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lowed, by the nature of your life, its free force to search, it would survey the subject in a different way, and draw inferences more legitimate from a comparison of its own experience with the gospel.

Lord H.-My brother does not think the mind is free to act in courts and camps. To me it seems that the mind takes its own course everywhere, and that, if men cannot have outward, they can always mental seclusion. None is so profoundly lonely, none so in need of constant self-support, as he who, living in the crowd, thinks an inch aside from, or in advance of it. The hermitage of such an one is still and cold; its silence unbroken to a degree of which these beautiful and fragrant solitudes give no hint. These sunny sights and sounds, promoting reverie rather than thought, are scarce more favourable to a great advance in the intellect, than the distractions of the busy street. Beside, we freed the assaults of other minds to quicken our powers, so easily hushed to sleep, and call it peace. The mind takes a bias too easily, and does not examine whether from tradition or a native growth intended by the heavens.

George H.-But you are no common man. You shine, you charm, you win, and the world presses too eagerly on you to leave many hours for meditation.

Lord H.-It is a common error to believe that the most prosperous men love the world best. It may be hardest for them to leave it, because they have been made effeminate and slothful by want of that exercise which difficulty brings. But this is not the case with me; for, while the common boons of life's game have been too easily attained, to hold high value in my eyes, the goal which my secret mind, from earliest infancy, prescribed, has been high enough to task all my energies. Every year has helped to make that, and that alone, of value in my eyes; and did I believe that life, in scenes like this, would lead me to it more speedily than in my accustomed broader way, I would seek it

to-morrow-nay, to-day. But is it worthy of a man to make him a cell, in which alone he can worship? Give me rather the always open temple of the universe! To me, it seems that the only course for a man is that pointed out by birth and fortune. Let him take that and pursue it with clear eyes and head erect, secure that it must point at last to those truths which are central to us, wherever we stand; and if my road, leading through the busy crowd of men, amid the clang and bustle of conflicting interests and passions, detain me longer than would the still path through the groves, the chosen haunt of contemplation, yet I incline to think that progress so, though slower, is surer. Owing no safety, no clearness to my position, but so far as it is attained to mine own effort, encountering what temptations, doubts and lures may beset a man, what I do possess is more surely mine, and less a prey to contingencies. It is a well-tempered wine that has been carried over many seas, and escaped many shipwrecks.

George H.-I can the less gainsay you, my lord and brother, that your course would have been mine could I have chosen. Lord H.-Yes; I remember thy verse :-

Whereas my birth and spirits rather took
The way that takes the town;

Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,
And wrap me in a gown.

It was not my fault, George, that it so chanced.

George H.-I have long learnt to feel that it noway chanced; that thus, and no other, was it well for me. But how I view these matters you are, or may be well aware, through a little book I have writ. Of you I would fain learn more than can be shown me by the display of your skill in controversy in your printed works, or the rumors of your feats at arms, or success with the circles of fair ladies, which reach even this quiet nook. Rather let us, in this hour of intimate converse, such as we have

not had for years, and may not have again, draw near in what is nearest; and do you, my dear Lord, vouchsafe your friend and brother some clear tokens as to that goal you say has from childhood been mentally prescribed you, and the way you have taken to gain it.

Lord H.-I will do this willingly, and the rather that I have with me a leaf, in which I have lately recorded what appeared to me in glimpse or flash in my young years, and now shines upon my life with steady ray. I brought it, with some thought that I might impart it to you, which confidence I have not shown to any yet; though if, as I purpose, some memoir of my life and times should fall from my pen, these poems may be interwoven there as cause and comment for all I felt, and knew, and was. The first contains my thought of the beginning and progress of life :

(From the Latin of Lord Herbert.)


First, the life stirred within the genial seed,
Seeking its properties, whence plastic power
Was born. Chaos, with lively juice pervading,
External form in its recess restraining,
While the conspiring causes might accede,
And full creation safely be essayed.

