Physicians soon arrived, sage, ware, and tried,

As e'er scrawld jargon in a darken'd room ;

With heedful glance the Sultaun's tongue they eyed, THE QUEST OF SULTĄUN SOLIMAUN. Peep'd in his bath, and God knows where beside, WRITTEN IN 1817.

And then in solemn accents spoke their doom,

« His majesty is very far from well.» O, FOR a glance of that gay Muse's eye,

Then each lo work with his specific fell: That lighten'd on Baudello's laughing tale,

The Hakim Ibrahim instanter brought And twinkled with a lustre shrewd and sly,

His unguent Mahazzim al Zerdukkaut,' | When Giam Batista bade her vision hail!!

While Roompot, a practitioner more wily, Yet fear pot, ladies, the naive detail

Relied on his Munaskif al fillfly. Given by the natives of that land canorous;

More and yet more in deep array appear,
Italian license loves to leap the pale,

And some the front assail and some the rear:
We Britons have the fear of shame before us, Their remedies to reinforce and vary,
And, if not wise in mirth, at least must be decorous.

Came surgeon eke, and eke apothecary;

Till the tired monarch, though of words grown chary, In the far eastern clime, no great while since,

Yet dropt, to recompense their fruitless labour, Lived Sullaun Solimaun, a mighty prince,

Some hint about a bowstring or a sabre. Whose eyes, as oft as they perform'd their round,

There lack'd, I promise you, no longer speeches, Beheld all others fix'd upon the ground;

To rid the palace of those learned leeches. Whose ears received the same unvaried phrase, & Sultaun! thy vassal hears, and he obeys !»—

Then was the council call'd-by their advice, All have their tastes—this may the fancy strike

(They deem'd the matter ticklish all, and nice, Of such grave folks as pomp and grandeur like;

And sought to shift it off from their own shoulders), For me, I love the honest heart and warm

Tatârs and couriers in all speed were sent, Of monarch who can amble round his farm,

To call a sort of eastern parliament Or, when the toil of state no more annoys,

Of feudatory chieftains and freeholdersIn chimney-corner seek domestic joys

Such have the Persians at this very day, I love a prince will bid the bottle pass,

My gallant Malcolm calls them couroultai ; * Exchanging with his subjects glance and glass ;

I'm not prepared to show in this slight song In fitting time, can, gayest of the gay,

That to Strendib the same forms belong, Keep up the jest and mingle in the lay

Een let the learn'd go search, and tell me if I'm wrong. Such monarchs best our free-born humours suit, But despots must be stately, stern, and mute.

The Omrahs, 3 each with hand on scymitar,

Gave, like Sempronius, still their voice for warThis Solimaun, Serendib had in sway

« The sabre of the Sultaun in its sheath And where's Serendib? may some critic say

Too long has slept, nor ownd the work of death; Good lack, mine honest friend, consult the chart,

Let the Tambourgi bid his signal rattle, Scare not my Pegasus before I start!

Bang the loud gong, and raise the shout of battle! If Rennell bas it not, you 'll find, mayhap,

This dreary cloud that dims our sovereign's day
The isle laid down in Captain Sindbad's map,– Shall from his kindled bosom flit away,
Famed mariner! whose merciless narrations

When the bold Lootie wheels his courser round,
Drove every friend and kinsman out of patience,

And the arm'd elephant shall shake the ground. Till, fain to find a guest who thought them shorter, Each noble panis to own the glorious summonsHe deigo'd to tell them over to a porter

And for the charges-Lo! your faithful Commons !» The last edition see by Long. and Co.,

The Riots who attended in their places Rees, Hurst, and Orme, our fathers in the Row.

