The village inn, the woodfire burning bright, The solitary taper's flickering light, The lowly couch, the casement swinging free,-- My noblest friend, was this a place for thee? No fitting place! Yet there, from all apart, We poured forth mind for mind and heart for heart, Ranging from idle words and tales of mirth To the deep mysteries of heaven and earth Yet there thine own sweet voice, in accents low, First breathed Iphigenias tale of wee, The glorious tale, by Goethe fitly told, And cast as finely in an English mould By Taylor's kindred spirit, high and bold:[21] No fitting place! yet that delicious hour Fell on my soul, like dewdrops on a flower Freshening and nourishing and making bright The plant, decaying less from time than blight, Flinging Hope's sunshine o'er the faint dim aim, Thy praise my motive, thine applause my fame. No fitting place! yet (inconsistent strain And selfish!) come, I prithee, come again! Three Mile Cross, Feb 1829. _Sharpe's Magazine_. [21] Mr. Taylor's transition of Goethe's _Iphigenia in Tauris_; one of the finest plays out of Shakspeare, and now extremely rare. * * * * * ILLUSTRIOUS FOLLIES. We have been amused with a light pattering paper in Nos. 1. and 2. of Sharpe's London Magazine--entitled "_Illustrious Visiters_." Its only fault is extreme length, it being nearly thirty pages, and, as some people would say, "all about nothing." But some will think otherwise, and smile at the sly shafts which are let fly at our national follies, of which, it must be owned, we have a very great share. We ought to premise that the framework of the satire is a visit of the Court Cards to our metropolis, a pretty considerable hit at some recent royal visits. Of course, they see every thing worth seeing, and some of their remarks are truly piquant. The spirit, or fun, of the article would evaporate in an abridgment, so we will endeavour to give a few of the narrator's best points:-- _The Arrival_.