Places of nestling green-for poets made, RIMINI. Here is a pretty idea-the couplet which contains it is taken from elegiac stanzas to the memory of a young and beautiful girl, by a lady. It is really worth preserving in a more enduring form than the columns of a newspaper :— "We met not again till they wailed for her-dead! Until tears (the life-blood of the spirit) were shed!" Of all the queer epitaphs I have ever met with, I think the following the queerest : "Here lies the body of Sarah Sexton, Who, as a wife, did never vex one ;— There's something more than sarcasm in this distich of Prior's, (I believe it is his,) it is intended, one would think, to operate as a cure for poetry, indeed : "Seven wealthy towns contend for Homer dead, Through which the living Homer begged his bread." Who has never heard of the famous question that puzzled all the wise men of Greece in devising a solution thereto, and which gave rise to as much controversy among their sage pens, as ever did the discussion of the real authorship of Junius among more modern wise ones? "If a man tells me that he never speaks truth,-am I, or not, to believe him? If he never does speak truth, he is not to be believed now; if he tells truth now, he lies, because he says he never does so!” The celebrated Dr. Donne has this couplet : "I am unable, yonder beggar cries, To stand or go. If he says true, he lies." There is something in the following description of John Gottfried Von Herder's manner of reading, as related by Goëthe, that chimes so exactly with my ideas of what reading should be, that I cannot resist transcribing it, while perusing the interesting auto-biography of this wonderful Poet: "He [Herder] had a very peculiar manner of reading, of which those who heard him preach may form an idea. He read everything, and even this romance in a grave and simple tone. Averse to [from?] all dramatic imitation, he avoided not only the variety of accents allowable and proper in the reading of a narrative, but even that slight change in intonation which marks what one says, and distinguishes the narrator from the personages From the mouth of Herder everything flowed on in a uniform tone, but without monotony, as if no actors had been supposed present, and all had been narration. One would have thought that these imaginary beings did not act on his mind like living personages, and only flitted gently by him like faint shadows. Yet this manner of reading had an inconceivable charm in his mouth; for deeply sensible as he was of the interest of every part of a work, capable of appreciating all the value of the variety that prevailed in it, he made the merit of any production the more conspicuous, by taking care not to distract his audience by the skill evinced in the details, or to destroy the impression of the whole, by the disproportionate force of particular passages."-p. 154. 0*** When the summer sun was in the west, Some on the blue and changeful sea, And some in the prisoner's cell. And then his eye with a smile would beam, Like sere grass after rain. But when the tempest wreathed and spread He gathered back his woes again And brooded thereupon: And thus he lived, till Time one day TRANSLATION OF A MANUSCRIPT LATELY FOUND AT HERCULANEUM. Quintus Hortensius to Titus Pomponius Atticus, at Athens. I SHOULD do injustice to you, my Atticus, as well as to our mutual and beloved friend Cicero, were I not to give you some account of this day's proceedings in our city. Of the melancholy state of the times you are well aware. Faction, intrigue, bribery and corruption are spread throughout Rome. The whole moral atmosphere seems to be polluted. Even that place which of all others should be purethe Senate-House-is infected. Every man of ruined fortunes seems to be exerting his whole strength to bring ruin upon the Republic, in hopes to raise himself to eminence amid the general desolation. Such a man, as you well know, is Lucius Sergius Cataline, who, the last night, was detected to be at the head of a conspiracy more daring and horrid than any recorded on the page of history. It was no less than to raise a general insurrection, to fire the city, to put all of Senatorial blood to death, to overthrow the fair fabric of our Republic, and establish a tyranny upon its ruins. Of this Cicero, ever on the alert, obtained immediate intelligence, and early this morning summoned the Senate to the temple of Jupiter Stater, which, as you know, is done only in times of great public alarm. And would you believe that Cataline himself had the effrontery to meet with them? Yes-he, on account of whose daring villany the Senate had now assembled, came boldly in and took his usual seat. At sight of this, Cicero, who sat in the Consul's chair, was confounded, and, for a time, seemed at a loss what to do. And no wonder, Atticus, when you reflect upon the times, and upon the body of men in the midst of which he was. How could he feel confident that the Senate would support him? How did he know but that half of them were leagued with the infamous Cataline? How could he think that this parricide would dare to set his foot within the temple, without feeling sure of the Senate's protection? He could not look around upon this body without seeing those of the most questionable character. He saw, on one side, a Cethegus, to whom the faction of Marius had looked up as its chief support;-on another, a Lentulus, who, by his prodigality, had become the leader of the mob;-and, before him, a Cæsar, artful, gifted, ambitious, aspiring to supreme command. No wonder, then, that at first the resolution of Cicero seemed to fail him. But at length, quieting every rising fear, summoning all his courage-his whole moral power, and feeling that his COUNTRY, his IDOL, called upon him at this trying hour, in the midst of such an assembly the orator rose,-and addressed Cataline himself. Never before did I hear such tones from the lips of Cicero. I had heard him when he imparted to the dryest law-question the most intense interest. I had heard him when, by his persuasive eloquence, he seemed to bend even justice herself. I had heard him, when, in pleading the cause of the defenceless and the orphan, he drew tears from the sternest hearts. But here-how different! I never before saw our Cicero in such a character; I never thought he possessed such powers. He appeared in a new, in a divine light. He seemed like Patriotism herself, descended in human form, to save our threatened country. Such a strain of impassioned eloquence never before fell from the lips of man. Now, he addressed Cataline with the most thrilling denunciations;-laying open to his view the whole course of his past life, his vices, his intrigues, his daring villanies, his present horrid plot;-exhorting him to leave the city, and fly beyond the walls. Now, he addressed the Senate, conjuring them, in the name of their Republic, devoted to ruin-their city, to conflagration-their wives, to violence— their children, to slavery-themselves, to death,-to unite and crush the foul and daring traitor. Now, in the name of the mighty founders of the Republic-of Romulus and our martial ancestors, he implored the protection of Heaven over this hitherto favored land. Argument, entreaty, expostulation, persuasion, warning, threatening-all were used to rouse the Senate to action, and to drive Cataline from the walls. When he thanked the immortal gods for their protection thus far, methought I saw the image of the devout and aged Chryses, as he stood in the midst of the Grecian camp, with his hands raised to Heaven in prayer. When he invoked their protection for the future, his tones were like the music of Apollo; when he called down vengeance upon the head of Cataline, they were like the thunder of Jupiter. Never, never can I forget this day. A feverish excitement is still upon me. Methinks I still see his majestic, noble frame; methinks I still hear the music, the thunder of his voice. It was indeed a spectacle of true moral sublimity, to see a single man, not knowing what might be the issue of his course, not knowing with what hidden dangers he might be beset, not knowing whether the Senate would support or abandon him-rise up in the midst of so august an assembly, fearless and alone, and deliver himself with such power, such eloquence for his country's good. As a special pleader, as an advocate for the rights of injured innocence, we have long acknowledged and felt his power; but with this day has commenced a new era of his life. With this day will his name be associated with all that is great and exalted in our nature. As an impassioned orator, an able statesman, a great and virtuous patriot, will his memory be cherished in all time to come. Long, long, my Atticus may he be preserved to Rome! Long may he live to protect the rights, and direct the energies of this great Republic!Farewell. ISORA. ONE smile from thee-I ask no more A part and portion of my mind. One gentle smile-the wild bee sips |