be ready to allow, that he has contributed more than any of his countrymen towards the elucidation of his subject; he has given his definitions of words with great clearness, and confirmed them by a detail of quotations from the best authors. There is perhaps no book, professedly written upon a philological subject that can give to foreigners as well as to natives, so just and advantageous an idea of our language, or of the variety and the excellence of our writers; the Preface to his Dictionary is a most accurate and deservedly admired composition.

The derivation of English words, as far as it relates to Latin and Greek, has been frequently and satisfactorily traced but those which are of Saxon origin were a long time prevalent without sufficient investigation. The Author of the "Diversions of Purley” (P. 185, &c.), whose natural acuteness and turn for metaphysical research peculiarly qualified him for such a task, has directed his attention to the subject; and the ingenious theory which he has formed, respecting the origin of the indeclinable parts of speech, was remarkably confirmed by his knowledge of Saxon. He has proved very clearly, that many of our adverbs, conjunctions, and prepositions, which are commonly thought to have no signification, when detached from other words, are derived from obsolete verbs, or nouns, the meaning of which they respectively retain; but which have been shortened for general convenience, and corrupted by length of time. Such a discovery is valuable, not only on account of the light it throws upon those parts of our language which have been too slightly regarded by all former grammarians; but for the assistance it affords to the science of etymology in general.

Dr. Johnson has declaimed against translations as the bane of language: but Warton has observed, in the "History of English Poetry," on the contrary, that our language derived great benefits from the translations of the classics in the sixteenth century. This difference of opinion may probably be reconciled, by supposing that these writers advert to the state of a language at different periods of time. When it is in

its dawn of improvement, as was the case when the translations of the classics were first made into English, the addition of foreign terms may be requisite to keep pace with the influx of new ideas. In a more advanced period of arts and civilization, such an increase is not only unnecessary, but may be injurious; and the practice seems as needless, as the introduction of foreign troops for the defence of a country, when the natives alone are sufficient for its protection.

I. BEAUTIES OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

A language, which has been so much indebted to others, both ancient and modern, must of course be very copious and expressive. In these respects perhaps it may be brought into competition with any now spoken in the world. No Englishman has had reason to complain, since our tongue has reached its present degree of excellence, that his ideas could not be adequately expressed, or clothed in a suitable dress. No author has been under the necessity of writing in a foreign language, on account of its superiority to our own. Whether we open the volumes of our divines, philosophers, historians, or artists, we shall find that they abound with all the terms necessary to communicate their observations and discoveries, and give to

their readers the most complete views of their respective subjects. Hence it appears, that our language is sufficiently capacious for all purposes, and can give proper and adequate expression to variety of argument, delicacy of taste, and fervour of genius. And that it has sufficient copiousness to communicate to mankind every action, event, invention, and observation, in a full, clear, and elegant manner, we can prove by an appeal to the authors, who are at present most admired and esteemed.

But its excellence is perhaps in few respects displayed to such advantage, as in the productions of our poets. Whoever reads the works of Shakspeare, Spenser, Milton, Dryden, and Pope, will be sensible that they employ a kind of phraseology which may be said to be sacred to the Muses. It is distinguished from prose, not merely by the harmony of numbers, but by the great variety of its appropriate terms and phrases. A considerable degree of beauty results likewise from the different measures employed in poetry. The Ailegro and Penseroso of Milton, Alex ander's feast by Dryden, the Ode to the Passions by Collins, and the Bard of Gray, are as complete examples of versification, judiciously varied, according to the nature of the subjects, as they are specimens of exquisite sentiment and original genius.

One of the most beautiful figures in poetry is the Prosopopoeia, or personification, which ascribes personal qualities and actions to inanimate and fictitious beings. The genius of our language enables the English poet to give the best effect to this figure, as the genders of nouns are not arbitrarily imposed, but may be varied according to the nature of the subject. Thus the poet can establish the most striking distinction between

verse and prose, and communicate to his descriptions that spirit and animation, which cannot fail to delight every reader of taste, in the following passages.

Thus Collins, in his Ode on Thomson, who was buried at Richmond, in a train of imagery at once beautiful and original, declares, that

"Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,
And oft suspend the dashing oar,
To bid his gentle spirit rest."

Milton thus personifies Wisdom,
"Wisdom's self

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort,

Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impaired,"

Par. Lost.

And Warton describes the advance of Evening:
"While Evening veil'd in shadows brown

Puts her matron mantle on,

And mists in spreading streams convey

More fresh the fumes of new-mown hay;
Then Goddess guide my pilgrim feet

Contemplation hoar to meet,

As slow he winds in museful mood,

Near the rush'd marge of Cherwell's flood."

Warton's Ode on the Approach of Summer.

But the fullest display of this figure occurs in the Fairy Queen of Spenser, which abounds in the continued personification of abstract ideas.

We must however acknowledge, that it is chiefly to grave subjects to the details of the historian, the arguments of the politician and the divine, the specu

lations of the philosopher, and the invention of the epic and the tragic poet, that our expressions are best adapted. Our language has energy and copiousness; but it accords not so well with the mirth of the gay, or the pathos of the distressed, as some others. In describing the pleasantries of the mind, in the effusions of delicate humour, and the trifling levities of social intercourse, the French possess a decided advantage. In delineating the tender passions, the soothing of pity, and the ardour of love, we must yield the superiority to the softer cadence of Italian syllables.

II. DEFECTS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

Although it is natural to indulge a partiality to our native language, as well as to our native soil; yet this prepossession ought not to make us blind to the defects either of the one or the other. We shall only advert to the principal imperfections of the language. Most of the words, except such as are of Roman or Grecian origin, are monosyllables terminated by consonants; and this makes our pronunciation rugged and broken, and unlike the regular and easy flow of classic phraseology. Many of them are harsh and inharmonious; and there are some syllables, which can scarcely be pronounced by an Italian or a Frenchman, whose organs of speech are habituated to softer expressions. "It is to the terminations with consonants that the harshness of our language may be imputed. The melody of a language depends greatly upon its vowel terminations. In English not more than a dozen common words end in a: about two dozen end in o. In y we have no less than 4900 words, about an eighth of our language; our words amounting to about 35,000. Heron's letters, p. 247.