the poet. What then can be more beautiful, more happy, than his following figures of Death ?

"A dead man's skull supplied his helmet's place,
A bone his club, his armour sheets of lead;
Some more, some less, fear his all-fright'ning face,
But most, who sleep in downy pleasure's bed."

His Hope, too, is so glowingly poetical, that, though long, I cannot but extract it.

"Next went Elpinus, clad in sky-like blue,

And through his arms few stars did seem to peep,
Which there the workman's hand so finely drew,
That, rocked in clouds, they softly seemed to sleep:
His rugged shield was like a rocky mould,

On which an anchor bit with surest hold,
'I hold by being held,' was written round in gold.

Nothing so cheerful was his thoughtful face,

As was his brother Fido's :—fear seemed to dwell
Close by his heart: his colour changed apace,
And went and came, that sure all was not well:
Therefore a comely maid did oft sustain

His fainting steps, and fleeting life maintain :
Pollicita she hight, which ne'er could lie or feign."

The representing his fainting steps as supported by the beautiful maid Promise, is particularly correct and felicitous. It is true this picture cannot vie with the one drawn by Collins, "But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair," &c.-but Collins' touches are all exquisite, and ever soar far beyond competition; yet, it is no mean praise that Fletcher stands second in a path that all have trod. Spen

ser's "Hope," though beautiful, is very much inferior; and for Cowley's, which Johnson so much praises, it cannot be read but with disgust after this.

To extract all the beautiful passages which this poem contains, would be to fill a far larger portion of paper than you, Mr. Editor, would be willing to allow me; I shall, therefore, content myself with recommending to the reader's particular attention, the rich aud exquisite delineations of Faith, Fear, Envy, and Mercy; many more there are beautiful, but these, in my opinion, are prominently so. On his nice judgment, in allotting to the various combatants their fit opponents, too great praise cannot be bestowed; thus, as an instance, Fear is made to attack Hope, who, when about to sink, is relieved by Faith: one example will suffice; all is equally chaste. Nor does the poem reflect less credit on his heart than head; he imitates Spenser, and he is not ashamed to avow it; he gives him continually the warmest tributes of gratitude, and declares that, but to lacky him, " is all his pride's aspiring." How different this from the conduct of the Dean of St. Patrick; Swift, though he owes so much to the author of " Hudibras," never once in his verse even mentions his name! The sentiments and images of Phineas Fletcher, breathe, likewise, the purest strain of fervid piety; his indignation of vice is warm and honest; his praise of virtue, innocence, and peace, such as proclaims

him to have known their value, and to have possessed them this, indeed, is the character handed down of him by his contemporaries; to use a figure of Mrs. Klopstock's, he was in every relation of life, what he is in every relation of poetry; but let him speak for himself,—the passage is too long to quote, but the reader who will turn to Canto I. Stanza xxvi. et seq. will be well repaid for his trouble by the most beautiful sentiments and poetry.

It is no slight praise, also, for Phineas Fletcher, that, living in an age when conceit was so prevalent, when the works of Donne, or Quarles, and of Jonson, overflowed with it; and possessed as he was both of sufficient invention and learning, to have shone in the metaphysical school, he was blessed with so pure a taste and excellent judgment, as to turn from these, to relish the simpler beauty and more genuine poetry of Spenser. That a few conceits should disfigure his works, was, however, to have been expected; for it was impossible to dwell in the very vortex without being rendered a little giddy; and, consequently, a few-but very few-there are. I recollect but two in his "Purple Island ;" the one is, when speaking of the creation, he says, that, at the command of God, "first stept the light," and then, he very unnecessarily adds,—"not that he meant to help his feeble sight to frame the rest:" another, when in speaking of Orpheus playing, he observes

that Charon's boat, at the sound of the music, "came dancing o'er the moat;" but these are "like rocky islands in a sunny main,-like spots of cloud amid an azure sky;" his beauties had more than compensated a thousand of such faults. Another testimony to the merit of Fletcher's poetry is, that Milton and Pope have both paid him the compliment of borrowing from him; only in insulated expressions 'tis true, but still this is a proof that they read and that they valued him. Milton's "shapeless shapes," "imparadised," "flaggy soils," and many other remarkable turns of expression may be traced to this source; it is also very probable that he took his idea of Sin and Death creeping from the mouth of Error from Phineas Fletcher, Canto 12th. St. xxvii., where he says, "The first that crept from his detested maw was Sin, a foul deformed wight," &c.; and his description of her as half woman, half serpent, is precisely the same. Milton's better to "reign in hell than serve in heaven," is also very like Fletcher's "in heaven they scorned to serve, so now in hell they reign." Pope, in his Eloisa to Abelard, has

"See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll,

Suck my

last breath, and catch my flying soul." And Phineas Fletcher, in his beautiful Elegy on Eliza,

"And by his side, sucking his fleeting breath,

His weeping spouse Eliza."

What Pope also calls "damning with faint praise,"

may owe its origin to part of Fletcher's description of Envy. He says of him very happily

“When needs he must, yet faintly, then he praises,—

Somewhat the deed, much more the means he raises: So marreth what he makes, and praising most, dispraises." In the following too may be traced a strong similarity to a well-known couplet of Dr. Sewel's— "He is as cowardly

That longer fears to live, as he that fears to die."

But I have already, I fear, extended my remarks to too great a length. I will therefore now conclude with offering a humble tribute to the memory of a poet, from the perusal of whose works I have received very exquisite gratification. It is necessary to inform my readers that I have attempted in the following verses to imitate the style of the bard I address. The allusions which occur in them are to passages in his poem; Colin, it is hardly necessary to observe, is his great prototypeSpenser.

IMITATION OF PHINEAS FLETCHER.

Forgive me, Fletcher! if I dare presume

In my weak verse thy matchless flights to praise,Such praise on thy strong light but throws a gloom,

And serves to lower more thy fame than raise ;