neque milites alio duce plus confidere aut audere. Plurimum audaciae ad pericula capessenda, plurimum consim fii inter ipsa pericula erat. nullo labore aut corpus fatigari, aut animus vinci poterat. Caloris ac frigoris patientia par: cibi potionisque desiderio naturali, non voluptate, modus finitus: vigiliarum somnique nec die, nec nocte, discriminata tempora. Id, quod gerendis rebus superesset, quieti datum: ea neque molli strato, neque silentio, arcessita. Multi saepe, militari sagulo opertum, humi jacentem inter custodias stationesque militum conspexerunt. Vestitus nihil inter aequales excellens : arma atque equi conspiciebantur. Equitum peditumque idem longe primus erat. princeps in proelium ibat: ultimus conserto proelio excedebat. Has tantas viri vir tutes ingentia vitia aequabant; inhumana crudelitas, perfidia plus quam Punica, nihil veri, nihil sancti, nullus deûm metus, nullum jusjurandum, nulla religio. Cum hac indole virtutum atque vitiorum triennio sub Hasbrubale imperatore meruit, nulla re, quae agenda videndaque magno futuro duci esset, praetermissâ.' δρειως καὶ ἔῤῥωμένως πραχθῆναι, οὔτε οἱ στρατιώται ἑτέρῳ μᾶλλον ἡγεμονι οὐδ ̓ ἐπιθαῤῥῆσαι οὐδε τολμῆσαι· *Ην δ' αὐτῷ πλείστη μὲν πρὸς τοὺς κινδύνους τόλμη, πλείστη δὲ φρόνησις ἐν τοῖς κινδύνοις αὐτοῖς· Οὔτε τὸ σῶμα, οὔτε ἡ ψυχή οὐδένι πόνῳ οὐδ ̓ ἀποκάμνειν οὐδὲ ἡττᾶ σθαι ἠδύνατο ψύχους και θάλπους ὁμοιῶς καρτερικὸς τὸ τοῦ σίτου καὶ πότου μέρος κατὰ τὴν τῆς ψυχῆς ἐπι\ θυμίαν, οὐ καθ ̓ ἡδόνην διωρίζετο· Οἱ τῆς Φρουρᾶς καὶ τοῦ ὕπνου καίροι οὔδε ἡμέρας οὔδε νυκτὸς διεκρίνοντο· οὐδὲ χρόνος, ο, τῶν ἅ ἔδει πεπραγμένων, περίων, οὗτος ἡσυχία παρεδόθη, καὶ αὐτῇ ούτε μαλάκῳ στρώματι ούτε σιγῇ χρώμενος ἐφαίνετο· Πολλοι δ ̓ αὐτὸν πολλάκις χλαμύδι περικεκαλυμμενον τε καὶ χαμαὶ κατακέιμενον ἐν ταῖς τῶν στρατιώτων φυλακαῖς καὶ φρουρᾶις ἑώρων· Ἐσθῆτα μὲν οὐδὲν τῶν ἡλικιωτῶν διέφερεν· τὰ δ ̓ ὅπλα καὶ τοὺς ἵππους περίβλεπτος· τῶν δ ̓ ἱππέων καὶ τῶν πεζῶν πολὺ κράτιστος ἐγένετο. Πρῶτος μὲν εἰς τὴν μάχην ὁρμᾶτο· ὕστατος δε, τῆς μάχης γενομένης, ἀπεχώρει· Ταύταις ταῖς τοιαύταις ἄνδρος ἀρεταις αἱ μεγίσται κακίαι ἀντιῥοποι ἦσαν· Ωμότης ὑπερβαλλοῦσα, ἀπιστία πλέον ἢ Καρχηδονίκη, οὐδὲν ἀληθὲς, οὐδέν ὅσιον, οὐδεις τῶν θεὼν φόβος, οὐδ ̓ εὔορκος οὔποτ ̓ ἦν οὔδε εὐσεβὴς· ταύ της τῆς τῶν καλῶν καὶ τῶν κακῶν αὐτῷ Φύσεως ὑπαρχούσης, ἔτη τρία ὑπ ̓ Αστ δροῦσα ἡγεμονος ἐστρατεύετο, οὐδένος ἀμελήσας, ἃ τῷ μέλλοντι στρατήγω ἐπισήμῳ γενήσεσθαι ποιητέα τε καὶ ἐπιε σκεπτέα. HOLYROOD. IMPERIAL Holyrood ! to thy green court, Grey Towers and Galleries! hath your pictured gloom Yet here the pale, stain'd ghost of Rizzio flits, VOL. XIX. THE FIRST OF MAY. The First of May !-The First of May! Which gilds the wave, the wood, the lea, The priest who climbs high Brocken's brow, And greet, with bloody sacrifice, The first red blush of summer's skies; The heathen priest has pass'd away, But aye returns the First of May. The English youth, the English maid, And wake the echo with their song, And yet, with each returning year, Springs from the earth the scented flower, The hawthorn buds upon the spray, All, all must change-all, all must fade, All, all must change, all, all must fade, The world itself shall pass away, Nor dawn, nor set, the First of May! Fear not, my soul! though all must fade, Thou'lt live, when burst thy bonds of clay, REMARKABLE DREAM. TO THE EDITOR OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. SIR, Being in company the other day when the conversation turned upon Dreams, I related one, which as it happened to my own father, I can answer for the perfect truth of it. About the year 1731, my father, Mr D. of K—, in the County of Cumberland, came to Edinburgh to attend the classes, having the