the vistas of palaces, and the snail leaves its odious slime in the bower of beauty. The owl screeches in the banquet room which once resounded with the music of home-returned warriors. All nature is rapidly returning to itself, and leaves me as before! Is there no earthquake to swallow me,-no thunderbolt to crush me,-no meteoric flash that will blast me and my name from earth for ever? Egypt, A. M. 4961. On this day I enter into my THOUSANDTH YEAR. The links of my destiny are like the sands on the sea-shore, as countless and as inseparable! With me, the roll of a century is what the turn of an hour-glass is to others, and yet each moment lingers as slowly. On this frowning promontory will I gaze on the world at my feet,-that world of which I am the only thing that will exist as long as itself. Even thou, great Ocean! which I now barely discern at the verge of the horizon, five hundred years hence rolled at my feet, on the spot where I am now sitting,-thou, even thou, retreatest with the footsteps of Time: over me his scythe can plough no furrow. What! not one indication of age have a thousand years of toil, wretchedness, and torture brought? In the bloom of manhood I remain, with the canker of despair ever gnawing on my vitals. My soul is as a sepulchre, in which all corrupteth, but itself remaineth whole. .... A. M. 5083. Joy, joy! Vesuvius is in a roar! Already I hear the hoarse croakings of the wind,-already I draw in the close pestilential air,-already my ears drink the growling of the coming thunder! The head of the volcano is lost in the black clouds that surround it, which will break only to discover the horrors they are concealing. All Nature seems choked; her operations are suspended, the vegetation is withered,—and, drooping, the leaves fall off in showers from the trees; the birds drop from their perches; the cattle lie panting in the scorched fields;-the peasantry fly in wild affright from their homes, without daring to look behind them; mothers forsake their babes, and lovers trample over the bodies of their betrothed! I alone stand unmoved, and with a savage glee behold the desolation around me, and wait the approaching triumph. The thunder ceases. the lightning no longer flashes the air becomes closer and hotter the course of nature is stagnated. . What means this fearful pause? The truth breaks in upon me! The volcano roars, the clouds around it disperse in wild disorder,-showers of electric sparks light the earth to witness the deadly horrors. Huge masses of burning rocks-torrents of stones-rush from the crater, and make the air reverberate with their collision. As far as the eye can reach, all is of a bloody die. Louder becomes the thunder,-the air is filled with the crater's furious discharges, and yet something more dreadful seems approaching. The broad glare of the flames, to which the meridian splendour of the day is as midnight, the shrieks of the living, and the howls of the dying tell that the climax of horrors has arrived. The lava bursts forth in a mighty stream, carrying before it trees, beasts, men, villages, townsnay, even mountains in its course! How the fools fly from it. Ah! happy beings, to dread death! Oh, extatic thought! Oh, luxury never to be tasted by me! I will plunge into the stream-I will bathe in the fiery flood; that cannot disgorge me. It does! and again I am baffled, unscathed-uninjured. Slippery as thou art, with the gore of the slain, I will climb thee, Vesuvius! Already I am on thy sides,-already the scorching heat of the furnace blisters my skin: my eyes seem starting from their sockets: the crater, crowned with blue and sulphurous flames, is vomiting its wrath on my head. I am on the brink; the abyss yawns to receive me. I gaze in vain down its burning depths'tis bottomless. I am on its brim. Say, Death! wilt thou now refuse to receive me? I rise with open arms to embrace thee,-I cling towards thee: one moment more, I am in thy blasting regions. From crag to crag of burning marl I am tossed ;-now thrown up with the scalding lava,-now striking against the flinty sides of the volcano; the fire entering into my veins, and yet all the energies of my mind in full play. Not even the consuming floods of Vesuvius can touch the curse that binds me to existence. Herculaneum, A. M. 5136. For fifty years have I been incarcerated within the slumbering ashes of Vesuvius; till, cast up with its lava, I find myself seated over the remains of a once glorious city. Here, where an empire flourished, the rank weed presumptuously waves its head, and the loathsome toad croaks where beauty once lent her voice to the breeze. I alone am here to remember its faded splendour! Oh, ye savage flood! why did ye not annihilate me with the ruins? Ye overthrew the proudest city on earth, to perpetuate an atom! I look around me, and behold the vast limits of the hemisphere; yet, even they come not up to the uncontrollable boundaries of my thoughts. Throughout the illimitable globe, of which there is not a speck but what is productive, there is nothing that can claim affinity to me. London, A. M. 5669. Three hundred years have elapsed since I was last