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I swear by Apollo the physician, and Æsculapius, and Health, and All-heal, and all the gods and goddesses, that, according to my ability and judgment, I will keep this Oath and this stipulation—to reckon him who taught me this Art equally dear to me as my parents, to share my substance with him, and relieve his necessities if required ; to look upon his offspring in the same footing as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if they shall wish to learn it, without fee or stipulation ; and that by precept, lecture, and every other mode of instruction, I will impart a knowledge of the Art to my own sons, and those of my teachers; and to disciples bound by a stipulation and oath according to the law of medicine, but to none others. I will follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischiev

I will give no deadly medicine to anyone if asked, nor suggest any such counsel; and in like manner I will not give to a woman a pessary to produce abortion. With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practise my Art. I will not cut persons laboring under the stone, but will leave this to be done by men who are practitioners of this work. Into whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and further, from the seduction of females or males, of freemen and slaves. Whatever, in connection with my professional practice or not in connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret. While I continue to keep this Oath unviolated, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the Art, respected by all men, in all times ! But should I trespass and violate this Oath, may the reverse be my lot.- From The Genuine Works of Hippocrates. Translated by FRANCIS ADAMS, LL.D.

HIRST, HENRY BECK, an American poet, born in Philadelphia, August 23, 1813; died there, March 30, 1874. He began the study of law, but mercantile pursuits interfered with the prosecution of his plans, and it was not until 1843, when he was thirty years of age, that he was admitted to practice. About this time, also, his first poems appeared in Graham's Magasine ; and in 1845 he published The Coming of the Mammoth, The Funeral of Time, and Other Poems. He issued two other volumes of poetry: Endymion, a Tale of Greece (1848); and The Penance of Roland, a Romance of the Peine Forte et Dure, and Other Poems (1849); and was also the author of a work entitled A Poetical Dictionary, or, Popular Terms Illustrated in Rhyme, which was published at Lenox, Mass.

Hirst's longer narratives are wrought into poems of much spirit and beauty ; while his shorter poems, descriptive and reflective, "are eloquent in tone, though with occasional traces of imitation." Duyckinck said of the poems in his first volume, that they "display vigor and feeling," and that his sonnets were “ well written.”

Through a deep dell with mossy hemlocks girded-

A dell by many a sylvan Dryad prest

Which Latmos' lofty crest
Flung half in shadow-where the red deer herded-

While mellow murmurs shook the forests gray-
Endymion took his way.


Like clustering sunlight fell his yellow tresses,

With purple fillet, scarce confining, bound,

Winding their flow around
A snowy throat that thrilled to their caresses,

And trembling on a breast as lucid white

As sea-foam in the night.
His girdle held his pipes—those pipes that clearly

Through Carian meadows mocked the nightingale

When Hesper lit the vale : And now the youth was faint, though stepping cheerly,

Supported by his shepherd's crook, he strode

Toward his remote abode.
Mount Latmos lay before him. Gently gleaming,

A roseate halo from the twilight dim

Hung round its crowd. To him
The rough ascent was light; for, far off, beaming,

Orion rose-and Sirius, like a shield,

Shone on the azure field.
And from the south-the yellow south, all glowing

With blandest beauty--came a gentle breeze,

Murmuring o'er sleeping seas,
Which, bearing dewy lamps, and lightly flowing

Athwart his brow, cooled his hot brain, and stole

Like nectar to his soul.
Endymion blessed the wind ; his bosom swelling

As his parched lips drank in the luscious draught,

His eyes, even while he quaffed,
Brightening; his stagnant blood again upwelling

From his warm heart; and freshened, as with sleep,

He trod the rocky steep. At last he gained the top, and, crowned with splendor,

The moon, arising from the Latmian sea,

Stepped o'er the heavenly lea,
Flinging her misty glances, meek and tender

As a young virgin's o'er his marbled brow

That glistened with their glow.
Endymion watched her rise, his bosom burning

With princely thoughts, for though a shepherd's son,
He felt that Fame is won

Accept the expiation, and forgive
This day's offences. Ha! the wonted strain,
Precursor of his coming! Whence came this?
It seems to flow from some unearthly land.

[Enter Hadad.] Had. Does beauteous Tamar view in this clear

fount Herself or heaven?

Tam.--Now, Hadad, tell me whence These sad, mysterious sounds ?

Had. What sounds, dear princess?

Tam.-Surely, thou knowest ; and now I almost think Some spiritual creature waits on thee.

Had-I heard no sounds but such as evening sends
Up from the city to these quiet shades-
A blended murmur, sweetly harmonizing
With flowing fountains, feathered minstrelsy,
And voices from the hills.

Tam._ The sounds I mean
Floated like mournful music round my head
From unseen fingers.

Had.- When ?
Tam.-Now, as thou camest.

Had.—'Tis but thy fancy, wrought
To ecstacy; or else thy grandsire's harp
Resounding from his tower at eventide.
I've lingered to enjoy its solemn tones
Till the broad moon that rose o'er Olivet
Stood listening in the zenith ; yea, have deemed
Viols and heavenly voices answer him.

Tam.-But these

Had.-Were we in Syria, I might say
The Naiad of the fount, or some sweet Nymph,
The goddess of these shades rejoiced in thee,
And gave thee salutations; but I fear
Judah would call me infidel to Moses.
Tam.--How like my fancy! When these strains

Thy steps, as oft they do, I love to think
Some gentle being who delights in us
Is hovering near, and warns me of thy coming ;
But they are dirge-like.

Had. - Youthful fantasy

Attuned by sadness, makes them seem so, lady ;
So evening's charming voices, welcomed ever
As signs of rest and peace ;—the watchman's call,
The closing gates, the Levite's mellow trump,
Announcing the returning moon, the pipe
Of swains, the bleat, the bark, the housing bell,
Send melancholy to a drooping soul.

Tam.-But how delicious are the pensive dreams
That steal upon the fancy at their call !

Had.- Delicious to behold the world at rest !
Meek labor wipes his brow, and intermits
The curse, to clasp the younglings of his cot ;
Herdsmen and shepherds fold their flocks—and, hark !
What merry strains they send from Olivet !
The jar of life is still ; the city speaks
In gentle murmurs ; voices chime with lutes,
Waked in the streets and gardens : loving pairs
Eye the red west, in one another's arms;
And nature, breathing dew and fragrance, yields
A glimpse of happiness, which He, who formed
Earth and the stars had power to make eternal.
Tam.—Ah, Hadad, meanest thou to reproach the

Who gave so much, because he gave not all ?

Had.-Perfect benevolence, methinks, had willed
Unceasing happiness, and peace, and joy ;
Filled the whole universe of human hearts
With pleasure, like a flowing spring of life.

Tam.-Our Prophet teaches so till man rebelled.

Had. Mighty rebellion! Had he leaguered heaven With beings powerful, numberless, and dreadful, Strong as the enginery that rocks the world When all its pillars tremble; mixed the fires Of onset with annihilating bolts Defensive volleyed from the throne ; this, this Had been rebellion worthy of the name, Worthy of punishment. But what did man ? Tasted an apple ! and the fragile scene, Eden, and innocence, and human bliss, The nectar-flowing streams, life-giving fruits, Celestial shades, and amaranthine flowers, Vanish ; and sorrow, toil, and pain, and death, to him by an everlasting curse.

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