THE LIVES AND CHARACTERS Of the Ancient Grecian Poets. Dedicated to His HIGHNESS THE DUKE of GLOUCESTER,  
By BASIL KENNET, M.A. of C.C.C. Oxon.  
At simul Heroum laudes, & facta Parentum  
Jam legere, & quae sit poteris cognoscere virtus:  
Alter erit tum Tiphys, & altera quae vehat Argo  
Delectos heroas: erunt etiam altera bella,  
Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles.  Virgil. Eclog. 4. 
LONDON: Printed for ABEL SWALL, at the Unicorn at the West-End of St. Paul's-Church-Yard. 1697.   


QUAE MOX IMITERE LEGAS.  J. Savage skull.  
To His Highness the Duke of GLOUCESTER.  
SIR,  
YOur HIGHNESS can never rule so equally in the Empire of Learning, but that the Poets will pretend to a particular Interest in Your Protection, as well as in Your Fame: And the Grecian Masters, who are the first of the Tribe, will reckon themselves injured, unless they have the Honour of paying their Duties before the rest.  
In the Late Degeneracy of Ancient Valour, they have had the Hard Fortune to pass for mere Romancers; because their Worthies and their Adventures appear beyond our present Notions of Human Conduct and Force: But from Your Highness' Actions, they expect a full recovery of Faith and of Esteem: They are impatient for the Time, when they may renew their old Title to Prophecy; and when the Fame of Your Highness' Achievements shall justify the Miracles of their Verse. For Prince's SIR, have this Advantage above us the Vulgar Herd of Scholars; that we read the Story of Heroic Exploits, barely to understand and to admire them; THEY to imitate, and to exceed them.  
And whilst thus, with a hasty kind of Loyalty, the Good Old Songsters are coming to wait on Your HIGHNESS, 'tis no wonder if they make use of any poor Guide to Conduct them: never fearing that with Your Highness' Justice, the Worth of the Addressers can suffer by the meanness of the Introducer;  
SIR, Your Highness' Most Humble and most Obedient Servant, BASIL KENNET.   

THE PREFACE.  
THE Pleasures and the Distastes which we receive from former Years and Men, are chief owing to ourselves: Their favours affect us not, unless we apply them; and their Injuries have no force; but what they borrow from our Folly. The Good People of Antiquity never benefit us, till we work ourselves with pains into their Acquaintance: and the Bad never corrupt us, but when we court their Company. 'Tis on this account that, while we neglect the Old Examples of Ignorance or Vice, the Patterns of Wit and Virtue engage our Curiosity as well as our Esteem. And among these, we entertain a particular Affection for the celebrated AUTHORS of Ancient Times: We are desirous of understanding their Actions and Fortunes as well as their Writings, and are the more eager to inquire into Their private Story, the more agreeably they divert us with the Adventures of other Men.  
Yet Envy and Ingratitude have done their best to deprive us of this Satisfaction. Many of the Great Masters survive only in the Front of their Labours; and we read their whole History in a Line of the Title-page. Fame, with the ordinary Spirit of Informers, discovers Ill-Nature in her very Praise; and under the pretence of giving a Loud Sound to their Memory, excuses Herself from giving a Distinct one. Now the POETS have a deeper share in this Misfortune than the Professors of other Arts and Studies. Philosophers commonly leave numerous Sects behind them, which endeavour to enlarge their own Credit by swelling the Legends of their Founders. Orators, being allowed a Hand in the Business of State, pass down in the Current of Common History: And the Historians themselves, while they Illustrate the Times they live in, entwist their private Affairs with the Memorials of Public Actions: and, borrowing the Vanity of an Art to which they lend Materials, never fail to draw their own Picture in their Noblest Work. But the Poet by the Rules of his Order, forswears Business as hearty as Riches: He is to cover himself from the World with Shades and Privacy; and even the noise of his own Praises must not be so great as to break the Cloud which inveils his Person. If he chance to Address his Verses to the Honour of the present Age, than perhaps Posterity may know the City, and the Times he lived in: But his chief Affairs lie amongst the the Old Race of Mortals; He is to revive Heroes that have died in their very Brass: And tho' he may possibly rescue Them from the Gulf of Time, he is Himself commonly swallowed in the Attempt.  
