{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_49332/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_49332","id":"gutenberg_49332","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49332","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","English fiction"],"text":"THE\n\n                               EPICUREAN,\n\n                                A TALE.\n\n                                   BY\n\n                              THOMAS MOORE.\n\n\n*Second Edition.*\n\nLONDON:\nPRINTED FOR\nLONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN,\nPATERNOSTER\u2010ROW.\n1827.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Publishers beg to inform the Composers of Music, and Music Sellers,\nthat MR. JAMES POWER, of the Strand, Music Seller, is the only person\nauthorized by them to publish the SONGS or VERSES in this Work connected\nwith Music.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                   TO\n                            LORD JOHN RUSSELL\n                              _THIS VOLUME_\n                              IS INSCRIBED\n                    BY ONE WHO ADMIRES HIS CHARACTER\n                              AND TALENTS,\n                     AND IS PROUD OF HIS FRIENDSHIP.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                    A\n                        LETTER TO THE TRANSLATOR,\n\n\n                                  FROM\n                                 \u2014\u2014, ESQ.\n_Cairo, June 19. 1800._\nMy dear Sir,\n\nIn a visit I lately paid to the monastery of St. Macarius,\u2014which is\nsituated, as you know, in the Valley of the Lakes of Natron,\u2014I was lucky\nenough to obtain possession of a curious Greek manuscript, which, in the\nhope that you may be induced to translate it, I herewith send you.\nObserving one of the monks very busily occupied in tearing up, into a\nvariety of fantastic shapes, some papers which had the appearance of being\nthe leaves of old books, I enquired of him the meaning of his task, and\nreceived the following explanation:\u2014\n\nThe Arabs, it seems, who are as fond of pigeons as the ancient Egyptians,\nhave a superstitious notion that, if they place in their pigeon\u2010houses\nsmall scraps of paper, written over with learned characters, the birds are\nalways sure to thrive the better for the charm; and the monks, who are\nnever slow in profiting by superstition, have, at all times, a supply of\nsuch amulets for purchasers.\n\nIn general, the holy fathers have been in the habit of scribbling these\nmystic fragments, themselves; but a discovery, which they have lately\nmade, saves them this trouble. Having dug up (as my informant stated) a\nchest of old manuscripts, which, being chiefly on the subject of alchemy,\nmust have been buried in the time of Dioclesian, \u201cwe thought we could\nnot,\u201d added the monk, \u201cemploy such rubbish more properly, than in tearing\nit up, as you see, for the pigeon\u2010houses of the Arabs.\u201d\n\nOn my expressing a wish to rescue some part of these treasures from the\nfate to which his indolent fraternity had consigned them, he produced the\nmanuscript which I have now the pleasure of sending you,\u2014the only one, he\nsaid, remaining entire,\u2014and I very readily paid him the price he demanded\nfor it.\n\nYou will find the story, I think, not altogether uninteresting; and the\ncoincidence, in many respects, of the curious details in Chap. VI. with\nthe description of the same ceremonies in the Romance of _Sethos_(1),\nwill, I have no doubt, strike you. Hoping that you may be tempted to give\na translation of this Tale to the world,\n\n                                                       I am, my dear Sir,\n                                                        Very truly yours,\n                                                                        \u2014\u2014\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                              THE EPICUREAN.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAPTER I.\n\n\nIt was in the fourth year of the reign of the late Emperor Valerian, that\nthe followers of Epicurus, who were at that time numerous in Athens,\nproceeded to the election of a person to fill the vacant chair of their\nsect;\u2014and, by the unanimous voice of the School, I was the individual\nchosen for their Chief. I was just then entering on my twenty\u2010fourth year,\nand no instance had ever before occurred, of a person so young being\nselected for that office. Youth, however, and the personal advantages that\nadorn it, were not, it may be supposed, among the least valid\nrecommendations, to a sect that included within its circle all the beauty\nas well as wit of Athens, and which, though dignifying its pursuits with\nthe name of philosophy, was little else than a pretext for the more\nrefined cultivation of pleasure.\n\nThe character of the sect had, indeed, much changed, since the time of its\nwise and virtuous founder, who, while he asserted that Pleasure is the\nonly Good, inculcated also that Good is the only source of Pleasure. The\npurer part of this doctrine had long evaporated, and the temperate\nEpicurus would have as little recognised his own sect in the assemblage of\nrefined voluptuaries who now usurped its name, as he would have known his\nown quiet Garden in the luxurious groves and bowers among which the\nmeetings of the School were now held.\n\nMany causes, besides the attractiveness of its doctrines, concurred, at\nthis period, to render our school the most popular of any that still\nsurvived the glory of Greece. It may generally be observed, that the\nprevalence, in one half of a community, of very rigid notions on the\nsubject of religion, produces the opposite extreme of laxity and\ninfidelity in the other; and this kind of re\u2010action it was that now mainly\ncontributed to render the doctrines of the Garden the most fashionable\nphilosophy of the day. The rapid progress of the Christian faith had\nalarmed all those, who, either from piety or worldliness, were interested\nin the continuance of the old established creed\u2014all who believed in the\nDeities of Olympus, and all who lived by them. The consequence was, a\nconsiderable increase of zeal and activity, throughout the constituted\nauthorities and priesthood of the whole Heathen world. What was wanting in\nsincerity of belief was made up in rigour;\u2014the weakest parts of the\nMythology were those, of course, most angrily defended, and any\nreflections, tending to bring Saturn, or his wife Ops, into contempt, were\npunished with the utmost severity of the law.\n\nIn this state of affairs, between the alarmed bigotry of the declining\nFaith, and the simple, sublime austerity of her rival, it was not\nwonderful that those lovers of ease and pleasure, who had no interest,\nreversionary or otherwise, in the old religion, and were too indolent to\nenquire into the sanctions of the new, should take refuge from the\nseverities of both under the shelter of a luxurious philosophy, which,\nleaving to others the task of disputing about the future, centered all its\nwisdom in the full enjoyment of the present.\n\nThe sectaries of the Garden had, ever since the death of their founder,\nbeen accustomed to dedicate to his memory the twentieth day of every\nmonth. To these monthly rites had, for some time, been added a grand\nannual Festival, in commemoration of his birth. The feasts, given on this\noccasion by my predecessors in the Chair, had been invariably\ndistinguished for their taste and splendour; and it was my ambition, not\nmerely to imitate this example, but even to render the anniversary, now\ncelebrated under my auspices, so brilliant, as to efface the recollection\nof all that went before it.\n\nSeldom, indeed, had Athens witnessed such a scene. The grounds that formed\nthe original site of the Garden had, from time to time, received\nconsiderable additions; and the whole extent was laid out with that\nperfect taste, which knows how to wed Nature to Art, without sacrificing\nher simplicity to the alliance. Walks, leading through wildernesses of\nshade and fragrance\u2014glades, opening, as if to afford a play\u2010ground for the\nsunshine\u2014temples, rising on the very spots where imagination herself would\nhave called them up, and fountains and lakes, in alternate motion and\nrepose, either wantonly courting the verdure, or calmly sleeping in its\nembrace,\u2014such was the variety of feature that diversified these fair\ngardens; and, animated as they were on this occasion, by all the living\nwit and loveliness of Athens, it afforded a scene such as my own youthful\nfancy, rich as it was then in images of luxury and beauty, could hardly\nhave anticipated.\n\nThe ceremonies of the day began with the very dawn, when, according to the\nform of simpler and better times, those among the disciples who had\napartments within the Garden, bore the image of our Founder in procession\nfrom chamber to chamber, chanting verses in praise of\u2014what had long ceased\nto be objects of our imitation\u2014his frugality and temperance.\n\nRound a beautiful lake, in the centre of the garden, stood four white\nDoric temples, in one of which was collected a library containing all the\nflowers of Grecian literature; while, in the remaining three,\nConversation, the Song, and the Dance, held, uninterrupted by each other,\ntheir respective rites. In the Library stood busts of all the most\nillustrious Epicureans, both of Rome and Greece\u2014Horace, Atticus, Pliny the\nelder, the poet Lucretius, Lucian, and the biographer of the Philosophers,\nlately lost to us, Diogenes Laertius. There were also the portraits, in\nmarble, of all the eminent female votaries of the school\u2014Leontium and her\nfair daughter Danae, Themista, Phil\u00e6nis, and others.\n\nIt was here that, in my capacity of Heresiarch, on the morning of the\nFestival, I received the felicitations of the day from some of the fairest\nlips of Athens; and, in pronouncing the customary oration to the memory of\nour Master (in which it was usual to dwell on the doctrines he inculcated)\nendeavoured to attain that art, so useful before such an audience, of\ndiffusing over the gravest subjects a charm, which secures them listeners\neven among the simplest and most volatile.\n\nThough study, as may easily be supposed, engrossed but little of the\nmornings of the Garden, yet the lighter part of learning,\u2014that portion of\nits attic honey, for which the bee is not obliged to go very deep into the\nflower\u2014was zealously cultivated. Even here, however, the student had to\nencounter distractions, which are, of all others, least favourable to\ncomposure of thought; and, with more than one of my fair disciples, there\nused to occur such scenes as the following, which a poet of the Garden,\ntaking his picture from the life, described:\u2014\n\n  \u201cAs o\u2019er the lake, in evening\u2019s glow,\n    That temple threw its lengthening shade,\n  Upon the marble steps below,\n    There sate a fair Corinthian maid,\n  Gracefully o\u2019er some volume bending;\n    While, by her side, the youthful Sage\n  Held back her ringlets, lest, descending,\n    They should o\u2019er\u2010shadow all the page.\u201d\n\nBut it was for the evening of that day, that the richest of our luxuries\nwere reserved. Every part of the Garden was illuminated, with the most\nskilful variety of lustre; while over the Lake of the Temples were\nscattered wreaths of flowers, through which boats, filled with beautiful\nchildren, floated, as through a liquid parterre.\n\nBetween two of these boats a perpetual combat was maintained;\u2014their\nrespective commanders, two blooming youths, being habited to represent\nEros and Anteros; the former, the Celestial Love of the Platonists, and\nthe latter, that more earthly spirit, which usurps the name of Love among\nthe Epicureans. Throughout the evening their conflict was carried on with\nvarious success; the timid distance at which Eros kept from his more\nlively antagonist being his only safeguard against those darts of fire,\nwith showers of which the other continually assailed him, but which,\nluckily falling short of their mark upon the lake, only scorched the\nflowers upon which they fell, and were extinguished.\n\nIn another part of the gardens, on a wide verdant glade, lighted only by\nthe moon, an imitation of the torch\u2010race of the Panathen\u00e6a was performed,\nby young boys chosen for their fleetness, and arrayed with wings, like\nCupids; while, not far off, a group of seven nymphs, with each a star on\nher forehead, represented the movements of the planetary choir, and\nembodied the dream of Pythagoras into real motion and song.\n\nAt every turning some new enchantment broke upon the ear or eye.\nSometimes, from the depth of a grove, from which a fountain at the same\ntime issued, there came a strain of music, which, mingling with the murmur\nof the water, seemed like the voice of the spirit that presided over its\nflow;\u2014while sometimes the strain rose breathing from among flowers; and,\nagain, would appear to come suddenly from under ground, as if the foot had\njust touched some spring that set it in motion.\n\nIt seems strange that I should now dwell upon these minute descriptions;\nbut every thing connected with that memorable night\u2014even its long\u2010repented\nfollies\u2014must for ever live sacredly in my memory. The festival concluded\nwith a banquet, at which I, of course, presided; and, feeling myself to be\nthe ascendant spirit of the whole scene, gave life to all around me, and\nsaw my own happiness reflected in that of others.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. II.\n\n\nThe festival was over;\u2014the sounds of the song and dance had ceased, and I\nwas now left in those luxurious gardens, alone. Though so ardent and\nactive a votary of pleasure, I had, by nature, a disposition full of\nmelancholy;\u2014an imagination that presented sad thoughts, even in the midst\nof mirth and happiness, and threw the shadow of the future over the gayest\nillusions of the present. Melancholy was, indeed, twin\u2010born in my soul\nwith Passion; and, not even in the fullest fervour of the latter, were\nthey separated. From the first moment that I was conscious of thought and\nfeeling, the same dark thread had run across the web; and images of death\nand annihilation mingled themselves with the most smiling scenes through\nwhich my career of enjoyment led me. My very passion for pleasure but\ndeepened these gloomy fancies. For, shut out, as I was by my creed, from a\nfuture life, and having no hope beyond the narrow horizon of this, every\nminute of delight assumed a mournful preciousness in my eyes, and\npleasure, like the flower of the cemetery, grew but more luxuriant from\nthe neighbourhood of death.\n\nThis very night my triumph, my happiness had seemed complete. I had been\nthe presiding genius of that voluptuous scene. Both my ambition and my\nlove of pleasure had drunk deep of the cup for which they thirsted. Looked\nup to by the learned, and loved by the beautiful and the young, I had\nseen, in every eye that met mine, either the acknowledgment of triumphs\nalready won, or the promise of others, still brighter, that awaited me.\nYet, even in the midst of all this, the same dark thoughts had presented\nthemselves;\u2014the perishableness of myself and all around me every instant\nrecurred to my mind. Those hands I had prest\u2014those eyes, in which I had\nseen sparkling, a spirit of light and life that should never die\u2014those\nvoices, that had talked of eternal love\u2014all, all, I felt, were but a\nmockery of the moment, and would leave nothing eternal but the silence of\ntheir dust!\n\n  Oh, were it not for this sad voice,\n    Stealing amid our mirth to say,\n  That all, in which we most rejoice,\n    Ere night may be the earth\u2010worm\u2019s prey;\u2014\n  _But_ for this bitter\u2014only this\u2014\n  Full as the world is brimm\u2019d with bliss,\n  And capable as feels my soul\n  Of draining to its depth the whole,\n  I should turn earth to heaven, and be,\n  If bliss made gods, a deity!\n\nSuch was the description I gave of my own feelings, in one of those wild,\npassionate songs, to which this ferment of my spirits, between mirth and\nmelancholy, gave birth.\n\nSeldom had my heart more fully abandoned itself to such vague sadness than\nat the present moment, when, as I paced thoughtfully among the fading\nlights and flowers of the banquet, the echo of my own step was all that\nsounded, where so many gay forms had lately been revelling. The moon was\nstill up, the morning had not yet glimmered, and the calm glories of night\nstill rested on all around. Unconscious whither my pathway led, I wandered\nalong, till I, at length, found myself before that fair statue of Venus,\nwith which the chisel of Alcamenes had embellished our Garden;\u2014that image\nof deified woman, the only idol to which I had ever bent the knee. Leaning\nagainst the pedestal, I raised my eyes to heaven, and fixing them sadly\nand intently on the ever\u2010burning stars, as if I sought to read the\nmournful secret in their light, asked, wherefore was it that Man alone\nmust perish, while they, less wonderful, less glorious than he, lived on\nin light unchangeable and for ever!\u2014\u201cOh, that there were some spell, some\ntalisman,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cto make the spirit within us deathless as those\nstars, and open to its desires a career like theirs, burning and boundless\nthroughout all time!\u201d\n\nWhile I gave myself up to this train of thought, that lassitude which\nearthly pleasure, however sweet, leaves behind,\u2014as if to show how earthly\nit is,\u2014came drowsily over me, and I sunk at the base of the statue to\nsleep.\n\nEven in sleep, however, my fancy was still busy; and a dream, so vivid as\nto leave behind it the impression of reality, thus passed through my mind.\nI thought myself transported to a wide desert plain, where nothing seemed\nto breathe, or move, or live. The very sky above it looked pale and\nextinct, giving the idea, not of darkness, but of light that had died;\nand, had that region been the remains of some older world, left broken up\nand sunless, it could not have looked more dead and desolate. The only\nthing that bespoke life, in this melancholy waste, was a small moving\nspark, that at first glimmered in the distance, but, at length, slowly\napproached the spot where I stood. As it drew nearer, I could perceive\nthat its feeble gleam was from a taper in the hand of a pale venerable\nman, who now stood, like a messenger from the grave, before me. After a\nfew moments of awful silence, during which he looked at me with a sadness\nthat thrilled my very soul, he said,\u2014\u201cThou, who seekest eternal life, go\nunto the shores of the dark Nile\u2014go unto the shores of the dark Nile, and\nthou wilt find the eternal life thou seekest!\u201d\n\nNo sooner had he said these words than the death\u2010like hue of his cheek\nbrightened into a smile of more than human promise. The small torch that\nhe held sent forth a radiance, by which suddenly the whole surface of the\ndesert was illuminated, even to the far horizon\u2019s edge, along whose line\nwere now seen gardens, palaces, and spires, all bright and golden, like\nthe architecture of the clouds at sunset. Sweet music, too, was heard\nevery where, floating around, and, from all sides, such varieties of\nsplendour poured, that, with the excess both of harmony and of light, I\nwoke.\n\nThat infidels should be superstitious is an anomaly neither unusual nor\nstrange. A belief in superhuman agency seems natural and necessary to the\nmind; and, if not suffered to flow in the obvious channels, it will find a\nvent in some other. Hence, many who have doubted the existence of a God,\nhave yet implicitly placed themselves under the patronage of Fate or the\nstars. Much the same inconsistency I was conscious of in my own feelings.\nThough rejecting all belief in a Divine Providence, I had yet a faith in\ndreams, that all my philosophy could not conquer. Nor was experience\nwanting to confirm me in my delusion; for, by some of those accidental\ncoincidences, which make the fortune of soothsayers and prophets, dreams,\nmore than once, had been to me\n\n  Oracles, truer far than oak,\n  Or dove, or tripod, ever spoke.\n\nIt was not wonderful, therefore, that the vision of that night, touching,\nas it did, a chord so ready to vibrate, should have affected me with more\nthan ordinary power, and sunk deeper into my memory with every effort I\nmade to forget it. In vain did I mock at my own weakness;\u2014such self\u2010\nderision is seldom sincere. In vain did I pursue my accustomed pleasures.\nTheir zest was, as usual, for ever new; but still came the saddening\nconsciousness of mortality, and, with it, the recollection of this\nvisionary promise, to which my fancy, in defiance of my reason, still\nclung.\n\nSometimes indulging in reveries, that were little else than a continuation\nof my dream, I even contemplated the possible existence of some secret, by\nwhich youth might be, if not perpetuated, at least prolonged, and that\ndreadful vicinity of death, within whose circle love pines and pleasure\nsickens, might be for a while averted. \u201cWho knows,\u201d I would ask, \u201cbut that\nin Egypt, that land of wonders, where Mystery hath yet unfolded but half\nher treasures,\u2014where so many dark secrets of the antediluvian world still\nremain, undeciphered, upon the pillars of Seth\u2014who knows but some charm,\nsome amulet, may lie hid, whose discovery, as this phantom hath promised,\nbut waits my coming\u2014some compound of the same pure atoms, that scintillate\nin the eternal stars, and whose infusion into the frame of man might make\nhim, too, fadeless and immortal!\u201d\n\nThus did I fondly speculate, in those rambling moods, when the life of\nexcitement which I led, acting upon a warm heart and vivid fancy, produced\nan intoxication of spirit, during which I was not wholly myself. This\nbewilderment, too, was not a little increased by the constant struggle\nbetween my own natural feelings, and the cold, mortal creed of my sect, in\nendeavouring to escape from whose deadening bondage I but broke loose into\nthe realms of romance and fantasy.\n\nEven, however, in my calmest and soberest moments, that strange vision\nperpetually haunted me. In vain were all my efforts to chase it from my\nmind; and the deliberate conclusion to which I came at last, was, that\nwithout, at least, a visit to Egypt, I could not rest, nor, till convinced\nof my folly by disappointment, be reasonable. I, therefore, announced\nwithout delay to my associates of the Garden, the intention which I had\nformed to pay a visit to the land of Pyramids. To none of them did I dare\nto confess the vague, visionary impulse that actuated me. Knowledge was\nthe object that I alleged, while Pleasure was that for which they gave me\ncredit. The interests of the School, it was apprehended, would suffer by\nmy absence; and there were some tenderer ties, which had still more to\nfear from separation. But for the former inconvenience a temporary remedy\nwas provided; while the latter a skilful distribution of vows and sighs\nalleviated. Being furnished with recommendatory letters to all parts of\nEgypt, in the summer of the year 257, A.D. I set sail for Alexandria.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. III.\n\n\nTo one, who extracted such sweets from every moment on land, a sea\u2010voyage,\nhowever smooth and favourable, appeared the least agreeable mode of losing\ntime that could be devised. Often did my imagination, in passing some isle\nof those seas, people it with fair forms and kind hearts, to whom most\nwillingly, if I might, would I have paused to pay homage. But the wind\nblew direct towards the land of Mystery; and, still more, I heard a voice\nwithin me, whispering for ever \u201cOn.\u201d\n\nAs we approached the coast of Egypt, our course became less prosperous;\nand we had a specimen of the benevolence of the divinities of the Nile, in\nthe shape of a storm, or rather whirlwind, which had nearly sunk our\nvessel, and which, the Egyptians on board said, was the work of their God,\nTyphon. After a day and night of danger, during which we were driven out\nof our course to the eastward, some benigner influence prevailed above;\nand, at length, as the morning freshly broke, we saw the beautiful city of\nAlexandria rising from the sea, with its Palace of Kings, its portico of\nfour hundred columns, and the fair Pillar of Pillars, towering up to\nheaven in the midst.\n\nAfter passing in review this splendid vision, we shot rapidly round the\nRock of Pharos, and, in a few minutes, found ourselves in the harbour of\nEunostus. The sun had risen, but the light on the Great Tower of the Rock\nwas still burning; and there was a languor in the first waking movements\nof that voluptuous city\u2014whose houses and temples lay shining in silence\nround the harbour\u2014that sufficiently attested the festivities of the\npreceding night.\n\nWe were soon landed on the quay; and, as I walked, through a line of\npalaces and shrines, up the street which leads from the sea to the Gate of\nCanopus, fresh as I was from the contemplation of my own lovely Athens, I\nfelt a glow of admiration at the scene around me, which its novelty, even\nmore than its magnificence, inspired. Nor were the luxuries and delights,\nwhich such a city promised, among the least of the considerations on which\nmy fancy, at that moment, dwelt. On the contrary, every thing around\nseemed prophetic of future pleasure. The very forms of the architecture,\nto my Epicurean imagination, appeared to call up images of living grace;\nand even the dim seclusion of the temples and groves spoke only of tender\nmysteries to my mind. As the whole bright scene grew animated around me, I\nfelt that though Egypt might not enable me to lengthen life, she could\nteach the next best art,\u2014that of multiplying its enjoyments.\n\nThe population of Alexandria, at this period, consisted of the most motley\nmiscellany of nations, religions, and sects, that had ever been brought\ntogether in one city. Beside the school of the Grecian Platonist was seen\nthe oratory of the cabalistic Jew; while the church of the Christian\nstood, undisturbed, over the crypts of the Egyptian Hierophant. Here, the\nadorer of Fire, from the east, laughed at the superstition of the\nworshipper of cats, from the west. Here Christianity, too, unluckily, had\nlearned to emulate the vagaries of Paganism; and while, on one side, her\nOphite professor was seen kneeling down gravely before his serpent, on the\nother, a Nicosian was, as gravely, contending that there was no chance of\nsalvation out of the pale of the Greek alphabet. Still worse, the\nuncharitableness of Christian schism was already distinguishing itself\nwith equal vigour; and I heard of nothing, on my arrival, but the rancour\nand hate, with which the Greek and Latin churchmen persecuted each other,\nbecause, forsooth, the one fasted on the seventh day of the week, and the\nothers fasted upon the fourth and sixth!\n\nTo none of those religions or sects, however, except for purposes of\nridicule, did I pay much attention. I was now in the most luxurious city\nof the universe, and gave way, without reserve, to the seductions that\nsurrounded me. My reputation, as a philosopher and a man of pleasure, had\npreceded me; and Alexandria, the second Athens of the world, welcomed me\nas her own. My celebrity, indeed, was as a talisman, that opened hearts\nand doors at my approach. The usual noviciate of acquaintance was\ndispensed with in my favour, and not only intimacies, but loves and\nfriendships, ripened in my path, as rapidly as vegetation springs up where\nthe Nile has flowed. The dark beauty of the Egyptian women had a novelty\nin my eyes that enhanced its other charms; and that hue of the sun on\ntheir rounded cheeks was but an earnest of the ardour he had kindled in\ntheir hearts\u2014\n\n  Th\u2019 imbrowning of the fruit, that tells\n  How rich within the soul of sweetness dwells.\n\nSome weeks rolled on in such perpetual and ever\u2010changing pleasures, that\neven the melancholy voice in my heart, though it still spoke, was but\nseldom listened to, and soon died away in the sound of the siren songs\nthat surrounded me. At length, however, as the novelty of these scenes\nwore off, the same gloomy bodings began to mingle with all my joys; and an\nincident that occurred, during one of my gayest revels, conduced still\nmore to deepen their gloom.\n\nThe celebration of the annual festival of Serapis took place during my\nstay, and I was, more than once, induced to mingle with the gay\nmultitudes, that crowded to his shrine at Canopus on the occasion. Day and\nnight, while this festival lasted, the canal, which led from Alexandria to\nCanopus, was covered with boats full of pilgrims of both sexes, all\nhastening to avail themselves of this pious licence, which lent the zest\nof a religious sanction to pleasure, and gave a holiday to the passions of\nearth, in honour of heaven.\n\nI was returning, one lovely night, to Alexandria. The north wind, that\nwelcome visitor, freshened the air, while the banks, on either side, sent\nforth, from groves of orange and henna, the most delicious odours. As I\nhad left all the crowd behind me at Canopus, there was not a boat to be\nseen on the canal but my own; and I was just yielding to the thoughts\nwhich solitude at such an hour inspires, when my reveries were broken by\nthe sound of some female voices, coming, mingled with laughter and\nscreams, from the garden of a pavilion, that stood, brilliantly\nilluminated, upon the bank of the canal.\n\nOn rowing nearer, I perceived that both the mirth and the alarm had been\ncaused by the efforts of some playful girls to reach a hedge of jasmin\nwhich grew near the water, and in bending towards which they had nearly\nfallen into the stream. Hastening to proffer my assistance, I soon\nrecognised the voice of one of my fair Alexandrian friends, and, springing\non the bank, was surrounded by the whole group, who insisted on my joining\ntheir party in the pavilion, and flinging the tendrils of jasmin, which\nthey had just plucked, around me, led me, no unwilling captive, to the\nbanquet\u2010room.\n\nI found here an assemblage of the very flower of Alexandrian society. The\nunexpectedness of the meeting gave it an additional zest on both sides;\nand seldom had I felt more enlivened myself, or contributed more\nsuccessfully to circulate life among others.\n\nAmong the company were some Greek women, who, according to the fashion of\ntheir country, wore veils; but, as usual, rather to set off than conceal\ntheir beauty, some gleams of which were continually escaping from under\nthe cloud. There was, however, one female, who particularly attracted my\nattention, on whose head was a chaplet of dark\u2010coloured flowers, and who\nsat veiled and silent during the whole of the banquet. She took no share,\nI observed, in what was passing around: the viands and the wine went by\nher untouched, nor did a word that was spoken seem addressed to her ear.\nThis abstraction from a scene so sparkling with gaiety, though apparently\nunnoticed by any one but myself, struck me as mysterious and strange. I\ninquired of my fair neighbour the cause of it, but she looked grave and\nwas silent.\n\nIn the mean time, the lyre and the cup went round; and a young maid from\nAthens, as if inspired by the presence of her countryman, took her lute,\nand sung to it some of the songs of Greece, with a feeling that bore me\nback to the banks of the Ilissus, and, even in the bosom of present\npleasure, drew a sigh from my heart for that which had passed away. It was\ndaybreak ere our delighted party rose, and unwillingly re\u2010embarked to\nreturn to the city.\n\nScarcely were we afloat, when it was discovered that the lute of the young\nAthenian had been left behind; and, with my heart still full of its sweet\nsounds, I most readily sprung on shore to seek it. I hastened to the\nbanquet\u2010room, which was now dim and solitary, except that\u2014there, to my\nastonishment, still sat that silent figure, which had awakened my\ncuriosity so strongly during the night. A vague feeling of awe came over\nme, as I now slowly approached it. There was no motion, no sound of\nbreathing in that form;\u2014not a leaf of the dark chaplet on its brow\nstirred. By the light of a dying lamp which stood before the figure, I\nraised, with a hesitating hand, the veil, and saw\u2014what my fancy had\nalready anticipated\u2014that the shape underneath was lifeless, was a\nskeleton! Startled and shocked, I hurried back with the lute to the boat,\nand was almost as silent as that shape for the remainder of the voyage.\n\nThis custom among the Egyptians of placing a mummy, or skeleton, at the\nbanquet\u2010table, had been for some time disused, except at particular\nceremonies; and, even on such occasions, it had been the practice of the\nluxurious Alexandrians to disguise this memorial of mortality in the\nmanner just described. But to me, who was wholly unprepared for such a\nspectacle, it gave a shock from which my imagination did not speedily\nrecover. This silent and ghastly witness of mirth seemed to embody, as it\nwere, the shadow in my own heart. The features of the grave were now\nstamped on the idea that haunted me, and this picture of what I _was to\nbe_ mingled itself with the sunniest aspect of what I _was_.\n\nThe memory of the dream now recurred to me more livelily than ever. The\nbright assuring smile of that venerable Spirit, and his words, \u201cGo to the\nshores of the dark Nile, and thou wilt find the eternal life thou\nseekest,\u201d were for ever before my mind. But as yet, alas, I had done\nnothing towards realising this splendid promise. Alexandria was not\nEgypt;\u2014the very soil on which it stood was not in existence, when Thebes\nand Memphis already counted ages of glory.\n\n\u201cIt is beneath the Pyramids of Memphis,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cor in the mystic\nHalls of the Labyrinth, that I must seek those holy arcana of science, of\nwhich the antediluvian world has made Egypt its heir, and among\nwhich\u2014blest thought!\u2014the key to eternal life may lie.\u201d\n\nHaving formed my determination, I took leave of my many Alexandrian\nfriends, and departed for Memphis.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. IV.\n\n\nEgypt was the country, of all others, from that mixture of the melancholy\nand the voluptuous, which marked the character of her people, her\nreligion, and her scenery, to affect deeply a temperament and fancy like\nmine, and keep tremblingly alive the sensibilities of both. Wherever I\nturned, I saw the desert and the garden, mingling their bloom and\ndesolation together. I saw the love\u2010bower and the tomb standing side by\nside, and pleasure and death keeping hourly watch upon each other. In the\nvery luxury of the climate there was the same saddening influence. The\nmonotonous splendour of the days, the solemn radiance of the nights\u2014all\ntended to cherish that ardent melancholy, the offspring of passion and of\nthought, which had so long been the inmate of my soul.\n\nWhen I sailed from Alexandria, the inundation of the Nile was at its full.\nThe whole valley of Egypt lay covered by its flood; and, as I saw around\nme, in the light of the setting sun, shrines, palaces, and monuments,\nencircled by the waters, I could almost fancy that I beheld the sinking\nisland of Atalantis, on the last evening its temples were visible above\nthe wave. Such varieties, too, of animation as presented themselves on\nevery side!\u2014\n\n  While, far as sight can reach, beneath as clear\n  And blue a heaven as ever bless\u2019d this sphere,\n  Gardens, and pillar\u2019d streets, and porphyry domes,\n  And high\u2010built temples, fit to be the homes\n  Of mighty gods, and pyramids, whose hour\n  Outlasts all time, above the waters tower!\n\n  Then, too, the scenes of pomp and joy, that make\n  One theatre of this vast, peopled lake,\n  Where all that Love, Religion, Commerce gives\n  Of life and motion, ever moves and lives.\n  Here, up the steps of temples, from the wave\n  Ascending, in procession slow and grave,\n  Priests, in white garments, go, with sacred wands\n  And silver cymbals gleaming in their hands:\n  While, there, rich barks\u2014fresh from those sunny tracts\n  Far off, beyond the sounding cataracts\u2014\n  Glide with their precious lading to the sea,\n  Plumes of bright birds, rhinoceros\u2019 ivory,\n  Gems from the isle of Mer\u00f6e, and those grains\n  Of gold, wash\u2019d down by Abyssinian rains.\n\n  Here, where the waters wind into a bay\n  Shadowy and cool, some pilgrims, on their way\n  To Sa\u00efs or Bubastus, among beds\n  Of lotus\u2010flowers, that close above their heads,\n  Push their light barks, and hid, as in a bower,\n  Sing, talk, or sleep away the sultry hour;\n  While haply, not far off, beneath a bank\n  Of blossoming acacias, many a prank\n  Is play\u2019d in the cool current by a train\n  Of laughing nymphs, lovely as she, whose chain\n  Around two conquerors of the world was cast,\n  But, for a third too feeble, broke at last!\n\nEnchanted with the whole scene, I lingered on my voyage, visiting all\nthose luxurious and venerable places, whose names have been consecrated by\nthe wonder of ages. At Sa\u00efs I was present during her Festival of Lamps,\nand read, by the blaze of innumerable lights, those sublime words on the\ntemple of Neitha: \u201cI am all that has been, that is, and that will be, and\nno man hath ever lifted my veil.\u201d I wandered among the prostrate obelisks\nof Heliopolis, and saw, not without a sigh, the sun smiling over her\nruins, as if in mockery of the mass of perishable grandeur, that had once\ncalled itself, in its pride, \u201cThe City of the Sun.\u201d But to the Isle of the\nGolden Venus was my fondest pilgrimage;\u2014and as I explored its shades,\nwhere bowers are the only temples, I felt how far more fit to form the\nshrine of a Deity are the ever\u2010living stems of the garden and the grove,\nthan the most precious columns that the inanimate quarry can supply.\n\nEvery where new pleasures, new interests awaited me; and though\nMelancholy, as usual, stood always near, her shadow fell but half\u2010way over\nmy vagrant path, and left the rest more welcomely brilliant from the\ncontrast. To relate my various adventures, during this short voyage, would\nonly detain me from events, far, far more worthy of record. Amidst such\nendless variety of attractions, the great object of my journey was\nforgotten;\u2014the mysteries of this land of the sun were, to me, as much\nmysteries as ever, and I had as yet been initiated in nothing but its\npleasures.\n\nIt was not till that evening, when I first stood before the Pyramids of\nMemphis, and saw them towering aloft, like the watch\u2010towers of Time, from\nwhose summit, when he expires, he will look his last,\u2014it was not till this\nmoment that the great secret, of which I had dreamed, again rose, in all\nits inscrutable darkness, upon my thoughts. There was a solemnity in the\nsunshine that rested upon those monuments\u2014a stillness, as of reverence, in\nthe air around them, that stole, like the music of past times, into my\nheart. I thought what myriads of the wise, the beautiful, and the brave,\nhad sunk into dust since earth first beheld those wonders; and, in the\nsadness of my soul, I exclaimed,\u2014\u201cMust man alone, then, perish? must minds\nand hearts be annihilated, while pyramids endure? Death, Death, even on\nthese everlasting tablets,\u2014the only approach to immortality that kings\nthemselves could purchase,\u2014thou hast written our doom, saying, awfully and\nintelligibly, \u2018There is, for man, no eternal mansion, but the tomb!\u2019\u201d\n\nMy heart sunk at the thought; and, for the moment, I yielded to that\ndesolate feeling, which overspreads the soul that hath no light from the\nfuture. But again the buoyancy of my nature prevailed, and again, the\nwilling dupe of vain dreams, I deluded myself into the belief of all that\nI most wished, with that happy facility which makes imagination stand in\nplace of happiness. \u201cYes,\u201d I cried, \u201cimmortality _must_ be within man\u2019s\nreach; and, as wisdom alone is worthy of such a blessing, to the wise\nalone must the secret have been revealed. Deep, it is said, under yonder\npyramid, has for ages lain concealed the Table of Emerald, on which the\nThrice\u2010Great Hermes engraved, before the flood, the secret of Alchemy,\nthat gives gold at will. Why may not the mightier, the more god\u2010like\nsecret, that gives life at will, be recorded there also? It was by the\npower of gold, of endless gold, that the kings, who repose in those massy\nstructures, scooped earth to the centre, and raised quarries into the air,\nto provide themselves with tombs that might outstand the world. Who can\ntell but that the gift of immortality was also theirs? who knows but that\nthey themselves, triumphant over decay, still live\u2014those mansions, which\nwe call tombs, being rich and everlasting palaces, within whose depths,\nconcealed from this withering world, they still wander, with the few who\nare sharers of their gift, through a sunless, but illuminated, elysium of\ntheir own? Else, wherefore those structures? wherefore that subterraneous\nrealm, by which the whole valley of Egypt is undermined? Why, else, those\nlabyrinths, which none of earth hath ever beheld\u2014which none of heaven,\nexcept that God, with the finger on his hushed lip, hath trodden!