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[Dec. by-some greedy gossip of threescore when we say, that we recollect more —who would introduce it to the than one sentence of Macvey Napier's shrivelled sisterhood with the second Essay on Lord Bacon? We offer to cup of tea, and reads aloud, in a' bet fifty pounds that we commit to sour voice, choice passages, with a memory, in three days, the leading direful caterwauling accompaniment. article in Colburn's last Magazine, " Where was the vile vretch on without omitting a single word of bad Thursday night?" “ What can the grammar! We will undertake three fulsome fellow mean by À past 9. pages of Johnny Keates' Endymion Di: Lu: call on M. S. 3 pair of stairs within the week—and that Julius -left hand-knocker-Mrs L.-brass Cæsar Scaliger may for ever hide his plate-Little's Po: Rimini - Play Tick: head, we offer to bet a series of Blackoysters--Mull: P ?”
Suppose that wood against a series of the Edinour diary should fall into the hands burgh Review (immense odds), that of some popular preacher. What com- we commit to memory, in a single affort could there be in sitting in church ternoon, that part of Mr Brougham's to hear Sunday after Sunday the most very statesman-like speech on the sharppointed allusions made to the most se- ening of the swords of the Manchester cret transactions of our lives? What yeomanry! One human being alone if the Rev. Mr Terrot,* for example, has ever triumphed over the power of should all at once find himself in pos- our memory, and that is Sir Robert session of the whole annual income of Wilson. A speech of his is beyond the brain of the Editor of this Maga- retention. At the very moment that zine ? A twenty thousand pound prize we think we bave him, away go his in the lottery would be nothing to such words like shelving sand on every a treasure. He would huddle it into side, and all is lost. We know not his bosom-he would sleep with it what this elusive quality of his elobelow his pillow—he would rise at quence can be, but we grant that to midnight and gloat over it by rush- him it is invaluable. One speech may light--scraps of it would slip into his serve him all his life ;-a hundred sermons it would colour the whole times delivered, still seems it to be a style of his epistolary correspondence maiden speech. Alas! it is all the -he would throw aside for ever his while an old battered oration out of “ Common Sense" — he would set all keeping. Constable's Magazines on fire.
We therefore-that is Editor and In short, we should feel as useless Contributors—have no need of meand unhappy with such a diary in our moranda ; but all people are not Edipocket, as a country gentleman in the tors and Contributors-(though at the pit of Drury Lane with bills to a vast same time we believe in this literary amount. Our uneasiness would in- age that the greater part of mankind crease from day to day. We could are in that predicament)—and for such endure the month of January, -in as are not, Mr Leigh Hant's Literary February our trepidation would be Pocket-Book is a very clever and cunvisible to our friends in March our ning contrivance. A common almanlooks would be wild-- April would see ack is most shockingly vulgar, and us in sore distress-in May we would cannot be worn by a gentleman in the make a desperate effort to get rid of evening. But the Literary Pocketthe cause of our distemper—and in Book, though a sort of almanack, is June we would send our Literary quite dressy-looking with its scarlet Pocket-Book to slumber for ever in coat, and when you unbutton it, it oblivion, with seventeen pamphlets of exhibits a white waistcoat and clean James Grahame, and one old snoring linen. We wear one ourselves, merenumber of my grandmother's Review. ly for shew, and have detected our
The truth is, that we have such selves more than once, in our fine abgood memories we do not require me- sent way, tapping it, as if it were our moranda. We absolutely forget no- gold snuff-box. It is the intention of thing. Will the public believe us the proprietors to publish one annually,
This bold young gentleman has lately entered the lists against the whole of the literary and theological world. We hope he may have the luck to be carried off the field in a tolerably whole skin ; but the odds are at present rather against him.-- Verb. Sap.
That for 1819 contains upwards of a festivals in honour of the gods, as the prehundred ruled pages, for autobiography sent one, for instance, Anthesterion, or the and dinner-notices ; and about as many Flowery, from the quantity of flowers dismore of letter-press, the contents of played at the festival of Bacchus.
« The modern use of ancient terms on which are as follows.
occasions of this kind, produces some as Introduction.Calendar of nature. Diary, &c.-Chronological list of eminent Celtic nations. Thus, in our House of
musing inconsistencies, especially among the persons in letters, philosophy, and the arts, Commons, there shall be a call of the memfrom the most remote æras. --Living authors, native and foreign.—Living artists, thic deity Woden, which their Journal
bers for Wednesday, or the day of the Gonative and foreign.—Living musicians, native and foreign.-Musical performers and the Roman deity Mars; and this day of
translates into Dies Martis, or the day of teachers, with their addresses.-Inns of court.