(Serendib-language calls a farmer Riot) Serendib found, deem not my tale a fiction

Look'd ruefully in one another's faces,

From this oration auguring much disquiet, This Sultaun, whether lacking contradiction(A sort of stimulant which hath its uses,

Double assessment, forage, and free quarters : To raise the spirits and reform the juices,

Aud fearing these as China-men the Tartars, Sovereign specific for all sort of cures

Or'as the whiskerd vermin fear the mousers,
In my wife's practice, and perhaps in yours),

Each fumbled in the pocket of his trowsers.
The Sultaun Jacking this same wholesome bitter,
Or cordial smooth, for prince's palate fitter-

And next came forth the reverend Convocation,
Or if some Mollah bad liay-rid his dreams

Bald heads, white beards, and many a turban green, With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild themes

Imaum and Mollah there of every station, Belonging to the Mollah's subtle craft,

Santon, Fakir, and Calendar were seen. I wot not-but the Sultaan never laugh'd,

Their votes were various-some advised a Mosque Scarce ate or drank, and took a melancholy

With fitting revenues should be erected, That scorn'd all remedy, profane or holy;

With seemly gardens aud with gay Kiosque, In lois long list of melancholics, mad,

• To recreate a band of priests selecied; Or mazed, or dumb, hath Burton none so bad,

For these hard words see d'Ilerbelot, or the learned editor of Others opined that through the realms a dole

ibe Recipes of Avicenna. The bint of the following tale is taken from La Camiscia Ma- ! ? See Sir John Valcolm's admirable Elistory of Persia. ta, 4 lovel of Gian Battista Casti.


Be made to holy men, whose prayers might profit
The Sultaun's weal in body and in soul; .

But their long-headed chief, the Sheik Ul-Sofit,
More closely touch'd the point:–« Thy studious mood,»
Quoth he, « () prince! hath thicken'd all thy blood,
And dall'd thy braio with labour beyond measure;
Wherefore relax a space and take thy pleasure,
And toy with beauty or tell o'er thy treasure ;
From all the cares of state, my liege, enlarge thee,
And leave the burthen to thy faithful clergy.»

These counsels sage availed not a whit,

And so the patient (as is not uncommon
Where grave physicians lose their time and wit)

Resolved to take advice of an old woman;
His mother she, a dame who once was beauteous,
And still was call'd so by each subject duteous.
Now, whether Fatima was witch in earnest,

Or only made believe, I cannot say-
But she profess'd to cure disease the sternest,

By dint of magic amulet or lay;
And, when all other skill in vain was shown,
She deem'd it fitting time to use her own.

Try we the Giaours, these men of coat and cap, I
Incline to think some of them must be happy;
At least they have as fair a cause as any can,
They drink good wine, and keep no Ramazan.
Then northward, ho!» The vessel euts the sea,
And fair Italia lies upon her lce.-
But fair Italia, she who once unfurld
ller cagle banners o'er a conquer'd world,
Long from her throne of domination tumbled,
Lay, by her quondam vassals, sorely humbled;
The Pope himself look'd pensive, pale, and lean,
And was not half the man he once had been.
« While these the priest and those the noble fleeces,
Our poor old boot, they said, « is torn to pieces.
Its tops a the vengeful claws of Austria feel,
And the Great Devil is rending toe and heel.3
If happiness you seek, 10 tell you truly,
We think she dwells with one Giovanni Bulli;
A tramontane, a heretic,-thie buck,
Poffaredio! still has all the luck;
By land or ocean never strikes his flag-
And then-a perfect walking money-bag.»
Off set our prince to seek Joha Ball's abode,
But first took France-it lay upon the road.

« Sympathia magica hath wonders done,»

Monsieur Baboon, after much late commotion, (Thus did old Fatima bespeak her son),

Was agitated like a setiling ocean, « It works upon the fibres and the pores,

Quite out of sorts, and could not tell what aild him, And thus, insensibly, our health restores,

Only the glory of his house had faild him ; And it must help us here.-Thou must endure

Besides, some tumours on his noddle biding, The ill, my son, or travel for the cure,

Gave indication of a recent hiding. Search land and sea, and get, where'er you can, Our prince, though Sultaups of such things are heet The inmost vesture of a happy man,

less, I mean his shirt, my son, which, taken warm

Thought it a thing indelicate and needless And fresh from off his back, shall chase your harm, 1 To ask, if at that moment he was happy. Bid every current of your veins rejoice,

| And Monsieur, seeing that he was comme il faut, a And your dull heart leap light as shepherd-boy's.» Loud voice muster'd up, for « Vive le Roi!» Such was the counsel from his mother came.

