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POETRY AND PROSE.

A poem is the work of a poet; poesy is his skill or craft of making; the very fiction itself, the reason or form of the work.

BEN JONSON.

A poet is a maker as the word signifies; and he that cannot make, that is. invent, hath his name for nothing.

How far have we

Profaned thy heavenly gift of poesy?

Made prostitute and profligate the muse

DRYDEN.

Whose harmony was first ordained above

For tongues of angels.

Id.

Poetry doth raise and erect the mind by submitting the theory of things to the desires of the mind.

They best can judge a poet's worth

Who oft themselves have known

BACON.

The pangs of a poetic birth

By labors of their own.

COWPER.

The poetic forms of language are obviously distinguished from the poetry of thought; for while both may combine, and in their union afford the only perfect exhibition of the power of each, as in our inequaled Milton, the latter is not to be denied to some of our distinguished prose writers, as for instance, Milton's great contemporary, Jeremy Taylor.

***

In an intellectual nature, framed for progress and for higher modes of being, there must be creative energies, powers of original and ever-growing thought; and poetry is the form in which these energies are chiefly manifested.

CHANNING.

If he is formed to be a poet, he watches the humanity in his own breast, in order to comprehend its infinitely changing play upon the wide theatre of the world; he subjects luxuriant fancy to the discipline of taste, and suffers the Bober intellect to survey the banks, between which the stream of inspiration is to leap and sparkle. SCHILLER.

The fourteenth century is the most interesting and important era in the history of the English language; it now assumes a definite form and is clothed with a new dress; its Gothic features are effaced, the Saxon characters are laid aside, attesting that the night of Gothic ignorance has gone down the sky, and heralding the ascension of literature and truth. Writers now arise who, clothing their thoughts in their native tongue, refine, adorn, and dignify it. This age affords one, at least, who rises above the office of the mere translator, and sketching his images from nature herself, is the prototype of that mighty genius who held the mirror up to nature and brought the universe within the enchanted circle of his poetic power.

At this stage of the language, the real value of an author does not depend so much upon the instruction communicated, or the pleasure imparted, as upon the manner in which he employs language, tending to improve it, by using it correctly, preserving its purity, and giving stability to its own idiom; and every such service is a bequest to posterity. This is a simple, a severe test, and excludes many from the pale of authorship. Each writer, however, is to be judged by the standard of his own age. His works are subject to the same laws, by which progression in the arts is regulated; the very spirit of improvement which he infuses into them-unless they be the consummation of

his art creates farther improvement, and his own productions are left behind the age by the very impulse they gave to it. Thus by a single impulse, a chain of sequences is put into operation which multiply and vibrate throughout all time; the spirit of improvement, when once awakened and excited, enters every institution where she is welcomed, and rests only in perfection.

Thus far the transition and formation of the language seems to have been effected by its own innate laws acting under the force of circumstances. History records in the past, some brilliant names, but they are unconnected with the progress and improvement of the language; clothing their conceptions in a foreign tongue they added little or nothing to the crea tion of thought, and are consigned to a peaceful obscurity. Brunne, Mandeville, Wicliffe, Gower, and Chaucer, alone appear during this period and mark its progress and improve their native language. The services, however, which they performed were various and differ widely in degrees of merit ; some opened new channels for English, and made it free of access; others prevented the influx of foreign terms and purified its elements: though long repressed, the stream gushing up from the Saxon fountain began to spread, and as it flowed on precipitating its Gothic forms, it deposited its native gems, and truth and beauty sprang up and flourished wherever it was diffused. The earth became vocal with instruction and song; each leaflet and stream had its charming story, and each star an audible voice. All nature is plastic in the hands of

genius, whatever it touches it forms and executes to its will. The diversity of talent which this period possessed, and the different means employed contributed to the same end; but poetry in these early ages was the most efficient instrument in the hands of genius for improving and polishing the language.

This is illustrated by recurring to the origin of poetry, and considering the object and effect of measure and rhyme.

Modern poetry had its humble though eventful birth from jesters and fiddlers, who cultivated the talent of the day, and amused the popular feelings. In its infancy the same person was poet and songster, the poet composed and sung his own wild lays; then music and poetry mutually depended upon each other, for interest and effect, and it was when combined, when the

Blest pair of syrens voice and verse
Wed their divine sounds,"

that the greatest triumph of either of the infant arts was effected. As the art advanced, the musician was separated from the composer; poetry assumed a At first higher, nobler, and more versatile character. the highest ambition of the poet was to please, and he did not attempt to instruct; the popular topic of the day tinctured with the ruling passion and colored with the superstitions of the times, was his theme; in barbarous ages, it was war and rapine; as society advanced religion and love were celebrated. The minstrel, wandering from place to place, adapted his subject to the company; he sought the blessing and enjoyed the cheer of the pious monk in his cloistered

cell and sung to the fair feudatory in her inaccessible castle, amid embattled towers, crowned with every association that was calculated to inspire the heart and inflame the imagination.

While he had no higher aim than to please, and sought no reward but gifts and entertainment, as the taste of the times was gross, and the manners corrupt, his profession became corrupt also, and only tended to strengthen and inflame the basest passions. The charms of his fiction and the magical effects of his language and music were irresistible; a weak moral sense could not withstand the power of his perverted genius and his popularity became alarming. The power of his poesy could not be extinguished, and to avert the consequences of its pervertion, the minstrel was banished, the church and the cloister. Thus debased and subjected to disgrace, beauty frowned upon him; denied admittance to the cell and the castle, and receiving no reward for his profession, the extinction of the class was inevitable. But his delightful art survived; it was taken from him without ceremony and transplanted from the street and the banquet to a more congenial soil. Religion and literature adopted it, and it became a study, and was blended with innocent amusement and instruction. Through the influence of the ladies and the clergy of the reign of Henry I. delight was thus happily combined with utility; beauty and royal patronage elevated the minstrel's art and infused into it a literary taste; cultivated in the court of Henry, and cherished by the queen, poetry soon acquired the ability to bestow upon her

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