e of Young. We
are far, however, from being opposed, with some critics, to the principle
of paraphrasing Scripture. We admire to enthusiasm many of the Scottish
paraphrases, some of Byron's and Moore's Hebrew Melodies, and Croly's
_Scenes from Scripture_; and should like to see all the poetry of the
Bible versified by some competent hand.

In 1721 appeared "The Revenge," by far the most powerful of his
tragedies. Its great fault lies in its likeness to Othello: its great
praise is, that, though it imitates and challenges comparison with that
Shakspearean masterpiece, it has not been utterly sunk and eclipsed
before it. As a play, we think it decidedly second-rate; the plot is not
artistically managed, and the means by which jealousy is excited in the
mind of Alonzo, are a very poor and shabby copy of those in Shakspeare.
Zanga has been called a "vulgar caricature of Iago;" he is so in part,
perhaps, but Young has abated the vulgarity of the imitation by endowing
his hero with a wild and native vein of poetry. Iago is a subtler, colder
fiend than Zanga, and indulges more in sneers and in smut than in
declamation. Zanga's speeches exhaust the rhetoric of revenge. Iago has
nothing but intellect, wit, and malignity. Zanga has an imagination
worthy of the hot and lion-peopled land of his birth. Iago, after his
detection, sinks into obstinate silence; he stiffens into the statue of a
demon. Zanga dies, using lofty imagery.

Indeed, "The Revenge" owes all its interest to the flames of poetic
genius which burst out at every pore of its otherwise coarse and copied
structure. It was dedicated to Wharton, with whom Young continued to be
intimate; whom he taught to speak good Latin _in the space of six weeks_;
and who lent him money to reimburse him for the expenses of an
unsuccessful attempt to get into Parliament. This was in 1721; the place
was Cirencester. The election, however, was contested, and fortunately,
perhaps, both for Young and the world, he was unsuccessful. Had he gained
the seat, he had very probably,

"Though born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,
And to party given up what was meant for mankind;"

and what comparison between a series of eloquent, forgotten speeches, and
the starry, ever-burning splendours of the "Night Thoughts"?

His disappointment in this attempt, coupled, probably, with remorse for
the follies and vices of a misspent youth, seems to have soured Young,
and ripened him to the point w