come information you had given, that Mr Wyatt liked me a little. Assure yourself I like him a great deal more than a little. There's fine style for you! Next to benevolent Virtue, thou Genius, art my earthly divinity. To thy votaries, in every line, I look up with an awe-mixed pleasure which it is delicious to feel.

When he was first introduced to me, the glories of our Pantheon rushing on my recollection, my heart beat like a love-sick girl's, on the sight of her inamorato ;

"A different cause, says Parson Sly,

The same effect may give."

I am glad you like Hayley's countenance. How have I seen those fine eyes of his sparkle, and melt, and glow, as wit, compassion, or imagination had the ascendance in his mind!

Mrs Hardinge seems to have as much wit as yourself; the conversational ball must be admirably kept up between you. One of your characteristic expressions about her is as complete a panegyric as ever man made upon woman. She is of all hours." If it is not in Shakespeare, and I do not recollect it there, it is like, it is worthy of his pen.

66

About the Herva of my friend Mathias, we

SO

are for once in unison; but you are not half candid as I am. Ever have you found me ready to acknowledge the prosaism of many lines which you have pointed out in my most favourite poets. I sent you some of my late friend's, and your idol, Davies, which you could not but feel were unclassical, and inelegant in the extreme; yet no such concession have you made to those instances.

I have frequently mentioned Cowper's Task to you; but you are invincibly silent upon that subject. Have I not reason to reproach? How should an enthusiast in the art she loves bear to see her friend thus coldly regardless of such a poet as Cowper, while he exalts Davies above a Beattie, an Hayley; above the author of Elfrida and Caractacus !-for said not that friend, that no modern poet was so truly a poet as Davies ?

He who can think so, would, I do believe, peruse, with delectable stoicism, a bard who should now rise up with all the poetic glories that lived on the lyres of Shakespeare and Milton." If ye believe not Moses and the Prophets, neither shall ye be persuaded by me, though one arose from the dead;"—and so much at present for prejudice and criticism.

As for the last sentence in your letter, my friend, I meddle not with politics;-yet confess myself delighted with our juvenile minister, of whom, I trust, we may say of his political, as well as natural life, for many years to come,

"Our young Marcellus was not born to die.”

Adieu!

LETTER LXXIX.

REV. Dr GREGORY *, on his Translation of BISHOP LOWTH's Lectures on Hebraic Poetry.

Lichfield, Nov. 12, 1787.

ENTERTAINED, instructed, and delighted as I have been by your valuable work, I cannot resist the desire of writing to you on the subject.

I have read these volumes, and their notes, with attention, many parts of them aloud to my ingenious friend, Mr Saville, of this place, who has science, classical knowledge, and who is a devoted admirer of the Scriptural poetry.

* Of East-Ham, Essex, who died in 1808, VOL. I

Ꮓ

We examined also, in our progress, the various parts of the Bible which are praised, analysed, or referred to. This pleasing investigation engaged, through several weeks, the chief portion of my too scanty leisure for reading. I determined to complete it before I addressed you upon the pleasures it has given me. They will, I hope, be often renewed, since I have purchased the volumes, and consider them as one of the chief treasures of my book-shelves.

I often wonder how it is possible to accomplish the very transcribing such volumes as these, amidst the engrossing business, and society of a life like yours;-but I congratulate you upon having completed a great work, useful and delightful to unborn ages. I hope the good Bishop saw a large part of it, at least, before the eyes of his understanding grew dim. If so, he must have felt great pleasure in perceiving the strength, the spirit, and grace of his work transfusing, with undiminished excellence, into his native language. I never saw a translation, which more perfectly possessed the dignity, the ease, the perspicuity, and glow of original composition.

The fine print of the Bishop, prefixed, is a treasure, augmenting, by the penetrating and benevolent expression of the countenance, the delight with which we listen to the opinions of so learned, so wise, so great, so good a man, on a

subject universally interesting and important, where there is any taste for literature.

He has thrown a large quantity of new, and very brightening light upon the Hebraic poetry, which certainly abounds in pathetic and sublime passages; yet I must think our right reverend author considerably prejudiced, when he asserts, that, considered merely as poetry, nothing amongst the ancient and modern classics approaches it, as to pathos and sublimity; and very much indeed do I think him mistaken when he tells us, in the first lecture, that poetry, on any other than religious subjects, seems out of character. Is poetry out of character in the Plays of Shakespeare, the Epistles of Pope, and the Odes of Gray?

Poetry is doubtless well adapted to prophetic denunciation, and to promissory blessings, where he that breathes them believes himself inspired; to religious apostrophe, to deprecation, and to triumphant praise ;-but surely it is not suited to the humble, chastised sensations with which prayers should be offered, and which ought to characterize a Christian's supplicatory devotion.

Luxuriance of imagination is essential to poetry; and in these days that is surely out of place when it wantons with sacred subjects. The rational mind feels a sort of horror and disgust, in perusing the extravagant hymns of some of our Christian enthusiasts, even those of the pious Watts;