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Expression's last receding ray,
Clime of the unforgotten brave !1
Say, is not this Thermopylæ ??
Oh! servile offspring of the free,
Thy heroes, though the general doom
Lord Byron. “ There is, perhaps,” says Mr. 1. Clime of the unforgotten Payne, “no instance in our poetical brave. --The transition, in these literature in which a continued lines, from deep pathos to daring simile, or comparison, is so beau- energy is very striking. tifully sustained as that which runs through these lines.” The form is 2. Thermopylæ, Salamis.--The so lovely, but the life has gone ! No mere names would be enough to a country had so brilliant a history as Greek, without any description. that of Greece in olden times : none They would recall the most splendid has so fallen from its high estate. events in their eventful history. At When the Turks took Constantinople Thermopylæ, a vast Persian army in 1453, Greece fell under their power, was held at bay in a narrow defile by and had to endure their cruel des- 300 Spartans under Leonidas. The potism until 1821, when she rebelled, Persians having been told of a secret and at last, with the help of England, path, surrounded the heroic band, France, and Russia, she obtained and slew all but one man, 480 B.C. her independence. Lord Byron, like At Salamis the Persian fleet were many other Englishmen, was very put to flight by the Athenians under earnest in their cause. He devoted Themistocles, also in 480 B.C. the last years of his life to their cause, and died there in 1824.
THE NATIONAL GALLERY.1 1. Picture galleries should be the working-man's paradise, a garden of pleasure, to which he goes to refresh his eyes and heart with beautiful shapes and sweet colouring, when they are wearied with dull bricks and mortar, and the ugly colourless things which fill the town, the workshop, and the
factory. For, believe me, there is many a road into our hearts besides our ears and brains; many a sight, and sound, and scent even, of which we have never thought at all, sinks into our memory, and helps to shape our characters.
2. Thus children brought up among beautiful sights and sweet sounds will most likely show the fruits of their nursing, by thoughtfulness, and affection, and nobleness of mind, even by the expression of the countenance.
Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful. Beauty is God's handwriting—a wayside sacrament; welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower, and thank for it Him, the fountain of all loveliness, and drink it in, simply and earnestly, with all your eyes; it is a charmed draught, a cup of blessing.
3. Therefore I said that picture galleries should be the townsman's paradise of refreshment. Of course if he can get the real air, the real trees, even for an hour, let him take it. But how many a man who cannot spare time for a daily country walk, may well slip into the National Gallery, or any other collection of pictures, for ten minutes! That garden, at least, flowers as gaily in winter as in
Those noble faces on the wall are never disfigured by grief or passion.
4. There, in the space of a single room, the townsman may take his country walka walk beneath mountain peaks, blushing sunsets, with broad woodlands spreading out below it; a walk through green meadows, under cool mellow shades, and overhanging rocks, by rushing brooks, where he watches and
watches till he seems to hear the foam whisper, and to see the fishes leap.
5. And his hard-worn heart wanders out free, beyond the grim city-world of stone and iron, smoky chimneys, and roaring wheels, into the world of beautiful things—the world which shall be hereafter—ay, which shall be! .. Those landscapes, too, painted by loving, wise old Claude,” two hundred years ago, are still as fresh as ever. How still the meadows are! how pure and free that vault of deep blue sky!
6. It is delightful to watch in a picture-gallery some street-boy enjoying himself; how first wonder creeps over his rough face, and then a sweeter, more earnest, awe-struck look, till his countenance seems to grow handsomer and nobler on the spot, and drink in and reflect unknowingly the beauty of the picture he is studying.
7. See how some labourer's face will light up before the painting which tells him a noble story of bye-gone days. And why? Because he feels as if he himself had share in the story at which he looks. They may be noble and glorious men who are painted there; but they are still men of like passions with himself, and his man's heart understands them and glories in them; and he begins, and rightly, to respect himself the more when he finds that he, too, has a fellow-feeling with noble men and noble deeds.
Charles Kingsley (by special permission). 1. National Gallery.--A public landscape painter, born 1600, lived collection of pictures purchased by chiefly in Rome, where he died, 1678. the nation, and for the nation, to be Several of his paintings are in the seen in Trafalgar Square, London. National Gallery.
-A very celebrated
POMPEII. 1. We have just returned from Pompeii. It lies on the southern side of the bay, about twelve miles from Naples, just below the volcano which overwhelmed it. The road lay along the shore, and is lined with villages. The first reached is Portico, where the king has a summer palace, through the court of which the road passes.
2. This village is built over Herculaneum, and the danger of undermining it has stopped the excavations of probably the richest city buried by Vesuvius. We stopped at a little gate in the midst of the village, and, taking a guide and two torches, descended to the only part of it now visible, by near a hundred steps.
3. We found ourselves at the back of an amphitheatre. We entered the narrow passage, and the guide pointed to several of the upper seats for the spectators, which had been partially dug out. They were lined with marble, as the whole amphitheatre appears to have been. To realise the effect of these ruins, it must be remembered that they are embedded in solid lava, like a rock nearly a hundred feet deep, and that a city which is itself ancient is built above them.
4. The carriage in which we came stood high above our heads, in a time-worn street, and ages had passed, and many generations of men had lived and died over a splendid city, whose very name had been forgotten. It was discovered in sinking a well, which struck the door of the amphitheatre.