And wafts along its vocal waters, Mount Cenis, May 12. My date explains, I'm gaining now My wife she hails its warmth, and glows Of those bold tars who, strange to tell, Ly frozen at the Northern Pole, Till spring produced a quick re-action On each syllabic petrifaction, When three months' winter chit-chat, thawed, Tattled in dissonance abroad. How strange were spring to do the same In this severest atmosphere, And loosen every word, or name, Or oath, that has been spoken here! What chattering thaws would drown the sense! What flights of words, gay, dull, and dense, (Fine speculation for reviews) Would clack among these wintry views. Here noisy notes of admiration, Unchilled, would speak again, like ghosts Here words such as "the scene, how bold," And men (it could not make them madder) Susa, May 14. 'Tis past: Mount Cenis' steep hangs o'er me, And Italy lies stretched before me. Oh, for the sights that I shall see Within its clime of minstrelsy; Oh, for its dancing maids and loves, And satyrs piping in the groves; Oh, for its dews where beauty treads; Oh, for its gifted few with heads; Oh, for (I speak it not in fun) Its vast majority with none. Ev'n now, in thought, I view its tree-gods, Apollo, who in beauty rich is, And Saturn, guiltless of knee-breeches. Revealing to my fancy's eye, The eloquence of days gone by.- My thoughts in language bold and glowing, An intestinal emptiness Informs me that my dinner's growing As cold as he whom dread attacks In likeness of the Income Tax- LEIGH HUNT. SONNET. MARY! oh, Mary! I am nought to thee, I am as little as man's vanity Permits him in his own fond eye to be: And yet I have forsworn the glittering pelf I have abjured the golden god; but, tell me, THE SUBTLE CLUB. "Who weave fine cobwebs fit for skull That's empty when the moon's at full."-Butler, THE other evening as I passed through Rathbone-place, my attention was attracted by a wonderful statement relative to the efficacy of Goddard's Renovator of decayed Razors, I had just got to "the admirer of easy shaving will here be satisfied," when looking towards the next house, I observed a transparency in the window, which communicated the following information: "This is the Subtle Club House, N. B. Strangers cannot be admitted except on business." My curiosity was so much excited by the former part of this notice, that I forgot to pay any attention to the latter. The door was open, I entered, and without meeting with the least interruption proceeded into a large room, where a number of persons of both sexes were seated at a spacious table. Favoured by a resolute taciturnity, which has often befriended me on similar occasions, I edged my way to a chair, and though frequently submitted to inquiring glances, contrived to retain my seat without animadversion. The appearance of the fraternity was extremely odd, their phizes were not more diversified than their apparel. The gentlemen had pig-tails of every length and shape; the ladies were enclosed in hoops of appalling magnitude. A venerable antiquarian, as a substitute for a hat, wore what he called a helmet, but what I should have pronounced to be the remains of a discarded saucepan; and a wrinkled old dowager wore the soiled fragments of a cap, which, as she verily believed, had once graced the head of Queen Bess. But the commencement of business interrupted my remarks on the eccentrics that surrounded me. Sir Barnaby Flight, the president, a short thick man, ascending the official chair, commanded silence by beat of hammer, and began thus: My esteemed friends, members of the Subtle Club, I am happy again to address you. Ever anxious for the advancement of true science, the interval since our last meeting has not been idled away. You are aware that the art of flying is vastly defective: my ambition was to bring it to perfection; which, but for unavoidable accidents, I should have accomplished. I should then have appeared before you winged for some aërial expedition, and as able to sail on the swift careering clouds, as the most vivacious denizen of the fields of ether. Instead of addressing you from this stool, I should have soared "aloft on the dusky air" in your presence, and thus have given a triumphant proof of my success-had not the rascally poulterer deceived me-had not the cement been shamefully adulterated-had not the unlucky cistern prevented the regularity of descent. But I shall yet bring my labours to a happy close; and in the mean while you will receive with pleasure an account of my experiments, which indubitably prove the practicability of the scheme." Here the president was stopped by loud shouts of "Bravo, Sir Barnaby; let us hear, Baronet, let us hear." The worthy Knight bowed his thanks, and resumed. "It occurred to me after much rumination, that of all the feathered race, at least in our own country, the Lark flew highest; of Larks' feathers, therefore, I deterMAGNET, VOL. IV. PART XXII. D 66 mined to knit my plumes, and nothing seemed more proper to give them connexion, than Vancouver's celebrated iron glue. I took my measures to obtain a supply of these materials, and in a few days received two hampers purporting to be filled with genuine larks' feathers; but on unpacking them, I found a horridly ill-assorted collection of wings, the majority being the miserable spoil of crows and geese. I remonstrated, but was solemnly assured that there were black and white larks. Convinced by this assurance, I set to work, and in less than three weeks had finished a pair of wings. Often, while my heart palpitated and my breath grew thick, did I adjust them to my back, but my intended flight was retarded till last Monday: alas, I little anticipated its unfortunate termination. The clock struck eleven, when starting from my bed, I pulled off my fleecy hosiery, bound on my plumes, and prepared to out-fly the sparrows that twittered at my window. The morning was cold, and I was primitively naked, save that I had girded my loins