ment, which arises from the union of sensation and reflection but, if all languages are equally proper to express what we think, they are not all equally so to impart what we feel; and the effects of poetry depend still more on the melody of words than on the ideas which they serve to express.

The German is the only modern language which has long and short syllables, like the Greek and Latin; all the other European dialects are either more or less accented; but verse cannot be measured, in the manner of the ancients, according to the length of the syllables: accent gives unity to phrases, as well as to words. It is connected with the signification of what is said we lay a stress on that which is to determine the sense; and pronunciation, in thus marking particular words, refers them all to the principal idea. It is not thus with the musical duration of sound in language; this is much more favorable to poetry than accent, because it has no positive object, and affords only a high but indefinite pleasure, like all other enjoyments that tend to no determinate purpose. Among the ancients, syllables were scanned according to the nature of the vowels, and the connection of their different sounds: harmony was the only criterion. In Germany, all the accessory words are short, and it is grammatical dignity alone, that is to say, the importance of the radical syllable, that determines its quantity; there is less of charm in this species of prosody, than in that of the ancients, because it depends more on abstract combinations than on involuntary sensation; it is nevertheless a great advantage to any language, to have in its prosody, that which may be substituted for rhyme.

Rhyme is a modern discovery; it is connected with all our fine arts, and we should deprive ourselves of great effects by renouncing the use of it. It is the image of hope and of meinory. One sound makes us desire another, corresponding to it; and when the second is heard, it recalls that which has just

selves; premising only, that the secret is not to be found on the surface: that the first reply is likely to be in the negative, but with inquirers of this sort, by no means likely to be the final one."-(Carlyle's Essays, 8vc edition, p. 28.)--Ed.

escaped us. This agreeable regularity must, nevertheless, be prejudical to nature in the dramatic art, as well as to boldness in the epic. We can scarcely do without rhyme, in idioms, where the prosody is but little marked and yet the restraints of construction may, in certain languages, be such, that a bold and contemplative poet may find it needful to make us sensible of the harmony of versification without the subjection of rhyme. Klopstock has banished Alexandrines from German poetry; he has substituted in their stead, hexameters, and iambic verses, without rhyme, according to the practice of the English, which give much greater liberty to the imagination. Alexandrine verses are very ill adapted to German poetry; we may convince ourselves of this by the poems of the great Haller himself, whatever merit they may in other respects possess ; a language, the pronunciation of which is so sonorous, deafens us by the repetition and uniformity of the hemistichs. Besides, this kind of versification calls for sentence and antitheses; and the German genius is too scrupulous and too sincere to adopt those antitheses, which never present ideas or images in their perfect truth, or in their most exact shades of distinction. The harmony of hexameters, and especially of unrhymed iambic verses, is only natural harmony inspired by sentiment; it is a marked and distinct declamation, while the Alexandrine verse imposes a certain species and turn of expression, from which it is difficult to get free. The composition of this kind. of verse is even entirely independent of poetic genius; we may possess it without having that genius; and on the contrary, it is possible to be a great poet, and yet feel incapable of conforming to the restrictions which this kind of verse imposes.

Our best lyrical poets, in France, are, perhaps, our great prose writers,-Bossuet, Pascal, Fénelon, Buffon, Jean-Jacques Rousseau], etc. The despotism of Alexandrines often prevents Ls from putting into verse that which, notwithstanding, would be true poetry; while in foreign nations, versification being much more easy and natural, every poetical thought inspires verse, and, in general, prose is left to reason and argument. We might defy Racine himself to translate into French verse

Pindar, Petrarch, or Klopstock, without giving a character unnatural to them. These poets have a kind of boldness which is seldom to be found, except in languages which are capable of uniting all the charms of versification with perfect originali ty; and this, in the French, can only be done in prose.

