oubtedly, when we thus state it, a proposition
sufficiently absurd--yet we are indebted for it to the Quarterly
Reviews. Surely there can be nothing in mere _size, _abstractly
considered--there can be nothing in mere _bulk, so _far as a volume
is concerned, which has so continuously elicited admiration from these
saturnine pamphlets! A mountain, to be sure, by the mere sentiment of
physical magnitude which it conveys, _does _impress us with a sense
of the sublime--but no man is impressed after _this _fashion by the
material grandeur of even "The Columbiad." Even the Quarterlies have
not instructed us to be so impressed by it. As _yet, _they have not
_insisted _on our estimating "Lamar" tine by the cubic foot, or Pollock
by the pound--but what else are we to _infer _from their continual
plating about "sustained effort"? If, by "sustained effort," any little
gentleman has accomplished an epic, let us frankly commend him for the
effort--if this indeed be a thing conk mendable--but let us forbear
praising the epic on the effort's account. It is to be hoped that common
sense, in the time to come, will prefer deciding upon a work of Art
rather by the impression it makes--by the effect it produces--than by
the time it took to impress the effect, or by the amount of "sustained
effort" which had been found necessary in effecting the impression. The
fact is, that perseverance is one thing and genius quite another--nor
can all the Quarterlies in Christendom confound them. By and by, this
proposition, with many which I have been just urging, will be received
as self-evident. In the meantime, by being generally condemned as
falsities, they will not be essentially damaged as truths.

On the other hand, it is clear that a poem may be improperly brief.
Undue brevity degenerates into mere epigrammatism. A very short poem,
while now and then producing a brilliant or vivid, never produces a
profound or enduring effect. There must be the steady pressing down
of the stamp upon the wax. De Beranger has wrought innumerable
things, pungent and spirit-stirring, but in general they have been too
imponderous to stamp themselves deeply into the public attention, and
thus, as so many feathers of fancy, have been blown aloft only to be
whistled down the wind.

A remarkable instance of the effect of undue brevity in depressing
a poem, in keeping it out of the popular view, is afforded by the
following exquisite little Serenade--

I arise from