w of Hector and Andromache. Lord Douro
is frightened at his father's feather, but begs for his epaulette.

BOOK VIII.

Neptune, trembling for the event of the war, implores Venus, who, as
the offspring of his element, naturally venerates him, to procure from
Vulcan a deadly sword and a pair of unerring pistols for the Duke. They
are accordingly made, and superbly decorated. The sheath of the sword,
like the shield of Achilles, is carved, in exquisitely fine miniature,
with scenes from the common life of the period; a dance at Almack's a
boxing match at the Fives-court, a lord mayor's procession, and a man
hanging. All these are fully and elegantly described. The Duke thus
armed hastens to Brussels.

BOOK IX.

The Duke is received at Brussels by the King of the Netherlands with
great magnificence. He is informed of the approach of the armies of all
the confederate kings. The poet, however, with a laudable zeal for
the glory of his country, completely passes over the exploits of the
Austrians in Italy, and the discussions of the congress. England
and France, Wellington and Napoleon, almost exclusively occupy his
attention. Several days are spent at Brussels in revelry. The English
heroes astonish their allies by exhibiting splendid games, similar to
those which draw the flower of the British aristocracy to Newmarket and
Moulsey Hurst, and which will be considered by our descendants with
as much veneration as the Olympian and Isthmian contests by classical
students of the present time. In the combat of the cestus, Shaw, the
lifeguardsman, vanquishes the Prince of Orange, and obtains a bull as a
prize. In the horse-race, the Duke of Wellington and Lord Uxbridge ride
against each other; the Duke is victorious, and is rewarded with twelve
opera-girls. On the last day of the festivities, a splendid dance takes
place, at which all the heroes attend.

BOOK X.

Mars, seeing the English army thus inactive, hastens to rouse Napoleon,
who, conducted by Night and Silence, unexpectedly attacks the Prussians.
The slaughter is immense. Napoleon kills many whose histories and
families are happily particularised. He slays Herman, the craniologist,
who dwelt by the linden-shadowed Elbe, and measured with his eye the
skulls of all who walked through the streets of Berlin. Alas! his own
skull is now cleft by the Corsican sword. Four pupils of the University
of Jena advance together to encounter the Emperor; at four blows he
des