ble consequences, if they opened or discovered its curious properties and contents.

Now when he had given them the box and forbidden to open it, they had great assurance, and showed strong confidence of their ability to resist every temptation, and restrain every propensity. They expressed much admiration at its beauty and singularity; were often found standing over it in reclining postures, and looking wistfully thereupon.

At length, after the space of much time, as once a day the skillful Schemarthar was accustomed to make his visits to the lovely maidens, the food and drink which he had brought for their sustenance was discovered to be unconsumed and untasted. Sometimes they were found walking to and fro, with pensive, downcast looks, and other indications of sorrow, anxiety and pain -sometimes their countenances looked sad and pale, and their bosoms would heave with deep-drawn sighs; and then they would begin suddenly to weep and pour out bitter tears. They even besought him to bear the box out from their sight, lest they might not restrain their propensities.

Lo! early on the morn of a certain day, just as fair Aurora, all bashful and maiden-like, blushingly arose from her saffron couch -threw open wide the shutters of the eastern sky-stepped out with bare feet upon the blue carpet of heaven-shook from her disheveled locks the pearly drops-spread out with her rosy fingers the thin and transparent dawn-and began busily and carefully (lest he might awake prematurely) to prepare for Phoebus his morning repast, ere he commenced his daily routine, and utterly dispelled the dark drapery of midnight*-just then, the sage and mighty Schemarthar entered the presence of the peerless twins, and, behold! one of these unequaled beauties (alas, no longer so!) sat, all disfigured and despoiled of her loveliness, which had been spirited away by an invisible and subtle essence, that issued out of the box, which she had opened contrary to the command of Fate. There she sat, bewailing her misfortune; uttering bitter cries and lamentations; her shrieks piercing the air, as she wrung her hands, rent her garments and tore her hair! Ah me! Ah miserable me!-Wo, wo, wo! is me, for I have not restrained my woman's propensities!!'

No longer did there exist any perplexity, for one of them remained fair and beautiful, and it was determined to crown, according to custom, this most beauteous one, who now excelled all, even the quondam queen herself, in all things; having passed every test, resisted every temptation, and been proved to be most

*Henceforth, there can be no doubt as to the origin of those fine similes and comparisons, in which the orators, poets and humorists of all ages are wont to indulge, since almost every epithet of the rosy-fingered goddess, seems to be here applied by our author, Muilharek ben Hazri.-Translator.

discreet and virtuous, chaste and lovely, of all the daughters of the land.

In the grove of tall Arbamas, many fairest of the fair, all greatly desirous of finding favor in her sight, were gathered around the lovely queen, who sat in state upon her lofty throne, surrounded with chaste white flowers, and crowned with a garland of pale blossoms and shells of fairy pearl. Here were also the chief magi, with Schemarthar standing in the midst, and speaking to the people. His words distilled as honey, dropping like great flakes of falling snow, and melting mellifluously into the enraptured souls of his hearers. After he had ended his speech, he gave out the following coronation hymn, which was sung by the fairest and most gifted maidens:

CORONATION ODE. 4.H. Cotton

"Hail to thee, radiant queen! all hail!
Lo! decked with many a flower pale,
And pearly shell

By coral-haunting sea-nymphs given,
We crown thee with this garland woven
In fairy cell.

For know, if e'er she turn away
From all, to shed one single ray
Of secret love,

O'er all shall come a wasting grief,

As blighting frost on branch and leaf,
Falls from above.'

O! then, whilst joy doth swell thy heart
To think, that, by thy charms, thou art
Our free-will choice;

Yet-knowing how our fortunes wait
Upon that heart--our book of fate-
Trembling rejoice."

Reader, I am cut short-anon shall be forthcoming the finale of this chronicle.

MODELS IN LITERATURE.

Go to the ocean's rough and rocky shore,
And bid to cease his wild and reckless roar;
Check the huge avalanche, and bid it stay
Its crushing force, its mad career delay;
Exert thy feeble efforts to restrain
The sandy clouds of hot Arabia's plain;
Or fetter if you will the viewless wind-
You cannot bind with laws the lofty mind.
Shall genius then disclaim the fixed rules
Of science, and the learning of the schools?-
Spurn the bright galaxy of ancient times,
The talent and the taste of foreign climes?—
Sneer at the Muses of Parnassus' hill?—
Forbid his heart at Grecian worth to thrill?-
Repress its throbbings at the name of Rome,
The seat of Cæsar, and great Tully's home?
Not so, the most exalted son of earth

Should scan with care the works of ancient worth;
Search for the hidden path, the secret way,
By which they rose to Fame's eternal day :
Thus by experience he may wiser grow,
Thus shall the liquid line spontaneous flow:
Nor doth it lessen aught of their renown,
Or is it for this reason less his own.
He sees the former planets of the sky,
And by suggestion stamps his name as high;
Still finds in science an unwritten page,
As bright as that of any previous age.

