“Thus Cain of old, poor Abel slain, “Departing from his native plain, “In land of Nod, beneath the heaven's frowns, “Built sky-topt towers and federal towns.”
Enough of learned pigs, Pigg'd for immense designs, And shame our men of mighty wigs — Enough of Peter Porcupines,
Whose quills, like pop-guns shooting at a fort, Be sure have done the Demos mighty hurt, A subject now of real weight inspires, That soon will kindle every muse's fires,
No less than federal town, Immortal in renown, Which in her district — ten miles square The center fills, like spider in her web
Catching all silly flies that venture near, And fattening on the folly of the tribe. When fates decreed, Or nature said
“This spot is destin'd for a future town,” Between them both they so contriv'd the matter ( Altho’ perhaps not wholly wrong the latter ) That this should be a town of silent halls
And like Palmyra famous in the east, Erect her columns huge and lofty walls — Yet there in vain for men do travellers seek, And hardly meet a townsman once a week!
Virginia's sons, as through this town they pass Each cries, “Alas, No sound of fiddle here, All dull and drear,
No merry bells that jingle on the ear, No glittering females, balls, or billiards dear — No fighting cocks, no gallant steeds for racing: Well-stap my vitals — is it not distressing?
No gallant ship with canvas swelling high Engag'd in war or commerce passes by; But corn-boats mean from Alleghany hills, Or buck-wheat laden hulks from country mills!”
Amidst these huge hotels and regal domes Frequent some townsman walks, as midst the tombs, And cries, “The founders of this city blundered In rearing up such piles for eighteen hundred:
Waiting for that must Congress absent stay?— Ah! curse the Law's delay! Rather than hold them there, ( Though, doubtless, it may sadly grieve her )
May Philadelphia twelve months every year Be plagu'd and blooded for the yellow fever!”
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