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“Nerium Oleander. In Cyprus it retains its ancient name, Rhododaphne, and the Cypriots adorn their churches with the flowers on feast-days.” —Journal of Dr. Sibthorpe, Walpole's Turkey.

Id.

Lonicera Caprifolium, used by the girls of Patmos for garlands.

Cuscuta europæa. “From the twisting and twining of the stems, it is compared by the Greeks to the dishevelled hair of the Nereids.” —Walpole's Turkey.

“The produce of the island in these acorns alone amounts annually to fifteen thousand quintals.” —Clarke's Travels.

Now Santa Maura—the island, from whose cliffs Sappho leaped into the sea.

“The precipice, which is fearfully dizzy, is about one hundred and fourteen feet from the water, which is of a profound depth, as appears from the dark blue colour and the eddy that plays round the pointed and projecting rocks.” —Goodisson's Ionian Isles.

See Mr. Goodisson's very interesting description of all these circumstances.

I have attempted, in these four lines, to give some idea of that beautiful fragment of Sappho, beginning

This word is defrauded here, I suspect, of a syllable; Dr. Clarke, if I recollect right, makes it “Balalaika.”

“I saw above thirty parties engaged in dancing the Romaika upon the sand; in some of those groups, the girl who led them chased the retreating wave.” —Douglas on the Modern Greeks.

“In dancing the Romaika (says Mr. Douglas) they begin in slow and solemn step till they have gained the time, but by degrees the air becomes more sprightly; the conductress of the dance sometimes setting to her partner, sometimes darting before the rest, and leading them through the most rapid revolutions; sometimes crossing under the hands, which are held up to let her pass, and giving as much liveliness and intricacy as she can to the figures, into which she conducts her companions, while their business is to follow her in all her movements, without breaking the chain, or losing the measure.”

For a description of the Pyrrhic Dance see De Guys, &c. —It appears from Apuleius (lib. x.) that this war-dance was, among the ancients, sometimes performed by females.

See the costume of the Greek women of Natolia in Castellan's Mœurs des Othomans.

The sword was the weapon chiefly used in this dance.

Homer, Il. 2. 753.

It is said that Leonidas and his companions employed themselves, on the eve of the battle, in music and the gymnastic exercises of their country.

“This morning we paid our visit to the Cave of Trophonius, and the Fountains of Memory and Oblivion, just upon the water of Hercyna, which flows through stupendous rocks.” —Williams's Travels in Greece.

This superstitious custom of the Thessalians exists also, as Pietro della Valle tells us, among the Persians.

An ancient city of Zea, the walls of which were of marble. Its remains (says Clarke) “extend from the shore, quite into a valley watered by the streams of a fountain, whence Ioulis received its name.”

Zea was the birthplace of this poet, whose verses are by Catullus called “tears.”

These “Songs of the Well,” as they were called among the ancients, still exist in Greece. De Guys tells us that he has seen “the young women in Prince's Island, assembled in the evening at a public well, suddenly strike up a dance, while others sung in concert to them.”

“The inhabitants of Syra, both ancient and modern, may be considered as the worshippers of water. The old fountain, at which the nymphs of the island assembled in the earliest ages, exists in its original state; the same rendezvous as it was formerly, whether of love and gallantry, or of gossiping and tale-telling. It is near to the town, and the most limpid water gushes continually from the solid rock. It is regarded by the inhabitants with a degree of religious veneration; and they preserve a tradition, that the pilgrims of old time, in their way to Delos, resorted hither for purification.” —Clarke.

—Virgil.

One of the titles of the Virgin:—“Maria illuminatrix, sive Stella Maris.” —Isidor.

“Violet-crowned Athens.” —Pindar.

The whole of this scene was suggested by Pliny's account of the artist Pausias and his mistress Glycera, Lib. 35. c. 40.

The traveller Shaw mentions a beautiful rill in Barbary, which is received into a large bason called Shrub wee krub, “Drink and away”—there being great danger of meeting with thieves and assassins, in such places.

The Arabian shepherd has a peculiar ceremony in weaning the young camel: when the proper time arrives, he turns the camel towards the rising star, Canopus, and says, “Do you see Canopus? from this moment you taste not another drop of milk.” —Richardson.

“Whoever returns from a pilgrimage to Mecca hangs this plant (the mitre-shaped Aloe) over his street door, as a token of his having performed this holy journey.” —Hasselquist.

This form of notice to the caravans to prepare for marching was applied by Hafiz to the necessity of relinquishing the pleasures of this world, and preparing for death:—“For me what room is there for pleasure in the bower of Beauty, when every moment the bell makes proclamation, ‘Bind on your burdens?’”

The watchmen, in the camp of the caravans, go their rounds, crying one after another, “God is one,” &c. &c.

“It was customary,” says Irwin, “to light up fires on the mountains, within view of Cosseir, to give notice of the approach of the caravans that came from the Nile.”

Virg.

See, for an account of this dance, De Guy's Travels

Φιλταθ' Αρμοδι' ουπω τεθνηκας.

The Huma.

The name which the Greeks give to the Virgin Mary.

The ancients had a mode of divination somewhat similar to this; and we find the Emperor Adrian, when he went to consult the Fountain of Castalia, plucking a bay-leaf and dipping it into the sacred water.

The air, to which I have adapted these words, was composed by Mrs. Arkwright to some old verses, “Tell me what's love, kind shepherd, pray?” and it has been my object to retain as much of the structure and phraseology of the original words as possible.

“A certain Spaniard, one night late, met an Indian woman in the streets of Cozco, and would have taken her to his home, but she cried out, ‘For God's sake, Sir, let me go; for that pipe, which you hear in yonder tower, calls me with great passion, and I cannot refuse the summons; for love constrains me to go, that I may be his wife, and he my husband.’” —Garcilasso de la Véga, in Sir Paul Rycaut's translation.

In this song, which is one of the many set to music by myself, the occasional lawlessness of the metre arises, I need hardly say, from the peculiar structure of the air.

This and the Songs that follow (as far as page 266.) have been published, with music, by Messrs. Addison and Beale, Regent Street.