The poetical works: of Thomas Gray. With the life of the author. Cooke's edition. Embellished with superb engravings.

THE LIFE OF THOMAS GRAY.

THOMAS GRAY was born in Cornhill, in the city of London, on the 26th of December, 1716. His father, Philip Gray, was a money-scrivener; but being of an indolent and profuse disposition, he rather diminished than improved his paternal fortune. Our Author received his classical education at Eton school, under Mr. Antrobus, his mother's brother, a man of sound learning and refined taste, who directed his nephew to those pursuits which laid the foundation of his future literary fame.

During his continuance at Eton, he contracted a friendship with Mr. Horace Walpole, well known for his knowledge in the fine arts; and Mr. Richard West, son of the Lord Chancellor of Ireland, a youth of very promising talents.

When he left Eton school in 1734, he went to Cambridge, and entered a pensioner at Peterhouse, at the recommendation of his uncle Antrobus, who had been a fellow of that college. It is said that, from his effeminacy and fair complexion, he acquired, among his fellow students, the appellation of Miss Gray, to which the delicacy of his manners seems not a little to have contributed. Mr. Walpole was at that time a fellow-commoner of King's College, in the same University; a fortunate circumstance, which af|forded Gray frequent opportunities of intercourse with his Honourable Friend.

Mr. West went from Eton to Christ Church. Ox|ford; and in this state of separation, these two vo|taries of the Muses, whose dispositions were conge|nial, commenced an epistolary correspondence, part of which is published by Mr. Mason, a gentleman whose character stands high in the republic of letters.

Gray, having imbibed a taste for poetry, did not relish those abstruse studies which generally occupy the minds of students at College; and therefore, as he found very little gratification from academical pursuits, he left Cambridge in 1738, and returned to London, intending to apply himself to the study of the law: but this intention was soon laid aside, upon an invita|tion given him by Mr. Walpole, to accompany him in his travels abroad; a situation highly preferable, in Gray's opinion, to the dry study of the law.

They set out together for France, and visited most of the places worthy of notice in that country: from thence they proceeded to Italy, where an unfortunate dispute taking place between them, a separation ensued upon their arrival at Florence. Mr. Walpole after|wards, with great candour and liberality, took upon himself the blame of the quarrel; though, if we consider the matter coolly and impartially, we may be induced to conclude that Gray, from a conscious su|periority of ability, might have claimed a deference to his opinion and judgment, which his Honourable Friend was not at that time disposed to admit: the rupture, however, was very unpleasant to both par|ties.

Gray pursued his journey to Venice on an economic plan, suitable to the circumscribed state of his finan|ces; and having continued there some weeks, returned to England in September, 1741. He appears, from his letters, published by Mr. Mason, to have paid the minutest attention to every object worthy of notice throughout the course of his travels. His descriptions are lively and picturesque, and bear particular marks of his genius and disposition. We admire the sub|limity of his ideas when he ascends the stupendous heights of the Alps, and are charmed with his display of nature, decked in all the beauties of vegetation. Indeed, abundant information, as well as entertain|ment, may be derived from his casual letters.

In about two months after his arrival in England, he lost his father, who, by an indiscreet profusion, had so impaired his fortune, as not to admit of his son's prosecuting the study of the law with that degree of respectability which the nature of the profession re|quires, without becoming burthensome to his mother and aunt. To obviate, therefore, their importunities on the subject, he went to Cambridge, and took his bachelor's degree in civil law.

But the inconveniencies and distress attached to a scanty fortune were not the only ills our Poet had to encounter at this time: he had not only lost the friend|ship of Mr. Walpole abroad, but poor West, the partner of his heart, fell a victim to complicated ma|ladies, brought on by family misfortunes, on the 1st of June, 1742, at Popes, a village, in Hertfordshire, where he went for the benefit of the air.

