And wonders, as we wonder." In that dark We knelt together . . . Very strange to see The vanity and fickleness of princes. Before his enemies had provoked the wrath Of Rome against him, he had given the name Of Medicean stars to those four moons In honour of Prince Cosmo. This aroused The court of France to seek a lasting place Upon the map of heaven. A letter came Beseeching him to find another star Even more brilliant, and to call it _Henri_ After the reigning and most brilliant prince Of France. They did not wish the family name Of Bourbon. This would dissipate the glory. No, they preferred his proper name of Henri. We read it together in the garden here, Weeping with laughter, never dreaming then That this, this, this, could stir the little hearts Of men to envy. O, but afterwards, The blindness of the men who thought themselves His enemies. The men who never knew him, The men that had set up a thing of straw And called it by his name, and wished to burn Their image and himself in one wild fire. Men? Were they men or children? They refused Even to look through Galileo's glass, Lest seeing might persuade them. Even that sage, That great Aristotelian, Julius Libri, Holding his breath there, like a fractious child Until his cheeks grew purple, and the veins Were bursting on his brow, swore he would die Sooner than look. And that poor monstrous babe Not long thereafter, kept his word and died, Died of his own pent rage, as I have heard. Whereat my lord and father shook his head And, smiling, somewhat sadly--oh, you know That smile of his, more deadly to the false Than even his reasoning--murmured, _"Libri, dead, Who called the moons of Jupiter absurd! He swore he would not look at them from earth, I hope he saw them on his way to heaven."_ Welser in Augsburg, Clavius at Rome, Scoffed at the fabled moons of Jupiter, It was a trick, they said. He had made a glass To fool the world with false appearances. Perhaps the lens was flawed. Perhaps his wits Were wandering. Anything rather than the truth Which might disturb the mighty in their seat. "Let Galileo hold his own opinions. I, Clavius, will hold mine." He wrote to Kepler; "You, Kepler, are the first, whose open mind And lofty genius could accept for truth The things which I have seen. With you for friend, The abuse of the multitude will not trouble me. Jupiter stands in heaven and will stand, Though all the sycophants bark at him. In Pisa, Florence, Bologna, Venice, Padua, Many have seen the moons. These witnesses Are silent and uncertain. Do you wonder? Most of them could not, even when they saw them, Distinguish Mars from Jupiter. Shall we side With Heraclitus or Democritus? I think, my Kepler, we will only laugh At this immeasurable stupidity. Picture the leaders of our college here. A thousand times I have offered them the proof