\u201d\n\nWhile I indulged in these dreams, the sun, half sunk beneath the horizon,\nwas taking, calmly and gloriously, his leave of the Pyramids,\u2014as he had\ndone, evening after evening, for ages, till they had become familiar to\nhim as the earth itself. On the side turned to his ray they now presented\na front of dazzling whiteness, while, on the other, their great shadows,\nlengthening to the eastward, looked like the first steps of Night,\nhastening to envelope the hills of Araby in her shade.\n\nNo sooner had the last gleam of the sun disappeared, than, on every house\u2010\ntop in Memphis, gay, gilded banners were seen waving aloft, to proclaim\nhis setting,\u2014while a full burst of harmony pealed from all the temples\nalong the shores.\n\nStartled from my musing by these sounds, I at once recollected, that, on\nthat very evening, the great festival of the Moon was to be celebrated. On\na little island, half\u2010way over between the gardens of Memphis and the\neastern shore, stood the temple of that goddess,\n\n                 Whose beams\n  Bring the sweet time of night\u2010flowers and dreams.\n  _Not_ the cold Dian of the North, who chains\n  In vestal ice the current of young veins;\n  But she, who haunts the gay, Bubastian grove,\n  And owns she sees, from her bright heav\u2019n above,\n  Nothing on earth, to match that heav\u2019n, but love!\n\nThus did I exclaim, in the words of one of their own Egyptian poets, as,\nanticipating the various delights of the festival, I cast away from my\nmind all gloomy thoughts, and, hastening to my little bark, in which I now\nlived, like a Nile\u2010bird, on the waters, steered my course to the island\u2010\ntemple of the Moon.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 CHAP. V.\n\n\nThe rising of the Moon, slow and majestic, as if conscious of the honours\nthat awaited her upon earth, was welcomed with a loud acclaim from every\neminence, where multitudes stood watching for her first light. And seldom\nhad she risen upon a scene more beautiful. Memphis,\u2014still grand, though no\nlonger the unrivalled Memphis, that had borne away from Thebes the crown\nof supremacy, and worn it undisputed through so many centuries,\u2014now,\nsoftened by the moonlight that harmonised with her decline, shone forth\namong her lakes, her pyramids, and her shrines, like a dream of glory that\nwas soon to pass away. Ruin, even now, was but too visible around her. The\nsands of the Libyan desert gained upon her like a sea; and, among solitary\ncolumns and sphinxes, already half sunk from sight, Time seemed to stand\nwaiting, till all, that now flourished around, should fall beneath his\ndesolating hand, like the rest.\n\nOn the waters all was life and gaiety. As far as eye could reach, the\nlights of innumerable boats were seen, studding, like rubies, the surface\nof the stream. Vessels of all kinds,\u2014from the light coracle, built for\nshooting down the cataracts, to the large yacht that glides to the sound\nof flutes,\u2014all were afloat for this sacred festival, filled with crowds of\nthe young and the gay, not only from Memphis and Babylon, but from cities\nstill farther removed from the scene.\n\nAs I approached the island, I could see, glittering through the trees on\nthe bank, the lamps of the pilgrims hastening to the ceremony. Landing in\nthe direction which those lights pointed out, I soon joined the crowd;\nand, passing through a long alley of sphinxes, whose spangling marble\nshone out from the dark sycamores around them, in a short time reached the\ngrand vestibule of the temple, where I found the ceremonies of the evening\nalready commenced.\n\nIn this vast hall, which was surrounded by a double range of columns, and\nlay open over\u2010head to the stars of heaven, I saw a group of young maidens,\nmoving in a sort of measured step, between walk and dance, round a small\nshrine, upon which stood one of those sacred birds, that, on account of\nthe variegated colour of their wings, are dedicated to the moon. The\nvestibule was dimly lighted,\u2014there being but one lamp of naptha on each of\nthe great pillars that encircled it. But, having taken my station beside\none of those pillars, I had a distinct view of the young dancers, as in\nsuccession they passed me.\n\nTheir long, graceful drapery was as white as snow; and each wore loosely,\nbeneath the rounded bosom, a dark\u2010blue zone, or bandelet, studded, like\nthe skies at midnight, with little silver stars. Through their dark locks\nwas wreathed the white lily of the Nile,\u2014that flower being accounted as\nwelcome to the moon, as the golden blossoms of the bean\u2010flower are to the\nsun. As they passed under the lamp, a gleam of light flashed from their\nbosoms, which, I could perceive, was the reflection of a small mirror,\nthat, in the manner of the women of the East, each wore beneath her left\nshoulder.\n\nThere was no music to regulate their steps; but, as they gracefully went\nround the bird on the shrine, some, by the beat of the castanet, some, by\nthe shrill ring of the sistrum,\u2014which they held uplifted in the attitude\nof their own divine Isis,\u2014harmoniously timed the cadence of their feet;\nwhile others, at every step, shook a small chain of silver, whose sound,\nmingling with those of the castanets and sistrums, produced a wild, but\nnot an unpleasing harmony.\n\nThey seemed all lovely; but there was one\u2014whose face the light had not yet\nreached, so downcast she held it,\u2014who attracted, and, at length, riveted\nall my attention. I knew not why, but there was a something in those half\u2010\nseen features,\u2014a charm in the very shadow, that hung over their imagined\nbeauty,\u2014which took me more than all the out\u2010shining loveliness of her\ncompanions. So enchained was my fancy by this coy mystery, that her alone,\nof all the group, could I either see or think of\u2014her alone I watched, as,\nwith the same downcast brow, she glided round the altar, gently and\na\u00ebrially, as if her presence, like that of a spirit, was something to be\nfelt, not seen.\n\nSuddenly, while I gazed, the loud crash of a thousand cymbals was\nheard;\u2014the massy gates of the Temple flew open, as if by magic, and a\nflood of radiance from the illuminated aisle filled the whole vestibule;\nwhile, at the same instant, as if the light and the sounds were born\ntogether, a peal of rich harmony came mingling with the radiance.\n\nIt was then,\u2014by that light, which shone full upon the young maiden\u2019s\nfeatures, as, starting at the blaze, she raised her eyes to the portal,\nand, as suddenly, let fall their lids again,\u2014it was then I beheld, what\neven my own ardent imagination, in its most vivid dreams of beauty, had\nnever pictured. Not Psyche herself, when pausing on the threshold of\nheaven, while its first glories fell on her dazzled lids, could have\nlooked more beautiful, or blushed with a more innocent shame. Often as I\nhad felt the power of looks, none had ever entered into my soul so far. It\nwas a new feeling\u2014a new sense\u2014coming as suddenly as that radiance into the\nvestibule, and, at once, filling my whole being;\u2014and had that vision but\nlingered another moment before my eyes, I should have wholly forgotten who\nI was and where, and thrown myself, in prostrate adoration, at her feet.\n\nBut scarcely had that gush of harmony been heard, when the sacred bird,\nwhich had, till now, stood motionless as an image, expanded his wings, and\nflew into the Temple; while his graceful young worshippers, with a\nfleetness like his own, followed,\u2014and she, who had left a dream in my\nheart never to be forgotten, vanished with the rest. As she went rapidly\npast the pillar against which I leaned, the ivy that encircled it caught\nin her drapery, and disengaged some ornament which fell to the ground. It\nwas the small mirror which I had seen shining on her bosom. Hastily and\ntremulously I picked it up, and hurried to restore it;\u2014but she was already\nlost to my eyes in the crowd.\n\nIn vain I tried to follow;\u2014the aisles were already filled, and numbers of\neager pilgrims pressed towards the portal. But the servants of the Temple\nprevented all further entrance, and still, as I presented myself, their\nwhite wands barred the way. Perplexed and irritated amid that crowd of\nfaces, regarding all as enemies that impeded my progress, I stood on\ntiptoe, gazing into the busy aisles, and with a heart beating as I caught,\nfrom time to time, a glimpse of some spangled zone, or lotus wreath, which\nled me to fancy that I had discovered the object of my search. But it was\nall in vain;\u2014in every direction, files of sacred nymphs were moving, but\nnowhere could I see her, whom alone I sought.\n\nIn this state of breathless agitation did I stand for some\ntime,\u2014bewildered with the confusion of faces and lights, as well as with\nthe clouds of incense that rolled around me,\u2014till, fevered and impatient,\nI could endure it no longer. Forcing my way out of the vestibule into the\ncool air, I hurried back through the alley of sphinxes to the shore, and\nflung myself into my boat.\n\nThere is, to the north of Memphis, a solitary lake (which, at this season\nof the year, mingles with the rest of the waters,) upon whose shores\nstands the Necropolis, or City of the Dead\u2014a place of melancholy grandeur,\ncovered over with shrines and pyramids, where many a kingly head, proud\neven in death, has for ages awaited the resurrection of its glories.\nThrough a range of sepulchral grots underneath, the humbler denizens of\nthe tomb are deposited,\u2014looking out on each successive generation that\nvisits them, with the same face and features they wore centuries ago.\nEvery plant and tree, that is consecrated to death, from the asphodel\u2010\nflower to the mystic plantain, lends its sweetness or shadow to this place\nof tombs; and the only noise that disturbs its eternal calm, is the low\nhumming sound of the priests at prayer, when a new inhabitant is added to\nthe silent city.\n\nIt was towards this place of death that, in a mood of mind, as usual, half\nbright, half gloomy, I now, almost unconsciously, directed my bark. The\nform of the young Priestess was continually before me. That one bright\nlook of hers, the very memory of which was worth all the actual smiles of\nothers, never left my mind. Absorbed in such thoughts, I rowed on, scarce\nknowing whither I went, till, startled by finding myself within the shadow\nof the City of the Dead, I looked up, and saw, rising in succession before\nme, pyramid beyond pyramid, each towering more loftily than the\nother,\u2014while all were out\u2010topped in grandeur by one, upon whose summit the\nmoon seemed to rest, as on a pedestal.\n\nDrawing near to the shore, which was sufficiently elevated to raise this\ncity of monuments above the level of the inundation, I lifted my oar, and\nlet the boat rock idly on the water, while my thoughts, left equally\nwithout direction, fluctuated as idly. How various and vague were the\ndreams that then passed through my mind\u2014that bright vision of the temple\nmingling itself with all! Sometimes she stood before me, like an a\u00ebrial\nspirit, as pure as if that element of music and light, into which I had\nseen her vanish, was her only dwelling. Sometimes, animated with passion,\nand kindling into a creature of earth, she seemed to lean towards me with\nlooks of tenderness, which it were worth worlds, but for one instant, to\ninspire; and again\u2014as the dark fancies, that ever haunted me, recurred\u2014I\nsaw her cold, parched, and blackening, amid the gloom of those eternal\nsepulchres before me!\n\nTurning away, with a shudder, from the cemetery at this thought, I heard\nthe sound of an oar plying swiftly through the water, and, in a few\nmoments, saw, shooting past me towards the shore, a small boat in which\nsat two female figures, muffled up and veiled. Having landed them not far\nfrom the spot where I lay,\u2014concealed by the shadow of a monument on the\nbank,\u2014the boat again departed, with the same fleetness, over the flood.\n\nNever had the prospect of an adventure come more welcome than at this\nmoment, when my fancy was weaving such chains for my heart, as threatened\na bondage, of all others, the most difficult to break. To become enamoured\nthus of a creature of my own imagination, was the worst, because the most\nlasting, of follies. Reality alone gives a chance of dissolving such\nspells, and the idol I was now creating to myself must for ever remain\nideal. Any pursuit, therefore, that seemed likely to divert me from such\nthoughts\u2014to bring back my imagination to earth and reality, from the vague\nregion in which it was wandering, was a relief too seasonable not to be\nwelcomed with eagerness.\n\nI had watched the course which the two figures took, and, having hastily\nfastened my boat to the bank, stepped gently on shore, and, at a little\ndistance, followed them. The windings through which they led were\nintricate; but, by the bright light of the moon, I was enabled to keep\ntheir forms in view, as, with rapid step, they glided among the monuments.\nAt length, in the shade of a small pyramid, whose peak barely surmounted\nthe plane\u2010trees that grew nigh, they vanished from my sight. I hastened to\nthe spot, but there was not a sign of life around; and had my creed\nextended to another world, I might have fancied that these forms were\nspirits, sent from thence to mock me,\u2014so instantaneously they disappeared.\nI searched through the neighbouring grove, but all there was still as\ndeath. At length, in examining one of the sides of the pyramid, which, for\na few feet from the ground, was furnished with steps, I found, midway\nbetween peak and base, a part of the surface, which, though presenting an\nappearance of smoothness to the eye, gave to the touch, I thought,\nindications of a concealed opening.\n\nAfter a variety of efforts and experiments, I, at last, more by accident\nthan skill, pressed the spring that commanded this mysterious aperture. In\nan instant the portal slid aside, and disclosed a narrow stair\u2010way within,\nthe two or three first steps of which were discernible by the moonlight,\nwhile the rest were lost in utter darkness. Though it was difficult to\nconceive that the persons whom I had followed would have ventured to pass\nthrough this gloomy opening, yet to account for their disappearance\notherwise was still more difficult. At all events, my curiosity was now\ntoo eager in the chase to relinquish it;\u2014the spirit of adventure, once\nraised, could not be so easily laid. Accordingly, having sent up a gay\nprayer to that bliss\u2010loving Queen whose eye alone was upon me, I passed\nthrough the portal and descended into the pyramid.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. VI.\n\n\nAt the bottom of the stair\u2010way I found myself in a low, narrow passage,\nthrough which, without stooping almost to earth, it was impossible to\nproceed. Though leading through a multiplicity of dark windings, this way\nseemed but little to advance my progress,\u2014its course, I perceived, being\nchiefly circular, and gathering, at every turn, but a deeper intensity of\ndarkness.\n\n\u201cCan this,\u201d I thought, \u201cbe the sojourn of any thing human?\u201d\u2014and had\nscarcely asked myself the question, when the path opened into a long\ngallery, at the farthest end of which a gleam of light was visible. This\nwelcome glimmer appeared to come from some cell or alcove, in which the\nright\u2010hand wall of the gallery terminated, and, breathless with\nexpectation, I stole gently towards it.\n\nArrived at the end of the gallery, a scene presented itself to my eyes,\nfor which my fondest expectations of adventure could not have prepared me.\nThe place from which the light proceeded was a small chapel, of whose\ninterior, from the dark recess in which I stood, I had, unseen myself, a\nfull and distinct view. Over the walls of this oratory were painted some\nof those various symbols, by which the mystic wisdom of the Egyptians\nloves to shadow out the History of the Soul\u2014the winged globe with a\nserpent,\u2014the rays descending from above, like a glory, and the Theban\nbeetle, as he comes forth, after the waters have passed away, and the\nfirst sunbeam falls on his regenerated wings.\n\nIn the middle of the chapel stood a low altar of granite, on which lay a\nlifeless female form, enshrined within a case of crystal,\u2014as they preserve\ntheir dead in Ethiopia,\u2014and looking as freshly beautiful as if the soul\nhad but a few hours departed. Among the emblems of death, on the front of\nthe altar, were a slender lotus\u2010branch, broken in two, and a bird, just\nwinging its flight from the spray.\n\nTo these memorials of the dead, however, I but little attended; for there\nwas a living object there upon which my eyes were most intently fixed.\n\nThe lamp, by which the whole of the chapel was illuminated, was placed at\nthe head of the pale image in the shrine; and, between its light and me,\nstood a female form, bending over the monument, as if to gaze upon the\nsilent features within. The position in which this figure was placed,\nintercepting a strong light, afforded me, at first, but an imperfect and\nshadowy view of it. Yet even at this mere outline my heart beat high,\u2014and\nmemory, as it proved, had as much share in this feeling as imagination.\nFor, on the head changing its position, so as to let a gleam fall on the\nfeatures, I saw with a transport, which had almost led me to betray my\nlurking\u2010place, that it was she\u2014the young worshipper of Isis\u2014the same, the\nvery same, whom I had seen, brightening the holy place where she stood,\nand looking like an inhabitant of some purer world.\n\nThe movement, by which she had now given me an opportunity of recognising\nher, was made in raising from the shrine a small cross(2) of silver, which\nlay directly over the bosom of the lifeless figure. Bringing it close to\nher lips, she kissed it with a religious fervour; then, turning her eyes\nmournfully upwards, held them fixed with an inspired earnestness, as if,\nat that moment, in direct communion with heaven, they saw neither roof,\nnor any other earthly barrier between them and the skies.\n\nWhat a power hath innocence, whose very helplessness is its safeguard\u2014in\nwhose presence even Passion himself stands abashed, and turns worshipper\nat the altar which he came to despoil. She, who, but a short hour before,\nhad presented herself to my imagination, as something I could have risked\nimmortality to win\u2014she, whom gladly, from the floor of her own lighted\ntemple, in the very face of its proud ministers, I would have borne away\nin triumph, and defied all punishments, both human and sacred, to make her\nmine,\u2014she was now before me, thrown, as if by fate itself, into my\npower\u2014standing there, beautiful and alone, with nothing but her innocence\nfor her guard! Yet, no\u2014so touching was the purity of the whole scene, so\ncalm and august that protection which the dead seemed to extend over the\nliving, that every earthlier feeling was forgotten as I gazed, and love\nitself became exalted into reverence.\n\nEntranced, indeed, as I felt in witnessing such a scene, thus to enjoy it\nby stealth, seemed a wrong, a sacrilege\u2014and, rather than let her eyes meet\nthe flash of mine, or disturb, by a whisper, that sacred silence, in which\nYouth and Death held communion through Love, I would have let my heart\nbreak, without a murmur, where I stood. Gently, as if life depended upon\nevery movement, I stole away from that tranquil and holy scene\u2014leaving it\nstill tranquil and holy as I found it\u2014and, gliding back through the same\npassages and windings by which I had entered, regained the narrow stair\u2010\nway, and again ascended into light.\n\nThe sun had just risen, and, from the summit of the Arabian hills, was\npouring down his beams into that vast valley of waters,\u2014as if proud of the\nhomage that had been paid to his own Isis, now fading away in the superior\nlight of her Lord. My first impulse was to fly from this dangerous spot,\nand in new loves and pleasures seek forgetfulness of the scene which I had\nwitnessed. \u201cOnce out of the circle of this enchantment,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cI\nknow my own susceptibility to new impressions too well, to doubt that I\nshall soon break the spell that is around me.\u201d\n\nBut vain were my efforts and resolves. Even while I swore to fly, my steps\nwere still lingering round the pyramid\u2014my eyes still turned towards the\nsecret portal, which severed this enchantress from the world of the\nliving. Hour after hour did I wander through that City of Silence,\u2014till,\nalready, it was noon, and, under the sun\u2019s meridian eye, the mighty\npyramid of pyramids stood, like a great spirit, shadowless.\n\nAgain did those wild and passionate feelings, which had, for a moment,\nbeen subdued into reverence by her presence, return to kindle up my\nimagination and senses. I even reproached myself for the awe, that had\nheld me spell\u2010bound before her. \u201cWhat would my companions of the Garden\nsay, did they know that their chief,\u2014he, whose path Love had strewed with\ntrophies\u2014was now pining for a simple Egyptian girl, in whose presence he\nhad not dared to give utterance to a sigh, and who had vanquished the\nvictor, without even knowing her triumph!\u201d\n\nA blush came over my cheek at the humiliating thought, and my\ndetermination was fixed to await her coming. That she should be an inmate\nof those gloomy caverns seemed inconceivable; nor did there appear to be\nany issue from their depths but by the pyramid. Again, therefore, like a\nsentinel of the dead, did I pace up and down among these tombs,\ncontrasting, in many a mournful reflection, the burning fever within my\nown veins with the cold quiet of those who slept around.\n\nAt length the fierce glow of the sun over my head, and, still more, that\never restless agitation in my heart, were too much for even strength like\nmine to bear. Exhausted, I lay down at the base of the pyramid\u2014placing\nmyself directly under the portal, where, even should slumber surprise me,\nmy heart, if not my ear, might still be on the watch, and her footstep,\nlight as it was, could not fail to awake me.\n\nAfter many an ineffectual struggle against drowsiness, I at length sunk\ninto sleep\u2014but not into forgetfulness. The same image still haunted me, in\nevery variety of shape, with which imagination, assisted by memory, could\ninvest it. Now, like Ne\u00eftha, upon her throne at Sa\u00efs, she seemed to sit,\nwith the veil just raised from that brow, which mortal had never, till\nthen, beheld,\u2014and now, like the beautiful enchantress Rhodope, I saw her\nrise out of the pyramid in which she had dwelt for ages,\u2014\n\n  \u201cFair Rhodope, as story tells,\n  The bright, unearthly nymph, who dwells\n  Mid sunless gold and jewels hid,\n  The Lady of the Pyramid!\u201d\n\nSo long, amid that unbroken silence, did my sleep continue, that I found\nthe moon again shining above the horizon, when I awoke. All around was\nsilent and lifeless as before, nor did a print upon the herbage betray\nthat any foot had passed it since my own. Refreshed by rest, and with a\nfancy still more excited by the mystic wonders of which I had been\ndreaming, I now resolved to revisit the chapel in the pyramid, and put an\nend, if possible, to this illusion that haunted me.\n\nHaving learned from the experience of the preceding night, the\ninconvenience of encountering those labyrinths without a light, I now\nhastened to provide myself with a lamp from my boat. Tracking my way back\nwith some difficulty to the shore, I there found, not only my lamp, but\nsome dates and dried fruits, with a store of which, for my roving life\nupon the waters, I was always supplied,\u2014and which now, after so many hours\nof abstinence, were a welcome and necessary relief.\n\nThus prepared, I again ascended the pyramid, and was proceeding to search\nout the secret spring, when a loud, dismal noise was heard at a distance,\nto which all the echoes of the cemetery answered. It came, I knew, from\nthe Great Temple on the shore of the Lake, and was the shriek which its\ngates\u2014the Gates of Oblivion, as they were called\u2014sent forth from their\nhinges, in opening at night, to receive within their precincts the newly\u2010\nlanded dead.\n\nI had heard that sound before, and always with sadness; but, at this\nmoment, it thrilled through me, like a voice of ill omen, and I almost\ndoubted whether I should not abandon my enterprise. The hesitation,\nhowever, was but momentary;\u2014even while it passed through my mind, I had\ntouched the spring of the portal. In a few seconds more, I was again in\nthe passage beneath the pyramid, and being enabled by my lamp to follow\nthe windings of the way more rapidly, soon found myself at the door of the\nsmall chapel in the gallery.\n\nI entered, still awed, though there was now nothing living within. The\nyoung Priestess had fled\u2014had vanished, like a spirit, into the darkness.\nAll the rest was as I had left it on the preceding night. The lamp still\nstood burning upon the crystal shrine\u2014the cross lay where the hands of the\nyoung mourner had placed it, and the cold image beneath wore the same\ntranquil look, as if resigned to the solitude of death\u2014of all lone things\nthe loneliest. Remembering the lips that I had seen kiss that cross, and\nkindling with the recollection, I raised it passionately to my own;\u2014but,\nat the same moment, I fancied the dead eyes met mine, and, saddened in the\nmidst of my ardour, I replaced the cross upon the shrine.\n\nI had now lost all clue to the object of my pursuit, and was preparing\nslowly to retrace my steps to earth, with that gloomy satisfaction which\ncertainty, even when unwelcome, brings,\u2014when, as I held forth my lamp, on\nleaving the chapel, I could perceive that the gallery, instead of\nterminating here, took a sudden bend to the left, which had before eluded\nmy eye, and which gave a promise of leading still further into those\nrecesses. Re\u2010animated by this discovery, which opened a new source of hope\nto my heart, I cast but one hesitating look at my lamp, as if to ask\nwhether it would be faithful through the gloom I was about to encounter,\nand, without further thought, rushed eagerly forward.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. VII.\n\n\nThe path led, for some time, through the same sort of narrow windings as\nthose which I had encountered in descending the stair\u2010way; and at length\nopened, in a similar manner, into a straight and steep gallery, along each\nside of which stood, closely ranged and upright, a file of lifeless\nbodies, whose glassy eyes threw a preternatural glare upon me as I passed.\n\nArrived at the end of this gallery, I found my hopes a second time vanish.\nThe path, I perceived, extended no further. The only object that I could\ndiscern, by the glimmering of my lamp, which now, every minute, burned\nfainter and fainter, was the mouth of a huge well, that lay gaping before\nme\u2014a reservoir of darkness, black and unfathomable. It now crossed my\nmemory that I had heard of such wells, as being used occasionally for\npassages by the Priests. Leaning down, therefore, over the edge, I looked\nanxiously within, to discover whether it was possible to descend into the\nchasm; but the sides were hard and smooth as glass, being varnished all\nover with that dark pitch, which the Dead Sea throws out on its slimy\nshore.\n\nAfter a more attentive scrutiny, however, I observed, at the depth of a\nfew feet, a sort of iron step, projecting dimly from the side, and, below\nit, another, which, though hardly perceptible, was just sufficient to\nencourage an adventurous foot to the trial. Though all hope of tracing the\nyoung Priestess was at an end,\u2014it being impossible that female foot should\nhave dared this descent,\u2014yet, as I had so far engaged in the adventure,\nand there was, at least, a mystery to be unravelled, I determined, at all\nhazards, to explore the chasm. Placing my lamp (which was hollowed at the\nbottom, so as to fit like a helmet) firmly on my head, and having thus\nboth hands at liberty for exertion, I set my foot cautiously on the iron\nstep, and descended into the well.\n\nI found the same footing, at regular intervals, to a considerable depth;\nand had already counted near a hundred of these steps, when the ladder\naltogether ceased, and I could descend no farther. In vain did I stretch\ndown my foot in search of support\u2014the hard, slippery sides were all that\nit encountered. At length, stooping my head, so as to let the light fall\nbelow, I observed an opening or window directly above the step on which I\nstood, and, taking for granted that the way must lie in that direction,\nwith some little difficulty clambered through the aperture.\n\nI now found myself on a rude and narrow stair\u2010way, the steps of which were\ncut out of the living rock, and wound spirally downward in the same\ndirection as the well. Almost dizzy with the descent, which seemed as if\nit would never end, I, at last, reached the bottom, where a pair of massy\niron gates closed directly across my path, as if to forbid any further\nprogress. Massy, however, and gigantic as they were, I found, to my\nsurprise, that the hand of an infant might have opened them with ease\u2014so\nreadily did their great folds give way to my touch,\n\n  \u201cLight as a lime\u2010bush, that receives\n  Some wandering bird among its leaves.\u201d\n\nNo sooner, however, had I passed through, than the din, with which the\ngates clashed together again, was such as might have awakened death\nitself. It seemed as if every echo, throughout that vast, subterranean\nworld, from the Catacombs of Alexandria to Thebes\u2019s Valley of Kings, had\ncaught up and repeated the thundering sound.\n\nStartled, however, as I was, not even this supernatural clangour could\ndivert my attention from the light that now broke upon me\u2014soft, warm, and\nwelcome as are the stars of his own South to the mariner who has been\nwandering through the seas of the north. Looking for the source of this\nsplendour, I saw, through an archway opposite, a long illuminated alley,\nstretching away as far as the eye could reach, and fenced, on one side,\nwith thickets of odoriferous shrubs, while, along the other, extended a\nline of lofty arcades, from which the light, that filled the whole area,\nissued. As soon, too, as the din of the deep echoes had subsided, there\nstole gradually on my ear a strain of choral music, which appeared to\ncome, mellowed and sweetened in its passage, through many a spacious hall\nwithin those shining arcades. Among the voices I could distinguish some\nfemale tones, towering high and clear over all the rest, and forming the\nspire, as it were, into which the harmony tapered, as it rose.\n\nSo excited was my fancy by this sudden enchantment, that\u2014though never had\nI caught a sound from the young Egyptian\u2019s lips,\u2014I yet persuaded myself\nthat the voice I now heard was hers, sounding highest and most heavenly of\nall that choir, and calling to me, like a distant spirit out of its\nsphere. Animated by this thought, I flew forward to the archway, but\nfound, to my mortification, that it was guarded by a trellis\u2010work, whose\nbars, though invisible at a distance, resisted all my efforts to force\nthem.\n\nWhile occupied in these ineffectual struggles, I perceived, to the left of\nthe archway, a dark, cavernous opening, which seemed to lead in a\ndirection parallel to the lighted arcades. Notwithstanding my impatience,\nhowever, the aspect of this passage, as I looked shudderingly into it,\nchilled my very blood. It was not so much darkness, as a sort of livid and\nghastly twilight, from which a damp, like that of death\u2010vaults, exhaled,\nand through which, if my eyes did not deceive me, pale, phantom\u2010like\nshapes were, at that very moment, hovering.\n\nLooking anxiously round, to discover some less formidable outlet, I saw,\nover the vast folding\u2010gates through which I had just passed, a blue,\ntremulous flame, which, after playing for a few seconds over the dark\nground of the pediment, settled gradually into characters of light, and\nformed the following words:\u2014\n\n  You, who would try\n    Yon terrible track,\n  To live, or to die,\n    But ne\u2019er to look back\u2014\n\n  You, who aspire\n    To be purified there,\n  By the terrors of Fire,\n    Of Water, and Air,\u2014\n\n  If danger, and pain,\n    And death you despise,\n  On\u2014for again\n    Into light you shall rise;\n\n  Rise into light\n    With that Secret Divine,\n  Now shrouded from sight\n    By the Veils of the Shrine!\n\n  But if\u2014\u2014\n\nHere the letters faded away into a dead blank, more awfully intelligible\nthan the most eloquent words.\n\nA new hope now flashed across me. The dream of the Garden, which had been\nfor some time almost forgotten, returned to my mind. \u201cAm I then,\u201d I\nexclaimed, \u201cin the path to the promised mystery? and shall the great\nsecret of Eternal Life _indeed_ be mine?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d seemed to answer, out of the air, that spirit\u2010voice, which still\nwas heard crowning the choir with its single sweetness. I hailed the omen\nwith transport. Love and Immortality, both beckoning me onward\u2014who could\ngive a thought to fear, with two such bright hopes in view? Having invoked\nand blessed that unknown enchantress, whose steps had led me to this abode\nof mystery and knowledge, I plunged into the chasm.\n\nInstead of that vague, spectral twilight which had at first met my eye, I\nnow found, as I entered, a thick darkness, which, though far less\nhorrible, was, at this moment, still more disconcerting, as my lamp, which\nhad been, for some time, almost useless, was fast expiring. Resolved,\nhowever, to make the most of its last gleam, I hastened, with rapid step,\nthrough this gloomy region, which seemed wider and more open to the air\nthan any that I had yet passed. Nor was it long before the appearance of a\nbright blaze in the distance announced to me that my first great Trial was\nat hand. As I drew nearer, the flames burst high and wide on all\nsides;\u2014and the spectacle that now presented itself was such as might have\nappalled even hearts more habituated to dangers than mine.\n\nThere lay before me, extending completely across my path, a thicket, or\ngrove of the most combustible trees of Egypt\u2014tamarind, pine, and Arabian\nbalm. Around their stems and branches were coiled serpents of fire, which,\ntwisting themselves rapidly from bough to bough, spread their own wild\u2010\nfire as they went, and involved tree after tree in one general blaze. It\nwas, indeed, rapid as the burning of those reed\u2010beds of Ethiopia, whose\nlight brightens, at night, the distant cataracts of the Nile.\n\nThrough the middle of this blazing grove, I perceived, my only pathway\nlay. There was not a moment to be lost\u2014the conflagration gained rapidly on\neither side, and already the narrowing path between was strewed with fire.\nCasting away my now useless lamp, and holding my robe as some protection\nover my head, with a tremor, I own, in every limb, I ventured through the\nblaze.\n\nInstantly, as if my presence had given new life to the flames, a fresh\noutbreak of combustion arose on all sides. The trees clustered into a\nbower of fire above my head, while the serpents, that hung hissing from\nthe red branches, shot showers of sparkles down upon me, as I passed.\nNever were decision and activity more serviceable;\u2014one minute later, and I\nmust have perished. The narrow opening, of which I had so promptly availed\nmyself, closed instantly behind me; and, as I looked back, to contemplate\nthe ordeal which I had passed, I saw that the whole grove was already one\nmass of fire.\n\nHappy at having escaped this first trial, I plucked from one of the pine\u2010\ntrees a bough that was but just kindled, and, with this for my only guide,\nhastened breathlessly forward. I had gone but a few paces, when the path\nturned suddenly off,\u2014leading downwards, as I could see by the glimmer of\nmy brand, into a more confined space, through which a chilling air, as if\nfrom some neighbouring waters, blew over my brow. Nor had I proceeded very\nfar, when the sound of torrents fell on my ear,\u2014mingled, as I thought,\nfrom time to time, with shrill wailings, like the cries of persons in\ndanger or distress. At every step the noise of the dashing waters\nincreased, and I now perceived that I had entered an immense rocky cavern,\nthrough the middle of which, headlong as a winter\u2010torrent, the flood, to\nwhose roar I had been listening, rushed. Upon its surface, too, there\nfloated strange, spectre\u2010like shapes, which, as they went by, sent forth\nthose dismal shrieks, as if in fear of some precipice to whose brink they\nwere hurrying.\n\nI saw too plainly that my course must be across that torrent. It was\nfearful; but in courage lay my only hope. What awaited me on the opposite\nshore, I knew not; for all there was wrapped in impenetrable gloom, nor\ncould the weak light I held reach half so far. Dismissing, however, all\nthoughts but that of pressing onward, I sprung from the rock on which I\nstood into the flood,\u2014trusting that, with my right hand, I should be able\nto buffet the current, while, with the other, I might contrive to hold my\nbrand aloft, as long as a glimmer of it remained, to guide me to the\nshore.\n\nLong and formidable was the struggle I had to maintain. More than once,\noverpowered by the rush of the waters, I had almost given myself up, as\ndestined to follow those apparitions, that still passed me, hurrying, with\nmournful cries, to their doom in some invisible gulf before them.\n\nAt length, just as my strength was nearly exhausted, and the last remains\nof the pine\u2010branch were falling from my hand, I saw, outstretching towards\nme into the water, a light double balustrade, with a flight of steps\nbetween, ascending, almost perpendicularly, from the wave, till they\nseemed lost in a dense mass of clouds above. This glimpse\u2014for it was no\nmore, as my light expired in giving it\u2014lent new spring to my courage.\nHaving now both hands at liberty, so desperate were my efforts, that after\na few minutes\u2019 struggle, I felt my brow strike against the stairway, and,\nin an instant more, my feet were on the steps.\n\nRejoiced at my rescue from that perilous flood, though I knew not whither\nthe stairway led, I promptly ascended it. But this feeling of confidence\nwas of short duration. I had not mounted far, when, to my horror, I\nperceived, that each successive step, as my foot left it, broke away from\nbeneath me,\u2014leaving me in midair, with no other alternative than that of\nmounting still by the same momentary footing, and with the dreadful doubt\nwhether it would even endure my tread.\n\nAnd thus did I, for a few seconds, continue to ascend, with nothing\nbeneath me but that awful river, in which\u2014so tranquil it had become\u2014I\ncould hear the plash of the falling fragments, as every step in succession\ngave way under my feet. It was a trying moment, but still worse remained.\nI now found the balustrade, by which I had held during my ascent, and\nwhich had hitherto seemed firm, grow tremulous in my hand,\u2014while the step\nto which I was about to trust myself, tottered under my foot. Just then, a\nmomentary flash, as if of lightning, broke around, and I saw, hanging out\nof the clouds, within my reach, a huge brazen ring. Instinctively I\nstretched forth my arm to seize it, and, at the same instant, both\nbalustrade and steps gave way beneath me, and I was left swinging by my\nhands in the dark void. As if, too, this massy ring, which I grasped, was\nby some magic power linked with all the winds in heaven, no sooner had I\nseized it than, like the touching of a spring, it seemed to give loose to\nevery variety of gusts and tempests, that ever strewed the sea\u2010shore with\nwrecks or dead; and, as I swung about, the sport of this elemental strife,\neach new burst of its fury threatened to shiver me, like a storm\u2010sail, to\natoms!\n\nNor was even this the worst;\u2014still holding, I know not how, by the ring, I\nfelt myself caught up, as if by a thousand whirlwinds, and round and\nround, like a stone\u2010shot in a sling, whirled in the midst of all this\ndeafening chaos, till my brain grew dizzy, and my recollection confused,\nand I almost fancied myself on that wheel of the infernal world, whose\nrotations, it is said, Eternity alone can number!\n\nHuman strength could no longer sustain such a trial. I was on the point,\nat last, of loosing my hold, when suddenly the violence of the storm\nmoderated;\u2014my whirl through the air gradually ceased, and I felt the ring\nslowly descend with me, till\u2014happy as a shipwrecked mariner at the first\ntouch of land\u2014I found my feet once more upon firm ground.\n\nAt the same moment, a light of the most delicious softness filled the\nwhole air. Music, such as is heard in dreams, came floating at a distance;\nand, as my eyes gradually recovered their powers of vision, a scene of\nglory was revealed to them, almost too bright for imagination, and yet\nliving and real. As far as the sight could reach, enchanting gardens were\nseen, opening away through long tracts of light and verdure, and sparkling\nevery where with fountains, that circulated, like streams of life, among\nthe flowers. Not a charm was here wanting, that the imagination of poet or\nprophet, in their pictures of Elysium, ever yet dreamed or promised.