,,on                            ,,poetic
 ,,interpretation                       
,,of ,,nature                           
,,by                            ,j4 ,c4 
,,shairp1 ,,ll4 ,d4        ,,principal  
,,of ,,the ,,united ,,college ,,of ,,st4
 ,,salvator ,,and ,,st4 ,,leonard1      
,,st4 ,,andrews                         
,illustration                           
,,boston ,,and ,,new ,,york             
,,houghton1 ,,mifflin ,,and ,,company   
,the ,riverside ,press1 ,cambridge      
#aijj          ,,preface4      ,this    
small book is the result of some        
lectures which ,i had occasion to  give 
to a large popular audience more than a 
year ago4 ,i have since  re-written and 
re-cast them into their present shape4  
,yet the book still  bears the impress  
of the peculiar object with which the   
lectures were  composed1 and of the     
circumstances under which they were     
delivered4  ,that object was to add a   
kind of literary supplement to several  
longer  and more systematic courses of  

lectures on physical subjects1 such as  
,chemistry1 ,geology1 and ,physiology1  
which were delivered at the same  time  
by ,professors who are my colleagues in 
this ,college4 ,it seemed to  me that   
some good might be done1 if ,i could    
succeed in bringing before  our hearers 
the truth that1 while the several       
physical sciences explain  each some    
portion of ,nature's mysteries1 or      
,nature considered under one  special   
aspect1 yet that after all the physical 
sciences have said their  say1 and given
 their explanations1 there remains more 
behind--another  aspect of ,nature--a   
further truth regarding it1 with which1 
real and  interesting though it is1     
,science does not intermeddle4 ,the     
truth on  which especially ,i wished to 
fix attention is the relation which     
exists  between ,nature and the         
sensitive and imaginative soul of man1  
and the  result or creation which arises
 from the meeting of these two4 ,that is
  a true and genuine result1 which it   

does not fall within the province  of   
,science to investigate1 but which it is
 one peculiar function of  ,poetry to   
seize1 and1 as far as may be1 to        
interpret4 ,that the beauty  which looks
 from the whole face of ,nature1 and is 
interwoven with every  fibre of it1 is  
not the less1 because it requires a     
living soul for its  existence1 as real 
a truth as the gravitation of the       
earth's particles  or the composition of
 its materials1--that careful noting and
 familiar  knowledge of this beauty     
reveals a new aspect of the world1 which
 will  amply repay the observer1--and   
that the ,poets are1 in a special way1  
kindlers of sensibility1 teachers who   
make us observe more carefully1 and     
feel more keenly the wonders that are   
around us3 these are some of the  truths
 which ,i wished to bring before my     
hearers1 and which1 if ,i could  in any 
measure succeed in doing so1 would1 ,i  
felt sure1 not be without  mental       
benefit4    ,as the audience whom ,i    

addressed consisted mainly of young     
persons whose  chief employments lay    
elsewhere than in libraries1 ,i felt    
that ,i had no  right to reckon on any  
wide acquaintance with ,english         
literature4 ,this  will account for the 
occurrence in the later chapters of many
 well-known  passages of ,english       
,poetry1 which to persons at all        
conversant with  letters may seem too   
familiar even for quotation4 ,if1       
however1 the  passages quoted served to 
illustrate the views ,i wished to       
impress1 ,i was  not desirous to travel 
beyond well-worn paths4    ,in treating 
of a subject which has in recent years  
engaged the thoughts  of many           
distinguished men1 it could not but be  
that ,i should often come  across and   
use the thoughts of others4 ,no doubt it
 is not easy always  to discriminate    
between thoughts that have risen        
spontaneously to one's  own mind1 and   
those which have been suggested by other
 writers4 ,whenever  ,i have been aware 

that ,i was using thoughts not my own1  
,i have tried  to make due              
acknowledgment of this in the text4 ,at 
the same time ,i  would wish to         
acknowledge here more expressly how much
 ,i am conscious  of obligation to three
 living writers1--to ,canon ,mozley of  
,oxford1 for  suggestions received from 
his sermon on 8,nature10 and            
incorporated in  my chapter on 8the     
mystical side of ,nature20 to ,mr4      
,stopford ,brooke for  suggestive       
generalizations contained in his        
8,theology in the ,english  ,poets20 and
 to ,mr4 ,leslie ,stephen for some true 
and new thoughts in his  recent ,essay  
on ,wordsworth's ,ethics2 some thoughts 
derived from the two  latter writers ,i 
have tried to interweave into the last  
chapter of my  book4    ,as to the book 
itself1 ,i am well aware how small a    
portion of how vast  a subject it has   
even attempted to deal with4 ,but1 as   
the original  lectures were written1 so 
this book is meant1 mainly for the      

young4 ,if1  however1 it should induce  
any of these to look on the outward     
world with  more heedful and thoughtful 
eyes1 and to win thence for themselves  
finer  observations1 and deeper delight1
 it will have served a good end4        
,,st ,,salvator',s ,,college1 ,,st4     
,,andrews1              ,june #ab1      
#ahgg4          ,,contents4             
,,page                                  
,,chapter ,i4        ,,the ,,sources    
,,of ,,poetry                           
#aa                                     
,,chapter ,,ii4        ,,the ,,poetic   
,,feeling ,,awakened ,,by ,,the ,,world 
,,of ,,nature                  #cb      
,,chapter ,,iii4        ,,poetic ,,and  
,,scientific ,,wonder                   
#df                                     
,,chapter ,,iv4        ,,will ,,science 
,,put ,,out ,,poetry8                   
#eg                                     
,,chapter ,v4        ,,how ,,far        
,,science ,,may ,,modify ,,poetry       
#fd                                     

,,chapter ,,vi4        ,,the ,,mystical 
,,side ,,of ,,nature                    
#gg                                     
,,chapter ,,vii4        ,,primeval      
,,imagination ,,working ,,on            
,,nature--,,language ,,and ,,mythology  
#hg                                     
,,chapter ,,viii4        ,,some ,,of    
,,the ,,ways ,,in ,,which ,,poets ,,deal
 ,,with ,,nature                   #ajb 
,,chapter ,,ix4        ,,nature ,,in    
,,hebrew ,,poetry1 ,,and ,,in ,,homer   
#acf                                    
,,chapter ,x4        ,,nature ,,in      
,,lucretius ,,and ,,virgil              
#aec                                    
,,chapter ,,xi4        ,,nature ,,in    
,,chaucer1 ,,shakespeare1 ,,and ,,milton
                         #agj           
,,chapter ,,xii4        ,,return ,,to   
,,nature ,,begun ,,by ,,allan ,,ramsay  
,,and ,,thomson                 #aic    
,,chapter ,,xiii4        ,,nature ,,in  
,,collins1 ,,gray1 ,,goldsmith1         
,,cowper1 ,,and ,,burns                 

#bje                                    
,,chapter ,,xiv4        ,,wordsworth    
,,as ,,an ,,interpreter ,,of ,,nature   
#bce          ,,the ,,poetic            
,,interpretation ,,of ,,nature4         
,,chapter ,i4    ,,the ,,sources ,,of   
,,poetry4      ,poetry1 we are often    
told1 has two great objects with which  
it deals1  two substances out of which  
alone it weaves its many-colored        
fabric--,man  and ,nature4 ,yet such a  
statement seems hardly adequate4 ,for is
 there not  in all high ,poetry1 whether
 it deals with ,nature or with ,man1    
continual  reference1 now latent1 now   
expressed1 to something which is beyond 
and  above both8 ,this reference has    
taken many shapes1 and uttered itself   
in many ways1 according to the belief   
and civilization of each age and        
country4 ,but by whatever mists and     
obstructions it has been colored and    
refracted1 it has never been wholly     
absent from true ,poetry1 and has  been 
working itself clearer1 and making      

itself more powerfully felt1 as  the    
world grows older4 ,the ,higher ,life   
encompassing the life both of ,man  and 
of ,nature2 the deeper ,foundation on   
which both ultimately repose2  the      
omnipresent ,power which binds both     
together1 and makes them work in  unison
 toward some further end1--this has been
 a truth ever present in the  highest   
,poetry1 to which great ,poets have     
always witnessed4 ,therefore1  even in  
the most summary view of the domain of  
,poetry1 we must not omit  this         
invisible but most powerful element4 ,to
 express it clearly1 we must  say that  
,poetry has three objects1 which in     
varying degrees enter into  it1--,man1  
,nature1 and ,god4 ,the presence of this
 last pervades all great  ,poetry1      
whether it lifts an eye of reverence    
directly towards ,himself1  or whether  
the presence be only indirectly felt1 as
 the centre to which  all deep thoughts 
about ,man and ,nature ultimately tend4 
,regarded in this  view1 the field over 

which ,poetry ranges becomes coextensive
 with the  domain of ,philosophy1 and   
indeed of ,theology4 ,dissimilar1 often 
opposed1  as is the procedure of        
,poetry1 of ,philosophy1 and of         
,theology1 different  as are the        
faculties which each calls into play1   
and the mode in which  these faculties  
deal with their objects1 yet the hinges 
on which all  alike turn1 the cardinal  
conceptions on which their eye is fixed1
 are  fundamentally the same4 ,while    
,philosophy and ,theology1 in their     
striving  to attain distinct            
conceptions1 are forced to deal with    
these great  ideas separately1 and to   
keep them systematically apart1 ,poetry1
 on the  other hand1 under the fusing   
and blending power of imagination1 is1  
in  its highest mood1 pervaded by a     
continual reference to all the three at 
once1 and will at times combine and     
flash them all at once upon the soul  in
 one inspired line4    ,it is1 however1 
of only one of these three main objects 

of ,poetry that  ,i now propose to      
treat--the action of ,poetry on external
 ,nature1 the way  in which the poets   
deal with the outward world4 ,in doing  
this it will  appear at a glance1 and   
will become more clear in the sequel1   
that it  is impossible to isolate this  
one aspect of ,poetry2 that1 even when  
the  poet's regards are mainly turned   
toward the outward world1 the sense  of 
,god and of man is not far away4 ,but   
even when we do our best to  limit the  
subject as far as may be1 it is so vast 
in itself and in its  ramifications1    
that1 far from hoping to exhaust it in  
these few pages1  ,i shall be well      
content if1 when they are finished1 it  
is found that a  few avenues of thought 
have been opened up1 a few glimpses     
obtained into  truths which are real and
 suggestive4    ,before going farther1  
let me say what ,i mean by ,nature1 for 
there is  no word which more needs      
definition4 ,there is none1 except      
perhaps its  counterpart1 ,reason1 which

 is used in more various1 often         
conflicting1  meanings1 or with more    
shades of meaning1 each passing into the
 other4  ,by ,nature1 then1 ,i          
understand the whole sum of appearances 
which reach  us1 which are made known to
 us1 primarily through the senses4 ,it  
includes  all the intimations we have   
through sense of that great entity which
  lies outside of ourselves1 but with   
which we have so much to do4 ,for  my   
present purpose ,i do not include ,man1 
either his body or his mind1  as part of
 ,nature1 but regard him rather as      
standing out from ,nature1  and         
surveying and using that great external 
entity which encompasses and  confronts 
him at every turn1 he being the         
contemplator1 ,nature the thing         
contemplated4    ,the same external     
,nature which ,poetry works on supplies 
the staple or  raw material with which  
all the ,physical ,sciences deal1 and   
which they  endeavor to reduce to exact 
knowledge1 subduing apparent confusion  

and  multiplicity into unity1 law1 and  
order4 ,each of the ,physical ,sciences 
attempts to explain the outward world in
 one of its aspects1 to interpret  it   
from one point of view4 ,and the whole  
circle of the ,physical ,sciences1  or  
,physical ,science in its widest extent1
 confines itself to explaining  the     
appearances of the material world by the
 properties of matter1 and  to reducing 
what is complex and manifold to the     
operation of a few  simple but          
all-pervading laws4 ,but besides those  
aspects of ,nature which  ,physical     
,science explains1 over and above those 
laws which the ,sciences  discover1     
there are other sides or aspects of     
,nature which come to us  through other 
than scientific avenues1 and which1 when
 they do reach us1  bring home to us new
 truth1 and raise us to noble           
contemplations4 ,this  ordered array of 
material appearances1 these marshaled   
lines of ,nature's  sequences1 wonderful
 and beautiful though they be1 are not  

in themselves  all4 ,no reasonable being
 can rest in them4 ,inevitably he is    
carried out  of and beyond these1 to    
other inquiries which no ,physics can   
answer3  ,how stand these phenomena to  
the thinking mind and feeling heart     
which  contemplates them8 how came they 
to be as they are8 are they there of    
themselves1 or is there a ,higher       
,centre from which they proceed8 what is
  their origin8 what the goal toward    
which they travel8 ,inquiries such as   
these1 which are the genuine product of 
,reason1 lead us for their answer1  not 
to the ,physics of the ,universe1 but to
 another order of thought1  to ,poetry1 
to ,philosophy1 and to ,theology4 ,and  
the light thrown from  these regions on 
this marvelous outward framework1 while 
it contradicts  nothing in the body of  
truth which ,science has made good1     
permeates the  whole with a higher      
meaning1 and transfigures it with a     
splendor which is  ,divine4             
,philosophy and ,theology we must for   

the present leave alone1 and ask  only  
what is that aspect of ,nature1 that    
truth of the ,external ,world1  with    
which ,poetry has more immediately to   
do4 ,to put it in the simplest  way3 it 
is ,beauty1 that strange and wonderful  
entity with which all  creation is      
clothed as with a garment1 or rather ,i 
should say pervaded  and penetrated as  
by a subtle essence1 inwrought into its 
inmost fibre4  ,the ,poet is the man to 
whom is given the eye that sees this    
more  instinctively1 the heart that     
feels it more intensely1 than other  men
 do2 and who has the power to express it
 and bring it home to his  fellow-men4  
,but if ,i were to confine myself to    
this ,i should not be  saying much4 ,for
 the question would at once be asked1   
8,pray1 what is  ,beauty80 ,and it might
 be further asked1 8,is it not as much  
the business  of the ,painter as of the 
,poet to seize and express the visible  
beauty of  which you speak80    ,any    
attempt to answer the first question1   

and to explain what is ,beauty1  would  
involve a long discussion1 perhaps not a
 very profitable one4 ,at  any rate it  
would lead me far from my present       
purpose4 ,this only may be  said in     
passing4 ,light1 as physicists inform   
us1 is not something which  exists in   
itself apart from any sentient being4   
,the external reality  is not light1 but
 the motion of certain particles1 which1
 when they  impinge on the eye1 and have
 been conveyed along the visual nerve to
 the  brain1 are felt by the mind as    
light1--result in the perception of     
light4  ,light1 therefore1 is not a     
purely objective thing1 but is something
  produced by the meeting of certain    
outward motions with a perceiving  mind4
 ,again1 certain vibrations of the air  
striking on the drum of the  ear1 and   
communicated by the nerve of hearing to 
the brain1 result in  the perception of 
sound4 ,sound1 therefore1 is not a      
purely objective  entity1 but is a      
result that requires to its production  

the meeting of  an outward vibration    
with a hearing mind2 it is the result of
 the joint  action of these two         
elements4 ,in a similar way1 certain    
qualities of  outward objects1 certain  
combinations of laws in the material    
world1 when  apprehended by the soul    
through its sthetic and imaginative     
faculties1  result in the perception of 
what we call ,beauty4 ,therefore        
,beauty1  neither wholly without us nor 
wholly within us1 is a product resulting
  from the meeting of certain qualities 
of the outward world with a  sensitive  
and imaginative soul4 ,the combination  
of both of these elements  is requisite 
to its existence4 ,it is no merely      
mental or subjective  thing1 born of    
association1 and depending on individual
 caprice1 as the  ,scotch philosophers  
so long fancied4 ,when the two elements 
necessary  to the perception of it have 
met1 it is a reality as inevitable and  
as  veritable as the law of gravitation1
 or any law which science registers4    

,and when1 either through our own       
perception1 or through the teaching of  
the poets1 we learn to apprehend        
it--when it has found entrance into us1 
through eye and ear1 imagination and    
emotion1 we have learnt something  more 
about the world in which we dwell than  
,physics have taught us1--a new  truth  
of the material universe has reached us 
through the imagination1  not through   
the scientific or logical faculty4      
,if1 then1 ,beauty be a real quality    
interwoven into the essential texture   
of ,creation1 and if ,poetry be the     
fittest human expression of the         
existence of this quality1 it follows   
that ,poetry has to do with truth  as   
really as ,science has1 though with a   
different order of truth4 ,this  is     
perhaps not the common view of the      
matter4 ,an old ,scotch gentleman ,i    
once knew1 one of the most sagacious and
 wise of his generation1 who1  whenever 
anything was propounded which was more  
than usually extravagant  and absurd1   

used to dismiss it with a wave of his   
hand1 saying3 8,oh1 that  is ,poetry40  
,yet he was one who could see in the    
outlines of his native  hills1 and feel 
in all human relations1 whatever was    
most beautiful4  ,there are1 ,i dare    
say1 a good many sensible people who    
share my friend's  view1 to whom ,poetry
 is only another name for what is       
fanciful1  fantastic1 unreal--only1 as  
one called it1 a convenient way of      
talking  nonsense4 ,to these ,i would   
say1 ,if this be so1 if ,poetry be not  
true1 if  it have not a real foundation 
in the nature of things1 if genuine     
,poetry  be not as true a form of       
thinking as any other1 indeed one of the
 highest  forms of human thought1 then  
,i should not recommend any one to waste
 time  on it1 but to have done with it1 
and turn to more solid pursuits4 ,it is 
because ,i have a quite opposite        
conviction1 because ,i believe ,poetry  
to  have a true and noble place in this 
order of things1 a place not made by    

the conceit of man1 but intended by the 
,maker of this order1 because ,i  hold  
,poetry to be1 what ,wordsworth has     
called it1 8the breath and finer  spirit
 of all knowledge0--to be 8immortal as  
the heart of man10 it is  because of    
these convictions that there is claimed 
for it the serious  regard of reasonable
 men1 and that it seems worth our while 
to dwell for  a little on one1 though   
only one1 aspect of this many-sided     
study4    ,the real nature and intrinsic
 truth of ,poetry will be made more     
apparent1  if we may turn aside for a   
moment to reflect on the essence of that
  state of mind which we call the       
poetic1 the genesis of that creation    
which we call ,poetry4 ,whenever any    
object of sense1 or spectacle of the    
outer world1 any truth of reason1 or    
event of past history1 any fact of      
human experience1 any moral or spiritual
 reality2 whenever1 in short1  any fact 
or object which the sense1 or the       
intellect1 or the soul1 or  the spirit  

of man can apprehend1 comes home to one 
so as to touch him to  the quick1 to    
pierce him with a more than usual       
vividness and sense of  reality1 then is
 awakened that stirring of the          
imagination1 that glow  of emotion1 in  
which ,poetry is born4 ,there is no     
truth cognizable by  man which may not  
shape itself into ,poetry4 ,it matters  
not whether it  be a vision of ,nature's
 ongoings1 or a conception of the       
understanding1  or some human incident1 
or some truth of the affections1 or some
 moral  sentiment1 or some glimpse into 
the spiritual world2 any one of these   
may be so realized as to become fit     
subjects for poetic utterance4 ,only  in
 order that it should be so1 it is      
necessary that the object1 whatever  it 
is1 should cease to be a merely sensible
 object1 or a mere notion  of the       
understanding1 and pass inward1--pass   
out of the coldness of  the merely      
notional region into the warm atmosphere
 of the life-giving  ,imagination4      

,vitalized there1 the truth shapes      
itself into living  images which kindle 
the passion and affections1 and         
stimulate the whole  man4 ,this is what 
has been called the real apprehension of
 truths1 as  opposed to the merely      
notional assent to them4 ,there is no   
quality in  which men more differ than  
in this intensity of mental nature1 this
  power of vividly realizing whatever a 
man does lay hold of4 ,it is an         
essential--indeed a primary--ingredient 
in the composition of the ,poet2  but is
 not confined to him4 ,it is shared by  
all men who are powerful in  any line of
 thought or action4 ,this mental energy1
 this intensity of  realizing power1 is 
the stuff out of which are made all who 
in any way  really move their           
fellow-men4 ,it creates1 as has been    
well said1 8,heroes  and saints1 great  
leaders1 statesmen1 preachers1 and      
reformers1 the  pioneers of discovery in
 science1 visionaries1 fanatics1        
knight-errants1  and adventurers40 ,in  

these and such like1 the men of         
abounding energy1  who have             
revolutionized states and moved the     
world1 the process had begun  with the  
vivid realization of some truth through 
the imagination2 but  it has not stopped
 there4 ,it has gone on from the        
imagination to the  affections4 ,it has 
stirred the hopes1 the fears1 the loves1
 the hates of  the soul1 enkindling them
 and driving them with full force on the
 will1  and propelling the man into     
action4 ,in the ,poet1 on the other     
hand1 the  process not only begins1 but 
continues in the imagination1 kindling1 
no doubt1 a real glow of emotion1 but   
not leading him1 as poet1 to any        
outward action1 save the one action of  
giving vent to what he feels1 of        
finding poetic expression for the vision
 with which his imagination is  filled4 
,in this we see the distinction between 
the ,poet and those other men of        
intense soul1 who share with him the    
power of vivid apprehension1 of  making 

real through the imagination whatever   
truths they see at all4  ,they carry    
that truth which they have imaginatively
 apprehended into  the region of the    
passions and the will1 and rest not till
 they have  condensed it into outward   
action4 ,he keeps the truths which he   
sees  within the confines of            
imagination1 and is impelled by his     
peculiar  nature to seek a vehicle for  
it1 not in action but in song1 or in    
some  other form of artistic expression4
 ,and hence the practical danger which  
besets the ,poet1 and indeed all sthetic
 and literary men1 of becoming  unreal1 
if that truth which they see and        
cultivate for artistic purposes  they   
never try to embody in any form of      
practical action1 any common  purpose   
with their fellow-men4    ,if then it be
 asked what are the proper objects of   
,poetry1 what is the  proper field for  
the exercise of the ,poet's art1 the    
answer1 supposing  what ,i have said to 
be true1 is1 the whole range of         

existence2 wherever  the sensations1    
thoughts1 feelings of man can travel1   
there the ,poet may  be at his side1 and
 find material for his faculties to work
 on4 ,the one  condition of his working 
is1 that the object pass out of the     
region of  mere dry fact1 or abstract   
notion1 into the warm and breathing     
realm of  imagination4 ,what the mental 
process is by which objects cease to be 
mere  dead facts1 informations1 and     
become imaged into living realities1 ,i 
stay  not to inquire4 ,the whole        
philosophy of ,imagination is a subject 
on which  the metaphysicians have as yet
 said little that is helpful4    ,with  
regard to the working of ,imagination   
and other so-called faculties1          
,philosophers1 ,i rather think1 have cut
 and carved our mental nature with  too 
keen a knife4 ,they have 8murdered to   
dissect40 ,our books lay it down1  for  
instance1 as an axiom1 that a definite  
act of the pure understanding  must     
needs precede every movement of the     

affections1 that we must form  a        
distinct conception of a thing as       
pleasant before we can desire it1  that 
we must first judge a character to be   
noble1 before admiration of  it can be  
awakened4 ,i am not sure that this is   
the true account of the  matter1 am not 
convinced that the understanding unmixed
 with feeling1 the  pure intelligence   
untouched by sentiment1 must first      
decide before the  affections can be    
moved4 ,is it so clear that in all cases
 we can separate  knowledge from        
affection8 ,is there not a large field  
of truth--namely1  moral truths1 in     
which we cannot do so--into which the   
affections must  actively enter before  
any judgment can be formed8 ,for1 as has
 been  said1#a 8,the affections         
themselves are a kind of understanding2 
we  cannot understand without them4     
,affection is a part of insight2 it is  
required to understand the facts of the 
case4 ,the moral affections1 e4  g41 are
 the very instruments by which we       

intellectually apprehend good  and high 
human character4 ,all admiration is     
affection--the admiration of  virtue1   
the admiration of nature4 ,affection    
itself then is a kind of  intelligence1 
and we cannot separate the feeling in   
our nature from the  reason4 ,feeling is
 necessary for comprehension1 and we    
cannot know what  embrace particular    
instance of goodness is1 we cannot      
embrace the true  conception of goodness
 in general1 without it40    ,if this be
 true of moral apprehension1 if in this 
intelligence and  affection are so      
coincident1 so interpenetrate each      
other1 that we cannot  say which is     
first1 which last1 where the one ends1  
the other begins1  the same truth holds 
good in imaginative apprehension4 ,here1
 too1 there  is not first a cut-and-dry 
intellectual act1 and then a succeeding 
emotion4 ,from the first1 in every act  
of the imagination1 these two  elements 
are present simultaneously2 though it is
 true that in time the  emotional       

element tends to grow stronger than the 
intellectual1 sometimes  even overpowers
 it4 ,imagination in its essence seems  
to be1 from the  first1 intellect and   
feeling blended and interpenetrating    
each other4  ,thus it would seem that   
purely intellectual acts belong to the  
surface  and outside of our nature1--as 
you pass onward to the depths1 the more 
vital places of the soul1 the           
intellectual1 the emotional1 and the    
moral  elements are all equally at      
work1--and this in virtue of their      
greater  reality1 their more essential  
truth1 their nearer contact with the    
centre  of things4 ,to this region      
belong all acts of high imagination--the
 region  intermediate between pure      
understanding and moral affection1      
partaking of  both elements1 looking    
equally both ways4    ,but it is not    
with the philosophy of the process1 but 
with the results  that we have now to   
do4 ,all men possess this power of      
vitalizing  knowledge in some measure4  

,the mental qualities which go to make  
the  ,poet have nothing exclusive or    
exceptional in them4 ,they differ       
nothing  in kind from those of other    
men--only in degree4 ,as one well       
entitled to  speak for the ,poets has   
told us1--the ,poet1 the man of vivid   
soul shares  the same interests1        
sympathies1 feelings as other men1 only 
he has them  more intensely4 8,he is    
distinguished from other men1 not by any
 peculiar  gifts1 but by greater        
promptness and intensity in thinking and
 feeling  those things which other men  
think and feel1 and by a greater power  
of  expressing such thoughts and        
feelings as are produced in him40#b     
,i have said that the range of ,poetry  
is boundless as the universe4  ,whenever
 the soul comes into living contact with
 fact and truth1 whenever  it realizes  
these with more than common vividness1  
there arises a thrill  of joy1 a glow of
 emotion4 ,and the expression of that   
thrill1 that  glow1 is ,poetry4 ,the    

range of poetic emotion may thus be as  
wide as the  range of human thought1 as 
existence4 ,it does not follow from this
 that  all objects are alike fit to     
awaken poetry4 ,the nobler the objects  
the  nobler will be the poetry they     
awaken1 when they fall on the heart of  
a true poet4 ,but though this be so1 yet
 poetry may be found springing  up in   
the most unlikely places1 among what    
seem the driest efforts  of human       
thought1 just as you may see the intense
 blue of the ,alpine  forget-me-not#c   
lighting up the darkest crevices1 or the
 most bare and  inaccessible ledges of  
the mountain precipice4    ,in          
illustration of this1 let me give an    
anecdote which ,i lately read in  one of
 ,canon ,liddon's sermons in ,st4       
,paul's3--8,why do you sit up so late   
at night80 was a question put to an     
eminent mathematician4 8,to enjoy       
myself10 was the reply4 8,but how can   
that be8 ,i thought you spent your  time
 in working out problems40 8,so ,i do1  

and that is my enjoyment10  answered the
 mathematician4 8,depend upon it10 he   
added1 8those lose a  form of enjoyment 
too keen and sweet to be described1 who 
do not know1  after long effort1 what is
 the joy of recognizing the agreement   
between  two mathematical formul40 ,if1 
in such moments of profound             
satisfaction1  our mathematician had    
added to his other powers the power     
adequately to  utter the joy of his     
8eureka10 the expression of it would1 no
 doubt1  have been a high poem4 8,poetry
 is the blossom and fragrancy of all    
human  knowledge1 human thoughts1 human 
passions1 emotions1 language10#d or it  
is the fine wine that is served at the  
banquet of human life4 ,and what is     
true of mathematical is still more true 
of other forms of truth4 ,whenever  a   
soul comes into vivid contact with it1  
there springs up that emotion  which is 
the essence of ,poetry4 ,and that this  
contact is so delightful1  that all     
truth and the human soul are so akin1   

that when they recognize  each other1   
the immediate result is this thrill of  
joy1 this pure and  high emotion1 what  
does not this fact hint of the nature of
 the soul and  its origin8    ,we now   
then say that as ,physical ,science     
explains the appearances of  the        
material world solely by the properties 
of matter1 and it is its  business to do
 so1 so ,poetry seizes the relation of  
outward objects to  the soul and        
expresses this1 and it is its business  
to do so4 ,physical  ,science deals with
 the outward object alone4 ,poetry has  
to do with the  object plus the soul of 
man4 ,or1 to put it otherwise3 from the 
meeting  and combined action of these   
two forces1 the outward object and the  
soul1 there arises a creation1 or       
emanation1 different from either1 but   
partaking of the nature of both4 ,and it
 is the business of true poetry  to     
express this4 ,any real object1 vividly 
apprehended1 we thus see1 will  awaken  
in an intelligent and emotional being a 

response which is the  beginning of     
poetry4 ,the depth and breadth and      
volume of that response  will1 of       
course1 be proportioned to the nobility 
of the object which  evokes it1 and to  
the responsive capacity of the mind to  
which it makes  its appeal4 ,and if it  
be asked1 ,how are we to estimate the   
nobility of  any object8 we may say that
 its measure will be the variety and    
strength  and elevation of the emotions 
which it has the power of evoking in    
those  spirits which are most finely    
touched4 ,the deeper1 the larger1 the   
higher  the object presented to a soul  
fitted to receive it1 the greater will  
be  the body of emotion with which that 
soul will respond to it1 the finer  will
 be the poetry which is the expression  
of that emotion4    ,all delight we know
 on earth arises1 as the wise ,bishop   
,butler has told  us1 8from a faculty   
having its proper object10 and the      
perfection of  happiness would consist  
8in all the faculties having found their

 full  and adequate object40 ,if then   
those partial objects1 those shadows of 
perfection1 which are the highest       
objects vouchsafed to us here1 awaken   
in us a keen responsive thrill of       
emotion1 whose fittest utterance is     
song1 what shall it be for a human soul 
to be admitted to the vision of  ,him   
8who alone is an object1 an infinitely  
more than adequate object to  our most  
exalted faculties--an adequate supply to
 all the capacities of  our souls1 a    
subject to the understanding1 an object 
to the affections40  ,in the            
contemplation of this truth long        
pondered1 the deep heart of the         
philosophic ,bishop breaks forth into a 
strain of meditation in which the       
conflict between intense feeling and his
 habitual self-restraint seems  almost  
to overpower him4 ,and what a view does 
this give of the essential  permanence  
of ,poetry1 how in the essence it must  
be eternal as the soul  of man6 ,it     
seems to open a glimpse into the meaning

 of the mysterious  imagery of the      
,apocalypse1 and to hint how it will be 
that the joy of the  ,redeemed before   
the ,throne can utter itself only in    
that new song which  none can learn but 
they4           99       99       99    
99       99    ,thus far ,i have spoken 
only of the feeling or emotion which    
generates  ,poetry4 ,little or nothing  
has been said of that other side--the   
expression  of the feeling in words4    
,the mathematician of whom ,i have      
spoken was  not1 for all his joy1 a     
poet4 ,why8 ,because though he had the  
material of  poetry within him in the   
intense joy1 he had not the power of    
putting  it forth1 of making it audible4
 ,he kept all the delight to himself1   
and  could not by utterance impart it to
 others4 ,he was at best but a dumb     
poet--a poet 8in posse10 not a poet 8in 
esse10 as the ,schoolmen speak4  ,and   
the question arises1 ,is not a dumb     
,poet a contradiction in terms8 is  it  
not of the very essence of a poet that  

he should be vocal8 ,is it not  in this1
 his power of voicing his emotion1      
rather than in his power of  feeling it1
 that he is distinguished from common   
men8 ,here we come on a  great          
controversy on which ,i shall not       
venture to dogmatize4 ,wordsworth1  we  
all remember1 held that                 
8,many are the poets that are sown      
,by ,nature2 men endowed with highest   
gifts1      ,the vision and the faculty 
divine2      ,yet wanting the           
accomplishment of verse40    ,but       
,goethe and many others with him hold   
that without the power of poetic        
expression there can be no poet2 that as
 well might you speak of a  child being 
born which was a mind without a body1 as
 of poetry existing  in the soul which  
does not embody itself in language2     
that1 if we are  to divide ,poetry into 
essence and expression1 the garment of  
musical  words is indeed the more       
essential of the two--or rather1 that   
,poetry  is non-existent till it has    

clothed itself in words2 that in the    
true  poet the emotion and the          
expression of it come into being at     
once1 and  are one4 ,to this side       
,coleridge1 ,i believe1 would lean1 for 
we find him  saying--8,the sense of     
musical delight1 with the power of      
producing it1 is  a gift of imagination1
 and 444 may be cultivated and improved1
 but can  never be learned40    ,on the 
whole1 then1 without deciding whether   
the essence of the poetic  nature lies  
in the capacity of feeling the emotion1 
and brooding over the  shaping thought1 
or in the power of projecting it in     
words1 this may be  said3--,even if the 
potential poet may be silent1 the actual
 poet must add  the power of embodying  
his emotion in melodious words4 ,and    
this from no  conventional artifice of  
literature2 but because1 before the     
existence of  any literature1 the       
natural expression of strong emotion is 
a chant1 a  song4 ,there is an essential
 kinship between the waves of excited   

feeling  within the breast1 the heaving 
of the soul under the power of emotion1 
and a corresponding rhythmical cadence  
in the words which utter it4 ,song  or  
chant and emotion are as intrinsically  
allied as word and thought4  ,the poet  
is the man whose emotions1 intenser than
 those of other men1  naturally find a  
vent for themselves in some form of     
harmonious words1  whether this be the  
form of metre or of balanced and musical
 prose4 ,the  rhythmical vibrations of  
his soul long to project themselves into
 some  sonorous medium4 ,and for poetry 
to lie as it does dead in our printed   
books1 to be read merely by the eye1 or1
 if uttered aloud1 to be read as  one   
would a newspaper1 is as unnatural1 as  
emptying to it of its meaning1  as it is
 for the lovely wild-flower to be seen  
dried and colorless within  the leaves  
of a herbarium4 ,not of lyrical poetry  
only1 though of it  preminently1 but of 
all high poetry1 may it be said1 that it
 is only  then fitly uttered when it is 

chanted1 not read1 and so it is with a  
chant that most poets have recited their
 own poetry4 ,as ,wordsworth tells  us1 
8,though the accompaniment of a musical 
instrument be dispensed with1  the true 
poet does not therefore abandon his     
privilege distinct from that  of the    
mere proseman2        8,he murmurs near 
the running brooks1        ,a music     
sweeter than their own40    ,it is a sad
 divorce that has long been made between
 poetry and song4 ,we  shall never know 
the full power of ,poetry till she has  
wandered back to  her original home1 and
 found there her long-severed sister1   
,music4 ,only  then1 if they could find 
each other again1 and come forth to the 
world in  blended might1 should we know 
the full compass of that marvelous      
creation  which we call ,poetry4        
,,chapter ,,ii4    ,,the ,,poetic       
,,feeling ,,awakened ,,by ,,the ,,world 
,,of ,,nature4      ,if the view taken  
in the former chapter of the genesis of 
,poetry be  true1 if any existence      

keenly realized may awaken it1 must not 
that  material framework which          
encompasses us from the cradle to the   
grave  enter most intimately into our   
earliest and most permanent feelings1   
and color all the poetry which expresses
 them8 ,for are not the visible  earth  
and skies the storehouse from which     
imagination furnishes herself  with her 
earliest forms1 and draws her broadest  
as well as most delicate  resemblances8 
,are these not the substance round which
 the affections  twine many of their    
first and finest tendrils8 ,next to the 
household  faces1 is not the visible    
world the earliest existence that we    
know1 the  last we lose sight of in our 
earthly sojourn8 ,all his life long man 
is  encompassed with it1 and never gets 
beyond its reach4 ,he lies an infant  in
 the lap of ,nature before he has       
awakened to any consciousness4 ,when    
consciousness does awaken within him1   
the external world is the occasion  of  
the awakening1 the first thing he learns

 to know at the same time  that he      
learns his mother's look and his own    
existence4 ,for the growing  boy she is 
the homely nurse that1 long before      
schools and school-masters  intermeddle 
with him1 feeds his mind with materials1
 pouring into him  alike the outward    
framework of his thought and the colors 
that flush  over the chambers of his    
imagery4 ,the expressive countenance of 
this  earth and of these heavens1 glad  
or pensive1 stern or dreary1 sublime  or
 homely1 is looking in on his heart at  
every hour and mingling with  his       
dreams4 ,nature is wooing his spirit in 
manifold and mysterious ways1  to       
elevate him with her vastness and       
sublimity1 to gladden him with her      
beauty1 to depress him with her         
bleakness1 to restore him with her calm4
  ,this quick interchange of feeling    
between the world without and the  world
 within1 this vast range of sympathy1 so
 subtle1 so unceasing1 so  mysterious1  
is a fact as certain and as real as the 

flow of the tides or  the motion of the 
earth4 ,yet1 though truth it be1 it is  
one which ,science  cannot recognize1   
and which she has left wholly to the    
poet4 ,it is his  to witness to the fact
 of this intimacy--kinship1 ,i might    
say--between the  movements of ,nature  
and the heart of ,man1 to represent the 
relation and  interpret it4 ,and though 
he may never be able fully to compass or
 exhaust  all the import of these       
relations1 or to penetrate to the bottom
 of the  secret1 yet it is one chief    
office of the poet to express it1 to get
 it  recognized1 to keep alive the sense
 of among his fellow-men1 and to        
interpret to them1 as best he may1 those
 enduring yet tender intimacies  that   
exist between their hearts and the wide 
world of eye and ear that  surrounds    
him4    ,this mighty process of         
influencing man1 not only through his   
corporeal  needs1 but in the more       
delicate recesses of the heart1 the     
outward world1  it is clear1 must have  

been carrying on unremittingly since the
 earliest  appearance of man on the     
earth4 ,but what may have been the      
phases of  it in primeval times1 before 
history finds man1 is a question ,i do  
not propose to enter on4 ,no doubt1 even
 in the most remote eras1 when  savage  
men dwelt naked in caves1 or cowered in 
abject worship before the  blind forces 
of ,nature1 and lived in terror of wild 
beasts1 or of each  other1 even then    
there must have been moments when their 
hearts were  imaginatively touched1 as  
either the hurricane or the thunder awed
 them1  or ,nature looked on them more  
benignly through the sunset or the dawn4
 ,in  that later stage1 when the ,aryan 
family had reached their mythologizing  
era1 and owing to the weakness of their 
abstracting powers and the  strength of 
untutored imagination1 were weaving the 
appearances of earth  and sky into their
 hierarchies of gods1 ,nature and       
,imagination were face  to face1 and    
were all in all4    ,the other          

intellectual powers of man were as yet  
comparatively dormant4  ,he had not yet 
learned consciously to disengage the    
thoughts of  himself and of ,god from   
the visible appearances in which they   
were  still entangled4 ,but to trace the
 movements of ,imagination through that 
primeval time forms no part of my       
present task4 ,even without attempting  
this1 there is more than enough to      
detain our thoughts1 if we attempt to   
trace1 even in outline1 some of the ways
 in which the human and poetic          
imagination has worked on the outward   
world in that later stage when  the     
three great entities1 ,god1 ,man1 and   
,nature1 were in thought clearly        
distinguished4 ,though in studying our  
present subject it may be necessary  for
 clearness's sake1 in some measure to   
isolate ,nature in thought from  the    
other two great objects of              
contemplation1 with which in reality it 
is so closely interwoven1 we must never 
conceive of it as if it were  really a  

separate and independent existence4     
,however we may for a moment  regard    
,nature by herself1 we must not forget  
that in reality we can never            
contemplate it apart from the other two 
entities on which it depends2  that     
,nature as mere isolated appearance1    
without a mind to contemplate  and a    
power to support it1 is meaningless2    
that all the three objects  of knowledge
 coexist at every moment1 interpenetrate
 and modify each  other at every turn of
 thought2 and that it is to the light   
reflected on  ,nature from the other two
 that she owes large part of her        
meaning1 her  tenderness1 her           
suggestiveness1 her sublimity4    ,the  
tendency to isolate ,nature and to      
regard it as a self-subsisting  thing   
cut off from other existence1 has been  
strong ever since man came  to be       
clearly conscious of his own            
distinctness from the world4 ,in this1  
as in every other realm of thought1     
progress is slow2 it requires long  ages

 to get to the right mental attitude4   
,among the ethnic races1 at  least1     
there were first the two periods already
 noticed--one in which man  crouched in 
blind abject terror in presence of the  
elements2 another  marked by that       
brighter ,nature-worship embodied in the
 ,aryan mythology1  which1 though past  
its prime1 was still surviving when the 
,homeric poems  were composed4 ,then    
succeeded the time when1 on the one     
hand1 the mind of  man separated itself 
from the world and asserted its distinct
 existence2  and when1 on the other1 the
 thought of ,deity1 under the guidance  
of  reflection and philosophy1 gradually
 extracted itself from the visible      
appearances in which it had been so long
 imbedded4    ,when this great change   
had made itself felt1 and when1 at the  
same time1  out-of-door life gave place 
to life in cities1 ,nature in a great   
measure  lost its hold on man's regards1
 and retired into the background as a   
lifeless mechanical thing1 without      

interest or beauty or any intimacy  with
 man4 ,the material world1 indeed1 had  
still its utilitarian value4  ,it       
ministered to man's bodily wants in the 
thousand ways that immemorial  usage    
handed down1 and which science in recent
 times has so greatly  multiplied4 ,if  
the refreshing presence of ,nature still
 blended unawares  with the animal      
spirits of men1 and cheered them when   
they were weary1  yet the multitudes    
cast on it no imaginative regards1 and  
cared nothing  for the poetry which     
mediates between the eye and the heart4 
,this seems a  true account of the      
mental attitude of the great civilized  
communities1  down even to recent times4
 ,and1 notwithstanding the great        
movement toward  ,nature which is said  
to characterize this modern era1 one may
 well doubt  whether the sentiment has  
really penetrated the hearts of even the
 most  cultivated men4 ,such things must
 always be difficult to gauge4 ,yet one 
cannot but sometimes wonder1 if from the

 modern love of ,nature1 and  the much  
talk about it1 there could be deducted  
all that may be set  down to love of    
change1 imitation1 fashion1 and the     
desire to meet the  expectations of     
refined society1 how much would remain  
of feeling that  was native1 genuine1   
and spontaneous4    ,a few1 we may      
believe1 there have been in every age1  
and more perhaps in  this than in former
 ages1 to whom1 in spite of the prosaic 
atmosphere  that surrounded them1       
,nature was something more than a dead  
machine1  something even worthy of      
affection4 ,poets1 too1 were born from  
age to  age1 favorite children of       
8,gaudentes rure ,camn10    who had     
their hearts opened in a preminent      
degree to receive the love  of ,nature  
themselves1 and to awaken it in other   
hearts by the music  which they lent to 
it4 ,yet neither the poets1 nor the few 
apprehensive  spirits who sympathized   
with them1 could do much to make head   
against  the prosaic ways of thinking by

 which they were surrounded4 ,it was    
only  with furtive and occasional       
glances that even the poets of past ages
 were  allowed to look at ,nature as    
they would1 only by a kind of sufferance
  that they were allowed to express the 
tender love they felt for her4 ,the     
feelings which they had in her presence 
were put down to imagination1  which was
 a faculty of falsehood1 and the words  
which they used regarding  her were     
supposed to be tropes and hyperboles    
that had no meaning4 ,the  science and  
the philosophy1 as well as the common   
belief which surrounded  them1 had      
settled it1 that ,nature was as         
inanimate as any piece of man's         
manufacture4 ,and what were a few poets1
 with their weak singing1 a few         
dreamers1 with their flimsy fancies1    
that they could withstand the tyrant    
tradition1 even though1 half            
unconsciously1 all their highest        
inspiration  witnessed against it8 ,the 
instinctive faith of the poet cannot be 

vindicated till1 not in ,poetry only1   
but by ,science and ,philosophy also1   
the unity and the life that is in       
,nature are fully recognized1--till the 
whole visible world1 not in trope and   
figure1 but in literal truth1 is  felt  
to be the embodied thought of a mind    
which is in ,nature and above  it1 and  
which fills the ,universe4 ,not till    
this conviction has come home  to man as
 a sober truth of reason1 can we feel   
that ,nature is intended  to minister no
 furtive1 but a legitimate delight to   
the eye1 to furnish  an interest to the 
understanding1 beauty and suggestiveness
 to the  imagination1 calm and          
restoration to the heart4 ,otherwise she
 becomes1  none the less for all her    
beauty1 to those who fain would love    
her1 a  cruel and all-devouring ,sphinx4
    ,not1 however1 that the poet busies 
himself with the question as to the     
essential nature of the material world1 
or inquires whether there can  be found 
in matter any ultimate and permanent    

element4 ,the analytic  scrutiny of     
appearances is no part of his concern2  
this he willingly  leaves to the        
physicist and the metaphysician to      
settle between them4  ,whether matter be
 ultimately resolvable into             
indestructible atoms out  of which all  
visible forms are composed1 or whether  
all that impinges  on our senses be not 
at bottom one only force manifesting    
itself in  infinite change1 or whether  
in the last resort matter may be only 8a
  permanent possibility of sensation10  
or whether all force may not be         
regarded as the direct and immediate    
action of the ,divine ,will1--all these 
are questions with which1 as poet1 he   
does not intermeddle1 though his        
knowledge that such questions can be    
asked may quicken his sense of the      
mystery of ,creation which he           
contemplates4 ,when poets have ventured 
to  make such abstract questions the    
subject of their poetry1 they have not  
generally succeeded4 ,the poetic        

strength of ,lucretius is not seen in   
his  expositions1 able though they are1 
of the atomic philosophy1 but in his    
vivid representation of the manifold    
appearances of ,nature1 and in his      
broad and profound sense of the one     
universal life that pervades them  all4 
,the poet is in his proper place1 not   
when he scrutinizes nature as  an       
analyst1 but when he unreservedly       
accepts all her concrete appearances  as
 they come to him4 ,forms and colors are
 given him through the eye2  sounds as  
they reach him through the ear2         
fragrances as wafted to his  sense of   
smell4 ,on this side of analysis there  
is enough1 and more than  enough1 for   
him4 ,the outward appearances he feels  
more intensely1 and  renders into words 
more graphically than ordinary men1--no 
other describes  them so to the         
quick1--yet he does not rest in them1   
but passes with them  inward and brings 
them into relation with his own being1  
or rather with  the universal heart of  

man4 ,the ethereal blue of the sky on a 
fine spring  day delights every man1 and
 something of the delight is no doubt   
due to  the mere eye1 to the adaptation 
of the object to the visual organ2 but  
how much more--who shall say8--is due to
 the endless suggestiveness of the      
sight1 even though of its manifold      
meaning nothing may shape itself into   
words4 ,but it is the poet's privilege  
not only to describe the outward  image1
 but to draw out some of the many       
meanings that lie hid in it1  and so    
render them as to win response from his 
fellow-men4 ,it matters  not1 therefore1
 if it be true1 that all men can know of
 ,nature is the  sensations it produces 
in himself4 ,even if this be all1 it is 
enough  for the poet4 ,leaving to others
 to deal with its physical uses as the  
feeder and supporter of the body1 it is 
his to note how it exhilarates  the     
animal spirits2 how it passes into the  
imagination and there becomes  rich in  
suggestiveness2 how it entwines itself  

