Should you feel any touch of poetical glow, We've a Scheme to suggest-Mr. Sc-tt, you must know,

(Who, we're sorry to say it, now works for the Row,1)

Having quitted the Borders, to seek new renown,
Is coming, by long Quarto stages, to Town;
And beginning with Rokeby (the job's sure to pay)
Means to do all the Gentlemen's Seats on the way.
Now, the Scheme is (though none of our hackneys
can beat him)

To start a fresh Poet through Highgate to meet him; Who, by means of quick proofs-no revises-long coaches

May do a few Villas, before Sc-tt approaches.
Indeed, if our Pegasus be not curst shabby,
He'll reach, without found'ring, at least Woburn-
Abbey.

Such, Sir, is our plan-if you're up to the freak,
"Tis a match! and we'll put you in training next
week.

At present, no more-in reply to this Letter, a
Line will oblige very much

Though more we love thy roseate days,
When the rich rouge-pot pours its blaze
Full o'er thy face, and, amply spread,
Tips even thy whisker-tops with red-
Like the last tints of dying Day
That o'er some darkling grove delay.

Bring thy best lace, thou gay Philander
(That lace, like H-rry Al-x-nd—r,
Too precious to be wash'd,)-thy rings,
Thy seals-in short, thy prettiest things!
Put all thy wardrobe's glories on,
And yield in frogs and fringe, to none
But the great R-g-t's self alone;
Who-by particular desire-

For that night only, means to hire
A dress from Romeo C-tes, Esquire."
Hail, first of Actors! best of R-g-ts!
Born for each other's fond allegiance!
Both gay Lotharios-both good dreses-
Of serious Farce both learn'd Professors-
Both circled round, for use or show,
With cock's combs, wheresoe'er they go!

Thou know'st the time, thou man ‹ ¡ore!
It takes to chalk a ball-room floor-
Thou know'st the time, too, well-a-day!
It takes to dance that chalk away.
The Ball-room opens-far and nigh
Comets and suns beneath us lie;
O'er snow-white moons and stars we walk,
And the floor seems one sky of chalk!
But soon shall fade that bright deceit,
When many a maid, with busy feet
That sparkle in the lustre's ray,

O'er the white path shall bound and play
Like Nymphs along the Milky Way :-
With every step a star hath fled,
And suns grow dim beneath their tread!
So passeth life-(thus Sc-tt would write,
And spinsters read him with delight,)—
Hours are not feet, yet hours trip on,
Time is not chalk, yet time's soon gone!"

But, hang this long digressive flight!—
I meant to say, thou'lt see, that night,

Hearts are not flint, yet flints are rent,
Hearts are not steel, yet steel is bent.

After all, however, Mr. Sc-tt may well say to the Colonel (and, indeed, to much better wags than the Colonel,) faer

What falsehood rankles in their hearts,
Who say the Pre neglects the arts-
Neglects the arts?-no, Str-hl-g,' no;
The Cupids answer " 'tis not so;"
And every floor, that night, shall tell
How quick thou daubest, and how well.
Shine as thou may'st in French vermilion,
Thou'rt best, beneath a French cotillion;
And still com'st off, whate'er thy faults,
With flying colors in a Waltz.

Nor need'st thou mourn the transient date
To thy best works assign'd by fate.
While some chef-d'œuvres live to weary one,
Thine boast a short life and a merry one;
Their hour of glory past and gone

This festive Fête, in fact, will be
The former Fête's fac-simile;
The same long Masquerade of Rooms,
All trick'd up in such odd costumes,
(These, P-rt-r,' are thy glorious works!)
You'd swear Egyptians, Moors, and Turks,
Bearing Good-Taste some deadly malice,
Had clubb'd to raise a Pic-Nic Palace;
And each to make the olio pleasant
Had sent a State-Room as a present.
The same fauteuils and girandoles—
The same gold Asses," pretty souls!
That, in this rich and classic dome,
Appear so perfectly at home.

The same bright river 'mong the dishes,
But not-ah! not the same dear fishes-
Late hours and claret kill'd the old ones—
So 'stead of silver and of gold ones,

(It being rather hard to raise

Fish of that specie now-a-days,)

Some sprats have been by Y-rm-th's wish,
Promoted into Silver Fish,

And Gudgeons (so V-ns-tt-t told
The R-g-t) are as good as Gold!

So, prithee, come-our Fête will be But half a Fête if wanting thee.

