Part 6
IV. "IF the wide eye the wavy lawns explores, The bending woodlands, or the winding shores, Hills, whose green sides with soft protuberance rise, Or the blue concave of the vaulted skies;-- 210 Or scans with nicer gaze the pearly swell Of spiral volutes round the twisted shell; Or undulating sweep, whose graceful turns Bound the smooth surface of Etrurian urns, When on fine forms the waving lines impress'd Give the nice curves, which swell the female breast; The countless joys the tender Mother pours Round the soft cradle of our infant hours, In lively trains of unextinct delight Rise in our bosoms _recognized by sight_; 220 Fond Fancy's eye recalls the form divine, And TASTE sits smiling upon Beauty's shrine.
[Footnote: _The wavy lawns_, l. 207. When the babe, soon after it is born into this cold world, is applied to its mother's bosom; its sense of perceiving warmth is first agreeably affected; next its sense of smell is delighted with the odour of her milk; then its taste is gratified by the flavour of it; afterwards the appetites of hunger and of thirst afford pleasure by the possession of their objects, and by the subsequent digestion of the aliment; and lastly, the sense of touch is delighted by the softness and smoothness of the milky fountain, the source of such variety of happiness.
All these various kinds of pleasure at length become associated with the form of the mother's breast; which the infant embraces with its hands, presses with its lips, and watches with its eyes; and thus acquires more accurate ideas of the form of its mother's bosom, than of the odour and flavour or warmth, which it perceives by its other senses. And hence at our maturer years, when any object of vision is presented to us, which by its waving or spiral lines bears any similitude to the form of the female bosom, whether it be found in a landscape with soft gradations of rising and descending surface, or in the forms of some antique vases, or in other works of the pencil or the chisel, we feel a general glow of delight, which seems to influence all our senses; and if the object be not too large, we experience an attraction to embrace it with our arms, and to salute it with our lips, as we did in our early infancy the bosom of our mother. And thus we find, according to the ingenious idea of Hogarth, that the waving lines of beauty were originally taken from the temple of Venus.]
"Where Egypt's pyramids gigantic stand, And stretch their shadows o'er the shuddering sand; Or where high rocks o'er ocean's dashing floods Wave high in air their panoply of woods; Admiring TASTE delights to stray beneath With eye uplifted, and forgets to breathe; Or, as aloft his daring footsteps climb, Crests their high summits with his arm sublime. 230
[Footnote: _With his arm sublime_, l. 230. Objects of taste have been generally divided into the beautiful, the sublime, and the new; and lately to these have been added the picturesque. The beautiful so well explained in Hogarth's analysis of beauty, consists of curved lines and smooth surfaces, as expressed in the preceding note; any object larger than usual, as a very large temple or a very large mountain, gives us the idea of sublimity; with which is often confounded the terrific, and the melancholic: what is now termed picturesque includes objects, which are principally neither sublime nor beautiful, but which by their variety and intricacy joined with a due degree of regularity or uniformity convey to the mind an agreeable sentiment of novelty. Many other agreeable sentiments may be excited by visible objects, thus to the sublime and beautiful may be added the terrific, tragic, melancholic, artless, &c. while novelty superinduces a charm upon them all. See Additional Note XIII.]
"Where mouldering columns mark the lingering wreck Of Thebes, Palmyra, Babylon, Balbec; The prostrate obelisk, or shatter'd dome, Uprooted pedestal, and yawning tomb, On loitering steps reflective TASTE surveys With folded arms and sympathetic gaze; Charm'd with poetic Melancholy treads O'er ruin'd towns and desolated meads; Or rides sublime on Time's expanded wings, And views the fate of ever-changing things. 240
[Footnote: _Poetic melancholy treads_, l. 237. The pleasure arising from the contemplation of the ruins of ancient grandeur or of ancient happiness, and here termed poetic melancholy, arises from a combination of the painful idea of sorrow with the pleasurable idea of the grandeur or happiness of past times; and becomes very interesting to us by fixing our attention more strongly on that grandeur and happiness, as the passion of Pity mentioned in the succeeding note is a combination of the painful idea of sorrow with the pleasurable one of beauty, or of virtue.]
