―45―

For the Literary Magazine.

thomson's seasons.

WE say of any scheme or project
which is futile and nugatory, and
which we are inclined to stigmatize
with our contempt, that it will end

in smoke. Ex luci dare fumum
was, I suppose, proverbial with the
Romans. What then shall we think
of the felicity or dignity of the fol-
lowing passage of Thomson, in its
close?

	Heavens! what a goodly prospect     spreads around,
	Of hills, and dales, and woods, and     lawns, and spires,
	And glittering towns, and gilded streams,     till all
	The stretching landscape into smoke de- cays.

This is surely a very unlucky-
image. The landscape does not li-
terally vanish into smoke. The ho-
rizon which bounds a wide prospect-
sometimes is dim and obscured by
vapour; but to call this vapour
smoke is neither literally true, nor
metaphorically dignified.