an accurate notion of that cliff in particular, nor, as indeed Johnson's note on the passage points out, of the impressions naturally made on the mind of a person standing on the brink of a terrific height. But it is further to be observed, that the passage is not put into the mouth of a person on the spot, but of one who is essaying to make another, who is blind, believe that they are standing together on the summit of the cliff, when in reality they are at a distance from it. The description has therefore a dramatic propriety and a naturalness of its own, the sustaining of which, in its place in the drama, is of far more importance than the dressing it up as a recognisable picture of a given locality. Dover cliff, it must be confessed, has little enough to do with Scylla and Charybdis; but it would be as unreasonable to argue from Shakspeare that Dover cliff has altered, as to argue from Homer that Scylla and Charybdis have altered. Before we criticise a description, we ought to understand what the writer wished to delineate. A scene truthfully portrayed, in prose or in metre, has its merits; but the interests of a higher order of truth are consulted, when the features of the external world are made subservient to delineation of character. April, 1844. IN THE STEAM-BOAT OFF THE COAST OF CALABRIA. HANKS for a night of calm upon the sea ΤΗ Is yon a planet sinking in the west ? No! 'tis the sleepless fire of Stromboli Beaconing far off. And we might say, dear friend, Refulgent globes, and sheets of watery flame To measured cadences we cannot hear. Methinks the sea-nymphs with immortal shells That from the sea-halls vibrate through the waves, Two ways the sea is starry, and our wake, Rest we contented. Will you to your berth? Then lend me the capote you brought from Venice: To-night on deck I will outwatch the Bear, That fears to dip his outline in the main. April, 1844. PISA REVISITED. ISA, the storm-blasts of the Apennine PISA Had half congealed the Arno when I last To watch the progress of the bands of shade Whose nice recesses, as the Sun moves on, He searches through and through; from morn till eve Ripening the very stone to hues of gold; Then in unmitigated pomp goes down, And on the rich cathedral gates of bronze Yes! thou hast beauty, grandeur, truth; and they Are attributes akin to good supreme; And therefore shall this spectacle survive, These thy four marvels, in harmonious group, Upon the tablets of my brain, fair Pisa, Of Italy. I now revisit thee With joy unfeigned; nor will I, when we part, Pisa, May, 1844. |