Rev. Thomas Warton

I. H., "A Tribute to Mr. Warton in a short Account of his Character and Writings" European Magazine 29 (January-May 1796) 7-9, 77-78, 230-32, 312-13.

What though no marble piled bust
Adorn his ever-honoured dust,
With speaking sculpture wrought,
Friendship shall woo the weeping Nine
To build a visionary shrine,
Hung with unfading flow'rs, from fairy regions brought,
—There viewless mourners shall delight
To touch the shadowy shell,
And Petrarch's harp—
In many a solemn pause, shall seem to ring his knell.

As I see you admit into your valuable Miscellany several Characters of Men eminent for learning and merit, I address myself to your indulgence, in hopes of procuring a place in your elegant Repository of Literature for a short sketch of the Life, Learning, and amiable Character of the late Mr. Warton; until (it is to be hoped) some future Biographer, more adequate to the task, shall perpetuate the many excellent qualities he possessed, as well as the extent of his genius and his learning; and who for so great a number of years made so conspicuous a figure both for literary merit, and for worth of character. The privilege of being recorded after death, whatever be the value of it, is now become an appendage of Authorship; insomuch that the most insignificant men have had their lives written, and their characters perpetuated. How ungrateful then is it to the memory of such a man as Mr. Warton, to neglect so small a tribute to his worth!

Who would not sing for Lycidas? He knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not sleep in his lone grave,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.

With the public character of the worthy man who is the subject of this small tribute to his memory, the world is well acquainted; but his private virtues (such was his modest, unassuming merit) were only known to the circle of his friends: I would wish to place his character in that just light it deserved; and that it may be as valuable as his writings, in which pure taste and elegance breathe throughout. Most certainly the memory of such a man should not pass unnoticed and undistinguished from the common herd; nor should his name expire with his breath; but it will ever live in the remembrance of those who knew so much worth and merit. It has indeed been a matter of surprize as well as regret, that no one has yet done that justice to the amiable character of this good man, who surely deserved somewhat more notice than the mere common-place accounts exhibited in the journals of a newspaper.

The late excellent Dr. Johnson, speaking of a celebrated author, says, "It is altogether as equitable some account should be given of those who have distinguished themselves by their writings, as those who are renowned for great actions; and since their genius is discovered by their works, it is but just that their virtues should be recorded by their friends. For no modest man (as the person I write of was in perfection) will write his own panegyric; and it is hard they should go without reputation, only because (from their modesty) they should more deserve it." "Not a learned man or a poet can die in France, but all Europe must be made acquainted with the whole of their lives. They are very just to the merits of eminent men." I am convinced, that if they had had among them the amiable person I am writing of, whose memory must be ever dear to all lovers of literature, and knew how to value his merit, his learning, and above all his goodness of heart, that he would have been a subject of their panegyric. But I shall endeavour to do justice to his memory, however unequal to the undertaking. I am aware that biography is, however, often from the peculiar merit of the person who is the subject of it, so delightful to the writer, that he knows not often how to adapt his expressions, so as to satisfy his own feelings, and at the same time, do justice to the character he is describing, without rendering himself liable to the suspicion of partiality or interest. In the present case, however, there is no fear the character will be exaggerated. We cannot go beyond what the public voice has already declared to be the opinion of all who knew Mr. Warton; and I am happy to pay this small tribute to the memory of so good a man, and departed genius.

The reader is not to expect in this short sketch of my worthy friend any wonderful adventures, wild schemes of ambition, "hair-breadth 'scapes," or strange turns of fortune; his life was private and blameless; the mild virtues of benevolence, gentleness, and kindness, in the most extensive sense of the word, were the prevailing traits in his character.

