that there is in this poem copioufnefs and elegance of language, vigour of fentiment, and imagery well adapted to take poffeffion of the fancy. His poem on the Death of Lady Anfon, addreffed her father, Lord Harwicke, deferves great praise. It is ferious, pathetic, and poetical in the highest degree. The diftrefs of Cicero for the death of Tullia, is happily introduced, and rendered very applicable by a fimilitude of fome circumstances. None of his poems do him greater honow, or give us a higher idea of his poetical powers.

His Truth in Rhyme is a pretty court compliment, in which his patron, Lord Bute, makes almok as good a figure as his Majefty. It is chiefly remarkable for the extraordinary inftance of vary in the imprimatur prefixed to it.

If Chesterfield, so justly celebrated for the elegance of his taste and wit, still retained so mad. the courtier as to give fuch a teftimony to this poem, as no poem ever deserved, Mallet ought not to have been fo far tranfported by it as publicly to triumph in fo extravagant a compliment, even admitting that it was fincere, which may be reasonably doubted. Zephyr, or the Stratagem, is a tale in the manner of Prior, told with cafe and humour. There is fome wit and spirit in it; but it i unfit for a modeft ear. Cupid and Hymen, the Discovery, the Reward, are written with ease and fprightliness, and may be read with pleasure. His Prologue to Thomson's " Agamemnon" is faperior to that which he received from Thomson for Mustapha. His Funeral Hymn opens with a becoming folemnity and grandeur of expreffion; but is totally spoiled by a number of fhort rhym2, which are fo far from conveying any idea fuitable to the folemn dignity of a funeral hymn, that they turn the whole into a burlefque. The Fragment, beginning, Fair morn afcends, &c. is remarkably fine. It is of a ftrain more exalted than any of his other pieces. He has no where discovered more poctical enthusiasm. His Epitaphs deserve particular commendation. His ballads of W/liam and Margaret, Edrvin and Emma, and The Birks of Endermay, rank with the best compoûtions of that kind in our language. William and Margaret is fully entitled to the favourable reception n met with. It is the most pleafing of all his poetical compofitions. It is plaintive, pathetic, and fimple; both the fentiment and the expreffion are equally captivating. Dr. Johnson is almot fingular in thinking that “it contains nothing very striking or difficult." Edrvin and Emma is 11 imitation of William and Margaret; though certainly not altogether equal to it. An unfortunate amour is the fubject of both. The ftory of the hapless pair is added in profe, and averred to be matter of fact. The father of Edwin is described in the following paffage, by a fimile immediately arifing from the subject itself, which conveys a direct and unequivocal illustration, with a concitenefs and expreffion truly admirable:

His character, as given by Dr. Johnson, cannot be generally allowed, without doing great injustice to his literary and poetical merit.

"As a writer, he cannot be placed in any high class. There is no fpecies of composition in which he was eminent. His dramas had their day, a short day, and are forgotten; his blank verfe ferma to my ear the echo of Thomfon. His Life of Bacon is known, as it is appended to Bacon's volumes, but it is no longer mentioned. His works are such as a writer bustling in the world, showing himfelf in public, and emerging occafionally from time to time into notice, might keep alive by his personal influence; but which conveying little information, and giving no great pleasure, must soon give way, as the fucceffion of things produces new topics of converfation, and other modes of 2mufement

THE WORKS OF MALLET.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

WILLIAM, LORD MANSFIELD,

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF ENGLAND.

JANUARY 1, 1759.

OF VERBAL CRITICISM.

ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST AND SECOND EDITIONS.

As the defign of the following poem is to rally the abufe of Verbal Criticism, the author could not, with out manifeft partiality, overlook the editor of Milton, and the reftorer of Shakspeare. With regar to the later, he has read over the many and ample fpecimens with which that fcholiaft has already obliged the public: and of these, and these only, he pretends to give his opinion. But, whatever he may think of the critic, not bearing the leaft ill-will to the man, he deferred printing thefe veries though written feveral months ago, till he heard that the subicription for a new edition of Shat fpeare was clofed.

