animal sensations, and with the causes which excite these; with the operations of the

elements, and the appearances of the visible universe; with storm and sunshine, with the

revolutions of the seasons, with cold and heat, with loss of friends and kindred, with

injuries and resentments, gratitude and hope, with fear and sorrow. These, and the like,

are the sensations and objects which the Poet describes, as they are the sensations of

other men, and the objects which interest them. The Poet thinks and feels in the spirit of

human passions. How, then, can his language differ in any material degree from that of

all other men who feel vividly and see clearly? It might be proved that it is impossible.

But supposing that this were not the case, the Poet might then be allowed to use a

peculiar language when expressing his feelings for his own gratification, or that of men

like himself. But Poets do not write for Poets alone, but for men. Unless therefore we are

advocates for that admiration which subsists upon ignorance, and that pleasure which

arises from hearing what we do not understand, the Poet must descend from this

supposed height; and, in order to excite rational sympathy, he must express himself as

other men express themselves. to this it may be added, that while he is only selecting

from the real language of men, or, which amounts to the same thing, composing

accurately in the spirit of such selection, he is treading upon safe ground, and we know

what we are to expect from him. Our feelings are the same with respect to metre; for, as

it may be proper to remind the Reader, the distinction of metre is regular and uniform,

and not, like that which is produced by what is usually called POETIC DICTION, arbitrary,

and subject to infinite caprices upon which no calculation whatever can be made. In the

one case, the Reader is utterly at the mercy of the Poet, respecting what imagery or

diction he may choose to connect with the passion; whereas, in the other, the metre obeys

certain laws, to which the Poet and Reader both willingly submit because they are

certain, and because no interference is made by them with the passion, but such as the

concurring testimony of ages has shown to heighten and improve the pleasure which co-

exists with it.

It will now be proper to answer an obvious question, namely, Why, professing these

opinions, have I written in verse? to this, in addition to such answer as is included in

what has been already said, I reply, in the first place, because however I may have

restricted myself, there is still left open to me what confessedly constitutes the most

valuable object of all writing, whether in prose or verse; the great and universal passions

of men, the most general and interesting of their occupations, and the entire world of

nature before me-to supply endless combinations of forms and imagery. Now,

supposing for a moment that whatever is interesting in these objects may be as vividly

described in prose, why should I be condemned for attempting to superadd to such

description the charm which, by the consent of all nations, is acknowledged to exist in

metrical language? to this, by such as are yet unconvinced, it may be answered that a

very small part of the pleasure given by Poetry depends upon the metre, and that it is

injudicious to write in metre, unless it be accompanied with the other artificial

distinctions of style with which metre is usually accompanied, and that, by such

deviation, more will be lost from the shock which will thereby be given to the Reader's

associations than will be counterbalanced by any pleasure which he can derive from the

general power of numbers. In answer to those who still contend for the necessity of

accompanying metre with certain appropriate colours of style in order to the

accomplishment of its appropriate end, and who also, in my opinion, greatly underrate

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