advantage of an uncle in the regiment then in the Castle, and remained under the protection of his uncle and aunt, Major and Mrs Griffiths, during the winter. When spring arrived, Mr D. and three or four young gentlemen from England, (his intimates) made parties to visit all the neighbouring places about Edinburgh, Roslin, Arthur's Seat, Craig Millar, &c. &c. Coming home one evening from some of those places, Mr D. said, "We have made a party to go a-fishing to Inch-Keith to-morrow, if the morning is fine, and have bespoke our boat; we shall be off at six. No objection being made, they separated for the night. Mrs Griffiths had not been long asleep till she screamed out in the most violent agitated manner, "The boat is sinking; save, oh save them!" The Major awaked her, and said, "Were you uneasy about the fishing party?" "Oh no," she said, "I had not once thought of it." She then composed herself, and soon fell ásleep again; in about another hour, she cried out, in a dreadful fright, "I see the boat is going down." The Major again awoke her, and she said, "It has been owing to the other dream I had; for I feel no un easiness about it." After some conversation, they both fell sound asleep, but no rest could be obtained for her; in the most extreme agony she again screamed, "They are gone, the boat is sunk!" When the Major awakened her, she said, "Now I cannot rest; Mr D. must not go, for I feel, should he go, I would be miserable till his return; the thoughts of it would almost kill me." She instantly arose, threw on her wrapping gown, went to his bed-side, for his room was next their own, and with great difficulty she got his promise to remain at home." But what am I to say to my young friends, whom I was to meet at Leith at six o'clock ?" "With great truth you may say your aunt is ill, for I am so at present; consider you are an only son, under our protection, and should anything happen to you, it would be my death.” Mr D. immediately wrote a note to his friends, saying he was prevented joining them, and sent his servant with it to Leith. The morning came in most beautifully, and continued so till three o'clock, when a violent storm arose, and in an instant the boat and all that were in it went to the bottom, and were never more heard of, nor was any part of it ever seen. I often heard the story from my father, who always added, "It has not made me superstitious, but with awful gratitude, I never can forget, my life, by Providence, was saved by M. C. a Dream.' Prince's Street, 1st May 1826. Noctes Ambrosianae. No. XXVI. ΧΡΗ ΔΕΝ ΣΥΜΠΟΣΙΩ ΚΥΛΙΚΩΝ ΠΕΡΙΝΙΣΣΟΜΕΝΑΩΝ [This is a distich by wise old Phocylides, PHOC. ap. Ath. An ancient who wrote crabbed Greek in no silly days; Meaning, ""TIS RIGHT FOR GOOD WINEBIBBING PEOPLE, "NOT TO LET THE JUG PACE ROUND THE BOARD LIKE A CRIPPLE; Blue Parlour. C. N. ap. Ambr. NORTH-TICKLER-SHEPHERD CLERK OF THE BALAAM BOX-MR AMBROSE-DEVIL-PORTERS-AND INCREMATORS. SHEPHERD. Safe us! I was never at an Incremation afore! NORTH. Mr Ambrose, bring in Balaam, and place him on the table. MR AMBROSE. May I crave the assistance of the Incremators, sir?-for he is heavier this year than I ever remember him, since that succeeding the Chaldee. SHEPHERD. Is yon him ower by in the window neuk? I'se tak haud o' ane o' the endhandles mysel. Come, you wee lazy deevil there, what for are you skartin your lug at that gate? get up and be usefu'.-Noo, Mr Ambrose, let us put a' our strength till❜t, and try to hoise him up, our twa lanes, ontil the table. TICKLER. My dear Shepherd, you ll burst a blood-vessel. Let me assist. And me too! NORTH. SHEPHERD. Dinna loot wi' that lang back o' yours, Mr Tickler. Pity me-I hear't crackin'. There, it muves! It muves!