If the MUSES have been civilly treated in any Chronicle, it must be in that of the Grecian Affairs. As they are reported to have been born in that Country, so they may with more justice be said to have given Birth to it. The Language, the Arts, the Civility, the Laws, the Religion, and the very Triumphs of Greece, all sprung from their Fountain, and were all nourished by their Streams. Nor indeed was their Service ill repaid, while the good Effects of it continued. In the flourishing height of Wisdom and of Empire, the Poets were ranked amongst the Guardians of the State; and a Victory at one of their Contentions in the Theatre obtained as fair a place in the Public Registers, as the Actions of a successful General. But when by a muival failure, Greatness began to languish for want of the incitement of Wit, and Wit to sink because unsupported by Greatness: the Poetic Tribe, like a decayed Family, not only suffered in their own Credits, but were unable to secure the Honours and the Achievements of their Predecessors. The Old Heroes in the Art of Verse had their Trophies scattered about in the wide Field of History; but their weak Posterity could not gather them into a Pile, and so they have rolled down in the same Confusion to our Times.  
To pick up some parts of these divided Honours, and to lay the Sacred Fragments together, is the Design of this small Attempt. The Cementing, the Polishing, the giving the nice touches of Symmetry and Life, should be the Care of Noble Artists.  
It was thought convenient, not to stop at those admired Masters whose Labours survive as well as their Memory; but to take in the most celebrated of the other Train, who live on the Stock of their Ancient Glory; and have made That their passport through so many Ages, since their truest Credentials have been lost upon the Way.  
Some Endeavours after their proper Characters have been added in both Divisions: Because their Wit makes the best part of their Story; and because to give the Life of an Author without speaking of his Works, is no wiser Conduct, than to write the Memoires of a Prince or Hero, and to omit the Relation of his Exploits.   


A TABLE of the POETS in the First Part.  

HOMER. Pag. 1  
HESIOD. 44  
ANACREON. 59  
PINDAR. 65  
AESCHYLUS. 87  
SOPHOCLES. 97  
EURIPIDES. 106  
ARISTOPHANES. 124  
THEOCRITUS. 142  
LYCOPHRON. 152  
CALLIMACHUS. 156  
APOLLONIUS. 165  
ARATUS. 169  
NICANDER. 175  
DIONYSIUS. 177  
OPPIAN. 182    

A TABLE of the POETS in the Second Part.  

LINUS. Pag. 1  
ORPHEUS. 4  
MUSAEUS. 9  
TYRTAEUS. 11  
ARCHILOCHUS. 14  
STESICHORUS. Pag. 18  
MIMNERMUS. 25  
SAPPH. 28  
ALCAEUS. 35  
EPIMENIDES. Pag 39  
SIMONIDES. 43  
THEOGNIS and PHOCYLIDES. 49  
EMPEDOCLES. 51  
EPICHARMUS. 56  
CHOERILUS. 58  
CRATINUS and EUPOLIS. 62  
ANTIMACHUS. 65  
MENANDER. 68  
PHILEMON. 74  
BION and MOSCHUS. 77     

ERRATA. Part I.  
PAge I. Line 3. for a Comma put a Colon: p. 12. l. 6 for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. p. 43. l. 24. for Skin r. Phiz. p. 56. l. 15. for colas. r. Colles. p. 81. l. 26. for prize r. Prize. p. 90. l. 26. for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. p. 132. l. 20. for First r. Fifth. p. 147. l. 23. for by r. of. p. 152. l. 12. for Stories r. Stores. p. 174. l. 5. for Situation r. Citation. p. 187. l. 28. for yields r. breeds. Part II. Pag. 25. l. 2. for Smurna r. Smyrna. p. 48. l. 9 for Pluto r. Plato. p. 67. l. 5. for Meleagres r. Meliagri. p. 80. l. 9 for the r. to.  
Many lesser Faults (particularly in the Greek) have been occasioned by the Author's Absence.   

OF THE Lives and Characters Of the Ancient GRECIAN POETS.  
PART I.  

The Life of HOMER.  
THE Age and Country of Homer have exercised the Critics, more than all his Works, Historians are so much in the dark about these Points; that, if they were to be determined by a Majority, 'twould be hard to find two on the same side. In the mean time the Men of his own Profession have made their Advantage of the uncertain Dispute; have been willing their Great Master should be acknowledged of Divine Original, as well as their Art: And advised the contending Cities to resign the Prize to Heaven. Without doubt the Honour of Poesy is much advanced by the Noble Controversy about its Author. And while we own Homer to be Him, 
— Cujus de gurgite sacro  
Combibit arcanos vatum omnu turba furores.  
From whose Immortal Stream the Tuneful Train  
Derive their Transports and their Secret Vein:  We have the greater Veneration for him, the less we are acquainted with his Source. 
As when Old Nilus, who with bounteous Flows,  
Waters an hundred Nations as He goes;  
Scattering Rich Harvests: keep's his Sacred Head  
Among the Clouds still undiscovered 
* Dr. Bathurst on Mr. Selden.    
