dut, and by famine within, were obliged to open the gates and receive their conqueror. The Queen and Longinus could not tamely stay to put on their chains. Mounted on the swiftest camels, they endeavoured to fly into Persia, to make fresh head against Aurelian, who entering the city was vexed to find his victory imperfect, and Zenobia yet unsubdued. A body of the swiftest horse was immediately dispatched in pursuit, who overtook and made them prisoners as they were

Zosimus. crossing the Euphrates.

Aure

lian, after he had settled Palmyra, returned to Emisa, whither the captives were carried after him. He sat on his tribunal to receive Zenobia, or rather to insult her. The Roman soldiers throng around her, and deniand her death with incessant shouts. Zenobia now was no longer herself: the former greatness of her spirit quite sunk within her; she owned a master, and pleaded for her life. "Her counsellors (she said) were to be blamed, and not herself. What could a weak short-sighted woman do, when beset by artful and ambitious men, 'who made her subservient to all their schemes? She never had aimed at empire, had they not placed it before her eyes in all its allurements. The let

ter which affronted Aurelian was not her `own; Longinus wrote it, the insolence was his." This was no sooner heard, than Aurelian, who was soldier enough to conquer, but not hero enough to forgive, poured all his vengeance on the head of Longinus. He was borne away to immediate execution, amidst the generous condolence of those who knew his merit, and admired the inward generosity of his soul. He pitied Zenobia, and comforted his friends. He looked upon death as a blessing, since it rescued his body from slavery, and gave his soul the most desirable freedom. "This world (said he with his expiring breath) is nothing but a prison; happy therefore he who gets soonest out of it, and gains his liberty."

The writings of Longinus are numerous, some on philosophical, but the greatest part on critical subjects. Dr. Pearce has collected the titles of twenty-five Treatises, none of which, except this on the Sublime, have escaped from the depredations of time and barbarians. And even this is rescued as from a wreck, damaged too much and shattered by the storm. Yet on this little and imperfect piece has the fame of Longinus been founded and erected. The learned and judi

с

cious have bestowed extraordinary commendation upon it. The Golden Treatise is its general title. It is one of those valuable remnants of antiquity, of which enough remains to engage our admiration, and excite an earnest regret for every particle of it that has perished. It resembles those mutilated statues, which are sometimes digged out of ruins. Limbs are broken off, which it is not in the power of any living artist to replace, because the fine proportion and delicate finishing of the trunk excludes all hope of equalling such masterly performances. From a constant inspection and close study of such an antique fraginent of Rome, Michael Angelo learned to execute and to teach the art of Sculpture; it was therefore called Michael Angelo's School. The same use may be made of this imperfect piece on the Sublime, since it is a noble school for critics, poets, orators, and historians.

an,

"The Sublime," says Longinus, "is an image reflected from the inward greatness of the soul." The remark is refined and just; and who more deserving than he of its application? Let his sentiments be considered as reflections from his own mind; let this piece on the Sublime be regarded as the

picture of its author. It is a pity we have not a larger portrait of him; but as that cannot be had, we must take up at present with this incomplete, though beautiful miniature. The features are graceful, the air is noble, the colouring lively enough to shew how fine it was, and how many qualifications are necessary to form the character of a critic with dignity and applause.

Elevation of thought, the greatest qualification requisite to an orator or poet, is equally necessary to a critic, and is the most shining talent in Longinus. Nature had implanted the seeds of it within him, which he himself improved and nursed up to perfection, by an intimacy with the greatest and sublimest writers. Whenever he has Homer in view, he catches his fire, and increases the light and ardour of it. The space between heaven and earth marks out the extent of the poet's genius; but the world itself seems too narrow a confinement for that of the critic.* And though his thoughts are sometimes stretched to an immeasurable size, yet they are always great without swelling, bold without rashness, far beyond what any other could

See Sect. ix. C 2