preserve. What could be better than his Scotchwoman? or his foreigners? or the gentleman who, " with infinite promptitude of mind, cut off the lion's head?" or the Englishman, who after contemplating Mount Vesuvius, and comparing it with its fame (and himself), exclaimed, snapping his fingers at it, "You're a humbug !" Endless are the "quips and cranks" of Wit and Humor. PUNS (Pointes ?) are banished from good company at present, though kings once encouraged and Cæsar and Bacon recorded them, and Cicero and Shakspeare seem to have thought them part of the common property of good spirits. They are tiresome when engrossing, and execrable, if bad; at least, if not very and elaborately bad, and of malice prepense. But a pun may contain wit of the first water. Those of Hood are astonishing for their cleverness, abundance, and extravagance. Ben Battle was a soldier bold, Said he, "Let others shoot; And the Forty-second Foot." And in another song, with an astounding confusion of ideas, natural in one sense, and impossible in the other ;— And then he tried to sing "All's well," But couldn't though he tried; His head was turn'd, and so he chew'd The court-fool's pun upon Archbishop Laud was a good one: Great praise to God, and little Laud to the devil. Good Macaronic verses are laughable from the combination of the familiar and unfamiliar in the mixture of the two languages, especially if one of them be Greek or Latin. It is like forcing a solemn schoolmaster to join in the antics of his boys. In Dr. King's Anglo-Greek version of the children's song, "Boys, boys, come out to play," the schoolmaster himself seems to have volunteered his services. The doctor is bantering the pedantries of his time, and gives it as a passage from a Greek author.* It is here printed in English characters, "for the benefit (as authors used to say) of the country gentlemen," but in truth, for the amusement of the numerous clever readers now-a-days, who have not happened to be taught Greek. Kummete, Mei-boies; Meiboies, kummete plaiein : (the moon is as bright as the very top o' noon-day) There is good English-Latin writing mixed with baser matter, in Ruggle's comedy of Ignoramus, which was twice played at Cambridge before James I., and made his Majesty hardly know how to endure himself for laughing. Ignoramus, who talks LawLatin and French, is a barrister answering to his name, and in love with the fair Rosabella, to whom he promises Farthingales biggos, kirtellos, et periwiggos. He complains of the heat and the press of suitors in court, and calls his clerks about him when he returns to chambers.† O valde caleor; O chaud, chaud, chaud. In nomine Dei, ubi sunt clerici mei jam? Dulman, Dulman. Dul. Hic, Magister Ignoramus, vous avez Dulman. *I learn this from "Specimens of Macaronic Poetry" (8vo., 1831), which originally appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine. As the passage is worth something for its pleasantry apart from the jargon, it is here translated, with the retention only of the French and an occasional law phrase. Igno. I'm terribly hot. O chaud, chaud, chaud. In the name of God, where have my clerks got to? Dulman, Dulman? Dulman (entering). Here am I, sir. Vous avez Dulman. Igno. Meltor, Dulman, meltor. Rubba me cum towallio, rubba. Ubi est Pecus? Pec. Hic, sir. Igno. Fac ventum, Pecus. Ita, sic, sic. Ubi est Fledwit? Dul. Non est inventus. Igno. Ponite nunc chlamydes vestras super me, ne capiam frigus. Sic, sic. Ainsi bien faict. Dul. Juro, magister, titillasti punctum legis hodie. Igno. Ha, ha, he! Puto titillabam. Si le nom del granteur ou granté soit rased ou interlined en faict pol, le faict est grandement suspicious. Dul. Et nient obstant, si faict pol, &c., &c. Oh illud etiam in Covin. Igno. Ha, ha, he! Pec. At id, de au faict pendu en le smoak, nunquam audivi titillatum melius. Igno. Ah, ha, he! Quid tu dicis, Musæe? Mus. Equidem ego parum intellexi. Igno. Tu es gallicrista, vocatus a coxcomb:-nunquam faciam te Legis tam. Dul. Nunquam, nunquam; nam ille fuit universitans. Igno. Sunt magni idiotæ, et clerici nihilorum, isti universitantes. Miror quomodo spendisti tuum tempus inter eos. Igno. I