warning, and encouragement to genuine men

of letters:

"How seldom, friend! a good great man inherits

Honor or wealth, with all his worth and pains!

It sounds like stories from the land of spirits,

If any man obtain that which he merits,

Or any merit that which he obtains.

For shame, dear friend! renounce this canting strain! What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain ? titles - salary - a gilded chain

Place

Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain?
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 infant's breath;
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night -
Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death."

Kubla Khan, The Ancient Mariner, and Christabel new beings begotten on the brain of genius are fragrant with subtle meanings, penetrated by refined flames that impart to every limb poetic life, and hang around the whole an unquenchable luminousness. The poems he wrote in middle life have more substance and a more direct bearing on daily human affairs. If less ethereal than + these famous three, they are not less spiritual. The controlling, the generative power of the soul is an ever-present thought with Cole

ridge. Of this the following lines from the ode on Dejection is a happy illustration:

"And would we aught behold of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor, loveless, ever anxious crowd,
Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the earth

And from the soul itself must there be sent

A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!"

The fidelity of Coleridge's intuitions to the divinest demands of human nature, and the prolific union in him of moral and poetical sensibility, are nowhere more distinctly presented than in his poem entitled Love, Hope, and Patience in Education:

"O'er wayward childhood wouldst thou hold firm rule,
And sun thee in the light of happy faces;

Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces,
And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
For as old Atlas on his broad neck places
Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it, SO
Do these upbear the little world below
Of education, Patience, Love, and Hope.
Methinks, I see them grouped, in seemly show,
The straightened arms upraised, the palms aslope,
And robes that, touching as adown they flow,
Distinctly blend, like snow embossed in snow.
Oh, part them never! If Hope prostrate lie,
Love too will sink and die.

But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive
From her own life that Hope is yet alive;
And bending o'er with soul-transfusing eyes,
And the soft murmurs of the mother Love,

Woos back the fleeting spirit and half-supplies;

Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love,
Yet haply there will come a weary day,

When, overtasked, at length

Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way.
Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength,
Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth,
And both supporting does the work of both."

An able critic in the London Quarterly Review for July, 1863, in an article on Coleridge as a Poet," commenting on this poem, asks: "Can any other poem of this century be cited in which, within so small a compass, there is so wide a range?

The tragedy of Remorse, written in his first period, was accepted at Drury Lane Theatre in 1813, partly owing to the good offices of Lord Byron, at that time one of the directors of Drury Lane. Remorse had a run of twenty nights. This success encouraged Coleridge to write, and offer to Drury Lane, another tragedy, Zapolya, which was rejected. The best and brightest of Coleridge is not in his dramas. The acceptance and preparation of Remorse brought him into personal intercourse with

Byron, of whose countenance he gives this vivid portraiture: "If you had seen Lord Byron you could scarcely disbelieve him. So beautiful a countenance I scarcely ever saw ; his teeth so many stationary smiles; his eyes the open portals of the sun - things of light, and made for light; and his forehead, so ample, and yet so flexible, passing from marble smoothness into a hundred wreaths and lines and dimples, correspondent to the feelings and sentiments he is uttering."

In 1816, after desperate but ineffectual struggles against the tyranny of opium, he voluntarily put himself under the control of Dr. Gilman, of Highgate, and took up his abode with him. Dr. and Mrs. Gilman proved to be kind, appreciative friends. Through their tender, watchful care the curse of opium was lifted from his soul. Beneath their roof he lived for eighteen years, until his death.

The mind of Coleridge was multifold. It had pinions, and it was armed with blades; it could soar, and it could delve; it was poetical and philosophical, it was critical and creative. It was moved to embody the beautiful and to penetrate the abstruse. During his latter years he strove to dig deeper into the mines

of metaphysics and theology, whose subtle problems he had sought to solve in his younger years.

The first direction given, even to a mind of largest mold, is sometimes due to what is called chance. Hartley had been a member of Jesus College, Cambridge, where Coleridge had rooms, and the upper atmosphere of Cambridge was imbued with his philosophy, whose principles, being derived from Locke, were materialistic. With these principles Coleridge became infected so strongly that he named his first-born son Hartley. But no mind of full rich endowment can finally rest in philosophical doctrines so insufficient; and so Coleridge, before he went to Germany, was, by the movement of his own higher mental wants, drawn upward towards a wider, cleaner track. His consciousness prompted him to infer that man were an abject creature, a mere earthling, if only through the senses and experience he got all his knowledge. He felt that within the mind itself there must be an originating life. The Transcendental philosophy confirmed this consciousness, demonstrating the existence of a priori conceptions independent of experience. If Kant did not