We'll throw a better light still on the science,
And try to shut their mouths with fresh details.
I think the mystic state they call Clairvoyance
May crush all doubt, if any doubt prevails,
And keep the cav❜ling critic at defiance

With all that sophistry which truth assails;
However subtle, factious, or dogmatical,

We'll show them proofs as good as mathema tical.

The state to which allusion has been made,
Confers the faculty called second-sighted;
A sort of omnipresence, it is said,

Possesses minds, no matter how benighted,
By which the patient often has repaid

The doubting, curious, and all much-delighted, By scenes, events, and actions all detailing, Which, far or near, were at the time prevailing.

One instance out of many late transpired

In London, of a warehouse waggish boy,
Which proved to all, as if he were inspired,

Describing scenes, events, and many a ploy
To those who saw him; when they had desired,
He gave details, which all seemed to enjoy,
Of things on which before he never gazed,
With such intelligence as all amazed.

That ancient, sacred, venerable dome,

Where blasted worth and merit lie inurned;

Where heroes, patriots, side by side consume With conquerors, from bloody fields returned; Where senators and sages find a tomb

'Mong poets, who their midnight lamp have burned:

He saw, described, and read each flattering stone, And many a marble statue dwelt upon.

Then from Westminster Abbey took a range
Throughout a number of the public places-
Saw what was doing in the Royal Exchange,
Then to the British Museum next he paces:
There noted many objects passing strange,

And sketched the heathen gods' romantic faces; Reviewed the House of Commons, Tower, and

shows,

And fifty other things we may suppose.

'Tis needless thus on one so much descanting, When numbers equally attention claim;

Whose names, without that vulgar sin of vaunting,

Are rich emblazoned on the page of Fame: At home, ay, at our doors, they are not wanting, Who from experience can attest the same: And who on earth can contradict this teacher, Although at times one may dispute a preacher ?

'Twas recently one being in this state

Saw every act a neighbour then was doing:

His motions, movements, all he did narrate,

With purposes and ends he was pursuing; Though separate between by distance great, Yet never intercepted was his viewing:

Some say his glance, upon such strange occasions,

Pervades even Nature's secret operations.

Hence to a certainty he can discover
The origin and cause of all diseases,
How latent, simple, virulent soever,
And all their operations, when he pleases;
A lecture to the patient he'll deliver,

How any one the various organs seizes;
That subtle miner, obstinate consumption,
He clearly sees, which fools may think presump-

tion.

Another, under this mysterious spell
Asleep, unconscious too of all around,
From any watch the very hour will tell,
And to all colours will a name be found.
When he the various things has fumbled well,
This shall be true, and for it I'll be bound:
While from the voice he'll any stranger name,
Or shaking hands, I've heard he'll do the same.

With fifty other nameless feats, they say,
Which cannot possibly obtain insertion,

As Rhyme's capricious whims we must obey,
And work by wiles, but never by coercion:
Besides, it would be tedious; but I pray

Make not these truths your topics for diversion;

As children milk, implicitly receive them—
None, save a simpleton, would disbelieve them.

You've had the various facts all clearly stated—
This puzzling problem honestly dissected,
Its leading features logically narrated,

Its different items narrowly inspected;

But should your brain with doubts be still inflated,

By reason may your views be soon corrected: Let reason, candour, coolness, be your guide, I'll pawn my honour, for it you'll decide.

Hence, reader, I am tired, and so are you;

No doubt you think we both have had enoughIt is agreed then, to our thread adieu,

Home-spun and long, you see, and rather rough. Perhaps you judge its merits are but few,

Then with your sweeping censure call it stuff: But oh beware of such foul profanation, Which might provoke your Poet's imprecation!

But judge and censure, damn it, if you please,
With criticizing eloquence like thunder;

Ay, on each slip like famished vulture seize,
And trumpet loud its every trivial blunder.
I'm independent, perfectly at ease,

No public obligation being under;
Then, Mesmerism, from me go thy ways-
Receive thy verdict, be it blame or praise.