the nail, the fellows give lose to their joy, rush towards the chair, tumultuously embrace their new brother, and as they dance round the young doctor, shout Laudamus hunc doctorem, The number of wheelbarrows required after the initiation of Bogsie, our poet has not recorded; tradition says a dozen, which, considering that there were twenty-four fellows, including præses and his deputy, is no slight proof of the quieting effects of the ceremony, whereby two fellows could be accommodated in one wheelbarrow. The next writer in our catalogue is Doctor Geddes, who was born in the parish of Ruthven, in the county of Banff, in the year 1737, and who in the years 1790.95 and 1800 contributed three macaronic poems. The first a burlesque account of the dinner of the dissenters in the year 1790; the second an ode to Pitt; the last an account of a battle between two rival authors in a bookseller's shop. The kindness of the laird of Ruthven enabled young Geddes to obtain a good education at the Roman Catholic seminary of Scalan, in the Highlands, whence, at the age of twenty-one, he was removed to the Scotch college at Paris, where he diligently studied theology, and made himself master of most European languages. After a time he returned to his native land, and resided in the house of the Earl of Traquair, until he accepted, at the age of thirty-two, the care of the Roman Catholic congregation at Nuchinhalrig, in his own county, where for ten years he remained a faithful minister. On his removal to London, the munificence of Lord Petre enabled him to execute the darling wish of his heart, a new translation of the Bible for the professors of his own faith. After ten years, the work appeared, and the rationalistic tendency of his comments soon brought on him the reproof of his ecclesiastical superiors. It was during this time that he amused himself with satirising the Benthams, the Sawbridges, the Beaufoys, and all the other liberty boys of his day, while he equally lashes in his ode to Pitt, their opponents, the minister, and his supporters. Our author died in 1802, at the age of 65. The letter to his brother, in which the meeting at the London Tavern in February 1790, is so ably sketched, opens with a description of the locus in quo, and the broad classes into which the three hundred grumblers might be classed. Est locus in London, Londini dicta Taberna, Et placeas, postas, mercedes, munia, graspant. The poet then enumerates the various leaders of the motley crowd from Fox to Priestley; the latter, prevented from attending; describes the settling of the party at the "ternas tabulas longo ordine postas," decorated with the gastronomic weapons, from spoons and forks to vinegar-cruets, the entrance of the caupo magna comitante catervà servorum, the depositing of the dishes, "centum et magni ponderis," and the grace from the lips of " Mystes." The dedication concluded and the "coveris sublatis," each man seizes his arms "impetu et unanimi prostrata in fercula fertur." The muse macaronic then descends to the particulars of the feast, and relates in moving strains how the noble ox first fell a victim in the onslaught. "Bos ingens, pinguis, torvus; qui fronte minaci Hunc, simul aggressi sex fortes cheapsideani The like fate two calves meet with from the hands of the "prentice boys atque scholares," nor do the three timid lambs, whose Ba Ba would not have deterred one damsel from effecting their death, meet with mercy from the hungry crowd. Hos porci totidem hamati pluerumque sequuntur ; Cum sex porcellis, heu nuper ab ubere matrum The fate of hares, coneys, turkeys, and all the varieties of the feathered race that are wont to appear at the summons of the chef de cuisine of the London tavern, must be passed by without further notice; nor can we delay on the various fortunes of the inhabitants of the ocean, or of the tenants of the frame, the kail-pot, or the cauliflower glass. The fate however of one bird, fit emblem of his executioner and the assembly, deserves a moment's delay and a trifling space. Let us, however, correct one impression which the extract might create in some persons' minds. The executioner, although a city grocer, was not of sufficient authority, by his act of quadripartite division, to upset the old and over true proverb of a goose being a wasteful bird, too much for two, and not enough for three. But to our quotation; Amnicola imprimis grandævus prodiit anser The majority of the allusions in this poem are so confined to the party politics of the day in which it was written, that they would lose Breech-pocket one hand fills; tortam tenet altera chartam ; Tam pandit big-mouth-atque, O! quæ grandia verba repente Auditur strepitus discors; dum voce sonorà, Pars una "Hear," "Hear him!" " Move!" "Move!" pars altera clamat : Orator vehemens fit lector frigidus-atque Undenas promit tarde torveque resolvas. Dr. Geddes's ode to Mr. Pitt next deserves attention. Suddenly inspired with a wish of celebrating the minister of ministers, the poet summons his mortal handmaiden to bring paper, pen, and ink— chartam, calamos et inkum—whilst at the same time he calls on the muse of the greatest of Macaronic poets, old Merlin Cocaius, to befriend him in his attempts to imitate in one ode the power of the Theban bard and the sweetness of the Lesbian songstress. But here arises a question about instruments: the rude harp on which the Boeotian lied about sundry cab and coach drivers, horse-jockeys and prize-fighters, is equally unsuited to the Macaronic muse with the lyre on which the Lesbian poured out her amatory complaints. Two fuil toned instruments are offered to him, the Jew's-harp and the Scottish bagpipes; his ode is suited to either. At one time the minister is a star, at another a king among kings: now the cold chastity of his disposition, now the diurnal regularity with