Relieved from this Inferno the soul comes once more to self-consciousness, and in its effort to guide itself, what more natural than that it should recur to the idea expressed in the fiftieth line, and attempt to make something like order by carrying out that idea. Reason takes command, and the strain flows smoothly, till, by the exercise of her power, the true cause of the misfortune is recognized and a just indignation (line 100) takes its place. But in yielding to this, the immediate feeling regains possession, reason resigns her sway, and the soul is set afloat again on the uncertain sea of association. See how sudden and sweet the transition from fiery reproach and invective to the gentlest tenderness, in line 102. It begins with a thunder peal and dies out in a wail of affection, expressed by the one word “sacred.” This forms the connection between this paragraph and the next, a delicate yet perfect link, for as all his love overflows in that one word, the old happier days come up again; and where should these memories carry him but to the university where they had found so much common pleasure and inspiration. Here the sorrow, before entirely personal, becomes wider as the singer feels that others grieve with him for lost talent and power. Were they not both destined for the church for which their university studies were only a preparation? Most naturally the subtle chain of association brings up the thought of the great apostle with the keys of heaven and hell. How sorely the church needed true teachers! The earnest spirit that was ready to assail every form of wrong, eagerly followed out the thought which was in the future to burn into its very life. From line 113 to line 131 notice the succession of feelings. A sense of irreparable loss—indignation—mark the _three_ words, “creep,” “intrude,” and “climb,” no one of which could be spared. Then comes disgust, expressed by “Blind mouths.” Ruskin, in his “Kings’ Treasures,” very happily observes that no epithet could be more sweeping than this, for as the office of a bishop is to oversee the flock, and that of a pastor to feed it, the utter want of all qualification for the sacred office is here most forcibly expressed. Contempt follows; then pity for those who, desiring food, are fed only with wind; detestation of the secret and corrupt practices of the Romish church; and finally hope, coming through the possible execution of Archbishop Laud, whose death, it seemed to the young Puritan, was the only thing needed to bring back truth, simplicity and safety. Drifting with these emotions the singer has followed the lead of his fancies, and just as before, when light came with healing for his despair, Hope recalls him to himself, till he returns again in line 132, as in line 85, to the regular style of his poem. He is as one who, waking from wildering dreams, collects his fugitive thoughts, and tries to settle them down for the necessary routine of the day. A more