for one more invocation to Julia. From Suckling we should have had
a bantering playfulness, or a fescennine gaiety, equally unsuited
to the subject. Waller had once an opportunity of realizing the
position, which has been described by his contemporary in immortal
stanzas; but Waller, when he was under confinement, was thinking
too much of his neck to write verses with much felicity, and
preferred waiting, till he got back to Beaconsfield (when his
inspiration had evaporated), to pour out his feelings to Lady
Dorothy or Lady Sophia. Wither's song, "Shall I wasting in
Despair," is certainly superior to the SONG TO ALTHEA. Wither was
frequently equal to Lovelace in poetical imagery and sentiment, and
he far excelled him in versification. The versification of
Lovelace is indeed more rugged and unmusical than that of any other
writer of the period, and this blemish is so conspicuous throughout
LUCASTA, and is noticeable in so many cases, where it might have
been avoided with very little trouble, that we are naturally led to
the inference that Lovelace, in writing, accepted from indolence or
haste, the first word which happened to occur to his mind. Daniel,
Drayton, and others were, it is well known, indefatigable revisers
of their poems; they "added and altered many times," mostly
for the better, occasionally for the worse. We can scarcely
picture to ourselves Lovelace blotting a line, though it would
have been well for his reputation, if he had blotted many.

In the poem of the LOOSE SARABAND (p. 34) there is some resemblance
to a piece translated from Meleager in Elton's SPECIMENS OF CLASSIC
POETS, i. 411, and entitled by Elton "Playing at Hearts."

"Love acts the tennis-player's part,
And throws to thee my panting heart;