he leading features of any
scene or character, indulged himself in a thousand minutiae of
description, a thousand puerile prettinesses, which were in themselves
uninteresting, and took off greatly from the effect of the whole; as the
numberless suckers, and straggling branches of a fruit tree, if
permitted to shoot out unrestrained, while they are themselves barren
and useless, diminish considerably the vigour of the parent stock.
_Ovid_ had more genius, but less judgement than _Virgil_; _Dryden_ more
imagination, but less correctness than _Pope_; had they not been
deficient in these points, the former would certainly have equalled, the
latter infinitely outshone the merits of his countryman.--_Our Author_
was undoubtedly possessed of that power which they wanted; and was
cautious not to indulge too far the sallies of a lively imagination.
Omitting therefore any mention of--sultry Sirius,--silvan
shade,--sequestered glade,--verdant hills,--purling rills,--mossy
mountains,--gurgling fountains,--&c. &c.--he simply tells us that it was
"_All on a Summers Day_." For my own part, I confess, that I find myself
rather flattered than disappointed; and consider the Poet as rather
paying a compliment to the abilities of his readers, than baulking their
expectations. It is certainly a great pleasure to see a picture well
painted; but it is a much greater to paint it well oneself. This
therefore I look upon as a stroke of excellent management in the Poet.
Here every reader is at liberty to gratify his own taste; to design for
himself just what sort of "_Summer's Day_" he likes best; to choose his
own scenery; dispose his lights and shades as he pleases; to solace
himself with a rivulet or a horse-pond,--a shower, or a sun-beam,--a
grove, or a kitchen garden,--according to his fancy. How much more
considerate this, than if the Poet had, from an affected accuracy of
description, thrown us into an unmannerly perspiration by the heat of
the atmosphere; forced us into a landscape of his own planning, with
perhaps a paltry good-for-nothing zephyr or two, and a limited quantity
of wood and water.--All this _Ovid_ would undoubtedly have done. Nay,
to use the expression of a learned brother-commentator, "_quovis pignore
decertem_" "I would lay any wager," that he would have gone so far as to
tell us what the tarts were made of; and perhaps wandered into an
episode on the art of preserving cherries. But _our Poet_, above such
considerations,