XXVIII.

      “It’s not parly voo,”
      Cried a schoolboy or two,
“Nor Hebrew at all,” said a wandering Jew. 
      Some held it was sprung
      From the Irvingite tongue,
The same that is used by a child very young.

XXIX.

      Some guess’d it high Dutch,
      Others thought it had much
In sound of the true Hoky-poky-ish touch;
      But none could be poz,
      What the Dickins! (not Boz)
No mortal could tell what the Dickins it was!

XXX.

      When who should come pat,
      In a moment like that,
But Bowring, to see what the people were at—­
      A Doctor well able,
      Without any fable,
To talk and translate all the babble of Babel.

XXXI.

      So just drawing near,
      With a vigilant ear,
That took ev’ry syllable in, very clear,
      Before one could sip
      Up a tumbler of flip,
He knew the whole tongue, from the root to the tip!

XXXII.

      Then stretching his hand,
      As you see Daniel stand,
In the Feast of Belshazzar, that picture so grand! 
      Without more delay,
      In the Hamilton way
He English’d whatever the Elf had to say.

XXXIII.

      “Krak kraziboo ban,
      I’m the Lunatick Man,
Confined in the Moon since creation began—­
      Sit muggy bigog,
      Whom except in a fog
You see with a Lanthorn, a Bush, and a Dog.”

XXXIV.

      “Lang sinery lear,
      For this many a year,
I’ve long’d to drop in at your own little sphere,—­
      Och, pad-mad aroon
      Till one fine afternoon,
I found that Wind-Coach on the horns of the Moon.”

XXXV.

      “Cush quackery go,
      But, besides you must know,
I’d heard of a profiting Prophet below;
      Big botherum blether,
      Who pretended to gather
The tricks that the Moon meant to play with the weather.”

XXXVI.

      “So Crismus an crash
      Being shortish of cash,
I thought I’d a right to partake of the hash—­
      Slik mizzle an smak,
      So I’m come with a pack,
To sell to the trade, of My Own Almanack.”

XXXVII.

      “Fiz bobbery pershal
      Besides aims commercial,
Much wishing to honor my friend Sir John Herschel,
      Cum puddin and tame,
      It’s inscribed to his name,
Which is now at the full in celestial fame.”