with a linen roller; I first thought of starting from the parapet, but changed my mind, and chose the balcony of the drawing room. At this moment my courage rather flagged, but I "screwed it to the sticking place," and summoning all my fortitude, committed my hopes to the treacherous winds. Now the feathers betrayed their sophistication, and the cement its adulterated quality: I gravitated apace, and "all of a sudden, miserable pain surprised me." Nor can this be wondered at, I was chin deep in a cistern of foul water; there was a splinter in my right foot; and the point of a nail projected through my left wing. In vain I shouted for help, the female servant came, but modesty forbade a nearer approach: at last Joe the groom, and Peter the footman, relieved me from my perilous situation; and thus ended my aërial expedition. I am sure of your sympathy, and your kindness will console me for all my disappointments." The sagacious Sir Barnaby sat down amidst the loud applause of his auditors, which no sooner ceased, than an ancient looking female, limping from her seat, with a kind of Pindarick motion, exclaimed, "Though my ideas cannot boast the grandeur of our worthy president, yet they have an advantage over his, their execution is practicable. I rejoice to state that my long baffled wishes, relative to the self-acting garter, are gratified." On this she drew from her tabby skin reticule a pair of odd looking leg ligatures, which she displayed with a triumphant smile. It was instantly resolved, that a committee of ladies with two gentlemen inspectors, should retire and ascertain by trial, the efficacy of Madam Trifleton's novel invention. The portion of the Club selected, had scarcely quitted the room, when after several profound hems, a withered professor of author-slaying, holding Aristotle in one hand and Shakspeare in the other, thus communicated the result of his late cogitations. "Master President, I have been looking over the Stagirie, and find that the Swan of Avon treats him, for the most part, with great disrespect. Instead of being guided by his venerable rules, the erratic bard has presumed to think for himself, without regarding the axioms of the immortal parent of all true critics. Truly, sir, this poet of ours requires revision; he wants to be cut and fashioned into Grecian elegance:-how much handsomer he would look in an Athenian dress. Our stage is depraved, horribly depraved—the play 66 goers, simple souls, can tolerate the crowding of forty years into a brace of hours, and digest the appearance of the same person in a dozen places in one drama. Oh, for the chastened taste of the olden time! Oh, that the besom of criticism might sweep away the rubbish of the histrionic art! Then, as Aristotle most beautifully expresses it, "How many that are covered should stand bare." Oh! thou all-praised Shakspeare, were I thy editor, from how many vicious passages would I weed thee. Then thy swains and maidens should sigh methodicallythy heroes fight and give up the ghost, secundum artem. I would mingle with thy wild music the orderly strains of the Attic reed. I would make thy over masculine style softer than the billet-doux of a French beau. I would cashier thy unpolite jokes, and read thy clowns a lesson from Chesterfield. Happy would it be for the next age, should some pen, candid and erudite as my own, undertake the task; how would the bookseller's lift up their heads, should they hear of a new edition of Shakspeare, pared and whitewashed, and reformed into inoffensive simplicity." Here the second Longinus perceiving symptoms of drowsiness among his hearers, indignantly retired to his chair. Whereupon, Sir Barnaby moved, that Caleb Dullman, esq. be respectfully requested to favour the world with his text of Shakspeare, altered and amended, as he, in his great wisdom, shall think advisable; and the motion was carried unanimously. The gentleman with the helmet now rose, and with much apparent satisfaction, informed the Club that he had made a most sublime discovery. "I have rescued from oblivion," said he, a relic of that renowned captain, Caius Julius Cæsar. My barber, a man by the way, from whom I derive much valuable intelligence, called at his usual hour last Tuesday, to pare off and adjust my excrescence. 'What news' said I, friend Crop, as he stirred the lather, among the virtuosi this morning?' 'The news your honour,' replied he, 'relates nearly to myself, yet I think it of some importance: the gardener having occasion to dig up a bed of onions in my garden, struck his spade against a stone box of very ancient fabric, which (would you believe it?) on being opened, was found to contain a wig once worn by the hooknosed fellow of Rome. It is certainly genuine, for in addition to the internal evidence, the crown displayed a printed certificate of the fact -this from age is illegible, but the shape and arrangement of the curls fully prove its identity-the very smell is classic. Ah! your honour, did I but know a member of the Subtle Club, with what rapture would he purchase the hallowed relic!' Why, man, rejoined I, am not I a member of that renowned society? name your price, and let it be a bargain.' For ten guineas, Sir Barnaby, he parted with the inestimable scratch, which I here present to your worship as a memorial of my zeal for the interests of the Club." With this, Sir Peter Butterfly laid on the table the remains of what had once been a tolerably gay peruke. "As I live," exclaimed a tall youth in black, seizing the locks in question with much levity," this bundle of hair, only a fortnight since, warmed, not the head of a Julius, but the pate of your humble servant, Timothy Sangrado, apothecary and man-midwife: depend upon it the decayed caxon is of no higher antiquity than the year of grace 1824." Sir Peter was prodigiously chop-fallen at this unlucky explanation, but was soothed by the thanks and applauses of the Society. A dame who had long survived 6 |