Minos *. But there was a mixture of disdainful incredulity in her smile, when he told her, how in the fondness of his boyish remembrance, before he quitted Antioch, he had consulted the oracle of Daphnet. The Priestess of Apollo plucked a leaf from the sacred laurel, and murmured over it her mystic incantations; it was immersed in the Castalian fountain; and, when it was withdrawn, it bore interlaced in Syriac characters the names of Eucharis and Eumolpus. Eucharis refused to believe, and spoke of the virtues of the prophetic fountain in language at which the votaries of the Daphnic Temple would have shuddered. But when Eumolpus solemnly asserted the reality of the oracle, and assured her, that, if she would deign to accompany him to the hot springs of Gadara, even he could show her fountains imbued with powers yet more marvellous, her female curiosity was awakened; and half credulous, yet ashamed of the appearance of belief, she at last granted his request, and triumphed in her anticipation of the failure of his pretensions to superior knowledge. On the following day Eucharis arose from her mid-day slumber, and with two female attendants was conducted by Eumolpus to the boat that was to transport them across the lake. Not a cloud relieved the deep and sparkling azure of the sky; and the light breeze, that filled their sail, scarcely ruffled the surface of the waters ‡. They were clearer than the clearest crystal, and the white shells and shining pebbles were distinctly visible at the bottom. Before them lay those beautiful and majestic mountains that rise from the eastern border of the lake. On their projecting declivities forests of ilex and cedar shone brightly in the sun, or fell back into shadow in their undulating recesses; while along their bare and rugged summits all the clefts and gullies could be distinguished in the strong light. At first they saw not on their right the southern termination of the lake; for it winded away among the hills, till it opened into the valley of the Jordan. But it gradually expanded, as they approached the middle point of their voyage; and soon by the difference of colour they distinguished the stream of the river, flowing through the lake Some ingenious writers have endeavoured to show that the Grecian Minos is the same as the Indian Menu. + See a description of the grove of Daphne in Gibbon's Decline and Fall, chap. xxiii. The Emperor Adrian had his destiny foretold in this manner;— Paradise Lost, Book IV. Nor that sweet grove Of Daphne by Orontes, and the inspired Castalian Spring See Josephus de Bell. Jud. lib. iii. cap. 18. Dr. Clarke describes with enthusiasm the beauties of the lake of Tiberias. without mingling with its waters*. Eucharis, more beautiful and more haughty than she had ever seemed before, sat in the stern of the vessel between her two attendants, and Eumolpus placed himself at her feet. To him she scarcely deigned a word or look, but listened carelessly to the prattle of her Egyptian slave, who told her that there was a secret communication between the lake of Tiberias and the waters of the Nilet, for that the same fish were found in both, and were found no where else. Eumolpus sat in silence; and sometimes it seemed as if there sparkled in his eyes an ill concealed expression of triumph and delight; and sometimes he smiled as he looked around, and remembered how vast this lake had once seemed to him, and how the hills were shrunk from the dimensions which they had assumed in his recollections of his childhood. At last they reached the opposite shore. The lake preserved its depth to the very edge; and from the boat they ascended a steep rocky hill, in which many caves were hollowed out, once the scpulchres of the ancient inhabitants of the land, but now not unfrequently the haunt of banditti and maniacs, and all the outcasts of society. On the summit camels were waiting for them, on which Eucharis and her attendants were placed, while Eumolpus accompanied them upon one of those fleet mares that are bred in the Arabian desert. The country which they crossed rose with gentle ascent; and sometimes they saw the peasants carrying home their millet harvest, on the backs of camels; and sometimes in wilder spots they startled herds of antelopes, that bounded away, and turned to gaze, as their company passed by. At the end of seven miles they reached Gadara. Hence they were to proceed to the springs on foot; and Eumolpus suffered no one to attend them but the female slaves. Eucharis seemed unwilling even to be supported by his arm as they descended by a winding path down a steep declivity into the glen of the river || Hieromax. The river ran foaming and dashing in its rocky channel; and on each side precipices rose at once to the height of a hundred feet, and hemmed in the narrow valley ¶. On the lower part of their declivity the pine and ash had twined their roots among fragments of * Clarke's Travels, Part II. c. 14. p. 474. This was a vulgar opinion. See Hasselquist's Voyage in the Levant, p. 157. Lond. 17.6. Burckhardt's Travels in Syria, p. 276. Dr. Clarke, p. 463. Plinii Nat. Hist. Lib. v. cap. 18. This description of the valley of the Hieromax is taken chiefly from Burckhardt's Travels in Syria, p. 276. He gives a minute account of the Hot Springs. rock, and fern grew high and strong in the broken hollows. But, above, their bare black splintered summits looked desolately wild, and formed a strong contrast with the bright blue sky. Between the precipice and the river winded a narrow strip of land, which in this sheltered situation preserved a perpetual verdure. Sometimes it widened into a little meadow, and sometimes by projecting rocks was narrowed almost to a foot-path on the edge of the stream. Here at intervals boiling springs gushed out; and baths had been constructed, where the waters of the most abundant were received into marble basins. Here Eumolpus directed the female slaves to await their return, and proceeded with Eucharis along the banks of the river. Higher up the stream, in a sequestered nook seldom visited by the foot of man, arose two fountains, to which the tradition of the country had given the names of Eros and Anteros. Cold as ice by day, it was said that by night they glowed with all the heat of the other springs, and only resumed their coolness with returning light. The