which he sacrifices to Ceres and Bacchus, is celebrated. Again the poet passes on to the wonders of his memory, the witchery of his eloquence. Hear the muse. An canam mirum memoremque mentem Nulla remembrat. Larga verborum potius canenda Flumina; istudque eloquium bewitching Fascinat aures. No sooner satiated with one wonder, the muse is arrested in her course by the fantoccini-like movements of the three hundred se nators. The fifteen score of wise compeers, With gaping mouths, and pucked up ears; who moved by his godlike nod, Move every way that he requires, Squeak age and no at his desires. Wonder-stricken even to sympathetic paralysis by that mighty man, of whom the poet can say, Ille with ease can facere alba nigra, Rendere lucem. The minister's skill in exciting wars and tumults, and frightening, "unico blasto," the Russian bear, and "unico gestu," the Iberian fox crave the time and labour of the poet, ere he records Pitt's good intentions towards the French armies, foiled by his own commanders. Ille gallorum impavidas catervas The minister At the sixteenth stanza the muse becomes excited. comes forth not only as the defender of kings and princes, and the punisher of rebellious subjects-not only as a lawyer capable of exacting more quiddities from an act of parliament than even a Coke-but as the cleverest ferret after puff plots, and id genus omne of conspiracies and rebellions. Once mounted on her courser of adulation, the muse rides on gloriously, until the word TAXES appears as a deep ditch on her road. With a sudden deep-drawn sigh she checks her Pegasus with the rein, and once more descends to only moderate praise, and ere long flies off from the minister to his supporters, and strives to forget even the income-tax in the praises of Rose, Dundas, and Richmond. Anon she sees a vast company of deserters from the ranks of the opposition. See greater names the phalanx join And leave the phalanx jacobine Among them Portland's duke famosus olim Whiggus, et whiggorum caput becomes, under the bland and persuasive eloquence of the minister, Flammæus Toræus. A Mansfield draws out his long words and sentences against his former friends, whilst Wyndham, The prince of those who vend Rare logomachies without end; the former patron of the people-now Sponte conversus, populi querelas Cares not a fig for. As for the rest of the attendant crowd, the poet dismisses them without a word, loyal followers indeed of the king and his boy minister -pueri ministri-but mere ciphers— nam numeri sunt. The poet's working tools are laid aside, the muse macaronic returns to her midday siesta, the poet to his wine. Of Doctor Geddes's other poem, the Bardomachia, we have been unable to obtain a copy, and cannot, therefore, offer either an account or a specimen of it. And thus having brought down our account of Macaronic poetry to the beginning of this century, we close this our second paper. PHILOMELOPHAGY. I WISH, thought I to myself, as I sat last night in the beautiful park (those who know Pau will long remember it, with its distant view of the snow-clad Pyrenees, and its river flowing with "a sweet inland murmur"); I wish the French would not eat the nightingales. Let them imitate Rome in all her other refinements, and welcome; let them even not spare the rod to the infant pig, but bring him to table made meat for the gods, by a judicious and not over-hasty course of chastisement. In a word, For brevity is very good, When w' are, or are not understood, let them whip their pigs to death, and small blame to them. Who but a savage would compare for a moment the flavour of the jugulated with that of the chastened porker? The one contaminated by the murderous iron, dies like a ruffian choked with passion, and in the utterance of a prolonged squeal: the other like a martyr, as he is, in the odour of sanctity, and purified from the sty by the rod, resigns his breath with a sigh. And then when brought to table, what lily of the valley can vie with him in delicacy of complexion ! Yet would I not be thought to be preaching up the doctrine of por cine castigation. I am not the one to advise that the pig should be placed on the same footingwith the military. Albeit I am not insensible to the advantages of the system, yet would I not be the first to exhort my countrymen to a practice which might shock the over-sensitive, and would most assuredly ruin the knife-grinder. My maxim is, "live and let live;" the knife-grinder I mean of course, not the porker; his doom was fixed long ago, the only question being, whether he is to be allowed the crown of martyrdom like Sancho, if in his dutiful anxiety he had disciplined the flesh overmuch, or whether our friend is to die in the common manner. No-let our neighbours have all the credit of the revival of this philosophic expedient. Let them take out their brevet of invention, and we will be content to masticate this delicious morsel of their providing. The patentee shall advertise in all the continental journals. The Jews and all other non-porking denominations, shall enjoy a six weeks dispensation, purchased by general subscription. The theatres at Paris shall postpone their representations, and become temporary restaurants: ten francs shall purchase a box-seat and a plate of "cochon au fouet." The refined in taste, but low in pocket, shall for two francs inhale the delicate aroma in the gallery. Yes, whip your" frightful pigs" (as one of our grunter-breeding representatives the other night called the injured cochons of La Belle France), whip your frightful pigs into convulsions-into syllabubs; but do not, for mercy's sake, make your nightingales into pies. In the south of France, the singing of birds, that most soothing of all sounds, is heard but little. Poachers and pot-hunters as the French are, all May through we had perdreaux at the tuble-d'hôte in |