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THE WREATHS.
This Tale is taken from the following passage in Mr.
D. Israeli's elegant and amusing work, “The Curiosities
of Literature:”—
“I recollect a pretty story, which, in the Talmud or
Gemara, some Rabbi has attributed to Solomon.—
The incident passed as Solomon sat surrounded by his
court. At the foot of the throne stood the inquisitive
Sheba; in each hand she held a wreath of flowers, the
one composed of natural, the other of artificial flowers.
Art, in the labor of the mimic wreath, had
exquisitely emulated the lively hues and the variegated
beauties of nature; so that, at the distance it was held
by the Queen, for the inspection of the King, it was
deemed impossible for him to decide, as her question
imported, which wreath was the natural, and which
the artificial. The sagacious Solomon seemed posed;
yet to be vanquished, though in a trifle, by a trifling
woman, irritated his pride. The son of David—he
who had written treatises on the vegetable productions,
‘from the Cedar to the Hyssop,’ to acknowledge
himself outwitted by a woman, with shreds of paper
and glazed paintings! The honor of the Monarch's
reputation for divine sagacity seemed diminished; and
the whole Jewish court looked solemn and melancholy.
At length an expedient presented itself to the King;
and, it must be confessed, worthy of the natural philosopher.
Observing a cluster of bees hovering about a
window, he commanded that it should be opened; it was
opened, the bees rushed into the court, and alighted
immediately on one of the wreaths, while not a single
one fixed on the other. The decision was not then
difficult; the learned Rabbis shook their beards in
rapture, and the baffled Sheba had one more reason to
be astonished at the wisdom of Solomon!”
Curiosities of Literature, vol. I. page 556.
A TALE.
This Tale is taken from the following passage in Mr. D. Israeli's elegant and amusing work, “The Curiosities of Literature:”—
“I recollect a pretty story, which, in the Talmud or Gemara, some Rabbi has attributed to Solomon.— The incident passed as Solomon sat surrounded by his court. At the foot of the throne stood the inquisitive Sheba; in each hand she held a wreath of flowers, the one composed of natural, the other of artificial flowers. Art, in the labor of the mimic wreath, had exquisitely emulated the lively hues and the variegated beauties of nature; so that, at the distance it was held by the Queen, for the inspection of the King, it was deemed impossible for him to decide, as her question imported, which wreath was the natural, and which the artificial. The sagacious Solomon seemed posed; yet to be vanquished, though in a trifle, by a trifling woman, irritated his pride. The son of David—he who had written treatises on the vegetable productions, ‘from the Cedar to the Hyssop,’ to acknowledge himself outwitted by a woman, with shreds of paper and glazed paintings! The honor of the Monarch's reputation for divine sagacity seemed diminished; and the whole Jewish court looked solemn and melancholy. At length an expedient presented itself to the King; and, it must be confessed, worthy of the natural philosopher. Observing a cluster of bees hovering about a window, he commanded that it should be opened; it was opened, the bees rushed into the court, and alighted immediately on one of the wreaths, while not a single one fixed on the other. The decision was not then difficult; the learned Rabbis shook their beards in rapture, and the baffled Sheba had one more reason to be astonished at the wisdom of Solomon!”
Curiosities of Literature, vol. I. page 556.ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.
With dear Eliza can compare,
Whene'er some sweet, some glad surprise
Bids her soft blushes mantling rise?
But when the fair, on conquest bent,
To charm some favor'd youth intent,
Distrusting her pale maiden rose,
With artificial radiance glows,
At distance still as fair, as true,
The blooming beauty stands to view;
Approach, and all her magic's flown,
Her cheeks their borrow'd tints disown;
And bid Eliza cease to charm.
Then why, sweet Maid! to whom was giv'n
Each gentler grace by favoring Heaven,
In whose fair form and lovely face
The mind's pure excellence we trace,
Oh! why those native charms forego,
For gaudy art's delusive glow?
Forsake the meretricious train,
That people folly's wide domain!
And listen to the tale I sing
Of high Judea's far-fam'd king;
He, whose recorded wisdom bears
The touch-stone of three thousand years,
And will immortal shine,
Bright, as when through the world was known
The name of Solomon alone;
When monarchs bow'd before his throne,
And worshipp'd at his shrine.
Arriv'd fair Sheba's royal dame,
For knowledge much renown'd;
Perchance to prove if just his fame,
Perchance to win his heart, she came
With wit and beauty crown'd.
Howe'er it chanc'd, the learned fair,
By Sheba's sages taught,
Oft hop'd the monarch to ensnare,
With wily questions fraught.
Vain were her hopes, her wishes vain,
Baffled was all the studious train;
Still could that all-pervading mind
A clue to every labyrinth find,
Could learning's gordian knot untie:
Where art was vain, where science fail'd,
Quick-piercing intellect prevail'd;
And sophists fled, and sages quail'd,
Before his radiant eye.
But much on female arts intent,
The crafty queen devis'd a plan,
To tame the pride of lordly man;
Force him to woman's powers to yield,
And baffled, vanquish'd, fly the field.
Two lovely wreaths soon rose to view,
Alike in size, in form, and hue.
The royal fair one saw and prais'd,
And piercing through the courtly ring,
She in each hand a garland rais'd,
And stood before the king.
Rear purer buds or fairer flowers:
For there the blushing roses blow,
There lilies boast their summer snow;
And there each flower of brilliant dye,
That blooms beneath fair Judah's sky,
Or scents the gales of Araby.
The many-color'd blossoms plac'd
Like fragments of the rainbow bright,
In softening, varying, tints unite.
Or lovelier still by contrast's power,
The dark leaves mingle with the flower,
And jasmines on their polish'd bed
Around their pallid lustre shed,
Like stars that gleam in midnight hour.
(Raising the lovely wreaths in air)
“Of nature, and of art the pride,
“To thee I bring. Behold! decide!
“One from the garden's fragrant store,
“To me my duteous maidens bore;
“The artist's imitative hand
“The other fram'd at my command.
“Say, then, great king, most wise of men!
“Say, can thine art the difference ken?”
In doubt and consternation frown'd;
For well they thought no human eye
Could in those wreaths distinction spy.
In each the lily's snowy bell
Was stain'd with fertilizing flour,
And in the jonquil's golden cell
Hung the bright dew-drop's crystal shower.
Low murmurs pass'd around the ring,
Of sorrow, that their far-fam'd king,
Who every shrub and floweret knew,
From herbs that in the valley grew,
To the proud tree of Lebanon,
Should thus, by painted toys misled,
Be doom'd to vail his honor'd head,
By woman's arts o'erthrown.
And calm the haughty monarch sate;
Triumphant pleasure might be seen;
Small cause had he to fear!
For in a window near, a swarm
Of bees their daily task perform,
Their curious fabric rear.
From his high throne a page he sends,
Who straight the casement wide extends.
The clustering tribe, to instinct true,
To nature's living flowerets flew;
To the rich rose delighted clung,
Around the fragrant jasmine hung,
And sipp'd the balmy dew.
Bow'd to the monarch's well-earn'd fame:—
When, towering o'er the flattering ring,
Thus spoke Judea's mighty king:
“'Tis instinct's true unerring power,
“That guides the insect to the flower,
“Bids him to shun art's gaudy bower,
“And fly to Nature's shrine;
“And Man, of wit, of reason proud,
“Might learn from yonder buzzing crowd,
“To fly the false and painted train;
“In Nature's form, in Nature's mind,
“His best, his only blessing find,
“Nor make that blessing vain.”
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