an angel?

The calamity is unavoidable; but this circumstance does not lessen it.
New works must for a time be submitted to popular favour; but
posterity is the inheritance of genius. The man of genius, however,
who has composed this great work, calculates his vigils, is best
acquainted with its merits, and is not without an anticipation of the
future feeling of his country; he

But weeps the more, because he weeps in vain.

Such is the fate which has awaited many great works; and the heart of
genius has died away on its own labours. I need not go so far back as
the Elizabethan age to illustrate a calamity which will excite the
sympathy of every man of letters; but the great work of a man of no
ordinary genius presents itself on this occasion.

This great work is "The Polyolbion" of MICHAEL DRAYTON; a poem
unrivalled for its magnitude and its character.[135] The genealogy of
poetry is always suspicious; yet I think it owed its birth to
Leland's magnificent view of his intended work on Britain, and was
probably nourished by the "Britannia" of Camden, who inherited the
mighty industry, with out the poetical spirit, of Leland; Drayton
embraced both. This singular combination of topographical erudition
and poetical fancy constitutes a national work--a union that some may
conceive not fortunate, no more than "the slow length" of its
Alexandrine metre, for the purposes of mere delight. Yet what
theme can be more elevating than a bard chanting to his "Fatherland,"
as the Hollanders called their country? Our tales of ancient glory,
our worthies who must not die, our towns, our rivers, and our
mountains, all glancing before the picturesque eye of the naturalist
and the poet! It is, indeed, a labour of Hercules; but it was not
unaccompanied by the lyre of Apollo.

This national work was ill received; and the great author dejected,
never pardoned his contemporaries, and even lost his temper.[136]
Drayton and his poetical friends beheld indignantly the trifles of the
hour overpowering the neglected Polyolbion.

One poet tells us that

--------------------they prefer
The fawning lines of every pamphleter.
GEO. WITHERS.

And a contemporary records the utter neglect of this great poet:--

Why lives Drayton when the times refuse
Both means to live, and matter for a muse,
Only without excuse to leave us quite,
And tell us, durst we act, he durst to write?