[93] Travels in Greece, Palestine, Egypt, &c. vol. ii. p. 22. [94] The invocation alluded to must be familiar to the youngest reader: "Sing, heavenly muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb or of Sinai didst inspire That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning, how the heavens and earth Rose out of chaos; or, if Zion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed Fast by the oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song." _Paradise Lost_, book i. [95] Travels by Rae Wilson, vol. i. p. 220. [96] Travels in Palestine, vol. i. p. 297. [97] 2 Samuel xviii. 18. Travels in Palestine, vol. i. p. 302. [98] See Tour of the Holy Land, by the Rev. Robert Morehead, D.D.; in the Appendix to which are extracts from this anonymous manuscript. [99] "Having so often mentioned Clarke, I must say, that although an animated and interesting writer, and not incorrect in his descriptions, he is more deficient in judgment than any traveller I am acquainted with; and I do not recollect an instance, either here or in Egypt, where he has attempted to speculate, without falling into some very decided error. I mention this the more, as his enthusiasm and conviction of the truth of his own theories led me formerly to place great faith in his authority."--_Anonymous Journal_. [100] Buckingham, vol. i. p. 316.--The following words, put into the mouth of Titus by the eloquent author of the "Fall of Jerusalem," will be read with interest in connexion with the view just given. The son of Vespasian stands on the Mount of Olives:-- "It must be-- And yet it moves me, Romans! it confounds The counsels of my firm philosophy, That Ruin's merciless ploughshare must pass o'er And barren salt be sown on yon proud city. As on our olive-crowned hill we stand, Where Kedron at our feet its scanty waters Distils from stone to stone with gentle motion, As through a valley sacred to sweet Peace, How boldly doth it front us! how majestically! Like a luxurious vineyard, the hill-side Is hung with marble fabrics, line on line, Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer To the blue heavens. Here bright and sumptuous palaces, With cool and verdant gardens interspersed; Here towers of war that frown in massy strength. While over all hangs the rich purple eve, As conscious of its being her last farewell Of light and glory to that fated city. And as our clouds of battle, dust, and smoke Are melted into air, behold the Temple, In undisturbed and lone serenity, Finding itself a solemn sanctuary In the profound of heaven! It stands before us A mount of snow fretted with golden pinnacles! The very sun, as though he worshipped there, Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs; And down the long and branching porticoes, On every flowery sculptured capital Glitters the homage of his parting beams. By Hercules! the sight might almost win The offended majesty of Rome to mercy."