Those ruined shrines and towers, that seem
The relics of a splendid dream;
Amid whose fairy loveliness
Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard;
Nought seen but (when the shadows, flitting
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam)
Some purple-winged Sultana[135] sitting
Upon a column motionless,
And glittering like an idol bird.
* * * * *
But nought can charm the luckless Peri;
Her soul is sad—her wings are weary—
Joyless she sees the sun go down
On that great temple, once her own[136];
Whose lonely columns stand sublime,
Flinging their shadows from on high,
Like dials, which the wizard, Time,
Had raised to count his ages by.

These lines lead us to some beautiful observations by Sir John Malcolm:—

"Among the traces of a great nation's former glory," says he, "there is none upon which the mind dwells with more serious thought than on the magnificent ruins of its ancient palaces. How forcibly are we reminded of our condition, when told that an edifice, in the erection of which a kingdom's wealth had been exhausted; which was adorned with every ornament that the art of the world could supply, and whose history was engraven on the imperishable rocks with which it was constructed, was not only fallen into decay, but that its founder was unknown, and the language in which its history was inscribed was no longer numbered among the tongues of man!" These observations are peculiarly applicable to the present state of Balbec.

This city stood in the road between Tyre and Palmyra; its history is, nevertheless, so lost in obscurity, that, considering the splendour and magnificence of its remains, we are astonished! Scarcely any thing of its history is known; and even its existence appears to have been unknown for many centuries to the Romans.

Tradition states that it was built by Solomon; and for the truth of this the Jews quote the following passage from the Book of Chronicles[137]:—"Also he (Solomon) built Beth-horon the upper, and Beth-horon the nether, fencied cities, with walls, gates, and bars; and Baal-ath."

For the greater confirmation, it is thought that Balbec is meant when Solomon says—"the tower of Lebanon, that looketh towards Damascus." The Arabs go even so far as to assert, that this city was built by the king as a residence for the Queen of Sheba; and Sir William Ouseley quotes a passage, wherein it is mentioned that a tradition in Persian implies, that Solomon often passed his day at Balbec, and his night at Istakr.

The names Heliopolis and Balbec are words of different languages, which have nearly the same signification. The sun was worshipped by the ancient inhabitants of the country, under the name of Baal. Balbec signifies the vale of Baal; and Heliopolis the city of the sun.

That Balbec derived, not only its religion, but its very name, from Heliopolis in Egypt, is rendered certain by a passage in Macrobius:—"In the city called Heliopolis, the Assyrians worship the sun with great pomp, under the name of the Heliopolitan Jove; and the statue of this god was brought from a city in Egypt, also called Heliopolis, where Senumens or Senepos reigned over the Egyptians, by Opios, ambassador from Delebor, king of the Assyrians, together with some Egyptian priests, of whom Partemetis was the chief, and it remained long among the Assyrians before it was removed to Heliopolis."

The same author adds, "that he declines giving the reason for this fact, or telling how the statue was afterwards brought to the place, where in his time it was worshipped, more according to the Assyrian than the Egyptian rites, as circumstances foreign to his purpose."

As Balbec has never been the seat of a monarch, antiquaries are greatly at a loss to conceive how the expense of these magnificent structures could have been supplied by private or municipal liberality. The orientals, however, explain the prodigy by a never-failing expedient,—they were constructed by the fairies or genii!

That these temples did not exist when Pompey went through Heliopolis to Damascus is probable, because the writers of that time, who mention less remarkable structures with admiration, take no notice of any such building; and it is certain that they did exist in the time of Caracalla; because Heliopolis is to be seen on many of his coins; and vows in favour of him and his empress are recorded in two inscriptions, the remains of which are still to be seen on the pedestals of the columns of the great portico of the temple.

That Heliopolis was constituted a colony by Augustus CÆsar, is rendered probable, by some medals which still remain, and in which it is called, "Colonia Julia Augusta;" but it was not till the time of Septimius Severus that the temple was impressed on the reverse of the coins.

