With all his little might Verbosus tries
To look emphatic, dignified, and wise,
As if his gravity with nature strove,
The face of Momus with the air of Jove;
That face a cushion on which sorrow ne'er
Sate long enough to leave one wrinkle there.
His nose so comic mocks his mouth so prim,
And, though he will not laugh, we laugh at him.
Say, who shall bound his intellectual power,
Who makes some vast discovery every hour?
He bustles up, his wisdom's egg to lay,
As if afraid to drop it by the way.

Ye Humes, ye Gibbons, hide abash'd your eyes,
Verbosus says "Queen Bess was mighty wise!"
Look at Aurelia! you at once declare
That nature meant her for a grenadier.
Strength is her dow'ry, health her luckless fate,
But 'tis her passion to be delicate.

Pearl-powder dims her cheek's unvaried hue,
Yet still the stubborn peony shines through.
Her voice, that might an army's march command,
Is softly practised into whispers bland.

From that huge mouth it seems the bird of Nile,
That warbles from the jaws of crocodile.
On her two daughters leans the sturdy dame,
An arm of each upholds her giant frame;
Then to a couch by slow degrees she halts,
And sinking, gasps, "Thanks, darlings! Now my salts!"

SECTION CV.

GALILEO-A MONK, IN THE INQUISITION.....Blackwood's Magazine.

Galileo. So you are come to close the shutters of my window before nightfall. Surely these bars are strong enough. I would fain have the consolation of viewing the heavens after it is dark. My sleep is unquiet and short, for want of exercise; and when I lie awake, the roof of my prison presents nothing but a sable blank. Do not, I beseech you, conceal from me the blue vault, and those hosts of light, upon which I still love to gaze in spite of all my troubles.

Y

Monk. You must not see the stars.

It is the stars which have put you wrong. Poor man! to think the earth was turning round.

Gali. Alas! alas! Is it for this that I have studied? Monk. Do you suppose, that if the earth had been turning all this while, the sea would not have drowned every living soul? I put this to you, as a simple question, and level with the most ordinary capacity.

Gali. My good friend, you know that I have recanted these things, and therefore it is needless for me to dispute farther upon the subject.

Monk. Your books were burnt at Rome, which, in my opinion, was an idle business. In a few years they would have turned to smoke of their own accord. 'Tis the way with all new discoveries, for I am an old christian, and have seen the fashion of the world before now.

Gali. Do you suppose that glass windows were used in the time of Adam?

Monk. No; for the scripture mentions no such thing. But what then?

Gali. Why then, you must admit that time teaches things which were unknown before.

Monk. That is possible enough. But now things are different; for my head is gray, and I have no faith in new discoveries.

Gali. We know not what time may bring about. Perhaps the earth may yet be weighed.

Monk. Go on-you shall receive no interruption from me. You perceive that I only smile gently and good-naturedly when you talk in this manner.

Gali. What is the matter? what makes you look so wise ?

Monk. Never mind. Go on.

Gali. What is the meaning of this extraordinary look of tenderness and benignity, which you are attempting to throw into your features.

Monk. When I consider what is your real condition, it moves my pity. For my part, when the cardinals made so much ado about your writings, I always thought they were trifling with their office.

Gali. I wish you would convince them of that; for all I desire is, to have the privilege of looking through my telescopes, and to live quietly without doing harm to any man. I pray you, allow the window to remain open; for darkness is gathering, and Jupiter already blazes yonder through

the twilight. So pure a sky!—and to be debarred from my optical contrivances.

Monk. Study the scriptures, and you will have no need of optical contrivances.

Gali.

I am well acquainted with the scriptures; but as I do not suppose they were meant to instruct mankind in astronomy, I think there is no sacrilege in attempting to discover more of the nature of the universe than what is revealed in them.

Monk. So you believe yourself capable of succeeding in the attempt?

Gali. Perhaps I do.

Monk. Do not allow yourself to be led away by the idle suggestions of self-conceit. What is there to be seen about you, which should enable you to penetrate farther into the secrets of the universe than me or the rest of mankind? I do not ask this question with a view to wound your pride, but with a sincere wish for your good.

Gali. Upon my word, you are too kind to me. Pray, where do you suppose the habitations of good men to be? Monk. Why, in heaven, to be sure.

Gali. Is it not possible that their abode may be situated in some of the constellations? When gazing, as I was wont to do, at midnight, upon Arcturus, or the brilliant orbs of Orion, I have sometimes thought, that in the blue depths there might exist worlds suitable for the habitation of an immortal spirit.

