have　never　thought　that　the　world　lost　more　in　the　〃marvellous　boy；〃
  Chatterton；　than　a　very　ingenious　imitator　of　obscure　and　antiquated
  dulness。　Where　he　becomes　original　（as　it　is　called）；　the　interest　of
  ingenuity　ceases　and　he　becomes　stupid。　Kirke　White's　promises　were
  indorsed　by　the　respectable　name　of　Mr。　Southey；　but　surely　with　no
  authority　from　Apollo。　They　have　the　merit　of　a　traditional　piety；
  which　to　our　mind；　if　uttered　at　all；　had　been　less　objectionable　in
  the　retired　closet　of　a　diary；　and　in　the　sober　raiment　of　prose。
  They　do　not　clutch　hold　of　the　memory　with
  the　drowning　pertinacity　of　Watts；　neither　have　they　the　interest　of
  his　occasional　simple；　lucky　beauty。　Bums　having　fortunately　been
  rescued　by　his　humble　station　from　the　contaminating　society　of　the
  〃Best　models；〃　wrote　well　and　naturally　from　the　first。　Had　he　been
  unfortunate　enough　to　have　had　an　educated　taste；　we　should　have　had
  a　series　of　poems　from　which；　as　from　his　letters；　we　could　sift　here
  and　there　a　kernel　from　the　mass　of　chaff。　Coleridge's　youthful
  efforts　give　no　promise　whatever　of　that　poetical　genius　which
  produced　at　once　the　wildest；　tenderest；　most　original　and　most
  purely　imaginative　poems　of　modem　times。　Byron's　〃Hours　of　Idleness〃
  would　never　find　a　reader　except　from　an　intrepid　and　indefatigable
  curiosity。　In　Wordsworth's　first　preludings　there　is　but　a　dim
  foreboding　of　the　creator　of　an　era。　From　Southey's　early　poems；　a
  safer　augury　might　have　been　drawn。　They　show　the　patient
  investigator；　the　close　student　of　history；　and　the　unwearied
  explorer　of　the　beauties　of　predecessors；　but　they　give　no　assurances
  of　a　man　who　should　add　aught　to　stock　of　household　words；　or　to　the
  rarer　and　more　sacred　delights　of　the　fireside　or　the　arbor。　The
  earliest　specimens　of　Shelley's　poetic　mind　already；　also；　give
  tokens　of　that　ethereal　sublimation　in　which　the　spirit　seems　to　soar
  above　the　regions　of　words；　but　leaves　its　body；　the　verse；　to　be
  entombed；　without　hope　of　resurrection；　in　a　mass　of　them。　Cowley　is
  generally　instanced　as　a　wonder　of　precocity。　But　his　early
  insipidities　show　only　a　capacity　for　rhyming　and　for　the　metrical
  arrangement　of　certain　conventional　combinations　of　words；　a　capacity
  wholly　dependent　on　a　delicate　physical　organization；　and　an　unhappy
  memory。　An　early　poem　is　only　remarkable　when　it　displays　an　effort
  of　_reason；　_and　the　rudest　verses　in　which　we　can　trace　some
  conception　of　the　ends　of　poetry；　are　worth　all　the　miracles　of
  smooth　juvenile　versification。　A　school…boy；　one　would　say；　might
  acquire　the　regular　see…saw　of　Pope　merely　by　an　association　with　the
  motion　of　the　play…ground　tilt。
  Mr。　Poe's　early　productions　show　that　he　could　see　through　the　verse
  to　the　spirit　beneath；　and　that　he　already　had　a　feeling　that　all　the
  life　and　grace　of　the　one　must　depend　on　and　be　modulated　by　the　will
  of　the　other。　We　call　them　the　most　remarkable　boyish　poems　that　we
  have　ever　read。　We　know　of　none　that　can　compare　with　them　for
  maturity　of　purpose；　and　a　nice　understanding　of　the　effects　of
  language　and　metre。　Such　pieces　are　only　valuable　when　they　display
  what　we　can　only　express　by　the　contradictory　phrase　of　_innate
  experience。　_We　copy　one　of　the　shorter　poems；　written　when　the
  author　was　only　fourteen。　There　is　a　little　dimness　in　the　filling
  up；　but　the　grace　and　symmetry　of　the　outline　are　such　as　few　poets
  ever　attain。　There　is　a　smack　of　ambrosia　about　it。
  TO　HELEN
  Helen；　thy　beauty　is　to　me
  Like　those　Nicean　barks　of　yore；
  That　gently；　o'er　a　perfumed　sea；
  The　weary；　way…worn　wanderer　bore
  To　his　own　native　shore。
  On　desperate　seas　long　wont　to　roam；
  Thy　hyacinth　hair；　thy　classic　face；
  Thy　Naiad　airs　have　brought　me　home
  To　the　glory　that　was　Greece
  And　the　grandeur　that　was　Rome。
  Lo！　in　yon　brilliant　window…niche
  How　statue…like　I　see　thee　stand！
  The　agate　lamp　within　thy　hand；
  Ah　！　Psyche；　from　the　regions　which
  Are　Holy　Land　！
  It　is　the　tendency　of_　_the　young　poet　that　impresses　us。　Here　is　no
  〃withering　scorn；〃　no　heart　〃blighted〃　ere　it　has　safely　got　into　its
  teens；　none　of　the　drawing…room　sansculottism　which　Byron　had　brought
  into　vogue。　All　is　limpid　and　serene；　with　a　pleasant　dash　of　the
  Greek　Helicon　in　it。　The　melody　of　the　whole；　too；　is　remarkable。　It
  is　not　of　that　kind　which　can　be　demonstrated　arithmetically　upon　the
  tips　of　the　fingers。　It　is　of　that　finer　sort　which　the　inner　ear
  alone　_can　_estimate。　It　seems　simple；　like　a　Greek　column；　because
  of　its　perfection。　In　a　poem　named　〃Ligeia；〃　under　which　title　he
  intended　to　personify　the　music　of　nature；；　our　boy…poet　gives　us　the
  following　exquisite　picture：
  Ligeia　！　Ligeia　！
  My　beautiful　one；
  Whose　harshest　idea
  Will　to　melody　run；
  Say；　is　it　thy　will；
  On　the　breezes　to　toss；
  Or；　capriciously　still；
  Like　the　lone　albatross；
  Incumbent　on　night；
  As　she　on　the　air；
  To　keep　watch　with　delight
  On　the　harmony　there？
  John　Neal；　himself　a　man　of　genius；　and　whose　lyre　has　been　too
  long　capriciously　silent；　appreciated　the　high　merit　of　these　and
  similar　passages；　and　drew　a　proud　horoscope　for　their　author。
  Mr。　Poe　had　that　indescribable　something　which　men　have　agreed　to
  call　_genius。　_No　man　could　ever　tell　us　precisely　what　it　is；　and
  yet　there　is　none　who　is　not　inevitably　aware　of　its　presence　and　its
  power。　Let　talent　writhe　and　contort　itself　as　it　may；　it　has　no　such
  magnetism。　Larger　of　bone　and　sinew　it　may　be；　but　the　wings　are
  wanting。　Talent　sticks　fast　to　earth；　and　its　most　perfect　works　have
  still　one…　foot　of　clay。　Genius　claims　kindred　with　the　very　workings
  of　Nature　herself；　so　that　a　sunset　shall　seem　like　a　quotation　from
  Dante；　and　if　Shakespeare　be　read　in　the　very　presence　of　the　sea
  itself；　his　verses　shall　but　seem　nobler　for　the　sublime　criticism　of
  ocean。　Talent　may　make　friends　for　itself；　but　only　genius　can　give
  to　its　creations　the　divine　power　of　winning　love　and　veneration。
