the grandeur of a poem that endeavours at sublimity.
In the second stanza the Bard is well described; but in the third we have the puerilities of obsolete mythology. When we are told that "Cadwallo hush'd the stormy main," and that "Modred made huge Plinlimmon" bow his "cloud-top'd head," attention recoils from the repetition of a tale that, even when it was first heard, was heard with scorn.
The weaving of the winding sheet he borrowed, as he owns, from the northern Bards; but their texure, however, was very properly the work of female powers, as the act of spinning the thread of life in another mythology. Theft is always dangerous; Gray has made weavers of slaughtered bards, by a fiction outrageous and incongruous. They are then called upon to "Weave the warp, and weave the woof," perhaps with no great propriety; for it is by crossing the woof with the warp that men weave the web or piece; and the first line was dearly bought by the admission of its wretched correspondent, "Give ample room and verge
