What sublimity! what levity! what boldness! what tenderness! what majesty! what trifling! what variety! what _tediousness_!--for tedious to a strange degree, it must be confessed that whole passages are, particularly the earlier stanzas of the fourth canto.

I know no man of such general powers of intellect as Brougham, yet I think _him_ insufferably tedious; and I fancy the reason to be that he has such _facility_ of expression that he is never recalled to a _selection_ of his thoughts.

A more costive orator would be obliged to choose, and a man of his talents could not fail to choose the best; but the power of uttering all and everything which passes across his mind, tempts him to say all.

He goes on without thought--I should rather say, without pause.

His speeches are poor from their richness, and dull from their infinite variety.