  Enthusiasm　cannot　cling　to　what　itself　is　unenthusiastic；　nor　will　he
  ever　have　disciples　who　has　not　himself　impulsive　zeal　enough　to　be　a
  disciple。　Great　wits　are　allied　to　madness　only　inasmuch　as　they　are
  possessed　and　carried　away　by　their　demon；　While　talent　keeps　him；　as
  Paracelsus　did；　securely　prisoned　in　the　pommel　of　his　sword。　To　the
  eye　of　genius；　the　veil　of　the　spiritual　world　is　ever　rent　asunder
  that　it　may　perceive　the　ministers　of　good　and　evil　who　throng
  continually　around　it。　No　man　of　mere　talent　ever　flung　his　inkstand
  at　the　devil。
  When　we　say　that　Mr。　Poe　had　genius；　we　do　not　mean　to　say　that　he
  has　produced　evidence　of　the　highest。　But　to　say　that　he　possesses　it
  at　all　is　to　say　that　he　needs　only　zeal；　industry；　and　a　reverence
  for　the　trust　reposed　in　him；　to　achieve　the　proudest　triumphs　and
  the　greenest　laurels。　If　we　may　believe　the　Longinuses；　and
  Aristotles　of　our　newspapers；　we　have　quite　too　many　geniuses　of　the
  loftiest　order　to　render　a　place　among　them　at　all　desirable；　whether
  for　its　hardness　of　attainment　or　its　seclusion。　The　highest　peak　of
  our　Parnassus　is；　according　to　these　gentlemen；　by　far　the　most
  thickly　settled　portion　of　the　country；　a　circumstance　which　must
  make　it　an　uncomfortable　residence　for　individuals　of　a　poetical
  temperament；　if　love　of　solitude　be；　as　immemorial　tradition　asserts；
  a　necessary　part　of　their　idiosyncrasy。
  Mr。　Poe　has　two　of　the　prime　qualities　of　genius；　a　faculty　of
  vigorous　yet　minute　analysis；　and　a　wonderful　fecundity　of
  imagination。　The　first　of　these　faculties　is　as　needful　to　the　artist
  in　words；　as　a　knowledge　of　anatomy　is　to　the　artist　in　colors　or　in
  stone。　This　enables　him　to　conceive　truly；　to　maintain　a　proper
  relation　of　parts；　and　to　draw　a　correct　outline；　while　the　second
  groups；　fills　up　and　colors。　Both　of　these　Mr。　Poe　has　displayed　with
  singular　distinctness　in　his　prose　works；　the　last　predominating　in
  his　earlier　tales；　and　the　first　in　his　later　ones。　In　judging　of　the
  merit　of　an　author；　and　assigning　him　his　niche　among　our　household
  gods；　we　have　a　right　to　regard　him　from　our　own　point　of　view；　and
  to　measure　him　by　our　own　standard。　But；　in　estimating　the　amount　of
  power　displayed　in　his　works；　we　must　be　governed　by　his　own　design；
  and　placing　them　by　the　side　of　his　own　ideal；　find　how　much　is
  wanting。　We　differ　from　Mr。　Poe　in　his　opinions　of　the　objects　of
  art。　He　esteems　that　object　to　be　the　creation　of　Beauty；　and　perhaps
  it　is　only　in　the　definition　of　that　word　that　we　disagree　with　him。
  But　in　what　we　shall　say　of　his　writings；　we　shall　take　his　own
  standard　as　our　guide。　The　temple　of　the　god　of　song　is　equally。
  accessible　from　every　side；　and　there　is　room　enough　in　it　for　all
  who　bring　offerings；　or　seek　in　oracle。
  In　his　tales；　Mr。　Poe　has　chosen　to　exhibit　his　power　chiefly　in　that
  dim　region　which　stretches　from　the　very　utmost　limits　of　the
  probable　into　the　weird　confines　of　superstition　and　unreality。　He
  combines　in　a　very　remarkable　manner　two　fac