688 



Monthly Review of LUeralure. 



[Dec. 



iTierges into the rights of the purchaser ; 

 upon which riglits, thus distinctly and per- 

 sonally invested, nobody, of course, thinks of 

 incroaching. Therefore, when you have 

 gained the proprietor's consent to engrave, 

 gratuitously given, to be intercepted by the 

 pretended rights of a new claimant, and 

 that for money, is really too much to be 

 tolerated. It is not at all in accordance 

 with old English notions, where freedom of 

 action, and freedom of trade, at home, at 

 least, is stUl warmly cherished. The claim 

 rests solely on an idle analogy — the copy- 

 right of a book, and the security of a patent 

 . — in a case where neither specifically exists. 

 Such analogy might be an argument to urge 

 In soliciting the protection of the legislature, 

 but can be none, surely, for enforcing what 

 is utterly without the sanction of legal au- 

 thority. Analogy is a very delusive matter 

 — small distinctions make great differences ; 

 and, at all events, analogy is not yet law, 

 at the will of all who choose to exact it ; 

 and, till then, we trust the pretension will 

 be stoutly resisted. Sir Thomas had better 

 look to this. 



Not quite to forget the Souvenir — it ap- 

 pears to us to be fully equal to its prede- 

 cessors ; and we do not readily see how it 

 could surpass them — ornamentally we mean. 

 IMany of the tales and sketches are excel- 

 lent ; and Miss Mitford is, we think, more 

 than usually felicitous in her " Village 

 Romance." We can only quote a sonnet 

 of Mr. Hoyle — there are several of his ; but 

 this, to our taste, is considerably the best. 



ON LEAVING SCOTLAND. 

 Haunt of the bard and painter, Iiardy child 

 Of nature, cradled in the giant arras 

 Of winter, and the lonely mountains wild I 

 1 leave thee, Caledonia, but thy charms 

 Are pictured on my heart ! May never tread 

 Of foeman, nor the trumpet of alarms 

 Approach thee more : but peace and plenty spread 

 Their mantle o'er thee, and the laurelled crown 

 Of science grace thy castellated head. 

 For me, till health and reason's self be flown, 

 The thought shall kindle, and the tongue shall tell 

 Thy lakes and rocks, thy patriots and renown. 

 Land of the Frith, the cataract, and the dell. 

 Land of the Wallace and the Bruce— Farewell. 



Epping Hunt, by Thomas Hood, Esq. ; 



1829 Mr. Hood is nothing if not setting 



phrases by the ears, and hmicing down puns 

 and " varmint" with the ardour and instinct 

 of a ferret or a terrier. Severity against so 

 incorrigible and, after all, so harmless a 

 sinner, is breaking butterflies, &c. But 

 never was the difference between the simple 

 and the artificial better contrasted than in 

 the tales of Cowper's John Gilpin, and 

 Hood's John Huggins. In vain does Mr. 

 Hood take the tone and cadence of Cowper's 

 metre, and some of his quaintnesses : such 

 is the perpetual strain and struggle visible 



in every line, that, while Gilpin will last for 

 ever, Huggins, even with Cruikshank's aid, 

 will be forgotten, perhaps before our notice 

 gets printed. Huggins is a cheesemonger 

 of Cheapside, who attends the Epping 

 Easter Hunt ; and after being twice spilt, 

 and losing his mare, finally, at the cost of a 

 supper and a sovereign, recovers both her 

 and his home again. The book may not 

 fall into the hands of all our readers, and so 

 we give them a specimen of Mr. Hood's 

 labours. 



Six days a-week beheld him stand. 



His business next his heart, 

 At counter with his apron tied 



About his counter-part. 



The seventh in a sluice-Louse box. 



He took his pipe and pot ; 

 On Sundays for eel piety 



A very noted spot. 



Tliis was a pretty hard pull — the next, 

 concerned with the shop, is harder. 



No thought had he of twisted spine. 



Or broken arms or legs ; 

 Not chicken-hearted he, altho' 



'Twas whisper'd of his eggt. 



Harder still — 



And so he paced to Woodford Wells, 

 Where many a horseman met. 



And letting go the reins, of course, 

 Prepared for heavy met. 



At Woodford Wells he is equally elabo- 

 rate, but something happier. 



In merriest key I trow was he— (the host) 



So many guests to boast ; 

 So certain congregations meet. 



And elevate the host. 



Of the assemblage — 



Some had horses of their own. 



And some were forced to job it ; 

 And some, while they inclined to Hunt, 

 Betook themselves to Cob-it. 



The deer-cart — 



In shape like half a hearse,— tho' not 



For corpses in the least ; 

 For this contained the deer alive,'] 



And not the dear deceased. 



The deer started — 



Away, away, he scudded like 



A ship before the gale : 

 Now flew to " hills we know not of," 



Now, nun-like, took the vale. 



In the hunt — 



Some lost their stirrups, some their whips. 



Some had no caps to show ; 

 But few, like Charles, at Charing Cross, 



Rode on in Statue quo. 



" dear, O dear,'' now might you hear, 



" I've surely broke a bone ; 

 My heai is sore " — with many more 



Such speeches from the thrown, &c. 



