[Footnotes]

[Footnotes][1]Philippians, iv, 8.[2]Ὅσα σεμνά.[3]Ecclesiastes, viii. 17.[4]Iliad, xxiv. 49.[5]I found with pleasure that this conjunction of Emerson’s name with Franklin’s had already occurred to an accomplished writer and delightful man, a friend of Emerson, left almost the sole survivor, alas! of the famous literary generation of Boston,—Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. Dr. Holmes has kindly allowed me to print here the ingenious and interesting lines, hitherto unpublished, in which he speaks of Emerson thus:—‘Where in the realm of thought, whose air is song,Does he, the Buddha of the West, belong?He seems a wingéd Franklin, sweetly wise,Born to unlock the secret of the skies;And which the nobler calling—if ’tis fairTerrestrial with celestial to compare—To guide the storm-cloud’s elemental flame,Or walk the chambers whence the lightning cameAmidst the sources of its subtile fire,And steal their effluence for his lips and lyre?’

[1]

Philippians, iv, 8.

[2]

Ὅσα σεμνά.

[3]

Ecclesiastes, viii. 17.

[4]

Iliad, xxiv. 49.

[5]

I found with pleasure that this conjunction of Emerson’s name with Franklin’s had already occurred to an accomplished writer and delightful man, a friend of Emerson, left almost the sole survivor, alas! of the famous literary generation of Boston,—Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. Dr. Holmes has kindly allowed me to print here the ingenious and interesting lines, hitherto unpublished, in which he speaks of Emerson thus:—

‘Where in the realm of thought, whose air is song,Does he, the Buddha of the West, belong?He seems a wingéd Franklin, sweetly wise,Born to unlock the secret of the skies;And which the nobler calling—if ’tis fairTerrestrial with celestial to compare—To guide the storm-cloud’s elemental flame,Or walk the chambers whence the lightning cameAmidst the sources of its subtile fire,And steal their effluence for his lips and lyre?’

‘Where in the realm of thought, whose air is song,Does he, the Buddha of the West, belong?He seems a wingéd Franklin, sweetly wise,Born to unlock the secret of the skies;And which the nobler calling—if ’tis fairTerrestrial with celestial to compare—To guide the storm-cloud’s elemental flame,Or walk the chambers whence the lightning cameAmidst the sources of its subtile fire,And steal their effluence for his lips and lyre?’

‘Where in the realm of thought, whose air is song,

Does he, the Buddha of the West, belong?

He seems a wingéd Franklin, sweetly wise,

Born to unlock the secret of the skies;

And which the nobler calling—if ’tis fair

Terrestrial with celestial to compare—

To guide the storm-cloud’s elemental flame,

Or walk the chambers whence the lightning came

Amidst the sources of its subtile fire,

And steal their effluence for his lips and lyre?’

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