In

One of the greatest advantages of the Germanic dialects in poetry, is the variety and beauty of their epithets. The German, in this respect also, may be compared to the Greek; in a single word, we perceive many images, as in the principal note of a concord we have all the sounds of which it is composed, or as certain colors which revive in us the perception of those with which they are immediately connected. French, we say only what we mean to say; and we do not see, wandering around our words, those clouds of countless forms which surround the poetry of the northern languages, and awaken a crowd of recollections. To the liberty of forming one epithet out of two or three, is added that of animating the language by making nouns of verbs; living, willing, feeling, are all expressions less abstract than life, will, and sentiment; and whatever changes thought into action gives more animation to the style. The facility of reversing the construction of a phrase, according to inclination, is also very favorable to poetry, and gives the power of exciting, by the varied means of versification, impressions analogous to those of painting and In short, the general spirit of the Teutonic dialects is independence. The first object of their writers is to transmit what they feel; they would willingly say to poetry what Heloise said to her lover: "If there be a word more true, more tender, and more strongly expressive of what I feel, that word I would choose." In France the recollection of what is suita ble and becoming in society, pursues genius even to its most secret motions: and the dread of ridicule is like the sword of Damocles, which no banquet of the imagination can ever make us forget.

music.

In the arts, we often speak of the merit of conquering a dif ficulty; it is said, nevertheless, with reason, that either the dif ficulty is not felt, and then it is no difficulty, or it is felt, ana

is then not surmounted. The fetters imposed on the mind certainly give a spring to its powers of action; but there is often in true genius a sort of awkwardness, similar in some respects to the credulity of sincere and noble souls; and we should do wrong in endeavoring to subject it to arbitrary restrictions, for it would free itself from them with much greater difficulty than talents of a second-rate order.

CHAPTER X.

OF POETRY.

THAT which is truly divine in the heart of man cannot be defined; if there be words for some of its features, there are none to express the whole together, particularly the mystery of true beauty in all its varieties. It is easy to say what poetry is not; but if we would comprehend what it is, we must call to our assistance the impressions excited by a fine country, harmonious music, the sight of a favored object, and, above all, a religious sentiment which makes us feel within ourselves the presence of the Deity. Poetry is the natural language of all worship. The Bible is full of poetry; Homer is full of religion not that there are fictions in the Bible, or doctrines in Homer; but enthusiasm concentrates different sentiments in the same focus; enthusiasm is the incense offered by earth to heaven; it unites the one to the other.

The gift of revealing by speech the internal feelings of the heart is very rare; there is, however, a poetical spirit in all beings who are capable of strong and lively affections: expression is wanting to those who have not exerted themselves to find it. It may be said, that the poet only disengages the sentiment that was imprisoned in his soul. Poetic genius is an internal disposition, of the same nature with that which renders us capable of a generous sacrifice. The composition

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of a fine ode is a heroic trance. If genius were not versatile, it would as often inspire fine actions as affecting expressions; for they both equally spring from a consciousness of the beautiful which is felt within us.

A man of superior talent said that "prose was factitious, and poetry natural;" and, in fact, nations little civilized begin always with poetry; and whenever a strong passion agitates the soul, the most common of men make use, unknown to themselves, of images and metaphors; they call exterior nature to their assistance, to express what is inexpressible within themselves. Common people are much nearer being poets, than men accustomed to good society; the rules of politeness, and delicate raillery, are fit only to impose limits, they cannot impart inspiration.

In this world there is an endless contest between poetry and prose; but pleasantry must always place itself on the side of prose, for to jest is to descend. The spirit of society is, however, very favorable to that gay and graceful poetry of which Ariosto, La Fontaine, and Voltaire are the most brilliant models. Dramatic poetry is admirable in our first writers; descriptive, and, above all, didatic poetry have been carried by the French to a very high degree of perfection; but it does not appear that they have hitherto been called on to distinguish themselves in lyric or epic poetry, such as it was formerly conceived by the ancients, and at present by foreigners.

Lyric poetry is expressed in the name of the author himself; he no longer assumes a character, but experiences in his own person, the various emotions he describes. J. B. Rousseau, in his devotional odes, and Racine, in his Athalie, have shown themselves lyric poets. They were imbued with a love of psalmody, and penetrated with a lively faith. Nevertheless, the difficulties of the language and of French versification are frequently obstacles to this delirium of enthusiasm. We may quote admirable strophes in some of our odes, but have we any complete ode in which the Muse has not abandoned the poet? Fine verses are not always poetry; inspiration in the arts is an inexhaustible source, which vivifies the whole, from