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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"


In short, whosoe'er the last "Lion" may be,
We've a Bottom who'll copy his _roar_[2] 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 moved 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.

[1] "'Tis money makes the mare to go."
[2] "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 rumor flew;
All askt, aghast, "Is't true? is't true?"
But none knew whether 'twas fact or fable:
And still the unholy rumor ran,
From Tory woman to Tory man,
Tho' 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 dined at the Viceroy's table;
Had flesht his Popish knife and fork
In the heart of the Establisht mutton and pork!
Who can forget the deep sensation
That news produced in this orthodox nation?
Deans, rectors, curates, all agreed,
If Dan was allowed 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 appeared, as if raised by necromancers,
An _extra_ devil among the dancers!
Yes--every one saw with fearful thrill
That a devil too much had joined the quadrille;
And sulphur was smelt and the lamps let fall
A grim, green light o'er the ghastly ball,
And the poor _sham_ devils didn't like it at all;
For they knew from whence the intruder had come,
Tho' he left, that night, his tail at home.


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