human character, are added to them. There is something of this in Thomson's Seasons; but much less of it; and his diction wants the compressed vigour, and classical elegance of Gray it is often diffuse and cumbrous; while not infrequently his sentiments and thoughts are trite and ostentatious. Shenstone's defect is tenuity and sameness : yet his Elegy on Jessy is a specimen of exquisite tenderness, purity, elegance, and harmony.

But Gray is a Poet of one of the first ranks : Thomson perhaps approaching to them. Of all the minor Poets, Parnel is among those who deserve the highest praise. His Hermit is as fascinating, as it is instructive; which, without much force, or bold originality, partakes in due proportions of the essential ingredients of poetry. Of a still more vigorous and happy cast, though of less comprehensive morality, is Prior's Henry and Emma.

It is by embodying and bringing into action speculative views of human character, that the poet is performing his great task of Creation. Whatever stands insulated and abstracted from a series of actions, must depend upon the force and happiness of combination of image, emotion, thought, and language. In these last consists principally Lyrical, Descriptive, and Didactic poetry. As an Epic Poem is the highest species of invented Tale; so every Tale requires more invention than these last. But it is singular that the best of the second class of Poets have seldom aspired to this degree of invention: they have left it to their inferiors, who have relied more on the interest of the outlines of the Tale, than on the merits of the details with which these outlines were filled up. Perhaps they deemed it wiser to place their hope on the sterling ore of their materials, than on the claims of extended design : and that it was better to approach excellence in a minor

department, than to stop at mediocrity in that, which was superior.

It cannot be because the subjects of poetry are exhausted, but because poets shrink from traversing the true paths, that novelty is sought in false directions. They perceive the difficulties and escape into regions of singularity and wonder, where artifice and surprise may cover their want of native and simple strength.

In looking back on the whole Body of English Poetry, how little is there, on a severe examination, which rises above mediocrity; or of which the faults do not overweigh the merits. The true tone is canght for a few moments; and then the author relapses into discord, or flatness, or absurdity. What a proof of the intensity of the powers which this Art demands! How many can mount the air; but how few can keep on the wing! It is the fire within, that fails; and memory and effort cannot supply its place. False thoughts; false metaphors; the cold chilling airs of technicality succeed; the charm is gone; and the exhausted poet falls to the ground.

A calm research into the innumerable volumes of the Candidates for Poetical fame will furnish inexhaustible evidence of these assertions. It is the inequality of most of the aspirants, which has sunk them into oblivion (1).

Such is the ill-nature of the world, that they remember

(1) This appears to be the true reason, why so many volumes of English poetry, of which the authors have given occasional specimens of real genius, have been laid aside and forgotten while those of others, with meaner qualities, but more uniformity, have survived. I can no otherwise account for the oblivion of many of the Lyrical Poets of Charles I's reign of Wither, Carew, Habingdon, Lovelace, Herrick, Stanley, L. Pembroke, Fanshaw, etc. Of each of these we can name one or two pieces, of which some are elegant and happy, and others exquisite !

the failures of an author, rather than his merits. Pope brought forth nothing, which was not highly laboured, and highly polished. All the management of an Artist appears, in addition to the power of Genius. It is perhaps by this maaagement, this economy of the native fire, that the means of endurance are preserved.

Of that species of Poetry, which is preeminent in the display of the faculty of the Understanding, in which the talent of reasoning of an acute and vigorous judgement is exerted, Pope's Essay on Criticism is in every respect one of the most extraordinary. In all that is technical it is nearly perfect. In denseness of matter it comprises more, than ever was pressed into the same space. Its lucid arrangement is excellent. Its precepts are all just; and expressed with admirable perspicuity, elegance, and happiness of illustration. But they are not only just; many of them strike with a delightful novelty, from the felicitous force of the distinctions which they communicate. They are as comprehensive as they are minute; and display that candor, solidity, and temperate wisdom, which entitle them to the character of eternal truths. Is it possible to reflect without increasing astonishment, when we consider that this profound and perfect composition was produced at the age of twenty? It would be well for modern Critics to attend to the rules of this Essay!

« If Wit so much from ignorance undergo
Ah, let not learning too commence its foe!
Of old, those met rewards, who could excel,
And such were praised, who endeavour'd well;
Though triumphs were to generals only due,
Crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too :
Now they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown,
Employ their pains to spurn some others down;

And while self-love each jealous writer rules,
Contending wits become the sport of fools :
But still the worst with most regret commend;
For each ill author is as bad a friend ».

But this age, which is so fond of bitter and relentless criticism, is as extravagant in its praises, as in its censures (1). Yet injudicious and excessive panegyric is surely rather hurtful than beneficial to its object. Mr. Campbell will scarcely thank his friend Fabius (2) for the following: << It is not generous in your Lordship, nor yet just, to sacrifice all your cotemporaries to the angry Manes of Pope. There is at least, ONE LIVING POET, who is as far superior to Pope, both « in the thoughts that breathe, and words that burn,» as Pope is superior to Tickell. I accuse not your Lordship of envy; your pride of genius must spurn the approach of a passion so humiliating. Tell us then what part of Pope's writings would supply the divinity, that breathes and speaks in every part of Oconnor's Child? Will posterity indeed prefer the Eloise to GERTRUDE; the Rape of the Lock to the Exile of Erin; and the Essay on Man to the PLEASURES OF HOPE? Pope was a poet; and he possessed an eminent and rare claim to the title he knew how to touch, retouch, polish, alter, and improve every line, till it was highly finished. It is not the selection of the individual, Antinous, but the perfect execution, that has « gathered into existence the poetry of the bust ». In the present age, your Lordship knows, that there is only one poet, who finishes; and his finishing, like his genius, is far superior to Pope's

(1) The greater part of the Living Poets, who are in fashion, are I believe, themselves writers in the most popular Reviews'. (2) Letter to Lord Byron, protesting against the immolation of Gray, Cowper, and Campbell, at the shrine of Pope.

The same Critic has the following monstrous remark :

« In the writings of Pope I look in vain for the genuine operation of feeling, for the honest movements of the for the real voice of nature,

heart;
for the true
language of passion. All these appear in Pope like the image
of the snow-clad trees in the icy lake. »

It is a DISCOVERY, that there is no passion in the ELOISA
TO ABELARD; no movements of the heart in the ELEGY ON
AN UNFORTUNATE LADY; and in the DEDICATION of Parnell's
Poems To LORD OXFORD!

It is in vain, that this Critic attempts to dispute Lord Byron's position, that « the highest of all poetry is ethical poetry, as the highest of all earthly objects must be moral truth (1). This position stands on a rock perhaps Lord B.'s illustrations of it require to be a little more guarded and qualified. Mere moral truth does not constitute poetry: it must be moral truth conveyed in a poetical manner. Half the errors in modern judgements on this subject arise from the narrow notion, that good poetry must principally consist of imagery.

:

(1) says

Campbell in his « Essay on English Poetry », very happily « Why try Pope, or any other poet, exclusively by his powers of describing inanimate phenomena ? Nature, in the wide and proper sense of the word, means life in all its circumstances, nature moral, as well as external ». Pope's discrimination lay in the lights and shades of human manners, which are at least as interesting as those of rocks and leaves (2). In moral eloquence he is for ever densus and instans sibi ».

It is true, that Man in society does not indulge those sublime musings, which, if his mind be full of energy and

(1) In his Letter in answer to Bowles's Strictures on Pope.

(2) Specimens of Brit. Poets, 1. 24.

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