pleasantly situated, adjoining to which are several palaces, belonging
to members of the imperial family. But the most remarkable and
interesting monument is the mosque or tomb of Eyub, (a disciple of
Mahomet, who was killed in the first siege of Constantinople, in 608,)
erected by Mahomet II. after the capture of the city, as is said, in
consequence of the place of his sepulchre having been revealed to one of
his favourites in a dream; he immediately ordered an excavation to be
made, and very soon, either by hazard or imposture, a marble slab was
discovered.

The Valley of the Sweet Waters, Eyub, and the country immediately behind
the walls, may be considered the only pretty spots near Constantinople;
for beyond them, and in other directions, nothing is to be seen but an
expansion of unpopulated, and, at this time, sunburnt downs.

_Jones's Travels_.

* * * * *

THE CORAL ISLAND.

On a stony eminence, that stood
Girt with inferior ridges, at the point,
Where light and darkness meet in spectral gloom.
Midway between the height and depth of ocean,
I mark'd a whirlpool in perpetual play,
As though the mountain were itself alive,
And catching prey on every side, with feelers
Countless as sunbeams, slight as gossamer:
Ere long transfigured, each fine film became
An independent creature, self-employd,
Yet but an agent in one common work,
The slim of all their individual labours.
Shap'less they seem'd, but endless shape assumed;
Elongated like worms, they writhed and shrunk
Their tortuous bodies to grotesque dimensions;
Compress'd like wedges, radiated like stars,
Branching like sea-weed, whirl'd in dazzling rings;
Subtle and variable as flickering flames,
Sight could not trace their evanescent changes,
Nor comprehend their motions, till minute
And curious observation caught the clew
To this live labyrinth,--where every one,
By instinct taught, perform'd its little task;
--To build its dwelling and its sepulchre,
From its own essence exquisitely modell'd;
There breed, and die, and leave a progeny,
Still multiplied beyond the reach of numbers.
To frame new cells and tombs; then breed and die,
As all their ancestors had done,--and rest,
Hermetically sealed, each in its shrine,
A statue in this temple of oblivion!
Millions of millions thus, from age to age,
With simplest skill, and toil unwearyable.
No moment