| |
| THOU wond’rous cause of speculation— | |
| Of deep research and cogitation, | |
| Of many a head, and many a nation— | |
| While all in vain | |
| Have tried their wits to answer whether | 5 |
| In silver, gold, steel, silk, or leather, | |
| Or human parts, or all together, | |
| Consists thy brain! | |
| |
| When first I view’d thine awful face, | |
| Rising above that ample case | 10 |
| Which gives thy cloven foot a place, | |
| Thy double shoe, | |
| I marvell’d whether I had seen | |
| Old Nick himself, or a machine, | |
| Or something fix’d midway between | 15 |
| The distant two! | |
| |
| A sudden shuddering seized my frame; | |
| With feeling that defies a name, | |
| Of wonder, horror, doubt and shame, | |
| The tout ensemble. | 20 |
| I deem’d thee form’d with power and will; | |
| My hair rose up—my blood stood still, | |
| And curdled with a fearful chill, | |
| Which made me tremble. | |
| |
| I thought if, e’en within thy glove, | 25 |
| Thy cold and fleshless hand should move | |
| To rest on me, the touch would prove | |
| Far worse than death;— | |
| That I should be transform’d, and see | |
| Thousands, and thousands, gaze on me, | 30 |
| A living, moving thing, like thee, | |
| Devoid of breath. | |
| |
| When busy, curious, learn’d, and wise, | |
| Regard thee with inquiring eyes | |
| To find wherein thy mystery lies, | 35 |
| On thy stiff neck, | |
| Turning thy head with grave precision, | |
| Their optic light and mental vision | |
| Alike defying, with decision, | |
| Thou giv’st them “check!” | 40 |
| |
| Some say a little man resides | |
| Between thy narrow, bony sides, | |
| And round the world within thee rides: | |
| Absurd the notion! | |
| For what ’s the human thing ’t would lurk | 45 |
| In thine unfeeling breast, Sir Turk, | |
| Performing thus, thine inward work, | |
| And outward motion? | |
| |
| Some whisper that thou ’rt him who fell | |
| From heaven’s high courts, down, down to dwell | 50 |
| In that deep place of sulphury smell | |
| And lurid flame. | |
| Thy keeper, then, deserves a pension | |
| For seeking out this wise invention, | |
| To hold thee harmless, in detention, | 55 |
| Close at thy game. | |
| |
| Now, though all Europe has confest | |
| That in thy master Maelzel’s breast | |
| Hidden, thy secret still must rest, | |
| Yet, ’t were great pity, | 60 |
| With all our intellectual sight, | |
| That none should view thy nature right— | |
| But thou must leave in fog and night | |
| Our keen-eyed city. | |
| |
| Then just confide in me, and show, | 65 |
| Or tell how things within thee go, | |
| Speak in my ear so quick and low | |
| None else shall know it. | |
| But, mark me! if I should discover | |
| Without thine aid, thy secret mover, | 70 |
| With thee for ever all is over; | |
| I ’ll quickly blow it! | |
| |
