affection for Charron, that he permitted him by his will to bear the full arms of his family; and Charron evinced his gratitude to the manes of his departed friend, by leaving his fortune to the sister of Montaigne, who had married.  Forty years of friendship, uninterrupted by rivalry or envy, crowned the lives of Poggius and Leonard Aretin, two of the illustrious revivers of letters.  A singular custom formerly prevailed among our own writers, which was an affectionate tribute to our literary veterans by young writers.  The former adopted the latter by the title of sons.  Ben Jonson had twelve of these poetical sons.  Walton the angler adopted Cotton, the translator of Montaigne.

Among the most fascinating effusions of genius are those little pieces which it consecrates to the cause of friendship.  In that poem of Cowley, composed on the death of his friend Harvey, the following stanza presents a pleasing picture of the employments of two young students:—­

    Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights,
    How oft unwearied have we spent the nights! 
    Till the Ledaean stars, so famed for love,
    Wondered at us from above. 
    We spent them not in toys, in lust, or wine,
       But search of deep philosophy,
       Wit, eloquence, and poetry,
    Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine.

Milton has not only given the exquisite Lycidas to the memory of a young friend, but in his Epitaphium Damonis, to that of Deodatus, has poured forth some interesting sentiments.  It has been versified by Langhorne.  Now, says the poet,

    To whom shall I my hopes and fears impart,
    Or trust the cares and follies of my heart?

The elegy of Tickell, maliciously called by Steele “prose in rhyme,” is alike inspired by affection and fancy; it has a melodious languor, and a melancholy grace.  The sonnet of Gray to the memory of West is a beautiful effusion, and a model for English sonnets.  Helvetius was the protector of men of genius, whom he assisted not only with his criticism, but his fortune.  At his death, Saurin read in the French Academy an epistle to the manes of his friend.  Saurin, wrestling with obscurity and poverty, had been drawn into literary existence by the supporting hand of Helvetius.  Our poet thus addresses him in the warm tones of gratitude: 

C’est toi qui me cherchant au sein de l’infortune,
Relevas mon sort abattu,
Et sus me rendre chere une vie importune.

* * * *

Qu’importent ces pleurs—­
O douleur impuissante! o regrets superflus! 
Je vis, helas!  Je vis, et mon ami n’est plus!

IMITATED.

In misery’s haunts, thy friend thy bounties seize,
And give an urgent life some days of ease;
Ah! ye vain griefs, superfluous tears I chide! 
I live, alas!  I live—­and thou hast died!