worlds, and then imagined new.' But, in reality, the new worlds could only be made up of the elements supplied by the old. For Caliban, as well as Falstaff, the materials were ready to his hand. The component parts of the latter abounded in common life. The materials of the monstrous character abounded in the floating legends of the age; an age, when the names and offices of familiar spirits were as familiar to the ear, and as well believed, as those of human beings;-an age, in which the reigning monarch wrote a treatise on the horns and tail of the devil. To the Rosicrucian philosophy we are indebted for the nominal machinery of the inimitable tragedy of the Tempest; though to Shakespeare we are indebted for all that genius could do with such machinery. Nor is it improbable, that, in some of those legends of Italian fable, from which so many of his plays are derived, he found the very name and offices of his admired Caliban, the witch's bastard by the rape of a demon *.

We are next presented with two whole lectures on Milton. In the first, our lecturer engages to demonstrate, with almost mathematical precision, that Milton is the first, because the most sublime of all poets.' The steps of Mr Stockdale's demonstration, however, appear to us more of a legal than a mathematical nature. He subpoenas two witnesses to character; Addison is one; Johnson the other. Addison's evidence is wholly favourable; John

I was informed, (fays Mr Warton, fpeaking of an old romance, Aurelio and Ifabella); I was informed, by the late Mr Collins of Chichefter, that Shakespeare's Tempeft, for which no origin ts yet affigued, was formed on this favourite romance. But although this information has not proved true, on examination, an useful conclufion may be drawn from it, that Shakespeare's story is fomewhere to be found in an Italian novel; at leaft, that the ftory preceded Shakespeare. Mr Collins had fearched this fubject with no lefs fidelity, than judgment and in duftry; but his memory failing, in his laft calamitous indifpofition, probably gave me the name of one novel for another. I remember he added a circumftance, which may lead to a discovery, that the principal character of the romance, answering to Shakespeare's Profpero, who had bound a fpirit, like Ariel, to obey his call, and perform his fervices. It was a common pretence of the dealers in occult sciences, to have a demon at command. At leaft, Aurelio, or Orelio, was probably one of the names of this romance, the production and multiplication being the grand object of alchymy. Taken at large, the magical part of the Tempeft is founded in that fort of philofophy which was practifed by John Dee and his affociates, and has been called the Roficrucian. The name Ariel came from the Talmudiftic myfteries, with which the learned Jews had infected this fcience.'

Warton's Hiflory of English Poetry, Vol. III. p. 478.

son's is partly unfavourable; but, by skilful cross-questioning, he is made to contradict himself. He then triumphantly exclaims to Johnson, Out of thine own mouth I will condemn thee. The glaring inconsistences of Johnson, do indeed convict him; but this, in law, would only set aside the credibility of his evidence. In criticism it is a two-edged argument; it invalidates the faith of his praise as well as of his censure. I object to the sincerity of Dr Johnson's censure, says the worshipper of Milton, because I can confront them with his praises. And I object to his praises, the assailant of Milton's merit will reply, because I can confront them with his censures. This proves that the merits of poets are to be debated on their own grounds, not merely on the critical authorities for or against them.

Let us admit, however, that Milton's greatness is established by such judicial process,-established it surely is by the testimony which every mind alive to the beautiful and the great will bear to his genius: still, we object to the truth of our lecturer's text, that Milton is the greatest of all poets; or, to adopt the still wilder words of his declamation, that all other poets are babies compared to him.' The claim to this supremacy is founded on Milton's sublimity; and the following definition of sublimity is subjoined. I shall endeavour,' says Mr Stockdale, to give a comprehensive and clear idea, or definition, of that capital species of writing. To write then with sublimity, is to chuse the greatest or the most splendid, or the most awful, existing or imaginable objects, and to express or display them with a corresponding propriety, force, and majesty of expression. Now, we object, with great deference, to the clearness of this definition; for it tells us no more than that sublime writers chuse great subjects, and write with great dignity upon them. Nor can we admit sublimity to be called a species of writing, as if it were the epic, the tragic, or the pastoral; it is a quality, not a species of writing; it is a quality, too, which comprehends considerable varieties. The sublime in splendour of conception, in pomp of language, in description of prodigious things, is Milton's. Analogies are unsafe illustrations, but the reader of Milton has probably felt from his influence, an impression quite analogous to that elevating pleasure which cartoon paintings of the first masters excite. Nothing can exceed, in the quality of sublime, those pictures of the fallen angels in their march over Hell, and in their council of Pandemonium. Nothing, in beauty or sublimity, can exceed (we shall say generally) the first six books of the Paradise Lost. But this excellence, this sublimity, and this beauty which nothing eclipses, does not necessarily eclipse all other excellence. Milton's glory may consist in

his subject that subject has certainly afforded his genius ample room for some of the finest scenes and finest passages of human writing. But the common testimony of mankind permits us to say, without fear of being called presumptuous, that, as a whole, Paradise Lost is deficient in interest; that the last six books do most palpably fall off; and, that the warfare between God and his creatures is a constant bar to our sympathy with either victor or vanquished, and annihilates, what is the soul of pleasure in poetical narration, curiosity. These expressions are not Johnsonian cavils; they contain all that cane fairly said in objection to Milton, and nothing more. How much still remains to excite our veneration! Allowing therefore to Milton every praise that can be pronounced on those passages, and even entire books, where the agents of his poem, his speeches and conception of character are sublime; still, this quality of sublimity, does not absorb all excellence. The state of fancy excited by it, is not, by its nature, suited for long possession of the human mind. It keeps its faculties on the utmost stretch; it is of itself but a single quality and though it does not exist in Milton, any more than in other great poets, unconnected with the beautiful and pathetic; yet, if it be assumed as the ground of Milton's claim to supremacy in poetry, we are entitled to say, that a certain union of other constituent qualities of a poet, are, collective ly, paramount to its greatness. The opinion which, we make bold to say, the world at large maintain, is, that the aggregate of all the poetical qualities of Shakespeare is superior to that of Milton's, including his sublimity and every other claim to admira

tion.

