From bowers of Daphne on Parnassus' Mount, CHORUS. When thou 'rt dim, with harp and hymn Hail to thee, Apollo ! God of the golden lyre and laurel wreath, To thee each poet turns with yearning heart And thoughtful eyes, invoking thee to breathe Thine inspiration With a start The minstrel ceased, for over all the bark Phlias, the son of Bacchus, seized his bow, But Mopsus, gifted with an augur's skill, Gently held back his arm, and bade him wait Extending now his oar-like wings, But with a sudden dart he rush'd away, In desolate state beneath their crowns of snow. Upon whose rocky floor environ'd round With adamantine chains Prometheus lies bound, Thither the ravenous wonder wing'd his flight, Is fixed upon the spot, and every heart Still do they gaze, half-willing to dismiss Gracious God, what a shriek! Is tearing out his victims heart! And throws its fear afar, a start Earth trembles to her very base Air seems to swoon-the sky to frown- Hark! what a furious clash of chains! The brazen bolts that root thee to the rock; But still with thrilling breasts and stedfast eyes The flapping main-sail quakes, And all seem'd turn'd to statues at the sight. With flashing eyes and visage red, Again uprear'd his bow, and drew When from the eagle's beak a drop of gore And haggard eyes still staring on the drop, And all in awe struck mood Ponder'd in silence on that omen horrid. The sun went down, and far into the gloom Of the bewilder'd Argonauts resume The vessel's guidance as her way she won.- Of the blind wind and watery element, THE BAPTISM OF THE BELLS. "I began to smoke that they were a parcel of mummers." ADDISON. “WHO has e'er been at Paris must needs know the Grêve," says the old song; and according to the same authority we may conclude, that who has e'er been at Versailles must needs know the cathedral of St. Louis, though it may not be of the same universal notoriety to English visitants, that, during the period of revolutionary madness, its spacious and handsome interior was not only converted into a public corn market, but four of its bells being suspected of having royal epigraphs engraven upon their surface, and absolutely convicted of being worth a considerable sum of money, were dismounted from the belfry, to the great dismay of all good Catholics and sincere admirers of "triple-bob-majors." The two that were left, albeit sadly disheartened by the loss of the companions with whom they had so often rung the merry chimes of glad ness, continued, under the pious reign of Napoleon, to invite the good folks of the Quartier de St. Louis, to come to church or go to be buried, until the happy period of the restoration, when it became distinctly audible to all those who had Whittingtonian ears, that they called aloud with their iron tongues for the completion of the restoration in the belfry, by procuring substitutes for their four dethroned sisters. To this affecting appeal the faithful were not slow in reply, especially, as the vicar general, the grand vicar, the canons, choristers, and vergers, were all supremely scandalized ("tantæne cœlestibus iræ ?") that they should have only two bells in active service, while the neighbouring church of Notre Dame possessed its full complement. Could the want have been supplied from their own funds, I verily believe there would have been no hesitation in appropriating them to so pathetic a claim; but as they were only rich in good works, fine garments, and sounding titles, it was resolved that a subscription should be opened for the purpose, that the curé should address a circular letter to his parishioners announcing the fact, and that the Soeurs de Charité, worthy nuns so called, and who are always foremost in every work of pious charity, should go round pour faire la Quete. In this printed missive, the curé began by noticing, in a bantering strain, the obvious tone of lamentation and ululation lately assumed by the two sisterless bells; proceeded to inculcate, with more solemnity, the imperative duty of restoring the deficient appurtenances of the church; but couched his whole letter in that character of familiar good-humour, and even gaiety, which accompanies all their religious exercises, and forms so striking a contrast to the austerity, gloom, and mortification of English observances. In their black flannel dresses with white stomachers, white cloth caps with long lappets, and belts round their waists supporting rosaries, crucifixes, bunches of keys, relics, lucky half pence with holes in them, and other trumpery, the sisters of charity went their rounds, collecting with such unexampled success, that, according to the accounts of the French, (who, however, are somewhat given to exaggeration,) they have more than once extracted ten francs from a single house, which did not perhaps contain more than a dozen respectable families. Of course the mass of the offerings assumed the less ambitious form of copper, of which humble material a sufficient quantity was collected, after a long and tedious delay, to authorize the casting of the bells. This happy consummation was announced to the subscribers by a little pamphlet from the curé, informing them that the bells were to be consecrated on the 6th of January, 1824, by Monseigneur l'Evêque de Versailles, and named by the king and her royal highness the duchess of Angoulême-reciting the inscription upon each bell-giving a short essay upon the spirit of the ceremony and the prayers, and concluding with the following significant passage:" On ne paiera point les chaises ni les banquettes; mais je ferai moimême la quête, pour achever de payer, s'il est possible, le montant des cloches et les frais de la cérémonie du jour." For fear of committing any mistake in so important a matter as the inscriptions, I shall give the exact words of the original, merely premising that they were the same upon each bell, varying only as to the name and the order of succession. Je suis la première de quatre Sœurs, qui ont été offertes à Dieu par le clergé, la Ville, et les Paroissiens de Saint Louis. J'ai été bénite par Monseigneur Louis Charrier de la Roche, Evêque de Versailles, et nommée MARIE par Sa majesté Louis XVIII. Roi de France et de Navarre, et par S. A. R. Madame (Marie Thérèse Charlotte,) Fille de LOUIS XVI. Duchesse d'Angouleme; M. Le Bonhomme étant curé de l'Eglise Saint Louis de Versailles, Vicaire Gal du Diocèse; M. Lagrolé Grand Vicaire, Président de la Fabrique; MM. Vaquier, Tardy, Picot, |