(_For the Mirror._)
On the day of their creation, the trees boasted one to another, of their
excellence. "Me, the Lord planted!" said the lofty cedar;--"strength,
fragrance, and longevity, he bestowed on me."
"Jehovah fashioned me to be a blessing," said the shadowy palm;
"utility and beauty he united in my form." The apple-tree, said, "Like
a bridegroom among youths, I glow in my beauty amidst the trees of the
grove!" The myrtle, said, "Like the rose among briars, so am I amidst
the other shrubs." Thus all boasted;--the olive and the fig-tree--and
even the fir.
The vine, alone, drooped silent to the ground! "To me," thought he,
"every thing seems to have been refused;--I have neither stem--nor
branches--nor flowers,--but such as _I am_, I will hope and wait."
The vine bent down its shoots, and wept!
Not long had the vine to wait; for, behold, the divinity of earth, man,
drew nigh; he saw the feeble, helpless, plant trailing its honours along
the soil:--in pity, he lifted up the recumbent shoots, and twined the
feeble plant around his own bower.
Now the winds played with its leaves and tendrils; and the warmth of the
sun began to empurple its hard green grapes, and to prepare within them
a sweet and delicious juice.
Decked with its rich clusters, the vine leaned towards its master, who
tasted its refreshing fruit and juicy beverage; and he named the vine,
his friend and favourite.
Despair not, ye forsaken; bear--be patient,--and strive.
From the insignificant reed flows the sweetest of juices;--from the
bending vine springs the most delightful drink of the earth.
* * * * *