He begs leave to add likewise, that this poem was undertaken and written entirely without the knew ledge of the gentleman to whom it is addretfed. Only as it is a public teftimony of his inviol efteem for Mr. Pope, on that account, particularly, he wishes, it may not be judged to increase number of mean performances, with which the town is almoft daily peftered."

AMONG the numerous fools, by fate defign'd
Oft to disturb, and oft divert, mankind,
The reading coxcomb is of special notę,
By rule a poet, and a judge by rote:
Grave fon of idle industry and pride,
Whom learning but perverts, and books mifguide.

O fam'd for judging, as for writing well,
That rareft fcience, where fo few excel;
Whofe life, feverely fcann'd, tranfcends thy lays,
For wit fupreme is but thy fecond praife:
'Tis thine, O Pope, who choose the better part,
To tell how falfe, how vain, the Scholiaft's art,
Which nor to taste, nor genius has pretence,
And, if 'tis learning, is not common sense.

In error obftinate, in wrangling loud,
For trifles eager, pofitive, and proud;
Deep in the darkness of dull authors bred,
With all their refuse lumber'd in his head,
What every dunce from every dunghill drew
Of literary offals, old or new,

Forth steps at laft the felf-applauding wight,
Of points and letters, chaff and ftraws, to write :
Sagely refolv'd to fwell each bulky piece
With venerable toys, from Roque and Greece;
How oft, in Homer, Paris curl'd his hair;
If Aristotle's cap were round or fquare;
If in the cave, where Dido firft was fped,
To Tyre the turn'd her heels, to Troy her head.
Such the choice anecdotes, profound and vain,
That ftore a Bentley's and a Burman's brain :
Hence, Plato quoted, or the Stagyrite,

To prove that flaine afcends, and fnow is white:
Hence, much hard study, without fenfe or breeding,
And all the grave impertinence of reading.
If Shakspeare fays, the noon-day fun is bright,
His fcholiaft will remark, it then was light;
Turn Caxton, Winkin, each old Goth and Hun,
To rectify the reading of a pun.
Thus, nicely trifling, accurately dull,
How one may toil, and toil--to be a fool!

But is there then no honour due to age?
No reverence to great Shakspeare's noble page?
And he, who half a life has read him o'er,
His mangled points and commas to restore,
Meets he fuch flight regard in nameless lays,
Whom Bufo treats, and Lady Would-be pays

Pride of his own, and wonder of this age,
Who first created, and yet rules, the stage,
Bold to defign, all-powerful to expreis,
Shakspeare each pallion drew in every dress:
Great above rule, and imitating none;
Rich without borrowing, nature was his own:
Yet is his fenfe de bas'd by grofs allay:
As gold in mines lies mix'd with dirt and clay.
Now, eagle-wing'd, his heavenward flight hetke
The big stage thunders, and the foul awakes:
Now, low on earth, a kindred reptile creeps;
Sad Hamlet quibbles, and the heater fleeps

Such was the poet: next the Scholiat view;
Faint through the colouring, yet the features true.
Condemn'd to dig and dung a barren toil,
Where hardly tares will grow with care and toi
He, with low industry, goes gleaning on
From good, from bad, irom mean, neglecting nos:
His brother book-worm fo, in shelf or stall,
Will feed alike on Woolfton and on Paul.
By living clients hopeless now of bread,
He pettyfogs a fcrap from authors dead:
See him on Shakspeare pore, intent to steal
Poor faice, by fragments, for a third-day meal.
Such that grave bird in northern feas is found.
Whofe name a Dutchman only knows to found,
Where'er the king of fith moves on before,
This humble friend attends from thore to thore
With eye ftill earneft, and with bill inclin'd,
He picks up what his patron drops behind;
With thofe choice cates his palate to regale,
And is the careful Tibbald of a whale.

