LIVERPOOL: EDWARD HOWELL, CHURCH STREET. LONDON: WHITTAKER & CO., AVE-MARIA LANE. 1853. 270. c. 388. THE POETRY OF WORDSWORTH. I. It is obvious that, in estimating the merits of any poet, much difficulty would be removed, and a more satisfactory conclusion reached, if we first ascertained, somewhat distinctly, the nature and tendency of true poetry. But this method will be found especially convenient, and is indeed necessary, for the due consideration of one whose peculiar claim to distinction is founded upon the novelty of his style, both of manner and sentiment;—for we shall thus be enabled to judge, in how far that which is original in our author is conformable to the legitimate means and objects of his art. The writings of Wordsworth form so remarkable a feature in the literature of our times; were received on their first publication with so much unmerited ridicule; and have gradually advanced, through the reluctant consent of some, and the dawning admiration of others, to influence the minds of so large a community of admirers,—that it may be worth while to inquire, whether they have at length received their proper homage, or whether, by the exercise of great native powers in a false direction, and under the guidance of an erroneous judgment, their author has extorted an undue preference. We will own, at the outset, to a persuasion that the latter is nearer to the truth. Fully appreciating, as we do, the taste and genius which have given expression to so many noble sentiments, in language so chaste and felicitous, and by virtue of which the sonnets of Wordsworth will ever be valued as apples of gold in frames of silver,-we believe his higher efforts to have failed, from the defectiveness of his poetic theory; and that his works generally are characterised by the admixture of certain peculiar beauties (such as simplicity, purity of style, and the frequent choice of natural and unostentatious themes) with certain serious blemishes, pervading the whole system of his poetry, and too often leading him, by an ambitious desire of working some great moral effects, vaguely intimated rather than defined, to overstep the legitimate boundaries of his art. It should never be forgotten that poetry is one of the Fine Arts, and has no just pretensions to the exercise of any influence which the sister Arts do not enjoy; that is, to the exercise of any influence different in kind, however superior may be its degree. The moralist, it is true, and even the man of science, have each borrowed, for the more attractive display of his own doctrines, those extrinsic charms in which poetry, itself so subtile, is most aptly and becomingly embodied; and, to those casual admirers of poetry with whom the measured cadence and recurring rhyme are its only certain characteristics, it may appear that no science or subject whatever is of necessity excluded as a theme. To such persons it matters little whether they be led through the Paradise of Milton, or the Botanic Garden of Darwin; excepting that they would sooner weary of the inimitable beauties of the one, transplanted from the fields of nature, but cultured with an exquisite and harmonising taste, than of the labelled, formal, and unfragrant sections -1 |