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And through the fount of living flame
He cuts with fierce attack.

Down dropt the goat's head in its gore,
And with a sharp and brazen roar
The writhing lion dies.

The palsied snakes, with stiffened fang,
Like lifeless leaves unconscious hang,
And lose all strength to rise;
And belching rivers of black gore
Upon the clotted rocky floor
The smoking carcass lies.


A famous man was Glaucus' son
Then when Chimera died;
In Lycian land like him was none
In glory and in pride.

At public feast beside the king
He sate; him did the minstrel sing
With various-woven lays;

And old men in the halls were gay,
And maidens smiled, and mothers grey,
And eager boys would cease their play
To sound the hero's praise.

The Xanthian burghers, wealthy men,
Chose the best acres in the glen

Beside the fattening river-
Acres where best or corn would grow,
Or vines with clustered purple glow,
These, free from burden, they bestow
On Glaucus' son for ever.

The Xanthian king, to Protus bound,
For other dangers looks around,
And finds, but finds in vain.
'Gainst the stout Solymi to fight*
He set the brave Ephyrian knight,
And hoped he might be slain;
But from the stiff embrace of Mars
He soon returned, and showed his scars,
To glad the Xanthian plain.
A Lycian army then he led

Against the maids unhusbanded,

Where surly Pontus roars.
Before his spear the Amazon yields;
The breastless host, with mooned shields,
Far o'er Thermodon's famous fields
He drove to Colchian shores.

The Xanthian king despairs the strife-
"Let Protus fight for Protus' wife;
I will not tempt the charmed life
Of valiant Glaucus' son!"
Nor more against the gods he strives,
But with his hand his daughter gives
To brave Bellerophon.

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* A warlike people in Lycia mentioned by Homer-Ɛodúμoiσi kvdadíμorơi.

The pride of Lycian land: The Lycian lords obey his nod, The people hail him as a god,

And own his high command.
Fearless he lived without annoy,
Plucking the bloom of every joy;
For still, to help his need,

Jove's blue-eyed daughter, when he prayed,
Was present with her heavenly aid,
And lent the winged steed.

His heart with pride was lifted high;
Beyond the bounds of earth to fly
Impious he weened, and scale the sky,
And sit with Jove sublime.
Upward and northward far he sails,
O'er Carian crags and Phrygian vales,
And blest Mæonia's clime.

The orient breezes round him blowing
He feels; with light the ether glowing;
And from the planets in their going
He lists the sphery chime.
Bursts far Olympus on his view
Snowy, with gleams of rosy hue;

And round the heavenly halls,
All radiant with immortal blue,
The golden battlements he knew,
And adamantine walls.

And on the walls, with dizzy awe,
Full many a shapely form he saw
Of stately grace divine:

The furious Mars with terror crested,
Poseidon's power the mighty-breasted,
That rules the billowy brine;
And, linked with golden Aphrodite,
"The heavenly smith, in labour mighty,
Grace matched with skill he sees;
And one that in his airy hand
Displayed a serpent-twisted wand,
And floated on the breeze,

Both capped and shod with wings; and one
That lay in sumptuous ease

On pillowed clouds, fair Semele's son,
And quaffed the nectar'd bowl;
And one from whom the locks unshorn
Flowed like ripe fields of April corn,
And beaming brightness, like the morn,
Shower'd radiance on the pole;
And matron Juno's awful face;
And Dian, mistress of the chase;
And Pallas, that with eye of blue
Now sternly meets the hero's view,
Whom erst she met with love;

And, like a star of purer ray,
Apart, whom all the gods obey,

The thunder-launching Jove.

