—Epilogue to Beaumont and Fletcher’s Honest Man’s Fortune。
I read the other day some verses written by an eminent painter which were original and not conventional。 The soul always hears an admonition in such lines； let the subject be what it may。 The sentiment they instill is of more value than any thought they may contain。 To believe your own thought； to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men—that is genius。 Speak your latent conviction； and it shall be the universal sense； for the inmost in due time bees the outmost； and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment。 Familiar as the voice of the mind is to each； the highest merit we ascribe to Moses； Plato； and Milton is that they set at naught books and traditions and spoke not what men； but what they thought。 A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within more than the luster of the firmament of bards and sages。 Yet he dismisses without notice his thought； because it is his。 In every work of genius we recognize our rejected thoughts； they e back to us with a certain alienated majesty。 Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this。 They teach us to abide by our spontaneous impression with good…humored inflexibility then most when the whole cry of voices is on the other side。 Else； tomorrow a stranger will say with masterly good sense precisely what we have thought and fel