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of the year make upon us. He puts his heart into his subject; writes as he feels, and therefore makes his readers feel. His faults were those of his style—of the author and of his habits; but the genius of the poet was too strong for these to counteract. Mr Hazlitt dissented from the opinion that Thomson's Castle of Indolence is his best poem. There are exquisite passages in this little work, in which he has poured forth the very soul of indolence; but there are none equal to the best in the Seasons. Mr Hazlitt gave illustrative quotations from both, and then proceeded to speak of his versification, which he described as not harsh or untuneable, but heavy and monotonous. It seems always labouring up hill. Of Thomson's poem on Liberty, the lecturer could not speak in much praise. His muse was too easy and good natured for the subject. His plays, too, were deficient on the same account. He would not give himself the trouble of going out of himself to enter into the situations and passions of others.

The lecturer commenced his account of Cowper by making a comparison between him and Thomson, in which he described Cowper as having the advantage over Thomson in simplicity and precision of style, and a more careful choice of topics suited to his genius and habits, but as greatly inferior in true poetical force and fervour. If, in Thomson, said Mr H., you are sometimes offended with the slovenliness of the author, by profession, in Cowper you are no less dissatisfied with the finicalness of the private gentleman. There is an effeminacy about him that repels sympathy. He seldom launches out into general descriptions of nature, but looks at her over his clipt hedges, and from his well-swept garden walks; or if he makes a bolder experiment now and then, it is with an air of precaution, as if he were afraid of being caught in a shower of rain. He shakes hands with nature with a pair of fashionable gloves on, and leads her forth with a look of consciousness and attention to etiquette, as a gentleman hands a lady out to dance a minuet.

After a romantic adventure in the fields, he seems glad to get back to the drawing-room and the ladies again. He has all the sickly sensibility and pampered refinements of Pope; but then Pope prided himself on them, whereas Cowper would be thought all simplicity and plainness. He had neither Thomson's love for unadorned nature, nor Pope's love for accomplished art,—he was afraid to trust himself with the one, and ashamed to be seen with the other.

Still, continued Mr Hazlitt, Cowper was a true poet, and worthy of all his reputation. His worst vices were only amiable weaknesses. Though there is frequently a dryness and timidity in his manner, yet he has a number of charming pictures of domestic comfort as well as of natural imagery and feeling. Mr H. referred to some of these, and then proceeded to speak of his satire, which he described as excellently pointed and forcible, yet exhibiting at the same time the polished manners of the gentleman, and the honest indignation of the virtuous man. Cowper's religious poetry was described as deficient in elevation and fire, except when tinctured by controversial feelings. His muse had not a seraph's wing. In illustration of these remarks, Mr H. referred to the millenium at the end of the sixth book of the Task, and also to the character of George Whitfield. The lecturer went on to mention several other of Cowper's pieces, and to characterise their peculiar merits, and concluded his account of this poet by describing his John Gilpin as perhaps having given as much pleasure to as many people as any thing of the same length that ever was written.

Mr Hazlitt then proceeded to say a few words of Bloomfield and Crabbe, as belonging to the class of descriptive poets. He described the author of the Farmer's Boy as a most faithful and unassuming painter of simple natural scenery, and the still life of the country; but said, that his muse was too humble; that she had an air not only rustic but menial. Bloomfield seems afraid of elevating nature, lest she should be ashamed of him. He gives her simple figure, but leaves it naked, shivering, and unclothed, with the drapery of a moral imagination.

Mr Hazlitt here entered into some ingenious remarks, tending to shew, that we must not expect in these times, and in the present condition of society, that original genius will take the same course, and produce the same