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I could of this give proofs most stable; But, for example, take a fable.

'Twas night, but still a mimic day Shone softly from the milky way: For now the bright unclouded moon Was "riding in her highest noon ;" Who, as she slowly sail'd along, Beheld a most unusual throng, With eyes up-rais'd devoutly gazing, And heard, "Behold!

zing!"—

see there! ama

"What can this mean?" dame Cynthia said:
"Perhaps," and high she drew her head,
"It is, that I on earth to night
Shine with unwonted beauty bright,
And therefore mortals in amaze
Come crowding forth on me to gaze."-
And then (for heav'nly beauties love,
Like earthly ones, applause to move,)
She stoop'd, within a lake below

To see how look'd her sparkling brow;
And, as her crescent she adjusted,

She thought, if mirrors might be trusted,
That night, so wondrous was her beauty!
To gaze on her was mortals' duty.
But, oh! sad fall to female pride,
She soon with wond'ring looks descried
'Twas not on her that eyes were turn'd;
For her no curious ardour burn'd;

At her no telescopes were aim'd,
Nor wonder at her charms proclaim'd
Some other idol now, she found,
Had fickle man in fetters bound;
And Cynthia was compell'd to own,
Unseen her matchless beauty shone.
"But what," she cried "thus rivals me?
I all the stars and planets see:
Orion has his belt in order;

Of Saturn's ring bright shines the border;
Mars sports his coat of reddest hue;
And Charles has put his horses to :*
But still, these sights so oft are seen,
There's nothing new in them I ween;
And after all, I know, the cry

Is, they are nought when I am by.
'Tis strange; and I shall surely pout
Until I find my rival out,"-
This said, she looked on ev'ry side
With eager looks of wounded pride,
And round with all the spite inspected
Of conscious beauty quite neglected:
When, lo! she saw with wond'ring breast,
Just twinkling in the northern west,
And dimly seen, since seen from far,
A rayless, misty, long-tail'd star;
While homage from her charms was ravish'd
To be on this poor Comet lavish'd.

*The Constellation of the Great Bear, called sometimes Charles's wain.

ADDRESS TO AN EGYPTIAN MUMMY.

HORACE SMITH.

AND thou hast walked about-how strange a story!-
In Thebe's streets three thousand years ago!
When the Memnonium was in all its glory,
And Time had not begun to overthrow
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous,
Of which the very ruins are tremendous !

Speak, for thou long enough hast acted Dummy! Thou hast a tongue-come-let us hear its tune! Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy! Revisiting the glimpses of the Moon;

Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures,

But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features.

Tell us for doubtless thou canst recollect,-
To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame!
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect

Of either Pyramid that bears his name?
Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer?
Had Thebes a hundred gates as sung by Homer?

Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden

By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade,Then say, what secret melody was hidden

In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played? Perhaps thou wert a Priest-if so, my struggles Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles.

Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat,
Hath hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass
Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat;

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass:
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,
A torch at the great Temple's dedication.

I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed,
Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled?
For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed,
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :-
Antiquity appears to have begun

Long after thy primeval race was run.

Thou could'st develope, if that withered tongue
Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen,
How the world looked when it was fresh and young,
And the great Deluge still had left it green !—
Or was it then so old that History's pages
Contained no record of its early ages?

Still silent! Incommunicative elf!

Art sworn to secrecy? then keep thy vows; But, prithee, tell us something of thyself,

Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house;

Since in the world of spirits, thou hast slumbered,

What hast thou seen-what strange adventures numbered!

Since first thy form was in this box extended,

We have, above-ground, seen some strange mutations;

The Roman Empire has begun and ended;

New worlds have risen,-we have lost old nations; And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head
When the great Persian Conqueror, Cambyses,
Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,

And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder,
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?

If the tomb's secrets may not be confess'd,

The nature of thy private life unfold :

A heart hath throbbed beneath that leathern breast,
And tears adown that dusty cheek have roll'd.
Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face?
What was thy name, and station, age, and race?

Statue of flesh!-Immortal of the dead!
Imperishable type of evanescence !

Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecayed within our presence,
Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning,
When the great Trump shall thrill thee with its warning.

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