Classic Poem

" WHOEVER walks through London streets, "
Said Momus to the Son of Saturn,
" Each day new edifices meets
Of queer proportion, queerer pattern:
If thou, O cloud-compelling god,
Wilt aid me with thy special grace,
I, too, will wield my motley hod,
And build a church in Langham-place. "

" Agreed, " the Thunderer cries: " go plant
Thine edifice, I care not how ill;
Take notice, Earth, I hereby grant
Carte blanche of mortar, stone, and trowel.
Go, Hermes, Hercules, and Mars,
Fraught with these bills on Henry Hase,
Drop with yon jester from the stars,
And build a church in Langham-place. "

Down, four in hand, to earth they go,
Pass by Palladio, Wren, and Inigo,
Contracting for their job, to show
How far four gods can make a guinea go.
This plan was Doric, ergo had,
And that lonic, ergo base;
No proper model could be bad,
To shape this church in Langham-place.

In deep confab they pass'd two hours;
Alcides on his club of tough oak
Leant, and exclaim'd, " Martello towers
Lie scatter'd on the coast of Suffolk:
Let one of those toward London swerve,
Mars, out of war, they're out of place;
What can they better do, than serve
To form a church in Langham-place? "

The word was said, the deed was done,
Light Hermes toil'd in vain to stir it,
When, with a kick, Alcmena's son
Soon tilted down the granite turret.
Like a huge hogshead up to town
The martial structure roll'd apace,
And, mortar-coated, settled down
Into a church in Langham-place.

But, ere with belfry or with bell
They graced its top, its side with casement,
They found an unexplored shell
Alive and burning at its basement.
The channell'd air now upward drew
Flame after flame, in lurid race,
And gave a sort of glass-house hue
To their new church in Langham-place.

" 'Twill never do, " Alcides cried,
" The Atlas will indict for arson, "
While Momus carelessly replied —
" Phoo! never mind it — smoke the parson! "
Mars, at a push, had wit at will,
And said, " Your joint misgivings chase,
This round Martello tower shall still
Be a new church in Langham-place.

" To Ætna's red Vulcanian steeps,
Fly, Mercury, on feather'd sandal,
And, when the giant Titan sleeps,
Snatch, god of thieves, his hugh bed-candle.
Bear thence its tall extinguisher,
This conflagration to efface,
'Twill added dignity confer
On our new church in Langham-place. "

The cone up-tilted, Momus bawls —
" Attention, all our loving people,
Here Mars's tower affords us walls,
And Titan's candlestick a steeple:
Our fane, thus martially endow'd,
Soon may some Boanerges grace,
And 'Son of Thunder,' draw the crowd
To our new church in Langham-place! "