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" There was many a friend to lose him, « Of war, religion, or of LAW,

When that gallant soldier died, Without consulting ColumBA." But the maiden of his bosom."

Hoog, 31. CAMPBELL, 100. Try it again, Campbell. We offer anybody a sovereign in gold “ Pageant !-Let the world REVERE US who will interpret the first two lines For our people's rights and laws, of that bit of Campbell.

And the breasts of civic HEROES.

[AL Words ending in “spect” are odd. dermeň, we presume.] ly treated by both.

CAMPBELL, 94, and again 87. « Thou shalt not need one word to check,

Now, Hogg. Nor hear augkat but with due respect.”

“ If thou'rt a Cotquean, by my soul,

HOGG, 121. I'll split thy pruriginious nowl. “ No, said be, yon phantom's aspect,

HOGG, 269. Trust me, would appal thee worse ;

A third time, Tom. Held in clearly measured prospect."

“ I gazed, and felt upon my LIPS CAMPBELL, 181.

Th' unfinished accents hang,

One moment's bliss, one burning KISS. Hogg's rhyme is quite national, for it

CAMPBELL, 89. is known that the Scotch in general This is meant for rhyme, as will be sink the t in such words, saying, re- seen by referring to the poem, (poem!) spec', &c. but Campbell beats him where every first and third line rhyme. even in this piece of nationality. Who We are afraid that Hogg cannot ever heard such a rhyme southwards match that, yet we shall sport one. , as this

“ 'Mong all the dark and stern COMPEERS “ It bore a crucifix,

Of Odin's rueful WORSHIPPERS. Fame said it once had graced

HOGG, 93. An ancient temple, which the Picts." We have now concluded, and may CAMPBELL, 138.

safely ask if we have not redeemed our They have some peculiar ideas as to promise, to prove that no nation in the the word “ abroad.”

world ever before produced two such “ Go back, ye wolves, to your dens, he poems as Hogg's and Campbell's in cried,

the same inonth? But it would be a And tell the nations abroad

pity to part them without giving a How the fiercest of your herd has died, sample of their songs. Hogg shall go That slaughter'd the flock of God." first. They shall be both on love.

CAMPBELL, 147. “ 0, come, gentle maiden, “ But darker paths are to be trod, [It must be pronounced “ midden,for For darker doings are abroad."

the rhyme.] Hogy, 268

Of lovely Dunedin, But we should be quoting the whole Array'd in thy beauty and gladdening books did we go on. Campbell rhymes "bouquetin” to “between,"and"route" Thine the control I list, to “out,” thereby shewing his know- Lovely mythologist ! ledge of French pronunciation. He Thine the monition that never beguiles." also favours us with “ pair” and Very good, indeed. Now, Mr prepare,"

page," Campbell. We request our readers to « break” and “ neck,” break” and sound the s's as strong as they can, wreck,

" " Devons” and “ ravens," and remember that this is a song to be “ human” and “ woman,” and five sung. hundred. others, in consequence of

“ Love's a boundless burning waste, which we hereby new christen him Where Bliss's stream we seldom taste, Thomas the Rhymer. Hogg gallops

And still more seldom flee. away in every page at such a rate that Suspence's thorns, Suspicion's stings, it is needless to hunt out particulars. Yet somehow love a something brings, Cull we, therefore, a flower or two

That's sweet, even though we sigh

Woe's ME!" from each, and desert. " Again to the battle, ACHAIANS,

To be sung to music, it must be the Our hearts bid the tyrants deFIANCE.”

music of a saw.

CAMPBELL, 84. “ Farewell, sweet bards, farewell, ye Match that, Hogg, if you can. Ay,

dulcet strains, ay, sir, says Hogg.

Anoaken staff each hoisting for his pains."

Farewell, once again, Quoth SIGNIFER VESTER. No. 2, Shire Lane, January 1st, 1825. Vol. XVII.


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Noctes Ambrosianae.



PHOC. ap. Ath.
[This is a distich by wise old Phocylides,
An ancient who wrote crabbed Greek in no silly days ;
An excellent rule of the hearty old cock 'tis
And a very fit motto to put to our Noctes. ]

C. N. ap. Ambr.

MR SECRETARY DR MULLION. Yes, sir, your last Noctes appear to have made what my friend Dr Jamieson calls a stramash.



Why, sir, our conversations get wind unaccountably, and it is little wonder that they do make a noise. What do you allude to particularly ? You know the song. I sung,

When church and crown are batter'd down

By Bentham and his band.



Of course.


Well, Bowring, in the Morning Chronicle, has answered it—thereby taking on himself the office my song gave him of Poet Laureate to the pack. You remember,

When Bowring's tongue sings Southey's song, and now he chants accordingly by anticipation.

Is Bowring's song very good ?


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MULLION (producing an ancient Morning Chronicle) chants.

When built on laws, the good old cause

. Triumphantly shall reign,
And in their choice the People's voice

Shall not be heard in vain";
When England's name and England's fame

Stand pure, and great, and free,
Corruption chain'd, and Truth maintain’d,

Then, hey, boys, down go we !

When Glory tears the wreath he wears

From Wellington's proud brow,
And Liberty shall sit on high,

That walks in darkness now;
When Justice wakes, and from her shakes

Old ELDON, scornfully,
And stands erect in self respect,

Then, hey, boys, down go we!


