Second Romantic Period of English Literature. 163 



slated it: the Analytical of the same date slated it. Only one 

 review of importance, that in the "British Critic " of October, 

 1799, was written in full and intelligent sympathy with the novel 

 experiment. But the change was made, the revolution was 

 effected nevertheless: the marvellous verses were circulated, and 

 everywhere they created disciples. The Ballads were 23 in num- 

 ber, and of these only four were by Coleridge — "The Rime," 

 "The Foster-Mother's Tale," "The Nightingale," and " The 

 Dungeon." Of Wordsworth's contribution to the volume I name 

 one poem, the incomparable " Tintern Abbey." I said incom- 

 parable : is the epithet too high ? 



Listen: — "The Sounding Cataract." 



"Nature never did betray." 

 You do not hear lines like these a dozen times in the whole range 

 of English poetry. 



What, then, were Wordsworth's reforms? And what are the 

 qualities peculiar to him as a poet? In the first place he dealt 

 with the language of poetry. He "took stock," sa3'S one critic, 

 of the language of poetry, clearing out what was conventional, 

 and using many words which had long been regarded as unpoetic. 

 In the second place there was the return to Nature. And Words- 

 worth not 'only returned to the dear old nurse, but he extended 

 the domain of poetry in her realms ; not external nature only but 

 human nature too ; and not the human nature of high exalted 

 personages merely, but human nature in its lower walks also. 

 He is the High Priest of Nature. Milton viewed nature as a 

 glorious spectacle. To Wordsworth she is a living power. The 

 18th century poets contented themselves with descriptions of 

 single scenes in Nature, and they transferred to these their own 

 emotions. Wordsworth is the first who habitually thinks of her 

 as a whole, and treats of her as an active agent on the mind of 

 man. The accuracy of his observations of Nature may be 

 verified in any one of his poems chosen at will. But to get the 

 utmost good possible from Nature, he asserts, a further step is 

 necessary. There must be a withdrawal into oneself, and an 

 inward contemplation of what has been seen and felt. The 

 picture left on the mind after this reflection is Nature's last 

 lesson. It alone is the fit subject of poetry. And note, the 

 emotion originally excited will sometimes be completely trans- 



