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 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, 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