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scurity of the phraseology, but either the author, or the being he addresses. The fiends themselves found this theme “no joke.” In gratitude therefore, while Mr. Trinitarius

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in pleasing accents points the way

That leads from mental night to mental day,'

is this dread being to look on and give his assistance (perhaps to correct the proofs). Is not this blasphemy? Talk not to us of infidels and heretics "as damned as damnable," when we are treated with such insane and impious balderdash by one who discourses so copiously about his religious feelings.

After this, the author, in a tête-à-tête with himself, as amusing as instructive, puts the question, whether he ever wrote a work called "Chaos and the Creation." Perhaps he does this from the great unlikelihood of any one else ever having heard of such a work. Nevertheless in answer, he gives an agreeable synopsis of the poem in question, in order to refresh his memory and amuse his readers. We have "discord howling no more "concord breathing," "flowers springing up and round her temples wreathing." Ex his disce omnes.

and

Here follows a specimen of grammatical accuracy from a Master of Arts, of Trinity College, Cambridge; moreover a Barrister at Law, who has dedicated a brace of Poems to the Queen Dowager!!

"And have I sung that period, when there came

From out of Chaos, fair Creation's frame, &c. &c.

And not discover in the human mind

The same results of immaterial kind!!" (rather ontosophical.)

And "have I sung "" and not discover!!" Masters of Arts of Trinity College, Cambridge, what say ye to this?

Scribendi recte, sapere est principium et fons.

We cannot admire the poetical taste of the Queen Dowager, if this be her favoured poet.

"What means the strange enigma ?"

To such base uses has the noble art of printing come at last! But we will not delay the feast we have in store for our readers.

"And thou, whoever thou may'st be, whose eye

Is destin'd to peruse my poesy,

Think not the subject (!) has been merely ta'en

To give new scope to a poetic vein

To gain mere praise, or bind upon my brow
An extra laurel leaf—I WISH 'Twere So!!!

It must have been by "other stuff" than this that Trinitarius acquired his " laurel leaves," if he have any, which we presume to be the case, by his allusion to "extra" ditto. He need be under no apprehension of being rewarded with "mere praise," or

even an "extra leaf" for his Pensive Musings, which bear the closest approximation to nonsense of any "poesy," "of the heart" or otherwise, that we have met with for years. The owner of the eye, destin'd to peruse his poesy," will be apt to come to the conclusion, that the author is "rather addicted to lunacy," should he dip deeply into these very amusing" musings."

At page 27, we have an eulogium on one of the author's ancestors (from whom he descends in a straight line,) William Abington, (or Habington,)* of Hendlip, (or Endlip,) in Worcestershire.

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who won in days gone by a poet's fame,

By love inspir'd at Castara's charms.'

Of this ancestor (should we resume the subject) more anon. The conclusion of (a) musing the first consists of a lugubrious rhapsody to certain members of the author's family, with which (as we would wound the feelings of no one willingly, and moreover, as we admire and sympathize with all the beautiful emotions of the human heart, however weakly they may be expressed,) we decline to interfere.

The last few stanzas are grand and pathetic

"Man nothing can deserve; whate'er he hath
18 but a brand pluck'd from consuming wrath.”

We are not quite convinced of the truth of this position; being positively certain that Trinitarius amply deserves "scholastic castigation" for his verses, with which castigation had he been regaled before his arrival at Cambridge, his consciousness of absolute inability to write poetry might have prevented him thus exposing himself to the sneers and ridicule of the ill-natured, and the compassion of those who snarl not at, but pity human weakness-human folly.

We are afterwards told, not that dreams are fallacious, but that we "dream fallaciously." Shade of Protagoras, here is a quibble worthy of thyself! But to conclude

"Pleas'd with my task, I thus (how ?) proceed to shew,
How joy is often the effect of woe!

Such are the means that render mankind holy,
And turn to pleasure deepest melancholy!"

We are tired of our task; perhaps we may never resume it; in case we should not, let us advise in a friendly and well-meant spirit, our poetical Trinitarius, before he writes again, to study two things essential in poesy as in prose, viz. to know the distinct definition of every term he intends to make use of, and to avoid inasmuch as it may be in his power, that most unpoetical of faults,

* A cockney distinction, the H most probably having been dropped by some ancestor of our poet, born within hearing of Bow Bell.

grammatical inaccuracy. In conclusion, let us intreat him to find another rhyme for melancholy; holy is made use of sundry times in the course of the "Musings;" and, though not incorrect, it is decidedly more cacophonous than euphonous.

"Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis æquam

Viribus

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saith Horace, whose "Ars Poetica" had Trinitarius perused, we feel perfectly convinced that he never would have written "Pensive Musings on the Pleasures of Melancholy."

