which, for many years, had been missing."

Genius now and then produces a lucky trifle. We still read the Dove
of Anacreon, and Sparrow of Catullus: and a writer naturally
pleases himself with a performance, which owes nothing to the
subject. But compositions merely pretty have the fate of other
pretty things, and are quitted in time for something useful; they
are flowers fragrant and fair, but of short duration; or they are
blossoms to be valued only as they foretell fruits.

Among Waller's little poems are some, which their excellency ought
to secure from oblivion; as, To Amoret, comparing the different
modes of regard with which he looks on her and Sacharissa; and the
verses on Love, that begin, "Anger in hasty words or blows."

In others he is not equally successful; sometimes his thoughts are
deficient, and sometimes his expression.

The numbers are not always musical; as,


Fair Venus, in thy soft arms
The god of rage confine:
For thy whispers are the charms
Which only can divert his fierce design.
What though he frown, and to tumult do incline;
Thou the flame
Kindled in his breast canst tame
With that snow which unmelted lies on thine.