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power and his dominion." Having uttered these now unfelt, but never forgotten. It was at once the words, he rose suddenly, and fled over the sands; melancholy of hope and of resignation. We had not long been fellow-travellers, ere a sud

and Cain said in his heart, "The curse of the Lord

is on me; but who is the God of the dead?" and he den tempest of wind and rain forced us to seek proran after the Shape, and the Shape fled shrieking tection in the vaulted door-way of a lone chapelry: over the sands, and the sands rose like white mists and we sate face to face each on the stone bench behind the steps of Cain, but the feet of him that along-side the low, weather-stained wall, and as close was like Abel disturbed not the sands. He greatly as possible to the massy door. outran Cain, and turning short, he wheeled round, After a pause of silence: Even thus, said he, like and came again to the rock where they had been two strangers that have fled to the same shelter from sitting, and where Enos still stood; and the child the same storm, not seldom do Despair and Hope caught hold of his garment as he passed by, and he meet for the first time in the porch of Death! All fell upon the ground. And Cain stopped, and be- extremes meet, I answered; but yours was a strange holding him not, said, "he has passed into the dark and visionary thought. The better then doth it be woods," and he walked slowly back to the rocks; seem both the place and me, he replied. From a and when he reached it the child told him that he Visionary wilt thou hear a Vision? Mark that vivid had caught hold of his garment as he passed by, and flash through this torrent of rain! Fire and water. that the man had fallen upon the ground: and Cain Even here thy adage holds true, and its truth is the once more sate beside him, and said, " Abel, my bro- moral of my Vision. I entreated him to proceed. ther, I would lament for thee, but that the spirit Sloping his face towards the arch and yet averting within me is withered, and burnt up with extreme his eye from it, he seemed to seek and prepare his agony. Now, I pray thee, by thy flocks, and by thy words: till listening to the wind that echoed within pastures, and by the quiet rivers which thou lovedst, the hollow edifice, and to the rain without, that thou tell me all that thou knowest. Who is the God of the dead? where doth he make his dwelling? what sacrifices are acceptable unto him? for I have he offered, but have not been received; I have prayed, and have not been heard; and how can I be afflicted more than I already am?" The Shape arose and answered, "O that thou hadst had pity on me as I will have pity on thee. Follow me, Son of Adam! and bring thy child with thee!"

And they three passed over the white sands between the rocks, silent as the shadows.


Which stole on his thoughts with its two-fold sound, The clash hard by and the murmur all round, gradually sunk away, alike from me and from his own purpose, and amid the gloom of the storm, and in the duskiness of that place, he sate like an em blem on a rich man's sepulchre, or like a mourner on the sodded grave of an only one-an aged mourner, who is watching the waned moon and sorroweth not Starting at length from his brief trance of abstrac tion, with courtesy and an atoning smile he renewed his discourse, and commenced his parable.

During one of those short furloughs from the service of the Body, which the Soul may sometimes obtain even in this, its militant state, I found myself in a vast plain, which I immediately knew to be the Valley of Life. It possessed an astonishing diversity of A FEELING of sadness, a peculiar melancholy, is soils: and here was a sunny spot, and there a dark wont to take possession of me alike in Spring and in one, forming just such a mixture of sunshine and Autumn. But in Spring it is the melancholy of shade, as we may have observed on the mountains Hope in Autumn it is the melancholy of Resigna-side in an April day, when the thin broken clouds tion. As I was journeying on foot through the Apen- are scattered over heaven. Almost in the very e nine, I fell in with a pilgrim in whom the Spring and trance of the valley stood a large and gloomy_pile. the Autumn and the Melancholy of both seemed to into which I seemed constrained to enter. Every have combined. In his discourse there were the part of the building was crowded with tawdry orna freshness and the colors of April:


Qual ramicel a ramo,

Tal da pensier pensiero
In lui germogliava.

ments and fantastic deformity. On every window was portrayed, in glaring and inelegant colors, some horrible tale, or preternatural incident, so that not a ray of light could enter, untinged by the medium But as I gazed on his whole form and figure, I be- through which it passed. The body of the building thought me of the not unlovely decays, both of age was full of people, some of them dancing, in and and of the late season, in the stately elm, after the out, in unintelligible figures, with strange ceremonies clusters have been plucked from its entwining vines, and antic merriment, while others seemed convulsed and the vines are as bands of dried withies around with horror, or pining in mad melancholy. Inter its trunk and branches. Even so there was a memo- mingled with these, I observed a number of men, ry on his smooth and ample forehead, which blended clothed in ceremonial robes, who appeared, now to with the dedication of his steady eyes, that still marshal the various groups and to direct their movelooked--I know not, whether upward, or far onward, ments, and now, with menacing countenances, to or rather to the line of meeting where the sky rests drag some reluctant victim to a vast idol, framed of upon the distance. But how may I express that iron bars intercrossed, which formed at the same dimness of abstraction which lay on the lustre of the time an immense cage, and the shape of a human pilgrim's eyes, like the flitting tarnish from the breath Colossus.

