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where "avows himself an Atheist," that he "is a Pantheist;"—indeed, that he is, was, or is like to be any is to which Mr. Taylor would attach just meaning.

predicament of German Poetry among us, we have no fundamental objection: and for the name, now that it is explained, there is nothing in a name; a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. However, even in this lower But on the whole, what struck us most in and lowest point of view, the Historic Survey is these errors, is their surprising number. In liable to grave objections: its worth is of no the way of our calling, we at first took pencil, unmixed character. We mentioned that Mr. with intent to mark such transgressions; but Taylor did not often cite authorities: for which soon found it too appalling a task, and so laid doubtless he may have his reasons. If it be aside our black-lead and our art (cæstus artemnot from French Prefaces, and the Biographie que.) Happily, however, a little natural inUniverselle, and other the like sources, we convention, assisted by some tincture of arithmefess ourselves altogether at a loss to divine tic, came to our aid. Six pages, studied for whence any reasonable individual gathered that end, we did mark; finding therein thirteen such notices as these. Books indeed are errors: the pages are 167-173 of Volume scarce; but the most untoward situation may Third, and still in our copy, have their marcommand Wachler's Vorlesungen, Horn's Poesie ginal stigmas, which can be vindicated before und Beredsamkeit, Meister's Characteristiken, a jury of Authors. Now if 6 give 13, who Koch's Compendium, or some of the thousand sees not that 1455, the entire number of pages, and one compilations of that sort, numerous will give 3152, and a fraction? Or, allowing and accurate in German, more than in any for translations, which are freer from errors, other literature: at all events, Jürden's Lexicon and for philosophical Discussions, wherein the Deutscher und Prosaisten, and the world-renown- errors are of another sort; nay, granting with ed Leipsic Conversations-Lexicon. No one of a perhaps unwarranted liberality, that these these appears to have been in Mr. Taylor's six pages may yield too high an average, possession;-Bouterwek alone, and him he which we know not that they do,-may not, in seems to have consulted perfunctorily. A cer- round numbers, Fifteen Hundred be given as tain proportion of errors in such a work is the approximate amount, not of Errors, indeed, pardonable and unavoidable: scarcely so the yet of Mistakes and Misstatements, in these proportion observed here. The Historic Survey three octavos? abounds with errors, perhaps beyond any book it has ever been our lot to review. Of these, many, indeed, are harmless enough: as, for instance, where we learn that Gürres was born in 1804, (not in 1776;) though in that case he must have published his Shah-Nameh at the age of three years; or where it is said that Werner's epitaph "begs Mary Magdalene to pray for his soul," which it does not do, if indeed any one cared what it did. Some are of a quite mysterious nature; either impregnated with a wit which continues obstinately latent, or indicating that, in spite of Railways and Newspapers, some portions of this Island are still impermeable. For example, "It (Goetz von Perlichingen) was admirably translated into English, in 1799, at Edinburgh, by William Scott, Advocate; no doubt, the same person who, under the poetical but assumed name of Walter, has since become the most extensively popular of the British writers."-Others again are the fruit of a more culpable ignorance; as when we hear that Goethe's Dichtung und Wahrheit is literally meant to be a fictitious narrative, and no genuine Biography; that his Stella ends quietly in Bigamy, (to Mr. Taylor's satisfaction.) which, however the French Translation may run, in the original it certainly does not. Mr. Taylor likewise complains that his copy of Faust is incomplete: so, we grieve to state, is ours. Still worse is it when speaking of distinguished men, who probably have been at pains to veil their sentiments on certain subjects, our author takes it upon him to lift such veil, and with perfect composure pronounces this to be a Deist, that a Pantheist, that other an Atheist, often without any due foundation. It is quite erroneous, for example, to describe Schiller by any such unhappy term as that of Deist: it is very particularly erroneous to say that Goethe any

Of errors in doctrine, false critical judg ments, and all sorts of philosophical hallucination, the number, more difficult to ascertain, is also unfortunately great. Considered, indeed, as in any measure a picture of what is remarkable in German Poetry, this Historic Survey is one great Error. We have to object to Mr. Taylor on all grounds; that his views are often partial and inadequate, sometimes quite false and imaginary; that the highest produc tions of German Literature, those works in which properly its characteristic and chief worth lie, are still as a sealed book to him; or, what is worse, an open book that he will not read, but pronounces to be filled with blank paper. From a man of such intellectual vigour, who has studied his subject so long, we should not have expected such a failure.

