the applause he was to receive, that he determined to give every possible éclat to the farce, and assemble all Rome to witness the ridiculous exhibition. Baraballo, too, within sight of the very summit of his ambition, resolved that the ceremony should proceed with the utmost magnificence, and this inclination received every encouragement from the courtiers, who naturally concluded that the more pageantry surrounded him, the greater was their dupe.

It happened about this time that a very large elephant had been presented to Leo by the King of Portugal, and it was suggested and finally agreed, that the elephant should convey the Improvisatore to the Capitol. On the appointed day, the "Eternal City" was on the alert to catch a glimpse of the procession; every avenue to the Vatican was crowded to suffocation; elegantly dressed females, the rank and beauty of Rome, of course, decorated the windows, and the air resounded with vivas, and shouts in honour of Baraballo. He himself was betimes at the palace, from whence the cortège was to proceed, and was feasting upon the honour that awaited him, when a deputation was announced from Gaeta, where the

friends of the Abate enjoyed some consideration. The deputation was admitted to the presence of Baraballo, who received them in the costume which was worn by the triumphant generals of ancient Rome. He was clad in a garment of purple, embroidered with gold, and was surrounded by witlings, who were loading him with congratulatory mockeries.

Baraballo, elated by this new mark of attention, had begun in pompous verse to express his acknowledgements to his fellow-citizens of Gaeta, for the interest they took in his good fortune, when they interrupted him by earnest entreaties not to dishonour his family, and stamp ludicrous notoriety upon his birth-place, by exposing himself to the jests and ribaldry of Rome. This unexpected rebuff, instead of cooling the ardour of Baraballo, only roused him to exertion. He burst into a violent paroxysm rage, vented in impromptu verse the most violent imprecations upon the deputation, which he accused of mean and sordid jealousy at the distinction he had reached, and leaving them abruptly and in anger, mounted his elephant amid the suppressed laughter of the Court and acclamations of the populace.

of

He had not, however, proceeded very far, before some misgivings overtook him of the honorary character of the proceedings: the jibes of the people became, at length, too unequivo cal, to be mistaken-He saw through the double-entendre or the insincerity of every fresh compliment he received, and by the time he had arrived at the Ponte S. Angelo, he had become excessively impatient, and had given L's attendants several indications that their fulsome flattery was offensive. Shame and mortification still chained him to his seat; and had not an impediment occurred where it was not expected, this extravagant pantomime must have been consummated. Luckily, however, for the Abate, further than the Ponte S. Angelo the elephant would not move. It seemed to have conspired with the Nine Sisters to prevent the profanation of an honour, until then only enjoyed by their darling votaries, and nothing could induce it to proceed. It was soon understood that another conveyance would be supplied to complete the burlesque; but in the midst of the hurry Baraballo had disappeared, and having doffed his triumphant robes, sneaked to his lodging.

POPE'S "RAPE OF THE LOCK."

THE "Rape of the Lock," the most airy, the most ingenious, the most delightful, of all Pope's compositions," (says Dr. Johnson,) was occasioned by a frolic of gallantry rather too familiar, in which, when they were out in company with a party, Lord Petre cut off a lock of the Honorable Mrs. Arabella Fermor's hair. This act of gallantry was rather intended as a compliment, but was so much resented, that the commerce of the two families, both very friendly, was interrupted. Mr. Caryl solicited Pope to effect a reconciliation by a ludicrous poem, which might bring both parties to a better understanding. In compliance with the request of that gentleman, (though his name was only marked for a long time with the first and last letters, C—L,) a poem of two cantos was written [1711], as it is said, in a fortnight, and sent to the offended lady, who liked it well enough to shew it; and, with the usual process of literary transactions, the author, dreading a surreptitious edition, was forced to publish it. The event is said to have been such as was desired-the pacifica tion and diversion of all to whom it related.

RAPIN

was a poet and a provost-marshal, two characters not often united in the same person. He told the Monks who attended him in his last moments, that the only good action which he had to congratulate himself upon in his younger days was, his persecuting the contagion of Atheism in Paris. He said, "that about the year 1580, there came to Paris a foreigner of a subtle and factious spirit, who, having made himself acquainted with the celebrated wits of that city, (of whom Ronsard, the poet, was the chief,) began to publish his pernicious and abominable maxims against the Deity, which had already staggered the minds of some of them. I soon afterwards caused him to be hung and burnt by a decree of the Parliament of Paris. Ronsard, at last, came over to my opinion, and wrote his poem against the Atheists, which begins, O ciel, O terre, O Dieu, Père commun.' "Had it not been for us, France, perhaps, would have been a sink of Atheists to this day."

RONSARD.

THE poems of this learned man were much