Yet in the next page the philosopher avows his intention of waging eternal war with superstition; and gives exalted praise to Epicurus because he suffered no feelings of religious awe to interfere with his philosophical investigations. In this passage superstition (or religion, to use his own term) is personified, and represented as some hideous monster thrusting her head from out the skies, and regarding mankind with an awful and terrible aspect. The whole image presented is eminently grand and poetic. "Humana ante oculos fede quam vita jaceret In terris oppressa gravi sub religione; Quæ caput a cœli regionibus obtendebat, Horribili super adspectu mortalibus instans; Primum Graius homo mortaleis tollere contra Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra: Quem neque fama deum, nec fulmina, nec minitanti Murmure compressit cœlum; sed eo magis acrem Inritat animi virtutem effringere ut arta Naturæ primus portarum claustra cupiret." Thus we see that although one great part of his purpose was to divest the mind of popular superstitions, he found the language of philosophy too barren, and the images which truth presented too cold and lifeless to supply the materials of poetry. Hence his personifications, and his digressions, which abound in the richest ornaments of fancy. As a philosopher Lucretius was led to reject the legends of ancient superstition, because such terrors kept the human mind in darkness and error. "Nam velutei puerei trepidant, atque omnia cæcis In tenebris metuunt; sic nos in luce timemus Interdum nihilo quæ sunt metuenda magisquam Quæ puerei in tenebris pavitant, finguntque futura. Hunc igitur terrorem animi tenebrasque, necesse est, Non radiei solis neque lucida tela diei Discutiant; sed naturæ species, ratioque." Lib. 2, lin. 54. But the spirit of poetry alone would have persuaded him to increase the gloom and mists of superstition; for fancy's favorite range is among regions darkened by the shades of ancient and venerable error. The intrusion of cold reason is always unwelcome to a romantic imagination. There is a passage of Campbell, (I cannot remember the words,) in which he laments the dispersion by the clearer light of reason of some fanciful notions in regard, I think, to the rainbow, which had formerly been the delight of his youth. Collins too regrets the restraint of imagination imposed by philosophy. He bids farewell to metaphysics, and declares his purpose of leaving such barren fields of speculation, and of retiring "to thoughtful cell Where fancy breathes her potent spell." So much to mark the difference between poetical and philosophical genius. The remainder of this essay shall be devoted to the peculiarities which distinguish the genius of poetry in particular.