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presence and the power of taste, he might bid adieu to the worship of the muses, and devote his genius to objects less elevated and sublime.

CONCLUSION.

We have now examined the four requisites for writing poetry, to none of which it would be wise to assign a station of preeminence, because they are equally necessary to the success of the poet's art-impression to furnish lasting ideas, imagination to create images from such ideas, power to strike them out with emphasis and truth, and taste to recommend such as are worthy of approbation, and to dismiss such as are not. We have also been daring enough to maintain that poetry, as a principle, pervades all nature, and if the fact be acknowledged that poetry is neither written with that ardour, nor read with that delight, which characterised an earlier era in our history, it becomes an important and interesting inquiry, What is the cause?

exercise of imagination? We should rather say, that its sphere of action is widened to an incalculable extent. Is there any thing that weakens the mind, or destroys its native power? No. The habits of the present race of men are distinguished by indefatigable industry, and general application, and regulated by those laws of strict and unremitting discipline, which are universally acknowledged to strengthen the understanding, and invigorate the mental faculties. Is there any thing to warp the public taste, and establish a false standard of merit? Never since the world began, were mankind more penetrating, and at the same time more extensive in their observations, more universally free from the shackles of tyranny and superstition, as well as from all uniformly prevailing prejudice, than now. It is clear then, that the deficiency in our poetical enjoyments arises from a want of the due proportion of clear and deep impressions. We have not stored up the necessary materials for imagination, power, and taste to work with, and therefore the machinery of the mind, so far as relates to poetry, remains inactive. We possess not the key to its secret harmonies, and therefore the language of poetry is unintelligible

to our ears.

That imagination should be exhausted, is a moral impossibility; because the creation of a thousand images in no way disquali- The silence of our ablest poets, and the fies for the creation of a thousand more; want of any leading or distinguished poem any one quality extracted from a former to fill up the present vacuum in our literaimage, and added to the whole or a part of ture, sufficiently prove the fact to which we another, being sufficient for the creation of allude. The last popular work of this kind one, that shall appear to the world entirely that issued from our press, was "The Course original or new. That power should be ex- of Time;" but its popularity rather resempended, is no less an absurdity in thought; bled an instantaneous flash, than a steady because that being the vital principle by and lasting light. It forced its way in the which thoughts are generated, man can flush of the moment to every respectable only cease to think when he ceases to feel, library in the kingdom-was read with wonand only cease to feel when he ceases to der-closed with satisfaction-and, what exist. And that taste should have lost its is very remarkable, affords no quotations. influence over the human mind, is equally Since this time we have had none to awaken at variance with common sense; because a general interest. We see many noticed with increased facility in collecting and by the reviewers-kindly and encouragingly comparing evidence for the establishment of noticed, and we doubt not their title to such true excellence, taste must unavoidably be- approbation; but we do not deny ourselves come more definite in its nature, and more one ordinary indulgence that we may buy determinate in its operations. Beyond this, them, or when they are bought, look upon we may ask, is there any thing in the cus- them as a solid mass of substantial happiness toms, occupations, or mode of education pe- set apart for our private and insatiable enculiar to the present day, which hinders the | joyment. We do not reverence the authors

of our felicity, as if they were beings of a gifted order, endowed with a superhuman capacity of penetrating into the souls of men. We do not listen when they tell us of our own secret passions, as if we heard the music of an inspired minstrel, nor when they sing of the revolutions of time, as if a potent and oracular voice dealt out the destiny of mankind. Either we have grown indifferent, and heedless, and almost deaf to the language of poetry, or the spirit of the art has ceased to operate in producing those harmonious numbers that were wont to charm the world.