Gothic and Roman divinity-ship is com-Universities.Foundation schools.-Li. terary, philosophical, and philanthropic in menced with the reading of Christian stitutions.-Medical lecturers.--Theatres. prayers.
January is the coldest month of the Performers at the principal theatres.-Ex. hibitions. - Private collections of pictures in by continuance. To those, however, who
year, the winter having now strengthened London.-Print and plaster-cast shops. Cultivate their health and imaginations, life Booksellers and publishers.--- Foreign book has always enjoyments
, and nature is full of sellers.-Circulating libraries and reading beauties. The frost sets our victorious firerooms.—New books.- Teachers of lan- sides sparkling ; and with our feet upon a guages.--Anecdotes.-Extracts, &c.-Ori. ginal poetry-Law and University terms -- good warm rug, we may either doubly en London bankers.--Hackney-coach fares.
joy the company of friends, or get into sumRates of watermen.Value of money.
mer landscapes in our books, or sit and hear
The excluded tempest idly rave along.
better than we, and whom we begin to
of nature, and kept up their Christmas fes, the prose and the poetry; The Ca- They got a little and enjoyed every thing, lendar of Nature,” which is evidently instead of getting every thing and enjoying by Mr Leigh Hunt, is like all his a little. In the day they made leisure for writings, extremely affected and Cock- healthy sport out of doors, and in the evenneyish-but often very lively and de- ing they were at their books and pastimes
within. scriptive. He takes hold of the months, makes them sit down, and paints their He is infinitely mistaken, who thinks there
“ Even to observe nature is to enjoy her. portraits; and good strong staring like- is nothing worth seeing in winter time out nesses they are. They are all rather of doors, because the sun is not warm, and “jaunty,” to use Mr Hunt's darling the streets are muddy. Let him get, hy phrase, and have too much of a con- dint of good exercise, out of the streets, and scious and made-up expression of face, he shall find enough. In the warm neighas if they felt they were sitting for their bourhood of towns he may still watch the pictures. He has, however, in general, titmous seeking its food through the straw
field-fares, thrushes, and blackbirds; the caught their characters very cleverly, thatch ; the red-wings, field-fares, sky-larks, and not only is May in no danger of and tit-larks, upon the same errand, over being mistaken for December, but those wet meadows ; the sparrows, and yellow, two freezing gentlemen, January and hammers, and chaffinches, still beautiful February, as well as March and April, though mute, gleaning from the straw and though with a close family resem- chaff' in farm-yards ; and the ring-dove, al. blance, do nevertheless, on Mr Hunt's ways poetical, coming for her meal to the canvass, as in nature, exhibit also a
ivy-berries. About rapid streams he may family disagreement. We quote, with see the various habits and movements of much pleasure, the picture of January, water-fowl, who are obliged to quit the fro
herons, wood-cocks, wild-ducks, and other as a very favourable specimen of Mr
zen marshes to seek their food there. The Hunt's power as a painter.
red-breast comes to the windows, and often “ January is so called from the Latin into the house itself, to be rewarded for its god Janus, the door-keeper of heaven, and song, and for its far-famed. painful' obsepresider over peace,-probably, because the quies to the Children in the Wood. earth is at leisure in this month, as well as “ The fruits still in season, which are from its being the gate of the year. The the same also for two months more, are Greek months were named after different almonds, apples, chesnuts, pears and wal.
