first years, and a squanderer in his last.

Of his course of studies, or choice of books, nothing is known more
than that he professed himself unable to read Chapman's translation
of Homer without rapture. His opinion concerning the duty of a poet
is contained in his declaration, that "he would blot from his works
any line that did not contain some motive to virtue."

The characters by which Waller intended to distinguish his writing
are sprightliness and dignity; in his smallest pieces, he endeavours
to be gay; in the larger to be great. Of his airy and light
productions, the chief source is gallantry, that attentive reverence
of female excellence which has descended to us from the Gothic ages.
As his poems are commonly occasional, and his addresses personal, he
was not so liberally supplied with grand as with soft images; for
beauty is more easily found than magnanimity.

The delicacy, which he cultivated, restrains him to a certain nicety
and caution, even when he writes upon the slightest matter. He has,
therefore, in his whole volume, nothing burlesque, and seldom
anything ludicrous or familiar. He seems always to do his best;
though his subjects are often unworthy of his care.

It is not easy to think without some contempt on an author, who is
growing illustrious in his own opinion by verses, at one time, "To a
Lady, who can do anything but sleep, when she pleases;" at another,
"To a Lady who can sleep when she pleases;" now, "To a Lady, on her
passing through a crowd of people;" then, "On a braid of divers
colours woven by four Ladies;" "On a tree cut in paper;" or, "To a
Lady, from whom he received the copy of verses on the paper-tree,