Mr. Warton was descended from an antient and honourable family in the North of England, from Sir Michael Warton, Bart. of Warton Hall, Lancashire, and of the wealthy and respectable family of the same name at Beverly, in Yorkshire. The parents of both his father and mother lived in affluence, and were eminently good. The father of Mr. Warton, indeed, deserves separately an eulogium, for merit, learning, and for genius; he was highly respected, not only for his literary talents (which were great), but for his worth and virtues. He was Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, and Professor of Poetry in that University, universally esteemed for learning and for genius. He had two sons, and one daughter, but did not live to have the happiness to see those sons, "the learned brothers," (as Dr. Johnson calls them, with whom they were intimately acquainted) arrive at their future literary fame. Dr. Joseph Warton, the eldest son, whose public and private character is above all praise, and Mr. Warton, the subject of this memoir, equally estimable, were both very young men when they had the misfortune of losing their excellent father. Mr. Warton was then a mere youth of fifteen or sixteen years. His mother survived her worthy husband for some years; she was daughter to the Rev. Mr. Richardson, of Dunsfold, Surrey; a man of exemplary character, and she inherited all his virtues. My then young friend, before the age of sixteen, was chosen for his literary merit Scholar of Trinity College, Oxford. He went through his academical studies with great applause; and, young as he was, a generous and noble emulation grew up with him, which pushed him upon striving to excel, and which, in fact, soon made him an ornament to his College, in one of the most learned and polite Universities in the world. He very early distinguished himself by the superiority of his exercises. It is certain his excellent poem, "The Progress of Discontent" (see Dodsley's Collection, and Mr. Warton's Poems), owed its origin to some Latin verses subjoined to a theme when he was a mere boy, with which the then President, Dr. Huddesford, was so much pleased, that he desired him to paraphrase them in English. And I have heard from the best authority, that his beautiful poem, "The Pleasures of Melancholy," which it has been said by the first Critic of the age, would not have disgraced the latter works of Pope, was written at the very early age of sixteen. But on the head of his early genius I shall more expatiate, when I enter on the subject of his great mental endowments.

Mr. Warton proceeded M.A. 1750, B.D. 1767; was elected Poetry Professor on the death of Mr. Hawkins, 1756, which he resigned in 1771, about which time he was elected F.A.S. In the year 1771 the Earl of Litchfield presented him with the Living of Kiddington, in Oxfordshire, and he had also the donative of Hill-Farance, in Somersetshire. In 1787 his Majesty presented him with the Laureatship; and in the same year he was chosen Camden Professor in the University of Oxford, on the resignation of Dr. Scot.

Mr. Warton was the Senior Fellow of his College, in which he had resided 45 years. So many years of almost constant residence had peculiarly endeared him to that Society, of which he was so great an honour; and the last moments of his blameless life were there finished, surrounded by his friends. He had been some little while before indisposed with the gout (which by exercise he had many years escaped), but was thought in a fair way of recovery: — the day which preceded his lamented death (May 20, 1790) he appeared remarkably cheerful, and supped and passed the evening in the Common Room, amongst his friends of the College. Between ten and eleven he sunk in his chair; they thought him only dozing, but on approaching him, to their inexpressible grief; found he was seized with a dire paralytic stroke, and quite dead on one side. He was immediately conveyed to his room, but continued insensible till the next day, when it pleased Heaven to take him to itself. Had he been called to the task of fortitude and resignation by a long state of suffering in a painful illness, no doubt but that calmness and patience for which he was eminent, would not have forsaken him; but he was spared this trial by the above sudden and (I humbly trust) easy passage from this life to that of a better state; which is perfectly congenial to the goodness and philanthropy which so particularly distinguished him. Though he was called from this world on so short a notice, none thought it too sudden for him, though much too soon for all who knew him.


