ten in
Cowley's _worst_ manner, is the _noblest_ Ode in this Language;--of
his disdain of GRAY as a _lyric_ Poet; of the superior respect he
pays to _Yalden_, _Blackmore_, and _Pomfret_;--When these things are
urged, his Adorers seek to acquit him of _wilful_ misrepresentation
by alledging that he wanted ear for lyric numbers, and taste for the
_higher_ graces of POETRY:--but it is impossible so to believe, when
we recollect that even his _prose_ abounds with poetic efflorescence,
metaphoric conception, and harmonious cadence, which in the highest
degree adorn it, without diminishing its strength. We must look for
the source of his injustice in the envy of his temper. When Garrick
was named a Candidate for admission into the Literary Club, Dr.
Johnson told Mr. Thrale he would black-ball him. "_Who_, Sir? Mr.
Garrick! Companion of your Youth! your acknowledged Friend!" "Why,
Sir, I love my little David better than any, or all of his Flatterers
love him; but surely we ought to sit in a Society like ours,
'unelbow'd by a Gamester, Pimp, or PLAYER." See Supplement to Dr.
Johnson's Letters, published by Mrs. Piozzi. The blended hypocrisy
and malice of this sally show the man. Johnson knew, at times, how to
coax without sincerity as well as to abuse without justice. His
seeming fondness for Mrs. C---- of Lichfield, on his visits to that
City, and the contempt with which he spoke of her to her Townspeople,
was another instance of the same nature.

SONNET LXVIII.

ON THE POSTHUMOUS FAME OF DOCTOR JOHNSON.

Well it becomes thee, Britain, to avow
JOHNSON's high claims!--yet boasting that his fires
Were of _unclouded_ lustre, TRUTH retires
Blushing, and JUSTICE knits her solemn brow;
The eyes of GRATITUDE withdraw the glow
His moral strain inspir'd.--Their zeal requires
That thou should'st better guard the sacred Lyres,
Sources of thy bright fame, than to bestow
Perfection's wreath on him, whose ruthless hand,
Goaded by jealous rage, the laurels tore,
That JUSTICE, TRUTH, and GRATITUDE demand
Should deck those Lyres till Time shall be no more.--
A radiant course did Johnson's Glory run,
But large the spots that darken'd on its Sun.

SONNET LXIX.

TO A YOUNG LADY,
PURPOSING TO MARRY A MAN OF IMMORAL CHARACTER IN THE HOPE
OF HIS REFORMATION.

Time, and thy charms, thou fanciest will redeem
Yon aweless Libertine from rooted vice.
Misleading