NIGHT IN SWITZERLAND. IT. T is late, and the crowd is gone. You step out upon the balcony, and lie in the very bosom of the cool, dewy night, as if you folded her garments about you. Beneath lies the public walk with trees, -like a fathomless, black gulf, into whose silent darkness the spirit plunges and floats away, with some beloved spirit clasped in its embrace. The lamps are still burning up and down the long street. People go by, with grotesque shadows, now foreshortened, and now lengthening away into the darkness and vanishing, while a new one springs up behind the walker, and seems to pass him, revolving like the sail of a windmill. The iron gates of the park shut with a jangling clang. There are footsteps and loud voices;-a tumult,a drunken brawl,-an alarm of fire ;-then silence again. And now at length the city is asleep, and we can see the night. The belated moon looks over the roofs, and finds no one to welcome her. The moonlight is broken. It lies here and there in the squares, and the opening of streets,angular, like blocks of white marble. Under such a green, triumphal arch, O reader, with the odor of flowers about thee, and the song of birds, shalt thou pass onward into the enchanted land, as through the Ivory Gate of dreams! And as a prelude and majestic march, one sweet human voice, coming from the bosom of the Alps, sings this sublime ode, which the Alpine echoes repeat afar : COME, golden evening in the west Enthrone the storm-dispelling sun, And let the triple rainbow rest O'er all the mountain-tops. "T is done;The tempest ceases; bold and bright, The rainbow shoots from hill to hill; Down sinks the sun; on presses night;Mount Blanc is lovely still! There take thy stand, my spirit; spread The stars, like saints in glory, meet. Methinks I muse on Nature's tomb, And hear the passing foot of Time Step through the silent gloom. All in a moment, crash on crash, Down to the nethermost abyss, Pursues the uproar till it dies; From deep to deep, replies. Silence again the darkness seals, The midnight spectre of the moon; GROUPS IN MARBLE. Ah! at her touch, these Alpine heights Unreal mockeries appear; I hold my breath in chill suspense, Lest they should vanish hence. I breathe again, I freely breathe; Thee, Leman's lake, once more I trace, Like Dian's crescent far beneath, As beautiful as Dian's face: Pride of the land that gave me birth! All that thy waves reflect I love, Looks fairer than above. Safe on thy banks again I stray; Gazing on mountains as before, THE VOICE. THOU art not now so fair and gay as thou wert wont to be; Pale is thy cheek, once blooming as the wildrose on the tree; No longer are thy coral lips by sportive dimples crown'd, Thy form hath lost its airy grace, thy step its springing bound, Thine eyes-those deep and glorious eyes, at once so dark and bright Shine with a sadden'd luster now, a vail'd and languid light; I see upon thy noble brow the lines of anxious care, THE GROUPS IN MARBLE. THE two groups which we present to child, with his huge, shaggy companion, As to the novelty of subject, painters and sculptors rarely invent. The creation of people and scenes is not their principal object. Commonly they are content to draw the subjects of their compositions from history, sacred or profane, legendary lore, or the imagination of the poet. They do not seek in this way to be original, but rather to present such scenes and such And silver threads are twining with thy locks figures as may occasion the spectator at of ebon hair. Yet hast thou kept one gift from Heaven, unharm'd, unalter'd, still; How on my eager senses seems that tuneful voice to thrill! Like to the gushing melody of waters pure and clear, It comes amid the din of life to soothe my Visions of bright and banish'd scenes around me very speech was song: Pours forth a lay of triumph o'er the startling wrecks of Time! Thy fresh and youthful loveliness has ceased to charm the sight, Yet deem not, sweet enchantress, that thy wand Love's subtle spell thou yet mayst weave, since the first glance to say, "I know that subject;" it is their effort to seize upon what has already engaged the public mind, and to present it with new and unimagined beauties. Everybody has heard of the fidelity of the dog. Deeply affecting is the story of Gelert. We remember how the Welsh prince followed the chase, and as the sun went down came home to his castle; how his heart was glad as he thought of his child, a bud of promise; but how he trembled and grew pale as Gelert, the hound, his boy's companion, bounded forth, while his lips and fangs ran blood; how Llewthat he dared not express, but sought in elyn sought his child, a fear at his heart vain, and at last, in frantic rage, supposing the dog had devoured his little one, drew his sword and slew the creature as it fawned upon him; how the dying yell of the dog was echoed by an infant's cry, and concealed beneath