e reply of this Augustus, "go, and study it before
you give yourself out as a scholar." Poor Barratier renounced for this
pursuit his other studies, and persevered with such ardour that he
became an excellent lawyer at the end of fifteen months; but his
exertions cost him at the same time his life!

Every monarch, however, has not proved so destitute of poetic
sensibility as this Prussian. Francis I. gave repeated marks of his
attachment to the favourites of the muses, by composing several
occasional sonnets, which are dedicated to their eulogy. Andrelin, a
French poet, enjoyed the happy fate of Oppian, to whom the emperor
Caracalla counted as many pieces of gold as there were verses in one of
his poems; and with great propriety they have been called "golden
verses." Andrelin, when he recited his poem on the Conquest of Naples
before Charles VIII., received a sack of silver coin, which with
difficulty he carried home. Charles IX., says Brantome, loved verses,
and recompensed poets, not indeed immediately, but gradually, that they
might always be stimulated to excel. He used to say, that poets
resembled race-horses, that must be fed but not fattened, for then they
were good for nothing. Marot was so much esteemed by kings, that he was
called the poet of princes, and the prince of poets.

In the early state of poetry what honours were paid to its votaries!
Ronsard, the French Chaucer, was the first who carried away the prize at
the Floral Games. This meed of poetic honour was an eglantine composed
of silver. The reward did not appear equal to the merit of the work and
the reputation of the poet; and on this occasion the city of Toulouse
had a Minerva of solid silver struck, of considerable value. This image
was sent to Ronsard, accompanied by a decree, in which he was declared,
by way of eminence, "The French Poet."

It is a curious anecdote to add, that when, at a later period, a similar
Minerva was adjudged to Maynard for his verses, the Capitouls, of
Toulouse, who were the executors of the Floral gifts, to their shame,
out of covetousness, never obeyed the decision of the poetical judges.
This circumstance is noticed by Maynard in an epigram, which bears this
title: _On a Minerva of silver, promised but not given_.

The anecdote of Margaret of Scotland, wife of the Dauphin of France, and
Alain the poet, is generally known. Who is not charmed with that fine
expression of her poetical sensibility? The person of Alain