\nVistas, opening into scenes of indistinct grandeur,\u2014streams, shining out\nat intervals, in their shadowy course,\u2014and labyrinths of flowers, leading,\nby mysterious windings, to green, spacious glades, full of splendour and\nrepose. Over all this, too, there fell a light, from some unseen source,\nresembling nothing that illumines our upper world\u2014a sort of golden\nmoonlight, mingling the warm radiance of day with the calm and melancholy\nlustre of night.\n\nNor were there wanting inhabitants for this sunless Paradise. Through all\nthe bright gardens were wandering, with the serene air and step of happy\nspirits, groups both of young and old, of venerable and of lovely forms,\nbearing, most of them, the Nile\u2019s white flowers on their heads, and\nbranches of the eternal palm in their hands; while, over the verdant turf,\nfair children and maidens went dancing to a\u00ebrial music, whose source was,\nlike that of the light, invisible, but which filled the whole air with its\nmystic sweetness.\n\nExhausted as I was by the trials I had undergone, no sooner did I perceive\nthose fair groups in the distance, than my weariness, both of frame and\nspirit, was forgotten. A thought crossed me that she, whom I sought, might\nbe among them; and, notwithstanding the awe, with which that unearthly\nscene inspired me, I was about to fly, on the instant, to ascertain my\nhope. But in the act of making the effort, I felt my robe gently pulled,\nand turning, beheld an aged man before me, whom, by the sacred hue of his\ngarb, I knew to be a Hierophant. Placing a branch of the consecrated palm\nin my hand, he said, in a solemn voice, \u201cAspirant of the Mysteries,\nwelcome!\u201d\u2014then, regarding me for a few seconds with grave attention,\nadded, in a tone of courteousness and interest, \u201cThe victory over the body\nhath been gained!\u2014Follow me, young Greek, to thy resting place.\u201d\n\nI obeyed in silence,\u2014and the Priest, turning away from this scene of\nsplendour, into a secluded path, where the light faded away, as we\nadvanced, conducted me to a small pavilion, by the side of a whispering\nstream, where the very spirit of slumber seemed to preside, and, pointing\nto a bed of dried poppy\u2010leaves within it, left me to repose.\n\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. VIII.\n\n\nThough the sight of that splendid scene which opened upon me, like a\nmomentary glimpse into another world, had, for an instant, re\u2010animated my\nstrength and spirit, so completely had fatigue overmastered my whole\nframe, that, even had the form of the young Priestess stood before me, my\nlimbs would have sunk in the effort to reach her. No sooner had I fallen\non my leafy couch, than sleep, like a sudden death, came over me; and I\nlay, for hours, in the deep, and motionless rest, which not even a shadow\nof life disturbs.\n\nOn awaking I saw, beside me, the same venerable personage, who had\nwelcomed me to this subterranean world on the preceding night. At the foot\nof my couch stood a statue, of Grecian workmanship, representing a boy,\nwith wings, seated gracefully on a lotus\u2010flower, and having the forefinger\nof his right hand pressed to his lips. This action, together with the\nglory round his brows, denoted, as I already knew, the God of Silence and\nLight.\n\nImpatient to know what further trials awaited me, I was about to speak,\nwhen the Priest exclaimed, anxiously, \u201cHush!\u201d\u2014and pointing to this statue\nat the foot of the couch, said\u2014\u201cLet the spell of that Spirit be on thy\nlips, young stranger, till the wisdom of thy instructors shall think fit\nto remove it. Not unaptly doth the same god preside over Silence and\nLight; since it is only out of the depth of contemplative silence, that\nthe great light of the soul, Truth, arises!\u201d\n\nLittle used to the language of dictation or instruction, I was now\npreparing to rise, when the priest again restrained me; and, at the same\nmoment, two boys, beautiful as the young Genii of the stars, entered the\npavilion. They were habited in long garments of the purest white, and bore\neach a small golden chalice in his hand. Advancing towards me, they\nstopped on opposite sides of the couch, and one of them, presenting to me\nhis chalice of gold, said, in a tone between singing and speaking,\u2014\n\n  \u201cDrink of this cup\u2014Osiris sips\n    The same in his halls below;\n  And the same he gives, to cool the lips\n    Of the Dead, who downward go.\n\n  \u201cDrink of this cup\u2014the water within\n    Is fresh from Lethe\u2019s stream;\n  \u2019Twill make the past with all its sin,\n    And all its pain and sorrows, seem\n    Like a long\u2010forgotten dream!\n\n  \u201cThe pleasure, whose charms\n    Are steep\u2019d in woe;\n  The knowledge, that harms\n    The soul to know;\n\n  \u201cThe hope, that, bright\n    As the lake of the waste,\n  Allures the sight,\n    But mocks the taste;\n\n  \u201cThe love, that binds\n    Its innocent wreath,\n  Where the serpent winds,\n    In venom, beneath;\u2014\n\n  \u201cAll that, of evil or false, by thee\n    Hath ever been known or seen,\n  Shall melt away in this cup, and be\n    Forgot, as it never had been!\u201d\n\nUnwilling to throw a slight on this strange ceremony, I leaned forward,\nwith all due gravity, and tasted the cup; which I had no sooner done than\nthe young cup\u2010bearer, on the other side, invited my attention, and, in his\nturn, presenting the chalice which he held, sung, with a voice still\nsweeter than that of his companion, the following strain:\u2014\n\n  \u201cDrink of this cup\u2014when Isis led\n    Her boy, of old, to the beaming sky,\n  She mingled a draught divine, and said\u2014\n    \u2018Drink of this cup, thou\u2019lt never die!\u2019\n\n  \u201cThus do I say and sing to thee,\n    Heir of that boundless heav\u2019n on high,\n  Though frail, and fall\u2019n, and lost thou be,\n    Drink of this cup, thou\u2019lt never die!\u201d\n\nMuch as I had endeavoured to keep my philosophy on its guard, against the\nillusions with which, I knew, this region abounded, the young cup\u2010bearer\nhad here touched a spring of imagination, over which, as has been seen, my\nphilosophy had but little controul. No sooner had the words, \u201cthou shalt\nnever die,\u201d struck on my ear, than the dream of the Garden came fully to\nmy mind, and, starting half\u2010way from the couch, I stretched forth my hands\nto the cup. Recollecting myself, however, and fearful of having betrayed\nto others a weakness only fit for my own secret indulgence, with an\naffected smile of indifference I sunk back again on my couch,\u2014while the\nyoung minstrel, but little interrupted by my movement, still continued his\nstrain, of which I heard but the concluding words:\u2014\n\n  \u201cAnd Memory, too, with her dreams shall come,\n    Dreams of a former, happier day,\n  When Heaven was still the Spirit\u2019s home,\n    And her wings had not yet fallen away;\n\n  \u201cGlimpses of glory, ne\u2019er forgot,\n    That tell, like gleams on a sunset sea,\n  What once hath been, what now is not,\n    But, oh, what again shall brightly be!\u201d\n\nThough the assurances of immortality, contained in these verses, would, at\nany other moment,\u2014vain and visionary as I thought them,\u2014have sent my fancy\nwandering into reveries of the future, the effort of self\u2010control I had\njust made enabled me to hear them with indifference.\n\nHaving gone through the form of tasting this second cup, I again looked\nanxiously to the Hierophant, to ascertain whether I might be permitted to\nrise. His assent having been given, the young pages brought to my couch a\nrobe and tunic, which, like their own, were of linen of the purest white;\nand having assisted to clothe me in this sacred garb, they then placed\nupon my head a chaplet of myrtle, in which the symbol of Initiation, a\ngolden grasshopper, was seen shining out from among the dark leaves.\n\nThough sleep had done much to refresh my frame, something more was still\nwanting to restore its strength; and it was not without a smile at my own\nreveries I reflected, how much more welcome than the young page\u2019s cup of\nimmortality was the unpretending, but real, repast now set before\nme,\u2014fresh fruits from the Isle of Gardens in the Nile, the delicate flesh\nof the desert antelope, and wine from the Vineyard of the Queens at\nAnthylla, fanned by one of the pages with a palm\u2010leaf, to keep it cool.\n\nHaving done justice to these dainties, it was with pleasure I heard the\nproposal of the Priest, that we should now walk forth together, and\nmeditate among the scenes without. I had not forgotten the elysium that\nwelcomed me last night,\u2014those enchanted gardens, that mysterious music,\nand light, and the fair forms I saw wandering about,\u2014as if, in the very\nmidst of happiness, still seeking it. The hope, which had then occurred to\nme, that, perhaps, among those sparkling groups, might be the maiden I\nsought, now returned with increased strength. I had little doubt that my\nguide was about to lead to the same Elysian scene, and that the form, so\nfit to inhabit it, would again appear before my eyes.\n\nBut far different was the region to which he conducted me; nor could the\nwhole world produce a scene more gloomy, or more strange. It had the\nappearance of a small, solitary valley, inclosed, on every side, by rocks,\nwhich seemed to rise, almost perpendicularly, to the very sky;\u2014for it was,\nindeed, the blue sky that I saw shining between their summits, and whose\nlight, dimmed and half lost, in its descent thus far, formed the\nmelancholy daylight of this nether world.(3) Down the side of these rocky\nwalls fell a cataract, whose source was upon earth, and on whose waters,\nas they rolled glassily over the edge above, a gleam of radiance rested,\nthat showed how brilliant was the sunshine they left. From thence,\ngradually darkening, and broken, in its long descent, by alternate chasms\nand projections, the stream fell, at last, in a pale and thin mist\u2014the\nphantom of what it had been on earth\u2014into a small lake that lay at the\nbase of the rock to receive it.\n\nNothing could be more bleak and saddening than the appearance of this\nlake. The usual ornaments of the waters of Egypt were not wanting: the\nlotus here uplifted her silvery flowers, and the crimson flamingo floated\nover the tide. But they were, neither of them, the same as in the upper\nworld;\u2014the flower had exchanged its whiteness for a livid hue, and the\nwings of the bird hung heavy and colourless. Every thing wore the same\nhalf\u2010living aspect; and the only sounds that disturbed the mournful\nstillness were the wailing cry of a heron among the sedges, and that din\nof the waters, in their midway struggle, above.\n\nThere was an unearthly sadness in the whole scene, of which no heart,\nhowever light, could resist the influence. Perceiving how I was affected\nby it, \u201cSuch scenes,\u201d said the Priest, \u201care best suited to that solemn\ncomplexion of mind, which becomes him who approaches the Great Secret of\nfuturity. Behold,\u201d\u2014and, in saying thus, he pointed to the opening over our\nheads, through which I could perceive a star or two twinkling in the\nheavens, though the sun had but a short time passed his meridian,\u2014\u201cas from\nthis gloomy depth we can see those stars, which are now invisible to the\ndwellers upon the bright earth, even so, to the sad and self\u2010humbled\nspirit, doth many a mystery of heaven reveal itself, of which they, who\nwalk in the light of the proud world, know not!\u201d\n\nHe now led me towards a rustic seat or alcove, beside which stood an image\nof that dark Deity, that God without a smile, who presides over the\nkingdom of the Dead.(4) The same livid and lifeless hue was upon his\nfeatures, that hung over every thing in this dim valley; and, with his\nright hand, he pointed directly downwards, to denote that his melancholy\nkingdom lay there. A plantain\u2014that favourite tree of the genii of\nDeath\u2014stood behind the statue, and spread its branches over the alcove, in\nwhich the Priest now, seating himself, signified that I should take my\nplace by his side.\n\nAfter a long pause, as if of thought and preparation,\u2014\u201cNobly,\u201d said he,\n\u201cyoung Greek, hast thou sustained the first trials of Initiation. What\nremains, though of vital import to the soul, brings with it neither pain\nnor peril to the body. Having now proved and chastened thy mortal frame,\nby the three ordeals of Fire, of Water, and of Air, the next task to which\nwe are called is the purification of thy spirit,\u2014the cleansing of that\ninward and immortal part, so as to render it fit for the reception of the\nlast luminous revealment, when the Veils of the Sanctuary shall be thrown\naside, and the Great Secret of Secrets unfolded to thee!\u2014Towards this\nobject, the primary and most essential step is, instruction. What the\nthree purifying elements, through which thou hast passed, have done for\nthy body, instruction will effect for\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cBut that lovely maiden!\u201d I exclaimed, bursting from my silence, having\nfallen, during his speech, into a deep revery, in which I had forgotten\nhim, myself, the Great Secret, every thing\u2014but her.\n\nStartled by this profane interruption, he cast a look of alarm towards the\nstatue, as if fearful lest the God should have heard my words. Then,\nturning to me, in a tone of mild solemnity, \u201cIt is but too plain,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cthat thoughts of the upper world, and of its vain delights, still\nengross thee too much, to let the lessons of Truth sink profitably into\nthy heart. A few hours of meditation amid this solemn scenery\u2014of that\nwholesome meditation, which purifies, by saddening\u2014may haply dispose thee\nto receive, with reverence, the holy and immortal knowledge that is in\nstore for thee. With this hope, I now leave thee to thy own thoughts, and\nto that God, before whose calm and mournful eye the vanities of the world,\nfrom which thou comest, wither!\u201d\n\nThus saying, he turned slowly away, and passing behind the statue, towards\nwhich he had pointed during the last sentence, suddenly, and as if by\nenchantment, disappeared from my sight.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. IX.\n\n\nBeing left to my own solitary thoughts, I had now leisure to reflect, with\ncoolness, on the inconveniences, if not dangers, of the situation into\nwhich my love of adventure had hurried me. However ready my imagination\nwas to kindle, in its own ideal sphere, I have ever found that, when\nbrought into contact with reality, it as suddenly cooled;\u2014like those\nmeteors, that seem stars in the air, but, the moment they touch earth, are\nextinguished. Such was the disenchantment that now succeeded to the dreams\nin which I had been indulging. As long as Fancy had the field of the\nfuture to herself, even immortality did not seem too distant a race for\nher. But when human instruments interposed, the illusion vanished. From\nmortal lips the promise of immortality seemed a mockery, and imagination\nherself had no wings that could carry beyond the grave.\n\nNor was this disappointment the only feeling that occupied me;\u2014the\nimprudence of the step, which I had taken, now appeared in its full extent\nbefore my eyes. I had thrown myself into the power of the most artful\npriesthood in the world, without a chance of being able to escape from\ntheir toils, or to resist any machinations with which they might beset me.\nIt seemed evident, from the state of preparation in which I had found all\nthat wonderful apparatus, by which the terrors and splendours of\nInitiation are produced, that my descent into the pyramid was not\nunexpected. Numerous, indeed, and active as were the spies of the Sacred\nCollege of Memphis, there could be but little doubt that all my movements,\nsince my arrival, had been tracked; and the many hours I had passed in\nwatching and wandering round the pyramid, betrayed a curiosity which might\nwell inspire these wily priests with the hope of drawing an Epicurean into\ntheir superstitious toils.\n\nI well knew their hatred to the sect of which I was Chief;\u2014that they\nconsidered the Epicureans as, next to the Christians, the most formidable\nenemies of their craft and power. \u201cHow thoughtless, then,\u201d I exclaimed,\n\u201cto have placed myself in a situation, where I am equally helpless against\ntheir fraud and violence, and must either seem to be the dupe of their\nimpostures, or submit to become the victim of their vengeance.\u201d Of these\nalternatives, bitter as they were, the latter appeared by far the more\nwelcome. I blushed even to think of the mockeries to which I already had\nyielded; and the prospect of being put through still further ceremonials,\nand of being tutored and preached to by hypocrites I despised, appeared to\nme, in my present temper, a trial of patience, to which the flames and the\nwhirlwinds I had already encountered were pastime.\n\nOften and impatiently did I look up, between those rocky walls, to the\nbright sky that appeared to rest upon their summits, as, round and round,\nthrough every part of the valley, I endeavoured to find an outlet from its\ngloomy precincts. But in vain I endeavoured;\u2014that rocky barrier, which\nseemed to end but in heaven, interposed itself every where. Neither did\nthe image of the young maiden, though constantly in my mind, now bring\nwith it the least consolation or hope. Of what avail was it that she,\nperhaps, was an inhabitant of this region, if I could neither see her\nsmile, nor catch the sound of her voice,\u2014if, while among preaching priests\nI wasted away my hours, her presence diffused its enchantment elsewhere.\n\nAt length exhausted, I lay down by the brink of the lake, and gave myself\nup to all the melancholy of my fancy. The pale semblance of daylight,\nwhich had hitherto shone around, grew, every moment, more dim and dismal.\nEven the rich gleam, at the summit of the cascade, had faded; and the\nsunshine, like the water, exhausted in its descent, had now dwindled into\na ghostly glimmer, far worse than darkness. The birds upon the lake, as if\nabout to die with the dying light, sunk down their heads; and, as I looked\nto the statue, the deepening shadows gave an expression to its mournful\nfeatures that chilled my very soul.\n\nThe thought of death, ever ready to present itself to my imagination, now\ncame, with a disheartening weight, such as I had never before felt. I\nalmost fancied myself already in the dark vestibule of the\ngrave,\u2014separated, for ever, from the world above, and with nothing but the\nblank of an eternal sleep before me. It had often, I knew, happened that\nthe visitants of this mysterious realm were, after their descent from\nearth, never seen or heard of;\u2014being condemned, for some failure in their\ninitiatory trials, to pine away their lives in the dark dungeons, with\nwhich, as well as with altars, this region abounded. Such, I shuddered to\nthink, might probably be my destiny; and so appalling was the thought,\nthat even the spirit of defiance died within me, and I was already giving\nmyself up to helplessness and despair.\n\nAt length, after some hours of this gloomy musing, I heard a rustling in\nthe sacred grove behind the statue; and, soon after, the sound of the\nPriest\u2019s voice\u2014more welcome than I had ever thought such voice could\nbe\u2014brought the assurance that I was not yet, at least, wholly abandoned.\nFinding his way to me through the gloom, he now led me to the same spot,\non which we had parted so many hours before; and, in a voice that retained\nno trace of displeasure, bespoke my attention, while he should reveal to\nme some of those divine truths, by whose infusion, he said, into the soul\nof man, its purification can alone be effected.\n\nThe valley had now become so wholly dark, that we could no longer discern\neach other\u2019s faces, as we sat. There was a melancholy in the voice of my\ninstructor that well accorded with the gloom around us; and, saddened and\nsubdued, I now listened with resignation, if not with interest, to those\nsublime, but, alas, I thought, vain tenets, which, with the warmth of a\nbeliever, this Hierophant expounded to me.\n\nHe spoke of the pre\u2010existence of the soul,\u2014of its abode, from all\neternity, in a place of bliss, of which all that we have most beautiful in\nour conceptions here is but a dim transcript, a clouded remembrance. In\nthe blue depths of ether, he said, lay that \u201cCountry of the Soul,\u201d\u2014its\nboundary alone visible in the line of milky light, that separates it, as\nby a barrier of stars, from the dark earth. \u201cOh, realm of purity! Home of\nthe yet unfallen Spirit!\u2014where, in the days of her primal innocence, she\nwandered, ere her beauty was soiled by the touch of earth, or her\nresplendent wings had withered away. Methinks,\u201d he cried, \u201cI see, at this\nmoment, those fields of radiance,\u2014I look back, through the mists of life,\ninto that luminous world, where the souls that have never lost their high,\nheavenly rank, still soar, without a stain, above the shadowless stars,\nand dwell together in infinite perfection and bliss!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke these words, a burst of pure, brilliant light, like a sudden\nopening of heaven, broke through the valley; and, as soon as my eyes were\nable to endure the splendour, such a vision of loveliness and glory opened\nupon them, as took even my sceptical spirit by surprise, and made it\nyield, at once, to the potency of the spell.\n\nSuspended, as I thought, in air, and occupying the whole of the opposite\nregion of the valley, there appeared an immense orb of light, within\nwhich, through a haze of radiance, I could see distinctly groups of young\nfemale spirits, who, in silent, but harmonious movement, like that of the\nstars, wound slowly through a variety of fanciful evolutions; and, as they\nlinked and unlinked each other\u2019s arms, formed a living labyrinth of beauty\nand grace. Though their feet seemed to tread along a field of light, they\nhad also wings, of the richest hue, which, like rainbows over waterfalls,\nwhen played with by the breeze, at every moment reflected a new variety of\nglory.\n\nAs I stood, gazing with wonder, the orb, with all its ethereal inmates,\ngradually receded into the dark void, lessening, as it went, and growing\nmore bright, as it lessened;\u2014till, at length, distant, apparently, as a\nretiring comet, this little world of Spirits, in one small point of\nintense radiance, shone its last and vanished. \u201cGo,\u201d exclaimed the rapt\nPriest, \u201cye happy souls, of whose dwelling a glimpse is thus given to our\neyes, go, wander, in your orb, through the boundless heaven, nor ever let\na thought of this perishable world come to mingle its dross with your\ndivine nature, or tempt you to that earthward fall, by which spirits, as\nbright, have been ruined!\u201d\n\nA pause ensued, during which, still under the influence of wonder, I sent\nmy fancy wandering after the inhabitants of that orb,\u2014almost wishing\nmyself credulous enough to believe in a heaven, of which creatures, so\nlike all that I most loved on earth, were inmates.\n\nAt length, the Priest, with a sigh at the contrast he was about to draw,\nbetween the happy spirits we had just seen and the fallen ones of earth,\nresumed his melancholy History of the Soul. Tracing it, from the first\nmoment of earthward desire, to its final eclipse in the shadows of this\nworld, he dwelt upon every stage of its darkening descent, with a pathos\nthat sent sadness into the very depths of the heart. The first downward\nlook of the Spirit towards earth\u2014the tremble of her wings on the edge of\nHeaven\u2014the giddy slide, at length, down that fatal descent, and the\nLeth\u00e6an cup, midway in the sky, of which when she has once tasted, Heaven\nis forgot,\u2014through all these gradations he mournfully traced her fall, to\nthe last stage of darkness, when, wholly immersed in this world, her\ncelestial nature is changed, she can no longer rise above earth, nor\nremembers her home, but by glimpses so vague, that, mistaking for hope\nwhat is only memory, she believes them to be a light from the Future, not\nthe Past.\n\n\u201cTo retrieve this ruin of the once blessed Soul\u2014to clear away, from around\nher, the clouds of earth, and, restoring her lost wings(5), facilitate\ntheir return to Heaven\u2014such,\u201d said the reverend man, \u201cis the great task of\nour religion, and such the triumph of those divine Mysteries, in which the\nlife and essence of our religion lie. However sunk and changed and clouded\nmay be the Spirit, as long as a single trace of her original light\nremains, there is yet hope that\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHere his voice was interrupted by a strain of mournful music, of which the\nlow, distant breathings had been, for some minutes, heard, but which now\ngained upon the ear too thrillingly to let it listen to any more earthly\nsound. A faint light, too, at that instant broke through the valley,\u2014and I\ncould perceive, not far from the spot where we sat, a female figure,\nveiled, and crouching to earth, as if subdued by sorrow, or under the\ninfluence of shame.\n\nThe light, by which I saw her, was from a pale, moon\u2010like meteor, which\nhad formed itself in the air as the music approached, and shed over the\nrocks and the lake a glimmer as cold as that by which the Dead, in their\nown realm, gaze on each other. The music, too, which appeared to rise\ndirectly out of the lake, and to come full of the breath of its dark\nwaters, spoke a despondency in every note which no language could\nexpress;\u2014and, as I listened to its tones, and looked upon that fallen\nSpirit, (for such, the holy man whispered, was the form before us,) so\nentirely did the illusion of the scene take possession of me, that, with\nbreathless anxiety, I waited the result.\n\nNor had I gazed long before that form rose slowly from its drooping\nposition;\u2014the air around it grew bright, and the pale meteor overhead\nassumed a more cheerful and living light. The veil, which had before\nshrouded the face of the figure, became gradually transparent, and the\nfeatures, one by one, disclosed themselves through it. Having tremblingly\nwatched the progress of the apparition, I now started from my seat, and\nhalf exclaimed, \u201cIt is she!\u201d In another minute, this veil had, like a thin\nmist, melted away, and the young Priestess of the Moon stood, for the\nthird time, revealed before my eyes.\n\nTo rush instantly towards her was my first impulse\u2014but the arm of the\nPriest held me firmly back. The fresh light, which had begun to flow in\nfrom all sides, collected itself in a glory round the spot where she\nstood. Instead of melancholy music, strains of the most exalted rapture\nwere heard; and the young maiden, buoyant as the inhabitants of the fairy\norb, amid a blaze of light like that which fell upon her in the Temple,\nascended into the air.\n\n\u201cStay, beautiful vision, stay!\u201d I exclaimed, as, breaking from the hold of\nthe Priest, I flung myself prostrate on the ground,\u2014the only mode by which\nI could express the admiration, even to worship, with which I was filled.\nBut the vanishing spirit heard me not:\u2014receding into the darkness, like\nthat orb, whose track she seemed to follow, her form lessened away, till\nshe was seen no more. Gazing, till the last luminous speck had\ndisappeared, I suffered myself unconsciously to be led away by my reverend\nguide, who, placing me once more on my bed of poppy\u2010leaves, left me to\nsuch repose as it was possible, after such a scene, to enjoy.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 CHAP. X.\n\n\nThe apparition with which I had been blessed in that Valley of Visions\u2014as\nthe place where I had witnessed these wonders was called\u2014brought back to\nmy heart all the hopes and fancies, in which I had indulged during my\ndescent from earth. I had now seen once more that matchless creature, who\nhad been my guiding star into this mysterious world; and that she was, in\nsome way, connected with the further revelations that awaited me, I saw no\nreason to doubt. There was a sublimity, too, in the doctrines of my\nreverend teacher, and even a hope in the promises of immortality held out\nby him, which, in spite of reason, won insensibly both upon my fancy and\nmy pride.\n\nThe Future, however, was now but of secondary consideration;\u2014the Present,\nand that deity of the Present, woman, were the objects that engrossed my\nwhole soul. For the sake, indeed, of such beings alone did I think\nimmortality desirable, nor, without them, would eternal life have appeared\nto me worth a prayer. To every further trial of my patience and faith, I\nnow made up my mind to submit without a murmur. Some propitious chance, I\nfondly persuaded myself, might yet bring me nearer to the object of my\nadoration, and enable me to address, as mortal woman, her who had hitherto\nbeen to me but as a vision, a shade.\n\nThe period of my probation, however, was nearly at an end. Both frame and\nspirit had now been tried; and, as the crowning test of the purification\nof the latter was that power of seeing into the world of spirits, with\nwhich, in the Valley of Visions, I had proved myself to be endowed, there\nremained now, to perfect my Initiation, but this one night more, when, in\nthe Temple of Isis, and in the presence of her unveiled image, the last\ngrand revelation of the Secret of Secrets was to open upon me.\n\nI passed the morning of this day in company with the same venerable\npersonage, who had, from the first, presided over the ceremonies of my\ninstruction; and who, to inspire me with due reverence for the power and\nmagnificence of his religion, now conducted me through the long range of\nilluminated galleries and shrines, that extend under the site upon which\nMemphis and the Pyramids stand, and form a counterpart under ground to\nthat mighty city of temples upon earth.\n\nHe then descended with me, still lower, into those winding crypts, where\nlay the Seven Tables of stone, found by Hermes in the valley of Hebron.\n\u201cOn these tables,\u201d said he, \u201cis written all the knowledge of the\nantediluvian race,\u2014the decrees of the stars from the beginning of time,\nthe annals of a still earlier world, and all the marvellous secrets, both\nof heaven and earth, which would have been,\n\n          \u201c_but_ for this key,\n  Lost in the Universal Sea.\u201d\n\nReturning to the region, from which we had descended, we next visited, in\nsuccession, a series of small shrines, representing the various objects of\nadoration through Egypt, and thus furnishing to the Priest an occasion for\nexplaining the mysterious nature of animal worship, and the refined\ndoctrines of theology that lay veiled under its forms. Every shrine was\nconsecrated to a particular faith, and contained a living image of the\ndeity which it adored. Beside the goat of Mendes, with his refulgent star\nupon his breast, I saw the crocodile, as presented to the eyes of its\nidolaters at Arsino\u00eb, with costly gems in its loathsome ears, and rich\nbracelets of gold encircling its feet. Here, floating through a tank in\nthe centre of a temple, the sacred carp of Lepidotum exhibited its silvery\nscales; while, there, the Isiac serpents trailed languidly over the altar,\nwith that movement which most inspires the hopes of their votaries. In one\nof the small chapels we found a beautiful child, feeding and watching over\nthose golden beetles, which are adored for their brightness, as emblems of\nthe sun; while, in another, stood a sacred ibis upon its pedestal, so\nlike, in plumage and attitude, to the bird of the young Priestess, that I\ncould gladly have knelt down and worshipped it for her sake.\n\nAfter visiting these various shrines, and listening to the reflections\nwhich they suggested, I was next led by my guide to the Great Hall of the\nZodiac, on whose ceiling, in bright and undying colours, was delineated\nthe map of the firmament, as it appeared at the first dawn of time. Here,\nin pointing out the track of the sun, among the spheres, he spoke\neloquently of the analogy that exists between moral and physical\ndarkness\u2014of the sympathy with which all spiritual creatures regard the\nsun, so as to sadden and droop when he sinks into his wintry hemisphere,\nand to rejoice when he resumes his own empire of light. Hence, the\nfestivals and hymns, with which most of the nations of the earth are wont\nto welcome the resurrection of his orb in spring, as an emblem and pledge\nof the re\u2010ascent of the soul to heaven. Hence, the songs of sorrow, the\nmournful ceremonies,\u2014like those Mysteries of the Night, upon the Lake of\nSa\u00efs,\u2014in which they brood over his autumnal descent into the shades, as a\ntype of the Spirit\u2019s fall into this world of death.\n\nIn discourses such as these the hours passed away; and though there was\nnothing in the light of this sunless region to mark to the eye the decline\nof day, my own feelings told me that the night drew near;\u2014nor, in spite of\nmy incredulity, could I refrain from a flutter of hope, as that promised\nmoment of revelation approached, when the Mystery of Mysteries was to be\nmade all my own. This consummation, however, was less near than I\nexpected. My patience had still further trials to encounter. It was\nnecessary, I now found, that I should keep watch, during the greater part\nof the night, in the Sanctuary of the Temple, alone and in darkness,\u2014and\nthus prepare myself, by meditation, for the awful moment, when the\nirradiation from behind the sacred Veils was to burst upon me.\n\nAt the appointed hour, we left the Hall of the Zodiac, and proceeded\nthrough a line of long marble galleries, where the lamps were more thinly\nscattered as we advanced, till, at length, we found ourselves in total\ndarkness. Here the Priest, taking me by the hand, and leading me down a\nflight of steps, into a place where the same deep gloom prevailed, said,\nwith a voice trembling, as if from excess of awe,\u2014\u201cThou art now in the\nSanctuary of our goddess, Isis, and the dark veils, that hang over her\nimage, are before thee!\u201d\n\nAfter exhorting me earnestly to that train of thought, which best accorded\nwith the spirit of the place where I stood, and, above all, to that full\nand unhesitating faith, with which alone, he said, the manifestation of\nsuch mysteries should be approached, the holy man took leave of me, and\nre\u2010ascended the steps;\u2014while, so spell\u2010bound did I feel by that deep\ndarkness, that the last sound of his footsteps died upon my ear, before I\nventured to stir a limb from the position in which he had left me.\n\nThe prospect of the long watch, now before me, was dreadful. Even danger\nitself, in an active form, would have been preferable to this sort of\nsafe, but dull, probation, by which patience was the only virtue put to\nthe proof. Having ascertained how far the space around me was free from\nobstacles, I endeavoured to beguile the time by pacing up and down within\nthose limits, till I became tired of the echoes of my own tread. Finding\nmy way, then, to what I felt to be a massive pillar, and, leaning wearily\nagainst it, I surrendered myself to a train of thoughts and feelings, far\ndifferent from those with which the Hierophant had hoped to inspire me.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d I again asked, \u201cif these priests possess the secret of life, why\nare they themselves the victims of death? why sink into the grave with the\ncup of immortality in their hands? But no, safe boasters, the eternity\nthey so lavishly promise is reserved for _another_, a future world\u2014that\nready resource of all priestly promises\u2014that depository of the airy\npledges of all creeds. Another world!\u2014alas, where does it lie? or, what\nspirit hath ever come to say that Life is there?\u201d\n\nThe conclusion, to which, half sadly, half passionately, I arrived, was\nthat, life being but a dream of the moment, never to come again, every\nbliss that is promised for hereafter should be secured by the wise man\nhere. And, as no heaven I had ever heard of from these visionary priests\nopened half such certainty of happiness as that smile which I beheld last\nnight,\u2014\u201cLet me,\u201d I exclaimed, impatiently, striking the massy pillar, till\nit rung, \u201clet me but make that beautiful Priestess my own, and I here\nwillingly exchange for her every chance of immortality, that the combined\nwisdom of Egypt\u2019s Twelve Temples can offer me!\u201d\n\nNo sooner had I uttered these words, than a tremendous peal, like that of\nthunder, rolled over the Sanctuary, and seemed to shake its walls. On\nevery side, too, a succession of blue, vivid flashes pierced, like so many\nlances of light, through the gloom, revealing to me, at intervals, the\nmighty dome in which I stood\u2014its ceiling of azure, studded with stars, its\ncolossal columns, towering aloft, and those dark, mysterious veils, which\nhung, in massy drapery, from the roof to the floor, and covered the rich\nglories of the Shrine under their folds.\n\nSo weary had I grown of my tedious watch, that this stormy and fitful\nillumination, during which the Sanctuary seemed to rock to its base, was\nby no means an unwelcome interruption of the monotony under which my\nimpatience suffered. After a short interval, however, the flashes\nceased;\u2014the sounds died away, like exhausted thunder, through the abyss,\nand darkness and silence, like that of the grave, succeeded.\n\nResting my back once more against the pillar, and fixing my eyes upon that\nside of the Sanctuary, from which the promised irradiation was to burst, I\nnow resolved to await the awful moment in patience. Resigned and\nimmovable, I had remained thus, for nearly another hour, when, suddenly,\nalong the edges of the mighty Veils, I perceived a thin rim of light, as\nif from some brilliant object under them;\u2014like that border which encircles\na cloud at sunset, when the radiance, from behind, is escaping at its\nedges.\n\nThis indication of concealed glories grew every instant more strong; till,\nat last, vividly marked as it was upon the darkness, the narrow fringe of\nlustre almost pained the eye, giving promise of a splendour too bright to\nbe endured. My expectations were now wound to the highest pitch, and all\nthe scepticism, into which I had been cooling down my mind, was forgotten.\nThe wonders that had been presented to me since my descent from earth\u2014that\nglimpse into Elysium on the first night of my coming\u2014those visitants from\nthe Land of Spirits in the mysterious valley,\u2014all led me to expect, in\nthis last and brightest revelation, such visions of glory and knowledge as\nmight transcend even fancy itself, nor leave a doubt that they belonged\nless to earth than heaven.\n\nWhile, with an imagination thus excited, I stood waiting the result, an\nincreased gush of light still more awakened my attention; and I saw, with\nan intenseness of interest, which made my heart beat aloud, one of the\ncorners of the mighty Veil slowly raised up. I now felt that the Great\nSecret\u2014whatever it might be\u2014was at hand. A vague hope even crossed my\nmind\u2014so wholly had imagination resumed her empire\u2014that the splendid\npromise of my dream was on the point of being realised!\n\nWith surprise, however, and\u2014for a moment\u2014with disappointment, I perceived,\nthat the massy corner of the Veil was but raised sufficiently to allow a\nfemale figure to emerge from under it,\u2014and then fell again, over its\nmystic splendours, as dark as before. By the strong light, too, that\nissued when the drapery was lifted, and illuminated the profile of the\nemerging figure, I either saw, or fancied that I saw, the same bright\nfeatures, that had already mocked me so often with their momentary charm,\nand seemed destined to haunt my heart as unavailingly as the fond, vain\ndream of Immortality itself.\n\nDazzled as I had been by that short gush of splendour, and distrusting\neven my senses, when under the influence of a fancy so excited, I had\nhardly time to question myself as to the reality of my impression, when I\nheard the sounds of light footsteps approaching me through the gloom. In a\nsecond or two more, the figure stopped before me, and, placing the end of\na riband gently in my hand, said, in a tremulous whisper, \u201cFollow, and be\nsilent.\u201d\n\nSo sudden and strange was the adventure, that, for a moment, I\nhesitated,\u2014fearful lest my eyes should have been deceived as to the object\nthey had seen. Casting a look towards the Veil, which seemed bursting with\nits luminous secret, I was almost doubting to which of the two chances I\nshould commit myself, when I felt the riband in my hand pulled softly at\nthe other extremity. This movement, at once, like a touch of magic,\ndecided me. Without further deliberation, I yielded to the silent summons,\nand following my guide, who was already at some distance before me, found\nmyself led up the same flight of marble steps, by which the Priest had\nconducted me into the Sanctuary. Arrived at their summit, I felt the pace\nof my conductress quicken, and, giving one more look to the Veiled Shrine,\nwhose glories we left burning ineffectually behind us, hastened into the\ngloom, full of confidence in the belief, that she, who now held the other\nend of that clue, was one whom I could follow devotedly through the world.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. XI.