pose advantage to passers by from ings in safety, without these pitiful that attitude especially with black imitations.) Vox facunda Solonis coats-Lamp-lighters-alarm occa- In one respect, and with this I consioned by their thuribulum-benevo- clude, London has as yet unrivalled lent provision for cats and dogs-bar- advantages. To persons who are curows containing ditto on the pavement rious to study the fates of heroes to -provocative of appetite Jews ready the last, remembering that to strip you to the skin, or clothe you at any price or cram your pockets with open pen-knives and oranges (bad neighbours) on your own terms. White horse cellar, enlevement of young women (struggling in vain, to go to Fulham,) to Hammersmith or Brentford. I hope I have now said enough, to put you in decent humour with the narrow, unparallel, misleading, greasy streets of Paris, with all the accessories of cabriolets, puddles, and pontoons, by day, and the parade of sentinels and gend'armes by night, the "mille pericula sævæ urbis," against which no carte de sureté will protect you. (By the way, old Gonsalvi set up that sort of thing at Rome last winter, together with a squad of saucy douaniers. Poor man! he might have been too happy to wear his red stock Respicere ad long jussit spatia ultima vitæ. To such a philosophically-constitu→ ted mind, Εκείνην την τελευ]αιαν ιδειν Ημεράν επισκοπουλία, a lodging in the Old Bailey offers decided advantages. He may there see the elements of tragedy, working di tos at Qoßov about every six weeks. There are several good houses just opposite to that well-known rendezvous of the luckless orator; that Anabathron from which none descends; that Pnyz (truly such) where he makes probably his first speech, and very certainly his last-here literally Mors ultima linea rerum. Modern English Ballads, Envited by Morgan ODoherty, LL.D. No. I. C. B. [**** The Ensign was evidently much affected on the defeat of his countryman. It was remarked, that for some days after the event, he went to bed bare-footed, and rose fasting. But on the occasion of Spring's triumphant entry, he was peculiarly dejected, and refused to look at it, which called forth the following ballad. It will be often imitated by modern poets, both in Spain and Germany. Pon te a tancard de brounstout, dexa la suipa de strongsuig It bears a great resemblance to the bridal of Andalla, p. 129, in Lockart's Spanish Ballads; and the succeeding one on poor Thurtell may, more remotely, remind the sentimental reader of his "Lament for Celin," originally published in this Magazine.] RISE up, rise SPRING'S RETURN. up, my Morgan, lay the foaming tankard down, Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. From gay shin-bone and cleaver hard the marrowy notes are flowing, And the Jew's-harp's twang sings out slap-bang, 'twixt the cow-horn's lordly blowing; And greasy caps from butchers' heads are tossing everywhere, And the bunch of fives of England's knight wags proudly in the air. Arise, arise, my Morgan, I see Tom Winter's mug, He bends him to the Fancy coves with a nod so smart and smug; What aileth thee, my Morgan? what makes thine eyes look down? The Irish Ensign rose not up, nor laid his tankard down, Why rise ye not, my Morgan, nor lay your tankard down? Hear, hear the cheering, how it swells, and how the people cry, He stops at Cribb's, the ex-champion's shop ;-why sit you still, oh! why? "At Cribb's good shop let Tom Spring stop, in him shall I discover The black-eyed youth that beat the lad who cross'd the water over? I will not rise with weary eyes, nor lay my tankard down, To gaze on Langan's conqueror, with all the gazing town.' * Mr Lockhart's Spanish ballad, "The Bridal of Andalla," of which Mr ODoherty has indited an imitation, runs thus. The Lament of Celin we have not room for. A prose article on Thurtell next month. “Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down ; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing, And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly blowing, And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere. And the tall tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air; Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down, Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. "Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Andalla's face, He bends him to the people with a calm and princely grace, THE LAMENT FOR THURTELL. A loud Lament is heard in town-a voice of sad complaining- The doves and rooks who meet at Brooks', sob loudly, fast, and faster, sir; Lord Byron, gentleman is he, who writes for good Don Juan, As to crow o'er cut-throat Whitbread Sam, or cut-throat Sam Romilly. He was a Whig-a true, true Whig-all property he hated In the Lower House, behind him Brougham would amble on the crupper, (My rhymes are out) 'gainst Ministers! Alas! for Whig Jack Thurtell! "What aileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thine eyes look down? The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down, "Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down? Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing town? Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry. He stops at Zara's palace-gate-why sit ye still-oh why ?" "At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate; in him shall I discover The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was my lover? REGINALD DALTON. THIS book was originally announced to the public, if we mistake not, under the title of " The Youth of Reginald Dalton;" and we wish that title had been preserved, for it properly expresses the real aim and object of the work. The author, whoever he may be, is a man of a singularly powerful and original mind, widely versed in literature and book-knowledge, and keenly observant of human nature, as displayed on the stage of the world. There is a force and vigour in his style of thinking and writing, not excelled by any man of this age; and often, too, an elegance, a gracefulness, and a beauty, that come charmingly in among his more force ful delineations, and shew that he could, if he would, be equally effect ive in the touching and pathetic. He pours out all his thoughts, feelings, observations, remarks, fancies, whims, caprices, follies, sarcasms, and jocularities, with the same easy, we had almost said careless, spirit of lavish profusion. He seldom remains long on one key, but he strikes it strongly, till the corresponding chord in the heart vibrates to its centre. He rarely seems anxious to work up any effect, but seizes the main interest of the feeling or incident which he is dealing with; and having brought it out boldly, he proceeds forthwith on his career, and hurries forwards with a free, and sometimes impatient consciousness of strength, among new scenes, new emotions, and new characters. Accordingly, he is never wearisome nor languid; never exhausts a passion either in himself, the agents in his history, or his readers, but, by a constant succession of various feelings spring ing out of each other, keeps the scene busy, and the imagination on the alert, infusing life, spirit, bustle, and vivacity throughout the work during its whole progress, and almost always becoming, when he ceases to be impressive and impassioned, excessively amusing and entertaining, and when he leaves the deeper feelings of our nature, almost always glancing over the surface of life with a truly engaging spirit of youthful elasticity, and a beaming freshness of youthful enjoy ment that inspires cheerful sympathy, and makes one in love with the every day world. It is evident that the volumes are written by one who, in the strength and prime of manhood, has not yet lost the animation and lightheartedness of youth. There is nothing young in the opinions, the reflections, the views of human life, when the writer addresses himself se riously and solemnly to the stronger and permanent principles of action in our nature, but there is much that is delightfully juvenile-puerile, if you will-in the by-play, the under-plot, the inferior incidents, and the depict ing of the various auxiliary characters, and the gravest and most formal personage that ever wore gown or wig, at bar, in pulpit, or in bench, must surely relax the sternness of his physiognomy at many of the ludicrous details of occurrences in stage-coaches, college-rows, gaudeamuses, and snug parties of well-educated wine-bibbers, and erudite devourers of the fat of the land, that permeate the book almost from beginning to end, and alternate most effectively with matters of very serious import, namely, with the sorrows of fatherly affection, the desolation of blasted hope, the agonies of repentant dissipation and prodigality, the cleaving curse of folly, the agonies and transports of baffled or requited love, and all the host of undistinguishable passions that often storm the soul of youth, and crowd into a few years as much delight and as much despair as is afterwards enjoyed or suffered between twenty and the tomb. Now, it is pretty obvious, that in a book written on such principles, and by such an author, various faults of considerable magnitude, and of no unfrequent recurrence, will be found. For, in the first place, it is not always possible to escape in good time from the extreme levity, and the joyful absurdities of reckless boyhood or youth; and in indulging, con amore, in such strains of description, a writer, with a keen sense of the frolicsome, the ludicrous, and the piquant, must be in perpetual danger of offending, either by the untimely introduction of such mirthful topics, or by their undue prolongation, or by a certain spice" of them remaining behind, even after a serious, solemn, or affecting appeal has been made to the better and higher Reginald Dalton. By the Author of Valerius and Adam Blair. 