general obscurity; the profound pathos and sweet versification of the second, notwithstanding his wretched ribald attempts at wit and humour, his imperfect delineation of character, and the wicked sin of bombast, of which he is always guilty when he wishes to be sublime; and the polish, elegant, and majestic flow of versification, the keen and indignant Satire, and the light and airy fancy of the last, notwithstanding his want of everything that can be strictly called originality or invention; I say, that these brilliant endowments of the illustrious triumvirate which I have named, are sufficient to eclipse all their imperfections, and to justify to the utmost the eulogiums of their warmest admirers. About this period, too, began that brilliant but profligate School of Comedy, which in time, could number in its ranks Wycherly, Etherege, Farquhar, Vanbrugh, Congreve, Centlivre, and, last and least, Cibber. This School has been, strangely enough, termed a French School of Comedy; though all its characteristics, both of merit and defect, appear to me to be perfectly national. The great stain of profligacy, which is unhappily impressed upon all its productions, is certainly not to be traced to the example of our neighbours; for no one, even with the most thorough conviction of the superiority of our own Literature to theirs, can pretend to point out, in the scenes of French Comedy, anything like the unblushing and shameless indelicacy which disgraces the masterpieces of English wit and humour. I fear that it is to that highly gifted duumvirate, Beaumont and Fletcher, that we must assign the "bad eminence" of having originally given to English Comedy this unfortunate characteristic. In the writings of Shakspeare, Jonson, and others of their contemporaries, we meet with occasional instances of this fault, but in none of them is it mixed up so essentially with the entire stamina and spirit of the Drama, as it is in Beaumont and Fletcher. The domination of the Puritans afterwards checked this vitiated taste; but at the Restoration it broke out again in more than pristine vigour, and continued so long to infect Dramatic Literature, that, with the exception of the "Provoked Husband" of Vanburgh and Cibber, it would be difficult to point out a single Comedy between the times of Dryden and Steele, which could possibly now be read aloud in reputable society. Decency afterwards reigned upon the Stage; but, unfortunately, she brought dulness and imbecility along with her. The reign of Queen Anne, to which our enquiries have now brought us, is a very celebrated period in the annals of English Literature, and has been generally styled its Augustan age. I am not disposed to quarrel with names. As far as Prose Literature is concerned, I am willing to admit that English Authors, during the reign of Anne, surpassed all their predecessors. The language certainly then possessed a higher polish, and was fixed upon a more durable basi, than it had ever attained before; a taste for Literature was very generally diffused, and Authors were most munificently patronized. Indeed this may rather be styled the Golden age for Authors; for eminence in polite Literature was then a passport to wealth, and honour, and sometimes to the highest offices of the State. Rowe was under Secretary for public affairs; Congreve enjoyed a lucrative post in the Customs; Swift exercised great authority and influence in the Tory cabinet; Prior was Ambassador to the Court of France; and Addison was a Secretary of State; but if, by styling this the Augustan age, it is meant to affirm that its Poetical productions are of a higher order of merit than those of any former period of our literary history, then I must pause before I admit the propriety of so designating it. Grace, fluency, elegance, and I will venture to add, mediocrity, are the characteristics of the Poetry of this age, rather than strength, profundity, and originality. True it is, that there are splendid exceptions to this rule, and that Swift, Pope, and Gay brightened the annals of the period of which I am speaking; but what are its pretensions, when compared with the age of Queen Elizabeth? What are even the great names which I have just mentioned, when weighed against those of Jonson, Fletcher, Massinger, Spenser, and Shakspeare? and as to the minor writers of the two periods, who would dream of mentioning Donne, Drummond, Brown, Carew, and Herrick, in the same breath with Duke, King, Sprat, Tickell, Yalden, and Hughes? I must even deny the boasted refinement of versification in the latter age; unless to refine be to smooth, and level, and reduce all to one tame and insipid equality. Leaving originality out of the question, I will ask, what Lyrical pieces of the age of Queen Anne, can, in mere elegance of diction, and flow of versification, be compared to the Lyrical parts of Jonson's and Beaumont's Dramas, and the sweet Songs of Carew and Herrick ? The following is a once much admired Song, by Lord Landsdowne, who was Comptroller of the Household to Queen Anne : "Thoughtful nights, and restless waking, Hopes deceiving, vain endeavours, Still complaining, and defending, From such painful ways of living, Ah! how sweet could Love be free, Fierce, immortal ecstasy!" To these Verses, which, I admit, are exceedingly smooth and flowing, I will oppose some by the supposed rugged old bard, Ben Jonson; and I will then ask, for I do not wish to bear unreasonably hard upon the noble Poet of the Augustan age,-I say, I will then ask, not which |