genius or more knowledge to support it.
Pope says, There is something in Spenser that pleases one as strongly in one's old age as it did in one's youth.
I read the Faery Queen when I was about twelve with a vast deal of delight; and I think it gave me as much when I read it over about a year or two ago.
Thomson wrote the most delightful of his poems in the measure of Spenser; Collins, Gray, and Akenside show traces of him; and in our own day his influence reappears in Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley, and Keats.
Landor is, I believe, the only poet who ever found him tedious.
Spenser's mere manner has not had so many imitators as Milton's, but no other of our poets has given an impulse, and in the right direction also, to so many and so diverse minds; above all, no other has given to so many young souls a consciousness of their wings and a delight in the use of them.
He is a standing protest against the tyranny of Commonplace, and sows the seeds of a noble discontent with prosaic view
odern poet the thrush-like improvisation, the impulsively bewitching cadences, that charm us in our Elizabethan drama and whose last warble died with Herrick; but Shelley, Tennyson, and Browning have shown that the simple pathos of their music was not irrecoverable, even if the artless poignancy of their phrase be gone beyond recal best words in the best order.
But idealization was something that Wordsworth was obliged to learn painfully.
It did not come to him naturally as to Spenser and Shelley and to Coleridge in his higher moods.
Moreover, it was in the too frequent choice of subjects incapable of being idealized without a manifest jar between theme aock of our common sympathies.
Wordsworth shows less of this finer feminine fibre of organization than one or two of his contemporaries, notably than Coleridge or Shelley; but he was a masculine thinker, and in his more characteristic poems there is always a kernel of firm conclusion from far-reaching principles that stimulates tho