Part 26 (2/2)
With antique and with modern lore!
I rush from Bosphorus to Po-- To Nilus from the Nore.
Why were thy Pyramids, O Egypt! rais'd, But to be measur'd, and be prais'd?
Avaunt, ye Crocodiles! your threats are vain!
On Norway's seas, my soul, unshaken, Brav'd the Sea-Snake and the Craken!
And shall I heed the River's scaly train?
Afric, I scorn thy Alligator band!
Quadrant in hand I take my stand, And eye thy moss-clad needle, Cleopatra grand!
O, that great Pompey's pillar were my own!
Eighty-eight feet the shaft, and all one stone!
But hail, ye lost Athenians!
Hail also, ye Armenians!
Hail once, ye Greeks, ye Romans, Carthagenians!
Twice hail, ye Turks, and thrice, ye Abyssinians!
Hail too, O Lapland, with thy squirrels airy!
Hail, Commerce-catching Tipperary!
Hail, wonder-working Magi!
Hail, Ouran-Outangs! Hail, Anthropophagi!
Hail, all ye cabinets of every state, From poor Marino's Hill, to Catherine's Empire great!
All have their chiefs, who-speak, who write, who seem to think, _Caermarthens, Sydneys, Rutlands_, paper, pens, and ink;
IV.
Thus, through all climes, to earth's remotest goal, From burning Indus to the freezing Pole, In chaises and on floats, In dillies, and in boats; Now on a camel's native stool; Now on an a.s.s, now on a mule.
Nabobs and Rajahs have I seen; Old Bramins mild, young Arabs keen: Tall Polygars, Dwarf Zemindars, Mahommed's tomb, Killarney's lake, the fane of Ammon, With all thy Kings and Queens, ingenious Mrs. Salmon[1]: Yet vain the majesties of wax!
Vain the cut velvet on their backs---- GEORGE, mighty GEORGE, is flesh and blood---- No head he wants of wax or wood!
His heart is good!
(As a King's should) And every thing he says is understood!
[1] Exhibits the Wax-work, in Fleet-Street.
_NUMBER X._
ODE FOR NEW-YEAR'S-DAY,
_By_ SIR GREGORY PAGE TURNER, BART. M.P.
Lord Warden of Blackheath, and Ranger of Greenwich Hill, during the Christmas and Easter Holidays.
STROPHE.
O day of high career!
First of a month--nay more--first of a year!
A _monarch-day_, that hath indeed no peer!
Let huge _Buzaglos_ glow In ev'ry corner of the isle, To melt away the snow: And like to _May_, Be this month gay; And with her at hop--step--jump--play, Dance, grin, and smile: Ye too, ye _Maids of Honour_, young and old, Shall each be seen, With a neat _warming_ patentiz'd _machine_!
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