* * * * *

When a great man dies, he leaves a chasm which eternity cannot fill.
Others succeed to his fame--but never to the exact place which he held
in the world's eye;--they may be greater than the one we have lost--but
they are not he. Shakspeare built not his throne on the same site as
Homer--nor Scott on that whence Shakspeare looked down upon the
universe. The gap which Scott leaves in the world is the token of the
space he filled in the homage of his times. A hundred ages hence our
posterity will still see that wide interval untenanted--a vast and
mighty era in the intellectual world, which will prove how spacious were
"the city and the temple, whose summit has reached to Heaven."

_New Monthly Magazine_.

* * * * *


TO A ROSE.

THE THOUGHT FROM THE ITALIAN.


Queen of Flora's emerald bowers,
Imperial Rose, thou flower of flowers,
Wave thy moss-enwreathen stem,
Wave thy dewy diadem;
Thy crimson luxury unfold,
And drink the sunny blaze of gold.