and the submission to the Supreme Will. As the ideal genius and the originality, so must be the resignation to the real world, the sympathy and the intercommunion with Nature."-COLERIDGE'S Posthumous Tract, The Idea of Life.

Since writing the above, our friend "E.V.K." has shown himself curiously unaffected by "that last infirmity of noble minds,”—his “clear spirit heeds all too little its urgent "spur." The following sonnets are all we can pilfer from him. They are worth the stealing ::

AN ARGUMENT IN RHYME.

I.

"Things that now are beget the things to be,
As they themselves were gotten by things past;
Thou art a sire, who yesterday but wast
A child like him now prattling on thy knee;
And he in turn ere long shall offspring see.
Effects at first, seem causes at the last,
Yet only seem; when off their veil is cast,
All speak alike of mightier energy,

Received and pass'd along. The life that flows

Through space and time, bursts in a loftier source

What's spaced and timed is bounded, therefore shows
A power beyond, a timeless, spaceless force,
Templed in that infinitude, before

Whose light-veiled porch men wonder and adore.

II.

"Wonder! but-for we cannot comprehend,

Dare not to doubt. Man, know thyself! and know
That, being what thou art, it must be so.
We creatures are, and it were to transcend
The limits of our being, and ascend

Above the Infinite, if we could show

All that He is and how things from Him flow.
Things and their laws by Man are grasp'd and kenn'd,
But creatures must no more; and Nature's must

Is Reason's choice; for could we all reveal
Of God and acts creative, doubt were just.
Were these conceivable, they were not real.
Here, ignorance man's sphere of being suits,
'Tis knowledge self, or of her richest fruits.

III.

"Then rest here, brother!

Boldly thine anchor cast.

and within the veil
What though thy boat

No shoreland sees, but undulates afloat

On soundless depths; securely fold thy sail.
Ah! not by daring prow and favouring gale
Man threads the gulfs of doubting and despond,
And gains a rest in being unbeyond,
Who roams the furthest, surest is to fail;
Knowing nor what to seek, nor how to find.
Not far but near, about us, yea within,
Lieth the infinite life. The pure in mind
Dwell in the Presence, to themselves akin;
And lo! thou sick and health-imploring soul,
He stands beside thee-touch, and thou art whole."

DR. CHALMERS.

"Fervet immensusque ruit."-HOR.

"His memory long will live alone.

In all our hearts, as mournful light

That broods above the fallen sun,

And dwells in heaven half the night."

TENNYSON.

"He was not one man, he was a thousand men."-SYDNEY

SMITH.

HEN, towards the close of some long summer day, we come suddenly, and,

W

as we think, before his time, upon the broad sun, “sinking down in his tranquillity" into the unclouded west; we cannot keep our eyes from the great spectacle ;-and when he is gone, the shadow of him haunts our sight with the spectre of his brightness, which is dark when our eyes are open; luminous when they are shut: we see everywhere, -upon the spotless heaven, upon the distant mountains, upon the fields, and upon the road at our feet, —that dim, strange, changeful image; and if our eyes shut, to recover themselves, we still find in them, like a dying flame, or like a gleam in a dark place, the unmistakable phantom of the mighty orb that has set, and were we to sit down, as we have often done, and try to record by pencil or by pen, our impression of that supreme hour, still would IT