the meadow’s fragrant hedge, In spring time when the woodlands first are green (Book II, 175-6) which takes us far away from the formal conventional landscapes of the Augustans. These two are among the more famous of their time, but a close search amongst the minor poetry of the mid-eighteenth century will bring to light many a surprising instance of poetry written with an eye on the object, as in John Cunningham’s (1729-1773) “Day,”[255] where the sights and sounds of the countryside are simply and freshly brought before us: Swiftly from the mountain’s brow, Shadows, nurs’d by night, retire: And the peeping sun-beam, now, Paints with gold the village spire. Philomel forsakes the thorn, Plaintive where she prates at night; And the Lark, to meet the morn, Soars beyond the shepherd’s sight. From the low-roof’d cottage ridge, See the chatt’ring Swallow spring; Darting through the one-arch’d bridge, Quick she dips her dappled wing. But the great bulk of neo-classical verse is unaffected by the regained and quickened outlook on the external world. It is in the forerunners of the Romantic revolt that this latter development is to be most plainly noted: when, as the result of many and varied causes English poets were inspired to use their eyes again, they were able, slowly and in a somewhat shallow manner at first, afterwards quickly and profoundly, to “sense” the beauty of the external world, its mysterious emanations of power and beauty. This quickening and final triumph of the artistic sense naturally revealed itself in expression; the conventional words and epithets were really doomed from the time of “Grongar Hill” and “The Seasons,” and a new language was gradually forged to express the fresh, vivid perceptions peculiar to each poet, according as his senses interpreted for him the face of the world.