melt, Dulman, I melt. Rub me with the towel. Where's Pe cus? Pecus. (entering) Here, sir. Igno. Air, Pecus, air. So, so. Where's Fledwit? Dul. Non est inventus. Igno. Now put your cloaks over me, that I mayn't catch cold. So, so. Ainsi bien faict. Dul. Faith, sir, you tickled 'em prettily to-day with that point of law. Igno. Ha, ha, he! I think I did. Si le nom del granteur ou granté soit rased ou interlined en faict pol, le faict est grandement suspicious. Dul. Et nient obstant, si faict pol, &c., &c. Oh, and that also in Covin. Igno. Ah, ha, he! Pec. And that about the faict pendu en le smoak! I never heard anything tickled better. Igno. Ah, ha, he? What's your opinion, Musæus ? Mus. I can't say I quite understood it. Igno. You're a gallicrista, as we say; to-wit, a coxcomb. I shall never make a lawyer of you. Dul. Never, never. He was at college. Igno. They're devilish ignorant, all those college people. I wonder how you spent your time among 'em. Mus. Ut plurimum versatus sum in Logicâ. Igno. Logica? qua villa, quod burgum est Logica? Mus. Est una artium liberalium. Igno. Liberalium? Sic putabam. In nomine Dei, stude artes parcas et lucrosas non est mundus pro artibus liberalibus jam. Mus. Deditus etiam fui amori Philosophiæ. Igno. Amori? Quid! Es pro malam regulam, non es pro me. iterum. Mus. Dii faxint. bagaschiis et strumpetis? Si custodis Sursum reddam te in manus parentum Mus. In making myself a master in Logic. Igno. In Logic? Where's that? I never heard of the place. Mus. 'Tis one of the liberal arts. Igno. Oh, the liberal arts, is it? I thought so. In the name of God, study some art that will get you a livelihood. This is no world nowadays for liberal arts. Mus. I was also given to the love of Philosophy. Igno. The devil you were ! In love, too! Oh, you'll never do for me. A pretty fellow, to talk to me of his jades and baggages! If those are the sort of terms you keep, I must send you back to your parents. Mus. (aside) God grant it! Macaronic poetry (Maccaronèa) originated, like most literary novelties, in Italy; and is understood to have derived its name from the compound called Maccaroni. It is surprising, considering the multitude of scholarly wits, that more of it has not been written, and better. Drummond of Hawthornden appears to have introduced it into this island. He is the author of a Macaronic poem on a rustic fight, called Polemo-Middinia, singularly coarse for a poet so elegant, but showing a considerable feeling for humor. 66 Grinning like the devil" is "girnans more divelli ;" and of a man whose name he cannot recollect, he says, "Deil stick it, ignoro nomen." The names have a ludicrous effect. Hic aderant Geordy Akinhedius, et little Johnus, Qui jolly trippas ante alios dansare solebat, Et bobbare bene, et lassas kissare bonæas; Duncan Olyphantus, valde stalvartus, et ejus Filius eldestus jolyboyus, atque oldmoudus (old mouthed ?) Qui pleugham longo gaddo drivare solebat, Et Rob Gib wantonus homo, atque Oliver Hutchin. Among other combatants is "Jamy Tomsonus," perhaps an ancestor of the poet, and a certain “ Norland-born” man, whose opinions in church and state were the same as the author's ;— Et unus Norland-bornus homo, valde valde anti-covenanter. Drummond's is the best Macaronic we possess. The next in celebrity is one by Dr. Geddes on a political meeting at the London Tavern. It seems impossible to help being ludicrous now and then in compositions of this nature: but the Doctor is not without genuine drollery. Thick-shortus sed homo, cui nomen credo Bevellus, Iratus Adairus Surgit; et, aptato periwig, grandi ore profatur, Subsequitur plausus magnus, sed non generalis: Geddes, who was a very irritable good Christian, must have written this passage con amore. But I must hasten out of his company. Of Nonsense Verses I am acquainted with no good specimens, or indeed with any beyond a line or two, though wits disburse them occasionally. I am surprised that many have not been written, considering the opportunities they afford, not only for "acute nonsense,' ," but the safest yet most galling satire. In proportion, however, to the safety, would be the meanness; so |