No More Learning

Prior
Congreve
Blackmore
Fenton
Gay
Granville
Yalden
Tickell
Hammond
Somervile
Savage
Swift
Broome
Pope
Pitt
Thomson
Watts
A. Philips
West
Collins
Dyer
Shenstone
Young
Mallet
Akenside
Gray
Lyttelton

[Transcriber's Note: "CONTENTS OF THE EIGHTH VOLUME" list of poets
was not present in the original text. ]

------------------------------------------------------------------------




PRIOR.


Matthew Prior is one of those that have burst out from an obscure
original to great eminence. He was born July 21, 1664, according to
some, at Winburn, in Dorsetshire, of I know not what parents; others
say, that he was the son of a joiner of London: he was, perhaps, willing
enough to leave his birth unsettled[1], in hope, like Don Quixote, that
the historian of his actions might find him some illustrious alliance.

He is supposed to have fallen, by his father's death, into the hands of
his uncle, a vintner[2], near Charing-cross, who sent him for some time
to Dr. Busby, at Westminster; but, not intending to give him any
education beyond that of the school, took him, when he was well advanced
in literature, to his own house, where the earl of Dorset, celebrated
for patronage of genius, found him by chance, as Burnet relates, reading
Horace, and was so well pleased with his proficiency, that he undertook
the care and cost of his academical education.

He entered his name in St. John's college, at Cambridge, in 1682, in his
eighteenth year; and it may be reasonably supposed that he was
distinguished among his contemporaries. He became a bachelor, as is
usual, in four years[3]; and two years afterwards wrote the poem on the
Deity, which stands first in his volume.

It is the established practice of that college, to send every year to
the earl of Exeter some poems upon sacred subjects, in acknowledgment of
a benefaction enjoyed by them from the bounty of his ancestor. On this
occasion were those verses written, which, though nothing is said of
their success, seem to have recommended him to some notice; for his
praise of the countess's musick, and his lines on the famous picture of
Seneca, afford reason for imagining that he was more or less conversant
with that family.

The same year, 1688, he published the City Mouse and Country Mouse, to
ridicule Dryden's Hind and Panther, in conjunction with Mr. Montague.
There is a story[4] of great pain suffered, and of tears shed, on this
occasion, by Dryden, who thought it hard that "an old man should be so
treated by those to whom he had always been civil. " By tales like these
is the envy, raised by superiour abilities, every day gratified: when
they are attacked, every one hopes to see them humbled; what is hoped is
readily believed; and what is believed is confidently told. Dryden had
been more accustomed to hostilities, than that such enemies should break
his quiet; and if we can suppose him vexed, it would be hard to deny him
sense enough to conceal his uneasiness.

The City Mouse and Country Mouse procured its authors more solid
advantages than the pleasure of fretting Dryden; for they were both
speedily preferred. Montague, indeed, obtained the first notice, with
some degree of discontent, as it seems, in Prior, who, probably, knew
that his own part of the performance was the best. He had not, however,
much reason to complain; for he came to London, and obtained such
notice, that, in 1691, he was sent to the congress at the Hague as
secretary to the embassy. In this assembly of princes and nobles, to
which Europe has, perhaps, scarcely seen any thing equal, was formed
the grand alliance against Lewis, which, at last, did not produce
effects proportionate to the magnificence of the transaction.

The conduct of Prior, in this splendid initiation into publick business,
was so pleasing to king William, that he made him one of the gentlemen
of his bedchamber; and he is supposed to have passed some of the next
years in the quiet cultivation of literature and poetry.

The death of queen Mary, in 1695, produced a subject for all the
writers; perhaps no funeral was ever so poetically attended. Dryden,
indeed, as a man discountenanced and deprived, was silent; but scarcely
any other maker of verses omitted to bring his tribute of tuneful
sorrow. An emulation of elegy was universal. Maria's praise was not
confined to the English language, but fills a great part of the Musæ
Anglicanæ.

Prior, who was both a poet and a courtier, was too diligent to miss this
opportunity of respect. He wrote a long ode, which was presented to the
king, by whom it was not likely to be ever read.

In two years he was secretary to another embassy at the treaty of
Ryswick, in 1697[5]; and next year had the same office at the court of
France, where he is said to have been considered with great distinction.

As he was one day surveying the apartments at Versailles, being shown
the victories of Lewis, painted by Le Brun, and asked whether the king
of England's palace had any such decorations: "The monuments of my
master's actions," said he, "are to be seen every where but in his own
house. " The pictures of Le Brun are not only in themselves sufficiently
ostentatious, but were explained by inscriptions so arrogant, that
Boileau and Racine thought it necessary to make them more simple.

He was, in the following year, at Loo with the king; from whom, after a
long audience, he carried orders to England, and upon his arrival became
under-secretary of state in the earl of Jersey's office; a post which he
did not retain long, because Jersey was removed; but he was soon made
commissioner of trade.

This year, 1700, produced one of his longest and most splendid
compositions, the Carmen Seculare, in which he exhausts all his powers
of celebration. I mean not to accuse him of flattery; he probably
thought all that he writ, and retained as much veracity as can be
properly exacted from a poet professedly encomiastick. King William
supplied copious materials for either verse or prose. His whole life had
been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent qualities of
steady resolution and personal courage. He was really, in Prior's mind,
what he represents him in his verses; he considered him as a hero, and
was accustomed to say, that he praised others in compliance with the
fashion, but that in celebrating king William he followed his
inclination. To Prior gratitude would dictate praise, which reason would
not refuse.

Among the advantages to arise from the future years of William's reign,
he mentions a society for useful arts, and, among them,

Some that with care true eloquence shall teach,
And to just idioms fix our doubtful speech;
That from our writers distant realms may know
The thanks we to our monarch owe,
And schools profess our tongue through ev'ry land,
That has invok'd his aid, or bless'd his hand.

Tickell, in his Prospect of Peace, has the same hope of a new academy:

In happy chains our daring language bound,
Shall sport no more in arbitrary sound.

Whether the similitude of those passages which exhibit the same thought,
on the same occasion, proceeded from accident or imitation, is not easy
to determine. Tickell might have been impressed with his expectation by
Swift's Proposal for ascertaining the English Language, then lately
published.

In the parliament that met in 1701, he was chosen representative of East
Grinstead. Perhaps it was about this time that he changed his party; for
he voted for the impeachment of those lords who had persuaded the king
to the partition-treaty, a treaty in which he had himself been
ministerially employed.

