Full many a feat
  Did Hercules neat,
  The least our credit draws on;
  Jesting Momus, so sly,
  Said, “’Tis all my eye,”
  And he call’d him Baron Munchausen.

  Fair Bacchus’s face
  Many signs did grace,
  (They were not painted by Zeuxis:)
  Of his brewing trade
  He a mystery made,[6]
  Like our Calverts and our Meuxes.

  There was Mistress Venus,
  (I say it between us,)
  For virtue cared not a farden: 
  There never was seen
  Such a drabbish quean
  In the parish of Covent Garden.

  Hermes cunning
  Poor Argus funning,
  He made him drink like a buffer;
  To his great surprise
  Sew’d up all his eyes,
  And stole away his heifer.

  A bar-maid’s place
  Was Hebe’s grace,
  Till Jupiter did trick her;
  He turn’d her away,
  And made Ganimede stay
  To pour him out his liquor.

  Ceres in life
  Was a farmer’s wife,
  But she doubtless kept a jolly house;
  For Rumour speaks,
  She was had by the Beaks
  To swear her son Triptolemus.[7]

  Miss Proserpine
  She thought herself fine,
  But when all her plans miscarried,
  She the Devil did wed,
  And took him to bed,
  Sooner than not be married.

But the worst of the gods,
Beyond all odds,
It cannot be denied, oh! 
Is that first of matchmakers,
That prince of housebreakers,
The urchin, Dan Cupido.

New Monthly Magazine.

[4] “I’ll search out the haunts
Of your fav’rite gallants,
And into cows metamorphose ’em.”

[5] Apollo Smintheus.  He destroyed a great many rats in Phrygia,
and was probably the first “rat-catcher to the King.”—­Vet. 
Schol.

[6] “Mystica vannus Isacchi.”  This was either a porter-brewer’s
dray, or more probably the Van of his druggist.—­Scriblerus.

[7] There is some difference of opinion concerning this fact:  the lady, like so many others in her interesting situation, passed through the adventure under an alias.  But that Ceres and Terra were the same, no reasonable person will doubt:  and there can be no serious objection to the little trip being thus ascribed to the goddess in question.—­Scriblerus.

* * * * *

“THE SEASON” IN TOWN.

Theodore.—­I don’t know how you could prevent people from living half the year in town.

Tickler.—­I have no objection to their living half the year in town, as you call it, if they can live in such a hell upon earth, of dust, noise, and misery.  Only think of the Dolphin water in the solar microscope!

Theodore.—­I know nothing of the water of London personally.

Odoherty.—­Nor I; but I take it, we both have a notion of its brandy and water.