\n\n\nSo rapidly was I hurried along by my unseen conductress, full of wonder at\nthe speed with which she ventured through these labyrinths, that I had but\nlittle time to reflect upon the strangeness of the adventure to which I\nhad committed myself. My knowledge of the character of the priests, as\nwell as the fearful rumours that had reached me, of the fate that often\nattended unbelievers in their hands, waked a momentary suspicion of\ntreachery in my mind. But, when I recalled the face of my guide, as I had\nseen it in the chapel, with that divine look, the very memory of which\nbrought purity into the heart, this suspicion all vanished, and I felt\nshame at having harboured it but an instant.\n\nIn the mean while, our course continued uninterrupted, through windings\nmore capriciously intricate than any that I had yet passed, and whose\ndarkness seemed never to have been disturbed by a single glimmer. My\nconductress still continued at some distance before me, and the clue, to\nwhich I clung as if it were the thread of Destiny herself, was still kept,\nby her speed, at full stretch between us. At length, suddenly stopping,\nshe said, in a breathless whisper, \u201cSeat thyself here,\u201d and, at the same\nmoment, led me by the hand to a sort of low car, in which I lost not a\nmoment in placing myself, as desired, while the maiden, as promptly, took\nher seat by my side.\n\nA sudden click, like the touching of a spring, was then heard, and the\ncar,\u2014which, as I had felt in entering it, leaned half\u2010way over a steep\ndescent,\u2014on being loosed from its station, shot down, almost\nperpendicularly, into the darkness, with a rapidity which, at first,\nnearly deprived me of breath. The wheels slid smoothly and noiselessly in\ngrooves, and the impetus, which the car acquired in descending, was\nsufficient, I perceived, to carry it up an eminence that succeeded,\u2014from\nthe summit of which it again rushed down another declivity, even still\nmore long and precipitous than the former. In this manner we proceeded, by\nalternate falls and rises, till, at length, from the last and steepest\nelevation, the car descended upon a level of deep sand, where, after\nrunning for a few yards, it by degrees lost its motion and stopped.\n\nHere, the maiden alighting, again placed the riband in my hands,\u2014and again\nI followed her, though with more slowness and difficulty than before, as\nour way led up a flight of damp and time\u2010worn steps, whose ascent seemed\nto the weary and insecure foot interminable. Perceiving with what languor\nmy guide now advanced, I was on the point of making an effort to assist\nher progress, when the creak of an opening door above, and a faint gleam\nof light which, at the same moment, shone upon her figure, apprised me\nthat we were arrived within reach of sunshine.\n\nJoyfully I followed through this opening, and, by the dim light, could\ndiscern, that we were now in the sanctuary of a vast, ruined\ntemple,\u2014having entered by a passage under the lofty pedestal, upon which\nan image of the idol of the place once stood. The first movement of the\nmaiden, after replacing the portal under the pedestal, was, without even a\nlook towards me, to cast herself down on her knees, with her hands clasped\nand uplifted, as if for the purpose of thanksgiving or prayer. But she was\nunable to sustain herself in this position;\u2014her strength could hold out no\nlonger. Overcome by agitation and fatigue, she sunk senseless upon the\npavement.\n\nBewildered as I was, myself, by the events of the night, I stood for some\nminutes looking upon her in a state of helplessness and alarm. But,\nreminded, by my own feverish sensations, of the reviving effects of the\nair, I raised her gently in my arms, and crossing the corridor that\nsurrounded the sanctuary, found my way to the outer vestibule of the\ntemple. Here, shading her eyes from the sun, I placed her, reclining, upon\nthe steps, where the cool wind, then blowing freshly from the north, might\nplay, with free draught, between the pillars over her brow.\n\nIt was, indeed,\u2014I now saw, with certainty,\u2014the same beautiful and\nmysterious girl, who had been the cause of my descent into that\nsubterranean world, and who now, under such strange and unaccountable\ncircumstances, was my guide back again to the realms of day. I looked\nround, to discover where we were, and beheld such a scene of grandeur,\nas\u2014could my eyes have wandered to any other object from the pale form\nreclining at my side\u2014might well have won them to dwell on its splendid\nbeauties.\n\nI was now standing, I found, on the small island in the centre of Lake\nM\u0153ris; and that sanctuary, where we had emerged from darkness, formed part\nof the ruins of a temple, which (as I have since learned) was, in the\ngrander days of Memphis, a place of pilgrimage for worshippers from all\nparts of Egypt. The fair Lake, itself, out of whose waters once rose\npavilions, palaces, and even lofty pyramids, was still, though divested of\nmany of these wonders, a scene of interest and splendour such as the whole\nworld could not equal. While the shores still sparkled with mansions and\ntemples, that bore testimony to the luxury of a living race, the voice of\nthe Past, speaking out of unnumbered ruins, whose summits, here and there,\nrose blackly above the wave, told of times long fled and generations long\nswept away, before whose giant remains all the glory of the present stood\nhumbled. Over the southern bank of the Lake hung the dark relics of the\nLabyrinth;\u2014its twelve Royal Palaces, like the mansions of the Zodiac,\u2014its\nthundering portals and constellated halls, having left nothing behind but\na few frowning ruins, which, contrasted with the soft groves of olive and\nacacia around them, seemed to rebuke the luxuriant smiles of nature, and\nthrew a melancholy grandeur over the whole scene.\n\nThe effects of the air, in re\u2010animating the young Priestess, were less\nspeedy than I had expected;\u2014her eyes were still closed, and she remained\npale and insensible. Alarmed, I now rested her head (which had been, for\nsome time, supported by my arm,) against the base of a column, with my\ncloak for its pillow, while I hastened to procure some water from the\nLake. The temple stood high, and the descent to the shore was precipitous.\nBut, my Epicurean habits having but little impaired my activity, I soon\ndescended, with the lightness of a desert deer, to the bottom. Here,\nplucking from a lofty bean\u2010tree, whose flowers stood, shining like gold,\nabove the water, one of those large hollowed leaves that serve as cups for\nthe Hebes of the Nile, I filled it from the Lake, and hurried back with\nthe cool draught to the temple. It was not without some difficulty and\ndelay that I succeeded, in bearing my rustic chalice steadily up the\nsteep; more than once did an unlucky slip waste its contents, and as often\ndid I impatiently return to refill it.\n\nDuring this time, the young maiden was fast recovering her animation and\nconsciousness; and, at the moment when I appeared above the edge of the\nsteep, was just rising from the steps, with her hand pressed to her\nforehead, as if confusedly recalling the recollection of what had\noccurred. No sooner did she observe me, than a short cry of alarm broke\nfrom her lips. Looking anxiously round, as though she sought for\nprotection, and half audibly uttering the words, \u201cWhere is he?\u201d she made\nan effort, as I approached, to retreat into the temple.\n\nAlready, however, I was by her side, and taking her hand gently, as she\nturned away, \u201cWhom dost thou seek, fair Priestess?\u201d I asked,\u2014for the first\ntime breaking through the silence she had enjoined, and in a tone that\nmight have re\u2010assured the most timid spirit. But my words had no effect in\ncalming her apprehension. Trembling, and with her eyes still averted\ntowards the Temple, she continued in a voice of suppressed alarm,\u2014\u201cWhere\n_can_ he be?\u2014that venerable Athenian, that philosopher, who\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHere, here,\u201d I exclaimed, anxiously interrupting her,\u2014\u201cbehold him still\nby thy side\u2014the same, the very same who saw thee steal from under the\nlighted Veils of the Sanctuary, whom thou hast guided by a clue through\nthose labyrinths below, and who now but waits his command from those lips,\nto devote himself through life and death to thy service.\u201d As I spoke these\nwords, she turned slowly round, and looking timidly in my face, while her\nown burned with blushes, said, in a tone of doubt and wonder, \u201cThou!\u201d and\nhid her eyes in her hands.\n\nI knew not how to interpret a reception so unexpected. That some mistake\nor disappointment had occurred was evident; but so inexplicable did the\nwhole adventure appear, that it was in vain to think of unravelling any\npart of it. Weak and agitated, she now tottered to the steps of the\ntemple, and there seating herself, with her forehead against the cold\nmarble, seemed for some moments absorbed in the most anxious\nthought,\u2014while silent and watchful I waited her decision, with a prophetic\nfeeling, however, that my destiny would be henceforth linked with hers.\n\nThe inward struggle by which she was agitated, though violent, was not of\nlong continuance. Starting suddenly from her seat, with a look of terror\ntowards the temple, as if the fear of immediate pursuit had alone decided\nher, she pointed eagerly towards the East, and exclaimed, \u201cTo the Nile,\nwithout delay!\u201d\u2014clasping her hands, when she had spoken, with the most\nsuppliant fervour, as if to soften the abruptness of the mandate she had\ngiven, and appealing to me with a look that would have taught Stoics\ntenderness.\n\nI lost no time in obeying the welcome command. While a thousand wild hopes\nand wishes crowded upon my fancy, at the prospect which a voyage, under\nsuch auspices, presented, I descended rapidly to the shore, and hailing\none of the numerous boats that ply upon the Lake for hire, arranged\nspeedily for a passage down the canal to the Nile. Having learned, too,\nfrom the boatmen, a more easy path up the rock, I hastened back to the\nTemple for my fair charge; and without a word, a look, that could alarm,\neven by its kindness, or disturb that innocent confidence which she now\nplaced in me, led her down by the winding path to the boat.\n\nEvery thing looked smiling around us as we embarked. The morning was now\nin its first freshness, and the path of the breeze might be traced over\nthe Lake, wakening up its waters from their sleep of the night. The gay,\ngolden\u2010winged birds that haunt these shores, were, in every direction,\nskimming along the lake; while, with a graver consciousness of beauty, the\nswan and the pelican were seen dressing their white plumage in the mirror\nof its wave. To add to the animation of the scene, a sweet tinkling of\nmusical instruments came, at intervals, on the breeze, from boats at a\ndistance, employed thus early in pursuing the fish of these waters, that\nsuffer themselves to be decoyed into the nets by music.\n\nThe vessel which I selected for our voyage was one of those small\npleasure\u2010boats or yachts,\u2014so much in use among the luxurious navigators of\nthe Nile,\u2014in the centre of which rises a pavilion of cedar or cypress\nwood, gilded gorgeously, without, with religious emblems, and fitted up,\nwithin, for all the purposes of feasting and repose. To the door of this\npavilion I now led my companion, and, after a few words of\nkindness\u2014tempered with as much respectful reserve as the deep tenderness\nwhich I felt would admit of\u2014left her in solitude to court that restoring\nrest, which the agitation of her spirits but too much required.\n\nFor myself, though repose was hardly less necessary to me, the ferment in\nwhich my thoughts had been kept seemed to render it hopeless. Throwing\nmyself upon the deck, under an awning which the sailors had raised for me,\nI continued, for some hours, in a sort of vague day\u2010dream,\u2014sometimes\npassing in review the scenes of that subterranean drama, and sometimes,\nwith my eyes fixed in drowsy vacancy, receiving passively the impressions\nof the bright scenery through which we passed.\n\nThe banks of the canal were then luxuriantly wooded. Under the tufts of\nthe light and towering palm were seen the orange and the citron,\ninterlacing their boughs; while, here and there, huge tamarisks thickened\nthe shade, and, at the very edge of the bank, the willow of Babylon stood\nbending its graceful branches into the water. Occasionally, out of the\ndepth of these groves, there shone a small temple or pleasure\u2010\nhouse;\u2014while, now and then, an opening in their line of foliage allowed\nthe eye to wander over extensive fields, all covered with beds of those\npale, sweet roses, for which this district of Egypt is so celebrated.\n\nThe activity of the morning hour was visible every where. Flights of doves\nand lapwings were fluttering among the leaves, and the white heron, which\nhad roosted all night in some date\u2010tree, now stood sunning its wings upon\nthe green bank, or floated, like living silver, over the flood. The\nflowers, too, both of land and water, looked freshly awakened;\u2014and, most\nof all, the superb lotus, which had risen with the sun from the wave, and\nwas now holding up her chalice for a full draught of his light.\n\nSuch were the scenes that now passed before my eyes, and mingled with the\nreveries that floated through my mind, as our boat, with its high,\ncapacious sail, swept over the flood. Though the occurrences of the last\nfew days appeared to me one series of wonders, yet by far the most\nmiraculous wonder of all was, that she, whose first look had sent wild\u2010\nfire into my heart,\u2014whom I had thought of ever since with a restlessness\nof passion, that would have dared any thing on earth to obtain its\nobject,\u2014was now sleeping sacredly in that small pavilion, while guarding\nher, even from myself, I lay calmly at its threshold.\n\nMeanwhile, the sun had reached his meridian. The busy hum of the morning\nhad died gradually away, and all around was sleeping in the hot stillness\nof noon. The Nile\u2010goose, folding her splendid wings, was lying motionless\non the shadow of the sycamores in the water. Even the nimble lizards upon\nthe bank seemed to move more languidly, as the light fell upon their gold\nand azure hues. Overcome as I was with watching, and weary with thought,\nit was not long before I yielded to the becalming influence of the hour.\nLooking fixedly at the pavilion,\u2014as if once more to assure my senses, that\nI was not already in a dream, but that the young Egyptian was really\nthere,\u2014I felt my eyes close as I looked, and in a few minutes sunk into a\nprofound sleep.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. XII.\n\n\nIt was by the canal through which we now sailed, that, in the more\nprosperous days of Memphis, the commerce of Upper Egypt and Nubia was\ntransported to her magnificent Lake, and from thence, having paid tribute\nto the queen of cities, was poured out again, through the Nile, into the\nocean. The course of this canal to the river was not direct, but ascending\nin a south\u2010easterly direction towards the Sa\u00efd; and in calms, or with\nadverse winds, the passage was tedious. But as the breeze was now blowing\nfreshly from the north, there was every prospect of our reaching the river\nbefore night\u2010fall. Rapidly, too, as our galley swept along the flood, its\nmotion was so smooth as to be hardly felt; and the quiet gurgle of the\nwaters underneath, and the drowsy song of the boatman at the prow, alone\ndisturbed the deep silence that prevailed.\n\nThe sun, indeed, had nearly sunk behind the Libyan hills, before the\nsleep, in which these sounds lulled me, was broken; and the first object,\non which my eyes rested, in waking, was that fair young Priestess,\u2014seated\nunder a porch by which the door of the pavilion was shaded, and bending\nintently over a small volume that lay unrolled on her lap.\n\nHer face was but half turned towards me, and as, once or twice, she raised\nher eyes to the warm sky, whose light fell, softened through the trellis,\nover her cheek, I found every feeling of reverence, with which she had\ninspired me in the chapel, return. There was even a purer and holier charm\naround her countenance, thus seen by the natural light of day, than in\nthose dim and unhallowed regions below. She could now, too, look direct to\nthe glorious sky, and that heaven and her eyes, so worthy of each other,\nmet.\n\nAfter contemplating her for a few moments, with little less than\nadoration, I rose gently from my resting\u2010place, and approached the\npavilion. But the mere movement had startled her from her devotion, and,\nblushing and confused, she covered the volume with the folds of her robe.\n\nIn the art of winning upon female confidence, I had long been schooled;\nand, now that to the lessons of gallantry the inspiration of love was\nadded, my ambition to please and to interest could hardly, it may be\nsupposed, fail of success. I soon found, however, how much less fluent is\nthe heart than the fancy, and how very distinct are the operations of\nmaking love and feeling it. In the few words of greeting now exchanged\nbetween us, it was evident that the gay, the enterprising Epicurean was\nlittle less embarrassed than the secluded Priestess;\u2014and, after one or two\nineffectual efforts to bring our voices acquainted with each other, the\neyes of both turned bashfully away, and we relapsed into silence.\n\nFrom this situation\u2014the result of timidity on one side, and of a feeling\naltogether new, on the other\u2014we were, at length, after an interval of\nestrangement, relieved, by the boatmen announcing that the Nile was in\nsight. The countenance of the young Egyptian brightened at this\nintelligence; and the smile with which I congratulated her on the speed of\nour voyage was answered by another, so full of gratitude, that already an\ninstinctive sympathy seemed established between us.\n\nWe were now on the point of entering that sacred river, of whose sweet\nwaters the exile drinks in his dreams,\u2014for a draught of whose flood the\ndaughters of the Ptolemies, when wedded to foreign kings, sighed in the\nmidst of their splendour. As our boat, with slackened sail, glided into\nthe current, an enquiry from the boatmen, whether they should anchor for\nthe night in the Nile, first reminded me of the ignorance, in which I\nstill remained, with respect to either the motive or destination of our\nvoyage. Embarrassed by their question I directed my eyes towards the\nPriestess, whom I saw waiting for my answer with a look of anxiety, which\nthis silent reference to her wishes at once dispelled. Eagerly unfolding\nthe volume with which I had seen her occupied, she took from its folds a\nsmall leaf of papyrus, on which there appeared to be some faint lines of\ndrawing, and after thoughtfully looking upon it, herself, for a moment,\nplaced it, with an agitated hand, in mine.\n\nIn the mean time, the boatmen had taken in their sail, and the yacht drove\nslowly down the river with the current, while, by a light which had been\nkindled at sunset on the deck, I stood examining the leaf that the\nPriestess had given me,\u2014her dark eyes fixed anxiously on my countenance\nall the while. The lines traced upon the papyrus were so faint as to be\nalmost invisible, and I was for some time at a loss to divine their\nimport. At length, I could perceive that they were the outlines, or\nmap\u2014traced slightly and unsteadily with a Memphian reed\u2014of a part of that\nmountainous ridge by which Upper Egypt is bounded to the east, together\nwith the names, or rather emblems, of the chief towns in the\nneighbourhood.\n\nIt was thither, I could not doubt, that the young Priestess wished to\npursue her course. Without a moment\u2019s delay, therefore, I gave orders to\nthe boatmen to set our yacht before the wind and ascend the current. My\ncommand was promptly obeyed: the white sail again rose into the region of\nthe breeze, and the satisfaction that beamed in every feature of the fair\nEgyptian showed that the quickness with which I had obeyed her wishes was\nnot unfelt by her. The moon had now risen; and though the current was\nagainst us, the Etesian wind of the season blew strongly up the river, and\nwe were soon floating before it, through the rich plains and groves of the\nSa\u00efd.\n\nThe love, with which this simple girl had inspired me, was\u2014possibly from\nthe mystic scenes and situations in which I had seen her\u2014not unmingled\nwith a tinge of superstitious awe, under the influence of which I felt the\nbuoyancy of my spirit checked. The few words that had passed between us on\nthe subject of our route had somewhat loosened this spell; and what I\nwanted of vivacity and confidence was more than made up by the tone of\ndeep sensibility which love had awakened in their place.\n\nWe had not proceeded far before the glittering of lights at a distance,\nand the shooting up of fireworks, at intervals, into the air, apprised us\nthat we were approaching one of those night\u2010fairs, or marts, which it is\nthe custom, at this season, to hold upon the Nile. To me the scene was\nfamiliar; but to my young companion it was evidently a new world; and the\nmixture of alarm and delight with which she gazed, from under her veil,\nupon the busy scene into which we now sailed, gave an air of innocence to\nher beauty, which still more heightened its every charm.\n\nIt was one of the widest parts of the river; and the whole surface, from\none bank to the other, was covered with boats. Along the banks of a green\nisland, in the middle of the stream, lay anchored the galleys of the\nprincipal traders,\u2014large floating bazaars, bearing each the name of its\nowner, emblazoned in letters of flame, upon the stern. Over their decks\nwere spread out, in gay confusion, the products of the loom and needle of\nEgypt,\u2014rich carpets of Memphis, and those variegated veils, for which the\nfemale embroiderers of the Nile are so celebrated, and to which the name\nof Cleopatra lends a traditional value. In each of the other galleys was\nexhibited some branch of Egyptian workmanship,\u2014vases of the fragrant\nporcelain of On,\u2014cups of that frail crystal, whose hues change like those\nof the pigeon\u2019s plumage,\u2014enamelled amulets graven with the head of Anubis,\nand necklaces and bracelets of the black beans of Abyssinia.\n\nWhile Commerce thus displayed her luxuries in one quarter, in every other\ndirection Pleasure, multiplied into her thousand shapes, swarmed over the\nwaters. Nor was the festivity confined to the river only. All along the\nbanks of the island and on the shores, lighted up mansions were seen\nthrough the trees, from which sounds of music and merriment came. In some\nof the boats were bands of minstrels, who, from time to time, answered\neach other, like echoes, across the wave; and the notes of the lyre, the\nflageolet, and the sweet lotus\u2010wood flute, were heard, in the pauses of\nrevelry, dying along the waters.\n\nMeanwhile, from other boats stationed in the least lighted places, the\nworkers of fire sent forth their wonders into the air. Bursting out from\ntime to time, as if in the very exuberance of joy, these sallies of flame\nseemed to reach the sky, and there breaking into a shower of sparkles,\nshed such a splendour round, as brightened even the white Arabian\nhills,\u2014making them shine like the brow of Mount Atlas at night, when the\nfire from his own bosom is playing around its snows.\n\nThe opportunity which this luxurious mart afforded us, of providing\nourselves with other and less remarkable habiliments than those in which\nwe had escaped from that nether world, was too seasonable not to be gladly\ntaken advantage of by both. For myself, the strange mystic garb that I\nwore was sufficiently concealed by my Grecian mantle, which I had luckily\nthrown round me on the night of my watch. But the thin veil of my\ncompanion was a far less efficient disguise. She had, indeed, flung away\nthe golden beetles from her hair; but the sacred robe of her order was\nstill too visible, and the stars of the bandelet shone brightly through\nher veil.\n\nMost gladly, therefore, did she avail herself of this opportunity of a\nchange; and, as she took from a casket\u2014which, with the volume I had seen\nher reading, appeared to be her only treasure\u2014a small jewel, to exchange\nfor the simple garments she had chosen, there fell out, at the same time,\nthe very cross of silver, which I had seen her kiss, as may be remembered,\nin the monumental chapel, and which was afterwards pressed to my own lips.\nThis link (for such it appeared to my imagination) between us, now revived\nin my heart all the burning feelings of that moment;\u2014and, had I not\nabruptly turned away, my agitation would, but too plainly, have betrayed\nitself.\n\nThe object, for which we had delayed in this gay scene, being\naccomplished, the sail was again spread, and we proceeded on our course up\nthe river. The sounds and the lights we left behind died gradually away,\nand we now floated along in moonlight and silence once more. Sweet dews,\nworthy of being called \u201cthe tears of Isis,\u201d fell through the air, and\nevery plant and flower sent its fragrance to meet them. The wind, just\nstrong enough to bear us smoothly against the current, scarcely stirred\nthe shadow of the tamarisks on the water. As the inhabitants from all\nquarters were collected at the night\u2010fair, the Nile was more than usually\nstill and solitary. Such a silence, indeed, prevailed, that, as we glided\nnear the shore, we could hear the rustling of the acacias, as the\nchameleons ran up their stems. It was, altogether, a night such as only\nthe clime of Egypt can boast, when every thing lies lulled in that sort of\nbright tranquillity, which, we may imagine, shines over the sleep of those\nhappy spirits, who are supposed to rest in the Valley of the Moon, on\ntheir way to heaven.\n\nBy such a light, and at such an hour, seated, side by side, on the deck of\nthat bark, did we pursue our course up the lonely Nile\u2014each a mystery to\nthe other\u2014our thoughts, our objects, our very names a secret;\u2014separated,\ntoo, till now, by destinies so different, the one, a gay voluptuary of the\nGarden of Athens, the other, a secluded Priestess of the Temples of\nMemphis;\u2014and the only relation yet established between us being that\ndangerous one of love, passionate love, on one side, and the most feminine\nand confiding dependence on the other.\n\nThe passing adventure of the night\u2010fair had not only dispelled still more\nour mutual reserve, but had supplied us with a subject on which we could\nconverse without embarrassment. From this topic I took care to lead on,\nwithout interruption, to others,\u2014fearful lest our former silence should\nreturn, and the music of her voice again be lost to me. It was, indeed,\nonly by thus indirectly unburdening my heart that I was enabled to refrain\nfrom the full utterance of all I thought and felt; and the restless\nrapidity with which I flew from subject to subject was but an effort to\nescape from the only one in which my heart was interested.\n\n\u201cHow bright and happy,\u201d said I,\u2014pointing up to Sothis, the fair Star of\nthe Waters, which was just then sparkling brilliantly over our heads,\u2014\u201cHow\nbright and happy this world ought to be, if\u2014as your Egyptian sages\nassert\u2014yon pure and beautiful luminary was its birth\u2010star!\u201d Then, still\nleaning back, and letting my eyes wander over the firmament, as if seeking\nto disengage them from the fascination which they dreaded\u2014\u201cTo the study (I\nsaid), for ages, of skies like this, may the pensive and mystic character\nof your nation be traced. That mixture of pride and melancholy which\nnaturally arises, at the sight of those eternal lights shining out of\ndarkness;\u2014that sublime, but saddened, anticipation of a Future, which\ncomes over the soul in the silence of such an hour, when, though Death\nseems to reign in the repose of earth, there are those beacons of\nImmortality burning in the sky\u2014\u201d\n\nPausing, as I uttered the word \u201cimmortality,\u201d with a sigh to think how\nlittle my heart echoed to my lips, I looked in the face of the maiden, and\nsaw that it had lighted up, as I spoke, into a glow of holy animation,\nsuch as Faith alone gives\u2014such as Hope herself wears, when she is dreaming\nof heaven. Touched by the contrast, and gazing upon her with mournful\ntenderness, I found my arms half opened, to clasp her to my heart, while\nthe words died away inaudibly upon my lips,\u2014\u201cthou, too, beautiful maiden!\nmust thou, too, die for ever?\u201d\n\nMy self\u2010command, I felt, had nearly deserted me. Rising abruptly from my\nseat, I walked to the middle of the deck, and stood, for some moments,\nunconsciously gazing upon one of those fires, which,\u2014as is the custom of\nall who travel by night upon the Nile,\u2014our boatmen had just kindled, to\nscare away the crocodiles from the vessel. But it was in vain that I\nendeavoured to compose my spirit. Every effort I made but more deeply\nconvinced me, that, till the mystery which hung round that maiden should\nbe solved\u2014till the secret, with which my own bosom laboured, should be\ndisclosed\u2014it was fruitless to attempt even a semblance of tranquillity.\n\nMy resolution was therefore taken;\u2014to lay open, at least, my own heart, as\nfar as such a revelation might be risked, without startling the timid\ninnocence of my companion. Thus resolved, I returned, with more composure,\nto my seat by her side, and taking from my bosom the small mirror which\nshe had dropped in the Temple, and which I had ever since worn suspended\nround my neck, with a trembling hand presented it to her view. The boatmen\nhad just kindled one of their night\u2010fires near us, and its light, as she\nleaned forward towards the mirror, fell on her face.\n\nThe quick blush of surprise with which she recognised it to be hers, and\nher look of bashful, yet eager, inquiry, in raising her eyes to mine, were\nappeals to which I was not, of course, slow in answering. Beginning with\nthe first moment when I saw her in the Temple, and passing hastily, but\nwith words that burned as they went, over the impression which she had\nthen left upon my heart and fancy, I proceeded to describe the particulars\nof my descent into the pyramid\u2014my surprise and adoration at the door of\nthe chapel\u2014my encounter with the Trials of Initiation, so mysteriously\nprepared for me, and all the various visionary wonders I had witnessed in\nthat region, till the moment when I had seen her stealing from under the\nVeils to approach me.\n\nThough, in detailing these events, I had said but little of the feelings\nthey had awakened in me,\u2014though my lips had sent back many a sentence,\nunuttered, there was still enough that could neither be subdued or\ndisguised, and which, like that light from under the veils of her own\nIsis, glowed through every word that I spoke. When I told of the scene in\nthe chapel,\u2014of the silent interview which I had witnessed between the dead\nand the living,\u2014the maiden leaned down her head and wept, as from a heart\nfull of tears. It seemed a pleasure to her, however, to listen; and, when\nshe looked at me again, there was an earnest and affectionate cordiality\nin her eyes, as if the knowledge of my having been present at that\nmournful scene had opened a new source of sympathy and intelligence\nbetween us. So neighbouring are the fountains of Love and of Sorrow, and\nso imperceptibly do they often mingle their streams.\n\nLittle, indeed, as I was guided by art or design, in my manner and conduct\nto this innocent girl, not all the most experienced gallantry of the\nGarden could have dictated a policy half so seductive as that which my new\nmaster, Love, now taught me. The ardour which, shown at once, and without\nreserve, might have startled a heart so little prepared for it, thus\nchecked and softened by the timidity of real love, won its way without\nalarm, and, when most diffident of success, most triumphed. Like one whose\nsleep is gradually broken by music, the maiden\u2019s heart was awakened\nwithout being disturbed. She followed the charm, unconscious whither it\nled, nor was aware of the flame she had lighted in another\u2019s bosom, till\nshe perceived the reflection of it glimmering in her own.\n\nImpatient as I was to appeal to her generosity and sympathy, for a similar\nproof of confidence to that which I had just given, the night was now too\nfar advanced for me to impose such a task upon her. After exchanging a few\nwords, in which, though little was said, there was a tone and manner that\nspoke far more than language, we took a lingering leave of each other for\nthe night, with every prospect of still being together in our dreams.\n\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XIII.\n\n\nIt was so near the dawn of day when we parted, that we again found the sun\nsinking westward when we rejoined each other. The smile with which she met\nme,\u2014so frankly cordial,\u2014might have been taken for the greeting of a long\nmellowed friendship, did not the blush and the castdown eyelid, that\nfollowed, give symptoms of a feeling newer and less calm. For myself,\nlightened as I was, in some degree, by the confession which I had made, I\nwas yet too conscious of the new aspect thus given to our intercourse, to\nfeel altogether unembarrassed at the prospect of returning to the theme.\nIt was, therefore, willingly we both suffered our attention to be\ndiverted, by the variety of objects that presented themselves on the way,\nfrom a subject that both equally trembled to approach.\n\nThe river was now full of life and motion. Every moment we met with boats\ndescending the current, so independent of aid from sail or oar, that the\nsailors sat idly upon the deck as they shot along, singing or playing upon\ntheir double\u2010reeded pipes. Of these boats, the greater number came loaded\nwith merchandise from Coptos,\u2014some with those large emeralds, from the\nmine in the desert, whose colours, it is said, are brightest at the full\nof the moon, and some laden with frankincense from the acacia\u2010groves near\nthe Red Sea. On the decks of others, that had been to the Golden Mountains\nbeyond Syene, were heaped blocks and fragments of that sweet\u2010smelling\nwood, which the Green Nile of Nubia washes down in the season of the\nfloods.\n\nOur companions up the stream were far less numerous. Occasionally a boat,\nreturning lightened from the fair of last night, with those high sails\nthat catch every breeze from over the hills, shot past us;\u2014while, now and\nthen, we overtook one of those barges full of bees, that at this season of\nthe year, are sent to colonise the gardens of the south, and take\nadvantage of the first flowers after the inundation has passed away.\n\nBy these various objects we were, for a short time, enabled to divert the\nconversation from lighting and settling upon the one subject, round which\nit continually hovered. But the effort, as might be expected, was not long\nsuccessful. As evening advanced, the whole scene became more solitary. We\nless frequently ventured to look upon each other, and our intervals of\nsilence grew more long.\n\nIt was near sunset, when, in passing a small temple on the shore, whose\nporticoes were now full of the evening light, we saw, issuing from a\nthicket of acanthus near it, a train of young maids linked together in the\ndance by lotus\u2010stems, held at arms\u2019 length between them. Their tresses\nwere also wreathed with this emblem of the season, and such a profusion of\nthe white flowers were twisted round their waists and arms, that they\nmight have been taken, as they gracefully bounded along the bank, for\nNymphs of the Nile, risen freshly from their gardens under the wave.\n\nAfter looking for a few moments at this sacred dance, the maid turned away\nher eyes, with a look of pain, as if the remembrances it recalled were of\nno welcome nature. This momentary retrospect, this glimpse into the past,\nseemed to offer a sort of clue to the secret for which I panted;\u2014and,\ngradually and delicately as my impatience would allow, I availed myself of\nit. Her frankness, however, saved me the embarrassment of much\nquestioning. She even seemed to feel that the confidence I sought was due\nto me, and beyond the natural hesitation of maidenly modesty, not a shade\nof reserve or evasion appeared.\n\nTo attempt to repeat, in her own touching words, the simple story which\nshe now related to me, would be like endeavouring to note down some strain\nof unpremeditated music, with those fugitive graces, those felicities of\nthe moment, which no art can restore, as they first met the ear. From a\nfeeling, too, of humility, she had omitted in her narrative some\nparticulars relating to herself, which I afterwards learned;\u2014while others,\nnot less important, she but slightly passed over, from a fear of wounding\nthe prejudices of her heathen hearer.\n\nI shall, therefore, give her story, as the outline which she, herself,\nsketched was afterwards filled up by a pious and venerable hand,\u2014far, far\nmore worthy than mine of being associated with the memory of such purity.\n\n\n\n\n\n                             STORY OF AL\u0112THE.\n\n\n\u201cThe mother of this maiden was the beautiful Theora of Alexandria, who,\nthough a native of that city, was descended from Grecian parents. When\nvery young, Theora was one of the seven maidens selected, to note down the\ndiscourses of the eloquent Origen, who, at that period, presided over the\nSchool of Alexandria, and was in all the fulness of his fame, both among\nPagans and Christians. Endowed richly with the learning of both creeds, he\nbrought the natural light of philosophy to elucidate the mysteries of\nfaith, and was only proud of his knowledge of the wisdom of this world,\ninasmuch as it ministered to the triumph of divine truth.\n\n\u201cThough he had courted in vain the crown of martyrdom, it was held,\nthroughout his life, suspended over his head, and in more than one\npersecution, he had evinced his readiness to die for that faith which he\nlived but to testify and adorn. On one of these occasions, his tormentors,\nhaving habited him like an Egyptian priest, placed him upon the steps of\nthe Temple of Serapis, and commanded that he should, in the manner of the\nPagan ministers, present palm\u2010branches to the multitude who went up to the\nshrine. But the courageous Christian disappointed their views. Holding\nforth the branches with an unshrinking hand, he cried aloud, \u2018Come hither\nand take the branch, not of an Idol Temple, but of Christ.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo indefatigable was this learned Father in his studies, that, while\ncomposing his Commentary on the Scriptures, he was attended by seven\nscribes or notaries, who relieved each other in taking down the dictates\nof his eloquent tongue; while the same number of young females, selected\nfor the beauty of their penmanship, were employed in arranging and\ntranscribing the precious leaves.\n\n\u201cAmong the scribes so selected, was the fair young Theora, whose parents,\nthough attached to the Pagan worship, were not unwilling to profit by the\naccomplishments of their daughter, thus devoted to a task which they\nconsidered purely mechanical. To the maid herself, however, her task\nbrought far other feelings and consequences. She read anxiously as she\nwrote, and the divine truths, so eloquently illustrated, found their way,\nby degrees, from the page to her heart. Deeply, too, as the written words\naffected her, the discourses from the lips of the great teacher himself,\nwhich she had frequent opportunities of hearing, sunk still more deeply\ninto her mind. There was, at once, a sublimity and gentleness in his views\nof religion, which, to the tender hearts and lively imaginations of women,\nnever failed to appeal with convincing power. Accordingly, the list of his\nfemale pupils was numerous; and the names of Barbara, Juliana, Hera\u00efs, and\nothers, bear honourable testimony to his influence over that sex.\n\n\u201cTo Theora the feeling, with which his discourses inspired her, was like a\nnew soul,\u2014a consciousness of spiritual existence, unfelt before. By the\neloquence of the comment she was awakened into admiration of the text; and\nwhen, by the kindness of a Catechumen of the school, who had been struck\nby her innocent zeal, she, for the first time, became possessor of a copy\nof the Scriptures, she could not sleep for thinking of her sacred\ntreasure. With a mixture of pleasure and fear she hid it from all eyes,\nand was like one who had received a divine guest under her roof, and felt\nfearful of betraying its divinity to the world.\n\n\u201cA heart so awake would have been easily secured to the faith, had her\nopportunities of hearing the sacred word continued. But circumstances\narose to deprive her of this advantage. The mild Origen, long harassed and\nthwarted in his labours by the tyranny of the Bishop of Alexandria,\nDemetrius, was obliged to relinquish his school and fly from Egypt. The\noccupation of the fair scribe was, therefore, at an end: her intercourse\nwith the followers of the new faith ceased; and the growing enthusiasm of\nher heart gave way to more worldly impressions.\n\n\u201cLove, among the rest, had its share in alienating her thoughts from\nreligion. While still very young, she became the wife of a Greek\nadventurer, who had come to Egypt as a purchaser of that rich tapestry, in\nwhich the needles of Persia are rivalled by the looms of the Nile. Having\ntaken his young bride to Memphis, which was still the great mart of this\nmerchandise, he there, in the midst of his speculations, died,\u2014leaving his\nwidow on the point of becoming a mother, while, as yet, but in her\nnineteenth year.