If he lament, she melts herself in tears;
If he be glad, she triumphs; if he stir,
She moves his way;

And is in alterations passing strange;
Himself divinely varied without change.
Gold is right precious, but his price infects

With pride and avarice; authority lifts

Hats from men's heads, and bows the strongest knees,
Yet cannot bend in rule the weakest hearts;

Music delights but one sense; and choice meats;

One quickly fades; the others stir to sin;

But a true wife both sense and soul delights,
And mixeth not her good with any ill ;

Her virtues, ruling hearts, all powers command;
All store without her leaves a man but poor,
And with her poverty is exceeding store;
No time is tedious with her; her true worth
Makes a true husband think his arms enfold
(With her alone) a complete world of gold."
Gentleman Usher.

Here is something very beautiful :

"Exceeding fair she was not, and yet fair

In that she never studied to be fairer

Than nature meant her; beauty cost her nothing."

Of Love he says:

"Love is nature's second sun,

All Fools.

Causing a spring of virtues where he shines;
And as, without the sun, the world's great eye,
All colors, beauties, both of art and nature,
Are given in vain to men; so, without love,
All beauties bred in women are in vain,
All virtues born in men lie buried;
For love informs us as the sun doth colors:
And, as the sun, reflecting his warm beams

Against the earth, begets all fruits and flowers,
So love, fairshining in the inward man,
Brings forth in him the honorable fruits
Of valor, wit, virtue, and haughty thoughts,
Brave resolution, and divine discourse."

All Fools.

JOHN.

Yes; and, wanting love, a man remains nailed to the dreadful cross of self without help or hope. I begin to feel that Chapman is truly a poet. A trickster, a man who loves the art for the applause it wins him, or runs about seeking for Apollo's arrows because they are of gold, concentrates all our admiration upon himself; a true poet makes us forget himself, makes life and the whole human race grow more noble in our eyes. It is only when the instruments are poor and meagre or out of tune, that we think of them, and are conscious of aught but the music they give birth to, or the divine emotions that rise, like Venus, rosy and dripping, from its golden waves.

PHILIP.

Chapman's poetry abounds in striking aphorisms, which often serve to clench and rivet the sense; but he is so fond of them, that he welds them on sometimes as if at random, or even sticks them lightly to the text with a frail wafer. In themselves, they are always full of earnest sense and philosophy. Here are a few examples:

prudery need not bristle in such a hedgehog fashion because a woman in the chaste garb of the Friends dares to plead in public for the downtrodden cause of justice and freedom. Or perhaps it is more modest and maidenly for a woman to expose her body in public than her soul? If we listen and applaud, while, as Coleridge says,

"Heaves the proud harlot her distended breast

In intricacies of laborious song,"

must we esteem it derogatory to our sense of refinement to drink from the fresh brook of a true woman's voice, as it gushes up from a heart throbbing only with tenderness for our neighbour fallen among thieves? Here in Massachusetts we burn Popish nunneries, but we maintain a whole system of Protestant ones. If a woman is to be an Amazon, all the cloisters in the world will not starve or compress her into a Cordelia. There is no sex in noble thoughts, and deeds agreeing with them; and such recruits do equally good service in the army of truth, whether they are brought in by women or Out on our Janus-faced virtue, with its one front looking smilingly to the stage, and its other with shame-shut eyes turned frowningly upon the Anti-slavery Convention! If other reapers be wanting, let women go forth into the harvest-field of God and bind the ripe shocks of grain; the complexion of their souls shall not be tanned or weather-stained, for the sun that shines there only makes the fairer and whiter all that it looks upon.

men.

By which her fruitful vine and wholesome fare
She let be spoiled to make a childish snare."

After an unpropitious sacrifice,

"Hero wept, but her affrighted eyes
She quickly wrested from the sacrifice,
Shut them, and inward for Leander looked,
Searched her soft bosom, and from thence she plucked
His lovely picture; which when she had viewed,
Her beauties were with all love's joys renewed;
The odors sweetened, and the fires burned clear;
Leander's form left no ill object there."

This is beautiful, and ends with a fine truth:
"Her chamber her cathedral-church should be,
And her Leander her chief deity.

For, in her love, these did the gods forego;
And, though her knowledge did not teach her so,
Yet it did teach her this, that what her heart

That she did make her god; and 't was less naught

To leave gods in profession and in thought
Than in her love and life; for therein lie
Most of her duties and their dignity;

And, rail the brainbald world at what it will,
That's the grand atheism that reigns in it still!"

These two similes are very fresh :

"His most kind sister all his secrets knew,
And to her, singing, like a shower he flew":
"Home to the mourning city they repair

With news as wholesome as the morning air."

I must unwillingly lay down the little volume, and come back to glean a few more aphoristic sen

tences.

If he lament, she melts herself in tears;
If he be glad, she triumphs; if he stir,
She moves his way;

And is in alterations passing strange;
Himself divinely varied without change.
Gold is right precious, but his price infects

With pride and avarice; authority lifts

Hats from men's heads, and bows the strongest knees,
Yet cannot bend in rule the weakest hearts;

Music delights but one sense; and choice meats;

One quickly fades; the others stir to sin;

But a true wife both sense and soul delights,
And mixeth not her good with any ill;

Her virtues, ruling hearts, all powers command;
All store without her leaves a man
but poor,
And with her poverty is exceeding store;
No time is tedious with her; her true worth
Makes a true husband think his arms enfold
(With her alone) a complete world of gold."

Gentleman Usher.

Here is something very beautiful :

'Exceeding fair she was not, and yet fair

In that she never studied to be fairer

Than nature meant her; beauty cost her nothing."

Of Love he says:

"Love is nature's second sun,

All Fools.

Causing a spring of virtues where he shines;
And as, without the sun, the world's great eye,
All colors, beauties, both of art and nature,
Are given in vain to men; so, without love,
All beauties bred in women are in vain,
All virtues born in men lie buried;
For love informs us as the sun doth colors :
And, as the sun, reflecting his warm beams