The Yahoo; a satirical rhapsody ...

A SATIRICAL RtHAPSODY. 105 Predestin'd all to good, or else to evil; One to Jehovah, fifty to the devil. What, then, are YAHoos thus comnpell'd to be,'rlle instrumernts of their own misery?' Oh, no! pride, envy, misery, and ambition, Have brought " God's imatge" to this sad condition. Greedy as death, the universal cry, Is gold! more gold'! incessanlt till they die: Arid could they utter words when laid in dust, More gold! their li vid lips would utter first. Drain Mexico of gold, bring all Peru; Insaitiate still, they hovwl for Timbuctoo. Gold is the god the Yahoos all adore!'Tllere's no one criminal unless he's poor Should Christ himself but visit thlis proud town, And ride his ass in Blrodway up anrd down, -The present, tho}ugh a Bible reading race, Woulld shunr him, or else giggle in his face:t While one, perchance, amonl the happy crowd, T'(, rn-ltiTfy the rest, mighlit bawl aloud, (When they had tvio'g'd him thrllouh his glass);'God danimme, Jack, Iere's Sancho on his ass! Zounds, what a quizz!''" The belles, too, in a fright, Would tulmble into fits at such a siglit. For pelt' they sciamble, gold's the giraind pursuit, For gold they'll ranlsack earth, and hell to boot;Q Whatever's the )retext, that is still the aill;'The gen'ral cry is'" chactin pour soi-mngme." *,' Why chalrle manitliid on heavenl thlleil own offence, And call their woes the crites of Plrovidence? Blimli; whio t;hlenselves thleir miseries create, And perish by theirlfolly Iiot their fate."-Doddslcey J. "They're now so plonud, that should they meet Tlie thwelve apostles in thle street, They'd turn tlieii nose ulp at ther all, And shove their Savior' friom tlih wall."-Czur2cldll.: "H-Iear London's voice-' G.et money, rmoney still, And then let virltue follow if she will:' Still, still be getting, never, never rest."-FPoo e.