ry in verse, Pope is peculiarly happy; we
almost forget the grossness of the subject of this tale, while we are
struck by the uncommon ease and readiness of the verse, the suitableness
of the expressions, and the spirit and happiness of the whole. I think
Dr. Warton injudiciously censures the verse, which appears to me to be
very suitably employed. Pope has introduced triplets in many places, no
doubt for greater effect, which they certainly have. There is generally
two together, ended with an Alexandrine. This is common in Dryden's
fables, on which Pope evidently formed his style in these narrative
pieces. When I say that Dr. Warton injudiciously objects to the verse,
it should be remembered that there is a mock-elevation in the speeches,
descriptions, &c., of this story, and even poetry in the fairy revels,
for which the versification Pope has chosen is more proper, than it
would be for Prior's burlesque, and less poetical, ribaldry. The mixture
of classical and gothic imagery, such as Chaucer uses, in making Pluto
and Proserpine, instead of spirits, like Oberon and Titania, the king
and queen of the "yellow-skirted fays," is very common in our early
poets, who derived the combination from the old romances, and
Ovid.--BOWLES.

When Dryden published his version of some of Chaucer's Tales he gave, in
his preface, an excellent account of the characteristics of the
original. "As Chaucer," he said, "is the father of English poetry, so I
hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held Homer, or
the Romans Virgil. He is a perpetual fountain of good sense,--learned in
all sciences, and therefore speaks properly on all subjects. He must
have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive nature, because, as it
has been truly observed of him, he has taken into the compass of his
Canterbury Tales the various manners, and humours, as we now call them,
of the whole English nation in his age. Not a single character has
escaped him. All his pilgrims are severally distinguished from each
other, and not only in their inclinations, but in their very
physiognomies and persons. I see them as perfectly before me,--their
humours, their features, and their very dress--as distinctly as if I had
supped with them at the Tabard in Southwark. The matter and manner of
their tales, and of their telling, are so suited to their different
educations, humours, and callings, that each of them would be improper
in any other mouth. Even the