Before I enter on the subject of Mr. Warton's great literary abilities, I must mention what is more estimable, the virtues and goodness of his heart. Truth, honour, and a generosity of disposition, endeared him to all who knew him; and all who did, will testify to his simple, honest character. From a purity of intention, and an unsuspecting honest of heart, flowed a gentleness, a simplicity of manners, which rendered him highly amiable to his acquaintance, and endearing to his friends. Faithful to his promises, attentive to the delicacies of strict honour, he was above all the meanness of disguise, and all the little evasions of cold and selfish hearts; gave a luster to every virtue. His liberality of mind, delicate honour, generosity, and fidelity in friendship, were highly estimable. He never did a mean action: — always exalted, always excellent, noble, and elevated in his sentiments, his character was unsullied. He was eminent for all the mild and social virtues. The goodness and sweetness of his disposition were remarkable; his temper was always calm and unruffled. I have seen, frequently, instances of his extreme mildness and forbearance, under much provocation, that might be held forth as an example to the world. Such was the elevation of his mind, that he appeared totally above taking notice of what so often discomposes even men of sense and learning; such as the contradictions, scoffs, slights,

And scorns, which patient merit
Of th' unworthy takes;

and which are looked on as real grievances in life. But his indifference to these things I attribute to his noble way of thinking. I was intimately acquainted with him for above forty years; and never once saw him what is called "being out of humour," such was the excellence of his disposition.


One of the chief traits in Mr. Warton's character was his benevolence. How great must be the charitable temper he possessed, when his income, which solely arose from his merit and literary labours, was great part of it (and the writer of this knows it to be a fact) spent in benevolent actions! As he was the least ostentatious of men, much of his generous goodness was concealed — yet much was known to the world — the rest only to his Creator, to good Angels, and to himself: his beneficence, like himself, was silent and sincere; it was various in kind, and in manner most obliging.

Dec. 17, 1795.

Of Mr. Warton's literary abilities, genius, and learning, much might be said. He was one of those hard students, who have early stored their memories with sentiments and images; and one of those Poets, who have very early felt the motions of genius. He owed to Nature excellent faculties and a strong mind, and to industry and great application, many acquired accomplishments. His taste was just and delicate; his judgment clear and strong, accompanied with an imagination of great compass, and richly stored with refined ideas. His mind, vigorous and fervid, was supplied with unceasing and unlimited enquiry, with great extent and variety of knowledge. He had the most perfect command of his intellectual powers, and no one used them with more propriety and effect. His literature was unquestionably great; he had a quickness of apprehension, and strength of mind, which easily understood and surmounted the most difficult points of learning, joined with indefatigable application. But of his application to books, which began at a very early age, and was cultivated with unremitting attention to the end of his life, it was uncommon: we may say, he almost lived in the Libraries at Oxford; and from his love of books he was never to be diverted. As Dr. Johnson says of Pope, "he was one of those few to whom the labour of study is a pleasure." On this head, I cannot help mentioning an anecdote I know of his uncommon application to books at a very early age, as it is extraordinary; and I know it to be a fact, from a Gentleman then intimate in his family: That when he was a boy of only eleven or twelve years old, so devoted was he to his studies, that in the excessive cold nights of the severest winter perhaps ever felt in England (in 1739-40), he would leave the chearful fire-side of his social family, and retire alone to his chamber, where (in extreme cold) he would "intrepidly" (if I may so use the expression) sit hours constantly and most laboriously working at his books, with the closest intenseness; not in writing a schoolboy's TASK, but in making learned researches, as a matter of pleasure and amusement: whilst the chearful family below have been wondering where he was, and vainly attempting to make him one of the social circle. Such a proof of the strong love of literature, at such an early age (and this too in Christmas holidays), delights as it is strange, and instructs as it is real; and is a convincing proof of the vigour and activity of his young mind.


His works both in poetry and prose were various, and, if they were all collected, would reflect on him the highest honour; but his modest merit (shunning applause) ever disclaimed the just praise which talents and industry like his merited. He was equally excellent in prose as in poetry. Of poetry, every reader of taste will see, he was of the school of Spenser and Milton, rather than that of Pope; and like Milton, his favourite author was Spenser (see his ingenious Essay on that Author's works). It was prettily said, by an admired Poet [Isaac D'Israeli] (speaking of Mr. Warton),

—He won the musing train,
And Spenser, smiling, lov'd his own sweet strain.

