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Omicron. Fervid sublimity, and a dithyrambic abandonment to the impetus of his genius, characterize this aspirant to your patronage. A great evil has, however, already resulted from your procrastination. Had the poem had an early insertion, the revival, or rather re-modelling of the Eng lish hexameter, would have been assigned to him, rather than to the Lau reate or the author of the Hymn. But Omicron's case is too like that of Cole ridge, whose Cristabel came out fifteen years too late for his reputation, since

the bays of ballad-romance had then taken root at Sir Walter Scott's door, and would not budge an inch in favour of him, who avers that he first introduced them to the soil. Omicron's poem, we fear, can no longer expect the factitious support of being a novelty in an original style; but to prove to you that the invention was antici pated by him, allow us to quote the opening; for in a case of this kind, every added day renders it more difficult to do him justice.

Ready am I to ascend hence the loftiest heaven of invention:
Ready, aye ready; but what are the means I employ to arrive there?
For my shoe-scraper I use the notable Teneriffe Pico ;-

Clouds are steps which I mount to get up to the door I am seeking,
And the blue firmament's breadth is this very door to be entered. (10.)
First, though I rap to give notice, a thunderbolt being my knocker,
Lest on Apollo I pop, undressed in his slippers and night-gown ;-
Double's the rap which results from the discipline brisk of my fingers,
Which you, and others who grovel, imagine the rattling of thunder," &c.

"Letters between Herbert Ludlow and Camilla Conway," by Laura. The simple dictates of unsophistieated sentiment. (11.)

"Impenetrability; or the Effects of Misapprehended Reciprocity;" signed Crux.-Not entirely new in its leading plan; for, as The Pleasures of Hope" sprang from "The Pleasures of Memory" so was the hint for this subtly didactic poem given by one styled "Individuality, or the Causes of Re

ciprocal Misapprehension, by Martha Ann Sellon." Nevertheless we think it would fall in with the taste of your more studious poetico-metaphysical readers,

These pieces are what we somewhat confidently submit to your better judgment, not mentioning such as we have suppressed, and seldom having noticed more than a single one of our respective productions, now awaiting your fiat to be printed. (12.)

his stool; and if some part (not his head) came with a very smart impact against the ground, it would be a due recompence for making us read such wooden, brainless stuff. (10.) Omicron beats M. Garnerin, who entrusted himself to a parachute, which swung him backwards and forwards till his brains were addled, and then banged him against the stones, to see what sort of osteology he was possessed of. We received the hymn a week, two days, and some hours before little o's six-footed lines crept in. We must be just. (11.) We hasten to persuade Mr H. L. with all the earnestness for his good which we can show, to apply instanter for the situation advertised last week of Junior Usher to the lowest form at Mr M.'s academy, Leith; apprehending from the old motto "docendo disco," that it comes within the scope of the possibles, that he may, by teaching scholars not yet imbued with any great quantity of erudition, (being mostly quinquennarians, or at most sexennarians,) himself learn to spell; and as to Miss Camilla, she talks of cookery being a vulgar science, she hallucinates,-the wisest course she can pursue is to put herself for a month or two under the flowery-fisted dominion of the house-keeper of her friend Mrs Thirdcourse, in the capacity of kitchen-maid, (if indeed so much capacity be hers;) but, N. B. she must, meanwhile, be called Molly, Betty, Sally, or the like, as a nom-de-guerre or rather de-cuisine, for Camilla at the frying-pan, or working away with the flour-dredger, hath some incongruity to the ear. Should she listen to this advice, she will return to a sounder way of judging on the subject. Shall Mrs Rundel have written in vain ? Smoke-jacks and cradle spits, forbid !

(12.) In fine, we give no encouragement to our Contributors to question our tact and judgment. Write away merry men all; but Fame hath deputed us sole umpire,—indisputable, and till now undisputed.

C. N.

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To whom Communications (post paid) may be addressed.





No. LIII, & No. LIV.


CONTENTS or No. LIII.-(Being the last No. of Vol. IX.)

I. Hora Germanicæ. No. XII. The Pilgrimage, a Drama, by the Baron la Motte Fouqué.-II. Ode on the Olden Time.-III. Morsels of Melody.IV. Lamb's Translation of Catullus.-V. The Florida Pirate.-VÌ. On the Probable Influence of Moral and Religious Instruction on the Character and Situation of Seamen. No. II.-VII. Inch Keith Beacon.-VIII. The Invocation.-IX. The Landscape.-X. The Wanderer of Connaught.-XI. Elegy on a Country maiden.-XII. The Sons of Mooslim.-XIII. Sir Thomas Browne's Letter to a Friend.-XIV. The Plague of Darkness, a Dramatic Scene from the Exodus.-XV. The Last Plague.-XVI. On Psalm-Singing in our Churches, with some Observations upon the Proposed "Additional Psalmody.-XVII. The Forgers.-XVIII. Works preparing for Publication.-XIX. Monthly List of New Publications.-XX. Monthly Register, &c.

CONTENTS OF No. LIV.-(Being the first No. of Vol. X.)

