To the measure in which these lines are written the wits of Queen Anne's days contemptuously gave the name of Namby-Pamby, in ridicule of Ambrose Philips, who has used it in some instances, as in the lines on Cuzzoni, to my feeling at least, very deliciously; but Wither, whose darling measure it seems to have been, may show, that in skilful hands it is capable of expressing the subtilest movements of passion. So true it is, which Drayton seems to have felt, that it is the poet who modifies the metre, not the metre the poet; in his own words, that "It's possible to climb; To kindle, or to stake; Altho' in Skelton's rhime."[1] [Footnote 1: A long line is a line we are long repeating. In the _Shepherds Hunting_ take the following-- "If thy verse doth bravely tower, _As she makes wing, she gets power;_ Yet the higher she doth soar, She's affronted still the more, 'Till she to the high'st hath past, Then she rests with fame at last." What longer measure can go beyond the majesty of this! what Alexandrine is half so long in pronouncing or expresses _labor slowly but strongly surmounting difficulty_ with the life with which it is done in the second of these lines? or what metre could go beyond these from _Philarete_-- "Her true beauty leaves behind Apprehensions in my mind Of more sweetness, than all art Or inventions can impart. _Thoughts too deep to be expressed, And too strong to be suppressed._"] LETTERS, UNDER ASSUMED SIGNATURES, PUBLISHED IN "THE REFLECTOR." * * * * * THE LONDONER. * * * * * TO THE EDITOR OF "THE REFLECTOR." Mr. Reflector,--I was born under the shadow of St. Dunstan's steeple, just where the conflux of the eastern and western inhabitants of this twofold city meet and justle in friendly opposition at Temple-bar. The same day which gave me to the world, saw London happy in the celebration of her great annual feast. This I cannot help looking upon as a lively omen of the future great good-will which I was destined to bear toward the city, resembling in kind that solicitude which every Chief Magistrate is supposed to feel for whatever concerns her interests and well-being. Indeed I consider myself in some sort a speculative Lord Mayor of London: for though circumstances unhappily preclude me from the hope of ever arriving at the dignity of a gold chain and Spital Sermon, yet thus much will I say of myself in truth, that Whittington with his cat (just emblem of vigilance and a furred gown) never went beyond me in affection which I bear to the citizens.