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If the tale Deserve it-yes.


Then listen; it may serve For warning to thee, false one. Thou shall hear The fate of such deception. Beautiful And white as thine own arm, Peroe, was The favourite bird of Phoebus ; from its beak Radiant in purple glory, soothing words And soul-entrancing song pour'd sweetly forth; Sweetly, as from thine honied lips, my love, The siren tones of passion o'er my soul Sweep with enchanting power-he had wings Of such delicious softness, and their hues So ravishingly sweet, you would have sworn Eros himself had breath'd


them with The fragrance of Olympian roses, tints Stol'n from

maiden's blushes. O how fair Was then the raven! Once, his deity Had need of his fair service ;-"Corat, come “ My bird of beauty,” said the sun-bright god, “ Kiss with thy gentle wing the loving air “And speed thee from Olympus, to my fount “ Mine own delicious Hippocrene, hie thou, “ And of the stream's bright sparkling waters, pour “ Into this golden cup, to slake the thirst “Th' immortal longing of thy chosen god.” Swiftly through air, his wings of light he swung, And from the breast of templed Helicon Found the stream's sparkling source in starry waves Gloriously glittering; it was shaded from The sun's too ardent kiss by loving trees Bearing the luscious fig; he look'd, and long'd; Fair, as a girl, and no less curious, he Pluck'd of the fruit and tasted-to his thought Harsh and severe it seem'd, for it was green As yet unripen'd—“Patience !-Time," said he,


Brings on his hoar brow roses, will he not “ Fill his broad hand with fruits ?” and he began In that sweet shaded bower of bliss to toy Wantonly with the flowers, and kiss the leaves, And charm the birds, who, wondering, gaz'd upon His brilliant beauty, and, their hearts subdued To his perfections, sung him thrilling songs Of love and adoration. Pleas'd, he stay'd Forgetting Phæbus at his fountain's side, Until the fruit, like Autumn's regal brow, Grew rich with golden hues, and forty suns Arose and set on his abandonment ! Then he remember'd the forgotten will Of his bright deity. As he was fair As a young maid, so like a young maid, he Was wily in his thought ; a glossy snake Of many glittering hues, but chiefly bright In golden scales, near that fair fountain play'd. He seiz'd the gorgeous prize, and rapidly He bore it rustling through the air, unto His master's golden throne, and “ see, O king “ Royal Apollo,” said the artful bird, “ The cause of my delay, for by the side “ Of thine own Hippocrene, this monster lay, “ And poison'd with his everlasting thirst “ The waters of thy stream ; I dar'd not bring “ Of their bright waves for thee, till I had first “Subdued the monster, who, till this proud hour, “ Radiant with triumph I could not o'ercome “ Thy fountain's foe !"

- Liar!” exclaim'd the god, “ The Python-killer, as from his keen eye “ The lightning darted. Me, wouldst thou deceive “ With such a wretched tale !-hence, hence !-begone. « Black as thy falsehood fly through shuddering air, “ A bird of brooding night!~dumb be thy voice “ Of sweetest melody, henceforth thy cry “ Tell but of woes and horrors, a wild shriek

« Of darkness and dismay—a living horror “ Be thou to youths and maidens—and when fires “ From the fierce dog-star's eyes with fever's heat “ Shall scorch each burning breast, let all things drink “ And bless the cooling beverage, save thou! “ Thou, only thou, shalt agonize with thirst, “ And yet forbear to drink, until thy tongue “ Shall stiffen with thy torture !"

Maiden, thus
Apollo wrong'd chastis'd his favourite bird.
Is Cytherea less severe, or just ?
Bethink thee, maiden, will she not make pale
The glowing cheek, and close the ear and heart
To love's sweet sounds, of her who dares betray
Falsehood to her soft worship ?-Sweet, my kiss ;
And after, tell me why to-day, alone,
I wander'd through the beech grove? nay, declare,
For I can bear to hear it, who was he
Who fondly futter'd round thee, robbing me
Of thee, and that lov'd hour ?


First, I'll confess,
And then bestow the kiss I promis'd thee.
True is thy thought, a lover hover'd round me.
Oh, far more beautiful than thee, Learchus!
And still more gentle, and more flattering

That flattery, ah, how could I resist!
And the soft air was so delicious so
O'erpowering with its odour-that, at length,
Faint with the fragrance, and the sultry heat,
Lost in th' intoxicating dream-alas!
Frown not so sternly, dear Learchus, but
I yielded to his flatteries and his prayers,
And sunk into his arms-nay, start not-hear,
They were the arms of poppy-crowned sleep.