If the epic poet be sublime, so is our great tragedian. We do not pretend to divide the general term sublime with unnecessary distinction; yet, when we say that Shakespeare is sublime, we must speak more of his merit in the aggregate than judging him by detached passages. His sublimity is more strong than brilliant; it lies more in effect than in perceptible manner. It is like listening to an orator, of whose powers of persuasion we are not fully conscious till he has finished his discourse. When we peruse the dialogue of his dramas, so much of the familiar occurs in his language, that the triumph over our sympathies seems to be obtained without an effort of the poet. The design of Milton to dazzle us with splendid, and overwhelm us with great images, is always obvious. Milton has all the ensigns and regalia of sovereign genius; Shakespeare all the power and prerogative. Let us recur to an instance of the sublime in Shakespeare, and it will illustrate this distinction. Take the scene of Macbeth relating bis murder of Duncan to Lady Macbeth. There's one did

laugh in his sleep, and one cried murder. '-The dialogue commencing with this line, has no passage, which, taken separately, and read to a person unacquainted with the play, would seem a a specimen of sublime composition; yet, the effect of the whole, when we read the play, is sublime; it is like something more than human language. If the terrors of the tragic muse be not sublime, by what name shall we call them? Let us again suppose it possible to find a person susceptible of poetical impressions, who had not read Milton, and we should have no difficulty, inevery page, to quote such sentences as would strike him, though read unconnectedly, with wonder and delight ;—such lines as the: description of Satan and his peers. He spoke, and to confirm his words outflew millions of flaming swords,' &c. But let such. a reader, even warm and fresh from the bright wonders of Paradise Lost, submit his feelings to the influence of some of Shakespeare's best tragedies, and the result, we think, will be, that, judging by collective effect, by creation of character, by vivid imitation of nature, and by combined and general tests of genius, he will award the superiority to Shakespeare.

Nor would this judgment be formed exclusively on the creative originality of our dramatic master. Without reference to their comparative power over the passions of terror and pity, let the testimony of mankind decide, which of the two poets is richer in those sentences which contain as it were the pith, the quintessence, the condensed originality, which might serve for the texts of volumes, for the motto of every situation in life. Is the poet from whom it has been emphatically said, that philosophers might learn wisdom and courtiers politeness,' is this poet one of the babies compared to Milton?

In the praise of Milton's minor. poems, our author is deservedly enthusiastic. There is one piece which has escaped his eulogy, and which, from being omitted in many editions of Milton's works, is less popularly known than its extreme majesty and picturesque beauty seem to deserve. We allude to the speech of the Genius of the Wood in the Arcades.

For know, by lot from Jove, I am the Power
Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower,
To nurfe the faplings tall, and curl the grove
With ringlets, quaint and wanton windings wove;
And all my plants I fave from nightly ill
Of noifome winds and blasting vapors chill,
And from the boughs brush off the evil dew,
And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue,
Or what the crofs dire-looking planet fmites,
Or hurtful worm with canker'd venom bites;

When

When evening grey doth rife, I fetch my round.
Over the mount and all this hallow'd ground,
And early, ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the flumbering leaves, or taffell'd horn
Shakes the high thicket, hafte I all about,
Number my ranks, and vifit every sprout
With puiffant words and murmurs made to blefs:
But elfe, in deep of night, when drowsiness
Hath lock'd up mortal fenfe, then liften I
To the celeftial Syrens' harmony,
That fit upon the nine enfolded fpheres,
And fing to thofe that hold the fatal sheers,
And turn the adamantine spindle round,
On which the fate of gods and men is wound :
Such fweet compulfion doth in mufic lie,
To lull the daughters of Neceffity,

And keep unfteady nature to her law,

And the low world in measured motion draw
After the heavenly tune, which none may hear

Of human mould with grofs unpurged ear.' &c. &c.

The rich and diversified merits of Dryden, form, as our author justly remarks, not an abrupt descent from the sublimity of Milton. Whether we recollect him as a lyric, a narrative, dramatic, political, or satyrical poet, or as a translator, the name of Dryden summons up recollections of excellence. The union of critical with poetical power; the vigour and the hale manliness of expression which for ever look fresh in his sentences and lines; the majestic force without harshness, and the perfect and downright English of Dryden's style, entitle him to this great succes-sion, and perhaps rank him in merit the fourth after Spencer, Shakespeare and Milton, of English poets. If, indeed, we could forget Otway, there would be no need of qualifying this opinion; but the pathos of Otway, after all, as it stands single in competition with the infinite varieties of Dryden's merit, allow us ra ther to suggest, than to dwell upon a doubt of their comparative rank. Nor is there to be found, in all the treasures of biography, a life more interesting than Dryden's. In the midst of all its alloy, his genius commands our admiration, as his character, though degraded by several imperfections, attaches our regard. The life of Otway, imperfectly as it is given, exhibits a mind of finer sensibility, sinking under adversity. Dryden's teems with interest and with instruction. While the few and venial spots which poverty left upon his fame, may afford a lesson to the wisest, and a caution to the weakest; his unassuming modesty, his fortitude, his industry, and his high spirit, will teach no less improving an example. His creative powers are less by far than

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those