y idleness with poet's
pastimes.' We are swallowed up in schemes for gain, and engrossed with
contrivances for bodily enjoyments, as if this particle of dust were
immortal,--as if the soul needed no aliment, and the mind no raiment. We
glory in the extent of our territory, in our rapidly increasing
population, in our agricultural privileges, and our commercial
advantages.... We boast of the increase and extent of our physical
strength, the sound of populous cities, breaking the silence and
solitude of our Western territories,--plantations conquered from the
forest, and gardens springing up in the wilderness. Yet the true glory
of a nation consists not in the extent of its territory, the pomp of its
forests, the majesty of its rivers, the height of its mountains and the
beauty of its sky; but in the extent of its mental power,--the majesty
of its intellect,--the height and depth and purity of its moral
nature.... True greatness is the greatness of the mind;--the true glory
of a nation is moral and intellectual preeminence."{25}

"Not he alone," the poet boldly goes on, "does service to the State,
whose wisdom guides her councils at home, nor he whose voice asserts her
dignity abroad. A thousand little rills, springing up in the retired
walks of life, go to swell the rushing tide of national glory and
prosperity; and whoever in the solitude of his chamber, and by even a
single effort of his mind, has added to the intellectual preeminence of
his country, has not lived in vain, nor to himself alone."{26}

He goes on to argue, perhaps needlessly, in vindication of poetry for
its own sake and for the way in which it combines itself with the
history of the nation, and expresses the spirit of that nation. He then
proceeds to a direct appeal in behalf of that very spirit. Addressing
the poets of America he says, "To those of them who may honor us by
reading our article, we would whisper this request,--that they should be
more original, and withal more national. It seems every way important,
that now, whilst we are forming our literature, we should make it as
original, characteristic, and national as possible. To effect this, it
is not necessary that the war-whoop should ring in every line, and every
page be rife with scalps, tomahawks, and wampum. Shade of Tecumseh
forbid!--The whole secret lies in Sidney's maxim,--'Look in thy heart
and write.'"{27}

He then points out that while a national literature strictly includes
"ever