"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow
I've seen and sure I ought to know." } So, begs you'd pay a due submission, | And acquiesce in his decision.
Two travellers of such a cast, | As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd, And on their way, in friendly chat, | Now talk'd of this', and then of that, I Discours'd a while, 'mongst other matter, | Of the Chameleon's form,
"A stranger animal," cries one, | "Sure never liv'd beneath the sun! | A lizard's body, | lean, and long, | A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, | Its foot with triple claw disjoin'd-1 And what a length of tail' behind! | How slow, its pace.! and then, its hue' - Who ever saw so fine a blue,?" |
"Hold there," the other quick replies, | "'Tis green' I saw it with these eyes, | As late with open mouth, it lay, I
And warm'd it in the sunny ray; | Stretch'd at its ease, the beast I view'd', | And saw it eat the air for food." |
"I've seen it, friend, as well as you', | And must again affirm it blue.. | At leisure, I the beast survey'd', Extended in the cooling shade." |
"'Tis green', 't is green', I can assure ye." "Green!" 'cries the other in a fury, I Why', do you think I've lost my eyes'?" | "'T were no great loss," the friend replies., "For, if they always serve you thus', | You'll find them but of little use."|
So high at last the contest rose', | From words they almost came to blows. :| When luckily came by, a third — | To him the question they referr'd; | And begg'd he'd tell them, if he knew', | Whether the thing was green, or blue. |
"Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother; | The creature's neither one nor t'other. | I caught the. animal last night, |
And view'd it o'er by candle-light: |
I mark'd it well 't was black as jet —; You stare but I have got it yet', |
And can produce' it." | "Pray then do'; | For I am sure the thing is blue.." |
"And I'll' engage that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." | "Well then, at once to end the doubt," | Replies the man, “I'll turn him out、: | And, when before your eyes I've set him, | If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." | He said; then full before their sight, | Produc'd the beast, and lo!-'t was white! |
Both stared: the man look'd wondrous wise—| "My children," | 'the chameleon cries, | (Then first the creature found a tongue) | 2. You all are right, and all are wrong: | When next you talk of what you view,] Think others see as well as you :| Nor wonder if you find that none, Prefers your eye-sight to his own.
THE INVOCATION.
[Written after the death of a sister-in-law.] (MRS. HEMANS.)
Answer me, burning stars of night! | Where hath the spirit gone, | That, past the reach of human sight, | E'en as a breeze, hath flown, ? And the stars answer'd me,
| "We roll In light, and power on high; | But, of the never-dying soul', Ask things that cannot die,!" | O many-toned, and chainless wind 11 Thou art a wanderer free', |
Tell me if thou its place canst find', | Far over mount, and sea, ? | And the wind murmur'd in reply', — | "The blue deep I have cross'd', | And met its barks, and billows high,| But not what thou hast lost!" |
Ye clouds that gorgeously repose | Around the setting sun', |
An'swer! have ye a home for those Whose earthly race is run'? |
The bright clouds answer'd,
We van'ish from the sky; |
Ask what is deathless in thy heart, I For that which cannot die, !" |
Speak, then, thou voice of God within. !I Thou of the deep low tone! |
Answer me through life's restless din', [ Where hath the spirit flown? |
And the voice answer'd,-"Be thou still ! [ Enough to know is given; |
Clouds, winds, and stars their task fulfil,Thine is to trust in Heav'n!" |
HAPPY FREEDOM OF THE MAN WHOM GRACE MAKES FREE.
He is the freeman, whom the truth makes free; | And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain | That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off | With as much ease as Samson his green withes. I He looks abroad into the varied field
Of nature, and, though poor, perhaps, compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, | Calls the delightful scenery all his own. |
His are the mountains; and the valleys his; | And the resplendent riv'ers: | his to enjoy | With a propriety that none can feel, I But who, with filial confidence inspired, Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, | And, smiling, say,-"My Father made them all!"
Are they not his by a peculiar right, | And by an emphasis of in'terest his,
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, | Whose heart with praise', and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love | That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world So clothed with beauty, for rebellious man? |
ye may fill your garners, | ye that reap The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good In senseless riot; but ye will not find In feast', or in the chase, in song', or dance', ! A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong, Appropriates nature as his Father's work, | And has a richer use of yours than you. | He is indeed a freeman: free by birth Of no mean city, plann'd or ere the hills
Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea' | With all his roaring multitude of waves.
His freedom is the same in ev'ry state; | And no condition of this changeful life, 1 So manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day Brings its own evil with it, makes it less.; | For he has wings that neither sickness, pain', Nor penury can cripple, or confine:
No nook so narrow but he spreads them there With ease, and is at large: the oppressor holds His body bound, but knows not what a range His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain; | And that to bind him, is a vain attempt, | Whom God delights in, and in whom he dwells. |
There came to the beach, a poor exile of E rin; ¦ The dew on his thin robe, was heavy, and chill. ; | For his country he sigh'd when at twilight repairing, I To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill ̧ | But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion; | For it rose on his own native isle of the ocean, | Where once, in the fervor of youth's warm emotion, | He sung the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. |
Sad is my fate! (said the heart-broken stranger) The wild-deer, and wolf to a covert can flee; | But I have no refuge from famine, and dan ger:
A home, and a country remain not to me̱ - Never again in the green sunny bowers, Where my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, | And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh,!|
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