That likeneth him to his Maker, who spake, and it was done:
Spirit may mingle with spirit, but sense requireth a symbol;
And speech is the body of a thought, without which it were not seen.
When thou walkest, musing with thyself, in the green aisles of the forest,
Utter thy thinkings aloud, that they take a shape and being;
For he that pondereth in silence crowdeth the storehouse of his mind,
And though he have heaped great riches, yet is he hindered in the using.
A man that speaketh too little, and thinketh much and deeply,
Corrodeth his own heart-strings, and keepeth back good from his fellows?
A man that speaketh too much, and museth but little and lightly,
Wasteth his mind in words, and is counted a fool among men:
But thou, when thou hast thought, weave charily the web of meditation,
And clothe the ideal spirit in the suitable garments of speech.
Uttered out of time, or concealed in its season, good savoureth of evil;
To be secret looketh like guilt, to speak out may breed contention;
Often have I known the honest heart, flaming with indignant virtue,
Provoke unneeded war by its rash ambassador, the tongue :
Often have I seen the charitable man go so slyly on his mission,
That those who met him in the twilight, took him for a skulking thief:
I have heard the zealous youth telling out his holy secrets
Before a swinish throng, who mocked him as he spake ;
And I considered, his openness was hardening them that mocked,
Whereas, a judicious keeping-back might have won their sympathy;
I have judged rashly and harshly the hand liberal in the dark,
Because in the broad daylight it hath holden it a virtue to be close;
And the silent tongue have I condemned, because reserve hath chained it,
That it hid, yea from a brother, the kindness it had done by comforting.
No need to sound a trumpet, but less to hush a footfall :
Do thou thy good openly, not as though the doing were a crime.
Secrecy goeth cowled, and Honesty demandeth, Wherefore ?
For he judgeth,-judgeth he not well?—that nothing need be hid but
Why should thy good be evil spoken of through thine unrighteous silence?
If thou art challenged, speak, and prove the good thou doest.
The free example of benevolence, unobtruded, yet unbidden,
Soundeth in the ears of sloth, Go, and do thou likewise:
And I wot the hypocrite's sin to be of darker dye,
Because the good man, fearing, thereby hideth his light :
But neither God nor man hath bid thee cloak thy good,
When a seasonable word would set thee in thy sphere, that all might see thy brightness.
Ascribe the honour to thy Lord, but be thou jealous of that honour,
Nor think it light and worthless, because thou mayst not wear it for
Remember thy grand prerogative is free unshackled utterance,
And suffer not the floodgates of secrecy to lock the full river of thy speech.
Come, I will show thee an affliction, unnumbered among this world's
Yet real, and wearisome, and constant, embittering the cup of life.
There be, who can think within themselves, and the fire burneth at their
And eloquence waiteth at their lips, yet they speak not with their tongue :
There be, whom zeal quickeneth, or slander stirreth to reply,
Or need constraineth to ask, or pity sendeth as her messengers,
But nervous dread and sensitive shame freeze the current of their speech:
The mouth is sealed as with lead, a cold weight presseth on the heart,
The mocking promise of power is once more broken in performance,
And they stand impotent of words, travailing with unborn thoughts:
Courage is cowed at the portal: wisdom is widowed of utterance;
He that went to comfort is pitied; he that should rebuke, is silent.
And fools who might listen and learn, stand by to look and laugh;
While friends, with kinder eyes, wound deeper by compassion,
And thought, finding not a vent, smouldereth, gnawing at the heart,
And the man sinketh in his sphere, for lack of empty sounds.
There be many cares and sorrows thou hast not yet considered,
And well may thy soul rejoice in the fair privilege of speech;
For at every turn to want a word,-thou canst not guess that want
It is as lack of breath or bread: life hath no grief more galling.
Come, I will tell thee of a joy, which the parasites of pleasure have not known,
Though earth, and air, and sea, have gorged all the appetites of sense. Behold, what fire is in his eye, what fervour on his cheek!
That glorious burst of winged words !—how bound they from his tongue! The full expression of the mighty thought, the strong triumphant argu
The rush of native eloquence, resistless as Niagara,
The keen demand, the clear reply, the fine poetic image,
The nice analogy, the clenching fact, the metaphor bold and free,
The grasp of concentrated intellect, wielding the omnipotence of truth,
The grandeur of his speech, in his majesty of mind!
Champion of the right,-patriot, or priest, or pleader of the innocent
Upon whose lips the mystic bee hath droped the honey of persuasion, (21) Whose heart and tongue have been touched, as of old, by the live coal from the altar,
Ilow wide the spreading of thy peace, how deep the draught of thy pleasures!