A. F.



In the small town of D, in which I resided for some years, we had established an amusing periodical work, of which the physician of the town, (Dr. Augustus Barmann) the magistrate, (Mr. Wermuth,) and myself, were the conductors. Mr. Wermuth furnished the learned articles, Barmann the elegant, and I those which were neither the one nor the other, or both, as occasion warranted. In the evenings we met to arrange the choicest subjects for our own publication, and to discuss and dispute the comparative merits of others ;--one of these, (the Universal Advertiser,) had just fallen under my censure for publishing an absurd ghost story; and one evening, as the Doctor and myself were alone, expecting Wermuth to join us, I employed the idle time in condemning the stupid Advertiser, and its more stupid editor, not only for the trash which he had forced upon us, but the insult offered to our understandings by the solemn and dogmatical tone in which he had told the story. I was not much surprised, though considerably amused, to observe that Barmann took up the cudgels for the editor, and condemned the over-wise (as he called the unbelievers) for pretending to know so much more than their betters; “ You think," added he warmly, “ that you only are qualified to look upon nature's fingers, and ascertain exactly how much she can do with them. You chatter, and chatter on, till you weary your hearers to death; and truly, the less you understand of a thing, the more you have to say about it."

But, in the name of common sense," demanded I, “ who can patiently listen to such bare-faced stuff as this about walking skeletons, or grant any ghostly dignity to the spiritual Gertrude, who walks about, lights candies, and allows herself to be touched as freely as any corporeal chamber-maid !”

“I repeat to you again,” said Barmann, “ that we know so little of what nature can do, that”.

“ I am almost inclined to believe," said I, “ that you are a bit of a ghost seer yourself. Did you ever, at any time, really stumble upon a spectre ?"

Although I do not intend to be posted for a visionary, Frederick,” replied Barmann, “yet I will acknowledge to you that a circumstance somewhat similar to this of the Grey


Chamber actually happened to me some time ago, and singular enough it appears, that the room in which it occurred was called the Black Chamber.".

.6. But I must hear the circumstance,” observed I. Barmann hesitated for some time, but at length consented to gratify my curiosity, which he did in the following words:

“ Some time ago, while I was still studying medicine under Dr. Wenderborn, it was his practice to reserve the town patients to himself, and as I was esteemed a good and fearless horseman, to send me to those who resided at a distance in the country. On one occasion, (the illness of a daughter who had a violent nervous fever,) I was despatched some miles in the country to Colonel de Silverstein's, where, although very little could be done for the patient, I was obliged to remain during the night, in order to satisfy the anxiety of the parents. A chamber was accordingly prepared for me, and as my patient was perfectly tranquil, I bade good night at an earlier hour than usual to the family, and retired to rest. The whole mansion had a most dreary aspect, and my chamber was by no means the most inviting apartment in it. The clumsy oldfashioned doors were painted black ; so was the ceiling, and the grotesque carved wood-work which ornamented the windows and walls. In short, nothing pleased me but the bed, which, with a fine white coverlid upon it, stood majestically against the wall, behind the rich and massy folds of ponderous green silk curtains.

“ I had determined to write down a circumstantial account of the progress of the young lady's disorder for my master's inspection, and had actually sat down to my task, though yawning heavily at every period, when something suddenly knocked at my door. I started at first, but soon recovering my composure, told the visitor in as big a tone as I could assume, to come in;' he did so, and for this time at least there was nothing very frightful; it was merely the Colonel's game-keeper, a handsome young man, who came to inquire if I had any further commands before I retired to rest. I mention all these trifling circumstances just as they occurred; for, in order to insure belief, it is necessary to be particular in these relations, even to pedantry. The game-keeper was a pleasant sort of fellow, and we conversed very cheerfully upon several different subjects. Among other civilities, he asked me whether I should not find it very dull in this dreary apartment, and offered at the same time, if I wished it, to remain with me all night. I could not forbear laughing at this sacrifice, for I observed that he was himself most horribly frightened at the dismal prospect of passing the night in the chamber, and that he often started, and looked round anxiously

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