At a very early age, my friend began to write verses; he might be said, with Cowley and Milton, to "lisp in numbers:" like Cowley he gave very early proofs, not only of the power of language, but of genius. I am now speaking of what he did before he went to the University: some of those very early compositions got abroad, which (as Dr. Johnson says of Mr. Stepney) "might make gray Authors blush;" but such was his modest diffidence, he would never suffer them to be published. I have already mentioned, that when merely a boy of sixteen, just entered at Oxford, he wrote his excellent Poem, "The Progress of Discontent." But what shall we say of the beautiful Poem "The Pleasures of Melancholy?" written also at that age.

E'en in his early years he sought
The sweetest Muse to celebrate his fame:
Witness his "Melancholy's plaintive strains,
His ruin'd abby, moss-grown piles,
His darksome pines, his cavern'd cliffs,
And cold Siberia's unrejoicing wilds,
Where pines the banish'd Lord."

[The four last lines are from the above beautiful Poem.]

Even Envy must acknowledge, that from a boy of sixteen, it must be an extraordinary effort of fancy, expression, and versification, to produce such a Poem. Very striking marks must be perceived of a strong and uncommon genius; and of a mind at that early age stored with poetical images and similitudes, and with

Such sights as youthful Poets dream
On Summer's eve, by haunted stream.

And Mr. Warton was hardly nineteen, when he wrote his incomparable Poem, "The Triumph of Isis," which is as often admired, as named. It is a most manly, spirited, and correct performance, and abundantly stored with imagery and elegance; it may be numbered among those felicities which cannot be produced alone by labour and wit, but must arise successfully in some hour propitious to poetry. He has also given us specimens of various composition; witness his admirable panegyric on Oxford, and his "Newmarket," a Satire, with others of the same cast: and others of a more serious turn are excellent also; as his fine verses to Sir Joshua Reynolds, on the Window at New College, Oxford; his admirable Ode to Suicide; and many others; particularly a very fine one on the Approach of Summer, and an excellent copy of verses on the late King's death, addressed to Mr. Pitt (the Lord Chatham), beginning with "So stream the sorrows that embalm the brave." See the last edition of Mr. W.'s Poems.

In all it will be found, that his mind was full of poetical and beautiful images. The Encoenia, and public Collection of Verses of the University of Oxford upon their Majesties' Marriage, and the Birth of the Prince of Wales, and other loyal subjects, were never in such esteem, either for elegy or congratulation, as when Mr. Warton contributed to them; and I remember at that time, it was natural to turn chiefly to his performances in the above work.

His Latin Poems are written with much classic purity, elegance, and simplicity.


As a Prose-writer, whoever will examine Mr. Warton's style, will find that he is entitled to a place amongst the purest and most correct writers of the English language. His periods are full and easy; his stile familiar, but never coarse; on grave subjects not ostentatious; on light occasions not trifling. He has not harshness of diction: his fancy was stored with such a variety of images, as well as cogency of argument, that it cannot be said he was unprovided with matter, or that his fancy languished in penury of ideas: witness his excellent Essay on the "Faery Queen" of Spenser, and his Edition of "Milton's Poems, with Notes, critical, explanatory, and other Illustrations." But Mr. Warton's Chef-d'Oeuvre in prose was his "History of English Poetry from the Close of the Eleventh, to the Commencement of the Eighteenth Century; to which is prefixed, Two Dissertation on the Origin of Romantic Fiction in Europe, and a Dissertation on the Gesta Romanorum."

But as (at present) I will not farther encroach on the limits of your valuable Miscellany, I will reserve for another opportunity an account of the above Work, and of Mr. Warton's other Works in prose; which you will be so good to insert as occasion offers, and which will oblige many of your constant readers.

Feb. 17, 1796.

The fame which Mr. Warton's History of English Poetry acquired, will remain an immortal monument of his industry, the correctness of his judgment, and the penetration of his understanding. It is a work of much ingenuity and labour, and exhibits great selection of matter, splendor of illustration, and strength of powers. We have to regret that his lamented death deprived us of the fourth volume of this valuable work, which we have heard was in great forwardness; as was also his intended History of Gothic Architecture; both of which, it is now feared, are lost to the world. His other prose publications will be mentioned in the list of his writings.

