IbL «- i^'«* •^ ^^ *•* w MIEABT ■ ^ WW* OF THE V iii COJ^YFEM.lLE ACADEMY \% IN AUGUSTA. rOUNDED 1816. This hook presented by 'V Kennebec Natural History and Antiquarian Society Presented by t:jSl^*;i^^>'?:i^S;>,it A^.i.*',-!-. .>5^42ffl!»A:i!4M^' „■ LETTERS TO A YOUNG LADY, ON A COURSE ENGLISH POETRY. BY J. AIKIN, M. D. ; . . . . Hail, ye mighty masters of the lay. Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth, Whose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay, Amused my childhood, and informed my youth : For well I know, wherever ye reside, Tliere harmony, and peace, and innocence abide. MINSTREL. Printed .it tlie Anthology Office, Boston, 1806. 57'A/V^-i5^ CONTENTS. LETTER I. p. H The design pro^iosed. Objection to fioelry as too conversant ivilh the passion of love— -considered,. ■Miture of verse, and pleasure universally deriv- ed frojn it. LETTER II p. U, The frst object, to habituate the ear to the mehdy of verse. Pofie's Pastorals : heroic measure described. Windsor Forest. Ode for St. Cecil- ia's Day : music of poetry. Choruses to Bru- tus. JLlegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady. Temple of Fame. Fable of Dry»pe t Vertwmius and Pomona^ eONTENTt. LETTER III p. 24. Dryden, his characteristics. Fables : Knights' Tale : Cock and Fox : Flower and Leaf : Good Parson : Theodore and Honoria : Cymon and Ijihigenia. Alexander's Feast. LETTER IV p. 32. Waller : jimoret and Saccharissa : Panegyric en Cromiuell : Phoebus and Daphne. Prior .* Henry and E.mma : Solomo7i : Smaller pieces i Songs, Ballads, isfc. LETTER V. : : : . : : p. 4o. Addison : Campaign : Letter from Italy : Poem to Kncllcr : Hymns : Translations. Pamell : Hesiod, or the Rise of Woman : Fairy Tale : Allegory on Man : Night-piece on Death : Her- mit : Battle of Frogs and Mice. Gay : Rtiral Sjiorts : Trivia : The Fan : Shepherd's Week ; remarks o?i Pastoral : Ballade : Fables. CONTENT- L:eTTER VI. . . . . p. -53. Sivtft ; character of Familiar Poetry : Cadenus, a?td Vanessa : Poems to Stella : Journal of a Modern Lady : The Grand Question debated : Mrs. Harris's Petition : Baucis and Philemon : Imitations of Horace : Verses on his oivn D^tb. LETTER VII. . . - . p. 64. Return to Pofie : Translation of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey : Eloisa to Abelard : Rafie of the Lock ; mock heroic ; unworthy treatment of the female sex : Essay on Criticism : Essay o?^ Man : Moral Essays : Imitations of Horace :. Satires : Dunciad : Prologue to Cato. LETTER VIII p. 82. Youngs his character as a satirist : Love of Fame: Paraphrase on Job, Elegiac 7neasure : Hammond's Love-Elegies, CONTENTS* LETTER IX p. 90. ©72 Blank Verse / compared with Rhyme. Milton t Mask of Comus : jilhgro a?id Pcnseroso : Ly- cidas. LETTER X. . . . . p. 100. Paradise Lost : Paradise Regained : Samson .dgO' nistes. LETTER XL .... p. 111. Imitators of Milton. J. Phili/is : Splendid Shil- ling' : On Didactic Poetry : Cyder : jirm^ »trong :. Art of Preserving Health. Dyer : Fleece : Grongar Hill ; Ridns of Rome. LETTER XIL ... p. 123. ^ienszde : Pleasures of the Imagination : Hymn to the Kaiads : Inscriptions, Thomson : Sea^ 4Qm c Liberty^ Sa'c. «50NTENT9^ LETTER XIII. ... p. 13S. Somerville^s Chace. Young's Mg/it Thoughts. LETTER XIV. . . .p. 141. Return to Rhyme. Gray : Ode to Sjiring : Pros- pect of Eton College : Hymn to Adversity : Fatal Sisters : Pmdaric Odes :. Progress of Poesy : Bard : -Elegy in a Country Church' yard : Fragments^ Mason :. his Odes : Els- gies, LETTER XV. . : .p. I5S. Collins : his Eclogues : Odes. Akenside's Odes. Smollett's Ode ta Lidejiendence. Laureate Odec. LETTER XVI. . ; . . .p. 160, .Allegorical Poetry : Sjie?iser's Faery Queen, Imitations of Sjienser : Thomson's Castle of In* dolence^ Shenstone's School-mistress. QOWTBriH. UriTER XVII p. 173. I'hf Willi/ I'ltiN Comlii/. JJitl/rr'* Huilihiun, Urtrn, 1.1 I I I l( •■. \ III . . |. Ili7. I'orlit (ukrn ifii/tuul itunt>{/yinf{. lltiut uj judf^ tin hi fn the ii4kilii>ii>i. 'I'iikrlL Uurt/i. Con- Hrpvr, J5 ] LETTER IL MY DEAR PUPIL, As it is my wish as soon as possible to habituate your ear to the melody of versification, I shall to- tally disregard the chronological order in which the productions of English poetry have made their ap- pearance, and at once introduce you to those per- fect examples of the art, which necessarily imply many previous attempts.. The poet, therefore, "whom I shall first recommend to your notice is •the correct and harmonious Pope, the master of the modern school of English versifiers ; and t shall initiate you by the perusal of those of his ■works which will least occupy your attention on any other account than the music of their strains. His " Pastorals" were a production of his early youth, formed upon models left us by the an dents, and aspiring to little more than the praise of ele- gant imitation. In many respects they show the immature age of the writer, but not in their versi- fication, which possesses a degree of excellence scarcely surpassed by himself in his mature per- formances. The measure is of the kind termed heroic, as being principally employed upon gravg and elevated topics. In its most regular form, it consists of ten syllables, alternately short and long, constituting what in Greek and Latin poetry are call- ed 16 lEITER II. f :I Iambic iect. You v.ill perceive that the voice in :^-eneral lays a light stress upon every other syllable, ivhich produces a sort of undulating motion in the whole, resembling the flow of waves. This is a very simple melody, yet, when well managed, is sufficiently agreeable. I question not that you will immediately fzcL the sweetness of verses like these : Go, gep.tJe gales, and bear my sigh* along I The birds bhall cease to tune their evening «ong, The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move. And streams to muraiur, ere 1 cease to love. These Pastorals contain a great many pretty lines, a general elegance and splendour of diction, but very liitic original imagery. It is remarkable that a young poet, brought up in a rural retreat, should have view- ed nature so little with his own eyes. But he was a I'ery early student of poetry, and imitation took place in him of observation. He had, however, the good taste to make a selection of the mostpleasing images ; and the objects he paints, though common, are repre- sented with truth and beauty. The bright touches of a poetical pencil are conspicuous in the following lints : Where dancing sun-bcamt on the waters play'd. And verdant aldera formed a quiv'ilng shade. Here you see, superadded to the melody of num- bers, \.\rx\. choice of appropriate circumstances which gives life and animation to description, and which is one of the essential qualities of poetry, though it alsc^ Wlongs to good writing in general. The POPE. iT The last of these pieces, the sacred eclogue of ** Messiah," will doubtless strike you as written in a more lofty strain than the rest. In fact, it deserts the scenery and sentiment proper to pastoral, and borrows its imagery and language from the sublime conceptions of the Hebrew bards. It was, indeed, a noble fore- taste of what the young poet was destined to be, and showed that grandeur was not less his chai*acteristic than elegance. It has been objected to Pope's versifi- cation, that he too uniformly concludes a sentence, or at least a clause, within the limits of a couplet, so that the stop regularly falls upon the second rhyming- word. It is perhaps right that this shovild be the com- mon structure of rhymed heroics, since it gives the clearest perception of the measure ; yet to break it oc- casionally and with judgment, relieves the ear from a tiresome monotony. Of this a happy example is af- forded in the following passage of the Messiah : But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays. One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze O'erflow thy courts. This cnierjlcro of the measure is not only agreeable to the ear, but has a sort of correspondence with the sense. " Windsor Forest," another juvenile production of • this writer, bears no mean rank among descriptive poems. There is less of local scenery in the descrip- tion than might have been expected from one who passed much of his youth within the purlieus of the forest; and the subjects are chiefly drawn from rural life in general, or from historic incidents. The pic- D 2 tures is- LETTER rr. tures of countiy sports, and the lively sketches of the animals which are the objects of them, never fail to give pleasure to a young reader. The latter part of the poem, ho-vvever, containing the personification and prediction of " old father Thames," is in a strain greatly superior to the rest, and strongly marks the de- velopement of the author's genius in the nine years r/hich intervened between the composition of the twa portions. It "vvould be difficult from the whole range of descriptive poetry to produce a finer passage thaa •hat foilo'.ving the lines, The time shall come, tvlien free as seas or wind Unbounded Thames s^all flow for all inanlcind. The next piece inserted in the works of our poet comes opportunely to give you a taste of a new kind of composition, and new modes of versification. This is the " Ode for St. Cecilia^s Day ;" a poem intended to be set to music, as "^ere originally all tliose termed f-jvic^ although at present they are frequently written v.ithout any such intention. They are all, however, expected to contain a species of music in tjiemselves j ■hat is, so to adapt the measure to the subject, as to accompany the changes of sense in the words, with '•orrcspondcnt changes of modulation in the verse. This inu-sic of poetry is reducible to no deteiininate rules, and different ears form very different conclu- sions respecting it : indeed, it is possible for a skil- ful reader to give almost what expression he pleas- es to any combination of long and short syllables. Vet it is certain that some are natrirally better suit- ed than others to particular emotions of the mind, and POPE. 19 and the opposite extremes of light and'soleiMi), cheer- ful and plaintive, are capable of being marked with sufficient distinctness. How far the various melodies of verse can be made to coincide with the proper music of notes and tones, I confess myself unable to judge ; but I cannot observe without disgust what effusions of nonsense and vulgarity are usually preferred by mu- sical composers as the vehicles of their finest airs. The musician probably wishes to have the words so pliant as to conform to all the changes of strain which the rules of his art may require ; but poetry and sense are not of so accommodating a nature. Pope's Ode I believe, never acquired fame as a musical performance : as an experiment in the art of versification, it certainly deserves attention. You will remark that it begins with an imitation of sounds alone. There is danger in such an attempt, lest, by aiming to approach too near, sense should be too much neglected, and the words should catch an air of the burlesque. Thus a great poet has given " The double, double, double beat of the thund'ring drum." Pope, however, has avoided anything so extravagant, and his first stanza seems to imitate very happily the music it describes. He proceeds to the imitation of action and sentiment, and the antient story of Orpheus and Eurydice is the principal frame for the expression. The story has been better told by other poets ; for every thing is here made subservient to those changes of situa- tion and passion which may display the writer's art in the adaptation of suitable measures. In some of these iO LETTER ir. these efforts he has been thought successful ; in others much the reverse : but I do not wish to prompt your judgment by the opmion of others. Read and feel for yourself. The two " Choruses for the Tragedy of Brutus" which follow, were also intended to be set to mu- sic. They are probably too replete with thought for this purpose ; but this is no objection to them, considered as poems to be read. They are very elegant pieces ; and the touching picture of connu- bial love in the second of them deserves great praise as a moral painting. With respect to the peculiar structure of the stanzas, and the application of the antique terms of choi*us and semi-chorus, strophe and an ti- strophe, I shall make no remarks at pre-- sent. Lyrical poetry, to which they belong, will be more fully considered hereafter. I do not mean to lead you without intermission through the works of this charming author ; but in order to render your ear perfectly familiar with the tune, as it may be called, of his versification, I shall desire you not to lay him down till you have pe- rused two or three more of his pieces in that mea- sure of which he was the greatest master, the heroic. His " Elegy to the Memory of an unfortunate Lady" is a very finished composition, and has, per- haps, more of the pathetic than any thing he has ■written besides ; for in that quality he does not a- bound. You will perceive a fine effect from that artifice of writing, the repetition of words particular- ly tnergetic, ui tlie following lines : By By foreign hands tby dying eyes were closed. By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by itrangers mourn'd. Examples of that sententious brevity which peculi- arly distinguished our poet, are found in this piece, which does not in the least partake of the character of feebleness usually imputed to elegy. No writer has made such advantage of the obligation imposed by rhyme-couplets of comprising a sense within the li- mits of one or two verses : he has derived from it a nervous conciseness beyond the powers of prose, or blank verse. What can surpass the fullness and enei> gy of meaning in such lines as these ? And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield.— Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,— 'Ti« all thou art, and all the proud shall be.— It is manifest that this kind of excellence cannot be attained without unremitting care and diligence ; and no man ever bestowed more of these upoa his pro- ductions than Pope. The " Temple of Fame'* is a composition of a very different kind. Poetry appears in it drest in that garb of fiction which may be called its holiday suit, but ■which by some has been represented as its proper and distinguishing habit. The writer has here borrowed the invention of an older poet ; but he has so much improved the design, and filled it up with so many beauties of his own growth, that his work may almost claim the merit of an.original. The idea of the Tem- ple 22 LETTER II. pie of Fame'* is an allegorical fiction ; that is, a fable or story, formed upon the conversion of the abstract quality, Fame, into a person, and assigning her a local habitation, with attendants, votaries, and the like. You will hereafter find the poets abounding in such cre- ations of the fancy, by which they gain the advantage of entertaining their readers with novelties. ...with things, as Milton expresses it, " beyond this visible diurnal sphere," which gratify the natural passion for wonder, and produce scenes of splendour and sublimity superior to those presented by mere reality. I do not mean to trouble you with a commentary on this piece, which, in fact, is less admirable for its alle- gorical justness, than for the particular beauties of its description. Jn the latter respect, very few works of poetry surpass it ; and though it was a juve- nile performance of the author, it affords examples of his very best manner. You cannot pass over with- out admiration the simile of the ice-mountains, which presents a winter landscape of wonderful brilliancy : Se Zambia's rocks, the beauteous work of frost. Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast ; Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away. And on th' impassive ice the lightnings play. I know not whether you are sufficiently advanced in general reading to judge of the figures of heroes, phi- losophers, and poets, with which his temple is so nobly decorated ; but where you are acquiunted with the cha- racters, you will not fail of being struck with the spi- rit and justness of the portraitures. Homer, ^'irgil, juid Pindar are drawn with singular force and skill. The The conclusion of the piece, relative to liis own views as a candidate for fame, is entirely his own, and mor- alizes with true dignity. If in addition to the works above pointed out, you will read the two beautiful translations from Ovid," the Fable of Dryope," and " Vertumnus and Pomona,'* you will have acquired a full perception of the melody of versification, and the clearness and splendour of dic- tion, which are some of the most essential qualities of fine poetry. And having gained this point, I think it advisable no longer to confine you to this one writer, lest, fascinated by his beauties, you fix your taste so exclusively upon him, as to regard every deviation from his manner as a defect. You will therefore lay Mm down for the present, and in my next letter I will introduce you to one of his competitors in poetic fame. Farewell, See. 24 LETTER III. PunsviN^ my first idea of habituating you to the numbers and the language of poetry as exhibited in the best models, I now, my dear Mary, carry you baek to one who is regarded as the master of Pope, and whom many think his superior. This is the celebra- ted Dryden, a name scarcely second to any among the English poets, and the fertile author of composi- tions, many of which, from an unfortunate choice of topics, are almost sunk into oblivion, or are remem- bered chiefly by their titles. The seriousness of his temper, and strong party attachments, engaged him in political and religious controversy, and the neces- sities under which he laboured made him a venal trader in adulation. Hence he incurred a great waste of genius, and tlirew away upon temporary and un- worthy topics, exertions which would have served to delight future ages. Of the works which still attract the notice of read- ers of poetry, the principal are his " P'ables ;" pieces formed upon the stoiies of early writers, and modern- ized with a free hand. Although these were com- posed at an advanced period of life, and indeed as a task for money, yet, such was the vigour of his genius, that they possess all the wai-mth of diction and facility of invention which distinguished his best days. The characteristics of Dryden are richness and freedom. His versification is much more varied than that of Pope* Pope. The pauses in the lines arc placed v.itli less uniformity ; the sense of one line or conj[>let mere frequently overflows to the next ; triplets, or three successive i-hymes, are often iutroducecl ; and alexan- drines, or lines lengthened to twelve syllables, arv scattered throughout. His poetical diction or style partakes of a similar variety. It is sometimes eie* rated and adorned with the must splendid figures ; hut its habitual cast is that of energy and animation, supported by the free use of common words, vvhich, if strong and expressive, are not rejected on account of •a degree of coarseness. It is therefore well fitted for narration ; and scarcely any poeins of this class are to be found, which paint action and scenery on the read- ■er's imagination in such lively colours as his Tales. It is, however, to be remarked, that no writer was ever less careful to preserve proprieties of manners and character than this poet, and that his violations of the costume surpass all allowable bounds. This defect, in- deed, is in great part derived from the authors whom he paraphi'SPsed, who were chiefly those of a rude and tasteless age. The " Knight's Tale," or " Palauion and Arcite,'* taken from Chaucer, which I shall first recommend to your perusal, strangely attributes the manners of chi- valry to the times and persons of remote classical anti- quity. But after the reader has acquiesced in this leading incongruity, he cannot fail to receive much entertainment from the richness of the scenery and variety of the adventures ; and as a study in the pocti- c cal •26 LETTER III. cal art, few pieces in the English language deserve more attention. Dryden was versed in the leaniiirg of the schools, and was fond on all occasions of pour- ing forth his knowledge upon abstruse and speculative points. You will therefore find, intermixed Avith the description and sentiment proper to the story, many allusions relative to astronomy, theology, metaphysics, and other branches of pliilosophy, which perhaps you may think tedious. But in proportion as you have ac- quired a taste for poetry, you vvill dv>'ell with delight und admiration upon his creations of the fancy, some of wliich are equally bold in the conception, and vivid in the representation. The temples of Venus and Mars are draughts of this kind, finely contrasted : tlie latter, especially, abounds with allegorical figures which, in the painter's phrase, perfectly start from the canvas. The purely narrative part of the tale flows easy and copious ; and though protracted with great variety of circumstance, keeps up the ii>terest to the very conclusion. Of the other tales, " the Cock and the Fox" will entertain you by its description of familiar objects ; but you will wonder to find so much reading and argumen- tation put into the mouths of barn-door fowl. Dry- den, as well as some other wi-iters, seems to have thought the character of that kind of fiction termedy??- blp^ sufficiently preserved, if the actions belong to the animals v/hich are the personages of the story, while the language and sentiments are those of human be- ings. It is true, supposing them to converse at all, is DKYDEV. 27 is giving- them the principal atti'ibute of man ; yet the most correct fabulist limit their discourse to the mere illustration of the moral intendc J to be exempli- fied, and make them as nearly as possible utter the sense of a bird or beast that should be inspired v. ith the gift of language. Dryden's Cock and Hen have all the knowledge which he himself possessed, and quote fathers and schoolmen just as tn his " Kind and Panther" (a piece which I do not recommend to you, notwithstanding its temporary fame) all the arguments in the controversy between papists and prc- testants are inserted in a dialogue between those tv/o animals. He has contrived, however, in the present tale to make the absurdity sufficiently amusing, and it has many lines worth reraemberijig. The theory of the production of dreams has often been quoted : Dreams are but interludes which fancy makes : While monarch reason sleeps, this mittic wakes ; Compounds a medley of disjointed things, A mob of coblers, and a court of kings. The Vision entitled " The Flov^er and the Leaf" is not very interesting as an allegory : it howev- er contains much brilliant description. The picture of Spring with which it commences is uncommon- ly beautiful, and, upon a trite subject, is marked wit'n the originality of genius. The « Character of a Good Parson" is an admi- rable piece of moi'al portraiture ; piety and virtue have seldom been painted in a form moie dignified and amhible. The allusion to the well-:a:ovvu fuble 2S LETTER III. of the Sim, ^nnd and traveller, is very ingenious and poetical. In his story of " Theodore and llonoria" the poet gives a specimen of his powers in the terrijic. I shall not diminish the curiosity with which you will peruse this " tale of wonder" by anticipating its circumstances ; but I would bespeak your attention to some lines ..which have been justly noted as con- taining one of the finest examples of the verse mod- ulated to the subject. They are these : Whilst listening to the murmujing leaves he stood, More than a mile immers'd within the wood, At once the wind was laid : the whispering sound Was dumb ; a rising earthquake rock'd tlie ground : With deeper brown the grove was overspread ; A sudden horror seiitcd his giddy head. And his ears tinkled, and hii colour fled. Your ear cannot fail to mark that skilful variation of the pauses, which makes the reader feci, as it were, his breath suspended,, in expectation of the coming scene. " Cymon and Iphigenia," an entertaining story poetically related, may conclude your progress through Drydeu's Fables. An example of his art of versification will probably strike you in this triplet : The fanning wind upon her bosom blows. To meet the fanning wind the bosom rose. The fanning wind and purling strcim continue her repoiC. A very elegant moral rcntimcnt is contained in the foUov.-ing couplet : 0RYDEN. 29 Love taught him shame ; and shame, with love at strife. Soon taught the sweet civilities' of life. I reserve for you, before taking leave of tliis illus- trious poet, that production of his which has obtidned the greatest share of popularity, and is usually placed at' the head of a class in English poetry : this is <' Alexander's Feast, or the Power of Music." I have already, in reference to Pope's Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, made a few remarks concerning lyric poetry properly so called, or that which is intended for asso- ciation with music. That before us was written on the same occasion, and the whole art of the poet has been employed to accommodate it to musical expres- sion. The subject is peculiarly happy, as being a striking example of that influence of music over the passions which it was the business of the day to cele- brate. Narration and imitation go hand in hand ; and the manner of relating the effects produced, tells at the same time how they were produced. The changes of measure seem to flow spontaneously from those in the action. Perhaps it would not be easy to show the exact and exclusive adaptation of each strain to its particular subject ; yet in general the ear is sa- tisfied, and recognizes that concordance betv/een the sound and the sense which it was the poet's aim to exhibit. In some instances this is peculiarly happy ; and it has been a favourite trial of skill in recitation to give an adequate vocal expression to the most distin- guished passages of this ode. There is an air of freedom and facility in the v/holcj which renders pro- c 3 buble :vO LETTER III. bable the tradition that it was " struck off at a heat f "vvhereas the ode of Pope 6ti the same occasion bears all the marks of study and labour. The universal applause v ith "svhich this piece has been received, is a proof how much more congenial to the mind is the interest arising from an historical fact, than that excited by mythological or allegorical fic- tion. Its effect is obviously enhanced by that rapid uninterrupted flow of narration, which does not suffer the reader's attention to flag, but carries him on fron"^ scene to scene Avith unchecked ardour. It has that unity of subject which is essential to the production of warm emotions ; and in this respect, Dryden's Alex- ander's Feast is widely different in its construction from the generality of lyric poems, in which the rule seems to have been, to introduce as much variety as possible, with the most sudden and unexpected tran- sitions. You will hereafter have an opportunity of observing the performance of great masters upon this plan. I might, indeed, refer you to the prac- tice of Dryden himself, in his " Ode to the Memoiy of Mrs. Killegrew" ; a composition "which no less a judge than Dr. Johnson has pronounced one of the finest of its class in the English language. I know not thftt it has received such commendation from any other modern critic ; and to mc, I con- fess, it appears such a medley of extravagance and conceit, that I can" only account for the fa- vour it has met with from the eminent v.riter above mentioned, upon the supposition of its hav- ing drtoek. 51 ing fallen in with one of those early associaticms, which are continually imposing prejudices upon us in the shape of judgments. But it is time now to close my lecture : so adieu ! Your truly affectionate, &C. 32 LETTER IV. Supposing my pupil to be well grounded in the harmony and diction of Dryden and Pope, I now proceed to put into her hands other standard wri- ters, who rank in the same poetical class, though they have reached only an inferior point of ex-- cellence. The courtly Waller, to whom the praise is commonly, but unjustly, given of having been the first who wrote rhymed heroic verse with ele- gance and correctness, may cert^dnly lay claim to a lady's notice, since to her sex he devoted some of his choicest strains. I am apprehensive, how- ever, that his gallantries may seem to you some- what far-fetched, and his compliments over-strain- ed, and that, for your own part, you would prefer tenderness to deification. Love, in its highest tone, is, indeed, favourable to poetry, which scorns the limits of truth and nature, and in every thing affects hyperbole. But in such cases, the fancy is gratified at the expense of the feeling, and fic- tion occupies the place of reality. There are three topics which poets (and often the same poets) treat in a similar manner ; devo- tion, love, and royalty : or rather, they apply to tlie two latter, expressions and sentiments borrow- ed WALLER. 