In the Life of Milton, Johnson took occasion to maintain his own and the general opinion of the excellence of rhyme over blank verse, in English poetry[155]; and quotes this apposite illustration of it by ’an ingenious critick,’ that it seems to be verse only to the eye[156].  The gentleman whom he thus characterises, is (as he told Mr. Seward) Mr. Lock[157], of Norbury Park, in Surrey, whose knowledge and taste in the fine arts is universally celebrated; with whose elegance of manners the writer of the present work has felt himself much impressed, and to whose virtues a common friend, who has known him long, and is not much addicted to flattery, gives the highest testimony.

Various Readings in the Life of MILTON.

’I cannot find any meaning but this which [his most bigotted advocates] even kindness and reverence can give.

’[Perhaps no] scarcely any man ever wrote so much, and praised so few.

’A certain [rescue] perservative from oblivion.

’Let me not be censured for this digression, as [contracted] pedantick or paradoxical.

’Socrates rather was of opinion, that what we had to learn was how to [obtain and communicate happiness] do good and avoid evil.

‘Its elegance [who can exhibit?] is less attainable.’

I could, with pleasure, expatiate upon the masterly execution of the Life of DRYDEN, which we have seen[158] was one of Johnson’s literary projects at an early period, and which it is remarkable, that after desisting from it, from a supposed scantiness of materials, he should, at an advanced age, have exhibited so amply.

His defence[159] of that great poet against the illiberal attacks upon him, as if his embracing the Roman Catholick communion had been a time-serving measure, is a piece of reasoning at once able and candid.  Indeed, Dryden himself, in his Hind and Panther, has given such a picture of his mind, that they who know the anxiety for repose as to the aweful subject of our state beyond the grave, though they may think his opinion ill-founded, must think charitably of his sentiment:—­

     ’But, gracious GOD, how well dost thou provide
      For erring judgements an unerring guide! 
      Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light,
      A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. 
      O! teach me to believe thee thus conceal’d,
      And search no farther than thyself reveal’d;
      But Her alone for my director take,
      Whom thou hast promis’d never to forsake. 
      My thoughtless youth was wing’d with vain desires;
      My manhood long misled by wand’ring fires,
      Follow’d false lights; and when their glimpse was gone,
      My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. 
      Such was I, such by Nature still I am;
      Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. 
      Good life be now my task:  my doubts are done;
      What more could shock[160] my faith than Three in One?’