rors of approaching darkness; the refreshing breeze of night attempered the sultry emanations from the heated earth; the herdsmen had led the camels to their stalls; the eye perceived no motion on the dusky and uniform plain; profound silence rested on the desert; the howlings only of the jackal* and the solemn notes of the bird of night were heard at distant intervals. Darkness now increased, and already through the dusk I could distinguish nothing more than the pale phantasies of columns and walls. The solitude of the place, the tranquillity of the hour, the majesty of the scene, impressed on my mind a religious pensiveness. The aspect of a great city deserted, the memory of times past, compared with its present state, all elevated my mind to high contemplations. I sat on the shaft of a column, and there, my elbow reposing on my knee and head reclining on my hand, my eyes fixed sometimes on the desert, sometimes on the ruins, I fell into a profound revery. purple of Tyre was exchanged for the precious thread of Serica, the soft tissues of Cachemire for the sumptuous tapestry of Lydia, the amber of the Baltic for the pearls and perfumes of Arabia, the gold of Ophir for the tin of Thule. And now a mournful skeleton is all that subsists of this powerful city; naught remains of its vast domination but a doubtful and empty remembrance. To the tumultuous throng which crowded under these porticos has succeeded the solitude of death; the silence of the tomb is substituted for the bustle of public places; the opulence of a commercial city is changed into hideous poverty; the palaces of kings are become a den of wild beasts; flocks fold on the area of the temple and unclean reptiles inhabit the sanctuary of the gods. Ah! how has so much glory been eclipsed? How have so many labors been annihilated? Thus perish the works of men, and thus do empires and nations disappear. I And the history of former times revived. in my mind. I recollected those distant ages when many illustrious nations inhabited these countries; I figured to myself the Assyrian on the banks of the Tigris, the Chaldean on those of the Euphrates, the Persian reigning from the Indus to the Mediterranean. enumerated the kingdoms of Damascus and Idumea, of Jerusalem and Samaria, the warlike states of the Philistines and the commercial republics of Phoenicia. This Syria, said I, now so depopulated, then contained a hundred flourishing cities and abounded with towns, villages and hamlets.† Everywhere were seen cultivated fields, frequented roads Here, said I-here once flourished an opulent city; here was the seat of a powerful empire. Yes! These places now so desert were once animated by a living multitude; a living multitude; a busy crowd circulated in these streets now so solitary. Within these walls, where a mourn ful silence reigns, the noise of the arts and shouts of joy and festivity incessantly resounded. These piles of marble were regular palaces; these prostrate pillars adorned the majesty of temples; these raised galleries surrounded public places. Here a numerous people assembled for the sacred duties of religion or the anxious cares of their subsistence; here industry, parent of enjoyment, collected the riches of all climates, and the Syria must have contained ten millions of inhabitants; * A kind of fox that roves only during the night. According to the calculations of Josephus and Strabo, there are not two millions at the present day. and crowded habitations. Ah! what are become of those ages of abundance and of life? How have so many brilliant creations of human industry vanished? Where are those ramparts of Nineveh, those walls of Babylon, those palaces of Persepolis, those temples of Baalbec and of Jerusalem? Where are those fleets of Tyre, those dockyards of Arad, those workshops of Sidon, and that multitude of sailors, of pilots, of merchants and of soldiers? Where those husbandmen, those harvests, those flocks and all the creation of living beings in which the face of the earth rejoiced? Alas! I have passed over this desolate land, I have visited the palaces once the theatre of so much splendor, and I beheld nothing but solitude and desolation. I sought the ancient inhabitants and their works, and could only find a faint trace like that of the foot of a traveller over the sand. The temples are fallen, the palaces overthrown, the ports ports filled up, the cities destroyed, and the earth, stripped of inhabitants, seems a dreary burying-place. Whence proceed such fatal revolutions? What causes have so altered the fortunes of these countries? Why are so many cities destroyed? Why has not this ancient population been reproduced and perpetuated? Why have blessings been banished hence and transferred for so many ages to other nations and different climes? the situation in which I left her.