round the affections2  how fruitful it  
is in resemblances and contrasts to     
human destiny2 what  large              
contemplations and high truths it       
presents to the reason2 how even  for   
conscience1 though it contains no direct
 teaching of moral law1 it  supplies in 
its order and harmony the best visible  
images thereof4 ,in  fact1 quite endless
 is the wealth of meaning that lies hid 
in ,nature1 the  interchange of appeal  
and response that is possible between   
the world  without and the world within4
 ,there is in ,nature just as much1 or  
as  little1 as the soul of each can see 
in her4 ,and in order to see1 the soul  
must have been trained for it both by   
habitual converse with the outward      
world1 and also by converse with other  
regions of being1 with other  teachers4 
,for other teachers are not less        
necessary than the beauty which  lies in
 the face of ,nature4    ,poetry1 we    
saw1 is the emanation1 the golden       
exhalation1 as it were1  which arises   

from the close and vivid meeting of the 
soul and the outward  object4 ,if this  
be so1 the soul must needs contribute to
 the result not  less than the object   
which appeals to it4 ,what then must be 
the power  and quality of that soul     
which is capable of taking in and making
 full  and harmonious response to the   
whole appeal which ,nature is           
continually  making8 ,there must be in  
the first place an eye to observe       
accurately  what it sees1 combined with 
the power to describe this faithfully in
  words uncolored and undeflected2 in   
the first instance1 by feelings or      
habits of thought which may be peculiar 
to the observer4 ,there must be  besides
 a sensibility to all outward           
appearances1 as keenly alive to the     
vast as to the minute in ,nature2 to the
 great movements of the heavens  and the
 breadths of light and shadow which they
 cast1 not more than to  the delicate   
veinings that are in the tiniest leaf1  
to the sighings  that are among the     

reeds1 and to the silent openings of the
 daisy and  the celandine4 ,these two   
qualities are mostly found among those  
whose  childhood has passed in the      
country1 who have known ,nature as a    
household  friend that has entwined     
itself among their first affections4 ,no
 doubt  there are cases of city-bred    
poets1 such as ,keats1 who1 having been 
shut  out from free access to ,nature   
till they were full-grown men1 have then
  taken to it with an instinctive       
passion4#e ,but even in these rare cases
  there will generally be felt in their 
descriptions something exaggerated1     
that shows the want of habitual         
familiarity with the ways of ,nature1   
and makes us feel that it has been      
approached rather on set purpose  as an 
object of artistic study1 than known    
with the easy intimacy of  early        
friendship4 ,if to these two qualities  
we add imagination2 even as  penetrative
 as that of ,keats1 which went to the   
core of all it saw1 even  this outfit of

 qualities would not be sufficient      
adequately to render all  that ,nature  
contains of high and noble4    ,such    
sensuous enjoyment of ,nature1 quickened
 by imagination1 but  unbalanced by     
deeper qualities1 has led more than one1
 and especially  in our own day1 to an  
attempted revival of vanished ,paganism1
 which1 if  made the key-note of any    
,poetry1 is destructive of true         
manliness and of  the highest human     
worth4 ,by such a sensuous temperament1 
the forms and  colors and fragrancies of
 the outward world may be deliciously   
enjoyed  and vividly rendered4 ,but this
 is all4 ,the deeper tones that lie in  
the  silences of ,nature will be all    
inaudible1 unless the ear be overhearing
  at the same time the deep music of the
 heart4    ,for the soul to apprehend   
all that ,nature contains of meaning1   
there must  be present not only the eye 
keenly observing1 and tenderly sensitive
  to natural beauty1 but behind this    
must be a heart feelingly alive  to all 

that is most affecting in human life1   
sentiment1 and destiny4  ,and not only  
this1 but in all survey of created      
things the upward  look1 unexpressed it 
may be1 yet ever present1 toward the    
,uncreated4  ,it cannot but affect even 
the poet's feeling about the most common
  material things1 what may be his      
regards toward that ,unseen ,presence   
on which1 not ,nature only1 but the     
spirit of man reposes4 ,as he looks  on 
the face of earth1 sea1 and sky1 the    
thought1 whence come these  things1     
whither tend they1 what is their origin 
and their end1 must  habitually enter in
 and color that which the eye beholds4  
,it can hardly  be but that a man's     
inner thoughts about these things will  
find their  way out and color the       
observation of his eye4 ,even the       
ethereal beauty  of ,shelley's          
descriptions--his perception of the     
motion of clouds and  shadows and       
sunbeams--his delight in all skyey and  
evanescent things  too delicate for     

grosser eyes1--you cannot read them long
 without being  crossed by some breath  
blown from his own distempered moral    
atmosphere4  ,the 8sky-cleaving0 crags  
suggest to him heaven-defying minds1 and
  his mountains have a voice 8to repeal 
large codes of fraud and woe40          
,byron1--though his later poetry        
contains noble passages on mountain     
scenery1 even the high ,alps are hardly 
strong enough to lure him into          
temporary forgetfulness of his own      
unhappy self1 and his quarrel with      
mankind4 ,in fact1 so closely and deeply
 united are all the parts of the        
universe1 that no one can apprehend the 
full compass of its manifold  harmonies1
 whose own heart is not filled with that
 central harmony which  sets it right   
with ,god and man4          ,,chapter   
,,iii4    ,,poetic ,,and ,,scientific   
,,wonder4      ,but same one may ask1   
,is not imagination generally at war    
with reason and  truth8 ,is not the     
quarrel between ,poetry and ,philosophy 

as old as the  days of ,plato8 ,did not 
he feel this so keenly that he banished 
poets as  false teachers from his       
well-ordered ,state8    ,luckily we have
 not to answer this question in all its 
breadth and  complexity2 we are not now 
called to defend the truth of ,poetry in
 its  delineations of human character   
and emotions4 ,our subject confines us  
to that simpler aspect of the question  
which concerns the action of            
imagination on the external world4 ,when
 the eye rests on the ranging           
landscape1 and the heart responds to the
 beauty of it1 the emotion which  is    
evoked is as true and as rational as is 
the action of any law of  ,nature4 ,this
 kindling of heart in the presence of   
,nature may be said  to be 8another     
aspect of reason40 ,it is not confined  
to any one order  of men or stage of    
civilisation1 but belongs alike to the  
child1 the  peasant1 and the            
philosopher1 if only the heart be       
natural and unspoiled4  ,no doubt the   

imaginative frame of mind differs in    
each according to  difference of mental 
habits1 but in all alike it is          
essentially one4  ,it is a spontaneous  
and unconscious acknowledgment of the   
beauty of  the ,universe--a proof to    
those who think about it that the       
,universe was  made for the soul of man1
 and the soul for the ,universe1 that   
there is  between them a wonderful      
harmony1 the one answering to the other 
as the  harp-strings to the hand of the 
musician4    ,take instances of this    
feeling1 not from past times1 but as it 
may  exist in our own day4 ,the ,yarrow 
shepherd1 as he goes forth at dawn  and 
sees morning spread on the hills of the 
,forest1 feels a momentary  elevation of
 heart for which he has no words1 and of
 which he may be but  half-conscious2   
but in this feeling he has within him   
the first stirrings  of that which1 when
 the poet fashions it into fitting      
words1 becomes  an immortal song4 ,his  
grandfather1 a hundred years ago or     

less1 when  he saw the first streaks of 
dawn strike some lonely peak1 or the    
early  pencilings of light falling down 
into some hidden dell1 embodied his     
feelings of that beauty in the          
imagination of ,fairies retiring from   
their  moonlight dances into the green  
knolls where they made their homes4 ,the
  ,ettrick ,shepherd1 in his childhood1 
was perhaps among the last who had a    
genuine feeling and belief of these     
symbols4 ,they passed with him1 but     
though the symbols have vanished the    
same appearances remain1 and awaken  the
 old feeling1 and the feeling still     
needs a language4    ,so too was it with
 that ,westmoreland dalesman who1 as he 
walked with  the poet ,wordsworth by the
 side of a brook1 suddenly said to him1 
with  great spirit and a lively smile1  
8,i like to walk where ,i can hear the  
sound of a beck40 ,beck is the          
,westmoreland word for what in ,england 
is called a brook1 in ,scotland a burn4 
8,i cannot but think10 adds the  poet1  

8that this man1 without being conscious 
of it1 has had many devout  feelings    
connected with the appearances which    
presented themselves to  him in his     
employment as a shepherd1 and that the  
pleasure of his heart  was an acceptable
 offering to the ,divine ,being40 ,this 
is ,wordsworth's  reflection4 ,i shall  
but add that his liking to hear the     
sound of a beck  was a proof that the   
outward sound had ceased to be a mere   
commonplace to  him1 and passing inward1
 had awakened an imaginative echo which 
is the  birth of poetry4    ,or take    
another instance--that youth1 a shepherd
 lad1 but more poet and  philosopher    
than shepherd1 whom ,wordsworth         
describes watching the sunrise  on the  
,highland mountains3--                  
8,for the growing youth1      ,what soul
 was his1 when from the naked top       
,of some bold headland1 he beheld the   
sun      ,rise up1 and bathe the world  
in light4 ,he looked--      ,ocean and  
earth1 the solid frame of earth1        

,and ocean's liquid mass1 beneath him   
lay      ,in gladness and deep joy4 ,the
 clouds were touched1      ,and in their
 silent faces did he read               
,unutterable love4 ,sound needed none1  
,nor any voice of joy2 his spirit drank 
,the spectacle3 sensation1 soul1 and    
form      ,all melted into him2 they    
swallowed up      ,his animal being2 in 
them did he live1      ,and by them did 
he live2 they were his life4      ,in   
such access of mind1 in such high hour  
,of visitation from the living ,god1    
,thought was not2 in enjoyment it       
expired4      ,no thanks he breathed1 he
 proffered no request2      ,rapt into  
still communion which transcends        
,the imperfect offices of prayer and    
praise1      ,his mind was a            
thanksgiving to the power      ,that    
made him2 it was blessedness and love40 
,as we read such a passage1 the thought 
involuntarily arises1 ,what if the  said
 youth1 instead of being a nursling of  
nature among the hills of  ,atholl1 had 

been college-bred1 and crammed with all 
the 'ologies which  ,physical ,science  
now teaches1 would he still have had the
 same elevated  joy in presence of that 
spectacle8 ,it is the old question which
 ,plato  asked1 and which many since    
have asked down to our own time4 ,in    
#ahdb  ,haydon wrote to ,wordsworth1    
recalling a dinner-party which took     
place  many years before at the         
painter's house3 8,don't you remember   
,keats  proposing #8,confusion to the   
memory of ,newton1' and upon your       
insisting  on an explanation before you 
drank it1 his saying1 ,because he       
destroyed  the poetry of the rainbow by 
reducing it to a prism80 ,suppose the   
,atholl  shepherd lad had been an       
optician1 and understood all the laws of
 light  by which the effulgent hues of  
sunrise were elicited2 suppose1 further1
  that he had been an astronomer1 and as
 he saw the sunrise had begun to        
reflect1 ,it is not the sun that ,i see 
rising1 but it is the earth that  is    

rotating on her own axis1 and now       
turning her side toward the sun1  that  
causes all that ,i now see2 and that    
axis is not vertical1 but slants        
obliquely to the plane of its           
orbit1--supposing these1 and a hundred  
other  truths1 which ,physical          
,astronomy teaches1 had come into his   
mind1 would  he still have had that     
sublime joy8    ,or suppose1 again1 he  
had been a geologist1 and1 as he gazed  
over the  mountain ridges1 had begun to 
think of them as a record of commotions 
that took place in far-back geological  
eras1 and to reflect how the  stratified
 layers of which these mountains are    
composed had been formed  by the slime  
deposited at the bottom of a long since 
vanished sea2 how  they had been        
upheaved by the action of subterranean  
forces2 how some  of the great          
depressions which we call valleys1 or   
those rents in the  mountains1 now      
filled by sea-lochs1 had been caused by 
the cracking of  the earth's crust1     

while it was still a heated mass1       
glowing from the  primeval fires2 how   
other lesser glens and corries had been 
sculptured  out of the solid earth by   
,nature's graving tools1 ice-wedges1    
glaciers1  rain1 and rivers1--in the    
presence of such scientific thoughts as 
these1  what would become of the boy's  
imaginative and devout ecstasy8    ,in  
answer1 it may be said that whether the 
scientific man shall feel  this         
spontaneous glow in the presence of the 
great spectacles of ,nature  or not1    
depends not on his scientific knowledge1
 but on his natural  temperament1 on the
 amount of soul there is in him1        
underlying his  attainments4 ,if he be  
so entirely the man of science1 if the  
intellect  has so entirely absorbed his 
being that he never gets beyond         
analyzing1  comparing1 and reasoning on 
the appearances he sees1 then he will   
look  without emotion on the grandest   
ongoings of ,nature2 he will see in them
  only a subject for                    

investigation--nothing more4 ,but if1 as
 has often been  the case1 the physicist
 be a man not only of wide and accurate 
knowledge1  but of large soul1--if his  
knowledge has become a part of him1 has 
melted  into his being1 then his heart  
will be free to kindle and rejoice at   
the  great things of ,nature which he   
sees1 as genuinely as the unreflecting  
child1 the thoughtful peasant1 or the   
most spontaneous poet4    ,as genuinely1
 but with a difference3 the eye of the  
imaginative man of  science will take in
 all that these others do1 and more4    
,his admiration  will be fuller1 larger1
 more instructed4 ,the knowledge that   
has been  gradually lodged in his mind1 
and become a part of it1 will pass into 
his  eye1 and enable him to see1 on     
whatever side of the ,universe he looks1
  more complicated marvels1 more        
wonderful correspondences4    8,in      
,wonder10 says ,coleridge1 8all         
,philosophy began3 in ,wonder it ends3  
and ,admiration fills up the            

interspace40 ,the last clause ,i should 
change  thus1--and ,investigation fills 
up the interspace4 ,in the first ,wonder
 and  in the last the ,philosopher and  
the ,poet are akin to each other4 ,both 
wonder1 both admire what they see1 but  
this incipient wonder tends to          
different results4 ,the unscientific    
poet1 just like the child and the       
thoughtful peasant1 wonders at the      
beauty that is in the face of ,nature1  
and at its mystery1 seeks no physical   
explanations of it1 but reads its  moral
 and spiritual meaning1 and tries to    
utter it4 ,the man of science  equally  
begins with wonder at what he sees1 but 
his wonder leads him on  to seek for an 
explanation1 to search for the laws     
which regulate the  appearances1 if     
haply he may find them4    ,then comes  
the long interspace of toilsome labor1  
of painful analysis1  of rigorous       
induction4 ,experiment1 analysis1       
deductive and inductive  reasoning1 by  
which chiefly ,science works1 are       

intellectual acts quite  distinct from  
imaginative intuition and emotion1 and1 
in some degree1  opposed to them4 ,it   
cannot be that these distinct processes 
can be  combined in one intellectual    
act4 ,they can hardly go on in one mind 
at  the same time4 ,while a man is      
immersed in these scientific processes1 
they preclude the poetic vision for the 
time4 ,for many men they scare  away    
poetry from the world forever4    ,not  
so with the largest1 most sovereign     
minds of ,science4 ,lesser men  of dry  
or narrow minds may be so entangled in  
the meshes of their own  understanding  
as never to escape from them1 or may    
find more delight in  the cleverness of 
their own explanations than in the      
wonderful things  which they explain4   
,but the larger minds1 when they have   
done their work1  emerge in time from   
the study and the laboratory1 and look  
abroad with  expanded vision and        
profounder reverence on that ,universe1 
some small  part only of which it has   

been given them to understand4 ,kepler1 
after  he had discovered so far the laws
 of planetary motion1 said that all     
that he had been able to do was to read 
a few of the thoughts of ,god4 ,a  short
 time before his death1 ,newton is      
reported to have said1 and ,i give  the 
oft-told story in the authentic words1  
8,i do not know what ,i may  appear to  
the world1 but to myself ,i seem to have
 been only like a boy  playing on the   
sea-shore1 and diverting myself in now  
and then finding  a smoother pebble or a
 prettier shell than ordinary1 whilst   
the great  ocean of truth lay all       
undiscovered before me40#f ,a lesson    
surely to all  future investigators1    
and1 as his latest biographer has said1 
8to those  especially who have never    
even found the smoother pebble or the   
prettier  shell40 ,these great men1 so  
feeling1 are in the attitude of         
philosophic  wonder--wonder both at part
 of the ways of ,god which it has been  
given  them to see1 and at that vaster  

part which they feel to lie beyond their
  vision4 ,these laws which they have   
discovered1 what are they8 whence come  
they8 ,they know that they themselves   
did not make them1 only attained to     
catch sight of them4 ,they know too that
 the laws did not make themselves4      
,they are beautiful in themselves and in
 their benign operation2 they  are      
wonderful in their origin and           
continuance4 ,this is what those great  
discoverers felt4 ,and when they stood  
on the utmost verge of their  scientific
 knowledge1 and looked from what they   
had been allowed to see  out upon the   
great beyond1 they were rapt into that  
mood of wonder1 akin  to awe1 which is  
the very essence of ,poetry4 ,had they1 
in addition to  their great scientific  
insight1 been endowed with the gift of  
poetic  utterance to express the wonder 
which they felt1 they might have left to
  the world a poem of scientific truth  
transfigured by the imagination1  such  
as has never yet been uttered4    ,thus 

we see there is a poetic glow of wonder 
and emotion before ,science  begins its 
work2 there is a larger1 deeper1 more   
instructed wonder when  it ends4 ,and   
either of these may naturally express   
itself in poetry1  though the earlier   
wonder has done so far more frequently  
than the later4  ,that the contemplation
 of the ,universe does awaken this      
wonder in minds  of the highest         
scientific order appears in the         
instances of ,kepler and  ,newton4 ,it  
has been shown in the case of an        
original discovery nearer our  own day  
than either of these--,i mean in that of
 ,faraday4 ,the following  account of   
the imaginative delight which he felt in
 his scientific  investigations ,i      
venture to quote from a very suggestive 
lecture of ,mr4  ,stopford ,brooke4     
8,nature and her contemplation1 says    
,professor ,tyndall1 produced in him a  
kind of spiritual exaltation3 his       
delight in a sunset or a thunderstorm   
amounted to ecstasy4 ,our subjects are  

so glorious1 he says himself1  that to  
work at them rejoices and encourages the
 feeblest1 delights and  contents the   
strongest4 ,in this delight and         
enchantment he was always  in the temper
 of the poet1 and1 like the poet1 he    
continually reached  that point of      
emotion which produces poetic creation4 
,once1 after long  brooding on the      
subject of force and matter1 he saw1 and
 ,i am sure  suddenly1 as a poet sees a 
song from end to end before he writes it
  down1--he saw1 as if lit by a stream  
of sudden light1 the whole of the       
,universe traversed by lines of force1  
and these lines in their ceaseless      
tremors producing light and radiant     
heat2 and dashing forward on the  trail 
of his ideas1 and thrilled into creation
 by the emotion which he  felt1 declared
 that these lines were the lines of     
gravitating force1 and  that the        
gravitating force itself constituted    
matter2 that is1 he made  force         
identical with matter4 ,it was a        

speculation which abolished at a  stroke
 the atomic theory and the notion of an 
ether4 ,of the possibility  of the truth
 of this ,i am no judge10 says ,mr4     
,stopford ,brooke4 8,faraday  himself   
calls it the shadow of a speculation4   
,but who does not see that  it proceeded
 after the manner of poetry2 that in it 
poetry and philosophy  went hand in     
hand8 ,it was one of those inspired1    
sudden guesses which  come to the poet  
who writes of the soul1 coming to the   
philosopher who  writes of the universe4
 ,in the midst of unremitting work at   
details  suddenly a vision of the glory 
of the sum of things flashed upon his   
sight40          ,,chapter ,,iv4        
,,will ,,science ,,put ,,out ,,poetry8  
,here an interesting question suggests  
itself3 ,what if the discoveries  of    
,newton and ,faraday were to become no  
longer the exclusive possession  of the 
learned1 but were to pass into the daily
 thoughts of the people8  ,would ,poetry
 then be any longer possible8 ,were the 

scientific view of the  ,universe to    
become the popular one1 were all men to 
regard the sight of  the heavens and the
 earth1 not with natural spontaneous    
eyes1 but as the  chemist1 the          
astronomer1 and the geologist teach us  
to regard them1--were  scientific truth1
 in short1 to supersede surface         
appearance1--would it  be any longer    
possible to feel1 as we look on the face
 of things1 that  free and intuitive    
delight out of which ,poetry has        
hitherto been born8  ,in a word1 to     
express the fear which many hearts have 
felt1 must not the  march of ,science   
trample out ,poetry8 ,is not ,poetry    
destined to disappear  in this modern   
time1 like many other things1 once      
beautiful1 but now  antiquated8    ,to  
this the reply is1 ,there is no fear    
that it will1 as long as human  nature  
remains what it is4 ,if the view already
 taken of the genesis of  ,poetry be    
true1 if man is so made that the vivid  
contact of his soul  with reality or    

existence of any kind must generate that
 glow of emotion  which is poetry1 then 
it cannot be that any enlargement for   
him of the  domain of reality which     
,science may effect shall be the death  
of ,poetry4  ,for1 like ,religion1 to   
which it is akin1 ,poetry is thus seen  
to be a  perennial and necessary growth1
 having its root1 not only in the heart 
of  man1 but in the constitution of     
things1 and in the adaptation of these1 
the one to the other4 ,science1 however1
 though it can never eradicate  the     
poetic feeling1 may modify its nature1  
or rather may enlarge its  range4 ,but  
let it be clearly understood how it may 
do this4 ,the processes  of ,science and
 of ,poetry are radically distinct1 and 
cannot be blended  without confusion and
 injury to both4 ,experiment1 analysis1 
reasoning  inductive and deductive1     
these are the means by which ,science   
makes its  advances1 and with these     
,poetry cannot rightly intermeddle4     
,imaginatively  to contemplate the      

spectacle of the world is possible      
before ,science  has begun1 it is       
possible1 also1 after it has completed  
its work4 ,but  it is not possible to   
combine imaginative contemplation and   
scientific  investigation at the same   
time1 and in one mental act4 ,only after
  analysis and reasoning have done their
 work and secured their results  is the 
man of science free to look abroad on   
,nature with a poetic eye4  ,analysis   
and experimentalizing cannot by any     
possibility be made poetic1  but their  
results may4 ,every new province of     
knowledge which ,science  conquers1     
,poetry may in time enter into and      
possess4 ,but this can only  be done    
gradually4 ,before imagination can take 
up and mould the results  of ,science1  
these must have ceased to be difficult1 
laborious1 abstruse4  ,the knowledge of 
them must have become to the poet       
himself1 and in some  measure to his    
audience1 familiar1 habitual1           
spontaneous4 ,and here we  see how      

finely ,science and ,poetry may interact
 and minister each to the  other4 ,if it
 be the duty of ,science beneath seeming
 confusion to search  for order1 and its
 happiness to find it everywhere1--an   
order more vast1  more various1 more    
deeply penetrating1 more intimate and   
minute than  uninstructed men ever      
dreamed of1--wherever it reveals the    
presence of  this1 does it not open new 
fields for the imagination to           
appropriate8  ,for what is order but the
 presence of thought1 the ground of all 
beauty1  the witness to the actual      
nearness of an upholding and moving     
,spirit8  ,this is the vast new domain  
which ,science is unveiling and         
spreading out  before the eye of        
,poetry4 ,and ,poetry1 receiving this   
large benefit1 may  repay the debt by   
using her own peculiar powers to        
familiarize men's  thoughts with the new
 regions which ,science has won for     
them4 ,if there  is any office which    
,imagination can fulfill1 it is this4   

,she can help  to bring home to the mind
 things which1 though true1 are yet     
strange1  distant1 perhaps distasteful4 
,she can mediate between the warm1      
household  feelings and the cold and    
remote acquisitions of new knowledge1   
and make  the heart feel no longer      
8bewildered and oppressed0 among the    
vast extent  and gigantic movements of  
the ,universe1 but at home amongst them1
 soothed  and tranquillized4 ,not1      
however1 out of her own resources alone 
can  ,imagination do this4 ,she must    
bring from the treasure-house of        
,religion  moral and spiritual lights   
and impulses1 and with these            
interpenetrate  the cold1 boundless     
spaces which the telescope has revealed4
 ,some  beginning of such a reconciling 
process we may see here and there in    
those poems of 8,in ,memoriam0 in which 
the ,poet-,laureate has finely          
inwrought new truths of ,science into   
the texture of yearning affection  and  
spiritual meditation4 ,even where the   

views of ,science are not only  strange1
 but even at first crude and repulsive1 
,imagination can soften  their asperity 
and subdue their harsher features4 ,just
 as when a railway  has been driven     
through some beautiful and sequestered  
scene1 outraging  its quiet and scarring
 its loveliness1 we see ,nature in time 
return1  and 8busy with a hand of       
healing10 cover the raw wounds with     
grass1 and  strew artificial mounds and 
cuttings with underwood and flowers4 ,it
  seems then that while ,science gives  
to ,poetry new regions to work upon1    
,poetry repays the debt by familiarizing
 and humanizing what ,science has       
discovered4 ,such is their mutual       
interaction4    ,mr4 ,stopford ,brooke  
has told us that if on the scientific   
insight of  ,faraday could be engrafted 
the poetic genius of ,byron1 the result 
would  be a poem of the kind 8for which 
the world waits40 ,for 8to write on the 
universal ideas of ,science10 he says1  
8through the emotions which they        

excite1 will be part of the work of     
future poets of ,nature40 ,likely       
enough it may be so4 ,for if ,poetry    
were to leave large regions of new      
thought unappropriated1 being thus      
divorced from the onward march of       
thought1 it would speedily become       
obsolete and unreal4 ,but let us well   
understand what are the conditions of   
such poetry1 the conditions on  which   
alone ,imagination can wed itself to    
scientific fact4 ,the poet who  shall   
sing the songs of ,science must first be
 perfectly at home in all  the new      
truths1 must move among them with as    
much ease and freedom as  ordinary men  
now do among the natural appearances of 
things4 ,and not the  poet only1 but his
 audience must move with ease along the 
pathways which  ,science has opened4    
,for if the poet has first to instruct  
his readers  in the facts which he      
wishes imaginatively to render1 while he
 expounds  he will become frigid and    
unpoetic4 ,just as ,lucretius is dull in

 those  parts of his poem in which he   
has to argue out and to expound the     
,atomic  ,theory1 and only then soars   
when1 exposition left behind1 he can    
give  himself up to contemplate the     
great elemental movements1 the vast life
  that pervades the sum of things4 ,for 
in order that any truth or view of      
things may become fit material for      
poetry1 it must first cease to live     
exclusively in the study or the         
laboratory1 and come down and make      
itself  palpable in the market-place4   
,the scientific truths must be no longer
  strange1 remote1 or technical4 ,if    
they have not yet passed into popular   
thought1 they must at least have become 
the habitual possession of the  more    
educated before the poet can            
successfully deal with them4 ,this is   
the necessary condition of their poetic 
treatment4 ,wordsworth1 in one  of his  
,prefaces1 has stated so clearly the    
truth on this subject that ,i  cannot do
 better than give his words4 8,if the   

time should ever come10 he  says1 8when 
what is now called ,science becomes     
familiarized to men1 then  the remotest 
discoveries of the chemist1 the         
botanist1 the mineralogist1  will be as 
proper objects of the poet's art as any 
upon which it can be  employed4 ,he will
 be ready to follow the steps of the man
 of science1 he  will be at his side1   
carrying sensation into the midst of the
 objects  of ,science itself4 ,the poet 
will lend his divine spirit to aid the  
transfiguration1 and will welcome the   
being thus produced as a dear and       
genuine inmate of the household of man40
    ,science therefore may in some      
measure modify ,poetry1 may enlarge its 
range1 may reveal new phases of it1 but 
can never supersede it4 ,the            
imaginative view of things which ,poetry
 expresses is not one which can  grow   
obsolete4 ,it is not the child of any   
one particular stage of  knowledge or   
civilization1 which can be put aside    
when a higher stage has  been reached4  

,any state of knowledge can give scope  
to it4 ,any aspect  of the world1 that  
seen by the savage as well as that of   
the sage1 can  awaken that imaginative  
glow of mind1 that thrill of emotion1   
which1  expressed in fitting words1 is  
called ,poetry4 ,only1 as has been said 
above1 before any aspect of nature1 or  
fact of life1 or truth of science1  may 
be capable of poetic treatment1 it must 
have become habitual and easy  to the   
mind of the poet1 and in some measure to
 that of his audience4 ,in  the poet's  
mind1 at least1 it must have passed out 
of the region of mere  head-notions into
 the warmer atmosphere of imaginative   
intuition1 and1  vitalized there1 must  
have bodied itself into beautiful form  
and flushed  into glowing color4 ,for1  
to repeat once again what has been said 
at the  outset1 ,poetry originates in   
the vivid contact of the soul--not of   
the  understanding merely1 but of the   
whole soul--with reality of any kind2   
and  it is the utterance of the joy that

 arises1 of the glow that is felt1  from
 such soul-contact with the reality of  
things4 ,when that reality has  passed  
inward1 and kindled the soul to 8a white
 heat of emotion10 then it  is that     
genuine ,poetry is born4                
,,chapter ,v4    ,,how ,,far ,,science  
,,may ,,modify ,,poetry4      ,it may be
 worth while to dwell a little longer on
 the way in which ,poetry  and ,science 
respectively deal with external ,nature1
 noticing in what  respects their       
methods agree1 in what they differ1     
wherein they seem to  modify each other1
 and how each aims at a separate and    
distinct end of  its own4    ,the first 
thing to remark is1 that in the presence
 of ,nature the poet and  the man of    
science are alike observers4 ,but in    
respect of time the poet  has the       
precedence4 ,long before the botanist   
had applied his microscope  to the      
flower1 or the geologist his hammer to  
the rock1 the poet's eye  had rested    
upon these objects1 and noted the beauty

 of their lineaments4  ,the poets were  
the first observers1 and the earliest   
and greatest poets  were the most exact 
and faithful in their observations4 ,in 
the ,psalms  of ,israel and in the      
,poems of ,homer how many of the most   
beautiful and  affecting images of      
,nature have been seized and embalmed in
 language  which for exactness can not  
be surpassed1 and for beauty can never  
grow  obsolete6 ,indeed1 fidelity to the
 truth of ,nature1 even in its minutest 
details1 may be almost taken as a       
special note of the higher order of     
poets4 ,it is not ,homer but ,dryden who
 to express the silence of night  makes 
the drowsy mountains nod4 ,it is a      
vulgar error which supposes that  it is 
the privilege of imagination to absolve 
the poet from the duty  of exact truth1 
and to set him free to make of ,nature  
what he pleases4  ,true imagination     
shows itself by nothing more than by    
that exquisite  sensibility to beauty   
which makes it love and reverence       

,nature as it is4  ,it feels            
instinctively that 8,he hath made       
everything beautiful in his  time20     
therefore it would not displace a blade 
of grass nor neglect the  veining of a  
single leaf4 ,of course1 from the touch 
of a great poet1  the commonest objects 
acquire something more than exactness   
and truth  of detail2 they become forms 
of beauty1 vehicles of human sentiment  
and  emotion4 ,but before they can be so
 used1 fidelity to fact must first be   
secured4 ,they cannot be made symbols of
 higher truth unless justice has  first 
been done to the truth of fact          
concerning them4 ,hence it is that  the 
works of the great poets of all ages are
 very repositories in which  the        
features and ever-changing aspects of   
the outward world are rendered  with the
 most loving fidelity and 8vivid        
exactness40 ,this is one very  delicate 
service which genuine poets have done to
 their fellow-men4 ,they  have by an    
instinct of their own noted the         

appearance of earth and sky1  and kept  
alive the sense of their beauty during  
long ages when the world  was little    
heedful of these things4 ,how many are  
there who would own that  there are     
features in the landscape1 wild-flowers 
by the way-side1 tender  lights in the  
sky1 which they would have passed       
forever unheeded1 had not  the          
remembered words of some poet awakened  
their eye to look on these  things and  
to discern their beauty6 ,who ever now  
sees the 8wee1 modest1  crimson-tipped  
flower10 and notes the peculiar coloring
 of the petals1  without a new feeling  
of beauty in the flower itself1 and of  
the added  beauty it has received since 
the eye of ,burns dwelt so lovingly upon
 it6    ,the observation of the world   
around them in those early poets1 clear 
and  transparent1 was instinctive1      
almost unconscious4 ,it proceeded not by
  rules or method1 but was spontaneous1 
prompted by love4 ,what ,mrs4 ,hemans   
finely says of ,walter ,scott among his 

own woods at ,abbotsford1 may be  said  
of all the great poets in their converse
 with ,nature--        8,where every    
tree had music of its own1      ,to his 
quick ear of knowledge taught by love40 
,likely enough it will be said1 that    
spontaneous1 child-like kind  of        
observation was all well enough in the  
pre-scientific era4 ,but  now1 in this  
day of trained observation and          
experiment1 have not the                
magnifying-glass of the botanist and the
 crucible of the chemist quite  put out 
the poet's vocation as an observer of   
natural things8 ,have  not these taught 
us truth about ,nature1 so much more    
close1 exact1  and penetrating1 as to   
have discredited altogether that mere   
surface  observation which is all that  
is possible to the poet8 ,in the        
presence  of this newer1 more sifting   
investigation1 can the imagery of the   
poets  any longer live8 ,has not the    
rigorous analysis of modern times1 and  
the  knowledge thence accruing1         

abolished the worth and meaning of that 
first  random information gathered by   
the eye8    ,in reply1 may it not be    
said the observations of the poet have  
real  meaning and truth1 but it is a    
different kind of truth which the poet  
and  the man of science extract from the
 same object8 ,the poet1 in as far as   
he is an observer at all1 must be as    
true and as accurate in the details  he 
gives as the man of science is1 but the 
end which each seeks in his  observation
 is different4 ,in examining a flower1  
the botanist1 when he  has noted the    
number of stamens and petals1 the form  
of the pistil1 the  corolla1 the calyx1 
and other floral organs1--when he has   
registered  these1 and so given the     
flower its place in his system1 his work
 is done4  ,these things1 too1 the poet 
observes1 and in his descriptions1 if he
  does not give them a place1 he must at
 least not contravene them2 but he      
observes them as means to a further end4
 ,that end is to see and express  the   

loveliness that is in the flower1 not   
only the beauty of color and  of form1  
but the sentiment which1 so to speak1   
looks out from it1 and  which is meant  
to awaken in us an answering emotion4   
,for this end he  must observe          
accurately1 since the form and hues of  
the flower discerned  by the eye are a  
large part of what gives it relation and
 meaning to the  soul4 ,the outward     
facts of the wild-flowers he must not   
distort1 but  reverently observe them2  
but1 when observed1 he must not rest in 
them1  but see them as they stand       
related to the earth out of which they  
grow1  to the wood which surrounds them1
 to the sky above them1 which waits on  
them with its ministries of dew1 rain1  
and sunshine1--indeed1 to the whole     
world1 of which they are a part1 and to 
the human heart1 to which they  tenderly
 appeal4    ,on this wide subject1 the  
bearing of scientific on poetic truth1  
,i know  not where can be found truer   
and more suggestive teaching than that  

contained in ,mr4 ,ruskin's great work  
on ,modern ,painters4 ,each volume  of  
that work1 which has influenced so      
powerfully the painting of our  time1   
has much to teach to the poet and to the
 student of ,poetry4 ,in the  ,preface  
to the ,second ,edition many of the     
principles expanded throughout  the work
 are condensed4 ,from that ,preface ,i  
venture to quote one or two  passages   
which throw much light on the subject of
 our discussion3--    8,the sculptor is 
not permitted to be wanting either in   
knowledge or  expression of anatomical  
detail4444 ,that which to the anatomist 
is the  end is to the sculptor the      
means4 ,the former desires details for  
their  own sake2 the latter that by     
means of them he may kindle his work    
with life1 and stamp it with beauty4    
,and so in landscape3 botanical  or     
geological details are not to be given  
as a matter of curiosity or  subject of 
search1 but as the ultimate elements of 
every species of  expression and order  

of loveliness40    ,again3 8,details    
alone1 and unreferred to a final        
purpose1 are the sign of  a tyro's      
work4444 ,details perfect in unity and  
contributing to a final  purpose are the
 sign of the production of a consummate 
master4 ,it is not  details sought for  
their own sake 444 which constitute     
great art1--they  are the lowest1 most  
contemptible art2 but it is detail      
referred to a  great end1 sought for the
 sake of the inestimable beauty which   
exists in  the slightest and least of   
,god's works1 and treated in a manly1   
broad1  and impressive manner4 ,there   
may be as much greatness of mind1 as    
much  nobility of manner1 in a master's 
treatment of the smallest features1 as  
in his management of the more vast2 and 
this greatness of manner chiefly        
consists in seizing the specific        
character of the object1 together with  
all the great qualities of beauty which 
it has in common with the higher  orders
 of existence40    ,once more3 8,this is

 the difference between the mere        
botanist's knowledge  of plants and the 
great poet's or painter's knowledge of  
them4 ,the  one notes their distinctions
 for the sake of swelling his herbarium1
  the other that he may render them     
vehicles of expression and emotion4     
,the one counts the stamens1 affixes a  
name1 and is content2 the other         
observes every character of the plant's 
color and form2 considering each  of its
 attributes as an element of expression1
 he seizes on its lines of  grace or    
energy1 rigidity or repose1 notes the   
feebleness or the vigor1  the serenity  
or tremulousness of its hues2 observes  
its local habits1  its love or fear of  
peculiar places1 its nourishment or     
destruction by  particular influences2  
he associates it in his mind with all   
the features  of the situations it      
inhabits and the ministering agencies   
necessary to  its support4              
,thenceforward the flower is to him a   
living creature1 with  histories written

 on its leaves and passions breathing in
 its motion4 ,its  occurrence in his    
picture is no mere point of color1 no   
meaningless spark  of light4 ,it is a   
voice rising from the earth1 a new chord
 of the mind's  music1 a necessary note 
in the harmony of his picture1          
contributing alike  to its tenderness   
and its dignity1 nor less to its        
loveliness and its  truth40    ,if in   
the observation of ,nature the ends     
which the poet has in view  and the     
effects which he brings out are         
different from those aimed at  by the   
man of science1 not less distinct are   
the mental powers which  each brings    
into play4 ,the man of science          
investigates that he may  reach rigid   
accuracy of fact1 and this he does by   
the exercise of the  dry understanding1 
and by the use of the analytic method4  
,the poet  contemplates the single      
objects or the vast spectacle of        
,nature1 in  order that he may discern  
the beauty that pervades both the parts 

and  the whole1 and that he may         
apprehend the intimations--the great    
thoughts1  ,i might call them--which    
come to him through that beauty1 and    
which make  their appeal to the power of
 imaginative sympathy within him4       
,nature1  whether in detail or as a     
whole1 he regards in the relation it    
bears1  whether of likeness or of       
contrast1 to the soul1 the emotions1 and
 the  destiny of man4 ,but this relation
 he must seize1 not by neglecting or    
setting aside facts1 but by noting them 
with all the fidelity consistent  with  
his main purpose4    ,but it may be well
 to mark more definitely some of the    
ways in which the  extension of natural 
science in modern times has reacted on  
the work of  the poet4    #ast4 ,it had 
fallen in with1 though it has not       
originated1 that  remarkable change in  
the mental attitude in which modern     
times stand  toward ,nature1 a change of
 which more will have to be said        
presently1  but which it is enough here 

to allude to4 ,for that ardent1         
sensitive1  reverent regard which the   
modern time turns on ,nature1 recent    
research may be said to have furnished a
 rational basis1 a sufficient           
justification4 ,not that ,science       
created this mental attitude1 this      
new-born sentiment2 it is due to other1 
more subtle and hidden causes4  ,indeed1
 it may be that the two great           
contemporaneous influences1 the         
increased activity of physical discovery
 working by scientific analysis1  and   
the enlarged and heightened admiration  
of ,nature as seen through the          
imagination1 are but opposite sides of  
the one great current of modern         
thought4 ,shelley speaks of the 8intense
 and comprehensive imagery which        
distinguishes the modern literature of  
,england10 and this1 though by no  means
 a product of physical science1 is in   
keeping with its revelations1  though it
 goes beyond and supplements them4      
#b;d4 ,again3 the greatest of the early 

poets1 as we have seen1 were            
instinctive lovers of ,nature1 and      
faithful delineators of its forms4 ,but 
in presence of the unresting scrutiny   
and careful exactness of ,science1      
modern poets are stimulated to still    
closer1 more minute observation4        
,indeed1 there may be danger lest this  
tendency in ,poetry go too far1 and     
make it too microscopic and forgetful of
 that higher function which1  while     
seeing truly1 ever spiritualizes what it
 sees4 ,however this may be1  it is     
clear that ,science by its contagion has
 stimulated the observing  powers of the
 modern poet1 and made him more than    
ever a heedful                          
8,watcher of those still reports        
,which ,nature utters from her rural    
shrine40    #c;d4 ,again3 since the     
progress of modern ,science has let in  
on the  mental vision whole worlds of   
new facts and new forces1--a height and 
a  depth1 a vastness and minuteness in  
,nature1 as she works all around us1    

alike in the smallest pebble on the     
shore1 and 8in the loftiest star  of    
unascended heaven10--it cannot be but   
that all this now familiar  knowledge   
should enter into the sympathetic soul  
of the poet1 and color  his eye as he   
looks abroad on ,nature4 ,when the eye1 
for instance1 from  the southern beach  
of the ,moray ,firth passes over to its 
northern shore1  and rests on the       
succession of high plateaux and         
precipiced promontories  which form the 
opposite coast1 and observes how the    
whole landscape  has been shaped1       
moulded1 and rounded into its present   
uniformity of  feature by the glaciers  
that untold ages since descended from   
,ben ,wyvis  and his neighboring        
altitudes1 and wore and ground the      
masses of old  red sandstone into the   
outlines of the bluffs he now sees1--who
 can look  on such a spectacle without  
having new thoughts awakened within him1
  of ,nature working with her primeval  
wedges of frost1 ice1 and flood1  to    

carve the solid rock into the lineaments
 before him1 and of the  still higher   
power behind ,nature that directs and   
controls all these  her movements to    
ulterior and sublimer ends6 ,when1 in   
addition to these  thoughts1 the gazer  
calls to mind that these are the native 
headlands  which first arrested the     
meditative eye of the great northern    
mason1 more  than any other1 geologist  
and poet in one1 and fed the fire of his
 young  enthusiasm1 does not the        
geologic charactery that is scrawled    
upon these  rocks receive a strange     
enhancement of human interest8          
,again3 the huge gray bowlders strewn   
here and there on the top of those      
promontories1 and all about the dusky   
moors1 when we learn that they have     
been floated to their present stations  
from leagues away by long vanished      
glaciers1 no doubt their gaunt shapes   
become wonderfully suggestive4 ,and     
yet1 perhaps1 nothing that geology can  
teach regarding them will ever  invest  

them with a more imaginative aspect than
 that which they wore to  the poet's    
eye1 when1 caring little enough for     
scientific theories1 it  shaped them    
into this human phantasy--        8,as a
 huge stone is sometimes seen to lie    
,couched on the bald top of an eminence2
      ,wonder to all who do the same    
espy      ,by what means it hath hither 
come1 and whence2      ,so that it seems
 a thing endued with sense2      ,like a
 sea-beast crawled forth1 that on a     
shelf      ,of rock or sand reposeth1   
there to sun itself40    ,but no doubt  
the truths of geology1 if known to a    
poet1 will in some  measure enter into  
his description of scenery4 ,for as the 
geological  structure of a country      
powerfully moulds and determines its    
features1  the knowledge of this1 if    
possessed1 must enter into the poet's   
eye as  it ranges over the landscape4   
,how powerfully geological causes are to
  modify scenery is well set forth in a 
passage of the same ,preface of ,mr4    

,ruskin's from which ,i have already    
quoted4    ,the new light which the     
discovery of these fads throws upon     
scenery  cannot now well be neglected by
 the poet4 ,and it is impossible to     
divine  how many new facts and farther  
vistas into the recesses of ,nature     
future  discovery may open up1 which1   
when they have passed into the educated 
mind1 poets must in their own way find  
expression for4 ,but one thing  is      
clear1 the poet1 however he may avail   
himself of scientific truth1  must not  
himself merge the ,poet in the          
investigator or analyst4 ,that  function
 he must leave to the physicist1 and be 
content to employ the  material with    
which the physicist furnishes him to    
enrich and enlarge  his vision of       
beauty4 ,moreover1 the scientific facts 
he uses must not  be those which are    
still abstruse and difficult1 but those 
with which  educated men at least have  
already become familiar4 ,but1 above    
all1 the  poet1 if he is not to abdicate

 his function1 must retain that         
freshness  of eye1 that childlikeness of
 heart1 which looks forth with          
ever-young  delight and wonder and awe  
on the great spectacle which ,nature    
spreads  before him4 ,most men have lost
 this gift1 their spirits being crushed 
beneath the dead weight of custom4 ,our 
boasted civilization and education  have
 done their best to destroy it2 so that 
now it has come about that  to the dull 
mechanic mind this marvelous earth is   
but a black ball of  mud1 painted here  
and there with some streaks of green and
 gold4 ,to  the drily scientific mind1  
which fancies itself educated1 it is    
merely  a huge piece of mechanism1 like 
some great mill or factory1 worked by   
forces which he proudly tabulates and   
calls ,laws of ,nature4 ,but to  the    
true poet the earth and sky have not yet
 lost all their original  brightness4   
,his eye still sees them with the dew   
upon them1 in inspired  moments still   
catches sight of the visionary gleam4   

