minded, unsympathizing
mortals, make their occasional distrust of themselves, appear but as a
phase of self-conceit. Whereas, the man who, in the presence of his
very friends, parades a barred and bolted front,--that man so highly
prizes his sweet self, that he cares not to profane the shrine he
worships, by throwing open its portals. He is locked up; and Ego is
the key. Reserve alone is vanity. But all mankind are egotists. The
world revolves upon an I; and we upon ourselves; for we are our own
worlds:--all other men as strangers, from outlandish, distant climes,
going clad in furs. Then, whate'er they be, let us show our worlds;
and not seek to hide from men, what Oro knows."

"Truth, my lord," said Yoomy, "but all this applies to men in mass;
not specially, to my poor craft. Of all mortals, we poets are most
subject to contrary moods. Now, heaven over heaven in the skies; now
layer under layer in the dust. This, the penalty we pay for being what
we are. But Mardi only sees, or thinks it sees, the tokens of our
self-complacency: whereas, all our agonies operate unseen. Poets are
only seen when they soar."

"The song! the song!" cried Media. "Never mind the metaphysics of
genius."

And Yoomy, thus clamorously invoked, hemmed thrice, tuning his voice
for the air.

But here, be it said, that the minstrel was miraculously gifted with
three voices; and, upon occasions, like a mocking-bird, was a concert
of sweet sounds in himself. Had kind friends died, and bequeathed him
their voices? But hark! in a low, mild tenor, he begins:--

Half-railed above the hills, yet rosy bright,
Stands fresh, and fair, the meek and blushing morn!
So Yillah looks! her pensive eyes the stars,
That mildly beam from out her cheek's young dawn!

But the still meek Dawn,
Is not aye the form
Of Yillah nor Morn!
Soon rises the sun,
Day's race to run:
His rays abroad,
Flash each a sword,--
And merrily forth they flare!
Sun-music in the air!
So Yillah now rises and flashes!
Rays shooting from ont her long lashes,--
Sun-music in the air!

Her laugh! How it bounds!
Bright cascade of sounds!
Peal after peal, and ringing afar,--
Ringing of waters, that silvery jar,
From basin to basin fast falling!