It these memorable twenty lines--memorable by the truth of the thinking, and the spirited or splendid felicity of expression--the subject of the rules delivered is for two verses--CRITICISM PROPER, that is to say, the faculty of judging in the mind of the critic, who is not necessarily a poet, and whose function in the world is the judgment of the work produced and complete, and exposed for free censure.
"First fathom nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same."
This general reference to the fountain-head of law and of power, is spoken to the critic--the writer of critiques--the public censurer--the man of judgment.
For the next four lines, the creative power, and the presiding criticism in the mind of the poet, and the judicial criticism in the mind of the official critic, are all three in hand together.
"Unerring NATURE, still divinely bright, One clear, unchanged, and universal light; Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of art."
Warburton has remarked, that the two last verses run parallel to one another, inasmuch as "source" respects "life," the ever-welling--"end" reflects "force," for the force of any thing arises from its being directed to its end--and "test" looks back to "beauty," for every thing acquires beauty by its being reduced to its true standard. Very well said.
But in what sense is nature the "end" of art? Warburton explains the word, by "the design of poetry being to convey knowledge of nature in the most agreeable manner." Might not one think that nature is this "end" rather, inasmuch as art aims at reaching nature in our bosoms? In this acceptation, "end" and "force" would precisely belong to one another.
In the mean time, "life" and "source" distinctly concern the creative power in the soul of the poet; art's "end" must be known, and fixedly looked at, as the lodestar by the mariner, by presiding criticism in the same soul; and the "test" of art must evidently be applied by the critic discharging his peculiar functions; whilst "unerring nature," imaged as the sun, enlightens, of course, both poet and critic.
And now the critic, who was at the outset of the strain--six verses ago--alone in contemplation, is dismissed for good or for ill. The poet is on Pegasus's back; the lashing out of a heel kicks the unfortunate devil to the devil; and away we go.