THE TEMPLE OF JUPITER OLYMPIUS, AT ATHENS. AFTER A PICTURE BY WILLIAMS, IN HIS "VIEWS IN GREECE." THOU art not silent!-oracles are thine Have gleamed, like lightnings through the gloom above, Stands, roofless to the sky, thy home, Olympian Jove! Thy columned aisles with whispers of the past Are vocal, and, along thine ivied walls, While Elian echoes murmur on the blast, And wild-flowers hang, like victor-coronals, In vain the turbaned tyrant rears his halls, And plants the symbol of his faith and slaughters; Now, even now, the beam of promise falls Bright upon Hellas, as her own bright daughters, And a Greek Ararat is rising o'er the waters! Thou art not silent!--when the southern fair- Soft as young beauty soothing age to rest,— And, round thine altar's mouldering stones are born From him who waked Aurora, every morn, And a new Iphitus has waked, beneath its string! SAINT CECILIA. AFTER A PICTURE BY MIGNARD, IN THE GALLERY OF THE LOUVRE. 3 HER hair streams backward,-like a cloud Before the sun-light of her eyes, That seem to pierce the fleecy shroud Of the far, blue Italian skies! Her hands amid the golden strings Still making music as they stray, That make the chamber hallowed ground; Till every breeze that wanders by Seems holy with the maiden's sigh, Her robe is of the same pure white But all the woman dims her eye With tears that dare to look to heaven, And griefs that mount-and are forgiven! Deep in her warm and holy heart, Are thoughts that play a mortal part, And her young worship wafts above The breathings of an earthly love! Of earth,-yet not a love that flings |