en already noticed, is always to be
referred rather to the head than to the heart; and a poem, written to
please mere critics, requires an introduction and display of art, to
the exclusion of natural beauty.--This explains the extravagant
panegyric of Lee on Dryden's play:

--Milton did the wealthy mine disclose,
And rudely cast what you could well dispose;
He roughly drew, on an old-fashioned ground,
A chaos; for no perfect world was found,
Till through the heap your mighty genius shined:
He was the golden ore, which you refined.
He first beheld the beauteous rustic maid,
And to a place of strength the prize conveyed:
You took her thence; to Court this virgin brought,
Dressed her with gems, new-weaved her hard-spun thought,
And softest language sweetest manners taught;
Till from a comet she a star did rise,
Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.

Doubtless there were several critics of that period, who held the
heretical opinion above expressed by Lee. And the imitation was such
as to warrant that conclusion, considering the school in which it was
formed. The scene of the consultation in Pandemonium, and of the
soliloquy of Satan on his arrival in the newly-created universe, would
possess great merit, did they not unfortunately remind us of the
majestic simplicity of Milton. But there is often a sort of Ovidian
point in the diction which seems misplaced. Thus, Asmodeus tells us,
that the devils, ascending from the lake of fire,

Shake off their slumber _first_, and _next_ their fear.

And, with Dryden's usual hate to the poor Dutchmen, the council of
Pandemonium are termed,

_Most High and Mighty_ Lords, who better fell
From heaven, to rise _States General_ of hell.

There is one inconvenience, which, as this poem was intended for
perusal only, the author, one would have thought, might have easily
avoided. This arises from the stage directions, which supply the place
of the terrific and beautiful descriptions of Milton. What idea,
except burlesque, can we form of the expulsion of the fallen angels
from heaven, literally represented by their tumbling down upon the
stage? or what feelings of terror can be excited by the idea of an
opera hell, composed of pasteboard and flaming rosin? If these follies
were not actually to be produced before our eyes, it could serve no
good purpose to excite the image of them in our imaginations. They are
circumstances by which we feel,