1823.] CHRISTOPHER A CACIQUE. 291 (Sings.) O ne'er such a race was, as there in that place was And we ran, and they ran, And they ran, and we ran, But wha was't run fastest of a', man? Whether they ran, or we ran, or we wan, or they wan, Or if there was winning at a' man, There's no man can tell, save our brave general, Wha first began running of a', man; North. When I am a king, which, after all, is a sort of a thing, (to speak with civility,) that in these days of pudding and praise, nobody will call a mere impossibility-Well, when I am a King, like his Majesty Gregor, lesser or bigger, the very first thing that I will do, will be to send home a ship, inviting you, I mean James Hogg, you comical dog, to make a trip, and you also, Sir Ensign, you rip-all the way out to my realms, you shall sip, you two schlems, grog and flip; and whenever you arrive, as sure as I'm alive, I'll come down to the shore, with my princes and peers, and the cannon shall roar, and we'll give you three cheers. But as for you, Morgan, ere you're well in the bay, you will hear the church organ sounding away, and we'll lead you at once, all rigged out for the nonce, to the highest altar, to be noosed in Hymen's halter; for so great is my regard, my richest prettiest little ward, whether Duchess or Caziquess, you need look for nothing less, as sure as my name's King Christopher, it is you shall have the fist of her. But for you, Jamie Hogg, don't think to come incog-you shall have a butt of sherry, to make your heart merry-a grand golden chain, to wear over your maud-and the Lords of my train shall shout and applaud, crying Christopher floreat, et sus suus Laureate !— With Odoherty for my field-marshal, and Tickler for my premier, I think, but I may be partial, things will go on airer and jemmierand Blackwood will come out to be my bookseller, no doubt; he shall have the completest of monopolies in my metropolis, for we'll suffer nobody to squint at any thing that's in print, unless it drop from his transatlantic shop; and the Magazine will in lieu of a Queen amuse the leisure hours of me and my powers; and with all these alliances, aids and appliances, I don't think I need speak either modester or meeker, why, if Macgregor 's Cazique, I shall rank as Caziquer. Hogg. Will you be a despot, though? North. Let me see-no-no-no-too much trouble-but no sedition within the bounds of my bubble. Instant perdition shall fall on Joseph Hume, if he dares to come out Disaffection to illume, to move for any papers, or stir up any rows about tithe-pigs or sealing-wax or my magazinish spouse, whom, though she be spotless as unsunned snow, I would have you, and all the Bubblish Nation to know, I will discard whenever I please, sirs, cutting your heads off if you sneeze, sirs. Odoherty. I envy not your pomp, I envy Hogg! (Sings.) How happy a state will two poets possess, And cringe, without shame, at great Christopher's court. On a laureate like him, 'twon't be going too far, To bestow, mighty monarch, St. Christopher's Star. North. On the wings of imagination, I now overfly time and space; behold me exercising the kingly vocation among the mighty Bubblish race—in my mind's eye, here am I, this is my court, and you the potent nobles that resort to do me honneur and hommage in the hopes of fricassee and frommage, wherein if I disappoint you grande dommage:-Great Shepherd, kneel-thy shoulder-blade shall feel, ere long, the weight of my cold steel, in reward for thy song! Odoherty. Come, Hogg,-mind your eye, tip us something à là PYE.* North. I forgot to observe, that from customary modesty not to swerve, and preferring to imitate your old Bourbon or Guelf, to any Macgregor or Iturbide that may be laid ere a week's over on the shelf, I shall christen the chief of knightly orders established within my borders, by the name of a worthy that is now dead, whose good looking old-fashioned head has served me in good stead, being always displayed on my Magazines' backs, to the horror of all Whiggish clamjamphrey, Jeremy benthamites, and Cockney hacks. (Odoherty whispers for some time to Hogg, and then rising, picks out a volume of the Right Hon. the Lord Byron.) Tickler. What's all this mummery? Let your proceedings be more summary—I'm tired of such flummery. * Henry James Pye was the Poet Laureate, who immediately preceded Southey, and was born in 1745, appointed Laureate in 1790, made London police Magistrate in 1792, and died in 1813. He wrote a great many bad verses :-the best known being an epic, called "Alfred."-M. : 1823.] GEORGE BUCHANAN. Hogg (extemporizes.) 293 ON THE HEAD OF GEORGE BUCHANAN. (From the Chaldee.) HEAD OF THE SAGE! whose mug has shed Such jollity o'er quick and dead- Limbs of torn authors form its rays; Like lava, it in wrathful mood Leigh bow'd before it, looking base, Behind thee rose, behind thee grew One loves to sport the rose of red,§ Head of the Sage! thy own old bones || * A poem by the Right Hon. the Lord Byron.-C. N. The tri-color.-C. N. † Randal, a prize-fighter.-M. It is not, perhaps, generally known, that Tickler's family was originally English. It is supposed that they lived at the Southside in the days of Edward I., who was himself a Tickler.-C. N. To the disgrace of the city of Edinburgh, and indeed of all Scotland, no stone marks where the mortal remains of her greatest scholar-the wit, the poet, the historian; the son, of whom she, perhaps, has most reason to be proud, are deposited. Should not this be corrected? It certainly should.-C. N. [It has not yet been corrected.-M.] When thy bright promise fades away, And Freedom hallows with her tread Were thy bright look to fade away, cream; And soon, O, Taylor! will it be (Hogg kneels, a solemn air is heard from Odoherty's trombone, Tickler, with dignity, hands the poker to Mr. North; while it is descending slowly towards the Shepherd's shoulder, the curtain is dropt down very gradually upon the dramatis persona, who form a perfect picture.) * Sir Richard Phillips, editor of the Monthly Magazine.-M. No. VIII.-MAY, 1823. PRESENT-ETTRICK SHEPHERD, Chairman; KEMPFERHAUSEN, Croupier; TICKLER, ODOHERTY, DR. MULLION, &c. SCENE-The Chaldee Chamber-Table as it should be. TIME-Ten P. M. Kempferhausen. Ah, mein Gott! what for a barbarian! And you came to town on purpose? Hogg. Deed did I, lad. And what for no? I aye come in when there's ony thing o' the kind gaun forrit. Kempferhausen. O shocking! you really horrify me! You like to see such things? You really find a pleasure in them? Hogg. Pleasure here, pleasure there, I cannot bide away from a hangin'--I tell you plainly that I think it's worth a' the Tragedy Plays that ever were acted-I like to be garred to grue. Odoherty. And of course a female exit is the more piquant-how did the old lady go off then? Hogg. Were you no there, Ensign? Odd, I thought I heard your cough in the crowd. You were there, you deceiver-you were-you were not the length of a cart-tram ahint mysel. Kempferhausen. O, Mr. Odoherty, you too! Tickler. Pooh, pooh! Odoherty went to get materials for an article —he has promised Ebony a series of HORE PATIBULANÆ, and they will be taking papers I believe, after all. Hogg. I think I could contribute to that series mysel. Odd! I've seen a matter of fifty hangings in my time. Odoherty. Fifty! why, Hogg, you're old enough to be my grandfather-and yet I've seen three times that number myself-besides plenty of shootings, and all manner of outlandish doings-guillotine. -sword-axe Hogg. I wad gang a lang gait to see a beheading. A beheading for my siller-it's clear afore ony other way. Odoherty. Genteeler, I confess-but otherwise so so; and as for the matter of cleanliness, your cord is certainly the very jewel of them all for that. Why, Hogg, I've seen half the breadth of a street smeared |