-What for are you trampin on my taes, Awmrose?-Dinna girn that way in my face, Mr Beelzebub. Faith it gars us a' fowre stoitter. (SHEPHERD, TICKLER, BEELZEBUB, and AMBROSE, succeed in placing the Balaam-box on the table.) NORTH. Thank ye, gentlemen. Here is a glass of Madeira to each of you. SHEPHERD. North, rax me ower the Stork. There-that's a hantle heartsomer than ony o' your wines, either white or black. It's just maist excellent whisky, Glenlivat or no Glenlivat. But hech, sirs, that's a sad box, that Balaam, and I'll weigh't against its ain bouk, lead only excepted, o' ony ither material noo extant, and gie a stane. NORTH. Let the Incremators take their stations. (They do so, one at each side of the chimney. The Incremators are firemen belonging to the Sun Fire Officc.) Devil! DEVIL. Here! NORTH. Clerk of the B. B. ! Please, sir, to remember the catastrophe of last year. We must take the necessary precautions. NORTH. Certainly. Mr Hogg, on opening Balaam, last year, we had neglected to put weight on the lid, and the moment the clerk had turned the key, it flew up with prodigious violence, and the jammed-down articles, as if discharged from a culverin, wafted destruction around-breaking that beautiful fiftyguinea mirror, in whose calm and lucid depths we had so often seen ourselves reflected to the very life—all but speech! SHEPHERD. I could greet to think on't. A' dung to shivers-scarcely ae bit big aneugh to shave by-but the same shinna befa' the year-for I'se sit doun upon the lid like a guardian angel, and the lid 'll hae a powerfu spring indeed, gin it whamles me ower after sic a denner. (The SHEPHERD mounts the table with youthful alacrity, and sits down on the Balaam-box.) Use both your hands, sir. NORTH. C. B. R. Beg your pardon-Mr North-there the key turns-Sit fast, Mr Hogg, SHEPHERD. Never mind me-I'm sittin as fast's a rock. (The lid, like a catapulta, dislodges the SHEPHERD, who alights on his feet a few yards from the table.) TICKLER. My dear Shepherd, why, you are a rejected contributor! SHEPHERD. Mercy on us, only see how the articles are bouncin' about the Parlour! Put your foot, Tickler, on that ane, and haud it doon, for it's made o' parchment, and has breakin my shins. Look at yon ane, the wee wizened yellow creatur, how it's loupin atower the sopha, and then rinnin alang the floor like a moose, as if it were fain to escape aneath the door!-What's the maitter, Mr North? Dear me, what's the maitter? NORTH. The matter, James? Why, that cursed communication on the Catholic Question has, I verily believe, fractured my skull. Had it hit me a little nearer the temple, I should have been a dead Editor. SHEPHERD. Wae's me! Wae's me! A fracture o' Mr North's skull. It maun indeed hae been a hard article that did that-but wha can we get to reduce it? TICKLER. Well-who could have thought they had such spunk in them? Perfect Robin Good Fellows all-hop, step, and jump was the order of the day-and a cleaner somerset never did I see than that performed a minute ago by yonder lubberly-looking article now lying on his side on the rug in the jaws of the Tiger, who in the attempt to swallow him is evidently worsted. SHEPHERD. I hae na had siccan a whomle sin I was flung out o' a gig the summer afore last-but to be sure, in this case, there were nae reins to entangle about ane's legs, and nae wheels to gang shavin' close by your lugs, wi' your head lying in a rut.-But let's rub your brows wi' vinegar, sir! NORTH. I warded off the force of the blow, James, with my crutch, else it might have been fatal. SHEPHERD. Only to think o't, Mr North! But let's see what the article is? Burnin' wull |