“Whether primordial _nonsense_ springs to life[7] In the wild war of _democratic_ strife,” and there only—or for whatever other reason it may be, whether physical, or moral, or philosophical (which last is understood to mean something more than the other two, though exactly _what_, it is difficult to say), we have not been able to find one good and true Poet, of sound principles and sober practice, upon whom we could rely for furnishing us with a handsome quantity of sufficient and approved verse—such verse as our readers might be expected to get by heart, and to sing; as the worthy philosopher MONGE describes the little children of Sparta and Athens singing the songs of Freedom, in expectation of the coming of _the Great Nation_. In this difficulty we have had no choice but either to provide no poetry at all—a shabby expedient—or to go to the only market where it is to be had good and ready made, that of the _Jacobins_—an expedient full of danger, and not to be used but with the utmost caution and delicacy. To this latter expedient, however, after mature deliberation, we have determined to have recourse; qualifying it at the same time with such precautions as may conduce at once to the safety of our readers’ principles, and to the improvement of our own poetry. For this double purpose, we shall select from time to time from among those effusions of the _Jacobin_ Muse which happen to fall in our way, such pieces as may serve to illustrate some one of the principles on which the poetical as well as the political doctrine of the NEW SCHOOL is established—prefacing each of them, for our readers’ sake, with a short disquisition on the particular tenet intended to be enforced or insinuated in the production before them—and accompanying it with an humble effort of our own, in imitation of the poem itself, and in further illustration of its principle. By these means, though we cannot hope to catch “_the wood-notes wild_” of the Bards of Freedom, we may yet acquire, by dint of repeating after them, a more complete knowledge of the secret in which their greatness lies than we could by mere prosaic admiration; and if we cannot become poets ourselves, we at least shall have collected the elements of a _Jacobin_ Art of Poetry for the use of those whose genius may be more capable of turning them to advantage. It might not be unamusing to trace the springs and principles of this species of poetry, which are to be found, some in the exaggeration, and others in the direct inversion of the sentiments and passions which have in all ages animated the breast of the favourite of the Muses, and distinguished him from the “vulgar throng”. The poet in all ages has despised riches and grandeur. The _Jacobin_ poet improves this sentiment into a hatred of the rich and the great. The poet of other times has been an enthusiast in the love of his native soil.