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THE RIVAL POPES.
“ A. D. 1324, the two contending Popes, John and Nicholas, held separate councils. John and his Bishops, at Arignon, anathematized Nicholas the Fifth as a heretic, because he held that our Lord did not possess property. Nicholas, on the other hand, cursed John as a heretic for affirming that Christ did possess property.-Baxter's Church History, p. 425."
In days of yore two popes, as records say,
A LEAF FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF VOLTAIRE,
There lived, some time gone by, in modern France
Whose sunny clime the human bosom warms;
A youthful dame of most transcendent charms,
To have her husband wrested from her arms
Who can describe her grief; it passed all thought!
Handsome, and young, and wedded scarce ten days ;
To love, and please, and humour all her ways ;
A phaeton for her, drawn by two smart bays.
Oft would she sit, and o'er his portrait dream
For hours together heaving heavy sighs ;
Rending the very heavens with her cries,
As dead ; saving, that from her half-closed eyes,
And sometimes by the full moon's silver light,
She'd wander on the banks of the Garonne ;
Had fondly wandered, hand in hand alone,
And sometimes she would stand and gaze upon
It chanced that a philosopher lived near,
Whom for the present, Timon we shall name ;
And wished, to others that he were the same.
You'll scarcely find him on the lists of fame-
But he was good and kind—and that is much !
And thought it was his duty, as a sage,
Could be discovered in the books, to 'suage
(For he was lame) and sought her house. A page,
“ Perhaps you do not recollect the story
Of Mary, the unhappy Scottish queen ?
Handsome and rich, and liberal too, I ween.
Believe, than twelve months-at the most fifteen,
Such an explosion! ne'er was heard a louder!”
The lady owned that it was very sad,
But her own husband's loss it was she wept ; “She had a lover, an Italian lad,
famed musician, whom she near her kept, From morn to night, through good report and bad.
One evening some disguised assassins slipped Into the room where he sat with her Grace, And butchered him before her very face !"
The lady wept, but for her husband still.
“ Her kingdom once she was obliged to fly, Her people said that she had governed ill;
And though she did by no means wish to die, They threatened, if they caught her, they would kill.
On England's queen she thought she could rely,
The lady's burning tears still flowed amain,
But 'twas not for poor Mary that she cried. Though all the queens in Europe had been slain,
Would that have brought her husband to her side ? Could that recall the dead to life again,
Or give her lover to the sorrowing bride ? The sage perceived that “ Mary” would not do, And so he thought he'd try another clew.
“ There was a Persian princess once, who brought
A favoured lover into her boudoir : Her father entered unawares, and sought
To slay the youth ; but he seized up a bar Of iron that lay near, with which he fought
Until the father fell—a ghastly scar Upon his brow. The princess swooned for fear; The youth was taken up by the Vizier,
“ And hanged next day before her very face.
She died for grief! You've never been at Nice ? No matter ! 'tis a very pretty place,
And once contained a beauty named Berbice, Who had a charming husband named Alsace
A very handsome man, who came from Greece. These two went out one evening after tea, To take a sail upon the calm blue sea.
“ The moon—the rich Italian moon-shone bright,
Tinging the landscape with her mellow beams. The wakened waters caught the silver light,
And threw it back in broken fitful gleams. They sat and gazed upon the silent night,
And hand in hand indulged in soothing dreams Of love. Row gently, gently, gondolier, The slightest sound is grating to the ear.
“ And soon the barrier of the bay was passed,
And o'er the bosom of the deep they glide. The distant white-walled town receded fast,
When a tall ship they suddenly descriedA sable pennant streaming at her mast.
• Lie to your oars, my men !' Alsatio cried ; • 'Tis the black corsair! speed, make for the shore ! A flash was seen, a bullet whistled o'er
“ Their heads. The gondoliers refused to row,
Sitting in terror motionless and still ;
But steady course upon her prey, until
The corsair crew leap down in haste, and fill
“ Onward the corsair sailed o'er silent seas,
And passed by moonlight Malta's ancient towers, And skirted round the lovely Chersonese,
Catching the perfume of its olive bowers, Whose fragrance filled the gentle summer breeze.
And then they came to Athens, where the Giaours Made some additions to their human cargo, Heedless, alike, of firman and embargo.
“ And onward still, they sailed both night and day ;
And floated o'er the Hellespont's rude waves, And coasted up the sea of Marmora,
And reached the rapid Bosphorus, which laves The Turkish shore, and anchored in the bay
Of the famed Porte—the noted mart of slaves.The cargo here were driven in a string
Up to the town, and sold for what they'd bring.
“ The Sultan's eunuch purchased poor Berbice,
And led her off to the seraglio straight.
'Twas being destined to so dire a fate!
Her tears, or her deep, dismal sighs, abate ; Although-and few dare contradict his fiatThe Sultan frowned and told her to be quiet.
“ But still she sighed and wept, and wept and sighed,
Till his sublimity got in a passion,
Into a sack-such is the Eastern fashion-
The two black demons showed her no compassion, But sewed her up, and threw her with a splash. In where the Bosphorean waters dash.
“I will not talk to you of Eloise,
Or of her love for Abelard the sage ;
To poor Jane Gray, who, at the tender age
The lady cried—“my grief you'll ne'er assuage ;It lies too deeply rooted at the core Of my sad heart—I'll ne'er know gladness more.