The subtile spirit in the grape was caught,
And to the slowly dying Monarch brought
In a great cup fantastically wrought,

Whereof he drank; then straightway from his brain
Went the weird malady, and once again
He walked the Palace free of scar or pain,--

But strangely changed, for somehow he had lost
Body and voice: the courtiers, as he crost
The royal chambers, whispered,--"_The King's Ghost_!"

* * * * *

MONOGRAPH FROM AN OLD NOTE-BOOK; WITH A POSTSCRIPT.

"ERIPUIT COELO FULMEN, SCEPTRUMQUE TYRANNIS."

In a famous speech, made in the House of Lords, March 16, 1838, against
the Eastern slave-trade, Lord Brougham arrests the current of his
eloquence by the following illustrative diversion:--

"I have often heard it disputed among critics, which of all quotations
was the most appropriate, the most closely applicable to the
subject-matter illustrated; _and the palm in generally awarded to that
which applied to Dr. Franklin the line in Claudian_,--

'Eripuit fulmen coelo, mox sceptra tyrannis';

yet still there is a difference of opinion, and even that citation,
admirably close as it is, has rivals."

The British orator errs in attributing this remarkable verse to
Claudian; and he errs also in the language of the verse itself, which he
fails to quote with entire accuracy. And this double mistake becomes
more noticeable, when it appears not merely in the contemporary report,
but in the carefully prepared collection of speeches, revised at
leisure, and preserved in permanent volumes.[6]

The beauty of this verse, even in its least accurate form, will not be
questioned, especially as applied to Franklin, who, before the American
Revolution, in which it was his fortune to perform so illustrious a
part, had already awakened the world's admiration by drawing the
lightning from the skies. But beyond its acknowledged beauty, this verse
has an historic interest which has never been adequately appreciated.
Appearing at the moment it did, it is closely associated with the
acknowledgment of American Independence. Plainly interpreted, it calls
George III. "tyrant," and announces that the sceptre has been snatched
from his hands. It was a happy ally to Franklin in France, and has ever
since been an inspiring voice. Latterly it has been adopted by the city
of Boston, and engraved on granite in letters of gold,--in honor of its
greatest child and citizen