the words of Bacon, "makes men witty," and is unquestionably a "criticism of life"; but can it be said to teach—as Wordsworth intended that his poetry should? Well, when Mrs Barbauld had the temerity to charge "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" with two grave faults; first, that it was improbable, and next, that it had no moral; Coleridge cheerfully pleaded guilty to the first charge, while, as for the other, "I told her that ... it had too much—that is, for a work of pure imagination." Will it satisfy "serious" inquirers if it be suggested that these poems of Brooke's are manifestations of the intellectual imagination? Probably not. They demand of a poet a definite and explicit philosophy. They desire of him a confirmation, if not of their own faith, then of his. But it cannot be too clearly recognised that the faith of a poet is expressed in all that he writes. He cannot, either as a man or as a poet, live without faith; and never does. A few lovely words about lovely things is an expression of faith: so, too, is all love, all desire for truth, all happiness. If we have such faith ourselves, if we search close enough, we shall find a poet's faith expressed implicitly throughout his work.
We must, too, be thankful for many and various mercies, the mercy, for instance (so richly con-
