[a] That poetry requires a retreat from the bustle of the world, has been so often repeated, that it is now considered as a truth, from which there can be no appeal. Milton, it is true, wrote his Paradise Lost in a small house near _Bunhill Fields_; and Dryden courted the muse in the hurry and dissipation of a town life. But neither of them fixed his residence by choice. Pope grew immortal on the banks of the Thames. But though the country seems to be the seat of contemplation, two great writers have been in opposite opinions. Cicero says, woods and groves, and rivers winding through the meadows, and the refreshing breeze, with the melody of birds, may have their attraction; but they rather relax the mind into indolence, than rouse our attention, or give vigour to our faculties. _Sylvarum amænitas, et præterlabentia flumina, et inspirantes ramis arborum auræ, volucrumque cantus, et ipsa late circumspiciendi libertas ad se trahunt; at mihi remittere potius voluptas ista videtur cogitationem, quam intendere._ _De Orat._ lib. ii. This, perhaps, may be true as applied to the public orator, whose scene of action lay in the forum or the senate. Pliny, on the other hand, says to his friend Tacitus, there is something in the solemnity of venerable woods, and the awful silence which prevails in those places, that strongly disposes us to study and contemplation. For the future, therefore, whenever you hunt, take along with you your pen and paper, as well as your basket and bottle; for you will find the mountains not more inhabited by Diana, than by Minerva. _Jam undique sylvæ, et solitudo, ipsumque illud silentium, quod venationi datur, magna cogitationis incitamenta sunt. Proinde, cum, venabere, licebit, auctore me, ut panarium et lagunculam, sic etiam pugillares feras. Experiaris non Dianam magis montibus quam Minervam inerrare._ Lib. i. epist. 6. Between these two different opinions, a true poet may be allowed to decide. Horace describes the noise and tumult of a city life, and then says, Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemus, et fugit urbes. Epist. lib. ii. ep. ii. ver. 77. Alas! to grottos and to groves we run, To ease and silence, ev'ry muse's son. POPE.