Chapter LXI

If Hallam, in the intermediate state be exchanging replies with the great intellects there assembled from all time,--"the spirits of just men made perfect"--how dwarfed and insignificant must seem any intercourse with his friend still left here--

"How blanch'd with darkness must I grow!"

This figure of speech will be taken from the blanching of vegetables in the dark. Still, he would have him turn to

"the doubtful shore,[41]
Where thy first form was made a man;"

that is, to this world, distinguishing it from that "second state sublime," into which Hallam had been admitted; for not even there can more affection be found, than I conceived and yet cherish:

"I loved thee, Spirit, and love, nor can
The soul of Shakespeare love thee more."

This is all that even Shakespeare can do, if he and thou be now compeers.