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HOGG.

NORTH.

jewelld cup-high or low, with him we go; no affectation, no botheration, sound sense, a high feeling for honour and

arms, a heart that the black eye of a pretty girl warms, gently and gaily, but never ungentaly, a pawky glance into everything mean, yet somehow or other a loftiness of spirit that never ceases to be felt and seen; these are the qualities by which he contrives to make all the rest of your tribe look like nullities, and by which-no offence, for you must not be disappointed of your rhyme, though it comes a little disjointed-he contrives, thanks to his long nob, to draw into his own fob such a noble shower of pounds, shillings, and pence.

I wish out of his next book, for which I suppose we may soon begin to look, he would be so kind as to pay down what I owe to the Duke, and also to the crown, for rents and taxes and so forth ;-or you, why won't you do the same good turn for me, Mr North?

If I were you, Dear Jem, when money became due to them, I would instantly take my pen, and compose an ode; they would never dun you again, if your verses flowed, as I think they would, easy and good, and sweet and pleasant, as your prose does at present;—but as for me, my dear honey-as for me paying down money, for you or any other pastoral poet, I must have ye to know it, the idea's quite absurd—I won't do it, upon my word—I am not so green.- In point of fact, I have entered into a compact, (with myself I mean) to keep all my cash, making no sort of dash, buying neither pictures nor plate, nor a Poyais estate ; eating nothing better than plain veals and muttons, and drinking

nothing better than simple claret and champagne; dressing up my old coats with new collars and buttons; and, in a word, cutting all expences that are foolish and vain, and driving on with the old phạton the old horses and the old postilion ; in short, maintaining the most rigid economy, until it be universally known o' me, that I am fairly worth my cool million-When that is done, there will be something new seen under the sun ; for I'll let nobody then call me a niggard, but mount every thing in the grandest style, that was ever seen in this part of the isle, shewing off, whoever may scoff, like a second Sir Gregor Macgregor.

I suppose you speak, of his highness the Cazique : but, after all, what could he have expected, if he had but recollected, that ever since the reign of Canmore was ended, the clan of might and main from which that Potentate is descended, have condescended to patronize as their favourite air, that fine old pibroch,“ Pacckhundsailh gu bair.”

(Sings.)
O ne'er such a race was, as there in that place was,

And there ne'er such a chase was at a', man ;.
From ilk other they run, all without tuck o'drum-
Deil a body made use of a paw, man ;

And we ran, and they ran,
And they ran, and we ran,
But wha was't ran fastest of a', man?

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HOGG.

a

Whether they ran, or we ran, or we wan, or they wan,

Or if there was winning at a', man,
There's no man can tell, save our brave general,
Wha first began running of a',

man ;
And we ran, &c.

NORTH.

When I am a king, which, after all, is a sort of a thing, (to speak with civility,) that, in these days of pudding and praise, nobody will call a mere impossibility-Well, when I am a king, like his Majesty Gregor, lesser or bigger, the very first thing that I will do, will be to send home a ship, inviting you, I mean James Hogg, you comical dog, to take a trip, and you also, Sir Ensigu, you ripall the way out to my realms, you shall sip, you two schelms,

grog and flip; and whenever you arrive, as sure as I'm alive, I'll come down to the shore, with my princes and peers, and the cannon shall roar, and we'll give you three cheers. But as for you, Morgan, ere you're well in the bay, you will hear the church organ sounding away, and we'll lead you at once, all rigged out for the nonce, to the highest altar, to be noosed in Hymen's halter; for so great is my regard, my richest prettiest little ward, whether Duchess or Caziquess, you need look for nothing less, as sure as my name's King Christopher, it is you shall have the fist of her. But for you, Jamie Hogg, don't think to come incog.—you shall have a butt of sherry, to make your heart merry-a grand golden chain, to wear over your maud-and the lords of my train will shout and applaud, crying Christopher floreat, et sus suus Laureate !-With Odoherty for my Field-Marshall, and Tickler for my premier, I think, but I may be partial, things will go on airier and jemmierand Blackwood will come out to be my bookseller, no doubt; he shall have the completest of monopolies in my metropolis, for we'll suffer nobody to squint at any thing that's in print, unless it drop from his transatlantic shop; and the Magazine will in lieu of a Queen amuse the leisure hours of me and my powers; and with all these alliances, aids, and appliances, I don't think I need speak either modester or meeker, why, if Macgregor's Cazique, I shall rank as Caziquer.

Will you be a despot, though?

HOGG.

NORTH.

Let me see-No-no-no-too much trouble-but no sedition within the bounds of my bubble. Instant perdition shall fall on Joseph Hume, if he dares to come out Disaffection to illume, to move for any papers, or stir up any rows, about tithe-pigs or sealing-wax or my Magazinish spouse, whom, though she be spotless as unsunned snow, I would have you, and all the Bubblish Nation to know, I will discard whenever I please, sirs, cutting your heads off if you sneeze, sirs.

ODOHERTY.

I envy not your pomp, I envy Hogg!

(Sings.)

How happy a state will two Poets possess,

When Hogg has his wreathe, I my rich Caziquess;
On the wife and the Muse we'll depend for support,

And cringe, without shame, at great Christopher's court.
What though Hogg in a maud and grey breeches does go,
He will soon be bepowdered and strut like a beau;
On a laureate like him, 'twont be going too far,

To bestow, mighty Monarch, St Christopher's Star.

NORTH.

On the wings of imagination, I now overfly time and space; behold me exercising the kingly vocation among the mighty Bubblish race-In my mind's eye, here am I, this is my court, and you the potent nobles that resort to do me honneur and hommage in the hopes of fricassee and frommage, wherein if I disappoint you grande dommage :-Great shepherd, kneel-thy shoulder-blade shall feel, ere long, the weight of my cold steel, in reward for thy song!