Monk. Beware of futile conjectures! You know not upon what ground you are treading.

Gali. Does not the galaxy shed forth a glorious light? How gorgeous is its throng of constellations !-To me it seems like a procession of innumerable worlds, passing in review before our Creator.

Monk. If the galaxy moves, why may not the sun?

Gali. My judgment is, that they may both move, for aught I know, although at a very slow pace.

Monk. Now you speak sense. I knew I should bring you round; for to say the truth, (and I say it between you and me,) if it had not been for my enemies, whom Heaven pardon, I should have been wearing a red hat before now. Good night and I shall immediately bring a book, which will help to put your thoughts in a proper train again.

SECTION CVI.

HENRY IV.-SIR ARNOLD SAVAGE..... W. S. Landor.

Savage. I OBEY the commands of my liege.

Henry. 'Tis well thou appearest more civil and courteous, Sir Arnold Savage, than this morning in another place, when thou declaredst unto me, as speaker of the Commons, that no subsidy should be granted me until every cause of public grievance was removed.

Sav. I am now in the house of the greatest man upon earth; I was then in the house of the greatest nation.

Hen. Marry! thou speakest rightly upon both points; but the latter, I declare unto thee, pleaseth me most. And now, Savage, I do tell thee with like frankness, I had wellnigh sent a score of halberts among your worshipful knights and sleek wool-staplers, for I was sore chafed, and if another had dealt with me in such wise, I should have straightway followed mine inclination. Thou knowest that I am greatly let and hindered in my projected wars, by such obstinacy and undutifulness in my people. I raised up the House of Commons four years ago, and placed it in opposition to my barons, with trust and confidence that, by the blessing of Christ and his saints, I might be less hampered in my complete conquest of France. This is monstrous : Parliament speaks too plainly and steps too stoutly for a creature of four years' growth.

Sav. God forbid that any king of England should achieve the conquest of all France. Patience, my liege and lord! Our Norman ancestors, the most warlike people upon whose manners the morning sun ever lighted, have wrested the sceptre from her swaddling kings, and pushing them back on their cushions and cupboards, have been contented with the seizure of their best and largest province. The possession of more serfs would have tempted them to sit down in idleness, and no piece of unbroken turf would have been left for the playground of their children in arms. William the Conqueror, the most puissant of knights and the wisest of statesmen, thought fit to open a new career, lest the pride of his chivalry should be troublesome to him at home. He led them forth against the brave and good Harold, whose armies had bled profusely, in their wars against the Scot. Pity that such blood as the Saxon should ever have been spilt! but hence are the

titledeeds to our lands and tenements, the perpetuity of and dominion.

our power

Hen. To preserve them from jeopardy, I must have silver in store; I must have horses and armour, and wherewith to satisfy the cravings of the soldier, always sharp, and sharpest of all after fighting.

Sav. My liege must also have other things, which escaped his recollection.

Hen. Stores of hides, and of the creatures that were within them. Divers other commodities must be procured from the ruler of the Adriatic, from him who never was infant nor stripling, whom God took by the right hand, and taught to walk by himself the first hour. Moreover, I must have instruments of mine own device, weighty, and exceeding costly; such as machinery for beating down walls. Nothing of these hath escaped my knowledge or memory, but the recital of some befits a butler, or sutler, or armorer, better than a king.

Sav. And yet methinks, sir, there are others, which you might have mentioned and have not, the recital of which would befit a king, rather than sutler, butler, or armourer they are indeed the very best and most necessary things in the world, to batter down your enemy's walls with.

Hen. What may they be? you must find them.

Sav. You have found them, and must keep them.... they are the hearts of your subjects. Your horse will not gallop far without them, though you empty into his manger all the garners of Surrey. Wars are requisite, to diminish the power of your Barons, by keeping them long and widely separate from the main body of retainers, and under the ken of a stern and steady prince, watching their movements, curbing their discourses, and inuring them to regular and sharp discipline. In general they are the worthless, exalted by the weak, and dangerous from wealth ill acquired, and worse expended. The whole people is a good king's household, quiet and orderly when well treated, and ever in readiness to defend him against the malice of the disappointed, the perfidy of the ungrateful, and the usurpation of the familiar. Act in such guise, most glorious Henry, that the king may say my people, and the people say our king; I then will promise you more, passing any computation, than I refused you this morning; the enjoyment of a blessing, to which the conquest of France in comparison is