a mangled heap he found his boy unhurt, while underneath the couch a great wolf lay all torn and dead. "Ah! what was then Llewelyn's pain! Something like this story, without its tragical ending, is that which these groups present. The devoted attachment of the dog to its owner is as true as it is interesting. His constant love is never chilled even by neglect; he cannot be estranged by ingratitude or harshness; he devotes his whole attention to his master, obeys his commands with docility and cheerfulness, tracks his steps, and watches his looks. Few companions are more pleas ant than a canine favorite, and few indeed are the friends that are to be found more true and loyal. Who need be ashamed of speaking in the praise of the dog? Did not Alexander the Great erect a city in memory of one of these favorites? and Solon did not think it beneath him to record the fidelity of that dog who leaped upon the funeral pile of his master, and perished in the flames. M. Lechesne has sculptured a high eulogium on the dog. The three actors in his drama he has designed with the utmost care, and finished with exquisite delicacy. In beautiful harmony are the positions of the child, the dog, and the serpent. The plaster casts of these two subjects were exhibited during 1851 in the Crystal Pal ATTACK AND ALARM. most part covered with sand, still stretches out its vast figure before the pyramids of Memphis. What has been said, however, must suffice. And enough it is to point the contrast between the simple and virtuous shepherd-life of the patriarch, and the rank and godless life of the already corrupt valley of the Nile. How must the pure and pious mind of Abraham have been shocked and grieved at what he beheld in a land where religion professedly bore sway, but where it had degenerated into a gross and degrading superstition! Before the days of Abraham, Egypt had been visited by a race of men belonging to the same family as that of the patriarch. We allude to the Hyksos, who invaded Egypt from the north-east, conquered the country, drove from the throne its native princes, and reigned instead for some The subject of this article may be more deeply studied in the following works:-Wilkinson's "Manners and Customs of the Egyptians," first and second series; Wilkinson's "Thebes and Modern Egypt;" Osburn's "Ancient Egypt, her Testimony to the Bible;" Bunsen's "Egypt's Place in Universal History;" Lepsius's "Chronologie der Aegypter;" Lepsius's "Discoveries in Egypt;" Kenrick's "Ancient Egypt under the Pharaohs;" Wathen's "Arts, Antiquities, and Chronology of Ancient Egypt;" which are the writings to which, besides the Bible, we have been chiefly indebted. centuries. But here we must give an outline of the history. In doing so, we think it safest implicitly to follow the authority of Lepsius. Menes, the Thinite, proceeding from Upper Egypt, founded Memphis, and so began the true history of the Egyptian people. The second dynasty continued its rule in Upper Egypt, and then came to an end. The first dynasty at Memphis was followed by the third, as well as by the fourth, both of them accordingly being Memphitic. Under the fourth, the old empire reached a high degree of prosperity. During its sway, the three pyramids which we have briefly described were erected. Of the development of its material greatness, an idea may be formed from the numerous and splendid tombs, destined to the worship of the dead, which are still found near its capital. This prosperity Lepsius dates as early as the second half of the four thousandth year before Christ. Then came the fifth dynasty in immediate succession to the fourth. The fifth was also a Memphitic dynasty. Cotemporaneously with it, there reigned at Elephantiné, in Upper Egypt, the sixth dynasty, Ethiopic in its origin. With its monarchs the Ethiopians first appear in the history of Egypt, and under them the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt were united, During the sway of the following dynasties, from the seventh to the eleventh, the prosperity of the land declined. The eleventh was Theban. Then the farfamed city of Thebes in Upper Egypt, with its local divinity, Amun, gained predominance and distinction. The twelfth, which was the second Theban dynasty, extended its power over the whole country, and raised it to a second period of bloom, which is testified by great architectural works, especially rock sepulchres, as may be seen at Beni Hassan, with its rich and enduring paintings. Soon, however, the light was extinguished. About two thousand one hundred years before the birth of our Lord, the Hyksos, a warlike nomad race of Shemites, seized Memphis, where they maintained themselves for five hundred and eleven years. At length native princes expelled the foreigners, who, retiring to Syria, are reported to have laid the foundations of Jerusalem. This victory was the first advantage gained by the |