33 cd from the former. Thus Waller, speaking of his Sacchaiissa ; Scarce can I to Heaven excuse The Jevotion which I use Unto th.1t adored datne, For 'tis not unlike the same Which 1 thither ought to send. In the piece containing these lines, he has made, an ingenious parallel between his high-flown pas- sion for this lady, and that which at the same time he felt for one whom he calls Amoi'et ; and you may make it an exercise of the heart, as well as of the taste, to consider whether you would have chosen to be the poet's Saccharissa or his Amoret. I am inclined to think that the latter had the best chance of being long and truly loved. We know, from Waller's history, that he did not obtain his Saccharissa, and yet he does not appear to have been a sufferer from amorous disappointment. It is, however, but an idle task to compare a poet's life with his verses ; and the grave critics who have spent much pains on such disquisitions with re- spect to many eminent votaries of the Muses, have only proved how little they entered into the charac- ter and feelings of this capricious set of mortals. In Waller, the affection of loyalty was not less mutable than that of love, and he equally made it the servant of present dominion, in whatever hands. His " Panegyric of Cromwell" is thought to be the composition in which his muse has taken the lofti* . , est 34. LETTER IV. est flight. The cause of its superiority to others of his adulatory strains wa§ probably the reverse of that which he ingeniously suggested by way of a- pology to Charles II. — " that poets succeed better in fiction than in truth :" it was, that in Cromwell he had a really great though a bad man to cele- brate ; with whom the indolent and inglorious Charles could stand in no degree of competition. From this piece you may take the measure of his pov/ers in the heroic style. You will find them not inconsiderable, though wanting the support of cor- rect taste and uniform elevation of thought. I im- agine, however, that you will receive more pleasure from some of his lighter effusions, in which his fan- cy sports with ease and grace. The application of the story of Phcebus and Daphne to a poet who ob- tained the laurel, while he missed the object of his amorous pursuit, was greatly admired in its day, and may, even in this correcter age, be allowed the praise of ingenuity, though its concluding point is but a kind of play on words. I shall not particu- larize other pieces, but leave you the agreeable em- ployment of culling from his poetic garden those which best please you. There are weeds in it, but, I think, no poisonous or offensive plants. I shall next desire you to take down the works of Prior, a poet whose fame is indeed somewhat obscured by time, but who has just claims to a reader's attention. You will find his versification generally melodious, and well varied in its pauses j hia liis diction elegant and animated, and Lis ideas co- pious and poetical. He is apt to run into prolix- ity, and the subjects of many of his serious pieces are such as ^vouId aftbrd you little entertainment ; for what is less interesting than the incense bestoAv- ed upon royal and titled personages, after they have ceased to be the living objects of a respect Vv'hich, perhaps, always belonged more to their sta- tions than to themselves ? When these temporary pieces, and others which I cannot with propriety recommend to your perusal, are abstracted, Pri- or's works will shrink to a s-mall compass. His " Henry and Emma" is too celebrated a- "mong amatory compositions not to demand your notice. The story belongs to an older writer, but has been so much adorned and amplified by Prior, that it may almost pass for an original production. He has, however, spun it rather too fine, and has assigned to it a relinem.ent of manners and senti- ment which destroys- all the costume of the age in which the scene is laid. Yet if you can overcome the distaste you will naturally feel for the hard and unfair trials to which Emma is subjected, and her too fond compliance v/ith unreasonable requi- sitions, you will not fail to derive pleasure from the beauty of the poetry. The poem of " Solomon" is the author's princi- pal work of the serious kind, and it is certainly no ordinary performance. You will not read it as a guide either in natural or moral philosophy, for in these points it has many defects ; nor is the general 2^ tXTTEK IV. •general inference, " all is vanity," a maxim which it is practically useful *to inculcate. Though a voluptuous monarch missed his way in the pursuit of happiness, it does not follow that private virtue and wisdom riftay not attain such a share of it as is permitted to man in his present imperfect con- dition : at least, all things are not equally viun, and reason has sufficient scope for exercising a choice. But comfortless as the doctrine of human misery appears, it has always been a favourite topic with rhetoricians and poets, who seem to have found in it a source of that sublime which consists in dark ■and awful ideas. Prior has dwelt upon it with un- Xisual energy, and the following moral climax upon the subject is truly poetical : Happy th« mortal man, who now at last Has thro' this doleful vale of misery past ; Who to his destin'd stage lias carried on The tedious load, and laid his burthen down ; Whom the cut brass, or wounded marble, shows Victor o'er life and all her train of woes ! He, happier yet, who privilcg'd by fate To shorter labour, and a lighter weight, Rccciv'd but yesterday the gift of breath, Ordcr'd tomorrow to return to death. But O ! beyond description happiest he. Who ne'er must roll on life's tumultuous sea ; Who, with blest freedom, from the general doom Exempt, must never force the teeming womb, Kor see the sun, nor sink into the tomb I To give any sense to this latter clause, the no^ lion of a pre-existent state must be admitted, wliich has fcas met wilh several grave assertors, though appa- Tently little conformable to reason or revelation. The most pleasing part of the poem of " Solo- mon," is that in whicii the loves of the Jewish kiiv^- with the Egyptian maid, and wiih Abra, arc desciib- ed. The contrast between the tv,o females is finely drawn ; and the empire gradually esttibiished ovti" the royal lover by the gentle and complying Abra, is an instructive piece of moral painting. It is possible that tliis poem may tire you before you have got tlu'ough the three books : yet the matter is well varied, and the narration is skilfully broken by sentiment afid refleciion. But it is Prior's fault that he cannot resist an occasion to amplify ; and he often indulges in a trite sernaonizing strain, which all the splendour of his language does not prevent from becoming tedious. You will observe here and there in his verse a quick succession of triplets, which have an unpleasant effect on the ear by breaking the regularity ©f the measure, aVid seem merely a luxuriance of the faulty redundance of his style. I shall not set you to read any of his prolix com- positions called Odes, in which he celebrates Wil- liam and Anne, or laments for Mary, Neither the subjects, nor his manner of treating them, would probably interest you. But I wish it were easy for me to direct your eye to the best of his smaller pieces, which are unfor- tunately interspersed among so much inferior and so much improper matter, that many pages niust o be '38 LETTtia tV, be turned over to get at them. I will, LoV/cvei^j point out a few, which you may find by the help of the tabic of contents. Prior has given us some of the best specimens of those short amatory poems in stanzas, or returning tneasures, which are usually called songs, tliough, perhaps, they may never be set to music. It is re-* markable, that in twenty-eight actual songs, set by the most eminent masters, he has scaixely given one worth reading. But some really good ones are Jnterspersea in his works, v^hich may serve to give you a taste of th.is pleasing species of composition. The pijce beginning « The merchant to secure his treasure" ingeniously compares the different ap- pearances of real and of pretended love. " If wine and music have the power," is a poelica! ode upon the lloratian model. Pathetic tenderness character lizes the tv.'o short pieces of which the first Unes are " Yes, fairest proof of beauty's power," and " In vaiii you tell your parting lover." That enti-» tied " Phillis's Age" is an example of the witty and satirical manner. The " Despairing Shepherd" beautifully paints that pure and exalted passion which is the soul of romance. When love of this kind was in credit,' " He bov.'d, obey'd, and died" nuist have been the very perfection of amorous al- legiance. In " The Garland" a touching moral is deduced with great elegance from a circumstance v.ell adapted to poetical description. The " Lady's Lookhig-glass" may rank with this in subject, though not Miitten in stanzas. <-^ The female Phae= ton PUIOR. oV ton" is apiece of great sprightliness, "wrougl^.t to an epigrammatic point, founded, like Waller's Fha- bus and Daphne, upon a classical allusion. Tiie extravagance of " set the world on iire" would be admired at a time when men of wit and gallantry thought they could not go too far in complimenting a lady. Among the pieces called ballads^ by which Were meant a species of narrative songs in a famiiiar and humorous style, you will be amused with « Down-Hall" and « The Thief and Cordelier." It is mortifying that the talent for which Prior is particularly famous, that of telling a story with ease and pleasantry, should have been exercised upon such topics as absolutely to preclude a ycung lady from enjoying it. I can only venture to give you a taste of his manner by " the English Fadlock,"' which is written with his characteristic vivacity, and contains a very good moral. You cannot at present be prepared to relish his comico-philosophical poem of " Alrna ;" and I think we have already dwelt long enough upon th€ works of an author, whose beauties are of a kind not the most favourable to the formation of a corrtqt taste. Adieu ! 40 LETTER V. Wk v.ill next, my dear Mary, turn to an author^ one of whose praises it is, never to have written " a line whicli, dying, he would v.ish to blot" — the moral and elegant Addison. Pie ranks, indeed, much higher as a writer of prose than of verse, yet he first came into notice for his talents in the latter capacity. He had the fortune to live at a time v/hen the union of poetry witli loyalty bore a high value, and liis praises of William and Marlbo- rough were rewarded ^\ith pensions and public em- ployments. The subjects of these pieces probably "vvill not much recommend them to you ; yet the second, entitled " The Campaign," retains consid- erable celebrity among poems of its class. It is composed with care, and supports an uniform and polished dignity : several of its passages even rise to a degree of sublimity. The simile of the des- troying angel, to whom Marlborough at the battle of Blenheim is compared, has been much admired : So v.hen an angel by divine ccmmand With rising tempests shakes a puilty land. Such as of late o'er pa!c Britannia past, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast : And pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform. Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. An objection has been made against this simile, that it too nearly resembles the primary object ; for the Angel and Marlborough are both represent- ed as performing a task of destruction under the command of a superior, and both are rational be- ings exerting similar mental qualities. But if this circumstance be a deduction from- the ingenuily of the thought, it is none from its grandeur, or from the value of the parallel as enhancing the idea of the poet's hero. No greater conception of a chief in battle can be formed, than that of a superior be- ing, in tranquil security, directing the furious move- ments of a resistless force, and intent only upon executing the commission- with which he is charg-- £dr The" Letter from Italy" has long held a distin- guished place among descriptive poems. It pos- sesses the advantage of local topics well adapted to poetry ; for nature and art seem to contend in decorating the happy region which is its subject : there is little,- however, of the enthusiasm of genius in Addison's sketches, and his pencil seems rather guided by cool reflection than ardent emotion. The praise of liberty is the theme on which he is most animated, yet his encomiums on it are vague and uncharacteristic. The " goddess heav'nly b)igbt, Pi'ofu^e of bliss and pregnant with delight," hi;s no attributes to distinguish her from any other benefi- cent deity. Of his miscellaneous pieces, none is so v/orthy ©f attention as that addressed " to Kneller on his D 3 Picture 4-2 LKTTER V. Picture of the King." The paniUcl between the heathen gods and a series of the English kings is bingulaily ingenious and happy. His " Hymns" have deservedly obtained a distin- . guished place in collections of sacred poesy. With sufficient polish and elevation, they preserve that simplicity of language which is requisite for the clear expression of sentiment, and which appears more favourable to devotion than the lofty obscuri- ty of metaphorical dictioii. A great portion of Addison's verse consists of translation from the Latin poets. These do not rise beyond a kind of elegant mediocrity, and are of little value in themselves. It may, however, be "worth your while to read those from Ovid, as amus- ing tales, which will initiate you in those antient fictions to which so many allusions are made by modem poets. The story of Phaeton is one of the most splendid of these, and perhaps the most poetical production of its author ; nor has the transl".tcr been wanting in diligence to render it agreeable to the English reader. It would be unjust to the relative merit of Addi- Kcn not to remark, that the force of his poetical pov/ers is principally displayed in his tragedy of *' Cato," a performance to which the plan of my present letters does not extend, but which will un- doubtedly at some period come wiiliin the compass of your reading. With respect to his opera of ** Rosi.mond," it is a tuneful trifle which you may turn PAHNELL. 4i3 turn over whenever you find it eng&ge your curi- osity. It Avill supply you "with some new speci- mens of singuhuly melodious versification, Parnell is a poet who may be put into your hands with a certainty of affording you pleasure ; nor is there any need of selection in his works, as far as those contained in Pope's edition, which termir^ ;es with the " Hermit." These, however, do not Constitute a third part of the matter in the modern editions of Parncli's poenss. Of these co- pious appendages Dr. Johnson says, " I know not whence they came, nor have ever inquired whither they are going ;" and if, in an express criticism on the author, he thought himself justified in treating them with so much indifference, I may surely take the same liberty, when it is my sole object to point out such pieces as may most agreeably impress you with his characteristic excellencies. These are, uncommon sweetness and clearness of language, melodious versification, lively elegance of sentiment, and force of description. The first piece in the volume, entitled " Hesiod, or the Rise of Woman," is a sprightly and ingen- ious fuble, of which he is indebted to the old Grecian bard only for the bare outline. It is some- what saucy with respect to your sex ; yet I think you will excuse the following list of the talents conferred by Venus on the first woman, on account of the beauty with which they are enumerated. The« 44 LETTER V. Then In a kiss she breath'd her various arts Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts ; A mind for love, but still a changing mind; The lisp affected, and the j^lance design'd ; The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink ; The gentle-swimming walk, the courteous sink j The stare for strangeness fit, fsr scorn the frown ; For decent yielding, looks declining down ; The practis'd languish, where well-feign'd desire Would own its melting in a mutual fire ; Gay smiles to comfort ; April sliowers to move j And all the nature, all the art, of love. The " Fairy Tale" is a very pleasant sport of the fancy employed to produce an interesting mo- ral. I know nothing of the kind in English poetry that equals it. Much imagination is displayed in the " Allegory on man," particularly in the picture of Young Time^ a new personage in poetry. The doom pronounced upon Man, of having Care assigned him through life for an inseparable companion, has too serious a truth for its foundation ! In the " Night-piece on Death," the meditation among the tombs is finely introduced with a solemn and majestic landscape, which gives a suitable pre- paratory impression to the mind. The sudden change of scene at— Ha ! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fade*. The bunting canh unveils tlie shades ! is one of the most striking incidents to be met with in descriptive poetry. But PARNELL. 45 But the most popular production of this poet is " The Hermit," a tule, in the embellishment of which, he has manifestly exerted his highest pow- ers. The story itself, intended to elucidate the doc- trine of a particular providence, is of antient inven- tion, and Parnell has only the merit of telling it in a poetical manner. In his narration he has preserved a due medium between dry conciseness and prolix- ity ; and though his diction is cultured, it is not overloaded with ornament. Of the smaller pieces in the volume, the songs, cdes, eclogues, &c. the general character is spright- liness and elegance. The translation of the " Battle of the Frogs and Mice, commonly attributed to Homer," is well executed ; but it has been justly remarked that the humorous effect of the proper names, which are all significative in the Greek, is lost to the English reader. Swift, in one of his familiar poems, says, —Have you nothing new to-day From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay? All these authors Avere friends, and entertained the public at the same time : but though he has men- tioned them together, he certainly did not estimate them all at the same rate. Pope's superiority could not be a subject of question. The other two, though considerably different in their merits, might bear a comparison with each other in point of gen- ius. Gay, however, as the more copious and va- riov»6 4S LBTTER V. rious writer, makes a greater figure than Parnell in the gallery of English poets, and has acquired a degree of reputation which renders his name fai> miliar to all readers of poetry. Gay is an original author, who drew his images and sentiments from the store of his own observa- tion. He has no claim to sublimity, and has little of the warmth and enthusiasm which denote a poet of the higher order ; but he is easy and natural, sometimes elegant, often pleasant, generally amus- ing, and never tiresome. His works are extremely varied in subject and manner, and require selection both in respect to merit and propriety. I shall, as in other cases, content myself with pointing out such as will afford you a competent view of his poetical character, and at the same time furnish you with suitable entertainment. If his first essay in verse, the " Rural Sports," be compared with Pope's juvenile Windsor Forest, the difference will appear strongly marked between one, who, with only ordinary powers of language and versification, describes what he has himself ob- served ; and one who skilled in all the mechanism of poetry, gives a splendid colouring to objects bor- rowed from the stock of written description. Coun- try sports, indeed, have frequently been the theme of poets, but Gay introduces many incidents which are exclusively his own. Originality is, however, much more strongly stamped upon his next poem, " Trivia, or The 6A^. *y Art of walking the Streets in Lonclon,** in the plan antl execution of which he has undoubtedly the chxim of an inventor. The piece is an example of what maybe termed the grave-comic, or burlesque^ heroic, in which, ludicrous or vulgar subjects are treated in a style of mock-elevationi Its rnatter is professedly didactic or preceptive ; and it is in- deed so seriously instructive in the art it proposes to teach, that were not the art itself of a low kind and attended with comic circumstances, it would lose the character of burlesque. A young lady cannot fully enter into the humour of this produc- tion, for it is not to be supposed that she has boen an unprotected pedestiian at all hours in the streets of the metropolis ; yet many of the incidents may be easily conceived, and are extremely amusing. The stop in the street at the pass of St. Clement's is described in a manner which will excite the shuddering recollection of every practised walker, if you have ever seen a fire, you will recognize the accuracy and force with which it is painted ; At first a glowing red enwraps the skies. And borne by winds the scatt'ring sparks arise ; From beam to beam the fierce contagion spreads j The spiry flames now lift aloft their heads ; Thro' the burst sash a blazing deluge pours. And splitting tiles descend in rattling showers, Sec. The origin of the Patten is a pretty mythologi- x:al fiction. That which relates the birth of the shoe-blacking art, was probably derived from one iece also comes under the head of burlesque poetry, on account of the dispropor- tion between its subject, and the weight of machiri- ery it employs. By this term is understood that agency of supernatural powers, which, whilst it aggrandises the lofty topics of the epic muse, serves, by way of contrast, to enhance the humour of light and ludicrous compositions. As an acquir- ed taste is requisite for entering into the spirit of such fictions, I know not whether you are yet pre- pared to relish the mock- solemnity of a council of the Gods debating upon the decorations of a fan ; but a classical critic will tell you that there is much beauty of adaptation in the subjects proposed by different deities for paintings on the mount ; and you will be sensible of the elegance of description in various parts of the detivil. Your attention is next called to " The Shep- herd's Week," a set of pastorals ; but some in- formation conceming the occasion of their compo- sition will usefully precede the perusal. I have already observed to you, that Pope's pastorals have little other meiit llian the melody of their versifi- cation 13 AY. 49 cation and splendour of their diction, and that they paint neither the scenery nor the manners of the country. They were received, however, with an applause, which seems to have excited the envy of Ambrose Philips, a cotemporary poet, who at- temped to correct the public taste by a specimen of pastoral poetry written upon a plan wlrlch he con- ceived more suitable to this species of composition. His pastorals v/ere, therefore, in their language and incidents, of a Sauch more s?.mple and rustic cast ; in which they certainly tnade a nearer ap- proach to the original Greek models, and gave a more natural representation of rural life. This simplicity, however, in some instances was capable of being set in a ludicrous point of view ; and Pope excited a laugh against them by an ironical paper in the " Guardian." Gay entered the field as an auxiliary to Pope and by way of exaggerating the ridicule thrown upon vulgar pastoral, undertook to write a set of pieces in which the real manners of country clowns should be painted, without any fictitious softening. But the result vi^as probably veiy different from what either he or his friends expected ; for these burlesque pastorals became the most popular compositions of that class in the language. The ridicule in them is, indeed sufficiently obnous to a cultivated reader ; but such is the charm of reality, and so grateful to the general feelings are the images drawn from rural scenes, that they afforded amusement to all x^anks of readers ; and they who did not compre- E hend 50 LETTER V. hend the jest, enjoyed them as faithful corpies o£ nature. Guy, as I have ah-eady remarked, was a curious observer ; and whether in the streets of London, or in a Devonslure village, he noted down every thing that came in his view. Whatever he tlius had stored in his memory, he brought forth in his compositions in the same mixed groups that nature herself presents, where the elegant and the vulgar, the serious and the comic, march side by side. Thus, in the Pastorals before us, while he pursues his prim^ary design of burlesque parody, he paints rural scenes with a truth of pencil scarcely elsewhere to be met with ; and even pathetic cir- cumstances are intermixed with strokes of sportive humour. The death of Blouzelind,in the fifth pas- toral, witii some omissions would make a scene more touching, because more natural, than most of the lamentuble tales of our modern sentimentalists. Tills singular combination distinguishes several of Gay's productions, especially his dramas. I shall not recommend to you his epistles, eclogues, tales, and other miscellaneous pieces. There is enter- tainm.ent in them, but they want more selection than it is v/orth your while to bestow. But you will not neglect his two celebrated ballads of " All in the Downs," and " 'Twas when the seas were roaring," which have been sung and repeated by the grandmothers of the present generation. He has some other pleasing pieces of the song kind ; and his " Molly Mog" and " Song of Similics" are familiar in humorous poetry. Of GAY. 6*i Of all Gay's works, none, however, is so well known as his " Fables," many of which have pfo^ bably already come in your way as part of the jiivenile library. Fable, as a poetical composition, requires an union of various excellencies in order to render it perfect. It should be ingenious in its construction, and not merely the illustration of some common moral, by attributing to brutes the actions and sentiments of men. Its descriptions should be exactly copied from nature, and include as much as possible of the natural history of the animals who are made the persons of the drama. Its style of narration should be easy and sprightly, but not coarsely familiar. In the first of these qualities Gay has little claim to merit ; for very. few of his fubles display ingenuity of invention or refinement of moral. The " Jugglers" and the " Court of Death" perhaps stand the highest in this respect. His talent for minute observation makes him. often happy in description ; and though his animals act like mere men, they are generally introduced with appropriate portraiture and scenery. His language is for the most part sufficiently easy without being vulgar ; but it is destitute of tb.ose strokes of shrewd simpliciiy ■which so much charm in La Fontaine. As to the scope of his Fables, it is almost entirely satirical ; and you will probably be surprised to find, upon consideration, how little suited many of them are to the avowed design of instructing a young prince. But 52 i-sttfeft V. But moral judgment Was by no means the forte of this writer. This epistle has run out to an unreasonable length, so I hasten to conclude it with an affec- tionate adieu. Yours, Scc> 63 LETTER VI. I xow, my dear Mary, mean to treat you vrkh a rarity — a writer fierft-ct in his kind. It may be a doubt whether perfection in an inferior branch of art indicates higher talents than something short of perfection in a superior ; but it cannot be quesr tioned that, by way of a study, and for the cultivation of a correct taste, a perfect work in any departm.ei:it is a most valuable object. Dean Swift is in our language the master in Jamiliar poetry. Without the perusal of his works no adequate conception can be formed of \s\t and humour moving under the shackles of measure and rhyme with as much ease as if totally unfetter- ed ; and even borrowing grace and vigour from tlie constraint. In your progress hitherto, although it has been through some of our most eminent poets, you cannot but have observed, that the necessity of finding a termination to a line of the same sound with that of the preceding, has frequently' occasion- ed the employment of an improper word, such ?_s without tliis necessity would never have suggested itself in that connexion. Indeed, it is not uncom- mon in ordinary versifiers to find a whole line tlirown in for no other purpose than to introduce a rhyming word. Hov/ far rhyme is a requisite dec- E 2 oration 54 LETTER TI. oration of English verse, you will judge from yonv own perceptions, after perusing the best specimens- of blank verse. It is manifest, however, that when employed, its value must be in proportion to its ex- actness, and to its coincidence with the sense. In these respects, Swift is without exception the most perfect rhymer in the language ; and you will admire how the very word, which by its mean- ing seems most fit for the occasion, slides in with- out effort as the echo in sound to the terminating vord of the preceding line. Even double and triple rhymes are ready at his call, and, though suggest- ing the most heterogenous ideas, are happily coupled by some of those whimsical combinations in which comic wit consists. The diction of Swift is the most complete exam- ple of colloquial ease that verse affords. In aiming at this manner, other vrriters are apt to run into cjuaintness and oddity ; but in Swift not a word or phrase occurs which does not belong to the natural style of free conversation. It is true, this freedom is often indecorous, and would at the present day be scarcely hazarded by any one who kept good company, still less by a clergyman. Yet he has known how to make distinctions ; and while many of his satirical and humorous pieces are grossly tainted with indelicacies, some of his best and' longest compositions arc void of any thing that can justly offend. It is evident, indeed, that Swift, tliough destitute of gcniiis for the sublimev parts- SWIFT. 