A great part of queen Anne's reign was a time of war, in which there was
little employment for negotiators, and Prior had, therefore, leisure to
make or to polish verses. When the battle of Blenheim called forth all
the versemen, Prior, among the rest, took care to show his delight in
the increasing honour of his country, by an epistle to Boileau.

He published, soon afterwards, a volume of poems, with the encomiastick
character of his deceased patron, the duke of Dorset[6]: it began with
the College Exercise, and ended with the Nut-brown Maid.

The battle of Ramilles soon afterwards, in 1706, excited him to another
effort of poetry. On this occasion he had fewer or less formidable
rivals; and it would be not easy to name any other composition produced
by that event which is now remembered.

Everything has its day. Through the reigns of William and Anne no
prosperous event passed undignified by poetry. In the last war, when
France was disgraced and overpowered in every quarter of the globe, when
Spain, coming to her assistance, only shared her calamities, and the
name of an Englishman was reverenced through Europe, no poet was heard
amidst the general acclamation; the fame of our counsellors and heroes
was entrusted to the Gazetteer.

The nation, in time, grew weary of the war, and the queen grew weary of
her ministers. The war was burdensome, and the ministers were insolent.
Harley and his friends began to hope that they might, by driving the
whigs from court and from power, gratify, at once, the queen and the
people. There was now a call for writers, who might convey intelligence
of past abuses, and show the waste of publick money, the unreasonable
conduct of the allies, the avarice of generals, the tyranny of minions,
and the general danger of approaching ruin.

For this purpose a paper, called the Examiner, was periodically
published, written, as it happened, by any wit of the party, and
sometimes, as is said, by Mrs. Manley. Some are owned by Swift; and one,
in ridicule of Garth's verses to Godolphin upon the loss of his place,
was written by Prior, and answered by Addison, who appears to have known
the author either by conjecture or intelligence.

The tories, who were now in power, were in haste to end the war; and
Prior, being recalled, 1710, to his former employment of making
treaties, was sent, July, 1711, privately to Paris with propositions of
peace. He was remembered at the French court; and, returning in about a
month, brought with him the abbé Gaultier, and M. Mesnager, a minister
from France, invested with full powers.

This transaction not being avowed, Mackay, the master of the Dover
packet-boat, either zealously or officiously, seized Prior and his
associates at Canterbury. It is easily supposed that they were soon
released.

The negotiation was begun at Prior's house, where the queen's ministers
met Mesnager, September 20,1711, and entered privately upon the great
business. The importance of Prior appears from the mention made of him
by St. John in his letter to the queen.

"My lord treasurer moved, and all my lords were of the same opinion,
that Mr. Prior should be added to those who are empowered to sign; the
reason for which is, because he, having personally treated with monsieur
de Torcy, is the best witness we can produce of the sense in which the
general preliminary engagements are entered into: besides which, as he
is the best versed in matters of trade of all your majesty's servants
who have been trusted in this secret, if you shall think fit to employ
him in the future treaty of commerce, it will be of consequence that he
has been a party concerned in concluding that convention, which must be
the rule of this treaty. "

The assembly of this important night was, in some degree, clandestine,
the design of treating not being yet openly declared, and, when the
whigs returned to power, was aggravated to a charge of high treason;
though, as Prior remarks in his imperfect answer to the report of the
committee of secrecy, no treaty ever was made without private interviews
and preliminary discussions.

My business is not the history of the peace, but the life of Prior. The
conferences began at Utrecht on the 1st of January, 1711-12, and the
English plenipotentiaries arrived on the 15th. The ministers of the
different potentates conferred and conferred; but the peace advanced so
slowly that speedier methods were found necessary; and Bolingbroke was
sent to Paris to adjust differences with less formality; Prior either
accompanied him or followed him, and, after his departure, had the
appointments and authority of an ambassador, though no publick
character.

By some mistake of the queen's orders, the court of France had been
disgusted; and Bolingbroke says in his letter, "Dear Mat, hide the
nakedness of thy country, and give the best turn thy fertile brain will
furnish thee with to the blunders of thy countrymen, who are not much
better politicians than the French are poets. "

Soon after, the duke of Shrewsbury went on a formal embassy to Paris. It
is related by Boyer, that the intention was to have joined Prior in the
same commission, but that Shrewsbury refused to be associated with a man
so meanly born. Prior, therefore, continued to act without a title, till
the duke returned, next year, to England, and then he assumed the style
and dignity of ambassador.

But, while he continued in appearance a private man, he was treated with
confidence by Lewis, who sent him with a letter to the queen, written in
favour of the elector of Bavaria. "I shall expect," says he, "with
impatience, the return of Mr. Prior, whose conduct is very agreeable to
me. " And while the duke of Shrewsbury was still at Paris, Bolingbroke
wrote to Prior thus: "Monsieur de Torcy has a confidence in you; make
use of it, once for all, upon this occasion, and convince him
thoroughly, that we must give a different turn to our parliament and our
people, according to their resolution at this crisis. "

Prior's publick dignity and splendour commenced in August, 1713, and
continued till the August following; but I am afraid that, according to
the usual fate of greatness, it was attended with some perplexities and
mortifications. He had not all that is customarily given to ambassadors;
he hints to the queen, in an imperfect poem, that he had no service of
plate; and it appeared, by the debts which he contracted, that his
remittances were not punctually made.

On the 1st of August, 1714, ensued the downfal of the tories, and the
degradation of Prior. He was recalled; but was not able to return, being
detained by the debts which he had found it necessary to contract, and
which were not discharged before March, though his old friend Montague
was now at the head of the treasury.

He returned then as soon as he could, and was welcomed, on the 25th of
March, 1715, by a warrant, but was, however, suffered to live in his own
house, under the custody of the messenger, till he was examined before a
committee of the privy council, of which Mr. Walpole was chairman, and
lord Coningsby, Mr. Stanhope, and Mr. Lechmere, were the principal
interrogators; who, in this examination, of which there is printed an
account not unentertaining, behaved with the boisterousness of men
elated by recent authority. They are represented as asking questions
sometimes vague, sometimes insidious, and writing answers different from
those which they received. Prior, however, seems to have been
overpowered by their turbulence; for he confesses that he signed what,
if he had ever come before a legal judicature, he should have
contradicted or explained away. The oath was administered by Boscawen,
a Middlesex justice, who, at last, was going to write his attestation
on the wrong side of the paper.

