the principal source of its hilarity, should accompany them next day to the literary, mercantile, and manufacturing city of Glasgow. Here the Ensign was received in the most distinguished manner, not more on account of the company in which he travelled, than of the individual fame which had already found its way before him to the capital of St Mungo. The party put up at the Buck's Head, to the excellent hostess of which (Mrs Jardine) the Ensign addressed a pathetic sonnet at parting. At the dinner given by the provost and magistrates, the Ensign attended in full puff, and was placed among the most illustrious guests, at the upper end of the table. He sung, he joked, he spoke; he was the sine quo non of the meeting. At the collation prepared for the imperial party by the professors of the university, he made himself equally agreeable; and indeed, upon both of these occasions, laid the foundations of several valuable friendships, which only terminated with his existence. Among his MSS. we have found a paper which purports to contain the words of a programma affixed to the gate of the college, on the morning preceding the visit of the Archdukes. We shall not hesitate to transcribe this fragment, although, from our ignorance of the style and ceremonial observed on similar occasions by the Scottish universities, we are not able to vouch for its authenticity. The Ensign kept his papers in much disorder-seria mixta jocis, as his Roman favourite expresses it.

Q. F. F. Q. S.

SENATUS Academicus Togatis et non Togatis Salutem dat.-Ab altissimo et potentissimo Principe Marchione de Douglas et Clydesdale, certiores facti quod eorum altitudines imperiales Archiduces Joannes et Ludovicus de Austria, hodie nos visitatione honorare intendunt, hasce regulas enunciare quomodo omnes se sunt gerere placuit nobis, et quicunque eas non volunt observare severrime puniti erunt postea.

1mo, Eorum altitudines imperiales Archiduces Joannes et Ludovicus de Austria capient frigidam collationem in aulâ priori cum principali et professoribus (cum togis suis) et quibusdam generosis hominibus ex urbe et vicinitate, et signifero Dochertiade et alia

sequela eorum circa horam meridianam, impensis Facultatis.

2. Studentes qui barbas habent tondeant et manus et facies lavent sicuti in die dominico.

3. Studentes omnes indusia nitida induant velut cum Dux Montis-Rosarum erat hic.

4. Studentes Theologici nigras braccas et vestes et pallia decentia induant quasi ministri.

5. Omnes studentes in casu sint videri per Archiduces et Marchionem et honorabiles personas qui cum iis sunt; et Hibernici et Montani supra omnia sibi oculum habeant et omnes pectantur.

6. Studentes duas lineas faciant decenter et cum quiete intra aulam priorem et aulam communem processio ambulat, et juniores ni rideant cum peregrinos vident.

cum

It is to be regretted that several leaves are a-wanting in the Ensign's diary, which probably contained an account of the rest of the tour which he performed in company with the scions of the house of Hapsburg. Their custom of smoking several pipes every evening after supper, took from him, it is not unlikely, the leisure that might have been necessary for composing a full narrative; but, however slight his precis might have been, its loss is to be regretted. The sketches of a master are of more value than the most elaborate works of secondary hands. The fragment of an Angelo surpasses the chef-d'œuvres of a West;

but, to return-at Dublin, the festivities with which the arrival of the party was celebrated, surpassed in splendour and variety, as might be expected, every thing that had been exhibited in the cities of Scotland. After spending several days in a round of gayeties, the Archdukes set sail for Liverpool. Odoherty, from the pressure of his professional engagements, found himself compelled to go no farther in the train of the princely travel

lers. The parting was one of those scenes which may be more easily imagined than described. Although the Ensign lingered a day or two in the midst of the most brilliant society of Dublin-although he spent his mornings with Phillips, and his evenings with Lady Morgan, his spirits did not soon recover their usual tone and elasticity. The state of gloom in which his mind was thus temporarily involved, extended no inconsiderable portion of its influence to his muse. We do not

wish to extend this article beyond the allowable limit; but we must make room for a single specimen of the dark effusions which at this epoch flowed from the gay, the giddy, Odoherty.

THE ENGLISH SAILOR AND THE KING OF ACHEN'S DAUGHTER.

A Tale of Terror.

COME, listen Gentles all,

And Ladies unto me,

And you shall be told of a Sailor bold
As ever sail'd on Sea.

'Twas in the month of May,
Sixteen hundred sixty and four,
We sallied out, both fresh and stout,
In the good ship Swift-sure.

With wind and weather fair

We sail'd from Plymouth Sound,

And the Line we cross'd, and the Cape we pass'd,

Being to China bound.

And we sail'd by Sunda Isles,

And Ternate and Tydore,

Till the wind it lagg'd, and our sails they flagg'd,

In sight of Achen's shore.

Becalm'd, days three times three,
We lay in th' burning sun;

Our Water we drank, and our Meat it stank,
And our Biscuits were well nigh done.

Oh! then 'twas an awful sight
Our Seamen for to behold,
Who t'other day were so fresh and gay,
And their hearts as stout as gold.

But now our hands they shook,
And our cheeks were yellow and lean-
Our faces all long, and our nerves unstrung,
And loose and squalid our skin.

And we walk'd up and down the deck As long as our legs could bear us; And we thirsted all, but no rain would fall, And no dews arise to cheer us. But the red red Sun from the sky Lent his scorching beams all day,

scars,

John Jewkes, my Sister's Son.

"Alas! John Jewkes," I cried, "Poor boy, what brings thee here ?" But nothing he said, but hung down his head, And made his bare scull appear.

Then I, by my grief grown bold, To take his hand endeavour'd, But his head he turn'd round, which a gaping wound

Had nigh from his shoulders sever'd.

He open'd his mouth to speak,

Like a man with his last breath struggling, And, before every word, in his throat was heard

A horrible misguggling.

