forded him. His temper was,
in consequence of the dominion of his passions, uncertain and
capricious; he was easily engaged, and easily disgusted; but he is
accused of retaining his hatred more tenaciously than his benevolence.

He was compassionate both by nature and principle, and always ready to
perform offices of humanity; but when he was provoked (and very small
offences were sufficient to provoke him) he would prosecute his revenge
with the utmost acrimony till his passion had subsided.

His friendship was, therefore, of little value; for, though he was
zealous in the support or vindication of those whom he loved, yet it was
always dangerous to trust him, because he considered himself as
discharged, by the first quarrel, from all ties of honour or gratitude;
and would betray those secrets which, in the warmth of confidence, had
been imparted to him. This practice drew upon him an universal
accusation of ingratitude: nor can it be denied that he was very ready
to set himself free from the load of an obligation; for he could not
bear to conceive himself in a state of dependence, his pride being
equally powerful with his other passions, and appearing in the form of
insolence at one time, and of vanity at another. Vanity, the most
innocent species of pride, was most frequently predominant: he could not
easily leave off, when he had once begun to mention himself or his
works; nor ever read his verses without stealing his eyes from the page,
to discover, in the faces of his audience, how they were affected with
any favourite passage.

A kinder name than that of vanity ought to be given to the delicacy
with which he was always careful to separate his own merit from every
other man's, and to reject that praise to which he had no claim. He did
not forget, in mentioning his performances, to mark every line that had
been suggested or amended; and was so accurate, as to relate that he
owed three words in the Wanderer to the advice of his friends.

His veracity was questioned, but with little reason; his accounts,
though not indeed always the same, were generally consistent. When he
loved any man, he suppressed all his faults; and, when he had been
offended by him, concealed all his virtues; but his characters were
generally true, so far as he proceeded; though it cannot be denied, that
his partiality might have sometimes the effect of falsehood.

In cases indifferent, he was zealous for virtue, truth, and justice; he
kne