hand, Dr. Baynard laid his hand on his heart, and Mr. Skrine held a
clean looking-glass to his mouth. I found his pulse sink gradually, till
at last I could not find any by the most exact and nice touch. Dr.
Baynard could not feel the least motion in his heart, nor Mr. Skrine the
least soil of breath on the bright mirror he held to his mouth; then
each of us by turns examined his arm, heart, and breath, but could not,
by the nicest scrutiny, discover the least symptom of life in him. We
reasoned a long time about this odd appearance as well as we could, and
all of us judging it inexplicable and unaccountable; and, finding he
still continued in that condition, we began to conclude that he had
indeed carried the experiment too far; and at last were satisfied he was
actually dead, and were just ready to leave him. This continued about
half an hour. As we were going away, we observed some motion about the
body; and, upon examination, found his pulse and the motion of his heart
gradually returning. He began to breathe gently and speak softly. We
were all astonished to the last degree at this unexpected change; and,
after some further conversation with him, and among ourselves, went away
fully satisfied as to all the particulars of this fact, but confounded
and puzzled, and not able to form any rational scheme that might account
for it."

HERMOTIMUS

I.

"Wilt not lay thee down in quiet slumber?
Weary dost thou seem, and ill at rest;
Sleep will bring thee dreams in starry number--
Let him come to thee and be thy guest.
Midnight now is past--
Husband! come at last--
Lay thy throbbing head upon my breast."

II.

"Weary am I, but my soul is waking;
Fain I'd lay me gently by thy side,
But my spirit then, its home forsaking,
Through the realms of space would wander wide--
Everything forgot,
What would be thy lot,
If I came not back to thee, my bride?"

III.

"Music, like the lute of young Apollo,
Vibrates even now within mine ear;
Soft and silver voices bid me follow,
Yet my soul is dull and will not hear.
Waking it will stay:
Let me watch till day--
Fainter will they come, and disappear."

IV.

"Speak not thus to me, my own--my dearest!
These are but the phantoms of thy brain;
Nothing can befall thee which thou fearest,
Thou shalt wake to love and life again.
Were this sleep th