55 of poetry, was sufliciently capable of elegance, had he not prefeiTed indulging his vein for sarcastic ■wit. No one could compliment more delicately when he chose it, as no one was a better judge of proprieties of behaviour, and the graces of the fe- male character. From the preceding representation, you will conclude that I cannot set you to read Swift's works straight forwards. In fact, your way through them- must be picked very nicely, and a large portion of them must be left unvisited. It should be observ- ed, howevei", to do him justice, that their impurities are not of the moral kind, but are cliiefly such as it is the scavenger's office to remove. The first of his poems which I shall point out to your notice is the longest and one of the most se- rious of his compositions. Its title, " Cadenus and Vanessa," denotes his own concern in the subject ; for Cadenus is Decanus (the Dean) transposed ; and Vanessa is the poetical name of Miss Vanhom- righ, a young lady whose unfortunate love for him met with a cold retui'n. This piece, under an in- genious mythological fiction, contains a fine com- pliment to the lady, and much severe satire on the greater part of her sex, as well as on the foppish part of ours. You must, indeed, in reading Sviift, arm yourself with patience to endure the most con- temptuous treatment of your sex ; for which, if really justified by the low state of mental cultivation among the females of that period, you may console yourself 5& I.ETT3R VI. yourself by the advantageous comparison afforded by that of the present age. The poem does not finibh the real story ; for it says, -what success Vanessa m^t Is to the world a secret yet. The melancholy truth was, that after uniting; himself secretly with another woman, he continued to visit Vanessa, and she retained her hopes of soft- ening his obduracy, till a final explanation broke her heart. This poem was in her possession, and by her direction was published after her death. The " Poems to Stella" will naturally follow. This was the lady to whom the former was sacri- ficed ; but she seems to have had little enjoyment in the preference. His pride, or his singularity, made him refuse his consent to the publication of their marriage, and they continued to live apart as mere friends. Yet he appears to have sincerely loved her, probably beyond any other human be- ing ; and almost the only sentiments of tenderness in his writings arc to be found in tlie poems ad- dressed to her. This affection, however, does not in general characterize them, and the writer's dis- position to raillery breaks out in the midst of his most complimentary strains. A Frenchman would be shocked at his frequent allusions to her advanc- ing years. His exposure of her defects, too, may seem much too free for a lover, or even a husband ; and it is easy to conceive that Stella's temper was fully tried in the connection. Yet a -womari might be swirr. St be proud of the serious approbation of such a man, ■which he expresses in language evidently coming from the heart. They are, indeed, Without one word Of Cupid's dart». Of killing eyes and bleeding hearts ; but they contain topics of praise which far outlive the short season of youth and beauty. How much superior to frivolous gallantry is the applause tea* tified in lines like these I Say, Stella, feel you no content Reflecting on a life well spent ? Your skilful hand enr.ploy'd to save Despairing wretches from the grave. And then supporting with your store Those whom you dragg'd from death before J. Your generous boldness to defend An innocent and absent friend j That courage which can make you just To merit humbled in the dust; The detestation you express For vice in all its glittering dress ; That patience under tort'ring pain Where stubborn stoics would complain } In the lines " To Stella visiting him in sickness,** there is a picture oi/io?iour, as influencing the female mind, which is morally sublime, and deserves atten« tive study : Ten thousand oaths upon record Are not so sacred as her word ; The world shall in its atoms end Ere Stella can deceive a friend ; Sec. There 58 LETTER VI. There is something truly touching in the de- scription of Stella's ministring in the sick chamber, where — ^— with a soft and silent tread Unheard she moves about the bed. In all these pieces there is an originality whicH proves how much the author's genius was removed from any thing trite and vulgar : indeed, his life, character and Avritings were all singularly his own, and distinguished from those of other men. ;May I now, without offence, direct you by way of contrast to the " Journal of a Modern Lady ?" It is, indeed, an outrageous satire on your sex, but one perfectly harmless with respect to yourself or any whom you love. I point it out as an admirable example of the author's familiar and colloquial man- ner. It also exhibits a specimen of his powers in that branch of poetical invention which is regarded as one of the higher efforts of the art. A more ani- mated group oi personijications is not easily to be met with than the following lines exhibit : When, frighted at the clamorous crew. Away t!ie God of Silence flew, And fair Discretion left the place, ' And Modesty, with blushing face. Mow enters overweening Pride, And Stanilil ever gaping wide. Hypocrisy with frown severe, Scurrility with gibing air. Rude Laughter, seeming like to burst, And Malicr, always judging worsta 'And Vanity with pocket-g!r.ss, And Injpudence with front of brass. And study'd Affectation came, Each limb and feature out of frame, r^ While Ignorance, with brain of Icarf, Fiew hov'ring o'er each female head. The poems of Swift are printed in a different or- der in different editions ; I shall therefore attend to no particular order in mentioning them to you. As 1 have commended the last for the easy familiarity of its style, I shall next refer to one %vhich perhaps stands the first in this respect ; and in which, not only the language of the speakers, but their turn of thinking, is imitated with wonderful exactness. This is, " The Grand Question debated, whether Hamilton's Bawn should be turned into a Barrack or a Malt-house." Ti^e measure is that which is classically called anapasstic, chiefly consisting of feet or portions composed of tw© short and one long syl- lable. Next to that of eight syllables, it is the most used for light and humorous topics ; and no kind of English verse runs so glibly, or gives so much the air of conversation. The satire of the piece is chief- ly directed against the gentlemen of the army, for whom Swift, probably through party prepossessions seems always to have entertained both aversion and contempt. It is, however, irresistibly pleasant. Another conversation piece which rivals the last in ease, though not in humour, is " Mrs. Harris's Petition." The singularity of it is the long loose measure iu which it is written, and which indeed, is scarcely ^0 LETTER VI. scarcely to be ceilled verse, though divided into lines terminated Avith rhyme. Swift was fond of oddities 'c>f all ki ■ Sj some of M'hich sink into mere puerili- ties. The number of these, raked together by iri- .judicious editors, w^ould have injured his reputation, had it not been solidly founded upon pieces of real excellence. The story of " Baucis and Philemon," imitated from Ovid, is one of the happiest examples of that kind of humour v/hich consists in modernising an iantient subject in the way of parody. It will be worth your while first to read a translation of the original tale, which you will find in Drydcn's Fa- bles. The dexterity with which Swift has altered it to his purpose, cannot fail to strike you upon the comparison. The particulars of the transformation are fancied with all the circumstantial propriety for v/hich this author is famous, and are described with great pleasantry. The parsoiiifying of Philemon gives occasion to sorhe sarcastic strokes against his own profession, in which he frequently indulged, though he could not readily bear them from others. His imitations from Horace, those, especially, which begin " Harley the nation's great support," and » I've often wish'd that I had clear," are equal- ly excellent. They do not, like the former, bor- row a subject from antiquity, ivut follow allusively the train of thought and incident presented by the original. You must, I fear, be content to lose the pleasure derived from this allujive resemblance ; but you caimot fail of being entertained by the ease and SV.'IFT. 61 ond humour with which he tells his story. In these qualities he is certainly umivalled ; and the pieces in question would afford an useful study to one who should investigate the means by which this air of facility is obtained. The colloquial touches in the followins^- lines are admirable in this view : Tis (let me see) th.ee years and more, (October next it will be four.)— My lord— the honour you design'd— Extremely proud— but I had din'd.— Though many mere eiitertaining pickings may- be made from this author, and even some pieces of considerable length m.ight be safely recommended to your perusal, (as, for example, the " Rhapsody on Poetry," and the " Beast's Confession,") yet I shall bring my remarks \o a conclusion, with the " Verses on his own Death," a piece written in the maturity of his powers, and upon which he evident- ly bestowed peculiar attention. Its foundation is a maxim too well suited to Swift's misanthropical disposition ; and he must be allowed to have illus- trated it with much knowledge of mankind, as Avell as with a large portion of his characteristic hu- mour. Yet it may be alleged, that his temper was too little calculated to inspire a tender affection in his friends, to render the manner in which his death would be received an example for all similar cases. Still it is, perhaps, generally true, that in the calamities of others, E Indiffeteacs €2 LETTER Vr. IndiiTercnce cUd in wisJom's ga'ae All fortitude of mind supplies j and that the ordinary language of lamentation at the decease of one not intimately connected with us, and whose life was not greatly important to our happiness, is little more than, as he has represent- ed it, the customary cant of feeling. We must likewise assent to the remark on the force that sel- fishness gives to sympathy, which he has so finely expressed in the following lines : Yet fl'.ould some neighbour feel a pain Just in the parts wlierc I complain. How many a message he would send ! What hearty prayers that I should mend ! Inquire what regimen I kept, ■U'liat gzvs me ease, and how I slept J And more lamcr.t when I was dead Than all the snivellers round my bed. The lamentations of his female fiiends ovef theit* cards will amuse you, as one of his happiest con» versution-pieces. The greater part of the poem is devoted to the justification of his character and conduct ; and, unless you have acquainted yourself with his life, will not greatly interest you. Indeed, I recollect reading it with greater pleasure in the earlier editions, when there was less detail of this kind. So much may suffice for an author who, upon the whole, is regarded rather as a man of wit than •as a poet. Though inimitable in one style of writing? sv/irT- ■writing, his excellence is limited to that style. His works are extremely amusing, but the pleasure we take in them is abhtctl by ti vein of malignity which 46 too apparent even when he is most r.portive. yarewcU 1 64 LETTER VII. MT DEAR MARY, You doubtless bear in mind, perhaps with some little chagrin, that I tore you, as it were, from the perusal of one of our most charming poets, pre- cisely at the time when it was becoming peculiarly- interesting to you. I then gave you the reason for such an exercise of discipline ; and I am persuad- ed you now feel the benefit of having been intro- duced to various modes of poetic excellence, before your taste was too firmly fixed upon one. I should probably take you a still wider excur- sion before returning to the volumes of Pope, did I not wish to engage you in the study (do not be alarmed at the Avord I) of one of his great perform- ances, for the purpose of enlarging your acquaint- ance with poetic history ; that is, with the person- ages, human and divine, and the incidents, which are so frequently alluded to in modern as well as in antient poetry. I refer to his translation of Ho- mer's " Iliad," a work of remote antiquity, which stands at the head of epic poetry, and has a greater share of fame accumulated around it than perhaps any other literary composition. The Trojan war, its heroes and its gods, are a common fund upon wiiich all poets draw at pleasure. They furnish aa 3*0 PE, 6' 5' an inexhaustible store for simile, allusion, parody, and other poetical uses ; and every writer takes it for granted that all the circumstances belonging to them are perfectly familiar to his reader. More- over, the whole frame of the epic, as a species of composition, is modelled upon the Iliad of Homerj and its companion the Odyssey ; whence the peru- sal of one or both of these pieces ought to precede that of all later productions of the same class. Pope's translations of Homer have always been esteemed as first'^ate performances of the kind ; and indeed, no poetical versions surpass them in beauty of versification and elegance and splendour of diction. They are faithful, too, as far as to the substance of the originals ; they neither omit nor add circumstances of narrative or similes, and they adhere to the general sense of the Greek in speech- es and sentiments. But with respect to the dress and colouring, it must be confessed tliat Pope and Homer differ in all the points that discriminate the V/riters of an age of refinement from those of an age of simplicity. The antient bard, though lofty in his diction where the subject is elevated, relates comm.on things in plain language, is sometimes coarse and frequently dry, and has many passages ■which ex'.iibit nothing of the poet but a sonoroys ■versification. The translator, on the other hand, •never forgets that he is to support the dignity of modern heroics : and though he has too much judgment to scatter ornament with a lavish hand ; yet, to soften what is harsh, to raise what is low, T 2 to 66 LETTER VII. to enrich what is poor, and to animate what is in- sipid, are accommodiitions to a cultivated taste which he does not scruple to employ. The manner of Homer is therefore lost in Pope's representation of him ; and one whose object is to know how a poet wrote three thousand years ago, must have recourse to some version formed upon different principles : of this kind a very good one has been given by the late excellent and lamented Cowper. But as an English poem, Pope's is cer- tainly an admirable work ; and you will derive from it all the instruction on account of which I am now principally recommending it, while at the same time you are improving your relish for the beauties of verse. The Odyssey, though less poetical in the orig- inal than the Iliad, and less indebted to the care of the translator, who employed two uifcrior hands to assist him in his labour, is not less worthy of your attention, on account of the more minute views it gives of the manners of antiquity, and t!ie popular fubles it contains. Some parts of it, likeAuse, es- pecially those including moral sentiment, are ren- dered with exquisite skill and beauty. If the tusk which I have enjoined you should prove tiresome before it is finished, you may inter- pose between the two translations the perusal of the remaining o.iginal works of the same poet ; such, 1 mean, as I can properly recommend to a lady's Yitw. AVhcthcr POFE- 6Y Whether the " Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard" be among this number, is a point which I feel a dif- ficulty in determining ; yet its celebrity will scarcely suffer it to be passed over in silence. They who are afraid of the inflammatory effect of high colouring applied to the tender passion, will ©bject to a performance which, as the most exquis- itely finished of all the aiithor'^s productions, is, from its subject, rendered the more dangerous on that account. And true it is, that if the picture of violent desires, unchecked by virtue and decorum, is to be regarded as too seductive, notwithstanding any annexed representation of the sufferings to which they give rise, not only this poem, but much of the real history of human life, should be conceal- ed from the youthful sight. But surely such a dis- trust of good sense and principle is unworthy of an age which encourages a liberal plan of mental cul- tivation. To be consistent, it ought to bring back that state of ignorance, which was formerly rec- koned the best guard of innocence. The piece in question, it must be confessed, is faulty in giving too forcible an expression to sentiments inconsistr ent with female purity ; but its leading purpose is to paint the struggles of one, who, after the indul- gence of a guilty passion, flew to a penitential re- treat without a due preparation for the change ; of a ....wretch believ'd the spouse of God in vain, Confcss'd within the slave of love and man, Such GS' Letter vir. Such a condition is certainly no object of emula-' tion ; and the poet has painted its miseries with no less force than the inconsiderate raptures which led to it. The impression supposed to be left by the story upon better regulated minds, is that which- prompts the prayer, O may we never love as these have lov'd ? The « Rape of the Lock," styled by the Avriter an heroi-comical poem, though one of his early productions, stands the first among sim.ilar compo- sitions in our language, perhaps in any other. Be- sides possessing the author's chai'acteristic elegance and brilliancy of expression in a supreme degree, it exhibits a greater share of the inventive faculty than any other of his works. The humour of a piece of this kind consists in the mock dignity by •which a trifling subject is elevated into importance. When such a design is executed with judgment, all the parts should correspond ; the moral there- fore should be ironical, and the praise satirical. For attaining consistency in these points, the spirit of the age and the character of the pott were well euited. I must here let you into a secret, which, whik it may justly excite your indignation, may preserve you from deception. That extravagant devotion to your sex which, perhaps, was a serious passion in the age of chivalry, came in process of time, and especially as modified by the licentiousness and Jevity of the French nation, to be a mere affair of compliment. POPE. 6f eompliment. The free admixture of women, ■which gave so much splendour and amenity to the French court, soon vitiated their manners ; and even while they enjoyed the greatest influence, they ceased to be respectable. Wholly occupied with the care of rendering themselves desirable to the men, they neglected the culture of their minds and the duties of their sex. They who possessed beauty, relied upon that solely for their power of attraction ; while those less favoured by nature sought a compensation in the graces. Although thus really debased, they did not exert a less abso- lute dominion over courtiers and men of pleasure as frivolous and vitiated as themselves ; but in the mean time they lost the attachment of the sober and rational, and became objects of contempt to men of wit. In this state of things, the high-flown language of adoration was Intermixed with sly strokes of satire ; and at length, so much irony was joined with the praise, that a woman of sense would have regarded it as an insult. . Pope had been educated in the French school of literature. Kis earliest ambition was to be reckon- ed a man of wit and gallantry in the modish sense ; and having naturally a cold and artificial character, he was well fitted to assume the part most condu- cive to the interests of his reputation. The per- sonal disadvantages, too, under which he laboured, and which precluded his success as a real lover, accustomed him to fiction in his addresses to the sesi I^i LETTER YH. sex, and probably infused a secret exasperation int© his feelings when they were concerned. These observations are meant to be introductory cot only to the burlesque poem before us, but to other pieces, in which the female sex is mentioned in a more serious manner. The Rape of the Lock is particularly admired for the elegant and fanciful machinery introduced into it. Of the use of this part of an epic poem you will now be a better judge, in consequence of your acquaintance with Homer. You will have seen from his works, that its chief purpose is to Taiy and elevate the fable by the ministry of a set of beings different from man, and surpassing him in faculties. That this mixture of supernatural agency is liable to detract from the consequence of the human personages, is an obvious objection to its use in serious compositions, which, however, poets have thought to be counterbalanced by its advantages. In burlesque, the objection has no place. Pope, in his mock-heroic, has adopted a machinery derived from a fantastic kind of philos- ophy termed the Rosycrucian, but with such alter- ations and additions as suited his purpose. He has formed it into one of the most amusing fictions to be met with in poetry ; airy, sportive, elegant, giving scope to descriptions of singular biilliancy, and admirably accommodated to his subject. The mode of action of these fairy-like beings is veiy happily fancied ; and never were guardian spirits better "better adapted to their charge than his Sylphs. It is theirs To save the powder from too rude a gale, Nor let th' imprison'd essences exhale j To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow'rs ; To steal from rainbows ere they drop in show'rs A brighter wash j to curl their waving hairs. Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs. The Gnomes are much less distinctly represent- ed ; but the Cave of Spleen affords a striking spe- cimen of the poet's talents for allegorical personifi- cation, and the figures of IIKnuture and Afiectation are excellent sketches. The story of the piece is a trifling incident that really happened, and, though not of an humorous nature, is well calculated to display that frivolity belonging to every thing in which the fair sex is concerned, which he assumes as the subject of his satire. A favourite figure by which he effects his purpose, is that of comic and degrading parallel j as in the following lines : Whether the nymph shall break Diana's lamr. Or some frail China jar receive a flaw ; Or stain her honour, or her new brocade ; Forget her pray'rs, or ir.iss a masquerade ; Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball ; Or whether heav'n Tias doom'd that Shock most fall. You will smile at these petty effusions of malice* ■which, in truth, have more of flippancy than wit ; and you will not the less enjoy the exquisite polish 'of the style, and dazzling lustre of the imagery, in this T2 LETTSR VII. this performance, which are surpassed by nothing in the language. His parodies of Homer, a species of humour well adapted to the mock-heroic, and ■which he has fnanaged with singular dexterity, Anil particularly eniertain you M-hile you have his trans- lations of that author fresh in your memory. The Rape of the Lcck is our poet's principal ef- fort in that great- province of his art, creation. It might have been supposed that his success in this attempt would have encouraged him to proceed to others of a similar kind : but the exercise of the inventive faculties is the most laborious and ex- hausting of mental operations ; and many writers who have gained reputation by one or two produc- tions of this class, haAC found the exertion too great to be continued. Pope's genius is chielly charac- terized by the talent of expressing the ideas of other men, or the dictates of common good sense, with peculiar beauty and energy. Hence he is an excellent translator, a happy imitator, and a power- ful instructor on moral and critical topics. A per- formance of the latter kind was one of the products of his early youth, and principally contributed to the establishment of his poetic fame. This is his " Es- say on Criticism," a work alxsunding in valuable literary prcct-pts, expressed generally with neat- ness, and often with Ijrillicincy. In poetical merit it stands liigh among didactic pieces ; yet it has ma- ny marks of juvenility in the thoughts, and of in- correctness in the language ; and by no means de- serves to be proposed as a ^uide in the critical art, ritU POPE. V!i Vith that authority which some have ascribed to it. It is, however, well worthy of your perusal : and you will recognize several of its maxims as ha^ing Tec'vived the sanction of popular application. Pope assumes a still more important character -as a didactic poet in his celebrated " Essay on Man." The subject of this work is no less than a philosophical inquiry into the nature and end of ^luman beings ; it therefore comprehends the fun* damental principles both of morals, and of natural religion. As this work is v^ntten upon a system- atic plan, it is proper that the i^sader should en- deavour -to become master of it, and trace the de- sign of the v/hole, and the mutual connexion of the ■parts. This is a serious task, and would be apt to prove irksome to one accustomed to read for mere amusement ; yet Avithout the habit of occasionally fixing the attention upon a grave investigation, the mind will remain feeble and unsteady, incapable of any solid instruction. Writings in prose, which have information for their sole object, are, indeed, best fitted to engage attention of this kind ; nor can it be affirmed that Pope's excellence lay in the clearness and consistency of his argumentative processes. It will be sufficient if you pei'use with care his own view of the general design of this piece, and lis sketches of the contents of each book. Warburton's elaborate commentary, were you even capable of fully comprehending it, would G be 74 LETTER Vir. Le more likely lo mislead than to instruct yoU) since his intention was rather to disguise, than fairly to represent, the system of his author. Af- ter all, the Essay oi\ Man is chiefly remembered ibr the beauty and sublimity of its detached pas- sages, and the elevated sentiments of morality and religion Avhich it inspires, and which stand inde- pendent of tlie particular system in which they are inserted. You may justly admire the energetic conciseness of expression in the reasoning and di- dactic parts, v.hich verify the author's assertion, that he chose poetry as the vehicle of his thoughts, on account of the superior brevity with which he could deliver them in that form. For example, v/liat combination of words could possibly give the sense of the following lines with moi'e precision or in less compass : Most strength the tnoi'ing pnr.c'.ple requires ; y^ctive its task, it prompts, impels, inspires. Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, Torm'd but to check, deliberate, and advise. Sc!f-Ioi»en. — Eecause she's riglt, she's ever in the •wrtng.'^' . With 'svit, or tlie association of distant ideas by some unexpected resemblance, he abounds. Al- most every page affords instances of his inventive powers in this respect j some, truly beautiful ; others, odd and quaint. I shall produce one as a specimen, which you may classify as your judg- ment shall direct i Like cats in airpumps, to subsist we strive On joys too thin to keep the soul alive. There is little of the majestic or dignified in Young's satires ; not that he was incapable of sub- limity, but because the view he took of men and manners generally excluded it. Yet his account in the seventh satire of the final cause of that princi- ple, the love of fame, is introduced by some very noble lines, which Pope could scarcely have sur- passed : Shot from above, by heav'n's indulgence, came This generous ardour, this unconquer'd fiame, To warm, to raise, to deify mankind, Still burning brightest in the noblest mind. By largc-soul'd men, for thirst of fame rcnown'd, WUe kwt were fj|im'd, aad sacred artt were found : Desire Vouxc. S5 l>esirc of praise first broke the patriot's rest, And made a bulwark of the -warrior s breast. The purpose of the passage, indeed, is to offer incense at tiie shiine of royalty ; for Young- bes- towed adulation as largely as censure, and always ^vith a view to his interest ; in which he is disad- vantugeously distinguished from Pope. Two mean- er lines will not easily be found than the following in his praise of queen Caroline : Her favour is diffused to that degree, Excess of goodness ! it has beam'd on me. These are at the close of his second satire on Women ; for his politeness did not prevent hini from employing the lash with even peculiar force on the tender sex. I think, however, you will feel yourself little hurt by these attacks ; foi- his ridicule consists in presenting a series of caricatures, drawn rather from fancy than observation ; and he does not treat the whole sex with that contempt which is perpetually brealving out in the writings of Pope and Swift. Before you, for the present, lay do^vn this author, I will desire you to peruse a piece of descriptive poetry, in w'hich he has shown himself master of a very diiTerent style. This is his " Paraphrase on Part of the Book of Job," a composition in its oiig- H, inal t56 LETTER Villi inal the most svib'inie of those sacred wndngs "vvliich it accompanies, though, as hi all other He- brew poc:lry, its grandeur is allied to obscurity. Young has made liltle addition to tlie primitive im- agery, but has rendered it more cleai' and precise, "while it retains all its force and splendour. The descriptions are not always accurate, and the lan- guage sometimes borders upon extravagance ; but bio object was poetical effect, and this he has produc- ed in an uncommon degree. Thus, after his highly v/rought picture of the lion in his nightly ravages, he fixes aiid concentrates the impression of terroi*, l)y the figure of the flying shepherd, Avho .... shudders at the talon in the dust. This is a stroke of real genius ! Having now made you acquainted with some of the best specimens of rhymed verse, in heroic and famili.U" poetry ; before we take a temporary leave of rhyme, I shall present it to you in a form of fre- quent use in English poetry, chiefly in connexion vith a particular class of topics. That kind of measure in which the heroic line of ten syllables is disposed in stanzas of four verses, of which the rhymes are placed alternately, is usually termed the elegiac. This name is given it, because it lias been thought peculiarly suited to the serious and pathetic stiain of elegy. Formerly, indeed, long HAMWrOND'. 8^ Ibn^ poems of the epic or narrative kind were of- ten composed in this measure ; but although it isr not deficient in majesty, the uniformity of a perpetu- ally recurring stanza appeared tiresome and lan- guid in a performance of considerable length. The necessity, too, of filling up the four lines either ■with a single sentence, or with similar and con- nected clauses, was found an obstacle to the rapid- ity of animated narration, and favoured the inser- tion of trifling and superfluous matter. This ef- fect is less injurious where the subject is of the sen- timental kind : yet it must be acknowledged, that even here, the expression of strong and varied emo- tion does not well comport with the slow and even, march of the elegiac stanza, which is better adapt- ed to the tender and the pensive than to the im- passioned. The " Love-Elegies" of Hammond are among the happiest of this class of com.posldons, both ia respect to their style, and their turn of thought. The latter, indeed, is almost entirely borrowed from Tibullus, a Roman poet, the most admired of the elegiac writers in his language. A classic reader would find much to commend in the ease with which he has transfused the beauties of the original into English, and the skill he has shown in forming new com-positiens out of its detachecT and transposed passages. He has, hov/ever, undcr- |;one some heavy censure for adopting so large a share 86 LETTJitt Vllt. share of the iniral imagery and heathen mythology of Tibullus, which, being with respect to himself purely fictitious, impairs the reality of his assumed character of a lover. And it is true, that his ele« gies have the air of behig the elegant exercises of an academic, rather than the effusions of a heart touched with a real passion. But there is some- thing in the simplicity of pastoral life so sweetly accordant with the tender affections, that the in- congruity of times and manners is easily pardoned, and genuine feelings ai^ excited under feigned cir- cumstances. I am persuaded that, without crit- icising too deeply, you will receive true pleasure from the perusal of tliese pieces, especially from that in which a picture is drawn of connubial love in a country retreat, (Elegy xiii.) with circum- stances only a little varied from those Avhich might really take place in such a situation among our- selves. It is the English farmer who speak-s in the following stanza : With timely care I'll sow my little field, And plant my orchard with its master's hand ; Kor blush to spread the liay, the hook to wicW> Or range my sheaves along the sunny land. lie appears afterwards under a more refined form, but still suitable enough to vifcrme orric'C : What joy to wind along the cool retreat. To stop and gaze on Delia as I go ! To mingle sweet discourse with kisses sweet. And teach my lovely scUoUr all I know ! HAMMOND. 89 I could point out to you another " elegy of De- lia" on the Tibullian model, written by one of your sex whom you love and honour ; Avhich, with equal tenderness, is more purely an English com- position : but happily it has not yet the claim to be quoted among those pieces which are sanctioned by posthumous fame. Farewell 1. H 2 90 LETTER IX. Hitherto, my dear pupil, we have viewed En- glish verse with the accompaniment of rhyme. The device of marking the ends of lines with the recurrence of similar sounds, unknown to Greek and Latin poetry, was introduced in those periods v/hen the Roinan empire was overrun hy the bar- barous tribes of the North, and true taste gave way to puerility and caprice. The modern lan- guages, in their gradual progress to refinement, retained an ornament which long use had render- ed almost indispensable ; and to this day, rhyme is commonly admitted in the verse of every Eu- ropean nation, and to some is regarded as abso- lutely essential. The lyieanness of its origin, and the diflkulties to which it subjects a writer, have, however, pfcduced various attenipts for emanci- pating poetry from what was considered as a de- grading impositio's ; and these attempts have in no country been so well supported as in England. The dramatic writers led the way in the disuse of rhyme ; undoubtedly, because they found that more was gained by such an omission in approx- imating dialogue to common speech, than was lost in disappointing the ear of an accustomed jingle. BLANK VERSE. 