ALTHOUGH many persons may maintain that the last two or three examples from the Naturalist’s division of our subject ought to be reserved as Emblems to illustrate Poetic Ideas, the animals themselves may be inventions of the imagination, but the properties assigned to them appear less poetic than in the instances which are now to follow. The question, however, is of no great importance, as this is not a work on Natural History, and a strictly scientific arrangement is not possible when poets’ fancies are the guiding powers. How finely and often how splendidly Shakespeare makes use of the symbolical imagery of his art, a thousand instances might be brought to show. Three or four only are required to make plain our meaning. One, from _All’s Well that Ends Well_ (act i. sc. 1, l. 76, vol. iii. p. 112), is Helena’s avowal to herself of her absorbing love for Bertram,— “My imagination Carries no favour in’t but Bertram’s. I am undone: there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. ’Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Might I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die of love. ’Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart’s table; heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his reliques.” Another instance shall be from _Troilus and Cressida_ (act iii. sc. 3, l. 145, vol. vi. p. 198). Neglected by his allies, Achilles demands, “What, are my deeds forgot?” and Ulysses pours forth upon him the great argument, that to preserve fame and honour active exertion is continually demanded,— “Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour’d As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done: perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.” And so on, with inimitable force and beauty, until the crowning thoughts come (l. 165),—