many great boys do, with a person older than himself, which person as naturally prefers a grown-up lover. The disappointed youth consoles himself by travelling; but instead of getting drowned at the falls of Schaffhausen, as poor Lord Montague did on a similar occasion, he commences noble Author, and very prudently vents his spleen upon paper.-Spoilt by extreme petting and adulation, he quarrels with an amiable wife, and commencing gentleman at large, sets out on his travels again, takes to radicalism and low company by way of a stimulus, and ends in becoming contributor to a blasphemous magazine conducted by a knot of refugees and convicted libellers. Such is the interpretation, in plain English, of the mysterious wrongs and the high wrought feelings with which the noble Author has lost no opportunity of pestering us, (in very good verse, it is true) for this last dozen years. Such is the man more sinned against than sinning, who is so innocently astonished (see Canto 7, Stanza 3) at the illiberal interpretation put by the world upon his writings. Should our limits allow of it, we may perhaps try to account for the incredible association, (as it once appeared) of Lord Byron's name in the firm of the Liberal. At present, we must proceed, with due caution, to the examination of the choice shilling's worth of ribaldry which lies before us, and which in itself satisfactorily proves the noble Author's participation in the labours of Mr. Leigh Hunt. In Canto the 6th, the first of the present series of Don Juan, Lord Byron after indulging himself in about thirty dull twaddling stanzas, spiced with an indecency or two, and a touch of the old starling song of himself and his past pure feelings, introduces us to Juan escaped from the troublesome addresses of the lady Gulbeyaz, which had been interrupted by the arrival of the Sultan. Juan is consigned in his disguise of a female slave to the duenna superintending the seraglio, who as well as her charges, is ignorant of the real state of the case; and the good order of her department is very soon interrupted in a manner which excites the jealousy of Gulbeyaz. Accordingly the latter, who seems to possess a more extensive jurisdiction over her husband's live stock than we should suppose the case, summons the offenders before her with the intention of having them privately drowned.

"And here I leave them at their preparation

For the Imperial presence, wherein whether
Gulbeyaz shewed them both commiseration,
Or got rid of the parties altogether,
Like other angry ladies of her nation,-
Are things the turning of a hair or feather

May settle; but far be't from me to anticipate In what way feminine Caprice may dissipate." P. 36. The secret of this hiatus has just been made known to us by the public prints, which promise a review of the 9th 10th and 11th Cantos now in the press, in the Literary Examiner, published by Mr. H. L. Hunt. It is therefore for the sake of some little profit to this third Mr. Hunt, that his Lordship has revived the ruse de guerre formerly practised by the third-rate magazines, and postponed the particulars of Juan's escape to the future three cantos, with the following kind promissory hint.

"What further hath befallen or may befall
The hero of this grand poetic riddle,

I by and bye may tell you, if at all."

P. 96.

The seventh canto begins with the preparations for the memorable storm of Ismail

"By Suvaroff, or Anglicê Suwarrow,

Who lov'd blood as an alderman loves marrow,'

and may be given seriatim with less offence to decency than the last. As to the first fifty-six lines, they may be passed over, unless by those who are desirous to learn, in the Author's most cynical style, that life is not worth a potatoe, that it is difficult to say whether living or dying is the best thing, and that dogs are far our betters. After favouring us with these novel and valuable points of information, which the noble Lord very justly conceives (Stanza 7) may not excite much attention, he proceeds to enumerate the native and foreign officers engaged in the siege. The roll-call of the former is very well in its way, though inferior to Southey's well known ballad of

"Buonaparte he set out,"

from which is taken the hint of

know very
well

"The names which you all of you
Nobody can speak, and nobody can spell."

The list of the latter, and the comments thereon, smell most rancidly of Mr. Leigh Hunt, who we suspect has been allowed to perpetrate the following interpolation; and perhaps all the little Hunts may have assisted him by way of practice, if we may judge from the criticism on Shakespeare. Behold the precious morceau at length.

'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith,

Sixteen called Thomson, and nineteen named Smith.

"XIX.

"Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson ;-all the rest
Had been called Jemmy,' after the great bard;
I dont know whether they had arms or crest,
But such a godfather's as good a card.

Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best
Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward,
Was he, since so renowned " in country quarters
At Halifax;" but now he served the Tartars.

"XX.

"The rest were Jacks and Gills and Wills and Bills;
But when I've added that the elder Jack Smith
Was born in Cumberland among the hills,

And that his father was an honest blacksmith,

I've said all I know of a name that fills

Three lines of the dispatch in taking Schmacksmith,' A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein

He fell, immortal in a bulletin.

" XXI.

