Modern poetry too often resembles an artificial nosegay, the colours of which, though splendid, are yet tawdry, and heightened far beyond the modesty of nature, without any pretensions to fragrance; while that of a century and an half back appears as a garland fresh from the gardens of nature, and still moist and glittering with the dews of the morning.Headley—Introd. p. 25.