They were very industrious to find some charge against Oxford; and asked
Prior, with great earnestness, who was present when the preliminary
articles were talked of or signed at his house? He told them, that
either the earl of Oxford or the duke of Shrewsbury was absent, but he
could not remember which; an answer which perplexed them, because it
supplied no accusation against either. "Could any thing be more absurd,"
says he, "or more inhuman, than to propose to me a question, by the
answering of which I might, according to them, prove myself a traitor?
And notwithstanding their solemn promise, that nothing which I could say
should hurt myself, I had no reason to trust them; for they violated
that promise about five hours after. However, I owned I was there
present. Whether this was wisely done or no, I leave to my friends to
determine. "

When he had signed the paper, he was told by Walpole, that the committee
were not satisfied with his behaviour, nor could give such an account of
it to the commons as might merit favour; and that they now thought a
stricter confinement necessary than to his own house. "Here," says he,
"Boscawen played the moralist, and Coningsby the Christian, but both
very awkwardly. " The messenger, in whose custody he was to be placed,
was then called, and very decently asked by Coningsby, "if his house was
secured by bars and bolts? " The messenger answered, "No," with
astonishment. At which Coningsby very angrily said, "Sir, you must
secure this prisoner; it is for the safety of the nation: if he escape,
you shall answer for it. "

They had already printed their report; and in this examination were
endeavouring to find proofs.

He continued thus confined for some time; and Mr. Walpole, June 10,
1715, moved for an impeachment against him. What made him so acrimonious
does not appear: he was by nature no thirster for blood. Prior was, a
week after, committed to close custody, with orders that "no person
should be admitted to see him without leave from the speaker. "

When, two years after, an act of grace was passed, he was excepted, and
continued still in custody, which he had made less tedious by writing
his Alma. He was, however, soon after discharged.

He had now his liberty, but he had nothing else. Whatever the profit of
his employments might have been, he had always spent it; and, at the age
of fifty-three, was, with all his abilities, in danger of penury, having
yet no solid revenue but from the fellowship of his college, which, when
in his exaltation he was censured for retaining it, he said, he could
live upon at last.

Being, however, generally known and esteemed, he was encouraged to add
other poems to those which he had printed, and to publish them by
subscription. The expedient succeeded by the industry of many friends,
who circulated the proposals[7], and the care of some, who, it is said,
withheld the money from him, lest he should squander it. The price of
the volume was two guineas; the whole collection was four thousand; to
which lord Harley, the son of the earl of Oxford, to whom he had
invariably adhered, added an equal sum for the purchase of Downhall,
which Prior was to enjoy during life, and Harley after his decease.

He had now, what wits and philosophers have often wished, the power of
passing the day in contemplative tranquillity. But it seems that busy
men seldom live long in a state of quiet. It is not unlikely that his
health declined. He complains of deafness; "for," says he, "I took
little care of my ears while I was not sure if my head was my own. "

Of any occurrences in his remaining life I have found no account. In a
letter to Swift, "I have," says he, "treated lady Harriot at Cambridge,
(a fellow of a college treat! ) and spoke verses to her in a gown and
cap! What, the plenipotentiary, so far concerned in the damned peace at
Utrecht! the man that makes up half the volume of terse prose, that
makes up the report of the committee, speaking verses! Sic est, homo
sum. "

He died at Wimpole, a seat of the earl of Oxford, on the 18th of
September, 1721, and was buried in Westminster; where, on a monument,
for which, as the "last piece of human vanity," he left five hundred
pounds, is engraven this epitaph:

Sui temporis historiam meditanti,
Paulatim obrepens febris
Operi simul et vitæ filum abrupit,
Sept. 18, An. Dom. 1721. Ætat. 57.
H. S. E.
Vir eximius
Serenissimis
Regi GULIELMO, reginæque MARIÆ,
In congressione foederatorum
Hagæ anno 1690 celebrata;
Deinde Magnæ Britanniæ legatis;
Tum iis,
Qui anno 1697 pacem RYSWICKI confecerunt;
Tum iis,
Qui apud Gallos annis proximis legationem obierunt;
Eodem etiam anno, 1697, in Hibernia
SECRETARIUS;
Nee non in utroque honorabili consessu
Eorum,
Qui anno 1700 ordinandis commercii negotiis,
Quique anno 1711 dirigendis portorii rebus,
Præsidebant,
COMMISSIONARIUS;
Postremo
Ab ANNA,
Felicissinæ memoriæ regina,
Ad LUDOVICUM XIV. Galliæ regem
Missus anno 1711
De pace stabilienda,
(Pace etiamnum durante
Diuque ut boni jam omnes sperant duratura)
Cum summa potestate legatus;
MATTHÆUS PRIOR, armiger:
Qui
Hos omnes, quibus cumulatus est, titulos
Humanitatis, ingenii, eruditionis laude
Superavit;
Cui enim nascenti faciles arriserant musæ.
Hune puerum schola hie regia perpolivit;
Juvenem in collegio S'ti Johannis
Cantabrigia optimis scientiis instruxit;
Virum denique auxit; et perfecit.
Multa cum viris principibus consuetudo;
Ita natus, ita institutus,
A vatum chioro avelli nunquam potuit,
Sed solebat sæpe rerum civilium gravitatem
Amoeniorum literarum studiis condire:
Et cum omne adeo poetices genus
Haud infeliciter tentaret,
Tum in fabellis concinne lepideque texendis
Mirus artifex
Neminem habuit parem.
Hæc liberalis animi oblectamenta,
Quam nullo illi labore constiterint,
Facile ii perspexere, quibus usus est amici;
Apud quos urbanitatum et leporum plenus
Cum ad rem, quæcunque forte inciderat,
Apte varie copioseque alluderet,
Interea nihil quæsitum, nihil vi expressum
Videbatur,
Sed omnia ultro effluere,
Et quasi jugi e fonte afiatim exuberare,
Ita suos tandem dubios reliquit,
Essetue in scriptis, poeta elegantior,
An in convictu comes jucundior.

