A year before. It is not to be question'd

Th't they had gather'd a wise council to them

Of every realm, th't did debate this business,

Who deem'd our marriage-lawful. Wherefore-I humbly Beseech you, sir,—to spare me, till I may

Be-by my friends—(in Spain)-advis'd; whose counsel

I will implore; if not, i' the name of God,

Your pleasure-be fulfilled!

Wolsey.

You have here, (lady,)

(And-of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men—

Of singular-integrity-and learning,

Yea, the elect-of the land, who are assembled

To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless,
Th't longer-you desire the court; as well-

For your own quiet as to rectify

What is unsettled-in the king.

Campeius.⚫

His grace

Hath spoken well,-and justly: therefore, (madam,)—
It's fit-this royal session-do proceed;

And th't, (without delay,) their arguments—

Be now produced-and heard.

Queen.

To you I speak.

Wolsey.

Queen.

Lord cardinal,

Your pleasure,—madam?

I am about to weep; but, thinking th't

Sir,

We are a queen, (or long-have dream'd so,) certain
The daughter of a king,—my drops-of tears—

I'll turn-to sparks—of fire.

Wolsey.

Be patient-yet.

Queen. I will, when you are humble; nay,—before, Or God-will punish me. I do believe,

(Induced by potent circumstances,) that

You are mine enemy; and make my challenge

You shall not be my judge: for it is you-
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord-and me,

(Which God's dew-quench!) Therefore I say again,

I utterly-abhor,-yea, from my soul—

Refuse you-for my judge: whom, yet-(once more,)—
I hold my most malicious foe,—and think not-
(At all)—a friend to truth.

Wolsey.

I do profess,

You speak not-like yourself; who ever—yet—

Have stood to charity,—and display'd the effects

Of disposition gentle,-and of wisdom

O'ertopping-woman's power. Madam,—you do me wrong:

I have no spleen-against you; nor injustice—

For you, or any: how far I have proceeded,
Or-how far-further shall, is warranted—

By a commission-from the consistory,

Yea, the whole consistory-of Rome. You charge me—
Th't I have blown this coal: I do deny it:

The king-is present: if it be known to him-
Th't I gainsay my deed,-how may he wound,—
(And worthily,) my falsehood? yea, as much-
As you have done my truth. If he know-
Th't I am free-of your report, he knows
I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him
It lies-to cure me: and the cure is,-to

Remove these thoughts from you: the which-bofore
His highness-shall speak in, I do beseech

You, (gracious madam)—to unthink—your speaking,—
And to say so—no more.

Queen.

My lord, my lord,—

I am a simple woman,-much-too weak

To oppose your cunning. You're meek—and humble-mouthed;
You sign your place—and calling-(in full seeming)
With meekness—and humility: but your heart-
Is cramm'd with arrogancy,-spleen, and pride.
You have, (by fortune—and his highness' favors,)—
Gone slightly-o'er low steps; and now-are mounted
Where powers-are your retainers; and your words,-
(Domestics to you,) serve your will—as 't please
Yourself-pronounce their office. I must tell you,-
You tender more-your person's honor than
Your high profession spiritual; th't again—
I do refuse you-for my judge; and here,
(Before you all,) appeal-unto the pope,
To bring my whole cause-'fore his holiness,
And to be judg'd-by him.

Cam.

[She courtesies to the King, and offers to depart.
The queen-is obstinate,

Stubborn to justice,-apt-to accuse it, and

Disdainful to be tried by it; 't is not well.

She's going away.

King.

Call her again.

Crier. Katharine,—(queen of England,)-come into the court. Grif. Madam-you are call'd back.

Queen. What need you-note it? pray you, keep your way:

When you are call'd return. Now-the Lord help;

They vex me-past my patience! Pray you,―pass on :—

I will not tarry: no, nor ever—more—

(Upon this business)-my appearance make In any of their courts.

[Exeunt Queen, Griffith, etc. King. Go thy ways,-Kate: That man-i' the world who shall report he has A better wife,-let him-in nought-be trusted, For speaking false-in that. Thou art, alone,

If thy rare qualities,-sweet gentleness,—

Thy meekness-saint-like,-wife-like government,—
Obeying in commanding,—and thy parts-

(Sovereign-and pious-else,)-could speak thee out,
The QUEEN-of earthly queens. She's noble-born;

And, (like her true nobility,) she has

Carried herself toward me.

XXXII. THE ARAB'S FAREWELL TO HIS STEED. MRS. NORTON.

My beautiful! my beautiful!

