That so great a poet as Pope, in the full maturity of his powers, should consecrate his best efforts to immortalizing in ridicule a set of enemies whom he affected utterly to despise, and most of whom, without his notice, would soon have been consigned to oblivion, is a lamentable instance of the misapplication of genius, through want of that solid dignity of mind which philosophy alone can bestow. Although in this performance there is great beauty of versification, and much poetical description, I cannot recommend it to your perusal. Not only the scope of it is sufficient to inspire disgust, but there is so much grossness of imagery blended with its plan, that it is unfit for a female eye. How strange is it, that a writer so polished in his style, and who possessed the unusual advantage of familiar intercourse with the best company (as we are willing to suppose it to be,) should have fallen into a vitiation of taste which could be expected only in the lowest class of authors! The apologists of Pope

lay the fault to his intimacy with Swift; and possibly the admirers of Swift would accuse Pope it cannot be doubted, however, that in this particular, as well as in their arrogant contempt of cotemporary writers, they spoiled each other. The two latter books of the Dunciad are tolerably free from this contamination; but from their subject they are intelligible only to readers well versed in the literature of that period.

The smaller and miscellaneous poems of this writer I shall commit without remark to your judgment and discretion. There is one production, however, which is such a master-piece in its kind, that I would point it out to your particular attention. This is his "Prologue to Cato." Prologues to plays are singular compositions, of which the proper character is scarcely to be determined by the practice of writers. Those of Dryden, which were famous in their day, are generally attempts at licentious wit or petulant satire. His example

was imitated; and scarcely any thing grave or dignified had been offered to the public in this form, till Pope, inspired by the noble subject of Addison's tragedy, composed this piece, which not only stands at the head of all prologues, but is scarcely surpassed in vigour of expression and elevation of sentiment by any passage in his

own works.

I now close my long letter; and remain,
Yours, &c.

LETTER VIII.

As one of our latest subjects was satire, I shall now, by way of comparison, direct you to another satirist of considerable note, of whom, however, we shall probably have more to say under another class. This is Dr. YOUNG, a cotemporary of Pope, and one of the poetical constellation of that period. This author has left us, under the general head of "Love of Fame, the universal passion," seven satires, in which he illustrates by example this assumed principle of human conduct. Like all other theorists on the mind, who aim at simplicity in their explanation of the varieties of human character, he has laid more stress upon his fundamental principle than it will properly bear; and in many of the portraits which he draws, the love of fame

can scarcely be recognized as a leading feature. In reality, Young was a writer of much more fancy than judgment. He paints with a brilliant touch and strong colouring, but with little attention to nature; and his satires are rather exercises of wit and invention than grave exposures of human follies and vices. He, indeed, runs through the ordinary catalogue of fashionable excesses, but in such a style of whimsical exaggeration, that his examples have the air of mere creatures of the imagination. His pieces are, however, entertaining, and are marked with the stamp of original genius. Having much less egotism than those of Pope, they have a less splenetic air; and the author's aim seems to be so much more to show his wit, than to indulge his rancour, that his severest strokes give little pain.

It has been observed, that Young's satires are strings of epigrams. His sketches of characters are generally terminated by