\n\n\u201cFor single and unprotected females, it has been, at all times, a\nfavourite resource, to seek admission into the service of some of those\ngreat temples, which absorb so much of the wealth and power of Egypt. In\nmost of these institutions there exists an order of Priestesses, which,\nthough not hereditary, like that of the Priests, is provided for by ample\nendowments, and confers that rank and station, with which, in a government\nso theocratic, Religion is sure to invest even her humblest handmaids.\nFrom the general policy of the Sacred College of Memphis, it may be\nconcluded, that an accomplished female, like Theora, found but little\ndifficulty in being chosen one of the Priestesses of Isis; and it was in\nthe service of the subterranean shrines that her ministry chiefly lay.\n\n\u201cHere, a month or two after her admission, she gave birth to Alethe, who\nfirst opened her eyes among the unholy pomps and specious miracles of this\nmysterious region. Though Theora, as we have seen, had been diverted by\nother feelings from her first enthusiasm for the Christian faith, she had\nnever wholly forgot the impression then made upon her. The sacred volume,\nwhich the pious Catechumen had given her, was still treasured with care;\nand, though she seldom opened its pages, there was an idea of sanctity\nassociated with it in her memory, and often would she sit to look upon it\nwith reverential pleasure, recalling the happiness she felt when it was\nfirst made her own.\n\n\u201cThe leisure of her new retreat, and the lone melancholy of widowhood, led\nher still more frequently to indulge in such thoughts, and to recur to\nthose consoling truths which she had heard in the school of Alexandria.\nShe now began to peruse eagerly the sacred book, drinking deep of the\nfountain of which she before but tasted, and feeling\u2014what thousands of\nmourners, since her, have felt\u2014that Christianity is the true religion of\nthe sorrowful.\n\n\u201cThis study of her secret hours became still more dear to her, from the\nperil with which, at that period, it was attended, and the necessity she\nwas under of concealing from those around her the precious light that had\nbeen kindled in her heart. Too timid to encounter the fierce persecution,\nwhich awaited all who were suspected of a leaning to Christianity, she\ncontinued to officiate in the pomps and ceremonies of the Temple;\u2014though,\noften, with such remorse of soul, that she would pause, in the midst of\nthe rites, and pray inwardly to God, that he would forgive this\nprofanation of his Spirit.\n\n\u201cIn the mean time her daughter, the young Alethe, grew up still lovelier\nthan herself, and added, every hour, to her happiness and her fears. When\narrived at a sufficient age, she was taught, like the other children of\nthe priestesses, to take a share in the service and ceremonies of the\nshrines. The duty of some of these young servitors was to look after the\nflowers for the altar;\u2014of others, to take care that the sacred vases were\nfilled every day with fresh water from the Nile. The task of some was to\npreserve, in perfect polish, those silver images of the moon which the\npriests carried in processions; while others were, as we have seen,\nemployed in feeding the consecrated animals, and in keeping their plumes\nand scales bright, for the admiring eyes of their worshippers.\n\n\u201cThe office allotted to Alethe\u2014the most honourable of these minor\nministries\u2014was to wait upon the sacred birds of the Moon, to feed them\nwith those eggs from the Nile which they loved, and provide for their use\nthat purest water, which alone these delicate birds will touch. This\nemployment was the delight of her childish hours; and that ibis, which\nAlciphron (the Epicurean) saw her dance round in the Temple, was her\nfavourite, of all the sacred flock, and had been daily fondled and fed by\nher from infancy.\n\n\u201cMusic, as being one of the chief spells of this enchanted region, was an\naccomplishment required of all its ministrants; and the harp, the lyre,\nand the sacred flute, sounded nowhere so sweetly as that through these\nsubterranean gardens. The chief object, indeed, in the education of the\nyouth of the Temple, was to fit them, by every grace of art and nature, to\ngive effect to the illusion of those shows and phantasms, in which the\nwhole charm and secret of Initiation lay.\n\n\u201cAmong the means employed to support the old system of superstition,\nagainst the infidelity and, still more, the new Faith that menaced it, was\nan increased display of splendour and marvels in those Mysteries for which\nEgypt has so long been celebrated. Of these ceremonies so many imitations\nhad, under various names, been multiplied through Europe, that the parent\nsuperstition ran a risk of being eclipsed by its progeny; and, in order\nstill to retain their rank of the first Priesthood in the world, those of\nEgypt found it necessary to continue still the best impostors.\n\n\u201cAccordingly, every contrivance that art could devise, or labour\nexecute\u2014every resource that the wonderful knowledge of the Priests, in\npyrotechny, mechanics, and dioptrics, could command, was brought into\naction to heighten the effect of their Mysteries, and give an air of\nenchantment to every thing connected with them.\n\n\u201cThe final scene of beatification\u2014the Elysium, into which the Initiate was\nreceived,\u2014formed, of course, the leading attraction of these ceremonies;\nand to render it captivating alike to the senses of the man of pleasure,\nand the imagination of the spiritualist, was the object to which the whole\nskill and attention of the Sacred College were devoted. By the influence\nof the Priests of Memphis over those of the other Temples they had\nsucceeded in extending their subterranean frontier, both to the north and\nsouth, so as to include, within their ever\u2010lighted Paradise, some of the\ngardens excavated for the use of the other Twelve Shrines.\n\n\u201cThe beauty of the young Alethe, the touching sweetness of her voice, and\nthe sensibility that breathed throughout her every look and movement,\nrendered her a powerful auxiliary in such appeals to the imagination. She\nwas, accordingly, from her childhood, selected from among her fair\ncompanions, as the most worthy representative of spiritual loveliness, in\nthose pictures of Elysium\u2014those scenes of another world\u2014by which not only\nthe fancy, but the reason, of the excited Aspirants was dazzled.\n\n\u201cTo the innocent child herself these shows were pastime. But to Theora,\nwho knew too well the imposition to which they were subservient, this\nprofanation of all that she loved was a perpetual source of horror and\nremorse. Often would she\u2014when Alethe stood smiling before her, arrayed,\nperhaps, as a spirit of the Elysian world,\u2014turn away, with a shudder, from\nthe happy child, almost fancying that she already saw the shadows of sin\ndescending over that innocent brow, as she gazed on it.\n\n\u201cAs the intellect of the young maid became more active and inquiring, the\napprehensions and difficulties of the mother increased. Afraid to\ncommunicate her own precious secret, lest she should involve her child in\nthe dangers that encompassed it, she yet felt it to be no less a cruelty\nthan a crime to leave her wholly immersed in the darkness of Paganism. In\nthis dilemma, the only resource that remained to her was to select, and\ndisengage from the dross that surrounded them, those pure particles of\ntruth which lie at the bottom of all religions;\u2014those feelings, rather\nthan doctrines, which God has never left his creatures without, and which,\nin all ages, have furnished, to those who sought it, some clue to his\nglory.\n\n\u201cThe unity and perfect goodness of the Creator; the fall of the human soul\ninto corruption; its struggles with the darkness of this world, and its\nfinal redemption and re\u2010ascent to the source of all spirit;\u2014these natural\nsolutions of the problem of our existence, these elementary grounds of all\nreligion and virtue, which Theora had heard illustrated by her Christian\nteacher, lay also, she knew, veiled under the theology of Egypt; and to\nimpress them, in all their abstract purity, upon the mind of her\nsusceptible pupil, was, in default of more heavenly lights, her sole\nambition and care.\n\n\u201cIt was their habit, after devoting their mornings to the service of the\nTemple, to pass their evenings and nights in one of those small mansions\nabove ground, allotted to some of the most favoured Priestesses, in the\nprecincts of the Sacred College. Here, out of the reach of those gross\nsuperstitions, which pursued them, at every step, below, she endeavoured\nto inform, as far as she might, the mind of her beloved girl; and found it\nlean as naturally and instinctively to truth, as plants that have been\nlong shut up in darkness will, when light is let in, incline themselves to\nits ray.\n\n\u201cFrequently, as they sat together on the terrace at night, contemplating\nthat assembly of glorious stars, whose beauty first misled mankind into\nidolatry, she would explain to the young listener by what gradations it\nwas that the worship, thus transferred from the Creator to the creature,\nsunk lower and lower in the scale of being, till man, at length, presumed\nto deify man, and by the most monstrous of inversions, heaven was made the\nmirror of earth, reflecting all its most earthly features.\n\n\u201cEven in the Temple itself, the anxious mother would endeavour to\ninterpose her purer lessons among the idolatrous ceremonies in which they\nwere engaged. When the favourite ibis of Alethe took its station on the\nshrine, and the young maiden was seen approaching, with all the gravity of\nworship, the very bird which she had played with but an hour before,\u2014when\nthe acacia\u2010bough, which she herself had plucked, seemed to acquire a\nsudden sacredness in her eyes, as soon as the priest had breathed on\nit,\u2014on all such occasions Theora, though with fear and trembling, would\nventure to suggest to the youthful worshipper the distinction that should\nbe drawn between the sensible object of adoration, and that spiritual,\nunseen Deity, of which it was but the remembrancer or type.\n\n\u201cWith sorrow, however, she soon discovered that, in thus but partially\nenlightening a mind too ardent to be satisfied with such glimmerings, she\nonly bewildered the heart that she meant to guide, and cut down the hope\nround which its faith twined, without substituting any other support in\nits place. As the beauty, too, of Alethe began to attract all eyes, new\nfears crowded upon the mother\u2019s heart;\u2014fears, in which she was but too\nmuch justified by the characters of some of those around her.\n\n\u201cIn this sacred abode, as may easily be conceived, morality did not always\ngo hand in hand with religion. The hypocritical and ambitious Orcus, who\nwas, at this period, High Priest of Memphis, was a man, in every respect,\nqualified to preside over a system of such splendid fraud. He had reached\nthat effective time of life, when enough of the warmth of youth remains to\ngive animation to the counsels of age. But, in his instance, youth had\nonly the baser passions to bequeath, while age but contributed a more\nrefined maturity of mischief. The advantages of a faith appealing so\nwholly to the senses, were well understood by him; nor was he ignorant\nthat the only way of making religion subservient to his own interests was\nby shaping it adroitly to the passions of others.\n\n\u201cThe state of misery and remorse in which the mind of Theora was kept by\nthe scenes, however veiled by hypocrisy, which she witnessed around her,\nbecame at length intolerable. No perils that the cause of truth could\nbring with it would be half so dreadful as this endurance of sinfulness\nand deceit. Her child was, as yet, pure and innocent;\u2014but, without that\nsentinel of the soul, Religion, how long might she continue so?\n\n\u201cThis thought at once decided her;\u2014all other fears vanished before it. She\nresolved instantly to lay open to Alethe the whole secret of her soul; to\nmake her, who was her only hope on earth, the sharer of all her hopes in\nheaven, and then fly with her, as soon as possible, from this unhallowed\nplace, to the desert\u2014to the mountains\u2014to any place, however desolate,\nwhere God and the consciousness of innocence might be with them.\n\n\u201cThe promptitude with which her young pupil caught from her the divine\ntruths, was even beyond what she expected. It was like the lighting of one\ntorch at another,\u2014so prepared was Alethe\u2019s mind for the illumination.\nAmply was the mother now repaid for all her misery, by this perfect\ncommunion of love and faith, and by the delight with which she saw her\nbeloved child\u2014like the young antelope, when first led by her dam to the\nwell,\u2014drink thirstily by her side, at the source of all life and truth.\n\n\u201cBut such happiness was not long to last. The anxieties that Theora had\nsuffered preyed upon her health. She felt her strength daily decline; and\nthe thoughts of leaving, alone and unguarded in the world, that treasure\nwhich she had just devoted to heaven, gave her a feeling of despair which\nbut hastened the ebb of life. Had she put in practice her resolution of\nflying from this place, her child might have been now beyond the reach of\nall she dreaded, and in the solitude of the wilderness would have found at\nleast safety from wrong. But the very happiness she had felt in her new\ntask diverted her from this project;\u2014and it was now too late, for she was\nalready dying.\n\n\u201cShe concealed, however, her state from the tender and sanguine girl, who,\nthough she saw the traces of disease on her mother\u2019s cheek, little knew\nthat they were the hastening footsteps of death, nor thought even of the\npossibility of losing what was so dear to her. Too soon, however, the\nmoment of separation arrived; and while the anguish and dismay of Alethe\nwere in proportion to the security in which she had indulged, Theora, too,\nfelt, with bitter regret, that she had sacrificed to her fond\nconsideration much precious time, and that there now remained but a few\nbrief and painful moments, for the communication of all those wishes and\ninstructions, on which the future destiny of the young orphan depended.\n\n\u201cShe had, indeed, time for little more than to place the sacred volume\nsolemnly in her hands, to implore that she would, at all risks, fly from\nthis unholy place, and, pointing in the direction of the mountains of the\nSa\u00efd, to name, with her last breath, the holy man, to whom, under heaven,\nshe trusted for the protection and salvation of her child.\n\n\u201cThe first violence of feeling to which Alethe gave way was succeeded by a\nfixed and tearless grief, which rendered her insensible, for some time, to\nthe dangers of her situation. Her only comfort was in visiting that\nmonumental chapel, where the beautiful remains of Theora lay. There, night\nafter night, in contemplation of those placid features, and in prayers for\nthe peace of the departed spirit, did she pass her lonely, and\u2014sad as they\nwere\u2014happiest hours. Though the mystic emblems that decorated that chapel\nwere but ill suited to the slumber of a Christian saint, there was one\namong them, the Cross, which, by a remarkable coincidence, is an emblem\ncommon alike to the Gentile and the Christian,\u2014being, to the former, a\nshadowy type of that immortality, of which, to the latter, it is a\nsubstantial and assuring pledge.\n\n\u201cNightly, upon this cross, which she had often seen her lost mother kiss,\ndid she breathe forth a solemn and heartfelt vow, never to abandon the\nfaith which that departed spirit had bequeathed to her. To such\nenthusiasm, indeed, did her heart at such moments rise, that, but for the\nlast injunctions from those pallid lips, she would, at once, have avowed\nher perilous secret, and spoken out the words, \u2018I am a Christian,\u2019 among\nthose benighted shrines!\n\n\u201cBut the will of her, to whom she owed more than life, was to be obeyed.\nTo escape from this haunt of superstition must now, she felt, be her first\nobject; and, in devising the means of effecting it, her mind, day and\nnight, was employed. It was with a loathing not to be concealed she now\nfound herself compelled to resume her idolatrous services at the shrine.\nTo some of the offices of Theora she succeeded, as is the custom, by\ninheritance; and in the performance of these\u2014sanctified as they were in\nher eyes by the pure spirit she had seen engaged in them\u2014there was a sort\nof melancholy pleasure in which her sorrow found relief. But the part she\nwas again forced to take, in the scenic shows of the Mysteries, brought\nwith it a sense of wrong and degradation which she could no longer bear.\n\n\u201cShe had already formed, in her own mind, a plan of escape, in which her\nknowledge of all the windings of this subterranean realm gave her\nconfidence, when the reception of Alciphron, as an Initiate, took place.\n\n\u201cFrom the first moment of the landing of that philosopher at Alexandria,\nhe had become an object of suspicion and watchfulness to the inquisitorial\nOrcus, whom philosophy, in any shape, naturally alarmed, but to whom the\nsect over which the young Athenian presided was particularly obnoxious.\nThe accomplishments of Alciphron, his popularity, wherever he went, and\nthe freedom with which he indulged his wit at the expense of religion, was\nall faithfully reported to the High Priest by his spies, and stirred up\nwithin him no kindly feelings towards the stranger. In dealing with an\ninfidel, such a personage as Orcus could know no alternative but that of\neither converting or destroying him; and though his spite, as a man, would\nhave been more gratified by the latter proceeding, his pride, as a priest,\nled him to prefer the triumph of the former.\n\n\u201cThe first descent of the Epicurean into the pyramid was speedily known,\nand the alarm immediately given to the Priests below. As soon as it was\ndiscovered that the young philosopher of Athens was the intruder, and that\nhe still continued to linger round the pyramid, looking often and\nwistfully towards the portal, it was concluded that his curiosity would\nimpel him to try a second descent; and Orcus, blessing the good chance\nwhich had thus brought the wild bird to his net, determined not to allow\nan opportunity so precious to be wasted.\n\n\u201cInstantly, the whole of that wonderful machinery, by which the phantasms\nand illusions of Initiation are produced, were put in active preparation\nthroughout that subterranean realm; and the increased stir and\nwatchfulness excited among its inmates, by this more than ordinary display\nof all the resources of priestcraft, rendered the accomplishment of\nAlethe\u2019s design, at such a moment, peculiarly difficult. Wholly ignorant\nof the share which had fallen to herself in attracting the young\nphilosopher down to this region, she but heard of him vaguely, as the\nChief of a great Grecian sect, who had been led, by either curiosity or\naccident, to expose himself to the first trials of Initiation, and whom\nthe priests, she saw, were endeavouring to ensnare in their toils, by\nevery art and skill with which their science of darkness had gifted them.\n\n\u201cTo her mind, the image of a philosopher, such as Alciphron had been\nrepresented to her, came associated with ideas of age and reverence; and,\nmore than once, the possibility of his being made instrumental to her\ndeliverance flashed a hope across her heart in which she could not help\nindulging. Often had she been told by Theora of the many Gentile sages,\nwho had laid their wisdom down humbly at the foot of the Cross; and though\nthis Initiate, she feared, could hardly be among the number, yet the\nrumours which she had gathered from the servants of the Temple, of his\nundisguised contempt for the errors of heathenism, led her to hope she\nmight find tolerance, if not sympathy, in her appeal to him.\n\n\u201cNor was it solely with a view to her own chance of deliverance that she\nthus connected him in her thoughts with the plan which she meditated. The\nlook of proud and self\u2010gratulating malice, with which the High Priest had\nmentioned this \u2018infidel,\u2019 as he styled him, when instructing her in the\nscene she was to enact before the philosopher in the valley, but too\nplainly informed her of the destiny that hung over him. She knew how many\nwere the hapless candidates for Initiation, who had been doomed to a\ndurance worse than that of the grave, for but a word, a whisper breathed\nagainst the sacred absurdities which they witnessed; and it was evident to\nher that the venerable Greek (for such her fancy represented Alciphron)\nwas no less interested in escaping from this region than herself.\n\n\u201cHer own resolution was, at all events, fixed. That visionary scene, in\nwhich she had appeared before Alciphron,\u2014little knowing how ardent were\nthe heart and imagination, over which her beauty, at that moment, shed its\nwhole influence,\u2014was, she solemnly resolved, the very last unholy service,\nthat superstition or imposture should ever command of her.\n\n\u201cOn the following night the Aspirant was to watch in the Great Temple of\nIsis. Such an opportunity of approaching and addressing him might never\ncome again. Should he, from compassion for her situation, or a sense of\nthe danger of his own, consent to lend his aid to her flight, most gladly\nwould she accept it,\u2014assured that no danger or treachery she might risk\ncould be half so dreadful as those she left behind. Should he, on the\ncontrary, refuse, her determination was equally fixed\u2014to trust to that\nGod, who watches over the innocent, and go forth alone.\n\n\u201cTo reach the island in Lake M\u0153ris was her first object, and there\noccurred luckily, at this time, a mode of accomplishing it, by which the\ndifficulty and dangers of the attempt would be, in a great degree,\ndiminished. The day of the annual visitation of the High Priest to the\nPlace of Weeping\u2014as that island in the centre of the lake is called\u2014was\nnow fast approaching; and Alethe well knew that the self\u2010moving car, by\nwhich the High Priest and one of the Hierophants are conveyed to the\nchambers under the lake, stood waiting in readiness. By availing herself\nof this expedient, she would gain the double advantage both of\nfacilitating her own flight and retarding the speed of her pursuers.\n\n\u201cHaving paid a last visit to the tomb of her beloved mother, and wept\nthere, long and passionately, till her heart almost failed in the\nstruggle,\u2014having paused, too, to give a kiss to her favourite ibis, which,\nthough too much a Christian to worship, she was still child enough to\nlove,\u2014with a trembling step she went early to the Sanctuary, and hid\nherself in one of the recesses of the Shrine. Her intention was to steal\nout from thence to Alciphron, while it was yet dark, and before the\nillumination of the great Statue behind the Veils had begun. But her fears\ndelayed her till it was almost too late;\u2014already was the image lighted up,\nand still she remained trembling in her hiding place.\n\n\u201cIn a few minutes more the mighty Veils would have been withdrawn, and the\nglories of that scene of enchantment laid open,\u2014when, at length, summoning\nup courage, and taking advantage of a momentary absence of those employed\nin the preparations of this splendid mockery, she stole from under the\nVeil and found her way, through the gloom, to the Epicurean. There was\nthen no time for explanation;\u2014she had but to trust to the simple words,\n\u2018Follow, and be silent;\u2019 and the implicit readiness with which she found\nthem obeyed filled her with no less surprise than the philosopher himself\nfelt in hearing them.\n\n\u201cIn a second or two they were on their way through the subterranean\nwindings, leaving the ministers of Isis to waste their splendours on\nvacancy, through a long series of miracles and visions which they now\nexhibited,\u2014unconscious that he, whom they took such pains to dazzle, was\nalready, under the guidance of the young Christian, removed beyond the\nreach of their spells.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. XIV.\n\n\nSuch was the story, of which this innocent girl gave me, in her own\ntouching language, the outline.\n\nThe sun was just rising as she finished her narrative. Fearful of\nencountering the expression of those feelings with which, she could not\nbut observe, I was affected by her recital, scarcely had she concluded the\nlast sentence, when, rising abruptly from her seat, she hurried into the\npavilion, leaving me with the words already crowding for utterance to my\nlips.\n\nOppressed by the various emotions, thus sent back upon my heart, I lay\ndown on the deck in a state of agitation, that defied even the most\ndistant approaches of sleep. While every word she had uttered, every\nfeeling she expressed, but ministered new fuel to that flame within me, to\ndescribe which, passion is too weak a word, there was also much of her\nrecital that disheartened, that alarmed me. To find a Christian thus under\nthe garb of a Memphian Priestess, was a discovery that, had my heart been\nless deeply interested, would but have more powerfully stimulated my\nimagination and pride. But, when I recollected the austerity of the faith\nshe had embraced,\u2014the tender and sacred tie, associated with it in her\nmemory, and the devotion of woman\u2019s heart to objects thus consecrated,\u2014her\nvery perfections but widened the distance between us, and all that most\nkindled my passion at the same time chilled my hopes.\n\nWere we left to each other, as on this silent river, in this undisturbed\ncommunion of thoughts and feelings, I knew too well, I thought, both her\nsex\u2019s nature and my own, to feel a doubt that love would ultimately\ntriumph. But the severity of the guardianship to which I must resign\nher,\u2014some monk of the desert, some stern Solitary,\u2014the influence such a\nmonitor would gain over her mind, and the horror with which, ere long, she\nwould be taught to regard the reprobate infidel on whom she now smiled,\u2014in\nall this prospect I saw nothing but despair. After a few short hours, my\nhappiness would be at an end, and such a dark chasm open between our\nfates, as must sever them, far as earth is from heaven, asunder.\n\nIt was true, she was now wholly in my power. I feared no witnesses but\nthose of earth, and the solitude of the desert was at hand. But though I\nacknowledged not a heaven, I worshipped her who was, to me, its type and\nsubstitute. If, at any moment, a single thought of wrong or deceit,\ntowards a creature so sacred, arose in my mind, one look from her innocent\neyes averted the sacrilege. Even passion itself felt a holy fear in her\npresence,\u2014like the flame trembling in the breeze of the sanctuary,\u2014and\nLove, pure Love, stood in place of Religion.\n\nAs long as I knew not her story, I might indulge, at least, in dreams of\nthe future. But, now\u2014what hope, what prospect remained? My sole chance of\nhappiness lay in the feeble hope of beguiling away her thoughts from the\nplan which she meditated; of weaning her, by persuasion, from that austere\nfaith, which I had before hated and now feared, and of\u2014attaching her,\nperhaps, alone and unlinked as she was in the world, to my own fortunes\nfor ever!\n\nIn the agitation of these thoughts, I had started from my resting\u2010place,\nand continued to pace up and down, under a burning sun, till, exhausted\nboth by thought and feeling, I sunk down, amid its blaze, into a sleep,\nwhich, to my fevered brain, seemed a sleep of fire.\n\nOn awaking, I found the veil of Alethe laid carefully over my brow, while\nshe, herself, sat near me, under the shadow of the sail, looking anxiously\nat that leaf, which her mother had given her, and apparently employed in\ncomparing its outlines with the course of the river and the forms of the\nrocky hills by which we passed. She looked pale and troubled, and rose\neagerly to meet me, as if she had long and impatiently waited for my\nwaking.\n\nHer heart, it was plain, had been disturbed from its security, and was\nbeginning to take alarm at its own feelings. But, though vaguely conscious\nof the peril to which she was exposed, her reliance, as is usually the\ncase, increased with her danger, and on me, far more than on herself, did\nshe depend for saving her from it. To reach, as soon as possible, her\nasylum in the desert, was now the urgent object of her entreaties and\nwishes; and the self\u2010reproach she expressed at having permitted her\nthoughts to be diverted, for a single moment, from this sacred purpose,\nnot only revealed the truth, that she had forgotten it, but betrayed even\na glimmering consciousness of the cause.\n\nHer sleep, she said, had been broken by ill\u2010omened dreams. Every moment\nthe shade of her mother had stood before her, rebuking her, with mournful\nlooks, for her delay, and pointing, as she had done in death, to the\neastern hills. Bursting into tears at this accusing recollection, she\nhastily placed the leaf, which she had been examining, in my hands, and\nimplored that I would ascertain, without a moment\u2019s delay, what portion of\nour voyage was still unperformed, and in what space of time we might hope\nto accomplish it.\n\nI had, still less than herself, taken note of either place or distance;\nand, had we been left to glide on in this dream of happiness, should never\nhave thought of pausing to ask where it would end. But such confidence, I\nfelt, was too sacred to be deceived. Reluctant as I was, naturally, to\nenter on an inquiry, which might so soon dissipate even my last hope, her\nwish was sufficient to supersede even the selfishness of love, and on the\ninstant I proceeded to obey her will.\n\nThere is, on the eastern bank of the Nile, to the north of Antin\u00f6e, a high\nand steep rock, impending over the flood, which for ages, from a prodigy\nconnected with it, has borne the name of the Mountain of the Birds.\nYearly, it is said, at a certain season and hour, large flocks of birds\nassemble in the ravine, of which this rocky mountain forms one of the\nsides, and are there observed to go through the mysterious ceremony of\ninserting each its beak into a particular cleft of the rock, till the\ncleft closes upon one of their number, when the rest, taking wing, leave\nthe selected victim to die.\n\nThrough the ravine where this charm\u2014for such the multitude consider it\u2014is\nworked, there ran, in ancient times, a canal from the Nile, to some great\nand forgotten city that now lies buried in the desert. To a short distance\nfrom the river this canal still exists, but, soon after having passed\nthrough the defile, its scanty waters disappear altogether, and are lost\nunder the sands.\n\nIt was in the neighbourhood of this place, as I could collect from the\ndelineations on the leaf,\u2014where a flight of birds represented the name of\nthe mountain,\u2014that the dwelling of the Solitary, to whom Alethe was\nbequeathed, lay. Imperfect as was my knowledge of the geography of Egypt,\nit at once struck me, that we had long since left this mountain behind;\nand, on inquiring of our boatmen, I found my conjecture confirmed. We had,\nindeed, passed it, as appeared, on the preceding night; and, as the wind\nhad, ever since, blown strongly from the north, and the sun was already\ndeclining towards the horizon, we must now be, at least, an ordinary day\u2019s\nsail to the southward of the spot.\n\nAt this discovery, I own, my heart felt a joy which I could with\ndifficulty conceal. It seemed to me as if fortune was conspiring with\nlove, and, by thus delaying the moment of our separation, afforded me at\nleast a chance of happiness. Her look, too, and manner, when informed of\nour mistake, rather encouraged than chilled this secret hope. In the first\nmoment of astonishment, her eyes opened upon me with a suddenness of\nsplendour, under which I felt my own wink, as if lightning had crossed\nthem. But she again, as suddenly, let their lids fall, and, after a quiver\nof her lip, which showed the conflict of feeling within, crossed her arms\nupon her bosom, and looked silently down upon the deck;\u2014her whole\ncountenance sinking into an expression, sad, but resigned, as if she felt,\nwith me, that fate was on the side of wrong, and saw Love already stealing\nbetween her soul and heaven.\n\nI was not slow in availing myself of what I fancied to be the irresolution\nof her mind. But, fearful of exciting alarm by any appeal to tenderer\nfeelings, I but addressed myself to her imagination, and to that love of\nnovelty, which is for ever fresh in the youthful breast. We were now\napproaching that region of wonders, Thebes. \u201cIn a day or two,\u201d said I, \u201cwe\nshall see, towering above the waters, the colossal Avenue of Sphinxes, and\nthe bright Obelisks of the Sun. We shall visit the plain of Memnon, and\nthose mighty statues, that fling their shadows at sunrise over the Libyan\nhills. We shall hear the image of the Son of the Morning answering to the\nfirst touch of light. From thence, in a few hours, a breeze like this will\ntransport us to those sunny islands near the cataracts; there, to wander,\namong the sacred palm\u2010groves of Phil\u00e6, or sit, at noon\u2010tide hour, in those\ncool alcoves, which the waterfall of Syene shadows under its arch. Oh,\nwho, with such scenes of loveliness within reach, would turn coldly away\nto the bleak desert, and leave this fair world, with all its enchantments,\nshining behind them, unseen and unenjoyed? At least,\u201d\u2014I added, tenderly\ntaking her by the hand,\u2014\u201cat least, let a few more days be stolen from the\ndreary fate to which thou hast devoted thyself, and then\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nShe had heard but the last few words;\u2014the rest had been lost upon her.\nStartled by the tone of tenderness, into which, in spite of all my\nresolves, my voice had softened, she looked for an instant in my face,\nwith passionate earnestness;\u2014then, dropping upon her knees with her\nclasped hands upraised, exclaimed\u2014\u201cTempt me not, in the name of God I\nimplore thee, tempt me not to swerve from my sacred duty. Oh, take me\ninstantly to that desert mountain, and I will bless thee for ever.\u201d\n\nThis appeal, I felt, _could not_ be resisted,\u2014though my heart were to\nbreak for it. Having silently expressed my assent to her prayer, by a\npressure of her hand as I raised her from the deck, I hastened, as we were\nstill in full career for the south, to give orders that our sail should be\ninstantly lowered, and not a moment lost in retracing our course.\n\nIn proceeding, however, to give these directions, it, for the first time,\noccurred to me, that, as I had hired this yacht in the neighbourhood of\nMemphis, where it was probable that the flight of the young fugitive would\nbe most vigilantly tracked, we should act imprudently in betraying to the\nboatmen the place of her retreat;\u2014and the present seemed the most\nfavourable opportunity of evading such a danger. Desiring, therefore, that\nwe should be landed at a small village on the shore, under pretence of\npaying a visit to some shrine in the neighbourhood, I there dismissed our\nbarge, and was relieved from fear of further observation, by seeing it\nagain set sail, and resume its course fleetly up the current.\n\nFrom the boats of all descriptions that lay idle beside the bank, I now\nselected one, which, in every respect, suited my purpose,\u2014being, in its\nshape and accommodations, a miniature of our former vessel, but so small\nand light as to be manageable by myself alone, and, with the advantage of\nthe current, requiring little more than a hand to steer it. This boat I\nsucceeded, without much difficulty, in purchasing, and, after a short\ndelay, we were again afloat down the current;\u2014the sun just then sinking,\nin conscious glory, over his own golden shrines in the Libyan waste.\n\nThe evening was more calm and lovely than any that yet had smiled upon our\nvoyage; and, as we left the bank, there came soothingly over our ears a\nstrain of sweet, rustic melody from the shore. It was the voice of a young\nNubian girl, whom we saw kneeling on the bank before an acacia, and\nsinging, while her companions stood round, the wild song of invocation,\nwhich, in her country, they address to that enchanted tree:\u2014\n\n    \u201cOh! Abyssinian tree,\n      We pray, we pray, to thee;\n  By the glow of thy golden fruit,\n    And the violet hue of thy flower,\n      And the greeting mute\n      Of thy bough\u2019s salute\n    To the stranger who seeks thy bower.(6)\n\n                II.\n\n    \u201cOh! Abyssinian tree,\n      How the traveller blesses thee,\n  When the night no moon allows,\n    And the sun\u2010set hour is near,\n      And thou bend\u2019st thy boughs\n      To kiss his brows,\n    Saying, \u2018Come rest thee here.\u2019\n      Oh! Abyssinian tree,\n      Thus bow thy head to me!\u201d\n\nIn the burden of this song the companions of the young Nubian joined; and\nwe heard the words, \u201cOh! Abyssinian tree,\u201d dying away on the breeze, long\nafter the whole group had been lost to our eyes.\n\nWhether, in this new arrangement which I had made for our voyage, any\nmotive, besides those which I professed, had a share, I can scarcely, even\nmyself, so bewildered were my feelings, determine. But no sooner had the\ncurrent borne us away from all human dwellings, and we were alone on the\nwaters, with not a soul near, than I felt how closely such solitude draws\nhearts together, and how much more we seemed to belong to each other, than\nwhen there were eyes around.\n\nThe same feeling, but without the same sense of its danger, was manifest\nin every look and word of Alethe. The consciousness of the one great\neffort she had made appeared to have satisfied her heart on the score of\nduty,\u2014while the devotedness with which she saw I attended to her every\nwish, was felt with all that gratitude which, in woman, is the day\u2010spring\nof love. She was, therefore, happy, innocently happy; and the confiding,\nand even affectionate, unreserve of her manner, while it rendered my trust\nmore sacred, made it also far more difficult.\n\nIt was only, however, on subjects unconnected with our situation or fate,\nthat she yielded to such interchange of thought, or that her voice\nventured to answer mine. The moment I alluded to the destiny that awaited\nus, all her cheerfulness fled, and she became saddened and silent. When I\ndescribed to her the beauty of my own native land\u2014its founts of\ninspiration and fields of glory\u2014her eyes sparkled with sympathy, and\nsometimes even softened into fondness. But when I ventured to whisper,\nthat, in that glorious country, a life full of love and liberty awaited\nher; when I proceeded to contrast the adoration and bliss she might\ncommand, with the gloomy austerities of the life to which she was\nhastening,\u2014it was like the coming of a sudden cloud over a summer sky. Her\nhead sunk, as she listened;\u2014I waited in vain for an answer; and when, half\nplayfully reproaching her for this silence, I stooped to take her hand, I\ncould feel the warm tears fast falling over it.\n\nBut even this\u2014little hope as it held out\u2014was happiness. Though it\nforeboded that I should lose her, it also whispered that I was loved. Like\nthat lake, in the Land of Roses(7), whose waters are half sweet, half\nbitter, I felt my fate to be a compound of bliss and pain,\u2014but the very\npain well worth all ordinary bliss.\n\nAnd thus did the hours of that night pass along; while every moment\nshortened our happy dream, and the current seemed to flow with a swifter\npace than any that ever yet hurried to the sea. Not a feature of the whole\nscene but is, at this moment, freshly in my memory;\u2014the broken star\u2010light\non the water;\u2014the rippling sound of the boat, as, without oar or sail, it\nwent, like a thing of enchantment, down the stream;\u2014the scented fire,\nburning beside us on the deck, and, oh, that face, on which its light\nfell, still revealing, as it turned, some new charm, some blush or look,\nmore beautiful than the last.\n\nOften, while I sat gazing, forgetful of all else in this world, our boat,\nleft wholly to itself, would drive from its course, and, bearing us to the\nbank, get entangled in the water\u2010flowers, or be caught in some eddy, ere I\nperceived where we were. Once, too, when the rustling of my oar among the\nflowers had startled away from the bank some wild antelopes, that had\nstolen, at that still hour, to drink of the Nile, what an emblem I thought\nit of the young heart beside me,\u2014tasting, for the first time, of hope and\nlove, and so soon, alas, to be scared from their sweetness for ever!\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. XV.\n\n\nThe night was now far advanced;\u2014the bend of our course towards the left,\nand the closing in of the eastern hills upon the river, gave warning of\nour approach to the hermit\u2019s dwelling. Every minute now seemed like the\nlast of existence; and I felt a sinking of despair at my heart, which\nwould have been intolerable, had not a resolution that suddenly, and as if\nby inspiration, occurred to me, presented a glimpse of hope which, in some\ndegree, calmed my feelings.