No Man, I believe, has read without Pleasure, his fine and lively
Descriptions of the Nar, Clitumnus, Mincio, and Albula, but the
worst of it is, he winds us so long, in and out, between these
Rivers, that he loses himself in their Maeanders, and brings us,
at last, to a strange Stream indeed, which is 'immortaliz'd in
Song,' and yet 'lost In Oblivion.'
"I look for Streams, immortaliz'd, in Song,
Which lost, and buried in Oblivion lie."
The Thought, in this Place, is very lively and just, but quite
obscur'd by the Redundancy and Wantonness of the Expression. Had
he only said 'lost,' and 'buried,' It might have been urg'd, that
the Rivers were dry'd up, and no longer to be found, in their old
Channels. But, let them be lost, as to Existence, as certainly as
he will, they can never be lost in 'Oblivion,' if they are
'immortaliz'd' in Poetry. 'Immortal' is a favourite Word in this
Gentleman's Writings, and leads him, as most Favourites are apt
to do, into very frequent Errors.
It is naturally unpleasant, to be detain'd too long in the
Maziness of one tedious Thought, express'd many Ways
successively. When we read that the 'Tiber is destitute of
Strength,' what else can we conclude, but that its Stream is a
weak one? But we are oblig'd to hear, also, that it 'derives its
Source from an unthrifty Urn': Well, now, may we go on? No; its
'Urn' is not only 'unthrifty,' but its 'Source' is unfruitful.
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