'he must have a genius extraordinary; great natural gifts; a wit just, fruitful, piercing, solid, and universal; an understanding clear and distinct; an imagination neat and pleasant; an elevation of soul that depends not only on art or study, but is purely the gift of heaven, which must be sustained by a lively sense and vivacity; judgment to consider wisely of things, and vivacity for the beautiful expression of them,'&c.

Now, how justly this character is due to our author we leave to the impartial reader, and those of nicer judgment, who had the happiness to be more intimately acquainted with him.

The reputation of this incomparable poem is so thoroughly established in the world, thatTM it would be superfluous, if not impertinent, to endeavour any panegyric upon it. King Charles II. whom the judicious part of mankind will readily acknowledge to be a sovereign judge of wit, was so great an admirer of it, that he would often pleasantly quote it in his conversation. However, since most men have a curiosity to have some account of such anonymous authors whose compositions have been eminent for wit or learning, we have, for their information, subjoined a short Life of the Author.

Was born in the parish of Strensham, in Worcestershire, in 1612, probably in February, as we find that he was christened on the 14th day of that month. Of his parents our information is very scanty. They gave himn education, however, at the grammar school of Worcester, whence he was removed either to Cambridge or Oxford.

For some time he was clerk to Mr. Jefferys, of Earls-Croomb, in Worcestershire, an eminent justice of the peace; and, while in this gentleman's service, had leisure for study, and amused himself by practising music and painting. He was afterward admitted into the family of the Countess of Kent, where he enjoyed the use of a library, and the conversation of the celebrated Selden. From this house he removed into the family of Sir Samuel Luke, one of Cromwell's officers, and from what he saw here, is supposed to have conceived the design of ridiculing the practices of the republican party, and of forming his hero on some peculiarities in the character of Sir Samuel.

On the restoration, he was made secretary to the Earl of Carbury, president of the principality of Wales, who conferred on him the stewardship of Ludlow Castle, which Mr. Warton thinks was a very honourable and lucrative office. About this time he married Mrs. Herbert, a lady of some fortune, which, one of his biographers informs us, was lost by bad securities.

In 1663, the first three cantos of his Hudibras were published, and introduced to the attention of the court by the Earl of Dorset. In the following year, the second part made its appearance; and such was the general popularity of this poem, and the particular favour with which it was received by the king and courtiers, that every one expected some special reward would be bestowed on the ingenious author: but, except three hundred guineas which the king is

said, upon no very good authority, to have sent to him, we find no trace of any reward or promotion whatever. Discouraging as this treatment was, Butler published the third part in 1678, which still leaves the story imperfect.

He died in 1680, and was buried in the church-yard of Covent Garden. About sixty years afterward, Alderman Barber, the printer, erected a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey.

After his death three small volumes of his posthumous pieces were published, but among them are many spurious. In 1759, Mr. Thayer, of Manchester, published two volumes, which are indubitably genuine, and consist of prose and verse; but from neither of these publications can we collect any information as to his private life and character. He is said to have made no figure in conversation proportionate to the wit displayed in his immortal poem; and King Charles, who had a curiosity to see him, could never be brought to believe that he wrote Hudibras.

Butler has usually been ranked among the unfortunate poets who have been neglected by their age; yet although we can find no proof of royal munificence having been extended to him, there appears no reason to think that he was poor in the most unfavourable sense.

Although the persons and events introduced in Hudibras are now forgotten, or known only to historic students, the exquisite humour of this piece is still as keenly relished as when first presented to the public; and much of it has long been introduced into conversation as axioms of wit and sense. It has, indeed, been justly observed by Dr. Nash, that, concerning Hudibras, there is but one sentiment: it is universally allowed to be the first and last poem of its kind; the learning, wit, and humour certainly stand nrivalled.

HUDIBRAS.

PART I-CANTO I.

Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sally'd forth,
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse's virtues and his own.
Th' adventure of the Bear and Fidde
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.
WHEN Civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears,

And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For dame Religion as for punk;
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Tho' not a man of them knew wherefore;
When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastick,

Was beat with fist instead of a stick ;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a colonelling.

A wight he was whose very sight would
Entitle him Mirrour of Knighthood;
That never bow'd his stubborn knee
To any thing but chivalry;
Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade:
Chief of domestic knights and errant,
Either for chartel or for warrant;

5

10

15

20

1. Dudgeon. Who made the alterations in the last edition of this poem I know not, but they are certainly sometimes for the worse; and I cannot believe the author would have changed a word so proper in that place as 'dudgeon' is, for that of fury, as it is in the last edition. To take in dudgeon, is inwardly to resent some injury or affront; a sort of grumbling in the gizzard, and what is previous to actual fury.

Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
That could as well bind o'er as swaddle:
Mighty he was at both of these,
And styl❜d of war as well as peace.
(So some rats, of amphibious nature,
Are either for the land or water.)
But here our author makes a doubt,
Whether he were more wise or stout.
Some hold the one, and some the other;
But howso'er they make a pother,
The diff'rence was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool,
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool.
For 't has been held by many, that
As Montaigne, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she would Sir Hudibras
(For that's the name our valiant Knight
To all his challenges did write.)

25

30

35

40,

But they're mistaken very much;

'Tis plain enough he was no such.

We grant, altho' he had much wit,
H' was very shy of using it;
As being loth to wear it out,
And therefore bore it not about;

45

Unless on holy-days, or so,

As men their best apparel do.

50%

Beside, 'tis known he could speak Greek

As naturally as pigs squeak:

That Latin was no more difficile,

Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle.
Being rich in both, he never scanted

55

His bounty unto such as wanted:
But much of either would afford
To many that had not one word.
For Hebrew roots, altho' they're found
To flourish most in barren ground,

60%

24. Bind over to the sessions, as being a justice of the peace in his county, as well as a colonel of a regiment of foot in the Parliament's army, and a committee-man. 38. Montaigne, in his Essays, supposes his cat thought him a fool for losing his time in pla; ing with her.