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By Babel's streams, amid the desert wild,
Despis'd, forlorn, roam'd Zion's outcast child;
And her's the cheek, the brow where pleasure slept,
The tear-drop fell-the suff'ring mourner wept;
The willow bent beneath its drooping head,
Where hung the harp-its bursting spirit fled:
The spoiler came to wake the note of joy,
Altho' the heart might break, the pang destroy,
They scoffing bade the list'ning valleys ring
With songs of Zion and its minstrel king.
Ne'er shall the tyrant hear the much lov'd song,
Tho' torture all my days, my hours prolong.
She cried, amid her agonizing pain,

Burst be my heart, and maddened be my brain;
Mute be my tongue, and wither'd be my arm,
If I forget Jerusalem, thy charm.

And thus the captive told her plaintive tale,
Sigh'd to the rock, and murmur'd to the gale;
Dwelt on the matchless glories once her own,
And now her land a dream—a grave her throne.

FINE ARTS.

ROYAL ACADEMY.

As we in our last number confined our remarks wholly to pictures, we shall now beg our readers to enter the Sculpture Room of " the Wilkins," where the show is as meagre as it is possible to conceive, only two out of the five sculpture members having condescended to honour the exhibition with their performances.

No. 1252. Marble bust of the Queen, executed by Her Majesty's command-H, WEEKES. We had heard previous to the opening of the exhibition great talk of the excellence of this work; our expectation consequently was at a high pitch, and we need only say, that had it been raised to treble the height it was, the work itself would have fully realised it; indeed, we look upon this as one of the most perfect of its kind. The likeness to our gracious and beautiful Sovereign is remarkably correct; the large intelligent eye, the high and expanding forehead, the rounded smiling lip, and perfect aquiline nose, (far superior in nature to the Roman or Grecian); and in short, the whole contour of the countenance, give a true idea of the illustrious person it is intended to represent. Looking at it with a professional eye, we have further cause to feel pleasure; both in the modelling and carving it is perfect; indeed, taking it as a whole, we must look upon it as a work no other artist, except Sir Francis Chantrey, could produce-we should hope it may prove the making of Mr. Weekes' fortune.

No. 1254. Marble Statue of Lilla asleep-J. WYATT. What pleasure does it give to a generous mind to speak its praise; and who could look on this work, and not feel a thrill of pleasure? it is indeed but "Nature lull'd to sleep"-one of the emanations of a noble and fertile mind, that has graced for some years past our annual exhibitions; may it continue to do so for years uncounted. No. 1255. Narcissus-J. GIBSON, R.A. A very pretty work, but we have seen many by the same artist greatly superior. No. 1256. A Nymph preparing her bow for the Chase.-W. THEED. This is another work that claims great admiration.

No. 1260. Flora-E. G. PAPWORTH. A most unhappy attempt; bespeaking none of those beauties we expect in sculpture -formal, stiff, and unnatural-without expression or thought, and badly executed.

No. 1263. Paris and Helen-W. SCOULAR. This being the only large group in the exhibition, it claims some attention of the visitor, but whether it excites admiration or not it is difficult to say; certainly there is nothing in it to displease, and it is too unpretending to please much.

No. 1264. Guardian Angels; a bas-relief in marble, part of a monument to the memory of Lady Charlotte Dennis, to be erected in the Church at Eastnor, Northamptonshire-E. H. BAILEY, R.A. Although a small work, and not much calculated to call forth the abilities of the artist, Mr. Bailey has in this, as he does in everything, shown great skill and judgment.

No. 1267. David J. BELL. This artist has this figure and "The Dreamer," 1285, both of which appear to us but imitations of his former works, and they are not of any great merit.

Nos. 1266, 1279, 1280. Statues illustrating the costume worn during the reign of the Tudors-C. SMITH. We should not have spoken of these works were they not so large, and so placed as to command attention, if not admiration; as it is, we can only say we wish the artist's talents were better employed.

THE DRAMA.

COVENT GARDEN.

At this house nothing new has been produced since our last notice. "Woman's Wit" still continues to be played every night, and we are happy to say, increases in attraction each time of representation: this is as it ought to be; such a delightful Drama should be supported by every true hearted Englishman, both with purse and applause; and we have little doubt had this play been produced earlier in the season, it would have proved an immense attraction, and run to the close of the theatre; but being brought out so late, we can only hope that the lessee of next season, whoever he may be, will again perform it in the powerful style Mr. Macready has done.

A new farce was announced some days since, but owing to the approaching close of the season, we suppose the lessee thought it advisable to withdraw it.

DRURY LANE.

The only novelty at this theatre has been the benefit of Mr. C. Kean, on which occasion he appeared for the first time in Sir Edward Mortimer in "The Iron Chest," a character to which his father was very partial, although we do not conceive it is one where his wonderful talents found their full scope; however, Charles Kean went through the part with his usual judgment, and in some scenes was particularly fine, but it is not a play in which he can display his best abilities. The house, we are happy to say, was crowded to excess in every part, and the immense applause which greeted this young actor's appearance, must have given the utmost gratification to himself and friends.

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