frame was slender and his mind delicate, and rather inclined to melancholy. It had been hinted that he had lately met a disappointment in love, which had increased the morbid sensibility of his mind; and this, although only the conjecture of his friends, was in some degree confirmed, from the expression of his features and tones of his voice, as he recited the following effusion :

The Evening Walk. Now gently sinks the star of day, And mountain tops reflect the ray That fainter shines, and fades away,

The fond eye gazing wistfully.

How sweet the breeze, from upland ground, The varied landscape smiling round, While echo joins each warbler's sound,

In Nature's softest melody!

The streamlet, fringed with flowery sides,
O'er shining pebbles gurgling slides;
Then onward, softly murmuring, glides,
To join the rural symphony.

I hear the screaming sea-birds' wail;
At distance see the whiten'd sail
Expanded, woo the lingering gale,

That sleeps with evening silently.

On this retired, romantic hill,
The hum of men is hush'd and still,
And cares no more the bosom chill,

For all is peace and harmony.
The woodlands wave in cheerful green,
And purple twilight smiles serene,
The soul expanding, hails the scene,

Inspiring blest tranquillity.

From yonder bower, laburnum gay
And scented birch exclude the day,
While woodbine twines its slender spray,
To form the fragrant canopy.

Successive rushing o'er the mind,
The hours return long fled behind;
When Love was new, and Laura kind,
I forward look'd exultingly.

The fragrant primrose, smiling fair,
And cowslip sweet, I cull'd with care,
When Laura deign'd the gift to wear,
And blush'd, and look'd so tenderly.

Then lightly stole the flecting hour,
On broom-flower'd bank, in shady bow'r,
The enchanter, Love, with magic pow'r,
Still whisp'ring dreams of ecstacy!
Iliusive joys! but ever dear,
While Memory whispers in my ear,
How fondly once ye hover'd here!
I leave your haunts reluctantly.

But, ah! the airy vision flies!
No more I mark the azure skies,
Nor heed the flow'rs which round me rise
In beauteous chaste simplicity.

When crystal dew-drops gemm'd the vale,
Beneath yon thorn that skirts the dale,
Love often breath'd his tender tale,
"Twas whisper'd fond and faithfully.

Alas! no longer blooms that thorn,
By rude untimely tempests torn,
None seeks its shade, unless to mourn
O'er joys still dear to memory.

Now mellow'd from the vale below,
The breathing flute's soft numbers flow,
Again they wake the fervid glow,

The thrill of sensibility.

That strain, to me erewhile was dear,
And still its cadence soothes my ear,
Yet wakes a sigh, a starting tear,

While here I linger pensively.

It tells my morn of life is past,
Its noon-tide sun with clouds o'ercast,
And evening shades approaching fast,
In dim and dark solemnity.

I saw the city smoke ascend,
And curling blue, with ether blend;
So sublunary pleasures end,-

And such their instability.

E'en now, the glowing twilight fled,
O'er Nature's face thick darkness spread,
The dews of night around my head,

All teach the heart humility.

To him, who, hid from human eye,
With full heart heaves the secret sigh,
The dark brown heath and low'ring sky
Impart a sullen sympathy.

The rude rock frowning o'er the deep,
Whence oozing waters ever weep,
And waves a ceaseless murmur keep,
Inspire a pleasing melancholy.
In the dim shade of ruins gray,
Their turrets trembling in decay,
While twilight points the dubious way,
"Tis sweet to ponder silently.

When waning moonlight shadows fall
On dewy turf, or moss-clad wall,
While night-birds from their caverns call,
My bosom heaves responsively.

The mould'ring arch, in ivied gloom,
The silent choir and roofless dome,
The long grass waving o'er the tomb,

Proclaim that all is vanity!

But setting suns again shall rise, And morning's glories gild the skies, Again the weary sleeper's eyes

Shall wake to Immortality!

