man; but arrows and spears rebounded in shivers from my body. The Saracen's flaming sword broke upon my skull-balls in vain hissed upon me-the lightnings of battle glared harmless around my loins-in vain did the elephant trample on me—in vain the iron hoof of the wrathful steed! The mine, big with destructive power, burst upon me, and hurled me high in the air. I fell on heaps of smoking limbs, but was only singed. The giant's steel club rebounded from my body; the executioner's hand could not strangle me; the tyger's tooth could not pierce me, nor would the hungry lion in the circus devour me. I mixed with poisonous snakes, and pinched the red crest of the dragon. stung, but could not destroy me; the mented, but dared not to devour me. The serpent dragon tor I now pro voked the fury of tyrants: I said to Nero, Thou art a bloodhound! I said to Christiern, Thou art a bloodhound! I said to Muley Ismail, Thou art a bloodhound! The tyrants invented cruel torments, but did not kill me. -Ha! not to be able to die -not to be able to die-not to be permitted to rest after the toils of life-to be doomed to be imprisoned for ever in the clay-formed dungeon-to be for ever clogged with this worthless body, its load of diseases and infirmities-to be condemned to hold for millenniums that yawning monster Sameness and Time, that hungry hyena, ever bearing children, and ever devouring again her offspring!-Ha! not to be permitted to die! Awful avenger in heaven, hast thou in thine armoury of wrath a punishment more dreadful?—then let it thunder upon me-command a hurricane to sweep me down to the foot of Carmel, that I there may lie extended: may pant, and writhe, and die !- -- This fragment is the translation of part of some German work, whose title I have vainly endeavoured to discover. I picked it up, dirty and torn, some years ago, in Lincoln's-Inn Fields. SHELLEY. ACCOUNT OF SAM SCOT'S SMOKING CLUB. My magotty man Sam, as his master used to call him in the time of his apprenticeship; when he set up for himself, kept a music shop at the TempleGate, where the bastard sons of Apollo were accustomed to furnish themselves with harps and fiddles; and the tiptoe masters of the mathematical step used to supply their occasions with new minuets and bories. Sam Scot, the better to ingratiate himself with his customers, affected such a sort of life as he thought might be most agreeable to those whimsical performers, who, having their heads stuffed with crotchets, and their heels full of activity, could never rest in their beds till they had tamed their faculties, and drowned all thoughts of their airy professions, with an inebrious excess. This Sam Scot observing, was resolved to be as forward as any of them But sadder still it were to trace What once were feelings in that face— Even by the crimes through which it waded--- Of wayward deeds-and fitting doom A noble soul, and lineage high. t Which Grief could change-and Guilt could stain It was no vulgar tenement To which such lofty gifts were lent, Will scarce delay the passer by--- Demands and daunts the stranger's eyeEach ivied arch-and pillar lone, Pleads haughtily for glories gone! Might thank the pang that made it less... 7 We loathe what none are left to share- Whose beak unlocks her bosom's stream; The waste of feelings unemploy'd BYRON. PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY THE CELEBRATED GEORGE BARRINGTON, AT OPENING THE THEATRE AT BOTANY BAY. FROM distant climes, o'er far spread seas we come, In private views at end, our generous zeal, But you inquire, what could our breasts inflame Your patience, Sirs; some observations made, To find Macheath we have not far to roam; |