JERNINGHAM is about to take up the cudgels for his Mæcenas, Lord Carlisle; I hope not: he was one of the few, who, in the very short intercourse I had with him, treated me with kindness when a boy, and whatever he may say or do, « pour on, I will endure. » I have nothing further to add, save a general note of thanksgiving to readers, purchasers, and publisher, and in the words of SCOTT, I wish

<< To all and each a fair good night,

And rosy dreams and slumbers light' »

ODE.

Он, shame to thee, Land of the Gaul! Oh, shame to thy children and thee! Unwise in thy glory, and base in thy fall, How wretched thy portion shall be! Derision shall strike thee forlorn,

A mockery that never shall die;

The curses of Hate, and the hisses of Scorn
Shall burthen the winds of thy sky;

And, proud o'er thy ruin, for ever be hurl'd
The laughter of Triumph, the jeers of the World!

Oh, where is thy spirit of yore,

The spirit that breathed in thy dead,
When gallantry's star was the beacon before,
And honour the passion that led ?
Thy storms have awaken'd their sleep,
They groan from the place of their rest,
And wrathfully murmur, and sullenly weep,
To see the foul stain on thy breast;

For where is the glory they left thee in trust?
'Tis scatter'd in darkness, 'tis trampled in dust!

Go, look through the kingdoms of earth,
From Indus, all round to the Pole,

And something of goodness, of honour, and worth,
Shall brighten the sins of the soul:

But thou art alone in thy shame,

The world cannot liken thee there; Abhorrence and vice have disfigur'd thy name Beyond the low reach of compare;

Stupendous in guilt, thou shalt lend us through time A proverb, a bye-word, for treach'ry and crime!

While conquest illumin'd his sword,

While yet in his prowess he stood,

Thy praises still follow'd the steps of thy Lord,
And welcom'd the torrent of blood;

Tho' tyranny sat on his crown,

And wither'd the nations afar,

Yet bright in thy view was that Despot's renown,

Till Fortune deserted his car;

Then, back from the Chieftain thou slunkest away The foremost to insult, the first to betray!

Forgot were the feats he had done,
The toils he had borne in thy cause;
Thou turned'st to worship a new rising sun,
And waft other songs of applause ;
But the storm was beginning to lour,

Adversity clouded his beam;

And honour and faith were the brag of an hour, And loyalty's self but a dream :

To him thou hadst banish'd, tay vows were restor❜d; And the first that had scoff'd, were the first that ador'd!

What tumult thus burthens the air?

What throng thus encircles his throne?

'Tis the shout of delight, 'tis the millions that swear
His sceptre shall rule them alone.
Reverses shall brighten their zeal,
Misfortune shall hallow his name,

And the world that pursues him shall mournfully feel

How quenchless the spirit and flame

That Frenchmen will breathe, when their hearts are on fire,

For the Hero they love, and the Chief they admire!