If we take the pains to examine all the Ancient and Modern Calculations, and compare them with one another: we find the greater part of the Votes declaring Smyrna the place of his Birth; and fixing the time of it, between One and Two hundred Years before the Building of Rome. But then if we inquire farther into the Particulars; the Prospect grows infinitely Darker: and he has scarce more Fables in his Poetry, than Authors have confusedly multiplied about his Life.  
Indeed Herodotus, who according to his own Account 
† In Euterpe.  lived but Four hundred Years after him, is said to have drawn up the entire Story of Homer. And we have still among his Works a Piece, which promises us the same favour by its Title; tho' Learned Men have not yet agreed to acknowledge it for Genuine. However, it cannot fail of a civil reception, while it is not manifestly convicted as a Cheat. And, supposing the worst, why may not we as well entertain ourselves with the feigned History of a Person we admire, as with the fancied Statue or Picture, when the true are irrecoverably lost? In those Arts, if one single Mark or Feature be but known, there is ground enough to proceed on in forming the whole Piece. And here, after all the strange Reports, we have still Certainty enough for a Foundation. Therefore, while we stick to the common Notion formed of him by all the World, of a Blind, Indigent Bard, strolling up and down, and owing all his poor subsistence to his Muse: should the larger Memorials not appear strictly true; yet they must needs seem in some measure pleasant and agreeable, when they are built on so good a Bottom.  
If then we may be allowed to tell the Tale after Herodotus; His Mother Critheis was born and lived at Cuma in Aeolia: where, happening to be with Child by a stolen Embrace; her Guardian after her Parent's Death, to avoid the Public Scandal, sent her away to a Friend of his at Smyrna; which City had been lately founded by a Colony from Cuma. Within a little time after her remove, going with the Procession of Women to a Feast, celebrated near the River Meles, she was suddenly brought to Bed of HOMER; and gave the Boy the Name of Melesigenes, from the Place of his Birth.  
Upon this Accident, she was obliged to leave the Gentleman, to whose Care she had been committed by her Guardian; and to set up in Smyrna for herself; getting her Livelihood by her Work. This thrived so well with her, that she did not only procure a Competent Maintenance, but could afford to bring up her Son in the Arts and Improvements proper to his Age. Her Industry and Prudence gained Her so fair a Character in the City; that in a little time she received the Addresses of one Phemius, an eminent Teacher of Letters and Music; and after a long Siege, at last consented to Marry him. The Old Gentleman admired the extraordinary Parts of his Son in Law; and taking all the Care in the World of his Education, found him quickly so far beforehand with the rest of the Scholars, as to be able to cope with his Master in his own Art. And in short, at his Death, left him all his Effects, and the Command of the School.  
Our Poet, falling to his Hereditary Profession, soon advanced it to such a prodigious degree, as to make himself the common Wonder, not only of his Countrymen; but of all the Strangers that resorted to Smyrna; on account of the Great Corn-Trade, for which that City was famous. Among other Foreigners who applied themselves to him for the Benefit of his Conversation; one Mentes, the Master of a Vessel, and a Man, as Times went, of tolerable Knowledge and Learning, was so taken with his Company; that by a great many fair Promises, he prevailed with him to leave his School, and to go aboard for Leucadia, the Merchant's own Country. The Main reason of His Compliance seems to have been the extraordinary desire he had of informing himself in the Manners and Customs of different People; which he judged would be of great use to the design he had before formed, of making Poetry the Business of his Life.  
He had now furnished himself with abundance of Remarks on the Places occurring in his Travels. When, by reason of his ordinary Infirmity, a terrible Humour in his Eyes; not being able to make the whole Voyage, He agreed to be left at Ithaca: being recommended to the care of one Mentor, an Acquaintance of the Merchants, and a Man of the greatest Character for Justice and Hospitality, in that Island. And here it was that he picked up the main part of his Stories about Ulysses. His Old Friend the Merchant, returning some time after, and finding his Eyes a little better, took him aboard again: and carrying him about to many places, at last landed him at Colophon: where his Indisposition returned so violently as to take away his sight.  
He had reason to be tired of rambling now, and accordingly, as well as he could, repaired home to Smyrna. But it seems he had lost all his Interest there, by leaving the City after so unaccountable a manner. So that finding himself in a fair way to be starved, he resolved to take a Journey to Cuma, where his Ancestors had lived; and to support himself as well as he could upon the Road, by his Begging and by his Muse. But finding his Poetry take very much in a little Town on the Way; He settled there for some time, and got his Victuals by Haranguing the People in Verse. However, supplies did not come in so fast, but that he quickly grew as Hungry as ever: and so took his leave of his Patrons, and went in earnest for Cuma. Here, surprising the People with his Songs and his Art, he was encouraged to address the Council for a maintenance: engaging upon that Consideration, to make their City the most Famous in the World.  
