My Monica," said he, "this is no place for you. Return, my child,—I will join you soon." "Never!" exclaimed Monica, firmly, leave this place, unless you accompany me." 66 never will I This is childish, Monica. I have but some rites to perform, in which I would not have you participate; when they are concluded, I will join you." "And what rites must those be, which a parent refuses to participate with his child? At my entreaty you renounced the errors of Paganism-but this is worse. Oh, father!-dearest father! reflect, ere it be too late." The king paused, he looked fondly at his daughter.— "It is but for thy sake," said he, "that I wish to acquire riches." "Then, wish no longer," cried Monica, her eyes sparkling with animation, "risk not thy precious soul for my sake. I want not gold. Hear me, as I swear-solemnly swear! to live henceforward as the anchorite of the desart. Never will I again touch gold—never again shall costly viands pollute my lips,-my food shall be simply the fruits of the earth, and my drink, water from the spring!" "My child! my child! what have you said?" "What I mean steadily to perform," returned Monica, a bright smile passing over her countenance as she spoke ; "let me save my father from everlasting destruction, and the luxuries of life fade as nothing in the scale!" The king looked at her with emotion; to his heated imagination it seemed no longer his daughter, but his guardian angel that stood before him his better feelings prevailed―he threw down the censer, and clasping her in his arms, whispered softly-" thou hast conquered!" That instant a peal, like thunder broke upon their ears, a hollow rumbling noise succeeded, and the ground heaved like the billows of the sea. Fire had fallen from from him; the fatal the censer when the king cast it powder ignited, and as the mine exploded, the rocks were torn asunder with a convulsion which seemed the last throe of expiring nature. Palaces and towers tottered to their fall; the lofty dome of the cathedral rocked like a pine branch tossing in a storm; earth yawned for her prey, and the fair city sank into her bosom. Mountains closed over it, and the very name of Akteleg is now almost forgotten. No mortal being escaped alive the horrors of that fatal night; but the moonlight softness of the pale amber pillar, seems emblematic of the lovely Monica; and as its sweet though mournful notes melt upon the ear, to a fanciful mind the tender music seems still to sigh over the fallen fortunes of her country. AN ADIEU. BY T. K. HERVEY, ESQ. I. ADIEU!-the chain is shivered now, That linked my heart and hopes with thine, Thy dreams will, often, be of mine; Gather May-garlands, while 'tis May! Oh! till the dreary day draws in, III. Adieu! thy beauty is the bow To shield thee when the storm comes on! Adieu ! IV. Adieu! oh! wild and worthless all The heart that wakes this last farewell! Why for a thing like thee should fall My harpings like a passing-bell! Why should my soul and song be sad! Back to the selfish and the bad, With whom thou hast thy fitter part! V. Adieu! and may thy dreams of me And memory mar thy prayer for rest!- WHAT IS LIFE? BY S. T. COLERIDGE, ESQ. RESEMBLES life what once was held of light, An absolute self? an element ungrounded? Is very life by consciousness unbounded? And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath A war-embrace of wrestling life and death? |