Then whisper'd, « Ave you any news of Xappy! I know not if she had some under-game,

The Sultaun answer'd him with a cross question, As doctors have, who bid their patients roam

« Pray, can you tell me aught of one Jolin Ball, An I live abroad, when sure to die at home;

That dwells somewhere beyond your herring-pool Or if she thought, that, somehow or another, The query seemd of difficult digestion, Queen Regent sounded better than Queen Mother; The party shrugg'd, and grinn'd, and took his snuff, But, says the Chronicle (who will go look it ?)

And found his whole good breeding scarce enough. That such was her advice-the Sultaun took it.

Twitching his visage into as many puckers All are on board—the Suitaun and his train,

As damsels wont to put into their tuckers In gilded galley prompt to plough the main :

(Ere liberal Fashion damn'd both lace and lawn, The old Rais was the first who question'd, «Whi- And bade the veil of modesty be drawn). ther?

Replied the Frenchman, after a brief pause, They paused —« Arabia,» thought the pensive prince, « Jean Rool!-I vas not know him-yes, I vas« Was call'd The Happy many ages since

I vas remember dat von year or two, For Mokha, Rais.»-- And they came safely thither. I saw him at von place caild Vaterloo But not in Araby with all her balm,

Ma foi ! il s'est très-joliment battu, Nor where Judæa weeps beneath her palm,

Dat is for Englishman,--m'entendez-vous ? Not in rich Egypt, not in Nubian waste,

But den he had wit him von damn son-gun, Could there the step of Happiness be traced.

Rogue I no like--dey call him Vellington One Copt alone profess'd to have seen her smile, Monsieur's politeness could not hide his fret, When Bruce his goblet fill'd at infant Nile;

So Solimaun took leave and crossd the streight She bless'd the dauntless traveller as he quaffd, But vanish'd from him with the ended draught.

The well-known resemblance of Italy in the map.

• Florence, Venice, etc. « Enough of turbans,» said the weary king, « These dolimans of ours are not the thing;

3 The Calabrias, infested by bands of assassins. One of the

leaders was called Fra Diavolo, i. e. Brother Devil. Master of the vessel.

Or drubbing, so called in the Slang dictionary.

John Ball was in his very worst of moods,
Raving of sterile farms and unsold goods;
His sugar-loaves and bales about he threw,
And on his counter beat the devil's tattoo.
His wars were ended, and the victory won,
But then 't was reckoning-day with honest John,
And authors vouch 't was still this worthy's way,
«Never to grumble till he came to pay;
And then he always thinks, his temper's such, .
The work too little, and the pay too much. »
Yet, grumbler as he is, so kind and hearty,

That when his mortal foe was on the floor,
And past the power to harm his quiet more,
Poor Joha had well nigh wept for Bonaparte!
Such was the wight whom Solimaun salam'd, -
« And who are you,» John answer'd, « and be d-d ?»

She bade him «sit into the fire,» and took
Her dram, her cake, her kebbock from the nook ;
Ask'd him «about the news from castern parts;
And of her absent bairns, puir Highland hearts !
If peace brought down the price of tea and pepper,
And if the nitmugs were grown ony cheaper ?--
Were there nae speerings of our Mungo Park-
Ye 'll be the gentleman that wants the sark ?
If ye wad buy a web o' auld wife's spinning,
I 'll warrant ye it's a weel-wearing linen.»

