And then
methought my dream was changed;—
The streets
no longer rang
Hushed were
the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
The sun
grew dark with mystery,
The morn
was cold and chill,
As the shadow
of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;—
As the shadow
of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
Hosanna
in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
And once
again the scene was changed—
New earth
there seemed to be;
I saw the
Holy City beside the tideless sea;
The light
of God was on its streets,
The gates
were open wide,
And all
who would might enter,
And no one
was denied.
No need
of moon or stars by night,
Nor sun
to shine by day;
It was the
New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,—
It was the
New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o’er,
Hosanna
in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!
* * * *
*
47
trea’ son eu’ lo gies de bat’
ed phi los’ o phy in ge nu’ i ty ap
pro’ pri ate con’ sum ma ted
Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop
was ordered to furnish the choicest dainties that
money could procure. The first course consisted
of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with
appropriate sauces. This gave rise to much mirth
and many witty remarks by the guests. The second
course was also nothing but tongues, and so with the
third and fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke,
and Xanthus demanded in an angry manner of Aesop,
“Did I not tell you to provide the choicest
dainties that money could procure?” “And
what excels the tongue?” replied Aesop, “It
is the channel of learning and philosophy. By
it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried
on, contracts executed, and marriages consummated.
Nothing is equal to the tongue.” The company
applauded Aesop’s wit, and good feeling was
restored.
“Well,” said Xanthus to the guests, “pray
do me the favor of dining with me again to-morrow.
I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow,”
said he, turning to Aesop, “provide us with
the worst meat you can find.” The next
day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment
and the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided.
“How, sir,” said Xanthus, “should
tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
another?” “What,” replied Aesop,
“can be worse than the tongue? What wickedness
is there under the sun that it has not a part in?
Treasons, violence, injustice, fraud, are debated
and resolved upon, and communicated by the tongue.
It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of private
friendships.” The company were more than
ever struck by Aesop’s ingenuity, and they interceded
for him with his master.
