Lectures on Poetry

The following Lectures, being frequently referred to by the Author of them in the Preface and Notes to his Translation of Virgil, were thought proper to be communicated to the World in English, that both Works might speak the same Language as well as Sentiment, and address themselves to the same Sett of Readers. Whatever Reasons have been given for translating Virgil, and writing an English Comment on him, may be urged in behalf of these English Lectures, which as they are an Illustration of Poetry in general, so are they of Virgil in particular.

The Notes to this Edition were chiefly added as it went through the Press: In which though I sometimes differ from my ingenious Author, yet I hope not with greater Freedom than he has taken with others, and will pardon in me. I am well aware how easy it is to let some Mistakes slip in the Heat of Composition: And when these had once pass'd the Press, the Author, I suppose, was not very sollicitous to re-examine minutely the subsequent Editions; satisfied with the Approbation he had received from that learned Body before whom his Lectures were first delivered. An Honour which I shall never wish to see diminish'd by any thing I can say, or any one else: And shall now therefore with much greater Pleasure take this Opportunity of repeating the following Testimony of them from Mr. Felton's Preface to his Dissertation on Reading the Classics p. xxi, &c.

What a polite Critic may do, if he pleases, and in how different an Aspect Criticism appears, when formed by Men of Parts and Fire, we may see in the three Volumes of Dr. Trapp's Prӕlectiones Poeticӕ.A Work that cannot be enough commended, whether we consider the Curiousness of his Observations, the Justness of his Remarks, the Truth and Importance of his Rules, the Aptness and Beauty of his Examples, Force and Elegance of his Style, and the Penetration of his Wit and Judgment: A Piece in such Perfection of Beauty, that he gives the Rules with the same Spirit we find in the Examples; and maketh those Dissertations, which in heavy, formal Hands, would have looked crabbed, dull, and dry, shine in all the Graces, that Life, and Ease, and Vigour can adorn them with. We see how entertaining the severest Criticisms are in a Poet's Hand, and what Life and Spirit he can give to the dryest Part of his Subject, while he prescribes the Rules and fixes the Laws of Poetic Diction, weigheth the Importance of Words, and considers the several Ways of Expression peculiar to the Poets. And if Men of such Learning and such Parts would undertake this Province, I cannot help repeating it, we should see more and more into the Propriety, Strength, and Compass, and all the hidden Beauties of the Greek and Latin Tongues.

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I have no Occasion to detain the Reader with a Preface in Praise of Poetry: What I thought proper to say on that Head, he will find comprised in the following Introductory Oration. I shall only just in a few Words lay before him the Purport of the following Sheets.

Being elected into the Professorship by that venerable Body the Convocation at Oxford, I thought it incumbent on me to discharge my Duty in it according to the best of my Abilities. The better to do so, I endeavour in the following Lectures to keep such a Medium in examining the Sentiments of the several Writers on Poetry that tho' I pay much Deference to their Authority, yet I don't slavishly adhere to their Decrees. For Books are to be consider'd as Helps to Learning, not Fetters to it; and it is just, in these sort of Studies especially, that every Man, after he has weigh'd the Opinion of others should be at Liberty to follow his own.

This Method I take to be the most entertaining and the most useful both to the Writer and the Reader. No one, I am persuaded, will suspect I pursued it for the sake of Ease; since it is much harder to digest than to transcribe. And, indeed, what can be a more arduous Task, than to unfold the Nature of Poetry in general, and its different Species; to explain the various Elegances of Style, and its no less various Defects; to explore the secret Turns of the Mind; to weigh the minutest Momenta of Wit; to separate in things of so great Delicacy, Truth from Falshood; to shew by what Springs they delight or ravish their Readers or Hearers?

I thought proper just to say so much of the Difficulty of the present Work, not out of a Desire of gaining Praise, but Pardon; that if I have fallen into any Errors, I may meet with some Favour from the Learned. For to their Judgment I submit myself, and the Fortunes of this Book; always ready to receive more full Instruction, and to retract, not to defend the Mistakes of it.

But arduous and difficult as these Enquiries are, yet not therefore unpleasant; For it is not to be thought that all Discourses which deliver Rules and Precepts are dry and unentertaining; some are no less full of Delight than Advantage. Of which sort is the Subject before us, elegant in its Nature, and agreeable to the Taste of the most Polite; who are never better pleased than when they scrutinise into the Laws of just Writing and true Thought, and have the choicest Examples of each laid before them. The Mind is charmed with tracing out its own Operations; and while on so refined a Subject we read Authors of the same Sentiments with ourselves, we observe with secret Complacence, similar Ideas arise in our Minds; or if we dissent from a good Writer, we are ready to join in his Praise tho' not in his Opinion: For such an one, tho' he misses the Truth, yet deviates with Ingenuity, and is elegant even in his Mistakes.

The Difficulties then we are speaking of, are such that they don't deter the Admirers of Polite Literature, but invite them: Such as are not attended with Uncouthness of Thought or Asperity of Style; but are like the Labours of Lovers, who, to gain the Good-will of the Fair, go through the most arduous Tasks and solicite Dangers.

If the Reader will observe in the following Sheets some Errors slipt, some Defects either in Thought or Expression, he will at worst have no Reason to complain that I have too importunately loaded him. He will rather wonder perhaps, on the other Hand, how I durst pretend to treat of such Variety of Matter in so few Pages: An Accusation, to which I know not how to give a satisfactory Answer, and which I own I have often been ready to draw up against myself. I can only declare that this has been owing either to Chance, or to the Nature of my Subject, or to my own Inabilities, not to Indolence, for I have omitted nothing which after the most mature Deliberation I thought proper to be taken Notice of. In other respects I own I studied Brevity as much as possible, rejecting many things that offer'd, which I judged unentertaining, superfluous, and such as would give the Reader rather Pain than Pleasure; many likewise, which tho' proper Observations in themselves, yet had been abundantly taken Notice of by others; whose Writings I had no Inclination to make so free with, as to purloin.

And this, I hope, will not be imputed to me as an Imperfection: For Brevity as such (to use the Language of the Schoolmen) and considered in its own Nature, is by no means a Fault; but rather an Excellence, if we keep clear of those Faults that often adhere to it. If we do Justice to our Subject and are at the same time perspicuous, we cannot be too concise; especially in those Works where we propose to delight the Reader, as well as profit him.

How far this has been effected in the following Sheets, must be left entirely to his Judgment. I am sure my Endeavour has been not to be wanting to both these Ends, and I might with more Ease to myself have wrote a larger Book. To treat of Elegance in an inelegant Manner is a mere Absurdity; and Conciseness is generally an Attendant of Elegance. Nothing I am sure can afford more Pleasure to the Understanding than an accurate Enquiry into the Subjects here treated of: Nothing greater Difficulty to a Writer, who is to act the Critic and Philosopher, rather than the Historian. Even Metaphysics do not more try the Mind than Poetry, when we search into the latent Sources of its Beauties and Allurements. But the Pleasure in the one is much greater than in the other: This has its Thorns; but such as grow on the Rose, tender and yielding, that heighten at once its Sweetness and its Beauty.

One Thing I would desire the Reader to observe; that under each Head of Poetry, I have either wholly omitted every thing that is Historical, or but lightly touch'd upon it: Not became I think by any Means that Part of Learning contemptible; but partly because I find it more suitable to my Nature (such as it is) to search into Things than Facts; and partly because others, whose Erudition I very much reverence, and to whom I always refer my Reader, have already in this Respect, deserv'd well of the Learned. However, in one or two of my Dissertations I could not come at the Nature of the Subject I treated of without enquiring into the History of it: as in those upon the Origin of Poetry in general, upon Epigram, and Satire. But even in them to enter into a long Detail of Circumstances fetch'd from the Writings of the Ancients, wou'd be doing Nothing but what had been done before; which is the Thing I have throughout endeavour'd to avoid. My Aim has been not to be tedious; and for fear I should be so now, I shall add no more; but leave my Book to stand or fall by the Opinion of the Learned.

CONTENTS

The Oration, on entering into the Professorship, or First Lecture.	Page 1
LECTURE II, III.
Of the Nature and Origin of Poetry in General	13
Poetry defin'd	ibid.
Vossius's Definition rejected	ibid.
Prov'd against Vossius, and Mons. Dacier,
that Poetry does not imitate Actions only	14,15
That Poetry is an Art, properly so call'd	15
That Poetry consists in Imitation and Illustration	15,16
A Comparison between Poetry and Painting	16,17
The Meaning and Original of the Word Ποιητες	18,19
Prov'd, against Mons. Dacier, that fictitious Narrations,
written in Prose, are not properly Poems	20,21
That Fiction is not essential to Poetry	21
That Poetry does not differ from History in the Diction only	22
The Difference between Poesy, Poetry, and a Poem	ibid.
A Comparison between Poetry and Music	23
That the End of Poetry is twofold, to instruct, and to please	24
That Instruction is the principal End of Poetry	24,25
What the secret Sources of Pleasure are, which all receive from Poetry	25,26
That Poetry took its Rise from Love	26,27
Owes its first Increase and Progress to Religion	27
Who were the first Authors of Verses	28
The Rise of Poetry fetch'd farther back:
Shewn that the immediate Causes of it are
founded in that Love of Imitation and
Harmony which is natural to all; and that
Vossius has assign'd wrong ones	29
The Reason why Mankind is so much given to Imitation and Harmony	30
That Prose is more ancient than Poetry	30,31
Whether, in Poetry, Nature or Industry is of greater Force	31
The Meaning of that Saying, Poeta nascitur; non fit	32
Of the Inspiration attributed to Poets	ibid.
Explanation of poetical Fables rejected	33
The Difference between Poetry and Oratory	34
LECTURE IV, V, VI, VII.
Of the Style of Poetry.
What Style is; and in what its Beauty consists	37
The Style of Poetry so singular, that there
are many Expressions elegant in the
Writings of the Poets, which in Prose would be
contrary to the Rules of Grammar	ibid.
Examples cited	38,39,40,41
Other Expressions, which tho' not entirely poetical,
yet are much more suitable to Verse, than Prose	42
A beautiful Poem may, however, consist of those which
are common both to Prose and Metre	43
That it is the Property of Poetry to express the
whole of a Thing sometimes by some one Adjunct	ibid.
Sometimes by a Kind of Paraphrase, and little Description	44
To use Specials for Generals	45
That Poetry impresses upon the Mind the
Images of Things stronger than Prose	46,47
That Descriptions are almost peculiar to Poetry	47
That figurative Expressions are more suitable
to poetic Writings than Prose; and why	51
Of the Use and Abuse of Metaphors	51,52
Of Books that teach the Elements of Rhetoric	53
One and the same Thing express'd different Ways,
sometimes well, sometimes ill	54
A Comparison in this Particular, and some others
between Virgil and Ovid	ibid.
Repetition of the same Words, to be avoided
as much as conveniently may be	60
Great Regard to be had to the Sound and Order of Words	61
A Mistake in those who think Ovid, Claudian,and
others, excel Virgil in Versification	62
Of Verses that express the Thing they describe by
their Sound and Numbers	64,65,66
Of the Verses in the Æneid that break off short	67
An unwarrantable Liberty in modern Writers to imitate
Virgil, in this Particular	68
Or too boldly to violate the Laws of Quantity	68,69
Of the true and elegant Use of Epithets	69
Divided into two Sorts	ibid.
Of those that add to their Substantives new
and distinct Ideas	69,70
Of those that come nearer to the general
Nature of their Substantives, and are us'd
for Illustration and Explanation,
tho' they don't convey any new Idea to it	71
The Gradus ad Parnassum, and other Books of that
Nature, prejudicial to young Tyro's in Poetry	73
Other Kinds of Epithets	74
Of superfluous and redundant Epithets	76
A Mistake of those, on the other Hand, who think
that very few Epithets should be us'd	78
When a Thing is to be strongly express'd, and with great
Energy, by all Means to abstain from Epithets	80
All Adjectives and Participles not Epithets	81
An Enumeration of different Sorts of Style	82
Of the Sublime, the Turgid, and the Low Style	82-90
Of the Sarcastical and Severe	91
Of the Florid Style	92
Other Sorts of Style	ibid.
The Style to be varied; and not always preserve one even Tenor	93
Style of Comedy not poetical	94
This Question carried on with Respect to Comedies writ in the English Tongue	95
And to those in the French	ibid.
The Connexion between Beauty of Expression, and Beauty of Thought	96
LECTURE VIII, IX, X, XI.
Of the Beauty of Thought; or of Elegance And Sublimity	101
The Difficulty of treating of this Subject	ibid.
Definition of Wit	102
The Foundation of true Wit	ibid.
The Difference between a Thought simply consider'd,
and an ingenious one	102
The Difference between Falshood and Fiction	103
Specimens of false or spurious Wit	104
Thoughts partly true, partly false	105
The Difference between true and false Wit	106
Some Verses have gain'd Esteem, not from Reason,
or true Merit, but merely from popular Fame	107
The Opinion of the famous Boileau, and a Passage translated from him	108
That some Thoughts are true, tho' Poetical Fiction be added to them	109
Care always to be taken, that some Truth be the Basis of the Thought	112
That fine Thoughts and Words ought not to superabound	113
In the right Disposal of them much Art required	113
Beauty of Thought divided into two Kinds, the Elegant and the Sublime	115
How these differ	ibid.
Of a happy Genius	ibid,
Of the Impetus or Poetic Fire	116
Of moving the Passions	118
Under this Head the Fourth Book of Virgil's Æneis considered	120
Of Images	125-129
Of Antitheta	129
Of Transitions	132-135
Of Excursions of another Kind	135
Of Comparisons	136
That pretty Thoughts ill agree with the Passions	139
Of Delicate Thoughts	140,141
Of Strong Thoughts	142
That Severity and Gravity not inconsistent with Wit	ibid.
Of Sentences	ibid.
Of echoing Turns	143
Of Thoughts that seem to contradict each other	144,145
Of Æquivocations and Playing upon Words	145,146
Of Sublimity	147
The Substance of that Idea of Sublimity, which Longinus describes	ibid.
A Mistake of those who think that Sublimity is more especially,
if not only, suited to Exultation and Triumph	149
Examples of Sublimity, exciting Terror and Pity	ibid.
A Stricture upon Poetic Licence	151
LECTURE XII.
Of Epigram, and other lighter Species of Poetry	153
The History and Origin of Epigram	ibid.
No need of dividing Epigrams into so many distinct sorts as some do	154
Epigrams some Satirical	ibid.
Panegyrical	155
Upon the Subject of Love	ibid.
Upon any other Subject	155,156
Religious Epigrams	156,157
And sublime	157
The Nature of true Epigram in general	158
Some Poems consisting of a few Verses, in Martial
and others, not Epigrams properly so called	158
Of the Lent Verses made at Oxford, call'd Carmina Quadragesimalia	159
Of Elogies, Inscriptions, and Epitaphs	ibid.
Of Emblems or Symbols	ibid.
That Epigrams should be short	160
Of the Metre of Epigram	161
Of Hendecasyllables	ibid.
Whether the Ancients or the Moderns have deserv'd
greater Praise in this little Kind of Poems	ibid.
They are beautiful, and not without their Difficulty	161,162
LECTURE XIII.
Of Elegy
Few have treated of this Species of Poetry	163
The Nature of it, and the Etymology of the Name	164
Melancholy Subjects first and principally suited to Elegy	ibid.
Afterwards by Analogy others of a very different Kind	164,165
Death and Love the chief Subjects of Elegy	165
Tho' scarce any other sort of Matter repugnant to it	ibid.
But Circumstances of Joy with less Propriety agreeable to it	ibid.
Many Epistles are Elegies	166
Of Ovid's Heroine Epistles;
and the Difference between them and Elegies commonly so called	ibid.
What the chief Property of Elegies	167,168
Very few of our modern Poems, which are styled Elegies,
deserve our Notice	169
Of the Elegiac Metre	169
Among the Ancients we have scarce any Elegiac Poets but Latin	169,170
Of the Elegiac Writers, Ovid, Tibullus, and Propertius	170
Catullus not so properly reckon'd in the Number	ibid.
Of Gallus a Writer of Elegies	170,171
LECTURE XIV.
Of Pastorals
None of the Ancients have treated of this Species of Poem	172
The Original of Pastoral	172-174
The peculiar Nature of it	174
No Difference between Pastorals and Bucolics but the Name	ibid.
Virgil undeservedly censured, for mixing Philosophy
and the Sublime with Pastoral	ibid.
His Fourth and Sixth Eclogues true Pastorals	175
As also his Tenth	176
Eclogue and Idyllium according to their Etymology,
include nothing of Bucolic or Pastoral in their Meaning	177
These Poems, the more simple they are, the truer Pastorals	ibid.
They contain an elegant sort of Simplicity	178
More of the Nature and Turn of this sort of Poem	179
Certain vulgar Mistakes concerning this Poem noted	ibid.
The various Subjects of Pastoral	180
Whence the Delight arises that is peculiar to this Kind of Poem	181,182
Of Primitive Simplicity, and a Country Life	ibid.
A Comparison between the Works of Nature and Art	ibid.
Between Theocritus and Virgil	183
Pastoral less suitable to the present Times	186
LECTURE XV.
Of Didactic or Præceptive Poetry
Very few Writings now remaining upon this Subject	187
That Poetry is the best adapted to give Rules	ibid.
Four Kinds of Didactic Poems	189
Of those which relate to Morality	ibid.
——to Natural Philosophy	189
The Harmony between Poetry and Natural Philosophy	189
Lucretius the Prince of Poets in this Kind of Writing	190
What Things commendable in him, and what to be blamed	190,191
A Comparison between him and Virgil	192
That Poetic Fiction and the Explanation of Nature may be elegantly united	192
That this Kind of Writing may at this Day receive Improvements
from the Advantages of Experimental Philosophy	193
Of Poems which relate to the Business or Pleasures of Life	ibid.
Of Virgil's Georgics	ibid.
A Comparison between Hesiod and Virgil	194
Of the Various Methods of fetching in Ornaments to the Georgics	194-197
Few Writers in this Way among the Moderns	198
Two mention'd; Rapin of Gardens, and a Countryman of ours	199
Of Country Diversions, Hunting, &c. and of Gratius's Cygnegeticon	199
Of Oppian	ibid.
Of Rules concerning the Art of Poetry	199
A Didactic Poem may be writ upon any Subject	200
Some Subjects recommended for it hitherto untouch'd	200,201
LECTURE XVI.
Of Lyric Poetry
The Original and Antiquity of Odes	203
The Peculiar Nature of them	ibid.
Of Digressions and Transitions in Lyric Poetry	204,205
Notwithstanding this Liberty, it is the most difficult,
as it is the most elegant Kind of Writing	206
Two Kinds of Digressions	207
This more suitable to Music than other Poetry	209
Of the Music of the Antients	210
Of the various Subjects of Odes	211
Sublimity and Poetic Rage more suited to them than any other Poems	212
Treat of serious and moral Subjects	213
Whence the Pleasure arises that attends Lyric Poetry	214,215
Of Pindar	215
Of Anacreon	ibid.
Of Horace	ibid.
The Ancients excell the Moderns in this Kind of Poetry	ibid.
Of Casimire	215
Of Hannes	216
Of modern Pindarics	216,217
Of Songs	ibid.
LECTURE XVII, XVIII.
Of Satire
How the Word is spelt: Of the History and Origin of Satire	218
Difference between the Satyric Poetry of the Greeks and the Roman Satire	219
The Etymology of the Word	ibid.
Ennius a Writer of Satires	222
Pacuvius	ibid.
Lucilius	ibid.
Varro	223
That Satires not only expose Vices, but give Encomiums of Virtue	223
Prov'd against Mons. Dacier, that the Difference
between the Satyric Poetry of the Greeks,
and the Roman Satire, is not so great as he makes it.	225
Two Sorts of Satire: The Humourous, like that of Horace; and the Serious, like Juvenal's	227
This last the more excellent of the two	ibid.
Vossius judges wrong of the Nature and Difference of Satire	228
Horace's rightly entitled Discourses rather than Satires	232
All Juvenal's are properly Satires, except the last	ibid.
Horace is not too acrimonious in his Satires	233
Some Satires are Dialogues; some Epistles	ibid.
Some of Horace's Satires are Epistles, and some of his Epistles are Satires	ibid.
The different Nature of Juvenal's	ibid.
Persius more a Philosopher, than a Satirist	235-6
The Moderns not much inferior to the Ancients in this Kind of Writing	236
LECTURE XIX. &c.
Of the Drama in General
What Poetry is in the most proper Sense of the Word	237
Applicable to the Drama and Epic, beyond all other sorts
of Writing; but more especially to the Drama	237-8
The Difference between an Epic and Dramatic Poem	238
In what Respects this is preferable to that; and so vice versa	ibid.
Aristotle and Horace just touch upon other Species
of Poetry, and dwell only upon the Drama	ibid.
Many of the latter Times have treated fully of it	238
What proposed to be treated of in this Discourse	239
Two Species of the Drama; Comedy and Tragedy	ibid.
Tragic-Comedy rejected; and for what Reasons	239
Of a new Species of the Drama, called Opera's
The Ridiculousness of them	240
A Short History of the ancient Drama,
taken from Vossius's Institutiones Poeticæ	243
The Apparatus of the ancient Drama pass'd by	244
The Absurdity of the Mask among the Ancients	245
A Slight Stricture of the Soccus and Buskin	246
The Theatrical Music of the Ancients pass'd by likewise	ibid.
A Definition of the Drama in general	246
That the Action ought to be one	247
But that it may rightly sometimes seem to be two Actions, &c.	ibid.
That Kind of Drama the best however, where the Action is entirely one	ibid.
The Difference between the Fable, the Action, and Machinery of the Drama	248
The Manners, different Natures, Characters, Passions, and Diction in the Drama	248
The Subject Matter of the Drama called the Fable, tho' it is founded on true History	250
Some Poems are rather Dramatical Histories than Drama's	ibid.
Our Countryman Shakespear commended	ibid.
Various Foundations of a Drama.
1 - True History.
2 - Some private Action.
3 - A noted common Story.
4 - A fable, or Fiction less known.
5 - The mere Invention of the Poet's Brain	250,251
The last of these the best, and why	252
Three Unities in the Drama; viz. of Place, Time, and Action	253
Of Action before spoke of	ibid.
Of Time	ibid.
Of Place	254
The Necessity of observing these and other Rules	256
To these Unities a Fourth may be added, that of Characters	256
Of things partly related, and partly acted on the Stage; and the
great Difference between the Ancients and the Moderns in this Respect	257-259
Of Persons adventitious or superfluous, and brought only once upon the Stage	259
The Reason ought to appear why each Person comes in or goes out	260
Of the Division of the Drama into Acts; of Acts into Scenes	261
Of broken and disjointed Scenes	261
Of Soliloquies	262
Some Rules of the coming in, and going out
of the Number of the Actors, superfluous	262
Of the Number of the Actors	263
Vossius lays down wrong Rules of the Parts of Action to be divided to each Act	265
Of the Protasis, Epitasis and Catastrophe	ibid.
Vossius gives to these an improper Division in the Drama	266
The Catastrophe ill defined by Scaliger or Evanthius	268
The Unfolding of the Plot ought to be surprising and yet easy	268
The preposterous Artifice of some, who in the very
Title of their Play, discover the Catastrophe of it	268,269
To these three Parts a fourth (viz. the Catastasis) improperly added	269
Of Incidents	ibid.
Intire Scenes not to be added for Ornament sake only	269,270
Love the usual, but not the best Subject for a Drama	270
The Chorus of the Antients	271
Another Place reserv'd for a Comparison between the ancient and modern Dramatic Writers	ibid.
The last Clause of the Definition consider'd, containing the End of Drama	272
LECTURE XXIII, &c.
Of Comedy
The Etymology of the Word Comedy	273
Not very clear, whence this Kind of Poem arose	273,274
Three Species of Comedy; the Old, the Middle, and the New	275
Of the Old Comedy	ibid.
Of the Middle, and the New	277,278
A Definition of Comedy, such as it ought to be	279
Division of Comedy into the Moral and Ridiculous	ibid.
Scaliger's Definition of Comedy	280
Mirth essential to Comedy	ibid.
And Happiness in the Conclusion of it	281
Upon these Heads Scaliger and Vossius inconsistent with themselves	ibid.
Vossius's Definition of Comedy	ibid.
Persons and Things of a private Character, suitable to Comedy;
neither of them ought to be great, or concerned in the State	282
Nor yet only such as are of low Life	ibid.
Two sorts of Comedy; the Sublime, and the Low	ibid.
The Virtues, Vices, and Follies of Mankind,
the Subject of Comedy; but more especially the Follies	283
Proved against Mons. Dacier that the Γελοιος, or What is Ridiculous,
is not the only Subject of Comedy, tho' it is the principal; and that
Crimes of a more heinous Nature are not to be exposed in it	284
That not only Joy, but all the Passions are concerned in Comedy	288
But in a quite different Manner from what they are represented in Tragedy	289
The Difficulty of writing true Ridicule	290
Whether Comic Writers may be allow'd to draw the Characters beyond Truth	291
Of the Prologue and Epilogue	292
The Chorus, Mimus, and Cantica of the Ancients	ibid.
That to write Comedy is a difficult Task, notwithstanding it imitates common Life	293
Of the Diction of Comedy	294
Of Aristophanes and Menander; Plautus and Terence	ibid.
A Comparison between the Ancients and the Moderns	296
Between the French and our own Writers	298
Whether the English Comedies writ in Prose are properly Poems	298
Of the French Comedies writ in Rhyme and Heroic Verse	298
Whence the Pleasure that arises from Comedy	299
Why more are delighted with Comedy than Tragedy	300
LECTURE XVI, &c.
Of Tragedy
The Etymology of the Word	301
Aristotle's Definition proposed and examined	302
And Vossius's	303
A third offered made up of both	304
The several Parts of the Definition	ibid.
Every thing in Tragedy ought to be great and sublime	ibid.
Of the Subject of Tragedy	ibid.
Of the Morals, the Thought and Diction of it	ibid.
The higher Species of Satire of Affinity with Tragedy	307,308
The part of Tragedy to teach Virtue, even the most Heroic, no less than to expose Vice	308
Tragedy form'd for Sublimity	ibid.
How reconcileable to Nature that Things so elevated and composed with
so much Art, should be represented to make Part of Common Conversation	308
What has been said of the Magnificence of this Part of the Drama not
equally applicable to all Tragedies; since there are two Species
of it, the one sublime, the other more humble	309
Another Distinction between Tragedies; and that it is not
essential to them to end fortunately	310
Those, whose Catastrophe is unfortunate the more Tragical:
But such as have a fortunate Conclusion require more Art,
and afford more Improvement	314
Which Characters best adapted to move Pity, which Terror, and which both	315
What species of Tragedy are of all others the most Tragical	316
Of Dramatic Justice	ibid.
The End of Tragedy	317
How Tragedy purges the Passions; and even by putting them in Motion	319,320
What the Source of Delight which Tragedy
affords, or of that Pleasure which flows from Melancholy	323-326
A Comparison between the Ancients and Moderns
Between the French and our Countrymen	326
LECTURE XXIX, &c.
Of the Epic or Heroic Poem
The Dignity and Excellence of this Kind of Poem	328
Little remains now to be said of it; several Circumstances relating to it
having fallen in with the other Matter I have already discoursed of	329
What Bossu has done upon this Subject	329
Definition of an Epic or Heroic Poem	330
The Parts of this Definition	ibid.
The Method laid down of this Dissertation	331
In what Respects Tragedy and Epic differ and agree	331,332
Of the Action, Place, and Time of the Epic Poem	332,333
What the Action of the Poem in the strictest
or most proper Sense, and from whence it commences	333
The Duration of the Action of the Iliad, Odyssey, and the Æneis	ibid.
Proved against Bossu and Mons. Dacier,
that an Epic Poem ought not to imitate every Action,
but only the great Actions of great Personages	334
Of the Forming a Heroe	336
The Meaning of Aristotle, who asserts that the Fable in Epic ought to be Dramatical	ibid.
The Event in an Epic Poem ought always to end fortunately; and for what Reasons	336
Of the Marvelous	338
The Mistake of some, who confound the Marvelous with the Improbable	338-340
Essential to be founded upon History partly true	340
Of the Machines	341
Of the Versification of Heroic Poems	ibid.
A Translation of one Chapter of Bossu explaining the
Nature and Origin of the Epic Poem	ibid.
The Difference between the Eloquence of the Ancients and the Moderns	ibid.
What the first Use of Fables	342
Why Poetry, in Aristotle's Judgment, is more
grave and Philosophical than History	343-346
Epic more suited to the Manners and Habits than the Passions	346
Yet Epic not without Passion	347
Especially Joy and Admiration	ibid.
Of the Ancients and Moderns	348
Of Homer and Virgil	ibid.
Of Historical Poems	ibid.
Of Lucan	349
Of Silius Italicus	ibid.
Of Statius	350
Of Tasso	351
Of Spencer	ibid.
Of Milton	ibid.
Of too servile an Imitation of Homer and Virgil	ibid.
Some New Subject must be attempted	352
The Conclusion.	354

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N. B. The several Passages cited from Virgil are printed in English from Dr. Trapp's Version. The other Poetical Translations without a Name, the Editor is to be accountable for, tho' he wishes he had as good a Title to the Excellence of two or three of them as he has to the Imperfections of the rest.

