The daily press. (Cincinnati [Ohio) 1859-1859, 1859-02-25

claims is nothing 10 that which he is forced to
Undergo. He is court Of chanoery, with
perpetually shifting issue, an evor-incroasing
crowd Of suitOrs, and a clamorous demand for
an impossible decree. We will not hold our
selves responsible, even in respect to judgment;
we intend 70 show no favor, and they who send
us their verses do so at their peril.
Nine hundred and ninety mine out of every
thousand of the verses nowadays produced,
are the result Of intellectual emptiness. Peo-
ple want TO see themselves in print, and hav-
ing nothing to say Of their own, they Jingle
and initiate. A sentiment that is worth put
ting into rhymes will be attractive without the
metre, and metre which does not embody an
idea worthy of expression in the plainest OF
language, is Of no imaginable value. Thou
sands Of young persons who never originated
a useful thought or q striking form Of express
sion, or even attained to the ability, in case
they had either, to put it upon paper in gram
matical prose, get smitten with the notion that
they are in a fair way to electrify the world in
the line of poetry; and having received some
injrdicious encouragement from those who
look upon a rhyme as miracle, feel as If they
had a right to demand and have place in the
corners of newspapers, which to deny them, is
equally wrong TO themselves and an injury
to the public. We disagree with them totally
and entirely.
To us, literature appears to be useful only as
o means. We attach no value to it as an end.
When it is employed as a vehicle of truth, we
honor it; otherwise, not a particle. This,
moreover, is certain: literature, when produced
as an end, it should be of impeachable beauty
and correctness Things designed as super6u-
tiles should bear unmistakable testimony to
their own elegance and perfection. We want
no dirty embroidery, imitation turquoises, or
decreoid statuary. Let us have that upon
which the mind may repose with pleasure, or
nothing. The decline of poetry, as it is called,
everywhere, is probably attributable to the fact
that its mission is mistaken. Shakespeare was
a true poet-that is to say, moralist--there-
fore his works survive. Since Dryden, the poet
has ceased to be the truest philosopher Of his
day; and to construct, rather than to create
has become the occupation OF the maker o
verses. The mantles of the old prophets liz
buried with their bones.
If the great majority of those who contrib
ute poetry to the newspapers would, instead
of transmitting them to the able editor for in
sertion in, and so forth, lay their odes anC
sonnets carefully aside in their portfolios, ant
allow them there to remain for three years
they would be ready, on u careful perusal o
the same, at the end of that time, to fall OF
their knees and thank an overruling provideno,
for its kindness in permitting them so to dc
Now this is the better way. We hate to say
even by implication, Sir, or Madam,-as tn
case may be-this is trash it contains no sen
timent, or what is worse, false one ; it is poo
in its language, or ungrammatical in its con
struotion it is namby -pamby, or maudlin, or
mere senseless Jingle, or piece of ambition
nonsensel We hate to say this, yet we ar
doomed to do so, mentally, myriads of times
And, to ourselves, we shall be very free in thes
conversations. We say this as a fair warning
We do not object to the verses, but shall insis
upon the right to treat them as we please.