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Where blest he woos some black Aspasia's grace, Of weak barbarians, swarming o'er its breast,
And dreams of freedom in his slave's embrace!! Like vermin, gender'd on the lion's crest ?

Were none but brutes to call that soil their home, In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom,

Where none but demi-gods should dare to roam ? Come, let me lead thee o'er this modern Rome!2

Or worse, thou mighty world! oh! doubly worse, Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow,

Did Heaven design thy lordly land to nurse And what was Goose-Creek once is Tiber now !3—

The motly dregs of every distant clime, This fam'd metropolis, where fancy sees

Each blast of anarchy and taint of crime Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees;

Which Europe shakes from her perturbed sphere, Which travelling fools and gazetteers adorn

In full malignity to rankle here? With shrines unbuilt, and heroes yet unborn, Though nought but wood“ and ******** they see, But hush!-observe that little mount of pines, Where streets should run, and sages ought to be! Where the breeze murmurs, and the fire-fly shines,

There let thy fancy raise, in bold relief, And look, how soft in yonder radiant wave,

The sculptur'd image of that veteran chief, The dying sun prepares his golden grave !

Who lost the rebel's in the hero's name, Oh great Potomac! oh you banks of shade!

And stept o'er prostrate loyalty to fame; You mighty scenes, in nature's morning made,

Beneath whose sword Columbia's patriot train While still, in rich magnificence of prime,

Cast off their monarch, that the mob might reign! She pour’d her wonders, lavishly sublime,

How shall we rank thee upon glory's page ? Nor yet had learn'd to stoop with humbler care,

Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage ! From grand to soft, from wonderful to fair!

Too form’d for peace to act a conqueror's part, Say, were your towering hills, your boundless floods, Too train’d in camps to learn a statesman's artYour rich savannas, and majestic woods,

Nature design'd thee for a hero's mould, Where bards should meditate, and heroes rove,

But ere she cast thee, let the stuff grow cold! And woman charm, and man deserve her love!

While warmer souls command, nay, make their fate, Oh! was a world so bright but born to grace

Thy fate made thee, and forc'd thee to be great. Its own half-organiz'd, half-minded race'

Yet Fortune, who so oft, so blindly sheds
1 The "black Aspasia” of the present ********* of the Her brightest halo round the weakest heads,
United States, “inter Avernales haud ignotissima nymphas” Found thee undazzled, tranquil as before,
has given rise to much pleasantry among the anti-democrat Proud to be useful, scorning to be more;
wits in America.

2 “On the original location of the ground now allotted Less prompt at glory’s than at duty's claim,
for the seat of the Federal City (says Mr. Weld,) the iden- Renown the meed, but self-applause the aim ;
tical spot on which the capitol now stands was called Rome. All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee,
This anecdote is related by many as a certain prognostic of
the future magnificence of this city, which is to be, as it Far less, than all thou hast forborne to be!
were, a second Rome.”Weld's Travels, Letter iv.

3 A little stream that runs through the city, which with Now turn thine eye where faint the moonlight falls intolerable affectation, they have styled the Tiber. It was On yonder dome—and in those princely halls, originally called Goose-Creek.

4 "To be under the necessity of going through a deep If thou canst hate, as, oh! that soul must hate, wood for one or two miles, perhaps, in order to see a next Which loves the virtuous, and reveres the great, door neighbour, and in the same city, is a curious, and I be- If thou canst loathe and execrate with me lieve a novel circumstance."-Weld, Letter iv.

The Federal City (if it must be called a city,) has not That Gallic garbage of philosophy, been much increased since Mr. Weld visited it. Most of the That nauseous slaver of these frantic times, public buildings, which were then in some degree of forward. With which false liberty dilutes her crimes ! ness, have been since utterly suspended. The Hotel is already a ruin; a great part of its roof has fallen in, and the If thou hast got within thy free-born breast, rooms are left to be occupied gratuitously by the miserable One pulse that beats more proudly than the rest, Scotch and Irish emigrants. T'he President's House, a very With honest scorn for that inglorious soul, noble structure, is by no means suited to the philosophical Which creeps and winds beneath a mob's control, the mansion himself, and abandons the rest to a state of un- Which courts the rabble's smile, the rabble's nod, cleanly desolation, which those who are not philosophers And makes, like Egypt, every beast its god! cannot look at without regret. This grand edifice is encircled by a very rude pale, through which a common rustic There, in those walls—but, burning tongue, forbear! stile introduces the visitors of the first man in America. Rank must be reverenc'd, even the rank that's there: With respect to all that is in the house, I shall imitate the So here I pause—and now, my HUME! we part; prudent forbearance of Herodotus, and say, ta de 6V 4Top But oh! full oft, in magic dreams of heart, Ритю.

