We have already seen, that in his political capacity he was a declared enemy to popery, and a bold defender of revolution principles.  He was held in much esteem by many great men, and though he never enjoyed any regular pod under the government, yet he was frequently employed in matters of trust and confidence, particularly in Scotland, where he several times was sent on affairs of great importance, especially those relative to the union of the kingdoms, of which he was one of the negotiators.

It is impossible to arrive at the knowledge of half the tracts and pamphlets which were written by this laborious man, as his name is not prefixed, and many of them being temporary, have perished like all other productions of that kind, when the subjects upon which they were written are forgot.  His principal performances, perhaps, are these,

A Plan of Commerce, an esteemed Work, in one large vol. 8vo. of which a new edition was lately published.

Memoirs of the Plague, published in 1665.

Religious Courtship.

Family Instructor.  Two Volumes.

History of Apparitions (under the name of Moreton.)

Robinson Crusoe.  Two Volumes.

Political History of the Devil.

History of Magic.

Caledonia, a Poem in praise of Scotland.

De Jure Divino, a Poem.

English Tradesman, &c.

History of Colonel Jack.

Cleveland’s Memoirs, &c. are also said to be his.  Considered as a poet, Daniel De Foe is not so eminent, as in a political light:  he has taken no pains in verification; his ideas are masculine, his expressions coarse, and his numbers generally rough.  He seems rather to have studied to speak truth, by probing wounds to the bottom, than, by embellishing his verification, to give it a more elegant keenness.  This, however, seems to have proceeded more from carelessness in that particular, than want of ability:  for the following lines in his True Born Englishman, in which he makes Britannia rehearse the praises of her hero, King William, are harmoniously beautiful, and elegantly polished.

  Britannia.

  The fame of virtue ’tis for which I found,
  And heroes with immortal triumphs crown’d. 
  Fame built on solid virtue swifter flies,
  Than morning light can spread my eastern skies. 
  The gath’ring air returns the doubling sound,
  And long repeating thunders force it round: 
  Ecchoes return from caverns of the deep;
  Old Chaos dreamt on’t in eternal sleep,
  Time helps it forward to its latest urn,
  From whence it never, never shall return;
  Nothing is heard so far, or lasts so long;
  ’Tis heard by ev’ry ear, and spoke by ev’ry tongue.

  My hero, with the sails of honour furl’d,
  Rises like the great genius of the world. 
  By fate, and fame, wisely prepared to be
  The soul of war, and life of victory. 
  He spreads the wings of virtue on the throne,
  And every wind of glory fans them on. 
  Immortal trophies dwell upon his brow,
  Fresh as the garlands he has won but now.