The harmony of numbers in this poem is very fine. It is rather drawn out to too tedious a length, although the passions vary with great judgement. It may be considered as superior to anything in the epistolary way; and the many translations which have been made of it into the modern languages, are in some measure a proof of this. AN EPISTLE FROM MR. PHILIPS [Ambrose Philips] TO THE EARL OF DORSET. The opening of this poem is incomparably fine. The latter part is tedious and trifling. A LETTER FROM ITALY, TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLECHARLES LORD HALIFAX. In the Year MDCCI. Few poems have done more honour to English genius than this. There is in it a strain of political thinking that was, at that time, new in our poetry. Had the harmony of this been equal to that of Pope’s versification, it would be incontestably the finest poem in our language; but there is a dryness in the numbers which greatly lessens the pleasure excited both by the poet’s judgement and imagination.* * See introductory note to _The Traveller_, p. 162. ALEXANDER’S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC. AN ODE, IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA’S DAY. This ode [by Mr. Dryden] has been more applauded, perhaps, than it has been felt, however, it is a very fine one, and gives its beauties rather at a third, or fourth, than at a first perusal. ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA’S DAY. This ode [by Mr. Pope] has by many been thought equal to the former. As it is a repetition of Dryden’s manner, it is so far inferior to him. The whole hint of Orpheus, and many of the lines, have been taken from an obscure Ode upon Music, published in Tate’s Miscellanies.* *_A Pindaric Essay upon Musick_—says Gibbs—by ‘Mr. Wilson’,’ which appears at p. 401 of Tate’s Collection of 1685. THE SHEPHERD’S WEEK. IN SIX PASTORALS. These are Mr. Gay’s principal performances. They were originally intended, I suppose, as a burlesque on those of [Ambrose] Philips; but, perhaps without designing it, he has hit the true spirit of pastoral poetry. In fact, he more resembles Theocritus than any other English pastoral writer whatsoever. There runs through the whole a strain of rustic pleasantry which should ever distinguish this species of composition; but how far the antiquated expressions used here may contribute to the humour, I will not determine; for my own part, I could wish the simplicity were preserved, without recurring to such obsolete antiquity for the manner of expressing it. MAC FLECKNOE.