A ragged cap was on his head;

But-hidden thus there was no doubting That, all with crispy locks o'erspread,

His gnarled horns were somewhere sprouting; His club feet, cased in rusty shoes,

Were crossed, as on some frieze you see them, And trousers, patched of diver's hues,

Concealed his crooked shanks beneath them.

He filled the quivering reeds with sound,
And o'er his mouth their changes shifted,
And with his goat's-eyes looked around
Where'er the passing current drifted ;
And soon, as on Trinacrian hills.

The nymphs and herdsmen ran to hear him,
Even now the tradesmen from their tills,
With clerks and porters, crowded near him.

The bulls and bears together drew

From Jauncey Court and New Street Alley, As erst, if pastorals be true,

Came beasts from every wooded valley;
The random passers stayed to list, -
A boxer Ægon, rough and merry,
A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst
With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry.

A one-eyed Cyclops halted long

In tattered cloak of army pattern, And Galatea joined the throng,

A blowsy, apple-vending slattern;

While old Silenus staggered out

From some new-fangled lunch house handy, And bade the piper, with a shout,

To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy!

A newsboy and a peanut girl

Like little Fauns began to caper;
His hair was all in tangled curl,

Her tawny legs were bare and taper;
And still the gathering larger grew,
And gave its pence and crowded nigher,
While aye the shepherd minstrel blew
His pipe, and struck the gamut higher.

O heart of Nature, beating still

With throbs her vernal passion taught her, Even here as on the vine-clad hill,

Or by the Arethusan water!

New forms may fold the speech, new lands
Arise within these ocean portals,

But Music waves eternal wands, -
Enchantress of the souls of mortals!

So thought I,—but among us trod
A man in blue, with legal baton,
And scoffed the vagrant demigod,

And pushed him from the step I sat on.

Doubting, I mused upon the cry,

"Great Pan is dead!"— and all the people

Went on their ways:

and clear and high

The quarter sounded from the steeple.

As the weaver makes his shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.
Threads in single, threads in double;
How they mingle, what a trouble!
Every color, what profusion!
Every motion, what confusion !
While the web and woof are mingling,
Signal bells above are jingling,-
Telling how each figure ranges,
Telling when the color changes,
As the weaver makes his shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

Weaver at his loom is sitting,
Throws his shuttle to and fro;

'Mid the noise and wild confusion, Well the weaver seems to know, As he makes his shuttle go,

What each motion

And commotion,

What each fusion

And confusion,

In the grand results will show.
Weaving daily,

Singing gaily,

As he makes his busy shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

Weaver at his loom is sitting,
Throws his shuttle to and fro;
See you not how shape and order
From the wild confusion grow,
As he makes his shuttle go?-
As the web and woof diminish,
Grows beyond the beauteous finish,-
Tufted plaidings,

Shapes, and shadings;

All the mystery

Now is history;

And we see the reason subtle,

Why the weaver makes his shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

See the Mystic Weaver sitting
High in heaven-His loom below;
Up and down the treadles go;
Takes for web the world's long ages,

Takes for woof its kings and sages,
Takes the nobles and their pages,

Takes all stations and all stages,-
Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle;
Armies make them scud and scuttle;
Web into the woof must flow,
Up and down the nations go,
As the Weaver wills they go';
Men are sparring,

Powers are jarring,

Upward, downward, hither, thither,
See how strange the nations go
Just like puppets in a show.
Up and down the web is plying,
And across the woof is flying.

What a battling!

What a rattling!

What a shuffling!

What a scuffling!

As the Weaver makes His shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.

Calmly see the Mystic Weaver
Throw His shuttle to and fro;
Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the Weaver seems to know
What each motion

And commotion,

What each fusion

And confusion,

In the grand result will show,

As the nations, kings and stations,