and erotic delicacy in written poetry is correlative with that softness in statuary, music and the kindred arts, and even in manners and institutions, which distinguished the epoch to which I now refer.  Nor is it the poetical faculty itself, or any misapplication of it, to which this want of harmony is to be imputed.  An equal sensibility to the influence of the senses and the affections is to be found in the writings of Homer and Sophocles:  the former, especially, has clothed sensual and pathetic images with irresistible attractions.  Their superiority over these succeeding writers consists in the presence of those thoughts which belong to the inner faculties of our nature, not in the absence of those which are connected with the external:  their incomparable perfection consists in a harmony of the union of all.  It is not what the erotic poets have, but what they have not, in which their imperfection consists.  It is not inasmuch as they were poets, but inasmuch as they were not poets, that they can be considered with any plausibility as connected with the corruption of their age.  Had that corruption availed so as to extinguish in them the sensibility to pleasure, passion, and natural scenery, which is imputed to them as an imperfection, the last triumph of evil would have been achieved.  For the end of social corruption is to destroy all sensibility to pleasure; and, therefore, it is corruption.  It begins at the imagination and the intellect as at the core, and distributes itself thence as a paralysing venom, through the affections into the very appetites, until all become a torpid mass in which hardly sense survives.  At the approach of such a period, poetry ever addresses itself to those faculties which are the last to be destroyed, and its voice is heard, like the footsteps of Astraea, departing from the world.  Poetry ever communicates all the pleasure which men are capable of receiving:  it is ever still the light of life; the source of whatever of beautiful or generous or true can have place in an evil time.  It will readily be confessed that those among the luxurious citizens of Syracuse and Alexandria, who were delighted with the poems of Theocritus, were less cold, cruel, and sensual than the remnant of their tribe.  But corruption must utterly have destroyed the fabric of human society before poetry can ever cease.  The sacred links of that chain have never been entirely disjoined, which descending through the minds of many men is attached to those great minds, whence as from a magnet the invisible effluence is sent forth, which at once connects, animates, and sustains the life of all.  It is the faculty which contains within itself the seeds at once of its own and of social renovation.  And let us not circumscribe the effects of the bucolic and erotic poetry within the limits of the sensibility of those to whom it was addressed.  They may have perceived the beauty of those immortal compositions, simply as fragments and isolated portions:  those who are more finely organized, or born in a happier age, may recognize them as episodes to that great poem, which all poets, like the cooperating thoughts of one great mind, have built up since the beginning of the world.