The ravishment of such fair sight
Thrilled sense and soul with quick delight
To bold Bellerophon ;

Entranced he looked; his winged steed,
Struck with the brightness, checked its speed,

Nor more would venture on.
Deaf to the eager rider's call,

Who spurred to mount the Olympian wall,
It stood like lifeless stone

A moment-then, with sudden wheel,
Earthward its flight it 'gan to reel;
For awful now were heard to peal
Sharp thunders from the pole,
And lightnings flashed, and darkly spread
O'er that rash rider's impious head
The sulphurous clouds did roll.
With eager gust the fiery storm
Resistless whirled his quaking form

Down through the choking air.
Loud and more loud the thunders swell-
Him with blind speed the winds impel;
Three times three days and nights he fell
Down through the choking air.

* So Homer.

At length, in mazy terror lost,
Him the celestial courser tossed
With fiercely-fretted mane;
And, by the close-involving blast
Impetuous hurried, he was cast
On the Aleian* plain.


Senseless, but lifeless not, he lay.
The gods had mercy shown
If they had slain, on that black day,
The blasted Glaucus' son:
But all the gods conspired to hate
The man, with impious pride elate,
Who dared to scale the sky.
Year after year, from that black day,
He pined his meagre life away,
Weak as a cloud or vapour grey,
And vainly wished to die.

On a wide waste, without a tree,
The unfrequent traveller there might see
The once great Glaucus' son.

Far from the haunts and from the tread
Of men, a joyless life he led ;
On folly's fruitage there he fed,
Dejected and alone;

Even as a witless boy at school,
Would sit and gaze into a pool
The blank Bellerophon;
Or to bring forth the blindworm red
That, creeping, loves a lightless bed,
Would turn the old grey stone.
And thus he lived, and thus he died,
And ended to the brute allied,

Who like a god began;

And he hath gained a painful fame,

And marred immortal praise with blame,
And taught to whoso names his name,


J. S. B.

Arrian, in his life of Alexander (ii. 5), alludes to this plain, or one bearing the same name, near the river Pyramus in Cilicia.


FROM the earliest records of what has been termed profane history, down to the present day, we have been accustomed to regard Europe as the centre of civilisation and of wealth. From Asia, Greece and Rome in early times, and the commerce of European nations more recently, exacted tribute and rich products. Two centuries ago the precious metals and tropical yield of South America and the West Indies excited the rapacity of adventurers from this and other countries; and towards the close of last century we had to recognise the germs of a great Anglo-Saxon power occupying the Atlantic shores and territory of North America, which we now see competing actively with us for a share in influencing the affairs of the world. Still both Asia and the American continent were regarded as merely the feeders of the commercial and political greatness of Europe. Africa was and remains comparatively an unknown continent, whilst the inhospitable regions of the north are shunned by all, save the hardy mariners engaged in the pursuit of the whale and the seal, the former for its industrial usefulness, and the latter as affording us articles of comfort and luxury. The extreme southern hemisphere had, indeed, been explored by Cook, Vancouver, Fourneaux, and others; and its clusters of islands were laid down in our charts, and some of them claimed as calling-stations for the shipping employed in our commerce with India, whilst others were appropriated for their valuable tropical productions. But beyond this the Southern Pacific and Antarctic Oceans were comparatively unknown and unvalued. Below the latitude of Cape Horn, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Indian Ocean, their waters were an unbroken solitude, save that occasionally a ship bearing the British flag might be seen steering for our penal settlement of Australia, there to deposit its living freight of criminal outcasts beyond reach of contact with the populations of the civilised world; and more re

cently with a few adventurous colonisers going out to cultivate its untrodden wilds, and, amidst privations and arduous toil, to wring from its soil the means of living, which they had been jostled out of on that of their own densely-peopled fatherland.

