FANNY. Though he with stars in beauty vie,
And thou be fickle as the motion

Of buoy upon the wavy ocean,
With thee I'll live, with thee I'll die.

MIDDLESET'S FAREWELL.

MR. EDITOR,

Having in my last epistle, but left room for vague conjectures as to my resolution of appearing before you again or not, I have now determined to retire á la Jaques, formally and unequivocally, with a dying speech and confession. The causes of this my intention, (so fatal to the interests of the Leodiensian,) are many and weighty. The first is, that I have lost my itching "to be seen in print," an honour which formerly had ineffable charms to me the second, that I find writing very troublesome, and very unprofitable: and the third, that, from my personal sallies, I am daily increasing the number of my enemies, a result, which to my meek and amiable disposition, is truly heart-rending. The indignant Mrs. Fainflash has closed her doors against me for what she terms my beseness and ingrittitoode, and the venom of her toady is daily poisoning my reputation by voting me in her select circle, "a hintolerable puppy" or 66 an eartless roué." The Living-Poet-man, with whom I was pleased to be good-naturedly facetious last month, by mock-logically identifying mine own grimaldian phiz with his quixotic

countenance, has less amiably revenged himself in similar coin, by writing circulars in my name, in which I am made to scurrilize both myself and friends. The last, though not the least of my persecutions, was from the Love-lorn Don, who on first reading my critique on his productions, when I happened to be present, baptized me in his wrath, with a glass of

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Barclay's entire." Surrounded therefore, as I am, by revengeful matrons, spiteful old maids, chop-fallen authors, and irate sonnet-builders, I shall, without fear of imputed cowardice, shrink from mine honourable, but too dangerous post, and (as Trelawney would express it,) mizzle once more into pristine obscurity. However absurd it may appear, Mr. Editor, on SO short an acquaintance with yourself and readers, I cannot refrain the pleasingly melancholy duty of bidding you all farewell! Ye sneering tribe of ultra-wiseacres, who have my name so cruelly bespatteredfarewell! Ye doating nibblers at metaphysics, whose names are as immaterial as the phantoms ye pursuefarewell! Ye kind and unpretending readers, who have with fav'ring eyes beheld me-farewell! and last and dearest in the train, ye maids, whose eyes and hose perchance are both one colour, to you with sad heighos! I breathe farewell! To you, my kindest, ever smiling friends, I dedicate the following soliloquy, or, (as my noble predecessor Jaques has said,) I drain my stirrup cup, and now, Mr. Editor, I remain, for the last time,

Your ever obliged and obedient Servant,

MARK MIDDLESET.

July, 1828.

CELEBS' SOLILOQUY.

Wedlock or celibacy? there's the question !—
Whether 'twere wiser to remain unshackled,
With none but single grievances to vex one,
Or with the cares connubial to be tackled ?—
This is a matter far beyond the knowledge
Of wiser man than ever went to college.

The case is simple:-whether it were better
To live a single life of gloomy freedom,
Or generously put on a husband's fetter,

For some fair lady who may chance to need one ?— Tell me, philosopher, what shall I do, Sir ?— "Faith," he replies, "the question is a pozer !"

To live, alone, in lodgings small and gloomy,
But free from all expense of house and rentals;
Or take a mansion, elegant and roomy,

With taxes, rates, and such like incidentals?
Never was question more completely teazing,
Each is so very bad, yet very pleasing.

A jovial Colebs, blest with jovial friends,

Upon your wine (not you) too often calling :Or-wedded, for these cares to make amends, With little wedded pledges round you squalling ;— From either side, I'll cease to seek detraction, The odds to me, seem even, to a fraction.

How clear the case appears; 'twould be but vain
Upon it longer fruitlessly descanting:

Surely, each side is seen in light so plain,

A verdict need not very long be wanting: What think you?"it would be the wisest plan, Sir, To ask both bachelor and married man, Sir."

I will: here comes a primming, starch'd old prig, With limbs beneath his faded garments shrinking;Grey goggling eyes,—nose bluish red and big,—

(The sweet proceeds of single joys and drinking.) He croaks with voice and look that none need envy, “What hapless wretches must these married men be!”

But here's a married man: he struts along,-
His little henpeck'd body smartly jerking,-
Swearing he's happy as the days are long,

And, with forc'd smiles, perpetually smirking: Whereas, each smile (in point of mirth) far worse is, Than the gay plumage stuck on youthful hearses.—

What's then the choice?-'tis Hobson's, I confess :-
Although I think, the single situation
One small advantage truly does possess ;
Having the double,—in anticipation :—
Whereas the man who on the double ventures,
Is bound for life, to Hymen, by indentures.—

Wedlock's a lottery: and, though by some

The shares are bought with very sanguine wishes, Tis said, the prizes do as rarely come

As "twenty thousands" formerly, at Bish's:

And if in this they rightly do inform us,

The odds, you know, of course must be enormous.———

'Tis said again that marriage goes by fate;But I am single yet, and may be longer: For, ere I venture on the wedded state,

My faith in woman must be somewhat stronger : Then, be she blank or prize, I'll ne'er forsake her, But if a blank, just beg the Lord to take her.—

MARK MIDDLESET.

TO VENUS.

Preserver of the human race,
Goddess of the pretty face,
Mistress of the smiling brow,
And the glossy locks that flow
Over bright eyes, fain to cover

All their beauties from the lover,

To whom more suppliants bend the knee,

And with more sincerity,

Than to Phoebus, Jove, or Pan,

Or any other, god or man;

And whom I among the rest

Supplicate to make me blest;

There is a maiden- -Beauty's Queen,
Thou knowest well the maid, I ween-
Whom thou, being of immortal birth,

Hast made thy deputy on earth,