Marlborough are just and noble, but the simile gives almost the same
images a second time. But perhaps this thought, though hardly a
simile, was remote from vulgar conceptions, and required great
labour and research, or dexterity of application. Of this Dr.
Madden, a name which Ireland ought to honour, once gave me his
opinion. "If I had set," said he, "ten schoolboys to write on the
battle of Blenheim, and eight had brought me the angel, I should not
have been surprised."

The opera of Rosamond, though it is seldom mentioned, is one of the
first of Addison's compositions. The subject is well chosen, the
fiction is pleasing, and the praise of Marlborough, for which the
scene gives an opportunity, is, what perhaps every human excellence
must be, the product of good luck improved by genius. The thoughts
are sometimes great, and sometimes tender; the versification is easy
and gay. There is doubtless some advantage in the shortness of the
lines, which there is little temptation to load with expletive
epithets. The dialogue seems commonly better than the songs. The
two comic characters of Sir Trusty and Grideline, though of no great
value, are yet such as the poet intended. Sir Trusty's account of
the death of Rosamond is, I think, too grossly absurd. The whole
drama is airy and elegant; engaging in its process, and pleasing in
its conclusion. If Addison had cultivated the lighter parts of
poetry, he would probably have excelled.

The tragedy of Cato, which, contrary to the rule observed in
selecting the works of other poets, has by the weight of its
character forced its way into the late collection, is unquestionably
the noblest production of Addison's genius. Of a work so much read,
it is difficult to say anything new. About things on which the