the many,
are greedy after vicious provocatives;--judges, whose censure is
auspicious, and whose praise ominous! In this class meet together the
two extremes of best and worst.

The observations presented in the foregoing series are of too ungracious
a nature to have been made without reluctance; and, were it only on this
account, I would invite the reader to try them by the test of
comprehensive experience. If the number of judges who can be confidently
relied upon be in reality so small, it ought to follow that partial
notice only, or neglect, perhaps long continued, or attention wholly
inadequate to their merits--must have been the fate of most works in the
higher departments of poetry; and that, on the other hand, numerous
productions have blazed into popularity, and have passed away, leaving
scarcely a trace behind them; it will be further found, that when
Authors shall have at length raised themselves into general admiration
and maintained their ground, errors and prejudices have prevailed
concerning their genius and their works, which the few who are conscious
of those errors and prejudices would deplore; if they were not
recompensed by perceiving that there are select Spirits for whom it is
ordained that their fame shall be in the world an existence like that of
Virtue, which owes its being to the struggles it makes, and its vigour
to the enemies whom it provokes;--a vivacious quality, ever doomed to
meet with opposition, and still triumphing over it; and, from the nature
of its dominion, incapable of being brought to the sad conclusion of
Alexander, when he wept that there were no more worlds for him to
conquer.

Let us take a hasty retrospect of the poetical literature of this
Country for the greater part of the last two centuries, and see if the
facts support these inferences.

Who is there that now reads the 'Creation' of Dubartas? Yet all Europe
once resounded with his praise; he was caressed by kings; and, when his
Poem was translated into our language, the 'Faery Queen' faded before
it. The name of Spenser, whose genius is of a higher order than even
that of Ariosto, is at this day scarcely known beyond the limits of the
British Isles. And if the value of his works is to be estimated from the
attention now paid to them by his countrymen, compared with that which
they bestow on those of some other writers, it must be pronounced small
indeed.

The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors
And poets _