That standest meekly by,

With thy proudly-arched-and glossy neck,

Thy dark-and fiery eye,—

Fret not-to roam the desert—now,

With all thy wingéd speed;

I may not mount on thee-again:
Thou 'rt sold,-my Arab steed!
Fret not-with that impatient hoof;
Snuff not-the breezy wind;
The farther th't thou fliest-now,
So far-am I-behind.

The stranger-hath thy bridle-rein,
Thy master-hath his gold:
Fleet-limbed and beautiful—farewell!
Thou'rt sold, (my steed,) thou 'rt sold!
Farewell! those free-untired limbs
Full many a mile-must roam,
To reach the chill-and wintry sky,
Which clouds-the stranger's home:
Some other hand,-less fond, must now
Thy corn-and bread-prepare;
Thy silky mane-I braided-once
Must be another's care.

The morning sun-shall dawn again;
But never-more with thee

Shall I gallop-through the desert paths,
Where we were wont to be.

Evening shall darken-on the earth,

And o'er the sandy plain

Some other steed, with slower step,

Shall bear me home again.

Yes, thou must ga! the wild-free breeze,·

The brilliant sun and sky,

Thy master's house,-from all of these

My exiled one-must fly.

Thy proud-dark eye-will grow less proud,

Thy step-become less fleet,

And vainly-shalt thou arch thy neck

Thy master's hand-to meet.

Then must I, (starting,) wake—to feel-
Thou 'rt sold,-my Arab steed!

Ah, rudely then, unseen by me,
Some cruel hand-may chide

Till foam-wreaths lie, (like crested waves,)
Along thy panting side;

And the rich blood th't's in thee swells

In the indignant pain,

Till careless eyes (which rest on thee)
May count-each starting vein.

Will they ill use thee? If I thought—-
But no, it can not be,—

Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed,

So gentle, yet so free.

And yet if haply, when thou'rt gone,

My lonely heart-should yearn,
Can the same hand which casts thee off
Command thee-to return?

Return? Alas! my Arab steed,

What shall thy master do

When thou, (who wert his all of joy,)
Hast vanished-from his view?
Where the dim distance-cheats mine eye,
And (through the gathering tears)
Thy bright form (for a moment) like
The false mirage-appears.

Slow and unmounted-will I roam,
With weary foot alone,

Where, (with fleet step-and joyous bound,)
Thou oft-hast borne me on;

And, (sitting down-by that green well,)
Will pause and sadly think,

'Twas here he bowed-his glossy neck
When last-I saw him drink.

When last-I saw him—drink! Away?
The fevered dream—is o'er;

I could not live a day-and know-
That we should meet-no more.
They tempted me,-my beautiful!
For hunger's power-is strong;
They tempted me,-my beautiful!
But I have loved-too long.

Who said th❜t I had given thee up
Who said-th't thou wert sold?
'Tis false ! 't is false my Arab steed!
I fling them back—their gold.
Thus,-THUS-I leap-upon thy back,
And scour the distant plains:
Away! who-overtakes us-now

Shall claim thee-for his pains!

XXXIII.-SONG OF THE WORLD-MONEY-MAKING. MASSEY.

Coining the heart, brain, and sinew (to gold,)
Till we sink-(in the dark) on the pauper's dole,
Feeling-(for ever)-the flowerless mold
Growing-about the uncrowned soul !

O God! O God! must this-(evermore)—bo
The lot of the children of poverty?

The spring is calling from brae-and bower,
In the twinkling sheen-of the sunny hour,
Earth smiles-in her golden-green;
Glad-as the bird-in tree-top-chanting
Its anthem of liberty!

With its heart-in its musical gratitude panting,
And oh, 't is a bliss-to be!

Once more to drink in-the life-breathing air,
Lapt-in luxurious flowers-

To recall again-the pleasures-that were

In infancy's-innocent hours,

To wash the earth-stains-and the dust-from my soul

In nature's reviving tears once more;

To feast at her banquet,—and drink-from her bowl-
Rich dew-for the heart's hot core.

Ah me! ah me! it is heavenly—then,

And hints of the spirit-world,-(near-alway,)

Are stirring and stirred at my heart again,

Like leaves-to the kiss-of May:

It is but a dream,-yet-'t is passing sweet,

And when-(from its spells)-my spirit-is waking,
Dark-as my heart, and the wild tears start;

For I was not made-(merely)—for money-making.

My soul-leaneth out-to the whisperings

Of the mighty,—the marvelous spirits of old;
And heaven-ward soareth-to strengthen her wings,
When labor-relapseth-its earthly hold;
And-(breathless-with awfullest beauty)—it listens-
To catch the night's-deep,-starry mystery;
Or in mine eyes, (dissolved,) glistens

Big-for the moan—of humanity.