If the late excellent Mr. Addison, whose Verses abound in Graces,
which can never be too much admir'd, shall be, often, found
liable to an Overflow of his Meaning, by this Dropsical
Wordiness, which we so generally give into, it will serve at the
same time, as a Comfort, and a Warning; and incline us to a
severe Examination of our Writings, when we venture out upon a
World, that will, one time or other, be sure to censure us
impartially; In That Gentleman's Works, whoever looks close, will
discover Thorns on every Branch of his Roses; For Example, we all
hear, with Delight, in his celebrated Letter from Italy, that,
there,
... The Muse so oft her Harp has strung,
That not a Mountain rears its Head unsung.
But, he adds, in the very next Line, that every shady Thicket
too, grows renown'd in Verse; now one can never help remembering,
that Thickets are Births, as it were of Yesterday; the mere
Infancy of Woods! and that the oldest Woods in Italy may be
growing on Foundations of ruin'd Cities, which flourish'd in the
Times he there speaks of; whence it must naturally be inferr'd,
that to say, the Italian Thickets grow renown'd in Roman Verse,
though the Mountains really do so, is to make Use of Words,
without Regard to their Meaning; A Lapse of dangerous
Consequence, because, when the Understanding is once shock'd,
this most rapturous Elevation of the Mind (as when cold Water is
thrown suddenly upon boiling) sinks at once to chilling Flatness,
and is considered as mere Gingle and childish Amusement.
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