The sire was robb'd of his eldest born,

And he bitterly bled while the branch was torn:
Other scions were round, as good and fair,

But none seem'd so bright as the breathless heir.

My hopes are crush'd," was the father's cry;

"Since my darling is lost, I too, would die." The valued friend was snatch d away,

Bound to another from childhood's day;

And the one that was left exclaim'd in despair,

"Oh! he sleeps in the tomb-let me follow him there!"

A mother was taken, whose constant love

Had nestled her child like a fair young dove;

And the heart of that child to the mother had grown,
Like the ivy to oak, or the moss to the stone:
Nor loud nor wild was the burst of woe,
But the tide of anguish ran strong below;
And the reft one turn'd from all that was light,
From the flowers of day and the stars of night;
Breathing where none might hear or see-
"Where thou art, my mother, thy child would be."

Death smiled as he heard each earnest word:
"Nay, nay," said he, be this work deferr'd;
I'll see thee again in a fleeting year,

And, if grief and devotion live on sincere,
I promise then thou shalt share the rest

Of the being now pluck'd from thy doating breast;
Then, if thou cravest the coffin and pall

As thou dost this moment, my spear shall fall;"

And death fled till Time on his rapid wing

Gave the hour that brought back the skeleton king.

But the lover was ardently wooing again,

Kneeling in serfdom, and proud of his chain;

He had found an idol to adore,

Rarer than that he had worshipp'd before:

His step was gay, his laugh was loud,

As he led the way for the bridal crowd;

And his eyes still kept their joyous ray,

Though he went by the grave where his first love lay, "Ha! ha!" shouted Death, "'tis passing clear

That I am a guest not wanted here!"

The father was seen in his children's games,

Kissing their flush'd brows and blessing their names!
And his eye grew bright as he mark'd the charms

Of the boy at his knee and the girl in his arms:
His voice rung out in the merry noise,
He was first in all their hopes and joys;
He ruled their sports in the setting sun,
Nor gave a thought to the missing one.

"Are ye ready," cried Death, as he raised his dart.
"Nay, nay," shriek'd tho father; "in mercy depart!"

The friend again was quaffing the bowl,
Warmly pledging his faith and soul;
His bosom cherished with glowing pride
A stranger form that sat by his side;
His hand the hand of that stranger press'd;
He praised his song, he echoed his jest;

And the mirth and wit of that new-found mate
Made a blank of the name so prized of late.

But the orphan child! Oh, where was she?
With clasping hands and bended knee,
All alone on the churchyard's sod,
Mingling the names of mother and God.
Her dark and sunken eye was hid,

Fast weeping beneath the swollen lid;
Her sigh was heavy, her forehead was chill,
Betraying the wound was unheal'd still;

And her smother'd prayer was yet heard to crave
A speedy home in the self-same grave.

Hers was the love all holy and strong;
Hers was the sorrow fervent and long;
Hers was the spirit whose light was shed
As an incense-fire above the dead.

Death linger'd there, and paused awhile;

But she beckon'd him on with a welcoming smile.
"There's a solace," cried she, "for all others to find,

But a mother leaves no equal behind."

And the kindest blow Death ever gave

Laid the mourning child in the parent's grave.

DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE OF THE SUN. WILLIAM Ware.

VAST preparations had been making for the dedication for many days or even months preceding, and the day arose upon a city full of expectation of the shows, ceremonies, and games that were to reward their long and patient waiting. For the season of the year the day was hot, unnaturally so; and the sky filled with those massive clouds, piled like mountains of snow one upon another, which, while they both please the eye by their forms and veil the fierce splendors of the sun as they now and then sail across his face, at the same time portend wind and storm. All Rome was early astir. It was ushered in by the criers traversing the streets and proclaiming the rites

and spectacles of the day, what they were and where to be witnessed, followed by troops of boys imitating in their grotesque way the pompous declarations of the men of authority, not unfrequently drawing down upon their heads the curses and the batons of the insulted dignitaries.

ror.

At the appointed hour we were at the palace of Aurelian on the Palatine, where a procession, pompous as art and rank and numbers could make it, was formed, to move thence by a winding and distant route to the temple near the foot of the Quirinal. Julia repaired with Portia to a place of observation near the temple-I to the palace to join the company of the empeOf the gorgeous magnificence of the procession I shall tell you nothing. It was in extent and variety of pomp and costliness of decoration, a copy of that of the late triumph, and went even beyond the captivating splendor of the example. Roman music-which is not that of Palmyra-lent such charms as it could to our passage through the streets to the temple, from a thousand performers.