When we consider the extraordinary magnificence of the temple of Balbec, we cannot but be greatly surprised at the silence of the Greek and Roman authors in respect to it. Mr. Wood, who has carefully examined all the ancient authors, has found no mention of it, except in a fragment of John of Antioch, surnamed Malala, who attributes the building of it to Antoninus Pius. His words are:— "Ælius Antoninus Pius[138] built a great temple at Heliopolis, near Libanus, in Phoenicia, which was one of the wonders of the world." Some Roman medals also have been found, upon the reverse of which is a representation something similar to those temples, with the inscription:—Colonia Heliopolitana Jovi Optimo Maximo Heliopolitano.

One circumstance, however, militates against the idea that Antoninus Pius was the builder of these temples; viz., that Julius Capitolinus says nothing about them, though he gives a list of that emperor's buildings, and speaks of others of much less consideration. It must, however, be remembered, that the work of Julius Capitolinus is known to be so extremely defective, that though Antoninus reigned one-and-twenty years, and transmitted to posterity the character of one of the best princes that ever ruled, yet the particulars, that merited such extraordinary praise, are utterly unknown.

Gibbon thus remarks upon the different fortunes of Balbec and Emesa:—"Among the cities which are enumerated by Greek and oriental names in the geography and conquest of Syria, we may distinguish Emesa and Heliopolis; the former as a metropolis of the plain; the latter as the metropolis of the valley. Under the last of the CÆsars they were strong and populous; the turrets glittered from afar; an ample space was covered with public and private buildings; and the citizens were illustrious by their spirit, or at least by their pride; by their riches, or at least by their luxury. In the days of paganism, both Emesa and Heliopolis were addicted to the worship of Baal, or the sun: but the decline of their superstition or splendour has been marked by a singular variety of fortune. Not a vestige remains of the temple of Emesa, which was equalled in poetic style to the summits of Mount Libanus; while the ruins of Balbec, invisible to the writers of antiquity, excite the curiosity and wonder of European travellers."

In the reign of Heraclius its garrison was strengthened, that it might be enabled to withstand the Arabs; and when Christianity gained the ascendancy under Constantine, he shut up many pagan temples; but it was Theodosius, who converted its temple into a Christian church, the walls of which are still standing. The conversion of it into a fortress was the work of the Caliphs, when this part of the world fell under the government of the Caliphs, called the Ommiades; an incurious and therefore an ignorant race, during whose time nothing is recorded of Balbec, although it was then a considerable city. The ancient name, Balbec, during this time was restored, instead of Heliopolis, which was probably a translation of Balbec, or at least substituted for it, when it passed out of the possession of its own native oriental inhabitants.

In Ebn Haukal's[139] oriental geography, Balbec is mentioned thus:—"Beyond the borders of Demeshk is Baalbek, situated on an eminence. Here are the gates of palaces, sculptured in marble; and lofty columns, also of marble. In the whole region of Syria there is not a more stupendous or considerable edifice than this[140]."

The approach to this ruined city is thus described by Mr. Bruce:—"The form of Mount Libanus, as seen from the plain of Bekka, is this: first, a range of mountains, extremely proper for culture, and of no considerable height, sloping easily to the plain, and covered with trees that are not very thickly planted. On the other side of these rises a chain of mountains of an extraordinary height, bare for the most part, and stony, cut in every rain, and covered with snow, except in summer. Thus they continue till they descend much more steeply on the other side towards the sea. The valleys within this high chain of mountains, which on one side run parallel with the sea-coast, and on the other form the east side of the plain of Bekka, are mostly narrow; but abundantly fertile, were they in the hands of better people, under a better government; industry being here always followed by oppression."

