of paper--they are to be seen at this
day in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge--and set down no less
than ninety-nine subjects for his proposed _magnum opus_, before he
could decide upon _Paradise Lost_. To be sure, when the _magnum opus_
was written it fetched L5 only. But even this does not prove that
Milton was before his age. Perhaps he was behind it. _Paradise Lost_
appeared in 1667: in 1657 it might have fetched considerably more than
L5.

If the Typical Poet have few points in common with Shakespeare or
Milton, I fear that the Typical Poet begins to be in a bad way.

Of Coleridge.

Shall we try Coleridge? He had "great thoughts"--thousands of them. On
the other hand, he never had the slightest difficulty in uttering
them, in prose. His great achievements in verse--his _Genevieve_, his
_Christabel_, his _Kubla Khan_, his _Ancient Mariner_--are
achievements of expression. When they appeal from the senses to the
intellect their appeal is usually quite simple.

"He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small."

No, I am afraid Coleridge is not the Typical Poet.

On the whole I suspect the Typical Poet to be a hasty generalization
from Shelley.

POETS ON THEIR OWN ART

May 11, 1895. A Prelude to Poetry.

"To those who love the poets most, who care most for their ideals,
this little book ought to be the one indispensable book of devotion,
the _credo_ of the poetic faith." "This little book" is the volume
with which Mr. Ernest Rhys prefaces the pretty series of Lyrical Poets
which he is editing for Messrs. Dent & Co. He calls it _The Prelude to
Poetry_, and in it he has brought together the most famous arguments
stated from time to time by the English poets in defence and praise of
their own art. Sidney's magnificent "Apologie" is here, of course, and
two passages from Ben Jonson's "Discoveries," Wordsworth's preface to
the second edition of "Lyrical Ballads," the fourteenth chapter of the
"Biographia Literaria," and Shelley's "Defence."

Poets as Prose-writers.

What admirable prose these poets write! Southey, to be sure, is not
represented in this volume. Had he written at length upon his art--in
spite of his confession that, when writing prose, "of what is now
called style not a thought enters my head at any time"--we may be sure
the reflection would have been even more obvious than it is. But
without him this small collection makes out a splendid case agai