The Astronomer. 505 



Next swam in space, though not in sauce, 



Two vast outlandish Fishes ; 

 'Twould pose a cook to tell their names 



Or clap them into dishes. 



By this tremendous circle bound 



The solar system shone, 

 I should have said was meant to shine, 



The light was well nigh gone. 



'Twas very sad to see the plight 



In which the planets lay, 

 One scarce could tell the morn from eve, 



Nor yet the night from day. 



The sun, by constant winding round, 



Had got a dismal fall, 

 From which he wambled when he moved 



Or would not move at all. 



Besides, some urchin with a stick 



Had poked him in the face, 

 Through which a little candle shone 



Without much solar grace. 



Mercury was little better off, 



Since truth we must declare, 

 He might have once been meant for round, 



But now he was worn square. 



Nor beauty much could Venus boast, 



She flopped all to and fro, 

 With dirty patches on her face 



As black as any crow. 



Next came the Earth, stuck on a skewer, 



The which around she spun ; 

 Oh dear ! what creaking noise she made 



Whilst grinding round the sun. 



The Moon, unlike the jolly face 



In learned Moore we find, 

 Looked somewhat grim, and I've a thought 



One of her eyes was blind. 



But be this as it may, the next 



Was Mars, in proper station. 

 Who glowed red as an alderman 



In a city inflammation. 



Poor Jupiter, in travelling on 



Too fast, his moons had lost ; 

 They stuck against an ugly post 



Which had his passage cross'd. 



I never knew he was a shot, 



Yet shot belt had he on ; 

 But 'twas so worn and full of holes 



That all the shot were gone. 



