For, all degrees And shapes of spurious fame and short-lived praise Here sat in state, and fed with daily alms Retainers won away from solid good; And here was Labor, his own bond-slave; Hope, That never set the pains against the prize; Idleness halting with his weary clog, And poor misguided Shame, and witless Fear, And simple Pleasure foraging for Death; Honor misplaced, and Dignity astray; Feuds, factions, flatteries, enmity, and guile Murmuring submission, and bold government, (The idol weak as the idolater) And Decency and Custom starving Truth, And blind Authority beating with his staff The child that might have led him; Emptiness Followed as of good omen, and meek Worth Left to herself unheard of and unknown. The most remarkable line in the poem, a line almost equal to Milton’s “Thoughts that wander through eternity,” is that which concludes the following passage on the statue of Newton at Cambridge: And from my pillow, looking forth by light Of moon or favoring stars, I could behold The antechapel where the statue stood Of Newton with his prism and silent face, The marble index of a mind forever _Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone_. With the lingering, mysterious music of this line sounding in our ears, it would be an impertinence to continue these loose remarks on “The Prelude” any further; and we close by commending the poem to the thoughtful attention of thinking readers. * * * * * _Christian Thought on Life: In a Series of Discourses. By Henry Giles, Author of Lectures and Essays. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 1 vol. 16mo._