Perhaps the main principle of it may be stated, if not accounted for, in this one circumstance, that the Historic Survey, like its Author, stands separated from Germany by "more than forty years." During this time Germany has been making unexampled progress; while our author has either advanced in the other direction, or continued quite stationary. Forty years, it is true, make no difference in a classical Poem; yet much in the readers of that Poem, and its position towards these. Forty years are but a small period in some Histories, but in the history of German Literature, the most rapidly extending, incessantly fluctuating object even in the spiritual world, they make a great period. In Germany, within these forty years, how much has been united, how much has fallen asunder! Kant has superseded Wolfe; Fichte, Kant; Schelling, Fichte; and now, it seems, Hegel is bent on superseding Schelling. Baumgarten has given place to Schlegel; the Deutsche Bibliothek to the Berlin Hermes: Lessing still towers in the distance

like an Earthborn Atlas; but in the poetical | Heaven, Wieland and Klopstock burn fainter, as new and more radiant luminaries have arisen. Within the last forty years, German Literature has become national, idiomatic, distinct from all others; by its productions during that period, it is either something or nothing.

Nevertheless it is still at the distance of forty years, sometimes we think it must be fifty, that Mr. Taylor stands. "The fine Literature of Germany," no doubt, he has "imported;" yet only with the eyes of 1780 does he read it. Thus Sulzer's Universal Theory continues still to be his roadbook to the temple of German taste; almost as if the German critic should undertake to measure Waverley and Manfred by the scale of Blair's Lectures. Sulzer was an estimable man, who did good service in his day; but about forty years ago sunk into a repose, from which it would now be impossible to rouse him. The superannuation of Sulzer appears not once to be suspected by our Author; as indeed little of all the great work that has been done or undone, in Literary Germany within that period, has become clear to him. The far-famed Xenien of Schiller's Musenalmanach are once mentioned, in some half-dozen lines, wherein also there are more than half-a-dozen inaccuracies, and one rather egregious error. Of the results that followed from these Xenien; of Tieck, Wackenroder, the two Schlegels, and Novalis, whose critical Union, and its works, filled all Germany with tumult, discussion, and at length with new conviction, no whisper transpires here. The New School, with all that it taught, un taught, and mistaught, is not so much as alluded to. Schiller and Goethe, with all the poetic world they created, remain invisible, or dimly seen: Kant is a sort of Political Reformer. It must be stated with all distinctness, that of the newer and higher German Literature, no reader will obtain the smallest understanding from these Volumes.

The truth is, Mr. Taylor, though a man of talent, as we have often admitted, and as the world well knows, though a downright, independent, and to all appearance most praiseworthy man, is one of the most peculiar critics to be found in our times. As we construe him from these volumes, the basis of his nature seems to be polemical; his whole view of the world, of its Poetry, and whatever else it holds, has a militant character. According to this philosophy, the whole duty of man, it would almost appear, is to lay aside the opinion of his grandfather. Doubtless, it is natural, it is indispensable, for a man to lay aside the opinion of his grandfather, when it will no longer hold together on him; but we had imagined that the great and infinitely harder duty was-To turn the opinion that does hold together, to some account. However, it is not in receiving the New, and creating good with it, but solely in pulling to pieces the Old, that Mr. Taylor will have us employed. Often, in the course of these pages, might the British reader sorrowfully exclaim: "Alas! is this the year of grace 1831, and are we still here? Armed with the hatchet and tinder-box; still no symptom of the sower'ssheet and plough?" These latter, for our Author, are implements of the dark ages; the ground is full of thistles and jungle; cut down and spare not. A singular aversion to Priests, something like a natural horror and hydrophobia, gives him no rest night nor day: the gist of all his speculations is to drive down more or less effectual palisades against that class of persons; nothing that he does but they interfere with or threaten; the first question he asks of every passer-by, be it German Poet, Philosopher, Farce-writer, is, "Arian or Trinitarian? Wilt thou help me or not?" Long as he has now laboured, and though calling himself Philosopher, Mr. Taylor has not yet succeeded in sweeping this arena clear; but still painfully struggles in the questions of Naturalism and Supernaturalism, Liberalism and Servilism.

