04 ON THE EFFECTS OP CERTAIN MENTAL 



of iEneas, so beautifully described by Virgil ; of Sardanapalus, 

 dreading the loss and destruction of his Assyrian empire, and the 

 extinction of the line of Nimrod ; of Rachel Baker ; of Helen Mc. 

 Dougal, and others.* The beautiful illustrations which have been 

 given by Juvenal, Lucretius, Byron, and Pope, of this mood of the 

 Imagination, are the truths of philosophy conveyed to the under- 

 standing and rendered more pleasing by the poetic garb in which 

 they are arrayed. They are admired by most readers for their 

 beauty of language ; but they carry an instruction which, if we 

 value the happiness of bodily health, of mental power, of a good 

 night and a peaceful day, should hardly be passed over as the mere 

 effusions of a brilliant fancy. Much of the pleasure of our exis- 

 tence depends upon the due regulation of the Imagination. Half 

 our evils are imaginary, and more than half our good ideal ; we 

 heighten the colouring and deepen the shade of both one and the 

 other. 



The mind, like the body, only continues its existence from the 

 action of repeated stimuli upon it ; and were we unexcited by hope, 

 desire, or love, had we no object to attain, no reverse to fear, or 

 nothing to call into action our mental faculties, the mind would be- 

 come cut off from external nature, like the body deprived of its 



* Sometimes the dreams in which the passions are concerned are of a more 

 pleasing character than those just referred to ; we are occasionally, under 

 these circumstances, transported to the society of those long dead, and to 

 scenes which we thought faded from the memory for ever. It is a singular 

 fact that dreams of the dead are seldom, if ever, accompanied by terror or 

 surprise; and in these states the friend of our youth, the wife of our bosom* 

 the child of our affection, is restored ; and the exquisite pleasure of these 

 dreams throws sometimes a halo of pleasure around us for days after they 

 have occurred. *' The slumberer, in these states, supposes himself enjoying 

 the companionship of those who were dearer to him than life, — 



' He hears their voice in dreams. 



Upon him softly call, 

 Like echo of the mountain-stream. 



Or distant water-fall ; 

 He sees their form as when 



They were a living thin^. 

 And blossomed in the eyes of men. 



Like any flower of spring.' 



and the pleasure of their society is trebly enhanced from the intensity and 

 purity of the feelings with which these dreams are accompanied ; in which 

 the characters of the emotions of the mind have so little resemblance with 

 the waking state, that we sometimes lie for a time after waking, to recollect 

 what circumstance of our dreams has caused that repose and serenity which 

 we feel diffused through our whole mental being." 