The excessive degree in which his mind was agita|ted for the loss of his friend, will best appear from the following beautiful little sonnet:

" In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, " And redd'ning Poebus lifts his go••den fire: " The birds in ••ain their am'rous descant join, " Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: " These ears, alas! for other notes repine; " A different object do these eyes require; " My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine, " And in my breast th' imperfect joys expire; " Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, " And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; " The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; " To warn their little loves the birds comp••ain: " I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear; " And weep the more, because I weep in vain.'

Mr. Gray now seems to have applied his mind very sedulously to poetical composition: his Ode to Spring was written early in June, to his friend Mr. West, before he received the melancholy news of his death: how our Poet's susceptible mind was affected by that melancholy incident, is evidently demonstrated by the lines quoted above; the impression, indeed, appears

to have been too deep to be soon effaced; and the te|nour of the subjects which called for the exertions of his poetical talents subsequent to the production of this Ode, corroborates that observation; these were his Prospect of Eton, and his Ode to Adversity. It is also supposed, and with great probability, that he began his Elegy in a Country Church Yard about the same time. He passed some weeks at Stoke, near Windsor, where his mother and aunt resided, and in that pleasing retirement finished several of his most celebrated Poems.

From thence he returned to Cambridge, which, from this period, was his chief residence during the remainder of his life. The conveniencies with which a college life was attended, to a person of his narrow fortune, and studious turn of mind, were more than a compensation for the dislike which, for several rea|sons, he bore to the place: but he was perfectly re|conciled to his situation, on Mr. Mason's being elected a fellow of Pembroke-Hall; a circumstance which brought him a companion, who, during life, re|tained for him the highest degree of friendship and esteem.

In 1742 he was admittted to the degree of Batchelor in the Civil Law, as appears from a letter written to his particular friend Dr. Wharton, of Old Park, near Durham, formerly fellow of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, in which he ridicules, with much point and humour, the ••••••lies and foibles, and the dullness and formality, which prevailed in the University.

In order to enrich his mind with the ideas of others, he devoted a considerable portion of his time to the study of the best Greek authors; so that, in the course or six years, there were hardly any writers of emi|nence in that language whose works he had not only read, but thoroughly digested.

His attention, however, to the Greek classics, did not wholly engross his time; for he found leisure

to advert, in a new sarcastical manner, to the igno|rance and dullness with which he was surrounded, though situated in the centre of learning. There is only a fragment remaining of what he had written on this subject, from which it may be inferred, that it was intended as an Hymn to Ignorance. The fragment is wholly introductory; yet many of the lines are so pointed in signification, and harmonious in versifica|tion, that they will be admitted, by the admirers of verse, to display his poetical talents with more bril|liancy than appears in many of his lyric productions.

Hail, horrors, hail! ye ever gloomy bowers, Ye Gothic fanes, and antiquated towers! Where rushy Camus' slowly-winding flood Perpetual draws his humid train of mud: Glad I revisit thy neglected reign: Oh, take me to thy peaceful shade again: But chiefly thee, whose influence, breath'd from high, Augments the native darkness of the sky. Ah, Ignorance! soft, salutary power! Prostrate with filial reverence I adore. Thrice hath Hyperion roll'd his annual race, Since weeping I forsook thy fond embrace. Oh, say, successful dost thou still oppose, Thy leaden Aegis 'gainst our ancient foes? Still stretch, tenacious of thy right divine, The massy sceptre o'er thy slumbering line? And dews Lethean through the land dispense, To steep in slumbers each benighted sense? If any spark of wit's delusive ray Break out, and flash a momentary day, With damp, cold touch forbid it to aspire, And huddle up in fogs the dangerous fire. Oh, say—She hears me not, but, careless grown, Lethargic nods upon her ebon throne. Goddess! awake, arise; alas! my fears; Can powers immortal feel the force of years? Not thus of old, with ensigns wide unfurl'd, She rode triumphant o'er the vanquish'd world: Fierce nations own'd her unresisted might; And all was ignorance, and all was night; Oh sacred age! Oh times for ever lost! (The schoolman's glory, and the churchman's boast,) For ever gone—yet still to fancy new, Her rapid wings the transient scene pursue, And bring the buried ages back to view. High on her car, behold the grandam ride, Like old Sefostris with barbaric pride; ***** a team of harness'd monarchs' bend*****

In 1744 he seems to have given up his attention to the Muses. Mr. Walpole, desirous of preserving what he had already written, as well as perpetuating the merit of their deceased friend, West, endea|voured to prevail with Gray, to whom he had previ|ously become reconciled, to publish his own Poems, together with those of West; but Gray declined it, conceiving their productions united would not suffice to fill even a small volume.