"When Beauty's streaming eyes her woes express, Or Virtue braves unmerited distress; Love sighs in sympathy, with pain combined, And new-born Pity charms the kindred mind; The enamour'd Sorrow every cheek bedews, And TASTE impassion'd woos the tragic Muse.
[Footnote: _The tragic Muse_, l. 246. Why we are delighted with the scenical representations of Tragedy, which draw tears from our eyes, has been variously explained by different writers. The same distressful circumstance attending an ugly or wicked person affects us with grief or disgust; but when distress occurs to a beauteous or virtuous person, the pleasurable idea of beauty or of virtue becomes mixed with the painful one of sorrow and the passion of Pity is produced, which is a combination of love or esteem with sorrow; and becomes highly interesting to us by fixing our attention more intensely on the beauteous or virtuous person.
Other distressful scenes have been supposed to give pleasure to the spectator from exciting a comparative idea of his own happiness, as when a shipwreck is viewed by a person safe on shore, as mentioned by Lucretius, L. 3. But these dreadful situations belong rather to the terrible, or the horrid, than to the tragic; and may be objects of curiosity from their novelty, but not of Taste, and must suggest much more pain than pleasure.]
"The rush-thatch'd cottage on the purple moor, Where ruddy children frolic round the door, The moss-grown antlers of the aged oak, The shaggy locks that fringe the colt unbroke, 250 The bearded goat with nimble eyes, that glare Through the long tissue of his hoary hair;-- As with quick foot he climbs some ruin'd wall, And crops the ivy, which prevents its fall;-- With rural charms the tranquil mind delight, And form a picture to the admiring sight. While TASTE with pleasure bends his eye surprised In modern days at Nature unchastised.
[Footnote: _Nature unchastised_, l. 258. In cities or their vicinity, and even in the cultivated parts of the country we rarely see undisguised nature; the fields are ploughed, the meadows mown, the shrubs planted in rows for hedges, the trees deprived of their lower branches, and the animals, as horses, dogs, and sheep, are mutilated in respect to their tails or ears; such is the useful or ill-employed activity of mankind! all which alterations add to the formality of the soil, plants, trees, or animals; whence when natural objects are occasionally presented to us, as an uncultivated forest and its wild inhabitants, we are not only amused with greater variety of form, but are at the same time enchanted by the charm of novelty, which is a less degree of Surprise, already spoken of in note on l. 145 of this Canto.]
"The GENIUS-FORM, on silver slippers born, With fairer dew-drops gems the rising morn; 260 Sheds o'er meridian skies a softer light, And decks with brighter pearls the brow of night; With finer blush the vernal blossom glows, With sweeter breath enamour'd Zephyr blows, The limpid streams with gentler murmurs pass, And gayer colours tinge the watery glass, Charm'd round his steps along the enchanted groves Flit the fine forms of Beauties, Graces, Loves.
V. "Alive, each moment of the transient hour, When Rest accumulates sensorial power, 270 The impatient Senses, goaded to contract, Forge new ideas, changing as they act; And, in long streams dissever'd, or concrete In countless tribes, the fleeting forms repeat. Which rise excited in Volition's trains, Or link the sparkling rings of Fancy's chains; Or, as they flow from each translucent source, Pursue Association's endless course.
[Footnote: _When rest accumulates_, l. 270. The accumulation of the spirit of animation, when those parts of the system rest, which are usually in motion, produces a disagreeable sensation. Whence the pain of cold and of hunger, and the irksomeness of a continued attitude, and of an indolent life: and hence the propensity to action in those confined animals, which have been accustomed to activity, as is seen in the motions of a squirrel in a cage; which uses perpetual exertion to exhaust a part of its accumulated sensorial power. This is one source of our general propensity to
## action; another perhaps arises from our curiosity or
expectation of novelty mentioned in the note on l. 145. of this canto.