Of Prior, eminent as he was, both by his abilities and station, very few
memorials have been left by his contemporaries; the account, therefore,
must now be destitute of his private character and familiar practices.
He lived at a time when the rage of party detected all which it was any
man's interest to hide; and, as little ill is heard of Prior, it is
certain that not much was known. He was not afraid of provoking censure;
for, when he forsook the whigs [8], under whose patronage he first
entered the world, he became a tory, so ardent and determinate, that he
did not willingly consort with men of different opinions. He was one of
the sixteen tories who met weekly, and agreed to address each other by
the title of _brother_; and seems to have adhered, not only by
concurrence of political designs, but by peculiar affection, to the earl
of Oxford and his family. With how much confidence he was trusted has
been already told.

He was, however, in Pope's[9] opinion, fit only to make verses, and less
qualified for business than Addison himself. This was, surely, said
without consideration. Addison, exalted to a high place, was forced into
degradation by the sense of his own incapacity; Prior, who was employed
by men very capable of estimating his value, having been secretary to
one embassy, had, when great abilities were again wanted, the same
office another time; and was, after so much experience of his knowledge
and dexterity, at last sent to transact a negotiation in the highest
degree arduous and important; for which he was qualified, among other
requisites, in the opinion of Bolingbroke, by his influence upon the
French minister, and by skill in questions of commerce above other men.

Of his behaviour in the lighter parts of life, it is too late to get
much intelligence. One of his answers to a boastful Frenchman has been
related; and to an impertinent he made another equally proper. During
his embassy, he sat at the opera by a man, who, in his rapture,
accompanied with his own voice the principal singer. Prior fell to
railing at the performer with all the terms of reproach that he could
collect, till the Frenchman, ceasing from his song, began to expostulate
with him for his harsh censure of a man who was confessedly the ornament
of the stage. "I know all that," says the ambassador, "mais il chante si
haut, que je ne saurais vous entendre. "

In a gay French company, where every one sang a little song or stanza,
of which the burden was, "Bannissons la mélancolie;" when it came to his
turn to sing, after the performance of a young lady that sat next him,
he produced these extemporary lines:

Mais cette voix, et ces beaux yeux,
Font Cupidon trop dangereux;
Et je suis triste quand je crie,
Bannissons la mélancolie.

Tradition represents him as willing to descend from the dignity of the
poet and the statesman to the low delights of mean company. His Chloe,
probably, was sometimes ideal; but the woman with whom he cohabited was
a despicable drab[10] of the lowest species. One of his wenches, perhaps
Chloe, while he was absent from his house, stole his plate, and ran
away; as was related by a woman who had been his servant. Of this
propensity to sordid converse I have seen an account so seriously
ridiculous, that it seems to deserve insertion[11].

I have been assured that Prior, after having spent the evening with
Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift, would go and smoke a pipe, and
drink a bottle of ale, with a common soldier and his wife, in Long-acre,
before he went to bed; not from any remains of the lowness of his
original, as one said, but, I suppose, that his faculties,

"Strain'd to the height,
In that celestial colloquy sublime,
Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repair. "

Poor Prior! why was he so _strained_, and in such _want_ of _repair_,
after a conversation with men, not, in the opinion of the world, much
wiser than himself? But such are the conceits of speculatists, who
_strain_ their _faculties_ to find in a mine what lies upon the surface.

His opinions, so far as the means of judging are left us, seem to have
been right; but his life was, it seems, irregular, negligent, and
sensual.

* * * * *

Prior has written with great variety, and his variety has made him
popular. He has tried all styles, from the grotesque to the solemn, and
has not so failed in any as to incur derision or disgrace.

His works may be distinctly considered, as comprising Tales,
Love-verses, Occasional Poems, Alma, and Solomon.

His Tales have obtained general approbation, being written with great
familiarity and great sprightliness; the language is easy, but seldom
gross, and the numbers smooth without appearance of care. Of these tales
there are only four. The Ladle; which is introduced by a preface,
neither necessary nor pleasing, neither grave nor merry. Paulo Purganti;
which has likewise a preface, but of more value than the tale. Hans
Carvel, not over-decent; and Protogenes and Apelles, an old story,
mingled, by an affectation not disagreeable, with modern images. The
Young Gentleman in Love has hardly a just claim to the title of a tale.
I know not whether he be the original author of any tale which he has
given us. The adventure of Hans Carvel has passed through many
successions of merry wits; for it is to be found in Ariosto's satires,
and is, perhaps, yet older[12]. But the merit of such stories is the art
of telling them.

In his amorous effusions he is less happy; for they are not dictated by
nature or by passion, and have neither gallantry nor tenderness. They
have the coldness of Cowley, without his wit, the dull exercises of a
skilful versifier, resolved, at all adventures, to write something about
Chloe, and trying to be amorous by dint of study. His fictions,
therefore, are mythological. Venus, after the example of the Greek
epigram, asks when she was seen _naked and bathing_. Then Cupid is
_mistaken_; then Cupid is _disarmed_; then he loses his darts to
Ganymede; then Jupiter sends him a summons by Mercury. Then Chloe goes
a-hunting, with _an ivory quiver graceful at her side_; Diana mistakes
her for one of her nymphs, and Cupid laughs at the blunder. All this is,
surely, despicable; and even when he tries to act the lover, without the
help of gods or goddesses, his thoughts are unaffecting or remote. He
talks not "like a man of this world. "

The greatest of all his amorous essays is Henry and Emma; a dull and
tedious dialogue, which excites neither esteem for the man, nor
tenderness for the woman. The example of Emma, who resolves to follow an
outlawed murderer wherever fear and guilt shall drive him, deserves no
imitation; and the experiment by which Henry tries the lady's constancy,
is such as must end either in infamy to her, or in disappointment to
himself.

His occasional poems necessarily lost part of their value, as their
occasions, being less remembered, raised less emotion. Some of them,
however, are preserved by their inherent excellence. The burlesque of
Boileau's Ode on Namur has, in some parts, such airiness and levity as
will always procure it readers, even among those who cannot compare it
with the original. The epistle to Boileau is not so happy. The poems to
the king are now perused only by young students, who read merely that
they may learn to write; and of the Carmen Seculare, I cannot but
suspect that I might praise or censure it by caprice, without danger of
detection; for who can be supposed to have laboured through it? Yet the
time has been when this neglected work was so popular, that it was
translated into Latin by no common master.

