the most subtle intellectual meditations; but Clough leaves them all but where they were, not even half settled, reproaching himself for mooning over them so long; while Mr. Arnold finds some sort of a delicate solution, or no-solution, for all of them, and sorts them with the finest nicety. Finally, when they both reach their highest poetical point, Mr. Arnold is found painting lucidly in a region of pure and exquisite sentiment, Clough singing a sort of paean of buoyant and exultant strength:
But O blithe breeze! and O great seas,
Thou ne’er, that earliest parting past,
On your wide plain they join again,
Together lead them home at last.
One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold wher’er they fare, —
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!
At last, at last, unite them there!
[‘Qua Cursum Ventus’]
It is difficult in the brief space of a review to do justice to a man’s memory, when he has left behind him a great deal of rather remarkable verse, yet without winning the assured reputation of a poet, and many thoughtful papers on a fairly wide range of subjects, without being much of a littérateur or philosopher either. If this is difficult to do at all, it is nearly impossible, while his death is still recent, to do it to the satisfaction of those in whose hearts the personal impress of the writer is yet strong and deep. Clough was one of those men in whom the moral and the intellectual are so finely intermixed as to send to a