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"text":"<p>   Nor did the Pulpit’s oratory fail<br />To achieve its higher triumph. Not unfelt<br />Were its admonishments, nor lightly heard<br />The awful truths delivered thence by tongues<br />Endowed by various power to search the soul;<br />Yet ostentation, domineering, oft<br />Poured forth harangues, how sadly out of place!—<br />There have I seen a comely bachelor,<br />Fresh from a toilette of two hours, ascend<br />His rostrum, with seraphic glance look up,<br />And, in a tone elaborately low<br />Beginning, lead his voice through many a maze<br />A minuet course; and, winding up his mouth,<br />From time to time, into an orifice<br />Most delicate, a lurking eyelet, small,<br />And only not invisible, again<br />Open it out, diffusing thence a smile<br />Of rapt irradiation, exquisite.<br />Meanwhile the Evangelists, Isaiah, Job,<br />Moses, and he who penned, the other day,<br />The death of Abel, Shakespeare, and the Bard<br />Whose genius spangled o’er a gloomy theme<br />With fancies thick as his inspiring stars,<br />And Ossian (doubt not ’tis the naked truth)<br />Summoned from streamy Morven—each and all<br />Would, in their turns, lend ornaments and flowers<br />To entwine the crook of eloquence that helped<br />This pretty Shepherd, pride of all the plains,<br />To rule and guide his captivated flock.</p><p>(Currently a very speculative placement.)</p>",
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