In 1747 Gray became acquainted with Mr. Mason, then a scholar of St. John's College, and afterwards Fellow of Pembroke Hall. Mr. Mason, who was a man of great learning and ingenuity, had written, the year before, his "Monody on the Death of Pope," and his "II Bellicoso," and "Il Pacifico;" and Gray revised these pieces at the request of a friend. This laid the foundation of a friendship that terminated but with life: and Mr. Mason, after the death of Gray, testified his regard for him, by superintending the publication of his works.

The same year he wrote a little Ode on the Death of a favourite Cat of Mr. Walpole's, in which hu|mour and instruction are happily blended: but the fol|lowing year he produced an effort of much more im|portance; the Fragment of an Essay on the Alliance of Education and Government. Its tendency was to de|monstrate the necessary concurrence of both to form great and useful Men. It opens with the two follow|ing similies. The exordium is rather uncommon; but he seems to have adopted it as a kind of clue to the subject he meant to pursue in the subsequent part of the Poem.

As sickly plants betray a niggard earth, Whose barren bosom starves her gen'rous birth, Nor genial warmth nor genial juice retains, Their roots to feed and fill their verdant veins; And as in climes, where Winter holds his reign, The soil, tho' fertile, will not teem in vain, Forbids her gems to swell, her shades to rise, Nor trusts her blossoms to the charlish skies; So draw mankind in vain the vital airs, Unform'd, unfriended, by those kindly cares

That health and vigour to the soul impart, Spread the young thought, and warm the op'ning heart; so fond instruction on the growing pow'rs Of Nature idly lavishes her stores, If equal Justice, with unclouded face, Smile not indulgent on the rising race, And scatter with a free, tho' frugal hand, Light golden show'rs of plenty o'er the land: But Tyranny has fix'd her empire there, To check their tender hopes with chilling fear, And blast the blooming promise of the year.

This spacious animated scene survey, From where the rolling orb, that gives the day, His sable sons with nearer course surrounds To either pole and life's remotest bounds; How rude soe'er th' exterior form we find, Howe'er opinion tinge the vary'd mind, Alike to all the kind impartial Heav'n The sparks of truth and happiness has given; With sense to feel, with mem'ry to retain, They follow pleasure and they fly from pain; Their judgment mends the plan their fancy draws, Th' event presages and explores the cause: The soft returns of gratitude they know, By fraud elude, by force repel, the foe; While mutual wishes mutual woes endear, The social smile and sympathetic tear.

Say, then, thro' ages by what fate confin'd To diff'rent climes seem diff'rent souls assign'd; Here measur'd laws and philosophic ease Fix and improve the polish'd arts of peace; There Industry and Gain their vigils keep, Command the winds and tame th' unwilling deep: Here force and hardy deeds of blood prevail, There languid Pleasure sighs in ev'ry gale. Oft' o'er the trembling nations from afar Has Scythia breath'd the living cloud of war; And where the deluge burst with sweepy sway, Their arms, their kings, their gods, were roll'd away: As oft' have issu'd, host impelling host, The blue-ey'd myriads from the Baltic coast; The prostrate South to the destroyer yields Her boasted titles and her golden fields: With grim delight the brood of Winter view A brighter day, and heav'ns of azure hue, Scent the new fragrance of the breathing rose, And quaff the pendent vintage as it grows. Proud of the yoke, and pliant to the rod, Why yet does Asia dread a monarch's nod, While European freedom still withstands Th' encreaching tide that drowns her less'ning lands, And sees far off, with an indignant groan, Her native plains and empires once her own? Can op'ner skies, and sons of fiercer flame, O'erpower the fire that animates our frame; As lamps, that shed at eve a cheerful ray, Fade and expire beneath the eye of day?

