ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES.

Diogenes Alexandro roganti ut diceret, Si quid opus esset, "nunc quidem paullulum," inquit, "a sole."---Cicero Tusc. Disp.

BY WINTHROP MACK WORTH PRAED, ESQ.

I.

SLOWLY the monarch turned aside :
But when his glance of youthful pride
Rested upon the warriors gray

Who bore his lance and shield that day,
And the long line of spears, that came
Through the far grove like waves of flame,
His forehead burned, his pulse beat high,
More darkly flashed his shifting eye,
And visions of the battle plain

Came bursting on his soul again.

II.

The old man drew his gaze away
Right gladly from that long array,

H

As if their presence were a blight
Of pain and sickness to his sight;
And slowly folding o'er his breast
The fragments of his tattered vest,
As was his wont, unasked, unsought,
Gave to the winds his muttered thought,
Naming no name of friend or foe,

And reckless if they heard or no.

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III.

Ay, go thy way, thou painted thing, Puppet, which mortals call a king, Adorning thee with idle gems, With drapery and diadems, And scarcely guessing, that beneath The purple robe and laurel wreath, There's nothing but the common slime Of human clay and human crime !— My rags are not so rich,--but they Will serve as well to cloak decay.

IV.

"And ever round thy jewelled brow
False slaves and falser friends will bow;
And Flattery,- -as varnish flings
A baseness on the brightest things,-
Will make the monarch's deeds appear
All worthless to the monarch's ear,

Till thou wilt turn and think that Fame, So vilely drest, is worse than shame!— The gods be thanked for all their mercies, Diogenes hears nought but curses!

V.

"And thou wilt banquet!—air and sea
Will render up their hoards for thee;
And golden cups for thee will hold
Rich nectar, richer than the gold.
The cunning caterer still must share
The dainties which his toils prepare ;
The page's lip must taste the wine
Before he fills the cup for thine!—
Wilt feast with me on Hecate's cheer?

I dread no royal hemlock here!

VI.

"And night will come; and thou wilt lie Beneath a purple canopy,

With lutes to lull thee, flowers to shed
Their feverish fragrance round thy bed,
A princess to unclasp thy crest,
A Spartan spear to guard thy rest.—
Dream, happy one!-thy dreams will be
Of danger and of perfidy ;-

The Persian lance,-the Carian club!

I shall sleep sounder in my tub!

VII.

"And thou wilt pass away, and have
A marble mountain o'er thy grave,
With pillars tall, and chambers vast,
Fit palace for the worm's repast!
I too shall perish !-let them call
The vulture to my funeral;

The Cynic's staff, the Cynic's den,
Are all he leaves his fellow men,—
Heedless how this corruption fares,-

Yea, heedless, though it mix with theirs!"

THE LAZZARONI.

I SHOULD be unwilling to question the delights of the Island of Calypso, with its refreshing shades, or of the cool grotto of Circe; I would give the garden of Alcinous its fabled charms; nor do I detract from their several merits, when I would add one other spot to this short catalogue of earthly paradises. There is a softness and a witchery of beauty in Palermo, that has awed even Saracens, and their barbaric inscriptions even now attest that they could feel and spare. She has suffered under the rod of the Turk, has bowed beneath the iron sway of the Norman, and has been debilitated by the licentious. ness of the French; yet the vesper bell has tolled in token of her energies, for like the sea that fondles at her feet, or Etna, the giant mountain, she either boils with rage, or slumbers in repose. Still she has received successive dynasties ever preserving her monuments intact, and she now stands a solitary example to the world of having been loved and not abused.

At times I have stood upon the strand enamoured of