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doubtful achievements of Semiramis, Zenobia is, perhaps, the only female, whose superior genius broke through the servile indolence imposed on her sex, by the climate and manners of Asia. She claimed her descent from the Macedonian kings of Egypt, equalled in beauty her ancestor, Cleopatra, and far surpassed that princess in chastity and valor. Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely, as well as the most heroic of her sex. She was of a dark complexion (for in speaking of a lady, these trifles become important); her teeth were of a pearly whiteness, and her large black eyes sparkled with uncommon fire, tempered by the most attractive sweetness. Her voice was strong and harmonious. Her manly understanding was strengthened and adorned by study. She was not ignorant of the Latin tongue, but possessed, in equal perfection, the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian languages. She had drawn up, for her own use, an epitome of oriental history, and familiarly compared the beauties of Homer and Plato, under the tuition of the sublime Longinus."

Such is the historian's sketch of this remarkable woman, who sought to divide with the emperors of Rome the dominion of the world. She seems to have kindled and kept alive among her subjects a devotion to her person and her throne, such as, perhaps, has never been equalled in the history of sovereigns. We present the following description of the queen of Palmyra, from the letters of Piso, as he sees her, for the first time, in the streets of her own magnificent capital. He was engaged in some negotiation in the shop of Demetrius, a celebrated worker in precious stones and metals, as the shouts with which she is hailed break upon their ears. On learning the cause of the outcry, Piso ascends with Demetrius, to the top of an adjoining market, to wait the approach of the royal procession:

"At the distance of about a mile from the walls, we soon saw the party of the queen, escorted by a large body of horse; and, approaching them from the city, apparently its whole population, some on foot, some on horse, some in carriages of every description. The plain was filled with life. The sun, shooting its beams over the whole, and reflected from the spears and corselets of the cavalry, and the gilding and polished work of chariots and harness, caused the scene to sparkle as if strewed with diamonds. It was a fair sight. But fairer than all, was it to witness, as I did, the hearty enthusiasm of the people, and even of the children, toward their lovely queen. Tears of joy, even, I could see falling from many eyes, that she was returning to them again. As soon as the near approach of Zenobia to the walls began to conceal her and her escort, then we again changed our position, and returned to the steps 6

VOL. IV. NO. XIII.

of the shop of Demetrius, as the queen would pass directly by them, on her way to the palace.

"We had been here not many moments, before the shouts of the people, and the braying of martial music, and the confused sound of an approaching multitude showed that the queen was near. Troops of horse, variously caparisoned, each more brilliantly, as it seemed, than another, preceded a train of sumptuary elephants and camels, these, too, richly dressed, but heavily loaded. Then came the body guard of the queen, in armor of complete steel,-and then the chariot of Zenobia, drawn by milk white Arabians. So soon as she appeared, the air resounded with the acclamations of the countless multitudes. Every cry of loyalty and affection was heard from ten thousand mouths, making a music such as filled the heart almost to breaking. Long live the great Zenobia! went up to the heavens. 'The blessing of all the gods on our good queen!' 'Health and happiness to the mother of her people! 'Death and destruction to her enemies!'-these, and cries of the same kind, came from the people, not as a mere lip-service, but evidently, from the tone in which they were uttered, prompted by real sentiments of love, such as it seems to me never before could have existed towards a supreme and absolute prince.

"It was to me a moment inexpressibly interesting. I could not have asked for more, than for the first time to see this great woman just as I now saw her. I cannot, at this time, even speak of her beauty, and the imposing yet sweet dignity of her manner; for it was with me, as I suppose it was with all,-the divine beauty of the emotions and sentiments which were working at her heart, and shone out in the expressive language of her countenance, took away all power of narrowly scanning complexion, feature and form. Her look was full of love for her people. She regarded them as if they were her children. She bent herself fondly towards them, as if nothing but the restraints of form withheld her from throwing herself into their arms. This was the beauty which filled and agitated me. I was more than satisfied.

"And who,' said I to Demetrius, 'is that beautiful being, but of a sad and thoughtful countenance, who sits at the side of the queen?' "That,' he replied, 'is the princess Julia; a true descendant of her great mother; and the gods grant, that she, rather than either of her brothers, may succeed to the sovereign power.'

