o the Sea-beast; and the Sea-beast stripped of | have already done by implication) as that power some of its vital qualities to assimilate it to the which, in the language of one of my most esstone; which intermediate image is thus treated teemed Friends, "draws all things to one; which for the purpose of bringing the original image, makes things animate or inanimate, beings with that of the stone, to a nearer resemblance to the their attributes, subjects with their accessaries, figure and condition of the aged Man; who is di- take one colour and serve to one effect."* The vested of so much of the indications of life and grand store-houses of enthusiastic and meditative motion as to bring him to the point where the two Imagination, of poetical, as contradistinguished objects unite and coalesce in just comparison. from human and dramatic Imagination, are the After what has been said, the image of the Cloud prophetic and lyrical parts of the Holy Scriptures, need not be commented upon. and the works of Milton, to which I cannot forbear to add those of Spenser. I select these writers in preference to those of ancient Greece and Rome, because the anthropomorphitism of the Pagan religion subjected the minds of the greatest poets in those countries too much to the bondage of definite form; from which the Hebrews were preserved by their abhorrence of idolatry. This abhorrence was almost as strong in our great epic Poet, both from circumstances of his life, and from the constitution of his mind. However imbued the surface might be with classical literature, he was a Hebrew in soul; and all things tended in him towards the sublime. Spenser, of a gentler nature, maintained his freedom by aid of his allegorical spirit, at one time inciting him to create persons out of abstractions; and, at another, by a superior effort of genius, to give the universality and permanence of abstractions to his human beings, by means of attributes and emblems that belong to the highest moral truths and the purest sensations, of which his character of Una is a glorious example. Of the human and dramatic Imagination the works of Shakspeare are an inex haustible source. Thus far of an endowing or modifying power: but the Imagination also shapes and creates; and how? By innumerable processes; and in none does it more delight than in that of consolidating numbers into unity, and dissolving and separating unity into number,-alternations proceeding from, and governed by, a sublime consciousness of the soul in her own mighty and almost divine powers. Recur to the passage already cited from Milton. When the compact Fleet, as one Person, has been introduced "Sailing from Bengala," "They," i. e. the "Merchants," representing the Fleet, resolved into a Multitude of Ships, "ply" their voyage towards the extremities of the earth: "So" (referring to the word "As" in the commencement) "seemed the flying Fiend;" the image of his Person acting to recombine the multitude of Ships into one body, the point from which the comparison set out. "So seemed," and to whom seemed? To the heavenly Muse who dictates the poem, to the eye of the Poet's mind, and to that of the Reader, present at one moment in the wide Ethiopian, and the next in the solitudes, then first broken in upon, of the infernal regions! "Modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis." Hear again this mighty Poet,-speaking of the Messiah going forth to expel from Heaven the rebellious Angels, "Attended by ten thousand thousand Saints He onward came: far off his coming shone," the retinue of Saints, and the Person of the Messiah himself, lost almost and merged in the splendour of that indefinite abstraction, "His coming!" “I tax not you, ye Elements, with unkindness, I never gave you Kingdoms, called you Daughters!" And if, bearing in mind the many Poets distinguished by this prime quality, whose names I omit to mention; yet justified by a recollection of the insults which the Ignorant, the Incapable and the Presumptuous, have heaped upon these and my other writings, I may be permitted to anticipate the judgment of posterity upon myself; I shall declare (censurable, I grant, if the notoriety of the fact above stated does not justify me) that I have given, in these unfavourable times, evidence of exertions of this faculty upon its worthiest objects, the external universe, the moral and religious sentiments of Man, his natural affections, and his acquired passions; which have As I do not mean here to treat this subject further than to throw some light upon the present Poems, and especially upon one division of them, I shall spare myself and the Reader the trouble of considering the Imagination as it deals with thoughts and sentiments, as it regulates the com- the same ennobling tendency as the productions position of characters, and determines the course of actions: I will not consider it (more than I Charles Lamb upon the genius of Hogarth. of men, in this kind, worthy to be holden in un- | sions equalled those of Teneriffe or Atlas;-be dying remembrance. cause these, and if they were a million times as high, it would be the same, are bounded: The expression is, "His stature reached the sky!" the illimitable firmament!-When the Imagination frames a comparison, if it does not strike on the first presentation, a sense of the truth of the like. ness, from the moment that it is perceived, grows This subject may be dismissed with observing -that, in the series of Poems placed under the head of Imagination, I have begun with one of the earliest processes of Nature in the developement of this faculty. Guided by one of my own primary consciousnesses, I have represented a commutation and transfer of internal feelings, co--and continues to grow-upon the mind; the operating with external accidents, to plant, for immortality, images of sound and sight, in the ce'estial soil of the Imagination. The Boy, there introduced, is listening, with something of a feverish and restless anxiety, for the recurrence of the riotous sounds which he had previously excited; and, at the moment when the intenseness of his mind is beginning to remit, he is surprised into a perception of the solemn and tranquillizing images which the Poem describes.