To hold the multitude as one, breathing in measured cadence,
A thousand men with flashing eyes, waiting upon thy will;
A thousand hearts kindled by thee with consecrated fire,
Ten flaming spiritual hecatombs offered on the mount of God:
And now a pause, a thrilling pause,—they live but in thy words,-
Thou hast broken the bounds of self, as the Nile at its rising,
Thou art expanded into them, one faith, one hope, one spirit,
They breathe but in thy breath, their minds are passive unto thine,
Thou turnest the key of their love, bending their affections to thy purpose,
And all, in sympathy with thee, tremble with tumultuous emotions.
Verily, O man, with truth for thy theme, eloquence shall throne thee with
archangels.
ONE drachma for a good book, and a thousand talents for a true friend :-
So standeth the market where scarce is ever costly:
Yea, were the diamonds of Golconda common as shingles on the shore,
A ripe apple would ransom kings before a shining stone:
And so, were a wholesome book as rare as an honest friend,
To choose the book be mine: the friend let another take.
For altered looks and jealousies and fears have none entrance there:
The silent volume listeneth well, and speaketh when thou listest:
It praiseth thy good without envy, it chideth thine evil without malice,
It is to thee thy waiting slave, and thine unbending teacher.
Need to humour no caprice, need to bear with no infirmity;
Thy sin, thy slander, or neglect, chilleth not, quencheth not, its love;
Unalterably speaketh it the truth, warped not by error nor interest;
For a good book is the best of friends, the same to-day and for ever.
To draw thee out of self, thy petty plans and cautions,
To teach thee what thou lackest, to tell thee how largely thou art blest, To lure thy thought from sorrow, to feed thy famished mind,
To graft another's wisdom on thee, pruning thine own folly;
Choose discreetly, and well digest the volume most suited to thy case,
Touching not religion with levity, nor deep things when thou art wearied.
Thy mind is freshened by morning air, grapple with science and phi
Noon hath unnerved thy thoughts, dream for a while on fictions;
Gray evening sobereth thy spirit, walk thou then with worshippers;
But reason shall dig deepest in the night, and fancy fly most free.
O books, ye monuments of mind, concrete wisdom of the wisest;
Sweet solaces of daily life; proofs and results of immortality;
Trees yielding all fruits, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.
Groves of knowledge, where all may eat, nor fear a flaming sword;
Gentle comrades, kind advisers; friends, comforts, treasures;
Helps, governments, diversities of tongues; who can weigh your worth ?—
To walk no longer with the just; to be driven from the porch of science
To bid long adieu to those intimate ones, poets, philosophers, and teachers;
To see no record of the sympathies which bind thee in communion with
To be thrust from the feet of Him, who spake as never man spake ;
To have no avenue to heaven but the dim aisle of superstition;
To live as an Esquimaux, in lethargy; to die as the Mohawk, in ignoTM
O what were life, but a blank? what were death, but a terror?
What were man, but a burden to himself? what were mind, but misery ? Yea, let another Omar burn the full library of knowledge, (22
And the broad world may perish in the flames, offered on the ashes of its
THE pen of a ready writer, whereunto shall it be likened?
Ask of the scholar, he shall know,-to the chains that bind a Proteus : Ask of the poet, he shall say,-to the sun, the lamp of heaven;
Ask of thy neighbour, he can answer, to the friend that telleth my thought: The merchant considereth it well, as a ship freighted with wares;
The divine holdeth it a miracle, giving utterance to the dumb.
It fixeth, expoundeth, and disseminateth sentiment;
Chaining up a thought, clearing it of mystery, and sending it bright into the world.
To think rightly, is of knowledge; to speak fluently, is of nature;
To read with profit, is of care; but to write aptly, is of practice.
No talent among men hath more scholars and fewer masters:
For to write is to speak beyond hearing, and none stand by to explain.
To be accurate, write; to remember, write; to know thine own mind, write :
And a written prayer is a prayer of faith ; special, sure, and to be answered.
Hast thou a thought upon thy brain, catch it while thou canst;
Or other thoughts shall settle there, and this shall soon take wing:
Thine uncompounded unity of soul, which argueth and maketh it immortal,
Yieldeth up its momentary self to every single thought;
Therefore, to husband thine ideas, and give them stability and substance
Write often for thy secret eye: so shalt thou grow wiser.
The commonest mind is full of thoughts; some worthy of the rarest ;
And could it see them fairly writ, would wonder at its wealth.
O precious compensation to the dumb, to write his wants and wishes!
O dear amends to the stammering tongue, to pen his burning thoughts!
To be of the college of Eloquence, through these silent symbols;
To pour out all the flowing mind without the toil of speech;
To show the babbling world how it might discourse more sweetly;
To prove that merchandise of words bringeth no monopoly of wisdom;
To take sweet vengeance on a prating crew, for the tongue's dishonour,
By the large triumph of the pen, the homage rendered to a writing.
With such, that telegraph of mind is dearer than wealth or wisdom,
Enabling to please without pain, to impart without humiliation.
Fair girl, whose eye hath caught the rustic penmanship of love,
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