Apollo ought not to have been ignorant of this term of rhetoric, since he was the god of orators. But alack-a-day! a poor lover says all that he thinks, without sufficiently considering how he says it: disorder is his eloquence; and when the heart speaks, adieu to wit. Thus Daphne was inexorable; but at length exhausted with fatigue, and ready to sink, she implored the aid of the gods, who changed her into a laurel.

Apollo plucked a branch from this tree, made it into a crown for his head, and wears it to this day. He is said to distribute similar wreaths to Genius. The laurel had two peculiar virtues; the one was that of preserving the wearer from the thunderbolt; the other that of disclosing truth in dreams, to such persons as placed its leaves under their ear.

Apollo wept the loss of Daphne. He was seated under the shade of that fatal laurel, which hid her from his view, when Clitia came thither to walk. Clitia, daughter of Orchamp, king of Babylon, was not critically beautiful, but she had the delicate grace of a young and languishing flower; she saw Apollo, blushed, and cast down her eyes: Apollo did the same. By turns they gazed on each other, their eyes met, their emotions increased to agitation. From that instant an avowal was superfluous; their hearts had spoken in a look, and no longer needed the aid of words.

The hour of happiness flies rapidly; night approached, and they must separate; they exchanged vows to meet again the next day at the same spot near the laurel." What!" you exclaim, "near this very laurel! under those branches through which Daphne yet breathes ?"Yes, my Emilia, so evanescent is that passion which usurps the name of love; it is only a pure and spiritual sentiment, which binds the soul of the lover to the disembodied spirit of his beloved; and perhaps there are as few able to inspire as calculated to feel it.

The following day Clitia prepared to keep her promise; but as love's first steps are always timid, she prevailed on her sister, Leucothea, to attend her; this indiscretion had most fatal consequences; Clitia was more tender, but Leucothea more animated; the one was fair, the other was a brunette.

The brunette soon burned for the lover of her sister, and less bashful than she, went one day alone to the place of meeting. At first Apollo evinced surprise; but surprise was shortly succeeded by pleasure, and Daphne, the mute witness of this scene, saw with horror, that in every species of infidelity it is only the first step which costs any thing. Clitia, in search of her sister, came upon the faithless pair at a very unlucky juncture. Suddenly indignation and fury seized that heart, formerly so gentle.

She flew to the palace of her father, revealed to him the crime of Leucothea, and conducted him to the retreat of the lovers. At that instant they were exchanging adieus; Leucothea mixed tears with her kisses, and smiles with her tears, as she repeated that they should meet again on the ensuing day. Casting a timid glance around, she at length hastened away, with a heart palpitating between fear and pleasure: at the entrance of the wood she met her father. At this sight she remained mute and motionless; and the terrible Orchamp, taking her disorder for the proof of his dishonor, buried her alive under the very laurel her crime had outraged. Clitia, struck with terror and remorse, took to flight.

The next day brought Apollo to the wood. He saw no person; he advanced with a passionate sigh, and darted his eager eyes into the depth of that desert, sad, and silent grove. He called Leucothea; Echo alone replied to his voice. Hardly had he set his foot on the tomb of Leucothea, than lamentable accents, ascending from the ground, addressed him in these words.

"Stay! respect the ashes of her who perished because she loved too well. Thy feet now press that heart upon which thy head hath rested; they trample upon those charms, which, but till yesterday knew no other caresses than those of Zephyr. Oh, remember Leucothea! to soften her punishment, come sometimes to the spot where she dwells, to nourish thy grief; then shall her etherial spirit mix with the air thou inhalest, and descend with thy breath to the bottom of thy heart!"

I will not attempt to paint the state of Apollo. He was mo tionless, like a mortal struck by lightning; but at last his tears found way, and softened the agony of his grief. These tears, moistening the earth, penetrated to the body of Leucothea, and restored it to animation. She reappeared; but under a new form; and her lover saw a tree arise, from which precious balms are extracted.

Meanwhile Clitia, tormented by remorse, wandered towards the tomb of her sister; at sight of Apollo she stopped. Sorrow and resentment by turns swayed her bosom; but the god retreated from her with disdain, and by that blow terminated her punishment. A woman endures outrage and fury from a beloved object, but she sinks under contempt.

Clitia, in expiring, became a feeble and pliant plant, the flower of which, incessantly turning toward the sun, seems yet to follow and importune her lover. It is from this circumstance that in France we give it the name of tournesol.

Adieu, Emilia! thou art my sun, I the fond flower, whose leaves flourish or fade as thou drawest nigh or recedest.

(To be continued.)

FOR THE POLYANTHOS.

BAGATELLES.

A REFLECTION FOR THE ILLIBERAL.

A PERSON may not merit favor, as that is only the claim of man, but can never demerit charity, for that is the command of God.

MISREPRESENTATIONS.

There is no such thing as an impartial representation. A looking glass, one might be apt to imagine, was an exception to this proposition, and yet we never see our own faces justly in one. It is gives us nothing but the translations of them. A mirror even reverses our features, and presents our left

hand for our right. This is an emblem of all personal reflections.

TITLES.

Titles of honor are like the impressions on coins-which add no value to gold and silver, but only render brass current.

DELICACY.

The chaste mind, like a polished plane, may admit foul thoughts, without receiving their tincture.

PUBLIC LIFE.

Men are like plants-some delight in the sun, and others in the shade.

HUMAN NATURE.

There are two sorts of moral writers-The one represents human nature in an angelic light, and the other in a beastly one-They are both wrong. Dr. Young has a just sentiment in his Centaur, which reconciles these different writers. "We cannot think too highly of our natures, nor to meanly of ourselves."

TRIFLES.

It is in what the world reckons trifles that a good understanding should most employ itself. Great occasions generally direct their own operations, and but seldom occur; while every day's experience presents you with small cares sufficient to exercise your utmost prudence upon: Therefore,

"Think nought a trifle, though it small appear,
Small sands, the mountain-moments make the year,
And trifles, life. You care to trifles give,
Or you may die, before you learn to live."

DR. YOUNG.

=

SELECTED POETRY.

THE ACTOR'S EPITOME.

BY AARON HILL.

IF comprehension best can power express,
And that's still greatest which contains the less;
No rank's high claim can make the player's small,
Since acting each, he comprehends them all!

Off, to due distance, half the stalking train !
Blots of a title your low tastes profane :
No dull, cold mouther shares the actor's plea,
Rightly to seem, is transiently to be.

Arduous the task, and asks a climbing brain;
A head for judgement, and a heart for pain:
Ere sense imprest reflects adopted forms,
A changeful nature shakes with borrow'd storms,
Then strong mark'd passions signs external bear,
And stamp assum'd distinctions on the player;
JOY, GRIEF, FEAR, ANGER, PITY, SCORN, and hate,
WONDER, SHAME, JEALOUSY, and LOVE's soft weight.

These, when he paints, did he but first conceive,
Each on his fancy would its image leave;
Thence ductile fibres catch the expressive spring
And the eyes dart it, and the accents ring.

You, who would Joy's triumphant pride express,
What most you wish, imagine you possess.
Strait flames th' idea to the kindling eye,
And every nerve in concord braces high:
Treading on air, each joint a soul displays ;
The looks all lighten, and the limbs all blaze.

VOL. I.

But you who act unhoping GRIEF's distress,
Touch fancy with some home-felt wretchedness.
Then slack'ning nerves the loose impression take ;
Each sad look sickens ; the shock'd spirits break;
Dim falls the faded eye ;-the steps drag slow,
And every heedless gesture heaves with woe

FEAR is but active grief, avoiding pain,
Yet flies too faintly, and avoids in vain :

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