Southerne and Congreve were principally distinguished by Dryden’s friendship.  His intimacy with the former, though oddly commenced, seems soon to have ripened into such sincere friendship, that the aged poet selected Southerne to finish “Cleomenes,” and addressed to him an epistle of condolence on the failure of “The Wives’ Excuse,” which, as he delicately expresses it, “was with a kind civility dismissed” from the scene.  This was indeed an occasion in which even Dryden could tell, from experience, how much the sympathy of friends was necessary to soothe the injured feelings of an author.  But Congreve seems to have gained yet further than Southerne upon Dryden’s friendship.  He was introduced to him by his first play, the celebrated “Old Bachelor,” being put into the poet’s hands to be revised.  Dryden, after making a few alterations to fit it for the stage, returned it to the author with the high and just commendation that it was the best first play he had ever seen.  In truth, it was impossible that Dryden could be insensible to the brilliancy of Congreve’s comic dialogue, which has never been equalled by any English dramatist, unless by Mr. Sheridan.  Less can be said for the tragedies of Southerne, and for “The Mourning Bride.”  Although these pieces contain many passages of great interest, and of beautiful poetry, I know not but they contributed more than even the subsequent homilies of Rowe, to chase natural and powerful expression of passion from the English stage, and to sink it into that maudlin, and affected, and pedantic style of tragedy, which haunted the stage till Shakespeare awakened at the call of Garrick.  “The Fatal Marriage” of Southerne is an exception to this false taste; for no one who has seen Mrs. Siddons in Isabella, can deny Southerne the power of moving the passions, till amusement becomes bitter and almost insupportable distress.  But these observations are here out of place.  Addison paid an early tribute to Dryden’s fame, by the verses addressed to him on his translations.  Among Dryden’s less distinguished intimates, we observe Sir Henry Shere, Dennis the critic, Moyle, Motteux, Walsh, who lived to distinguish the youthful merit of Pope, and other men of the second rank in literature.  These, as his works testify, he frequently assisted with prefaces, occasional verses, or similar contributions.  But among our author’s followers and admirers, we must not reckon Swift, although related to him,[3] and now coming into notice.  It is said, that Swift had subjected to his cousin’s perusal, some of those performances, entitled Odes, which appear in the seventh volume of the last edition of his works.  Even the eye of Dryden was unable to discover the wit and the satirist in the clouds of incomprehensible pindaric obscurity in which he was enveloped; and the aged bard pronounced the hasty, and never to be pardoned sentence,—­ “Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet."[4] A doom which he, on whom it was passed, attempted to repay, by repeated, although impotent, attacks upon the fame of Dryden, everywhere scattered through his works.  With the exception of Swift, no author of eminence, whose labours are still in request, has ventured to assail the poetical fame of Dryden.