incidents which had
occurred in that space gave it some title. The poem being in the elegiac
stanza, Dryden relapsed into an imitation of "Gondibert," from which he
had departed ever since the "Elegy on Cromwell." From this it appears,
that the author's admiration of Davenant had not decreased. Indeed, he,
long afterwards, bore testimony to that author's quick and piercing
imagination; which at once produced thoughts remote, new, and
surprising, such as could not easily enter into any other fancy. Dryden
at least equalled Davenant in this quality; and certainly excelled him
in the powers of composition, which are to embody the conceptions of the
imagination; and in the extent of acquired knowledge, by which they were
to be enforced and illustrated. In his preface, he has vindicated the
choice of his stanza, by a reference to the opinion of Davenant,[47]
which he sanctions by affirming, that he had always himself thought
quatrains, or stanzas of verse in alternate rhyme, more noble, and of
greater dignity, both for sound and number, than any other verse in use
among us. By this attention to sound and rhythm, he improved upon the
school of metaphysical poets, which disclaimed attention to either; but
in the thought and expression itself, the style of Davenant more nearly
resembled Cowley's, than that of Denham and Waller. The same ardour for
what Dryden calls "wit-writing," the same unceasing exercise of the
memory, in search of wonderful thoughts and allusions, and the same
contempt for the subject, except as the medium of displaying the
author's learning and ingenuity, marks the style of Davenant, though in
a less degree than that of the metaphysical poets, and though chequered
with many examples of a simpler and chaster character. Some part of this
deviation was, perhaps, owing to the nature of the stanza; for the
structure of the quatrain prohibited the bard, who used it, from
rambling into those digressive similes, which, in the pindaric strophe,
might be pursued through endless ramifications. If the former started an
extravagant thought, or a quaint image, he was compelled to bring it to
a point within his four-lined stanza. The snake was thus scotched,
though not killed; and conciseness being rendered indispensable, a great
step was gained towards concentration of thought, which is necessary to
the simple and to the sublime The manner of Davenant, therefore, though
short-lived, and ungraced by public applause, was a