-The Poems next in succession exhibit the faculty exerting itself upon various objects of the external universe; then follow others, where it is employed upon feelings, characters, and actions *; and the Class is concluded with imaginative pictures of moral, political, and religious sentiments. To the mode in which Fancy has already been "In shape no bigger than an agate-stone Having to speak of stature, she does not tell you * In the present cdition, such of these as were furnished by Scottish subjects are incorporated with a class entitled, Memorials of Tours in Scotland. resemblance depending less upon outline of form and feature, than upon expression and effect; less upon casual and outstanding, than upon inherent and internal, properties :-moreover, the images invariably modify each other. The law under which the processes of Fancy are carried on is as capricious as the accidents of things; and the ef fects are surprising, playful, ludicrous, amusing, tender, or pathetic, as the objects happen to be appositely produced or fortunately combined. Fancy depends upon the rapidity and profusion with which she scatters her thoughts and images; trusting that their number, and the felicity with which they are linked together, will make amends for the want of individual value: or she prides herself upon the curious subtilty and the success. ful elaboration with which she can detect their lurking affinities. If she can win you over to her purpose, and impart to you her feelings, she cares not how unstable or transitory may be her influ ence, knowing that it will not be out of her power to resume it upon an apt occasion. But the Ims. gination is conscious of an indestructible domi nion;-the Soul may fall away from it, not being able to sustain its grandeur; but, if once felt and acknowledged, by no act of any other faculty of the mind can it be relaxed, impaired, or ditiləished.-Fancy is given to quicken and to begue the temporal part of our Nature, Imagination to incite and to support the eternal.-Yet is it not the less true that Fancy, as she is an active, is also, under her own laws and in her own spirit, a creative faculty. In what manner Fancy ambitiousy aims at a rivalship with the Imagination, and law. gination stoops to work with the materials of Fancy, might be illustrated from the compositions of all eloquent writers, whether in prose or verse; and chiefly from those of our own Country. Scarcely a page of the impassioned parts of Bishop Taylor's Works can be opened that shall not afford examples.-Referring the Reader to thost inestimable Volumes, I will content myself wib placing a conceit (ascribed to Lord Chesterfield) contrast with a passage from the Paradise Lost:"The dews of the evening most carefully shun, They are the tears of the sky for the loss of the Sun." After the transgression of Adam, Milton, with other appearances of sympathising Nature, thus marks the immediate consequence, -Sky lowered, and muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completion of the mortal sin." The associating link is the same in each instance; -dew or rain, not distinguishable from the liquid substance of tears, are employed as indications of sorrow. A flash of surprise is the effect in the former case; a flash of surprise, and nothing more; for the nature of things does not sustain the combination. In the latter, the effects of the act, of which there is this immediate consequence and visible sign, are so momentous, that the mind acknowledges the justice and reasonableness of the sympathy in Nature so manifested; and the sky weeps drops of water as if with human eyes, as" Earth had before, trembled from her entrails, and Nature given a second groan." Awe-stricken as I am by contemplating the operations of the mind of this truly divine Poet, I scarcely dare venture to add that "An Address to an Infant," which the reader will find under the Class of Fancy in the present Volume, exhibits something of this communion and interchange of instruments and functions between the two powers; and is, accordingly, placed last in the class, as a preparation for that of Imagination which follows. Finally, I will refer to Cotton's "Ode upon Winter," an admirable composition, though stained with some peculiarities of the age in which he lived, for a general illustration of the characteristics of Fancy. The middle part of this ode contains a most lively description of the entrance of Winter, with his retinue, as "A palsied King," and yet a military Monarch,-advancing for conquest with his Army; the several bodies of which, and their arms and equipments, are described with a rapidity of detail, and a profusion of fanciful comparisons, which indicate on the part of the Poet extreme activity of intellect, and a correspondent hurry of delightful feeling. Winter retires from the Foe into his fortress, where " a magazine Of sovereign juice is cellared in; Though myself a water-drinker, I cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing what follows, as an instance still more happy of Fancy employed in the treatment of feeling than, in its preceding passages, the Poem supplies of her management of forms. ""Tis that, that gives the Poet rage, Then let the chill Sirocco blow, Whilst we together jovial sit Careless, and crowned with mirth and wit, We'll think of all the Friends we know, We'll drink the wanting into Wealth, The Worthy in disgrace shall find The Brave shall triumph in success, Thus shall our healths do others good, What would we be but what we are?" It remains that I should express my regret a the necessity of separating my compositions from some beautiful Poems of Mr. Coleridge, with which they have been long associated in publication. The feelings with which that joint publication was made, have been gratified; its end is answered; and the time is come when considerations of general propriety dictate the separation. Four short pieces are the work of a Female Friend; and the Reader, to whom they may be acceptable, is indebted to me for his pleasure; if any one regard them with dislike, or be disposed to con demn them, let the censure fall upon him who, trusting in his own sense of their merit and their fitness for the place which they occupy, extorted them from the Authoress. When I sate down to write this preface, it was my intention to have made it more comprehen sive; but as all that I deem necessary is expressed, I will here detain the reader no longer:- what I have further to remark shall be introduced in a Supplementary Essay.