When Swift was a young man, and not so well acquainted with the world as he afterwards became, he wrote some Pindaric Odes.  In this species of composition he succeeded ill; sublimity and fire, the indispensable requisites in a Pindaric Ode not being his talent.  As Mr. Dryden was Swift’s kinsman, these odes were shewn to him for his approbation, who said to him with an unreserved freedom, and in the candour of a friend, ’Cousin Swift, turn your thoughts some other way, for nature has never formed you for a Pindaric poet.’

Though what Dryden observed, might in some measure be true, and Swift perhaps was conscious that he had not abilities to succeed in that species of writing; yet this honest dissuasive of his kinsman he never forgave.  The remembrance of it soured his temper, and heated his passions, whenever Dryden’s name was mention’d.

We shall now take a view of Swift in his moral life, the distinction he has obtained in the literary world having rendered all illustrations of his genius needless.

Lord Orrery, throughout his excellent work, from which we have drawn our account of Swift, with his usual marks of candour, has displayed his moral character.  In many particulars, the picture he draws of the Dean resembles the portrait of the same person as drawn by Mrs. Pilkington.

’I have beheld him (says his lordship) in all humours and dispositions, and I have formed various speculations from the several weaknesses to which I observed him liable.  His capacity, and strength of mind, were undoubtedly equal to any talk whatsoever.  His pride, his spirit, or his ambition (call it by what name you please) was boundless; but his views were checked in his younger years, and the anxiety of that disappointment had a sensible effect upon all his actions.  He was sour and severe, but not absolutely ill-natur’d.  He was sociable only to particular friends, and to them only at particular hours.  He knew politeness more than he practiced it.  He was a mixture of avarice and generosity; the former was frequently prevalent, the latter seldom appeared unless excited by compassion.  He was open to adulation, and would not, or could not, distinguish between low flattery and just applause.  His abilities rendered him superior to envy.  He was undisguised, and perfectly sincere.  I am induced to think that he entered into orders, more from some private and fixed resolution, than from absolute choice:  Be that as it may, he performed the duties of the church with great punctuality, and a decent degree of devotion.  He read prayers, rather in a strong nervous voice, than in a graceful manner; and although he has been often accused of irreligion, nothing of that kind appeared in his conversation or behaviour.  His cast of mind induced him to think and speak more of politics than religion.  His perpetual views were directed towards power; and his chief aim was to be removed to England:  But when he found himself entirely disappointed, he turned his thoughts to opposition, and became the Patron of Ireland.’