spirit of the original, which is much, more characteristic of Thomson's style than of Mallet's.

although he was not unsocial in his habits, and anything but narrow or bigoted in his religious and moral sentiments, yet serious subjects best harmonized with the tone of his mind; and he seemed to have a lofty and conscientious conception of the function and responsibilities of the poet's mission.

Thomson's political friend, Mr Lyttleton, having come into power in 1744, conferred upon him the appointment of Surveyor-General of the Leeward Isles; from which office, after paying a deputy, he derived £300 ayear. In 1745, his most successful tragedy, "Tancred and Sigismunda," was produced. Garrick played the lead-politan in his composition than is genering character, and Pitt and Lyttleton attended the rehearsal.

The "Castle of Indolence, "his second | best poem, was published in 1748, and his pension from the Prince of Wales was discontinued; but as he died in the autumn of this year, the loss did not much 'affect his circumstances. The cause of his death was fever, brought on by having taken a boat in the chill air of the Thames, after being overheated with walking. He was attended by his fellow-poet and countryman, Dr Armstrong, author of The Art of Preserving Health, but his constitution was not sufficiently robust to throw off the disease.

Besides the works published under his own supervision, the tragedy of "Coriolanus " was published the year after his death.

Thomson was of an easy, indolent, and retiring disposition, not unlike Goldsmith in some aspects of his character; but wanting that simplicity, comic vanity, and utter forgetfulness of self, which, with his sprightly vivacity, formed such delightful features of Goldsmith's nature. Thomson's genius was grave and slow, but deep and devout; and

He had all the undemonstrative shyness and depth of natural feeling of his countrymen, with more of the cosmo

ally placed to their credit. One of the most striking characteristics of the Seasons—which forms part of their elevated tone-is the catholicity of the treatment, both as to the sentiment and the points of observation; they have no nationality, and no local colouring-a want which in some respects gives them an aspect of indefiniteness, and which, if a gain in breadth, is a loss in intensity. Numerous editions of his poems, especially of the Seasons, have been published.

SPRING. [Specimens.]

COME, gentle Spring, ethereal mildness,

come,

And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veiled in a

shower

Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend!

O Hertford ! fitted, or to shine in courts
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation joined
In soft assemblage, listen to my song;

Which thy own Season paints, when na

ture all

Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.

And see where surly Winter passes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:

His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, Meanwhile, incumbent o'er the shining

To shake the sounding marsh; or from Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, the shore

Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, decend!

And temper all, thou world-reviving sun, Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, Then Think these lost themes, unworthy of your

Th' expansive atmosphere is cramp'd Such themes as these the rural Maro sung

A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod,

Him piteous of his youth and the short space

But let not on thy hook the tortured worm, Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds, Which, by rapacious hunger swallowed deep, Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding He has enjoyed the vital light of heaven, breast Soft disengage, and back into the stream Of the weak, helpless, uncomplaining The speckled captive throw. But should wretch,

Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand.

When with his lively ray the potent sun Has pierced the streams, and roused the finny race,

Then issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair: Chief should the western breezes curling play,

you lure

From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled

roots

Of pendant trees, the monarch of the brook,

Behoves you then to ply your finest art. Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly,

And light o'er ether bear the shadowy And oft attempts to seize it; but as oft

clouds.

High to their front, this day, amid the hills
And woodlands warbling round, trace up

the brooks;

The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear.
At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun
Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the
death,

The next, pursue their rocky-channelled With sullen plunge. At once he darts

Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line;

Then seeks the furthest ooze, the sheltering weed,

Is mixed the trembling stream, or where The caverned bank, his old secure abode; it boils And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, Around the stone, or from the hollow'd Indignant of the guile. With yielding bank,

Reverted plays in undulating flow,
There throw, nice-judging, the delusive
fly;

And, as you lead it round in artful curve,
With eye attentive mark the springing

game.

Straight as above the surface of the flood
They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap,
Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed

hook :

Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,
And to the shelving shore slow-dragging

hand,

That feels him still, yet to his furious course
Gives way, you, now retiring, following

now

Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage;
Till, floating broad upon his breathless
side,

And to his fate abandoned, to the shore
You gaily drag your unresisting prize.

NATURE AND NATURE'S GOD. BEHOLD, yon breathing prospect bids the Muse

With various hand proportioned to their | Throw all her beauty forth. But who can

some,

force.

If yet too young, and easily deceived,

paint

Like Nature? Can imagination boast,

Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
Or can it mix them with that matchless
skill,

And lose them in each other, as appears,
In every bud that blows? If fancy then
Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task,
Ah, what shall language do? ah, where
find words

Of blossomed beans. Arabia cannot boast
A fuller gale of joy than, liberal, thence
Breathes through the sense, and takes the
ravished soul.

Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot;
Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber'd
flowers,

The negligence of Nature, wide and wild, Tinged with so many colours, and whose Where, undisguised by mimic art, she

power,

To life approaching, may perfume my lays
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales
That inexhaustive flow continual round?

Yet, though successless, will the toil
delight.

spreads

Unbounded beauty to the roving eye.
Here their delicious task the fervent bees,
In swarming millions, tend: around,
athwart,

Through the soft air, the busy nations fly,

Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube,

whose hearts

Have felt the raptures of refining love;
And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my
song!

Formed by the graces, loveliness itself!
Come with those downcast eyes, sedate

and sweet;

Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul,

Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd,

Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul; And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare

The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows,

And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.

At length, the finished garden to the view Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. Snatch'd through the verdant maze, the hurried eye

Distracted wanders: now the bowery walk Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day

Falls on the lengthened gloom, protracted sweeps:

Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart :
Oh come! and, while the rosy-footed May
Steals blushing on, together let us tread
The morning dews, and gather in their
prime
Fresh blooming flowers, to grace thy Now meets the bending sky; the river now
braided hair,
Dimpling along, the breezy-ruffled lake,
And thy lov'd bosom that improves their The forest darkening round, the glittering

sweets.

spire,

See, where the winding vale its lavish Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant

stores

Irriguous spreads. See, how the lily drinks
The latent rill, scarce oozing through the
grass,

Of growth luxuriant; or the humid bank,
In fair profusion, decks. Long let us walk
Where the breeze blows from yon ex-
tended field

main.

But why so far excursive? when at hand,
Along these blushing borders, bright with
dew,

And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers,
Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace,
Throws out the snowdrop and the crocus
first,

!

With shining meal o'er all their velvet By wintry winds, that now in fluent dance,

First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky The cheerful cottage, then expecting food,

To Thee I bend the knee; to Thee my Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults thoughts