XII.

But I'll not dream such dreams of ill-- Rather will I believe thee still Safe cellar'd in the snow,-- Reciting many a gallant story, Of British kings and British glory, To crony Esquimaux--

XIII.

Cheering that dismal game where Night Makes one slow move from black to white Thro' all the tedious year,-- Or smitten by some fond frost fair, That comb'd out crystals from her hair, Wooing a seal-skin dear!

XIV.

So much a long communion tends, As Byron says, to make us friends With what we daily view-- God knows the daintiest taste may come To love a nose that's like a plum In marble, cold and blue!

XV.

To dote on hair, an oily fleece!

As tho' it hung from Helen o' Greece-- They say that love prevails Ev'n in the veriest polar land-- And surely she may steal thy hand That used to steal thy nails!

XVI.

But ah, ere thou art fixed to marry, And take a polar Mrs. Parry, Think of a six months' gloom-- Think of the wintry waste, and hers, Each furnish'd with a dozen _furs_, Think of thine icy _dome_!

XVII.

Think of the children born to _blubber_!

Ah me! hast thou an Indian rubber Inside!--to hold a meal For months,--about a stone and half Of whale, and part of a sea calf-- A fillet of salt veal!--

XVIII.

Some walrus ham--no trifle but A decent steak--a solid cut Of seal--no wafer slice!

A reindeer's tongue and drink beside!

Gallons of sperm--not rectified!

And pails of water-ice!

XIX.

Oh, canst thou fast and then feast thus?

Still come away, and teach to us Those blessed alternations-- To-day to run our dinners fine, To feed on air and then to dine With Civic Corporations--

XX.

To save th' Old Bailey daily shilling, And then to take a half-year's filling In P.N.'s pious Row-- When ask'd to Hock and haunch o' ven'son, Thro' something we have worn our pens on For Longman and his Co.

XXI.

O come and tell us what the Pole is-- Whether it singular and sole is,-- Or straight, or crooked bent,-- If very thick or very thin,-- Made of what wood--and if akin To those there be in Kent?

XXII.

There's Combe, there's Spurzheim, and there's Gall, Have talk'd of poles--yet, after all, What has the public learn'd?

And Hunt's account must still defer,-- He sought the _poll_ at Westminster-- And is not yet _return'd_!

XXIII.

Alvanly asks if whist, dear soul, Is play'd in snow-towns near the Pole, And how the fur-man deals?

And Eldon doubts if it be true, That icy Chancellors really do Exist upon the _seals_!

XXIV.

Barrow, by well-fed office grates, Talks of his own bechristen'd Straits, And longs that he were there; And Croker, in his cabriolet, Sighs o'er his brown horse, at his Bay, And pants to cross the _mer_!

XXV.

O come away, and set us right, And, haply, throw a northern light On questions such as these:-- Whether, when this drown'd world was lost.

The surflux waves were lock'd in frost, And turned to Icy Seas!

XXVI.

Is Ursa Major white or black?

Or do the Polar tribes attack Their neighbors--and what for?

Whether they ever play at cuffs, And then, if they take off their muffs In pugilistic war?

XXVII.

Tells us, is _Winter_ champion there, As in our milder fighting air?

Say, what are _Chilly_ loans?

What cures they have for rheums beside, And if their hearts get ossified From eating bread of bones?

XXVIII.

Whether they are such dwarfs--the quicker To circulate the vital liquor,-- And then, from head to heel-- How short the Methodists must choose Their dumpy envoys not to lose Their toes in spite of zeal?

XXIX.