And wounds the blushing cheeke, and fiery eye,
Of him that hears and readeth guiltily.

Ye antique fatires, how I bleffe your dayes,
That brook'd your bolder ftile-their own difpraise;
And well near wifh, yet joy my wifh is vaine,
I had been then, or they been now againe!
In the first couplet above quoted, however, a
fimile is confounded with a metaphor,

The following allufions are not unlucky:
Yet certes Mocha is a Platonist,

To all, they fay, but whofo do not lift;
Because her husband, a far traffick'd man,
Is a profest Peripatecian.

In Book VI, and laft, which confifts of only
one Satire, fpeaking of a factor, who knows
he is in his lord's last will, and of his pretended
grief at the fickness of his patron, he proceeds;
Then turns his back, and smiles and looks askance,
Seas'ning again his forrow'd countenance.
Whiles yet he wearies heaven with daily cries,
And backward death with devout facrifice;
That they would now his tedious ghost bereav'n;
And wishes well, that wifh'd no worse than heav'n,

There is a curious mixture of the manner of Shakspere, and Pope, in the above quotation; and in the following there is as curious an anticipation,

Go2

Go, Arioft, and gape for what
may falt
From trencher of a flattering cardinal ;
And if thou getteft but a pedant's fee,
Thy bed, thy board, and coarser livery;
O honour far beyond a brazen fhrine,
To fit with Tarleton on an ale-poft's figne!

The following ridicule of the then fashionable ftyle of writing fhews, that our author's tafte was as juft as his compofition is excellent.

He knows the grace of that new elegance,
Which sweet Philifides fetch'd of late from France;
That well befeem'd his high-ftil'd Arcady
Tho others marre it with much liberty.
In epithetes to joine two wordes in one;
Forfooth for adjectives can't ftand alone.
As a great poet could of Bacchus say,
That he was Semele-femori-gena.

The following ftroke upon false descriptions of beauty is witty,

Another thinks her teeth might liken'd be

To two faire rankes of pales of ivory;
To fence in fure the wild-beaft of her tongue
From either going far or going wrong.

I fhall

I fhall conclude with obferving, that no poet in our language has had fo little justice done him as the writer of these Satires. It must be owned, that in reading fatire we expect to find real characters, which are here wanting, every attempt of this kind being the evident product of the author's invention only; and it must likewise be confeffed, that the whole work fmells more of the scholar, than of the man of the world. To compenfate these small faults, this volume difplays a correctness and manlinefs of thought, that for the age of conceits in which it was published are quite wonderful; and, in general, a beauty and harmony of verfification that leave little to with. Were Were my fuffrage of any weight, Bishop Hall should instantly burst from the cloud which still envelops him; and, like another Æneas, receive at once the honour due to his merit.

LETTER

LETTER XVI.

wonder at my affertion on a former

You
Yoccafion*, that Virgil has not the most

diftant pretence to any attribute of a poet, except that of a fine ftyle. To vindicate my opinion from the charge of rashness, I now fubmit to you my reafons. It is indeed dangerous to attack the reputation of a good writer, as I allow Virgil to be, in any re

fpect; for if your affault is not fupported by a ftrong host of arguments, it will recoil upon yourself. But, as I know your libérality of fentiment too well, to fear your pronouncing haftily upon an opinion, merely because it controverts your ideas, or those of the world at large, I fhall lay what I call my proofs before you without hesitation.

1

* Letter IX.

IT

Ir is agreed by all the critics, that genius, known by invention, as a caufe from its effect, is the very firft power and praise of a poet. I believe, however, the most fanguine admirer of Virgil will allow, that not one ray of invention appears thro his whole works. His Eclogues, confidered as works of invention, are beneath all contempt. Where he has not followed the tract of Theocritus, he has wandered into childish abfurdity: witness the Pollio; in which, becaufe fome fenator's wife was brought to bed of a chopping boy, he prophefies the golden age will return. I know fome Chriftian writers have applied this prophetic eclogue to an higher event—but I see you fmile in contempt;—and I pass the dreams of fanaticism. Witness the Sixth Eclogue, into which a fyftem of philofophy has crept by fome strange back-door or other, A critic in the Adventurer has pronounced all the Paftor rals of Virgil exceptionable, except the First and Tenth: now in these there is no invention, both of them, as that critic allows, deriv. ing their fuperiority from their being founded on real events. I conclude, therefore, that Virgil is, in his Paftorals, no poet, but merely an excellent verfifier.