Like sibyl's leaves, collects the builder's name
Rejoiced, and the green medals frequent found
Doom Caracalla to perpetual fame:

The stately pines, that spread their branches wide
In the dun ruins of its ample halls,

Appear but tufts; as may whate'er is high

Sink in comparison, minute and vile.

John Dyer.

IN

MINERVA MEDICA.

ancient Rome a temple stands,
Around whose aged feet

The tide flows up from many lands,
And eddies through the street;

The human tide that ceaseless pours
To break its waves on Rome,
And gathers from a thousand shores
Its scallop shells and foam.

That temple's shrines are empty now,
Its altars dark and bare,

The goddess of the marble brow
No longer worshipped there.

No longer wings her spells abroad
The fevered pulse to heal,
And unrelenting, if implored,
Were deaf to each appeal.

"Restore, restore," she seems to say,
"The homage which ye gave,

And when laborious pains ye pay,
I will consent to save."

Her home was on the radiant shores
Where snow-white Athens shines;
How beautiful her servitors,

How stately were her shrines!

And how, from farthest east to west,
And by the unknown sea,
What goddess was so well beloved,
So much revered, as she!

A sweeter faith is now enshrined
In Athens and in Rome;
Her honors everywhere declined,
Her priests without a home.

And even what she nobly taught,
And what she symbolled then,
Is banished out of human thought,
And quite forgot by men.

And yet methinks her statue stands,
And makes a mute appeal,
"Give helpful blessing, all ye lands,
On women bent to heal."

Bessie Rayner Parkes.

Rome, Streets of.

VIA SACRA.

MUSING, as wont, on this and that,

Such trifles as I know not what, When late the street I sauntered through, A wight, whose name I hardly knew, Approaching pertly, makes me stand, And thus accosts me, hand in hand: "How do you do, my sweetest man?" Quoth I, "As well as mortal can, And my best wishes yours, when he Would follow. What's your will with me?" "That one of your profound discerning Should know me: I'm a man of learning." "Why, then, be sure upon that score You merit my regard the more.” Impatient to discard the fop, One while I run, another stop, And whisper, as he presses near, Some nothing in my servant's ear. But while at every pore I sweated, And thus in muttering silence fretted, 'Bolanus, happy in a skull

66

Of proof, impenetrably dull,

O for a portion of thy brains!".

He on the town and streets and lanes
His prating, praising talent tried,

And, when I answered not, he cried:

Ay, 't is too plain; you can't deceive me, You miserably wish to leave me,

But I shall never quit you so;

Command me, whither would you go?" You do me honor, but, in short,

There's not the least occasion for 't.

I visit one, - to cut the strife,
You never saw him in your life;
Nor would I lead you such a round,
He lives above a mile of ground
Beyond the Tiber.” "Never talk
Of distance, for I love a walk.
I never have the least enjoyment
In idleness: I want employment.
Come on; I must and will attend
Your person to your journey's end."
Like vicious ass, that fretting bears
A wicked load, I hang my ears,
While he, renewing his civilities,
"If well I know my own abilities,
Not Viscus, though your friend of yore,
Not Varius could engage you more;
For who can write melodious lays
With greater elegance or ease?

Who moves with smoother grace his limbs
While through the mazy dance he swims?
Besides, I sing to that degree,

Hermogenes might envy me."

"Have you no mother, sister, friends, Whose welfare on your health depends?"

"Not one; I saw them all by turns
Securely settled in their urns."
"Thrice happy they, secure from pain!
And I thy victim now remain :
Despatch me; for my goody-nurse
Early presaged this heavy curse :
She conned it by the sieve and shears,
And now it falls upon my ears,
Nor poison fell, with ruin stored,
Nor horrid point of hostile sword,
Nor pleurisy, nor asthma-cough,
Nor cripple-gout shall cut him off;
A noisy tongue and babbling breath
Shall tease and talk my child to death.
But if he would avert his fate,
When he arrives at man's estate,
Let him avoid, as he would hanging,
Your folks long-winded in haranguing.
We came to Vesta's about ten,
And he was bound in person then
To stand a suit, or by the laws
He must have forfeited his cause.
"Sir, if you love me, step aside
A little into court," he cried.
"If I can stand it out," quoth I,
"Or know the practice, let me die;
Besides, I am obliged to go
Precisely to the place you know."
"I am divided what to do,

Whether to leave my cause or you.”

"Sir, I beseech you spare your pains.