A waking eye, a prying mind, A heart that stirs, is hard to bind; A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind, Ye could not Hester. My sprightly neighbor, gone before When from thy cheerful eyes a ray Moore OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT FT in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken. Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so linked together I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Thus in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. Horace Smith ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AND thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy; Thou hast a tongue, come, let us hear its tune; Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, mummy! Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, But with thy bones and flesh and limbs and features. To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame? Of either pyramid that bears his name? Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer? Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden Perhaps that very hand, now pinioned flat, A torch at the great temple's dedication. I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Long after thy primeval race was run. 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; |