THE 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OP 

 POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND THE BELLES LETTRES. 



VOL. IX.] JANUARY, 1830. [No. 49- 



ANNUS MIRABILIS; 



OR 



FA11KWELL TO THE YEAR 1829- 



BEGONE, them dullest of all Years ! 

 Let Wordsworth o'er thee shake his eara ; 

 Let Southey, for his pipe of port, 

 Pay to thy majesty his court ; 

 Let Milman, weary of the Jews, 

 Fall on his nose to kiss thy shoes ; 

 Let pungent Crabbe, let classic Bowles, 

 For thee forsake the cure of souls. 

 Leaving in peace his northern hovels, 

 Let Scott abjure for once his novels ; 

 Let Moore leave Byron to his doze, 

 And give thy dying hours to prose. 

 Dramatic Baillie, lofty Campbell, 

 The host that round Parnassus ramble 

 From epic bards to tiniest wits, 

 In albums who embalm their hits, 

 Whose sonnets, well entitled strains, 

 Give proof of every thing but brains ; 

 Old Year ! let all around thee weep, 

 Right glad we see thee fast asleep. 



But let us, like true Britons, sing 

 First, as in duty bound, our King. 



His Majesty has left his hut, 

 So long the Windsor witlings' butt ; 

 Forsworn the eel and gudgeon slaughter, 

 And left in peace Virginia water : 

 (That water, whose deep mysteriei 

 Awoke such hosts of prying eyes ; 

 B 2 



