duty or feeling. In Juliet alone we find it exhibited under every variety of aspect, and every gradation of feeling it could possibly assume in a delicate female heart: as we see the rose, when passed through the colors of the prism, catch and reflect every tint of the divided ray, and still it is the same sweet rose. I have already remarked the quiet manner in which Juliet steals upon us in her first scene, as the serene, graceful girl, her feelings as yet unawakened, and her energies all unknown to herself, and unsuspected by others. Her silence and her filial deference are charming:-- I'll look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will I endart mine eye, Than your consent shall give it strength to fly Much in the same unconscious way we are impressed with an idea of her excelling loveliness:-- Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! and which could make the dark vault of death "a feasting presence full of light." Without any elaborate description, we behold Juliet, as she is reflected in the heart of her lover, like a single bright star mirrored in the bosom of a deep, transparent well. The rapture with which he dwells on the "white wonder of her hand;" on her lips, That even in pure and vestal modesty Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. And then her eyes, "two of the fairest stars in all the heavens!" In his exclamation in the sepulchre, Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair! there is life and death, beauty and horror, rapture and anguish combined. The Friar's description of her approach, O, so light a step Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint! and then her father's similitude, Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field;-- all these mingle into a beautiful picture of youthful, airy, delicate grace, feminine sweetness, and patrician elegance.