Spirit false thou hast forgot

All but those who need thee not.

As a lizard with the shade
Of a trembling leaf,

Thou with sorrow art dismayed;
Even the sighs of grief

Reproach thee that thou art not near,
And reproach thou wilt not hear.

Let me set my mournful ditty
To a merry measure—

Thou wilt never come for pity,

Thou wilt come for pleasure;

Pity then will cut away

Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.

I love all that thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight—

The fresh earth in new leaves dressed,
And the starry night,

Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born.

I love snow, and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;

I love waves, and winds, and storms-
Everything almost

Which is Nature's, and may be

Untainted by man's misery.

I love tranquil solitude,

And such society

As is quiet, wise, and good.
Between thee and me

What difference? But thou dost posses
The things I seek, not love them less.

I love Light, though he has wings,
And like light can flee;

But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee—

Thou art love and life! Oh come,

Make once more my heart thy home!

SHELLEY.

8. DEATH OF PLINY THE ELDER.

(A.D. 79.)

Your request that I would send you an account of my uncle's death, in order to transmit a more exact relation of it to posterity, deserves my acknowledgments; for if this accident shall be celebrated by your pen, the glory of it, I am well assured, will be rendered for ever illustrious. It is with extreme willingness, therefore, I execute your commands.

He was at that time with the fleet under his command at Misenum. On the 23rd of August, about one in the afternoon, my mother desired him to observe a cloud which appeared of a very unusual size and shape. He had just returned from taking the benefit of the sun, and after bathing himself in cold water and taking a slight repast, was retired to his study. He immediately rose, and went out upon an eminence from whence he might more distinctly view this very uncommon appearance.

It was not at that distance discernible from what mountain this cloud issued, but it was found afterwards to ascend from Mount Vesuvius. I cannot give a more exact description of its figure than by resembling it to a pine tree, for it shot up to a great height in the form of a trunk, which extended itself at the top into a sort of branches. It appeared sometimes bright and sometimes dark and spotted, as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders.

This extraordinary phenomenon excited my uncle to take a nearer view of it. He ordered a light

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3

vessel to be got ready, and gave me liberty, i thought proper, to attend him. I chose rather continue my studies, for, as it happened, he had gi me some employment of that kind.

As he was coming out of the house he recei a note from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who v in the utmost alarm at the imminent danger wh threatened her; for her villa being situated at foot of Mount Vesuvius, there was no way to esca but by sea. She earnestly entreated him, therefo

to come to her assistance.

He accordingly changed his first design. ordered the galleys to put to sea, and went hims on board with an intention of assisting not or Rectina, but several others; for the villas stand tremely thick upon that beautiful coast. Wh hastening to the place whence others fled with t utmost terror, he steered his direct course to t point of danger, and with so much calmness a presence of mind as to be able to make and dicta his observations upon the dreadful scene.

He was now so nigh the mountain that the cinde which grew thicker and hotter the nearer he a proached, fell into the ships, together with pumi stones and pieces of burning rock. His ships we likewise in danger, not only of being aground the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the va fragments which rolled down from the mountain a obstructed all the shore.

Here he stopped to consider whether he shou turn back again. Upon the pilot advising him to

her to

given

ceived

Owas

which

the

Scape

fore,

self

P

so, "Fortune," said he, “befriends the brave; carry
me to Pomponianus."

Pomponianus was then at

Stabiæ.
He had already sent his baggage on
board a ship; for though he was not at that time
in actual danger, yet being within the view of it,
and indeed extremely near, he was determined, if it
should in the least increase, to put to sea as soon as
the wind should change.

The wind was favourable, however, for carrying
my uncle to Pomponianus, whom he found in the
greatest consternation. He embraced him with tender-
ness, encouraging and exhorting him to keep up his
spirits, and, the more to dissipate his fears, he ordered,
with an air of unconcern, the baths to be got ready;
when, after having bathed, he sat down to supper
with great cheerfulness, or at least (what is equally
heroic) with all the appearance of it.

But my

In the meanwhile the eruption from Mount Vesuvius flamed out in several places with much violence, which the darkness of the night contributed to render still more visible and dreadful. uncle, in order to soothe the apprehensions of his friend, assured him it was only the burning of the villages, which the country people had abandoned to the flames; after this he retired to rest, and it is most certain he was so little discomposed as to fall into a deep sleep. The court which led to his apartment being now almost filled with stones and ashes, if he had continued there any time longer it would have been impossible for him to have made his way out; it was thought proper, therefore, to awaken him.

vessel to be got ready, and gave me liberty, if I thought proper, to attend him. I chose rather to continue my studies, for, as it happened, he had given me some employment of that kind.

As he was coming out of the house he received a note from Rectina, the wife of Bassus, who was in the utmost alarm at the imminent danger which threatened her; for her villa being situated at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there was no way to escape but by sea. She earnestly entreated him, therefore,

to come to her assistance.

He

He accordingly changed his first design. ordered the galleys to put to sea, and went himself on board with an intention of assisting not only Rectina, but several others; for the villas stand extremely thick upon that beautiful coast. When hastening to the place whence others fled with the utmost terror, he steered his direct course to the point of danger, and with so much calmness and presence of mind as to be able to make and dictate his observations upon the dreadful scene.

He was now so nigh the mountain that the cinders, which grew thicker and hotter the nearer he approached, fell into the ships, together with pumicestones and pieces of burning rock. His ships were likewise in danger, not only of being aground by the sudden retreat of the sea, but also from the vast fragments which rolled down from the mountain and obstructed all the shore.

Here he stopped to consider whether he should turn back again. Upon the pilot advising him to do