A mighty change, however, has come over us-unlooked for and undreamt of the issue of which the wisest can scarcely imagine for himself; for it is plainly not the unaided work of man which has brought about that change, but an overruling Providence, carrying out a preordained decree that one of the fairest portions of the globe shall be a solitude no longer. In most of the ordinary revolutions which have taken place in the world, human agency is directly traceable. We have witnessed in Europe the hardy tribes of the north overrunning the fertile soils, and subjecting to their rule the degenerate populations, of the south. We have seen similar changes in Asia; and one of these is now progressing in Africa, the northern provinces of which are being subjected to the Gaul. Colonisation and emigration are rapidly peopling the western states of the northern continent of America. But to produce such a change in the condition of those fardistant countries, whose shores are washed by the Pacific Ocean, and which are comparatively inaccessible to the ordinary movements of migratory populations, whilst they held out little to invite conquest, an extraordinary stimulus was required. That stimulus has been lately afforded in abundant and overpowering measure. A popular outburst, excited by the love of territorial aggrandisement, which is inherent in the nature of the people of the United States, and which, indeed, is inseparable from the very character of their institutions, led to the seizure by them of a portion of the territory of Mexico on the shores of the North Pacific Ocean. Under ordinary circumstances the acquisition was almost valueless. By land it was well-nigh

unapproachable. A wild and mountainous territory, occupied by various Indian tribes, intervened between California and the settled States of the Union. Commercially it was unimportant, and likely to remain so for years, if not for centuries, whilst, as an agricultural territory, it was inferior in fertility to those States. It had certainly the advantage of nearer proximity to India and China; but there was scarcely along any portion of the west coast of either the United States or South America sufficient population to render that advantage of value. But in 1848, only a few months after its acquisition by the model Republic, the world was startled with the news that gold had been discovered upon the Sacramento River, within a short distance from the port and bay of San Francisco; and further advices informed us that the deposits of that mineral extended over a territory five hundred miles in length by forty to fifty miles in width; and that, in fact, it promised to be inexhaustible in amount, as it was unrivalled in fineness. A population immediately began to flock to San Francisco by every possible route from the United States, from the west coast of South America, and from the islands of the Pacific. Even China was attracted by the flattering acconnts promulgated of the richness of the mines, and began to pour forth its population towards the scene. The emigrating population of Great Britain swelled the tide; and, within twelve months of the first discovery of gold, we heard of nearly three hundred sail of shipping being assembled in San Francisco bay, deserted by their officers and crews, who had joined their cargoes of passengers, and run off to partake of the rich harvest provided for them. The sufferings and privations endured by some of the early adventurers -the crime, the outrage, and utter lawlessness, which spread over the entire territory-were recorded in vain. No warning was heeded. The passion for gain is one of the strongest in our nature. Men heard of fortunes being earned in a day of the poorest becoming suddenly rich; of revelry and wild enjoyment ensuing after severe toil

and privation; and the tide of adventurers flowed on with increased volume as every day added to the assurance that the attracting cause was a permanent one. It cannot be forgotten by the commercial people of this country how vast was the impulse given to the industry, and the agricultural, manufacturing, and maritime interests of the American Republic, by this state of things. Her people almost ceased to care about supplying Europe with farm products. The wealthy settlers in her golden territory could now afford to consume what had formerly been exported as a disposable surplus. Their monetary circulation was being largely expanded; and to a corresponding extent they were enabled to extend their commercial operations to every country. Their shipping, having earned large freights by the transport of passengers from the Atlantic ports round Cape Horn to California, could afford to make the run across the Pacific in ballast to India and China, whence they competed with us in homeward freights on terms almost ruinous to the British shipowner. And although they became, and have since continued to be, larger consumers than formerly of our products of every kind, it is very questionable whether, in the long run, this increased consumption would have compensated us as a nation for the advantages which America had obtained over us, through the possession of this new territory, with its mineral riches, in carrying on the traffic between our eastern possessions and China and the various markets of Europe.

The route westward, by the North Pacific to the Indian Ocean, was thus for the first time established as a great maritime highway by the enterprising mercantile community of the United States. We had ourselves long previously used the route via Cape Horn and the South Pacific in our trade with Chili, Peru, and other countries on the west coast of South America. It was reserved for us for the first time to open out for the commerce of the world an eastern route from the Atlantic and from Europe across the South Pacific Ocean; in fact,

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