ORNITHOLOGICAL QUESTIONS.
ORNITHOLOGICAL QUESTIONS.
I WAS a stout and jolly bird,
With powerful beak and bossy rump;
To travel far were quite absurd,—
Could neither fly nor run nor jump.
Tho' quite extinct - I'm thought so rare,
My breast in France is kept entire ;
One foot in London rests with care,
One foot and head in Oxfordshire.
THERE is a bird which cannot fly,
Pray tell me now the reason why?
The tarsi short and thick, 'tis plain,
Were formed for digging, I maintain.
With tail that never wagged as yet,
The reason, perhaps, you may forget.
The mandibles are downward bent,
And nostrils at the tip give vent.
Come tell me what the stranger bird,
Its habits-country-send me word.
LIKE foot of a camel, bifid is made,
Callous and naked, the sternum is round;
Most wondrously timid and soon is afraid,
Though like a giant it strides o'er the ground.
It may seem very strange-yet very true-
Its nest will have eggs, some thirty at least,
Monstrous in size and beauteous to view,
And one will afford a mighty great feast.
A delicate fare in ancient esteem;
And if we believe it, and surely we may,
Six hundred of brains on
An emperor glutted in Rome's vicious day.
I will not say where its native abode-
How swift it can run or speed on its way;
Or whether by man it was ever yet rode, -
Quick tell me the bird, nor needs its delay.
WHAT IS THOUGHT?
A THOUGHT Comes from thinking? undoubtedly so,-
For in thinking we paint up "Ideas and Co."-
Comparing and judging of colours and forms,
The mind in a trice the process performs.
Not knowing the mode, we cannot declare
How colours are blended, what artist lives there;
Whether eyes or the light doth the object retain,
Impinging and fixing the thought on the brain;
And, acting just like the "Camera Obscura,"
The picture of thought comes valdè matura.
We must leave, then, this question of science
divine,
Nor on secrets decide where God draws the line;
The soul and the intellect doubtless are here,
Each acting on thought as impressions appear.
MASSACRE AT JAFFA. A. D. 1799 (8) WHAT ghastly spectres flit yon Syrian shore! What thousand wounds spirt out with human gore!
I hear the murderous shriek, I see the spirits rise, And call for vengeance in their demon cries:
And Heaven will hear, nor will it hear in vain,
Nor Gallia e'er wash out the bloody stain;
Whoe'er her friends, or who her heroes be,
Jaffa shall mark the spot of-butchery.
Alas! four thousand prisoners murdered lie,—
Could these not plead El Arish* sympathy?
What false expedients urge the cold debate,
And who but basest tyrants seal their fate?
Could human kindred not advance one plea,
To pity move and let the wretch go free?
This worse than Punic faith,-this deed shall be
The foulest blot on war's sad history.
Tyrant, thy proud ambition soon shall fall,
Nor states nor crowns lie prostrate at thy call:
Was Acre thine, - Damascus or the East?
Has false philanthropy thy cause increased?
Have fierce battalions crushed the Moslem
power,
Or Jew, all anxious, blessed thy natal hour?
Shall Austria mourn a new-formed dynasty,
And circling honours crown such cruelty ?
That Providence which eyes both great and small,
"A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,"
Shall surely check ere long thy mad career,
And boasted greatness fade in empty air.
Thyself a prisoner on some barren rock,
Promotheus-like, shalt feel the fated shock;
Nor more shall dreams of martial glory shed
Her golden rays around thy mortal head.
"El Arish," a neighbouring town just previously taken, and the garrison of which was allowed to depart on parole not to serve again against the French. This was alleged by Napoleon as one reason for this Jaffa massacre. He wished to make it appear, and perhaps true it was, that the Jaffa garrison was partly composed of men released from El Arish.
THE SICKLY LITTLE FLOWER.
I HAD a tiny and a sickly flower,
Which held my sympathy from day to day,
Its curling petals drooped,
And rested on the ground.
Water I poured, as warned by summer sun,
Gently around its root and fainting leaves,
And placed congenial mould
To prop its little head.
It soon began to feel the nursing care,
And raised itself and stretched its tender leaves,
And once again to smile
With bloom of blushing health.
Erect-revived—so pleased it seemed to be,
This humble flower in gratitude returns
To me the sweetest scent,
When near its bed I stray.
But long had perished-drooping, wan and faint,
Had Sympathy not lent her watchful aid,
Nor perfumes would have been
In these my evening walks.
It is the same- -if we the law could see
Among ourselves-in acts of charity,
By which we sweeten life
And scent the vale of tears.
For find we always shall a life well spent,
In recollection, leave a grateful sense,
Upon the pious heart,
Of duties well performed.
Penitential: written by King David after his adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of Uriah her husband. The phantom of the murdered man is supposed to haunt the king.
MERCY! - Mercy! God of Mercy!
Nor deep compassion fails Thee not,
In Thy loving-kindness-pity-
My great transgressions, blot them out.
Depraved by nature-wash me well,
And cleanse me from this awful sin,
For every fault to Thee I'll tell,
E'en blackened crime now haunts* within.
O God! I've sinned-confess I must, -
To Thee alone the evil's done;
And, therefore, is Thy sentence just,—
And just the judgment now begun.
When first conceived 'mid Nature's strifet,
'Twas one transgression shaped my form,
"Twas sin that breathed my soul to life,
When trembling atoms first were born.
But Thou, most pure-most just and kind,
In truth wouldst mould the inward part;
So by Thy grace still may I find
Thy wisdom sanctify my
* "Haunts" - English version "ever present:" the Hebrew 7 from 2 obstupuit, is like the Greek Pauá both in sound and meaning, frequentèr, crebrò, &c. ; and it may be resolved again into eaûua and außéw, thence a wonder, apparition: this, no doubt, is the true meaning. † Original sin, called also birth-sin.
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