There are a score of other sonnets that we would wish to quote in illustration of the refined thought and elegant delicacy of diction which characterize them all; but we are constrained to content ourselves with one also noticed by Landor for its singular felicity and beauty. It is from his first book, page 268: "Flowers I would bring. If flowers could make thee fairer. And make, if the muse were dear to thee; (For loving these would make thee love the bearer.) But sweetest songs forget their melody, And loveliest flowers would but conceal the wearer: A rose I marked, and might have plucked; but she Blushed as she bent, imploring me to spare her, Nor spoil her beauty by such rivalry. Alas! and with what gifts shall I pursue thee. What offerings bring, what treasures lay before thee; When earth with all her floral train doth woo thee, And all old poets and old books adore thee; And love to thee is naught; from passionate mood Secured by joy's complacent plenitude?" This poem is remarkable to us as containing one of the few recognitions we have ever seen of that beauty which rises above the province of passion, and strikes a dim awe into admiration. They are not many who can feel it, and few, indeed, who have expressed it. The same thought occurs in another passage referred to by Landor: "Men loved; but hope they deemed to be A sweet impossibility." But we have a further reason for preferring this to several equally fine. It is to note what may be another of De Vere's unconscious adaptations. The well-known scholar, Henry of Huntington, addressed to Queen Adelicia of Louvaine some lines which hinge upon the very same turn of thought. The real excellence of the verses emboldens us to subjoin a few of them, that the reader may observe the resemblance: "Anglorum regina, tuos, Adeliza, decores Ipsa rcferre parans Musa stupore riget. Quid diadema tibi, pulcherrima? quid tibi gemma? Pallet gemma tibi, nec diadema nitet. Ornamenta cave; nec quicquam luminis inde Accipis; illa nitent lumine clara tuo . . . ." We are not sure but the mediaeval poet, having no further idea beyond mere laudation, has rather the better of the complimenting. But then praise to a queen would be flattery to a subject. Without trying the rather dubious policy of attempting to prove our taste, we think that upon these sonnets alone we could rest De Vere's claim to be a first-class sonnet writer. If it were not a received impossibility, we should be tempted to call him the equal in this respect of Shakespeare. Of course we admit the impossibility. {78} Leaving the sonnets, we come to a far more interesting portion of the works before us--the religious poems. As a Christian, our author is indeed admirable. He evinces not only a deep, strong, real, and realizing faith, but much fruitful thought over the mental details, so to speak, and a wonderful comprehension of the theory, theology, and mysteries of the church.