icb XU oJLJ ■ ec.io - Cncpclopetita 36rttauutta: OR, A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE; ENLARGED AND IMPROVED. THE FIFTH EDITION. IHustcatea toitl) nearly sir Jjunateti (JEngtatitngs. VOL. XVII. INDOCTI DISCANT; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI. EDINBURGH : Printed at the Encyclopedia Press, FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, AND THOMSON BONAR, EDINBURGH: GALE, CURTIS, AND FENNER, LONDON ; AND THOMAS WILSON AND SONS, YORK. 1815. . i'dy. iiymu ^ D i ^3 ^ E NCYCLOP^EDIA DRITANNICA, B POETRY, Part II. Se&. 2. continued. Of lyric Poetry. 120 The fong. THE variety of fubje&s, which are allowed the lyric poet, makes it necefTary to confider this fpecies of poetry under the following heads, viz. the fublime ode, the lejfer ode, and the fong. We (hall begin with the loweft, and proceed to that which is more eminent. I. Songs are little poetical compolitions, ufually fet to a tune, and frequently fung in company by way of en¬ tertainment and diverlion. Of thefe we have in our lan¬ guage a great number 5 but, confidering that number, not many which are excellent j for, as the dnke of Buckingham obferves, Though nothing feems more eafy, yet no part Of poetry requires a nicer art. The fong admits of almoft any fubjedl j but the greateft part of them turn either upon love, contentment, nr the p/eafures of a country life, and drinking. Be the fubjeft, howrever, what it will, the verfes thould be eafy, natural, and flowing, and contain a certain harmony, fo that poetry and muiic may be agreeably united. In thefe compolitions, as in all others, obfcene and profane ex- preffions fliould be carefully avoided, and indeed every thing that tends to take off that refpeft which is due to religion and virtue, and to encourage vice and immora¬ lity. As the bell fongs in our language are already in every hand, it would feem fuperfluous to infert ex¬ amples. For further precepts, however, as well as fe- le£t examples, in this fpecies of compofition, we may re¬ fer the reader to the elegant Ej/ay on Song Writing, by in Mr Aikin. Ihediftin- II. Tike lejjcr ode. The diftinguifhing charaffer of character ^vvee^ne^s i ar|d as the pleafure we receive from of the Merthisfort Poem arifes principally from its foothing and ode. affe&ing the paflions, great regard fhould be paid to the language as well as to the thoughts and numbers. Th’ expreflion fhould be eafy, fancy high \ Yet that not feem to creep, nor this to fly : No words tranfpos’d, but in fuch order all, As, though hard wrought, may feem by chance to fall. D. Buckingham’s EJJay. The flyle, Indeed, fhould be eafy : but it may be alfo florid and figurative. It folicits delicacy, but difdains affectation. The thoughts fhould be natural, chaffe, and elegant; and the numbers various, fmooth, and harmo¬ nious. A few examples will fufficiently explain what tve mean. Vol. XVII. Part I. Longinus has preferved a fragment of Sappho, an an- Of Lyric cient Greek poetefs, which is in great reputation am on gft Poetry, the critics, and has been fo happily tranflated by Mr - Philips as to give the Englifh reader a jurt idea of the r}ie Sap_ fpirit, eafe, and elegance of that admired authot *, and phic ode. fhow how exaCtly fhe copied nature. To enter into the beauties of this ode, we muff fuppofe a lover fitting by his miftrefs, and thus expreffing his paflion : Bleft as th’ immortal gods is he, The youth who fondly fits by thee, And fees and hears thee all the while v Softly fpeak, and fweetly fmile. ’Twas this depriv’d my foul of reft, And rais’d fuch tumults in my breaft $ ' For while I gaz’d, in tranfport toft, My breath wras gone, my voice was loft.. My bofom glow’d, the fubtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame : O’er my dim eyes a darknefs hung ; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill’d, My blood with gentle horrors thrill’d } My feeble pulfe forgot to play $ I fainted, funk, and dy’d away. After this inftance of the Sapphic ode, it may not The Ana, be improper to fpeak of that fort of ode which is called creontic Anacreontic; being written in the manner and tafte of°^e* Anacreon, a Greek poet, famous for the delicacy of his wit, and the exquifite, yet eafy and natural, turn of his poefy. We have feveral of his odes ftill extant, and many modern ones in imitation of him, which are moft- ly compofed in verfes of feven fyllables, or three feet and a half. We fliall give the young ftudent one or two examples of his manner from Mr Fawkes’s excellent tranflation. The following ode on the power of gold, which had been often attempted but with little fuccefs, this gentle¬ man has tranflated very happily. Love’s a pain that works our wo; Not to love is painful too : But, alas ! the greateft pain Waits the love that meets difdain. What avails ingenuous worth, Sprightly wit, or noble birth ? All thefe virtues ufelefs prove j Gold alone engages love, ■E. May POET Of Lyria- Poetry. May he be completely curft, Who the fleeping mifchief firft "Wak’d to life, and, vile before, Stamp’d with worth the fordid ore. Gold creates in brethren if:rife j Gold deftroys the parent’s Hie j Gold produces civil jars, Murders, maffacres, and wars j But the word c ffedf of gold, Love, alas ! is bought and fold. His ode on the vanity of riches is of a piece with the above, and conveys a good leffon to thofe who are over anxious for wealth. If the trcafur’d gold could give Man a longer term to live, I’d employ my utmoft care Still to keep, and dill to fpare And, when death approach’d, would fay, 4 Take thy fee, and walk away.’ But dnce riches cannot fa%'e Mortals from the gloomy grave. Why diould l myfelf deceive, Vainly figh, and vainly grieve ? Death will furelv be my lot, Whether I am rich or not. Give me freely while I live Generous wines, in plenty give Soothing joys my life to cheer, Beauty kind, and friends fincere ; Happy ! could I ever find Friends fincere, and beauty kind. But two of the mod admired, and perhaps the mod imitated, of Anacreon’s odes, are that of Mars wounded by one of the darts of Love, and Cupid dung by a Bee j both which are wrought up with fancy and deli¬ cacy, and are tranflated with elegance and fpirit.—Take that of Cupid dung by a bee. Once as Cupid, tir’d with play, On a bed of rofes lay, A rude bee, that dept unfeen, The fweet breathing buds between, Stung his finger, cruel chance ! With its little pointed lance. Straight he. fills the air with cries, Weeps, and fobs, and ruhs, and flies j ’Till the god to Venus came, Lovely, laughter-loving dame : Then he thus began to plain ; « Oh ! undone 1 die with pain “ Dear mamma, a ferpent fmall, “ Which a bee the ploughman call, “ Imp’d with wings, and arm’d with dart, w Oh !—has flung me to the heart.” Venus thus reply’d and" fmil’d : ‘ Dry thofe tears for fhame ! my child > 4 If a bee can wound fo deep, 4 Caufing Cupid thus to weep, R Y. Think, O think ! what cruel pain* Part II. Of Lyric Poetry. 4 He that’s dung by thee fudains.’ Among the mod fuccefsful of this poet’s Englifli imi- 124 lators may be reckoned Dr Johnfon and Mr Prior. The^^uor^ following ode on Evening by the former of thefe writers^ a^'fC has, if we midake not, the very fpirit and air of Anacreon. Evening now from purple wings Sheds the grateful gifts die brings; Brilliant drops bedeck the mead j Cooling breezes {hake the reed ; Shake the reed and curl the dream Silver’d o’er with Cynthia’s beam j Near the chequer’d lonely grove Hears, and keeps thy fecrets, Love. Stella, thither let us dray ! Lightly o’er the dewy way. Phoebus drives his burning car Hence, my lovely Stella, far : In his dead the queen of night Round us pours a lambent light 5 Light that feems but jud to Ihow Breads that beat, and cheeks that glow : Let us now, in whifper’d joy, Evening’s filent hours employ $ Silence bed, and confcious diades, Pleafe the hearts that love invades : Other pleafures give them pain } Lovers all but love difdain. But of all the imitations of the playful bard of Greece that we have ever met w ith, the mod perfeft is the fob- lowing Anacreontic by the regent duke of Orleans. .Te fuis ne pour les plaifirs ; Bien fou que s’en paffe : Je ne veux pas les choilir 5 Souvent le choix m’embarraffe : Aime t’on ? J’aime foudain ; Bois t’on ? J’ai la verre vi la main ; .Te tiens par tout ma place. II. Dormir ed un temps perdu \ Faut il qu’on s’y livre ? Sommeil, prends ce qui t’ed du $ Mais attends que je fois yvre : Saifis moi dans cet indant •, Fais moi dormir promptement; Je fuis prefle de vivre. III. Mais fi quelque objet charmant, Dans un fonge aimable, Vient d’un plaifir feduifant 'M’offrir 1’image agreajble *, Sommeil, allons doucement •, L’erreur ed en ce moment Un bonheur veritable. Tran flat ion of the Regent's Anacreontic (e). Frolic and free, for pleafure born, The felf-denying fool I fcorn. Tho (E) We give this trar flation, both becaufe of its excellence and becaufe it is faid to have been the produ&iftt «f no lefs a man than the late Lord Chatham* POE The proffer’d joy I ne’er refufe ; ’Tis oft-times troublefome to chufe. Lov’ft thou, my friend ? I love at fight : Drink’ll; thou ? this bumper does thee right. At random with the ftream I flow, And play my part where’er I go. Great God of Sleep, fince we mull be Oblig’d to give fome hours to thee, Invade me not till the full bowl Glows in my cheek, and warms my foul. Be that the only time to fnore, When I can love and drink no more : Short, very fliort, then be thy reign i For I’m in hafte to live again. But O ! if melting in my arms, In fome foft dream, with all her charms. The nymph belov’d Pnould then furprife, And grant what waking Ihe denies j Then prithee, gentle Slumber, flay j Slowly, ah flowly, bring the day : Let no rude noife my blifs deftroy ; Such fweet delufion’s real joy. We have mentioned Prior as an imitator of Anacreon but the reader has bv this time had a fufficient fpecimen of Anacreontics. The following Anfiver to Cloe jealous, which was written when Prior was lick, has much of the elegant tendernefs of Sappho. Yes, faireft proof of beauty’s pow’r, Dear idol of my panting heart, Nature points this my fatal hour : And I have liv’d : and we mull part. While now I take my laft adieu, Heave thou no figh, nor Ihed a tear j Left yet my half-clov’d eye may view On earth an objeft worth its care, From jealoufy’s tormenting ftrife For ever be thy bofom freed ; That nothing may difturb thy Iff#, Content I I aftrn to the dead Yet when fome better-fated youth Shaft with kis am’rous parly move thee, Ilefleft one moment on his truth Who, dying, thus perfifts to love thee. There is much of the foftnefs of Sapoho, and the fweetnefs of Anacreon and Prior, in the following We come now to thofe odes of the more florid and Odes mor* figurative kind, of which we have many in our language Aond^and that deferve particular commendation. Mr War ton’s 2U Ode to Fancy has been jullly ad mired bythe bell judges; for though it has a diftant refemblance of Milton’s 1’Allegro and II Penferofo, yet the work is original; the thoughts are moftly new and various, and the language and numbers elegant, expreflive, and harmonious. O parent of each lovely mufe, Thy fpirit o’er my foul diffufe ! O’er all my artlefs fongs prefide, My foot fie ps to thy temple guide 4 To offer at thy turf-built {brine In golden cups no collly wine, No murder’d fading of the flock, But flow’rs and honey from the rosk. O nymph, with loofely flowing hair, With bulkin’d leg, and bofom bare ; Thy waift with myrtle-girdle bound, Thy brows with Indian feathers crown’d^ Waving in thy fnowy hand An all-commanding magic wand, Of pow’r to bid frelh gardens blow ’Mid cheerlefs Lapland’s barren fnow : Whofe rapid wings thy flight convey, Through air, and over earth and fea ; While the vail various landfcape lies C nfph uous to thy piercing eyes. O lover of the defert, nail ! « Say, in what deep and pathlefs vale. Or on what hoary mountain’s fide, ’Midfl falls of water, you refide ; ’Midft broken rock's a ru£ged feene, With green and graffy dales between ; ’Midfl; forefts dark of aged oak. Ne’er echoing with the woodman’s ftroke ; Where never human art appear’d, Nor ev’n one llraw-roof’d cott was rear’d ; Where Nature fee ms to fit alone, Majeftic on a craggy throne. Tell me the path fweet wand’rer ! tell. To thv unknown fequefter’d cell, Where woodbines duller round the door, Where fliells and mofs o’orlay the floor. And on whofe top an hawthorn blows, Amid whole thickly-woven boughs Some nightingale Hill builds her neft, Each ev’ning warbling thee to reft. Then lay me by the haunted ftream, Wrapt in fome wild poetic dream ; A 2 In. Part II, Of Lyric Poetry. IIS Sappho* POETRY. 4 Of Lync Jn converfe while metliinks I rove , ry~ f With Spenfer through a fairy grove 5 Till fuddenly awak’d, I hear Strange whifper’d mufic in my ear j And my glad foul in blifs is drown’d By the fweetiy foothing found ! Me, goddefs, by the right-hand lead, Sometimes through the yellow mead ; Where Joy and Avhite-rob’d Peace refort, And Venus keeps her feftive court Where Mirth and Youth each ev’ning meet, A.nd lightly trip with nimble feet, Nodding their lily-crowned heads, Where Laughter rofe-lip’d Hebe leads j Where Echo walks deep hills among, Lift’ning to the fhepherd’s fong. Yet not thefe flow’ry fields of joy Can long my penfive mind employ ; Hafte, Fancy, from the feenes of Folly, To meet the matron Melancholy ! Goddefs of the tearful eye, • That loves to fold her arms and figh. Let us with filent footfteps go To charnels, and the houfe of wo j To Gothic churches, vaults, and tombs. Where each fad night fome virgin comes. With throbbing bread and faded cheek, Her promis’d bridegroom’s urn to feek : Or to fome abbey’s mould’ring tow’rs, Where, to avoid cold wint’ry fhow’rs, The naked beggar fhivering lies, While whiflling tempefts round her rife, And trembles led the tott’ring wall Should on her deeping infants fall. Now let us louder drike the lyre, For my heart glows with martial fire ; I feel, I feel, with fudden heat, My big tumultuous bofom beat ‘7 • The trumpet’s clangors pierce my ear, A thoufand widows Oirieks I hear : Give me another horfe, I cry ; Lo, the bafe Gallic fquadrons fly ! Whence is this rage ?—what fpirit, fay, To battle hurries m|jaway ? • ’Tis Fancy, in her fiery car, Tranfports me to the thickeft Avar ; There Avbirls me o’er the hills of flain, Where tumult and deftruftion reign •, Where, mad with pain, the Avounded deed, Tramples the dying and the dead j Where giant Terror dalks around, With fullen joy furveys the ground, And, pointing to th’ enfanguin’d field, Shakes his dreadful gorgon ftfield ! O guide me from this horrid feene To high arch’d Avalks and alleys green. Which lovely Laura feeks, to (hun The fervors of the mid-day fun. The pangs of abfence, O remove, For thou can’ft place me near my love j Can’d fold in vifionary blils, And let me think I deal a kifs 5 While her ruby lips difpenfe Lufcious ue&ar’s quinteffence !- 3 When young ey’d Spring profufely throws From her green lap the pink and rofe 5 When the foft turtle of the dale To Summer tells her tender tale ; When Autumn cooling caverns feeks, And dains with Avine his jolly cheeks y When Winter, like poor pilgrim old, Shakes his filver beard with cold } At ev’ry feafon let my Car Thy folemn Avhifpers, Fancy, hear. O Avarm enthufiadic maid ! Without thy powerful, vital aid, That breathes an energy divine, That giA'es a foul to ev’ry line, Ne’er may I drive with lips profane, To utter an unhalloAv’d drain 5 Nor dare to touch the facred dring, Save Avhen with frailes thou bid’d me fing. O hear our pray’r, O hither come From thy lamented Shakefpeare’s tomb, On Avhich thou lov’d to fit at eve, Mufing o’er thy darling’s grave. O queen of numbers, once again Animate fome chofen fAvain, Who, fill’d Avith unexhauded fire, May boldly finite the founding lyre j Who Avith fome neAV, unequall’d fong, May rife above the rhyming throng : O’er all our lid’ning paflions reign, O’erwhelm our fouls Avith joy and pain j With terror fliake, Avith pity move, Rouze Avith revenge, or melt Avith love. O deign t’attend his evening Avalk, With him in groves and grottoes talk ^ Teach him to fcorn, Avith frigid art, Feebly to touch th’ enraptur’d heart ; Like lightning, let his mighty verfe The bofom’s inmod foldings pierce j With native beauties win applaufe, Beyond cold critics dudied laAvs : O let each mufe’s fame increafe ! O bid Britannia rival Greece ! The following ode, written by Mr Smart on the 5th of December (being the birth-day of a beautiful young- lady), is much to be admired for the variety and har¬ mony of the numbers, as Avell as for the beauty of the thoughts, and the elegance and delicacy of the compli¬ ment. It has great fire, and yet great fweetnefs, and is the happy iffue of genius and judgment united. Hail elded of the monthly train, Sire of the Avinter drear, December ! in Avhofe iron reign Expires the chequer’d year. Hufh all the blud’ring blads that blow, And proudly plum’d in filver fnoAV, Smile gladly on this bled of days ; The livery’d clouds fhall on thee Avait, And Phcebus dune in all his date With more than dimmer rays. Though jocund June may judly boad Long days and happy hours ; Though Augud be Pomona’s hod, And May be crown’d Avith flowr’s : Tell Part II * Of Lyric Poetry, Part H. Of Lyric . Tell June Ins fire and crlrafon dies, Poetry. jgy Harriot’s bluili, and Harriot’s eyes, v Eclips’d and vanquifii’d, fade away j Tell Auguft, thou canfl let him fee A richer, riper fruit than he, A fweeter flow’r than May. < A paitoral The enfuing ode, written by Mr Collins on the death and elegiac of Mr Thoinfon, is of the paftoral and elegiac kind, and °^e' both piefurefque and pathetic. To perceive all the beau¬ ties of this little piece, which are indeed many, we muft fuppofe them to have been delivered on the river Thames near Richmond. In yonder grave a Druid lies, . Where flowly winds the Healing wave ; The year’s belt fweets (hall duteous rife To deck its poet’s filvan grave ! In yon deep bed of whifp’ring reeds His airy harp * {hall now be laid, That he, whofe heart in furrow bleeds, May love through life the foothing {hade. Then maids and youths {hall linger here. And, while its founds at diftance fwell, Shall fadly feem in pity’s ear To hear the woodland pilgrim’s knell. Remembrance oft {hall haunt the Ihore, When Thames in fummer wreaths is dreft, And oft fufpend the dafhing oar, To bid his gentle fpirit reft ! And oft as eafe and health retire To breezy lawn, or foreft deep, The friend Ihall view yon whitening fpire f, And ’mid the varied landfcape weep. But thou, who own’ll that earthy bed, Ah ! what will ev’ry dirge avail ? Or tears, which hrve and pity Ihed, That mourn beneath the gliding fail ? Yet lives there one, whofe heedlefs eye, Shall fcorn thy pale fhrine glimm’ring near ? With him, fweet bard, may fancy die, And joy defert the blooming year. But thou, lorn ftream, whofe fullen tide No fedge-crown’d lifters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill’s fide, Whofe cold turf hides the buried friend. And fee, the fairy valleys fade, Dim night has veil’d the folemn view ! Yet once again, dear parted {hade, Meek nature’s child, again adieu ! The genial meads, aflign’d to blefs Thy life, {hall mourn thy early doom 5 Their hinds, and Ihepherd girls, {hall drels, With fimple hands, thy rural tomb. Long, long, thy ftone and pointed clay Shall melt the mufing Briton’s eyes y O vales and wild woods, {hall he fay, In yonder grave your Druid lies ! Under this fpecies of the ode, notice ought to be ta¬ ken of thofe written on divine fubje&s, and which are ufually called hymns. Of thefe we have many in our language, but none perhaps that are fo much admired as Mr Addifon’s. The beauties of the following hymn are too well known, and too obvious, to need any com¬ mendation y we ftiall only obferve, therefore, that in this hymn (intended to difplay the power of the Almighty) 5 he feems to have had a pfalm of David in his view, Of Lyric which fays, that *‘the heavens declare the glory of God,. ^oe^' , and the firmament ftieweth his handywork.” The fpacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal Iky, And fpangled heav’ns, a {hining frame. Their great original proclaim : Th’ unwearied fun, from day to day, Does his Creator’s pow’r difplay, And publilhes to ev’ry land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the ev’ning {hades prevail, The moon takes up the wond’rous tale. And nightly to the lift’ning earth Repeats the ftory of her birth : While all the ftars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And fpread the truth from pole to pole. What tho’ in folemn filence all Move round the dark terreftrial ball ? What tho’ nor real voice or found Amid their radiant orb be found ? In reafoh’s ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, For ever finging, as they ftune, “ The hand that made us is divine.” The following paftoral hymn is a verlion of the 23d Pfa/m by Pdr Addifon j the peculiar beauties of which have occafioned many tranflatxons y but we have feen none that is fo poetical and perfect as this. And in juftice to Dr Boyce, we muft obferve, that the mufic he has adapted to it is fo fweet and exprefiive, that we know not which is to be moil admired, the poet or the mufician. The Lord my pafture {hall prepare, t And feed me with a ftiepherd’s care ; His prefence {hall my wants fupply, And guard me with a watchful eye \ My noon-day walks he {hall attend. And all my midnight hours defend. When in the fultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirfty mountain pant, To fertile vales and dewy meads My weary wand’ring fttps he leads ; Where peaceful rivers foft and flow Amid the verdant landfcape flowT. Tho’ in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overfpread, My ftedfaft heart fhall fear no ill': For thou, O Lord, art with me ftill j Thy friendly crook {hall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful ftiade.- Tho’ in a bare and rugged way, Through devious lonely wilds I ftray, Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile : The barren wildernefs {hall fmile, With hidden greens and herbage crown’d y And ftreams Qiall murmur all around'. III. We are now to fpeak of thofe odes which areThefub- of the fublime and noble kind, and diftinguiftied fromhme ode. others by their elevation of thought and ditftion, as well by tije variety or irregularity of their numbers as the frequent POETRY. * The harp of JEolus. f Rieh- mond- Church. 128 The. livmrv POE freqtfcnt ti'amitious and bold excurfions with which they are enriched. To give the young ftudent an idea of theMudden anti frequent tranfitions, digreflions, and excurnons, which are admitted into the odes of the ancient?, we cannot do better than refer him to the celebrated fong or ode of Moles j which is the oldeft that we know of and was penned by that divine author immediately after the • children of Ifrael croffed the Red fea. ^ _ At the end of this fong, we are told, that “ Miriam the prophetefs, the tiller of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her with tim¬ brels and with dances. And Miriam anfwered them, Sina ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed glori- outly j the horfe and his rider hath he thrown into the fea.’’ From this laft paflage it is plain, that the ancients very early called in mufic to the aid of poetry *, and that their odes were ufually fung, and accompanied with their lutes, harps, Ivres, timbrels, and other inllruments . nay, fo effential, and in fuch reputation, was mufie held by" the ancients, that we often find in their lyric poets, addreiTes or invocations to the harp, the lute, or the lyre ; and it was probably owing to the frequent uie made of the laft-mentioned inftrument with the ode, that this fpecies of Writing obtained the name of Lyric 1 This ode, or hymn, which fome believe was compofed bv Mofes in Hebrew verfe, is incomparably better than any thing the heathen poets have produced of the kind, and is by all good judges confidered as a mafter-piece of ancient eloquence. The thoughts are noble and iub- lime : the ftvle is magnific ent and expreffive : the figures are bold and animated : the tranfitions and excurfions are fudden and frequent : but they are fliort, and the poet having digreffed for a moment, returns immedi- keW to the great, objeft that excited his wonder, and elevated his foul with joy and gratitude. _ The images fill the mind with their greatnefs, and ftrike the imagi¬ nation in a manner not to be exprefled. If there be any thing that in fublimity approaches to it, we muft look for it in the eaft, where, perhaps we fliall find nothing fuperior to the following Hindoo hymn to Narrayna, or “ the fpirit of God,’’ taken, as Sir William Jones informs us, from the writings ct the ancient Bramins. Spirit of fpirits, who, through every part Of fpace expanded, and of endlefs time, Beyond the reach of lab’ring thought fublime, Bad’ft uproar into beauteous order ftart j Before heav’n was, thou art. Ere fpheres beneath us roll’d, or fpheres above, Ere earth in firmamental ssther hung, Thou fat’ft alone, till, through thy myftic love, Things unexifting to exiftence fprung. And grateful defcant fung. Omnifcient Spirit, whofe all-ruling pow’r Bids from each fenfo bright emanations beam ; Glows in the rainbow, fparkles in the ftream, T ft Y. Smiles In tbe bud, and gtlfter.s In tho ffow’r That crowns each vernal bow’r j Sighs in the gale, and warbles in the throat Ot every bird that hails the bloomy fpring, Or tells his love in many a liquid note, Whilft envious artifts touch the rival firing, Till rocks and forefts ring j Breathes in rich fragrance from the fandal grove. Or where the precious mutk-deer playful rove j In dulcet juice, from cluft’ring fruit diftils, And burns falubrious in the tafteful clove ; Safe banks and verd’rous hills Thy prefent influence fills : In air, in floods, in caverns, woods, and plains, Thyjwill in fpirits all, thy fovereign Maya reigns. Blue cryftal vault, and elemental fires, That in th’ ethereal fluid blaze and breathe-. Thou, tolling main, whofe fnaky branches wreathe This penfile orb with intertwifting gyres j Mountains, whofe lofty fpires, . Prefumptuous, rear their fummits to the Ikies, And blend their em’rald hue with fapphire light; Smooth meads and lawns, that glow with varying dyes Of dew-befpangled leaves and bloffoms bright, Hence ! vanifli from my fight Delofive pidlures ! unfubftantial (hows ! My foul abforb’d one only Being knows. Of all perceptions one abundant fource, Whence ev’ry objeft, ev’ry moment flows : Suns hence derive their force, Hence planets learn their courie ; But funs and fading worlds I view no more ; God only I perceive ; God only I adore (f). Part 11. Of Lyric Poetry. We come now to the Pindaric ode, which (if we ex-xlie pin_ eept the hymns in the Old Teftament, the pfalms of dark ode. King David, and fuch hymns of the Hindoos as that juft quoted) is the rooft .exalted part of lyric poetry; and was fo called from Pindar, an ancient Greek poet, who is celebrated for the boldnefs of his flights, the im- petunfity of his ftyle, and the feeming wildnefs and.ir- regularity that runs through his compofitions, and which are laid to be the effect of the greateft art. See Pix- The odes of Pindar were held in fueh high eftima- tion by the ancients, that it was fabled, in honour of their fweetnefs, that the bees, while he was in the cradle, brought honey to his lips : nor did the viftors at the Olympic and other games think the crown a fufficient reward for their merit, uhlefs their atchievements were celebrated in Pindar’s fongs ; moft wifely prefaging, that the firft would decay, but the other would endure for ever. , . r This poet did not always write his odes m the lame meafure, or with the fame intention with regard to their being fung. For the ode inferibed to Diagoras (the concluding ftanza of which we inferted at the beginning of this fe£Vion) is in heroic meafure, and all the ftanzaa are equal: there are others alfo, as Mr Weft obferves, 1 made (Fl For the pMofophy of this ode, which reprefonts the Deity the “ of 01 ^ 01’ly neing (the r. .. of the Greeks), fee MetapHVHCS, N 269. and PHILOSOPHT, N 0. Part II. P O E Of Lyric maJe up ofJl^splies and auti/lrophes, without any cpodei ,t Poetry. and fome Compofed oljirophes only, of different lengths ^ and meafures: but the greateft part of his odes are di¬ vided intoJlrophe, citttijirophe, and epodcj m older, as Mr Congreve conjectures, to their being lung, and ad- dreffed by the performers to different parts of the au¬ dience. “ They were fung (fays he) by a chorus and adapted to the lyre, and fometimes to the lyre-and pipe. They confided oftene.lt of three ftanzas. The firft was called theJlrophe, from the verfion or circular motion of the fingers in that ftanza from the right hand to the left. The fecond ftanza was called the untijlrophe, from the contraverfton of the chorus; the fingers in performing that, turning from the left hand tothe right, contrary al¬ ways to their motion in theJirophe. 1 he tun'd flar.za was called the (it may be as being the after-fong), which they fung in the middle, neither turning to one. hand * Vid.Prf/nor the other. But Dr Weft’s * friend is of opinion, rs Weft's ' that the performers alfo danced one way while they were Pindar. finging theJlrophe, and danced back as they fung the an- tijlrophc, till they came to the fame place again, and then Handing ftill they fung the epode. He has translated a paffage from the Scholia on Hephajlian, in proof of his opinion ; and obferves, that the dancing \k\eJlrophe and antijlrophe in the fame fpace of ground, and we may fup- pofe the fame fpace of time alfo, fhovvs why thofe two parts confided of the fame length and meafure. As the various meafures of Pindar’s odes have been the means of fo far milleading fome of our modern poets, as to induce them to call compofitions Pindaric odes, that were not written in the method of Pindar, it is ne- ceffary to be a little more particular on this head, and to give an example from that poet, the more effectually to explain his manner ; which we (hall take from the tranflation of Dr Weft. The eleventh NemEAN OdE. This ode is aferibed to Ariftagora«, upon oceafion of his entering on his office of prefident or governor of the ifland of Tenedos : fo that, although it is placed among the Nemean odes, it has no fort of relation to thofe games, and is indeed properly an inauguration ode, compofed to be fung by a chorus at the facrifices and the feafts made by Ariftagoras and his colleagues, in the town-hall, at the time of their being inverted with the magiftracy, as is evident from many expreffions in the iirft Jlropfie and antijlrophe^ T R Y. 7 beauty, ftrength, courage, riches, and glory, re fulling (g)^yric from his many victories in the games. But left he , « lliould be too much puffed up with thefe praifes, he re¬ minds him at the fame time of his mortality, and tells him that his clothing of tlefti is periffiable, that he muft e’er long be clothed with earth, the end oj all things ; and yet, continues he, it is but juiiice to praife and celebrate the worthy and deferving, who from good citizens ought to receive all kinds of honour and com¬ mendation ; as Ariftagoras, for inltance, who'hath ren¬ dered both himfelf and his country illuftrious by the many victories he hath obtained, to the number of fix- teen, over the neighbouring youth, in the games ex¬ hibited in and about his own. country. From whence, fays the poet, I conclude he would have come off vic¬ torious even in the Pythian and Olympic games, had he not been reftrained from engaging in thofe famous- lifts by the too timid and cautious love of his parents. Upon which he falls into a moral re tie Cl ion upon the vanity of man’s hopes and fears ; by the former of which they are oftentimes excited to attempts beyond their fhrength, which accordingly iffue in their difgrace; as, on the other hand, they are frequently reftrained, by unreafonable and ill-grounded fears, from enterprifes, i:i which they would in all probability have come off with honour. This reflexion he applies to Ariftagoras, by faying it was very eafy to forefee what fuccefs he was like to meet with, who both by father and mother was defeended from a long train of great and valiant men. But here again, with a very artful turn of flattery to his father Arcefilas, whom he had before reprefented as flrong and valiant, and famous for his victories in the games, he obferves that every generation, even of a great and glorious family, is not equally illuftrious any more than the fields and trees are every year equally fruitful ; that the gods had not given mortals any cer¬ tain tokens by which they might foreknow when the rich years of virtue fhould fucceed; whence it comes to paff, that men, out of felf-conceit and prefumption, are perpetually laying febemes, and forming enterprifes, without previoufly confulting prudence or wifdom, whofe f reams, fays lie, lie remote and out of the com¬ mon road. From all which he infers, that it is better to moderate our defires, and fet bounds to our avarice and ambition ; with which moral precept he concludes the ode. Strophe I. Argument. Pindar opens this ode with an invocation to Vefta (the goddefs who prefided over the courts of juft ice, and whofe ftatue and altar were for that reafon placed in the town-halls, or Prytaneeums, as the Greeks called them), befeeching her to receive favourably Ariftagoras and his colleagues, who were then coming to offer facrifices to her, upon their entering on their office of Pry tans or magiftrates of Tenedos; which office continuing for a year, he begs the goddefs to take Ariftagoras under her prote.ftion during that time, and to condu£Fhim to the end of it without trouble or difgraee. From Ari¬ ftagoras, Pindar turns himfelf in the next place to his father Arcefilas, whom he pronounces happy, as well upon account of his fon’s merit and honour, as upon his own great endowments and good fortune : fuch as 4. Daughter of Rhea ! thou, whofe holy fire Before t he awful feat of juft ice flames ! Sifter of heav’n’s almighty fire ! Sifter of Juno, who coequal claims With Jove to (hare the empire of the gods 1 . O virgin Vefta ! to thy dread abodes, I.o ! Ariftagoras directs his pace ! Receive and ne.tr thy facred feeptre place Him, and his colleagues, who, with honeft zeal, O’er Tenedos prefide, and guard the public weak Antistrofhe I. And lo ! with frequent off’rings, they adore Th ee*, firft invok’d in every folemn pray’r ! To thee unmix’d libations pour, And Jill with od’rous fumes the fragrant air. Around * It way ufual in ali folemn fa¬ crifices and prayers to begin with invoking Ycffg* POE Around in Jeftive fongs tlie hymning choir Mix the melodious voice and founding lyre, While ftill, prolong’d with hofpitable love, Are folemniz’d the rites of genial Jove : Then guard him, Vella, through his long career, And let him dole in joy his miniilerial year, Efode I. But hail, Arcefilas ! all hail To thee, blefs’d father of a fon fo great! Thou whom on fortune’s higheft fcale The favourable hand of heav’n hath fet, Thy manly form with beauty hath refin’d, And match’d that beauty with a valiant mind. Yet let not man too much prefume, Tho’ grac’d with beauty’s faireft bloom ; Tho’ for fuperior drength renown’d j Tho’ with triumphal chaplets crown’d : Let him remember, that, in flelh array’d, Soon lhall he fee that mortal veftment fade j Till loft, imprifon’d in the mould’ring urn, To earth, the end of all things, he return. - Strophe II. Of Lyric Poetry. T R Y. Part II. Strophe III. Of Lyric Poetry. But who could err in prophefying good v Of him, whofe undegenerating breaft Swells with a tide of Spartan blood, From fire to fire in long fucceflion trac’d Up to Pifander $ who in days of yore From old Amyclse to the Lelbian Ihore And Tenedos, colleagu’d in high command With great Oreftes, led th’ Alolian band ? Nor was his mother’s race lefs ftrong and brave, Sprung from a flock that grew on fair * Ifmenus’ wave.