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that has written, has added fomething thoughts be wrong or fuperfluous, there by enriching it with foreign idioms and is nothing eafier than to leave out derivatives; nay fometimes words the whole. The first ten or twelve lines of their own compofition or invention. Shakespear and Milton have been great creators this way; and no one more licentious than Pope or Dryden, who perpetually borrow expreflions from the former. Let me give you fome inftances from Dryden, whom every body reckons a great master of our poetical tongue. Full of mufeful mopings-unlike the trim of love-a pleasant beverage-a roundelay of love-flood filent in his mood-with <nots and knares deformed-his ireful nood-in proud array - his boon granted-difarray and fhameful routvayward but wife-furbished for the field -the foiled dodderd oaks-diferitedwouldering fames-retchlefs of laws renes old and ugly-the beldam at his de-the grandam-bag-villanize his faher's fame. But they are infinite: nd our language not being a fettled ing (like the French), has an undoubted ght to words of an hundred years old, ovided antiquity have not rendered em unintelligible. In truth, Shakeear's language is one of his princibeauties; and he has no lefs advange over your Addifons and Rowes in is, than in thofe other great excellenes you mention. Every word in him a picture. Pray put me the following es into the tongue of our modern draitics;

are, I believe, the beft; and as for the reft, I was betrayed into a good deal of it by Tacitus; only what he has faid in five words, I imagine I have said in fifty lines: fuch is the misfortune of imitating the inimitable. Now, if you are of my opinon, una litura may do the bufinefs, better than a dozen; and you need not fear unravelling my web. I'am a fort of fpider; and have little elfe to do but fpin it over again, or creep to fome other place and fpin there. Alas! for one who has nothing to do but amuse himself. I believe my amufements are as little amufing as most folks. But no matter; it makes the hours pafs; and is better than ἐν αμαθιᾳ καὶ ἀμείᾳ καταβιῶναι. Adieu.

t I that am not fhap'd for sportive tricks, or made to court an amourous looking-glafs : that am rudely ftampt, and want love's majesty ftrut before a wanton ambling nymph: that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, eated of feature by diflembling nature, form'd, unfinish'd, fent before my time o this breathing wor d, fcarce half made upid what follows. To me they appear tranflateable; and if this be the cafe, language is greatly degenerated. wever, the affectation of imitating akefpear may doubtlefs be carried too ; and is no fort of excufe for fentints ill-fuited, or fpeeches ill-timed, ich I believe is a little the cafe with . I guess the most faulty expreffions y be thefe-filken fon of dalliance fier pretenfions-wrinkled beldams— bed the hearer's brow and riveted his es in fearful extafie. Thefe are easily ered or omitted; and indeed if the

LETTER XLVII.

Mr. Weft to Mr. Gray.

To begin with the conclufion of your let

ter, which is Greek, I defire that you will quarrel no more with your manner of paffing your time. In my opinion it is irreproachable, efpecially as it produces fuch excellent fruit; and if I, like a faucy bird, must be pecking at it, you ought to confider that it is because I like it. No una litura I beg you, no unravelling of your web, dear Sir! only purfue it a little further, and then one hall be able to judge of it a little better. You know the crifis of a play is in the first act; its damnation or Lalvation wholly reits there. But till that first act is over, every body fufpends his vote; fo how do you think I can form, as yet, any juft idea of the speeches in regard to their length or fhortnefs? the connection and fymmetry of fuch little parts with one another muft naturally ef cape me, as not having the plan of the whole in my head; neither can I decide about the thoughts, whether they are wrong or fuperfluous; they may have fome future tendency which I perceive

The lines which he means here are from

thus ever grave and undisturb'd reflection—to Rubel-
lius lives. For the part of the fcene, which he

fent in his former letter, began there.
Uu2

not.

not.

no relish, no attention for any thing ; z other times I revive, and am capable at writing a long letter, as you fee; m though I do not write fpeeches, yal tranflate them. When you undering what fpeech, you will own that it is a bu and perhaps a dull attempt. In thre words, it is profe, it is from Tacitas i is of Germanicus. Perale, perpe

pronounce.

