ble lyrics. So that the most
rapt and imaginative of men, if artists, utilize the whole realm of
knowledge, and diffuse it, and perpetuate it in artistic forms. But real
poets are rare, even if there are many who glory in the jingle of
language and the structure of rhyme. Poetry, to live, must have a soul,
and it must combine rare things,--art, music, genius, original thought,
wisdom made still richer by learning, and, above all, a power of
appealing to inner sentiments, which all feel, yet are reluctant to
express. So choice are the gifts, so grand are the qualities, so varied
the attainments of truly great poets, that very few are born in a whole
generation and in nations that number twenty or forty millions of
people. They are the rarest of gifted men. Every nation can boast of its
illustrious lawyers, statesmen, physicians, and orators; but they can
point only to a few of their poets with pride. We can count on the
fingers of one of our hands all those worthy of poetic fame who now
live in this great country of intellectual and civilized men,--one for
every ten millions. How great the pre-eminence even of ordinary poets!
How very great the pre-eminence of those few whom all ages and
nations admire!

The critics assign to Dante a pre-eminence over most of those we call
immortal. Only two or three other poets in the whole realm of
literature, ancient or modern, dispute his throne. We compare him with
Homer and Shakspeare, and perhaps Goethe, alone. Civilization glories in
Virgil, Milton, Tasso, Racine, Pope, and Byron,--all immortal artists;
but it points to only four men concerning whose transcendent creative
power there is unanimity of judgment,--prodigies of genius, to whose
influence and fame we can assign no limits; stars of such surpassing
brilliancy that we can only gaze and wonder,--growing brighter and
brighter, too, with the progress of ages; so remarkable that no
barbarism will ever obscure their brightness, so original that all
imitation of them becomes impossible and absurd. So great is original
genius, directed by art and consecrated to lofty sentiments.

I have assumed the difficult task of presenting one of these great
lights. But I do not presume to analyze his great poem, or to point out
critically its excellencies. This would be beyond my powers, even if I
were an Italian. It takes a poet to reveal a poet. Nor is criticism
interesting to ordinary minds, even in the hands of masters. I should
make