says of Pindar that he pours his violence and rapidity of verse, as
a river swollen with rain rushes from the mountain; or of himself,
that his genius wanders in quest of poetical decorations, as the bee
wanders to collect honey; he, in either case, produces a simile:
the mind is impressed with the resemblance of things generally
unlike, as unlike as intellect and body. But if Pindar had been
described as writing with the copiousness and grandeur of Homer, or
Horace had told that he reviewed and finished his own poetry with
the same care as Isocrates polished his orations, instead of
similitude, he would have exhibited almost identity; he would have
given the same portraits with different names. In the poem now
examined, when the English are represented as gaining a fortified
pass by repetition of attack and perseverance of resolution, their
obstinacy of courage and vigour of onset are well illustrated by the
sea that breaks, with incessant battery, the dykes of Holland. This
is a simile. But when Addison, having celebrated the beauty of
Marlborough's person, tells us that "Achilles thus was formed of
every grace," here is no simile, but a mere exemplification. A
simile may be compared to lines converging at a point, and is more
excellent as the lines approach from greater distance: an
exemplification may be considered as two parallel lines, which run
on together without approximation, never far separated, and never
joined.

Marlborough is so like the angel in the poem that the action of both
is almost the same, and performed by both in the same manner.
Marlborough "teaches the battle to rage;" the angel "directs the
storm:" Marlborough is "unmoved in peaceful thought;" the angel is
"calm and serene:" Marlborough stands "unmoved amidst the shock of
hosts;" the angel rides "calm in the whirlwind." The lines on