* Ifmenu$ was a river Antistrophe III. Tho’ for long intervals obfcur’d, again Oft-times the feeds of lineal worth appear. For'neither can the furrow’d plain Full harvefts yield with each returning year 5 Nor in each period will the pregnant bloom Inveft the fmiling tree with rich perfume. So, barren often, and inglorious, pafs The generations of a noble race ; While nature’s vigour, working at the root, In after-ages fwells, and bloffoms into fruit. of Eoeotia, of vvhich country was Menatip- pus, the an- ceftor of A- riftagoras by the mo¬ ther’s (ide. Yet fliould the -worthy from the public tongue Beceive their recompenfe of virtuous praife ; By ev’ry zealous patriot fung, And’deck’d with ev’ry flow’r of heav’nly lays. Such retribution in return for fame, Such, Ariftagoras, thy virtues claim, Claim from thy country on whofe glorious brows The wreftler’s chaplet ftill unfaded blows ; Mix’d with the great Pancratiaftic crown, Which from the neighb’ring youth thy early valour won. Antistrophe II. * And (but his timid parents’ cautious love, Difturbing ever his too forward hands, Forbade their tender fon to prove The toils of Pythia or Olympia’s fands), 1- A river. Now by the Gods I fwear, his valorous might Upon whofe Had ’fcap’d vi&orious in each bloody fight; banks the from Caftaliaf, or where dark with fhade Pythian ^The mount of Saturn J rears its olive head, exhibited™ Great and illuftrious home had he return’d ; + A fmall While, by his fame eclips’d, his vanquilh’d foes had hill planted [mourn’d, with olives, that over- EpODE II. looked the ftadium at Xhen his triumphal treffes bound Olympia, the dark verdure of th’ Olympic grove, With joyous banquets had he crown’d The great quinquennial feftival of Jove j And cheer’d the folemn pomp with choral lays, Sweet tribute, which the mufe to virtue pays. But, fuc-h is man’s prepoft’rous fate ! Now, with o’er-weening pride elate, Too far he aims Ins fhaft to throw, And ftraining burfts his feeble bow : Now pufillanimous deprefs’d with fear, He checks his virtue in the mid career;. / And of his ftrength diftruftful, coward Hies The conteft, tho’ empow’rd to gain the prize. Epode III. Nor hath Jove giv’n us to foreknow When the rich years of virtue {hall fucceed : Yet bold and daring on we go, Contriving fchemes of many a mighty deed $ While hope, fond inmate of the human mind, And felf-opinion, aftive, rafti, and blind, Hold up a falfe illufive ray, That leads our dazzled feet aftray Far from the fprings, where, calm and flow, The fecret ftreams of wifdom flow. Hence fliould we learn our ardour to reftrain, And limit to due bounds the thirft of gain. To rage and madnefs oft that paflion turns, Which with forbidden flames defpairing burns. I3I From the above fpecimen, and from what we have Diftinguuh- already faid on this fubjeft, -the reader will perceive, ir g charac- that odes of this fort are diftinguiflied by the happy tersofit‘ tranfitions and digrefllons which they admit, and the furprifing yet natural returns to the fubjeft. This re¬ quires great judgment and genius j and the poet who would excel in this kind of writing, fliould draw the plan of his poem, in manner of the argument we have above inferted, and mark out the places where thofe elegant and beautiful failles and wanderings.may be made, and where the returns will be eafy and proper. Pindar, it is univerfally allowed, had a poetical and fertile imagination, a warm and enthufiaftic genius, a bold and figurative expreflion, and a concife and fen- tentious ftyle : but it is generally fuppofed'that many of thofe pieces which procured him fuch extravagant praifes and extraordinary teftimonies of efteetn from the ancients are loft •, and if they were not, it would be perhaps impoffible to convey them into our language 5 for beauties of this kind, like plants of an gdoriferous and delicate nature, are not to be tranfplanted into ano¬ ther clime without lofing much of their fragrance or eflential quality. With Part II, POE Of Lyric With regard to thofe compofitions which are ufually . , called Pindaric odes, (but which ought rather to be di- flinguilhed by the name of irregular odes'), we have' Modem many in our language that deferve particular commen- odes com- Nation : the criticifm which Mr Congreve has given us ledEi d^" °n t^at ^uoje(^:’ ^ias tow rnuc^ asperity and too great , jc 1 a" latitude ; for if other writers have, by miftaking Pin¬ dar’s meafures, given their odes an improper title, it is a crime, one would think, not fo dangerous to the commonwealth of letters as to deferve fuch fevere re¬ proof. Befide which, we may fuppofe that fome of thefe writers did not deviate from Pindar’s method through ignorance, but by choice ; and that,as their odes were not to be performed with both finging and dancing, in the manner of Pindar’s, it feemed unnecef- fary to confine the firft and fecond ftanzas to the fame exaft number as was done in his flrophes and anti- ftrophes. The poet therefore had a right to indulge himfelf with more liberty : and we cannot help thinking, that the ode which Mr Dryden has given us, entitled, Alexander's Feajl, or the Power of Mufic, is altogether as valuable in loofe and wild numbers, as it could have been if the ftanzas were more regular, and written in the manner of Pindar. In this ode there is a wonder¬ ful fublimity of thought, a loftinefs and fweetnefs of expreflion, and a moft pleafing variety of numbers. ’Twas at the royal feaft, for Perfia won By Philip’s warlike fon, Aloft, in awful ftate, The god-like hero fate On his imperial throne : His valiant peers were plac’d around j Their brows with rofes and with myrtles bound, (So fhould defert in arms be crown’d) : The lovely Thais by his fide Sat like a blooming eaftern bride, In flow'r of youth and beauty’s pride. Happy, happy, happy pair ! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deferve the fair. Chor. Happy, Happy, See. 'Timotheus, plac’d on high Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touch’d the lyre : The trembling notes afeend the Iky, And heav’nly joys infpire. The fong began from Jove, Who left his blifsful feats above, (Such is the pow’r of mighty love !) A dragon’s fiery form bely’d the god : Sublime on radiant fpires he rode, When he to fair Olympia prefs’d ; And while he fought her fnowy breaft : Then round her (lender waift he curl’d, And damp’d an image of himfelf, a fovereign of the world, The lift’ning crowd admire the lofty found. A prefent deity, they Ihout around ; A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound : With ravilh’d ears The monarch hears, Wol. XVII. Part I. T R Y. Aflumes the gou, Affedts to nod, , And feems to (hake the fpheres. Chor. With ravijh'd ears, &c. The praife of Bacchus then the fweet tnufician fung; Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young : The jolly god in triumph comes ; Sound the trumpets, beat the drums : Flufh’d with a purple grace, He (hows his honeft face : Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes ! Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did firft ordain : Bacchus’ bleflings are a treafure, Drinking is the foldier’s pleafure : Rich the treafure, Sweet the pleafure : Sweet the pleafure after pain. Chor. Bacchus'1 hleffings, &c. Sooth’d with the found, the king grew vain, • Fought all his battles o’er again ; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he flew the flain. The mafter law the madnefs rife ; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; And while he heav’n and earth defy’d, Chang’d his hand, and check’d his pride. He chofe a mournful mufe Soft pity to infule : He fung Darius great and good, By too fevere a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high eftate, And welt’ring in his blood ; Deferted at his utmoft need, By thofe his former bounty fed, On the bare earth expos’d he lies, With not a friend to clofe his eyes. With downcaft looks the joylefs vi&or fat, Revolving in his alter’d foul The various turns of chance below ; And noAV- and then a figh he Hole, And tears began to flow. Chor. Revolving, &.c. The mighty mafter fmil’d to fee That love was in the next degree : ’Twas but-a kindred found to move ; For pity melts the mind to love. Softly fweet, in Lydian meafures : Soon he footh’d his foul to pleafures. War, he fung, is toil and trouble ; Honour but an empty bubble, Never ending, ftill beginning, Fighting ftill, and llill deftroying. If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think, it worth enjoying. Lovely Thais fits befide thee, T.ake the good the gods provide thee. The many rend the Ikies with loud applaufe-; So love was crown’d, but mufic won the caufe. The prince, unable to conceal his pain. Of Lyric Poetry. Gaz’d on the fair, Who caus’d his care, B And lO Of Lyric Poetry. POETRY. And figh’d ana Iook u, ngn’a ana iootC'cl, Sigh’d and look’d, and figh’d again: At length with love and wine at once opprefs’d, The vanquilh’d vi&or funk upon her bread. Chor. T/ie prince, &c. Notv flrike the golden lyre again j A louder yet, and yet a louder drain. Break his bands of deep afunder, And roufe him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark ! hark ! the horrid found Has rais’d up his head, As awake from the dead, And amaz’d he dares around. Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the furies arife : See the brakes that they rear, How they hifs in their hair, And the fparkles that dadi from their eyes! Behold a ghadly band, Each a torch in his hand ! Thofe are Grecian ghods that in battle were flain, And unbury’d remain. Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengence due To the valiant crew. Behold how they tofs their torches on high, How they point to the Perfian abodes, And glitt’ring temples of their hodile gods. The princes applaud with a furious joy 5 And the king feiz’d a flambeau, with zeal to dedroy $ Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, die fir’d another Troy. Chor. And the king feirfd, &c. Thus long ago, Ere heaving bellows learnt to blow, While organs yet were mute j Timotheus, to his breathing dute, And founding lyre, Could fwell the foul of rage, or kindle foft defire. At lad divine Cecilia came, Inventrefs of the vocal frame j The fweet enthufiad, from her facred dore, Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds, And added length to folemn founds, With nature’s mother-wit,and artsunknownbefore. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown : He rais’d a mortal to the Ikies j She drew an angel down. Grand chor. At See. There is another poem by Dryden, on the death of Mrs Anne Killegrew, a young lady eminent for her {kill in poetry and painting, which a great critic * has \ Dr John- pronounced to be « undoubtedly the nobled ode that our language has ever produced.” He owns, that as a whole it mav perhaps be inferior to Alexander's Feaji; but he affirms'that the fird danza of it is fuperior to any fingle part of the other. This famous danza, he fays, fiows with a torrent of enthufiafm : Fervet immenfufque ruit. How far this criticifm is jud, the public mud determine. L Thou younged virgin-daughter of the Ikies, Made ip the lad promotion of the blefs’d j Whofe palms, new-pluck’d from Paradife, In fpreading branches more fublimely rife, Rich with immortal green above the red j Whether, adopted to feme neighb’ring liar, Thou roll’d above us, in thy wand’ring race* Or in proceffion fix’d and regular, Mov’d with the heav’n’s majedic pace; Or call’d to more fuperior blifs, Thou tread’d with feraphims the vad abyfs: Whatever happy region is thy place, Ceafe thy celedial fong a little fpace; Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine. Since heaven’s eternal year is thine. Hear then a mortal mufe thy praife rehearfe In no ignoble verfe ; Bat fuch as thy own voice did pra&ife here. When thy fird fruits of poefy were giv’n To make thyfelf a welcome inmate there, While yet a young probationer, And candidate of heav’n. II. If by tradu&ion came thy mind, Our wonder is the lefs to find A foul fo charming from a dock fo good j Thy father was transfus’d into thy blood, So wert thou born into a tuneful drain, An early, rich, and inexhauded vein. But if thy pre-exiding foul Was form’d at fird with myriads more, It did through all the mighty poets roll, Who Greek or Latin laurels wore, And was that Sappho lad which once it was before. If fo, then ceafe thy flight, O heaven-born mind ! Thou had no drofs to purge from thy rich ore, Nor can thy foul a fairer manfion find, Than was the beauteous frame Ihe left behind Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celedial kind HI. May we prefume to fay, that, at thy birth. New joy was fprung in heav’n, as well as here on earth ? For fure the milder planets did combine On thy aufpicious horofeope to fliine, And e’en the mod malicious were in trine. Thy brother angels at thy birth Strung each his lyre, and tun’d it high, That all the people of the Iky Might know a poetefs was born on earth. And then, if ever, mortal ears Had heard the mufic of the fpheres. And if no clud’ring fvvarm of bees On thy fweet mouth diddl’d their golden dewq ’Twas that fuch vulgar miracles Heav’n had not leifure to renew : For all thy blefs’d fraternity of love Solemniz’d there thy birth, and kept thy holy day abovK IV. O gracious God ! how far have we Profan’d thy heav’nly gift of poefy ? Made proditute and profligate the Mufe, Debas’d to each obfeene and impious ufe, Whofe harmony was fird ordain’d above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love ? O wretched me! why were we hurry’d down This lubriqtte and adult’rate aga, (my Part II. Of Lyric Poetry. nd.^ h? } POETRY. Part TL Of Lyric Poetrv. lild. } (Nay added fat pollutions of our own) T’increafe the dreaming ordures of the ftage ! What can we fay t’excufe our fecond fall ? Let tliis thy veilal, Heav’n, atone for all: Her Arethufian dream remains unfoil’d, Unmix’d with foreign filth, and undefil’d} Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child V. Art die had none, yet wanted none j For nature did that want fupply : So rich in treafure of her own, She might our beaded dores defy : Such noble vigour did her verfe adorn, That it feem’d borrow’d where rtwas only borfl-. Her morals, too, were in her bofom bred, By great examples daily fed, What in the bed of books, her father’s life die read. And to be read herfeif, (he need not fear; Each ted, and every light, her Mufe will bear, Tho’ Epictetus with his lamp were there. E’en love (for love fometimes her Mufe exprefs’d) Wras but a lambent dame which play’d about her bread, Light as the vapours of a morning dream, So cold herfeif, while (he fuch warmth exprefs’d, ■’Twas Cupid bathing in Diana’s dream. VI. Born to the fpacious empire of the Nine, One would have thought Ihe fhould have been content To manage well that mighty government ; But what can young ambitious fouls confine ? To the next realm die dretch’d her fway, For Painture near adjoining lay, A plenteous province and alluring prey. A Chamber of Dependencies was fram’d. (As conquerors will never want pretence, When arm’d, to judify th’ offence) And the whole fief, in right of poetry, die claim’d. The country open lay without defence : For poets frequent inroads there had made, And perfedlly could reprefent The lhape, the face, with ev’ry lineament, And all the large domains which the dumb fjier fway’d. All bow’d beneath her government, Receiv’d in triumph wherefoe’er die went. Her pencil drew rvhate’er her foul defign’d. And oft the happy draughtfurpafs’d the image in her mind. The fylvan fcenes of herds and docks, And fruitful plains and barren rocks, Of diallow brooks that fiow’d fo clear, The bottom did the top appear; Of deeper too, and ampler hoods, Which, as in mirrors, fhow’d the woods: Of lofty trees, with facred (hades, And perfpe&ives of pleafant glades, Where nymphs of brighted: form appear, And fhaggy fatyrs danding near, Which them at once admire and fear. The ruins too of fome majedic piece, Boading the power of ancient Rome or Greece, Whofe datues, friezes, columns, broken lie, And, though defac’d, the wonder of the eye ; What nature, art, bold fi&ion, e’er durd frame, Her forming hand gave feature to the name. So drange a concourfe ne’er was feen before, But when the peopl'd ark the whole creation bore. } 1 1 VII. The fcene then chang’d, with bold ere fled look Our martial king the fight with rev’rence druck: For not content t’exprefs his outward part Her hand call’d out the image of his heart : His warlike mind, his foul devoid of fear, His high-deligning thoughts were figur’d there, As when, by magic, ghods are made appear. Our phoenix queen was pourtray’d too fo bright, Beauty alone could beauty take fo right: Her drefs, her diape, her matchlefs grace, Were all obferv’d, as vrell as heav’nly face. With fuch a peerlefs majedy (he dands. As in that day (he took the crown from facred hands j Before a train of heroines was feen, In beauty foremod, as in rank, the queen. Thus nothing to her genius was denied, But like a ball of fire the further thrown, Still with a greater blaze (he (hone, And her bright foul broke ©ut on ev’ry fide. What next (he had defign’d, Heav’n only knows : T To fuch iramod’rate growth her conqued rofe, 5- That fate alone its progrefs could oppofe. j VIII. Now all thofe charms, that blooming grace, The well-proportion’d diape, and beauteous face, Shall never more be feen by mortal eyes; In earth the much lamented virgin lies. Nor wit nor piety could fate prevent j Nor was the cruel Deftiny content To finilh all the murder at a blow, To fweep at once her life and beauty too $ But like a harden’d felon, took a pride To work more mifehievoufly dow And plunder’d fird, and then dedroy’d. O double facrilege on things divine, To rob the relick, and deface the dirine ! But thus Orinda died : Heav’n, by the fame difeafe, did both tranflatc j As equal were their fouls, fo equal was their fate. IX. Meantime her warlike brother on the feas His waving dreamers to the winds difplays. And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays. Ah generous youth ! that wi(h forbear. The winds too foon will waft thee here ! Slack all thy fsiils, and fear to come, Alas, thou know’d not, thou art wreck’d at home l No more (halt thou behold thy fider’s face, Thou had already had her lad embrace. But look aloft, and if thou kenn’d from far, Among the Pleiads a new kindled dar, If any fparkles than the red more bright, ’Tis die that dimes in that propitious light. When in mid-air the golden trump diall found. To raife the nations under ground j When in the valley of Jeholhaphat, The judging God (hall clofe the book of fate j And there the lad q/fifes keep For thofe who wake and thofe who deep :~ When rattling bones together fly From the four corners of the fky ; When finews o’er the Ikeletons are fpread, Thofe cloth’d with fleih, and life infpires the dead ; B 2 The I X Of Lyric Poetry. 12 P o Of Lyric Xhe facred poets firfl thall hear the found, t>‘jetr-y' And foremoft from the tomb fliall bound, For they are cover’d with the lighteft ground 5 And ftraight with in-born vigour, on the wing, Like mounting larks to the new morning fing. There thou, fweet faint, before the quire {halt go As harbinger of heav’n, the way to thow, The way which thou fo well halt learnt ,below. } 1 That this is a fine ode, and not unworthy of the ge¬ nius of Dryden, muft be acknowledged ; but that it is the nobleft which the Englifh language has produced, or that any part of it runs with the torrent of enthufi- afm which characterizes Alexander1 s Feaji, are pofitions which w’e feel not ourfelves inclined to admit. Had the critic by whom it is fo highly praifed, infpeCted it with the eye which fcanned the odes of Gray, we cannot help thinking that he would have perceived fome parts of it to be tediouily minute in defcription, and others not very perfpicuous at the firft perufal. It may per¬ haps, upon the whole, rank as high as the following ode by Collins on the Popular Superflitions of the High¬ lands of Scotland 5 but to a higher place it has furely no claim. I. Home, thou return’d from Thames, whofe Naiads long Have feen thee ling’ring with a fond delay, Mid thofe foft friends, whofe heart fome future day, Shall melt, perhaps,-to hear thy tragic fong, Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth (g) Whom, long endear’d, thou leav’ft by Lavant’s fide j Together let us wifh him lafting truth, And joy untainted with his defiin’d bride. Go ! nor regardlefs, while thefe numbers boaft My fliort-liv’d blifs, forget my focial name j But think, far off, how’, on the fouthern coafi, I met thy friendff.ip with an equal flame ! ♦ whofe. Frefti to that foil thou turn’ll, where * ev’ry vale Shall prompt the poet, and his fong demand : To thee thy copious fubjcCfs ne’er {hail fail; Thou need’ll but take thy pencil to thy hand, And paint what all. believe who own thy genial land. II. There muff thou wake perforce thy Doric quill 5 ’Tis fancy’s land to which thou fett’lf thy feet ; Where {till, ’tis faid, the Fairy people meet, Beneath each birken {hade, on mead or hill. There, each trim lafs, that fkims the milky ftore, To the fwart tribes their creamy bowl allots; By night they fip it round the cottage-door, While airy minftrels warble jocund notes. "TRY. Part II. There, ev’ry herd, by fad experience, knows, Of Lyric How, wing’d with Fate, their elf {hot arrows fly, ^ Pot‘try- When the fiek ewe her fummer food foregoes, " " ~f Or, llretch’d on earth, the h And, touch’d Avith love like mine, preferve my abfent friend ! f fpacious. J 'Hire* ri¬ vers in Scotland. Dr Johnfon, in his life of Collins, informs us, that Dr Warton and his brother, Avho had feen this ode in the author’s poffeflion, thought it fuperior to his other Avorks. The tafte of the Wartons Avill hardly be que- ftioned : but Ave are not fure that the folloAving Ode to the Pujfons has much lefs merit, though it be merit of a different kind, than the Ode on the Superftitions of the Highlands : WHEN Mufic, heav’nly maid, Avas young. While yet in early Greece (he fung, The Paffions oft, to hear her ftiell, Throng’d around her magic cell, Exulting* trembling, raging, fainting, Poffeft beyond the Mufe’s painting ; By turns they felt the gloAving mind Difturb’d, delighted, rais’d, refin’d. Till once, ’tis faid, Avhen all Avere fir’d, Fill’d Avith fury, rapt, infpir’d. From the fupporting myrtles round They fnatch’d her inftruments of found : And (p) One of the Hebrides is called the Ife of Pigmies, Avhere it is reported, that feveral miniature bones of the human fpecies have been dug up in the ruins of a chapel there. (qj Tcolmkill, one of the Hebrides, Avhere many of the ancient Scottifli, Irilh, and NoTAvegian kings, are faid to be interred. (r) Tift line Avanting in D^* Carlyle’s edition. (s) This line Avanting in Dr Carlyle’s edition. (t) This line Avanting in Dr Carlyle’s edition. (u) Ben Jonfon paid a vifit on foot in J619 to the Scotch poet Drummond, at his leat of HaAVthornden, within feven miles of Edinburgh. (x) Barrow, it feems, was at the univerfity of Edinburgh, which is in the county of Lothian. Part II. P O Of Lyric And as they oft had heard apart Poetry. Sweet leffons of her forceful art, ’ Each, for madnefs rul’d the hour, Would prove his own expreflive power. Firfl: Fear his hand, its fldll to try, Amid the chords bewilder’d laid, And back recoil’d, he knew not why, Ev’n at the found himfelf had made. Next Anger rulh’d ; his eyes on fire, In lightnings own’d his fecret flings j In one rude clafli he ftruck the lyre, And fwept with hurried hand the firings. ' With woeful meafures wan Defpair— Low fullen founds his grief beguil’d 5 A folemn, flrange, and mingled air ; ’Twas fad by fits, by flarts ’twas wild. But thou, O Hope ! with eyes fo fair, What was thy delighted meafure ? Still it whifper’d promis’d pleafure, And bade the lovely feenes at diflance hail !■— Still would her touch the drain prolong, And from the rocks, the wmods, the vale, She call’d on Echo flill through all her fong $ And where her fweeteft theme fhe chofe, A foft refponfive voice wa* heard at every clofe, And Hope enchanted fail’d, and wav’d her golden hair. And longer had (he fung ^—but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rofe ; He threw his blood-flain’d fword in thunder down, And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blatl fo loud and dread, Were ne’er prophetic founds fo full of woe. And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum vdth furious heat; And though fometimes, each dreary paufe between, Dejefted Pity at his fide Her foul-fubduing voice applied, Yet flill he kept his wild unalter’d mien, While each ftrain’d ball of fight feem’d burfling from his head. Thy numbers, Jealoufy, to nought were fix’d, Sad proof of thy dillrefsful flate ; Of differing themes the veering fong was mix’d 5 And now it courted Love, now raving call’d on Hate. With eyes up-rais’d, as one infpir’d, Pale Melancholy fat retir’d, And from her wild fequefter’d feat, In notes by diflance made more fweet. Pour’d through the mellow horn her penfive foul, And dafhing fbft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join’d the found ; Through glades and glooms the mingled meafure Hole, Or o’er fome haunted ftreams with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffufing, Love of peace, and lonely mufing, In hollow murmurs died away. But O ! how alter’d was its fprightlier tone ! When Cheerfulnefs, a nymph of healthiefl hue. Her bow acrofs her fhoulder flung, Her bufkins gemm’d with morning dew, T R 15 Blew an infpiring air, that dale and thicket rung, Of Lyric The hunter’s call to Faun and Dryad known $ . Foc'try‘ . The oak-crown’d fifters, and their chafte-ey’d queen. Satyrs and fylvan boys ivere feen, Peeping from forth their alleys green 5 Brown Exercife rejoic’d to hear, And Sport leapt up, and feiz’d his beechen fpear. I.aft came Joy’s ecftatic trial $ He, with viny crown advancing, Firfl; to the lively pipe his hand addreft, But foon he faw the brifk awakening viol, Whofe fweet entrancing voice he lov’d the befl. They would have thought who heard the ftrain, They faw in Tempe’s vale her native maids, Amidfl: the feftal founding fhades, To fome unwearied minflrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kifs’d the firings, Love fram’d with Mirth a gay fantaftic round : Loofe were her treffes feen, her zone unbound} And he amidft his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thoufand odours from his dewy wings. O mufic ! fphere-defeended maid, Friend of pleafure, wifdom’s aid, Why, Goddefs, why to us denied ? Lay’ft thou thy ancient lyre afide ? As in that lov’d Athenian bower, You learn’d an all-commanding power': Thy mimic foul, O Nymph endear’d, Can well recal what then it heard. Where is thy native Ample heart, Devote to virtue, fancy, art ? Arife, as in that elder time, Warm, energic, chafle, fublime ! Thy wonders, in that god-like age, Fill thy recording filter’s page— ’Tis faid, and I believe the tale, Thy humblefl: reed could more prevail, Had more of ftrength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age y Ev’n all at once together found Caecilia’s mingled world of found— O ! bid our vain endeavours ceafe, Revive the juft defigns of Greece, Return in all thy fimple ftate ! Confirm the tales her fons relate. We fhall conclude this feflion, and thefe examples, with Gray’s Progre/s ofPoefy, which, in fpite of the ie- verity of Johnfon’s criticifa, certainly ranks high among the odes which pretend to fublimity. The firft ftanza, when examined by the frigid rules of grammatical criti- cifa, is certainly not faultlefs: but its faults will be overlooked by every reader who has any portion of the author’s fervour : I. I. Awake, ALolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling firings: From Helicon’s harmonious fprings A thoufand rills their mazy progrefs take; The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich ftream of mufic winds along, Deep, majeftic, faooth, and ftrong, Thro’ §6 Of Lyric Poetry, P O E T Pv Y. Part II. Thro’ verdant vales, and Ceres’ golden reign : Now rolling down the fteep amain, Headlong, impetuous, fee it pour : The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. I. 2. Oh ! Sovereign of the willing foul. Parent of fweet and fblemn-breathing airs. Enchanting fhell ! the fullen cares, And frantic paflions, hear thy foft controul. On Thracia’s hills the lord of war Has curb’d the fury of his car, And dropp’d his thirfty lance at thy command. Perching on the feeptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather’d king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : (Quench’d in dark clouds of Humber lie The terror pf his beak, and lightnings of his eye. !. 3- Thee the voice, the dance, obey. Temper’d to thy warbled lay : O’er Idalia’s velvet green The rofy-crowned loves are feen. On Cytherea’s day, With antic fports, and blue^ey’d pleafures, Frifking light in frolic meafures j Now purfuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet ; To brilk notes, in cadence beating, Glance their many twinkling feet. Slow melting ft rains their queen’s approach declare : Where’er {he turns, the Graces homage pay. With arms fublirae, that float upon the air, In gliding ftate Are wins her eafy way : o ’er her warm cheek, and rifing bofom, move The bloom of young delire, and purple light of love. IT. i. Man’s feeble race what ills await •, Labour, and penury, the racks of pain, Difeafe, and forrow’s weeping train, And death, fad refuge from the ftorms of fate.! The fond complaint, my fong, difprove, And juftify the laws of Jove. Say, has he giv’n in vain the heav’nly mufe ? Night, and all her fickly dews, Her fpeftres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary Iky : Till down the eaftern cliffs afar, Hyperion’s march they fpy, and glitt’ring (hafts of war. II. 2. In climes beyond the folar road, Where fhaggy forms o’er ice-built mountains roam, The Mufe has broke the twilight-gloom. To cheer the ftuv’ring native’s dull abode. And oft, beneath the od’rous (hade Of Chili’s boundlefs forefts laid, She deigns to hear the favage youth repeat, In loofe numbers wildly fweet, Their feather-cin&ur’d chiefs, and dulky loves. Her track, where’er the goddefs roves, Glory purfue, and gen’rous ftiame, Th’ unconquerable mind, and freedom’s holy flame. II. 3- . Woods, that wave o’er Delphi’s fteep, liles, that crown the /Egean deep, Of Lyric Poetry, Fields, that cool Iliffus-laves, Or where Mgeander’s amber waves In ling’ring lab’rinths creep, How do your tuneful echoes languifti, Mute, but to the voice of anguifh ! Where each old poetic mountain Infpiration breath’d around ; Ev’ry fhade and -hallow’d fountain Murmur’d deep a folemn found : Till the fad nine, in Greece’s evil hour. Left their Parnaffus for the Latian plains. > Alike they fcorn the pomp of tyrant power, And coward vice that revels in her chains. When Latium had her lofty fpirit loft, They fought, oh Albion ! next thy fea-encircled coaft. HI. i. Far from the fun, and fummer-gale, In thy green lap was nature’s * darling laid, * Shake. What time, rvhere lucid Avon ftray’d, fpeare. To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face : the dauntlefs child Stretch’d forth his little, arms, and fmil’d. This pencil take ({he faid) whofe colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine too thefe golden keys, immortal boy ! This can unlock the gates of joy j Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the facred fource of fympathetic tears. III. 2. Nor fecond he f, that rode fublime | Milton, Upon the feraph wings of ecftacy, The fecrets of th’ abyfs to fpy. He pafs’d the flaming bounds of place and time : The living throne, the fapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He faw : but, blafted with excefs of light, Clos’d his eyes in endlefs night. Behold, where Dryden’s lefs prefumptuous car, Wide o’er the fields of glory bear Two courfers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder cloth’d, and long-refounding pace. HI. 3. Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! Bright-ey’d fancy, hov’ring o’er, Scatters from her piftur’d urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. But ah ! ’tis heard no more— Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring fpirit Wakes thee now ? tho’ he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban eagle bear, Sailing with fupreme dominion Through the azure deep of air : Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Mufe’s ray, With orient hues, unborrow’d of the fun : Yet (hall he mount, and keep his diftant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far—but far above the great. Sect. III. Of the Elegy. The Elegy is a mournful and plaintive, but yet fweet I33 and engaging, kind of poem. It was firft invented tollie eleSy' bewail i Part IL POE 134 How to be made. bewail the death of a friend j and afterwards ufed to ex- prefs the complaints of lovers, or any other melancholy fubjecf. In procefs of time, not only matters of grief, but joy, wilhes, prayers, expoftulations, reproaches, ad¬ monitions, and almoft every other fubjeft, were admit¬ ted into elegy •, however, funeral lamentations and af¬ fairs of love feem moll agreeable to its charafter, which is gentlenefs and tenuity. The plaintive elegy, in mournful flate, D’lhevell’d weeps the flern decrees of fate : Now paints the lover’s torments and delights y Now the nymph flatters, threatens, or invites. But he, who would thefe paflions well exprefs, Mull more of love than poetry poffefs. I hate thofe'lifelefs writers whofe forc’d fire In a cold ftyle deferibes a hot delire ; Who figh by rule, and, raging in cold blood. Their fluggilh mufe fpur to an am’rous mood. Th eir ecftafies infipidly they feign y And always pine, and fondly hug their chain ; Adore their prifon, and their fuff’rings blefs ) Make fenfe and reafon quarrel as they pleafe. ’Twas not of old in this affedfled tone, That fmooth Tibullus made his am’rous moan ; Or tender Ovid, in melodious {trains, Of love’s dear art the pleafing rules explains. You, who in elegy would juftly write, Confult your heart y let that alone endite. \_From the French of Defpreux.] SoAMES. The plan of an elegy, as indeed of all other poems, ought to be made before a line is written y or elfe the author will ramble in the dark, and his verfes have no dependence on each other. No epigrammatic points or conceits, none of thofe fine things which mod people are fo fond of in every fort of poem, can be allowed in this, but tnuft give place to nobler beauties, thofe of nature and the pttfjions. Elegy rejects whatever is facetious, fatirical, or majeftic, and is content to be plain, decent, and unaffected y yet in this humble ftate is Are fweet and engaging, elegant and attractive. This poem is adorn¬ ed wuth frequent commiferations, complaints, exclama¬ tions, addreffes to things or perfons, fliort and proper ui- greffions, allujions, comparifons, profopopceias or feigned perfons, and fometimes with fliort deferiptions. The diCtion ought to be free from any harfhnefs; neat, eafif, perfpicuous, exprejjive o f the manners, tender, and pathe¬ tic ; and the numbers ftiould be fmooth and flowing, and captivate the ear with their uniform fweetnefs and deli¬ cacy. Of elegies on the fubjeCt of death, that by Mr Gray, written in a country churchyard, is one of the belt that has appeared in our language, and may be juftly efteem- ed a mafterpiece. But bring fo generally known, it would be fuperfluous to infert it here. On the fubjeCt of love, we (hall give an example from the elegies of Mr Hammond. Let others boaft their heaps of Alining gold, And view their fields with waving plenty crown’d, Whom neighb’ring foes in conflant terror hold, And trumpets break their (lumbers, never found : While, calmly poor, I trifle life away, Enjoy fweet leifure by my cheerful fire. No wanton hope my quiet ftiall betray, But cheaply blefs’d I’ll fcorn each vain defire. Vol. XVII. Part I. TRY. 17 With timely care I’ll fow my little field, Elegy. And plant my orchard with its mafter’s hand y —— Nor blufti to fpread the hay, the hook to wield, Or range my {heaves along the funny land. If late at dulk, while carelelsly I roam, I meet a {{rolling kid or bleating lamb, Under my arm I’ll bring the wand’rer home, And not a little chide its thoughtlefs dam* What joy to hear the ternpeft howl in vain, And clafp a fearful miltrefs to my breaft ? Or lull’d to {lumber by the beating rain, Secure and happy fink at laft to reft. Or if the fun in flaming Leo rifle, By ftrady rivers indolently ftray, And, with my Delia walking fide by fide, Hear how they murmur, as they glide away.' What joy to wind along the cool retreat, To flop and gaze on Delia as I go ! To mingle fweet difeourfe with kiffes fweet, And teach my lovely fcholar all I know ! Thus pleas’d at heart, and not with fancy’s dream. In filent happinefs I reft unknown y Content with what I am, not what I feem, I live for Delia and myfelf'alone. Ah foolifh man ! who, thus of her poffefs’d, Could float and wander with ambition’s wind, And, if his outward trappings fpoke him bleft, Not heed the fjeknefs of his confcious mind. With her I fcorn the idle breath of praife, Nor truft to happinefs that’s not our own 5 The fmile of fortune might fufpicion raife, But here I know that I am lov’d alone. Stanhope, in wifdom as in wit divine, May rife and plead Britannia’s glorious caufe, With fteady rein his eager wit confine, While manly fenfe the deep attention draws. Let Stanhope fpeak his lift’ning country’s wrong. My humble voice (hall pleafe one partial maid y For her alone I pen my tender fong, Securely fitting in his friendly {hade. Stanhope {hall come, and grace his rural friend ; Delia (hall wonder at her noble gueft, With bluftung awre the riper fruit commend, And for her hufband’s patron cull the beft. Her’s be the care of all my little train, While I with tender indolence am bleft, The favourite fubjeft of her gentle reign, By love alone diftingui(h’d from the reft. For her I’ll yoke my oxen to the plough, In gloomy forefts tend my lonely flock, For her a goatherd climb the mountain’s browq And fleep extended on the naked rock. Ah ! what avails to prefs the (lately bed, And far from her ’midft taftelefs grandeur weep, By marble-fountains lay the penfive head. And, while they murmur, drive in vain to fleep ! Delia alone can pleafe and never tire, Exceed the paint of thought in true delight j With her, enjoyment wakens new defire, And equal rapture glows thro’ ev’vy night, Beauty and worth in her alike contend To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind ; In her, my wife, my miflrefs, and my friend, I tafte the joys of fenfe and reafon join’d. On POETRY. Part II. Paftoral. T35 The pafto- ral. *3* Wliy it ge¬ nerally pleafes. 137 Jts charac¬ ters and On her I’ll gaze when others loves are o’er, And dying prefs her with my clay-cold hand — Thou weep’ll already, as I were no more, Nor can that gentle bread the thought withftand. Oh ! when I die, my lateft moments 1'parc, Nor let thy grief with fliarper torments kill : Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair j Tho’ I am dead, my foul fliall love thee dill. Oh quit the room, oh quit the deathful bed, Or thou wilt die, fo tender is thy heart ! Oh leave me, Delia ! ere thou fee me dead, Tkefe weeping friends tvill do thy mournful part. Let them, extended on the decent bier, Convey the covfe in melancholy date, Thro’ all the village fpread the tender tear, While pitying maids our wond’rous love relate. Sect. IV. Of the Pafora/. This poem takes its name from the Latin word pajlor, a “ fhepherd the fubject of it being fomething in the padoral or rural life ; and the perfons, interlocutors, in¬ troduced in it, either fliepherds or other ruflics. . Thefe poems are frequently called eclogues, which fig- nifies “ fele£t or choice pieces }” though lome account for this name in a different manner. They are alfo call¬ ed bucolics, from BaxoAej, “ a herdfman,” This kind of poem, when happily executed, gives great delight •, nor is it a wonder, fince innocence and limplicity generally pleafe : to which let us add, that the fcenes of padorals are ufually laid in the country, where both poet and painter have abundant matter for the ex- ercife of genius, fuch as enchanting profpefts, purling dreams, fliady groves, enamelled meads, flowery lawns, rural amufements, the bleating of flocks, and the mufic of birds j which is of all melody the mod fweet and pleating, and calls to our mind the wifdom and tafle of Alexander, who, on being importuned to hear a man that imitated the notes of the nightingale, and was thought a great curiofity, replied, that he had had the happinefs of hearing the nightingale herfelf The chara&er of the pafloral confids in fimplicity, brevity, and delicacy ; the two firfl render fn eclogue natural, and the lad delightful. With refpea to na¬ ture, indeed, we are to confider, that as a pafloral is an image of the ancient times of innocence and undefign- ing plainnefs, we are not to defcribe fhepherds as they really are at this day, but as they may be conceived then to have been, when the bed of men, and even princes, followed the employment. For this reafon, an air of piety fliould run through the whole poem j which is vifible in the writings of antiquity. To make it natural with refpeft to the prefent age, fome knowledge in rural affairs fhould be difcovered, and that in fuch a manner as if it was done by chance rather than by defign ; led by too much pains to feem natural, that fimplicity be deflroyed from whence arifes the delight ; for what is fo engaging in this kind of poefy proceeds not fo much from the idea of a coun¬ try life itfelf, as in expofing only the bed part of a fhep- herd’s life, and concealing the misfortunes and miferies which fometimes attend it. Befides, the fubjeft mud con¬ tain fome particular beauty in itfelf, and each eclogue prefent a fcene or profpedt to our view enriched with variety : which variety is in a great meafure obtained Paftoral. by frequent comparifons drawn from the mod agreeable l__" * f objects of the country •, by interrogations to things in¬ animate } by fhort and beautiful digreflions j and by elegant turns on the words, which render the numbers more fweet and pleafing. To this let us add, that the conne£tions mult be negligent, the narrations and de- fcriplions fliort, and the periods concife. Kiddles, parables, proverbs, antique phrafes, and fu- perftitious fables, are fit materials to be intermixed with this kind of poem. They are here, when properly ap¬ plied, very ornamental 5 and the more fo, as they give our modern compofitions the air of the ancient manner of writing. 13& The flyle of the pafloral ought to be humble, yetftyle, pure } neat, but not florid j eafy, and yet lively : and the numbers fliould be fmooth and flowing. This poem in general fliould be fliort, and ought never much to exceed 100 lines *, for we are to confi- der that the ancients made thefe fort of compofitions their amufement, and not their bufinefs : but however fliort they are, every eclogue mud contain a plot or fable, which mud be Ample and one 5 but yet fo ma¬ naged as to admit of fliort digreflions. Virgil has al¬ ways obferved this. We fliall give the plot or ar¬ gument of his firfl padoral as an example. Melibceus, an unfortunate fhepherd, is introduced with Tityrus, one in more fortunate circumjlances ; the former addreffes the complaint of his fujferings and bamfhment to the latter, who enjoys his fiocks and folds in the midjl of the public calamity, and therefore exprejfes his gratitude to the be- nefaBor from whom this favour flowed: but Meliboeus accufes fortune, civil wars, and bids adieu to las native country. This is therefore a dialogue. But we are to obferve, that the poet is not always obliged to make his eclogue allegorical, and to have real perfons reprefented by the fictitious characters intro¬ duced 5 but is in this refpeCt entirely at his own li¬ berty. Nor does the nature of the poem require it to be al¬ ways carried on by way of dialogue 5 for a ftiepherd may with propriety ling the praifes of his love, complain of her inconflancy, lament her abfence, her death, &c. and addrefs himfelf to groves, hills, rivers, and fuch like rural objeCts, even when alone. We fliall now give an example from each of thofe au¬ thors who have eminently diflinguiftied themfelves by this manner of wuriting, and introduce them in the order of time in which they were written. . _ i39 Theocritus, who was the father or inventor of this Examples kind of poetry, has been defervedly efieemed by the of the pa- bed critics; and by fome, whofe judgment we.cannot^heocrhS difpute, preferred to all other pafloral writers, with^per¬ haps the Angle exception of the tender and delicate . Gefner. We fliall infert his third idyllium, not becaufe it is the bed, but becaufe it is within our compafs. To Amaryllis, lovely nymph, I fpeed, Meanwhile my goats upon the mountains feed. O Tityrus, tend them with afliduous eare, Lead them to crydal fprings and pafiures fair, And of the ridgling’s butting horns beware. Sweet Amaryllis, have you then forgot Our fecret pleafures in the confcious grott, Part II. POE Paftoral. Where in my folding arms you lay reclin’d Bleft was the (hepherd, for the nymph was kind. I whom you call’d your Dear, your Love, fo late, Say, am I now the object of your hate ? Say, is my form difpleafing to your fight ? This cruel love will furely kill me quite. Lo ! ten large apples, tempting to the view, Pluck’d from your favourite tree, where late they grew Accept this boon, ’tis all my prefent (lore } To-morrow will produce as many more. Meanwhile thefe heart-confuming pains remove, And give me gentle pity for my love. Oh ! was I made by fome transforming power A bee to buzz, in your fequeiler’d bow’r ! To pierce your ivy (hade with murmuring found, And the light leaves that compafs you around. I know thee, Love, and to my forrow find, A god thou art, but of the favage kind $ A lionefs fure fuckled the fell child, And with his brothers nurd him in the wild j On me his fcorching flames inceflant prey, Glow in my bones, and melt my foul away. Ah, nymph, whofe eyes deftrudlive glances dart, Fair is your face, but flinty is your heart: With kifles kind this rage of love appeafe ; For me, fond Twain ! ev’n empty kifles pleafe. Your fcorn diftradts me, and will make me tear The flow’ry crown I wove for you to wear, Where rofes mingle with the ivy-wreath, And fragrant herbs ambrofial odours breathe. Ah me ! what pangs I .feel *, and yet the fair Nor fees my forrows nor will hear my pray’r. I’ll doff my garments, fince I needs mull die, And'from yon rock that points its fummit high, Where patient Alpis fnares the finny fry, I’ll leap, and, though perchance I rife again, You’ll laugh to fee me plunging in the main. By a prophetic poppy-leaf I found Your chang’d affedlion, for it gave no found, Though in my hand ftruck hollow as it lay, But quickly wither’d like your love away. An old witch brought fad tidings to my ears, She who tells fortunes with the fieve and ftieers ; For leafing barley in my fields of late, She told me, I fhould love, and you fhould hate ! For you my care a milk-white goat fupply’d. Two wanton kids run frifking at her fide ; Which oft the nut-brown maid, Erithacis, Has begg’d and paid before-hand with a kifsj And fince you thus my ardent pafiion flight, Her’s they fhall be before to-morrow night. My right eye itches ; may it lucky prove, Perhaps I foon fhall fee the nymph I love j Beneath yon pine I’ll fing diftinft and clear, Perhaps the fair my tender notes fhall hear j Perhaps may pity my melodious moan $ She is not metamorphos’d into ftone. Hippomenes, provok’d by noble ftrife, To win a miftrefs, or to lofe his life, Thre w golden fruit in Atalanta’s way : The bright temptation caus’d the nymph to flay j She look’d, (he languiih’d, all her foul took fire, She plung’d into the gulf of deep defire. To Pyle from Othrys fage Melampus came. He drove the lowing herd, yet won the dame ; 1 T R Y. Fair Pero bleft his brother Bias’ arms, And in a virtuous race diffus’d unfading charms. Adonis fed his cattle on the plain, And fea-born Venus lov’d the rural iwain *, She mourn’d him wounded in the fatal chace, Nor dead difmifs’d him fyom her warm embrace. Though young Endymion was by Cynthia bleft, I envy nothing but his lading reft. Jafion flumb’ring on the Cretan plain Ceres once faw, and bleft the happy fwain With pleafures too divine for ears profane. My head grows giddy, love affe&s me fore $ Yet you regard not •, fo I’ll fing no more Here will I put a period to my care— Adieu, falfe nymph, adieu ungrateful fair *, Stretch’d near the grotto, when I’ve breath’d my laft, My corfe will give the wolves a rich repaft, As fweet to them as honey to your tafte. Fawkes. r4® Virgil fucceeds Theocritus, from whom he has in Virgil, fome places copied, and always imitated with fuccefs. As a fpecimen of his manner, we fhall introduce his firft paftoral, which is generally allowed to be the moft per- fefl. Meliboeus and Tityrus. Me/. Beneath the lhade which beechen boughs diffufe, You, Tityrus, entertain your fylvan mufe. Round the wide world in banifhment we roam, Forc’d from our pleafing fields and native home ; While ftretch’d at eafe you fing your happy love?, And Amyrillis fills the fhady groves. Tit. Thefe bleflings, friend, a deity beftow’d ■, For never can I deem him lefs than god. The tender firftling of my woolly breed Shall on his holy altar often bleed. He gave me kine to graze the flow’ry plain, And fo my pipe renew’d the rural ftrain. Mel. I envy not your fortune j but admire, That while the raging fword and wafteful fire Peftroy the wretched neighbourhood around, No hoftile arms approach your happy ground. Far diff’rent is my fate •, my feeble goats With pains I drive from their forfaken cotes : And this you fee I fcarcely drag along, Who yeaning on the rocks has left her young, The hope and promife of my falling fold. My lofs by dire portents the gods foretold j For, had I not been blind, I might have feen Yon riven oak, the faireft on the green, And the hoarfe raven on the blafted bough By croaking from the left prefag’d the coming blow. But tell me, Tityrus, what heav’nly pow’r Preferv’d your fortunes in that fatal hour ? Tit. Fool that I was, I thought imperial Rome Like Mantua, where on market-days we come, And thither drive our tender lambs from home. So kids and whelps the fires and dams exprefs $ And fo the great I meafur’d by the lefs: But country-towns, compar’d with her, appear Like fhrubs when lofty cyprefles are near. Mel. What great occafion call’d you hence to Rome ? Tit. Freedom, which came at length, tho’ flow to come: C 2 } Nor 20 POE Paftoral. Nor did my fearch of liberty begin V'_". Till my black hairs were chang’d upon my chinj Nor Amaryllis would vouchfafe a look, Till Galatea’s meaner bonds I broke. Till then a "helplefs, hopelc’fs, homely Twain, I h-eght ftot freedom, nor afpir’d to gain.: , Tho’ many a vidlim from my folds was bought, And many a cheefe to country markets brought, Yet all the little that I got I fpent, And llill return’d as empty as I went. Me/. We Hood amaz’d to fee your mill refs mourn, Unknowing that (he pin’d for your return •, We wonder’d why fhe kept her fruit fo long, For whom fo late th’ ungather’d apples hung: But now the wonder ceafes, fince I fee She kepi them only, Tityrus, for thee: For thee the bubb’ling fprings appear’d to mourn, And whifp’ring pines made vows for thy return. Tit. What Ihould I do? while here I was enchain’d, i No glimpfe of godlike liberty remain’d j Nor could I hope in any place but there To find a god fo prefent to my pray’r. There firft the youth of heav’nly birth I view’d, For whom our monthly victims are renew’d. He heard my vows, and gracioufly decreed My grounds to be reftor’d my former flocks to feed Me/. O fortunate old man! whofe farm remains For you fufficient, and requites your pains, Though rushes overfpread the neighboring plains, Tho’ here the marfhy grounds approach your fields, And there the foil a ftony harveft yields. Your teeming ewes {hall no ftrange meadows try, Nor fear a rot from tainted company. Behold yon bord’ring fence of fallow trees Is fraught.with flow’rs, thaflow’rs are fraught with bees: The bufy bees, with a foft murm’ring ftrain, Invite to gentle fieep the lab’ring Twain: While from the neighb’ring rock with rural fongs The pruner’s voice the pleafing dream prolongs; Stock doves and turtles tell their am’rous pain, And, from the lofty elms, of love complain. Tit. Th’ inhabitants of feas and Ikies (hall change, And fifh on fhore and flags in air fliall range, The banifh’d Parthian dwell on Arar’s brink, And the blue German fliall the Tigris drink; Ere I, forfaking gratitude and truth, Forget the figure of that godlike youth. Ale/. But we muft beg our bread in climes unknown, Beneath the feorching or the freezing zone; And fome to far Oaxis {hall be fold, Or try the Libyan heat or Scythian cold; The reft among the Britons be confin’d, A race of men from all the world disjoin’d. O! muft the wretched exiles ever mourn! Nor after length of rolling years return ? Are we condemn’d by Fate’s unjuft decree, No more our houfes and our homes to fee ? Or {hall we mount again the rural throne, And rule the country, kingdoms once our own? Did we for thefe barbarians plant and fow, On thefe, on thefe, our happy fields beftow ? Good heaven, what dire effe&s from civil difeordsflow Now let me graft my pears, and prune the vine: The fruit is theirs, the labour only mine. :} T 11 ' Y. Farewel my paftnres, my paternal flock! My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock! No more, my goats, fliall I behold you climb The fteepy cliffs, or crop the flow’ry thyme; No more extended in the grot below, , Shall fee you browzing on the mountain’s brow The prickly ftirubs, and after on the bare Lean down the deep abyfs and hang in air ! No more my flieep ftiall fip the morning dew ; No more my fong ftiall pleafe the rural crew: Adieu, my tuneful pipe! and all the world, adieu! Tit. This night, at leaft, with me forget your care ; Chefnuts and curds and cream fliall be your fare: The carpet-ground fliall be with leaves o’erfpread, And boughs fhall weave a cov’ring for your head : For fee yon funny hill the {hade extends. And curling fmoke from cottages afeends. Dryden Part IT. Paftoral. 1 Spenfer was the firft of our countrymen who acquired any confiderable reputation by this method of writing. We fhall infert his fixth eclogue, or that for June, which is allegorical, as will be leen by the Argument. “ Hobbinol, from a defeription of the pleafures of the place, excites Colin to the enjoyment of them. Colin declares himfelf incapable of delight by reafon of his ill fuccefs in love, and his lofs of Rofa- lind, who had treacheroufly forfaken him for Menalcas another ftiepherd. By Tityrus (mentioned before in Spenfer’s feeond eclogue, and again in the twelfth) is plainly meant Chaucer, whom the author fometimes profeffed to imitate. In the perfon of Colin is repre- fented the author himfelf; and Hobbinol’s inviting him to leave the hill country, feems to allude to his leaving the north, where, as is mentioned in his life, he had for fome time refided.” Hob. Lo! Colin, here the place, whofe pleafant fight From other {hades hath wean’d my w'and’ring mind: Tell me, wThat wants me here, to work delight? The fimple air, the gentle warbling wind, So calm, fo cool, as nowhere elfe I find: The graffy ground with dainty dailies dight, The bramble-bufh, where birds of every kind To th’ water’s fall their tunes attemper right. Co/. O! happy Hobbinol, I blefs thy ftate, That paradife haft found which Adam loft. Here wander may thy flock early or late, Withouten dread of wolves to been ytoft ; Tby lovely lays here mayft thou freely boaft: But I, unhappy man! whom cruel fate, And angry gods, purfue from coaft to coaft. Can nowhere find to {hroud my lucklefs pate. Hob. Then if by me thou lift advifed be, Forfake the foil that fo doth thee bewitch: Leave me thofe hills, where harbroughnis to fee, Nor holly bulb, nor brere, nor winding ditch; And to the dales refort, where fhepherds rich, And fruitful flocks been everywhere to fee: Here no night-ravens lodge, more black than pitch, Nor elvifh ghofts, nor ghaftly owls do flee. But friendly fairies met with many graces, And light-foot nymphs can chace the ling’ring night, With heydegures, and trimly trodden traces; Whilft fillers nine, which dwell on Parnafi’ height, Utv 4 Part II. P O E Part oral. Do make them^mtfic, for their more delight 5 And Pan hinsfelf to kifs their eryftal /aces, Will pipe and dance, when Phoebe ihineth bright : Such peerlefs pleafures have we in thefe places. Co/. And I whilft youth, and couri'e of cardefs years, Did let me walk withouten links of love, In fuch delights did joy among!! my peers : But riper age fuch pleaiures doth reprove, My fancy eke from former follies move To llrayed fteps : for time in paffing wears (As garments doen, which waxen old above) And draweth new delights with hoary hairs. Though couth I fing of love, and tune my pipe Unto my plaintiv'e pleas in verfes made : Though would I feek for queen-apples unripe To give my Rofalind, and in fomraer ihade Dight gawdy girlonds was my common trade, To crown her golden locks : but years more ripe, And lofo of her, whofe love as life I wayde, Thofe weary wanton toys away did wipe. Hob. Colin, to hear thy rhymes and roundelays. Which thou wert wont on wafteful hills to fing, I more delight, than lark in fommer days : Whofe echo made the neighbour groves to ring, And taught the birds, which in the lower fpring Did (hroud in lhady leaves from junny rays. Frame to thy fong their cheerful cheriping, Or hold their peace, for fhame of thy fweet lays. I faw Calliope with mufes moe, Soon as thy oaten pipe began to found, Their ivory lutes and tamburins forego, And from the fountain, where they fate around, Ren after haflily thy filver found. But when they came, where thou thy {kill did!! !how. They drew aback, as half with fhame confound, Shepherd to fee, them in their art outgo. Col. Of mufes, Hobbinol, I con no Ikill. For they been daughters of the highefi Jove, And holden fcopn of homely fhepherds quill: For fith I heard that Pan with Phoebus drove Which him to much rebuke and danger drove, I never lilt prefume to Parnafs’ hill, But piping low, in fiiade of lowly gfove, I play to pleafe myfelf, albeit ill. Nought weigh I, who. my fong doth praife or blame, Ne drive to win renown, or pals the red : With diepherds fits not follow flying fame, But feed his flocks in fields, where falls him bed, I wot my rimes been rough, and rudely dred ; • The fitter they, my carefpl cafe to frame : Enough is me to paint out my unreft, And pour my piteous plaints out in the fame. The God of fhepherds, Tityrus, is dead, Who taught me homely, as I can, to make : He, whilfl he lived, was the fov’reign head Of diepherds all, that been with love ytake. Well couth he wail his woes, and lightly flake The dames which love within his heart had bred, And tell us merry tales to keep us wake, The wliile our dieep about us fafely fed. Now dead he is, and lieth wrapt in lead, (O why fhould deal’n on him fuch outrage fhow !) And all his paffing fkill with him is fled, •Tbe lame whereof doth daily greater grow. B.ut if on me fome little drops would dow T II Y. 21 Of that the fpring was in his learned lied, Paftorai. I feon would learn thefe woods to wail my woe, And teacli the trees their trickling tears to fhed. Then would my plaints, caus’d of difcourtefee, As meffengers of this my painful flight, Fly to my love, wherever that die be, And pierce her heart with point of worthy wight As fhe deferves, that wrought fo deadly fpight. And thou, Alenalcas, that by treachery Didft underfong my lafs to wax fe light, Should’d well be known for fuch thy villany. But lince I am not, as I with I were, Ye gentle diepherds, which your flocks do feed, Whether on hills or dales, or other where, Bear witnefs all of this fe wicked deed : And tell the lafs, whofe flower is vvoxe a weed, And faultlefsFaith is turn’d to faithlefs feerc, That die the trued iliepherd’s heart made bleed, That lives on earth, and loved her mod dear. Hob. O ! careful Colin, I lament thy cafe, Thy tears would make the harded flint to flow ! Ah ! faithlefs Rofalind, and void of grace. That art the root of all this rueful woe ! But now is time, I guefs, homeward to go 5 Then rife, ye bleffed flocks, and home apace Led night with dealing fleps do you forello, And wet your tender lambs that by you trace. ^ By the following eclogue the reader will perceive that Philip.;. Mr Philips has, in imitation of Spenfer, preferved in his pad orals many antiquated words, which, though they aredifearded from polite converfation, may naturally be feppofed dill to have place among the diepherds and other rudics in the country. We have made choice of his fecund eclogue, becaufe it is brought home to hi*, own bufinefs, and contains a complaint againd thofe who had fpoken ill of him and his writings. Thenot, Colinet. 1/i. Is it not Colinet I lonefome fee Leaning with folded arms againd the tree ?■ Or is it age of late bedims my fight ? ’Tis Colinet, indeed, in woful plight. I hy cloudy look, why melting into tears, Unfeemly, now the fky fe bright appears ? Why in this mournful manner art thou found, Unthankful lad, when all things fmile around * Or bear’d not lark and linnet jointly fing, 1 heir notes blithe-warbling to falute the fpring ? Co. I ho’ blithe their notes, not fe my wayward fate^'. N or lark would fing, nor linnet, in my date. Each creature, Thenot, to his talk is born ; As they to mirth and rnufie., I to mourn. Waking, at midnight, I my woes renew, My tears oft mingling with the falling dew. 1/i. Small caufe, I ween, has ludy youth to plain}; Or who may then the weight of eld fudain, When every flackening nerve begins to fail, And the load preffeth as our days prevail ? Yet though with years my body downward tend, As trees beneath their fruit in autumn bend, Spite of my fnowy head and icy veins, My mind a cheerful temper dill retains •, And why drould man, midiap what will, repine, Sour every fweet, and mix with tears his wine ? But tell me then ; it may relievo thy woe, To let a friend thine inward ailment know* . fee,. 2 POE raftoral. Co. Idly "twill wafte'thee, Thenot, the whole day, “ v ’ Should’ft thou give ear to all my grief can fay. Thine ewes will wander ; and the heedlefs lambs, In loud complaints, require their abfent dams. Th. See Lightfootj he lhall tend them clofe: and I, ’Tween whiles, acrofs the plain will glance mine eye. Co. Where to begin I know not, where to end. Does there one fmiling hour my youth attend ? Though few my days, as well my follies ftiow, Yet are thofe days all clouded o’er with wo : No happy gleam of funfliine doth appear, My low’ring fky and wint’ry months to cheer. My piteous plight in yonder naked tree, Which bears the thunder-fear too plain, I fee: Quite deftitute it ftands of {belter kind, The mark of ftorms, and fport of every wind ; The riven trunk feels not the approach of fpring; Nor birds among the leaftefs branches fing: No more, beneath thy (hade, fhall Ihepherds throng With jocund tale, or pipe, or pleafing fong. Ill-fated tree ! and more ill-fated I ! From thee, from me, alike the (hepherds fly. Th. Sure thou in haplefs hour of time tvaft born, When blightning mildews fpoil the rifing corn. Or blafting winds o’er bloflbm’d hedge-rows pafs, To kill the promis’d fruits, and feorch the grafs, Or when the moon, by wizard charm’d, foreftiows, Blood-ftain’d in foul eclipfe, impending woes. Untimely born, ill luck betides thee ftill. Co. And can there, Thenot, be a greater ill ? Th. Nor fox, nor wolf, nor rot among our ftieep: From thefe good ftiepherd’s care his flock may keep j Again ft ill luck, alas! all forecaft fails *, Nor toil by day, nor watch by night, avails. Co. Ah me, the while ! ah me, the lucklefs day . Ah lucklefs lad ! befits me more to fay. Unhappy hour ! when frefli in youthful bud, I left, Sabrina fair, thy filv’ry flood. Ah filly I! more than my ftieeP» Which on thy flow’ry banks I wont to keep. Sweet are thy banks •, oh, when (hall I once more With raviflr’d eyes review thine amell’d fliore i When, in the eryftal of thy waters, fcan Each feature faded, and my colour wan ? When fhall I fee my hut, the fmall abode Myfelf did raife and cover o’er with fod ? Small though it be, a mean and humble cell, Yet is there room for peace and me to dwell. Th. And what inticement charm’d thee far away From thy lov’d home, and led thy heart aftray ? Co. A lewd defire ftrange lands and fwains to know. Ah me ! that ever I ftiould covet wo. With wand’ring feet unbleft, and fond of fame, I foupht I know not what befides a name. Th. Or, footh to fay, didft thou not hither rome In fearch of gains more plenty than at home ? A rolling ftone is ever bare of mofs ; And, to their coft, green years old proverbs crofs. _ Co. Small need there was, in random fearch ot gain, To drive my pining flock athwart the plain To diftant Cam. Fine gain at length, I trow, To hoard up to myfelf fuch deal of wo . My iheep quite fpent through travel and ill fare, And like their keeper ragged grown and bare, TRY. Fart IT. The damp cold green fward for my Rightly bed, t faftoral. And fome flaunt willow’s trunk to reft my head. v Hard is to bear of pinching cold the pain ; And hard is want to the unpraftis'd {'wain ; But neither want, nor pinching cold, is hard, To blafting ftorms of calumny compar’d : Unkind as hail it falls; tiie pelting ftiow’r Deftroys the tender herb and budding flow’r. Th. Slander we {hepherds count the vileft wrong ; And what wounds forer than an evil tongue ? Co. Untoward lads, the wanton imps of fpite Make mock of all the ditties I endite. In vain, O Colinet, thy pipe, fo {brill, Charms every vale, and gladdens every hill: In vain thou feek’ft the coverings of the grove, In the cool ftiade to fing the pains of love : Sing what thou wilt, ill-nature will prevail j And every elf hath {kill enough to rail. But yet, though poor and artlefs be my vein, Menalcas feems to like my Ample {train : And while that he delighteth in my fong, Which to the good Menalcas doth belong, Nor night nor day {hall my rude mufic ceafe $ I afle no more, fo I Menaleas pleafe. J'h. Menalcas, lord of thefe fair fertile plains, Preferves the Iheep, and o’er the {hepherds reigns ; For him our yearly wakes and feafts we hold, And choofe the faireft firftlings from the fold j He, good to all who good deferves, fhall give Thy flock to feed, and thee at eafe to live, Shall curb the malice of unbridled tongues, And bounteoufly reward thy rural fongs. Co. Firft then fhall lightfome birds forget to fly, The briny ocean turn to paftures dry, And every rapid river ceafe to flow, Ere I unmindful of Menalcas grow. Th. This night thy care with me forget, and fold Thy flock with mine, to ward th’ injurious cold. New milk, and clouted cream, mild cheefe and curd, With fome remaining fruit of laft year’s hoard, Shall be our ev’ning fare *, and, for the night. Sweet herbs and mofs, which gentle fleep invite: And now behold the fun’s departing ray, O’er yonder hill, the fign of ebbing day : With fongs the jovial hinds return from plow ; And unyok’d heifers, loitering homeward, low. Mr Pope’s Paftorals next appeared, but in a different Pope7' drefs from thofe of Spenfer and Philips; for he has dif- carded all antiquated words, drawn his fwains more mo¬ dern and polite, and made his numbers exquifitely har¬ monious : his eclogues therefore may be called better poems, but not better paftorals. We {hall infert the ec- loaue he has inferibed to Mr Wycherly, the beginning of which is in imitation of Virgil’s firft paftoral. Beneath the {hade a fpreading beech difplays, Hylas and A^gon fung their rural lays: This mourn’d a faithlefs, that an abfent love, And Delia’s name and Doris fill’d the grove. Ye Mantuan nymphs, your facred fuccour bring *, Hylas and /Egon’s rural lays I fing. Thou, whom the ninfe with Plautus’ wit mfpire, The art of Terence, and Menander’s fire : Whofe fenfe inftru&s us, and whofe humour charms, Whofe judgment fways us, and whofe fpirit warms! Part II. POE Paftoral, Oh, feiUM in nature ! fee the hearts of fwains, u. Their artlefs paffions, and their tender pains. Now felting Phoebus flione ferenely bright, And fleecy clouds were ftreak’d with purple light j When tuneful Hylas, with melodious moan, . Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away ! To Delia’s ear the tender notes convey. As fome fad turtle his loft love deplores, And with deep murmurs fills the founding Ihores $ Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn. Alike unheard, unpity’d, and forlorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along l For her the feather’d quires neglett their fong } For her, the limes their pleafing (hades deny For her, the lilies hang their head and die. Ye flow’rs, that droop forfaken by the fpring j Ye birds, that left by fummer ceafe to fing *, Ye trees, that fade when autumn’s heats remove $ Say, is not abfence death to thofe who love ? Go, gentle gales, and bear thy fighs away ! Curs’d be the fields that caufe my Delia’s flay : Fade ev’ry bloflom, wither ev’ry tree, Die ev’ry flow’r and perilh all but (he. What have I faid ? where’er my Delia flies, Let fpring attend, and fudden flow’rs arife j Let opening rofes knotted oaks adorn. And liquid amber drop from ev’ry thorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along ! The birds lhall ceafe to tune their ev’ning fong. The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And ftreams to murmur, ere I ceafe to love. Not bubbling fountains to the thirfty fwain, Not balmy deep to lab’rers faint with pain, Not (how’rs to larks, or funftiine to the bee, Are half fo charming as thy fight to me. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away ! Come, Delia, come ! ah, why this long delay ? Through rocks and caves the name of Delia founds j Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. Ye pow’rs, what pleafing frenzy foothes my mind ! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind ? She comes, my Delia comes !—now ceafe, my lay j And ceafe, ye gales, to bear my fighs away ! Next JEgon fung, while Windfor groves admir’d j Rehearfe, ye mufes, what yourfelves infpir’d. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful drain ! Of perjur’d Doris, dying, I complain : Here where the mountains, lefs’ning as they rife, Lofe the low vales, and fteal into the (kies j While lab’ring oxen, fpent wfith toil and heat, In their loofe traces from the field retreat; While curling fmokes from village-tops are feen, And the. fleet (hades glide o’er the dulky green. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay ! Beneath yon poplar oft we pafs’d the day ! Oft on the rind I carv’d her am’rous vows, While (lie with garlands hung the bending boughs: The garlands fade, the boughs are worn away ; So dies her love, and fo my hopes decav. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful drain ! Now bright Arfturus glads the teeming grain j Now golden fruits in loaded branches (hine, And grateful eluftcrs fwell with floods of wine j TRY. 23 Now bluftiing berries paint the yellow grove : Juft gods ! (hall all things yield return but love ? Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay ! The (hepherds cry, “ Thy flocks are left a prey.”— Ah ! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who loft my heart, while I preferv’d my (lieep ? Pan came, and alk’d, what magic caus’d my (mart, Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart ? What eyes but hers, alas ! have pow’r to move ? And is there magic but what dwells in love ? Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful drains ! I’ll fly from (hepherds, flocks, and flow’ry plains. From (hepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forfake mankind, and all the world—but love ! I know thee, Love ! wild as the raging main, More fell than tygers on the Libyan plain : Thou wert from ^Etna’s burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay ! Farewel, ye wmods, adieu the light of day ! One leap from vonder cliff (hall end my pains. ' No more, ye hills, no more refound my (trains ! Thus fung the (hepherds till th’ approach of night, The (kies yet blulhing with departing light, When falling dews with fpangles deck the glade, And the low fun had lengthen’d ev’ry (hade. r • • X44 To thefe paftorals, which are written agreeably to the Gay. tafte of antiquity, and the rules above prefcribed, we lhall beg leave to fubjoin another that may be called Zw/e/yz/e pajloral, wherein the ingeniousjauthor, Mr Gay, has ventured to deviate from the beaten road, and defcribed the (hepherds and ploughmen of our own time and coun¬ try, inftead of thofe of the golden age, to which the modern critics confine the paftoral. His fix paftorals, which he calls the Shepherd's Week, are a beautiful and lively reprefentation of the manners, cuftoms, and notions of our ruftics. We (hall infert the firft of them, intitled The Squabble, wherein two clowns try to outdo each other in tinging the praifes of their fweethearts, leaving it to a third to determine the controverfy. The perfons named are Lobbin Clout, Cuddy, and CJoddipole. Lob. Thy younglings, Cuddy, are but juft awake j No throttle (brill the bramble-bufti forfake ; No chirping lark the welkin (been * invokes j * Shining No damfel yet the fwelling udder ftrokes j or bright O’er yonder hill does fcant f the dawn appear j Then why does Cuddy leave his cott fo rear J ? | Early6* Cud. Ah Lobbin Clout! I ween § my plight is gueft 5 ^ Conceive. For he that loves, a Jlranger is to rcjl. If fwains belye not, thou haft prov’d the fmart, And Blouzalinda’s miftrefs of thy heart. This riling tear betokeneth well thy mind j Thofe arms are folded for thy Blouzalind. And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree ; Thee Blouzalinda fmites, Buxorna me. Lob. Ah Blouzalind! I love thee more by half, Than deer their fawns, or coavs the new-fall’n calf. Woe worth the tongue, may blifters fore it gall, That names Buxoma Blouosalind Avithal. Cud. Hold, witlefs Lobbin Clout, I thee advife, Left blifters (ore on thy orvn tongue arife. Lo yonder Cloddipole, the blithfeme fwain, The wifeft lout of all the neighb’ring plain ! Panorai. 5 From 24 P Pad ora1. From Cleddipole we learnt to read the ikies, ^ To know when hail will fall, or winds arife. * Formerly. fje taught us erd * l^e heifer’s tail to view, When ituck aloft, that fhow’rs would ftraight enfue : He firft that ufeful fecret did explain, That pricking corns foretold the gathering rain. When fwallows fleet foar high and fport in air, He told us that the welkin would be clear. Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearfe, And praife his fweetheart in alternate verfe. I’ll wager this fame oaken itaif with thee, That Cloddipole fhall give the prize to me. Lob. See this tobacco-pouch, that’s lin’d with hair, Made of the fkin of fleekefl: fallow-deer : This pouch, that’s tied with tape of reddeft hue, I’ll wager, that the prize fhall be my due. Cud. Begin thy carrols, then, thou vaunting flouch : * Be thine the oaken ftaff, or mine the pouch. I.ob. My Blouzalinda is the blitheft lafs, Than primrofe fweeter, or the clover-grafs. Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daify that befide her grows j Fair is the gilly-flow’r of gardens fweet $ Fair is the marygold, for pottage meet : But Blouzalind’s than gilly-flower more fair, Than daify, marygold, or king-cup rare. Cud. My brown Buxoma is the feateft maid That e’er at wake delightfome gambol play’d ; Clean as young lambkins, or the goofe’s down, And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown. The witlefs lamb may fport upon the plain, The frifking kid delight the gaping fwain ; The wanton calf may Ikip with many a bound, I Nimbleft. And my cur Tray play defteft f feats around : But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, Dance like Buxoma on the firfl of May. Lob. Sweet is my toil when Blouzalind is near 5 Of her bereft, ’tis winter all the year. With her no fultry fummer’s heat I know *, In winter, when (he’s nigh, with love I glow. Come, Blouzalinda, eafe thy fwain’s defire, My fummer’s fhadow, and my winter’s fire ! Cud. As with Buxoma once I work’d at hay, E’en noon-tide labour feem’d an holiday j And holidays, if haply flie were gone, Like worky-days I wifh’d would foon be done. jVeryfuon. Eftfoons J, O fweetheart kind, my love repay. And all the year fhall then be holiday. Lob. As Blouzalinda, in a gamefome mood, Behind a hay-cock loudly laughing flood, I (lily ran and fnatch’d a hafty kifs •, She wip’d her lips, nor took it much amifs. Believe me, Cuddy, while I’m bold to fay, Her breath was fweeter than the ripen’d hay» Cud. As my Buxoma, in a morning fair, With gentle finger flroak’d her milky care, § Wag- I quaintly 5 ftole a kifs •, at firft, ’tis true, glibly. She frown’d, yet after granted one or two. Bobbin, I fwear, believe who will my vows, Her breath by far excell’d the breathing cows. Lob. Leek to the Welfh, to Dutchmen butter’s dear, Of Irifh fwains potatoes are the cheer \ Oats for their feafts the Scottifh ftiepherds grind, Sweet turnips are the food of Blouzalind ; O E T R Y< Part IL While ftie loves turnips, butter I’ll defpife, Nor leeks, nor oatmeal, nor potatoes prize. Cud. In good roaft beef my landlord flicks his knife, The capon fat delights his dainty wife } Pudding our parfon eats, the fquire loves hare ; But. white-pot thick is my Buxoma’s fare. While flie loves white-pot, capon ne’er fhall be. Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for me. Lob. As once I play’d at blind man’s buff, it hapt About my eyes the towel thick was wrapt : I mifs’d the fwains, and fuz’d on Blouzalind 5 True fpeaks that ancient proverb, Love is blind. Cud. As at hot-cockles once I laid me down, And felt the weighty hand of many a clown $ Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I Quick role, and'read foft mifchief in her eye. Lob. On two near elms the flacken’d cord I hung j Now high, now low, my Blouzalinda fwung •, With the rude wind her rumpled garment rofe, And fliow’d her taper leg and fcarlet hofe. Cud. Acrofs the fallen oak the plank I laid. And myfelf pois’d againft the tott’ring maid ! High leapt the plank, and down Buxoma fell 5 I fpy’d—but faithful fweethearts never tell. Lob. This riddle, Cuddy, if thou canft, explain. This wily riddle puzzles every fwain : What floxv'r is that which bears the virgin's name, The richejl metal joined with the fame * ? Cud. Anfwer, thou carle, and judge this riddle right, I’ll frankly own thee for a cunning wight : What jlow'r is that which royal honour craves, Adjoin the virgin, and 'tis frown on graves f ? Clod. Forbear, contending louts, give o’er ftrains j An oaken ftaff each merits for his pains. But fee the fun-beams bright to labour warn, And gild the thatch of goodman Hodge’s barn. Your herds for want of water ftamd a-dry j They’re weary of your fongs—and fo am I. Paftoral. * MarieolcL f Rifemary. your We have given the rules ufually laid down for pafto-Shenftone. ral writing, and exhibited fome examples written on this plan *, but we have to obferve that this poem may take very different forms. It may appear either as a comedy or as a ballad. As a paftoral comedy, there is perhaps nothing which poffeffes equal merit with Ramfay’s Gentle Shepherd, and we know riot where to find in any language a rival to the Paforal Bp/lad of Shenftone. That the excellence of this poem is great can hardly be. queftioned, fince it compelled a critic, who was never lavifli of his praife, and who on all occafions was ready to vilify the paftoral, to exprefs himfelf in terms of high encomium. “ In the firft part (fays he) are two paffages, to which if any mind denies its fympathy, it has no acquaintance with love or nature : I priz’d every hour that went by, Beyond all that had pleas’d me before 5 But now they are part, and I figh, And I grieve that I priz’d them no more. When forc’d the fair nymph to forego, What anguifti I felt in my heart ! Yet I thought—but it might not be fo, ’Twas with pain that fire faw me depart. , She Part IT. POETRY. 2 Paftoral. She gaz’d, as I flowly withdrew, ■y—^ jyj-y j could hardly difcern j So fweetly the bade me adieu, I thought that flie bade me return. “ In the fecond (continues the fame critic) this paflage has its prettinefs, though it be not equal to the for¬ mer I have found out a gift for my fair $ I have found where the wood-pigeons breed : But let me that plunder forbear, She would fay ’twas a barbarous deed : For he ne’er could be true, fire averr’d, Who could rob a poor bird of its young j And I lov’d her the more when I heard Such tendernels fall from lier tongue. Sect. V. Of Dida&ic or Preceptive Poetry. 146 Origin and The method of writing precepts in verfe, and embel- ufe ofdi- lidring them with the graces of poetry, had its rife, we a ic poe may fupp0fe) from a due confideration of the frailties and perverfenefs of human nature j and was intended to en¬ gage the affe&ions, in order to improve the mind and amend the heart. Didaflic or preceptive poetry, has been ufually em¬ ployed either to illuftrate and explain our moral duties, our philofophical inquiries-, our bufinefs and pleafures ; or in teaching the art of criticifm or poetry itfelf. It may be adapted, however, to any other fubjeft •, and may in all cafes, where inftruflion is defigned, be em¬ ployed to good purpofe. Some fubjefts, indeed, are more proper than others, as they admit of more poe¬ tical ornaments, and give a greater latitude to genius : but whatever the fubjeft is, thofe precepts are to be laid down that are the moft ufeful ; and they fliould follow each other in a natural eafy method, and be de¬ livered in the moft agreeable engaging manner.. What the profe writer tells you ought to be done, the poet often conveys under the form of a narration, or ftiows the necedity of in a defcription 5 and by reprefenting the a6iion as done, or doing, conceals the precept that Ihould enforce it. The poet likewife, intlead of tell¬ ing the whole truth, or laying down all the rules that are requifi'te, fele&s fuch parts only as are the moft pleading, and communicates the reft indireftly, with¬ out giving, us an open view of them j yet takes care that nothing (hall efcape the reader’s notice with which he ought to be acquainted. He difclofes juft enough to lead the imagination into the parts that are conceal¬ ed ; and the mind, ever gratified with its own difco- veries, is complimented with exploring and finding them out ; which, though done with eafe, feems fo confide- vable, as not to be obtained but in confequpnce of its 147 °wn adroitnefs and fagacity. Rules to be But this is not fufficient to render didadlic poetry al- S pleafin£ ; for where precepts are laid down one af- fition. another, and the poem is of confiderable length, the mind will require fome recreation and refreftiment by the way; which is to be procured by feafonable moral reflec¬ tions, pertinent remarks, familiarlimilies, anddefcriptions naturally introduced, by allufions to ancient hiftories or fables, and by fliort arid pleafant digreftions and excur- fions into more noble fubjefts, fo aptly brought in, that they may feem to have a remote relation, and be of a Vol. XVII. Part I. piece with the poem. By thus varying the form of in- ftrudlion, the poet gives life to his precepts, and awa¬ kens and fecures our attention, without permitting us to fee by what means we are thus captivated : and his art is the more to be admired, becaufe it is fo concealed as to efcape the reader’s obfervation. The ftyle, too, muft maintain a dignity fuitable to the fubjedt, and every part be drawn in fuch lively colours, that the things defcribed may feem as if prefented to the reader’s view. Didadhe.- But all this will appear more evident from example ; . and though entire poems of this kind are not within the compafs of our defign, we (hall endeavour to feledt fuch paffages as will be fufficient to illuftrate the rules we have here laid down. We have already obferved, that, according to the ufual divifions, there are four kinds of didadlic poems, viz. thofe that refpedl our moral duties, our philofophi¬ cal fpeculations, our bufinefs and pleafures, or that give precepts for poetry and criticifm. I. On the firft fubjedl, indeed, we have fcaree any thing that deferves the name of poetry, except Mr Pope’s EJfay on Man, his Ethic Epi/t/es, Blackmore’s Creation, and part of Young’s Nig hit Thoughts ; to which therefore we refer as examples. II. Thofe preceptive poems that concern philofophi¬ cal fpeculations, though the fubjedl is fo pregnant with matter, affords fuch a field of fancy, and is fo capable of every decoration, are but few. Lucretius is the moft confiderable among the ancients who has written in this manner ; among the moderns we have little elfe but fmall detached pieces, except the poem called Anti-Lu¬ cretius, which has not yet received an Englifti drefs *, Hr Akenfide’s Pleafures of the Imagination, and Dr Darwin’s Botanic Garden; which are all worthy of our admiration. Some of the fmall pieces in this department are alfo well executed ; and there is one entitled the Vniverfe, written by Mr Baker, from which we (hall borrow an example. The author’s (cheme is in fome meafure coincident with Mr Pope’s, fo far efpecially as it tends to reftrain the pride of man, with which defign it was profefiedly written. The paflage we have feledled is that refpedling the pla¬ netary fyftem. Unwife I and though tie fs ! impotent ! and blind ! Ejanfples Can wealth, or grandeur, fatisfy the mind ? in dida&ie Of all thofe pleafures mortals moft admire, poetry. Is there one joy fincere, that will not tire ? Can love itfelf endure ? or beauty’s charms Afford that blifs we fancy in its arms '— I hen let thy foul more glorious aims purfue : Have thy Creator and his works in view. Be thefe thy ftudy : hence thy pleafures bring : And drink large draughts of wifdom from its fpring ; That fpring, whence perfeft joy, and calm repofe, And bleft content, and peace eternal, flows. Obferve how regular the planets run, In dated times, their courfes round the Sun. Different their bulk, their diitance, their career, And different much the compafs of their year : Yet all the fame eternal laws obey, While God’s unerring finger points the way. Firft Mercury, amidft full tides of light, Rolls next the fun, through his fmall circle bright. B All 'vv 26 Didaftic. POE All that dwell here mull be refin’d and pure ; Bodies like ours fuch ardour can’t endure : Our earth would blaze beneath fo fierce a ray, And all its marble mountains melt away. Fair Venus, next, fulfils her larger round, With fofter beams, and milder glory crown’d. Friend to mankind, fire glitters from afar, Now the bright ev’ning, now the morning Bar. More diftant flill, our earth comes rolling on, And forms a wider circle round the fun : With her the moon, companion ever dear ! Her courfe attending through the .finning year. See, Mars, alone, runs his appointed race, And meafures out, exaft, the deltin’d fpace : Nor nearer does he. wind, nor farther firay, But finds the point whence firft he roll’d away. More yet remote from day’s all cheering fource, Vafi: Jupiter performs his conftant courfe : Four friendly moons, with borrow’d luftre, rite, Bellow their beams divine, and light his Ikies. Fartheft and laft, fcarce warm’d by Phoebus’ ray, Through his vaft orbit Saturn wheels away. How great the change could we be wTafied there . How flow the feafons ! and how long the year ! One moon, on us, refle&s its cheerful light : There, five attendants brighten up the night. Here, the blue firmament bedeck’d with ftars ; There, over-head, a lucid arch appears. From hence, how large, how ftrong, the fun’s bright ball 1 But feen from thence, how languid and horv fmall 1 — When the keen north with all its fury blows, Congeals the Hoods, and forms the fleecy fnows, ’Tis heat intenfe to what can there be known : Warmer our poles than is its burning zone. • Who there inhabits mull have other pow’rs, Juices, and veins, and fenfe, and life, than ours. One moment’s cold, like theirs, would pierce the bone, Freeze the heart-blood, and turn us all to flone. Strange and amazing muft the diff’rence be ’Twixt this dull planet and bright Mercury : Yet reafon fays,’ nor can we doubt at all, Millions of beings dwell on either ball, With conftitutions fitted for the fpot, Where Providence, all wife, has fix’d their lot. Wondrous art thou, O God, in all thy ways ! Their eyes to thee let all thy creatures raife ; Adore thy grandeur, and thy goodnefs praife. Ye fons of men ! with fatisfa&ion know, God’s own right hand difpenfes all below : Nor good nor evil does by chance befall j He reigns fupreme, and he diretts it all.. At his command, affrighting human-kind, Comets drag on their blazing lengths behind . Nor, as we think, do they at random rove,. But, in determin’d times, through long ellipfes move. And tho’ fometimes they near approach the fun ; Sometimes beyond our fyftem’s orbit run •, Throughout their race they adt their Maker’s will, His pow’r declare, his purpofes fulfil. III. Of thofe preceptive poems that treat of the bufinefs and pleafures of mankind, Virgil’s Georgies claim our firft and principal attention. In thefe he has laid down the rules of hufbandry.in.all its branches with the utmoft exaftnefs and perfpicuity, and at the 3 TRY. Part II , fame time embellifhed them with all the beauties and Didactic, graces of poetry. Though his fubjeft was hufbandry, he has delivered his precepts, as Mr Addifon obferves, not with the fimplicity of a ploughman, but with the addrefs of a poet: the meaneft of his rules are laid down with a kind of grandeur •, atul he breaks the clods, and tqjfes about the dung, with an air of gracefulnefs. Of the different ways of conveying the fame truth to the mind, he takes that which is pleafanteft ; and this chief¬ ly diftinguifhes poetry from profe, and renders Virgil’s 5ules of hufbandrv more delightful and valuable than any other. Thefe poems, which are efteemed the moft perfect of the author’s works, are, perhaps, the beft that, can be propofed for the young ftudent’s imitation in this man¬ ner of writing ; for the whole of his Georgies is wrought up with wmnderful art, and decorated with all the flowers of poetry. IV. Of thofe poems which give precepts for the re¬ creations nnd pleafures of a country life, we have feve- ral in our own language that are juftly admired. As the moft confiderable of thofe diverfions, however, are finely treated by Mr Gay in Ins Rural Sports, we par¬ ticularly refer to that poem. We fhould here treat of thofe preceptive poems that teach the art of poetry itfelf, of which there are many that deferve particular attention •, but we have antici¬ pated our defign, and rendered any farther notice of them in a manner ufelefs, by the obfervations we have made in the courfe of this trealife. V e ought how¬ ever to remark, that Horace was the only poet among the ancients who wrote precepts for poetry in verfe at leaft his epiftle to the Pifos is the only piece of the kind that has been handed down to us } and that is to perfect, it feems almoft to have precluded the neceffity of any other. Among the moderns we have feveral that are juftly admired *, as Boileau, Pope, &c. Poets who write in the preceptive manner fhould take care to choofe fuch fubjedts as are worthy of their muft, and of confequence to all mankind •, for to beftow both parts and pains to teach people trifles that are un¬ worthy of their attention, is to the laft degree ridicu' Among poems of the ufeful and interefting kind,.Hr Annftrong’s Art of Prefcrving Health deferves particu¬ lar recommendation, as well in confideration of the fubjeft, as of the elegant and mafterly manner in which he has treated it } for he has made thofe things, which are in their own nature dry and unentertaining, perfeft- ]y agreeable and pleafing, by adhering to the rules ob- ferved by Virgil and others in the conduft of thefe poems. With regard to the ftyle or drefs of thefe p°eni3, prope- it fhould be fo rich as to hide the nakednefs of the gyle, fubjeft, and the barrennefs of the precepts fhould be loft in the luftre of the language. “It ought to a- Wartcn on bound in the moft bold and forcible metaphors, theDidaftic moft glowing and piaurefque epithets ; it ought to be ^etry. elevated and enlivened by pomp of numbers and ma- jefty of words, and by every figure that can lift a lan¬ guage above the vulgar and current expreflions.”. One may add, that in no kind of poetry (not even in the fublime ode) is beauty of expreffion fo much to be re¬ garded as in this. For the epic writer fhould be very cautious of indulging himfelf in too florid a manner of expreflion, Part II. _ POE DidadHc. exprcflion, erpeclally in the dramatic parts of his fable, j where he introduces dialogue : and the. writer of tra¬ gedy cannot fall into fo naufeous and unnatural an af¬ fectation, as to put laboured deferiptions, pompous epi¬ thets, ftudied phrafes, and high-flown metaphors, into the mouths of his characters. But as the didaCtic poet fpeaks in his own perfon, it is neceflary and pro¬ per for him to ufe a brighter colouring of flyle, and to be more Itudious of ornament. And this is agree¬ able to an admirable precept of Ariftotle, which no ■writer fhould ever forget,—“ That diCtion ought molt to be laboured in the unaCtive, that is, the deferip- tive, parts of a poem, in which the opinions, manners, and paflions of men are not reprefented } lor too gla¬ ring an expreflion obfeures the manners and the fenti- ments.” We have already obferved that any thing in nature may be the fubjeCt of this poem. Some things, how¬ ever, will appear to more advantage than others, as they give a greater latitude to genius, and admit of more poetical ornaments. Natural hiflory and philo- fophy are copious fubjeCls. Precepts in thefe might be decorated with all the flowers in poetry } and, as Dr Trapp obferves, how can poetry be better employ¬ ed, or more agreeably to its nature and dignity, than in celebrating the Works ol the great Creator, and de- feribing the nature and generation of animals, vege¬ tables, and minerals ; the revolutions of the heavenly bodies *, the motions of the earth •, the flux and reflux of the fea j the caufe of thunder, lightning, and other ^meteors ; the attraction of the magnet •, the gravitation, cohefion, and repulfion jof matter •, the impulfive mo¬ tion of light •, the flow progreflion of founds ; and other amazing phenomena of nature ? Moll of the arts and fciences are alfo proper fubjeCls for this poem ; and none are more fo than its two filler arts, painting and mufic. In the former, particularly, there is room for the moll entertaining precepts concerning the difpofal of colours ; the arrangement of lights and fliades ; the Tccret attraClives of beauty •, the various ideas which make up the one ; the diftinguilhing between the atti¬ tudes proper to either fex-, and every paflion ; the re- prefenting profpeCls of buildings, battles, or the coun¬ try ; and, laftly, concerning the nature of imitation, and the powder of painting. What a boundlefs field of invention is here ? What room for defeription, compa- rifon, and poetical fable ? How eafy the tranfition, at any time, from the draught to the original, from the ihadow to the fubllance ? and from hence, what noble excurfions may be made into hiftory, into panegyric upon the greatelt beauties.or heroes of the pall or pre- fent age ? Sect. VI. Of the Bpijlle. The cha- This fpecies of writing, if we are permitted to lay ra&er of down rules from the examples of our belt poets, admits the epiltle. 0f great latitude, and folicits ornament and decoration ; yet the poet is Hill to confider, that the true charader of the epiftle is eafe and elegance *, nothing therefore Ihould be forced or unnatural, laboured or affeCled, but every part of the compofition fliould breathe an eafy, po¬ lite, and unconltrained freedom. It is fuitable to every fubjeCt •, for as the epillle takes place of difeourfe, and is intended as a fort of diftant T R Y, converfation, all the aflairs of iiic and refearches into nature may be introduced. Thofe, however, which are fraught with compliment or condolence, that contain a defeription of places, or are full of pertinent remarks, and in a familiar and humorous way deferibe the man¬ ners, vices, and follies of mankind, are the belt *, be- caufe they are molt fuitable to the true character of epi- llolary writing, and (bufinefs fet apart) are the ufuai fubjedts upon which our letters are employed. All farther rules and directions are unneceflary; for this kind of writing is better learned by example and practice than by precept. We lhall, therelore, in con formity to our plan, felect a few epiltles for the reader’- imitation ; which, as this method of writing has of late much prevailed, may be belt taken, perhaps, from our modern poets. The following letter from Mr Addifon to Lord Ha¬ lifax, contains an elegant defeription of the curiofitie and places about Rome, together with fueh reflections on the ineltimable blelfings of liberty as nuift give plea- fure to every Briton, efpecially when he fees them thus placed in direct oppofition to the baneful influence of llavery and oppreflion, which are ever to be h en among the miferable inhabitants of thofe countries. While you, my lord, the rural fliades admire, And from Britannia’s public polls retire, Nor longer, her ungrateful fons to pleafe, For their advantage facrifice your eafe : Me into foreign realms my fate conveys, Through nations fruitful of immortal lays, Where the foft feafon and inviting clime Confpire to trouble your repofe with rhime. For w here foe’er I turn my ravifli’d eyes, Gay gilded feenes and fhining profpeCts rife, Poetic fields encompafs me around, And Itill I feem to tread on claflic ground ; For here the mule fo oft her harp has itrung, That not a mountain rears its head unfung, Renown’d in verfe each fliady thicket grows, And ev’ry ftream in heav’nly numbers flowrs. How am I pleas’d to fearch the hills and woods For riling fprings and celebrated floods j To view the Nar, tumultuous in his courfe, And trace the fmooth Clitumnus to his fource y To fee the Mincia draw its wat’ry Itore Through the long windings of a fruitful fliore, And hoary Albula’s infeCted tide O’er the warm bed of fmoking fulphur glide ! Fir’d with a thoufand raptures, I furvey Eridanus thro’ flow’ry meadoWs Itray, The king of floods ! that, rolling o’er the plains* The tow’ring Alps of half their moifture drains, And, proudly fvvoln with a whole winter’s fnows, Diftributes wealth and plenty where he flows. Sometimes, mifguided by the tuneful throng, I look for flreams immortaliz’d in fong, That loft in filence and oblivion lie, (Dumb are their fountains and their channels dry) Yet run for ever by the mufe’s Ikill, And in the fmooth defeription murmur Hill. Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire. And the fam’d river’s empty ihores admire, That, deftitute of ftrength, derives its courfe From thirfty urns, and an unfruitful fource ; D 2 151 Examples in epilio- lary poetry from Addi¬ fon, Yet 28 POE > Epiftle, Yet fung fo often in poetic lays, * v With fcorn the Danube and the Nile furveys ; So high the deathlefs mufe exalts her theme! Such was the Boyn, a poor inglorious ftream, That in Hibernian vales obfeurely ftray’d, And unobferv’d in wild meanders play’d j Till, by your lines, and Naffau’s fword renown’d, Its riling billows through the world refound, Where’er the hero’s godlike a£ts can pierce, Or where the fame of an immortal verfe. Oh cou’d the mufe my ravilh’d brealt inlpire With warmth like yours, and raife an equal fire-, Unnumber’d beauties in my verfe fhould Ihine, And Virgil’s Italy Ihould yield to mine ! See how the golden groves around me fmile, That fliun the coafts of Britain’s llormy Hie, Or when tranfplanted and preferv’d with care, Curfe the cold clime, and flarve in northern air. Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments To nobler talles, and more exalted fcents : Ev’n the rough rocks with tender myrtles bloom. And trodden weeds fend out a rich perfume. Bear me, fume god, to Baia’s gentle feats, Or cover me in Umbria’s green retreats j Where weftern gales eternally refide, And all the feafons lavifh all their pride : Bloffoms, and fruits, and flow’rs together rife, And the whole year in gay confufion lies. Immortal glories in my mind revive, And in my foul a thoufand pafiions drive, When Rome’s exalted beauties I defcry Magnificent in piles of ruin lie.. An amphitheatre’s amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight, That on its public fhows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb ; Here pillars rough with fculpture pierce the Ikies j And here the proud triumphal arches rife, Where the old Romans deathlefs a£ts difplay’d, Their bafe degenerate progeny upbraid : Whole rivers here forfake the fields below, And wond’ring at their height thro’ airy channels flow. Still to new fcenes my wand’ring mufe retires j And the dumb {how of breathing rocks admires ; Where the fmooth chiflel all its force has fhown, And foften’d intu flefli the rugged done. In folemn filenee, a majedic band, Heroes, and gods, and Roman confuls dand, Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, And emperors in Parian marble frown : While the bright dames, to whom they humbly fu’d, Still fhow the charms that their proud hearts fubdu’d. Fain would I Raphael’s godlike art rehearfe, And {how th’ immortal labours in my verfe, Where from the mingled drength of fliade and light A new creation rifes to my fight, Such heav’nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with life his blended colours glow. From theme to theme with fecret pleafare tod, Amidd the foft variety I’m lod. Here pleafing airs my ravifh’d foul confound With circling notes and labyrinths of found j Here domes and temples rife in diflant views, And opening palaces invite my mufe. TRY. * Fart II. How has kind heav’d adorn’d the happy land, Epiftle. And fcatter’c: bleflings with a wadeful hand ! j But what avail her unexhauded flores, Her blooming mountains, and her funny {bores. With all the gifts that heav’n and earth impart. The fmiles of nature, and the charms of art, While proud oppreflion in her valleys reigns, And tyranny ufurps her happy plains ? The poor inhabitant beholds in vain The red’ning orange and the fwelling grain • Joylefs he fees the growing oils and wines, And in the myrtle’s fragrant flrade repines : Starves, in the midd of nature’s bounty curfls And in the loaded vineyard dies for third. O liberty, thou goddefs heavenly bright, Profufe of blifs, and pregnant with delight ? Eternal pleafures in thy prefence reign, And fmiling plenty leads thy wanton train j Eas’d of her load, fubjection grows more light,. And poverty looks cheerful in thy fight j Thou mak’lt.the gloomy face of nature gay, Giv’d beauty to the fun, and pleafure to the day-. Thee, goddefs, thee, Britannia’s Hie adores j How has die oft exhauded all her dores, How oft in fields of death thy prefente fought, Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought! On foreign mountain may the fun refine The grape’s foft juice, and mellow it to wine, With citron groves adorn a didant foil, And the fat olive fwell with floods of oil : We envy not the warmer clime, that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent Ikies, Nor at the coarfenefs of our heav’n repine, Tho’ o’er our heads the frozen Pleiads fliine : ’Tis liberty that crowns Britannia’s Hie, [Tmiley And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains Others with tow’ring piles may pleafe the fight, And in their proud afpiring domes delight ; A nicer touch to the dreteh’d canvas give, Or teach their animated rocks to live : ’Tis Britain’s care to w'ateh o’er Europe’s fate, And hold in balance each contending date, To threaten bold prefumptuous kings with war, And anfwer her affliiRed neighbour’s pray’r. The Dane and Swede, rous’d up by fierce alarms, Blefs the wife condu£! of her pious arms : Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors ceafe, And all the northern world liesFulh’d' in peace. Th’ ambitious Gaul beholds with fecret dread Her thunder aim’d at his afpiring head, And fain her godlike funs would difunite By foreign gold, or by domedic fpite ; But drives in vain to conquer or divide, Whom Naflau’s arms defend arid eounfels guide. Fir’d with the name, which I fo oft have found The didant climes and diff’rent tongues refound, I bridle in my druggling mufe with pain, That longs to launch into a bolder drain. But I’ve already troubled you too long, Nor dare attempt- a more advent’rous long : My humble verfe demands a fofter theme, A painted meadow, or a purling dream y Unfit for heroes j whom immortal lays, And lines like Virgil’s, or like yours, diould praiie. T here Part II. * POE Epiftle. There is a fine fpirit of freedom, and love of liberty, ‘j y—' (Jifpiayed in the following letter from Lord Lyttleton to Mr Pope j and the meffage from the lhade of Virgil, which is truly poetical, and jullly preceptive, may prove an ufeful leffon to future bards. From Rome, 1730* IMMORTAL bard ! for whom each mufe has wove \tt etoa. £ajrep. garlands of the Aonian grove 5 Preferv’d, our drooping genius to reftore, When Addifon and Congreve are no more j After fo many liars extin£l in night, The darken’d age’s laft remaining light! * To thee from Latian realms this verfe is writ, Infpir’d by memory of ancient wit: « For now no more.thefe climes their influence boall, Fall’n is their glory, and their virtue loll; From tyrants, and from prietls, the mufes fly, Daughters of reafon and of liberty. Nor Bake now nor Umbria’s plain they love, Nor on the banks of Nar or Mincia rove j To Thames’s flow’ry borders they retire, And kindle in thy bread the Roman fire. So in the lhades, where cheer’d with fummer rays Melodious linnets warbled fprightly lays, Soon as the faded, falling leaves complain Of gloomy winter’s inaufpicious reign, No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love, But mournful filence faddens all the, grove. Unhappy Italy ! whofe alter’d Hate Has felt the word feverity of fate : Not that barbarian hands her fafces broke, And bow’d her haughty neck beneath their yoke $ Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown, Her cities defert, and her fields unfown ; But that her ancient fpirit is decay’d, That facred wifdom from her bounds is fled. That there the fource of fcience flows no more, WFence its rich dreams fupply’d the world before. Illudrious names! that once in Latium Ihin’d, Born to indrudl and to command mankind; Chiefs, by whofe virtue mighty Rome was rais’d, And poets, who thofe chiefs fublimely prais’d ! Oft I the traces you have left explore, Your allies vifit, and your urns adore 5 Oft kifs, with lips devout, fome mould’ring done. With ivy’s venerable lhade o’ergrown ; Thofe hallow’d ruins better pleas’d to fee, Than all the pomp of modern luxury. As late on Virgil’s tomb frelh flow’rs I flrow’d, While with th’infpiring mufe my bofom glow’d, Crown’d with eternal bays, my ravilh’d eyes Beheld the poet’s awful form arife: Stranger, he faid, whofe pious hand has paid Thefe grateful rites to my attentive Ihade, When thoQ lhalt breathe thy happy native air, To Pope this meflage from his mader bear. Great bard, whofe numbers I myfelf infpire, To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, If high exalted on the throne of wit, Near me and Homer thou afpire to fit, No more let meaner fatire dim the rays That flow majeflic from thy noble bays. In all the. flow’ry paths of^Pindus dray : But Ihun that thorny, that unpleafing way 5 TRY. Nor, when ea©h loft engaging tnuie is thine, Addrefs the lead attradlive of the nine. Of thee more worthy were the talk to raife A lading column to thy country’s praife, To ling the land, which yet alone can boad That liberty corrupted Rome has loll j Where fcience in the arms of peace is laid, And plants her palm beneath the olive’s lhade. Such was the theme for which my lyre I drung, Such was the people whofe exploits I fung j Brave, yet refin’d, for arms and arts renown’d, With diff’rent bays by Mars and Phoebus crown’d^ Dauntlefs oppofers of tyrannic fway, But pleas’d a mild Augustus to obey. If thefe commands fubmiflive thou receive,, Immortal and unblam’d thy name lhall live j Envy to black Cocytus fliall retire, And howl with furies in tormenting fire ; Approving time lhall confecrate thy lays, And join the patriot’s to the poet’s praife. The following letter from Mr Philips to the earl of Dorfet is entirely defcriptive j but is one of thofe de- icriptions which will be ever read with delight. Copenhagen, March 9. 1709. From frozen climes, and endlefs trafls of fnow, philips'* From dreams which northern winds forbid to flow, and ’ What prefent fliall the mufe to Dorfet bring, Or how, fo near the pole, attempt to ling ? The hoary winter here conceals from fight All pleating obje£ls which to verfe invite. The hills and dales, and the delightful woods, The flow’ry plains, and filver-dreaming floods, By fnow difguis’d, in bright confufion lie, And with one dazzling wade fatigue the eye. No gentle breathing breeze prepares the fpring, No bird within the defert region ling: The fliips, unmov’d, the boiil’rous winds defy, While rattling chariots o’er the ocean fly. The vad Leviathan wants room to play. And fpout his waters in the face of day : The darving wolves along the main fea fprowl, And to the moon in icy valleys howl. O’er many a {Inning league the level main Here fpreads itfelf into a glafiy plain: ■’ There folid billows of enormous fize, Alps of green ice, in wild diforder rife. And yet but lately have I feen, ev’n here. The winter in a lovely drefs appear. Ere yet the clouds let fall the treafur’d fnow,. Or winds began through hazy {kies to blow, At ev’ning a keen cadern breeze arofe, And the defeending rain unfully’d froze j Soon as the filent (hades of night withdrew, The ruddy morn difclos’d at once to view The face of nature in a rich difguife, And brighten’d ev’ry objcfl to ray eyes : For ev’ry flirub, and ev’ry blade of grafs, And ev’ry pointed thorn, feem’d wrought in glafs j In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns (how, >■ While through the ice the crimfon berries glow. The thick fprung reeds, which watery marflies yield, Seem’d polifli’d lances in a hodile field. The dag in limpid currents with furprife, Sees cryflal branches on his forehead rife : The 3 POE Epiftle. The fpreading oak, the hcceh, and tow’ring pine, Glaz’d over, in the freezing aether ihine. The frighted birds the rattling branches fhun, Which -wave and glitter in the diftant fun. When if a hidden guft of wind arife, The brittle foreft into atoms dies, The crackling wood beneath the tempeft bends, And in a fpangled (bower the profpe£t ends : Or, if a fouthern gale the region warm. And by degrees unbend the wint’ry charm, The traveller a miry country fees, And journeys fad beneath the dropping trees : Like fome deluded peafant Merlin leads Thro’ fragrant bow’rs and thro’ delicious meads, While here enchanted gardens to him rife, And airy fabrics there attract his eyes, His wandering feet the magic paths purfue, And while he thinks the fair illufion true, The tracklefs fcenes difperfe in fluid air, And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways appear j A tedious road the weary wretch returns, And, as he goes, the tranfient vifion mourns. The great ufe of medals is properly defcribed in the enfuing elegant epiftle from Mr Pope to Mr Addifon ; and the extravagant paflion which fome people entertain only for the colour of them, is very agreeably and very juftly ridiculed. See the wild wafte of all devouring years ! How Rome her own fad fepulchre appears ! With nodding arches, broken temples fpread ! The very tombs now vaniih like their dead ! Imperial wonders rais’d on nations fpoil’d, Where mix’d with (laves the groaning martyr toil’d ! Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods, Now drain’d a diftant country of her floods ! Fanes, which admiring gods with pride furvey, Statues of men, fcarce lefs alive than they ! Some felt the filent ftroke of mould’ring age, Some hoftile fury, fome religious rage *, Barbarian blindnefs, Chriftian zeal confpire, And papal piety, and Gothic: fire. Perhaps, by its own ruin fav’d from flame, Some bury’d marble half preferves a name .* That name the learn’d with fierce difputes purfue, And give to Titus old Vefpafian’s due. Ambition figh’d : She found it vain to truft The faithlefs column and the crumbling buft ; Huge moles, whofe (hadow ftretch’d from (hore to ftiore, Their ruins perifh’d, and their place no more •, Convinc’d, (lie, now contrails her vaft defign, And all her triumphs (brink into a coin. A narrow orb each crowded conqueft keeps, Beneath her palm here fad Judaea weeps ; Now fcantier limits the proud arch confine, And fcarce are feen the proftrate Nile or Rhine 5 A fmall Euphrates through the piece is roll’d, And little eagles wave their wings in gold. The medal, faithful to its charge of fame, Through climes and ages bears each form and name : In one fhort view fubjedled to our eye, Gods, emp’rors, heroes, fages, beauties, lie. With (harpen’d fight pale antiquaries pore, Th’ infeription value, but the ruft adore. TRY* This the blue varnith, that the green endears. The facred ruft of twice ten hundred year's : To gain Pefcennius pne employs his fchemes, One grafps a Cecrops in ecftatic dreams. Poor Vadius, long with learned fpleen devour’d, Can tafte no pleafure fince his ihield was fcour’d : And Curio, reftlefs by the fair one’s fide, Sighs for an Otho, and ncglef eafe which is its charadler, is perhaps more difficult to w'rite than the more elevated or fublime. A writer more readily per¬ ceives when he has rifen above the common language, than he perceives, in fpeaking this language, whether he has made the choice that is moft fuitable to the oc- cafion : and it is neverthelefs, upon this happy choice that all the charms of the familiar depend. Moreover, the elevated ftyle deceives and feduces, although if be not the beft chofen; whereas the familiar can procure itfelf no fort of refpecl, if it be not eafy, natural, juft, delicate, and unaffe&ed. A fabulift mutt therefore be¬ ftow great attention upon his ftyle; and even labour it fo much the more, that it may appear to have coft him no pains at all. The authority of Fontaine juftifies thefe opinions in regard to ftyle. His fables are perhaps the beft ex¬ amples of the genteel familiar, as Sir Roger I’Eftrange affords the groffeft of the indelicate and low. When we read, that “ while the frog and the moufe were dif- puting it at fwords-point, down comes a kite powder¬ ing upon them in the interim, and gobbles up both to¬ gether to part the fray;” and “ where the fox reproaches a bevy of jolly goflxpping wenches making merry over a difti of pullets, that if he but peeped into a hen-rooft, \ they alvrays made a bawling with their dogs and their baftards; while you yourfelves (fays he) can lie fluffing your guts with your hens and capons, and not a word of the pudding.” This may be familiar ; but it is alfo coarfe and vulgar, and cannot fail to difguft a reader that has the leaft degree of tafte or delicacy. The ftyle of fable then muft be Ample and familiar ; and it muft likewife be correct and elegant. By the E former, 34 POE Of Fables, former, v/e mean, that it fhould not be loaded with v ~ figure and metaphor that the difpofition of words be natural, the turn of fentences eafy, and their conllruftion unembarraffed. Ry elegance, we would exclude all coarfe and provincial terms •, all affected and puerile conceits j all obfolete and pedantic phrafes. To this we would ad- ioin, as the word perhaps implies, a certain finifhing po- lilh, which gives a grace and fpirit to the whole 5 and which, though it have always the appearance of nature, is almoft ever the effect of art. But notwithftanding all that has been faid, there are fome occafions on which it is allowable, and even expe¬ dient, to change the Ityle. The language of a fable mult rife or fall in conformity to the fubjeft. A lion, when in¬ troduced in his regal capacity, mull hold difeourfe in a ilrain fomewhat more elevated than a country moufe. The lionefs then becomes his queen, and the beads of the foreft are called his fubjefts ; a method that offers at once to the imagination both the animal and the perfon he is defigned to reprefent. Again, the buffoon-monkey thould avoid that pomp of phrafe, which the owl employs as her belt pretence to wifdom. Unlefs the ftyle be thus judicioufly varied, it will be impoffible to preferve a juft diftinflion of character. Defcriptions, at once concife and pertinent, add a grace to fable •, but are then moft happy when inclu¬ ded in the aflion : whereof the fable of Boreas and the Sun affords us an example. An epithet well chofen is often a defeription in itfelf •, and fo much the more agree¬ able, as it the lefs retards us in our purfuit of the cata- ftrophe. Laftly, little ftrokes of humour when arifing natu¬ rally from the fubjedt, and incidental rtfledlions when kept in due fubordination to the principal, add a value to thefe compolitions. Thefe latter, however, fliould be employed very fparingly, and with great addrefs 5 be very few, and vdry fhort : it is fcarcely enough that they naturally fpring out of the fubject ; they Ihould be lueh as to appear neceffary and effential parts of the fable. And when thefe embellifhments, pleafmg in themfelves, tend to illuftrate the main aftion, they then afford that namelefs grace remarkable in Fontaine and fome few others, and which perfons of the belt difeernment will more eafiiy conceive than they can ex¬ plain. Sect. X. Of Satire. Origin of - This kind of poem is of very ancient date, and (if fatire. we believe Horace) was introduced, by way of inter¬ lude, by the Greek dramatic poets in their tragedies, to relieve the audience, and take off the force of thofe ftrokes which they thought too deep and affefting. In thefe fatirical interludes, the feene was laid in the coun¬ try and the perfons were rural deities,, fatyrs, country peafants, and other ruftics. The firft Tragedians found that ferious ftyle Too grave for their uncultivated age, And fo brought wild and naked fatyrs in (Whofe motion, words, and (hape, were all a farce) As oft as decency would give them leave ; Becaufe the mad, ungovernable rout, Full of confufion and the fumes of wine, Lov’d fuch variety and antic tricks. Roscommon"'s Horace. TRY. Part II. The fatire we now have is generally allowed to be of Of Satire- Roman invention. It was firft introduced without the * ! decorations of feenes and aftion ; but written in verfes of different meafures by Ennius, and afterwards moulded into the form we now have it by Lucilius, whom Ho¬ race has imitated, and mentions with efteem. This is the opinion of moft of the critics, and particularly of Boileau, who fays, Lucilius led the way, and bravely bold, To Roman vices did the mirror hold j Protected humble goodnefs from reproach, Show’d worth on foot, and rafeals in a coach. Horace his pleafing wit to this did add, That none, uncenfur’d, might be fools or mad : And Juvenal, with rhetorician’s rage, Scourg’d the rank vices of a wicked age 5 Tho’ horrid truths thro’ all his labours fliine, In what he writes there’s fomething of divine. Our fatire, therefore, may be diftinguiftied into two kinds ; the jocofe, or that which makes fport with vice and folly, and fets them up to ridicule j and the ferious, or that which deals in afperity, and is fevere and acri¬ monious. Horace is a perfect mafter of the firft, and Juvenal much admired for the laft. The one is face¬ tious, and fmiles : the other is angry, and ftorms. The foibles of mankind are the object of one •, but crimes of a deeper dye have engaged the other. They both agree, however, in being pungent and biting : and from a due conlideration of the writings of thefe authors, who are our matters in this art, we may define fatire to be, A free, (and often jocofe), witty, and (harp poem, DefiIni^on wherein the follies and vices of men are lathed and rr-0f diculed in order to their reformation. Its fubjecl is whatever deferves our contempt or abhorrence, (includ¬ ing every thing that is ridiculous and abfurd, or fcanda- lous and repugnant to the golden precepts of religion and virtue). Its manner is inveflive; and its end, fhame. So that fatire may be looked upon as the phy- fician of a diftempered mind, which it endeavours to cure by bitteT and unfavoury, or by pleafant and falutary, ap¬ plications. ^ A good fatirift ought to be a man of wit and ad- Qualities drefs, fagacity and eloquence. He thould alfo have a of a good great deal of good-nature, as all the fentrments which are beautiful in this way of writing muft proceed from that quality in the author. It is good-nature produces that difdain of all bafenefs, vice, and folly, which prompts the poet taexprefs himfelf with fuch fmartnefs againft the errors of men, but without bitternefs to their per¬ fons. It is this quality that keeps the mind even, and never lets an offence unfeafonably throw the fatirift out of his charadler. In writing fatire, care ftiould be taken that it be true and general 5 that is, levelled at abufes in which num¬ bers are concerned : for the perfonal kind of fatire, or lampoon, which expofes particular charaflers, and af- fedts the reputation of thofe at whom it is pointed, is fcarcely to be diftinguiftied from fcandal and defamation. The poet alfo, whilft he is endeavouring to corredl the guilty, muft take care not to ufe fuch expreflions as may corrupt the innocent : he muft therefore avoid all obfeene words and images that tend to debafe and mif- lead the mind. Horace and Juvenal, the chief fatirifts Part II. POE 166 Proper ftyle of fatire. Of Satire, among the Romans, are faulty in this refpedl, and ought to be read with caution. The ityle proper for fatire is fometimes grave and animated, inveighing againft vice with warmth andear- neftnefs ; but that which is pleafant, fportive, and, with becoming raillery, banters men out of their bad difpofi- tions, has generally the belt effect, as it feems only to play with their follies, though it omits no opportunity of making them feel the lafh. The verfes fhould be fmooth and flowing, and the language manly, juft, and decent. Of well-chofe words fome take not care enough, And think they ftiould be as the fubje£t rough: But fatire muft be more exactly made, And ftjarpeft thoughts in fmootheft words convey’d. Duke of Bucks’s Satires, either of the jocofe or ferious kind, may be written in the epiftolary manner, or by way of dialogue. Horace, Juvenal, and Perfius, have given us examples of both. Nay, fome of Horace’s fatires may, without incongruity, be called epijlles, and his epiftles fatires. But this is obvious to every reader. Of the facetious kind, the fecond fatire of the fe- cend book of Horace imitated by Mr Pope, and Swift’s verfes on his own death, may be referred to as ex¬ amples. As to thofe fatires of the ferious kind, for which Ju¬ venal is fo much diftinguilhed, the charafferiftic proper¬ ties of which are, morality, dignity,andfeverity; abet¬ ter example cannot be mentioned than the poem enti¬ tled London, written in imitation of the third iatire of Ju¬ venal, by Dr Johnfon, who has kept up to the fpiritand force of the original. Nor muft we omit to mention Dr Young’s Love of Fame the Univerfal PaJJion, in feven fatires, which, though chara£teriftieal, abound with morality and good fenfe. The chara&ers are well felefted, the ridicule is high, and the fatire well pointed and to the pur- pofe. We have already obferved, that perfonal fatire ap¬ proaches too near defamation, to deferve any counte¬ nance or encouragement. Dryden’s Mack Flechnoe is for this reafon exceptionable, but as a compofition it is inimitable. Benefits of We have dwelt thus long on the prefent fubjeft, be- well-con- caufe there is reafon to apprehend, that the benefits ari- tkieled fa- £ng from well-condudfted fatire have not been fufficient- ly conftdered. A fatire may often do more fervice to the caufe of religion and virtue than a fermon j fince it gives pleafure, at the fame time that it creates fear or indignation, and conveys its fentiments in a manner the xnoft likely to captivate the mind. Of all the ways that wifeft men could find To mend the age and mortify mankind, Satire well writ has moft fuccefsful prov’d, And cures, becaufe the remedy is lov’d. Duke of Bucks’s FJfay. But to produce the defired effeft, it muft be jocofe, free, and impartial, though fevere. The fatirift ftiould always preferve good humour •, and, however keen he cuts, fhould cut with kindnefs. When he lofes temper, his weapons will be inverted, and the ridicule he threw at others will retort with contempt upon himfelf: for T R V. .. .is the reader will perceive that he is angry and hurt, and Of Satire- confider his fatire as the eiFe6t of malice, not of judge- ment j and that it is intended rather to wound perfons than reform manners. Rage you muft hide, and prejudice lay down : A fatyr’s finile is fharper than his frown. The beft, and indeed the only, method toexpofevice and folly effectually, is to turn them to ridicule, and hold them up for public contempt} and as it moft of¬ fends thefe objeCts of fatire, fo it leait hurts ourfelves. One paftion frequently drives out another; and as we cannot look with indifference on the bad aCtions of men (for they muft excite either our wrath or contempt), it is prudent to give way to that which moft offends vice and folly, and leaft affeCts our ft Ives; and to fneer and laugh, rather than be angry and fcold. 16S Burlefque poetry, which is chiefly ufed by way ofBmfiefqvw drollery and ridicule, falls properly to -be fpoken of^0®try‘T' under the head of fatire. An excellent example ofng this kind is a poem in blank verfe, intitled The SplendidHudibras. Shilling, written by Mr John Philips, which, in the opi¬ nion of one of the beft judges of the age, is the fineft burlefque in the Englifli language. In this poem the author has handled a low fubjeCt in the lofty ftyle and numbers of Milton ; in which way of writing Mr Phi¬ lips has been imitated by feveral, but none have come up to the humour and happy turn of the original. When we read it, we are betrayed into a pleafure that we could not expeCt} though, at the fame time, the fublimity of the ftyle, and gravity of the phrafe, feem to chaftife that laughter which they provoke. There is another fort of verfe and ftyle, which is moft frequently made ufe of in treating any fubjeCt in a lu¬ dicrous manner, viz. that which is generally called Hu- dibrajlic, from Butler’s admirable poem intitled Hudi- brus. Almoft every one knows, that this poem is a fa¬ tire upon the authors of our civil diffenfions in the reign of King Charles I. wherein the poet has, with abundance of wit and humour, expofed and ridiculed the hypocrify or blind zeal of thofe unhappy times. In (hurt, it is a kind of burlefque epic poem, which, for the oddity of the rhymes, the quaintnefs of the fimilies, the novelty of the thoughts, and that fine raillery which runs through the whole performance, is not to be paralleled. Sect. XI. Of the Epigram. The epigram is a little poem, or compoftion in wrfe, char^er treating of one thing only, and whofe di/linguifhirjg clui-0{x\\e epU rudders are, brevity, beauty, and point. gram. The word epigram fignifies “ infeription for epi¬ grams derive their origin from thofe inferiptions placed by the ancients on theirftatues, temples,,pillars, triumphal arches, and the like j which, at firft, were very fliort, be¬ ing fometimes no more than a fingle word •, but after¬ wards, increafing their length, they made them in verfe, to be the better retained by the memory. This ftiort way of writing came at laft to be ufed upon any occa- fion or fubjeft •, and hence the name of epigram has been given to any little copy of verfes, without regard to the original application of fuch poems. Its ufual limits are from two to 20 verfes, though fometimes it extends to 50 •, but the ftiorter, the better it is, and the more perfeft, as it partakes more of the E 2 - nature 36 Epigram. 170 Of what fubjedfs it- admits. i?1 Examples of Engliih epigrams remarkable for their delicacy, and POE nature and character of this kind of poem : befides, the epigram, being only a Angle thought, ought to be exprefled in a little compafs, or elfe it lofes its force and llrength. The beauty required in an epigram is an harmony and apt agreement of all its parts, a fweet fimplicity, and polite language. The point is a lharp, lively, unexpected turn of wit, with which an epigram ought to be concluded. There are feme critics, indeed, who will not admit the point in an epigram ; but require that the thought be equally dilfufed through the -whole poem, which is ufually the praCtice of Catullus, as the former is that of Martial. It is allowed there is more delicacy in the manner of Catullus ; but the point is more agreeable to the gene¬ ral tafte, and feems to be the chief charaCteriftic of the epigram. This fort of poem admits of all manner of fubjeCts, provided that brevity, beauty, and point, are prefer- ved •, but it is generally employed either in praife or fatire. Though the belt epigrams are faid to be fuch as are comprifed in two or four verfes, we are not to underltand it as if none can be perfect which exceed thofe limits. Neither the ancients nor moderns have been fo fcrupu- lous with refpeCt to the length of their epigrams ; but, however, brevitv in general is always to be ftudied in thefe compolitions. For examples of good epigrams in the Englilh lan¬ guage, we fhall make choice of feveral in the different taftes we have mentioned; fomeremarkable for their de¬ licate turn and fimplicity of expreffion ; and others for their fait and fharpnefs, their equivocating pun, or plea- fant allufion. In the firft place, take that of Mr Pope, faid to be -written on a glafs with the earl of Chefter- field’s diamond-pencil. Accept a miracle, inftead of wit; See two dull lines by Stanhope’s pencil writ. The beauty of this epigram is more eafily feen than defcribed; and it is difficult to determine, whether it does more honour to the poet who wrote it, or to the nobleman for whom the compliment is defigned.—The following epigram of Mr Prior is written in the fame tafte, being a fine encomium on the performance of an excellent painter. TRY. • Fart II. ’Tis Chloe’s eye, and cheek, and lip, and breaft:: t Epigram-. Friend Howard’s genius fancy’d all the reft. ’'"Y"' Moft of Mr Prior’s epigrams are of this delicate eaft, and have the thought, like thofe of Catullus, diffufed through the whole. Of this kind is his addrefs To Chloe Weeping. See, whilft thou weep’ft, fair Chloe, fee The world in fympathy with thee. The cheerful birds no longer fing, Each drops his head, and hangs his wing. The clouds have bent their bofom lower, And ffied their forrow in a ffiower. The brooks beyond their limits flow, And louder murmurs fpeak their wo : The nymphs and fwains adopt thy cares ; They heave thy fighs, and weep thy tears. Fantaftic nymph ! that grief fhould move Thy heart obdurate againft love. Strange tears ! whofe pow’r can foften all But that dear breaft on which they fall. The epigram written on the leaves of a fan by Dr Atterbury, late bifhop of Rochefter, contains a pretty thought, expreffed with eafe and concifenefs, and clofed in a beautiful manner. On a Fan. Flavia the leaft and flighteft toy Can with refiftlefs art employ. This fan in meaner hands wmuld prove An engine of fmall force in love . Yet the, wdth graceful air and mien, Not to be told or fafely feen, Directs its wanton motion fo, That it wounds more than Cupid’s bow, Gives coolnefs to the matchlefs dame, To ev’ry other breaft a flame. J . • • I72 We {ball now’ feleft fome epigrams of the biting and for their fatirical kind, and fuch as turn upon the/>«« or eyz//-point. voque, as the French call it: in which fort the point is more confpicuous than in thofe of the former cha¬ racter. The following diftich is an admirable epigram, ha¬ ving all the neceffary qualities of one, efpecially point and brevity. On a Flower, painted by VARELST. When fam’d Varelft this little v'onder drew. Flora vouchfaf’d the growing work to view ; Finding the painter’s feience at a ftand, The goddefs fnatch’d the pencil from his hand, And, finifhing the piece, {he foiling faid, Behold one work of mine which ne'er Jhallfade. Another compliment of this delicate kind he has made Mr Howard in the following epigram. Venus Mifaken. When Chloe’s picture was to Venus flxown j Surpris’d, the goddefs took it for her own. And what, faid (he, does this bold painter mean ? When was I bathing thus, and naked feen ? Pleas’d Cupid heard, and check’d his mother’s pride: A nd who’s blind now, mamma ? the urchin cry’d. On a Company of bad DANCERS to good Mufc. How ill the motion with the mufic fuits ! So Orpheus fiddled, and fo danc’d the brutes. This brings to mind another epigram upon a bad fiddler, which W'e {hall venture to infert merely for the humour of it, and not for any real excellence it contains. To a bad FlDDLER. Old Orpheus play’d fo well, he mov’d Old Nick; But thou mov’d: nothing but thy fiddle ftick. One of Martial’s epigrams, where he agreeably rallies the fooliffi vanity of a man who hired people to make verfes for him,' and publiffi them as his own, has been thus tranflated into Engliffi. Paul, fo fond of the name of a poet is grown, With gold he buys verfes, and calls them his own. Go POE Go on, matter Paul, nor mind what the world fays, They are furely his own for which a man pays. Some bad writer having taken the liberty to cenfure Mr Prior, the poet very wittily laftied his impertinence in this epigram: While fatter than his coftive brain indites Philo’s quick hand in flowing letters writes, His cafe appears to me like honeft Teague’s When he was run away with by his legs. Phoebus, give Philo o’er himfelf command ; Quicken his fenfes, or reftrain his hand : Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink ; So he may ceafe to write, and learn to think. Mr Wefley has given us a pretty epigram, alluding to a well-known text of Scripture on the fetting up a monument in Weftminfter Abbey, to the memory of the ingenious Mr Butler, author of Hudibras. While Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive, No generous patron would a dinner give. See him when ftarv’d to death, and turn’d to duft, Prefented with a monumental butt ! The poet’s fate is here in emblem fhown ; He alk’d for Bread, and he receiv’d a Stone. We fhall clofe this fedlion with an epigram written on the well-known ftory of Apollo and Daphne, by Mr Smart. When Phoebus -was am’rous and long’d to be rude, Mifs Daphne cry’d Pilh ! and ran fwift to the wood 5 And rather than do fuch a naughty affair, She became a fine laurel to deck the god’s hair. The nymph was, no doubt, of a cold conftitution j For fure, to turn tree was an odd refolution ! Yet in this flie behav’d like a true modern fpoufe, For (he fled from his arms to diftinguifli his brows. Sect. XII. Of the Epitaph. Charter These compofitions generally contain fome eulogium of the epi- of the virtues and good qualities of the deceafed, and taph. have a turn of ferioufnefs and gravity adapted to the nature of the fubje£t. Their elegance confifts in a nervous and expreflive brevity 5 and fometimes they are clofed with an epigrammatic point. In thefe compofi- tions, no mere epithet (properly fo called) fhould be admitted: for here illuftration would impair the ttrength, and render the fentiment too diffufe and languid. Words that are fynonymous are alfo to be rejected. Though the true charadteriftic of the epitaph is fe¬ rioufnefs and gravity, yet we may find many that are jocofe and ludicrous: fome likewife have true metre and rhyme j while others are between profe and verfe, without any certain meafure, though the words are truly poetical; and the beauty of this laft fort is generally heightened by an apt and judicious antithefis. We ftiall give examples of each. The following epitaph on Sir Philip Sydney’s fitter, the countefs of Pembroke, faid to be written by the fa¬ mous Ben Jonfon, is remarkable for the noble thought with which it concludes. TRY. On MARY Countef-dowager of PEMBROKE. Underneath this marble hearfe, Lies the fubjedt of all verfe, Sidney’s fitter, Pembroke’s mother : Death, ere thou haft kill’d another Fair, and learn’d, and good as ihe, Time ftiall throw a dart at thee. Take another epitaph of Ben Jonfon’s, on a beauti¬ ful and virtuous lady, which has been defervedly admir¬ ed by very good judges. Underneath this ftone doth lie As much virtue as could die j Which when alive did vigour give To as much beauty as could live. The following epitaph by Dr Samuel Johnfon, on a, mufician much celebrated for his performance, will bear a comparifon with thefe, or perhaps with any thing of the kind in the Englifli language. Philips ! whofe touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty pow’r and haplefs love, Reft here, dittreft by poverty no more 5 Find here that calm thou gav’ft fo oft before $ Sleep undifturb’d within this peaceful Ihrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine. It is the juft obfervation of an eminent critic, that the belt fubjeft for epitaphs is private virtue j virtue exerted in the fame circumftances in which the bulk of mankind are placed, and which, therefore, may admit of many imitators. He that has delivered his country from oppreflion, or freed the world from ignorance and error, befides that he ftands in no need of monumental panegyric, can excite the emulation of a very fmall number. The bare name of fuch men anfwers every purpofe of a long infcription, becaufe their achievements are univerfally known, and their fame is immortal.