RV point

When Hope, the eagle that tower’d, could see No cliff beyond him in the sky, His pinions were bent droopingly — And homeward turn’d his soften’d eye.

Can the pope, to say nothing of himself and his cardinals, do away with his four archbishops and ninety-eight bishops? Will he reduce the prodigious number of his priests, who muster as strong as one twenty-eighth of the population? Will he uncowl his monks, two thousand and twenty-three of whom swarm about the streets of Rome alone?

Afterwards Jim said the witches bewitched him and put him in a trance,[…]