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Now, for the land of verdant Erin,
The Sultaun's royal bark is steering,
The emerald Isle where honest Paddy dwells,
The cousin of John Bull, as story tells.
For a long space had John, with words of thunder,
Hard looks, and harder knocks, kept Paddy under,
Till the poor lad, like boy that 's flogg'd unduly, .
Had gotten somewhat restive and unruly.
Hard was his lot and lodging, you 'll allow,
A wigwam that would hardly serve a sow;
His landlord, and of middlemen two brace,
Had screw'd his rent up to the starving place;
His garment was a top-coat, and an old one,
His meal was a potatoe, and a cold one ;
But still for fun or frolic, and all that,
Jo the round world was not the match of Pat.

Next door to John there dwelt his sister Peg,
Once a wild lass as ever shook a leg,
When the blithe bagpipe blew-but soberer now,
She doucely span her flax and milk'd her cow.
And whereas erst she was a needy slattern,
Nor bow of wealth or cleanliness a pattern,
Yet once a-month her house was partly swept,
And once a-week a plenteous board she kept.
And whereas eke the vixen used her claws,

And teeth, of yore, on slender provocation,
She now was grown amenable to laws,

A quiet soul as any in the nation ; The sole remembrance of her warlike joys Was in old songs she sang to please her boys. John Bull, wbom, in their years of early strife, She wont to lead a cat-and-doggish life, Now found the woman, as he said, a neighbour, Who look'd to the main chance, declined no labour, Loved a long grace, and spoke a northern jargon, And was dead close in making of a bargain.

The Sultaun saw him on a holiday,
Which is with Paddy still a jolly day:
When mass is ended, and his load of sins
Confess'd, and Mother Church hath from her bions
Dealt forth a bonus of imputed merit,
Then is Pat's time for fancy, whim, and spirit!
To jest, to sing, to caper fair and free,
And dance as light as leaf upon the tree.
« By Mahomet,» said Sultaun Solimaun,
« That ragged fellow is our very man !
Rush in and seize him-do not do him hurt,
But, will he nill he, let me have his shirt.»

The Sultaun enter'd, and be made his leg,
And with decorum curtsied sister Peg;
(She loved a book, and koew a thing or two,
And guess'd at once with whom she had to do.)

Shilela their plan was well nigh after baulking
(Much less provocation will set it a-walking),
But the odds that foil'd llercules foild Paddy Whack;
They seized, and they floor'd, and they stripp'd him-

Up-bubboo! Paddy had not--a shirt to bis back !!!
And the king, disappointed, with sorrow and shame,
Went back to Serendib as sad as he came.

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As wigwam wild, that shrouds the native frore

On the bleak coast of frost-barr'd Labrador.'

Approach, and through the unlatticed window peep, i
Welcome, grave stranger, to our green retreats, Nay, shrink not back, the inmate is asleep;
Where health with exercise and freedom meets ! Sunk mid yon sordid blankets, till the sun
Thrice welcome, sage, whose philoscphic plan

Stoop to the west, the plunderer's toils are done. By Nature's limits metes the rights of man;

Loaded and primer, and prompt from desperate band, Generous as he, who now for freedom bawls,

Rifle and fowling-piece beside him stand, Now gives full value for true Indian shawls;

While round the hut are in disorder laid O'er court, o'er custom-house, his shoe who flings, The tools and booty of his lawless trade; Now bilks excisemen, and now bullies kings. . . For force or fraud, resistance or escape, | Like his, I ween, thy comprehensive mind

The crow, the saw, the bludgeon, and the crape. | Holds laws as mouse-traps baited for mankind; His pilferd powder in yon nook he hoards, Thine eye, applausive, each sly vermin sees,

And the filch'd lead the church's roof affordsThat baulks the spare, yet battens on the cheese; (Hence shall the rector's congregation fret, Thine ear has heard, with scorn instead of awe, That while his sermon 's dry, his walls are wet.) Our buckskin'd justices expound the law,

The fish-spear barbid, the sweeping nel are there, Wire-draw the acts that fix for wires the pain,

Doe-hides, and pheasant plumes, and skips of hare, And for the netted partridge noose the swain ;

Cordage for toils, and wiring for the spare. And thy vindictivcarm would faig have broke

