considerable mental capacities. Though his nature was haughty and disdainful towards individuals, yet as to political communion, his ambition was by no means purely self-seeking and egotistic, like that of the elder Dionysius. Animated with vehement love of power, he was at the same time penetrated with that sense of regulated polity and submission of individual will to fixed laws, which floated in the atmosphere of Grecian talk and literature, and stood so high in Grecian morality. He was, moreover, capable of acting with enthusiasm, and braving every hazard in prosecution of his own convictions. Born about the year 408 B. C., Dion was twenty years of age in 387 B. C., when the elder Dionysius, having dismantled Rhegium and subdued Kroton, attained the maximum of his dominion, as master of the Sicilian and Italian Greeks. Standing high in the favour of his brother-in-law Dionysius, Dion doubtless took part in the wars whereby this large dominion had been acquired; as well as in the life of indulgence and luxury which prevailed generally among wealthy Greeks in Sicily and Italy, and which to the Athenian Plato appeared alike surprising and repulsive. That great philosopher visited Italy and Sicily about 387 B. C. He was in acquaintance and fellowship with the school of philosophers called Pythagoreans; the remnant of the Pythagorean brotherhood, who had once exercised so powerful a political influence over the cities of those regions, and who still enjoyed considerable reputation, even after complete political downfall, through individual ability and rank of the members, combined with habits of recluse study, mysticism, and attachment among themselves. With these Pythagoreans Dion also, a young man of open mind and ardent aspirations, was naturally thrown into communication by the proceedings of the elder Dionysius in Italy. Through them he came into intercourse with Plato, whose conversation made an epoch in his life. The mystic turn of imagination, the sententious brevity, and the mathematical researches of the Pythagoreans, produced doubtless an imposing effect upon Dion; just as Lysis, a member of that brotherhood, had acquired the attachment and influenced the sentiments of Epaminondas at Thebes. But Plato's power of working upon the minds of young men was far more impressive and irresistible. He possessed a large range of practical experience, a mastery of politi cal and social topics, and a charm of eloquence, to which the Pythagoreans were strangers. The stirring effects of the Socratic talk, as well as of the democratical atmosphere in which Plato had been brought up, had developed all the communicative aptitude of his mind; and great as that aptitude appears in his remaining dialogues, there is ground for believing that it was far greater in his conversation. Brought up as Dion had been at the court of Dionysiusaccustomed to see around him only slavish deference and luxurious enjoyment-unused to open speech or large philosophical discussion-he found in Plato a new man exhibited, and a new world opened before him. He As the stimulus from the teacher was here put forth with consummate efficacy, so the predisposition of the learner enabled it to take full effect. Dion became an altered man both in public sentiment and in individual behaviour. He recollected that, twenty years before, his country, Syracuse, had been as free as Athens. He learned to abhor the iniquity of the despotism by which her liberty had been overthrown, and by which subsequently the liberties of so many other Greeks in Italy and Sicily had been trodden down also. He was made to remark that Sicily had been half barbarized through the foreign mercenaries imported as the despot's instruments. conceived the sublime idea or dream of rectifying all this accumulation of wrong and suffering. It was his first wish to cleanse Syracuse from the blot of slavery, and to clothe her anew in the brightness and dig nity of freedom, yet not with the view of restoring the popular government as it had stood prior to the usurpation, but of estab lishing an improved constitutional polity, originated by himself, with laws which not only secure individual rights, but also educate and moralize the citizens. The function which he imagined to himself. and which the conversation of Plato suggested, was not that of a despot like Dionysius, but that of a despotic legislator Lycurgus, tak ing advantage of a momentary omnipotence, conferred upon him by grateful citizens in a state of public confusion, to originate a good system, which, when once put in motion, would keep itself alive by fashioning the minds of the citizens to its own intrinsic excellence. GEORGE GROTE THE VOYAGE. [HEINRICH HEINE, a German poet and critic, of very trenchant though unequal powers, born at Düsseldorf in 1797, died at Paris in 1856. Heine's Werke have been collected in seven volumes, Philadelphia, 1857. His best productions are the "Reisebilde or Pictures of Travel," and his songs. His style is often brilliant and witty, with a persistent undercurrent of melancholy, and traces of suffering and disappointment.] As at times the moonbeam pierces Through the thickest cloudy rack, So to me, through days so dreary, One bright image struggles back. Seated all on deck, we floated Down the Rhine's majestic stream; On its borders, summer-laden, Slept the peaceful evening gleam. Brooding, at the feet I laid me Lutes were ringing, youths were singing, Swelled my heart with feelings strange; Bluer grew the heaven above us, Wider grew the spirit's range. Fairy-like beside us flitted Rock and ruin, wood and plain; And I gazed on all reflected In my loved one's eyes again. THE LORE-LEI. I know not whence it rises, This thought so full of woe; But a tale of times departed Haunts me, and will not go. The air is cool, and it darkens, And calmly flows the Rhine, The mountain-peaks are sparkling In the sunny evening-shine. And yonder sits a maiden, The fairest of the fair; With a golden comb she combs it; The boatman feels his bosom With a nameless longing move: He sees not the gulfs before him, His gaze is fixed above; Till over boat and boatman The Rhine's deep waters run: And this, with her magic singing, The Lore-lei has done! HEINRICH HEINR THE EMIGRANTS. [FERDINAND FREILIGRATH, a German poet and republican, born at Detmold, 1810, died in 1876. His early poems, full of the spirit of liberty, brought him prosecution, and a long exile, spent in London. Returning in 1848, he shared in the revolution which ran over Europe in that year. He was imprisoned, tried, and though acquitted, forced to leave his native country. Besides his own poems, many of which have a fine Oriental coloring, and exhibit rich imagination, he has made fine translations of Victor Hugo's poems, of Burns, and a selection of the American poets.] I