Recreations of Christopher North, Volume 1Wilson, John
General
Recreations of Christopher North, Volume 1
Wilson, John
Essays
'Tis not easy to know, seeing it is so difficult to define it, whether
this or that youth who thinks he has genius, has it or not: the only
proof he may have given of it is perhaps a few copies of verses, which
breathe the animal gladness of young life, and are tinged with tints of
the beautiful, which joy itself, more imaginative than it ever again
will be, steals from the sunset; but sound sense, and judgment, and
taste which is sense and judgment of all finest feelings and thoughts,
and the love of light dawning on the intellect, and ability to gather
into knowledge facts near and from afar, till the mind sees systems, and
in them understands the phenomena which, when looked at singly,
perplexed the pleasure of the sight--these, and aptitudes and capacities
and powers such as these, are indeed of promise, and more than promise;
they are already performance, and justify in minds thus gifted, and in
those who watch their workings, hopes of a wiser and happier future when
the boy shall be a man.
Perhaps too much honour, rather than too little, has been shown by this
age to mediocre poetry and other works of fiction. A few gleams of
genius have given some writers of little worth a considerable
reputation; and great waxed the pride of poetasters. But true poetry
burst in beauty over the land, and we became intolerant of "false
glitter." Fresh sprang its flowers from the "dædal earth," or seemed,
they were so surpassingly beautiful, as if spring had indeed descended
from heaven, "veiled in a shower of shadowing roses," and no longer
could we suffer young gentlemen and ladies, treading among the
profusion, to gather the glorious scatterings, and weaving them into
fantastic or even tasteful garlands, to present them to us, as if they
had been raised from the seed of their own genius, and entitled
therefore "to bear their name in the wild woods." This flower-gathering,
pretty pastime though it be, and altogether innocent, fell into
disrepute; and then all such florists began to complain of being
neglected, or despised, or persecuted, and their friends to lament over
their fate, the fate of all genius, "in amorous ditties all a summer's
day."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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