Yet when the facilities for acquiring know ledge are multiplying every day, when it has become almost as difficult to remain unlearned, as to learn, when the infant mind is trained up to the continual application of its faculties in all the different branches of art and science, when the memory is stored with a fund of information which at one time would have been deemed incredible, when not only the ordinary and beaten track of learning is thrown open to the multitude, but flowery and meandering paths are devised to entice, and woo, and charm into the bowers of academic lore, is it possible there can be any defect or disadvantage in the general system upon which youth is trained?

moon. We have attempted to prove, that the same beauty, and the same connexion with refined and elevated thought may still be found in the external world, and that the soul of man is still animated by the same passions and affections, as when genius kindled the fire of poetry, and, lighting up the charms and the wonders of creation, stimulated the enthusiasm of him who deems himself "creation's heir." It follows then as a necessary consequence, that the connexion between man and nature, is not the same; that he holds no longer the spiritual converse with all things sweet and lovely, solemn and sublime, in the external world, that was wont to fill his soul with admiration and love, and to instruct his heart in the feeling of the presence of an invisible intelligence, connected with his own being by the indissoluble bond of sympathy, real or imaginary. Man now studies nature as a map, rather than a picture-with reference to locality, rather than beauty. He sees the whole, but he studies only the separate parts, and to his systematic mind, the vegetable, animal, and mineral kingdoms, are distinct subjects of consideration, scarcely to be thought of in the same day. He looks around him with microscopic eye, and if his attention fixes upon the rich and varied foliage of the ancient forest, it is to single out particular specimens of trees and plants, and to class them according to Linnæus; while from the musical inhabitants of these

same minute examination to the organs from whence the sweetest melody of nature flows. The idle butterfly, fluttering above his woodland path, or resting upon the unsullied petals of the delicate wild rose, has neither charm nor beauty in his eye, unless he counts the spots upon its wing. The moun

If it be the ultimate aim of mankind to ascertain of what materials the world is made, and out of these materials to construct new facilities for bodily enjoyment, that we may eat more luxuriously, move more rapid-woods, he selects his victims, and applies the ly, repose more softly, clothe more sumptuously, and in short, live more exempt from mental, as well as bodily exertion, I should answer, that the present system of education, and the general tone of thought and conversation, was the best that could possibly be devised. But in looking at the means, we are too apt to disregard the end. In devot-tain rises in the distance, and he hastens to ing our endeavours to the attainment of knowledge, to forget the attainment of wisdom; and take credit to ourselves for having spent an active life, when it has been wholly unproductive of any increase in the means of happiness, except what mere activity affords.

We know that nature is no less capable of producing poetical ideas, than it was when gifted mer were inspired by the cool shade, the glowing sunshine, or the radiance of the

examine the strata of which it is composed. The vapours roll beneath him, and he ponders upon the means of their production. The stars are shining above in all the ma jesty of cloudless night, and he counts the number, and calculates the distance of the worlds of light.

All these we freely grant are right and fitting occupations for a rational and intellectual being; but when pursuits of this

kind, instead of the end to which they lead, are made the sole business of man's life, the natural consequence must be, to render him familiar indeed with nature, but familiar on such terms that he is in danger of forfeiting his reverence for the creator, and losing sight of the connexion between the material and the moral world.

We are not so blindly wedded to the vagaries of imagination as to speak of this thirst for definite knowledge, as an evil. Far from it. But when the unenlightened, or the imbecile mind becomes infected with this fever of acquisition; when the juvenile philosopher is merely talking about what he ought to feel; when the puny artist no sooner beholds a tree, than he thinks it necessary to sketch it; when the student of nature tears in pieces every bird and insect that falls within his grasp; when books without number are eagerly inquired for, looked into, laid aside, and never understood; when the finished and fully-educated young lady displays her knowledge of the phraseology of foreign languages, and her ignorance of the spirit of her own; when the youthful metaphysician discourses eloquently upon the nature and laws of mind and matter, and hears with total vacuity of understanding that there is a moral law; we cannot help feeling that something is wanting of the ultimate end of education, and that the mind may be stored with knowledge, and yet be too ignorant of the right means of applying that knowledge to render its possessor wise.

The man of comprehensive mind, capable of appreciating all things according to their real value, will cultivate this knowledge of material things for the sake of the truths which it establishes, and the consequences to which it leads; and will no more content himself with this examination of external nature, than the sculptor will rest satisfied with having discovered the block of marble, out of which his figure is to be formed.

not arise, in the first place from the competition, and the consequent labour that is now actually necessary to secure the means of subsistence; and in the second, from the public mind being too fully occupied with the acquisition of mere knowledge, to allow time for receiving deep impressions, without which it is impossible either to write, or to feel poetically. If, for instance, in the cases already specified, the attention be wholly occupied in ascertaining the precise form of a leaf, where will be the impression of the majestic beauty of the forest? if in dissecting the organs of sense, what general idea can be formed of the melody of sound? if in examining the wing of the butterfly, what observation can be made upon its airy and fantastic flight? if in discovering the component parts of a cloud, how should the graceful involutions of the cloud be seen? if in chiseling out minute fragments from the side of the mountain, how should a deep sense of its grandeur pervade the soul? or if in merely counting the stars as separate spots of light, where will be the lasting impress of their glory?

