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Men's admiration, and sweet women's kisses.
The Loves about thy sepulchre weep sadly,
For Venus loved thee, much more than the kiss
With which of late she kiss'd Adonis, dying.
Thou too, O Meles, sweetest-voic'd of rivers,
Thou too hast undergone a second grief;

For Homer first, that sweet mouth of Calliope,

Was taken from thee; and they say thou mourned'st
For thy great son with many-sobbing streams,
Filling the far-seen ocean with a voice.

And now, again, thou weepest for a son,
Melting away in misery. Both of them

Were favourites of the fountain-nymphs; one drank
The Pegasean fount, and one his cup
Fill'd out of Arethuse; the former sang

The bright Tyndarid lass, and the great son
Of Thetis, and Atrides Menelaus;

But he, the other, not of wars or tears

Told us, but intermix'd the pipe he played

With songs of herds, and as he sung he fed them;
And he made pipes, and milk'd the gentle heifer,
And taught us how to kiss, and cherish'd love
Within his bosom, and was worthy of Venus

Raise, raise the dirge, Muses of Sicily.
Every renowned city and every town

Mourns for thee, Bion;-Ascra weeps thee more
Than her own Hesiod; the Baotian woods
Ask not for Pindar so; nor patriot Lesbos
For her Alcæus; nor th' Ægean isle
Her poet; nor does Paros so wish back
Archilocus; and Mitylene now,

Instead of Sappho's verses, rings with thine.
All the sweet pastoral poets weep for thee,-
Sicelidas the Samian; Lycidas,

Who used to look so happy; and at Cos,

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Philetas; and at Syracuse, Theocritus ;
All in their several dialects: and I,

I too, no stranger to the pastoral song,
Sing thee a dirge Ausonian, such as thou
Taughtest thy scholars, honouring us as all
Heirs of the Dorian Muse. Thou didst bequeath
Thy store to others, but to me thy song.

Raise, raise the dirge, Muses of Sicily.
Alas, when mallows in the garden die,
Green parsley, or the crisp luxuriant dill,
They live again, and flower another year;
But we, how great soe'er, or strong, or wise,
When once we die, sleep in the senseless earth
A long, an endless, unawakeable sleep.
Thou too in earth must be laid silently:

But the nymphs please to let the frog sing on;
Nor envy I, for what he sings is worthless.

Raise, raise the dirge, Muses of Sicily.
There came, O Bion, poison to thy mouth,
Thou did'st feel poison; how could it approach
Those lips of thine, and not be turn'd to sweet!
Who could be so delightless as to mix it,
Or bid be mix'd, and turn him from thy song!

Raise, raise the dirge, Muses of Sicily.
But justice reaches all;-and thus, meanwhile,
I weep thy fate. And would I could descend
Like Orpheus to the shades, or like Ulysses,
Or Hercules before him: I would go

To Pluto's house, and see if you sang there,
And hark to what you sang. Play to Prosèrpina
Something Sicilian, some delightful pastoral,

For she once played on the Sicilian shores,
The shores of Etna, and sang Dorian songs,
And so thou would'st be honour'd; and as Orpheus,
For his sweet harping, had his love again,
She would restore thee to our mountains, Bion.
Oh, had I but the power, I, I would do it.

THE SHIP OF HIERO.

"WE find an ample but interesting description, in Athenæus, of a magnificent and prodigious galley, that had twenty benches of rowers, contained an extraordinary number of persons, and was not only provided with dreadful means of assault, but with all that could delight the mind, and charm the sense. Baths of bronze and of Tauromenian marble, stables, a gymnasium, small gardens planted with various trees and watered by pipes, the twining vine and ivy, a library, and a sun-dial, were all in this galley. It had three decks; the second of which was inlaid with variegated mosaic work, containing the whole history of Homer's Iliad. Every necessary for repose by night, and banqueting by day, was provided with a regal luxury.

