San Andreas independent., 1858-07-24
The Empire of Poetry.
BY FoNTENELLE.

This empire is very large and popu-
lous country. 1t is divided, like some of
the countries on the continent, into the
higher and lower regions. The upper re-
gion is inhabited by grave, melancholy
and sullen people, who, like other noun
taineers, speak language very different
from that of the inhabitants of the valleys.
The trees in this part of the country are
very tall, having their tops among the
clouds. Their horses are superior to those
of Barbary, being feeter than the winds.
Their women are so beautiful as to eclipse
the star of day.
The great city which you see in the
maps, beyond the lofty mountains, is the
capital of this province, and is called Epic.
1t is built on sandy and ungrateful soil,
which few take the trouble to cultivate
The length of the city is many days
journey, and it is otherwise of tiresome
extent. On leaving its gate, we always
meet with men who are killing one anoth-
er; whereas, when we pass through Ro-
nance, which forms the suburbs of Epic,
and which is much larger than the city
itself, we meet with groups of happy peo-
pie, who are fastening to the shrine of
Hymen. The Mountains of Tragedy are
also in theprovince of Upper Poetry. They
are very steep, with dangerous precipices:
and, In consequence, many of its people
build their habitations at the bottom of
the hills, and imagine themselves high
enough. There have been found on these
mountains some very beautiful ruins of
ancient cities; and, from time to time, the
materials are carried lower down to build
new cities; for they now never build near
ly so high as they seem to have done in
former times. The Lower Poetry is very
similar to the swamps of Holland. Bur
lesque is the capital, which is situated
amidst stagnant pools. Princes speak
there as if they had sprung from the dung
hill, and all the inhabitants are buffoons
from their birth.
Comedy is city which is built on
pleasant spot, but it is too near to bur-
lesque, and its trade with this place has
much degraded the manners of its citizens
| beg that you will notice, on the map,
those vast solitudes which lie between
High and Low Poetry They are called
the deserts of Common Sense There is
not single city in the whole of this ex-
tensive country, and only few cottages
scattered at distance from one another
The interior of the country is beautiful
and fertile, but you need not wonder that
there are SO few who choose to reside in
it; for the entrance is very rugged on all
sides; the roads are narrow and difficult
and there are seldom any guides to be
found, who are capable of conducting
strangers.
Besides, this country borders on a PROV
lnce where every person prefers to re-
main, because it appears to be very agree
able, and saves the trouble of penetrating
into the Deserts of Common Sense. 1t is
the Province of False Thoughts. Here
we always tread on flowers, thing
seems enchanting But its greatest in
convenience is, that the ground is not
solid; the foot is always sinking in the
mire, however careful one may be. Elegy
is the capital. Here the people do moth
ing but complain; but it is said that they
find pleasure in their complaints. The
city is surrounded with woods and rocks,
where the inhabitant walks alone, making
them the confdants of his secrets; of
the discovery of which he is so much
afraid, that he often conjures those woods
and rocks never to betray them.
The Empire of Poetry is watered by
two rivers. One is the River Rhyme,
which has its source at the foot of the
Mountains of Reveric The tops of some
OF these mountains are so elevated that
they pierce the clouds. Those are called
the Points of Sublime Thought. Many
climb there by extraordinary efforts; but
almost the whole tumble down again, and
excite, by their fall, the ridicule of those
who admired them at first without know
ing why. There are large platforms, al
most at the bottom of these mountains,
which are called the Terraces of Low
thoughts There are always great
number OF people walking upon them. At
the end OF these terraces are the Caverns
OF Deep Reverie. Those who descend
into them do SO insensibly; being so much
enwrapt In their meditation, that they en-
,1, ter the caverns before they are aware.
These caverns are perfect labyrinths, and
the difficulty of getting out again could
scarcely be believed by those who have
not been there. Above the terraces we
sometimes meet with men walking in easy
paths, which are termed the Paths of
Natural Thoughts; and these gentlemen
rldlcule, equally, those who try to scale
the Points of Sublime Thoughts, as well
as those who grovel on the terraces below.
They would be in the right, if they could
keep undeviatingly in the Paths of Nat
ural Thoughts; but they fall almost in
stantly into snare, by entering into a
splendid palace, which is at very little
distance 1t is the Palace of Badinage.
Scarcely have they entered. when, in place
of the natural thoughts which they for
merly had, they dwell upon such only as
are mean and vulgar. Those, however,
who never abandon the Paths OF Natural
Thoughts, are the most rational OF all
They aspire no higher than they ought,
and their thoughts are never at variance