ting 'neath his chin,
With gooseberry eye and ghastly grin,
With mincing steps, conceited phrase,
Such as insipid P- displays:
These are the requisites to shine
A dandy, exquisite, divine.

Ancient Dandies.--A Confession.
The Doctor{*}, as we learn, once said,
To Mistress Thrale--
Howe'er a man be stoutly made,
And free from ail,
In flesh and bone, and colour thrive,
"He's going down at 35."
Yet Horace could his vigour muster
And would not till a later lustre f
One single inch of ground surrender
To any swain in Cupid's calendar.
But one I think a jot too low,
And t'other is too high, I know.
Yet, what I've found, I'll freely state--
The thing may do till.--
But that's a job--for then, in truth,
One's but a clumsy sort of youth:
And maugre looks, some evil tongue
Will say the Dandy is not young:--
For 'mid the yellow and the sear, {**}
Though here and there a leaf be green
No more the summer of the year
It is, than when one swallow's seen.

* Johnson.
t---------------------fuge suspicari
Cujus octavum trepidavit otas
Claudere lustrum.--Od. 4.1. ii.
Now tottering on to forty years,
My age forbids all jealous fears.

** "My May of life is fallen into
the sear and yellow leaf."--Macbeth.

~188~~

Pinch'd in behind and 'fore?
Whose visage, like La Mancha's chief,
Seems the pale frontispiece to grief,
As if 'twould ne'er laugh more:
Whose dress and person both defy
The poet's pen, the painter's eye,
'Tis _outre tout nature_.
His Arab charger swings his tail,
Curvets and prances to the gale
Like Death's pale horse,--
And neighing proudly seems to say,
Here Fashion's vot'ries must pay
Homage of course:
Tis P-h-m, whom Mrs. H-g-s
At opera and play-house dodges
Since he gain'd Josephine;
Tailors adorn a thousand ways,
And (though Time won't) men may make Slays;
The dentist, barber, make repairs,
New teeth supply, and colour hairs;
But art can ne'er return the Spring--
And