ture has gifted with the rare taste for discriminating in poetry. But the mere readers of verse must one day come in, and then Madoc will assume his real place, at the feet of Milton."[1] The mere readers of verse, being in no wise responsible for Milton's position in literature, have so far put no one at his feet; nor have they even verified Sir Walter's judgment when, writing again to Southey, he says with astonishing candor, "I am not such an ass as not to know that you are my better in poetry, though I have had, probably but for a time, the tide of popularity in my favor." The same spirit of self-depreciation, rare enough to be attractive, made him write to Joanna Baillie that, after reading some of her songs, he had thrust by his own in despair.
But if Sir Walter was an uncertain critic, his views on criticism were marked by sound and kindly discretion, and his patience under attack was the result of an evenly balanced mind, conscious of its own strength, yet too
- ↑ Compare Charles Lamb's letter to Coleridge: "On the whole I expect Southey one day to rival Milton; I already deem him equal to Cowper, and superior to all living poets besides."