"I wonder (although Mars no doubt's a God I
Praise) if man's name in a bulletin

May make up for a bullet in his body?
I hope this little question is no sin,
Because, though I am but a simple noddy,

I think one Shakespeare puts the same thought in
The mouth of some one in his plays so doating,
Which many people pass for wits by quoting.

" XXII.

gay:

"Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young and
But I'm too great a patriot to record
Their Gallic names upon a glorious day;
I'd rather tell ten lies than say a word
Of truth ;-such truths are treason: they betray
Their country, and as traitors are abhorred,
Who name the French in English, save to show
How Peace should make John Bull the Frenchman's foe."

P. 43.

The appointment of Suwarrow, and the circumstances which led to it, are next given, accompanied by a very fair tirade against Potemkin and his imperial mistress, whom, as well as other conquerors by profession, Lord Byron is welcome to abuse as much as he pleases. Suwarrow's arrival, on an Ukraine hack, and with one shirt in his pocket, acts as a wonderful stimulus on the Russian army, who had begun to raise the siege, and the Turks prove

"Damnably mistaken

Who, hating hogs, yet wish'd to save their bacon.”

In the midst of Suwarrow's drilling and haranguing, a party of fugitives from the Turkish frontier are brought in by the Cossack videttes; and these prove to be Juan, his newfound friend, and fellow-captive the military philosopher, the black eunuch Baba, and two Turkish women. Who the latter may be, we are still kept in ignorance, for reasons already alluded to. Suwarrow recognizing in Juan's male companion a favourite English volunteer who had been wounded and taken by the Turks in a former affair, receives the party with marked attention in his rough manner, assigning to Baba and the women a place of safety, and to the two friends, as the most acceptable welcome which he can give them, a foremost post in the assault, which is on the point of commencing. The dialogue between the Marshal and Johnson, the English adventurer, possesses a great deal of character and terse humour in it.

« LVIII.

"Suwarrow, who was standing in his shirt
Before a company of Calmucks, drilling,
Exclaiming, fooling, swearing at the inert,
And lecturing on the noble art of killing,—
For deeming human clay but common dirt,
This great philosopher was thus instilling
His maxims, which to martial comprehension
Proved death in battle equal to a pension ;-
"LIX.

"Suwarrow, when he saw this company

Of Cossacques and their prey, turned round and cast
Upon them his slow brow and piercing eye:—

Whence come ye?'-' From Constantinople last,
Captives just now escaped,' was the reply.

'What are ye? What you see us." Briefly past

This dialogue; for he who answered knew

To whom he spoke, and made his words but few.

"LX.

"Your names?'- Mine's Johnson, and my comrade's Juan, The other two are women, and the third

Is neither man nor woman.' The chief threw on

The party a slight glance, then said: 'I have heard • Your name before, the second is a new one;

To bring the other three here was absurd;

'But let that pass;-I think I have heard your name
• In the Nikolaiew regiment?' The same.'

"LXI.

"You served at Widin?'-'Yes.'-' You led the attack?'
'I did.'-' What next?' I really hardly know.'
• You were the first i'the breach ?' I was not slack
'At least to follow those who might be so.'

• What followed ?'' A shot laid me on my back,
' And I became a prisoner to the foe.'-

'You shall have vengeance, for the town surrounded
'Is twice as strong as that where you were wounded.
" LXII.

"Where will you serve?'Where'er you please.'-' I know
'You like to be the hope of the forlorn,
And doubtless would be foremost on the foe
'After the hardships you've already borne.
And this young fellow? say what can he do,

He with the beardless chin and garments torn?'

Why, General, if he hath no greater fault

'In war than love, he had better lead the assault." P.53.

As it is not our wish to garble or misrepresent the parts of the present work which really possess merit, we shall add the two thrilling stanzas with which the 7th Canto closes, extracted from some very dull trifling which immediately precedes them.

"LXXXVI.

"Hark! through the silence of the cold, dull night,
The hum of armies gathering rank on rank!

Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight

Along the leaguered wall and bristling bank

Of the armed river, while with straggling light

The stars peep through the vapours dim and dank,
Which curl in curious wreaths-How soon the smoke
Of Hell shall pall them in a deeper cloak!

"LXXXVII.

"Here pause we for the present-as even then
That awful pause, dividing life from death,
Struck for an instant on the hearts of men,

Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath!

A moment-and all will be life again!

The march! the charge! the shouts of either faith!
Hurra! and Allah! and one moment more-

-

The Death-cry drowning in the battle's roar.

The eighth Canto commences with equal spirit.

« VI.

"The night was dark, and the thick mist allowed

Nought to be seen save the artillery's flame,

P. 60.