"As much timber was brought from the forest of Ætna, for the building of this galley, as would have sufficed for sixty ordinary galleys. It had three masts; and, on the upper deck, it was fortified round with a wall, and eight towers like a citadel. Each of the towers contained four combatants, completely armed, and two archers. Within, the towers were provided with missiles and stones, and on the walls stood a kind of artillery-machine, invented by Archimedes, which threw stones of three hundred weight, and a lance twelve ells in length, to the distance of a stadium, or six hundred feet.

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Each side of the wall was provided with sixty young men, well

Round

armed; and there were shooters even in the mast-cages.* the upper deck was an iron rim; where there were machines placed which would act immediately against an enemy's ship, hold it fast, and draw it to the galley. A tree sufficiently large for the main mast was long sought for in vain, till a hog driver found one in Brettia, or Bruttium, the present South Calabria. The lower deck could be pumped by a single man, with the aid of a machine which the Greeks called Koxλov, the Latins Cochlea, and which we, after its inventor, name the screw of Archimedes.

"When the wonderful work was completed, it was discovered that some of the havens of Hiero would not contain it, and that in others it was not safe. Hiero therefore sent the galley to King Ptolomy, (Ptolomæus Philadelphus, I suppose) as a present, to

Alexandria.

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'You will pardon me this borrowed but abbreviated description, taken from Athenæus, as it appears to me, not only interesting in itself, but usefully instructive to those who have formed no just idea of the mechanics of the ancients. To such persons, I recommend the chapter in Athenæus which contains this description, as well as others, in which greater ships of the Ptolomies are described; and of one which was built by Ptolomæus Philopater, that, rowers and warriors included, could contain seven thousand men."

Stolberg's Travels through Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and
Sicily (translated by Holcroft), vol. iv., p. 177.

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SERENADES IN SICILY AND NAPLES.

WE reached Alcamo in the evening; a well-built town, that contains above 8,000 inhabitants. It was built in the year 828, on the fruitful hill Bonifacio, by the Saracen Adalcamo, or Halcamo, who came from Africa; but its site was removed by the Emperor Frederick the Second to the plain in which it now stands.

* Similar perhaps to the Top or Round-top, of a man of war.-Note by the Translator.

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"Alcamo boasts of having produced famous men; and, among others, Ciullo del Camo, who is generally called Vincentio di Alcamo. He was the contemporary of Frederick the Second, and is supposed by some to be the first who wrote poetry in the Italian language; at least, he was one of the first Italian poets. As it was Sunday, we were not surprised to see a great part of the inhabitants tumultuously crowding the streets, for this is a custom through all Italy. They begin on the Saturday evening, after the labour of the week is over, to collect in the market-places and streets. He who should be unacquainted with their manners, would imagine that some extraordinary event or insurrection had caused them to assemble ; for they usually speak all together, with loud voices, rapid articulation, and animated gestures. In the midst of their violent contentions, you every moment expect they will seize each other by the throat, and are agreeably surprised to hear them end in a loud laugh.

"Thus it was at Alcamo, where the streets seemed to be in an uproar till after midnight, when singing and music began; yet, as early as three in the morning, the people were going about, crying aloud the bread and meat, which they sold to the workmen that were preparing for their labour in the fields. The Sicilians, like the Italians, need but little sleep, and willingly part with that little for any diversion; hence the custom of serenading ever has and ever will prevail. Horace, in the ninth ode of his first book, speaks of the serenades of his days. He has been, hitherto, misinterpreted by some commentators; and, although the manners of the south of Italy and of Sicily might have pointed out what the poet intended to describe, yet I should probably still have misunderstood him, if a lucky accident had not informed me of the true meaning of the

verse.

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A volume of the Gazette Litteraire de l'Europe fell into my hands at Naples, a journal which gave extracts from the commentator, Abbate Galiani, a writer who died some years ago at Naples, a man of understanding, and famous for his numerous works. I do not believe that the whole of his commentary has yet been made public.

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