The other objection turns upon a word with which it is not necessary for me to interfere; for I did not quote these verses as instances of the merit of Sternhold, or his version, I only asserted, that the lines which I then copied, viz.

The Lord descended from above, &c.

were truly noble and sublime. Whether, therefore, Sternhold wrote all the winds (as asserted by your correspondent, in order to furnish room for objection) or mighty winds, is of no import. But if this really be a subsequent alteration, I think at least there is no improvement; for when we conceive the winds as assembling from all quarters, at the omnipotent command of the Deity, and bearing him with their united forces from the heavens, we have a more sublime image, than when ve see him as flying merely on mighty winds, or as driving his team (or troop) of angels on a strong tempest's rapid wing, with most amazing swiftness, as elegantly represented by Brady and Tate*.

*How any man, enjoying the use of his senses, could prefer the contemptible version of Brady and Tate of this verse to Sternholds, is to me inexplicable. The epithets which are introduced would have disgraced a school-boy, and the majestic imagery of the original is sacrificed to make room for tinsel and fustian.

The chariot of the king of kings,

Which active troops of angels drew;
On a strong tempest's rupid wings,
With most amazing swiftness flew.

I differ from your correspondent's opinion, that these verses, so far from possessing sublimity, attract the reader merely by their rumbling sound: And here it may not be amiss to observe, that the true sublime does not consist in high sounding words, or pompous magnificence; on the contrary, it most frequently appears clad in native dignity and simplicity, without art, and without ornament.

The most elegant critic of antiquity, Longinus, in his treatise on the sublime, adduces the following passage from the book of Genesis, as possessing that quality in an eminent degree.

"God said let there be light, and there was light:Let the earth be, and earth was*”

From what I have advanced on this subject, I would not have it inferred, that I conceive the version of Sternhold and Hopkins, generally speaking, to be superior to that of Brady and Tate; for, on the contrary, in almost every instance, except that abovementioned, the latter possesses an indubitable right to pre-eminence. Our language, however, cannot yet boast one version possessing the true spirit of the original; some are beneath contempt, and the best has scarcely attained mediocrity. Your correspondent has quoted some verses from Tate,

*The critic apparently quoted from memory, for we may search in vain for the latter part of this sentence.

in triumph, as comparatively excellent; but, in my opinion, they are also instances of our general failure in sacred poetry: they abound in those ambitiosa ornamenta which do well to please women and children, but which disgust the man of taste.

To the imitations already noticed of this passage, permit me to add the following:

"But various Iris Jove's commands to bear, Speeds on the wings of winds through liquid air."

Pope's Iliad, B. 2.

"Miguel cruzando os pelagos do vento."

Carlos Reduzido, Canto I. by Pedro de

Azevedo Tojal, an ancient Portuguese poet of some merit.

REMARKS ON THE ENGLISH POETS.

WARTO N.

THE poems of Thomas Warton are replete with a sublimity, and richness of imagery, which seldom fail to enchant: every line presents new beauties of idea, aided by all the magic of animated diction. From the inexhaustible stores of figurative language, majesty, and sublimity, which the ancient English poets afford, he has culled some of the richest and the sweetest flowers. But, unfortunately, in thus making use of the beauties of other writers, he has been too unsparing; for the greater number of his ideas, and nervous epithets, cannot, strictly speaking, be called his own; therefore, however we may be charmed by the grandeur of his images, or the felicity of his expression, we must still bear in our recollection, that we cannot with justice bestow upon him the highest eulogium of genius-that of originality.

It has, with much justice, been observed, that Pope, and his imitators, have introduced a species of refinement into our language, which has banished that nerve and pathos, for which Milton had rendered it eminent. Harmonious modulations, and unvarying exactness of measure, totally precluding sublimity and fire, have reduced our fashionable poetry to mère sing-song. But

Thomas Warton, whose taste was unvitiated by the frivolities of the day, immediately saw the intrinsic worth of what the world then slighted. He saw, that the ancient poets contained a fund of strength, and beauty of imagery, as well as diction, which, in the hands of genius, would shine forth with redoubled lustre. Entirely rejecting, therefore, modern niceties, he extracted the honied sweets from these beautiful, though neglected flowers. Every grace of sentiment, every poetical term, which a false taste had rendered obsolete, was by him revived and made to grace his own ideas; and though many will condemn him, as guilty of plagiarism, yet few will be able to withhold the tribute of their praise.

The peculiar forte of Warton seems to have been in the sombre-descriptive. The wild airy flights of a Spenser; the "chivalrous feats of barons bold;" or the "cloister'd solitude," were the favourites of his mind. Of this his bent he informs us in the following lines:

Through Pope's soft song though all the graces breathe,
And happiest art adorns his attic page,

Yet does my mind with sweeter transport glow,
As at the root of mossy trunk reclin'd,

In magic Spenser's wildly warbled song

I see deserted Una wander wide

Through wasteful solitudes and lurid heaths,
Weary, forlorn; than where the fated * fair

* Belinda. Vide Pope's Rape of the Lock.