(St. Cæcilia's ode excepted) and his pindaric odes being now
neglected, can proceed from no other cause, than that they demand too
much attention for a common reader, and contain sentiments so
sublimely noble, as not to be comprehended by a vulgar mind; but to
those who think, and are accustomed to contemplation, they appear
great and ravishing. In order to illustrate this, we shall quote
specimens in both kinds of poetry; the first taken from his Mistress
called Beauty, the other is a Hymn to Light, both of which, are so
excellent in their kind, that whoever reads them without rapture, may
be well assured, that he has no poetry in his soul, and is insensible
to the flow of numbers, and the charms of sense.


BEAUTY.

I.

Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape,
Who dost in ev'ry country change thy shape!
Here black, there brown, here tawny, and there white;
Thou flatt'rer which compli'st with every sight!
Thou Babel which confound'st the eye
With unintelligible variety!
Who hast no certain what nor where,
But vary'st still, and dost thy self declare
Inconstant, as thy she-professors are.

II.

Beauty, love's scene and masquerade,