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possessed before among the wits; and he might perhaps hare risen to a greater elevation of character, but that his sto. dies were ended with his life, by a putrid fever, June 23, 1770, in the forty-ninth year of his age.
A KENSIDE is to be considered as a didactic and lyric poet. His great work is . The Pleasures of Imagination;' a performance which, published as it was, at the age of twenty-three, raised expectations that were not very amply satisfied. It has undoubtedly ajust claim to very particular notice, as an example of great felicity of genius, and uncommon amplitude of acquisitions, of a young mind stored with images, and much exercised in combining and comparing them.
With the philosophical or religious tenets of the author I have nothing to do; my business is with his poetry. The subject is well chosen, as it includes all images that can strike or please, and thus comprises every species of poetical delight. The only difficulty is in the choice of examples and illustrations, and it is not easy, in such exuberance of matter to find the middle point between penury and satiety. The parts seem artificially disposed, with sufficient coherence, so as that they cannot change their place without injury to the general design,
His images are displayed with such luxuriance of expression, that they are hidden, like Butler's moon, by a' veil of light;' they are forms favtastically lost under superfluity of dress. Pars minima est ipsa puella sui. The words are multiplied till the sense is hardly perceived ; attention deserts the mind, and settles in the ear. The reader wan. ders through the gay diffusion, sometimes'amazed, and sometimes delighted, but, after many turnings in the flowery labyrinth, comes out as he went in. He remarked little, and laid hold op nothing.
To his versification justice requires that praise should not be denied. In the general fabrication of his lines he is, perhaps, superior to any other writer of blank verse; bis flow is smooth, and his pauses are musical; but the conca. tenation of his verses is commonly too long continued, and the full close does not recur with sufficient frequency. The sense is carried on through a long intertexture of complicated clauses, and, as nothing is distinguished, nothing is remembered.
The exemption which blank verse affords from the necessity of closing the sense with the couplet betrays luxuriant and active minds into such self-indulgence, that they pile image upon image, ornament upou ornament, and are not easily persuaded to close the sense at all. Blank verse will, therefore, I fear, be too often found in description exu. berant, in argumeut loquacious, and io narration tiresome.
His diction is certainly poetical as it is not prosaic, and elegant as it is not vulgar. He is to be commended as hav. ing fewer artifices of disgust than most of his brethren of the blank song. He rarely either recalls old phrases, or twists his metre into harsh inversions. The sense, how. ever, of his words is strained, when he views the Ganges from Alpine heights ;' that is, from mountains like the Alps. And the pedant surely intrudes (but when was blank verse without pedantry?) when be tells how "Planets absolve the stated round of Time.'
It is generally known to the readers of poetry that he intended to revise and augment this work, but died before he had completed his design. The reformed work as he left it, and the additions which he had made, are very properly retained in the late collection. He seems to have somewhat contracted his diffusion: but I know not whether he has gained in closeness what he has lost in splendour. In the additional book, "The Tale of Solon' is too long.
One great defect of his poem is very properly censured by Mr. Walker, unless it may be said, in his defence, that what he has omitted was not properly in his plan. His 'picture of man is grand and beautiful, but unfinished. The immortality of the soul, which is the natural consequence of the appetites and powers she is invested with, is scarcely once hinted throughout the poem. This deficiency is amply supplied by the masterly pencil of Dr. Young; who, like a good philosopher, has invincibly proved the immortality of man, from the grandeur of his conceptions, and the meanness and misery of his state; for this reason, a few pas. sages are selected from the “ Night Thoughts," which, with those of Akepside, seem to form a complete view of the powers, situation, and end of man.'—" Exercises for Im. provement in Elocution," p. 66.
His other poems are now to be considered; but a short consideration will dispatch them. It is not easy to guess why he addicted himself so diligently to lyric poetry, bav. ing neither the ease and airiness of the lighter, nor the vehemence and elevation of the grander ode. When he lays his ill-fated hand upon the harp, his former powers seem to desert him; he has no longer his luxuriance of expres. sion, nor variety of images. His thoughts are cold, and his words inelegant. Yet such was his love of lyrics, that having written with great vigour and poignancy his . Epistle co Curio,'he transformed it afterward into an ode disgraceful only to its author,
Of his odes nothing favourable can be said; the sentiments commonly want force, nature, or novelty; the diction is sometimes harsh and uncouth, the stauzas ill-constructed and unpleasant, and the rhyines dissonant, or unskilfully disposed, too distant from each other, or arranged with too little regard to established use, and therefore perplexing to the ear, which in a short composition has dot time to grow familiar with an innovation.
