eans pedantic, or imposed upon the
conversation, but just such, and went so far, as by the natural turns of
the discourse in which he was engaged, it was necessarily prompted, or
required. He was extremely ready and gentle in the correction of the
errors of any writer, who thought fit to consult him, and full as ready
and patient to admit of the reprehension of others in respect of his
own oversight or mistakes. He was of a very easy, I may say, of very
pleasing access; but something slow, and as it were dissident in his
advances to others. He had something in his nature that abhorred
intrusion in any society whatsoever; and indeed, it is to be regretted,
that he was rather blameable on the other extreme. He was of all men I
ever knew, the most modest, and the most easy to be discountenanced
in his approaches, either to his superiors or his equals.--As to his
writings--may venture to say in general terms, that no man hath written
in our language so much, and so various matter; and in so various
manners so well. Another thing I may say, was very peculiar to him,
which is, that his parts did not decline with his years, but that he was
an improving writer to the last, even to near 70 years of age, improving
even in fire and imagination as well as in judgment, witness his Ode
on St. Cecilia's Day, and his fables, his latest performances. He was
equally excellent in verse and prose: His prose had all the clearness
imaginable, without deviating to the language or diction of poetry, and
I have heard him frequently own with pleasure, that if he had any talent
for writing prose; it was owing to his frequently having read the
writings of the great archbishop Tillotson. In his poems, his diction
is, wherever his subject requires it, so sublime and so truly poetical,
that it's essence, like that of pure gold cannot be destroyed. Take his
verses, and divest them of their rhimes, disjoint them of their numbers,
transpose their expressions, make what arrangement or disposition you
please in his words; yet shall there eternally be poetry, and something
which will be found incapable of being reduced to absolute prose; what
he has done in any one species, or distinct kind of writing, would
have been sufficient to have acquired him a very great name. If he had
written nothing but his Prefaces, or nothing but his Songs, or his
Prologues, each of them would have entitled him to the preference and
distinction of excelling in its kind.'

Besi