Be That Blind Bard Who On The

The Poet Is The Man Made To Solve The Riddle Of The Universe Who Brings The Whole Soul Of Man Into Activity.

A Wild Rose Roofs The Ruined Shed, And That And Summer Well Agree.

The Principle Of The Gothic Architecture Is Infinity Made Imaginable. It Is No Doubt A Sublimer Effort Of Genius Than The Greek Style; But Then It Depends Much More On Execution For Its Effect.

The First Class Of Readers May Be Compared To An Hour-glass, Their Reading Being As The Sand; It Runs In And Runs Out, And Leaves Not A Vestige Behind. A Second Class Resembles A Sponge, Which Imbibes Everything, And Returns It In Nearly The Same State, Only A Little Dirtier. A Third Class Is Like A Jelly-bag, Which Allows All That Is Pure To Pass Away, And Retains Only The Refuse And Dregs. The Fourth Class May Be Compared To The Slave Of Golconda, Who, Casting Aside All That Is Worthless, Preserves Only The Pure Gems.

The Poet, Described In Ideal Perfection, Brings The Whole Soul Of Man Into Activity, With The Subordination Of Its Faculties To Each Other According To Their Relative Worth And Dignity. He Diffuses A Tone And Spirit Of Unity, That Blends, And (as It Were) Fuses , Each Into Each, By That Synthetic And Magical Power, To Which I Would Exclusively Appropriate The Name Of Imagination.