Now, I venture to affirm that this view very nearly reverses the fact.  The Imagination is determined by the Feelings, and not the Feelings by the Imagination.  Intensity of feeling, emotion, or passion, is the earlier fact:  the intellect swayed and controlled by feeling, shaping forms to correspond with an existing emotional tone, is Imagination.  It was not the imaginative faculty that gave Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, and the poets generally, their great enjoyment of nature; but the love of nature, pre-existing, turned the attention and the thoughts upon nature, filling the mind as a consequence with the impressions, images, recollections of nature; out of which grew the poetic imaginings.  Imagination is a compound of intellectual power and feeling.  The intellectual power may be great, but if it is not accompanied with feeling, it will not minister to feeling; or it will minister to many feelings by turns, and to none in particular.  As far as the intellectual power of a poet goes, few men have excelled Bacon.  He had a mind stored with imagery, able to produce various and vivid illustrations of whatever thought came before him; but these illustrations touched no deep feeling; they were fresh, original, racy, fanciful, picturesque, a play of the head that never touched the heart.  The man was by nature cold; he had not the emotional depth or compass of an average Englishman.  Perhaps his strongest feeling of an enlarged or generous description was for human progress, but it did not rise to passion; there was no fervour, no fury in it.  Compare him with Shelley on the same subject, and you will see the difference between meagreness and intensity of feeling.  What intellect can be, without strong feeling, we have in Bacon; what intellect is, with strong feeling, we have in Shelley.  The feeling gives the tone to the thoughts; sets the intellect at work to find language having its own intensity, to pile up lofty and impressive circumstances; and then we have the poet, the orator, the thoughts that breathe, and the words that burn.  Bacon wrote on many impressive themes—­on Truth, on Love, on Religion, on Death, and on the Virtues in detail; he was always original, illustrative, fanciful; if intellectual means and resources could make a man feel in these things, he would have felt deeply; yet he never did.  The material of feeling is not contained in the intellect; it has a seat and a source apart.  There was nothing in mere intellectual gifts to make Byron a misanthrope:  but, given that state of the feelings, the intellect would be detained and engrossed by it; would minister to, expand, and illustrate it; and intellect so employed is Imagination.