’Tis Ireland that boasts it, their sea-rara avis,
Caught wild in a net, and by stroking made tame.
Star-gazing H⸺l, a knowing old fellow,
As e’er peep’d at bodies above or below,
This man o’-the moon, by strong stingo made mellow,
Thro’ glass microscopic can miracles show;
He call’d it a satellite of Venus centre,
That ⸺ had seen by command of the ⸺,
And that Mercury into its system would enter,
If e’er it were station’d in Saturn’s foul ring.