muts. In the gardens and hedges beautiful ticipated. It is worth adding, that artificial colours are still peeping for the eye that flowers were never, perhaps, so well made seeks them : among flowers,—the cyclamen, as they are now, and that they may be put hazel-wort, the crocus or saffron flower that in pots and glasses like real ones, or hung up died the garments of Aurora and Hymen, in wreaths and crowns over pictures, door. the perriwinkle, the polyanthus, yellow, ways, or the middle of a pier, where they aconite, Alpine alysson, anemone, hellebore, form at once a summer picture of their own, the fiery glow of the wall-flower, the snow- a memorial of classical times, and a beauti. drop, with its little tints of green, and the ful contrast to the squareness of the comprimrose or rose of the prime :-among partment. It was pleasantly said by sometrees and shrubs, the Glastonbury-thorn, body, on seeing a real rose after one of these whose flourishing at Christmas used to be manufactured ones, ~Very lovely, indeed! counted miraculous, laurustinus with its de. It is almost as good as artificial.' licate clumps of white, laureola or spurge
“ Those who cultivate a few flowers for laurel, pyracantha, arbutus or strawberry- their particular amusement (we do not of tree, a favourite with Virgil, which looks course address ourselves to gardeners) should like strawberries growing on a bay, and the now occasionally take in their best ranuncualaternus, which Englishmen in gratitude luses, and protect their choice carnations, should call the Evelyn, after that excellent hyacinths, and tulips, with hoops, inats, or rural patriot who first • had the honour,' glasses. It is time also, in mild dry weahe says, to bring it into use and reputation ther, to plant ranunculuses, anemones, tu. in this kingdom, and propagated it from lips, and bulbous flowers ; and for early Cornwall even to Cumberland. Then, as blowing, crocuses and snow-drops. The to berries, what can be desired beyond the bulbous flowers in glasses within doors holly alone, which made this friend of Cowley should have their water kept clean ; and it burst out into a poetical rapture. • We is better for all flowers in a house to have as still dress up both our churches and houses,' much light and sunshine as possible, which says he, on Christmas and other festival some of them seem absolutely to yearn and days, with its cheerful green, and rutilunt strain after. berries. Is there under heaven a more glo. “ But the very frost itself is a world of rious and refreshing object of the kind, than pleasure and fairy beauty. The snow danan impregnable hedge of about four hundred ces down to earth, filling all the airy vacanfoot in length, nine foot high, and five in cy with a giddy whiteness ; and minutely indiameter, which I can now shew in my spected, every particle is a chrystal star, the ruined gardens at Say's Court (thanks to the delight perhaps of myriads of invisible eyes. Czar of Muscovy) at any time of the year. The ice (hereafter destined to • temper dulglittering with its armed and varnished cet creams' for us in the heat of summer) leaves, the taller standards at orderly dis- affords a new and rare pastime for the skaitances, blushing with their natural coral ?' ter, almost next to flying ; or suddenly suc
“ But what was thought enchantment in ceeding to rain, strikes the trees and the old times, may be practised now by every grasses into silver. But what can be more body who chuses to force flowers. These delicately beautiful than the spectacle which may be had all the winter-time, though they sometimes salutes the eye at the breakfastare best in every respect where they can be room window, occasioned by the hoar-frost taken care of in a green-house, or seen or frozen dew? If a jeweller had come to through a glass partition at the end of a dress every plant over night to surprise an large room, as in some of the houses of the Eastern sultan, he could not produce any rich. The truth is, that many flowers in a thing like the pearly drops,' or the • sil. room are not wholesome, unless they can very plumage.' An ordinary bed of greens, have air and lig to enable them to give to those who are not at the mercy of their out properly that oxygen or vital air, which own vulgar associations, will sometimes look they exhale in genial situations during the like crisp and corrugated emerald, powdered day-time. During the night, they are als with diamonds. ways unwholesome, as they throw out hy- “ Under the apparent coldness of the snow, drogen and absorb the oxygen. And yet the herbaceous plants, which die down to perhaps our excessively artificial and in-door the root in autumn, lie nourishing their habits, in helping to enervate us, render un. shoots for the spring. Nor is much done wholesome what would be otherwise percep- by the animal creation, man included, tible only as a pleasure. At all events, a during this period. Many birds and repfew flowers on a shelf, such as hyacinths tiles make a long night-time of the hard and jonquils, can do no harm, and are very season, and are awake only in finer weabeautiful with their curling or down-looking ther. The domestic cattle are mostly lodged buds, and their ivory roots seen through the in the homestead. The farmer lops and water. The rest of the flowers that may be cuts timber, mends thorn hedges, and draws forced in winter are lilacs, lilies of the val. manure to his fields. Many trades, espeley (an exquisite intermixture of leaves and cially those connected with water, are at a bells), mignonette or the little darling, stand during the frost. The thresher's pinks, polyanthus narcissus, roses, tulips, time is the merriest as well as most in, mnd violets ; in fact, a whole summer an. dustrious, for he works away his fail in
the barn. In the merrier days of our an.