Barter d tor game from chase or warren won, The last light fetter of the feudal yoke,

Yon cask holds moonlight," run when moon was none : To give the denizens of wood and wild,

And lale-snatch'd spoils lie stowd in hutch apart, Nature's free race, to each her frec-born child. To wait the associate higgler's evening cart. Hence hast thou mark d, with grief, fair London's race Mock'd with the boon of one poor Easter chace,

Look on his pallet foul, and mark his rest : And long‘d to send them forth as free as when What scenes perturb'd are acting in his breast! Pour'd o'er Chantilly the Parisian train,

His sable brow is wet and wrung with pain, When musket, pistol, blunderbuss combined,

And his dilated nostril toils in vain, And scarce the Geld-pieces were left behind!

For short and scant the breath each effort draws, A squadron's charge each leveret's heart dismay'd,

And 'twixt each effort Nature claims a pause. On every covey fired a bold brigade:

Beyond the loose and sable neckcloth stretch'd, La Douce Humanité approved the sport,

His sinewy throat seems by convulsion twitch, For great the alarm indeed, yet small the hurt; While the tongue falters, as to utterance loth, Shouts patriotic solemnized the day,

Sounds of dire import-watch-word, threat, and oth And Seine re-echo'd Vive la Liberté! .

Though, stupified Ly toil and drugg'd with gin, But mad Citoyen, meek Monsieur again,

The body sleep, the restless guest within
With some few added links resumes bis chain; Now plies on wood and wold his lawless trade,
Then since such scenes to France no more are known, Now in the fangs of justice wakes dismay'd.-
Come, view with me a hero of thine own!
One, whose free actions vindicate the cause

« Was that wild start of terror and despair, Of sylvan liberty o'er feudal laws.

Those bursting eye-balls, and that wilder'd air,

Signs of compunction for a murder'd hare ?
Seek we yon glades, where the proud oak o'ertops Do the locks bristle and the eye-brows arch,
Wide-waving seas of birch and hazel copse,

For grouse or partridge massacred in March?
Leaving between deserted isles of land,
Where stunted heath is patch'd with ruddy sand;

No, scoffer, no! Attend, and mark with awe, And lonely on the waste the yew is seen,

There is no wicket in the gate of law! Or straggling hollies spread a brighter green.

He, that would c'er so lightly set ajar llere, little worn, and winding dark and steep,

That awful portal must undo each bar; Our scarce-mark'd path descends yon dingle deep :

Tempting occasion, labit, passion, pride, Follow-but heedful, cautious of a trip.

Will join to storm the breach, and force the barrier wide In earthly mire philosophy may slip, Step slow and wary o'er that swampy stream,

That ruffian, wliom true men avoid and dread, Till, guided by the charcoal's smothering steam,

Whom bruisers, poachers, smugglers, call Black Sed We reach the frail yet barricaded door

Was Edward Mansell ouce;-the lightest heart, Of hovel form'd for poorest of the poor;

That ever play'd on holiday his part! No hearth the fire, no vent the smoke receives,

The leader he in every Christmas game,
The walls are wattles, and the covering leaves ;

The harvest feast grew blither when he came,
For, if such hut, our forest statutes say,
Rise in the progress of one night and day

1 Sach is the law in the New Forest, Hampshire, tesdias a (Though placed where still the Conqueror's hests o'er- to increase the varions settlements of thieves, smugglers, and

stealers, who infest it. In the forest courts the presidior awe,

i wears as a badge of office an antique stirrup, said to have And his son's stirrup shines the badge of law),

that of William Rafus. See Mr Willian Rose's spirited pace. The builder claims the unenviable boon,

titled - The Red King.. To tenant dwelling, framed as slight and soon

* A capt name for smuggled spirits.

And liveliest on the chords the bow did glance,
Wheu Edward named the tune and led the dance.
Kind was his heart, his passions quick and strong,
Hearty his laugh, and jovial was bis song;
And if he loved a gun, his father swore,
& T was but a trick of youth would soon be o'er;
Himself had done the same some thirty years before.»

