as fupremely excelling both in poetry and criticism. Part of his reputation may be probably afcribed to the advancement of his fortune; when, as Swift obferves, he became a statesman, and faw poets waiting at his levee, it was no wonder that praise was accumulated upon him. Much likewife may be more honourably afcribed to his perfonal character: he who, if he had claimed it, might have obtained the diadem, was not likely to be denied the laurel.

But time quickly puts an end to artificial and accidental fame; and Addifon is to pafs through futurity protected only by his genius. Every name which kindness or intereft once raised too high is in danger, left the next age fhould, by the vengeance of criticism, fink it in the fame proportion. A great writer has lately ftyled him "an indifferent poet, " and a worse critick."

His poetry is firft to be confidered; of which it muft be confeffed that it has not often thofe felicities of diction which give luftre to fentiments, or that vigour of fentiment that animates diction: there is little of ardour, vehemence, or tranfport; there is very rarely the awfulness of grandeur, and not very often the fplendour of elegance. He thinks justly; but he thinks faintly. This is his general character; to which, doubtlefs, many single paffages will furnish exception.

Yet, if he feldom reaches fupreme excellence, he rarely finks into dulness, and is still more rarely entangled in abfurdity. He did not trust his powers enough to be negligent. There is in moft of his compofitions a calmnefs and equability, deliberate VOL. X. I

and

and cautious, fometimes with little that delights, but feldom with any thing that offends.

Of this kind seem to be his poems to Dryden, to Sommers, and to the King. His ode on St. Cecilia has been imitated by Pope, and has fomething in it of Dryden's vigour. Of his Account of the English Poets, he used to speak as a poor thing*;" but it is not worse than his ufual ftrain. He has faid, not very judiciously, in his character of Waller,

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Thy verfe could fhew ev'n Cromwell's innocence;
And compliment the ftorms that bore him hence.
O! had thy Mufe not come an age too foon,
But feen great Naffau on the British throne,
How had his triumph glitter'd in thy page!

What is this but to fay, that he who could compliment Cromwell had been the proper poet for king William? Addifon, however, never printed the piece.

The Letter from Italy has been always praised, but has never been praised beyond its merit. It is more correct, with lefs appearance of labour, and more elegant, with lefs ambition of ornament, than any other of his poems. There is, however, one broken metaphor, of which notice may properly be

taken :

Fir'd with that name-
I bridle in my struggling Mufe with pain,
That longs to launch into a nobler ftrain.

To bridle. a goddess is no very delicate idea; but why muft fhe be bridled? because fhe longs to launch ; an act which was never hindered by a bridle and whither will she launch? into a nobler ftrain. She is

* Spence.

in the first line a borse, in the second a boat; and the care of the poet is to keep his horfe or his boat from finging.

The next compofition is the far-famed campaign, which Dr. Warton has termed a "Gazette in Rhyme," with harshness not often used by the good-nature of his criticifm. Before a cenfure fo fevere is admitted, let us confider that War is a frequent fubject of Poetry, and then enquire who has defcribed it with more juftnefs and force. Many of our own writers tried their powers upon this year of victory yet Addifon's is confeffedly the beft performance; his poem is the work of a man not blinded by the duft of learning; his images are not borrowed merely from books. The fuperiority which he confers upon his hero is not perfonal prowefs, and "mighty bone," but deliberate intrepidity, a calm command of his paffions, and the power of confulting his own mind in the midft of danger. The rejection and contempt of fiction is rational and manly.

It may be observed that the laft line is imitated by Pope :

Marlb'rough's exploits appear divinely bright

Rais'd of themselves their genuine charms they boast, And thofe that paint them trueft, praise them most. This Pope had in his thoughts; but, not knowing how to use what was not his own, he fpoiled the thought when he had borrowed it:

The well-fung woes fhall foothe my penfive ghoft; He beft can paint them who shall feel them moft. Martial exploits may be painted; perhaps woes may be painted; but they are furely not painted by being

well-fung: it is not easy to paint in fong, or to fing in colours.

No paffage in the Campaign has been more often mentioned than the fimile of the angel, which is faid in the Tatler to be "one of the noblest "thoughts that ever entered into the heart of man," and is therefore worthy of attentive confideration. Let it be firft enquired whether it be a fimile. A poetical fimile is the discovery of likeness between two actions, in their general nature diffimilar, or of causes terminating by different operations in fome refemblance of effect. But the mention of another like confequence from a like cause, or of a like performance by a like agency, is not a fimile, but an exemplification. It is not a fimile to fay that the Thames waters fields, as the Po waters fields; or that as Hecla vomits flames in Iceland, fo Etna vomits flames in Sicily. When Horace fays of Pindar, that he pours his violence and rapidity of verse, as a river fwoln with rain rushes from the mountain; or of himself, that his genius wanders in queft of poetical decorations, as the bee wanders to collect honey; he, in either cafe, produces a fimile; the mind. is impreffed with the refemblance of things generally unlike, as unlike as intellect and body. But if Pindar had been defcribed as writing with the copioufnefs and grandeur of Homer, or Horace had told that he reviewed and finished his own poetry with the fame care as Ifocrates polifhed his orations, inftead of fimilitude, he would have exhibited almost identity; he would have given the fame portraits with different names. In the poem now examined,

when the English are represented as gaining a fortified pafs, by repetition of attack, and perfeverance of refolution; their obftinacy of courage and vigour of onset is well illuftrated by the sea that breaks, with inceffant battery, the dikes of Holland. This is a fimile: but when Addifon, having celebrated the beauty of Marlborough's perfon, tells us, that "Achilles thus was formed with every grace," here is no fimile, but a mere exemplification. A fimile may be compared to lines converging at a point, and is more excellent as the lines approach from greater diftance: an exemplification may be confidered as two parallel lines, which run on together without approximation, never far feparated, and never joined.

Marlborough is fo like the angel in the poem, that the action of both is almoft the fame, and performed by both in the fame manner. Marlborough "teaches the battle to rage;" the angel "directs "the ftorm:" Marlborough is "unmoved in peace"ful thought;" the angel is calm and ferene;" Marlborough ftands "unmoved amidst the fhock "of hofts;" the angel rides " calm in the whirl"wind." The lines on Marlborough are juft and noble; but the fimile gives almoft the fame images a fecond time.

But perhaps this thought, though hardly a fimile, was remote from vulgar conceptions, and required great labour of research, or dexterity of application. Of this Dr. Madden, a name which Ireland ought to honour, once gave me his opinion. "If I had "fet," said he, "ten fchool-boys to write on the "battle

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