e serious, anxious face, who was more than
twice her age when he became her husband?

The statues of Antinous fully realise Keats's ideal of Endymion.

"His youth was fully blown
Shining like Ganymede to manhood grown,
A smile was on his countenance; he seemed
To common lookers-on like one who dreamed
Of idleness in groves Elysian
But there were some who feelingly could scan
A lurking trouble in his nether lip.
Then would they sigh, 'Ah! well-a-day
Why should our young Endymion pine away?'"

We know not on what authority Ebers links the name of Antinous,
Endymion-like, with that of Selene. Was there some missive sealed by a
moon-beam torch, or addressed to the lady moon which went astray and set
the gossip of the Court crackling like a flame in dry grass? Or was it
merely his aspiration for the throne of the Caesars which was signified
by the common expression, "he longed for the moon," and not a love
hopeless, but beyond his power to conquer for the unattainable Selene,
which saddened his young life so deeply, and determined him to throw it
away when the occasion seemed to demand the sacrifice.

Both research and fancy will lead you far, for it was in Egypt that the
most dramatic part of the story was enacted, and that Antinous,
believing that in so doing he saved Hadrian's life, launched forth upon
the Nile during a terrific tempest, and standing erect in the unguided
canoe sought a voluntary death in the storm-lashed waters.

The Emperor's grief was wildly extravagant. He gave the beautiful body a
king's burial in a tomb flanked by obelisks and guarded by a sphinx; and
he built about it a magnificent city which he called Antinopolis, a city
which exists to this day though no man lives within its desolate
columned streets.

But the deserted city has been identified in the ruins called by the
Egyptians, Antinoe. Its hippodrome, and theatres, and temple tomb have
all been mapped by archaeologists, and its Arch of Triumph, of Roman
bricks faced with white marble, its long colonnades of Corinthian
columns, and its melancholy waving palms have been photographed by
troops of unreflecting tourists.

While erecting memorials to his friend, Hadrian was not unmindful of his
own sepulchral monument, the present castle of St. Angelo. It served as
a mausoleum for the imperial family. The ashes of Faustina (to whose
memory her husband erected the beautiful temple bea