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Article THE PHILOSOPHER AND HIS PUPIL. ← Page 6 of 7 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Philosopher And His Pupil.
thc dangerous fascination of wit and grace . Her jiride had been piqued by the desertion of Heros ; and she prepared for the attempt with tlic strong desire of success , and confidence of her powers . " Let him but gaze upon my form , drink the dark lustre of my eyes , or listen to my passion-breathing lay , ancl he is my slave for ever . " The confederates applauded her resolution , and , as they gazed upon
the animated temptress , exulted in the confidence of success . Heros kept the vigil ofhis initiation in the temple of Minerva , robed in white , and crowned with the acanthus-flower—he knelt before the awful shrine of the goddess , ivhose statue frowned in stately majesty upon her suppliants . Half the night had passed in solitude and prayer , yet the neophite still knelt , motionless as the statues around him ; the dim
light from the perfumed lamps faintly showing the slender marble columns , and gilding , with a silvery tint , their delicately carved capitals , before an arch , which led to the secret recesses of the temple , hung a richly embroidered veil of the prismatic colours , having in its centre a golden triangle . The meditations of Heros were disturbed b y the faint tone of a lute , struck with a master-hand so soft and sweet , that nought
could live between its sound and silence . " Do I dream ? " he exclaimed : " or have my senses indeed become refined to that which is not earthly?—Nearer and nearer comes the sound—I am lost in melody . " As he spoke , tbe strain increased in power , and a voice of sweetness accompanied the instrument to the following words :
" Drink of my cup—the am ' ranth-flower , That in its golden bosom lies , 1 pluck'd in that eternal bower , Where love ne ' er fades and hope ne ' er ( lies . " Drink of my cup—the gift I bring , Is light—is life—eternal gain 5
'Twas drawn at that immortal spring , Whose waters time can never drain . " As the strain concluded , a cloud of rich perfume filled the temple , and a female figure , bearing a golden cup , advanced towards the astonished Heros ; a silver veil floated over her form , sufficiently
transparent to display thc most perfect symmetry ; gems of value hung upon her naked arms and feet ; with bctwitching grace , she presented to the trembling neophite her insidious gift . " Immortality ! " he exclaimed : " Can it be ?—Am I deemed worthy the eternal boon ?—Spirit !¦—goddess ! whate ' er thou art , in mercy to > ny bewildered senses , repeat the promise !—tell me !" " Drink of my cup , " exclaimed the figure , " and pleasure—immor-VOL . I . no .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Philosopher And His Pupil.
thc dangerous fascination of wit and grace . Her jiride had been piqued by the desertion of Heros ; and she prepared for the attempt with tlic strong desire of success , and confidence of her powers . " Let him but gaze upon my form , drink the dark lustre of my eyes , or listen to my passion-breathing lay , ancl he is my slave for ever . " The confederates applauded her resolution , and , as they gazed upon
the animated temptress , exulted in the confidence of success . Heros kept the vigil ofhis initiation in the temple of Minerva , robed in white , and crowned with the acanthus-flower—he knelt before the awful shrine of the goddess , ivhose statue frowned in stately majesty upon her suppliants . Half the night had passed in solitude and prayer , yet the neophite still knelt , motionless as the statues around him ; the dim
light from the perfumed lamps faintly showing the slender marble columns , and gilding , with a silvery tint , their delicately carved capitals , before an arch , which led to the secret recesses of the temple , hung a richly embroidered veil of the prismatic colours , having in its centre a golden triangle . The meditations of Heros were disturbed b y the faint tone of a lute , struck with a master-hand so soft and sweet , that nought
could live between its sound and silence . " Do I dream ? " he exclaimed : " or have my senses indeed become refined to that which is not earthly?—Nearer and nearer comes the sound—I am lost in melody . " As he spoke , tbe strain increased in power , and a voice of sweetness accompanied the instrument to the following words :
" Drink of my cup—the am ' ranth-flower , That in its golden bosom lies , 1 pluck'd in that eternal bower , Where love ne ' er fades and hope ne ' er ( lies . " Drink of my cup—the gift I bring , Is light—is life—eternal gain 5
'Twas drawn at that immortal spring , Whose waters time can never drain . " As the strain concluded , a cloud of rich perfume filled the temple , and a female figure , bearing a golden cup , advanced towards the astonished Heros ; a silver veil floated over her form , sufficiently
transparent to display thc most perfect symmetry ; gems of value hung upon her naked arms and feet ; with bctwitching grace , she presented to the trembling neophite her insidious gift . " Immortality ! " he exclaimed : " Can it be ?—Am I deemed worthy the eternal boon ?—Spirit !¦—goddess ! whate ' er thou art , in mercy to > ny bewildered senses , repeat the promise !—tell me !" " Drink of my cup , " exclaimed the figure , " and pleasure—immor-VOL . I . no .