Those Wheels of infamy to shun,
Which thousands touch, and are undone.
There,-built by legislative hands,

On Christian ground, an altar stands.
-"Stands? gentle Poet, tell me where?"
Go to Guildhall:-"It stands not there!"
True;-'tis my brain that raves and reels
Whene'er it turns on Lottery Wheels;
Such things in youth can I recall
Nor think of thee,-of thee, Guildhall?
Where erst I play'd with glittering schemes,
And lay entranced in golden dreams;
Bright round my head those bubbles broke,
Poorer from every dream I woke ;

Wealth came, but not the wealth I sought;
Wisdom was wealth to me; and taught
My feet to miss thy gates,-that lay,
Like toll-bars on the old "broad way,"
Where pilgrims paid,-oh grief to tell!
Tribute for going down to hell.

Long on thy floor an altar stood,
To human view unstain'd with blood,
But red and foul in Heaven's pure eyes,
Groaning with infant sacrifice,

From year to year;-till sense or shame,
Or some strange cause without a name,
-'Twas not the cry of innocence,—
Drove such abomination thence:
Thence drove it, but destroy'd it not;
It blackens some obscurer spot;
Obscurer, yet so well defined,
Thither the blind might lead the blind,
While heralds shout in every ear,
"This is the temple,-worship here."
Thither the deaf may read their
way;
"Tis plain ;-to find it, go astray!
Thither the lame, on wings of paper,
May come to nothing, like a vapour;

Thither may all the world repair;
A word, a wish, will waft you there;
And, O so smooth and steep the track,
'Tis worth your life to venture back;
Easy the step to Cooper's Hall,*
As headlong from a cliff to fall;
Hard to recover from the shock,
As broken-limb'd to climb a rock.

There, built by legislative hands,
Our country's shame, an altar stands;
Not votive brass, nor hallow'd stone,
Humbly inscribed-"To God unknown;"
Though sure, if earth afford a space
For such an altar, here's the place :
-Not breathing incense in a shrine,
Where human art appears divine,
And man by his own skill hath wrought
So bright an image of his thought,
That nations, barbarous or refined,
Might worship there th' immortal mind,
That gave their ravish'd eyes to see
A meteor glimpse of Deity;
A ray of Nature's purest light,
Shot through the gulf of Pagan night,
Dazzling, but leaving darkness more
Profoundly blinding than before.
-Ah! no such power of genius calls
Sublime devotion to these walls;
No pomp of art, surpassing praise,
Britannia's altar here displays:
A MONEY-CHANGER'S TABLE,-spread
With hieroglyphics, black and red.
Exhibits, on deceitful scrolls,

"The price of Tickets,”—and of Souls; For thus are Souls to market brought, Barter'd for vanity,-for naught;

* Where the State Lottery was drawn for many years.

Till the poor venders find the cost,
-Time to eternal ages lost!

No sculptured idol decks the place,
Of such excelling form and face,
That Grecian pride might feign its birth
A statue fallen from heaven to earth:
The goddess here is best design'd,

-A flimsy harlot, bold and blind;
Invisible to standers-by,

And yet in everybody's eye!

FORTUNE her name;-a gay deceiver,
Cheat as she may, the crowd believe her;
And she, abuse her as they will,
Showers on the crowd her favours still:
For 'tis the bliss of both to be
Themselves unseen, and not to see;
Had she discernment,-pride would scout
The homage of her motley rout;
Were she reveal'd,-the poorest slave
Would blush to be her luckiest knave.
Not good OLD FORTUNE here we scorn,
In classic fable heavenly born:
She who for nothing deigns to deal
Her blanks and prizes from One Wheel;
And who, like Justice, wisely blind,
Scatters her bounties on mankind
With such a broad impartial aim,

If none will praise her, none should blame;
For were ten thousand fancies tried,
Wealth more discreetly to divide

Among the craving race of man,
Wit could not frame a happier plan.

Here, 'tis her Counterfeit, who reigns
O'er haunted heads and moon-struck brains;
A Two-wheel'd Jade, admired by sots,
Who flings, for cash in hand, her lots
To those, who, fain "their luck to try,"
Sell Hope, and Disappointment buy.

The wily sorceress here reveals,

With proud parade, her mystic Wheels;
-Those Wheels, on which the nation runs
Over the morals of its Sons;

-Those Wheels, at which the nation draws
Through shouting streets its broken laws!
Engines of plotting Fortune's skill
To lure, entangle, torture, kill.
Behold her, in imperial pride,

King, Lords, and Commons at her side;
Arm'd with authority of state,

The public peace to violate;

More might be told,—but not by me

Must this "eternal blazon" be.

Between her Wheels the Phantom stands,
With Syren voice, and Harpy hands:
She turns th' enchanted axle round;

Forth leaps the "TWENTY THOUSAND POUND!"
That " "twenty thousand" one has got;
But twenty thousand more have not.
These curse her to her face, deplore

Their loss, then-take her word once more;
Once more deceived, they rise like men
Bravely resolved-to try again;

Again they fail;-again trapann'd,

She mocks them with her sleight of hand;
Still fired with rage, with avarice steel'd,
Perish they may, but never yield;
They woo her till their latest breath,

Then snatch their prize-a blank in death.
The priests, that in her temple wait,
Her minor ministers of fate,

Like Dian's silversmith's of old,
True to the craft that brings them gold,
Lungs, limbs, and pens unwearied ply
To puff their Goddess to the sky;
Oh that their puffs could fix Her there,
Who builds such castles in the air,

And in the malice of her mirth
Lets them to simpletons on earth!
-Who steals the rainbow's peaceful form,
But is the demon of the storm;
-Assumes a star's benignant mien,
But wears a comet's tail unseen;
-Who smiles a Juno to the crowd,
But all that win her catch a cloud,
And, doom'd Ixion's fate to feel,
Are whirl'd upon a giddier wheel.
-Oh that her priests could fix her there,
Whose breath and being are but air!
Yet not for this their spells they try,
They bawl to keep her from the sky,
A harmless meteor in that sphere;
A baleful Ignis fatuus here,
With wandering and bewildering light,
To cheer, and then confound the sight,
Guide the lone traveller,-then betray,
Where Death in ambush lurks for prey.
Fierce, but familiar, at their call,
The veriest fiend of Satan's fall;
-The fiend that tempted him to stake
Heaven's bliss against the burning lake;
-The fiend that tempted him again,
To burst the darkness of his den,
And risk whate'er of wrath untried
Eternal justice yet could hide,
For one transcendent chance, by sin,
Man and his new-made world to win;
-That fiend, while Satan play'd his part
At Eve's fond ear, assail'd her heart,
And tempted her to hazard more
Than fallen Angels lost before;

They ruin'd but themselves-her crime
Brought death on all the race of time:
-That fiend comes forth, like

tna's flame;

The SPIRIT OF GAMBLING call his name;