tagious. Such a poem as "Terpsichore" (1843) is
inimitable in its suggestions. The lines have a springing movement, an
elastic pose. To appreciate it the reader must "wait till he comes to
forty year." "Urania" has also many fine passages, grave as well as
gay; many of its hints were developed later with brilliant effect in
the "Autocrat." This "rhymed lesson" touches with felicity the
prevailing vulgarities and solecisms in manners, dress, and
pronunciation, and suggests, by anticipation, the jovial reign of a
monarch who at his breakfast-table lays aside his robes of majesty and
sometimes plays the role of his servitor, the merry philosopher in
motley.

Naturally our author's reputation and his well-known brilliancy in
conversation made him a great favorite in society. For many years he
was virtually the laureate of Boston and Cambridge, and produced a
great number of odes and hymns for public occasions. He of all men
seemed to have the invention, the dash, and the native grace which
give to occasional verse its natural and spontaneous air. This
facility is surely not a cause for reproach. Such verse may seem easy,
but it is easy only for a genius. In the lightest of his odes there is
stuff and workmanship far removed from the negligent ease of _vers de
societe_.

A reputation for wit may be as injurious to a poet as to a would-be
bishop. People could hardly be persuaded to take Sydney Smith
seriously, and the world has been slow in recognizing the solid
qualities, the keen insight, the imagination, and poetic feeling of
Holmes. It is only one of the facets of his brilliant mind.

At the dinner where the twelve original contributors of the _Atlantic
Monthly_ met, the part which Holmes was to take was a matter of lively
anticipation. The magazine had been projected for the purpose of
uniting the literary forces of the North in favor of universal
freedom; but Holmes had no part in its direction. Lowell prophesied at
the time that the doctor would carry off the honors. In the first
number there was an article by Motley, a fine poem by Longfellow, one
by Whittier, a piece of charming classic comedy by Lowell, a group of
four striking poems by Emerson, some short stories, articles on art
and finance, and the "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." What would not
modern philosophers give for a similar combination to-day! Still, the
enterprise might have failed but for the immediate interest awakened
by the original thought a