Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

LOVE, PRESENT AND PAST.

THEY stood in their young beauty where the shade
Of kingly pines a deeper twilight made,-
A girl, whose weeping eyes were downward bent,
A youth, whose whispers love made eloquent.

And as he watch'd her colour come and go,
And saw her tears, half sad, half timid, flow,
And knew her heart was his,-all his, he told
How heaven and earth must change ere he grew cold.

"Lift up those dearest eyes, and let me read
A tale of promise in their light! No need
To bow thy drooping head in sorrow thus,-
Days, months, and years of joy shall come for us!

Mine own! mine own! it is a thought of pride
To know that none in all the world beside
Hath part with me in thy affection-none !
Fear not, I know the blessed prize I've won!

Nay, love, I pray thee weep not! Must I swear
That I am even true as thou art fair?
Come, dearest, turn, and, kneeling at thy feet,
Let me once more mine earnest vows repcat."

She heard him long in silence, and at last
She turn'd to him, as if she strove to cast
Her grief aside; "I need no vows," she said,
"Love such as mine has no mistrustful dread.

I feel all joy departs with thee; no eye
Will ever look upon me lovingly

Till thou return; the grave has closed o'er all
Who would have grieved to see these sad tears fall.

Thou art mine all. It is a fearful thing
To love as I love thee! I can but cling
To onc, one only hope,-that time may ne'er
Bring change to thee, to my poor heart despair.

Surely thou wilt but smile when others scorn
Thine own betrothed, the poor and lowly born,
Knowing how great a wealth of love was given
To thee, mine only friend on this side heaven.

Go now, while I am calm.
We two shall meet again!

God knoweth where
Go, with my prayer

Still sounding in thy heart! Go on thy way,
Mine own beloved! God keep thee night and day!"

They parted; years roll'd on before they stood
Once more together, in far other mood

Than when they said farewell; at last he came,
Gay as of old, to all but her the same.

To her, alas! to her those years had brought
A mournful change in aspect and in thought.
There was a stillness in her eye and air
That told of conquer'd passion, long-past care.
Theirs was a sudden meeting, yet it woke
No change in her pale face; and then she spoke
Of that last parting, where the pines were green,
As if her dream of love had never been.

And he, who thought to hear but words of blame,
Laugh'd lightly, and recall'd his boyish flame;
"We must be friends," he cried, " for all the joy
Of that old time when we were girl and boy-"

He stopp'd; for as he spoke, a bitter smile
Pass'd o'er her lips; and o'er his thoughts, the while,
There came remembrance of her love and truth
Before his falsehood blighted her fair youth.

"We never can be friends, for friends should feel
Kind sympathy," she said, "in woe or weal.
My broken trust no time can e'er renew,
I shall be lonely all this long life through.

There was a time when thou and I were one
In hope, in thought, in love; it seem'd that none
E'er loved with deeper earnestness of faith,
Defying change and sorrow, care and death.

There was a time when at thy lightest word
My pulse leap'd wildly and my heart was stirr'd,
Re-echoing the passion of thine own,
Cleaving in this wide world to thee alone.

Then at thy footstep how the red blood came
Flushing my cheek! how at thy very name
I trembled, lest a stranger's eye should see
How wildly my young spirit clung to thee!

I blame thee not, for now my alter'd heart
Is cold, and I am tranquil as thou art;
Nothing remains of that old love of mine,
I have no part in joy or grief of thine.

At times I weep to think such love could be,
And yet have pass'd away like mine for thee;
To think that I can gaze with unchanged brow
On thee,-on thee! as I am gazing now.

At times there come old thoughts across my brain,
Shadows of joy I cannot know again.

Come they to thee? Ah, no! for thou would'st weep
If those wild shadows came to haunt thy sleep.

Surely thou could'st not smile, if e'er to thee
Such visions came as often come to me!
I tremble at their presence, though I know
My heart is dead and cold to all below.

I seem to hear again that blessed stream,
The music of the pine-tree fills my dream,
Thy hand clasps mine, thy voice is in mine ear,
The voice my waking soul unmoved can hear.

Yea! one by one, past hours of bliss return;
I wake and weep, and then my heart will yearn,
Feeling one hour of love's own smiles and tears
Were better far than these dull, hopeless years.