,his gift it is1 his  peculiar function1
 seeing this himself1 to make others see
 and feel it1  to make his fellow-men   
sharers in his perceptions and in the   
joy they  bring4 ,he purges our dulled  
eyes as with euphrasy and rue1 and opens
  them to partake of the vision which he
 himself beholds4 ,for after all  the   
sciences have said their say1 and       
propounded their explanations of        
things1 as far as they go1 the poet     
feels that there is in this visible     
,universe1 and the spectacle it         
presents1 something more than all the   
sciences have as yet grasped or ever    
will grasp--feels that there is in  and 
through and behind all ,nature a        
mysterious life1 which he 8cannot       
compass1 cannot utter10 but which he    
must still bear witness to4 ,this  great
 truth which lay at the bottom of the   
old mythologies1 which  gives meaning to
 many forms of mysticism1 but which our 
dull mechanic  philosophies have long   
discredited1 still haunts the soul of   

the poet1  and1 feeling it profoundly   
himself1 he longs to express and make   
others  feel it4          ,,chapter     
,,vi4    ,,the ,,mystical ,,side ,,of   
,,nature4      #dth4 ,the mystical      
feeling which the contemplation of      
,nature has  awakened in poets of every 
age1 but which our own day has so       
greatly  expanded1 while it is not      
directly suggested by ,science1 yet     
finds  support from its disclosures4    
,that great spectacle which from        
earliest  ages has thrilled the poet's  
soul with rapture and awe we know now to
  be produced by recognized laws1 to be 
interpenetrated by numberless           
well-ordered forces1 which1 are indeed  
but thought localized1 reason made      
visible4 ,the intuitive wonder which the
 earliest poet felt is more than        
justified by the latest discoveries of  
,science4    ,and yet1 be it observed1  
whatever support the truths of ,science 
may give  to the poet's instinctive     
perceptions1 it is not on the physical  

causes  and operations revealed by      
,science that his eye chiefly dwells4   
,he has  an object of contemplation     
which is distinct from these and        
peculiar  to himself1 and that is the   
,beauty which he sees in the face of the
  ,universe4 ,over and above the        
physical laws which uphold and carry on 
this  framework of things1 beyond all   
the uses which this mechanism subserves1
  there is this further fact1 this      
additional result1 that all these laws  
and forces in their combination issue in
 ,beauty4 ,this ,beauty1 while it is    
created by the collocation and          
harmonious working of the physical laws1
  is a thing distinct from them and     
their operation4 ,it is an aspect of    
things with which the physicist as such 
does not intermeddle1 but it is  as real
 and as powerful over the minds of men  
as any force which ,science  has        
disclosed4 ,modern discovery may have   
enlarged and intensified it1 but  has in
 no way originated it4 ,in this ,beauty 

the poet from the first has  found his  
favorite field1 the main region of his  
energy4 ,for ages the  vision of this   
beauty has haunted1 riveted1 fascinated 
him4 ,and if he  is no longer as of old 
its sole guardian1 he is still1 whether 
speaking  through verse or prose1 its   
best and truest interpreter4 ,this      
truth1 that  the ,beauty of ,nature is  
something in thought distinct1 though in
 fact  inseparable from the machinery of
 ,nature1 has been brought out and dwelt
  on with remarkable power by ,canon    
,mozley in his most suggestive sermon on
  8,nature40 ,and he further insists    
with great force on the truth that it is
  this spectacle of beauty produced by  
the useful laws which is the special    
province of the poet3--    8,he fixes   
his eye upon the passive spectacle1 upon
 ,nature as an  appearance1 a sight1 a  
picture4 ,to another he leaves the      
search and  analysis2 he is content to  
look1 and to look only2 this1 and this  
alone1  satisfies him2 he stands like a 

watcher or sentinel1 gazing on earth1   
sea1 and sky1 upon the vast assembled   
imagery1 upon the rich majestic         
representation on the canvas40#g    ,it 
is then the spectacle of beauty produced
 by the combination of  physical laws1  
this beauty1 and not the physical laws  
which produce  it1 on which the poet    
fixes his gaze4 ,in the presence of it  
the  poet's first mental attitude is one
 of pure receptivity4 ,as the clear     
windless lake1 spread out on a still    
autumn day1 takes into its steady  bosom
 every feature of the surrounding       
mountains1 every hue of the  overhanging
 sky1 so is his soul spread out to      
receive into itself the  whole imagery  
of ,nature4 ,when this wise passiveness 
has been undergone1  what images1       
sentiments1 thoughts the poet will give 
back depends on  the capaciousness1 the 
depth1 the clearness of soul within him4
 ,the  highest poetry of ,nature is that
 which receives most inspiration from   
the spectacle1 which extracts out of it 

the largest number of great and  true   
thoughts4 ,and a thought or idea1 as    
,mr4 ,ruskin has taught us1 8is  great  
in proportion as it is received by a    
higher faculty of the mind1  and as it  
more fully occupies and1 in occupying1  
exercises and exalts the  faculty by    
which it is received40    ,there are no 
doubt poets who are mainly taken up with
 the forms and  colors of things1 and   
yet no poet can rest wholly in them1 for
 this1  if for no other reason1 that in 
the power of rendering them his art     
necessarily falls so far below that of  
the painter4 ,even those poets who  deal
 most humbly with ,nature must1 when    
they endeavor to make us feel its       
visible beauty1 link the outward forms  
and colors to some simple thoughts  of  
animal delight1 or of comfort1 or of    
childhood1 or of home affection4  ,this 
much he must do1 if only to make them   
vivid1 to bring them home to  us4 ,but  
he who does not go beyond this has not  
attained to those higher  secrets of    

,nature1 which are open to the          
meditative imagination4 ,when a         
reflective man comes on some sudden     
beauty of scenery in the wilderness     
where no man is1 how often has the      
thought arisen that all this beauty     
cannot be wasted on vacancy1 that though
 man comes not that way to see  it1     
there must be other eyes that behold the
 spectacle1--one ,eye at least  by which
 it is not unseen4    ,whether we regard
 the beauty as something wholly external
 to us1 as lying  outside of us on the  
face of ,nature1 or as a creation       
resulting from the  combination of      
certain external qualities1 and of an   
intelligent mind  which perceives them1 
whichever of these views we take1 the   
beauty is  there1 no mere dream or      
phantasy1 but something to whose        
existence the  soul witnesses1 as truly 
as the eye does to the existence of     
light or  of those motions which        
perceived are light4 ,what is it1 whence
 comes  it1 what means it8 ,it is not   

something we can reason from as we can  
from marks of contrivance and design4   
,it will not lend itself to any         
syllogism4 ,but notwithstanding this1 or
 perhaps owing to this1 it awakens      
deeper thoughts1 it carries the mind    
farther than any mere proofs of  design 
can do4 ,the beautiful aspect of the    
outward world1 and the delight  which it
 inspires1 are no doubt proofs of a     
goodness somewhere which  supports      
these1 just as food and air are proofs  
of it4 ,but they are more3  they have a 
mystic meaning1 they are hints and      
intimations of something  more than eye1
 or ear1 or mere intellect discover4 ,if
 the outward world  and the mind of man 
are so constructed that they fall in    
with1 and answer  to1 each other1--if   
mere physical qualities1 such as height1
 depth1  expansion1 silence1 solitude1  
sunshine1 shadow1 gloom1 affect the soul
  in certain well-known ways1 awakening 
in us emotions of awe and wonder1  of   
peace1 gladness1 sadness1 and           

solemnity1--we naturally ask ourselves1 
after being thus moved1 why is it we    
were so affected1 what is it in the     
outward world which awakens these       
emotions8 ,it is a natural question for 
those who have felt the strange impulses
 from the changeful countenance  of the 
world4 ,it was not mere shape or color  
that so affected them3 these  feelings  
did not come by chance1 they were not   
without meaning2 they  point to         
something outside of themselves1        
something inherent in the truth  of     
things4 ,when the spirit within them was
 so stirred1 they felt that  that which 
so addressed them1 though it came       
through physical things1  was more than 
physical1 was spiritual4 ,for it carried
 their thoughts and  feelings quite out 
of the natural and physical appearances1
 till they  found themselves in commune 
with something akin to their own        
spirits1  though higher and vaster4 ,the
 beauty which came to them through eye1 
ear1  and imagination1 they felt to     

belong to the same order as that which  
more  directly addresses their moral    
heart and conscience4 ,it was the ,great
  ,being behind the veil who comes to us
 directly through the conscience1       
coming more indirectly1 but not less    
really1 through the eye and ear4 ,not   
otherwise can we account for the intense
 love which the sights and sounds  of   
,nature have awakened in the best and   
purest of men1 and the more so as  they 
grew in maturity and serenity of soul4  
,it is a true instinct when men are led 
to regard the beauty of the world  that 
comes to them through the eye1 and the  
moral light which shines  from behind   
upon the soul1 as coming from one       
centre1 and leading upward  to the      
thought of one ,being who is above both4
 ,in this way all visible  beauty       
becomes a hint and a foreshadowing of   
something more than itself4  ,but if    
,nature is to be the symbol of something
 higher than itself1 to  convey         
intimations of ,him from whom both      

,nature and the soul proceed1  man must 
come to the spectacle with the thought  
of ,god already in his  heart4 ,he will 
not get a religion out of the mere sight
 of ,nature1  neither from the uses it  
subserves as indicating design1 nor from
  the beauty it manifests as hinting at 
character4 ,no doubt beauty is a        
half-way element1 mediating between the 
physical laws and the moral  sentiments1
 partaking more of the latter than of   
the former1 as being  itself a spiritual
 perception4 ,no doubt it does in some  
measure act as a  reconciler between    
those two elements which so often seem  
to stand out  in contrast               
irreconcilable4 ,but if it is to do     
this1 if it is really to  lead the soul 
upward1 man must come to the            
contemplation of it with his  moral     
convictions clear and firm1 and with    
faith in these as connecting  him       
directly with ,god4 ,neither morality   
nor religion will he get out  of beauty 
taken by itself4 ,if out of the splendid

 vision spread before  him--the sight of
 earth1 sea1 and sky1 of the clouds1 the
 gleams1 the  shadows--man could arrive 
directly at the knowledge of ,him who is
 behind  them1 how is it that in early  
ages whole nations1 with these sights   
continually before them1 never reached  
any moral conception of ,god8 how  is it
 that even in recent times many of the  
most gifted spirits1 who have  been most
 penetrated by that vision1 and have    
given it most magnificent  expression1  
have been in revolt against religious   
faith8 ,it is because  they sought in   
,nature alone1 that which alone she was 
never intended to  give4 ,it is because 
the spectacle of the outward world1     
however splendid1  if we begin with it1 
and insist on extracting our main light 
from it1 is  powerless to satisfy our   
human need1 to speak any word which fits
 in to  man's moral yearning4 ,nay1     
,nature taken alone will often appear no
 benign  mother at all1 no              
dwelling-place of a kindly spirit1 but  

an inexorable  and cruel ,sphinx1 who   
rears children and makes them glad a    
little while1  only that she may the    
more relentlessly destroy them4    ,but 
he who takes the opposite road1 who1    
instead of looking to visible  ,nature  
for his first teaching1 begins with the 
knowledge of himself1 of  his need1 his 
guilt1 his helplessness1 and listens to 
the voice that  tells of a strength not 
his own1 and a redemption not in him but
 for  him1 he will learn to look on     
,nature with other and calmer eyes1 and 
to  discern a meaning in it which taken 
by itself it cannot give4 ,man may  then
 find in the beauty which he sees a hint
 and intimation of a higher  beauty     
which he does not see--a something      
revealed to the eye which  corresponds  
to the religious truth revealed to the  
heart1 harmonizing  with it and         
confirming it4 ,he can regard the glory 
of ,nature1 not only  in itself and for 
its own sake1 but as the foreshadow and 
prophecy  of a higher glory yet to be4  

,and so the sight of ,nature1 instead of
  intoxicating1 maddening1 and rousing  
to rebellion1 soothes1 elevates1        
spiritualizes1 chiming in unison with   
our best thoughts1 our purest           
aspirations4    ,canon ,mozley1 in his  
sermon on 8,nature0 already alluded to1 
has dwelt  very powerfully on this1 as  
the use which the highest ,poetry makes 
of  ,nature1 and has shown that it is at
 once in accordance with the teaching   
and practice of ,scripture1 and true to 
our human instincts4 ,he shows how      
sight1 the noblest of our senses here1  
is made the pattern and type of  the    
highest attitude of the soul hereafter4 
,for heaven is represented  as 8a       
perfected sight10 and he who attains to 
it is to be a beholder4  ,it is not mere
 self-rapt thought or inward            
contemplation1 but a future  vision of  
,god which is promised4 ,meanwhile      
,nature and her works are  employed in  
,scripture1 not only as proofs of       
goodness in ,god1 but also  as symbols  

representative of what ,he has in       
keeping for them who shall  attain4 ,out
 of the storehouse of ,nature are taken 
the materials--the light  the rainbow1  
the sapphire1 and the sea of glass--to  
set forth1 as far as  can be set forth1 
the things that shall be1--sight1 the   
noblest sense  here1 made the type of   
the highest mental act hereafter2 and   
,nature the  spectacle given to employ  
sight now1 and to adumbrate the things  
that  shall be in heaven3--this is the  
high function assigned by ,scripture to 
sight and to ,nature4    ,when1         
therefore1 in the light of these        
thoughts we study ,nature in this1  her 
highest poetic aspect1 we may well feel 
that we are engaged in no  trivial      
employment1 but in one befitting an     
immortal being4 ,even the most  common  
acts of minutely observing ,nature's    
handiwork may in this way  partake of a 
religious character4 ,how much more when
 the great spectacle  of ,nature lends  
itself to devout imagination1 and       

becomes as it were the  steps of a stair
 ascending toward the ,eternal6         
,,chapter ,,vii4    ,,primeval          
,,imagination ,,working ,,on            
,,nature--,,language ,,and ,,mythology4 
,the thought with which the last chapter
 closed opens up views which are        
boundless4 ,through the imaginative     
apprehension of outward ,nature1 and    
through the beauty inherent in it1 we   
get a glimpse into the connection  of   
the visible world with the realities of 
morality and of religion4 ,the  vivid   
feeling of ,beauty suggests1 what other 
avenues of thought more  fully disclose1
 that the complicated mechanism of      
,nature which ,science  investigates and
 formulates into physical law is not the
 whole1 that  it is but the case or     
outer shell of something greater and    
better than  itself1 that through this  
mechanism and above it1 within it1 and  
beyond  it1 there lie existences which  
,science has not yet                    
formulated--probably  never can         

formulate--a supersensible world1 which1
 to the soul1 is more  real and of      
higher import than any which the senses 
reveal4 ,it is  apprehended by other    
faculties than those through which      
,science works1  yet it is in no way    
opposed to science1 but in perfect      
harmony with it1  while transcending it4
 ,the mechanical explanation of         
things--of the  ,universe--we accept as 
far as it goes1 but we refuse to take it
 as the  whole account of the matter1   
for we know1 on the testimony of moral  
and  spiritual powers1 that there is    
more beyond1 and that that which is     
behind and beyond the mechanism is      
higher and nobler than the mechanism4   
,we refuse to regard the ,universe as   
only a machine1 and hold by the         
intuitions of faith and of ,poetry1     
though the objects which these let in   
on us cannot be counted1 measured1 or   
weighed1 or verified by any of the      
tests which some physicists demand as   
the only gauges of reality4 ,this  ideal

 but most real region1 which the visible
 world in part hides from  us1 in part  
reveals1 is the abode of that           
supersensible truth to which  conscience
 witnesses1--the special dwelling-place 
of the ,one ,supreme ,mind4  ,the       
mechanical world and the ideal or       
spiritual are both actual4 ,neither  is 
to be denied1 and ,imagination and      
,poetry do their best work when they    
body forth those glimpses of beauty and 
goodness which flash upon us  through   
the outer shell of ,nature's mechanism4 
,but                                    
8,descending      ,from these           
imaginative heights10    we must turn to
 the humbler task of showing by a few   
concrete examples  how ,imagination has 
actually worked on the plastic stuff    
supplied by  ,nature4 ,to this the      
readiest way would be to turn to the    
works of the  great poets1 and see how  
they1 as a matter of fact1 have dealt   
with the  outward world4 ,before doing  
so1 however1 a few words may be given to

 the  marks which ,imagination has      
impressed on ,nature in the prehistoric 
and  preliterary ages4 ,the record of   
this process lies imbedded in two fossil
  creations1 ,language and ,mythology4  
,language4--,in the very childhood of   
the race1 long before regular  poetry or
 literature were thought of1 there was a
 time when ,imagination1  working on the
 appearances of the visible world1 was  
the great weaver of  human speech1 the  
most powerful agent in forming the      
marvelous fabric of  language4 ,it has  
long been well known to all who have    
given attention  to the subject1 that   
,metaphor has played a large part in the
 original  formation of language4 ,but  
how large that part is has only been    
recently  made evident by the researches
 of ,comparative ,philology4 ,metaphor1 
as  all know1 means 8the transferring of
 a name from the object to which it     
properly belongs to other objects which 
strike the mind as in some way          
resembling the first object40 ,now this 

is the great instrument which  works at 
the production of a large portion of    
language4 ,and ,imagination  is the     
power which creates metaphor1 which sees
 resemblances between  things1 seizes on
 them1 and makes them the occasion of   
transferring the  name from the well    
known original object to some other     
object resembling  it1 which still waits
 for a name4 ,even in our own day       
newly-invented  objects are often named 
by metaphor1 but metaphors thus         
consciously  formed belong to a later   
age4 ,long before such metaphors were   
formed1  ,imagination had been silently 
and unconsciously at work1 naming the   
whole world of mental and spiritual     
existences by metaphors taken from      
visible and tangible things4 ,it is     
quite a commonplace that the whole      
vocabulary by which we name our souls1  
our mental states1 our emotions1        
abstract conceptions1 invisible and     
spiritual realities1 is woven in the    
earliest ages by the ,imagination from  

the resemblances which it seemed  to    
perceive between the subtle and still   
unnamed things of mind1 and  objects or 
aspects of the external world4 ,this is 
not so easily seen in  the ,english     
language1 because owing to our having   
borrowed almost all  our words          
expressive of mental things from other  
languages1 the marks of  metaphor are to
 our eyes obliterated4 ,in fact all our 
words for mental  and spiritual things  
are like coins which1 having passed     
through many  hands1 have had the       
original image and superscription nearly
 quite worn  out4 ,none the less these  
are still to be traced by those who have
 their  eyes exercised to it by reason  
of use4 ,but it is manifest in ,german1 
which has spun a large part of its      
philosophical vocabulary out of native  
roots4 ,it may be seen1 in some measure1
 in ,latin1 but much more in ,greek     
philosophical language4    ,this whole  
subject has been so well handled and so 
amply illustrated  by ,professor ,max   

,mller in the ,second ,series of his    
,lectures on 8the  ,science of          
,language10 and in ,archbishop ,trench's
 instructive and  delightful volumes on 
8,words10 that ,i can but refer to these
 works and  make here a few excerpts    
from them as examples of the general    
principle  of thought to which ,i have  
adverted4 ,locke1 as ,professor ,mller  
shows1  long ago asserted that in all   
languages 8names which stand for things 
which fall not under our senses have had
 their first rise from sensible  ideas40
    ,our word 8spirit0 comes from the   
,latin spiritus1 the breath1 and  spiro1
 to breathe2 so animus1 the soul1 a seat
 of the affections1 and  anima1 the     
living principle1 are connected with the
 ,greek 1 wind4  ,indeed1 anima is      
sometimes used in ,latin for a breeze1  
as readers of  ,horace will remember1   
and all are connected with the ,greek   
verb 1 to  blow4 1 the ,greek word used 
in ,scripture to express spirit and a   
spiritual being1 originally means wind  

and breath1 from the verb 1 to  blow and
 to breathe4 ,again1 1 life and soul1 is
 connected with 1  which in ,homer means
 to breathe1 to blow4 ,so that in all   
these cases we  see that men1 when they 
first became aware of an invisible and  
spiritual  principle within themselves1 
named it by an act of imagination from  
the  most impalpable entity their senses
 perceived1--the wind1 or the breath4   
,again1 take our word 8ideal40 ,it comes
 from the ,greek 1 from 1  to see1      
originally a word of sight1 expressing  
the look or appearance  of a thing1     
which ,plato in time employed to express
 the most spiritual  entities1 the      
supersensible pattern of all created    
things4 ,again1 our  words 8imagination0
 and 8imaginative10 how have they been  
formed8 ,the  ,latin word imaginatio    
occurs but rarely2 more frequently the  
verb  imaginor1 to picture to one's     
self2 more frequent still is imago1  as 
if imitago1 from imitor1 to imitate4    
,this last is connected with  the ,greek

 verb 1 meaning also to imitate2 and the
 original of  these1 and all the cognate
 words1 both ,latin and ,greek1 is the  
,sanscrit  root m1 to measure4 ,so from 
this very palpable process of measuring 
the land1 there have been spun all the  
subtle and delicate words that  express 
the working of imagination4 ,so the     
mental processes expressed by           
8apprehend10 8comprehend10 and          
8conceive10 are all derived from bodily 
processes1 and mean respectively to     
grasp at a thing with the hand1  to     
grasp a thing together1 to take and hold
 together4 ,again1 the word  8perceive10
 from the ,latin percipere1 was in the  
language of husbandry  used for the     
farmer gathering in the fruits of his   
fields and storing  them in his garner4 
,was then the mind conceived of as a    
husbandman who  gathers in the notices  
of sense from the outer world1 and      
stores them in  an invisible garner8 ,to
 8inculcate30 here is another mental    
word borrowed  from husbandry4 ,it means

 to tread or stamp firmly in with the   
heel1 and  was used of the farmer1 who1 
with his foot or some instrument1       
carefully  pressed home into the earth  
the seed which he had sown4 ,we see how 
well  the metaphor can be transferred to
 the process of careful teaching--to the
  clergyman1 for instance1 who          
inculcates religious truth4 ,these are  
but a  few obvious and well-known       
samples of a process which has gone on  
in all  languages1 and has furnished    
forth our whole stock of names for      
mental  operations and spiritual truths4
 ,and ,imagination has been the power   
which  has presided over the process1   
the interpreter mediating between two   
worlds1 and naming the unseen realities 
of the inner world by analogies  which  
she perceives in them to the sensible   
objects of the outer4  ,disciples of the
 ,hume philosophy will see in these     
facts of language a  confirmation of    
their master's dictum that all ideas and
 thoughts are but  weak and faded copies

 of the more vivid impressions first    
stamped on the  senses4 ,but those who  
have been learners in another school1 to
 whom the  world of thought has more    
power and reality than the world of     
sense1 they  will read in these facts a 
different lesson1 that ,he has made all 
things  double1 the one over against the
 other1 and that the thought by which   
both are pervaded is one4    ,truly then
 has it been said1 8,language is fossil 
poetry40 ,and any one  who will set     
himself to spell out those fossils1 and 
the meanings they  contain1 will find a 
wonderful record of the way in which the
 mind of  man has wrought in their      
formation4 ,this record will lead him   
down into  layers of thought as varied  
as any which the geologist deciphers1   
filled  with more subtle and marvelous  
formations than any animal or vegetable 
fossils4 ,for full exposition and       
illustration of the mental processes by 
which so large a portion of language has
 been created1 the reader should  turn  

to ,professor ,mller's volume1 to which 
,i have already referred4    ,wholly    
different from this primeval process of 
naming things by  unconscious metaphors 
is the modern metaphor1 as we find it in
 the poets4  ,when ,shelley speaks of   
the moon as        8,that orbd maiden   
with white fire laden1        ,whom     
mortals call the ,moon10    he is using 
a metaphor1 and a very fine one1 but he 
does so with perfect  consciousness that
 it is a metaphor1 and there is not the 
least danger of  the poet1 or any one   
else1 confounding the moon with any     
maiden1 earthly  or heavenly4    ,again1
 when ,mrs4 ,hemans addresses the       
moaning night-winds as        8,wild1   
and mighty1 and mysterious singers6     
,at whose tones my heart within me      
burns10    there is no likelihood of any
 confusion between the winds and mortal 
singers1 no chance of the metaphor ever 
growing into mythology4    ,once more3  
to return to ,shelley--        8,winter 
came2 the wind was his whip      ,one   

choppy finger was on his lip3      ,he  
had torn the cataracts from the hills1  
,and they clanked at his girdle like    
manacles1      ,his breath was a chain  
that without a sound      ,the earth1   
and the air1 and the water bound2       
,he came1 fiercely driven in his        
chariot-throne      ,by the ten-fold    
blasts of the arctic zone40    ,here is 
not only metaphor1 but personification  
so strong and vivid  that it is only    
kept from passing into mythology by the 
conscious and  reflective character of  
the age in which it was created4        
,mythology4--,the other great primitive 
creation wrought by the action  of the  
human imagination1 in its attempts to   
name and explain the  appearances of    
visible ,nature1 was ancient mythology4 
,that huge  unintelligible mass of fable
 which we find imbedded in the poets of 
,greece and ,rome has long been a riddle
 which no learning could read4  ,but    
just as modern telescopes have resolved 
the dim masses of nebul  into distinct  

stars1 so the resources of that modern  
scholarship called  ,comparative        
,philology seems at last on the way to  
let in light on the  hitherto           
impenetrable secret of the origin of    
religious myths4 ,it has  gradually been
 made probable that the ,olympian gods1 
whatever capricious  shapes they        
afterward assumed1 were in their origin 
but the first feeble  efforts of the    
human mind to name the unnamable1 to    
give local habitation  and expression to
 the incomprehensible ,being who haunted
 men's inmost  thoughts1 but was above  
their highest powers of conception4 ,in 
making  this attempt1 the religious     
instinct of our ,aryan forefathers      
wrought1  not through the abstracting or
 philosophical faculty1 but through the 
thought-embodying1 shaping power of     
imagination1 by which in later ages  all
 true poets have worked1 that in the dim
 foretime fashioned the whole  fabric of
 mythology4 ,it was the same faculty of 
giving a visible shape to  thought4     

,as soon as man wakes up to think of    
himself1 what he is1 how he is  here1 he
 feels that he depends not on himself1  
but on something other  than and        
independent of himself2 that there is   
,one on whom 8our dark  foundations     
rest40 8,it is ,he that made us1 and not
 we ourselves20 this  is the instinctive
 cry of the human heart when it begins  
to reflect  that it is here1 and to ask 
how it came here4 ,this consciousness of
  ,god1 which is the dawn of all        
religion1 is reached not as a conclusion
  reasoned out from premises1 not as a  
law generalized from a multitude  of    
facts1 but as a first instinct of       
intelligence1 a perception flashed  on  
the soul as directly as impressions are 
borne in upon the sense1  a faith which 
may be afterward fortified by arguments1
 but is itself  anterior to all         
argument4#h ,when this thought awoke1   
when men felt the  reality of 8that     
secret thing which they see by reverence
 alone10 how  were they to conceive of  

it1 how name it8 for a name was         
necessary to  retain any thought as a   
permanent possession1 much more this    
thought1  the highest of all thoughts4  
,the story of the well-known ,dyaus1 or 
the  formation of this name for the     
,supreme ,god1 has been told so often of
  late by ,professor ,m4 ,mller1 in his 
various works1 that ,i should not have  
ventured to repeat it after him once    
again1 had it not been necessary for    
the illustration of my present subject4 
,it has been proved that in almost  all 
the ,aryan languages--,sanscrit1 ,greek1
 ,latin1 ,teutonic1 ,celtic--the  name  
for the ,highest1 the ,supreme ,being1  
has sprung from one root4 8,the         
,highest ,god received the same name in 
the ancient mythology of ,india1        
,greece1 ,italy1 ,germany1 and retained 
the name whether worshiped on the       
,himalayan mountains or among the oaks  
of ,dodona1 or in the ,capitol of       
,rome1 or in the forests of ,germany40  
,the ,sanscrit ,dyaus1 the ,greek ,zeus1

  the ,latin ,jupiter 7,jovis71 the     
,teutonic ,tiu 7whence our ,tuesday71   
are  originally one word1 and spring    
from one root4 ,that root is found in   
,sanscrit1 in the old word dyu1 which   
originally meant sky and day4  ,dyaus   
therefore meant the bright heavenly     
,deity4 ,when men began to think  of the
 incomprehensible ,being who is above   
all things1 and comprehends  all things1
 and when they sought to name ,him1 the 
name must be taken from  some known     
visible thing1 and what so natural as   
that the bright1 blue1  boundless1      
all-embracing1 sublime1 and infinite    
vault1 which contains man  and all that 
man knows1 should be made the type and  
symbol to furnish  that name8    ,when  
the old ,aryan people1 before their     
dispersion1 thus named their  thought   
about the ,supreme as the ,shining ,one1
 ,professor ,mller does not  think that 
it was any mere personification of the  
sky1 or ,nature-worship1  or idolatry   
that led to their so naming ,him4       

,rather he thinks that that  old race   
were still believers in one ,god1 whom  
they worshiped under  the name          
,heaven-,father4 ,this inquiry1 however1
 lies beyond our present  purpose4 ,what
 it more concerns us now to note is that
 it was a high  effort of thought to    
make the blue1 calm1 all-embracing sky  
the type  and symbol of the ,invisible  
,one1 and that the power which wrought  
out  that first name for the ,supreme   
was ,imagination working unconsciously1 
we might almost say involuntarily--the  
same power which in its later  conscious
 action1 under control of the poet's    
will1 has found a vent for  itself in   
,poetry4    ,in the same way            
,comparative ,philology accounts for all
 the stories about  the beautiful youth 
,phbus ,apollo1 ,athene1 and ,aphrodite4
    8,i look10 ,professor ,mller says1  
8on the sunrise and sunset1 on the daily
  return of night and day1 on the battle
 between light and darkness1 on  the    
whole solar drama in all its details    

that is acted every day1 every  month1  
every year1 in heaven and in earth1 as  
the principal subject of  early         
mythology4 ,i consider that the very    
idea of ,divine powers sprang  from the 
wonderment with which the forefathers of
 the ,aryan family  stared at the bright
 7deva7 powers that came and went no one
 knew  whence or whither1 that never    
failed1 never faded1 never died1 and    
were  called immortal1 i4 e41 unfading1 
as compared with the feeble and         
decaying race of man4 ,i consider the   
regular recurrence of phenomena  an     
almost indispensable condition of their 
being raised1 through the  charms of    
mythological phraseology1 to the rank of
 immortals3 and ,i give  a              
proportionably small place to the       
meteorological phenomena1 such as       
clouds1 thunder1 and lightning1 which1  
although causing for a time a  violent  
commotion in nature and in the heart of 
man1 would not be ranked  together with 
the immortal bright beings1 but would   

rather be classed  together as their    
subjects or as their enemies40    ,in   
this eloquent passage ,professor ,mller 
expresses his well-known 8,solar        
,theory0 of mythology4 ,at the close of 
the passage he alludes to a counter     
theory which has been called the        
,meteoric1 which makes mythology find   
its chief field1 not in the calm and    
uniform phenomena of the sun's  coming  
and going1 and of day and night1 but in 
the occasional and violent  convulsions 
of storm1 thunder1 and earthquake4 ,not 
what is fixed and  uniform1 but what is 
sudden and startling1 most arrests the  
imagination1  according to this latter  
theory4 ,but it does not concern us here
 to  discuss the claims of these rival  
views1 but rather to remark that in     
both alike it is the imagination in man 
to which the aspects of heaven1  whether
 uniform or occasional1 calm or         
turbulent1 make their appeal1  and that 
when1 according to that tendency of     
language noted by ,professor  ,mller1   

words assume an independent power and   
dominate over the mind  instead of being
 dominated by it1 it is ,imagination    
which throws itself  into the tendency1 
and takes occasion from it to weave its 
many-tissued1  many-colored web of      
mythologic fable4    ,but however       
adequate such theories may be to people 
the whole ,pantheon  of ,olympus1 they  
seem quite out of place when brought to 
account for the  inhabitants of this    
lower world4 ,nothing can seem less     
likely than that  the conceptions of    
,achilles and ,hector can have arisen   
from myths of the  dawn4 ,characters    
that stand out so firmly drawn1 so human
 and so natural1  in the gallery of     
human portraiture1 can hardly have been 
shaped out  of such skyey materials4    
,one could as readily believe that      
,othello or  ,macbeth had such an       
origin4    ,it is easy to laugh at those
 early fancies which men dreamed in the 
childhood of the world1 and took for    
truth2 and to congratulate ourselves    

that we1 with our modern lights of      
,science1 have long outgrown those      
mythic fables2 but with the exacter     
knowledge of the world's mechanism      
which ,science has taught us1 is there  
not something we have lost8  ,whither   
has gone that fine wonder with which the
 first men gazed on  the earth and the  
heavens from the plains of ,iran and    
,chaldea8 ,it lies  buried beneath the  
mass of second-hand thought and         
information which  ,science has heaped  
upon us4 ,would it not be well if we    
could win back  the truth1 of which a   
dull mechanical or merely logical way of
 thinking  has long robbed us1 that the 
outward world1 with all its movements1  
is  not a mere dead machine1 going by   
ropes and pulleys and cog-wheels1 but   
an organism full of a mysterious life1  
which defies our most subtle  analysis1 
and escapes us when placed in the       
crucible8 ,this feeling1 that  things   
are alive and not dead1 rests at the    
bottom of all mythology1 the  one root  

of truth underlying the huge mass of    
fable4 ,how to regain this  perception  
of something divine in ,nature1 more    
than eye and ear discover1  and to do   
this in harmony with all the facts and  
laws which ,science has  ascertained1   
this is a problem reserved for          
thoughtful men in the future  time4     
,,chapter ,,viii4    ,,some ,,of ,,the  
,,ways ,,in ,,which ,,poets ,,deal      
,,with ,,nature4      ,those who have   
not given attention to the subject are  
apt to imagine that  the chief creators 
of mythological fables were the poets1  
and especially  ,homer4 ,they suppose   
that the early poets1 by sheer power of 
imagination1  invented those stories to 
adorn their poems1 and so gave them     
currency  among the people4 ,it was not 
so4 ,even ,homer1 the earliest poet whom
 we  know1 belonged to an era when the  
myth-creating instinct was past its     
prime1 and already on the wane4 ,the    
fables of the gods1 their loves and     
their quarrels1 as these appear in his  

poems1 there is no reason to  suppose   
that he created them or imagined them   
for the first time4 ,it  would rather   
seem that they had been long current in 
popular belief1  and that he only used  
and gave expression to stories which he 
found  ready-made4 ,here and there in   
,homer you may still detect some traces 
of the mythologizing tendency still     
lingering1 and catch the primitive      
physical meaning of the myth shining    
through the anthropomorphic covering    
which it afterward assumed4 ,such       
glimpses we get in ,zeus1 when he       
gathers the clouds in the sky1 when he  
rouses himself to snow upon men  and    
manifests his feathery shafts1 when he  
rains continuously1 when he  bows the   
heavens and comes down upon the peaks of
 ,ida4 ,or again1 when  ,poseidon1 the  
earth-encompassing1 the earth-shaker1   
yokes his car at  ,hege and drives full 
upon the ,trojan strand3 ,i take the    
passage from ,mr4  ,cordery's           
translation of the ,iliad3--            

8,he entered in1      ,and there beneath
 his chariot drew to yoke               
,fast-flying horses1 maned with flowing 
gold1      ,hooved with bright brass2   
and girt himself in gold1      ,took    
golden goad1 and sprang upon the car2   
,so forth upon the billows1 round whose 
path      ,huge monsters gamboled1      
gathering from the depth      ,afar1    
anear1 and joyous knew their lord2      
,ocean for gladness stood in sunder     
cloven1      ,whilst lightly flew the   
steeds1 nor 'neath the car      ,the    
burnished axle moistened with the       
brine3--      ,thus tow'rd the fleet his
 coursers bore the god40    ,here we    
have1 half-physical1 half-mythological1 
like ,milton's  half-created lion1 the  
fore part perfect1 the hinder part still
 clay1  a well-known natural appearance4
 ,after the storm-winds are laid1 but   
while the sea still feels their power1  
it is thus that the high-crested        
breakers may be seen racing shorewards  
with their white manes backward         

streaming1 and glorified with rainbow   
hues from a bright dawn or a  splendid  
sunset poured upon them from the land4  
,but for the most part1 even ,homer1    
early poet though he was1 has quite     
forgotten that original aspect of       
,nature out of which each god was       
shaped1 and has invested them with      
entirely human attributes1 even with    
human follies and vices1 which have no  
connection at all with the primary      
fact1 but are the wildest freaks of     
extravagant fancy4 ,if then even ,homer 
has so much forgotten the physical      
origin of his mythic gods1 how must  it 
be with the tragic poets6 schylus and   
,sophocles we see have entirely  put    
aside the immoral fables about them1 and
 are anxious to find the  truth which   
lies at the root of the popular belief1 
and to moralize the  whole conception of
 the gods4 ,when we come down to the    
,latin poets1 we do  not find even this 
effort2 but the gods they have borrowed 
from ,greece  are used as mere poetic   

machines1 with as little of either      
physical or  moral meaning as a modern  
romance-writer might use fairies1       
gnomes1 or  hobgoblins4    ,although in 
the more imaginative of modern poets1   
modes of conceiving  ,nature1 and       
expressions every here and there crop   
out1 which in an  earlier age would     
certainly have flowered into mythology1 
it is  nevertheless true that1 ever     
since the literary age set in1 poets in 
general have viewed ,nature with a more 
familiar eye1 and described it in       
language which ordinary speech would not
 disown4 ,i shall now endeavor to       
classify the several ways in which      
,nature is dealt with by the poets1  the
 several aspects of it which enter most 
prominently into ,poetry4 ,it  will be  
enough for my present purpose merely to 
generalize1 under a few  heads1 the most
 obvious of these forms1 without        
attempting to analyze  them or to       
account for them4      ,i4    ,the first
 form ,i shall notice is the expression 

of that simple1  spontaneous1           
unreflecting pleasure which all         
unsophisticated beings feel  in free    
open-air life4 ,we all know how children
 feel when they are let  loose to wander
 at will in green fields1 or by a       
burn-side1 or under  the budding woods  
when the primroses and anemones first   
appear4 ,the  full-grown man1 too1 the  
man of business or letters1 knows       
how--when his  nerves have been         
over-strung and his heart fretted by    
worldly things--a  day abroad under a   
blue sky1 with a soft southwest blowing1
 restores and  harmonizes him4 ,old     
persons1 we may have observed1 who have 
seen and  suffered much1 from whom the  
world and its interests are receding3   
what a  sense of peace and refreshment  
comes over them as they gaze in quiet   
over  a distant landscape with the      
sunlight upon it6    ,this delight1     
which children1 busy men1 and weary age 
alike find in  out-of-door life1 may be 
said to be merely physical1 a thing of  

the  nerves and animal spirits4 ,it is  
so1 no doubt1 but it is something  more4
 ,along with pleasure to the senses1    
there enters in something  more         
ethereal1 not the less real because it  
may be undefinable4 ,this  fresh        
child-like delight in ,nature has found 
expression abundantly in  the poets1    
especially in those of the early time4  
,chaucer1 before all  others1 is full of
 it4 ,as one sample out of many1 take   
this4 ,in the  ,prologue to 8,the       
,legend of ,good ,women10 he tells that 
he has such love to  the daisy that--   
8,when comen is the ,may1      ,then in 
my bed there daweth me no day      ,that
 ,i n'am up and walking in the mead1    
,to see this flower against the sunn    
spread1      ,when it upriseth early in 
the morrow2      ,that blissful sight   
softeneth all my sorrow2      ,so glad  
am ,i when that ,i have presnce      ,of
 it1 to doen it all reverence1      ,as 
she that is of all flow'rs the flow'r40 
,then he goes on to describe himself    

kneeling down on the sod to greet the   
daisy when it first opens3--            
8,and down on knees anon right ,i me    
set1      ,and as ,i could this fresh   
flow'r ,i grette1      ,kneeling always 
till it unclosed was      ,upon the     
small1 and soft1 and sweet gras40    ,so
 we see ,chaucer has been beforehand    
with ,burns1 not to say ,wordsworth1  in
 tender affection for the daisy4    ,the
 same transparent expression of delight 
in the open-air world comes  in         
unexpectedly in some of the old ballads1
 which are concerned with far  other    
matters4 ,thus3--        444            
8,when leaves be large and long         
,it's pleasant walking in good greenwood
        ,to hear the small birds' song4 
,the woodweel sang and would not cease1 
,sitting upon the spray1      ,so loud  
he wakened ,robin ,hood1        ,in     
greenwood where he lay40    ,suchlike   
utterances of ballad-writers and early  
poets might be  multiplied without      
number4 ,it is a penalty we have to pay 

for our late  and over-stimulated       
civilization that such direct and       
unreflecting  expressions of gladness in
 the face of ,nature seem hardly any    
longer possible for a poet4 ,if he will 
be listened to by our jaded1            
sophisticated ears1 it is not enough for
 him to utter once again the            
spontaneous gladness that human hearts  
feel1 and always will feel1 in the      
pleasant air and the sunshine2 he must  
say something about it which shall  be  
novel1 and out of the way1 something    
subtle or analytic1 or strongly         
stimulative4 ,and yet it cannot but be  
that a poet who has a heart keenly      
sensitive to the common sights of earth 
and sky1 and who describes these  with  
the direct freshness which feeling heart
 and clear eye always give1  may still  
do much to win back men from            
over-subtilizing1 and to make them  feel
 as if they have never felt before--    
8,the simple1 the sincere delight1      
,the habitual scene of hill and dale1   

,the rural herds1 the vernal gale1      
,the tangled vetches' purple bloom1     
,the fragrance of the bean's perfume40  
,,ii4    ,the second method ,i shall    
mention is that of using ,nature as a   
background  or setting to human action  
or emotion1--just as we see ,raphael and
 other  old masters1 in their pictures  
of a ,holy ,family1 bring in behind the 
human groups a far-off mountain line1   
with a piece of blue sky or some        
streaks of sunset above it4    ,this is 
the way in which ,nature is very        
frequently used by ,homer in the        
,iliad1 and1 especially1 in the         
,odyssey4 ,it is as a frame or setting  
to  his pictures of human action and    
character4 ,and closely allied to this  
is the way of illustrating the actions1 
the feelings1 sometimes the  sufferings1
 of men1 by striking similes taken from 
the most obvious  appearances of the    
outward world1 or from the doing of wild
 creatures in  ,nature4 ,this is a use  
of ,nature in which the ,iliad of ,homer

 especially  abounds1 although all poets
 down to our own day have freely        
employed it4  ,in the ,iliad there is   
little or no description of the scenes  
in which the  battles are fought4 ,the  
features are hinted at by single        
epithets1 such  as many-fountained ,ida1
 windy ,ilion1 deep-whirlpooled         
,scamander1 and the  presence of ,nature
 you are made to feel by images fetched 
straight from  every element1--from the 
clouds1 the mountain-top1 the woody     
crag1 the  forest1 the sea darkening    
under the western breeze1 the midnight  
sky with  the moon and the stars shining
 in its depths4    ,but there is in the 
,iliad no dwelling on the features of   
the scenes  through which the heroes    
pass1 such as you find in the ,odyssey  
and in  the neid4 ,in these last1 more  
than in the ,iliad1 ,nature is used as  
the  regular framework in which human   
actions are set4 ,i cannot now stay to  
quote passages4 ,we shall in the sequel 
see how large a place is filled1  how   

much of ,nature is let in upon the      
reader by ,homer in his similes1  which 
are almost all taken from common        
occurrences in ,nature or from the      
working of man with ,nature4 ,sometimes1
 however1 we are made to feel the       
presence of ,nature by other methods    
than that of simile4 ,in the thick of   
the great battle in the #aath ,book of  
the ,iliad1 just before ,agamemnon      
breaks forth in his splendid charge1 how
 the mind is relieved by this  glance   
aside from the heat and hurry of the    
battle to the cool and quiet  of this   
woodland scene3--        8,all through  
the dawn1 and as the day grew on        
,from either side the shafts were       
showered amain1      ,and fast the      
people fell4 ,but at the hour      ,when
 the lone woodman in the mountain glens 
,prepares his noonday meal1 for that his
 arms      ,are weary with long labor1  
and his heart      ,had had its fill of 
felling the tall treen1      ,and       
craving for sweet food comes over him2  

,just at that hour the ,danai by sheer  
might      ,broke through their foemen's
 ranks1 each shouting loud      ,to     
cheer his comrade on4 ,first from the   
van      ,forth-leaping1 ,agamemnon slew
 a chief1      ,bienor10    and then he 
presses on through the ,trojan host1 to 
slay1 and slay1 and  slay4      ,,iii4  
,akin to this1 and yet distinct from it1
 is the way of regarding ,nature        
through the light of the human and      
especially the historic events which  it
 has witnessed1 and with which some     
particular spots have become  indelibly 
associated4 ,this1 which ,i may call the
 historic coloring of  ,nature1 has     
been1 of course1 the slow accretion of  
the ages1 and only in  quite modern     
times is it a prominent feature in the  
poets4 ,the poets of  ,greece and ,rome1
 proud as they were of the deeds of     
their countrymen1 do  not seem to have  
visited their great battle-fields nor to
 have hung on  the scenery that         
surrounded them with that romantic      

interest which modern  poets do4        
,marathon1 ,thermopyl1 ,salamis1 names  
of glory as they were1 and  often on    
their lips1 became to the ,greek        
imagination names for deeds1            
abstractions of national achievement1   
rather than actual localities to  be    
visited and gazed on for their own sakes
 and for the memories they  enshrined4  
,it is an ,english1 not a ,greek1 poet  
who seizes the great  features of the   
immortal plain1 and sings--        8,the
 mountains look on ,marathon1      ,and 
,marathon looks on the sea40    ,the    
same1 too1 who1 alluding to the great   
sea-fight1 gives the scenery  also3--   
8,a king sat on the rocky brow          
,that looks o'er sea-born ,salamis1     
,and ships in thousands lay below1      
,and men in nations all were his4       
,he counted them at break of day1       
,and when the sun set where were they80 
,perhaps of all modern poets1 ,walter   
,scott is the one who has looked  on the
 earth most habitually as seen through  

the coloring with which  historic events
 and great historic names have invested 
it4 ,it is not  only that he has in his 
romantic epics described the actual     
features of  the fields of ,flodden and 
of ,bannockburn with a minuteness       
foreign to  the genius of the ancients4 
,he has done this4 ,but1 besides1       
wherever  he set his foot in his native 
land--not in a battle-field alone1 but  
by  ruined keep or solitary moor1 or    
rocky sea-shore or western island--there
  rose before his eye the human forms   
either of the heroic past or of  the    
lowlier peasantry1 and if no actual     
record hung among them1 his  imagination
 supplied the want1 and peopled the     
places with characters  appropriate1    
which shall remain interwoven with the  
very features of the  scenes while the  
name of ,scotland lasts4        8,for   
thou upon a hundred streams1        ,by 
tales of love and sorrow4      ,of      
faithful love1 undaunted truth1         
,hast shed the power of ,yarrow40    ,in

 some men1 not wanting in imagination1  
the only aspect in which scenery        
interests them is when it is linked to  
history4 ,this is conspicuously  seen in
 ,lord ,macaulay4 ,of him his biographer
 writes3--8,the leading  features of a  
tract of country impressed themselves   
rapidly and indelibly  on his           
observation2 all its associations and   
traditions swept at once  across his    
memory2 and every line of good poetry   
which its fame or its  beauty had       
inspired rose almost involuntarily to   
his lips4 ,but compared  with the wealth
 of phrase on which he could draw at    
will when engaged on  the description of
 human passions1 catastrophes1 and      
intrigues1 his stock  of epithets       
applicable to mountains1 seas1 and      
clouds was singularly  scanty1 and he   
had no ambition to enlarge it4 ,when he 
had recorded the  fact1 that the leaves 
were green1 the sky blue1 and the plain 
rich1 and  the hills clothed with wood1 
he had said all he had to say1 and there

 was  an end of it40--,that is1         
,macaulay's imagination was confined to 
human and  historic things1 and was     
irresponsive to the direct touch of     
,nature4    ,but it is not only by such 
localized history or romance as ,scott  
has  given1 that this human coloring    
passes into the impassive earth4 ,there 
is  another more subtle way in which it 
works1 and it is this3--,wherever men   
have been upon the earth1 even when they
 have done no memorable deeds1  and left
 no history behind them1 they have lived
 and they have died1  they have joyed   
and they have sorrowed2 and the sense   
that men have been  there and           
disappeared leaves a pathos on the face 
of many a now unpeopled  solitude4      
,those will know what ,i mean who ever  
have wandered alone through moors  or   
glens in the ,highlands1 where once the 
old clansmen had their homes1  but in   
whence they have long departed4 ,have   
they not felt1 as they  gazed on these  
wildernesses1 where perhaps not even a  

weathered gable  now tells of man1 that 
the outlines of ,nature's lineaments    
were touched  with pensiveness          
indescribable by the atmosphere of      
foregone humanities  that overspread    
them8 ,such are the feelings that are   
awakened as1 far up  in the lap of the  
highest ,bens1 you come on the green    
spots where the  former ,celtic people  
had their summer shielings4 ,in         
,wordsworth's 8,tour in  ,scotland0#i it
 is noticed feelingly1 as we might      
expect3--    8,at the top of a mountain 
encircled by higher mountains at a      
distance1  we were passing without      
notice a heap of scattered stones1 round
 which  was a belt of green             
grass--green1 and as it seemed          
rich--where all else was  either poor   
heather or coarse grass1 or unprofitable
 rushes and spongy  moss4 ,the          
,highlander made a pause1 saying1       
#8,this place is much changed  since ,i 
was here twenty years ago4' ,he told us 
that the heap of stones  had been a hut1

 where a family was then living1 who had
 their winter  habitation in the valley1
 and brought their goats thither in the 
summer  to feed on the mountains1 and   
that they were used to gather them      
together  at night and morning to be    
milked close to the door1 which was the 
reason  why the grass was yet so green  
near the stones4 ,it was affecting in   
that  solitude to meet with this        
memorial of manners passed away4 ,we    
looked  about for some other traces of  
humanity1 but nothing else could we find
  in that place40    ,again3 8,we came  
to several deserted mountain huts or    
shiels1 and rested  for some time beside
 one of them1 upon a hillock of its     
green plot of  monumental herbage4 ,the 
spot of ground where we sat was even    
beautiful1  the grass being uncommonly  
verdant1 and of a remarkably soft and   
silky  texture40 ,the poet1 his sister  
tells1 then felt how fitting a subject  
for  poetry there was in those affecting
 8relics of human society found in  that

 grand and solitary region40      ,,iv4 
,another way in which poets and others  
deal with ,nature is when the heart1    
under the stress of some strong emotion1
 colors all ,nature with its own  hues1 
sees all things in sympathy with its own
 mood1 making        8,all melodies an  
echo of that voice1      ,all colors a  
suffusion from that light40    ,this    
feeling has been expressed in a very    
natural way by ,sir ,walter  ,scott3--  
8,who says1 that when the ,poet dies    
,mute ,nature mourns her worshiper1     
,and celebrates his obsequies2      ,who
 says1 tall cliff and cavern lone       
,for the departed ,bard make moan2      
,that mountains weep in crystal rill2   
,that flowers in tears of balm distill2 
,through his loved groves that breezes  
sigh1      ,and oaks in deeper groans   
reply2      ,and rivers teach their     
rushing wave      ,to murmur dirges     
round his grave40    ,this view of      
,nature has been philosophically        
condensed into a single  stanza of      

