He spake, and led her near a straw-roofed cot, Love's palace. By the Virtues circled there, The Immortal listened to such melodies

As aye, when one good deed is registered
Above, re-echo in the halls of heaven.

Labor was there, his crisp locks floating loose;
Clear was his cheek, and beaming his full eye,
And strong his arm robust. The wood-nymph
Health

Still followed on his path; and, where he trod,
Fresh flowers and fruits arose. And there was Hope,
The general friend; and Pity, whose mild eye
Wept o'er the widowed dove; and, loveliest form,
Majestic Chastity, whose sober smile

Delights and awes the soul: a laurel wreath
Restrained her tresses, and upon her breast
The snowdrop hung its head, that seemed to grow
Spontaneous, cold and fair. Beside the maid
Love went submiss, with eye more dangerous
Than fancied basilisk to wound whoe'er

Too bold approached; yet anxious would he read
Her every rising wish, then only pleased

When pleasing. Hymning him, the song was raised.

66

Glory to thee, whose vivifying power
Pervades all Nature's universal frame!

Glory to thee, Creator Love! to thee,
Parent of all the smiling Charities,

That strew the thorny path of life with flowers!
Glory to thee, Preserver! To thy praise

The awakened woodlands echo all the day
Their living melody; and, warbling forth
To thee her twilight song, the nightingale
Holds the lone traveller from his way, or charms
The listening poet's ear. Where Love shall deign
To fix his seat, there blameless Pleasure sheds
Her roseate dews; Content will sojourn there;
And Happiness behold Affection's eye

Gleam with the mother's smile. Thrice happy he
Who feels thy holy power! he shall not drag,
Forlorn and friendless, along life's long path
To age's drear abode; he shall not waste
The bitter evening of his days unsoothed;
But Hope shall cheer his hours of solitude,
And Vice shall vainly strive to wound his breast,
That bears that talisman; and when he meets
The eloquent eye of Tenderness, and hears
The bosom-thrilling music of her voice,
The joy he feels shall purify his soul,
And imp it for anticipated heaven.”

NOTES TO THE VISION OF THE MAID

OF ORLEANS.

NOTE 1, p. 325. — Instructing best the passive faculty.

MAY says of Serapis ; —

"Erudit at placide humanam per somnia mentem,

Nocturnaque quiete docet; nulloque labore

Hic tantum parta est pretiosa scientia, nullo

Excutitur studio verum. Mortalia corda

Tunc Deus iste docet, cum sunt minus apta doceri,

Cum nullum obsequium præstant, meritisque fatentur
Nil sese debere suis; tunc recta scientes

Cum nil scire valent. Non illo tempore sensus
Humanos forsan dignatur numen inire,

Cum propriis possunt per se discursibus uti,
Ne forte humanâ ratio divina coiret."

Sup. Lucani.

I have met with a singular tale to illustrate this spiritual theory of dreams:

Guntrum, King of the Franks, was liberal to the poor; and he himself experienced the wonderful effects of divine liberality. For one day, as he was hunting in a forest, he was separated from his companions, and arrived at a little stream of water, with only one comrade of tried and approved fidelity. Here he found himself oppressed by drowsiness, and, reclining his head upon the servant's lap, went to sleep. The servant witnessed a wonderful thing; for he saw a little beast creep out of the mouth of his sleeping master, and go immediately to the streamlet, which it vainly attempted to cross. The servant drew his sword, and laid it across the water, over which

the little beast easily passed, and crept into a hole of a mountain on the opposite side; from whence it made its appearance again in an hour, and returned by the same means into the king's mouth. The king then awakened, and told his companion that he had dreamt that he was arrived upon the bank of an immense river, which he had crossed by a bridge of iron, and from thence came to a mountain in which a great quantity of gold was concealed. When the king had concluded, the servant related what he had beheld; and they both went to examine the mountain, where, upon digging, they discovered an immense weight of gold.

I stumbled upon this tale in a book entitled, "SPHINX, Theologico-Philosophica. Authore Johanne Heidfeldio, Ecclesiaste Ebersbachiano.

1621."

The same story is in Matthew of Westminster. It is added that Guntrum applied the treasures thus found to pious uses.

For the truth of the theory, there is the evidence of a monkish miracle. When Thurcillus was about to follow St. Julian, and visit the world of souls, his guide said to him, "Let thy body rest in the bed; for thy spirit only is about to depart with me; and, lest the body should appear dead, I will send into it a vital breath."

The body, however, by a strange sympathy, was affected like the spirit; for, when the foul and fetid smoke which arose from the tithes withheld on earth had nearly suffocated Thurcillus, and made him cough twice, those who were near his body said that it coughed twice about the same time. - Matthew Paris.

NOTE 3, p. 337.—Or deeper sable dyed.

These lines strongly resemble a passage in the "Pharonnida" of William Chamberlayne, a poet who has told an interesting story in uncouth rhymes, and mingled sublimity of thought and beauty of expression with the quaintest conceits and most awkward inversions:

"On a rock more high

Than Nature's common surface, she beholds
The mansion-house of Fate, which thus unfolds

Its sacred mysteries. A trine within

A quadrate placed, both these encompast in

A perfect circle was its form; but what
Its matter was, for us to wonder at,

Is undiscovered left. A tower there stands

At every angle, where Time's fatal hands,

The impartial Parcæ, dwell. I' the first she sees
Clotho, the kindest of the Destinies,

From immaterial essences to cull

The seeds of life, and of them frame the wool
For Lachesis to spin. About her flie

Myriads of souls, that yet want flesh to lie

Warm'd with their functions in, whose strength bestows
That power by which man ripe for misery grows.

"Her next of objects was that glorious tower
Where that swift-fingered nymph, that spares no hour
From mortals' service, draws the various threads
Of life in several lengths; to weary beds
Of age extending some, whilst others in
Their infancy are broke: some blackt in sin;
Others, the favorites of Heaven, from whence
Their origin, candid with innocence :

Some purpled in afflictions, others dycd
In sanguine pleasures; some in glittering pride
Spun to adorn the earth, whilst others wear
Rags of deformity: but knots of care
No thread was wholly free from. Next to this
Fair, glorious tower was placed that black abyss
Of dreadful Atropos, the baleful seat
Of Death and Horrour, in each room repleat
With lazy damps, loud groans, and the sad sight
Of pale, grim ghosts, those terrours of the night.
To this, the last stage that the winding clew

Of life can lead mortality unto,

Fear was the dreadful porter, which let in

All guests sent thither by destructive Sin."

It is possible that I may have written from the recollection of this passage. The conceit is the same; and I willingly attribute it to Chamberlayne, a poet to whom I am indebted for many hours of delight.