one of the sublimest and most masterly efforts of genius we have
ever seen.--There are some hints taken from Cowley's beautiful Hymn to
Light.--Mr. Thomson has subjoined a Hymn to the Seasons, which is not
inferior to the foregoing in poetical merit.

The Four Seasons considered separately, each Season as a distinct poem
has been judged defective in point of plan. There appears no particular
design; the parts are not subservient to one another; nor is there any
dependance or connection throughout; but this perhaps is a fault almost
inseparable from a subject in itself so diversified, as not to admit of
such limitation. He has not indeed been guilty of any incongruity; the
scenes described in spring, are all peculiar to that season, and the
digressions, which make up a fourth part of the poem, flow naturally. He
has observed the same regard to the appearances of nature in the other
seasons; but then what he has described in the beginning of any of the
seasons, might as well be placed in the middle, and that in the middle,
as naturally towards the close. So that each season may rather be called
an assemblage of poetical ideas, than a poem, as it seems written
without a plan.

Mr. Thomson's poetical diction in the Seasons is very peculiar to him:
His manner of writing is entirely his own: He has introduced a number of
compound words; converted substantives into verbs, and in short has
created a kind of new language for himself. His stile has been blamed
for its singularity and stiffness; but with submission to superior
judges, we cannot but be of opinion, that though this observation is
true, yet is it admirably fitted for description. The object he paints
stands full before the eye, we admire it in all its lustre, and who
would not rather enjoy a perfect inspection into a natural curiosity
through a microscope capable of discovering all the minute beauties,
though its exterior form should not be comely, than perceive an object
but faintly, through a microscope ill adapted for the purpose, however
its outside may be decorated. Thomson has a stiffness in his manner, but
then his manner is new; and there never yet arose a distinguished
genius, who had not an air peculiarly his own. 'Tis true indeed, the
tow'ring sublimity of Mr. Thomson's stile is ill adapted for the tender
passions, which will appear more fully when we consider him as a
dramatic writer, a sphere in which he is not so excellent as in other
species of poetry