of a sigh on a silver mirror! and which accorded] I stood for a while lost in wonder what these things with their slow and reluctant movement, whenever might mean; when lo! one of the directors came up he turned them to any object on the right hand or on to me, and with a stern and reproachful look bade the left? It seemed, methought, as if there lay upon me uncover my head, for that the place into which I the brightness a shadowy presence of disappointments had entered was the temple of the only true Reli

gion, in the holier recess of which the great Goddess assisted without contradicting our natural vision, and personally resided. Himself too he bade me reverence, enabled us to see far beyond the limits of the Valley as the consecrated minister of her rites. Awe-struck of Life: though our eye even thus assisted permitted by the name of Religion, I bowed before the priest, us only to behold a light and a glory, but what we and humbly and earnestly entreated him to conduct could not descry, save only that it was, and that it me into her presence. He assented. Offerings he took was most glorious. from me, with mystic sprinklings of water and with And now, with the rapid transition of a dream, I salt he purified, and with strange sufflations he ex- had overtaken and rejoined the more numerous party, orcised me; and then led me through many a dark who had abruptly left us, indignant at the very name and winding alley, the dew-damps of which chilled of religion. They journeyed on, goading each other my flesh, and the hollow echoes under my feet, with remembrances of past oppressions, and never mingled, methought, with moanings, affrighted me. looking back, till in the eagerness to recede from the At length we entered a large hall, without window, Temple of Superstition, they had rounded the whole or spiracle, or lamp. The asylum and dormitory it circle of the valley. And lo! there faced us the seemed of perennial night-only that the walls were mouth of a vast cavern, at the base of a lofty and brought to the eye by a number of self-luminous almost perpendicular rock, the interior side of which, inscriptions in letters of a pale pulchral light, that unknown to them, and unsuspected, formed the exheld strange neutrality with the darkness, on the treme and backward wall of the Temple. An im verge of which it kept its rayless vigil. I could read patient crowd, we entered the vast and dusky cave, them, methought; but though each one of the words which was the only perforation of the precipice. taken separately I seemed to understand, yet when I At the mouth of the cave sate two figures; the first, took them in sentences, they were riddles and in- by her dress and gestures, I knew to be SENSUALITY; comprehensible. As I stood meditating on these hard the second form, from the fierceness of his demeanor, sayings, my guide thus addressed me-Read and be- and the brutal scornfulness of his looks, declared lieve: these are mysteries!-At the extremity of the himself to be the monster BLASPHEMY, He uttered vast hall the Goddess was placed. Her features, blend- big words, and yet ever and anon I observed that he ed with darkness, rose out to my view, terrible, yet turned pale at his own courage. We entered. Some vacant. I prostrated myself before her, and then remained in the opening of the cave, with the one or retired with my guide, soul-withered, and wondering, the other of its guardians. The rest, and I among and dissatisfied. them, pressed on, till we reached an ample chamber, that seemed the centre of the rock. The climate of the place was unnaturally cold.

