have dumfounded the justice; but his clerk came in to his assistance, and took them all down in black and white.

· When I had been huzzaed out of my seven senses, I made a visit to the women, who were guz zling very comfortably. Mrs. Mayoress clipped the king's English. Clack was the word.

I forgot to tell thee that every one of the posse had his hat cocked with a distich; the senators sent us down a cargo of ribbon and metre for the occasion.

• Sir Richard, to show his zeal for the protestant religion, is at the expence of a tar-barrel and a ball. I peeped into the knight's great hall, and saw a very pretty bevy of spinsters. My dear relict was amongst them, and ambled in a country dance as notably as the best of them.

May all his majesty's liege subjects love him as well as his good people of this his ancient borough! Adieu,'

N° 617. MONDAY, NOV. 8, 1714.

Torva Mimalloneis implêrunt cornua bombis,
Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo
Bassaris, et lyncem Mænas fiexura corymbis,
Evion ingeminat: reparabilis adsonat echo.

PERS. Sat. i. 99.

Their crooked horns the Mimallonian crew
With blasts inspir'd; and Bassaris, who slew
The scornful calf, with sword advanc'd on high,
Made from his neck his haughty head to fly.
And Mænas, when, with ivy-bridles bound,
She led the spotted lynx, then Evion rung around,
Evion from woods and floods repairing echo's sound,

DRYDEN.

THERE are two extremities in the style of humour, one of which consists in the use of that little pert phraseology which I took notice of in my last pa per; the other in the affectation of strained and pompous expressions, fetched from the learned languages. The first savours too much of the town; the other of the college.

As nothing illustrates better than example, I shall here present my reader with a letter of pedantic humour, which was written by a young gentle. man of the university to his friend, on the same occasion, and from the same place, as the lively epistle published in my last Spectator :

Dear CHUM*,

Ir is now the third watch of the night, the greatest part of which I have spent round a

A cant word for a chamber-companion and bedfellow at college.

capacious bowl of china, filled with the choicest products of both the Indies. I was placed at a quadrangular table, diametrically opposite to the macebearer. The visage of that venerable herald was, according to custom, most gloriously illuminated on this joyful occasion. The mayor and aldermen, those pillars of our constitution, began to totter; and if any one at the board could have so far articulated, as to have demanded intelligibly a reinforcement of liquor, the whole assembly had been by this time extended under the table.

• The celebration of this night's solemnity was opened by the obstreperous joy of drummers, who, with their parchment thunder, gave a signal for the appearance of the mob under their several classes and denominations. They were quickly joined by the melodious clank of marrowbones and cleavers, while a chorus of bells filled up the concert. A py-· ramid of stack-faggots cheered the hearts of the populace with the promise of a blaze; the guns had no sooner uttered the prologue, but the heavens were brightened with artificial meteors and stars of our own making; and all the High-street lighted up from one end to another with a galaxy of candles. We collected a largess for the multitude, who tippled eleemosynary until they grew exceedingly vociferous. There was a pasteboard pontiff, with a little swarthy demon at his elbow, who, by his diabolical whispers and insinuations, tempted his holiness into the fire, and then left him to shift for himself. The mobile were very sarcastic with their clubs, and gave old gentleman several thumps upon his triple headpiece*. Tom Tyler's phiz is some thing damaged by the fall of a rocket, which had almost spoiled the

* The pope's tiara, or triple mitre.

the

t

gnomon of his countenance. The mirth of the commons grew so very outrageous, that it found work for our friend of the quorum, who, by the help of his amanuensis, took down all their names and their crimes, with a design to produce his manuscript at the next quarter sessions, &c. &c. &c.'

I shall subjoin to the foregoing piece of a letter the following copy of verses translated from an Italian poet, who was the Cleveland of his age, and had multitudes of admirers. The subject is an accident that happened under the reign of pope Leo, when a fire-work, that had been prepared upon the castle of St. Angelo, began to play before its time, being kindled by a flash of lightning. The author has written a poem in the same kind of style as that I have already exemplified in prose. Every line in it is a riddle, and the reader must be forced to consider it twice or thrice, before he will know that the Cynic's tenement is a tub, and Bacchus's cast-coat a hogshead, &c.

'Twas night, and heaven, a Cyclops all day,
An Argus now, did countless eyes display;
In every window Rome her joy declares,
All bright and studded with terrestrial stars.
A blazing chain of lights her roofs entwines,
And round her neck the mingled lustre shines
The Cynic's rolling tenement confpires

With Bacchus his cast-coat to feed the fires.

*The following copy of verses is a trauslation from the Lain in Strada's Prolusiones Academicæ, &c. and an imitation Originally of the style and manner of Camello Querno, surnamed the Arch-poet. His character and his writings were equally singular; he was poet and buffoon to Leo X, and the common butt of that facetious pontiff and his courtiers. See Strade Prolusiones, Oxon. 1745, p. 244; and Bayle's Dictionary, art. Leo. X.

The pile, still big with undiscover'd shows, The Tuscan pile did last it freight disclose, Where the proud tops of Rome's new Ætna rise, Whence giants sally and invade the skies.

Whilst now the multitude expect the time,
And their tir'd eyes the lofty mountain climb,
A thousand iron mouths their voices try,
And thunder out a dreadful harmony;
In treble notes the small artillery plays,
The deep-mouth'd cannon bellows in the bass;
The lab'ring pile now heaves, and, having given
Proofs of its travail, sighs in flames to heaven.

'The clouds envelop'd heav'n from human sight,
Quench'd ev'ry star, and put out ev'ry light;
Now real thunder grumbles in the skies,
And in disdainful murmurs Rome defies:
Nor doth its answer'd challenge Rome decline;
But, whilst both parties in full concert join,
While heav'n and earth in rival peals resound,
The doubtful cracks the hearer's sense confound;
Whether the claps of thunderbolts they hear,
Or else the burst of cannon wounds their ear;
Whether clouds rag'd by struggling metals rent,
Or struggling clouds in Roman metals pent:
But, O my Muse, the whole adventure tell,
As ev'ry accident in order fell.

Tall groves of trees the Hadrian tower surround, Fictitious trees with paper garlands crown'd. These know no spring, but when their bodies sprout In fire, and shoot their gilded blossoms out; When blazing leaves appear above their head, And into branching flames their bodies spread. Whilst real thunder splits the firmament, And heav'n's whole roof in one vast cleft is rent, The three-fork'd tongue amidst the rupture lolls, Then drops, and on the airy turret falls. The trees now kindle, and the garland burns, And thousand thunderbolts for one returns: Brigades of burning archers upward fly,

Bright spears and shining spearmen' mount on high, Flash in the clouds, and glitter in the sky.

A seven-fold shield of spheres doth heav'n defend, And back again the blunted weapons send;