ANDEN.

What though the artist rove from place to place,
And catch from Grecian beauties every grace;
The round proportion and the love-lit eye,
The bashful face, the forehead fair and high,

The rich carnation and the changing hue,
That strives to hide, yet brings the heart to view ;
The attitude that most can charm the soul,
Enforce respect, and awe-struck man control?
What though these bright young angels he had seen,
Ere yet he chiselled beauty's lovely queen?
Still the fair goddess differed from them all;
The artist summoned beauty at his call,
Bade the smooth marble every tint express,
And call'd from stone a heaven of loveliness.
'Tis thus the author reads the speaking past,
But rears a fabric bright and new at last.
How differ such from that poor, heartless host,
Who never venture from the shallow coast!
Until some bold Columbus quit the strand,
Explore the deep and shew the sea-girt land;
Then follow in the path-way of his prow,

And pluck the wreath that should entwine his brow,
Suppress their pride, check every thought elate,

And humbly condescend to imitate.

These are the men so deep in love with Fame,

That they can woo her at the price of shame;

The poor petitioners for charity,

Who beg from others lest their names should die ;
The senseless servants, that bring up the rear,
And share the glitter of their noble peer;
Obsequious Helots, that would fain display
Their occupation and their hireling pay.
Various the causes, that have made
Such numbers follow this ignoble trade:
The larger part, devoid of genius' fire,
Pigmies in power, but giants in desire,
Must dally with a weak, yet quenchless flame,
Whose scanty fuel is another's name;

Who still in prose or verse must waste their rage,
And with the public endless warfare wage;
Spawn on the deluged world from year to year,
Their offspring, that can scarce provoke a sneer.
Yet there are those of higher power and birth,
Nature's own children, minds of real worth,
Who, loving leisure, indolence and ease,
Enamored of the wish themselves to please,
Look to the peak above of height sublime,
And shudder at the steep which toil must climb;
Love the proud hill where science sheds her ray,
But seek ascension by some beaten way;
Find all too late each path but once is trod,

That leads to her fair temple and abode.

There is another class of baser blood,
Of pirate lineage and a corsair brood,
Who, thrown in poverty upon life's stage,
Seize on their neighbors' wealth for heritage;
Turn o'er the living page of vanished years,
And rifle every gem that there appears;
Cloak borrowed thoughts beneath a specious guise,
With skill that baffles e'en the critic's eyes;
Search ancient authors, now grown obsolete,
And from their beauties their own works complete:
They, like the Persian jackalls, that exhume
The consecrated ashes of the tomb,
And having torn the sacred turf away,
Gorge with unsated rage the lifeless prey-
They follow still the unresisting wealth,
And gain a dubious character by stealth.
But transient is the echo of such praise,
And withers soon their wreath of pilfered lays.
Let then the youth be reared with strictest care,
Be his young spirit early taught to dare;

Still let him search for thought with ceaseless toil,
Nor ever from the arduous task recoil;

Yet read the classic page with critic eye,
And scan its contents with close scrutiny,
Its hidden beauties canvass and explore,
The growing mind with useful learning store;
Correct the taste with most assiduous art,
Enlarge the head and cultivate the heart:
For if the lake from whence the river flows,
Be bitterness, its offspring must be so;

As flowers lend sweet enchantment to the air,
Exhaling health in richest odors there,

So these bright models sway his yielding heart,
And their own purity to him impart :

Their long experience he should ne'er deny,
Nor outbrave custom, nor the great defy,
Nor violate the beauty of that tongue
In which a Milton and a Thomson sung.
From such examples he shall learn to soar,
And rival e'en the Phoenix minds of yore;
Bid courts applaud and wondering nations gaze,
Exact due homage and elicit praise :

His works shall live, the future shall admire,
Catch his high spirit and his noble fire.

G. H.