\n\nMuch as I had, all my life, despised hypocrisy,\u2014the very sect I had\nembraced being chiefly recommended to me by the war which they waged on\nthe cant of all others,\u2014it was, nevertheless, in hypocrisy that I now\nscrupled not to take refuge from, what I dreaded more than shame or death,\nmy separation from Alethe. In my despair, I adopted the humiliating\nplan\u2014deeply humiliating as I felt it to be, even amid the joy with which I\nwelcomed it\u2014of offering myself to this hermit, as a convert to his faith,\nand thus becoming the fellow\u2010disciple of Alethe under his care!\n\nFrom the moment I resolved upon this plan, my spirit felt lightened.\nThough having fully before my eyes the labyrinth of imposture into which\nit would lead me, I thought of nothing but the chance of our being still\ntogether;\u2014in this hope, all pride, all philosophy was forgotten, and every\nthing seemed tolerable, but the prospect of losing her.\n\nThus resolved, it was with somewhat less reluctant feelings, that I now\nundertook, at the anxious desire of Alethe, to ascertain the site of that\nwell\u2010known mountain, in the neighbourhood of which the dwelling of the\nanchoret lay. We had already passed one or two stupendous rocks, which\nstood, detached, like fortresses, over the river\u2019s brink, and which, in\nsome degree, corresponded with the description on the leaf. So little was\nthere of life now stirring along the shores, that I had begun almost to\ndespair of any assistance from inquiry, when, on looking to the western\nbank, I saw a boatman among the sedges, towing his small boat, with some\ndifficulty, up the current. Hailing him, as we passed, I asked, \u201cWhere\nstands the Mountain of the Birds?\u201d\u2014and he had hardly time to answer,\npointing above our heads, \u201cThere,\u201d when we perceived that we were just\nthen entering into the shadow, which this mighty rock flings across the\nwhole of the flood.\n\nIn a few moments we had reached the mouth of the ravine, of which the\nMountain of the Birds forms one of the sides, and through which the scanty\ncanal from the Nile flows. At the sight of this chasm, in some of whose\ngloomy recesses\u2014if we had rightly interpreted the leaf\u2014the dwelling of the\nSolitary lay, our voices, at once, sunk into a low whisper, while Alethe\nlooked round upon me with a superstitious fearfulness, as if doubtful\nwhether I had not already disappeared from her side. A quick movement,\nhowever, of her hand towards the ravine, told too plainly that her purpose\nwas still unchanged. With my oars, therefore, checking the career of our\nboat, I succeeded, after no small exertion, in turning it out of the\ncurrent of the river, and steering into this bleak and stagnant canal.\n\nOur transition from life and bloom to the very depth of desolation, was\nimmediate. While the water and one side of the ravine lay buried in\nshadow, the white, skeleton\u2010like crags of the other stood aloft in the\npale glare of moonlight. The sluggish stream through which we moved,\nyielded sullenly to the oar, and the shriek of a few water\u2010birds, which we\nhad roused from their fastnesses, was succeeded by a silence, so dead and\nawful, that our lips seemed afraid to disturb it by a breath; and half\u2010\nwhispered exclamations, \u201cHow dreary!\u201d\u2014\u201cHow dismal!\u201d\u2014were almost the only\nwords exchanged between us.\n\nWe had proceeded for some time through this gloomy defile, when, at a\ndistance before us, among the rocks on which the moonlight fell, we\nperceived, upon a ledge but little elevated above the canal, a small hut\nor cave, which, from a tree or two planted around it, had some appearance\nof being the abode of a human being. \u201cThis, then,\u201d thought I, \u201cis the home\nto which Alethe is destined!\u201d\u2014A chill of despair came again over my heart,\nand the oars, as I gazed, lay motionless in my hands.\n\nI found Alethe, too, whose eyes had caught the same object, drawing closer\nto my side than she had yet ventured. Laying her hand agitatedly upon\nmine, \u201cWe must here,\u201d she said, \u201cpart for ever.\u201d I turned to her, as she\nspoke: there was a tenderness, a despondency in her countenance, that at\nonce saddened and inflamed my soul. \u201cPart!\u201d I exclaimed\npassionately,\u2014\u201cNo!\u2014the same God shall receive us both. Thy faith, Alethe,\nshall, from this hour, be mine, and I will live and die in this desert\nwith thee!\u201d\n\nHer surprise, her delight, at these words, was like a momentary delirium.\nThe wild, anxious smile, with which she looked into my face, as if to\nascertain whether she had, indeed, heard my words aright, bespoke a\nhappiness too much for reason to bear. At length the fulness of her heart\nfound relief in tears; and, murmuring forth an incoherent blessing on my\nname, she let her head fall languidly and powerlessly on my arm. The light\nfrom our boat\u2010fire shone upon her face. I saw her eyes, which she had\nclosed for a moment, again opening upon me with the same tenderness,\nand\u2014merciful Providence, how I remember that moment!\u2014was on the point of\nbending down my lips towards hers, when, suddenly, in the air above our\nheads, as if it came from heaven, there burst forth a strain from a choir\nof voices, that with its solemn sweetness filled the whole valley.\n\nBreaking away from my caress at these supernatural sounds, the maiden\nthrew herself trembling upon her knees, and, not daring to look up,\nexclaimed wildly, \u201cMy mother, oh my mother!\u201d\n\nIt was the Christian\u2019s morning hymn that we heard;\u2014the same, as I learned\nafterwards, that, on their high terrace at Memphis, Alethe had been often\ntaught by her mother to sing to the rising sun.\n\nScarcely less startled than my companion, I looked up, and, at the very\nsummit of the rock above us, saw a light, appearing to come from a small\nopening or window, through which also the sounds, that had appeared so\nsupernatural, issued. There could be no doubt, that we had now found\u2014if\nnot the dwelling of the anchoret\u2014at least, the haunt of some of the\nChristian brotherhood of these rocks, by whose assistance we could not\nfail to find the place of his retreat.\n\nThe agitation, into which Alethe had been thrown by the first burst of\nthat psalmody, soon yielded to the softening recollections which it\nbrought back; and a calm came over her brow, such as it had never before\nworn, since our meeting. She seemed to feel that she had now reached her\ndestined haven, and to hail, as the voice of heaven itself, those sounds\nby which she was welcomed to it.\n\nIn her tranquillity, however, I could not now sympathize. Impatient to\nknow all that awaited her and myself, I pushed our boat close to the base\nof the rock,\u2014directly under that lighted window on the summit, to find my\nway up to which was my first object. Having hastily received my\ninstructions from Alethe, and made her repeat again the name of the\nChristian whom we sought, I sprang upon the bank, and was not long in\ndiscovering a sort of rude stair\u2010way, cut out of the rock, but leading, I\nfound, by easy windings, up the steep.\n\nAfter ascending for some time, I arrived at a level space or ledge, which\nthe hand of labour had succeeded in converting into a garden, and which\nwas planted, here and there, with fig\u2010trees and palms. Around it, too, I\ncould perceive, through the glimmering light, a number of small caves or\ngrottos, into some of which, human beings might find entrance, while\nothers appeared no larger than the tombs of the Sacred Birds round Lake\nM\u0153ris.\n\nI was still, I found, but half\u2010way up the ascent to the summit, nor could\nperceive any further means of continuing my course, as the mountain from\nhence rose, almost perpendicularly, like a wall. At length, however, on\nexploring around, I discovered behind the shade of a sycamore a large\nladder of wood, resting firmly against the rock, and affording an easy and\nsecure ascent up the steep.\n\nHaving ascertained thus far, I again descended to the boat for\nAlethe,\u2014whom I found trembling already at her short solitude,\u2014and having\nled her up the steps to this quiet garden, left her safely lodged, amid\nits holy silence, while I pursued my way upward to the light on the rock.\n\nAt the top of the long ladder I found myself on another ledge or platform,\nsomewhat smaller than the first, but planted in the same manner, with\ntrees, and, as I could perceive by the mingled light of morning and the\nmoon, embellished with flowers. I was now near the summit;\u2014there remained\nbut another short ascent, and, as a ladder against the rock, as before,\nsupplied the means of scaling it, I was in a few minutes at the opening\nfrom which the light issued.\n\nI had ascended gently, as well from a feeling of awe at the whole scene,\nas from an unwillingness to disturb too rudely the rites on which I\nintruded. My approach was, therefore, unheard, and an opportunity, during\nsome moments, afforded me of observing the group within, before my\nappearance at the window was discovered.\n\nIn the middle of the apartment, which seemed once to have been a Pagan\noratory, there was an assembly of seven or eight persons, some male, some\nfemale, kneeling in silence round a small altar;\u2014while, among them, as if\npresiding over their ceremony, stood an aged man, who, at the moment of my\narrival, was presenting to one of the female worshippers an alabaster cup,\nwhich she applied, with much reverence, to her lips. On the countenance of\nthe venerable minister, as he pronounced a short prayer over her head,\nthere was an expression of profound feeling that showed how wholly he was\nabsorbed in that rite; and when she had drank of the cup,\u2014which I saw had\nengraven on its side the image of a head, with a glory round it,\u2014the holy\nman bent down and kissed her forehead.\n\nAfter this parting salutation, the whole group rose silently from their\nknees; and it was then, for the first time, that, by a cry of terror from\none of the women, the appearance of a stranger at the window was\ndiscovered. The whole assembly seemed startled and alarmed, except him,\nthat superior person, who, advancing from the altar, with an unmoved look,\nraised the latch of the door, which was adjoining to the window, and\nadmitted me.\n\nThere was, in this old man\u2019s features, a mixture of elevation and\nsweetness, of simplicity and energy, which commanded at once attachment\nand homage; and half hoping, half fearing to find in him the destined\nguardian of Alethe, I looked anxiously in his face, as I entered, and\npronounced the name \u201cMelanius!\u201d \u201cMelanius is my name, young stranger,\u201d he\nanswered; \u201cand whether in friendship or in enmity thou comest, Melanius\nblesses thee.\u201d Thus saying, he made a sign with his right hand above my\nhead, while, with involuntary respect, I bowed beneath the benediction.\n\n\u201cLet this volume,\u201d I replied, \u201canswer for the peacefulness of my\nmission,\u201d\u2014at the same time, placing in his hands the copy of the\nScriptures, which had been his own gift to the mother of Alethe, and which\nher child now brought as the credential of her claims on his protection.\nAt the sight of this sacred pledge, which he recognized instantly, the\nsolemnity that had marked his first reception of me softened into\ntenderness. Thoughts of other times seemed to pass through his mind, and\nas, with a sigh of recollection, he took the book from my hands, some\nwords on the outer leaf caught his eye. They were few,\u2014but contained,\nperhaps, the last wishes of the dying Theora, for as he eagerly read them\nover, I saw the tears in his aged eyes. \u201cThe trust,\u201d he said, with a\nfaltering voice, \u201cis sacred, and God will, I hope, enable his servant to\nguard it faithfully.\u201d\n\nDuring this short dialogue, the other persons of the assembly had\ndeparted\u2014being, as I afterwards learned, brethren from the neighbouring\nbank of the Nile, who came thus secretly before day\u2010break, to join in\nworshipping God. Fearful lest their descent down the rock might alarm\nAlethe, I hurried briefly over the few words of explanation that remained,\nand, leaving the venerable Christian to follow at his leisure, hastened\nanxiously down to rejoin the maiden.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. XVI.\n\n\nMelanius was among the first of those Christians of Egypt, who, after the\nrecent example of the hermit, Paul, renouncing all the comforts of social\nexistence, betook themselves to a life of contemplation in the desert.\nLess selfish, however, in his piety, than most of these ascetics, Melanius\nforgot not the world, in leaving it. He knew that man was not born to live\nwholly for himself; that his relation to human kind was that of the link\nto the chain, and that even his solitude should be turned to the advantage\nof others. In flying, therefore, from the din and disturbance of life, he\nsought not to place himself beyond the reach of its sympathies, but\nselected a retreat, where he could combine the advantage of solitude with\nthose opportunities of serving his fellow\u2010men, which a neighbourhood to\ntheir haunts would afford.\n\nThat taste for the gloom of subterranean recesses, which the race of\nMisraim inherit from their Ethiopian ancestors, had, by hollowing out all\nEgypt into caverns and crypts, furnished these Christian anchorets with a\nchoice of retreats. Accordingly, some found a shelter in the grottos of\nElethya;\u2014others, among the royal tombs of the Theba\u00efd. In the middle of\nthe Seven Valleys, where the sun rarely shines, a few have fixed their dim\nand melancholy retreat, while others have sought the neighbourhood of the\nred Lakes of Nitria, and there,\u2014like those Pagan solitaries of old, who\ndwelt among the palm\u2010trees near the Dead Sea,\u2014muse amid the sterility of\nnature, and seem to find, in her desolation, peace.\n\nIt was on one of the mountains of the Sa\u00efd, to the east of the river, that\nMelanius, as we have seen, chose his place of seclusion,\u2014between the life\nand fertility of the Nile on the one side, and the lone, dismal barrenness\nof the desert on the other. Half\u2010way down this mountain, where it impends\nover the ravine, he found a series of caves or grottos dug out of the\nrock, which had, in other times, ministered to some purpose of mystery,\nbut whose use had been long forgotten, and their recesses abandoned.\n\nTo this place, after the banishment of his great master, Origen, Melanius,\nwith a few faithful followers, retired, and, by the example of his\ninnocent life, no less than by his fervid eloquence, succeeded in winning\ncrowds of converts to his faith. Placed, as he was, in the neighbourhood\nof the rich city, Antino\u00eb, though he mingled not with its multitude, his\nname and his fame were among them, and, to all who sought instruction or\nconsolation, the cell of the hermit was ever open.\n\nNotwithstanding the rigid abstinence of his own habits, he was yet careful\nto provide for the comforts of others. Contented with a rude bed of straw,\nhimself, for the stranger he had always a less homely resting\u2010place. From\nhis grotto, the wayfaring and the indigent never went unrefreshed; and,\nwith the assistance of some of his brethren, he had formed gardens along\nthe ledges of the mountain, which gave an air of cheerfulness to his rocky\ndwelling, and supplied him with the chief necessaries of such a climate,\nfruit and shade.\n\nThough the acquaintance which he had formed with the mother of Alethe,\nduring the short period of her attendance at the school of Origen, was\nsoon interrupted, and never afterwards renewed, the interest which he had\nthen taken in her fate was too lively to be forgotten. He had seen the\nzeal with which her young heart welcomed instruction; and the thought that\nsuch a candidate for heaven should have relapsed into idolatry, came\noften, with disquieting apprehension, over his mind.\n\nIt was, therefore, with true pleasure, that, but a year or two before her\ndeath, he had learned, by a private communication from Theora, transmitted\nthrough a Christian embalmer of Memphis, that \u201cnot only her own heart had\ntaken root in the faith, but that a new bud had flowered with the same\ndivine hope, and that, ere long, he might see them both transplanted to\nthe desert.\u201d\n\nThe coming, therefore, of Alethe was far less a surprise to him, than her\ncoming thus alone was a shock and a sorrow; and the silence of their\nmeeting showed how deeply each remembered that the tie which had brought\nthem together was no longer of this world,\u2014that the hand, which should\nhave been joined with theirs, was in the tomb. I now saw that not even\nreligion was proof against the sadness of mortality. For, as the old man\nput the ringlets aside from her forehead, and contemplated in that clear\ncountenance the reflection of what her mother had been, there was a\nmournfulness mingled with his piety, as he said, \u201cHeaven rest her soul!\u201d\nwhich showed how little even the certainty of a heaven for those we love\ncan subdue our regret for having lost them on earth.\n\nThe full light of day had now risen upon the desert, and our host,\nreminded, by the faint looks of Alethe, of the many anxious hours we had\npassed without sleep, proposed that we should seek, in the chambers of the\nrock, such rest as the dwelling of a hermit could offer. Pointing to one\nof the largest openings, as he addressed me,\u2014\u201cThou wilt find,\u201d he said,\n\u201cin that grotto a bed of fresh doum leaves, and may the consciousness of\nhaving protected the orphan sweeten thy sleep!\u201d\n\nI felt how dearly this praise had been earned, and already almost repented\nof having deserved it. There was a sadness in the countenance of Alethe,\nas I took leave of her, to which the forebodings of my own heart but too\nfaithfully responded; nor could I help fearing, as her hand parted\nlingeringly from mine, that I had, by this sacrifice, placed her beyond my\nreach for ever.\n\nHaving lighted me a lamp, which, in these recesses, even at noon, is\nnecessary, the holy man led me to the entrance of the grotto;\u2014and here, I\nblush to say, my career of hypocrisy began. With the sole view of\nobtaining another glance at Alethe, I turned humbly to solicit the\nbenediction of the Christian, and, having conveyed to her, as I bent\nreverently down, as much of the deep feeling of my soul as looks could\nexpress, with a desponding spirit I hurried into the cavern.\n\nA short passage led me to the chamber within,\u2014the walls of which I found\ncovered, like those of the grottos of Lycopolis, with paintings, which,\nthough executed long ages ago, looked fresh as if their colours were but\nlaid on yesterday. They were, all of them, representations of rural and\ndomestic scenes; and, in the greater number, the melancholy imagination of\nthe artist had called Death in, as usual, to throw his shadow over the\npicture.\n\nMy attention was particularly drawn to one series of subjects, throughout\nthe whole of which the same group\u2014a youth, a maiden, and two aged persons,\nwho appeared to be the father and mother of the girl,\u2014were represented in\nall the details of their daily life. The looks and attitudes of the young\npeople denoted that they were lovers; and, sometimes, they were seen\nsitting under a canopy of flowers, with their eyes fixed on each other\u2019s\nfaces, as though they could never look away; sometimes, they appeared\nwalking along the banks of the Nile,\n\n      \u2014\u2014on one of those sweet nights\n  When Isis, the pure star of lovers, lights\n  Her bridal crescent o\u2019er the holy stream,\u2014\n  When wandering youths and maidens watch her beam,\n  And number o\u2019er the nights she hath to run,\n  Ere she again embrace her bridegroom sun.\n\nThrough all these scenes of endearment the two elder persons stood\nby;\u2014their calm countenances touched with a share of that bliss, in whose\nperfect light the young lovers were basking. Thus far, all was\nhappiness,\u2014but the sad lesson of mortality was to come. In the last\npicture of the series, one of the figures was missing. It was that of the\nyoung maiden, who had disappeared from among them. On the brink of a dark\nlake stood the three who remained; while a boat, just departing for the\nCity of the Dead, told too plainly the end of their dream of happiness.\n\nThis memorial of a sorrow of other times\u2014of a sorrow, ancient as death\nitself,\u2014was not wanting to deepen the melancholy of my mind, or to add to\nthe weight of the many bodings that pressed on it.\n\nAfter a night, as it seemed, of anxious and unsleeping thought, I rose\nfrom my bed and returned to the garden. I found the Christian\nalone,\u2014seated, under the shade of one of his trees, at a small table, with\na volume unrolled before him, while a beautiful antelope lay sleeping at\nhis feet. Struck forcibly by the contrast which he presented to those\nhaughty priests, whom I had seen surrounded by the pomp and gorgeousness\nof temples, \u201cIs this, then,\u201d thought I, \u201cthe faith, before which the world\ntrembles\u2014its temple the desert, its treasury a book, and its High Priest\nthe solitary dweller of the rock!\u201d\n\nHe had prepared for me a simple, but hospitable, repast, of which fruits\nfrom his own garden, the white bread of Olyra, and the juice of the honey\u2010\ncane were the most costly luxuries. His manner to me was even more cordial\nthan before; but the absence of Alethe, and, still more, the ominous\nreserve, with which he not only, himself, refrained from all mention of\nher name, but eluded the few inquiries, by which I sought to lead to it,\nseemed to confirm all the fears I had felt in parting from her.\n\nShe had acquainted him, it was evident, with the whole history of our\nflight. My reputation as a philosopher\u2014my desire to become a Christian\u2014all\nwas already known to the zealous Anchoret, and the subject of my\nconversion was the very first on which he entered. O pride of philosophy,\nhow wert thou then humbled, and with what shame did I stand, casting down\nmy eyes, before that venerable man, as, with ingenuous trust in the\nsincerity of my intention, he welcomed me to a participation of his holy\nhope, and imprinted the Kiss of Charity on my infidel brow!\n\nEmbarrassed as I felt by the consciousness of hypocrisy, I was even still\nmore perplexed by my total ignorance of the real tenets of the faith to\nwhich I professed myself a convert. Abashed and confused, and with a heart\nsick at its own deceit, I heard the animated and eloquent gratulations of\nthe Christian, as though they were words in a dream, without link or\nmeaning; nor could disguise but by the mockery of a reverential bow, at\nevery pause, the entire want of self\u2010possession, and even of speech, under\nwhich I laboured.\n\nA few minutes more of such trial, and I must have avowed my imposture. But\nthe holy man saw my embarrassment;\u2014and, whether mistaking it for awe, or\nknowing it to be ignorance, relieved me from my perplexity by, at once,\nchanging the theme. Having gently awakened his antelope from its sleep,\n\u201cYou have heard,\u201d he said, \u201cI doubt not, of my brother\u2010anchoret, Paul,\nwho, from his cave in the marble mountains, near the Red Sea, sends hourly\n\u2018the sacrifice of thanksgiving\u2019 to heaven. Of _his_ walks, they tell me, a\nlion is the companion; but, for me,\u201d he added, with a playful and\nsignificant smile, \u201cwho try my powers of taming but on the gentler\nanimals, this feeble child of the desert is a far fitter play\u2010mate.\u201d Then,\ntaking his staff, and putting the time\u2010worn volume which he had been\nreading into a large goat\u2010skin pouch, that hung by his side, \u201cI will now,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201clead thee over my rocky kingdom,\u2014that thou mayst see in what\ndrear and barren places, that \u2018fruit of the spirit,\u2019 Peace, may be\ngathered.\u201d\n\nTo speak of peace to a heart like mine, at that moment, was like talking\nof some distant harbour to the mariner sinking at sea. In vain did I look\nround for some sign of Alethe;\u2014in vain make an effort even to utter her\nname. Consciousness of my own deceit, as well as a fear of awakening in\nMelanius any suspicion that might frustrate my only hope, threw a fetter\nover my spirit and checked my tongue. In silence, therefore, I followed,\nwhile the cheerful old man, with slow, but firm, step, ascended the rock,\nby the same ladders which I had mounted on the preceding night.\n\nDuring the time when the Decian Persecution was raging, many Christians of\nthis neighbourhood, he informed me, had taken refuge under his protection,\nin these grottos; and the chapel on the summit, where I had found them at\nprayer, was, in those times of danger, their place of retreat, where, by\ndrawing up these ladders, they were enabled to secure themselves from\npursuit.\n\nFrom the top of the rock, the view, on either side, embraced the two\nextremes of fertility and desolation; nor could the Epicurean and the\nAnchoret, who now gazed from that height, be at any loss to indulge their\nrespective tastes, between the living luxuriance of the world on one side,\nand the dead repose of the desert on the other. When we turned to the\nriver, what a picture of animation presented itself! Near us, to the\nsouth, were the graceful colonnades of Antino\u00eb, its proud, populous\nstreets, and triumphal monuments. On the opposite shore, rich plains,\nteeming with cultivation to the water\u2019s edge, offered up, as from verdant\naltars, their fruits to the sun; while, beneath us, the Nile,\n\n            \u2014\u2014the glorious stream,\n  That late between its banks was seen to glide,\u2014\n  With shrines and marble cities, on each side,\n  Glittering, like jewels strung along a chain,\u2014\n  Had now sent forth its waters, and o\u2019er plain\n  And valley, like a giant from his bed\n  Rising with outstretch\u2019d limbs, superbly spread.\n\nFrom this scene, on one side of the mountain, we had but to turn round our\neyes, and it was as if nature herself had become suddenly extinct;\u2014a wide\nwaste of sands, bleak and interminable, wearying out the sun with its\nsameness of desolation;\u2014black, burnt\u2010up rocks, that stood as barriers, at\nwhich life stopped;\u2014while the only signs of animation, past or present,\nwere the foot\u2010prints, here and there, of an antelope or ostrich, or the\nbones of dead camels, as they lay whitening at a distance, marking out the\ntrack of the caravans over the waste.\n\nAfter listening, while he contrasted, in a few eloquent words, the two\nregions of life and death on whose confines we stood, I again descended\nwith my guide to the garden we had left. From thence, turning into a path\nalong the mountain\u2010side, he conducted me to another row of grottos, facing\nthe desert, which had once, he said, been the abode of those brethren in\nChrist, who had fled with him to this solitude from the crowded world,\u2014but\nwhich death had, within a few months, rendered tenantless. A cross of red\nstone, and a few faded trees, were the only traces these solitaries had\nleft behind.\n\nA silence of some minutes succeeded, while we descended to the edge of the\ncanal; and I saw opposite, among the rocks, that solitary cave, which had\nso chilled me with its aspect on the preceding night. By the bank we found\none of those rustic boats, which the Egyptians construct of planks of wild\nthorn, bound rudely together with bands of papyrus. Placing ourselves in\nthis boat, and rather impelling than rowing it across, we made our way\nthrough the foul and shallow flood, and landed directly under the site of\nthe cave.\n\nThis dwelling, as I have already mentioned, was situated upon a ledge of\nthe rock; and, being provided with a sort of window or aperture to admit\nthe light of heaven, was accounted, I found, more cheerful than the\ngrottos on the other side of the ravine. But there was a dreariness in the\nwhole region around, to which light only lent more horror. The dead\nwhiteness of the rocks, as they stood, like ghosts, in the sunshine;\u2014that\nmelancholy pool, half lost in the sands;\u2014all gave me the idea of a wasting\nworld. To dwell in such a place seemed to me like a living death; and when\nthe Christian, as we entered the cave, said, \u201cHere is to be thy home,\u201d\nprepared as I was for the worst, my resolution gave way;\u2014every feeling of\ndisappointed passion and humbled pride, which had been gathering round my\nheart for the last few hours, found a vent at once, and I burst into\ntears!\n\nWell accustomed to human weakness, and perhaps guessing at some of the\nsources of mine, the good Hermit, without appearing to notice this\nemotion, expatiated, with a cheerful air, on, what he called, the many\ncomforts of my dwelling. Sheltered, he said, from the dry, burning wind of\nthe south, my porch would inhale the fresh breeze of the Dog\u2010star. Fruits\nfrom his own mountain\u2010garden should furnish my repast. The well of the\nneighbouring rock would supply my beverage; and, \u201chere,\u201d he\ncontinued,\u2014lowering his voice into a more solemn tone, as he placed upon\nthe table the volume which he had brought,\u2014\u201chere, my son, is that \u2018well of\nliving waters,\u2019 in which alone thou wilt find lasting refreshment or\npeace!\u201d Thus saying, he descended the rock to his boat, and after a few\nplashes of his oar had died upon my ear, the solitude and silence around\nme was complete.\n\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XVII.\n\n\nWhat a fate was mine!\u2014but a few weeks since, presiding over that splendid\nFestival of the Garden, with all the luxuries of existence tributary in my\ntrain; and now,\u2014self\u2010humbled into a solitary outcast,\u2014the hypocritical\npupil of a Christian anchoret,\u2014without even the excuse of fanaticism, or\nof any other madness, but that of love, wild love, to extenuate my fall!\nWere there a hope that, by this humiliating waste of existence, I might\npurchase but a glimpse, now and then, of Alethe, even the depths of the\ndesert, with such a chance, would be welcome. But to live\u2014and live\nthus\u2014_without_ her, was a misery which I neither foresaw nor could endure.\n\nHating even to look upon the den to which I was doomed, I hurried out into\nthe air, and found my way, along the rocks, to the desert. The sun was\ngoing down, with that blood\u2010red hue, which he so frequently wears, in this\nclime, at his setting. I saw the sands, stretching out, like a sea, to the\nhorizon, as if their waste extended to the very verge of the world,\u2014and,\nin the bitterness of my feelings, rejoiced to see so much of creation\nrescued, even by this barren liberty, from the grasp of man. The thought\nseemed to relieve my wounded pride, and, as I wandered over the dim and\nboundless solitude, to be thus free, even amid blight and desolation,\nappeared a blessing.\n\nThe only living thing I saw was a restless swallow, whose wings were of\nthe hue of the grey sands over which he fluttered. \u201cWhy may not the mind,\nlike this bird, take the colour of the desert, and sympathise in its\nausterity, its freedom, and its calm?\u201d\u2014thus, between despondence and\ndefiance, did I ask myself, endeavouring to face with fortitude what yet\nmy heart sickened to contemplate. But the effort was unavailing. Overcome\nby that vast solitude, whose repose was not the slumber of peace, but the\nsullen and burning silence of hate, I felt my spirit give way, and even\nlove itself yield to despair.\n\nSeating myself on a fragment of a rock, and covering my eyes with my\nhands, I made an effort to shut out the overwhelming prospect. But in\nvain\u2014it was still before me, deepened by all that fancy could add; and\nwhen, again looking up, I saw the last red ray of the sun, shooting across\nthat melancholy and lifeless waste, it seemed to me like the light of the\ncomet that once desolated this world, shining out luridly over the ruin\nthat it had made!\n\nAppalled by my own gloomy imaginations, I turned towards the ravine; and,\nnotwithstanding the disgust with which I had left my dwelling, was not ill\npleased to find my way, over the rocks, to it again. On approaching the\ncave, to my astonishment, I saw a light within. At such a moment, any\nvestige of life was welcome, and I hailed the unexpected appearance with\npleasure. On entering, however, I found the chamber as lonely as I had\nleft it. The light came from a lamp that burned brightly on the table;\nbeside it was unfolded the volume which Melanius had brought, and upon the\nleaves\u2014oh, joy and surprise\u2014lay the well\u2010known cross of Alethe!\n\nWhat hand, but her own, could have prepared this reception for me?\u2014The\nvery thought sent a hope into my heart, before which all despondency fled.\nEven the gloom of the desert was forgotten, and my cave at once brightened\ninto a bower. She had here reminded me, herself, by this sacred memorial,\nof the vow which I had pledged to her under the Hermit\u2019s rock; and I now\nscrupled not to reiterate the same daring promise, though conscious that\nthrough hypocrisy alone I could fulfil it.\n\nEager to prepare myself for my task of imposture, I sat down to the\nvolume, which I now found to be the Hebrew Scriptures; and the first\nsentence, on which my eyes fell, was\u2014\u201cThe Lord hath commanded the\nblessing, even Life for evermore!\u201d Startled by these words, in which the\nSpirit of my dream seemed again to pronounce his assuring prediction, I\nraised my eyes from the page, and repeated the sentence over and over, as\nif to try whether the sounds had any charm or spell, to reawaken that\nfaded illusion in my soul. But, no\u2014the rank frauds of the Memphian\npriesthood had dispelled all my trust in the promises of religion. My\nheart had again relapsed into its gloom of scepticism, and, to the word of\n\u201cLife,\u201d the only answer it sent back was, \u201cDeath!\u201d\n\nImpatient, however, to possess myself of the elements of a faith, on\nwhich,\u2014whatever it might promise for hereafter,\u2014I felt that my happiness\nhere depended, I turned over the pages with an earnestness and avidity,\nsuch as never even the most favourite of my studies had awakened in me.\nThough, like all, who seek but the surface of learning, I flew desultorily\nover the leaves, lighting only on the more prominent and shining points, I\nyet found myself, even in this undisciplined career, arrested, at every\npage, by the awful, the supernatural sublimity, the alternate melancholy\nand grandeur of the images that crowded upon me.\n\nI had, till now, known the Hebrew theology but through the platonising\nrefinements of Philo;\u2014as, in like manner, for my knowledge of the\nChristian doctrine I was indebted to my brother Epicureans, Lucian and\nCelsus. Little, therefore, was I prepared for the simple majesty, the high\ntone of inspiration,\u2014the poetry, in short, of heaven that breathed\nthroughout these oracles. Could admiration have kindled faith, I should,\nthat night, have been a believer; so elevated, so awed was my imagination\nby that wonderful book,\u2014its warnings of woe, its announcements of glory,\nand its unrivalled strains of adoration and sorrow.\n\nHour after hour, with the same eager and desultory curiosity, did I turn\nover the leaves;\u2014and when, at length, I lay down to rest, my fancy was\nstill haunted by the impressions it had received. I went again through the\nvarious scenes of which I had read; again called up, in sleep, the bright\nimages that had charmed me, and, when wakened at day\u2010break by the Hymn\nfrom the chapel, fancied myself still listening to the sound of the winds,\nsighing mournfully through the harps of Israel on the willows.\n\nStarting from my bed, I hurried out upon the rock, with a hope that, among\nthe tones of that morning choir, I might be able to distinguish the sweet\nvoice of Alethe. But the strain had ceased;\u2014I caught only the last notes\nof the Hymn, as, echoing up that lonely valley, they died away into the\nsilence of the desert.\n\nWith the first glimpse of light I was again at my study, and,\nnotwithstanding the distraction both of my thoughts and looks towards the\nhalf\u2010seen grottos of the Anchoret, pursued it perseveringly through the\nday. Still alive, however, but to the eloquence, the poetry of what I\nread, of its connection or authenticity, as a history, I never paused to\nconsider. My fancy being alone interested by it, to fancy I referred all\nit contained; and, passing rapidly from annals to prophecy, from narration\nto song, regarded the whole but as a tissue of splendid allegories, in\nwhich the melancholy of Egyptian associations was interwoven with the rich\nimagery of the East.\n\nTowards sunset I saw the boat of Melanius on its way, across the canal, to\nmy cave. Though he had no other companion than his graceful antelope, that\nstood snuffing the wild air of the desert, as if scenting its home, I felt\nhis visit, even thus, to be a most welcome relief. It was the hour, he\nsaid, of his evening ramble up the mountain,\u2014of his accustomed visit to\nthose cisterns of the rock, from which he nightly drew his most precious\nbeverage. While he spoke, I observed in his hand one of those earthen\ncups, in which the inhabitants of the wilderness are accustomed to collect\nthe fresh dew among the rocks. Having proposed that I should accompany him\nin his walk, he led me, in the direction of the desert, up the side of the\nmountain that rose above my dwelling, and which formed the southern wall\nor screen of the defile.\n\nNear the summit we found a seat, where the old man paused to rest. It\ncommanded a full view over the desert, and was by the side of one of those\nhollows in the rock, those natural reservoirs, in which the dews of night\nare treasured up for the refreshment of the dwellers in the wilderness.\nHaving learned from me how far I had proceeded in my study, \u201cIn that\nlight,\u201d said he, pointing to a small cloud in the east, which had been\nformed on the horizon by the haze of the desert, and was now faintly\nreflecting the splendours of sunset,\u2014\u201cin that light stands Mount Sinai, of\nwhose glory thou hast read; on whose summit was the scene of one of those\nawful revelations, in which the Almighty has, from time to time, renewed\nhis communication with Man, and kept alive the remembrance of his own\nProvidence in this world.\u201d\n\nAfter a pause, as if absorbed in the immensity of the subject, the holy\nman continued his sublime theme. Looking back to the earliest annals of\ntime, he showed how constantly every relapse of the human race into\nidolatry has been followed by some manifestation of divine power,\nchastening the proud by punishment, and winning back the humble by love.\nIt was to preserve, he said, unextinguished upon earth, that vital\ntruth,\u2014the Creation of the world by one Supreme Being,\u2014that God chose,\nfrom among the nations, an humble and enslaved race;\u2014that he brought them\nout of their captivity \u201con eagles\u2019 wings,\u201d and, surrounding every step of\ntheir course with miracles, placed them before the eyes of all succeeding\ngenerations, as the depositaries of his will, and the ever\u2010during\nmemorials of his power.\n\nPassing, then, in review the long train of inspired interpreters, whose\npens and whose tongues were made the echoes of the Divine voice, he\ntraced(8), through the events of successive ages, the gradual unfolding of\nthe dark scheme of Providence\u2014darkness without, but all light and glory\nwithin. The glimpses of a coming redemption, visible even through the\nwrath of heaven;\u2014the long series of prophecy, through which this hope\nruns, burning and alive, like a spark through a chain;\u2014the merciful\npreparation of the hearts of mankind for the great trial of their faith\nand obedience that was at hand, not only by miracles that appealed to the\nliving, but by predictions launched into futurity to carry conviction to\nthe yet unborn;\u2014\u201cthrough all these glorious and beneficent gradations we\nmay track,\u201d said he, \u201cthe manifest footsteps of a Creator, advancing to\nhis grand, ultimate end, the salvation of his creatures.\u201d\n\nAfter some hours devoted to these holy instructions, we returned to the\nravine, and Melanius left me at my cave; praying, as he parted from\nme,\u2014with a benevolence I but ill, alas! deserved,\u2014that my soul, under\nthese lessons, might be \u201cas a watered garden,\u201d and, ere long, bear \u201cfruit\nunto life eternal.\u201d\n\nNext morning, I was again at my study, and even more eager in the task\nthan before. With the commentary of the Hermit freshly in my memory, I\nagain read through, with attention, the Book of the Law. But in vain did I\nseek the promise of immortality in its pages. \u201cIt tells me,\u201d said I, \u201cof a\nGod coming down to earth, but of the ascent of Man to heaven it speaks\nnot. The rewards, the punishments it announces, lie all on this side of\nthe grave; nor did even the Omnipotent offer to his own chosen servants a\nhope beyond the impassable limits of this world. Where, then, is the\nsalvation of which the Christian spoke? or, if Death be at the root of the\nfaith, can Life spring out of it!\u201d\n\nAgain, in the bitterness of disappointment, did I mock at my own willing\nself\u2010delusion,\u2014again rail at the arts of that traitress, Fancy, ever\nready, like the Delilah of this book, to steal upon the slumbers of\nReason, and deliver him up, shorn and powerless, to his foes. If\ndeception\u2014thought I, with a sigh\u2014be necessary, at least let me not\npractise it on myself;\u2014in the desperate alternative before me, let me\nrather be even hypocrite than dupe.