and the affrighted king, lifted her hands to heaven, and in the bitterness of her spirit, appealing to the King of kings, besought the God of Heaven to remember her wrongs, to look upon the justice of her cause, and in his own good time to visit those who had so unrighteously brought her and hers to beggary and ruin. It was a fearful malediction from an oppressed and injured woman. While the imprecation yet rung in the ears of the alarmed and astonished king, she rose, took her child by the hand, and with an air of queenly majesty, retired. History would almost lead us to think, as we recall the fate of the infatuated house of Stuart, that her imprecation was heard and answered in heaven.* But poor as she was, she yet felt herself rich in the possession of her captive husband, to whom she hastened, and whose privations she felt it a privilege to share. And now what was to become of him? We have seen that his life had been one of enterprise and activity. Immured within the gloomy walls of the tower, what shall now relieve the wearisome hours of an unusual and unnatural state of quietude? Books--God be thanked for them-books. We have seen that the prisoner had ever been a student. Were no resources then left to him with his wonderful versatility of talent? The oppressor "held his body bound, but knew not what a range his spirit took." He could sit and sing, "My mind to me a kingdom is." And so sweet was the note, that Prince Henry, the heir apparent to the throne, as rich in intellect and virtue as his father was deficient in both, ex

* It is curious to follow the history of Raleigh's persecutors and enemies and mark their respective fates. The Stuarts were hurled from the throne in disgrace. Robert Cecil died the miserable victim of remorse, "pushed," as he said, "from the shore of comfort."

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Cobham," says Osborn, "died in a room, ascended by a ladder, at a poor woman's house in the Minories, formerly his laundress, rather of hunger than of any more natural disease."

Lewis Stukeley, who acted as a spy on him after his return from Guiana, was commonly known as "Sir Judas," and was finally arraigned at the bar of the King's Bench for clipping the gold coin of the realm, and the miserable Frenchman, Manourie, the other spy, fled the kingdom, because he was involved in Stukeley's guilt, acknowledging that he had falsely accused Raleigh, and was therefore overtaken by God's judgment upon him.

Coke lost favor at court, but died rich, after a life of miserable domestic unhappiness.

claimed, "No monarch in christendom but my father would keep such a bird as this in a cage."

With this noble youth, who had qualities that befit a king, Raleigh became an especial favorite. All the collected stores of the wisdom and experience of many years were freely taxed by the poor prisoner for the amusement and instruction of the prince. Henry thirsted after knowledge, and could appreciate (youth though he was) the genius and attainments of Raleigh. He therefore sought his society and learned to love him. Many an hour of confinement in that sad abode passed by on rapid wings, while Raleigh was spreading the exuberant riches of his own well-stored and ever fertile mind before his affectionate and attentive prince.

It was for him that, amid the gloom of a prison, and with but imperfect aids for reference, Raleigh produced that most astonishing work-his History of the World. Well has it been described as "an extraordinary monument of human labor and genius." Vast in subject, profound in learning and research, wise in its reflections, and beautiful in style, it was composed, as has been well said, "not in the luxury of lettered and philosophic ease, surrounded by books and friends, but in imprisonment, solitude and sorrow-not in the enthusiastic consciousness of unimpaired powers, but with a mind which had been harassed by a cruel persecution, and sickened by hope deferred."* But this was not all: various essays, and on various subjects, were written for the prince by Raleigh, and they were not less wise than various. He taught Henry that ships and seamen were to be England's true strength, and instructing him in naval architecture and navigation, the prince had but just commenced build

*There are but few incidents in English literary history more absurdly ludicrous than the pretended "discovery," as he calls it, of the elder D'Israeli, that Sir Walter Raleigh did not write the "History of the World," which appeared under his name. The discoverer" drew upon himself the ridicule and chastisement he deserved. Mr. Napier thus speaks of D'Israeli's pretended discovery : "This piece of secret history, alike revolting and preposterous, was well rebutted by Mr. Tytler; but it has been more recently examined, and with signal chastisement, given to the winds, in small publication, little known, we suspect, though forming one of the most learned and acute contributions to literary history that has appeared in our day." The work alluded to is "Curiosities of Literature, by J. D'Israeli, Esq., Illustrated by Bolton Corney, Esq.”