On each dull paffage, each dull book contains;
Bleft genius who beftows his oil and pairs
The toil more grateful, as the tafk more low:
So carrion is the quarry of a crow.

* This remarkable bird is called the StrandtJager. Here you fee bow be purchofes his jood: and the fame author, from whom this account is taken, tells us farther bow he comes by bis drink. You may fee him, adds the Dutchinan, frequent.? pursuing a fort of fea-mew, called Külge-Gebe, whom be torments incessantly to make him cris an excrement; which being liquid, ferces bat, I imagine, for drink. See a collegion of Voyages to the North.

There his fam'd author's page is flat and poor,
here, moft exact the reading to restore;
y dint of plodding, and by fweat of face,
bull to change, a blunder to replace:
Thate'er is refufe critically gleaning,
nd mending nonfenfe into doubtful meaning.
or this, dread Dennis * (and who can forbear,
unce or not Dunce, relating it, to stare?)
is head though jealous, and his years fourscore,
v'n Dennis + praises, who ne'er prais'd before!
or this, the Scholiaft claims his share of fame,
nd, modeft, prints his own with Shakspeare's

name:

low justly, Pope, in this short story view;
Thich may be dull, and therefore fhould be true.
A prelate, fam'd for clearing each dark text,
Tho fenfe with found, and truth with rhetoric
mixt,

ince, as his moving theme to rapture warm'd,
fpir'd himself, his happy hearers charm'd.
he fermon o'er, the crowd remain'd behind,
and freely, man or woman, fpoke their mind:
ill faid they lik'd the lecture from their foul,
And each, remembering fomething, prais'd the
whole.

At laft an honest sexton join'd the throng
For as the theme was large, their talk was long);
Neighbours, he cry'd, my confcience bids me tell,
Though 'twas the Doctor preach'd--I toll'd the bell.
In this the critic's folly moft is shown:
s there a genius all-unlike his own,
With learning elegant, with wit well bred,
And, as in books, in men and manners read;
Himfelf with puring erudition blind,
Unknowing, as unknown of human kind;
That writer he felects, with awkward aim
His fenfe, at once, to mimic and to maim.
So Florio is a fop, with half a nofe :
So fat Weft Indian planters drefs at beaux.
Thus, gay Petronius was a Dutchman's choice,
And Horace, ftrange to fay, tun'd Bentley's voice.
Horace, whom all the graces taught to please,
Mix'd mirth with morals, eloquence with ease;
His genius focial, as his judgment clear:
When frolic, prudent; fmiling when fevere;
Secure, each temper, and each tafte to hit,
His was the curious happiness of wit.
Skill'd in that nobleft fcience, how to live;
Which learning may direct, but heaven must give;
Grave with Agrippa, with Mecenas gay;
Among the fair, but just as wife as they:
First in the friendships of the great enroll'd,
The St. Johns, Boyles, and Lyttletons, of old.
While Bentley, long to wrangling fchools con-
fin'd,

And, but by books, acquainted with mankind,
Dares, in the fullness of the pedant's pride,
Rhyme, tho' no genius; though no judge, decide.
Yet he, prime pattern of the captious art,
Out-tibbalding poor Tibbald, tops his part:
Holds high the fcourge o'er each fam'd author's
Nor are their graves a refuge for the dead. [head;

"Quis talia fando
Myrmidonum, Dolopumve," &c.VIRG.
See the Dedication of his Remarks on the
Dunciad to Mr. Lewis Theobald.

To Milton lending fenfe, to Horace wit,
He makes them write what never poet writ :
The Roman mufe arraigns his mangling pen;
And Paradife, by him, is loft again.

Such was his doom impos'd by Heaven's decree,
With ears that hear not, eyes that fhall not fee,
The low to fwell, to level the fublime,
To blast all beauty, and beprofe all rhyme.
Great eldest born of dullness, blind and boid!
Tyrant more cruel than Procruftes old;
Who, to his iron-bed, by torture, fits,
Their nobler part, the fouls of fuffering wits.