91 jingle. After the public had been taught to relish the noble passages of Shakespear and his cotem- porary tragedians in unrhymed verse, it I'equired no extraordinary courage to venture upon the same liberty in other compositions, Avhere the elevation of the matter might divert the reader's attention from a degree of negligence in the form. At length, Milton wrote his Paradise I-ost in blank verse, and its reputation was established. But it is only in one kind of measure, the heroic, that the absence of rhyme has obtained general toleration. In the shorter measures, and in those diversified by lines of different lengths, and com- plicated into stanzas, the practised ear has never been brought to acquiesce in the want of a grat- ification to which it has been accustomed. In« deed, some of these ineasures, as the elegiac, arc entirely dependent on the rhyme. There has been much discussion concerning the comparative merit of blank verse and rhym- ed couplets in the heroic measure; and it is not likely that different tastes will ever, by any pro- cess of reasoning, be brought to agree on this head. It may be useful, however, to give a brief statement of the case. I have already mentioned, that this measure is formed of ten syllables, alter- nately short and long, with the occasional irreg- ularity of two long or tv/o short successively. This produces a modulation so simple, and so little 92 LETTER IX. little difFcrent from prose, that without some art in recitation, it is not easily distinguished to be verse. Moreover, as there is nothing to mark to the ear the tenth or terminating- syllable but the rhyme ; where that is omitted, measure,, properly speaking, is entirely lost in the modern way of' reading, which is directed solely by the sense, and makes no pauses but as indicated by the punc- tuation. If, indeed, a suspension of the sense is always made to coincide with the close of a line, the voice will mark it ; but it is universally agreed,, that such a monotony is one of the greatest faults of blank verse, and that the skill of the composer is principally shown by his judicious variation of the pauses, so that they may fall upon all the dif- ferent parts of the line in turn, though not in any regular order. But such a distribution cuts the matter into portions of unequal lengths ; which renders it a mere fallacy of the m.ode of printing to assign any particular measure to such versifica- tion. Try, for example, to reduce to ten-syllable liifts the following passage of a great master of blank verse, Akenside : " Thee, Beauty, thee the regal dome, and thy enlivening ray the mossy roofs adore : thou, better sun ! for ever beamest on th' enchanted heart love, and harmonious wonder, and delight poetic." I think, BLAXK YERSB. &$" I think, therefore, it must be acknowledged,, that whatever gratification the ear may deriva from the return of equal portions of syllables or combinations of syllables, it is lost in the con- struction of our heroic verse without the aid of rhyme. All that is then left, is the melodious- flow of the periods into which the sentences are divided, produced by a succession of such words- as afford the alternacy of long and short syllables, judiciously broken by an intermixture of others. And the advocates for blank verse contend, that the unlimited variety of pauses consequent upon such an unfettered freedom of versification, is an advantage in poinf of melody, greatly siu'passing the pleasure afforded by a jingle in the sound, which they stigmatize as a childish barbarism. As the only appeal in this case is to a well-exer- cised ear, and to a taste cultivated by femiliarity' with the best models, it will be my object to enable you to judge for yourself on this, as on other poet- ical topics. I shall therefore now offer to your perusal a series of the most eminent writers of blank verse, in different manners, and on various subjects. Whatever the result be with respect to your general preference of this kind of verse, or that which has preceded it, I expect that you will be led to relish v/hat is most excellent in both. There is one circumstance of which I think it proper to apprize you, before you take up any eP tliC M LETTER IX. the authors I mean to recommend. The wntcrt of blank verse have been so sensible of their near- approach to prose in the versification, that they have been solicitous to give their language a. character as different as possible from that of common speech. This purpose, while it has fa-- voured loftiness and splendour of diction, has also too much promoted a turgid and artificial style>. stiffened by quaint phrases, obsolete words, and perversions of the natural order of sentences. "When the subject is something appertaining to common life, this affected statcliness is apt to pro- duce a ludicrous effect. Such has particularly been the case in the poems termed didactic, several, of which have been written in unrhymed verse, on account of the facility with which it is com- posed. I do not mean to put into your hands- productions of an inferior class ; but you will find in some of those which enjoy deserved reputation^ enough to exemplify the fault above mentioned. As, in order to form your taste for versification in rhymed heroics, I thought it right to bring you immediately to one of the masters in that mode of composition ; so I shall now direct you to one ©f the greatest poets, and at the same time of the most melodious composers in blank verse, that our language affords, the immortal Milton ; and ^^^is « Mask of Comub" is the piece with which We will make a commencement, That MIETOS. -ti That kind of drama called a Mask, consisting 'of a fable in which the characters of antient my- Ihology, or abstract qualities personified, ai*e tire actors, frequently employed the invention of Ben Jonson and others of our early dramatists, for the entertainment of the learned an MILTON. 57 *aTik, is a circumstance truly honourable to the hianners of the age. The splendour of poetry- displayed in it was scarcely exceeded by the after-exertions of Milton himself ; but with re- spect to the versification, it may be observed, that he had not yet attained the free and vaiied melo- fiy of his maturer produciions. The pause for many successive lines falls upon the last syllable, producing that monotony, which it is the happiest privilege of blank verse easily to avoid. The measure is occasionally changed to that of seven or eight syllables Avith rhyme, the sprightliness of which well accords with the character of Comus ad- dressing his crew, and with the aerial nature of the Attendant Spirit. Some lines in this measure are remarkable examples of the consonance of sound with sense : Midniglit Shout and Revelry, Tipsy Dance and Jollity : &c. Of this excellence you will meet with many more instances in the two poems which were the next productions of our author, and which I re- commend to your perusal by way of interlude before you proceed to the serious study of his great heroic performance. These are the very popular pieces " L' Allegro" and " II Penseroso," meant as contrasted portraits of the cheerful and the contemplative man, accompanied with the scenery proper to each, The animated strain of the verse, € the 98 LETTER IX. the variety and beauty of the imagery, and the soul of sentiment by which they are inspired^ render them perhaps the most captivating pieces of the descriptive kind that all poetry affords. Tliey are read Avith renewed delight till they are indelibly imprinted on the memory ; and they have given birth to numerous imitations, several of which possess considerable merit. On a crit- ical examination, the attention should be directed to tlie conformity of the scenery and circum- stances of each piece, to the aff'ection respectively intended to be excited ; namely, iimocent mirth, and elevated seriousness. In this view you will find them presenting a double set of pictures, so Well characterised, that there never can be a doubt to M'hlch series they individually belong. If, in- deed, the observation of Jessica in Shakespeai'e be just, (" I'm never merry when I hear sweee music,") the " soft Lydian airs" and " melting voice through mazes running," are somewhat misplaced as one of the pleasures of L' Allegro, though he might be consistently delighted with the " merry bells" and " jocund rebecs." But as you are a practitioner in this art, I leave you to determine the disposition of mind with wluch the different strains of music are accompanied. If, in casting your eye through Milton's smaller pieces, you should be attracted to Ids Monody of " Lycidus," you will meet with a poem of a pe- culiiir cast, concerning which" you v.ill probably fin(l MILTON'. ' 99 ffnd it difficult to fix your judgment. Tributes ©f sorrow to the memory of the dead under the ficUtious form of pastoral were at that time very common, and they have been justly censured by Dr. Johnson and others for that want of reality which almost entirely destroys their interest. In this piece, the ecclesiastical state of the country at that period is allegorical ly shadowed out under the pastoral fiction, and the writer has indulged his serious zeal while lamenting his friend. More- over, it borrows its form from classical imitation, and abounds in allusions drawn from that source. The constructions are also occasionally harsh, and the language obscure. All these circumstances will deduct from your pleasure in reading it ; yet there are passages in which I think you cannot fail to recognize the master-hand of a true poet. I should now proceed to " Paradise Lost," but it will be proper to allow you a pause before en- tering upon so dignified a subject. Adieu then for the present. Yours, Sec. lOQ LETTER X. It will give you an exalted idea of the rank epic poetry holds amidst the productions of human genius, to be told, that there are scarcely half a dozen compositions of this class which have commanded an admiration unlimited by age or country, I believe, indeed, that strict poetical orthodoxy admits in the list of capital epic poems no more than the Iliad of Homer, the Eneid of Virgil, the Jerusalem Delivered of Tasso, and the Paradise Lost of Milton. It might be sus- pected tliat the admission of tlie two moderns into the favoured number was the work of na- tional partiality : but enlightened Europe has long concurred in paying this honour to the Italian, whose language has been sufficiently fa- miliar to the votaries of polite literature in dif- ferent countries, to render them adequate judges of his merit. With respect to the Englishman, it cannot be denied that his own countrymen were till a late period almost exclucively the heralds of his fume : but the increasing preva- lence of the English language, and reputation of its writers, upon the continent, have produced a "sery extended impression of his superior genius ; MILTON. 101 and his peculiar character of the sublimest of poets is acknowledged in Italy and Germany as luuch as in his own country. The " Paradise Lost" is founded upon the his- tory of the Fall of Man as recorded in the book of Genesis, to which Milton has closely and lite- rally adhered as far as it would serve him as a guide. His additions chiefly relate to that inter- ference of superior agents which constitutes the 7nac!unery of the poem, and which his own fancy has erected upon the groundwork of an obscure tradition concerning a defection of the angelic host, headed by Satan, and terminating in the expulsion of the rebels from the celestial mansions. R is peculiar to this poem, that what in others consti- tutes only an appendage to the story, here forms the principal subject ; for, as it was impossible that the adventures of a single pair of human be- ings in their state of simplicity should furnish mat- ter for copious and splendid narration, it was neces- sary for the poet to seek elsewhere for the great fund of epic action. He has therefore exercised his invention in forming a set of superhuman per- sonages, of opposite characters, to whom he has adapted appropriate scenery, and whom he has employed in operations suited to their supposed nature. Thus he has been borne in the regions of fancy to a height never before reached by a poet ; for the most ardent imagination can frame no conceptions J 2 102 LETTER X. conceptions of novelty and eubliniity which may not find scope in scenes where the mightiest of created beings, and even the Creator himself, are actors, and where the field of action is the im- mensity of space, and the regions of heaven, hell, and chaos. At the same time, the plan of the v/ork provides an agreeable repose to the mind fatigued by the contemplation of dazzling wonders, in occasional descents to a new world, fresh in youthful beauty, and as yet the abode of peace and innocence. Milton's genius has been sup- posed best suited to the grand and elevated, chiefly because his subject was most fertile in images and sentiments of that class ; but his pictures of Paradise display ideas of the graceful and beauti- ful, which, perhaps, no poet has surpassed. The excellencies and defects of Paradise Lost have occupied the pens of so many able writers, that I tliink it unnecessary to detain you with any minute discussion of them. You may find some very entertaining papers of Addison in the Spec- tator upon this subject, and some masterly criti- cism by Dr. Johnson in his life of Milton prefixed to the edition of English Poets. I shall, however, make a few general observations in order to pre- pare you for the perusal. It is reckoned essential to every epic poem to- bave a hsroj oxe on ■whom the principal interest; MILTOJf. lOS of the reader is fixed on account of qualities and deeds which excite admiration. Who is the hero of Paradise Lost ? It has been invidiously an- swered—Satan I and certain it is, that as far as courage to dare, fortitude to endure, wisdom to plan, vigour to execute, inviolable fidelity to a party, and a mind unsubdued by change of for- tune, are heroic qualities, he has no competitor in the poem. The angelic host are precluded from the exertion of these virtues by a conscious- ness of that support from almighty power which assures them of victory in the contest ; nor are they, in fact, subjected to any trials which can exalt them, by successful resistance. Adam, whose • weakness is the cause of the great catastrophe, has still less pretension to heroism, although the poet has thrown about him as much dignity as circumstances allowed, and has taken especial care to assert his superiority to his frail consort. If Satan, however, is made an object of admiration on account of his great qualities, the cause in which they are exerted renders him detestable ; and he loses, in the pi'ogress of the poem, all the splendour with which he was invested at the com- mencement. It is, indeed, a poetical fault of the piece, that a character once so conspicuous in it,- should sink to insignificance and contempt befor«- the conclusion. But Milton never forgets his main purpose of inculcating pious and virtuous sentiments. 104 LETTER X. sentiments, and to this, every other consideration is sacrificed. It is in conformity with the practice of other epic poets, that a large part of the narrative in the Paradise Lost consists of a retrospective view of preceding transactions, given in the way of infor- mation by one of the personages. I know not whether, to a plain reader, unbiassed by autho- rity, such a deviation from the natural order of events would prove agreeable. It certainly tends to produce a confusion of ideas, which is scarce- ly rectified till the story has become familiar by a second perusal. Yet there is a spirit and ani- mation in breaking at once into the midst of the action at some important period, that perhaps more than compensates this inconvenience ; and the precipitation of the fallen angels into their infernjd prison is a momentous point of the lus- tory which affords a favourable opening. The anticipation of future events contained in the visionary prospect offered to Adam of his posterity, is also authorised by the practice of other poets ; and is employed to relieve the lan- guor consequent upon the completion of the great incident of the piece. It gives scope to some fine description ; yet I confess it seems to me too much to infringe the uniformity of the erformance ; but what the author intended, he has well executed. He has furnished a store of weighty philosophical and pious maxims, expressed with nervous brevi- ty ; and has exhibited a striking example of pa- tient endurance and resignation in adversity, ac- companied with invincible courage. Indeed, Mil- fe)n had been brought up in no school of passive submission ; and it -is easy to see to what events of his time he alludes in the following spirited lines : Oh ! how comely it is, and how reviving To the spirits of just men long oppress'd. When God into the hands of their deliverer Puts invincible might, To quell the mighty of the earth, tho' oppressor. The brute and boitterous force of violent men^ Hardy and industrious to support Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue The righteous, and all such as honour truth ! His main purpose in this piece was to inculcate inviolable attachment to country and true religion. It has indeed been said that one of his objects in it was to write a satire against bad wives ; and it ■must be confessed that, in the person of Dalila, he ••has not spared them. He has also, still more di- rectly than in Paradise Lost, maintained the divine right of " despotic power" inherent in husbands ; K for 5 TO LETTEH X. for it is not to be concealed, thirt Milton, whom you have seen almost deifyinjj the female sex in liis Comus, was in reality, both by principle and prac- tice, a most lordly assertor of the superiqrity of his own. Though I would wish you to be impress- ed with an almost boundless admiration of the •genius of this great man, and with high venera- tion of his piety and morals, yet I cannot desire you to regard him, in conformity with the repre- sentation of a late panegyrical biographer, as one of the most amiable of mankind. Adieu i rn LETTER XI. The age in which Milton wrote his principal poem, my dear Mary, was, on various accounts, unfavourable to its reception. He had not only the misfortune of lying under the discountenance of the prevailing party on a political account, but the literary taste of the time was become totally adverse to that simple sublimity of language and sentiment by which he is characterised. What that taste was, will herccifter be considered. It gave way at length to another school of poetry ; While, in the meantime, Milton continued to stand alone, an insulated form of unri /ailed greatness. His excellencies, however, gradually impressed the public mind, till he obtained tliat exalted place in posthumous fame among the English poets, which the revolution of another century has only served to render more secure and conspicuous. The period of imitators naturally commenced A'.ith that of his established reputation ; and, indeed, the reign of blank verse in general may be dated from the prevalent admiration of Milton's poetry. "While the Mlltonic style is fresh in your toiemory, it liiay entertain you to peruse one of those 112 LETTER Xr. those writers who professed to copy it with the great- est assiduity. Take up, then, the volun)e contaihing the works of John Philips. The first of his po- ems, entitled " The Splendid Shilling," is a noted piece of burlesque, in which the great poet's dic- tion is happily employed in that grave humour, which consists in clothing a ludicrous subject in lofty terms which have already acquired associa- tions of an opposite kind. It is unnecessary to point out the passages in which this comic resem- blance is most successfully supported : you v.iil readily discover them, and will enjoy the harmless Kiirth this triile was intended to excite. I shall not urge you to read a second descrip- tion of the battle of Blen'ieim, after that in Addi- son's " Campaign." Poetry employed upon such topics caii be expected to interest only while the events are recent, unless they possess extraordinary ■merit, which is by no means the case with this of Pliliips. But liis poem of '' Cyder," which still maintains a respectable place among compositions of its class, inuy be recommended to your notice. You have already had examples of the poems called didactic in Gay's " Trivia," and Pope's »' Essay on Criticism :" but the first of these is rather comic and burlesque than seriously instruc- tive ; and tlie second is more employed in culti- vating the taste, than in laying down rules foj ciilical practice. The poems strictly referable to JOHN PHILIPS. n3 to this department are those in which verse is gravely and methodically applied to the teaching of some art or science ; and of these, many in- stances both antient and modern are to be met with. Of the former, one of the most celebrated is the " Georgics," or Art of Husbandry, of Virgil, which is said to have been a task enjoined upon that poet for political purposes by the prime min- ister of Augustus. Mecjcnas could scarcely be ignorant that real practical instruction in agricul- ture would be better conveyed in plain prose : but it was probably his design to foster a taste for that useful art in the Roman nobility, by allying its precepts with the charms of poetry ; and in that view he could not have chosen his writer more happily. Some other didactic poems may have had a similar purpose of alluring readers to an useful pursuit, by first presenting it to the mind under an agreeable form ; but for the most part, no other motive in composing works of this kind need be looked for, than that of gratifying the per- petual thirst for novelty, which, when more eligible topics are exhausted, directs the choice to the most unpromising, provided they are yet untouclied. That the rules of a practical art are in fact little adapted to shine in verse, is sufficiently obvious, and it is no wonder that some of these didactic at- tempts sink into mere prose. Others, however, iiavc been rendered entertaining and poetical, by the writer's judgment in two points ; first, in K 2 choosing 114 L£TTER XI. choosing a subject connected with grand or beau- tiful objects in nature ; sccoudly, in the skilful use of digressions. Of both these excellencies the Georgics above mentioned afford an example, Avhich has been admired and imitated by muny later poets. The art of making cyder is a branch of rural occupation not unpleasing in its general aspect, and associated with much agreeable imagery. It is the English vintage ; the product of a kind of culture perhaps not less grateful to the senses in all its accompaniments than that of the grape. Pomona is no mean rival to Bacchus, and a Here- fordshire landscape may vie v/ith the scenery of Burgundian hills or Andalusian plains. Philips, liowever, does not ptdnt nature like one deeply enamoured of her charms. His principal art is shown in his digressions, which are well-varied end skilfully managed. The manner in which, after an excursion, he slides back to his orchard and cyder-press, has been much admired : in this, indeed, Virgil was his pattern. I do not, upon the ■whole, pi'esent Philips to you as a great poet ; but liis " Cyder" will serve as a good specimen of the plan and conduct of a didactic poem, and wHl afford you some pleasing imagery. His imitation of Milton's style consists rather in copying some of his singularities of diction, and irregularities of versification, than in emulating his spirit and tlignity. The ARMSTRONSi lis The '• Art of Preserving Health," by Dr. Arm- strong, is, in my opinion, a poem of a much su- perior rank. Its subject will, perhaps, at first view, seem to you too professional, and you may feel as little inclination to study physic in verse as in prose. But the author is in this work more of a poet than of a physician, and you may be assured that his purpose was not to lay open to the unin- itiated the mysteries of his art. In the view he takes of his subject, it is connected with the grand system of the animal economy, both corporeal and mental. The headfe under which he arranges his matter will give you an idea of the variety of en- tertainment you may expect : they are, Air, Diet, Exercise, and the Passions. Of these, three at least are manifestly fertile of poetical imagery, an4 sufficiently detached from technical discussions. Armstrong was well qualified to make use of his advantages : he conceived strongly, and expressed himself with vigour. Sometimes, indeed, his strength is allied to coarseness, and more delicacy in avoiding objects of disgust would have been de- sirable : yet the mixture of this kind is not con- siderable ; and upon the whole, he has presented a succession of images which agreeably affect the imagination. Some passages are eminently poet- ical, and will bear a comparison with similar ones in our most admired writers. One of these is his description of the " Reign of the Kaiads," intro- ductory to his praise of water-drinldng ; 116 lETtER xr. ... .i ....... I hear the diiv Of waters thund'ring o'er the ruin'd cViSi. What solemn twiliglit ! What stupendous sliades Enwrap these infant floods ! Thro' every nerve A sacred horror thrills, a pleasing fear Glides o'er my frame : &c. Moral sentiment is occasionally intermixed vvith good effect, as it is neither obtrusive nor tedious. Thus, the pi'ecepts of temperance happily intro- duce an exhortation to beneficence in imparting the stores of superfluous wealth : Form'd of such clay as yoursi The sick, the needy, shiver at your gates. Even modest want may bless your hand unseen^ Tbo' hiuh'd in patient wretchedness at home. The last of these lines is, to my perceptions, one of the most exquisitely pathetic that I have ever met with. The fourth book is, from its subject, almost entirely moral, and contains many valuable lessons for the conduct of life. The author moralizes, however, like a poet, and addresses the imagin- ation as forcibly as the reason. His Picture of Anger is touched with the hand of a master ; For, pale and trembling. Anger rushes in, With falfring tpcccti, and eyes lliat wildly stare, Fierce DYER. Fierce as the tiger, madder than the seas, Pesp«rate, and rous'd with more than human strength. liY The diction of this poet is natural and unaf- fected, approaching to common language, yet warm and pictvu'esque. Perhaps no blank verse can be found more free from the stiffness and constraint which so commonly characterize it. The versification bears a similar stamp of ease. Without much art in varying its cadences, it has the spontaneous melody which flows from an exer- cised ear, and is never harsh or defective. I shall now put into your hands a specimen of didactic poetry burthened with a topic little favour- able to the muse ; in order that you may discern how far a poetic genius is able to free itself from such an incumbrance, and where it is forced to sink under it. This is " The Fleece" of Dyer, a poet of no mean fame, and who united the art of painting to that of verse. He gives the design of his work in these words : The care of sheep, the labours of the loom. And arts of trade, I sing. The first of these heads is in some tneastire as- sociated with poetry by its connection with pastoral life ; but the practice of a mechanic art, and the details of traffic, seem totally irreconcileable to the character of a species of writing which produces its IIS LETTER SI. its effects by imagery familiar to the generality of readers, or, at least, easily conceived by them. A view of human happiness is, indeed, always capable of aflbrding pleasure ; but the condition of man- kind in a Commercial state is too remote from na- ture and simplicity to produce those situations which poetry delights to represent. An artisan sitting at his work may be a very useful member of society ; but he makes an insipid figure in de- scription, compared to the shepherd piping to his flock, or the huntsman ranging the forest. The spirit of Dyer's " Fleece" is truly didactic, and he has given it all the regularity which would have been expected in a prose work on the same subject. In his first book he is a breeder of sheep ; in his second, a wool-stapler ;. in his third, a weaver ; and in his fourth, a merchant. In all of these capacities his object seems to be serious instruction, and he leaves no part of the topic untouched. He teaches, however, like a poet, and neglects no opportunity of uniting entertainment with precept. He judiciously dwells most upon those parts which afford matter for sentiment or poetical description ; and frequently digresses into collateral paths which lead to scenes of bcawty, and even of grandeur. He has also the merit of tnuch local and appropriate imagery, which I have reason to notice with gratitude, on account of the fio we.rs which I have borrowed from, his work for the D rER. ^ lis the decoration of nay " England Delineated.'