The Notes added to this English Edition are distinguish'd thus * or thus †; whereas those that were before in the Latin are referr'd to by Letters a, b, c, etc.

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Pag. 3.	L. 31.	for our World r. their Orbits.
4.	L.  3.	for this House r. that House.
19.	L. antep.	for consistent only with r. confined only to.
216.	L. 16.	dele Countryman.
248.	L. 30.	for adsunt r. adflent. And L. 32. for ipse r. ipsi.
317.	L. 16.	dele the

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LECTURES ON
POETRY, &c.

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The ORATION upon entering into the Professorship, or First Lecture.

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Altho', Gentlemen, I am sensible of the Obligation you have laid upon me, by making Choice of me to fill this Office, esteeming it an Honour to receive Commands, much more Favours from so venerable a Body; yet I must own myself under some Concern, when I consider that I enter into a Province unattempted by others, and wherein I have no Footsteps to guide me. For so it has happen'd, that tho' all other Sciences the World can boast of, have had their Instructors and Professors in this most flourishing University; Poetry alone, neglected, as it were, and overlook'd, has hitherto wanted Schools for her Reception. 'Twas much, indeed, that in the very Seat of the Muses that Art shou'd have found none, which the Muses esteem above all others, and claim as their peculiar Property: With You it has always been its Choice to live, and with You it always has liv'd; but has wanted, however, a fix'd Habitation, and (if I may speak more poetically) has wander'd here among other Sciences, as Delos, Apollo's native Place, did among the Ægean Islands, till that excellent Gentleman, whose Munificence I now commemorate, like another Apollo, fix'd its Situation, and honour'd it with an Establishment.

But to omit these imaginary Flights, and to represent Things without any Colouring, What Thanks are due to him, who has render'd himself a perpetual Mæcenas, not only to Poets, but to Poetry itself; who has bestow'd Honours upon that Art, which adds the greatest to whatever is meritorious; who has prescribed it Laws, and secured to it a Patrimony? But still without a Patrimony it had almost been, if the reverend and worthy Trustees[1] of the Muses Legacy had not to the Patron's Benevolence contributed no small Assistance of their own, and deserved little less Praise by receding from their Due, than the other, by his original Settlement. One of them[2], especially, who, as he is himself no small Part of our University, and of that venerable Assembly, and has an Intercourse with both, makes use of it to promote Good-will and Friendship mutually between them. How near had the Poetical Revenues been lost, if they had not been in the Hands of Men therefore the most zealous for Learning and the University, because they were adorned with the Insignia of each? If these good Men reject our Praises, at least let them permit us to return our Thanks. To the Living, then, we gratefully pay the Tribute of Gratitude; to the Deceased, whose Gift they augmented, that of Glory.

He well knew that Poetry did not boast so much of her learned Poverty (noted even to a Proverb) as utterly to reject all Acquisitions. He knew, moreover, that it was no less capable of Rules than other Arts, and no less deserving of them; that it proceeded upon certain Principles, which were founded upon Truth and right Reason; that our Master Aristotle, who has accurately treated of the other Sciences, and whose Authority we follow in them all, had bestowed likewise some of his Pains on this, and has left upon no Subject greater Monuments, either of Extent of Genius, or of Care and Application.

They therefore lie under a great Mistake, that think Poetry suited only to the Theatre, and would have it banished from the Schools, as of too unbounded a Nature to submit to the Regulation of Precept. Rage, indeed, is its Property; but a Rage altogether divine; not deviating from Reason, but rendering it more ornamental and sublime. It may be said, likewise, to be a Fire; not like our consuming ones, but like those of the celestial Orbs above, that have not only the Qualities of Heat and Brightness, but maintaining one uniform Course, are carried round their Orbits at once with equal Swiftness and Regularity.

We see, then, it is no Absurdity to have Rules prescribed to this Art. And what could have been thought of, of so delicate and refined a Nature, as the Office of prescribing them? What more worthy of an University to accept, or a Courtier to appoint? A Courtier, I say, for in the City he was an Ornament to the Court; as in the University he was to that House, which has always had the Credit of abounding, and we still have the Comfort of seeing it abound with Gentlemen of the most distinguish'd Wit, Birth, and good Manners. I am sure no Gift could have been more becoming a Friend of the Muses to bestow, and he was not only an Admirer, but an Intimate of them; not only a Lover of their Art, but a skilful Practitioner in it; nor could any one so properly make Poetry his Heir, as a Poet.

He knew, by Experience, that no Pleasure was equal to the reading ancient Poets, except that of imitating them. Happy they, that can partake of both; but the former ought to be the Employment of all, that desire to have any Taste for Letters, or Politeness. Some there are, however, to whom these Studies are disagreeable, and who endeavour to make them so to others: This is not owing to any Fault in Poetry, but in themselves. Formed as they are of coarse Materials, they have naturally a Disposition either slow and frozen, callous and unpolite, or harsh and morose; so, forsooth, whilst they would appear grave, as they are, they maliciously hate, or superciliously contemn these Exercises, as the great Disturbers of their Peace. They condemn what they know nothing of; and despise the Pleasure they want a Capacity to enjoy.

But if at least they pay any Deference to Antiquity (and with these Men nothing uses to be more sacred, looking upon every Thing with the greater Veneration, the more antient it is) they ought on this Account to allow the Art we are speaking of its due Honours. For not to urge that Poetry is coeval with the World itself, and that the Creator may be said in working up and finishing his beautiful Poem of the Universe, to have performed the Part of a Poet, no less than of a Geometrician[3]; it is well known, that those Books have had the greatest Sanction from Time, that have been dictated by God, or writ by Poets. Those, as it is fit, have the Precedence: But these follow at no very great Distance.

Nay, why should we make this Difference between the sacred Writers and Poets, since the sacred Writers were most of them Poets; on both Accounts deservedly called Vates (a Word expressing either Character) and acted by no feigned Inspiration? That the Devils then, heretofore, usurping the Title of Gods, gave out their Oracles in Verse, was owing wholly to their imitating, in this, as well as in other Particulars, the true God, that so they might gain Honour and Reverence from their Votaries. If in the Poems of Job, and David, and the other sacred Authors, we observe the inexpressible Sublimity of their Words and Matter; their elegant, and more than human Descriptions; the happy Boldness of their Metaphors; their spiritual Ardour breathing Heaven, and winging the Souls of their Readers up to it, triumphing, as it were, by a royal Authority, over the narrow Rules of mortal Writers, it is impossible but we must in Transport own, that nothing is wanting in them, that might be expected from the Strength of Poetry heighten'd by the Energy of Inspiration.

If this, then, be the Case, who would not wonder at the Ignorance or Baseness of those, who rashly reproach an Art with Impiety, which has the Honour of being not only pleasing to God, but taught and dictated by him. 'Tis true, Poetry, as well as Religion, has, by Length of Time, been corrupted with Fables; but this is no more to be imputed to the one than the other; and we can only from hence complain, that by the Depravity of Mankind the best of Things are most liable to Corruption.

Nor is it any more owing to the Art itself, that it is sometimes polluted by obscene Writers: To them alone the Infamy redounds: The Chastity of Poetry is violated like a Virgin's, and tho' it seems to be the Instrument of doing an Injury to Virtue, yet Virtue is not more a Sufferer than she is. She acts in her proper Sphere, when, with her native Purity, she discovers the true Attractives of Virtue, nor disguises Vice with false ones; when she inflames the Mind of Man with the Love of Goodness, recounts the Works of the Almighty, and sets forth all his Praises. Undoubtedly, as the divine and sister Sciences, Poetry and Music, owe their Origin to Heaven; they love to be employed about heavenly Things; thither they tend by their native Force, and, like Fire, seek those blessed Abodes from whence they first descended.

Since Poetry, then, is so venerable, both for its Antiquity, and its Religion; they are no less to blame, who look upon it as a trifling Amusement, an Exercise for Boys only, or young Men. The Injustice of this Calumny is plain from hence, that a good Proficient in this kind of Writing must not only excel in Wit, Elegance, and Brightness; but must be endowed with the maturest Judgment, and furnished with all sorts of Literature. He must, in Truth, turn over the Annals of Time, and Monuments of History; he must trace the Situation of Countries, understand the different Manners of Nations; the Actions and Passions of Mankind in general, must explore the inmost Recesses of the Mind, and secret Avenues to them; survey the whole System of the Universe; in short, make himself Master of all Nature. Who cannot but see and admire the Learning of Homer and Horace; in Virgil especially, his almost universal Extent of Knowledge in both sorts of Philosophy, in History, Geography, and the chief of all Science, Mathematicks? In Lucretius we see how perfectly Natural Philosophy and Poetry agree; and how properly these Schools of ours are appropriated to both: Nor have the severest Philosophers Reason to complain, that the Company of the one reflects the least Dishonour on the other.

This I am sure they have not, if we duly consider the Nature of this admirable Art; from whence it will appear to contain whatever is great or beautiful in Prose, and besides to be distinguished by its own proper Ornaments; which it abundantly displays, whilst it pleases our Ears, and ravishes our Souls with its Harmony; whilst it strongly imprints in our Minds the Images of the Things it represents; by a becoming Fiction sets off Truth to Advantage, and renders it more amiable; and by a decent Liberty keeps those Laws it seems to violate.

Another Reason of its Contempt, at least of the Abatement of its Esteem, is, that there are such Numbers of Writers, who give Offence to Men of Learning, by affecting the Title of Poets. This is a Fact we are very sensible of, and lament: I know not how it is, there's no sort of Learning to which more apply themselves, or fewer attain. Innumerable Pretenders there are, who, in spite of Genius and Nature, are daily troubling the World with their wretched Performances; who write Verse often, that scarce attempt to write any Thing else, and venture upon the most difficult of all Studies, that are unfit for any. This profane Mob of Poetasters are deservedly to be condemned, that arrogate to themselves the Credit of a Title, that no ways belongs to them; and which is due only to those who are of elevated Genius, and Souls divine. But so far is this from fixing any true Mark of Infamy on our Art, that it ought to redound to its Credit. For in this its native Excellence appears, that it is a Mistress, to whom all by natural Impulse, as it were, pay their Addresses, tho' there are so few, upon whom she bestows her Favours. Thus Wit, Wisdom, and Religion, have each those amiable Colours, in which all Mankind endeavour to appear.

Nor need we wonder it meets with such Esteem, since it excels all other Sciences, by mixing so agreeably Pleasure with Advantage. For it is found experimentally true, that by reading the ancient Poets, but especially by imitating them, the Mind is polish'd, enlivened, and enlarged; is enriched with a Stock of various Erudition, as well sacred as profane; with such Plenty of lofty Ideas, and lively Expressions, as is no small Addition to the Eloquence of even Prose itself. This no one will deny, that pays any Deference to Cicero's Opinion or Authority; who ingenuously tells us he owes no small Assistance to the Poets, runs out largely in their Praises, and seems to give them the first Place among the Learned. "We are told, says he[4], by Men of the greatestLearning, that the Science of all other Things depends upon Precepts and Art; but a Poet on Nature alone; that he is formed by the Force of Genius, and inspired, as it were, with somewhat of Divinity." This Topick he defends, and expatiates upon, with such Warmth, that Oratory seems never to have shone out brighter, or to have been more pleased with its own Force, than when it was employed in the Praise of Poetry.

But farther, it ought by all Means to be encouraged, because it raises the Mind to Virtue and Honour, by delivering down the Examples of great Men to Immortality. It not only celebrates Heroes, but makes them; and by lively Copies produces new Originals. What, in short, is it else, but the utmost Effort of the Mind of Man, that tries all its Nerves, while it infuses into it a Tincture of universal Learning temper'd with the greatest Sweetness. For its Votaries it affects with no small Pleasure, which its infinite Variety abundantly supplies. Oratory, like a River with all its Pomp of Water, confines its Waves within its own Banks; but Poetry, like the Ocean, diffuses itself, by a Variety of Channels, into Rivers, Fountains, and the remotest Springs. What can be more delightful, than to take a Survey of Things, Places, and Persons; what more elegant, than to see them represented in beautiful Pictures? Who is not charm'd with the humorous Turns of Epigram, the Softness of Elegy, the bantering Wit of one sort of Satire, the Anger of the other, the Keenness and Poignancy of both? And yet still more the Ode affects us with its daring Colours, its lofty Conceptions, its Choice of Expression, its agreeable Variety of Numbers, and (what is the distinguishing Character of the Lyrics) that Luxuriancy of Thought, conducted with the severest Judgment, by which it now and then expatiates into new Matter, connects Things it seem'd to separate, and falls by Chance, as it were, into its first Subject. Who is there that does not with Pleasure survey an Epitome of the World in the Dramatic Poets? The Life, Humours, and Customs of Mankind represented in Comedy; in Tragedy the tumultuous Passions of the Great, the Turns of Fortune and wonderful Catastrophes, the Punishment of Villainy and Rewards of Virtue, and sometimes the Misfortunes of good Men? Who, I say, is not affected with Pleasure, whether he laughs or weeps with them? For such is the Force of Poetry, that it makes us pleased with our Tears, and from Sorrow extorts Satisfaction. But far beyond all this, is the Epic Poem, that farthest Extent of the human Soul, the utmost Bounds of Study, and the Pillars, beyond which the Labours of the Mind can never pass. So abundant is it, that, besides its own peculiar Excellence, than which nothing can be greater, it comprehends within its Sphere all other Kinds of Poetry whatever; and is in this Art what the Organ is in Music, which with various Pipes, inflated with the same Breath, charms us not only with its own Harmony, but represents that of every other Instrument.

These are not Beauties only in Theory; we have Authors that have shone in each of these Branches of Poetry: Thus Martial pleases with his tart Facetiousness, Catullus with his sound Wit, tho' his Verse is sometimes a little harsh; Ovid, Tibullus, and Propertius, with their Ease and Fluency in both. The Man that does not admire the Boldness of Juvenal's Spirit, the Richness of his poetic Vein, and his fearless Rage in Satire; may he never love, may he never know the genteel and courtly Turns, the pleasant Sneers, the severe, and yet inviting Precepts of Virtue, the Remarks on common Life made with the greatest Penetration, Judgment, and Wisdom, with which the Satires of Horace, and especially his Epistles, are replete. In this kind of Writing, as we prefer him before all others; so in Lyric Poetry he stands not only first, but alone. With Regard to Comedy, if there were nothing remaining but what Terence has left us, viz. that Chasteness of Style, that never-failing Fund of Wit and Judgment, that Humour clear of vulgar Jests, those beautiful Images of Mankind and Nature, that exquisite Artifice in working up Plots, and unfolding them; we should ever have Reason to praise the Art and the Poet. If Tragedy has receiv'd but small Ornaments from the Latin Writers, as far as they have come to our Hands; by the Greeks that Loss has been abundantly compensated. Witness the Thunder and Vigour of Sophocles, the Grandeur and sententious Gravity of Euripides, the Art of both, with which they command the Affections of their Readers, and call forth Pity or Terror at Pleasure.

The Nature and Limits of this Discourse will not allow me even to touch upon the Characters of all the other Greek and Latin Writers that have excell'd in the several Species of Poetry. One, however, it would be unpardonable to omit, who as he is the greatest of all (not Homer himself excepted) may not improperly bring up the Rear of this shining Host, the immortal Virgil, I mean, beyond all Praises, in all Respects compleat. Who is not in Love with the plain and unaffected Beauty of his Eclogues, the finish'd and chaste Elegance of his Georgics, and in them the entertaining Descriptions with which they abound, with the Variety of their Expressions, the Usefulness of their Precepts in Husbandry, and their noble Excursions, upon every proper Occasion, into Subjects of a sublimer Nature? But the divine Æneid who can turn over without Transport, without being lost, as it were, in a happy Mixture of Joy and Wonder? Who can help being astonish'd at that Fire of Imagination temper'd with so cool a Judgment, such Strength united with so much Beauty? To nothing this Work can with Justice be compar'd, unless to that, whose Duration will have the same Period, the great Machine of the Universe. For where shall we find, in any human Composition, so exact a Harmony between the several Parts, and so much Beauty in each of them; such an infinite Fecundity of Matter, without the least Exuberance of Style, or Crowding of Incidents? It would be an endless Attempt to recount the different Images of Heroes, and other Personages that appear up and down in it, the Variety of Manners, the Conflict of Passions, almost every Object of the Imagination beautifully described, all Nature unfolded, the great Events, the unexpected Revolutions, the Incentives to Virtue; in the several Speeches the most finish'd Eloquence; in the Thoughts and Expressions the sublimest Majesty; in short, the most consummate Art, by which all these Things are brought into one uniform Piece?

After the mention of Virgil and those other great Names, Silence only should ensue; but that our Oration naturally addresses itself to him, to whose Indulgence this Liberty of speaking in the Praise of Virgil, and those other great Names, is owing; our most worthy Vice-chancellor[5], I mean, who has brought to Light this Poetic Legacy, which had been buried, as it were, for many Years in Oblivion, and has at length placed it upon a Foundation that will make it perpetual. Such Attainments, Sir, have you made in your Study of the publick Welfare! 'tis thus you make us sensible that none are so faithful and diligent Dispensers of others Bounty, as the Bountiful! I shall not enter into a Detail of the other Virtues, that make up your Character: My Business was to mention that only which relates to our present Function: Permit us, however, to wish you Length of Days in this World, that such Thanks may in Time be due to you, as may exceed the Power of Poetry itself to pay.

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Before we enter upon the different Branches of the Art we propose to treat of, it may not be improper to clear our Way, by giving, as the Schoolmen speak, a general Idea of it, and laying before you a comprehensive View of whatever is common to all its Parts. None, that I know of, has given a just Definition of it; not Aristotle himself, tho' a perfect Master in Definitions: And yet there's nothing in the Subject repugnant to one. To be short, then, Poetry seems in general, An Art of imitating or illustrating in metrical Numbers every Being in Nature, and every Object of the Imagination, for the Delight and Improvement of Mankind.

Vossius's Definition[6] (I speak it with humble Deference to so great a Man) to me is by no means satisfactory, who makes Poetry consist in being An Art of representing Actions in Metre. This Definition falls too short, and is not comprehensive enough of the Nature of the Thing defined. For I would ask, is it not the Business of Poetry to represent every Thing that is capable of being represented? And are Actions the only Things capable of being represented? This, indeed, is expresly asserted by Dacier, the French Interpreter of Aristotle: But to any one that considers the Passage, it will abundantly appear, that this Opinion cannot be drawn from Aristotle by a just Interpretation of him. That great Philosopher, and Prince of Critics, says, that Imitators imitate Actions. Now, can any one, without violating all the Rules of Reasoning this Philosopher has taught, conclude from hence that Actions alone are capable of being imitated? He indeed says, or rather the French Version is made to say, that All that imitate, imitate Actions; but in his own Original he says no such Thing; the Word All is added by the Interpreter: His Words are[7], μιμουνἱαι ὁι μιμουμενοι πραἱἱονἱαϛ, i. e. Imitators imitate Actions.

But if the Version were true, the Conclusion drawn from it would, however, be false. For All Imitators may imitate Actions, and yet possibly not Actions only. But there's no need of many Words to prove Aristotle's Authority unjustly alledged for this Proposition; since he tells us himself, a little before the Passage above cited[8], μιμουνἱαι και ηθη και παθη και πραξειϛ, i. e. they imitate Manners, Passions, and Actions. He thought therefore that not only Actions, but Manners and Affections, were capable of being imitated. It is certain, if by Imitation is meant that which impresses upon the Mind a true and genuine Representation of any Thing, it will be no less repugnant to common Sense than to Aristotle's, to affirm that nothing but Actions can be imitated. For, besides them, we see Passions, Things, Places, and Men are imitated, not only by Poets, but by Painters too. This Horace, the best Interpreter of Aristotle, sufficiently intimates, when he uses the Word imitari in the same Sense with describere, pingere, or sculpere:

Besides, Vossius's Definition is short in another Respect; as it makes the Object of Imitation too narrow, so it makes the Essence of Poetry consist solely in Imitation; whereas there are some Kinds of it that have little to do with Imitation, but much in Illustration; as we shall shew in the Sequel.

That Poetry is an Art, is sufficiently plain, and we have no Occasion to use many Words to prove it. It observes certain Laws and Rules, is brought to the Test of right Reason, and, lastly, it aims at some particular End. I cannot but wonder, therefore, why those that fix'd the Number of the Liberal Arts, as they are commonly reckon'd up, should have allowed no Place for Poetry and Oratory among them. They were thought, perhaps, reducible partly to Rhetorick, and partly to Grammar. But this, I think, they are not, with any Propriety. For, not to observe that Poetry and Oratory are in their Merit too good, and in their Extent too great to be included in other Sciences, the Business of Rhetorick is wholly to polish the Style of both of them; and, by the Way, as it is now-a-days managed, tends more, perhaps, to the Detriment and Corruption, than the Credit and Honour of either; but is fully and professedly concerned in neither. As to Grammar, they can no more be reduced to that, than all other Sciences whatever; for to all Sciences Words, whether written or spoken, are subservient. Well, then, Vossius and all agree that Poetry is an Art, tho' that great Man has not sufficiently shewn the peculiar Business of it.

The Definition we have given above, seems to be full, and every Way compleat, inasmuch as it comprehends the whole Nature of Poetry, is applicable only to Poetry, and all the Species of it; for all of them are always concern'd, either in Imitation, or Illustration, or both at once. Between these two there is some Difference; for he that beautifully imitates any Thing, always illustrates it; but not on the contrary; the Rule does not hold vice versa. Those Things that relate to Science, and Discipline, such as the Ideas of the Mind, Virtues, Vices, Manners, and the like, are illustrated by being explained; but no one will say, that by being explained they are imitated. But, as I said, it is an undoubted Maxim, that all Kinds of Poetry are employed one or other of these Ways, or both. In Descriptions of whatever Kind, in moving the Passions, in Panegyric, in Satire, in Heroics, in Ethics, the Poet either imitates or illustrates something, or does both; unless, perhaps, we ought to except the Writers of those short Sentences, that are mere moral Sayings; such as Pythagoras, Phocyllides, and the like; who may be said, indeed, to write Verses, but not Poems: They want the Force, the Elegance, the Style, and peculiar Turn of Thought that discriminates Poets from other Writers. 'Tis plain, then, the Business of Poets is either Imitation or Illustration; and that, not only of Actions, but, as we presumed to lay down in our Definition, of every Being in Nature, or in the Imagination. The Object, then, of Poetry, must be enlarged, and those Bounds extended, that Vossius prescribed to it: For is there any Thing in the real or ideal World, not capable of being described or illustrated? any Thing which the capacious Stretch of Poetry will not comprehend?

