an Ethiop's ear. So, too, when Wordsworth apostrophizes Milton,

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Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea";·

here we have two similes.

But when he

says,

"Unruffled doth the blue lake lie,

The mountains looking on";

and when he says of the birds singing,

"Clear, loud, and lively is the din,
From social warblers gathering in
Their harvest of sweet lays";

and when he says of his Lucy, –

"The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round,

And beauty born of murmuring sound

Shall pass into her face";

in these lines we have four pure and perfect metaphors. Again In Cymbeline, old Belarius says of the "two princely boys" that are with him,

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'They are as gentle

As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,

Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to th' vale."

Here are two similes, of the right Shakespeare mintage. As metaphors from the same hand, take this from Iachimo's temptation of Imogen, "This object, which takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye"; and this from Viola, urging Orsino's suit to the Countess,

"Holla your name to the reverberate hills,

And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out, Olivia!"

and this of Cleopatra's with the asp at her bosom,

"Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?"

Or, as an instance of both figures together, take the following from King Lear, iv. 3, where the Gentleman describes to Kent the behaviour of Cordelia on hearing of her father's condition:

"You have seen

Sunshine and rain at once; her smiles and tears
Were like a better way, - those happy smilets
That play'd on her ripe lip seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd.'

Here we have two similes, in the first two and last clauses; and also two metaphors, severally conveyed in,-"That play'd on her ripe lip," and, "What guests were in her eyes." Perhaps I ought to add that a simile is sometimes merely suggested or implied; as in these lines from Wordsworth:

Thus much by way of analyzing the two figures, and illustrating the difference between them. In all these instances may be seen, I think, how in a metaphor the intensity and fire of imagination, instead of placing the two parts side by side, melts them down into one homogeneous mass; which mass is both of them and neither of them at the same time; their respective properties being so interwoven and fused together, that those of each may be af firmed of the other.

I have said that Shakespeare uses the Simile in a way

somewhat peculiar. This may require some explication.— Homer, Virgil, Dante, Spenser, Milton, and the great Italian poets of the sixteenth century, all deal largely in what may be styled full-drawn similes; that is, similes carefully elaborated through all their parts, these being knit together in a balanced and rounded whole. Here is an instance of what I mean, from Paradise Lost, i.:

"As when the potent rod

Of Amram's son, in Egypt's evil day,

Wav'd round the coast, up call'd a pitchy cloud
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile;
So numberless where those bad angels seen
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires."

This may be fitly taken as a model specimen of the thing; style, and is well worthy of the

it is severely classical in great hand that made it.

Here is another, somewhat dif

ferent in structure, and not easy to beat, from Wordsworth's Miscellaneous Sonnets, Part ii.:

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Desponding Father! mark this alter'd bough,
So beautiful of late, with sunshine warm'd,
Or moist with dews; what more unsightly now,
Its blossoms shrivell'd, and its fruit, if form'd,
Invisible? yet Spring her genial brow
Knits not o'er that discolouring and decay
As false to expectation. Nor fret thou
At like unlovely process in the May
Of human life a Stripling's graces blow,
Fade, and are shed, that from their timely fall
(Misdeem it not a cankerous change) may grow
Rich mellow bearings, that for thanks shall call."

It may be worth noting, that the first member of this no less beautiful than instructive passage contains one metaphor, "Spring her genial brow knits not"; and the second two, "in the May of human life," and, "a Stripling's graces blow, fade, and are shed." Herein it differs

from the preceding instance; but I take it to be none the worse for that.

Shakespeare occasionally builds a simile on the same plan; as in the following from Measure for Measure, i. 3:

"Now, as fond fathers,

Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch,
Only to stick it in their children's sight

For terror, not to use, in time the rod

Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,

Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;

And liberty plucks justice by the nose;

The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum."

:

But the Poet does not much affect this formal mode of the thing he has comparatively few instances of it; while his pages abound in similes of the informal mode, like those quoted before. And his peculiarity in the use of the figure consists partly in what seems not a little curious, namely, that he sometimes begins with building a simile, and then runs it into a metaphor before he gets through; so that we have what may be termed a mixture of the two; that is, he sets out as if to form the two parts distinct, and ends by identifying them. Here is an instance from the Second Part of King Henry the Fourth, iv. 1:

His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution."

And so in King Henry the Fifth, ii. 4:

"In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he seems :
So the proportions of defence are fill'd;
Which of a weak and niggardly projection,

Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth."

Also in Hamlet, iv. 1:

"So much was our love,

We would not understand what was most fit;
But, like the owner of a foul disease,

To keep it from divulging, let it feed
Even on the pith of life."

And somewhat the same again in iii. 4:

"No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house's top,
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,

And break your own neck down."

Something very like this mixing of figures occurs, also, in Timon of Athens, iv. 3:

"But myself,

Who had the world as my confectionary ;

The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men

At duty, more than I could frame employment;

That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves

Do on an oak, have with one Winter's brush

Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows."

And I suspect that certain passages, often faulted for confusion of metaphors, are but instances of the same thing, as this:

"Blest are those

Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,

That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger

To sound what stop she please.'

This feature mainly results, no doubt, from the Poet's aptness or endeavour to make his style of as highly symbolical a character as possible without smothering the sense. And by symbolical I here mean the taking a representative part of a thing, and using it in such a way as to convey the sense and virtue of the whole. Metaphors are the strongest and surest mode of doing this; and so keen