Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1839-03-15

both and especially Collins, for his / nd.
ness. left them TO themselves. She retired
10 think. 10 remember Arthur, TO shpddcr
at The image Of the lost vessel. To pray.
and then TO sleep. Ir the mean time. Col
Inns made more tea for himself. Walsiny.
ham having had enough. aud drank i: nv
bowlsful, without milk, and swee,ened with
honey.
CHAPTER 81.
THAT said Walsingham to Collins, was
n striking event Of which we have been
Witnesses at the church. Bu, ] should
like 10 have bsetved. unseen, the demean-
our Of The people when they reached tho
burning ed'ice, as ] suppose a crowd tf
them soon did. There ia mach TO attract
and awaken one in the thought of a living
world startled by the confagra,,on of a
ne'ghbouring world of graves and ghosts.
But 1t ought TO be painted an both sides.
mean both from The pom, of vie of the
actual beings regarding This convulsion in
The realm OF The past. aud from that of he
ruin and its grave impersona'ed and spirit.
nalzed, and brought face 10 face with bod
lily morials. One might round the whole
into n little Grecian tragedy. the action
consisting OF The Efforts of the men to save
the buildings, and their lamentations over
memorials of their ancestors. and the Cho-
rus being n band Of spectres. with the grey
old lpunGer OF the church, clothed in his
pail of lead and years. leading the grisly
troop. and walling and admonistIiDg through
The tempes'uous and fiery air
why answered Collins. do any thing
of the kind? 1t might be worth while to
know what really happened. But what VIC
should gain by'aking he mere name of the
real event and oppending a 6ction to it, I
do not see. When | am net in a verv Zero.
cious humonr | do not m'nd seeing a sol.
der. for | know what he and his dress are,
and mean. But some lord or lnendraper
coxcomb, in the masquerade dress Of a
soldier, is a thing to be drlfled, as soon az
possible. dnwnt the great sewer of perdltion.
J The uniform, on such shoulders, is but n
red rag thrown into the kennel: and the
blpea is but the heshy efigy of a man n
T good deal more offensive than a wax one at
a puppet-show. Now so bold II 10 be
$ with your supposed poem. BY all means
r give us as much truth as possible, even
though the dose is ever so bitter. But lies,
, whether IN verse or prose. are an abomina-
ton under the sun, and above it too, if such
pests are known there. which for the sake
Of the super.solars, ! hope is not the case.
Truth. man truth is the only true poetry,
if,he business Of poetry is 10 move the feel.
lngs, which, for ought I see, might as well
be left unmoved. But bread and meat,
which we do want daily, are facts. Am
brosla is doubtless n fact too-for the gods.
But for me. a man. it is n fiction. Bread
and truth are all man wants: and q loaf is
only an eatab'e lump Of truth fitted for the
body, as truth is the invisible, but no less
substantial, bread ofihe spirit. Tea, too.
is truth in its way. and very good for a
thirsty throat. Talk TO me of nectar bv
the hour. but my mouth would still be dry,
and | should wish you drinking it at Olym.
pus, or any where away from me.
'Wha is truth ? said jesling Plate,
J and would not wait for an answer: But
stand in his shoes, and wait instead of
him
Truth is every thing that is. Every
thing Is TRUTH; and every nothing is a lie.
Destiny for ever spins thlngs-realilies.
But man is the only beast ! know Of that
spins noIhings-fcIlons- poems. SO he
tres 10 swlndle destiny and his own fellow
beasts. But destiny spins on Unswindled,
and leaves him 10 die like a starved spider
IN own cobweb. Honesty is The only true
religion: all else is mere superstition,
more or less %poetic-that is. more or less
false.
"A compendious creed. and that sounds
as it it would have saved Aristotle, Quintil-
ian, Strada, and the Schlcgels a good deal
of trouble. But look closer. All that |,
, too, wan, is Truth, but Truth made ln,ell.
glble and e~fftc'ual for man. Ia order to
! thus, what is essential and characteristic in
f an image or feeling must be separated from
what is accidental or futiIe-I mean, from
what must seem so to us-for doubtless,
: nothing really Is so,-must be divided from
, the endless, u~nmanageab'e All, which
; would only bewllder us. That is, it must
be marked out as o distinct Whole by itself,
with ITS own beginning, progress, and con.
cluslon. Now. # tins be rightly done, we
shall have the essential. Thought filling
its own circle, excluding all that is extra
f neous to itself, and taking in and embody-
ing without whatever Is necessary to lts
own completeness and evidence. All this,
, however, is quite as true of history, or
theory, or a speech, as Of n poem. But
herein Is the difference, that The poem IL
no, meant to convey knowlede or produce
: conviction, but TO exci'e a state of feeling
at once lively ard harmonious. That the
feelings may be lively, The poem must have
energy, disllnctness, glow; that they NAV
be harmonious, 1t must have consistency
and completeness. and must lead TO The
apprehension of a peaceful order supreme
over all confusion. But it may have all
these requisites, and therefore be a good
poem, aud yet be far from n literal repre-
seniatlon OF The fact, even thought, or EN-.
> blem, which SUPPLIES the preleXt for il. II
you rightly weigh all these conditions of a
poems existence, you will see. ! think, that
IL nanu md nCnn nnnsI alInlt f1ua ~ a.az