And since it chiefly consists in Imitation, it may not be amiss, perhaps, to make a short Comparison between that and Painting. All Poetry will not admit of this Comparison, but such only as consists in Description; upon which whatever is in common between them, depends. Painting, as well as Poetry affects the Passions; That by Description alone, This by other adventitious Arts. I would here, however, particularly observe, that Poetry consists much more in Description, than is generally imagined. For, besides those longer and set Descriptions of Things, Places, and Persons, there are numberless others, unobserved by common Readers, contained in one Verse, sometimes in one Word, to which the whole Beauty of the Thought is owing; and which wonderfully affect us, for no other Reason but because they are Descriptions, that is, impress a lively Image of somewhat upon the Mind. To this it is, that metaphorical Expressions, when selected with Judgment, owe their Beauty, and their Elegance; every Metaphor being a short Description.

But to return to our Comparison between Painting and Poetry. They both agree, in representing to the Mind Images of Things, and ought both of them to be govern'd by Nature and Probability. So near is their Affinity, that by a very natural and common Metaphor, Poetry is said to paint Things, Painting to describe them. Both give us Draughts of the Body, as well as the Soul; but with this Difference, that the former is chiefly expressed by Painting, the latter by Poetry. It cannot be denied, but that the Lines of a Face are much more strongly distinguish'd by Light and Shade, than by any Colouring of Words, tho' ever so elegant, or well chosen: Add, moreover, that the Attitudes, the various Positions and Gestures of the Body, the confused Rout and Tumult of a Battle, the Gloominess or Brightness of a Landscape, the Prospect of a Building, and the like, are represented to much greater Perfection by Painters, than Poets; tho', in these Particulars, Description approaches nearer to Painting than in Portraitures. The Reason of these Advantages of the Painter's over the Poet's Art, is obvious; for as the Things represented are the Objects of the Senses, to the Senses Painting exhibits the Images of them, as well as to the Imagination, and that according to the exactest Rules of Optics and Proportion: Whereas the Poet can only apply to the inward Faculties of the Soul, by the fainter Helps of Words and Sound, of Memory and Recollection. In Verse, indeed, we find these Things wonderfully described, and every Way agreeably to Nature; and tho' it is impossible for Words to represent them to the Mind, as graphically as Colours do to the Eyes; yet perhaps less Genius is required in the one than in the other. But the inward Springs and Movements of the Soul, the Actions, Passions, Manners, the distinguishing Tempers and Natures of Men, are drawn with much more Accuracy by the Poet, than the Painter. The one can imitate only so much of the Passions, as appears in the outward Man, in his Countenance, and Gesture; the other fetches them from the inmost Recesses of the Heart, describes them as they lurk there, without Disguise, in all their genuine Conflicts. The Representation we see of these, even in Painting (as far as Colours can represent them) is exquisite, even to Admiration; but, upon the whole, after a fair Comparison between the two Arts, Poetry excels Painting as much as the Soul does the Body, that being best represented by the former, as this is by the latter.

Poetry, then, being a sort of Imitation, those that practise the Art are not called Ποιηἱαι, Makers[10], from creating; as if it was their peculiar Province to produce, out of nothing, new Matter for their Subject: So far is this from being true, that they propose always to copy Nature. But this Appellation is given them by way of Eminence, as their Thoughts are more exercised in Invention, and forming Ideas, than any other Writer's; as such Symmetry and Harmony is required in their Compositions; and such Artifice in their Fictions (for they not only adorn their Subject, but generally make it) and, lastly, such Management and Pains in working up the Machines of their Poem, and conducting the several Parts of it, so as to make them all conspire to one uniform Action. In this last Particular Poets remarkably excel other Writers, as all that are versed in them are sensible. But among those that are honoured with the Title of Poets, and are such, all have not an equal Claim to it. To the Epic and Dramatic Writers it is more peculiarly applicable; to the rest, only, as we term it, by Analogy. Their Business is Invention, as well as Disposition; the rest have little to do with the one, much less with the other. So that there are not only different Degrees of Poets, and subordinate Honours; but some who are called so only in an improper Sense: For who would mention Martial and Virgil under the same Predicament?

We said above, that Poetry consisted of metrical Numbers: This is a necessary Part of the Definition, as being the very Essence of Poetry, properly so called; and tho', as we observed, there may be Verses without a Poem, there can't be a Poem without Verses. I am obliged, therefore, once more to dissent from Monsieur Dacier; who, not, indeed, without the Authority of others, maintains[11], that those fabulous Narratives in Prose, of Lucian, Heliodorus, and the like, among the Ancients, and of many others among the Moderns, that are held in so great Esteem, in France, particularly, and Spain, are Poems. I readily own some of them are truly elegant, and give us ample Testimonies of the Authors Wit and Judgment; nay, and except their want of Verse, are very little different from Epic Poems. But if even Homer's Ilias, or Virgil's Æneis, were to be stript of their Metre, they would no longer be looked upon as Poems; if we may judge of the Nature of a Poem from the general Consent of Writers, who always take it for granted that Verse is an essential Property of it.

Those who are of the other Opinion, think they are supported by no less Authority than Aristotle's; who asserts τ' εποποιιαν to consist μονον τοιϛ ψιλοιϛλογοιϛ, η τοιϛμετροιϛ. The foremention'd learned Writer insists, that ψιλοιϛ λογοιϛ can signify nothing else but plain Prose; that therefore Aristotle admitted some sort of Epic Poem without Metre. Others, that take the contrary Side, endeavour to shew, that by ψιλοιϛ λογοιϛ is to be understood a poetical Discourse, not without Metre, but without Harmony and Rhythm; by which Aristotle meant Music, and Measures which they used to dance to. So that, according to these Interpreters, the Particle η is not disjunctive in this Place, but explanatory. They that would see the Arguments in Defence of this Exposition, may consult Vossius[12]. But if we grant our Opponents what they desire, viz. that Aristotle meant only Prose by ψιλοιϛ λογοιϛ, as indeed it is most probable he did; yet it will not follow that he reckoned such fictitious Narratives, as we are now speaking of, or indeed any kind of Prose whatever, to be a Species of Poetry. To make this plain, we must enquire into the genuine Sense of the other Word ἑποπιἱα. Here the French Interpreter supposes, without any Hesitation, that it signifies nothing else but an Epic Poem, or the Art of making it. But Vossius proves, to a Demonstration, that it must have a larger Sense, so as to include the Epic Poem, and that kind of Fable without Metre, which is the Subject of our present Debate. The Meaning, then, of Aristotle, is this, that the ἑποπιἱα is the Genus, one Species of which is the Epic Poem; the other, the Novel, or Fable in Prose. Upon this View, then, we see, that granting ψιλοιϛ λογοιϛ, in Aristotle, to denote only Prose; yet it can't from thence be concluded, that these fictitious Narratives, or any kind of Prose, can be brought under the Head of Poetry. To the Epopœia they truly belong, and to nothing else.

Metre, then, we'll conclude to be an essential Part of Poetry. Another Question arises, whether Fiction is likewise so. Some tell us, that no one should be entitled a Poet, but he that invents some Fable, and heightens it with the Decoration of Verse. To this Opinion I can by no means assent. The first Writers of Verses, no doubt, made them in Praise of somewhat that was real, and before them. For it is highly probable, that this Art, as most others, was in its Infancy employ'd about Things that were most obvious, and easy to the Learner. Now it is certainly more easy to describe a Subject that already exists, than to form a new one. Vossius[13] thinks, that Love was the first Occasion of Poetry. Which is not improbable, considering that this Affection is coeval with Mankind, is universal, and naturally productive of Poetry. True Love, then, or somewhat true, was the Poets first Theme; afterwards, by Length of Time, they rose to Things that were more difficult, and blended artful Devices and Truth together. So that Poetry was before Fiction; and even since they have been united, there have been many Poets, truly so called, who have had to do with Fiction. Those that exercise that Talent with Art, are Poets in a more peculiar Manner, and of a superior Genius. But if those only were to be honour'd with the Title, the Number of them would be very small. To all, therefore, it ought to extend, who, tho' they invent nothing, yet illustrate their Subject with Metre, animated with the Style and Spirit of Poetry.

I cannot, therefore, sufficiently wonder that the great Scaliger[14] should assert, there was no Difference between Poetry and History, except in the Diction. 'Tis certain he could not mean Poetry in general; for there are many Sorts of it, which are so totally different from History, that they have scarce any Thing in common with it. Even the Epic Poem, tho' it consists much in Narration, yet is distinguish'd enough from History, by the subject Matter, by the Disposal of the Parts, and many other Criterions. Scaliger's Opinion may seem true in respect of one kind of Poetry only, such as that of Lucan, which is properly call'd an Historical Poem: Tho' this may be heighten'd with that poetic Rage and Fire, which, I presume, is somewhat more than Diction, and incompatible with History.

Tho' we generally use the Words Poesis and Poetica, Poesy and Poetry, indiscriminately; yet, if we would speak properly, they ought to be distinguish'd. By a Poem (a third Word, that often occurs in this sort of Dissertations) is meant the Work of the Poet; by Poesy, the actual Exercise; by Poetry, the Art or Habit.

And since Harmony and Sonorousness are so necessary a Part of Poetry, it may not be foreign to our Purpose to compare it with Music; especially as these two entertaining Arts are not only nearly allied in their Nature, but in Fact also, often united: This we see, especially in Odes and Songs, and the Entertainments of the Theatre; where Poesy and Music lend each other their friendly Aid, become joint Associates, and both conspire to captivate their Hearers. In this, also, they farther agree, that they have both the same Admirers. I speak of such as have made a Progress in Letters; for we often meet not only with Lovers of Music, but Masters in it, that, for want of Learning, have no Taste for the Pleasures of Poetry. But among those that are advanced in Literature, an Admirer of one of these Arts, loves the other also; and he that understands one, has a Knowledge in both, or desires and wishes for it. From hence it was, no doubt, that the Ancients made the same Apollo the Patron of Poetry and Music, and attributed to the Muses the divinest Melody, adorning them with the Ensigns of the Harp, and other musical Instruments. Aristotle, likewise, seems to have comprehended Music under Poetry; and tho' that may not be altogether so proper, since Music consists of Sound only, without Words, yet it is plain the Affinity between them is very great. Both charm the Ear with sonorous Measures; Music, indeed, in a higher Degree, but Poetry comes much nearer to it in this Respect, than Prose, how flowing or tuneable soever.

Both turn more particularly upon the Harmony of the Parts, and the proper Disposal of them; both suited to Men of the politest Taste, and both improve it. In short, so nearly are they the same, that the Word Singing is equally applied to both. But this Difference there is, that Poetry is much the more excellent in its kind; because the whole Circle of Learning enters into its Composition; it applies itself more particularly to the Soul, as the other to the Senses; and, lastly, the Advantages of it to Mankind are abundantly greater.

From hence I am naturally led to enquire into the Use and End of Poetry, which is generally reckoned twofold, viz. to instruct and to please. So that we come now to the last Branch of our Definition, wherein we asserted, that Poetry was design'd for the Pleasure and Improvement of Mankind, according to that well known Saying of Horace,

It is agreed, then, by all, that this is the twofold End of Poetry; but which the principal, is still a Doubt. It may bear a Dispute, indeed, which is in Fact the principal; but which ought to be so, surely can be none: For in this, as in all other Arts, the Advantage ought to be considered before the Pleasure. Some, indeed, of our modern Writers, think otherwise; and boldly pronounce Pleasure to be the chief End of Poetry. It can't be denied, but this Opinion is perfectly consonant to their Writings; in which they not only principally consult their Reader's Pleasure, but in Opposition to their Advantage. Witness those lewd Poems with which this divine Art is polluted. But if we would consult Reason, we should allow that even in Verse what improves us, ought to be more regarded than what delights us. I own, the severest Wits, that lay down the most rigid Precepts of Virtue, ought to have a View to Pleasure in their Compositions; for it is the distinguishing Mark of the Poet from the Philosopher, that tho' Virtue is the Aim of both, yet the one presses it closer, indeed, but in a less engaging Manner. In the dry Method of a Teacher he defines his Subject, he explains his Terms, and then gives you Rules; the other cloaths his Precepts in Examples, and imperceptibly insinuates them under the beautiful Disguise of Narration. I own, likewise, that Readers are generally more sensible of the Pleasure they receive, than the Profit, even when it is less proposed by the Writers; for it is That makes the strongest Impression upon the Imagination: Nay, and I grant, that this is what Writers themselves ought to study. Yet notwithstanding all this, Profit may be the chief End of Poetry, and ought to be so; but for that very Reason Pleasure should be joined to it, and accompany it, as a Handmaid, to minister to its Occasions. When Children are allured with the sweeten'd Draught, or gilded Pill, they, as the Physician intended, consider nothing but the Beauty of the one, or the Taste of the other: But it is well known, this was not the chief Intent of the Physician in his Prescription.

This Rule relates principally to the more perfect and sublimer Kinds of Poetry, and especially the Epic and Dramatic. For we don't pretend that Epigram, Elegy, Songs, and the like, conduce much to the Improvement of Virtue. It is enough, if these Writings keep within the Bounds of Chastity, and give no Offence to Good-manners. Poets sometimes write, not so much to move others Passions, as to indulge their own. And as Pleasure is the chief, or, perhaps, the only Effect of this sort of Levities, so it may very innocently be proposed by Authors as the chief End of them. Tho' even from these lesser Flights one Advantage arises, that they improve the Wit, and polish the style, both of the Writer and the Reader; a Circumstance that may be observed in Favour of all Kinds of Poetry.

If it be asked, What are those inward Sensations of Pleasure with which Poetry affects us, or from whence it is Mankind are so highly delighted with that Way of Writing; I answer, this may in some Measure be collected from what has been already said, and farther, from what we shall have Occasion to say hereafter under the subject Matter of Poetry. At present let the following Considerations suffice: It is obvious enough why Harmony of Verse should please us, since that's a Pleasure that arises from a proper Disposition of Sounds, which make their Way directly to the Senses. But still we feel a much higher, from the Images of Things beautifully painted, and strongly impressed upon the Mind. As we are naturally desirous of Truth, we are glad to find our Ideas confirmed by those of others; for from thence we conclude ours are just, and agreeable to Nature. This Assimilation of Ideas is still more pleasant, when it arises from some sudden unforeseen Impression; for all Impressions upon the Mind, whether of Joy or Grief, are more affecting, the swifter they are made, and the more unexpected; the slower they are, the more languid. This is confirmed no less by Experience, than Reason. Since the Impressions, then, of Poetry, are of the vehement kind, it is no Wonder so much Pleasure should attend them, especially when the Ideas we speak of are heighten'd with all the Elegance of Expression. This Pleasure is likewise in some Measure to be attributed to the natural Love of Mankind for Imitation, the Reason of which we shall attempt to give in its proper Place. From these Principles we may account for the Pleasure that arises from Description, as well as that from Fiction.

The Pleasure we receive from the Variety of Thought, and sudden Transitions in Poetry, seems owing to our natural Love of Novelty; for so imperfect is the Happiness of us Mortals, that every Thing by Constancy grows nauseous and insipid to us.

With Regard to the Passions, why some of them should give us greater Pleasure, the more they are put in Motion, is plain; but how Delight should flow from Pity, Terror, and even Sorrow itself, seems truly wonderful, and difficult to account for. And, indeed, to do Justice to this Question, we ought to know the secret Springs of the Soul, and to lay open the Foundations of human Happiness and Misery: Which, because it will require a distinct Dissertation, we shall pass by, at present; reserving it for a more full Enquiry, when we come to treat more particularly of the Nature of Tragedy.

We have already, in a few Words, shewn, wherein the Advantages of Poetry consist; no one can be a Stranger to them: This Art will receive no less Honour, if we look back into its Antiquity. If it took its Rise from Love, (the Opinion, which, in Conformity with Vossius, we have above proposed as most probable) yet to Religion it owes its Increase and Progress; and it may be question'd, which of the two is its true Parent. Dacier calls it the Offspring of Religion; and it is certain, in the earliest Ages of the World it was usual to sing Hymns to the Honour of God upon the solemn Festivals; upon those especially, when after the In-gathering of Harvest they offer'd up to him the First-fruits, and prais'd him for the Blessings they were now in Possession of. In Course of Time, Poetry, which had hitherto depended wholly upon Nature, and knew not the Name of Art, by the Corruption of Mankind grew itself corrupted. To bring it back to its Purity, it was the Care of the wiser Part of Men to lay it under certain Laws and Regulations. From hence arose the Art of Poetry. \ It is a great Dispute among the Learned, what Nation produced the first Poets. The Greeks, who to their own refined Taste ascribe the Origin of all Learning and Arts, laid Claim, likewise, to this, and instanced in Orpheus, Linus, and Musæus, as the first Poets. But Vossius[16] proves it very probable that this Triumvirate of Poetry never existed; and that they are not proper, but common Names, derived from the old Phœnician Language. Be that as it will, (for I am little disposed to engage in so minute a Controversy) I agree with the same Vossius, that Shepherds (I may add, or Husbandmen) found out the Use of Poetry; and that they lived in Greece, near those celebrated Mountains and Springs, Helicon, Parnassus, Aganippe, Hippocrene, Pirene, and the like, that were therefore sacred to the Muses and Apollo. But still it does not appear, that Poetry owes its first Original to the Greeks, (for, as the forementioned learned Author goes on[17]) "if we examine this Matter by the Scripture, we shall find the People of God, the first Inhabitants of the Earth, from whom all Nations are descended, have the best Title to this Honour. Poetry flourished among the Israelites, not only before the Trojan War, but before the coming of Cadmus into Bœotia, who first taught the Greeks the Use of Letters. And tho' we were utterly ignorant of what is mentioned concerning the Hebrew Poetry, yet the Antiquity of Music would teach us that the Original of Verse must be owing to the Oriental Nations; for little Doubt is to be made but Singing begun in the very Infancy of the World. This is farther confirmed, from what we read of Jubal, the seventh from Adam, who is styled the Father of such as handle the Harp and Organ. Antiently, then, Musicians and Poets were the same."

But to examine still farther into the Origin of Poetry, (for what we have hitherto said relates only to the Subject, and the Authors, not to the immediate Occasion of it:) Now this seems to be owing to the Love implanted in Mankind of Imitation and Harmony. Vossius very undeservedly ascribes it to the three following Causes, viz. Nature, an Attempt to write Verse, and a finish'd Skill. By Nature he understands not only the ἑνφνἱα, or Happiness of Parts, but the ὁεμἡ, the Impetus, usually styled the Poetic Fire. I am very sensible of the Advantage of these, and of their Necessity to constitute a good Poet; but much doubt whether they are to be reckoned (what he and I both speak of) the efficient Causes of Poetry. No one can excel in Poetry, without a Genius peculiarly turn'd for it; but the Question is, what general Reason can be assign'd, that gives all Men, even those that have no Talent for it, as well as those that have, a natural Inclination to it. As to the poetic Fire, it may be reckoned a Concomitant of Poetry, but not the Cause of it. No more can an Attempt to write Verses, which is rather the Thing itself in its first State of Imperfection; much less can the Perfection of any Thing be the Cause of its being perfected; that's absurd, and a mere Contradiction in Terms.

The Reason, then, of the Thing in Question, must be fetch'd from the Love of Imitation and Harmony. To this Principle it is owing, that among the most barbarous Part of Mankind we meet with Attempts in Painting, Music, and Poetry. For it is a great Mistake to think that these Arts are consistent only with such refin'd Nations as are Mistresses of all other Arts: No, they are Things of an universal Nature, and agreeable, as it were, to all Mankind, from the very Composition of their Being. Only with this Difference, that in those Parts of the World where Learning and Manners are cultivated, these Arts are nurtur'd, and rise in Perfection; but where the People are rude, and unpolished, they suffer in the common Calamity of the Place. But still, even there, the Seeds shoot forth; witness those barbarous, uncouth Songs, the mean Instruments of Music, and imperfect Sketches in Painting, which are found, according to the Relation of Travellers, among the Indians, and almost Savage People of the North.

This Fondness of Mankind for imitating, proceeds, probably, from nothing else but their Desire of Knowledge and Power. To produce something out of nothing, is the peculiar Property of the Almighty: As Man, therefore, cannot create, it is his Ambition to approach as near to the Exercise of that Power, as his Nature will allow him; and that can be only by imitating Things already made.

His Passion for Harmony is no Wonder; because whatever we call beautiful arises from a just Proportion, and proper Arrangement of its Parts. It is this composes the whole Frame of the Universe; and the more perfect every Individual of it is, the greater Share of Harmony it possesses.

So much for the Original and Cause of Poetry. Of its Antiquity, in Comparison of Prose, I need say but very little, since that seems, beyond all Doubt, to have been prior to it, in Point of Time, tho' behind it in Dignity. Some, indeed, have asserted, that Poetry was the ancienter, out of a Zeal, I suppose, to its Honour, which needs no false Supports: But this Opinion is by no means credible. 'Tis certain, all Learners proceed, as Nature directs them, from the plainest and easiest Things, to those that are more compounded and difficult: For Men to speak Verse before Prose, is the same as if they should pretend to run, or dance, before they could stand, or walk. It is a very weak Argument, with which Strabo (as Vossius cites it) endeavours to maintain the contrary Opinion. To prove Verse the ancientest Way of Writing, he observes, that Prose is styled Oratio Pedestris, [as if we should say creeping Prose.] "Now Speech was carried, before it ventured to walk. Vossius artfully replies, that it was called Pedestris, not because Men against Nature condescended to it, but because they mounted above it, as it were, and left it upon the Earth: For Prose seems to creep, when compared with the Loftiness of Poetry. Now, to retort the Argument, there's no Doubt but Men walk'd first, before they ventured on Horseback." If any one would see more of this, he may consult Vossius. That Poetry, as an Art, flourish'd before Oratory, or that the celebrated Professors of the one are not so ancient as those of the other, is clear from History; but that Men spoke Verse before Prose, is past all Credit, or Probability.

If any Question should arise about the Prevalence of Nature and Art in Poetry, I cannot answer it better than in the Words of Horace[18]:

But if this is the Case, whence comes that Saying so common in every one's Mouth, That a Man must be born, not made a Poet; whereas, in Horace's Judgment, a Man is both born and made so? In answer to this, No more to be sure is intended by the Proverb, than that Strength of Genius enters more into the Composition of a Poet, than the Refinements of Art; tho' both are necessary to the forming him a great one. Writings that betray a true poetic Spirit, how unpolish'd soever they are, extort from us Praise and Admiration; but those that are cold and lifeless, tho' form'd upon the most scrupulous Observation of the Laws of Poetry, are neglected, or condemn'd. The Sloth or Inaccuracy of the one, demands our Censure; but the stupid Rigidness, and labour'd Dulness of the other, provokes at once our Rage, our Hate, and Disdain. It is of little Consequence that Horace seems to put these upon the Foot of Equality. A Poet that lays down general Rules in Verse, and in so short a Compass, cannot be supposed to enter minutely into every Distinction. Besides, the Saying above may be true in this Respect; that Poetry especially, and beyond all other Sciences, requires a Fecundity of Nature; and besides such a peculiar Turn of Wit, as is seldom found, and few are blest with.

And this is partly the Reason, why Poets were said to be inspired; partly, I say, for the chief Reason is probably owing to that Fire, or more than, human Impulse, called by the Greeks ἑνθυσιασμἱϛ, which distinguishes them from other Writers. That this was no real Inspiration in the ancient Poets, (except in those sacred ones that communicated God's Will to Mankind) nor is now so in the Moderns, I suppose needs no Proof; but it is certain, however, that not only the Poets said it was, but the Heathens, also, thought it divine. Hence arose that more than common Reverence, the Populace paid to them. Hence the Title given of them of sacred, and divine. Hence that solemn Invocation of the Muses and Apollo, and sometimes other Deities, with which the Poets, and the Poets only, introduce their Works.

I have no Inclination to spend my Time in examining into the Fables which have long since become an Appendage to Poetry, nor to search out the hidden Meaning of them: I leave that Task to those whom we call the Mythologists; let them, if they please, explain the Allegory of the two Tops of Parnassus, of the Number Nine among the Muses, the Mystery of the Wings of Pegasus, and of the Fountains rising at the Stroke of his Hoof. These, I would only observe, are the Stains of Poetry, contracted from the Corruption of Heathenism, which infected Religion no less with its trifling Puerilities; and it is but just that we, upon whom the clearer Light of Truth has shone, should at length learn to despise such ridiculous Tales, which, by Repetition, are now grown nauseous; and to refine Poetry, as well as true Religion, from the Dross and Alloy of Falshood.

There are some other Things, of less Moment, which I shall pass over with barely mentioning. Poets had anciently Crowns of Laurel and Ivy, to denote by those Ever-greens the Immortality they gain to themselves, and confer on others. Mountains, Groves, and Springs, were sacred to the Muses, because Poets naturally fly from the Noise and Tumult of the City, to the peaceful Solitude of the Country; that so, disengaged from Care and Interruption, they may dedicate the utmost Efforts of Nature to their beloved Profession: Besides,

Because Verse flows naturally there, and the Fancy is strangely awaken'd into Poetry with the Pleasures of Solitude around it.