in England. When under the Roman yoke, I remember it bare and desolate,-its inhabitants wild and uncultivated, and but a few removes from savages. Now, what do I behold it? The mistress of the world! Its people, just recovered from the effects of a revolution, are enjoying the serenity of peace, their hearts brimming with loyalty and affection towards a beloved and accomplished monarch; its court filled with beauties that might contend with the collected triumphs of the world,-with sages, warriors, wits, poets, and philosophers. What a cycle of glory! But yesterday the anniversary of His Majesty's Restoration was celebrated. The bells filled the air with their merry notes; old and young perambulated the streets, in their gayest attire; the public walks were filled with the most brilliant company; music of the most joyous description lent its delicious powers to the general harmony ;- -one general feeling seemed to rule the hearts of all, to be happy and make happy. But now, even now, when scarce four-and-twenty hours have elapsed, what an awful change has already taken place! The promenades are deserted, the shops are not decorated, and the revelries are abandoned. The streets are filled with whispering groupes, who seem drawn towards each other by some irresistible impulse, and yet shudder at the contact. Each face is overspread with gloom; every eye rolls with suspicion and dread. Strange enigma! The secret is at last unfolded. A vague rumour is abroad, that the plague has made its appearance. How every nerve seems shaken,-how every pore seems opened with the dreadful intelligence! Doubt, fear, and mystery are the prevailing characteristics of every countenance. The report has been authenticated! London is one vast scene of hideous alarm; the inhabitants fly about in wild dismay; and the dreadful thought, that each has not more than twenty-four hours to live, seems to be written on their countenances. No longer do the troubled fly into the bosoms of their friends for relief; their misery must be solitary,-they must avoid their fellow creatures as they would a pestilence. Every man has become hateful to himself, and hateful to his brethren; children recoil at the touch of their parents; and mothers refuse suck to their babes, lest, instead of yielding nourishment, they should be administering poison. Forty-eight hours have elapsed since the first symptoms of the plague appeared, and already seven hundred human beings, who were then enjoying the revelry of the jubilee, are numbered with the dead! Feelings seem annihilated,-passions are suspended, men no longer love, envy, or fear each other; death, death alone, stalks through the streets regarded! The roads are choked up with conveyances of every description, filled with individuals who are leaving the homes of their infancy with feelings of the most hateful abhorrence. Property is abandoned,―treasures are forsaken-all nature is returning to herself. Orders are issued, that the dead are to be buried within one hour after their decease; and the red cross* appears in every street. Physicians fear to encounter their patients, the courts of justice are abandoned, the public places of amusement are closed,-all communication ceases between man and man. All efforts to stop the progress of the monster are fruitless; he rages with greater violence-the red cross is at almost every house, and the dead are hourly carried off in cartloads ! As soon as the first symptom has shown itself, the victim is abandoned, and permitted to rave through the agony of his few wretched hours alone, without a friendly hand to close his dying eyes,-without the satisfaction of knowing that a tear will be shed when his sufferings are ended; but, with the dreadful assurance, that as soon as they are, or even perhaps before the last spark of life is extinct, he will be heaped with a score of others, and thrown headlong into a pit, without the common ritual of the dead being repeated over his manes,for, the infection still remaining with the corpse, no clergyman is to be found who will venture to perform the last offices of humanity. Every churchyard is filled; large pits are dug at different distances from the metropolis, where the bodies of the deceased are thrown. The largest sums are offered to those who are willing to perform the office of burial, but even the very beggars shun the proffered gold. Trade, agriculture, and life itself, all seem at a stand-still. The appearance of London is that of a city that has been ransacked, and its inhabitants destroyed. Immediately that a house is infected, the fur *The red cross was the symbol placed on the outside of the houses, to signiify that the dead were lying there for interment. niture is taken and piled in a large heap, and set fire to in the street; some part escapes the conflagration, and adds to the general desolation of the scene. Every shop is closed, grass covers the pavement of the greatest thoroughfares, the sound of a footstep is heard at a considerable distance. I-I alone, wander about the streets unmolested, Through the dark rooms and pestilential air of the sick-amidst the howls of the