Indeed, quite apart from his inacquaintance with actual Germany, there is that in the structure or habit of Mr. Taylor's mind, which singularly unfits him for judging of such matters well. We must complain that he reads German Poetry, from first to last, with English eyes; will not accommodate himself to the spirit of the Literature he is investigating, and do his utmost, by loving endeavour, to win its secret from it; but plunges in headlong, and silently assuming that all this was written for him and for his objects, makes short work with it, and innumerable false conclusions. It is sad to see an honest traveller confidently gauging all foreign objects with a measure that will not mete them; trying German Sacred Oaks by their fitness for British shipbuilding; walking from Dan to Beersheba, and finding so little that he did not bring with him. This, we are too well aware, is the commonest of all errors, both with vulgar readers, and with vulgar critics; but from Mr. Taylor we had expected something better; nay, let us confess, he himself now and then seems to attempt to comply. With analogous spirit, Professor something better, but too imperfectly succeeds Kant studiously introduces a distinction be in it. tween Practical and Theoretical Reason; and

"The Alexandrian writings do not differ so widely as is commonly apprehended from those of the Königsberg School, for they abound with passages, which, while they seem to flatter the popular credulity, resolve into allegory the stories of the gods, and into an illustrative personification the soul of the world; thus in sinuating to the more alert and penetrating, the speculative rejection of opinions with which they are encouraged and commanded in action

Agitated by this zeal, with its fitful hope and fear, it is that he goes through Germany; scenting out Infidelity with the nose of an ancient Heresy-hunter, though for opposite purposes; and, like a recruiting sergeant, beating aloud for recruits; nay, where in any corner he can spy a tall man, clutching at him, to crimp him or impress him. Goethe's and Schiller s creed we saw specified above; those of Lessing and Herder are scarcely less edify. ing; but take rather this sagacious exposition of Kant's Philosophy:

while he teaches that rational conduct will indulge the hypothesis of a God, a revelation, and a future state, (this, we presume is meant by calling them inferences of Practical Reason,) he pretends that Theoretical Reason can adduce no one satisfactory argument in their behalf: so that his morality amounts to a defence of the old adage, Think with the wise, and act with the vulgar;' a plan of behaviour which secures to the vulgar an ultimate victory over the wise. * Philosophy is to be withdrawn within a narrower circle of the initiated; and these must be induced to conspire in favouring a vulgar superstition. This can best be accomplished by enveloping with enigmatic jargon the topics of discussion; by employing a cloudy phraseology, which may intercept from below the war-whoop of impiety, and from above the evulgation of infidelity; by contriving a kind of cipher of illuminism,' in which public discussions of the most critical nature can be carried on from the press, without alarming the prejudices of the people, or exciting the precautions of the magistrate. Such a cipher, in the hands of an adept, is the dialect of Kant. Add to this, the notorious Gallicanism of his opinions, which must endear him to the patriotism of the philosophers of the Lyceum; and it will appear probable that the reception of his forms of syllogising should extend from Germany to France; should completely and exclusively establish itself on the Continent; entomb with the Reasonings the Reason of the modern world; and form the tasteless fretwork which seems about to convert the halls of liberal Philosophy into churches of mystical Supernaturalism."


These are, indeed, fearful symptoms, and enough to quicken the diligence of any recruiting officer that has the good cause at heart. Reasonably may such officer, beleagured with "witchcraft and demonology, trinitarianism, intolerance," and a considerable list of et-ceteras, and, still seeing no hearty followers of his flag, but a mere Falstaff regiment, smite upon his thigh, and, in moments of despondency, lament that Christianity had ever entered, or, as we here have it, "intruded" into Europe at all; that, at least, some small slip of heathendom, Scandinavia, for instance," had not been "left to its natural course, unmisguided by ecclesiastical missionaries and monastic institutions. Many superstitions, which have fatigued the credulity, clouded the intellect, and impaired the security of man, and which, alas! but too naturally followed in the train of the sacred books, would there, perhaps, never have struck root; and in one corner of the world, the inquiries of reason might have found an earlier asylum, and asserted a less circumscribed range." Nevertheless, there is still hope, preponderating hope. "The general tendency of the German school," it would appear, could we but believe such tidings, "is to teach French opinions in English forms." Philosophy can now look down with some approving glances on Socinianism. Nay, the literature of Germany, "very liberal and tolerant," is gradually overflowing even into the Slavonian nations, "and will found, in new languages and climates, those latest inferences

of a corrupt but instructed refinement, which are likely to rebuild the morality of the Ancients on the ruins of Christian Puritanism."

