MANAGER.

A reproach such as that does not hurt me at all; Who would turn out his work as a true workman

should,

Must stick to the tools that are fittest of all*

For his job. Yours, remember, is splitting soft wood.+

And for whom are you labouring? only just think.

This one comes, by ennui to the theatre driven; And that one, o'erloaded with meat and with drink, Fresh from table; and what is more horrible even, Full many a one comes from reading the papers. As if to a masque in confusion they press; Curiosity wings every step of the gapers,

The ladies themselves, all the sheen of their dress Throw into the bargain as part of the play, And act in our company all without pay.

What dream is it, round your Parnassus that glows, What gladdens your heart when the house overflows? The half is indifferent-debauched is the rest.

* "To endeavour to work on the vulgar with fine sense, is like attempting to saw blocks with a razor.”—POPE.

† Alluding to the splitting of wood for firewood, an important branch of the every-day business of life in Germany.

This man, when the theatre's o'er, is intent

On a rubber; that thinks of a rapturous night

On the breast of a girl; why, unwise ones, torment

The sweet muses, such audience as this to delight? To give more, and still more, be your efforts addressed;

Do this, and your object you never can miss. With mankind only seek to bewilder each brain; To content them is not half so easy as this. Well! what ails you now-is it pleasure or pain?

РОЕТ.

Away, a more flexible minister find;

Shall the poet indeed, your behest to obey, The loftiest right nature grants to mankind

The right of humanity, squander away?* How avails he all hearts to his accents to bind ? O'er all elements whence is his conquering sway

"We owe the great writers of the golden age of our literature, to that fervid awakening of the public mind, which shook to dust the oldest and most oppressive form of the Christian religion. We owe Milton to the progress and development of the same spirit. The sacred Milton was, let it ever be remembered, a republican, and a bold inquirer into morals and religion. The great writers of our own age are, we have reason to suppose, the companions and forerunners of some

Is it not that his spirit, in loving accord,
Finds in every breast an harmonious chord,*

And clasps all the world to his bosom entwined? From the spindle when Nature her thread never ending,

Winds off with a hand that hath waited to none; When the crowd of all Beings discordantly blending, Jangling harsh, into vexed intertanglement run ;†

unimagined change in our social condition, or the opinions which cement it. The cloud of mind is discharging its collected lightning, and the equilibrium between institutious and opinions is now restoring, or about to be restored."-SHELLEY.

* "Poetical abstractions are beautiful and new, not because the portions of which they are composed have no previous existence in the mind of man or in nature, but because the whole produced by their combination has some intelligible and beautiful analogy with those sources of emotion and thought, and with the contemporary condition of them.”—SHElley.

66 Therefore, because the acts and events of true history have not that magnitude which satisfies the mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more heroical. Because true history propoundeth the sacrifices and issues of actions, not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns them more just in retribution, and more according to revealed providence. Because true history representeth actions and events more ordinary and less interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them with more rareness, and more unexpected and alternative variations; so it appeareth that poetry serveth and conferreth to magnanimity, morality and delectation; and

Who can marshal the ranks, streaming wild in disunion,

And the life of a rhythmical progress inspire? Who can summon the Lone to the general communion,

Till exquisite symphony thrills through the choir ? Who passion invests with the hurricane's wing, And steeps earnest minds in the sunset's mild glow?

Who all the most delicate blossoms of spring,

O'er the path of the loved one rejoices to throw ? Who from the green chaplet of meaningless leaves, For desert of all natures a coronet weaves?

Who Olympus assures? who with gods can unite ?*. 'Tis the Poet, revealing man's soul in its might.†

therefore it was ever thought to have some participation of divineness, because it does raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind; whereas reason does buckle and bow the mind to the nature of things."-LORD BACON.

* Can raise his mind to a loftiness of tone, such as belongs to gods.

+ So, when remote futurity is brought,
Before the keen inquiry of his thought,
A terrible sagacity informs

The poet's heart,-he looks for distant storms:

HUMOURIST.

These magnificent powers, I prithee, then use,
And onwards your business of poetry carry,
Just as an affair of the heart one pursues;

By chance you first meet, you are smitten, you tarry;

By and by are insensibly caught in the snare.

Lovers' bliss, lovers' quarrels, your spirit entrance; You are charmed, you are pained, and ere you are aware, The story grows into a little romance,

He hears the thunder, ere the tempest lowers;
And, armed with strength surpassing human powers,
Seizes events as yet unknown to man,

And darts his soul into the dawning plan.

Hence, in a Roman mouth, the graceful name

Of Prophet and of Poet was the same;

Hence British poets, too, the priesthood shared,
And every hallowed Druid was a bard."

Cowper.

"Poets are the Hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration, the mirrors of the gigantic shadows, which futurity casts upon the present, the words which express what they understand not, the trumpets which sing to battle, and feel not what they inspire, the influence which is moved not, but moves. Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world."

SHELLEY.