Lastly, Another Question may possibly be ask'd, and deservedly too, (for it is a Matter of some Importance to know) how far Poetry and Oratory agree, and wherein they differ. To give a direct Answer to this, we say, that Eloquence is common to both; Eloquence, therefore, ought to be consider'd as twofold; that of Oratory, and that of Poetry. Those Things that come under the Title of Eloquence in general, relate to both Arts; such as, Topicks of Praise, whether of Persons, Facts, or Things; Topicks of Exhortation, Congratulation, Consolation, and the like, with which the Orator, as well as the Poet, excites Anger, Love, Pity, and all other Passions. Both observe alike a proper Decorum of Manners, according to Age, Fortune, and Condition of Life. Ardent Expressions, and lively Thoughts, are the Embellishments of both. In both the Diction is elevated, or familiar, grave, florid, or strong, as Occasion serves. For all these Things, as I said before, are Branches of Eloquence in general, are drawn from the same Heads of Invention, and illustrated by Examples fetch'd from Orators or Poets. So that it is impossible almost for him that treats of one of these Arts, not to mention some Things that are in common to both. However, the Difference between them is very great; and Poetry has several other Characteristics besides that of Metre; a Style, for instance, peculiar to itself, Fiction, copious Descriptions, poetic Fire, and (to add no more) a certain Licence, denied to Orators, in the due Exercise of which the Poet's Art is chiefly conspicuous. These are all worthy an accurate and distinct Consideration, and such an one hereafter, perhaps, they may come under.

The technical Measure of Verses, and the different Sorts of them, I leave to the Grammarians, whose Business it is to scan Syllables, to weigh Dactyls and Spondees, Trochees and Iambics; to teach the Difference between Heroic, Elegiac, Alcaic, Sapphic, Anapæstic Verse, and many others, with which the fruitful Field of Poetry abounds: Not that these Things are to be despised: but only as they are more proper to be taught in the School, than the University. It is not my Business to dwell upon so barren a Soil, or to trifle my Time about the Externals of Poetry; but to enter into the Spirit of it, and make Things, not Words, the Subject of my Enquiries.

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My present Design being to give some Account of the Thought and Diction peculiar to Poets, I must first premise, that there are many Things relating to this Subject, which Words can scarce come up to, and are much better conceived than expressed. Every one will be satisfied of this, that considers of how delicate a Nature Poetry is; how variously it diversifies both Words and Things, by such Bounds as have a very close Connection, upon which, however, the Beauty of the Thought and Diction often turns[20]. These, tho' clearly enough distinguished in the Mind; yet, such is the Weakness of Words, can never be explained in Writing. A true Judgment, duly exercised in reading the best Poets, and in making proper Reflections upon them, is the only Means of arriving at this Part of Knowledge. The outer Lines of it, which afford proper Matter for a Dissertation, I shall endeavour to represent to you, as well as I can.

But I would here, likewise, farther observe, that Writing and Thinking are (at least ought to be) so nearly allied, that it is impossible for any one, in treating of Style, not to mention some Things that relate to Thought likewise. This, therefore, will be my Case. At present, however, I shall confine my self chiefly to the former, reserving the latter for another intire Dissertation.

By Style I understand a Method of Writing peculiar to every Writer, Art, or Science; or that which distinguishes Writings and Writers from one another. The Beauty of it consists in such a proper Choice of Words, and in so apt a Connexion of them, as may express the Conceptions of the Mind clearly, and at the same Time cloathed with a becoming Dignity. The Style of Poetry is extremely various; because every Species of this divine Art has a Diction proper to itself; we shall just touch upon the several Kinds in this Dissertation, as we shall treat more fully, perhaps, of each, when we come to examine them separately. Our chief Business, at present, is, to speak of the Style of Poetry in general, and shew wherein the Difference consists between that and Prose.

Now this is so great, that the Poets use many Phrases, even with the greatest Elegance, which a Prose Writer could not, without the Imputation of false Latin, or the Guilt of Solecism. Instances of such Expressions, reducible to no certain Rule, are very frequent. To mention only a few: Adjectives and Participles that describe the Situation or Part of the Body, very elegantly require the following Noun to be put in the accusative Case, in Imitation of the Greek Construction; v.g. Stratus membra sub arbuto; Ære caput refulgens; saucius ora; Lacerum crudeliter ora, and the like[21].

Adjectives of the Neuter Gender, and singular Number, and sometimes of the plural, are used adverbially. So, Triste micans; Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, dulce loquentem; Cometa ferale rubens; torva tuentem, &c.

Many Adjectives govern a Genitive, in a Manner altogether poetical. Irritus incepti; non modicus voti; melior dextræ; Pubes læta laborum; egregius linguæ; Pravus togæ, inglorius ausi; anhelus laboris; integer vitæ scelerisque purus; lassus maris & viarum, militiæque; seri studiorum; fortunatus laborum; fessi rerum; trepidi rerum; and numberless others of the same Sort. Often, likewise, and with no less Elegance, they govern an Infinitive: Orpheus blandus ducere quercus; superare pugnis nobilis; celer sequi; vultus nimium lubricus aspici; durus componere versus; Adria facilis moveri; fortis tractare serpentes; doctus Phœbi dicere laudes; cantare periti; and the like.

Adjectives, and their Substantives, denoting Number and Multitude, are used in the singular Number: As, Populus frequens; multa rosa; innumera avis; quam multo repetet Græcia milite; licet illi plurima manet lacrima.

To mention but one Observation more: Some Adjectives, which in common Prose agree with their Substantives, are turned into the Neuter Gender and plural Number, and the Substantives into the Genitive Case: As, Ultima mundi; ardua montis; cuncta terrarum; prospera rerum; dura rerum; aspera ponti; acuta belli; strata viarum; opaca locorum; and many more to the like Purpose.

It would be endless, to produce all the Examples that come under these Rules; they abound in every Page almost of the best Poets, especially the Lyric: For the Lyrics chiefly delight in the true poetic Style, as may be collected from the Examples I have here produced, most of them from the Odes of Horace. But there are, besides, various poetical Expressions, which tho' not reducible to any particular Class, yet occur up and down in Reading, and are worthy of treasuring up in the Memory. Such are frequent in Virgil:

And many in Juvenal:

But especially in the Prince of the Lyric Poets:

I shall omit any more Examples; tho' what I have hitherto laid before you, I dare say, have brought their own Reward with them, as they are true Specimens of poetic Elegance, and abundantly illustrate what I had to say upon this Head. To alledge all that relate to it, would be only to transcribe the greatest Part of the best Poets. And as the Beauty of the poetic Style chiefly consists in its own Peculiarities, those that would thoroughly understand it, must endeavour, with Diligence and Application, to make it familiar to them.

Nor is the Style of Poetry distinct from Oratory in Greek and Latin only; the same Difference runs thro' all Tongues, both modern and ancient, English as well as foreign. To this is owing that Difficulty, which the Learners of a new Language complain of much more in reading the Poets, than the Prose Writers. The Reason why the former use such a Variety of Style so remote from that of the latter, seems to be owing to this; that as Poetry requires a peculiar Way of Thinking, it affects, likewise, a peculiar Manner of Writing and Speaking, that so it may be set off at as great a Distance from Prose as possible. Besides, as it is confined within the strict Rules of Measure, it is but just to allow it a greater Liberty of Diction, and so compensate, in some Degree, that Inconvenience with this Advantage.

The Expressions I have hitherto produced are purely poetical, which, beautiful as they are in Verse, if once resolved into Prose, become flat and insipid; you would acknowledge them, indeed, to be poetical Materials, but rudely scattered, and disjointed; and, as Horace describes it,

Other Phrases there are, which tho' not merely poetical, yet are much more suitable to Verse than Prose: They may well enough be used sparingly, and with Caution, by an Orator, or an Historian; but if they occur frequently, they are Blemishes in his Composition, and mere Affectation. Of this Stamp are, Campus pinguis sanguine; the Field now sated with Blood: Vela vento turgida; the turgid Sails: Duces sordidi pulvere honesto, or non indecora; with honourable Dust besmeared; and the like.

But tho' the Expressions above, that are purely poetical, or that are chiefly so, conduce much to the Beauty of a Poem, yet good Verse may be made of those only that are common to all Kinds of Writing. For Proof of this one Example shall suffice, from the Odes of Horace:

In these Verses, tho' truly beautiful, there is not somuch as one Phrase, not one Word, but what might with Propriety be used in Prose. It is observable, however, that even these, and the like Expressions, when transposed, and taken out of Metre, lose all their Elegance: For tho' every Word, considered in itself, is agreeable to either Style, yet there is somewhat so distinguishing in the poetical, as throws a Beauty upon Words, which, out of Metre, would appear insipid, or absurd; and yet, tho' we are sensible of the Thing, it is impossible to assign a Reason for it.

Another Peculiarity there is in the Style of Poetry, that a Thing is often express'd, not by Name, but by some concomitamt Circumstance, or Adjunct belonging to it; by which Means the Mind is led on to an entire Conception of it, by pleasing Intervals, as it were, and a successive Gradation of Thought. Thus Virgil,

Again,

And in the same Book,

These, perhaps, and the like, might be reduced to the Head of Descriptions; but they are very short and imperfect ones, and, if I may so speak, are from their very Imperfection the more perfect. The Mind of Man does not love to have every Thing too minutely laid before it; it pleases itself in having Room for Exercise, and to walk alone, as it were, without leading.

There are many other Things, which Poets chuse to express paraphrastically, and in short Descriptions, rather than in simple Terms. Every Body is acquainted with the usual little Images they give us (the larger ones I have at present nothing to do with) of the Morning, Night, Noon, and Evening; as

So of Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn; as,

Numberless other Descriptions there are of this Sort, which we admire in Poetry, and yet in Prose we should laugh at.

'Tis usual, likewise, in Poetry, (which is another Peculiarity) to denote Men, Places, Rivers, Mountains, by various Names taken from any of their Adjuncts. This is so well known, that I have no need, out of the Multitude of Examples, to produce any. 'Tis no less common to put Particulars for Generals; thus Virgil:

And in another Place,

So Horace,

Again,

And a little after,

Not a little elegant is this Manner of Writing, since, by an agreeable Variety of Particulars, it continually represents to the Mind somewhat new, and sets before it fresh Entertainment; whereas Generals, being always the same, grow cold and lifeless, by their too frequent Repetition.

Tho' Oratory may seem to be more adapted to express our Conceptions, as being not confined by the Fetters of Metre; yet Poetry, it is certain, makes a stronger Impression upon the Mind, and conveys a livelier Image to the Imagination, and that at once with such Elegance and Brevity, as the Force of Prose can never come up to. In Proof of this, I might produce Multitudes of Examples; but none more full than that of Horace,

A Passage, this, entirely poetical, and not only beautiful in itself, but more proper to convey an Idea of the Thing intended, than all that the Power of Oratory can furnish.

To the Style of Poetry Descriptions likewise are almost peculiar. 'Tis true, they occur frequently in Prose; but then they are used either with Impropriety, or with Caution; or the Writings themselves are of a Kind that borders near upon Poetry, and therefore borrows Descriptions from it. Historians, indeed, describe Things, Places, and Persons; but not so much for the Sake of Ornament, as Necessity; that the Series of their Narration may appear clear and perspicuous to their Readers. Orators likewise attempt Descriptions, when they have Occasion for them to work upon the Passions. But neither the one nor the other affect them as a Decoration to their Writings, which Poets generally do very successfully, making use of these sort of Colourings, either of general Things or Particulars, in Miniature or at full Length, as Occasion serves, not only with a Design to move the Passions, but to please the Fancy. Great Judgment is required in the due Exercise of this Art, and a puerile Wit never betrays itself more apparently, than by forcing in Descriptions, out of mere Ostentation, that have no Connection with the Subject, and are consequently a Burden to it. But nothing is more beautiful, when a proper Choice is made of them; nothing more agreeable to the Nature of Poetry; few Things more peculiar to it. A Prose Writer does not only on Purpose use fewer Descriptions than the Poet, but in Reality is less capable of them. The very Essence of Poetry consists chiefly in Imitation; and such a Power it has in placing Things before the Eye of the Reader, as Prose entirely wants; and can be conceived only, not expressed[48]. An Historian might record the Omens and Prodigies that attended the Death of Julius Cæsar; but it is impossible he should come up to that admirable Description of them Virgil has left us. He might recount, for instance, the surprizing Eruption of Mount Ætna; but could never find out Words to represent it in so lively Colours as these,

Were an Historian to relate the Circumstance, in the Fourth Book of Virgil's Æneis, he would tell us at once, that Dido had struggled long with a secret Passion for Æneas; but no Expressions out of Verse, could fix in the Mind so strong a Sense of that inward Disease with which she labour'd, as those wonderful Lines at the Beginning of the Narrative:

And what follows, all the Efforts of Prose can never equal: That, particularly, which the Poet subjoins, after he had described her sacrificing to the Gods, and consulting the Oracle:

The whole Description is wonderful, and sufficiently testifies the Power of Poetry, beyond that of Prose. I beg Leave, however, to add one or two Instances more. The Poet describing the Queen just dying for Love, adds,

And a few Lines after:

Among the other fatal Predictions of the unhappy Queen's Death, an Historian might mention the foreboding Noise of the Scrietch-Owl; but would fall infinitely short of the inexpressible Elegance with which it is described in the two following Lines:

I have produced, perhaps, already, too many Examples; but I cannot forbear adding one more, which exceeds Admiration itself: It is the Description of Tityos, in the Sixth Æneid, suffering Punishment in the Shades below.

From the whole, I suppose it abundantly plain, that there is an Energy in the poetic Style, as it is much more adapted to copying Nature, than Oratory is, with all its Rhetoric.

'Tis farther to be observed, that figurative Expressions are far more frequent in Poetry, than Prose, as they are far more suitable to it; because it consists much more in the Embellishments of Style, in the Liveliness of Description, and impressing the Images of Things upon the Imagination. For tho' it rejects all false Colouring, and too great Affectation of Pomp, yet from the very Nature of it we may judge it takes in more real Ornaments than Prose. As to Tropes or Figures, as they are usually called, many of them are never used in Oratory, some but seldom, and very sparingly; others, again, agree naturally with it, particularly, the Irony, Metonymy, Synechdoche, and Metaphor. Tho' the last of these, for the Reason before alledg'd, is more the Property of Poetry. Some of the Figures are so familiar, and natural, that they are every Day used in common Speech, even by the Vulgar, of which Sort we may reckon those above, and some others. Metaphors never fail of being beautiful, when applied with mature Judgment, and a lively Wit; that is, when they are drawn from Nature, connect Ideas that have a due Relation to each other, and are not too much wrested to a foreign Sense. But nothing is more insipid, more ridiculous, or absurd, when these Rules are transgress'd in the Choice of them; which is the Case, very often, of our modern Writers, to their eternal Disgrace.

Nothing can shew more the Elegance of Metaphors, and their Agreement with Nature, than those that are taken from Men and living Creatures, and applied to Trees and Plants. For as these have a sort of Life ascrib'd to them (call'd the vegetative) and are really endued with it; the Transition is easy to Creatures of a higher Rank, that are endued with it in a more proper Sense. Hence we hear so often, not only among the Poets, but in Prose, and even in common Conversation, of Trees and Plants being alive or dead, healthy or sickly. Nay, often human Passions and Affections are attributed to them: Plants, in particular (to omit other Instances) are often said to love or hate this Soil or that. So Virgil, speaking of them,

And afterwards,

Again, in the same Book,

There are many other Metaphors of different Kinds, which tho' they may seem, as indeed they are, a little of the boldest, yet are agreeable to Nature, and true Elegance. As that of Virgil,

And in another Place,

These lofty Metaphors, however, are to be used with great Judgment, for fear they should seem too far fetch'd, and the Style more swelling than weighty.

As I am now upon the Subject of Figures, I can't help making a Remark or two on those Books of Rhetorick that are usually read in Schools. They contain, indeed, many Things of Use, and worthy of Observation: But surely there's no Necessity that an Art designed for the Refinement of the Minds of Youth, should be treated of in so rough a Method, so full of dry, logical Definitions, as must be hard for Boys to understand, and much harder to remember. Nor is there any Need of all those Sub-divisions of Figures, one under another, which, when Boys have once made themselves Masters of, before they have Judgment enough to use them, they think their Business is to adorn their little Performances with these sort of Flowers, as they call them, and fling them in, at any Rate, without any Regard to Propriety: Their Style, by being thus overcharged, as it were, instead of appearing with fresh Vigour, abounds only with disagreeable Excrescencies. A Knowledge of these Things will be much better arrived at by Experience, than Precept: And every one that is conversant with the best Authors, that reads them with Understanding, and true Relish, cannot but be acquainted with all the Figures of Speech, and the Art of using them, tho' he never heard so much as their Names, or their Definitions.

It is common with all Sorts of Writers to express the same Thing by different Modes of Speech, and such Variety is often reckoned a Proof of their Elegance. Now Poets have in this Particular a greater Liberty allow'd them, than any other Writers, for the Reason I have often mention'd, because their Works consist more in Ornament and Decoration. But the Exercise of this Liberty ought to be conducted with great Judgment and Caution; lest, by an ill Use of it, the Style grow too luxuriant. The just Medium, and the vicious Extreme, cannot be better learnt than by making a Comparison between Virgil and Ovid. Both of them, you'll see, express the same Thought different Ways; the one never fails of Beauty, the other falsly aims at it. Ovid tells you the very same Thing, in many Words, and sometimes with very little Difference between them: Virgil illustrates one Thing in general, by distinguishing its several Species or Adjuncts, and his Description of each is perfectly new. A few Examples, out of many, will make this plain. Says Ovid,

And in another Place,

And in the next Verse almost,

In the Sixth Book Niobe magnifying her own Happiness, and extolling herself above Measure, boasts thus,

But to omit other Instances, only take a View of Narcissus in the same Poet, desperately in Love with himself:

And afterwards, as if all he had done was nothing, he only changes the Person, and brings in Narcissus himself speaking thus:

Very justly may the last Words, with some small Alteration, be applied to Ovid himself, in whom a Fecundity of Words occasioned a Barrenness of Sense. How far is this from him, qui nil molitur inepte, who ne'er attempts a Thought in vain? Virgil, I mean, much better entitled, in my Opinion, to that Character, than he for whom Horace design'd it. With how much greater Propriety does that divine Poet express the same Thing in different Ways, where he describes the Manner of Grafting and Inoculating?

By this Comparison of Ovid and Virgil, how tedious seem the Trifles, and how nauseous the Repetitions of the former; how various the Description, how diffusive, and yet how chaste the Elegance of the latter? The one with wonderful Art represents, as I said, the same Thing, or the same Thought, by different Species or Adjuncts; the other gives you the same Thing ten Times over, under the very same Species, by changing the Words only; from which superabundant Luxuriance, as his Style must needs want Nerves, so must his Readers Patience. I would not, however, condemn it throughout; he has many Passages that are worthy of Praise, and some, of Virgil himself. Of this Sort is that Description of the Fate of Niobe's Children:

But in many Places, it must be own'd, he is guilty of that Luxuriance I just now mention'd; I cannot, therefore, sufficiently wonder at their Ignorance, who presume to compare him to Virgil. But of this, perhaps, I shall have a more convenient Opportunity hereafter; when I make a farther Comparison between some other Authors. I beg Leave, at present, as I have cited a remarkable Place out of Virgil's Georgics, to present you with one or two more, that are no less deserving your Attention: I am sure, nothing can shew the Force and Elegance of the poetic Style, more than what that Model of Perfection has left us, even upon the plainest, and most ignoble Subject. Among his Precepts of Agriculture, he gives you these, in the following Words:

Nothing can exceed the Beauty of this Passage, unless that where he describes the various Methods of Grafting and Inoculating:

I hope I shall deserve your Pardon for producing these Examples; they are of no ordinary Nature, for that very Reason because their Subject is so. I know very well, how absurd it would be to repeat to you, upon this Head, all the beautiful Passages that occur in the best Poets: What else would this be, but to transcribe the greatest Part of them? But I thought it not improper to give you these Specimens from the Georgics, that you might view in them the Force of Poetry and Virgil, who was able to throw such a Splendor upon so mean Materials, and make them at once the Pleasure and Envy of Posterity.

To shun the Repetition of the same Words, as much as possible, is a Precept not only applicable to Poets, but to all other Writers; because the same Sounds tire the Ears of the Reader. Here those Figures of Elegance, the Epizeuxis and Anadiplosis, are manifestly excepted. Some, however, out of a Detestation of this Fault, fall into a greater; and in their Zeal for Variety, by wresting Words from their natural Signification, are guilty of the very worst Fault in Writing, Obscurity. The best Writers never run into this Extreme, but chuse rather to repeat the same Words, than use others in an improper Sense, as may be seen very frequently in Virgil. It is probable, indeed, a Desire of Elegance first brought in a Diversity of Words; for if Convenience only were considered, each Conception of the Mind would have but a single Word appropriated to it: Whereas now, in learning a new Language, to our great Trouble we find many Words affixed to one Idea, or many Ideas to one Word. Nor is Disagreeableness of Sound to be avoided only in the Repetition of the same Words, but often (for the Rule does not always hold) in using different Words of the same Termination. As these in Juvenal:

'Tis certain, in poetical Compositions we ought to have great Regard to Harmony, and to endeavour to captivate the Ear, as well as please the Imagination of our Readers. For tho' nothing is more contemptible than versus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ, poor shallow Verse, mere bubbling Trifles, that have no other Recommendation but Sound; yet they err, on the other Hand, who have a View only to the Sense, and none to the Musick that should echo to it. This was the Case of many of our Countrymen, of Couley, particularly, and others of the last Age; who, studious only for the Beauty of Thought, neglected, or did not rightly understand the Melody of Verse: Till at length our Dryden arose, who added to English Poetry what it only wanted, Numbers, Harmony, and Accuracy; by which Means, if we are not too partial in our Judgment of ourselves, it now bears the Laurel from all the Nations in Europe.

The best Poets among the Antients were solicitous about the Disposal of their Words, as well as the Choice of them. It is an Elegance, which, tho' often unobserved, pleases the Mind insensibly. And yet any one, with the least Attention, will perceive, that there's not a little Difference, whether the same Word is placed in one Part of a Verse, or another. How much, for Instance; would that of Virgil

suffer in the Change, if it were read,

Various Examples there are, of this Sort, which it would be needless to alledge. But I would here observe, that the Harmony of Verse does not only consist in its being free from all Asperity, and flowing gently with one steddy Course: Some Asperity is often necessary; a Poem may labour for the Want of, and offend the Ears even with its Smoothness. Many, therefore, much wrong their Judgment, who prefer Ovid, Claudian, and others, to Virgil, on this Account; because, forsooth, they find less Roughness in their Verse: Whereas the very Want of this is their Defect; and Virgil does not more excel them in Versification, than in every other Requisite of a good Poet. He is generally harmonious, full, and fluent; and if he does not always keep one even Tenor, this is not owing to any Inability, but, as we observed before, in another Particular, the Effect of his Choice. He knew it would be more grateful to his Reader to change, now and then, the usual Smoothness of Style, and mix with it somewhat of an agreeable Harshness. His Periods, likewise, he concludes very variously; generally, indeed, where the Verse ends, but often in different Parts of it, with this Foot or that, as the Sound requires. In the Conduct of this Variety, of as small a Moment as it may seem, there's no little Labour, nor less Elegance. It is rarely aimed at by Ovid, Claudian, Statius, and the rest, who fall short of Virgil in that boasted Sweetness of Verse, whenever his Subject demands it of him. It is a great Mistake to think Ovid's Negligence is a Matter of Merit, and that his Verses flow with the more Ease, for his Want of Care in their Composition; because, as it is urged, they are not so much the Effect of Study, as of Nature. Every Excellence in Writing must proceed from both; the more a Poem is laboured, the more natural it shall often seem; and its Stiffness may be owing to Neglect. To illustrate what I have said of Virgil, by one Example, out of many: In which of the abovemention'd Poets shall we find any Lines, I will not say that exceed in Harmony and Softness his Description of Orpheus and Eurydice, but come near it? The whole is sweet; but nothing can be more so than the following Part of it.

In reading these, and the like Passages, how naturally may we apply to the Poet, what he does to his Daphnis?

And again,

Whether it was from Chance, or Design, that these Verses, by their very Sound, represent the Thing they describe, is not worth enquiring. It is certain, some Words are so naturally formed for this Purpose, and Poetry for the proper Disposal of them, that this Felicity can't well be avoided; and 'tis to Chance alone we are often indebted for these beautiful Echo's. Sometimes, however, they are the undoubted Effect of Art. Whence soever they proceed, they frequently occur, and are an ample Proof of the Force and Elegance of the poetic Style. That of Virgil is well known, where we see the Ox knock'd down, and hear the Noise of his sudden Fall, and lumpish Weight,

In the same Book, in the Description of the Naval Course, we have the following Lines:

What could better express the swift Motion with which the Ship brush'd by its Rival, and sail'd away clear of the Shelves, into the open Sea. In the last Verse, particularly, the Words seem with their Briskness to protrude one another, and skim away to the Goal. In another Part of the Description the same Image is thus represented:

After this, follows that beautiful Comparison of the sailing of this Ship, and the Flight of the Dove, the Swiftness and Evenness of which is thus most admirably express'd:

On the other Hand, how clearly do we see the dishonourable Tardiness with which the inglorious Ship drags on, after she had bulged upon the Rock?

Can any Thing move slower than the Verse, or with greater Art? But what deserves all Admiration, or rather what exceeds it, is, the same Poet's Description of the Giants Attempt against Heaven, by heaping Mountain upon Mountain.

How the Verse labours! Conati imponere—Pelio Ossam—Without any Elision of the Vowels, it moves on with Difficulty, and totters, as it were, with an unweildy Load, to represent to us the stupendous Image of the straining of the Giants. In the Words, atque Ossæ frondosum involvere Olympum, there seems to be a Redundancy of Syllables, and we see in them the enormous Superstructure rise higher and higher, by one Layer of Mountains heaped upon another.