The private buildings exhibit the same characteristic dis-Thus let us meet, and mingle converse dear play of arrogant speculation and premature ruin, and the By Thames at home, or by Potomac here! few ranges of houses which were begun some years ago, have remained so long waste and unfinished, that they are O'er lake and marsh, through fevers and through fogs, now for the most part dilapidated.

Midst bears and yankees, democrats and frogs, 5 The picture which Buffon and De Pauw have drawn Thy foot shall follow me, thy heart and eyes of the American Indian, though very humiliating, as I can judge, much more correct than the flattering repre- With me shall wonder, and with me despise !2 sentations which Mr. Jefferson has given us. See the Notes on Virginia, where this gentleman endeavours to disprove in general, the opinion maintained so strongly by some phi

1 On a small hill near the capitol, there is to be an equeslosophers, that nature (as Mr. Jefferson expresses it,) belit-trian statue of General Washington. tles her productions in the western world.

2 In the ferment which the French revolution excited attributes the imperfection of animal life in America to the among the democrats of America, and the licentious sym. ravages of a very recent deluge, from who e effec's upon its pathy with which they shared in the wildest excesses of soil and atmosphere it has not yet sufliciently recovered. jacobinism, we may find one source of that vulgarity of See his Recherches sur les Americains, Part i. tom.i. p. 102. Ivice, that hostility to all the graces of life, which distin

M. de Pauw

While I, as oft, in witching thought shall rove
To thee, to friendship, and that land I love,
Where, like the air that fans her fields of green,
Her freedom spreads, unfever'd and serene;
Where sovereign man can condescend to see
The throne and laws more sovereign still than he !

Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain

Unbless'd by the smile he had languish'd to meet : Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him

again, Till the threshold of home had been kiss'd by his

feet! But the lays of his boy-hood had stol'n to their ear,

And they lov'd what they knew of so humble a

name,

THE SNAKE.

1801. My love and I, the other day, Within a myrtle arbour lay, When near us from a rosy bed, A little Snake put forth its head. “See,” said the maid, with laughing eyes“ Yonder the fatal emblem lies! Who could expect such hidden harm Beneath the rose's velvet charm? Never did mortal thought occur

In more unlucky hour than this ;
For oh! I just was leading her

To talk of love and think of bliss.
I rose to kill the snake, but she
In pity pray'd, it might not be.
“No," said the girl-and many a spark

Flash'd from her eyelid, as she said it“ Under the rose, or in the dark,

One might, perhaps, have cause to dread it; But when its wicked eyes appear,

And when we know for what they wink so, One must be very simple, dear,

To let it sting one-don't you think so ?”

And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear,
That they found in his heart something sweeter

than fame!
Nor did woman-oh, womin! whose form and whose

soul
Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue!
Whether sunn'd in the tropics or chill'd at the pole,

If woman be there, there is happiness too!
Nor did she her enamouring magic deny,

That magic his heart had relinquish'd so long,
Like eyes he had loved was her eloquent eye,

Like them did it soften and weep at his song. Oh! bless'd be the tear, and in memory oft

May its sparkle be shed o'er his wandering dream!
Oh! blest be that eye, and may passion as soft,

As free from a pang, ever mellow its beam!
The stranger is gone—but he will not forget,
When at home he shall talk of the toil he has

known,
To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met.

As he stray'd by the wave of the Schuylkill alone!

LINES,

THE FALL OF HEBE.

A DITHYRAMBIC ODE.'

'Twas on a day
When the immortals at their banquet lay;

The bowl
Sparkled with starry dew,
The weeping of those myriad urns of light,
Within whose orbs, the almighty Power,

At Nature's dawning hour,

WRITTEN ON LEAVING PHILADELPHIA.

-τηνδε την πολιν φιλως Ειπων επαξια γαρ.

Sophocl. dip. Colon v. 758.