The ftyle only was free to me, and there I find we are pretty much of the fame fentiment: for you fay the affectation of imitating Shakespear may doubtless be carried too far; I fay as much and no more. For old words we know are old gold, provided they are well chofen. Whatever Ennius was, I do not confider Shakespear as a dunghill in the least on the contrary, he is a mine of ancient ore, where all our great modern poets have found their advantage. I do not know how it is; but his old expreffions have more energy in them than ours, and are even more adapted to poetry; certainly, where they are judicioufly and fparingly inferted, they add a certain grace to the compofition; in the fame I manner as Pouffin gave a beauty to his pictures by his knowledge in the ancient proportions: but fhould he, or any other painter, carry the imitation too far, and neglect that beft of models Nature, I am afraid it would prove a very flat performance. To finish this long criticifm: I have this further notion about old words revived, (is not this a pretty way of finishing?) I think them of excellent ufe in tales; they add a certain drollery to the comic, and a romantic gravity to the ferious, which are both Charming, in their kind; and this way of charming Dryden understood very well. One need only read Milton to acknowledge the dignity they give the Epic. But now comes my opinion that they ought to be used in tragedy more fparingly than in most kinds of poetry. Tragedy is defigned for public reprefentation, and what is defigned for that fhould be certainly moft intelligible. I believe half the audience that come to Shakespear's plays do not understand the half of what they hear.-But finiffons enfin.-Yet one word more. -You think the ten or twelve firft lines the beft, now I am for the fourteen laft; add, that they contain not one word of ancientry.

I rejoice you found amufement in Jofeph Andrews. But then I think your conceptions of Paradife a little upon the Bergerac. Les Lettres du Seraphim R. a Madame la Cherubineffe de 2. What a piece of extravagance would there be !

LETTER XLVIIL
Mr. Gray to Mr. Wt.

Londen, April e
SHOULD not have failed to r
your letter immediately, but i
out of town for a little while, wat
dered me. Its length (befides the pe
fure naturally accompanying a long
from you) affords me a new one, w
I think it is a fymptom of the rece
of your health, and flatter my 2
your bodily ftrength returns in pr
tion. Pray do not forget to mentiæ 7
progrefs you make continually. Ar
Agrippina, I begin to be of your
nion; and find myfelf (as women red
their children) lefs enamoured ar
productions the older they grow.
laid up to fleep till next fummer; tist
her good night. I think you have
lated Tacitus very jully, that is the
and accommodated his thoughts
turn and genius of our language;
though I commend your judgment, b⠀
commendation of the English tongue.
is too diffufe, and daily grows mets
more enervate. One thall never be a
fenfible of this, than in turning
thor like Tacitus. I have been b
in fome parts of Thucydides (w

a little refemblance of him in his cer nefs), and endeavoured to do it c but found it produced mere most If you have any inclination to feet figure Tacitus makes in Italian, I a Tufcan tranflation of Davanzati, cfteemed in Italy; and will fend you fame fpeech you fent me; that i you care for it. In the mean time cept of Propertius *.

A translation of the ift elegy of the 2 And in English rhyme.

And now you must know that my body continues weak and inervate. for my animal fpirits, they are in perpetual Auctuation: fome whole days I have

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Mr. Weft to Mr. Gray.

Popes, May 5, 1742.

ITHOUT any preface 1 come to your verfes, which I read over and er with exceffive pleasure, and which : at least as good as Propertius. I am ly forry you follow the blunders of Sukhufius, all whofe infertions are nonfe. I have fome objections to your iquated words, and am also an enemy Alexandrines; at least I do not like m in Elegy. But after all, I admire ir tranflation fo extremely, that I not help repeating I long to fhew you e little errors you are fallen into by owing Broukhufius. Were I with now, and Propertius with your es lay upon the table between us, I Id difcufs this point in a moment; there is nothing to tiresome as fpinning

a criticism in a letter; doubts arife, and nations fellow, till there fwells out alt a volume of undigested obferva3: and all because you are not with him m you want to convince. Read onle Letters between Pope and Cromin proof of this; they difpute withend. Are you aware now that I an intereft all this while in banishcriticism from our correspondence? ed I have; for I am going to write 1 a little Ode (if it deferves the ) for your perufal, which I am d will hardly fland that teft.

