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THE

GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE:

AND

HISTORICAL CHRONICLE.

FROM JULY TO-DECEMBER, 1825.

VOLUME XCV.

(BEING THE EIGHTEENTH OF A NEW SERIES.)

PART THE SECOND.

PRODESSE & DELECTARE.

E PLURIBUS UNUM.

By SYLVANUS URBAN, GENT.

London:

PRINTED BY JOHN NICHOLS AND SON, 23, PARLIAMENT-STREET ;
WHERË LETTERS ARE PARTICULARLY REQUESTED TO BE SENT, POST-PAID ;

AND SOLD BY JOHN HARRIS,
AT THE CORNER OP ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD, LUDGATE STREET;

AND BY PERTHES AND BESSER, HAMBUROH.

AP

4

G3
To SYLVANUS URBAN, Gent.

ON COMPLETING HIS Xcyth VOLUME.

HAIL, veteran Sage! whose years have reach'd the span
Assign'd by Moses* to the life of man.
Still may fresh laurels crown thy deathless name,
Won in the paths of honour and of fame.
"Tis thine to save from premature decay,
And from Time's grasp wrest half his spoils away.
In thy perennial Work the inquiring eye
May trace the solemn rites of days gone by.
There we behold, by Druid Priests adora,
The trinal power of Heaven's eternal Lord.

Through London's streets when sounds of mourning past
Unheeded on the pestilential blast,
When I the black cart in dire array was led,
And the hoarse bellman summon'd forth the dead,
With glistening eye we read recorded there
The prudent Citizen's unyielding care,
That check'd the direful Minister of fate,
Who vainly hover'd round his humble gate-
At his right hand while tens of thousands fell,
He unpolluted heard the funeral knell.

And see where follows, in procession slow,
The solemn Pageant's & quaint and stately show--
When civic Poets in prolific verse
The glories of their Sovereign's sway rehearse.
When the tall spire of Kibworth's || ancient fane
With ruin strews the tomb-encumber'd plain,
Its form, preserv'd in thy recording Page,
Survives conspicuous to each future age.
And when, by the Destroyer's scythe o'erthrown,
Falls the high tower and monumental stone;
When those proud fabrics in confusion lie,
Rear'd by their builders for eternity;
When from that stroke no pious wish can save
The Giant Gods of Elephanta's cave;
And Memphian piles, unfaithful to their trust,
No longer hide the unknown Monarch's dust
Thou still shalt flourish-and the common doom
That sweeps the pride of ages to the tomb,
Like His of old, the Avenger's stroke divine,
Shall blast the toils of Kings, but pass o'er thine!-

C. A. WheelWRIGHT. Tansor Rectory, Dec. 16.

. Ps. xc. verse 10. + “On the religion of the Druids," part i. p. 7. * Letter on the Plague, part i. p. 313. Š London Pageants,” part i. p. 81.

# Part ii. p. 113. 1 Exod. xii. 23.

PREFACE.

THIS is our Ninety-fifth Annual Address. In the short period of four years the Gentleman's Magazine will enter the second centenary of its existence. Amidst all the changes which have transpired in the literary world, during this extended period, the venerable Sylvanus has pursued the same even tenor of his way. Whilst rivalry of the most powerful character has constantly appeared in the literary arena, and contemporary Publications innumerable have been driven from the field, Sylvanus Urban has stood immoveable as towering Atlas, when warring elements play around his head, and foaming oceans break their billows at his feet.

The Literature of England was perhaps never more varied, or more extensively diffused, than during the past year. It was once considered necessary for a person to be a Student before he became an Author; but now all such preliminary steps are considered superfluous, if we are to judge from the melange of professions with which Authorship is crowded. Every individual who can scribble a paragraph, assumes the character of an Author, Compiler, or Editor: this probably accounts for the ephemeral inundation of cheap periodical or twopenny works of the early part of the current year; and perhaps for the countless volumes of useless trash with which we have been deluged. From the Army, we have two gallant Colonels directing editorial assaults on each other, in the columns of their own weekly journals. From the Navy, we have a Purser standing forth as the high-priest of modern Hellenistic learning, and a Lieutenant emblazoning the columns of every newspaper, as the oracle of Booksellers in biographical and genealogical lore,- tenet insanabile multos scribendi cacoëthes. - In the new Literary Institutions, every individual who imagines himself capable of giving an opinion on any department of literature, assumes the important office of a Lecturer. Thus one offers to enlighten the world on Heraldryanother on Topography—and a third, assuming the title of Doctor, to teach Latin by lecturing ! risum teneatis. But what is still more extraordinary, if we are to rely on the statements of the Hamiltonian Professors, the learned languages are taught, as it were, by a steam-engine power, without the necessity of the teacher understanding them himself !

The political horizon of Europe, fortunately, was never more auspicious than at the present time; but on the Continent, however, there appears a constant fermentation in every department of literature-a perpetual struggle with Governments and the pressand in many instances native talent is paralyzed. Two grand parties possess the field—one supporting the old monarchical principles of the Monkish ages, and the other advocating liberal ideas and the march of the human intellect. Under the latter, which is the popular banner, we find America, England, the Netherlands, and the great mass of Germany. France (says the Courier Francais)

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