ALONE by the Schuylkill a wanderer rov'd,

1 Though I call this a Dithyrambic Ode, I cannot presume

to say that it possesses, in any degree, the characteristics of And bright were its flowery banks to his eye; that species of poetry. The nature of the ancient DithyBut far, very far were the friends that he lov'd, ranıbic is very imperfectly known. According to M. Bu

rette, a licentious irregularity of metre, an extravagant And he gaz'd on its flowery banks with a sigh!

research of thought and expression, and a rude embarrassed Oh, nature ! though blessed and bright are thy rays,

construction, are among its most distinguishing features.

He adds, "Čes caractères des dityrambes se font sentir à O'er the brow of creation enchantingly thrown, ceux qui lisent attentivement les odes de Pindare." Yet faint are they all to the lustre that plays

moires de l'Acad. vol. x. p. 306. And the same opinion may In a smile from the heart that is dearly our own!

be collected from Schmidt's dissertation upon the subject. But I think if the Dithyrambics of Pindar were in our pos

session, we should find, that, however wild and fanciful, guishes the present demagogues of the United States, and they were by no means the tasteless jargon they are reprehas become indeed too generally the characteristic of their calls" un beau désordre.” Chiabrera, who has been styled

sented, and that even their irregularity was what Boileau countrymen. But there is another cause of the corruption the Pindar of Italy, and from whom all its poetry upon the of private morals, which, encouraged as it is by the govern-Greek model was called Chiabreresco (as Crescimbeni inment, and identified with the interests of the community, forms us, Lib. i. cap. 12.) has given amongst his Vendemseems to threaten the decay of all honest principle in Ame- mie, a Dithyrambic, "all

' uso de' Greci:" it is full of those rica. I allude to those fraudulent violations of neutrality, compound epithels which, we are told, were a chief characto which they are indebted for the most lucrative part of ter of the style (our IstoUSS EĞsos emocouv. Suid A. Superpo their commerce, and by which they have so long infringed Bofod;) such as and counteracted the maritime rights and advantages of

Briglindorato Pegaso this country. This unwarrautable Irade is necessarily abetted by such a system of collusion, imposture, and perjury,

Nubicalpestator. As cannot fail to spread rapid contamination around it. But I cannot suppose that Pindar, even amidst all the li

R

Stor'd the rich fluid of ethereal soul!!

The Olympian cup
Around,

Burn'd in the hands
Soft odorous clouds, that upward wing their flight Of dimpled Hebe, as she wing'd her feet
From eastern isles

Up (Where they have bathed them in the orient ray,

The empyreal mount,
And with fine fragrance all their bosoms fill’d,) To drain the soul-drops at their stellar fount;'
In circles flew, and, melting as they flew,

And still,
A liquid day-break o'er the board distill’d!

As the resplendent rill
All, all was luxury

Flamed o'er the goblet with a mantling heat,

Her graceful care
All must be luxury, where Lyæus smiles!

Would cool its heavenly fire
His locks divine

In gelid waves of snowy-feather'd air,
Were crown'd

Such as the children of the pole respire,
With a bright meteor-braid,

In those enchanted lands?
Which, like an ever-springing wreath of vine,

Where life is all a spring and north winds never blow! Shot into brilliant leafy shapes,

But oh!
And o'er his brow in lambent tendrils play'd!

Sweet Hebe, what a tear
While 'mid the foliage hung,

And what a blush were thine,
Like lucid grapes,

When, as the breath of every Grace
A thousand clustering blooms of light,

Wafted thy fleet career Cull'd from the gardens of the galaxy !

Along the studded sphere, Upon his bosom Cytherea's head

With a rich cup for Jove himself to drink, Lay lovely, as when first the Syrens sung

Some star, that glitter'd in the way,
Her beauty's dawn,

Raising its amorous head
And all the curtains of the deep, undrawn,

To kiss so exquisite a tread,
Reveal'd her sleeping in its azure bed.

Check'd thy impatient pace!
The captive deity

And all Heaven's host of eyes
Languish'd upon her eyes and lip,

Saw those luxuriant beauties sink
In chains of ecstacy!

In lapse of loveliness, along the azure skies !3
Now in his arm,

Upon whose starry plain they lay,
In blushes she reposed,

Like a young blossom on our meads of gold,
And, while her zone resign’d its every charm,

Shed from a vernal thorn To shade his burning eyes her hand in dalliance stole;

Amid the liquid sparkles of the morn!
And now she raised her rosy mouth to sip

Or, as in temples of the Paphian shade,
The nectar'd wave

The myrtled votaries of the queen behold
Lyæus gave,

An image of their rosy idol, laid
And from her eyelids, gently closed,

Upon a diamond shrine !
Shed a dissolving gleam,

The wanton wind,
Which fell, like sun-dew, in the bowl!

