THE FOUNTAIN.

[See Plate.]

IT was a well

Of whitest marble, white as from the quarry;
And richly wrought with many a high relief,
Greek sculpture-in some earlier day perhaps
A tomb, and honored with a hero's ashes.
The water from the rock filled, overflowed it;
Then dashed away, playing the prodigal,
And soon was lost-stealing unseen, unheard,
Through the long grass, and round the twisted roots
Of aged trees; discovering where it ran

By the fresh verdure. Overcome with heat

I threw me down; admiring, as I lay,
That shady nook, a singing place for birds,
That grove so intricate, so full of flowers,
More than enough to please a child a-Maying.

The sun was down, a distant convent bell
Ringing the Angelus; and now approached
The hour for stir and village gossip there →
The hour Rebekah came, when from the well
She drew with such alacrity to serve
The stranger and his camels. Soon I heard
Footsteps; and lo, descending by a path
Trodden for ages, many a nymph appeared,
Appeared and vanished, bearing on her head
Her earthen pitcher. It called up the day
Ulysses landed there; and I long gazed
Like one awaking in a distant time.

11

ROGERS.

For the Casket.

THE SCULPTOR.

BY ALICE LINWOOD.

WHY dost thou look sternly on thy votaries, O beautiful art? See, thou hast permitted the few who have knelt at thy shrine to writhe under the lash of worldly scorn; thou hast suffered them to pine for lack of bread and to thirst for the cooling draught, quaffed even by the wandering mendicant. Is it because thou dost despise the body of thy worshipper with all its companionships, and regardest alone his soul with its glorious aspirations? Seekest thou to sever his heart from earth, that his fancy may be more free to soar near the dream-land where thou reposest? Or art thou jealous that one thought should stray from thine own matchless symmetry?

Now he stood on a hill overlooking the proud city of the Tiber; cool air from the sea lifted the locks from his brow and fanned his feverish cheek, while his eye was fixed on the pageant glittering beneath a sun-set of Italy. Gondoliers, with their silken sails, danced along the river; ships with crowded canvass ploughed the bosom of the distant sea; and the last beams of day lingered, wavering around the spires, and domes, . and towers of the imperial city, as if loath to leave so fair a scene. The dilation of his dark eye showed that the lovely view was not in unison with the thoughts stirring in his bosom. Vesper bells pealed out on the air, and the Ave Maria of a distant multitude softly vibrated on the hill-top; still the music found no response in his heart, and still he gazed forward unconscious of aught before him. Then a cloud rose from the gaudy chambers of the west, and slowly marched towards the zenith. It was like a curtain of darkest dye whereon played the lightnings-now they darted through the cloud as if rending it into a thousand atoms now a castle, with its turrets and battlements and its armed retinue, gleamed for a moment on the gloomy canvass, then quickly disappeared with a crash which shook the very heavens. Lurid flames shot down to the

earth in a hundred lines, and as his eye followed their course, he saw them clasp the trees in their fiery embrace and wither the trembling leaves with their breath. He beheld them playing around the tall masts, and as they lighted the darkness, crested billows rose on his sight- the whirlwind tore up young trees and hurled them far out on the wave; but Riano sought not the habitations of man. A look of bitterness passed over his countenance, and stretching his arms toward the skies, he exclaimed, "And thou, O Nature, wilt thou also look coldly on thine adorer, denying to him the only smile which pierces the darkness of his way? Then grant me to die, for none can tell how cheerless is my life." He flung himself upon the ground, and the confusion of the elements corresponded well with the tempest of inward passion.

The storms of the sunny South, like anger on beauty's lip, are quickly passed; so when Riano raised his weary form, the moon was bright in the sky. A fleecy vapor hovered in the air and Riano's brow relaxed, for as he gazed on its loveliness, a head of angelic beauty reclined on the ærial pillow-no passion had stained the calm face beaming upon him from the heavens, and clasping his hands he knelt in rapture, "Look graciously on thy son but once, O glorious Art, and he will adore. thee forever." Bending her fair head, the vision fixed her glance on the glowing face of her devotee the moonbeams, that played so caressingly among the masses of her hair, sparkled with redoubled brilliancy and a fragrant dew moistened the brow of the lone worshipper; but it was only the smile wreathing her lips which stilled the throbbings of Riano's wild heart. Then she lifted her pearly finger towards the zenith and a harmonious voice fell on his ear, "Higher, ever higher, see mortal, my throne is far away." Her chariot floated upward till his eye could no longer discern its dazzling outline.