,coleridge's ode on ,dejection4 ,he     
says1 that in looking at the  outward   
world                    8,we receive   
but what we give1      ,and in our life 
alone doth ,nature live2      ,ours is  
the wedding garment1 ours the shroud40  
,and then he goes on to say that if in  
,nature we would see                    
8,aught of higher worth        ,from the
 soul itself must issue forth      ,a   
light1 a glory1 a fair luminous mist    
,enveloping the ,earth4      ,and from  
the soul itself must there be sent      
,a sweet and potent voice1 of its own   
birth1      ,of all sweet sounds the    
life and element40    ,now the thought  
here expressed1 false if taken as an    
adequate explanation  of our whole      
attitude towards ,nature1 is eminently  
true of certain moods  of mind when we  
are under strong excitement4 ,it is not 
true that ,nature  is a blank or an     
unintelligible scroll1 with no meaning  
of its own but  that which we put into  
it from the light of our own transient  

feelings4  ,but it is most true that we 
are often so absorbed in our own inward 
moods  that we cannot for the time see  
anything in the outward world but that  
which our eye1 colored by the emotion1  
sends into it4    ,on this subject ,mr4 
,ruskin discourses eloquently and subtly
 in a chapter  in the third volume of   
his 8,modern ,painters10 to which ,i    
would refer  those interested in these  
matters4 ,he calls the tendency to make 
,nature  sympathize with our own present
 feelings 8,the ,pathetic ,fallacy40    
,his  view of the matter is this3 8that 
the temperament which is subject to  the
 ,pathetic ,fallacy is that of a mind   
and body overborne by feeling1  and too 
weak 7for the time7 to deal fully and   
truthfully with what is  before them or 
upon them40 ,he points out that 8this   
state is more or  less noble according  
to the force and elevation of the       
emotion which has  caused it2 but at its
 best1 if the poet is so overpowered as 
to color his  descriptions by it1 then  

it is morbid and a sign of weakness4    
,for the  emotions have vanquished the  
intellect40 ,it is1 he says1 8a higher  
order  of mind1 in which the intellect  
rises and asserts itself along with the 
utmost tension of passion1 and when the 
whole man can stand in an iron  glow1   
white hot1 perhaps1 but still strong1   
and in no wise evaporating2  even if he 
melts1 losing none of his weight40 ,mr4 
,ruskin further says  7p4 #afd71 8,there
 are four classes of men--the men who   
feel nothing1 and  therefore see truly4 
,he might rather have said1 and         
therefore see  nothing4 ,the men who    
feel strongly1 think weakly1 and see    
untruly  7second order of poets74 ,the  
men who feel strongly1 think strongly1  
and see truly 7first order of poets74   
,and the men who1 strong as human       
creatures can be1 are yet submitted to  
influences stronger than they1  and see 
in a sort untruly1 because what they see
 is inconceivably above  them40 ,this   
last he calls 8the usual condition of   

prophetic inspiration40    ,it will be  
conceded to ,mr4 ,ruskin that it is not 
the highest order of  poet who1 as he   
looks out on ,nature1 is so overmastered
 by his emotions  as to be continually  
coloring it with his own mental hues4   
,it is higher  to feel intensely and    
still think truly1 than merely to feel  
intensely  without true thought4 ,but   
,mr4 ,ruskin would allow that for the   
poet1  whether dramatic1 epic1 or other1
 to represent his characters as coloring
  the world with their own excited      
feelings1 is neither falsity nor        
weakness1 but is merely keeping true to 
a fact of human nature4 ,numerous       
instances of this will occur to every   
one4 ,take one from ,shakespeare's      
delineations of character4 ,ariel1      
breaking through the elements and       
powers of ,nature1 quickens the remorse 
of ,alonso1 king of ,naples1 for a      
crime committed twelve years before1    
till the sounds of ,nature become the   
voice of conscience--        8,methought

 the billows spoke and told me of it2   
,the winds did sing it to me1 and the   
thunder1      ,that deep and dreadful   
organ-pipe1 pronounced      ,the name of
 ,prosper3 it did bass my trespass1     
,therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded1
 and      ,i'll seek him deeper than    
e'er plummet sounded1      ,and with him
 there lie mudded40      ,v4            
,connected with this last mode of       
treating ,nature1 but connected in the  
way of contrast1 is what ,i may call the
 ,inhuman and ,infinite side of         
,nature--that side which yields no      
response to man's yearnings1 and refuses
  to make itself plastic under even the 
strongest power of emotion4 ,for as  ,i 
have elsewhere said1#aj outside of and  
beyond man1 aloof from his warm  hopes  
and fears1 his joy and sorrow1 his      
strivings and aspirations1 there  lies  
the vast immensity of ,nature's forces1 
which pays him no homage and  yields him
 no sympathy4 ,this aspect of ,nature   
may be seen even in the  tamest         

landscape1 if we look to the clouds or  
the stars above us1 or to  the          
ocean-waves that roar around our        
shores--        8,those clouds that far 
above us float and pause1      ,whose   
pathless march no mortal may control1   
,those ocean-waves that1 wheresoe'er    
they roll1      ,yield homage only to   
eternal laws40    ,but nowhere is it so 
borne in upon man as in the wilderness  
where no man  is1 in the presence of the
 great mountains which seem so impassive
 and  unchangeable4 ,their strength and 
permanence so contrast with man1 of few 
years and full of trouble--they are     
altogether heedless of his feelings  or 
his destiny4 ,he may smile or weep1 he  
may live or die2 they care not4  ,they  
are the same in all their ongoings1 come
 what may to him4 ,they  respond to the 
sunrises and the sunsets1 but not to his
 emotions4 ,all the  same they fulfill  
their mighty functions1 careless though 
no human eye  should ever look on them4 
,man's heart may be full of gladness1   

yet ,nature  frowns2 he goes forth from 
the death-chamber1 and ,nature affronts 
him  with sunshine and the song of      
birds--        8,nature1 an infinite1   
unfeeling power      ,from some great   
centre moving evermore1      ,keepeth no
 festal-day when man is born1      ,and 
hath no tears for his mortality40    ,it
 seems as though she marched on1 having 
a purpose of her own  inaccessible to   
man2 she keeps her own secret1 and drops
 no hint to him4  ,this side of things1 
whether philosophically or imaginatively
 regarded1  seems to justify the saying 
that 8the visible world still remains   
without  its divine interpretation40    
,and though inexplicable1 perhaps for   
its  very inexplicability1 this         
mysterious silence1 this inexorable     
deafness1  this inhuman indifference of 
,nature1 has oppressed the imagination  
of  some of the greatest poets with a   
vague but sublime awe4 ,the sense of it 
lay heavy on ,lucretius and ,shelley1   
sometimes on ,wordsworth1 and drew  out 

of their souls some of the profoundest  
music4 ,at the present time1  perhaps   
from the increased scientific knowledge 
of ,nature's processes1  this contrast  
between the warm and tender human heart1
 and the cold and  impassive1 almost    
relentless1 elements1 more than ever    
before dominates  the imaginations of   
men4      ,,vi4    ,a sixth mode of     
poetically treating ,nature is that     
which we meet with  in purely           
descriptive poetry4 ,in ,hesiod1 in     
,theocritus1 in the ,georgics  of       
,virgil1 among the ancients1 we have    
examples of pure description  interwoven
 in didactic and idyllic poetry2 but it 
is in modern times  that this kind of   
poetry has chiefly asserted itself4 ,the
 most striking  example of it is        
,thomson's 8,seasons40 ,there we find   
that man is quite  subordinate1 and only
 comes in to set off ,nature and its    
appearances1  which form the main object
 of the poem4 ,as it may seem to be one 
of the  simplest ways of treating       

,nature1 merely to describe it1--to     
picture what  the eye sees and the ear  
hears1--faithfully to reproduce the     
forms and  colors of things1 the        
movements and the sounds which pervade  
them--perhaps  some may think it should 
have been the earliest method4 ,but as a
 fact1  this kind of poetry1 which seems
 so simple1 is the product only of a    
late age4 ,early poets hardly ever      
handle ,nature except to interweave it  
with human action and emotion1 and as   
set-off against the life of man4  ,to   
regard it by itself1 and as existing    
apart from man1 is the mental  attitude 
of a late and cultivated time1 even     
though the descriptions may  seem to be 
plain and unadorned4    ,since writing  
these sentences1 ,i have read in ,mr4   
,stopford ,brooke's  admirable 8,english
 ,literature ,primer0 a passage in which
 he attributes  the earliest efforts at 
poetry of natural description to ,scotch
 poets1  and among these especially to  
,gawain ,douglas1 early in the sixteenth

  century2 and then he1 in another      
place1 points out how1 when this kind of
  poetry came prominently forward in    
more modern times1 it was a ,scottish   
poet who led the way in it4 ,this is    
what he says3--    8,natural scenery had
 been hitherto only used as a background
 to the  picture of human life4 ,it now 
7that is1 in the first thirty years of  
the  eighteenth century7 began to take a
 much larger place in poetry1 and1      
after a time1 grew to occupy a distinct 
place of its own apart from man4  ,the  
best natural description we have before 
the time of ,pope is that of  two       
,puritans1 ,marvell and ,milton4 ,but   
the first poem devoted to natural       
description appeared while ,pope was yet
 alive1 in the very midst of a  vigorous
 town poetry4 ,it was the 8,seasons10   
#agbf-cj2 and it is curious1            
remembering what ,i have said about the 
peculiar turn of the ,scotch for        
natural description1 that it was the    
work of ,james ,thomson1 a ,scotchman4  

,he described the scenery and           
country-life of ,spring1 ,summer1       
,autumn1 and  ,winter4 ,he wrote with   
his eye upon their scenery1 and1 even   
when he wrote  of it in his room1 it was
 with 8a recollected love40 ,the        
descriptions  were too much like        
catalogues1 the very fault of the       
previous ,scotch  poets2 and his style  
was always heavy1 and often cold1 but he
 was the  first poet who led the        
,english people into that new world of  
nature in  poetry1 which has moved and  
enchanted us in the works of            
,wordsworth1  ,shelley1 ,keats1 and     
,tennyson1 but which was entirely       
impossible for ,pope  to understand4    
,the impulse ,thomson gave was soon     
followed40    ,in our own day such      
poetic descriptions of ,nature have     
burst the bonds  of metre altogether1   
and filled many a splendid page of      
poetic or  imaginative prose4 ,many     
instances of this will occur to every   
one4  ,preminent among these are ,mr4   

,ruskin's elaborate word-pictures of    
natural scenery4    ,but of all poetic  
description of ,nature1 it may be said  
that if it is to  reach any high level  
it cannot proceed calmly and unexcitedly
 after the  manner of an inventory4 ,no 
eye can see deeply into the meaning of  
,nature  unless it has also looked as   
deeply into the recesses of the human   
heart1  and felt the full gravity of    
man's life and destiny4 ,it is only when
 seen  over against these that ,nature  
renders back her profounder tones4      
,,vii4    ,there is another way in which
 the poet deals with the external       
world1--when he enters into the life and
 the movement of ,nature by a kind  of  
imaginative sympathy1 and brings it home
 to us by one stroke1 flashing  upon our
 hearts by one touch1 one inspired line1
 a sense of the inner  life of things1  
and a conviction that he has been       
allowed for a moment to  penetrate into 
their secret4 ,this1 which has been     
called1 in a special  way1 the          

interpretative power of ,poetry1 is that
 in which it reaches its  highest       
function1 and exercises one of its      
finest offices of mediation  between the
 soul of man and ,nature4    ,no one1 as
 far as ,i know1 has seen this aspect of
 ,poetry more truly1 or  expressed it so
 felicitously1 as my friend ,mr4        
,matthew ,arnold4 ,if he has  not been  
the first to notice it1 he has certainly
 dwelt on it with more  emphasis than   
any previous writer1 as far as ,i know4 
,for his views on  this subject ,i would
 refer to his delightful ,essay on      
,maurice de ,gurin1  in his volume      
entitled 8,essays on ,criticism40    ,as
 it is well to give a good thought in   
its best possible form1 ,mr4  ,arnold   
will1 ,i know1 forgive me if ,i quote at
 length his own words4 ,he  says3--     
8,the grand power of ,poetry is its     
interpretative power1 by which ,i mean1 
not the power of drawing out in black   
and white an explanation of the  mystery
 of the ,universe1 but the power of so  

dealing with things as to  awaken in us 
a wonderfully full1 new1 and intimate   
sense of them1 and of  our relations    
with them4 ,when this sense is awakened 
in us as to objects  without us1 we feel
 ourselves to be in contact with the    
essential nature  of those objects1 to  
be no longer bewildered and oppressed by
 them1 but  to have their secret1 and to
 be in harmony with them2 and this      
feeling  calms and satisfies us as no   
other can4444 ,poetry indeed interprets 
in  another way besides this2 but one of
 its two ways of interpreting is by     
awakening this sense in us4 ,the        
interpretations of ,science do not give 
us  this intimate sense of objects as   
the interpretations of ,poetry give it2 
they appeal to a limited faculty1 and   
not to the whole man40    ,again ,mr4   
,arnold says3--    8,poetry interprets  
in two ways3 it interprets1 by          
expressing with  magical felicity the   
physiognomy and movement of the outward 
world1 and  it interprets by expressing1

 with inspired conviction1 the ideas and
  laws of the inward world of man's     
moral and spiritual nature4 ,in other   
words1 ,poetry is interpretative by     
having natural magic in it1 and by      
having moral profundity4 ,in both ways  
it illuminates man2 it gives him  a     
satisfying sense of reality2 it         
reconciles him with himself and the     
,universe4 ,the greatest poets unite in 
themselves the faculty of both  kinds of
 interpretation1 the naturalistic and   
the moral4 ,but it is  observable that  
in the poets who unite both kinds1 the  
latter 7the moral7  usually ends by     
making itself the master4 ,in           
,shakespeare the two kinds  seem        
wonderfully to balance each other2 but  
even in him the balance  leans2 his     
expression tends to become too little   
sensuous and simple1 too  much          
intellectualized4 ,the same thing may be
 yet more strongly affirmed  of         
,lucretius and of ,wordsworth40    ,it  
is not1 however1 with moral but with    

naturalistic interpretation that  we    
have now to do4 ,and in this faculty of 
naturalistic interpretation1  perhaps no
 poet--certainly no modern poet--equals 
,keats4 ,in him1 as ,mr4  ,arnold says1 
8the faculty is overpoweringly          
predominant4 ,the natural  magic is     
perfect2 when he speaks of the outward  
world he speaks almost  like ,adam      
naming1 by ,divine inspiration1 the     
creatures2 his expression  corresponds  
with the thing's essential reality40    
,does not ,keats thus bring home to us  
the meaning--the inner secret--of the   
ocean1 and the impression it makes on   
the human heart1 when he speaks of      
8,the voice mysterious1 which whoso     
hears      ,must think on what will be1 
and what has been80    ,it is he that   
interprets the meaning of the summer    
midnight among the  woods1 when he      
says--                8,upon a tranced  
summer night      ,those green-robed    
senators of mighty woods1      ,tall    
oaks1 branch-charmed by the earnest     

stars1      ,dream1 and so dream all    
night without a stir1      ,save from   
one gradual solitary gust      ,which   
comes upon the silence1 and dies off1   
,as if the ebbing air had but one wave40
    ,or take one more instance4 ,all    
know the stern1 almost grim1 feeling of 
solitude about some little              
crag-engirdled lochan or tarn far up the
 heart  of a ,highland mountain4 ,who   
has given this feeling of grim solitude1
  so death-like that any living thing or
 sound startles you there1 as           
,wordsworth1 by these two strokes8--    
8,there sometimes doth a leaping fish   
,send through the tarn a lonely cheer2  
,the crags repeat the raven's croak     
,in symphony austere40    ,or again1 who
 has not felt as though he had a new    
revelation made to him  about the starry
 sky and the mountain-stillness after   
reading for the  first time these two   
well-known lines8--        8,the silence
 that is in the starry sky1      ,the   
sleep that is among the lonely hills40  

,or once more3 who has so called up the 
impression produced by the sound  of    
waters heard among the mountains as     
,wordsworth1 when he thus speaks8--     
8,in mute repose      ,to lie and listen
 to the mountain-flood      ,murmuring  
from ,glaramara's inmost caves40    ,but
 ,i have dwelt too long on this aspect  
of ,poetry1 its penetrating power  of   
naturalistic interpretation when the    
poet1        8,with an eye made quiet by
 the power      ,of harmony and the deep
 power of joy10    is given to see into 
the life of things1 and seeing1 makes us
 share his  insight1 makes us partakers 
for a moment at least in                
8,that blessed mood      ,in which the  
burthen of the mystery1      ,in which  
the heavy and the weary weight      ,of 
all this unintelligible world      ,is  
lightened40    ,even if it be but a     
transient glance1 a momentary lightening
 of the  burden that he lends us1 it is 
one of the most intimate and delicate   
services--one of the highest and rarest 

functions which the poet or any  man can
 perform4      ,,viii4    ,once more3   
the last and highest way in which       
,nature ministers to the soul  and      
spirit of man is when it becomes to him 
a symbol translucent with the  light of 
the moral and spiritual world4 ,or1 in  
other words1 the highest  use to which  
,imagination can put this visible world 
is1 to gather from it  some tidings of  
the world invisible4    ,this use is    
seen when the sights and sounds of      
,nature1 coming in through  eye and ear 
to the soul1 hint at and foreshow 8a    
higher life than this  daily one1 a     
brighter world than that we see40 ,it is
 ,coleridge who has  said that 8it has  
been the music of gentle and pious minds
 in all ages1  it is the poetry of all  
human life1 to read the book of ,nature 
in a  figurative sense1 and to find     
therein correspondences and symbols of  
the  spiritual world40 ,that this is no 
mere fanciful use to make of ,nature1   
that in cultivating the habit of thus   

reading it we are cultivating a  power  
which is grounded in reason and the     
truth of things1 can hardly be  doubted1
 if we believe that the things we see1  
and the mind that sees  them1 have one  
common origin1 come from one ,universal 
,mind1 which gives  being to and upholds
 both alike4 ,this seeing of spiritual  
truths mirrored  in the face of ,nature 
rests not on any fancied1 but in a real 
analogy  between the natural and the    
spiritual worlds4 ,they are1 in some    
sense  which ,science has not           
ascertained1 but which the vital and    
religious  imagination can perceive1    
counterparts the one of the other ,the  
highest  authority for this belief1 as  
well as its truest exemplification1 we  
have  in the ,parables of our ,lord4 ,it
 was on this truth that ,he grounded a  
large part of his teaching4    ,i need  
but allude to what is so familiar2 only 
let us1 before we pass  on1 think of    
what is implied in this teaching1 which 
we have all known  from our             

childhood1--the growth of the ,divine   
life in the soul represented  by the    
growth of the corn seed in the furrow1  
the end of the world or  of this on set 
forth by the reapers and the harvest4   
,simple as this  teaching is1 level to  
the child's capacity1 it yet involves a 
truth that  lies deeper than any        
philosopher has yet penetrated1 even the
 hidden bond  that connects things      
visible with things invisible4          
,archbishop ,trench has said well on    
this subject3#aa--8,on this rests  the  
possibility of a real and not a merely  
arbitrary teaching by  ,parables--that  
the world of ,nature is throughout a    
witness for the world  of spirit1       
proceeding from the same hand1 growing  
out of the same  root1 and constituted  
for that very end4 ,all lovers of truth 
readily  acknowledge these mysterious   
harmonies4 ,to them the things on earth 
are  copies of the things in heaven4    
,they know that the earthly tabernacle  
is  made after the pattern of things    

seen in the ,mount1 and the question of 
the ,angel in ,milton often forces      
itself on their meditations--           
#8,what if earth      ,be but the shadow
 of heaven1 and things therein          
,each to other like1 more than on earth 
is thought8'0    ,but to leave these    
heights of inspired teaching1 we find   
everywhere the  more meditative poets   
deriving from visible ,nature hints at  
that which  eye has not seen nor ear    
heard4 ,one of the simplest and most    
child-like  instances of this that      
occurs to me is that beautiful thought  
of ,isaac  ,walton3--        8,how joyed
 my heart in the rich melodies          
,that overhead and round me did arise6  
,the moving leaves--the waters' gentle  
flow--      ,delicious music hung on    
every bough4      ,then said ,i1 in my  
heart1 ,if that the ,lord      ,such    
lovely music on the earth accord2       
,if to weak sinful man such sounds are  
given--      ,oh6 what must be the      
melody of ,heaven60    ,something of the

 same thought comes out in a more       
reflective way in many  of the poems of 
,henry ,vaughan1#ab a writer of the same
 age as ,walton1  and one1 like him1 now
 less known and read than he deserves to
 be4 ,take  the following1 in which     
,vaughan speaks of the vivid insight of 
his  childhood in a strain in which some
 have thought that they overheard the   
first note of that tone which           
,wordsworth has sounded more fully in   
his  8,ode on the ,intimations of       
,immortality04 ,it is thus ,vaughan     
speaks of his  childhood3--             
8,happy those early days when ,i        
,shined in my angel-infancy2      ,when 
yet ,i had not walked above      ,a mile
 or two from my first love1      ,and   
looking back1 at that short space1      
,could see a glimpse of ,his bright face
      ,when on some gilded cloud or     
flower      ,my gazing soul would dwell 
an hour1      ,and in those weaker      
glories spy      ,some shadows of       
eternity2      ,and feel through all    

this fleshly dress      ,bright shootes 
of everlastingness40    ,such thoughts  
may be deemed by some to be fanciful and
 not practical4  ,certainly they are not
 much in vogue at the present time4 ,but
 as one has  said1 8,i cannot conceive a
 use of our knowledge more practical    
than to  make it connect the sight of   
this world with the thought of another40
  ,nor can any be more needed by us1 or 
more consolatory4 ,for is it not the    
experience of each individual as he     
grows more thoughtful1 as well as the   
experience of the race1 that the        
visible1 the outward1 cannot satisfy8   
,is it not the very best element in man 
that makes him feel forever after       
something higher1 deeper1 more enduring 
than the things he sees8 ,if we  turn   
aside from this tendency1 and seek to   
quench it1 we do so at the  cost of     
destroying that which is the best1 the  
noblest inheritance of our              
humanity1--the piece of divinity in us4 
,this suggestive power of ,nature1 and  

its unsufficingness1 have been felt  by 
all men who have any glimpse of the     
ideal in them2 by none has it been  more
 deeply felt1 or more adequately        
expressed1 than by him1 the great       
preacher--poet as well as preacher--of  
our age4 ,i mean1 ,dr4 ,newman4 ,as the 
prose words in which he expresses this  
feeling are in the highest sense        
poetry1 ,i cannot1 ,i think1 do better  
than give the thought in his own        
perfect language4 ,he is speaking in the
 opening of ,spring3--    8,let these be
 your thoughts1 especially in this      
,spring season1 when the  whole face of 
,nature is so rich and beautiful4 ,once 
only in the year yet  once1 does the    
world which we see show forth its hidden
 powers1 and in a  manner manifest      
itself4 ,then there is a sudden rush and
 burst outwardly  of that hidden life   
which ,god has lodged in the material   
world4 ,well1  that shows you1 as by a  
sample1 what it can do at his command1  
when ,he  gives the word4 ,this earth   

which now buds forth in leaves and      
blossoms1  will one day burst forth into
 a new world of light and glory4 ,who   
would  think1 except from his experience
 of former ,springs all through his     
life1 who could conceive two or three   
months before that it was possible  that
 the face of ,nature1 which then seemed 
so lifeless1 should become so  splendid 
and varied8 ,how different is a prospect
 when leaves are on it1  and off it6    
,how unlikely it would seem before the  
event that the dry and  naked branches  
should suddenly be clothed with what is 
so bright and so  refreshing6 ,yet in   
,god's good time leaves come on the     
trees4 ,the season  may delay1 but come 
it will at last4    8,so it is with the 
coming of that eternal ,spring for which
 all ,christians  are waiting4 ,come it 
will1 though it delay4 ,therefore we say
 day by day1  ,thy kingdom come2 which  
means1 ,o ,lord1 show thyself--manifest 
thyself4 ,the  earth that we see does   
not satisfy us2 it is but a beginning2  

it is but  a promise of something beyond
 it2 even when it is gayest1 with all   
its  blossoms on1 and shows most        
touchingly what lies hid in it1 yet it  
is not  enough4 ,we know much more lies 
hid in it than we see4444 ,what we see  
is  the outward shell of an eternal     
kingdom1 and on that kingdom we fix the 
eyes of our faith4444 ,bright as is the 
sun and sky and the clouds1 green  as   
are the leaves and the fields1 sweet as 
is the singing of the birds1  we know   
that they are not all1 and we will not  
take up with a part for  the whole4     
,they proceed from a centre of love and 
goodness1 which is ,god  himself1 but   
they are not his fullness2 they speak of
 heaven1 but they  are not heaven2 they 
are but as stray beams and dim          
reflections of his  image2 they are but 
crumbs from the table4 ,we are looking  
for the coming  of the day of ,god1 when
 all this outward world1 fair though it 
be1 shall  perish4444 ,we can bear the  
loss1 for we know it will be but the    

removing  of a veil4 ,we know1 that to  
remove the world which is seen will be  
the  manifestation of the world which is
 not seen4 ,we know that what we see is 
a screen hiding from us ,god and        
,christ1 and his saints and angels2 and 
we  earnestly desire and pray for the   
dissolution of all that we see1 from    
our longing after that which we do not  
see40    ,such are the thoughts and     
longings which the sight of the vernal  
earth  can awaken in a spiritual mind   
well used to heavenly meditations4      
,if some of us are so sense-bound that  
such thoughts seem fantastic and  unreal
 to them1 all that can be said is1 ,the 
more's the pity4 ,even the  best among  
us will probably not venture to         
appropriate such thoughts  as if these  
were our habitual companions1 but they  
may have in some  brighter moments known
 them4 ,at all events they know what    
they mean1 and  are assured that as they
 themselves grow in spirituality1 the   
beauty  that clothes this visible world1

 while it soothes1 does not suffice1 but
  becomes more and more the hint and    
prophecy of a higher beauty which  their
 heart longs for4    ,and now1 in       
looking back on these several ways in   
which poets have  handled ,nature1 two  
thoughts suggest themselves3--    #a4   
,the ways ,i have noted are far from    
exhausting all the possible or even     
actual modes in which poets deal with   
,nature1 or1 in other words1 in  which  
,nature lends itself to the poet's      
service4 ,they are but a few of  the    
most prominent and obvious4 ,it may     
interest some to look for others1  and  
to add them to the classification here  
given4    #b4 ,though one mode may be   
more prominent in one poet1 and one in  
another1  yet no poet is limited to only
 one1 or even two1 of these several ways
  of adapting ,nature to his purposes4  
,in the works of the greatest poets1    
those of largest and most varied range1 
perhaps every one of these modes1  and  
more besides1 may be found4 ,to find out

 and arrange under heads all  the ways  
in which say ,shakespeare and ,milton   
deal with ,nature1 would be  an         
interesting study for any one who is    
young1 and has leisure for it4    ,with 
one reflection ,i close this part of my 
subject4 ,any one who has  ever been    
brought to meditate on the relation     
which the abstractions  of mathematics  
bear to the ,laws of ,nature must have  
felt how exceeding  wonderful it is4 ,a 
system of thought evoked out of pure    
intelligence has  been found reflected  
and1 as it were1 embodied in the actual 
movements of  the heavenly bodies1 and  
bringing the whole ,physical ,cosmos    
within the  power of man's thought--    
8,from star to star1 from kindred sphere
 to sphere1      ,from system on to     
system1 without end40    ,such a one1 ,i
 say1 must have been filled with wonder 
at this marvelous  adaptation and       
correspondence between the mind of      
transitory man and the  vast movements  
of the most remote and permanent of     

material things4    ,a like1 though a   
different1 wonder must arise when we    
reflect how1  in the various modes above
 noted1 and no doubt in many more1      
outward  ,nature lends itself to be the 
material in which so many of man's      
highest  thoughts and emotions can work 
and embody themselves4    ,of the poets 
and this visible world we may truly     
say1--        8,they took the whole     
earth for their toy1        ,they played
 with it in every mood2      ,a cell for
 prayer1 a hall for joy1        ,they   
treated ,nature as they would40    ,he  
who has once perceived the wonderful    
adaptation which exists between  the    
mind of man and the external world--how 
exquisitely the individual  mind1 as    
well as the mind of the race1 is fitted 
to the world1 and the  external world   
fitted to the mind1--if he has once     
vividly felt the  reality of this       
adaptation1 he must have paused in      
wonder at himself1  and at the world    
that encompasses him1 and become        

penetrated with an  immediate           
conviction1 deeper than all arguments   
can reach1 that the  reasonable soul    
within him1 and the material world      
without him1 which on  so many sides is 
seen to be the embodiment of reason1 and
 which yields up  its secret to man's   
intelligence1 and is so plastic to his  
imagination  and emotions1--that these  
two existences so answering to each     
other1  and so strangely communing with 
each other1 are both rooted in the one  
,central and ,universal ,intelligence   
which embraces and upholds both ,nature 
and ,man4          ,,chapter ,,ix4      
,,nature ,,in ,,hebrew ,,poetry1 ,,and  
,,in ,,homer4      ,the method pursued  
in this book has been1 beginning with   
some general  views1 from these to      
descend to special illustrations1 in    
order to  exemplify what has been said  
of ,poetry in a general way1 by pointing
 to  the several methods which the poets
 have actually followed in delineating  
,nature and her aspects4    ,it will be 

but to carry out somewhat more in detail
 the same procedure  if ,i now adduce a 
few samples of the way in which some of 
the greatest  poets of each age and     
country have in their works shown their 
feeling  towards ,nature4 ,to exhaust   
this subject would require a large      
treatise4  ,a chapter or two is all that
 can here be afforded to it4 ,in        
glancing  thus1 which is all we can do1 
at a few of the great mountain-summits  
of  song1 many a lesser elevation in the
 long line of poetry1 that might well   
repay attention1 must needs be passed in
 silence4 ,i shall begin with the       
earliest poets we know1 and come down to
 those near our own time4 ,in  such a   
survey it is to the ,east that the eye  
naturally turns1 and there  especially  
to the singers of ,israel2 for1 as to   
the view of ,nature which  the ,hindu   
,vedas may contain1 this is a subject on
 which ,i do not venture1  since at best
 ,i could but repeat at second-hand what
 others have said4    ,in considering   

the views of ,nature presented by       
,hebrew poetry1 it is not  to the       
account of the creation in ,genesis that
 we turn1 but to the many  passages in  
the ,psalms1 the ,prophets1 and the     
,book of ,job1 in which the  aspects of 
the outward world1 as they appeared to  
those old seers1 are  delineated4       
,humboldt and many others have remarked 
that the description  by the ,hebrew    
,poets of the material world everywhere 
reflects their faith  in the unity of   
,god1 and in his immediate presence in  
all creation4 ,the  world is described1 
not so much in detail1 but as a whole1  
in its vast  expanses and great         
movements2 or1 if individual objects are
 dwelt on1 as  in the ,book of ,job1 it 
is as the visible witnesses to the      
transcendent  power of the ,invisible   
,one4 ,nature is nowhere spoken of as an
 independent  and self-subsistent power1
 but rather as the outer chamber of an  
,unseen  ,presence--a garment1 a veil1  
which the ,eternal ,one is ever ready to

 break  through4 ,these characteristics1
 which pervade the entire poetry of the 
,old ,testament1 are perhaps nowhere    
seen so condensed as in that crowning   
hymn of the visible creation1 the #ajdth
 ,psalm4    ,this ,psalm presents1 as   
has often been remarked1 a picture of   
the entire  ,universe1 which for        
completeness1 for breadth1 and for      
grandeur1 is  unequaled in any other    
literature4 ,where else1 in human       
language1 shall  we find the whole      
,universe1 the heavens and the earth1   
and the ongoings  of man in the midst of
 them1 sketched1 as here1 in a 8few bold
 strokes08--    8,the ,lord covereth    
himself with light as with a garment4   
,he hath  stretched the heavens like a  
canopy4 ,he laid the foundation of the  
round  world that it should not be      
removed forever4 ,the waters springing  
in the  mountains descend into the      
valleys1 unto the places which the ,lord
 hath  appointed for them1 that they may
 never pass the bounds which ,he hath   

set them4 ,he sendeth the springs into  
the valleys1 which run among the  hills1
 to give drink to every beast of the    
field1 for the wild asses  to quench    
their thirst4444 ,beside them the birds 
of the air sing among  the branches40   
,the fruits of the field1 too1 are      
there2 grass and green  herb2 the labors
 of man1 wine and oil of olive2 all the 
creatures1 the  conies1 the wild goats1 
the lions roaring after their prey1 and 
seeking  their meat from ,god4 ,there1  
too1 is the great and wide sea1 and the 
wondrous creatures it contains1 and the 
heavenly bodies are rounding in  the    
whole4 ,and then that touching contrast 
between the moving life of  the elements
 and the quiet yet laborious life of    
man1 encompassed by  these vast         
movements1--8,man goeth forth unto his  
work and his labor until  the evening40 
,and all this picture of the ,universe  
contained within  thirty-five short     
verses6 ,besides this1 the special      
,psalm of the visible  creation1 there  

is the #feth ,psalm1 and many another   
passage in the  ,psalms1 which describe 
so touchingly the way in which ,god     
deals with the  earth through natural   
processes4    ,again1 ,i need hardly    
refer to the ,book of ,job1 especially  
from the #cgth  to the #dast chapters1  
where both single appearances of the    
world and the  arrangement of the whole 
are depicted in language which has      
graven itself  on the heart of all      
nations3 8,the ,lord walks on the       
heights of the sea1  on the ridges of   
the towering waves heaped up by the     
storm40 ,or again3  8,the morning dawn  
illumines the border of the earth1 and  
moulds variously  the canopy of clouds  
as the hand of man moulds the ductile   
clay40    ,or turn again to the great   
poet-prophet ,isaiah4 ,here you find no 
detailed  descriptions1 but all ,nature 
fused and molten before the intense     
fire1  now of his indignation1 now of   
his adoring awe1 now of his spiritual   
joy2  one moment lifting his eyes to the

 midnight heavens as the proof and      
witness of the ,divine ,omnipotence2    
another1 in his soul's exultation over  
,god's redemptive mercy1 calling aloud  
to the heavens to sing1 and the  lower  
parts of the earth to shout for joy1    
8,break forth into singing1 ye          
mountains1 ,o forest and every tree     
therein40    ,but this transport comes  
from no mere love of ,nature4 ,it has a 
deeper  origin4 ,it is for that ,jehovah
 hath comforted his people1 and will    
have  mercy upon his afflicted4 ,this is
 the solemn spiritual joy in which he   
calls on the heavens and the earth to   
sympathize4    ,the following seem to be
 some of the chief notes of ,hebrew     
poetry in its  dealing with ,nature3--  
#a4 ,nature1 as we have seen1 is never  
represented as an independent power  or 
as resplendent with her own beauty1 but 
as the direct creation1  one might      
almost say1 the garment of the great    
,jehovah4 ,in fact it is  remarkable    
that the word ,nature1 in the sense we  

now use it in1 never  occurs in the     
,bible4 ,neither the word nor the thing1
 as a separate  entity1 seems ever to   
have been present to the ,hebrew mind4  
,in everything  they saw or heard ,god  
himself as immediately present1 ready as
 it were to  rend the veil and manifest 
himself4    #b4 ,the sober1 truthful    
estimate of all things in the external  
world4  ,they are spoken of exactly as  
they are4 ,there is no temptation to    
make  too much of them2 for ,he who is  
behind them and who made them is so     
much greater1 so much more present to   
thought1 that reverence for ,him        
precludes exaggeration4 ,the accuracy of
 the ,bible descriptions of these       
things is quite unexampled in other     
literature4#ac ,this faithfulness to    
fact1 this veneration for natural truth1
 this feeling that things are too       
sacred to be exaggerated or distorted1  
or in any way trifled with1 comes       
directly from the habit of regarding all
 visible ,nature as created and         

continually upheld by ,one ,omnipresent 
,god4 ,habitual reverence for ,him  from
 whom they come sobers the writers and  
makes them truthful4    #c4 ,connected  
with this is the absence of all tendency
 to theorize or  frame hypotheses about 
,nature's ongoings4 ,this of course     
comes from  the pervading habit of      
referring all effects directly to the   
,divine  will2 and yet there is no want 
of philosophic wonder1 for1 as ,humboldt
  remarks1 the ,book of ,job proposes   
many questions about natural things     
8which modern science enables us to     
propound more formally1 and to clothe   
in more scientific language1 but not to 
solve satisfactorily40 ,lastly1  there  
is a deep-hearted pathos1 8a yearning   
pensiveness10 as it has been  called1 in
 the ,hebrew poetry1 over man's mortal  
condition1 as when in  images straight  
from ,nature it describes his life here 
as 8a wind that  passeth away and cometh
 not again10 or 8as a flower of the     
field so he  flourisheth1 for the wind  

passeth over it and it is gone1 and the 
place  thereof shall know it no more40  
,simple images1 yet how true for all    
generations6      ,,homer4    ,when we  
turn from the ,hebrew to the ,greek     
poetry1 as represented by  the father of
 it1 ,homer1 we find ourselves in       
another atmosphere4 ,it  is not merely  
that in the regard which the great poet 
casts on ,nature1  mythology1 a fading  
and only half-alive mythology1 still    
lingered4 ,it  is not this only1 but it 
is that in his thoughts of ,nature there
 is not  the same awful reverence1 the  
same profound pathos2 but there is more 
of  the artistic sense of beauty1 that  
artistic sense which is only fully      
developed when the profounder feelings  
are comparatively laid asleep4    ,no   
land known to the ancients1 perhaps ,i  
might say no land ever known  to men1   
has supplied such visual stimulus to the
 imagination as  ,greece2--scenery so   
richly diversified1 a land beyond all   
others various  in features and         

elements1 mountains with their bases    
plunged into the  sea1 valleys          
intersected by great rivers1 rich plains
 and meadows inlaid  between the        
hill-ranges1 deeply indented shores1    
promontories wood-clad  or              
temple-crowned looking out on the       
many-islanded1 gean2--around it1 on     
every side1 seas so beautiful1 above it 
such a canopy of sky1 changing  through 
every hour and every season1 and calling
 forth from sea and land  every color   
which sunlight and gloom can elicit4    
,if of all nations the ,greeks were     
endowed with the keenest sensibility to 
beauty1 and if ,homer was their chief   
and representative poet1 it could       
hardly be but that scenery so varied    
should melt into his imagination and    
reflect itself in his poetry4 ,and so it
 is4 ,homer lived most probably  on the 
,ionian coast of ,asia ,minor1 where he 
had ever before his eye the             
island-studded gean1 behind him the rich
 valleys opening down to the  coast1 and

 eastward the great mountain ranges     
where these rivers are  cradled2 could  
it be that of all this his poetry should
 give no sign8  ,i cannot agree with    
,mr4 ,ruskin's criticism of the ,homeric
 scenery4 ,you  will find it in the     
third volume of his 8,modern ,painters10
 chapter xiii41  on ,classical          
,landscape4 ,like everything which ,mr4 
,ruskin writes1 it is  interesting and  
suggestive1 but ,i cannot think it      
adequate or wholly  true4 ,of the       
,greeks he says3 8,they shrank with     
dread or hatred from  all the ruggedness
 of lower nature--from the wrinkled     
forest bark and  the jagged hill-crest1 
and irregular inorganic storm of sky1   
looking  to these for the most part as  
adverse powers1 and taking pleasure only
  in such portions of the lower world as
 were at once conducive to the  rest and
 health of the human frame1 and in      
harmony with the laws of its  gentler   
beauty40 ,again he says3 8,as far as ,i 
recollect1 without a single  exception1 

every ,homeric landscape1 intended to be
 beautiful1 is composed  of a fountain1 
a meadow1 and a shady grove40 ,again3   
8,it is sufficiently  notable that      
,homer1 living in mountainous and rocky 
countries1 dwells  delightedly on all   
the flat bits2 and so ,i think          
invariably the  inhabitants of          
mountainous countries do2 but the       
inhabitants of the  plains do not1 in   
any similar way1 dwell delightedly on   
mountains40    ,now1 in this passage1   
the general assertion seems to be much  
too  sweeping1 and1 in the special      
instance of ,homer1 ,i think it is not  
true4  ,mr4 ,ruskin backs his position  
by reference to various passages in the 
,odyssey which seem to bear him out1 but
 in any fair estimate we must take  in  
the ,iliad as well as the ,odyssey4     
,in the ,iliad the descriptions of      
,nature are not so detailed as in the   
,odyssey4 ,indeed1 they occur almost    
entirely in similes2 but these the  poet
 fetches from every realm and feature of

 ,nature--from the mountain1  the       
forest1 the sea1 especially as seen     
darkening under the coming of  the      
western breeze2 from the cloudy and the 
midnight sky2 from all kinds  of wild   
animals1 the lion1 the fawn1 the hawk1  
and the boar4 ,in his  battle-scenes it 
is to all the sterner and fiercer       
aspects of ,nature1  and habits of wild 
beasts1 that he has recourse for his    
comparisons4 ,and  would he have so     
often invoked the aid of these wild     
forces and creatures  of his imagination
 had not he delighted in them8    ,so   
when ,teucer slays ,mentor1 it is thus1 
as rendered by ,lord ,derby3--          
8,down he fell1      ,as by the         
woodman's axe1 on some high peak        
,falls a proud ash1 conspicuous from    
afar1      ,leveling its tender leaves  
upon the ground40    ,it is thus the    
charge of ,hector is described when he  
beat back the ,greeks  and penned them  
at their ships3--        8,on poured the
 ,trojan masses2 in the van      ,hector

 straight forward drove in full career4 
,as some huge bowlder1 from its rocky   
bed      ,detached1 and by the wintry   
torrent's force      ,hurled down the   
steep cliff's face1 when constant rains 
,the massive rock's firm hold have      
undermined2      ,with giant bounds it  
flies2 the crashing wood      ,resounds 
beneath it2 still it hurries on1        
,until1 arriving at the level plain1    
,its headlong impulse checked1 it rolls 
no more40    ,or take another similitude
 drawn from the sea4 ,when the poet     
wishes to  describe how the ,achan      
phalanxes come on to battle1 this is the
 image he  employs3--        8,and as a 
goatherd from his watch-tower crag      
,beholds a cloud advancing o'er the sea 
,beneath the west wind's breath2 as from
 afar      ,he gazes1 black as pitch1 it
 sweeps along      ,o'er the dark face  
of ocean1 bearing on      ,a hurricane  
of rain2 he1 shuddering1 sees      ,and 
drives his flock beneath the sheltering 
cave4      ,so thick and dark about the 

