something of a character which they could call their own, and something of warm and lofty aspirations. Genius is given to few, and none can gain it to whom it is not given; but some of its attributes may be attained by the training by which it is itself developed. Therefore, while we maintain that the understanding is enriched by conversation, and genius trained by solitude, we would urge also, let the two schools be made use of by all characters, so that their advantages may be bestowed on those by whom each is most required.
Temporis illius colui fovique poetas ;
Quotque aderant vates, rebar adesse Deos.
(A visit to the Lake Poets sixty years ago.)
Vivere bis videor memorans; tres visere vates
Tempore qui nullo fit minor egit amor.
Est quoque visendi sacras reverentia sedes,
Non amor id suadet, nec tamen omne timor.
Jam vati, optato per somnia, conscius adsum :*
(Non secus optatam Phyllida cernit amans).
Cujus ab alloquiis mens instaurata revixit;
Ipsa viri bonitas jussit abesse metum.
Ingenium miror veluti qui suspicit Alpem ;
Hæc superat montes, nec minus ille viros.
Pars quota vir rerum vires docuere caducæ;
Sim quota pars equidem vir docet ille virûm.
E rigido quisquis, vix ullo tramite, clivo,
Naturamve petit pura sub alta lacûs,
Hunc amat illa suum: tali miracula vati
Clausa favens adyti dat reserasse sui.
Tuque adeo, sic fama refert, de monte vel undâ
Colligis indigenæ mystica jura Dei.
Carpere nam varios quot habet natura colores
Id tibi consilium est, id tuus omnis amor.
Nec tibi non laudi est humana interpete linguâ
Pandere; vir similis dissimilisque Dei.
Exprobrent alii numeros qui tenuia tractent,
Diluis hæc ipsâ simplicitate lyræ.
Quisquis et incusas, "Mirari maxima nescis?”
Gratulor assensu me caruisse tuo.
Namque pio vati thesauros omnia conplent,
Congruat ut variæ dædala lingua lyræ.
Rustica si quando venit obvia monte puclla,
Dant decor alternos rusticitasque sonos.
Sit qualis sua sors homini, qualisque futura,
Tu memoras, quid sit vivere, quidque mori.
Particula a regnis anima est emissa beatis
Et comes assumpti corporis inde venit:
Exsulis a patriâ dulcedine nascitur instar,
Fata sinunt reduci, nec nisi fata, viam.
Discrepat ille meo vates quem vulgus amârit,
Cui pensa imponit vox popularis herus:
Ille ambit nimio fortunam laudis amore,
Ambitione suas præpediente preces.
Hic nihil, ut scribit, spectat veneremve canemve,
Quoque minor præsens gloria, major erit.
Tune tamen nostro, memorande, silebere cantu,
Anxia cui veri nec satiata sitis,
Seu tibi Socraticis vigili impallescere chartis,
Seu fesso placuit tangere fila lyræ ?
Nec sophiæ indoctus, nec musæ inamabilis olim,
Nunc quoque sub tumulo carus utrique jaces.
Tuque homines quisquis prohibes exquirere verum,
(Nam grave nec certo limite crimen habet):
Parce timere fides ne corruat obruta vero;
Hunc Deus omnipotens vindicat esse suum.
Qualis in abrupto sublimis vertice mater
Felices olim respicit inde dies.
At puer erravit, barathro mox imminet alto,
Verba darent mortem ; sola silere salus.
Conscia sed mater valet una referre vagantem,
Alma sinu oblato vindicat illa suum.
His etiam geniale caput tu tertius adsis:*
Vivis enim scriptis mitior ipse tuis.
Primus amabilium comitum, doctissimus unus,
Carmina languenti mente legenda canis.
Cum fuero fessus libris, studioque peracto,
Suaserit et requie serior hora frui,
Consona tum menti, tua quam bene convenit horæ
Uber imaginibus barbitos usque novis.
Oblitusque mei per amœna pericula vitæ
Te sequor, et versu commemorata tuo.
Exsul ab urbe dolet Naso sua fata: quis ultro
Crederet exsilium tres petiisse viros?
Otia nam sordent cui non requiescere dulce est,
Cui non sors misero posse quiete frui.
Vivere sub Divo, montes numerare sodales,
Discere quot stellas nox habet alta sinu,
Sors erat hæc humilis, neque despicienda; faventi
Quid melius genio quam placuisse loci?
Vindicat ipsa suos morens natura poëtas,
Nec minus exanimes saxa lacusque fovent.
Inde equidem didici quod verum est dicere sanctum,
Reddere nec tantum cuncta sed esse Deum.
Perge potens animo tu debellare carentes,
Perge, cohors; nostrum tempus amare doces.
Posse frui quovis mortales carmine miror,
Sed semel audito posse carere tuo.
JOHANNES FREDERICUS GIBSON.
Land of St. Louis! Time's destroying breath
But adds a riper glory to thy wreath,
And decks the names of those that love thee well
With chaplets of thy native Immortelle !
How blest their task who crown with verse the head,
France, of thy valiant or thy sainted dead;
Seeking to know the true souls and the free,
Fearless and stainless sons of chivalry,
Who braved the foe without, the foe within,
The Paynim champion, and the secret sin,
The consecrated Oriflamme unfurled,
And reared the Cross to save a wayward world!
These first, with deep and zealous study, pore
O'er ponderous tomes of quaint historic lore;
Then raise their loftier flights of minstrelsy,
And hymn their loud Te Deums to the sky!
With such glad carols would my fond Muse fain
Essay to join her unobtrusive strain,
Breast all the clogging air with upward wing,
And crown with praise the Warrior, Saint, and King!
Who that hath known thee, France, hath e'er forgot
The varied loveliness of each fair spot?
The northern cots, where labour dwells content,
And homely virtue crowns a life well spent ;-
The fair expanse of slope, and dell, and plain,
That yields the sunny vintage of Champagne;-
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