pencil, like a falling meteor. The flowers that adorn his poetry bloom over charnel-houses and the grave! There is one subject on which Lord Byron is fond of writing, on which I wish he would not write--Buonaparte. Not that I quarrel with his writing for him, or against him, but with his writing both for him and against him. What right has he to do this? Buonaparte's character, be it what else it may, does not change every hour according to his Lordship's varying humour. He is not a pipe for Fortune's finger, or for his Lordship's Muse, to play what stop she pleases on. Why should Lord Byron now laud him to the skies in the hour of his success, and then peevishly wreak his disappointment on the God of his idolatry? The man he writes of does not rise or fall with circumstances: but "looks on tempests and is never shaken." Besides, he is a subject for history, and not for poetry. "Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread, But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried; For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior, famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foil'd, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd." If Lord Byron will write any thing more on this hazardous theme, let him take these lines of Shakspeare for his guide, and finish them in the spirit of the original--they will then be worthy of the subject.