"Orpheus could lead the savage race,
And trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the lyre."—
Precisely, Glorious John! Yet 'twere no lark
To see the trees cavorting round the Park.
No! Our Cecilia's aim is even higher.
To soothe the savage (Socialistic) breast,
Set Atheist and Anarchist at rest,
And to abate the spouting-Stiggins pest
Young Herbert and grey George may well aspire.