my kindred; we ate abundantly, while famished men fought with the dogs for putrid offals. Then came disease; thousands died in a day, and thousands were each day newly smitten; but no man refused to tend the sick,—all were kind and compassionate, save me. When famine alone had visited us, I did not desert my kindred, because we had abundance; but now, I forsook all. My father was stricken, my mother-she who had so often watched over me,-my mother was stricken-sisters, brethren, all were stricken; but I visited them not, nor helped them. I garnered my own dwelling with provisions and costly wines, and secluded myself from all intercourse with the diseased; there I prayed a selfish prayer for life. I said, 'Let all die; but grant life to me.' Alas! my prayer-my guilty prayer -was heard. "Live,' said a voice, as my prayer expired on my lips; 'live, foolish Azib, be cursed with life,-life for a thousand years!' Death, that Life, that to "I understood not then, how life could be a curse. I exulted in the anticipation of length of years. to others is always near, to me was afar off. others was uncertain, was to me assured; life, for a thousand years. The period at which I was resolved to return to the world, had not yet arrived: but the promise of life was sufficient security, even although disease should still be raging: and I came forth from my solitude. As I passed through this garden (for yonder, where that one column still stands, was my dwelling), I marvelled at the great stillness that filled the air; but I guessed not the curse that was upon me: that the City was half depeopled, I believed; that my friends, that my kindred had perished, might be ; but not that all had perished! I entered the house of my kindred; I went into many chambers, but they were empty. I heard a noise in that which was my mother's; and as I approached the door, a hyæna came forth. Oh! what a spectacle was reserved for me! I passed quickly into the streets, they were silent and empty. I entered the houses, -in those that were shut, I found the dead; in those that were open, I found both the dead and the living; the dead of my own species, the living of another. Night came, and I again sought my dwelling. Now I prayed for death; but I heard the curse again pronounced, Live! be cursed with life,-life for a thousand years!' I again walked out into the streets in search of death; but the hyæna and the wolf passed by, and avoided me. Now I knew that the rurse was upon me, and that mine was a charmed life; and I returned to this garden, and sat down upon the marble steps where we now rest. I knew that life must endure for a thousand years, and I picked up a thousand pebbles, and placed them in that marble basin, where now but one remains. "Yet, hope had not entirely left me. I sought in the remotest and most obscure dwellings, if perchance I might find some human being-some child,-whom disease, or at least death had not reached; but I found none; and when assured I had no living associate, I felt a strange consolation in the companionship of the dead. In their faces and forms, there were recollections of living men; and I sat by them for hours and days, and disputed the possession of them with the wild beasts: but, one by one, they snatched them from me; and the traces of the living passed away, till nothing remained to remind me of my race. Next, the brute creation disappeared: during fifty years, birds and beasts sometimes visited the City; but at length they came no more. The last creature I have seen, was a pelican, that more than nine hundred years ago, sat one morning, on the sun-dial before the great temple. "Dreadful has been the curse of life, and more dreadful has it been every day. I would have made a companion of the hyæna; I would have associated with any thing that had life. While watching the winged race, called into existence by the sunbeams, have felt less wretched; for, like me, they were endued with life: but many centuries have passed away since this small sympathy has been mine. A curse is upon earth and air, as well as upon me; even the insects that used to float in this basin, and with whose imperfect life I have felt some sympathy, have long been extinct. I would have given,-but what had I to give? yet had I possessed one blessing, I would have resigned it, to have heard even the cry of a jackall, or the scream of a vulture! "When life in animated beings could no longer be found, I sought life or motion in inanimate things. I have sat on these steps, and listened for centuries to the gushing of that fountain; but it has long ceased to afford this consolation, for see, the water comes drop by drop. I have watched the flowers that grew, watered by its spray, and the weeds that sprung up among the ruins, but they are all withered; and the country around is a desert: these date trees, that afford me sustenance, alone survive. All this is the curse of selfishness, the punishment of longing after length of years. I might have given my sympathy, and died with my kindred; but I refused it, and lo! I have received none for a thousand years. A thousand years have I wandered, the sole tenant of these silent streets: I have seen the tooth of time gnaw the records of perishing men; its triumphs are the sole disturbers of the silence that reigns around, as columns fall to the earth, or dwellings crumble into dust." The aged man paused for a moment. "It is now only midday," continued he; “Go, walk through the city, meditate on what thou hast heard, and return hither at sunset." X I went into the city! I entered the habitations that hac been tenantless a thousand years. I entered the dwelling of kings, and saw the vacant throne, and the enamelled floor, once swept by the purple of past ages. I stood among the ruins of temples, and stumbled over the mutilated idols that were mingling with the dust of those who had worshipped them; and I gazed on the sun-dial, that time had spared, to be his chronicler. At sunset, I returned to the garden: the aged man still sat on the marble steps, and seemed to be watching the far horizon I sat down beside him, and both were silent. The light of day was fast waning; the rosy hues of sunset died away; fainter grew the scene; at length a pale light on the horizon appeared, and grew, till the moon rose slowly up into the wide sky: soon, the date tree, and the pinnacle of the fountain were tipped with silver: the aged man then arose, and taking the last pebble from the basin, threw it on the ground. One drop of water hung trembling from the fountain; it fell, but none other came; and when I raised my eyes to the countenance of the old man, I saw that his race was ended. I quitted the garden to enter again upon my journey through the desert; and as I passed by the sun-dial, I saw that time had no longer a record in the City of the Desert: the pedestal which had supported it, had fallen! IGNORANCE IS BLISS. BY BARRY CORNWALL. RAINS fall; suns shine; winds flee; Brooks run; yet few know how. Do not thou too deeply search Why thou lov'st me now! Perhaps, by some command Sent earthward from above, Thy heart was doomed to lean on mine- Why ask, when joy doth smile, From what bright heaven it fell? BERTHA CLERVILLE. A Domestic Story. "BUT, my father!-Edward, I cannot leave my poor father, not even to perfect your happiness! No! I cannot leave my father." There was a pause after those words had been delivered in a sweetly agitated voice, and a faint sound, as of some one endeavouring to check the rising sobs of bitter emotion; after which another voice said :— "It will be but the first burst of passion-the first short interval of sullenness and gloom, and you will be forgiven. Think, dear Bertha, think upon the long and happy years which we will share together; think upon the fervour of my love, nay, adoration, and say if one bold step shall be wanting to consummate our long desired union." "I have thought, Edward, till thought is drowned by sorrow: I cannot-I dare not think of it longer." As these words were spoken, two figures were seen to x 2 |