ions.
He was a sound critic of poetry, music, architecture, and painting. His
mind and character both had distinction; and if there was something a
trifle finical and old-maidish about his personality--which led the young
Cantabs on one occasion to take a rather brutal advantage of his nervous
dread of fire--there was also that nice reserve which gave to Milton,
when _he_ was at Cambridge, the nickname of the "lady of Christ's."

A few of Gray's simpler odes, the "Ode on the Spring," the "Hymn to
Adversity" and the Eton College ode, were written in 1742 and printed in
Dodsley's collection in 1748. The "Elegy" was published in 1751; the two
"sister odes," "The Progress of Poesy" and "The Bard," were struck off
from Horace Walpole's private press at Strawberry Hill in 1757. Gray's
popular fame rests, and will always rest, upon his immortal "Elegy." He
himself denied somewhat impatiently that it was his best poem, and
thought that its popularity was owing to its subject. There are not
wanting critics of authority, such as Lowell and Matthew Arnold, who have
pronounced Gray's odes higher poetry than his "Elegy." "'The Progress of
Poesy,'" says Lowell, "overflies all other English lyrics like an
eagle. . . It was the prevailing blast of Gray's trumpet that, more than
anything else, called men back to the legitimate standard."[31] With all
deference to such distinguished judges, I venture to think that the
popular instinct on this point is right, and even that Dr. Johnson is not
so wrong as usual. Johnson disliked Gray and spoke of him with surly
injustice. Gray, in turn, could not abide Johnson, whom he called _Ursa
major_. Johnson said that Gray's odes were forced plants, raised in a
hot-house, and poor plants at that. "Sir, I do not think Gray a
first-rate poet. He has not a bold imagination, nor much command of
words. The obscurity in which he has involved himself will not persuade
us that he is sublime. His 'Elegy in a Churchyard' has a happy selection
of images, but I don't like what are called his great things." "He
attacked Gray, calling him a 'dull fellow.' Boswell: 'I understand he
was reserved, and might appear dull in company; but surely he was not
dull in poetry.' Johnson: 'Sir, he was dull in company, dull in his
closet, dull everywhere. He was dull in a new way and that made many
people think him GREAT. He was a mechanical poet.' He then repeated
some ludicrous lines, which have escaped my me