“If such his soul’s capacities, “Even while he trod the earth,—think, now, “What pomp in Buonarroti’s brow, “With its new palace-brain where dwells “Superb the soul, unvexed by cells “That crumbled with the transient clay! “What visions will his right hand’s sway “Still turn to form, as still they burst “Upon him? How will he quench thirst, “Titanically infantine, “Laid at the breast of the Divine? “Does it confound thee,—this first page “Emblazoning man’s heritage?— “Can this alone absorb thy sight, “As pages were not infinite,— “Like the omnipotence which tasks “Itself, to furnish all that asks “The soul it means to satiate? “What was the world, the starry state “Of the broad skies,—what, all displays “Of power and beauty intermixed, “Which now thy soul is chained betwixt,— “What else than needful furniture “For life’s first stage? God’s work, be sure, “No more spreads wasted, than falls scant! “He filled, did not exceed, man’s want “Of beauty in this life. But through “Life pierce,—and what has earth to do, “Its utmost beauty’s appanage, “With the requirement of next stage? “Did God pronounce earth ‘very good’? “Needs must it be, while understood “For man’s preparatory state; “Nothing to heighten nor abate: “Transfer the same completeness here, “To serve a new state’s use,—and drear “Deficiency gapes every side! “The good, tried once, were bad, retried. “See the enwrapping rocky niche, “Sufficient for the sleep, in which “The lizard breathes for ages safe: “Split the mould—and as this would chafe “The creature’s new world-widened sense, “One minute after day dispense “The thousand sounds and sights that broke “In on him at the chisel’s stroke,— “So, in God’s eye, the earth’s first stuff “Was, neither more nor less, enough “To house man’s soul, man’s need fulfil. “Man reckoned it immeasurable? “So thinks the lizard of his vault! “Could God be taken in default, “Short of contrivances, by you,— “Or reached, ere ready to pursue “His progress through eternity? “That chambered rock, the lizard’s world, “Your easy mallet’s blow has hurled “To nothingness for ever; so, “Has God abolished at a blow “This world, wherein his saints were pent,— “Who, though found grateful and content, “With the provision there, as thou, “Yet knew he would not disallow “Their spirit’s hunger, felt as well,— “Unsated,—not unsatable, “As paradise gives proof. Deride “Their choice now, thou who sit’st outside!” The poem proceeds in the same lofty strain, till—humbled to the dust at the thought of the unutterable folly of his choice, especially in view of the love of God expressed on Calvary, a love which he had slighted in the happy days gone by—he presents the touching plea of the 31st stanza, the result of which appears in what follows, spoken of by Professor Kirkman of Cambridge, as “the splendid consummation of Easter-Day so closely resembling the well-known crisis in Faust.” XXXI.