BALANCE OF VITALITY. 151 



sheath, too sharp for his body ;" and the remark is of general 

 application. 



In the case of our old poet and divine, the ' ' sheath/' indeed, 

 proved of tougher material than he seemed to anticipate, for 

 long afterwards, writing about spring flowers (those favourite 

 emblems of fragility), he says beautifully and devoutly 



" And now in age I bud again, 

 After so many deaths I live and write ; 

 I once more smell the dew and rain, 

 And relish versing. Oh, my only Light ! 

 It cannot be that I am he 

 On whom thy tempests fell all night. 



" These are thy wonders, Lord of love ! 

 To make us see we are but flowers that glide, 

 Which, when we once can find and prove, 

 Thou hast a garden for us where to bide." 



Opposed to those who, whether their span of life may have 

 been short or protracted, have lived, like the active May-fly, 

 all through their day, there are multitudes over whose remains 

 the epitaph (from Carnden) which heads our observations 

 might seem appropriately placed. 



" Here lies the man was born, and cried, 

 Lived sixty years fell sick, and died." 



Yet is even this, on our present principle of reckoning, a me- 

 morial by far too eulogistic. ee Lived sixty years /" Why 

 this crawling creature, who ate and slept away existence, did 

 not live sixty years, nor a sixtieth part of them. Only com- 

 pare the weary grub-like stage of such a creeping dullard, 



