and opens all the glories of nature to their view, unalloyed by the folly and wickedness, which are prevalent in the principal haunts of human life; at such prospects their bosoms expand, and their fancies glow with unutterable pleasure; they see not, or see with pity, the major part of mankind grovelling at a distance from them in paths of dirt and danger, actuated by restless and disgraceful passions, and sinking at last, without even momentary enjoyment, into quagmires, and irrecoverable pits. At the same time, "their" own "minds are kingdoms to themselves;"d and kingdoms not only of power, but of virtuous power. Time and space are at their command; the pomp of thrones, and the most ingenious splendour of human hands, are insignificant, compared with the creations of their ideas; they can call forth a paradise in a desert with the wand of a magician; and people the earth with angelic beauty and wisdom.

If such be the powers of genius when rightly directed, do its operations produce no recompense to itself? The sensual wretch, whose whole soul is imbruted, will deem these shadowy enjoyments worse than insipid: he will consider them as the play-things of insanity; and behold with ignorant contempt, or affected pity, the unhappiness of him, "My

d Alluding to the beautiful words of the old song, mind to me a kingdom is."

whom he will denominate a moon-struck visionary. Far different will be the opinion of the man of taste, and the sound philosopher. They well know, that "to advance ourselves in the order of intellectual beings" is, next to virtue, probably one of the first purposes for which we are destined to a trial in this state of existence; and is indeed itself a very high degree of virtue. I have heard that a celebrated poet, now living, lately said, that "the only things he values in this world are virtue and genius;" and, giving credit to the report, I have admitted him to a still higher rank (if possible) in my admiration than before.

He who imagines that the best proof of talent is the wordly fruit it brings forth; and that our mental faculties are only given us for the purpose of accumulating wealth and titles, and carrying on with acuteness and success the ordinary business of society, must behold the frequent failure of genius in these points with wonder. He must hear the evidence of fame with doubt; and refuse conviction to his own observations; because he will generally see men of the most brilliant capacities not only unwilling but unable to do the drudgery of practical affairs; because he will find men of subordinate and plodding parts, and not those who have pretensions to great intellectual preeminence, at the head of senates and councils; and neglect

and insult pursue those of splendid endowments, even when they descend to a contest in these ambitious paths.

There is nothing, therefore, more necessary to be impressed on Genius, than to know how to set a proper estimate on itself. Till it can survey the objects of vulgar flattery with a calm and dignified scorn; till it can raise itself above a competition for those distinctions, which coarse minds are better qualified to obtain; till a rivalry of its sharp and delicate-edged wit with heads of block and hearts of stone can be withdrawn, it will, it must be miserable. Defeated by those it despises, its irritable feelings generate poisonous vapours, which envelop in clouds of gloom and dissatisfaction all its golden visions.

Let the poet "reverence the lyre," to which his propitious nativity has consecrated him. Let him look to its charms to sooth away his angry passions; or to strike from its chords the tones of indignation, by which mean-spirited, or stupid greatness is held up,

"Fit garbage for the hell-hound Infamy!"

The scenery of inanimate creation is at his command; "the breath of heaven, fresh-blowing;", meadows, and hills, and vallies, and woods, and streams, are open to his rambles, where vanity and

ostentation will seldom insult him, and the drunkenness of puft-up prosperity will have little opportunity to spit her loathsome jokes on his humble fortune!

Such are the firm convictions of the present writer; and, if he does not always act up to these sentiments, let no one question his sincerity. There are those who too well know that his ardent passions sometimes mislead him; and that he cannot always suppress the seduction of views of ambition, which, he trusts, are far below him. These delusive flames, which occasionally emit their dancing lights to draw him over quagmires and precipices, he has too much reason to dread and abhor. Every step thus set is accompanied by anxiety and toil, and followed by regret and disappointment.

May 12, 1807.

No XI.

Hints for the Ruminator, and remarks on his style, and gravity and candour of manner and sentiment.

I HAVE had some doubt whether it would be prudent to print the following paper of my new correspondent, Mr. Random, who seems to have some knowledge of my personal history. But as my impartiality is to depend on the test of its insertion, I have at last determined to publish it; since its allusions seem harmless; but if there should be any thing in it at all pointed, no one has so much reason to complain as myself. The post-mark is Bath; but this circumstance gives no clue to guess at the author from that place of migratory inhabitants. One reason which has accelerated my deci sion to give it insertion, I must not conceal. It saves me from writing a paper myself at a moment of much hurry, and many other engagements.

June 12, 1807.