vale of ocean and lake- -the heavens and all the lights that are looking from them -the mute creation-the human form and countenance -- and more boundless than the world of sight and sound, the world within each human bosom-the unseen elements of humanity-its passions, its fears and hopes-its joys and sorrows the first recollections of childhood-the blessed memory of the happy dead- and the undying aspirations that spring from a holy faith. Such as these are the poet's theme, and he is original, when he suffuses a spot of earth with the light of imagination-or when by the same creative power he reveals a single association between the outward world of sense and the inward world of the soul-when he unsensualizes what is bodily, or sends a ray into the depths of the heart— when he breathes life and hope into any forsaken principle of our being-in a word, when he reclaims any desolate region of thought or feeling, and enlarges the sphere of enjoyment and sensibility for the honor of humanity. In some form, this has been the tendency of the great poets of all ages, modified by individual character and the times in which they lived. It is one spirit in Pindar moralizing the strife of national games and kindling heroic emotions-in Homer dealing with man in the larger theatre of hostile nations-in Spenser displaying human passions through his gorgeous allegory-in Shakspeare giving to the spirits of man's inner nature form and speech and action-in Milton elaborating the great tragedy of mankind—and in Wordsworth, his

"theme

No other than the very heart of man,"

restoring to the lowly conditions of society their native portion arraying homely life and household affections with a glory more enduring than the pomp of chivalry-creating an affinity between the objects of nature and our moral being-disclosing the forms of beauty still left on earth, and spiritualizing the senses, the intellect, and the passions, by teaching that within the soul there is an instinct aspiring beyond what is fugitive into the region of

"truths that wake

To perish never!"

The earliest date to any poem of Wordsworth is the year 1786 a juvenile effusion of his sixteenth year; the late edition of his works was issued in 1837 ;-more than half a centu

ry devoted to the Art. His productions in prose best known are the Essays interspersed among his poems, beside which are the "Description of the Lake Country in the north of England," (restored in the Philadelphia edition to its connexion with the poems,) and the "tract on the Convention of Cintra," composed during the peninsular war. Our present purpose is with Wordsworth's poetry, and we allude to his writings in prose only as illustrative of it, and to remark that all is prompted by the same spirit. No matter what may be the subject, whether, in verse, some little trait of childhood. an incident in rural life -the description of an old beggar-a classical tradition— a burst of indignant patriotism to animate his countrymen in arms a high strain of thanksgiving for a nation bowing down in gratitude for victories which rescued Europe from military despotism-the history of the church in England - the mourning over some retired grave-the sage remonstrance with skepticism—or some deep intimation of immortality springing from communings with his own inmost soul; or whether, in prose, it be the description of some landscape, or the fervid exposure of an ignominious negotiation-the same animating spirit may be found in each. There is a symmetry in the productions of Wordsworth's youth, his manhood, and more advanced years. In the essential properties of his writings at different periods, we perceive no fluctuations, no recantation or backward movement. From the few lines bearing the earlist date down to the latest of his poems, the direction of his mind is the same-his imagination strengthening with his years. Let it not be thought that this implies a monotony in his poetry, or a uniformity in the modes in which it is conveyed. It is the unity of its spirit, and a consequent singleness of purpose, that we speak of-a zeal to call forth the divine part of man's nature, often slumbering or imbruted, and to guide the impulses of the heart, by teaching it "nobler loves and nobler cares." In the now rare tract on the convention of Cintra, amid many eloquent passages, whose impassioned strain needs only the garb of metre to transfigure them into poetry, we find the following philosophical estimate of human nature, which is admirably illustrative of the aims of the author's poetry:

"It is a belief propagated in books, and which passes currently among talking men as part of their familiar wisdom, that the hearts of the many are constitutionally weak; that they languish, and are slow to answer to the requisitions of things. I entreat those who are in this delusion, to look behind them and about them for the

evidence of experience. Now, this, rightly understood, not only gives no support to any such belief, but proves that the truth is in direct opposition to it. The history of all ages; tumults after tumults; wars, foreign or civil, with short or no breathing-spaces, from generation to generation; wars why and wherefore? Yet with courage, with perseverance, with self sacrifice, with enthusiasm with cruelty driving forward the cruel man from its own terrible nakedness, and attracting the more benign by the accompaniment of some shadow which seems to sanctify it; the senseless weaving and interweaving of factions-vanishing and reviving and piercing each other like the northern lights; public commotions, and those in the bosom of the individual; the long calenture to which the lover is subject; the blast, like the blast of the desert, which sweeps perenially through a frightful solitude of its own making in the mind of the gamester; the slowly quickening but ever quickening descent of appetite down which the miser is propelled; the agony and cleaving oppression of grief; the ghost-like hauntings of shame; the incubus of revenge; the life-distemper of ambition; these inward existences, and the visible and familiar occurrences of daily life in every town and village; the patient curiosity and contagious acclamations of the multitude in the streets of the city and within the walls of the theatre; a procession, or a rural dance; a hunting, or a horse-race; a flood, or a fire; rejoicing and ringing of bells for an unexpected gift of good fortune, or the coming of a foolish heir to his estate; these demonstrate incontestibly that the passions of men (I mean the soul of sensibility in the heart of man,) in all quarrels, in all contests, in all quests, in all delights, in all employments which are either sought by men or thrust upon them do immeasurably transcend their objects. The true sorrow of humanity consists in this: that the mind of man fails; but that the course and demands of action and life so rarely correspond with the dignity and intensity of human desires and hence, that which is slow to languish, is too easily turned aside and abused."

not

It is the truth told in this last sentence, on which Wordsworth's poetry in all its varied forms is an imaginative commentary.