To examine such compositions singly cannot be required; they have doubtless brighter and darker parts; but, when they are once found to be generally dull, all further labour may be spared; for to what use can the work be criticised that will not be read?
GRAY. Thomas GRAY, the son of Mr. Philip Gray, a scrivener of London, was born in Cornhill, November 26, 1716. His grammatical education he received at Etop under the care of Mr. Antrobus, his mother's brother, then assistant to Dr. George; and when he left school, in 1734, entered a pensioner at Peter-house in Cambridge.
The transition from the school to the college is, to most young scholars, the time from which they date their
years of manhood, liberty, and bappiness; but Gray seems to have been very little delighted with academical qualificatious; he liked at Cambridge neither the mode of life por the fashion of study, and lived sullenly on to the time when his attendance on lectures was no longer required. As be intended to profess the common law, he took no degree.
When he had been at Cambridge about five years, Mr. Horace Walpole, whose friendship he had gained at Eton,
iavited him to travel with him as his companion. They wandered through France into Italy; and Gray's Letters' contain a very pleasing account of many parts of their journey. But unequal friendships are easily dissolved: at Florence they quarrelled, and parted; and Mr. Walpole is Dow content to have it told that it was by his fault. If we look, however, without prejudice on the world, we shall find that men, whose consciousness of their own merit sets them above the compliances of servility, are apt enough in their association with superiors to watch their own dignity with troublesome and punctilious jealousy, and in the fervour of independence to exact that attention which they refuse to pay. Part they did, whatever was the quarrel ; and the rest of their travels was doubtless more unpleasant to them both. Gray continued his journey in a manner suitable to his own little fortune, with only an occasional servant.
He returned to England in September, 1741, and in about two months afterward buried his father, who had, by an injudicious waste of money upon a new house, so much lessened his fortune, that Gray thought himself too poor to study the law. He therefore retired to Cambridge, where he soon after became bachelor of civil law, and where, without liking the place or its inhabitants, or professing to like them, he passed, except a short residence at London, the rest of his life.
About this time he was deprived of Mr. West, the son of a chancellor of Ireland, a friend on whom he appears to have set a high value, and who deserves his esteem by the powers which he shews in his letters, and in the Ode to May,' which Mr. Mason has preserved, as well as by the sincerity with which, when Gray sent bim part of ' Agrip. pina,' a tragedy that he bad just begun, he gave an opinion which probably intercepted the progress of the work, and which the judgment of every reader will confirm. certainly no loss to the English stage that. Agrippina' was never finished.
Iu this year (1742) Gray seems to have applied bimself seriously to poetry; for in this year were produced the • Ode to Spring,' his · Prospect of Eton,' and his • Ode to Adversity.' He began likewise a Latin poem, 'De Princi. piis Cogitandi,
It may be collected from the Darrative of Mr. Mason, that his first ambition was to have excelled in Latin poetry: perhaps it were reasonable to wish that he had prosecuted his design; for, though there is at present some embarrasment in his phrase, and some harshuess in his lyric num. bers, his copiousness of language is such as very few possess; and his lines, even when imperfect, discover a writer whom practice would have made skilful.
He now lived on at Peter-house, very little solicitous what others did or thought, and cultivated his mind and enlarged his views without any other purpose than of improving and amusing himself; when Mr. Mason, being elected fellow of Pembroke Hall, brought him a companion who was afterward to be his editor, and whose fondness and fidelity has kindled in him a zeal of admiration which cannot be reasonably expected from the neutrality of a stranger, and the coldness of a critic.
In his retirement he wrote (1747) an ode on the ' Death of Mr. Walpole's Cat,' and the year afterward attempted a poem, of more inportance, on Government and Educa. tion,' of which the fragments which remain have many excellent lines.
His next production (1750) was his far-famed ' Elegy in à Churchyard, which, finding its way into a magazioe, first, I believe, made him known to the public.
Ao invitation fron Lady Cobham about this time gave occasion to an odd composition called ' A long Story,' which adds little to Gray's character.
Several of his pieces were published (1753) with designs by Mr. Bentley: and that they might in some form or other make a book, only one side of each leaf was pripted. I believe the poems and the plates recommended each other so well, that the whole impression was soon bought. This year he lost his mother.
Some time afterward (1756) some young men of the col. lege, whose chambers were near his, diverted themselves with disturbing him by frequent and troublesome noises, and, as is said, by pranks yet more offensive and contempluous. This insolence, having endured it awhile, he represented to the governors of the society, among whom perhaps he had no friends; and, finding his complaint little regarded, removed himself to Pembroke Hall.