His poem on the battle of Ramilles is necessarily tedious by the form of
the stanza: an uniform mass of ten lines, thirty-five times repeated,
inconsequential and slightly connected, must weary both the ear and the
understanding. His imitation of Spenser, which consists principally in
_I ween and I weet_, without exclusion of later modes of speech, makes
his poem neither ancient nor modern. His mention of Mars and Bellona,
and his comparison of Marlborough to the eagle that bears the thunder of
Jupiter, are all puerile and unaffecting; and yet more despicable is the
long tale told by Lewis in his despair, of Brute and Troynovante, and
the teeth of Cadmus, with his similes of the raven and eagle, and wolf
and lion. By the help of such easy fictions, and vulgar topicks, without
acquaintance with life, and without knowledge of art or nature, a poem
of any length, cold and lifeless like this, may be easily written on any
subject.

In his epilogues to Phædra and to Lucius he is very happily facetious;
but in the prologue before the queen, the pedant has found his way, with
Minerva, Perseus, and Andromeda.

His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others, sometimes
elegant, sometimes trifling, and sometimes dull; amongst the best are
the Chamelion, and the epitaph on John and Joan.

Scarcely any one of our poets has written so much, and translated so
little: the version of Callimachus is sufficiently licentious; the
paraphrase on St. Paul's Exhortation to Charity is eminently beautiful.

Alma is written in professed imitation of Hudibras, and has, at least,
one accidental resemblance: Hudibras wants a plan, because it is left
imperfect; Alma is imperfect, because it seems never to have had a plan.
Prior appears not to have proposed to himself any drift or design, but
to have written the casual dictates of the present moment.
What Horace said when he imitated Lucilius, might be said of Butler by
Prior; his numbers were not smooth or neat. Prior excelled him in
versification; but he was, like Horace, "inventore minor;" he had not
Butler's exuberance of matter and variety of illustration. The spangles
of wit which he could afford, he know how to polish; but he wanted the
bullion of his master. Butler pours out a negligent profusion, certain
of the weight, but careless of the stamp. Prior has comparatively
little, but with that little he makes a fine show. Alma has many
admirers, and was the only piece among Prior's works of which Pope said
that he should wish to be the author.

Solomon is the work to which he entrusted the protection of his name,
and which he expected succeeding ages to regard with veneration. His
affection was, natural; it had undoubtedly been written with great
labour; and who is willing to think that he has been labouring in vain?
He had infused into it much knowledge and much thought; had often
polished it to elegance, often dignified it with splendour, and
sometimes heightened it to sublimity: he perceived in it many
excellencies, and did not discover that it wanted that without which all
others are of small avail, the power of engaging attention and alluring
curiosity.

Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negligences or errours are
single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole; other faults are
censured and forgotten, but the power of tediousness propagates itself.
He that is weary the first hour, is more weary the second; as bodies
forced into motion contrary to their tendency, pass more and more slowly
through every successive interval of space.

Unhappily this pernicious failure is that which an author is least able
to discover. We are seldom tiresome to ourselves; and the act of
composition fills and delights the mind with change of language and
succession of images; every couplet, when produced, is new, and novelty
is the great source of pleasure. Perhaps no man ever thought a line
superfluous when he first wrote it, or contracted his work till his
ebullitions of invention had subsided. And even if he should control his
desire of immediate renown, and keep his work nine years unpublished, he
will be still the author, and still in danger of deceiving himself: and
if he consults his friends, he will, probably, find men who have more
kindness than judgment, or more fear to offend, than desire to instruct.

The tediousness of this poem proceeds not from the uniformity of the
subject, for it is sufficiently diversified, but from the continued
tenour of the narration; in which Solomon relates the successive
vicissitudes of his own mind, without the intervention of any other
speaker, or the mention of any other agent, unless it be Abra; the
reader is only to learn what he thought, and to be told that he thought
wrong. The event of every experiment is foreseen, and, therefore, the
process is not much regarded.

Yet the work is far from deserving to be neglected. He that shall peruse
it will be able to mark many passages, to which he may recur for
instruction or delight; many from which the poet may learn to write, and
the philosopher to reason.

If Prior's poetry be generally considered, his praise will be that of
correctness and industry, rather than of compass of comprehension, or
activity of fancy. He never made any effort of invention: his greater
pieces are only tissues of common thoughts; and his smaller, which
consist of light images, or single conceits, are not always his own. I
have traced him among the French epigrammatists, and have been informed
that he poached for prey among obscure authors. The Thief and the
Cordelier is, I suppose, generally considered as an original production;
with how much justice this epigram may tell, which was written by
Georgius Sabinus, a poet now little known or read, though once the
friend of Luther and Melancthon.

De Sacerdote Furem consolante.

Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus euntem
Huc ubi dat sontes carnificina neci,
Ne sis moestus, ait; summi conviva Tonantis
Jam cum coelitibus (si modo credis) eris.
Ille gemens, si vera mihi solatia praebes,
Hospes apud superos sis meus oro, refert.
Sacrificus contra; mihi non convivia fas est
Ducere, jejunans hac edo luce nihil.

What he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his judgment. His
diligence has justly placed him amongst the most correct of the English
poets; and he was one of the first that resolutely endeavoured at
correctness. He never sacrifices accuracy to haste, nor indulges
himself in contemptuous negligence, or impatient idleness; he has no
careless lines, or entangled sentiments; his words are nicely selected,
and his thoughts fully expanded. If this part of his character suffers
any abatement, it must be from the disproportion of his rhymes, which
have not always sufficient consonance, and from the admission of broken
lines into his Solomon; but, perhaps, he thought, like Cowley, that
hemistichs ought to be admitted into heroick poetry[13].

He had, apparently, such rectitude of judgment as secured him from every
thing that approached to the ridiculous or absurd; but as laws operate
in civil agency not to the excitement of virtue, but the repression of
wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect can hinder
faults, but not produce excellence. Prior is never low, nor very often
sublime. It is said by Longinus of Euripides, that he forces himself
sometimes into grandeur by violence of effort, as the lion kindles his
fury by the lashes of his own tail. Whatever Prior obtains above
mediocrity seems the effort of struggle and of toil. He has many
vigorous but few happy lines; he has every thing by purchase, and
nothing by gift; he had no "nightly visitations" of the muse, no
infusions of sentiment or felicities of fancy.

His diction, however, is more his own than that of any among the
successors of Dryden; he borrows no lucky turns, or commodious modes of
language, from his predecessors. His phrases are original, but they are
sometimes harsh; as he inherited no elegancies, none has he bequeathed.
His expression has every mark of laborious study; the line seldom seems
to have been formed at once; the words did not come till they were
called, and were then put by constraint into their places, where they do
their duty, but do it sullenly. In his greater compositions there may be
found more rigid stateliness than graceful dignity.

