This is, of course, on the supposition of the absence of all moral feeling. Suppose its presence, and then there will accrue an excellence even to the quality of the pleasures themselves; not only, however, of the refined, but also of the grosser kinds,--inasmuch as a larger sweep of thoughts will be associated with each enjoyment, and with each thought will be associated a number of sensations; and so, consequently, each pleasure will become more the pleasure of the whole being. This is one of the earthly rewards of our being what we ought to be, but which would be annihilated, if we attempted to be it for the sake of this increased enjoyment. Indeed it is a contradiction to suppose it. Yet this is the common 'argumentum in circulo', in which the eudsemonists flee and pursue. ... POEMS AND POETICAL FRAGMENTS. 'Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus'. CATULLUS. My Lesbia, let us love and live, And to the winds, my Lesbia, give Each cold restraint, each boding fear Of age, and all its saws severe! Yon sun now posting to the main Will set,--but 'tis to rise again;-- But we, when once our little light Is set, must sleep in endless night. Then come, with whom alone I'll live, A thousand kisses take and give! Another thousand!--to the store Add hundreds--then a thousand more! And when they to a million mount, Let confusion take the account,-- That you, the number never knowing, May continue still bestowing-- That I for joys may never pine, Which never can again be mine! [1] 'Lugete, O Veneres, Cupidinesque.' CATULLUS. Pity, mourn in plaintive tone The lovely starling dead and gone! Weep, ye Loves! and Venus, weep The lovely starling fall'n asleep! Venus see with tearful eyes-- In her lap the starling lies, While the Loves all in a ring Softly stroke the stiffen'd wing. 'Moriens superstiti'. "The hour-bell sounds, and I must go; Death waits--again I hear him calling;-- No cowardly desires have I, Nor will I shun his face appalling. I die in faith and honour rich-- But ah! I leave behind my treasure In widowhood and lonely pain;-- To live were surely then a pleasure! "My lifeless eyes upon thy face Shall never open more to-morrow; To-morrow shall thy beauteous eyes Be closed to love, and drown'd in sorrow; To-morrow death shall freeze this hand, And on thy breast, my wedded treasure, I never, never more shall live;-- Alas! I quit a life of pleasure." 'Morienti superstes.' "Yet art thou happier far than she Who feels the widow's love for thee! For while her days are days of weeping, Thou, in peace, in silence sleeping, In some still world, unknown, remote, The mighty parent's care hast found, Without whose tender guardian thought No sparrow falleth to the ground." [Footnote 1: This and the following poems and fragments, with the exception of those marked with an asterisk, were communicated by Mr. Gutch. Ed.]