Such is this man, who heaps his head with bays,
And calls on human kind to found his praife,
For points tranfplac'd with curious want of fkill,
For flattened founds, and sense amended ill.
So wife Caligula, in days of yore,

His helmet fill'd with pebbles on the shore,
Swore he had rifled ocean's richest spoils,
And claim'd a trophy for his martial toils.

Yet be his merits, with his faults, confeft:
Fair-dealing, as the plaineft, is the best.
Long lay the critic's work, with trifles stor'd,
Admir'd in Latin, but in Greek ador'd.
Men fo well read, who confidently wrote,
Their readers could have fworn, were men of note:
To pass upon the crowd for great or rare,
Aim not to make them knowing, make them stare.
For thefe blind votaries good Bentley griev'd,
Writ English notes-and mankind undeceiv'd:
In fuch clear light the serious folly plac'd,
Ev'n thou, Brown Willis, thou may'ft fee the jeft.
But what can cure our vanity of mind,
Deaf to reproof, and to discovery blind?
Let Crooke, a brother-fcholiaft Shakspeare call,
Tibbald, to Heliod-Cooke returns the ball.
So runs the circle ftill: in this, we fee
The lackies of the great and learn'd agree.
If Britain's nobles mix in high debate,
Whence Europe, in fufpenfe, attends her fate;
In mimic feffion their grave footmen meet,
Reduce an army, or equip a fleet:
And, rivalling the critic's lofty style,
Mere Tom and Dick are Stanhope and Argyll.
Yet thofe, whom pride and dullness join to blind,
To narrow cares in narrow fpace confin'd,
Though with big titles each his fellow greets,
Are but to wits, as fcavenger's to streets:
The humble blackguards of a Pope or Gay,
To brush off duft, and wipe their spots away.
Or, if not trivial, harmful is their art;
Fume to the head, or poison to the heart.
Where ancient authors hint at things obfcene,
The Scholiaft fpeaks out broadly what they mean.

*This fagacious Scholiaft is pleased to create an imaginary editor of Milton; who, he fays, by his blunders, interpolations, and vile alterations, loft Paradife a fecond time. This is a poftulatum which furely none of his readers can have the heart to deny him; because otherwife he would have wanted a fair opportunity of calling Milton himself, in the perfon of this phantom, fool, ignorant, idiot, and the like critical compellations, which he plentifully beflows on him. But, though he had no tafte in poetry, he was otherwife a man of very confiderable abilities, and of great erudition.

Difclofing each dark vice, well lost to fame,
And adding fuel to redundant flame,
He, fober pimp to lechery, explains
What Capreæa's ifle, or V-'s alcove contains:
Why Paulus, for his fordid temper known,
Was lavish, to his father's wife alone:
Why thofe fond female vifits duly paid
To tuneful Incuba; and what her trade:
How modern love has made fo many martyrs,
And which keeps ofteneft, Lady C, or Chartres.
But who their various follies can explain?
The tale is infinite, the task were vain.
'Twere to read new-year odes in search of thought;
To fum the libels Pryn or Withers wrote;
To guefs, ere one epiftle faw the light,
How many dunces met, and clubb'd their mite;
To vouch for truth what Welfted prints of Pope,
Or from the brother-boobies steal a trope.
That be the part of perfevering Waflet,
With pen of lead; or, Arnall, thine of brass;
A text for Henley, or a glofs for Hearne,
Who loves to teach, what no man cares to learn.
How little, knowledge reaps from toils like thefe!
Too doubtful to direct, too poor to pleafe.
Yet, critics, would your tribe deferve a name,
And, fairly useful, rife to honeft fame;
First, from the head, a load of lumber move.
And, from the volume, all yourselves approve :
For patch'd and pilter'd fragments, give us sense,
Or learning, clear from learn'd impertinence,
Where moral meaning, or where taste presides,
And wit enlivens but what reafon guides:
Great without fwelling, without meannefs praise,
Serious, not filly; fportive, but not vain;
On trifles flight, on things of ufe profound,
In quoting fober, and in judging found.

