I will insure the White-Hoods, and the rest
Will eagerly accept thy nomination,
So to be rid of some that they like less.
Thy name is honored both of rich and poor;
For all are mindful of the glorious rule

Thy father bore, when Flanders, prosperous then,
From end to end obeyed him as one town.

Art. They may remember it; and, Van den Bosch,
May I not, too, bethink me of the end

To which this People brought my noble father?
They gorged the fruits of his good husbandry,
Till, drunk with long prosperity, and blind
With too much fatness, they tore up the root

From which their common weal had sprung and flourished.
Van den B. Nay, Master Philip, let the past be past.
Art. Here, on the doorstead of my father's house,

The blood of his they spilt is seen no more.
But when I was a child I saw it there;
For so long as my widow-mother lived
Water came never near the sanguine stain.
She loved to show it me; and then, with awe,
But hoarding still the purpose of revenge,
I heard the tale; which, like a daily prayer
Repeated, to a rooted feeling grew,

How long he fought; how falsely came like friends
The villains Guisebert Grutt and Simon Bette;
All the base murder of the one by many!
Even such a brutal multitude as they

Who slew my father; yea, who slew their own

(For like one had he ruled the parricides),

Even such a multitude thou 'dst have me govern.

Van den B. Why, what if Jacques Artevelde was killed? He had his reign, and that for many a year,

And a great glory did he gain thereby.

And as for Guisebert Grutt and Simon Bette,
Their breath is in their nostrils as was his.

If you be as stout-hearted as your father,

And mindful of the villanous trick they played him,
Their hour of reckoning is well-nigh come.

Of that, and of this base, false-hearted league

They 're making with the earl, these two to us
Shall give account.

Art. They cannot render back

The golden bowl that 's broken at the fountain,
Or mend the wheel that 's broken at the cistern,
Or twist again the silver cord that 's loosed.
Yea, life for life, vile bankrupts as they are,-

Their worthless lives, for his of countless price,
Is their whole wherewithal to pay their debt.
Yet, retribution is a goodly thing,

And it were well to wring the payment from them
Even to the utmost drop of their heart's blood!

Van den B. Then will I call the People to the square,

And speak for your election.

Art. Not so fast.

Your vessel, Van den Bosch, hath felt the storm :
She rolls dismasted in an ugly swell,

And you would make a jury-mast of me,

Whereon to spread the tatters of your canvas.
And what am I? Why, I am as the oak
Which stood apart, far down the vale of life,
Growing retired, beneath a quiet sky.

Wherefore should this be added to the wreck ?

Van den B. I pray you, speak it in the Burgher's tongue;

I lack the scholarship to talk in tropes.

Art. The question, to be plain, is briefly this:

Shall I, who, chary of tranquillity,

Not busy in this factious city's broils,

Nor frequent in the market-place, eschewed

The even battle, shall I join the rout?

Van den B. Times are sore changed, I see; there's none in Ghent

That answers to the name of Artevelde.

Thy father did not carp nor question thus,

When Ghent invoked his aid. The days have been

When not a citizen drew breath in Ghent

But freely would have died in Freedom's cause.

Art. The cause, I grant thee, Van den Bosch, is good;

And, were I linked to earth no otherwise

But that my whole heart centred in myself,

I could have tossed you this poor life to play with,

Taking no second thought. But as things are,

I will revolve the matter warily,

And send thee word betimes of my conclusion.

Van den B. Betimes it must be, for the White-Hood chiefs Meet two hours hence; and ere we separate

Our course must be determined.

Art. In two hours,

If I be for you, I will send this ring

In token I have so resolved.

Farewell!

Van den B. Philip Van Artevelde, a greater man Than ever Ghent beheld, we 'll make of thee,

If thou be bold enough to try this venture.

God give thee heart to do so! Fare thee well!

[Exit Van den Bosch.]

Art. [after a long pause]. Is it vain glory that thus whispers me, That 't is ignoble to have led my life

In idle meditations? that the times

Demand me, that they call my father's name?
O, what a fiery heart was his! such souls,
Whose sudden visitations daze the world,
Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind
A voice that in the distance far away
Wakens the slumbering ages. O, my father!
Thy life is eloquent, and more persuades
Unto dominion than thy death deters!

42. THE WEATHERCOCK.-J. T. Allingham.

Old Fickle. What reputation, what honor, what profit, can accrue to you from such conduct as yours? One moment you tell me you are going to become the greatest musician in the world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers.

