The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 406, December 26, 1829

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Various. The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 406, December 26, 1829

VIRGIL'S TOMB

LAST CHRISTMAS DAY

THE FALL OF ZARAGOZA

THE BANQUETTING HOUSE, WHITEHALL.1

RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS

TOUCHING FOR THE KING'S EVIL

BOOKSELLERS' MARKS OR SIGNS

THE NATURALIST

DIFFERENT COLOURS OF THE EGGS OF BIRDS

EFFECTS OF SEA AIR

THE DUGONG, THE MERMAID OF EARLY WRITERS

SPIDERS

SWARMING OF BEES

THE CHAMELEON'S ANTIPATHY TO BLACK

RULES FOR THE WEATHER

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

PERIODICAL LITERATURE

THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

DR. LARDNER'S CYCLOPAEDIA

THE YOUNG LADY'S BOOK

THE ZOOLOGICAL KEEPSAKE

THE LOST LAMB; OR, THE CHILD SAVED

THE GATHERER

SPILLING THE SALT

KANGAROOS

THE EARL OF MANSFIELD

"IN SPITE OF HIS TEETH."

SWAN RIVER

SIAMESE YOUTHS

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This consecrated relic of genius stands on the hill of Posilipo, in the environs of Naples. Its recent state is so beautifully described by Eustace, that we shall not, like gipsys do stolen children, disfigure it to prevent recognition.

Proceeding westward along the Chiaia and keeping towards the beach, says Eustace, we came to the quarter called Mergyllina. To ascend the hill of Posilipo we turned to the right, and followed a street winding as a staircase up the steep, and terminating at a garden gate. Having entered, we pursued a path through a vineyard and descending a little, came to a small square building, flat-roofed, placed on a sort of platform on the brow of a precipice on one side, and on the other sheltered by a super-incumbent rock. An aged ilex, spreading from the sides of the rock, and bending over the edifice, covers the roof with its ever verdant foliage. Numberless shrubs spring around, and interwoven with ivy clothe the walls and hang in festoons over the precipice. The edifice before us was an ancient tomb—the tomb of VIRGIL! We entered; a vaulted cell and two modern windows alone presented themselves to view: the poet's name is the only ornament of the place. No sarcophagus, no urn, and even no inscription to feed the devotion of the classical pilgrim. The epitaph which though not genuine is yet ancient, was inscribed by the order of the Duke of Pescolangiano, then proprietor of the place, on a marble slab placed in the side of the rock opposite the entrance of the tomb, where it still remains. Every body is acquainted with it—

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In opposition to these arguments, or rather conjectures founded upon the vague expressions of a single poet (a poet often censured for his obscurity), we have the constant and uninterrupted tradition of the country supported by the authority of a numerous host of learned and ingenious antiquaries; and upon such grounds we may still continue to cherish the conviction, that we have visited the tomb of Virgil, and hailed his sacred shade on the spot where his ashes long reposed.

The laurel which was once said to have sprung up at its base, and covered it with its luxuriant branches, now flourishes only in the verses of youthful bards, or in the descriptions of early travellers; myrtle, ivy and ilex, all plants equally agreeable to the genius of the place, and the subjects of the poet, now perform the office of the long-withered bays, and encircle the tomb with verdure and perfume.

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