In the pictures from Walther Scott, never a fault there's got, And the Chamber Pompayen is sweet to take tay in, There's landscapes by Gruner, both solar and lunar, Wid de piece by young Townsend, (for janius abounds in't ;) That picture of Severn's is worthy of rever❜nce, O to praise this Pavilion would puzzle Quintilian, THE CRYSTAL PALACE. WITH ganial foire Thransfuse me loyre, Ye sacred nympths of Pindus, That wondthrous thing, The Palace made o' windows! Say, Paxton, truth, Thou wondthrous youth, What sthroke of art celistial, What power was lint You to invint This combineetion cristial. O would before That Thomas Moore, Likewoise the late Lord Boyron, Thim aigles sthrong Of godlike song, Cast oi on that cast oiron! And saw thim walls, And glittering halls, Thim rising slendther columns, Here come likewise Her bould allies, Both Asian and Europian; From East and West They send their best I seen (thank Grace!) That gave the pass, And let me see what is there). With conscious proide I stud insoide And look'd the World's Great Fair in, Until me sight Was dazzled quite, And couldn't see for staring. There's holy saints And window paints, There's fountains there And crosses fair; There's water-gods with urrns; There's organs three, To play, d'ye see, "God save the Queen," by turrns. There's Statues bright Of marble white, Of silver, and of copper; |