,argives stirred1      ,impatient for   
the war1 the stalwart youths1           
,black masses1 bristling close with     
spear and shield40    ,or again1 when1  
after ,agamemnon has retired wounded    
from the battle1  ,hector comes forth   
and slips his ,trojans on the ,achan    
host1 as some  hunter slips his         
white-teethed hounds on a wild boar or a
 lion1 and  himself        8,fell on    
their battle1 as some roaring storm     
,leaps down and heaves the sleeping     
violet sea40    ,one after another he   
lays low the chiefs1 and their names    
fill three  hexameters4                 
8,of the leaders these      ,he slew1   
then on the nameless people fell        
,as when with hurricane deep the west   
wind smites      ,white summer clouds   
high piled by the clear south1      ,and
 volumed wave on wave comes shoreward   
rolled1      ,and the white flying foam 
is scattered high      ,before the loud 
blast of far-wandering wind40    ,let me
 now give one instance of ,homer's      

feeling for the aspect of the  nightly  
heavens4 ,it shall be taken from the    
place of the ,iliad where the  ,trojans1
 after a day of successful battle1      
having driven back the ,greeks1  rest   
for the night4 ,and here ,i shall quote1
 not1 as in the above passage1  from    
,lord ,derby's translation1 but from a  
rendering of the passage by  the        
,poet-,laureate4 ,it is the only passage
 of ,homer in which we have the         
,laureate's handiwork3--        8,so    
,hector said1 and sea-like roared his   
host1      ,then loosed their sweating  
horses from the yoke1      ,and each    
beside his chariot bound his own1       
,and oxen from the city1 and goodly     
sheep      ,in haste they drove1 and    
honey-hearted wine      ,and bread from 
out their houses brought1 and heaped    
,their firewood1 and the winds from off 
the plain      ,rolled the rich vapor   
far into the heaven4      ,and there all
 night upon the bridge of war      ,sat 
glorying1 many a fire before them       

blazed2      ,as when in heaven the     
stars about the moon      ,look         
beautiful1 when all the winds are laid1 
,and every height comes out1 and jutting
 peak      ,and valley1 and the         
immeasurable heavens      ,break open to
 their highest1 and all the stars       
,shine1 and the shepherd gladdens in his
 heart2      ,so many a fire between the
 ships and stream      ,of ,xanthus     
blazed before the towers of ,troy4      
,a thousand on the plain2 and close by  
each      ,sat fifty in the blaze of    
burning fire2      ,and champing golden 
grain the horses stood      ,hard by    
their chariots waiting for the dawn40   
,these few samples of the similes       
scattered thick throughout the ,iliad   
show that ,homer laid all the           
appearances of ,nature under            
contribution1  and the wildest and      
grandest not less than those that are   
home-like4    ,true it is that ,homer in
 the ,iliad nowhere stops to paint      
scenery for  its own sake4 ,he does this

 less than ,virgil or most later epic   
poets4  ,he is so full of business and  
of human action that he cannot stay for 
description4 ,but in such passages as   
the ,catalogue of the ,grecian ,host  in
 the second book1 there are brief but   
fine touches of geographical  landscape1
 as he tells of the many lands whence   
they came2 or again in  his fixed but   
most suggestive epithets of places1 as  
8the windy ,ilion10  8many-fountained   
,ida10 and the deep-whirlpooled         
,scamander2 ,lacedmon in  the hollow of 
the hills2 ,messe1 haunt of wild doves2 
vine-clad ,epidaurus2  windy ,enerpe2   
,orchomenus rich in flocks4    ,i would 
that ,i could linger over this subject  
and quote some more  passages1 such as  
that where ,achilles1 long absent1      
returns to the  conflict1 and the       
immortal gods come down to range        
themselves1 some with  the ,greeks1 some
 on the side of ,troy2 and heaven and   
earth1 the mountains  and the rivers and
 the sea and the nether world beneath1  

all are moved to  take part in the great
 issue4    ,but ,i must pass on to the  
scenery of the ,odyssey4 ,no doubt this 
poem  contains much more description of 
landscape than the ,iliad1 and in that  
description1 as ,mr4 ,ruskin says1 there
 seems to be a preference for  the tame 
and domestic rather than for the wild in
 ,nature4 ,but is there  not enough in  
the subject and circumstance of the two 
poems to account  for such difference8  
,ulysses1 the much-traveled1            
much-suffering man1  who had endured so 
many things by land and sea1 his        
home-sick heart is  yearning for his    
native ,ithaca4 ,that his heart should  
be weary of the sea  and the mountains  
and all wild untractable things is only 
too natural4  ,it is quite in keeping   
with and as a set-off against this      
feeling of  home-weariness that the     
poet1 in describing such a wanderer1    
should dwell  with peculiar emphasis on 
all that is warm and comfortable and    
home-like  in scenery4    ,let me give  

one or two samples from ,worsley's      
translation of the  ,odyssey1 which ,i  
am disposed to think is the best poetic 
translation of  any classical poet that 
we have in ,english4 ,mr4 ,worsley      
rendered the  hexameters of ,homer into 
the ,spenserian stanza1 and he so       
perfectly  caught the whole rhythm and  
cadence of ,spenser1 and this answers so
 well  to the spirit of the ,odyssey1   
the most romantic of ,greek poems1 that 
,i  know no more delightful reading than
 those picturesque and melodious        
stanzas4    ,here is one sample4        
,ulysses1 having left ,calypso's island 
on a raft1 is  shipwrecked in mid-seas1 
and this is the description of his      
coming to  land on the island of        
,phacia3--        8,two nights and days 
in the tumultuous swell      ,he        
wandered4 ,often did his heart forebode 
,utter extinction in the yawning hell1  
,but when the fair-haired ,dawn arising 
glowed1      ,and in the eastern heaven 
the thin light showed1      ,came a     

calm-deepening day1 windless and clear4 
,then when ,odysseus on a tall wave     
rode1      ,and his keen eyes along the 
heaving mere      ,stretched in extreme 
desire1 he saw the land rise near4      
8,as when a father1 on the point to die1
      ,who for long time in sore disease
 hath lain1      ,by the strong ,fates  
tormented heavily1      ,till the pulse 
faileth for exceeding pain1      ,feels 
the life stirring in his bones again2   
,while glad at heart his children smile 
around1      ,he also smiles--the gods  
have loosed his chain2      ,so welcome 
seemed the land with forest crowned1    
,and he rejoicing swam1 and yearned to  
feel the ground4        8,but now within
 a voice-throw of the rocks      ,the   
sound of waters did his ears appall4    
,full on the coast the great waves'     
thunder-shocks      ,roll1 and afar the 
wet foam-vapors fall4      ,no roadstead
 there1 no haven seemed at all1         
,nor shelter where a ship might rest at 
ease2      ,but from the main-earth     

darted a wild wall      ,of headlands4  
,then ,odysseus' heart and knees        
,were loosened2 and his soul thus spake 
in the deep seas40    ,then follows a   
fine description of his struggle with   
the breakers1 and  how his flesh was    
torn and his skin peeled against the    
sharp rocks3--        8,he from the     
echoing breakers swam right fain1       
,skirting the coast2 if chance his eyes 
explore      ,or far or near some haven 
of the main1      ,or mild declivity of 
shelving shore4      ,but when he came  
the river-month before1      ,and his   
gaze rested on the long white gleam1    
,by rocks unchafed and windless         
evermore1      ,here to his thought best
 landing-place did seem1      ,and in   
his soul he prayed1 feeling the calm    
sweet stream40    ,then the landing and 
climbing up into the wood1 and hiding   
himself under  a mound of gathered      
leaves3--                    8,where    
o'er his weary head1      ,athene all   
night long pain-healing slumber shed40  

,but ,i recommend every one to read the 
last hundred lines of the fifth  book of
 the ,odyssey4 ,it is one of the most   
natural and beautiful  descriptions of  
sea-coast scenery1 heightened in its    
interest by the  presence of man in     
strife with the waters1 that is to be   
found in any  poet4    ,the whole of    
this passage is commented on by ,mr4    
,ruskin at length1 but ,i  think his    
comments are one-sided and overdone4 ,no
 doubt the shipwrecked  man kisses the  
corn-growing land when at last he       
reaches it1 and gladly  covers himself  
with the dead leaves4 ,but it is not1 as
 ,mr4 ,ruskin says1  that the ,greek    
mind shrank from wild things1 and took  
pleasure only in  things subservient to 
human use4 ,it is because it was the    
action natural  to a shipwrecked man    
just escaped from the hateful sea to hug
 the land he  had so much toil to reach2
 and it was natural for a poet1 when    
describing  his hero tossed and drenched
 for days amid the hungry foam1 to bring

  out in strong contrast all the warmth 
and comfort of the dry cheerful         
earth4#ad    ,one sample of ,homer's    
home-painting must be given1 where we   
see--                8,all things are in
 order stored--              ,a home of 
ancient peace20--        8,outside the  
court-yard stretched a planted space    
,of orchard1 and a fence environed all  
the place4        8,there1 in full      
prime1 the orchard-trees grew tall1     
,sweet-fig1 pomegranate1 apple fruited  
fair1      ,pear and the healthful      
olive4 ,each and all      ,both summer  
droughts and chills of winter spare4    
,all the year round they flourish4 ,some
 the air      ,of zephyr warms to life1 
some doth mature1      ,apple grows old 
on apple1 pear on pear1      ,fig       
follows fig1 vintage doth vintage lure2 
,thus the rich revolution doth for age  
endure4        8,with well-sunned floor 
for drying1 there is seen      ,the     
vineyard4 ,here the grapes they cull1   
there tread4      ,here falls the       

blossom from the clusters green1        
,there the first blushings by the suns  
are shed4      ,last1 flowers forever   
fadeless1 bed by bed2      ,two streams3
 one waters the whole garden fair2      
,one through the court-yard1 near the   
house is led1      ,whereto with pitcher
 all the folk repair4      ,all these   
the ,god-sent gifts to ,king ,alcinous  
were40    ,i might go on to quote the   
description of ,calypso's cave1 and many
  another landscape with which this     
,greek romance abounds4 ,indeed1 it     
would  take a summer day to exhaust the 
passages descriptive of ,nature in the  
,odyssey and the ,iliad alone1 before we
 could arrive at an adequate idea  of   
the ,homeric view of ,nature4 ,this only
 ,i will say and pass on--that  in the  
,odyssey you do find that the scenes    
most lovingly depicted are  home scenes 
of order1 comfort1 and repose4 ,but this
 is not because1 as  ,mr4 ,ruskin says1 
the ,greek mind abhorred the wildness of
 nature1 but  because1 with such a      

character to describe as ,ulysses1      
battered by the  strokes of doom1       
travel-weary and home-sick1 the natural 
framework to  such a human figure1 that 
which gives at once contrast and relief1
 is a  setting taken from the reposeful 
side of ,nature4 ,of storm and trouble  
you have had enough in the human        
character4 ,nature here must furnish the
  background of repose4 ,but in the     
,iliad1 if we look at the similes1 we   
find them taken from every form and     
aspect of ,nature--the wild and vast  as
 well as the homely and the minute4 ,the
 poet gathers images from every         
element1 earth1 sky1 and sea1 mountain  
and meadow2 but all are used1 not  for  
their own sakes1 not to dwell on        
themselves alone1 but to bring out  by  
similitude the force of the human       
passions and actions1 which are the     
substance of the epic4 ,but the poet who
 could so use ,nature1 making her a     
storehouse of images whence he drew at  
will1 must have lived familiarly  in the

 eye of ,nature1 loving her in all her  
aspects with a true though  unconscious 
love4          ,,chapter ,x4    ,,nature
 ,,in ,,lucretius ,,and ,,virgil4       
,when from the representations of       
,nature in ,homer1 and indeed in all    
the ,greek poets1 we turn to the rural  
descriptions of the ,roman poets1  we   
feel that we have passed into a wholly  
different atmosphere4 ,if  there were no
 other there is at least this cardinal  
distinction between  them3--,the ,greeks
 had no antiquity behind them1 at least 
no earlier  literature to come between  
them and the open face of things4 ,they 
saw at  first hand with their own eyes1 
felt with their own hearts1 described   
in their own words4 ,the ,romans1 those 
at least of the literary age1  before   
they wrote a line that has come down to 
us1 had received the whole  ,hellenic   
learning and poetry poured in upon them1
 so that the very air of  ,italy was    
colored with the hues of ,greece4 ,this 
makes it so difficult1 in  studying the 

productions of any ,roman poet--their   
descriptions of ,nature  not less than  
other things--to be sure that you have  
the features of  ,italian scenery pure  
and uncolored1 and that they have not   
been tinged  and refracted by the       
,hellenic medium of associations and    
language through  which they were       
habitually beheld4 ,no doubt the ,romans
 originally were  and never ceased to be
 a country-loving people4 ,the pictures 
that have  come down to us of           
,cincinnatus1 and of other worthies of  
the early  ,republic1 represent even    
their greatest generals and dictators as
 living  on paternal farms in rural     
thrift and simplicity4 ,but there       
remains no  poetry coeval with that     
primitive time4 ,before we reach their  
poets the  day of small estates and     
patrician life in the fields is over1   
all ,italy  is held in vast domains by  
rich senators who themselves lived in   
the  city1 and committed the care of    
their lands to a bailiff with hordes of 

slaves4    ,in the last half-century of 
the ,republic1 to which belong the      
earliest  ,roman poets who describe     
,nature1 the town life1 varied by       
retirement to  the ,tiburtine or ,sabine
 villa1 was universal among the poets   
and their  associates4 ,some of them had
 passed their childhood in the rustic   
life of  distant provinces1 and the     
remembrance of that life still lives in 
their  poetry1 as in ,catullus1 and more
 distinctively in ,virgil4 ,the earliest
  pictures of ,nature that occur in any 
,roman poetry are to be found not  in   
pastoral or idyl1 but in the great      
philosophic poem that expounds an       
elaborate system of ,nature4 ,lucretius 
was too earnest a preacher of his       
,atomic ,philosophy to linger over      
descriptions of scenery for their own   
sake4 ,nevertheless1 his wearisome      
expositions of materialistic system are 
relieved by many a beautiful            
illustration drawn directly from the    
,nature  which his own eyes had seen1   

and portrayed with a clearness of       
outline  and a startling vividness1 in  
which1 as ,professor ,sellar has truly  
said1  he is unrivaled in antiquity save
 by ,homer4 ,the rigorous dogmatism of  
a mechanical philosophy is in him       
combined with the keenest eye to all    
the appearances of the outer world1     
minute as well as vast4 ,evidently he   
had lived much in the open air1 had been
 a haunter of all waste places1  wild   
mountain ranges1 dripping caves1        
solitary sea-shores4 ,he had noted  all 
the sights1 listened to the sounds and  
the silences1 and observed  the ways of 
the wild creatures that dwell there4    
,his impressions he has  stamped in many
 a noble line1 that comes in with       
delightful freshness to  illustrate his 
prolix argument4 ,his eye was upon the  
smallest and most  sequestered          
appearances1 as the many-colored shells 
on the shore1 and  the dripping of water
 over moss-covered rocks2 but still more
 familiarly  did his imagination move   

with the great elemental movements of   
,nature1  and when the storms and winds 
were up1 he found himself 8one among the
  many there40 ,according to the        
philosophy he had adopted1 and earnestly
  propounded1 all the most beautiful and
 mysterious aspects of things were  the 
mere products of dead mechanic forces4  
,but the genius of the poet  at times   
shook itself free from the trammels of  
his creed1 and rose to  the             
contemplation1 not of a dead mechanic   
world1 but of one informed by  a vast   
life1 which moves through all material  
things1 and makes them  instinct with   
unity4    ,in the language of the       
philosophers1 while consciously he      
taught only a  ,natura naturata1 his    
imagination and sympathy grasped1 in    
spite of him1  a ,natura naturans4 ,it  
is impossible that any great poet1      
however his  understanding may be caught
 in the meshes of mere materialism1 can 
in  his hours of inspiration rest       
contented with that4 ,assuredly         

,lucretius  did not4 ,accordingly1 we   
find him here and there breaking out    
into the  earliest utterance of that    
mystical ,pantheistic feeling about the 
life of  ,nature1 which we shall find   
reappearing in ,virgil1 and which has   
recurred  so powerfully in modern       
poetry4    ,catullus1 the poet          
contemporary with ,lucretius1 is too    
much absorbed in  love and friendship1  
finds too exciting an interest in the   
society of  man1 to give much time to   
,nature4 ,in his most original poems1 or
 at least  those in which he most speaks
 out his feelings1 ,nature holds little1
  almost no place4 ,two poems refer to  
his villa at ,tibur1 with1 however1     
little mention of any rural pleasures   
connected with it4    ,the well-known   
lines on his return to his home at      
,sirmio1 on the ,lago  di ,garda1 for   
all their wonderful charm1 breathe more 
of the love of  home and rest after long
 voyaging than of enjoyment in ,nature  
for her  own sake4 ,his more elaborate  

and artistic poems contain some         
beautiful  natural images and similes1  
expressed with that unstudied felicity  
and  clear sense of beauty which        
distinguished him4 ,but they do not come
 to  more than side glances by the way1 
as he hurries on to his human theme4    
,it has1 however1 been remarked1 that   
while to ,lucretius1 to ,horace1 even   
to ,virgil1 the sea is a thing of dread 
rather than of admiration1 from  which  
they shrank as a treacherous creature1  
,catullus felt the grandeur  of its     
immensity1 and rejoiced in the laughter 
of the waves in calm1 and  in their     
changing colors beneath the storm4      
,germans have written learned books1    
some to maintain1 others to deny1  that 
the ancient ,greeks and ,romans had any 
feeling for ,nature1 or1 as  the phrase 
goes1 were inspired by the sentiment of 
,nature4 ,schiller has  gone as far as  
to deny that ,homer had any more caring 
for ,nature than  he had for the        
garment1 the shield1 the armor1 which he

 describes with  equal relish4 ,in the  
face of such an assertion we have but to
 read a few  passages from ,homer above 
cited1 and innumerable others like them4
 ,no  doubt the ancients had not that   
intimate1 delicate1 dwelling sympathy   
for ,nature which we call the modern    
feeling4 ,but there is hardly a tone  of
 sentiment which ,nature in modern times
 has evoked1 of which some  faint       
prelude at least might not be found     
among them4 ,passages from the          
dialogue1 and especially from the       
choruses1 of ,sophocles and ,euripides1 
might1 had we time1 have been cited1    
which speak of natural objects with     
almost as much fondness as though they  
had been written yesterday4    ,one side
 of this feeling1 which is dwelt on as  
peculiarly a birth of  recent times1 is 
the passion for mountains4 ,and no doubt
 the feeling of  the ,latin poets as    
they thought of them was for the most   
part shuddering  and affright4 ,yet     
,virgil1 though he generally speaks the 

same language1  seems at times to catch 
something of their free and far delight1
 as  when he speaks of ,father ,apennine
 roaring with all his holm-oaks1 and    
rejoicing to heave his snow-white summit
 into the sky4 ,in such a passage  it   
would seem as though the power of hills 
was for a moment on him1 and  he caught 
a prophetic glimpse of that             
mountain-rapture which was reserved  for
 this century at last adequately to     
express4 ,quinctilian1 however1         
represents the current feeling of his   
countrymen when he says1 8,species      
maritimis1 planis1 amnis10--,beauty     
belongs to countries that lie beside    
the sea1 level and pleasant4    ,but    
granting that the feeling for ,nature   
among the ,romans was thus  limited1 if 
one wished to prove that it was real1   
one would be content to  point to       
,virgil alone4 ,his preminence as a poet
 of the country was early  recognized by
 his friend and contemporary1 ,horace3--
                      8,molle atque     

facetum      ,virgilio annuerunt        
gaudentes rure ,camn10--    ,to ,virgil 
the ,muses of the country gave the gift 
of delicacy and artistic  skill4 ,when  
,horace thus wrote of his friend only   
the ,eclogues had as yet  appeared4 ,but
 the two greater poems which ,virgil    
afterwards produced1  among their other 
merits1 elevate him1 as a lover and     
describer of  natural scenes1 to a place
 which his earlier poems alone would not
 have  won for him4    ,with regard to  
the ,eclogues1 the purely imitative and 
conventional  character of their        
language1 personages1 and sentiment1 is 
well known4  ,but for long it was       
believed that their scenery at least was
 real1  borrowed from ,mantua and the   
banks of his native ,mincio4 ,but later 
critics have shown that imitation       
penetrated even here1 and that as  the  
sentiments and substance of the         
,eclogues are all borrowed from         
,theocritus1 not less is the framework  
of scenery in which these are  set4 ,the

 vine-clad cave in which the shepherd   
reclines1 the briery crag  from which he
 sees his goats hanging1 the mountains  
that cast long  shadows toward evening1 
these1 it is said1 are nowhere to be    
seen in the  neighborhood of ,mantua1   
but belong entirely to ,sicily4 ,some   
even assert  that neither the ilex1 the 
chestnut1 nor the beech grows anywhere  
near  the banks of the ,mincio4 ,yet    
even amid the prevailingly ,sicilian    
scenery  there are touches here and     
there1 where he reverts to what his own 
eyes  had seen1 as where he describes   
his farm as covered with bare stones and
  slimy bulrushes1 and the ,mincio as   
weaving for his green banks a fringe  of
 tender reeds4    ,even though the      
imagery of the ,eclogues may be borrowed
 from the ,sicilian  poet1 yet here1 as 
every where1 ,virgil is no mere         
translator1 but proves  by the tender   
grace of the language in which he       
clothes the borrowed  imagery his       
feeling for original ,nature4 ,in the   

fifth ,eclogue1 when two  shepherds have
 been playing each his finest strain1   
partly to please1  partly to emulate the
 other1 at the close1 ,menalcas says to 
,mopsus3--        8,such is thy song to 
me1 ,o singer divine6      ,as is sleep 
upon the grass to weary men1 as in      
summer heat1      ,thirst to slake with 
pleasant water from the leaping brook40 
,and then when ,menalcas has sung his   
strain this is the reply of ,mopsus3--  
8,what gifts1 what shall ,i render thee 
for such a song8      ,for not so       
delightful to my ear is the sighing of  
the coming south        wind1      ,nor 
the beating of billows upon the shore1  
,nor the sound of streams down-falling  
through the rocky glens40    ,of these  
and such-like images the first hints may
 have been from  ,theocritus1 but       
assuredly they have won a new charm in  
their passage  through the mind of      
,virgil4    ,but if the scenery of the  
,eclogues partakes in some measure of   
the  conventional mould in which the    

whole of the poems are cast1 the        
,georgics are poetry in earnest1 dealing
 with a real subject1 and  describing1  
in many places at least1 real           
landscapes4 ,doubtless here1  too1 as   
everywhere1 ,virgil is the learned poet2
 his mind comes to his  subject laden   
with the spoils of all antiquity4 ,as he
 describes natural  objects1 all the    
associations which ancient ,mythology   
and ,greek poetry  had thrown around    
them use spontaneously before him4 ,thus
 he would  often seem to look at things 
not at first-hand with his own eyes1 but
  through the media which former poets  
had fashioned for him4 ,but this1 if  we
 think of it1 is one element of the     
consummate art of the ,georgics4  ,the  
poet had to raise a homely subject above
 the dust of commonplace1  to add       
dignity to objects and processes which  
in themselves might seem  undignified1  
or even vulgar4 ,therefore he takes the 
husbandman back to  earlier times1 and  
invests his toils with all the          

veneration and sanctity  which primeval 
tradition has shed around them1 and     
teaches him to feel  that in his        
pursuits he is one with the first       
forefathers of the race4  ,this archaic 
coloring1 richly yet delicately         
suffused1 invests the poem  with a      
peculiar charm4 ,just so a modern poet1 
wishing to throw around the  life of    
shepherd and husbandman1 even in our own
 days1 an air of ancient  reverence1    
might still revert to ,bible stories of 
the patriarchs--to ,jacob  and ,rachel  
meeting by the well1 to ,ruth in the    
corn-field1 and ,david  among the       
sheep-cotes of ,bethlehem4 ,but making  
full allowance for all  that is archaic 
and mythological in the allusions to    
distant ages and  ,eastern lands1 there 
remains a large background of landscape 
in which the  plains of ,mantua and     
,campania lie spread before us1 and the 
intense skies  of ,italy bend overhead4 
,such a passage as the following is     
surely the work of one who had  watched 

and loved the alternations of the       
,italian summer3--        8,but when    
glad summer at the west winds' call     
,shall send the flocks to woods and     
pastures free1      ,then 'neath the    
star of dawn on the cool fields         
,let browse thy sheep and goats1 while  
morn is young1      ,and the fresh dew  
lies hoary on the grass--      ,the dew 
on tender blade1 to cattle dear4        
,when the fourth hour of day brings     
parching thirst1      ,and in the trees 
cicadas' notes are loud1      ,then bid 
the herd at wells and deep clear pools  
,drink the stream running from full     
oaken troughs4      ,but in the deep    
noon heat a shady vale      ,seek1 if   
perchance some oak of antique bulk      
,there spread his giant boughs2 or some 
grove dark      ,with many a holm-oak's 
gloom reposeth nigh      ,in hallowed   
shadow4 ,then at set of sun      ,once  
more supply clear streams and drive     
afield      ,thy flock1 when eventide   
cools all the air1      ,and the moon   

dewy-moist repairs the lawns      ,with 
freshness1 while the shores with halcyon
 notes      ,resound1 the copses with   
the goldfinch song40    ,it has         
generally been held that one of the most
 prominent notes  of ,virgil's genius   
was his sympathy with ,nature4 ,to this 
the late  ,professor ,conington1 whose  
opinion on whatever concerned ,virgil   
deserves  all respect1 used to demur1   
and to maintain rather that his chief   
characteristic lay in an elaborate and  
refined culture1 manifesting  itself in 
the most consummate delicacy and grace4 
,but though ,virgil was  before all     
things the poet of learned culture and  
artistic beauty1 this  did not hinder1  
rather prompted him1 to turn on ,nature 
a sympathetic  and loving eye4 ,the     
perception of a sympathy between the    
feelings and  vicissitudes of man and   
the world that surrounds him appears    
nowhere so  strongly as in his latest   
poem1 the neid4 ,it may have been that  
as his  subject led him much into       

battles and adventures1 alien to his    
taste1 he  seized all the more eagerly  
every opportunity of reverting to that  
,nature  which had been his earliest    
delight4    ,whatever be the cause1 the 
pictures of ,nature1 whether in         
description  or in simile1 are more     
frequent1 more intimate1 more tender1   
than in  either of his earlier          
productions4 ,it has been noticed1 for  
instance1  that at the beginning of the 
sixth book1 as the ,sibyl draws nigh1   
the  earth rumbles1 the mountains quake1
 as if sharing the human dread at her   
approach2 and that throughout the fourth
 book there is maintained a fine        
sympathy between the aspects of the     
outer world and the passions which      
agitate the human actors4    ,it is thus
 he sets off the tumult in the soul of  
the lovelorn and wronged  queen in      
contrast with the calm and silence of   
night3--        8,now night it was1 and 
everything on earth had won the grace   
,of quiet sleep2 the woods had rest1 the

 wildered waters' face3      ,it was the
 tide when stars roll on amid their     
courses due1      ,and all the tilth is 
hushed1 and beasts1 and birds of many a 
hue1      ,and all that is in waters    
wide1 and what the waste doth keep      
,in thicket rough1 amid the hush of     
night tide lay asleep1      ,and        
slipping off the load of care forgat    
their toilsome part4      ,but ne'er    
might that ,phnician queen1 that most   
unhappy heart1      ,sink into sleep1 or
 take the night into her eyes and       
breast1      ,her sorrows grow1 and love
 again swells up with all unrest40      
,is not the feeling here what would be  
called quite modern8 ,for its tone1     
might it not have been written          
yesterday8 ,this contrast between       
,nature's  repose and the tumult of the 
human heart1 thus consciously felt and  
expressed1 belong to a late and         
self-conscious age4 ,in ,homer you may  
see  such contrasts1 as when ,helen1    
looking from the walls of ,troy1 misses 

her  true brothers from among the       
,achaian host1 and says that they kept  
aloof  from the war1 fearing the        
reproach which she had brought on       
herself and  them4 ,and the poet adds3--
        8,so spake she1 but them already
 the life-giving earth covered      ,in 
,lacedmon there1 in their dear native   
land40    ,here the contrast is only    
half consciously felt1 hinted at        
obliquely1  not brought into prominence4
 ,to emphasize and dwell on the         
contrast1 as  ,virgil does1 is modern1  
one of the many points in which the     
,latin poet's  feeling is like that of  
our own day4    ,many more passages     
might be cited where ,virgil turns aside
 from his epic  narrative to dwell over 
natural scenes4 ,the elaborate          
description of the  storm in the first  
book2 the sail through the ,ionian      
,islands2 the night  passed on the      
,sicilian coast with tna heard          
thundering overhead through  the dark1  
in the third book2 the island1 in the   

fifth book1 which is made  the goal     
round which the racing-boats row2 the   
fleet entering the mouth  of the ,tiber 
while the calm morning lies ruddy on the
 sea2--these are a  few which come to   
mind4    ,but it is in the many similes 
scattered throughout the neid that the  
,virgilian grace and tenderness is seen 
at its best4 ,it has been the  fashion  
with the commentators to trace back     
every one of ,virgil's similes  to      
,homer or some other ,greek poet4 ,and  
the two ,i shall now give have not      
wholly escaped this imputation1 though  
there seems small foundation for  it in 
their case4    ,in the boat-race1 when  
,mnestheus1 having run his boat into a  
narrow and  sheltered passage among     
rocks1 has with difficulty scraped      
through and  shot again into open sea1  
this is ,virgil's comparison3--         
8,as a dove scared suddenly from a cave1
      ,where she has her home and dear  
nestlings in the crannied rock1         
,hurries fieldward in her flight1 and   

with flurried pinions      ,loudly flaps
 the roof--soon gliding in calm air     
,skims her smooth way1 sailing aloof on 
moveless wings40    ,again1 when neas1  
led by the ,sibyl1 descends to the      
nether world1 and  arrives at the shores
 of the river ,styx1 the ghosts of the  
dead come  flocking round him in        
crowds3--        8,numerous as the      
leaves in the woods that at first touch 
of autumn's        cold      ,gliding   
fall2 or numerous as the birds that     
flock together shoreward        from the
 deep1      ,when wintry weather drives 
them across the sea1 and sends them into
        sunny lands40    ,the full      
beauty1 however1 of passages like these 
cannot be felt when  they are detached  
from the whole scene1 in which they are 
inlaid4 neas  traveling far into the    
nether gloom1 through ,pluto's empty    
halls and  ghastly realms of the dead1  
is a picture almost too dismal4 ,but how
  exquisitely does ,virgil relieve his  
own heart and that of the reader1 by    

letting in on that sad world these      
glimpses of a land still gladdened by   
the sun6    ,if you compare ,virgil with
 ,homer1 where they describe the same   
natural  objects1 or even where the     
,latin poet borrows his similes directly
 from  the ,greek1 you cannot but feel  
how wide is the difference between them4
  ,there is no more the entire          
outwardness1 the self-forgetting        
serenity of  ,homer's descriptions1 the 
colorless transparency as of a mountain 
range1  whose every stone and blade of  
grass lies reflected in the clear depths
  of an unmoving lake4 ,received into   
,virgil's heart the outward world       
becomes colored with some of the        
melancholy of the poet and his time4    
,not  that to ,virgil's eye there was   
any sadness in ,nature herself1 but in  
his  hands ,nature becomes so humanized1
 it so lends itself to human joys and   
sorrows1 that these cast their own      
gleams1 and still more their shadows1   
on that1 in itself1 unimpassioned       

countenance4 ,this sympathy between man 
and ,nature ,virgil apprehended more    
feelingly than any other ,roman poet2   
and in this1 as in so many other things1
 we find in him an anticipation  of the 
modern time4 ,as compared with          
,lucretius1 ,virgil deals with ,nature  
in a less sublime1 but more human way4  
,lucretius demands the explanation  of  
,nature and her processes1 ,virgil seeks
 to enter into her feeling1 to  catch   
her sentiment4 ,as a ,french author has 
expressed it3 8,lucretius is  not so    
much arrested by the beauty of ,nature1 
as roused by its mystery1  to extort the
 secret of it4 ,i admire thee1 he seems 
to say1 but on  condition that ,i may   
investigate and understand thee40 ,in   
,lucretius man  and ,nature stand over  
against each other1 observer and        
observed3 they do  not meet and         
interpenetrate each other4 ,between     
,virgil and the outward  world there is 
no such philosophic barrier2 his        
feelings flow freely  forth to it1 and  

there find more or less                 
satisfaction1--satisfaction  as from a  
familiar companion2 whether familiar by 
the associations of  childhood or       
through the cherished learning of later 
years4    ,lucretius had1 as we know1 a 
philosophic faith about ,nature1 which  
satisfied his understanding1 if it did  
not satisfy what was deeper in him  than
 understanding--that high imagination   
and poetic instinct which at  times     
craved a more spiritual interpretation4 
,virgil1 on the other hand1  had no     
consistent theory regarding that ,nature
 which he apprehended so  feelingly4 ,in
 general he acquiesced in the orthodox  
mythology which he  had received from   
the tradition of the poets4 ,and yet1   
while he accepted  it for poetic1 or    
even patriotic reasons1 he must1 when he
 thought of  it1 have felt strange      
misgivings4 ,for the mythologic faith   
had entirely  ceased1 to be real to     
himself or to his educated countrymen4  
,that he  longed at times to penetrate  

the secret of ,nature1 and to know the  
causes of things1 he himself assures us4
 ,but there is no evidence in  his      
poetry that he ever rose to as clear a  
conception of one all-ruling  ,divine   
,power as even ,cicero had probably     
reached4 ,there are1 however1 two       
well-known passages1 one in the fourth  
,georgic1 the other in the sixth  neid1 
in which ,virgil expresses a mystic and 
pantheistic theory as to  an            
all-pervading life of the world1 which1 
if it cannot be called his  philosophic 
belief1 seems to have been to him at    
least more than a mere  poetic fancy4   
,lucretius1 impelled by the craving of  
his imagination for  life1 not death1   
had in the opening of his poem and      
elsewhere allowed  such a feeling1 as it
 were1 to escape him1 but had never     
recognized  it as an article of his     
faith4 ,in ,virgil it approaches more   
nearly to  a consciously held belief1 or
 at least to a possible solution of the 
mystery of ,nature4 ,it has been        

reserved for modern times to give fuller
  expression to the same tendency of    
thought1 sometimes as a mere feeling1   
sometimes as a conviction4 ,but however 
such a view may have expressed  passing 
phases1 either of thought or feeling1 it
 has never1 either now or  in ancient   
times1 approached to be a solution which
 can satisfy at once  reason1 heart1 and
 conscience4    ,since these remarks on 
,virgil were in the press1 ,professor   
,sellar's work  on ,virgil has appeared4
 ,if ,i could have read it before       
writing the above  pages1 ,i should     
probably have said more of ,virgil's    
treatment of ,nature1  or less4 ,as it  
is1 ,i have allowed what ,i had said to 
remain unchanged4  ,those who wish to   
see this and every other aspect of      
,virgil's poetry  treated in the most   
thorough and instructive way1 will be   
amply rewarded  by the study of         
,professor ,sellar's book4              
,,chapter ,,xi4    ,,nature ,,in        
,,chaucer1 ,,shakespeare1 ,,and         

,,milton4      ,to pass from the        
,virgilian view of ,nature to that of   
our earliest  ,english poet1 though it  
brings us nearer our own age in time1 is
 really  to recede from it in feeling to
 a remote and primitive antiquity4 ,no  
poet ever loved ,nature more than       
,chaucer did2 but it was with a simple1 
unreflective1 child-like love4 ,the     
,morning ,star of ,english ,song1 as he 
has been called1 man of the world and   
skilled in affairs1 at home in  courts  
and with the great1 conversant with the 
ways of all men1 high  and low1 could   
turn aside from the gorgeous imagery    
that filled his  poetic vision1 from the
 profusion of medival ceremonies and    
cavalcade1  of high processions with    
soldiers in armor1 caparisoned horses   
and  bedizened ladies1 from gallant     
knights with lordly manners1 and homely 
country-people1 from sights and stories 
fetched from many lands1--to dwell      
tenderly on the plain sights and sounds 
of external nature1 and to sing  of them

 with the transparency and sweetness of 
a child4 ,it was ,nature in  her 8first 
intention10 her most obvious aspects1   
that attracted him4  ,once1 indeed1 in  
the 8,assembly of ,foules10 he speaks of
 8that noble  ,goddesse of ,nature40    
,this1 however1 is not his usual        
language1 but rather  a conventional way
 of speaking caught from the ,latin     
poets he had read4  ,again1 in a more   
serious strain1 the same poem speaks    
thus3--        8,nature1 the vicare of  
the ,almightie ,lord20    but it is not 
on ,nature as a great whole1 much less  
as an abstraction1  that his thought    
usually dwells4 ,it is the outer world  
in its most  concrete forms and objects1
 with which he delights to interweave   
his  poetry--the homely scenes of ,south
 ,england1 the oaks and other forest    
trees1 the green meadows1 quiet fields1 
and comfortable farms1 as well  as the  
great castles where the nobles dwelt4   
,one associates him with  the green     
lanes and downs of ,surrey and ,kent1   

their natural copsewoods  and undulating
 greenery4 ,i know not that the habitual
 forms of ,english  landscape1 those    
which are most rural and most unchanged1
 have ever  since found a truer poet1   
one who so brings before the mind the   
scene  and the spirit of it uncolored by
 any intervention of his own thought  or
 sentiment4 ,and his favorite season--it
 is the ,may-time4 ,of this he is  never
 tired of singing4 ,when there comes a  
really spring-like day in ,may1  the    
east wind gone1 and the west wind       
blowing softly1 the leaves coming  out1 
and the birds singing1 at such a season 
one feels instinctively this  is the    
,chaucer atmosphere and time4 ,one      
passage has been cited in a  former     
chapter in which ,chaucer speaks of the 
daisy very lovingly4 ,other  passages   
might be cited in which he turns again  
and again to the same  flower1 proving  
that it was a favorite with one poet    
before either ,burns  or ,wordsworth4   
,let me give one more passage which     

gives the characteristic landscape of   
,chaucer and his feeling about it3--    
8,when shours sote of rain descended    
soft1      ,causing the ground fel times
 and oft      ,up for to give many a    
wholesome air1      ,and every plain was
 y-clothed fair        8,with new green1
 and maketh small flow'rs      ,to      
springen here and there in field and    
mead      ,so very good and wholesome be
 the show'rs1      ,that they renewen   
that was old and dead      ,in winter   
time1 and out of every seed             
,springeth the herb1 so that every wight
      ,of this seasn waxeth right glad  
and light4        444            8,up ,i
 rose three hours after twelfe          
,about the springing of the gladsome    
day1      ,and on ,i put my gear and    
mine array1      ,and to a pleasant     
grove ,i 'gan to pass      ,long ere the
 bright sun uprisen was2        8,in    
which were oaks great1 straight as a    
line1      ,under the which the grass so
 fresh of hue      ,was newly sprung2   

and an eight foot or nine      ,evry    
tree well from his fellow grew1         
,with branches broad laden with leavs   
new1      ,that sprungen out against the
 sunn sheen1      ,some very red1 and   
some a glad light green1        8,which 
7as me thought7 was a right pleasant    
sight2      ,and eke the birds songs for
 to hear      ,would have rejoicd any   
earthly wight2      ,and ,i1 that could 
not yet in no mannere      ,hearen the  
nightingale of all the year1      ,full 
busily heark'ned with heart and ear4    
,if ,i her voice perceive could         
anywhere40    ,this is exactly the      
,chaucer landscape4 ,the forest trees   
are described  each after their kind2   
even the varieties of color of oak      
leaves in  spring-time he notes1 some   
coming out 8very red10 some of a golden 
green  hue--a fact not noticed1 as far  
as ,i remember1 by any other poet2 the  
soft  green grass1 as soft as velvet    
under foot1 he is never done praising2  
the note of each song-bird he knows and 

delights in4 ,these1 with here  and     
there a quaint old garden described1    
such is the scenery in which  his human 
portraits are inlaid4 ,he is altogether 
one of the most amply  descriptive of   
,english poets till we arrive at quite  
recent times4 ,and it  is one sign of   
the permanence and stability of         
,england1 even amidst all  change1 that 
among the copsewoods of ,kent and the   
lanes of ,surrey just  such scenes may  
be seen any spring-day now as ,chaucer  
loved to describe  nearly five hundred  
years ago4 ,this unchanged landscape is 
everywhere in  his poetry blended with  
the medival manners and costumes that   
have long  since passed1 as a modern    
poet1 in phrase like ,chaucer's own1 has
 well  sung3--                    8,he  
listeneth to the lark1      ,whose song 
comes with the sunshine through the dark
      ,of painted glass1 in leaden      
lattice bound1      ,he listeneth and he
 laugheth at the sound1      ,then      
writeth in a book like any clerk40      

,,shakespeare4    ,the drama is the last
 form of poetry to which we would turn  
in hope  of finding rural objects and   
scenery described4 ,yet it is           
astonishing  how much of this kind can  
be culled from a careful search through 
,shakespeare's plays4 ,indeed it has    
been remarked how much of out-of-doors  
life there is in ,shakespeare's dramas1 
how much of the action is carried  on   
under the open sky4 ,no doubt the       
pressure of human action and emotion  is
 too absorbing to admit of detailed     
description--in most cases of more  than
 passing allusions4 ,yet engrossed      
though he is with stirring events  and  
thrilling emotions and powerful human   
characters1 it is wonderful how  many   
are the side-glances that he and his    
characters cast at the ,nature  that    
surrounds them4 ,and these glances are  
like everything else in him1  rapid1    
vivid1 and intense4 ,as has been said1  
natural scenes 8he so paints  by        
occurrences1 by allusions1 by the       

emotions of his characters1 that we     
seem to see them before our eyes1 and to
 live in them40 ,there is hardly  one of
 his plays in which the season and the  
scene is not flashed upon  the mind by a
 single stroke more vividly than it     
could be by the most  lengthened        
description3--        8,lady6 by yonder 
silver moon ,i swear1      ,that tips   
with silver all the fruit-tree tops40   
,how these few words shed round us all  
the loveliness of the ,italian  night6  
,or that other where the moonshine of   
the warm summer night  brightens the    
last scenes of the 8,merchant of        
,venice10 and calls up1  as only        
moonlight can1 all wild and fascinating 
memories of legend and  romance3--      
8,lorenzo4 ,the moon shines bright3 ,in 
such a night as this1                   
,when the sweet wind did gently kiss the
 trees1                   ,and they did 
make no noise2 in such a night          
,troilus1 methinks1 mounted the ,trojan 
walls1                   ,and sigh'd his

 soul toward the ,grecian tents1        
,where ,cressid lay that night4         
8,jessica4                              
,in such a night                   ,did 
,thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew2     
,and saw the lion's shadow ere himself1 
,and ran dismay'd away4                 
8,lorenzo4                     ,in such 
a night                   ,stood ,dido  
with a willow in her hand               
,upon the wild sea-banks1 and waft her  
love                   ,to come again to
 ,carthage40    ,a recent critic has    
spoken of the ,poet-,laureate's         
8wonderful skill in  creating a         
perfectly real and living scene--such as
 always might1 and  perhaps somewhere   
does1 exist in external nature--for the 
theatre of the  feeling he is about to  
embody1 and yet a scene every feature of
 which  helps to make the emotion more  
real and vivid40 ,careful students of   
,shakespeare know how truly these words 
apply to almost every one of his  plays4
 ,he leaves not only the impression of  

each character deeply graven  on your   
memory2 but the season and the scenery  
which encompassed them1  though perhaps 
not above a line or two are given to    
them1 rise before us  almost as         
indelibly4 ,to take one sample out of   
many4 ,in 8,macbeth10 for  instance1 how
 does the scenery at every turn answer  
to the action and the  emotion6 ,for the
 first appearance of the witches there  
is the blasted  heath1 the thunder and  
lightning2 then1 as the key-note to     
,lady ,macbeth's  fell purpose1 there   
is--              8,the raven himself is
 hoarse      ,that croaks the fatal     
entrance of ,duncan      ,under my      
battlements40    ,but when ,king ,duncan
 himself1 with his retinue1 appears1 the
 whole aspect  of things is changed1 and
 the gracious disposition of the old    
king comes  out very naturally in the   
view he takes of the castle in which he 
was so  soon to meet his doom3--        
8,this castle has a pleasant seat2 the  
air      ,nimbly and sweetly recommends 

itself      ,unto our gentle senses40   
,banquo replies3--                      
8,this guest of summer1      ,the       
temple-haunting martlet1 does approve   
,by his loved mansionry that the        
heaven's breath      ,smells wooingly   
here3 no jutty1 frieze1      ,buttress1 
nor coign of vantage1 but this bird     
,hath made his pendent bed and procreant
 cradle2      ,where they most breed and
 haunt1 ,i have observed1      ,the air 
is delicate40    ,the castle1 with its  
buttresses and battlements1 its high    
gables and  overhanging towers1 lends   
itself as readily to the pleasant humor 
of the  kindly king that calm afternoon1
 as it will do to the horror and the    
gloom of the morrow4 ,then the night in 
which the murder was done is  quite such
 a night as often comes in dead winter1 
yet fits in so well  with the deed and  
the feeling it awakened in men's hearts4
        8,lennox4 ,the night has been   
unruly3 where we lay               ,our 
chimneys were blown down2 and1 as they  

say1               ,lamentings heard i' 
the air2 strange screams of death       
,and other prodigies4        ,macb4     
',twas a rough night4        ,len4   ,my
 young remembrance cannot parallel      
,a fellow to it40    ,this is the talk  
that passes just before the murder is   
known4 ,and after  it is known1 this is 
the kind of day that follows3           
8,by the clock1 'tis day1      ,and yet 
dark night strangles the traveling      
lamp40    ,again1 as twilight brings on1
 the night which is to see ,banquo taken
 out  of the way1 ,macbeth exclaims--   
8,come1 seeling night1      ,skarf up   
the tender eye of pitiful day2          
,and1 with thy bloody and invisible     
hand1      ,cancel1 and tear to pieces1 
that great bond      ,which keeps me    
pale6--,light thickens1 and the crow    
,makes wing to the rooky wood2          
,good things of day begin to droop and  
drowse1      ,while night's black agents
 to their prey do rouse40    ,but why go
 on quoting passages1 which all         

remember1 to show how exactly  all      
through this or the other dramas the    
face of ,nature answers to the  deeds   
and the emotions of the human agents1   
and how a line--sometimes a  word in the
 midst of a rapid dialogue--lets in the 
open air1 and all  the surrounding      
nature1 more tellingly than pages of    
description could  have done4 ,but      
between ,shakespeare and a modern poet  
there is this great  difference1 that1  
while in the latter this correspondence 
is attained  by careful study and       
elaborate forethought1 in ,shakespeare  
we may well  believe that the white heat
 of imagination which created and       
moulded the  characters in all their    
throng of emotion struck off1 at the    
same moment1  almost unconsciously1 the 
aspects of external nature which were   
proper to  them4    ,the forest was     
evidently with ,shakespeare a favorite  
resort1 bringing  back to him1 as it    
would1 recollections of his youthful    
deer-huntings4  ,in his day the forest  

was not far off or strange1 but still a 
familiar  place1 as we are told1 coming 
up very close to the gates of the       
country  town4 ,from ,stratford-on-,avon
 he had not far to go before he found   
himself  in the midst of the forest of  
fine oaks1 the survivors of which are   
still  seen all about in the parks and  
lanes of ,warwickshire4 ,so when he     
would  spend the summer night in the    
most extravagant mirth and drollery1 it 
is  out to the wild wood that he leads  
his company2 when he would surround  the
 grave thoughts of the exiled ,duke and 
the melancholy of ,jaques with a        
congenial background1 he places them in 
the ,forest of ,arden1 where free       
,nature fits into the mood1 and brings  
soothing to their mental maladies4      
8,hath not old custom made this life    
more sweet      ,than that of painted   
pomp8 ,are not these woods      ,more   
free from peril than the envious court80
    ,in how many ways throughout these  
plays are the aspects of human life set 

forth by their resemblances in ,nature6 
8,jul4 ,the current that with gentle    
murmur glides1              ,thou       
know'st1 being stopp'd1 impatiently doth
 rage2              ,but1 when his fair 
course is not hindered1              ,he
 makes sweet music with the enameled    
stones1              ,giving a gentle   
kiss to every sedge              ,he    
overtaketh in his pilgrimage2           
,and so by many winding nooks he strays 
,with willing sport1 to the wild ocean4 
,then let me go1 and hinder not my      
course1              ,i'll be as patient
 as a gentle stream1              ,and  
make my pastime of each weary step1     
,till the last step have brought me to  
my love2              ,and then ,i'll   
rest1 as1 after much turmoil1           
,a blessed soul doth in ,elysium40      
,shakespeare1 whether from watching the 
sea from the shore1 or from  sailing on 
it1 was evidently at home in describing 
it4    ,the sea storm in 8,pericles0    
7,act iii4 ,scene #a7 is full of life   

and  movement1 made all the more        
terrible by the death of the queen on   
shipboard when the tempest is at its    
height4 ,they are off the coast of      
,tharsus1 and the ship is driving in    
upon it unmanageably1 and will not      
answer to the helm3--        8#ast      
,sailor4--,slack the bolins there2 thou 
wilt not1 wilt      thou8 ,blow and     
split thyself4        #b;d              
,sailor4--,but sea room1 an the brine   
and cloudy billow      kiss the moon1 ,i
 care not4        #ast ,sailor4--,sir1  
your queen must overboard2 the sea works
      high1 the wind is loud1 and will  
not lie till the ship be cleared of     
the dead40    ,the human situation and  
the conflict of the elements combine    
each  to heighten to the utmost the     
terror and despair of the other4 ,the   
conjunction is no doubt finely imagined4
 ,but when a modern poet writes3  8,no  
poetry of shipwreck and the sea has ever
 equaled the great scene of             
#8,pericles1' no such note of music was 

ever struck out of the clash and        
contention of tempestuous elements10 one
 cannot but feel that he indulges  in   
exaggeration4    ,for coast scenery the 
description of ,dover cliffs stands     
almost alone4    ,but while with the    
forest and the sea-coast ,shakespeare's 
early life  had made him familiar1 he   
had not1 as far as we know1 had much1 if
 any1  experience of mountains4 ,of     
,nature1 as of man1 he painted for the  
most  part what he had seen and         
known--idealizing it of course1 but     
having  caught the first hint from      
reality4 ,and mountains formed no part  
of the  ,warwickshire or indeed of the  
,england which he knew4 ,therefore while
 we  find many notices of the fields1   
the forest1 and the sea1 and of the way 
they affect human imaginations1 there is
 no allusion to the effect of  mountain 
scenery4 ,it could not have been said of
 him3--        8,the power of hills is  
on thee40    ,on this fact ,mr ,ruskin  
has this characteristic reflection1 that

