56 THE GENIE OF OLD. 



By the Ocean of Inde, after ages had passed, 

 An old priest of Arabia sat watching the sea, 



"When the long buried vase by a billow was cast, 

 Mid the thunders of Neptune close up to his knee. 



He was curious to know what the vial might hold, 



And the stopper was drawn, but with tremulous hand, 



When the vapors of ferment in circles unrolled, 

 And spread outward and upward all over the land. 



"'Tis a Genie," the Parsee, in terror exclaimed; 



"I have broken a spell which I cannot repair; 

 By the world I shall be blessed forever or blamed, 



For I've loosened a spirit as free as the air!" 



He said well, for this spirit from prison set free, 

 Is the Peri that rides on the wings of the wind, 



Taking notes of events on the land and the sea, 

 For instruction of men and enlargement of mind. 



From papyrus and style to the parchment and pen, 

 In his flight he improved in adroitness and dress, 



Till he found an ally in emblazonry when 



Gifted Guttenberg's types gave the People The Press. 



Then the Spirit of Wisdom moved over the deep, 

 And the globe felt his lever beneath it in play ; 



The wild winds paid him homage and forces asleep 

 In the earth, air and water acknowledged his sway. 



In the ether of space was a giant concealed, 



Whose hot fleet foot could rival the steeds of the Sun, 



Even he to our Spirit of Light had to yield, 



For he leaves not the field till the battle is won. 



Not a rebel electric, — no physical force, 



Can inertly or active resist with success, 

 The great Spirit of Truth in his conquering course, 



For the Genie of Old, hailed to-day, is The Press ! 