The lasses in the gardens
Shew forth their heads of hair, cestors, it was customary for every village
With rosiness and lightsomeness and town-hall to have its great top, which A chasing here and there; the poorer inhabitants emulated each other And then they'll hear the birds, and stand,
And shade their eyes with lifted hand. in lashing, a practice well worth revival. For those of the wealthier classes, who
And then again they're off there,
As if their lovers came, can afford leisure (and all could if they With giddiness and gladsomeness, were wise), walking or riding, according Ahi light your cheeks at Nature, do,
Like doves as the surface of the earth permits, is so And draw the whole world after
you. much healthy wine to the blood. A good dinner, well earned, will then do no harm;
Two Sonnets, with the signature I., and then again the long snug evening re- we opine to be the property of the turns, with the “ sopha wheeled round,"
" Muse's Son of Promise, two and the “ curtains" down; or balls and feats of Johnny Keates." We cannot theatres invite them to hurry betwixt house be mistaken of them. Whatever be and house—the one sending them with per- the name of the supposed fatherfect digestion to sleep, or the other help
Tims or Tomkins—Johnny Keates ing to remind them of the common rights of humanity, a lesson now peculiarly sea
gignated these sonnets. To each of
them we may say, sonable. If the farmer thinks it his duty, as well as his interest, to take care of his “ Sleep image of thy Father, sleep my Boy !” very cattle, and see them well housed, how
are anxious to bring this much more incumbent is it upon the rich young writer into notice, we quote his to look after their poor fellow-creatures,
sonnets. and see what can be done to secure them the common necessaries of " meat, clothes,
THE HUMAN SEASONS. and fire.” Let those who give no pleasure Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; be assured, that their toils and possessions are
There are four seasons in the mind of man;
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear in vain, for they can receive none ;-no!
Takes in all beauty with an easy span: and least of all from Nature, notwithstand- He has his Summer, when luxuriously ing her ever-ready and exuberant treasures. Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming nigh The poetry is by Mr Hunt, Mr His nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings Shelly, Mr Cornwall, and (ni fallor)
He furleth close; contented so to look by Mr Keates. Mr Hunt's contribu- On mists in idleness-to let fair things tions are entitled “ Power and Gen
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, tleness," and " The Summer of 1818.” Or else he would forego his mortal nature'. The first has some picturesque lines in it, but is unendurably Cockneyish, and
SONNET TO AILSA ROCK. at times unintelligible to the exist- Hearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid !
Give answer from thy voice, the sea fowls' ing race of man; as, for example, Eagles on their rocks
When were thy shoulders mantled in huge With straining feet, and that fierce mouth and drear,
streams? Answering the strain with downward drag austere.
When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid? Does the last of these lines describe
How long is't since the mighty power bid
Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams? the Spread Eagle Coach going down Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams, hill with the wheel locked?
Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverlid.
Thou answer'st not, for thou art dead asleep; mer in 1818," is, on the whole, really
Thy life is but two dead eternities to amiable and pretty—though there is The last in air, the former in the deep;
First with the whales, last with the eagle-skies something risible in the poet's mouth
Drown'd wast thou till an earthquake made thee watering at the future dessert of steep,
Another cannot wake thy giant size. plums and pears—and his flirtation in the garden has something about it rather Miss-Molly-ish. Here it is.
The first of these compositions is THE SUMMER OF 1818.
very well—a common and hackneyed The months we used to read of
thought is illustrated in a novel and Are come to us again,
also natural manner and we thank With sunniness and sunniness And rare delights of rain;
Mr Keates for his sonnet. But who The lark is up, and says aloud,
but himself could form a collocation East and west I see no cloud. The lanes are full of roses,
of words to produce such portentous The fields are grassy deep;
folly as in the second ? Mister John The leafiness and floweriness Make one abundant heap;
Keates standing on the sea-shore at The balmy blossom-breathing airs
Dunbar, without a neckcloth, accordSmell of future plums and pears. The sunshine at our waking
ing to custom of Cockaigne, and crossIs still found smiling by;
questioning the Craig of Ailsa ! With beamingness and earnestness, Like some beloved eye ;
" Thou answerest not for thou art dead asleep!" And all the day it seems to take Delight in being broad awake.