As I re-entered the body of the temple, I heard a deep buzz as of discontent. A few whose eyes were bright, and either piercing or steady, and whose In the furthest distance of the chamber sate an ample foreheads, with the weighty bar, ridge-like, old dim-eyed man, poring with a microscope over above the eyebrows, bespoke observation followed the Torso of a statue which had neither basis, nor by meditative thought; and a much larger number, feet, nor head; but on its breast was carved NATURE! who were enraged by the severity and insolence of To this he continually applied his glass, and seemed the priests in exacting their offerings, had collected enraptured with the various inequalities which it in one tumultuous group, and with a confused outcry rendered visible on the seemingly polished surface of "this is the Temple of Superstition!" after much of the marble.-Yet evermore was this delight and contumely, and turmoil, and cruel maltreatment on triumph followed by expressions of hatred, and veall sides, rushed out of the pile: and I, methought, hement railings against a Being, who yet, he assured joined them. us, had no existence. This mystery suddenly recalled We speeded from the Temple with hasty steps, to me what I had read in the Holiest Recess of the and had now nearly gone round half the valley, temple of Superstition. The old man spoke in divers when we were addressed by a woman, tall beyond tongues, and continued to utter other and most strange the stature of mortals, and with a something more mysteries. Among the rest he talked much and vethan human in her countenance and mien, which yet hemently concerning an infinite series of causes and could by mortals be only felt, not conveyed by words effects, which he explained to be—a string of blind or intelligibly distinguished. Deep reflection, ani- men, the last of whom caught hold of the skirt mated by ardent feelings, was displayed in them: of the one before him, he of the next, and so on till and hope, without its uncertainty, and a something they were all out of sight: and that they all walked more than all these, which I understood not, but infallibly straight, without making one false step, which yet seemed to blend all these into a divine though all were alike blind. Methought I borrowed unity of expression. Her garments were white and courage from surprise, and asked him,-Who then is matronly, and of the simplest texture. We inquired at the head to guide them? He looked at me with her name. My name, she replied, is Religion. ineffable contempt, not unmixed with an angry susThe more numerous part of our company, affright-picion, and then replied, "No one. The string of ed by the very sound, and sore from recent impostures blind men went on for ever without any beginning: or sorceries, hurried onwards and examined no far- for although one blind man could not move without ther. A few of us, struck by the manifest opposition stumbling, yet infinite blindness supplied the want of of her form and manners to those of the living sight." I burst into laughter, which instantly turned to Idol, whom we had so recently abjured, agreed to terror-for as he started forward in rage, I caught follow her, though with cautious circumspection. a glance of him from behind; and lo! I beheld a She led us to an eminence in the midst of the valley, monster biform and Janus-headed, in the hinder face from the top of which we could command the whole and shape of which I instantly recognized the dread plain, and observe the relation of the different parts countenance of SUPERSTITION-and in the terror I of each to the other, and of each to the whole, and awoke.

of all to each. She then gave us an optic glass which


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No! we will be affronted, drop a courtesy, and ask pardon for our presumption in expecting that Mr.would waste his sense on two insignificant girls.


Well, well, I will be serious. Hem! Now then commences the discourse; Mr. Moore's song being the text. Love, as distinguished from Friendship, on the one hand, and from the passion that too often usurps its name, on the other


(Eliza's brother, who had just joined the trio, in a whisper to the Friend). But is not Love the union of both?

FRIEND (aside to LUCIUS).
He never loved who thinks so.


Brother, we don't want you. There! Mrs. H. cannot arrange the flower-vase without you. Thank you, Mrs. Hartman.


I'll have my revenge! I know what I will say!


Off! off! Now dear sir,-Love, you were saying


Hush! Preaching, you mean, Eliza.
ELIZA (impatiently).



Well then, I was saying that Love, truly such, is itself not the most common thing in the world: and mutual love still less so. But that enduring personal attachment, so beautifully delineated by Erin's sweet melodist, and still more touchingly, perhaps, in the well-known ballad, "John Anderson, my jo, John," in addition to a depth and constancy of character of bility and tenderness of nature; a constitutional comno every-day occurrence, supposes a peculiar sensi municativeness and utterancy of heart and soul; a delight in the detail of sympathy, in the outward and visible signs of the sacrament within-to count, as it were, the pulses of the life of love. But above all, it supposes a soul which, even in the pride and summer-tide of life-even in the lustihood of health and strength, had felt oftenest and prized highest that which age cannot take away, and which, in all our

From a man turned of fifty, Catherine, I imagine, lovings, is the Love— expects a less confident answer.


A more sincere one, perhaps.


Even though he should have obtained the nickname of Improvisatore, by perpetrating charades and extempore verses at Christmas times?

Nay, but be serious.




There is something here (pointing to her heart that seems to understand you, but wants the word that would make it understand itself.


I, too, seem to feel what you mean. Interpret the feeling for us.


-I mean that willing sense of the insufficing ness of the self for itself, which predisposes a gener ous nature to see, in the total being of another, the supplement and completion of its own-that quiet perpetual seeking which the presence of the beloved object modulates, not suspends, where the heart momently finds, and, finding, again seeks on-lastly, when "life's changeful orb has pass'd the full," a confirmed faith in the nobleness of humanity, thus brought home and pressed, as it were, to the very bosom of hourly experience: it supposes, I say, a Say another word, and we will call it downright heart-felt reverence for worth, not the less deep be

Serious? Doubtless. A grave personage of my years giving a love-lecture to two young ladies, cannot well be otherwise. The difficulty, I suspect, would be for them to remain so. It will be asked whether I am not the " elderly gentleman" who sate "despairing beside a clear stream," with a willow for his wig-block.