But he, whose humours spurn law's awful yoke, Must herd with those by whom law's bonds are broke. The common drcad of justice soon allies The clown, who robs the warren or excise, With sterner felons train'd to act more dread, Een with the wretch by whom his fellow bled. Then, as in plagues the foul contagions pass, Leavening and festering the corrupted mass, Guilt leagues with guilt, while mutual motives draw, Their hope impunity, their fear the law; Their foes, their friends, their rendezvous the same, Till the revenue baulk d, or pilfer'd game, Flesh the young culprit, and example leads To darker villany and direr deeds.

'T is at such a ride and hour,
Wizard, witch, and fiend have power,
And ghastly forms through mist and shower,

Gleam on the gifted ken;
And then the affrighted prophet's ear
Drinks whispers strange of fate and fear,
Presaging death and ruin near

Among the sons of men :-
Apart from Albyn's war-array,
'T was then gray Allan sleepless lay;
Gray Allan, who, for many a day,

Had follow'd stout and stern,
Where through battle's rout and reel,
Storm of shot and hedge of steel,
Led the grandson of Lochiel,

Valiant Fassiefern.
Through steel and shot he leads no more,
Low-laid 'mid friends' and foemen's gore-
But long his native lake's wild shore,
And Supart rough, and high Ardpower,

And Morven long shall tell,
And proud Ben Nevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,
Brave Cameron heard the wild hurra

Of conquest as he fell.

Wild howl'd the wind the forest glades along, And oft the owl renewd her dismal song; Around the spot where erst he felt the wound, Red William's spectre walk d his midnight round. When o'er the swamp he cast his blighting look, From the green marshes of the stagnant brook The bittern's sullen shout the sedges shook ; The waning moon, with storm-presaging gleam, Now gave and sow withheld her doubtful beam; The old oak stoop'd his arms, then flung them high, Bellowing and groaning to the troubled skyTwas theo, that, couch'd amid the brushwood sere In Malwood-walk, young Mansell watch'd the deer: The fattest buck received his deadly shotThe watehful keeper heard, and sought the spot. Sioul were their hearts, and stubboro was their strife, O'erpower'd at length the outlaw drew his knife! Next mora a corpse was found upon the fellThe rest his waking agony may tell!

'Lone on the outskirts of the host,
The weary sentinel held post,
And beard, through darkness far aloof,
The frequent clang of courser's hoof,
Where beld the cloak'd patrole their course,
And spurr'd 'gainst storm the swerving horse;
But there are souods in Allan's ear,
Patrole por sentinel may hear,
And sights before his eye achast
Invisible to them have pass'd,

When down the destined plain
"Twixt Britain and the bands of France,
Wild as marsh-borne meteors glance,
Strange phantoms wheeld a revel.dance,

And doom'd the future slain.-
Such forms were seen, such sounds were heard,
When Scotland's James Juis march prepared

For Flodden's fatal plain;
Such, when he drew huis ruthless sword,
As Chusers of the Slain, adored

The yet unchristend Dane. An indistinct and phantom band, . They wheeld their ring-dance hand in hand,

With gesture wild and dread;
The seer, who watch'd them ride the storm,
Saw through their faint and shadowy form

The lightning's flash more red;
And still their ghastly roundelay
Was of the coming battle-fray,

And of the destined dead.


Night and morning were at meeting

Over Waterloo ;
Cocks bad sung their earliest greeting,

Faint and low they crew,
For no paly beam yet shone
On the heights of Mount Saint Joha;
Tempest-clouds prolong'd the sway
Of timeless darkness over day;
Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and slower,
Mark'd it a predestined hour.'
Broad and frequent through the night
Flasbid the sheets of levin-light;
Muskets, glancing lightnings back,
Show'd the dreary bivouack

Where the soldier lay, Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain, Wishing dawn of morn again,

Though death should come with day.


Wheel the wild dance,
While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

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