Such retrospections and prospections bring to mind an absurd rumour which, confounding our author with his namesake, the celebrated translator of Plato and Aristotle, represented him as being engaged in the repair and re-establishment of the Pagan religion. For such rumour, we are happy to state, there is not, and was not, the slightest foundation. Wieland may, indeed, at one time, have put some whims into his disciple's head; but Mr. Taylor is too solid a man to embark in speculations of that nature. Prophetic day-dreams are not practical projects; at all events, as we here see, it is not the old Pagan gods that we are to bring back, but only the ancient Pagan morality, a refined and reformed Paganism;as some middle-aged householder, if distressed by tax-gatherers and duns, might resolve on becoming thirteen again, and a bird-nesting schoolboy. Let no timid Layman apprehend any overflow of Priests from Mr. Taylor, or even of Gods. Is not this commentary on the hitherto so inexplicable conversion of Friedrich Leopold, Count Stolberg, enough to quiet every alarmist?

"On the Continent of Europe, the gentleman, and Frederic Leopold was emphatically so, is seldom brought up with much solicitude for any positive doctrine: among the Catholics, the moralist insists on the duty of conforming to the religion of one's ancestors; among the Protestants, on the duty of conforming to the religion of the magistrate; but Frederic Leopold seems to have invented a new point of honour, and a most rational one, the duty of conforming to the religion of one's father-inlaw.

"A young man is the happier, while single, for being unencumbered with any religious restraints; but when the time comes for submitting to matrimony, he will find the precedent of Frederic Leopold well entitled to consideration. A predisposition to conform to the religion of the father-in-law facilitates advantageous matrimonial connections; it produces in a family the desirable harmony of religious profession; it secures the sincere education of the daughters in the faith of their mother; and it leaves the young men at liberty to apostatize in their turn, to exert their right of private judgment, and to choose a worship for themselves. Religion, if a blemish in the male, is surely a grace in the female sex: courage of mind may tend to acknowledge nothing above itself; but timidity is ever disposed to look upwards for protection, for consolation, and for happiness."

With regard to this latter point, whether Religion is "a blemish in the male, and surely a grace in the female sex," it is possible judg ments may remain suspended. Courage of mind, indeed, will prompt the squirrel to set itself in posture against an armed horseman yet whether for men and women, who seem to stand, not only under the Galaxy and Stellar system, and under Immensity and Eternity, but even under any bare bodkin or drop of prussic acid, "such courage of mind as may


To a German we might have compressed all

tend to acknowledge nothing above itself," were ornamental or the contrary; whether, lastly, religion is grounded on Fear, or on something infinitely higher and inconsistent with Fear,-may be questions. But they are of a kind we are not at present called to med-this long description into a single word: Mr. dle with. Taylor is simply what they call a Philister, every fibre of him is Philistine. With us such men usually take into Politics, and become Code-makers and Utilitarians: it was only in Germany that they ever meddled much with Literature; and there worthy Nicolai has long since terminated his Jesuit-hunt; no Adelung now writes books, Ueber die Nützlichkeit der Empfindung, (On the Utility of Feeling.) Singular enough, now, when that old species had been quite extinct for almost half a century in their own land, appears a native-born English Philistine, made in all points as they were. With wondering welcome we hail the Strongboned; almost as we might a resuscitated Mammoth. Let no David choose smooth stones from the brook to sling at him: is he not our own Goliath, whose limbs were made in England, whose thews and sinews any soil might be proud of? Is he not, as we said, a man that can stand on his own legs without collapsing when left by himself? in these days one of the greatest rarities, almost prodigies.

