Churchman! methinks your scheme is rather wild
Of travelling to the pole
Where icy billows roll,
And pork and pease
Are said to freeze
Even at the instant they are boil'd.
Rejected, now, your humble, ardent prayer
For cash, to speed your way
To Baffin's frozen bay,
'Tis your own fault if you repine!
You should have mention'd some rich golden mine—
Not Variation Charts, that claim no care.
Avarice, alone, would sooner bid you go
Than all the inducements Art can shew:
The men, whom you petition for some dollars,
Tho' willing to be thought prodigious scholars,
Yet care as much for variation charts
As king of spades, and knave of hearts.
Churchman! 'tis best to quit this vain pursuit
This Variation is a common thing!
Rather attach yourself to Caesar's wing—
You'll find it better—better, sir, by half,
To sooth Pomposo's ear—or make him laugh:
So shall you, mounted in a coach and six,
Ride envoy to the country of the Creeks—
So shall you visit Europe's gaudy courts,
And see the polish'd world, at public charge;
Return—and spend your life in sports,
Be air'd in coach, and sail'd in barge:—
Pursue this track, thou man of curious soul,
Nor, like a whale, go puffing to the pole.