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points of view, and introducing them at the wrong end of a walk to detect a deception ; injuries of which Shenstone would heavily complain. Where there is emulation there will be vanity ; and where there is vanity will be folly. *

The pleasure of Shenstone was all in his eye; he valued what he valued merely for its looks; nothing rais. ed his imagination more than to ask if there were any fishes in his water.

His house was mean, and he did not improve it ; his care was of his grounds. When he came home from his walks, he might find his floors flooded by a shower through the broken roof; but could spare no money for its reparation.

In time his expenses brought clamours about him, that overpowered the lamb's bleat and the linnet's song, and his groves were haunted by beings very different from fawns and fairies.t He spent his estate in adorn.

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* This charge against the Lyttelton family has been denied with some degree of warmth by Mr. Potter, and since by Mr. Graves. The latter says, “ The truth of the case, I believe, was, that the Lyttelton family went so frequently with their family to the Leasowes, that they were unwilling to break in upon Mr. Shenstone's retirement on every occasion, and therefore often went to the principal points of view without waiting for any one to conduct them regularly through the whole walks. Of this Mr. Shenstone would sometimes peevishly complain ; though, I am persuaded, he never really suspected any ill natured intention in his worthy and much-valued neighbours." 'R.

† Mr. Graves, however, expresses his belief that this is a groundless surmise. “ Mr. Shenstone,” he adds, “ was too much respected in the neighbourhood to be treated with rudeness; and though his works (frugally as they were managed) added to his manner of living, must necessarily have made him exceed his income, and of course, he might some

ing it, and his death was probably hastened by his anx. ieties. He was a lamp that spent its oil in blazing. It is said, that, if he had lived a little longer he would have been assisted by a pension : such bounty could not have been ever more properly bestowed ; but that it was ever asked it is not certain ; it is too certain that it never was enjoyed.

He died at the Leasowes, of a putrid fever, about five on Friday morning, Febuary 11, 1763 ; and was buried by the side of his brother in the church-yard of Hales-Owen.

He was never married, though he might have obtained the lady, whoever she was, to whom his “ Pastoral Ballad” was addressed. He is represented by his friend Dodsley as a man of great tenderness and generosity, kind to all that were within his influence ; but, if once offended, not easily appeased ; inattentive to economy, and careless of his expenses. In his person he was larger than the middle size, with something clumsy in his form ; very negligent of his clothes, and remarkable for wearing his grey hair in a particular manner ;

for he held that the fashion was no rule of dress, and that every man was to suit his appearance to his natural form.*

. times be distressed for money, yet he had too much spirit to expose himself to insựlts from trifling sums, and guarded against any great distress, by anticipating a few hundreds : which his estate could very well bear, as appeared by what remained to his executors after the payment of his debts, and his legacies to his friends, and annuities of thiriy pounds a year to one servant, and six pounds to another; for his will was dictated with equal justice and generosity.” R.

• “ These,” says Mr. Graves,” were not precisely his senti. ments, though he thought right enough, that every one should, in some degree, consult his particular shape and com.

His mind was not very comprehensive, nor his curiosity active ; he had no value for those parts of knowledge which he had not himself cultivated.

His life was unstained by any crime; the elegy on Jesse, which has been supposed to relate an unfortunate and criminal amour of his own, was known by his friends to have been suggested by the story of Miss Godfrey in Richardson's “ Pamela.”

What Gray thought of his character, from the perusal of his letters, was this :

“ I have read too an octavo volume of Shenstone's letters. Poor man! he was always wishing for money, for fame, and other distinctions; and his whole philosophy consisted in living against his will in retirement, and in a place which his taste had adorned, but which he on. ly enjoyed when people of note came to see and commend it; his correspondence is about nothing else but this place and his own writings, with two or three neighbouring clergymen, who wrote verses too."

His poems consist of elegies, odes, and ballads, humorous sallies, and moral pieces.

His conception of an elegy he has in his preface very judiciously and discriminately explained. It is, according to his account, the effusion of a contemplative mind, sometimes plaintive, and always serious, and therefore superior to the glitter of slight ornaments. his compositions suit not ill to this description. His topics of praise are the domestic virtues, and his thoughts are pure and simple ; but wanting combination, they want variety. The peace of solitude, the innocence of inactivity, and the unenvied security of an humble sta

plexion in adjusting his dress; and that no fashion ought to sanctify what was ungraceful, absurd, or really deform. ed." R

tion, can fill but a few pages. That of which the essence is uniformity will be soon described.

His elegies have therefore too much resemblance of each other.

The lines are sometimes such as elegy requires, smooth and easy ; but to this praise his claim is not constant ; his diction is often harsh, improper, and affected; his words ill-coined, or ill chosen ; and his phrase unskilfully inverted.

The Lyric poes are almost all of the light and airy kinds, such as trip lightly and nimbly along, without the load of any weighty meaning. From these, however, Rural Elegance has some right to be expected. I once heard it praised by a very learned lady; and though the lines are irregular, and the thoughts diffused with too much verbosity, yet it cannot be denied to contain both philosophical argument and poetical spirit.

Of the rest I cannot think any excellent: The Skylark pleases me best, which has however more of the epigram than of the ode.

But the four parts of his Pastoral Ballad demand particular notice. I cannot but regret that it is pastoral ; an intelligent reader, acquainted with the scenes of real life, sickens at the mention of the crook, the pipe, the sheen, and the kids which it is not necessary to bring forward to notice, for the poet's art is selection, and he ought to shew the beauties without the grossness of the country life. His stanza seems to have been chosen in imitation of Row's “Despairing Shepherd.”

In the first part are two passages, to which if any mind denies its sympathy, it has no acquaintance with love or nature :

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I priz'd every hour that went by,

Beyond all that had pleas'd me before ;
But now they are past, and I sigh,
And I grieve that I priz'd them no more

When forc'd the fair nymph to forego,

What anguish I felt in my heart !
Yet I thought (but it might not be so)

'Twas with pain that she saw me depart.

Shę gaz'd, as 1 slowly withdrew,

My path I could hardly discern;
So sweetly she bade me adieu,

I thought that she bade me return.

In the second this passage has its prettyness, though it be not equal to the former :

I have found out a gift for my fair ;

I have found where the wood pigeons breed :
But let me that plunder forbear,

She will say 'twas a barbarous deed :

For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd,

Who could rob a poor bird of its young :
And I lov'd her the more when I heard

Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

In the third he mentions the common-places of amore ous poetry with some address :

'Tis his with mock-passion to glow!

'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, Ilow her face is as bright as the snow,

And her bosom, be sure, is as cold;

How the nightingales labour the strain,

With the notes of this charmer to vie :
How they vary their accents in vain,

Repine at her triumphs, and die.

In the fourth I find nothing better than this patural strain of hope.

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