« FöregåendeFortsätt »
“Down with all sinecures oppressors madeRemove restrictions—let us have free trade."
You see how well this bump has operated
I wonder how he made so fine a close.
Above a blockhead's, everybody knows;
When such high patriotic feelings rose.
But for a change-I hope it is no crime
We'll touch on Veneration by the way, And gently scan it at the present time,
See how it tickles one and all to pray, How fluently they mount the true sublime;
While those around a wondering tribute pay, When thus they see such mystic reformation Wrought on all classes, every rank and station.
One instance shall I cite, but pass the name,
As personalities are rather glaring. All know my hero has an honest fame; Tho' charged with scoffing, and the crime of
swearing, Good neighbourhood with truth can scarcely
claimHeaven knows if this would not be rather daring.
But Veneration being put in motion,
Enough to melt the adamantine heart
That would repel the shocks of triple steel, And to it glowing sympathy impart;
And make it for the woes of others feel,
And to itself its turpitude reveal.
Another feature of this noble science,
Unparalleled and far outruuning praise,
And well might any drooping spirit raise;
The patient yields in soul-transporting lays,
We'll add another to this chosen sample,
I mean the bump the wise call Self-Esteem; All must acknowledge that its powers are ample,
And of its exhibitions few could dream. Though sceptics sneer, and wits may on it trample,
And sunshine truths as gross delusion deem; Yet truth's omnipotent, and demonstration Steps kindly in, to prove my asseveration.
Therefore, believe me, or believe me not,
Just as you will—I little for it care; But this I know, that lately many sought
To see the proofs, who living witness bear, And testify a rustic first was brought,
With sluggish step, and many a vacant stare, High in this bump, though all as false esteeming, The grand mesmeric facts deception deeming.
But being gently operated on,
He held the ploughs and harrows in derision; No more from toil and labour now to groan, But from the slave had made a blessed transi
tion; Disdained the vulgar, plain, blunt name of John,
And smiling, strutted in perspective vision Of honours which would soon his talents crown, Whose lustre tended but to show the clown.
The next that figured spends his time in mending,
Whose only care is all about the sole, And to conditions kindly condescending,
He cut some pretty capers on the whole;
Of energies which nothing could control-
No matter what—a prodigy self-styled,
And many quirks and quibbles could explain;
In art and science never was beguiled
His cogent, powerful, penetrating brain;
Anil fixed upon them many a filthy stain.
But courteous reader, pardon, should I blunder,
By introducing just another more:
As all declare it fully worth a score;
He sees, in fact, what he ne'er saw before-
I hate a laboured, drawling, dull description,
And, by my Muse, detest the least confusion; Irregularity in truth or fiction,
Is the cursed ignis fatuus to conclusion;
And show a little of this damned delusion;
And let him have it, yes, I him defend,
As well dispute what's seen in dreams or trances, Which all believe, though fools may here con
tend; Then don't exempt your Poet from these fancies. Let this be as it may, disputes to end.
One saw, of late, plays, operas, and dances, Where nobles, heroes, gallants, lovers floated, And twenty stones of royal lumber noted.
His wooden looks, in vain from furies flying,
With garments reeking in the blood of nations; The cotton-spinner's son, for mercy crying
To plundered millions, by unjust taxations,
And failed at last all reconciliations.
Next in prophetic vision was displayed
A mighty and gigantic spreading tree, Whose golden apples annually betrayed
The fertile soil that round about it be. The care immense its pious keepers paid,
It having cost two millions to the free, Who walked beneath its shady branches bent, Chanting the notes of Freedom as they went.
Whom Truth makes free are Freedom's sons in
deed: Heaven prosper all who are from conscience so! As conscience stamps the value on our creed,
The oracle of God to man below,
In spite of all the adverse winds that blow