Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man? three treasures, — love, and light,

And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath; And three firm friends, more sure than day and

night,

Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.

Reproof.

Nought cared this body for wind or weather When youth and I lived in 't together.

Youth and Age.

I counted two-and-seventy stenches,

All well defined, and several stinks. Cologne

The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne ;
But tell me, nymphs! what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
Ibid

Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O the Joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,

Ere I was old!

Youth and Age.

I stood in unimaginable trance

And agony that cannot be remembered.

Remorse. Act iv. Sc. 3.

The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,

The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and watery depths; all these have
vanished;

They live no longer in the faith of reason.

Translation of Wallenstein. Parti. Act ii. Sc. 4.

I've lived and loved.

Ibid. Parti. Act ii. Sc. 6.

Clothing the palpable and familiar
With golden exhalations of the dawn.

The Death of Wallenstein. Acti. Sc. 1.

Often do the spirits

Of great events stride on before the events,
And in to-day already walks to-morrow.

Ibid. Act v. Sc. I.

I have heard of reasons manifold

Why Love must needs be blind,
But this the best of all I hold, -
His eyes are in his mind.

To a Lady, offended by a Sportive Observation.

What outward form and feature are

He guesseth but in part ;

But what within is good and fair

He seeth with the heart.

Ibid.

My eyes make pictures, when they are shut. A Day-Dream.

Be that blind bard, who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possessed with inward light,

Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey,

Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.1

Fancy in Nubibus.

Biog. Lit.

Ch. xv.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.2

A dwarf sees farther than the giant when he has the giant's shoulder to mount on.3

The Friend. Sec. i. Essay 8.

In many ways doth the full heart reveal

The presence of the love it would conceal. Motto to Poems written in Later Life.

1 And Iliad and Odyssey

Rose to the music of the sea.

Homer, from the German of Stolberg.

Thalatta, p. 132.

2 A phrase, says Coleridge, which I have borrowed from a Greek monk, who applies it to a patriarch of Constantinople.

A dwarf on a giant's shoulders sees further of the two.- Herbert, Jacula Prudentum.

Grant them but dwarfs, yet stand they on giant's shoulders, and may see the further. - Fuller, The Holy State, Ch. vi. 8.

Compare Cyprianus, Vita Campanellæ, p. 15.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

1771-1854.

When the good man yields his breath (For the good man never dies).1

The Wanderer of Switzerland.

Part v.

Gashed with honourable scars,
Low in Glory's lap they lie;
Though they fell, they fell like stars,
Streaming splendour through the sky.
The Battle of Alexandria.

Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea.

The Ocean. Line 54.

Once, in the flight of ages past,

There lived a man.

The Common Lot.

Counts his sure gains, and hurries back for more.

The West Indies. Part iii.

Joys too exquisite to last,

And yet more exquisite when past.

The Little Cloud.

Bliss in possession will not last;
Remember'd joys are never past;
At once the fountain, stream, and sea,
They were, they are, they yet shall be.

Who hath not lost a friend?

There is no union here of hearts,

That finds not here an end.

Ibid.

Friends.

1 Θνήσκειν μὴ λέγε τοὺς ἀγαθούς. — Callim. Εp. x.

Could bear to be no more?

Yet who would tread again the scene

He trod through life before.

Here in the body pent,

Absent from Him I roam;

The Falling Leaf.

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent

A day's march nearer home.

At Home in Heaven.

If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,

How beautiful, beyond compare,

Will paradise be found!

The Earth full of God's Goodness.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed,

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

What is Prayer?

'Tis not the whole of life to live:

Nor all of death to die.

The Issues of Life and Death.