Excerpt
Chapter I.
Here let us seek Athenæ's towers,The cradle of old Cecrops' race,The world's chief ornament and grace;Here mystic fanes and rites divine,And lamps in sacred splendour shine;Here the gods dwell in marble domes,Feasted with costly hecatombs,That round their votive statues blaze,Whilst crowded temples ring with praise;And pompous sacrifices hereMake holidays throughout the year.
ARISTOPHANES.
The moon was moving through the heavens in silent glory; and Athens, with all her beautiful variety of villas, altars, statues, and temples, rejoiced in the hallowed light.
The white columns of the lofty Parthenon stood in distinct relief against the clear blue sky; the crest and spear of Pallas Promachos glittered in the refulgent atmosphere, a beacon to the distant mariner; the line of brazen tripods, leading from the Theatre of Dionysus, glowed like urns of fire; and the waters of the Illyssus glanced right joyfully, as they moved onward to the ocean. The earth was like a slumbering babe, smiling in its sleep, because it dreams of Heaven.
In the most ancient and quiet part of the city, not far from the gate Diocharis, was the modest mansion of Anaxagoras; and at this tranquil hour, the grand-daughter of the philosopher, with her beloved companion Eudora, stood on the roof, enjoying the radiant landscape, and the balmy air.
Philothea's tall figure was a lovely union of majesty and grace. The golden hair, which she inherited from a Laconian mother, was tastefully arranged on the top of her head, in a braided crown, over the sides of which the bright curls fell, like tendrils of grapes from the edge of a basket. The mild brilliancy of her large dark eyes formed a beautiful contrast to a complexion fair even to transparency. Her expression had the innocence of infancy; but it was tinged with something elevated and holy, which made it seem like infancy in Heaven.
Eudora had more sparkling eyes, lips more richly coloured, and a form more slender and flexile. Her complexion might have seemed dark, had it not been relieved by a profusion of glossy black hair, a portion of which was fastened with a silver arrow, while the remainder shaded her forehead, and fell over her shoulders.
As they stood side by side, with their arms twined around each other, they were as lovely a sight as the moon ever shone upon. Totally unlike each other, but both excellent in beauty. One might have been a model for the seraphs of Christian faith, the other an Olympian deity.
For a few moments, Philothea stood in earnest silence, gazing upon the bright planet of evening—then, in a tone of deep enthusiasm, she exclaimed:
"It is a night to feel the presence of the gods! Virgin sister of Phœbus, how calm thou art in thy glorious beauty! Thou art filling the world with music—silent to the ear, but audible to the heart! Phidias has embodied the unbreathing harmony in stone, and we worship the fair proportions, as an emanation from the gods. The birds feel it—and wonder at the tune that makes no noise....