13. THE CHAMELEON. FT has it been my lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking spark, With eyes that hardly serv'd at most To guard their master 'gainst a post; Yet round the world the blade had been To see whatever could be seen; Returning from his finish'd tour, Grown ten times perter than before. Whatever words chance to drop, you The travell'd fool your mouth will stop- Two travellers of such a cast, "Hold there!" the other quick replies, I saw it with these eyes, "'Tis green As late with open mouth it lay, "'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye.” "Green!" cries the other in a fury; "Why, sir- d'ye think I've lost my eyes?" ""Twere no great loss," the friend replies. "For, if they always serve you thus, You'll find 'em 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 begged he'd tell 'em if he knew Whether the thing was green or blue. 66 Sirs," cries the umpire, cease your pother; The creature's neither one nor t'other. I caught the animal last night, "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 Produced the beast, and lo!—'twas white! Both stared-the man look'd wondrous wise"My children," the Chameleon cried, (Then first the creature found a tongue,) "You all are right, and all are wrong! When next you speak of what you view, Think others see, as well as you: Nor wonder if you find that none Prefer your eye-sight to their own!" MERRICK. G 14. THE USE OF FLOWERS. OD might have bade the earth bring forth The oak-tree and the cedar-tree, We might have had enough, enough The ore within the mountain mine Nor doth it need the lotus-flower To make the river flow. The clouds might give abundant rain, And the herb that keepeth life in man Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, Our outward life requires them not; To beautify the earth; To comfort man, to whisper hope For who so careth for the flowers HOWITT. 15. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. UR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lower'd, OUR sent tel stars set their watch in the sky, And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, 66 And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart Stay, stay with us! rest! thou art weary and worn!" And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear-melted away! CAMPBELL. 16. THE STORM. MARK VI. 47-51. EAR was within the tossing bark, FEAR When stormy winds grew loud; And men stood breathless in their dread, But One was there, who rose and said And the wind ceased-it ceased-that word The troubled billows knew their Lord, And sank beneath his eye. |