Speaking contemptuoufly of his learned and enthufiaftic friend Winkelman. Se io poffedeffi il talento di scriver bene (says the modest painter) vorrei esporre ragioni, e fatti, e infegnar cofe utili fenza perdermi a contradir veruno poiche mi fembra, che fi poffan fare buoni libri senza dire, che il tale, o il tal fogetto s' inganna ; e finalmente fe ella mi puo dimoftrare, che la maldicenza fia cofa honefta, allora io converrò che importa molto poco il modo, con cui fi attacca la riputazione del proffimo : e aggiungo che il farcasmo e l' infulto fono la peggior maniera di mormorare, e di biasimare donde risulta sempre il maggior danno a chi lo ufa.-Opere di Mengs, tomo primo, p. 243.

These admonitions are excellent, and want only the good example of the monitor to make them complete; but Mengs, unfortunately, in his profeffional writings, has fpoken of Reynolds in a manner that grossly violates his own doctrine; fo difficult is it, my good Doctor, to find a pacific preacher and his practice in perfect harmony with each other.

To feeling and fervent spirits there can hardly be any provocation more apt to excite afperity of language, than an infult offered to an object of their efteem and veneration. In writing upon Milton, and those who, to my apprehenfion, have infulted his name with contumelious severity, I may have been hurried beyond the bias of my

temper, which is, I truft, neither irafcible nor cenforious; but I will imitate fome well meaning catholic writers, and making you, my dear Warton, my inquifitor as well as my patron, I will here very honeftly fay to you, “Si quid dixerim contra fpiritum caritatis evan"gelica indictum volo."

Let me now hasten to apologize to you, as I think I ought, for such deficiencies as your nice difcernment cannot fail to obferve in the work I addrefs to you. You remember that Plutarch, the amiable prince of ancient biographers, has very juftly mentioned the advantage arifing to a writer from refiding in a city amply furnished with books ;—it is my lot, you know, to live in a little fequeftered village, and I chufe to do fo for the reafon which attached the good-natured Plutarch to his native Cheronæa, that it may not become lefs. may not become lefs. Had it fuited me to devote much time and labour to extensive researches in the public and private libraries of London, it is poffible that I might have discovered fome latent anecdotes relating to Milton; yet after the patient inquiries of the intelligent and indefatigable Dr. Birch, and after the signal difcovery of your more fuccefsful brother, little novelty could be expected to reward the toil of such investigation; and perhaps a writer too eager to make new discoveries on this beaten ground, might be hurried by fuch eagerness into the cenfurable temerity of Peck the antiquarian, who,

in his memoirs of the great poet, has affixed the name of Milton to a portrait and a poem that do not belong to him.

Though my work has been executed in a retired village of England, my enquiries have extended far beyond the limits of our own country, by the aid of fome intelligent and obliging friends, who had the kindness to search for me the great libraries of Paris and Rome, in the hope of discovering fome neglected compofition, or latent anecdote, that might be useful to a biographer of Milton. The fuccefs of these researches has not been equal to the kindness and the zeal of the intelligent enquirers; but an unexpected favour from a literary friend, who is known to me only by his writings, has enabled me to throw, perhaps, a new ray of light on that inviting fubject of conjecture, the real origin of Milton's greatest performance.

In the differtation, which I have annexed to this life of the poet, you will find fome account of an Italian drama on the inhabitants of Paradise, which, though it rifes not to the poetical spirit of Andreini, may have had fome influence, I apprehend, on the fancy of Milton. You will also find, that I have followed your example, in recommending your old acquaintance Andrcini to the notice of the public. He happened to engage my attention, when the health of my revered friend, Mr. Cowper,

allowed

allowed him to be my guest; and, after our more serious morning ftudies, it afforded us a pleasant relaxation and amusement to throw fome parts of the Adamo into English, in a rapid yet metrical translation. In this joint work, or rather pastime, it would be needless, if it were poffible, to distinguish the lines of the united tranflators, as the version had no higher aim than to gratify the curiosity of the English reader, without aspiring to praise. A very different character is due to that verfion of Milton's Latin poetry, which my excellent friend has finished with such care and felicity, that even from the separate fpecimens of it, with which this life is embellished, you, my dear Warton, and every delicate judge of poetry, will, I am confident, efteem it an abfolute model of poetical translation. For the honour of Milton, and for that of his most worthy interpreter, I hope that the whole of this admirable performance may be foon imparted to the public, as I trust that returning health will happily restore its incomparable author to his fufpended ftudies; an event that may affect the moral intereft and the mental delight of all the world—for rarely, very rarely indeed, has heaven bestowed on any individual such an ample, such a variegated portion of true poetical genius, and never did it add greater purity of heart to that divine yet perilous talent, to guide and fanctify its exertion. Those who are best acquainted with the writings and the

virtues of my

ineftimabie

ineftimable friend, must be most fervent in their hopes, that in the course and the close of his poetical career he may resemble his great and favourite predeceffors, Homer and Milton; their fpirits were cheered and illuminated in the decline of life by a fresh portion of poetical power; and if in their latter productions they rofe not to the full force and fplendor of their meridian glory, they yet enchanted mankind with the sweetness and ferenity of their defcending light.

Literature, which Cicero has fo eloquently described as the friend of every period and condition of human existence, is peculiarly the friend of age; a truth of which you, my dear Warton, are a very lively illuftration-you, who at a season of life when unlettered mortals generally murmur against the world, are miniftering to its inftruction and its pleasure by continuing to write with temper, vivacity, and grace.

That you may long retain and display this happy afsemblage of endowments, fo rare in a critical veteran, is the cordial wish of many, and particularly the wish of your very fincere and affectionate friend,

W. H.

Eartham, October 29, 1795.