that that had been away! We can all admire dark eyes in woman, but we do not want to be called upon to admire them now. Here we are, in the heart of a thunderstorm among the mountains; the Alps are wild with obstreperous enjoyment, sympathy with the exultation of the hills, glee triumphant over terror, and terror bounding buoyant on the waves of glee. These are the ruling spirits of the time. What have woman's eyes to do with a scene like this?
The true poet's motto must ever be, "Odi profanum vulgus et arceo." But in assuming this badge he merely dissevers himself from the tastes of the licentious multitude. He links himself all the closer to our essential and universal humanity, and his success, however limited his popularity may be for a time, is ultimately secure.