VERSES

Thy bright example fhall our world adorn,
And charm, in gracious princes, yet unborn.

Nor deem this verfe from venal art proceeds,
That vice of courts, the foil for baneful weeds.
Here candour dwells; here honeft truths are taught,
To guide and govern, not disguise, the thought
See thefe enlighten'd fages, who prefide
O'er learning's empire; fee the youth they guide:
Behold, all faces are in transport dreft!
But those most wonder, who difcern thee best.
At fight of thee, each free-born heart receives
A joy, the fight of princes rarely gives;
From tyrants fprung, and oft themselves defign'd,
By fate, the future Neroes of their kind:
But tho' thy blood, we know, tranfmitted fprings
From laurell'd heroes, and from warrior kings,
Through that high feries, we, delighted, trace
The friends of liberty, and human race!

Oh, born to glad and animate our ifle!
For thee, our heavens look pleas'd, our feafors
For thee, late object of our tender fears, [(mile
When thy life droop'd, and Britain was in tears,
All-cheering health, the goddess roly-fair,
Attended by foft funs, and vernal air, [hour,
Sought thofe * fam'd fprings, where, each afflictive
Difeafe, and age, and pain, invoke her power:
She came; and, while to thee the current flows,
Pour'd all herself, and in thy cup arofe.
Hence, to thy cheek, that inftant bloom deriv'd:
Hence, with thy health, the weeping world re-
Proceed to emulate thy race divine:
A life of action, and of praise be thine.
Affert the titles genuine to thy blood,
By nature, daring; but by reafon, good.
So great, fo glorious thy forefathers fhone,
No ion of theirs muft hope to live unknown:
Their deeds will place thy virtue full in fight;
Thy vice, if vice thou haft, in ftronger light.

Prefented to the Prince of Orange, on his vifiting If to thy fair beginnings nobly true,

Oxford,

IN THE YEAR M,DCC,XXXIV.

RECEIVE, lov'd prince, the tribute of our praise,
This hafty welcome, in unfinish'd lays.
At best, the pomp of fong, the paint of art,
Difplay the genius, but not fpeak the heart;
And oft, as ornament must truth supply,
Are but the fplendid colouring of a lie.
These need not here; for to a foul like thine,
Truth, plain and fimple, will more lovely shine.
The truely good but with the verfe fincere:
They court no flattery, who no cenfure fear.

Such Naffau is, the faireft, gentleft mind,
In blooming youth the Titus of mankind,
Crowds, who to hail thy with'd appearance ran,
Forgot the prince, to praife and love the man.
Such fenfe with fweetness,grandeurmix'd witheafe!
Our nobler youth will learn of thee to please:

{viv'd:

[de:

Think what the world may claim, and thou must
The honours, that already grace thy name,
Have fixt thy choice, and force thee into fame.
Ev'n fhe, bright Anna, whom thy worth has won,
Infpires thee what to feek and what to thun :
Rich in all outward grace, th' exalted fair
Makes the foul's beauty her peculiar care.
O, be your nuptials crown'd with glad increase
Of fon's in war renown'd, and great in peace;
Of daughters, fair and faithful, to fupply
The patriot-race, till nature's self shall die!

ORIGINAL COPY

Of the verfes occafioned by Dr. Frazer's rebuilding part
of the Univerfity of Aberdeen.

In ancient times, ere wealth was learning's foe,
And dar'd defpife the worth, he would not know;
Ere ignorance look'd lofty in a peer,

And imil'd at wit, caft back in fortune's rear,
The pious prelate †, truly good, and great,
Friend to inftructive arts, he knew to prize,
Courted the mufes to this happy feat;
His bounty bade the mighty pile arife.
Splendour adorn'd what knowing skill defign'd,
And the fair structure spoke his noble mind.

*Bath. + Biftep Elphinfien.