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CRE A TI O N.
(A Sacred Poem.)
Non ego cuncta meis amplecti versibus opto;
VIRGIL. Georg. II. 42.
147. f. 118.
The following stanzas commencing, so to speak, non ab initio, sed antè initium, present rather an excursive flight of imagination, than anything real or tangible, until, emerging from Chaos, the poem finds terra firma in the first chapter of Genesis.
In sending this his first book of “Creation” to its account, with all its acknowledged imperfections on its head, accompanied by the dangerous novelty of (as far as he knows,) an untried stanza, the author feels himself called upon to apologize in some sort for his apparent presumption, and to propitiate, if possible, the stickler for standard metrical rules against all rhythmical innovations :--and this he conceives he cannot better do than in the words of Lord Byron.
“I am aware," writes that illustrious Poet, “that Johnson has said, after some hesitation, that he could not prevail upon himself to wish that Milton had been a rhymer.
“ The opinion of that truly great man, whom it is