She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!”

4.

About a stone-cast from the wall,
A sluice with blackened waters slept,
And o'er it many, round and small,
The clustered marish-mosses crept.
Hard by a poplar shook alway,

All silvergreen with gnarled bark,
For leagues no other tree did dark
The level waste, the rounding grey.

She only said, "My life is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, “I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

5.

And ever when the moon was low,
And the shrill winds were up an' away,

In the white curtain, to and fro,

She saw the gusty shadow sway.

But when the moon was very low,

And wild winds bound within their cell,
The shadow of the poplar fell

Upon her bed, across her brow.

She only said, "The night is dreary,
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

6.

All day within the dreamy house,

The doors upon their hinges creaked;
The blue fly sung i' the pane; the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shrieked,
Or from the crevice peered about.

Old faces glimmered through the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without.
She only said, "My life is dreary
He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!"

7.

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,
The slow clock ticking, and the sound
Which to the wooing wind aloof

The poplar made, did all confound
Her sense; but most she loathed the hour
When the thick-moted sunbeam lay
Athwart the chambers, and the day
Down-sloped was westering in his bower.
Then, said she, "I am very dreary,
He will not come," she said;
She wept, "I am aweary, aweary,
Oh God, that I were dead!"

Tennyson.

A lover would not tread

A cowslip on the head,

Though he should dance from eve till peep of day-Nor any drooping flower

Held sacred for thy bower,

Wherever he may sport himself and play.

Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side,
I sat a weeping: in the whole world wide
There was no one to ask me why I wept,-
And so I kept

Brimming the water-lily cups with tears
Cold as my fears.

Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side,
I sat a weeping: what enamour'd bride,
Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds,
But hides and shrouds

Beneath dark palm-trees by a river side?

And as I sat, over the light blue hills
There came a noise of revellers: the rills

Into the wide stream came of purple hue-
"Twas Bacchus and his crew!

The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills
From kissing cymbals made a merry din-
"Twas Bacchus and his kin!

Like to a moving vintage down they came,
Crown'd with green leaves, and faces all on flame;
All madly dancing through the pleasant valley,
To scare thee, Melancholy!

O then, O then, thou wast a simple name!
And I forgot thee, as the berried holly
By shepherds is forgotten, when in June,
Tall chesnuts keep away the sun and moon:-
I rush'd into the folly!

Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood,
Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood,

With sidelong laughing;

And little rills of crimson wine imbrued

His plump white arms, and shoulders, enough white For Venus' pearly bite;

And near him rode Silenus on his ass,

Pelted with flowers as he on did pass
Tipsily quaffing.

Whence came ye, merry Damsels! whence came ye, So many, and so many, and such glee?

Why have ye left your bowers desolate,

Your lutes, and gentler fate?

"We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing,

A conquering!

Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,
We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:-
Come hither, lady fair, and joined be

To our wild minstrelsy!"

Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye,
So many, and so many, and such glee?
Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left
Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?--

"For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree;
For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms,
And cold mushrooms;

For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth; Great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth !— Come hither, lady fair, and joined be

To our mad minstrelsy!"

With toying oars and silken sails they glide,
Nor care for wind and tide.

Mounted on panthers' furs and lions' manes,
From rear to van they scour about the plains;
A three days' journey in a moment done;
And always, at the rising of the sun,

About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn,
On spleenful unicorn.

I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown
Before the vine-wreath crown!

I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing
To the silver cymbals' ring!

I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce
Old Tartary the fierce!

The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail,
And from their treasures scatter pearled hail;
Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,
And all his priesthood moans,

Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale.
Into these regions came I, following him,
Sick-hearted, weary-so I took a whim
To stray away into these forests drear,
Alone, without a peer:

And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.

The Ideal is in thyself; thy condition is but the stuff thou art to shape that same Ideal out of. What matters whether such stuff be of this sort or of that; so the form thou give it be heroic, be poetic?—Sartar Resartus.

The Mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

Milton.

OF GOD.

THE philosopher neither denies nor asserts the being of a God: having no proof on either side of the question. Proof of the non-existence of a God can never be obtained: there may be many Gods, many existences differing from humanity, superior and inferior; but may be is no proof. Since God has never been made manifest to our senses, through which medium alone we can obtain satisfactory evidence, we can have no knowledge of his existence. They, to whom God has revealed himself, must believe in him; but with them the efficacy of the revelation rests: their account thereof is but the evidence of Man, who frequently errs, and sometimes lies. We must either allow all accounts of revelations, and consequently admit the truth of the Koran as well as of the Bible; or, on the same ground that we reject the one, refuse all. Implicit faith in every pretender to direct communion with God, whether Moses or Mahomet, St. John, Johanna Southcote, or John Thom; or entire rejection of that which can never be distinguished from imposture.

There is needed then an express revelation to every individual of every generation: "LET GOD SO SPEAK, AND THE UNIVERSE WILL BE CONVINCED!"

WHAT IS SPACE?

IS SPACE CREATED OR UNCREATED?

WE cannot conceive it possible to be created, since we cannot conceive it as non-existent; nor can we conceive it as annihilated or annihilable. If it have length, breadth, and depth, they must be infinite; if capacity, infinite and unbounded. It seems to be omnipresent, eternal, and unchangeable; to contain what existence it has, in the very idea, nature, or essence of it; to be a necessary being; to have a sort of self-existence.

It seems to be an impassable, indivisible, and immutable essence; It looks like an all-pervading, all-containing nature, an all-comprehending being. What are all these but attributes of Godhead? and what can this be but God?

Objections-1. If Space be God, then all bodies are situated in God, as in their proper place;-then every single body exists in part of God, and occupies so much of the dimensions of Godhead as it fills of space.

2. If Space were God, then God, though in the whole immeasurable, yet hath millions of parts, really distinct from each other, measurable by feet, inches, &c. even as the bodies contained therein; and, according to this notion, it may be most properly said, that one part of God is longer than another part of him, and that twenty-five inches of the Divine Nature, long, broad, and deep, will contain above two feet of solid body, &c.

Another hard consequence of supposing space to be God is this, Then every part of this divine space will contain perfections in it complete or only some part of each of them. If only some part of each, then each part of the space, whether an inch or a mile square, has a degree or share of wisdom, power, and holiness, in proportion to its dimensions-or we must allow that every part of space contains all these divine attributes in it completely; and if so, then not only every mile, but every inch of space, (if space be God) is all-wise, all-holy, almighty. Besides, if every inch of space contain completely these perfections, then there seem to be so many complete wisdoms and powers, that is in reality so many all-wise and almighty beings as there are inches or minutest parts of space; for every part of space seems to be as much independent on any other part, as one part of matter is independent on