Need we the influence of the northern star To string our nerves and steel our hearts to war? And where the face of Nature laughs around, Must sick'ning Virtue fly the tainted ground? Unmanly thought! what seasons can controul, What fancy'd zone can circumscribe, the soul, Who, conscious of the source from whence she springs, By Reason's light, on Resolution's wings, Spite of her frail companion, dauntless goes O'er Lybia's deserts and thro' Zembla's snows? She bids each slumb'ring energy awake, Another touch another temper take, Suspends th' inferior laws that rule our clay; The stubborn elements confess her sway; Their little wants their low desires refine, And raise the mortal to a height divine.

Not but the human fabric from the birth Imbibes a flavour of its parent earth; As various tracts enforce a various toil, The manners speak the idiom of their soil. An iron race the mountain-cliffs maintain, Foes to the gentler genius of the plain; For where unweary'd sinews must be found With side-long plough to quell the flinty ground, To turn the torrent's swift-descending flood, To brave the savage rushing from the wood, What wonder if, to patient valour train'd, They guard with spirit what by strength they gain'd? And while their rocky ramparts round they see, The rough abode of Want and Liberty, (As lawless force from confidence will grow) Insult the plenty of the vales below? What wonder in the sultry climes, that spread Where Nile, redundant o'er his summer-bed, From his broad bosom life and verdure flings, And broods o'er Aegypt, with his wat'ry wings, If, with advent'rous oar and ready sail, The dusky people drive before the gale, Or on frail floats to neighbouring cities ride, That rise and glitter o'er the ambient tide?

It is much to be lamented that our Author did not finish what was so successfully begun, as the Fragment is deemed superior to every thing in the same style of writing which our language can boast.

In 1750 he put his finishing stroke to his Elegy writ|ten in a Country Church-yard, which was communi|cated first to his friend Mr. Walpole, and by him to many persons of rank and distinction. This beauti|ful production introduced the author to the favour of Lady Cobham, and gave occasion to a singular compo|sition,

called, A Long Story; in which various effu|sions of wit and humour are very happily interspersed.

The Elegy having found its way into the "Maga|zine of Magazines," the Author wrote to Mr. Wal|pole, requesting he would put it into the hands of Mr. Dodsley, and order him to print it immediately, in order to rescue it from the disgrace it might have in|curred by its appearance in a Magazine. The Elegy was the most popular of all our Author's productions; it ran through eleven editions, and was translated into Latin by Anstey and Roberts; and in the same year a version of it was published by Lloyd. Mr. Bentley, an eminent Artist of that time, wishing to decorate this elegant composition with every ornament of which it is so highly deserving, drew for it a set of designs, as he also did for the rest of Gray's produc|tions, for which the artist was liberally repaid by the Author in some beautiful Stanzas, but unfortunately no perfect copy of them remains. The following, however, are given as a specimen:

" In silent gaze the tuneful choir among, " Half pleas'd, half blushing, let the muse admire, " While Bentley leads her sister art along, " And bids the pencil answer to the lyre.

" See, in their course, each transitory thought, " Fix'd by his touch, a lasting essence take; " Each dream, in fancy's airy colouring wrought, " To local symmetry and life awake!

" The tardy rhymes, that us'd to linger on, " To censure cold, and negligent or fame; " In swifter measures animated run, " And catch a lustre from his genuine flame.

" Ah! could they catch his strength, his easy grace, " His quick creation, his unerring line; " The energy of Pope they might efface, " And Dryden's harmony submit to mine.

" But not to one in this benighted age " Is that diviner inspiration giv'n, " That burns in Shakesocar's or in Milton's page, " The pomp and prod••gality of heav'n.

" As when conspiring in the di'mond's blaze, " The meaner gems, that singly charm the sight, " Together dart their intermingled rays, " And dazzle with a luxury of light.

