Yes, let me hail and welcome give
To every joy my lot may share,
And pleased and pleasing let me live
With merry heart, that laughs at care.

CHARLES LAMB.

"Exactly so."

A SPEECH, both pithy and concise,
Marks a mind acute and wise;

What speech, my friend, say, do you know,
Can stand before "Exactly so?"

I have a dear and witty friend

Who turns this phrase to every end;
None can deny that "Yes" or "No"
Is meant in this "Exactly so."

Or when a bore his ear assails,
Good-humour in his bosom fails,
No response from his lips will flow,
Save, now and then, " Exactly so."

Is there remark on matters grave
That he may wish perchance to waive,
Or thinks perhaps is rather slow,
He stops it by "Exactly so."

It saves the trouble of a thought-
No sour dispute can thence be sought;
It leaves the thing in statu quo,

This beautiful "Exactly so."

It has another charm this phrase,
For it implies the speaker's praise
Of what has just been said-ergo-
It pleases, this "Exactly so.”

1

Nor need the conscience feel distress,
By answ'ring wrongly "No" or "Yes;"
It 'scapes a falsehood, which is low,
And substitutes "Exactly so."

Each mortal loves to think he's right,

That his opinion, too, is bright;

Then, Christian, you may soothe your foe By chiming in "Exactly so."

Whoe'er these lines may chance peruse,
Of this famed word will see the use,
And mention where'er he may go,
The praises of" Exactly so."

Of this more could my muse relate,
But you, kind reader, I'll not sate;
For if I did you'd cry "Hallo!
I've heard enough"-" Exactly so."

LADY F. HASTINGS.

Address to an Egyptian Mummy.

AND thou hast walk'd about, (how strange a

story!)

In Thebes's street three thousand years ago; When the Memnonium was in all its glory,

And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.

Speak! for thou long enough hast acted dummy,— Thou hast a tongue, come, let us hear its tune: Thou'rt standing on thy legs above ground, Mummy!

Revisiting the glimpses of the moon,

Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features.

Tell us, for doubtless thou canst recollect,

To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame: Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect

Of either pyramid that bears his name?

Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer?

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer?

Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden,

By oath, to tell the mysteries of thy trade; Then say what secret melody was hidden

In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise play'd? Perhaps thou wert a priest, and hast been dealing In human blood, and horrors past revealing.

Perchance that very hand, now pinion'd flat,
Has hob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh, glass to glass:
Or dropp'd a halfpenny in Homer's hat,

Or doff'd thine own to let Queen Dido pass,
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,
A torch at the great Temple's dedication.

I need not ask thee if that hand, when arm'd,
Has any Roman soldier maul'd or knuckled,
For thou wert dead and buried, and embalm'd,
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled;
Antiquity appears to have begun

Long after thy primeval race was run.

Thou couldst develop, if that wither'd tongue

Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen, How the world look'd when it was fresh and

young,

And the great Deluge still had left it green; Or was it then so old, that History's pages Contain'd no record of its early ages!

Still silent, incommunicative elf!

Art sworn to secrecy ? then keep thy vows; But pr'ythee tell us something of thyself,Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house!

Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumber'd, What hast thou seen, what strange adventures number'd?

Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above-ground, seen some strange mutations;

The Roman empire has begun and ended,

New worlds have risen, we have lost old nations,

And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head,

When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,

O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis,

And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder,
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?

If the tomb's secrets may not be confess'd,
The nature of thy private life unfold;

A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast,
And tears adown thy dusty cheeks have roll'd.
Have children climb'd those knees, and kiss'd that

face?

What was thy name and station, age and race?

Statue of flesh-Immortal of the dead!
Imperishable type of evanescence!

Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecay'd within our presence,
Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment-morning,
When the great Trump shall thrill thee with its
warning!

Why should this worthless tegument endure,
If its undying guest be lost for ever?
Oh, let us keep the soul embalm'd and pure
In living virtue; that, when both must sever,
Although corruption may our frame consume,
Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom!

HORACE SMITH.