ificant and wonderful, a source
of contemplation for their leisure moments. Longings for the spirit
hold them in the distance; and it is this spirit that destines them to
act the mysterious part of the mind in this human worlds while others
represent the outer limbs and senses, the mind's projected powers. They
would be disturbed by great and various events. A simple life is their
lot, and they become acquainted with the rich subject-matter and
countless phenomena of the world from relations and writings alone. But
seldom in the course of their lives does any occurrence draw them along
with it in its sudden vortex, in order to acquaint them by a few
experiences more accurately with the situation and character of active
men. On the contrary, their susceptible minds are already sufficiently
busied with near and insignificant phenomena, which represent the great
world as it were renewed; and they will advance no step, without making
the most surprising discoveries in themselves, concerning the nature
and significance of these phenomena. They are poets, those men of rare
inspiration, who at times wander through our dwelling-place, and
everywhere renew the ancient, venerable, service of humanity, and of
its first gods,--the stars, spring, love, happiness, fertility, health,
and the joyous heart; they, who are already here in possession of
heavenly rest, and, driven about by no foolish desires, breathe only
the fragrance of earthly fruits, without devouring them, then to be
irrevocably chained to the lower world. They are free guests whose
golden feet tread softly, and whose presence involuntarily outspreads
its wings around. A poet may be known, like a good king, by cheerful
and bright faces, and he alone justly bears the name of sage. If you
compare him with heroes, you will find that the songs of the poets
frequently awake heroic courage in youthful hearts; but heroic deeds
have probably never awakened the spirit of poesy in any mind whatever.
Henry was a poet by nature. Many events seemed to conspire to aid his
development, and as yet nothing had disturbed the elasticity of his
soul. All that he saw and heard seemed only to remove new bars within
him, and to open new windows for his spirit. The world, with its great
and changing relations, lay before him. But as yet it was silent; and
its soul, its language was not yet awakened. Soon did a poet approach,
holding a lovely girl by the hand, that by the sound of the mother
to