In another part they were praying after this fashion:—“Lord, let my father soon taste the joys of Paradise, that I may take possession of his estate.”—“Lord, take speedily my uncle to thy bosom, that I may have his benefice.”—“Great saint, make me fortunate at play; disdain not my prayer; grant that my children may contract opulent marriages, and prosper in the world.”—“Let my daughter espouse the noble Spaniard.”—They uttered other supplications fully as extravagant, and added promises and vows.—“I will give a hundred crowns to the poor, ornaments to my church, a dowry to six unhappy orphans, two wax tapers, and a chaplet of flowers to our lady.”—“I will wear a dark coloured habit,” said one girl; “and I a white,” said another. The first replies, “I am brunette, the violet suits my complexion;” the second, “I am red, the white becomes me best.” Next to this apartment was that of women and girls who had been lovers, and whose number was very considerable. As the history of their folly was similar, I felt unwilling to listen to it, but traversed their chamber without stopping, and entered into the quarter of the poets, to have the satisfaction of beholding the great geniuses of antiquity. There I was much surprised to find Homer, sitting in the midst of the Grecian poets, and reading his own _Iliad_, he who had been so blind during his life. I was tempted to ask him some questions respecting his works, and had an idea he would reply in verse. With this view I walked round the circle that was formed, and spoke in these terms to the prince of poets:—“O, illustrious Homer! light of the universe! author of the most sublime fictions! the beauty and price of thy writings surpass the grandeur of the king of Spain, the wisdom of Charlemagne, the abundance of Ceres, the girdle of the Graces, the tenderness of Venus, the delicacies of Bacchus, the brightness of Aurora, the height of heaven, the depth of hell, the vastidity of the ocean, and the variety of the world, a Spaniard who wants neither spirit nor courage, of Quevedo, demands of thee if the victory thou hast attributed to the Greeks before Troy truly belongs to them; and if Paris, that tender lover, actually in vain took so much trouble to carry off their chaste Helen.” Homer, rubbing his eyes, answered me thus:—“Here there must needs be sincerity and truth; for we pay dearly for the boldness and obloquy, that weak mortals admire: our torments are eternal. I never was in Ionia: I passed my life in Greece; to honour this nation I sacked Troy; a city strong, rich, fortunate, and always victorious, and that was finally destroyed by an earthquake. Helen, to whom I have accorded the honours of fidelity, was the least scrupulous of all our frail damsels. Leave me to relent over what hath charmed all the poets of the world. Go from this place, and tell mortals you found me reading, against my inclination, those works that have attained the universal suffrage.”