* *See Appendix II. NOTE IN EDITION OF 1845. Much the greatest part of the foregoing Poems have and had it not been for the observations contained in been so long before the public that no prefatory matter, these Prefaces upon the principles of Poetry in general, explanatory of any portion of them or of the arrange- they would not have been reprinted even as an Appendix ment which has been adopted, appears to be required; | in this Edition. DEDICATION PREFIXED TO THE EDITION OF 1815. TO SIR GEORGE HOWLAND BEAUMONT, BART. MY DEAR SIR George, ACCEPT my thanks for the permission given me to dedicate these Poems to you. In addition to a lively pleasure derived from general considerations, I feel a particular satisfaction; for by inscribing them with your Name, I seem to myself in some degree to repay, by an appropriate honour, the great obligation which I owe to one part of the Collection—as having been the means of first making us personally known to each other. Upon much of the remainder, also, you have a peculiar claim, — for several of the best pieces were composed under the shade of your own groves, upon the classic ground of Coleorton; where I was animated by the recollection of those illustrious Poets of your Name and Family, who were born in that neighbourhood; and, we may be assured, did not wander with indifference by the dashing stream of Grace Dieu, and among the rocks that diversify the forest of Charnwood.-Nor is there any one to whom such parts of this Collection as have been inspired or coloured by the beautiful Country from which I now address you, could be presented with more propriety than to yourself—who have composed so many admirable Pictures from the sug gestions of the same scenery. Early in life, the sublimity and beauty of this Region excited your admirstion; and I know that you are bound to it in mind by a still-strengthening attachment. Wishing and hoping that this Work may survive as a lasting memorial of a friendship, which I reckon among the blessings of my life, I have the honour to be, Yours most affectionately and faithfully, RYDAL MOUNT, WESTMORELAND, APPENDIX II. ESSAY SUPPLEMENTARY TO THE PREFACE.* WITH the young of both Sexes, Poetry is, like love, a passion; but, for much the greater part of those who have been proud of its power over their minds, a necessity soon arises of breaking the pleasing bondage; or it relaxes of itself; the thoughts being occupied in domestic cares, or the time engrossed by business. Poetry then becomes only an occasional recreation; while to those whose existence passes away in a course of fashonable pleasure, it is a species of luxurious amusement. In middle and declining age, a scattered number of serious persons resort to poetry, as to religion, for a protection against the pressure of trivial employments, and as a consolation for the afflictions of life. And, lastly, there are many, who, having been enamoured of this art in their youth, have found leisure, after youth was spent, to cultivate general literature; in which poetry has continued to be comprehended as a study. Into the above Classes the Readers of poetry may be divided; Critics abound in them all; but from the last only can opinions be collected of absolute value, and worthy to be depended upon, as prophetic of the destiny of a new work. The young, who in nothing can escape delusion, are especially subject to it in their intercourse with Poetry. The cause, not so obvious as the fact is unquestionable, is the same as that from which erroneous judgments in this art, in the minds of men of all ages, chiefly proceed; but upon Youth it operates with peculiar force. The appropriate business of poetry, (which, nevertheless, if genuine, is as permanent as pure science,) her appropriate employment, her privilege and her duty, is to treat of things not as they are, but as they appear; not as they exist in themselves, but as they seem to exist to the senses and to the passions. What a world of delusion does this acknowledged principle prepare for the inexperenced! what temptations to go astray are here held forth for them whose thoughts have been little disciplined by the understanding, and whose feelings revolt from the sway of reason! - When a juvenile Reader is in the height of his rapture with some vicious passare, should experience throw in doubts, or common sense suggest suspicions, a lurking consciousness that the realities of the Muse are but shows, and that her liveliest excitements are raised by transient shocks of conflicting feeling and successive assemblages of contradictory thoughts-is ever at hand to justify extravagance, and to sanction absurdity. But, it may be asked, as these illusions are unavoidable, and, no doubt, eminently useful to the mind as a process, what good can be gained by making observations, the tendency of which is to diminish the confidence of youth in its feelings, and thus to abridge its innocent and even profitable pleasures? The reproach implied in the question could not be warded off, if Youth were incapable of being delighted with what is truly excellent; or, if these errors always terminated of themselves in due season. But, with the majority, though their force be abated, they continue through life. Moreover, the fire of youth is too vivacious an element to be extinguished or damped by a philosophical remark; and, while there is no danger that what has been said will be injurious or painful to the ardent and the confident, it may prove beneficial to those who, being enthusiastic, are, at the same time, modest and ingenuous. The intimation may unite with their own misgivings to regulate their sensibility, and to bring in, sooner than it would otherwise have arrived, a more discreet and sound judgment. If it should excite wonder that men of ability, in later life, whose understandings have been rendered acute by practice in affairs, should be so easily and so far imposed upon when they happen to take up a new work in verse, this appears to be the cause; — that, having discontinued their attention to poetry, whatever progress may have been made in other departments of knowledge, they have not, as to this art, advanced in true discernment beyond the age of youth. If, then, a new poem falls in their way, whose attractions are of that kind which would have enraptured them during the heat of youth, the judgment not being improved to a degree that they shall be disgusted, they are dazzled; and prize and cherish the faults for having had power to make the present time vanish before them, and to throw the mind back, as by enchantment, into 55 649 |