Mr. Carne describes his arrival thus:—"The sun set on the vast temple, and the mountains around it, with indescribable grandeur; the chain of Anti-Libanus, in front, was covered with snow; and the plain, wild and beautiful, stretched at its feet farther than the eye can reach: the pigeons, of many-coloured plumage, flew in clusters round the ruined walls, at whose feet were a variety of trees and flowers, amidst which ran a clear and rapid stream."

We now pass to Mons. La Martine:—"On reaching the summit of the breach, we knew not where to fix our eyes. On every side we beheld marble doors of prodigious dimensions, windows and niches, bordered with exquisite sculpture, richly ornamented arches, fragments of cornices, entablatures, and capitals. The master-work of art; the wrecks of ages, lay scattered as thickly as the grains of dust beneath our feet. All was mystery, confusion, inexplicable wonder. No sooner had we cast an admiring glance on one side, than some new prodigy attracted us on the others. Every attempt, we made to interpret the religious meaning of the monuments, was immediately defeated by some newly-discerned object. We frequently groped about in this labyrinth of conjecture. One cannot restrict, in one's fancy, the sacred edifices of an age, or a people of whose religion or manners nothing certain can be known. Time carries his secrets away with him, and leaves his enigmas as sports for human knowledge. We speedily renounced all our attempts to build any system out of these ruins; we were content to gaze and admire, without comprehending any thing beyond the colossal power of human genius; and the strength of religious feeling, which had moved such masses of stone, and wrought so many master-pieces."

The ruins of Balbec do not present a crowd of fallen edifices, spread over a large extent, like those of Palmyra; they consist only of three distinct buildings, which stand not far from each other, in a plain at a short distance from the inhabited part of the town. As in the instance of Palmyra, where we shall have to make a similar remark, it is impossible to convey an adequate idea of these works of art, without the accompaniments of plates[141]. We adopt, therefore, an abstract of the account of M. Volney, since his description is, perhaps, the best that we have:—"In entering the principal gate, which faces the mountain on the east, we come to an hexagonal court, which is one hundred and eighty feet in diameter. This is strewed with broken columns, mutilated capitals, and the remains of entablatures and cornices. Around it is a row of ruined edifices, which display all the ornaments of the richest architecture. On passing through this court towards the west, we enter a large square, three hundred and fifty feet wide, and three hundred and thirty-three in length. Along each side of this court runs a sort of gallery, divided into various compartments, seven of which may be reckoned in each of the principal wings. It is not easy to conceive the use of this part of the structure; but it does not diminish our admiration at the beauty of the pilasters, and the richness of the frieze and entablature; neither is it possible to avoid remarking the singular effect which results from the mixture of the garlands, the large foliage of the capitals, and the sculpture of wild plants, with which they are every where ornamented. At the west end of this court stand six enormous columns, which appear to be totally unconnected with the rest of the building. On a more attentive examination, however, we discover a series of foundations, which seem to mark out the peristyle of a grand temple, to which these columns belonged. Pococke supposes this temple never to have been finished. We must examine them narrowly before we can conceive all the boldness of the elevation, and the richness of their workmanship. Their shafts are twenty-one feet eight inches in circumference, and fifty-eight high; so that the total height, including the entablature, is from seventy-one to seventy-two feet. These six pillars are all that now remain of twenty-four[142].

The southern side of the grand temple has, at some distant period, been blocked up to build a smaller one, the peristyle and walls of which are still remaining. This temple presents a side of thirteen columns by eight in front, which, like all the rest of the ruins, are of the Corinthian order[143]. To reach the smaller temple from the larger one, you must cross trunks of columns, heaps of stone, and a ruinous wall. After surmounting these obstacles, you arrive at the gate, where you may survey the enclosure, which was once the habitation of a god; but instead of the awful scene of a prostrate people, and sacrifices offered by a multitude of priests, the sky, which is open from the falling in of the roof, only lets in light to show a chaos of ruins covered with dust and weeds. The walls, which supported the roof, are thirty-one feet high, and without a window. There are tablets in the form of lozenges, on which are represented Jupiter seated on his eagle, Leda caressed by the swan, Diana with her bow and crescent, and several busts which seem to be figures of emperors and empresses.

