some change since the death of the poet. The grotto leading from the villa to the Thames is in a sad condition.
The following lines, written by Pope soon after finishing this idol of his fancy, show in what estimate he held it, and should at least have preserved it from decay:
"Thou who shalt stop where Thames' translucent wave
Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave;
Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distill,
And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill;
Unpolished gems no ray on pride bestow,
And latent metals innocently glow—
Approach! Great nature studiously behold!
And eye the mine without a wish for gold.
Approach—but awful! Lo! the Egerian grot,
Where, nobly pensive, St. John sate and thought;
Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole,
And the bright flame was shot through Marchmont's soul.
Let such—such only—tread this sacred floor,
Who dare to love their country and be poor."
It is strange that there are some at the present day who deny that Pope was a poet; but it seems to me that such either show a want of appreciation of poetry, or themselves no judge of what constitutes poetry. Where can be found a finer effusion than the "Essay on Man"? Johnson, in his admirable Life of Pope, in drawing a comparison between him and Dryden, says, "If the flights of Dryden are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing; if of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope is the heat more regular and constant. Dryden