ODOHERTY.

Come, Hogg,-mind your eye, tip us something à là PYE.

NORTH.

I forgot to observe, that from customary modesty not to swerve, and preferring to imitate your old Bourbon or Guelf, to any Macgregor or Iturbide that may be laid ere a week's over on the shelf, I shall christen the chief of knightly orders established within my borders, by the name of a worthy that is now dead, whose good-looking old-fashioned head has served me in good stead, being always displayed on my Magazines' backs, to the horror of all Whiggish clamjamphrey, Jeremybenthamites, and Cockney hacks.

(Odoherty whispers for some time to Hogg, and then, rising, picks out a volume of the works of the Right Hon. the Lord Byron.

TICKLER.

What's all this mummery? Let your proceedings be more summary-I'm tired of such flummery.

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Before thee rose, and with thee grew,
A rainbow of the loveliest hue,
Of three bright colours,+ each divine,
And fit for that celestial sign;
For freedom's hand had blended them
Like tints in an immortal gem.

One tint was of the sunbeam's dyes,
One, the blue depth of seraph's eyes,
One, the pure spirit's veil of white
Had robed in radiance of its light;
The three so mingled, did beseem
The texture of a heavenly dream.

Star of the brave! thy ray is pale,
And darkness must again prevail !
But, oh! thou rainbow of the free!
Our tears and blood must flow for thee.
When thy bright promise fades away,
Our life is but a load of clay.

And freedom hallows with her tread
The silent cities of the dead;
For beautiful in death are they
Who proudly fall in her array-
And soon, oh, goddess! may we be
For evermore with them or thee!

HOGG (Extemporizes)

ON THE HEAD OF GEORGE BUCHANAN. (From the Chaldee.)

HEAD OF THE SAGE! whose mug has shed

Such jollity o'er quick and dead-
O'er that bright tome presiding high,
Which MILLIONS rush each month to buy,
That meteor of immortal birth!

Read rather more than "Heaven and
Earth."*

Limbs of torn authors form its rays;
Eternity attends its praise;
The music of its partial puff
Gives fame and honour quantum suff.
And its fist darkens hostile eyes,
Like Randal hammering for a prize.

Like lava, it in wrathful mood.
Swept down Hunt's kingdoms with its
flood;

Leigh bow'd before it, looking base,
And wiped the spittle from his face;
And Hazlitt's nose burnt dim for care,
Spite of the purple dwelling there.

Behind thee rose, behind thee grew,
A rainbow of the loveliest hue,
Of three bright fellows, each divine,
And fit at Ambrose's to dine:
For HUMBUG's hand had blended then,
Much like three posies on a stem.

One loves to sport the rose of red,‡
One, the rough thistle's burly head,
One-he of Ireland's modest mien-
Is deck'd out with the shamrock green;
The three, so mingled, do beseem
The texture of a heavenly dream.

Head of the Sage! thy own old bones§
Lie snug beneath Greyfriars stones.
But, oh! thou rainbow of the three!
North-Tickler-and Odoherty!
Were thy bright look to fade away,
Our life were but a load of hay.

Scorn hallows with a hearty kick,
The dumb posteriors of Sir Dick;
And beautiful, but dead, we deem
Tom Campbell's mess of curds and cream;
And soon, O, Taylor! will it be

A match in Balaam ev'n for THEE!

(Hogg kneels, a solemn air is heard from Odoherty's trombone, Tickler, with dignity, hands the poker to Mr North; while it is descending slowly towards the Shepherd's shoulder, the curtain is dropt down very gradually upon the dramatis personæ, who form a perfect picture.)

A poem, by the Right Hon. the Lord Byron.

†The tri-colour.

It is not, perhaps, generally known, that Tickler's family was originally English. It is supposed that they lived at the Southside in the days of Edward I., who was himself a Tickler.

To the disgrace of the city of Edinburgh, and, indeed, of all Scotland, no stone marks where the mortal remains of her greatest scholar--the wit, the poet, the historian, the son, of whom she, perhaps, has most reason to be proud, are deposited. Should not this be corrected? It certainly should.

Frinted by James Pallantyne and Co. Edinburgh.

EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.

No. LXXV.

APRIL, 1823.

VOL. XIII.

Contents.

REMARKS ON MR ALISON'S THEORY OF BEAUTY, AS EXPLAINED BY MR
JEFFREY,

THE PROUD SHEPHERD'S TRAGEDY,

LETTER FROM A YARROW SHEPHERD,

NEWS FROM PADDY,

SPECIMENS OF THE ITALIAN ART OF HOAXING. No. III.

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M'QUEEN ON THE COURSE AND TERMINATION OF THE RIVER NIGER,
LETTERS FROM ITALY. No. VII.

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A PROFESSIONAL VISIT TO ALI PACHA IN THE AUTUMN OF 1809,
CALCUTTA.

Chap. VIII. The Supreme Court,

DAVIS'S CHINESE NOVELS,

THE AGE OF BRONZE,

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A Hint to the GENTLEMEN OF THE DAILY AND HEBDOMADAL PRESS, 460 PYTHAGORAS AND HIS BEANS,

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LOUIS THE EIGHTEENTH'S ACCOUNT OF HIS ESCAPE,

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LETTER TO THE EDITOR FROM THE REVEREND H. PHILLPOTTS, D. D.
INCLOSING REMARKS ON MR JEFFREY'S NOTE IN No. LXXV. OF THE

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WILLIAM BLACK WOOD, 17, PRINCE'S STREET, EDINBURGH;
AND T. CADELL, STRAND, LONDON;

To whom Communications (post paid) may be addressed.

SOLD ALSO BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS OF THE UNITED KINGDOM.

JAMES BALLANTYNE & CO. PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.

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