Paul's;--
Tho' 'tis clearly the place where the idolatrous crew
Whom the Rector complained of, their dark rites pursue;
And, 'mong all the "strange gods" Abr'ham's father carved out,[1]
That he ever carv'd _stranger_ than these I much doubt.
Were it even, my dear TULLY, your Hebes and Graces,
And such pretty things, that usurpt the Saints' places,
I shouldn't much mind,--for in this classic dome
Such folks from Olympus would feel quite at home.
But the gods they've got here!--such a queer omnium gatherum
Of misbegot things that no poet would father 'em;--
Britannias in light summer-wear for the skies,--
Old Thames turned to stone, to his no small surprise,--
Father Nile, too,--a portrait, (in spite of what's said,
That no mortal e'er yet got a glimpse of his _head_,)
And a Ganges which India would think somewhat fat for't,
Unless 'twas some full-grown Director had sat for't;--
Not to mention the _et caeteras_ of Genii and Sphinxes,
Fame, Victory, and other such semi-clad minxes;--
Sea Captains,[2]--the idols here most idolized;
And of whom some, alas! might too well be comprized
Among ready-made Saints, as they died _cannonized_;
With a multitude more of odd cockneyfied deities,
Shrined in such pomp that quite shocking to see it 'tis;
Nor know I what better the Rector could do
Than to shrine there his own beloved quadruped too;
As most surely a tithe-pig, whate'er the world thinks, is
A much fitter beast for a church than a Sphinx is.
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