Sweet name of Mary, name of names save One-- And that, my Queen, so wedded unto thine Our hearts hear both in either, and enshrine Instinctively the Mother with the Son-- The lisping child's new accent has begun, Heaven-taught, with thee; first-fervent happy youth Makes thee the watchword of its maiden truth; Repentant age the hope of the undone. To me, known late but timely, thou hast been The noon-day freshness of a wooded height; A vale of soothing waters; the delight Of fadeless verdure in a desert scene; And when, ere long, my day shall set serene, Be Hesper[35] to an eve without a night. B. D. H. FOOTNOTE: [35] The evening star. EMERSON'S PROSE WORKS.[36] Mr. Emerson's literary reputation is established, and placed beyond the reach of criticism. No living writer surpasses him in his mastery of pure and classic English, or equals him in the exquisite delicacy and finish of his chiselled sentences, or the metallic ring of his style. It is only as a thinker and teacher that we can venture any inquiry into his merits; and as such we cannot suffer ourselves to be imposed upon by his oracular manner, nor by the apparent originality either of his views or his expressions. Mr. Emerson has had a swarm both of admirers and of detractors. With many he is a philosopher and sage, almost a god; while with others he is regarded as an unintelligible mystic, babbling nonsense just fitted to captivate beardless young men and silly maidens with pretty curls, who constituted years ago the great body of his hearers and worshippers. We rank ourselves in neither class, though we regard him as no ordinary man, and as one of the deepest thinkers, as well as one of the first poets, of our country. We know him as a polished gentleman, a genial companion, and a warm-hearted friend, whose kindness does not pass over individuals and waste itself in a vague philanthropy. So much, at least, we can say of the man, and from former personal acquaintance as well as from the study of his writings.