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DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM.
FALLEN is thy throne, O Israel !
Silence is on thy plains ;
Thy children weep in chains.
On Etham's barren shore ?
Now lights thy paths no more.
Lord, thou didst love Jerusalem !
Once she was all thine own;
Her power, thy glory's throne ?,
Thy long-lov'd olive tree 3,
For other gods than Thee.
Then sank the star of Solyma,
Then pass'd her glory's day;
The wild wind whirls away.
Where once the mighty trod,
Where Baal reign'd as God!
Steep in her blood your swords;
For they are not the Lord's;
· Jeremiah, xii. 7. • Jeremiah, xi, 16.
: Jeremiah, xiv. 21. * Jeremiah, xvii. 6.
Tell Zion's mournful daughter,
O'er kindred bones she'll tread;
Shall hide but half her dead.”
But soon shall other pictur'd scenes,
In brighter visions rise,
O'er all her mourners' eyes;
At a step
LET us turn the prow,
Once did I linger there alone, till day
| The Elder Pliny. See the letters in which his nephew relates to Tacitus the circumstances of his death. (A. D. 79.)In the morning of that day Vesuvius was covered with the most luxuriant vegetation ; every elm had its vine, every vine (for it was in the month of August) its clusters; nor in the cities below was there a thought of danger, though their interment was so soon to take place. In Pompeii, if we may believe Dion Cassius, the people were sitting in the theatre when the work of destruction began.
Just where the three ways meet, I stood and look’d,
Mark, where within, as though the embers liv'd,
1 The house of Pansa the edile is one of the largest yet discovered in Pompeii, and is handsomely decorated with marbles and mosaics. It is in the Via Consularis, the principal street. It is remarkable that Cicero, when on his way to Cilicia, was the bearer of a letter to Atticus from Pansa the Pompeian. “ That this was the house in question, and that in the street, as we passed along, we might have met Cicero, coming or going, every pilgrim to Pompeii must wish to believe.” Delighting in the beauties of the Neapolitan coast, Cicero could be no stranger in this city.
. The carriage wheels have worn deep traces in the pavement.
3 The houses are all numbered and named.
• In this building there are four corn mills, and a stable for the donkeys, who were blindfolded, when employed in grinding the corn, as they still are in the south of Italy. Heaps of corn were found here. Amphoræ, or earthen jars for flour, the oven for baking, varying so little from those made at present, that it might easily be restored to its original use. Cato praises the skilful millers of Pompeii.
Each ready for its office — but he comes not.
But lo, engraven on a threshold-stone,
And now a harp-string as struck carelessly,
Ah, no, 'tis but a mockery of the sense,
i On the marble dresser are stains evidently made by the contents of the cups having been spilled. Each shop has a stove, which was requisite, as the ancients were accustomed to boil their wines.
: On the door-sill of one of the apartments in the house of the Vestals is the word “ Salve” wrought in mosaic.
THE FALCON'S REWARD.
AN EASTERN STORY.
BENEATH the fiery cope of middle day
The youthful Prince, his train left all behind, With eager ken gaz'd round him every way,
If springing well he any where might find. His favourite falcon, from long aëry flight
Returning, and from quarry struck at last, Told of the chase, which with its keen delight
Had thus allur'd him on so far and fast,
Till gladly he had welcom'd in his drought
The dullest pool that gather'd in the rain ; But such, in fount of clearer wave, he sought
Long through that land of barrenness in vain.
What pleasure when, slow stealing o'er a rock,
He spied the glittering of a little rill, Which yet, as if his burning thirst to mock,
Did its rare treasures drop by drop distil.
A golden goblet from his saddle-bow
He loos’d, and from his steed alighted down To wait until that fountain, trickling slow,
Shall in the end his golden goblet crown. When set beside the promise of that draught, How
poor had seem'd to him the costliest wine, That ever with its beaded bubbles laugh’d,
When set beside that nectar more divine.
The brimming vessel to his lips at last
He rais'd, when, lo! the falcon on his hand, With beak’s and pinion's sudden impulse, cast
That cup's rare treasure all upon the san