"She looks, indeed,' said I, 'worthy to reign,-over hearts, at least, if not over nations. Those in the next chariot are, I suppose, the young Cæsars,-as I hear they are called,-about as promising, to judge by the form and face, as some of our Roman brood of the same name. I need not ask whose head that is, in the carriage next succeeding; it can belong to no other in Palmyra, than the great Longinus. What a divine repose breathes over that noble countenance! What a clear and far-sighted spirit looks out of those eyes! But,-gods of Rome and of the world!-who sits beside him? Whose dark soul is lodged in that fearful tenement?-fearful and yet beautiful, as would be a statue of ebony!'

"Know you not him? know you not the Egyptian Zabdas?— the mirror of accomplished knighthood,—the pillar of the state,—

the Aurelian of the East? Ah! far may you go to find two such men as those,-of gifts so diverse, and power so great,-sitting together like brothers. It all shows the greater power of Zenobia, who can tame the roughest and most ambitious spirits to her uses. Who is like Zenobia ?"

"So ends, it seems to me,' I replied, 'every sentence of every Palmyrene, Who is like Zenobia?"—Zenobia, Vol. I, pp. 60–62.

Again, after an intimate acquaintance at the palace of the queen, in reply to a question of the princess Julia, whether fame had done her more than justice, he bears the following testimony to her dignity and charms:

"Great as her reputation is in Rome,' I replied, 'fame has not, to my ear at least, brought any thing that more than distantly approaches a true and faithful picture of her. We have heard much, indeed, —and yet not enough,—of her surpassing beauty, of the vigor of her understanding, of her vast acquirements in the Greek learning, of the wisdom and energy of her conduct as a sovereign queen, of her skill in the chase, of her bravery and martial bearing, when, at the head of her troops, she leads them to the charge. But of this union of feminine loveliness with so much of masculine power, of this womanly grace, of this winning condescension,-so that it loses all the air of condescension,-to those much beneath her in every human accomplishment, as well as in rank, of this I had heard nothing, and for this I was not prepared. When, in the morning, I first saw her seated in all the pride of oriental state, and found myself prostrate at her feet, it was only Zenobia that I saw, and I saw what I expected. But no sooner had she spoken, especially no sooner had she cast that look upon you, princess, when you had said a few words in reply to me, than I saw, not Zenobia only, but the woman and the mother. A veil was suddenly lifted, and a new being stood before me. It seemed to me, that that moment I knew her better than I knew myself. I am sure that I knew her. Her countenance all living with emotion, changing and working with every thought of her mind, and every feeling of her heart, reveals her with the truth of a magic mirror, She is not known at Rome.'"-Zenobia, Vol. I, p. 119.

Piso, on his voyage up the Mediterranean, had received his first impressions of the Christian religion from the conversations of an intelligent fellow-passenger, by the name of Probus, a Christian, who, in a subsequent part of the story, is made to act a prominent part. At Palmyra, he again meets this same religion, which his Roman education had taught him to despise, even within the palace of Zenobia, in the person of the princess Julia, the daughter of the queen. From her lips he becomes more fully acquainted with its principles, and during his residence in the East, he is almost persuaded to be a Christian.

While his mind is occupied with the elevated inquiries thus urged upon him, he visits, in company with the princess, and Fausta, the daughter of Gracchus, the retreat of St. Thomas, an aged hermit, in the mountains of Syria, to whom Julia had often repaired for instruction in the new religion,—a character that adds not a little to the pleasing variety which spreads its charms over the work. After ascending along a steep and toilsome way, they at length arrive at the solitary dwelling of the recluse.

"Upon a rude bridge of fallen trunks of trees, we passed the stream as it crossed our path, and which, then shooting over the edge of the precipice, was lost among the rocks and woods below. A cloud of light spray fell upon us as we stood upon the bridge, and imparted a most refreshing coolness.

"Where you see,' said Julia, 'that dark entrance, beneath yonder low-browed rock, is the dwelling of the aged Christian.'

