is in a higher strain
than the Three, and why not? The goddess had a greater empire than
Warton, who was a provincial, had ever dreamt of in his philosophy; but,
in Pope's wide imagination, it stood with all its realms. The hero had
no more to say or to do--Cibber was banished to Cimmeria for life, to
work in the mines--and Dulness had forgotten she ever saw his face.

"Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night,
To blot out order, and extinguish light,
Of dull and venal a new world to mould,
And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold."

That long clumsy sentence about "a marvellous mixture and jumble of
images and sentiments," &c. &c. &c., is pure nonsense. In itself, the
Fourth Book is most harmoniously constructed as a work of art, and it
rises out of, and ascends from the Third, a completed creation. To call
that YAWN mock-heroic, would be profane--it is sublime!

"Speaking of the _Dunciad_," continues the Doctor, "as a work of art, in
a critical, not religious light, I must venture to affirm, that the
subject of this Fourth Book was foreign and heterogeneous, and the
addition of it is injudicious, ill-placed, and incongruous, as any of
those similar images we meet with in Pulci or Ariosto." The addition of
a Fourth Book to a poem, previously consisting of Three, is not an image
at all, look at it how you will, and cannot therefore be compared with
"any of those dissimilar images we meet with in Pulci or Ariosto." We
much admire Pulci and Ariosto, especially Ariosto, but they and their
dissimilar images have no business here; and were Dr Joseph alive any
where in the neighbourhood, we should whistle in his ear not to be so
ostentatious in displaying his Italian literature, which was too thin to
keep out the rain.

"It is," he keeps stuttering on, "like introducing a crucifix into one
of Teniers's burlesque conversation pieces." We see no reason why a
crucifix should not be in the room of a good Catholic during a burlesque
conversation; and Teniers, if he never have, might have painted one in
such a piece without offence, had he chosen to do so; but the question
we ask, simply is, what did Doctor Joseph Warton mean? Just nothing at
all.

"On the whole," stammereth the Doctor further on, "the chief fault of
the _Dunciad_ is the violence and vehemence of its satire." The same
fault may be found with vitriolic acid, nay, with Richardson's Ultimate
Result. No doubt, that for many domestic purposes water is
p