Although the young laird's recitation was not adapted to the taste of some present, yet the emotions which it had awaked in the feelings of others were visible in their countenances, and were, by him, considered as the most sincere marks of applause. He had written from the heart, rather than the head; and when he succeeded in exciting a gentle sigh, he esteemed it beyond the loudest plaudits of admiration. The next who was called on was a son of Esculapius, who had recently taken his degree of M. D. He was a keen, sometimes a violent politician, and a warm assertor of what he conceived the just liberties of mankind. He had stickled for leave to speak in prose; but it could not be permitted; and with the energy peculiar to his character, he poured forth the following rhapsody:

The Congress of Verona.

What, who are these, on fair Ausonia's plain,

The lords of earth, who meet in dark divan,

Sworn foes to freedom and the rights of

man,

All leagued oppressors, in one cause combin'd,

Yet trembling at the boundless march of mind;

Who seek to plunge the world in ancient night,

For sons of rapine always hate the light. With impious oaths, and epithets profane, Long since the holy junto forged the chain, And now they wish to clench the fetters fast,

brain,

To send thy troops to die in hopeless toil, Where Gallic blood, still reeking, feeds the soil!

If Time can ever teach, or Kings be wise, Think once how high,-how low the mighty lies!

And while thou seek'st to prop a despot's throne,

Look first at home, and tremble for thy own!

But who is he, that, close behind thy back,

With fluent tongue still urges the attack? "Tis he, the sceptre and the knout who

waves

See him, the foremost, in this hotbrain'd band,

Whose sceptre trembles in his palsied hand, Who long a scholar in misfortune's school, By fate and friends advanced to sovereign

rule;

With honey'd tongue and sanctimonious face,

A subtle, scheming sophist, cunning, sly, Who looks abroad with jealous, jaundiced

lasting fame ?"

The promis'd freedom, the paternal smile, A despot's juggle, and a tyrant's guile ! The patriot blood of Naples leaves a stain Indelible, to mark his coward reign *.

See, last, the laurell'd Captain of the age,

Whose name will live in history's blood

stain'd page;

He, too, his seat amidst the Congress took,
With mild demeanour and a timid look ;
Just dared to hint, with diplomatic skill,
And though a soldier, prov'd a courtier
still;

His country's cold neutrality display'd,
Nor once the foul confed'racy forbade.
Perhaps the hero felt a secret awe,
A reverence for the fulminated law,-
Thought rights of nations paltry, trivial
things,

Compar'd with pomp, and power, and crowns, and kings!

Alas, how fallen! how low my country now!

How droop the laurels on Britannia's brow!

How short the time since, war's red flag

unfurl'd,

won,

Sure he was grateful?-Scarcely home

return'd,

When Britain saw her wisest counsels spurn'd.

Ungrateful France !-Ah no! the muse is wrong;

France owes us nought, and I correct my song;

"Tis true we gave a King,-Le Desiré Yet, spite of all that priests and ultras say,

Should we of her ingratitude complain, She'd frankly send our present back again;

For there is One, not yet forgot, though dead,

Who sleeps, without a stone to mark his head,

Whose memory lives in many a Frenchman's mind,

With victories, triumphs, arms, and arts combined.

Could England wake the Giant from

his sleep,

On yon rude rock, which rises o'er the

deep,

world!

For twice ten years her sons to battle led

Her bravest sons, who fought, and toil'd, and bled;

She swept the seas; firm in the breach, by land,

The clank would echo to the monarch's

ear,

Its rattling shake his heart with withering fear;

Oh then, my country need but say, " Forbear!

secret plots!

Isles,

suade

trade;

shrine,

With fashion's trappings make the Virgin. shine;

For this were wiser, better for mankind, Than leagues profane, to crush the freeborn mind:

We laugh at fools; Lut tyrants we de

test.

Go, despots, stitch!-and leave the world at rest!

