[21] The Reverend H. F. Lyte, Vaughan’s enthusiastic editor, best known as the author of _Abide with Me_, reminds us that there was another Henry Vaughan of the same college and the same neighborhood at home—a pleasant theological person not to be confounded with the poet. It was probably he, and not the Silurist, who devoted some verses to Charles the First in the book called _Eucharistica Oxoniensis_, 1641. [22] These deep Augustinian lines are Carew’s, gay Carew’s; and they mark the highest religious expression of their time. [23] Vaughan apparently enjoyed that privilege of genius, acquaintance with a London garret, if we may take autobiographically the fine brag worthy of the tribe of Henri Mürger: “I scorn your land, So far it lies below me; here I see How all the sacred stars do circle me.” [24] The King lodged at Christchurch, the Queen and my Lady Castlemaine (together, alas!) at Merton, amid endless hawking, tennis, boating, basset, and general revelry. [25] Orinda’s own verses, scattered in manuscript among her friends, were collected and printed without her knowledge, and much against her desire, in 1663: a piece of treachery which threw her into a severe indisposition. She could therefore condole more than enough with Henry Vaughan. Friends were officious creatures in those days. [26] This, to say the least, was not “pretty” of Campbell, who thought so well of the “world’s grey fathers” congregated to gaze at Vaughan’s _Rainbow_ that he conveyed them bodily into the foreground of his own. [27] Per´-spective was, of course, the general pronunciation from Shakespeare to Dr. Johnson, and is used with great beauty in Dryden’s _Ode to the Memory of Mrs. Anne Killigrew_. But it is a characteristic word with Vaughan, and it was from Vaughan that Wordsworth took it. [28] Vaughan had a relish for damp weather, the thing which makes the loveliness of the British isles, and which the ungrateful islanders are prone to revile. He never passes a sheet of water without looking upward for the forming cloud: “That drowsy lake From her faint bosom breathed thee!” [29] Sometimes erroneously printed “bowers.” [30] It was kind of the ever-kind Hunt to include America in his enumeration, at a time when the United States were supposed by his fellow-countrymen to have no literature at all of their own. The circumstance that his challenge appeared in the preface to _The Book of the Sonnet_, which was edited by Hunt in conjunction with an American, and published at Boston in 1868, may help to account for the mannerliness of the reference.