as a new tragedy, not a revival of the former.

Many of his friends blamed him for not making choice of another subject;
but in vindication of himself he asserted that it was not easy to find a
better; and that he thought it his interest to extinguish the memory of
the first tragedy, which he could only do by writing one less defective
upon the same story; by which he should entirely defeat the artifice of
the booksellers, who, after the death of any author of reputation, are
always industrious to swell his works by uniting his worst productions
with his best. In the execution of this scheme, however, he proceeded
but slowly, and probably only employed himself upon it when he could
find no other amusement; but he pleased himself with counting the
profits, and perhaps imagined that the theatrical reputation which he
was about to acquire would be equivalent to all that he had lost by the
death of his patroness. He did not, in confidence of his approaching
riches, neglect the measures proper to secure the continuance of his
pension, though some of his favourers thought him culpable for omitting
to write on her death; but on her birthday next year he gave a proof of
the solidity of his judgment and the power of his genius. He knew that
the track of elegy had been so long beaten that it was impossible to
travel in it without treading in the footsteps of those who had
gone before him; and that therefore it was necessary, that he might
distinguish himself from the herd of encomiasts, to find out some new
walk of funeral panegyric. This difficult task he performed in such a
manner that his poem may be justly ranked among the best pieces that the
death of princes has produced. By transferring the mention of her death
to her birthday, he has formed a happy combination of topics which any
other man would have thought it very difficult to connect in one view,
but which he has united in such a manner that the relation between them
appears natural; and it may be justly said that what no other man would
have thought on, it now appears scarcely possible for any man to miss.

The beauty of this peculiar combination of images is so masterly that
it is sufficient to set this poem above censure; and therefore it is not
necessary to mention many other delicate touches which may be found in
it, and which would deservedly be admired in any other performance. To
these proofs of his genius may be added, from the same poem, an
instance of his pr