" Enough for me, if to some feeling breast " My lines a secret sympathy impart, " And, as their pleasing influence flows confess'd, " A sigh of soft reflection heave the heart."

It appears, by a letter to Dr. Wharton, that Gray finished his Ode on the Progress of Poetry early in 1755. The Bard also was begun about the same time; and the following beautiful Fragment on the Pleasure ari|sing from Vicissitude the next year. The merit of the two former pieces was not immediately perceived, nor generally acknowledged. Garrick wrote a few lines in their praise. Lloyd and Colman wrote, in concert, two Odes to "Oblivion" and "Obscurity," in which they were ridiculed with much ingenuity.

" Now the golden morn aloft " Waves her dew-bespangled wing, " With vermil cheek, and whisper soft, " She wooes the tardy spring; " Till April starts, and calls around " The sleeping fragrance from the ground, " And lightly o'er the living scene " Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.

" New born flocks, in rustic dance, " Frisking ply their feeble feet; " Forgetful of their wint'ry trance, " The birds his presence greet: " But chief the skylark warb••es high " His trembling, thrilling extacy; " And, lessening from the dazzled sight, " Melts into air and liquid light.

" Yesterday the sullen year " Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; " Mute was the music of the air, " The herd stood drooping by: " Their raptures now, that wildly flow, " No yesterday nor morrow know; " 'Tis man alone that joy descries " With forward and reverted eyes.

" Smiles on past misfortune's brow " Soft reflection's hand can trace, " And o'er the check of sorrow throw " A melancholy grace:

" While hope prolongs our happier hour; " Or deepest shades, that dimly lower, " And blacken round our weary way, " Gilds with a gleam of distant day.

" Still where rosy pleasure leads, " See a kindred grief pursue, " Behind the steps that misery treads " Approaching comfort view: " The hues of bliss more brightly glow, " Chastiz'd by sabler tints of woe; " And blended form, with artf••l strife, " The strength and harmony of life.

" See the wretch, that long has tost " On the thorny bed of Pain, " At length repair his vigour lost, " And breathe and walk again. " The meanest flow'ret of the vale, " The simplest note that swells the gale, " The common sun, the air, the skies, " To him are opening Paradise."

Our Author's reputation, as a Poet, was so high, that, on the death of Colley Cibber, in 1757, he had the honour of refusing the office of Poet-Laureat, to which he was probably induced by the disgrace brought upon it through the inability of some who had filled it.

His curiosity some time after drew him away from Cambridge to a lodging near the British Museum, where he resided near three years, reading and tran|scribing.

In 1762, on the death of Mr. Turner, Professor of Modern Languages and History at Cambridge, he was, according to his own expression, "cockered and spirited up" to apply to Lord Bute for the succession. His Lordship refused him with all the politeness of a courtier, the office having been previously promised to Mr. Brocket, the tutor of Sir James Lowther.

His health being on the decline, in 1765 he under|took a journey to Scotland, conceiving he should de|rive benefit from exercise and change of situation. His account of that country, as far as it extends, is curious and elegant; for as his mind was comprehen|sive, it was employed in the contemplation of all the

works of art, all the appearances of nature, and all the monuments of past events.

During his stay in Scotland, he contracted a friend|ship with Dr. Beattie, in whom he found, as he him|self expresses it, a poet, a philosopher, and a good man. Through the intervention of his friend the Doctor, the Marischal College at Aberdeen offered him the degree of Doctor of Laws, which he thought it decent to decline, having omitted to take it at Cambridge.

In December, 1767, Dr. Beattie, still desirous that his country should leave a memento of its regard to the merit of our Poet, solicited his permission to print, at the University of Glasgow, an elegant edi|tion of his works. Gray could not comply with his friend's request, as he had given his promise to Mr. Dodsley. However, as a compliment to them both, he presented them with a copy, containing a few notes, and the imitations of the old Norwegian poetry, intended to supplant the Long Story, which was printed at first to illustrate Mr. Bentley's designs.

