140 gUaniijujs. 
From a Poppy I have taken 
Mortal’s balm and mortal’s bane; 
Juice that, creeping through the heart, 
Deadens every sense of smart; 
Doomed to heal or doomed to kill, 
Fraught with good or fraught with ill. 
Mrs. Robinson. 
Acanthus.... The Arts. 
The Acanthus blooms in greatest perfection by the 
great rivers of hot climates. Among the ancients, it 
was a favourite, and they adorned their furniture, 
vases, and costly dresses, with its elegant leaves. 
When any obstacle obstructs the growth of the Acan¬ 
thus, it puts forth fresh force and grows with addi¬ 
tional vigour. Thus genius is strengthened by the 
difficulties which it cannot overcome. Callimachus, an 
ancient architect, derived the idea of the Corinthian 
capital, from seeing the leaves of an Acanthus sur¬ 
rounding a basket which had been set upon the ground, 
and impeded the regular growth of the plant. 
Tired at first sight with what the muse imparts, 
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts, 
While from the bounded level of our mind 
Short views we take, nor see the length behind; 
But, more advanced, behold with strange surprise 
New distant scenes of endless science rise. 
Pope. 
