A Poetic Survey Round Birmingham/Inference
Ideal Inference.
This Book, perhaps, may soon its way explore,
And find a welcome, on each Foreign shore;
Perhaps thro' Europe may, in time, be spread,
Or by the tawny African be read:
Its novelty may strike, perhaps it may,
In time, reach Borneo, Pekin, or Bombay;
At either India, may, perhaps, be found,
Or at Kamschatka seen, or Nootka Sound.
Ev’n Kings and Princes, here may deign to look,
Or smiles of British Beauties grace the book:
My Learned Countrymen[1] and Sages rare,
The whole design, perhaps, may scan with care;
And whilst each trophied emblem they peruse,
May feel half tempted to forgive the Muse,
Nay, Foreign Merchants, when they this look o'er,
To view this Place, may quit their Native Shore;
And when 'The Toy Shop of the World' they see,
May own (O! vain surmise) 'twas all thro' me!
In regions yet unknown, or lands remote,
The Natives, thus, may hear of Vulcan's spot;
And whilst, with wonder, they each print survey,
Some information of the Arts convey;
For whilst, with rapture fraught, they this explore,
And view such sights as ne'er were seen before,
Some Circumnavigators may, ere long,
Hear Birmingham extoll’d in Savage Song;
And when some progress in the Arts they've made,
Can tell who form'd the Hoe, the Axe, the Spade;
Or when their great utility they feel,
And learn the use of Iron and of Steel,
In extacy, may cry, enrapt with wonder,
'Dese English make de Guns dat roar like tunder;
'De Sword, de Lance, de Hatchet and de Spear,
'All dat be grand, and Bir—ming—ham, be dere.'
And when, in mirrors, they themselves behold,
Dress'd out with amber beads, with pearls or gold,
With varnish'd cheeks, of ochre, or red clay,
Like Chimney Sweeps, deck'd out on first of May,
With bracelets for their Thighs, their Arms, their Toes,
Or gaudy pendants for their Ears or Nose;
Each martial Chief, each sable colour'd Squaw,
Won't cry, in broken French, 'Me nong-tong paw,[2]
But cry, in broken English, '0, Manne,
'Dat Englan be grand place—me go an zee.'
The end.