I do not blame thee now; I said the truth:
My heart is cold and dead, my very youth
Is wither'd with its generous thoughts. Alas!
How changed I am from all that once I was.

At times I see a vision dark and strange

-

A woman weeping that thy heart could change!
Loud is the wail of her fierce agony,
Bitter and wild her eager prayer to die.

Oh! if that dreary vision ever cross'd

Thy soul, e'en now, when all our love is lost,
Thou couldst not smile as thou hast smiled to-day,
Of all the crowd most heartless and most gay.

Strange! strange how all are pass'd-love, hope, and grief;
My love than thine scarce truer or less brief!
Strange how I hear thy voice and tremble not,
Even with all the past still unforgot.

I deem'd that grief would dwell with me for aye;
But time roll'd on, and sorrow died away,
And now we meet as strangers meet, and I
Feel nothing of that long-past agony.

We, who once boasted Death should hardly tear
Us two apart, not dreaming we could bear
All that we since have borne, and now can brook;
Thus meeting coldly with unchanging look.

How those who see us meet would laugh to know
That once the passion of thy soul could flow
In burning words to me,-thy beautiful,'-
Me, who am now so spiritless, so dull.

Alas! methinks I would recall again
The cruel past with all its hours of pain,
Rather than be the thing I am,-unmoved
To grief or joy by thee, my once beloved!"

A DINNER IN ANCIENT EGYPT.

COMPARED with the profuse luxury of an ancient Egyptian dinner, our modern dinners, with all their gastronomical appliances, are little better than starveling sophistications. If the allegation of lost arts be sustained or demonstrated by a critical survey of the Egyptian laboratory, workshop, or factory, eating on a gigantic scale may also be regarded as one of the artes perdite. England has been pronounced to be an "eminently dining nation;" and it has been sarcastically said that "her hypocrites cannot harangue, her knaves cannot intrigue, her dupes cannot subscribe, and her cabinet ministers cannot consult without the intervention of a dinner." But let us examine the history of dinners in an inverse order, tracing their genealogy backwards from England's Modern Babylon to Egypt's "City of Thrones," and we shall be compelled to admit our inferiority. The stream inverting the natural order grows wider and deeper as you ascend to its source. gulosity of Parson Adams and Tom Jones yields to Massinger's Justice Greedy, and his ideas of various and substantial dishes must give precedence to Chaucer's Franklein:

The

"Withouten bake mete never was his house,

Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous, It snewed in his hall of mete and drinke, Ofevery dainty that men could of thinke."

system. There was the jentaculum, the prandium, the merenda, the cænum, the comissatio. What an enviable digestion the Romans must have had, especially when we consider their dishes, their roast boars, swines' bellies, goats and squirrels, cranes, peacocks, swans, and guinea-pigs!

But, after all, what were English to the Roman gourmands who preceded, and, perhaps, taught them? Think of Esop's single dish that cost 800l., of Domitian's rhombus, of Vitellius's shield of Minerva, of Maximin's elephantine breakfasts, of Heliogabalus's parrot tongues! What glory to the imperial glutton who offered half his empire for a new sauce; what spirit in the resolution of Apicius when he destroyed himself because he had only 220,000l. sterling left to be devoted to the purposes of gastronomy!

Yet what was Roman gluttony compared to the gigantic gourmandism of Egypt! Plutarch records the memorable circumstance of fifteen boars being roasted whole for a supper of Antony and Cleopatra; and Lucian describes a dinner given by the "Gipsy Queen" to Cæsar during a former liaison, which was "mounted" on the same gigantic scale :

Look again at the frequency of the Roman meals, and we shall be quickly satisfied (which Roman gastronomy was not) that our meals are parsimonious and unsatisfactory innovations on a grand omnivorous

"With dainties Egypt piled the groaning board,

Whatever sea, or sky, or land afford.”

This, too, was in the decline of Egypt under the Greek dynasty! From that er pede Herculem we may infer how Gargantuan were her repasts in the zenith of her greatness. Homer, who had grateful reminiscences of the dinners given by the kings and magnates of the Theban City of Thrones, leads to a favourable imagination of the scale on which they were conducted by describing the glorious spreads in which the Grecian heroes of the Iliad, their contemporaries, indulged. We will take the first example that occurs.

