Suggested by the brilliant display at Toronto, September, 1884.
When the great Bulwer’s pen did trace
The history of the coming race
His hero to us he hath unfurled
The glories of his new found world.
This bold traveller be did venture
Far below our world’s centre;
He entered through an ancient mine
And to us doth new world define.
Once all was discord and fierce jars,
Continuous engaged in wars
Till they discovered great vrill power,
Then wars did cease from that same hour.
Mighty bolts from it were hurled;
Would soon have laid waste the world;
So for world’s preservation
At once they stopped desolation.
All wars by them are now despised
Unfit for nation civilized;
Their peaceful glories they do sing
And fly on artificial wing.
Great blazing artificial light
It ever burns both day and night,
For they have neither sun nor moon,
But radiant, always ’tis high noon.
When we beheld the glorious sight,
High in the air did shine so bright;
It seemed that it could banish night,
Great refulgent electric light.
But after all, ’tis children’s play,
Compared with the great orb of day,
Or when the moon it doth shine bright,
And stars do beautify the night.