Neglecting for the moment the more famous of the blank verse poems, we may notice Robert Blair’s “Grave” (published 1743), with a few examples, which mainly allow him to indulge in “classical” periphrases, such as the “_sight-invigorating_ tube” for “a telescope.” David Mallet, who imitated his greater countryman James Thomson, has one or two noteworthy instances: “pines _high-plumed_” (“Amyntor,” II), “_sweetly-pensive_ silence” (“Fragment”), “spring’s _flower-embroidered_ mantle” (“Excursion,” I)—suggested, no doubt, by Milton’s “violet-embroidered”—“the morn _sun-tinctured_” (_ibid._), compound epithets which betray the influence of the “Seasons.” Of the other minor blank verse poems their only aspect noteworthy from our present point of view is their comparative freedom from compounds of any description. John Armstrong’s “Art of Preserving Health” (1744) has only a few commonplace examples, and the same may be said of the earlier “The Chase” (1735) by William Somerville, though he finds a new epithet in his expression “the strand _sea-lav’d_” (Bk. III, 431). James Grainger’s “The Sugar Cane” (1764) shows a similar poverty, but the “_green-stol’d_ Naiad, of the tinkling rill” (Canto I), “_soft-stealing_ dews” (Canto III), “_wild-careering_ clouds” (Canto II), and “_cane-crowned_ vale” (Canto IV) are not without merit. These blank verse poems, avowedly modelled on Milton, might have been expected to attempt the “grandeur” of their original by high-sounding compounds; but it was rather by means of latinized words and constructions that the Miltonic imitators sought to emulate the grand style; and moreover, as Coleridge pointed out, Milton’s great epics are almost free from compound epithets, it being in the early poems that “a superfluity” is to be found.[171] Before turning to the more famous blank verse poems of the first half of the eighteenth century it will be convenient at this point to notice one or two poets whose work represents, on its formal side at least, a continuation or development of the school of Pope. The first of these is Richard Savage, whose only poem of any real merit, “The Wanderer” (apart perhaps from “The Bastard”), appeared in 1729. He has only one or two new compounds of noun and part-participle, such as “the robe _snow-wrought_” (“The Wanderer,” I, 55), his favourite combination being that of an adjective or adverb with a participle, where, amidst numerous examples of obvious formations, he occasionally strikes out something new: “eyes _dim-gleaming_” (Canto I), “_soft-creeping_ murmurs” (Canto V), etc. Of his other types the only other noteworthy compound is the “past-participle” epithet in his phrase “the _amber-hued_ cascade” (Canto III), though a refreshing simplicity of expression is found in such lines as The bull-finch whistles soft his _flute-like_ note.