Lo! Pan himself, beneath a blasted oak, And, many years after, he gave no proof that time had improved his wifdom or his wit; for, on the death of the marquis of Blandford this was his fong: And now the winds, which had fo long been ftill, Now loos'd their ftreams: as when defcending rains Nothing but groans and fighs were heard around, In both these funeral poems, when he has yelled out many fyllables of fenfeless dolour, he difmiffes his reader with fenfelefs confolation from the grave of Paftora rifes a light that forms a ftar; and where Amaryllis wept for Amyntas, from every tear fprung up a violet. But William is his hero, and of William he will fing: The The hovering winds on downy wings fhall wait around, And catch, and waft to foreign lands, the flying found. It cannot but be proper to fhew what they fhall have to catch and carry : 'Twas now, when flowery lawns the profpect made, And flowing brooks beneath a forest shade, A lowing heifer, lovelieft of the herd, Stood feeding by; while two fierce bulls prepar'd Unthought prefage of what met next my view; And now, for woods, and fields, and fpringing flowers, towers; Two rival armies all the plain o'erfpread, Namur, the prize and mistress of the war. The Birth of the Mufe is a miferable fiction. One good line it has, which was borrowed from Dryden. The concluding verfes are thefe: This faid, no more remain'd. Th' etherial host Of his irregular poems, that to Mrs. Arabella Hunt feems to be the beft: his ode for Cecilia's Day, however, has fome lines which Pope had in his mind when he wrote his own. His imitations of Horace are feebly paraphrafti cal, and the additions which he makes are of little value. He fometimes retains what were more properly omitted, as when he talks of vervain and gums to propitiate Venus. Of his Tranflations, the fatire of Juvenal was written very early, and may therefore be forgiven, though it had not the maffinefs and vigour of the original. In all his verfions ftrength and fprightlinefs are wanting: his Hymn to Venus, from Homer, is perhaps the beft. His lines are weakened with expletives, and his rhymes are frequently imperfect. His petty poems are feldom worth the cost of criticifm; fometimes the thoughts are falfe, and fometimes common. In his verses on lady Gethin, the latter part is an imitation of Dryden's ode on Mrs. Killigrew; and Doris, that has been fo lavishly flattered by Steele, has indeed fome lively. stanzas, but the expreffion might be mended; and the most striking part of the character had been already fhewn in Love for Love. His Art of Pleafing is founded on a vulgar, but perhaps impracti cable principle, and the ftalenefs of the fenfe is not concealed by any novelty of illustration or elegance of diction. This tiffue of poetry, from which he feems to have hoped a lafting name, is totally neglected, and known only as it appended to his plays. While comedy or while tragedy is regarded, his plays are likely to be read; but, except what relates to the ftage, I know not that he has ever written a ftanza that is fung, or a couplet that is quoted. The general character of his Mifcellanies is, that they fhew little wit, and little virtue. Yet 1 Tet to him it must be confeffed that we are indebted for the correction of a national error, and for the cure of our Pindarick madness. He first taught the English writers that Pindar's odes were regular; and though certainly he had not the fire requifite for the higher fpecies of lyrick poetry, he has fhewn us that enthusiasm has its rules, and that in mere confufion there is neither grace nor greatnefs. BLACKMORE. SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE is one of those men whofe writings have attracted much notice, but of whofe life and manners very little has been communicated, and whose lot it has been to be much oftener mentioned by enemies than by friends. He was the fon of Robert Blackmore of Corfham in Wiltshire, ftyled by Wood Gentleman, and fuppofed to have been an attorney: having been for fome time educated in a country-fchool, he was fent at thirteen to Westminster; and in 1668 was entered at Edmund-Hall in Oxford, where he took the degree of M. A. June 3, 1676, and refided thirteen years; a much longer time than it is ufual to spend at the univerfity; and which he seems to have paffed with very little attention to the buffefs of the place; for, in his poems, the ancient names of nations or places which he often introduces, are pronounced by chance. He afterwards travelled: at Padua he was made doctor of phyfick; and, after having wandered about a year and a half on the Continent, returned home. In fome part of his life, it is not known when, his indigence compelled him to teach a school, an humiliation with which, though it certainly lafted but a little while, his enemies did not forget to reproach him, when he became confpicuous enough to excite malevolence; and let it be remembered for his honour, that to have been once a schoolmaster is the only reproach which all the perfpicacity of malice, animated by wit, has ever fixed upon his private life. When he firft engaged in the ftudy of phyfick, he enquired, as he fays, of Dr. Sydenham what authors he should read, and was directed by Sydenham, to Don Quixote; "which," faid he, " is a very good book; I read it ftill." The perverfenefs of mankind makes it often mischievous in men of eminence to give way to merriment; the idle and the illiterate will long fhelter themselves under this foolish apophthegm. Whether he refted fatisfied with this direction, or fought for better, he commenced physician, and obtained high eminence and extenfive practice. He became Fellow of the College of Phyficians, April 12, 1687, being one of the thirty which, by the new charter of king James, were added to the former Fellows. His refidence was in Cheapfide*, At Sadlers Hall. and |