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,
And the choirs of the higher powers, and blessed beings

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-
Constantly increasing these joys, varied in admirable modes,

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,

And what are the due rewards of virtue, finally

Must render the Father himself more happy than his wont.
Whence still more ample grace shall be showered upon us,

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
Mutually, embraced in sacred ardours,

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,

Sounds through heaven, publishing our joys,

And beauteous spectacles are put forth, hour by hour,

And, as it were, the whole fabric of heaven becomes a theatre,
Till the divine energy pervades the whole sweep of the world,
And chisels out from it new forms,

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,
Why may not then still greater things be disclosed?

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 speak now, except to ask, borne on this strong pinion, have you never faltered till you felt the need of a friend? strong in this clear vision, have you never sighed for a more homefelt assurance 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,—

Whereas, if the heart be moved,
Although the verse be somewhat scant,
God doth supply the want-

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.

George H.-I will say nothing, but leave you to time and the care of a greater than I. We have exchanged our verse, let us now change our subject too, and walk homeward; for I trust you, this night, intend to make my roof happy in your presence, and the sun is sinking.

Lord H.-Yes, you know I am there to be introduced to my new sister, whom I hope to love, and win from her a sisterly regard in turn.

George H.-You, none can fail to regard; and for her, even as you love me, you must her, for we are one.

Lord H.-(smiling)-Indeed; two years wed, and say that. George H.-Will your lordship doubt it? From your muse I took my first lesson.

Lord H.-(sighing)-You recall a happy season, when my thoughts were as delicate of hue, and of as heavenly a perfume as the flowers of May.

George H.-Have those flowers borne no fruit?

Lord H.-My experience of the world and men had made me believe that they did not indeed bloom in vain, but that the fruit would be ripened in some future sphere of our existence. What my own marriage was you know,—a family arrangement made for me in my childhood. Such obligations as such a marriage could imply, I have fulfilled, and it has not failed to bring me some benefits of good-will and esteem, and far more, in the happiness of being a parent. But my observation of the ties formed, by those whose choice was left free, has not taught me that a higher happiness than mine was the destined portion of men. They are too immature to form permanent relations; all that they do seems experiment, and mostly fails for the present. Thus I had postponed all hopes except of fleeting joys or ideal pictures. Will you tell me that you are possessed already of so much more?

George H.-I am indeed united in a bond, whose reality I cannot doubt, with one whose thoughts, affections, and objects every way correspond with mine, and in whose life I see a purpose so pure that, if we are ever separated, the fault must be mine. I believe God, in his exceeding grace, gave us to one another, for we met almost at a glance, without doubt before, jar or repentance after, the vow which bound our lives together.

Lord H.-Then there is indeed one circumstance of your lot I could wish to share with you. (After some moments' silence on both sides)—They told me at the house, that, with all your engagements, you go twice a-week to Salisbury. How is that? How can you leave your business and your happy home, so much and often?

George H.-I go to hear the music; the great solemn church music. This is, at once, the luxury and the necessity of my life. I know not how it is with others, but, with me, there is a frequent drooping of the wings, a smouldering of the inward fires, a lan