To The Mammoth-Tortoise Of The Mascarene Islands.

"Tuque, Testudo, resonare septem     Callida nervis."     Hor. iii. 11.     Monster Chelonian, you suggest     To some, no doubt, the calm,--     The torpid ease of islets drest     In fan-like fern and palm;     To some your cumbrous ways, perchance,     Darwinian dreams recall;     And some your Rip-van-Winkle glance,     And ancient youth appal;     So widely varied views dispose:     But not so mine,--for me     Your vasty vault but simply shows     A LYRE immense, per se,     A LYRE to which the Muse might chant     A truly "Orphic tale,"     Could she but find that public want,     A Bard--of equal scale!     Oh, for a Bard of awful words,     And lungs serenely strong,     To sweep from your sonorous chords     Niagaras of song,     Till, dinned by that tremendous strain,     The grovelling world aghast,     Should leave its paltry greed of gain,     And mend its ways ... at last!