Thou--whom the second-sighted never saw, The Master Fiction of fictitious history! Chief Nong tong paw! No mister in the world--and yet all mystery! The "tricksy spirit" of a Scotch Cock Lane-- A _novel_ Junius puzzling the world's brain-- A man of magic--yet no talisman! A man of clair obscure--not him o' the moon! A star--at noon. A non-descriptus in a caravan, A private--of no corps--a northern light In a dark lantern,--Bogie in a crape-- A figure--but no shape; A vizor--and no knight; The real abstract hero of the age; The staple Stranger of the stage; A Some One made in every man's presumption, Frankenstein's monster--but instinct with gumption; Another strange state captive in the north, Constable-guarded in an iron mask-- Still let me ask, Hast thou no silver platter, No door-plate, or no card--or some such matter, To scrawl a name upon, and then cast forth? III. Thou Scottish Barmecide, feeding the hunger Of Curiosity with airy gammon? Thou mystery-monger, Dealing it out like middle cut of salmon, That people buy and can't make head or tail of it (Howbeit that puzzle never hurts the sale of it); Thou chief of authors mystic and abstractical, That lay their proper bodies on the shelf-- Keeping thyself so truly to thyself, Thou Zimmerman made practical! Thou secret fountain of a Scottish style, That, like the Nile, Hideth its source wherever it is bred, But still keeps disemboguing (Not disembroguing) Thro' such broad sandy mouths without a head! Thou disembodied author--not yet dead,-- The whole world's literary Absentee! Ah! wherefore hast thou fled, Thou learned Nemo--wise to a degree, Anonymous LL.D.! IV. Thou nameless captain of the nameless gang That do--and inquests cannot say who did it! Wert thou at Mrs. Donatty's death-pang? Hast thou made gravy of Wear's watch--or hid it? Hast thou a Blue Beard chamber? Heaven forbid it! I should be very loth to see thee hang! I hope thou hast an alibi well plann'd, An innocent, altho' an ink-black hand. Tho' thou hast newly turn'd thy private bolt on The curiosity of all invaders-- I hope thou art merely closeted with Colton, Who knows a little of the _Holy Land_, Writing thy next new novel--The Crusaders! V.