LETTER L.
Mr. Gray to Mr. Weft.

London, May 8, 1742. fee, by what I fent you, that I converfe, as ufual, with none but dead they are my old friends, and t make me long to be with them. will not wonder therefore, that 1, I, live only in times past, am able to you no news of the prefent. I have hed the Peloponnefian war much to honour, and a tight conflict it was, I nife you. I have drank and fung Anacreon for the last fortnight, and now feeding sheep with Theocritus. des, to quit my figure (because it is

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YOUR fragment is in Aulus Gellius;

about it.

and both it and your Greek delicious. But why are you thus melancholy? I am fo forry for it, that you fee I cannot forbear writing again the very first opportunity; though I have little to fay, except to expoftulate with you I find you converfe much with the dead, and I do not blame you for that; I converfe with them too, though not indeed with the Greek. But I must condemn you for your longing to be with them. What, are there no joys among the living? I could almoft cry out with Catullus, "Al

phene immemor, atque unanimis false fo"dalibus!" But to turn an accufation thus upon another, is ungenerous; fo I will take my leave of you for the prefert with a "Vale, et vive paulifper cum " vivis.”

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above twice within this laft age to moral
man, and no one here can conceive wiz
it may portend. You have heard, lig
pofe, how I have been employed a pr
of the time; how, by my own inde
gable application for thele ten years pat
and by the care and vigilance of
worthy magiilrate the man in b
(who, I affure you, has not fpared t
bour, nor could have done incre forts
own fon), I am got half way to the ap
of jurifprudence t, and bid as får s
another body to open a cafe of imponer
with all decency and circumfpe
You fee my ambition. I do not dr
but fome thirty years hence I tha?
vince the world and you that I am a
pretty young fellow; and may com
thine in a profefiion, perhaps the

form certain little wishes that fignify nothing. But there is another fort, black indeed, which I have now and then felt, that has fomewhat in it like Tertullian's rule of faith, Credo quia impoffibile eft; for it believes, nay, is fure of every thing that is unlikely, fo it be but frightful; and, on the other hand, excludes and fhuts its eyes to the most poffible hopes, and every thing that is pleasurable; from this the Lord deliver us! for none but he and funthiny weather can do it. In hopes of enjoying this kind of weather, I am going into the country for a few weeks, but thall be never the nearer any fociety; fo, if you have any charity, you will continue to write. My life is like Harry the Fourth's fupper of hens: "Poulets "a la broche, poulets en ragout, poulets en hâchis, poulets en fricafees "of all except man-midwifery. As fr Reading here, reading there; nothing if your distemper and you can but a but books with different fauces. Do not about going to London, I may res let me lofe my deffert then; for though ably expect in a much shorter time t that be reading too, yet it has a very dif- you in your three-cornered villa, dong “ ferent flavour. The May feems to be honours of a well-furnished table w come fince your invitation; and I propofe much dignity, as rich a mien, to bask in her beams and drefs me in her capacious a belly, as Dr. Mead. thinks I fee Dr., at the lower es it, lost in admiration of your goods fon and parts, cramming down e (for it will rife) with the wing of a fant, and drowning it in neat burg But not to tempt your afthma to with fuch a profpect, I fhould this this even in the country. might be almoft as happy and as g best, and I fhould be forry to L thing that might stop you in the of glory; far be it from me to the wheels of your gilded charist.

rofes:

Et caput in verna femper habere rofâ. I fhall fee Mr. and his wife, nay, and his child too, for he has got a boy. Is it not odd to confider one's cotemporaries in the grave light of hufband and father? There is my Lords

and

, they are fatefmen: do not you remember them dirty boys playing at cricket? As for me, I am never a bit the older, nor the bigger, nor the wifer than I was then: no, not for having been beyond fea. Pray how are you?

I

LETTER LIII.

Mr. Gray to Dr. Wharton *.

