Stories indeed, which intelligence spurns.
In all these sensations I own I'm a scorner,
Never in them have my feelings a part;
But, where Gordon Cumming was, near Hyde Park Corner,
Oh! there, there is something that touches the heart!
His exhibition of skins show'd the ravages
Hunters can make with the savage wild beast;
But now they have got there a troupe of wild Savages,
Who have not (as yet!) of their guests made a feast.
Kafirs from Borioboola, or somewhere—