cause divested of its solemnity by habit, by familiar


ity, by mutual infirmities, and even by a feeling of guise of playful raillery, and the countless other modesty which will arise in delicate minds, when infinitesimals of pleasurable thought and genial they are conscious of possessing the same or the feeling. correspondent excellence in their own characters. In short, there must be a mind, which, while it feels the beautiful and the excellent in the beloved as its own, and by right of love appropriates it, can call Goodness its Playfellow, and dares make sport of time and infirmity, while, in the person of a thousand-foldly endeared partner, we feel for aged VIRTUE the caressing fondness that belongs to the INNOCENCE than good women, but that what another would find of childhood, and repeat the same attentions and in you, you may hope to find in another. But well, tender courtesies as had been dictated by the same which would be more than an adequate reward for however, may that boon be rare, the possession of affection to the same object when attired in feminine the rarest virtue. loveliness or in manly beauty.

Well, Sir; you have said quite enough to make me despair of finding a "John Anderson, my jo, John," to totter down the hill of life with.


What a soothing-what an elevating idea!


If it be not only an idea.



Not so! Good men are not, I trust, so much scarcer


Surely, he who has described it so beautifully, must have possessed it?


If he were worthy to have possessed it, and had believingly anticipated and not found it, how bitter the disappointment!

(Then, after a pause of a few minutes).
ANSWER (ex improviso).
Yes, yes! that boon, life's richest treat,
He had, or fancied that he had;
Say, 't was but in his own conceit-

The fancy made him glad!
Crown of his cup, and garnish of his dish!
The boon, prefigured in his earliest wish!
The fair fulfilment of his poesy,
When his young heart first yearn'd for sympathy!

But e'en the meteor offspring of the brain

At all events, these qualities which I have enumerated, are rarely found united in a single individual. How much more rare must it be, that two such individuals should meet together in this wide world under circumstances that admit of their union as Husband and Wife! A person may be highly estimable on the whole, nay, amiable as neighbor, friend, housemate-in short, in all the concentric circles of attachment, save only the last and inmost; and yet from how many causes be estranged from the highest perfection in this! Pride, coldness or fastidiousness of nature, worldly cares, an anxious or ambitious disposition, a passion for display, a sullen temper-one or the other-too often proves "the dead fly in the compost of spices," and any one is enough to unfit it for the precious balm of unction. For some mighty Faith asks her daily bread, Unnourish'd wane! good sort of people, too, there is not seldom a sort of solemn saturnine, or, if you will, ursine vanity, that Now so it chanced-from wet or dry, And Fancy must be fed! keeps itself alive by sucking the paws of its own self- It boots not how-I know not whyimportance. And as this high sense, or rather sensa-She miss'd her wonted food: and quickly tion of their own value is, for the most part, ground- Poor Fancy stagger'd and grew sickly. ed on negative qualities, so they have no better means Then came a restless state, 't wixt yea and nay, preserving the same but by negatives-that is, by His faith was fix'd, his heart all ebb and flow; not doing or saying any thing, that might be put down Or like a bark, in some half-shelter'd bay, for fond, silly, or nonsensical,—or (to use their own Above its anchor driving to and fro. phrase) by never forgetting themselves, which some of their acquaintance are uncharitable enough to think the most worthless object they could be employed in remembering.


ELIZA (in answer to a whisper from CATHERINE). To a hair! He must have sate for it himself. Save me from such folks! But they are out of the question.


That boon, which but to have possess’d
In a belief, gave life a zest―
Uncertain both what it had been,
And what it was-an evergreen
And if by error lost, or luck;
Which some insidious blight had struck,
Or annual flower, which past its blow,
No vernal spell shall e'er revive;
Uncertain, and afraid to know,

True! but the same effect is produced in thousands by the too general insensibility to a very important truth; this, namely, that the MISERY of human life is Doubts toss'd him to and fro; made up of large masses, each separated from the Hope keeping Love, Love Hope alive, other by certain intervals. One year, the death of a Like babes bewilder'd in a snow, child; years after, a failure in trade; after another That cling and huddle from the cold longer or shorter interval, a daughter may have In hollow tree or ruin'd fold.

married unhappily;-in all but the singularly un

fortunate, the integral parts that compose the sum Those sparkling colors, once his boast,
total of the unhappiness of a man's life, are easily Fading, one by one away,
counted, and distinctly remembered. The HAPPINESS Thin and hueless as a ghost,
of life, on the contrary, is made up of minute frac- Poor Fancy on her sick-bed lay;
tions-the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss, a Ill at distance, worse when near,
smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment in the dis-Telling her dreams to jealous Fear!

