It is manifest that Ulrici’s method of reading these plays must lead to a re-consideration of the most important criticisms which have heretofore been made upon them. The propriety and relevancy of each part being considered with reference to the “central idea,” many apparent anomalies will be reconciled, and many imputed faults vindicated. A new value will also be given to them; for, viewed in this light, the masters of eloquence,—the Senator, the Advocate, and the Preacher,—may, from these models, learn how to discuss a theme, or conduct a discussion. The poet rambles through all nature, yet never for one moment forgets his purpose; now he convulses us with laughter, and now melts us to tears; now fires us with indignation, and now chills us with horror; yet ever, amidst these various and conflicting emotions, steadily pursues his _argument_. Every speech is to the same purpose, and yet there is no repetition; and, though he perseveres till the subject is wholly exhausted, our interest seldom for one moment languishes. Let him, therefore, who would see Logic, and Rhetoric, and Poetry in their most perfect form and combination, repair to the pages of SHAKSPEARE. * * * * * SUMMER FRIENDS. THEY came—like bees in summer-time, When earth is decked with flowers, And while my year was in its prime They reveled in my bowers; But when my honey-blooms were shed, And chilling blasts came on, The bee had with the blossom fled: I sought them—they were gone. They came—like spring-birds to the grove, With varied notes of praise, And daily each with other strove The highest strain to raise; But when before the frosty gale My withered leaves were strown, And wintry blasts swept down the vale, I sought them—they were gone. I. G. B. * * * * * LINES. BY GEO. D. PRENTISS. SWEET moon, I love thee, yet I grieve To gaze on thy pale orb to-night; It tells me of that last dear eve I passed with her, my soul’s delight. Hill, vale and wood and stream were dyed In the pale glory of thy beams, As forth we wandered, side by side, Once more to tell love’s burning dreams. My fond arm was her living zone, My hand within her hand was pressed, And love was in each earnest tone, And rapture in each heaving breast. And many a high and fervent vow Was breathed from her full heart and mine, While thy calm light was on her brow Like pure religion’s seal and sign. We knew, alas! that we must part, We knew we must be severed long, Yet joy was in each throbbing heart, For love was deep, and faith was strong.