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"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,

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-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."|

66

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.." |

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"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.

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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; |

"We depart, |

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.

(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 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? |

Yes'

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. |

THE EXILE OF ERIN.

(CAMPBELL.)

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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