In 1768 our Author obtained that office without solicitation, for which he had before applied without effect. The Professorship of Languages and History again became vacant, and he received an offer of it from the Duke of Grafton, who had succeeded Lord Bute in office. The place was valuable in itself, the salary being 400l. a year; but it was rendered peculi|arly acceptable to Mr. Gray, as he obtained it with|out solicitation.

Soon after he succeeded to this office, the impaired state of his health rendered another journey necessary; and he visited, in 1769, the counties of Westmoreland and Cumberland. His remarks on the wonderful scenery which these northern regions display, he trans|mitted in epistolary journals to his friend, Dr. Whar|ton, which abound, according to Mr. Mason's elegant

diction, with all the wildness of Salvator, and the softness of Claude.

He appears to have been much affected by the anxiety he felt at holding a place without discharging the du|ties annexed to it. He had always designed reading lectures, but never put it in practice; and a consci|ousness of this neglect contributed not a little to in|crease the malady under which he had long laboured: nay, the office at length became so irksome, that he seriously proposed to resign it.

Towards the close of May, 1771, he removed from Cambridge to London, after having suffered violent attacks of an hereditary gout, to which he had long been subject, notwithstanding he had observed the most rigid abstemiousness throughout the whole course of his life. By the advice of his physicians, he removed from London to Kensington; the air of which place proved so salutary, that he was soon enabled to return to Cambridge, whence he designed to make a visit to his friend Dr. Wharton, at Old Park, near Durham; indulging a fond hope that the excursion would tend to the re-establishment of his health: but, alas! that hope proved delusive. On the 24th of July he was seized, while at dinner in the College hall, with a sud|den nausea, which obliged him to retire to his cham|ber. The gout had fixed on his stomach in such a degree as to resist all the powers of medicine. On the 29th he was attacked with a strong convulsion, which returned with increased violence the ensuing day; and on the evening of the ••••st of May, 177••, he departed this life in the 55th year of his age.

From the narrative of his friend, Mr. Mason, it appears, that Gray was actuated by motives of self improvement, and self gratification, in his application to the Muses, rather than any view to pecuniary emo|lument. His pursuits were in general disinterested; and as he was free from avarice on the one hand, so was he from extravagance on the other; being one of

those few characters in the annals of literature, espe|cially in the poetical class, who are devoid of self in|terest, and at the same time attentive to economy; but Mr. Mason adds, that he was induced to decline tak|ing any advantage of his literary productions by a de|gree of pride, which influenced him to disdain the idea of being thought an author by profession.

It appears, from the same narrative, that Gray made considerable progress in the study of architecture, particularly the gothic. He endeavoured to trace this branch of the science, from the period of its com|mencement, through its various changes, till it ar|rived at its perfection in the time of Henry VIII. He applied himself also to the study of heraldry, of which he obtained a very competent knowledge, as appears from his Remarks on Saxon Churches, in the introduction to Mr. Bentham's History of Ely.

But the favourite study of Gray, for the last two years of his life, was natural history, which he rather resumed than began, as he had acquired some know|ledge of botany in early life, while he was under the tuition of his uncle Antrobus. He wrote copious marginal notes to the works of Linnaeus, and other writers in the three kingdoms of nature: and Mr. Mason further observes, that, excepting pure mathe|matics, and the studies dependent on that science, there was hardly any part of human learning in which he had not acquired a competent skill; in most of them a consummate mastery.

Mr. Mason has declined drawing any formal charac|ter of him; but has adopted one from a letter to James Boswell, Esq. by the Rev. Mr. Temple, Rec|tor of St. Gluvias, in Cornwall, first printed anony|mously in the London Magazine, which, as we con|ceive authentic, from the sanction of Mr. Mason, we shall therefore transcribe.

