CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FAMILY. HI 



as I remember, at 16 years of age) he has given several in- 

 stances of this sort of power, as 



" And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows," &c. 



But the finest instance that I remember in our own lan- 

 guage for several lines together, is in old John Dryden's 

 translation of a simile in Virgil, which, though I have not 

 seen for these 20 years, I shall never forget on account of its 

 singular elegance *. 



" As when a dove her rocky hold forsakes, 

 Rous'd, in a fright her sounding wings she shakes ; 

 The cavern rings with chattering, out she flies, 

 And leaves her callow care, and cleaves the skies : 

 At first she flutters ; but at length she springs 

 To smoother flight, and shoots upon her wings." 



" mox ae're lapsa quieto, 

 Radit iter liquidum, celeres neque comnaovet alas." 



In short, John Dryden is to me much the greatest master 

 of numbers of any of our English bards ; but then, contrary 

 to most men, he never arrived at perfection 'til he was very 

 old. 



Ehime in itself is barbarous and Gothic, and unknown to 

 the ancients, who would have despised such a jingle ; but then 

 it must be remembered that modern languages being destitute 

 of the beauties derived from terminations and inflection, re- 

 quire some substitute. Besides, some of our best poets have 

 conducted rhime with such address that it seems to fall in of 

 its own accord, without their seeking; and if rhimes are 

 shackles, yet these people move so gracefully in them, that we 

 would not wish to see them divested of them. 



Blank verse is, no doubt, when well conducted, full of dig- 

 nity ; but then perfection in that way is so rare that we never 

 had but two or three poems that were worth reading. A de- 

 sire of raising the diction above prose pushes men into fustian 

 and bombast. Even the great Milton, the father of blank 

 verse, is not always free from this vice, but ransacks the 



* [This passage, with the original, appears afterwards at the close of 

 letter XLIV. (the last) to Pennant, at p. 112 of the 1st volume. T. B.J 