"We moved on with slow and silent steps, our spirits partaking of the stillness and solitariness of the place. We reached the front of the grotto, without disturbing the meditations of the venerable man. A part of the rock, which formed his dwelling, served him for a seat, and another part, projecting after the manner of a shelf, served him for a table, upon which lay spread open a large volume. Bending over the book, his lean and shrivelled finger pointing to the words, and aiding his now dim and feeble eye, he seemed wholly wrapped in the truths he was contemplating, and heeded not our presence. We stood still for a moment, unwilling to break a repose so peaceful and profound. At length, raising his eyes from the page, they caught the form and face of the princess, who stood nearest to him. A quick and benignant smile lighted up his features; and rising slowly to his full height, he bade her welcome, with sweet and tremulous tones, to his humble roof.

"It is kind in you,' said he, 'so soon again to ascend these rough solitudes, to visit a now unprofitable old man. And more kind still to bring others with you. Voices from the world ring a sweet music in my ear, sweeter than any sound of bird or stream. Enter, friends, if it please you, and be rested, after the toil of your ascent.'

"I bring you here, father,' said Julia, 'according to my sometime promise, my friend and companion, the daughter of Gracchus, and with her a noble Roman, of the house of Piso, lately come hither from the capital of the world.”—Zenobia, Vol. I, p. 158.

In the course of their conversation, the reverend man narrates his history, and urges upon his noble visiters the truth of the gospel, with the elevated earnestness of a Christian father:

"My father, Cyprian, a native of Syria, attained, as I have attained, to an extreme old age. At the age of fivescore years and ten, he died within the walls of this quiet dwelling of nature's own hewing,

and there, at the roots of that ancient cedar, his bones repose. He was for twenty years a contemporary of St. John, the evangelist,— of that John, who was one of the companions of Jesus, the founder of Christianity, and who, ere he died, wrote a history of Jesus, and of his acts and doctrine. From the very lips of this holy man, did the youthful but truth-loving and truth-seeking Cyprian receive his knowledge of Christianity. He sat and listened, while the aged apostle, the past rising before him with the distinctness of a picture, told of Jesus; of the mild majesty of his presence; of the power and sweetness of his discourse; of the love he bore towards all that lived; of his countenance, radiant with joy, when, in using the miraculous power intrusted to show his descent from God, he gave health to the pining sick, and restored the dying and the dead to the arms of weeping friends. There was no point of the history which the apostle has recorded for the instruction of posterity, which Cyprian did not hear, with all its minuter circumstances, from his own mouth. Nay, he was himself a witness of the exercise of that same power of God, which was committed without measure to Jesus, on the part of the apostle. He stood by,—his spirit wrapt and wonder-struck,-while at the name of Jesus the lame walked, the blind recovered their sight, and the sick leaped from their couches. When this great apostle was fallen asleep, my father, by the counsel of St. John, and that his faith might yet farther be confirmed, travelled over all the scenes of the Christian history. He visited the towns and cities of Judea, where Jesus had done his marvellous works. He conversed with the children of those who had been subjects of the healing power of the Messiah. He was with those who themselves had mingled among the multitudes who encompassed him, when Lazarus was summoned from the grave, and who clung to the cross when Jesus was upon it dying, and witnessed the sudden darkness, and felt the quaking of the earth. Finding, wherever he turned his steps in Judea, from Bethlehem to Nazareth, from the Jordan to the great sea, the whole land filled with those who, as either friends or enemies, had hung upon the steps of Jesus, and seen his miracles, what was he, to doubt whether such a person as Jesus had ever lived? or had ever done those wonderful works? He doubted not; he believed, even as he would have done, had he himself been present as a disciple. In addition to this, he saw at the places where they were kept, the evangelic histories, in the writing of those who drew them up; and at Rome, at Corinth, at Philippi, at Ephesus, he handled with his own hands the letters of Paul, which he wrote to the Christians of those places; and in those places and others, did he dwell and converse with multitudes who had seen and heard the great apostle, and had witnessed the wonders he had wrought. I, the child of Cyprian's old age, heard from him all that I have now recounted to you. I sat at his feet, as he had sat at the evangelist's, and from him I heard the various experiences of his long, laborious, and troubled life. Could I help but believe what I heard ?-and so could I help but be a Christian? My father was a man,—and all Syria knows him to have been such an one,-of a passionate love of truth. At any moment would he have cheerfully suffered torture and death, sooner than have

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