As we drew near to the lofty fabric, I thought that no scene of such various beauty and magnificence had ever met my eye. The temple itself is a work of unrivalled art. In size it surpasses any other building of the same kind in Rome, and for the excellence in workmanship and purity of design, although it may fall below the standard of Hadrian's age, yet for a certain air of grandeur and luxuriance of invention in its details, and lavish profusion of embellishment in gold and silver, no temple or other edifice of any preceding age ever perhaps resembled it. Its order is the Corinthian, of the Roman form, and the entire building is surrounded by its slender columns, each composed of a single piece of marble. Upon the front is wrought Apollo surrounded by the Hours. The western extremity is approached by a flight of steps of the same breadth as the temple itself. At the eastern there extends beyond the walls to a distance equal to the length of the building a marble platform, upon which stands the altar of sacrifice, and which is ascended by various flights of steps, some little more than a gently rising plain, up which the beasts are led that are destined to the altar.

When this vast extent of wall and column of the most dazzling brightness came into view, everywhere covered, together with the surrounding temples, palaces and theatres, with a dense mass of human beings, of all climes and regions, dressed out in their richest attire-music from innumerable instruments filling

the heavens with harmony-shouts of the proud and excited populace every few moments and from different points, as Aurelian advanced, shaking the air with its thrilling din-the neighing of horses, the frequent blasts of the trumpet-the whole made more solemnly imposing by the vast masses of cloud which swept over the sky, now suddenly unveiling and again eclipsing the sun, the great god of this idolatry, and from which few could withdraw their gaze; when at once all this broke upon my eye and ear, I was like a child who before had never seen aught but his own village and his own rural temple, in the effect wrought upon me, and the passiveness with which I abandoned myself to the sway of the senses. Not one there was more ravished by the outward circumstance and show. I thought of Rome's thousand years, of her power, her greatness and universal empire, and for a moment my step was not less proud than that of Aurelian. But after that momentwhen the senses had had their fill, when the eye had seen the glory, and the ear had fed upon the harmony and the praise, then I thought and felt very differently; sorrow and compassion for these gay multitudes were at my heart; prophetic forebodings of disaster, danger, and ruin to those to whose sacred cause I had linked myself, made my tongue to falter in its speech, and my limbs to tremble. I thought that the superstition that was upheld by the wealth and the power, whose manifestations were before me, had its roots in the very centre of the earth-far too deep down for a few like myself ever to reach them. I was like one whose last hope of life and escape is suddenly struck away.

I was roused from these meditations by our arrival at the eastern front of the temple. Between the two central columns, on a throne of gold and ivory, sat the emperor of the world, surrounded by the senate, the colleges of augurs and haruspices, and by the priests of the various temples of the capital, all in their peculiar costume. Then Fronto, the priest of the temple, when the crier had proclaimed that the hour of worship and sacrifice had come, and had commanded silence to be observed-standing at the altar, glittering in his white and golden robes like a messenger of light-bared his head, and lifting his face up toward the sun, offered in clear and sounding tones the prayers of dedication. As he came toward the close of his prayer, he, as is so usual, with loud and almost frantic cries and importunate repetition, called upon the god to hear him, and then with appropiate names and praises invoked the

Father of gods and men to be present and hear. Just as he had thus solemnly invoked Jupiter by name, and was about to call upon the other gods in the same manner, the clouds, which had been deepening and darkening, suddenly obscured the sun; a distant peal of thunder rolled along the heavens, and at the same moment from the dark recesses of the temple a voice of preternatural power came forth, proclaiming so that the whole multitude heard the words-"God is but one; the king eternal, immortal, invisible." It is impossible to describe the horror that seized those multitudes. Many cried out with fear, and each seemed to shrink behind the other. Paleness sat upon every face. The priest paused as if struck by a power from above. Even the brazen Fronto was appalled. Aurelian leaped from his seat, and by his countenance, white and awestruck, showed that to him it came as a voice from the gods. He spoke not, but stood gazing at the dark entrance into the temple from which the sound had come. Fronto hastily approached him, and whispering but one word as it were into his ear, the emperor started; the spell that bound him was dissolved; and recovering himself-making indeed as though a very different feeling had possessed him-cried out in fierce. tones to his guards:

"Search the temple; some miscreant hid away among the columns profanes thus the worship and the place. Seize him and drag him forth to instant death."

The guards of the emperor and the servants of the temple rushed in at that bidding and searched in every part the interior of the building. They soon emerged, saying that the search was fruitless. The temple in all its aisles and apartments was empty.

The ceremonies, quiet being again restored, then went on. Twelve bulls, of purest white and of perfect forms, their horns bound about with fillets, were now led by the servants of the temple up the marble steps to the front of the altar, where stood the cultrarii and haruspices, ready to slay them and examine their entrails. The omens as gathered by the eyes of all from the fierce strugglings and bellowings of the animals as they were led toward the place of sacrifice-some even escaping from the hands of those who had the management of them -and from the violent and couvulsive throes of others as the blow fell upon their heads, or the knife severed their throats, were of the darkest character, and brought a deep gloom upon the brow of the emperor. The report of the haruspices upon