page break

—The Swiss Clairvoyant—

From out that free,—that Alpine land,
The glorious land of Tell,
Whose men have won from tyrant's hand—
That which they love so well;

Who've won that liberty which stands—
Foremost on Europe's [unclear: soll]
The useless pomp of king disdain,
Resist their dire control

From this choice land a stranger here,
A mystic stranger he,
Physician of an order rare,
And of the modest fee.

A wondrous poorer he has—occult,
A power which strikes one dumb,
For when with him you would consult,
You're only to be mum.

To daring will he take a trance—
By method he's devis'd,
Then is the quick—the searching glance,
And you're diagnosis'd.

He marks how your interior jogs,
Scans the whole course of life,
Discerns just where your systems clogs,
And where disease is rife.

He takes at will the inside view,
And marks your every scar,
Divides your every pain with you,
And feels just how you are.

And this he does by natural power,—
By some must subtle sense,
Will do it all within the hour,
And for some twelve score pence.

Nor need you his acquaintance make—
If oceans interfere,
For at a pinch a case he'll take—
On just a lock of hair.

Ah Nature's charg'd him with strange power
And with a will as strange,
All things by turn in one short hour,
So given he to change.

Impetuous as the mountain stream—
New fed by melted snows,
Fiery as the scorching beam—
When fresh from Sol it goes.

Impatient of command—control,
He's Nature's wayward child,
Still of the kindly generous soul—
For all this will so wild.

page break

Erratic as a comet fresh—
From the last solar tie,
Swift as the bird from fowler's mesh—
For liberty doth fly.

So round about the earth he sped,
For many a long long year,
By restless spirit ever led—
The wayward course to steer.

But ah! 'neath Austral heavens a star—
Did cross this fitful course,
One with sack mild, such thrilling light,
Nought could withstand its force.

This star of healthy broke its round,
And did his orbit close,
So now to lesser orbit bound,
With us he doth repose.

Now doth his constant presence bless—
With gifts as rare as choice.
Now we to love, and love's success,
Beneath two stars rejoice.

Thus to love's strange, and forceful powers
This wanderer is won !
He's now a citizen of ours,
And Europe's lost a son.

Oh oft way here such manhood drift,
The flower of distant clime.
Those of the rich, the varied gift,—
To build a Nation prime.

And oft may ripened genius roam—
From every foreign land,
To find 'mongst us a fitting home,—
The kindly—welcome—hand.

Now start thee not in high disdain—
At what I here propound,
Let not dull ignorance attain—
To give kind Nature bound.

Nor let blind prejudice aspire—
Our mental growth to limit,
But learn with patience to enquirs—
Ere that thou dost prohibit.

Bethink thee man's not yet explored,
Nor has he reached his prime,
There's gifts within him lavish stored,—
To be reveal'd by time.

Of this be sure his science yet—
Is but the tiny germ,
A tithe of that he will beget—
When comes his further term.

Learn that the little man has won—
But little can explain.
For all that he has found or done,—
There's mysteries yet remain.

page break

Then start thou not in proud contempt—
At what we cannot sound;
Nor let the folly—fear—attempt—
To give Great Nature bound.

So now unto the stranger here—
Thy courtesy extend,
Until a fraud revealed clear,—
Treat thou him as our friend.

With generous care thy ban restrain—
Till for yourself you've tried,
When thou hast found his [unclear: method] rain,—
Then mayest thou [unclear: deride].

Heed not the mix'd, uncertain buzz,
Whether of praise, or blame
But judge of him by what he does,
By this—test thou his [unclear: clam].