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MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION.
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,
I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed,
Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled.
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :
Thou couldst develop—if that withered tongue
Might tell us what those sigbtless orbs have seen How the world looked when it was fresh and young,
And the great deluge still had left it green; Or was it then so old that history's pages Contained no record of its early ages ?
Still silent! incommunicative elf!
Art sworn to secrecy ? then keep thy vows; But prythee tell us something of thyself
Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ; Since in the world of spirits thou has slumbered-What hast tho'ı 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 ; And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.
Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head,
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,
O’erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis;
If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold :
And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled;
Statue of flesh-immortal of the dead !
Imperishable type of evanescence ! Posthumous man--who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecayed within our presence ! Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.
Why should this worthless tegument endure,
If its undying guest be lost forever ? 0! let us keep the soul embalmed and pure
In living virtue—that when both must sever, Although corruption may our frame consume, The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom !
Cleopatra Embarking on the Cydnus.
After a Picture by Derby.
“ The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold:
FLUTES in the sunny air !
And harps in the porphyry halls !
With its heart breathed swells and falls !
CLEOPATRA ON THE CYDNUS.
And an echo-like the desert's call,
Flung back to the shouting shores ! And the river's ripple, heard through all,
As it plays with the silver oars ! -
And the amber breezes float,
Around the dancing boat !
She has stepped on the burning sand;
And the thousand tongues are mute :
The strings of his gilded lute !
Beneath his white symar ;
Like the flash of an Eastern star !
Yet the silken streamers quiver,
Away, down the golden river !
Away by the lofty mount !
And away by the lonely shore !
Where fountains gush no more!
Some voice that should have spoken Of climes to be laid waste and bare,
And glad young spirits broken ! Of waters dried away,
And hope and beauty blasted !That scenes so fair and hearts so gay
Should be so early wasted !
A dream of other days !
That land is a desert now !
And grief grew up to dim the blaze
Upon that royal brow !
Blight on the marble plain,
O'er Cleopatra's brain !
Its self-consuming fires,
Its own funereal pyres !
“Live, beauteous, and forever !"
THOMAS K. HERVEY.
Cleopatra at Actium.
THE "HE banners of the world are met upon that wild blue
wave, The sun hath risen that shall set upon an empire's grave; From tongues of many a land bursts forth the war-shout to
the breeze, And half the crowns of all the earth are played for on the
The ocean hath a tinge of blood,-a sound of woe the air; Death swims his pale steed through the flood-O what doth
woman there? The shout of nations, in their strife, rings far along the lea, And what doth Egypt's dark-eyed queen upon that battle-sea i
CLEOPATRA AT ACTIUM.
The Cydnus, hath it not the same bright wave and gentle
flow With which it stole to Tarsus, in those happy years ago, When music haunted all the shores by which its waters rolled, And she came down the river in her galley of the gold?
Her oars were of the silver then, and to her purple sails,
Oh, the old city! and alas ! the young and blessèd dream
float, And love has launched this battle-bark that steered that
And she is yet, to one high heart, through all this cloud of
war, As in that city of the sea, its own and only starThe cynosure that shines as bright, across that place of
graves, As first it rose upon his soul from o'er the Cydnus' waves.
0, love, that is so bold to dare, should be more strong to do, Or what, what doth Egypt there, with that soft, silken
crew ? And she should have a firmer soul who treads the battle-deck; And passion, where it fails to save, is, oh, too sure to wreck