Since, then, it is the Nature of Poetry to express the Things it describes by the very Sound of the Verse; how little Share of the Spirit of it have they, who, by an unnatural Constraint, smother their Thoughts with Words that are dumb to the Sense? And yet this is a Fault many are guilty of; who will set before you a rapid Torrent in the slow Length of an Alexandrine; rural Pleasures, in Words that represent the Clangor of a Trumpet; the Din of War, with the soft and easy Strain of Elegy; the Triumphs of Love, with the rough and unpolish'd Address of a Clown; and debase this divine Art with a thousand such Contradictions. A Lover of Virgil, that reads him with Discernment, will never fall into these, and the like Enormities; for which Reason, 'tis from him I produced the several Examples that have illustrated each Part of this Dissertation. No one can have Reason to complain of their Number; for nothing else could have so display'd the hidden Charms of Poetry. Let me recommend it, therefore, to my young Audience, who are fired with the Love of so engaging an Art, to make him the Bent of all their Care and Application; let Virgil be often in your Hand, and never out of your Thoughts,

It is a common Opinion, that those mutilated Verses that occur up and down in the Æneis, were left so by the Author out of Design, and to add a certain Beauty to his Style. I am rather inclined to think them the Marks of an imperfect Work, and that they would have been fill'd up by the Author, if he had put his last Hand to that divine Performance. It is an agreed Point, that the Georgics are more correct than the Æneis; now in them we don't find any of these Mutilations, and in the Æneis one that leaves the Sense imperfect. In a Place or two, indeed, some seeming Reason may be assign'd for this sudden breaking off; viz. to represent more naturally the Thing in Description. As in this:

Tho' even here, I would observe by the Way, the unalterable Resolution of Æneas, and his abrupt leaving the Queen, might have been express'd as well, if his Speech had ended where it does now, and the Verse been continued on afterwards. It is certain, no good Account can be given of most of these Hiatus's; and therefore it is very difficult to find out the Elegance of them. There may be a Grace, possibly, in some seeming Defects; as in those false Quantities, which Virgil sometimes, but sparingly admits, to awaken in his Reader an Attention to the Rules of Poetry, by so becoming a Violation of them. But tho' a Lisp, a Mole, or a slight Cast of the Eye, may add new Beauties to the Beautiful, Lameness and Deformity never can.

But whatever is the Determination concerning Virgil (for I would not be too peremptory in mine) modern Writers, and especially those of our own Country, take, undoubtedly, too great a Liberty in imitating him, who purposely leave many half Lines, both in their English and Latin Poems. This is often but an Indulgence of their Sloth; sometimes of their Want of Words, or of Wit; they leave part of a Verse, because they know not how to finish it; and sometimes, perhaps, it is owing to an Affectation of Elegance. To me, I must confess, these Gaps, in Reading, are always offensive; not to say absurd and ridiculous. But so it is, they receive a Sanction, it seems, from the Authority of Virgil. Allowing he left some designedly, it does not follow our Writers have a Pretence to the same Liberty. They shall have it in abundance, if they'll attempt another Æneis. In the mean Time, I would have them consider a little the Difference between a Poetical Essay, and an Epic Poem; or if that be their Attempt, the Difference, still, between theirs and Virgil's.

Nor are they guilty of less Presumption, who, under the sacred Name of Virgil, arrogantly transgress the Laws of Quantity. In the Course of a long Work, that requires the greatest Nicety and Conduct, such a Liberty, when used with Caution and Modesty, is not only excuseable, but elegant: But what is this to our little poetical Businesses? In vain is Virgil here alledg'd, of all Authorities the greatest, or Cæsura, of all Figures the usefullest! 'Tis true, that immortal Poet uses this License sometimes, not only in the Æneis, but in the Georgics, and even in the Eclogues: The Prince of Poets, and the great Arbiter of Verse, might claim a discretionary Power of suspending the Laws of it, as he saw Occasion; but for us to invade his Prerogative, under Pretence of imitating his Example, is the same as if a Subject should usurp the Authority of a King, and justify himself by that very Authority. We are not, however, totally debarr'd this Liberty; nor yet indulged it in the same Degree with Virgil; much less ought we to extend it beyond him.

Scarce any Thing is of greater Difficulty, or Moment, in the poetic Style, than the true Use of Epithets. Nothing loads a Poem, or tires the Reader more, than too great a Redundancy of them. Now they are always redundant, unless their Substantives receive from them either new Ideas, or some Illustration and Ornament too of their own. And yet with the Observation of these Rules, it is possible they may be redundant, that is, a Poem may be clogg'd with too many of them. I shall lay before you some Examples of both Kinds of Epithets; and shall take Care to make Choice of such as may not only illustrate the Point before us, but many other Beauties of the poetic Style.

Of the former Sort of Epithets, that add new and distinct Ideas to their Substantives, the following Verses will furnish many. In Virgil's most admirable Description of the Plague raging among the Cattle, in the third Book of the Georgics, we have these Lines:

And a few Lines after:

Again:

Afterwards:

In the foremention'd Description of the Fate of Orpheus and Eurydice:

In these Examples there are only two Epithets, viz. ater and duro, the second Sort of which I shall speak of presently. But the rest, you may observe, as in cunctantes ministros, equus infelix studiorum, ardentes oculi, aspera lingua, defixa aratra, &c. add a new Idea, quite distinct from the general Nature of the Substantive, and rising from the special Adjuncts and Circumstances of the Thing described.

The second Sort of Epithets are those, that are not so distant from the general Nature of the Substantives, and yet not perfectly coincident with it; but bring with them Light and Ornament, tho' not new Ideas. As in the abovemention'd Description of Virgil:

And in the first Æneid:

In timidi damæ, cervi fugaces, and tempestates sonoras, the Epithets we see are of near Affinity with the Substantives; for they express some Adjuncts, or Properties, which are always inherent in them. Therefore are of a different Kind from tristis aratror, natantia lumina, invalidas palmas, and the rest above cited, that exhibit Ideas totally distinct from the universal Nature of the Subject, and agree with it only pro hic & nunc, as the Schoolmen speak. The Epithets of this distinct Kind entertain the Mind with a more agreeable Variety; but those of the other require, perhaps, more Care and Judgment in the proper Choice of them: For tho' they border upon the general Nature of their Substantives, expressing, as we said, some of their inherent Qualities; yet, we likewise observed, they don't perfectly coincide with them, but express an Idea somewhat different, and yet not totally so. These Expressions, for Instance, the fearful Deer, and the loud Tempests, are not like those Absurdities we shall have Occasion hereafter to expose; such as burning Fire, cold Ice, which are but other Words for hot Heat, and cold Cold; but represent to us some special, and less essential Adjuncts of their Substantives; and therefore are not to be indiscriminately used upon every Occasion, but then only, when they are agreeable to the Nature of the Subject. For Instance, because Virgil has said, the fearful Deer, and flitting Stags, it by no means follows that these Epithets are always applicable, whenever Stags or Deer shall happen to be mention'd. In the Place he used them, they were proper, because the Wonder of what he was describing turn'd wholly upon the Circumstance they describe, viz. that the Plague, which was common to all the Beasts, brought them all to such an Equality and Unanimity, that even those that were by Nature fearful, and formed for Flight, associated with such as lived upon Rapine and Slaughter. So, again, because the same Author has Luctantes ventos, tempestatesque sonoras, we are not to conclude we may use the same Epithets, with the same Words, at any Time. He made Choice of them to remind his Reader of the Difficulty of Æolus's Province to restrain the Impetuosity of the boisterous Winds.

Upon this Occasion, I cannot but think, the Gradus ad Parnassum, and other Books of that Stamp, no small Prejudice to Learners. Here Boys meet with Heaps of undistinguish'd Epithets, and synonymous Words, before they are come to Maturity of Judgment to make a proper Choice of them; and consequently blindly pick out such as the Hiatus of the Verse requires, with little Regard to Sense, and less to Propriety and Elegance. By relying upon these Helps, they give themselves up to Sloth, their Ideas are confounded, and their Judgments corrupted. The Patrons of these sort of Books have nothing to urge in their Defence, but that by facilitating the Scholar's Pains, they allure him to that Study, which he would otherwise have declined, on account of its Difficulty. But, before these Helps were thought of, Poetry was in as flourishing a Condition as in our Time; and it seems much more adviseable for the Boys to receive all proper Assistances from their Master, or School-fellows, than from these Fasciculi. To banish them from the Schools, would only have this Consequence; that it would put the Youth upon reading the best Poets, in order to whet their Imagination, and ripen their Judgment. If these Books are to any allowable, let them be indulged, not to Boys, but to confirm'd Poets, who have Judgment enough to select proper Words out of them. But to these such childish Helps are contemptible. All Things, therefore, consider'd, it would be no Disadvantage to Poetry, if the Gradus ad Parnassum, Flores Poetarum, Elegantiæ Poeticæ, and the other Thesaurus's of this Nature, were committed to the Flames, or for ever buried in Oblivion. But to return:

There are other Epithets, of so general a Nature, that in all poetical Descriptions they are always applicable to their Substantives, and yet are different from those I just now mention'd, that perfectly coincide with them. As in Virgil:

And in Ovid:

The Epithets, lutea, roseis, vigil, purpureas, &c. may always be used, in the Description of a bright Morning: And the same Thing may be observ'd of general Descriptions of the Night, the four Seasons of the Year, and the like.

There are others, again, of a middle Kind between the two Sorts of Epithets I have above laid down; which tho' they do not add to their Subjects distinct Ideas, yet are much farther off from the general Nature of them, than these I have here mention'd. Of this Sort are the following in the foremention'd Description of the Plague among the Cattle.

And again:

In general it is true, but not always, that Herbs are joyful, Meadows soft, Rivers pure, and the Breath of Calves sweet.

These are the general Rules, and such as are rarely or never to be transgress'd, in the Choice of Epithets: But to insert them only to fill up a Verse, when they are entirely idle and useless, and the Description is neither advanced, heightened, or illustrated by them, is the greatest Fault almost a Writer can be guilty of. From hence the Style is barren and jejune; the Sense relax'd and enervated. And yet this Fault, great as it is, not only Boys, but some even of the Ancients, and many of our modern Writers, run into. Buchanan, in his Paraphrastical Version of the Psalms, has these Verses:

Two Lines after he goes on thus:

We had no Occasion to be reminded once, much less twice in the Compass of five Verses, that Water was liquid; 'tis a Circumstance that served as little for the Information of the Reader, as for the Illustration of what the Poet was describing. Ovid is often guilty this Way; as in the following Verse:

To produce more Instances, would be needless: One small Scruple, I confess, arises to me upon this Head, from observing that Horace and Virgil seem to use some few of these redundant Epithets; and 'twas for this Reason I said above, the Rule I had laid down ought rarely or never to be violated. But whatever we determine concerning those great Authorities (for I know not how to impeach them) it is certain they very sparingly allow themselves this Liberty; and the Writers, perhaps, of that Age, paid so great a Veneration to Homer, that they sometimes affected even to imitate his Faults. Notwithstanding, therefore, this Exception, (and what Rule is without one?) I may venture to affirm, that the Laws I proposed, in relation to Epithets, ought punctually to be observed. It is farther to be noted, that the Words meus, tuus, and suus, (which are not properly Epithets) are often brought into a Verse out of Idleness, only to fill it up, and make it flat and languid. Thus Ovid, in the Story of Phaeton,

And afterwards:

In the pentameter Verse these Pronouns, it is well known, are remarkably serviceable to constitute the last Foot; but it is one of the poorest Expedients that can be thought of!

I said that Homer's Faults were, perhaps, studiously imitated by the best Writers; for if Homer may at this Time of Day be criticized upon, it would be hard to assign a Reason for the Frequency of his Epithets, many of which are insignificant and superfluous, or to shew wherein consists the Elegance of these sort of Expressions, and innumerable others of the like Nature, that occur up and down in him[98].

These are Difficulties I only propose, not presuming to assert any Thing against the ancientest, and almost the Prince of Poets.

On the other Hand, they are under no less an Error, that will admit only of very few Epithets, and arrogantly banish the Use of them. It is certain, they are not only wonderfully adapted to Description, but so peculiarly to Poetry, that the Beauty of its Style chiefly consists in them. They exhibit to the Mind Ideas of Qualities in the Concrete, (as the Logicians speak) which strike the Imagination no less than those that are express'd in the Abstract. 'Tis plain, from what appears above, that the Writings of the best Poets are full of them, and particularly Virgil's. But tho' the Examples already alleg'd might seem sufficient, yet I beg Leave to add a very remarkable one, where every Substantive has its proper Epithet, to heighten and adorn the Sense. The Passage I mean is at the Beginning of the celebrated Description of the Infernal Shades:

We meet with but few Lines of this Poet free from Epithets; many have two, and some three: Nay, sometimes 'tis the Height of Elegance to join more to the same Substantive, without a Conjunction between: As,

A Style, therefore, destitute of Epithets, will gain no more Admirers, than a Body made up of nothing but Nerves and Bones: And as the Beauty of this consists in not being too much emaciated, nor yet over-charged with Flesh; so does that of the other in a just Proportion of these sort of Adjuncts, when they are neither wanting, nor too much abound. Verbs and Substantives I suppose to be in Style, what Bones and Nerves are in a Body; because they contain more Strength, tho' not more Beauty than Epithets; which therefore, whenever Emphasis and Energy is required, are totally omitted. Thus Virgil:

And again:

And at the Conclusion of that admirable Description of Æneas's Shield made by Vulcan, thus the divine Poet closes his eighth Book:

The last Verse is express'd with all the Strength and Weight imaginable, because without one Epithet. The Reason of this Effect seems to be, that Ideas in the Concrete are no more than Adjuncts of those in the Abstract; now that which supports, must needs be stronger than what is supported. To the same Purpose, when this is our Aim, all synonymous Expressions must be avoided; for the shorter and closer the Style, the stronger; but the Matter of it, by being spread among a Variety of Words, is thinned, and, consequently, weakened. The Poet, no doubt, is indulged much more in Epithets and Synonyma's, than the Orator; his Province consisting more peculiarly in Colouring, Description and Decoration. But both of them ought to take Care that these musical and bewitching Elegances are not too redundant; for a Style, whether in Prose or Verse, cannot be attended with a greater Fault than a verbose Luxuriance.

Some, thro' Ignorance of what an Epithet is, may be apt in their Reading to make a wrong Enumeration of them; for all Adjectives and Participles do not (as many think) come under this Appellation, but those only which are annex'd to Substantives, by way of Ornament and Illustration; not such as make up the essential Part of the Description. In the following Lines of Virgil,

there is not an Epithet; neither diverso, secreta, or obtecta, comes under that Denomination, but are Adjectives or Participles of the other Kind.

We come now to enumerate the different Kinds of Style made use of by Poets, and to shew briefly wherein they consist, and to what sort of Verse and Subject each is suitable. To begin, then, with that which is first in Dignity, and therefore ought to be so in Place; the sublime, I mean, whose Property it is to express lofty Ideas in no vulgar Strain, but with Words sonorous, pompous, and majestic. This Style is, in the first Place, proper for the Epic Poem; in the next, to some sort of Odes; after that, to Tragedy; then to the severer kind of Satire; and, in short, to all Poems of less Note, that partake of the Heroic, or the Buskin. There are others that make Excursions into it, such as the Georgics, and all of the Didactic, or Philosophical Kind, whenever they digress into a more noble Field of Matter, to which their Subject sometimes naturally leads them. But to Comedy, the lower kind of Satire, and Pastoral, it is never agreeable; to Elegy very seldom. In behalf of the first of these, that Place of Terence will be urged, which Horace seems to have had in his View, when he says,

But this Rage of Chremes, which Horace mentions, is not, perhaps, so much an Instance of a Comic Sublime, as of a borrowed Tragic Fury. In relation to Pastoral, if Virgil's fourth Eclogue be objected, I answer, that the Poet himself confesses he leaves his proper Subject for a more lofty one, and begins his Poem with a sort of an Apology for it:

Not that I suppose Pastoral totally to reject the Sublime, as I shall have Occasion to shew more fully hereafter.

For the present, I suppose, it will suffice to produce one or two Instances, out of innumerable, of the Style we are upon. In the second Æneid, Venus, shewing her Son what Gods were united for the Destruction of Troy, gives us this Specimen of it:

And a little after:

Again, a few Lines after:

And in the last Book, the Poet thus introduces Æneas going to engage with Turnus:

Instances of this Style fill every Page, almost, of the Æneis; and in the Odes of Horace are very frequent;

v. g. Claudian, tho' his Style is frequently too swelling, and borders upon the Bombast, yet often hits upon the true Sublime: Thus in the celebrated Description of the Victory which the Emperor Theodosius gained, by the Advantage of the Winds:

Between the Sublime of Virgil and Claudian there's a manifest Difference; the Ideas of the latter are not so just, nor the Diction so pure: He can only be said to be less faulty, when he writes best.

'Tis a remarkable Property of this Style, to be bold and figurative; to abound, especially, with Metaphors and Hyperboles; the Use of which requires great Care and Judgment. It is distinguish'd, on the one Hand, from the turgid, rumbling Bombast, which is much affected by those who are possess'd with a false Spirit of Poetry, and no true Judgment to direct it; and consists either of empty sounding Words, or unnatural Sentences, or absurd Metaphors, or rash Hyperbole's. There are innumerable Examples of it in Claudian; v. g.

In another Place:

And again:

So Statius, in the very Beginning of his Sylvæ:

To omit others, thus Casimire:

In another Place:

There are many other Instances of this kind in the same Poet; who seems to have been peculiarly delighted with this hard and unnatural Way of Writing.

The Sublime, on the other Hand, is distinguished from the Humble; which has its Elegance as it is used in its proper Place. It is proper, when we would describe, in a familiar and easy Manner, the common Concerns of Life; and agrees more especially with Comedy, the lower kind of Satire, and Epistles; and, as Occasion serves, may be admitted in all Sorts of Poems. Instances of it are very numerous:

It is needless to add any more: Terence's Comedies, and Horace's Satires and Epistles, consist entirely almost of this Style, and are abundant Proof of its Elegance.

The Style of Pastorals is likewise of the humble Kind, but still distinct from what I have now been instancing in. The one, as I said, is suited to Comedy, Satire, and Epistles; the other to Bucolics: The former represents common Life, and more especially as it appears within the City; the latter draws all its Images from the Country; that looser and freer, this sweeter and more elaborate. But of these Things more hereafter, when we come to treat of this delightful Species of Poetry separately. At present let it be observ'd, that there is a middle Kind of Style between the Sublime and the Humble, suitable to every Branch of Poetry. This of Ovid is a Specimen of it:

Innumerable are the Instances of this middle Style among the Poets, especially in Virgil's Georgics, which are chiefly writ in that Way. For it is to be particularly observ'd, that, because the Matter of a Poem is low, it by no means follows the Thoughts and Diction must be so too, and that there's no necessary Connexion between a common Subject and a vulgar Style. To prescribe Rules for Sowing, Harvest, and other Matters of Husbandry, is a slight Subject, but not therefore to be treated with the Unpoliteness of a Clown. Tho' the Poem be preceptive in its Nature, it may be elegant in its Manner; it may be employ'd upon Things of small Moment, yet they may be cloath'd with Ornament, and heighten'd by Description. But Comedy, and the looser kind of Satire, as they regard only the Manners of Men in common Life, are chiefly adapted to the low Style.

It then becomes faulty, when any Thing of a sublime Nature, at least above the common Level, is introduced with some low creeping Expression. Thus Ovid, where he speaks of the Council of the Gods:

And describing Phaeton run away with by the Horses of the Sun:[123]

And in the fourth Book, after he had described the Interview between Pyramus and Thisbe well enough,

he thus miserably concludes the Verse:

In another Place,

In the seventh Book:

Nothing can be more palpable than the Absurdities I have here produced: In Ovid they are almost unpardonable, who, as he wanted not Genius, must needs have fallen into them thro' gross Inadvertency and Supineness.

There's another Species of Style, called the Sarcastical and Invective, suited, as Reason will tell us, more peculiarly to Satire. But we shall no where find a more lively Instance of it than in Virgil:

Here, it is plain, the Mordacity lies in the Expression more than the Thought; which is no more than that the Shepherd mention'd was a miserable Piper; but the Words are emphatically cutting, in triviis, stridenti, miserum, stipula, disperdere; each of which is arm'd with Poignancy, and dresses out the Image with fresh Ridicule. On the other Hand, sometimes the Invective turns wholly upon the Thought; as in another Verse of Virgil:

A keener Satire cannot be conceived; but the Force of it consists in the Sense only; the Words, considered separately, have nothing of that Kind in them. The former, therefore, is the proper Instance of the Invective Style; because in the Style the whole Invective is contained. It may justly be wonder'd that I should fetch Examples of the Style and Thought of Satire, from a Poet endow'd by Nature with the sweetest Disposition, and led by his Subject to a very different Way of Writing: But he had a Genius so adapted to every Thing, that he could write Satire in spite of his own good Nature. These Examples are a sufficient Proof, that if he had turn'd his Thoughts that Way, he would have gain'd the Laurel from all other Competitors; and I must ingenuously confess, that, in my Mind, Juvenal himself has nothing more severe than this Virgilian Acrimony.

The Florid Style is set off with Tropes, Figures, and especially Metaphors. The Use and Abuse of these, I have already spoke of; to avoid Repetition, therefore, I would here only observe, That all Sorts of Poems admit of figurative Expressions, and receive fresh Ornament from them, when the Subject requires them, and Judgment is used in the Choice of them; but that this Style is suitable, in the first Place, to the sublimer Kind of Ode, and, in the next, to the Epic Poem.

A Style, likewise, is said to be easy or strong; short or diffuse; clear or obscure; sweet, soft, and fluent; or rough, and unpleasant. The several Properties of these, to what Subject, and to what Poem each is suitable, may be collected from this Dissertation, and the Examples produced; and are partly so self-evident, that all further Explication or Example would be needless. I only observe, in one Word, that a clear Style is never faulty, an obscure and an uncouth one always so; but that the easy or strong, the short or prolix, the loose or close, the brisk or slow, the sweet and soft, or the rough and harsh, are all of them sometimes proper, sometimes improper, according to the Subject Matter of the Poem they appear in. 'Tis farther to be observ'd, That the rough Style, artfully enrich'd with a few antiquated Words, has a certain Majesty in it, which adds a Grandeur to Tragedy especially, and a Sublimity to the Epic Poem: That this Liberty, however, is to be used with Judgment and Caution, lest it appear dull and stiff, instead of lofty and majestic. On the other Hand, that Elegies, particularly, and some sort of Pastorals, require the sweet and flowing Style, and utterly reject all Asperity: Lastly, That some of the Appellations by which Style is distinguish'd are applied to Thought likewise; as sublime, low, satirical, elegant, &c. and some of them not so: For a brisk or slow Thought, a concise or prolix Thought, &c. are Terms which the Schools are yet Strangers to.

Elegance enters into the Composition of every Style that has any Merit in it, pervades every Part, and is, as it were, the Soul to it. What Elegance is, and wherein it consists, has been already shewn, at the Entrance of this Dissertation.

But tho' every Kind of Poem has a Style peculiar to itself, yet we are not to preserve one even Course of Writing from the Beginning to the End, but to rise or fall, to be sweet or rough, to be concise or to expatiate, &c. according to the Variety of Matter into which our Subject leads us. Virgil, in that Description of Prodigies which I have before cited, sometimes uses the short Diction:

But in the next Words, where he is to express a great Inundation, he thus breaks out into an Exuberancy of Style:

It is a great Fault, to be always upon the Sublime: In those Poems, whose Subject leads them to be most so, some Things occur, that ought to be express'd in the plainest Diction, that scarce admit, much less require the lofty or the splendid.

Lastly, 'tis to be observed, that the Style of Comedy is not properly a poetical Style, but an elegant kind of Prose. It would be absurd if it were otherwise; since the Language of Comedy is to imitate familiar Discourse, and such as passes in common Conversation. For this Reason, some (as Horace tells us) have made a Doubt whether this Species of the Drama is to be accounted a Species of Poetry, or not:

'Tis Certain the Style of the ancient Comedy had nothing poetical in it but the Feet and Measure, and those very little different from Prose; and rejected all those Modes of Speech, which we have mention'd above as peculiar to Poetry. What, therefore, Comedy has in common with Poetry, does not consist in the Diction, but partly in the Measure, and chiefly in the Invention, the Conduct of the Plot, and the Disposal of the Parts.

I am very sensible a great Question may arise in relation to our Comedies, whether they are to be deem'd Poems, since they want those metrical Numbers, which in our former Dissertation we made essential to a Poem. This Question undoubtedly bears much harder upon our English Comedies, than upon the ancient Greek and Latin ones; which are manifestly writ in some certain Measure, tho' a loose one, and the nearest possible to Prose; but our's pretend to be nothing else but Prose, only with a Distich or two at the Conclusion of every Act. It may be question'd, likewise, on the other Hand, whether the French Poets are to be commended, who write entire Comedies not only in Ryme, but even Heroic Verse. These Doubts I shall at present wave, since a more proper Opportunity will offer to discuss them fully, when I make Comedy the Subject of an entire Dissertation.

As Style is my present Subject, and I shall make Thought my next; it may not be improper to inquire into the Relation between the Beauty of the one and the other, and what Connexion there is between writing well, and thinking justly, and how they mutually conspire to promote each other. This Enquiry is somewhat of a middle Nature between the Subject of our present Discourse and the following; and, like a Partition Wall, may serve to join, and yet divide them.

