Mr. Sotheby’s translation of the Oberon made the poem popular in this country.  The original first appeared in 1780.  S. C.

I said that I did not perceive any very striking passages; but that I made allowance for the imperfections of a translation.  Of the thefts of Wieland, he said, they were so exquisitely managed, that the greatest writers might be proud to steal as he did.  He considered the books and fables of old romance writers in the light of the ancient mythology, as a sort of common property, from which a man was free to take whatever he could make a good use of.  An Englishman had presented him with the odes of Collins, which he had read with pleasure.  He knew little or nothing of Gray, except his ELEGY written in a country CHURCH-YARD.  He complained of the fool in LEAR.  I observed that he seemed to give a terrible wildness to the distress; but still he complained.  He asked whether it was not allowed, that Pope had written rhymed poetry with more skill than any of our writers—­I said I preferred Dryden, because his couplets had greater variety in their movement.  He thought my reason a good one; but asked whether the rhyme of Pope were not more exact.  This question I understood as applying to the final terminations, and observed to him that I believed it was the case; but that I thought it was easy to excuse some inaccuracy in the final sounds, if the general sweep of the verse was superiour.  I told him that we were not so exact with regard to the final endings of lines as the French.  He did not seem to know that we made no distinction between masculine and feminine (i.e. single or double,) rhymes:  at least he put inquiries to me on this subject.  He seemed to think, that no language could be so far formed as that it might not be enriched by idioms borrowed from another tongue.  I said this was a very dangerous practice; and added, that I thought Milton had often injured both his prose and verse by taking this liberty too frequently.  I recommended to him the prose works of Dryden as models of pure and native English.  I was treading upon tender ground, as I have reason to suppose that he has himself liberally indulged in the practice.

The same day I dined at Mr. Klopstock’s, where I had the pleasure of a third interview with the poet.  We talked principally about indifferent things.  I asked him what he thought of Kant.  He said that his reputation was much on the decline in Germany.  That for his own part he was not surprised to find it so, as the works of Kant were to him utterly incomprehensible—­that he had often been pestered by the Kanteans; but was rarely in the practice of arguing with them.  His custom was to produce the book, open it and point to a passage, and beg they would explain it.  This they ordinarily attempted to do by substituting their own ideas.  I do not want, I say, an explanation of your own ideas, but of the passage which is before us.  In this way I generally bring the dispute