present one of his annual poems to her Majesty, had the honour of kissing her hand, and met with the most gracious reception.
Such was the performance[1], and such its reception; a reception, which, though by no means unkind, was yet not in the highest degree generous: to chain down the genius of a writer to an annual panegytick, fhewed in the Queen too much desire of hearing her own praises, and a greater regard to herself than to him on whom her bounty was conferred. It was a kind of avaricious generosity, which flattery was rather purchased, than genius rewarded.
Mrs. Oldfield had formerly given him the same allowance with much more heroick intention: she had no other view than to enable him to prosecute his studies, and to set himself above the want of assistance, and was contented with doing good without stipulating for encomiums.
Mr. Savage, however, was not at liberty to make exceptions, but was ravished with the
- ↑ This poem is inserted in the late Collection.
