In reviewing the poetry of the Eighteenth Century the most striking fact is the remarkable advance in the art of writing blank verse. Spolverini, Parini and Alfieri produced works in that metre more masterly than those of former ages. These poets know how to vary their cadences, how to sustain the melody, how to produce an impressive close; and if Spolverini is at times a trifle prolix and Parini a trifle heavy, Alfieri skilfully Avoids both faults, and as far as rhythm is concerned, his verse is absolutely perfect; but only his blank verse; his rhymes, like those of Parini, are vastly inferior and not nearly so gratifying to the ear. [Footnote 1: The work was dedicated to Elizabeth Farnese, widow of Philip V of Spain. The fact of her accepting the dedication must have given it some importance in the eyes of the world. Ambrosoli is my authority for its cold reception. A copy of the second edition, published 1764, is in my possession. The editor says the poem was received with universal admiration, but perhaps his motive was to induce the public by that statement to buy his edition. Probably the fact of the author's death, as is so often the case, drew attention to his poem.] CHAPTER XVII. PROSE WRITERS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. The Prose Writers of the Eighteenth Century need not detain us long, for with the exception of the Comedies of Goldoni, few works have any sort of vitality. Some authors, especially writers of Memoirs, wrote in French, like Casanova and Goldoni himself, whose Autobiography is in that language. Indeed, for some years, the danger seemed to be imminent that French would be as much used as Latin had been in former ages. GOLDONI is a delightful writer, and some of his best comedies still keep the stage. Those who have read Goldsmith's _Good-natured Man_ and _She Stoops to Conquer,_ can form an accurate idea of what Goldoni was. There is the same geniality, the same broad humour, the same light, but effective delineation of character, and the same sparkling and ingenious dialogue. If Goldoni has a fault, it is that his plots are sometimes too thin, and that his comedies occasionally betray the haste in which they were written. A few of his plays are in verse, and some are in the Venetian dialect in which he is always racy and spirited. He was a very fertile writer, and if many of his works are inferior to his best, they all bear testimony to the fertility and originality of his mind, and he deserves to be celebrated as the best writer of comedy that his country has produced.