glows in their bosoms; but the subject of their effusions is usually
connected not with their own personal qualities, or feats, but with
some extraneous object of their pursuit, or admiration. Thus, the
burst of Hotspur concerning the pursuit of honour paints his
enthusiastic character; but it would be hard to point out a passage
indicating that exuberant confidence in his own prowess, and contempt
of every one else, so liberally exhibited by Almanzor. Instances of
this defect are but too thickly sown through the piece; for example
the following rant.

If from thy hands alone my death can be,
I am immortal, and a God to thee.
If I would kill thee now, thy fate's so low,
That I must stoop ere I can give the blow.
But mine is fixed so far above thy crown,
That all thy men,
Piled on thy back, can never pull it down.
But, at my ease, thy destiny I send,
By ceasing from this hour to be thy friend.
Like heaven, I need but only to stand still;
And, not concurring to thy life, I kill.
Thou canst no title to my duty bring;
I am not thy subject, and my soul's thy king.
Farewell! When I am gone,
There's not a star of thine dare stay with thee:
I'll whistle thy tame fortune after me;
And whirl fate with me wheresoe'er I fly,
As winds drive storms before them in the sky.

This curious passage did not escape the malicious criticism of Settle,