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• With respect to sprightly turns and poignancy of wit, • the prologues of Dryden have not been equalled. The • reader may find twenty of them in the first edition of the « first volume of Tonson's Miscellanies. Many of them were « written on occasion of the players going to Oxford; a cul• tom, for the neglect of which no good reason can be assign

ed, except, perhaps, that even the players must now, for

footh, follow the contemptable cant of decrying that most • learned University, and of doing nothing that may contri.bute to its pleasure and emolument.'

From some former passages in this Essay, we suspected that the Author bad been an Oxonian; but the last quotation is a proof, next to demonstration, that he is little acquainted with that moft learned university; otherwise he must have known, that the Vice-Chancellors alone have the power of allowing plays to be acted in that city, and within five miles of it; and that, therefore, those Gentlemen, and not they who decry the university, would seem reprehensible if the Oxonians are either deprived of pleasure or emolument. But to do justice to all, the Vice-Chancellors may be vindicated in their prohibition of plays; it was intended to prevent the youth from being debauched, and other bad consequences.* Perhaps if plays could now be performed without women, as formerly, Oxford might again have theatrical representations.

The Prologue leads the Critic to consider the Tragedy itself, which he blames as destitute of action, pathos, and even character, and as taking up more time than it needed; but he does not do justice to the fublimity of some of the speeches, and the philosophical precision of the sentiments. The fimile of Mount Atlas, and of the traveller smothered in the desert, he allows to be in character, but thinks them fufficiently obvious. That of the mountain is, indeed, obvious, and has it the less propriety on that account? But how can the fimile of the traveller be ftiled obvious, when it is the first of the kind in the English tongue ? After all, both the fimilies, in our opinion, are out of place, as the instances are few, where a comparison can be introduced in tragedy with any fort of propriety.

The Essayist thinks the loves of Marcia and Juba, of Lucia and Portius, are vicious and insipid Episodes; and says, they . debase the dignity, and destroy the unity, of the fable.' In

. Such bad consequences have actually happened in that very Unive:fity ; of which instances might be mentioned.

deed, deed, where love is only the secondary passion, in a play, it can never greatly affect,

From his criticism on this tragedy, the Author proeeds to confider Mr. Addison's other writings. The Letter from Italy he thinks no way equal to a subject fo fruitful of genuine poetry, and which might have warmed the most cold and correct imagination. One would have expected (adds he), a young tra,

veller, in the height of his genius and judgment, would ! have broke out into some strokes of enthusiasm. With what

fatness and unfeelingness has he spoken of statuary and painting? Raphael never received a more phlegmatick elogy. The slavery and superstition of the present Romans are well touched upon, towards the conclusion; but I will venture to name a little piece, on a parallel subject, that greatly excels this celebrated Letter, and in which are as much lively and original imagery, strong painting, and manly sentiments of freedom, as I have ever read in our language. It is a copy of Verses written at Virgil's tomb, and printed in Dodfley's fourth volume of Miscellanies.'

Never was any thing more unjust than the character here given us of Mr. Addison's Letter from Italy. What can be more poetical than his description of the Italian rivers, and especially of the Po?

Fir’d with a thousand raptures I survey
Eridanus through flowery meadows stray,
The King of Floods! that rolling o'er the plains,
The tow'ring Alps of half their moisture drains,
And proudly swoln with a whole winter's snows,

Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows.
What more beautiful than

Sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throng,
I look for streams irnmortaliz'd in song;
That loft in silence and oblivion lie,
Dumb are their fountains, and their channels dry!
Yet run for ever by the Muse's skill,

And in the smooth description murmur still. Nor is the description of the Tyber less picturesque. This however, we shall, omit together with his elegantly sublime compliment to Lord Hallifax, and only ask the impartial reader, whether the following lines are destitute of poetical enthusiasm.

See how the golden groves around me smile,
That thun the coast of Britain's stormy isle,
Or when transplanted, and preserved with care,
Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air.


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Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments
To nobler ialtes, and more exalted scents :
E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
And trolden weeds send out a rich perfume,
Bear me fone God to Baia's gentle seats,
Or cover me in Umbria's green retreuts ;
Where western gales eternally reside,
And all the seasons lavish all their pride:
Blogoms, and fruits, and flowers, together rise

And the whole year in gay confusion lii s. Is not the description of the ruins of Rome nobly animated, and particularly the four last lines ?

Where the old Romans deathless acis display'd,
Their base degenerate progeny upbraid :
Whole rivers here forsake the fields below,

And, wond'ring at their heigbe, through airy channels flow*. Nor can we think Mr. Addison's verses on Statuary, and on Raphael, fo Alat and unfeeling as the Critic represents them.

Still to new scenes my wandering Muse retires,
And the dunb show of breuthing rocks admires;
Where the finooth chissel all its force has shown,
And Softned into fless the rugged fone.
In solemn silence, a majestic band,
Heroes, and Gods, and Roman Consuls fand.
Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown,
And Emperors in Parian marble frown;
While the bright Dames to whom they humbly fu'd,

Still now the charms that their proud hearts subdu'd. If the encomium on Raphael is less animated, the following lines, however, exhibit a picture more lively and glowing than any that ever flowed from the pencil of that wonderful artist: as the moral, too, is well worthy of a Briton.