Mr. Taylor promulgates many other strange articles of faith, for he is a positive man, and has a certain quiet wilfulness; these, however, cannot henceforth much surprise us. He still calls the Middle Ages, during which nearly all the inventions and social institutions, whereby we yet live as civilized men, were originated or perfected," a Millennium of Darkness;” on the faith chiefly of certain long-past Pedants, who reckoned every thing barren, because Chrysolaras had not yet come, and no Greek Roots grew there. Again, turning in the other direction, he criticizes Luther's Reformation, and repeats that old, and indeed quite foolish, story of the Augustine Monk's having a merely commercial grudge against the Dominican; computes the quantity of blood shed for Protestantism; and, forgetting that men shed blood, in all ages, for any cause, and for no cause, for Sansculottism, for Bonapartism, thinks that, on the whole, the Reformation was an error and failure. Pity that Providence (as King Alphonso wished in the Astronomical case) had not created its man three centuries sooner, ligion; but must expect less gratitude when and taken a little counsel from him! On the we farther deny him any feeling for true Poother hand, "Voltaire's Reformation" was suc-etry, as indeed the feelings for Religion and cessful; and here, for once, Providence was for Poetry of this sort are one and the same. right. Will Mr. Taylor mention what it was Of Poetry, Mr. Taylor knows well what will that Voltaire reformed? Many things he de- make a grand, especially a large, picture in the formed, deservedly and undeservedly, but the imagination: he has even a creative gift of thing that he formed or re-formed is still un- this kind himself, as his style will often tesknown to the world. tify; but much more he does not know. How indeed should he? Nicolai, too, "judged of Poetry as he did of Brunswick Mum, simply by tasting it." Mr. Taylor assumes, as a fact known to all thinking creatures, that Poetry is neither more nor less than "a stimulant." Perhaps above five hundred times in the Historic Survey we see this doctrine expressly acted on. Whether the piece to be judged of is a Poetical Whole, and has what the critics have


We cheerfully acquitted Mr. Taylor of Re

ference to Mr. Taylor; he, as we said, is scientific merely; and where there is no cænum and no fanum, there can be no obscenity and no profanity.

It is perhaps unnecessary to add, that Mr. Taylor's whole Philosophy is sensual; that is, he recognises nothing that cannot be weighed, measured, and, with one or the other organ, eaten and digested. Logic is his only lamp of life; where this fails, the region of Creation terminates. For him there is no Invisible, Incomprehensible; whosoever, under any name, believes in an invisible, he treats, with leniency and the loftiest tolerance, as a mystic and luna-named a genial life, and what that life is, he tic; and if the unhappy crackbrain has any inquires not; but, at best, whether it is a lo handicraft, literary or other, allows him to go gical Whole, and for most part, simply, whether at large, and work at it. Withal he is a great- it is stimulant. The praise is, that it has fine hearted, strong-minded, and, in many points, situations, striking scenes, agonizing scenes, interesting man. There is a majestic com- harrows his feelings, and the like. Schiller's posure in the attitude he has assumed; mas- Robbers he finds to be stimulant; his Maid of sive, immovable, uncomplaining, he sits in a Orleans is not stimulant, but "among the weakworld of Delirium; and for his Future looks est of his tragedies, and composed apparently with sure faith,-only in the direction of the in ill health." The author of Pizarr: is su Past. We take him to be a man of sociable premely stimulant; he of Torquato Tasso is turn, not without kindness; at all events of too quotidian to be stimulant." We had unthe most perfect courtesy. He despises the derstood that alcohol was stimulant in all its entire Universe, yet speaks respectfully of shapes; opium also, tobacco, and indeed the Translators from the German, and always says whole class of narcotics; but heretofore found that they "English beautifully." A certain mild Poetry in none of the Pharmacopoeias. NeDogmatism sits well on him; peaceable, in-vertheless, it is edifying to observe with what controvertible, uttering the palpably absurd, as fearless consistency Mr. Taylor, who is no if it were a mere truism. On the other hand, half-man, carries through this theory of stimu there are touches of a grave, scientific oblation. It lies privily in the heart of many a scenity, which are questionable. This word reader and reviewer; nay, Schiller, at one Obscenity we use with reference to our readers, time, said that "Molière's old woman seemed and might also add Profanity, but not with re- to have become sole Editress of all Reviews;'

but seldom. in the history of Literature, has is a rhetorical amplitude and brilliancy in the she had the hotesty to unveil, and ride trium- Messias which elicits in our critic an instinct phant as in these volumes. Mr. Taylor dis- truer than his philosophy is. He has honestly covers that the only Poet to be classed with studied the Messias, and presents a clear outHomer is Tasso; that Shakspeare's Tragedies line of it; neither has the still purer spirit of are cousins-german to those of Otway; that Klopstock's Odes escaped him. We have poor, moaning, monotonous Macpherson is English Biographies of Klopstock, and a mian epic poet. Lastly, he runs a laboured serable Version of his great Work; but perparallel between Schiller, Goethe, and Kotze-haps there is no writing in our language that bue; one is more this, the other more that; offers so correct an emblem of him as this one strives hither, the other thither, through analysis. Of the Odes we shall here present the whole string of critical predicables; al- one, in Mr. Taylor's translation, which, though most as if we should compare scientifically in prose, the reader will not fail to approve of. Milton's Paradise Lost, the Prophecies of Isaiah, It is perhaps, the finest passage in his whole and Mat Lewis's Tales of Terror. Historic Survey.