Next, movement was in the maternal field;
Fermenting spirit puts on tender limbs,

And, earnest, now prepares, of wondrous fabric,

The powers of sense, a dwelling not too mean for mind contriving

That, sliding from its heaven, it may put on

These faculties, and, prophesying future fate,

Correct the slothful weight (of matter,) nor uselessly be manifested.

A third stage, now, scene truly great contains

The solemn feast of heaven, the theatre of earth,
Kindred and species, varied forms of things

Are here discerned, and, from its own impulse,
It is permitted to the soul to circle,
Hither and thither rove, that it may see
Laws and eternal covenants of its world,
And stars returning in assiduous course,
The causes and the bonds of life to learn,
And from afar foresee the highest will.
How he to admirable harmony
Tempers the various motions of the world,

And Father, Lord, Guardian, and Builder-up,
And Deity on every side is styled.

Next, from this knowledge the fourth stage proceeds:
Cleansing away its stains, mind daily grows more pure,
Enriched with various learning, strong in virtue,
Extends its powers, and breathes sublimer air:

A secret spur is felt within the inmost heart,
That he who will, may emerge from this perishable state,
And a happier is sought

By ambitious rites, consecrations, religious worship,
And a new hope succeeds, conscious of a better fate,
Clinging to things above, expanding through all the heavens,
And the Divine descends to meet a holy love,

And unequivocal token is given of celestial life.

That, as a good servant, I shall receive my reward;
Or, if worthy, enter as a son, into the goods of my father,
God himself is my surety. When I shall put off this life,
Confident in a better, free in my own will,

He himself is my surety, that a fifth, yet higher state shall ensue,
And a sixth, and all, in fine, that my heart shall know how to ask.


Purified in my whole genius, I congratulate myself
Secure of fate, while neither am I downcast by any terrors,
Nor store up secret griefs in my heart,

But pass my days cheerfully in the midst of mishaps,

Despite the evils which engird the earth,

Seeking the way above the stars with ardent virtue.

I have received, beforehand, the first fruits of heavenly life

I now seek the later, sustained by divine love,

Through which, conquering at once the scoffs of a gloomy destiny,

I leave the barbarous company of a frantic age,

Breathing out for the last time the infernal air-breathing in the supernal, I enfold myself wholly in these sacred flames,

And, sustained by them, ascend the highest dome,

And far and wide survey the wonders of a new sphere,

And see well-known spirits, now beautiful in their proper light,

And the choirs of the higher powers, and blessed beings

With whom I desire to mingle fires and sacred bonds—
Passing from joy to joy the heaven of all,

What has been given to ourselves, or sanctioned by a common vow.

God, in the meantime, accumulating his rewards,

May at once increase our honour and illustrate his own love.

Nor heavens shall be wanting to heavens, nor numberless ages to life,
Nor new joys to these ages, such as an

Eternity shall not diminish, nor the infinite bring to an end.

Nor, more than all, shall the fair favour of the Divine be wanting—
Constantly increasing these joys, varied in admirable modes,
And making each state yield only to one yet happier,

And what we never even knew how to hope, is given to us—
Nor is aught kept back except what only the One can conceive,
And what in their own nature are by far most perfect

In us, at least, appear embellished,

Since the sleeping minds which heaven prepares from the beginning—

Only our labor and industry can vivify,

Polishing them with learning and with morals,

That they may return all fair, bearing back a dowry to heaven,

When, by use of our free will, we put to rout those ills
Which heaven has neither dispelled, nor will hereafter dispel.
Thus through us is magnified the glory of God,

And our glory, too, shall resound throughout the heavens,
And what are the due rewards of virtue, finally

Must render the Father himself more happy than his wont.
Whence still more ample grace shall be showered upon us,
Each and all yielding to our prayer,

For, if liberty be dear, it is permitted

To roam through the loveliest regions obvious to innumerable heavens, And gather, as we pass, the delights of each,

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