man creatures are not the more honest for being poor." It appears to me that the Addisonian sentence, taking nothing in the abstract, could not be translated into any thing like poetry, though it might be put into rhyme-while Johnson's easily becomes ethic poetry, and would, from his pen, have been such poetry as his admirable imitation of the 10th satire of Juvenal. My hasty attempt shall not make so proud a claim, Disgrac'd alike by imposition's stealth, The superior facility with which verse impresses itself on the mind, in comparison with prose, makes it a better vehicle for the axioms of moral philosophy, at least according to experience, and the opinion of all former writers. Whatever is impressive, or elevated, or witty, becomes the poetic dress, though it may not be picturesque.-In stances: "His sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country's cause, May I, or noble life, or death obtain, Death, ill-exchang'd for bondage, or for pain." "Olet not man be proud, but firm of mind, "Passions like elements, tho' born to fight, "These gifts to man the laws of God ordain, "What gave great Villiers to th' assassin's knife? What, but their wish induig'd, in courts to shine, There is no imagery in these sentences-but surely Parnassus has its philosophers and moralists as well as its painters. The aphorisms would do in prose, but they would not so deeply impress the memory. I have obtained more clear and accurate ideas of what constitutes the beauty of rural scenery, from Mason's English Garden, than any prose tract could have given me. And Akenside, our mutual favourite you will recollect that his poetry is professedly philosophic. Resting my defence of philosophy and science, as proper sub jects for poetry, under the shadow of his ample and splendid wing, I remain, dear Sir, your's sincerely. LETTER LXVII. COURT DEWES, Eso. Lichfield, May 3, 1789. THANK you for gratifying my curiosity concerning the circumstances of a connection formed by a charming young lady, so near, and so dear to yourself. The bride and groom were so good as to call upon me in their road through Lichfield to Hagley. It gives me pleasure to find that your new nephew is the brother of one of the most engaging men I know. With Mr George Waddington I passed two months, in the summer 1777, beneath the hospitable roof of very old friends of mine, in Yorkshire, to whose eldest son he was then private tutor. You will find him learned and ingenious; the erudition of colleges, with the politeness of courts at least, such he then was-or such I fancied him-but years, as they pass, sometimes shed rust upon graces; and friendship, with people of warm imagination, even more frequently turns upon pleasing qualities the magnifying end of the telescope. At length D.'s brilliant poem, the Botanic Garden, appears, enriched with extraneous imagery, allusion, scenery, and description from the mechanism of various arts, and the marvels of various mythology. The simplex mundities of writing, which at times so well becomes the poet, might certainly be better spared in this peculiar work, than from any other imaginable theme; but were he to give us an epic, a narrative, or ethic poem, and his genius is questionless equal to any species of poetic composition, I apprehend his maxim, that every thing in poetry should be picture, would lead him to overcharge, even such a composition, with a profusion of high-wrought ornament. Mrs Smith had a very good concert-her room was full-her friends were generous-and I never heard her voice in so much power. The music and songs were admirably selected, and seemed to please extremely. I wish you could have added to your bounty to her, the delight of your encou raging smile. Thus far was written on Friday evening-unwilling to lose the entire benefit of its fast-fading sun-beams, I walked out, and found, on my re turn, the illustrious, the graceful Hayley, in my dressing-room. He is going to Rome, and the rest of the Italian cities-had been at Derby, to settle Mrs Hayley in lodgings there, during his absence, near her friend, Mrs Berridge. He circled round by Lichfield to take his leave of myself, and of his friend Mr Saville, who was unfortunately at Birmingham. He said indispensable business called him immediately to town, and he set out the next morning. I travelled with him to Coleshill. He looks vastly well, but I dread the influence of sultry climates on an habit so feverish. The nonsense and malice of the public critics, seem to have given him the same disgust to the idea of publishing, that sickens upon my spirit, and slackens all my nerves of poetic industry. LETTER LXVIII. DR DARWIN. Lichfield, May 22, 1789. I AM again obliged by your attention to me, in replying so soon to my observations on your |