* * * *
"Blake has not been understood. He will continue not to be understood," is Mr. Jack Lindsay's pessimistic commen- tary on the probable _result of his own little book—William Blake (Fanfrolico Press. 3s. 6d.). No simple analysis will yield us the truth about Blake, and, to do Mr. Lindsay's examination justice, his is very far from being such, as he makes an attempt to define "a passionate vision of life in terms dictated by that vision's unity," whatever that may mean. But to explain' all of Blake is rather like trying to solve a puzzle devised by a person under the influence of an
hypnotic spell, and, as Mr. Lindsay says himself, the anatomize- tion of an intellect is " a wild, dangerous,' and infinite process."
May we not leave analysis alone, and say with Keats :—
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know " * * *
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