cannot take my eyes away From you, ye busy, bustling band! Your little all to see you lay Each, in the waiting seaman's hand! Ye men, who from your necks set down The heavy basket, on the earth, Of bread from German corn, baked brown By German wives, on German hearth! And you, with braided queues so neat, Black-Forest maidens, slim and brown How careful on the sloop's green seat You set your pails and pitchers down! Ah! oft have home's cool, shady tanks These pails and pitchers filled for you: On far Missouri's silent banks, Shall these the scenes of home renew. The stone-rimmed fount in village street, That as ye stooped, betrayed your smiles; The hearth and its familliar seat; The mantle and the pictured tiles. Soon, in the far and wooded West, Shall log-house walls therewith be graced; Soon, many a tired, tawny guest Shall sweet refreshment from them taste. From them shall drink the Cherokee, No more from German vintage ye [THOMAS PARNELL, born in Ireland, 1679, a brilliant wit and poet, educated in Dublin, and after a distinguished career in London, determined to revisit Ireland, but died at Chester on his way to Ireland, and was interred there (as the register of Trinity Church states) on the 18th of October, 1718. Parnell was an accomplished scholar and a delightful companion. His Life was written by Goldsmith, who was proud of his distinguished Jountryman, considering him the last of the great school that had modelled itself upon the ancients. Parnell's works are of a miscellaneous nature-translations, songs, hymns, epistles, etc. His most celebrated piece is "The Hermit," familiar to most readers from their infancy. Pope pronounced it to be "very good;" and its sweetness of diction and picturesque solemnity of style must always please. His "Night-piece on Death," was indirectly preferred by Goldsmith to Gray's celebrated "Elegy;" but few men of taste or feeling will subscribe to such an opinion. In the "Night-piece," Parnell meditates among the tombs. Tired with poring over the pages of schoolmen and sages, he sallies out at midnight to the churchyard.] How deep yon azure dyes the sky! That steeple guides thy doubtful sight "Time was, like thee, they life possessed, The flat smooth stones that bear a name, Men half ambitious, all unknown. THE HERMIT. Far in a wild, unknown to public view, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. And skies beneath with answering colours glow; But, if a stone the gentle sea divide, To find if books, or swains, report it right- He quits his cell; the pilgrim-staff he bore, And, "Hail, my son!" the reverend sire replied. Words followed words, from question answer flowed, And talk of various kind deceived the road; Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray; Nature, in silence, bid the world repose, When, near the road, a stately palace rose. There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, Whose verdure crowned their sloping sides with grass. It chanced the noble master of the dome Yet stiil the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down, At length 'tis morn, and, at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals the zephyrs play; Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring wood to banish sleep. Up rise the guests, obedient to the call, An early banquet decked the splendid hall; Rich luscious wine a golden goblet graced, Which the kind master forced the guests to taste. Then, pleased and thankful, from the porch they go; And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe; His cup was vanished; for in secret guise, The younger guest purloined the glittering prize. As one who spies a serpent in his way, Glistening and basking in the summer ray, Disordered stops to shun the danger near, Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; So seemed the sire, when, far upon the road, And much he wished, but durst not ask to part; Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard That generous actions meet a base reward. While thus they pass, the sun his glory shrouds, The changing skies hang out their sable clouds ; A sound in air presaged approaching rain, And beasts to covert scud across the plain. Warned by the signs, the wandering pair re treat To seek for shelter at a neighboring seat. 'Twas built with turrets, on a rising ground, And strong, and large, and unimproved around; Its owner's temper timorous and severe, Unkind and griping, caused a desert there. As near the miser's heavy door they drew, Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew; The nimble lightning, mixed with showers, began, And o'er their heads loud rolling thunders ran; Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, Driven by the wind, and battered by the rain. At length some pity warmed the master's breast 'Twas then his threshold first received a guest Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wineEach hardly granted-served them both to dine; And when the tempest first appeared to cease, In one so rich, a life so pure and rude; Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside? But what new marks of wonder soon take place In every settling feature of his face. When, from his vest, the young companion bore That cup, the generous landlord owned be- | Perplexed with roads; a servant shewed the fore, And paid profusely with the precious bowl, But now the clouds in airy tumult fly; And the glad master bolts the weary gate. With all the travail of uncertain thought: His partner's acts without their cause appear; 'Twas there a vice, and seemed a madness here: Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, The courteous master hears, and thus replies: Warned by a bell, and close the hour with At length the world, renewed by calm repose, O strange return! grew black, and gasped, Horror of horrors! what! his only son! way; A river crossed the path; the passage o'eer The youth, who seemed to watch a time to sin, Plunging he falls, and rising, lifts his head, 46 dead. While sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries: When the strange partner seemed no longer ; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair: Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. "Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice In sweet memorial rise before the throne: And force an angel down, to calm thy mind; Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder | And bids the doubting sons of men be still. part, And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. Confused, and struck with silence at the He flies, but trembling, fails to fly with speed; What strange events can strike with more surprise, Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes? Yet, taught by these, confess the Almighty just, And, where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. |