* I called to mind her fields so richly cultivated, her roads so sumptuously constructed, her cities inhabited by a countless people, her fleets spread over every sea, her ports filled with the produce of either India, and, comparing with the activity of her commerce, the extent of her navigation, the magnificence of her monuments, the arts and industry of her inhabitants, what Egypt and Syria had once possessed, I was gratified to find in modern Europe the departed splendor of Asia. But the charm of my revery was soon dissolved by a last term of comparison. Reflecting that such had once been the activity of the places I was then contemplating, Who knows, said I, but such may one day be the abandonment of our countries? Who knows if on the banks of the Seine, the Thames or the Zuyder Zee, where now in the tumult of so many enjoyments the heart and the eye suffice not for the multitude of sensations-who knows if some traveller like myself shall not one day sit on their silent ruins and weep in solitude over the ashes of their inhabitants and the memory of their greatness? Translation of JOEL BARLOW. WOMAN. FROM THE SANSKRIT OF CALIDASA. HERE in the fane a beauteous creature stands, At these words, revolving in my mind the TH The first, best work of the Creator's hands, Whose teeth like pearls, whose lips like cherries, show, course of vicissitudes which have transmitted the sceptre of the world successively to people so different in religion and manners from those of ancient Asia to the most recent of Europe, this name of a natal land revived in And me the sentiment of my country, and, turning my eyes toward her, I began to reflect on fawnlike eyes still tremble as they glow. Translation of J. WILSON. *In 1782, at the close of the American war. Then we're but Heaven's own will and gives the double direction, three horsemen way In honest faith maintaining: We do not earn a tyrant's pay Our brother-men by braining; But whoso fights for sluggard shame To pieces all we'll cleave him: In German soil and German name. No portion will we leave him. O sacred German Fatherland, To feed the kite and crow, Now roar and lighten whatso can, And blaze up bright and clear; And all you Germans, man by man, To guard your homes appear! Appear, and lift your hearts on high, And lift your hands to heaven, might have been seen in the early morning intent on pleasure and sport. That they were enthusiastic sportsmen was evident not alone from their red coats, white cords and shining tops, but from their lively countenances and their prancing hunters, which seemed to catch inspiration from their riders. In that day hunting was to a country gentleman the very breath of his nostrils: books and harvests, law-making and politics, and even theology (by hunting-parsons), were thrust aside when "the goddess Diana called out for the chase," and "a southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaimed it a hunting morning." SCENE I. Going forth to Meet the Difficulty. What the difficulty was shall appear as we proceed; certainly, our horsemen were resolute to meet it, in whatever form. The first, Lord Hopeton, was of so sanguine and cheerful a temperament that he saw nothing to mar the pleasure of this auspicious opening. "Well," said he, blowing a cloud of smoke from his fragrant Havana, "was there ever such a day and such a chance?-So ho, Cato!"—and he patted the neck of his prancing horse" we can take anything this morning-hedge, ditch, five-bars or running stream-and be in at the death as fresh as we are now. Eh ?" 66 "Hold up!" said the second, Sir William Stillwell. This is a new course, My Lord: we'll see how it turns out, and not holler till we get out of the woods. But here goes for the chances." "I say so too," said Squire Grummle, the third of the party. "There is an ugly bit of country 'twixt this and the death-two sunk fences and a swollen stream which you won't cross without swimming, I tell you. Besides, it's just such a day as it was last year when poor Brainerd broke his neck." Stop croaking, Grummle!" shouted My Lord as he shook his bridle and galloped on to the meet. SCENE II. How they Met the Difficulty and Got Out of It. Of the "Hunt's up!" and the "View halloo!" we need not speak. The long run of the hounds and the clever winding and doubling of the cunning fox were disappointing and fatiguing. They had found it "an ugly bit of country" indeed many a ditch and fence and hedge had their tired hunters taken in right gallant style; but at last the difficulty presented itself, and brought them to grief. It was the swollen brook-or, rather, a miniature torrent. In plunged the tired horses, down a sloping, slippery bank. Sir William's horse turned a half somerset, and his rider was adrift; he came ashore, but his hat sailed down toward the sea. Grummle was carried down the stream, to land below, only on the same side, and to find when he got out that his surcingle and girths had been burst. My Lord, indeed, crossed, but was in poor condition to follow the chase; so he was glad to find a safer ford and rejoin his friends. The water was dripping-or, rather, raining -from the horses' flanks, while their stretched necks and quivering knees proclaimed that for them, although out of the difficulty, the day's sport was over. What was to be done? "I say breathe the horses a bit," said Lord Hopeton, "and follow the hunt. Who knows but the fox will double again and come this way, and our little accident will prove the best thing, after all?” Sir William stood a moment in doubt, and at last ejaculated, "No go! Let's strike the road and get home before dark, and as fast as we can." "And that will be slow enough," growled Grummle, " for my beast is going to lie down, I think; and we are going to have another wetting, for that storm which has been brewing will be upon us directly. Heigh ho!" SCENE III. Getting Home. It began to be doubtful whether they would get home at all. My Lord still led, with a crushed hat, not of the opera kind; Sir William followed with a handkerchief where his hat should have been. With whip and spur they moved at a jaded walk. Thus with increasing slowness they reached again the morning signpost, with the mansion in view, and soon, under the groom's hands, their steeds will rest and recover. Not so with Grummle's hack; his huntingdays are over. The rider dismounts not a moment too soon-not to urge him forward, but to hold him up. Down he goes never to |