The modern observer having had little time, and less inclination for the relative ideas which the contemplation of such objects affords to the poetic mind, they pass away from his thoughts as soon as his practical purpose has been fulfilled, and never afterwards are recalled as links in the chain of association connecting the material with the ideal world. When the wild winds of autumn sweep the many tinted leaves from the forest; like the ruder blasts of a less physical calamity, despoiling the fair pictures of spiritual beauty; the summer garniture of green and golden foliage lives no longer in remembrance.

The woodland songster

breathes no more; and the living voice that answered the universal language of nature from the fields, the groves, and the silvery waterfalls, is forgotten. The butterfly that lately fluttered round him like a winged If the question might be asked without flower escaped from Flora's coronet, a spotimplying an ignorant and stupid want of ted specimen of a particular tribe-classed reverence for knowledge in general, we according to its name, lies before him faded, should propose for the consideration of those and lifeless, and dismantled of its beautywho regret the absence of poetry from the the memory of its aerial rambles extinguishworld of letters, whether the defect so obvi-ed with its transient and joyous life. The ous in the literature of the present day, may cloud has passed, and all its graceful and

fantastic wreaths of mingled mist and light, floating upon the pure ocean of celestial blue, like a spirit half earthly half divine, wandering on its upward journey to the realms of bliss, have vanished with the sunbeams that gave a short-lived glory to its ephemeral existence. The lofty and majestic mountain no longer rises on the view; and his towering summit pointing to the sky, the deep ravines that cross and intersect his rugged sides like the foot prints of the retiring deluge-the light upon his golden brow, and the dark shadows that lie beneath like the frown of a mighty monarch whose will is life or death-all these have passed away from thought and memory, and a tiny particle of stone-a grain of granite remains in the hand of the modern philosopher, as his sole memorial of a mountain. Or when he grasps the telescope, and strains his eye to count the stars; before his labours cease, a dim line of light begins to mark out the eastern horizon, and one after another the stars retire before the brighter radiance of ascending day, like guardian angels who have watched the wanderer through his dark, and dubious, and earthly way, relinquishing their faithful trust before the unfolding gates of Heaven. But the mere man of science retires into his closet, and pricks out the constellations in separate spots, better satisfied to have ascertained the perceptible number of stars in any given section of the hemisphere, than to have felt their light, their glory, and their magnificence, reigning and ruling over the midnight world.

We repeat, that no mind can be poetical whose exercise is confined to mere physical observation, and whose sphere of action excludes all those modes of receiving and retaining impressions which are either immediately or remotely connected with the feelings, the passions, and the affections.

The nature of our being admits of two important distinctions-physical and moral. And it is the great merit of poetry, that it constitutes an indissoluble bond of union between the two. We could not have been sensible of the different nature of good and evil, but for our capacity of receiving pleasure and pain. It is thus we learn to love whatever is conducive to our happiness-to hate or avoid whatever is productive of

pain; and it is this love, or this hatred, extending though an illimitable number of degrees and modifications, which constitutes the very essence of poetry and which, were poetry struck out from the world would disappear along with it, and leave us nothing but a mere corporeal existence, unconnected with the attributes of an imperishable and eternal life.

