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I puffanti del orribil bore

Perche non pillorono nel row?
Scampo mi disgustera ?
Boro sempre bothera ?
Gran Editor confido in te!

Deh! tu lascia Cobron e Leigh' Cento ragamuffi ciakrons iutorno? Piu fouli scorno

Scornar non puo;
No-no-no-

GOOD NIGHT AND JOY BE WI' YOU A'.

THE night is wearing to the wane,

And daylight glimmering east awa';
The little sternies dance amain,

And the moon bobs aboou the shaw.
But though the tempest tout an' blaw
Upon his loudest midnight horn,

Good night an' joy be wi' you a',
We'll maybe meet again the morn.
O we hae wander'd far and wide,

O'er Scotia's land of firth and fell;
And mony a bonny flower we've pu'd,
And twined them wi' the heather bel
We've ranged the dingle and the dell,
The hamlet and the Baron's ha',

Now let us take a kind farewell,-
Good night and joy be wi' you a'.
Ye hae been kind as I was keen,
And followed where I led the way,
Till ilka poet's love we've seen

Of this and mouy a former day.
If e'er I led your steps astray,
Forgie your Minstrel aince for a';

A tear fa's wi' his parting lay,-
Good night an' joy be wi' you a'.

Omnes-Gude nicht an 'joy be wi'us a'. (Exeunt.)

The Selector;

AND

LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

HAJJI BABA IN ENGLAND.

OUR readers have not forgotten Mr. Morier's three piquant volumes of the Adventures of Hajji Baba, which this talented author has followed up with two volumes of Adventures in England. These are full of sketchy humour, and not only exhibit faithtul pictures of English manners, but equally interesting delineations of Persian prejudices; and the "whim and oddity" of our Persian travellers will, doubtless, afford many hours of entertainment to hosts of readers. We have only room for a few flying extracts; as the first night of the Orientals in London.

We passed, says the author, the first night very ill. Each of us had a bed, the curtains of which were so pretty, that we longed to cut them up for alcoloks, or to bind them round our waist; but we were unaccustomed to their heavy coverings, and found, after we had been a short time under them, that our coat and trousers became disagreeably oppressive. We all agreed, that certain white pieces The under vest, usually made of flowered chintz.

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of loose linen, which accompanied each bed, would make excellent shirts; and Taki, the ferash, who had only one, determined immediately to improve his stock. The whole household was on the stir long before the Franks thought of moving; but Mohamed Beg was much puzzled about the true hour for saying his morning prayer, for we heard no muezgins to announce it from the mosques; and, besides, the nights were so much longer than any we had been accustomed to, that we had almost settled amongst ourselves that the sun never rose in this ill-conditioned city. We had walked about the house for several hours almost in total darkness, and were, in despair, waiting for the dawn, when, at length, we heard noises in the street, indicating that the inhabitants were awake. During the whole night, at intervals, we had watched the cries of what were evidently guards of the night, who, like the keshekchis on the walls of the Ark,* announce that all is right; but those we now heard were quite different. At first, we thought they might be muezzins appointed to cry out the Frangi azan, the invitation to the inhabitants to arise and pray; and, indeed, looking at them through the twilight, we were confirmed in our idea, for they were dressed in black, as all the English men of God are; but we were evidently mistaken, because, although they uttered their cry in a variety of loud shrill tones, yet still no one seemed to rise a moment the sooner, or to have the least idea of praying on their account. And still we were uncertain; for when the day had completely broken, Mohamed Beg came running in, in great joy, exclaiming, "Muezzin!" muezzin!" and pointing to the top of one of the minars, which are seen on all the houses, we there saw one of these street clergymen, crying out his profession of faith with all his might.

As the day advanced, strange noises, such as we never hear in our cities, be. came audible. Among others, we distinguished a bell, whose sound, similar to that sometimes heard from the churches of the Armenians, at Julfa and Etchmiazin, made us again suppose that this might be the true mode of calling the Franks to their devotions; but it appeared to be the signal for a general cleaning of houses and house-doors. This operation was the business of women; and we imagined that it must have something to do with their religion, for they performed it as an act of penance, on their knees. And we found too, that our awn house was undergoing the same cere* The king of Persia's palace is so called.

mony; for, to our astonishment, we discovered that women, provided no doubt by the government for our use, had slept under the same roof with us, and were doing that which is the business of our jerashes, or carpet spreaders.

BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR.

