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ET there is something round thy lips

That prophesies the coming doom,
The soft grey herald-shadow ere the

eclipse. Notches the perfect disc with gloom.-J. N.LOWELL.

The heart of Dante was naturally sensible, and even tender; his poetry is full of comparisons from rural life; and the sincerity of his early passion for Beatrice pierces through the veil of allegory that surrounds her. But the memory of his injuries pursued him into the immensity of eternal light; and in the company of saints and angels, his unforgiving spirit darkens at the name of Florence.


He, at once a man of action and of letters as were our best men; he, a man of faction; he, exile, fugitive, poor, drawing from adversity new powers and new glory; he, carried away by the ardent passions of the South beyond that moderation which was in his most lofty mood; he, beyond all others thoughtful, accompanied during all his life by love; he, in fact the Italian the most Italian that has ever lived.

C. BALBO. The world-worn Dante grasped his song,

And somewhat grimly smiled.—TENNYSON.

I know nothing so intense as Dante. There is, too, a brevity, an abrupt precision in him. One smiting word, and then there is silence, nothing more said. His silence is more eloquent than words.



HE old order changeth, yielding place to

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And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the

Comfort thyself; what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within himself make pure! but thou,
If thou should'st never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by

Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy

Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep and goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them

For so the whole round earth is everyway
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.


N his “In Memoriam " he has grappled

with the scepticism of his age; not like the school divine, but like a poet; not as

a priest, but as a man of large human heart, who feels that not doubt but faith is greatness and blessedness, yet that doubt must not be put down by force or terror, nor silenced by logic, but pass into belief through sorrow and the intuitions of the soul.


Long have I known thee as thou art in song,
And long enjoyed the perfume that exhales
From thy pure soul, and odour sweet entails
And permanence, on thoughts that float along
The stream of life, to join the passive throng
Of shades and echoes that are memory's being.
Long have I viewed thee in the crystal sphere
Of song, that, like the beryl, makes appear
Visions of hope, begot of recollection.
Knowing thee now, a real earth-treading man,
Not less I love thee, and not more I can.


He tells us what we are and may be; how we can live free and harmonious lives; whatgrand elements of thought, feeling, and action lie around us; 'and what a field there is for the various activities fermenting within us.


He has not suffered himself to become a mere intellectual voluptuary.



FTTIMES to God through frost and cloud

I Igo,
For light and warmth to break my icy

And pierce and rend my veils of doubt in twain,
With his divinest love, and radiant glow.
And if my soul sit cold and dark below
Yet all her longings fixed on heaven remain ;
And seems she ʼmid deep silence to a strain
To listen, which the soul alone can know,-
Saying, Fear naught! for Jesus came on earth,-
Jesus of endless joys the wide deep sea,
To ease each heavy load of mortal birth.
His waters ever clearest, sweetest be
To him, who in a lonely bark drifts forth,
On his great deeps of goodness trustfully.

HE belonged to that class of women who

never seek to extort anything by force,
and yet obtain everything. How ten-

derly she exercised her authority over Michael Angelo, whom she inspired with the happiness of yielding to a woman! The few years during which their friendship lasted were the happiest that were ever granted him in his whole life.


Not all unworthy of the boundless grace
Which thou, most noble lady, had bestowed,
I fain at first would pay the debt I owed
And some small gift for thy acceptance place,
But soon I felt 'tis not alone desire
That opes the way to reach an aim so high ;
My rash pretensions their success deny,
And I grow wise while failing to aspire.
And well I see how false it were to think
That any effort, poor and frail as mine,
Could emulate the perfect grace of thine!
Genius and art and daring backward shrink,
A thousand works from mortals like to me
Can ne'er repay what Heaven has given to thee!


She has more eloquence, and breathes more sweetness, than all other women, and gives such force to her lofty words, that she adorns the heavens in our day with another sun.


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