advantage-never did his assessor more amusingly console the discomfitures of the failing candidates-every thing that was affable, every thing that was mollifying, was ably expressed by both the judges; but poetical ambition is not easily allayed. When the fatal fiat was announced in favour of the Rev. Thomas Warton, a general gloom overspread the whole society-a still and awful silence long prevailed. At length Sir Cecil Wray started up, and emphatically pronounced A scrutiny! a scrutiny !—A shout of applause succeeded-in vain did the incomparable Buffo introduce his most comic gestures-in vain was his admirable leg pointed horizontally at every head in the room--a scrutiny was demanded-and a scrutiny was granted. In a word, the Lord Chamberlain declared his readiness to submit the productions of the day to the inspection of the public, reserving nevertheless to himself and his assessor the full power of annulling or establishing the sentence already pronounced. It is in consequence of the above direction, that we shall now give the public the said PROBATIONARY VERSES, commencing with those, however, which are the . production of such of the candidates as most vehemently insisted on the right of appeal, conceiving such priority to be in justice granted to the persons whose public spirit has given so lucky a turn to this poetical election. According to the above order, the first composition that we lay before the public is the following: NUMBER I. IRREGULAR ODE. The WORDS by SIR CECIL WRAY, BART. The SPELLING by Mr. GROJAN, Attorney at Law, HARK! hark!-hip! hip!-hoh! hoh! I'm sure there's a dozen a-dinging! I hear sweet Shells, loud Harps, large Lyres- Some by Priests, and some by Lords!-while Joe and I Yes, Joe and I Are em'lous-Why? It is because, great CESAR, you are clever→→ Sing-sing-sing-sing, Smile then, CESAR, smile on Wray! Laurels vain of Covent-garden, I don't value you a farding!- For 't is sick of small beer! CESAR! CESAR! give it-do! Great CESAR giv't all, for my Muse 'doreth you!- You Goddess of Elizium's hill, Descend upon my Paan's quill.. I mount!-I mount! I'm half a Lark-I'm half an Eagle! I see their dam-she is a Beagle! Ye Royal little ones, I love your flesh and bones ou are an arch, rear'd with immortal stones! Hibernia strikes his harp! Shuttle, fly!-woof! web! warp! Far, far, from me and you, In latitude North 52 Rebellion's hush'd, The merchant's flush'd ; TA Hail, awful Brunswick, Saxe-Gotha, hail! I Thus, I a-far from mad debate, Like an old wren, With my good hen, Or a young gander, Am a by-stander, I To all the peacock pride, and vain regards of state!→→→→ NUMBER II ODE ON THE NEW YEAR, By LORD MULGRAVE. STROPHE. O FOR a Muse of Fire, With blazing thumbs to touch my torpid lyre! With wild affright would see the snow-bills roll, But that Lions dwell not there Nor beast, nor Christian-none but the White Bear! ANTISTROPHE, (By Brother HARRY.) Farewell awhile, ye summer breezes! A span! Sometimes it thaws, sometimes it freezes, If Heaven decrees, fierce whirlwinds rend the air, |