— But the virtues of him who has repelled the tempta¬ tions of poverty, and difdained to free himfelf from di* ftrefs at the expence of his honour or his confcience, as they were praftifed in private, are fit to be told, becaufe- they may animate multitudes to the fame firmnefs of heart and fteadinefs of refolution. On this account, there are few epitaphs of more value than the following, which Avas written by Pope on Mrs Corbet, who died of a cancer in her breaft. Here refts a ■woman, good without pretence, Bleft with plain reafon, and with fober fenfe 5 No conqueft fhe, but o’er herfelf defir’d ; No arts effay’d, but not to be admir’d. Paflion and pride were to her foul unknown, Convinc’d that virtue only is our own. So unaffected, fo compos’d a mind, So firm, yet foft, fo ftrong, yet fo refin’d, Heav’n, as its pureft gold, by tortures try’d j The faint fuftain’d it, but the woman dy’d. This epitaph, as well as the fecond quoted from Ben Jonfon, has indeed one fault •, the name is omitted. The end of an epitaph is to convey fome account of the dead 5 and to what purpofe is any thing told of him whofe Part II. Epigram. X74 Epitaphs in verfe, with re¬ marks up¬ on them. POE whofe name is concealed ? The name, it is true, may be infcribed by itfelf upon the done 5 but fuel) a fliift of the poet is like that of an unlkilful painter, who is obli¬ ged to make his purpofe known by adventitious help. Amongft the epitaphs of a punning and ludicrous eaft, w'e know of none prettier than that which is laid to have been written by Mr Prior oti himfelf, wherein he is pleafantly fatirical upon the folly of thofe who value themfelves upon account of the long feries of ance- ilors through which they can trace their pedigree. Nobles and heralds, by your leave, Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior, The fon of Adam and of Eve : Let Bourbon or Nafl'au go higher. The following epitaph on a mifer contains a good caution and an agreeable raillery. Reader, bewrare immod’rate love of pelf: Here lies the word of thieves, who robb’d himfelf. But Dr Swift’s epitaph on the fame fubjedt is a ma- derpiece of the kind. Beneath this verdant hillock lies Demer, the wealthy and the wife. His heirs, that he might fafely reft, Have put his carcafe in a cheft : The very cheft, in which, they fay. His other Self, his money, lay. And if his heirs continue kind To that dear felf he left behind, I dare believe that four in five Will think his better half alive. We ftiall give but one example more of this kind, which is a merry epitaph on an old fiddler, who was remarkable (wTe may fuppofe) for beating time to his trwn mufic. On Stephen the Fiddler. Stephen and time are now both even ; Stephen beat time, now time’s beat Stephen. Epitaphs in profe encomiaftic and We are come now to that fort of epitaph which re- jedts rhyme, and has no certain and determinate mea- fure •, but where the didfion muft be pure and ftrong, every word have weight, and the antithefis be prefer- ved in a clear and diredl oppofition. We cannot give a better example of this fort of epitaph than that on the tomb of Mr Pulteney in the cloilters of Weftmin- fter-abbey. Reader, If thou art a Briton, Behold this Tomb with Reverence and Regret: Here lie the Remains of Da.niel Pulteney, The kindeft Relation, the trueft Friend, The warmeft Patriot, the worthieft Man. He exercifed Virtues in this Age, Sufficient to have diftinguifli’d him even in the beft. Sagacious by Nature, Induftrious by Habit, Inquifitive with art j He gain’d a comvftete .Knowledge of the ftate of Britain, Foreign and Domeftic 3 TRY. In moft the backward Fruit of tedious Experience, In him the early acquifition of undiffipated Youth. He ferv’d the Court feveral Years: Abroad, in the aufpicious reign of Queen Anne 3 At home, in thereignof that excellent prince K. George I. He ferv’d his Country always, At Court independent, In the Senate unbiafs’d, At every Age, and in every Station, This was the bent of his generous Soul, This the bufinefs of his laborious Life. Public Men, and Public Things, Fie judged by one conftant Standard, The True Interejl of Britain : He made no other Diftimftion of Party, He abhorred all other. Gentle, humane, difinterefted, beneficent, He created no Enemies on his own Account: Firm, determined, inflexible, He feared none he could create in the Caufe of Britain. Reader, In this Misfortune of thy Country lament thy own: For know The Lofs of fo much private Virtue Is a public Calamity. . That poignant fatire, as well as extravagant praife, fatirical. may be conveyed in this manner, will be feen by the following epitaph written by Dr Arbuthnot on Francis Charteris 3 which is too well known, and too much ad¬ mired, to need our commendation. Part II. Epitaph. Here continueth to rot The body of FRANCIS CHARTERIS, Who with an inflexible Constancy, And INIMITABLE UNIFORMITY of Life, Persisted, In fpite of Age and Infirmities, In the Pradlice of every Human Vice, Excepting Prodigality and Hypocrisy: His infatiable Avarice exempted him from the firft. His matchlefs Impudence from the fecond. Nor wras he more Angular In the undeviating Pravity of his Manners, Than fuccefsful In Accumulating Wealth : For, without Trade or Profession, Without Trust of Public Money, And without Bribe-worthy Service, He acquired, or more properly created, A Ministerial Estate. He was the only Perfon of his Time Who could cheat without the Mafk of Honesty 3 Retain his Primaeval Meanness When poffeffed of Ten Thousand a-year; And having daily deferved the Gibbet for what he did. Was at lalt condemn’d to it for what he could not do. Oh indignant reader! Think not his Life ufelefs to Mankind 3 Providence conniv’d at his execrable defigns, To give to After-ages A confpicuous Proof and Example Of how fmall Eftimation is Exorbitant Wealth In the Sight of GOD, By His beftowing it on the moft UNWORTHY of ALL Mortals. We Part II.* POE Epitaph. We fhall conclude this fpecles of poetry with a droll » and fatirical epitaph written by Mr Pope, which we tranfcribed from a monument in Lord Cobham’s gardens at Stow in Buckinghamflrire. To the Memory of SlGNIOR FIDO, An Italian of good extraction $ Who came into England, Not to bite us, like moft of his Countrymen, But to gain an honeft Livelihood. He hunted not after Fame, Yet acquir’d it *, Regardlefs of the Praife of his Friends, But moft fenfible of their Love, Though he liv’d amongft the Great, He neither learnt nor flatter’d any Vice. He was no Bigot, Though he doubted of none of the 39 Articles. TRY. 39 And, if to follow Nature, i Epitaph. ^ And to refpeft the laws of Society, l“~"-y Be Philofophy, He was a perfect Philofopher, A faithful Friend, An agreeable Companion, A loving Hufband Diftinguifti’d by a numerous offspring, All which he liv’d to fee take good Courfes. In his old Age he retired To the houfe of a Clergyman in the country, Where he finiftied his earthly Race, And died an Honour and an Example to the whole Species, Reader, This Stone is guiltlefs of Flattery For he to whom it is infcrib’d Was not a Man, But a Gre-hound. PART III. ON VERSIFICATION. On this fubjedl it is meant to confine our inquiry to Latin or Greek hexameters, and to French and Eng- lifti heroic verfe ; as the obfervations we fhall have oc- cafion to make, may, with proper variations, be eafily ^ transferred to the compofition of other forts of verfe. ElTentials Before entering upon particulars, it muft be premifed of verfe. in general, that to verfe of every kind five things are of importance, ift, The number of fyllables that compofe a line. 2d, The different lengths of fyllables, i. e. the difference of time taken in pronouncing. 3d, The arrangement of thefe fyllables combined in words. 4th, The paufes or flops in pronouncing. 5th, Pro¬ nouncing fyllables in a high or a low tone. The three firft mentioned are obvioufly effential to verfe : if any of them be wanting, there cannot be that higher degree of melody which diftinguifheth verfe from profe. To give a juft notion of the fourth, it muft be obferved, that paufes are neceffary for three different purpofes : Regulation one>to feparate periods, and members of the fame period, ef paufes. according to the fenfe : another, to improve the melody of verfe : and the laft, to afford opportunity for drawing breath in reading. A paufe of the firft kind is variable, being long or Abort, frequent or lefs frequent, as the fenfe requires. A paufe of the fecond kind, being de¬ termined by the melody, is in no degree arbitrary. The laft fort is in a meafure arbitrary, depending on the reader’s command of breath. But as one cannot read with grace, unlefs, for drawing breath, opportunity be taken of a paufe in the fenfe or in the melody, this paufe ought never to be diftinguifhed from the others 5 and for that reafon (hall be laid afide. With refpe£l then to the paufes of fenfe and of melody, it may be affirmed without hefitation, that their coincidence in verfe is a capital beauty : but as it cannot be expelled, in a long work efpeeially, that every line fhould be fo perfedft •, we (hall afterward have occafion to fee, that, unlefs the reader be uncommonly fkilful, the paufe neceffary for the fenfe muft often, in fome degree, be facrificed to the verfe-paufe, and the latter fometimes to the former. The pronouncing fyllables in a high or low tone con¬ tributes alfo to melody. In reading, whether verfe or profe, a certain tone is aflumed, which may be called the ley-note ; and in that tone the bulk of the words are founded. Sometimes to humour the fenfe, and fome¬ times the melody, a particular fyllable is founded in a higher tone, and this is termed accenting a fyllable, or gracing it with an accent. Oppofed to the accent is the cadence, which, however, being entirely regulated by the fenfe, hath no peculiar relation to verfe. The ca¬ dence is a falling of the voice below the key-note at the clofe of every period •, and fo little is it effential to verfe, that in correct reading the final fyllable of every line is accented, that fyllable only excepted which clofes the period, where the fenfe requires a cadence. Though the five requifites above mentioned enter the compofition of every fpecies of verfe, they are however governed by different rules, peculiar to each fpecies. 179 Upon quantity only, one general obfervation may be Quantity, premifed, becaufe it is applicable to every fpecies of verfe. That fyllables, with refpe£l to the time taken in pro¬ nouncing, are long or fhort •, two ftiort fyllables, with refpeft to time, being precifely equal to a long one. Thefe two lengths are effential to verfe of all kinds ; and to no verfe, it is believed, is a greater variety of time neceffary in pronouncing fyllables. The voice indeed is frequently made to reft longer than ufual upon a word that bears an important fignification,; but this is done to humour the fenfe, and is not neceffary for melody. A thing not more neceffary for melody occurs with refpeft to accenting, fimilar to that now mentioned : A word fignifying any thing humble, low, or dejedled, is natu¬ rally, in profe as well as in verfe, pronounced in a tone below the key-note. We are now fufficiently prepared for particulars; be-' ginning with Latin or Greek hexameter, which are the ■ fame. The obfervations upon this fpecies of verfe will come under the four following heads; number,arrange¬ ment, paufe, and accent; for as to quantity, what is ob¬ ferved above may fuffice. I. HEXAMETER iSo Hexameter verfes of the Greeks and Ho¬ mans con- lift of what feet. POE I. HEXAMETER Limes, as to time, are all of the fame length $ being equivalent to the time taken in pronouncing twelve long fyllables or twenty-four Ihort. An hexameter line may confift of feventeen fyllables ; and when regular and not fpondaic it never has fewer than thirteen j whence it follows, that where the fyl¬ lables are many, the plurality muft be fhort j w'here few, the plurality muft be long. This line is fufceptible of much variety as to the fuc- cefffion of long and fliort fyllables. It is, however, fub- jeffted to laws that confine its variety within certain limits : and for afeertaining thefe limits, grammarians have invented a rule by daftyles and fpondees, which they denominate feet. Among the ancient Greeks and Romans, thefe feet regulated the pronunciation, which they are far from doing among us j of which the reafon will be difcovered from the explanation that we ftiall give of the Englilh accent. We (hall at prefent content ourfelves with pointing out the difference between our pronunciation and that of the Romans in the firft line of Airgil’s eclogues, where it is fcarcely credible how much we pervert the quantity. Tit'yre tu pat'uke rec'ubans fub teg'mine fagi. It will be acknowledged by every reader who has an ear, that we have placed the accentual marks upon every fyliable, and the letter of every fyllable, that an Eng- lithman marks with the iftus of his voice when he re¬ cites the line. But, as will be feen prefently, a fyl¬ lable which is pronounced with the ftrefs of the voice upon a confimant is uttered in the ftiorteft time poffible. Hence it follows, that in this verfe, as recited by us, there are but two long fyllables, tu and fa ; though it is certain, that, as recited by a Roman, it contained no fewer than eight long fyllables. TTtyre j tu patujlae recujbans fub | tegmine j fagi. But though to pronounce it in this manner with the voice dwelling on the vowel of each long fyllable would undoubtedly be correft, and preferve the true movement of the verfe, yet to an Englidi ear, prejudiced in behalf of a different movement, it founds fo very uncouth, that Lord Kames has pronounced the true feet of the Greek and Roman verfes extremely artificial and complex j and has fubftituted in their ftead the following rules, which he thinks more fimple and of more eafy ap¬ plication. i ft, The line muft always commence wnth a lorig fyllable, and dole with two long preceded by two Ihort. 2d, More than two ftiort can never be found together, nor fewer that two. And, 3d, Two long fyiiables which have been preceded by two Ihort cannot alfo be followed by two fhort. Thefe few rules fulfil all the conditions of a hexameter line with relation to order or arrangement. For thefe again a fingle rule may be fubftituted, which has alfo the advantage of re¬ gulating more affirmatively the conftru&ion of every ¥Aem. -of Part- To put this rule into words with perfpicuity, a itriticijm, hint is taken from the twelve long fyllables that com- Thap. xviii. p0fe an hexameter line, to divide it into twelve equal parts fed. 4. or p0rt;0nSj being each of them one long fyllable or two fliort. The rule then is : “ The ift, 3d, 5th,' 7th, 9th, nth, and I2th portions,, muft each of them be one long fyllable j the 10th muft always be two fhort fyl¬ lables j the 2d, 4th, 6lh, and 8th, may either be one TRY. Part III. long or two fhort.” Or to exprefs the thing ftill more Verfifica- fhortly, “ The 2d, 4th, 6th, and 8th portions may be , tl0n‘ , one long fyllable or two fhort y the 10th muft be two v ftiort fyllables 5 all the1 reft muft confift each of one long fyllable.” This fulfils all the conditions of an hexame¬ ter line, and comprehends all the combinations of da&yles and fpondees that this line admits. i8r Next in order comes the paufe. At the end of every paufes in hexameter line, every one muft be fenfible of a complete hexameter clofe or full paufe •, the caufe of which follows. The confidered two long fyllables preceded by two fhort, which always clofe an hexameter line, are a fine preparation for a ajeiotiy an4 paufe : for long fyllables, 01' fyllables pronounced flow, refembling a flow and languid motion tending to reft, naturally incline the mind to reft, or, which is the fame, to paufe ; and to this inclination the two preceding fhort fyllables contribute, which, by contraft, make the flow pronunciation of the final fyllables the more confpicuous. Befide this complete clofe or full paufe at the end, others are alfo requifite for the fake of melody ; of which two are clearly difcoverable, and perhaps there may be more. The longeft and moft remarkable fucceeds the 5th por¬ tion : the other, which, being fhorter and more faint, may be called the femipaufe, fucceeds the 8th portion. So linking is the paufe firft mentioned, as to be diftin- guifhed even by the rudeft ear : the monkifh rhymes are evidently built upon it; in which, by an invariable rule, the final word always chimes with that which im¬ mediately precedes the paufe : De planftu cudo || metrum cum carmine nudo Mingere cum bumbis [| res eft faluberrima lumbis. The difference of time in the paufe and femipaufe oc- cafions another difference not lefs remarkable 5 that it is lawful to divide a word by a femipaufe, but never by a paufe, the bad effecft of which is fenfibly felt in the following examples : Effufus labor, at||que inmitis rupta Tyranni Again : 7 ^ Obfervans nido imjjplumes detraxit; at ilia Again ; Loricam quam Dejjmoleo detraxerat ipfe The dividing a word by a femipaufe has not the fame bad effefl : Jamque pedem referens || cafus ejvaferat omnes. Again : Oualis populea || moerens Philo|mela fub umbra Again : Ludere quae vellem |[ calamo peijmifit agrefti. 'Lines, however, where words are left entire, without being divided even by a femipaufe, run by that mean* much the more fweetly. Nee gemere aerea || ceflabit; turtur ab ulmo. Again : Quadrupedante putrem |j fonitu quatit | ungula campum. Again : Eurydicen toto || referebant | flumine ripae. The reafon of thefe obfervations will be evident upon the flighteft refleftion. Between tilings fo intimately connecfed Part III. Ve’rfifica- connected in reading aloud as are fenfe and found, every degree of difcord is unpleafant : and for that reafon it v 'is a matter of importance to make the mufical paufes coincide as much as poflible with thofe ef fenfe ; which is requifite more efpecially with refpeft to the paufe, a deviation from the rule being lefs remarkable in a femi- paufe. Confidering the matter as to melody folely, it is indifferent whether the paufes be at the end of words or in the middle ; but when we carry the fenfe along, it is difagreeable to find a word fplit into two by a paufe, as if there were really two words : and though the dif- agreeablenefs here be connefled with the fenfe only, it is by an eafy tranfition of perceptions transferred to the found; by which means we conceive a line to be harfh and grating to the ear, when in reality it is only fo to the underftanding. To the rule that fixes the paufe after the 5th portion there is one exception and no more. If the fyllable fucceeding the 5th portion be Ihort, the paufe is fome- times poftponed to it. Pupillis quos dura || premit cuftodia matrum Again : In terras oppreffa || gravi fub religione Again : Et quorum pars magna || fui j quis talia fando This contributes to diverfify the melody ; and, where the words are fmooth and liquid, is not ungraceful 5 as in the following examples : Formofam refonare || doces Amaryllida fylvas Agricolas, quibus ipfa || procul difcordibus armis If this paufe, placed as aforefaid after the fhort fyl¬ lable', happen alfo to divide a word, the melody by thefe circumftances is totally annihilated. Witnefs the fol¬ lowing line of Ennius, which is plain profe : x8z Senfe. Romae moenia terru[|it impiger | Hannibal armis. Hitherto the arrangement of the long and Ihort fyl- lables of an hexameter line, and its different paufes, have been confidered with refpeft to melody : but to have a juft notion of hexameter verfe, thefe particulars muft al¬ fo be confidered with refped to fenfe. There is not per¬ haps in any other fort of verfe fuch latitude in the long and fhort fyllables j a circumftance that contributes greatly to that richnefs of melody which is remarkable in hexameter verfe, and which made Ariftotle pronounce ^ that an epic poem in any other verfe would not fuc- ca]x°2C6ed * 0ne defeft> hot; ever, muft not be diffembled, 1 ‘ ^ that the fame means which contribute to the richnefs of the melody render it lefs fit than feveral other forts for a narrative poem. There cannot be a more artful con¬ trivance, as above obferved, than to clofe an hexameter line with two long fyllables preceded by two Ihort : but unhappily this conftru&ion proves a great embarraffment to the fenfe ; which will thus be evident. As in gene¬ ral there ought to be a drift concordance between the thought and the words in which it isdreffed •, fo, in par¬ ticular, every clofe in the fenfe ought to be accompanied willi a clofe in the found. In profe this law may be -•ifriftly obferved, but in verfe the fame ftriftnefs would Vol. XVII. Tart I. POETRY. 41 occafion infuperable difficulties. Willing to facrifice to Verfifica- the melody of verfe fome (bare of the concordance be- , tl^n' . tween thought and expreflion, we freely excufe the fe- paration of the mufical paufe from that of the fenle dur¬ ing the courfe of a line j but the clofe of an hexameter line is too confpicuous to admit this liberty : for which reafon there ought always to be fome paufe in the fenfe at the end of every hexameter line, wTere it but fuch a paufe as is marked by a comma ; and for the fame rea¬ fon there ought never to be a full clofe in the fenfe but at the end of a line, becaufe there the melody is clofed. An hexameter line, to preferve its melody, cannot well admit any great relaxation ; and yet, in a narrative poem, it is extremely difficult to adhere ftriftly to the rule even with thefe indulgences. Virgil, the chief of poets for verfification, is forced often to end a line with¬ out any clofe in the fenfe, and as often to clofe the fenfe during the running of a line 5 though a clofe in the me¬ lody during the movement of the thought, or a clofe in the thought during the movement of the melody, can¬ not be agreeable. 2g5 The accent, to which we proceed, is not lefs effential Obterva- than the other circumftances above noticed. By a good t^ons on t^fe ear it will be difcerned, that in every line there is oneaccent‘ fyllable diftinguifhable from the reft by a capital accent : That fyllable, being the feventh portion, is invariably long. Nec bene promeritis || capitur nec J tangitur ira Again : Non fibi fed toto || genitum fe | credere mundo , Again : Quails fpelunca Jj fubitd comjmota columba In thefe examples the accent is laid upon the laft fyl¬ lable of a word ; which is favourable to the melody in the following refpeft, that the paufe, which for the fake of reading diftinftly muft follow every word, gives op¬ portunity to prolong the accent. And for that reafon, a line thus accented has a more fpirited air than when the accent is placed on any other fyllable. Compare the foregoing lines with the following. Alba neque Affyrio || fucatur } lana veneno Again ; Panditur interea ][ domus omnipojtentis Olympi * Again : Olli fedato || refpdndit j corde Latinus. In lines where the paufe comes after the ihort fyllable ' fucceeding the 5th portion, the accent is difplaced, and rendered lefs fenfible : it feems to be fplit into two, and to be laid partly on the 5th portion, and partly on the 7th, its ufual place j as in Nuda genu, nodoque || firms coljlefta fluentes. Again : Formofam refonare || doces AmarHlida fylvas. Befide this capital accent, {lighter accents are laid upon other portions ; particularly upon the 4th, unlefs where it confifts of two fhort fyllables 5 upon the 9th, which is always a long fyllable ; and upon the nth, F where 1S4 Order and arrange¬ ment do not confti- lute the whole me¬ lody of an hexameter verle. POETRY, where the line concludes with a monofyllable. Such conclufion, by the by, impairs the melody, and for that reafon is not to be indulged unlefs where it is expreflive of the fenfe. The following lines are marked with all the accents. Ludere quae vellem calamo permifit agrefti Again : Et durae quercus fudabunt rofcida mella Again : Parturiunt montes, nafcitur ndiculus mus. Reflc&ing upon the melody of hexameter verfe, we find, that order or arrangement doth not conftitute the whole of it : for when we compare different lines, equally regular as to the fuccefiion of long and fhort fyl- lables, the melody is found in very different degrees of perfection *, which is not occafioned by any particular combination of daftyles and fpondees, or of long and fhort fyllables, becaufe we find lines where da&yles pre¬ vail, and lines where fpondees prevail, equally melodi¬ ous. Of the former take the following inflance : iEneadum genitrix hominum divumque voluptas. Of the latter: Molli paulatim flavefcet campus arifta. What can be more different as to melody than the two following lines, which, however, as to the fucceflion of long and fhort fyllables, are conftruCted precifely in the fame manner ? Part III, Spend. Daft. Spend. Spend. Daft. Spend. Ad talos ftola dimiffa et circumdata palla. Spend. Daft. Spend. Spend. Daft. Spend. Placatumque nitet diffufo lumine coelum. Hor. Lucret. in the former, the paufe falls in the middle of a word, which is a great blemifh, and the accent is difturbed by a barfh elifion of the vowel a upon the particle et. In the latter, the paufes and the accent are all of them diftind: and full : there is no elifion : and the words are more liquid and founding. In thefe particulars con- fifts the beauty of an hexameter line with refpeCt to me¬ lody •, and by neglcfling thefe, many lines in the fatires and epiflles of Horace are lefs agreeable than plain profe *, for they are neither the one nor the other in per- feftion. To draw melody from thefe lines, they muff be pronounced without relation to the fenfe : it muff not be regarded that words are divided by paufes, nor that harfh elifions are multiplied. To add to the account, profaic low.founding words are introduced ; and, which is flill worfe, accents are laid on them. Of fuch faulty lines take the following inflances. Candida reClaque fit, munda haftenus fit neque longa. Jupiter exclamat fimul atque audirit j at in fe Cuflodes, leClica, ciniflbnes, parafitae Optimus eft modulator, ut Alfenus Vafer omni r^jnc illud tantum quseram, meritone tibi fit. Thefe obfervations on paufes and femi-paufes, and on the ftrudure of an hexameter line, are doubtlefs ingeni¬ ous •, but it is by no means certain that a ftriCi attention Verfifica- to them would affift any man in the writing of fuch . verfes as would have been pleafing to a Roman ear. Many of his lordthipV rules have no other foundation than what refts on our improper mode of accenting La¬ tin words $ which to Virgil or Lucretius would proba¬ bly have been as offenfive as the Scotch accent is to a native of Middlefex. II. Next in order comes English heroic verse ; which (hall be examined under the heads of number, ac¬ cent, quantity, movement, and paufe. Thefe have been treated in fo clear and mafterly a manner by Sheridan in his Art of Reading, that we fhall have little more to do than abridge his dodlrine, and point out the few in- ftances in which attachment to a fyftem and partiality to his native tongue feem to have betrayed him into error, or at leaft made him carry to an extreme what is juft only when ufed with moderation. “ Numbers, in the ftrift fenfe of the word *, whether * Art of- with regard to poetry or mufic, confift in certain impref-^Jj^... fions made on the ear at ftated and regular diftances. The loweft fpecies of numbers is a double ftroke of the fame note or found, repeated a certain number of times, at equal diftances. i he repetition of the {vcaafngle note in a continued feries, and exadlly at equal diftances, like the ticking of a clock, has in it nothing numerous j but the fame note, twice ftruck a certain number of times, with a paufe between each repetition of double the time of that between the Jlrokes, is numerous. The reafon is, that the pleafure arifing from numbers, confifts in the obfervation of proportion ; now the repetition of the fame note, in exaflly the fame intervals, will admit of no proportion. But the fame note twice ftruck, with the paufe of one between the two ftrokes, and repeated^ again at the diftance of a paufe equal to two, admits of the proportional meafurement in the paufes of two to one, to which time can be beaten, and is the loweft and fim- pleft fpecies of numbers. It may be exemplified on the drum, as tum-tum—tum-tu m--tum-tum, &c. “ The next progreflion of numbers is, when the fame note is repeated, but in fuch a way as that one makes a more fenfible impreffion on the ear than the other, by being more forcibly ftruck, and therefore having a great¬ er degree of loudnefs •, as ti-tum—ti-tum j or, tum-ti —tum-ti : or when two weak notes precede a more forcible one, as ti-ti-tu m-ti-ti-tu mj or when the weak notes follow the forcible one, tum-ti-ti—tu m-ti-ti. “ In the firft and loweft fpecies of numbers which we have mentioned, as the notes are exaaiy the fame in every refpeft, there can be no proportion obferved but in the time of the paufes: In the fecond, which rifes m a degree juft above the other, though the notes are ftijl the fame, yet there is a diverfity to be obferved m their refpedlive loudnefs and foftnefs, and therefore a mea- furable proportion of the quantity of found. In them we muft likewifetake into confideration the order ot the notes, whether they proceed from ftrong to weak, or from weak to ftrong ; for this diverfity of order occa- fions a great difference in the impreflions made upon the ear, and in the effects produced upon the mind. To ex- prefs the diverfity of order in the notes in all its leveral kinds, the common term movement may be uled, as the term meafure will properly enough exprefs the dif¬ ferent proportions of time both m the paufes and in the notes.” For Part III. POE For it is to be observed, that all notes are not of the fame length or on the fame key. In poetry, as well as in mufic, notes may be high or low, flat or fharp •, and fome of them may be prolonged at pleafure. “ Poetic numbers are indeed founded upon the very fame prin¬ ciples with thofe of the muiical kind, and are governed by fimilar laws (fee Music). Proportion and order are the fources of the pleafure which we receive from both ; and the beauty of each depends upon a due obfervati.on of the laws of meafure and movement. The effential difference between them is, that the matter of the one is articulate, that of the other inarticulate founds : but fyllables in the one correfpond to notes in the other ^ po¬ etic feet to mufical bars j and verfes to drains ; in a word, they have all like properties, and are governed by laws of the fame kind. “ From what has been faid, it is evident, that the ef- fence of numbers confifts in certain impreffions made on the mind through the ear at ftated and regular diftances of time, with an obfervation of a relative proportion in thofe diftances •, and that the other circumftances of long or ibort in fyllables, or diverfity of notes in uttering them, are not effentials but only accidents of poetic num¬ bers. Should this be queftioned, the objeftor might be filenced by having the experiment tried on a drum, on which, although it is incapable of producing long or Ihort, high or low notes, there is no kind oi metre which may not be beat. That, therefore, which regulates the feries and movement of the impreflions given to the ear by the recitation of an Englilh verfe, muft, when pro¬ perly difpofed, conftitute the effence of Englifti poetic numbers ; but it is the accent which particularly inl- preffes the found of certain fyllables or letters upon the ear 5 for in every word there is a fyllable or letter ac¬ cented. The neceflity and ufe of the accent, as well in profe as in verfe, we fliall therefore proceed to ex¬ plain. ^ “ As words may be formed of various numbers of iyl- lables, from one up to eight or nine *, it w’as neceffary that there ftiould be fome peculiar mark to diftinguifli words from disjointed fyllables, otherwife fpeech would be nothing but a continued fucceflion of fyllables con¬ veying no ideas. I his diftmftion of one word from an¬ other might be made by a perceptible paufe at the end of each in fpeaking, analogous to the diftance made be¬ tween them in writing and in printing. But thefe paufes would make diicourfe difguftingly tedious j and though they might render words fufficiently diftinfl, they would make the meaning of fentences extremely confufed. Words might alfo be diftinguiftied from each other, and from a colleftion of detached fyllables, by an elevation or deprejjion of the voice upon one fyllable of each word •, and this, as is well known to the learned, was the prac¬ tice of the Greeks and Romans. But the Englilh tongue has for this purpofe adopted a mark of the eafieft and ft m pie ft kind, which is called accent. By accent is meant, a certain ftrefs of the voice, upon a particular letter of a fyllable, which diftinguilhes it from the reft, and at the fame time diftinguifhes the fyllable itfelf to which it belongs from the other fyllables which compofe the word. Thus, in the word hab’it, the accent upon the b diftinguilhes that letter from the others, and the firft fyllable from the laft; add more fyllables to it, and it will ftill do the fame, as Jiab'itab/e. In the word ac~ cfv’t, the p is the diftinguiftied letter, and the fyllable * Art of Reading, voL i. T R Y. 43 which contains it the diftinguiftied fyllable 5 but if we Verfifica- add more fyllables to it, as in the word adceptablc, the tl<*n' feat of the accent is changed to the firft iyliable, of which c is the diftinguiftied letter. Every word in our language of more fyllables than one has one of the fyl¬ lables diftinguithed from the reft in this manner, and every monofyllable has a letter. Thus, in the word hat' the t is accented, in hate the vowel a, in cub' the b, and in eftbe the u: fo that as articulation is the effence of fyllables, accent is the effence of words; which with¬ out it would be nothing more than a mere fucceflion of fyllables.” We have faid, that it was the pradlice of the Greeks and Romans to elevate or deprefs their voice upon , one fyliable of each word. In this elevation or depreffion confifted their accent ; but the Englifti accent confifts in the mere ftrefs of the voice, without any change of note. “ Among the Greeks, all fyllables were pronounced ei¬ ther in a high, low, or middle note ; or elfe in a union of the high and low by means of the intermediate. The middle note, which was exactly at an equal diftance be¬ tween the high and ihe low, was that in which the un¬ accented fyllables were pronounced. But every word had one letter, if a monofyllable ; or one fyllable, it it confifted of more than one, diftinguiftied from the reft ; either by a note of the voice perceptibly higher than the middle note, which was called the acute accent; or by a note perceptibly, and in an equal proportion, lower than the middle one, which was called the grave accent ; or by an union of the acute and grave on one f% liable, which was done by the voice palling from the acute, through