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ANACREON IN BOW STREET.
thought worthy of analysis. Professor Perceval, still bigotted to his theory, is endeavouring to demonstrate this phenomenon synthetically: Dr. Grenville and Dr. Grey have given it as their decided opinion, that it is impossible.
Although we certainly respect the ingenuity of Professor Perceval, which was so successfully exerted in the famous York analysis, we must be allowed to say, that we have met with nothing in the annals of science, since the time of the alchymists, so visionary as his speculations.
RESIGNATION OF ADMIRAL
ON THE RUMOURED
[From the County Chronicle, Nov. 28.]
I'm sick of the service-so tell the Grand Duke,
ANACREON IN BOW STREET.
Θελω λεγειν Ατρειδας.-One Ι.
AS, rapt, I sweep the golden lyre,
To Love I cry, "My notes inspire,
HORACE IN LONDON,
The soul of Harmony is dead,
To shrieking owls are turn'd my doves,
HORACE IN LONDON.-BOOK II. ODE I.
TO MR. KEMBLE.
[From the Monthly Mirror.]
Motum ex Metello consule civicum, &c.
IN battles provok'd by the blood-tainted Thane,
When fortune deserts the poor lunatic Dane,
The wreath of applause what philosopher scorns?
Awhile to your theatre now bid adieu !
Attempt not your truncheon and staff to renew,
For, hark! what a discord of bugles and bells,
What screaming, and groaning, and hissing, and yells,
To scuffles, rows, riots, and battles!
* I find that Horace makes particular mention of the O. P.'s, and the noise they made in Rome:
"Opes strepitumque Romæ."-OD. LIB. III. 29.
My old friend, the late Mr. Opie, was a man of celebrity: but he never made half so much noise in the world as any one of his numerous relations.
ON THE UPROAR AT COVENT GARDEN.
And now from the barracks of Bow Street, good lack!
Wave high their gilt staffs, while the dull sounding thwack
The Billingsgate Muses, indignant to find
What surly Brown Bear has not gladly receiv'd
At Bow Street what Knight is not sorely aggriev'd,
To mix in this warfare, regardless of fear,
But gently, my Muse: hush your angry-ton'd lyre,
And, seated at home by your own parlour-fire,
ON THE NIGHTLY UPROAR AT COVENT GARDEN.
[From the same.]
UR writers dramatic must welcome, of course,
And long-sinking dialogue 's finally drown'd.
Let them join the loud dunces in Boxes and Pit,
Of clamour and nonsense the instruments willing, Who care not a shilling for genius or wit,
And whose own is confin'd to their care of a shilling, And yet these curmudgeons, who willingly waste
Half a guinea (the Opera's worth it, no doubt!) Must be wanting in thrift, or deficient in taste,
Must be asses with ears, or be spendthrifts without: Half a guinea for singers and shallow-pate scrapers,
Whose resin, not reason, provides them with meals!:
Whose toe 's in his head, and his head in his heels!!
And seem to the Stage what ye act in the Pit.
O Venus, regina Cnidi Paphique, &c.
VENUS, Queen of Drury Lane!
But patronize our Private Boxes.
To Hart Street lead the London Graces,
With bosoms bare, and brazen faces.
*The Opera House Poet.
THE OXFORD CHANCELLORSHIP.
IT seems a curious circumstance, that the respective friends of Lords Eldon and Grenville are, on the ensuing election at Oxford, to be entertained, the former at the King's Arms, the latter at the sign of the Cross. Upon this subject I send you the following
WOULD you judge of each candidate's motives and ends,
The King's Arms will receive the Lord Chancellor's friends,
Thus the realm lost a patriot for uprightness noted;
LETTER TO THE EARL CN, &c. &c. &c. [From the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 2.] Gloucester Lodge, Nov. 14, 1809.
T you an answer, my Lord, I of late meant, Directly your Lordship had publish'd your statement; But I kept it, by Pd's good Duke to be read, Which I cannot accomplish-because he is dead.
So I now shall expunge, with most scrupulous hands,