Cambridge, Dec. 27, 1742. OUGHT to have returned you my thanks a a long time ago, for the pleafure, I fhould fay prodigy, of your letter; for fuch a thing has not happened

* Of Old park, near Durham. With this gentleman Mr. Gray contracted an acquaintance very cary; and though they were not educated together at Eton, yet afterwards at Cambridge, when the Doctor was Fell w of Pembroke Hall, they beca ne intimate friends, and continued fo to the time of Mr. Gray's death.

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Sir Thomas; and when you & even phyficians muft die) may the 1-4 in Warwick-lane erect your tatuer very niche of Sir John Cutler's.

I was going to tell you how far for your illness, but I hope it is o now I can only fay that I rea very forry. May you live a b Chriftmailes, and eat as many co brawn ftuck with rofemary. A

A fervant of the Vice-Chancelie time being, ufually known by the name: Coat, whofe bufinefs it is to attend Act

grees, &c.

i. e. Batchelor of Civil Law.

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LETTER LIV.

From the fame to the fame.

Peterhouse, April 26, 1744. write fo feelingly to Mr. Brown, and represent your abandoned condition in terms fo touching, that what gratitude could not effect in feveral months, compaffion has brought about in a few days; and broke that ftrong attachment, or rather allegiance, which I and all here owe to our fovereign lady and miftrefs, the prefident of prefidents and head of heads (if I may be permitted to pronounce her name, that ineffable Octogrammaton), the power of Laziness. You muft know the had been pleased to ap: point me (in preference to fo many old fervants of her's who had spent their whole lives in qualifying themfelves for the office) grand picker of ftraws and push-pin player to her Supinity (for that is her title). The first is much in the nature of Lord President of the Council; and the other like the groom-porter, only without the profit, but as they are both things of very great honour in this country, I confidered with myfelf the oad of envy attending fuch great charges; and befides (between you and ne), I found myself unable to fupport the fatigue of keeping up the appearance that perfons of fuch dignity mutt do; fo I thought proper to decline it, and excufed myself as well as I could. However, as you fee fuch an affair mult take up a good deal of time, and it has always been the policy of this court to proeed flowly, like the Imperial and that of Spain, in the dispatch of business, you will on this account the easier forgive me, if I have not answered your letter before.

You defire to know, it feems, what character the poem of your young friend bears here *. I wonder that you ask the opinion of a nation, where thofe, who pretend to judge, do not judge at all;

Pleafures of the Imagination: from the posthumous publication of Dr. Akenfide's Poems, it

fhould feem that the author had very much the

fame opinion afterwards of his own work, which Mr. Gray here expreffes; fince he undertook a reform of it which must have given him, had he concluded it, as much trouble as if he had written it entirely new.

and the reft (the wifer part) wait to catch the judgment of the world immediately above them; that is, Dick's and the Rainbow coffee-houses. Your readier way would be to afk the ladies that keep the bars in thofe two theatres of criticism. However, to fhew you that I am a judge, as well as my countrymen, I will tell you, though I have rather turned it over than read it (bat no matter; no more have they), that it feems to me above the middling; and now and then, for a little while, rifes even to the beft, particularly in defcription. It is often obfcure, and even unintelligible; and too much infected with the Hutchinson jargon. In fhort, its great fault is, that it was pub lifhed at least nine years too early. And fo methinks in a few words, “ à la mode du "Temple," I have very pertly difpatched what perhaps may for several years have employed a very ingenious man worth fifty of myself.

tafte for Socrates; he was a divine man. You are much in the right to have a I must tell you, by way of news of the place, that the other day a certain new profeffor made an apology for him an hour long in the fchools; and all the world brought in Socrates guilty, except the people of his own college.

worfe company; if the returns, you will The mufe is gone, and left me in far hear of her. As to her child + (fince you are fo good as to inquire after it), it is but a puling chit yet, not a bit grown to speak of; I believe, poor thing, it has got the worms that will carry it off at laft. Mr. Trollope and I are in a courfe of tar-water; he for his prefent, and I for my future distempers. If you think it will kill me, fend away a man and horfe directly; for I drink like a fish. Your's, &c,

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