The number of lizards to be seen is so great, that Mr. Bruce says, that those he saw one day in the great court of the temple of the sun amounted to many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones of the ruined buildings being covered with them. Besides these two, there is a smaller temple of very great beauty. The building itself, exclusive of the pillars, by which it is surrounded, is only thirty-two feet in diameter; and the height is divided into two parts, in the lower of which the architecture is Ionic, and in the higher Corinthian. The grace and lightness of the exterior of this edifice has induced several competent critics to call it "a perfect gem of art."

In respect to the six columns, "In order to reach them," says M. de La Martine, "we had to pass external boundary walls, high pedestals, terraces, and foundations of altars. At length we arrived at the feet of the columns. Silence is the only language of man, when what he feels outstrips the ordinary measure of his impressions. We stood in mute contemplation of these six columns, and scanning with our eyes their diameter, their elevation, and the admirable sculpture of their architraves and cornices. Their diameter is six feet, and their height upwards of seventy-two. They are formed out of two or three blocks, which are so perfectly joined together, that the junction lines are scarcely discernible[144]. They are composed of light yellow stone, presenting a sort of medium between the polish of marble and the deadness of turf. When near them, the sun lighted them only on one side, and we sat down for a few moments in their shade. Large birds, like eagles, scared by the sound of our footsteps, fluttered above the capitals of the columns, where they have built their nests; and returning, perched upon the acanthus of the columns, striking them with their beaks, and flapping their wings like living ornaments, amidst these inanimate wonders, all of which appear to resemble works of dwarfs."

Branching off to the southward of the avenue, you come to the stumps of some fluted columns sticking above the sand on either side of a small simple gateway; and a few paces to the westward, on an eminence, are the ruins of the small temple just now mentioned; and from thence is enjoyed the magnificent coup-d'oeil of all the ruins and the vast desert.

Beyond the circular colonnade lie the prostrate remains of a very magnificent building, constructed of a species of marble superior to the generality of that used in these ruins. The walls are constructed of large single stones, nicely fitted one above another. Richly ornamented windows extend around the walls, and some columns of one entire piece, twenty-two feet in length and about nine in circumference, lie prostrate on the ground.

"About fifty yards distant from the temple," says Mr. Maundrell, "is a row of Corinthian pillars, very great and lofty, with a most stately architrave and cornice at the top. This speaks itself to have been part of some very august pile; but what one now sees of it is but just enough to give a regret, that there should be no more remaining. Here is another curiosity of this place, which a man need be well assured of his credit, before he ventures to relate, lest he should be thought to strain the privilege of a traveller too far. That which I mean is a large piece of an old wall, which encompasses all these structures last described. A wall made of such monstrous great stones, that the natives hereabouts, (as it is usual in things of this strange nature,) ascribe it to the architecture of the devil. Three of the stones, which were larger than the rest, we took the pains to measure. We found them to extend sixty-one yards in length; one twenty-one; the other two each twenty yards; and in the breadth of the same dimensions. These three stones lay in one and the same row to the end; the rest of the wall was made also of great stones, but none I think so great as these. That which added to the wonder was, that these stones were lifted up into the wall more than twenty feet from the ground."

Besides these ruins, there are several very large subterraneous passages, which lead under the great citadel, immense vaults of very massive architecture, constructed in a very beautiful manner. Some of these, no doubt, were tombs; and this leads us to remember, that Mr. Browne says[145], that when he was at ZahhlÉ, he met with a young man, a Druse, who told him, that near Balbec, a few years ago, in digging, the body of a man was found interred in a kind of vault, having a piece of unstamped gold in his mouth; near him a number of leaden plates marked with characters, to them unknown. These were sold and melted. La Martine says, that not far from Balbec, in a valley of the Anti-Libanus, human bones of immense magnitude have been discovered; and that this fact is so confidently believed among the neighbouring Arabs, that the English consul in Syria (Mr. Farren), a man of extensive information, proposes to visit those mysterious sepulchres.