But light had dawned within his soul- unheeded was the throng pressing along the streets through which he retraced his way, and his eye flashed with triumph while his eager step crossed the threshold of his chamber. Moonlight streaming through the narrow casement, fell upon a rude block of marble and revealed the sculptor's tools lying at its base. Riano's eye

discerned a form enclosed within the rocky mass, and he eagerly applied himself to release the prisoner from her gloomy cell. Hour after hour he sped in his task-silence gained dominion over the world below, and still the sculptor's rapid strokes resounded through the lonely ruin. Day dawned, yet he wearied not; sunbeams crept reluctantly down a narrow street and drew near a broken casement, but as they beheld the artist at his labor, they brightened into splendor and sparkled upon the pure marble so dazzlingly that Riano started in amazement. When a morning cloud intercepted the rays, and the bewildered artist, forgetful of the rising sun, exclaimed, "See, the goddess hath already sent a halo of glory to play around her head;" a smile passed over his flushed cheek and beamed from his flashing eye, and again the strokes fell fast.

Sad was the revelation of day-light in the sculptor's apartment. A pallet of straw, a bench, a broken table- these constituted his wealth. Over a soul sensitive as the air-harp, tempests of earth had beaten till its strings were well nigh shattered, and the few sounds it uttered were notes of wailing. Ah! the lot of genius hath ever been bitter! In a corner of the room leaned a skeleton, and the wind from the broken casement jarred the bones till they creaked on the wires, as if the hideous wreck was calling its former companions from earth and sky. On the walls were sketched every variety of face, which nature has moulded in her wildest or sweetest moods: unsightly features grinned at the artist intent at his work intellect fixed her calm eyes on his radiant countenance beauty smiled at his zeal pride curled a haughty lip, and calculation gazed sarcastically on the worshipper of the beautiful-but he noted them not; genius had gained a momentary ascendancy over her baser associate and compelled obedience to her wishes.

Physical nature brooks not long control, and as week succeeded week, Riano changed. True, the fire of his eye was not dimmed-it even burned with greater intensity; but his cheek paled and his form became attenuated. At length the statue was complete matchless was its beauty. Not the most practised eye could have detected a fault in the loveliness of the

almost breathing form. Haggard and emaciated sat the artist on a marble fragment, gazing into the face he had formed. It was easy to see the idolatry of his heart-how all the affection of his soul was fixed on the bright being of his creation. Sorrow was in that gaze, for his last morsel of food had long been spent, and now he must die or part with his idol. Strange that the heart can be so bound to beings it hath found in the realms of fancy and sought to transplant to earth—yet it hath often been, and many a one who has vainly sought companionship among men, has showered a wild affection on the brilliant creation of his imagination. Perchance, thou who readest hast cherished a celestial vision in thy bosom, hast summoned fond eyes to weep for thy sadness, and heard a sigh from the gentle spirit when thou hast erred, then smile not at the artist's love.

Again and again had Riano resolved to yield his life a sacrifice to the master passion of his breast; but the cravings of hunger would not be denied; therefore he sat to gaze for the last time on the worshipped one. A solitary tear fell upon his cheek he brushed it away, and thus his soul found utterance: "Can we part life has been less drear since I looked on thy sweet face? My soul has mingled with thine as sister waves unite and flow on together? Thou hast elevated me to thy sphere, till I was unconscious of this low existence- and must we part? O, why should the soul, whose lofty thoughts can soar from star to star, and track the flight of time till it is far, far away in the duration of eternity, be bound, slave, to a mass only fit for food to the loathsome worm? Why should the lamp kindled at the throne of Divinity be compelled to wander like an ignus fatuus over the sickening marshes of life? Why should the heart, whose pulses beat only for some loved one, be imprisoned to give breath to that which it regards not? Why, with love only for the beautiful and pure, is immortal mind surrounded by the hideous and vile? I cannot solve the enigma

of life; I would that thou mightst reign in thy queenly beauty and I sit at thy feet, guarding the only form which looks not coldly on me. I dare not watch thee longer; I could not