is only by what it makes of it that it confers
on it a poetic dignity. The elegiac poet seeks nature, but nature as an
idea, and in a degree of perfection that it has never reached in reality,
although he weeps over this perfection as something that has existed and
is now lost. When Ossian speaks to us of the days that are no more, and
of the heroes that have disappeared, his imagination has long since
transformed these pictures represented to him by his memory into a pure
ideal, and changed these heroes into gods. The different experiences of
such or such a life in particular have become extended and confounded in
the universal idea of transitoriness, and the bard, deeply moved, pursued
by the increase of ruin everywhere present, takes his flight towards
heaven, to find there in the course of the sun an emblem of what does not
pass away.

I turn now to the elegiac poets of modern times. Rousseau, whether
considered as a poet or a philosopher, always obeys the same tendency; to
seek nature or to avenge it by art. According to the state of his heart,
whether he prefers to seek nature or to avenge it, we see him at one time
roused by elegiac feelings, at others showing the tone of the satire of
Juneval; and again, as in his Julia, delighting in the sphere of the
idyl. His compositions have undoubtedly a poetic value, since their
object is ideal; only he does not know how to treat it in a poetic
fashion. No doubt his serious character prevents him from falling into
frivolity; but this seriousness also does not allow him to rise to poetic
play. Sometimes absorbed by passion, at others by abstractions, he
seldom if ever reaches aesthetic freedom, which the poet ought to
maintain in spite of his material before his object, and in which he
ought to make the reader share. Either he is governed by his sickly
sensibility and his impressions become a torture, or the force of thought
chains down his imagination and destroys by its strictness of reasoning
all the grace of his pictures. These two faculties, whose reciprocal
influence and intimate union are what properly make the poet, are found
in this writer in an uncommon degree, and he only lacks one thing--it is
that the two qualities should manifest themselves actually united; it is
that the proper activity of thought should show itself mixed more with
feeling, and the sensuous more with thought. Accordingly, even in the
ideal which he has made of human nature, he is too much ta