There is little that goads us with fiercer despair
(Those who buy, you perpend, stock, debenture or share,
Such as speculate mainly; investors are rare—)
Than this growl ill-conditioned of pestilent Bear!
With a craftiness planned and a malice unfair,
Improvising a scare unsubstantial as air—
Now it's "war," now "disease," and the world must prepare
For the death of, say, GOULD, or a Chilian flare;
Or the "cutting of rates:" I am quite unaware
What it means, I declare, but it's "cutting," I swear,