But the immediate cause of our propensity to imitation above that of other animals arises from the greater facility, with which by the sense of touch we acquire the ideas of the outlines of objects, and afterwards in consequence by the sense of sight; this seems to have been observed by Aristotle, who calls man, "the imitative animal;" see Zoonomia, Vol. I. Sect. XXII.]
"Hence when the inquiring hands with contact fine Trace on hard forms the circumscribing line; 280 Which then the language of the rolling eyes From distant scenes of earth and heaven supplies; Those clear ideas of the touch and sight Rouse the quick sense to anguish or delight; Whence the fine power of IMITATION springs, And apes the outlines of external things; With ceaseless action to the world imparts All moral virtues, languages, and arts. First the charm'd Mind mechanic powers collects, Means for some end, and causes of effects; 290 Then learns from other Minds their joys and fears, Contagious smiles and sympathetic tears.
[Footnote: _All moral virtues_, l. 288. See the sequel of this canto l. 453 on sympathy; and l. 331 on language; and the subsequent lines on the arts of painting and architecture.]
"What one fine stimulated Sense discerns, Another Sense by IMITATION learns.-- So in the graceful dance the step sublime Learns from the ear the concordance of Time. So, when the pen of some young artist prints Recumbent Nymphs in TITIAN'S living tints; The glowing limb, fair cheek, and flowing hair, Respiring bosom, and seductive air, 300 He justly copies with enamour'd sigh From Beauty's image pictured on his eye.
[Footnote: _Another sense_, l. 294. As the part of the organs of touch or of sight, which is stimulated into action by a tangible or visible object, must resemble in figure at least the figure of that object, as it thus constitutes an idea; it may be said to imitate the figure of that object; and thus imitation may be esteemed coeval with the existence both of man and other animals: but this would confound perception with imitation; which latter is better defined from the
## actions of one sense copying those of another.]
"Thus when great ANGELO in wondering Rome Fix'd the vast pillars of Saint Peter's dome, Rear'd rocks on rocks sublime, and hung on high A new Pantheon in the affrighted sky. Each massy pier, now join'd and now aloof, The figured architraves, and vaulted roof, Ailes, whose broad curves gigantic ribs sustain, Where holy echoes chant the adoring strain; 310 The central altar, sacred to the Lord, Admired by Sages, and by Saints ador'd, Whose brazen canopy ascends sublime On spiral columns unafraid of Time, Were first by Fancy in ethereal dyes Plann'd on the rolling tablets of his eyes; And his true hand with imitation fine Traced from his Retina the grand design.
[Footnote: _Thus when great Angelo_, l. 303. The origin of this propensity to imitation has not been deduced from any known principle; when any action presents itself to the view of a child, as of whetting a knife, or threading a needle; the parts of this action in respect of time, motion, figure, are imitated by parts of the retina of his eye; to perform this action therefore with his hands is easier to him than to invent any new action; because it consists in repeating with another set of fibres, viz. with the moving muscles, what he had just performed by some parts of the retina; just as in dancing we transfer the times of the motions from the actions of the auditory nerves to the muscles of the limbs. Imitation therefore consists of repetition, which is the easiest kind of animal action; as the ideas or motions become presently associated together; which adds to the facility of their production; as shown in Zoonomia, Vol. I. Sect. XXII. 2.
It should be added, that as our ideas, when we perceive external objects, are believed to consist in the actions of the immediate organs of sense in consequence of the stimulus of those objects; so when we think of external objects, our ideas are believed to consist in the repetitions of the
## actions of the immediate organs of sense, excited by the
other sensorial powers of volition, sensation, or association.]
