Rejected, now, your humble, ardent prayer For cash, to speed your way To Baffin's frozen bay, 'Tis your own fault if you repine! You should have mention'd some rich golden mine-- Not Variation Charts, that claim no care. Avarice, alone, would sooner bid you go Than all the inducements Art can shew: The men, whom you petition for some dollars, Tho' willing to be thought prodigious scholars, Yet care as much for variation charts As king of spades, and knave of hearts. Churchman! 'tis best to quit this vain pursuit This Variation is a common thing! Rather attach yourself to Caesar's wing-- You'll find it better--better, sir, by half, To sooth Pomposo's ear--or make him laugh: So shall you, mounted in a coach and six, Ride envoy to the country of the Creeks-- So shall you visit Europe's gaudy courts, And see the polish'd world, at public charge; Return--and spend your life in sports, Be air'd in coach, and sail'd in barge:-- Pursue this track, thou man of curious soul, Nor, like a whale, go puffing to the pole. [383] This poem is found only in the 1795 edition. The Journal of the House of Representatives, 1st Congress, 1st Session, April 20, 1789, notes the investigations of John Churchman in regard to the magnetic needle and the determination of longitude by his method and grants to Churchman the right of exclusive use of his invention. Unfavorable report on his petition for aid to enable him to make a voyage to Baffin's Bay to pursue his investigations of the causes of the variation of the magnetic needle. THE PROCESSION TO SYLVANIA[384] In Life's dull round, how often folks are cross'd, Their projects spoil'd, their sayings misapplied; Some friends in woods and some in oceans lost, Some doom'd to walk on foot, while others ride. But, now, let preachers moralize in verse, While I to yonder caravan attend That all prepar'd, like some slow moving herse Begins its journey to an Indian land; Bound for Sylvania!--sad, disheartening town, When thou art nam'd how many a nymph will sigh, Sigh, lest her sweet-heart should return a clown With grizly homespun coat, long beard, and pumpkin pye. This caravan with wondrous geer is stow'd, All sorts of moveables--straw beds, and cradles, Old records, salted fish, make up their load, With kegs of brandy, frying pans, and ladles. A pensive Printer in a one-horse chair (Dragg'd slowly on by sullen sleepy steed, With some ill-fated squires) brings up the rear, Contriving future news for folks to read. To guard the whole, a trusty knight appears, With chosen men, to keep the wolves at bay: They march--and lo! Belinda all in tears That bears must hug instead of ladies gay.