* Every where he shows himself a man of benevo- lent and virtuous princ pies, and a good patriot. Vou will be warmed with the praises of Britain in his first book ; " Hail, noble Albion," &c. ; and you Avill admire the dexterity with v/hich he has turned to its advantage that humidity of its cli- mate, which has been so often made a topic of splenetic reproach : ; round whose stern cerulean brows White-wing'd snow, and cloud, and pearly rain. Frequent attend with solemn majesty : Rich queen of Mists and Vapours ! these thy sons With their cool arms compress, and twist their ner\'c» For deeds of excellence and hi^> renown. This passage, contrasted with Armstrong's bit* ter philippic against the climate for the very same reason, curiously exemplifies the different Avays in which a circumstance may be considered by minds differently disposed. The work before us possesses great variety^ but I will not affirm that it is calculated to please all tastes. To many I apprehend it must appear essentially unpoetical in its subject ; and the per- petual reference to purposes of trade and commerce will, to some nice perceptions, give a taint of vul- garity to his 'highest-wrought descriptions. I shall leave you to talte as much or as little of it 120 LETrE'a "XI. Jts your inclination may prompt ; and I shall not desire your further attention to a class of compo- sitions which, after every effort, must remain the least inviting of the products of the poetic art. Before we dismiss this writer, let us take no- tice of the two other poems by his hand, which maintain a respectable place in the descriptive class. His " Grongar Hill" is perhaps the most pleas- ing piece in the language, of those which aim at local descripticMi. No attempt, for the most part, is less successful, than that of imparting by words, ars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie. It appears to me that this performance has not enjoyed its due share of reputation. The subject ii peculiarly happy, and its execution must surely bi; allowed to display no common measure of po- etical genius. Adieu I Yours, "tf:z, 123 LETTER XIL Still keeping in the walk of blank ver&e, I no^r, my dear Mary, offer to your perusal a poem, in "vvhich the art is employed in unfolding its own nature and origin. The " Pleasures of the Imag- ination" by Dr. Akenside is a piece of the phi- losophical or metaphysical kind, the purpose of which is to investigate the source of those delights which the mind derives from the contemplation of the objects presented to the senses by nature, and also from those imitations of them which are pro- duced by the arts of poetry and painting. You have already had examples of the manner in which moral and theological argumentation ally them- selves with poetry : and perhaps the effect has been to convince you that reasoning and systsm- buiiding are not the proper occupations of verse. If this be admitted as a general truth, an exception may be pleaded for reasonings of which poetry it- self is the object ; especially if the positions ad- vanced are made good rather by illustration, thr^n" by logical demonstration. The work before us affords a proof of the justness of such an excep- tion ; for a more spltRdid poem, more replete, with rich aad lofty imagery, will not easily be ICiiuu 1.JI LETTER Xir. found within the range of English composition. It is true, a previous habit of speculation, and an acquauitance Aviih the comiTion theories of the human mind, are requisite for entering into it ■with a thorough relish, nor can it be fully com- prehended without a close and attentive perusal. It is not calculated, therefore^ to become a favour- ite with cursory readers, who Avill always prefer the easy gratification afforded by narrative and descriptive poetry, I recommend it to you, how- ever, as an instructive exercise, which, in the first instance, will usefully employ the intellectual faculties, and will furnish your memory with a store of exquisite passages, formed to dwell upon the mind after they have been well fixed by a clear view of the whole plan of which they are a part. It will be an useful preparation to read those papers of Addison, in the Spectator, on the Pleasures of the Imagination, which have served for the groundwork of ti;is poem, and which are very elegant and beautiful prose compositions. Akenside's own account of his design, and the Iseads of his books, should also be attentively pe- rused. I do not fear the imputation of partiality in further recommending to you Mrs. Barbauld's critical essay on this poem, prefixed to an orna- Biented edition of it pvibiished by Cadcll and Da- ■vics. You cannot meet with a guide of more ac- knowledged taste and inttiiigencc. The^ AfCEXSlDE. ^^5' The versification of Akensidc is perhaps the most perfect specimen of blank verse that the lan- guage affords. If it has not the coir.pass of mel- oJy sometimes attained by Milton, it is free from his inequalities. Not a line is harsh or defective, and the pauses are continually varied with the skill of a master. His diction is equally the result of cullivation. It is rich, warm, and elegant ; highly adorned when the su.bject favours orna- ment ; chastely dignified at other times ; but never coarse or negligent. It might, perhaps, be accused of stiffness, were his topics more allied to common life : but a philosophical disquisition may demand a language remote from vulgar use ; and his particular school of philosophy was accustom-- ed to a stately phraseology. His sentiments are all of the elevated and generous kind ; his morality is pure and liberal ; his theology simple and su- blime. He was the perpetual foe cf tyranny and superstition, and stands prominent in the rank of' the friends of light and liberty. Another considerable performance of this au- thor, also in blank verse, is his " Hymn to the Naiads." The character of one of the moat clas- sical poems in the English language will perhaps- "but dubiously recommend it to your favour. In feet, it sounds the very depths of Grecian mythol- ogy ; and a mere English reader may well be. startled at the mystical solemnity with wtich his •' song begins." t 2 1-6 LETTER Xir. First of things Were Love and Chaos. Love, the sire of Fate, Eider than Chaos. If, however, you will venture upon reading- a piece v/ith the chance of but half understanding it, you may derive sonfie fine ideas from this ilymn, which is a product of poetry as well as of erudition. Tlie " Inscriptions" which follow are written upon the same classical model of lofty simplicity. They possess imagery and sentiment, but are too stiff and studied to interest the feelings. I shall reserve the " Odes" of Akenside for a future oc- cuision. It would be strange if among the writers in blank, verse an early place were not allotted to the well-known name of Thomson. The "^ Seasons" of that amiable Avriter yields, perhaps, to no other English poem in popularity ; and, being of the descriptive kind, would properly have been one of the first offered to your notice, had not a prece- dence been given to the eompotitions in rhymed verse. It is the most considerable of all the po- ems which have description £br their direct object ; for altliough the moral and religious lessons to be deduced from a survey of nature ^vere probably before the author's mind when he fixed upon his plan, yet they arc rather the improvements of his subject THOMSOK. It7 subject than an essential part of it. The succes- sive changes in the face of external nature, as modified by the changes of the year, are the proper argument of his work. Each of the four Seasons, hidecd, is a separate piece, having its dis- tinct opening and termination ; and nothing ap- pears to connect them into a general design but the conchiding Hymn. They really, however,, form a whole ; for they compose the natural his-^ lory of the year ; a period marked out by astro- nomical laws for a complete circle of those inci- dents and appearances which depend upon the in- fluence of the sun upon our earth. In all the tem- perate climates this revolution also has a simili- tude to that round of being which is comprehended in the life of man. The year may be said to com- mence its birth with the revival of nature from the torpidity of winter. The season of Spriiig, there- fore, is its infancy and youth, in which it puts forth the buds and blossoms of future increase. The Summer is its manhood, during which its fruits are successively proceeding to maturation. The Autumn completes its maturity, collects its stores, Abates its ardour, and at length delivers it to the chill decline and fmal extinction of Winter.- In this parallel consists that personification of the year which gives unity to its poetical history. The seasons arrange themselves into natural ordei', like the acts of a well-constructed drama, and the catastrophe is brought about by an inevitable cause. But T2;8 TETTER XII. But altliouf^li Thomson found the p;encl'al Oi.t- line of his woik ready drawn to las hand, yet to fill it up adequately required both a copious stock - of ideas, and judgment for selecting and dispos- ing them. It also demanded in an eminent degree that warmth and force of pointing which might give an air of novelty to objects for the most part familiar to his readers. Further, as a series of mere descriptions, however varied, could scarcely fail to tire in a long work, it was requisite to ani- niate them by a proper infusion of sentiment. Man was to be made a capital figure in the land- scape, and manjirrs were to enliven and dignify the rural scene. Nor would the character of this ^vriter suffer him to forget the Great Cause of all the wonders he described. In his mind religion mingled itself with poetic rapture, and led him from the glories of creation to the greatness of the Creator. All the changes of tlie year are re- garded by him but as " the varied God ;" ami tHs conception affords another point of union to the miscellaneous matter of the poem. It is an advantage of the laxity of Tlioir.son's plan^ that it lays him under no obligation to enter into details of an unpoetical nature. Of natural phsenomcna or liuman occupations he is only bound to take such as sufficiently mark the re- volving seasons ', and of these there is an ample choice capubic of b;jing rendered stiiking and agreeable TIIOMSOK. * i2S agreeable in description. He is not, like the poet of the Georgics, obliged to manure and till the soil before he paints the harvest waving in the wind ; or, like Dyer, after the cheerful sheep- shearing scene, compelled to follow the wool into the comber's greasy shop. Art and nature lie be- fore him, to copy such parts of their processes as are best fitted to adorn his verse. The proper scene of the Seasons is the poet*s native island, and the chief fund of description is afforded by British views and manners. Yet he has not thought it necessary to confine himself to these limits when any kindred subject suggested itself, capable of adding grandeur or beauty to his draughts. Thus he has exalted the splendour of his Summer by a picture of the climate and pro- ductions of the torrid zone ; and has enhanced the horrors of his Winter by prospects taken from the polar regions. He has also introduced many views of nature of a general kind, relative to the great system of the v.'orld, and derived from the sciences of astronomy and natural philosophy. These strictly appertain to his subject, as present- ing the causes of those changes in the appearances of things which he undertakes to describe. The ■magnitude and sublimity of these conceptions ele- vate his poem above the ordinary level of rural description ; whilst at the same time he has ju- diciously avoided any parade of abstruse specula- tion 130 lETTER XII. tion which might prove repulsive to the generaltt^ of his readers. So extensive is the range which his subject fairly perniits him to take, that there is little in his -vvork which can properly be called di- gression. The most deserving of this title are his descants upon civil polity, and his sketches of characters drawn from history, which have but a remote and forced connection with his peculiar topics. Thomson was one of the first of our poets -who ventured upon minute and circumstantkil descrip- tion. He viewed nature v.ith his own eyes for the purpose of copying her ; and was equally attentive to the beauty and curiosity of her smaller v»'orks, as to her scenes of awful grandeur and sublimity. His mind, however, seems most in unison with the latter, and he succeeds in his pictures, in propor- tion to their magnitude. His language also is best suited to themes of dignity : it is expressive and energetic, abounding in compound epithet* and glowing metaphors, but iijclining to lurgidity, and too stiff and stately for famiiiar topics. He wants the requisite ease for narrative ; and his stories, though interesting from the benevolence and tenderness of the sentiments, are to!d without grace or vivacity. He has only once attempted a scene of humour, and has entirely failed. In the art of versification he does r.ct excel. His lines are xacno'.onousj and afford few examples of pleasing melody. THOMSON. 151 tnelotly. They are such blank verse as is com- posed with littk effort, and indulges the indolence of the writer. But whatever may be the defects of this poem. It is one that can never cease to give delight as long as nature is loved and studied, and as long as liberal and dignified sentiments find sympathetic breasts. No poetical performance may more con- fidently be recommended to the juvenile reader, whose fondness for it is one of the most unequiv* ocal marks of a pure and well-disposed mind. IVIake it the companion of your walks ; lay it beside you on the garden-seat ; and doubt not that its perusal will always improve your sensi- bility to the charms of nature, and exalt your ideas of its great Creator. You will have discovered from the Seasons that Thomson was an ardent friend of civil liberty, and he lived at a time when writers of such a spirit met with distinguished patrons. Thus doubly in- spired, he devoted a large share of his exertions to the cause of freedom, and particularly compos- ed a long work under the title of " Liberty." As it is my present purpose to direct you solely in your poetical reading, I have no business to enjoin you a political task ; and this piece of Thomson is. In fact, little more than history in blank verse. Its sentiments are generous and soundly constitu- tionaly and some of its pictures are well drawn { but 132 LETTER Xir. but it has more of the rhetorician than of the poet, and its general effect is tediousness. His " Biitannia" is a smaller work written for the pur- pose of rousing the nation to war — you will prob- ably pass it by. Nor can I much recommend to you his " Poem on the Death of Sir Isaac New- ton," the sublime conceptions of which are only to be comprehended by one familiar with the phi- losophy of that great man, and to such an one would appear to no advantage. This may suffice for the blank verse compositions of Thomson : we shall hereafter meet with him upon other ground. But I have given you enough to occupy your attention for some time j so-, for the present, farewell ! 13: LETTER XIII. Somerville's poem of " The Chace" is another production in blank verse which, I think, ■will repay J'our perusal. The subject, indeed, cannot be sup- posed highly interesting to a yoving lady, Avhose occupations and amusements have been properly feminine : but you may feel a curiosity to be in- formed what those delights are, which prove so captivating to our rougher sex ; and may receive pleasure from the new views of nature opened by the scenes here represented. Although this woik assumes the didactic form, and the poet speaks of his " instructive song," yet I regard it as almost purely descriptive ; for it cannot be supposed that our sportsmen would deign to learn their art from a versifier, and the ordinary reader of poetry has r.o occasion for instruction on these points. I observe, hov/ever, that a prose " Essay on Hunting," writ- ten by an able, practitioner, makes large quotations from Somerville : which I consider as a valuable testimony to his accuracy in desciiption. You will probably pass lightly over the directions concerning the discipline of the kennel, and dwell chiefly upon the pictures of the different kinds of M. chace. 134 LETTER xnr. chace. These are wrought ■with a spirit which Indicates them to be copied from reality, and by one Avho felt all the enthusiastic ardour Avhich these pastimes are calculated to inspire. If you compare them -with the corresponding draughts in Thorn son*s Seasons, you will perceive the dif- ference betv/een a cold reflecting spectatoi', and an impassioned actor. Perhaps, however, you \vill be most entertained with the scene he has drawn from the description of travellers only, assisted by his imagination ; I mean his splendid view of a chcce conducted with all the parade of oriental magnificence, and of which the objects are some of the noblest of quadrupeds. He has \vrought this v.ith much poetical skill, and it forms a striking variety in the piece. Indeed, there would be danger of his throwing his Eng- lish pictures quite into the shade, did not the mi- nute and animated touches of the latter compen- sate for their want of grandeiu'. In his stag hunt he has decorated the canvas with the ladies of the coiu't, who at that time Were accustomed to par- take in this diversion ; i\nd though Thomson has represented the exercise of the chace as incon- Bistcnt with feminine softness, yet it would be A fastidious delicacy not to admire Tlieir garments loosely waving In tlie Wind, And all tlic flu»h o( beautv in tbetr ciicek^ The SOMERVILLE. 135 The rapture with which this poet has repeatedly described the 77iuszc of the chace will probably give you a longing to hear such heart-cheering melody ; but much of its effect is owing to associa* tion, and would be lost upon one who did not follow it over hedge and ditch, I question, how- ever, whether the most elaborate strains of modern music could produce an effect so animating as that represented in the following lines : wing«d zephyrs waft the floating joy Thro' all the regions near ^ afflictive birch Vo more the school-boy dreads r his prison broke, Scamp'ring he flies, nor heeds his master's call : The weary traveller forgets his road. And climbs th' adjacent hill : the ploughman leave* Th' unftnish'd furrow ; nor his bleating flocks Are now the shepherd's joy : men, boys and girls Desert th' unpeopled village ; and wild crowds Spread o'er the plain, by the sweet phrensy seiz'd. These are feasts worthy of Orpheus himself, and are related with a spirit congenial to the sub- ject. The diction of Somerville is vv-ell suited lo the topics which he treats. It is lively and natui'- al, and free from the stiffness usually accompany- ing blank verse. His versification possesses the correctness and variety which denote a practised ear. There remains among the blank verse poems a very celebrated work, of a kind tot.iHy different from 136 LETTER XIII. from those •which we have hitherto considered, the " Night Thoughts" of Dr. Young. The originality and high reputation of this performance undoubtedly entitle it to the notice of all students cf English poetry : yet I feel some hesitation in speaking of it to you in recommendatory terms. Against any bad effect it might have upon your literary taste, I think you are sufficiently fortified by the number of excellent productions v.hich have been submitted to your perusal ; but I can- not be so secure with respect to its influence \ipon your sentiments in more important points. •' What ! (it will be said) can you doubt to put into the hands of a female pupil the admired work cf the pious and seraphic Young ?" A short vievr cf the spirit in which he wrote it, and the system lipon which it is formed, will exphin my doubts. The writer was a man of warm feelings, ambi- tious both of fame and advancement. He set out ill. life upon an eager pursuit of what is chiefly valued by men of the world ; attached himself to patrons, some of them such as moral delicacy would have shunned, and was not sparing in adu- lation. His rewards, however, were much inferior to his expectations ; he lived, as he himself says, " to be so long remembered, that he was forgot," iind he was obliged to bury his chagrin in a coun- ti-y parsonage. He also met vsitli domestic losses of tlie most afl'ecting kind, and he possessed little viyrour TOL'NG. IST' vigour of mind to bear up against misfortune In this state he sat down to write his " Complaint," (for that is the other title of the Night Thoughts,) at a time when he was haunted v.ith the " ghosts of his departed joys," and every past pleasure « pained him to the heart." His first object, therefore, is to dress the world in the colours of that " night" through which he surveyed it ; — to-- paint it as a scene Where's nought substantial but our misery j Where joy (if joy) but heightens our distress. In his progress he endeavours to pluck up by the roots every comfort proceeding from worldly hopes of human philosophy, and to humble the soul to the dust by a sense of his own vileness, and the inanity of every thing terrestrial. This prepares the way for the administration of the grand and sole remedy for the evils of life. ...the hope of immortality as presented in the Christian revelation. His view of this scheme is of the most awful kind. He conceives a wrathful and avenging God, on the point of dooming all his oflPending, that is, all his rational, creatures to eter- nal destruction, but diverted from his purpose by the ransom paid in the sufferings and death of his Son. I do not take upon me to pronounce concerning the soundness of his theology ; but so deep is the gloom it spreads over his whole poem, M 2 tlxat, 1 3S LETTER XIII. that, in effect, it overpowers the light of his conso- Icvtion. There is a kind of captious austerity in all liis reasonings concerning the things of this Avorld, that charges with guiit and folly every at- teinpt to be happy in it. Every circumstance is dwelt upon tl'.at can image life as vain and misera- ble ; and lest any gladsome note should cheer the \i"ansitory scene, he perpetually sounds in the ears the knell of death. Such a picture of this world, 1 am sure, is ill calculated to inspire love for its Creator ; and I think it as little fitted to foster the mutual charities of life, and put men in good humour with each other. What a contrast to the amiable theology of the Seasons I I cannot wish t'.ierefore that the X'ght Thoughts should become your favourite.. ..that you should ponder over it, and make it your closet companion. Yet, as a work of genius, it is certainly entitled to admiration ; and many of its striking sentences concerning the abuse of time, the vanity of frivo- lous pursuits, the uncertainty of human enjoy- ments, and the nothingness of temporal existence compared to eternal, are well worthy of being impressed upon the memory. No writer, perhaps, ever equalled Young in the strength and brilliancy ■which he imparts to those sentiments which are fundamental to his design. He presents them in every possible shape, enforces them by every ima- -ginable argument, sometimes compresses them iulo •you KG. ISf into a maxim, sometimes expands them into a sentence of rhetoric, sets them off by contrast, and illustrates them by similitude. It has already been observed, in speaking of his Satires, ho\r much he abounds in antithesis. This work is quite overrun with them ; they often occupy sever- al successive lines ; and while some strike with the force of lightning, others idly gleam like a meteor. It is the same with his other figures : some are almost unrivalled in sublimity ; many are to be admired for their novelty and ingenuity ; many are amusing only by their extravagance. It was the author's aim to say every thing wittily ; no wonder, therefore, that he has often strayed into the paths of false wit. It is one of his char- acteristics to run a thought qiiite out of breath ; so that what was striking at the commencement, is rendered flat and tiresome by amplification. Indeed, without this talent of amplifying, he could never have produced a work of the length of the Night Thoughts from so small a stock of funda- mental ideas. I ' cannot foresee how far the vivacity of his style, and the frequent recurrence of novel and striking conceptions, will lead you on through a performance which, I believe, appears tedious to most readers befoi-e they arrive at the termination. Some of the earlier books will afford you a com* plete specimen of his manner, and furnish you ■with 140 LETTER XIII. with some of his finest passages. You -Vfill doubt- less, not stop short of the third book, entitled " Narcissa," the theme of which he character- ises as Soft, modest, melancholy, female, fair. It "will show you the author's powers in the pathetic, where the topic called them forth to the fullest exertion ; and you will probably find that he has mingled too much fancy and playfulness with his grief, to render it highly affecting. The versification of Young is entirely modelled by his style of writing. That being pointed, sen- tentious, and broken into short detached clauses, his lines almost constantly are terminated with a pause in the sense, so as to preclude all the varied and lengthened melody of which blank verse is capable. Taken singly, however, they are gener- ally free from harshnessj and sometimes are emip nently musical. I now dismiss you from your long attendance on the poets of this class, and remidn Your ti'uly affectionate, &c. r ui 1 LETTER XIV. In restoring you, my dear Mary, to the coinpany of those writers who have cuhivated English po- etry in what is generally deemed its most pleas- ing and perfect form, it is my intention without delay to enlarge your acquaintance with different modes of versification, and to familiarize your ear "u ith those specimens of it which have proved most agreeable to refined judges. We will begin with a poet who has employed more art and study in his compositions than almost any other ; in consequence of which they are few, but exquisite in their kind. This is Gray, a man of extensive erudition and highly cultured taste, whose place is generally assigned among the lyr- ical writers, though his cast of genius would have enabled him to attain equal excellence in any other form of elevated poetry. The " Odes" of Gray are pieces of great diver- sity both with respect to subject and manner. The « Ode on Spring," and that " On a distant Prospect of Eton College," unite description with moral re- flection. In the first of these the imagery has little novelty, but is dressed in all the splendour- and 142 LETTER Xir. and elegance of poetical diction. You will remark the happy choice of picturesque epithets in such instances as " fieopled air," " busy murmur," " hon- ied spring," Sec. in which a whole train of ideas is excited in the mind by a single word. The sec- ond is new in its subject, and the picture it draws of the amusements and character of the puerile age is very interesting. Yet the concluding imagery of the fiends of vice and misfortune, watching in ambush to seize the thoughtless victims on their entrance into life, presents one of the gloomiest views of human kiaid that the imagination evei formed. The author's melancholy ca':}t of thought appears vith more dignity and moral instruction in his <* Hymn to Adversity," which, if not one of the most splendid, is perhaps the most finished of his compositions. The sombre celouring, relieved Tvith the brighter touches of benetolence, admira- bly harmonijses with the subject. I do not mean to make remarks on all Gray's smaller pieces ; but his " Fatal Sisters," from the Norse tongue, is worthy of observation, not only for the new vein of mythological imagery which it and the subsequent piece open, but on account of its measure. This consists of stanzas of four Hnes, each composed of seven syllables, long and •hort alternately. If its effect upon your ear re- ♦embles that upon mine, you will feel it to possess extraordinary feRAt. US fcxtraovdinary spirit and animation, and to be sin* gularly fitted for subjects of warmth and action. The two Pindaric Odes of this writer are the -productions which have principally contributed to his eminence among lyric poets. The term pm* daj-ic, oi-iginally derived from the name of the celebrated Greek poet, had been assumed by Cow^ ley and others to denote compositions which were characterised by nothing but their irregularity. This character extended not only to their subjectSj but to their versification, which consisted of verses of every length and modulation, forming unequal stanzas, without any I'eturn or repetition of the same measures. But this laxity was found not to be justified by classical example, which, in its cor» rect models, provided regular returns of similarly constructed stanzas. On this plan Gray has fram* ed the versification of his two odes ; and upon examination you will find in each the mechanism of a ternary of stanzas trebly repeated in corres* ponding order. Whether much is gained by this artifice in point of harmony, you will judge from your ovm. perceptions : to me, I own, the return seems too distant to produce the intended effect ; and in reading, I am unable to take in more than the melody of the current stanza. The measures, however, considered separately, are extremely me- lodious, and in general well adapted to the sense. Probably the English language does not afford ex* •amples of sweeter and licher modulation. The 144 I,ETTE"R Xir. The Greek motto prefixed to the first of these odes, " The Progress of Poesy," implies that it was addressed to the intelligent alone ; and indeed a familiarity with antient learning greater than falls to the lot of most readers, even of the male sex, is requisite for entering into its hcauties. If you should be able to discover little more in it than fine words and sonorous verses, you need not be greatly mortified : even critics have misunderstood it, and scholars have read it ^^'ith indifference. The truth is, that no poem can be interesting AAith- ' out a.n express subject perspicuously treated ; and that obscure allusions and shadowy images can make no strong and durable impression on the Tnind. The proper theme of this piece is lost in glittering allegory, and the illustrations are too scanty and too slightly touched to answer their purpose. The " Bard" has gained more popularity, be- cause it begins with presenting to the imagination ^ distinct historical picture of great force and •sublimity, and such as might be transferred to canvas with striking eflect. The figure of the prophetic poet on his rock, the " long array" of •Edward winding down the side of Snowdon, the awe-struck and alarmed chieftuins, are conceived in a truly grand style. The subsequent sketches from English history, though touched with the obscurity of prediction, yet present images suf- ficiently distinct, when aided by the previous knowl- edge BRAT. 145 edge of the reader. There is, however, too much of enigma in the lir.es hinting at the future race of Englibh poets, nor does their introduction seem v/eil suited to the awful situation of the speaker, A poet of more invention, too, would have avoid- ed the sameness of aihiding to Shakespeare and jNIiUon at the close of both his odes. A greater fault appears to inc the fiction of the inagical ivcb^ borrowed from the Scandinavian superstition. It has no proper place in the costume of a Wehh bard ; and (what is a greater incongruity) the weaving is only imaginary, since the Bard's fellow- labourers are spirits of the dead : it could not, therefore, upon any supposition, operate as a cause of the disastrous events which are depicted. Yet this notion is clearly implied by the lines Now, Brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doora. A poet has a right to assume any system of supernatural machinery he pleases, as if it were a real mode of operation, provided he be consistent in the use of it. But it was Gray's talent to gather from all parts of his multifavious reading, images and even expressions, that struck him as poetical} which he inserted in his compositions, some- times with happy effect, sometimes with little at- tention to propriety. Thus, in this poem, borrow- ing Milton's noble comparison of Satan's great N standard 145 LETTER XIV. standard to a " meteor streaming to tire wind^" he applies it to the " beard and houry hair" of the bard ; where it is altogetlier extravagant. TliC work of this poet which readers of all classes have most concurred in admiring is his *• Eiegy in a Country Church-Yard." No per- formance of the elegiac kind can compare with it either in splendour or in dignity. Not a line flows negligently ; not an epithet is applied at random. Sensible objects are represented with every pic- turesque :;ccompanimeiit, and sentiments are im- pressed ■\^'lth all the force of glowing and pointed diction. The general stridn of thinking is such as meets the assent of every feeling and cultivated mind. It consists of those reflections upon human life wliicli inspire a soothing melancholy, and pe- culiarly accord with tliat serious and elevated mood in which true poetry is most relished. There are, however, some obscure passages ; and the coiincxion of the thouglits is not always mani- fest. It may also be questioned whether a good efiect is produced by calling off the attention from Jthe real fortunes and characters of the inhabitants of a village, to those of the imaginary poet with whose epitaph the pii.ce concludes. There seems no reason why we should be introduced to him at all, unless curiosity were to be better gratified conceriiing him ; and his address to himself, ('• For thee, w ho mir.duil uf th' unl.oncur'd dead,") with ■with the subsequent account of his own death, strangely confuses the reader's imagination. Nct- "tvilhstanding these defects, however, tliis poem has merited that extraordinary popularity which has been testified by innvimerable imitations, parodies, and translations into antient and modern languages. Its success affords a remarkable proof of the power of poetry, which, by the charm of melodious veisc and splendid diction, could raise so much admira- tion and interest from so slender a fund. The fragments of great undertakings to be met ■with in Gray's works show that nature had not been bountiful to him in the faculties requisite for a poet of the first class, and that his vein, Avhen not supplied from the stores of memory, was scon exhausted : for it would be too indulgent to sup- pose that he could have finished tl.ese designs in the spirit with which he commenced them. The finest of these, the " Essay on the Alliance cf Ed- ucation and Government," is a noble specimen of heroic poetry ; but it is evident that he had lav- ished away the most picturesque ideas belonging to his subject, and had run his fancy out of breath. The name of Masox, the fiicnd of Gray, has generally accompanied his as a modern competitor for the lyrical laurel ; and although the late period to which he survived has prevented his works from being inserted in the collections of English poets, yet 14 8 LETTEn xir. yet I shall recommend to your perusal such cf them as are found in a volume printed many years ago, and received "^tith public approbation. These chiefly consist cf Odes, Elegies, and Dramatic Foems. The Odes of this v/riter bear the same character of high polish and elaborate effort which distin- guishes those of his friend. Every artifice which has been practised for elevating language into po- etry is sedu!ou;>Iy employed, ar.d ornaments are scattered throughout with a lavish hand. The ef- fect produced is that the reader's attention is rather drawn to the detail, than to the plan and general scope of his pieces. They resemble an apartment richly furnished, and adorned with a profusion of carving and gilding, over which the eye wanders from part to p:vrt, little regarding the symmetry of the whole, or the company which occupies it. Af- ter reading an ode of ^lason, no one distinct im- pression dwells on the mind, but a confused recol- lection of glittering imagery and melodious verse. The abstract nature of their subjects generally precludes interest, and they neither waim to en- thusiasm nor melt to sympathy. Yet their splen- did descriptions and cxalled sentiments indicate no ordinary measure of poetical jwwers, though per- haps mibled in their application by a false taste. Where the author's propensity to de^iate into the flowery paths of digressive imagery was controlled by an aiiimulcu subject, he has shown himself not deficient MASON. 