  ,shakespeare having been ordained to  
take a full view of total human  nature1
 to be perfectly equal and universal in 
his portraiture of man1  could be       
allowed no mountains1 nor even supreme  
natural beauty4 ,for had  he been reared
 among mountains they would have        
overbalanced him1 have  laid too        
powerful a grasp on his imagination1    
have made him lean too much  their way1 
and so would have marred his            
universality4 ,whether we take  this    
view of it or not1 it is certain that   
the power of the mountains  is not      
expressed in that poetry which expresses
 almost every other  conceivable thing1 
and that the mountain rapture had to lie
 dumb for two  more centuries before it 
found utterance in ,english song4    ,in
 8,cymbeline0 the two noble youths are  
brought up in caves among the           
mountains1 but from this their          
characters receive no touch of freedom  
or  grandeur1 but are enhanced only by  
having taken no taint of degradation    

from so base a dwelling-place4 8,the    
only thing belonging to the hills10     
says ,mr4 ,ruskin1 8that ,shakespeare   
seems to feel as noble1 was the         
pine-tree1 and that was because he had  
seen in ,warwickshire clumps of  pine   
occasionally rising on little sandstone 
mounds above the lowland  woods40 ,he   
touches on this tree fondly again and   
again4                                  
8,as rough      ,their royal blood      
enchafed1 as the rud'st wind1      ,that
 by his top doth take the mountain pine1
      ,and make him stoop to the vale40 
,again3--        8,you may as well      
forbid the mountain pines      ,to wave 
their high tops1 and to make no noise   
,when they are fretted with the gusts of
 heaven40    ,and again3--        8,but 
when from under this terrestrial bank   
,he fires the proud tops of the eastern 
pines40    ,he knew little then of the  
mountains by experience2 but had he     
known them  more1 though they might have
 added some sternness to his genius1    

some awe  to his thoughts about life1   
they might perhaps have narrowed his    
range  and made his view of men less    
universal and serene4 ,so ,mr4 ,ruskin  
thinks4  ,and yet perhaps it is hardly  
safe so to speculate about ,shakespeare4
 ,for  could not the mind which took in 
and harmonized so many things1 have made
  room for this other influence1 without
 deranging its proportions and  marring 
its universality8    ,though            
,shakespeare sometimes describes1 in a  
general way1 countries  he had never    
seen1 as in that exquisite description  
of ,sicily in the  8,winter's ,tale10-- 
8,the climate's delicate1 the air most  
sweet1      ,fertile the isle1 the      
temple much surpassing      ,the common 
praise it bears0--    yet whenever he   
descends to details of country life and 
scenery1 as he  so often does1 every    
word bears the stamp of having been     
brought1 not  from books1 but from what 
his own eyes had seen in the            
neighborhood of  ,stratford-upon-,avon4 

,how familiar he was with the garden and
 all its  processes is seen by many a   
metaphor and allusion1 perhaps nowhere  
more  notably than in the #dth ,scene of
 the #c;d ,act of 8,richard ,,ii410     
where in  the ,duke of ,york's garden at
 ,langley the discourse of the gardener 
and  his men on the management of       
fruit-trees is turned to political      
meaning4  ,a disordered state is a      
neglected and unweeded garden1 the      
pruning and  bleeding of fruit-trees are
 the restraining great and growing men  
in the  state1 and all the operations   
are so described and applied as only an 
adept in gardening could do2 or again1  
there is the well-known metaphor  in    
,wolsey's speech where he likens his    
blushing honors to blossoms nipt  by    
frost4 ,the process of grafting         
furnishes many a metaphor for human     
doings4 ,all the ordinary forest trees1 
the oak1 the elm1 the pine1 the  willow1
 come in with the easy handling of one  
who knew them from boyhood4  ,every     

bird1 the rook1 the chough1 the         
throstle1 the ousel-cock or  blackbird1 
the nightingale1        8,the finch1 the
 sparrow1 and the lark1      ,the       
plain-song cuckoo gray0--    all find   
familiar notice2 and perhaps of these we
 might select the lark  as his favorite1
 to judge by the frequency of allusion  
to it4    ,though garden flowers--such  
garden flowers as were cultivated in his
  time--are not passed over1 yet much   
more noteworthy is the loving way in    
which ,shakespeare dwells1 or rather    
makes his characters dwell1 on the      
field-flowers4 ,almost every wild-flower
 that is to be found at this day  in the
 meadows and woods by ,avon side looks  
out from some part of other  of his     
poetry4 ,but this love for flowers1 it  
has been noted1 he puts in  the mouth1  
not of his strong heroic characters1 his
 ,henry ,v4 or ,othello1  but in the    
lips of his more feminine ones4 ,it is  
the sentimental ,duke in  8,twelfth     
,night0 who exclaims--        8,that    

strain again2 it had a dying fall4      
,oh6 it came o'er my ear like the sweet 
south1      ,that breathes upon a bank  
of violets1      ,stealing1 and giving  
odor0--    just such a bank as may be   
seen any ,april day under the           
,warwickshire  hedge-rows4 ,every one   
remembers poor ,ophelia and her flowers1
 the flowers  with which ,arviragus     
promises to sweeten the sad grave of    
,fidele2 and1  above all1 the wonderful 
scene in the 8,winter's ,tale0 where    
,perdita  presiding at the              
sheep-shearing feast sorts the flowers  
according to the  age of the guests1    
8flowers of winter1 rosemary and rue10  
to the elders1  to men of middle age    
flowers of middle summer--        8,hot 
lavender1 mints1 savory1 marjoram1      
,the marigold1 that goes to bed with the
 sun1      ,and with him rises weeping40
    ,and for her fairest friend--       
8,i would ,i had some flowers o' the    
spring that might      ,become your time
 of day2      ,daffodils1 violets1 and  

pale primroses40    ,lastly1 the song   
which winds up 8,love's ,labor          
,lost10--with what lyric  sweetness it  
condenses how much of flowery spring and
 of nipping winter  into a few easy     
lines6 ,in this as in all other mentions
 of wild-flowers  in ,shakespeare1 it   
has been remarked how true he is to time
 and season1  giving to each flower its 
proper season and haunt1 and sorting    
them  all with the careless ease of one 
to whom they were among the most        
familiar things4 ,in this he contrasts  
with the artistic but not accurate      
assortment of flowers in the well-known 
passage of 8,lycidas10 where  ,milton   
groups in one posy flowers belonging to 
different seasons4    ,on the whole1    
though ,shakespeare never set himself   
formally to study or  describe external 
,nature1 yet his dramas are full of her 
presence and her  works--not taken from 
books or daintily tricked out by art1   
but idealized  from his memory well     
stored with country scenes4 ,again1     

these are given1  not in elaborate      
descriptions1 but in rapid strokes1 and 
side-glances1  vivid1 penetrating1      
intense1 thrown off from the heat of an 
imagination  brooding mainly over human 
interests and emotions4 ,and perhaps    
after all  that view of ,nature is the  
truest1 healthiest1 manliest1 which does
 not  pore or moralize over her         
appearances1 but keeps them in the      
background1  putting man into the       
foreground and making him the central   
object4 ,as ,man  and ,nature stand over
 against each other1 and are evidently  
made each  for each1 it may be that not 
apart from ,man1 with his emotions and  
his  destiny1 can ,nature be rightly    
conceived and portrayed4      ,,milton4 
,when we pass from the images of ,nature
 that abound in ,chaucer and in         
,shakespeare to those which ,milton     
furnishes1 the transition is much the   
same as when we pass from the scenery of
 ,homer to that of ,virgil4 ,the        
contrast is that between natural        

free-flowing poetry1 in which the beauty
  is child-like and unconscious1 and    
highly cultured artistic poetry1 which  
produces its effects through a medium of
 learned illustration1 ornate  coloring1
 and stately diction4 ,in the one case  
,nature is seen directly  and at first  
hand1 with nothing between the poet and 
the object except  the imaginative      
emotion under which he works4 ,in the   
other1 ,nature  is apprehended only in  
her 8second intention10 as logicians    
speak1  only as she appears through a   
beautiful haze1 compounded of learning1 
associations of the past1 and carefully 
selected artistic colors4 ,with         
,milton1 ,nature was not his first love1
 but held only a secondary place in  his
 affections4 ,he was in the first place 
a scholar1 a man of letters1  with the  
theologian and polemic latent in him4 ,a
 lover of all artistic  beauty he was1  
no doubt1 and of ,nature mainly as it   
lends itself to  this perception4 ,and  
as is his mode of apprehending ,nature1 

such is the  language in which he       
describes her4 ,when he reached his full
 maturity  he had framed for himself out
 of the richness of his genius and the  
resources of his learning a style       
elaborate and splendid1 so that he      
stands unique among ,english poets1 8our
 one first-rate master in the  grand    
style40 ,as an eminent living ,french   
writer says1--8,for rendering  things he
 has the unique word1 the word which is 
a discovery10 and  8he has not only the 
image and the word1 he has the period   
also1 the  large musical phrase1        
somewhat laden with ornaments and       
intricate with  inversions1 but bearing 
all along with it in its superb         
undulation4 ,above  all1 he has         
something indescribably serene and      
victorious1 an unfailing  level of      
style1 power indomitable40 ,this        
admirable description of ,m4  ,scherer  
applies mainly to ,milton's style1 as it
 was fully elaborated  in his great     
epic4 ,and the thought has sometimes    

occurred1 whether  this magnificently   
elaborated style can be a fit vehicle   
for rendering  truly the simplicity1 the
 refreshingness of ,nature1--whether the
 poet's  art1 from its very opulence1   
must not color too much the clearness   
and  transparency of the external world4
 ,however this may be1 it is certain    
that it is not to his maturer poems1    
with their grandeur of style1 that  we  
look for his most vivid renderings of   
scenery1 but to those early  poems1     
which had more native grace of diction  
and less of artistic  elaboration4      
,nowhere has ,milton shown such an eye  
for scenery as in  those first poems1   
8,l',allegro10 8,il ,penseroso10        
8,lycidas10 and 8,comus10  composed     
before he was thirty1 just after leaving
 ,cambridge1 while he  was living under 
his father's roof at ,horton1 in        
,buckinghamshire4  ,during the five     
years of country life1 the most genial  
of all his  years1 amid his incessant   
study of the ,greek and ,latin poets1   

and other  self-improvement1 his heart  
was perhaps more open than at any other 
time  to the rural beauty which lay     
around him4 8,comus0 and 8,lycidas0 both
  contain fine natural imagery1 yet     
somewhat deflected by the artistic      
framework in which it is set4 ,in the   
latter poem1 in which ,milton1  adapting
 the idyllic form of ,virgil1 fills it  
with a mightier power1  classical       
allusion and mythology are strangely1   
yet not unharmoniously1  blended with   
pictures taken from ,english landscape4 
,every one remembers  the splendid      
grouping of flowers which he there      
broiders in4 ,of this  catalogue it has 
been observed that1 beautiful as it is1 
it violates the  truth of nature1 as it 
places side by side flowers of different
 seasons  which are never seen flowering
 together4 ,it is in his two            
8descriptive  ,lyrics0 that we find the 
clearest proofs of an eye that had      
observed  ,nature at first hand and for 
itself4 ,in the poem descriptive of     

mirth1  it has been observed that the   
mirth is of a very sedate kind1 not     
reaching beyond a 8trim and stately     
cheerfulness40 ,the mythological        
pedigrees attached both to mirth and to 
melancholy strike us now as  somewhat   
strange1 if not frigid2 but1 with this  
allowance1 ,milton's  richly sensuous   
imagination bodies forth the            
cheerfulness1 as he wished  to portray  
it1 in a succession of images           
unsurpassed for beauty4 ,in the  lines  
descriptive of these images1 ,art and   
,nature appear perhaps more  than in any
 other of ,milton's poems in perfect    
equipoise4 ,the images  selected are the
 aptest vehicles of the sentiment2 the  
language in which  they are expressed is
 of the most graceful and musical2 while
 the natural  objects themselves are    
seen at first hand1 set down with their 
edges  still sharp1 and uncolored by any
 tinge of bookish allusion4 ,aspects of 
,english scenery1 one after another1    
occur1 which he was the first poet to   

note1 and which none since could dare to
 touch1 so entirely has he made  them   
his own4 ,the mower whetting his        
scythe1--who ever hears that sound      
coming from the lawn in the morning     
without thinking of ,milton8 8,the      
tanned haycock in the mead20 the cottage
 chimney smoking betwixt two aged  oaks2
 the moon                  8,as if her  
head she bowed1      ,stooping through a
 fleecy cloud20    the shower pattering 
8,on the ruffling leaves1      ,with    
minute drops from off the eaves20    the
 great curfew-bell heard swinging 8over 
some wide watered  shore20--these are   
all images taken straight from ,english 
landscape which  ,milton has forever    
enshrined in his two matchless poems4   
,of these two poems1 describing the     
bright and the thoughtful aspects of    
,nature1 my friend ,mr4 ,palgrave1 in   
his exquisite collection of ,english    
,lyrics1 8,the ,golden ,treasury10 has  
observed that these are the earliest    
pure descriptive lyrics in our language1

 adding that it is a striking  proof of 
,milton's astonishing power that these  
are still the best1 in a  style which so
 many great poets have since his time   
attempted4    ,when1 after a poetic     
silence of nearly thirty years1 ,milton1
 old1 blind1  and fallen1 as he thought1
 on evil days1 addressed himself again  
to  poetry1 in his two ,epics1 and in   
his ,classic ,drama1 he gave vent to all
  that was lofty and sublime in his     
severe nature1 but he returned no more  
to rural description4 ,immense          
scholarship1 experience of men and of   
affairs1 ripe meditation on things human
 and divine1--all these he brought  to  
his later work2 but the simple love of  
,nature1 such as it was in his  earlier 
poems1 has disappeared1 or is overlaid  
by his learning4#ae ,the  description of
 the garden of ,eden1 in the fourth book
 of 8,paradise ,lost10  is magnificent1 
but vague4 ,the pomp of language and    
profusion of images  leaves on the      
imagination no definite picture4 ,you   

have1 it is true1  8in narrow room      
,nature's whole wealth10 but it does not
 satisfy1 as  many a humbler but real   
scene described with a few strokes      
satisfies4  ,such landscapes in poetry1 
entirely projected by the imagination   
and  answering to no scene on earth1    
are1 like the composition pictures1     
which some painters delight in1 only    
splendid failures4    ,there is1        
however1 another use made of ,nature in 
those later poems1 which  may be called 
the geographical use of it1 in which    
,milton has no rival4  ,his vast reading
 enabled him to bring together similes  
and illustrations  from every land--from
 ,china1 ,india1 ,tartary1 ,cape of     
,good ,hope2 nor from  these only1 but  
from old ,rome1 ,greece1 ,syria1        
,babylon4 ,such images from  many lands1
 so rich1 varied1 and grandly worded1   
form one of the most  permanent         
attractions of 8,paradise ,lost0 and    
8,paradise ,regained40 ,the  one real   
inspired creation of scenery1 if scenery

 it can be called1  which 8,paradise    
,lost0 contains1 is the description of  
,hell4 ,the primeval  elements of the   
world are drawn upon1 the unmeasurable  
abyss of fire1  the frozen cataract1    
every thing vast that is to be found on 
earth is  here4 ,from things of earth   
too are drawn the images that set forth 
the  appearance of the inhabitants--the 
fallen angels like scathed oaks or      
pines on a blasted heath--,satan himself
 like leviathan 8slumbering on the      
,norway foam10 and many another image   
from ,nature taken to shadow forth      
things supernatural or infernal4    ,but
 if we wish to find in ,milton the pure 
breath of the country1 the  fragrance of
 the fields1 it is to his early poems we
 must return4 ,in  these1 scholar and   
man of letters though he was1 learning  
and art had  not excluded ,nature1 but  
with his eye still resting on actual    
sights of  the country1 he describes    
them with a native lightness and grace  
which  his classic style only makes more

 expressive4 ,during the life of        
,milton1  other though lesser poets had 
given expression to the love of ,nature4
  ,such were ,william ,browne1 author of
 8,britannia's ,pastorals10 and ,andrew 
,marvell1 whose 8,poems in the ,country0
 contain here and there graceful        
expression of rural things4    ,but     
after ,milton died 7#afgd71 rural life  
and ,nature1 for more than half a       
century1 disappeared from ,english      
poetry4          ,,chapter ,,xii4       
,,return ,,to ,,nature ,,begun ,,by     
,,allan ,,ramsay ,,and ,,thomson4       
,the divorce from ,nature and country   
life which marked the ,poetry of the    
closing seventeenth and opening         
eighteenth centuries1 has often been    
subject of comment1 and need not detain 
us now4 ,whatever the causes of  this   
divorce may have been1 it is beside our 
present purpose to inquire  into them4  
,enough to note the fact that during the
 latter part of ,charles  ,,ii4's reign1
 and during the succeeding reigns of    

,william1 ,queen ,anne1 and  the first  
,george1 poetry retired from the fields1
 and confined herself  to the streets of
 ,london4 ,if she ever ventured into the
 country at all1  she did not wander    
beyond the ,twickenham villa or         
,richmond ,hill4 ,while  first ,dryden  
and then ,pope were in the ascendant1   
the subjects of poetry  were those to be
 found in city life and in social man4  
,nature1 ,passion1  ,imagination1 as has
 been said1 were dismissed2 politics1   
party spirit and  argument1 wit and     
satire1 criticism and scientific        
inquiry1 took their  place4    ,when    
after this long absence ,poetry once    
more left the suburbs and  wandered back
 to the fields1 she took with her this  
great gain1--the  power to describe the 
things of nature in a correcter diction 
and more  beautiful style than ,england 
had before known1 save only in ,milton's
  descriptive lyrics4 ,it was in the    
,scottish poet ,allan ,ramsay that the  
sense of natural beauty first           

reappeared4 ,since his day ,nature1     
which1  even when felt and described in 
earlier ,english poetry1 had held a     
place  altogether subordinate to man1   
has more and more claimed to be regarded
  in poetry as almost coequal with man4 
,ramsay1 whose 8,gentle ,shepherd0 was  
first published in #agbe1 drew his      
inspiration in large measure from the   
songs and ballads of his native country1
 which1 while full of the pathos  of    
human incident and affection1 are hardly
 less sensitive to the looks  of earth  
and sky1 whether stern or lovely4 ,it   
was from his knowledge  of rustic life  
and his love of the popular song that   
his inspiration  was drawn4 ,but his    
genuine and natural instincts were      
overlaid by some  knowledge and relish  
of the artificial literature of his age4
 ,the result  is a kind of composite    
poetry1 in which ,scotch manners1       
feeling1 and  language are strangely    
intermingled with a sort of ,arcadian   
veneer1  brought from the ,eclogues of  

,virgil1 or from ,english imitations of 
these4  ,this is most seen in ,ramsay's 
songs1 where1 instead of preserving the 
precious old melodies1 he has replaced  
them by insipid counterfeits  of his    
own1 in which ,jock and ,jenny are      
displaced by ,damon and ,chloe4  ,though
 some traces of false taste do crop out 
here and there1 even in  the dialogue of
 the 8,the ,gentle ,shepherd10 yet these
 are far fewer than  in the songs4 ,the 
feelings of our age may be now and then 
offended by a  freedom of speech that   
borders on coarseness1 but that the     
texture of the  poem is stirring and    
human-hearted is proved by the hold it  
still retains  on the ,scottish         
peasantry4 ,if here and there a false   
note mars the truth  of the human       
manners1 as when ,scotch ,lowland       
shepherds talk of playing on  reeds and 
flutes1 the scenery of 8,the ,gentle    
,shepherd0 is true to ,nature  as it is 
among the ,pentland ,hills3--           
8,gae farder up the burn to ,habbie's   

,how1      ,where a' the sweets o'      
spring and summer grow3      ,between   
twa birks1 out o'er a little linn       
,the water fa's an' mak's a singin' din2
      ,a pool breast-deep1 beneath as   
clear as glass1      ,kisses1 wi' easy  
whirls1 the bordering grass4      ,we'll
 end our washing while the morning's    
cool4      ,and when the day grows het  
we'll to the pool1      ,there wash     
oursels--it's healthfu' now in ,may1    
,and sweetly cauler on so warm a day40  
,a pool in a burn among the ,lowland    
hills could hardly be more naturally    
described4    ,again1 one of the        
shepherds thus invites his love--       
8,to where the saugh-tree shades the    
mennin-pool1      ,i'll frae the hill   
come doun1 when day grows cool4         
--,keep tryst1 and meet me there40      
,the alder-tree shading the minnow      
pool--there is a real piece of ,lowland 
scenery brought from the outer world for
 the first time into poetry4  ,these are
 but a few samples of the scenery of    

,scottish rural life with  which 8,the  
,gentle ,shepherd0 abounds4 ,burns1 who 
lived in the generation  that followed  
,ramsay1 and always looks back to him as
 one of his chief  forerunners and      
masters in the poetic art1 fixes on     
,ramsay's delineations  of ,nature as   
one of his chief characteristics4 ,burns
 asks1 ,is there none  of the moderns   
who will rival the ,greeks in pastoral  
poetry8--        8,yes6 there is ane2 a 
,scottish callan--      ,there's ane2   
come forrit1 honest ,allan6      ,thou  
need na jouk behint the hallan1         
,a chiel sae clever2      ,the teeth o' 
,time may gnaw ,tantallan1              
,but thou's forever6        8,thou      
paints auld ,nature to the nines1       
,in thy sweet ,caledonian lines2        
,nae gowden stream thro' myrtles twines1
                    ,where ,philomel1   
,while nightly breezes sweep the vines1 
,her griefs will tell6        8,in      
gowany glens thy burnie strays1         
,where bonnie lasses bleach their claes2

      ,or trots by hazelly shaws and    
braes                    ,wi' hawthorns 
gray1      ,where blackbirds join the   
shepherd's lays                    ,at  
close o' day40    ,it may well be that  
when we turn to ,scottish poetry the    
burns and braes  should sing and shine  
through almost every song4 ,for there is
 no feature  in which ,scottish scenery 
more differs from ,english than in the  
clear and  living northern burns1       
compared with the dead drumlie ditches  
called  brooks in the ,midland          
,counties4      ,,thomson4    ,the      
return to ,nature1 begun by ,ramsay in  
his 8,gentle ,shepherd10 was  carried on
 by another ,scot1 though hardly a      
,scottish poet--,thomson1 who a  few    
years later 7#agbh-cj7 published his    
poem of 8,the ,seasons40 ,in this  work1
 descriptive of scenery and country life
 through the four seasons1  ,thomson1 it
 is alleged1 was but working in a vein  
which was native to  ,scottish poets    
from the earliest time4 ,two centuries  

before1 ,gawain  ,douglas1 in the       
prologues to his translation of the     
neid1 abounds in  description of rural  
things4 ,i should hardly venture to say 
it myself1 in  case it might seem       
national prejudice1 but a writer who is 
not a ,scot1  ,mr4 ,s4 ,brooke1 has     
remarked that there is 8a passionate1   
close1 poetical  observation and        
description of natural scenery in       
,scotland1 from the  earliest times1    
such as we do not possess in ,english   
poetry till the time  of ,wordsworth40  
,in choosing his subject1 therefore1 and
 in the minute  loving way in which he  
dwells upon it1 ,thomson would seem to  
have been  working in the spirit of his 
country4 ,but there the ,scottish       
element in  him begins and ends4        
,neither in the kind of landscape he    
pictures1 in  the rural customs he      
selects1 nor in the language or         
versification of  his poem1 is there    
much savor of ,scottish habits or       
scenery4 ,his blank  verse cannot be    

said to be a garment that fits well to  
its subject4  ,it is heavy1 cumbrous1   
oratorical1 over-loaded with epithets1  
full  of artificial invocations1        
8personified abstractions10 and insipid 
classicalities4 ,it is a composite style
 of language formed from the            
recollection partly of ,milton1 partly  
of ,virgil's ,georgics4    ,yet in spite
 of all these obstructions which repel  
pure taste and natural  feeling1 no one 
can read the four books of the          
8,seasons0 through1 without  seeing that
 ,thomson1 for all his false style1     
wrote with his eye upon  ,nature1 and   
laid his finger on many a fact and image
 never before touched  in poetry4 ,in   
the first few lines of 8,spring0 he     
notes how1 at its  approach1 the plover 
and other birds which have wintered by  
the sea leave  the shores and set far   
inland to their summer haunts in moors  
and hills4  ,whilst the season is still 
hanging uncertain between winter and    
spring1  he notes how                   

8,scarce      ,the bittern knows his    
time1 with bill ingulfed      ,to shake 
the sounding marsh2 or1 from the shore1 
,the plovers when to scatter o'er the   
heath1      ,and sing their wild notes  
to the listening waste40    ,how true to
 nature this picture6 how happily       
rendered6 ,then you have the  plowman   
and his oxen beginning their work--     
8,cheered by the simple song and soaring
 lark40    ,again1--        8,from the  
moist meadow to the withered hill1      
,led by the breeze1 the vivid verdure   
runs40    ,that 8withered hill60 ,who   
that has ever looked on the mountains in
  ,march1 just before the first finger  
of ,spring has touched them1 but will   
recognize the appropriateness of that   
epithet for their wan1 bleached1        
decayed aspect6    ,then you have the   
whole process of trout-fishing1 in the  
8mossy-tinctured  stream10 where 8the   
dark brown water aids the grilse10      
showing that1 as  ,thomson wrote1 his   
thoughts reverted from ,richmond to the 

streams of the  ,merse2 you have also   
the song-birds piping each from its     
proper haunt1  the linnet from 8the     
flowering furze10--the various places   
where each bird  builds his nest1 given 
with an accuracy that every bird-nesting
 boy will  recognize2 and the scent of  
the bean-fields1 noticed for the first  
time1  as far as ,i know1 in poetry4    
,as one longer example of ,thomson's    
close observation and peculiar manner1  
take the description of a spring        
shower3--                               
8,at last      ,the clouds consign their
 treasures to the fields1      ,and1    
softly shaking on the dimpled pool      
,prelusive drops1 let all their moisture
 flow      ,in large effusion o'er the  
freshened world2      ,the stealing     
shower is scarce to patter heard        
,by such as wander through the forest   
walks1      ,beneath the umbrageous     
multitude of leaves4        444         
8,thus all day long the full-distended  
clouds      ,indulge their genial       

stores1 and well-showered earth      ,is
 deep enriched with vegetable life2     
,till in the western sky the downward   
sun      ,looks out1 effulgent1 from    
amid the flush      ,of broken clouds1  
gay shifting to his beam1      ,the     
rapid radiance instantaneous strikes    
,the illumined mountain2 through the    
forest streams2      ,shakes on the     
floods1 and in a yellow mist1      ,far 
smoking o'er the interminable plain1    
,in twinkling myriads lights the dewy   
gems4      ,moist1 bright1 and green1   
the landscape laughs around4      ,full 
swell the woods1 their every music      
wakes1      ,mixed in wild concert1 with
 the warbling brooks      ,increased1   
the distant bleatings of the hills1     
,and hollow lows responsive from the    
vales1      ,whence1 blending all1 the  
sweetened zephyr springs40    ,these are
 but a few samples from 8,spring0       
showing the minute faithfulness  with   
which ,thomson had observed        8,the
 negligence of ,nature1 wide and wild40 

,here are appearances of ,nature1 each  
accurately observed1 and their          
succession truthfully rendered1 but the 
whole is so overlaid with tawdry        
diction that it is hard to pierce below 
the enamel and feel the true  pulse of  
,nature beating under it4 ,and yet it   
does beat there1 and in many  another   
description in the 8,seasons0 now little
 heeded1 because of their  old-fashioned
 garb4 ,and yet he who will read the    
8,seasons0 through will  find many a    
phrase true to ,nature1 many a          
felicitous expression cropping  out from
 the even roll of his solemn pompous    
monotone4 ,thomson has been  called the 
,claude of poets4 ,and his way of       
handling ,nature stands to  that of     
,wordsworth or ,tennyson much as        
,claude's landscapes do to those  of    
,turner or some of the other modern     
painters4 ,it may be added that         
,thomson's somewhat vapid digressions   
about ,amelia and ,lavinia have not     
more meaning than the conventional lay  

figures and the classic temples  which  
,claude introduces into the foreground  
of his landscapes4    ,as to the        
sentiment which animates the 8,seasons10
 it is a revolt from  the life of town  
and court to the simplicity and truth of
 rural life and  feeling4 ,it is almost 
the first time this revolt finds        
expression in  ,english poetry1 if we   
except some of the sylvan scenes in     
,shakespeare4  ,as the ,french critic   
well says1 8,thirty years before        
,rousseau1 ,thomson  had expressed all  
,rousseau's sentiments1 almost in the   
same style4 ,like  him1 he painted the  
country with sympathy and enthusiasm4   
,like him he  contrasted the golden age 
of primitive simplicity with modern     
miseries  and corruption4 ,like him he  
exalted deep love1 conjugal tenderness1 
the  union of souls1 paternal affection1
 and all domestic joys4 ,like him1 he   
combated contemporary frivolity and     
compared the ancient republics with     
modern states4 ,like ,rousseau1 he      

praised gravity1 patriotism1 liberty1   
virtue2 rose from the spectacle of      
,nature to the contemplation of ,god4444
  ,like him1 too1 he marred the         
sincerity of his emotion and the truth  
of  his poetry by sentimental           
vapidities1 by pastoral billing and     
cooing1  and by an abundance of         
epithets1 personified abstractions1     
pompous  invocations1 and oratorical    
tirades40 ,this passage gives truly1 if 
with  some exaggeration1 the spirit with
 which the 8,seasons0 and all their     
outward imagery are informed4 ,but while
 ,thomson watched the ever-changing     
appearances and recorded them1 what1 it 
may be asked1 was his thought  about the
 ,power which originates and upholds    
them8 what did he conceive  to be the   
relation of the things we see to the    
things we do not see8  ,everywhere his  
poem breathes a spirit of naturalistic  
piety4 ,but if there  is nothing in the 
8,seasons0 inconsistent with ,christian 
truth1 there is  little or nothing that 

directly affirms it4 ,in 8,winter0 he   
breathes this  prayer--        8,father 
of light and life6 thou ,good ,supreme6 
,oh teach me what is good6 teach me     
thyself6      ,save me from folly1      
vanity1 and vice1      ,from every low  
pursuit6 and feed my soul      ,with    
knowledge1 conscious peace1 and virtue  
pure1      ,sacred1 substantial1        
never-fading bliss60    ,there is       
nothing in his amiable and placid life  
to throw doubt on the  sincerity of that
 prayer4 ,and yet ,thomson's piety seems
 to us now of that  kind which is easily
 satisfied and thoughtlessly thankful6  
,there are many at the present day1 and 
those the most thoughtful1 who  8not    
only see through but 7as has been said7 
feel a strong revulsion  against the    
well-meant but superficial attempt to   
describe the world as  happy1 and to see
 in ,god1 as the ,governor of it1 only a
 sort of easy and  shallow goodness40   
,they cannot be satisfied with such a   
view4 8,they have  a complaining        

within--a sense of imperfection in and  
around them which  rebels against so    
easy-going a view and demands another   
solution4 ,it is  not merely a          
benevolent ,god that they long for1 but 
a ,god who sympathizes  with man1 and   
who in some way1 of which only          
revelation can fully inform  us1 makes  
out of man's misery and imperfection the
 way to something  better for him40     
,thomson's religion1 no doubt1 could    
hardly have escaped the infection  of   
the ,deism that was all around him in   
the literary and philosophic  atmosphere
 of his time4 ,in his beautiful 8,hymn10
 which may be regarded  as the climax of
 the 8,seasons10 and as summing up the  
devoutest thoughts  which these         
suggested to him1 there is nothing that 
goes beyond such a  view3--             
8,these1 as they change1 ,almighty      
,father1 these      ,are but the varied 
,god4 ,the rolling year      ,is full of
 thee0--    unless perhaps in that more 
,christian strain where1 hearing the    

bleating  on the hills and the lowings  
in the vale1 he breaks forth--          
8,for the ,great ,shepherd reigns1      
,and his unsuffering ,kingdom yet will  
come40    ,the prevailing spirit of the 
,hymn1 as of most of his other addresses
 to  the ,deity1 is that of optimism and
 the reign of universal benevolence3--  
8,i cannot go      ,where ,universal    
,love smiles not around1                
,sustaining all yon orbs1 and all their 
suns1      ,from seeming evil still     
educing good40    ,there is much        
benevolence in his poetry1 much feeling 
for the miseries  and wrongs of mankind1
 but no perception of that deeper       
mystery--that  the whole creation       
groaneth and travaileth in pain1 waiting
 for a  deliverance4 ,neither is there  
any sense of the relation of the        
creation  to the ,creator other than    
that which the somewhat mechanical      
conception  of a maker and a machine    
supply4 ,perhaps it is not to be        
wondered at that  ,thomson does not seem

 to feel the inadequacy of this         
conception1 for we  in our own day1 who 
have got to feel so profoundly its      
inadequacy1 have  not as yet gone far to
 supply its place with a worthier4 ,yet 
whatever  may be his shortcomings1 all  
honor to the poet of the 8,seasons06    
,genuine  lover of the country as he    
was1 he was the first ,english poet who 
led  poetry back into the fields1 and   
made her once more free of her own      
native region4          ,,chapter       
,,xiii4    ,,nature ,,in ,,collins1     
,,gray1 ,,goldsmith1 ,,and ,,burns4     
,,collins4    ,when ,thomson was laid in
 ,richmond ,church1 another poet chanted
 over him a  dirge breathing the very   
pathos of ,nature herself3--        8,in
 yonder grave a ,druid lies1            
,where slowly winds the stealing wave1  
,the year's best sweets shall duteous   
rise        ,to deck its poet's sylvan  
grave4        8,remembrance oft shall   
haunt the shore1        ,when ,thames in
 summer wreaths is drest1      ,and oft 

suspend the dashing oar        ,to bid  
his gentle spirit rest40    ,about that 
ode of the gentle and pensive ,collins  
7born #agba1 died #agei7  there is a    
sweet pathetic tone which the grander   
strains of later ,english  poetry have  
never surpassed4 ,in the 8,dirge over   
,fidele0 the same strain  of pensive    
beauty is renewed4 ,collins was the     
first poet since ,milton  wrote his     
early lyrics who brought to the         
description of rural things  that       
perfection of style1 that combined      
simplicity and beauty1 which  ,milton   
had learned from the classic poets      
,there is another poem of  ,collins's   
which1 if not so perfect in expression  
as the two just named1  is interesting  
as almost the earliest inroad by an     
,english poet into the  wild and        
romantic world which the ,highlands of  
,scotland contain1 unless  we except    
,shakespeare's 8,macbeth40 ,this is     
,collins's ode on the 8,popular         
,superstitions of the ,highlands of     

,scotland40 ,it seems that in the autumn
  of #agdi1 ,home1 the author of the    
tragedy of 8,douglas10 had1 when on a   
visit to ,london1 during his brief stay 
made the acquaintance of ,collins1  and 
kindled his imagination with tales of   
the ,highlands and the ,hebrides4       
,collins seems to have deepened this    
interest by the perusal of ,martin's    
curious book on the ,western ,isles1 and
 on ,home's return to ,scotland         
,collins addressed to him the ode1 in   
which the ,english poet entered with  a 
deeper1 more imaginative insight into   
the weird and wild superstitions  of the
 ,gael than any ,scottish poet had as   
yet shown4 ,after describing  with great
 force and truthfulness the second      
sight1 the wraith1 the  water-kelpie1   
and many such-like things1 he closes    
with this apostrophe3--        8,all    
hail6 ye scenes that o'er my soul       
prevail6      ,ye splendid friths and   
lakes1 which1 far away1      ,are by    
smooth ,annan filled1 or pastoral ,tay1 

,or ,don's romantic springs1 at distance
 hail6      ,the time shall come1 when  
,i1 perhaps1 may tread      ,your lowly 
glens1 o'erhung with spreading broom2   
,or1 o'er your stretching heaths1 by    
fancy led2      ,or1 o'er your mountains
 creep1 in awful gloom40    ,poor       
,collins3 this hope was never fulfilled4
 ,a deeper gloom than any  that rests on
 the ,highland mountains too soon       
gathered over him4 ,the ode  itself does
 not seem to have received the notice it
 deserves1 both for  its own excellence 
and as the first symptom of a new and   
enlarged feeling  about ,nature entering
 into ,english poetry4 ,in the above    
extract the word  8glen0 occurs4 ,is    
there any earlier instance of its use in
 ,english poetry  or prose8 ,the        
,scottish poets1 except the             
ballad-writers1 were afraid to  use it  
till the time of ,scott4 ,macpherson in 
his translations of ,ossian1  twelve    
years later than this ode1 uniformly    
renders the ,gaelic 8gleann0  by the    

insipid 8vale40    ,but the most perfect
 and original poem of ,collins1 as well 
as the most  finely appreciative of     
,nature1 is his ,ode to ,evening4 ,no   
doubt evening is  personified in his    
address as 8maid composed10 and 8calm   
votaress10 but  the personification is  
so delicately handled1 and in so subdued
 a tone1  that it does not jar on the   
feelings1 as such personifications too  
often  do3--        8,if aught of oaten 
stop1 or pastoral song1      ,may hope1 
chaste ,eve1 to soothe thy modest ear1  
,like thy own solemn springs1           
,thy springs and dying gales1        8,o
 nymph reserved1 while now the          
bright-haired sun      ,sits in yon     
western tent1 whose cloudy skirts1      
,with brede ethereal wove1              
,o'erhang his wavy bed3        8,now air
 is hushed1 save where the weak-eyed bat
      ,with short1 shrill shriek1 flits 
by on leathern wing2              ,or   
where the beetle winds              ,his
 small but sullen horn1        8,as oft 

he rises 'midst the twilight path1      
,against the pilgrim borne in needless  
hum              ,now teach me1 maid    
composed1              ,to breathe some 
softened strain4        444             
8,then lead1 calm votaress1 where some  
sheety lake      ,cheers the lone heath1
 or some time-hallowed pile1            
,or upland fallows gray                 
,reflect its last cool gleam4           
8,but when chill1 blustering winds1 or  
driving rain1      ,forbid my willing   
feet1 be mine the hut1                  
,that from the mountain's side1         
,views wilds1 and swelling floods1      
8,and hamlets brown1 and dim-discovered 
spires1      ,and hears the simple bell1
 and marks o'er all1              ,thy  
dewy finger draw              ,the      
gradual dusky veil40    ,there is about 
the whole ode a subdued twilight tone1 a
 remoteness  from men and human things1 
and a pensive evening musing1 all the   
more  expressive1 because it does not   
shape itself into definite thoughts1    

but reposes in appropriate images4 ,and1
 as the ,aldine biographer              
observes1--8,the absence of rhyme leaves
 the even flow of the verse  unbroken1  
and the change at the end of each stanza
 into shorter lines1 as  if the voice of
 the reader dropped into a lower key1   
contributes to the  effect40    ,in     
,thomson there was probably an          
observation of the facts of ,nature     
wider and more varied1 but in ,collins  
there is an intermingling of human      
feeling with ,nature's aspects which is 
at once more delicate and deep4    ,the 
increased sensibility to ,nature which  
in ,english poetry appeared in          
,thomson1 was carried on through the    
eighteenth century to its close by      
,collins1 ,gray1 ,goldsmith1 and        
,cowper1 and manifested itself in each  
of  these poets in a way characteristic 
of himself4      ,,gray4    ,in ,collins
 we have seen ,nature described with a  
perfect grace of language  and a        
penetrating of the forms and colors of  

things with human sentiment1  that far  
outwent the minute and faithful         
descriptions of ,thomson4 ,this  same   
movement was maintained1 ,i cannot say  
advanced1 by ,gray4 ,that he  had a fine
 feeling for ,nature is apparent in his 
letters1 which show  more minute        
observation and greater descriptive     
power than his poetry4  ,in these the   
beautiful scenery around the            
,westmoreland ,lakes finds the  earliest
 notice4    ,in dealing with scenery1 as
 with other things1 ,nature without     
,art1 and  ,art without ,nature1 are    
alike inadequate4 ,to hit the balance is
 no easy  task4 ,to let in ,nature fully
 upon the heart1 by means of an art     
which is  colorless and                 
unperceived--this ,english poetry was   
struggling toward1 and  ,gray helped it 
forward1 though he himself only attained
 partial success4  ,often the art is too
 apparent2 a false classicism is        
sometimes thrust in  between the reader 
and the fresh outer world4 ,wordsworth  

has laid hold  of a sonnet of ,gray's as
 a text to preach against false poetic  
diction4  ,and yet ,gray1               
notwithstanding his often too elaborate 
diction1 deserves  better of lovers of  
,english poetry than to have his single 
sonnet thus  gibbeted1 merely because1  
instead of saying the sun rises1 it     
makes        8,reddening ,phbus lift his
 golden fire40    ,in the ode on        
,spring1 it is 8the rosy-bosomed hours1 
fair ,venus' train10  which bring spring
 in4 ,venus is thrust between you and   
the advent of  spring1 much as          
,adversity is made 8the daughter of     
,jove40 ,for the  nightingale we have   
8the ,attic warbler10 as in another ode1
 for the  yellow corn-fields we have    
8,ceres' golden reign40 ,it is needless 
to say  how abhorrent this sort of stuff
 is to the modern feeling about ,nature4
  ,and yet1 notwithstanding these       
blemishes1 ,gray did help forward the   
movement to a more perfect and adequate 
style1 in which ,nature should  come    

direct to the heart1 through a perfectly
 transparent medium of art4  ,when he is
 at his best1 as in the ,elegy1 ,nature 
and human feeling so  perfectly combine 
that the mind finds in all the images   
satisfaction and  relief4 ,there is in  
the ,elegy no image from ,greece or     
,rome1 no intrusive  heathen deity1 to  
jar upon the feeling4 ,from the common  
,english landscape  alone is drawn all  
that is needed to minister to the quiet 
but deep  pathos of the whole4    ,the  
line of poets who carried on the        
description of ,nature during the  last 
century1 ,collins1 ,gray1 ,goldsmith1   
and ,cowper1 much as they differ1  have 
this in common4 ,their style1 though    
each had his own1 was in all  formed by 
a more or less intimate study of the    
classic poets4 ,and they  regarded      
,nature1 all more or less1 in a         
meditative moralizing way4 ,they  were  
all thoughtful1 cultivated men1 with    
convictions and sentiments of  their    
own--sentiments mainly of a grave       

cast1--they saw ,nature through the     
light of these sentiments1 and sought   
out those scenes and images in  ,nature 
which suited their habitual mood4 ,none 
of them are born children  of ,nature1  
knowing her face before they could read 
or write4 ,they were  lovers of books   
before they became lovers of the        
country4 ,hence there is  in them no    
rapture in the presence of ,nature4 ,for
 that we shall have to  look elsewhere  
than to those scholarly gentlemen4      
,,goldsmith4    ,the amiable and        
versatile ,goldsmith looks at ,nature1  
as he passes along1  with a less        
moralizing eye than the sombre-minded   
,gray4 ,in his earliest  long poem1     
8,the ,traveller10 published in #agfe1  
though he surveys many  lands1 his eye  
dwells on man and society rather than on
 the outward  world4 ,in remarkable     
contrast to more recent ,english poets1 
though  he passes beneath the shadow of 
the ,alps1 he looks up to them with     
shuddering horror rather than with any  

kindling of soul4 ,the mountain  glory  
had not yet burst on the souls of men4  
,the one thought that strikes  him is   
the hard lot of the mountaineers4 ,such 
conventional lines as these  are all    
that he has for the mountains           
themselves3--        8,no vernal blooms 
their torpid rocks array1      ,but     
winter lingers in the lap of ,may2      
,no zephyr fondly sues the mountain's   
breast1      ,but meteors glare1 and    
stormy glooms invest40    ,it is only   
when he thinks of the ,switzer's love   
for them that they become               
interesting3--        8,dear is the shed
 to which his soul conforms1      ,and  
dear that hill which lifts him to the   
storms2      ,and as a child1 when      
scaring sounds molest1      ,clings     
close and closer to his mother's breast1
      ,so the loud torrent1 and the     
whirlwind's roar1      ,but bind him to 
his native mountains more40    ,this    
poem1 however1 is remarkable as the     
first expression in ,english  verse of  

that personal interest in foreign scenes
 and people which has  kindled so many a
 splendid strain of our more recent     
poetry4 ,but it is  in 8,the ,deserted  
,village10 his best known poem1 that he 
has most fully  shown the grace and     
truthfulness with which he could touch  
natural  scenes4 ,lissoy1 an ,irish     
village where the poet's brother had a  
living1  is said to have been the       
original from which he drew4 ,in the    
poem1 the  church which crowns the      
neighboring hill1 the mill1 the brook1  
the  hawthorn-tree1 are all taken       
straight from the outer world4 ,the     
features  of ,nature and the works of   
man1 the parsonage1 the school-house1   
the  ale-house1 all harmonize in one    
picture1 and though the feeling of      
desolation must needs be a melancholy   
one1 yet it is wonderfully varied  and  
relieved by the uncolored faithfulness  
of the pictures from ,nature  and the   
kindly humor of those of man4 ,it is    
needless to quote from a poem  which    

every one knows so well4 ,the verse of  
,pope is not the best vehicle  for rural
 description1 but it never was employed 
with greater grace and  transparency    
than in 8,the ,deserted ,village40 ,in  
that poem there is fine  feeling for    
,nature1 in her homely forms1 and       
truthful description of  these1 but     
beyond this ,goldsmith does not venture4
 ,the pathos of the  outward world in   
its connection with man is there1 but no
 reference to  the meaning of ,nature in
 itself1 much less any question of its  
relation  to the ,divine ,being and a   
supersensible world4      ,,cowper4     
,though ,collins1 ,gray1 and ,goldsmith1
 each in his own way1 turned their  eye 
on rural scenery1 and took beautiful    
pictures and images from it into  their 
poetry1 yet it was none of these1 but a 
later poet1 ,cowper1 who1 as  the true  
successor of ,thomson1 carried on the   
descriptive work which he  began4 ,it   
was in #agcj that the first complete    
edition of the 8,seasons0  appeared4    

