is life and for some time afterwards, was considered by
a greater part of readers as supremely excelling both in poetry and
criticism. Part of his reputation may be probably ascribed to the
advancement of his fortune; when, as Swift observes, he became a
statesman, and saw poets waiting at his levee, it was no wonder that
praise was accumulated upon him. Much likewise may be more honourably
ascribed to his personal character: he who, if he had claimed it, might
have obtained the diadem, was not likely to be denied the laurel. But
time quickly puts an end to artificial and accidental fame; and Addison
is to pass through futurity protected only by his genius. Every name
which kindness or interest once raised too high is in danger, lest the
next age should, by the vengeance of criticism, sink it in the same
proportion. A great writer has lately styled him "an indifferent poet,
and a worse critic." His poetry is first to be considered; of which
it must be confessed that it has not often those felicities of diction
which give lustre to sentiments, or that vigour of sentiment that
animates diction: there is little of ardour, vehemence, or transport;
there is very rarely the awfulness of grandeur, and not very often the
splendour of elegance. He thinks justly, but he thinks faintly. This is
his general character; to which, doubtless, many single passages will
furnish exception. Yet, if he seldom reaches supreme excellence,
he rarely sinks into dulness, and is still more rarely entangled in
absurdity. He did not trust his powers enough to be negligent. There is
in most of his compositions a calmness and equability, deliberate and
cautious, sometimes with little that delights, but seldom with anything
that offends. Of this kind seem to be his poems to Dryden, to Somers,
and to the King. His ode on St. Cecilia has been imitated by Pope, and
has something in it of Dryden's vigour. Of his Account of the English
Poets he used to speak as a "poor thing;" but it is not worse than his
usual strain. He has said, not very judiciously, in his character of
Waller--

"Thy verse could show even Cromwell's innocence,
And compliment the storms that bore him hence.
Oh! had thy Muse not come an age too soon,
But seen great Nassau on the British throne,
How had his triumph glittered in thy page!"

What is this but to say that he who could compliment Cromwell had been
the proper poet for King William? Addison, howeve