_. They perhaps had not the
thing. Their minds appear to have been too exact, too retentive, too
minute and subtle, too sensible to the external differences of things, too
passive under their impressions, to admit of those bold and rapid
combinations, those lofty flights of fancy, which, glancing from heaven to
earth, unite the most opposite extremes, and draw the happiest
illustrations from things the most remote. Their ideas were kept too
confined and distinct by the material form or vehicle in which they were
conveyed, to unite cordially together, or be melted down in the
imagination. Their metaphors are taken from things of the same class, not
from things of different classes; the general analogy, not the individual
feeling, directs them in their choice. Hence, as Dr. Johnson observed,
their similes are either repetitions of the same idea, or so obvious and
general as not to lend any additional force to it; as when a huntress is
compared to Diana, or a warrior rushing into battle to a lion rushing on
his prey. Their _forte_ was exquisite art and perfect imitation. Witness
their statues and other things of the same kind. But they had not that
high and enthusiastic fancy which some of our own writers have shewn. For
the proof of this, let any one compare Milton and Shakspeare with Homer
and Sophocles, or Burke with Cicero.

It may be asked whether Burke was a poet. He was so only in the general
vividness of his fancy, and in richness of invention. There may be
poetical passages in his works, but I certainly think that his writings in
general are quite distinct from poetry; and that for the reason before
given, namely, that the subject-matter of them is not poetical. The finest
part of them are illustrations or personifications of dry abstract
ideas;[135] and the union between the idea and the illustration is not of
that perfect and pleasing kind as to constitute poetry, or indeed to be
admissible, but for the effect intended to be produced by it; that is, by
every means in our power to give animation and attraction to subjects in
themselves barren of ornament, but which at the same time are pregnant
with the most important consequences, and in which the understanding and
the passions are equally interested.

I have heard it remarked by a person, to whose opinion I would sooner
submit than to a general council of critics, that the sound of Burke's
prose is not musical; that it wants cadence; and that instead of being s