"Patroclus o'er the blazing fire Heaps in the brazen vase three chines entire ;

The brazen vase Automedon sustains, Which flesh of porker, sheep, and goat contains ;

Achilles at the genial feast presides,
The parts transfixes and with skill divides.
Meanwhile Patroclus sweats the fire to

raise,

The tent is brighten'd with the rising blaze;

Then, when the lingering flames at length subside,

He strews the bed of glowing embers wide;

Above the coals the smoking fragments

turns,

And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns. With bread the glittering canisters they

load, Which round the board Menætius' son bestow'd,

Who, opposite Ulysses, full in sight,
Each portion parts and orders all aright.
The first fat portion to the immortal
pow'rs

Amid the greedy flames Patroclus pours;
Then each indulging in the social feast,
The rage of hunger and of thirst represt.'

It is a curious reflection that the ancient Thebans, seated in chairs in the English (not the Roman) fashion, the ladies being intermixed with the gentlemen, often dined off roast beef and goose; that they had their puddings and pies; that they drank their beer out of glasses, and their wine out of decanters; that they challenged each other as we now do, and drank toasts and healths. They had whets before dinner, like the Russians, consisting of pungent vegetables or strong cordials, handed round the drawing-room, previous to applying the test of the appetite to the more substantial luxuries of the dining

room.

Though beef and goose (mutton was excluded in compliment to the ram-headed Ammon) constituted the staple articles of a good dinner in the

City of Thrones," other rarities and substantials were added at the tables of the rich, such as widgeons, quails, wild ducks, kid, and fish of various kinds, intermixed with an endless succession of vegetables.

In one respect we might take a lesson from the Egyptian bon virant. The torture of suspense to which a dinner-party in our civilised times is exposed during the awful hour which precedes dinner has often furnished the essayist and the Cockney with materials of eloquent complaint. "They managed these things better" in the "hundred-gated" metropolis. The Egyptian bon vivants had music to entertain their guests both before and after that meal, which, according to a learned authority, constitutes the most serious as well as agreeable occupation of our existence.

Generally, dinner was served without a cloth; although there are instances of linen coverings in imitation of palm-leaves. Plates were occasionally used; perhaps knives, as both are seen among the painted frescoes of the tombs exhibited on sideboards. There was no fork school," because there were no forks. There might, nevertheless, have been a "silver-spoon school,"

silver

without any reflection on the mental acuteness of the real Theban "Amphytrion," for he is the "real Amphytrion with whom one dines." Spoons were used instead of forks, with a similar bowl, but with a shorter handle than ours. Those in the British Museum are of ornamented tortoise-shell, ivory, and alabaster. There can scarcely be a doubt that similar utensils of silver and gold were used at the great tables. Considering that the chief dishes were rich soups and stews, spoons were at all events a more civilised custom than Chinese chopsticks or Turkish fingers. It is not improbable that both knife and silver spoon were used. Dinner was served on a round table. Near the dishes were placed ornamented rolls of wheaten bread; trays of which, in readiness, were also profusely heaped on adjacent sideboards. Homer says, speaking of a Theban banquet, "the glittering canisters were piled with bread;" napkins and water-ewers were supplied the guests by beautiful slaves of both sexes who waited on them, and who presented them wine in goblets. Ionians and Greeks, as well as Negroes, are undoubtedly among them. The dessert generally consisted of grapes, dates, and figs. Changes were made by removing the table, with all the dishes upon it, and substituting in this manner a second and third course.

The frescoes which record these circumstances depict the luxurious variety of a Theban dinner. Others record a ponderous profusion and abundant simplicity, more consonant to the banquet of Achilles.

Complete pictures are seen in the tombs of the whole preparatory process, ab ovo. First appears the poultry-yard, with the cooped and fattened poultry in the process of se lection and plucking; next, the shambles; and lastly, the kitchen, where we have the whole culinary process laid open before us. First the ox is slaughtered and divided into joints; some for roasting and stewing, and some for boiling. Ribs of beef, fillets, legs of beef, calves'head, liver, hearts, and tongues, seem But to be the favourite joints. some are perfectly indescribable by any modern designation; and others, though unique, are still traditionally

« НазадПродовжити »