ithout any
laborious exercise of the understanding. This pleasure, may, in general,
be analyzed into three parts--that which we receive from the excitement
of Passion or emotion--that which is derived from the play of
Imagination, or the easy exercise of Reason--and that which depends on
the character and qualities of the Diction. The two first are the vital
and primary springs of poetical delight, and can scarcely require
explanation to any one. The last has been alternately overrated and
undervalued by the professors of the poetical art, and is in such low
estimation with the author now before us and his associates, that it is
necessary to say a few words in explanation of it.

One great beauty of diction exists only for those who have some degree
of scholarship or critical skill. This is what depends on the exquisite
_propriety_ of the words employed, and the delicacy with which they are
adapted to the meaning which is to be expressed. Many of the finest
passages in Virgil and Pope derive their principal charm from the fine
propriety of their diction. Another source of beauty, which extends
only to the more instructed class of readers, is that which consists in
the judicious or happy application of expressions which have been
sanctified by the use of famous writers, or which bear the stamp of a
simple or venerable antiquity. There are other beauties of diction,
however, which are perceptible by all--the beauties of sweet sound and
pleasant associations. The melody of words and verses is indifferent to
no reader of poetry; but the chief recommendation of poetical language
is certainly derived from those general associations, which give it a
character of dignity or elegance, sublimity or tenderness. Every one
knows that there are low and mean expressions, as well as lofty and
grave ones; and that some words bear the impression of coarseness and
vulgarity, as clearly as others do of refinement and affection. We do
not mean, of course, to say anything in defence of the hackneyed
common-places of ordinary versemen. Whatever might have been the
original character of these unlucky phrases, they are now associated
with nothing but ideas of schoolboy imbecility and vulgar affectation.
But what we do maintain is, that much of the most popular poetry in the
world owes its celebrity chiefly to the beauty of its diction; and that
no poetry can be long or generally acceptable, the language of which is
coarse, inelegant, or infanti