8,the ,task0 was published in #aghe4    
,this is the poem in which  ,cowper most
 fully put forth his power as a rural   
poet4 ,in the first  book1 8,the ,sofa10
 he thus quaintly makes the first plunge
 from indoor to  outdoor life1 to which 
many a time ere the long poem is ended  
he returns3--                           
8,the ,sofa suits      ,the gouty limb1 
'tis true2 but gouty limb1      ,though 
on a sofa1 may ,i never feel3      ,for 
,i have loved the rural walk through    
lanes      ,of grassy swarth1 close     
cropped by nibbling sheep1      ,and    
skirted thick with intertexture firm    
,of thorny boughs2 have loved the rural 
walk      ,o'er hills1 through valleys1 
and by river's brink1      ,e'er since1 
a truant boy1 ,i passed my bounds1      
,to enjoy a ramble on the banks of      
,thames2      ,and still remember1 nor  
without regret1      ,of hours that     
sorrow since has much endeared1         
,how oft1 my slice of pocket-store      
consumed1      ,still hungering1        

penniless1 and far from home1      ,i   
fed on scarlet hips and stony haws1     
,or blushing crabs1 and berries that    
emboss      ,the bramble1 black as jet1 
or sloes austere40    ,this1 the first  
rural passage in the 8,task10 strikes   
the note of  difference between         
,cowper's way of describing ,nature and 
,thomson's2  ,cowper unhesitatingly     
introduces the personal element1        
describes actual  and individual scenes 
as he himself saw them in his morning or
 evening  walk4 ,or when rural scenes   
are not thus personally introduced1 they
  everywhere come in as interludes in   
the midst of the poet's keen interest   
in human affairs1 his quiet and delicate
 humor1 his tender sympathy  with the   
poor and the suffering1 his indignation 
against human wrong1  his earnest       
brooding over human destiny1 and his    
forward glances to a  time when visible 
things will give place to a higher and  
brighter order4  ,thomson1 on the other 
hand1 describes ,nature as seen by      

itself1 separate  and apart from human  
passion1 or relieved only by some vapid 
episodes of  a false ,arcadianism4      
,hence1 great as is ,thomson's merit for
 having1 first  of his age1 gone back to
 ,nature1 the interest he awakes in it  
is feeble1  because with him ,nature is 
so divorced from individuality and from 
man4  ,it is ,nature in the general     
rather than the individual scene which  
he  describes--,nature aloof from rather
 than combined with man4 ,but her full  
depth and tenderness she never reveals  
except to the heart that throbs  with   
human interest4    ,but though ,cowper  
sees the outer world as set off against 
his own  personal moods and the         
interests of man1 yet he does not allow 
these to  discolor his scenes or to blur
 the exactness of their outlines4       
,fidelity1  absolute veracity1          
characterize his descriptions4 ,he      
himself says that he  took nothing at   
second-hand1 and all his pictures bear  
witness to this4  ,homely1 of course1   

flat1 tame1 was the country he dwelt in 
and described4  ,but to this day that   
,huntingdonshire landscape1 and the     
flats by the  sluggish ,ouse1 in        
themselves so unbeautiful1 acquire a    
charm to the eye  of the traveler from  
the remembered poetry of the 8,task0 and
 for the sake  of him who wrote it4 ,by 
that poetry it may be said that he      
8,for scenes not beautiful did more     
,than beauty for the fairest scenes can 
do40    ,as one out of many landscapes  
described1 take this3--        8,how oft
 upon yon eminence our pace      ,has   
slackened to a pause1 and we have borne 
,the ruffling wind1 scarce conscious    
that it blew1      ,while admiration1   
feeding at the eye1      ,and still     
unsated1 dwelt upon the scene4          
,thence with what pleasure have we just 
discerned1      ,the distant plow       
slow-moving1 and beside      ,his       
laboring team1 that swerved not from the
 track1      ,the sturdy swain          
diminished to a boy6      ,here ,ouse1  

slow-winding through a level plain      
,of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled
 o'er1      ,conducts the eye along his 
sinuous course      ,delighted4 ,there1 
fast rooted in their bank1      ,stand1 
never overlooked1 our favorite elms1    
,that screen the herdsman's solitary    
hut2      ,while far beyond1 and        
overthwart the stream1      ,that1 as   
with molten glass1 inlays the vale1     
,the sloping land recedes into the      
clouds2      ,displaying1 on its varied 
side1 the grace      ,of hedge-row      
beauties numberless1 square tower1      
,tall spire1 from which the sound of    
cheerful bells      ,just undulates upon
 the listening ear1      ,groves1       
heaths1 and smoking villages1 remote4   
,scenes must be beautiful which1 daily  
viewed1      ,please daily1 and whose   
novelty survives      ,long knowledge   
and the scrutiny of years4      ,praise 
justly due to those that ,i describe40  
,an ordinary prospect1 you say1         
described in very ordinary poetry4 ,yes1

  but the scene is a real scene1 one of 
,england's veritable landscapes1  and   
the lines which describe it are genuine 
poetry1--exact1 transparent1  lingering 
lovingly over the scene which the eye   
rests on4 ,and for its  being ordinary  
description1 no doubt it flows easily   
and naturally  along1 but let any one   
try to describe as common a prospect in 
verse1  and he will find that this is   
not ordinary verse1 but instinct with   
that  unobtrusive grace which only true 
poets attain4    ,then how frequently   
the commonest country sights awaken     
,cowper's touch of  native humor4 ,here 
is what he says of the mole and his     
work3 we--                              
8,feel at every step      ,our foot half
 sunk in hillocks green and soft1       
,raised by the mole1 the miner of the   
soil4      ,he1 not unlike the great    
ones of mankind1      ,disfigures earth1
 and1 plotting in the dark1      ,toils 
much to earn a monumental pile          
,that may record the mischiefs he has   

done40    ,in ,keble's 8,essay on       
,sacred ,poetry0 ,i lately read the     
following  comparison between ,cowper   
and ,burns as descriptive poets4        
8,compare10  he says1 8the landscapes of
 ,cowper with those of ,burns4 ,there   
is1 if  we mistake not1 the same sort of
 difference between them1 as in the     
conversation of two persons on scenery1 
the one originally an enthusiast  in his
 love of the works of ,nature1 the      
other1 driven by disappointment  or     
weariness to solace himself with them as
 he might4444 ,the one  all-overflowing 
with the love of ,nature1 and indicating
 at every turn1  that whatever his lot  
in life1 he could not have been happy   
without  her2 the other visibly and     
wisely soothing himself1 but not without
  effort1 by attending to rural objects 
in default of some more congenial       
happiness1 of which he had almost come  
to despair4 ,the latter1 in             
consequence1 laboriously sketching every
 object that came in his way2  the      

other1 in one or two rapid lines which  
operate1 as it were1 like a  magician's 
spell1 presenting to the fancy just that
 picture which was  wanted to put the   
reader's mind in unison with the        
writer's40 ,and then  ,keble quotes1 in 
illustration of the difference1 the     
description of  ,evening in the fourth  
book of the 8,task10 set over against   
the truly  pastoral chant of 8,dainty   
,davie40 ,i cannot regard this estimate 
of  the two poets as altogether true4   
,the passage which ,keble quotes from   
,cowper is not one of his happiest4     
8,evening0 is there personified in      
conventional fashion1 as 8with          
matron-step slow moving10 with night    
treading 8on her sweeping train40 ,if   
the two poets are to be compared at     
all1 let it be when both are at their   
best4 ,again1 is it quite fair to       
contrast poetry of description with the 
poetry of lyric passion1 and to  reject 
the former because it does not possess  
the vivid glow that belongs  to the     

latter8 ,moreover1 the country which    
,cowper had before him suited  better a 
sober and meditative than an impassioned
 strain4 ,there can be no  doubt that   
,cowper turned to ,nature as a relief   
and solace from too sad  thoughts rather
 than with the rapture of a fresh heart 
and a youthful  love4 ,but ,keble surely
 would have been the last to deny that  
this is a  legitimate use to make of    
,nature4 ,he1 before most men1 would    
have felt  that that is one of the      
finest ministries of ,nature which      
,cowper thus  expresses3--        8,our 
groves were planted to console at noon  
,the pensive wanderer in their shades1  
at eve      ,the moonbeam1 sliding      
softly in between      ,the sleeping    
leaves is all the light they wish1      
,birds warbling all the music40    ,if  
it be one of ,nature's offices to make  
the young and the happy happier1  it is 
her no less genuine and beneficent work 
to lighten1 by her glad or  reposeful   
looks1 aged hearts that may be          

world-weary or desponding4    ,how      
exact1 faithful1 and literally true in  
his record of the appearances  of       
,nature ,cowper is1 we have seen4 ,it   
remains to ask whether he had any       
philosophy of ,nature1 and if so1 what  
it was4 ,it could not be that one so    
devout could look habitually on the face
 of ,nature without asking himself  how 
all this visible vastness stands related
 to the ,invisible ,one whom  his heart 
held commune with4 ,all remember his    
well-known line1--        8,god made the
 country1 but man made the town10    and
 this thought echoes through all his    
praises of the country1 and  enhances   
his pleasure in it4 ,but it is not only 
by incidental allusion  that ,cowper    
lets us know his thoughts on these      
things4 ,the 8,task0  contains two long 
passages1 one in the 8,winter ,morning  
,walk10 from line  #gcc to #ijf1 and    
another in 8,the ,winter ,walk at       
,noon10 from line #aha to  #bed1 in     
which his feelings on this subject find 

full utterance1 opening  with the noble 
words1--        8,he is the freeman whom
 the ,truth makes free1      ,and all   
are slaves beside40    ,in the former   
passage1 of the man whose heart is set  
free with this  heavenly freedom he     
says1 in words well known1        8,he  
looks abroad into the varied field      
,of ,nature1 and 444      ,calls the    
delightful scenery all his own4         
,his are the mountains1 and the valleys 
his1      ,and the resplendent rivers4  
,his to enjoy      ,with a propriety    
that none can feel1      ,but who1 with 
filial confidence inspired1      ,can   
lift to ,heaven an unpresumptuous eye1  
,and smiling say1 #8,my ,father made    
them all4'0    ,and so throughout this  
whole passage he continues in a strain  
akin to  that of ,thomson's ,hymn1 but  
more intimate and devout1 his           
acknowledgment  of ,him whom he calls   
8,the only just ,proprietor0 of ,nature4
 ,it is ,he who  alike                  
8,gives its lustre to an insect's wing1 

,and wheels his throne upon the rolling 
worlds40    ,when ,he has enlightened   
the eye and touched the mortal ear--    
8,in that blest moment1 ,nature throwing
 wide      ,her veil opaque1 discloses  
with a smile      ,the ,author of her   
beauties1 who1 retired      ,behind his 
own creation1 works unseen      ,by the 
impure1 and hears his word denied4      
444        8,but1 ,o thou bounteous     
,giver of all good1      ,thou art of   
all thy gifts thyself the crown6        
,give what thou canst1 without thee we  
are poor1      ,and with thee rich1 take
 what thou wilt away40    ,a finer      
strain of rapturous piety could not be1 
but yet in it all there  is no advance  
beyond the old conception of a dead     
mechanical world1  which ,god1 himself  
removed aloof1 moves entirely from      
without4 ,there is  no hint that ,nature
 is alive with a life received from ,god
 himself1 and  mysteriously connected   
with ,him4    ,but in the second passage
 alluded to his thought about ,nature   

takes a  higher reach4 ,speaking of the 
revival of the earth under the touch of 
spring1 he teaches that                 
8,there lives and moves      ,a soul in 
all things1 and that soul is ,god40     
,then1 alluding to the view1 entertained
 by many1 then as now1 that what  we    
call ,nature's operations are upheld and
 carried forward by fixed laws1  which  
spare the ,maker all further trouble1 he
 asserts that all things are  impelled  
8,to ceaseless service by a ceaseless   
force1      ,and under pressure of some 
conscious cause4      ,the ,lord of all1
 ,himself through all diffused1         
,sustains1 and is the life of all that  
lives4      ,nature is but a name for an
 effect      ,whose cause is ,god40     
,nor does he step at this merely        
theistic view4 ,he goes on to the       
distinctly ,christian teaching of ,st4  
,john and ,st4 ,paul1 so easy to        
assert1 so hard to take home to the     
feelings and imagination1 that it is    
the ,eternal and ,incarnate ,word who is

 the ,creator and ,sustainer of this    
visible universe4        8,all are under
 ,one4 ,one ,spirit--his      ,who wore 
the platted thorns with bleeding brows--
      ,rules universal ,nature4 ,not a  
flower      ,but shows some touch1 in   
freckle1 streak1 or stain1      ,of his 
unrivaled pencil40    ,no doubt ,cowper 
held and believed this firmly1 and it   
may be at times  had keen intuition of  
its truth4 ,but it cannot be said that  
he attained  to make it felt in his     
ordinary descriptions of the every-day  
landscape4  ,he does not describe       
,nature as if he habitually saw it as a 
living being  plastic to an overruling  
and informing spirit4 ,rather he beheld 
her more  as common eyes behold her1 as 
a mechanism1 with fixed features and a  
definite outline1 which do not          
spontaneously1 and without an exertion  
of thought1 lend themselves as vehicles 
of spiritual reality4 ,if he had  been  
more possessed with the mystical vision 
he might have been a higher  poet for   

the few4 ,he would not have been what he
 has been called1 the  best of our      
descriptive poets for every-day wear1   
the familiar companion  of every quiet  
,english household4 ,but though         
,cowper's 8,task0 is full of  scenery1  
it is not purely1 or even mainly1       
descriptive poetry4 ,more than  its     
rural character is its deep1 tender1    
universal human-heartedness4  ,man and  
his interests are paramount1 as         
paramount as in ,pope or any other  city
 poet4 ,only it is not the conventional1
 not the surface part of man1  but that 
which is permanent in him and universal4
 ,in his indignation  against injustice 
and oppression1 his hatred of slavery1  
his large sense  of universal           
brotherhood1 and his revolt against all 
that hinders it1 we  already hear in his
 poetry the not far-off murmur of the   
,revolution1 and  of the new era it was 
bringing in4 ,his denunciation of the   
,bastile but  four years before it      
fell--        8,ye horrid towers1 the   

abode of broken hearts1      ,ye        
dungeons1 and ye cages of despair1      
,there's not an ,english heart that     
would not leap      ,to hear that ye    
were fallen at last10--    is a fitting 
prelude to that prayer of thanksgiving  
which ,wordsworth  raised a few years   
afterward from ,morecombe ,sands when he
 first heard of  the fall of            
,robespierre4 ,it is because ,cowper's  
poetry throbs with this  deep and       
universal human sympathy that its       
background of landscape1 plain  as it   
is1 and untransfigured by passion1 comes
 in with such graceful and  refreshing  
relief4 ,of ,cowper's descriptions may  
be said what ,wordsworth  says of his   
own1 there is always                    
8,some happy tone      ,of meditation   
slipping in between      ,the beauty    
coming and the beauty gone40    ,and    
this it is that gives them their        
peculiar charm4      ,,burns4    ,the   
rural descriptions and the reflections  
on the outer world contained  in the    

poetry of ,cowper1 mark the highest     
limit which the feeling for  ,nature had
 reached in ,england at the close of    
last century4 ,but the  stream of       
natural poetry in ,england1 which up to 
that time had been fed  from purely     
native sources1 and which had flowed on 
through all last  century with ever     
increasing volume1 received toward the  
close of the  century affluents from    
other regions1 which tinged the color   
and modified  the direction of its      
future current4 ,of these affluents the 
first and  most powerful was the poetry 
of ,burns4 ,it is strange to think that 
,cowper  and he were singing their songs
 at the same time1 each in his own way  
describing the scenery that surrounded  
him1 and yet that they hardly knew  of  
each other's existence4    ,burns not   
only lived in a world of nature1 of     
society1 and of feeling1  wholly alien  
to that of ,cowper1 but he took for his 
models far different  poets4 ,these     
models were the ,scottish rhymers1      

,allan ,ramsay1 ,ferguson1  and the     
unknown singers of the native ballads1  
and especially of the  popular songs1 of
 his country4 ,proud and self-reliant as
 ,burns was1 he  everywhere speaks of   
,ramsay and ,ferguson as his models and 
superiors4  ,from these he took the     
forms of his poems1 though into these   
forms he  poured a new and stronger     
inspiration4 ,burns's 8,halloween0 is   
framed  on a model of ,ferguson's poem  
called 8,leith ,races10 and 8,the       
,cottar's  ,saturday ,night0 is         
evidently suggested by ,ferguson's      
8,farmer's ,ingle20  but poor           
,ferguson's very mundane view of        
happiness is1 at least in the           
8,cottar's ,saturday ,night10 by ,burns1
 transfigured by a purer and nobler     
sentiment4 ,besides these ,burns knew   
the ,english poets1 such as ,pope and   
,shenstone1 but well for the world that 
he did not come too early under  their  
influence1 else we had probably lost    
much of what is most native  and        

original in him4 ,somewhere in his later
 years he marvels at his own  audacity  
in having ventured to use his native    
,scotch as the vehicle for  poetry1 and 
speaks as if1 had he earlier known more 
,english literature1  he would not have 
dared to do so4 ,yet when he does essay 
to write pure  ,english his poetry      
becomes only of third or fourth-rate    
excellence1 just  as nothing can be more
 mawkish and vapid than ,ferguson1 when 
he makes  ,damon and ,alexis discourse  
in his purely ,english pastorals4 ,only 
in one  poem1 written in pure ,english1 
does ,burns attain high excellence1 and 
that one is the 8,lines to ,mary in     
,heaven40 ,perhaps in nothing1 except   
it may be in humorous or pathetic       
feeling1 is the ,scottish dialect  more 
in place than in describing the native  
scenery4 ,for1 in truth1  the features  
of every county1 if possible of each    
district1 ought to  be rendered in the  
very words by which they are known to   
the natives4  ,when instead of this they

 are transferred into the literary      
language1  they have lost ,i know not   
how much of their life and              
individuality4 ,if  in ,scottish        
scenery1 for instance1 you speak of a   
brook and a grove1  instead of a burn or
 a shaw or wood1 you have really robbed 
the locality  described of all that     
belongs to it4 ,the same thing holds    
still more of  mountain scenery1 in     
which1 unless you adopt the words which 
the country  people apply to their own  
hills1 you had better leave them        
undescribed4  ,this feeling has at last 
forced both poets1 and all who attempt  
to  render ,highland scenery1 to use the
 ,celtic words by which the mountain    
lineaments are described4 ,we must1 if  
we would name these features  at all1   
speak of the 8corrie10 the 8lochan10 the
 8balloch10 and the  8screetan0 or      
8sclidder10 for the book-,english has no
 words for these  things4 ,hence it is  
that ,scottish ,lowland scenery is never
 so truly and  vividly described1 as    

when ,burns uses his own vernacular4    
,and yet ,burns  was no merely          
descriptive poet4 ,it would be difficult
 to name one of  his poems in which     
description of ,nature is the main      
object4 ,everywhere  with him1 man1 his 
feelings and his fate1 stand out in the 
front of his  pictures1 and ,nature     
comes in as the delightful              
background--yet ,nature  loved with a   
love1 beheld with a rapture1 all the    
more genuine1 because  his pulses       
throbbed in such intense sympathy with  
man4 ,every one can  recall many a      
wonderful line1 sometimes whole verse1  
in his love-songs1  in which the        
surrounding landscape is flashed on the 
mind's eye4 ,in that  longer poem1 so   
full of sagacious observation on life   
and character1 8,the  ,twa ,dogs10 how  
graphically rendered is the evening with
 which the poem  closes6--        8,by  
this1 the sun was out o' sight1         
,an' darker gloamin brought the night3  
,the bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone1   

,the kye stood rowtin i' the loan2      
,when up they gat1 an' shook their lugs1
      ,rejoiced they were na men but    
dogs2      ,an' each took aff his       
several way1      ,resolved to meet some
 ither day40    8,the kye stood rowting 
in the loan10 what a picture is that of 
an  old-fashioned ,lowland farm1 with   
the loane or lane1 between two dikes1   
leading up to the out-field or moor6    
,all who have known the reality will  at
 once recognize the truth of the        
picture1 in which the kye1 as they  come
 home at gloamin'1 stop and low1 ere    
they enter the byre3 to others  it is   
uncommunicable4    ,or take that        
description in 8,halloween0 of the burn 
and the adventure  there3--             
8,whyles owre a linn the burnie plays1  
,as thro' the glen it wimpl't2          
,whyles round a rocky scaur it strays   
,whyles in a wiel it dimpl't2           
,whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays1  
,wi' bickering1 dancing dazzle2         
,whyles cookit underneath the braes     

,below the spreading hazel1             
,unseen that night4        8,amang the  
brachens on the brae1        ,between   
her an' the moon1      ,the ,deil1 or   
else an outler ,quey1        ,gat up an'
 gae a croon3      ,poor ,leezie's heart
 maist lap the hool2        ,near       
lav'rock-height she jumpit1      ,but   
mist a fit1 an' in the pool             
,out-owre the lugs she plumpit1         
,wi' a plunge that night40    ,would any
 one who can feel the force of that     
description allow that it  could be     
expressed in literary ,english without  
losing much of its charm8    ,i have    
said that ,burns's glances at ,nature   
are almost all incidental1  and1 by the 
way1 and this enhances their value4     
,there is1 however1 a  passage in an    
,epistle to ,william ,simpson1 in which 
he addresses ,nature  directly1 and     
speaks out more consciously the feeling 
with which she  inspired him3--         
8,o1 sweet are ,coila's haughs an'      
woods1      ,when lintwhites chant amang

 the buds1      ,and jinkin hares1 in   
amorous whids1                    ,their
 loves enjoy1      ,while thro' the     
braes the cushat croods                 
,wi' wailfu' cry6        8,ev'n winter  
bleak has charms to me      ,when winds 
rave thro' the naked tree2      ,or     
frosts on hills of ,ochiltree           
,are hoary gray2      ,or blinding      
drifts wild-furious flee1               
,dark'ning the day6        8,o ,nature  
a' thy shews and forms      ,to feeling1
 pensive hearts hae charms6             
,whether the summer kindly warms        
,wi' life an' light1      ,or winter    
howls1 in gusty storms1                 
,the lang1 dark night6        8,the     
,muse1 nae ,poet ever fand her1         
,till by himsel he learn'd to wander1   
,adown some trottin burn's meander1     
,an' no think lang2      ,o sweet1 to   
stray an' pensive ponder                
,a heart-felt sang60    ,three things   
may be noted as to the influence of     
,burns on men's feeling  for ,nature4   

,first1 he was a more entirely open-air 
poet than any first-rate singer  who had
 yet lived1 and as such he dealt with   
,nature in a more free1  close1 intimate
 way than any ,english poet since the   
old ballad-singers4  ,he did more to    
bring the hearts of men close to the    
outer world1 and  the outer world to the
 heart1 than any former poet4 ,his keen 
eye looked  directly1 with no           
intervening medium1 on the face alike of
 ,nature and  of man1 and embraced all  
creation in one large sympathy4 ,with   
familiar  tenderness he dwelt on the    
lower creatures1 felt for their         
sufferings1  as if they had been his    
own1 and opened men's hearts to feel how
 much  the groans of creation are       
needlessly increased by the indifference
 or  cruelty of man4 ,in ,burns1 as in  
,cowper1 and in him perhaps more than   
in ,cowper1 there was a large going     
forth of tenderness to the lower        
creatures1 and in their poetry this     
first found utterance1 and in no poet   

since their time1 so fully as in these  
two4    ,secondly1 his feeling in       
,nature's presence was not1 as in the   
,english  poets of his time1 a quiet    
contemplative pleasure4 ,it was nothing 
short  of rapture4 ,other more modern   
poets may have been thrilled with the   
same  delight1 he alone of all in last  
century expressed the thrill4 ,in this1 
as in other things1 he is the truest    
herald of that strain of rejoicing  in  
,nature1 even to ecstasy1 which has     
formed one of the finest tones in  the  
poetry of this century4    ,thirdly1 he 
does not philosophize on ,nature or her 
relation to man2 he  feels it1 alike in 
his joyful moods and in his sorrowful4  
,it is to him  part of what he calls    
8the universal plan10 but he nowhere    
reasons about  the life of ,nature as he
 often does so trenchantly about that of
 man4      ,,the ,,ballads4    ,but     
another affluent to the growing         
sentiment1 besides ,burns1 was  the     
ballad-poetry rediscovered1 we may say1 

towards the end of last  century4 ,the  
most decisive mark of this change in    
literary taste was the  collection by   
,bishop ,percy of the 8,reliques of     
,ancient ,poetry0 in #agfe2  and this   
production did much to deepen and expand
 the taste out of which  itself arose4  
,the impulse which began with ,bishop   
,percy may be said to  have culminated  
when ,scott gave to the world his       
8,minstrelsy of the  ,scottish ,border10
 in the opening years of the present    
century4    ,the ballads of course are  
mainly engaged with human incidents1    
heroic  and legendary4 ,yet they contain
 many side-glances at ,nature1 as it    
interwove itself with the actions or the
 sufferings of men1 which are  very     
affecting4 ,this is the way that the    
sight of ,ettrick ,forest struck  the   
king and his men as they marched against
 the outlaw who 8won0 there--           
8,the king was cuming thro' ,caddon     
,ford1        ,and full five thousand   
men was he2      ,they saw the derke    

,foreste them before1        ,they      
thought it awsome for to see40    ,or   
take again the impression made on the   
traveling knight as he comes on  ,clyde 
in full flood3--        8,as he gaed    
owre yon high high hill        ,and doun
 yon dowie den1      ,there was a roar  
in ,clyde water1        ,had fear'd a   
hundred men40    ,or that other gentler 
pathetic touch1 where the maiden says-- 
8,yestreen ,i dreamed a dolefu' dream   
,i fear there will be sorrow1      ,i   
dreamed ,i pu'd the heather green       
,wi' my true love1 on ,yarrow4          
8,o gentle wind1 that bloweth south1    
,from where my love repaireth1          
,convey a kiss from his dear mouth1     
,and tell me how he fareth60    ,in     
verses such as these1 which abound      
throughout the popular ballads and      
songs1 we see the outer world1 not as it
 appeared to the highly educated  poet1 
seeking to express it in artistic       
phrase1 but as it showed itself  to the 
eyes and hearts of country-people1      

living quite familiarly among  its      
sights and sounds4 ,much more might be  
said of the natural imagery  of the     
ballads1 and of the feeling toward the  
outer world indicated by  it4 ,suffice  
it to note that the simplicity and      
pathos1 both of sentiment  and of       
expression1 which the ballads contained1
 entering1 with other  influences1 into 
the minds of the young generation which 
first welcomed  them1 called up another 
view of ,nature than that which the     
literary poets  had expressed1 and      
affected most deeply both the feeling   
and the form of  the new poetry of      
,nature which this century brought in4  
,,ossian4    ,one more poetic influence1
 born of last century1 must be noticed  
before  we close4 ,i mean the ,celtic or
 ,ossianic feeling about ,nature4    ,i 
am not going now to discuss whether     
,macpherson composed the ,gaelic  poems 
which still pass for ,ossian's1 or      
whether he only collected songs  which  
had been floated down by tradition from 

a remote antiquity4  ,whichever view we 
take1 it cannot be questioned that the  
appearance of  this poetry gave to the  
,english-speaking mind the thrill of a  
new and  strange emotion about mountain 
scenery4 ,whether the poetry was old1   
or the product of last century1 it      
describes1 as none other does1 the      
desolation of dusky moors1 the solemn   
brooding of the mists on the  mountains1
 the occasional looking through them of 
sun by day1 of moon and  stars by night1
 the gloom of dark cloudy ,bens or      
cairns1 with flashing  cataracts1 the   
ocean with its storms as it breaks on   
the ,west ,highland  shores or on the   
headlands of the ,hebrides4 ,wordsworth1
 though an  unbeliever in ,ossian1 felt 
that the fit dwelling for his spirit was
        8,where rocks are rudely heaped 
and rent      ,as by a spirit turbulent1
      ,where sights are rough and sounds
 are wild      ,and everything          
unreconciled1      ,in some complaining 
dim retreat1      ,for fear and         

melancholy meet40    ,and such are the  
scenes which the ,ossianic poetry mainly
 dwells on4 ,here  is a description of a
 battle--        8,as hundred winds 'mid
 oaks of great mountains1      ,as      
hundred torrents from lofty hills1      
,as clouds in darkness rushing on1      
,as the great ocean tumbling on the     
shore1      ,so vast1 so sounding1 dark 
and stern1      ,met the fierce warriors
 on ,lena4      ,the shout of the host  
on the mountain height      ,was like   
thunder on a night of storms1      ,when
 bursts the cloud on ,cona of the glens1
      ,and thousand spirits wildly      
shriek      ,on the waste whirlwind of  
the hills40    ,and yet1 though this is 
the prevailing tone1 it is broken at    
times by  gleams of tender light--      
8,pleasing to me are the words of songs1
      ,pleasing the tale of the time    
that is gone2      ,soothing as         
noiseless dew of morning mild      ,on  
the brake and knoll of roes1      ,when 
slowly rises the sun      ,on the silent

 flank of hoary ,bens--      ,the loch1 
unruffled1 far away1      ,lies calm and
 blue on the floor of the glens40#af    
,whatever men may now think of them1    
there cannot be a doubt but these       
mountain monotones took the heart of    
,europe with a new emotion1 and         
prepared it for that passion for        
mountains which has since possessed it4 
,cowper1 ,burns1 the ,ballads1 ,ossian1 
all these had entered into the  minds   
that were still young when this century 
opened1 and added each a  fresh element 
of feeling1 and opened a new avenue of  
vision into the  life of ,nature4 ,when 
the great earthquake of the ,revolution 
had shaken  men's souls to their centre1
 and brought up to the surface thoughts 
and  aspirations for humanity never     
known till then1 the deepened and       
expanded  hearts of men opened          
themselves to receive ,nature into them 
in a way they  had never done before1   
and to love her with a new passion4 ,but
 original  as this impulse in the       

present century has been1 we must not   
forget how  much it owed1 both in itself
 and in its manifold forms of           
expression1 to  the poetry of ,nature   
which the eighteenth century bequeathed4
 ,of that  poetry there were two main   
streams1 a literary and a popular4 ,of  
these  the popular one was probably the 
most powerful in moulding the ,poetry   
that was about to be4          ,,chapter
 ,,xiv4    ,,wordsworth ,,as ,,an       
,,interpreter ,,of ,,nature4      ,there
 are at least three distinct stages in  
men's attitude towards the  external    
world4 ,first comes the unconscious love
 of children--of those at  least whose  
home is in the country--for all rural   
things1 for birds and  beasts1 for the  
trees and the fields4 ,the next stage is
 that of youth and  early manhood1 which
 commonly gets so absorbed in trade1 and
 business1  politics1 literature1 or    
science1--that is1 in the practical     
world of man1  that the early caring for
 ,nature disappears from the heart1     

perhaps never  again to revisit it4 ,the
 third and last stage is that of--some  
at least1  perhaps of many--men1 who1   
after much intercourse with the world1  
and  after having1 it may be1 suffered  
in it1 return to the calm1 cool places  
of ,nature1 and find there a solace1 a  
refreshment1 something in harmony  with 
their best thoughts1 which they have not
 discovered in their youth1  it may be  
because they then less needed it4       
,something like this takes place in the 
history of the race4 ,not to  mention   
the savage state1 men in the primeval   
era1 when history first  finds them1 are
 affected by the visible world around   
them much as we  see children and boys  
now are4 ,nature is almost everything to
 them4  ,they use the forces1 and       
receive the influences of it1 if not in 
a  wholly animal way1 yet in a quite    
unconscious1 unreflecting way4 ,then    
advancing civilization creates city life
 and affairs1 in which man1 with  his   
material1 social1 and mental interests1 

takes the place of ,nature1  which then 
retires into the background4 ,the love  
of it either wholly  disappears or      
becomes a very subordinate matter4 ,so  
it has been1 so it  still is1 with whole
 populations1 which know nothing beyond 
the purlieus  of great cities4 ,but     
probably the intensest feeling for      
,nature is that  which is engendered out
 of the heart of the latest1 perhaps    
over-refined1  civilization4 ,ages that 
have been over-civilized turn away from 
their  too highly-strung interests1     
their too feverish excitements1 to find 
a  peculiar relish in the calm1 the     
coolness1 the equability of ,nature4    
,vinet has well said that 8the more the 
soul has been cultivated by social      
intercourse1 and especially the more it 
has suffered from it1 the more1  in     
short1 society is disturbed and         
agonized1 the more rich and profound    
,nature becomes10--mysteriously eloquent
 for the one who comes to her from  out 
the ardent and tumultuous centre of     

civilization4    ,towards the end of    
last century ,europe had reached this   
third stage4 ,in  all the foremost      
nations it showed itself by this as one 
among many new  symptoms1 that there was
 an awakening to the presence of        
,nature1 and  to the power of it1 with  
an intimacy and vividness unknown       
before4 ,men  became aware of the       
presence of the visible world1 and1     
almost startled  by it1 they asked what 
it meant4 ,what was so old and familiar 
came home  to them as if it were now for
 the first time discovered4 ,here and   
there  were men who1 having had their   
fevered pulses stimulated almost to     
madness by the throes that preceded or  
accompanied the ,revolution1 turned     
instinctively to find repose in the     
eternal freshness that is in the  outer 
world4 ,this tendency showed itself in  
different ways in different  countries1 
and expressed itself variously1         
according to the nature of  the men who 
were the organs of it4 ,in ,france this 

new passion for ,nature  found a        
representative in ,rousseau1 as early as
 #agei1 in whose writings1  in spite of 
their mawkish sentiment1 their morbid   
8self-torturing10 their  false politics 
and distorted morality1 all men of taste
 have felt the  fascination of their    
eloquence and the picturesqueness with  
which the  shores of the ,leman ,lake   
are described4 ,later in the century1   
,goethe1  in ,germany1 expressed the    
same feeling with all the difference    
there is  between the ,teutonic and the 
,gallic genius4 ,more than any poet     
before  him1 or any since1 he combined  
the scientific with the poetic view of  
,nature1 or rather he studied the facts 
and laws of ,nature with the eye  of a  
physicist1 and saw the beauty that is in
 these with the eye of  a poet4 ,it has 
been said of him that he worshiped ,god 
in ,nature4 ,it  would be more true to  
say1 that perceiving intelligently the  
unity that  pervades all things1 he felt
 intensely the beauty of that unity1 he 

delighted in the wide views of the      
,universe which science had recently    
unfolded4 ,but as the moral side of     
things1 as duty and self-surrender      
hardly entered into his thoughts1 it is 
misleading to speak of merely           
scientific contemplation and sthetic    
delight as worship or devotion4         
,worship implies a personal relation to 
a personal being1 and this was  hardly  
in ,goethe's thoughts at all4 ,but      
whatever may be the true account  of his
 ultimate views1 he is the ,german      
representative of the great wave  of    
feeling of which ,i speak4    ,it was a 
fortunate thing for ,england that when  
the time had come when she  was to open 
and expand her heart towards ,nature1 as
 she had never before  done1 the        
function of leading the new movement and
 of expressing it was  committed to a   
soul like ,wordsworth's1--a soul in     
which sensibility1 far  healthier than  
that of ,rousseau1 and deeper than that 
of ,goethe1 was  based on a moral       

nature1 simple1 solid1 profound4 ,it is 
the way in all  great changes of every  
kind4 ,when the change is to come1 the  
man who is  by his nature predestined to
 make it comes too4 ,so it was in       
history and  in art4 ,contemporary with 
,wordsworth's movement1 a change in     
these was  needed4 ,men ever since the  
,reformation had got so absorbed in the 
new  order of things1 that they had     
quite forgotten the old1 and had become 
ignorant of and unsympathetic to the    
past4 ,so history1 art1 architecture1   
and many other things1 had become meagre
 and starved4 ,men's minds1 in  this    
country at least1 had to be made aware  
that there had lived brave  men before  
,cromwell1 good men before ,luther and  
,knox4 ,and ,walter ,scott  was born    
into the world to teach it this lesson1 
and to let in the  sympathies of men in 
full tide on the buried centuries4 ,the 
change which  ,scott wrought in men's   
way of apprehending history was not     
greater than  that which ,wordsworth    

wrought in their feelings towards the   
world of  ,nature1 with which1 not less 
than with the world of ,history1 their  
lives  are encompassed4 ,if ,scott      
taught men to look with other eyes on   
the  characters of the past1 ,wordsworth
 not the less taught them to do the     
same towards the present earth around   
them1 and the heavens above them4  ,this
 was indeed but half of ,wordsworth's   
function4 ,for he had moral truth  to   
communicate to his generation1 not less 
than naturalistic truth4 ,it  is1       
however1 with the latter order of truth 
that we have now to do4 ,yet  in him    
each kind of truth was so               
interpenetrated with the other1 they    
were balanced in such harmony1 that it  
is not possible in any study of  him to 
dissever them4    ,thus it seems that   
two poets were the chief agents in      
letting in on  men's minds two great    
bodies of sentiment1 the one historical1
 the other  naturalistic1 which have    
leavened all modern society1 and even   

visibly  changed the outward face of    
things4 ,sir ,w4 ,stirling ,maxwell1 at 
the ,scott  ,centenary1 remarked that   
the mention of any spot by ,scott1 in   
his poems  or romances1 has increased   
the market value of the surrounding     
acres  more than the highest farming    
could do4 ,and there is not an inn or   
small  farm-house in all the ,lake      
country which does not reap every summer
 in  hard coin the results of           
,wordsworth's poetry4 ,can even the     
stoutest  utilitarian1 seeing these     
things1 say that ,poetry is mere        
sentimental  moonshine1 with no power on
 men's lives an actions8    ,to         
understand what ,wordsworth did as an   
interpreter of ,nature1 we must  bear in
 mind the experience through which he   
passed1 the natural gifts  and the      
mental discipline which fitted him to be
 so4 ,he was sprung from a  hardy ,north
 of ,england stock that had lived for   
generations in ,yorkshire1  afterwards  
in ,cumberland1 in a social place       

intermediate between the  squires and   
the yeomen1 and from both his parents he
 had received the  inheritance of a     
moral nature that was healthy1 frugal1  
and robust4 ,early  left an orphan1 with
 three brothers and one sole sister1 his
 childish  recollections attached       
themselves rather to school than to     
home4 ,at the  age of eight he went with
 his brothers to ,hawkshead1 8an antique
 village1  standing a little way to the 
west of ,windermere1 on its own lake of 
,esthwaite1 and possessing an ancient   
and once famous grammar school40  ,there
 he boarded with a humble village dame1 
and attended the school by  day2 but it 
was a school in which our modern        
high-pressure system was  unknown1 and  
which left the boys ample leisure to    
wander late and early  by the           
lake-margins1 through the copses1 and on
 the mountain-sides4  ,of the village   
dame under whose roof he lodged he has  
left a pleasing  portrait in 8,the      
,prelude40 ,the early and not the least 

beautiful part  of that poem1 and many  
of his most delightful shorter poems1   
refer to  things seen and felt at that  
time4 ,for1 as the late ,arthur ,clough 
has  truly said1 8it was then and there 
beyond a doubt1 that the substantive    
,wordsworth was formed2 it was then and 
there that the tall rock and  sounding  
cataract haunted him like a passion1 and
 that his genius and  whole being united
 and identified itself with external    
,nature40 ,from  this primitive village 
school1 he passed like other            
north-country lads1  to ,cambridge1     
where he spent three years1 the least   
profitable years  of his life1 if any   
years are unprofitable to a man like    
him4 ,more  profit he got from summer   
visits to his own country1 ,hawkshead1  
and his  mother's relations1 and        
especially from a walking tour through  
,france1  ,switzerland1 and the ,italian
 lakes1--regions then but little trod by
  ,englishmen4 ,after graduating at     
,cambridge he gladly left it in #agia to

  plunge headlong into the first fervor 
of the ,french ,revolution4    ,the high
 hopes which that event awoke in him1 as
 in many another  enthusiast1 the dreams
 that a new era was about to dawn on    
down-trodden  man1 these things are an  
oft-told tale4 ,when the revolutionary  
frenzy  culminated in bloodshed and the 
,reign of ,terror1 ,wordsworth's faith  
in it remained for long unshaken and    
unchanged4 ,on the scenes which         
appalled others he looked undismayed1   
and even seriously pondered himself     
becoming a leader in the business4      
,luckily for himself and the world1  he 
was recalled from ,france towards the   
close of #agib by some stern            
home-measures1 probably the cutting     
short of his always scanty supplies4    
,in #agic he published an 8,apology for 
the ,french ,revolution10 in which  he  
rails against all the most cherished    
institutions of ,england1 and           
recommends the ,utopia of absolute      
democracy as the one remedy for all the 

ills which afflict the world4 ,not even 
the murder of ,louis ,,xvi41 nor the    
bloodshed and horrors which followed1   
shook him4 ,the fall of ,robespierre  in
 ,july1 #agid1 gave him new heart to    
believe that his golden dreams would    
yet be realized4 ,but when from the     
struggle he saw emerge1 not freedom1    
peace1 and universal brotherhood1 but   
the ,first ,consul with his armies1  his
 high hopes at last gave way4           
,despairing of the destinies of mankind1
  he wandered about the country aimless1
 dejected1 almost in despondency4       
,public affairs never appear so dark as 
when a man's own private affairs  are   
getting desperate4 ,and such was        
,wordsworth's case at that time4 ,he    
had no profession1 no aim in life1 was  
almost entirely destitute of  funds4    
,from absolute want he was relieved in  
#agie by the bequest of  nine hundred   
pounds left to him by his friend        
,raisley ,calvert4 ,this  enabled his   
sister--a soul hardly less gifted1 and  

altogether as noble  as himself--from   
whom he had been much separated1 to take
 up house with  him1 and to minister not
 only to his bodily but much more to his
 mental  needs4 ,seeing that his office 
on earth was to be a poet1 she turned   
him  away from brooding over dark social
 and moral problems1 and led him to     
look once more on the open face of      
,nature1 and to mingle familiarly with  
humble men4 ,they made themselves a     
home1 first in ,dorsetshire1 then in    
,somersetshire1 where ,coleridge joined 
them4 ,then it was that1 warmed by  the 
society of his sister and his poet      
friend1 and wandering freely among  the 
hills of ,quantock1 the fountain of his 
poetic heart was opened1 which  was to  
flow on for years4 ,soon followed the   
final settlement1 in the last  days of  
last century1 in the small cottage at   
the ,townhead of ,grasmere1  which      
became their home for more than eight   
years1 and will forever  continue to be 
identified with the most splendid era of

 ,wordsworth's  genius4 ,for it was     
during the years immediately preceding  
,grasmere1 and  during the eight        
,grasmere years1 that he attained to    
embody in one poem  after another the   
finest effluence of his spirit4    ,it  
was almost entirely at ,grasmere1       
between the years #ahjj and #ahje1  that
 he composed 8,the ,prelude10 an        
autobiographic poem on the growth  of   
his own mind4 ,it is for the purpose of 
better understanding this  poem that ,i 
have given the foregoing brief framework
 of the outward  facts of ,wordsworth's 
life on which 8,the ,prelude0 comments  
from within4  ,the poem consists of     
fourteen books in blank verse1 probably 
the most  elaborate biographic poem ever
 composed4 ,readers of ,lord ,macaulay's
  ,life may perhaps remember his remarks
 on it3 8,there are10 he says1 8the  old
 raptures about mountains and cataracts2
 the old flimsy philosophy  about the   
effects of scenery on the mind2 the old 
crazy mystical  metaphysics2 the endless

 wildernesses of dull1 flat1 prosaic    
declamations  interspersed40 ,no one    
need be astonished at this estimate by  
,lord  ,macaulay4 ,we see but as we     
feel4 ,to him1 being such as he was1 it 
was  not given to feel or to see the    
things which ,wordsworth most cared for4
  ,no wonder1 then1 that to him the poem
 that spoke of these things was  a      
weariness4 ,doubtless much may be said  
against such a subject for a  poem--the 
growth of a poet's mind from childhood  
to maturity3 much too  against the      
execution1 the sustained self-analysis1 
the prolixity of  some parts1 the       
verbosity and sometimes the vagueness of
 the language4  ,but after making full  
deduction for all these things1 it still
 remains a  wonderful and unique poem1  
most instructive to those who will take 
the  trouble required to master such a  
work4 ,if after a certain acquaintance  
with ,wordsworth's better-known and more
 attractive poems1 a person will  but   
study 8,the ,prelude10 he will return to

 the other poems with a new  insight    
into their meaning and their truth4     
,how highly ,coleridge esteemed it those
 know who remember the poem in  which he
 describes the impression made on       
himself by hearing ,wordsworth  read it 
aloud for the first time after its      
completion3--                           
8,an ,orphic song indeed1      ,a song  
divine1 of high and passionate thoughts1
      ,to their own music chanted40     
,this poem1 read to ,coleridge in #ahje1
 was not given to the world till  ,july1
 #ahej1 a few months after the author's 
death4 ,the reason why ,i  shall now    
dwell on it at some length is because no
 other production of  ,wordsworth's     
gives us so deep and sustained a view of
 his feeling about  ,nature1 and of the 
relation which he believed to exist     
between ,nature and  the soul of man4   
,in ,wordsworth's mental history two    
periods are especially prominent4 ,the  
first was his school-time at ,hawkshead1
 by ,esthwaite ,lake1 eight years  in   

all4 ,the second was the mental crisis  
through which he passed after  his      
return from ,france till he settled with
 his sister in the south  of ,england1  
and ultimately at ,grasmere4 ,the first 
was the spring-time  of his soul--a fair
 spring-time1 in which all the young    
impulses and  intuitions were first     
awakened1 when the colors were laid in  
and deeply  engrained into every fibre  
of his being4 ,the second was the trial 
time1  the crisis of his spirit1 in     
which all his early impulses1           
impressions1  intuitions1 were brought  
out into distinct consciousness1        
questioned  and tested--vindicated by   
reason1 and embraced by will as his     
guiding  principles for life--in which1 
as one may say1 all that had hitherto   
existed inwardly in fluid vapor was     
gathered up1 condensed1 solidified  into
 deliberate substance and permanent     
purpose4    ,a healthful1 happy1        
blissful school-time was that which     
,wordsworth spent  by ,esthwaite        

