me of that author's
beauties into his noble work, as well as some other flowers culled
from the gardens of inferior genius's; but by an elegance of art, and
force of nature, peculiar to him, he has drawn the admiration of the
world upon passages, which in their original authors, stood neglected
and undistinguished. If at any time he has adopted a sentiment of a
cotemporary poet, it deserves another name than plagiary; for, as
Garth expresses it, in the case of Dryden, who was charged with
plagiary, that, like ladies of quality who borrow beggars children, it
is only to cloath them the better, and we know no higher compliment
could have been paid to these moderns, than that of Milton's doing
them the honour to peruse them, for, like a Prince's accepting a
present from a subject, the glory is reflected on him who offers the
gift, not on the Monarch who accepts it. But as Mr. Lauder's book has
lately made so great a noise in the world, we must beg leave to be a
little more particular.

Had Mr. Lauder pursued his plan of disclosing Milton's resources, and
tracing his steps through the vast tracts of erudition that our author
travelled, with candour and dispassionateness, the design would have
been noble and useful; he then would have produced authors into light
who were before unknown; have recommended sacred poetry, and it would
have been extreamly pleasing to have followed Milton over all his
classic ground, and seen where the noblest genius of the world thought
proper to pluck a flower, and by what art he was able to rear upon the
foundation of nature so magnificent, so astonishing a fabric: but in
place of that, Mr. Lauder suffers himself to be overcome by his
passion, and instead of tracing him as a man of taste, and extensive
reading, he hunts him like a malefactor, and seems to be determined on
his execution.

Mr. Lauder could never separate the idea of the author of Paradise
Lost, and the enemy of King Charles. Lauder has great reading, but
greater ill nature; and Mr. Douglas has shewn how much his evidence is
invalidated by some interpolations which Lauder has since owned. It is
pity so much classical knowledge should have been thus prostituted by
Lauder, which might have been of service to his country; but
party-zeal seldom knows any bounds. The ingenious Moses Brown,
speaking of this man's furious attack upon Milton, has the following
pretty stanza.

The Owl will hoot that cannot sing,
Spite will displum