Very far from it, if indeed, there be any one circle of
thought distinctly and palpably marked out from amid the jarring and
tumultuous chaos of human intelligence, it is that evergreen and
radiant Paradise which the true poet knows, and knows alone, as the
limited realm of his authority- as the circumscribed Eden of his
dreams. But a definition is a thing of words- a conception of ideas.
And thus while we readily believe that Poesy, the term, it will be
troublesome, if not impossible to define- still, with its image
vividly existing in the world, we apprehend no difficulty in so
describing Poesy, the Sentiment, as to imbue even the most obtuse
intellect with a comprehension of it sufficiently distinct for all the
purposes of practical analysis.
To look upwards from any existence, material or immaterial to its
design, is, perhaps, the most direct, and the most unerring method
of attaining a just notion of the nature of the existence itself.
Nor is the principle at fault when we turn our eyes from Nature even
to Natures God. We find certain faculties, implanted within us, and
arrive at a more plausible conception of the character and
attributes of those faculties, by considering, with what finite
judgment we possess, the intention of the Deity in so implanting
them within us, than by any actual investigation of their powers, or
any speculative deductions from their visible and material effects.
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