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Juvenem in Collegis S' ti Johannis
Cantabrigia optimis Scientiis instruxit;
Virum denique auxit; et perfecit
Multa cum viris Principibus consuetudo ;
Ita natus, ita institutus,

A Vatum Choro avilli nunquam potuit,'
Sed solebat sæpe rerum Civilium gravitatem
Amoeniorum Literarum studiis condire.
Et cum omne adeo Poetices genus
Haud infiliciter tentaret,

Tum in Fabellis concinne lepideque texendis
Mirus Artifex

Neminem habuit parem.

Hæc liberalis animi oblectamenta;
Quam nullo Illi labore constiterint,

Facile i perspexere, quibus usus est Amici;
ü
Apud quos Urbanitatum et Leporum plenus
Cnm ad rem, quæcunque forte inciderat,
Apte, varie, copioseque alluderet
Interea nihil quasitum, nihil vi expressum
Videbatur,

Sed omnia ultro affluere,

Et quasi jugi a fonte effatim exuberare
Ita suos tandem dubios reliquit,
Essetne in Scriptis, Poeta Elegantior,
An in Convietu Comes Jucundior.

Little is known of Prior's domestic habits. He is said to have been very companionable; and so little fastidious in his choice of society, that he was equally at home with a statesman, a soldier, or a drab. A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine,* says, he was assured, that, after spending the evening with Oxford, Bolingbroke, Pope, and Swift, he would go and smoke a pipe and drink ale with a common soldier and his wife. His Chloes were of the lowest order; and one of them is said to have stolen his plate and run away. His jovial disposition may be collected from a letter to Swift. 'I have,' (says he,) treated lady Harriot at Cambridge (a fellow of a College treat!) and spoke verses to

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her in a gown and cap! What, the plenipotentiary so far concerned in the damned peace of Utrecht; the man that makes up half the volume of terse prose, that makes up the report of the committee, speaking verses! sic est homo sum.' He found, at last, then, that he was nothing more than man. He sat at the opera one evening, by the side of a Frenchman; who accompanied the principal singer with his voice. Prior, in return, began to rail obstreperously against the singer; and, when the Frenchman, at length, ceased singing, and wondered how Prior should thus abuse a person, who was confessedly the soul of the stage. I know all that,' said Prior; but he sings so loud, that it is impossible for me to hear you.' At another time, he was in a company, where every one was to sing a titrastich, ending with Bannissons le Melancholie. Prior was preceded by a young lady, who sat next him,— whether beautiful or not, is immaterial. dressed her with

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The writer of Prior's Epitaph has rightly said, that the muses smiled upon his birth. The whole Nine may be said to have smiled; for he has tried every sort of verse, from the heroic to the hudibrastic; and, what is a rare felicity, has treated all with so equal a hand, that it is difficult to designate the one in which he excels. His stock of thought is never copious; but what he has, he turns to the best account. His language is neat, pure, and, in general, smooth; seldom stiffened by new coined cr unused terms; deformed by quaint phrases; or debased by vulgar modes of expression. In his light pieces he is gay and easy; but, in his graver efforts, he becomes too serious and formal. Wit

is the natural element of his mind; and, when he assumes dignity, he loses his gracefulness. His poetical faculties were not of the highest order; and it may be questioned whether they were the gift of nature, or the acquirements of study.

We have here to notice another instance of Dr. Johnson's disposition to retract, in one place, the praise, which he has given in another. Speaking of Prior's Tales, he says, they are written with great familiarity and great sprightliness; the language is easy, but seldom gross, and the numbers smooth, without appearance of care.' When giving the author's general character, a little after, his expression (says the same critic) has every mark of laborious study; the line seldom seems to have been formed at once; the words did not come till they were called, and were then put by constraint in their places, where they do their duty, but do it sullenly.'

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SOLOMON

ON THE

VANITY OF THE WORLD.

A POEM. IN THREE BOOKS.

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