AN AN-TEA ANACREONTIC.—No. 3.

ΕΙΣ ΛΥΡΑΝ.

Apollo! ere the adverse fates

Gave thy lyre to Mr. Yates²2. This celebrated instrument now crowns the chaste yet elaborate front of the Adelphi Theatre, where full-length effigies of Mr. and Mrs. Yates may be seen silently inviting the public to walk in.,

I have melted at thy strain

When Bunn reign’d o’er Drury-lane;

For the music of thy strings

Haunts the ear when Romer sings.

But to me that voice is mute!

Tuneless kettle-drum and flute

I but hear one liquid lyre—

Kettle bubbling on the fire,

Whizzing, fizzing, steaming out

Music from its curved spot,

Wak’ning visions by its song

Of thy nut-brown streams, Souchong;

Lumps of crystal saccharine—

Liquid pearl distill’d from kine;

Nymphs whose gentle voices mingle

With the silver tea-spoons’ jingle!

Symposiarch I o’er all preside,

The Pidding of the fragrant tide.

Such the dreams that fancy brings,

When my tuneful kettle sings!