Such is Mr. Taylor; a strong-hearted oak, but in an unkindly soil, and beat upon from infancy by Trinitarian and Tory Southwesters such is the result which native vigour, wind-storms, and thirsty mould have made out among them; grim boughs dishevelled in multangular complexity, and of the stiffness of brass; a tree crooked every way, unwedgeable and gnarled. What bandages or ages of ours, or of man's, could straighten it, now that it has grown there for half a century? We simply point out that there is excellent tough knee-timber in it, and of straight timber little or none.


"I saw-tell me, was I beholding what now happens, or was I beholding futurity?—I saw with the Muse of Britain the Muse of Germany engaged in competitory race-flying warm to the goal of coronation.

"Two goals, where the prospect terminates, cord-bordered the career: Oaks of the forest shaded the one; near to the other waved Palms in the evening shadow.

"Accustomed to contest, stepped she from Albion proudly into the arena; as she stepped, when, with the Grecian Muse and with her from the Capitol, she entered the lists.

"She beheld the young trembling rival, who trembled yet with dignity; glowing roses wor thy of victory streamed flaming over her cheek, and her golden hair flew abroad.

"Proud of her courageous rival, prouder of herself, the lofty Britoness measured, but with noble glance, thee, Tuiskone: Yes, by the bards, I grew up with thee in the grove of oaks:

"But a tale had reached me that thou wast no more. Pardon, O Muse, if thou beest immortal, pardon that I but now learn it. Yonder at the goal alone will I learn it.

In fact, taking Mr. Taylor as he is and must be, and keeping a perpetual account and protest with him on these peculiarities of his, we find that on various parts of his subject he has profitable things to say. The Göttingen group of Poets, "Bürger and his set," such "Already she retained with pain in her tuas they were, are pleasantly delineated. The multuous bosom the contracted breath; allike may be said of the somewhat earlier ready she hung bending forward towards the Swiss brotherhood, whereof Bodmer and Brei-goal; already the herald was lifting the trumtinger are the central figures; though worthy, pet, and her eyes swam with intoxicating joy. wonderful Lavater, the wandering Physiognomist and Evangelist, and Protestant Pope, should not have been first forgotten, and then crammed into an insignificant paragraph. Lessing, again, is but poorly managed; his main performance, as was natural, reckoned to be the writing of Nathan the Wise; we have no original portrait here, but a pantagraphical reduced copy of some foreign sketches or scratches, quite unworthy of such a man, in such an historical position, standing on the confines of Light and Darkness, like Day on the misty mountain tops. Of Herder also there is much omitted; the Geschichte der Menscheit scarcely alluded to; yet some features are given, accurately and even beautifully. A slow-rolling grandiloquence is in Mr. Taylor's best passages, of which this is one: if no poetic light, he has occasionally a glow of true rhetorical heat. Wieland is lovingly painted, yet on the whole faithfully, as he looked some fifty years ago, if not as he now looks: this is the longest article in the Historic Survey, and much too long; those Paganizing Dialogues in particular had never much worth, and at present have scarcely any.

"There it stands. But dost thou see the still further one, and its crowns also? This represt courage, this proud silence, this look which sinks fiery upon the ground, I know:

"Yet weigh once again, ere the herald sound a note dangerous to thee. Am I not she who have measured myself with her from Thermopylæ, and with the stately one of the Seven Hills?"

"She spake: the earnest decisive moment drew nearer with the herald. I love thee,' answered quick with looks of flame, Teutona, Britoness, I love thee to enthusiasm;

"But not warmer than immortality and those Palms: Touch, if so wills thy genius, touch them before me; yet will I, when thou seizest it, seize also the crown.

Perhaps the best of all these Essays is that on Klopstock. The sphere of Klopstock's genius does not transcend Mr. Taylor's scale of poetic altitudes; though it perhaps reaches the highest grade there; the "stimulant" theory recedes into the back-ground; indeed there

"And, Oh how I tremble! O ye Immortals, perhaps I may reach first the high goal: then, oh then, may thy breath attain my loose. streaming hair!"

The herald shrilled. They flew with eagle speed. The wide career smoked up clouds of dust. I looked. Beyond the Oak billowed yet thicker the dust, and I lost them."

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