DAYLIGHT of the 21st of October, 1805, displayed the signal for the enemy's fleet. Let that day never be forgotten! The almost calmness that prevailed in the morning and harbingered the battle, seemed but to render the deadly strife more conspicuous. As the British fleet was wafted by gentle winds towards their powerful enemy, the preparations for battle evinced every man to be in earnest. The cabin bulkheads on each deck were cleared away, and displayed long, level, unbroken batteries, tended by their gallant and rejoicing crews. Fire-buckets, matchtubs, shot-racks, powder-boxes, and wads, were arranged in their proper places; arm-chests lay open, and pikes, pistols, and cutlasses, gleamed in every direction. The tompions were taken out of the muz. zles, and there was a loud creaking of the gun-carriages, as the officers examined that every thing was in fighting order. All was now ready; the fleets were closing. There was a dead silence till the signal of the great patriot-" England expects every man to do his duty!"flew at the Victory's mast-head. In stantly an enthusiastic murmur of approbation spread from ship to ship, from deck to deck, from gun to gun, from man to man. A few straggling shot hissing through the air indicated the near approach of the fleets, and a loud, long. drawn fire of heavy cannon soon showed the lee divison breaking the dark concave line of the enemy. "Bravo, Collingwood!" was in every heart, and there was but one common soul in the fleet. Many a valiant heart beat high with expectation, which was doomed never to survive another day. Many an eye gazed that moment on the instruments of death, which in a few short hours were to close it for ever. The ships passed on to their stations, the battle became general, loud peals of cannon roared throughout the line, fire gleamed on the ocean, and the air was filled with the thick fumes of sulphur. The very masts shook in their sockets, the sails trembled, and the affrighted wind breathed low. The stately ships which so lately sailed gaily forth, now presented the mangled appearance of wrecks, giving evidence of the deadly strife that was at work, till ship grappled with ship, and man with man. The day

advanced, crash succeeding crash of the falling masts, till amidst the groans of the dying, and the loud huzzas, of the victors, the great struggle was decided in favour of England, and her flag waved triumphant over the deep :-but her hero had fallen. Nelson, the father of his men, the patriot of his country, was no more. Peace be to his ashes, and honour to his name! The dark clouds which had been gathering over the devoted spot during the bloody contention, now began to roll wild and portentously. The storm arose, and many a shattered and unmanage able hulk became the coffin alike of the living and the dead, and numbers of the conquerors and conquered were immersed in the same watery grave. "That joy of battle in the field of death," produced by the loud shouts of victory, still thrilled in the heart of Morland, when he was called upon to endure more mournful scenes among the mangled forms which met his view, as he descended from the blood-stained decks to the cock-pit, where amputations were still performing. The hearty greetings of messmates was followed by most painful feelings, at their first meal after the battle.

In the mess to which Morland belonged, there were three vacant places : where was poor Harry? whose cheerful mirth had been "wont to set the table in a roar." Where was Frank? and but the inquiring tongue was stopped by that solemn and heart-appealing silence, which but too well told the mournful tale. The young heroes were shrouded in the flag of their country; and when, with the rest of the fallen brave, their bodies were committed to the deep, many a tear was observed to trickle down the sunburnt furrows of the sailors' cheeks, as

the blue waves broke over the remains of

their departed shipmates.-Night Watch.

The Gatherer.

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles." SHAKSPEARE.

CATS.

IN Loudon's Magazine of Natural History, a correspondent states that white cats with blue eyes are always deaf. "This," says he, "is a very remarkable fact, and I believe not generally known." Let the tabbies look to it.

SINGING.

A MAN said he sung as well as most men in Europe, and thus proved it: most men in Europe do not sing well, therefore I sing as well as most men in Europe.

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PERSONAL VANITY. SIR ASTLEY COOPER relates in his lectures, that he was once called in a great hurry to attend one of the students of the Borough Hospitals, who had taken a large quantity of laudanum, with the intention of committing suicide. Sir Astley, after administering the usual antidotes, succeeded in restoring him to health. When, on being asked, what could possibly induce him to commit so rash an act, he replied, "that his teeth were not so white as they used to be, and he imagined that the ladies did not ad

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LITTLE do men know when they indulge one evil thought or venture on one unwarrantable action, what the issue is to be.

it is in their power to stop when they They vainly flatter themselvs that please. inanageable steed in the hands of an unBut passion, like a fiery unskilful rider, by one inconsiderate spur, may be excited to such a pitch of fury as no skill can tame, no force restrain; but both horse and rider are hurried together down the precipice, and perish in their rage DR. HUNTER.