The greater part of the Magistrates were at first inclined to accept his Proposal: only one of the Grave Gentlemen declaimed bitterly against admiting him; and told his Wise Brethren among other things, that if they made a Custom of taking all the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Blind Strowlers, into their Protection, the Town would be filled in a little time with a company of useless Creatures, fit for nothing in the Earth but to breed a Famine.  
And to this Accident Homer, owed his Name. After much Debate, this Opinion carried the Day, and was proclaimed by the Crier; decreeing no support to be given to the Petitioner. Surprised at the sad disappointment, he left Cuma for Phocaea: only wishing the Inhabitants at his Departure, that there might never rise a Poet in their Country, to celebrate so ungrateful a People.  
Arriving at Phocaea, He plied his old Trade of Poesy; and made a shift by reading and showing his Verses, to keep Body and Soul together. There happened then to live in the City, one Thestorides a Rascally sort of a Pedant, whose Talon reached no farther, than to teach Children their Letters. However he had sense enough to admire the Excellency of Homer's Art; and thought he should make a fair Prize, if he could trick him out of his Wit. With this Design, he made his Applications after a very civil manner; and promised the Poet to allow him a convenient subsistence, upon condition he might have the liberty of transcribing those Pieces, which he had already by him, and whatever he should compose farther. Homer was glad of any security from Hunger and Cold; and so, without suspecting any Knavery, agreed to live with the Fellow; and to give him what liberty he pleased in relation to his Writings. Under the Care of such a Patron, he is said to have wrote the Lesser Iliad, 
a Aristotle denies Homer to have been the Author of this Poem, Poet. cap. 24.  which began 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
I sing Troy's Plains for Generous Steeds renowned;  
Where the Brave Greeks such bloody Labours found.   
Thestorides having received this Poem, and a great many other Pieces, that his Guest put into his Hands, thought it was time for him now to be gone, and to make the best Market of them he could. Accordingly, stealing away from Phocaea, he went for Chios; and there opening a School, and publishing Homer's Verses in his own Name, they thrived so much better with him than they had done with their Author, that he quickly found himself possessed of a sufficient stock of Money, and a larger of Reputation. Poor Homer all this while was living hard on his Wit at Phocaea; and seemed more concerned to provide himself necessary sustenance, than to venture an uncertain quest after the Thief. But, a little while after, there happened some Persons of Learning to arrive there from Chios; who, wondering to hear several pieces of Poetry recited by Homer, that they had been obliged with from another hand in their own City; took occasion to give an account of the new Schoolmaster, and what a Trade he drove with his Verses. Homer, understanding where his Sharper was fixed, resolved to take the trouble of unkenneling him; and went presently to the Seaside to meet with a Vessel for his Expedition. As ill luck would have it, there were no Ships directly bound for Chios: however finding a Fleet ready to Sail to Erythraea with Wood, he thought it would not be much out of his way, if he embarked with them for that City. Approaching the Mariners, he said a great many fine things to them, and easily prevailed to gain admission into one of the Vessels. As soon as ever he was well seated, he began to show his Gratitude and his Art; and made his Prayer for their good Voyage in such Strains as these. 
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Hear me, Great Neptune, whom the Waves obey,  
Whose Trident makes the trembling Shores give way;  
But rules Fair Helicon with gentler Sway.  
Grant these Good Men, that o'er thy Realm are born,  
A Prosperous Gale, and bless their safe Return.  
While I securely reach the Sacred Lands  
Which Stately Mima's awful height commands.  
Direct me to some Host that will be kind;  
And aid my search; till the Vile Wretch we find;  
Who thus with impious Theft repay's my Love,  
And breaks the Rites of Hospitable Jove.   
