He is no disciple of the gaunt and famished school of
simplicity. He uses the ornaments which must always distinguish true
poetry from prose; and when he adopts colloquial plainness, it is with
the utmost skill to avoid a vulgar humility. There is more of this
sustained simplicity, of this chaste economy and choice of words, in
Goldsmith than in any other modern poet, or, perhaps, than would be
attainable or desirable as a standard for every writer of rhyme. In
extensive narrative poems, such a style would be too difficult. There is
a noble propriety even in the careless strength of great poems, as in
the roughness of castle walls; and, generally speaking, where there is a
long course of story, or observation of life to be pursued, such
excursite touches as those of Goldsmith would be too costly materials
for sustaining it. His whole manner has a still depth of feeling and
reflection, which gives back the image of nature unruffled and minutely.
His chaste pathos makes him an insulating moralist, and throws a charm
of Claude-like softness over his descriptions of homely objects, that
would seem only fit to be the subjects of Dutch painting; but his quiet
enthusiasm leads the affections to humble things without a vulgar
association, and he inspires us with a fondness to trace the simplest
recollections of Auburn, till we count the furniture of its ale-house,
and listen to the varnished clock that clicked behind the door.
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