\n\nThese self\u2010accusing reflections, cheerless as they rendered my task, did\nnot abate, for a single moment, my industry in pursuing it. I read on and\non, with a sort of sullen apathy, neither charmed by style, nor\ntransported by imagery,\u2014that fatal blight in my heart having communicated\nitself to my fancy and taste. The curses and the blessings, the glory and\nthe ruin, which the historian recorded and the prophet predicted, seemed\nall of this world,\u2014all, temporal and earthly. That mortality, of which the\nfountain\u2010head had tasted, tinged the whole stream; and when I read the\nwords, \u201call are of the dust, and all turn to dust again,\u201d a feeling, like\nthe wind of the desert, came witheringly over me. Love, Beauty, Glory,\nevery thing most bright upon earth, appeared sinking before my eyes, under\nthis dreadful doom, into one general mass of corruption and silence.\n\nPossessed by the image of desolation I had called up, I laid my head on\nthe book, in a paroxysm of despair. Death, in all his most ghastly\nvarieties, passed before me; and I had continued thus for some time, as\nunder the influence of a fearful vision, when the touch of a hand upon my\nshoulder roused me. Looking up, I saw the Anchoret standing by my\nside;\u2014his countenance beaming with that sublime tranquillity, which a\nhope, beyond this earth, alone can bestow. How I envied him!\n\nWe again took our way to the seat upon the mountain,\u2014the gloom in my own\nmind making every thing around me more gloomy. Forgetting my hypocrisy in\nmy feelings, I, at once, avowed to him all the doubts and fears which my\nstudy of the morning had awakened.\n\n\u201cThou art yet, my son,\u201d he answered, \u201cbut on the threshold of our faith.\nThou hast seen but the first rudiments of the Divine plan;\u2014its full and\nconsummate perfection hath not yet opened upon thee. However glorious that\nmanifestation of Divinity on Mount Sinai, it was but the forerunner of\nanother, still more glorious, that, in the fulness of time, was to burst\nupon the world; when all, that had seemed dim and incomplete, was to be\nperfected, and the promises, shadowed out by the \u2018spirit of prophecy,\u2019\nrealized;\u2014when the silence, that lay, as a seal, on the future, was to be\nbroken, and the glad tidings of life and immortality proclaimed to the\nworld!\u201d\n\nObserving my features brighten at these words, the pious man continued.\nAnticipating some of the holy knowledge that was in store for me, he\ntraced, through all its wonders and mercies, the great work of Redemption,\ndwelling on every miraculous circumstance connected with it;\u2014the exalted\nnature of the Being, by whose ministry it was accomplished, the noblest\nand first created of the Sons of God, inferior only to the one, self\u2010\nexistent Father;\u2014the mysterious incarnation of this heavenly\nmessenger;\u2014the miracles that authenticated his divine mission;\u2014the example\nof obedience to God and love to man, which he set, as a shining light,\nbefore the world for ever;\u2014and, lastly and chiefly, his death and\nresurrection, by which the covenant of mercy was sealed, and \u201clife and\nimmortality brought to light.\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch,\u201d continued the Hermit, \u201cwas the Mediator, promised through all\ntime, to \u2018make reconciliation for iniquity,\u2019 to change death into life,\nand bring \u2018healing on his wings\u2019 to a darkened world. Such was the last\ncrowning dispensation of that God of benevolence, in whose hands sin and\ndeath are but instruments of everlasting good, and who, through apparent\nevil and temporary retribution, bringing all things \u2018out of darkness into\nhis marvellous light,\u2019 proceeds watchfully and unchangingly to the great,\nfinal object of his providence,\u2014the restoration of the whole human race to\npurity and happiness!\u201d\n\nWith a mind astonished, if not touched, by these discourses, I returned to\nmy cave; and found the lamp, as before, ready lighted to receive me. The\nvolume which I had been reading was replaced by another, which lay open\nupon the table, with a branch of fresh palm between its leaves. Though I\ncould not have a doubt to whose gentle hand I was indebted for this\ninvisible superintendence over my studies, there was yet a something in\nit, so like spiritual interposition, that it awed me;\u2014and never more than\nat this moment, when, on approaching the volume, I saw, as the light\nglistened over its silver letters, that it was the very Book of Life of\nwhich the Hermit had spoken!\n\nThe orison of the Christians had sounded through the valley, before I\nraised my eyes from that sacred volume; and the second hour of the sun\nfound me again over its pages.\n\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XVIII.\n\n\nIn this mode of existence did I pass some days;\u2014my mornings devoted to\nreading, my nights to listening, under the canopy of heaven, to the holy\neloquence of Melanius. The perseverance with which I enquired, and the\nquickness with which I learned, soon succeeded in deceiving my benevolent\ninstructor, who mistook curiosity for zeal and knowledge for belief. Alas!\ncold, and barren, and earthly was that knowledge,\u2014the word, without the\nspirit, the shape, without the life. Even when, as a relief from\nhypocrisy, I persuaded myself that I believed, it was but a brief\ndelusion, a faith, whose hope crumbled at the touch,\u2014like the fruit of the\ndesert\u2010shrub, shining and empty!\n\nBut, though my soul was still dark, the good Hermit saw not into its\ndepths. The very facility of my belief, which might have suggested some\ndoubt of its sincerity, was but regarded by his innocent zeal, as a more\nsignal triumph of the truth. His own ingenuousness led him to a ready\ntrust in others; and the examples of such conversion as that of the\nphilosopher, Justin, who received the light into his soul during a walk by\nthe sea\u2010shore, had prepared him for illuminations of the spirit, even more\nrapid than mine.\n\nDuring this time, I neither saw nor heard of Alethe;\u2014nor could my patience\nhave endured so long a privation, had not those mute vestiges of her\npresence, that welcomed me every night on my return, made me feel that I\nwas still living under her gentle influence, and that her sympathy hung\nround every step of my progress. Once, too, when I ventured to speak her\nname to Melanius, though he answered not my enquiry, there was a smile, I\nthought, of promise upon his countenance, which love, more alive than\nfaith, interpreted as it wished.\n\nAt length,\u2014it was on the sixth or seventh evening of my solitude, when I\nlay resting at the door of my cave, alter the study of the day,\u2014I was\nstartled by hearing my name called loudly from the opposite rocks, and\nlooking up, saw, on the cliff near the deserted grottos, Melanius and\u2014oh,\nI could not doubt\u2014my Alethe by his side!\n\nThough I had never ceased, since the first night of my return from the\ndesert, to flatter myself with the fancy that I was still living in her\npresence, the actual sight of her again made me feel what an age we had\nbeen separated. She was clothed all in white, and, as she stood in the\nlast remains of the sunshine, appeared to my too prophetic fancy like a\nparting spirit, whose last footsteps on earth that glory encircled.\n\nWith a delight only to be imagined, I saw them descend the rocks, and\nplacing themselves in the boat, proceed towards my cave. To disguise from\nMelanius the feelings with which we met was impossible;\u2014nor did Alethe\neven attempt to make a secret of her innocent joy. Though blushing at her\nown happiness, she could as little conceal it, as the clear waters of\nEthiopia can hide their gold. Every look, too, every word, spoke a fulness\nof affection, to which, doubtful as I was of our tenure of happiness, I\nknew not how to answer.\n\nI was not long, however, left ignorant of the bright fate that awaited me;\nbut, as we wandered or rested among the rocks, learned every thing that\nhad been arranged since our parting. She had made the Hermit, I found,\nacquainted with all that had passed between us; had told him, without\nreserve, every incident of our voyage,\u2014the avowals, the demonstrations of\naffection on one side, and the deep sentiment that gratitude had awakened\non the other. Too wise to regard feelings, so natural, with\nseverity,\u2014knowing that they were of heaven, and but made evil by man,\u2014the\ngood Hermit had heard of our attachment with pleasure; and, proved as he\nthought the purity of my views had been, by the fidelity with which I had\ndelivered up my trust into his hands, saw, in my affection for the young\norphan, but a providential resource against that friendless solitude in\nwhich his death must soon leave her.\n\nAs I collected these particulars from their discourse, I could hardly\ntrust my ears. It seemed too much happiness to be real; nor can words give\nan idea of the joy\u2014the shame\u2014the wonder with which I listened, while the\nholy man himself declared, that he awaited but the moment, when he should\nfind me worthy of becoming a member of the Christian Church, to give me\nalso the hand of Alethe in that sacred union, which alone sanctifies love,\nand makes the faith, which it pledges, heavenly. It was but yesterday, he\nadded, that his young charge, herself, after a preparation of prayer and\nrepentance, such as even her pure spirit required, had been admitted, by\nthe sacred ordinance of baptism, into the bosom of the faith;\u2014and the\nwhite garment she wore, and the ring of gold on her finger, \u201cwere\nsymbols,\u201d he said, \u201cof that New Life into which she had been initiated.\u201d\n\nI raised my eyes to her as he spoke, but withdrew them again, dazzled and\nconfused. Even her beauty, to my imagination, seemed to have undergone\nsome brightening change; and the contrast between that open and happy\ncountenance, and the unblest brow of the infidel that stood before her,\nabashed me into a sense of unworthiness, and almost checked my rapture.\n\nTo that night, however, I look back, as an epoch in my existence. It\nproved that sorrow is not the only awakener of devotion, but that joy may\nsometimes call the holy spark into life. Returning to my cave, with a\nheart full, even to oppression, of its happiness, I knew no other relief\nto my overcharged feelings than that of throwing myself on my knees, and,\nfor the first time in my life, uttering a prayer, that if, indeed, there\nwere a Being who watched over mankind, he would send down one ray of his\ntruth into my soul, and make it worthy of the blessings, both here and\nhereafter, proffered to me!\n\nMy days now rolled on in a perfect dream of happiness. Every hour of the\nmorning was welcomed as bringing nearer and nearer the blest time of\nsunset, when the Hermit and Alethe never failed to pay their visit to my\nnow charmed cave, where her smile left a light, at each parting, that\nlasted till her return. Then, our rambles, by star\u2010light, over the\nmountain;\u2014our pauses, on the way, to contemplate the bright wonders of\nthat heaven above us;\u2014our repose by the cistern of the rock, and our\nsilent listening, through hours that seemed minutes, to the holy eloquence\nof our teacher;\u2014all, all was happiness of the most heartfelt kind, and\nsuch as even the doubts, the cold, lingering doubts, that still hung, like\na mist, around my heart, could neither cloud nor chill.\n\nWhen the moonlight nights returned, we used to venture into the desert;\nand those sands, which but lately had appeared to me so desolate, now wore\neven a cheerful and smiling aspect. To the light, innocent heart of Alethe\nevery thing was a source of enjoyment. For her, even the desert had its\njewels and flowers; and, sometimes, her delight was to search among the\nsands for those beautiful pebbles of jasper that abound in\nthem;\u2014sometimes, her eyes sparkled on finding, perhaps, a stunted\nmarigold, or one of those bitter, scarlet flowers, that lend their mockery\nof ornament to the desert. In all these pursuits and pleasures the good\nHermit took a share,\u2014mingling with them occasionally the reflections of a\nbenevolent piety, that lent its own cheerful hue to all the works of\ncreation, and saw the consoling truth \u201cGod is Love,\u201d written legibly every\nwhere.\n\nSuch was, for a few weeks, my blissful life. Oh mornings of hope, oh\nnights of happiness, with what mournful pleasure do I retrace your flight,\nand how reluctantly pass to the sad events that followed!\n\nDuring this time, in compliance with the wishes of Melanius, who seemed\nunwilling that I should become wholly estranged from the world, I\noccasionally paid a visit to the neighbouring city, Antino\u00eb, which, as the\ncapital of the Thebaid, is the centre of all the luxury of Upper Egypt.\nHere,\u2014so changed was my every feeling by the all\u2010transforming passion that\npossessed me,\u2014I wandered, unamused and uninterested by either the scenes\nor the people that surrounded me, and, sighing for that rocky solitude\nwhere Alethe breathed, felt _this_ to be the wilderness, and _that_, the\nworld.\n\nEven the thoughts of my own native Athens, that were called up, at every\nstep, by the light, Grecian architecture of this imperial city, did not\nawaken one single regret in my heart\u2014one wish to exchange even an hour of\nmy desert for the best luxuries and honours that awaited me in the Garden.\nI saw the arches of triumph;\u2014I walked under the superb portico, which\nencircles the whole city with its marble shade;\u2014I stood in the Circus of\nthe Sun, by whose rose\u2010coloured pillars the mysterious movements of the\nNile are measured;\u2014all these bright ornaments of glory and art, as well as\nthe gay multitude that enlivened them, I saw with an unheeding eye. If\nthey awakened in me any thought, it was the mournful idea, that, one day,\nlike Thebes and Heliopolis, this pageant would pass away, leaving nothing\nbehind but a few mouldering ruins,\u2014like the sea\u2010shells found where the\nocean has been,\u2014to tell that the great tide of Life was once there!\n\nBut, though indifferent thus to all that had formerly attracted me, there\nwere subjects, once alien to my heart, on which it was now most\ntremblingly alive; and some rumours which had reached me, in one of my\nvisits to the city, of an expected change in the policy of the Emperor\ntowards the Christians, filled me with apprehensions as new as they were\ndreadful to me.\n\nThe peace and even favour which the Christians enjoyed, during the first\nfour years of the reign of Valerian, had removed from them all fear of a\nrenewal of those horrors, which they had experienced under the rule of his\npredecessor, Decius. Of late, however, some less friendly dispositions had\nmanifested themselves. The bigots of the court, taking alarm at the spread\nof the new faith, had succeeded in filling the mind of the monarch with\nthat religious jealousy, which is the ever\u2010ready parent of cruelty and\ninjustice. Among these counsellors of evil was Macrianus, the Pr\u00e6torian\nPrefect, who was, by birth, an Egyptian, and\u2014so akin is superstition to\nintolerance\u2014had long made himself notorious by his addiction to the dark\npractices of demon\u2010worship and magic.\n\nFrom this minister, who was now high in the favour of Valerian, the\nexpected measures of severity against the Christians, it was supposed,\nwould emanate. All tongues, in all quarters, were busy with the news. In\nthe streets, in the public gardens, on the steps of the temples, I saw,\nevery where, groups of enquirers collected, and heard the name of\nMacrianus upon every tongue. It was dreadful, too, to observe, in the\ncountenances of those who spoke, the variety of feeling with which the\nrumour was discussed, according as they desired or dreaded its\ntruth,\u2014according as they were likely to be among the torturers or the\nvictims.\n\nAlarmed, though still ignorant of the whole extent of the danger, I\nhurried back to the ravine, and, going at once to the grotto of Melanius,\ndetailed to him every particular of the intelligence I had collected. He\nheard me with a composure, which I mistook, alas, for confidence in his\nsecurity; and, naming the hour for our evening walk, retired into his\ngrotto.\n\nAt the accustomed time Alethe and he were at my cave. It was evident that\nhe had not communicated to her the intelligence which I had brought, for\nnever did brow wear such a happiness as that which now played round\nhers;\u2014it was, alas, _not_ of this earth! Melanius, himself, though\ncomposed, was thoughtful; and the solemnity, almost approaching to\nmelancholy, with which he placed the hand of Alethe in mine\u2014in the\nperformance, too, of a ceremony that _ought_ to have filled my heart with\njoy\u2014saddened and alarmed me. This ceremony was our betrothment,\u2014the\nplighting of our faith to each other,\u2014which we now solemnized on the rock\nbefore the door of my cave, in the face of that sunset heaven, with its\none star standing as witness. After a blessing from the Hermit on our\nspousal pledge, I placed the ring,\u2014the earnest of our future union\u2014on her\nfinger, and, in the blush, with which she surrendered her whole heart to\nme at that instant, forgot every thing but my happiness, and felt secure,\neven against fate!\n\nWe took our accustomed walk over the rocks and on the desert. The moon was\nso bright,\u2014like the daylight, indeed, of other climes\u2014that we could see\nplainly the tracks of the wild antelopes in the sand; and it was not\nwithout a slight tremble of feeling in his voice, as if some melancholy\nanalogy occurred to him as he spoke, that the good Hermit said, \u201cI have\nobserved in my walks, that where\u2010ever the track of that gentle animal is\nseen, there is, almost always, the foot\u2010print of a beast of prey near it.\u201d\nHe regained, however, his usual cheerfulness before we parted, and fixed\nthe following evening for an excursion, on the other side of the ravine,\nto a point, looking, he said, \u201ctowards that northern region of the desert,\nwhere the hosts of the Lord encamped in their departure out of bondage.\u201d\n\nThough, in the presence of Alethe, my fears, even for herself, were\nforgotten in that perpetual element of happiness, which encircled her like\nthe air that she breathed, no sooner was I alone than vague terrors and\nbodings crowded upon me. In vain did I try to reason myself out of my\nfears by dwelling on the most cheering circumstances,\u2014the reverence with\nwhich Melanius was regarded, even by the Pagans, and the inviolate\nsecurity with which he had lived through the most perilous periods, not\nonly safe himself, but affording sanctuary in his grottos to others. When,\nsomewhat calmed by these considerations, I sunk off to sleep, dark,\nhorrible dreams took possession of my mind. Scenes of death and of torment\npassed confusedly before me, and, when I awoke, it was with the fearful\nimpression that all these horrors were real.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. XIX.\n\n\nAt length, the day dawned,\u2014that dreadful day. Impatient to be relieved\nfrom my suspense, I threw myself into my boat,\u2014the same in which we had\nperformed our happy voyage,\u2014and, as fast as oars could speed me, hurried\naway to the city. I found the suburbs silent and solitary, but, as I\napproached the Forum, loud yells, like those of barbarians in combat,\nstruck on my ear, and, when I entered it,\u2014great God, what a spectacle\npresented itself! The imperial edict against the Christians had arrived\nduring the night, and already the wild fury of bigotry was let loose.\n\nUnder a canopy, in the middle of the Forum, was the tribunal of the\nGovernor. Two statues, one of Apollo, the other of Osiris, stood at the\nbottom of the steps that led up to his judgment\u2010seat. Before these idols\nwere shrines, to which the devoted Christians were dragged from all\nquarters by the soldiers and mob, and there compelled to recant, by\nthrowing incense into the flame, or, on their refusal, hurried away to\ntorture and death. It was an appalling scene;\u2014the consternation, the cries\nof some of the victims,\u2014the pale, silent resolution of others;\u2014the fierce\nshouts of laughter that broke from the multitude, when the frankincense,\ndropped on the altar, proclaimed some denier of Christ; and the fiend\u2010like\ntriumph with which the courageous Confessors, who avowed their faith, were\nled away to the flames;\u2014never could I have conceived such an assemblage of\nhorrors!\n\nThough I gazed but for a few minutes, in those minutes I felt enough for\nyears. Already did the form of Alethe flit before me through that\ntumult;\u2014I heard them shout her name;\u2014her shriek fell on my ear; and the\nvery thought so palsied me with terror, that I stood fixed and statue\u2010like\non the spot.\n\nRecollecting, however, the fearful preciousness of every moment, and\nthat\u2014perhaps, at this very instant\u2014some emissaries of blood might be on\ntheir way to the grottos, I rushed wildly out of the Forum, and made my\nway to the quay.\n\nThe streets were now crowded; but I ran headlong through the multitude,\nand was already under the portico leading down to the river,\u2014already saw\nthe boat that was to bear me to Alethe,\u2014when a Centurion stood sternly in\nmy path, and I was surrounded and arrested by soldiers! It was in vain\nthat I implored, that I struggled with them as for life, assuring them\nthat I was a stranger,\u2014that I was an Athenian,\u2014that I was\u2014_not_ a\nChristian. The precipitation of my flight was sufficient evidence against\nme, and unrelentingly, and by force, they bore me away to the quarters of\ntheir Chief.\n\nIt was enough to drive me to madness! Two hours, two frightful hours, was\nI kept waiting the arrival of the Tribune of their Legion(9),\u2014my brain\nburning with a thousand fears and imaginations, which every passing minute\nmade more likely to be realised. Every thing, too, that I could collect\nfrom the conversations around me but added to the agonising apprehensions\nwith which I was racked. Troops, it was said, had been sent in all\ndirections through the neighbourhood, to bring in the rebellious\nChristians, and make them bow before the Gods of the Empire. With horror,\ntoo, I heard of Orcus,\u2014Orcus, the High Priest of Memphis,\u2014as one of the\nprincipal instigators of this sanguinary edict, and as here present in\nAntino\u00eb, animating and directing its execution.\n\nIn this state of torture I remained till the arrival of the Tribune.\nAbsorbed in my own thoughts, I had not perceived his entrance;\u2014till,\nhearing a voice, in a tone of friendly surprise, exclaim, \u201cAlciphron!\u201d I\nlooked up, and in this legionary Chief recognised a young Roman of rank,\nwho had held a military command, the year before, at Athens, and was one\nof the most distinguished visitors of the Garden. It was no time, however,\nfor courtesies;\u2014he was proceeding with cordiality to greet me, but, having\nheard him order my instant release, I could wait for no more.\nAcknowledging his kindness but by a grasp of the hand, I flew off, like\none frantic, through the streets, and, in a few minutes, was on the river.\n\nMy sole hope had been to reach the grottos before any of the detached\nparties should arrive, and, by a timely flight across the desert, rescue,\nat least, Alethe from their fury. The ill\u2010fated delay that had occurred\nrendered this hope almost desperate; but the tranquillity I found every\nwhere as I proceeded down the river, and the fond confidence I still\ncherished in the sacredness of the Hermit\u2019s retreat, kept my heart from\ngiving way altogether under its terrors.\n\nBetween the current and my oars, the boat flew, like wind, along the\nwaters; and I was already near the rocks of the ravine, when I saw,\nturning out of the canal into the river, a barge crowded with people, and\nglittering with arms! How did I ever survive the shock of that sight? The\noars dropped, as if struck out of my hands, into the water, and I sat,\nhelplessly gazing, as that terrific vision approached. In a few minutes,\nthe current brought us together;\u2014and I saw, on the deck of the barge,\nAlethe and the Hermit surrounded by soldiers!\n\nWe were already passing each other when, with a desperate effort, I sprang\nfrom my boat and lighted upon the edge of their vessel. I knew not what I\ndid, for despair was my only prompter. Snatching at the sword of one of\nthe soldiers, as I stood tottering on the edge, I had succeeded in\nwresting it out of his hands, when, at the same moment, I received a\nthrust of a lance from one of his comrades, and fell backward into the\nriver. I can just remember rising again and making a grasp at the side of\nthe vessel;\u2014but the shock, the faintness from my wound, deprived me of all\nconsciousness, and a shriek from Alethe, as I sunk, is all I can recollect\nof what followed.\n\nWould I had then died!\u2014Yet, no, Almighty Being,\u2014I should have died in\ndarkness, and I have lived to know Thee!\n\nOn returning to my senses, I found myself reclined on a couch, in a\nsplendid apartment, the whole appearance of which being Grecian, I, for a\nmoment, forgot all that had passed, and imagined myself in my own home at\nAthens. But too soon the whole dreadful certainty flashed upon me; and,\nstarting wildly\u2014disabled as I was\u2014from my couch, I called loudly, and with\nthe shriek of a maniac, on Alethe.\n\nI was in the house, I found, of my friend and disciple, the young Tribune,\nwho had made the Governor acquainted with my name and condition, and had\nreceived me under his roof, when brought, bleeding and insensible, to\nAntino\u00eb. From him I now learned at once,\u2014for I could not wait for\ndetails,\u2014the sum of all that had happened in that dreadful interval.\nMelanius was no more,\u2014Alethe, still alive, but in prison!\n\n\u201cTake me to her\u201d\u2014I had but time to say\u2014\u201ctake me to her instantly, and let\nme die by her side,\u201d\u2014when, nature again failing under such shocks, I\nrelapsed into insensibility. In this state I continued for near an hour,\nand, on recovering, found the Tribune by my side. The horrors, he said, of\nthe Forum were, for that day, over,\u2014but what the morrow might bring, he\nshuddered to contemplate. His nature, it was plain, revolted from the\ninhuman duties in which he was engaged. Touched by the agonies he saw me\nsuffer, he, in some degree, relieved them, by promising that I should, at\nnight\u2010fall, be conveyed to the prison, and, if possible, through his\ninfluence, gain access to Alethe. She might yet, he added, be saved, could\nI succeed in persuading her to comply with the terms of the edict, and\nmake sacrifice to the Gods.\u2014\u201cOtherwise,\u201d said he, \u201cthere is no hope;\u2014the\nvindictive Orcus, who has resisted even this short respite of mercy, will,\nto\u2010morrow, inexorably demand his prey.\u201d\n\nHe then related to me, at my own request,\u2014though every word was\ntorture,\u2014all the harrowing details of the proceeding before the Tribunal.\n\u201cI have seen courage,\u201d said he, \u201cin its noblest forms, in the field; but\nthe calm intrepidity with which that aged Hermit endured torments\u2014which it\nwas hardly less torment to witness\u2014surpassed all that I could have\nconceived of human fortitude!\u201d\n\nMy poor Alethe, too,\u2014in describing to me her conduct, the brave man wept\nlike a child. Overwhelmed, he said, at first by her apprehensions for my\nsafety, she had given way to a full burst of womanly weakness. But no\nsooner was she brought before the Tribunal, and the declaration of her\nfaith was demanded of her, than a spirit almost supernatural seemed to\nanimate her whole form. \u201cShe raised her eyes,\u201d said he, \u201ccalmly, but with\nfervour, to heaven, while a blush was the only sign of mortal feeling on\nher features;\u2014and the clear, sweet, and untrembling voice, with which she\npronounced her dooming words, \u2018I am a Christian!\u2019 sent a thrill of\nadmiration and pity throughout the multitude. Her youth, her loveliness,\naffected all hearts, and a cry of \u2018Save the young maiden!\u2019 was heard in\nall directions.\u201d\n\nThe implacable Orcus, however, would not hear of mercy. Resenting, as it\nappeared, with all his deadliest rancour, not only her own escape from his\ntoils, but the aid with which, so fatally to his views, she had assisted\nmine, he demanded loudly, and in the name of the insulted sanctuary of\nIsis, her instant death. It was but by the firm intervention of the\nGovernor, who shared the general sympathy in her fate, that the delay of\nanother day was accorded, to give a chance to the young maiden of yet\nrecalling her confession, and thus affording some pretext for saving her.\n\nEven in yielding reluctantly to this brief respite, the inhuman Priest\nwould accompany it with some mark of his vengeance. Whether for the\npleasure (observed the Tribune) of mingling mockery with his cruelty, or\nas a warning to her of the doom she must ultimately expect, he gave orders\nthat there should be tied round her brow one of those chaplets of\ncoral(10), with which it is the custom of young Christian maidens to array\nthemselves on the day of their martyrdom;\u2014\u201cand, thus fearfully adorned,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cshe was led away, amid the gaze of the pitying multitude, to\nprison.\u201d\n\nWith these details the short interval till night\u2010fall,\u2014every minute of\nwhich seemed an age,\u2014was occupied. As soon as it grew dark, I was placed\nupon a litter,\u2014my wound, though not dangerous, requiring such a\nconveyance,\u2014and conducted, under the guidance of my friend, to the prison.\nThrough his interest with the guard, we were without difficulty admitted,\nand I was borne into the chamber where the maiden lay immured. Even the\nveteran guardian of the place seemed touched with compassion for his\nprisoner, and supposing her to be asleep, had the litter placed gently\nnear her.\n\nShe was half reclining, with her face hid in her hands, upon a couch,\u2014at\nthe foot of which stood an idol, over whose hideous features a lamp of\nnaptha, hanging from the ceiling, shed a wild and ghastly glare. On a\ntable before the image stood a censer, with a small vessel of incense\nbeside it,\u2014one grain of which, thrown voluntarily into the flame, would,\neven now, save that precious life. So strange, so fearful was the whole\nscene, that I almost doubted its reality. Alethe! my own, happy Alethe!\n_can_ it, I thought, be thou that I look upon?\n\nShe now, slowly and with difficulty, raised her head from the couch; on\nobserving which, the kind Tribune withdrew, and we were left alone. There\nwas a paleness, as of death, over her features; and those eyes, which when\nlast I saw them, were but too bright, too happy for this world, looked dim\nand sunken. In raising herself up, she put her hand, as if from pain, to\nher forehead, whose marble hue but appeared more death\u2010like from those red\nbands that lay so awfully across it.\n\nAfter wandering vaguely for a minute, her eyes rested upon me,\u2014and, with a\nshriek, half terror, half joy, she sprung from the couch, and sunk upon\nher knees by my side. She had believed me dead; and, even now, scarcely\ntrusted her senses. \u201cMy husband! my love!\u201d she exclaimed; \u201coh, if thou\ncomest to call me from this world, behold I am ready!\u201d In saying thus, she\npointed wildly to that ominous wreath, and then dropped her head down upon\nmy knee, as if an arrow had pierced it.\n\n\u201cAlethe!\u201d\u2014I cried, terrified to the very soul by that mysterious pang,\u2014and\nthe sound of my voice seemed to reanimate her;\u2014she looked up, with a faint\nsmile, in my face. Her thoughts, which had evidently been wandering,\nbecame collected; and in her joy at my safety, her sorrow at my suffering,\nshe forgot wholly the fate that impended over herself. Love, innocent\nlove, alone occupied all her thoughts; and the tenderness with which she\nspoke,\u2014oh, at any other moment, how I would have listened, have lingered\nupon, have blessed every word!\n\nBut the time flew fast\u2014the dreadful morrow was approaching. Already I saw\nher writhing in the hands of the torturer,\u2014the flames, the racks, the\nwheels were before my eyes! Half frantic with the fear that her resolution\nwas fixed, I flung myself from the litter, in an agony of weeping, and\nsupplicated her, by the love she bore me, by the happiness that awaited\nus, by her own merciful God, who was too good to require such a\nsacrifice,\u2014by all that the most passionate anxiety could dictate, I\nimplored that she would avert from us the doom that was coming, and\u2014but\nfor once\u2014comply with the vain ceremony demanded of her.\n\nShrinking from me, as I spoke,\u2014but with a look more of sorrow than\nreproach,\u2014\u201cWhat, thou, too!\u201d she said mournfully,\u2014\u201cthou, into whose spirit\nI had fondly hoped the same heavenly truth had descended as into my own!\nOh, be not thou leagued with those who would tempt me to \u2018make shipwreck\nof my faith!\u2019 Thou, who couldst alone bind me to life, use not thy power;\nbut let me die, as He I serve hath commanded,\u2014die for the Truth. Remember\nthe holy lessons we heard on those nights, those happy nights, when both\nthe Present and Future smiled upon us,\u2014when even the gift of eternal life\ncame more welcome to my soul, from the blessed conviction that thou wert\nto be a sharer in it;\u2014shall I forfeit now that divine privilege? shall I\ndeny the true God, whom we then learned to love?\n\n\u201cNo, my own betrothed,\u201d she continued,\u2014pointing to the two rings on her\nfinger,\u2014\u201cbehold these pledges,\u2014they are both sacred. I should have been as\ntrue to thee as I am now to heaven,\u2014nor in that life to which I am\nhastening shall our love be forgotten. Should the baptism of fire, through\nwhich I shall pass to\u2010morrow, make me worthy to be heard before the Throne\nof Grace, I will intercede for thy soul\u2014I will pray that it may yet share\nwith mine that \u2018inheritance, immortal and undefiled,\u2019 which Mercy offers,\nand that thou,\u2014my dear mother,\u2014and I\u2014\u201d\n\nShe here dropped her voice; the momentary animation, with which devotion\nand affection had inspired her, vanished;\u2014and a darkness overspread all\nher features, a livid darkness,\u2014like the coming of death\u2014that made me\nshudder through every limb. Seizing my hand convulsively, and looking at\nme with a fearful eagerness, as if anxious to hear some consoling\nassurance from my own lips,\u2014\u201cBelieve me,\u201d she continued, \u201cnot all the\ntorments they are preparing for me,\u2014not even this deep, burning pain in my\nbrow, which they will hardly equal,\u2014could be half so dreadful to me, as\nthe thought that I leave thee\u2014\u201d\n\nHere, her voice again failed; her head sunk upon my arm, and\u2014merciful God,\nlet me forget what I then felt,\u2014I saw that she was dying! Whether I\nuttered any cry, I know not;\u2014but the Tribune came rushing into the\nchamber, and, looking on the maiden, said, with a face full of horror, \u201cIt\nis but too true!\u201d\n\nHe then told me in a low voice, what he had just learned from the guardian\nof the prison, that the band round the young Christian\u2019s brow was\u2014oh\nhorrible cruelty!\u2014a compound of the most deadly poison,\u2014the hellish\ninvention of Orcus, to satiate his vengeance, and make the fate of his\npoor victim secure. My first movement was to untie that fatal wreath,\u2014but\nit would not come away\u2014it would not come away!\n\nRoused by the pain, she again looked in my face; but, unable to speak,\ntook hastily from her bosom the small silver cross which she had brought\nwith her from my cave. Having prest it to her own lips, she held it\nanxiously to mine, and seeing me kiss the holy symbol with fervour, looked\nhappy, and smiled. The agony of death seemed to have passed away;\u2014there\ncame suddenly over her features a heavenly light, some share of which I\nfelt descending into my own soul, and, in a few minutes more, she expired\nin my arms.\n\n                  \u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\u2010\n\n_Here ends the Manuscript; but, on the outer cover there is, in the hand\u2010\nwriting of a much later period, the following Notice, extracted, as it\nappears, from some Egyptian martyrology:\u2014_\n\n\u201cAlciphron,\u2014an Epicurean philosopher, converted to Christianity A. D. 257,\nby a young Egyptian maiden, who suffered martyrdom in that year.\nImmediately upon her death he betook himself to the desert, and lived a\nlife, it is said, of much holiness and penitence. During the persecution\nunder Dioclesian, his sufferings for the faith were most exemplary; and,\nbeing at length, at an advanced age, condemned to hard labour, for\nrefusing to comply with an Imperial edict, he died at the brass mines of\nPalestine, A. D. 297.\u2014\n\n\u201cAs Alciphron held the opinions maintained since by Arius, his memory has\nnot been spared by Athanasian writers, who, among other charges, accuse\nhim of having been addicted to the superstitions of Egypt. For this\ncalumny, however, there appears to be no better foundation than a\ncircumstance, recorded by one of his brother monks, that there was found,\nafter his death, a small metal mirror, like those used in the ceremonies\nof Isis, suspended round his neck.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                  NOTES.\n\n\nPage 17.\u2014For the importance attached to dreams by the ancients, see\n_Jortin_, Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, vol. 1. p. 90.\n\n\nPage 22.\u2014\u201c_The Pillar of Pillars_\u201d\u2014more properly, perhaps, \u201cthe column of\nthe pillars.\u201d v. _Abdallatif_, Relation de l\u2019Egypte, and the notes of _M.\nde Sacy_. The great portico round this column (formerly designated\nPompey\u2019s, but now known to have been erected in honour of Dioclesian) was\nstill standing, M. de Sacy says, in the time of Saladin. v. _Lord\nValentia\u2019s Travels_.\n\n\nPage 23.\u2014Ammianus thus speaks of the state of Alexandria in his time,\nwhich was, I believe, as late as the end of the fourth century:\u2014\u201cNe nunc\nquidem in eadem urbe Doctrin\u00e6 vari\u00e6 silent, non apud nos exaruit Musica\nnec Harmonia conticuit.\u201d Lib. 22.\n\n\nPage 25.\u2014From the character of the features of the Sphinx, and a passage\nin Herodotus, describing the Egyptians as _\u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03b5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03c2_,\nVolney, Bruce, and a few others, have concluded that the ancient\ninhabitants of Egypt were negroes. But this opinion is contradicted by a\nhost of authorities. See _Castera_\u2019s notes upon _Browne\u2019s Travels_, for\nthe result of Blumenbach\u2019s dissection of a variety of mummies. Denon,\nspeaking of the character of the heads represented in the ancient\nsculpture and painting of Egypt, says, \u201cCelle des femmes ressemble encore\n\u00e0 la figure des jolies femmes d\u2019aujourd\u2019hui: de la rondeur, de la volupt\u00e9,\nle nez petit, les yeux longs, peu ouverts,\u201d &c. &c. He could judge, too,\nhe says, from the female mummies, \u201cque leurs cheveux \u00e9toient longs et\nlisses, que le caract\u00e8re de t\u00eate de la plupart tenoit du beau style\u201d\u2014\u201cJe\nraportai,\u201d he adds, \u201cune t\u00eate de vieille femme qui \u00e9toit aussi belle que\ncelles de Michel Ange, et leur ressembloit beaucoup.\u201d\n\nIn a \u201c_Description g\u00e9n\u00e9rale de Th\u00e8bes_\u201d by _Messrs. Jollois et\nDesvilliers_, they say, \u201cToutes les sculptures Egyptiennes, depuis les\nplus grands colosses de Th\u00e8bes jusqu\u2019aux plus petites idoles, ne\nrappellent en aucune mani\u00e8re les traits de la figure des n\u00e8gres; outre que\nles t\u00eates des momies des catacombs de Th\u00e8bes presentent des profils\ndroits.\u201d See also _M. Jomard_\u2019s \u201cDescription of Syene and the Cataracts,\u201d\n_Baron Larrey_, on the \u201cconformation physique\u201d of the Egyptians, &c.\n\nDe Pauw, the great depreciator of every thing Egyptian, has, on the\nauthority of a passage in \u00c6lian, presumed to affix to the countrywomen of\nCleopatra the stigma of complete and unredeemed ugliness. The following\nline of Euripides, however, is an answer to such charges:\u2014\n\n  _\u039d\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u1f31\u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c1\u03bf\u03b1\u03b9._\n\nIn addition to the celebrated instances of Cleopatra, Rhodope, &c. we are\ntold, on the authority of Manetho (as given by Zoega from Georgius\nSyncellus), of a beautiful queen of Memphis, Nitocris, of the sixth\ndynasty, who, in addition to other charms and perfections, was (rather\ninconsistently with the negro hypothesis) _\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd_.\n\nSee, for a tribute to the beauty of the Egyptian women, Montesquieu\u2019s\nTemple de Gnide.\n\n\nPage 35.\u2014\u201c_Among beds of lotus flowers._\u201d\u2014v. _Strabo_.\n\n\nPage 36.\u2014\u201c_Isle of the golden Venus._\u201d\u2014\u201cOn trouve une \u00eele appel\u00e9e Venus\u2010\nDor\u00e9e, ou le champ d\u2019or, avant de remonter jusqu\u2019\u00e0 Memphis.\u201d _Voyages de\nPythagore._\n\n\nPage 39.