Don’t tip me now, my lad of wax, Ne sis, Ο cerâ mollior, Your blarney and locution, Grandiloquus et vanus; Och! sure you ar’n’t a giant yet, Heus bone! non es gigas tu, Nor I a Lilliputian. Et non sum ego nanus. Here again the author, of course, had Homer in his eye-- Μήτι μευ, ἠύτε παιδὸς ἀφαυροῦ, πειρήτιζε. And again-- Πηλείδη, μὴ δή μ’ ἐπέεσσί γε, νηπύτιον ὥς, Ἐλπεο δειδίξεσθαι. The contest, which, it is possible, I may by-and-by transmit to you at length, is described with a minuteness which far exceeds Virgil’s Dares and Entellus, or even the pugilism of the _Sporting Magazine_. The modest MacTwolter is, as he deserves to be, the victor. The poem concludes in a high strain of triumph-- So Victory to Phelim gave Victoria dedit Phelimo A wife of fair renown; Uxorem valde bonam; And with that wife she gave besides Et dedit cum uxore hâc To him a silver crown. Argenteam coronam. I must now cease to comment upon this fascinating character, and proceed, without further delay, to the celebration of the amour of his descendant. Looney MacTwolter is well known to you, as you have frequently heard the identical ballad from the lips of Frederick Golightly. I shall therefore give you my promised translation of it, without note or preface. Give it a classical name--“an Eclogue,” or “an Idyll,” or “an Elegy,” or what you will. Ι. Oh, whack! Cupid’s a mannikin, Smack on my heart he hit me a polter; Good lack, Judy O’Flannikin! Dearly she loves nate Looney MacTwolter. Judy’s my darling, my kisses she suffers; She’s an heiress, that’s clear, For her father sells beer; He keeps the sign of the Cow and the Snuffers; She’s so smart, From my heart I cannot bolt her. Oh, whack, Judy O’Flannikin! She is the girl for Looney MacTwolter. II. Oh, hone! good news I need a bit! We’d correspond, but larning would choke her. Mavrone!--I cannot read a bit; Judy can’t tell a pen from a poker. Judy’s so constant, I’ll never forsake her; She’s true as the moon-- Only one afternoon I caught her asleep with a humpbacked shoemaker. She’s so smart, &c. ά. Ἀλαλη· τι μικρον ἐστι βρεφος οὐλιον Κυθηρης, ἐμε δ’ ἐγκρατει βελεμνῳ προς καρδιαν ένυξεν. ἀλαλη· τι φημ’; Ιουδιθ ἀπο Φλαννικιν φιλεῖ με, τον Λουνιαν φιλεῖ με, τοκον εὐπρεπη Τυολτρου. μελι και το νεκταρ ἀμον ἀπαλη πεφυκ’ Ιουδιθ· το δ’ ἐμον, χαριεσσα θυμῳ, γλυκερον φιλημα πασχει. ἐφανη δ’ ἀρ’, oὐκ ἀδηλως, μεγαλου λαχουσα κληρου. ὀ πατηρ γαρ, εὐ τοδ’ οιδα, πομα κριθινον πιπρασκει. ὑπο σημα δ’ ἡ καθηται βοος ἡδε και πυραγρας.