"The Muse of MIMICRY in every age With silent language charms the attentive stage; 320 The Monarch's stately step, and tragic pause, The Hero bleeding in his country's cause, O'er her fond child the dying Mother's tears, The Lover's ardor, and the Virgin's fears; The tittering Nymph, that tries her comic task, Bounds on the scene, and peeps behind her mask, The Punch and Harlequin, and graver throng, That shake the theatre with dance and song, With endless trains of Angers, Loves, and Mirths, Owe to the Muse of Mimicry their births. 330
[Footnote: _The Muse of Mimicry_, l. 319. Much of the pleasure received from the drawings of flowers finely finished, or of portraits, is derived from their imitation or resemblance of the objects or persons which they represent. The same occurs in the pleasure we receive from mimicry on the stage; we are surprised at the accuracy of its enacted resemblance. Some part of the pleasure received from architecture, as when we contemplate the internal structure of gothic temples, as of King's College chapel in Cambridge, or of Lincoln Cathedral, may arise also from their imitation or resemblance of those superb avenues of large trees, which were formerly appropriated to religious ceremonies.]
"Hence to clear images of form belong The sculptor's statue, and the poet's song, The painter's landscape, and the builder's plan, And IMITATION marks the mind of Man.
[Footnote: _Imitation marks_, l. 334. Many other curious instances of one part of the animal system imitating another part of it, as in some contagious diseases; and also of some animals imitating each other, are given in Zoonomia, Vol. I. Sect. XXII. 3. To which may be added, that this propensity to imitation not only appears in the actions of children, but in all the customs and fashions of the world; many thousands tread in the beaten paths of others, who precede or accompany them, for one who traverses regions of his own discovery.]
VI. "WHEN strong desires or soft sensations move The astonish'd Intellect to rage or love; Associate tribes of fibrous motions rise, Flush the red cheek, or light the laughing eyes. Whence ever-active Imitation finds The ideal trains, that pass in kindred minds; 340 Her mimic arts associate thoughts excite And the first LANGUAGE enters at the sight.
[Footnote: _And the first Language_, l. 342. There are two ways by which we become acquainted with the passions of others: first, by having observed the effects of them, as of fear or anger, on our own bodies, we know at sight when others are under the influence of these affections. So children long before they can speak, or understand the language of their parents, may be frightened by an angry countenance, or soothed by smiles and blandishments.
Secondly, when we put ourselves into the attitude that any passion naturally occasions, we soon in some degree acquire that passion; hence when those that scold indulge themselves in loud oaths and violent actions of the arms, they increase their anger by the mode of expressing themselves; and, on the contrary, the counterfeited smile of pleasure in disagreeable company soon brings along with it a portion of the reality, as is well illustrated by Mr. Burke. (Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful.)
These are natural signs by which we understand each other, and on this slender basis is built all human language. For without some natural signs no artificial ones could have been invented or understood, as is very ingeniously observed by Dr. Reid. (Inquiry into the Human Mind.)]
"Thus jealous quails or village-cocks inspect Each other's necks with stiffen'd plumes erect; Smit with the wordless eloquence, they know The rival passion of the threatening foe. So when the famish'd wolves at midnight howl, Fell serpents hiss, or fierce hyenas growl; Indignant Lions rear their bristling mail, And lash their sides with undulating tail. 350 Or when the Savage-Man with clenched fist Parades, the scowling champion of the list; With brandish'd arms, and eyes that roll to know Where first to fix the meditated blow; Association's mystic power combines Internal passions with external signs.
"From these dumb gestures first the exchange began Of viewless thought in bird, and beast, and man; And still the stage by mimic art displays Historic pantomime in modern days; 360 And hence the enthusiast orator affords Force to the feebler eloquence of words.
"Thus the first LANGUAGE, when we frown'd or smiled, Rose from the cradle, Imitation's child; Next to each thought associate sound accords, And forms the dulcet symphony of words; The tongue, the lips articulate; the throat With soft vibration modulates the note; Love, pity, war, the shout, the song, the prayer Form quick concussions of elastic air. 370
"Hence the first accents bear in airy rings The vocal symbols of ideal things, Name each nice change appulsive powers supply To the quick sense of touch, or ear or eye. Or in fine traits abstracted forms suggest Of Beauty, Wisdom, Number, Motion, Rest; Or, as within reflex ideas move, Trace the light steps of Reason, Rage, or Love. The next new sounds adjunctive thoughts recite, As hard, odorous, tuneful, sweet, or white. 380 The next the fleeting images select Of action, suffering, causes and effect; Or mark existence, with the march sublime O'er earth and ocean of recording TIME.
