And that is fancy;--one image capriciously suggested by another, and but half connected with the subject of discourse; nay, half opposed to it; for in the gaiety of the speaker’s animal spirits, the ‘Dutchman’s beard’ is made to represent the lady! Imagination belongs to Tragedy, or the serious muse; Fancy to the comic. _Macbeth_, _Lear_, _Paradise Lost_, the poem of Dante, are full of imagination: the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ and the _Rape of the Lock_, of fancy: _Romeo and Juliet_, the _Tempest_, the _Faerie Queene_, and the _Orlando Furioso_, of both. The terms were formerly identical, or used as such; and neither is the best that might be found. The term Imagination is too confined: often too material. It presents too invariably the idea of a solid body;--of ‘images’ in the sense of the plaster-cast cry about the streets. Fancy, on the other hand, while it means nothing but a spiritual image or apparition (Φαντασμα, appearance, _phantom_), has rarely that freedom from visibility which is one of the highest privileges of imagination. Viola, in _Twelfth Night_, speaking of some beautiful music, says: It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is throned. In this charming thought, fancy and imagination are combined; yet the fancy, the assumption of Love’s sitting on a throne, is the image of a solid body; while the imagination, the sense of sympathy between the passion of love and impassioned music, presents us no image at all. Some new term is wanting to express the more spiritual sympathies of what is called Imagination.