compensated in our own by the influxes which it has received from the
languages of many other people; and have been yet further improved by
that liberty which it is to be hoped we shall always retain, each man,
of speaking his thoughts after his own guise, without too much regard to
any set mode or fashion.

He had before said, in this same preface, that "our knowledge of the
northern literature is so scanty, that of words undoubtedly Teutonic the
original is not always to be found in any ancient language; and I have
therefore," he adds, "inserted Dutch or German substitutes, which I
consider not as radical, but parallel; not as the parents, but sisters
of the English." And in his history of the English language, speaking of
our Saxon ancestors, to whom we must, I suppose, go for that Teutonic
original which he so strongly recommends, he observes that, "their
speech having been always cursory and extemporaneous, must have been
artless and unconnected, without any modes of transition or involution
of clauses, which abruptness and inconnection may be found even in their
later writings." Of the additions which have been made to this our
original poverty, who shall say what ought to be rejected, and what
retained? who shall say what deficiencies are real, and what imaginary?
what the genius of our tongue may admit of, and what it must refuse? and
in a word, what that native idiom is, a coalition with which is to be
thus studiously consulted?

Throughout his Lives of the Poets, he constantly betrays a want of
relish for the more abstracted graces of the art. When strong sense and
reasoning were to be judged of, these he was able to appreciate justly.
When the passions or characters were described, he could to a certain
extent decide whether they were described truly or no. But as far as
poetry has relation to the kindred arts of music and painting, to both