The wisest Sovereigns err like private men,

And royal hand has sometimes laid the sword

Of chivalry upon a worthless shoulder,

Which better had been branded by the hangman.

What then?--Kings do their best; and they and we

Must answer for the intent, and not the event.

--OLD PLAY.

"It is a melancholy matter," said the Queen, when Tressilian was

withdrawn, "to see a wise and learned man's wit thus pitifully

unsettled. Yet this public display of his imperfection of brain plainly

shows us that his supposed injury and accusation were fruitless; and

therefore, my Lord of Leicester, we remember your suit formerly made

to us in behalf of your faithful servant Varney, whose good gifts and

fidelity, as they are useful to you, ought to have due reward from us,

knowing well that your lordship, and all you have, are so earnestly

devoted to our service. And we render Varney the honour more especially

that we are a guest, and, we fear, a chargeable and troublesome one,

under your lordship's roof; and also for the satisfaction of the good

old Knight of Devon, Sir Hugh Robsart, whose daughter he hath married,

and we trust the especial mark of grace which we are about to confer may

reconcile him to his son-in-law.--Your sword, my Lord of Leicester."

The Earl unbuckled his sword, and taking it by the point, presented on

bended knee the hilt to Elizabeth.

She took it slowly drew it from the scabbard, and while the ladies who

stood around turned away their eyes with real or affected shuddering,

she noted with a curious eye the high polish and rich, damasked

ornaments upon the glittering blade.

"Had I been a man," she said, "methinks none of my ancestors would have

loved a good sword better. As it is with me, I like to look on one, and

could, like the Fairy of whom I have read in some Italian rhymes--were

my godson Harrington here, he could tell me the passage--even trim

my hair, and arrange my head-gear, in such a steel mirror as this

is.--Richard Varney, come forth, and kneel down. In the name of God and

Saint George, we dub thee knight! Be Faithful, Brave, and Fortunate.

Arise, Sir Richard Varney."

[The incident alluded to occurs in the poem of Orlando Innamorato

of Boiardo, libro ii. canto 4, stanza 25.

"Non era per ventura," etc.

It may be rendered thus:-As then, perchance, unguarded was the tower,

So enter'd free Anglante's dauntless knight.

No monster and no giant guard the bower

In whose recess reclined the fairy light,

Robed in a loose cymar of lily white,

And on her lap a sword of breadth and might,

In whose broad blade, as in a mirror bright,

Like maid that trims her for a festal night,

The fairy deck'd her hair, and placed her coronet aright.




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