Whatever his Prayers might signify, they had a fair Gale to drive them to Erythaea. But here things did not go altogether so well as Homer could wish. For getting a Friend to inquire at the Harbour, he heard of no Ships that were ready to make a Voyage toward Chios. However to try his Fortune, a little farther, he desired to be led along by the Seaside, something lower, to the Place, where the Fishermen used to ply with their Boats. Some of these appeared to be Bound for Chios, but were so Churlish as to deny a poor blind Fellow the small favour of a Passage. Homer nettled at their rudeness, broke out into his ordinary Revenge of Verse. 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Hard hearted Villains, whom the milder Sea  
Keeps (like its Cormorants) on Wrecks and Prey:  
Expect Jove's Vengeance; for his Bolts prepare:  
'Tis Jove makes Strangers his peculiar Care.  Thus disappointed of his Hopes he sat down very melancholy on the Shore: when presently after he heard the same Seamen bawling near the Land; they having been driven back by a Tempest to the Place, where they set out. He did not fail to make his advantage of this Accident, but told them gravely, that the only Cause of their Misfortune was their base refusal of his Request; and engaged they should have a good Voyage, on condition they'd be more civil, and honestly take him in. The Fishermen, upon second thoughts, easily imagined something more than ordinary in the case; and consented to hoist him into the Boat. But as soon as they had crossed the Sea, they went about their Affairs, and left the Poor Passenger on the Beach to shift for himself. It seems he straggled luckily enough toward Chios; but met with an Adventure in the way, which stopped his Journey and his Designs. For happening in his Ramble to follow the Cry of a company of Goats, that were feeding in the Country, he lighted at last on the Goatherd himself: who enquiring into his Condition, and receiving a most lamentable story of Troubles and Afflictions; took pity on the Distressed Stranger, and led him into his Hut. As soon as they had refreshed themselves with a little Food, Homer beginning a pleasanter Tune, and a Relation of his former Travels; worked himself into the entire love and esteem of his honest Host, and was obliged with a Lodging there for that Night. The next Morning, the Goatherd though it his Duty to acquaint his Master with the good Fortune. Accordingly, leaving Homer in the Cottage, with the promise of a speedy return, he repaired to Bolissus, (a Town hard by) where his Master lived, and informed him what a Miracle of a Man he had met with; desiring his Advice in the Point how he was to be disposed of. The Gentleman had no great inclinations to countenance a blind Vagabond; however he ordered the Stranger to be brought to him, to see if he answered his Character. The Goatherd returning to the Field, led Homer into Town, and presented him to his Master. And he, after much talk, receiving full satisfaction of the Wisdom, Ingenuity and Integrity of his Guest; entreated him to take up his Quarters there in the House, and to engage in the Institution of his Sons. Homer accepting the Proposal with a thousand Thanks; immediately fell to his Charge. And here it was that he Composed abundance of his lighter Pieces, with universal Applause, particularly the Battle of the Frogs and Mice. The report of his residence in the Neighbouring Parts, soon reached Chios: Upon which Advice, Thestorides thought fit once more to give him the slip, and was glad to sneak away with the first Fleet, and seek his Fortune.  
Homer, however satisfied with his new Patron's Favours, yet could not entirely forget the main design of his Expedition. So that after a considerable stay, he begged leave to carry on his first Pursuit, and to proceed for Chios. Here, tho' the Thief was fled who had occasioned his Journey, yet he found his Labour very well spent, meeting with extraordinary encouragement, and quickly raising himself a flourishing School; where he instructed the Youth in his own Verses. And now, being arrived at a Happiness he never before enjoyed, a plentiful Fortune; he got him a Wife, and resolved to fix in so good Quarters. Under these easy Circumstances he composed his Nobler Works; taking particular care to make a grateful mention of those Persons, from whom he had received the chief Obligations of his Life. Thus he brings in Mentor, who had treated him so kindly at Ithaca, as one of the Prime Ministers of Ulysses, and him to whom the Prince when he set forward for the Trojan War, committed the Charge of his Family, and his Concerns. And what's more Honourable, having occasion to introduce Pallas in a Mortal shape, he gives her the form of Mentor. His Father in Law and Master Phemius' Care he has repaid in that grateful Commemoration of him, in the first of the Odyssey, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
His shining Harp the Herald strait resigned  
To Phemius, Prince of all the tuneful Kind.   
His Friend Mentes the Merchant stands too upon Record, 
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Mentes my Name I boast, Stout Anchial's Son:  
And my just sway the Sailing Taphians own.   
The Fame of Homer's Poetry was not now confined to jonia, where he had passed his Life, but made an equal Noise in Greece. So that among the vast Number of Strangers that used to visit him for the sake of his Wit, some at last prevailed with him to take a Voyage into those Parts. He was mightily pleased with the Invitation: and having in the first place inserted several Honourable touches on the City Athens in his Poems, he set Sail, and arrived at Samos, where he took up his Winter Quarters.  
During his stay there, his way of maintaining himself, was at the time of every New Moon, to go about, with a Chorus of Boys that led him, to the Houses of the Greatest Persons in the City, and to sing this kind of Ballad, or Wassail at their Doors. 
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At our Master's Great House, Merry Tribe, here we stand,  
To praise his just Wealth, and applaud his Command.  
Let the Barrs be knocked off, and unlock the Proud Gate,  
While Plenty and Peace make their Entrance in State.  
May Joys here, like Rivals, contend which shall Reign;  
And Ceres with Bacchus the Combat maintain.  
May the Nymph, whose sweet Charms our Young Patron have won,  
Drawn by Prancing high Mules, ride in Triumph to Town.  
And when the Gilt Coach it's fair Load shall resign,  
Beneath her gay Feet may the bright Amber shine.  