dying, courting the arrow of death, which strikes every heart, but that which opens itself to it. How often have I mingled myself in the direst scenes of corruption-how often have I watched the robber of life fell his victims one after the other, yet leave me untouched and uninjured. A. M. 5771. Another hundred years have flown-I am still existing; new ages of misery are forming for me. Oh, Man! who repinest at the sorrows of one life, oh, think ye of mine, which comprehends those of a thousand! Every sorrow, vexation, mortification, and misery of near eighteen hundred years, are still fresh in my mind, as on the moment in which they occurred. But they even, with all their horrors, are not equal to the clouds that hang over my destiny. New torments-fresh miseries are in store for me; and even when thou, who now readest the tale of my horrors, with thy children, and thy children's children shall be gathered with the dust, I shall be but commencing another era of wretchedness. Thrice have I ascended thrones as a monarch—innumerable times have I led armies to the field of battle, with no other hope or ambition than that some friendly sword would bring the gift of death along with it :-thrice have I been brought to the scaffold as a common criminal-thrice have I rushed into the abyss of an earthquake-innumerable times have I thrown myself on the vengeance of the ocean:-Each and every time have I been defeated. At this moment I am pining over my miseries! Will they never cease? May I never hope for death? No! life holds me in eternal bondage, and hell itself has no corner for me. THE LOVER'S LEXICON. ABSENCE. If a lover should say, "How much must my absence from you cost me! how tedious will the hours seem!" this signifies precisely : "If I was always with you, my stock of fine speeches would soon be exhausted, I should have nothing new to say to you; but as it is, when you see me again you will like me the better."" ADVANCES.-When these are made on a woman's side, they either indicate an excessive superiority or an excessive love. A woman who has made advances, never remembers them without rage, unless she has reason to remember them with pleasure. ADMIRABLE. Every thing spoken by a lover's mistress. AFFLICT, AFFLICTION.-By these words is commonly understood the effect upon our mind of some disagreeable object. It is only in the mouth or letters of a lover, that they have little or no meaning. AMIABLE.-Lovely. Formerly denoted a person whose beauty and merit captivated the heart. It is now in very common use, and applied indifferently to all whom we take for the objects of our fancy, vanity, or fulsome mawkish flattery. ANGEL. A woman with much beauty and few brains. No man would insult a woman of sense by calling her an angel, because she must feel that she cannot have any real charms, by his clothing her with imaginary ones. BEAUTY. Socrates calls it a short-lived tyranny; Plato, the privilege of nature; Theophrastus, a mute eloquence; Diogenes, the most forcible letter of recommendation; Carneades, a queen without soldiers; Theocritus, a serpent covered with flowers; Bion, a good that does not belong to the possessor, because it is impossible to give one's self beauty, or to preserve it. After this most learned display of quotations, all bristled with Greek names, may be added the definition of a more modern author, who calls it a bait that as often catches the fisher as the fish. BEAU. A common word, to express a medley character of coxcomb and fop: also, the term sometimes appropriated to a lady's lover; but in general, and with greater propriety, to a being infinitely more contemptible. See Danglers. CHARMS.-An harmonious word, rather hacknied; indifferently lavished, and signifies no more than attractions. The solid substantial charms in these days are such as are vested in the funds, or in bags, bills, bonds, parchments, &c. &c. COQUETTE. One who wants to engage the men without engaging herself; whose chief aim is to be thought agreeable, handsome, and amiable, though a composition of levity and vanity. She resembles a fire-eater, who makes a show of handling and even chewing live coals, without sustaining any damage from the fire. COUNTENANCE. A gay, smiling one, in a coquette, signifies encouragement; that she would be glad to enlist as many lovers as possible; that she would wish to see men sacrifice their best friends to her; and that she keeps open a refuge for all deserters: that nothing but joy and mirth are to be found in her service; and that not to be in love with her, is to be one's own enemy, and defrauding one's self of the pleasures of gaiety and unreserve. A cold serious countenance in a mistress is an admirable expedient; when artfully employed it leads to every thing, either a reconciliation or a rupture, just as she shall see fit. After a quarrel, it signifies that she will keep up the dignity of her sex, and give herself the pleasure of hearing her lover make new protestations. If this does not succeed, she may put on a tender countenance: but in this, the occasion, the humour of her lover, or her own passion, generally determines the difference. |