I lay it down for a Rule, that no one can write clearly, or elegantly, that does not think so. If you are obscure to yourself, you must have great good Luck indeed, if you are perspicuous to others. And if your Thought is bad, shining Language only serves to make both ridiculous. 'Tis like dressing up a disagreeable Person in rich Cloaths, which receive Disgrace from the Wearer, and make his Deformity more contemptible. On the other Hand, 'tis scarce possible, but he whose Thoughts are clear and bright, will be so in his Style too, provided he is well vers'd in the best Authors, and Master of the Language he writes in. When we speak or write, our Thoughts break forth, like the Light, diffuse themselves around, and, by their natural Force, enter the Minds of our Hearers or Readers, as that does the Eyes of the Beholders. Words (if we may believe Quintilian) almost necessarily follow a clear Imagination, as the Shadow does a Substance. And if once we have a Conception of any Thing beautiful or sublime, suitable Expressions will arise, if we think proper to make use of them. If we think proper, I say, to make use of them; for it is not to be supposed, that the one will necessarily accompany the other, whether we will let them or not, or that Quintilian meant to extend the Necessity so far. It is possible the Thoughts may be beautiful and sublime, and the Words, out of Choice, plain and simple; and the Plainness of these may sometimes not only shew, but add to the Sublimity of those. To this Purpose Longinus cites that short Narration of the divine Historian, as a remarkable Instance of Sublimity: And God said, Let there be Light, and there was Light. So Horace:

And Virgil:

In which, and many other Places, the Words are without Ornament, but the Thought sublime. Thus Beauty sometimes appears the most amiable in its native Charms, and unaffected Neatness: Thus Majesty has been seen to beam forth the strongest when all the Ensigns of it have been laid aside, and it stood supported by its own Strength. Words, then, are to the Thought, what Cloaths are to the Body; what I have to say farther upon this Head, shall be illustrated by this Comparison.

On the other Hand, there are many sublime and beautiful Thoughts that require Words of the same Nature; they appear pitiful without them, and fall short of their proper Dignity. Witness those Instances we have produced from Ovid of the creeping Style, and many more might be produced. Thus frequently, I may say generally, rich Attire, and costly Ornaments, add to the Beauty even of the most beautiful; and Kings who appear by Nature formed for Majesty, display it usually to most Advantage, when deck'd with the Imperial Purple.

But tho' the Thoughts may be beautiful or sublime, while the Words that express them are plain and simple; yet the Rule will not hold inverted: Words can have neither Beauty, nor Sublimity, unless the Thoughts have both. I mean true Beauty, and true Sublimity; because if these are wanting in the Thought, that Sparkling which appears in the Diction, is only a false Light; as fine Cloaths are no longer fine when bestowed upon some dishonest Form; they are far from being an elegant Dress, when they ill become the Wearer. And if the Thought, in this Case, is not sublime, all the Magnificence of Diction is ridiculous Affectation, and mere Bombast. Only one Kind of Poem ought to be excepted; which tho' it has no Latin Name, is well enough known in all the modern Languages of Europe: The Doggrel Kind I mean; which abounds much in an ingenious Liberty of Jesting, and dressing up little Things in pompous Words. But in all serious Writing, this Rule holds universally.

But tho' beautiful Expressions cannot make the Thought beautiful, yet they strongly recommend its Beauty, and even improve it; as Dress and Ornament cannot create a Face, yet they may assist its Charms, and add to those that Nature has bestow'd upon it. In Proof of this, I might produce innumerable Examples that are to be met with every where in the Writings of the best Poets. When Virgil had excellently described the broken and shattered Condition of Sergestus's Ship, which we mention'd above, it was undoubtedly a beautiful Thought to compare it working along with one Bank of Oars, to the labour'd Motion of a wounded Serpent. But how does the Poet heighten the Beauty of the Comparison in the following Manner of describing it?

Aristæus's Entrance into the subterraneous Grotto's of the Water Nymph Cyrene, is thus described by the same Poet:

The Thought, the Fiction, is perfectly beautiful; but who is so blind, as not to see that these poetical Ideas receive no small Embellishment from the Elegance of the Expression; or so dull, as not to love and admire both the Art and Ingenuity of the Writer? We see, then, that the Elegance of Thought is much promoted by that of Diction; and this is true of all Sorts of Thought, as well the beautiful, as the sublime, but more particularly of that which consists of Comparison and Description. On the other Hand, that the Elegance and Sublimity of Thought conduces much to the Elegance and Sublimity of Expression, is too clear to need either Proof or Example; Thought being, as it were, the Life of Words, and (as the Schoolmen speak) that which gives them their essential Form. Upon the whole, then, beautiful Thoughts and Expressions mutually help and adorn each other, as a goodly Personage and a rich Attire. Wherein consists the Beauty of Thought, shall be the Subject of our next Enquiry.

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In our former Dissertation we treated of the Style of Poetry: From Words we pass on to Things, and propose to speak of the Beauty of Thought; to shew wherein the Elegance and Sublimity of it consists; the Reason and Foundation of it; and to enumerate its different Species.

Every one must be sensible, as well as myself, what a difficult Subject I engage in. If therefore I sometimes err, in so abstruse a Path, I trust I have a prevailing Plea for your Pardon.

In the preceding Dissertation we have abundantly shewn, that the Diction of Poetry is very different from that of Prose; but between the Thought of the one and the other (excepting only Fiction) the Difference is not so great. What, therefore, I shall say upon this Head, will, for the most part, be in common both to the Poet and the Orator; for the Beauty of Thought is generally the same, whether it is express'd in Verse or Prose. But because Poetry is our Province, I judged it proper to produce the Examples that illustrate my Subject, from the Writings of the best Poets.

Writers have taken much Pains to give us a complete Definition of Thought; and some have openly declar'd, that it is not capable of a Definition. Among these, our Countryman Cowley bears the first Place, who directly asserts, that Wit (for that is the Word we often use for those Expressions that are the Effect of it) can only be defin'd in negative Terms. But (with the Leave of the Learned) this Word, and the Idea affix'd to it, is as capable of a positive and adequate a Definition, as many others which we define the most logically, and boast of having the clearest Notion of. Wit, then, in the largest Sense of the Word, seems to be nothing else, but a Thought formed so agreeably to Nature and right Reason, and impressed upon the Mind with such Clearness, Vivacity, and Dignity, as excites Pleasure or Admiration.

Wit we take, as we said, in its largest Extent. For it is not here understood in that vulgar and narrow Sense by which it denotes only Jokes and pointed Turns; but contains every Conception of the Mind that is beautiful; whatever Elegance or Sublimity the Imagination is capable of.

A Thought formed agreeably to Nature and right Reason, is, in this Definition, the Genus; what follows contains the Difference. By the former Part of the Definition we understand a Thought that is founded upon solid and just Principles, which is twofold, either a Thought simply consider'd, or a beautiful Thought. Every ingenious Thought, then, is well founded, but every Thought that is well founded, is not an ingenious one.

It was necessary to make this the Genus of the Definition, that true Wit might be distinguish'd from false. Thoughts of real Beauty are always form'd upon Truth, Nature, and right Reason. If they are not built upon this Foundation, or flow from a less noble Spring, they are to be rank'd among those false Brillants, as they are term'd by our modern, and especially the French, Writers, which may serve to please Boys, and some others of as little Judgment, but will always be despis'd by Men of Taste, and of Understanding, who adhere to the infallible Maxim laid down by Horace:

Thoughts are the Images of Things, as Words are of Thoughts; and we all know that Images and Pictures are only so far true, as they are true Representations of Men and Things. Those Passages in Virgil, Terræque, urbesque recedunt, and the like, where Things are represented not as they are, but as they seem to be, are no Objection to what I advance. For Poets, as well as Painters, think it their Business to take the Likeness of Things from their Appearance. When they do this, their Thoughts are just, according to the strictest Rules of Reason; for in Description or Painting that is truly express'd, which is express'd as the Thing appears to be. Neither Metaphors, Hyperboles, Ironies, nor even equivocal Expressions, when properly used, nor Fiction or Fable, are any Deviation from this Rule of right Thinking: For there is a wide Difference between Falseness and Fiction, between that which is truly false, (if I may so speak) and that which is only so in Appearance. Tropes and Fictions are raised, as it were, upon the Foundation of right Reason. Truth is the Basis of them, and receives new Lustre from such airy Disguises. All this will be sufficiently plain in the Sequel of this Dissertation, and from the Examples to be produced in it. But, in the first Place, it may not be improper to give one or two Instances of false Wit; that so we may settle the Difference between what is true, and counterfeit.

We frequently meet with Passages that want even common Sense, and yet have somewhat of a ridiculous Brightness in them. A certain Poet gives us a miserable Description of the Fate of Pyramus and Thisbe, and tells us, that the Sword, when died with the Blood of the unhappy Lover, blush'd, from a Consciousness of its Crime. No,[139] rather let the unhappy Writer blush, from a deep Sense of that Elegance which Boys would be asham'd to own. Another of the same Form, I know not his Name, tells us, that Lovers always abound with Wit, because Venus sprung from the salt Ocean. It would be endless to mention all the Turns of this sort, which take their Rise from the feign'd Names or Adjuncts of the Heathen Deities.

Modern Writers, all over Europe, are many of them wonderfully fond of these sort of Trifles, especially in their Epigrams and Love-Verses. And some cannot refrain from them even in their larger Compositions. Several of our Top Poets of the former Age, (for in the present these kind of Witticisms are in less Request) abound much with these shining Spots: Nor are the Ancients, (I instance in Ovid) wholly free from them. I can't help here observing, what an inexhaustible Fund of Conceits our modern Poets are supplied with from the Eyes of the Fair Sex; which, as they are the fruitful Parents of various Mischiefs, so are they, likewise, it seems, of spurious Wit.

There is another Species of Thought which does not, like the former, deviate from Truth and right Reason, yet is a Violation of the Laws of Beauty and Accuracy, and is an Instance of false Wit, tho' not of false Conception. In the Troas of Seneca, Hecuba lamenting that the Body of Priamus should lie unburied, thus expresses her Grief:

How poor a Thought, upon so great and sublime a Subject? How childish a Reflection, that while Troy was all in Flames, the Body of Priamus should want Funeral ones? How much better does Virgil describe the very same Circumstance?

Here every Thing is great, full of Majesty, and suitable to the Subject. The Poet knew better than to sport with Conceits upon so solemn an Occasion; tho' Ovid is perpetually hunting after them: But this is never Virgil's Fault; and ought to have been as studiously avoided by Seneca: For Tragedy is of as sublime a Nature as Epic.

That celebrated Passage of Lucan, at first Appearance, I confess, sounds great:

The Assertion is true, but the Wit is false. It is applied to the Soldiers that died in the Field, and lay unburied: And tho' we should grant that the Heavens and the Stars were Materials of greater Value than Brass and Marble; yet they are a kind of Monument, that, like Death itself, is common to all; and, in spite of this Stoical Maxim of the Poet, all Mankind must think it more honourable to be laid at Rest in a Grave, than expos'd to Birds and Beasts, who at last may boast of the same Canopy of the Sky, that these unburied Heroes enjoy'd.

Sometimes it happens, that there is a Mixture of true Thought and false; or the Conception is partly one, partly the other. Thus in that noted Epigram by a Modern:

The Epigram seems elegant, and is really so; but the different Parts of it are not perfectly reconcileable. For if Strephon and Phyllis exceeded the Gods in Beauty, what great Wonder is it, he should become Cupid, she Venus? Besides, 'tis absurd to suppose that he should be either willing, or able to transfer his Eye to his Sister. There is, however, in these Lines a true epigrammatic Spirit; and nothing can have more of it than the last of them. For as in Reasoning a true Conclusion may be drawn from false Premises; so in Writing an elegant Thought may flow from false Wit. I would not have it objected, that I here draw a Comparison between Things that are no way allied; for all Beauty, not only in the argumentative Way of Writing, but even in polite Literature, depends upon the Rules of Logic, and strict Reasoning.

The Passages I have here produced are a few Instances of false Eloquence. Wit, therefore, differs from a plain solid Thought, as a polish'd Diamond from a rough one; and as that does not cease to be a Diamond by being polish'd, so a Thought loses nothing of its Solidity by its Elegance. We all know, that a Diamond is not less distinguish'd from other Stones by its Solidity, than its Lustre: The Difference, therefore, between true and false Wit, is much the same as between the Gems of the East, and those of our British Rocks.

Some Verses I have known (but not by what Means) that owe all their Success to popular Applause, and ill-grounded Fame, instead of Merit. No one can be a Stranger to the celebrated Epigram of Sanazarius upon the City of Venice; and who shall now dare to question its Title to Fame, after so long a Prescription?

I submit with humble Deference to the Judgment of the Learned; but, if I may freely speak my Sentiments, I have often wonder'd at the good Fortune of Sanazarius, who, by six empty Verses, got not only so great a Name, but (which is more substantial) so great a Sum of Money. The Verses, indeed, are smooth and harmonious; they have the outward Appearance of an Epigram, and contain a poetical Fiction of Jupiter and Neptune: But take away these (and these, without somewhat else, signify little) what else, in the Name of Elegance, does the Poet tell us, but that Venice is preferable to Rome? In naked and simple Terms he says, that the former looks more like the Work of the Gods, than the latter. Where is the Acumen, the Wit, or the Turn? The Shell, indeed, of an Epigram, we see; but not so much as the Shadow of Wit.

The first, and principal Species of Wit, is, undoubtedly, that which does not depend on poetical Fiction, but upon Truth itself. What the French Poet[144] says upon this Head, in the Preface to his Works, is very just; and I think I cannot do better than give you his Sentiments in an English Dress. "Now, if any Man asks me, says he, what this Agreeableness and this Salt is? I answer, That it is a Je ne sçay quoy, that may be better conceiv'd than describ'd. But yet, in my Opinion, it principally consists in offering nothing to the Reader but true Thoughts, and just Expressions. The Mind of Man is naturally full of an infinite Number of confus'd Ideas of Truth, which he often-times perceives but by Halves; and nothing pleases him more, than when any of these Ideas are presented to him well illustrated, and set in a good Light. What is a new brillant, extraordinary Thought? It is not, as the Ignorant persuade themselves, a Thought which no Body ever had, nor ought to have. But, on the contrary, a Thought which every Body ought to have had, and which some one bethinks himself of expressing first. Wit is not Wit, but as it says something every Body thought of, and that in a lively, delicate, and new Manner. Let us consider, for Example, the famous Reply of Lewis XII. to some of his Ministers, who advised him to punish several Persons that in the former Reign (when he was only Duke of Orleans) had made it their Business to prejudice him, A King of France, says he, revenges not the Injuries done to a Duke of Orleans. How comes this Saying to strike us so suddenly? Is it not plainly, because it presents to our Eyes a Truth which all the World is sensible of, and which expresses better than all the finest Discourses of Morality, That a great Prince, after his Accession to the Throne, ought no longer to act by private Movements, nor to have any other View but the Glory and general Good of his Kingdom?" Thus far that celebrated Author, who seems very happily to have illustrated the Subject we are upon.

We have many elegant Thoughts, likewise, founded upon Truth, with a Mixture of poetical Fiction; as in that Epigram of Martial address'd to Lucifer, the Night before Cæsar's Return to Rome: After the first Invocation,

At some Distance he adds:

He then subjoins:

'Tis an undoubted Truth, that Time seems long to those that are big with Expectation. The Poet, therefore, having, for this Reason, chid the Tardiness of the Moon and Stars, nothing could be more elegant, than from this very Circumstance to take a further Occasion of complimenting the Prince, by finding out another Reason of their Delay; viz. that those bright Attendants (for the Poet suppos'd them endow'd with Sense) stay'd the longer, that they might be the happy Spectators of Cæsar's triumphal Entry. He then gives a new Turn to his Reflections, and thus concludes the Epigram:

This is ingenious enough, but a little of the boldest. The Prince of Lyric Poets is more modest upon the same Occasion:

He does not say the Approach of Cæsar would restore the Day, but only increase it; that is, would add to its Gaiety and Lustre: And true it is, that Men whose Breasts are fill'd with Joy, think every Thing about them partakes of that Quality.

There are other Thoughts, which tho' founded more upon poetical Fiction than the former, yet come into the Number of true and elegant ones. Thus our foremention'd Martial, in his Epitaph upon Canace, after having beautifully describ'd the Disease of which the Lady died, in the following Verses:

Thus goes on:

These Kinds of Fictions, tho' very numerous, are no ways repugnant to Reason, and have not only a Claim to our Pardon, but to our Praise and Imitation.

In these, and the like Instances, the great Care is, to have Truth for the Foundation of what we afterwards advance. As we see it is in the Example produced from Martial. We are allow'd in strictest Reason to describe others Merit, or our own Grief, in Terms a little heighten'd: If the Lady, then, whose Death the Poet laments, had, in reality, a soft and melting Voice, he might justly say it was persuasive enough to have restrained the Hand of Fate, could it but have found an Utterance: But Death, fearful of its Power, had seiz'd that Passage, and cut off the Force of Eloquence. Thus far a Poet may be allow'd to proceed; but, in good Truth, very little farther. He treads here, as it were, upon a Precipice; and this Expression of Martial, is, perhaps, the utmost Bound of poetic Truth; the next may carry him into the Ocean of false Thought. However, this is certain, that all these ingenious Devices must be built upon something that has an Existence in Nature, and that it is absurd to make Fiction the Basis, and the Superstructure too; as they do, more especially, who from the Heathen Mythology supply us with Fable in great abundance. The antiquated Stories of the Heathen Gods ought to afford Matter only for Comparison and Allusion, and even then ought to be brought in with Caution, and to be mention'd only as Beings once suppos'd to have an Existence. In short, even the lightest Excursions of Wit ought to be founded upon Reality; and those empty Trifles are justly contemn'd, which are neither Panegyric nor Satire, neither illustrate nor explain any Thing, but the wonderful Acuteness of the Writer. Tho' a beautiful Composition of Thought and Words is the greatest Master-piece of Nature, yet 'tis possible for an Oration, or Poem, to be too full of them, tho' never so much diversified. Whatever Subject, therefore, you endeavour to adorn, let not your Poem be loaded with Wit. Jewels have always been in Esteem, and ever will be so; yet to see a Garment disfigur'd all over with different Sorts of them, would be matter of Ridicule, rather than Admiration; and the most elegant Epicure would be but little pleas'd with an Entertainment that consisted of nothing else but Dainties. The same Rule is not less applicable to Poetry, than Prose; the Reason of it holds equally in both. Poetry, indeed, admits of greater Ornament, but right Reason always abhors Luxury, whether in Prose or Verse. The too great Plenty of whatever is exquisite, does not gratify, so much as satiate both the Senses and the Understanding; and what in itself is valuable, by Super-abundance becomes ridiculous. By this faulty kind of Writing the Mind is depriv'd of that Refreshment and Recreation it takes in passing to and fro from Things that are excellent, to those that are less so; and of that Delight which springs from Surprize; neither of which it is capable of, where all Things appear with undistinguish'd Lustre. 'Tis a foolish Ambition, therefore, to work up all the beautiful Thought and Diction you can possibly croud together. We ought always, indeed, to avoid in both whatever is mean or vulgar, and, as Longinus[148] says, is below the Dignity of the Subject; to be always, I say, above the Populace, tho' sometimes plain, and without Ornament. It is impossible for a Writer, from the Nature of his Subject, to be upon the Sublime from one End to the other: Some Things must occur, that require the common Style, but if they did not, the Rule ought still to be observ'd, for the Reasons I have before alledg'd. Let Authors take Example from Nature, who diversifies the great Poem of the World with Spring and Summer. In each Season, 'tis true, all Things appear pleasant; but how much less would they be so, nay, how distasteful, if the Fields were cover'd with nothing else but Flowers? Vivid and smiling they are throughout, but not all over beset with Nosegays. Flowers grow in their proper and peculiar Soil; so the Ornaments of a Poem should seem naturally to arise out of the Matter of it, not forced by Labour, but promoted only by proper Culture. We ought, indeed, to imitate Art, and it is no mean Specimen of it, when we intermix these Beauties so skilfully, that they mutually correspond, and set off each other; in the same Manner that the Florist disposes his party-colour'd Beds, and the Nymph her odorous Garlands.

Afterwards,

Beauty in Writing may be consider'd as twofold: Either the Elegant, or Sublime. The latter is manifestly distinct from the former; for there may be Elegance often, where there is no Sublimity; but it may be question'd, on the other Hand, whether every Thing sublime is not elegant. To me, indeed, it seems not so; or, if we must determine otherwise, it must be said, that Elegance join'd with Sublimity is often a different Species of Elegance. Whatever, indeed, is sublime, is beautiful. So Pallas is describ'd by the Poets, but with a Beauty peculiar to herself, awful, majestic, surrounded with an amiable Grandeur, quite different from the Charms of Venus, who is possess'd with all the soft Attractives, who is all over elegant, but very little sublime. But however this Question be determined, in the Sequel of this Discourse I shall examine into the Properties of each of these Beauties distinctly, and afterwards join'd together.

That noble and happy Sublimity of Thought, which by Longinus is termed,[151] το περι ταϛ νοησειστσ ἁδρεπηβολον, is impossible to be learn'd by Precept: 'Tis the Gift of Nature only, tho' it may be much assisted by Art. This peculiar Turn of Mind Virgil thus at once describes, and remarkably exemplifies:

He shews us he is abundantly endow'd with that Strength of Imagination he pretends to want, and at the same Time gives us a Specimen of it.

The same must be said of that Fire and Energy in Poetry, which Longinus calls[153] το σφοδρον, και ενθουσιαστικον παθοϛ, viz. that it is owing to the Indulgence of Nature, and to be regulated only, not acquir'd by Precept. All we can do, is to produce some Examples of it, and make a few Observations upon them. The first shall be that of Virgil, in the sixth Æneis, where the Poet displays the sacred Rage of the Sibyl, and his own:

And after Æneas had ended his Supplication to her:

And lastly, at the End of the Sibyl's Answer:

This is one Species of poetic Pathos, or Enthusiasm; viz. which consists in the Marvellous, and raises Admiration, by impressing upon the Mind something great, unusual, and portentous, and is styled by the Greeks ὁρμη, by the Latins Impetus, or furor poeticus. There are other Kinds of it, which excite Grief, Pity, Terror, and work upon the other Passions. If the Spirit of the Poet is most admir'd in the former, the Reader's is at least as much affected by the latter. And since it is the great Art of Poetry to work upon the Passions, it may not be improper to dwell a little upon this Branch of it. How sweet is that Complaint of Phyllis to Demophoon, in Ovid? How wonderfully adapted to move Compassion?

No one was a greater Master of this Secret than Ovid; none understood Nature more than he, or express'd her various Conflicts better: And he has left us abundance of Instances of it in his Epistles and Metamorphoses. To pass over others, I shall produce only that Passage where he describes the Passion of Medea for Jason:

After this, the Poet wonderfully describes the dubious Strife between Love and Shame, Reason and Affection, as he does in many other Places. I know, very well, that Objections have been rais'd against this very Passage I have cited, and that Ovid is compar'd with Apollonius Rhodius and Virgil, even upon these Topics, much to his Disadvantage. I can't deny but that when he does best, he often falls short of that Sublimity in which he was naturally deficient; that when he shines most, he generally abounds with an unhappy Luxuriancy of Thought, disagreeable Repetitions, unseasonable and absurd Conceits; that his Style is loose and incorrect: However, let him have his due Praise, let him be allow'd to draw the Out-lines of Nature truly, tho' he does not keep accurately to every Feature of her.

But if you want Perfection upon this Head, consult Virgil, who, as he excels in all other Kinds of Writing, so, especially, in describing and moving the Passions, in the fourth Æneis especially; which may with Justice be styled an Epic Tragedy. And since no Age, Nation, or Language, has yet produced a Work that lays open so wonderfully the various Tumults of the Soul; I shall perform, perhaps, no disagreeable Office, if I lay before you an Epitome of this Part of it, so far as relates to the Passions.

In the Beginning, the unfortunate Queen, in Conversation with her Sister, thus discovers the Effects of Love:

And a few Lines after:

Now Shame, on the other Hand, exerts its Power, and claims to be heard, in Opposition to Love:

She then complains of Æneas's concealing his Departure; she expostulates with him of the Injury he intended her; and full, at the same Time, of Fear and Grief, she thus endeavours to work upon his Compassion:

But as soon as she hears Æneas openly declare his firm Resolution, from Tears and Intreaties she bursts out into Passion, Rage, and Phrenzy:

Throughout the whole Speech (every Line of which is beautiful beyond all Comparison) she exclaims, interrogates, calls Gods and Men to witness, loads her Lover with Threats and Curses; in short, the Tempest of her Soul runs so high, as if it never more would know a Calm. What, then, says Dido, when she appears next?

After this, she implores, conjures her Sister to be her Mediator in this momentous Affair, and to convey to Æneas her softest Entreaties; than which, nothing can be more pathetic, and adapted to move Compassion:

In the foregoing Speech she broke out into these Reproaches:

But in what different Terms does she expostulate in this?

Before, she had thus express'd her Rage:

Behold, now, another Strain!

That Man must be as void of Sense, as of Humanity, that does not feel in himself the strongest Emotions of Pity and Admiration, of Grief and Pleasure, when he reads so moving a Complaint; than which, I may venture to pronounce, there is not a greater Master-piece, either in Art or Nature.

I might justly fear lying under the Imputation of Prolixity in citing these Passages, if the Beauty of them did not compensate for their Number. As no one ever touch'd the Passions like Virgil, you'll forgive the Liberty I have taken in recalling to your Mind so many pleasing Instances of his Power.

