ue; but in this he is an instance how easy it
is to discover faults in other men's works, and how difficult to avoid
them in our own.

Dr. Trap's translation is close, and conveys the author's meaning
literally, so consequently may be fitter for a school-boy, but men of
riper judgment, and superior taste, will hardly approve it; if Dryden's
is the most spirited of any translation, Trap's is the dullest that ever
was written; which proves that none but a good poet is fit to translate
the works of a good poet.

Besides the original pieces and translations hitherto mentioned, Mr.
Dryden wrote many others, published in six volumes of Miscellanies, and
in other collections. They consist of translations from the Greek and
Latin poets, Epistles to several persons, prologues, and epilogues to
several plays, elegies, epitaphs, and songs. His last work was his
Fables, ancient and modern, translated into verse from Homer, Ovid,
Boccace, and Chaucer. To this work, which is perhaps, one of his most
imperfect, is prefixed by way of preface, a critical account of the
authors, from whom the fables are translated. Among the original pieces,
the Ode to St. Cecilia's day is justly esteemed one of the most elevated
in any language. It is impossible for a poet to read this without being
filled with that sort of enthusiasm which is peculiar to the inspired
tribe, and which Dryden largely felt when he composed it. The turn
of the verse is noble, the transitions surprizing, the language and
sentiments just, natural, and heightened. We cannot be too lavish in
praise of this Ode: had Dryden never wrote any thing besides, his name
had been immortal. Mr. Pope has the following beautiful lines in its
praise.[6]

Hear how Timotheus varied lays surprize,
And bid alternate passions fall and rise!
While, at each change, the son of Lybian Jove
Now burns with glory, and then melts with love:
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow;
Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to flow;
Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found,
And the world's victor flood subdued by sound:
The power of music all our hearts allow;
And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now.

As to our author's performances in prose, besides his Dedications and
Prefaces, and controversial Writings, they consist of the Lives of
Plutarch and Lucian, prefixed to the Translation of those Authors, by
several Hands; the Life of Polybius; before the Translation of that
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