This tolerance, rare from a shrine-dealer's lip
(Tho' a tolerance mixt with due taste for the till)—
So much charmed all the holders of scriptural scrip,
That their shouts of "Hear!" "Hear!" are re-echoing still.
Fourth edition.
Great stir in the Shrine Market! altars to Phoebus
Are going dog-cheap—may be had for a rebus.
Old Dian's, as usual, outsell all the rest;—
But Venus's also are much in request.
[1] "For a certain man named Demetrius, a silversmith, which made shrines for Diana, brought no small gain unto the craftsmen: whom he called together with the workmen of like occupation, and said, Sirs, ye know that by this craft we have our wealth[…to be completed…
[2] The "shrines" are supposed to have been small churches, or chapels, adjoining to the great temples.
LATEST ACCOUNTS FROM OLYMPUS.
As news from Olympus has grown rather rare,
Since bards, in their cruises, have ceased to touch there,
We extract for our readers the intelligence given,
In our latest accounts from that ci-devant Heaven—
That realm of the By-gones, where still sit in state
Old god-heads and nod-heads now long out of date.
Jove himself, it appears, since his love-days are o'er,
Seems to find immortality rather a bore;
Tho' he still asks for news of earth's capers and crimes,
And reads daily his old fellow-Thunderer, the Times.
He and Vulcan, it seems, by their wives still hen-peckt are,
And kept on a stinted allowance of nectar.
Old Phoebus, poor lad, has given up inspiration,
And packt off to earth on a puff speculation.
The fact is, he found his old shrines had grown dim,
Since bards lookt to Bentley and Colburn, not him.
So he sold off his stud of ambrosia-fed nags.
Came incog. down to earth, and now writes for the Mags;
Taking care that his work not a gleam hath to linger in't,
From which men could guess that the god had a finger in't.
There are other small facts, well deserving attention,
Of which our Olympic despatches make mention.
Poor Bacchus is still very ill, they allege,
Having never recovered the Temperance Pledge.
"What, the Irish!" he cried—"those I lookt to the most!
"If they give up the spirit, I give up the ghost:"
While Momus, who used of the gods to make fun,
Is turned Socialist now and declares there are none!