The walls of the ancient Heliopolis are traceable in many directions, and show that the city must have been of a very considerable extent. "These walls," says Mr. Wood, "like most of the ancient cities of Asia, appear to be the confused patch-work of different ages. The pieces of capitals, broken entablatures, and, in some places, reversed Greek inscriptions, which we observed in walking round them, convinced us that their last repairs were made after the decline of taste, with materials, negligently collected as they lay nearest to hand, and hastily put together for immediate defence."

The stone of which the temple is built was brought from the neighbouring quarry, at the bottom of which there is a single stone lying seventy feet in length, fourteen in breadth, and fourteen feet six inches in thickness. Its weight, according to these dimensions, must be above 1130 tons! It would require, we are told, the united strength of sixty thousand men of our time to raise this single stone!

The stones used at Balbec are the largest that have ever been moved by human power. The largest in the pyramids of Egypt do not exceed eighteen feet. But here, of those that compose the sloping wall, which surrounds the temple on the west and north, three occupy a space of one hundred and seventy-five feet and a half; viz., the 1st, fifty-eight feet seven inches; the 2nd, fifty-eight feet eleven inches; and the 3rd, exactly fifty-eight feet long; and each of these is twelve feet thick.

"When it is considered," says La Martine, "that some of these blocks of hewn granite are raised one above another to the height of twenty or thirty feet from the ground;—that they have been brought from distant quarries, and raised to so vast a height to form the pavement of the temple;—the mind is overwhelmed by such an example of human power. The science of modern times cannot help us to explain it, and we cannot be surprised, therefore, that it is referred to the supernatural."

"The shades of evening," continues this accomplished traveller, "which slowly descended the mountains of Balbec, and obscured, one by one, the columns and the ruins, imparted an additional air of mystery to the picturesque and magical effect of these wonderful works of man and time. We felt the full insignificance of human nature; and while contemplating the mass and eternity of these monuments, we compared man to the swallows, which build their nests for a season in the interstices of these stones, without knowing for whom, or by whom, or for what purpose, they were collected together. The power which moved these masses, and accumulated these blocks, is unknown to us. The dust of the marble, which we trod under our feet, knows more than we do, but can tell us nothing; and in a few centuries to come, the generations who may, in their turn, visit the wrecks of our monuments now existing, will ask, without being able to answer, why we laboured without being able to build and carve. The works of man are more durable than his thoughts; movement is the law of the human mind; the definite is the dream of man's vanity and ignorance; God is an object which incessantly recedes from us, as we endeavour to approach him. We are continually advancing, but we never arrive. The Deity, whose divine figure man seems to embody in his imagination, and to enshrine in his temples, continually enlarges, and exceeds the narrow boundaries of our minds, and our edifices; leaves the temples and the altars to crumble into dust; and summons man to seek him where he is most plainly manifested, viz., in intelligence, in virtue, in nature, and in eternity."

We now give place to observations, made by travellers on the relative merits of the architecture, employed in these magnificent edifices. "When we compare the ruins of Balbec," says Mr. Wood, "with those of many ancient cities, which we visited in Italy, Greece, and Egypt, and in other parts of Asia, we cannot help thinking them the remains of the boldest plan we ever saw attempted in architecture."

"The enormity of the scale," says Mr. Buckingham, "and the magnificence of design, seen throughout the whole of the architecture, with the boldness of the drawing, and the exquisite finish of the sculpture, impressed me with an idea of a labour more than human. I should conceive that in no country was to be found so superb a monument of the inimitable perfection of ancient architecture. The temples and the tombs of Egypt were here equalled in the enormity of the masses, that composed them; and the chamber of the Pyramids rivalled in the closeness of the masonry; while the monuments of Athens itself, in the age of Pericles and Praxiteles, were at least equalled in the richness and beauty of the sculptured ornaments, that adorned them. It appeared to me, that the temples of Edfou, Tentyris, and Thebes, fell far short of this, as a whole; for here the ponderous strength of the Egyptian, and the chastened elegance of the Grecian school, are both most happily combined."