the middle note, in continuity down to the grave, which was called the circumflex?"1 “ Now in pronouncing Englifti words, it is true that one fyllable is always diftinguiftied from the reft ; but it is not by any perceptible elevation or depreflion of the voice, anv high or low note, that it is done, but merely by dwelling longer upon it, or by giving it a more forcible ftroke. When the ftrefs or accent is on the vowel, we dwell longer on that fyllable than on the reft ; as, in the words glory, father, holy. When it is on the confonant, the voice, paffmg rapidly over the vowel, gives a fmarter ftroke to the confonant, which diftinguithes that fyllable from others, as in the words bat'tle, hah'it, badrow?' Having treated fo largely of accent and quantity, the next thing to be confidered in verfe will be quickly difeuffed ; for in Englilh it depends wholly on the feat of the accent. “ When the accent or flrefs is on tire vowel, the fyllable is neceffarily long, becaufe the ac¬ cent cannot be made without dwelling on the vowel a longer time, than ufual. When it is on the confonant, the fyllable is ftiort; becaufe the accent is made by paf- fing rapidly over the vowel, and giving a fmart ftroke of the voice to the following confonants. Thus the words ad'd, led', bid', cub', are all Ihort, the voice paf- fing quickly over the vowel to the confonant; but for the contrary reafon, the words dll, laid, bide, cube, are long ; the accent being on the vowels, on which the voice dwells fome time before it takes in the found of the confonant.” “ Obvious as this point is, it has wholly efcaped the obfervation of many an ingenious and learned writer. Lord Kames affirnn *, that accenting is confined in#£/>0y Englifti heroic verfe to the long fyllables ; for a ftiort Cut. voL i\. F 2 fyllable 44- POE VerfiSca- fyllable (fays he) Is not capable of an accent: and Dr tl0n‘ Forfter, •vvlio ought to have underftood the nature of v the Englifh accent better than his Lordfhip, alks, whe¬ ther we do not ‘ employ more time in uttering the jirjl fyllables of heavily, hajlihj, quickly, Jlovoly ; and the fecond in folicit, miftaking, refearches, de/ujive, than in * Art «/ the others P To this queftion Mr Sheridan replies * Reading, that “ in fome of thefe words we certainly do as the Doctor fuppofes j in hdjlily, Jlovoly, mijiaking, delujive, for inrtance j where the accent being on the vowels ren¬ ders their found long ; but in all the others, heuv'ily, quick'ly, fo/is'-it, re-fear’dies, where the accent is on the confonant, the fyllables head, quick'. Us' fed, are pronounced as rapidly as poflible,. and the vowels are all fliort. In the Scotch pronunciation (continues he) they would indeed be all reduced to an equal quantity, as thus ; hdi-vi/y, hdis-tilq, q;teek-ly, fow-ly, fo-lee-cit, re- fdir-ches, de-lu-Jive. But here we fee that the four fhort fyllables are changed into four long ones of a different found, occafioned by their placing the feat of the accent on the vow7els inllead of the confonants : thus inftead of lied they fay hdiv ;r for quick', quick ; for /is, leece ; and lot fed, fair. It appears therefore, that the quantity of Englifh fyllables is adjufted by one eafy and Ample rule \ which is, that when the feat of the accent is on a vowel, the fyllable is long ; when on a consonant, fhort •, and that all unaccented fyllables are Ihoft. Without a due ob- fervation of quantity in reciting verfes there will be no poetic numbers ; yet in compofing Englifh verfes the poet need not pay the leaf! attention to the quantity of his fyllables, as meafure and movement will refult from the obfervation of other laws, which arc now to be ex¬ plained. ! It has been affirmed by a writer f of great authority Karnes. among the critics, that in Englifh heroic verfe every lind confifls of ten fyllables, five fhort and five long $ from which there are but two exceptions, both of them rare. The firft is, where each line of a couplet is made eleven fyllables, by an additional fhort fyllable at the end. There heroes wit's are kep't in pond’rous vafes, And beaus' in fnuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes. The other exception, he fays, concerns the fecond line of a couplet, which is fometimes ftretched out to twelve fyllables, termed an Alexandrine line. A needlefs Alexandrine ends the fong, That, like a wounded fnake, drags its flow length along. After what has been juft faid, it is needlefs to flop for tire purpofe of pointing out the ingenious author’s mi- ftake refpedting long and fhort fyllables. Every atten¬ tive reader of what has been already laid down, muft perceive, that in the firft line of the former couplet, though there are no fewer than fix accented fyllables when it is properly read, yet of thefe there are but three that are long, viz. thofe which have the accent on the vowel. Our bufinefs at prefent is, to fhow the falfity of the rule which reftrains the heroic line to ten fyllables j and this we ffiall do by producing lines of a greater number. T R Y. Part III. And the fhrill founds ran echoing through the wood. V®f;^ca' This line, though it confifts of eleven fyllables, and has 'r"“ the laft of thofe accented, or, as Lord Karnes would fay, long, is yet undoubtedly a heroic verfe of very fine found. Perhaps the advocates for the rule may con¬ tend, that the vowel o in echoing ought to be ftruck out by an apoftrophe ; but as no one reads, And the fhrill founds ran ech’ing through the wmod, it is furely very abfurd to omit in writing what cannot be omitted in utterance. The two following lines have each eleven fyllables, of which not one can be fuppreffed in recitation. Their glittering textures of the filmy dew, The great hierarchal ftandard was to move. Mr Sheridan quotes as a heroic line, O’er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp ; and obferves what a monftrous line it would appear, if pronounced, O’er man’ a frozen, manr a fi’ry Alp, inftead of that noble verfe, which it certainly is, when all the thirteen fyllables are diftinftly uttered. Pie then produces a couplet, of which the former line has four, teen,, and the latter twelve fyllables. And many an amorous, many a humorous lay, Which many a bard had chaunted many a day. That this is a couplet of very fine found cannot be con¬ troverted 5 but we doubt whether the numbers of it or. of the other quoted line of thirteen fyllables be truly he¬ roic. To our ears at leaft there appears a very percep¬ tible difference between the movement of thefe verfes and that of the verfes of Pope or Dryden j and we think, that, though fuch- couplets or fingle lines maw, for the fake of variety or expreffion, be admitted into a heroic poem, yet a poem wholly compofed of them would not be confidered as heroic verfe. It has a much greater refemblance to the verfe of Spenfer, which is now broke into two lines, of which the firft has eight and the fecond fix fyllables. Nothing, however, feems to be more evident, from the other quoted inftances, than that a heroic line is not confined to the fyllable*,. and that it is not by the number of fyllables that an Englifh verfe is to be meafured. But if a heroic verfe in our tongue be not compoftd, as in French, of a certain number of fyllables, how is it formed ? We anfvver by feet, as was the hexameter line of the ancients ; though between their feet and ours there is at the fame time a great difference. The poetic feet of the Greeks and Romans are formed by quantity, thofe of the Engliffi by ftrefs or accent. “ Though thefe terms are in continual ufe, and in the mouths of all who treat of poetic numbers, very confufed and erro¬ neous ideas are fometimes annexed to them. Yet as the knowledge of the peculiar genius of our language with regard to poetic numbers and its charafleriftical differ¬ ence from others in that refpedt, depends upon our hav¬ ing clear and precife notions of thofe terms, it will be neceffary to have them fully explained. The general nature of them has been already fufficiently laid open, and 2 Part III.. P O E Verfifica- and we have now only to make fome obfervations on . tl0n‘ their particular effefls in the formation of metre. “ No fcholar is ignorant that quantity is a term which relates to the length or the Ihortnefs of fyllables, and that a long fyllable is double the length of a fhort one. Now the plain meaning of this is, that a long fyllable takes up double the time in founding that a fhort one does ; a faft of which the ear alone can be the judge. When a fyllable in Latin ends with a confonant, and the fubfequent fyllable commences with one, every fchool-boy knows that the former is long, to ufe the technical term, by the law of pojition. This rule was in pronunciation ftri&ly obferved by the Romans, who always made fuch fyllables long by dwelling on the vowels ; whereas the very reverfe is the cafe with us, becaufe a quite contrary rule takes place in Englifh words fo conftru&ed, as the accent or ftrefs of the voice is in fuch cafes always transferred to the confonant, and the preceding vowel being rapidly paffed over, that fyl¬ lable is of courfe fhort. “ The Romans had another rule of profody, that when one fyllable ending with a vowel, was followed by another beginning with a vowel, the former fyllable was pronounced fhort; whereas in Englifh there is ge¬ nerally an accent in that cafe on the former fyllable, as in the word pious, which renders the fyllable long. Pronouncing Latin therefore by our own rule, as in the former cafe, we make thofe fyllables fhort which were founded long by them ; fo in the latter we make thofe fyllables long which with them were fhort. We fay ar’ma and •virum'que, inflead of drma and virunique; few and tuus, inftead oi fcio and tuust. “ Having made thefe preliminary obfervations, we proceed now to explain the nature of poetic feet. Feet in verfe correfpond to bars in mufic : a certain number of fyllables conne&ed form a foot in the one, as a cer¬ tain number of notes make a bar in the other. They are called feet, becaufe it is by their aid that the voice as it were fleps along through the verfe in a meafured pace j and it is neceflary that the fyllables which mark this regular movement of the voice fhould in fome meafure be dirtinguifhed from the others. This di- ftin&ion, as we have already obferved, was made among the ancient Romans, by dividing their fyllables into long and fhort, and afeertaining their quantity by an exaft proportion of time in founding them } the long being to the fhort as two to one 5 and the long fyllables, being thus the more important, marked the movement of the verfe. In Englifh, fyllables are divided into accented and unaccented ; and the accented fyllables being as ftrongly diftinguithed from the unaccented, by the pe¬ culiar ffrefs of the voice upon them, are as capable of marking the movement, and pointing out the regular TRY. 4-5 paces of the voice, as the long fyllables were by their V erfifica- quantity among the Romans. Hence it follows, that our , . accented fyllables correfponding to their long ones, and our unaccented to their fhort, in the ftrudlure of poetic feet, an accented fyllable followed by one unaccented in the fame foot will anlwer to their trochee ; and pre¬ ceded by an unaccented one, to their iambus ; and fo with the reft. “ All feet ufed in poetry confift either of two or three fyllables ; and the feet among the ancients were denominated from the number and quantity of their fyllables. The meafure of quantity was the fhort fyl¬ lable, and the long one in time was equal to two fhort. A foot could not confift of lefs than two times, becaufe it muft contain at leaft two fyllables ; and by a law re- fpe&ing numbers, which is explained elfewhere (fee Music), a poetic foot would admit of no more, than four of thofe times. Confequently the poetic feet were neceflarily reduced to eight; four of two fyllables, and four of three. Thofe of two fyllables muft either con¬ fift of two fhort, called a pyrrhic; tw'o long, called a fpondee ; a long and a fhort, called a trochee ; or a fhort and a long, called an iambus. Thofe of three fyllables were, either three fhort, a tribrach; a long and two fhort, a daByl; a fhort, long, and fhort, an amphibrach j or two fhort and a long, an anapeej} (y). We are now fufficiently prepared for confidering what feet enter into the compofition of an Englifh heroic verfe. The Greeks and Romans made ufe of but two feet in the ftru&ure of their hexameters j and the Englifh heroic may be wholly compofed of one foot, viz. the iambic, which is therefore the-foot moil congenial to that fpecies of verfe. Our-poetry indeed abounds with verfes into which no other foot is admitted- Such as, The pow’rs | gave ear | and granjted half | his pray’r, , The reft' J the winds | difper-’d | in emp'|ty air. Our heroic line, however, is not wholly reftrained to the ufe of this foot. In the opinion of Mr Sheridan it ad¬ mits all the eight before enumerated ; and it certainly excludes none, unlvfs perhaps the tribrach. It is known to every reader of Englifh poetry, that fome of the fineft heroic verfes in our language begin w ith a trochee ; and that Pope, the fmootheft of all our verfifiers, was remark¬ able for his ufe of this foot, as is evident from the fol¬ lowing example, where four fuccceding lines out of fix have a trochaic beginning. Her lively looks a fprightly mind difclofe, Quick as | her eyes | and as unfix’d as thofe : Favours [ to none | to all fhe fmiles extends, O'ft fhe | rejedls | but never once offends. Bright as | the fun | her eyes the gazers ftrike, And like the fun fhe fhines on all alike. The • (Y) ^or t*16 convenience of the lefs learned reader we fhall here fubjoin a fcheme of poetic feet, ufing the marks ). / in ufe among the Latin grammarians to denote the genuine feet by quantity j and the following marks ( u ) to denote the Englifh feet by accents, which anfwer to thofe. Trochee Iambus Spondee Pyrrhic Roman — y Englifli Roman Da&yl — Amphibrach y Anapaeil y Tribrach o Englifh 46 POE Verfifica- The life of tins foot, however, is not neceffarily con- , fined to the beginning of a line. Milton frequently introduces it into other parts of the verfe j of w'hich take the following inftances : That all | was lo^l, | back' to | the thick'Jet flunk— Of EVe | whofe ey'e. j darted contajgious fire. ThH laft line of the following couplet begins with a pyrrkic : She faid, | and mellting as in tears Are lay, In a | foft siljver ftream diflolv’d away. But this foot is introduced likewife with very good ef¬ fect into other parts of the verfe, as Pant on J thy lip' | and to | thy heart | be preft. The phantom flies me | as unjkind as you. Leaps o’er the fence with eafe | into j the fold. And the | flirill' founds | ran echoing through the wood. In this laft line we fee that the firft foot is a pyrrhic, and the fecond a fpondee ; but in the next the two firft feet are fpondees. Hill's peep | o’er hill's | and Alps | on Alps | arife. In the following verfe a trochee is fucceeded by two fpon¬ dees, of which the former is a genuine fpondee by quan¬ tity, and the latter equivalent to a fpondee by accent. S6e the ] bold youth j ftrain up' | the threatening fteep. We ftiall now give fome inftances of lines containing both the pyrrhic and the fpondee, and then proceed to the confideration of the other four feet. That bn | weak wings 1 from far purfues your flight. Thro’ the | fair fcene | roll flow | the ling’ring ftreams, On hbr J white breast' j a fparkling crofs (he wore. Of the four trifyliable feet, the firft, of which we ftiall give inftances in heroic lines, is the daElyl; as Mur'muring, | and with ] him'fledjthe fliades | of night. Hov'ering J on wing | un'der | the cape | of hell. Tim'orous | and flothful yet he pleas’d the ear. Of truth | in word | mightier | than they | in arms. Of the anapafl a Angle inftance ftiall fuftice ; for except by Milton it is not often ufed. The great | hierarjchal ftandard was to move. The amphibrach is employed in the four following verfes, and in the three laft with a very fine effeft. With wheels | yet h6ver|ing o’er the ocean brim. Rous’d from their flumber on | that fie|ry | couch. While the | prbmis'cii'ous crowd ftood yet aloof. Throws his fteep flight J m many j an ai ry whirl. Having thus fufficiently proved that the Englifli heroic Verfe admits of all the feet except the tribrach, it may be proper to add, that from the nature of our accent we have duplicates of thefe feet, viz. fuch as are formed by •quantity, and fuch as are formed by the mere iBus of the voice; an opulence peculiar to our tongue, andw'hich may be the fource of a boundlefs variety* But as feet formed of fvllables which have the accent or iBus on the confon- ant are neceflarily pronounced in lefs time than firailai feet formed by quantity, it may be objeifted, that the 3 TRY. Part III. meafure of a whole line, conftrufted in the former man- Verfifica- ner, muft be ftiorter than that of another line conftruft- , tl0n' ed in the latter j and that the intermixture of verfes of ' fuch different meafures in the fame poem muft have a bad effeft on the melody, as being deftrudive of propor¬ tion. This objeftion would be well-founded, were not the time of the ftiort accented fyllables compenfated by a fmall paufe at the end of each word to which they be¬ long, as is evident in the following verfe: Then rus'Jtling crack'jling craflijing thun'jder down. This line is formed of iambics by accent upon confo- nants, except the laft fyliable j and yet by means of thefe foft paufes or refts, the meafure of the whole is equal to that of the following, which confifts of pure iambics by quantity. O’er heaps | of rulin ftalk’d | the ftate ly hind. Movement, of fo much importance in verfification, re¬ gards the order of lyllables in a toot, meafure their quan¬ tity. The order of fyllables refpe&s their progrefs from ftiort to long or from long to ftiort, as in the Greek and Latin languages j or from ftrong to weak or weak to ftrong, i. e. from accented or unaccented fyllables, as in our tongue. It has been already obferved, that an Eng- lifli heroic verfe may be compofed wholly of iambics j and experience {hows that fuch verfes have a. fine me¬ lody. But as the ftrefs of the voice in repeating verfes of pure iambics, is regularly on every fecond fyllable, fuch uniformity would difguft the ear in any long fuc- ceflion, and therefore fuch changes were fought for as might introduce the pleafure of variety without preju¬ dice to melody j or which might even contribute^ to its improvement. Of this nature was the introduction of the trochee to form the firft foot of an heroic verfe, which experience has fliown us is fo far from fpoiling the melody, that in many cafes it heightens it. This foot, however, cannot well be admitted into any other part of the verfe without prejudice to the melody, be- caufe it interrupts and flops the ufual movement by an¬ other diredlly oppofite. But though it be excluded with regard to pure melody, it may often be admitted into any part of the verfe with advantage to expreflion, as is well known to the readers of Milton. “ The next change admitted for the fake of variety, without prejudice to melody, is the intermixture of pyrrhics and fpondees ; in which two impreflions in the one foot make up for the want of one in the other 5 and two long fyllables compenfate two ftiort, fo as to make the fum*^ of the quantity of the tivo feet equal to two iambics. That this may be done without prejudice to the melody, take the following inftances : On her ; white brSafl | a fparkling crofs ftie wore.— Nor the j deep traft [of hell—fay firft what caufe.— This intermixture may be employed ad libitum, in any part of the line j and foraetimes two fpondees may be placed together in one part of the verfe, to be compen¬ fated by two pyrrhics in another •, of which Mr Sheri¬ dan quotes the following lines as inftances: Stood rul’d i flood vaft | irf m|iiude j confined. She all | night iong ] her amojrbus de.'jcant fung. That the former is a proper example, will not perhaps be queftioned j but the third foot in the latter is certain- Part III. POE Verfifica- ly no pyrrhic. As it is marked here and by him, it is ti°n. a tribrach ) but we appeal to our Englilh readers, if it ought not to have been marked an amphibrach by ac¬ cent, and if the fourth foot be not an iambus. To us the feet of the line appear to be as follow : She all | night long | her am'S|rbus des'jcant fun'g. It is indeed a better example of the proper ufe of the amphibrach than any which he has given, unlefs per¬ haps the two following lines. Up to j the fie|ry conjcave tow'erjing high Throws his ] fteep flight | m man'y | an ai;ry whirl. That in thefe three lines the introduction of the amphi¬ brach does not hurt the melody, will be acknowledged by every perfon who has an ear j and thofe who have not, are not qualified to judge. But we appeal to every man of tafte, if the two amphibrachs fucceeding each other in the laft line do not add much to the expreflion of the verfe. If this be queflioned, we have only to change the movement to the common iambic, and we ftrall difcover how feeble the line will become. Throws his J fteep flight ] in man|y ai|ry whirls. This is Ample defcription, inftead of that magical power of numbers which to the imagination produces the ob- jeCt itfelf, whirling as it were round an axis. Having thus ftiown that the iambus, fpondee, pyr¬ rhic, and amphibrach, by accent, may be ufed in our meafure with great latitude ; and that the trochee may at all times begin the line, and in fome cafes with ad¬ vantage to the melody 5 it now remains only to add, that the daftyl, having the fame movement, may be in¬ troduced in the place of the trochee •, and the anapaeft in the place of the iambus. In proof of this, were not the article fwelling in our hands, we could adduce many inftances which would fliow what an inexhauftible fund of riches, and what an immenfe variety of materials, are prepared for us, to build the lofty rhyme.” But we haften to the next thing to be confidered in the art of- verfifying, which is known by the name ofpaufes. “ Of the poetic paufes there are two forts, the ce- Jural and the final. The cefural divides the verfe into equal or unequal parts •, the final clofes it. In a verfe there may be two or more cefural paufes, but it is evi¬ dent that there can be but one final. As the final paufe concerns the reader more than the writer of verfes, it has been feldom treated of by the critics. Yet as it is this final paufe which in many cafes diftinguifties verfe from profe, it cannot be improper in the prefent article to fliow how it ought to be made. Were it indeed a law of our verfification, that every line fhould terminate with a flop in the fenfe, the boundaries of the meafure would be fixed, and the nature of the final paufe could not be miftaken. But nothing has puzzled the bulk of readers, or divided their opinions, more than the manner in which thofe verfes ought to be recited, where the fenfe does not clofe with the line; and whofe laft words have a neceffary connedlion with thofe that begin the fubfequent verfe. “ Some (fays Mr Sheridan) rvho fee the neceflity of pointing out the metre, pronounce the laft word of each line in fuch a note as ufually accom¬ panies a comma, in marking the fmalleft member of a lentence. Now this is certainly improper, becaufe it makes that appear to be a complete member of a fen- T R y. 47 tence which is an incomplete one j and by disjoining Vcrfifica- the fenfe as well as the words, often confounds the , tl°n’ , meaning. Others again, but thefe fewer in number, and of the more abfurd kind, drop their voice at the end of every line, in the fame note which they ufe in marking a full flop ; to the utter annihilation of the fenfe. Some readers (continues our author) of a more enthufiaftic kind, elevate their voices at the end of all verfes to a higher note than is ever ufed in the flops which divide the meaning. But fuch a continued re¬ petition of the fame high note becomes difgufting by its monotony, and gives an air of chanting to fuch recita¬ tion. To avoid thefe feveral faults, the bulk of readers have chofen what they think a fafer courfe, which is that of running the lines one into another without the lead paufe, where they find none in the fenfe ; but by this mode of recitation they reduce poetry to fomething worfe than profe, to verfe run mad. But it may be afked, if this final paufe muft be mark¬ ed neither by an elevation nor by a depreflion of the voice, how is it to be marked at all ? To which Mr Sheridan replies, by making no change whatever in the voice before it. This will fufticiently diftinguilh it from the other paufes, the comma, femicolon, &c. becaufe fome change of note, by raifing or deprefling the voice, always precedes them, whilft the voice is here only fu- fpended. Now this paufe of fufpenfion is the very thing want¬ ing to preferve the melody at all times, without inter¬ fering with the fenfe. For it perfeftly marks the bound of the metre : and being made only by a fufpenfion, not by a change of note in the voice, it never can affedt the fenfe j becaufe the fentential flops, or thofe which aflfedt the fenfe, being all made with a change of note, where there is no fuch change the fenfe cannot be affedted. Nor is this the only advantage gained to numbers by this flop of fufpenfion. It alio prevents the monotony at the end of lines j which, however pleafing to a rude, is difgufting to a delicate, ear. For as this flop has no peculiar note of its own, but always takes that which belongs to the preceding word, it changes continually with the matter, and is as various as the fenfe. Having faid all that is neceflary with regard to the final, we proceed now to confider the cefural, paufe. To thefe two paufes it will be proper to give the denomi¬ nation of mufical, to diflinguifh them from the comma, femicolon, colon, and full flop, which may be called_/e//- tentialpaufies ; the office of the former being to mark the melody, as that of the latter is to point out the fenfe. The cefural, like the final paufe, fometimes co¬ incides with the fentential j and fometimes takes place where there is no flop in the fenfe. In this laft cafe, it is exadtly of the fame nature, and governed by the fame law's with the paufe of fufpenfion, which v'e have juft deferibed. The cefure, though not eflenlial, is however a great ornament to verfe, as it improves and diverfifies the melody, by a judicious management in varying its fitu- ationj but it difeharges a ftill more important office than this. Were there no cefure, verfe could afpire to no higher ornament than that of fimple melody ; but by means of this paufe there is a new fource of delight opened in poetic numbers, correfpondent in fome fort to harmony in mufic. This takes its rife from that a£l of the mind which compares the relative proportions that T R Y. Part III. the latter part of the verfe leaves the ftrongeft and moft Verfifica- lafting rmpreflion on the ear, where the larger portion tion‘ belongs to the latter part of the line, the impreffion muft v in proportion be greater ; the effeft in found being the fame as that produced by a climax in fenfe, where one part rifes above another. Having Ihown in what manner the cefure improves and diveriifies the melody of verfe, we fuall now treat of its more important office, by which it is the chief fource of harmony in numbers. But, fir ft, it will be neceffary to explain what we mean by the term harmony, as ap¬ plied to verfe. Melody in mufic regards only the effedls produced by fucceffive founds ; and harmony, ftridlly fpeaking, the effedls produced by different co-exifting founds, wffiich are found to be in concord. Harmony, therefore, in this fenfe of the word, can never be applied to poetic numbers, of which there can be only one reciter, and confequently the founds can only be in fucceflion. When therefore we fpeak of the harmony of verfe, we mean nothing more than an effedt produced by an adlion of the mind in comparing the different members of verfe alrea¬ dy conftrufted according to the laws of melody with each other, and perceiving a due and beautiful proportion be¬ tween them. The firft and lowed perception of this kind of har¬ mony arifes from comparing two members of the fame line with each other, divided in the manner to be feen in the three inftances already given •, becaufe the beauty of proportion in the members, according to each of thefe divifions, is founded in nature. But there is a percep¬ tion of harmony in verfification, which arifes from the eomparifon pf two lines, and obferving the relative pro¬ portion of their members •, whether they correfpond ex¬ actly to each other by fimilar divifions, as in the couplets already quoted ■, or whether they are diverfified by ce- fures in different places. As, See the bold youth || ftrain up the threatening fteep, Rufti thro’ the thickets || down the valleys fweep. Where we find the cefure at the end of the fecond foot of the firft line, and in the middle of the third foot of the laft. POE that the members of a verfe thus divided bear to each other, as well as to thofe in the adjoining lines. In or¬ der to fee this matter in a clear light, let us examine what effecft the cefure produces in fingle lines, and afterwards in comparing contiguous lines with each other. With regard to the place of the cefure, Mr Pope and others have exprefsly declared, that no line appeared mu- fical to their ears, where the cefure was not after the fourth, fifth, or fixth fyllable of the verfe. Some have enlarged its empire to the third and feventh fyllables ; whilft others have afferted that it may be admitted into any part of the line. “ There needs but a little diftinguiffiing (fays Mr Sheridan), to reconcile thefe different opinions. If me¬ lody alone is to be confidered, Mr Pope is in the right when he fixes its feat in or as near as may be to the middle of the verfe. To form lines of the firft melody, the cefure muft either be at the end of the fecond or of the third foot, or in the middle of the third between the two. Of this movement take the'following exam¬ ples : 1. Of the cefure at the end of the fecond foot. Our plenteous ftreams || a various race fupply •, The bright-ey’d per'ch || with fins of Tyrian dye j The filver eelj| in ffiining volumes roll’d ; The yellow carp' || in fcales bedrop’d with gold. 2. At the end of the third foot. With tender billet-doux || he lights the pyre, And breathes three amorous sighs || to raife the fire. 3. Between the two, dividing the third foot. The fields are ravilh’d || from the induftrious fwains, From men their cities, || and from gods their fanes. Thefe lines are certainly all of a fine melody, yet they are not quite upon an equality in that refpeft. Thofe which have the cefure in the middle are of the firft or¬ der ; thofe which have it at the end of the fecond foot are next 5 and thofe which have the paufe at the end of the third foot the laft. The reafon of this preference it may not perhaps be difficult to affign. In the pleafure arifing from comparing the proportion which the parts of a whole bear to each other, the more eafily and diftin&ly the mind perceives that proportion, the greater is the pleafure. Now there is nothing which the mind more inftantaneoully and clearly difcerns, than the divifion of a whole into two equal parts, which alone would give a fuperiority to lines of the firft order over thofe of the other two. But this is not the only claim to fuperiority which fuch lines poffefs. The cefure be¬ ing in them always on an unaccented, and the final p3ufe on an accented fyllable, they have a mixture of variety and equality of which neither of the other orders can boaft, as in thefe orders the cefural and final paufes are both on accented fyllables. In the divifion of the other two fpecies, if we refpeft quantity only, the proportion is exactly the fame, the one being as two to three, and the other as three to two but it is the order or movement which here makes the difference. In lines where the cefure bounds the fecond foot, the fmalier portion of the verfe is firft in order, the greater laft •, and this order is reverfed in lines which have the cefure a% the end of the third foot. Now, as Hang o’er their courfers heads |j with eager fpeed, And earth rolls back || beneath the flying fteed. Here the cefure is at the end of the third foot in the former, and of the fecond in the latter line. The perception of this Ipecies of harmony is far fuperior to the former ; becaufe, to the pleafure of comparing the members of the fame line with each other, there is fu- peradded that of comparing the different members of the different lines with each other •, and the harmony is en¬ riched by having four members fif comparifon inftead of two. The pleafure is ftill increafed in comparing a great¬ er number of lines, and obferving the relative propor¬ tion of the couplets to each other in point of fimilarity and diverfity. As thus, Thy forefts, Windfor, || and thy green retreats, At once the monarch’s || and the mufe’s feats, Invite my lays. || Be prefent fylvan maids, Unlock your fprings |] and open all your ffiades. Here we find that the cefure is in the middle of the verfe in each line of the firft couplet, and at the end of Partlll. POE Verfifica- the fecond foot in each line of the laid } which gives a non. fimilarity in each couplet diftin&ly confidered, and a U-!