greater than that of the former, inasmuch as
he touched upon a far wider variety of topics, and for that reason
obtained a far larger circle of readers in the century following his
death. There was also the same steady improvement in Dryden's critical
taste that there was in his poetical expression. His admiration for
Shakespeare constantly improved during his whole life; and it is to be
noticed that in what is generally regarded as the best of his
plays--'All for Love,' brought out in the winter of 1677-78--he of his
own accord abandoned rhyme for blank verse.

The publication of the 'Fables' was Dryden's last appearance before
the public. In the following year he died, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey by the side of Chaucer and Cowley. After his death
his fame steadily increased instead of diminishing. For a long period
his superiority in his particular line was ungrudgingly conceded by
all, or if contested, was contested by Pope alone. His poetry indeed
is not of the highest kind, though usually infinitely superior to that
of his detractors. Still his excellences were those of the intellect
and not of the spirit. On the higher planes of thought and feeling he
rarely moves; to the highest he never aspires. The nearest he ever
approaches to the former is in his later work, where religious
emotion or religious zeal has lent to expression the aid of its
intensity. There is a striking example of this in the personal
references to his own experiences in the lines cited below from 'The
Hind and the Panther.' Something too of the same spirit can be found,
expressed in lofty language, in the following passage from the same
poem, descriptive of the unity of the Church of Rome as contrasted
with the numerous warring sects into which the Protestant body is
divided:--

"One in herself, not rent by schism, but sound,
Entire, one solid shining diamond,
Not sparkles shattered into sects like you:
One is the Church, and must be to be true,
One central principle of unity.
As undivided, so from errors free;
As one in faith, so one in sanctity.
Thus she, and none but she, the insulting rage
Of heretics opposed from age to age;
Still when the giant brood invades her throne,
She stoops from heaven and meets them half-way down,
And with paternal thunders vindicates her crown.

* * * * *

"Thus one, thus pure, behold her largely spread,
Like the fair ocean from her moth