language used by Lauder, in the publication I am speaking of, shews indeed that the contemptuous abhorrence, which this unhappy scholar had conceived of Milton, really bordered upon insanity. Without pointing to any particular instances of plagiarism, he bestows on the poet the extraordinary title of the arch felon; and inserts a singular epigram, written by a servile foreigner, to prove Milton an atheist. Not contented with reviling the great author: himself, he extends the virulent attack to his nephew Philips, whom he accuses of having favored, by a suspicious silence, the secret practice of his uncle, in riffling the treasures of others. "Philips (says Lauder) every where in his Theatrum Poetarum,' either wholly passes over in silence such authors as Milton was most obliged to, or, if he chances to mention them, does it in the most slight and superficial manner ima ginable."

There is some acuteness, and more truth, in this observation concerning Philips, than Lauder was himself aware of. Though

Milton was indeed no plagiary, and his nephew of course had no thefts to conceal, it is very remarkable that Philips, giving an account of poets in all languages, omits such of their works as were built on subjects resembling those of his uncle. This omission is not only striking in the brief account he gives of the Latin poets collected by Lauder; it extends to some Italian writers, of whom I shall presently have occasion to speak more at large. Let me first observe, in apology for the omissions of Philips, which are too frequent to be considered as accidental, that he probably chose not to enumerate various poems relating to angels, to Adam, and to Paradise, lest ignorance and malice should absurdly consider the mere existence of such poetry as a derogation from the glory of Milton. That Philips had himself no inconsiderable share of poetical taste, and that he was laudably zealous for the honor of his uncle, appears, I think from the following remarks, which I transcribe with pleasure, from his preface to the little book I am speaking of, as they seem

to contain an oblique and graceful compliment to his renowned relation:-" A poet ical fancy is much seen in a choice of verse proper to a chosen subject.

"Wit, ingenuity, and learning in verse, even elegance itself, though that comes nearest, are one thing, true native poetry is another, in which there is a certain air and spirit, which, perhaps, the most learned and judicious in other arts do not perfectly apprehend, much less is it attainable by any study or industry."

This certain air and spirit are assuredly most conspicuous in Milton: he was a poet of nature's creation, but one who added to all her endowments every advantage that study could acquire.

By the force and opulence of his own fancy he was exempted from the inclination and the necessity of borrowing and retailing the ideas of other poets; but, rich as he was in his own proper fund, he chose to be perfectly acquainted, not only with the wealth, but even with the poverty of others. He seems to have read, in different languages,

authors of every class; and I doubt not, but he had perused every poem collected by Lauder, though some of them hardly afford ground enough for a conjecture, that he remembered any passage they contain, in the course of his nobler composition. Johnson in his preface to Lauder's pamphlet, represents the Adamus Exul of Grotius as "the first draught, the prima stamina of the Paradise Lost." The same critic observes, in touching on this subject, in his Life of Milton" Whence he drew the original design has been variously conjectured by men, who cannot bear to think themselves ignorant of that, which, at last, neither diligence nor sagacity can discover. Some find the hint in an Italian tragedy. Voltaire tells a wild, unauthorized story of a farce seen by Milton in Italy, which opened thus: Let the rainbow be the fiddle-stick of the fiddle of heaven.'

The critic was perfectly right in relinquishing his former idea concerning Adamus Exul of Grotius; but, in his remark on Voltaire, he shews how dan

gerous it is to censure any writer for what he says concerning books, which the censurer has no opportunity of examining. Voltaire, indeed, from his predominant passion for ridicule, and from the rash vivacity, that often led him to speak too confidently of various works from a very slight inspection of their contents, is no more to be followed implicitly in points of criticism, than he is on the more important article of religion; but his opinions in literature are generally worth examination, as he possessed no common degree of taste, a perpetual thirst for universal knowledge, and, though not the most intimate, yet, perhaps, the most extensive acquaintance with literary works and literary men that was ever acquired by any individual.

When Voltaire visited England in the early part of his life, and was engaged in soliciting a subscription for his Henriade, which first appeared under the title of "The League," he published, in our language, an Essay on Epic Poetry, a work which, though written under such a disadvantage,