and satyrs to the resolves of her soul, to listen to Pan's arcadian notes in eve tide hour—to waken Echo from her retreat—she who leads the loves of angels, and presides at the festivities of spirits requires different materials to define those orbs which evince ceaseless inspiration. That soul may often be seen looking through the brilliant transparencies: observe her at her toilet, preparing for the presence of her loved one; or at her balcony, listening to a serenade from a voice she loves; seeking some trance of love—some dream—in presence of the smile of Luna and her train of children. Lovely woman, for whom battles, dire and bloody, falchion to falchion, have met; for whom the diver takes his wondrous way, midst clanging of deafening waters; aye, in the very path of the Leviathan amidst those coral towers, where the waves, the minnow children of the sea, play their buoyant antics to please the mermaids in the ambient sports. Woman, for whom ten thousand lamps are lighted, and sounds of sackbut and psaltery, and tender shrill toned flute are played; for whom Coridon pipes his notes, and Endymion vies with the wildest notes of the winds, that he may win the smiles of the graceful Diana.
For woman the haughty winds are encompassed; for her man was made, and Eden's breezes sighed; she has a mien, a glistening radiance in her eye, a being, a personality, which cannot be described by the same lines and contour as that being who steps in confidence, unbaffled by feeling.
With her the central point of influence is the heart; all her inclinations and impulses issue from this holy spot, and all sensation and feelings tend towards it. Her emotions are stronger and more vivid than man's, and, therefore, the eye is a more certain and immediate telegraph and communicator. The more intense and
