of the cause of that calamitous and awful affliction under which he suffered, the parasites of his memory are under a much greater mistake, when instead of turning their knowledge on that point to its great and proper account (which has never yet been hinted even in this great nation of reasoning freemen!) they fancy they can put down all thoughts upon such subjects, and all the unfortunate consequences of such facts, by raising a hypocritical cry against a few hasty expressions, uttered in that very spirit of sympathy with the community at large, which they count as nothing.

We cannot close this Advertisement without adding our cordial voice (truly humble on the present occasion) to the universal harmony prevailing in England on the subject of the glorious rights and equally glorious behaviour of Spain. We must also say, how much surprise and relief have been afforded to us by the political plain-speaking (granting even it ends in little more) of the accomplished person who has succeeded that vizor of a statesman, Lord Castlereagh.

THE

LIBERA L.

No. III.

THE BLUES,

A LITERARY ECLOGUE.

"Nimium nè crede colori."-VIRGIL.

O trust not, ye beautiful creatures, to hue,
Though your hair were as red as your stockings are blue.

ECLOGUE FIRST.

LONDON.-Before the Door of a Lecture Room.
Enter TRACY, meeting INKEL.

But the benches are crammed, like a garden in flower,

With the pride of our Belles, who have made it the fashion; So instead of "beaux arts," we may say "la belle passion "

For learning, which lately has taken the lead in
The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.

TRACY.

I know it too well, and have worn out my patience
With studying to study your new publications.

There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords and Co.
With their damnable-

Whom you speak to?

INKEL.

Hold, my good friend, do you know

TRACY.

Right well, boy, and so does "the Row:"

You're an author-a poet

INKEL.

And think you that I

Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry

The Muses?

TRACY.

Excuse me; I meant no offence

To the Nine; though the number who make some pretence To their favours is such-but the subject to drop,

I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop

(Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I
Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy
On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces,
As one finds every author in one of those places)
Where I just had been skimming a charming critique,
So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek!

Where your friend-you know who-has just got such a threshing,

That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely "refreshing."

What a beautiful word!

INKEL.

Very true; 'tis so soft

And so cooling-they use it a little too oft;
And the papers have got it at last-but no matter.
So they've cut up our friend then?

TRACY.

Not left him a tatter

Not a rag of his present or past reputation,

Which they call a disgrace to the age and the nation.

INKEL.

I'm sorry to hear this; for friendship, you know———
Our poor friend!—but I thought it would terminate so.
Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.
You don't happen to have the Review in your pocket?

TRACY.

No; I left a round dozen of authors and others

(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)
All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps,
And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.

INKEL.

Let us join them.

TRACY.

What, won't you return to the lecture?

INKEL.

Why, the place is so crammed, there's not room for a spectre. Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd

Quite enough; and to tell you the truth, my retreat
Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.

TRACY.

I have had no great loss then?

INKEL.

Loss!-such a palaver!

I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver

Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours

To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,

Pumped up with such effort, disgorged with such labour,
That come do not make me speak ill of one's neighbour.

I make you !

TRACY.

INKEL.

Yes, you! I said nothing until You compelled me, by speaking the truth

TRACY.

Is that your deduction?

INKEL.

To speak ill?

When speaking of Scamp ill,

I certainly follow, not set an example.

The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.

TRACY.

And the crowd of to-day shows that one fool makes many.
But we two will be wise.

I would, but

INKEL.

Pray, then, let us retire.

TRACY.

INKEL.

There must be attraction much higher

Than Scamp, or the Jews'-harp he nicknames his lyre,
To call you to this hot-bed.

!