equally well arranged, through which he meant, by means of his chemical secrets, to terrify the people into appointing him as the king's successor. Weak, however, are the designs of mortals, if Omnipotence frown upon their projects: the schemes of Merops were laid with almost supernatural sagacity;-every difficulty was foreseen, and every objection anticipated; yet it was all in vain ; and the consummate skill shewn by the crafty plotter, only hastened his own destruction. Unconscious of the strength of the ingredients he had employed, he had buried so much of the fatal powder that one single spark was sufficient to involve the whole city in ruin. Of this he was not aware; and fancying that the pavilion in which the sacrifice was to be offered up would alone suffer, he calmly awaited the event in the adjoining palace. With fiend-like barbarity, however, he determined that the innocent Monica should not survive her father; and for this purpose he informed her of the king's intentions the very instant before they were to be put into execution. Monica was struck with horror at the intimation; and, as the crafty magician had anticipated, she resolved to interfere to prevent the consummation of so great a sin. She accordingly, at the very moment when the king was about to light the unhallowed pile, rushed into the pavilion, and threw herself at his feet. She could not speak,—but her panting breast and dishevelled hair bespoke her agitation, and her imploring eyes pierced her father's heart. "My Monica," said he, "this is no place for you. Return, my child,-I will join you soon." "Never!" exclaimed Monica, firmly, "never will I leave this place, unless you accompany me.” "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 the censer when the king cast it from him; the fatal 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. 1. ADIEU!-the chain is shivered now, That linked my heart and hopes with thine, II. Adieu! enjoy thy pleasant hours, Gather May-garlands, while 'tis May! Oh! till thy dreary day draws in, III. Adieu! thy beauty is the bow To love thee, when its light is fled, 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! Away! I fling thee from my heart, Back to the selfish and the bad, With whom thou hast thy fitter part! |