These are the works of Mr. Creech:  A man of such parts and learning, according to the accounts of all who have written of him, that, had he not by the last act of his life effaced the merit of his labours, he would have been an ornament as well to the clerical profession, as his country in general.  He well understood the ancients, had an unusual penetration in discovering their beauties, and it appears by his own translation of Lucretius, how elegantly he could cloath them in an English attire.  His judgment was solid; he was perfectly acquainted with the rules of criticism, and he had from nature an extraordinary genius.  However, he certainly over-rated his importance, or at lead his friends deceived him, when they set him up as a rival to Dryden! but if he was inferior to that great man in judgment, and genius, there were few of the same age to whom he needed yield the palm.  Had he been content to be reckoned only the second, instead of the first genius of the times, he might have lived happy, and died regreted and reverenced, but like Caesar of old, who would rather be the lord of a little village, than the second man in Rome, his own ambition overwhelmed him.

We shall present the reader with a few lines from the second Book of Lucretius, as a specimen of our author’s versification, by which it will be found how much he fell short of Dryden in point of harmony, though he seems to have been equal to any other poet, who preceded Dryden, in that particular.

  ’Tis pleasant, when the seas are rough, to stand,
  And view another’s danger, safe at land: 
  Not ’cause he’s troubled, but ’tis sweet to see
  Those cares and fears, from which our selves are free. 
  ’Tis also pleasant to behold from far
  How troops engage, secure ourselves from war. 
  But above all, ’tis pleasantest to get
  The top of high philosophy, and sit
  On the calm, peaceful, flourishing head of it: 
  Whence we may view, deep, wondrous deep below,
  How poor mistaken mortals wand’ring go,
  Seeking the path to happiness:  some aim
  At learning, wit, nobility, or fame: 
  Others with cares and dangers vex each hour
  To reach the top of wealth, and sov’reign pow’r: 
  Blind wretched man! in what dark paths of strife
  We walk this little journey of our life! 
  While frugal nature seeks for only ease;
  A body free from pains, free from disease;
  A mind from cares and jealousies at peace. 
  And little too is needful to maintain
  The body sound in health, and free from pain: 
  Not delicates, but such as may supply
  Contented nature’s thrifty luxury: 
  She asks no more.  What tho’ no boys of gold
  Adorn the walls, and sprightly tapers hold,
  Whose beauteous rays, scatt’ring the gawdy light,
  Might grace the feast, and revels of the night: 
  What tho’ no gold adorns; no music’s sound
  With double sweetness from the roofs rebound;