A crowd, both lay and clerical, did pounce

Upon the expected wonder-off'rings made Of golden pap-boats, swaddling clothes, gilt cradles, Lac'd caps, and damask clouts, gold bells and rattles!

XLIX.

And much more treasure on the virgin's lap

Was shower'd by modern "wise ones from the East;" Aye! West-North-South, to see the little chap Come forth, they flock'd; nor was it in the least Doubted that their "new dispensation" trap Would bring forth new emoluments to priest. Thousands were ready to forsake Messiah For a stale virgin;1 who turned out—a liar.

L.

She turned out nothing more-The time did pass,
Not even a mouse the mountain did bring forth.
Th' imposture was proclaimed,—each pious ass
Hid his long-polished ears and skulk'd.—Alas!
That men of education, sense, and worth,

Should follow a fanatic hoax, and class Themselves among the "fools whose wisdom's folly;" (According to the text of sapient Solly).

LI.

But what "fool's folly"-what fanatic blunder
Is too gross for the multitude, call'd "swinish ?"
E'en Irving's "babes and sucklings" were a wonder,
When mouthing forth their most admir'd gibberish
For "unknown tongues!" and crowds with joy sat under

Johanna Southcot's shiloh, and her sect
Are things which in this country don't strike
The public mind,- -so few are the elect;
And the new births of both their stale virginities
Have proved but dropsies taken for divinities.

Don Juan, canto iii. stanza 95.

The sound of sublime nonsense,1 in their oafish
Desire for "some new thing!"-The cunning spirit
Of humbug ne'er lets slip a scheme to visit
The victim's purse, and dip his fingers in it!

LII.

"A plague on this digression !"-Led away

By thoughts that cross our path; contemplative,
Our careless muse delights to go astray;

Impatient of control-insinuative

She flits from gay to grave-from grave to gay;
And as this humour purely is elective,

WE here command that our ten million readers
Declare her free,-ne'er mind a few seceders.

LIII.

Can any tell us how doth love progress?

How is it first "begot, how nourished ?"

Is it the child of Friendship!" Aye"-"no"-"yes."
All may be right, but Friendship never bred
Without some impregnation, as we guess.

Whether 'tis "in the heart or in the head."2
Male friendships often flourish well together,
But remain friendship still, greeting a brother.

LIV.

And female friendships are in like predicament;
Though warmer they may be, still are they barren :
Like plants, with blossoms beautiful and redolent,
Yet, unsupplied with fructifying pollen,

The "unknown tongues," spoken by the Apostles, were the various languages of the surrounding nations; and only "unknown" to the Apostles themselves previously to that occasion on which they, being Galileans, were miraculously enabled to speak in the language of every person present, of whatever country he might be. See the second chapter of the Acts.

They shed their balmy sweets, consentient
Around each other, till their beauty's fallen.
So friendships fade, and leave no progeny,
But a sad tear in the survivor's eye!

LV.

But male and female friendships coalesce:

Like magnets, with their north and south poles meeting, They rush together, and they needs must kiss.. Fatal fruition! lips with lips so greeting, Become productive of-a deal of bliss

Which won't be told. 'Tis oft, alas! too fleeting. When such friends 'gin to bill, like turtle doves, They're soon converted into full grown loves.

LVI.

And when the transformation is complete,

Love is prolific of unnumber'd joys.

Its blossoms ?-Kisses and endearments sweet.

The fruit?—Why, certain things call'd "girls and

boys;"

For rosy finger'd cupids not unmeet :

The dear-delightful-mischievous love-toys! Thus the world wags, and love will have his waggery, Till we have quite got through his abecedery.

LVII.

Thy origin of Fancy, by the bye,

Oh Shakespear! king of bards, we may apply.
"Fancy"-thou say'st-" is 'gender'd in the eye." 1
Why so is love; and love is but a fancy—
A dangerous sweetmeat (if the truth we can see).

1 "Tell me where is fancy bred,

Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply,

It is engender'd in the eye," etc.-Shakespear.

A Jack o'lantern-a bewildering maze ;
Making its slave a kind of mental sot!
Bewitching oft the lovers fever'd gaze,

That, fever-like, doth fancy what is not,
And softens that which is to beauty's guise,
While, "we make babies in each other's eyes."l

LVIII.

As well may mortals without oxygen
Breathe of heav'n's air-fire without heat-
Thunder without the light'ning, as for men

And women in sweet converse e'er to meet

Without some danger of—Faith! ye maun ken
What that same danger is-we winna greet
For that the meenister says we maun smither
Our feelings, nor be longing for each ither.

LIX.

Nature cries out anent their dolt glib-gabbet;
Nae doot they're unco fash'd aboot our welfare,
But we maun tell 'em, love is sic a habit,

They'll get nae converts to their drowsy chanter Their whig meleeries are sae unco cribbit.?

They're bummlers a’- we care na for their clatter. Gie us a lassie that wi heart an' han'

Will meet a bonnie lad, an' mak' him her guid mon.

LX.

Let us proceed, and leave our northern friends
To their peculiar primitive opinions,

"Thus in our looks some propagation lies,

For we make babies in each other's eyes."-Moore.

2 But I gae mad at their grimaces,

Their sighan, cantan, grace-proud faces,

Their three-mile prayers, and hauf-mile graces,
Their razan conscience

Wha's greed, revenge, an' pride disgraces

Waur nor their nonsense.--Burns.

While we, to further our own private ends,

Pursue our sage enquiry. There are millions Will side with us, whether or no they're friends;

And, could we but come at them, there are trillions. Love at first sight (if analyse we must),

Is oft compos'd of prejudice and lust

LXI.

In various proportions.-Who says no?

Love can't exist (as some, who know as much
Of nature as a broomstick wish to show),
At all, without a certain lurking smutch
Upon its snowy purity—a glow

Of latent, fond desire, that fain would clutch
Its dear ideal perfection, spite of prudence,
Whose whisperings oft gain but little credence.

LXII.

That love's like prejudice we all must know.
Few will deny that prejudice is blind,
And so is love, most obstinately so.

Parents complain that "love will not hear reason;" No more will prejudice, although you mow

Down all her arguments like grass i' the season. Your scythe cuts but the heads off-roots remain, And, hydra-like, the heads spring up again.

LXIII.

Thus, love is rooted in the human heart,

And soon or late it will spring up, like cresses; Pungent and fresh, and able to impart

A wholesome relish to the world's distresses ; A panacea, curing many a smart

That love alone can soothe with its caresses. How else has human patience 'dur'd so long, Under oppression's arbitrary thong.