Perhaps he was the most learned man in Europe. He was equally acquainted with the elegant and pro|found parts of science, and that not superficially, but

thoroughly. He knew every branch of history, both natural and civil; had read all the original historians of England, France, and Italy; and was a great anti|quarian. Criticism, metaphysics, morals, and politics, made a principal part of his study; voyages and tra|vels of all sorts were his favourite amusements; and he had a fine taste in painting, prints, architecture, and gardening. With such a fund of knowledge, his conversation must have been equally instructive and entertaining; but he was also a good man, a man of virtue and humanity. There is no character without some speck, some imperfection; and I think the greatest defect in his was an affectation in delicacy, or rather effeminacy, and a visible fastidiousness, or contempt and disdain of his inferiors in science. He also had, in some degree, that weakness which disgusted Voltaire so much in Mr. Congreve: though he seemed to value others chiefly according to the progress they had made in knowledge, yet he could not bear to be considered himself merely as a man of letters; and though with|out birth, or fortune, or station, his desire was to be looked upon as a private independent gentleman, who read for his amusement. Perhaps it may be said, What signifies so much knowledge, when it produced so little? Is it worth taking so much pains to leave no memorial but a few Poems? But let it be considered that Mr. Gray was, to others, at least innocently employed; to himself, certainly beneficially. His time passed agreeably; he was every day making some new ac|quisition in science; his mind was enlarged, his heart softened, his virtue strengthened; the world and man|kind were shewn to him without a mask; and he was taught to consider every thing as trifling, and unworthy of the attention of a wise man, except the pursuit of knowledge and practice of virtue, in that state wherein God hath placed us.

In addition to this character, Mr. Mason has re|marked, that Gray's effeminacy was affected most

before those whom he did not wish to please; and that he is unjustly charged with making knowledge his sole reason of preference, as he paid his esteem to none whom he did not likewise believe to be good.

Dr. Johnson makes the following observations:—

What has occurred to me, from the slight inspection of his letters, in which my undertaking has engaged me, is, that his mind had a large grasp; that his curiosity was unlimited, and his judgment cultivated; that he was a man likely to love much where he loved at all, but that he was fastidious, and hard to please. His contempt, however, is often employed, where I hope it will be approved, upon scepticism and inside|lity. His short account of Shaftesbury I will insert.

You say you cannot conceive how lord Shastes|bury came to be a philosopher in vogue; I will tell you: first, he was a lord; secondly, he was as vain as any of his readers; thirdly, men are very prone to believe what they do not understand; fourthly, they will believe any thing at all, provided they are under no obligation to believe it; fifthly, they love to take a new road, even when that road leads no where; sixthly, he was reckoned a fine writer, and seems al|ways to mean more than he said. Would you have any more reasons? An interval of above forty years has pretty well destroyed the charm. A dead lord ranks with commoners: vanity is no longer interested in the matter; for a new road is become an old one.

As a writer he had this peculiarity, that he did not write his pieces first rudely, and then correct them, but laboured every line as it arose in the train of com|position; and he had a notion not very peculiar, that he could not write but at certain times, or at happy moments; a fantastic foppery, to which our kindness for a man of learning and of virtue wishes him to have been superior.

As a Poet he stands high in the estimation of the candid and judicious. His works are not numerous;

but they bear the marks of intense application, and careful revision. The Elegy in the Churchyard is deemed his master-piece; the subject is interesting, the sentiment simple and pathetic, and the versification charmingly melodious. This beautiful composition has been often selected by orators for the display of their rhetorical talents. But as the most finished pro|ductions of the human mind have not escaped censure, the works of our Author have undergone illiberal comments. His Elegy has been supposed defective in want of plan. Dr. Knox, in his Essays, has ob|served,

that it is thought by some to be no more than a confused heap of splendid ideas, thrown toge|ther without order and without proportion.

Some passages have been censured by Kelly in the Babbler; and imitations of different authors have been pointed out by other critics. But these imitations cannot be ascertained, as there are numberless instances of coin|cidence of ideas; so that it is difficult to say, with pre|cision, what is or is not a designed or accidental imitation.

Gray, in his Elegy in the Church-yard, has great merit in adverting to the most interesting passions of the human mind; yet his genius is not marked alone by the tender sensibility so conspicuous in that elegant piece; but there is a sublimity which gives it an equal claim to universal admiration.

