Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, As he beheld the Stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow The symbol of a lofty lineage wore; No followers at His back, nor in His hand Buckler, or sword, or spear--yet in His mien Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled, A kingly condescension graced His lips, The lion would have crouched to in his lair. His garb was simple, and His sandals worn; His statue modelled with a perfect grace; His countenance, the impress of a God, Touched with the open innocence of a child; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon; His hair, unshorn, Fell to His shoulders; and His curling beard The fulness of perfected manhood bore. He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, As if His heart was moved; and stooping down, He took a little water in His hand And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean!" And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant's stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshiped him. N. P. Willis. CLXLX. PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE. The golden light into the painter's room Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole From the dark pictures radiantly forth, And in the soft and dewy atmosphere, Like forms and landscapes magical they lay. Parrhasius stood, gazing forgetfully Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus-- The vulture at his vitals, and the links Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh; And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth With its far-reaching fancy, and with form And color clad them, hiss fine earnest eye Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl Of His thin nostril, and his quivering lip Were like the wingéd god's, breathing from his fight