THE SITE OF THE ANCIENT DAPHNE. In this wild and luxurious scene there is a resemblance to the site oi the ancient oracle of Delphi: the gardens of Armida were not more formidable to the crusaders under Godfrey of Bouillon, than the groves of Daphne were of old to the Roman veterans. Cassius, their general, forbade them to enter here, where the sights and sounds were more subduing than the enemy's sword. Daphne, so famous in the history of Syria, is about six miles from Antioch: you travel for some time along the foot of mountains through groves of myrtle and mulberry trees, till you arrive at this natural amphitheatre on the declivity of the mountains, where the springs burst with a loud noise from the earth, and, running in a variety of directions for about two hundred yards, terminate in two beautiful cascades, about thirty feet in height, falling into the valley of the Orontes. The largest of the fountains rises from beneath a rock, on the top and sides of which are the massy remnants of an ancient edifice, perhaps those of the temple of Apollo: the water of this spring is conveyed for nearly two miles through an artificial subterraneous aqueduct, which has been traced to the vicinity of Antioch. The real site of Daphne has been much disputed by travellers, among whom there is a great difference of opinion: neither Babyla?, Zoiba, or Beit-el-ma, fulfil the anticipations and images excited by the words of the ancients, who sometimes dipped their pens, when painting scenes of natural beauty, in the colours of the rainbow; or from their less correct taste and genuine love for the picturesque, when compared with that of the moderns, their descriptions may not always be depended upon, even of the scenes they saw. They loved the soft, rather than the magnificent; and things delicious to the senses, rather than the splendid scenes and ruder excitements of alpine regions. The charms of Daphne were derived as well from religious and voluptuous associations, so artfully blended in the old mythology, as from the unrivalled features of nature. Here Seleucus planted a thick grove of laurel and cypress trees, reaching ten miles in circumference, and forming a cool and impenetrable shade, even in the most sultry summers. In the middle of the wood he erected a magnificent temple, which was consecrated to Apollo and Diana. Daphne was the same with respect to Antioch, as Baire was to Rome, and Canopus to Alexandria—a place of resort for amusement and pleasure. The senses were gratified with harmonious sounds and aromatic odours; beautiful were the walks, and shades, and grottoes, beautiful the Syrian women who resorted or dwelt here: at last, all who had any fortitude or virtue avoided the place: the soldier and the philosopher shunned its temptations. "The joyful birds sang sweet in the green bowers; Flowers and choice odours richly smiled and smelled On either side of the calm stream, which wound In a so spacious circle, that it held The whole vast forest in its charming round. It seemed that the hard oak, the grieving yew, The chaste sad laurel, and the whole green grove, It seemed each fruit that blushed, each bud that blew, All spoke of ladies' hope, of ladies' love, And bade the pilgrim hail to this delightful grove." WirrEw. Nevertheless, the groves of Daphne" continued for many ages to attract the veneration, and to be the resort, of natives and strangers: the privileges of the sacred ground were enlarged by the munificence of succeeding emperors; and every generation added new ornaments to the splendour of the temple. At last the Christians of Antioch built a magnificent church here to Babylas bishop of that city, who died in the persecution of Decius: the rites thenceforth began to be neglected, and the priests of Apollo to forsake the place. Julian the Apostate endeavoured to revive the love of paganism amidst the groves of Daphne": he visited the neglected altars, and resumed the sacrifices, and saw with mortification and anguish that their reign was over, their sun was going down, and that the mysterious voice had gone forth in Daphne, as in the temples of Greece, "Let us go hence." One night the temple was discovered to be in flames; the statue of Apollo was consumed to ashes, as also were the altars: Julian said that the malice of the Christians had caused the conflagration; the Christians said, it was the vengeance of God. Two beautiful cascades, and a few groupes of trees and bushes, and a screen of bold crags behind, cannot, however, realise the associations of memory, which are here miserably shattered; and the pictures of the past flit away like the foam of the waterfalls. Is this all that remains of Daphne ?—Let the traveller recline on the bank, whose flowers grow rank beneath the spray; and, lulled with the falling waters, or with a gentle dose of opium, strive to conjure up on the steep the magnificent temple of Apollo; its flights of columns casting their long shadows on the stream, the smoke of its sacrifices and clouds of perfume rising slowly over the groves, while over the cataracts slowly floated the music of many instruments, and the voices of invisible women. He wakes—and what does he behold? Three water-mills built of mud, some myrtle and bramble bushes, and a few mountain girls drawing water from the stream, their coarse garments hiding coarser forms—the Dulcineas of the place; which, had Cervantes seen, he would surely have placed his hero on the steep, and given him visions, and made him harangue over Daphne" and her glory, while Sancho stood laughing loudly by his side. "All, sister! Desolation is a delicate thing; |