(γγ) When this takes place the invention of new metaphors, which are the exclusive product of the poetical imagination becomes for the first time a vital necessity. That in which this invention is mainly concerned consists first in transferring the phenomena, activities, and conditions of a higher level of fact in a way that illustrates the content of less important material, and in bringing to light significances of such inferior matter in the form and image which stands above them. The organic, for example, is by itself essentially of higher importance than the inorganic, and to carry forward that which has no life within, the range of vital phenomenal enhances its expression. We may illustrate this with the saying of Ferdusi: "The keenness of my sword devours the brain of the lion, and drinks the dark blood of the courageous." In a yet more enhanced degree we find the same result when that which is of Nature and sensuous is imaged, and thereby raised and ennobled in the form of spiritual phenomena. So we have such common turns of speech as "smiling fields," and "angry flood," or in the language of Calderon: "The waves sigh beneath the burden of ships." In these examples that which exclusively applies to humanity is diverted to the expression of Nature. The Latin poets use such metaphorical language often enough, as we may find in our Virgil, take the example: Quum graviter tunsis gemit area frugibus (Georg., III, 132).
Conversely and in the second place that which pertains to mind is brought in the same way more close to our powers of vision through the image of natural objects. Such fanciful presentations, however, can very readily degenerate into mere trifling and far-fetched conceits, when that which is essentially without life receives notwithstanding every appearance of individuality, and really spiritual activities are assigned to it with perfect seriousness. The Italians more especially have given themselves over to illusive trickery of this kind, and even Shakespeare is not wholly free from them, as in that passage from "Richard II" (Act V, sc. I), where he makes the King say to the Queen on parting:
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue
And in compassion weep the fire out;
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black
For the deposing of a rightful king.
(γ) Finally, if we look at the aim and interest of that which is metaphorical, the first thing which strikes us is that a word in the strict sense is an independently intelligible expression, the metaphor otherwise. The question consequently presents itself, what is the reason of this twofold means of expression, or, to put it another way, why is it that we have the metaphorical which essentially implies this division? The common explanation is that metaphors are used to give vivacity to poetical composition, and this animating effect is the ground in virtue of which Heyne, in particular, insists on their value. The vivacity consists in the support they offer to imaginative vision in the direction of clear definition, divesting the word, which is always something generalized, of its purely indefinite character, and bringing it home to sense by means of an image. No doubt a greater degree of vivacity is to be found in metaphors than in the strict expressions of ordinary speech; genuine vitality, however, is not to be sought for in metaphors, whether in isolation or combination, whose figurative plasticity, it is true, may frequently include a relation, which by good chance attaches at the same time to the expression an increased perspicuity and a higher definition, but quite as often, if every detail of the process of thought is thus figuratively emphasized in isolation, makes the whole unwieldy, overloading it thus with its emphasis on singular aspects.
The genius of metaphorical diction is consequently, as we shall have to elucidate more closely in our consideration of simile, to be regarded as responding to a need and potency of mind and the emotional life, which will not rest satisfied with that which is entirely simple, ordinary, and homely, but make an effort beyond this and over into something more recondite under the attraction which distinction offers and the impulse to co-ordinate contrasted effects. This binding together has itself again various causes, which may be notified as follows.
(αα) First, we have it for the sake of reinforcing an effect. The emotional life, under the pressure and movement of its passions, gives visible utterance to these forces by means of the piling up of sensuous image. More than this, it strives to express its own whirl and tumble, or persistence in the ideas which crowd upon it by means of a similar letting itself go into phenomena cognate with such a condition, and its own free movement among images of the greatest variety. In Calderon's supplication to the Cross Julia utters the following words when she looks upon the dead body of her only just deceased brother, and her lover, Eusebio, the man who has killed Lisardo, stands before her:
O that I might close for ever
Eyes before this blood here guiltless,
Blood which cries for vengeance with its
Flooding stream of purple flowers!
Would that I could deem thee pardoned
In the rush of tears that blind thee:
Wounds and eyes are mouths which swallow
Lies which seek admittance never, etc.
With a still more vehement burst of passion Eusebio starts back from the sight of her, when Julia finally is for surrendering herself to him, as he exclaims:
Flaming sparks thine eyeballs scatter;
Every sigh is breath that scorches;
Every word is a volcano,
Every hair a scribbled lightning,
Every word is Death, and every
Soft caress is Hell's own anguish;
Such the horror stirs within me
As I see—O awful symbol,
Crucifix thy bosom carries.
The human soul on the swell of its emotion keeps adding image on image to that immediately confronting it, and with all this impetuous seeking to and fro for new means of expression barely lays to rest its own tumult.