We

It may be a subject of something more than curiosity, to ask what the world would be without poetry. In the first place we must strike out beauty from the visible creation, and love from the soul of man. must annihilate all that has been devised for ornament or delight, without a bodily and material use. We should no longer need a centre of light and glory to illuminate the world, but the same principle of light uniformly diffused, without reflection, and without shadow, would supply the practical purposes of man. The moon might hide her radiance, and the stars might vanish, or remain only as spots of black upon a dusky sky, to guide the nightly traveller, and lead the adventurous bark across the sea. Half the feathered songsters of the woods might plume their wings for an eternal flight, and the rest might cease from their vocal music, and let the woods be still. Rivers and running streams might glide on without a ripple or a murmur-reflecting no sunshine-adding nothing to the harmony of nature; and the ocean might lie beneath a heaven without clouds or colour, stretched out in the waveless repose of never-ending sleep. The trees might rear their massive trunks without their leafy mantle of varied green, the flowers might bow their heads and die; and the wild weeds of the wilderness that weave themselves into a carpet of rich and varied beauty, might perish from the earth and leave its surface barren and unclothed. Of animal life, the beasts of burden, and the fleshly victims of man's appetite, would alone remain; while in man himself, we must extinguish his affections, and render void his capacity to admire; and having moulded the creation to a uniform correspondence with his earthly and coporeal nature, we must leave him to the exercise of his faculties-first, to see, without beholding

beauty-to hear, without distinguishing principle in art, after he ceased to recognise harmony from discord, or to distinguish it in nature. As the facilities for bodily enwithout preference-to esteem the effluvium joyment are multiplied, improved, and reof the stagnant pool as delicate an odour as fined, man becomes luxurious and artificial the perfume of the rose-to taste without in his habits. He withdraws from all famiregard to flavour-and to feel with equal liar acquaintance with natural things, and indifference the downy pillow, or the rude surrounds himself with all that is curious in couch where the hardy peasant seeks re- human invention, and exquisite in the work pose. Then in the higher regions of his of human hands. But still the principles of mental faculties, to observe, without any beauty, derived from external nature, pursue sense of sublimity-to calculate without ar- the slave of art, and he studies how to imiriving at an idea of infinity-to measure, tate the variety, the splendour, and the magwithout reference to illimitable space-to re- nificence, which the meanest peasant may sist, without forming a conception of abso- enjoy in greater perfection, without invenlute power-to build without reflecting upon tion, and without price. duration to pull down, without looking forward to annihilation. And in the vacant sphere of passion and affection, to receive benefits, and remain insensible to favourto stand on the brink of destruction, without terror-to await the result of experiment, without hope to meet without pleasure-to part without grief-and to live on with the same uniformity of existence, without emotion-not idle, for that would imply a sense of the pain of labour, and the pleasure of repose; but perpetually active, yet active without desire. Such would be the world, and such the condition of man, were all that appertains to the nature of poetry extinct.

Perception of beauty is one of the most decided characteristics, by which man is distinguished from the brute. We discover no symptoms of admiration in animals of a lower grade than ourselves. The peacock excites no deference from the splendour of his plumage, nor the swan from her snow white feathers, and the verdant fields in their summer bloom, attract no more, than as their flowery sweets allure the insect tribe, who in their turn are followed by their foes. To man alone belongs the prerogative of appreciating beauty because admiration is graciously designed as the means of leading him on to moral excellence.

There are philosophers who argue against the existence of positive enjoyment. I am ignorant, and I feel no anxiety to learn what they can say to prove that admiration,true admiration, untainted by the remotest touch of envy, is not positive enjoymentthat, when the soul expands with a conception of excellence, unseen, unknown, unfelt before-of excellence, not merely as it re

Were it possible to concentrate the dark features of this gloomy picture into a small compass, it would be in the simple idea of the exclusion of beauty from nature, or of the perception of beauty from the soul of man. Beauty is not necessary to our bodily existence. Nature would afford the same corporeal support, did we look upon her varied character with a total absence of all sense of admiration. Why then is this ineflates to fitness for physical purposes; but of fable charm diffused through all creation, its essence so mingled with man's nature, that where he finds food for admiration, he finds intellectual enjoyment; and where he finds it not, he thirsts for it as for a fountain of excellence, until he works his way through difficulty and dangers to participate, even in the smallest measure, of its inexhaustible supply of pure and natural refreshment.

That this insatiable desire for beauty forms a part of the constitution of man, is sufficiently proved by his still following the same

that which combines the principles of intellectual beauty, with the attributes of our moral nature-excellence which leads us into a new world of thought to expatiate in fields of glory, and to drink of the waters of immortality, it knows no positive enjoyment. For never was the enlightened mind excited to the highest sense of admiration, without feeling an extension of being beyond the narrow limits of mortal life; and this expansion naturally conducts us into a sphere of illimitable felicity. Hence arise the dif ferent heavens which mankind have con

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