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I pity your case. O, I don't care two-pence about my case, so that my fiddle's not hurt. O, crikey, Mr. Bullock, your face looks as vacant as an empty doctor's shop. How d'ye make it out? Why, because you haven't got a viol-in. Here Bullock, here's Bill. Where? There, go it, you'll soon catch him. Go along, fiddler, con furioso. Go along, Bill, down the middle, up again; allegretto, Bullock-right and left, Bill; presto, fiddler; turn corners, Bill; hey on your own side; hey contrary side; staccato, fiddler; my wig! what a concerto. Oh crikey! carry me out, there's Bullock's head stuck fast in the mug of punch. Then you'll not get it out this evening.

Such fun, each one, &c.

HOHENLINDEN.

ON Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery!

By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh'd,
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hill with thunder riven,
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flash'd the red artillery.

But redder yet that light shall glow,
On Linden's hill of stained snow;
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn-but scarce yon level sun,
Can pierce the war-clouds' rolling dun,
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun

Shout in their sulphurous canopy.

The combat deepens-On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave;
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave,

And charge with all thy chivalry !—

Few, few shall part where many meet,-
The snow shall be their winding-sheet;
And every turf beneath their feet

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.

CAMPBELL.

RICHARD AND BETTY AT HICKLETON FAIR.

As I wur ganging last Sat'rday neet to buy half-a-pound o' bakon, who shou'd I meet but my old sweetheart, Betty Hunt, un she said, aye, Richard, be that thou,' un I said, 'ees, sure it be,' un she said, 'Richard, wudn't thee be ganging to Hickleton Vair at morrow?' and I said, 'I nowd'nt not haply I mought,' and Betty la'aught; and I said, 'I wou'd' and I did, and I went to Hickleton Vair. And so in the morning I gotten up and putten on my best shoen, cloggen shoen ware out at fashion then, and I went clink ma clank ma clank all t'way to townend, and vurst I seed were Betty standing at her Vather's door, wi' two chaps hanging on either haarm, un I felt all over in sike a conflagration, all my blood gotten into my knuckles-oh, I'd a nation good mind to gien a bat o't chops, for Betty took na notice of me; so I stared at her, but she said, 'aye, Richard, be that thou?' and I said, 'ees, sure it be;' and she said, 'Richard, would'nt the come int' house,' and I said, 'ees, I wou'd,' and I did, and I went in house; and there were a vary many people, vary many indeed, and Betty said, 'Richard, wou'dn't thee have a drap o' summat t' drink?' and I said, 'ees, I would,' and I did, and I had a drap o' summat t' drink, and I la'af'd, and wur vary merry, vary merry indeed; and Betty said, 'Richard, won'dn't thee sing us a song?' and I said, 'ees, I would,' and I did, and chaunted a steave

The clock had struck, I can't tell what,

But the morn came on as grey as a rat;

The cocks and hens from their roosts did fly,
Grunting pigs too had left their stye.

Down in a vale,

Carrying a pail,

Cicely was met by her true love Harry,

Vurst they kiss't,

Then shook fist,

And look'd like two fools just going to marry.

Aye, I remember vary weel that wur the vurst song I ever sung Betty Hunt, and she said, 'thee'd sing us another song, wouldn't thee?' and I said 'ees, I wou'd, and I did, and I sang'd another song-aye, I remember vary weel that wur the last song

I ever sung poor Betty; un at last I said, 'I must be ganging, Betty,' and she said, 'well when thee wo't, Richard, when thee wo't; and I said, 'thee'd cum and see ma sum'at way whoam,' and she said, she would, and she did, and she see'd me a bit'ut way-all the way to townend; and I said 'thee'd gi' us a buss, wou'dn't thee,' and she said, 'ees, she wou'd,' and she did, and she giv'd me a buss. Weel, Betty, thee't let me cum and see thee at morrow nee't,' and she said, 'and thee wo't, Richard:' sc I gang mysen whoam and gotten to bed, and went at morrow nee't to meet Betty-eight o'clock, and na Betty-nine o'clock, ten o'clock, and na Betty-eleven, twelve o'clock, and na Betty; so I tho't I'd gang mysen whoam; so in the morning I were told poor Betty wur vary badly, vary badly indeed, and she had sent to see ma; so I went to see poor Betty, and she said, 'Richard, if I shou'd dee, thee'd goo to my burying, wou'dn't thee?' and I said, I wou'd, and I did, and I went to her burying, for poor Betty deed; and I ne'er go to Hickleton churchyard without dropping a tear to the memory of poor Betty Hunt

THE SWEEPER AND THE THIEVES.

