however, whom he chanced to meet, were much more inclined to merriment than criticism, loved a joke a great deal better than a poem, and concluding from the grotesque rusticity of his costume, the convivial ruddiness of his features, and the uncultivated shagginess of his long black hair, that he was a much fitter subject to laugh at, than to laugh with, voted him at once more likely to contribute to their amusement than do honour to their patronage. They, therefore, prepared an entertainment in a small island in the Tiber, to which Querno was invited; and while he was displaying his poetical as well as his guzzling qualities, and doing full as much justice to Liber Pater as to the Muses, they entwined a new wreath of poppies, cabbage, and laurel, and placing it solemnly upon his temples unanimously declared him "Arch-poet."

Querno, inflated by an honour so far above his most sanguine expectations, thought himself quite competent to appear before the Pope, was presented, and displayed before his Holiness his versifying talents. Leo soon perceived how great an addition the Improvisatore might prove to the hilarity of his entertainments, and, accordingly, ordered him to be regularly admitted. With

the notion of making the hope of gratifying his gluttony an incentive to his muse, he was always kept at some distance from the table, and little delicacies were occasionally sent him to provoke him to exertion. After he had devoured these with the most disgusting avidity, the Pope had him placed nearer to himself, and filling a tumbler of the choicest wine, promised it to him on the express condition, that he should immediately produce two extemporaneous verses at least, which if he failed to do, or his verses were not approved, he was condemned not only to forfeit his wine, but to swallow an equal quantity of pure water, or of wine very considerably diluted. On one of these tantalizing occasions, the disappointment seems to have produced what expectation could not, and Querno very appropriately, on receiving his penance, exclaimed:

"In cratere meo, Thetisest conjuncta Lyæo
Est dea juncta deo, sed dea major eo."

In my goblet Lyæus and Thetis combine
The Goddess of Ocean, and God of the Vine;
But as oft haps to mortals, in spite of their vows
In this union his Godship must yield to his spouse.

The usual lot of buffoons was, at length, that of poor Querno. The applause of one moment was often effaced by the insults of the next; and we are told that some pointed witticisms did, on one occasion, so irritate the feelings of his patron, as to earn for the protégé very violent marks of his displeasure. An additional mortification was provided for him in the great superiority of Marone, who was universally acknowledged to be the first Improvisatore of his time; and between the caprice of the Pontiff and the occasional outrages of his company, he retired from Court in disgust.

BAGDANOVICH.

HIPPOLITUS BAGDANOVICH has obtained the title of the Russian Anacreon, and his productions appear fairly to have merited this honourable distinction. His most celebrated performance is the "Dushenka," a lovely and graceful Poem, formed on the model of La Fontaine's

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Psyche," and so popular among his countrymen, that Karamsin enthusiastically exclaims, "Where exists the Russian who has not read Dushenka?" In selecting from the Russian Anthology the following simple and beautiful song,

we cannot refrain from expressing the pleasure which we have derived from this and other similar works of Mr. Bowring, who, to an unbounded command of the beauties of his own tongue adds the most extensive acquaintance with almost every European language, and who, in the various selections which he has given to the world, combines more than the usual fidelity of a translator, with all the graces of poetry, and with all the ease and spirit of original genius.

THE INEXPERIENCED SHEPHERDESS.

"I'M fourteen summers old, I trow,
"Tis time to look about me now :.
'Twas only yesterday, they said,

I was a silly, silly maid ;—

"Tis time to look about me now.

The shepherd-swains so rudely stare,
I must reprove them, I declare;
This talks of beauty- that of love-
I'm such a fool I can't reprove―
I must reprove them, I declare.

"Tis strange-but yet I hope no sin;
Something unwonted speaks within :

Love's language is a mystery,
And yet I feel, and yet I see,-

O what is this that speaks within ?

The shepherd cries, "I love thee, sweet;" "And I love thee," my lips repeat :

Kind words, they sound as sweet to me
As music's fairest melody;

"I love thee," oft my lips repeat.

His pledge he brings,-I'll not reprove;
O no! I'll take that pledge of love;
To thee my guardian dog I'd give,
Could I without that guardian live :

But still I'll take thy pledge of love.

My shepherd's crook I'll give to thee;

O no! my father gave it me

And treasures by a parent given,

From a fond child should ne'er be riven

On no! my father gave it me.

But thou shalt have yon lambkin fair—
Nay! 'tis my mother's fondest care;
For every day she joys to count
Each snowy lambkin on the mount;
I'll give thee then no lambkin fair.

But stay, my shepherd! wilt thou be
For ever faithful-fond to me?