This contrariety of the course of life to the dignity of human desires is constantly changing in the progress of the world, and therefore the poet's efforts must be adapted to the form the antagonist power chances to assume. While the wisdom of a great author is in many respects mated to all time, there will still be a correspondence between his spirit and the age and country in which Providence has placed him. This is an important consideration in estimating the structure of a poet's mind. We hazard little in saying that Wordsworth's mission has been to an

unimaginative age. In the same volume the character of the times is described in a passage, which reminds us of the statesmanly philosophy of Burke:

"Men have been pressing forward, for some time, in a path which has betrayed by its fruitfulness; furnishing them constant employment for picking up things about their feet, when thoughts were perishing in their minds. While mechanic arts, manufactures, agriculture, commerce, and all those products of knowledge which are confined to gross, definite, and tangible objects, have, with the aid of experimental philosophy, been every day putting on more brilliant colors; the splendor of imagination has been fading. Sensibility, which was formerly a generous nursling of rude nature, has been chased from its ancient range in the wide domain of patriotism and religion, with the weapons of derision by a shadow calling itself good sense: calculations of presumptuous expediency-groping its way among partial and temporary consequences have been substituted for the dictates of paramount and infallible conscience, the supreme embracer of consequences: lifeless and circumspect decencies have banished the graceful negligence and unsuspicious dignity of virtue."

But it may be asked whether, when poetry assumes to minister to this sorrow of humanity - the degeneracy of our desires to unworthy objects, it is not trespassing on the province of religion. O no! it is in meek attendance in the temple of faith. The highest poetry must be sacred, in the most comprehensive sense. It is in humble alliance for the rescue of exposed humanity. Poetry, for its own glory and the safety of its disciples, preserves at once its affinity and subordination to religion, and it is important, distinctly to appreciate this relation of poetry, to guard on the one hand against its fanatical rejection, and on the other, against its superstitious elevation.

"Faith," says Wordsworth, in the 'Supplement to the Preface,' "was given to man that his affections, detached from the treasures of time, might be inclined to settle upon those of eternity: — - the elevation of his nature, which this habit produces on earth, being to him a presumptive evidence of a future state of existence; and giving him a title to partake its holiness. The religious man values what he sees chiefly as an 'imperfect shadowing forth' of what he is incapable of seeing. The concerns of religion refer to indefinite objects, and are too weighty for the mind to support them without relieving itself by resting a great part of the burthen upon words and symbols. The commerce between Man and his Maker cannot be carried on but by a process where much is represented in little, and the Infinite Being accommodates himself to a finite ca

asm

evidence of experience. Now, this, rightly understood, not only gives no support to any such belief, but proves that the truth is in direct opposition to it. The history of all ages; tumults after tumults; wars, foreign or civil, with short or no breathing-spaces, from generation to generation; wars-why and wherefore! Yet with courage, with perseverance, with self sacrifice, with enthusi with cruelty driving forward the cruel man from its own terrible nakedness, and attracting the more benign by the accompa niment of some shadow which seems to sanctify it; the senseless weaving and interweaving of factions-vanishing and reviving and piercing each other like the northern lights; public commotions, and those in the bosom of the individual; the long calenture to which the lover is subject; the blast, like the blast of the desert, which sweeps perenially through a frightful solitude of its own making in the mind of the gamester; the slowly quickening but ever quickening descent of appetite down which the miser is propelled; the agony and cleaving oppression of grief; the ghost-like hauntings of shame; the incubus of revenge; the life-distemper these inward existences, and the visible and familiar occurrences of daily life in every town and village; the patient curiosity and contagious acclamations of the multitude in the streets of the city and within the walls of the theatre; a procession, or a rural dance; a hunting, or a horse-race; a

of ambition;

flood, or a fire;

rejoicing and ringing of bells for an unexpected gift of good for

tune, or the coming of a foolish heir to his estate;

- these demon

strate incontestibly that the passions of men (I mean the soul of sensibility in the heart of man,)-in all quarrels, in all contests, in all quests, in all delights, in all employments which are either sought by men or thrust upon them - do immeasurably transcend their objects. The true sorrow of humanity consists in this: — that the mind of man fails; but that the course and demands of action and life so rarely correspond with the dignity and intensity of human desires: and hence, that which is slow to languish, is too easily turned aside and abused."

not

It is the truth told in this last sentence, on which Wordsworth's poetry in all its varied forms is an imaginative commentary.

This contrariety of the course of life to the dignity of human desires is constantly changing in the progress of the world, and therefore the poet's efforts must be adapted to the form the antagonist power chances to assume. While the wisdom of a great author is in many respects mated to all time, there will still be a correspondence between his spirit and the age and country in which Providence has placed him. This is an important consideration in estimating the structure of a poet's mind. We hazard little in saying that Wordsworth's mission has been to an