Which had pursued the fiying fair,
While her bright hair, in mazy flow

And sweetly twin'd
Of gold descending

Its spirit with the breathing rings
Along her cheek's luxurious glow,

Of her ambrosial hair,
Waved o'er the goblet's side,
And was reflected by its crystal tide,

1 Heraclitus (Physicus) held the soul to be a spark of the

stellar essence. “Scintilla stellaris essentiæ.”—Macrobius, Like a sweet crocus flower,

in Somn. Scip. Lib. i. cap. 14. Whose sunny leaves, at evening hour,

2 The country of the Ilyperboreans; they were supposed With roses of Cyrene blending, 2

to be placed so far north, that the north wind could not affect them; they lived longer than any other mortals ; passed

their whole time in music and dancing, etc. etc. But the cense of dithyrambics, would ever have descended to ballad- most extravagant fiction related of them is that to which the language like the following:

two lines preceding allude. It was imagined, that instead Bella Filli, e bella Clori

of our vulgar atmosphere, the Hyperboreans breathed Non piu dar pregio a tue bellezze e taci,

nothing but feathers! According to Herodotus and Pliny,

this idea was suggested by the quantity of snow which was Che se Bacco fa vezzi alle mie labbra Fo le fiche a' vostri baci.

observed to fall in those regions; thus the former : Tx ay

πτερα εικαζοντας την χιονα τους Σκυθας τε και τους τεesser vorrei Coppier,

proixous soxswisyenu.-Herodot. lib. iv. cap. 31. Ovid tells E se troppo desiro Deh fossi io Bottiglier.

the fable otherwise. . See Metamorph. lib. xv. Rime dei Chiabrera, part ii.

Mr. O'Halloran, and some other Irish Antiquarians, have p. 352.

been at great expense of learning to prove that the strange 1 This is a Platonic fancy; the philosopher supposes, in country, where they took snow for feathers, was Ireland, his Timæus, that, when the Deity had formed the soul of the and that the famous Abaris was an Irish Druid. Mr. Rowworld, he proceeded to the composition of other souls; in land, however, will have it that Abaris was a Welshman, which process, says Plato, he made use of the same cup, and that his name is only a corruption of Ap Rees! though the ingredients he mingled were not quite so pure as 3 I believe it is Servius who mentions this unlucky trip for the former; and having refined the mixture with a little which Hebe made in her occupation of cup-bearer; and of his own essence, he distributed it amongst the stars which Hoffnan tells it after him; “Cum Hebe pocula Jovi admiserved as reservoirs of the fluid.

Txut' ELTE X. Tonovnistrans, perque lubricum minus cauté incedens, cecidisset EAI TON #Potspov xpxTyps ev w TAU TOU FAUTOS Yuxnv xs-revolutisque vestibus”-in short, she fell in a very awkward ραννυς εμισγε, κ. τ. λ.

manner, and though (as the Encyclopédistes think) it would 2 We learn from Theophrastus, that the roses of Cyrene have amused Jove at any other time, yet, as he happened were particularly fragrant. EvOO MOTAT% TO SE TO Ev Ku- to be out of temper on that day, the poor girl was dismissed prun pada

from her employment.

*

*

Soar'd as she fell, and on its ruffling wings,

When round him, in profusion weeping, (Oh wanton wind!)

Dropp'd the celestial shower, Wafted the robe, whose sacred flow,

Steeping
Shadow'd her kindling charms of snow,

The rosy clouds, that curl'd
Pure, as an Eleusinian veil

About his infant head,
Hangs o'er the mysteries !!

Like myrrh upon the locks of Cupid shed!

But, when the waking boy
* the brow of Juno flushed-

Waved his exhaling tresses through the sky,
Love bless'd the breeze!

O morn of joy!
The Muses blush'd,

The tide divine,
And every cheek was hid behind a lyre,

* All glittering with the vermeil dye While every eye was glancing through the strings.

It drank beneath his orient eye,
Drops of ethereal dew,

Distill'd in dews upon the world,
That burning gush’d,

And every drop was wine, was heavenly WINE!
As the great goblet flew
From Hebe's pearly fingers through the sky!

Bless'd be the sod, the flow'ret blest, Who was the spirit that remember'd Man

That caught, upon their hallow'd breast, In that voluptuous hour?