At last, with a broken groan,

He gurgled," Approach not me!

For the Fish have my head, and the Indians my blood,

"Tis only my Ghost you see.

"And dost thou not remember,
Three years ago to-day,

married

To Farmer Robin, pray?

"Oh! then we were blythe and jolly,
But none of us all had seen,

While we sung and we laugh'd, and the stout ale quaff'd,

That our number was thirteen.

"And none of all the party,

At the head of the table, saw,

While our cares we drown'd, and the flaggon went round, Old Goody Martha Daw.

"But Martha she was there, Though she never spake a word; And by her sat her old black cat, Though it never cried or purr'd.

"And she lean'd on her oaken crutch, And a bundle of sticks she broke, And her prayers backward mutter'd, and the Devil's words utter'd, Though she never a word out spoke. " "Twas on a Thursday morn, That very day was se'nnight, I ran to sweet Sue, to bid her adieu, For I could not stay a minute.

"Then crying with words so tender, She gave me a true lover's locket, That I still might love her, forgetting her

never

So I put it in my pocket.

"And then we kiss'd and parted,
And knew not, all the while,

That Martha was nigh, on her broomstick so high,

Looking down with a devilish smile.

"So I went to sea again,

With my heart brim-full of Sue; Though my mind misgave me, the salt waters would have me,

And I'd take my last adieu.

"We made a prosperous voyage Till we came to this fatal coast, When a storm it did rise, in seas and in skies, That we gave ourselves up for lost.

"Our vessel it was stranded

All on the shoals of Achen, And all then did die, save only I, And I hardly saved my bacon.

"It happ'd that very hour, The black king walking by

Did see me sprawling, on hands and knees crawling,

And took to his palace hard by.

"And finding that I was

A likely lad for to see,

My bones well knit, and my joints well set, And not above twenty-three,

"He made me his gardener boy,

To sow pease and potatoes,

And cut his parsley and lettuce.

"Now it so fell out on a Sunday (Which these Pagans never keep holy), I was gathering rue, and thinking on Sue, With a heart full of melancholy,

"When the King of Achen's Daughter Did open her casement to see;

And, as she look'd round on the gooseberry ground,

་

Her eyes they lit upon me;

"And seeing me tall and slim, And of shape right personable; My skin so white, and so very unlike The blacks at her Father's table, "She took it into her head

(For so the Devil did move her), That I in good sooth, was a comely youth, And would make a gallant Lover.

"So she tripp'd from her chamber so high, All in silks and sattins clad,

And her gown it rustled, as down she bustled, With steps like a Princess sad.

"Her shoes they were deck'd with pearls, And her hair with diamonds glisten'd, And her gimcracks and toys, they made such a noise,

My mouth water'd the while I listen'd. "Then she tempted me with glances, And with sugar'd words so tender, (And tho' she was black, she was straight in the back,

And young, and tall, and slender-)

"But I my Love remember'd, And the lockit she did give me, And resolv'd to be true to my darling Sue, As she did ever believe me.

"Whereat the Princess wax'd Both furious and angry,

And said, she was sure I had some Paramour In kitchen or in laundry.

"And then, with a devilish grin,

"Thereon she laugh'd outright With a hellish grin, and I saw

The grissly Spectre thus
In mournful accents spoke,

There stood old Martha Daw.

And away we flew, swift as the wind.

"But my head it soon turn'd giddy, I reel'd and lost my balance,

So I tumbled over, like a perjur'd lover, A warning to all gallants.

"And there where I tumbled down

The Indians found me lying;

no warning,

But vanish'd in sulphur and smoke.

Next day there sprang up a breeze,
And our ship began to tack,

And for fear of the Ghost, we left the coast,
And sail'd for England back.

And I being come home,
Did all his words pursue;

Old Martha likewise was hung at the 'size,
And I carried the locket to Sue.

And now, being tired of life,

I make up my mind to die;

And set my flesh afrying.

"Hence, all ye English gallants,

A warning take by me,

Your true love's locket to keep in your pocket Whenever you go to sea.

"And, oh dear uncle Thomas, I come to give you warning,

As then 'twas my chance with Davy to dance, "Twill be yours to-morrow morning.

""Twas three years agone this night, Three years gone clear and clean,

For the good of Posterity.

Oh never then sit at table When the number is thirteen ; And, lest witches be there, put salt in

beer,

And scrape your platters clean.

your

This "Tale of Terror" was composed at the express request of a distinguished female, nearly related (by marriage and genius) to its no less distinguished author.-In return, this

to dance,

And our number was thirteen.

"Now I and sister Nan,

(Two of that fatal party)

Have both gone from Aunt's, with Davy to dance,

Tho' then we were hale and hearty.

"And, as we both have died,
(I speak it with grief and sorrow-)
At the end of each year, it now is clear
That you should die to-morrow.

"But if, good uncle Thomas,
You'll promise, and promise truly,
To plough the main for England again,
And perform my orders duly,

"Old Davy will allow you
Another year to live,

To visit your friends, and make up your odd ends,

And your enemies forgive.

"But friend, when you reach Old England, To Laure'ston town you'll go, And then to the Mayor, in open fair, Impeach old Martha Daw.

"And next you'll see her hang'd
With the halter around her throat;
And, when void of life, with your clasp knife
The string of her apron cut.

"Then, if that you determine
My last desires to do,

In her left hand pocket, you'll find the locket,
And carry it to Sue."

and promising boy, of whom she was delivered, during the stay of the Ensign, after the name of Odoherty; an appellation, the ideas suggested by which, will be agreeable, or otherwise, to its bearer, according as he shall, in future years, inherit or not inherit, some portion of the genius in whose honour it was originally conferred. Of the various genethliaca composed upon the occasion, the most admired was the following.