e subject of the
rules delivered is for two verses--CRITICISM PROPER, that is to say, the
faculty of judging in the mind of the critic, who is not necessarily a
poet, and whose function in the world is the judgment of the work produced
and complete, and exposed for free censure.

"First fathom nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same."

This general reference to the fountain-head of law and of power, is spoken
to the critic--the writer of critiques--the public censurer--the man of
judgment.

For the next four lines, the creative power, and the presiding criticism
in the mind of the poet, and the judicial criticism in the mind of the
official critic, are all three in hand together.

"Unerring NATURE, still divinely bright,
One clear, unchanged, and universal light;
Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of art."

Warburton has remarked, that the two last verses run parallel to one
another, inasmuch as "source" respects "life," the ever-welling--"end"
reflects "force," for the force of any thing arises from its being
directed to its end--and "test" looks back to "beauty," for every thing
acquires beauty by its being reduced to its true standard. Very well said.

But in what sense is nature the "end" of art? Warburton explains the word,
by "the design of poetry being to convey knowledge of nature in the most
agreeable manner." Might not one think that nature is this "end" rather,
inasmuch as art aims at reaching nature in our bosoms? In this
acceptation, "end" and "force" would precisely belong to one another.

In the mean time, "life" and "source" distinctly concern the creative
power in the soul of the poet; art's "end" must be known, and fixedly
looked at, as the lodestar by the mariner, by presiding criticism in the
same soul; and the "test" of art must evidently be applied by the critic
discharging his peculiar functions; whilst "unerring nature," imaged as
the sun, enlightens, of course, both poet and critic.

And now the critic, who was at the outset of the strain--six verses
ago--alone in contemplation, is dismissed for good or for ill. The poet is
on Pegasus's back; the lashing out of a heel kicks the unfortunate devil
to the devil; and away we go.

For one verse, the creative power, and the presiding criticism in the mind
of the poet, are confounded together under the freshly suggested
name--ART.

"Art from