name of Virgil had not been bestowed upon him in large characters in the frontispiece, and in the running title. Indeed, there is scarce the _magni nominis umbra_ to be met with in this translation, which being fairly intimated by Jacob, he needs add no more, but _si populus vult decipi, decipiatur._" With an assurance which induced Pope to call him the fairest of critics, not content with criticising the production of Dryden, Milbourne was so ill advised as to produce, and place in opposition to it, a rickety translation of his own, probably the fragments of that which had been suppressed by Dryden's version. A short specimen, both of his criticism and poetry, will convince the reader, that the powers of the former were, as has been often the case, neutralised by the insipidity of the latter; for who can rely on the judgment of a critic so ill qualified to illustrate his own precepts? I take the remarks on the tenth Eclogue, as a specimen, at hazard. "This eclogue is translated in a strain too luscious and effeminate for Virgil, who might bemoan his friend, but does it in a noble and a manly style, which Mr. Ogilby answers better than Mr. D., whose paraphrase looks like one of Mrs. Behn's, when somebody had turned the original into English prose before. "Where Virgil says, _Lauri et myricae flevêre_, the figure's beautiful; where Mr. D. says, the laurel stands in tears, And hung with humid pearls, the lowly shrub appears, the figure is lost, and a foolish and impertinent representation comes in its place; an ordinary dewy morning might fill the laurels and shrubs with Mr. D.'s tears, though Gallus had not been concerned in it. And yet the queen of beauty blest his bed-- "Here Mr. D. comes with his ugly patch upon a beautiful face: what had the queen of beauty to do here? Lycoris did not despise her lover for his meanness, but because she had a mind to be a Catholic whore. Gallus was of quality, but her spark a poor inferior fellow. And yet the queen of beauty, etc., would have followed there very well, but not where wanton Mr. D. has fixt her." Flushed were his cheeks, and glowing were his eyes. "This character is fitter for one that is drunk than one in an amazement, and is a thought unbecoming Virgil." And for thy rival, tempts the raging sea, The forms of horrid war, and heaven's inclemency. "Lycoris, doubtless, was a jilting baggage, but why should Mr. D. belie her? Virgil talks nothing of her going to sea, and perhaps she had a mind to be only a camp laundress, which office she might be advanced to without going to sea: 'the forms of horrid war,' for _horrida castra_, is incomparable." his brows, a country crown Of fennel, and of nodding lilies drown, "is a very odd figure: Sylvanus had swinging brows to drown such a crown as that, _i.e._ to make it invisible, to swallow it up; if it be a country crown, drown his brows, it is false English." The meads are sooner drunk with morning dews.