to be inherent in her own
forms; yet surely she in herself is great, and there is a regality
belonging of divine right to such a monarch as Mont Blanc.

Those are the very regions of sublimity, and if brought into immediate
comparison with them in their immense magnitude, the most magnificent
scenery of our own country would no doubt seem to lose its character of
greatness. But such is not the process of the imagination in her
intercourse with Nature. To her sufficient for the day is the good
thereof; and on each new glorious sight being shown to her eyes, she
employs her God-given power to magnify or irradiate what she beholds,
without diminishing or obscuring what she remembers. Thus, to her all
things in nature hold their own due place, and retain for ever their own
due impressions, aggrandised and beautified by mutual reaction in those
visionary worlds, which by a thought she can create, and which as they
arise are all shadowy representations of realities--new compositions in
which the image of the earth we tread is reflected fairer or greater
than any realities, but not therefore less, but more true to the spirit
of nature. It is thus that Poets and Painters at once obey and control
their own inspirations. They visit all the regions of the earth, but to
love, admire, and adore; and the greatest of them all, native to our
soil, from their travel or sojourn in foreign lands, have always brought
home a clearer insight into the character of the scenery of their own, a
profounder affection for it all, and a higher power of imaging its
attributes in colours or in words. In our poetry, more than in any
other, nature sees herself reflected in a magic mirror; and though many
a various show passes processionally along its lustre, displaying the
scenery of "lands and seas, whatever clime the sun's bright circle
warms," among them all there are none more delightful or elevating to
behold, than those which genius, inspired by love, has framed of the
imagery, which in all her pomp and prodigality heaven has been pleased
to shower, through all seasons, on our own beautiful island. It is not
for us to say whether our native Painters, or the "old masters," have
shown the greatest genius in landscape; but if the palm must be yielded
to them whose works have been consecrated by a reverence, as often,
perhaps, superstitious as religious, we do not fear to say that their
superiority is not to be attributed in any degree to the scenery o