e is laboured into harshness. riter seems to work with unnaDuble, double, toil and trouble." rutting dignity, and is tall by His art and his struggle are re is too little appearance of as no beauties, would be unjust great learning and great indusit produce something valuable. least, it can only be said that a directed. of Northern and Welch Poetry e imagery is preserved, perhaps it the language is unlike the >oets. of his Elegy I rejoice to concur eader; for by the common sense upted with literary prejudices, ements of subtilty and the dog.must finally be decided all claim 9. The Church-yard' abounds find a mirror in every mind, and which every bosom returns an stanzas, beginning 'Yet even to me original: I have never in any other place; yet he that pursuades himself that he has alHad Gray written often thus, it blame, and useless to praise him. pronounced by Dr. Johnson on as been almost universally ace exorbitantly severe. But no n has written is to be lost or alsuitable to the limits of a publica>resent. We may, however, subforce of his opinions by quoting recent critic, who possesses a keen I as great literary acuteness and ultivated taste. In order' says M In the second stanza the Bard is well described; but in the third we have the puerilities of obsolete mythology. When we are told that Cadwallo bush'd the stormy main,' and that Modred made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head,' attention recoils from the repetition of a tale that, even when it was first heard, was heard with scorn. The weaving of the winding-sheet he borrowed, as he owns, from the Northern Bards; but their texture, however, was very properly the work of female powers, as the act of spinning the thread of life is another mythology. Theft is always dangerous; Gray has made weavers of slaughtered bards by a fiction outrageous and incongruous. They are then called upon to 'Weave, the warp, and weave the woof,' perhaps with no great propriety; for it is by crossing the woof with the warp that men weave the web or piece; and the first line was dearly bought by the admission of its wretched correpondent, "Give ample room and verge enough."* He has, however, no other line as bad. The third stanza of the second ternary is commended, I think, beyond its merit. The personification is distinct. Thirst and Hunger are not alike; and their features, to make the imagery perfect, should have been discriminated. We are told, in the same stanza, how towers are fed.' But I will no longer look for particular faults; yet let it be observed that the ode might have been concluded with an action of better example; but suicide is always to be had without expense of thought. These odes are marked by glittering accumulations of ungraceful ornaments; they strike, rather than please; the images are magnified by affecta "I have a soul, that like an ample shield Can take in all; and verge enough for more." tion; the language is laboured into harshness. The mind of the writer seems to work with unnatural violence. 'Double, double, toil and trouble.' He has a kind of strutting dignity, and is tall by walking on tiptoe. His art and his struggle are too visible, and there is too little appearance of ease and nature. To say that he has no beauties, would be unjust a man like him, of great learning and great industry, could not but produce something valuable. When he pleases least, it can only be said that a good design was ill directed. His translations of Northern and Welch Poetry deserve praise; the imagery is preserved, perhaps often improved; but the language is unlike the language of other poets. In the character of his Elegy I rejoice to 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 finally be 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 even these bones,' are to me original: I have never seen the notions in any other place; yet he that reads them here pursuades himself that he has always felt them. Had Gray written often thus, it had been vain to blame, and useless to praise him. The judgment pronounced by Dr. Johnson on Gray's poetry has been almost universally ac knowledged to be exorbitantly severe. But no. thing that Johnson has written is to be lost or altered, when it is suitable to the limits of a publication such as the present. We may, however, subtract from the force of his opinions by quoting those of a more recent critic, who possesses a keen sensibility, as well as great literary acuteness and a just, highly cultivated taste. In order' says In the second stanza the Bard is well described; but in the third we have the puerilities of obsolete mythology. When we are told that Cadwallo bush'd the stormy main,' and that Modred made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head,' attention recoils from the repetition of a tale that, even when it was first heard, was heard with scorn. The weaving of the winding-sheet he borrowed, as he owns, from the Northern Bards; but their texture, however, was very properly the work of female powers, as the act of spinning the thread of life is another mythology. Theft is always dangerous; Gray has made weavers of slaughtered bards by a fiction outrageous and incongruous. They are then called upon to Weave, the warp, and weave the woof,' perhaps with no great propriety; for it is by crossing the woof with the warp that men weave the web or piece; and the first fine was dearly bought by the admission of its wretched correpondent, "Give ample room and verge enough." He has, however, no other line as bad. The third stanza of the second ternary is commended, I think, beyond its merit. The personification is distinct. Thirst and Hunger are not alike; and their features, to make the imagery perfect, should have been discriminated. We are told, in the same stanza, how towers are fed.' But I will no longer look for particular faults; yet let it be observed that the ode might have been concluded with an action of better example; but suicide is always to be had without expense of thought. These odes are marked by glittering accumulations of ungraceful ornaments; they strike, rather than please; the images are magnified by affecta "I have a soul, that like an ample shield |