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Discoursed a while, 'mongst other matter,
Of the Chameleon's form and nature.
“A stranger animal,” cries one,
“ Sure never lived 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 ;
And what a length of tail behind !
How slow its pace! and then its hue-
Whoever 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,
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, sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue.
At leisure I the beast survey'd,
Extended in the cooling shade.”

“'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 thirdTo him the question they referr'd; And begg'd he'd tell 'em, 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 candlelight: I mark'd it well—'twas black as jetYou stare—but, sirs, I've got it yet,

And can produce it."-"Pray, sir, do :
I'll lay my life the thing is blue.”
“And I'll be sworn, 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
Produced the beast, and lo !—'twas white.

MERRICK.

SCENE AFTER THE SIEGE OF CORINTH.

ALP wander'd on, along the beach,
Till within the range of a carbine's reach
Of the leaguer'd wall; but they saw him not,
Or how could he 'scape from the hostile shot?
Did traitors lurk in the Christian's hold ?
Were their hands grown stiff, or their hearts wax'd

cold ?
I know not, in sooth; but from yonder wall
There flash'd no fire, and there hissed no ball,
Though he stood beneath the bastion's frov?n,
That flank'd the sea-ward gate of the town;
Though he heard the sound, and could almost tell
The sullen words of the sentinel,
As his measured step on the stone below
Clank'd, as he paced it to and fro;
And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall
Hold o'er the dead their carnival,
Gorging and growling o'er carcass and limb;
They were too busy to bark at him !
From a Tartar's skull they had stripped the flesh,
As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh ;
And their white tusks crunch'd o'er the whiter skull,

As it slipp'd through their jaws when their edge grew

dull, As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead, When they scarce could rise from the spot where they

fed ;

So well had they broken a lingering fast
With those who had fallen for that night's repast.
And Alp knew, by the turbans that rolld on the sand,
The foremost of these were the best of his band.
The scalps were in the wild dog's maw,
The hair was tangled round his jaw ;
But close by the shore, on the edge of the gulf,
There sat a vulture flapping a wolf,
Who had stolen from the hills, but kept away,
Scared by the dogs, from the human prey ;
But he seiz'd on his share of a steed that lay,
Pick’d by the birds, on the sands of the bay !

Alp turn'd him from the sickening sight:
Never had shaken his nerves in fight;
But he better could brook to behold the dying,
Deep in the tide of their warm blood lying,
Scorch'd with the death-thirst, and writhing in vain,
Than the perishing dead who are past all pain.
There is something of pride in the perilous hour,
Whate'er be the shape in which death may lower,
For Fame is there to say who bleeds,
And Honour's eye on daring deeds!
But when all is past, it is humbling to tread
O’er the weltering field of the tombless dead,
And see worms of the earth, and fowls of the air,
Beasts of the forest, all gathering there;
All regarding man as their prey,
All rejoicing in his decay !

BYRON.

Lean dogs.-All over the East, dogs are the great scaven

gers. Compare the account of the death of Jezebel as given in 2 Kings ix. 30-37.

LOCHIEL'S WARNING. Wizard. Lochiel ! Lochiel ! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array ! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight: They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war, What steed to the desert flies frantic and far! 'Tis thine, O Glenullin ! whose bride shall await, Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning: no rider is there; But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. Weep, Albin! to death and captivity led ! Oh weep! but thy tears cannot number the dead : For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave. Lochiel. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling

seer ! Or, if gory

Culloden so dreadful appear, Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight! This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. Wizard. Ha! laugh’st thou, Lochiel, my vision to

scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn ! Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultingly forth, From his home, in the dark-rolling clouds of the north ? Lo! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! Ah ! home let him speed—for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast, Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyry, that beacons the darkness of heaven.

O crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might,
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height,
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;
Return to thy dwelling! all lonely, return!
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,
And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.

Lochiel. False Wizard, avaunt ! I have marshalled

my clan :

Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one ! They are true to the last of their blood and their

breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock! Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock ! But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause, When Albin her claymore indignantly draws; When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud ; All plaided and plumed in their tartan array

Wizard. Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day! For, dark and despairing, iny sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal : 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring With the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive

king Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold, where he flies on his desolate path ! Now, in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my

sight: Rise ! rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight! 'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors ; Culloden is lost, and my country deplores : But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where? For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn, Like a limb from his cou ry cast blee and torn ?

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