Mr. Warton's attachment to Oxford was great; he was even unwilling to leave it, though but for a short time.

Whene'er to distant scenes his road he bent,
Oft on his way, back to its tow'rs he sent
A parting look, and saw with aching eyes
Its lessening turrets melt into the skies.
Ah! still those turrets rise, those rivers roll—
But he, their guardian — friend,
Is lost in death. Lo! Bathurst's fane along,
Scene of his life, and subject of his song,
His honour'd relics, rest.

Indeed he seldom left Oxford, except on an annual visit to his worthy and learned brother, Dr. Warton, then Master of Winchester College; whose literary acquirements and goodness of heart were so similar to his own. To see the "two learned Brothers" together, as Dr. Johnson called them (with whom they were intimately acquainted), was as interesting as pleasing to behold.

No more auspicious to a Brother's charge,
Shall Winton great him — Oxford now no more
Rejoice at his return: — wont to give
To all, who ask'd his aid.

In those annual visits to his worthy brother, I cannot forbear mentioning the following instance of the pleasure Mr. Warton had in advancing and in cherishing rising genius, and in encouraging the performance of the young scholars at Winchester College. His arrival was always a matter of joy to the young members of that society; and it was a delightful sight to see such a scholar and philosopher as Mr. Warton familiarly and kindly conversing with the whole surrounding groupe (which the writer of this unequal Tribute to his Memory has had the happiness of seeing), who used to flock round him; — one shewing his exercise, another asking his opinion of a task; whilst all eagerly wished for his approbation; who was ever as willing as gentle in correcting any literary errors on which his young friends thought fit to consult him. But,

No more observant of each budding shoot
Of youthful fancy, shall his presence cheer
Each anxious youth. To ev'ry nutur'd root
Of genius, his benign regard how dear!
So meek, it bent indulgent e'en to me;
All Wykeham's sons confest its genial force.
O, Warton, if in heart I bear not thee,
My pulse be lost, its feelings, and its course!

My heart it bounded, when he smiling laid
Light on my auburn curls his plausive hand;
"There is some spirit in those lines," he said,
"That's not ill turn'd — this not inaptly scann'd."
[Author's note: These lines are from an elegant poem on the Death of Mr. Warton; written by the ingenious Mr. Duncan — bred at Winchester College.]

Though Mr. Warton was an Academic in the strictest sense of the word, and was much attached to his College, where (as has been observed) he had resided the greatest part of his life, even 45 years, yet he had contracted no sourness of temper; no spice of pedantry; no itch of disputation (so common in men who in such a situation acquire particular habits); no assuming manner of dictating to others, which are faults (very excusable) many worthy men are insensibly led into who have lived for a great number of years in a College; — but in my worthy friend you saw nothing of this: his conversation was pleasant and instructive, without the least tincture of pride or pedantry. His manner was gentle, mild and unassuming, yet persuasive from the strength of what he uttered. Some lines in an Eulogy on his particular friend Sir Joshua Reynolds, might with equal propriety be applied to him also—

Yet were his manners so benignly mild,
Simplicity might own him for her child.

His abilities were covered with great modesty, which only doubled the talents that were seen, and gave credit and esteem to all that were concealed. The abundance of his own mind (a mind so fully stored as his) left him little need of foreign aids from the conversation of others. Before strangers he was often reserved, but when he became familiar, he was in a high degree cheerful and entertaining. Alas!

His attic flash of merriment no more,
Enrich'd with learning, with good-sense refin'd,
To festive glee shall elegance restore,
Or pour instruction in th' attentive mind.

He was easy of access; but had a diffidence in his first advances to strangers; and had that delicacy in his nature which made him abhor forcing himself on the conversation or company of others: yet no man was more unreserved among his intimates; no man enjoyed more than he did the delights of social friendship, or could more enliven by his wit and never-failing good-humour, the chearful circle of his convivial friends, than himself.

