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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 travelers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
And on their way in friendly chat,
Now talked of this, and then of that,
Discoursed awhile, '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 disjoined;
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,
“'T is green, I saw it with these eyes,
As late with open mouth it lay,
And warmed it in the sunny ray:
Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed
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 surveyed,
Extended in the cooling shade."
“'T is green, 't is green, sir, I assure ye!" “Green !” cries the other in a fury“Why, sirl-d'ye 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 of but little use."
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 referred,
Ani begged 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 or t’ other.
I caught the animal last night,
And viewed it o'er by candlelight:
I marked it well—'t was black as jet-
You 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 ease 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!-'t was white.
Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise “My children,” the chameleon cries,
(Then first the creature found a tongue), “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 eyesight to his own.”
Maly, uwaly, but Love be Bonny.
O WALY, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burn-side,
Where I and my love wont to gae.
I lean'd my back unto an aik,
And thought it was a trusty tree,
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak',
Sae my true love did lightly me.
O waly, waly but love be bonny,
A little time while it is new,
But when 't is auld it waxeth cauld
And fades away like morning dew.
Oh! wherefore should I busk my head ?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,
And says he 'll never love me mair.
Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be fyled by me,
Saint Anton's well shall be my drink,
Since my true love 's forsaken me.
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves off the tree?
Oh, gentle death/ when wilt thou come?
For of my life I am weary.
'T is not the frost that freezes fell,
Nor blowing snaw's inclemency :
'T is not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely sight to see;
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I mysel' in cramasie.
But had I wist before I kiss'd
That love had been so ill to win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold,
And pinn'd it with a silver pin.
And oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I mysel' were dead and gane,
Wi' the green grass growing over me!
The Tears of Scotland.
MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn!
Thy sons, for valor long renown'd,
Lie slaughter'd on their native ground;
Thy hospitable roofs no more
Invite the stranger to the door;
In smoky ruins sunk they lie,
The monuments of cruelty.
The wretched owner sees afar
His all become the prey
Bethinks him of his babes and wife,
Then smites his breast, and curses life.
Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks,
Where once they fed their wanton flocks:
Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain;
Thy infants perish on the plain.
What boots it then, in every clime,
Through the wide-spreading waste of time,
Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise,
Still shone with undiminish'd blaze ?
Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke,
Thy neck is bended to the yoke.
What foreign arms could never quell,
By civil rage and rancor fell.
The rural pipe and merry lay
No more shall cheer the happy day:
No social scenes of gay delight
Beguile the dreary winter night:
No strains but those of sorrow flow,
And nought be heard but sounds of woe,
While the pale phantoms of the slain
Glide nightly o'er the silent plain.
O baneful cause, O fatal morn,
Accurs'd to ages yet unborn!
The sons against their fathers stood,
The parent shed his children's blood.
Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd,
The victor's soul was not appeas'd:
The naked and forlorn must feel
Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel!
The pious mother doom'd to death,
Forsaken wanders o'er the heath,
The bleak wind whistles round her head,
Her helpless orphans cry for bread;
Bereft of shelter, food, and friend,
She views the shades of night descend,
And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies,
Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies.
While the warm blood bedews my veins,
And unimpair'd remembrance reigns,
Resentment of my country's fate
Within my filial breast shall beat;
And, spite of her insulting foe,
My sympathizing verse shall flow :
“Mourn, hapless Caledonia mourn
Thy banish'd peace thy laurels torn!"