cavity of the tomb and laughed. And I could not laugh
with the Demon, and he cursed me because I could not laugh. And the lynx
which dwelleth forever in the tomb, came out therefrom, and lay down at
the feet of the Demon, and looked at him steadily in the face.

* * * * *

ESSAYS.

* * * * *

THE POETIC PRINCIPLE.

In speaking of the Poetic Principle, I have no design to be either
thorough or profound. While discussing very much at random the
essentiality of what we call Poetry, my principal purpose will be to
cite for consideration some few of those minor English or American poems
which best suit my own taste, or which, upon my own fancy, have left the
most definite impression. By "minor poems" I mean, of course, poems of
little length. And here, in the beginning, permit me to say a few words
in regard to a somewhat peculiar principle, which, whether rightfully or
wrongfully, has always had its influence in my own critical estimate of
the poem. I hold that a long poem does not exist. I maintain that the
phrase, "a long poem," is simply a flat contradiction in terms.

I need scarcely observe that a poem deserves its title only inasmuch as
it excites, by elevating the soul. The value of the poem is in the ratio
of this elevating excitement. But all excitements are, through a psychal
necessity, transient. That degree of excitement which would entitle a
poem to be so called at all, cannot be sustained throughout a
composition of any great length. After the lapse of half an hour, at the
very utmost, it flags--fails--a revulsion ensues--and then the poem is,
in effect, and in fact, no longer such.

There are, no doubt, many who have found difficulty in reconciling the
critical dictum that the "Paradise Lost" is to be devoutly admired
throughout, with the absolute impossibility of maintaining for it,
during perusal, the amount of enthusiasm which that critical dictum
would demand. This great work, in fact, is to be regarded as poetical
only when, losing sight of that vital requisite in all works of Art,
Unity, we view it merely as a series of minor poems. If, to preserve its
Unity--its totality of effect or impression--we read it (as would be
necessary) at a single sitting, the result is but a constant alternation
of excitement and depression. After a passage of what we feel to be true
poe