PUBLISHERS' NOTE.

The following graceful review, which the author has modestly alluded to as "poetical ramblings," was prepared and read in parts, at different times, by Dr. Bradway, for entertaining the fraternal council meetings in the line of his official duties therein. His hearers were so delighted as to unanimously request the publication of the papers that had, from evening to evening, fully captivated their appreciation.

The publisher, being one of the favored listeners, volunteered to issue the series in fitting style, in the faith that the little work would meet with decided favor as a pleasing literary keepsake a convenient "catch up," as it were, for easy reading in spare moments, likely to be rarely and popularly relished.

UNIVE SITY

OF

I.

Poetry is the language of Nature. It is written in unmistakable characters all over the broad pages of her great book, and may be read and understood by all who have eyes to see, ears to hear, and minds to appreciate the sublime, the melodious and the beautiful. Natural poetry in its broadest sense includes motion, sound, color and form. The graceful waving of willow boughs in the gentle wind, the gambols of the young of animals as they skip and play in the very joy of young existence, the graceful movements of many birds in their easy flight through the ocean of air, and the fleecy summer cloud as it floats like a pure spirit over mountain and moor impelled by the summer breeze, are all familiar examples of nature's poetry of motion. The song of birds, the hum of insects, the babbling of brooks as they wind their way over pebbly bottoms, or "slip down among moss-grown stones with endless laughter;" the murmur of woodland streams, the sighing of the summer zephyr through forest and grove; the roar of the cataract and the wild chorus of the storm, are examples of the poetry of sound in the great auditorium of Nature. The flowers that deck the hillside and beautify the valley, that are spread abroad everywhere in such wild profusion over the broad lap of mother earth, are familiar examples of nature's poetry of form and color. In truth "The world is full of poetry-the air

Is living with its spirits; and the waves
Dance to the music of its melodies,

And sparkle in its brightness. Earth is veiled

And mantled with its beauty; and the walls
That close the universe with crystal in,
Are eloquent with voices that proclaim
The unseen glories of immensity
In harmonies too perfect and too high
For aught but things of celestial mould;
And speak to man in one eternal hymn
Unfading beauty and unyielding power.
Poetry is itself a thing of God;

He made his prophets poets, and the more
We feel of poesy do we become

Like God in love and power."

II.

It has been truly said, that whatever excites the imagination, pleases the fancy, elevates, purifies, refines and ennobles our being, whether in the world of mind or matter, has in it the elements of, and comes legitimately in the dominion of poetry. Three essential poetical sentiments exist in man: The love of God, the love of woman and the love of country; the religious, the human and the political sentiment. For this reason wherever the knowledge of God is darkened, wherever the face of woman is veiled, wherever the people are led captive or enslaved, there poetry is like a flame which for want of fuel exhausts and dies out. On the contrary, wherever God reigns upon his throne in all the majesty of his glory, wherever woman rules by the irresistible power of her purity, her virtue and her enchantments, wherever the people are free, there poetry has modest roses for the woman, glorious palms for the people, and splendid wings with which to mount up to the loftiest regions of heaven. Baseness, impurity, wrong and injustice give no inspiration, produce no poets and no poetry. It has been well said, that "Poets are born, not made." Dame Nature has never granted a franchise for the manufacture of poets; has