I. Epistle Preliminary.—II. The Steam-Boat. No. VI. (Voyage Third.) Tale 10. A Jeanie Deans in Love. Part Second. The Preparations. Part Third. the Coronation.-III. Account of a Coronation-Dinner at Edinburgh.—IV. The Voyages and Travels of Columbus Secundus. Chapters 7, 8, 9, and 10. -V. Familiar Epistles to Christopher North, from an Old Friend with a New Face. Letter I. On Hogg's Memoirs.-VI. The Modern British Drama. No. I. The Fatal Unction; a Coronation Tragedy. By Lælius ****, M. D.-VII. "Fifæana." No. I.-VIII. Characters of Living Authors, by Themselves. No. I.-IX. Essays on Cranioscopy, Craniology, Phrenology, &c. By Sir Toby Tickletoby, Bart. Chapters 1, 2, and 3.X. The Muses Welcome to the High and Mightie Prince James, &c.-XI. Remark on Bishop Corbet's Poems.-XII. Ode on the King's Landing in Ireland.-XIII. A Welcome to his Majesty George IV. on his Arrival in Ireland.-XIV. Excellent New Song, Composed and Sung by James Scott, Esq. M. D. 19th July.-XV. Extempore Effusion, Sung with great Effect by Morgan O'Doherty, Esq. 19th July.-XVI. Sylvanus Urban and Christopher North.-XVII. Continuation of Don Juan.-XVIII. An Expostulatory Round Robin from Fourteen Contributors.-XIX, The Finish.

By publishing this extra Number, the Eleventh Volume will commence at the regular period in January.

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The needy wretch had strongly begg'd
Some pittance to his share might fall;
With which, to manage as he may,
Nor drone his scrap of life away
Within the work-house wall.

This to the man in office seem'd
A favour inadmissible.

"Twas casting on the house a slur,
And on him too, the officer,
Who govern'd it so well.

The applicant of whom he spake,
In hale old age before them stood;
Time had not shorn his temples bare,
But on them his once chesnut hair
In snowy whiteness flow'd.

There was a sparkling in his eyes,
The after-gleam of past enjoyment;
And his complexion, fresh and clear,
Denoted, that in open air
Had lain his old employment.

Upright he stood, and unabashed,
And gave to view a manly frame,
Such as in former times had been
The champion of the village green,
And chief in every game.

Though age so gently press'd him, he
By accident was not uncross'd;
It was the rougher foe to him,
And robb'd him of a precious limb,
His left-side arm was lost.

Thus maim'd, yet he, you still would say,
From no inglorious stock was bred;
He bore an air of hardihood,

Of freedom breathed from the wild wood,
Where his prime life was led.

With open front he stood-a picture
And though his frock gave you to trace,
By the loose dangling sleeve, his loss,
It did not mar his port; he was
A model still of rustic grace.

This thread-bare frock, uncouthly patch'd,
Badge of the craft he erst had plied,
A forest livery had been ;

And then in colour 'twas as green
As leaves in summer-tide.

But now its joyous gloss was gone-
For suns, and winds, and dews, and showers,
Had robb'd it of it's honours bright,
And changed it to the rusty plight
Of autumn's soberer bowers.

Such was old Arthur Bromfield-such
His bearing in his low estate.
His free vocation stamp'd his mien,
For in New-Forest he had beer.

Groomkeeper till of late;

And wish'd it still, and had been able,

But for his hapless mutilation,

Which chanced when with the verd'rors he In venison season merrily

Pursued his occupation.


'Twas his to watch the antler'd herd, Which peering pass'd in mute alarm, But as he got into an oak,

A branch decay'd beneath him broke, And thence he lost his arm.

"Well, Arthur," said the Magistrate,
"What in thy favour can'st aver?
There must, forsooth, be weighty cause
To reckon thee, 'gainst parish laws,
An out-door pensioner ?"

"An' please your honour," quoth old Arthur,

"I know nought of their rules about it;
But this I will make bold to say,
I'd scorn to take the parish pay,
Could I earn bread without it.

"Born in the woods, up from a boy
I've been a roving forester,
And fairly earn'd, till latterly,
My food, and fire, and livery,
By keeping the King's deer.

"Three years are gone since this befel;"
And here he touch'd his empty sleeve.
"And though no longer fit to be
A forest-groom, yet zealously
By my own work I strove to live.

"The ranger gave a bounty, when
From service I was forced to go,
And with it I two years was fed;
Since which this hand has got me bread,
And that with hard ado.

"Using my wits in works, of which
A one-armed man is capable,
In shifts to make a livelihood,

I traversed heath, and moor, and wood,
For matters which would sell.

"Revisiting my childish haunts,
I roam'd for wild fruits up and down-
Cull'd under brakes the strawberries red,
And brambleberries overhead,
For market at the town.

"And when the riper autumn came,
Startling the squirrel from their drays,
I shook for nuts the hazel trees,
Or gather'd purple bullaces,
Where Roydon's brooklet strays.

"I cropp'd the whorts upon the moors,
The bashful heathcocks' favourite food;
And pluck'd the pleasant cluster'd fruit
From service-trees of old repute
Within the darksome wood.

"And when it nigh'd to Christmas-tide,
I cut the holly's glorious bough,
To deck our parish-church withal ;---
And some I carried to the hall,
With merry misletoe.

"Such were my shifts, poor helps they were
For eking out those means of mine :-
But now my wits are at an end,
And I shall thankfully depend
On what your worship may assign."

Spake the Overseer:-"His worship will
Give us an order to receive you
Into the House."-A spot of ire
Glow'd on the veteran's cheek like fire:
Said he, "My presence would but grieve

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Now, whether he, ere this, has swerved
From his so stiff determination,
I cannot say I never knew,—
But oft within my mental view
His image takes its station.-

For I was struck at witnessing
The poor man's pertinacious love
For the old dwellers in his haunts-
His dappled friends, the inhabitants
Of the otherwise unpeopled grove.

I loved the heart with which he spake,
Whene'er the Forest roused a thought;
And much desired that it were mine,
To bid him spend his life's decline
Within so dear a spot.

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