Of versification he was not negligent: what he received from Dryden he
did not lose; neither did he increase the difficulty of writing by
unnecessary severity, but uses triplets and alexandrines without
scruple. In his preface to Solomon he proposes some improvements, by
extending the sense from one couplet to another, with variety of pauses.
This he has attempted, but without success; his interrupted lines are
unpleasing, and his sense, as less distinct is less striking.

He has altered the stanza of Spenser, as a house is altered by building
another in its place of a different form. With how little resemblance he
has formed his new stanza to that of his master, these specimens will
show:

SPENSER.

She flying fast from heaven's hated face,
And from the world that her discover'd wide,
Fled to the wasteful wilderness apace,
From living eyes her open shame to hide,
And lurk'd in rocks and caves long unespy'd.
But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair,
Did in that castle afterwards abide,
To rest themselves, and weary powers repair,
Where store they found of all, that dainty was and rare.

PRIOR.

To the close rock the frighted raven flies,
Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air:
The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies,
When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near.
Ill-starr'd did we our forts and lines forsake,
To dare our British foes to open fight:
Our conquest we by stratagem should make;
Our triumph had been founded in our flight.
'Tis ours, by craft and by surprise to gain:
'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the plain[14].

By this new structure of his lines he has avoided difficulties; nor am I
sure that he has lost any of the power of pleasing; but he no longer
imitates Spenser.

Some of his poems are written without regularity of measure; for, when
he commenced poet, we had not recovered from our Pindarick infatuation;
but he probably lived to be convinced, that the essence of verse is
order and consonance.

His numbers are such as mere diligence may attain; they seldom offend
the ear, and seldom sooth it; they commonly want airiness, lightness,
and facility; what is smooth, is not soft. His verses always roll, but
they seldom flow.

A survey of the life and writings of Prior may exemplify a sentence
which he doubtless understood well, when he read Horace at his uncle's;
"the vessel long retains the scent which it first receives. " In his
private relaxation he revived the tavern, and in his amorous pedantry he
exhibited the college. But on higher occasions and nobler subjects, when
habit was overpowered by the necessity of reflection, he wanted not
wisdom as a statesman, nor elegance as a poet.

-----

[Footnote 1: The difficulty of settling Prior's birthplace is great. In
the register of his college he is called, at his admission by the
president, Matthew Prior, of Winburn, in Middlesex; by himself, next
day, Matthew Prior, of Dorsetshire, in which county, not in Middlesex,
Winborn, or Winborne, as it stands in the Villare, is found. When he
stood candidate for his fellowship, five years afterwards, he was
registered again by himself as of Middlesex. The last record ought to be
preferred, because it was made upon oath. It is observable, that, as a
native of Winborne, he is styled filius Georgii Prior, generosi; not
consistently with the common account of the meanness of his birth. Dr.
J. ]

[Footnote 2: Samuel Prior kept the Rummer tavern near Charing-cross, in
1685. The annual feast of the nobility and gentry living in the parish
of St. Martin in the Fields was held at his house, Oct. 14, that year.
N. ]

[Footnote 3: He was admitted to his bachelor's degree in 1686; and to
his master's, by mandate, in 1700. N. ]

[Footnote 4: Spence. ]

[Footnote 5: He received, in September, 1697, a present of two hundred
guineas from the lords justices, for his trouble in bringing over the
treaty of peace. N. ]

[Footnote 6: It should be the earl of Dorset. ]

[Footnote 7: Swift obtained many subscriptions for him in Ireland. II. ]

[Footnote: 8 Spence. ]

[Footnote: 9 Spence. ]

[Footnote 10: Spence; and see Gent. Mag. vol l vii. p. 1039. ]

[Footnote 11: Richardsoniana. ]

[Footnote 12: It is to be found in Poggii Facetiae. J. B. ]

[Footnote 13: The same thought is found in one of Owen's epigrams,
lib. i. epig. 123. and in Poggii Facetiae. J. B. ]

[Footnote 14: Prior was not the first inventor of this stanza; for
excepting the alexandrine close, it is to be found in Churchyard's
Worthies of Wales. See his introduction for Brecknockshire. J. B. ]




CONGREVE.


William Congreve descended from a family in Staffordshire, of so great
antiquity that it claims a place among the few that extend their line
beyond the Norman conquest; and was the son of William Congreve, second
son of Richard Congreve, of Congreve and Stratton. He visited, once, at
least, the residence of his ancestors; and, I believe, more places than
one are still shown, in groves and gardens, where he is related to have
written his Old Bachelor.

Neither the time nor place of his birth are certainly known: if the
inscription upon his monument be true, he was born in 1672[15]. For the
place; it was said by himself, that he owed his nativity to England, and
by every body else that he was born in Ireland. Southern mentioned him
with sharp censure, as a man that meanly disowned his native country.
The biographers assign his nativity to Bardsa, near Leeds, in Yorkshire,
from the account given by himself, as they suppose, to Jacob.

To doubt whether a man of eminence has told the truth about his own
birth, is, in appearance, to be very deficient in candour; yet nobody
can live long without knowing that falsehoods of convenience or vanity,
falsehoods from which no evil immediately visible ensues, except the
general degradation of human testimony, are very lightly uttered, and
once uttered are sullenly supported. Boileau, who desired to be thought
a rigorous and steady moralist, having told a petty lie to Lewis the
fourteenth, continued it afterwards by false dates; thinking himself
obliged, _in honour_, says his admirer, to maintain what, when he said
it, was so well received.

Wherever Congreve was born, he was educated first at Kilkenny, and
afterwards at Dublin, his father having some military employment that
stationed him in Ireland: but, after having passed through the usual
preparatory studies, as may be reasonably supposed, with great celerity
and success, his father thought it proper to assign him a profession, by
which something might be gotten; and, about the time of the revolution,
sent him, at the age of sixteen, to study law in the Middle Temple,
where he lived for several years, but with very little attention to
statutes or reports.

His disposition to become an author appeared very early, as he very
early felt that force of imagination, and possessed that copiousness of
sentiment, by which intellectual pleasure can be given. His first
performance was a novel, called Incognita, or Love and Duty reconciled:
it is praised by the biographers, who quote some part of the preface,
that is indeed, for such a time of life, uncommonly judicious. I would
rather praise it than read it.

