rictest sense of the word. In the play
of fancy, Wordsworth, to my feelings, is not always graceful, and is
sometimes recondite. But in imaginative power he stands nearest of all
modern writers to Shakespeare and Milton; and yet in a kind perfectly
unborrowed and his own. To employ his own words, he does indeed to all
thoughts and to all objects

Add the gleam,
The light that never was on sea or land,
The consecration, and the poet's dream.

* * * * *

WILLIAM COWPER

Letters Written in the Years 1782-1790

William Cowper, son of a chaplain to George II., was born at
Berkhampstead Parsonage on November 15, 1731. After being
educated at Westminster School, he studied law for three
years, and in 1752 took up his residence, for a further
course, in the Middle Temple. Though called to the Bar in
1754, he never practised, for he profoundly hated law, while
he passionately loved literary pursuits. His friends having
provided him with sufficient funds for subsistence, in
addition to a small patrimony left by his father, Cowper went
to live at Huntingdon, where he formed a deep attachment with
the Unwin family, which proved to be a lifelong friendship.
The latter years of his life were spent at Olney. He achieved
wide fame by the publication of "The Task," which was
pronounced by many critics the greatest poem of the period.
The main characteristics of his style are its simplicity, its
sympathy with nature and with ordinary life, and its
unaffected devotional accent. But Cowper is now appreciated
more for his incomparably delightful epistles to his friends
than for his poetry. Few letters in our language can compare
with these for incisive but kindly and gentle irony; innocent
but genuine fun; keen and striking acumen, and tender
melancholy. Cowper died on April 25, 1800.

_To the Rev. John Newton_

Olney, _January_ 13, 1782. I am rather pleased that you have adopted
other sentiments respecting our intended present to Dr. Johnson. I allow
him to be a man of gigantic talents and most profound learning, nor have
I any doubts about the universality of his knowledge; but, by what I
have seen of his animadversions on the poets, I feel myself much
disposed to question, in many instances, either his candour or his
taste.

He finds fault too often, li