Disregarding this foolish conceit, we may admit that this man shows a broad and comprehensive intellect--he is one who knows something of himself, and that self is a manly self. And he simply exhibits _himself_ in those creations of his fancy, wherein a great variety of men and women show the passions, follies, and changing interests of life. He has the power of vividly seeing and of clearly showing what in his mind he sees, and in language often low and uncouth, but frequently in fine and lofty tones. His certain knowledge of himself gives pithy form to his wit; and his expressions are the direct utterances of one who sees, not of one who does not nor cannot see. His, on the whole, was a very large and true manhood, which, in spite of unfavourable influences and some tarnish, manifested itself, and occasionally in grand and beautiful forms. In very garbage there are sparkling gems. He often offends decency, but is less indecent than his time--and when he is simply himself, the natural morality of a large man becomes conspicuous. Some of his minor things, based on the affectations of his period, and formed on bad models, which he weakly copies, are not without marks of his rich fancy, yet are so indecent that in our Flowery Land they would be suppressed. None the less, you will find these objectionable verses in the hands of the youth of both sexes. This degradation of the moral sense is very common. It finds form in the versification of those poets whom the English style _Amatory_--chiefly with them, but more repulsively with the play-writers. Examples of this indelicacy and coarseness are lying about anywhere. It seems to us very strange: for to what good? No doubt, poetry very properly deals with human emotions and interests; but why should the poet dare to print what he would not dare to utter, unless among the shameless! Some of these trivialities are not wanting in sweetness and tenderness--and some have a very refined feeling. The great blemish is _falseness_. The Western Barbarians addict themselves always to a false and affected mode whenever they address themselves to the female: and the style is absurd. It is borrowed from the obsolete manners of ages ago, when it was the fashion [phan-ti-te] to pretend the most exalted reverence for the sex. They were addressed as goddesses, and there was a whole armoury of weapons of Love, from which these fantastic poets armed their divinities, and pretended to be pierced through and through, wounded, bleeding, at their feet! Dying, transfixed, and rolling their languishing eyes in death, imploring the goddesses to save them, even if by one glance of their bright eyes! The amount of this nonsense is perfectly astonishing! I give a fair specimen here from a much admired writer of this class:-- "Sweet Phillis, idol of my heart, Oh, turn to me those tender eyes! Transfix my breast with Cupid's dart, But listen to my dying sighs!