Mr. Addison appears to have entertained a different opinion:—"Those ruins," says he, "though so striking and magnificent, are yet, however, quite second rate, when compared with the Athenian ruins; and display, in their decorations, none of the bold conceptions and the genius which characterise the Athenian architecture. There is a peculiar sameness in the decorations of the figures, entablatures, and cornices. The ornaments are all alike, and the festoons of grapes, and vine-leaves hung on goats' and horses' heads, the pendent bunches of grapes and Cupids, however rich in appearance, and beautifully chiselled, can never excite such feelings, as one small portion of the Panathenian frieze of the Parthenon, or one of the Metopes, representing a battle between a Centaur and a LapithÆ. There is a genius in these latter, a combination of talent, a soul, fire, and spirit, which are looked for in vain in the Balbec remains. The great Panathenian frieze of the Parthenon, which extended all around that temple, with its hundreds of horses and warriors, its spirited grouping, and faithful delineation of forms and attitudes; and above it the wars of the Centaurs and LapithÆ, possessed a most exciting interest. The vine-branches and wheat ears of the temple of Balbec, although unquestionably very beautiful, yet appear tame in comparison; and cannot certainly be put in competition with these master-pieces of architectural decoration."

"Several artists have observed," says Mr. Wood, "a similitude between some European buildings, and some parts of the ruins of Palmyra and Balbec; from which they have, perhaps, too hastily concluded, that the former were copied from the latter. The portico of the Louvre at Paris has been compared in this light to the ruins of Palmyra; as also with the portico at Balbec; but we cannot discover any foundation for inferences so injurious to the memory of the architect, who built that noble structure, which is as justly admired as it is unaccountably neglected."

We now return to the page of M. de La Martine:—"Round this platform is ranged a series of chapels, decorated with niches, admirably sculptured, friezes, cornices, and vaulted arches; all displaying the most finished workmanship, but evidently belonging to a degenerate period of art. But this impression can only be felt by those whose eyes have been previously exercised by the contemplation of the pure monuments of Athens and Rome. Every other eye would be fascinated by the splendour of the forms and the finish of the ornaments. The only fault is too much richness; the stone groans beneath the weight of its own luxuriance, and the walls are overspread with a lace-work of marble."

The town is, at present, so ruined, that there are not counted more than fifty habitable dwellings in it; though the whole number within the walls may be estimated at five hundred.

The state of the city is deplorable. The emirs of the house of Harfoushe had already greatly impaired it, when an earthquake, in 1759, completed its destruction; insomuch, that though in 1751 there were five thousand inhabitants, not twelve hundred are remaining; and all these poor, without industry or commerce, we are told, and cultivating nothing but a little cotton, some maize, and a few watermelons.

Even the ruins are altering every day. Dawkins and Wood found nine large columns standing; but Volney, in 1784, found only six. They reckoned twenty-nine at the lesser temple; but now there are only twenty. There were, originally, thirty-four,—eight in front, and thirteen along each of the sides. The others were overthrown by an earthquake. Nature alone, however, has not effected this devastation. The Turks have had their share in the destruction of the columns; the motive for which was merely that of procuring the iron cramps, which served to join the several blocks of which each column is composed. Famine, the pestilence, and the sword, gradually thinned the inhabitants. The population of five thousand, which the town contained in 1751, has now dwindled down to barely two hundred persons: nor does each house continue to possess, as it did in the time of Maundrell, "ten or fifteen cows, besides goats and sheep, the goats being of an uncommon species, worth from 30l. to 35l. a piece!" The description left by Maundrell was faithful at the time he visited those ruins; but since that period several important parts have been destroyed, and even the place of the temple at the end of the great court, which was probably the principal edifice of the whole, cannot at this day be made out[146].

