Poems of James Russell Lowell Part 81

Good Parson Wilbur, too, avers (Though to be mixed in parish stirs Is worse than handling chestnut-burs) That no case to his mind occurs Where spirits ever did converse Save in a kind of guttural Erse.

(So say the best authorities;) And that a charge by raps conveyed, Should be most scrupulously weighed And searched into, before it is Made public, since it may give pain That cannot soon be cured again, And one word may infix a stain Which ten cannot gloss over, Though speaking for his private part, He is rejoiced with all his heart Miss Knott missed not her lover.

AN ORIENTAL APOLOGUE.

I.

Somewhere in India, upon a time, (Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse) There dwelt two saints whose privilege sublime It was to sit and watch the world grow worse, Their only care (in that delicious clime) At proper intervals to pray and curse; Pracrit the dialect each prudent brother Used for himself, d.a.m.nonian for the other.

II.

One half the time of each was spent in praying For blessings on his own unworthy head, The other half in fearfully portraying Where certain folks would go when they were dead; This system of exchanges--there's no saying To what more solid barter 'twould have led, But that a river, vext with boils and swellings At rainy times, kept peace between their dwellings,

III.

So they two played at wordy battledore And kept a curse forever in the air, Flying this way or that from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e; No other labor did this holy pair, Clothed and supported from the lavish store Which crowds lanigerous brought with daily care; They toiled not neither did they spin; their bias Was tow'rd the harder task of being pious.

IV.

Each from his hut rushed six score times a day, Like a great canon of the Church full-rammed With cartridge theologic, (so to say,) Touched himself off, and then, recoiling, slammed His hovel's door behind him in a way That to his foe said plainly--_you'll_ be d.a.m.ned; And so like Potts and Wainwright, shrill and strong The two D--D'd each other all day long.

V.

One was a dancing Dervise, a Mohammedan, The other was a Hindoo, a gymnosophist; One kept his whatd'yecallit and his Ramadan, Laughing to scorn the sacred rites and laws of his Transfluvial rival, who, in turn, called Ahmed an Old top, and, as a clincher, shook across a fist With nails six inches long, yet lifted not His eyes from off his navel's mystic knot.

VI.

"Who whirls not round six thousand times an hour Will go," screamed Ahmed, "to the evil place; May he eat dirt, and may the dog and Giaour Defile the graves of him and all his race; Allah loves faithful souls and gives them power To spin till they are purple in the face; Some folks get you know what, but he that pure is Earns Paradise and ninety thousand houries."

VII.

"Upon the silver mountain, South by East, Sits Brahma fed upon the sacred bean; He loves those men whose nails are still increased, Who all their lives keep ugly, foul and lean; 'Tis of his grace that not a bird or beast Adorned with claws like mine was ever seen; The suns and stars are Brahma's thoughts divine Even as these trees I seem to see are mine."

VIII.

"Thou seem'st to see, indeed!" roared Ahmed back.

"Were I but once across this plaguy stream, With a stout sapling in my hand, one whack On those lank ribs would rid thee of that Dream!

Thy Brahma-blasphemy is ipecac To my soul's stomach; could'st thou grasp the scheme Of true redemption, thou would'st know that Deity Whirls by a kind of blessed spontaneity.

IX.

"And this it is which keeps our earth here going With all the stars."--"O, vile! but there's a place Prepared for such; to think of Brahma throwing Worlds like a juggler's b.a.l.l.s up into s.p.a.ce!

Why, not so much as a smooth lotos blowing Is e'er allowed that silence to efface Which broods around Brahma, and our earth, 'tis known, Rests on a tortoise, moveless as this stone."

X.

So they kept up their banning amebean, When suddenly came floating down the stream A youth whose face like an incarnate paean Glowed, 'twas so full of grandeur and of gleam; "If there _be_ G.o.ds, then, doubtless, this must be one."

Thought both at once, and then began to scream, "Surely, whate'er immortals know, thou knowest, Decide between us twain before thou goest!"

XI.

The youth was drifting in a slim canoe Most like a huge white waterlily's petal, But neither of our theologians knew Whereof 'twas made; whether of heavenly metal Unknown, or of a vast pearl split in two And hollowed, was a point they could not settle; 'Twas good debate-seed, though, and bore large fruit In after years of many a tart dispute.

XII.

There were no wings upon the stranger's shoulders And yet he seemed so capable of rising That, had he soared like thistledown, beholders Had thought the circ.u.mstance noways surprising; Enough that he remained, and, when the scolders Hailed him as umpire in their vocal prize-ring, The painter of his boat he lightly threw Around a lotos-stem, and brought her to.

XIII.

The strange youth had a look as if he might Have trod far planets where the atmosphere, (Of n.o.bler temper) steeps the face with light, Just as our skins are tanned and freckled here; His air was that of a cosmopolite In the wide universe from sphere to sphere; Perhaps he was (his face had such grave beauty) An officer of Saturn's guards off duty.

XIV.

Both saints began to unfold their tales at once, Both wished their tales, like simial ones, prehensile, That they might seize his ear; _fool!_ _knave!_ and _dunce!_ Flew zigzag back and forth, like strokes of pencil In a child's fingers; voluble as duns, They jabbered like the stones on that immense hill In the Arabian Nights; until the stranger Began to think his ear-drum in some danger.

XV.

In general those who nothing have to say Contrive to spend the longest time in doing it; They turn and vary it in every way, Has.h.i.+ng it, stewing it, mincing it, _ragouting_ it; Sometimes they keep it purposely at bay, Then let it slip to be again pursuing it; They drone it, groan it, whisper it and shout it, Refute it, flout it, swear to't, prove it, doubt it.

XVI.

Our saints had practised for some thirty years; Their talk, beginning with a single stem, Spread like a banyan, sending down live piers, Colonies of digression, and, in them, Germs of yet new migrations; once by the ears, They could convey d.a.m.nation in a hem, And blow the pitch of premise-priming off Long syllogistic batteries, with a cough.

XVII.

Each had a theory that the human ear A providential tunnel was, which led To a huge vacuum, (and surely here They showed some knowledge of the general head,) For cant to be decanted through, a mere Auricular ca.n.a.l or raceway to be fed All day and night, in suns.h.i.+ne and in shower, From their vast heads of milk-and-water-power.

XVIII.

The present being a peculiar case, Each with unwonted zeal the other scouted, Put his spurred hobby through its very pace, Pished, pshawed, poohed, horribled, bahed, jeered, sneered, flouted, Sniffed, nonsensed, infideled, fudged, with his face Looked scorn too nicely shaded, to be shouted, And, with each inch of person and of vesture, Contrived to hint some most disdainful gesture.