THE REVELS OF THE CÆSARS.

AMELIA B. EDWARDS.

MAGINE, O learned Apelles, that it is now the tenth hour of the Roman day. There has this morning been a chariot race, followed by a show of gladiators, and the victors have just gone down through the valley crowned with palm leaves and ribbons. Now we hear a sound of flutes and clarions. A company of the Pretorian guard advances, followed by musicians and fire-bearers, after whom comes the emperor, clothed in a long white robe and crowned with roses. He is followed by some two dozen Roman nobles, all in festive dress; and another company of guards brings up the rear. They are going to sup in the imperial banqueting hall.

Believe, O Apelles, I, the sibyl, tell thee those ruined arches once echoed to the sounds of feasting. See the stuccoed flutes and garlands, the amphora, the groups of revellers yet fresh upon the hollow of the vault. Let us follow the emperor. Let us pass, invisible, through the guards at the portal, and the crowd of Sicilian pantomimists, slaves, and dependents in the outer hall. Guided by the sound of music, let us penetrate to the cœnaculum itself. Here, on semicircular couches, recline the emperor and his guests, their hair redolent of fragrant ointments, their fingers covered with rings, and their jewelled slippers lying beside them on the floor. Each man holds in his left hand a napkin with a gold and purple fringe. On the tables stand small images of the gods. At the lower end of the room is an elevated stage, on which a party of buffoons are performing a comic interlude. The visitors play at dice between the courses. Now and then, through revolving compartments in the ceiling, flowers and perfumes are showered down upon the feasters; while slaves stand by, whose duty it is to fan away the flies, and bring fresh towels and scented waters to the guests, after each dish.

The feast begins to the sound of trumpets, and slaves carry round cups of Falernian wine, flavored with honey. Then come cray-fish from Misenum, mullets from the Baiæ, lampreys, and perhaps a sturgeon, which is weighed alive at table, allowed to expire before the eyes of the guests, and then carried off to the kitchen, presently to appear again, cooked with a rich sauce of wine. Then come dishes of nightingales, thrushes, roasted shrimps, African cockles, Melian cranes, Ambracian kid, and a boar from the Umbrian forests, roasted whole, and stuffed with beef and veal. This is carved by the carptor, with pantomimic gestures, to the sound of music.

Next some jars of rare Massic and Chian wines are opened, a libation is poured out to the gods; and the emperor pledges his guests. Then enter four musicians playing on double flutes, followed by as many servants crowned with flowers. They bring the royal dish of the entertainment—a peacock with all its plumage displayed, on a salver garlanded with roses. At this sight, the guests burst into murmurs of applause, and salute the emperor. The buffoons now retire, and a couple of gladiators make their appearance on the stage, armed with helmets, bucklers, greaves, and short swords.

Supper being now over, and the dessert about to be brought on, the feasters have leisure to enjoy this more exciting amusement. Additional cushions are brought; spiced wines are handed round; the tables are cleared; fresh cloths are laid; the guests lean back; the emperor gives the signal, and the gladiators begin their combat.

Now pistachio nuts, dates, Venafran olives, Matian apples, pears, grapes, dried figs, mushrooms, sweet cakes, preserves, and all kinds of delicate confectionery molded into curious and graceful devices, are placed upon the tables. Conversation becomes animated. A gladiator falls, mortally wounded; the spectators cry habet! A fresh combatant replaces him, and the emperor himself deigns to bet upon the victor.

Thus amid bloodshed, dicing, wine, and feasting, the hours pass by, and the entertainment draws to a close. Valuable presents are

then distributed to the guests. One gets a precious ring, one a robe of Tyrian dye, another a sketch by Parrhasius, another a bust of Hadrian in colored marbles; and thus each takes his leave, enriched and feasted, and pours a last libation to the health of the emperor and the honor of the gods.

THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALLGREENE.

TT was a blind beggar, had long lost his sighte,

Hee had a faire daughter of bewty most brighte,

And many a gallant brave suitor had shee,

For none was soe comelye as prettye Bessee.

And though shee was of favour most faire,
Yett seeing shee was but a poor beggar's heyre,
Of ancyent housekeepers despisèd was shee,
Whose sons came as suitors to prettye Bessee.

Wherefore, in great sorrow faire Bessee did say,
"Good father and mother, let mee goe away,
To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee."
This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.

She went on her journey untill it was day,
And came unto Rumford along the hye-way;
Where at the Queen's Arms, entertainèd was shee,
Soe faire and wel-favoured was prettye Bessee.

Shee had not been there a month to an end,
But master and mistress and all was her friend;
And every brave gallant that once did her see,
Was straitway enamoured of prettye Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joye;
Shee showed herself curteous and modestlye coye;
And at her commandment, still wold they bee,
Soe faire and soe comelye was prettye Bessee.

Four suitors att once unto her did goe;
They craved her favor, but still shee sayd "Noe;
I wold not wish gentles to marry with mee."
Yett ever they honoured prettye Bessee.

The first of them was a gallant young knighte,
And hee came unto her disguised in the nighte.
The second, a gentleman of good degree,

Who wooed and sued for prettye Bessee.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
Hee was the third suitor, and proper withall.

Her master's own sonne the fourth man must bee,
Who swore hee would dye for prettye Bessee.

"And if thou wilt marry with mee," quoth the knighte,
"Ile make thee a ladye with joy and delighte;
My heart's soe inthralled by thy bewty,
That soone I shall dye for prettye Bessee."

The gentleman sayd: "Come marry with mee,
As fine as a ladye my Bessee shall bee;
My life is distressed; oh, heare mee," quoth hee,
"And grant mee thy love, my prettye Bessee."

"Let mee bee thy husband," the merchant did say;
"Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay;
My shippes shall bring home rych jewells for thee,
And I will forever love prettye Bessee."

Then Bessee shee sighed, and thus shee did say:
"My father and mother I meane to obey;
First gett their good will, and be faithfull to mee,
And
you shall marry your prettye Bessee."

To every one this answer shee made, Wherefore unto her they joyfully sayd: "This thing to fulfill wee all doe agree;

But where dwells thy father, my prettye Bessee ?”

My father," shee sayd, "is soone to bee seene:

The seely blind beggar of Bednall-Greene,

That daylye sits begging for charitie,

Hee is the good father of prettye Bessee."

"Nay then," quoth the merchant, "thou art not for mee." "Nor," quoth the innholder, "my wiffe thou shalt bee." "I lothe," sayd the gentle, "a beggar's degree,

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And, therefore, adewe, my prettye Bessee!"

Why, then," quoth the knighte, "hap better or worse,

I waighe not true love by the waight of the purse;
And bewty is bewty in every degree;

Then welcome unto mee, my prettye Bessee."

And soone after this, by breake of the day,

The knighte had from Rumford stole Bessee away;
The young men of Rumford, as thicke as might bee,
Rode after to fetch againe prettye Bessee.

But rescew came speedilye over the plaine,

Or else the young knighte for his love had been slaine.
This fray being ended, then straitway wee see
His kinsmen come rayling at prettye Bessee.

Then spake the blind beggar: "Although I bee poore,
Yett rayle not against my child at my own doore;
Though shee bee not decked in velvett and pearle,
Yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle.

"But first you shall promise, and have itt well known, The gold that you dropp shall all bee your owne." With that they replyed, " Contented bee wee;" "Then here's," quoth the beggar, "for prettye Bessee."