Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons: Illustrating the Perfections of God in the Phenomena of the Year (Classic Reprint)

Excerpt from Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons: Illustrating the Perfections of God in the Phenomena of the Year

Spring has been celebrated in glowing terms by the poets of all ages; but in the climate of Britain, if we count the season by the calendar, the weather is by no means so mild and delightful, especially in the early part of this quarter of the year, as it has been painted. In Greece and Rome, in deed, which were the birth-places and nurseries of European poetry, the temperature of the air, the pure blue of the sky, the soft green of the opening leaves the thousand delicate tints of the flowers scattered so profusely over hill and valley, with 'the perfume which they exhale, and the music poured from every grove - all unite to fill every sense with enjoy ment. Wre, the descriptions of the enraptured muse are true to nature, and the inhabitants of such latitudes feel that the language of poetry is only a transcript of their own sensa tions. But it is not so in more northern climates, such as our own. Our bards, indeed, equally kindle and burn when spring is their theme; but they often glow with a borrowed warmth. Their taste and fancy, having been moulded by the Greek and Latin authors, almost unconsciously transport them to the classic ground from which their models drew their, images, causing them to breathe, as it were, the same atmosphere, and to luxuriate in the same delicious climate.

It would be more gratifying to the acumen of the critic, than pleasing to the feelings of the man of taste, to examine how much of the language and imagery of our national poetry, relative to Spring, is drawn from classic ages and classic scenery, and then to estimate what remains of direct inspira tion poured into the soul, in this changeable and backward climate, from our own earth, and sea, and sky. I have no relish for such an inquiry, though it seems to be almost forced on the mind, in comparing the 'ethereal mildness' and balmy sweets which breathe in Spring, as portrayed by the British Muse, with our actual experience of a British atmosphere, and of the vernal productions of a British soil. The real Spring of our climate can scarcely be said to be fairly set in, at least in the northern division of the island, till the commencement of summer.

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