OCTOBEE. 485 



of gods and goddesses, and the mystic responses of 

 the Dryades, the foliage itself, especially that of the 

 Laurus and Agnus Castus, when lain upon in the still- 

 ness of night, was thought to propitiate the presence 

 of the deity, facilitate the shadowed exhibition of 

 prophetic vision, and inspire the soul to pour out, in 

 frantic, furor, those Pythonic verses, supposed to be 

 dictated by the indwelling deity. 



" But now, alas ! the woods 



Have all forgotten the immortal voices 



Apollo, -with blithe Pan, no more rejoices 

 In viny solitudes ; 



And poets only hear, amid the trees, 



Glad birds and wandering bees." 



Like the foam that awakened into existence by the 

 frantic leap of the mountain-torrent, long remains 

 whirling on the surface of the dark water, as if unable 

 or unwilling to pass on with the under current, till a 

 pause in the supply at once leaves it unrecruited to 

 dissipate in air ; so the products of idolatry and super- 

 stition have kept their holds, age after age, in the 

 deep fastnesses of the woods, till the ignorance that 

 gave them birth, and the cunning that kept them up, 

 failing any longer to sustain them, they have passed 

 away from the scene, evanescent as the exhaling spray 

 at the foot of the stilled waterfall. 



Yet one more glance at the fading picture ere 

 dying day robes in mist the mountains, and spreads 

 her white vapours insensibly over the meadows and 

 woods. 



A yellow gleam from the west faintly illumines the 

 pallid foliage beneath a gloomy sky, like a vast painted 

 cathedral window in a black city. The distant horizon 

 fades into the dim and obscure, rivers and lakes frown 



