Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 13, No. 367, April 25, 1829», страница 2

DISCOVERY OF THE MINES OF HAYNA, FROM AN INCIDENT IN IRVING'S LIFE OF COLUMBUS

(For the Mirror.)

 
Oh, go not yet, my lord, my love, lie down by Zenia's side,
And think not for thy white men friends, to leave thy Indian bride,
For she will steer thy light canoe across Ozuma's lake,
To where the fragrant citron groves perfume the banyan brake;
And wouldst thou chase the nimble deer, or dark-eyed antelope,
She'll lend thee to their woody haunts, behind the mountain's slope,
And when thy hunter task is done, and spent thy spirit's force,
She'll weave for thee a plantain bower, beside a streamlet's course,
Where the sweet music of the leaves shall lull thee to repose.
Hence in Zenia's watchful love, from harmful beast, or foes,
And when the spirit of the storm, in wild tornades rides by,
She'll hide thee in a cave, beneath a rocky panoply.
 
 
Look, Zenia look, the fleecy clouds move on the western gales,
And see the white men's moving home, unfurls her swelling sails,
So farewell India's spicy groves, farewell its burning clime,
And farewell Zenia, but to love, no farewell can be mine;
Not for the brightest Spanish maid, shall Diez' vow be riven,
So if we meet no more on earth, I will be thine in heaven.
 
 
Oh, go not yet, my godlike love, stay but a moment more
And Zenia's step shall lead thee on, to Hayna's golden shore,
No white man's foot has ever trod, the vale that slumbers there,
Or forced the gold bird from its nest, or Gato from his lair;
But cradled round by giant hills, lies many a golden mine,
And all the treasure they contain, shall be my Diez thine,
And all my tribe will be thy friends, our warrior chief thy guard,
With Zenia's breast thy faithful shield, thy love her sweet reward.
 
 
The valley's won, the friends are true, revealed the golden tide.
And Diez for Hispania's shore, quits not his Indian bride.
 

D.A.H.

RECENT VISIT TO POMPEII

(For the Mirror.)

For the following details respecting a city, accounts of which, (although so many are already before the public,) are always interesting, I am indebted to the oral communication of a friend which I immediately committed to paper.

M.L.B.

