cover the character of either the
lady or her guardian. History relates that she was about to disparage
herself by a marriage with an inferiour; Pope praises her for the
dignity of ambition, and yet condemns the uncle to detestation for his
pride; the ambitious love of a niece may be opposed by the interest,
malice, or envy of an uncle, but never by his pride. On such an occasion
a poet may be allowed to be obscure, but inconsistency never can be
right[148].

The Ode for St. Cecilia's Day was undertaken at the desire of Steele:
in this the author is generally confessed to have miscarried, yet he has
miscarried only as compared with Dryden; for he has far outgone other
competitors. Dryden's plan is better chosen; history will always take
stronger hold of the attention than fable: the passions excited by
Dryden are the pleasures and pains of real life, the scene of Pope is
laid in imaginary existence; Pope is read with calm acquiescence, Dryden
with turbulent delight; Pope hangs upon the ear, and Dryden finds the
passes of the mind.

Both the odes want the essential constituent of metrical compositions,
the stated recurrence of settled numbers. It may be alleged that Pindar
is said by Horace to have written "numeris lege solutis:" but as no such
lax performances have been transmitted to us, the meaning of that
expression cannot be fixed; and, perhaps, the like return might properly
be made to a modern Pindarist, as Mr. Cobb received from Bentley, who,
when he found his criticisms upon a Greek exercise, which Cobb had
presented, refuted one after another by Pindar's authority, cried out,
at last, "Pindar was a bold fellow, but thou art an impudent one."

If Pope's ode be particularly inspected, it will be found that the first
stanza consists of sounds well chosen indeed, but only sounds.

The second consists of hyperbolical commonplaces, easily to be found,
and, perhaps, without much difficulty to be as well expressed.

In the third, however, there are numbers, images, harmony, and vigour,
not unworthy the antagonist of Dryden. Had all been like this--but every
part cannot be the best.

The next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of
mythology, where neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow, can be
found: the poet, however, faithfully attends us: we have all that can be
performed by elegance of diction, or sweetness of versification; but
what can form avail without better matter?

The la