Still hear thy motley orators dispense

The flowers of rhetoric, though not of sense,
While Canning's colleagues hate him for his wit,
And old dame Portland fills the place of Pitt.

Yet once again adieu! ere this the sail
That wafts me hence is shivering in the gale;
And Afric's coast, and Calpe'st adverse height,
And Stamboul'st minarets must greet my sight:
Thence shall I stray through beauty's? native clime,
Where Kaff is clad in rocks, and crown'd with snows
sublime.

But should I back return, no letter'd rage

Shall drag my common-place book on the stage;
Let vain Valentia¶ rival luckless Carr,

And equal him whose work he sought to mar:
Let Aberdeen and Elgin** still pursue

The shade of fame through regions of virtù;
Waste useless thousands on their Phidian freaks,
Mis-shapen monuments, and maim'd antiques;
And make their grand saloons a general mart
For all the mutilated blocks of art

* A friend of mine being asked, why his Grace of P. was likened to an old woman? replied " he supposed it was because he was past bearing."

Calpe is the ancient name for Gibraltar.

+ Stamboul is the Turkish word for Constantinople. Georgia, remarkable for the beauty of its inhabi

tants.

Mount Caucasus.

Lord Valentia (whose tremendous travels are forthcoming, with due decorations, graphical, topographical, and typographical) deposed, on Sir John Carr's unlucky suit, that Dubois's satire prevented his purchase of the Stranger in Ireland."-Oh, fie, my lord! has your lordship no more feeling for a fellowtourist? but "two of a trade," they say, &c.

** Lord Elgin would fain persuade us that all the figures with and without noses, in his stone-shop, are the work of Phidias; "Credat Judæus !"

Of Dardan tours let Dilettanti tell,
I leave topography to classic Gell;*
And, quite content, no more shall interpose,
To stun mankind with poesy or prose.

Thus far I've held my undisturb'd career,
Prepar'd for rancour, steel'd 'gainst selfish fear;
This thing of rhyme I ne'er disdained to own—
Though not obtrusive, yet not quite unknown;
My voice was heard again, though not so loud,
My page, though nameless, never disavow'd;
And now at once I tear the veil away;-
Cheer on the pack! the quarry stands at bay,
Unscar'd by all the din of Melbourne house,
By Lambe's resentment, or by Holland's spouse,
By Jeffrey's harmless pistol, Hallam's rage,
Edina's brawny sons and brimstone page.
Our men in buckram shall have blows enough,
And feel they too are "penetrable stuff:"
And though I hope not hence unscath❜d to go,
Who conquers me shall find a stubborn foe.

The time hath been, when no harsh sound would fall
From lips that now may seem imbued with gall:
Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise

The meanest thing that crawl'd beneath my eyes:
But now so callous grown, so chang'd since youth,
I've learn'd to think, and sternly speak the truth;
Learn'd to deride the critic's starch decree,
And break him on the wheel he meant for me;
To spurn the rod a scribbler bids me kiss,
Nor care if courts and crowds applaud or hiss:
Nay, more, though all my rival rhymesters frown,
I too can hunt a poetaster down:

And, arm'd in proof, the gauntlet cast at once
To Scotch marauder, and to southern dunce.

* Mr. Gell's Topography of Troy and Ithaca cannot fail to ensure the approbation of every man possessed of classical taste, as well for the information Mr. G. conveys to the mind of the reader, as for the ability and research the respective works display.

Thus much I've dared to do; how far my lay
Hath wrong'd these righteous times, let others say:
This, let the world, which knows not how to spare,
Yet rarely blames unjustly, now declare.

POSTSCRIPT

I HAVE been informed, since the present edition went to the press, that my trusty and well-beloved cousins, the Edinburgh Reviewers, are preparing a most vehe.. ment critique on my poor, gentle, unresisting Muse, whom they have already so be-deviled with their ungodly ribaldry:

Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ!"

I suppose I must say of Jeffrey as Sir Anthony Aguecheek saith, "an I had known he was so cunning of fence, I had seen him damned ere I had fought him." What a pity it is that I shall be beyond the Bosphorus before the next number has passed the Tweed! Bu I yet hope to light my pipe with it in Persia.

My northern friends have accused me, with justice, of personality towards their great literary anthropophagus, Jeffrey; but what else was to be done with him and his dirty pack, who feed by " lying and slandering," and slake their thirst by "evil speaking?" I have adduced facts already well-known, and of Jeffrey's mind I have stated my free opinion, nor has he thence sustained any injury-what scavenger was ever soiled by being pelted with mud? It may be said that I quit England because I have censured these persons of honour and wit about town," but I am coming back again, and their vengeance will keep hot till my return. Those who know me can testify that my motives for leaving England are very different from fears, literary or personal: those who do not, may

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one day be convinced. Since the publication of this thing, my name has not been concealed; I have been mostly in London, ready to answer for my transgressions, and in daily expectation of sundry cartels; but, alas!" the age of chivalry is over," or, in the vul gar tongue, there is no spirit now-a-days.

There is a youth ycleped Hewson Clarke, (subaudi, Esquire,) a sizer of Emanuel College, and, I believe, a denizen of Berwick-upon-Tweed, whom I have introduced in these pages to much better company than he has been accustomed to meet. He is, notwithstanding, a very sad dog, and for no reason that I can discover, except a personal quarrel with a bear, kept by me at Cambridge to sit for a fellowship, and whom the jealousy of his Trinity cotemporaries prevented from success, has been abusing me, and what is worse, the defenceless innocent above-mentioned, in "The Satirist," for one year and some months. I am utterly unconscious of having given him any provocation; indeed, I am guiltless of having heard his name till coupled with "The Satirist." He has therefore no reason to complain, and I dare say that, like Sir Fretful Plagiary, he is rather pleased than otherwise. I

have now mentioned all who have done me the honour to notice me and mine, that is, my bear and my book, except the editor of "The Satirist," who, it seems, is a gentleman-God wot! I wish he could impart a little of his gentility to his subordinate scribblers. I hear that Mr. Jerningham is about to take up the cudgels for his Mæcenas, Lord Carlisle: I hope not: he was one of the few, who, in the very short intercourse I had with him, treated me with kindness when a boy, and whatever he may say or do," pour on, I will endure." I have nothing further to add, save a general notice of thanksgiving to readers, purchasers, and publishers, and, in the words of Scott, I wish

To all and each a fair good night,
And rosy dreams and slumbers light.