united powers of imagery and harmony, that delightful being is exhibited with all the charms and graces that pleasure and fancy have appropriated to her : Relegat, qui femel percurrit ; But thou, O Hope, with eyes fo fair, And bade the lovely fcenes at diftance hail ! Still would her touch the ftrain prolong, And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on echo ftill thro' all the fong; . And where her fweeteft theme fhe chofe, A foft refponfive voice was heard at every clofe, And Hope enchanted fmil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. In In what an exalted light does the above stan. za place this great master of poetical imagery and harmony! what varied sweetness of numbers! what delicacy of judgment and expreffion! how characteristically does Hope prolong her ftrain, repeat her foothing closes, call upon her affociate Echo for the fame purposes, and display every pleasing grace peculiar to her. And Hope enchanted fmil'd, and wav'd Legat, qui nunquam legit; The defcriptions of joy, jealoufy and revenge are excellent, though not equally fo; those of melancholy and cheerfulness are fuperior to every thing of the kind; and, upon the whole, there may be very little hazard in afferting that this is the finest ode in the English language. AN EPISTLE TO SIR THOMAS HANMER, ON HIS EDITION OF SHAKESPEAR'S WORKS. T HIS poem was written by our author at the university, about the time when Sir Thomas Hanmer's pompous edition of Shakespear was printed at Oxford. If it has not fo much merit as the reft of his poems, it has still more than the subject deserves. The verfification is eafy and genteel, and the allufions always poetical. The character of the poet Fletcher in particular is very justly drawn in this epiftle. MR. that mournful melody and those tender images which are the diftinguishing excellencies of such pieces as bewail departed friendship, or beauty, he was an almost unequalled master. He knew perfectly to exhibit fuch circumftances, peculiar to the objects, as awaken the influences of pity, and while, from his own great fenfibility, he felt what he wrote, he naturally addreffed himself to the feelings of others. To read fuch lines as the following, all beautiful and tender as they are, without correfponding emotions of pity, is furely impoffible. The tender thought on thee fhall dwell, Belov'd, 'till life can charm no more; And mourn'd, 'till Pity's felf be dead. The ode on the death of Thomson seems to of a have been written in an excurfion to Richmond by water. The rural scenery has a proper effect in an ode to the memory poet, much of whose merit lay in descriptions of the fame kind; and the appellations of " Druid" and "meek nature's child" are happily characteristic. For the better understanding of this ode, it is necessary to remember that Mr. Thomfon lies buried in t the church of Richmond. The EN D. |