streams, which issued from them, met at a little distance from their sources, and ran together murmuring to the river. There was no legend to account for the names; but the spot seemed to have been hallowed by ancient superstition. Övergrown with moss and lichen, and half concealed by the clustering branches of the tamarisk, were the ruins of a little temple of Astarte, the Syrian Queen of Night and Love*; and on one stone of antique sculpture the figure of the goddess was still visible, standing on the prow of a vessel, crowned with the crescent moon, bearing in her right hand the head of Osiris, and in her left a spear. It might be doubted how much credit should be attached to the story of the varying temperature of the waters; for their margin was fresh and green; the delicate fernt, to which the name of the Hair of Venus has been given, hung over the edge its half-transparent films; and the lotus, the eastern emblem of the eternal principle of life, floated on the surface of the limpid pool. All around was cool, and moist, and verdant; beautiful flowers of every species blossomed secure from the withering sun; and nothing was heard but the murmurs of the fountains and the river, the hum of bees around the scarlet honeysuckle, and the twitter of the beecatcher as he watched his winged prey. Eumolpus prostrated himself on the turf; then took from each of the fountains a little water in the hollow of his hand; and, muttering an incantation, flung it in the air. Presently The goddess is thus represented on Galilæan medals. Dr. Clarke, p. 472. from each fountain a mist seemed to rise, and the vapour gradually shaped itself into a dim and shadowy resemblance of two beautiful children. Eucharis shrieked with terror; and clinging almost convulsively to Eumolpus, yet turned to gaze upon the vision. The phantoms slowly approached each other; and when they embraced, suddenly their lineaments became more distinct, and their hues more vivid; and they stood before them, two beautiful boys, their cheeks glowing, their eyes sparkling, and their hair waving, with all the reality of life. They stood entwined in a close embrace, the arms of each locked round the other. They were naked, and their tender limbs shone with all the radiance of youthful health. They were crowned with jasmine; but their auburn ringlets flowed over their shoulders in intermingled curls. One seemed a little younger than the other, and clung half-fearfully to the caress of his companion; and they gazed upon each other as if they lived only in one another's eyes. They spoke not; they moved not; and Eucharis half recovered from her terror, as she looked upon so lovely a sight. Eumolpus beckoned them to approach; and Eucharis pressed his arm more strongly, but did not tremble, although they stood close before her. Eumolpus bent and kissed the forehead of the elder boy, and smiled, and bade Eucharis do the same. afraid, yet encouraged by his example, she stooped, and drew back, stooped again, and kissed the younger. But no sooner had she touched his lips, than suddenly the boys were no more seen; and Eucharis turned and looked at Eumolpus, flung her arms around his neck, and hid in his bosom her blushes and her tears. How long she wept she knew not, or what words of delicious rapture Eumolpus murmured in her ear, or what burning kisses he pressed upon her lips and neck. He placed her on the turf to recover her exhausted strength; and, taking a water-lily from the fountain, he twined its long and flexile stem around her jetty hair, while the snow-white flower shone like a star upon her majestic forehead. Then he kissed again his beautiful bride, and raised her from the ground; and slowly, and in silence, and in delicious meditation, they passed along the banks of the river, till they rejoined her attendants at the baths. Half When they again reached the lake, the sun had just set; but his rosy hues still lingered on the summits of the mountains, and on the mists that were gathering around them. The glassy surface of the lake glowed with the same ethereal colours; and amidst the radiance of the western sky twinkled the evening star-the star of silence, and solitude, and love. The wind had died away; and, as the swarthy boatmen rowed them home, the dull plash of their oars kept time to a low and melancholy song in the ancient language of their country, a song of the departed glories of their people, a song of captivity and woe. Eucharis lay in the bosom of Eumolpus, and, without voice or motion, seemed to drink in the beautiful repose of all around her. But sometimes her dark eyes were filled with tears; and she turned them on her lover with a look which they know who have been loved, and they alone. Not many days had passed before the streets of their native city were merry with the sound of dulcimer, and tabor, and cymbal, and all the pomp of wedding festivity; and long was it the prayer of the youths and maidens of Tiberias, that in their marriage they might be as happy as Eumolpus and Eucharis. H. M. CRITICISMS ON THE PRINCIPAL ITALIAN WRITERS. No. I. DANTE. In a review of Italian literature, Dante has a double claim to precedency. He was the earliest and the greatest writer of his country. He was the first man who fully descried and exhibited the powers of his native dialect. The Latin tongue, which, under the most favourable circumstances, and in the hands of the greatest masters, had still been poor, feeble, and singularly unpoetical, and which had, in the age of Dante, been debased by the admixture of innumerable barbarous words and idioms, was still cultivated with superstitious veneration, and received, in the last stage of corruption, more honours than it had deserved in the period of its life and vigour. It was the language of the cabinet, of the university, of the church. It was employed by all who aspired to distinction in the higher walks of poetry. In compassion to the ignorance of his mistress, a cavalier might now and then proclaim his passion in Tuscan or Provençal rhymes. The vulgar might occasionally be edified by a pious allegory in the popular jargon. But no writer had conceived it possible that the dialect of peasants and market-women should possess sufficient energy and precision for a majestic and durable work. Dante adventured first. He detected the rich treasures of |