Mr. Wordsworth, we think, has now brought the question, as to the merit of his new school of poetry, to a very fair and decisive issue.  The volumes before us are much more strongly marked by its peculiarities than any former publication of the fraternity.  In our apprehension, they are, on this very account, infinitely less interesting or meritorious; but it belongs to the public, and not to us, to decide upon their merit, and we will confess, that so strong is our conviction of their obvious inferiority, and the grounds of it, that we are willing for once to waive our right of appealing to posterity, and to take the judgment of the present generation of readers, and even of Mr. Wordsworth’s former admirers, as conclusive on this occasion.  If these volumes, which have all the benefit of the author’s former popularity, turn out to be nearly as popular as the lyrical ballads—­if they sell nearly to the same extent—­or are quoted and imitated among half as many individuals, we shall admit that Mr. Wordsworth has come much nearer the truth in his judgment of what constitutes the charm of poetry, than we had previously imagined—­and shall institute a more serious and respectful inquiry into his principles of composition than we have yet thought necessary.  On the other hand,—­if this little work, selected from the compositions of five maturer years, and written avowedly for the purpose of exalting a system, which has already excited a good deal of attention, should be generally rejected by those whose prepossessions were in its favour, there is room to hope, not only that the system itself will meet with no more encouragement, but even that the author will be persuaded to abandon a plan of writing, which defrauds his industry and talents of their natural reward.

Putting ourselves thus upon our country, we certainly look for a verdict against this publication; and have little doubt indeed of the result, upon a fair consideration of the evidence contained in these volumes.  To accelerate that result, and to give a general view of the evidence, to those into whose hands the record may not have already fallen, we must now make a few observations and extracts.

We shall not resume any of the particular discussions by which we formerly attempted to ascertain the value of the improvements which this new school has effected in poetry:  but shall lay the grounds of our opposition, for this time, a little more broadly.  The end of poetry, we take it, is to please—­and the same, we think, is strictly applicable to every metrical composition from which we receive pleasure, without any laborious exercise of the understanding.  Their pleasure may, in general, be analysed into three parts—­that which we receive from the excitement of Passion or emotion—­that which is derived from the play of Imagination, or the easy exercise of Reason—­and that which depends on the character and qualities of the Diction.  The two first are the vital and primary springs of poetical delight, and can scarcely require explanation to anyone.  The last has been alternately over-rated and undervalued by the possessors of the poetical art, and is in such low estimation with the author now before us and his associates, that it is necessary to say a few words in explanation of it.