,lake--natural1 blameless1 pure1 as ever
 boy spent4 ,school  rules were few1    
discipline was light1 school hours were 
short1 and1 these  over1 the boys were  
free to roam where they willed1 far or  
near1 high and  low1 early and late1    
sometimes far into the frosty starlight4
 ,then it was  that ,nature first       
8,peopled his mind with forms sublime   
and fair10    came to him like instincts
 unawares1 as he went about his usual   
sports  with his companions4 ,rowing on 
the lake1 snaring woodcocks among the   
hill  copses by night1 skating by       
starlight on the frozen lake1 climbing  
crags  to harry the raven's nest1       
scudding on horseback over ,furness     
,sands3--        8,from week to week1   
from month to month1 we lived      ,a   
round of tumult40    ,in all this there 
was not anything lackadaisical1 nor any 
maundering  about ,nature1 but only the 
life you might expect in a hardy        
mountain-bred  boy1 with robust body and
 strong animal spirits4 ,these things he

 shared  with other boys4 ,there was    
nothing special in them4 ,but what was  
peculiar1 eminently his own1 was        
this--the feelings that sometimes came  
to him in the very midst of the wild    
hill sports--in the pauses of the       
boisterous games4 ,there were times     
when1 detached from his companions1     
alone in lonely places1 he felt from    
within        8,gleams like the flashing
 of a shield1 the earth      ,and common
 face of ,nature spake to him           
,rememberable things40    ,during his   
later school years he tells us that he  
would walk alone under  the quiet stars1
 and                8,feel whate'er     
there is of power in sound      ,to     
breathe an elevated mood1 by form       
,or image unprofaned1 and ,i would      
stand1      ,in the night blackened with
 a coming storm1      ,beneath some     
rock1 listening to notes that are       
,the ghostly language of the ancient    
earth1      ,or make their dim abode in 
distant winds1      ,thence did ,i drink

 the visionary power40    ,he speaks1   
too1 of a morning when he had stolen    
forth before even the  birds were astir1
                        8,and sate among
 the woods      ,alone upon some jutting
 eminence1      ,at the first gleam of  
dawnlight1 when the vale1      ,yet     
slumbering1 lay in utter solitude4      
,how shall ,i seek the origin8 where    
find      ,faith in the marvelous things
 which then ,i felt8      ,oft in these 
moments such a holy calm      ,would    
overspread my soul1 that bodily eyes    
,were utterly forgotten1 and what ,i saw
      ,appeared like something in       
myself1 a dream1      ,a prospect in the
 mind40    ,these were his supreme      
moments of existence1 when the vision   
first dawned  upon his soul1 when       
without knowing it he was baptized with 
an effluence  from on high1 consecrated 
to be the poet-priest of ,nature's      
mysteries4  ,the light that then came to
 him was in after years 8the            
master-light of  all his seeing10 the   

fountain-head of his highest            
inspirations4 ,from this  was drawn that
 peculiar ethereal gleam which rests on 
his finest after  productions--the ode  
to the ,cuckoo1 the poems on ,matthew1  
,tintern ,abbey1  the ,intimations of   
,immortality1 and many another poem4    
,not that he knew  in these accesses of 
soul what he was receiving4 ,he felt    
them at the  time1 and passed on4 ,only 
long afterwards1 when        8,the      
eagerness of infantine desire0    was   
over1 in hours of tranquil thought1 the 
remembrance of those bright  moments    
recurred1 with a sense of distance from 
his present self so  remote1 that       
8,often did he seem      ,two           
consciousnesses1 conscious of himself1  
,and of some other being40    ,the      
,prelude contains nothing more beautiful
 ,of instructive than the whole  account
 of that ,hawkshead school-time4 ,it    
portrays the wonderful boyhood  of a    
wonderful boy1 though neither he himself
 nor others then thought  him the least 

wonderful4 ,reflecting on it long       
afterwards1 ,wordsworth  saw1 and every 
student of his poetry will see1 that in 
that time lay the  secret of his power1 
by the impulses then received his whole 
philosophy  of life and of poetry was   
determined4 ,natural objects1 he tells  
us1 then  came home to him primarily    
through the human affections and        
associations  of which they are the     
outward framework1--just as the infant  
when he  first comes to know sensible   
objects1 learns to associate them with  
the  interventions of the touch1 the    
look1 the tenderness of its mother4     
,gradually1 even before school-time was 
past1 ,nature had come to have a        
meaning and an attraction for him1 by   
herself1 without the need of such       
intervening agents4    ,further1 he     
tells us1 that while for him at that    
time each individual  rock1 tree1 and   
flower1 had an interest of its own1 he  
came deeply to  feel the great living   
whole which ,nature is4 ,all his        

thoughts1 he says1  were steeped in     
feeling4                          8,i   
was only then      ,contented1 when with
 bliss ineffable      ,i felt the       
sentiment of being spread      ,o'er all
 that moves1 and all that seemeth still2
      ,o'er all that lost beyond the    
reach of thought      ,and human        
knowledge1 to the human eye             
,invisible1 yet liveth to the heart2    
,o'er all that leaps1 and runs1 and     
shouts1 and sings1      ,or beats the   
gladsome air2 o'er all that glides      
,beneath the wave1 yea1 in the wave     
itself      ,and mighty depth of waters4
 ,wonder not      ,if high the          
transport1 great the joy ,i felt1       
,communing in this sort through earth   
and heaven      ,with every form of     
creature1 as it looked      ,towards the
 ,uncreated with a countenance      ,of 
adoration1 with an eye of love40        
8,towards the ,uncreated10--the looking 
thitherward through both ,nature  and   
his own moral being1 so as to find both 

based on one ,divine order1  witnessing 
to one ,eternal ,being1 this is one of  
,wordsworth's deepest  tendencies4 ,this
 is his teaching in many forms1         
emphatically in the 8,ode  to ,duty10 of
 which1 after recognizing duty as the   
law of his own being1  he exclaims1     
8,thou dost preserve the stars from     
wrong2      ,and the eternal heavens    
through thee are fresh and strong40     
,the passage last quoted from 8,the     
,prelude0 has the same meaning1 and     
testifies that from and through his     
communing with ,nature he had learnt1   
even in boyhood1 a true and real natural
 religion--had felt his soul  come into 
contact with ,him who is at once the    
author and upholder of  ,nature and of  
man4 ,not perhaps that1 in his school   
days1 he was fully  aware of what he    
then learnt4 ,he felt at the time1 he   
learnt to know  what he felt afterwards4
 ,at ,cambridge1 when surrounded by     
trivial and  uncongenial interests1 he  
became aware that he had brought with   

him from  the mountains powers to       
counterwork these--                     
8,independent solaces1                  
,incumbencies more awful1 visitings     
,front the ,upholder of the tranquil    
soul40    ,what then was the spiritual  
nutriment he had gathered from that     
boyhood  passed in ,nature's immediate  
presence8 ,he had felt1 and after       
reflection  had made the feelings a     
rooted and habitual conviction1 that the
 world  without him1 the thing we call  
,nature1 is not a dead machine1 but     
something all pervaded by a             
life--sometimes he calls it a soul2 that
 this  living ,nature was a unity2 that 
there was that in it which awoke in  him
 feelings of calmness1 awe1 and         
tenderness2 that this infinite life  in 
,nature was not something which he      
attributed to ,nature1 but that it      
existed external to him1 independent of 
his thoughts and feelings1 and  was in  
no way the creation of his own mind2    
that1 though his faculties  in nowise   

created those qualities in ,nature1 they
 might go forth and  aspire towards     
them1 and find support in them2 that    
even when he was  withdrawn from the    
presence of that ,nature and these      
qualities1 yet  that they subsist quite 
independent of his perceptions of them4 
,and  the conviction that ,nature there 
was living on all the same1 whether  he 
heeded her or not1 imparted to his mind 
kindred calm and coolness1  and fed it  
with thoughts of majesty4 ,this1 or     
something like it1 is  the conviction   
which he tries to express in 8,the      
,prelude40 ,those vague  emotions1 those
 visionary gleams which came to him in  
the happier moments  of boyhood1 before 
which the solid earth was all           
unsubstantialized  and                  
transfigured--these he held to be1      
though he could not prove it1           
intimations coming to his soul direct   
from ,god4 ,in one of these moments1  a 
glorious summer morning1 when he was    
spending a ,cambridge vacation  by the  

,lakes1 he for the first time           
consciously felt himself to be a        
dedicated spirit1 consecrated to truth  
and purity and high unworldly  endeavor4
    ,again1 the invisible voice that    
came to him through the visible universe
  was not in him1 as has often been     
asserted1 a ,pantheistic conception4    
,almost in the same breath he speaks of 
8,nature's self1 which is the breath of 
,god10    and        8,his pure word by 
miracle revealed40    ,he tells us that 
he held the speaking face of earth and  
heaven to be an  organ of intercourse   
with man1--        8,established by the 
sovereign intellect      ,who through   
that bodily image hath diffused1        
,as might appear to the eye of fleeting 
time1      ,a deathless spirit40    ,and
 again1 he says that even if the earth  
was to be burnt up and to  disappear1   
8,yet would the living ,presence still  
subsist      ,victorious40    ,to assert
 this1 whatever it may be1 is not to    
preach ,pantheism4 ,it is  only to make 

the earth not a mere piece of mechanism 
but a vital entity1  and to regard it as
 in living and intimate relation with   
,him who made and  upholds it1 and      
speaks to man more or less distinctly   
through it4    ,i pass now to the second
 stage1 the great turning point in      
,wordsworth's  mental history1 which lay
 between his residence in ,france and   
his  settlement at ,grasmere1 that is1  
between the years #agic and #ahjj4      
,the three years he had spent at        
,cambridge1 from #aghg till the end of  
#agij1 if they did nothing else for him1
 had begun to draw out his social       
feelings4 ,the order of his interests   
had been this4 ,in early boyhood  animal
 activity and trivial pleasures had     
engrossed him4 ,in due time  these had  
retired1 and1 before school-time was    
over1 ,nature stood out  preminent1     
almost alone1 in his affections4 ,up to 
his twenty-second  year1 man had been to
 him a quite subordinate object4 ,what  
,cambridge  began1 residence in ,france 

had perfected1--his interest in man for 
his own  sake1 and in all the great     
problems1 practical and speculative1    
connected  with man4 ,these problems1   
present1 more or less1 to every age1 had
 by  the revolutionary fervor been      
quickened into feverish intensity1 and  
driven on to new and far-reaching       
issues4 ,smitten to the core with the   
contagion of the time1 ,wordsworth began
 to meditate feelingly on man1  his     
sufferings1 his artificial restraints1  
his aspirations1 his destiny4  ,he      
pondered long and deeply the questions  
of government1 and the best  forms of   
it1--of society1 of morality and its    
grounds1 of man's perfection  and its   
possibility4 ,even when for a time under
 the ,reign of ,terror  his immediate   
hopes from the ,revolution faded1 yet he
 did not cease to  ponder the questions 
which recent events had brought to the  
surface4 ,the  fall of ,robespierre and 
his 8atheist crew0 revived his hopes4   
,though none  of the public acts of     

,france pleased him1 yet his faith in   
the people was  still strong2 no        
external blunders1 he believed1 would   
take 8life from  the young ,republic40  
,for a while he dreamed on his golden   
dreams about a perfected humanity4      
,still for a time to him                
8,the whole earth      ,the beauty wore 
of promise40444      8,bliss was it in  
that dawn to be alive1      ,but to the 
young was heaven40    ,but when ,britain
 declared war against ,france1 and      
,france changed a  war of self-defense  
for one of aggression1 then came disgust
 with  his own country1 disappointment  
and vexation with ,france1 despair of   
her promoting the cause of ,liberty4    
,still he clung stubbornly to his  old  
tenets1 and even strained them farther4 
,at last1 when he saw the  ,emperor     
crowned by the ,pope1 this was too much 
for him4 ,it was the last  opprobrium1  
the final blow to his republican ardor4 
,he had seen a people  from whom he     
hoped all things1 a nation which        

erewhile had looked up in  faith to     
heaven for manna1 take a lesson from the
 dog returning to his  vomit4 ,then for 
a time the whole fabric of his hope and 
faith gave way4  ,he fell into distrust1
 not only of nations1 but of himself4   
,the faiths1  intuitions1 aspirations   
which he had hitherto lived by1 failed  
him4 ,he  cross-questioned all          
fundamental principles1 and if they     
could not  vindicate themselves by      
formal proof1 rejected them4 ,at last1  
losing all  hold on conviction1 wearied 
out with endless perplexities1 he       
doubted all  moral truth1 and gave it up
 in despair4 ,with his hopes for man1   
and his  faith in man's destiny1 the    
poetic vision of ,nature1 which had     
hitherto  been with him1 disappeared1   
and his immediate converse with ,him who
  through ,nature spoke to him was for a
 time eclipsed4 ,under the tyranny  of  
the logical and analyzing faculty1 his  
intelligence was no longer  an organ    
which transmitted clearly the light from

 without to the light  within him1 but1 
entangled in the meshes of the finite   
understanding1  he could for a time see 
or receive nothing which he could not   
verify by  logic4 ,he looked on the     
outer world no more in a free           
imaginative way as  of old1 but compared
 scene with scene1 and judged and       
criticised them by  artificial rules4   
8,to the moods      ,of time and season1
 to the moral power1      ,the          
affections and the spirit of the place  
,insensible40    ,this to one like      
,wordsworth1 more than to most men1 was 
abnegation of his  higher self1 was in  
fact moral death4 ,it was the lowest    
depth into which  he sank1 the climax of
 what he himself calls 8his             
degradation40    ,but as his faith in   
man and his love of ,nature had suffered
 shipwreck  together1 it was by the same
 influence they were restored4 ,from the
  temporary obscuration of the master   
vision1 the laying asleep of his  inner 
faculties1 the first thing to arouse him

 was the influence of human  affection1 
and that came to him through the        
presence of his sister1  his 8sole      
sister40 ,when after his return from    
,france he was wandering  about aimless 
and dejected1 she saw and understood his
 mental malady4  ,she made a home for   
him1 and became his hourly companion4   
,if he had  labored zealously to cut off
 his heart from all the sources of his  
former  strength1 she by her influence  
and sympathy maintained for him1 as he  
expresses it1 8a saving intercourse with
 his true self40 ,she saw that his  true
 vocation was to be a poet1 and a       
teacher of men through poetry1 and  bade
 him seek in that alone 8his office upon
 earth40 ,she took him once  more to    
lonely and beautiful places1 till       
,nature again found access to  him1 and1
 combining with his sister's human      
ministry1                               
8,led him back      ,to those sweet     
counsels between head and heart1        
,whence groweth genuine knowledge       

fraught with peace40    ,thus began that
 sanative process which in time restored
 him to his true  self1 to 8his natural 
graciousness of mind10 and made him that
 blessing  to the world he was destined 
to become4    ,but there was not a      
restoration only1 but there came through
 that  same sister an accession of new  
emotions1 an opening of his heart to    
influences heretofore disregarded4 ,his 
nature was originally1 he tells  us1    
somewhat austere and unbending4 ,she    
opened his eyes to perceive  in ,nature 
minute lovelinesses formerly unnoticed1 
his heart to feel  sympathies and       
tendernesses for human things hitherto  
uncared for4 ,in her  company1 whether  
they wandered about the country or dwelt
 in a settled  home1 his former delight 
in ,nature returned4 ,he felt once      
again1 like the  breath of spring1      
visitings of the imaginative power come 
to him2 the  overflowings of 8the       
impassioned life0 that is in ,nature    
streamed in upon  him1 and he stood in  

her presence once more        8,a       
sensitive being1 a creative soul40      
,the restoration1 the sanative process  
,i speak of1 showed itself in two       
directions1 as regards his feeling      
towards man and towards ,nature4        
,first as to man3 his interests and     
sympathies1 stimulated to excess by  the
 political convulsions he had passed    
through1 now found healthier  objects in
 the laboring poor whom he conversed    
with in the fields1 and in  the vagrants
 he met on lonely roads4 ,these became  
his daily schools4 ,in  many an         
exquisite poem he has embalmed the      
incidents and characters he  saw or     
heard of at that time4 ,his early       
upbringing combined with after          
experience and reflection to make him   
esteem simple and humble life  more than
 artificial4 ,the homely ways of the    
people he had spent his  boyhood        
with--village dames1 hardy dalesmen and 
shepherds--concurred with  his own      
native bias to make him love and esteem 

what is permanent1 not  what is         
accidental in human life1 the inner1 not
 the outer man of men1  the essential   
soul1 not its trappings of birth1       
fortune1 and position4  ,this native    
bias had been deepened by all he had    
seen1 felt1 and thought  during the     
revolutionary ferment1 and now became   
the fixed habit and  purpose of his     
mind1 part of his permanent self4 ,for  
in humble men1 when  not wholly crushed 
or hardened by penury1 he seemed to see 
the primary  passions and elementary    
feelings of human nature existing as it 
were in  their native bed--freer1       
stronger1 more unalloyed than in men of 
so-called  position and education1 who1 
as he thought1 were often overlaid by   
artifice and conventionality4 ,the      
formalities which pass by the name of   
education he thought have little to do  
with real feeling and just sense1  and  
intercourse with the talking world does 
little to improve men4 ,he  therefore   
turned away from artificial to natural  

man1 and resolved to let  the world know
 what he had seen and found in men and  
women whose outside  was least          
attractive4        8,of these1 said ,i1 
shall be my song1 of these      ,will ,i
 record the praises1 making verse2      
,deal boldly with substantial things1 in
 truth      ,and sanctity of passion1   
speak of these      ,that justice may be
 done1 obeisance paid      ,where it is 
due40    ,much more might be said of his
 views of man1 as they ultimately       
became1  for his insight into the heart 
and its workings1 though confined to    
certain lines1 and reflective1 not      
dramatic1 was within these lines true   
and deep4    ,but we must now turn to   
consider1 secondly1 what were his views 
about  ,nature1 when they were fully    
matured4 ,he now came to hold with      
conscious  conviction1 what formerly he 
had only felt1 hardly knowing that he   
felt  it1 that ,nature had    ,a        
self-subsistence1 existing outside of   
man's thoughts and feelings1 and  wholly

 independent of them2    ,a unity of    
life and power pervading it through all 
its parts1 and binding  them together   
into a living whole2    ,a true life of 
her own1 which streamed through and     
stimulated his life--a  spirit which1   
itself invisible1 spoke through visible 
things to his  spirit4    ,that this    
life had qualities inherent in it3--    
,calmness1 which stilled and refreshed  
man2    ,sublimity1 which raised him to 
noble and majestic thoughts2            
,tenderness1 which1 while stirring in   
the largest and loftiest things1        
condescends to the lowest1 is with the  
humblest worm and weed as much as  in   
the great movements of the elements and 
of the stars4    ,above all1 ,nature he 
now saw to be the shape and image of    
right reason1  reason in the highest    
sense1 embodied and made visible in     
order1 in  stability1 in conformity to  
eternal law4 ,the perception of these   
satisfied his intellect1 calmed and     
soothed his heart4    ,thus the powers  

and impulses which converse with these  
qualities1 as they  exist in the        
external work1 had quickened within his 
boyish mind1 now  once more in this     
reviving time asserted themselves1 and  
filled him with  a happiness which1 if  
soberer1 was sanctioned by his mature   
reason4 ,the  ,universe therefore was to
 him no mere reverberation of his own   
voice1 no  mere reflection of hues cast 
from his own changeful moods4 ,it was   
not  a thing to practice the pathetic   
fallacy on4 ,it was not true that1 as   
,coleridge dreamed1        8,ours is the
 wedding garment1 ours the shroud40     
,not this at all1 but an existence      
independent of us and our moods1        
stable1 equable1 serene4 ,and our wisdom
 is to receive her native impulses      
without imposing on her our caprices4   
,hence it is that ,nature is to man a   
supporting1 calming1 cooling1 and       
invigorating power4 ,so it was that at  
this time he felt both emotion and      
calmness come to him from ,nature1 from 

the one energy to seek the truth1 from  
the other that happy stillness  which   
fits the mind to receive truth when it  
comes unsought4 ,with clearer           
conviction than ever1 he now saw in     
,nature a power1 which is the shape  and
 image of right reason--reason1 in its  
highest sense1 embodied and  made       
visible4 ,the order1 the stability1 8the
 calm obedience to eternal              
law10--these1 as ,i have just said1     
which are the image of right reason1    
satisfied his intellect1 calmed and     
soothed his feelings4 ,from ,nature's   
calmness1 and from her slow and         
steadily-working processes1 he received 
an admonition to cease from hoping to   
see man regenerated by sudden and       
violent convulsions1 and yet to esteem  
and reverence what is permanent in      
human affection1 and in man's moral     
being1 and to build his hope on the     
gradual expansion and purification of   
these4 ,all these perceptions about     
,nature had been more or less present to

 him from boyhood1 only now what  were  
before but vague emotions came out as   
settled convictions4    ,but there was a
 further step1 which he now made4 ,he   
discovered that  in order to attain the 
highest and truest vision of ,nature1   
the soul  of man must not be altogether 
passive1 but must act along with and in 
unison with ,nature1 must send from     
itself abroad an emanation1 which1      
meeting with natural objects1 produces  
something better than either the  soul  
itself or ,nature by herself could      
generate4 ,this creation is1 as  has    
been observed1 8partly given by the     
object1 partly by the poet's  mind10 is 
neither wholly mind1 nor wholly object1 
but something1 call it  aspect1         
effluence1 emanation1 which partakes of 
both4 ,it is the meeting  or marriage of
 the life that is in the soul with the  
life that is in the  ,universe1 which   
two are akin to each other1 that        
produces the truest  vision and the     
highest poetry4 ,this view ,wordsworth  

illustrates by the  marvelous effect    
produced on a landscape by a change in  
the atmosphere1  a clearing of the      
clouds1 a sudden flood of moonlight let 
down into the  darkness of mountain     
abysses1 such as that he saw at midnight
 while  ascending ,snowdon4 ,a like     
power he thinks the mind can exercise on
  outward things--what he calls         
8,an ennobling interchange      ,of     
action from without and from within4    
,the excellence1 pure function1 and best
 power1      ,both of the object seen   
and eye that sees40    ,when his mind   
thus put forth its higher power on the  
actual familiar  world1 on life's       
every-day appearances1 he seemed to gain
 clear sight  of a new world1 not       
hitherto reflected in books1 but worthy 
to be so  reflected1 and made visible to
 other eyes4 ,this he set himself to    
accomplish1 and the result still lives  
in many a pure and deathless  creation4 
,that combined action of the object seen
 and of the eye that  saw1 above spoken 

of1 is especially embodied in such poems
 as 8,the  ,yew-,trees of ,borrowdale10 
8,stepping ,westward10 8,the            
,leech-,gatherer10 and  8,to the        
,cuckoo40 ,in all these1 and many more1 
the poet1 letting his own  spirit pass  
forth into the scene before him1 and    
become identified with  it1 has caught  
the inner spirit of the place and of the
 hour1 brought it  out1 and interpreted 
it as no mere outward description could 
have done4  ,a few strokes1 giving one  
or two of the most characteristic       
features1 as  seen by a keenly-observant
 eye1 and then he glides into that which
 no eye  can see1 but only the living   
power of a deep and sympathetic         
imagination4  ,and though few other     
imaginations could have penetrated so   
deeply into  the secret of ,nature1 and 
given articulate voice to her silences1 
yet  every true imagination feels at    
once that he had gone to the quick1 and 
truly rendered the invisible but not    
unfelt presence that dwells there4  ,it 

is in this way that he has gathered up  
into himself the sleep that  from oldest
 time has brooded over those            
,westmoreland mountains1 and  uttered it
 in his own perfect and melodious       
language4 ,this has been done  by him   
for that region once for all1 and no    
other poet need attempt to  repeat it1  
any more than a sculptor need essay     
another ,apollo ,belvedere1  or a       
painter a new ,transfiguration4    ,on  
many of the poems descriptive of ,nature
 that followed his recovery  from       
despondency1--that is1 those composed   
between the years #agif and             
#ahjh1--there rests an ethereal gleam1  
something of        8,the light that    
never was on sea or land10    which     
gives to these a peculiar charm1 but    
which is less present in  his later     
productions4 ,this idealizing light was 
drawn either from  remembrances of that 
dream-like vividness and splendor above 
noticed1  which in childhood he saw     
resting on all things1 or from          

occasional  returns of the same vivid   
emotion and quick flashings from within1
 which  his restored happiness in       
,nature for a time brought back4 ,this  
peculiar  light culminates in the 8,ode 
on ,immortality10 though there it is    
rather  a remembrance of something gone 
than a present possession4 ,perhaps the 
last powerful recurrence of this        
visionary gleam which he felt is that   
recorded in the lines composed upon 8,an
 ,evening of ,extraordinary ,beauty  and
 ,splendor10 seen from the little mount 
in front of his ,rydal home in  the year
 #ahah4ag    ,but these high instincts1 
and all the impulses akin to them1 what 
are  they1 what is their worth and      
meaning1 what are we to think about     
them8  ,are they merely erratic flashes1
 garnishing for a moment our sky in     
early  years1 soon to be lost forever in
 the gray light of common day8 ,this is 
the way in which most poets have        
regarded them1 and so they have sung    
many a sad depressing strain over the   

vanished illusions of youth4 ,but  this 
was not the way with ,wordsworth4 ,mr4  
,leslie ,stephens1 in a recent  essay of
 great value1 has admirably pointed out 
how his whole philosophy  is based on   
8the identity between the instincts of  
our childhood and  our enlightened      
reason10 and is busied with expounding  
the process by  which 8our early        
intuitions may be transformed into      
settled principles  of feeling and      
action40 ,those vague instincts1        
,wordsworth believed1  come to man from 
a divine source1 and are given to him   
not merely for  pleasure's sake1 but    
that he may condense them into permanent
 principles  by thought1 by the faithful
 exercise of the affections1 by         
contemplation  of ,nature1 and by high  
resolve4 ,the outer world was best and  
most truly  seen when viewed1 not as a  
solitary existence apart from man1 but  
as the  background of human life1 and   
looked at through the human emotions of 
awe1 reverence1 and love4 ,thus1 though 

those early ideal lights might          
disappear1 something else1 as precious  
and more permanent1 would be  wrought   
into character as the vague emotions    
became transmuted into what  he calls   
8intellectual love10 8feeling           
intellect10 8hopeful reason10 all  of   
which are but different names for that  
state of consciousness which he  held to
 be the organ or eye that sees all      
highest truth4        8,this spiritual  
love acts not nor exists      ,without  
imagination1 which1 in truth1      ,is  
but another name for absolute power     
,and clearest insight1 amplitude of     
mind1      ,and reason in her most      
exalted mood40    ,it may be said1      
perhaps1 ,this philosophy is all well   
enough for those  who have in childhood 
known such ideal experiences in the     
presence of  ,nature4 ,but these are the
 few2 most men know nothing of them4 ,be
 it  so4 ,but to these1 too1 this       
philosophy has a word to speak4 ,if the 
many  have been insensible to ,nature1  

most surely they have known the first   
home affections1 to father and mother1  
to brother and sister4 ,in early  youth 
they have felt the warm glow of         
friendship1 and later in life the  first
 domestic affections may have revived   
more deeply when manhood has  made for  
itself a second home4 ,of these emotions
 time must needs make  many of them past
 experiences4 ,are they then to be no   
more than fond  memories without        
influence on our present selves8        
,wordsworth teaches1 and  all wise men  
agree with him1 that if we allow these  
to pass from us1 as  sunbeams from a    
hill-side1 the character is lowered and 
worsened2 if they  are retained in      
thought and melted into our being1 they 
become the most  fruitful sources of    
ennobled character4 ,the firm purpose   
not to        8,break faith with those  
whom he has laid      ,in earth's dark  
chambers10    --to how many a man has   
this become the chief incentive to      
perseverance in  high endeavor6    ,this

 is a philosophy which will wear4 ,it   
suits not only the visionary  in his    
solitude1 but is fitted as well for the 
counting-house and the  market-place4   
,again1 it may be said1 ,this way of    
looking at ,nature and life may suit a  
man in the heyday of life1 when his     
nerves are strong1 his hopes high1  and 
all things wear their summer mood4 ,in  
such a time he may well sing            
8,naught shall prevail against us or    
disturb      ,our cheerful faith that   
all which we behold      ,is full of    
blessings40    ,no doubt1 through 8,the 
,prelude10 and through all ,wordsworth's
 poetry  contemporary with it1 that is1 
all his poetry composed before the age  
of  thirty-five1 there runs a vein of   
,optimism4 ,but a man's views of life   
are not complete at that age4 ,though he
 never expressly recanted any of  the   
views expressed in 8,the ,prelude10 yet 
he added to them new elements  when time
 and grief showed him other sides of    
life4 ,hitherto1 human  sorrow had been 

to him but a 8still sad music0 far away4
 ,but when1 in  #ahje1 ,nature1 with her
 night and tempest1 drove his favorite  
brother's  ship on the ,shambles of     
,portland ,head1 and wrecked the life he
 greatly  loved1 then he learned that   
she was not always serene1 but could be 
stern  and cruel4 ,then sorrow came home
 to him1 and entered into his inmost    
soul4 ,in that bereavement we find him  
writing--8,why have we sympathies  that 
make the best of us afraid of inflicting
 pain and sorrow1 which yet  we see     
dealt about so lavishly by the ,supreme 
,governor8 ,why should our  notions of  
right towards each other1 and to all    
sentient beings within  our influence1  
differ so widely from what appears to be
 his notion and  rule1 if everything    
were to end here8 ,would it not be      
blasphemous to say  that 444 we have    
more of love in our nature than ,he has8
 ,the thought  is monstrous2 and yet how
 to get rid of it1 except upon the      
supposition  of another and a better    

world1 ,i do not see40 ,this is not the 
language  of a pantheist1 as he has been
 often called1 nor of an optimist1 one  
blind to the dark side of the world1 as 
his poetry would sometimes make  us     
fancy him4 ,from that time on1 the      
sights and sounds of ,nature took  to   
,wordsworth a soberer hue1 a more solemn
 tone4 ,the change of mood is  grandly  
expressed in the 8,elegiac ,stanzas on a
 ,picture of ,peele ,castle10  where he 
says that he now could look no more on  
8,a smiling sea1 and be what ,i have    
been40    ,yet he gives way to no weak  
or selfish lamentation1 but sets himself
 to  draw from the sorrow fortitude for 
himself1 sympathy and tenderness for    
others3--        8,then welcome         
fortitude1 and patient cheer1           
,and frequent sights of what is to be   
borne2      ,such sights1 or worse1 as  
are before me here2--        ,not       
without hope we suffer and we mourn40   
,that is manly and health-giving sorrow4
 ,it was his happiness1 more than  of   

most men1 to use all that came to him   
for the end it was meant for4  ,early   
ideal influences from ,nature1 the first
 home affections1 sorrows of  mature    
manhood--none of them were lost4 ,all   
melted into him1 and did their  part in 
educating his heart to a more feeling   
and tender wisdom4 ,but they  could not 
have done this1 they could not have so  
deepened and purified  him1 had they not
 been received into a spirit based in   
firm faith on ,god1  from whom all these
 things came1 whose purpose for himself 
and others  they subserved4 ,this       
discipline of sorrow was increased when1
 a few years  after the loss of his     
brother1 he laid in ,grasmere           
church-yard two infant  children4 ,those
 trials of his home affections sank deep
 into him1--more  and more humanized his
 spirit1 and made him feel more         
distinctly the  power of those          
,christian faiths which1 though never   
denied by him1 were  present in his     
early poems rather as a latent          

atmosphere of sentiment  than as        
expressed beliefs4 ,it cannot be denied 
that in his pure1 but  perhaps too      
confident youth1 the ,naturalistic      
spirit1 so to call it1 is  stronger in  
his poetry than the ,christian4 ,he     
expected more from the  teaching of     
,nature1 combined with the moral        
intuitions of his soul1 than  these in  
themselves1 and unaided1 can give4 ,he  
did not enough see that  man needs other
 supports than these for the trials he  
has to endure4 ,this  is not a matter of
 positive assertion or of positive      
denial1--rather of  comparative emphasis
 and proportion4 ,we may say that the   
,christian view  of life and ,nature    
does not at first receive the prominence
 which is its  due4 ,but under the      
pressure of sorrow1 and the sense of his
 own weakness1  he more and more turned 
to the ,christian consolations4 ,this   
change was  a very gradual one1 and he  
has left no direct record of it4 ,only  
it is  perceptible here and there in his

 later poems1 and1 what is most to our  
purpose1 it colors the eye with which he
 looked on ,nature4 ,this cannot1       
perhaps1 better be illustrated than by  
comparing two poems composed in  the    
same region at an interval of thirty    
years4 ,in #ahjc1 in his buoyant  youth1
 during an evening walk by the shores of
 ,loch ,katrine1 with his  face toward a
 glowing sunset1 he composed the        
exquisite lines 8,stepping  ,westward10 
in which the scene around him and a     
chance word addressed to  him suggested 
8,the thought      ,of traveling through
 the world that lay      ,before me in  
my endless way40    ,in the autumn of   
#ahca1 when he was in his sixty-second  
year1 he again  passed through the      
,trossachs1 and this was the sentiment  
that then arose  within him4 ,it may1 as
 he himself suggests1 have been colored 
by the  remembrance of his recent       
parting with ,sir ,walter ,scott and the
 thought  of his decay1 but it is       
altogether in keeping with his own      

habitual mood  at that time--           
8,there's not a nook within this solemn 
,pass1      ,but were an apt            
confessional for one      ,taught by his
 summer spent1 his autumn gone1         
,that life is but a tale of morning     
grass      ,withered at eve4 ,from      
scenes of art which chase      ,that    
thought away1 turn1 and with watchful   
eyes      ,feed it1 'mid ,nature's old  
felicities1      ,rocks1 rivers1 and    
smooth lakes more clear than glass      
,untouched1 unbreathed upon4 ,thrice    
happy quest4      ,if from a golden     
perch of aspen spray      7,october's   
workmanship to rival ,may71      ,the   
pensive warbler of the ruddy breast1    
,that moral sweeten by a heaven-taught  
lay1      ,lulling the year1 with all   
its cares1 to rest40    ,there is       
another poem of the same date1 #ahca1   
which1 though it is  seldom quoted1     
shall be given here in full1 since it   
well illustrates  ,wordsworth's later   
phase of feeling about natural objects4 

,it is entitled  8,the ,primrose of the 
,rock10 and refers to a rock which      
stands on the  right hand1 a little way 
up the middle road leading from ,rydal  
to  ,grasmere3--        8,a ,rock there 
is whose homely front        ,the       
passing traveler slights2      ,yet     
there the glow-worms hang their lamps1  
,like stars1 at various heights2        
,and one coy ,primrose to that ,rock    
,the vernal breeze invites4             
8,what hideous warfare hath been waged1 
,what kingdoms overthrown1      ,since  
first ,i spied that ,primrose-tuft1     
,and marked it for my own2      ,a      
lasting link in ,nature's chain         
,from highest heaven let down6          
8,the flowers1 still faithful to the    
stems1        ,their fellowship renew2  
,these stems are faithful to the root   
,that worketh out of view2      ,and to 
the rock the root adheres        ,in    
every fibre true4        8,close clings 
to earth the living rock        ,though 
threatening still to fall2      ,the    

earth is constant to her sphere2        
,and ,god upholds them all3      ,so    
blooms this lonely ,plant1 nor fears    
,her annual funeral4        8,here      
closed the meditative strain1      ,but 
air breathed soft that day1        ,the 
hoary mountain-heights were cheered4    
,the sunny vale looked gay1        ,and 
to the ,primrose of the ,rock      ,i   
gave this after-lay4        8,i         
sang--,let myriads of bright flowers1   
,like thee1 in field and grove          
,revive unenvied2 mightier far1         
,than tremblings that reprove      ,our 
vernal tendencies to hope        ,is    
,god's redeeming love2        8,that    
love which changed--for wan disease1    
,for sorrow that had bent      ,o'er    
hopeless dust--for withered age--       
,their moral element1      ,and turned  
the thistles of a curse        ,to types
 beneficent4        8,sin-blighted      
though we are1 we too1        ,the      
reasoning ,sons of ,men1      ,from our 
oblivious winter called        ,shall   

rise1 and breathe again1      ,and in   
eternal summer lose        ,our         
threescore years and ten4        8,to   
humbleness of hearts descends           
,this prescience from on high      ,the 
faith that elevates the just1           
,before and when we die1      ,and makes
 each soul a separate heaven1        ,a 
court for ,deity40    ,is not this more 
in keeping with the whole of ,nature1   
more true to human  life in all its     
aspects1 than poetry which dwells merely
 on the bright  and cheerful side of    
things8 ,if ,nature has its vernal      
freshness1 and  its 8high midsummer     
pomps10 has it not as well autumnal     
decay1 bleakness  of winter1 and dreary 
visitations of blighting east wind8     
,what are we to  make of these8 ,are not
 suffering and death forever going on   
throughout  animated creation8 ,what    
meaning are we to attach to this8 ,as   
for man1 if  he has his day of youth and
 strength and success1 what are we to   
say of  failure1 disappointment1        

bereavement1 and life's swift decay8    
,this last1  the dark and forlorn side  
of things1 is as real as the bright     
side4 ,how  are we to interpret it8     
,surely1 without attempting any theory  
which will  explain it1 nothing is more 
in keeping with these manifold and      
seemingly  conflicting aspects of life  
than the faith that ,he who made and    
upholds  the ,universe does not keep    
coldly aloof1 gazing from a distance on 
the  sufferings of his creatures1 but   
has himself entered into the conflict1  
has himself become the great ,sufferer1 
the great ,bearer of all wrong1 and  is 
working out for his creatures some      
better issue through a redemptive       
sorrow which is ,divine4 ,such a faith1 
though it does not explain the ills  of 
life1 gives them another meaning1 and   
helps men to bear them as no  other can4
 ,this view of suffering1 latent in much
 of ,wordsworth's poetry1  if not fully 
uttered1 at last found full expression  
in these1 which are  among his latest   

lines4    ,no doubt this1 and the few   
other meditative poems1 composed in the 
same  strain at that later day1 have not
 the magic charm1 the ethereal beauty1  
of those songs sung in buoyant youth1   
when before the transfiguring power  of 
his imagination the earth appeared to be
        8,an unsubstantial faery place40
    ,that passed with youth1 and could  
not return2 but another sedater1 more   
moralizing1 yet sweetly gracious mood   
came on1--a mood which is in keeping    
with that earlier1 its natural product  
representative in one1 whose days  and  
whose moods were as he himself wished   
them to be1 8linked each to  each by    
natural piety40 ,as there is in         
character a grace that becomes  every   
age1 so there is a poetry4 ,and         
,wordsworth's later expressions about   
,nature and life are1 ,i venture to     
think1 as becoming in an old man1       
matured by much experience and by       
sorrow1 as his earlier more ideal poems 
became a young man just restored from a 

great mental crisis1 but still  with    
youth on his side4 ,if the poems of the 
maturer age lost something  that        
belonged to the earlier ones1 they also 
gained new elements1--they  contain     
words which are a support amid the      
stress of life1 and a  benediction for  
its decline4    ,there were many who    
knew ,wordsworth's poetry well while he 
was still  alive1 who felt its power1   
and the new light which it threw on the 
material world4 ,but though they        
half-guessed they did not fully know the
  secret of it4 ,they got glimpses of   
part1 but could not grasp the whole  of 
the philosophy on which it was based    
,but when1 after his death1 8,the       
,prelude0 was published1 they were let  
into the secret1 they saw the  hidden   
foundations on which it rests1 as they  
had never seen them before4  ,the       
smaller poems were more beautiful1 more 
delightful1 but 8,the ,prelude0         
revealed the secret of their beauty4 ,it
 showed that all ,wordsworth's          

impassioned feeling towards ,nature was 
no mere fantastic dream1 but based  on  
sanity1 on a most assured and reasonable
 philosophy4 ,it was as though  one who 
had been long gazing on some building   
grand and fair1 admiring  the vast sweep
 of its walls1 and the strength of its  
battlements1 without  understanding     
their principle of coherence1 were at   
length to be admitted  inside by the    
master builder1 and given a view of the 
whole plan from  within1 the principles 
of the architecture1 and the hidden     
substructures  on which it was built4   
,this is what 8,the ,prelude0 does for  
the rest of  ,wordsworth's poetry4      
,for all his later phases of thought1   
all that followed the republicanism  of 
8,the ,prelude10 ,wordsworth1 ,i know1  
has been well abused4 ,shelley  bemoaned
 him1 ,mr4 ,browning has flouted him1   
and following these all the  smaller fry
 of ,liberalism have snarled at his     
heels4 ,but all his changes  of thought 
are self-consistent1 and if fairly      

judged1 the good faith  and wisdom of   
them all can well be justified4 ,for a  
few years during  the ,revolution he had
 hoped for a sudden regeneration from   
that great  catastrophe4 ,he found      
himself deceived1 and gradually unlearnt
 the  fallacies whence that deception   
had sprung4 ,he ceased to look for the  
improvement of mankind from violent     
convulsions4 ,neither did he expect     
much from gradual political change1 nor 
from those formalities which  we        
nickname education1 not from a revised  
code and payment by results1  not from  
these nor from any outward machinery4   
,but he hoped much from  whatever helps 
forward the growth1 the expanding1 and  
the deepening1 in  all the grades of    
men1 of the 8feeling soul10 by which    
they may become  more sensitive to the  
face of ,nature1 more sensitive towards 
their  fellow-men and the lower         
creatures1 and more open to influences  
which  are directly divine4 ,in these   
things he believed1 for these he wrought

  consistently1 till his task was done4 
,i have dwelt thus fully on the growth  
of ,wordsworth's character1 the  moral  
discipline through which he passed1 and 
the ultimate maturity of  soul to which 
he attained1 in order that we may       
understand his doctrine  regarding      
,nature4 ,he held that it was only      
through the soul that the  outer world  
is rightly apprehended--only when it is 
contemplated through  the human emotions
 of admiration1 awe1 and love4 ,this he 
held all his  life through4 ,but yet in 
his way of dealing with ,nature1 taken  
as a  whole1 we shall not be wrong if we
 note two different1 though not         
conflicting1 phases4 ,in his earlier    
poetic period he was mainly absorbed  in
 the unity and large livingness of      
,nature--in feeling and interpreting    
the life that is in each individual     
thing1 as well as in the whole1 in      
substituting for a mere machine1--a     
universe of death1--one which           
8,moves with light1 and light informed1 

,actual1 divine1 and true40    ,in doing
 this it is not too much to say that his
 poetry is the most  powerful protest   
which ,english literature contains      
against the views  of the world         
engendered by a mechanical deism--the   
best witness to the  spiritual element  
that exists both in ,nature and in man4 
,nor less is it  our surest antidote to 
the exclusively analytic and microscopic
 view of  ,nature1 so tyrannous over    
present thought1 the end of which is    
universal  disintegration4 ,this was the
 work he did when he worked more in his 
earlier1 what has been called1 his      
naturalistic vein4    ,in his later     
period the moral tendency became        
predominant1 not that it  had ever been 
absent from his thought4 ,even at a     
comparatively early time  he had been   
wont to take the sights and sounds of   
the sensible world  as symbols and      
correspondences of the invisible4 ,in   
#ahjf1 hearing the  cuckoo's voice echo 
from ,nab-scar1 as he walked on the     

opposite side of  ,rydal ,mere1 he      
exclaimed3--        8,have not we too8  
yes1 we have        ,answers and we know
 not whence      ,echoes from beyond the
 grave1        ,recognized intelligence6
        8,often as thy inward ear       
,catches such rebounds1 beware--        
,listen1 ponder1 hold them dear2        
,for of ,god--of ,god they are40        
,again1 in that ,evening ode composed in
 #ahah1 to which reference has been     
already made1 as he gazes on            
8,the silent spectacle--the gleam--     
,the shadow--and the peace supreme10    
he exclaims--        8,come forth1 ye   
drooping old men1 look abroad1      ,and
 see to what fair countries ye are      
bound60    ,in his latest phase1 as seen
 in the two poems of #ahca1 quoted      
above1 the  moral has so overpowered the
 naturalistic mood that this            
spiritualizing  of all ,nature into     
symbols of things unseen is rather      
obviously obtruded  than delicately     
hinted4 ,however this may be1 to do     

this1 to treat ,nature  in this way1 so 
to interpret it that it shall touch the 
moral heart of  the most thoughtful and 
apprehensive men--this is one of the two
 highest  functions of inspired ,poetry4
 ,and in the exercise of this function1 
too1  ,wordsworth has taught us much4   
99       99       99       99       99  
,it would be interesting to continue    
this investigation1 and to trace  the   
different phases of the great movement  
towards ,nature1 as it  manifests itself
 in the poets who were ,wordsworth's    
contemporaries1  ,byron1 ,shelley1      
,keats1 ,scott1 and ,keble2 and in the  
poets of the present  generation1 and in
 other writers still living1 who in     
prose works  have treated of sthetics4  
,but to do so would require at least    
another  volume4 ,with ,wordsworth1     
however1 as the great leader of that    
movement1  one may1 with propriety1     
pause for the present4 ,for however     
various and  interesting have been the  
aspects of ,nature that have been       

presented by  his contemporaries1 or by 
more recent poets1 none of them has     
rendered  those aspects he has essayed  
more truly1 broadly1 and penetratingly4 
,and  ,wordsworth alone1 adding the     
philosopher to the poet1 has speculated 
widely and deeply on the relation in    
which ,nature stands1 to the soul  of   
man1 and on the truths suggested by this
 relation4 ,in that relation1  and along
 the lines of thought that radiate from 
it1 is to be found the  true            
interpretation of ,nature--that         
interpretation which man still craves1  
after ,science has said its last word4  
,this interpretation1 however1 is  a    
truth which can only be apprehended by  
the moral imagination1 that  is1 the    
imagination filled with moral light1 and
 which will commend  itself only to the 
most thoughtful men in their most       
feeling moods4 ,it  is not likely ever  
to be vindicated by logical processes1  
or tabulated  in scientific registers4  
,not the less for that is it a vital    

truth1  attesting itself1 as all vital  
truths do1 by the harmony it brings into
  all our thoughts--by the response it  
finds in the inner man4                 
,,footnotes      #a ,quarterly ,review1 
,october1 #ahgj1 pp4 #adc1 #add4    #b  
,wordsworth1 ,preface to ,second        
,edition of ,lyrical ,ballads4    #c    
,myosotis ,alpestris4    #d ,s4 ,t4     
,coleridge1 ,lit4 ,biog4 vol4 ii4 p4    
#bc4    #e ,since writing the above     
passage1 ,i have been pleased to find in
  ,mr4 ,hamerton's ,sylvan ,year1 the   
following passage1 which expresses  more
 fully the same thought4 ,he speaks     
7page #fh7 of 8the delight of the       
citizen in green leaves1 and the        
intensity of sensation about ,nature    
which we find in poets who were bred in 
towns2 whilst those who have  lived much
 in the country1 though they know and   
observe more1 seem to  feel more        
equably1 and to go to ,nature with less 
of sensuous thirst and  excitement40    
#f ,life of ,sir ,isaac ,newton1 by ,sir

 ,david ,brewster1 vol4 ii4 pp4 #djg1   
#djh4    #g ,mozley's ,university       
,sermons1 p4 #ada4    #h ,see ,mller's  
,lectures on ,language1 #b;d series1 pp4
 #dce1 #dcf4    #i ,miss ,wordsworth1 p4
 #bbh4    #aj ,essay on ,keble4    #aa  
,trench on ,parables1 p4 #ac4    #ab    
,born #afba1 died #afie4    #ac ,dawson1
 ,nature and the ,bible1 pp4 #bc1 #bd4  
#ad ,odyssey1 ,b4 vii4 #aab2 ,worsley1  
,b4 vii4 #agth stanza4    #ae ,to this  
assertion ,i must make one exception4   
,since these remarks  were written1 my  
attention has been kindly drawn by      
,professor ,campbell of  ,st4 ,andrews  
to a passage in the ninth book of       
,paradise ,lost1 in which  ,milton for a
 moment reverts to the old rural        
freshness in something of  the manner of
 his youth4 ,it is the place where the  
,tempter first catches  sight of ,eve3--
        8,much he the place admired1 the
 person more4      ,as one who long in  
populous city pent1      ,where houses  
thick and sewers annoy the air1         

,forth issuing on a summer's morn to    
breathe      ,among the pleasant        
villages and farms      ,adjoined1 from 
each thing met conceives delight1       
,the smell of grain1 or tedded grass1 or
 kine1      ,or dairy1 each rural sight1
 each rural sound2      ,if chance with 
nymph-like step fair virgin pass1       
,what pleasing seemed1 for her now      
pleases more1      ,she most1 and in her
 look seems all delight3      ,such     
pleasure took the ,serpent to behold    
,this flowery flat1 the sweet recess of 
,eve      ,thus early1 thus alone40     
#af ,from ,dr4 ,clerk's new translation 
of ,ossian4    #ag ,how greatly to be   
desired is an edition of ,wordsworth's  
entire  works1 in which the poems should
 be printed in the exact chronological  
order of their composition1 along with  
those notes on them which the  poet     
dictated late in life4 ,such an         
arrangement of them is absolutely       
essential to a right understanding of   
their meaning1 and those who desire  to 

attain such an understanding are obliged
 to make the chronological  arrangement 
for themselves1 at great trouble1 and at
 best very  imperfectly4 ,the time when 
such an edition can be made1 with the   
fullest  means for accuracy1 is fast    
passing1 if it is not already past4 ,is 
there  no hope that those in whose hands
 the thing lies will still render this  
great and much-needed service to the    
great poet's memory8