ing a ship when, at the age of eighteen, he was cut down by death. It was a dreadful blow to Raleigh, for he had learned to love him, and he lost a friend who was determined to persevere until he procured the liberation of the poor captive. But if friends fell, enemies too were gathered in by the mighty reaper, death. The time came for Robert Cecil to go to a world where no tricks of statesmen ever turn the current of justice. Life had become to him a weary load. "Ease and pleasure,” said the dying man, "quake to hear of death; but my life, full of cares and miseries, desireth to be dissolved." Well might he say "full of cares and miseries," and not the least among them was the misery of remorse. He had climbed the ladder of ambition to its very top, and what had he gained by his toilsome labor? One of his own letters, written soon after he had succeeded in convicting poor Raleigh, answers the question. "Rest content," says he, to Sir John Harrington, "and give heed to one that hath sorrowed in the bright lustre of a court, and gone heavily even on the best seeming fair ground. 'Tis a great task to prove one's honesty, and yet not spoil one's fortune. I wish I waited now in your presence-chamber, with ease at my food and rest in my bed. I am pushed from the shore of comfort, and know not where the winds and waves of a court will bear me. I know it bringeth little comfort on earth, and he is, I reckon, no wise man that looketh that way to heaven." And thus went to his last account the great Robert Cecil. His death, doubtless, accelerated the release of Raleigh, but had it been longer delayed, the prisoner's resources would still have made confinement tolerable. It is wonderful to remark the variety and extent of his intellectual pursuits. Fitting up a small building within the walls as a laboratory, he prosecuted his chemical studies, and when tired of his retorts and alembics, he turned with facility to history or politics, or philosophy. Not even his muse was suffered to slumber. Age, indeed, had brought a change of subjects, but age could not kill his imagination. His numbers flowed as sweetly as before, though more solemnly than when he sang of love to Cecil's son. He now invoked the muse for consolation in the dreariness and gloom of a prison. His lyre was tuned to holier music:

'Rise, O my soul, with thy desires to heaven,
And with divinest contemplation use

Thy time, when time's eternity is given,
And let vain thoughts no more thy mind abuse;
But down in darkness let them lie;

So live thy better-let thy worse thoughts die..

"And thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame,
View and review with most regardful eye,
That holy cross, whence thy salvation came,
On which thy Saviour and thy sin did die;
For in that sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that Saviour is my life-my treasure.

"To thee, O Jesus, I direct my eyes,

To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees,

To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice,

To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees,

To thee myself-myself and all I give,

To thee I die-to thee I only live !"

Another of his productions will serve to show how he who had seen the world in every variety of aspect, had learned to estimate its true worth, and, though it may not prove very complimentary to human nature, it will at least serve to show that

"He was a deep observer, and he looked
Quite through the thoughts of men."

The man of candor and experience will probably think that the absence of compliment is less the fault of Raleigh than of human

nature.

"Go, soul! the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand,

Fear not to touch the best,
The truth shall be thy warrant.
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

"Go, tell the Court it glows
And shines like rotten wood—
Go, tell the Church it shows
What's good and doth no good.
If Church and Court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

"Tell potentates they live
Acting by others' actions,
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong, but by their factions.
If potentates reply,

Give potentates the lie.

"Tell men of high condition,

That rule affairs of state,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate.
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.

"Tell zeal it lacks devotion,
Tell love it is but lust,
Tell time it is but motion,
Tell flesh it is but dust.
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

"Tell physic of her boldness,
Tell skill it is pretension,
Tell charity of coldness,

Tell law it is contention.

And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.

"Tell fortune of her blindness,

Tell nature of decay,

Tell friendship of unkindness,

Tell justice of delay.

And if they will reply,

Then give them all the lie."

One more extract, and we will proceed with our story. It consists of the lines found written by Raleigh in his bible:

"E'en such is time, which takes in trust

Our youth, our joys, and all we have!
And pays us naught but age and dust,
Which in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wandered all our ways,
Shuts up the story of our days,

And from which grave and earth and dust,

The Lord shall raise me up, I trust."