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If so, at any pain or cost,
Look deeper still : if thou canst feel,
Within thy inmost soul,
While I have staked the whole,
That mine cannot fulfil ?
Could better wake or still?
My whole life wither and decay.
The demon-spirit, change,
On all things new and strange ?
And answer to my claim,
Not thou,--had been to blame?
The words would come too late ;
So comfort thee, my fate;
ADDRESS TO TIIE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBI
And thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!)
In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,
And time had not begun to overthrow
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 donbtless thou canst recollect
To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame?
Of either pyramid that bears his name?
By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade,
In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played ? Perhaps thou wert it priest, —if so, my struggles Are vain, for priestcraft neverowns its juggies.
Perhaps that very hand, now pinioned flat,
Has bob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass;
Or dotted thine own to let Queen Dido pass;
Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled;
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :
Thou could'st develop, 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 greeu; 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 last thou seen,-what strange adventures num.
Since first thy form was in this box extended
We bave, above ground, seen some strange mutations ;
New worlds have risen, -we have lost old nations ;
Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head,
When the great Persian conquerer, Cambyses,
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis ;
The nature of thy private life unfold :
And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled ;
Imperishable type of evanescence !
And standest undecayed within our presence !
Why should this worthless tegument endure,
If its undying guest be lost forever?
In living virtue,-that when both must sever,
ANSWER OF THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBI.
CHILD of the later days ! thy words have broken
A spell that long las bound these lungs of clay,–
Three thousand tedious years have rolled away.
Thebes was my birthplace-an unrivalled city
With many gates, but here I might declare
To blow a poet's fabric into air;
But then yon would not have me throw discredit
On grave historians, -or on him who sung The Ilind, -true it is, I never read it,
But heard it read when I was very young. An old blind minstrel for a trifling protit Recited parts,-I think the author of it.
All that I know about the town of Homer
Is that they scarce would own him in his day, Weie glad, too, when he proudly turned a roamer,
Because by this they saved their parish pay. His townsmen would have been ashamed to flout him, Had they foreseen the fuss since made about him.
One blunder I can fairly set at rest !
He says that men were once more big and bony Than now, which is a bouncer at the best;
I'll just refer you to our friend Belzoni, Near seven feet bigh; in truth a lofty figure. Now look at me,-and tell me, ---am I bigger?
Not half the size, but then I'm sadly dwindled;
Three thousand years with that embalming glue Have made a serious difference, and have swindled
My face of all its beauty; there were few Egyptian youths more gay,-behold the sequel. Nay, smile not; you and I may soon be equal.
For this lean hand did one day burl the lance
With mortal aim; this light, fantastic toe Threaded the mystic mazes of the dance ;
This heart has throbbed at tales of love and woo; These slıreds of raven hair once set the fashion; This withered form inspired the tender passion.
In vain; the skilful hand and feelings warm,
The foot that figured in the briglit quadrille,
All bowed at once to Death's niysterious will,
Where cows and monkeys squat in rich brocade,
And well-dressed crocodiles in painteil cases, Rats, bats, and owls, and cats in masquerade,
With scarlet flounces, and with varnished faces; Then birds, brutes, reptiles, fish, all crammed together, With ladies that might pass for well-tanned leather ; Where Rameses and Sabacon lie down,
And splendid Psammis in his bide of crust,
Who in their day kicked up a mighty dust,
At Dido's table, when the wondrous tale
And ever and anou the Queen turned pale. Meanwhile the brilliant gaslights, hung above lier, Threw a wild glare upon her shipwrecked lover.
Ay, gaslights! Mock me not, -we men of yore
Were versed in all the knowledge you can mention; Who hath not heard of Egypt's peerless lore,
Her patient toil, acuteness of invention ? Survey the proofs,--the pyramids are thriving, Old Memuon still looks young, and I'm surviving. A land in arts and sciences prolific,
Oh block gigantic, building up her fame, Crowded with signs and letters hieroglyphic,
Temples and obelisks her skill proclaim ! Yet though her art and toil unearthly seem, Those blocks were brought on railroads and by steam! How, when, and why our people came to rear
The pyrainid of Cheops, ---mighty pile !
I will unfold, if thou wilt stay awhile,
But ah !- What's this! the shades of bards and kings Press on my lips their fingers! What they meau is,
I am not to reveal these lidden things.