_It happen'd on a Summer's Holy-day, That to the Greenwood Shade he took his Way; His Quarter-Staff, which he cou'd ne'er forsake, Hung half before, and half behind his Back; He trudg'd along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went for Want of Thought._ There is not a more natural Picture in Language than this. Of the same Kind is that of _Iphigenia_ sleeping by the Fountain: The very Numbers express the Wantonness of the Wind so livelily, that we feel the Air, and are fanned by it while we read them, which I think has had the good Luck to escape Observation: _Her Bosom to the View was only bare; The fanning Wind upon her Bosom blows;_ } _To meet the fanning Wind her Bosom rose;_ } _The fanning Wind, and purling Streams continue her Repose._} Mr. _Dryden_ was 68 Years old when he wrote this Fable, which I have always taken for a Master-piece, with Respect to natural Thoughts, which are always agreeable, and harmonious Numbers. The Reader will perceive, that I do not forbear quoting fine Passages, because they are in the _Spectator_. I cannot allow of his Forestalling the Market; and besides, I take his Example to be preferable to his Precept. Himself does not stick to quote even from himself; as, Nº 91. Sidley _has that prevailing gentle Art_, &c. And again, Nº [400.] Sidley _has that prevailing gentle Art_, &c. _Guard_ 110. Motto----Non ego paucis, Offendor maculis. _Spec._ 291. Motto----Non ego paucis, Offendor maculis. This however I will declare in my own Behalf, that I have quoted nothing from him which he has quoted from _Milton_ or _Dryden_, but what I had before collected my self as remarkable Passages in their several Kinds of Thinking. What follows, taken out of Mr. _Charles Hopkins_'s Verses to the Earl of _Dorset_, is of the agreeable Kind: _As Nature does in new-born Infants frame With their first Speech their careful_ Forstrer_'s Name, Whose needful Hands their daily Food provide, And by whose Aid they have their Wants supply'd: You are, my Lord, the Poet's earliest Theme, And the first Word he speaks is_ Dorset_'s Name._ Were not the next Verses written on a Tomb Stone, they wou'd be very _agreeable_. They are _Ben Johnson_'s: _Underneath this Stone doth lie As much Virtue as cou'd die: Which when alive did Vigour give To as much Beauty as cou'd live._ Is not this Picture of _Venus_ in _Palamon_ and _Arcite_ of the same Kind: