Shakespeare “glances from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven.” All Nature ministers to him, as gladly as a mother to her child. Whether he wishes her to tune her myriad-voiced organ to Romeo’s love, or to Miranda’s innocence, or to Perdita’s simplicity, or to Rosalind’s playfulness, or to the sports of the Fairies, or to Timon’s misanthropy, or to Macbeth’s desolating ambition, or to Lear’s heart-broken frenzy—he has only to ask, and she puts on every feeling and every passion with which he desires to invest her. * * * * * No poet comes near Shakespeare in the number of bosom lines,—of lines that we may cherish in our bosoms, and that seem almost as if they had grown there,—of lines that, like bosom friends, are ever at hand to comfort, counsel, and gladden us, under all the vicissitudes of life,—of lines that, according to Bacon’s expression, “come home to our business and bosoms,” and open the door for us to look in, and see what is nestling and brooding there. _Guesses at Truth._ 1827. JAMES HOGG, 1831 (1770-1835) “_To the Genius of Shakespeare._” Spirit all limitless, Where is thy dwelling-place? Spirit of him whose high name we revere, Come on thy seraph wings, Come from thy wanderings, And smile on thy votaries, who sigh for thee here! Come, O thou spark divine, Rise from thy hallowed shrine; Here in the windings of Forth thou shalt see Hearts true to nature’s call Spirits congenial, Proud of their country, yet bowing to thee. Here with rapt heart and tongue, While our fond minds were young, Oft thy bold numbers we poured in our mirth; Now in our hall for aye This shall be holiday, Bard of all Nature, to honour thy birth. Whether thou tremblest o’er Green grave of Elsinore, Stayest o’er the hill of Dunsinnan to hover, Bosworth, or Shrewsbury, Egypt or Philippi; Come from thy roamings the universe over. Whether thou journey’st far On by the morning star, Dream’st on the shadowy brows of the moon, Or linger’st in fairyland, ’Mid lovely elves to stand, Singing thy carols unearthly and boon;— Here thou art called upon, Come thou to Caledon! Come to the land of the ardent and free! The land of the love recess, Mountain and wilderness, This is the land, thou wild meteor, for thee! Oh, never since time had birth, Rose from the pregnant earth Gems such as late have in Scotia sprung;— Gems that in future day, When ages pass away, Like thee shall be honoured, like thee shall be sung!