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THE

LONDON MAGAZINE.

SEPTEMBER, 1823.

CONTENTS.

....

Che Lion's head.

Elegiac Stanzas, written by an Officer

long resident in India, on his Return to England ..

284 SEA-ROAMERS. OLD JOHNNY WOLGAR .......

237

SIR Hugh HERON, a Tale, with
Ballad

285 Nugæ CRITICÆ, by the Author of

AU by the lake Hugh Heron ELIA. No. I.

lay..

295 DEFENCE of the Sonnets of SiR PAILIP SYDNEY....... 248 Birth-Day Verses, translated from

the Dutch of Tollens.....

300 Sonnet from the Italian of Filicaja.. 252

CHARLES DUKE OF ORLEANS. Notes from the Pocket Book of a

EARLY French Poets, with late OPIUM EATER. No. I. WALKING STEWART..

301 253

Translations...... The Nuns and Ale of Caverswell. A The DOOMED MAN..

306 Sketch .... 260 | REPORT of Music...

317 GREEK TRAGIC SCENES. ÆSCHYLUS. THE DRAMA

321 Scene from the AGAMEMNON... 262 Sketch of Foreign Literature..

324 Account of the Festival at Haarlem,

THE PROGRESS of SCIENCE, &c... 327 July 10, 11, in Commemoration

330 of the Invention of Printing....... 272 VIEW OF PUBLIC AFFAIRS A THIRD LETTER TO THE DRA- Literary Intelligence, and List of Books MATISTS OF THE DAY.......... 275 published ....

...341, 342 Sonnet written on seeing a Greek at

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Ecclesiastical Preferments

343 Vauxhall ....

283 | Births, Marriages, and Deaths ...343, 344

.......

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR TAYLOR AND HESSEY.

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THE LION'S HEAD.

THE author of "The Doomed Man" will see his doom in our present Number. We did not like to avail ourselves of his permission to divide it, for the story is too interesting to be given piecemeal,-we therefore kept it back till we had an opportunity of doing justice both to our readers and to the author.

Edward Herbert's Letter on a Peculiar Race of Men and Horses is come to hand:-we thought he had been dead. We will strain a point to make room for him in our next.

"Now, says I to mysel', John Mill, says I (that's my name, Sir), gif ye were drawing up a bit summary i' the shape o' a letter, o' your ain journey to London, and sendin 't to him, maybe he might print it; and tho' he didnae, there'll be twa or three hints in it which may be usefu' to him; and if he did pit it in his magazin', what wad ye say to that, John! says I: my conscience, man! and what wad the Corporation say to that? So down I sits and writes as above and under."

Our friend John Mill of Stirling is a clever merry fellow, and we should be glad to hear him tell his story, with the rich humour that his face and voice could throw into it: but the written story will not do, John, though there are some good points about it. We remember him well at the theatre: "Farren, in Cent. per Cent. made the hale house roar themsels sair wi' his faces, and I mysel was standin' behind the fidlers just, and laugh'd sae rarely at the awfu' mouths he was makin' that I mair than ance put him oot o' countenance."

L. is a very indifferent Poet; we have as good as told him so before: but among a heap of nonsense he sometimes gives us a verse or two that smacks of the genuine Hippocrene. The following are in his Address to the Sun.

Thy palace is the boundless Sky,

Thy throne the gorgeous Clouds,
Thy subjects are the Stars on high-
Those bright day-hidden erowds.

Thou art above the reach of Time;

Whilst he destroys, thou smil'st on him :
Babel-Ambition cannot climb

So high, nor Havoc make thee dim.

Lines to the Lady of Alderman “ on her being indisposed in the Long Reach” during the late dangerous voyage to the Nore, are not suited to our pages. The author appends to his poem a note upon the dangerous state of London Bridge ;-but we think before it is pronounced dangerous, it ought to be tried by its piers.

a

Q. Y. intreats us, to intreat the author of the Police Reports in the Morning Herald to collect them into a volume:-we rather think there are more authors than one concerned in se reports; and we are quite sure that they relish better as fruit for the breakfast table than if gathered for preserving.

