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IX.—A GROUP.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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159

IX.—A GROUP.

—As one who had been brought
By Fairy hands, and as a changeling left
In human cradle—the sad substitute
For a more smiling infant—Shelley sings
Vague minstrelsies that speak a foreign birth,
Among erratic tribes. Yet not in vain
His moral, and the fancies in his flight
Not without profit for another race!
He left his spirit with his voice—a voice
Solely spiritual—which will long suffice
To wing the otherwise earthy of the time,
And, with the subtler leaven of the soul,
Inform the impetuous passions!
With him came,
Antagonist, yet still with sympathy,
Wordsworth, the Bard of the Contemplative—
A voice of purest thought in sweetest music!
—These, in themselves unlike, together link'd,
Appear in unison in after days,
Making progressive still the mental births,
That pass successively through rings of time,
Each to a several conquest, most unlike
That of its sire; yet borrowing of its strength,
Where needful, and endowing it with new,
To meet the fresh necessities which still
Haunt the free progress of each conquering race.
—Thus Tennyson and Barrett, Browning and Horne,
Blend their opposing faculties, and speak
For that fresh nature, which, in daily things,
Beholds the immortal, and from common forms

160

Extorts the Eternal still! So Baily sings
In Festus—so, upon an humbler rank,
Testing the worth of social policies,
As working through a single human will,
The Muse of Taylor argues—Artevelde,
Being the man who marks a popular growth,
And notes the transit of a thought through time,
Growing as still it speeds. ....
Exquisite
The ballads of Campbell, and the lays of Moore,
Appealing to our tastes, our gentler moods,
The play of the affections, or the thoughts
That come with national pride; and, as we pause
In our own march, delight the sentiment!
But nothing they make for progress. They perfect
The language, and diversify its powers—
Please and beguile, and, for the forms of art,
Prove what they are, and may be. But they lift
None of our standards; help us not in growth;
Compel no prosecution of our search,
And leave us, where they found us—with our time!