his own country. But then, according to the curious observation of the late earl of Shaftesbury, he kept the poet in awe by regular criticism, and, as it were, married the two arts for their mutual support and improvement. There was not a tract of credit, upon that subject, which he had not diligently examined, from Aristotle down to Hedelin and Boffu; so that, having each rule constantly before him, he could carry the art through every poem, and at once point out the graces and deformities. By this means he seemed to read with a design to correct, as well as-imitate.

Being thus prepared, he could not but taste every i little delicacy that was set before him; though it was impossible for him at the same time to be fed and nourished with any thing but what was substantial and lasting. He considered the ancients and moderns not as parties or rivals for fame, but as architects upon one and the same plan, the Art of Poetry; according to which he judged, approved, and blamed, without flattery or detraction. If he did not always commend the compositions of others, it was not ill-nature (which was not in his temper), but strict justice that would not let him call a few flowers set in ranks, a glib measure, and so many couplets, by the name of poetry : he was of Ben Jonson's opinion, who could not admire

Verses as smooth and soft as cream,
In which there was neither depth nor stream.

And therefore, though his want of complaisance for some men's overbearing vanity made him enemies, yet the better part of mankind were obliged by the freedom of his reflections.

His Bodleian Speech, though taken from a remote and imperfect copy, hath shewn the world how great

a master

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a mafter he was of the Ciceronian eloquence, mixed with the conciseness and force of Demosthenes, the elegant and moving turns of Pliny, and the acute and wife reflections of Tacitus,

Since Temple and Roscommon, no man understood Horace better, especially as to his happy diction, rolling numbers, beautiful imagery, and alternate mixture of the soft and the sublime. This endeared Dr. Hannes's odes to him, the finest genius for Latin lyrick since the Augustan Age. His friend Mr. Philips's ode to Mr. St. John (late Lord Bolingbroke), after the manner of Horace's Lufory or Amatorian Odes, is certainly a master-piece : but Mr. Smith's Pocockius is of the sublimer kind, though, like Waller's writings upon Oliver Cromwell, it wants not the most delicate and surprising turns peculiar to the person praised. I do not remember to have seen any thing like it in Dr. Bathurst, who had made some attempts this way with applause. He was an excellent judge of humanity; and so good an historian, that in familiar discourse he would talk over the most memorable facts in antiquity, the lives, actions, and characters of celebrated men, with amazing facility and accuracy. As he had thoroughly read and digested Thuanus's works, so he was alle to copy after him : and his talent in this kind was so well known and allowed, that he had been singled out by some great men to write a history, which it was for their interest to have done with the utmost art and dexterity. I shall not mention for what reasons this delign was dropped, though they are very much to Mr. Smith's honour. The truth is, and I speak it þefore living witnesses, whilst an agreeable company fould fix him upon a subject of useful literature, no

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body shone to greater advantage : he seemed to be that Memmius whom Lucretius speaks of;

-Quem tu, Dea, tempore in omni

Omnibus ornatum voluifti excellere rebus. His works are not many, and those scattered up and down in Miscellanies and Collections, being wrested from him by his friends with great difficulty and reluctance. All of them together make but a small part of that much greater body which lies dispersed in the possession of numerous acquaintance; and cannot perhaps be made entire, without great injustice to him, because few of them had his last hand, and the transcriber was often obliged to take the liberties of a friend. His condolance for the death of Mr. Philips is full of the noblest beauties, and hath done justice to the ashes of that second Milton, whose writings will last as long as the English language, generosity, and valour. For him Mr. Smith had contracted a perfect friendship; a passion he was most susceptible of, and whose laws he looked upon as sacred and inviolable.

Every subject that passed under his pen had all the life, proportion, and embellishments bestowed on it, which an exquisite skill, a warm imagination, and a cool judgement, could possibly bestow on it. The epique, lyrick, elegiac, every sort of poetry he touched upon (and he had touched upon a great variety), was raised to its proper height, and the differences between each of them observed with a judicious accuracy. We saw the old rules and new beauties placed in admirable order by each other; and there was a predominant fancy and spirit of his own infused, superior to what some draw off from the ancients, or from poesies here and there culled out of the moderns, by a painful in



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dustry and servile imitation. His contrivances were
adroit and magnificent; his images lively and ade-
quate; his sentiinents charming and majestick ; his
expressions natural and bold; his numbers various and
founding; and that enameled mixture of clali-
cal wit, which, without redundance and affectation,
sparkled through his writings, and was no less perti-
nent and agreeable.

His Phædra is a consummate tragedy, and the fuc-
cess of it was as great as the most fanguine expectations
of his friends could promise or foresee. The number
of nights, and the common method of filling the house,
are not always the sürest marks of judging what en-
couragement a play meets with: but the generosity of
all the persons of a refined taste about town was re-
markable on this occasion; and it must not be forgot-
ten how zealoufly Mr. Addison espoused his interest,
with all the elegant judgement and diffusive good-na-
ture for which that accomplished gentleman and author
is so justly valued by mankind. But as to Phædra, the
has certainly made a finer figure under Mr. Smith's
conduct, upon the English stage, than either Rome or
Athens; and if she excells the Greek and Latin Pbadra,
I need not say the furpasses the French one, though
embellished with whatever regular beauties and moving
Toftness Racine himself could give her.

No man had a juster notion of the difficulty of composing than Mr. Smith, and he sometimes would create greater difficulties than he had reason to apprehend. Writing with ease, what (as Mr. Wycherley speaks) may be easily written, moved his indignation. When he was writing upon a subject, he would seriously conlider whát Demosthenes, Homer, Virgil, or Hotace,

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if alive, would say upon that occasion, which wherred him to exceed himself as well as others. Never theless, he could not, or would not, finish feveral subjects he undertook; which may be imputed either to the briskness of his fancy, still hunting after new matter, or to an occasional indolence, which fpleen and Jassitude brought upon him, which, of all his foibles, the world was least inclined to forgive. That this was not owing to conceit ard vanity, or a fulness of himself (a frailty which has been imputed to no less men than Shakspeare and Jonson), is clear from hence; because he left his works to the entire disposal of his friends, whose most rigorous censure's he even courted and folicited; submitting to their animadversions and the freedom they took with them, with an unreserved and prudent resignation.

I have seen sketches and rough draughts of some poems he designed, set out analytically; wherein the fable, structure, and connexion, the images, incidents, moral, episodes, and a great variety of ornaments, were lo finely laid out, so well fitted to the rules of art, and squared fo exactly to the precedents of the ancients, that I have often looked on these poetical elements with the same concern, with which curious men are af. fected at the fight of the most entertaining remains and ruins of an antique figure or building. Those fragments of the learned, which some men have been so proud of their pains in collecting, are useless rarities, without form and without life, when compared with these embryo's which wanted not spirit enough to preserve them; so that I cannot help thinking, that, if some of them were to come abroad, they would be as highly valued by the poets, as thọ sketches of Julio



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