C. B. D. will not long be deprived of the papers which he so much admires. His verses are too ambitious they rumble like the thunder storm which they describe: What would we not give for a few simple lines, instead of all this hurley burley! (“ Listen awhile ye nations, and be dumb :")

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The renovated Wind now roars again,
Plying his giant lungs in agony,
"Howling, and muttering thunder! How the rain
Whirl'd with the rattling hail comes foaming ! See
The momentary flash dispatch'd to be
The herald of the Thunder! Hark, he comes,
The formidable Lord of Terrors ! He
Whose last dread peal shall pierce old Hades' gloom,
And with galvanic shock resuscitate the tomb !!!

Peter-Pindar's Ode is quite the reverse of what it attempts to be:-truly we are tired of old Joe Millers harassed into rhyme. P. P.'s Ode is more than ordinarily guilty of irregularity.

A constant Subscriber at Rochester will find what he inquires for at the end of each volume.

T. H.-B.W.'s “ Storm," a Sonnet.-J. F.'s Lines on Seeing, &c.-Sonnet by J. L.—The Nun.-Homily for Poets, &c. by Ontario.-Night, by J.J. S. and several Pieces, the writers of which ask for private Answers, are blackballed.

THE

London Magazine.

SEPTEMBER, 1823.

SEA-ROAMERS.-OLD JOHNNY WOLGAR.
List ye landsmen all to me.

THAT" one half of the world does
not know how the other half lives,"
is a very ancient truth, I fancy, and,
in spite of the advances of know-
ledge, it is perfectly applicable, I be
lieve, in the present era of mankind.
Every man has his own world, or a
little plot cut out of the great mass
to which his own wants and habi-
tudes confine his experience, and
which he calls "the world." The
Duke of
has so many courses
served up to his dinner-table daily,
the remains of which, he is positive,
are removed to be consumed by his
servants; and this, he determines, is
the way of the world." Every
body does so. He wears a coat three
weeks, and then makes it over to his
butler-and that is how people get
clothed. Not a dozen streets from
his princely mansion, there are human
beings wondering, whether" the
bone hashed up with a few potatoes
will do for to-morrow;" others a-
greeing that a bit of mutton "is
rather high, but will do to make broth
of:" and a fellow-creature protesting
that, shabby as his coat is, it will go
a month or two yet-turned; yet
such things are as inconceivable to
the Duke as if they were occurrences
of another planet. Has his Grace
the smallest conception that there is
such a stratagem on our earth as re-
beavering a hat, and reviving a pair
of trowsers? Not he, believe it.

There are means of earning a subsistence-modes of human toil, so out of the great high-ways of inSEPT. 1823.

dustry-so disconnected from the re gular rattle and bustle of the community-so lowly-lone, and independent of all general interests; that, with regard to ordinary observers, they may be said to be absolutely invisible to the naked eye, You must search for them-stoop down to them-handle them-as you would some minute and mysterious process of animal life-put your ear to them-smell at them-before you can ascertain or guess at their nature and use. What is that strange-looking man about? What then-pampered sloth! You will not go and see? Well-stay a little, and I will tell you all about it. I can assure the great Duke before-mentioned, that he may see an old man clad in black sack-cloth, with a rope round his waist-bent, and wan and greypass by his window daily at his breakfast-time, who feeds and clothes himself (just as his Grace may see) with the profit accruing from old bones which he picks up from the public streets. I am positively serious, yet his Grace, I dare say, will pause from his chocolate, and listen to the fact with the same sort of incredulous wonder with which he might hear that there are living beings some hundred thousands of times less than a mite. And this too is far-far indeed, from the limit of human littleness and desolation.

The accidents of my life have often brought me into very intimate communion with the poor, so as to make

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