The nectar'd spray of Jove's perennial springs ! And with a wing of Love

Less sweet the flow'ret, and less sweet the sod, Brush'd off your scatter'd tears,

O’er which the Spirit of the rainbow flings As o'er the spangled heaven they ran,

The magic mantle of her solar god !!
And sent them floating to our orb below !!
Essence of immortality!

The shower
Fell glowing through the spheres

TO
While all around new tints of bliss,

That wrinkle, when first I espied it,
New perfumes of delight,

At once put my heart out of pain,
Enrich'd its radiant flow!

Till the

eye that was glowing beside it
Now, with a humid kiss,

Disturb’d my ideas again!
It thrill'd along the beamy wire

Thou art just in the twilight at present
Of Heaven's illumin'd lyre,

When woman's declension begins,
Stealing the soul of music in its flight !

When, fading from all that is pleasant,
And now, amid the breezes bland,
That whisper from the planets as they roll,

She bids a good night to her sins !
The bright libation, softly fann'd

Yet thou still art so lovely to me,
By all their sighs, meandering stole!

I would sooner, my exquisite mother!
They who, from Atlas' height,

Repose in the sunset of thee
Beheld the hill of flame

Than bask in the noon of another!
Descending through the waste of night,
Thought 'twas a planet, whose stupendous frame
Had kindled, as it rapidly revolv'd

ANACREONTIC.
Around its fervid axle, and dissolv'd
Into a flood so bright!

“She never look'd so kind before-
The child of day,

Yet why the wanton's smile recall!
Within his twilight bower,

I've seen this witchery o'er and o'er,
Lay sweetly sleeping

'Tis hollow, vain, and heartless all!" On the flush'd bosom of a lotos-flower;4

Thus I said, and, sighing, sipp'd

The wine which she had lately tasted; 1 The arcane symbols of this ceremony were deposited in The cup, where she had lately dipp'd the cista, where they lay religiously concealed from the eyes of the profane. They were generally carried in the proces

Breath, so long in falsehood wasted. sion by an ass; and hence the proverb, which one may so often apply in the world, " asinus portat mysteria." See

I took the harp, and would have sung the Divine Legation, Book ii. sect. 4.

As if 'twere not of her I sang; 2 In the Geoponica, Lib. ii. cap. 17, there is a fable some what like this descent of the nectar to earth. Ev

ουρανω

Plutarch. των θεων ευωχουμενων, και του νεκταρος πολλου παρακειμε

περί τ8 μη κραν εμμετρ. See also his treatise

Isid. et Osir. Observing that the lotos showed its head νου, ανασκιρτήσαι χορεία τον Ερωτα και συσσεισαι πτερο του κρατήρος την βασιν, και περιτρεψαι μεν αυτον: above water at sun-rise, and sank again at his setting, they TO SE VEXT&P.ES Thughu sxxu ģev, *. t. a.' See Auctor. de conceived the idea of consecrating it to Osiris, or the sun. Re Rust, edit. Contab. 1704.

This symbol of a youth sitting upon a lotos, is very fre3 The constellation Lyra. The astrologers attribute quent on the Abraxases, or Basilidian stones. See Montgreat virtues to this sign in ascendenti, which are enume- faucon, Tom. ii, planche 158, and the Supplément. etc. rated by Pontano, in his Urania:

Tom. ii. lib. vii. chap. 5.

1 The ancients esteemed those flowers and trees tho -Ecce novem cum pectine chordas

sweetest upon which the rainbow had appeared to rest; and Emodulans, mulcet que novo vaga sidera cantu, the wood they chiefly burned in sacrifices, was that which Quo captæ nascentum animæ concordia ducunt

the smile of Iris had consecrated.- Plutarch Sympos. Lib. Pectora, etc.

iv. cap. 2, where (as Vossius remarks) *&80s, instead of 4 The Egyptians represented the dawn of day by a young x casos, is undoubtedly the genuine reading. See Vossius, boy seated upon a lotos. Este Aiguat's swpexws XpXuy for some curious particularities of the rainbow, De Origin: ανατολης παιδςον νεογιον γραφοντας επι λωτω καθεζομενον. et Progress, Idoίolat. Lib. iii. cap. 13.

