My will is conquered by her won't! Consider I must have a lid, But in it, till she hatched, must stay. Until I fear she might be dead; And then, when I had made her sit down, And now, thinks I, I've got her fast, She'll have to do her work at last. No longer shall I stand the brunt Of this old hen's confounded won't! So I goes in and tells mine folks, And then I takes my pipe and smokes, That 'wouldn't' yields at length to 'would.' I took some 'schnapps' myself, and then A WOMAN'S QUESTION.-ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, I break all slighter bonds, nor feel A shadow of regret: Is there one link within the past Or is thy faith as clear and free As that which I can pledge to thee? Does there within thy dimmest dreams If so, at any pain or cost, Oh, tell me before all is lost! Look deeper still: if thou canst feel, That thou hast kept a portion back, While I have staked the whole, Is there within thy heart a need Lives there within thy nature hid On all things new and strange? It may not be thy fault alone,— But shield my heart against thine own. Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day That fate, and that to-day's mistake- Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou Wilt surely warn and save me now. Nay, answer not,-I dare not hear; The words would come too late; Yet I would spare thee all remorse, So comfort thee, my fate; Whatever on my heart may fall, Remember, I would risk it all! ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBI- And thou hast walked about (How strange a story!) Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy; 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? By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade,— In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played? Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass; I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Long after thy primeval race was run. Thou couldst develop-if that withered tongue Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen How the world looked when it was fresh and young, 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; Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast, Statue of flesh,-immortal of the dead! Posthumous man, who quit'st thy narrow bed, And standest undecayed within our presence! Why should this worthless tegument endure, ANSWER OF "BELZONI'S" MUMMY. Child of the later days! thy words have broken A spell that long has bound these lungs of clay,- Thebes was my birth-place, an unrivalled city Oh, I could read you quite a Theban lecture, But then you would not have me throw discredit On grave historians, or on him who sung The Iliad; true it is, I never read it, But heard it read when I was very young. An old blind minstrel for a trifling profit 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, Were 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 high; 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; For this lean hand did one day hurl the lance NN |