The hands of the natives have, no doubt, committed many ravages. Faccardine, prince of the Druses, destroyed or injured several parts of these ruins; but when he afterwards visited Italy, and contracted a taste for its architecture, he is said to have bitterly lamented the sacrilege he had committed at Balbec[147]. "It is in fact man, not nature," says an elegant writer, "that has wrought this change. No blight has seared the soil, or poisoned the air, but a degrading despotism has as effectually dried up the sources of social prosperity, as if some elementary convulsion had suddenly turned the clime of beauty cold and dark, and struck the teeming earth with hopeless barrenness. Indeed, Turkish oppression has done what no unkindness of nature could have effected. The splendours of Palmyra rose, under the breath of a free commerce, in the midst of a sandy desert; but nothing has been able to preserve that and many other great cities from crumbling into heaps of ruins, at the death-touch of the gloomy tyranny, that now hangs like a pall over the land."

We must now give place to what Mons. de La Martine says, in regard to the Bishop of Balbec:—"We proceeded very little farther that day. The road diverged from these ruins, and led us to others. We passed over some vaults, and arrived at a small house. This was the palace of the Bishop of Balbec, who, clothed in his violet-coloured pelisse, and attended by some Arab peasants, advanced to meet us, and conducted us to his humble door. The poorest peasant's cottage in Burgundy, or Auvergne, possesses greater luxury and elegance than the palace of the Bishop of Balbec. It was an ill-built hut, without either window or door, and through the decayed roof the rain worked its way, and dropped on the mud floor. This was the bishop's dwelling! But at the further end of the yard, which adjoined the house, a neat wall, newly built of blocks of stone, and a door and window in ogives of Moorish architecture, each ogive being constructed of finely-sculptured stones, attracted my attention. This was the church of Balbec, the cathedral of that town, in which other gods have had splendid temples; the chapel in which the few Arab Christians, who live here amidst the wrecks of so many different faiths, worship, under a purer form, the universal Creator."

The bishop was a fine old man with hair and beard of silver, a grave and benevolent cast of features, and a sweet and well-modulated voice. He was the perfect image of a priest of poetry or romance, says the traveller; and his aspect, which denoted peace, resignation, and charity, was well suited to the scene of ruins and meditation in which he lived.

The traveller afterwards describes a delightful scene. He and his friends were sitting by moonlight near the bishop's hut. "We were silent. Suddenly a soft plaintive strain, a slow modulated murmur stole through the grotesque ogives of the ruined wall of the bishop's house. This vague and confused sound swelled higher and higher, until we distinguished it to be a chant from the united voices of choristers; a monotonous, melancholy strain, which rose, fell, and died away, and was alternately revived and re-echoed. This was the evening prayer, which the Arab bishop was chanting with his little flock, in the skeleton of that which once had been his church; viz., a heap of ruins piled up by a heap of idolaters. We were totally unprepared for music of this sort, where every note was, in fact, a sentiment or a sign from the human breast. How little did we expect it in this solitude, in the bosom of the desert, issuing, as it were, from mute stones, strewed about by the combined influence of earthquakes, barbarous ignorance, and time! A hallowed emotion inspired us, and we joined with religious fervour in the sacred hymn, until the last sighs of the pious voices had died away, and silence again reigned over the venerable ruins."

We conclude with the words which Seller in his history of Palmyra adopts from Cicero: "Whenever we see such remains of venerable antiquity, such lasting records of the names and achievements of great persons, we are admonished to take care so to regulate our actions, that we may convince the world we have settled our prospect upon the rewards of future ages, and not on the flatteries of the present; and so remember, that monuments being erected to the memory of those who have lived well in this world before they left it, put us in mind, that there is nothing here permanent and immutable; and that it is the duty of considering man to aspire towards immortality[148]."