Where was it then, the sociable sprite
That crown'd the Poet's cup and deck'd his dish!
Poor shadow cast from an unsteady wish,
Itself a substance by no other right
But that it intercepted Reason's light;
It dimm'd his eye, it darken'd on his brow,
A peevish mood, a tedious time, I trow!
Thank Heaven! 'tis not so now.

O bliss of blissful hours!

The boon of Heaven's decreeing,
While yet in Eden's bowers

Dwelt the First Husband and his sinless Mate!
The one sweet plant which, piteous Heaven agreeing,
They bore with them through Eden's closing gate!
Of life's gay summer-tide the sovran Rose!
Late autumn's Amaranth, that more fragrant blows
When Passion's flowers all fall or fade;
If this were ever his, in outward being,
Or but his own true love's projected shade,
Now, that at length by certain proof he knows,
That whether real or magic show,
Whate'er it was, it is no longer so;
Though heart be lonesome, Hope laid low,
Yet, Lady! deem him not unblest:
The certainty that struck Hope dead,
Hath left Contentment in her stead:
And that is next to best!


Of late, in one of those most weary hours,
When life seems emptied of all genial powers,
A dreary mood, which he who ne'er has known
May bless his happy lot, I sate alone;
And, from the numbing spell to win relief,
Call'd on the past for thought of glee or grief.
In vain! bereft alike of grief and glee,
I sate and cower'd o'er my own vacancy!
And as I watch'd the dull continuous ache,
Which, all else slumb'ring, seem'd alone to wake;
O Friend! long wont to notice yet conceal,
And soothe by silence what words cannot heal,
I but half saw that quiet hand of thine
Place on my desk this exquisite design,
Boccaccio's Garden and its faëry,
The love, the joyaunce, and the gallantry!
An Idyll, with Boccaccio's spirit warm,
Framed in the silent poesy of form.
Like flocks adown a newly-bathed steep
Emerging from a mist: or like a stream
Of music soft that not dispels the sleep,

Or lent a lustre to the earnest scan

Of manhood, musing what and whence is man!
Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves
Rehearsed their war-spell to the winds and waves
Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids,
That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades;
Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast;
Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest,
Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array,
To high-church pacing on the great saint's day.
And many a verse which to myself I sang,
That woke the tear, yet stole away the pang,
Of hopes which in lamenting I renew'd.
And last, a matrón now, of sober mien,
Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen,
Whom as a faery child my childhood woo'd
Even in my dawn of thought-Philosophy.
Though then unconscious of herself, pardie,
She bore no other name than Poesy;
And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee,
That had but newly left a mother's knee,
Prattled and play'd with bird and flower, and stone,
As if with elfin playfellows well known,
And life reveal'd to innocence alone.

Thanks, gentle artist! now I can descry
Thy fair creation with a mastering eye,
And all awake! And now in fix'd gaze stand,
Now wander through the Eden of thy hand;
Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear
See fragment shadows of the crossing deer,
And with that serviceable nymph I stoop,
The crystal from its restless pool to scoop.
I see no longer! I myself am there,
Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share.
"Tis I, that sweep that lute's love-echoing strings,
And gaze upon the maid who gazing sings:
Or pause and listen to the tinkling bells
From the high tower, and think that there she dwells.
With old Boccaccio's soul I stand possest,
And breathe an air like life, that swells my chest.

The brightness of the world, O thou once free,
And always fair, rare land of courtesy!
O, Florence! with the Tuscan fields and hills!
And famous Arno fed with all their rills;
Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy!
Rich, ornate, populous, all treasures thine,
The golden corn, the olive, and the vine.
Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old,
And forests, where beside his leafy hold
The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn,
And whets his tusks against the gnarled thorn;
Palladian palace with its storied halls;
Fountains, where Love lies listening to their falls

But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream, Gardens, where flings the bridge its airy span,

Gazed by an idle eye with silent might
The picture stole upon my inward sight.
A tremulous warmth crept gradual o'er my chest,
As though an infant's finger touch'd my breast.
And one by one (I know not whence) were brought
All spirits of power that most had stirr'd my thought.
In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost
Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost;
Or charm'd my youth, that kindled from above,
Loved ere it loved, and sought a form for love;

And Nature makes her happy home with man;
Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed
With its own rill, on its own spangled bed,
And wreathes the marble urn, or leans its head,
A mimic mourner, that with veil withdrawn
Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn,
Thine all delights, and every muse is thine:
And more than all, the embrace and intertwine
Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance'
'Mid gods of Greece and warriors of romance,

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