86

WILLIAM SHENSTONE.

No. 107. JOHN BYROM.

From a Sketch by Rasbotham, in the possession of the Publisher.

We think that the artist who painted the portrait of this poet, in the ungainly attitude in which he is represented, must have been the most indiscreet person in the world,-except the sitter. BYROM was a common-place writer of pastoral poetry, which he manufactured after the following fashion :—

My lambkins around me would oftentimes play,

And Phoebe and I were as joyful as they ;

How pleasant their sporting, how happy their time,

When Spring, Love, and Beauty were all in their prime."

Is it possible, that these second-hand glimpses of the country (for we can scarcely suppose that the author ever saw a hedge beyond Battersea) could ever have pleased the " reading public?"

No. 108. WILLIAM SHENSTONE.

From an original Picture, in the possession of William Roscoe, Esq.

THE portrait and the pastorals of SHENSTONE are his worst enemies. We would rather that the reader should think of him after reading his delightful little poem of the "Schoolmistress,” (a matchless thing in its way,) or after a pleasant evening enjoyed over his Essays. His ballad of " Jemmy Dawson," by means of which, and his pastorals, he has obtained the principal part of his fame, possesses very little merit beyond the common run of ballads. Shenstone here looks what he really was; namely, a sleek, comfortable, precise, gentleman of property. He appears dressed, as he used to be in his life-time, to receive company at the "Leasowes," and ready to introduce the affable and the ignorant to

all the leaden mysteries of his Olympus. He was a man for 66 garden gods" and inscriptions, and loved the theory of cottages and flowery plains, and

"banks all furnished with bees;"

but his practice savoured more of gentility. He wrote of the delights of a pastoral life in the rooms of Bath and London, and met with his " Phyllis" at the Cheltenham Spa.

No. 109. CHARLES CHURCHILL.

From an original Picture, in the possession of Sir Richard Phillips. CHURCHILL, the satirist, and the enemy of our fine English painter Hogarth, has the look of a butcher; and, indeed, he cut up his enemies not as a dish fit for the gods, but mangled them after a very coarse and earthly fashion. Nevertheless, there is a good deal of nerve and bitterness in some of Churchill's anathemas, though his verses are but little read. The reader will not overlook the quick eye of the satirist in this portrait. We are afraid that we cannot direct him to any poetical part in his face.

No. 110. DR. YOUNG.

From a Picture, by Highmore, in the Hall of All Souls College.

ALTHOUGH this is a good and characteristic portrait, it is not pleasant to dwell on. We do not like the countenance of Young. The small, shrewd, cunning eye, with the hand and glance somewhat aside, have a worldly and unpoetical appearance. He looks like a full-blown dowager detailing a tea-table scandal.—This is the celebrated author of the "Night Thoughts," which every

body has bought in his youth, and scarcely any body has read through. Young is also the author of various satires upon " Women," (he looks fit for the task,) and of several tragedies, of which "The Revenge" still keeps possession of the stage. The character of "Zanga" in this play, had it been original, would have been striking enough; but coming after Iago, it must be held in every sense of the word to be entitled to but a secondary reputation. The satires (on Women) have some piquant passages, but, generally speaking, they are inferior to many others in the language.

No. 111. MARK AKENSIDE.

From a Picture, by Pond, in the Collection of Lord Heathfield.

We have but little to observe upon this picture. The eye is indeed represented as looking upwards, but the portrait is scarcely an impersonation of the "Imagination," upon which the author has so pleasantly dilated. AKENSIDE's Hymn to the Naiades contains some agreeable passages, and his Poem on the Imagination is entitled to much praise. His verse, however, is not equal to Thomson's, nor can it be said on the whole perhaps to surpass that of Young. It is decidedly inferior to most of Mr. Wordsworth's, and immeasurably below the grand cadences of Milton.

No. 112. THOMAS GRAY.

From a Picture, by Echardt, in the Collection at Strawberry Hill.

THERE is not a poet in the whole poetical history of England, who, by the same means, ever attained such a reputation in his life-time or preserved it after his death, as GRAY. He has been praised till

JOHN CUNNINGHAM.

89

we are fatigued with eulogy. Horace Walpole thought him a profounder man than Hume, and Miss Seward has placed him upon the clouds. There are no heights or depths which his fame has not reached, so warm has been the fancy of his admirers and so active the exertions of his friends. Dr. Johnson has been abused for underrating him, by persons who could read that learned biographer's account of Milton without anger. In short, so much has been said of the author of "The Bard" and of "The Elegy in a Church Yard," that we shall not add to the heap of remark; the more especially as our colder calculation of Gray's talent might probably be considered to have been written in an invidious spirit. Yet, we are not without our admiration of Gray. We like his letters, portions of his odes, parts of his "Elegy," (indeed the whole perhaps, in moderation,) but his Pindarics are not altogether to our taste. His poems are laboured and extremely wanting in originality, and are by no means rich in imagination. The portrait has a neat, finical, affected look, smooth as 66 my lady's cheek ;" and his hair, his eyebrows, his dress, &c. are all tamed down to precise and polished order. There is certainly not much of the fine audacity of Pindar in this look of his imitator, Gray.

No. 113. JOHN CUNNINGHAM.

From a Drawing by Bewick, in the possession of Miss Hornby.

THE person of this author seems to claim some affinity to the meagre look of the miser, Elwes. He has a projecting face, a shallow crown, and a hat to fit, and looks altogether well fitted to keep watch over the sleeping gold, which that anomaly in human nature hoarded, with a care excelling even the profusion with

90

90

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

which he squandered it among the dicers and card players of our moral metropolis. Having glanced at CUNNINGHAM's person, we need not detain the reader with his poetry.

No. 114. GEORGE LORD LYTTELTON.

From a Picture by West, in the Collection of Lord Lyttelton. THIS print will bring at once to the reader's memory, the portrait of the celebrated Lord Chesterfield. This is not a pleasant association; and therefore, in order to get rid of it, we must go back to our reading thirty years ago, when we used to dwell on the poetry of LORD LYTTELTON, and sigh over his sorrows, and think that his "Lucy" was as peerless as his verse, and his groves and "shades of Hagley" more romantic than the green valleys of Arcady or the melancholy glades which ran through the forest of Arden. If time has dissipated these delusions a little, we nevertheless still cling with some pleasure to the noble author's laments, and cannot help fancying that we discover in the portrait before us, senatorial and political-as it is, something of the sad and bereaved husband who beguiled us of our tears in boyhood.

No. 115. OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

From a Picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the Collection of the Dutchess of Dorset.

SIR JOSHUA's portrait of GOLDSMITH, which this print has faithfully copied, has always been esteemed an admirable likeness. No one can look upon it without being sensible of the fidelity of the engraver. There is great depth of colour in the print, (to speak technically,) and much of that serious sentiment which is