seer, is blind, and painfully pursues his
way--the sharp thorn tears the mantle of the king of poets. His song
yet lives, and through that alone live all the heroes and gods of
antiquity.

[Illustration: THE KING OF POETS.]

One picture after another springs up from the east, from the west, far
removed from each other in time and place, and yet each one forming a
portion of the thorny road of honour, on which the thistle indeed
displays a flower, but only to adorn the grave.

The camels pass along under the palm trees; they are richly laden with
indigo and other treasures of price, sent by the ruler of the land to
him whose songs are the delight of the people, the fame of the
country: he whom envy and falsehood have driven into exile has been
found, and the caravan approaches the little town in which he has
taken refuge. A poor corpse is carried out of the town-gate, and the
funeral procession causes the caravan to halt. The dead man is he whom
they have been sent to seek--Firdusi--who has wandered the thorny road
of honour even to the end.

The African, with blunt features, thick lips, and woolly hair, sits on
the marble steps of the palace in the capital of Portugal, and begs:
he is the submissive slave of Camoens, and but for him, and for the
copper coins thrown to him by the passers by, his master, the poet of
the "Lusiad," would die of hunger. Now, a costly monument marks the
grave of Camoens.

There is a new picture.

Behind the iron grating a man appears, pale as death, with long
unkempt beard.

"I have made a discovery," he says, "the greatest that has been made
for centuries; and they have kept me locked up here for more than
twenty years!"

"Who is the man?

"A madman," replies the keeper of the madhouse. "What whimsical ideas
these lunatics have! He imagines that one can propel things by means
of steam. It is Solomon de Cares, the discoverer of the power of
steam, whose theory, expressed in dark words, is not understood by
Richelieu--and he dies in the madhouse!"

Here stands Columbus, whom the street boys used once to follow and
jeer, because he wanted to discover a new world--and he has discovered
it. Shouts of joy greet him from the breasts of all, and the clash of
bells sounds to celebrate his triumphant return; but the clash of the
bells of envy soon drowns the others. The discoverer of a world, he
who lifted the American gold land from the sea, and gave it to his
king--he is rewarded with