How cheap must be the material of
which so many men are made.
The wind blew steadily down the stream, so that we kept our sails
set, and lost not a moment of the forenoon by delays, but from
early morning until noon were continually dropping downward.
With our hands on the steering-paddle, which was thrust deep into
the river, or bending to the oar, which indeed we rarely
relinquished, we felt each palpitation in the veins of our steed,
and each impulse of the wings which drew us above. The current
of our thoughts made as sudden bends as the river, which was
continually opening new prospects to the east or south, but we
are aware that rivers flow most rapidly and shallowest at these
points. The steadfast shores never once turned aside for us, but
still trended as they were made; why then should we always turn
aside for them?
A man cannot wheedle nor overawe his Genius. It requires to be
conciliated by nobler conduct than the world demands or can
appreciate. These winged thoughts are like birds, and will not
be handled; even hens will not let you touch them like
quadrupeds. Nothing was ever so unfamiliar and startling to a
man as his own thoughts.
To the rarest genius it is the most expensive to succumb and
conform to the ways of the world. Genius is the worst of lumber,
if the poet would float upon the breeze of popularity. The bird
of paradise is obliged constantly to fly against the wind, lest
its gay trappings, pressing close to its body, impede its free
movements.
He is the best sailor who can steer within the fewest points of
the wind, and extract a motive power out of the greatest
obstacles. Most begin to veer and tack as soon as the wind
changes from aft, and as within the tropics it does not blow from
all points of the compass, there are some harbors which they can
never reach.
The poet is no tender slip of fairy stock, who requires peculiar
institutions and edicts for his defence, but the toughest son of
earth and of Heaven, and by his greater strength and endurance
his fainting companions will recognize the God in him. It is the
worshippers of beauty, after all, who have done the real pioneer
work of the world.
The poet will prevail to be popular in spite of his faults, and
in spite of his beauties too. He will hit the nail on the head,
and we shall not know the shape of his hammer. He makes us free
of his hearth and heart, which is greater than to offer one the
freedom of a city.
Great men, unknown to their generation, have their fame among the
great who have preceded them, and all true worldly fame subsides
from their high estimate beyond the stars.
