When the great Bulwer’s pen did trace
The history of the coming race,
His hero to us hath unfurled
The glories of his new-found world.
This bold traveller he 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 wars,
Continuous engaged in jars,
Till they discovered great Vril power,
Then wars did cease from the 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 ar now despised,
Unfit for nations civilized;
And peaceful glories they do sing,
And are not slaves to warlike king.
Bellamy describes a poor rose,
Where in cold swamp it feebly grows;
Transplanted to the heat and light,
Bush blossoms are a charming sight.