Cibber's
familiar style, however, was better than that which Whitehead has
assumed. GRAND nonsense is insupportable. Whitehead is but a little man
to inscribe verses to players.
'Sir, I do not think Gray a first-rate poet. He has not a bold
imagination, nor much command of words. The obscurity in which he has
involved himself will not persuade us that he is sublime. His Elegy in
a Church-yard has a happy selection of images, but I don't like what are
called his great things. His Ode which begins
"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King,
Confusion on thy banners wait!"
has been celebrated for its abruptness, and plunging into the subject
all at once. But such arts as these have no merit, unless when they are
original. We admire them only once; and this abruptness has nothing new
in it. We have had it often before. Nay, we have it in the old song of
Johnny Armstrong:
"Is there ever a man in all Scotland
From the highest estate to the lowest degree," &c.
And then, Sir,
"Yes, there is a man in Westmoreland,
And Johnny Armstrong they do him call.
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