When gibe and jest, by CANNING drest,

Delude not as before,
And pertness, made a thriving trade

By CROKER, thrives no more;
When slippery Peel the wounds shall heal

Of priestly Bigotry,
And Peace shall smile on Ireland's Isle,

Then, hey, boys, down go we!
When laws on game shall cease to shame

The subject and the state ;
And men can trust, as wise and just,

An unpaid Magistrate;
When Judges pure, shall seek t' insure

A bright publicity;
And Best can keep his rage asleep

Then, hey, boys, down go we !"
When law's disputes, and Chancery suits,

Shall be no more the tools
For knaves in black, to harm and hack

The many-colour's fools ;
When fraud and wrong, in weak and strong,

And rich and poor, shall be
With equal hand pursued and bann'd-

Then, hey, boys, down go we!
When rods and whips, from BENTHAM's lips,

The pand'ring knaves shall chase,
Who long have sold, for pride and gold,

Their country and their race ;
When France and Spain sball rise again,

And lovely Italy,
sufferings rude, refresh’d, renewid-

Then, hey, boys, down go we!
When man at length shall feel his strength,

And in his strength control
The despot few, who then shall rue

The hatred of the whole ;
When towers serene, in living green,

Fair Freedom's sacred tree;
And 'neath it, blest, the nations rest-
Then, hey, boys, dowii go we !

[Here Mr North fell asleep. ]
When Mr North in Frith of Forth,

Shall fathom five be duck'd;
When Tickler's neck a rope shall deck,

From lofty gallows chuck'd;
When messan dog treats Jamie Hogg

In fashion rather free;
When Jeffrey's sheers crop Blackwood's ears,

Then, hey, boys, down go we!

(NORTH) awaking as usual at the end of the song. Bravo! bravo ! a very good song indeed. I always said Tom Campbell was a clever fellow.



Tom Campbell !-Bowring, sir, you mean.


Ay, Bowring-yes, Bowring, I meant. Shew me the song ; let me peruse it. [Reads ] " Then, hey, boys, down go we.” Bowring may understand


Russian, but he is not quite certain as to his English. Hey, boys! is huzza, boys ! rather an out-of-the-way cry for a sinking party.

When pertness, made a thriving trade

By Croker, thrives no more
How horribly afraid all these hounds of low degree are of Croker !

Doubtless. The allusion to “ priestly bigotry,” is not even brought into juxtaposition with Ireland, and the course recommended in that island. But it is not a bad song, for all that. The rhymes, however, are poorish-The last verse strikes me to be far the best-that I mean about ourselves. Don't you think, sir, it would be an improvement

if it ran thus in the last quatrain ? When Brougham shall flog Ettrickian Hogg,

(That whip might borrow'd be, which Gourlay laid on shoulder blade,)

Then, hey, boys, down go we. I do not like parenthesis in songs—but the idea is good. On the whole, I am pleased with the song. Mullion, write to-morrow to Bowring,-he lives in Jeffrey's Square, St Mary's Axe,—to say that I shall employ him in the song department, at a guinea per song, --with liberty afterwards to publish it with music at Power's or elsewhere besides permission occasionally to gather them into a volume. Even if I reject, as I sometimes must, I shall pay him nevertheless, for I like to patronize genius.

MULLION, (making memorandum.) It shall be done, sir. You have seen the Dumfries Journal's answer to the Farewell to Scotland, sung by the Ensign on the same occasion ?



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No keep it till Sir Morgan comes I expect him every moment.



Mr Tickler. [Exit AMBROSE as TICKLER enters.]
How do you do, North :-Mullion, your hand; it is a long time since I saw



either of you.


We have just ordered supper.



I am as dry as a lime-burner's shoe. [Rings-enter Waiter--receives orders -exit-and re-enters with a quart of porter, which TIMOTHY gulps at a draught.] I have just parted with Hogg. He'll be here in a moment.

Enter Hogg.
Is’t me ye're talkin' o', Mr Tickler? How's a' wi' ye?

MULLION, (aside.)
I say, Mr North, did you ever see the Shepherd's eyes reel so ?
Oh, stuff-Well, I shall not wait another minute for this long-legged Irish-

[Rings. Enter MR AMBROSE.




Supper, gentlemen, is ready in the next room.

[Exeunt omnes.


Supper Room.' Round Table.
Enter North, TICKLER, MULLION, and Hogg. AMBROSE preceding.

Waiters following:
To them, ODOHERTY.

ODOHERTY. Just in time, I see. I hope I have not kept you waiting. I was just dining with Patrick Robertson, and had to run for it.


Do not delay us longer by your apologies. Gentlemen, be seated.

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MULLION, (after contemplating the table with profound admiration.) This is a supper. Ambrose, a dram. What would Barry Cornwall say to such a sight?



Nothing. He'd faint on the spot.

A round table, sir, may seem matter of form, as my friend Samuel Rogers says, but is matter of substance. The round table, which one may say literally gave peace to Europe, may still be seen at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Hout-that's the auld clishmaclaver o'Johnny Groats revived. Vera respectable steaks them, Mr Ambrose.



I had rather see a table which would give oysters to the present company.


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Excellent indeed. I own, however, I am national enough to prefer the Irish. The Carlingford oysters

TICKLER to North, (aside.) A maxim, hem!


-Are small, but of a peculiarly fine flavour. The Bland oyster of Kerry, so called after a family of that name, not from any blandness of their taste, are good. Those of Cork barbour are gigantic-as big as your common dessert plates, and very agreeable.


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