jected them, many have been since persuaded
to think themselves delighted. I am one of those that are willing to be
pleased, and, therefore, would gladly find the meaning of the first
stanza of the Progress of Poetry.

Gray seems, in his rapture, to confound the images of "spreading sound"
and "running water." A "stream of musick," may be allowed; but where
does "musick," however "smooth and strong," after having visited the
"verdant vales, roll down the steep amain," so as that "rocks and
nodding groves rebellow to the roar!" If this be said of musick, it is
nonsense; if it be said of water, it is nothing to the purpose.

The second stanza, exhibiting Mars' car and Jove's eagle, is unworthy of
further notice. Criticism disdains to chase a schoolboy to his
commonplaces.

To the third it may likewise be objected, that it is drawn from
mythology, though such as may be more easily assimilated to real life.
Idalia's "velvet green" has something of cant. An epithet or metaphor
drawn from nature ennobles art: an epithet or metaphor drawn from art
degrades nature. Gray is too fond of words arbitrarily compounded.
"Many-twinkling" was formerly censured as not analogical; we may say
"many-spotted," but scarcely "many-spotting." This stanza, however, has
something pleasing.

Of the second ternary of stanzas, the first endeavours to tell
something, and would have told it, had it not been crossed by Hyperion:
the second describes well enough the universal prevalence of poetry; but
I am afraid that the conclusion will not arise from the premises. The
caverns of the north and the plains of Chili are not the residences of
"Glory and generous shame." But that poetry and virtue go always
together is an opinion so pleasing, that I can forgive him who resolves
to think it true.

The third stanza sounds big with "Delphi," and "Egean," and "Ilissus,"
and "Meander," and "hallowed fountains," and "solemn sound;" but in all
Gray's odes there is a kind of cumbrflus splendour which we wish away.
His position is at last false: in the time of Dante and Petrarch, from
whom he derives our first school of poetry, Italy was overrun by "tyrant
power" and "coward vice;" nor was our state much better when we first
borrowed the Italian arts.

Of the third ternary, the first gives a mythological birth of
Shakespeare. What is said of that mighty genius is true; but it is not
said happily: the real effects of this poetical power are put out of
sight