nies Rest to my soul, and slumber to my eyes.

DRYDEN's _Indian Emperor_.

Wonder is the natural product of Ignorance; and as the soil was _in such
good condition_ at the time of the publication of the 'Seasons,' the
crop was doubtless abundant. Neither individuals nor nations become
corrupt all at once, nor are they enlightened in a moment. Thomson was
an inspired poet, but he could not work miracles; in cases where the art
of seeing had in some degree been learned, the teacher would further the
proficiency of his pupils, but he could do little _more_; though so far
does vanity assist men in acts of self-deception, that many would often
fancy they recognised a likeness when they knew nothing of the original.
Having shown that much of what his biographer deemed genuine admiration
must in fact have been blind wonderment--how is the rest to be accounted
for?--Thomson was fortunate in the very title of his poem, which seemed
to bring it home to the prepared sympathies of every one: in the next
place, notwithstanding his high powers, he writes a vicious style; and
his false ornaments are exactly of that kind which would be most likely
to strike the undiscerning. He likewise abounds with sentimental
common-places, that, from the manner in which they were brought forward,
bore an imposing air of novelty. In any well-used copy of the 'Seasons'
the book generally opens of itself with the rhapsody on love, or with
one of the stories (perhaps 'Damon and Musidora'); these also are
prominent in our collections of Extracts, and are the parts of his Work,
which, after all, were probably most efficient in first recommending the
author to general notice. Pope, repaying praises which he had received,
and wishing to extol him to the highest, only styles him 'an elegant and
philosophical poet;' nor are we able to collect any unquestionable
proofs that the true characteristics of Thomson's genius as an
imaginative poet[15] were perceived, till the elder Warton, almost forty
years after the publication of the 'Seasons,' pointed them out by a
note in his Essay on the Life and Writings of Pope. In the 'Castle of
Indolence' (of which Gray speaks so coldly) these characteristics were
almost as conspicuously displayed, and in verse more harmonious, and
diction more pure. Yet that fine poem was neglected on its appearance,
and is at this day the delight only of a few!

[15] Since these observations upon Thomson were written, I have perused
the