Eleonora offered by Thomson, which is attributed to his connexion with the opposition, as no other cause can be discovered for its refusal.

He was soon after employed, in conjunction with Mr. Mallet, to write the masque of Alfred, which was acted before the Prince at Cliefden-house.

His next work (1745) was Tancred and Sigismunda, the most successful of all his tragedies, since it has remained upon the stage. It may be doubted whether Thomson was well qualified, either by nature or the habits of study, for a dramatic writer. His style is too exuberant and descriptive for dialogue; and he does not appear to have had much sense of the pathetic.

The last piece he lived to publish was the Castle of Indolence, on which he be

stowed much attention, and which probably owed its origin to his intimate acquaintance with the Faerie Queene of Spenser.

His friend, Mr. Lyttelton, on his coming into power, conferred upon him the sinecure place of surveyor-general of the leeward islands, worth about 3007. a year: but Thomson did not long enjoy it; for the period was approaching when "he wanted the generous tear he paid." A cold, caught while he was going by water from London to Kew, brought on a fever, which terminated his life, Aug. 27, 1748. His remains were buried in the church of Richmond, without any inscription; but a monument has since been erected to his memory in Westminster-Abbey.

Thomson's person and appearance

were far from prepossessing: he was commonly silent in mixed company, but cheerful among friends, and by his friends very tenderly and warmly beloved. His fraternal kindness is recorded in a letter addressed to one of his sisters

the

year before his death. His benevolence was fervid, without being active:

he would give on all occasions what assistance his purse could supply; but the offices of intervention or solicitation he could not muster resolution enough to perform. The affairs of others, however, were not more neglected than his own. Among his peculiarities was a very unskilful and inarticulate manner of delivering any solemn composition, which was carried so far that Dodington once accused him of not understanding his

own verses.

b

It is said of most authors that their lives are best read in their works. The truth of this remark may be doubted, at least in its application to Thomson. Savage, who lived much with him, once heard a lady remark that she could gather from his works three parts of his character, that he was "a great lover, a great swimmer, and rigorously abstinent:" but, said Savage, he knows not any love but that of the sex; he was perhaps never in cold water in his life; and he indulges in all the luxury that comes within his reach. Yet Savage always spoke with the most eager praise of his social qualities, and of the warmth and constancy of his friendship.

He left behind him the tragedy of Coriolanus; which, by the zeal of Sir George Lyttelton, was brought upon the

stage for the benefit of his family, and recommended by a prologue, which Quin, who had long lived with Thomson in fond intimacy, spoke in a manner that proved him to be on that occasion "no actor." A line of that prologue bestows upon Thomson a praise that ought not to be supprest: his works are said to contain

"No line which, dying, he could wish to blot."

"As a writer," says Dr. Johnson," he is entitled to one praise of the highest kind: his mode of thinking, and of expressing his thoughts, is original. His blank verse is no more the blank verse of Milton, or of any other poet, than the rhymes of Prior are the rhymes of Cowley. His numbers, his pauses, his diction, are of his own growth, without transcription, without imitation. He