HO lives in old Gotham, in comfort and ease,
And knows not the wit and wag, Auctioneer Keese?
His head, like his person, though small, yet contains
An extra supply of industrious brains;
And bumps like mole-hills, on the map of his skull,
Show passions the reins of his government pull.
His eyes from beneath sable curtains appear;
His ears are aye ready the last bid to hear;
His nose it is long, and his cheeks pale and thin,
And shaggy black wool wildly grows on his chin.
Strict search among Christians could find very few
That so much resemble keen Shylock the Jew;
But 'tis only in looks: and pray do not start,
He's blessed with good and a generous heart;
And would that the Auctioneer only could stray
Where Mammon's bright ingots might fall in his way;
Then friends, by the score, to his table would run,
Thick as insects that dance in the rays
of the sun,
And feast with a rapture not hitherto felt,
While eagles, like snow-flakes, would rapidly melt;
But labor does not always fortunes insure,
And fools may have riches, and wise men be poor.
Shrewd Prince of the Hammer! his tough wiry frame,
For enduring fatigue, puts the giants to shame;
His shoulders, though narrow, let no one deplore,
Might well challenge Atlas, the Titan of yore;
His voice is not thunder, yet rich, deep, and clear;
His throat never rusts for the want of good cheer;
His tongue onward wags, oh! the queer joking rogue,
While tireless he wades through a long catalogue.
In humor and wit there's no want of supply,
For thick as the sparks from an anvil they fly;
Deep read in the lore of Book title-pages,
He well knows by, name the great of all ages:
All authors, from Moses and Homer of old,
Like the Phrygian Midas, he turns into gold;
That stupid king said, whose heart was so hollow,
Pan could sing better than matchless Apollo,—
An insult so foul the god could not let pass,
So his royal head decked with huge ears of an ass. 'Tis not so with John, for a whisper and nod
Show he's got the eyes and the ears of a god;
And though strange, 'tis not the less true, that he's blest
With gifts that the heathen king never possessed.
While at his droll wit and his humor you laugh,
Lo! sheep-skins are suddenly changed into calf;
And leather, well dressed, that once covered some ewes,
He turns to morocco you cannot refuse.
By some trick uncommon of legerdemain,
Quick, cider is found to be Heidsick champagne;
Ale brewed up the Hudson by some pompous botch,
One rap of his hammer will turn to good Scotch.
'Tis the same with the Arts: If pictures you buy,
On the taste of the connoisseur seller rely;
If Raphael or Rembrandt you may not well like
He'll sell you a Titian, perhaps a Vandyck;
Or, should you prefer it, just by the same rule,
A Teniers may get, of the true Flemish school;
A Correggio, more than three hundred years old,
For the price of some blockhead's production is sold ;
A Guido and Rubens, of beauty and grace,
Sc seldom seen now in an auctioneer's place—
A Murillo, and eke a true Claude Lorraine,
Are found in the list of the Great Master train;
There Salvator Rosa's grand pictures of gloom,
And Hogarth and Wilkie, all share the same doom.
Should you wish sheep or cattle-pray do not sneer,
You'll instantly get an undoubted Landseer;
And if hogs you prefer, that look like living swine,
Keep easy, a Morland will doubtless be thine;
Or if native talent you may deem the best,
Bear home to your parlor a Benjamin West.
Should you wish canvas angels taken from life,
You may get a nice batch to present to your wife;
And statues from Phidias down to our time,
Or frescoes long plundered from temples sublime;
Old relics of saints, vellum missals of priests,
Stuffed birds of rare plumage and beautiful beasts— All are knocked down by great Auctioneer Johnnie, So, one and all, purchase sans cérémonie.
OOK of intellectual flowers,
Reared and culled in leisure hours,
Be thou a garden chaste and meet,
Thy fruit forever pure and sweet,
That maidens fair and hoary sages
May gaze with rapture on thy pages.
Here let me plant a daisy then,
The meekest flower that decks the glen,
Which, though a wild and common weed,
All may from it a lesson read:
It buds and blooms, then fades away,
By Winter doomed to short decay,
Like man, to live some brighter day.
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