e, the port of intrepidity,
the step of modest firmness, a squalid paleness sits upon thy face, a
bloated corpulency enfeebles thy limbs, and presents a picture of human
nature in its most abject state. But hark! the trumpet sounds; a savage
band of unrelenting enemies has surrounded the city, and are preparing
to scatter flames and ruin through the whole! The virtuous youth, that
have been educated to nobler cares, arm with generous emulation, and fly
to its defence. How lovely do they appear, dressed in resplendent arms,
and moving slowly on in close impenetrable phalanx! They are animated by
every motive which can give energy to a human breast, and lift it up to
the sublimest achievements. Their hoary sires, their venerable
magistrates, the beauteous forms of trembling virgins, attend them to
the war, with prayers and acclamations. Go forth, ye generous bands,
secure to meet the rewards of victory or the repose of honourable death!
Go forth, ye generous bands, but unaccompanied by the wretch I have
described! His feeble arm refuses to bear the ponderous shield; the
pointed spear sinks feebly from his grasp; he trembles at the noise and
tumult of the war, and flies like the hunted hart to lurk in shades and
darkness. Behold him roused from his midnight orgies, reeking with wine
and odours, and crowned with flowers, the only trophies of his warfare;
he hurries with trembling steps across the city; his voice, his gait,
his whole deportment, proclaim the abject slave of intemperance, and
stamp indelible infamy upon his name.'

"While Xenocrates was thus discoursing, Polemo listened with fixed
attention. The former animation of his countenance gave way to a visible
dejection; presently his lips trembled and his cheeks grew pale; he was
lost in melancholy recollection, and a silent tear was observed to
trickle down. But when the philosopher described a character so like his
own, shame seemed to take entire possession of his soul; and, rousing as
from a long and painful lethargy, he softly raised his hand to his head,
and tore away the chaplets of flowers, the monuments of his effeminacy
and disgrace; he seemed intent to compose his dress into a more decent
form, and wrapped his robe about him, which before hung loosely waving
with an air of studied effeminacy. But when Xenocrates had finished his
discourse, Polemo approached him with all the humility of conscious
guilt, and begged to become his disciple, telling him that he