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By the extension of this present Number a whole sheet beyond its proper limits, in order to include some very important papers, we hope to please both our Readers and Contributors, while we relieve ourselves a little from that vast accumulation of materials, which scarcely leaves us room on our table to pen this notice. The continuation of the Life of Schiller-of the Essays on English Versification, by the Public Orator of Oxford,—and the long promised insertion of Richard the Third, after the Manner of the Ancients, of Forest Legends, of the Life of Chatterton, of Lillian of the Vale, &c. &c. shall take place, if possible, next month.

Our Irish friends will see, by the able article which takes the lead in the present Number, that we are not disposed to neglect them: a Review of Captain Rock's Memoirs will appear next month.

As for the many letters and essays on Political Economy, which have been sent us in reply to the Templars' Dialogues, we must entreat the forbearance of their writers till our friend X. Y. Z. has more fully developed his principles. To insert their remarks now would be to anticipate several objections, which at the proper time, in the course of the discussion, will receive due consideration. If at the last any doubts should remain unresolved, and they can be stated not too voluminously, we shall be ready to give them a fair hearing.

We have no "vacant corner" in our Magazine, and are therefore unable to oblige G. F. by the insertion of all his worthy Trifles. The Stanzas however to Kitty, which scarcely leave her a rhyme to her name, will very pro❤ bably see day-light on the first of June. Lion's Head is a tremendous Patron of Poets.

Coritanus, who gives so humorous an account of his eager ride to Nottingham, to see the article in print which he had sent to the LONDON MAGAZINE, will find our opinion confirmed on inspecting the contents of this Number.

We are glad to find room in the Lion's Head for the following sonnet :


Give me that freeborn heart, that will not bear
Oppression's chain, but fiercely from it burst,
Or in the effort burst itself; that dare

Endure of deaths the longest and the worst,
But dare not be enslaved !-Oh! it is brave
To imitate the oak, that will not bend
Its form majestic, though itself to save,

Before the wildest storm that heaven can send ;
Which nobler looks, though lying overthrown,
After its daring, than the willow when

It raises, from the danger overblown,

Its dastard, mean, submissive self again-
That lowly crouch'd to earth before the blast,
But, insolent, laughs at it when 'tis past.

Nugator will see, on reference to our former Numbers, that his plan has been too nearly anticipated in the admirable articles entitled "Early French Poets," to allow of our engaging in it.-At the same time there is so much merit in his Imitation of De l'Amour Antique of Clement Marot, as makes it a welcome offering for the Lion.


In good old times, when Love was jolly,
And prudish arts were deem'd but folly,
And gifts were gifts, and honest coaxing
Was little like your modern hoaxing;

Then folks (God bless them!) thought it holy
That hearty courtship, when begun,

Through twenty, thirty, years should run,
A century of artless fun

In good old times.

But now 'tis nought but mimic tears,
And hollow grief and studied fears :-
Then cease my want of Love to blame,
For Love, I ween, is not the same.
O! bid him come as once he came
In good old times.

The doors of the LONDON MAGAZINE are always thrown wide open to those who are qualified for admission; but the following (we are sorry to say it,) have not the privilege of the entrée :

The Pilgrim.-Bethlem Gabor.-Charlotte Adeline. The Deformed Transformed. Part III.-Arthur Forrester.-To Fanny, a Pastoral Tale.Young Owen.-F. natural.-Sonnet by W. F.-Sonnet by O.-B. R.-The Cottager, by G. N.-M. L.-The Awakening.-The Silent Woman.


London Magazine.

MAY, 1824.




WHEN intelligence of Prince Hohenlohe's exploits in Ireland crossed the Styx, the unholy Legitimate of those dominions, who had long looked upon that country as his own, became exceedingly dispirited. He had been so busy in St. Helena and in Spain, and moreover he had relied so much upon many about the Castle, the Catholic Association, and the Orange Lodges, that it never for a moment entered his head that his island ascendancy could be possibly endangered. He therefore left it entirely to itself, convinced from experience that he could do no better. The first

miracle or two disturbed him littlehe looked on them as mere fitful gleams of disaffection that would just glimmer and disappear, and trusted to the natural disposition of the people that they would not be long remembered. So many fine, redeeming spirits had already beamed their hour in Ireland, and been disregarded, or contemned, or slandered, or persecuted, that he had little fears for a dominion held for seven centuries jure inferno. One circumstance alone oppressed him-the modern distinctions were achieved by a foreigner-had they indeed been the work of a native, he would have laughed them to scorn, because morally certain that in such case, the country would have discouraged them; never was there a birth-place in which a prophet has less honour

whiskey is the only native spirit Ireland ever countenanced, and for the protection of that she has the devil's especial permit. Such were his reflections, when the Dublin Evening Mail brought him the case of Miss O'Rourke ! "Oh! ho!" said he, "this looks rebellion," as he outspread his wings in the act of instant departure; "it is indeed time for me to visit this capricious colony in person; the great O's must not be interfered with; to the O'Connor Don of seven hundred years ago I owe my sovereignty, and from that day to this the great O's have been to me a kind of Vice Legitimates—candid and unaffected followers! they disdain even the disguise of a Christian appellative;* no, no, they must not be interfered with;" so saying, he

