It is not often the gods give us so opulent an originality.

From another point of view it was unfortunate.

If he had begun by imitating a little; if he had studied the excellences of his predecessors more; if he had curbed his individuality sufficiently to mark, learn and inwardly digest the noble style of others in natural description, and in all other matters of poetry as well, his work would have been much better than it is; his original excellences would have found fitter and finer expression; his faults would have been enfeebled instead of being developed; his style would have been more concise on one side, less abrupt on another, and we should not have been wrongly disturbed by obscurities of diction and angularities of expression.

He would have reached more continuously the splendid level he often attained.

This is plentifully illustrated by his work on external nature, but less perhaps than by his work on humanity.
The first natural description he published is in the beginning of _Pauline_: Thou wilt remember one warm morn when winter Crept aged from the earth, and spring's first breath Blew soft from the moist hills; the blackthorn boughs, So dark in the bare wood, when glistening In the sunshine were white with coming buds, Like the bright side of a sorrow, and the banks Had violets opening from sleep like eyes.
That is fairly good; he describes what he has seen; but it might have been better.