Say ere a few short years-who knows how soon? That we may have a trip up to the moon;

And with the Lunites correspondence hold,

And learn the manners and the customs thereTheir modes of life, pursuits both new and oldAnd note them in a journal with much care; Their government and politics unfold,

On which, if Peel would bring his wits to

bear,

His statesman eye might see some better plan,
To rule, than shuffling, gulling all he can.

But politics I never could endure,

So shall I leave them, seeing I've digressed; Then to our subject, for I'm almost sure

Our Lunar visit soon will be no jestGreat Henson's genius seems it to ensure,

And little doubt he knows about it best, Who is constructing, or at least is trying, To frame a vehicle on the plan of flying:

From having one day seen from off a rock
A golden eagle rise and then descend;
Which struck his brain, and gave his wits a poke,
And caused his flaming genius to ascend:
Around whose glare astonished thousands flock-
To gaze and wonder, if not comprehend,

This prodigy quite new, unprecedented,

Which hints some almost thinks he's half demented.

But why insult his occult mystic brain,

Where stores of glorious knowledge lie con

cealed?

His purposes sublime why thus arraign,

Who knows the benefits they yet may yield? Oh! the cold treatment worth and merit gain, Enough to frighten Genius from the field! Ye dull, what more this thing to fly and caper Than any vile balloon of silk or paper?

When the immortal Newton lived and wrote,
That ornament and honour of mankind,
From that dark age his theories how remote !
The truth of his deep reas'nings few could
find;

What wondrous facts to light his genius brought
Which ne'er before flashed o'er the human

mind:

Who ever dreamt the falling of an apple

Would caused him with such mighty laws to grapple;

As those which matter ev'rywhere control-
In heav'n above as well as earth and sea;
Which guide each atom, and unite the whole
In all the compact masses that there be;
Which keep the heav'nly bodies, as they roll,

From contact and confusion ever free-
So that the whole in harmony moves on,
Through fields of vast immensity unknown?

All this was wonderful, extremely clever,
And gained for Newton never-dying fame,
Embalmed his memory to all for ever,

And with an iris crow'd his noble name:
But were he to return, I wonder whether
He could identify this world the same;
At least I'm sure that many would dispute it,
Or own that they were puzzled much about it.

Beyond all doubt, were Socrates to rise,

That sage philosopher of ancient days, And great Archimedes, and Plato wise,

And thence to Albion find their sev'ral ways; How would they gaze, all speechless with surprise, Upon the wonders intellect displays,

Yea, weep like Carfrae, who conducted Park
When he again for England did embark !

But all is shaded that has yet been shown,
Eclipsed beyond what any could conceive,
For passing wise have many lately grown,
And some for gospel all they say receive;
Their talent dazzles, I must freely own,

Though their pretensions fools may disbelieve

The Mesmerites I mean, and now will show 'em
In their true colours in this epic poem.

Well, to our tale, true as my pipe is cocket:
But there's no hurry: reader, me excuse,

And stay until the "dottle" is but smoket.

You know that smoking stimulates the MuseByron says tea; no doubt his Lordship joked;

And Burns the British, alias mountain, dews: But were I umpire in this serious matter, Of all the three, with Burns, I'd choose the latter.

Now for it—that is, Mesmerism, I mean—

Which was discovered, you must understand, At first in Germany, and hence has been

Imported and diffused throughout our land By many an able mouthpiece, as is seen

From bills and placards, which our eyes command

In every town and village, small and great,
By Galt and others now esteemed first-rate.

This science, as some call it, now must claim
Our serious, candid study and attention;
No blushing feeling of half-smothered shame
Can here exist, to mar my good intention.
O surely if it such great heads became

As those above, whom I am proud to mention, It well deserves such care, upon the whole, Though sceptics style it flimsy rigmarole.

They say its states or stages number seven,
With strange conditions which must be obeyed,

So difficult that scarcely under heaven

One can be found who has the trial made;

Such wondrous patience but to few is given,
And such attention as must then be paid,
How would you like to gaze and stare, reply,
For hours together at Galt's beaming eye?

Whose flash is fit to paralyze the brain,
Especially if there's a little crack.

Some think who does it is but barely sane,
Nay, threepence of the shilling must he lack;
But then the orator demonstrates plain,

The human eye's the strongest to attract;

And with Demosthenes who would dare contend,

Whose flippant powers all eulogy transcend?

Or would you choose this penance to forego,
This innocent-like staring at the eye,

A wooden magnet, for they call it so,

Around your cranium he'll politely tie; Then bid you gaze, and on you fan and blow, Which makes the electric fluid from him fly Into your frame, some say, with logic deep: Thus he continues till you fall asleep.

When snoozing fast the oddest scenes commenceScenes entertaining, laughable, and droll, Enough from any Methodist to wrench

The gravest feelings that pervade the soul; Or that calm self-possession, grace, and sense, Which on the bench the sober Judge control;