and among them the frank-hearted Paladin beheld the greater portion of his own.  But what more astonished him, was to see multitudes of the vials almost full to the stopper, which bore the names of men whom he had supposed to enjoy their senses in perfection.  Some had lost them for love, others for glory, others for riches, others for hopes from great men, others for stupid conjurers, for jewels, for paintings, for all sorts of whims.  There was a heap belonging to sophists and astrologers, and a still greater to poets.[14]

Astolfo, with leave of the “writer of the dark Apocalypse,” took possession of his own.  He had but to uncork it, and set it under his nose, and the wit shot up to its place at once.  Turpin acknowledges that the Paladin, for a long time afterwards, led the life of a sage man, till, unfortunately, a mistake which he made lost him his brains a second time.[15]

The Evangelist now presented him with the vial containing the wits of Orlando, and the travellers quitted the vale of Lost Treasure.  Before they returned to earth, however, the good saint chewed his guest other curiosities, and favoured him with many a sage remark, particularly on the subject of poets, and the neglect of them by courts.  He shewed him how foolish it was in princes and other great men not to make friends of those who can immortalise them; and observed, with singular indulgence, that crimes themselves might be no hindrance to a good name with posterity, if the poet were but feed well enough for spices to embalm the criminal.  He instanced the cases of Homer and Virgil.

“You are not to take for granted,” said he, “that AEneas was so pious as fame reports him, or Achilles and Hector so brave.  Thousands and thousands of warriors have excelled them; but their descendents bestowed fine houses and estates on great writers, and it is from their honoured pages that all the glory has proceeded.  Augustus was no such religious or clement prince as the trumpet of Virgil has proclaimed him.  It was his good taste in poetry that got him pardoned his iniquitous proscription.  Nero himself might have fared as well as Augustus, had he possessed as much wit.  Heaven and earth might have been his enemies to no purpose, had he known how to keep friends with good authors.  Homer makes the Greeks victorious, the Trojans a poor set, and Penelope undergo a thousand wrongs rather than be unfaithful to her husband; and yet, if you would have the real truth of the matter, the Greeks were beaten, and the Trojans the conquerors, and Penelope was a —. [16] See, on the other hand, what infamy has become the portion of Dido.  She was honest to her heart’s core; and yet, because Virgil was no friend of hers, she is looked upon as a baggage.