are gone quietly to sleep in the lap of oblivion.

The reader, after this detail, will, doubtless, imagine we are about to present to his notice some specimen of verses of the school in question. We are so; but we are puzzled where to make a selection. The following, however, seems more free from that peculiar slang in which it appears absolutely necessary every thing connected with pugilism should be detailed, and we do not hesitate in presenting it to our readers. We must, in justice to the author, confess, that, throughout, there is both ingenuity and harmony of versification; and sincerely do we regret that his talents were not applied to better purposes. The effusion is extracted from "Jack Randall's Scrap-Book."

"FANCY LYRICS.

By Crib, I'm sick of sickly songs,
Love I no more delight in ;

Come, Randall, leave the boxing throngs,
And sing the charm that still belongs
To sparring and to fighting.

Oh! sing those days of triumph, when
Great Johnson stood his legs on,

With Ryan fam'd, and giant Ben,
And chaunt in glowing numbers then
Of Gulley and of Gregson.

Laud high the god-like Belcher race,

Mendoza, also, stick in,

Dick Humphries,-he who fought with grace, And every mill correctly trace

Of Harry Pearce, The Chicken.

Sing Crib, who fought the giant black,
Who Champion is distinguish'd;
Then Richmond and the negro pack,
And he who, scarce a fortnight back,
The hardy Gas extinguish'd.

Come, Nonpareil, now gaily sing,
But first wet well your whistle :—
Here's health to those who grace the Ring,
Whether for them a Rose may spring,

Or Shamrock, Leek, or Thistle."

LORD BYRON'S "MAZEPPA."

THE dreadful punishment inflicted upon the hero of Lord Byron's poem, has an example in a newspaper, called "Mercurius Politicus," printed in the year 1655. dated from Hamburgh.

The narrative is

"This last week, several waggoners coming from Breslaw to Silesia, upon their way into the Duke of Saxonie's country, perceived a stag, with a man upon his back, running with all his might coming near the waggons, he suddenly fell down: the poor man, sitting on his back, made a pitiful complaint, how that he was, the day before, by the Duke of Saxonie, for killing a deer, condemned to be bound with chains upon that stag, his feet bound fast under the stag's belly with an iron chain soldered, and his hands chained to the horns. The miserable man begged earnestly that they would shoot him, to put him out of pain; but they durst not, fearing the Duke. Whilst they were talking with him, the stag got up, and ran away with all his might. The waggoners computed that he had run, in 16 hours, 25 Dutch miles in the least; which

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makes near 100 of our English miles, in a direct line. The miseries which that poor creature did and must undergo, especially if the stag killed him not in running, cannot be expressed, hardly imagined."

DRYDEN'S "MEDAL."

"It was King Charles II. who gave Dryden the hint for writing his poem, called 'The Medal.'

"One day, as the King walked in the Mall, and was talking with Dryden, he said, ‹ If I was a poet, and I think I am poor enough to be one, I would write a poem on such a subject, in the following manner;' and then gave him the plan of it. Dryden took the hint, carried the poem, as soon as it was finished, to the King, and had a present of a hundred broad pieces for it. This was said by a Priest that I often met at Mr. Pope's; and he seemed to confirm it, adding, that King Charles obliged Dryden to put his Oxford Speech into verse, and to insert it towards the close of his Absalom and Achitophel.'"

SPENCE.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

THIS amiable man, whose poetry is so justly esteemed by the public, has lately given to the world a volume both curious and talented, entitled "The Chimney-Sweeper's Friend and Climbing Boy's Album," which contains much beautiful poetry from various poets on this heart-rending subject. The profits are laudably given to "The Society for bettering the Condition of the Climbing Boys of Sheffield."

The poems of which the greater part of the book is composed (for at least one third of it is prose), are unequal. None, however, it must be confessed, make a very near approach to mediocrity. Those from the pens of Messrs. Bowring and Montgomery" stick fiery off indeed." Our space precludes the possibility of our giving both: we therefore present the reader with the one written by the Editor of this interesting volume. The being who can read it unmoved, must be heartless indeed.

The gay,

the selfish, and the proud;

I know his villainous employ

Is mockery with the thoughtless crowd.