I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me?


The thought, the diction, the syntax, might all occur in prose.
Yet when once the stamp of poetry has been put upon a cry that is
as old as humanity, prose desists from rivalry, and is content to
quote. Some of the greatest prose-writers have not disdained the
help of these borrowed graces for the crown of their fabric. In
this way De Quincey widens the imaginative range of his prose, and
sets back the limits assigned to prose diction. So too, Charles
Lamb, interweaving the stuff of experience with phrases quoted or
altered from the poets, illuminates both life and poetry, letting
his sympathetic humour play now on the warp of the texture, and now
on the woof. The style of Burke furnishes a still better example,
for the spontaneous evolution of his prose might be thought to
forbid the inclusion of borrowed fragments. Yet whenever he is
deeply stirred, memories of Virgil, Milton, or the English Bible
rise to his aid, almost as if strong emotion could express itself
in no other language. Even the poor invectives of political
controversy gain a measure of dignity from the skilful application
of some famous line; the touch of the poet's sincerity rests on
them for a moment, and seems to lend them an alien splendour. It
is like the blessing of a priest, invoked by the pious, or by the
worldly, for the good success of whatever business they have in
hand. Poetry has no temporal ends to serve, no livelihood to earn,
and is under no temptation to cog and lie: wherefore prose pays
respect to that loftier calling, and that more unblemished
sincerity.