Mr. Warton enjoyed through life a long and uninterrupted state of health, owing, in great measure, to his using much exercise; in which he persevered with such resolution, as to elude, for a great number of years, any illness, till within a few weeks of his lamented death. Walking was his favourite exercise, and contemplating the lovely views surrounding Oxford his greatest pleasure. After a short absence, or on his returning from his annual visits to his worthy brother, with what delight has he first surveyed the lofty towers of his favourite spot!

Its fretted pinnacles, its fanes sublime,
Its towers, that wear the mossy vest of Time!
At once the pride of Learning and defense;
Its cloisters pale, that length'ning to the sight,
To contemplation, step by step, invite;
Its high arch'd walks, where oft the whispers clear
Of harps unseen have swept the Poet's ear;
Its temples dim, where pious duty pays
Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise;
With all a father's fondness, bids you hail!
Hail! Oxford! Hail!
[Author's note: These fine lines are from Mr. Warton's beautiful Poem, "The Triuimph of Isis"]

Mr. Warton's taste for the beauties of Nature was great: often have I had the happiness of attending him in his evening walks: but the beauty of the surrounding scenes was not the only pleasure his good mind enjoyed, for often in those delightful rambles have I seen him engaged in discourse with an old crippled soldier, a little ragged beggar-boy, or an aged veteran reduced to rags and penury. It was delightful to see such a man as Mr. W. listening to their long tale of distress with that most patient goodness, and the utmost attention, as he looked on their misery "as sacred," and would gratify them beyond their utmost expectation by his generous bounty; without hurting their feelings by that cold and common advice of "sending them to their parish;" and wounding them (without intending to relieve their wants) by a series of cruel and impertinent questions. He would often also condescend to lay aside the scholar and philosopher, and the man of wit, to play with and to amuse little children. His benevolence to the brute creation was as remarkable as it was amiable.

The Banks of Isis and of Cherwell were often the scenes of his contemplation as well as the subject of his song:

Delightful Isis! parent stream!
How oft by Fancy's fairy dream,
In pensive thought thy Bard has stray'd!
How oft along thy mazy shore,
Where slowly wave thy willows hoar,
His steps hath trac'd thy winding way,
Or wand'ring near thy meadow'd side,
Beheld thy dimpled waters glide, &c.

But now—
In vain, alas! thy Naiads fair
No more shall on thy green banks lie,
In vain shall tear their watry hair,
Or to thy moaning murmurs sigh.

How often would he in his evening rambles turn to survey the rich, the picturesque views with which his beloved University is surrounded—

The low roof'd fane's embosom'd spire,
The cot that smoak'd with evening fire;

the Green, untrodden bank; the elm-circled farm; the ruin'd abbey's moss-grown pile; the pathless copse! He would linger to the last faint rays of the setting sun — till pensive twilight! — to listen to the distant sheep-bell, or the stroke of the woodman; till

On each moss-wove border damp,
The glow-worm hands his fairy lamp.

All were subjects of delight; not the most unfrequented wood or valley escaped his notice.

Ah mourn, thou lov'd retreats! no more
Shall classic steps thy scenes explore:
Who now shall climb their brows to view
The length of landscape, ever new?
Who now shall indolently stray
Through the deep copse's tangled way?
While own'd by no poetic eye,
Thy pensive evenings shade the sky;
For, lo! thy Bard, who rapture found
In ev'ry rural sight or sound,
Whose genius warm, and judgment chaste,
No charm of genuine nature past,
Who peopled all thy vocal bowers
With shadowy shapes and airy powers,
Is now no more.
[Author's note: These lines are from a fine Ode of Mr. Warton's. See his Poems, p. 75.]

