Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

On one side could be seen fathers and mothers weeping over the
dead bodies of their children, on the other, children inconsol-
able for the loss of their beloved parents. The morning sun rose
in splendor, and the sparkling waters danced in his beams, as if
rejoicing to meet again.
What form is moving yonder on the heights? pale and slender,
robed in white, enriched with the golden hues of the rising sun;
bearing a broken chain on one arm, and a girdle on t lr other.
It seems as though it were the guardian spirit of this once great
city, mourning o'er its fall. Slowly and thoughtfully she passes
on, till she reaches the still smoking ruins of the citadel. She
pauses, and casting down her soft dark eyes, surveys the desolation
that lies before her. The spectacle surprises her, but
her mien betrays neither fear nor horror. Her expression is
that of silent resignation to the will of Him, who makes the earth
His footstool. She was roused from reverie by a voice exclaiming:
"Seraphica here! The captive at liberty! The victim of
death, standing over the tombs of her persecutors."
Seraphica answered with a gentle gravity:" Yes, Iremcus," for
it was he, "the captive is free. After one had opened the door
of my prison to announce my approaching death, another mightier
than he, rent its strong walls asunder, and I was liberated.
I now stand gazing on a city, whose splendor has vanished from
the earth. Even whilst I am now speaking, I see several buildings
falling into ruins. Irenaeus, is not that my mother's dwelling?
Oh what of her, revered master? Is she amongst the living
or the dead?"
" You could scarcely wonder," replied Irenoeua, "if she had
shared the fate of so many. But no, Seraphica, she is saved,
but saved by slavery. She and some of her companions in the
faith, were, last night, shipped for Rome. But delay not to save
yourself; your chains show that you are a captive."
An hour later, Seraphica was seen standing on the deck of the
only sailable vessel to be found in the harbor. She was on her
way for Greece. One look as the vessel receded from the shore,
and it was the last, upon the ruins of a city, where she had spent
her few and momentous years.
She could discern her mother's half destroyed dwelling on the
projection of a hill; but the palm trees and little garden had dis-
appeared. And behold! while she was still casing, the walls
gave way, the roof fell in, and nothing remained of her once
loved home.
CHAPTER III.
METELLA.
WE will now conduct our readers to charming Attica, so often
celebrated in the poet's song, to the land of great generals and
lawgivers, to the cradle of philosophy, to the seat of the Muses,
and to the place of refuge for the Faith.
The fame of Athens had, at this time out-grown itself, and
began to tend towards her ruin. But even then she was in possession
of all the intellectual acquirements of the past ages, and
enjoyed the results of the thoughts, actions and labors of her
forefathers. For this reason, it is the ripest and most beautiful
period in her history. As the sun increases in beauty, whilst
sinking m the West, so did Athens when verging on her down-
fall.
The Emperor, Adrian, loved Athens more than any other city
in his vast dominions; and all the magnificent edifices and new
regular streets on the other side of Adrian's Arch, extending
wide, and forming, as it were, a second city, were the work of
this great Emperor. After this vast addition, Athens could accommodate
180,000 inhabitants. Adrian's Arch which thus connected
the old city with the new, and which to this day is m
good preservation, proclaims the later history of Greece in that
of development, in which the Roman life was bound up
with that ot the ancient Greek, and which had blended both na-
tionalities into one.
Outside tne old city, to the north-east, was a pyramidical
mountain caned Lycubett; at the present time it is over-grown
/, YD I A.
with thorns and brushwood. As tradition runs, Pallas, the tute-
lar goddess of Athens, was at one time fully occupied in order-
ing materials for building the Acropolis, whicu was dedicated
to her. ISIie was carrying even the Lycabett in her arms when
a crow fluttered round, and announced to her the birth of Erich-
thonius. Seized with terror, she let
Athens, where it now stands.
the mountain fall, close by
At the foot of this mountain, from the summit of which, the
traveler has a charming view of Athens towards the citadel, and
of the blue sea, were the palaces of the Greek and Roman no-
bles, who had settled there; and one which occupied the first
place amongst them, was that of a Greek matron, named Metella.
It stood not far from the principal entrance to the famous aque-
duct, built by Adrian, and a little higher than the magnificent
royal citadel outside Athens, which strangers still admire.
Like all the edifices of Adrian's time, Metella's palace was
of Roman architecture: still the better taste of the Grecian was
not wanting in the lightness and elegance with which the design
was carried out. Inserted on the front of the vestibule, was a
marble slab, on which might be read the name of the owner.
Over the door of the principal entrance, stood a brazen statue,
representing Hope, with the inscription, " Dum spiro spero,"
" As long as I breathe I shall hope."
Guarding the porch or entrance hall, was a slave, beautifully
attired. He bore handsomely wrought fetters, which he rattled
from time to time, thereby to give himself the appearance of a
door-keeper. His walk, and the ease with which he swung his
chain, proved that pride knows how to govern
all classes of
society, down to an ignorant door-keeper.
Metella tarries on the Pergula, a name given to a pavilion on
the roof, and which is supported by gilt pillars. The lady, in
all her natural elegance, reclines on a couch; and near her
stands a marble table, on which lies an unfolded book-roll. It
is the work of a Roman poet, her darling Virgil, whose eclogues
she is reading. She raises herself, and taking her pen, writes
down one of the most beautiful passages, on the reperusal of
which her eye, and the movement of her head, show plainly,
that the depth of some of the poet's words are not clear to
her. But some of the verses please her so much, that she reads
them aloud.
" Sicilian Muse, begin a loftier strain!
Tho' lonely shrubs and trees that shade the plain
Delight not all.
The last great age, foretold by acred rhymes,
Renews its flnish'd course; Saturuian times
Koll round again, and mighty years, begun
From their flrst orb, in radiant circles run.
The base degenerate iron offspring ends;
A golden progeny from heav'n descends:
The lovely boy, with his auspicious face,
Shall Pollio's consulship and triumph grace;
Majestic months set out with him to their appointed race.
The father bunish'd v'rtue shall restore,
And crimes shall threat the guilty world no more.
The son shall lead the life of gods, and be
By gods and heroes seen, and gods and terocs see.
The jarring nations he in peace shun bind,
And with paternal virtues rule mankind.
* * * * * * *
Mature in years, to ready honors move,
O of celestial scedl O foster son of Jove I
See lab'rin;* Nature calls thee to sustain
The nodding frame of Heav'n, and earth, and main;
See, to their base restored, earth, seas, and air,
And joyful ages from behind, m crowding ranks appear.
To sing thy praise, would heav'n my breath prolong,
Infusing spirits worthy such a song;
Not Thracian Orpheus should transcend my lays;
Nor Linus crown 'd with never fading bays;
Though each his heav'nly parent should Inspire;
The Muse instruct the voice, and Phoebus tune the *
lyre."
"Virgil, thou speakest beautifully," says Metella, "but I cannot
understand thee. Nearly fifty Olympaids have passed since
thy death, and I know nothing of that child of the gods who is
to expiate guilt, and to redeem the world. There art- a people in
Dryden'i Virgil.
*