^v diverfity when the one is compared with the other, that has a very pleafing effeft. Nor is the pleafure lefs where we find a diverfity in the lines of each couplet, and a fimilarity in comparing the couplets themfelves. As in thefe, Not half fo fwift || the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce eagle |] cleaves the liquid fky Not half fo fwiftly || the fierce eagle moves, When thro’ the clouds || he drives the trembling doves. There is another mode of dividing lines well fuited to the nature of the couplet, by introducing femipaufes, Which with the cefure divide the line into four portions. By a femipaufe, we mean a fmall reft of the voice, dur¬ ing a portion of time equal to half of that taken up by the cefure j as will be perceived in the following fine couplet : Warms | in the fun || refrefhes | in the breeze, Glows | in the ftars || and bloffoms | in the trees. That the harmony, and of courfe the pleafure, refus¬ ing from poetic numbers, is increafed as well by the fe¬ mipaufe as by the cefure, is obvious to every ear ; be- caufe lines fo conftrufted furnifli a greater number of members for comparifon : but it is of more importance to obferve, that by means of the femipaufes, lines which, feparately coniidered, are not of the fineft harmony, may yet produce it when oppofed to each other, and compared in the couplet. Of the truth of this obferva- tion, the following couplet, efpecially as it fucceeds that immediately quoted, is a ftriking proof: Lives | thro’ all life | extends | thro’ all extent, Spreads | undivided | operates | unfpent. What we have advanced upon this fpecies of verfe, will contribute to folve a poetical problem thrown out by Dryden as a crux to his brethren : it was to account for the peculiar beauty of that celebrated couplet in Sir TRY. 49 John Denham’s Cooper's Hill, where he thus defcribes Verfifica- the Thames: . tlon” . v——Y— Tho’ deep | yet clear || tho’ gentle [ yet not dull. Strong | without rage || without o’erflowing | full. This defcription has great merit independent of the harmony of the numbers ; but the chief beauty of the verfification lies in the happy difpofition of the paufes and femipaufes, fo as to make a fine harmony in each line wrhen its portions are compared, and in the couplet when one line is compared with the other. Having now faid all that is neceffary upon paufes and femipaufes, we have done the utmoft juftice to our fub- ject which the limits aftigned us will permit. Feet and paufes are the conftituent parts of verfe 5 and the proper adjuftment of them depends upon the poet’s knowledge of numbers, accent, quantity, and movement, all of which we have endeavoured briefly to explain. In con¬ formity to the practice of fome critics, we might have treated feparately of rhime and of blank verfe 5 but as the effentials of all heroic verfes are the fame, fuch a divifion of our fubjeft would have thrown no light upon the art of Englifh verfification. It may be juft worth while to obferve, that the paufe at the end of a couplet ought to coincide, if poffible, with a flight paufe in the fenfe, and that there is no neceflity for this coin¬ cidence of paufes at the end of any particular blank verfe. We might likewife compare our heroic line with the ancient hexameter, and endeavour to appretiate their refpedtive merits $ but there is not a reader capable of attending to fuch a comparifon who will not judge for himfelf; and it may perhaps be queftioned, whether there be two who will form precifely the fame judge¬ ment. Mr Sheridan, and all the mere Englifh critics, give a high degree of preference to our heroic, on ac¬ count of the vaft variety of feet which it.admits: whilft the readers of Greek and Latin poetry prefer the hexa¬ meter, on account of its more mufical notes and ma- jeftic length. P O G Pogge POGGE, the Mailed or Armed Gurnard, or II CottusCataphractus. SeeCoxxus,Ichthyology, ?°sgy P. 89. .* a”cs' POGGIUS BracciolinuS, a man of great parts and learning, who contributed much to the revival of knowledge in Europe, was born at Terranuova, in the territories of Florence, in 1380. His firft public em¬ ployment Was that of writer of the apoftolic letters, which he held lo years, and was then made apoftolic fecretary, in which capacity he officiated 40 years, un¬ der feven popes. In 1453) when he was 72 years of age, he accepted the employment of fecretary to the re¬ public of Florence, to which place he removed, and died in 1459. He vifited feveral countries, and fearched many mon&fteries, to recover ancient authors, numbers of which he brought to light : his own works confift of moral pieces, orations, letters, and A Hiftory of Flo¬ rence from 1350 to 1455, which is the moft confider- able of them. POGGY islands, otherwife called Naffau ifltmdsj Vol. XVII. Part I. FOG form part of a chain of iflands which ftretch along the Poggy whole length of Sumatra, in the Eaft Indies, and lie at iflands. the diftance of twenty or thirty leagues from the weft coaft of that ifland. The northern extremity of the northern Poggy lies in latitude 2° 18' S. and the fouthern extremity of the fouthern ifland in latitude 30 16' S» The two are fepa- rated from each other by a very narrow pafiage called the ftrait of See Cockup, in latitude 2° 40' S. and lon¬ gitude about ioo° 38' eaft from Greenwich.—The number of inhabitants in thefe iflands amounts to no more than 1400. Mr Crifp, who ftaid about a month among them, carefully colledted many particulars re- fpe&ing their language, cuftoms, and manners. He ad¬ verts to one circumftance relative to this people, which may be confidered as a curious fa6t in hiftory : “ From the proximity of the iflands (fays he), to Su¬ matra, which, in refpe6t to them, may be confidered as a continent, we ftiould naturally expefl to find their in¬ habitants to be a fet of people originally derived from G the P O G the Sumatra ilock, and look for fome affinity in their language and manners j but, to our no fmall furprife, we find a face of men, whofe language is totally differ¬ ent, and whole cuftoms and habits of life indicate a ve¬ ry diftinft origin, and bear a ftriking reiemblance to thofe of the inhabitants of the late difcovered iflands in the great Pacific ocean.” There is fafe riding for (hips of any fize in the ftraits, which have no other defeft as a harbour than the depth of the water (25 fathoms clofe in fliore). The face of the country, and its vegetable and animal productions, are defqribed in the following words : “ The mountains are covered with trees to their fum- mits, among which are found fpecies of excellent tim¬ ber ; the tree, called by the Malays, bintangoor, and which, in the hither India, is called pohoon, abounds here. Of this tree are made marts, and fome are found of fufficient dimenfions for the lower mart of a firft-rate fhip of war. During my ftay here I did not difeover a fingle plant which we have not on Sumatra, ihe fago tree grows in plenty, and conftitutes the chief article of food to the inhabitants, who do not cultivate rice ; the cocoa-nut tree and the bamboo, two moft ufeful plants, are found here in great plentyThey have a variety of fruits, common in thefe climates, fuch as mangofteens, pine-apples, plantains, buah, chupah, &c. The woods, in their prefent ftate, are impervious to man ; the fpecies of wild animals which inhabit them are but few ; the large red deer, fome hogs, and feveral kinds of monkeys are to be found here, but neither buf¬ faloes, nor goats •, nor are thefe forefts infefted, like thofe of Sumatra, with tigers or any other heart of prey. Of domeftic poultry, there is only the common fowl, which probably has "been originally brought from Suma¬ tra •, but pork and fiffi conftitute the favourite animal food of the natives. Firtt are found here in confiderable plenty, and very good.” The ftature of the inhabitants of thefe lilands feldom exceeds five feet and a half ^ their colour is like that of the Malays •, they praClife tattooing, and file their teeth to a point *, and though of a mild difpofition, they have fome of the filthy cuftoms of favages, particularly that of picking vermin from their heads and eating them. Their mode of tattooing, as well as the treatment of their dead, is reprefented to be very fimilar to the prac¬ tices of the Otaheitans. “ The religion of this people, (fays Mr Crifp), if it can be faid that they have any, may truly be called the religion of nature. A belief of the exiftence of fome powers more than human cannot fail to be excited among the moft uncultivated of mankind, from the obfervations of various ftriking natural phenomena, fuch as the diur¬ nal revolution of the fun and moon j thunder and light¬ ning •, earthquakes, &c. &c. : nor will there ever be wanting among them fome, of fuperior talents and cun¬ ning, who will acquire an influence over weak minds, by affuming to themfelves an intereft with, or a power of controuling thofe fuper-human agents •, and fuch no¬ tions conftitute the religion of the inhabitants of the Poo-rys. Sometimes a fowl, and fometimes a hog, is facrificed to avert ficknefs, to appeafe the wrath of the offended power, or to render it propitious to fome pro- jefted enterprife •, and Mr Beft was informed that omens of o-ood or ill fortune were drawn from certain appear- P O I ances in the entrails of the viftim. But they have no ^oggy form of religious worfhip, nor do they appear to have hhmls the moft diftant idea of, a future ftate of rewards and pu- p0|Jlt nifhments. They do not pra&ife circumcifion.”—— ' - » AJiatic Rcfearches. POGO, is the name by which the inhabitants of the Philippine iflands diftinguifti their quail, which, though fmaller than ours, is in every other refpe£t very like it. POICTIERS, an ancient, large, and confiderable town of France, capital of Poi£tou. It was a biftiop’s fee, and contained four abbeys, a mint, an univerfity fa¬ mous for law, 22 parifties, 9 convents for men, and 12 nunneries. There are here feveral Romaji antiquities, and particularly an amphitheatre, but partly demoliflied, and hid by the houfes. There is alfo a triumphal arch, which ferves as a gate to the great ftreet. It is not peopled in proportion to its extent. Near this place Edward the Black Prince gained a decifive viftory over the French, taking King John and his fon Philip pri- foners, in 1356, whom he afterwards brought over into England. See France, N° 71, &c.—It is feated on a hill on the river Glain, 52 miles fouth-weft of Tours, and 120 north by eaft of Bourdeaux. E. Long. o. 25. N. Lat. 46. 35. PQICTOU, a province of France, bounded on the north by Bretagne, Anjou, and part of Touraine : on the eaft by Touraine, Berry, and Manche •, on the fouth by Angoumois, Saintogne, and the territory of Aunis y and on the weft by the fea of Gafcony. It is divided into the Upper and LowTer \ and is fertile in corn and wine, and feeds a great number of cattle, particularly mules. It was in poffeffion of the kings of England for a confiderable time, till it was loft by the unfortunate Henry VI. Poi6tiers is the capital town. Colic ofPoiCTOU. See MEDICINE, N° 303. POINCIANA, Barbadoes Flower-fence j a genus of plants belonging to the decandria clafs; and in the natural method ranking under the 33d order, Lomentacecc. See Botany Index.—Of this genus there is only one fpecies, the pulcherrima, which is a native of both Indies, and grows to the height of 10 or 12 feet, producing flowers of a very agreeable odour. In Barbadoes it is planted in hedges to divide the lands, whence it has the name of Jlower-fcnce. In the Weft Indies, its leaves are made ufe of as a purgative inftead of fenna j and in Jamaica it is called Jenna. POINT, a term ufed in various arts. Point, in Grammar, a charadler ufed to mark the di- vifions of difeourfe See Comma, Colon, &c. A point proper is what we otherwife call a full fop or period. See Punctuation. Point, in Geometry, according to Euclid, is that which has neither parts nor magnitude. Point, in Mufc, a mark or note anciently ufed to diftinguifti the tones or founds : hence we ftill call it Jmple counter-point, when a note of the lower part an- fwers exa£tly to that of an upper ; and figurative coun¬ ter-point, when any note is {yncopated, and one of the parts makes feveral notes or inflexions of the voice, while the other holds on one. We ftill ufe a point, to raife the value of a note, and prolong its time by one half, e. g. a point added to a femibreve inftead of two minims, makes it equal to three $ and fo of the other notes. See the article Time. Point, [ 5° 1 P O I t 5 Point Point, in AJlronomy, a term applied to certain points il or places marked in the heavens, and diiiinguifned by Polnts' , proper epithets. # Xhe four grand points or divifions of the horizon, viz. the eaft, weif, north, and fouth, ate called the car¬ dinal points. . . The zenith and nadir are the vertical points 5 the^ points wherein the orbits of the planets cut the plane of the ecliptic are called the nodes ; the points wherein the equator and ecliptic interfeft are called the equinoEhal points : particularly, that whence the fun alcends towards the north pole, is called the vernal point's and that by which he defeends to the fouth pole, the autumnal point. The points of the ecliptic, where the fun’s afeent above the equator, and defeent below it, terminate, are called the foljlitial points ; particularly the former of them, the eftivaf or fummer point; the latter, the brumal or win¬ ter point. Point is alfo ufed for a cape or headland jutting out into the fea : thus feamen fay, two points of land are in one another, when they are fo in a right line, again!! each other, as that the innermolf is hindered from being feen by the outermoft. Point, in PerfpeBive, is ufed for various poles or places, with regard to the perfpeftive plane. See PER¬ SPECTIVE. Point is alfo an iron or fteel inftrument, ufed with fome variety in feveral arts. Engravers, etchers, cut¬ ters in wood, &c. ufe points to trace their defigns on the copper, wood, done, &c. See the articles Engra¬ ving, &c. Point, in the Manufatfories, is a general term, ufed for all kinds of laces wrought with the needle ; fuch are the point de Venice, point de France, point de Genoa, &c. which are diftinguiflred by the particular economy and arrangement of their points.—Point is fometimes ufed for lace woven with bobbins 5 as Englilh point, point de Malines, point d’Havre, &c. Point, in Poetry, denotes a lively brilk turn or con¬ ceit, ufually found or expe&ed at the clofe of an epi¬ gram. See Poetry, N0 169. POINT-Blanh, in Gunnery, denotes the (hot of a gun levelled horizontally, without either mounting or fink¬ ing the muzzle of the piece.—In Ihooting point-blank, the (hot or bullet is fuppofed to go direflly forward in a ftraight line to the mark ; and not to move in a curve, as bombs and highly elevated random-ftiots do.—When a piece Hands upon a level plane, and is laid level, the diftance between the piece and the point where the (hot touches the ground firft, is called the point-blank range of that piece 5 but as the fame piece ranges more or lefs, according to a greater or lefs charge, the point-blank range is taken from that of a piece loaded with fuch a charge as is ufed commonly in adlion. It is therefore neceffary that thefe ranges of all pieces fhould be known, fince the gunner judges from thence what elevation he is to give to his piece when he is either farther from or nearer to the objef! to be fired at; and this he can do pretty nearly by fight, after confiderable praftice. POINTING, in Grammar, the art of dividing a dif- courfe by points, into periods and members of periods, in order to fhow the proper paufes to be made in read¬ ing, and to faciliate the pronunciation and underftand- ing thereof. See the article Punctuation. POINTS, in Heraldry, are the feveral different parts 1 ] P o 1 of an efcutcheon, denoting the local politions of any fi- Poi'1*' gure. See Heraldry. , Pu‘|01 Points, in Ele&ricity, are thofe acute terminations of bodies which facilitate the paffage of the ele&ricai fluid from or to fuch bodies. See Electricity. Points, or Vowel Points, in the Hebrew language. See Philology, Se£l. j. N° 31, &c. POISON, is any fubilance which proves deftruclive to the life of animals in a fmall quantity, either taken by the mouth, mixed with the blood, or applied to the. nerves. See MEDICINE, N° 261, 269, 303, 322, 408, &c. &c. Of poifons there are many different kinds, which are exceedinglv various in their operations. The mineral poifons, as arfenic and c(» rofive mercury, feem to attack the folid parts of the ftomach, and to produce dea:h by eroding its fubftance : the antimonials feem rather to at- . tack the nerves, and to kill by throwing the whole fy- ftem into convulfions 5 and in this manner alfo moft of the vegetable poifons feem to operate. All of thefe, however, feem to be inferior in ftrength to the poifons of fome of the more deadly kinds of ferpents, which ope¬ rate fo fuddenly that the animal bit by them will be dead before another that had fwallowed arfenic would be affected. Much has been written concerning a poifon made ufe of by the African negroes, by the Americans, and by the Eaft Indians. To this very ftrange effedls have been aferibed. It has been faid, that by this poifon, a man might be killed at any certain time ; as, for in- flance, after the interval of a day, a week, a month, a year, or even feveral years. Thefe wonderful effe61s, however, do not feem worthy of credit ; as the Abbe Fontana has given a particular account of an American poifon called ticunas, which in all probability is the fame with that ufed in Africa and the Eaft Indies; and from his account it is extremely improbable that any fuch ef- fe£!s could be produced with certainty. With this poifon the Abbe was furnifhed by Dr He- berden. It was clofed and fealed up in an earthen pot inclofed in a tin-cafe. Within the tin-cafe was a note containing the following words: “ Indian poifon,brought from the banks of the river of the Amazons by Don Pedro Maldonado. It is one of the forts mentioned in the Philofophical Tranfa&ions, vol. xlvii. N° 12.” In the volume of the Philofophical Tranfaftions here quoted, mention is made of two poifons little different in their aflivity 5 the one called the poifon of lamas, and the other of ticunas. The poifon in the earthen vef- fel ufed by the Abbe Fontana was that of the ticunas j he was alfo furnifhed with a number of American ar¬ rows dipped in poifon, but whether that of the lamas or ticunas he could not tell. Our author begins his account of the nature of this . poifon with dete&ing fome of the millakes which had been propagated concerning it.—It had been afferted, that the ticunas poifon proves noxious by the mere ef¬ fluvia, but much more by the fleam which exhales from it in boiling or burning: that, among the Indians, it is prepared only by women condemned to die 5 and that the mark of its being fufficiently prepared, is when the ! attendant is killed by its fleam. All thefe affertions are by the Abbe refuted in the cleareft manner. He ex- pofed a young pigeon to the fmell of the poifon when the veffel was opened, to the fteau* of it when boiling, G 2 aod P O I [ and to the vapour of it when burning to the fides of the veffel, without the animal’s being the leaf! injured 5 on which, concluding that the vapours of this poifon were not to be dreaded, he expofed himfelf to them without any fear. This poifon diffolves very readily even in cold water, and likewife in the vegetable and mineral acids. With oil of vitroil it becomes as black as ink, but not with the reft of the acids. In oil of vitriol it alfo diffolves more ilowly than in any of the reft. It does not effervefce with acids or alkalies $ neither does it alter milk, nor tinge it, except with the natural colour of the poifon 5 nor does it tinge the vegetable juices either red or green. When examined by the microfcope, there is no appear¬ ance of regularity or cryftallization 5 but it for the moft part appears made up of very fmall, irregular, roundifh bodies, like vegetable juices. It dries without making any noife, and has an extremely bitter tafte when put upon the tongue. The ticunas poifon is harmlefs when put into the eyes; nor is it fatal when taken by the mouth, unlefsthe quan¬ tity is confiderable. Six grains of the folid poifon, dif- folved in water, killed a young pigeon which drank it in lefs than 20 minutes. Five grains killed a fmail Gui¬ nea-pig in 25 minutes. Eight grains killed a rabbit in an hour and eight minutes, &c. In thofe experiments it wTas obferved, that much lefs poifon wras required to kill an animal whole ftomach was empty than one that had a full ftomach. Three rabbits and two pigeons were killed in lefs than 35 minutes, by taking a dofe of three grains each on an empty ftomach ; but when the expe¬ riment w'as repeated on live animals with full ftomachs, only one of them died. The moft fatal operation of this poifon is when mixed with the blood. The fmalleft quantity, injefted into the jugular vein, killed the animal as if by a ftroke of light¬ ning. When applied to wounds in fuch a manner that the flowing of the blood could not Avafh it away, the ani¬ mal fell into convulfions and a train of fatal nervous fymptoms, which put an end to its life in a few minutes. Yet, notwithftanding thefe feeming affeftions of the nerves, the poifon proved harrhlefs when applied to the naked nerves themfelves, or even to the medullary fub- ftance of them flit open. The ftrength of this poifon feems to be diminifhed, and even detlroyed, by mineral acids, but not at all by alkalies or ardent fpirits; but if the frefh poifon was ap¬ plied to a wound, the application of mineral acids im¬ mediately after could not remove the pernicious effeiffs. 52 ] P o I So far, indeed, was this from being the cafe, that the ap- Poifom.. plication of nitrous acid to the wounded mufcle of a pigeon, killed the animal in a fhort time without any poifon at all.—The effefts of the arrows were equally fatal with thofe of the poifon itfelf (a). I he poifon of the viper is analogous in its effetfts to that of ticunas, but inferior in ftrength ; the' lat¬ ter killing more inflantaneoufly when injected into a vein than even the poifon of the moft venomous rattle- fnake. The Abbe has, however, obferved a difference in the a&ion of the two poifons upon blood taken out of the body. He cut off the head of a pigeon, and received its blood into warm conical glaffes, to the amount of about 80 drops into each. Into the blood contained in one porringer, he put four drops of water; and into the other four drops of the poifon diffolved in water as ufual. The event of this experiment was, that the blood, with which the water only Avas mixed, coagulated in a fhort time; but that in which the poifon was mixed did not coagulate at all. The poifon of the viper alfo hinders the blood from coagulating, but gives it a much blacker tinge than the poifon of the ticunas. The poifon of the viper alfo proves certainly fatal when injedled into the veins, even in very fmall quantity ; but it produces a kind of grumous coagulation and blacknefs in the blood when drawTn from a vein, though it prevents the proper coagulation of that fluid, and its feparation into craffa- mentum and ferum as ufual. In the Philofophical Tranfaftions, N° 335. we have a number of experiments which fhow the effe apology for laying the whole detail before our readers without [ 56 ] O I f 57 1 POI The experiments were made by by the nitrate of filver, fhewing that it contained muri¬ atic acid. Poifon. without abridgement. -pr g0[|0C^ 0f Liverpool, and the account ®f them is given by the author in a letter to the editor of the Edin¬ burgh Med. and Surg. Journal, v. 14. “ In compliance with your requeft, I fend you an ac¬ count of fome of the experiments which I made to il- luftrate the queftion, which was propofed to me at the late memorable trial at Lancafter, whether it was pof- fible that a mineral poifon might produce a fudden and violent death, and yet be afterwards incapable of detec¬ tion in the contents of the ftomach ? You have already feen, in the pamphlet that was publilhed by Drs Gerard and Rutter, Mr Hay, and myfelf, the effeft which was produced upon dogs by corrofive fublimate. We there relate the refult of two experiments, in which it was given to dogs in folution \ vomiting, purging, and the fymptoms of violent pain enfued, which after fome hours were terminated by death. The contents of the ftomach, it is there ftated, were analyfed by me, but none •f the fublimate could be detefted. In the firft experi¬ ment, ingrains of the fait were given, and in the fecond 4 grains j this latter being the larger quantity, and alfo the one in which the procefs was conducted with the moft accuracy, I fliall confine myfelf to relate the cir- cumftances of this alone. “ When the ftomach of the dog was opened, a fmall quantity of water was added to wafti out its contents more completely, making the whole fnmewhat lefs than •ne ounce. It was deeply tinged with blood, and I let it remain at reft for 30 hours, in order that the colour¬ ing matter might fubfide from it. It had then acquired a very foetid fmell, and not being much clearer than at firft, I added to it about an equal quantity of water, and pafled it, firft through a linen ftrain, and afterwards through a paper filter. It was now nearly tranfparent, but flightly tinged with blood. “ A folution of corrofive fublimate was prepared, containing of its weight of the fait. Into a quan¬ tity of this folution the recently prepared muriate of tin was dropped, which produced an immediate and very copious precipitation. Cauftic potath alfo threw down a precipitate, although in fmall quantity. The fame fcefts were then added to the fluid taken from the fto- ' mach, but no effect was produced by the muriate of tin for fome hours, when at length it became, in fome de¬ gree, opake. The effeft here, both as to time and the nature of the appearance, was quite different from the precipitate in the folution of corrofive fublimate, and I oonfidered it as depending upon the a6Hon of the mu¬ riate of tin upon the mucus. In proof of this, when the ftomach fluid had potath added to it, inftead of having a precipitate thrown down, it was rendered more tranf¬ parent than before the experiment. The folution of Corrofive fublimate was fubje&ed to the a6Hon of gal- vanifm, by having a piece of gold placed in it, clafped by zinc wire } in an hour the gold was obvioufly whi¬ tened by the precipitation of the mercury upon it. The fluid taken from the ftomach was fubmitted to the fame procefs for three hours, but no effefl was produced (c). The fluid from the ftomach did not exhibit either acid or alkaline properties; it was copioufly precipitated Vol. XVII. Part I. Poifon. “ On the following day, a flight brown precipitate had fubfided from the ftomach fluid, and the whole had become very opake. The precipitate was diffolved by potafli, at the fame time that the fluid was rendered more tranfparent. It was become extremely putrid. The putridity increafed : and, in two days more, a fcum was formed on the furface, and the fides of the glafs were alfo encrufted with a gray matter. The experiments were performed between the lyth and 22d of Auguft. “ The following experiments were then made on the corrofive fublimate, with every poflible attention to accu¬ racy. Two grains of the fait were diffolved in 600 grains of diftilled water. This I call folution N° 1. Ten grains of N° 1. were then added to 90 grains of water, forming folution N° 2. in which the fluid would con- tain Gf its weight of the fublimate. Into 10 drops of N° 2* two drops of the muriate of tin were add¬ ed, and caufed a very obvious precipitate. Te? grains of N° 2. were added to 90 grains of diftilled water, ma¬ king the fluid to contain -joo^o-oo- of its weight of the fait. Into 10 drops of this folution, two drops of the muriate of tin were added, and an immediate gray cloud was perceptible in the fluid, although no precipitate was thrown down. The galvanic procefs was repeated with the folution N° 3.; it remained fix hours, and I thought I perceived a whitenefs on one part of the gold j but it was not very diftimftly vifible. “ From thefe experiments, we may draw the follow¬ ing conclufions :— “ 1. The fluid taken from the dog’s ftomach contain¬ ed muriatic acid, probably in the form of common fait, and animal matter, probably mucus, in confiderable quantity. “ 2. The lefts that were employed to difcover the corrofive fublimate, were capable of dete&ing it in a fluid, when it compofed only -j-oo£o^<5 °f *ts weight. “ 3. Thefe lefts did not deteti any corrofive fublimate in the fluid taken from the dog’s ftomach j it may there¬ fore be concluded, “ 4. That an animal may be fuddenly killed by re¬ ceiving a metallic poifon into the ftomach, and yet that the niceft lefts may not be able to deleft any por¬ tion of the poifon after death, in the contents of the ftomach. “ This conclufion appears incontrovertible ; and though fome analogous fafts had occafionally been ne- ticed *, it is fo different from the generally received * Hofftna- opinion upon the fubjeft, that I think it muft have con- nns de Ve- fiderable influence on all future judicial proceedings, in^7'* conferred that honour on the duke of Bohemia, of duke." This was extremely mortifying to Uladiflaus, but it was abforbed in confiderations of the utmoft confequence to himfelf and his dominions. Ruffia took the opportunity of the late civil difturbances to throw off the yoke j and this revolt drewT after it the revolt of Pruflia, Pomerania, and other provinces. The fmaller provinces, however, were foon reduced ; but the duke had no fooner returned to Poland, than thev again rebelled, and hid their fami¬ lies in impenetrable forefts. Uladiflaus marched againft them with a confiderable army •, but was entirely defeat¬ ed, and obliged to return back with difgrace. Next year, however, he had better fortune ; and, having led againft them a. more numerous army than before, they were content to fubmit and deliver up the ringleaders of the revolt to be punifhed as the duke thought proper. No fooner were the Pomeranian* reduced, than civil diffenfions took place. Sbigneus, the fon of Uladiflaus by a concubine, was placed at the head of an army by the difcontented nobility, in order to fubvert his father’s government, and difpute the title of Boleflaus, the legi¬ timate fon of Uladiflaus, to the fucceflion. The war was terminated by the defeat and captivity of Sbigneus; who was at firft confined, but afterwards releafed on condition that he fhould join his father in puniftiing the palatine of Cracow. But before this could be done, the palatine found means to effefl a reconciliation with the duke j with which the young princes being difpleafed, a war took place between them and their father. The end of all was, that the palatine of Cracow was banifhed, and the princes fubmitted ; after which, Uladiflaus, having chaftifed the Pruftians and Pomeranians who had again revolted, died in the year 1103, the 59th of his age. Boleflaas Uladiflaus was fuceeeded by his fon Boleflaus III. III. divides who divided his dominions equally betwixt his brother BiSns°be* ^’Sneus and himfelf. The former beingdiffatisfied with twixt Sbig- ftiare, raifed cabals againft; his brother. A civil war neus his was f°r fome time prevented by the good offices of the illegitimate primate : but at lafl Sbigneus, having privately ftirred L.ViOUf ^ UP t^ie Ghermans, Saxons, and Moravians, againft his brother, made fuch formidable preparations as threatened the conqueft of all Poland. Boleflaus, being unprovided with forces to oppofe fuch a formidable power, had re- courfe to the Ruffians and Hungarians ; who readily em¬ braced his caufe, in expeftation of turning it to their own advantage. The event was, that Sbigneus was entirely defeated ; and might eafily have been obliged to furren- Generofity der himfelf at difcretion, had not Boleflaus generoufly of Boleflaus, left him in quiet poffeffion of the duchy of Mazovia, in tude^f™11" orc^er to himfelf fuitably to the dignity of his SWgneus, birth. This kindnefs the ungrateful Sbigneus repaid by entering into another confpiracy ; but the plot being dif- covered, he was feized, banifhed, and declared a traitor if ever he fet foot again in Poland. Even this feverity did not produce the defired effeft : Sbigneus perfuaded the Pomeranians to arm in his behalf; but he was de¬ feated, taken p ifoner, and again banifhed. Almoft all the nobility folicited the king to put filch an ungrateful traitor to death ; however, that generous prince could Vol. XVII. Part I. himfelf. 4i A civil war. 4a Poland. 43 ■ who is at 65 ] P O L not think of polluting his hands with the death of his brother, notwithftanding all he had yet done. Nay, he even took him back to Poland, and appointed him a maintenance fuitable to his rank : but he foon had rea- fon to repent of his kindnefs ; for his unnatural brother m a fhort time began to raife frefh difturbances, in con-, fequence of which he foon met with the death which he laft put to deferved. death. Boleflaus was fcarcely freed from the intrigues of his brother, when he found himfelf in greater danger than ^ ever from the ambition of the emperor Henry IV. The War with emperor had attacked the king of Hungary, with whom the empe- Boleflaus was in clofe alliance, and from whom he had ^ ^enr-v received affiftance when in great diltrefs himfelf. The1 king of Poland determined to affift his friend ; and there¬ fore made a powerful diverfion in Bohemia, where he re¬ peatedly defeated the Imperialifts : upon which, the em¬ peror colleffting all his forces, ravaged Silefia, and even entered Poland, where he laid fiege to the ftrong town of Lubufz ; but was at laft obliged to abandon the en- terprife, after having fuftained much lofs. However, Henry was not difcouraged, but penetrated ftill farther into Poland, and was laying wafte all before him, when the fuperior fkill of Boleflaus compelled him to retire, after having almoft deftroyed his army with fatigue and famine, without once coming to a&ion. Enraged at this difappointment, Henry laid fiege to Glogaw, in hopes of drawing the Poles to an engagement before he Ihould be obliged to evacuate the country. The fortifications of the place were weak ; but the fpirit of the inhabitants fupplied their deficiencies, and they gave the Imperialifts a moft unexpected and vigorous reception. At laft, how¬ ever, they were on the point of furrendering to fuperior force; and actually agreed to give up the place, provi¬ ded they did not receive any fuccours during that time, Boleflaus determined, however, not to let fuch a brave garrifon fall a facrifice to their loyalty ; and therefore prevailed on the befieged to break the capitulation ra¬ ther than furrender when they were on the point of be¬ ing delivered. All this was tranfaCIed with the utmofl: fecrecy ; fo that the emperor advanced, without thoughts of meeting with any refiftance, to take poffeffion of the city ; but, being received by a furious difcharge of ar¬ rows and javelins, he was fo incenfed, that he refolved to ftorm the place, and give no quarter. On the ap¬ proach of the army, the Imperialifts were aftoniftied to fee not only the breaches filled up, but new walls, fe- cured by a wet ditch, reared behind the old, and ereft- ed during the fufpenfion of hoftilities by the induftry of the befieged. The attack, however, went on ; but the 4- inhabitants, animated by defpair, defended themfelves Who is with incredible valour, and at lafl; obliged the Imperia-worfteci lifts to break up the fiege with precipitation. Next day Boleflaus arrived, and purfued the emperor with fuch vigour, that he obliged him to fly with difgrace into his own country. This foon brought on a peace, which was confirmed by a marriage between Boleflaus and the em¬ peror’s After. Hitherto the glory of Boleflaus had equalled, or even Boleflaus eclipfed, that of his namefake and predeceffor Boleflaus !jrous!l5;. the Great; but about the year 1135 he was brought into difficulties and difgrace by his own credulity. He his own " was impofed upon by an artful ftory patched up by a credulity certain Hungarian ; who infinuated himfelf fo far intoaiul g^*- his affe&ions, that he gave him the government of Wi-r