It is strictly the language of the imagination; and the
imagination is that faculty which represents objects, not as they are
in themselves, but as they are moulded by other thoughts and feelings,
into an infinite variety of shapes and combinations of power. This
language is not the less true to nature, because it is false in point
of fact; but so much the more true and natural, if it conveys the
impression which the object under the influence of passion makes on
the mind. Let an object, for instance, be presented to the senses in
a state of agitation or fear, and the imagination will distort or
magnify the object, and convert it into the likeness of whatever is
most proper to encourage the fear. "Our eyes are made the fools" of
our other faculties. This is the universal law of the imagination:
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy:
Or in the night imagining some fear,
How easy is each bush suppos'd a bear!
When Iachimo says of Imogen:
---The flame o' th' taper
Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids
To see the enclosed lights--
This passionate interpretation of the motion of the flame, to accord
with the speaker's own feelings, is true poetry.
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