How has kind Heav'n adorn’d the happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand !
But what avail her unexhaufiled flores,
Her blooming mountains, and her funny foores,
With all the gifts that heaven and earth impari,
The smiles of nature, and the charms of art,
While proud of presion in her vallies riigns,
And Tyranny ulurps her happy plains ?
Tie poor inhabitont beholds in vain
The red'ning orange, and the twelling grain;
Joyless be fees the growing oils and wines,
And in the n.yrtle's fragrant foude rețines;
Starves, in the midpt of nature's bounty cursi,
And in the loaden vineyard dies for thirft.-
The aqueducts.

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Indeed the flavery and superstition of the Romans are so well touched upon, towards the conclusion, that none but the author of the verses he fets in competition with Addison, or the Author's very partial friend, could ever have dream'd of the parallel; yet are we far from denying that Copy of Verses its due merit.

< That there are many well wrought descriptions,' adds the Critic, and even pathetic strokes in the Campaign' (which he elsewhere calls a Gazette in rhyme) it would be stupidity • and malignity to deny. But surely the regular march ( which the poet has observed, from one town to another, as

if he had been a Commissary of the army, cannot well be 6 excused.'

Mr. Voltaire, however, (whefe judgment our Author, on other occafions, has readily adopted, and whom we all know to be not over partial to the English poets) thought very differently of the Campaign. That spirited author, after defcribing the battle of Blenheim, thus proceeds; Les remerciments des Chambres du parlement, ceux des villes & des bour. gades, les acclamations d'Angleterre furent le premier priz quil recut de la victoire. Le poeme du celebre Addison, monument plus durable que le palais de Blenheim, est comptè, par cette nation guerriere et lavante, parmi les recompenses les plus honorables du Duc de Marlborough. But to return to our Critic; who is so candid as to allow due praise to some other parts of Mr. Addison's works, particularly his prose pieces.

In various parts,' of his prose Essays, are to be found many strokes of genuine and sublime poetry, many marks • of a vigorous and exuberant imagination;' particularly

in the noble Allegory of Pain and Pleasure, the Vision of • Mirza, the Story of Maraton and Yaratilda, of Conftantia < and Theodofius, the beautiful Eastern Tale of Abdallah " and Ballora, and many others, together with several strokes " in the Essay on the Plealures of the Imagination. After all, « the chief and characteristical excellence of Addison was his

humour; for in humour no mortal has excelled him, except 4 Moliere ; witness the characier of Sir Roger de Coverly, ' fo original, fo natural, and so inviolably preierved, particus

larly in the month which the Spectator fpends at his Hall in • the country, witness also the Drummer, that excellent and

neglected comedy, that just picture of life and real manners, where the poet never speaks in his own person, or totally drops or forgets a character, for the sake of introducing a brilliant fimile, or acute remark : where no train is laid for witį no Jeremys, or Bens, are suffered to appear.".

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The Critic next considers the Epilogue to Jane Shore, which, he says, is written with the air of gallantry and rail

lery, which, by a strange perversion of taste, the audience s expects in all epilogues to the most serious and pathetic • plays. To recommend cuckoldom, and palliate adultery, is their usual intent.'

This Epilogue leads him to consider Rowe as a writer; and whom he justly represents as rather delicate and tender, than strong and pathetic; and as soothing us with a tranquil and tender fort of complacency, rather than cleaving the heart with pangs of commiferation.

« His distresses are entirely s founded on the passion of love. His diction is extremely • elegant and chatte ; and his versification highly melodious. • His plays are declamations rather than dialogues; and his

characters are general, and undistinguished from each other, « Such a furious character as that of Bajazet is easily drawn; • and let me add, easily acted. There is a want of unity in • the fable of Tamerlane. The death's head, dead body, 6 and stage hung in mourning, in the Fair Penitent, are in<artificial and mechanical methods of affecting an audience.

In a word, his plays are musical and pleasing poems, but • inactive and unmoving tragedies. This of Jane Shore, is, “ I think, the most interesting and affecting of any he has “ given us; but probability is fadly violated in it, by the ne

glect of the unity of time. For a person to be supposed to s be starved during the representation of five acts, is a striksing instance of the absurdity of this violation. In this • piece, as in all of Rowe's, are many florid speeches, ut• terly inconsistent with the state and circumstances of the di• stressful personages who speak them. Of this, as he gives some instances, so does he also candidly quote some that are extremely natural and tender. What Shore answers to her hus, band, when he asks her movingly,

Why doft thou fix thy dying eyes upon me
With such an earnest, such a piteous look,
As if thy heart was full of some sad meaning

Thou couldīt not speak :-
Is, he oberves, pathetic to a great degree; and

Forgive me, but forgive me! Are words, adds he, that far exceed the most pompous dee clamations of Cato, « The interview between Jane Shore

and Alicia, in the middle of this act, (continues the Critic) is also very affecting: where the madness of Alicia is well painted. But of all representations of madness, that of



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