gales,

With a mild and gracious mien

Leading on his "Faery Queene."

Shakspeare, child of fancy, stood

Smiling in a mirthful mood,

As tho' he that moment spied

The fairy folk by Bottom's side,

Or beheld by Herne's old oak,

Falstaff with his antler yoke.

Dryden, laurel-crown'd and hoary,

Proudly stood in all his glory;

Pope, as if his claims to speak

Rested on the ancient Greek;

And that prince of merry-men,

Laughing, quaffing, "rare old Ben,"

Whose quaint conceits, so gay, so wild,

Have oft my heart from woe beguil'd,

Shone like a meteor 'midst the throng,

The envy of each son of song.

There too were those of later years,

Who've moved the mind to mirth or tears:

Byron, with his radiant ray—

Scott, with many a magic lay—

The gay and gorgeous minstrel, Moore,

Rich in the charms of Eastern lore—

Campbell, like a brilliant star,

Shed the beams of "Hope" afar—

Rogers, with a smiling eye

Told the joys of "Memory,"

Southey, with his language quaint,

Describing daemon, sinner, saint—

Wordsworth, of the simpler strain,

Clare, the young unletter'd swain—

Wiffen, who in fairy bowers,

Culls blossoms in "Aonian hours,"

Shone like a star in dusky skies,

When first the evening shades arise.

Barton, the gentle bard, was there,

And Hemans, tender as she's fair—

And Croly, whose bright genius beams

Ever on virtue's fairest themes;

With Burns, the muse's darling child—

And Luttrell, laughing, sportive, wild,

As when be penn'd for Julia's eye,

His sweet "Advice" for what? for why?

And Crabbe, who misery portrays,

With crowds of others, crown'd with bays,

Who shed around their bright'ning beams,

And cheer'd a humbler poet's dreams.

ANCIENT SITE OF THE EXETER 'CHANGE, &c.

(For the Mirror.)

Here was formerly the parsonage-house for the parish of St. Clement Danes, with a garden and close for the parson's horse, till Sir Thomas Palmer, knight, in the reign of Edward VI., came into the possession of the living, and began to build a house; but upon his attainder for high treason, in the first year of Queen Mary, it reverted to the crown. This house remained in the crown till Queen Elizabeth granted it to Sir William Cecil, lord treasurer, who augmented and rebuilt it, when it was called Cecil House, and Burleigh House. It was said to have been a noble pile, and adorned with four square turrets. It was afterwards called Exeter House, from the title of his son and successor. Lord Burleigh died here in 1598. It fronted the Strand, and its gardens extended from the west side of the garden-wall of Wimbledon House to the Green-lane, which is now Southampton-street. Lord Burleigh was in this house honoured by a visit from Queen Elizabeth, who, knowing him to be subject to the gout, would always make him to sit in her presence, which, it is probable, (says Nightingale,) the lord treasurer considered a gteal indulgence from so haughty a lady, inasmuch as he one day apologized for the badness of his legs. To which the queen replied, "My lord, we make use of you not for the badness of your legs, but for the goodness of your head." When she came to Burleigh House, it is probable she had that kind of pyramidial head-dress then in fashion, built of wire, lace, ribands, and jewels, which shot up to a great height; for when the principal domestic ushered her in, as she passed the threshold he desired her majesty to stoop. To which she replied, "For your master's sake I will stoop, but not for the king of Spain." After the fire of London, this house was occupied by the doctors of civil law, &c. till 1672; and here the various courts of arches, admiralty, &c. were kept. Being deserted by the family, the lower part was converted into shops of various descriptions; the upper part, like Babylon of old, is a nest of wild beasts, birds, and reptiles. The present "march of intellect" will march away these bipeds and quadrupeds, and no doubt the noble Marquess of Exeter "would much rather have their room than their company."

P. T. W.

MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.

A DAY AT FONTAINBLEAU.—THE ROYAL HUNT.

Having learned that the King and the Dauphin, with the Duc de Grammont ,and the rest of the royal suite, were about to proceed to Fontainbleau, in order to enjoy the diversion of hunting, I resolved to be there to meet them, to see with my own eyes a royal personage of whom I had heard so much. Accordingly I ordered post horses, and arrived in the town about six hours after his Most Christian Majesty.

After breakfasting on a cold partridge and some excellent coffee, I set out at eight o'clock for the forest. Even at that hour—a late one in France, when compared with England—the roads were by no means thronged, and I could very plainly perceive that the major part of the equestrians were attached to the court, and that the pedestrians were either such as had been in the enjoyment of some of the good things of this life under the present family, or such as were in expectancy of them. There was a third class, altogether composed of the mob, who, partly incited by the desire of plunder, the love of idleness, or an indistinct hope of obtaining the entrails of the deer, flocked in great numbers to witness the feats of the royal party. Among this latter class, old men, old women, and very young boys predominated.

The forest of Fontainbleau is in itself beautiful in the extreme. The various alleys formed by the manner in which the oak trees are planted, create an imposing and majestic coup d'oeil, which is only bounded almost by the horizon. At the bottom and in the middle of these alleys were placed mounted gendarmes to restrain the intrusion of the populace, and to prevent them from coming—such is French curiosity—within shot of the hunters. At the end of one of these alleys, to my left, the great body of the crowd was stationed, and at the top of it was an enclosed space, somewhat like a stand on a race course, on which the royal party took their station, while the carriages and servants remained quietly behind. Across this stand, and within the enclosed space, were the roe-buck, fawns, and young wild boar goaded, while the King, the Dauphin, the Duc de Grammont, and the rest of the royal party, had their shots in succession, or, as it is technically termed, their "coup." Ten men were busy charging for the King, while as many were engaged for the Dauphin. Ammunition and cartridges were borne by four attendants, who, as well as the chargers, were all in the livery of the King's huntsmen. As shot after shot passed in quick succession, the sounds fell chiefly on the ears of those among the crowd—and they were the fewer number—who had hearts within them, and to British feeling each reverberation brought a mingled sensation. In England, and in most other nations, whether civilized or savage, when an animal is hunted, some chance at least of escape is given. The reader will bear in mind that the enclosed space around the stand was surrounded by a kind of chevaux de frize, six feet in height, so that the animal had not the least chance of escape, and the work of destruction of course went rapidly on.

Within 300 yards of the stand were placed a number of light carts, whose drivers vociferated loudly at the sound of each shot. These carts were placed for the purpose of carrying away the dead carcasses, as they accumulated in quick succession within the enclosure. In the short interval of four hours I saw twenty-three of these carts filled with