The print represents the original mansion, or, we should rather say, city of mansions, with its monastic chapel, and geometrical gardens, laid out in the trim style of our forefathers. The suite of state apartments in the principal front was very splendid, and previously to their being dismantled by Sir William Chambers, they exhibited a sorry scene of royal finery and attic taste. Mouldering walls and decayed furniture, broken casements, falling roofs, and long ranges of uninhabited and uninhabitable apartments, winding stairs, dark galleries, and long arcades--all combined to present to the mind in strong, though gloomy colours, a correct picture of the transitory nature of sublunary splendour. In the distance of the print is the celebrated Strand maypole, although its situation there does not coincide with that marked out in more recent prints. The original of our Engraving is a scarce print, by Hollar, who died in 1677. In the year 1650, an act was passed for the sale of the "honours, manors, and lands heretofore belonging to the late king, queen, and prince," for the payment of the army; and under that act were sold several tenements, &c. "belonging unto Somerset House." In this list were several signs, and it is remarkable, that the _Red Lion_, (opposite the _Office of the Mirror_, and at the corner of Catherine-street, in the Strand) is the only one which now remains. The _Lion_ may still be seen on the front of the house. The Red Lion wine vaults, three doors from this corner was probably named from the above, since nearly every house formerly had its sign. * * * * * JERUSALEM. _(For the Mirror.)_ City of God--thy palaces o'erthrown-- Thy nation branded--tribes o'er earth dispersed: Thy temple ruin'd, and thy glory fled,-- Speak of thy impious crimes, thy daring guilt, And tell a tale whose lines are traced in blood. No more from hence ascends The sacrificial smoke; the priest no more Sheds blood of lambs, to expiate thy crimes-- Crimes foul as hell--crimes which the blood of Him, Who came from heaven to die for guilty man, Alone could purge,--and innocence impart. Here holy David tuned his harp to strains Sublime as those of angels, when he sung In dulcet melody the praise of Him Who should redeem from guilt the sons of man, And rescue who in Him believed from death-- That second death--of which the first is type. Here lived--here died--whom prophets long foretold, Whom angels worship and whom seraphs praise, The Son of God, mysterious God-Man: He was rejected by the Jew; and here-- To fill the awful measure of their guilt-- At noon, a deed was done, without a peer; A deed, unequalled since the world began, The masterpiece of sin, of crime the chief; At which the sun grew dark, earth's pillars shook, Chaotic gloom as erst o'erspread the land, And nature frowned at insults paid her God-- The crucifixion of His only Son.