travelsnevermade asked: I would love to read the latest post of yours, but it's too small, is there anywhere else I can find a transcript of it? Thanks. :)
Wow. That turned out much smaller than my copy. Sorry about that!
As far as I can tell it’s never been transcribed anywhere online, so here’s the best I could do. Sorry for any typos or formatting issues.
I hope you enjoy it :)
A VISION OF STEAM
“Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant.” –Virgil
I laid me down and slept on the floor,
And I had a wonderful dream,
For “coming events cast their shadow before,”
Or rather a volume of steam.
I thought I had slept a hundred year,
‘Midst ruins and rubbish dirty,
And suddenly ‘waked to the smiles and tears
Of life again, and in rang in my ears
‘Twas nineteen hundred and thirty.
I though a sprit beside me stood,
Strange in his shape and dress,
He wore a cowl and he wore a hood;
Who he was I might not guess.
But the silence broke and the stranger spoke, -
I heard him in my dream, -
“Fear not,” he said, “but come and see
How all the world is govern’d by me,
The mighty spirit of steam.”
Straightway, like to a falling moon,
With a rushing sound there came
A mighty sphere; it lighted soon,
And what should it be but a steam balloon,
And we entered together the same.
And away we went o’er London far,
As swift as the light’ning’s gleam,
But in vain I look’d from our lofty car,
For from Westminster-abbey to Temple-bar,
They were all in a cloud of steam.
“Come, let us nearer to the earth,”
The mighty spirit cried;
The car sank down, and I set forth,
Through the streets, with him for a guide.
“Now,” quoth the stranger, “approach, approach,
I’m tired with wandering, I trow,
So we’ll get into that hackney-coach,
‘Tis the best in all the row.”
In we got, and strange, oh strange,
The horseless coach moved on;
We fell from the clouds in Regent-street,
We glided along in our chariot fleet,
But of all the folks we chanced to meet,
Alas! I knew not one.
We passed by Newgate, - a crowd was there,
And a scaffold was raised before,
The criminal knelt and whisper’d a prayer,
Then stood erect once more.
Much I marvell’d he stood alone,
But he suddenly utter’d a scream;
Gone was all hope, on his neck a rope
Already noosed, from above fell down;
The bolt slipp’d from its band without a hand, —
The corse swang away from its final stand, —
They were hanging the man by steam!
As we return’d to our vehicle,
A figure before us stood,
It stood broom in hand at a dirty crossing,
I pitied to creature, and was tossing
A sixpence, — I though ‘twas flesh and blood, —
But my friend held my hand, says he “ ‘tis wood:
“A strange thing to you it may seem,
“But, let me tell you, the plan is good,
“We sweep our streets by steam!”
We went into Paternoster-row,
It had a mournful look,
For passed away were Longman and Co.,
Their shop and every book.
Yet clouds of vapour were issuing
From each window low and high,
As erst I have seen it wondering
From the Brentford Brewery.
“Strange, strange,” said I, “that they should turn
“Their minds to such a scheme!” –
“What scheme?” quoth he, “you may discern
“They publish still, but you have to learn
“How we write and print by steam.
“But, come, enough of this city wide, —
“And yet one peep you must have
“At the mighty house, where you have descried
“Peers long ago in the grave.”
Straight we alit by the House of Peers;
I was silent, —silent all,—
Tho’ all seemed ranged as in former years,
On the benches round the wall.
Suddenly all arose, and each
A paper gave and took,
It stood, it seemed, in lieu of speech,
Intently did I look.
I looked again, but they stirred no more,
They were almost as stiff and as stark as before.
Wooden was each, — blockades were all, —
Mandarine members filled the hall.
Oh, strange, strange, grew my dream:
With a grim smile the spirit said,
“Think you not, of all you have visited,
“This is the best and noblest plan
“To spare the tongue and brains of man,
“And govern the nation by steam?”
But slowly a little vapour arose
From the wooden Prime Minister’s head’
It gather’d and grew and o’er his foes
In the opposition spread.
There was a hissing rushing noise, —
A crash, a shout, a scream, —
The engine had burst; — and, oh , the smell,
The horrible vapour, who can tell,
At that bursting of Parliament steam?
It was no joke, and I awoke,
The hissing still around me broke;
The candles were out, my wife in a pout,
For in my struggling dream
I had seized the tea-urn, and turned it o’er,—
The water was swimming about the floor,—
And I was awaken’d by steam.