149 deficient in spirit and energy. That ode in " Carac- tacus" beginning Hark ! heard ye not yon footstep dread, v.'as admired by Gray as one of the sublimest iti the Urnguage. It is to be lamented that an air of puerility is thrown over it by the petty artifice of alliteration, which is repeated so as to become almost ludicrous : I mark'd his mail, I mark'd his shield, I spy'd the sparkling of his spear. Deal the dole of destiny ; &c. The reduplication of the same letters in these lines gives such an appearance of studied trifling, that good taste would have rejected it if offering itself unsought, instead of taking pains to search for it. A chastised judgment will, I believe, sel- dom approve a more liberal use of this device, than occasionally to produce a consonance of adjective and substantive, or verb and noun. Several of Mason's most laboured odes are intro- duced in Lis " Elfrida" and " Caractacus," which are altogether poetical dramas, and may therefore make a part of your present course of reading. The poetry in them, especially in the latter, is of- ten worthy of admiration. As tragedies they have N 2 not 150 LETTER XIV. p.Gt been R\iccessi"ul ; and I imagine the attempted j'cvival of the Greek chorus will never be adopted by a real genius for the stage. Probably you will be better pleased with the elegies of !Mason than with his lyric productions. Referring to real life and manners, their sentiments are more natural ; and their descriptions have less of the glare of gaudy ornament. In the second elegy there is a very elegant sketch of a pleasure- ground in the modern improved taste, which may be regarded as a prelude to his later didactic poem " The English Garden." His " Elegy on the Death of a Lady" (the admired countess of Cov- entry) v.ill doubtless particulaiiy interest you. The description of female beauty with which it commences, is wrought to a polished brilliancy that Pope himself could not have surpassed ; VHicne'er wltli soft serenity she smll'd. Or cauglit the orient blush of quick surprUd How sweetly mutable, how brightly wild. The liquid lustre darted from her eyes ! lach look, each motion wak'd a new-born gracCj That o'er her form its transient glory cast : Some lovelier wonder soon usurp'd the place, ChasM by a charm still lovelier than the last. The lesson drawn from her untimely fate, though awful, is not repulsively gloomy ; and although there is some incorrectness in the rea- soning MASOK. 151 soiling concerning a future state, it is upon the whole impressive and Avell pointed. I shall here close my remarks on a writer, the propriety of whose introduction in this pl'.'.ce may be questioned ; though I can feel no hesitation in recommending to your notice, wherever you may meet with them, any of the productions of one whose moral merits render him always an instruc- tive companion, while his poetical excellencies can scarcely fail of making him an agreeable one. I remain very affectionately, Yours, Sec. [ 152 ] LETTER XV. I SHALL now request my amiable pupil to open the volume containing the works of Collixs, a poet whom I consider as having possessed more original genius than either of the two last men- tioned, though a short and unhappy life did not allow him to elaborate his strains to equal per- fection. Like Pope, he first tried his powers in the humble walk of pastoral, and produced his " Oriental Eclogues ;" which, notwithstanding the little esteem which the author himself afterwards expressed for them, may claim the merit of quitting the ordinary ground of rural poetry, and enriching it with new imagery. The eclogues are all characterised by purity and tenderness of sen- timent, by elegant and melodious verse. Two of them, " The Camel Driver," and " The Fugi- tives," likewise contain much appropriate descrip- tion, and present some striking pictures. That the writer had a strong conception of scenes fit- ted for the pencil, further appears from his " Epistle to Sir Thomas Hanmer ;" in which, after a lively sketch of the progress of dramatic poetry in mod- ern times, he suggests that mode of illustrating the beauties of our great dramatist by the kindred art of painting, wluch has since taken place, so much COLLIIvS. 155 much to the honour of the liberal undertaker ; and he gives spirited draughts of two designs for this purpose. The fame of Collins is however principally founded upon his " Odes Descriptive and Ailegor- ical," pieces which stand in the first rank of lyrical poetry. Of these, sortie are exquisitely tender and pathetic, others are animated and sublime, and all exhibit that predominance of feeling and fancy which forms the genuine poetic character. Some are shrowded in a kind of mystic obscurity that veils their meaning from the common reader ; but no one who is qualified to taste the higher beauties of poetry can fail to receive delight from the spirit of his allegorical figures, and the vivid- ness of his descriptive imagery. His versification is extremely varied, and several of its forms are peculiar to himself. The free irregular flow of some of his strains gives them the air of being the spontaneous product of present emotion, like the voluntaries of a master musician ; and no English poet seems to have possessed a more mu- sical ear. One of the most successful experiments of the employment of blank verse in lyric measure is presented in his " Ode to Evening ;" but I am not sure whether we are not rather cheated into forgetfulness of the verse by the force of the description, than brougiit deliberately to acquiesce in the want of its accustomed decoration. The 154 LETTER XV. The most striking of his Odes is that entitled " The Passions." It is said to be composed for music ; but I doubt whether its fitness for that purpose be not rather according to the poet's con- ception than the musician's, which are often found to be widely different. The concLuding stanza, indeed, seems to confess that the author expected little from the alliance of modern music with Poetry. The idea of representing the passions as performers upon different instruments is a happy one, and their manners and attitudes are in gene- ral highly characteristic. The figure of Hope is enchanting, and her strains are some of the sweet- est the English language affords. I am not judge enough of music to decide on the propriety of making both Melancholy and Cheerfulness select the horn as their instrument ; but the contrasted effect of their different tones is finely painted. I know not a more animated group of figures than those which the " hunter's call" sets in motion. The oak-crown'd Sisters, and their chaste-eyed Qneen, Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen. Peeping from f.rth their alleys green; Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear, And Sport leapt up and seiz'd his beecben spear. Some readers have been disappointed at missing Love among the impassioned fraternity. Possibly the author thought that it was no single passion, ^nd that it was nothing more than hope, despair, jealousy, COLLINS. 153 j^aloufey, Sec. pointed to a particular object. But in truth, perhaps from being ill used by the capri- cious deity, he seeiTis to have regarded him with ill "vvill, and to have been ambitious of emancipating poetry from its subserviency to his designs. Thus ■where, in his " Ode to Simplicity," he laments the degradation sustained by the Roman muse from thedossof that quality, his proof of this declension iii taken from the exclusive prevalence of the ama- tory strain : Ko more In hall or bovver, Tlie Passions cwn thy power. Love, only love, her forceless numbers mcarh If, hovrever, the Ode on the Passions is defec- tive in tliis particular, and inaccurate and unequal hi some other respects, yet it bears that precious stamp of genius wiiich cannot fail to secure its place among the noblest compositions of the class. The " Ode to Fear" abounds in strong and appropriate imagery. The affeclion of terror is justly accounted a source of the sublime ; and there is none which the imagination of poets has been more occupied in exciting. That Collins was keenly sensible of its influence appears from his unfinished " Ode on the Superstitions in the Scotch Highlands," where those of the gloomy and terrific kind are described with great force of 156 LETTER XV.' of painting. But he also partook largely in the tender affections, to which several of his finest productions are devoted. The " Odes to Pity and to Mercy" arc of this class. The picture in the latter, of Mercy personified as a female, with her bosom bare, pleading for the life of a youth fallen under the arm of a stronger warrior, is exqui- sitely touching. The " Dirge in Cymbeline," the " CMe on the Death Colonel Ross," and the *' Ode on the Brave fallen in Bdttle," are admirable pieces of this class, in whicii feeiing and fancy ai'e associated as they exist in the mind of a genuine poet — and such Collins undoubtedly was, though his facui'des were blasted by niisroitune before they arrived atthtir full expansion. I shall employ the remainder of this letter ill some remarks upon one or two other lyric poets whose works may claim your attention. It is to be regretted when a man of real talents mistakes his powers, and hazards by unsuccessful attempts the loss of part of the reputation he had acquired by former exertions. This is generally admitted to be the case with respect to Akknside as a writer of odes. His compositions under this title arc so numerous, that we must suppose he felt pleasure and expected fame from the em- ployment ; yet there is scarcely one whicli ex- cites any thing like rapture in the reader. They are not devoid of poetry, either in the senti- ments SMOLLETT. \57 lYicnts or the diction ; but they are stifF and inan- iauitc, ^vithout the enthusiasm of the loftier ode, or the amenity of tlie lighter. He has tried a great variety of measures ; but some displease by their monotony, while others present changes of length and modulation Avhich have no apparent corres- pondence vnlh the sense, and add nothing to the melody. Several of them are upon amatory topics, but never was a colder worshipper at the shrine of Venus than Dr. Akenside. He is much more at home in his patriotic strains ; and if any thing strikes fire from his bosom, it is the idea of lib- erty. His Odes to the earl of Huntingdon, and the bishop of Vv'inchester, possess much dignity of sentiment with considerable vigour of expression. Much happier, in my opinion, in his lyrical per" formances, is a writer greatly inferior to Akenside in poetical renov^'n, and chiv^fly known in other walks of literature. Tins is Smollett, the novelist, historian, and political writer, wlia has left a few specimens of his powers as a poet, siiScient to in- spire regret that he did not cultivate them to a greater extent. His" Tears of Scotland," and " Ode to Leven Water," are pieces of great sentimental and descriptive beauty j but his " Ode to Inde- pendence" rises to the first rank of composidons of that class. It opens with great spirit, and much fancy is displayed in the parentage and edu- cation of the personified subject of the piece. The o travels J 58 LETTER xvl travels of Independence form a series of anifnat" ed historical sketches ; but it -would have been more correct to have included Albion in the track of his peregrinations, than to have made it his birth-place. The concluding stanza, in which the jjoet lays aside fiction, and draws a. sober picture of life and character, gives a fine moral termina- tion to the whole. If excellence is to be judged of by effect, I know few pieces that can be com- pared to this Ode for the force with which it ar- rests the reader's attention, and the glow of senti- ment which it Inspires. IMason's ode on the same subject appears tame aivl insipid in the parallel, I could readily direct you to more compodtiows of the lyric class, wliich are by no means rare iu English poetry ; but those already pointed out will suffice for examples of the various styles and manners adopted by the writers who have most excelled. If you should have become enamoured with what an humorous writer has called " cloud-capt ode," you may indulge your taste at small expense by turning over a set of old Magazines or Annual Registers, in witich you will not fail to find two elaborate compositions of the kind every year, by a person dignified with the poetic laurel. The small advantage this ofiicial bard has often derived from h.is prescribed subject, has put him upon ex- erting all t'.ic powers of Ids invention to bring in collaterally BlUTH-DAT ODES. 159" collaterally soraething worthy of the expectations of his illustrious auditors. And as the office, dur- ing the present reign, has been ia the possession of men of respectable talents, some very extraor- dinary efforts have been made to elevate these periodical strains above the mediocrity of former times. I do not, however, seriously recommend to you a course of defunct birth- day odes ; it would be too severe a trial of your perscveriuice.^ Sufficient for the year are the odes of tl>e ye:ir.. Adieu ! 160 LETTER XVI. TiiK Aviitcrs to Avhom you have been lately direct- ed must have made you familiar ^vith that figure to which poetry is so much indchied...f2erson?yica- lion. It is this which by embodying abstract ideas, and giving them suitable attributes and action, has peopled the regions of fancy with a swarm of new beings, ready to be em.ployed in any mode that the invention may suggest. The lyric poets have been satisfied with a slight and transient view of these personages. They usually begin with an in- vocation, follow it with a genealogy and portrait, and having paraded their nymph or goddess thro' a few scenes of business, in which she is in con- tinual danger of reverting to a mere quaUty, finally dismiss licr. Others, however, have not chosen so readily to part with the creation of their fancy. They have framed a fable, in which the imaginary being may have full scope for its agency, and have bestowed upon it auxiliaries and adversaries, a local resi- dence, aiul all other circumstances serving to real- ise their fiction. This fable is an allegory. You have probably met with some of these in your prose SPEXSER. 151 prose rer.dings, and have been entertained and in- structed by them in the pages of Addie^cn and Johnson. As they ai-e, however, essentially poetical in their nature, they seem peculiarly suited to verse. There was a period in which the English poets, deriving their taste from the Italian school, were extremely addicted to this species of invention, and indeed carried it to a wearisome excess. Although the taste has in a great measure passed over, it is •worth wliile to become acquainted with some of the best productions of the class, since they hold no mean place among the offspring of the human intellect. I shall therefore now introduce you to an author v/ho, if antiquity had been the ground of precedence in our plan, ought to have received your earliest homage : but it was necessary to have acqviired a strong relish for poetry before he could safely be put into your hands ; for I v.iil not conceal from you, that it requires no small share of perseverance to become possessed of the beauties of the divine Spensek. His « Faery Queen" is by much the most con- siderable allegorical poem in our language ; and in many respects it deserves the reputation which through two centuries it has enjoyed. Its plan, indeed, is most singularly perplexed and incohe- rent ; and as the work is unfinished, it would be entirely unintelligible had not the author himself given a prefatory explanation of it. The term o 2 Jacry 162 LETTER XVt. facrij is used by him to denote sometliing existing only in the regions of fancy, and the Faery Queen is the abstract idea of Glory personified. The kni^-lits of faery-land are the twelve virtues, who are the champions or servants of the queen. The British prince Arthur, who is the subject of so many fabulous legends, becomes enamoured of the Faery Queen in a vision, and comes to seek her in faery -land. He is the image of perfect excel- lence, and is regarded as the general hero of the piece. Each book, however, has its particular hero, who is one of the virtues above mentioned, and who goes through a course of adventures mo- delled upon the tales of chivalry, and having for their object the relief of some distressed damsel, or other sufferer under wrong and oppression. He encounters giants, monsters, enchanters, and the like, who are the allegorised foes of the particular virtue of which he is the representative ; and prince Arthur, the general hero, occasionally ap- pears as his auxiliary when he is hard pressed. Thus far there is some consistency in the plan ; bvit the poet had the further view of paying his court to queen Elizabeth, the great topic of all the karned adulation of the age. She is therefore typified by the person of the Faery Queen, and several incidents of her history are related under the veil of allegory : the principal personages of her court are lil;c\vise cccasionally alluded to iu the SPEKSEK. 153 Che characters of the faery knights. Moreover, the supposed real history of Arthur and other British princes is interwoven with the tissue of fictitious adventure. It is impossible to conceive a more tangled skein of narrative, and the author could scarcely expect that any reader would take the pains to unravel it. In fact, no one at present re- gards this poem in any other light than as a gal- lery of allegorical pictures, no otherwise connected than by the relation several of them bear to one common hero. It would be no easy matter to form one consistent allegory of any single book, and to explain the emblematical meaning of every adventure ascribed to its particular knight. Yet in many instances the allegory i« sufficiently plain and well-supported ; and to run through the work as some readers do, merely amusing themselves with a tissue of marvellous incidents, like those of the Seven Champions of Christendom, without any search after the " truth severe in fairy fiction - drest," is a degradation of the author, and an in- justice to themselves- A hint which I have given you concerning per-- severance will perhaps make you cast an eye on the length of this work, and inquire whether you are expected to go through the whole. Although we possess but one half of the author's desig;i, six of his books being said to have perished at sea, I am not so unreasonable as to enjoin an uninter- rupted iG4 LETTER XVI. rupted perusal of the long, and, it must be con- fessed, rather tedious succession of combats, en- chantments, and romantic adventures v.hich fills tlie six remaining ones. All I wish is to give you a full taste of his peculiar excellencies, •\vhiclj you \TilI find to consist in -nonderful strength of painting, and an inexhaustible invention in the cre- ations of fancy. When you have got through the two legmds of Holiness and Temperance, you will perhaps find your curiosity so much awakea- ed as to induce you to proceed. In the first of these you cannot fail to be struck with the allegory of Despair, which in force of painting and correct- ness of application yields to no fiction of the kind, antient or modern. Indeed, its effect is very much owing to the near approach the fiction makes to reality. Substitute to the Genius of De&Jiair a gloomy fanatic employed in preaching the terrific doctrines of reprobation and eternal misery, and you convert tlie phantom into a human being. There will then remain nothing more of the super- natural than some of the accompaniments. He acconiplishes his purpose entirely in the natural %vay of persuasion, and his subtle arguments are admirably adapted to plunge the soul into that state of desperation which is preparatory to self- destruction. Their gradual operation upon the mind of the Red-cross Knight is managed with great skill } and words never drew a picture of more SPENSER. 164 more vivid expression than that of the final parox-v ysm of his passion : He to him raught a dagger sliarpe and keen. And gave it him in hand : his hand did quake. And tremble like a leafe of aspin greene, And troubled blood through his pale face was seen To come and goe with tidings from the heart. As it a running messenger had been. At last resolv'd to work his final smart, He lifted up bis hand, that backe againe did start. The cave of Mammon in the second book is ex- tremely rich in scenery and figures, and impresses the imagination with the Avonders of an Arabian tale. The danger impending over the Knight of Temperance were he to touch the least part of the riches displayed before Ids eyes, is a fine stroke of moral allegory, well exemplifying the nature of av- arice. The Vf hole fable of the Bower of Biiss is highly poetical, but its beauties are chiefly copied from Tasso and Ariosto. It could not be expected that so copious an in- vention as that of Spenser, at so early a period of English literature, should be uniformly regulated by propriety and good taste. We must not be surprised, therefore, to find many of his images disgusting and extravagant ; and his allegories frequently rendered incongruous by the mixture ef objects of reality w^th objects of similitude. Tiiua 166 Letter xvi. Thus Error is made to disgorge both books and refitiles : the former belong to the intellectual no- tion of error as an abstract quality ; the latter, to its type or representative, imaged under the form of a serpent-like monster. It Mill be an useful exercise to examine his fictions in this respect, and to detect their inconsistencies. In truth, the allegorist, ■who undertakes to create, as it were, a nature of things of his own, peopled with ideas in- stead of substances, engages in a task more ardu- ous than he is probably aware of, and is fortunBte if he avoids absurdities. The language of Spenser will appear to you un- couth, and at first scarcely intelligible. In reality, it was that of no one period, but was framed by the* author with a large admixture of obstifcte words and phrases, in order to give it the venerable air of antiquity. Other poets of different countries have practised the same artifice, which, I confess, appears to me unworthy of true genius. There are, mdeed, in most languages, expressions of peculiar energy and significance, which have been preserved for poetic use after they have ceased to make a part of common speech. But this privilege is only due to their intrinsic value ; and when it is extended to such terms as have been replaced by more apt ones, the only eflect is rudeness and tncongruity. Spenser, however, had another reason for the lati- tude he has assumed i*; lis vocabulary. The measure »^lCas^lre he has employed nearly resembles tire ottava rima or eight-lined stanza of the Italians, ■with a terminating alexandrine. This obliged him to provide four, and three, similar rhymes for each ; which, in the English language, is a bur- thensome task, and it is extraordinary that any one should find patience enough to accomplish it in a performance of the length of the Faery Queen. He could surmount the difficulty only by taking every advantage that poetical license would -allow ; and he has therefore made no scruple of forcing into the service of rhyi«e every wcrd of any age or parentage which, however imperfectly, would accommodate itself to the sense. If aii en- emy to rhyme wished to argue against it from -the improprieties of diction to which it gives rise, he might find proofs of the fact in every page of this poem ; and certainly there can be no gratifi- cation derived from such a complicated system of •rhyme wljich it is worth while to purchase at such •a price. The staniza of Spenser, however, pos- sesses a fulness of inclody which is extremely -pleasing to the ear. On this account, notwith- standing the difficulty of execution, it has been copied by several poets, who have managed it with extraordinary address. They have generally, at the same time, adapted many of the obsolete ■words of the author ; a practice which succeeds •uell in parody or burlesque, but appears to me 'ill-suited to grave and dignified topics. Some of tlies? iGS LETTER XVI. these imitations, however, are poems of consiclcra* t>le merit. I shall point out one or tv.-o to your notice. Perhaps the most pleasing of all allegorical poems in Spenser's munncr is Thomsox's " Castle of Indolence." It is, indeed, one of the capital performances of this writer, and would alone have entitled him to poetical eminence. TI;e descrip- tion Aviih which it opens presents a most delight- ful rural scene, and prepares the mind for a fa- vorable hearing of the subsequent address of the wizard or enchanter Indolence. This potent being is represented as acting, like Spenser's Despair, by the force of persuasion ; and a more eloquent ■harangue is nowhere to be met with than that which the poet puts into his mouth. I know not, "indeed, whether it is not almost too persuasive for the moral effect of the piece, especially wlicn en- forced by tiie delicious picture of the life led in this mansion of pleasure. No wonder that the poet i.imself was too well disposed to become a subject of the Power whose allurements he so feelingly describes ; and we may believe that he spoke from his heart when he exclaimed Tscap'd the castle of the Sire of sin, Ah ! where shall I to sweet a dwelling find? Yet tlie bard of Industry is a truly animated -orator ; and the reader is judicously left under the impression ♦rHOMS0N\ 169 impression of his strains, which may finally in- cline the balance to the right side. The biith and education of the Kniejht of Arts and Industry, with his progress through diftepent countries in the glorious IcJjour of ci\ilizing man- kind, is a fine piece of allegorical personification. His fi.nal settlement in Britt.in is a patriotic idea, which has foundation enough in truth to obtain ready admission with an English reader, whose bosom cannot fail to glow with the noble eulogy pronounced on his country : He lik'd the soil, he lik'd the clement skies. He lik'd the verdant hills and flowery plains. Be this my great, my chosen isle, he cries; Tliis, while my labours Liberty sustains. This queen of ocean all assault disdains. Sec. Some of the subordinate personifications are touched Avith great spirit ; such as those of tl.e diseases to which the votaries of indolence become a prey. It is to be observed, however, that they are made passive rather than active beings, distin- guished merely by the symptoms of those mala- dies they are supposed to inflict. This is a kind of incongruity from which allegory is rarely free. It is so obvious a mode of characterising one of these fancy-formed persons, to imbue him strongly with the quality meant to be represented, that poets have seldom adopted any other. Thus, An- p gcr iv'd LETTER XVI. ger is painted as a mcin in a fit of rage ; Fear, 6% one flying from a terrific object ; and the like. This method succeeds very well when they are only figures represented in a show or pageant ; but when they are mr.de actors in a fable, a diffi* culty often arises as to the manner of their agency. For if the qriality be of a passive or quiescent na- ture, its employment in any violent action, such as that of encountering a fioe, or destroying a vic- tim, appears an incongruity. Diseases figured as Salients are very unfit for ag-ents ; for what is the action of Lethargy " witli deadly sleep opprest,'* or " sv.oln and unwieldy'* Hydropsy ? Thomson has strangL'ly confounded the two condiuons of acting and suffering. In the compass of four lines he has the Tertian " shaking bis chilly Mings ;" the " sleepless" Gout " counting the mori.iiig clocks ;" and Apoplexy " knocking down Intem- perance." I shall not pursue this vein of criticism any further, but leave you to examine particular instances according to the rules resiiliing from the preceding observations. We have several other allegorical pieces written in Spenser's style and manner, and deserving the praise of ingenuity ; but I do not wish to detain you longer with a species of fiction wbich, when managed with the greatest skill, is apt to prove tiresonic. In fact, however we may admire the dexterity with which abstract qualities are convert- ed SCHOOL-MISTRESS. ITl ed into persons, and engaged in adventures suitable to their nature, the want of reality must ever ren- der such a fable little interesting, and tlie reader's mind will be perpetually diatractcd between atten- tion to the obvious story and to the concealed meaning. A well-contrived allegory is a contin- ued riddle or enigma ; and there are few who arc not soon fatigued with the exertion necessary for a full comprehension of such a piece of artifice. I snail therefore di.5miss the imitators of Spenser with the notice of one who has employed his man- ner for a difterent purpose, that of giving a sort of burlesque dignity to a subject drawn from humble life. The " School-mistress" of Shenstone is ac- counted the happiest effort of that writer, who is distinguished rather for elegance of sentiment than for high poetic powers. He has here, however, presented us with a work of great excellence ; for a performance which was never read without plea- sure and interest, and was never forgotten by any reader, well deserves that title. It somewhat re- sembles Gay's pastorals in exactness of delineation, and the mixture of the comic with the tender ; but Shenstone is more seriously pathetic than that writer. Nothing can be more natural than the portrait of the good dame with all the little accom- paniments of her dv.'eliing and garden. The inci- ilent of the poor little boy under correction is at the 172 LETTER XVI. the same tiine humorous and toucliing ; and hard must be the heart which is not moved to sympa- thy when Kis little sister doth his peril see. The children sporting on the green, and the tempting dainties " galling full sore th' unmoney'd v.ight," ar« circumstances of much simple beauty. Trivial as is the topic of the piece, I know few poems v/hich display more good sense or a more benevolent heart. It is one of those v*hich leave impressions not only pleasing but meliorating. From the time I first read it, the view of children at play has excited in me sensations of tender plea- sure that I can scarcely describe j and I seldom fiiil mentally to repeat Hcav'n shield their short-lived pastimet ! I implore. Farewell t 175 LETTER XVII. We have lately, my dear Mary, wandered so far into the regions of fancy, that there is nothing of the artificial and recondite character in poetry which may not now take its turn. I shall there- fore make you acquainted with a writer once not surpassed in fame by any English poet, though now almost consigned to neglect,. ..the witty and ingenious Cowley. He has undergone this fate not through want of genius, for he was at the head of his class, but through the radical defects of that kind of writing which he adopted in com- pliance with the bad taste of the age. Almost ev- ery writer, both in prose and verse, who then aimed at reputation, sought to distinguish himself by the novelty and remoteness of his conceptions, by the faculty of combining the most dissimilar ideas, and finding out hidden resemblances in things the most unlike. Their object was to daz- zle and surprise ; and, in attaining this, they ne- cessarily missed the much superior ends of affect- ing and persuading. They struck out latent sparks of meaning from the corision of words, but such as just flashed and disappeared. This class of poets has been termed the metaphysical j p 2 and i/'4 LETTER XVir. and Dr. Johnson has subjoined to his life of Cowley a character of them, illustrated by exam- ples from their works, which is a most entertain- ing and instructive piece of criticism, and well merits a perusal. You will think it sufuciently excuses you from reading any other of these au- tliors ; and I by no means wish you to take more of Cowley hinaself than so much as may agreeably acquaint you with his style and manner. Such are the number and variety of his pieces, that I believe I must take upon myself the office of point- ing out to you individually those which in my opin- ion are best worth your notice. Of his " Miscellanies," the ode entitled "Of "Wit" is remarkable as an exercise of the quality it describes. You will probably derive no accurate idea of it from his description ; but it is singular that he should enumerate among the defects of those Avho aim at ^^ it, some of the characteristics tjf his own school. Thus, censuring the profu- sion with which glittering thoughts are sometimes heaped together, he says, Yet 'tis not to adorn and gild each part ; That shows more cost than art. Jewels at nose and Ups but ill appear : Kat^cr than all things wit, let none be there. He furtlier observes, that it is not wit upon all things to obtrude AnU force same cdd ^uiullludc. COWLEY. 