 | Young Arthur |  |
Young Allan he stood 'neath the sultry sky
Of the barren, yet beautiful, Araby;
Where roves the rude native by law unrestrain'd,
By freedom made bold, and by plunder maintain'd;
His dwelling a tent, rudely pitch'd where he roves,
But to point out its scite hospitality loves:
A lesson to you, O, ye graceful and gay,
In courts or in circles who flutter your day:
A lesson to you, who philosophy trace;
Go, learn one true rule from wild Araby's race;
A lesson to you in the cross who believe,
From the Arab one trait of your duty receive:
In his tent no deceit, all is sacred and sure;
At his door no rude porter to banish the poor
The Arab a pledge deems from heaven who halt
In his tent, and partake of his bread and his salt;
And one Christian precept his sympathies yield,
If his enemy claims it his roof is a shield.
Can ye boast as much, ye blind leaders of blind,
Who religion in trammels and phantasies bind?
Sanctimonious professors, how oft at your door
May one see the dust shook from the feet of the poor;
A witness against you in that proving day
When the heart shall be bar'd; and God's sentence display,
In religion there's more than to preach and to pray?
See your friend, e'en your friend, at your board, when he's full
“Of the things of this world,” and he's welcome's as wool,
Soft, warm, and inviting; but blows the wind cold?
Does he want? no warm welcomes his sorrows enfold,
But the wool thread-bare grows as a tale often told.
How oft do your actions the riddle impart
Of the tongue tipp'd with honey, yet gall in the heart?
The friend whom your homage shall banquet to day
To-morrow your profit shall spurn and betray:
Yet religion's profession's the badge of your tribes;
So the wing'd chemist's balsam the spider imbibes,
If it falls in his way; which, distill'd in his frame,
Becomes venom, and death is its issue and aim.
“Go learn what that means”—He who only can save
Express'd, “I will mercy, not sacrifice have,”
Go learn, and when taught the pure precept pursue,
Or the Arab, professor's, a Christian to you.
Of the barren, yet beautiful, Araby;
Where roves the rude native by law unrestrain'd,
By freedom made bold, and by plunder maintain'd;
His dwelling a tent, rudely pitch'd where he roves,
But to point out its scite hospitality loves:
A lesson to you, O, ye graceful and gay,
In courts or in circles who flutter your day:
A lesson to you, who philosophy trace;
Go, learn one true rule from wild Araby's race;
A lesson to you in the cross who believe,
From the Arab one trait of your duty receive:
In his tent no deceit, all is sacred and sure;
At his door no rude porter to banish the poor
168
In his tent, and partake of his bread and his salt;
And one Christian precept his sympathies yield,
If his enemy claims it his roof is a shield.
Can ye boast as much, ye blind leaders of blind,
Who religion in trammels and phantasies bind?
Sanctimonious professors, how oft at your door
May one see the dust shook from the feet of the poor;
A witness against you in that proving day
When the heart shall be bar'd; and God's sentence display,
In religion there's more than to preach and to pray?
See your friend, e'en your friend, at your board, when he's full
“Of the things of this world,” and he's welcome's as wool,
Soft, warm, and inviting; but blows the wind cold?
Does he want? no warm welcomes his sorrows enfold,
But the wool thread-bare grows as a tale often told.
169
Of the tongue tipp'd with honey, yet gall in the heart?
The friend whom your homage shall banquet to day
To-morrow your profit shall spurn and betray:
Yet religion's profession's the badge of your tribes;
So the wing'd chemist's balsam the spider imbibes,
If it falls in his way; which, distill'd in his frame,
Becomes venom, and death is its issue and aim.
“Go learn what that means”—He who only can save
Express'd, “I will mercy, not sacrifice have,”
Go learn, and when taught the pure precept pursue,
Or the Arab, professor's, a Christian to you.
Bread and salt bear so sacred a character with an Arabian, that should his mortal enemy enter his house and taste of either he ensures to himself the most religious exercise of the rites of hospitality; the host conceiving himself bound to risk even his life for his guest's safety.
I wish distinctly to be understood, I refer only to the sanctimonious and not to the sect. The Deity permits difference in opinion to exist for his own wise purposes; and as Hervey observes pertinently on the subject, a bed of pinks presents varieties, but still they are all pinks—we certainly quarrel more about opinion than religion.
| Young Arthur | |