What Longinus calls[170] φαντασιαι, and others, as he tells us, ειδωλοποιιαι the Roman Writers style Visions, or Imaginations, and the modern Images. These, then, operate, "when (as Longinus[171] speaks) a Man has so strong an Imagination of the Things he describes, that he seems to be in Transport, as it were, to behold them with his own Eyes, and places them before those of his Hearers." What Longinus adds immediately afterwards, in relation to these Images, I must confess I don't rightly comprehend, or (with all Deference to so great Authority) I cannot assent to. Ὁϛ δ' ἑτερου τι ἡ ῥητορικη φαντασια βουλεται, και ἑτερον ἡ παρα ποιηταιϛ, ουκ αν λαθοι σε. Ουδ' ὁτι τηϛ μεν εν ποιησει τελοϛ εστιν εκπληξιϛ, τηϛ δ' εν λογοιϛ εναργεια Which Tollius thus paraphrastically translates: "You cannot be ignorant, I suppose, that Oratorical Visions intend one Thing, and Poetical another; that the Aim of the latter is to affect the Hearers with Terror; of the former to express every Thing so strongly, that it may be rather seen, than heard by the Audience. The one we may properly call Evidence, or Illustration; the other Consternation, or Amazement." I own, I say, this is what I cannot well digest; for neither is it true that the Images, which Poetry impresses, affect us with Terror only, for all Sorts of Images are impress'd by Poetry; nor is it the peculiar Property of Oratory to express every Thing so strongly, that it may be rather seen, than heard by the Audience; since Poetry has a much larger Share in this Province than Oratory. The only Difference between them in this Particular is, that all Images are impress'd more strongly by the one; but all are truly impress'd by both. This is a Difficulty in Longinus, which not one of his numerous Commentators has touch'd upon. If, therefore, I am fallen into any Mistake, I hope I shall be the easier pardoned, as I have none of the Helps of the Learned to conduct me out of it. But however that be, all are agreed that the Images excited, both by Oratory and Poetry, strike the Mind with a sudden Force. To prove this, Longinus recites the Speech of Orestes[172], where he cries out, that he sees his Mother and the Furies stand before him; which Virgil has wonderfully imitated, in the following Passage:

As I have occasionally mention'd this remarkable Place, it may not be amiss to observe, that Images are no where better impress'd, than throughout that Description, where Dido is represented under the Conflicts of Love, and dismay'd with Prodigies. I shall only cite one Part of it, and the rather, because it contains a mere intellectual Idea not subject to the Senses, which yet is as clearly impress'd, as if it were the proper Object of them: An infallible Proof of the Skill of the Painter.

To conclude; in a word, every Conception of the Mind, join'd to a beautiful Description, is an Image. I cannot produce a better Proof of this, than that Passage in Homer, where Astyanax shrinks at the Sight of his Father array'd in Armour.

To which may be added, the following Description of Virgil, out of innumerable others:

And that Night Piece of his, in the seventh Æneis, where we see the Ship under Sail, by Moon-shine:

It would be entering upon too large a Field, to enquire into all the Variations, and Turns of Thought and Style, which Verse and Prose are capable of: Such as, Interrogations, Exclamations, the different Disposition of Tropes and Figures, the elegant Repetition of Words, the no less elegant Abruptness in Sentences, the Want of Connexion, Apostrophe, Prosopopœia, the Change of Numbers, Persons, Cases, Tenses; and a Multitude of other Incidents, which are reducible to Thought, as well as Style. Since the Variety of these is as infinite, as their Elegance is exquisite, it is impossible to explain them all by Rules, or illustrate them by Example. Longinus has mentioned some few, and our modern Books of Rhetoric are full of them. But the Want of Precept will be abundantly compensated to the Learner, by a good Taste, and a diligent Application to the Study of the best Authors.

Among the many Embellishments of Writing, few are attended with greater Beauty than Antitheta. The Reason is obvious, because Contraries illustrate, and recommend each other by Comparison. Of this the following Passage in Virgil is a remarkable Instance; where we have a beautiful Irony and Antithesis, at the same Time:

Near a-kin to it, is that Antithesis in Ovid:

When the Thoughts are thus set against each other, they appear with Energy, and strike the Mind with redoubled Force.

Another Elegance in a Writer, is to convey the whole of his Idea to the Reader, by expressing only some Circumstances of it.

Thus Virgil describes Dido killing herself: An inferior Poet, no doubt, would have represented her in the fatal Act, rushing upon the Sword with all her Strength, the Blood gushing out, and that Part of her Body which receiv'd the Wound expos'd to View. But how much better are all these passed over, and suggested to us only by their Adjuncts and Effects? There is another Example, of this kind, in the fourth Georgic, which is truly wonderful:

How concise, and ingenious! This Artifice of insinuating only the Sense to the Reader, is so useful in Epigram, that the whole Thought often turns upon it. Thus in that of Martial:

The Turn, you see, is witty, and facetious! But how poor a Joke had it been, if the Poet had only said, however true it was, that the Clothes which Zoilus wore were not his own? But I fear, I transgress the very Rule I am recommending: I shall therefore add no more, than only to remind the Reader, that what I have said under another Head[184], might more properly come under this, viz. That the Mind of Man does not love to have too minute a Detail of Particulars; but takes a Pleasure in having Room for Imagination, and in forming a Judgment of what is not express'd, from what is.

And since I have casually mention'd Transitions, I would here observe, that the Elegance of them is equal to their Difficulty: The great Secret consists either in digressing of a sudden to some new Subject, and giving the Reader the Pleasure of a Surprize; and yet continuing on the Thread of the Discourse so artfully, that he may admire a Connection, where, at first, there seem'd to be none: Or in such a gradual Transition from Thought to Thought, of near Affinity with each other, that the Mind may be imperceptibly led to a very different Subject, without being sensible of the intermediate Steps of the Digression. Thus, in the Rainbow, the neighbouring Colours are so like each other, that 'tis hard to say where this ends, or that begins; yet there's a wide Difference, if we leave out the intermediate Shades, and compare the Rays of the two Extremes. My Meaning, perhaps, will appear clearer from Example. Horace begins his 29th Ode, of the third Book, in the following Manner:

And concludes it thus:

Between the Beginning and Ending, consider'd in themselves, how wide a Difference? And yet, if we examine the Gradation of Thought thro' the whole Ode, we shall see the most elegant Connection. In the Beginning, the Poet invites his Statesman Friend to Supper: "I have prepared every Thing for your Reception, says he; leave, for a While, the City, the Business and Riches of it; 'tis a Pleasure often to Men of high Station, to partake of the Change of Low Life. Forget Politics for a While, and be not over anxious for the Nation's Welfare. Providence conceals Futurity from us Mortals: Let us therefore, in Prudence, make the best of the present; all else is carry'd down by the Stream of Time, and what is past returns no more. Fortune is fickle; I am pleas'd, when she smiles; but disregard her Frowns, contented with Poverty and Virtue. Care is the inseparable Attendant of Riches; I compound to want the one, that I may be secure from the other. I have no Business, when Storms roar, to fall into Tears," &c. Behold a Chain connected, and yet conceal'd with the greatest Art.

Sometimes it is necessary that the Transition should appear open, and design'd; but often otherwise. In the following Passage, we shall see a Specimen of either Sort; I mean, of the formal, and of the sudden Transition. Turnus having, in the eleventh Æneis, had a good many Words with Drances, and in great Passion thrown out these, among the rest,

thus turns his Discourse to the King:

Reverence due to Majesty requir'd that Turnus should direct his Discourse from Drances to the King, by some solemn Address. But after dextras tendamus inermes, to Quanquam ô! si solitæ quicquam virtutis adesset, the Transition is sudden, and unexpected. The Mind, by this Means, is transported from one Contrary to another; a sure Indication of the Force of Eloquence, and of its powerful Operation on its Hearers.

In Narrations 'tis no small Art to make a Transition from one Fact to another: Several Instances of this, we have in Ovid's Metamorphoses, the Nature of which Work requir'd them; where the Connection, indeed, is sometimes neat and artful, sometimes hard and forced, not to say ridiculous.

Under this Head we may reckon those Excursions of another kind, in which the Poet, by some sudden Allusion or Comparison, diverts from his Subject to a new Matter, and immediately returns to it again. I shall explain myself better by Example. Juvenal, describing the various Inconveniencies of the City, mentions these, among the rest:

His Intent, as I said, was to recount the Disadvantages of a City Life; and mentioning, among them, the Obstructions in the Streets, from Chairs and Coaches, he takes Occasion, by the bye, to reproach the Sloth and Laziness of Drusus. So again, enumerating the Miseries of Old Age, he adds:

These Excursions are chiefly suitable to Satire; and there's no Branch of it attended with greater Wit and Poignancy.

I have not Room here, to treat of Comparisons in the Manner they deserve; they being so various, that they would require an entire Dissertation. When they are ill drawn, nothing is more ridiculous; when well, nothing more beautiful. No kind of Style is excluded from them, and they are not only an Ornament, but often an Illustration of the Subject. They ought always to appear natural, never forced, or far fetch'd. Avoid, therefore, the Fault of those Writers, who find out what they call Similies first, and afterwards Matter to apply to them. Not that they are guilty of it, whose Comparisons don't in every Respect coincide with what they were brought to illustrate. Even the most elegant of them agree sometimes with the Description but in one Adjunct. Thus Virgil, in the eighth Æneis:

Upon a nice Scrutiny, the Parallel between Love and Thunder will hold but very little: And yet no good Judge, I believe, will dispute the Elegance of the above Comparison.

On this Head our Moderns seem to excel the Ancients, and to have found out an Use of Comparisons which they were utter Strangers to. Theirs are merely ornamental; ours often contain the Points of Epigram, the Jibes of Satire, and the Banters of Comedy; an Art which Ovid, Martial, Juvenal, Horace and Terence knew very little of. It will not be allow'd me to produce Instances here; but innumerable I could produce, if a Mixture of different Languages, and especially of our own, would not sound disagreeable in these Latin Dissertations[189]. 'Tis true, Tragic and Epic Poets ought totally to avoid these witty Allusions; which are below the Severity of their Style, and the Dignity of their Compositions. The Comparisons that serve for Illustration only, come within their Province; such as we meet with very frequently in Homer and Virgil: Tho' (to say the Truth) even the best Writers among the Ancients seem on this Head to labour under a Poverty of Matter. In the Description of a Battle, for Instance, the Similes of a Lion, a Bull, a Serpent, an Eagle, and other Animals of the fiercer kind, recur too frequently under some small Variations. But in After-Ages the Increase of Arts, and Sciences, and of Religion more particularly, open'd a new Field, which has minister'd abundantly not only to the Emolument of Mankind in general, but in this, and in all other Respects, to the Refinement of Wit.

If I must give my Opinion of those luxurious Comparisons that deviate from the Subject, which Homer, chiefly, among the Ancients, and Milton, among the Moderns, run into; I must confess, they neither deserve Commendation, nor are capable of Defence. But as they have the Sanction of so great Authority, it is not for me to pass Judgment on them, but leave every one to follow his own.

If I remember right, there are few or no Similes in the Tragedies of the ancient Poets. Among the Moderns, no kind of Writing abounds more with them; and it must be own'd, they are often much to be admir'd: But very different are some of these; such, in particular, as are introduced uttered by Persons labouring under the Height of Passion, or in the Agonies of Death; than which, nothing can be more absurd, or unpardonable. As I have casually mention'd this Error in Writing, I would farther observe, your pretty Thoughts, as they are commonly call'd, are neither suitable in a Passion, nor proper to raise one; they only serve in Descriptions to play upon the Imagination, not to put the Affections in Motion. A Breast struggling with Anger, Grief, or Desire, is little sollicitous to express its Anguish in fine wrought Turns of Wit, which will never be able to move the Reader to any Thing else but Madness at the Author's Folly. The plainer Commotions of the Mind are express'd, the better; here the chief Elegance is to want Ornament, and 'tis the great Master-piece of Art to conceal itself in representing Nature. Some Figures, indeed, are not only allowable in these Cases, but necessary; those, in particular, which impress upon the Mind the various Conflicts of the Soul; for such are the Language of Persons who feel these Tumults, tho' they were never taught to express them by the Rules of Rhetoric. But Metaphors and Antitheses, and all Decorations of that kind, must be us'd sparingly, excepting only those Metaphors which Orators sometimes call forth to express their Rage, with all the Fire of Eloquence. This I then rather observe, that I might not seem to contradict Longinus; who, speaking of a Multitude of Metaphors, says[190], they are then most useful, when the Passions swell like a Torrent. He produces an Instance out of Demosthenes, where the Orator indeed appears in Agitation; but still they are different from those we are now speaking of, and not so much the Effect of Nature, as of Art: And even here the Metaphors are far from being bold, nor much distorted from their literal Sense. 'Tis certain, Longinus did not propose this as a general Rule; nor is it possible to represent those Throws and Labours of the Soul in Oratory, which appear in Tragic and Epic Characters; where Joy, Grief, and Anger, glow more intensely, as well as more naturally. But if the Orator feels the same Emotions, and in the same Degree, it is certain he must abstain from the abundant use of Metaphors.

Before I conclude this Dissertation, I would lay before my Audience, as clear an Idea of the different Kinds of Thought which have not yet been touch'd upon, as Words can convey, and so nice a Subject will admit of. The Mordacity of the severe and jocose Satire, has been already describ'd, and some Examples produc'd of each.

There are Thoughts, likewise, of the delicate Kind, whose Excellence does not consist in their Acuteness, but in an artful and agreeable Turn; which don't strike the Imagination at once with Wonder; but move it gently, with a more even Tenor. In this soft Strain, Phædra begins her Epistle to her dear Hippolytus:

I could easily have excused Ovid making use of so beautiful a Turn twice, if he had kept it without any Variation. For in his Metamorphoses, Byblis writes to her Brother almost in the same Terms:

But here, for want of the Word ipsa, the Elegance is quite lost, and the Emphasis spoil'd. In the same Poet, Helen, under a Pretence of dissuading Paris from persevering in his Addresses to her, pays a Compliment to his Beauty, and shews the just Sense she has of her own; and, at the same Time, artfully insinuates, that she has no Aversion to his Love, but rather a secret Passion for him: And expresses all this with wonderful Address, in one Verse:

Nothing can be more ingenious. This single Line so teems with Thought, that it would bear, nay require a long Examination, to discover all its Beauties. At every Word some new Idea arises, which I shall, at present, leave to the Reflection of others, that I may not anticipate so great a Pleasure. Under this Head of delicate Thought, we may reckon that celebrated Compliment with which Horace begins his Epistle to Augustus:

The Address is as genteel as it is ingenious, and it is hard to say whether we should admire in it more the Poet, or the Courtier.

Strong Thoughts are such as strike us neither with Acuteness, their Suddenness, nor their Delicacy; but are full of Sense and Solidity, carry Weight in their Meaning, and sink deep in the Understanding. As in that of Virgil:

For it is a great Mistake to think, that Gravity and Severity in Writing is inconsistent with Wit and Ingenuity. There's Elegance in moral and philosophical Reflections; and nothing can have more of it than those Sentences that are scatter'd up and down in the Narrations, but especially the Speeches, in Virgil. In the eleventh Æneis, the confederate Latin Princes deliberate in Council what Steps to take after their late Defeat; Turnus, in a Speech upon that Occasion, observes, that since they had Forces enough left to continue the War, they were not reduced to the sad Necessity of suing for Peace. The moral Reflection he introduces, will be clearer seen, by considering the Verses before and after it.

These echoing Turns, much affected by the Moderns, tho' little us'd by the Ancients, have sometimes their Beauty, sometimes not: I can by no means agree with a certain Writer of ours, who tells us, that there's only one Example of this Kind in Virgil, and instances in that of Orpheus looking back upon Eurydice:

He might with more Justice have produced that famous Sentence in the second Æneis:

Or those melodious Verses in the eighth Eclogue:

You see what a beautiful Effect this Repetition of the Words and Thoughts has; and how much Melancholy it adds to the Complaint. It is obvious from hence to observe, that Virgil could have far excell'd Ovid in these lighter Conceits, if he had not chose to let his Genius soar to much higher Flights. Under this Head we may add the following Passage from Ovid:

The Elegance of these Lines consists in giving a new Sense to the same Words; they reverberate, as it were, the Motions of the Mind, and by that Means affect it with Surprize and Admiration. But there are many who love to be sporting thus with Words, that are even without Meaning, and have no Thought in them to be reflected. They are a sort of nominal Turns, that our Youth are wonderfully studious of, especially in their Prose Writings, and which conduce not a little to the Corruption of their Taste.

There are Thoughts, likewise, of near Affinity with these, that consist in Contraries, and are sometimes beautiful, often ridiculous. Of the beautiful Kind, is that of Martial to Cæsar:

Ovid with less Success:

In the former Instance, there's only a seeming Contrariety, which is built upon solid Truth; the latter approaches too near a Contradiction, I fear, indeed, it is one. To many of these elegant Fancies (among the Admirers of which Crowds of our modern Writers are desirous of being number'd) that Sneer of Martial may with much Justice be applied:

They are seeming Contradictions, and (strange as this new Species of Wit is) are in Reality what they seem: Or, if they deserve any better Name, they are an empty Sound of Words, meer Noise, and Nonsense.

Tho' the greatest Part of modern Wit turns entirely on this playing upon Words, I don't mean in Conversation only, (where these Trifles are hardly, very hardly tolerable) but even in the severest Writings, yet every Man of common Sense is so convinced of the Absurdity of prostituting it to the Abuse of Words, that I shall dwell no longer upon so disagreeable, so contemptible a Subject. I would only observe, that the Ancients are but little guilty of this Fault: That of Terence[204], Inceptio est amentium, haud amantium; and of Cicero, cited by Juvenal,

and some others, tho' they consist of a Gingle, which I could wish such excellent Writers had wholly abstain'd from, yet they are not equivocal Expressions, nor do they contain a double Sense. Ovid's

I know not how to find an Excuse for. And it must be own'd, that Plautus often runs into these Puerilities; for which Reason, it is probable, he falls under the Censure of Horace:

And it can't be denied but Terence, and some of the best Writers, have some little Touches of this Epidemical Distemper. There are few of these Conceits but are merely equivocal, that is, vary as little in the Thought, as in the Expression; a sort of Collision, from whence, 'tis possible, some Sparks of Wit may sometimes, but very rarely, be struck out. Thus much I thought proper to lay before you, in Relation to the Elegance of Thought in Poetry, both true and false.

I have little Occasion to enlarge distinctly upon the Sublime, because many Things relating to it fell in with what I have before advanced. However, as this was one of the Topics I propos'd to treat of, it is necessary I should say somewhat to it, before I conclude this Dissertation. I cannot better explain to you the Nature of the Sublime, and the Manner of its affecting us, than by giving you the Sense of Longinus[208] upon it, not in a literal Version, but by representing the Substance of him in a few Words. Whence is it that Writers of this Class, in a divine Impetuosity seem regardless of Accuracy, and scorn to be confin'd within the vulgar Rules of Exactness? The Truth is, Nature has form'd Man of an inquisitive Genius, and plac'd him in the World to behold and admire the Wonders of it; not as an idle Spectator, but as one concern'd in its busiest Scenes, eager for Action, and panting after Glory. To this End, he is strongly actuated by a Love and Desire of every Thing that is great and divine. The vast Expanse of the Universe cannot bound his Imagination; he extends his Thoughts into other Worlds, and is lost only in Infinity.

And, in Truth, if we contemplate a Hero, whose Life is one continu'd Series of great Actions, we then may make some Estimate of what we were born to. Hence, then, it is, that Fountains and Rivulets, which answer all the common Conveniencies of Life, never in a great Degree awaken our Attention. But when we view the Rhine, the Nile, the Danube, but, above all, the Ocean, we stand fix'd at once with Awe and Wonder. So again, without any Emotion, we behold the daily Fires, of our own making, how long soever they continue burning: But we gaze with Astonishment at any sudden Light in the Heavens, tho' it vanishes, perhaps, as soon as it appears. Nor is there any Thing more wonderful in Nature than the Eruptions of Mount Ætna, which sometimes discharges from its Caverns Stones, and Deluges of Fire:

Upon the whole, we may draw this Conclusion, that Things of common Use or Necessity, lose all their Wonder, by their Frequency; but whatever is unusual, and beyond the Course of Nature, strikes our Attention, and calls forth our Admiration.

I before observ'd, and therefore need not insist upon it farther here, that the opposite to Sublime is Bombast and Fustian. I observ'd likewise, that the Sublime was not incompatible with the plain Style, tho' chiefly adapted to the Heroic, and produc'd Examples of both; for what I said in Relation to Style, I told you, in the Beginning of this Dissertation, was sometimes applicable to Thought. I would now add, that 'tis a great Mistake to think that the Sublime is only, or chiefly suited to Joy, Triumphs, and pompous Descriptions; for nothing has more of that Quality than those Ideas that command Pity and Terror. I shall produce one, but a very remarkable Instance of each, taken almost from the same Place. Turnus, when his Forces were defeated, and his own Death approaching, dissuades his Sister Juturna from any farther fruitless Offices of her Love, in this Heroical Complaint:

It is impossible not to be wrapt into an Extasy, as it were, of Pity and Wonder, to behold so majestic Sorrow, and such exalted Misery. Nor less sublime is that Terror, with which the Fury possesses the Breast of the same unhappy Hero, when she is sent by Jupiter to carry the fatal Omen:

I appeal to every Reader, whether at these Lines his Blood does not run cold within him, whether he does not feel the same dismal Effects that Turnus did:

When I first engag'd in this new Province, I thought to have treated largely, and in a set Dissertation, on poetic Licence. But I now think that Design superfluous, having spoke so largely of it, when I treated of the Diction and Thought of Poetry, and of the Elegance and Sublimity of each. I then observ'd, that tho' Poets have a Method of Writing peculiar to themselves, and are allow'd many Liberties in it, from which other Writers are debarr'd; yet that they are indulg'd in nothing but what is built upon the Foundation of Truth, and solid Reason: Agreeably to that of Horace,

Nothing now remains, but to entreat you Gentlemen, that make up my Audience, candidly to accept these mean Attempts of mine upon so difficult a Subject.

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Designing to treat of the several Species of Poetry, I thought proper to begin with the lowest, and so gradually proceed to others of a higher Kind, till at last I come to the Epic or Heroic Poem.

Epigram shall be the chief Subject of this Discourse. But as there are other small Poems, which will scarce deserve a distinct one, I shall here make such Observations upon them as may be necessary.

The Account we have of Epigram, both of the Name and Thing, is this: It was usual, it seems, among the Ancients, to cut short Inscriptions under the Statues of their Gods, which they call'd επιγραφαι, and επιγραμματα. These Inscriptions serv'd as Lemmata, or Subjects for little poetical Conceits, which were afterwards themselves term'd Epigrams. That upon the Statue of Venus made by Praxiteles, is well known.

In Course of Time, other Poems of like Nature, whatever their Subject was, went by the Name of Epigrams, on account of their Affinity with those to which that Title was first appropriated.

Epigrams are divided into various Heads; the greater, the less, the equal[215], the simple, the compound, the digressive, &c. But so minute a Distinction is needless, since they may be made upon any Subject. Some are satirical, as that of Martial,

and in another Place:

This, I should think, is the best kind of Epigram; for if the Nature of it in general consists in being acute, whatever is satirical, must always be so. Not but that there are other proper Subjects of it. Some panegyrical, directly contrary to the former; many of which we have in Martial upon the Emperor Domitian, and in others. That of Virgil is famous.

And the Inscription by a Modern design'd for the Palace of the late King of France:

In which, tho' there is not that witty Turn which is usually reckon'd essential to Epigram; yet the Climax is so finely work'd up, that it well deserves the great Praises that have been given it. There are other Epigrams of the Love Kind; as the following one in the Anthology of Italian Poets:

Here, indeed, we have the true Form and Shape of an Epigram, it has all the Appearance of Wit and Elegance; but I fear it offends against right Reason and Nature. Some there are, upon various Circumstances or Events, which are scarce reducible to any Class. As this of Martial, upon the City Ravenna, where there is a great Scarcity of Water:

And upon the Boy whose Throat was cut with an Icicle.

And this Greek Epigram:

Here, again, the true Spirit of Epigram seems wanting; we have no Point of Wit, but only a plain Narration of Fact. But still, the Words are so elegantly opposed to each other, and in so short a Compass, that we shall scarce meet with any Thing which exceeds it. While I am speaking of the different Subjects of Epigram, I would observe, that Religion is sometimes one. And as nothing is so suitable to Poetry as the Marvellous, nothing can afford more Matter for it than the Christian Religion, which so much abounds with Miracles. I shall shew, perhaps, hereafter, how well adapted it is for Poems of the highest Kind, when I come to speak of sacred Poetry; but how proper a Subject it is for Epigram, is self-evident. For tho' these sort of Verses are often ludicrous, and trifling; yet they sometimes breathe a Spirit of Sublimity, every way becoming them. There are many of Martial of this Kind. That, for Instance, to the Emperor Domitian, upon his erecting to himself a triumphal Arch, and a Temple to Fortune:

And in another Place, upon Pompey and his Sons:

If it be ask'd in what the Nature of Epigram in general consists; I reply, Acuteness and Facetiousness are its chief Characteristicks. It ought not to be mix'd, but uniform; to tend only to one Point, which is always to be express'd with Strength and Poignancy in the last Verse. This is above all to be regarded: If the last Verse be flat and languid, or faulty in any Respect, it spoils the whole, how beautiful soever the several Parts are.

This, I say, is, in general, the Nature of Epigrams; to which, however, there are, perhaps, some few Exceptions, that are not so remarkable for their Acuteness and Facetiousness, as for their Softness and Delicacy, or some other Elegance. I have given Instances of one or two already; whether they are to be look'd upon as Epigrams, or to be class'd under some other Species of Poetry, I am little sollicitous. It is certain, there are some short beautiful Poems which cannot come within this Denomination; several in Martial, particularly, and many which you, Gentlemen, compose for your Lent Exercises upon philosophical Subjects; which, as they have already gain'd you great Reputation, so would they farther extend it, if a judicious Collection of them were publish'd[223]. The greatest Part of these are true Epigrams, witty and facetious. Some are Descriptions, Allusions, or poetical Fictions, elegant and beautiful, by whatever Name they are call'd, matters not. No one, I think, could justly object to you, that you affected a barren Subject for Poetry, the better to shew the Strength of your Parts, and Liveliness of your Invention; like a certain Monarch, who industriously chose a Place for his stately Fountains, incapable of having Water brought to it but at a prodigious Expense, only that he might leave a Monument of the Greatness of his Power and Magnificence: For as different as Poetry and Philosophy may seem to be, the one affords abundant Matter for the other, by furnishing the Mind with a Variety of Ideas, and diverting it continually into new Channels.

