sacrifice?" "We have bruised but so much, Socrates,' saith he, "as we thought would be sufficient." "I understand you," saith he; "but yet it is both lawful and our duty to pray to the gods, that our transmigration from hence to them may be happy and fortunate." Having spoke these words, and remained silent (for a minute or two) he easily and expeditely drank all that was in the cup. Then many of us endeavored what we could to contain our tears, but when we beheld him drinking the poison, and immediately after, no man was able longer to refrain from weeping; and while I put force upon myself to suppress my tears, they flowed down my cheeks drop after drop. So, covering my face, I wept in secret; deploring not his, but my own hard fortune, in the loss of so great a friend and so near a kinsman. But Crito, no longer able to contend with his grief, and to forbid his tears, rose up before And Apollodorus first breaking forth into showers of tears, and then into cries, howlings, and lamentations, left no man from whom he extorted not tears in abundance; Socrates himself only excepted, who said, "What do ye, my friends? truly I sent away the women for no other reason, but lest they should in this kind offend. For I have heard that we ought to die with good men's gratulation; but re-compose yourselves, and resume your courage and resolution." Hearing this, we blushed with shame, and suppressed our tears. But when he had walked awhile, and told us that his thighs had grown heavy and stupid; he lay down upon his back; for so he who had given him the poison had directed him to do. Who a little time after, returns, and feeling him, looked upon his legs and feet: then pinching his foot vehemently, he asked him if he felt it? and when he said no, he again pinched his legs; and turning to us, told us, that now Socrates was stiff with cold; and touching him, said he would die so soon as the poison came up to his heart; for the parts about his heart were already grown stiff. Then Socrates, putting aside the garment wherewith

he was covered; "We owe," saith he, "a cock to Esculapius; but do ye pay him, and neglect not to do it." And these were his last words. "It shall be done," saith Crito; "but see if you have any other command for us." To whom he gave no answer; but soon after fainting, he moved himself often [as in suffering convulsions]. Then the servant uncovered him ; and his eyes stood wide open; which Crito perceiving, he closed both his mouth and his eyes. This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend and familiar, a man, as we in truth affirm, of all whom we have by use and experience known, the wisest, and most just.



"RISE up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town.

From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing, And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly blowing,

And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere,

And the tall tall plume of our cousin's bridegroom floats proudly in the air:

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town.

(( Arise, arise, Xarifa, I see Andalla's face,

He bends him to the people with a calm and princely


Through all the land of Xeres and banks of Guadalquiver

Rode forth Bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely? never!

Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow of azure mixed with white,


guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed tonight;

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the Town.

"What aileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thine eyes look down?

Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the Town?

I've heard you say on many a day, and sure you said the truth,

Andalla rides without a peer, among all Grenada's youth.

Without a peer he rideth, and yon milk-white horse · doth go Beneath his stately master, with a stately step and


Then rise, oh rise, Xarifa, lay the golden cushion down;

Unseen here through the lattice, you may gaze with all

the Town."

The Zegri Lady rose not, nor laid her cushion down, Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the Town ;

But though her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove,

And though her needle press'd the silk, no flower Xarifa wove;

One bonny rosebud she had traced, before the noise drew nigh

That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow drooping from her eye.

"No-no," she sighs-" bid me not rise, nor lay my cushion down,

To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing Town.”— "Why rise ye not, Xarifa, nor lay your cushion down? Why gaze ye not, Xarifa, with all the gazing Town?

Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells, and how the people cry.

He stops at Zara's palace-gate-why sit ye still-oh why?"

"At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate; in him shall I discover

The dark-eyed youth pledged me his truth with tears, and was my lover?

I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor lay my cushion down,

To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing Town."



FAREWELL, farewell! Before our prow

Leaps in white foam the noisy channel,
A tourist's cap is on my brow,

My legs are cased in tourist's flannel:

Around me gasp the invalids

(The quantity to-night is fearful)—
I take a brace or so of weeds,

And feel (as yet) extremely cheerful.
The night wears on:-my thirst I quench
With one imperial pint of porter;
Then drop upon a casual bench-

(The bench is short, but I am shorter)—

Place 'neath my head the havre-sac
Which I have stowed my little all in,
And sleep, though moist about the back,
Serenely in an old tarpaulin.

Bed at Ostend at 5 A.M.

Breakfast at 6, and train 6.30.
Tickets to Königswinter (mem.

The seats objectionably dirty).

And onward through those dreary flats
We move, with scanty space to sit on,
Flanked by stout girls with steeple-hats,
And waists that paralyse a Briton ;—

By many a tidy little town,

Where tidy little Fraus sit knitting; (The men's pursuits are lying down, Smoking perennial pipes, and spitting ;)

And doze, and execrate the heat,

And wonder how far off Cologne is, And if we shall get aught to eat,

Till we get there, save raw polonies:

Until at last the "grey old pile"

Is seen, is past, and three hours later We're ordering steaks, and talking vile

Mock-German to an Austrian waiter.

Königswinter, hateful Königswinter!

Burying-place of all I loved so well! Never did the most extensive printer

Print a tale so dark as thou couldst tell!

In the sapphire West the eve yet lingered,

Bathed in kindly light those hill-tops cold; Fringed each cloud, and, stooping rosy-fingered, Changed Rhine's waters into molten gold ;

While still nearer did his light waves splinter
Into silvery shafts the streaming light;
And I said I loved thee, Königswinter,

For the glory that was thine that night.

And we gazed, till slowly disappearing,

Like a day-dream, passed the pageant by, And I saw but those lone hills, uprearing

Dull dark shapes against a hueless sky.

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