His first dramatick labour was the Old Bachelor; of which he says, in
his defence against Collier, "that comedy was written, as several know,
some years before it was acted. When I wrote it, I had little thoughts
of the stage; but did it, to amuse myself in a slow recovery from a fit
of sickness. Afterwards, through my indiscretion, it was seen, and in
some little time more it was acted; and I, through the remainder of my
indiscretion, suffered myself to be drawn into the prosecution of a
difficult and thankless study, and to be involved in a perpetual war
with knaves and fools. "

There seems to be a strange affectation in authors of appearing to have
done every thing by chance. The Old Bachelor was written for amusement,
in the languor of convalescence. Yet it is apparently composed with
great elaborateness of dialogue, and incessant ambition of wit. The age
of the writer considered, it is, indeed, a very wonderful performance;
for, whenever written, it was acted, 1693, when he was not more than
twenty-one years old; and was then recommended by Mr. Dryden, Mr.
Southern, and Mr. Maynwaring. Dryden said, that he, never had seen such
a first play; but they found it deficient in some things requisite to
the success of its exhibition, and by their greater experience fitted it
for the stage.

Southern used to relate of one comedy, probably of this, that, when
Congreve read it to the players, he pronounced it so wretchedly that
they had almost rejected it; but they were afterwards so well persuaded
of its excellence, that, for half a year before it was acted, the
manager allowed its author the privilege of the house.

Few plays have ever been so beneficial to the writer; for it procured
him the patronage of Halifax, who immediately made him one of the
commissioners for licensing coaches, and soon after gave him a place in
the pipe-office, and another in the customs, of six hundred pounds a
year. Congreve's conversation must surely have been, at least, equally
pleasing with his writings.

Such a comedy, written at such an age, requires some consideration. As
the lighter species of dramatick poetry professes the imitation of
common life, of real manners, and daily incidents, it apparently
presupposes a familiar knowledge of many characters, and exact
observation of the passing world; the difficulty, therefore, is to
conceive how this knowledge can be obtained by a boy.

But if the Old Bachelor be more nearly examined, it will be found to be
one of those comedies which may be made by a mind vigorous and acute,
and furnished with comick characters by the perusal of other poets,
without much actual commerce with mankind. The dialogue is one constant
reciprocation of conceits, or clash of wit, in which nothing flows
necessarily from the occasion, or is dictated by nature. The characters,
both of men and women, are either fictitious and artificial, as those of
Heartwell, and the ladies; or easy and common, as Wittol, a tam idiot;
Bluff, a swaggering coward; and Fondlewife, a jealous puritan; and the
catastrophe arises from a mistake not very probably produced, by
marrying a woman in a mask.

Yet this gay comedy, when all these deductions are made, will still
remain the work of very powerful and fertile faculties; the dialogue is
quick and sparkling, the incidents such as seize the attention, and the
wit so exuberant, that it "o'er-informs its tenement. "

Next year he gave another specimen of his abilities in the Double
Dealer, which was not received with equal kindness. He writes to his
patron, the lord Halifax, a dedication, in which he endeavours to
reconcile the reader to that which found few friends among the audience.
These apologies are always useless: "de gustibus non est disputandum;"
men may be convinced, but they cannot be pleased, against their will.
But, though taste is obstinate, it is very variable; and time often
prevails when arguments have failed.

Queen Mary conferred upon both those plays the honour of her presence;
and when she died, soon after, Congreve testified his gratitude by a
despicable effusion of elegiack pastoral; a composition in which all is
unnatural, and yet nothing is new.

In another year, 1695, his prolifick pen produced Love for Love; a
comedy of nearer alliance to life, and exhibiting more real manners than
either of the former. The character of Foresight was then common. Dryden
calculated nativities; both Cromwell and king William had their lucky
days; and Shaftesbury himself, though he had no religion, was said to
regard predictions. The Sailor is not accounted very natural, but he is
very pleasant.

With this play was opened the new theatre, under the direction of
Betterton the tragedian; where he exhibited, two years afterwards, 1697,
the Mourning Bride, a tragedy, so written as to show him sufficiently
qualified for either kind of dramatick poetry.

In this play, of which, when he afterwards revised it, he reduced the
versification to greater regularity, there is more bustle than
sentiment; the plot is busy and intricate, and the events take hold on
the attention; but, except a very few passages, we are rather amused
with noise, and perplexed with stratagem, than entertained with any true
delineation of natural characters. This, however, was received with more
benevolence than any other of his works, and still continues to be acted
and applauded.

But whatever objections may be made, either to his comick or tragick
excellence, they are lost, at once, in the blaze of admiration, when it
is remembered that he had produced these four plays before he had passed
his twenty-fifth year; before other men, even such as are some time to
shine in eminence, have passed their probation of literature, or presume
to hope for any other notice than such as is bestowed on diligence and
inquiry. Among all the efforts of early genius which literary history
records, I doubt whether any one can be produced that more surpasses the
common limits of nature than the plays of Congreve.

About this time began the long-continued controversy between Collier and
the poets. In the reign of Charles the first the puritans had raised a
violent clamour against the drama, which they considered as an
entertainment not lawful to christians, an opinion held by them in
common with the church of Rome; and Prynne published Histriomastix, a
huge volume, in which stageplays were censured. The outrages and crimes
of the puritans brought afterwards their whole system of doctrine into
disrepute, and from the restoration the poets and the players were left
at quiet; for to have molested them would have had the appearance of
tendency to puritanical malignity.

This danger, however, was worn away by time; and Collier, a fierce and
implacable nonjuror, knew that an attack upon the theatre would never
make him suspected for a puritan; he, therefore, 1698, published a short
View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage, I believe
with no other motive than religious zeal and honest indignation. He was
formed for a controvertist; with sufficient learning; with diction
vehement and pointed, though often vulgar and incorrect; with
unconquerable pertinacity; with wit, in the highest degree, keen and
sarcastick; and with all those powers exalted and invigorated by just
confidence in his cause.

Thus qualified, and thus incited, he walked out to battle, and assailed,
at once, most of the living writers, from Dryden to d'Urfey. His onset
was violent: those passages, which while they stood single had passed
with little notice, when they were accumulated and exposed together,
excited horrour; the wise and the pious caught the alarm; and the nation
wondered why it had so long suffered irreligion and licentiousness to be
openly taught at the publick charge.

