er eye; nothing was to be left definite
or vivid. We shall make a very great mistake if we suppose this
conventional vagueness to have been accidental, and a still greater if
we attribute it to a lack of cleverness. When Pope referred to the
sudden advent of a heavy shower at a funeral in these terms--

"'Tis done, and nature's various charms decay;
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful day!
Now hung with pearls the dropping trees appear,
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier,"

it was not because he had not the skill to come into closer touch with
reality, but that he did not wish to do so. It had been plainly laid
down by Malherbe and confirmed by Boileau that objects should be named
in general, not in precise terms. We are really, in studying the
descriptive parts of the Classicist poets, very close to the theories of
Mallarme and the Symbolists which occupied us twenty years ago. The
object of the poet was not to present a vivid picture to the reader, but
to start in him a state of mind.

We must recollect, in considering what may seem to us the sterility and
stiffness of the English poets from 1660 to 1740, that they were
addressing a public which, after the irregular violence and anarchical
fancy of the middle of the seventeenth century, had begun to yearn for
regularity, common sense, and a moderation in relative variety. The
simplest ideas should be chosen, and should depend for their poetical
effect, not upon a redundant and gorgeous ornament, but solely upon
elegance of language. There were certain references, certain channels of
imagery, which were purely symbolical, and these could be defended only
on the understanding that they produced on the mind of the reader,
instantly and without effort, the illustrative effect required. For
instance, with all these neo-classicists, the mythological allusions,
which seem vapid and ridiculous to us, were simplified metaphor and a
question of style. In short, it rested the jaded imagination of Europe,
after Gongora and Marini, Donne and D'Aubigne, to sink back on a poetry
which had taken a vow to remain scrupulous, elegant, and selected.

But the imagination of England was now beginning to be impatient of
these bonds. It was getting tired of a rest-cure so prolonged. It asked
for more colour, more exuberance, more precise reproduction of visual
impressions. Thomson had summed up and had carried to greater lengths
the instinct for scenery which ha