ADDRESS TO AN EGYPTIAN MUMMY. AND thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!) Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy,- Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, Tell us, for doubtless thou canst recollect, Of either pyramid that bears his name? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer? Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade; Then say what secret melody was hidden In Memnon's statue which at sun-rise played? Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 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, 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 prithee tell us something of thyself, Reveal the secrets of thy prison house! Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumbered, What thou hast 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, Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face? Statue of flesh-Immortal of the dead! Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, And standest undecayed within our presence, If its undying guest be lost for ever? In living virtue; that, when both must sever, THE ANSWER OF THE EGYPTIAN MUMMY. Thebes was my birth-place-an unrivalled city, OI could read you quite a Theban lecture, But then you would not have me throw discredit 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, 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 Not half the size: but then I'm sadly dwindled; For this lean hand did one day hurl the lance This heart hath throbbed at tales of love and woe, In vain the skilful hand, and feelings warm, All bowed at once to Death's mysterious will, Where cows and monkies squat in rich brocade, With scarlet flounces, and with varnished faces; Men, birds, brutes, reptiles, fish, all crammed together, With ladies that might pass for well-tanned leather. Where Rameses and Sabacon lie down, And splendid Psammis in his hide of crust; Princes and heroes, men of high renown, Who in their day kicked up a mighty dust,Their swarthy Mummies kicked up dust in numbers, When huge Belzoni came to scare their slumbers! Who'd think these rusty hams of mine were seated At Dido's table, when the wondrous tale Of" Juno's hatred" was so well repeated? And ever and anon the queen turned pale; Meanwhile the brilliant gas-lights, hung above her, Threw a wild glare upon her shipwrecked lover. Aye, gas-lights! mock me not; we men of yore Were versed in all the knowledge you can mention ; Who hath not heard of Egypt's peerless lore? Her patient toil? acuteness of invention? Survey the proofs,-our Pyramids are thriving,Old Memnon still looks young, and I'm surviving. A land in arts and sciences prolific, On blocks gigantic building up her fame! This, and the other secrets thou shalt hear; |