May her Wit to her Needle fresh Labours afford;  
And o'er the rich Loom spread the Fame of her Lord.  
Thus our Visits and Vows we repeat through the Year,  
And with the new Seasons, like Swallows, appear.  
In th' Porch we wait Your Boon: say quick,  come, or no;  
've a long round to make; when our Song's done We go.   
This Begging piece of Cant, was held in great veneration for a long time after in Samos; and used constantly to be sung by the Boys on the Festival of Apollo.  
In the Spring, Homer thinking on nothing but his Journey to Athens, embarked with some of the People of those Parts, and landed at jos. Here finding himself violently ill, and the Town being at a great distance from the Harbour, he laid down upon the Grass near the Shore. In this Condition the Fishermen met with him, and encountered him with their Famous Riddle, of 
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(Leaving what's took, what we took not we bring)  which, they say, he not being able to expound, died with Grief. But the true account is, that his former Distemper was the cause of his Death; which happened soon after in jos. The People of the City, and the Passengers who had born him company thither, paid their last Respects to him in an Honourable Burial. His Tomb stood by the Sea-Shore; and had this Epitaph engraved on it in a later Age; when his Poems had gained the Approbation of all the World, 
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In this blessed Earth his Head old Homer shrouds,  
The first of Heroes, or the last of Gods.   
This is the miserable account we have of Homer: these are the faint shadows Antiquity reflects at such a distance. But if we recall the Mind from the dark view of his Story, and six it all at once on the Relics that he has left us; our Pity is turned into a deeper Wonder: We forget the rude Draught of his Person and Fortune, to contemplate on the Nobler Image of his Soul. The Blind Songster immediately vanishes; and in his room we are presented with the Father and Prince of Verse the Preacher of Wisdom and Virtue, the Founder of Arts and Sciences, the Great Master of Civil Life, and the Counsellor of Kings.  
The Ancients have heaped much higher Titles on him than these. But 'tis easy to observe, that their Rhapsody of Praises is rather founded on particular Excellencies, than on the entire Beauty of his Poems, and the justness of the whole Designs. They admired the vastness of his Thought, the torrent of his Words, the sweet Charms of his Fictions, and the usefulness of his Precepts and Counsels: But they had little regard to the Masterpiece of his Divine Art, his Conduct and Institution. It's true, Aristotle and Horace have laid down a number of Rules drawn from Nature and Reason: by applying which, they sometimes applaud his Contrivance in General; and sometimes insist on the discovery of peculiar Graces. But then they either commend the whole, without examining the Parts; or else they illustrate the Parts without intimating their Relation to the whole. They either show us the fine Machine at one view, without taking it to pieces: or else they lay those Pieces at too great a distance, and never give them us all in the same Light. The most Judicious and Ingenious Bossu, who built his Doctrine of the Epique Poem on the Foundation they had laid, is the first that has drawn Homer at his full length: Atoning, by this eminent piece of Service, for the many useless Labours of his Countrymen in the same Field; by which, in the Judgement of a Great Man, They seem rather to have valued themselves, than improved any body else.  
'Tis from Bossu then, that we must thus learn the Design, the Construction and the Use of the Iliad and the Odyssey.  
In all matters which we undertake with deliberation and conduct, the end proposed is the first thing in our Minds, and that by which we govern the whole Design, and it's particular parts. Now the End of the Epique Poem being the Regulation of Manners; 'tis this the Poet must have first in his View, before he set's to Work.  
But then, there's a great deal of difference between the Philosophical and the Poetical Doctrine of Manners. The Schools content themselves with the consideration of Virtues and Vices in general. The Instructions which they give are calculated for all States, People, and Ages. The Poet now, has a nearer concern for his own Countrymen, and a particular eye on the present Distresses and Inconveniencies that they labour under. With this design he chooses some Moral Point, the justest and the most proper that he can imagine: and to urge the Truth of it, he does not so much employ the force of Reasoning, as the Arts of Insinuation and Pleasure; accommodating himself to the particular Customs and Inclinations of those, who are either to be the Subject or the Readers of his Work. Now let us see how exactly Homer has answered these Rules.  
He found the Grecians, for whose Instruction he wrote, divided into as many independent States and Principalities, as they had Towns of any considerable Note: notwithstanding which, they lay very often under a necessity of uniting in one Body against a Common Enemy. Now it being impossible to join these two different Conditions or Governments in one Maxim of Morality; or a single Poem: He has built them into two separate Fables. One for Greece in general, as joined in a Common Body; tho' composed of parts otherwise not depending on one another. The other for every particular state, as they may be supposed to have stood, in time of Peace, when they had no Obligation to such an Union or Alliance.  