As we have at large treated of Mr. Warton's excellence, both of head and heart, we may like (as Mr. Addison says) to know something of the person of a favourite author. My friend was in his youth eminently handsome; and even in the latter part of his life (when he grew large) was remarkably well-looking: His countenance was calm and placid, the index of his serene mind; his eyes were quick and penetrating, and you saw at once that expression which indicates strong sense and discernment of mind, as well as much sensibility of heart. With great mildness and gentleness he had also much manly dignity, a dignity (not pride) which resulted from his elevated mind; and he had a dignified modesty about him difficult to describe. Benevolence was the characteristic of his soul, and appeared to influence all his demeanour: the lines of that benevolence, goodness, and mildness, were deeply impressed on his countenance; and so perfectly were they imprinted, that the stamp held to the last hour of his life.

An excellent portrait of Mr. Warton (a remarkable likeness), by Sir Joshua Reynolds, is in the possession of Dr. Warton, from which very fine picture has been scraped a Mezzotinto by C. Hodges, 1786.

This small and inadequate Tribute to the Memory of so good a man and profound a scholar, is paid by one who sincerely loved his virtues, and who will ever cherish his memory with the high esteem he so justly deserved.

Farewell, blest shade! — "For many a care beguiled
By the sweet magic of thy soothing lay,
For many a raptur'd thought and vision wild
To thee this strain of gratitude I pay.
[Author's note: Mr. Warton to his friend Mr. Gray.]

Your obliging insertion of what was sent relative to Mr. WARTON, induces me, according to my promise, to add a List of his Works, which I believe is correct, and which when perfectly convenient for you to insert in your valuable Miscellany, will much oblige,
Your humble servant,
I. H.
April 21, 1796.

Mr. WARTON'S writings in prose are:

1. The History of English Poetry, from the Close of the Eleventh to the Commencement of the Eighteenth Century. To which are prefixed, Two Dissertations, one On the Origin of Romantic Fiction in Europe; and a second on the Introduction of Learning into England: and a third Dissertation on the Gesta Romanorum. The first volume appeared in 1774, the second in 1778, and the third in 1781. We are deprived of the fourth volume by the lamented death of the Author, as also of his History of Gothic Architecture.

2. Observations on the Faerie Queen of Spenser, 2 vols, which were published soon after Mr. W. was elected Poetry Professor in the University of Oxford, and were enlarged and corrected in 1762.

3. An Edition of Milton's Poems on several Occasions, English, Italian, and Latin; with Translations, viz. Lycidas, L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Arcades, Comus, Odes, Sonnets, Miscellanies, English Psalms, Elegiarum Liber, Sylvanus Liber, with Notes Critical and Explanatory, and other Illustrations.

4. The Life and Literary Remains of Ralph Bathurst M.D. Dean of Wells, and President of Trinity College, Oxford. 8vo. 1764.

5. A Description of the City, College, and Cathedral of Winchester.

6. The Life and Literary Remains of Sir Thomas Pope, Founder of Trinity College, Oxford. Published 1772.

7. A Companion to the Guide, and a Guide to the Companion; being a complete Supplement to all the Accounts of Oxford hitherto published; and an admirable Burlesque of the Oxford Guides and Companions. 1760.

8. History of Kiddington Parish (to the Rectory of which Mr. W. was presented by the Earl of Litchfield), is an admirable Specimen of Parochial History, and makes one regret that the Author had no opportunity of executing more of such a plan. Printed in 1781.

9. Enquiry, into the Authenticity of the Poems attributed to Thomas Rowley; which carries conviction to every unprejudiced mind. 1782.

10. Many excellent Notes to the Variorum Edition of Shakespear, 1786.

11. Several Papers in the valuable periodical work of the Connoisseur, if we are not misinformed; and we believe, also, he contributed to the entertaining papers called The World, and to Dr. Johnson's Idler.

From the best authority (his own words) we can say Mr. Warton wrote several papers for the Adventurer, which unfortunately were too late for insertion, the work being just published.

Mr. Warton's Poems are:
1. The Triumph of Isis, an Elegy. Written in the year 1749.
2. Elegy on the Death of the late Frederick Prince of Wales.
3. Inscription in a Hermitage at Ansley Hall, in Warwickshire.
4. Monody, written near Stratford-upon-Avon.
5. On the Death of King George the Second.
6. On the Marriage of the King. 1761.
7. On the Birth of the Prince of Wales. Written after the Installation at Windsor, in the same year, 1762.
8. Verses on Sir Joshua Reynolds' painted Window at New College, Oxford.

