But the time flew fast-that dreadful morrow was approaching. Already I saw her writhing in the hands of the torturer-the flames, the racks, the wheels, were before my eyes! Half frantic with the fear that her resolution was fixed, I flung myself from the litter in an agony of weeping, and supplicated her, by the love she bore me, by the happiness that awaited us, by her own merciful God, who was too good to require such a sacrifice by all that the most passionate anxiety could dictate, I implored that she would avert from us the doom that was coming, and-but for once-comply with the vain ceremony demanded of her. Shrinking from me, as I spoke—but with a look more of sorrow than reproach "What, thou, too!" she said mournfully" thou, into whose inmost spirit I had fondly hoped the same light had entered as into my own! No, never be thou leagued with them who would tempt me to make shipwreck of my faith!' Thou, who couldst alone bind me to life, use not, I entreat thee, thy power; but let me die, as He I serve hath commanded - die for the Truth. Remember the holy lessons we heard together on those nights, those happy nights, when both the present and future smiled upon us- -when even the gift of eternal life came more welcome to my soul, from the glad conviction that thou wert to be a sharer in its blessings;-shall I forfeit now that divine privilege? shall I deny the true God, whom we then learned to love? -- "No, my own betrothed," she continued. pointing to the two rings on her finger-"behold these pledges they are both sacred. I should have been as true to thee as I am now to heaven, -nor in that life to which I am hastening shall our love be forgotten. Should the baptism of fire, through which I shall pass to-morrow, make me worthy to be heard before the throne of Grace, I will intercede for thy soul-I will pray that it may yet share with mine that inheritance, immortal and undefiled,' which Mercy offers, and that thou-and my dear mother-and I She here dropped her voice; the momentary animation, with which devotion and affection had inspired her, vanished;-and there came a darkness over all her features, a livid darkness-like the approach of death-that made me shudder through every limb. Seizing my hand convulsively, and looking at me with a fearful eagerness, He then told me in a low voice, what he had just learned from the guardian of the prison, that the band round the young Christian's brow was - oh horrible! - a compound of the most deadly poison-the hellish invention of Orcus, to satiate his vengeance, and make the fate of his poor victim secure. My first movement was to untie that fatal wreath-but it would not come away—it would not come away! Roused by the pain, she again looked in my face; but, unable to speak, took hastily from her bosom the small silver cross which she had brought with her from my cave. Having pressed it to her own lips, she held it anxiously to mine, and, seeing me kiss the holy symbol with fervour, looked happy, and smiled. The agony of death seemed to have passed away;-there came suddenly over her features a heavenly light, some share of which I felt descending into my own soul, and, in a few minutes more, she expired in my arms. Here ends the Manuscript; but, on the outer cover is found, in the handwriting of a much later period, the following Notice, extracted, as it appears, from some Egyptian martyrology: "ALCIPHRON -an Epicurean philosopher, converted to Christianity, A. D. 257, by a young Egyptian maiden, who suffered martyrdom in that year. Immediately upon her death he betook himself to the desert, and lived a life, it is said, of much 1 We find poisonous crowns mentioned by Pliny, under the designation of "coronæ ferales." Paschalius, too, gives the following account of these "deadly garlands," as he calls them: "Sed mirum est tam salutare inventum humanam nequitiam reperisse, quomodo ad nefarios usus traducent. Nempe, repertæ sunt nefandæ coronæ harum, quas dixi, tam salubrium per nomen quidem et speciem imitatrices, at re et effectu ferales, atque adeo capitis, cui imponuntur, interfectrices."-De Coronis. holiness and penitence. During the persecution under Dioclesian, his sufferings for the faith were most exemplary; and being at length, at an advanced age, condemned to hard labour, for refusing to comply with an Imperial edict, he died at the Brass Mines of Palestine, A. D. 297.— by Athanasian writers, who, among other charges, accuse him of having been addicted to the superstitions of Egypt. For this calumny, however, there appears to be no better foundation than a circumstance, recorded by one of his brother monks, that there was found, after his death, a "As Alciphron held the opinions maintained small metal mirror, like those used in the cere since by Arius, his memory has not been spared monies of Isis, suspended around his neck." ALCIPHRON: A FRAGMENT. LETTER I. FROM ALCIPHRON AT ALEXANDRIA TO CLEON AT ATHENS. WELL may you wonder at my flight From those fair Gardens, in whose bowers Is left to grace this world of ours. Where all is found that all desire, That Fancy's self to bliss hath given, Her sister Pleasure's smile, that, loth We finish by embracing both. Yes, such the place of bliss, I own, Fondly, in thought, I wing my flight Down the green slope its lengthen'd shade, There sits some fair Athenian maid, And, by her side, a youthful sage And now to tell thee-what I fear Like clouds, that, ere we've time to say "How bright the sky is!" shade the sky. So causelessly they've come and flown, This thought it was that came to shed Ere night may be the earth-worm's prey; Of draining to its dregs the whole, Thou know'st that night-the very last When he set Pleasure on the throne Of this bright world, and wrote her law That night, when all our mirth was o'er, Some mournful secret in their light; And ask'd them, 'mid that silence, why Man, glorious man, alone must die, While they, less wonderful than he, Shine on through all eternity. That night-thou haply may'st forget Its loveliness-but 'twas a night And music floated every where, Such was my dream;-and, I confess, Of Gods are on him- as if, blest To let weak man disturb their rest!Though thinking of such creeds as thou And all our Garden sages think, Yet is there something, I allow, In dreams like thisWith worlds unseen, which, from the hour I first could lisp my thoughts till now, Hath master'd me with spell-like power. -a sort of link And who can tell, as we're combin'd And brightest atoms of our frame, And on the wakeful soul look in! Vain thought!--but yet, howe'er it be, Or Dove, or Tripod, ever spoke. And 'twas the words—thou'lt hear and smileThe words that phantom seem'd to speak"Go, and beside the sacred Nile "You'll find the Eternal Life you seek-" That, haunting me by night, by day, At length, as with the unseen hand Of Fate itself, urg'd me away From Athens to this Holy Land; Where, 'mong the secrets, still untaught, The myst'ries that, as yet, nor sun Nor eye hath reach'd-oh, blessed thought!— May sleep this everlasting one. Farewell-when to our Garden friends Is worthy of the School and them;Still, all their own-nor e'er forgets, Ev'n while his heart and soul pursue Th' Eternal Light which never sets, The many meteor joys that do, But seeks them, hails them with delight, Where'er they meet his longing sight. And, if his life must wane away, Like other lives, at least the day, The hour it lasts shall, like a fire With incense fed, in sweets expire. LETTER IL FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. Memphis 'Tis true, alas- the myst'ries and the lore lives, And Love, her priest, the soft responses gives. Instead of honouring Isis in those rites At Coptos held, I hail her, when she lights beam, And number o'er the nights she hath to run, Lies in deciphering some new lov'd-one's name— And where-oh where's the heart that could with- Is played in the cool current by a train stand The' unnumber'd witcheries of this sun-born land, Couldst thou but see how like a poet's dream Of laughing nymphs, lovely as she ', whose chain For oh, believe not them, who dare to brand, Of the young village girls, when carrying grapes Then, too, the scenes of pomp and joy, that make I should forget all graver mysteries, Where all that Love, Religion, Commerce gives tracts Far off, beyond the sounding cataracts— Of lotus flowers, that close above their heads, 1 Cleopatra. All lore but Love's, all secrets but that best In heaven or earth, the art of being blest! Like Summer clouds that shine themselves away- There hung a calm and solemn sunshine round 2 Apelles. |