WHAT IS LONDON’S LAST NEW LION?
WHAT is London’s last new lion? Pray, inform me if you can;
Is’t a woman of Kamschatka or an Otaheite man?
For my conversazione you must send me something new,
Don’t forget me! Oh I sigh for the eclat of a debut!
I am sick of all the “minstrels,” all the “brothers” this and that,
Who sing sweetly at the parties, while the ladies laugh and chat;
And the man who play’d upon his chin is passé, I suppose
So try and find a gentleman who plays upon his nose.
Send half-a-dozen authors, for they help to fill a rout,
I fear I’ve worn the literary lionesses out!
Send something biographical, I think that fashion spreads,
But do not send a poet, till you find one with two heads.
The town has grown fastidious, we do not care a straw
For the whiskers of a bandit, or the tail of a bashaw!
And travellers are out of date, I mean to cut them soon,
Unless you send me some one who has travelled to the moon.
Oh, if you send a singer, he must sing without a throat!
Oh, if you send a player, he must harp upon one note!
I must have something marvellous, the marvel makes the man;
What is London’s last new lion? Pray, inform me if you can.
Thomas Haynes Bayly.