This reminds us of an exclamation
in an ode lately submitted to our To stay thy car upon the Latmos hill,
Touch with a clouded hand thy look of light; perusal by an ingenious and modest Nor elemental blight young man, in which, about half way Mar the rich beauties of thy hyacinthine hair. down, he exclaims, as if prophetically,
Queen of the tumbling floods! oh lend thine ear
To us who seek and praise thee hereREADER AWAKE!” There is much-Fright not the Halcyon from her watery nest, smartness in the idea of “ two dead When on the scarcely-moving waves she sits
Listening-sore distrest eternities.” An eternity especially, Lest that the winds, in sullen fits, past with whales, is enough to make
Should come, and lift the curling seas on high :
-Yet, if the storm must come-then Dian ! then the stoutest reader blubber. Do not let Scatter the billows from the Delphic shore, John Keates think we dislike him.
And bid the monsters of the deep go roar
In those far foreign caves He is a young man of some poetry; Sicilian, where the ocean raves but at present he has not more than
For ever, (dug, 'tis said, by giant men
Beneath Pelorus' rugged promontory.) about a dozen admirers,—Mr Leigh On thy white altar we Hunt whom he feeds on the oil-cakes Lavish in fond idolatry.
Herbs and sweet flowers such as the summer uses: of flattery till he becomes flatulent
Some that in wheaton fields of praise,-Mr Benjamin Haydon, Lift their red bells amidst the golden grain :
Some that the moist earth yields, who used to laugh at him till that fa
Beneath the shadows of those pine trees high, mous sonnet--three engrossing clerks Which, branching, shield the far Thessalian
plains and six or seven medical students, From the fierce anger of Apollo's eyewho chaunt portions of Endymion as
And some that Delphic swains
Pluck by the silver springs of Castaly they walk the hospitals, because the (Yet, there—thus it is said the wanton Muses, author was once an apothecary. We
Their dark and tangled locks adorning,
Lie stretch'd on green slopes 'neath the laurel alone like him and laugh at him. boughs, He is at present a very amiable, silly,
Or weave sad garlands for their brows;
And tho' they shun thee thro' the livelong night, lisping, and pragmatical young gentle. Bend their blue eyes before the God of morning, man-but we hope to cure him of all
And hail with shouts his first return of light.-) that-and should have much pleasure Before whose moony brow,
Now and for ever hail, great Dian !-Thou, in introducing him to our readers in a The rolling planets die, or lose their fires, year or two speaking the language of And all the bravery of Heaven retires
-There, Saturn dimly turns within his ring, this country, counting his fingers cor- And Jove looks pale upon his burning throne; rectly, and condescending toaneckcloth. There, the great hunter-king
Orion, mourns with watery glare, Why should Leigh Hunt and John The tarnish'd lustre of his blazing zone
Thou only through the blue and starry air, Keates have a higher opinion of them
In unabated beauty rid'st along, selves, than Barry Cornwall? One Companion’d by our song o dramatic seene”-even the very
Turn hither, then, thy clear and stedfast smile,
To grace our humble welcoming, tainest and most imitative of them all And free the poet's brain is worth both " The two dead Eter
From all but that so famous pain,
Which sometimes, at the still midnight, nities” of the Cockneys.
Stirs his creative fancyings, while,
(Charm'd by thy silver light), charge Barry Cornwall, coram popu- He strives, not vainly then, his sweetest song to lo, with the following hymn to Diana. sing. It is classical, without being pedantic. It would greatly amuse us, to meet HYMN TO DIANA.
in company together Johnny Keates Dian !-We seek thee in this tranquil hour; and Percy Bysshe Shelly,--and as they We call thee by thy names of power;
are both friends of Mr Leigh Hunt, Lucina ! first-(that tender name divine, Which young and travail'd dames adore and fear;) we do not despair of witnessing the Child of the dark-brow'd Proserpine ! Star-crowned Dian! Daughter of Jove
conjunction of these planets on HampOlympian! Mother of blind Love!
stead Hill, when we visit London in Fair Cynthia ! Towered Cybele! Lady of stainless chastity!
spring. A bird of paradise and a
Friezeland fowl would not look more Bend low thy listening ear, And smile upon us, now the long day's toil, absurdly, on the same perch. Hear Beautiful queen! is done, And from the withering sun
with what a deep voice of inspiration
A pale dream came to a Lady fair,
And said, a boon, a boon, I pray!
I know the secrets of the air,
And things are lost in the glare of day,
Which I can make the sleeping see,
If they will put their trust in me.
And thou shalt know of things unknown,
If thou will let me rest between When calm he slumbers on the mountain's brow : The veiny lids, whose fringe is thrown And may no doubt, not care,
Over thine eyes so dark and sheen: When thou shalt wish, on nights serene and
And half in hope, and half in fright, still
The lady closed her eyes so bright.