Elogiums and Inscriptions are to be reduced to this Head, and Epitaphs likewise; the Elegance of which chiefly consists in an expressive Brevity. They should not have so much as one Epithet, properly so called; nor two Words synonymous. Some of these are true Metre, others are something between Prose and Verse, without any set Measure, but the Words perfectly poetical[224].

These little Compositions are often very beautiful: And I might add to them Emblems, or Symbols; by which I mean certain Figures, painted or cut, metaphorically expressing some Action, with an imperfect Sentence at Bottom, which in some measure explains the Sense of the Device, but leaves the Reader to supply the rest. The Painting is call'd the Body of the Emblem, the Sentence at Bottom, the Soul of it. These are Compositions purely poetical, and are often full of Thought and Elegance, I may add, of poetical Action too. A certain French Writer[225] (and among the French this Invention is in most Esteem) has writ a long and accurate Dissertation upon Emblems; wherein he has precisely defin'd their Nature, explain'd their different Species, laid down Rules for their Composition, and for distinguishing the true from the false; and, lastly, has produc'd Variety of Examples of them. I shall lay before you one Instance from him, that you may the better judge both of their Nature and Elegance. To express the Secresy of the King of France's Counsels, as well as the terrible Effects of them to his Enemies, the Sun was represented behind a Cloud, with this half Verse at Bottom:

This is an Invention which I take to be modern, entirely unknown to the Ancients. And tho' the French Author I just mention'd may (according to the Genius of his Nation) attribute, perhaps, more to it than it deserves; yet it certainly deserves its Praise, for Elegance and Ingenuity.

But to return to Epigrams: Whatever you write, be short. Those, perhaps, are the best, which don't exceed eight Lines; for the rest, they cannot be too short. This Rule, however, I don't propose as a general one. Some Epigrams may be beautiful, tho' longer; one of which I have already cited in this Discourse.

As to the Verse; in Latin (for of that Language I here principally speak) Hexameter and Pentameter are the most proper, tho' others are not to be excluded; for Iambics and Hendecasyllables are frequently made use of.

Many of the Hendecasyllable Poems are rather Odes than Epigrams: Some seem to be of a mix'd Nature; and Poetry has nothing more beautiful than both. Catullus is reckon'd the Prince in this Kind of Writing, whom others, both Ancients and Moderns, have very happily imitated, and some, perhaps, excell'd. The Nature of them consists in being lax and free, in chusing light Subjects, especially those of Love; and sometimes serious ones, as Epitaphs, and the like. It is always soft and sweet, full of tender Diminutives, and of Repetitions of the same Verse at proper Distances.

Whether the Ancients or Moderns have deserv'd best of these light Kinds of Poetry, but especially of Epigram, is hard to say. It is certain, the latter have a Turn of Wit which the former were Strangers to; but still I dare not decide the Preference. But leaving that Dispute, we shall all agree in this common Maxim, Inest sua gratia parvis; Little Things have their Beauty; and sometimes not a little Beauty. Tho' they are small in Bulk, yet they are great in Value; and not only Wit and Ingenuity are requir'd in the Composition of them, but true Reason, and solid Judgment:

Sometimes the Pains requir'd in this Kind of Composition is very great; but then they are always repaid by it. To which we may often apply what Virgil says of the Bees:

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This is a Subject, which, if I am not mistaken, very few have largely treated of. Scaliger, indeed, and some others, have just mention'd it, and made some short Strictures upon it: But no one, that I know of, except Vossius, of the better Sort of Writers, have writ a professed Dissertation of this Species of Poetry, tho' it is the sweetest, the most engaging, and every way worthy our Consideration. Who the Inventor was, Horace professes himself ignorant:

Nor is this an Enquiry of much Moment. Under the Title of Elegy, is generally and primarily understood a mournful Poem, bewailing the Loss of some Person lately dead; and sometimes has any other melancholy plaintive Circumstance for its Subject. Scaliger calls it a Poem proper for Complaints:

says Horace, addressing himself to Tibullus, the best of Eleglic Writers. This appears clear enough, from the Etymology of the Word; either from ελεος, or (as others more justly) from ι, a Particle of Grief, and λεγειν to speak; not from εν λεγειν, as some have ill judg'd, because, forsooth, we generally speak in Praise of whose Deaths we lament. It is certain, this Sort of Poem was anciently, and from its first Origin, made use of at Funerals. That, therefore, of one famous Elegiac Poet upon the Death of another, of equal Fame, of Ovid, I mean, on Tibullus, deserves, in the most proper Sense, this Title: The Writer himself observes as much, in the following Lines:

By which Words, however, he intimates, that some other Poems, besides Funeral ones, went under the Name of Elegies. Horace is very express:

From whence we learn, that Deaths are not the only Subjects of Elegy, but that by Degrees it was employ'd upon other Things that had nothing mournful in them, nay, that turn'd upon Gaiety and Festivity. Ovid's Books of Love, the Poems of Tibullus and Propertius, are entitled Elegies; and yet so far are they from being sad, that they are sometimes scarce serious. Ovid, particularly, takes too great a Liberty in this Kind of Poem, and lets his Joy break out to Excess. But if we look back to the Original, both of the Name and Thing, we shall find that Writings of this Sort are styled Elegies only in an improper Sense of the Word. One and the same Title, therefore, was indiscriminately given to Poems on different Subjects, but which agreed in their Verse, and Manner of Writing.

The chief Subjects to which Elegy owes its Rise, are Death and Love: The Connexion between which, it is not my Business here to examine. The Writings of the Poets, I have above mention'd, chiefly consist of Love; tho' Elegies admit almost of any Matter, especially if it be treated of seriously. The Contempt of Riches, the Pleasures of the Country, are in great measure the Subject of them, in which a little Love is generally interspers'd. Some, but few, in Tibullus and Propertius, have nothing of Death or Love; which, however, have been always the chief Subjects of this Kind of Poem. That Elegy, therefore, ought to be esteem'd the most perfect in its Kind, which has somewhat of both at once: Such, for Instance, where the Poet bewails the Death of his Corinna, his Delia, or Lycoris, or of some Youth or Damsel falling a Martyr to Love. Among the Love Elegies, those are to be placed next, which are full of that melancholy Complaint which Lovers seldom want Matter for. Yet there are some of a very different Temper; but which, as I observ'd before, are improperly rank'd in the Number of Elegies. Some, again, are full of Joy and Triumph: As in Ovid,

Others satirical: As that of the same Poet, where, describing an old Woman, he breaks out into these Imprecations against her:

Others are jocose in different Ways, Instances of all which we meet with in Ovid.

Many Elegies are writ in the Epistolary Manner, as is obvious, to every one that has but the least Knowledge of the Poets I have now cited. Under this Head, therefore, Ovid's Heroine Epistles (as they are usually call'd, from their being writ by Ladies of Prowess and Renown) come very properly to be mention'd, since they partake of the Nature of Elegy, not only on account of their Verse, but Sentiment. They are deservedly esteem'd the best Part of that Poet's Works; as his Book De Tristibus, tho' the truest Elegies, are the worst. Nothing can have a more delicate Turn than some of these Epistles. I have given Instances of this elsewhere; and have no need of repeating them here, or producing new ones. His Heroine Epistles differ from his Elegiac in this, that the former are fictitious, and personate the Character of some one or other mention'd in fabulous History; the latter are address'd, in the Poet's own Name, to his Friends of either Sex. Setting aside this Circumstance, and that of their Length, there is very little Difference between them. To return, therefore, to Elegy, according to the common Acceptation of the Word; its chief Property is to be easy and soft; to flow in one even Current, and captivate the Ear with Melody. It must be free from all Asperity, from every Thing that is harsh, or unpleasant. For, as Propertius sweetly expresses it:

And nothing is often more harmonious than Complaints; the Music of Birds is said by the Poets to be expressive of them, as in Ovid:

How vocal are Tears, how moving poetic Grief! Hear Tibullus thus bewailing his Sickness in a foreign Land:

Hear Ovid thus lamenting the Death of the same Poet, which follow'd from that Sickness. He speaks to Elegy:

While the one dies thus, while the other so laments his Death, how justly are they both render'd immortal? They that thus write, and thus deserve Elegies, are such as least need them. Some Descriptions in Elegy are not less affecting; as of the Elysian Fields, in the same Passage of Tibullus:

With this Kind of Poem, every Thing that is epigrammatical, satirical, or sublime, is inconsistent. Elegy aims not to be witty or facetious, acrimonious or severe, majestic or sublime; but is smooth, humble, and unaffected; nor yet is she abject in her Humility, but becoming, elegant, and attractive.

Among our modern Poems, we have few entitled Elegies; those only that are made on Funeral Occasions: But we have many that may be call'd so, in the larger Sense of the Word, as it was used by the Ancients, and we have above explain'd it: Many very ingenious ones on Love; and others of a melancholy and soft Turn.

Among the Ancients, Hexameters and Pentameters were so peculiar to Elegy, that this Kind of Metre is usually styled Elegiac; nor is any more soft, or more harmonious. Instead of it, we, in our own Tongue, use the Heroic.

The Writers in this Way that Antiquity has handed down to us, are all in Latin. Some there were more early among the Greeks, as Callimachus, Philetas, and others; the Fragments only of whose Writings have been sav'd from the Wreck of Time. They that would know which they are, may consult the learned Vossius, and others; it being beside my Purpose to enquire into Facts and History.

Among the Latins, Ovid, Tibullus, and Propertius, bear the first Rank; with whom Catullus is sometimes join'd: But not so properly, his Merit being chiefly in his Hendecasyllables, and some other wanton Verses, and his elegant Poem on the Argonautic Expedition. There is nothing of his Elegiacal, except the Measure of some of his Verses; and they so uneven, that they scarce deserve the Name of Verse; so rough, that they cannot be read without Offence to the Ear, nay, to the very Teeth. Ovid is generally reckon'd, and that deservedly, the first in this Class, no one having equall'd his Numbers, nor exceeded his Diction. I submit it only, for it is a Matter of Doubt, whether Tibullus is not less diffuse, and more correct. There is one Fault in Ovid, which is unpardonable, his perpetual and nauseous Repetition of mei, tui, and sui, in the last Foot of his Pentameters. How much more beautiful would they have been, if this Fault had been avoided, which might have been done with little Care. And yet a sixth Part, at least, are so terminated, than which, nothing can be more lifeless and insignificant. Tibullus and Propertius rarely fall into this Fault, but into another, especially the latter of them, from which Ovid is free; I mean the concluding the Pentameter with Words of three or more Syllables; whereas Harmony requires a Word of no more than two. One Writer in this Way it would be unpardonable to pass over, tho' we have little remaining of him, if he is the same (as it is probable he is not) with him to whom Virgil has given Immortality by mentioning him in his Works: For immortal, sure, he must needs be, of whom the best of immortal Poets has given this Eulogy:

This from Virgil's Eclogues, which Species of Poetry will be the Subject of our next Discourse.

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This, also, is another Species of Poetry, not professedly treated of by any of the Ancients, nay, not so much as mention'd amongst their various Precepts relating to this Art. The later Latin Critics have bestow'd some Pains upon it; but our modern ones, of the present Age, much more; and (to speak my own Judgment, which I shall always be ready to submit to better) seem to have attributed too much Honour to it, and to have rais'd more Dust, than the Importance of the Subject deserv'd. Not but that I think it a very elegant Kind of Writing, and every Way worthy of Imitation. As it is now incumbent on me to say somewhat of it, agreeably to my present Design, I shall put together what I think most material relating to it, without making any Difference between what I have advanced new, or others have observed before me.

In the first Ages of the World, before Men were united in Cities, and had learnt the studied Arts of Luxury, they lead in the Country plain harmless Lives; and Cottages, rather than Houses, might be said to be their Habitation. Those happy Times abounded with Leisure and Recreation: To feed the Flock, and cultivate the Land, was the only Employ of its peaceable Inhabitants; the former the joint Care of the Women and the Men. Hence arose abundant Matter for Love and Verse. Nay, when the World was grown older, and Mankind so numerous, that they began to secure themselves in Walls, and to introduce what we call a more civil Life, yet still Shepherds and Husbandmen maintain'd their primitive Honour. Country Affairs, but especially the Care of the Flock, was not only the Labour of the Vulgar, but the Exercise of the Rich and Powerful, nay, of Princes of either Sex. This appears sufficiently, from sacred History, in the Example of Jacob, Rachel, Moses, and the other Patriarchs: From the Testimony of Heathen Writers; as in that of Virgil,

And in another Place, to omit other Instances:

From what has been said, it is easy to see the Origin of Pastorals. It appears to have been a very ancient Species of Poetry, tho' I can by no means agree with Scaliger[242], in thinking it the oldest, which is an Honour I shall hereafter shew to be due to the Lyric Kind, Shepherds, 'tis true, were the first Poets; but Odes and Hymns, not Pastorals, were their original Compositions. However, Pastorals, as I said, are undoubtedly of very great Antiquity; and the Song of Solomon in sacred Writ comes under this Denomination; from whence, 'tis very observable, Theocritus has borrow'd literally many Expressions; making use of the Version of the Seventy-two, with whom he was cotemporary.

The Nature of this Kind of Poem is to be sweet, easy, and flowing, and simple beyond all others: And yet not so humbly simple, (which is a common Mistake) as if it represented only the Characters of poor ignorant Shepherds, and the Thoughts of modern Rustics. The Scene, indeed, of Bucolics (for that is another Name for Pastorals, the former derived from the Herds, as the latter from the Flocks, that are the different Objects of the rural Care) ought always to be laid in the Country. Nor ought it to be diversify'd with any Thing repugnant to such a Situation; nay, Views, and little Descriptions of Lawns and Groves, ought always to be interspers'd in these Poems, whatsoever the Subject of them be. Yet there may be a Mixture of Images of a different Kind, and much elevated above the Apprehension of the Vulgar. Virgil, therefore, is very undeservedly censured by many for having introduced Philosophy, and even somewhat of the Sublime, into his Eclogues: For since, as we observ'd, many of the ancient Shepherds were Persons, I need not say of the better, but even of the first Rank, it is no great Wonder if some of them were Scholars, and Philosophers. 'Tis a Mistake to say that Virgil's fourth and fifth Eclogues are not Pastorals; and that nothing sublime, but every Thing simple and rustic, is compatible with this Kind of Poetry. They are Pastorals, undoubtedly; tho' of a different Kind from the common ones. There is a certain Sublimity, agreeable enough to Pastorals; a Sublimity that arises from Philosophy and Religion, not from the Tumults of War, the Pomps of a Court, or the Refinements of the City. I don't see, therefore, why that divine Eclogue; Sicelides Musæ, &c. (divine I may call it, on many Accounts) should not be allow'd a Place among the Pastorals. The rural Muses are invok'd; the Woods are celebrated; many Things expresly relate to the Country, and nothing repugnant to it. The Subject, indeed, is great; the Words and Thoughts sublime; sublimer, I may say, than the Poet himself was aware of. For it is the Opinion of the most learned Divines, to which I very readily adhere, that he by happy Error celebrates from the Sibylline Oracles the Birth of Christ, which was then approaching; and it is evident, that many of the Lines describe the Nature of the Messias, and of his Kingdom, in Terms of near Affinity with the sacred Writings[243]. And nothing, surely, could be more proper, than that the Prince of Poets should promulge that joyful News in Pastorals, which was first proclaim'd from Heaven to Shepherds. That Objection drawn from the Invention of War and Ships, both which the Poet touches upon in the following Lines, is of little Moment.

These are only incidental Ornaments of the Poem, not properly the Subject of it. Now it is impossible that the Argonautic Expedition, so famous throughout the World, should be unknown to Shepherds of Birth and Education. And as little probable is it, that they should be ignorant of the Trojan War, occasion'd by one of their own Profession. It is repugnant, indeed, to Pastorals, to turn wholly upon warlike Affairs; but it is a very different Thing to bring them in only as Embellishments. This is what may be justly pleaded for all the Eclogues of Virgil, where Arms are mentioned; excepting only the tenth:

Which, I confess, raises in me some Difficulty; because the Speaker introduc'd is manifestly a Soldier. But it must be observ'd, that he does not at the same Time personate a Shepherd, as is manifest, from his Speech to the Arcadians, when he expresses his Envy of their happy Retirement:

Had he been one of them, he would have join'd two contradictory Ideas; for a Shepherd in Arms, who could have born? But if it be ask'd, Why then is the chief Person in the Pastoral drawn of a very different Character from Pastoral; it is sufficient to answer, That Virgil so thought fit; and there is nothing absurd, or unnatural, in such a Conduct. For the State of the Case is no more than this: Gallus, engag'd in Camps, happens to fall in Love, and retires to the Solitude of the Country, to give vent to his Passion. Shepherds, Nymphs, Sylvanus, Pan, and even Apollo himself, lend their kind Endeavours to asswage it. Thus far every Thing is natural, elegant, and truly pastoral. And the whole Poem is of the same Nature, excepting only the two Verses I have now cited. Leave out these, and even Gallus's Complaint is perfectly rural, and all the Thoughts drawn from the Country. In short, so far am I from assenting to those Critics who would exterminate this from the Number of Pastorals, that I would place it the very first of all. The sixth Eclogue of Virgil, which I just now mention'd, is full of Philosophy and Religion: And that's a sort of Sublime, which, I before observ'd, was very consistent with Pastoral. The fourth I have likewise spoke to. The rest of them are Pastoral, without any Objection; tho' the Etymology of the Word Eclogue by no means implies it; which signifies no more than Select Poems upon any Subject whatsoever. The Word Idyllium is as little expressive of Pastorals, nor are all Theocritus's such: It is deriv'd from eidos, Species; and the Word Idyllia imports no more than Poems of various Sorts.

It must be own'd, however, that the greatest Essential in Pastoral is Simplicity; and that these Lines have much less of the Nature of it,

than the following:

But then it ought to be elegantly simple, for the Plowmen should appear in their Holyday Garments. Thus we see Shepherds and Shepherdesses introduced upon the Stage; and tho' they bring Crooks in their Hands, and Straw Hats on their Heads, yet their Dress is nearly rural, and above the Habit of the Vulgar. In Virgil we have frequent Examples of this polite Rusticity, in those Places, especially, where Love is concern'd. I shall only produce one, out of many, where Damon, desperately in Love with the fair, but cruel Nisa, vents his Passion in these Words:

How unartful the Complaint, but yet how lovely?

Tho' the Style of Pastoral is humble, it is not sordidly mean, nor slovenly careless, neither resembling the Diction of Comedy, which is almost Prose; nor of the bantering Satire, which is one Degree farther from it: But is sweet, pleasant, and easy; elegant with Plainness, and but poetically low:

Antique Phrases, Ænigma's, Proverbs, superstitious Fables, are no unbecoming Ornaments of this Sort of Poetry.

It generally consists of Dialogue, in which some little dramatical Action ought to be represented, a rural Scene described, Interlocutors under different Circumstances, and a certain Plot carried on to a Conclusion. For 'tis not to be imagin'd, as many, now a-days do, that every Dialogue between two Shepherds, full of the bleating of Flocks, is a proper Pastoral. No, 'tis a Thing that requires more Labour, Art, and Judgment, than we are generally aware of: Nor is any Kind of Poem less tolerable, if ill, or even moderately perform'd. Who can bear those Crowds of Pastorals, as they are inscrib'd, that are daily publish'd in Latin and English, upon the Death of Princes, or Friends? They are all cast in the same Mould; read one, you read all. Daphnis asks Thyrsis the Reason of his Grief, whether he has lost a Goat; or Amaryllis, or Neæra, has been unkind to him. The Answer is, his Sorrow is owing to no such Cause; but that Pan, or Phyllis, or any one else is dead. Say you so, says Daphnis, I thought all along that Pan had been immortal, or Phyllis, I am sure, deserv'd to have been so. They then join in celebrating, alternately, the Praises of the deceas'd. Birds, Sheep, Woods, Mountains, Rivers, are full of Complaints. We are told how the croaking Raven foreboded the dismal Event; Oaks were riv'd with Thunder; every Thing, in short, is wondrous lamentable, and in the most emphatical Sense miserable.

The Subjects of Pastoral are as various as the Passions of human Nature, nay, it may, in some measure, partake of every Kind of Poetry, but with this Proviso, that the Scene of it ought always to be in the Country, and the Thoughts never contrary to those that are bred there. Some of these short Strictures of Wit between contending Shepherds, favour something of Epigram: Thus in Virgil;

The second Eclogue is Elegiac, containing a Love Complaint; so is the latter Part of the fifth, bewailing the Death of Daphnis. The Songs, and Pipe, seem reducible to some Kind of Ode. And I see no Reason, why the third Eclogue may not be deem'd a short rural Comedy, representing the Manners, the Follies, little Tricks, and Quarrels of low Country Life; intermix'd, likewise, with various Strokes of Satire, many Examples of which we have elsewhere produced. Damon's Complaint; in the former Part of the eighth Eclogue, is tragical, and ends thus:

But the Thoughts and Diction of the fourth Eclogue, I before observ'd, favour much of the Heroic.

The Pleasure that arises from this Kind of Poetry, is owing to those beautiful rural Scenes, which it represents; and to that innate Love, which human Nature, depraved as it is, still retains for its primitive Simplicity. Simplicity and the Country I join together, because in Fact they were both united. We are born with a Love for a Country Life, for Nature always pleases us more than Art, not only as it is prior to it in Point of Time, but as the Works of God are more perfect, and more various, than those of Men. Nay, Art itself is then most pleasing, when it represents Nature. Thus Architecture affects the Mind with less Pleasure and Wonder than Poetry, or its Sister Painting because that is the Effect of Art only, these of Nature likewise. And tho' it may be the Business of one Art to describe another, yet it never is so successfully employ'd, as when Nature sits for the Description. Thus, in Painting, the Prospect of a magnificent Structure is beautiful; but how much more agreeable is that which is diversified with Woods, Flowers, Rivers, Mountains, Cottages, Birds, Flocks, Herds, and Husbandmen? And how much would the Pleasure be still heighten'd, could the Picture convey to us the Fragrancy of Flowers, the Warbling of Birds, the Lowing of Oxen, the Bleating of Sheep, and all those other Gratifications that are the Objects, not of the Sight, but of the Hearing, and other Senses. Since Nature, then, and the Country, are the same, and Cities the Effect of Art and Refinement; it is no Wonder, if the former has the Preference. It pleads Prescription for our Choice; if we date our own Infancy from that of the World, we are all by Birth Inhabitants of the Fields and Woods: Thither, therefore, we naturally tend, and, as Ovid says, less justly, upon another Occasion,

For, I'll be bold to say, that they who prefer a City Life, have a natural Affection for a Country one. It is Horace's Observation:

And those that make the City Life their Choice, do so, as the Schoolmen speak, only by Accident; either to indulge their Vices and Extravagancies; or on account of some Inconveniencies which the Country sometimes labours under; as the Want of Company, or the Opportunity of gaining or increasing a Fortune; not out of any Distaste of the Pleasures of the Country. Who can help sympathizing with Horace's Citizen, and wish him Success in so reasonable a Request?

And it is impossible to read Virgil's Description of the Country, in his second Georgic, without being in Love with the Subject, as well as the Poet. Upon the whole, since Innocence and the Country are even now so agreeable to human Nature, it is easy to see from what Source the Pleasure of Pastoral Poetry springs.

As Theocritus is the first that attempted this Way of Writing, so has he excell'd all others that have follow'd him. Virgil copies, and in some Places literally translates him. He has sometimes, however ventur'd to deviate from his Original, by throwing in a Mixture of the Sublime. If Theocritus's are truer Pastorals; Virgil's may be said, perhaps, to be the better Poems. I speak this with some Hesitation; for, it must be own'd, the Idyllia are truly beautiful; and the Author of them, I think, ought to be rank'd among the best Poets. The Sweetness of his Versification (owning partly to his own Ingenuity, and partly to his Doric Dialect) is equall'd by none. Take, only as a Specimen, what first offers, the very Beginning of the first Idyllium:

Thyrsis then proceeds to lament, in the softest Verse that is possible, Daphnis's unhappy Love, the Beginning of which only I shall recite to you:

These harmonious Lines, Virgil imitates, in the following ones, but does not equal.

What Bion and Moschus have done in this Kind, among the Greeks, the Learned are no Strangers to. Among the Latins, we have nothing remaining of Calphurnius Siculus and Aurelius Nemesianus, but their Names[257]. The Syrinx, or Shepherd's Pipe; the Form, the Number, and the Manner of disposing the Oaten Reeds; the Names of the first Inventors of this Sort of Poetry, and other Things of the like Nature, I pass over, as foreign to my Province. Whoever is studious this Way, may consult the Writers of poetical History. I would only observe, that it seems universally agreed upon, that Pastoral owes its Rise and Increase to Sicily.

I cannot but think it a Poem less suitable to modern Times, on account of the Difference in the Circumstances of human Life, from what it was anciently. As the Condition of Shepherds is now mean and contemptible; it seems too forced a Prosopopœia to affix to them any Character of Politeness, or to introduce them as Men of Wealth and Education: These Things are contradictory to Truth, and therefore leave no Room for Fiction. The very Foundation, then, of Pastorals, as they are accommodated to the present Times, seems wholly taken away. But setting aside this, it must be own'd, several of the Moderns have attempted them very successfully, both in their own Tongue, and in Latin. The Italians and French generally want the Bucolic Genius: Their Shepherds are too genteel; as well bred as Citizens at least, if not as Courtiers, and fall into other Absurdities of the same Kind. Our Countryman Spencer has succeeded much better; and one or two of the present Age seem justly to have deserv'd the Prize.

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