e natural way."

"A curious story that," said Media; "whence came it?"

"My lord, where every thing, but one, is to be had:--within."

"You are charged to the muzzle, then," said Braid-Beard. "Yes, Mohi;
and my talk is my overflowing, not my fullness."

"And what may you be so full of?"

"Of myself."

"So it seems," said Mohi, whisking away a fly with his beard.

"Babbalanja," said Media, "you did right in selecting this ebon night
for discussing the theme you did; and truly, you mortals are but too
apt to talk in the dark."

"Ay, my lord, and we mortals may prate still more in the dark, when we
are dead; for methinks, that if we then prate at all, 'twill be in our
sleep. Ah! my lord, think not that in aught I've said this night, I
would assert any wisdom of my own. I but fight against the armed and
crested Lies of Mardi, that like a host, assail me. I am stuck full of
darts; but, tearing them from out me, gasping, I discharge them whence
they come."

So saying, Babbalanja slowly drooped, and fell reclining; then lay
motionless as the marble Gladiator, that for centuries has been dying.

CHAPTER XXXII
My Lord Media Summons Mohi To The Stand

While slowly the night wore on, and the now scudding clouds flown
past, revealed again the hosts in heaven, few words were uttered save
by Media; who, when all others were most sad and silent, seemed but
little moved, or not stirred a jot.

But that night, he filled his flagon fuller than his wont, and drank,
and drank, and pledged the stars.

"Here's to thee, old Arcturus! To thee, old Aldebaran! who ever poise
your wine-red, fiery spheres on high. A health to _thee_, my regal
friend, Alphacca, in the constellation of the Crown: Lo! crown to
crown, I pledge thee! I drink to _ye_, too, Alphard! Markab! Denebola!
Capella!--to _ye_, too, sailing Cygnus! Aquila soaring!--All round, a
health to all your diadems! May they never fade! nor mine!"

At last, in the shadowy east, the Dawn, like a gray, distant sail
before the wind, was descried; drawing nearer and nearer, till her
gilded prow was perceived.

And as in tropic gales, the winds blow fierce, and more fierce, with
the advent of the sun; so with King Media; whose mirth now breezed up
afresh. But, as at sunrise, the sea-storm only blows harder, to settle
down at last into a steady wind; even so, in good time, my lord Media
came to be more decorous of mood. And Babbalanja abated his reveries.

For who might