But the neatest and prettiest specimen that has yet appeared comes from a highly cultivated lady who was attached to the court of Queen Elizabeth. Having been banished from the court on suspicion of too great familiarity with a nobleman then high in favor, the lady adopted this device,—_the moon covered by a cloud_,—and the following palindrome for a motto:— ABLATA AT ALBA. (Banished, but blameless.) The merit of this kind of composition was never in any example so heightened by appropriateness and delicacy of sentiment. Paschasius composed the recurrent epitaph on Henry IV.:— Arca serenum me gere regem, munere sacra, Solem, arcas, animos, omina sacra, melos. A very curious continuous series of palindromes was printed in Vienna in 1802. It was written in ancient Greek by a modern Greek named Ambrosius, who called it Πόιημα καρκινικὸν. It contains 455 lines, every one of which is a literal palindrome. A few are selected at random, as examples:— Ἰσα πασι Ση τε υη, Συ ὁ Μουσηγετης ις απασι. Νεαν ασω μελιφωνον, ὦ φιλε, Μωσαν αεν. Ὠ λακωνικε, σε μονω τω Νομε, σε κινω καλω. Ἀρετα πηγασε σε σα γη πατερα. Σωτηρ συ εσο, ὦ ελεε θεε λεω ος ευς ρητως. The following line is expressive of the sentiments of a Roman Catholic; read backwards, of those of a Huguenot:— Patrum dicta probo, nec sacris belligerabo. Belligerabo sacris, nec probo dicta patrum. These lines, written to please a group of youthful folk, serve to show that our English tongue is as capable of being twisted into uncouth shapes as is the Latin, if any one will take the trouble:— One winter’s eve, around the fire, a cozy group we sat, Engaged, as was our custom old, in after-dinner chat; Small-talk it was, no doubt, because the smaller folk were there, And they, the young monopolists! absorbed the lion’s share. Conundrums, riddles, rebuses, cross-questions, puns atrocious, Taxed all their ingenuity, till Peter the precocious— Old head on shoulders juvenile—cried, “Now for a new task: Let’s try our hand at _Palindromes_!” “Agreed! But first,” we ask, “Pray, Peter, what _are_ Palindromes?” The forward imp replied, “A _Palindrome_’s a string of words of sense or meaning void, Which reads both ways the same: and here, with your permission, I’ll cite some half a score of samples, lacking all precision (But held together by loose rhymes, to test my definition):— “A milksop, jilted by his lass, or wandering in his wits, Might murmur, ‘_Stiff, O dairy-man, in a myriad of fits!_’ “A limner by photography dead-beat in competition, Thus grumbled, ‘_No, it is opposed; art sees trade’s opposition!_’ “A nonsense-loving nephew might his soldier-uncle dun With ‘_Now stop, major-general, are negro jam-pots won?_’