porphyries, employed in the construction of St. Sophia, see The Decline and Fall, &c., vol. vii. page 120.

Note 17, page 208, line 8.

Nor is the balmy air of dayspring torn
With battle-sounds, &c.

The assault of the city took place at daybreak, and the Turks were strictly enjoined to advance in silence, which had also been commanded, on pain of death, during the preceding night. This circumstance is finely alluded to by Miss Baillie, in her tragedy of Constantine Palæologus:

"Silent shall be the march; nor drum, nor trump,
Nor clash of arms, shall to the watchful foe
Our near approach betray: silent and soft,
As the pard's velvet foot on Lybia's sands,
Slow stealing with crouch'd shoulders on her prey.'
Constantine Palæologus, act iv.

"The march and labour of thousands " must, however, as Gibbon observes, "have inevitably produced a strange confusion of discordant clamours, which reached the ears of the watchmen on the towers."

Note 18, page 209, line 21.

The dark-brow'd ranks are riven.

"After a conflict of two hours, the Greeks still maintained and preserved their advantage," says Gibbon. The strenuous exertions of the janizaries first turned the fortune of the day.

Note 19, page 210, last line.

From the Greek fire shoots up, &c.

"A circumstance that distinguishes the siege of Constantinople is the union of the ancient and modern artillery. The bullet and the battering-ram were directed against the same wall; nor had the discovery of gunpowder superseded the use of the liquid and inextinguishable fire."-Decline and Fall, &c., vol. xii. page 213.

Note 20, page 211, line 11.

And stanch the blood-drops, Genoa's fallen son! “The immediate loss of Constantinople may be ascribed to the bullet, or arrow, which pierced the gauntlet of John Justiniani (a Genoese chief). The sight of his blood, and exquisite pain, appalled the courage of the chief, whose arms and counsels were the firmest rampart of the city."-Decline and Fall, &c., vol. xii. page 229.

Note 21, page 215, line 6.

"The owl upon Afrasiab's towers hath sung
Her watch-song," &c.

Mohammed II., on entering, after his victory, the palace of the Byzantine emperors, was strongly impressed with the silence and desolation which reigned within its precincts. "A melancholy reflection on the vicissitudes of human greatness forced itself on his mind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian poetry: The spider has wove his web in the imperial palace, and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiab.""-Decline and Fall, &c., vol. xii. page 240.

Note 22, page 217, line 11.
The bowl of liberty.

One of the ceremonies by which the battle of Platea was annually commemorated was, to crown with wine a cup called the Bowl of Liberty, which was afterwards poured forth in libation.

Note 23, page 218, line 9.

In the Comneni's halls the Tartar sways.

The Comneni were amongst the most distinguished of the families who filled the Byzantine throne in the declining years of the eastern empire.

GREEK SONGS.

I. THE STORM OF DELPHI.*

FAR through the Delphian shades
An Eastern trumpet rung !

And the startled eagle rush'd on high,
With a sounding flight through the fiery sky;
And banners, o'er the shadowy glades,
To the sweeping winds were flung.

Banners, with deep-red gold

All waving as a flame,

And a fitful glance from the bright spear-head
On the dim wood-paths of the mountain shed,
And a peal of Asia's war-notes told
That in arms the Persian came.

He came with starry gems

On his quiver and his crest;

With starry gems, at whose heart the day
Of the cloudless orient burning lay,

And they cast a gleam on the laurel-stems,
As onward his thousands press'd.

* See the account cited from Herodotus, in Mitford's Greece.

But a gloom fell o'er their way,

And a heavy moan went by!

A moan, yet not like the wind's low swell, When its voice grows wild amidst cave and dell, But a mortal murmur of dismay,

Or a warrior's dying sigh!

A gloom fell o'er their way!

'Twas not the shadow cast

By the dark pine boughs, as they cross'd the blue
Of the Grecian heavens with their solemn hue ;-
The air was fill'd with a mightier sway—
But on the spearmen pass'd!

And hollow to their tread,

Came the echoes of the ground,

And banners droop'd, as with dews o'erborne,
And the wailing blast of the battle horn

Had an alter'd cadence, dull and dead,
Of strange foreboding sound.

But they blew a louder strain,

When the steep defiles were pass'd!

And afar the crown'd Parnassus rose,

To shine through heaven with his radiant snows,
And in golden light the Delphian fane
Before them stood at last!

In golden light it stood,

'Midst the laurels gleaming lone, For the Sun-god yet, with a lovely smile, O'er its graceful pillars look'd awhile,

Though the stormy shade on cliff and wood
Grew deep round its mountain-throne.

And the Persians gave a shout!

But the marble-walls replied,

With a clash of steel and a sullen roar
Like heavy wheels on the ocean-shore,
And a savage trumpet's note peal'd out,
Till their hearts for terror died!

On the armour of the god,

Then a viewless hand was laid;

There were helm and spear, with a clanging din, And corslet brought from the shrine within, From the inmost shrine of the dread abode, And before its front array'd.

And a sudden silence fell

Through the dim and loaded air!

On the wild-bird's wing, and the myrtle spray,
And the very founts, in their silvery way,
With a weight of sleep came down the spell,
Till man grew breathless there.

But the pause was broken soon!
"Twas not by song or lyre ;

For the Delphian maids had left their bowers,
And the hearths were lone in the city's towers,
But there burst a sound through the misty noon-
That battle-noon of fire!