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MR. MOLONY’S ACCOUNT OF THE CRYSTAL PALACE.

With ganial foire
Thransfuse me lore,
Ye sacred nympths of Pindus, 
The whoile I sing
That wondthrous thing,
The Palace made o’ windows!
Say, PAXTON, truth,
Thou woodthrous youth,
What sthroke of art celistial, What power was lint
You to invint
This combineetion cristial.
O would before
That Tnoaiss Moons,
Likewoise the late Loan Bornor, Thim aigles sthrong
Of godlike song
Cast oi, on that east oir on!
And saw thim walls,
And glittering halls,
Thlin risiqg siendther columns, Which 1, poor pote,
Could not denote,
No, not in twinty voilnins.
My Muse’s words
Is like the birds
That roosts beneath the panes there; Her wings she spoils
‘Gainst them bright tiles,
And cracks her silly brains there.
This Palace tall,
This Cristial Hall,
Which Imperors might covet, Stands in High Park
Like Noah’s Ark,
A rainbow hint above it.
The towers and fanes,
In other scaynes,
The fame of this will undo, Saint Paul’s big doom,
Saint Payther’s Room,
And Dublin’s proud Rotundo.
‘Tis here that roams,
As well becomes
Her dignitee and stations, Victoria Great,
And houlds in state
The Congress of the Nations.
Her subjects pours
From distant shores,
Her Injians and Canajians; And also we,
Her kingdoms three,
Attind with our allagiance.

Here come likewise Her bould allies,
Both Asian and Europian; From East and West
They send their best
To fill her Coornucopean.
I seen (thank Grace!)
This wondthrous place
(His Noble Honour Misrusa H. COLE it was That gave the pass,
And let me see what is there).
With conscious proide
I stud insoide
And looked the World’s Great Fair in, Until me sight
Was dazzled quite,
And couldn’t see for staring.
There’s holy saints
And window Raints,
By Maydiayval Pugin;
Alhamborough JoNEs
Did paint the tones
Of yellow and gambouge in.
There ‘a fountains there
And crosses fair;
There ‘s water-gods with nrrns; There ‘s organs three,
To play, d’ye see,
“Gon save the Quzni,” by turrns.
There’s Statues bright
Of marhle white
Of silver, and of copper;
And some in zinc,
And some, I think,
That isn’t over proper.
There ‘s staym Ingynes,
That stands in lines,
Enormous and amazing,
That squeal and snort
Like whales in sport,
Or elephants a-grazing.
There’s carts and gigs,
And pins for pigs;
There ‘s dibblers and there’s harrows, And ploughs like toys
For httle boys,
And elegant wheel-harrows.
For them genteefs
Who ride on wheels,
There’s pleuty to indulge ‘em; There ‘s Droskys snug
From Paytersbug,
And vayhycles from Bulgium.

There ‘a Cabs on Stands And Shandthry danns
There’s Wagguus from ew York
There’s Lapland Sleighs
Have crossed the seas,
And Jaunting Cyars from Cork
Amazed I pass
From glass to glass,
Deloighted I survey ‘em;
Fresh wondthers grows
Before me nose
In this sublime Musayuml
Look, here ‘s a fan
From far Japan,
A sabre from Damasco;
There’s shawls ye get
From far Thibet,
And cotton prints from Glasgow.
There ‘s German flutes,
Marocky boots,
And Naples Macaromes;
Bohaymia
Has sent Bohay;
Polonia her polonies.
There’s granite flints
That’s quite imminse,
There ‘s sacks of coals and fuels, There ‘s swords and guns,
And soap in tuns,
And Ginger-bread and Jewels.
There’s taypots there,
And cannons rare;
There’s coffins filled with roses; There ‘a canvass tints,
Teeth insthrnmints,
And shuits of clothes by Mosas.
There ‘s lashins more
Of things in store,
But thim I don’t renumber; Nor could disclose
Did I compose
From May tune to Novnnber!
Ak, Junv thru!
With eyes so blue,
That you were here to view it! .And could I screw
But tu pound tu,
‘Tis I would thrait you to it!
So let us raise
VIcToRIA’s praise,
And Aannr’s proud condition, That takes his ayse
As he surveys
This Cristial Exhibition.