His Odes on The Progress of Poetry, and of The Bard, according to Mr. Mason's account,

breathe the high spirit of lyric enthusiasm. The transitions are sudden and impetuous; the language full of fire and force; and the imagery carried, without impro|priety, to the most daring height. They have been accused of obscurity: but the one can be obscure to those only who have not read Pindar; and the other only to those who are unacquainted with the history of our own nation.

Of his other lyric pieces, Mr. Wakefield, a learned and ingenious commentator, observes, that, though,

like all other human productions, they are not with|out their defects, yet the spirit of poetry, and exqui|site charms of the verse, are more then a compensation for those defects. The Ode on Eton College abounds with sentiments natural, and consonant to the feelings of humanity, exhibited with perspicuity of method, and in elegant, intelligible, and expressive language. The Sonnet on the Death of West, and the Epitaph on Sir William Williams, are as perfect compositions of the kind as any in our language.

Dr. Johnson was confessedly a man of great genius; but the partial and uncandid mode of criticism he has adopted in his remarks on the writings of Gray, has given to liberal minds great and just offence. Ac|cording to Mr. Mason's account, he has subjected Gray's poetry to the most rigorous examination. De|clining all consideration of the general plan and con|duct of the pieces, he has confined himself solely to strictures on words and forms of expression; and Mr. Mason very pertinently adds, that verbal criticism is an ordeal which the most perfect composition cannot pass without injury.

He has also fallen under Mr. Wakefield's severest censure. This commentator affirms, that

he thinks a refutation of his strictures upon Gray a necessary service to the public, without which they might ope|rate with a malignant influence upon the national taste. His censure, however, is too general, and expressed with too much vehemence; and his remarks betray, upon the whole, an unreasonable fastidiousness of taste, and an unbecoming illiberality of spirit. He appears to have turned an unwilling eye upon the beauties of Gray, because his jealousy would not suffer him to see such superlative merit in a cotemporary.

These remarks of Mr. Wakefield appear to be well founded; and it has been observed, by another writer, that Dr. Johnson, being strongly influenced by his politi|cal and religious principles, was inclined to treat with

the utmost severity some of the productions of our best writers; to which may be imputed that severity with which he censures the lyric performances of Gray. It is highly probable that no one poetical reader will universally subscribe to his decisions, though all may admire his vast intuitive knowledge, and power of discrimination.

In the first copy of this exquisite Poem, Mr. Mason observes, the conclusion was different from that which the Author afterwards composed; and though his after-thought was unquestionably the best, yet there is a pathetic melancholy in the four stanzas that were rejected, following, "With incense kindled at the Muses' flame," which highly claim preservation.

The thoughtless wor'd to Majesty may bow, Exalt the brave, and idolize success; But more to innocence their safety owe, Than pow'r or genius e'er conspir'd to bless.

And thou who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dust in the••e notes their artless tale relate, By night and lonely contemplation led, To wander in the gloomy walks of fate,

Hark! how the sacred calm, that breathes around, Bids every fierce tumultuous passion. cease; In still small accents whispering from the ground, A grateful earnest of eternal peace.

No more, with reason and thyself at strife, Give a••xious cares and endless wishes room; But, throu••h the cool sequester'd vale of life, Pursue the silent tenor or thy doom.

In one instance, the Doctor's inconsistency, and de|viation from his general character, does him honour. After having commented with the most rigid severity on the poetical works of Gray, as it conscious of the injustice done him, he seems to apologize by the fol|lowing declaration, which concludes his Criticism, and shall conclude the Memoirs of our Author.

In the character of his Elegy (says Johnson) I rejoice and concur with the common reader; for, by the common sense of readers, uncorrupted with literary

prejudices, after all the refinements of subtilty, and the dogmatism of learning, must be finally decided all claim to poetical honours. The Church-yard abounds with images which find a mirror in every mind, and with sentiments to which every bosom returns an echo. The four stanzas beginning, Yet e'en these bones are to me original; I have never seen the notions in any other place; yet he that reads them here, persuades himself that he has always felt them. Had Gray written often thus, it had been vain to blame, and useless to praise him.