3 vols. W. Blackwood, Edinburgh, and T. Cadell, London. 1824. feelings. This, we think, frequently happens throughout these volumes. The current of deeper emotion is too often checked or diverted; and although the book may not, on that account, be a less true picture of human life, nevertheless we expect human life, in all its varieties, to be something different, in a work of imagination, from what it is in reality. This author occasionally destroys his most complete and powerful illusions, as if he did so, either on purpose to startle and perplex, or because he himself really felt less at the time, than the readers, over whom his genius prevailed, and were more indifferent than they ever could be to the beings of his own creation. But farther-the humour-the wit -the fun and frolic-the grotesque and the ludicrous-are sometimes not only out of place, but not very good in themselves, or if very good, yet not of a kind precisely which one is in the habit of meeting with in handsomely printed works in three thick volumes. Ever and anon our author waxeth facetious on other authors alive and merry like himself, deals out little biting and pinching quips modest, right and left, apparently without malice or meditation, but in mere gaieté du cœur. When he is in such moods, whatever comes uppermost, out it goes, so that more than once we thought we were reading this Magazine, and that Reginald Dalton was no other than Christopher North, in the gown of an under-graduate. Per haps the names of about twenty living persons of eminence occur in a work which is one of mere fiction, and it is impossible to tell how strange is the effect of these flesh-and-blood gentle men dining or drinking, or sitting on coach-boxes, or being introduced to Reginald Dalton and his fellow-phantoms. Instead of throwing an air of reality, and truth, and good faith over the narrative, it breaks the spell most teazingly, and more than once we have laid down our volume with a " says a frown to a smile," rather angry at being bammed and trotted by this capricious, wayward, and incurable quizzer. To be done, for the present, with our enumeration of faults, we must take the liberty of hinting to this author, that, in the midst of his powerful, eloquent, and idiomatic English, he, too often, lets slip words, phrases, epithets, and modes of expression, that border upon the coarse and vulgargrate upon the ear at least, if not upon the mind, and occasionally impair, in some measure, the beauty of his most overwhelming or exquisite descriptions. Perhaps something of this is unavoidable in a style so natural, bold, and flowing; but the tendency to it may at least be controlled; and if we are offended by such maculæ in his next work, we shall present him with a list of those in the present, some of which he will be surprised at and correct, while probably he will suffer others to remain, that they may furnish matter for philological criticism to the "influential" writers in the New Monthly, and other periodical lights of our southern hemisphere. The purpose of this original and powerful writer, is to paint a bold portrait of the youth of a well-born, well-educated Englishman. He is not to place him in any very conspicuous or commanding situation, to bring over, and around him, the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war, to envelope him in the light of genius, or to endow him with the power and privilege of exalted rank, but to shew him, as a youth of good birth, fair prospects, excellent talents, strong feelings, and then to let him take his choice for good or for evil among the causes for ever at work to shape out our destiny. Perhaps there rarely ever existed one individual, of any strong powers of thinking and feeling, the history of whose youth would not, in many respects, be extremely interesting. Independent of the workings of heart and spirit, and the formation and fluctuation of character, it would probably exhibit not a few impressive and interesting, perhaps striking and remarkable incidents, either in itself, or intimately connected with it, or with the fates and fortunes of other families. Accordingly, Reginald Dalton is represented as the son of a country rector, and we are first made acquainted with him, while yet living under the loving tuition of his father, a widower, whose heart was wholly bound up in Reginald, his only son. During half of the first volume, we become so far acquainted with this retired ecclesiastic, and his concerns, as to feel no ordinary interest both in him and Reginald. We learn that an ample and |