“I forgive thee,” said the father, “with all my heart, and I trust thou shalt see me overcome this storm lustily.” Then was his gown and fur cape taken from him, and he stood in his doublet and hose, in sight of all the people. There was to be seen a long, lean, and slender body, having on it little other substance besides the skin and bones. Indeed, so thin and emaciated was he that those who beheld him marveled much to see a living man so far consumed. Therefore, it appeared monstrous that the king could be so cruel as to put such a man to death as he was, even though he had been a real offender against the law. If he had been in the Turk’s dominion, and there found guilty of some great offense, yet methinks the Turk would never have put him to death being already so near death. For it is an horrible and exceeding cruelty to kill that thing which is presently dying, except it be for pity’s sake to rid it from longer pain. Therefore, it may be thought that the cruelty and hard heart of King Henry in this point passed all the Turks and tyrants that ever have been heard or read of. After speaking a few words the father kneeled down on his knees and said certain prayers. Then came the executioner and bound a handkerchief about his eyes. This holy father, lifting up his hands and heart to heaven, said a few other prayers, which were not long but fervent and devout, which being ended, he laid his holy head down over the midst of a little block.… And so his immortal soul mounted to the blissful joys of Heaven. --THE REV. T. E. BRIDGETT, C. SS. R. THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM appetite eagerly harangued minstrelsy eloquent abhor oration approbation A nightingale, that all day long Had cheered the village with his song, Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, Began to feel, as well he might, The keen demands of appetite; When, looking eagerly around, He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the glowworm by his spark; So, stooping from the hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent: “Did you admire my lamp,” quoth he, “As much as I your minstrelsy, You would abhor to do me wrong As much as I to spoil your song; For ’twas the selfsame Power divine Taught you to sing and me to shine; That you with music, I with light, Might beautify and cheer the night.” The songster heard this short oration, And, warbling out his approbation, Released him, as my story tells, And found a supper somewhere else. --WILLIAM COWPER. IF THOU COULDST BE A BIRD