little trifles in verse. Witness the “Lines to Mr. Addison,” by William Somervile:
“In heaven he [Shakespeare] sings; on earth your muse supplies
Th’ important loss, and heals our weeping eyes.”
Or take these lines by John Hughes, “To Mr. Addison on his Tragedy of Cato”:
“Great Shakespeare’s ghost, the solemn strain to hear
(Methinks I see the laurel’d shade appear!),
Will hover o’er the scene, and wondering view
His favourite Brutus rival’d thus by you.”
If one could suppose this to have been written in an ironic vein, the lines would be satisfactorily pointed; but it is impossible, for Hughes continues:
“Such Roman greatness in each action shines,