‘Rise and Progress of English Poetry. 203 
ever, it may not be inadvertent, by way of preface, to 
remark that it is utterly impossible to dwell either at that 
length, or with that minuteness, on this very important 
branch of our literature within the space of a simple 
-atticle, which it most indisputably deserves. 
To survey, for instance, the rise and progress of any art 
or science, during the lapse of nearly eight hundred years, 
requires much time and deliberation, but when we are 
called upon to survey the history of one so minutely inter- 
woven with the progress of literature and refinement, upon 
our sea-girt isle, to that brilliancy which has characterised, 
and is characterising, its effulgence during the last and 
present centuries, is by no means a facile task. 
Poetry is indisputably the most ancient, as it is the most 
excellent, of the fine arts. It was the first fixed form of 
language—the earliest perpetuation of thought. It was 
the medium of praise to the Almighty—the medium 
through which lessons of wisdom were inculcated, and 
through which deeds of valour were extolled. It was an- 
_terior to music in melody, and antecedent to painting in 
description, excelling the one in harmony and sublimity, 
and the other by its power of pathos in description. Re- 
gard we the ice-clad region of Scandinavia, or the sunny 
clime of Greece—behold we the Indian in his prairie—or 
the Arab in his desert—we shall find that whenever man- 
kind have made any progress towards civilisation, they be- 
come irresistibly impelled by a love of song amongst them. 
No further proof of this is wanting than the ancient 
-Greeks were incited to deeds of warlike enthusiasm 
while singing their praises to Apollo, and that whilst that 
enthusiastic tone of liberty which characterised Athens in 
her high and palmy state, was not less attributable to the 
love of poetry amongst them, and again, while the Eagles 
‘of Rome flew to the utmost bounds of the then known 
world, were not, may it be asked, the triumphs of oratory 
and poetry equally conspicuous at home? Campbell has 
well remarked, that— 
“Song is but the eloquence of truth.” 
and again— 
“Where Truth deigns to come, her 
Sister, Liberty, will not be far.” 
Shakespere, too, while delineating the power of pees 
fancy, jm 
“ The Poet’s eye in fine frenay rolling, 
Doth glance from earth to heaven, 
NEW SERIES.—VOL. I. BB 
