ated Essence-Ancient of days-glory be to thy power, love to thy compassion!"

Thus sung the son of Lasthenes. This hymn of Sion resounded afar off among the caverns of Arcadia, surprised at echoing back, instead of the effeminate tones of the flute of Pan, the manly accents of the harp of David. Demodocus and his daughter were too much astonished to exhibit the marks of their emotion. The glowing pictures of scripture had, as it were, dazzled their senses accustomed to receive but one light, and that mixed with darkness. They knew not what divinities Eudorus had been celebrating: but him they took for Apollo, and would have consecrated to him a golden tripod not yet sullied by the flame. Cymodocea dwelt particularly upon the eulogium of the sage matron, and determined to essay the same chant upon her lyre. The Christian family, on the other hand, was absorbed in the most serious meditations; that which to the strangers was but sublime poetry, was to them profound mysteries and eternal truths. The silence of the assembly would have continued for a long time, had it not suddenly been interrupted by the plaudits of the rustics. The voices of Cymodocea and Eudorus had floated to them upon the breeze they had descended in crowds from the hills to listen to these concerts; they fancied that the Muses and the Sirens had renewed, upon the borders of the Alpheus, the contest in which they had once been engaged, when the daughters

of Achelous, vanquished by the skilful sisters, were obliged to lay aside their wings.

course.

Night had already passed the middle of her The bishop of Lacedæmon proposes to retire. Like the husbandman, fatigued by the labours of the day, he thrice calls upon the name of the Lord, and adores. The Christians, having given each other the kiss of peace, return to their dwelling in holy composure.

Demodocus was conducted to the place which had been prepared for him, not far from the apartment of Cymodocea. Cyrillus, after having meditated upon the word of life, threw himself upon a bed of reeds. But scarcely had he closed his eyes, when his mind was disturbed by a vision ; the wounds of his former persecution seemed again unclosed, and he perceived, with ineffable delight, his blood again flowing for Jesus Christ. At the same time he beheld a young man and a youthful female, resplendent in light, ascending from the earth towards the heavens: with a palmbranch, which they held in their hands, they made a sign for him to follow; but he could not distinguish their features, as their heads were veiled. He awoke in holy agitation: he believed that he discovered in this mysterious dream some warning to the Christians. He engaged in prayer with abundance of tears, and often was he heard to cry in the silent hour of the night;

"O my God, if victims are still wanting, accept of me for the safety of thy people!"

THE ARGUMENT.

The prayer of Cyrillus ascends to the throne of the All-Pow erful. Heaven. Angels. Saints. Tabernacle of the Mother of the Saviour. Sanctuaries of the Son and of the Father. The Holy Spirit. The prayer of Cyrillus rises before the Eternal: the Eternal accepts it, but declares that the bishop of Lacedæmon is not the victim appointed to redeem the Christians. Words of the Son. of the Father. Eudorus is the chosen victim. this choice. The Son completes the revelation of the designs of the Father. Cymodocea is the second sacrifice demanded by Heaven. The celestial warriors assume their arms. Song of the Saints and Angels.

Discourse Motives of

BOOK III.

THE last words of Cyrillus ascended to the throne of the Eternal. The All-Powerful approved the sacrifice; but the bishop of Lacedæmon was not the victim which God, in his anger and compassion, had chosen to redeem the Christians.

In the centre of created worlds-in the midst of innumerable stars which serve as ramparts, as avenues, and as roads-floats that immense city of God, whose wonders no mortal tongue can describe. The Eternal himself laid its twelve foundations, and surrounded it with that wall of jasper, which the well-beloved disciple saw measured by the Angel with a rod of gold. Clothed with the glory of the Most High, the invisible Jerusalem is adorned like a bride for her spouse. Far hence ye monuments of earth; ye are unworthy to be compared with those of the holy city! There, the richness of the materials disputes the palm with the perfection of the structure. There reign hanging galleries of sapphire and of diamonds, feebly imitated by the genius of man in the gar

dens of Babylon ;* there rise triumphal arches

The hanging gardens were constructed upon the same grand scale that was displayed throughout the whole city of Babylon. The following is the account given of them by Rollin.

The new palace, which stood on the west side of the river, was sixty furlongs, or seven and an half miles in compass. In this palace, were the hanging gardens, so celebrated among the Greeks. They contained a square of four plethra, that is, four hundred feet on every side, and were carried up aloft into the air, in the manner of several large terraces, one above another, till the height equalled that of the walls of city. (This was 350 feet.) The ascent was from terrace to terrace, by stairs ten feet wide. The whole pile was sus tained by vast arches, raised upon other arches, one above another, and strengthened by a wall surrounding it on every side, of twenty-two feet thickness. On the top of the arches were first laid large flat stones, sixteen feet long and four broad: over these was a layer of reed, mixed with a great quantity of bitumen, upon which were two rows of bricks, closely cemented together with plaster. The whole was covered with thick sheets of lead, upon which lay the mould of the garden. And all this floorage was contrived to keep the moisture of the mould from running away through the arches. The mould, or earth, laid hereon, was so deep that the greatest trees might take root in it; and with such the terraces were covered, as well as with all other plants and flowers that were proper for a garden of pleasure. In the upper terrace there was an engine, or kind of pump, by which water was drawn up out of the river, and from thence the whole garden was watered. In the spaces between the several arches, upon which this whole structure rested, were large and magnificent apartments, that were very light, and had the advantage of a beautiful prospect.

Rollin's Anc. Hist. v. 2, p. 20.