or story, and ornament it with characters and circumstances; can create an imaginary land, and people it with imaginary beings; describe what he never saw, or add fancied embellishments to what he had seen.

The first and highest exercise of invention is in the choice and arrangement of the subject, and especially when that subject happens to be altogether fictitious. Yet judgment must here come in aid of fancy, and both must be united to form a perfect poet. There may be fancy without judgment; and in that case men write pretty things, nay sometimes are brilliant; but they never accomplish what is truly great. It is impossible to be poetical without the subject admits of it; unless that is in itself interesting, all the pomp and ornaments of poetry and language will be lavished on it in vain. It would be making a statue of snow, and bestowing on it the art and genius and labour of a Phidias. If on the contrary the subject is well conceived, appropriate beauties will seem naturally to arise out of it, and the execution will be easy in proportion.

The man who attempted to turn the whole Bible into verse did not consider that the whole

of the Bible is not poetical. Milton, on the contrary, seems to have chosen the only scriptural subject that afforded scope for imagination. The fall of our first parents was poetical in itself, and from an obscure passage in the Epistle of St. Jude, the vigorous fancy of Milton has formed the sublime episode of a war in heaven.

Trifling subjects, even in description, afford but little interest. A cowslip, a rose, or a snowdrop are beautiful objects; but the man who should write a long poem on any of them would seem to be trifling with his reader. I question, from this defect, whether "the Loves of the Plants" will live, though enriched with all the beauties of language, and with many new and brilliant thoughts. It was happily ridiculed in a burlesque poem, entitled "the Loves of the Triangles." I rejoice in the "Task" that produced such an effort from Mr. Cowper's genius; without its having been imposed he perhaps would not have written; but as it is, it must be rather considered as a farrago or collection of fine sentiments and episodes, than as a regular poem. Those subjects which excite most general interest will afford most pleasure,

not only to the reader, but to the author himself; and be most prolific in excellencies and beauties. "Sentiments and descriptions (says Dr. Beattie) may be regarded as the pilasters, carvings, gildings, and other decorations of the poetical fabric; but human actions are the columns and rafters that give it stability and elevation."

Poetry has been called an imitative art, and so it may be considered in some degree. But though it is an imitation of nature, it must not be, like a Flemish painting, an imitation of nature in every particular. It should be (putting burlesque poetry out of the question for the present) an imitation of nature dignified and exalted, as far as the human imagination is capable of rising.

A fine poem may again be compared to a fine picture. It is to depict nature and hold her up to view; but there is no necessity to exhibit every thing in nature, or combine such actions as might possibly have existed together, though poetically inconsistent with each other. It is by not going beyond the bounds of probability, that in the intervals of some great event, a pert dialogue might take place between some

of the lacquies of the palace, but no writer would introduce this into an epic poem.

What I observed in a former letter on the subject of amplification, is more strictly applicable to poetry than to any other kind of composition. The soul of poetry is detail, for it must ever be considered as a picture. The fairest mark indeed of a vigorous imagination is the power of displaying all the nice and discriminating features of the human character and passions. It shews penetration to observe them, fancy in being able to depict them, and judgment in selecting and arranging them. Shakspeare surpasses all mankind in this excellence; and in Milton, though his subject may seem unfavourable to such a display, the most enchanting passages are of this kind. How minute, and yet how interesting is the following scene, where Adam finds Eve asleep with unusual discomposure in her looks after her alarming dream

"Now morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime

Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, "When Adam wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep "Was airy light from pure digestion bred,

"And temperate vapours bland, which th' only sound

"Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,

Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill matin song "Of birds on every bough; so much the more "His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve "With tresses discompos'd, and glowing cheek "As through unquiet rest: he on his side Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial love Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld "Beauty, which whether waking or asleep, "Shot forth peculiar graces: then with voice "Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, "Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus: awake "My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, "Heav'n's last best gift, my ever new delight, "Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field "Calls us; we lose the prime to mark how spring "Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, "What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed; "How nature paints her colours, how the bee "Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet. "Such whisp'ring wak'd her, but with startled eye "On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake.

For the thoughts and ornamental part, poetry draws her resources from every quarter. In this view, if two men are equally gifted with the powers of fancy, he that knows most will be the best poet. The great reading of Milton serves constantly to enrich his poem, and keep