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Chapter 394 : Two travelers of such a cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they pa.s.sed, And on t

Two travelers of such a cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they pa.s.sed, 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, "'Tis 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."

"'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I a.s.sure ye!"

"Green!" cries the other in a fury-- "Why, sir!--d'ye think I've lost my eyes?"

"'Twere 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, And 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 p.r.o.nounce 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!--'twas 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."

After De La Motte, by James Merrick [1720-1769]

THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT A Hindoo Fable

It was six men of Indostan To learning much inclined, Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation Might satisfy his mind.

The First approached the Elephant, And happening to fall Against his broad and st.u.r.dy side, At once began to bawl: "G.o.d bless me! but the Elephant Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk, Cried, "Ho! what have we here So very round and smooth and sharp?

To me 'tis mighty clear This wonder of an Elephant Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal, And happening to take The squirming trunk within his hands, Thus boldly up and spake: "I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out an eager hand, And felt about the knee.

"What most this wondrous beast is like Is mighty plain," quoth he; "'Tis clear enough the Elephant Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth who chanced to touch the ear, Said: "E'en the blindest man Can tell what this resembles most; Deny the fact who can, This marvel of an Elephant Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun About the beast to grope, Than, seizing on the swinging tail That fell within his scope, "I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan Disputed loud and long, Each in his own opinion Exceeding stiff and strong, Though each was partly in the right, And all were in the wrong!

MORAL So oft in theologic wars, The disputants, I ween, Rail on in utter ignorance Of what each other mean, And prate about an Elephant Not one of them has seen!

John G.o.dfrey Saxe [1816-1887]

THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES

A monk, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, In the depths of his cell with its stone-covered floor, Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain; But whether by magic's or alchemy's powers We know not; indeed, 'tis no business of ours.

Perhaps it was only by patience and care, At last, that he brought his invention to bear.

In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away, And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and gray; But success is secure, unless energy fails; And at length he produced the Philosopher's Scales.

"What were they?" you ask. You shall presently see; These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea.

Oh no; for such properties wondrous had they, That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh, Together with articles small or immense, From mountains or planets to atoms of sense.

Naught was there so bulky but there it would lay, And naught so ethereal but there it would stay, And naught so reluctant but in it must go: All which some examples more clearly will show.

The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, Which retained all the wit that had ever been there; As a weight, he threw in the torn sc.r.a.p of a leaf Containing the prayer of the penitent thief; When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell.

One time he put in Alexander the Great, With the garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight; And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, The hero rose up and the garment went down.

A long row of almshouses, amply endowed By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, Next loaded one scale; while the other was pressed By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest: Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce, And down, down the farthing-worth came with a bounce.

By further experiments (no matter how) He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough; A sword with gilt trappings rose up in the scale, Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail; A s.h.i.+eld and a helmet, a buckler and spear, Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear.

A lord and a lady went up at full sail, When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale; Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl, Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and curl, All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence, Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense; A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt, Than one good potato just washed from the dirt; Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice One pearl to outweigh,--'twas the Pearl of Great Price.

Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate, With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight, When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof!

When balanced in air, it ascended on high, And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky; While the scale with the soul in't so mightily fell That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell.

Jane Taylor [1783-1824]

THE MAIDEN AND THE LILY

A lily in my garden grew, Amid the thyme and clover; No fairer lily ever blew, Search all the wide world over.

Its beauty pa.s.sed into my heart: I know 'twas very silly, But I was then a foolish maid, And it--a perfect lily.

One day a learned man came by, With years of knowledge laden, And him I questioned with a sigh, Like any foolish maiden:-- "Wise sir, please tell me wherein lies-- I know the question's silly-- The something that my art defies, And makes a perfect lily."

He smiled, then bending plucked the flower, Then tore it, leaf and petal, And talked to me for full an hour, And thought the point to settle:-- "Therein it lies," at length he cries; And I--I know 'twas silly-- Could only weep and say, "But where-- O doctor, where's my lily?"

John Fraser [1750-1811]