Every one, also, who is familiar with Death as the "shadow of the rock Eternity," finds his own hallowed experiences embalmed in lines like the following:

"The clouds that gather round the setting sun,

Do take a sober coloring from an eye

That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality."

I forbear further citations. To embalm in beautiful forms the hallowed experiences of the race, is one of the high prerogatives which he enjoys who has been favored by his Maker. with the higher functions of the Imagination.

REMARKS ON THE PRECEDING ANALYSIS.

It is not professed that the preceding analysis has presented all the forms in conformity to which the Imagination moulds its creations. All that was designed, is to give a sufficient number of particular forms, to aid the student in his inquiries into the operations of this mysterious power.

Another remark is this: The examples presented in illustration of one particular form, often contain elements equally illustrative of other forms. This was unavoidable. It was enough for my purpose to present, in each example, the element illustrative of the principle to which it was referred.

REMARK OF COLERIDGE.

Coleridge has somewhere made a remark, which I regard as of great importance in guiding the judgment in detecting the peculiar operations of the Imagination, and separating them from the operations of other intellectual faculties. The amount of his remark is this: It is not every part of what is called a production of the Imagination, that is to be attributed to that faculty. Much often is mere narration, and much the mere filling out of the grand outline of the conception which

the Imagination has combined, and which as properly belongs to the Understanding and Judgment, as the filling up of the outlines of any other discourse of which the Intelligence has conceived. With a great portion of the filling up of Paradise Lost, for example, Imagination had no more to do than with that of filling up the grand outline of a sermon, or oration. In the sublime conception itself, and in the mysterious blending of the elements of thought often met with, in throwing that conception into form, here we find the workings of this creative, plastic faculty. To evolve principles which would enable the student, under such circumstances, to discern the operations of this faculty, has, as before said, been the main object of the preceding analysis.

CREATIONS OF THE IMAGINATION, WHY NOT ALWAYS

FICTIONS.

In the preceding part of this Chapter, it has been shown, that the creations of the Imagination are not always, as it has been often stated by philosophers, "new wholes which do not exist in nature." It becomes an important inquiry, when and why is not this statement true? It will be evident, at first thought, that when the elements of thought which enter into particular conceptions, are wholly recombined, the new wholes, thus produced, must exist purely in thought, without any corresponding existence. On the other hand, when the elements of beauty, grandeur, and sublimity exist in objects in connection with other and different elements, elements also related to other and different ideas, and when the Imagination, as in the Psalm of Night, above cited, blends these elements first named into some one beautiful, grand, or sublime conception, every element in the conception may be in strict correlation to realities. Take as a further illustration, a single stanza from a familiar hymn:

"His word of grace is sure and strong,

As that which built the skies!
The voice that rolls the stars along
Speaks all the promises."

Every element in this beautiful thought is strictly conformed to realities, as they are. Yet in the blending of these elements, particularly in the last two lines, we distinctly mark the plastic power of the Imagination, in its sublimest and most beautiful form.

The same is equally true, where, as shown above, the same power embalms, in similar conceptions, the hallowed sentiments and experiences of the past and present. Who that ever saw the tear of gratitude lying in the eye of affliction-a thing far more beautiful than the dew-drop, when it holds in its embrace the image of the morning sun a tear started by some gift that eased, for a time, the pressure of woe, and then turned away with a sorrowful heart, that such worth should be crushed beneath such a weight, does not recognize the truth, as well as beauty, of the thought contained in the following stanza, especially in the last two lines?

"I have heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds

With coldness still returning:

Alas! the gratitude of men

Has oftener left me mourning."

In another sense, all the proper creations of the Imagination are true. They are true to thought. In the depths of our inner being, there lie thoughts too deep for any words. which we can command. Nothing but an overshadowing Imagination can call them forth, and give them an external embodiment. Whether the forms in which they are embodied are correlated to substantial realities or not, they are true to thought, the most important of all realities. We feel grateful,

therefore, when we find thoughts which we had vainly endeavored to express, moulded into form, and thus assuming "a local habitation and a name."

I mention one other, and a very important sense, in which the creations of the Imagination are true. They sustain, in many instances, relations to realities analogous somewhat to that sustained by general notions. In a very important sense, these last have no realities in nature corresponding to them; that is, there is no one object, that in all respects corresponds to a general notion, that is, that contains the elements it represents, and nothing more nor less. The elements belonging to it, however, are found in each particular ranged under it. Let us now, in the light of this illustration, contemplate the forms of the beautiful, for example, shadowed forth by the Imagination. We may not be able, in all instances, to find any one particular object which contains, and nothing more nor less, the elements which enter into this form. Yet, whenever we meet with an object containing the elements of beauty, we find that element represented in the forms of the beautiful bodied forth by the Imagination. In these forms, we do not find any one particular shadowed forth, but cach particular blended in the universal. In the most perfect forms of statuary, for example, we do not find any one human form, in distinction from all others, represented, but we find whatever is beautiful in every form there embodied. As the Understanding there represents the particular in the general, so the Imagination represents all particulars relating to the beautiful, &c., in the universal.

SPHERE OF THE IMAGINATION NOT CONFINED TO POETRY.

Most of the examples introduced into this Chapter are poetical. From this I would not have it supposed, that, in my judgment, the Imagination is confined to this species of

composition. We meet with its finest creations, on the other hand, in painting, in statuary, in prose, and in every kind of discourse in which the elements of thought can be blending in harmony with pure ideas. It admits, at least, of a doubt, whether the Imagination of Milton ranged with a more discursive energy in his highest prose compositions, or in his Paradise Lost.

LAW OF TASTE RELATIVE TO THE ACTION OF THE IMAGINATION.

It is, as we have seen, the peculiar province of the Imagination to dissolve, recombine, and blend the elements of thought. Its procedure in all these respects, however, is not arbitrary. Every thought cannot be blended with every other, without violating the laws of good taste. Here, then, an important question presents itself, to wit: What is the law which guides the Imagination, in blending the elements of thought? I will present my own ideas on this subject, by an example taken from the book of Job:

"Hast thou given the horse his strength?

Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? "

The propriety of blending the two conceptions, that of the mane of the war-horse and of thunder, has been questioned by some, on account of the total dissimilarity of the objects of those conceptions. It is readily admitted, that no two objects are in themselves more dissimilar. Yet it is confidently maintained, that there never was a figure of speech more appropriate. The reason is obvious, and every one feels it, though he may not have an analytical consciousness of it. When two objects are, as objects of sense, totally dissimilar, the conception of each may excite precisely similar feelings. Hence the propriety and force of the figure employed by the sacred writer,