r'd with active life;
To prove, by these, the sons of men may owe
The fruits of bliss to bursting clouds of woe;
That e'en calamity, by thought refin'd,
Inspirits and adorns the thinking mind.

And more distinctly in the following passage:

By woe, the soul to daring action swells;
By woe, in plaintless patience it excels:
From patience, prudent clear experience springs,
And traces knowledge through the course of things!
Thence hope is form'd, thence fortitude, success,
Renown--whate'er men covet and caress.

This performance was always considered by himself as his masterpiece;
and Mr. Pope, when he asked his opinion of it, told him, that he read it
once over, and was not displeased with it; that it gave him more
pleasure at the second perusal, and delighted him still more at the
third. It has been generally objected to the Wanderer, that the
disposition of the parts is irregular; that the design is obscure and
the plan perplexed; that the images, however beautiful, succeed each
other without order; and that the whole performance is not so much a
regular fabrick, as a heap of shining materials thrown together by
accident, which strikes rather with the solemn magnificence of a
stupendous ruin, than the elegant grandeur of a finished pile.

This criticism is universal, and, therefore, it is reasonable to believe
it, at least, in a great degree, just; but Mr. Savage was always of a
contrary opinion, and thought his drift could only be missed by
negligence or stupidity, and that the whole plan was regular, and the
parts distinct.

It was never denied to abound with strong representations of nature, and
just observations upon life; and it may easily be observed, that most
of his pictures have an evident tendency to illustrate his first great
position, "that good is the consequence of evil." The sun that burns up
the mountains, fructifies the vales: the deluge that rushes down the
broken rocks, with dreadful impetuosity, is separated into purling
brooks; and the rage of the hurricane purifies the air.

Even in this poem he has not been able to forbear one touch upon the
cruelty of his mother, which, though remarkably delicate and tender, is
a proof how deep an impression it had upon his mind.

This must be at least acknowledged, which ought to be thought equivalent
to many other excellencies, that this poem can promote no other purposes
than those of virtue, and that it is wri