Tristram Fickle. I am clear out of that scrape now, Sir.

Old F. Then, from a fiddler, you are metamorphosed into a philosopher; and, for the noise of drums, trumpets and hautboys, you substitute a vile jargon, more unintelligible than was ever heard at the tower of Babel.

Tri. You are right, Sir. I have found out that philosophy is folly; so I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato and Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date.

Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper, the other day, for barrelling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live like Diogenes? Tri. You should not have paid him anything, Sir; for the tub I would not hold. You see the contents are run out.

Old F. No jesting, Sir! this is no laughing matter. Your follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken the whole round of arts and sciences in a month, and have been of fifty different minds in half an hour.

Tri. And, by that, shown the versatility of my genius.

Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, Sir! Let me see a little steadiness. You have never yet been constant to anything but extravagance.

Tri. Yes, Sir,- one thing more.

Old F. What is that, Sir?

Tri. Affection for you. However my head may have wandered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the kindest of parents; and, from this moment, I am resolved to lay my follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which will be most pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends.

Old F. Well said, my boy, well said! You make me happy, indeed! [Patting him on the shoulder.] Now, then, my dear Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do.

Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession.
Old F. No!

Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed.

Old F. Better and better! I am overjoyed. Why, 't is the very thing I wished. Now I am happy!

[Tristram makes gestures as

if speaking.] See how his mind is engaged!

Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury

Old F. Why, Tristram !

Tri. This is a cause

Old F. O, my dear boy! I forgive you all your tricks. I see something about you now that I can depend on. [Tristram continues making gestures.]

Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause

Old F. Bravo! bravo! Excellent boy! I'll go and order your books, directly!

Tri. T is done, Sir.

Old F. What, already!

Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books, when I first thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law.

Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot?

Tri. By the foot, Sir; that is the only way to become a solid lawyer.

Old F. Twelve square feet of learning!

Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber

Well

Old F. A barber! What, is he to teach you to shave close?
Tri. He is to shave one-half of my head, Sir.

Old F. You will excuse me if I cannot perfectly understand what that has to do with the study of the law.

Tri. Did you never hear of Demosthenes, Sir, the Athenian orator? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up in a coalcellar.

Old F. Ah, he was perfectly right to lock himself up, after having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly would have made rather an odd figure abroad.

Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism of his countrymen, lightning in his eye, and thunder in his voice; he pours forth a torrent of eloquence, resistless in its force; the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks; he denounces, and indignation fills the bosom of his hearers; he exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impending ruin; he threatens the tyrant, they grasp their swords; he calls for vengeance, - their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, and thousands reverberate the cry! One soul animates a nation, and that soul is the soul of the orator!

Old F. O, what a figure he will make on the King's Bench! But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you will see how

happily this determination of yours will further it. You have [Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speaking] often heard me speak of my friend Briefwit, the barrister

Tri. Who is against me in this cause
Old F. He is a most learned lawyer

Tri. But, as I have justice on my side

Old F. Zounds! he does n't hear a word I say! Why, Tristram! Tri. I beg your pardon, Sir; I was prosecuting my studies.

Old F. Now, attend

Tri. As my learned friend observes

attention.

Old F. Well, my friend the counsellor

Go on, Sir; I am all

Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, Sir. We gentlemen of the law always

Old F. Well, well,
Tri. A black patch!

my learned friend

Old F. Will you listen, and be silent?

Tri. I am as mute as a judge.

Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward who is very handsome, and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you a charming wife.

Tri. This is an action

Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you to my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness and his gravity— Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant.

Old F. But now you are grown serious and steady, and have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring you together; you will obtain his good opinion, and all the rest follows, of course. Tri. A verdict in my favor.

Old F. You marry and sit down, happy for life,

Tri. In the King's Bench.

- run

Old F. Bravo! Ha, ha, ha! But now run to your study to your study, my dear Tristram, and I'll go and call upon the counsellor.

Tri. I remove by habeas corpus.

Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. [Hurrying him off.]

[Exit.]

Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury, this is a cause Old F. The inimitable boy! I am now the happiest father living. What genius he has! He'll be lord chancellor, one day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he has talents! O, how I long to see him

at the bar!

43. SALADIN, MALEK ADHEL, ATTENDANT.-New Monthly Magazine.

Attendant. A stranger craves admittance to your highness.
Saladin. Whence comes he?

Atten. That I know not.