As to the first of these; 'tis a known Remark that in all Confederacies composed of independing States, the Good Success is in a great Measure owing to the fair Understanding maintained by the Chief Commanders. And on the contrary, that scarce any Miscarriage happens, which was not occasioned by the Heats and Jealousies, and Ambition of the different Princes; and the uneasiness they pretend to feel in obeying any single General. So that the most useful Lesson Homer could give his Countrymen, considered in this Relation; was to set before their Eyes the sad Calamities which must necessarily fall both on the People and the Princes, by the unhappy Ambition, Discord and Stubbornness of the latter. He takes therefore for the Foundation of his Fable this grand Truth, That the Misunderstanding between Princes in the ruin of their States.  
But this Truth, before it can be set in its full Light has need of a second to sustain it. 'Tis necessary in such a Design, not only to represent the Confederate States at first quarrelling among themselves, and so, unfortunate: but to show them afterwards reconciled and victorious. Let's see how he has joined these matters in one sole universal Action.  
Here are several Princes, independent one of another, united against their Common Enemy. The Person who has been chose Generalissimo, happens to offend the most Valiant of all the Confederates. The affronted Prince is enraged to such a degree, as to relinquish the Union, and to enter into an obstinate resolution of engaging no farther in the Common Cause. This Misunderstanding affords the Enemy such an advantage, that the Allies are in a fair way to quit their Enterprise with disgrace. The Prince himself who made the separation, is not without his share in the Evils which he has brought on his Party. For having given his dearest Friend leave to Succour them in an extreme necessity: this Friend of his is killed by the Greneral of the Enemies. So the quarrelling Chiefs being both grown wise at their own Expense, the matter is taken up; and they join Forces as before. The happy Consequence of which reconcilement is, that this Valiant Prince who had withdrawn, not only brings the Victory to his side; but completes his private Revenge, by killing with his own hands the Author of his Friend's Death.  
See here the first Plan of the Poem, and the Fiction uniting in one important and universal Action all the particulars on which it is raised.  
Now this must be made probable, by the circumstances of Time, Place and Persons. There must be Men found out of eminent Character and Fame either in History or otherwise, on whom this Fable may be handsomely fixed. Homer has chose the Siege of Troy, and supposes the Action to have passed there. To that Airy Gentleman of his Brain whom he fancies Valiant and Choleric, he gives the Name of Achilles; his General of the Confederates he calls Agamemnon; and the Enemies Chief, Hector; and so of the rest.  
He has still another task left; the accommodating himself to the Manners, the Customs and the Genius of his Auditors, the People of Greece; to engage them to read his Work, and to gain their Approbation, by the Praises he gives them: So that they might forgive him those Faults which he must necessarily represent in some of his chief Personages. He has acquitted himself of these Devoirs to admiration, by making the Victorious Princes and People, all Grecians, the Ancestors of those whom he is concerned to flatter.  
But not being content to propose only the principal Point of the Moral, which he designs to teach, so as to fill up the rest of the Fable with vain Garniture and useless Incidents: He extends his Moral by its necessary Consequences. For, in the Question before us, it is not enough to know, that a good understanding should be always maintained among Confederates; but 'tis a piece of Wisdom of almost equal importance, if any Division happen, to keep it secret from the Enemy: that their Ignorance may hinder them from making any use of the Advantage. And, in the second place, while such a Breach is not really made up, but only disguised, it is by no means adviseable to press on the Enemy very vigorously; lest we discover the weakness which we are obliged to conceal.  
Now the Episode of Patroclus conveys these two Instructions in a most admirable manner. For when he appeared in the Arms of Achilles, the Trojans, taking him really for that Prince reconciled and reunited to the Grecians; presently ran away, and relinquished the Advantages which they before had over the Confederates. But Patroclus who ought to have been satisfied with this success, assailing Hector too closely, and forcing him to a single Combat: soon let him understand, that 'twas not the true Achilles which his Armour covered; but an Hero of much inferior prowess. In short Hector kills his Antagonist; and recovers the Advantages his Men had lost on the feigned Reconciliation of Achilles 
a Du Poem Epique. Liv. 1. Chap. 8. .  
The Odyssey was not made, like the Iliad, for the instruction of all the Grecian States joined in a Confederate Body; but for the use of each State as it subsisted singly. Now a State being composed of two parts, the Head that commands, and the Members that obey; both these have need of instruction; the one to govern, the others to submit to Government.  
There are two Virtues necessary for a Governor, Wisdom to order, and Care to see his Orders put in Execution. The Wisdom of a Politician is not acquired but by long experience of all sorts of Affairs, and by an exact knowledge of all the different forms of Regiment in the World. Then again, the Care of Administration never permits the Supreme Governor to be far from home; but obliges him to a constant residence: And those Princes who ramble from their States, are in great danger of losing them; in regard they give occasion to the highest Disorder and Confusion.  
