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.) LIFE. First, the life stirred within the genial seed, Next, movement was in the maternal field; 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, Are here discerned,—and, from its own impulse, It is permitted to the soul to circle, Hither and thither rove, that it may see 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: A secret spur is felt within the inmost heart, That he who will, may emerge from this perishable state, By ambitious rites, consecrations, religious worship, 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, He himself is my surety, that a fifth, yet higher state shall ensue, CONJECTURES CONCERNING THE HEAVENLY LIFE. 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, 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— 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 beginningOnly 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, Must render the Father himself more happy than his wont. 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, If fixed contemplation be chosen rather in the mind, All the mysteries of the high regions shall be laid open to us, And the joy will be to know the methods of God,— Then it may be permitted to act upon earth, to have a care Of the weal of men, and to bestow just laws. If we are more delighted with celestial love, We are dissolved into flames which glide about and excite one another Spring upwards, enfolded together in firmest bonds, In parts and wholes, mingling by turns, And the ardour of the Divine kindles (in them) still new ardours, It will make us happy to praise God, while he commands us, The angelic choir, singing together with sweet modulation, And beauteous spectacles are put forth, hour by hour, And, as it were, the whole fabric of heaven becomes a theatre, Adorned with new faculties, of larger powers. Our forms, too, may then be renewed Assume new forms and senses, till our Joys again rise up consummate. If trusting thus, I shall have put off this mortal weed, George H.-(who, during his brother's reading, has listened, with head bowed down, leaned on his arm, looks up after a few moments' silence)-Pardon, my lord, if I have not fit words to answer you. The flood of your thought has swept over me like music, and like that, for the time, at least, it fills and satisfies. I am conscious of many feelings which are not touched upon there,―of the depths of love and sorrow made known to men, through One whom you as yet know not. But of these I will not strong pinion, have you speak now, except to ask, borne on this never faltered till you felt the need of a friend? strong in this clear vision, have you never sighed for a more homefelt assu rance to your faith? steady in your demand of what the soul re quires, have you never known fear lest you want purity to receive the boon if granted? Lord H.-I do not count those weak moments, George; they are not my true life. George H.-It suffices that you know them, for, in time, I doubt not that every conviction which a human being needs, to be reconciled to the Parent of all, will be granted to a nature so ample, so open, and so aspiring. Let me answer in a strain which bespeaks my heart as truly, if not as nobly as yours answers to your great mind,— My joy, my life, my crown! My heart was meaning all the day And still it runneth, muttering, up and down, Yet slight not these few words; The fineness which a hymn or psalm affords, He who craves all the mind And all the soul, and strength and time; Justly complains, that somewhat is behind Whereas, if the heart be moved, As when the heart says, sighing to be approved, "Oh, could I love!" and stops; God writeth, loved. Lord H.-I cannot say to you truly that my mind replies to this, although I discern a beauty in it. You will say I lack humility to understand yours. |