nd which our critic complains of is not to be
remedied merely by silencing the chorus of echoic voices. If we dropped
from consideration all but poets of unquestionable merit, we should not
be more successful in detecting a single clear note, binding all their
voices together. When the ideal poet of Shelley is set against that of
Byron, or that of Matthew Arnold against that of Browning, there is no
more unison than when great and small in the poetic world are allowed to
speak indiscriminately.

Does this prove that only the supreme poet speaks truly, and that we
must hush all voices but his if we would learn what is the essential
element in the poetic character? Then we are indeed in a hard case.
There is no unanimity of opinion among us regarding the supreme English
poet of the last century, and if we dared follow personal taste in
declaring one of higher altitude than all the others only a small
percentage of readers would be satisfied when we set up the _Prelude_ or
_Adonais_ or _Childe Harold_ or _Sordello_ beside the _Republic_ as
containing the one portrait of the ideal singer worthy to stand beside
the portrait of the ideal philosopher. And this is not the worst of the
difficulty. Even if we turn from Shelley to Byron, from Wordsworth to
Browning, in quest of the one satisfactory conception of the poet, we
shall not hear in anyone of their poems the single clear ringing note
for which we are listening. When anyone of these men is considering the
poetic character, his thought behaves like a pendulum, swinging back and
forth between two poles.

Thus we ourselves have admitted the futility of our quest of truth, the
critic may conclude. But no, before we admit as much, let us see exactly
what constitutes the lack of unity which troubles us. After its
persistence in verse of the same country, the same period, the same
tradition, the same poet, even, has led us to the brink of despair, its
further persistence rouses in us fresh hope, or at least intense
curiosity, for what impresses us as the swinging of a pendulum keeps up
its rhythmical beat, not merely in the mind of each poet, but in each
phase of his thought. We find the same measured antithesis of thought,
whether he is considering the singer's environment or his health, his
inspiration or his mission.

In treatment even of the most superficial matters related to the poet's
character, this vibration forces itself upon our attention. Poets are
sofar from subs