How long shall we boast that thou hast made thine abode in our breast, and that thou hast therein an altar which is inviolate, and that we are at one with the vast family of the flesh; and yet so oft awaken to a contest that may not come from thy dwelling, and passions that cannot have kindled in thy sanctuary, and dark distrustfulness not born of thee-which tell us bodingly that thou, white-mantled Maid! are but the rare denizen of our troubled sphere-art still too much a stranger to our faller race. Thou hast tuned thy lyre at the eternal F unt, and its burden is evermore of glad tidings; but when shall thy feet be beautiful upon the mountains, and the mountains be made low, that we all may view thy vesture, and know thee from the phantom we now vainly clasp, by the unsullied love that shall in thought and word for ever rise like crystal sparkles from the pure living spring within us?" COLLOQUY III. A FEW WORDS UPON SHAKSPEARE. "Death makes no conquest of this Conqueror; HAVING attained this stage of intimacy and confidence with the tenant of Ivy Lodge, I thenceforth made a weekly pilgrimage thither, with admirable uniformity. A lawyer's protestation of disinterestedness is so often considered and treated as a matter of levity, that I have long since declined protesting by it, and do not, therefore, assert for the steady constancy of my movements that charm which inflexible regularity derives from the evident absence of self-interest. Were I not constrained by the consciousness, that a complaint urged by so impotent a limb as am I, against that K |