Sprung upward, like a pyramid of fire, having lingered only for a few commissions from some late members of the Irish Parliament, who once held boroughs for him in that assembly. While in the air, his mind was chiefly occupied as to the shape which he should assume amongst his peoplehe wished to remain incog., and knew that for such a purpose his own natural likeness was the best, as there were a great many with whom he might be confounded; but still he was afraid that by some accident his regal character might be discovered, and this would have an

The old Milesian breed in Ireland uniformly reject the Christian name; they con. sider the sirname by itself as a title of nobility. MAY, 1824. 2 G

nihilated all his speculations. The moment he was recognized, all parties would of course have entered into a hollow, hypocritical conventionhe would have had patriots on their knees to him with wreaths of laurel, and insolvents subscribing for a castle in the air-corporators, without the price of it, would have been inviting him to dinner-theologians, of whom he had the reversion, would have been giving him their blessingand Sedition for the moment would have hid her pike to hail him with the shout of simulated loyalty. Full of these perplexities, he descended about midnight in the little island of Dalkey, so undetermined as to what decided shape he should assume, that at last, out of mere despair, he decided upon taking whatsoever shape might suit the convenience of the moment. This last idea was indeed suggested to him in Tartarus by some Irish politicians, who assured him that in their lifetime they had changed sides and characters a thousand times, and had thereby gained favours from power and indulgence from the people, which had very often been withheld from virtue! The devil himself was ashamed of following such an example, but still the necessity of the moment pressed on him, and he determined to compromise, by assuming none but the most sanctified disguises-an orthodox member perhaps of the Kildare-street Association, or some itinerant worldling, who preaches faith against works, and calls his mental darkness the new light. To this latter personification, indeed, he the rather inclined, because he had so many opportunities in the place he had left of studying the character, and because he had been well assured it was at present the fashion in the place to which he was going.

A fine autumnal morning now beamed upon the bay of Dublin, and showed Satan for the first time the glories of its scenery. We say emphatically, for the first time, because though the Scottish poet has thought proper to declare, that as sure as e'er the Deil's in H-ll he's in Dublin city, it is merely a fiction, and in truth poor Burns knew far less where he was, than many less human and more godly have taken upon them to establish. The fact is, he

had never been in the place before, an assertion to which we know very well Lord Wellesley will not give credit. But he had chosen on the most mature deliberation to transact his concerns there entirely by proxy, being well assured by many who had experience of both, that his subterranean dominions were far less troublesome to manage. This is an assertion however to which we believe Lord Wellesley will give credit.

It is impossible to conceive a scene more grand, romantic, or diversified than the bay of Dublin. Let any one imagine a vast expanse of ocean, bounded on three sides by lofty and majestic hills, rising in a thousand shapes, and tossed into their stations as it were by accident-the intervening space studded with little islands in all the varieties of rock, and wood, and verdure, and the city far off in the perspective, affording to the whole scene a beautiful and appropriate termination. This is its unexaggerated, every-day appearance; now however, if possible, embellished by the serene magnificence of an autumnal morning-the sun was just emerging from the horizon, and the whole lovely world of earth and water rivalled the beauty in which he arrayed the firmament. Satan looked on it, and his heart grew glad within him as he soared amid the elements-above, around, beneath him, all was harmony-a second paradise seemed rising from the ocean

every feature bore the stamp of heaven; no wonder he exulted to think that mankind made it his!

When Satan descended, 'fair Dublin city' was in unusual commotion, and the crowding of the streets and the bustle of the citizens bespoke some event of no ordinary occurrence. On inquiring the cause, he found it was a levee-day: "Aye, aye," said he, "the presence of a Viceroy is all that Ireland retains of her parliament; losing the advantages she has been left the expence-it is well that the payment of 30,000l. a year reminds this people that they once were independent; they seem now to retain no other trace of it." Stopping in College-green merely to observe and hail a statue very dear to him, he hurried to the Castle-gate to behold at once the quintennial image which royalty had erected, and

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