\u2014For an account of the Table of Emerald, v. _Lettres sur l\u2019Origine\ndes Dieux d\u2019Egypte_. _De Pauw_ supposes it to be a modern fiction of the\nArabs. Many writers have fancied that the art of making gold was the great\nsecret that lay hid under the forms of Egyptian theology. \u201cLa science\nHerm\u00e9tique,\u201d says the Benedictine, Pernetz, \u201cl\u2019art sacerdotal \u00e9toit la\nsource de toutes les richesses des Rois d\u2019Egypte, et l\u2019objet de ces\nmyst\u00e8res si cach\u00e9s sous le voile du leur pretendu Religion.\u201d _Fables\nEgyptiennes._ The hieroglyphs, that formerly covered the Pyramids, are\nsupposed by some of these writers to relate to the same art. See _Mutus\nliber, Rupell\u00e6_.\n\n\nPage 40.\u2014\u201cBy reflecting the sun\u2019s rays,\u201d says _Clarke_, speaking of the\nPyramids, \u201cthey appeared white as snow.\u201d\n\n\nPage 41.\u2014For Bubastis, the Diana of the Egyptians, v. _Jablonski_, lib. 3.\nc. 4.\n\n\nPage 43.\u2014\u201c_The light coracle_,\u201d _&c._\u2014v. _Amuilhon_, \u201c_Histoire de la\nNavigation et du Commerce des Egyptiens sous les Ptolem\u00e9es_.\u201d See also,\nfor a description of the various kinds of boats used on the Nile,\n_Maillet_, tom. i. p. 98.\n\n\nPage 44.\u2014v. _Maurice_, Appendix to \u201cRuins of Babylon.\u201d Another reason, he\nsays, for their worship of the Ibis, \u201cfounded on their love of geometry,\nwas (according to Plutarch) that the space between its legs, when parted\nasunder, as it walks, together with its beak, forms a complete equilateral\ntriangle.\u201d From the examination of the embalmed birds, found in the\nCatacombs of Saccara, there seems to be no doubt that the Ibis was the\nsame kind of bird as that described by Bruce, under the Arabian name of\nAbou Hannes.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_The sistrum_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cIsis est genius,\u201d says _Servius_, \u201c\u00c6gypti, qui\nper sistri motum, quod gerit in dextra, Nili accessus recessusque\nsignificat.\u201d\n\n\nPage 48.\u2014\u201c_The ivy encircled it_,\u201d _&c._\u2014The ivy was consecrated to\nOsiris. v. _Diodor. Sic._ 1. 10.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_The small mirror._\u201d\u2014\u201cQuelques unes,\u201d says _Dupuis_, describing the\nprocessions of Isis, \u201cportoient des miroirs attach\u00e9s \u00e0 leurs \u00e9paules, afin\nde multiplier et de porter dans tous les sens les images de la D\u00e9esse.\u201d\n_Origine des Cultes_, tom. 8. p. 847. A mirror, it appears, was also one\nof the emblems in the mysteries of Bacchus.\n\n\nPage 49.\u2014\u201c_There__ is, to the north of Memphis_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cTout prouve que\nla territoire de Sakkarah \u00e9toit la Necropolis au sud de Memphis, et le\nfaubourg oppos\u00e9 \u00e0 celui\u2010ci, o\u00f9 sont les pyramides de Gizeh, une autre\nVille des Morts, qui terminoit Memphis au nord.\u201d _Denon._\n\nThere is nothing known with certainty as to the site of Memphis, but it\nwill be perceived that the description of its position given by the\nEpicurean corresponds, in almost every particular, with that which M.\nMaillet (the French consul, for many years, at Cairo) has left us. It must\nbe always borne in mind, too, that of the distances between the respective\nplaces here mentioned, we have no longer any accurate means of judging.\n\n\nPage 49.\u2014\u201c_Pyramid beyond pyramid._\u201d\u2014\u201cMultas olim pyramidas fuisse e\nruinis arguitur.\u201d _Zoega._\u2014_Vansleb_, who visited more than ten of the\nsmall pyramids, is of opinion that there must have originally been a\nhundred in this place.\n\nSee, for the lake to the northward of Memphis, _Shaw\u2019s Travels_, p. 302.\n\n\nPage 57.\u2014\u201c_The Theban beetle._\u201d\u2014\u201cOn voit en Egypte, apr\u00e8s la retraite du\nNil et la f\u00e9condation des terres, le limon couvert d\u2019une multitude de\nscarab\u00e9es. Un pareil ph\u00e9nom\u00e8ne a d\u00fb sembler aux Egyptiens le plus propre \u00e0\npeindre une nouvelle existence.\u201d _M. Jomard._\u2014Partly for the same reason,\nand partly for another, still more fanciful, the early Christians used to\napply this emblem to Christ. \u201cBonus ille scarab\u00e6us meus,\u201d says St.\nAugustine \u201cnon e\u00e2 tantum de caus\u00e2 quod unigenitus, quod ipsemet sui auctor\nmortalium speciem induerit, sed quod in hac nostr\u00e2 f\u00e6ce sese volutaverit\net ex hac ipsa nasci voluerit.\u201d\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Enshrined within a case of crystal._\u201d\u2014\u201cLes Egyptiens ont fait aussi,\npour conserver leurs morts, des caisses de verre.\u201d _De Pauw._\u2014He mentions,\nin another place, a sort of transparent substance, which the Ethiopians\nused for the same purpose, and which was frequently mistaken by the Greeks\nfor glass.\n\n\nPage 58.\u2014\u201c_Among the emblems of death._\u201d\u2014\u201cUn pr\u00eatre, qui brise la tige\nd\u2019une fleur, des oiseaux qui s\u2019envolent sont les emblemes de la morte et\nde l\u2019\u00e2me qui se s\u00e9pare du corps.\u201d _Denon._\n\nTheseus employs the same image in the Ph\u00e6dra:\u2014\n\n  _\u039f\u03c1\u03bd\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u1f61\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03ba \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9_\n  _\u03a0\u03b7\u03b4\u03b7\u03bc\u2019 \u03b5\u03c2 \u1f01\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03b9\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u1f41\u03c1\u03bc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9._\n\n\nPage 59.\u2014\u201cThe singular appearance of a Cross so frequently recurring among\nthe hieroglyphics of Egypt, had excited the curiosity of the Christians at\na very early period of ecclesiastical history; and as some of the Priests,\nwho were acquainted with the meaning of the hieroglyphics, became\nconverted to Christianity the secret transpired. \u2018The converted heathens,\u2019\nsays Socrates Scholasticus, \u2018explained the symbol, and declared that it\nsignified Life to Come.\u2019\u201d _Clarke._\n\nLipsius, therefore, erroneously supposes the Cross to have been an emblem\npeculiar to the Christians. See, on this subject, _L\u2019Histoire des Juifs_,\nliv. 9. c. 16.\n\nIt is singular enough that while the Cross was held sacred among the\nEgyptians, not only the custom of marking the forehead with the sign of\nthe Cross, but Baptism and the consecration of the bread in the Eucharist\nwere imitated in the mysterious ceremonies of Mithra. _Tertull. de\nProscriptione Hereticorum._\n\nZoega is of opinion that the Cross found (for the first time, it is said)\non the destruction of the temple of Serapis, by the Christians, could have\nnot been the crux ansata; as nothing is more common than this emblem on\nall the Egyptian monuments.\n\n\nPage 62.\u2014\u201c_Stood shadowless._\u201d\u2014It was an idea entertained among the\nancients that the Pyramids were so constructed (\u201cmecanic\u00e2 constructione,\u201d\nsays _Ammianus Marcellinus_) as never to cast any shadow.\n\n\nPage 64.\u2014\u201c_Rhodope._\u201d\u2014From the story of Rhodope, Zoega thinks, \u201cvidentur\nArabes ansam arripuisse ut in una ex pyramidibus, genii loco, habitare\ndicerent mulierem nudam insignis pulchritudinis qu\u00e6 aspectu suo homines\ninsanire faciat.\u201d _De Usu Obeliscorum._ See also _L\u2019Egypte de Murtadi par\nVattier_.\n\n\nPage 66.\u2014\u201c_The Gates of Oblivion._\u201d\u2014\u201cApud Memphim \u00e6neas quasdam portas,\nqu\u00e6 Lethes et Cocyti (hoc est oblivionis et lamentationis) appellenter\naperiri, gravem asperumque edentes sonum.\u201d _Zoega._\n\n\nPage 69.\u2014\u201c_A pile of lifeless bodies._\u201d\u2014See, for the custom of burying the\ndead upright (\u201cpost funus stantia busto corpora,\u201d as Statius describes\nit), Dr. Clarke\u2019s preface to the 2d section of his fifth volume. They used\nto insert precious stones in the place of the eyes. \u201cLes yeux \u00e9toient\nform\u00e9s d\u2019\u00e9meraudes, de turquoises,\u201d &c.\u2014v. _Masoudy_, quoted by\n_Quatremere_.\n\n\nPage 72.\u2014\u201c_It seemed as if every echo._\u201d\u2014See, for the echoes in the\npyramids, _Plutarch, de Placitis Philosoph._\n\n\nPage 74.\u2014\u201c_Pale phantom\u2010like shapes._\u201d\u2014\u201cCe moment heureux (de l\u2019Autopsie)\n\u00e9toit prepar\u00e9 par des sc\u00e8nes effrayantes, par des alternatives de crainte\net de joie, de lumi\u00e8re et des t\u00e9n\u00e8bres, par la lueur des \u00e9clairs, par le\nbruit terrible de la foudre, qu\u2019on imitoit, et par des apparitions de\nspectres, des illusions magiques, qui frappoient les yeux et les oreilles\ntout ensemble.\u201d _Dupuis._\n\n\nPage 77.\u2014\u201c_Serpents of fire._\u201d\u2014\u201cCes consid\u00e9rations me portent \u00e0 penser\nque, dans les myst\u00e8res, ces ph\u00e9nom\u00e8nes \u00e9toient beaucoup mieux ex\u00e9cut\u00e9es et\nsans comparison plus terribles \u00e0 l\u2019aide de quelque composition pyrique,\nqui est rest\u00e9e cach\u00e9e, comme celle du feu Gr\u00e9geois.\u201d _De Pauw._\n\n\nPage 78.\u2014\u201c_The burning of the reed\u2010beds of Ethiopia._\u201d\u2014\u201cIl n\u2019y a point\nd\u2019autre moyen que de porter le feu dans ces for\u00eats de roseaux, qui\nr\u00e9pandent alors dans tout le pa\u00efs une lumi\u00e8re aussi consid\u00e9rable que celle\ndu jour m\u00eame.\u201d _Maillet_, tom. 1. p. 63.\n\n\nPage 79.\u2014\u201c_The sound of torrents._\u201d\u2014The Nile, _Pliny_ tells us, was\nadmitted into the Pyramid.\n\n\nPage 81.\u2014\u201c_I had almost given myself up._\u201d\u2014\u201cOn exer\u00e7oit,\u201d says _Dupuis_,\n\u201cles recipiendaires, pendant plusieurs jours, \u00e0 traverser, \u00e0 la nage, une\ngrande \u00e9tendue d\u2019eau. On les y jettoit et ce n\u2019\u00e9toit que avec peine qu\u2019\nils s\u2019en retiroient. On appliquoit le fer et le feu sur leurs membres. On\nles faisoit passer \u00e0 travers les flammes.\u201d\n\nThe aspirants were often in considerable danger, and Pythagoras, we are\ntold, nearly lost his life in the trials. v. _Recherches sur les\nInitiations, par Robin_.\n\n\nPage 90.\u2014For the two cups used in the mysteries, see _L\u2019Histoire des\nJuifs_, liv. 9. c. 16.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Osiris._\u201d\u2014Osiris, under the name of Serapis, was supposed to rule\nover the subterranean world; and performed the office of Pluto, in the\nmythology of the Egyptians. \u201cThey believed,\u201d says Dr. Pritchard, \u201cthat\nSerapis presided over the region of departed souls, during the period of\ntheir absence, when languishing without bodies, and that the dead were\ndeposited in his palace.\u201d _Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_To cool the lips of the dead._\u201d\u2014\u201cFrigidam illam aquam post mortem,\ntanquam Hebes poculum, expetitam.\u201d _Zoega._\u2014The Lethe of the Egyptians was\ncalled Ameles. See _Dupuis_, tom. 8. p. 651.\n\n\nPage 90.\u2014\u201c_A draught divine._\u201d\u2014_Diodor. Sicul._\n\n\nPage 93.\u2014\u201c_Grasshopper, symbol of initiation._\u201d\u2014_Hor. Apoll._\u2014The\ngrasshopper was also consecrated to the sun as being musical.\n\n\nPage 94.\u2014\u201c_Isle of gardens._\u201d\u2014The isle Antirrhodus near Alexandria.\n_Maillet._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Vineyard at Anthylla._\u201d\u2014See _Athen. Deipnos._\n\n\nPage 97.\u2014\u201c_We can see those stars._\u201d\u2014\u201cOn voyoit en plein jour par ces\nouvertures les \u00e9toiles, et m\u00eame quelques plan\u00e8tes en leur plus grande\nlatitude septentrionale; et les pr\u00eatres avoient bient\u00f4t profit\u00e9 de ce\nph\u00e9nom\u00e8ne pour observer \u00e0 diverses heures la passage des \u00e9toiles.\u201d\n_S\u00e9thos._\u2014_Strabo_ mentions certain caves or pits, constructed for the\npurpose of astronomical observations, which lay in the Zelopolitan\nprefecture, beyond Heliopolis.\n\n\nPage 98.\u2014\u201c_A plantain._\u201d\u2014This tree was dedicated to the Genii of the\nShades, from its being an emblem of repose and cooling airs. \u201cCui imminet\nmus\u00e6 folium, quod ab Iside infera geniisque ei addictis manu geri solitum,\numbram requiemque et auras frigidas subindigitare videtur.\u201d _Zoega._\n\n\nPage 107.\u2014\u201c_He spoke of the preexistence of the soul_,\u201d _&c._\u2014For a full\naccount of the doctrines which are here represented as having been taught\nto the initiated in the Egyptian mysteries, the reader may consult\n_Dupuis_, _Pritchard\u2019s Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology_, &c. &c. \u201cL\u2019on\nd\u00e9couvroit l\u2019origine de l\u2019ame, sa chute sur la terre, \u00e0 travers les\nsph\u00e8res et les \u00e9l\u00e9mens, et son retour au lieu de sa origine ... c\u2019\u00e9toit\nici la partie la plus m\u00e9taphysique, et que ne pourroit gu\u00e8re entendre le\ncommun des Initi\u00e9s, mais dont on lui donnoit le spectacle par des figures\net des spectres all\u00e9goriques.\u201d _Dupuis._\n\n\nPage 108.\u2014\u201c_Those fields of radiance._\u201d\u2014See _Beausobre_, liv. 3. c. 4. for\nthe \u201cterre bienheureuse et lumineuse\u201d which the Manicheans supposed God to\ninhabit. Plato, too, speaks (in Ph\u00e6d.) of a \u201cpure land lying in the pure\nsky (_\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b3\u03b7\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03c9_), the abode of divinity,\nof innocence, and of life.\u201d\n\n\nPage 110.\u2014\u201c_Tracing it from the first moment of earthward desire._\u201d\u2014In the\noriginal construction of this work, there was an episode introduced here,\n(which I have since published in another form,) illustrating the doctrine\nof the fall of the soul by the Oriental fable of the Loves of the Angels.\n\n\nPage 111.\u2014\u201c_Restoring her lost wings._\u201d\u2014_Damascius_ in his Life of\nIsidorus, says, \u201cEx antiquissimis Philosophis Pythagoram et Platonem\nIsidorus ut Deos coluit, et _eorum animas alatas esse_ dixit quas in locum\nsuperc\u0153lestem inque campum veritatis et pratum elevatas, divinis putavit\nideis pasci.\u201d _Apud Phot. Bibliothec._\n\n\nPage 112.\u2014\u201c_A pale, moonlike meteor._\u201d\u2014_Apuleius_, in describing the\nmiraculous appearances exhibited in the mysteries, says, \u201cNocte medi\u00e2 vidi\nsolem candido coruscantem lumine.\u201d _Metamorphos._ lib. 11.\n\n\nPage 113.\u2014\u201c_So entirely did the illusion of the scene_,\u201d _&c._\u2014In tracing\nthe early connection of spectacles with the ceremonies of religion,\nVoltaire says, \u201cIl y a bien plus; les v\u00e9ritables grandes trag\u00e9dies, les\nrepresentations imposantes et terribles, \u00e9toient les myst\u00e8res sacr\u00e9s,\nqu\u2019on c\u00e9l\u00e9broit dans les plus vastes temples du monde, en pr\u00e9sence des\nseuls Initi\u00e9s; c\u2019\u00e9toit l\u00e0 que les habits, les d\u00e9corations, les machines\n\u00e9toient propres au sujet; et le sujet \u00e9toit la vie pr\u00e9sente et la vie\nfuture.\u201d _Des divers changemens arriv\u00e9s \u00e0 l\u2019art tragique._\n\nTo these scenic representations in the Egyptian mysteries, there is\nevidently an allusion in the vision of Ezekiel, where the spirit shows him\nthe abominations which the Israelites learned in Egypt:\u2014\u201cThen said he unto\nme, \u2018Son of man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the house of Israel\ndo in the dark, every man in _the chambers of his imagery_.\u2019\u201d Chap. 8.\n\n\nPage 118.\u2014\u201c_The seven tables of stone._\u201d\u2014\u201cBernard, Comte de la Marche\nTr\u00e9visane, instruit par la lecture des livres anciens, dit qu\u2019 Hermes\ntrouva sept tables dans la vall\u00e9e d\u2019Hebron, sur lesquelles \u00e9toient grav\u00e9s\nles principes des arts liberaux.\u201d _Fables Egyptiennes._ See _Jablonski de\nstelis Herm._\n\n\nPage 119.\u2014\u201c_Beside the goat of Mendes._\u201d\u2014For an account of the animal\nworship of the Egyptians, see _De Pauw_, tom. 2.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_The Isiac serpents._\u201d\u2014\u201cOn auguroit bien des serpens Isiaques,\nlorsqu\u2019ils goutoient l\u2019offrande et se trainoient lentement autour de\nl\u2019autel.\u201d _De Pauw._\n\n\nPage 121.\u2014\u201c_Hence the festivals and hymns_,\u201d _&c._\u2014For an account of the\nvarious festivals at the different periods of the sun\u2019s progress, in the\nspring, and in the autumn, see _Dupuis_ and _Pritchard_.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_The mysteries of the night._\u201d\u2014v. _Athenag. Leg. pro Christ._ p. 133.\n\n\nPage 125.\u2014\u201c_A peal like that of thunder._\u201d\u2014See, for some curious remarks\non the mode of imitating thunder and lightning in the ancient mysteries,\n_De Pauw_, tom. 1. p. 323. The machine with which these effects were\nproduced on the stage was called a ceraunoscope.\n\n\nPage 131.\u2014\u201c_Windings, capriciously intricate._\u201d\u2014In addition to the\naccounts which the ancients have left us of the prodigious excavations in\nall parts of Egypt,\u2014the fifteen hundred chambers under the Labyrinth\u2014the\nsubterranean stables of the Theba\u00efd, containing a thousand horses\u2014the\ncrypts of Upper Egypt passing under the bed of the Nile, &c. &c.\u2014the\nstories and traditions current among the Arabs still preserve the memory\nof those wonderful substructions. \u201cUn Arabe,\u201d says Paul Lucas, \u201cqui \u00e9toit\navec nous, m\u2019assura qu\u2019\u00e9tant entr\u00e9 autrefois dans le Labyrinthe, il avoit\nmarch\u00e9 dans les chambres souterraines jusqu\u2019en un lieu o\u00f9 il y avoit une\ngrande place environn\u00e9e de plusieurs niches qui ressembloit \u00e0 de petites\nboutiques, d\u2019o\u00f9 l\u2019on entroit dans d\u2019autres all\u00e9es et dans des chambres,\nsans pouvoir en trouver la fin.\u201d In speaking, too, of the arcades along\nthe Nile, near Cosseir, \u201cIls me dirent m\u00eame que ces souterrains \u00e9toient si\nprofondes qu\u2019il y en avoient qui alloient \u00e0 trois journ\u00e9es de l\u00e0, et\nqu\u2019ils conduisoient dans un pays o\u00f9 l\u2019on voyoit de beaux jardins, qu\u2019on y\ntrouvoit de belles maisons,\u201d &c. &c.\n\nSee also in _M. Quatremere\u2019s Memoires sur l\u2019Egypte_, tom. 1. p. 142., an\naccount of a subterranean reservoir, said to have been discovered at Ka\u00efs,\nand of the expedition undertaken by a party of persons, in a long narrow\nboat, for the purpose of exploring it. \u201cLeur voyage avoit \u00e9t\u00e9 de six\njours, dont les quatre premiers furent employ\u00e9s \u00e0 p\u00e9n\u00e9trer les bords; les\ndeux autres \u00e0 revenir au lieu d\u2019o\u00f9 ils \u00e9toient partis: Pendant tout cet\nintervalle ils ne purent atteindre l\u2019extr\u00e9mit\u00e9 du bassin. L\u2019\u00e9mir Ala\u2010\neddin\u2010Tamboga, gouverneur de Behnesa, \u00e9crivit ces d\u00e9tails au sultan, qui\nen fut extr\u00eamement surpris.\u201d\n\n\nPage 136.\u2014\u201c_A small island in the centre of Lake M\u0153ris._\u201d\u2014The position\nhere given to Lake M\u0153ris, in making it the immediate boundary of the city\nof Memphis to the south, corresponds exactly with the site assigned to it\nby Maillet:\u2014\u201cMemphis avoit encore \u00e0 son midi un vaste reservoir, par o\u00f9\ntout ce qui peut servir \u00e0 la commodit\u00e9 et \u00e0 l\u2019agr\u00e9ment de la vie lui \u00e9toit\nvoitur\u00e9 abondamment de toutes les parties de l\u2019Egypte. Ce lac qui la\nterminoit de ce c\u00f4t\u00e9\u2010l\u00e0,\u201d &c. &c. Tom. 2. p. 7.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Ruins rising blackly above the wave._\u201d\u2014\u201cOn voit sur la rive\norientale des antiquit\u00e9s qui sont presque enti\u00e8rement sous les eaux.\u201d\n_Belzoni._\n\n\nPage 137.\u2014\u201c_Its thundering portals._\u201d\u2014\u201cQuorundam autem domorum (in\nLabyrintho) talis est situs, ut adaperientibus foris tonitru intus\nterribile existat.\u201d _Pliny._\n\n\nPage 138.\u2014\u201c_Leaves that serve as cups._\u201d\u2014_Strabo._ According to the French\ntranslator of Strabo, it was the fruit of the _faba \u00c6gyptiaca_, not the\nleaf, that was used for this purpose. \u201cLe _\u03ba\u03b9\u03b2\u03c9\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd_,\u201d he says, \u201cdevoit\ns\u2019entendre de la capsule ou fruit de cette plante, dont les Egyptiens se\nservoient comme d\u2019un vase, imaginant que l\u2019eau du Nil y devenoit\ndelicieuse.\u201d\n\n\nPage 142.\u2014\u201c_The fish of these waters_,\u201d _&c._\u2014_\u00c6lian_, lib. 6. 32.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Pleasure boats or yachts._\u201d\u2014Called Thalamages, from the pavilion on\nthe deck. v. _Strabo_.\n\n\nPage 144.\u2014\u201c_Covered with beds of those pale, sweet roses._\u201d\u2014As April is\nthe season for gathering these roses (See _Malte\u2010brun\u2019s Economical\nCalendar_), the Epicurean could not, of course, mean to say that he saw\nthem actually in flower.\n\n\nPage 146.\u2014\u201c_The lizards upon the bank._\u201d\u2014\u201cL\u2019or et l\u2019azur brillent en\nbandes longitudinales sur leur corps entier, et leur queue est du plus\nbeau bleu celeste.\u201d _Sonnini._\n\n\nPage 147.\u2014\u201c_The canal through which we now sailed._\u201d\u2014\u201cUn canal,\u201d says\n_Maillet_, \u201ctr\u00e8s profond et tr\u00e8s large y voituroit les eaux du Nil.\u201d\n\n\nPage 150.\u2014\u201c_For a draught of whose flood_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cAnciennement on portoit\nles eaux du Nil jusqu\u2019au des contr\u00e9es fort \u00e9loign\u00e9es, et surtout chez les\nprincesses du sang des Ptolom\u00e9es, mari\u00e9es dans des families \u00e9trang\u00e8res.\u201d\n_De Pauw._\n\n\nPage 154.\u2014\u201c_Bearing each the name of its owner._\u201d\u2014\u201cLe nom du ma\u00eetre y\n\u00e9toit \u00e9crit, pendant la nuit en lettres de feu.\u201d _Maillet._\n\n\nPage 155.\u2014\u201c_Cups of that frail crystal_\u201d\u2014called Alassontes. For their\nbrittleness _Martial_ is an authority:\u2014\n\n  Tolle, puer, calices, tepidique toreumata Nili,\n  Et mihi secur\u00e2 pocula trade manu.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Bracelets of the black beans of Abyssinia._\u201d\u2014The bean of the\nGlycyne, which is so beautiful as to be strung into necklaces and\nbracelets, is generally known by the name of the black bean of Abyssinia.\n_Niebhur._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Sweet lotus\u2010wood flute._\u201d\u2014See _M. Villoteau on the musical\ninstruments of the Egyptians_.\n\n\nPage 156.\u2014\u201c_Shine like the brow of Mount Atlas at night._\u201d\u2014_Solinus_\nspeaks of the snowy summit of Mount Atlas glittering with flames at night.\nIn the account of the Periplus of Hanno, as well as in that of Eudoxus, we\nread that as those navigators were coasting this part of Africa, torrents\nof light were seen to fall on the sea.\n\n\nPage 158.\u2014\u201c_The tears of Isis._\u201d\u2014\u201cPer lacrymas, vero, Isidis intelligo\neffluvia qu\u00e6dam Lun\u00e6, quibus tantam vim videntur tribuisse \u00c6gypti.\u201d\n_Jablonski._\u2014He is of opinion that the superstition of the _Nucta_, or\nmiraculous drop, is of a relic of the veneration paid to the dews, as the\ntears of Isis.\n\n\nPage 158.\u2014\u201c_The rustling of the acacias_,\u201d _&c._\u2014_Travels of Captain\nMangles._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Supposed to rest in the valley of the moon._\u201d\u2014_Plutarch._ _Dupuis_,\ntom. 10. The Manicheans held the same belief. See _Beausobre_, p. 565.\n\n\nPage 160.\u2014\u201c_Sothis, the fair star of the waters._\u201d\u2014_\u1f51\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03c9\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd_ is the\nepithet applied to this star by _Plutarch_, _de Isid._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Was its birth\u2010star._\u201d\u2014_\u1f29 \u03a3\u03c9\u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03b7 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd_. _Porphyr. de Antro Nymph._\n\n\nPage 168.\u2014\u201c_Golden Mountains._\u201d\u2014v. _Wilford on Egypt and the Nile_,\nAsiatic Researches.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Sweet\u2010smelling wood._\u201d\u2014\u201c\u2019A l\u2019\u00e9poque de la crue le Nil Vert charie\nles planches d\u2019un bois qui a une odeur semblable \u00e0 celle de l\u2019encens.\u201d\n_Quatremere._\n\n\nPage 169.\u2014\u201c_Barges full of bees._\u201d\u2014_Maillet._\n\n\nPage 170.\u2014\u201c_Such a profusion of the white flowers_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cOn les voit\ncomme jadis cueillir dans les champs des tiges du lotus, signes du\nd\u00e9bordement et pr\u00e9sages de l\u2019abondance; ils s\u2019enveloppent les bras et le\ncorps avec les longues tiges fleuries, et parcourent les rues,\u201d &c.\n_Description des Tombeaux des Rois, par M. Costaz._\n\n\nPage 173.\u2014\u201c_While composing his commentary on the scriptures._\u201d\u2014It was\nduring the composition of his great critical work, the Hexapla, that\nOrigen employed these female scribes.\n\n\nPage 176.\u2014\u201c_That rich tapestry_,\u201d _&c._\n\n  Non ego pr\u00e6tulerim Babylonica picta superb\u00e8\n  Texta, Semirami\u00e2 qu\u00e6 variantur acu.\n\n                                                                _Martial._\n\n\nPage 200.\u2014\u201c_The Place of Weeping._\u201d\u2014v. _Wilford_, _Asiatic Researches_,\nvol. 3. p. 340.\n\n\nPage 210.\u2014\u201c_We had long since left this mountain behind._\u201d\u2014The voyages on\nthe Nile are, under favourable circumstances, performed with considerable\nrapidity. \u201cEn cinq ou six jours,\u201d says _Maillet_, \u201con pourroit ais\u00e9ment\nremonter de l\u2019embouchure du Nil \u00e0 ses cataractes, ou descendre des\ncataractes jusqu\u2019\u00e0 la mer.\u201d The great uncertainty of the navigation is\nproved by what _Belzoni_ tells us:\u2014\u201cNous ne m\u00eemes cette fois que deux\njours et demi pour faire le trajet du Caire \u00e0 Melawi, auquel, dans notre\nsecond voyage, nous avions employ\u00e9s dix\u2010huit jours.\u201d\n\n\nPage 212.\u2014\u201c_Those mighty statues, that fling their shadows._\u201d\u2014\u201cElles out\npr\u00e8s de vingt m\u00e8tres (61 pieds) d\u2019\u00e9l\u00e9vation; et au lever du soleil, leurs\nombres immenses s\u2019\u00e9tendent au loin sur la chaine Libyen.\u201d _Description\ng\u00e9n\u00e9rale de Th\u00e8bes, par Messrs. Jollois et Desvilliers._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Those cool alcoves._\u201d\u2014_Paul Lucas._\n\n\nPage 219.\u2014\u201c_Whose waters are half sweet, half bitter._\u201d\u2014_Paul Lucas._\n\n\nPage 224.\u2014\u201c_The Mountain of the Birds._\u201d\u2014There has been much controversy\namong the Arabian writers, with respect to the site of this mountain, for\nwhich see _Quatremere_, tom. 1. art. _Amoun_.\n\n\nPage 230.\u2014\u201c_The hand of labour had succeeded_,\u201d _&c._\u2014The monks of Mount\nSinai (_Shaw_ says) have covered over near four acres of the naked rocks\nwith fruitful gardens and orchards.\n\n\nPage 233.\u2014\u201c_The image of a head._\u201d\u2014There was usually, Tertullian tells us,\nthe image of Christ on the communion\u2010cups.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Kissed her forehead._\u201d\u2014\u201cWe are rather disposed to infer,\u201d says the\npresent Bishop of Lincoln, in his very sensible work on Tertullian, \u201cthat,\nat the conclusion of all their meetings for the purpose of devotion, the\nearly Christians were accustomed to give the kiss of peace, in token of\nthe brotherly love subsisting between them.\u201d\n\n\nPage 237.\u2014\u201c_In the middle of the seven valleys._\u201d\u2014See Macrizy\u2019s account of\nthese valleys, given by Quatremere, tom. 1. p. 450.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Red lakes of Nitria._\u201d\u2014For a striking description of this region,\nsee \u201c_Rameses_,\u201d\u2014a work which, though, in general, too technical and\nelaborate, shows, in many passages, to what picturesque effects the\nscenery and mythology of Egypt may be made subservient.\n\n\nPage 238.\u2014\u201c_In the neighbourhood of Antino\u00eb._\u201d\u2014From the position assigned\nto Antino\u00eb in this work, we should conclude that it extended much farther\nto the north, than these few ruins of it that remain would seem to\nindicate; so as to render the distance between the city and the Mountain\nof the Birds considerably less than what it appears to be at present.\n\n\nPage 243.\u2014\u201c_When Isis, the pure star of lovers._\u201d\u2014v. _Plutarch de Isid._\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Ere she again embrace her bridegroom sun._\u201d\u2014\u201cConjunctio solis cum\nluna, quod est veluti utriusque connubium.\u201d _Jablonski._\n\n\nPage 247.\u2014\u201c_Of his walks a lion is the companion._\u201d\u2014M. Chateaubriand has\nintroduced Paul and his lion into the \u201c_Martyrs_,\u201d liv. 11.\n\n\nPage 235.\u2014\u201c_Come thus secretly before day\u2010break._\u201d\u2014It was among the\naccusations of Celsus against the Christians, that they held their\nassemblies privately and contrary to law; and one of the speakers in the\ncurious work of Minucius Felix calls the Christians \u201clatebrosa et\nlucifugax natio.\u201d\n\n\nPage 256.\u2014\u201c_A swallow_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cJe vis dans le desert des hirondelles d\u2019un\ngris clair comme le sable sur lequel elles volent.\u201d\u2014_Denon._\n\n\nPage 257.\u2014\u201c_The comet that once desolated this world._\u201d\u2014In alluding to\nWhiston\u2019s idea of a comet having caused the deluge, _M. Girard_, having\nremarked that the word Typhon means a deluge, adds, \u201cOn ne peut entendre\npar le tems du r\u00e8gne de Typhon que celui pendant lequel le d\u00e9luge inonda\nla terre, tems pendant lequel on d\u00fbt observer la com\u00e8te qui l\u2019occasionna,\net dont l\u2019apparition fut, non seulement pour les peuples de l\u2019Egypte, et\nde l\u2019Ethiopie, mais encore pour tous les peuples le pr\u00e9sage funeste de\nleur destruction presque totale.\u201d _Description de la Vall\u00e9e de\nl\u2019E\u2019garement._\n\n\nPage 259.\u2014\u201c_In which the spirit of my dream_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cMany people,\u201d said\n_Origen_, \u201chave been brought over to Christianity by the Spirit of God\ngiving a sudden turn to their minds, and offering visions to them either\nby day or night.\u201d On this _Jortin_ remarks:\u2014\u201cWhy should it be thought\nimprobable that Pagans of good dispositions, but not free from prejudices,\nshould have been called by divine admonitions, by dreams or visions, which\nmight be a support to Christianity in those days of distress.\u201d\n\n\nPage 263.\u2014\u201c_One of those earthen cups._\u201d\u2014_Palladius_, who lived some time\nin Egypt, describes the monk Ptolem\u00e6us, who inhabited the desert of Scete,\nas collecting in earthen cups the abundant dew from the\nrocks.\u2014_Bibliothec. Pat._ tom. 13.\n\n\nPage 264.\u2014\u201c_It was to preserve, he said_,\u201d _&c._\u2014The brief sketch here\ngiven of the Jewish dispensation agrees very much with the view taken of\nit by Dr. Sumner, the present Bishop of Llandaff, in the first chapters of\nhis eloquent and luminous work, the \u201cRecords of the Creation.\u201d\n\n\nPage 266.\u2014\u201c_In vain did I seek the promise of immortality._\u201d\u2014\u201cIt is\nimpossible to deny,\u201d says the Bishop of Llandaff, \u201cthat the sanctions of\nthe Mosaic Law are altogether temporal.... It is, indeed, one of the facts\nthat can only be explained by acknowledging that he really acted under a\ndivine commission, promulgating a temporary law for a peculiar purpose,\u201d\u2014a\nmuch more candid and sensible way of treating this very difficult point,\nthan by either endeavouring, like Warburton, to escape from it into a\nparadox, or still worse, contriving, like Dr. Graves, to increase its\ndifficulty by explanation. v. \u201c_On the Pentateuch_.\u201d See also _Horne\u2019s\nIntroduction_, _&c._ vol. I. p. 226.\n\n\nPage 268.\u2014\u201c_All are of the dust_,\u201d _&c._\u2014While Voltaire, Volney, &c. refer\nto the Ecclesiastes, as abounding with tenets of materialism and\nEpicurism, Mr. Des Voeux and others find in it strong proofs of belief in\na future state. The chief difficulty lies in the chapter from which this\ntext is quoted; and the mode of construction by which some writers attempt\nto get rid of it,\u2014namely, by putting these texts into the mouth of a\nfoolish reasoner,\u2014appears forced and gratuitous. v. _Dr. Hales\u2019s\nAnalysis_.\n\n\nPage 270.\u2014\u201c_The noblest and first\u2010created_,\u201d _&c._\u2014This opinion of the\nHermit may be supposed to have been derived from his master, Origen; but\nit is not easy to ascertain the exact doctrine of Origen on this subject.\nIn the Treatise on Prayer attributed to him, he asserts that God the\nFather alone should be invoked,\u2014which, says Bayle, is \u201cencherir sur les\nH\u00e9r\u00e9sies des Sociniens.\u201d Notwithstanding this, however, and some other\nindications of, what was afterwards called, Arianism, (such as the opinion\nof the divinity being received by _communication_, which _Milner_ asserts\nto have been held by this Father,) Origen was one of the authorities\nquoted by Athanasius in support of his high doctrines of co\u2010eternity and\nco\u2010essentiality. What Priestley says is, perhaps, the best solution of\nthese inconsistencies;\u2014\u201cOrigen, as well as Clemens Alexandrinus, has been\nthought to favour the Arian principle; but he did it only in words and not\nin ideas.\u201d _Early Opinions_, _&c._ Whatever uncertainty, however, there\nmay exist with respect to the opinion of Origen himself on this subject,\nthere is no doubt that the doctrines of his immediate followers were, at\nleast, Anti\u2010Athanasian. \u201cSo many Bishops of Africa,\u201d says Priestley,\n\u201cwere, at this period (between the years 255 and 258), Unitarians, that\nAthanasius says, \u2018The Son of God,\u2019\u2014meaning his divinity,\u2014\u2018was scarcely any\nlonger preached in the churches.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nPage 271.\u2014\u201c_The restoration of the whole human race to purity and\nhappiness._\u201d\u2014This benevolent doctrine,\u2014which not only goes far to solve\nthe great problem of moral and physical evil, but which would, if received\nmore generally, tend to soften the spirit of uncharitableness, so fatally\nprevalent among Christian sects,\u2014was maintained by that great light of the\nearly Church, Origen, and has not wanted supporters among more modern\nTheologians. That Tillotson was inclined to the opinion appears from his\nsermon preached before the queen. Paley is supposed to have held the same\namiable doctrine; and Newton (the author of the work on the Prophecies) is\nalso among the supporters of it. For a full account of the arguments in\nfavour of this opinion, derived both from reason and the express language\nof Scripture, see Dr. Southwood Smith\u2019s very interesting work, \u201cOn the\nDivine Government.\u201d See also _Magee on the Atonement_, where the doctrine\nof the advocates of Universal Restoration is thus briefly and fairly\nexplained:\u2014\u201cBeginning with the existence of an infinitely powerful, wise,\nand good Being, as the first and fundamental principle of rational\nreligion, they pronounce the essence of this Being to be _love_, and from\nthis infer, as a demonstrable consequence, that none of the creatures\nformed by such a Being will ever be made eternally miserable.... Since God\n(they say) would act unjustly in inflicting eternal misery for temporary\ncrimes, the sufferings of the wicked can be but remedial, and will\nterminate in a complete purification from moral disorder, and in their\nultimate restoration to virtue and happiness.\u201d\n\n\nPage 273.\u2014\u201c_Fruit of the desert shrub._\u201d\u2014v. _Hamilton\u2019s \u00c6gyptiaca_.\n\n\nPage 278.\u2014\u201c_The white garment she wore, and the ring of gold on her\nfinger._\u201d\u2014See, for the custom among the early Christians of wearing white\nfor a few days after baptism, _Ambros. de Myst._\u2014With respect to the ring,\nthe Bishop of Lincoln says, in his work on Tertullian, \u201cThe natural\ninference from these words (_Tertull. de Pudiciti\u00e2_) appears to be that a\nring used to be given in baptism; but I have found no other trace of such\na custom.\u201d\n\n\nPage 280.\u2014\u201c_Pebbles of jasper._\u201d\u2014v. _Clarke_.\n\n\nIb.\u2014\u201c_Stunted marigold_,\u201d _&c._\u2014\u201cLes _Mesembryanthemum nodiflorum_ et\n_Zygophyllum coccineum_, plantes grasses des d\u00e9serts, rejet\u00e9es \u00e0 cause de\nleur \u00e2cret\u00e9 par les chameaux, les ch\u00e8vres, et les gazelles.\u201d _M. Delile\nupon the plants of Egypt._\n\n\nPage 281.\u2014\u201c_Antino\u00eb._\u201d\u2014v. _Savary_ and _Quatremere_.\n\n\nPage 286.\u2014\u201c_I have observed in my walks._\u201d\u2014\u201cJe remarquai avec une\nr\u00e9flexion triste, qu\u2019un animal de proie accompagne presque toujours les\npas de ce joli et fr\u00eale individu.\u201d\n\n\nPage 272.\u2014\u201c_Glistened over its silver letters._\u201d\u2014The Codex Cottonianus of\nthe New Testament is written in silver letters on a purple ground. The\nCodex Cottonianus of the Septuagint version of the Old Testament is\nsupposed to be the identical copy that belonged to Origen.\n\n\nPage 289.\u2014\u201c_Some denier of Christ._\u201d\u2014Those Christians who sacrificed to\nidols to save themselves were called by various names, _Thurificati_,\n_Sacrificati_, _Mittentes_, _Negatores_, &c. Baronius mentions a bishop of\nthis period (253), Marcellinus, who, yielding to the threats of the\nGentiles, threw incense upon the altar. v. _Arnob. contra Gent._ lib. 7.\n\n\nPage 297.\u2014\u201c_The clear voice with which_,\u201d _&c._\u2014The merit of the\nconfession \u201cChristianus sum,\u201d or \u201cChristiana sum,\u201d was considerably\nenhanced by the clearness and distinctness with which it was pronounced.\n_Eusebius_ mentions the martyr Vetius as making it _\u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7 \u03c6\u03c9\u03bd\u03b7_.\n\n\nPage 304.\u2014\u201c_The band round the young Christian\u2019s brow._\u201d\u2014We find poisonous\ncrowns mentioned by _Pliny_, under the designation of \u201ccoron\u00e6 ferales.\u201d\n_Paschalius_, too, gives the following account of these \u201cdeadly garlands,\u201d\nas he calls them:\u2014\u201cSed mirum est tam salutare inventum humanam nequitiam\nreperisse, quomodo ad nefarios usus traducent. Nempe, repert\u00e6 sunt nefand\u00e6\ncoron\u00e6 harum, quas dixi, tam salubrium per nomen quidem et speciem\nimitatrices, at re et effectu ferales, atque adeo capitis, cui imponuntur,\ninterfectrices.\u201d _De Coronis._\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 THE END.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 LONDON:\n                    Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode,\n                            New\u2010Street\u2010Square.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                FOOTNOTES\n\n\n    1 The description, here alluded to, may also be found, copied\n      _verbatim_ from Sethos, in the \u201cVoyages d\u2019Ant\u00e9nor.\u201d\u2014\u201cIn that\n      philosophical romance, called \u2018La Vie de S\u00e9thos,\u2019\u201d says Warburton,\n      \u201cwe find a much juster account of old Egyptian wisdom, than in all\n      the pretended \u2018Histoire du Ciel.\u2019\u201d _Div. Leg._ book 4. sect. 14.\n\n    2 A cross was, among the Egyptians, the emblem of a future life.\n\n    3 \u201cOn s\u2019\u00e9toit m\u00eame avis\u00e9, depuis la premi\u00e8re construction de ces\n      demeures, de percer en plusieurs endroits jusq\u2019au haut les terres\n      qui les couvroient; non pas, \u00e0 la v\u00e9rit\u00e9, pour tirer un jour qui\n      n\u2019auroit jamais \u00e9t\u00e9 suffisant, mais pour recevoir un air salutaire,\n      &c.\u201d\u2014_Sethos._\n\n    4 Osiris.\n\n    5 In the language of Plato, Hierocles, &c. to \u201crestore to the soul its\n      wings,\u201d is the main object both of religion and philosophy.\n\n    6 See an account of this sensitive tree, which bends down its branches\n      to those who approach it, in M. Jomard\u2019s Description of Syene and\n      the Cataracts.\n\n    7 The province of Arsino\u00eb, now Fioum.\n\n    8 In the original the discourses of the Hermit are given much more at\n      length.\n\n    9 A rank, resembling that of Colonel.\n\n   10 \u201cUne de ces couronnes de grain de corail, dont les vierges martyres\n      ornoient leurs cheveaux en allant \u00e0 la mort.\u201d _Les Martyrs._\n\n\n\n\n\n                            TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTE\n\n\nVariations in hyphenation (e.g. \u201cdaybreak\u201d, \u201cday\u2010break\u201d, \u201coverhead\u201d,\n\u201cover\u2010head\u201d) have not been changed.\n\nIn the notes, some references are to the wrong pages or out of sequence.\n\nOther changes, which have been made to the text:\n\n      page 32, \u201calrea d\u201d changed to \u201calready\u201d\n      page 81, \u201cstirke\u201d changed to \u201cstrike\u201d\n      page 93, \u201cgrashopper\u201d changed to \u201cgrasshopper\u201d\n      page 188, quote mark added before \u201cThe state of misery\u201d\n      page 194, \u201cdecome\u201d changed to \u201cbecome\u201d\n      page 312, quote mark added before \u201cThere is, to the north of\n      Memphis\u201d","title":"The Epicurean: A Tale","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":54369}