o had seen what he had finished,
tormented him till he had consented to publish a few books in a journal.
He was then, I believe, very young, about twenty-five. The rest was
printed at different periods, four books at a time. The reception given
to the first specimens was highly flattering. He was nearly thirty years
in finishing the whole poem, but of these thirty years not more than two
were employed in the composition. He only composed in favourable
moments; besides he had other occupations. He values himself upon the
plan of his odes, and accuses the modern lyrical writers of gross
deficiency in this respect. I laid the same accusation against Horace:
he would not hear of it--but waived the discussion. He called
Rousseau's ODE TO FORTUNE a moral dissertation in stanzas.[230] I spoke
of Dryden's ST. CECILIA; but be did not seem familiar with our writers.
He wished to know the distinctions between our dramatic and epic blank
verse.

[230] (A la Fortune. Liv. II. Ode vi. Oeuvres de Jean Baptiste Rousseau,
p.121, edit. 1820. One of the latter strophes of this ode concludes with
two lines, which, as the editor observes, have become a proverb, and of
which the thought and expression are borrowed from Lucretius: _cripitur
persona, manet res:_ III. v. 58.

Montrez nous, guerriers magnanimes,
Votre vertu dans tout son jour:
Voyons comment vos coeurs sublimes
Du sort soutiendront le retour.
Tant que sa faveur vous seconde,
Vous etes les maitres du monde,
Votre gloire nous eblouit:
Mais au moindre revers funeste,
_Le masque tombe, l'homme reste,
Et le heros s'evanouit_.

Horace, says the Editor, en traitant ce meme sujet, liv. X. ode XXXV. et
Pindare en l'esquissant a grands traits, au commencement de sa douzieme
Olympique, n'avoient laisse a leurs successeurs que son cote moral a
envisager, et c'est le parti que prit Rousseau. The general sentiment of
the ode is handled with great dignity in Paradise Regained. Bk. III. l.
43--157--a passage which, as Thyer says, contains the quintessence of
the subject. Dante has some noble lines on Fortune in the viith canto of
the _Inferno_,--lines worthy of a great mystic poet. After referring to
the vain complaints and maledictions of men against this Power, he
beautifully concludes:

Ma ella s'e beata e cio non ode:
Con l'altre prime creature lieta
_Volve sua spera, e beata si gode_.

J.B. Rousseau was born in 16