THE KING OF THE DOCTORS.85
ow stately yon palace uplifts its proud head,86
Where Broadway and Barclay Street meet;
Abhorring its old-fashioned tunic of red,
It shines in the lustre of chromate of lead.
And its doors open—into the street!
No longer it rings to the merry sleigh-bells,
The steeds’ gallant neighings are o’er;
Instead of the pitchfork, we meet with scalpels,
And the throne of his medical majesty dwells
Where the horse-trough resided before.
Oh, David! how dreadful and dire was the note,
When Rebellion beleaguered the place,
When the bull-dog of discord unbolted his throat,
And the hot Digitalis87 unbuttoned his coat,
And doubled his fist in your face!
Then Syncope seized thee; all wild with affright
The Lord Chamberlain cried “God defend ye!”
Mac88 swung his shillelah in hopes of a fight,
While the brave Surgeon-General89 exclaimed in delight,
“Pugnatum est arte medendi.”