A SWEEPER'S lad was late o' th' neeght,
His slap shod shoon had leeam'd his feet;
He call'd to see a good awd deeame,
At mony a time had trigg'd his weame,
For he wor then fahve miles fra yam:
He ax'd i' t' lair te let him sleep,
An' he'd next day their chimlers sweep.
They supper'd him wi' country fare,
Then show'd him tul his hool i' t' lair.
He crept intul his streeahy bed,
His pooak o' seeat beneath his heead,
He wor content, nur car'd a pin,
An' his good friend then lock'd him in.
The lair frae t' hoose a distance stood-
Between 'em grew a lahtle wood;
About midneeght, or nearer moorn,

Two thieves brack in te steeal ther coorn:

Hevin a leeght i' t' lantern dark,

Seean they te winder fell te wark;

And wishing they'd a lad te fill,

Young Brush, whea yet had ligg'd quite still,
Thinkin' 'at men helang'd te t' hoose,

An' that he noo mud be o' use,
Jump'd doon directly on te' t' fleear,

An' t' thieves beeath ran out at deear;

Nur stopt at owt nur thin nur thick,
Fully convinc'd it wur awd Nick.

The sweeper lad then ran reeght seean
T' t' hoose, an' tell'd 'em what wor deean;
Maister 'an men then quickly raise,
An' ran to t' lair wi' hawf ther cleeas.
Twea horses, secks, an' leeght they fand,
Which had been left by t' thievish band:
These round t't' neybourheead they cry'd,
But nut an owner e'er apply'd,

For neean durst horses awn or secks,
They wor so freghten'd o' ther necks.
They seld the horses, and of course,
Put awf o' the brass i' Sooty's purse;
Desiring when he com that way,
He'd awlus them a visit pay;
When hearty welcum he sud have,
Because he did ther barley save.
Brush chink'd the guineas in his hand,
An' oft to leeak at 'em did stand,
As he came he wistling teeak his way,
Blessin' t' awd deeam wha let him stay
An' sleep i' t' lair, when late o' t' neeght,
His slap-shod shoon had leeam'd his feet.

HANNIBAL TO HIS SOLDIERS.

I KNOW not soldiers, whether you or your prisoners be encompassed by fortune with stricter bonds and necessities. Two seas inclose you on the right and left ;-not a ship to flee to for escaping. Before you is the Po, a river broader and more rapid than the Rhone; behind you are the Alps, over which, even when your numbers were undiminished, you were hardly able to force a passage. Here then, soldiers, you must either conquer But the same or die, the very first hour you meet the enemy. fortune which has thus laid you under the necessity of fighting, has set before your eyes those rewards of victory, than which no men are ever wont to wish for greater from the immortal gods. Should we by our valour recover only Sicily and Sardinia, which were ravished from our fathers, those would be no inconsiderable prizes. Yet what are these? The wealth of Rome, whatever riches she has heaped together in the spoils of nations, all these, with the masters of them, will be yours. You have been long enough employed in driving the cattle upon the vast mountains of Lusitania and Celtiberia; you have hitherto met with no reward worthy of the labours and dangers you have undergone.

The time is now come to reap the full recompence of your toilsome march over so many mountains and rivers, and through so many nations, all of them in arms. This is the place which fortune has appointed to be the limit of your labours; it is here that you will find your glorious warfare, and receive an ample recompence of your completed service. For I would not have you imagine, that victory will be as difficult as the name of a Roman war is great and sounding. It has often happened that a despised enemy has given a bloody battle, and the most renowned kings and nations have by a small force been overthrown. And if you but take away the glitter of the Roman name, what is there, wherein they may stand in competition with you? For (to say nothing of your service in war for twenty years together with so much valour and success) from the very pillars of Hercules, from the ocean, from the utmost bounds of the earth, through so many warlike nations of Spain and Gaul, are you not come hither victorious? And with whom are you to fight? With raw soldiers, an undisciplined army, beaten, vanquished, besieged by the Gauls the very last summer, an army unknown to their leader, and unacquainted with him.

Or shall I, who was born I might almost say, but certainly brought up, in the tent of my father, that most excellent general, shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul, and not only of the Alpine nations, but, which is greater yet, of the Alps themselves, shall I compare myself with this half-year captain? A captain before whom should one place the two armies without their ensigns, I am persuaded he would not know to which of them he is consul! I esteem it no small advantage, soldiers, that there is not one among you, who has not often been an eye-witness of my exploits in war: not one of whose valour I myself have not been a spectator, so as to be able to name the times and places of his noble achievements; that with soldiers, whom I have a thousand times praised and rewarded, and whose pupil I was before I became their general, I shall march against an army of men, strangers to one another.

On what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of courage and strength; a veteran infantry; a most gallant cavalry; you, my allies, most faithful and valiant: you, Carthagenians, whom not only your country's cause, but the justest anger impels to battle. The hope, the courage of assailants, is always greater than of those who act on the defensive. With hostile banners displayed, you are come down upon Italy; you bring the war. Grief, injuries, indignities fire your minds, and spur you forward to vengeance !-First they demanded me; that I, your general, should be delivered up to them; next, all of you, who had fought

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