have their range of action confined to the second square from that on which they stand, and that it is allowable for them to move over any piece that may be on the intermediate square ;-an example of this occurs in the present instance. The other game, "dâba," very nearly resembles ours ;-the first move of the pawns, however, is limited to one square; and that very beautiful movement castling" is unknown to them.

66

The following is the situation of the game alluded to:

4th;

above

Black-King at his Queen's square; K. R. at its Q. Kt.'s square; Q. R. at its square; Q. B. at its Q. R.'s 3d.; Kt. at its Q. Kt.'s Pawns at the adversary's; Q. B.'s and Q. Kt.'s 3d. White-King at his Q. R.'s square; K. R. at it's adversary's K. R.'s 2d; Q. R. at its K. Kt.'s square; K. B. at its adversary's K. B.'s 4th.

The solution it were hardly necessary to give, but that the first move was one not customary with us. The Black Q. Bishop moves to the adversary's Q. B.'s 4th, passing over the Knight, and opening check. The two Rooks are then successively lost; the Q.'s Kt.'s pawn advances in checking; and, lastly, the coup mortel is given by the Knight at the Q. R.'s 3d.

There is a somewhat similar anecdote to this in the "Sporting Magazine" for May 1800; but the situation there pointed out could never have occurred in the Persian game, as it is asserted to

have done, for the Bishop is made to act from a distance of four squares off, to which, its Oriental powers, as I have before observed, are inadequate.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE MOOFUSSUL MISCELLANY.

SIR, The embonpoint of the French Empress Louisa-Maria has at length produced, what I am sure none of us expected, an heir to the great Napoleon. On such an occasion I could not refrain from mounting my Pegasus, however much it may be "invitâ Minervâ." The poets of the Seine have very probably anticipated me in their birth-day compliments; yet, though conscious of my inferiority, I could not resist the temptation of entering the list, and immortalizing one lay by attaching it to the future fame of the rising King of the Romans. O! that there may soon be occasion to blazon forth his or his father's deeds in dirge, elegy, or epitaph! This last, sad, pious office to their manes, I would perform with the most heart-felt joy; and in my invocation, exclaim with Virgil—

"Extremum hunc, Arethusa, mihi concede laborem.
Pauca meo Gallo,"-

APOLLYON.

YE Imps of Corsica! begin the song:
To themes like this demoniac strains belong.
The mossy fountains, and the peaceful shades,
Great George's virtues and the British maids,
Delight no more.-O thou, my voice inspire,
Who shall requite Napoleon's deeds with fire!

Rapt into dreaded times, the bard began!
Maria shall conceive, Maria bear a son!
From root obscure behold a branch arise,
Whose baleful flower with stenches fills the skies;
A hellish spirit o'er its leaves shall spread,
And on its top descend the raven dread.

Ye heavens! from high the forked lightnings pour, Let thunders crash, and clouds in anger low'r ! Nor sick nor weak the pois'nous plant shall aid, From storms no shelter, and from heat no shade. All crimes shall rage, and every fraud prevail, Despairing justice drop her loaded scale; War o'er the world her bloody hand extend, And red-robed guilt from gaping hell ascend. Slow roll the years, avaunt the dreaded morn! In darkness rest, nor, hated babe, be born! See, Nature dreads her wonted wreaths to bring, Nor breathes her incense now the drooping Spring: See lofty Alp his angry head recoil,

See shudd'ring forests sink into the soil:

See noisome clouds from bleeding Jaffa rise,

And Europe's blasted plains invoke the skies!

Hark! a dread voice the deserts hear with fright; "Avoid his way! a demon blasts the light!

A demon comes !"—the trembling hills resound,
Th' approaching curse the rocks proclaim around.
Lo, earth receives him from wide-yawning hell;
Hills sink with fright, with rage the valleys swell;
Ye cedars droop, the sad event deplore;
Be rough ye rocks: ye rapid floods, loud roar!
Th' avenger comes! by ancient bards foretold:
Who hears, is deaf;-he's blind who shall behold!
In thickest films he shall immerge the sight,
And on the eye-ball pour eternal night :
'Tis he that shall obstruct the paths of sound,
And with dire noise the deafen'd ear astound :
The dumb shall yell, the lame his crutch forego,
And fly in terrors like the stricken roe.
But sighs and murmurs the sad world shall hear,
And every face shall feel the frequent tear.
In chains no more shall cruel death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant roam the world around.
As the stern butcher tends his fleecy prey,
Coops up in pens, or lets them harmless play;
Alone on slaughter turned his savage mind,
By day his flocks are watch'd, by night confined;
The tender lambkin from its mother torn
He slays, nor knows its hapless fate to mourn;
Thus shall mankind his tyrant care engage,
The promis'd butcher of a future age.

See how the nations against nations rise,
And ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
The fields with blood-smear'd steel be cover'd o'er,
And brazen trumpets, kindling anger, roar :
The useless scythes shall into spears be made,
And rusty plough-shares yield the falchion's blade.

Then too shall prisons rise—the cursed Son
Shall finish what his too-old Sire begun.
No vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
Nor the same hand shall sow, and reap the field.
The swain to barren deserts with surprize,
Sees meadows turn, and blasted verdure dies:
And starts, amid the gushing rocks to hear
Old falls of water check their 'mid career;
Where green reeds tremble, and the bulrush nods,
Hard mounts are form'd,—the dragon's dire abodes.
Where spiry fir and shapely box adorn,

Are now waste valleys, thick perplex'd with thorn :
To flow'ry palms the leafless shrub succeeds,

And to the od'rous myrtle noisome weeds.

With gore of lambs the wolves shall stain the mead, On sprightly boys the rav'nous tigers feed; Not then unharmed shall steers the lion meet, Nor venom'd serpents spare the pilgrim's feet. The crested basilisk, and speckled snake, In murd'rous coils shall tender infants take; In many' a slimy fold their young limbs crush, And with their forky tongue their shrieks of anguish hush.

Sink, stained with blood, imperial Paris, sink!
Bow down thy head, and from thy prospects shrink!
See not the miscreants that thy courts disgrace;
See not thy future sons and daughters base,
Who rise in crowds, and clam'rous prey demand,
Impatient for the meed from Satan's hand!
See not the groaning nations who attend,-
Thy sway they curse, but in submission bend;
Nor view thy altars, throng'd with abject kings,
And heap'd with spoils, thy bandit army brings.