The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb Volume III Part 47

Said he to Orme, "This African It seems is not by you approv'd; I'll find a way, young Englishman, To have this prejudice remov'd.

"Nearer acquaintance possibly May make you tolerate his hue; At least 'tis my intent to try What a short month may chance to do."

Young Orme and Juba then he led Into a room, in which there were For each of the two boys a bed, A table, and a wicker chair.

He lock'd them in, secur'd the key, That all access to them was stopt; They from without can nothing see; Their food is through a sky-light dropt.

A month in this lone chamber Orme Is sentenc'd during all that time To view no other face or form Than Juba's parch'd by Afric clime.

One word they neither of them spoke The first three days of the first week; On the fourth day the ice was broke; Orme was the first that deign'd to speak.

The dreary silence o'er, both glad To hear of human voice the sound, The Negro and the English lad Comfort in mutual converse found.

Of ships and seas, and foreign coast, Juba can speak, for he has been A voyager: and Orme can boast He London's famous town has seen.

In eager talk they pa.s.s the day, And borrow hours ev'n from the night; So pleasantly time past away, That they have lost their reckoning quite.

And when their master set them free, They thought a week was sure remitted, And thank'd him that their liberty Had been before the time permitted.

Now Orme and Juba are good friends; The school, by Orme's example won, Contend who most shall make amends For former slights to Afric's son.

THE GREAT GRANDFATHER

My father's grandfather lives still, His age is fourscore years and ten; He looks a monument of time, The agedest of aged men.

Though years lie on him like a load, A happier man you will not see Than he, whenever he can get His great grand-children on his knee.

When we our parents have displeas'd, He stands between us as a screen; By him our good deeds in the sun, Our bad ones in the shade are seen.

His love's a line that's long drawn out, Yet lasteth firm unto the end; His heart is oak, yet unto us It like the gentlest reed can bend.

A fighting soldier he has been-- Yet by his manners you would guess, That he his whole long life had spent In scenes of country quietness.

His talk is all of things long past, For modern facts no pleasure yield-- Of the fam'd year of forty-five, Of William, and Culloden's field.

The deeds of this eventful age, Which princes from their thrones have hurl'd, Can no more interest wake in him Than stories of another world.

When I his length of days revolve, How like a strong tree he hath stood, It brings into my mind almost Those patriarchs old before the flood.

THE SPARTAN BOY

When I the memory repeat Of the heroic actions great, Which, in contempt of pain and death, Were done by men who drew their breath In ages past, I find no deed That can in fort.i.tude exceed The n.o.ble Boy, in Sparta bred, Who in the temple minist'red.

By the sacrifice he stands, The lighted incense in his hands.

Through the smoking censer's lid Dropp'd a burning coal, which slid Into his sleeve, and pa.s.sed in Between the folds ev'n to the skin.

Dire was the pain which then he prov'd; But not for this his sleeve he mov'd, Or would the scorching ember shake Out from the folds, lest it should make Any confusion, or excite Disturbance at the sacred rite.

But close he kept the burning coal, Till it eat itself a hole In his flesh. The slanders by Saw no sign, and heard no cry, Of his pangs had no discerning, Till they smell'd the flesh aburning All this he did in n.o.ble scorn, And for he was a Spartan born.

Young student, who this story readest, And with the same thy thoughts now feedest, Thy weaker nerves might thee forbid To do the thing the Spartan did; Thy feebler heart could not sustain Such dire extremity of pain.

But in this story thou mayst see, What may useful prove to thee.

By his example thou wilt find, That to the ingenuous mind Shame can greater anguish bring Than the body's suffering; That pain is not the worst of ills, Not when it the body kills; That in fair religion's cause, For thy country, or the laws, When occasion due shall offer 'Tis reproachful _not to suffer._ If thou shouldst a soldier be, And a wound should trouble thee, If without the soldier's fame Thou to chance shouldst owe a maim, Do not for a little pain On thy manhood bring a stain; But to keep thy spirits whole, Think on the Spartan and the _coal._

QUEEN ORIANA'S DREAM

(_Text of 1818_)

On a bank with roses shaded, Whose sweet scent the violets aided, Violets whose breath alone Yields but feeble smell or none, (Sweeter bed Jove ne'er repos'd on When his eyes Olympus closed on,) While o'er head six slaves did hold Canopy of cloth o' gold, And two more did music keep, Which might Juno lull to sleep, Oriana who was queen To the mighty Tamerlane, That was lord of all the land Between Thrace and Samarchand, While the noon-tide fervor beam'd, Mused herself to sleep, and _dream'd_.

Thus far, in magnific strain, A young poet sooth'd his vein, But he had nor prose nor numbers To express a princess' slumbers.-- Youthful Richard had strange fancies, Was deep versed in old romances, And could talk whole hours upon The great Cham and Prester John,-- Tell the field in which the Sophi From the Tartar won a trophy-- What he read with such delight of, Thought he could as eas'ly write of-- But his over-young invention Kept not pace with brave intention.

Twenty suns did rise and set, And he could no further get; But, unable to proceed, Made a virtue out of need, And, his labours wiselier deem'd of, Did omit _what the queen dream'd of._

ON A PICTURE OF THE FINDING OF MOSES BY PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER

This Picture does the story express Of Moses in the Bulrushes.

How livelily the painter's hand By colours makes us understand!

Moses that little infant is.

This figure is his sister. This Fine stately lady is no less A personage than a princess, Daughter of Pharaoh, Egypt's king; Whom Providence did hither bring This little Hebrew child to save.

See how near the perilous wave He lies exposed in the ark, His rushy cradle, his frail bark!

Pharaoh, king of Egypt land, In his greatness gave command To his slaves, they should destroy Every new-born Hebrew boy.

This Moses was an Hebrew's son.

When he was born, his birth to none His mother told, to none reveal'd, But kept her goodly child conceal'd.

Three months she hid him; then she wrought With Bulrushes this ark, and brought Him in it to this river's side, Carefully looking far and wide To see that no Egyptian eye Her ark-hid treasure should espy.

Among the river-flags she lays The child. Near him his sister stays.

We may imagine her affright, When the king's daughter is in sight.

Soon the princess will perceive The ark among the flags, and give Command to her attendant maid That its contents shall be display'd.

Within the ark the child is found, And now he utters mournful sound.

Behold he weeps, as if he were Afraid of cruel Egypt's heir!

She speaks, she says, "This little one I will protect, though he the son Be of an Hebrew." Every word She speaks is by the sister heard.

And now observe, this is the part The painter chose to show his art.

Look at the sister's eager eye, As here she seems advancing nigh.

Lowly she bends, says, "Shall I go And call a nurse to thee? I know A Hebrew woman liveth near, Great lady, shall I bring her here?"

See! Pharaoh's daughter answers, "Go."-- No more the painter's art can show.

He cannot make his figures move.-- On the light wings of swiftest love The girl will fly to bring the mother To be the nurse, she'll bring no other.

To her will Pharaoh's daughter say, "Take this child from me away: For wages nurse him. To my home At proper age this child may come.

When to our palace he is brought, Wise masters shall for him be sought To train him up, befitting one I would protect as my own son.

And Moses be a name unto him, Because I from the waters drew him."

DAVID

It is not always to the strong Victorious battle shall belong.

This found Goliath huge and tall: Mightiest giant of them all, Who in the proud Philistian host Defied Israel with boast.

With loud voice Goliath said: "Hear, armed Israel, gathered, And in array against us set: Ye shall alone by me be met.