This rhyme-translation is charmingly spirited, though, to my ear, its versification is clogged and encumbered by what Mr W. fancies gives it freedom, the frequent triplet, and the Alexandrine that does not terminate a passage.

I admire our friend's genius, but, in the same degree, do I lament the strength of his prejudices, and the errors of his system. They have betrayed him, through the preface to this work, into mistakes the most glaring, and into injustice to the illustrious band of poets, that, with redoubled rays, have warmed the nation within the last halfcentury; injustice, that wears the appearance of an invidiousness which, I feel assured, has not, in reality, tainted his honest heart. If I do not publicly enter my protest against his injustice to the writers I revere, the immeasurably high and much unmerited compliments which he pays me in the close of that afflicting preface, together with our known friendship, will make it believed, that our opinions are one respecting his infatuated assertion, that the modern poets have poisoned the Pierian spring.

Mr W. writes, in this preface, as if the excellence, or non-excellence, of a poem, had its final dependence upon the mode of its versification, and as if the couplet were the only order of rhyme. He seems to forget, that the lyric, with its count

less varieties and unlimited privileges, affords an ample field for his Alexandrines and triplets, whose licentious use suits not the requisite chastity of the couplet-melodies; though the sense frequently overflowing the couplet cannot, I think, be justly termed a violation of that chastity; but it is destroyed by jingling into the botching triplet, or by lagging in Alexandrines, during the middle of a passage. Their effect is majestic, not only at the termination of a poem, but of its sentences, provided a new subject commences immediately.

After all, it is a small part of the intrinsic excellence of poetry, that depends on what the Drydenic slovenliness, or the Popeian elegance, can give or take away. A composition is worth little, that does not remain fine poetry after being taken out of all measure. Where it has sublimity of sentiment, ingenuity of allusion, and strength of imagery, to stand that test, just Taste gives an author leave to do almost what he pleases with the numbers, provided he does not insist upon a preference of the slovenly to the polished ones, readily promising that such a work will be dear to her in any dress.

Mr Weston's reasoning about the eligibility of keeping down certain parts of poetry, upon the painter's system, is perfectly just; but, unfortu

nately for Dryden, it is no excuse for bombast, fustian, incongruous metaphor, inconsistent fable, and impertinent familiarity of style. These are the corruptions with which he defiled, at times, the living waters of the Pierian spring, to which his fine genius had such constant access.

The only thing which I protest against in our friend's first translation of your poem, is the melting down four brothers into one, by giving them the sign of the person singular. Without a note, nobody could have guessed the meaning of the passage; and though a note is always better than a passage left in obscurity, yet is it highly desirable to avoid all unnecessary expressions, which demand a prose explanation. The epithet fourfold, could not have expressed the idea sufficiently. A mystery at least one degree harder to be conceived than that of the Trinity.

is

Apropos of compound epithets. How much our friend out in calling them tinkling, and in ranking them amongst the habits of the Popeian school! They are of the Miltonic school-have a nervous condensing power; and, through an erroneous dread of their producing harshness, were too much disused by Pope and his disciples.

It is not true of Pope, that he polished every thing high. His Satires, his Ethic Epistles, the glorious Dunciad, and even several parts of the

Essay on Man, frequently present passages in a plain unornamented style, though not, it is true, with the says he's, and says she's, and the belikes of Dryden.

VOL. II.

Pope's friends, in his lifetime, asserted opinions like these of mine publicly; and Mr Weston injuriously imputes them to his influence, to a design of assassinating the fame of his great predecessor, to which he uniformly bears very ardent testimony, regretting only that he had not learned the art to blot, a regret in which surely all people of just taste must unite.

A friend is with me, whom I quit with reluctance to take up my pen, even to you, who have so much honoured and obliged me. I am, Sir, Your faithful humble servant.

LETTER LIX.

MRS PIOZZI.

Lichfield, Feb. 13, 1789.

Too sensible am I of the rapidity with which my dear Mrs Piozzi's hours must fleet away, to feel resentment arise and mix with my regrets when she is silent.

I must account to you, dearest Madam, how it came to pass that I knew not, till I received your letter, of the existence of such a poem as Diversity.

My long conviction concerning the total incompetence of our modern public critics to estimate the genuine value of poetic compositions; my nausea of their false rules and blundering analizations, their venal praise and malicious abuse, at length made me resolve to avoid wasting my time over any of them, except the Gentleman's Magazine, to which I often send verses and little essays. It is several years since I have seen any of its brethren, that has not been obtruded upon my attention, and I see only one newspaper, the General Evening. Hence is it that I sometimes