A LETTER lately passed through the General Post-Office, under the following singular address :—

This is for that "Great guid Mon,"

Our Sovereign Lord the King,
Hie with it postman, quick begone!
And back an answer bring.

Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset House,) London; and ERNEST FLEISCHER, 626, New Market, Leipsic, and sold by all Newsmen and Booksellers.

No. 312.]

OF

LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

SATURDAY, MAY 17, 1828.

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THE BIRTHPLACE OF TASSO.

THE birthplace of "the prince of Italian poets" is situate on the promontory of Sorrento, on the winding shores of the gulf of Naples. Here, at the age of seven years, he recited verses and orations of his own composition; but our engraving represents the poet, (in more advanced life,) at his studies, whilst two girls are secretly listening to their recital, as he proceeds. The original is painted by Dejuinne, a French artist, of which an exquisite lithograph has been drawn by Aubrey Lecomte.

In person, Tasso is described by his biographers, as tall and well-proportioned, with a countenance pale through sickness and study. His forehead was square and high, his eyes of a deep blue, full, and piercing, and his countenance altogether noble and expressive. His voice was clear and solemn; and doubtless there are scores of our readers who will envy the fair listeners in the picture of the French artist, who has embodied the cha racteristics of the poet with tolerable fidelity. The figures in the picture are, it should be observed, the creative introduction of the artist, (the picture being of very recent date-1824,) but the accuracy of the villa and surrounding scenery is preserved.

Italy has been appropriately termed the Elysium of Europe, and our engraving is a pleasing vignette of what Virgil calls its "sedes beatas." The Neapolitan villas are for the most part painted in fresco, and ornamented with statues copied from the antique. They are surrounded with gardens of small extent, but carefully decorated. Large aloes planted in vases formed from blocks of lava, grow on the pedestals of the portals; and everything reminds you of the ornamental taste of the ancients.

The eruptions of Vesuvius have as yet spared the eastern side of the bay of Naples, on which Sorrento is situated, and reserved a delicious rural retreat for its inhabitants. On the same shore are the stupendous colonnades of PÆSTUM, where strangers terminate their tour.

The illustration is a fascinating scene for the lovers of fervid poetry, where everything accords with the romantic ge nius

And eagle-spirit of a child of song. whilst the broken and mouldering capitais, intermixed with the wild luxuriance of Nature, the aerial groves of vines and trellis-work above, shrubs clinging to the pillars-with the placid bay in the distance-make up a scene of extraordinary interest.

Lord Byron has deepened the melancholy fate of Tasso, in making the confinement of the poet, in the Hospital of Ferrara, by the Duke of Este, on a charge of pretended madness the subject

of a beautiful lament; and his friend and illustrator, Mr. Hobhouse, in his Notes to Childe Harold, gives the following description of Tasso's cell:

In the hospital of St. Anna, at Ferrara, they show a cell, over the door of which is the following inscription :-

Rispettate, O Posteri, in celebrità di questa stanza dove Torquato Tasso infermo piu di tristezza che delirio, ditenuto dimorò anno VII mesi II, scrisse verse e prose, e fu rimesso in libertà ad instanza della città di Bergamo, nel giorno v Luglio 1586.

floor of the hospital, and the light peneThe dungeon is below the ground trates through its grated window from a small yard, which seems to have been common to other cells. It is nine paces long, between five and six wide, and about seven feet high. The bedstead, so they tell, has been carried off piece-meal, and the door half cut away by the devo tion of those whom "the verse and prose" of the prisoner have brought to Ferrara.

Fine Arts.

MR. MARTIN S PICTURE OF THE FALL OF NINEVEH.

(Exhibiting at the Western Exchange,

Old Bond-street.)

OF Mr. Martin's well-earned fame as a painter, it is unnecessary for us here to speak; since his past efforts have proved him one of the first, if not the most ima ginative artist of his time. Indeed, the subjects which he has chosen for the dis play of his talent, would deter all but first-rate genius from an attempt at their embodiment. In this task, the painter may, perhaps, have in some instances disregarded a few of the technicalities of art; but when the vast and comprehensive character of scenes, such as Mr. Martin has embodied, and the impressive sublimity with which they act upon the most indifferent reflector,be duly considered--we must own that for such performances

Applause in spite of trivial faults is due. We do not, however, attempt to impugn Mr. Martin's perfect knowledge of the rules of art; but our object is rather to extenuate some few inaccuracies which may have been detected by the nice admirers of art, in the details of his pictures. For the most part, they represent scenes of illimitable and indefinable interest;

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