[Footnote: _Hence the first accents_, l. 371. Words were originally the signs or names of individual ideas; but in all known languages many of them by changing their terminations express more than one idea, as in the cases of nouns, and the moods and tenses of verbs. Thus a whip suggests a single idea of that instrument; but "to whip," suggests an idea of
## action, joined with that of the instrument, and is then
called a verb; and "to be whipped," suggests an idea of being acted upon or suffering. Thus in most languages two ideas are suggested by one word by changing its termination; as amor, love; amare, to love; amari, to be loved.
Nouns are the names of the ideas of things, first as they are received by the stimulus of objects, or as they are afterwards repeated; secondly, they are names of more abstracted ideas, which do not suggest at the same time the external objects, by which they were originally excited; or thirdly, of the operations of our minds, which are termed reflex ideas by metaphysical writers; or lastly, they are the names of our ideas of parts or properties of objects; and are termed by grammarians nouns adjective.
Verbs are also in reality names of our ideas of things, or nouns, with the addition of another idea to them, as of
## acting or suffering; or of more than one other annexed idea,
as of time, and also of existence. These with the numerous abbreviations, so well illustrated by Mr. Horne Tooke in his Diversions of Purley, make up the general theory of language, which consists of the symbols of ideas represented by vocal or written words; or by parts of those words, as their terminations; or by their disposition in respect to their order or succession; as further explained in Additional Note XIV.]
"The GIANT FORM on Nature's centre stands, And waves in ether his unnumber'd hands; Whirls the bright planets in their silver spheres, And the vast sun round other systems steers; Till the last trump amid the thunder's roar Sound the dread Sentence "TIME SHALL BE NO MORE!"
"Last steps Abbreviation, bold and strong, 391 And leads the volant trains of words along; With sweet loquacity to HERMES springs, And decks his forehead and his feet with wings.
VII. "As the soft lips and pliant tongue are taught With other minds to interchange the thought; And sound, the symbol of the sense, explains In parted links the long ideal trains; From clear conceptions of external things The facile power of Recollection springs. 400
[Footnote: _In parted links_, l. 398. As our ideas consist of successive trains of the motions, or changes of figure, of the extremities of the nerves of one or more of our senses, as of the optic or auditory nerves; these successive trains of motion, or configuration, are in common life divided into many links, to each of which a word or name is given, and it is called an idea. This chain of ideas may be broken into more or fewer links, or divided in different parts of it, by the customs of different people. Whence the meanings of the words of one language cannot always be exactly expressed by those of another; and hence the acquirement of different languages in their infancy may affect the modes of thinking and reasoning of whole nations, or of different classes of society; as the words of them do not accurately suggest the same ideas, or parts of ideal trains; a circumstance which has not been sufficiently analysed.]
"Whence REASON'S empire o'er the world presides, And man from brute, and man from man divides; Compares and measures by imagined lines Ellipses, circles, tangents, angles, sines; Repeats with nice libration, and decrees In what each differs, and in what agrees; With quick Volitions unfatigued selects Means for some end, and causes of effects; All human science worth the name imparts, And builds on Nature's base the works of Arts. 410
[Footnote: _Whence Reason's empire_, l. 401. The facility of the use of the voluntary power, which is owing to the possession of the clear ideas acquired by our superior sense of touch, and afterwards of vision, distinguishes man from brutes, and has given him the empire of the world, with the power of improving nature by the exertions of art.
Reasoning is that operation of the sensorium by which we excite two or many tribes of ideas, and then reexcite the ideas in which they differ or correspond. If we determine this difference, it is called judgment; if we in vain endeavour to determine it, it is called doubting.
If we reexcite the ideas in which they differ, it is called distinguishing. If we reexcite those in which they correspond, it is called comparing.]