pervades the whole; and, whilst the author avoids every thing that is
ridiculous or contemptible, he, at the same time, never rises to any
thing that we can commend or admire. He says what is incontrovertible,
and what has already been said over and over, with much gravity, but
says nothing new, sprightly, or entertaining; travelling on in a plain,
level, flat road, with great composure, almost through the whole long,
and rather tedious volume, which is little better than a dull sermon, in
very indifferent verse, on Truth, the Progress of Error, Charity, and
some other grave subjects. If this author had followed the advice given
by Caraccioli,[G] and which he has chosen for one of the mottos
prefixed to these Poems, he would have clothed his indisputable truths
in some becoming _disguise_, and rendered his work much more agreeable.
In its present state, we cannot compliment him on its shape or beauty;
for, as this bard himself _sweetly_ sings,
'The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear,
Falls soporific on the listless ear.'
In his learned dissertation on _Hope_, we meet with the following lines
[Quotes some fifty lines from _Hope_ beginning,
Build by whatever plan caprice decrees,
With what materials, on what ground you please, etc.
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