Nothing now remained for the poets but to resist or fly. Dryden's
conscience, or his prudence, angry as he was, withheld him from the
conflict; Congreve and Vanbrugh attempted answers. Congreve, a very
young man, elated with success, and impatient of censure, assumed an air
of confidence and security. His chief artifice of controversy is to
retort upon his adversary his own words: he is very angry, and, hoping
to conquer Collier with his own weapons, allows himself in the use of
every term of contumely and contempt; but he has the sword without the
arm of Scanderbeg; he has his antagonist's coarseness, but not his
strength. Collier replied; for contest was his delight: he was not to be
frighted from his purpose or his prey.

The cause of Congreve was not tenable: whatever glosses he might use for
the defence or palliation of single passages, the general tenour and
tendency of his plays must always be condemned. It is acknowledged, with
universal conviction, that the perusal of his works will make no man
better; and that their ultimate effect is to represent pleasure in
alliance with vice, and to relax those obligations by which life ought
to be regulated.

The stage found other advocates, and the dispute was protracted through
ten years; but, at last, comedy grew more modest, and Collier lived to
see the reward of his labour in the reformation of the theatre.

Of the powers by which this important victory was achieved, a quotation
from Love for Love, and the remark upon it, may afford a specimen:

_Sir Samps_. "Sampson's a very good name; for your Sampsons were strong
dogs from the beginning. "

_Angel_. "Have a care---If you remember, the strongest Sampson of your
name pull'd an old house over his head at last. "

"Here you have the sacred history burlesqued; and Sampson once more
brought into the house of Dagon, to make sport for the Philistines! "

Congreve's last play was the Way of the World; which, though as he hints
in his dedication it was written with great labour and much thought, was
received with so little favour, that, being in a high degree offended
and disgusted, he resolved to commit his quiet and his fame no more to
the caprices of an audience.

From this time his life ceased to be publick; he lived for himself and
for his friends; and, among his friends, was able to name every man of
his time whom wit and elegance had raised to reputation. It may be,
therefore, reasonably supposed that his manners were polite, and his
conversation pleasing.

He seems not to have taken much pleasure in writing, as he contributed
nothing to the Spectator, and only one paper to the Tatler, though
published by men with whom he might be supposed willing to associate;
and though he lived many years after the publication of his
Miscellaneous Poems, yet he added nothing to them, but lived on in
literary indolence; engaged in no controversy, contending with no rival,
neither soliciting flattery by publick commendations, nor provoking
enmity by malignant criticism, but passing his time among the great and
splendid, in the placid enjoyment of his fame and fortune.

Having owed his fortune to Halifax, he continued always of his patron's
party, but, as it seems, without violence or acrimony; and his firmness
was naturally esteemed, as his abilities were reverenced. His security,
therefore, was never violated; and when, upon the extrusion of the
whigs, some intercession was used lest Congreve should be displaced, the
earl of Oxford made this answer:

"Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora Poeni,
Nec tam aversus equos Tyria sol jungit ab urbe. "

He that was thus honoured by the adverse party might naturally expect
to be advanced when his friends returned to power; and he was,
accordingly, made secretary for the island of Jamaica[16], a place, I
suppose, without trust or care, but which, with his post in the customs,
is said to have afforded him twelve hundred pounds a year.

His honours were yet far greater than his profits. Every writer
mentioned him with respect; and, among other testimonies to his merit,
Steele made him the patron of his Miscellany, and Pope inscribed to him
his translation of the Iliad.

But he treated the muses with ingratitude; for, having long conversed
familiarly with the great, he wished to be considered rather as a man of
fashion than of wit; and, when he received a visit from Voltaire,
disgusted him by the despicable foppery of desiring to be considered not
as an author but a gentleman; to which the Frenchman replied, "that if
he had been only a gentleman, he should not have come to visit him. "

In his retirement he may be supposed to have applied himself to books;
for he discovers more literature than the poets have commonly attained.
But his studies were, in his latter days, obstructed by cataracts in his
eyes, which, at last, terminated in blindness. This melancholy state was
aggravated by the gout, for which he sought relief by a journey to Bath;
but, being overturned in his chariot, complained from that time of a
pain in his side, and died, at his house in Surrey-street, in the
Strand, Jan. 29[17], 1728-9. Having lain in state in the
Jerusalem-chamber, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a monument
is erected to his memory by Henrietta, duchess of Marlborough, to whom,
for reasons either not known or not mentioned, he bequeathed a legacy of
about ten thousand pounds; the accumulation of attentive parsimony,
which, though to her superfluous and useless, might have given great
assistance to the ancient family from which he descended, at that time,
by the imprudence of his relation, reduced to difficulties and distress.

* * * * *

Congreve has merit of the highest kind; he is an original writer, who
borrowed neither the models of his plot nor the manner of his dialogue.
Of his plays I cannot speak distinctly; for, since I inspected them many
years have passed; but what remains upon my memory is, that his
characters are commonly fictitious and artificial, with very little of
nature, and not much of life. He formed a peculiar idea of comick
excellence, which he supposed to consist in gay remarks and unexpected
answers; but that which he endeavoured, he seldom failed of performing.
His scenes exhibit not much of humour, imagery, or passion; his
personages are a kind of intellectual gladiators; every sentence is to
ward or strike; the contest of smartness is never intermitted; his wit
is a meteor playing to and fro with alternate coruscations. His comedies
have, therefore, in some degree, the operation of tragedies; they
surprise rather than divert, and raise admiration oftener than
merriment. But they are the works of a mind replete with images, and
quick in combination.

Of his miscellaneous poetry, I cannot say any thing very favourable. The
powers of Congreve seem to desert him when he leaves the stage, as
Antæus was no longer strong than when he could touch the ground. It
cannot be observed without wonder, that a mind so vigorous and fertile
in dramatick compositions should, on any other occasion, discover
nothing but impotence and poverty. He has, in these little pieces,
neither elevation of fancy, selection of language, nor skill in
versification: yet, if I were required to select from the whole mass of
English poetry the most poetical paragraph, I know not what I could
prefer to an exclamation in the Mourning Bride:


ALMERIA.

It was a fancy'd noise; for all is hush'd.

LEONORA.

It bore the accent of a human voice.

ALMERIA.

It was thy fear, or else some transient wind
Whistling thro' hollows of this vaulted isle:
We'll listen--

LEONORA.

Hark!

ALMERIA.

No, all is hush'd and still as death. --'Tis dreadful!