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mer obfervation. Their attempts were always analy, tick; they broke every image into fragments; and could no more reprefent, by their flender conceits and Jaboured particularities, the profpects of nature, or the fcenes of life, than he, who diffects a fun-beam with a prism, can exhibit the wide effulgence of a fummer

noon.

What they wanted however of the fublime, they endeavoured to fupply by hyperbole; their amplification had no limits; they left not only reafon but fancy behind them; and produced combinations of confufed magnificence, that not only could not be credited, but could not be imagined.

Yet great labour, directed by great abilities, is never wholly loft: if they frequently threw away their wit upon falfe conceits, they likewife fometimes ftruck out unexpected truth: if their conceits were far-fetched, they were often worth the carriage. To write on their plan, it was at leaft neceffary to read and think. No man could be born a metaphyfical poet, nor affume the dignity of a writer, by defcriptions copied from defcriptions, by imitations borrowed from imitations, by traditional imagery, and hereditary fimilies, by readiness of rhyme, and volubility of fyllables.

In perufing the works of this race of authors, the mind is exercised either by recollection or inquiry; either fomething already learned is to be retrieved, or fomething new is to be examined. If their greatness feldom elevates, their acutenefs often furprises; if the imagination is not always gratified, at least the powers of reflection and comparison are employed; and in the mass of materials which ingenious abfurdity has thrown toge ther, genuine wit and useful knowledge may be fometimes found, buried perhaps in grofinefs of expreffion,

but

but useful to those who know their value; and fuch as, when they are expanded to perfpicuity, and polished to elegance, may give luftre to works which have more propriety though lefs copioufnefs of fentiment.

This kind of writing, which was, I believe, borrowed from Marino and his followers, had been recommended by the example of Donne, a man of a very extensive and various knowledge; and by Jonfon, whofe manner refembled that of Donne more in the ruggedness of his lines than in the caft of his fentiments.

When their reputation was high, they had undoubtedly more imitators, than time has left behind. Their immediate fucceffors, of whom any remembrance can be faid to remain, were Suckling, Waller, Denham, Cowley, Cleiveland, and Milton. Denham and Waller fought another way to fame, by improving the harmony of our numbers. Milton tried the metaphyfick ftyle only in his lines upon Hobfon the Carrier. Cowley adopted it, and excelled his predeceffors, having as much fentiment, and more mufick. Suckling neither improved verfification, nor abounded in conceits. The fashionable ftyle remained chiefly with Cowley; Suckling could not reach it, and Milton disdained it.

CRITICAL REMARKS are not easily understood without examples; and I have therefore collected inftances of the modes of writing by which this fpecies of poets, for poets they were called by themselves and their admirers, was eminently diftinguished.

A S the authors of this race were perhaps more defirous of being admired than understood, they fometimes drew their conceits from receffes of learning not

very much frequented by common readers of poetry.

Thus Cowley on Knowledge:

The facred tree midst the fair orchard grew;

The phoenix Truth did on it reft,

And built his perfum'd neft,

That right Porphyrian tree which did true logic fhew,

Each leaf did learned notions give,

And th' apples were demonftrative:

So clear their colour and divine,

The very fhade they caft did other lights outfhine.'
On Anacreon continuing a lover in his old age;

Love was with thy life entwin'd,
Close as heat with fire is join'd,

A powerful brand prescrib'd the date.

Of thine, like Meleager's fate.

Th' antiperiftafis of

age

More enflam'd thy amorous rage.

In the following verfes we have an allufion to a Rab binical opinion concerning Manna:

Variety I afk not give me one
To live perpetually upon.

The perfon Love does to us fit,

Like manna, has the taste of all in it.

Thus Donne fhews his medicinal knowledge in fome encomiaftic verfes;

In every thing there naturally grows
A Balfamum to keep it fresh and new,

If 'twere not injur'd by extrinfique blows;
Your youth and beauty are this balm in you.
But you, of learning and religion,
And virtue and fuch ingredients, have made
A mithridate, whofe operation

Keeps off, or cures what can be done or faid.

Though

Though the following lines of Donne, on the laft night of the year, have fomething in them too fcholaftic, they are not inelegant :

This twilight of two years, not past nor next,
Some emblem is of me, or I of this,
Who, meteor-like, of ftuff and form perplext,
Whose what and where in difputation is,
If I should call me any thing, fhould mifs.
I fum the years and me, and find me not
Debtor to th' old, nor creditor to th' new,
That cannot fay, my thanks I have forgot,

Nor truft I this with hopes; and yet scarce true
This bravery is, fince these times fhew'd me you.

DONNE.

Yet more abftrufe and profound is Donne's reflection upon Man as a Microcofm:

If men be worlds, there is in every one
Something to answer in fome proportion
All the world's riches: and in good men, this
Virtue, our form's form, and our foul's foul is.

OF thoughts fo far fetched, as to be not only unexpected, but unnatural, all their books are full.

To a Lady, who wrote poefies for rings.

They, who above do various circles find,
Say, like a ring th' æquator heaven does bind.
When heaven shall be adorn'd by thee,
(Which then more heaven than 'tis, will be)
'Tis thou must write the poefy there,

For it wanteth one as yet,

Then the fun pass through't twice a year,
The fun, which is efteem'd the god of wit.

COWLEY,

The difficulties which have been raifed about identity in philosophy, are by Cowley with still more perplexity applied to Love:

Five years ago (fsays story) I lov'd you,

For which you call me most inconstant now ;
Pardon me, madam, you mistake the man;
For I am not the fame that I was then;
No flesh is now the fame 'twas then in me,
And that my mind is chang'd yourself may fee.
The fame thoughts to retain ftill, and intents,
Were more inconftant far; for accidents
Muft of all things moft ftrangely inconstant prove,
If from one fubject they t' another move :

My members then, the father members were

From whence these take their birth, which now are here.

If then this body love what th' other did,

'Twere inceft, which by nature is forbid.

The love of different women is, in geographical poetry, compared to travels through different countries: Haft thou not found, each woman's breast (The land where thou haft travelled)

Either by favages poffeft,

Or wild, and uninhabited?

What joy could'st take, or what repose,
In countries fo uncivilis'd as those?
Luft, the fcorching dog-ftar, here
Rages with immoderate heat;
Whilft Pride, the rugged Northern Bear,
In others makes the cold too great.
And where these are temperate known,
The foil's all barren fand, or rocky stone.

COWLEY.

A lover, burnt up by his affection, is compared to

Egypt:

The

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