There are none of the cold particles in it, the hardness and self-ends, which render vanity and egotism hateful.
He seems to be praising another person, under the mask of self: or rather, we feel that it was indifferent to him where he found the virtue which he celebrates; whether another's bosom or his own were its chosen receptacle.

His poems are full, and this in particular is one downright confession, of a generous self-seeking.

But by self he sometimes means a great deal,--his friends, his principles, his country, the human race.
Whoever expects to find in the satirical pieces of this writer any of those peculiarities which pleased him in the satires of Dryden or Pope, will be grievously disappointed.

Here are no high-finished characters, no nice traits of individual nature, few or no personalities.

The game run down is coarse general vice, or folly as it appears in classes.