anies him through the whole course
of his studies, converses with general nature, with affections akin to
those, which, through labour and length of time, the Man of science has
raised up in himself, by conversing with those particular parts of
nature which are the objects of his studies. The knowledge both of the
Poet and the Man of science is pleasure; but the knowledge of the one
cleaves to us as a necessary part of our existence, our natural and
unalienable inheritance; the other is a personal and individual
acquisition, slow to come to us, and by no habitual and direct sympathy
connecting us with our fellow-beings. The Man of science seeks truth as
a remote and unknown benefactor; he cherishes and loves it in his
solitude: the Poet, singing a song in which all human beings join with
him, rejoices in the presence of truth as our visible friend and hourly
companion. Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is
the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.
Emphatically may it be said of the Poet, as Shakspeare hath said of man,
'that he looks before and after.' He is the rock of defence for human
nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying every where with him
relationship and love. In spite of difference of soil and climate, of
language and manners, of laws and customs: in spite of things silently
gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed; the Poet binds
together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as
it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time. The objects of the
Poet's thoughts are every where; though the eyes and senses of man are,
it is true, his favourite guides, yet he will follow wheresoever he can
find an atmosphere of sensation in which to move his wings. Poetry is
the first and last of all knowledge--it is as immortal as the heart of
man. If the labours of Men of science should ever create any material
revolution, direct or indirect, in our condition, and in the impressions
which we habitually receive, the Poet will sleep then no more than at
present; he will be ready to follow the steps of the Man of science, not
only in those general indirect effects, but he will be at his side,
carrying sensation into the midst of the objects of the science itself.
The remotest discoveries of the Chemist, the Botanist, or Mineralogist,
will be as proper objects of the Poet's art as any upon which it can be
employed, if the time should ever com