1. To Sleep.
2. The Hamlet, written in Whichwood Forest.
3. Written at Vale Royal Abbey, in Cheshire.
4. The First of April.
5. Sent to Mr. Upton, on his Edition of the Faerie Queen.
6. The Suicide.
7. Sent to a Friend on his leaving a favourite Village in Hampshire.
8. The Complaint of Cherwell, one of the Rivers at Oxford.
9. The Crusade.
10. The Grave of King Arthur.

1. Written at Winslade, Hampshire.
2. On Bathing.
3. Written in a blank Leaf of Dugdale's Monasticon.
4. Written at Stonehenge.
5. Written after seeing Wilton-House.
6. To Mr. Gray.
7. On Hascomb Hill.
8. On King Arthur's Round Table at Winchester.
9. To the River Lodon.

Verses inscribed on a beautiful Grotto near the Water.
The Pleasures of Melancholy. Written at 16 Years of Age.
Newmarket. A Satire.
A Panegyric on Oxford Ale.
The Castle Barber's Soliloquy. Written in the late War.
The Oxford Newsman's Verses, for the Year 1760.
For the Year 1767.
For the Year 1768.
For the Year 1770.
For the Year 1771.
The Phaeton and the One-horse Chair.
Morning, an Ode. Written at 16 Years of Age.
Ode to a Grizzle Wig, by a Gentleman who had just left off his Bob.
Epistle from Thomas Hearne, Antiquary, to the Author of the Companion to the Oxford Guide.
Inscription over a clear and calm Spring in Blenheim Gardens.
Job, Chapter XXXIX.
The Progress of Discontent. Written at the early Age of 16.
Prologue for the old Play-house at Winchester.
A Pastoral, in the Manner of Spenser, from Theocritus, Idyll, XX.
A fine Ode on the Approach of Summer.
Translation of the Idylliums of Theocritus.
Ode for Music, as performed at the Theatre in Oxford on the Second of July 1751. Being the Anniversary appointed by the late Lord Crewe, Bishop of Durham, for the Commemoration of Benefactors to the University.
Ode for the New Year 1786, the Author being then Poet Laureat.
Ode for his Majesty's Birth-day, June 4, 1786.
Ode for the New Year 1787.
Ode for his Majesty's Birth-day, June 4 1787.
Ode for the New Year 1788.
Ode for his Majesty's Birth-day, June 4 1788.

Mr. Warton's Latin Poems are written with a true classical purity, elegance, and simplicity, which are as follows:
1. Mons Catharinae prope Wintoniam.
2. Scalleum Coll. SS. Trin. Oxon. Instauratum, Suppetias praesertim conferente Rad. Bathurst, ejusdem Coll. Praes. et Ecclesiae Wellensis Decano.
3. Ex Euripides Andromache, V. 102.
4. Meleagri Epitaphium in Uxorem, ex Anthologia.
5. Antipatri, ex. Anthologia.
6. Callimachi in Crethida.
7. Antipatri, ex MS Dodleiana Anthol. Cephal.
8. Votum Pani Factum Anthol. L. 7.
9. In Tumulum Archilochi.
10. Antipatri, ex Anthologia.
11. Antipatri Thessalonicensis, Epigr.
12. Ex Anthologia, Lib. 4. Cap. 33.
13. Nymph. Font.
14. Sub Imagine Panis Rudi Lapide.
15. Homeri Hymnus ad Pana.
16. Ex Poemate de Voluptatibus Facultatis Imaginatricis.
17. Ex Poemate de Ratione Salutis Conservandae.
18. Pindare Pythic I. Hieroni Aetnaeo Syracuso Curru vict.
19. In Horto Script.
20. Epitaphium.
21. Apud Hortum Jucundissimum Wintoniae.