moment the Americans gained their independence England would fall to utter destruction.
The titles of his poems are somewhat misleading. "The Progress of Error," for example, leads us to expect a philosophical disquisition, whereas we find that the sum of this poem is that operas, card-playing, intemperance, gluttony, reading of bad novels, are the causes of Error; that they who hate truth shall be the dupe of lies. Quite true, of course; but who supposes that this is an adequate account of the progress of Error? In like manner "Truth" is not an essay upon Truth in the abstract, but an assertion of the sinfulness of man, the perfection of God, and hence the need of the propitiation of Christ.
The author improves in his style by practice. The versification of the "Progress of Error" is harsh, but that of "Expostulation" is highly finished. The latter is throughout a beautiful poem. It is an impassioned address to England to avoid the sin, and the consequent ruin, of the Jews, and is said to have been suggested by a fast-sermon of Newton's. Cowper himself liked it better than those which pre- ceded it.[1] So, too, although "Hope" is based on the same idea as that which forms the subject of "Truth," and contains nothing that has not been said before, it is much more pleasing and kindly in expression. "Charity" really concludes this series of Poems; "Conversation" and "Retirement" are quite distinct from it. "Conversation" is the lightest in tone of all; its versification, too, is delightful, while the whole piece is full of wisdom and goodness. "Retirement" has been called the most poetical piece, being rich in illustration, as well as graceful and picturesque. There is less satire in it than in the other pieces. But taken as a whole, the stinging satire is the most telling feature of the whole series of Poems. The sketches of the fox-hunting clergyman and of the travelling youth in the "Progress of Error," of "the ancient prude" in "Truth," of the proser in "Conversation," and, best of all, of Sir Smug in "Hope" are wonderfully pointed and vigorous. The force and severity, joined to good humour and freedom from coarseness and offensiveness, have never been excelled unless by the lamented author of the "Book of Snobs." His language is always well chosen, always the handmaid of the sense. Sometimes he bursts out into impassioned earnestness, as in "Expostulation," and at the end of "Hope." But he falls back into placid smoothness. To use his own simile, he always rides Pegasus with a curb. His rhymes are very frequently indeed inexact, more so than those of any English poet.[2] It would be hard to find a page without a false rhyme or a prosaic line. He intended to produce variety, but when we find him expressing his belief that he has removed all inaccuracies, we can only say that his car was at fault.
