too tiny for touch, they become palpable to vision! On the whole, had
not the "Tempest" and the "Midsummer Night's Dream" existed before the
"Rape of the Lock," the machinery in it would have proclaimed Pope a man
of creative imagination. As it is, it proves wonderful activity of
fancy. Shakspeare's delicate creations are touched again without
crumbling at the touch, clad in new down, fed on a fresh supply of
"honey-dew," and sent out on minor but aerial errands--although, after
all, we prefer Puck and Ariel--not to speak of those delectable
personages, Cobweb, Peaseblossom, and Mustardseed. Ariel's "oak," in our
poet's hands, becomes a "vial"--"knotty entrails" are exchanged for a
"bodkin's eye"--the fine dew of the "still vexed Bermoothes" is degraded
into an "essence;" pomatum takes the place of poetry; the enchanted
lock, of an enchanted isle; and the transformation of original
imagination into ingenious fancy is completed before your eyes. Let the
admirers of Pope, like the worshippers of Caesar of old, "beg a _hair_ of
him for memory;" for certainly he is more at home among hairs and curls
than in any field where he has chosen to exercise his powers.

About Pope originally there was a small, trivial, and stinted
_something_ which did not promise even the greatness he actually
attained. We do not allude merely to his small stature, remembering that
the nine-pin Napoleon overthrew half the thrones in Europe. But _he_
possessed _sana mens in sano copore_, an erect figure, and was "every
inch a man," although his inches were few; while in Pope, both bodily
and mentally, there lay a crooked, waspish, and petty nature. His form
too faithfully reflected his character. He was never, from the beginning
to the close of his life, a great, broad, genial being. There was an
unhealthy taint which partly enfeebled and partly corrupted him. His
self-will, his ambition, his Pariah position, as belonging to the Roman
Catholic faith, the feebleness of his constitution, the uncertainty of