Not till Dante’s _Vita Nuova_ appeared was the gospel of modern Love—the romantic adoration of a maiden by a youth—revealed for the first time in definite language. Genius, however, is always in advance of its age, _in emotions as well as in thoughts_; and the feelings experienced by Dante were obviously not shared by his contemporaries, who found them too subtle and sublimated for their comprehension. And, in fact, they _were_ too ethereal to quite correspond with reality. The strings of Dante’s lyre were strung too high, and touched by his magic hand, gave forth harmonic overtones too celestial for mundane ears to hear. It remained for Shakspere to combine the idealism with the realism of Love in proper proportions. The colours with which he painted the passion and sentiment of modern Love are as fresh and as true to life as on the day when they were first put on his canvas. Like Dante, however, he was emotionally ahead of his time, as an examination of contemporary literature in England and elsewhere shows. But within the last two centuries Love has gradually, if slowly, assumed among all educated people characteristics which formerly it possessed only in the minds of a few isolated men of genius. Before we proceed to prove all these assertions in detail, it will be well to cast a brief glance at the analogies to human Love presented by cosmic, chemical, and vegetal phenomena; as well as to distinguish Romantic Love from other forms of human and animal affection. This will enable us to comprehend more clearly what modern Love is, by making apparent what it is not. COSMIC ATTRACTION AND CHEMICAL AFFINITIES It is a favourite device of poets to invest plants and even inanimate objects with human thoughts and feelings. The parched, withering flower, tormented by the pangs of thirst, implores the passing cloud for a few drops of the vital fluid; and the cloud, moved to pity at sight of the suffering beauty, sheds its welcome, soothing tears. “And ’tis my faith, that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.”—WORDSWORTH. “The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise.” . . . . . . . . “Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them.”—SHAKSPERE.