tality, of God, or of Freedom; of Good, of True, or of Beautiful; of the Lyric, of the Epic, or of the Drama. In old legend there are strange stories told of a basilisk which kills you if it sees you before itself is seen, but which you kill if you can see it before being seen. In this respect, objections are a kind of basilisk; if anticipated they are harmless, if not, they often do a great deal of mischief. I would therefore beg that, since the foregoing sketch has been of necessity so very cursory, the reader will grant me some indulgence if any difficulties should arise, if the meaning has not in every case been made intelligible, or if any of the opinions hazarded seem not to be sufficiently well established. Some of these difficulties will vanish, the doubtful positions will be illustrated, perhaps confirmed, and the whole drift of the sketch will be better understood, if read in the light of the views put forward in the first part of the Third Book, and at page 119 concentrated in a tabular form. CHAPTER I. ON THE DEFENCE OF POESY. THE defence of poesy has already more than once been written; and with more than usual power by a Sidney and a Shelley. Without any slight to these able works, it may, however, be said, that they can have little weight with those who push poetry to defend its own, They are mostly written from the whereabouts of the poet; and the weapon employed is the unsearchable logic of poesy—a logic most true, but too brief for common purposes, a logic swift and untraceable as electricity, flying straight from point to point, unmindful of the turns, the stoppages, and the stages, the ifs, buts, and therefores, of ordinary argument. Such reasoning will seldom hit those who drive poets to the defensive. The poet is thus pressed by two very different personages; by the philosopher, and by one who stands between philosopher and poet, of neither gender, the proser. The proser has been dipt in some unknown Styx that has case-hardened him against almost every weapon --all but the heel; and there is no way of dealing with him but by putting motion into those heels, I mean, by arousing his activities; and then he will turn, according to his degree, either a poet or a philosopher. If he takes the part of the poet, good and well, nothing more has to be said. If he becomes a philosopher, and still decries the poet, he must be met on the side of his arithmetical understanding with common logic and the rule of three. In the foregoing pages, it is hoped that somewhat has been advanced, which, in this regard, may be of service; since if anything need and be worthy of defence, the best that can be given is to make known its real nature, and show its true colours. Having already at some length (in Books Third and Fourth) put forward doctrines that illustrate the positive worth of poesy, it will here be sufficient to stand wholly on the defensive. Not that in every case, and from every mind, it will be possible to remove objections; but at least they may be silenced. We may spike the guns which we cannot take away. There is no denying that, however much poesy may be ill-spoken of by some, it has always been well received by the wide world; more heartily welcomed than aught else the work of man; more lastingly kept, and never willingly forgotten. This is not (although it might be) brought forward as a plea in favour of poetry, lest any one should think that plea in danger of |