THE RIVAL POPES. AN EPIGRAM. John and "A. D. 1324, the two contending Popes, John and Nicholas, held separate councils. his Bishops, at Avignon, 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." BELFAST. In days of yore two popes, as records say, Pope Nicholas, at Rome, denounced Pope John, J. S. CONSOLATION. A LEAF FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF VOLTAIRE. There lived, some time gone by, in modern France- To have her husband wrested from her arms Who can describe her grief; it passed all thought! To love, and please, and humour all her ways; Oft would she sit, and o'er his portrait dream Till she sank down exhausted, and did seem As dead; saving, that from her half-closed eyes, VOL. IV. Lady," he said, "youv'e lost a loving lord"— "A worthy man-'gainst whom no evil word Perhaps you do not recollect the story N 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, A famed musician, whom she near her kept, From morn to night, through good report and badé 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. And though she did by no means wish to die, The lady's burning tears still flowed amain, Or give her lover to the sorrowing bride? The sage perceived that " Mary" would not do, "The story of Maria Antoinette Is better known. She was a loving wife, And had a loving lord, and lovely set Of juveniles. But there grew up a strife Him not escape, but took away his life. "'Twas a sad case, indeed,” the lady said ; But still her husband caused her tears to flow. "I will not talk to you of Orleans' maid; No woman ever was more foully so! "The tale of Cleopatra is most sad! She loved a Roman, Antony by name, The noblest general that ever had Added fresh laurels to the Latin fame. "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 AlsaceA 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, "And soon the barrier of the bay was passed, 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, 66 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 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, But this was not the worst ;-she would not cease "But still she sighed and wept, and wept and sighed, Till his sublimity got in a passion, And ordered two black mutes to have her tied Into a sack-such is the Eastern fashion And thrown headlong in the angry tide. 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; But turn your thoughts a moment, if you please, "Cease, O cease!" 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. |