Myriads of mingling dyes from these result,
And myriads still remain--Infinite source
Of beauty ever-flushing, ever new.

About the year 1728 Mr. Thomson wrote a piece called Britannia, the
purport of which was to rouse the nation to arms, and excite in the
spirit of the people a generous disposition to revenge the injuries done
them by the Spaniards: This is far from being one of his best poems.

Upon the death of his generous patron, lord chancellor Talbot, for whom
the nation joined with Mr. Thomson in the most sincere inward sorrow, he
wrote an elegiac poem, which does honour to the author, and to the
memory of that great man he meant to celebrate. He enjoyed, during lord
Talbot's life, a very profitable place, which that worthy patriot had
conferred upon him, in recompence of the care he had taken in forming
the mind of his son. Upon his death, his lordship's successor reserved
the place for Mr. Thomson, and always expected when he should wait upon
him, and by performing some formalities enter into the possession of it.
This, however, by an unaccountable indolence he neglected, and at last
the place, which he might have enjoyed with so little trouble, was
bestowed upon another.

Amongst the latest of Mr. Thomson's productions is his Castle of
Indolence, a poem of so extraordinary merit, that perhaps we are not
extravagant, when we declare, that this single performance discovers
more genius and poetical judgment, than all his other works put
together. We cannot here complain of want of plan, for it is artfully
laid, naturally conducted, and the descriptions rise in a beautiful
succession: It is written in imitation of Spenser's stile; and the
obsolete words, with the simplicity of diction in some of the lines,
which borders on the ludicrous, have been thought necessary to make the
imitation more perfect.

'The stile (says Mr. Thomson) of that admirable poet, as well as the
measure in which he wrote, are, as it were, appropriated by custom to
all allegorical poems written in our language; just as in French, the
stile of Marot, who lived under Francis the 1st, has been used in Tales
and familiar Epistles, by the politest writers of the age of Louis the
XIVth.'

We shall not at present enquire how far Mr. Thomson is justifiable in
using the obsolete words of Spenser: As Sir Roger de Coverley observed
on another occasion, much may be said on both sides. One thing is
certain, Mr. Thomson's imitation is excell