Truant Bards! where are the Triumphal Odes and the Congratulatory Poems which should have greeted Mr. PUNCHINELLO, who, after deserting his beloved Italy, after a stormy voyage and unspeakable sea-sickness, has arrived here with a view of settling and of becoming a citizen (having already filed his first papers) of this magnificent Republic? Where are the poets who should have greeted the venerable and illustrious voyager? Imbeciles! See you not that your congratulatory work would have been easy? That PUNCHINELLO rhymes to fellow (good) and to mellow, (decidedly,) to say nothing of bellow, (a proper word for singers,) and to yellow, (although into this and the sear leaf we most decidedly have not fallen, in spite of our three or four hundred years.) Had we but been a Prince, and called VICTORIA R. our mother, we should ere this have been invited to balls enough to ruin our small legs, and dinners enough to destroy our great digestion. Yet, if it should come to the comparison of pedigrees, the Signor PUNCHINELLO feels that he could knock these princelings into a cocked hat, (or shall we say a cocked coronet?) Mr. PUNCHINELLO proudly knows that he is His Own Ancestor and the Perpetual Renewer of his own Patent of Nobility. Gentlemen poets, it is too late! We will not now have your melodious ovations at any price! It would be a pretty piece of business indeed, if, after sounding our own trumpet for ages, as we may say, we should now succumb to an idiotic modesty. Do you not understand that we were sonorously beating our own drum when the Onondaga Giant was a mere baby? We shall continue to play upon both these private instruments. If we consider ourselves to be wise above our fellow-creatures, witty to a degree most extraordinary, more Senatorial by nature and experience than most of the Potents and Graves in Washington; if we know ourselves (and we hope we do) to be polished, polite, and profound, why should we go hunting about for a bushel to put our light under? Away with modesty! Can printer's ink blush? Who blames the _Tribunes_ and the _Heralds_ and the _Worlds_ and the _Timeses_ for vaunting a circulation which seems to defy mortal numeration? A pretty market we should have brought our fish to, if we should now squeamishly decline to wind our own mellow horn! If there be any poetical gentleman who desires to write an Epic (in not less than twenty-four Books) on the Life and Adventures of PUNCHINELLO, to be printed on vellum paper, with profuse illustrations, and bound in morocco, this ambitious and worthy person has our full permission to go ahead, and may he find (which we do not believe he will) a publisher sensible enough to produce his work! * * * * * New-England versus New-York. An item of literary news states that-- "William R. Cutter, Esq., of Woburn, Mass., is preparing a history of the Cutter family of New-England."