he mind examines it;
whereas upon many another, which appeared at first so easy and obvious,
there is revealed the very stamp of that godlike genius which creates,
as if without effort, the one unsurpassable, soul-satisfying "name."
If, the more we return to a poet's work, the more it grows upon us and
the more we see in it, then, as Longinus truly declares, it possesses
the quality of the sublime. Without that result the poet may be great,
but not of the greatest. To employ once more that definition which I
still find the best yet constructed, true poetry is the "exquisite
expression of an exquisite impression." For a reader to reach the
apprehension of such an impression in all its exquisiteness, and to
recognize the full exquisiteness of its expression, requires some
effort. Under the pellucid diction may lurk amazing depths. We must
therefore read a poet, and read him anew. This is the way to attain to a
reasoned and discriminating judgment, and to escape those vain and vague
impressions which we can neither trust ourselves nor impart to others.

So much for the heads of the sermon. The application is to Tennyson's
successors. Of William Watson and John Davidson as men, I know
practically nothing. I am fain to confess that I have no desire to know
anything. There is too much personal gossip already interfering with our
enjoyment of literature. These men's work is presumably their best
selves, and except for such hints of their personality as occur in their
poems, I know not "whether they be black or white." Incidentally, Mr.
Watson lets us learn that he is from the North of England, and I gather
that Mr. Davidson is a Scot from the fact that he scans "world" as two
syllables, uses "I mind" in the sense of "I remember," and talks
unpatriotically enough of his nurture in that easily identifiable region
where are to be found--

A chill and watery clime; a thrifty race
Using all means of grace
To save their souls and purses.

Among their many points of difference, the two men have this prime
quality in common, that they are ready to rely upon their own poetical
resources. Their work contains, indeed, many an echo of their great
predecessors, many a suggestion of familiarity with Milton or Pope,
Wordsworth, Shelley, or Tennyson. It is evident that both have steeped
themselves in the literature which is best calculated to make an English
poet. But it is equally evident that they have mastered their material,
a