quired whether it be a fimile. A poetical fimile is the discovery of likeness between two actions, in their general nature diffimilar, or of caufes terminating by different operations in fome resemblance of effect. But the mention of another like confequence from a like cause, or of a like performance by a like agency, is not a fimile, but an exemplification. It is not a fimile to say that the Thames waters fields, as the Po waters fields; or that as Hecla vomits flames in Iceland, fo Ætna vomits flames in Sicily. When Horace fays of Pindar, that he pours his violence and rapidity of verse, as a river fwoln with rain rushes from the mountain; or of himfelf, that his genius wanders in queft of poetical decorations, as the bee wanders to collect honey; he, in either cafe, produces a fimile; the mind is impreffed with the refemblance of things generally unlike, as unlike as intellect and body. But if Pindar had been defcribed as writing with the copiousness and grandeur of Homer, or Horace had told that he reviewed and finished his own poetry with the fame care as Ifocrates polished his orations, inftead of fimilitude, he would have exhibited almost identity; he would would have given the fame portraits with different names. In the poem now examined, when the English are reprefented as gaining a fortified pafs, by repetition of attack and perfeverance of refolution; their obftinacy of courage and vigour of onset is well illuftrated by the fea that breaks, with inceffant battery, the dikes of Holland. This is a fimile: but when Addison, having celebrated the beauty of Marlborough's perfon, tells us, that "Achilles thus was formed with every "grace," here is no fimile, but a mere exemplification. A fimile may be compared to lines converging at a point, and is more excellent as the lines approach from greater distance: an exemplification may be confidered as two parallel lines, which run on together without approximation, never far feparated, and never joined. Marlborough is fo like the angel in the poem, that the action of both is almost the fame, and performed by both in the fame manner. Marlborough "teaches the battle "to rage" the angel" directs the storm:" Marlborough is " unmoved in peaceful "thought;" the angel is "calm and ferene;' Marlbo Marlborough ftands unmoved amidst the "fhock of hofts;" the angel rides "calm in "the whirlwind." The lines on Marlborough are juft and noble; but the fimile gives almoft the fame images a fecond time, But perhaps this thought, though hardly a fimile, was remote from vulgar conceptions, and required great labour of research, or dexterity of application. Of this Dr. Madden, a name which Ireland ought to honour, once gave me his opinion. "If I had fet," faid he, "ten fchool-boys to write on the battle of Blenheim, and eight had brought me the Angel, I should not have been surprised." The opera of Rofamond, thought it is feldom mentioned, is one of the first of Addifon's compofitions. The fubject is well chofen, the fiction is pleafing, and the praife of Marlborough, for which the fcene gives an opportunity, is, what perhaps every human excellence must be, the product of good-luck, improved by genius. The thoughts are fometimes great, and sometimes tender; the verfification is eafy and gay. There is doubtless fome advantage in the fhortnefs of the lines, which there is little temptation to load with expletive epithets. The dialogue feems commonly better than the fongs. The two comick characters of Sir Trufty and Grideline, though of no great value, are yet fuch as the poet intended. Sir Trufty's account of the death of Rofamond is, I think, too grofsly abfurd. The whole drama is airy and elegant; engaging in its procefs, and pleafing in its conclufion. If Addison had cultivated the lighter parts of poetry, he would probably have excelled. The tragedy of Cato, which, contrary to the rule obferved in felecting the works of other poets, has by the weight of its character forced its way into the late collection, is unquestionably the nobleft production of Addison's genius. Of a work fo much read, it is difficult to fay any thing new. About things on which the publick think's long, it commonly attains to think right; and of Cato it has been not unjustly determined, that it is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama, rather a fucceffion of just sentiments in elegant language, than a representation of natural affections, or of any ftate probable or poffible poffible in human life. Nothing here « ex cites or affuages emotion:" here is "no "magical power of raifing phantaftick ter"ror or wild anxiety." The events are expected without folicitude, and are remembered without joy or forrow. Of the agents we have no care; we confider not what they are doing, or what they are fuffering; we wifh only to know what they have to say. Cato is a being above our folicitude; a man of whom the gods take care, and whom we leave to their care with heedlefs confidence. To the reft, neither gods nor men can have much attention; for there is not one among ft them that strongly attracts either affection or esteem. But they are made the vehicles of fuch fentiments and fuch expreffion, that there is fcarcely a scene in the play which the reader does not wifh to imprefs upon his memory. When Cato was fhewn to Pope *, he advifed the author to print it, without any theatrical exhibition; fuppofing that it would be read more favourably than heard. Addi * Spence. fon |