I've seen

"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — | 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, and nature.

"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
And what a length of tail, behind! |
How slow, its pace! and then, its hue' — {
Who ever saw so fine a blue, ?" |

I

"Hold there," the other quick replies, |

66

"'Tis green' I saw it with these, eyes, |
As late with open mouth, it lay,
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." 1

"'Tis green', 't is green', I can assure ye." | "Green!" 'cries the other in a fury,- | "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." |

66

So high at last the contest rose', |
From words they almost came to blows: |
When luckily came by, a third T
To him the question they referr'd; |
And begg'd he'd tell them, if he knew', |
Whether the thing was green, or blue. |

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"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." |

I

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! |
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, I'
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 depart, |
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!!
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.

(COWPER.)

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
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. |

green withes. I

His are the moun'tains; and the valleys his; |
And the resplendent riv'ers: | his to enjoy |
With a propriety that none can feel, |
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
L
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love |
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world |
So clothed with beauty, for rebellious man、? |

I

Yesye 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, I 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 o'pen'd, or the sea'
With all his roaring multitude of waves. I

His freedom is the same in ev'ry state; |
And no condition of this changeful life, |
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 :|
I

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,. }

THE EXILE OF ERIN.

(CAMPBELL.)

There came to the beach, a poor exile of Erin;

The dew on his thin robe, was heavy, and chill; 1 For his country he sigh'd when at twilight repairing, | 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 fervour 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 danger:| A home, and a country remain not to me 1 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 ! |