175" The poem " On the Death of Mr. William Her- vey" has more of the heart in it than is usual with Cowley. In that respect it may be advantageously compared with Milton's Lycidas, which, like this, is the lamentation of one academic yovith for an- other. The following stanza is particularly nat- ural and touching : He was my friend, the truest friend on earth ; A strong and mighty influence join'd our birth i Nor did we envy the most sounding name By friendship giv'n of old to fame. None but his brethren he and sisters knew Wliom the kind youth preferr'd to me ; And ev'en in that we did agree. For much above myself 1 lov'd them too. The ballad called " A Chronicle" is certainly the sprightliest pleasantest thing of the class in our language. The idea of comparing a succes- sion of mistresses to a line of sovereigns is sup- ported with Vv'onderful fancy and vivacity • and the concluding enumeration of the arts and ii .ruments of female sway is very elegantly sportive. The talent of trifling with grace is commonly thought no part of English genius ; but our liveliest neigh- bours may be challenged to produce a happier trific than this chronicle. Cowley has displayed similar ease and vivacity of style in his " Anacre- ontiques," which are free translations or paraphra- ses of the Greek bard ; and in his " Acme and Septimius?'^ It 6 LETTER XVI J. Septimius," from the Latin poet Catullus. In all these pieces the verse is generally smooth and the expression natural. The " Complaint," besides its poetical merit, is interesting from its reference to the writer's own life and character. He gives himself the title of " the melancholy Cowley," and, like many others of the fraternity, attributes all his ill success in the world to his devotion to the Muse. He recounts his disappointments not without a degree of dig- nity ; but it is unpleasant to find a man of genius and learning participating so much with the vul- gar in his feelings respecting fortune. Dyer has shown a more elevated spirit where, having just touched upon the theme of neglected merit, he checks himself with " Enough 1 the plaint dis- dain." The " Hymn to Light" is a piece in his best peculiar manner. It abounds with imagery as splendid and changeable as the matter which is its subject, and resembles that galaxy to which he has dispruisingly compared superabundant wit. The verse is extremely melodious, and the dic- tion often exquisitely poetical. The thoughts are sometimes fine, sometimes fanciful ; but upon the whole it is a work of which Cowley alone was capable. The set of poems connected by the title of ^ The Mistress," though termed " love verses," have COWLEY. Iff have as little real love in them as if they were written on a system of logic. They are, in fact, exercises of wit upon certain given topics, which might have been composed by an academic or monk in a cloister, who had never known the fair sex but from books. They are not proper to be presented to a young lady in the mass, yet one who could pick skilfully might find some harm- less amusement. I shall, however, only desire you to read the. two pieces " For Hope," and " Against Hope," as being extraordinary specimens of that inventive ingenuity which can turn a thought ev- ery possible way, and illustrate it by every ima- inable comparison. There is a pretty epigram- matic stanza in the piece entitled " The Waiting Maid," which you may perhaps recollect as quoted in the Spectator : Th' adorning thee with so much art Is but a barbarous skill ; 'Tls like the poisoning; of a dart Tco apt before to kill. Probably the greatest effort of Cowley in his own estimation was his " Pindaric Odes," a species of composition for which, accordi.ig to his idea of it, he might seem well fitted, from the unrestrained variaty of his conceptions. He made his first essays in a free version of some of Pindar's odes, liVhich I will not desire you to peruse ; for what amusement 17* LETTER XVIt. amusement are you likely to find in the obscure- tales of antient mythology, and the adulation of forgotten iiorse-racers ? His own Pindarics are more worthy objects of curiosity, though it is al- lowed that he mistook his genius in aiming at the sublime which in him soon loses itself in extrav- agance, or sinks into familiar trifling. His thoughts and measures are equally unbridled, and run Mildly without purpose or object. There arc however, some fine strains of both which will re- pay the search ; and one advantage to be derived from all Cowley's productions is, that they can- not be hurried over in a negligent perusal, but require attention to discover and taste their beau- ties. But tliat you may not waste this atten- tion vmprofitably, I will mention as the odes most likely to entertain ycu, " The Resurrection," " The Muse," and " Life and Fame." Cowley*s genius was still less fitted for epic potry than pindaiic. His unfiriished attempt in this way entitled " Davideis" may therefore be safely neglected, for its few splendid passages do not compensate the tediousness and bad taste of the wl;ole. I would wisli you, however, to turn to the third book, 1. 785, where you will find a very poetical and melodious lyric ode, supposed to be addressed by Duvid to Miclial. It is extraordinary that this poet, who, from this and others of his productions, appears to have had a very nice per- ception • OAVIET. 1'S'I "ception of metrical melody, should have been habitually so negligent in his ver&itication, which in general is full of Llse proscciy, and is bound by no rules. The poets of tiie metaphybical school Were particularly subject to this fault, Avhich -was probably owing to their fullness of thought, that Was continually struggling for utterance, and al- lowed no time or place for correct modulation. Donne, the father of tl is school, was so careitss in this resptct, that his pieces can scarcely be termed verse ; and his example seeujS to have perverted the rest. Some of Cowley's m.ost pleasing poetical efiu- sions are inserted in his prose essays, which are very agrecibly written, and may be recommend- ed to your perusal. They are printed along with his poems. IMany of them (both the prose and the verse intermixed) turn upon that taste for rural retirement which was a ruling passion in bim, or, at least, appeared so to himself. The im.'^ges of such a life are so generally delightful, tl'at nature seems to have pronounced it the condition best suited to human beings ; yet there are too many examples of disappointm.ent in the happiness it •was expected to afford ; and Cowley himself, when he was enabled to put his wishes into execution, found the most essential part wanting, a temper for enjoyment. A truly amiable character, 1 ow'' ■ever, shines through his vvrilings, and their serious strains leO LETTER XVII. Strains are all calculated to promote sentiments of piety and philanthropy. rrom the grave and the sportive employment of Avit, we nie party animosity of those who perhaps valued it on no other account. At this dis- tance of time it is read mer;;ly as a literary per- formance ; and its merits are fairly estimated without scrutinizing the justice of its satire, or the motives of its author. The fable of this burlesque heroic is copied from Don Quixote. It consists of the adventures of a licddous knight-errant and his squire, who are the representatives of the two most prevalent sects JtTLER. 181 sects among the pavlianientaiians,...the presbyte- riaii and independent. The kniyht is described as a man of multifarious but whimsical and pedantic erudition ; the squire, as a prating and dogmatical fanatic ; and both, as deeply tinctured "with hypoc- risy and knavery. The piece has less action than conversation. The author's talent does not seem to have lain in the invention of incident, but he is inexhaustible in matter of argument and all that relates to opinions. So much learning was per- haps never since the days of Rabelais applied to a comic purpose. He likewise possessed the faculty of bringing together the most dissimilar ideas, and linking them by odd and fanciful connexions, ...the characteristic of ludicrous wit. He had, withal, a fund of good sense and observation of mankind, which gave him a clear perception of the ridiculous in manners and character. Besides the leading topics of his satire, he has incidentally touched upon several other points in wliich men are delu- ded by false science or grave imposition ; so that he is a writer not only to be laughed with, but from whom real instruction is to be derived ; and he has furnished a variety of sentences which, en- forced by the humorous langu*.ge in which they are expressed, have passed into proverbial maxims. No one has contributed more than he to throw ridicule upon the imposture of judicial astrology, which was a folly once extremely prevalent, and by- no means worn out at the period of his writing. ^ Yon 185 LETTER XVII. You will readily conceive that a work Avhicli corresponds to the preceding description is not Calculated for hasty and uninformed readers ; and indeed the learned and historical allusions in Hudi* bras are so numerous, that they have afforded ample matter for the annotations of scholars. It ■will be necessary for you to procure some assist- ance of tliis kind ; nor will I promise, after all, that you will enter enough into the spirit of the perforr-iuncG to derive much pleasure from it. There are defects which will not fail to strike yon* It drags towards the conclusion ; yet it is an unfin- ished work, nor does it clearly appear what the author intended to make of it. The personages of the story are so contemptible, that no one cares w hat is to become of them. It must also be con- fessed, that the diction and imagery are not free from coarseness and vulgarity. Butler has been famous for his double rhymes, which often, from their oddity, heighten the ludicrousness of the matter ; yet they are frequently haltmg and im- perfect, and the style and versification in general are careless and slovenly. In these respects he is much inferior to Swift, who, with more ease and true familiarity, has also, in his best pieces, an air of good company which Butler wants. I shall direct your altcnlion to one niorc poet of the witty class, who deserves a distinguished place among original writers, though making a smuH GREEK. 183 small figure in the collection from the bulk of his productions. This is Green, a modern author, principally known by his admirable poem on " The Spleen." His purpose in this work was to suggeiit the most effectual preservatives against a foe to human happiness, which was a great object of dread half a century ago uivder the name he !i?.3 adopted, and is not less formidable at present under those of low sjiirits and lucak nerves. Like a skilful physician, he enumerates the causes of this mental disease, and the most potent antidotes to their influence ; and he offers a remedy for a fit of the spleen in his poem itself, made up of a most agreeable compound of shrewd observation, lively description, and rational philosopliy, seasoned with wit and fancy. Butler himself has not in the same compass more striking assemblages of remote ideas. Green is particularly happy in allusion, or the application of knoAvn facts, or passages from authors, in a new sense. Thus, recommendingj exercise as a cure for the spleen, he says, Fling but i stone, the Giant dies. News he calls " the manna of a day ;" an4 speaking of the power of beauty over old-age, Tvhich " blood long congealed liquefies ;" he adds, alluding to the pretended miracle of St. Jan-uarjus's head, True miracle, snd fairly done By heads wliicb are aJor'd wken on. IS4 LETTER XVri. His metaphors are often exceedingly apt and striking. He gives Spleen a magic -lantern, with which she throws frightful figures over the scene »f life. The precise religionists, he says, .... samples of heart-chested grace Expose ia show-glass of the face. Poems are " the hop-grounds of the brain ;" 6nd scruple is the " spasm of the m.ind." These images sometimes shoot into short allegories, very ingeniously supported ; of which the comparison of law to a forest, and the voyage of life with which the piece concludes, are examples. The latter is a common idea ; but I am acquainted with no in- stance in which it is wrought up with so many ■well-adapted particulars. The philosophy of Green is not of the exalted kind which has been adopted by some of the moral poets whose works have come before you, but \vhich perhaps has rather adorned their verse than directed their conduct. His is a refined decent epicurism, not however devoid of generous prin- ciples. He seems to have despaired of rendering the world wiser or better, but to have aimed at rendering himself so. He has sketched the plan of life he desired to lead, in a nvish, that, of all the poetical castle-building I ever met with, appears to mc the most reasonable. I doubt not, however, that CREES. 1S5 that in practice, the want of steady employment would be found to deduct greatly from the imagi- nary felicity ; and that all the other sources of pleasure Avhich he so agreeably describes would prove inadequate to repel the intrusions of spleen. As his system is exclusively calculated for ovu' sex, I find nothing in it of the preceptive kind to recommend to you, except that you should en- deavour, w^ith him, to become one of those votaries of Contentment, By happy akh«my of mind Who turn to pleasure all they find. Green's other pieces are all worth your perusal. *' The Sparrow and Diamond" is a lively picture of the struggle between avarice and tenderness in a female breast. The " Seeker," and the poem " On Barclay's Apology," may half tempt you to turn quaker, for which sect the author had a mani- fest partiality. The " Grotto" must be at least twice read before it is fully comprehended ; but it will repay that labour. It is as witty and poetical as his " Spleen," though strangely desultory. Green rxmks among the minor poets ; but I confess I would sacrifice many writers of whole tomes in the coUectioo rather than part with him, q 2 To 186 LETTER XVII. To the iriuiiivjrate in this letter I am not tempt- ed to make any addition ; I therefore close the subject with subscribing myself Your truly affectionate, See. r IS!' 3 LETTER XVIII. Having thus, my dear pupil, in a method per- haps scarcely perceptible to you, but never absent from my own mind, led you through all the prin- cipal departments of poetical composition, in such Mianner as to afford you a comparative view of the productions of the most eminent English writers in each, I shall now, without further re- gard to method, point out to you some of those among the remainder who appear to me best worthy of your attention, and give you my ideas of their peculiar excellencies. Such an exercise of the judgment may spare you much fruitless and tiresome reading ; for so little selection has been employed on the volumes that fill your shelves, that a considerable portion of them, though dignified with a place among those enti- tled " the English Poets," by way of distinction, are characterised only by dull mediocrity, or taste- less rant. I do not assert that they contain noth- ing worthy of perusal ; but a great passion for poetry and abundance of leisure are requisite to compensate the labour of the search. It would be unjust to confound with such unsuc- cessful yotaries of the Muses, Tickell, the friend «f 188 tETTEH XVIII. of Addison, and, in some degree, the rival of Pope. Few poets of that age equal him in ele- gance of diction and melody of versification ; and if he does not display powers of invention of the first class, his thoughts generally please by their justness and ingenuity. None of his pieces are void of some appropriate merit. The poem *' On the Prospect of Peace" is one of the best of the politic£d class : its adulatory strains are not trite and vulgar, but expand in an agreeable variety of imagery. The " Imitation of the Prophecy of Nereus," and the " Epistle to a Gentleman at Avignon," possess much merit as party poems j but the union of party and poetry will probably afford you little pleasure. " Kensington Garden" is a pretty fancy-piece ; not correct, iudeed, in its mythology, since it blends the fiction of the fairy system with that of the heathen deities,. ...but ele- gant and picturesque iia its descriptions. « Colin and Lucy" you have probably met with in song-collections, where it has a place as one of the most beautiful of modern ballads. The pa- thetic strain which he has there touched upon in a fictitious subject, he has pursued in reality oa occasion of the death of his great friend and pat- ron Addison. His elegiac poem on this event has perhaps no superior of its class in the language, for the justness of its sentiments, and the serious ilignity of its poetry. Tlie picture of the funeral in TICKELL. 18* in Westminster-abbey, the allusions to the moral and literary character of the deceased, and the strokes of feeling for personal loss, have all that stamp of truth, which interests beyond the most brilliant creations of the imagination. I have al- ready made a comparison between the exertions^ of Milton and of Cowley on a similar topic. Not- "withstanding their superiority of fame and genius, I do not hesitate to give the preference to this piece of Tickell, if it be the province of elegiac poetry to touch the heart> rather than to amuse the fancy. Tickell was probably incapable of reaching the loftiness of the highest kind of lyric poetry, yet his " Ode to the Earl of Sunderland," on his in- stallation at "Windsor, is a composition of great merit. It has, indeed, bo daring flights, no rapid transitions, no sublime obscurities : it proceeds in a clear and even tenor of elevation ; and the poet's flame, like that of the hero he celebrates, " burns calmly in his breast." There is, how- ever, much spirit in the description of the knights of former times, The flow'r of chivalry ! who drew With sinew'd arm the stubborn yew, Or with heav'd pole-axe clear'd the fielcj. Or who in justs and tourneys skiU'dt Before their ladies eyes renown'd, Tbrew horse and horsemitfi ta the ground. I90 LETTER XVm. A more ingenious comparison can scarcely be found, than that between the modern knights of the garter who have been admitted on account of civic and pacific merits, and the " gentler con- stellations" placed in the heavens by " letter'd Greece." The sentiments of this piece are wise and laudable ; and the regularity of the measure suits the style and subject. I am in doubt whether to recommend to your notice a poem once famous, the " Dispensary" of Dr. Garth. It ranks among the mock-heroic, a species of composition, in which an uncommon union of wit and poetry is requisite to ensure success. Its subject was of 3 too confined and temporary nature to be long interesting ; nor uideed, ■when recent, was it distinguished for humour. There is some good serious poetry in it, though. unskilfully introduced. On the whole, it has not much claim to escape the oblivion to which it seems hastening. About the same period there were two dramatic writers of great eminence, Congreve and Rowe, the first in comedy, the second in tragedy ; who, besides, obtained reputation in other kinds of poetry, and are received among the English po- ets. Yet they are now little read in that capaci- ty, and only a few of their compositions deserve attention. If Dr. Johnson's sentence be just, that CoNGREVi's miscellaneous pieces " show lit- tle tON'GREVE. 191 tie w'h and littl* virtue," I should be wrong to recommend them at all to your perusal ; and indeed the little that is good in them is scarecly worth the pains of selecting from the bad or indiffei'ent. I may, however, just mention his " Ode on Mrs. Arabella Hunt singing," which has something at least very like fine poetry, with a mixture of sometliing equally like nonsense. The descrip- tion of Silence personified, with its accompaniments, is carried much beyond the power of the most vigorous conception to follow. Try what image you can " body forth" from these lines : An antient sigh he sits ijpon, Whose memory of sound is long since gone. And purposely annilulated for his throne. A melancholy thought, condens'd to air, Stol'n from a lover in despair. Like a thin mantle, serves to wrap In fluid folds his vistbnary shape. We have had painters daring enotigh to pour- tray iNIiltor.'s Death, though it had " no shape distinguishable in member, joint, or limb ;" but he would be a bolder artist who should attempt a figure of Congi'evc's Silence. In his " Elegy on Cynthia weeping and not speaking" he indulges his fancy less, and more consults the natui-ai expi'cssion of feeling. That he was weli able to ally passion with poetry, he ha» 195 LETTER XVIII. has proved by his single tragedy of " The Mourning Bride," which presents some fine ex- .amples of this union. Rovi'E, however, stands at tlie head of our poetical tragedians ; and were the drama our sub- ject, I should venture some remarks upon trage' du conJdertd «■? a fioa;:, which miglit perhaps support a higher estimate of his merits than mo- dern taste seems to have estiiblished. Of his general poetry, his " Translation of Lucan's Phar- salia" is the most considerable work, and it main- tains a respectable rank among our metrical ver- sions of the classics. It has, liowever, that fault from which poetical translation is seldom free, exaggeration ; and this, as the original is inclin- ed to extravagance, has betrayed him into some whimsical inntances of bombast. He likewise runs into prolixity : but to transfuse tlie sense of one of the most nervously concise of Latin wri- ters into English couplets, is a tusk of so much difficulty, that it claims liberal allowance. Of his miscellaneous pieces, I can only recom- Tuend to you as excellent, three pastoral ballads, which, for tenderl.ess and true sin.plicity, api-ar to me almost unequalled in that kind of compo- sition. " Despaiiing beside a clear stream" is written in a measure which has since become po- pular Ijy being adopted by Shenstonc and others. Ill its subject, it Uiay be advantageously compared with tDWARD MOORE. 193 ■with Piior's " Alexis," which .it surpasses in natural expression. " The Contented ShephtrA" very pleasingly personates that unambilious cha- racter which is supposed to mra-k the true lover, to whom the afTcction of his mistress is more than all the ^vorId btaidcs. The piece written on the sickness of the lady addressed in the former, to whom he was afterwards uiiited, is exquisitely tender and pathetic. These humble productions j)lace Rowe higher in my estimation as a poet,' than his elaborate birth-day odes, and polilical eulo- gies ; yet the poem to lord Godolphin upon our military successes is no mean performance. The title of " Fables for the Ladies" will na- turally attract your attention to a work of En- v/ARD ]MoouE. This author was a man of parts and agreeable pleasantry, and is known as well by his periodical paper " The World," as by his poems, and plays of " The Foundling'' and " The Gamester." His " Fables" are written in an easy familiar style, and possess considerable merit, both moral and descriptive. Most of them, indeed, have the fault so common in this species of fiction, — that of neglecting the proper nature and manners of the animals introduced, and mak- ing them mere human creatures in a brutal form. Who can yield a momentary ass;;nt to such a supposition as that of a leopardess courted by a monkey, fox, and goat } or of a cwe-lamb mar- K ritd 'l"^* lETTER XVin. ried to a v/ojf ? The prefaces to the fables are •often sprightly and elegant moral lessons, which derive little additional force frora tlie subsecjuent fictions. Such is that against neglect of neat- ness, begiraiing, Vhy, CsUa, is yoiir spreading waijt ' So loose, so negligently lac'd .' ^hat against affectation ; I hate the face, however fair. That Carries an affected air : -and that which describes The nymph who walks the public streetr,, And sets her cap at all she meets. It v.ill be an usc^ful task to commit these short pieces to memory, as mementos for the regula- tion of conduct in what the French call Ics pelitc.-i 7noralc!?., and wl.ich are by no means of trilling importance to your sex. , The three concluding pieces, written by Henuy Brookk, author of " The Fool of Quality," rise mucii beyond the rest in point of poetry. They have not, iiideed, maeh of the character of fable, for which species of composition they are too long, and superabundant in senliment in propor- tion to the narrative ; but they arc delightful as mo- ral LORD LYTTELTON. 19^5- ral tales. The description of conjugal auection r;i the " Sparrow and Dove" is charming- ; and the fall of innocence and its recovery in the '< Fc- male Seducers" is both highly poetical and sweet- ly patlictic. The address of Virtue to the " lit- tle trembler" is particularly striking, and partulves of the sublime. The poems of Lord Ltttelton may be re- commended to you, as certain to afford some pleasure, and free from every thing that can of- fend. Elegance of language, delicacy and pro- priety of sentiment, and an even tenor of correct versification, are their characteristics. These are qualities, indeed, to be found in many of the poets of a refined age, and of themselves are in- sufficient to raise a writer, to distinction ; but Lyt- telton has some peculiar claims to nciice, espec- ially from the fair sex. He appears to have ftlt the tender passion y.'ith equal ardonr and purity, and to have fulfilled every duty both cf a lover and a husband. In the former capacity his most ccn- sideral)le production is «' The Progress of Lovt" in four eclogues. Of this, Dr. Johnson thinks it sufficient to say that " it is a fm-'JtoTal ;" which title, in his estimation, implied affectation and insipidity. I do not think it the better for t! e mixture of pastoral fiction, wl.ich is supported only by the trite language and imagery of rural life ; but one who has felt love will probably give "the 156 LETT7.R XVIII. the autl or the crLclit of having entered Avith success into the various turns of that passion. His " Songs" and other short poems are agreeable displays of that tender affection Avhich at length rendered him happy in a well-sorted connubial union ; as his " Monody" is the expression of those sentiments of past felicity and present grief which succeeded the untimely dissolution of that tie. This piece, however, is rather an eloquent enumeration of topics of praise and regret, than the art-ess effusion of uncontrolled emotions : yet there are some strokes of natural and pa- thetic lamentation which cannot fail to excite sympathy. Lord Lyttelton has shewn his friendship for the fidr-sex by an epistle of " Advice," which, not- withstanding the ridicule bestowed upon it by lady Mary Vv'ortley Montague, may be read with pleasure and advantage. Though a very young adviser at that time, he displays no inconsiderable knowledge of charrxter and manners. I must, however, ent;n' a protest against the following maxim : One only care your gentle breasts should move, Th" important business of your life is love. Unless love be here used in the extended sense of all the chariii;;s of life, all that is endearing and SHEXSTONE. 197 and attaching in human society, I shoiild say- that he degrades the female character by his lim- itation. I have been in some doubt whether to desire you to take up again the volumes of SiiENsroNii. You win find in him nothing equal to his " SchooL- niistress ;" nothing, indeed, which has not some marks of feebleness and mediocrity : yet he has attained a degree of popularity which may be E.d- m^itted as a proof of merit of a certain kind, and as a reason against total neglect. Ycu will scarcely, I think, overcome the languor of his long elegies, notwithstanding their melodious flow and occa- sional beauties. A life spent in dissatisfaction with himself and his situation, in sickly gloom and unrelished leisure, was not likely to inspire vigorous strains ; and the elegiac tone assumes deep and fixed despondence in the effusions of his imagination. The last of these pieces, in which he deplores the consequences of a licentious amour, has been generally admired. It touches upon the true pathetic, though mingled with the fanciful. The " Pastoral Ballad" in four parts is probably the most popular of all his productions. Mariy persons, I believe, suppose both the measure and the manner to be of Shen stone's invention ; but I have pointed out a better specimen of both in Rowe. Simplicity of language and sentiment was B 2 the 19* LETTER XVIir. the writer's aim ; it is, however, no easy thing to attain the grace of this quality, without border- ing upon its next neighbour, inanity. Shenstone has not been able entirely to hit this point : yet he has several stroke's of natural and tender feel- ing, as well as passages of pleasing rural imagery, ■which he drew from original sources. His poem entitled " Rural Elegance" is worth reading on account of its descriptions of the modern art of landscape gardening, of which he v/as an early and distinguished practitioner. The following lines are a very picturesque sketch of the principal operations of that art : Whether we fringe the sloping hill. Or smooth below the verdant mead. Whether we break the falling rill, Or through meandering mazes lead. Or in the horrid bramble's room Bid careless groups of roses bloom. Or let some shcltcr'd lake serene Reflect fiow'rs, v.'oods, and spires, and brighten all the scene. The " Dying Kid," the " Ballad of Nancy of the Vale," and some of the songs, which are tender and delicate in their sentiment, have afforded pleasure to readers who are not too fastidious in their ideas of excellence. I believe they will do 50 to you ; nor do I wish to foster in you that sickly LORD LYTTELTON. 