esy, of gallantry, then to fiery passion, to
plighting troth and marriage. Passion beholds its object as a perfect
unit. The soul is wholly embodied, and the body is wholly ensouled:--

"Her pure and eloquent blood
Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,
That one might almost say her body thought."

Romeo, if dead, should be cut up into little stars to make the heavens
fine. Life, with this pair, has no other aim, asks no more, than
Juliet,--than Romeo. Night, day, studies, talents, kingdoms, religion,
are all contained in this form full of soul, in this soul which is
all form. The lovers delight in endearments, in avowals of love, in
comparisons of their regards. When alone, they solace themselves with
the remembered image of the other. Does that other see the same star,
the same melting cloud, read the same book, feel the same emotion, that
now delight me? They try and weigh their affection, and adding up costly
advantages, friends, opportunities, properties, exult in discovering
that willingly, joyfully, they would give all as a ransom for the
beautiful, the beloved head, not one hair of which shall be harmed.
But the lot of humanity is on these children. Danger, sorrow, and pain
arrive to them, as to all. Love prays. It makes covenants with Eternal
Power in behalf of this dear mate. The union which is thus effected and
which adds a new value to every atom in nature--for it transmutes every
thread throughout the whole web of relation into a golden ray, and
bathes the soul in a new and sweeter element--is yet a temporary state.
Not always can flowers, pearls, poetry, protestations, nor even home in
another heart, content the awful soul that dwells in clay. It arouses
itself at last from these endearments, as toys, and puts on the harness
and aspires to vast and universal aims. The soul which is in the soul
of each, craving a perfect beatitude, detects incongruities, defects
and disproportion in the behavior of the other. Hence arise surprise,
expostulation and pain. Yet that which drew them to each other was signs
of loveliness, signs of virtue; and these virtues are there, however
eclipsed. They appear and reappear and continue to attract; but the
regard changes, quits the sign and attaches to the substance. This
repairs the wounded affection. Meantime, as life wears on, it proves
a game of permutation and combination of all possible positions of the
parties, to employ all the