τω

But still the notes on Lamia hung

On whom but Lamia could they hang! That kiss, for which, if worlds were mine,

A world for every kiss I'd give her ; Those floating eyes, that floating shine

Like diamonds in an eastern river ! That mould so fine, so pearly bright,

Of which luxurious Heaven hath cast her, Through which her soul doth beam as white

As flame through lamps of alabaster! Of these I sung, and notes and words

Wcre sweet as if 'twas Lamia's hair That lay upon my lute for chords,

And Lamia's lip that warbled there! But when, alas ! I turn'd the theme,

And when of vows and oaths I spoke, Of truth, and hope's beguiling dream

The chord beneath my finger broke! False harp! false woman !-such, oh! such

Are lutes too frail and maids too willing; Every hand's licentious touch

Can learn to wake their wildest thrilling ! And when that thrill is most awake,

And when you think heaven's joys await you, The nymph will change, the chord will break

Oh Love! oh Music ! how I hate you !

No more to Tempé's distant vale

In holy musings shall we roam, Through summer's glow, and winter's gale,

To bear the mystic chaplets home !! 'Twas then my soul's expanding zeal,

By nature warm’d and led by thee,
In every breeze was taught to feel

The breathings of a deity!
Guide of my heart! to memory true,

Thy looks, thy words, are still my ownI see thee raising from the dew,

Some laurel, by the wind o’erthrown, And hear thee say, “This humble bough

Was planted for a doom divine, And, though it weep in languor now,

Shall flourish on the Delphic shrine ! Thus, in the vale of earthly sense,

Though sunk awhile the spirit lies, A viewless hand shall cull it thence,

To bloom immortal in the skies !" Thy words had such a melting flow,

And spoke of truth'so sweetly well, They dropp'd like heaven's serenest snow,

And all was brightness where they fell ! Fond soother of my infant tear!

Fond sharer of my infant joy!
Is not thy shade still lingering here?

Am I not still thy soul's employ?
And oh! as oft, at close of day

When, meeting on the sacred mount, Our nymphs awak'd the choral lay,

And danc'd around Cassotis' fount; As then, 'twas all thy wish and care,

That mine should be the simplest mien, My lyre and voice the sweetest there,

My foot the lightest o'er the green ; So still, each little grace to mould,

Around my form thine eyes are shed, Arranging every snowy fold,

And guiding every mazy tread! And, when I lead the hymning choir,

Thy spirit still, unseen and free, Hovers between my lip and lyre,

And weds them into harmony ! Flow, Plistus, flow! thy murmuring wave

Shall never drop its silv'ry tear Upon so pure, so blest a grave,

To memory so divinely dear!

TO MRS.

ON SOME CALUMNIES AGAINST HER CHARACTER.

Is not thy mind a gentle mind?
Is not thy heart a heart refin'd?
Hast thou not every blameless grace,
That man should love, or Heaven can trace ?
And oh! art thou a shrine for Sin
To hold her hateful worship in ?
No, no, be happy-dry that tear-
Though some thy heart hath harbour'd near
May now repay its love with blame!
Though man, who ought to shield thy fame,
Ungenerous man, be first to wound thee!
Though the whole world may freeze around thee,
Oh! thou'lt be like that lucid tear,'
Which, bright, within the crystal's sphere
In liquid purity was found,
Though all had grown congeal'd around;
Floating in frost, it mock'd the chill,
Was pure, was soft, was brilliant still.

RINGS AND SEALS.

Ωσπερ σφραγιδες τα φιλη ματα. . HYMN OF A VIRGIN OF DELPHI,

Achilles Tatius, Lib. ii. AT THE TOMB OF HER MOTHER. Oh! lost, for ever lost !—no more

“Go!" said the angry weeping maid, Shall Vesper light our dewy way

“ The charm is broken !-once betray'd, Along the rocks of Crissa's shore, To hymn the fading fires of day!

a rarity as this that I saw at Vendôme in France, which they there pretend is a tear that our Saviour shed over La

zarus, and was gathered up by an angel, who put it in a little 1 This alludes to a curious gem, upon which Claudian crystal vial and made a present of it to Mary Magdalene." has left us some pointless epigrams. It was a drop of pure - Addison's Remarks on several Parts of Italy. water inclosed within a piece of crystal. See Claudian. 1 The laurel, for the common uses of the temple, for Epigram. de Chrystallo cui aqua inerat. Addison men- adorning the altars and sweeping the pavement, was suptione a curiosity of this kind at Milan. He says, “It is such |plied by a tree near the fountain of Castalia. But upon al

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