Thus it is that the jealousy People of literary fame often feel of each other, produces the foolish, and impolitic desire of decrying the general pretensions of the Age to Genius. Their narrow selfishness leads them to _betray_ the common cause, which it is their _true_ interest to _support_. They persuade the credulous Many, with whom envy of superior talents increases their willingness to despise, that Imagination is become enervated; designing, however, to have it understood, that in their individual instance exists the sole exception, “For they wou'd each bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus.” SONNET XXII. SUBJECT CONTINUED. You, whose dull spirits feel not the fine glow Enthusiasm breathes, no more of light Perceive ye in rapt POESY, tho' bright In Fancy's richest colouring, than can flow From jewel'd treasures in the central night Of their deep caves.--You have no _Sun_ to show Their inborn radiance pure.--Go, Snarlers, go; Nor your defects of feeling, and of sight, To charge upon the POET thus presume, Ye lightless minds, whate'er of title proud, Scholar, or Sage, or Critic, ye assume, Arraigning his high claims with censure loud, Or sickly scorn; _yours_, _yours_ is all the cloud, Gems cannot sparkle in the midnight Gloom. SONNET XXIII. TO MISS E. S. Do I not tell thee surly Winter's flown, That the brook's verge is green;--and bid thee hear, In yon irriguous vale, the Blackbird clear, At measur'd intervals, with mellow tone, Choiring [1]the hours of prime? and call thine ear To the gay viol dinning in the dale, With tabor loud, and bag-pipe's rustic drone To merry Shearer's dance;--or jest retail From festal board, from choral roofs the song; And speak of Masque, or Pageant, to beguile The caustic memory of a cruel wrong?-- Thy lips acknowledge this a generous wile, And bid me still the effort kind prolong; But ah! they wear a cold and joyless smile. 1: “While Day arises, that sweet hour of prime.” MILTON'S PAR. LOST. SONNET XXIV. TRANSLATION. Behold the Day an image of the Year! The Year an image of our life's short span! Morn, like the Spring, with growing light began, Spring, like our Youth, with joy, and beauty fair; Noon picturing Summer;--Summer's ardent sphere Manhood's gay portrait.--Eve, like Autumn, wan, Autumn resembling faded age in Man; Night, with its silence, and its darkness drear, Emblem of Winter's frore and gloomy reign, When torpid lie the vegetative Powers; Winter, so shrunk, so cold, reminds us plain Of the mute Grave, that o'er the dim Corse lours; There shall the Weary rest, nor ought remain To the pale Slumberer of Life's checker'd hours. SONNET XXV. [1]PETRARCH to VAUCLUSE.