Dog-Day Reflections. By A Dandy Kept In Town.

"vox clamantis in deserto."     Said Malthus one day to a clown         Lying stretched on the beach in the sun,--     "What's the number of souls in this town?"--         "The number! Lord bless you, there's none.     "We have nothing but dabs in this place,         "Of them a great plenty there are;--     But the soles, please your reverence and grace,         "Are all t'other side of the bar."     And so 'tis in London just now,         Not a soul to be seen up or down;--     Of dabs? a great glut, I allow,         But your soles, every one, out of town.     East or west nothing wondrous or new,         No courtship or scandal worth knowing;     Mrs. B---, and a Mermaid[1] or two,         Are the only loose fish that are going.     Ah, where is that dear house of Peers         That some weeks ago kept us merry?     Where, Eldon, art thou with thy tears?     And thou with thy sense, Londonderry?     Wise Marquis, how much the Lord Mayor,         In the dog-days, with thee must be puzzled!--     It being his task to take care         That such animals shan't go unmuzzled.     Thou too whose political toils         Are so worthy a captain of horse--     Whose amendments[2] (like honest Sir Boyle's)         Are "amendments, that make matters worse;"[3]     Great Chieftain, who takest such pains         To prove--what is granted, nem. con.--     With how moderate a portion of brains         Some heroes contrive to get on.     And thou too my Redesdale, ah! where         Is the peer with a star at his button,     Whose quarters could ever compare         With Redesdale's five quarters of mutton?[4]     Why, why have ye taken your flight,         Ye diverting and dignified crew?     How ill do three farces a night,         At the Haymarket, pay us for you!     For what is Bombastes to thee,         My Ellenbro', when thou look'st big     Or where's the burletta can be         Like Lauderdale's wit and his wig?     I doubt if even Griffinhoof[5] could         (Tho' Griffin's a comical lad)     Invent any joke half so good         As that precious one, "This is too bad!"     Then come again, come again Spring!         Oh haste thee, with Fun in thy train;     And--of all things the funniest--bring         These exalted Grimaldis again!