This effervescence of patriotism produced a long dispute, which the Dominie brought to a conclusion, by reminding them, that their present business was not with the opinions advanced in the verses they had just heard, but with their merits as a composition: this being denied, he maintained his argument, by the following simile: "Suppose a mechanic claimed to join the blacksmiths' corporation, and produced a gun-lock of exquisite workmanship, as a specimen of his abilities-should he be rejected, because their Deacon disapproved of shooting either man or beast?"

It being agreed that all the three should be admitted, it was next considered by what appellation they were to be distinguished. The contrast between the style and tone of the first two being so remarkable, the physician proposed, that the Dominie should be called Democritus, and the young laird Heraclitus; the Dominie, in return, addressing the M. D. by the name of Dr Tell.

I have thus stated the origin of "The Harum-Scarum Club," and described three of its members; if the specimen is reckoned worthy of a place in your Miscellany, we will all have the pleasure of perusal, as it forms part of our infant library; and I shall take an early opportunity of transmitting the productions of the other three members, and the subsequent occurrences of the evening, Meantime, I am,

Mr Editor,
Yours, very respectfully,
MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS, Sec.

Harum-Scarum Hall,

THERE is a stage of society when supernatural beings are supposed to have more intimate communication with mankind than at after and more enlightened periods. The Heathen Mythology, particularly, filled the earth with such visitants: according to it, there was much difficulty in accounting for the creation of the surrounding universe; but it seemed certain that it had been beyond the power of those who were commonly denominated Gods. These were beings whose descents were traced like those of mortals, and who, though they were of superior natures to men, yet resembled them in their intellects, in their appearances, and even in their manners, however loose and immoral these may sometimes have been.

As to the substance of which they were composed, if the expression may be used, it would have been derogatory to their dignity to have considered them material, in the ordinary sense of the term; yet, as they were supposed to have been occasionally seen and heard, it was necessary so far to embody them, as to account for these things; and accordingly, Cicero, in his treatise De Naturâ Deorum, (one of the most curious tracts of all antiquity), gravely says, that though they had not corpora, or solid bodies, yet they had quasi corpora, or bodies of an aerial and shadowy kind. The same general notion was entertained by our forefathers regarding the superior beings of their belief: and Ossian tells us, that when the heroes of other times sat on their clouds, listening to the songs of their praise," the dim stars twinkled through their form." The divinities of the ancient heathen religion were imagined to pay many visits to men, as all the poets testify. Not only were Iris and Mercury, their general mes sengers, sent constantly on errands to this lower world, but the chief Calicolae, the great inhabitants of heaven themselves, frequently visited earth, sometimes with good, and

sometimes with bad intent; and though Egeria descended from hea ven to instruct Numa in the institution of the Roman sacred rites *, Jupiter and Mercury had no such meritorious object, when they came to the house of Amphytrion, where the greatest rakes in Athens or Rome could not have shown worse conduct t.

But not only was the earth thus visited by the natives of heaven, the beings of the higher order in the universe; it had itself innumerable inhabitants of natures more than human; for while Neptune with his trident swayed the waves of the ocean, attended by his train of marine deities, Thetis, Melita, Pasithea, Nesea, Spio, Thalia, Cymodoce, &c., and all the Tritons, every river had its aged and hoary wa ter-god presiding, with innumerable Naiads, over its streams; and every grove had its Dryads, or fair Nymphs, who, though only occasionally visible to mortal eye, yet held delightful dwellings there.

In the ancient mythology, we are not aware that the earth, as in our modern systems of belief, was supposed to be troubled with the presence of any great Evil Spirit; for the demons, of whom we occasionally hear, were a few low vagabonds, scarcely worth notice. According to the conceptions of later races of men, those who had rebelled against Heaven's Sovereign, and were, as Milton says, " hurled headlong flaming from the etherial sky, down to bottomless perdition," are yet unaccountably supposed to be permitted to prowl about this lower world, incessantly working mischief. But matters were better managed among the heathens. The giants, like Satan and his compeers, had reared their daring fronts against the King of Heaven; but they were thrust down, never to rise again,

*Tit. Liv. + Amphytrion. Eneid, Lib. v. l. 825.