Three choice Mrs. Nortons, all singing like syrens, While most of our pallid young clerks are Lord Byrons.

Then we've ** *s and ***s (for whom there's small

call),

And ***s and ***s (for whom no call at all).

In short, whosoe'er the last "Lion" may be,
We've a Bottom who'll copy his roar* to a T,

And so well, that not one of the buyers who've got 'em

Can tell which is lion, and which only Bottom.

N.B.

The company, since they set up in this line, Have mov'd their concern, and are now at the sign Of the Muse's Velocipede, Fleet Street, where all Who wish well to the scheme are invited to call.

"Bottom: Let me play the lion; I will roar you as 'twere any nightingale."

SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LATE DINNER TO DAN.

FROM tongue to tongue the rumour flew ;
All ask'd, aghast, "Is't true? is't true?"
But none knew whether 'twas fact or fable:

And still the unholy rumour ran,

From Tory woman to Tory man,

Though none to come at the truth was able

Till, lo, at last, the fact came out,

The horrible fact, beyond all doubt,

That Dan had din'd at the Viceroy's table;

Had flesh'd his Popish knife and fork

In the heart of th' Establish'd mutton and pork!

Who can forget the deep sensation

That news produc'd in this orthodox nation?
Deans, rectors, curates, all agreed,

If Dan was allow'd at the Castle to feed,

'Twas clearly all up with the Protestant creed!

There hadn't, indeed, such an apparition
Been heard of, in Dublin, since that day
When, during the first grand exhibition

Of Don Giovanni, that naughty play,
There appear'd, as if rais'd by necromancers,
An extra devil among the dancers!
Yes-ev'ry one saw, with fearful thrill,

That a devil too much had join'd the quadrille *;
And sulphur was smelt, and the lamps let fall
A grim, green light o'er the ghastly ball,
And the poor sham dev'ls didn't like it at all;

For, they knew from whence th' intruder had come,
Though he left, that night, his tail at home.

This fact, we see, is a parallel case

To the dinner that, some weeks since, took place.
With the difference slight of fiend and man,

It shows what a nest of Popish sinners
That city must be, where the devil and Dan
May thus drop in, at quadrilles and dinners!

But, mark the end of these foul proceedings,
These demon hops and Popish feedings.

* History of the Irish Stage.

Some comfort 'twill be-to those, at least,
Who've studied this awful dinner question-
To know that Dan, on the night of that feast,
Was seiz'd with a dreadful indigestion ;
That envoys were sent, post-haste, to his priest,
To come and absolve the suffering sinner,
For eating so much at a heretic dinner;

And some good people were even afraid
That Peel's old confectioner—still at the trade-
Had poison'd the Papist with orangeade.

NEW HOSPITAL FOR SICK LITERATI.

WITH all humility we beg

To inform the public, that Tom Tegg-
Known for his spunky speculations,

In buying up dead reputations,
And, by a mode of galvanizing

Which, all must own, is quite surprising,
Making dead authors move again,

As though they still were living men ;

All this, too, manag'd, in a trice,

By those two magic words,

"Half Price,"

Which brings the charm so quick about,

That worn-out poets, left without
A second foot whereon to stand,

Are made to go at second hand;
"Twill please the public, we repeat,

To learn that Tegg, who works this feat,
And, therefore, knows what care it needs

To keep alive Fame's invalids,
Has oped an Hospital, in town,
For cases of knock'd-up renown-