AMONG the papers enclosed in Dr. D—g―n—n's Letter, was found an Heroic Epistle in Latin verse, from Pope Joan to her Lover, of which, as it is rather a curious document, I shall venture to give some account. This female Pontiff was a native of England, (or, according to others, of Germany,) who, at an carly age, disguised herself in male attire, and followed her lover, a ung ecclesiastic, to Athens, where she studied with such effect, that upon her arrival at Rome she was thought worthy of being raised to the Pontificate. This Epistle is addressed to her Lover (whom she had elevated to the dignity of Cardinal) soon after the fatal accouchement, by which her Fallibility was betrayed.

She begs y reminding him tenderly of the time, when they were together at Athens-when, as she ваув,

1 A foreign artist much patronized by the Prince Regent. The name of a popular country-dance. 1C-rit-n He will exhibit a complete fac-simile, în respect to interior ornament, to what it did at the last Fête. The same splendid draperies," &c. &c.-Morning Post.

Mr. Walsh Porter, to whose taste was left the furnishing of the rooms of Carlton House.

The salt-cellars on the Pr- -e's own table were in the form of an Ass with panniers.

Spanheim attributes the unanimity, with which Joan was elected, to that innate and irresistible charm by which her sex, though latent, operated upon the instinct of the Cardinals-" Non vi aliquâ, sed concorditer, omnium in se converso desiderio, quæ sunt blandientis sexus artes, laten tes in hâc quanquam !"

THE Manuscript found enclosed in the Bookseller's Letter, turns out to be a Melo-Drama, in two Acts, entitled "The Book," of which the Theatres, of course, had had the refusal, before it was presented to Messrs. L-ck-ngt-n and Co. This rejected Drama, however, possesses considerable merit, and I shall take the liberty of laying a sketch of it before my Readers.

The first Act opens in a very awful mannerTime, three o'clock in the morning-Scene, the Bourbon Chamber in C-rlt-n House-Enter the Pe R-g-t solus-After a few broken sentences, he thus exclaims:

Away-Away

Thou haunt'st my fancy so, thou devilish Book,
I meet thee-trace thee, wheresoe'er I look.
I see thy damned ink in Eld-n's brows-
I see thy foolscap on my H-rtf-d's Spouse-
V-ns-tt-t's head recalls thy leathern case,
And all thy black-leaves stare from R-d-r's face!

1 There was, in like manner, a mysterious Book, in the 16th Century, which employed all the anxious curiosity of the Learned of that time. Every one spoke of it; many wrote against it; though it does not appear that anybody had ever seen it; and Grotius is of opinion that no such Book ever existed. It was entitled "Liber de tribus impostoribus." (See Morhof, Cap. de Libris damnatis.)-Our more modern mystery of " the Book" resembles this in many particulars; and, if the number of Lawyers employed in drawing it up be stated correctly, a slight alteration of the

While turning here, (laying his hand on his heart,) I find, ah wretched elf,

Thy List of dire Errata in myself.

(Walks the stage in considerable agitation.) Oh Roman Punch! oh potent Curaçoa! Oh Mareschino! Mareschino oh! Delicious drams! why have you not the art To kill this gnawing Book-worm in my heart?

He is here interrupted in his Soliloquy by perceiving on the ground some scribbled fragments of paper, which he instantly collects, and "by the light of two magnificent candelabras" discovers the following unconnected words, "Wife neglected"-" the Book"-" Wrong Measures"-" the Queen"-" Mr Lambert"-" the R—g—t.”

Ha! treason in my house!-Curst words, that wither

My princely soul, (shaking the papers violently,) what Demon brought you hither?

He here rings all the bells, and a whole legion of valets enter. A scene of cursing and swearing (very much in the German style) ensues, in the course of which messengers are dispatched in different directions, for the L-rd Ch-nc——r, the D-e of C-b-l-d, &c. &c. The intermediate time is filled up by another Soliloquy, at the conclusion of which the aforesaid Personages rush on alarmed; the D-ke with his stays only half-laced, and the Ch-nc-ll-r with his wig thrown hastily over an old red night-cap, "to maintain the becoming splendor of his office." The R-g-t produces the appalling fragments, upon which the Ch-ne1-r breaks out into exclamations of loyalty and tenderness, and relates the following portentous dream:

"Tis scarcely two hours since

I had a fearful dream of thee, my P—————————e !— Methought I heard thee, midst a courtly crowd, | Say from thy throne of gold, in mandate loud,

title into "à tribus impostoribus" would produce a coincidence altogether very remarkable.

2 The same Chamber, doubtless, that was prepared for the reception of the Bourbons at the first Grand Fète, and which was ornamented (all "for the Deliverance of Europe") with fleurs-de-lys.

"To enable the individual, who holds the office of Chan cellor, to maintain it in becoming splendor." (A loud laugh) -Lord CASTLEREAGH's Speech upon the Vice-Chancellor's Bill.