My object in visiting Naples was to view that celebrated relic of antiquity—the city of Pompeii, of which, about one half is now supposed to be cleared. The workmen proceed but slowly, nevertheless something is always being done, and some new remnant of antiquity is almost daily brought to light; indeed, a fine statue was discovered, almost immediately after my visit to this interesting place, but as I had quitted Naples I could not return to see it. A stranger, is I think, apt to be much disappointed in the size of Pompeii; it was on the whole, not more than three miles through, and is rather to be considered the model of a town, than one in itself. In fact, it is merely an Italian villa, or properly, a collection of villas; and the extreme smallness of what we may justly term the citizens' boxes, is another source of astonishment to those who have been used to contemplate Roman architecture in the magnificence of magnitude. Pompeii however, must always interest the intelligent observer, not more on account of its awful and melancholy associations, than for the opportunity which it affords, of remarking the extreme similarity existing between the modes of living then, and now. "'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!" for in truth, we are enabled to surmise, from the relics of this buried and disinterred town, that manners and customs, arts, sciences, and trades, have undergone but little change in Italy since the period of its inhumation until now. In Pompeii, the shops of the baker and chemist are particularly worthy of attention, for you might really fancy yourself stepped into a modern bottéga in each of these; but, the museum of Naples, wherein are deposited most of the articles dug from Pompeii, Herculaneum, and Pæstum, is a most extraordinary lion, and one which cannot fail to affect very deeply the spectators; there you may behold furniture, arms, and trinkets; and the jewellery is, I can assure you, both in materials, pattern, and workmanship, very similar indeed to that at present in fashion, and little injured by the lapse of years, and the hot ashes under which it was buried.² There too, you may behold various domestic and culinary utensils; and there it is quite curious to observe various jars and bottles of fruits, and pickles, evidently preserved then, the same as they are by our notable housekeepers now; of course they are blackened and incinerated, nevertheless, the forms of pears, apples, chestnuts, cherries, medlars, &c. &c. are still distinguishable. Very little furniture has been found in Pompeii; probably, because it was only occasionally resorted to as a place of residence, like our own summer haunts of the drinkers of sea and mineral waters; or, the inhabitants might have had warning of the coming misfortune, and conveyed most of their effects to a safer place; a surmise strengthened by the circumstance of so few human skeletons having been found hitherto in the town; in the museum, however, is a specimen of the inclined couch or sofa, used at meals, with tables, and other articles of furniture. The method of warming apartments by flues, and ventilating them, as now practised, was known to the inhabitants of Pompeii. Of this town, amongst public buildings, the Forum, the Theatre, and the Temple of Isis, have been discovered; and the latter has revealed, in a curious manner, the iniquitous jugglery of the heathen priests. The statue of Isis, was, it seems, oracular, and stood on a very high pedestal, or kind of altar in the temple of the goddess. Within this pedestal a flight of steps has been discovered, ascending to a metal tube or pipe; which, fixed in the hollow body of the statue, and attached to its lips, the priest of Isis was enabled by speaking through this tube, to make the poor deluded multitude believe that their idol gave articulate answers to their anxious queries! We have heard of similar delusions being practised by Christian priests, in days comparatively modern! But, only let us conceive, the shame and dismay which would now suffuse the countenance of one of these worshippers of Pompeian Isis, could he but behold the deception which had been practised upon him unsuspectedly! I have said, that but few skeletons have been found in Pompeii; all that have been met with are covered with ornaments, and appear as in the act of escaping from their hapless town, with what they could carry off of their most valuable possessions; from which death would not relinquish his hold. More wealth is supposed to have been buried in Herculaneum, from that which has already been found therein; but owing to the excessive difficulty, time, and expense, which the attempt to bring it to light would occasion, excavations in this city, are now almost, if not entirely, abandoned; for it is to be remembered, that Herculaneum was destroyed by a flood of liquid lava, which as it cools, hardens into solid and impenetrable rock; whereas the hot ashes of Vesuvius overwhelmed Pompeii, and consequently it is much less difficult to clear.

THE CONVICT'S DREAM

(For the Mirror.)

"A wreck of crime upon his stony bed."

R. Montgomery.

 
He who would learn the true remorse for crime
Should watch (when slumbers innocence, and guilt
Or wakes in sleepless pain, or dreams of blood)
The convict stretched on his reposeless bed.
Then conscience plays th' accusing angel;
Spectres of murder'd victims flit before
His eyes, with soul-appalling vividness;
Hideous phantasma shadow o'er his mind;
Guilt, incubus-like, sits on his soul
With leaden weight,—types of the pangs of hell.
His memory to the scene of blood reverts;
He hears the echo of his victims' cry,
Whose agonizing eyes again are fixed
Upon his face, pleading for mercy.
See! how he writhes in speechless agony!
As morning dew-drops on the face of nature,
So hangs upon his brow the clammy sweat.
Each feature of his face, each limb, each nerve,
Distorted with remorse and agony,
Is fraught with nature's speechless eloquence,
And is a faithful witness to his sin.
It is not all a dream, but memory holds
Before the sleeper's eyes her magic glass,
In which he sees the image of the past.
 

Huddersfield. S.J.

ANTICIPATION

(For the Mirror.)

 
'Twixt the appointment and the day
Ages seem to roll away—
Lingering doubts and cares arise,
Fancy glows with sweet surmise;
Now a hope—and now a fear,
First a smile—and then a tear;
But that day may never come,
Death may seal thine earthly doom.
Or that day may prove unkind,
Thine anticipation blind!
The best pleasure thou wilt know
May be to brood upon thy woe:
Wailing happy days gone by,
When fancied pleasures mock'd thine eye:
Days that never shall return.
Mortal, then, this lesson learn—
Struggle not against thy fate,
For thy last day hath its date!
It is written in the skies,
And a guardian angel cries,
Dream no more of earthly joys,
They are fleeting, fickle toys.
 

Cymbeline.