199 sickly nicety of taste, which refuses to be pleased •with what is really beautiful, because it is not pre- sented in the most perfect form. Adieu I 200 LETTER XIX. My task now, my dear Mary, draws to a conclu- sion ; for although, since the time of Shcnstone, several poets have appeared who have enjoyed their day of reputation, and have been consigned to posterity in the volumes of collections, yel few of them have survived even this short interval in the voice of popular fame. I have one, however, to mention who may be considered as fully estab- lished in his seat among the most eminent of the poetical fraternity, and Avhose works are as much consecrated by the stamp of public applause as if they had received the approbation of centuries*. This is Goldsmith, one of the minor poets, with regard to the bulk of his productions, but perhaps the immediate successor of Drydcn and Pope, if estimated by their excellence. His two principal pieces, " The Traveller" and « The Deserted Village," come under the head of descriptive poems ; but the description is so blend- ed with sentiment, and so pointed and consolidated by a moral design, that they claim a higher place than is usually allotted to that class of composi- tions. It is true, Goldsmith was more of a poet than G0I.DSM1TH. 201 tl-.an of a philosopher or politician ; and therefore it is rather for the entertainment than the in- struction that they affbrd, that these performances are to be valued ; yet there is much in them to warm the heart as well as to delight the imagina- tion. It is not derogatory to the merit of Goldsmith's poetry that it is calculated to please the general taste. The qualities by which it effects this pur- pose are, remarkable clearness and perspicuity of style ; a natural unaffected diction that rejects every artifice of speech which has been employed to force up language into poetry by remoteness from common use ; and a warmth, energy, and variety, which never suffer the attention to lan- guish. His imagery is all taken from human life and natural objects : and though frequently new to the generality of readers, is easily comprehend- ed. His sentiments, if not always accurately just, are such as obtain ready admission, and find some- thing correspondent in every breast. The nervous conciseness with which they are expressed im- prints them on the memory, while the melodious flow of his verse gratifies the ear, and aids the impression. The poem of " The Traveller" consists of a descriptive sketch of various European countries, with the manners and characters of the inhal)i- tanta 202 LETTER XBK. tants, drawn by the author on the spot, for the moral purpose of contrasting their advantages and disadvantages, and deducing the general maxim, that the former are balanced by the latter, and that the sum of happiness does not greatly difl'er in any. Whatever be thought of the truth of this proposition, it must be acknowledged that national pictures were never before drawn v/ith so much force and beauty ; and the reader is at a loss whether most to admire the representations of visible nature presented to his fancy, or the moral portraitures addressed to his understanding. The different figures are also happily placed for ti'ie effect of contrast ; the hardy Swiss after the effe- minate Italian, and the phlegmatic Hollander after the volatile Frenchman. As the writer generally adheres closely to his topic, he has introduced few adventitious ornaments ; but such as he has employed are in good taste : his similes in this and the corhpanion piece are eminently beautiful. The " Deserted Village" is the enlargement of ft topic just touched upon at the close of the pre- ceding poem ; the supposed depopulation of the country in consequence of the encroachments of luxurious opulence. The writer imagines a vil- lage, which from infancy he had known happy in all the humble charms and pleasures of rural life, delivered at length to the hand of desolation under the sway of a single unfeeling master, while its former OOLDSMITH. tOS former inhabitants are driven to exile in trans- atlantic emigration. It is in the contrast between these two states of prosperity and desertion that the descriptive part of the poem consists ; and the design affords much scope both for the picturesque and the pathetic. Views of rural life are indeed among the commonest products of poetry, and it %vas difficult to avoid the beaten track of imitation in treating such a subject. But Goldsmith wisely •His internal view of the village, "with its principal personages, the clergyman and schoolmaster, is admirably drawn. The portrait of the foimer may vie in dignity and interest with Dryden's Country Parson ; and though they are so similar in subject and effect. Goldsmith's exliibits no marks cf imitation, but is perfectly original. The schoolmaster is a comic painting, but extremely natural, and free from caricature. The same may be said of the alehouse, with its furniture and com- pany ; and good nature will excuse the indulgence ■with which the enjoyments of the poor are treated, even when verging to excess. It is, indeed, to the credit of Goldsmith's heart, that he always appears the poor man's friend ; and the erroneous notions which he lias adopted on some points, were probably suggested by the keen indignation he felt against those hardened sons of wealth and ease, who seem to grudge their inferiors any share of those pleasures in which they themselves revel without control. The picLures of the ruined and forsaken female, and of the group taking a last farewell of their beloved village, are beautiful touches of the pathetic. On the whole, this poem is one of those which take possession of the heart and imagination with irresistible sway, and can scarcely satiate by repeated perusal. The othei" pieces of Goldsmith are trifles, but such as denote the man of oritjinal genius. " The Haunch GOLDSMITH. 205 Haunch of Venison" and " Rctaliaticn" are hu- morous productions, in which the familiar style is very happily employed. The latter pleasantly exhibits the author's talent at drawing characters. The light satire in some of these sketches is sea- soned with good-humored praise, so as to make up a very palatable compound to the persons con- cerned ; with the exception of Garrick, whose foibles are drawn with too much force to be oblit- erated by commendation. Accordingly, it pro- voked a more severe though less witty retort from the great actor. The " Kermit" is a specimen of the ballad, divested of that rusticity which is its usual charac- ter, yet preserving an elegant and cultured sim- plicity. The story is not a good one ; but there are many pleasing passages in the piece, and the moral sentiments are expressed with great neat- ness. That it has none of the trivial phrases and insipid repetitions of the antient ballads, will be objected to it only by those whose taste is vitiated by antiquarian pedantry. Of the remaining compositions I shall notice only one, and that for the purpose of showing the power of versification alone in giving the grace of poetry to a simple sentiment, unadorned by any of those flowers of diction wliich some suppose es- sential to the poetical character. Plainer words s cannot 2D5 LETTER XIK. cannot be found than those which compose tht following " Stanzas on Woman." Wl'.en lovely Woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men bftray, What charm can sooth her melancholy. What art can wash her guilt away i The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye. To give repentance to her lover, /.nd wring his bosom, is— to die. I confess, however, they have to me a charm beyond that of almost any piece of the kind with wjiich I am acquainted. This effect is, doubtless^ partly owing to the pathos of the sentiment itself, «nd the skill with which it is wrought to a point. But surely the melodious flow of the Unes, joined with the recurrence of agreeable sounds in the tlouble rhymes, operates as a powerful auxiliary to the sense. Many of the best songs in our Ian* guage, and almost all those of the French, turn in like manner upon a single striking thought, ex- pressed with simple conciseness, in elegant versi- fication. An example of what may be done by strong sense, learning, and cultivated taste towards pro- ducing valuable poetry, without a truly poetical genius, is afforded by several pieces in verse of the JO UN sow. 207 the celebrated Dr. Samuel Johnson, -whose great came in literature has been acquired by his prose compositions. The walk in which a writer so qualified is most likely to succeed, is that of the morally didactic. Energy of language, vigour, and compass of thought, and correctness of versifica- tion, are the principal requisites for the moral poet ; and few have possessed them in a higher degree than the author in question. His imitations of two satires ef Juvenal, under the title of « London," and ' " The Vanity of Hu- man Wishes," are, perhj^ps, the most manly com- positions of the kind in our language. The Ro- man poet is distinguished by the earnest and point- ed severity of his invective, as well as by the force of his painting, and the loftiness of his philosophy j and the imitation does not fall short of the original in these respects, whilst it is free from its gross- ness and impurity. The " London" indeed, written in the earlier part of Johnson's literary career, while he was a warm oppositionist in politics, and liad scarcely acquired tliat confirmed relish for the inetropolis which afterwards characterised him, has a considerable mixture of coarse exaggeration. The other piece possesses more calm dignity ; and the examples drawn from n^odcrn history to parallel those from antient history in the ori;j_inal, fare, for the most part, well chosen. That of Charles of Sweden is written vvith peculiar anima- tion. 20S LETTER XrX. tion. The conclusion, which is sublime in the Latin, is as much more so in the English, as the tht;ology of the modern writer was superior to that cf the antient. Nobler linea thati the following "Were never composed : Yet vhen the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour fortli thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resign'd ; For love, which scarce collective man can fill. For patience sovereign o'er transmuted il4 ; For faith, that panting for a happier seat. Counts death kind nature't signal for retreat. Both these imitations have an excellence to an Esiglish reader not alv/ays found in compositions of this class. ..that of being complete in themselves, and not depending for their effect upon allusion to the oii^inals. The same vigour of tliought and style has made Jolmson the author of the finest prologue our lan- guage can boast, with the exception, perhaps, of Pope's to Cuto. It was written on the occasion of opening the Drury-lane theatre in 1747, and was meant to usher in that better choice of plays which took place under the management of his fiicnd Ganick. The sketch of the vicissitudes of tiie English drama is druwu with justness and spiritii JOHNSON. 209 spirit, and the concluding appeal to the go«d-sense and taste of the audience is truly dignified. An- other prologue, to the benefit-play given to Tvlil- ton's grand-daughter, is likewise much superior to the ordinary strain of these compositions. The Odes of Johnson have, I think, the same air of study, the same frigid elegance, \vhich he has derided in those of ^kenside. The sviblimer flights of the lyric muse he has judiciously not at- tempted, conscious of his want of enthusiasm ; his •want of gaiety equally unfitted him for her spright- ly strains. The pieces denominated from the lour seasons of the year have little characteristic paint- ing : he was, ii^deed, precluded by corporeal de- fects from any lively perception of the imagery of rural nature. The translation of Anacreon's " Dove" is, however, very happily executed. Cov,*- ley would have done it with scarcely more ease, and with less elegance. There is one piece, written, too, at an advanced age, which may be produced as an example of perfection in its kind. ..I allude to the stanzas on the death of Levett. I know not the poem of equal length in which it would be so difficult to change a single line, or even word, for the better. The subject supplied matter neither for sublimity nor pathos : the mature decease of a man in ob- scure life, and with no other quality than humble utility, Avas to be recorded ; and who but Johnson s 2 could 21Q LETTER XIX. eoulcl have filled such a meagre outline with such adniirahle finishing ? Every line is a trait of ciiaracter or sentiment. What a picture of life is given in the following stanza ! In misery's darkest caverns known, Kis useful care was ever nigh, Where Iiopcless anguisli pour'd his groafij And lonely want retirM to die. I confess, that much as I admire the flights of a poetical imagination, it is these sober serious strains to which at present I recur with most delight. Your taste may reasonably be different ; yet I trust in the solidity of your understanding to lead you to set a just value upon that verse, which, while it gratifies the ear, also toQches and melior- ates the her»rt. Farewell I 211 LETTER XX. I AM tempted, my dear Mary, for the subject of a concluding letter, to desert the collection in "Which we have been so long immersed, and di- rect your notice to two very modern poets, whose reputation, now sealed by death, justly re- commends them to every lover of the Muses : these are Beattie. and Cowper. The " Minstrel" of the former, his principal performance, is a fancy-piece, the theme of which is the supposed birth and education of a poet. The name of Minstrel is not very happily ap- plied ; since the character described widely differs from that musical songster of a rude age ; nor can we find any " Gothic days" which suit the circumstances of the tale. In fact, the author's plan is crude and incongruous ; and the chief value of his performance consists in descriptions and sentiments addressed to the feeliags of all who have a perception of natural and moral beauty, apart from any particular appropriation. There is, however, something very pleasing in the portrait of his Edwin, who was " no vulgar boy," but is represented as marked from his cra- dle with those dispositions and propensities which were 212 LETTEK XX. were to be the foundation of his future destiny. I believe it would be difficult in real biography to trace any such early indications of a genius exclusively fitted for poetry ; nor do I imagine that an exquisite sensibility to the sublime and beautiful of nature is ever to be found in minds which have not been opened by a degree of cul- ture. Yet there is a seeming probability in the contrary supposition, which may very well serve the purpose of fiction, and it leads to some beautiful description of natural scenery. The measure chosen by Beattie is the stanza of Spenser, which he manages with great address and seeming ease. Its Gothic origin and pomp of sound are tlie reasons he gives for adopting it. 1 have little doubt, however, that its employment by Thomson in his Castle of Indolence princi- pally suggested it to him, for many of his strains closely resemble those of that work. Among his landscape-paintings, one of the most novel is that of a misty day viewed from an eminence : And oft the craggy cliff he- lov'd to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublinnf, t.ike shipwreck'd mariner on desCft coast. And view th' enormous waite of vapour, tost BEATTIE. 215 In billows length'niHg to th' horizon round, N*ovv scoopM in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd ! And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound. Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound ! His description of " the melodies of morn" is^ a delineation of sounds which may be compared with that ah'eady quoted from Goldsmitla. The sub- sequent fairy vision, though painted with much beauty, is too splendid and artificial for the fancy of an untutored youth, who, without being conver- sant in books, could form no conceptions of that kind. It may also be remarked, that Edwin is too early made a philosophic reasoner : but Beattie was impatient for occasions to express his detestation of " Pyrrho's maze and Epicurus' sty," so that he has anticipated in his first book what properly be- longs to the second. Of the first, it is the busi- ness to feed young Edwin's fancy, and lay in stores for poetical imagery ; he is therefore rightly represented as delighting not only in all the grand and striking scenes of nature, but in every species of fiction which awakens the curiosity and interests the feelings. He has also that love for solitude and disposition to melancholy which are usually supposed the attendants of genius. To these are added a taste for music : The wild harp rang to his adventurous hand, And languibh'd to his breath the. plaintive Sute. Of 214 lETTER XX. Of this connexion between music properly so called, and the music of verse, I have already- more than once expressed ray doubts ; yet it is an idea in which the mind readily acquiesces. At the opening of the second book an education of the young poet commences, the reverse of the former ; for fancy is now to be corrected and con- trolled by truth. " Perish the lay that deadens young desire" is no more the maxim of the instructor, and the youth is to be taught that hopes are made to be disappointed, and that what seems good in the world is not really so. The manner in which this change is brought about, it must be confessed, does no credit to the author's invention. Edwin strays to a lonely valley (beautifully described), in which resides that convenient personage, a her- mit. Him he over-hears telling himself liis ©wn story in a long soliloquy, in which the vanity of worldly pursuits, and the vices that haunt the pub- lic scenes of life, are displayed. Edwin is shocked at the recital, and an uneasiness takes possession of his breast which can only be dispelled by a conference with the sage. At a second visit he ventures to introduce himself, and the hermit is so pleased with his ingenuous temper, that he adopts him as a pupil. The business is now in a right train ; for although the scene is laid in Go- thic times, it is easy to invest the solitary with all the wisdom and all the knowledge that books and feEATTIE. 215 ?ind contemplation can supply. The course of instru^ion through which the pupil is led does honour to the \yriter, and proves that his mind M'as well stored and cultivated. First, " the muse of history unrolls her page," and many excellent observations are deduced from her lessons. Phi^ losophy next succeeds, accompanied by Science J And Reason now through Kumber, Time, and Space* Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye, And learns, from facts compared, the laws to trace. Whose long progression leads to Deity. Can mortal strength presume to soar so high • Can mortal sight, so oft bedimm'd with tears, Such glory bear !— for lo, the shadows fly From nature's face ; confusion disappears. And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears. These fine lines are succeeded by strains equally elevated, in which the progress of the youthful mind to knowledge, virtue, and refinement, is beautifully developed. But when the accumulated stores are to be applied to the purpose of forming the finished poet, the work abruptly concludes with the patlietic lamentation of a lost fiiend ; and we are led to suppose that the sudden stroke overwhelmed the poet's powers, and extinguished his flame. Probably, however, he had proceeded as far as he saw the way clear before him, and felt that pursuing the theme further would involve him 216 LETTER XX. him in difficulties which he was afrtiid of enco\m' tering. From the freedorti with which I have commen- ted upon the plan of this pcem, you Avill perhrps ■wonder that I have selected it as an object of particular recommendation ; but there is so much ■genuine poetry and so much excellent moral in the detail, that I am convinced you will find your attention well employed in the perusal. The great popularity which the name of Cowfer. has obtiiined is a sufficient testimony to the merit of his productions, which were so far from appear- ing with any peculiar advantages, that his first publication had nearly sunk under the dislike at- tached to a narrow and gloomy system of religion. The lamented author passed his life in an obscure retreat from the world, doubly darkened by the shades of a morbid melancholy ; and nothing could have forced him upon the public view but a blaze of genius not to be repressed by unfortunate cir- cumstances. His works are now become an inse- parable part of the mass of approved English poe- try, and they could not fail to engage your notice mthout any care of niine to point them out. I cannot hesitate, therefore, to include among the subjects of my observations, an author who soonef or later must come iuto your hands, and has so good a claim to the reputation he has acquired. Tl»e eoAVPER. 217" The pieces principally composing the first vol- ume of Cowper's poems are arranged under the heads of Error, Truth, Expostulation, Hope, Charity, Conversation, and Retirement. These topics are treated in a familiar and desul- tory manner, with a continual reference to those religious principles which are commonly termed methodistical ; and a vein of severe rebuke rims through them, which the author himself afterwards admitted to be too aci'imonious. Yet in the midst of his doctrinal austerity, a truly benevolent heart is perpetually displaying itself, joined with a noble spirit of freedom and independence. Keen and sagacious reflexions upon life and manners, and frequent sallies of genui'ne humour, are interspersed, which must be relished by readers who are no friends to his system of divinity ; yet even the latter in many instances stands apart from peculiar doctrines, and presents only sentiments of pure and exalted- piety. The verse is heroic couplet, generally of a loose and careless structure, and the diction is for the most part simple and prosaic. There are, how- ever, strains of poetry wrought with care, and glowing with the fervour of genius. An air of originality pervades the whole ; and though well acquainted Avith classical literature, no writer is less of a boiTower. All the pieces under the enumerated heads will amply repay the perusal : but you will perhaps find most to please you T in 218 LETTER SX. in those of Charity, Conversation, and retirement- In the first of these are sonic admirably energetic lines against the slave trade, which was an object of his rooted abhorrence. The « Altar of Liberty" is a fine fancy -piece ; and the i.ciples at Emmaus, as a story told with the gi'ace of true simplicity. The exquisite representations of the Melancholy iSIan, in " Retirement," were too faithful copies of what the v.riter saw and felt in himself. How poetical, and how touching, are tlie following lines ! Then, neither heathy wilds, ntfr scenes as faij As ever tecompeosed the peasant's care. Nor soft declivities with tufted hills. Nor view of waters turning busy mWU ; Parks in which art preceptress nature weds. Nor gardens interspers'd with flowery beds. Nor gales that catch the scent of blooming groves, And waft it to the mourner as he roves. Can call up life into his faded eye. That passes all he sees unheeded by ; No wounds like those a wounded spirit fecfs, No cure for such, till God, who makes tliem, heaU, These pieces, as I have before baited, v/ere little known or noticed, till the appearance of the second volume of Cov/per's poems, chiefly occu- pied by " The Task." This production seemed instantly to captivate the p\iblic favour, and the fame of the 7ictj /wet rapidly spread throughout the kingdom. Perhaps no poetical v.ork uncon- nected Vv'ith temporary topics ever acquired more readers in an equal period. It is a composiiion iu every respect unique. From a (ask of "writing verses upon a sofa, sportively set by a lady, it has swelled to a poem of five books, each distinguished by a separate title, but unrestricted to subject or method. The matter consists of description, chiefly rural, intermixed with moral and religious sentiment, and portraitures of life and manners, altogether forming a varied tissue, of no certairi pattern or design, but extremely rich in original thoughts ^20 LETTER XX. thoiiij'ita and poetical beauties. The writer's theo- logical tenets and satirical vein are sufficiently maniftist throughout the work, but they appear more softened than in the former volume. The delhieations of natural objects in the " Tusk" are all copied with great accuracy from nature, and finished with minute delicacy. They "svould resemble the Dutch style of painting, did not the writer's elegance of taste generally lead lum to select only such objects as are capable of pleasing or picturesque effect. The circumstances and appendages are often, indeed, little in them- selves, but they wonderfully contribute to the truth and liveliness of the draughts. The picture of the woodman and his dog, which has been happily transferred to the canvas, may be taken for an ex- ample of his manner. The " Task'"' is judiciously composed in blank verse, the freedom of which coincides with the uniimited range of the matter, and the familiarity of the diction. The modulation is generally care- less and unstudied ; but where he thought it worth his while, he lias shown himself a master of tlie melody of v>hich this species of versification is susceptible. The language may sometimes ap- pear below the poetical standard ; but he was such a foe to alTectation in any shape, that he seems to have avoided nothing so much as the stifl' pom- posity so commcn toblank verse writers. Thr.t he was COWPEtt. 221 was capable of any degree of elegance and true elevation, he has proved by numerous instances where the subject demanded those qualities. The particular passages in the several books which de- serve to be dwelt upon are so numerous, that I shall not attempt to point them out, but leave to you the pleasing task of marking such as suit your own taste : and I doubt not that, in the course of frequent perusals, you will suffer none of the beauties to escape you. There are not many ex- amples of the exercise of those higher powers of the fancy which invent and create ; yet his per- sonification of Winter in the 4th book may be cited as one of the most poetical and well-wrought fictions of the kind; The idea of seating him upon a sledge-chariot, driven over the ice by storms, is beautifully grand. The allegory of Discipline is admirable, but can scarcely be called a formation of the fancy, since his figure and ministration arc entirely human. The miscellaneous pieces which contribute to fill tiie two vokmies are all possessed of some ap- propriate merit, and display the versatile talents of the author. Who has not laughed over John Gil- pin, or sympathised with Selkirk ? The most im- portant of these detached pieces is " Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools," which a parent cannot read without many serious reflexions. These will not at present much interest you, but you will be •touched 221 tETTER XX. touched with the pathetic address to the father just on the point of sending his son to a public school : Kow look on bim, whoie very TOice in tone Just echoes thine, whose features are thine own, And stroke his poliih'd cheek of purest red. And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head. And say.. .My boy, th' unwelcome hour is come,- When thou, transplanted from thy genial liome. Must find a colder soil and bleaker air. And trust for safety to a stranger's care. It is in such domestic pictures of llie tender kind that Cowper is inimitable ! If you wish to feel the full force of the simple pathetic, raised by no other art than the selection of little circumstances, which could only have sug- gested themselves to an exquisitely sensible heart, you must turn to the piece which has lately ap- peared in his " Life by Hayley," addressed to the beloved companion of so many years, his Maryy now reduced to second infancy. All the studied elegies and monodiies that were ever written are poor in effect to this effusion. I will not close my letter without recommend- ing to your notice a still later poetical publication, although I may incur some suspicion of partiality in HEKRY MOORS. 225 in so doing, on account of the relation in which I stand towards it as editor : it was, however, solely from an impression of its excellence that I was induced to undertake this office, the worthy author being totally unknown to me. This is the " Poems Lyrical and IVIiscellaneous of the late Reverend Henry Moore." They will not, perhaps, rank among the more original compositions in the lan- guage ; but I am mistaken if they Vv-ill not main- tain a permament place among the most splendid, the most melodious, the most elevated in sentiment and diction. The versification of the Odes is per- haps too void of regularity, but it abounds in strains exquisitely musical, and often happily adapted to the subject. The imagery is singularly grand, elegant, and rich, and both the sublime and the pathetic are touched with a master hand. Above all, these pieces are characterised by that expansive glow of benevolence, that ardour of pure and ra- tional devotion, which, when allied to genuine poetry, exert the noblest influence on the soul. I have nov/, my dear young friend, completed my original design of pointing out to you such a course of reading in the English Poets as might at the same time contribute to form your literary taste, and provide you v»ith a fund of rational and exalted entertainment. Of the value of such a lasting and easily procurable source of pleasure, I can speak from my own experience ; nor do I think 22i LETTER XX. think it less adapted ' to solace the domestic leisure of a female, than to relieve the cares and labours of masculine occupation. I am also convinced, that such an union of moral and religious sentiment with the harmony of numbers and the splendour of language, as our best poets afford, is of important use in elevating the mind, and fortifying it against those trials to which the human condition is per- petually exposed. Nor are the lighter strains with- out their value in promoting a harmless gaiety chastised by elegance and refinement. That to your other accomplishments you may join every advantage of head and heart which men- tal cultivation is capable of imparting, is the sin- cere wish of Your truly affectionate J. A. THE EXD. t