18
Who brags of Cockney trips to Palestine
A feat as simple as ascend the Rhine,
Munchausen fires his shots in far Darfur
“Hic niger est”—too sceptical far Moor.—
Come peerless parson, to my lesson lest
’Cute cyclone circler, sage, geologist———
The North Shore witlings may behold ’tis true
A Lyell or a Murchison in you
Or, in St. Leonard’s Sunday fervour feel
In pulpit eloquence, you beat McNeil
When Moses struck the rock with rod of old
Water gushed forth—yours, yields us virgin gold.
While savans differ as to divers sorts,
Believe that rock, the patronyme of quartz———
More versatile than Moses in your way
Break rocks, commandments, or prescribe to pray.
Do! churlish churchman double U.B.C.
Don’t strive to prove the World’s Directory
Newton, self-styled a child upon the shore
Collecting pebbles; you are far before———
Map unknown spheres, control the Comet’s course
And brand the winged Pegasus your horse———
Bleak house blears blindly o’er Eliza’s Bay
Chill as the owner’s hospitality
No music there save weeping willows sigh,
And wavelets ripple murm’ring lullaby,
Chance pic nic pilgrim[1], seeking scallop shell
Draws down in dudgeon this high Admiral.
“Flotsom and jetsom on these shores are mine,
Hark to my deep mouthed bloodhounds sanguine whine”—
Too selfish, greedy, puffy, and effete
For Council squabbles or a world’s debate
This Hermit next appears upon my list,
Oh, tiresome twaddle of the naturalist
- ↑ I leave to the Antiquary to decipher the ancient badge of the Pilgrim Fathers of N.S.W. An arrow head with the letters P B over B O under.
