friendship, with people of warm imagination, even more frequently turns upon pleasing qualities the magnifying end of the telescope. At length D.'s brilliant poem, the Botanic Garden, appears, enriched with extraneous imagery, allusion, scenery, and description from the mechanism of various arts, and the marvels of various mythology. The simplex mundities of writing, which at times so well becomes the poet, might certainly be better spared in this peculiar work, than from any other imaginable theme; but were he to give us an epic, a narrative, or ethic poem, and his genius is questionless equal to any species of poetic composition, I apprehend his maxim, that every thing in poetry should be picture, would lead him to overcharge, even such a composition, with a profusion of high-wrought ornament. Mrs Smith had a very good concert-her room was full-her friends were generous-and I never heard her voice in so much power. The music and songs were admirably selected, and seemed to please extremely. I wish you could have added to your bounty to her, the delight of your encouraging smile. Thus far was written on Friday evening-unwilling to lose the entire benefit of its fast-fading sun-beams, I walked out, and found, on my re turn, the illustrious, the graceful Hayley, in my dressing-room. He is going to Rome, and the rest of the Italian cities-had been at Derby, to settle Mrs. Hayley in lodgings there, during his absence, near her friend, Mrs Berridge. He circled round by Lichfield to take his leave of myself, and of his friend Mr Saville, who was unfortunately at Birmingham. He said indispensable business called him immediately to town, and he set out the next morning. I travelled with him to Coleshill. He looks vastly well, but I dread the influence of sultry climates on an habit so feverish. The nonsense and malice of the public critics, seem to have given him the same disgust to the idea of publishing, that sickens upon my spirit, and slackens all my nerves of poetic industry. LETTER LXVIII. DR DARWIN. Lichfield, May 22, 1789. I AM again obliged by your attention to me, in replying so soon to my observations on your thrice-charming work-but as I find that the language in which I expressed them, did not make their meaning quite clear to you, I intrude upon you once more to explain them a little further. By words expressive of abstract ideas, I thought you meant terms that signify, according to Johnson's definition," the mode or quality of a being, without any regard to the subject in which it exists, as grace, awkwardness, magnitude, diminution, complacence, sullenness," &c. It appears to me that words thus expressive of properties in the aggregate, are as freely used in ethic, metaphysic, or didactic poetry, as in prose. « Remembrance and reflection, how allied! If in the sentence, quoted in my last from Johnson, Indigence is personified by her cottage, and Wealth by her mart, imposition, truth, and elegance, are merely used as abstract terms. You surprise me by calling that sentence bombast as prose. I see not that the two personifications have there a more bombastic effect, than when, instead of saying, " such and such effects result from electrical experiments," you would say, "electricity produces such and such effects." Johnson appears to me to have been the first introducer of that style in prose, which expresses much in little, by using the abstract term frequently, instead of characterizing an individual or individuals, by his or their peculiar disposition; as "Indolence reposes," instead of "the indolent man reposes;"" Criticism pronounces," instead of "critics pronounce," &c. It must certainly be allowed, that these are personifications; and that, by their perpetual recurrence, the style approaches nearer to poetry; but so long as it becomes more nervous and condensed, instead of more diffuse by the habit, surely its excel lence is increased, provided care be taken, which Johnson always took, that it shall not run into blank verse; which, except as quotation, has always bad effect in prose. Our historians, our philosophers, our orators, have all adopted this habit and I confess I like the strength and majesty it gives to their language. Written language ought surely to be more elevated than that of conversation; and what might wear too pompous an air from the lip, becomes the superior dignity of the pen-yet Johnson talked thus, and awed the world. He would probably, however, have been ridiculed instead of admired on that account, but for those prompt and cutting sarcasms with which he always avenged the presumption of raillery, and the coldness of inattention. The quotations I made in my last from Pope and Johnson, were not designed as instances of the use of abstract terms in poetry, but given in support of my opinion, that there is often very fine poetry without imagery. You observe, that "his sword the brave man draws," is picture. I grant it; but the next line, more excellent in the elevation of the sentiment, is not; neither is there any thing picturesque in that fine metaphysical passage, beginning," Passions like elements;" nor in the equally fine moral ones from Johnson, "What gave great Villiers," &c.-and "These gifts to man," &c. I contended for the use and beauty of poetic aphorisms, from the force with which they fix themselves on the memory. Nothing was ever less meant by me than to maintain that the natural sensibility of melody which, in different people, varies so extremely in degree, and in some exists not at all, results from superior quickness in the simple faculty of hearing. Neither my own mother, or either of her sisters, could, in the least degree, distinguish one tune from another; not even if an instrument was playing the loyal song, without a voice, could they guess that it was "God save the King;"-yet were they the daughters of a man who amused his leisure hours with music, sung well, and played tolerably on the bass-viol. He had a master to |