These two Points may easily be united in the same Person. A King leaves his Subjects to visit many Foreign Courts; where he informs himself of the Manners and Customs of several Nations. Hence there naturally arrises an infinite number of Incidents, Dangers, and Adventures very useful for advancing the Doctrine of Politics. On the other side this absence of the King draws a thousand disturbances on the Kingdom; which are not concluded till his return, whose Presence only can re-establish will have the same part, and the same effects in this Fable, which the Division of the Princes had in the other.  
The Subjects have scarce need of any more than one general Maxim, which is, to suffer themselves to be governed, and to obey faithfully; whatever reasons they may fancy to themselves against the Orders they receive. 'Tis easy to join this Instruction with the other, by furnishing this Wise and Industrious Prince with Subjects, who in his absence are more inclined to follow their own Judgements than his Commands: and by showing from the Miseries which their Disobedience brings upon them, the unhappy Consequences which almost necessarily attend these Private Counsels when carried on in opposition to the Supreme Power.  
But now, as 'twas necessary that the Princes of the Iliad should be Choleric and Contentious; so it's as necessary in the Fable of the Odyssey, that the Chief Person be sage and Prudent. This raises a mighty difficulty in the Fiction: because this Chief Person ought to be absent, for the two Reasons already given; which are essential to the Fable, and compose the principal Spring: and yet he can't absent himself, without transgressing the other Maxim of equal importance, that a King ought upon no account to ramble from his Country.  
It's true indeed, there are many necessary Causes which might be a sufficient Covert to the Prudence of our Politician in this case: But then, such a necessity is important enough of itself to furnish matter for a Poem: and this Multiplication of the Action would be faulty. The Remedy therefore is, in the first place, to fix this necessity and this departure of the Hero, without the Bounds of the Poem. And, Secondly, the Hero, having been obliged to absent himself for some reason's antecedent to the Action, and placed without the Fable; he ought not embrace this opportunity of instructing himself; and so wilfully keep from his own Dominions. For, at this rate his Absence would be plainly voluntary, and they might justly impute to him all the Disorders that broke out at Home.  
So that in the Constitution of the Fable, the Poet ought not to take for his Action, and for the Foundation of his Work, the departure of a Prince from his Country; nor his voluntary stay abroad, but his Return; and that too as it is retarded against his Will. This is the first Idea which our Poet gives us. His Hero makes his first appearance in a remote Isle, sitting by the Sea shore, and surveighing the Water with Tears in his Eyes; as the Obstacle which had so long opposed his return, and kept him from the sight of his dear Country.  
Lastly, As this forced delay is something more natural and more likely to happen in Voyages by Sea; Homer has judiciously pitched on a Prince, who reigned in an Island.  
Let us see then, how he has framed the whole Action; making his Hero a Man of Years, as necessary for improving himself in Wisdom and Politics.  
A Prince being obliged to quit his Country, and to lead an Army of his Subjects on a Foreign Expedition: having gloriously accomplished this Adventure, is leading back his Victorious Forces to his own State. But in sight of all the Arts and Endeavours with which his Impatience can inspire him; the Tempests keep him on the Way several Years; and cast him on many Countries, differing in Manners and Government from one another. In the midst of these Dangers which he encounters, his Companions, refusing to obey his Orders perish all by their own Fault. Mean while the Great Lords in his Territories, abuse his absence, with the vilest Insolence, and put all things in Confusion at home. They lavish his Riches; they endeavour treacherously to murder his Son; they would constrain his Lady to accept of one of them for a Husband: and carry on their violent courses with so much the more liberty, in regard they persuade themselves, that he will never see them again. But, in the End, the Prince returns; and, only making himself known to his Son, and to some Persons, who still continued Loyal, and firm to his Interest: He is himself the Witness of his Enemy's Impudence; He gives them their just punishment, and restores to the Isle that Peace and Tranquillity which had suffered Banishment with him.  
Here, as the Truth which serves for the Foundation of this Fiction, and which with it composes the Fable, is, that the absence of a Person from his Concerns, and his Negligence in his own Affairs, are the Cause of great Disorders at home: so the principal and the most essential part of the Action is the Absence of the Hero. This takes up almost the entire Poem: for not only his real Absence is of many Years continuance: but even after his Return, he does not let himself be publicly known: And this prudent disguise, of which he makes so great an advantage, has the same effects on the Authors of the Troubles, and on those who know nothing of his coming home; as if he was still abroad. So that he is absent with relation to them, till such time as he discovers himself in their Punishment.  
The Poet, having thus composed his Fable, and joined the Fiction to the Truth, has made choice of Ulysses King of the Isle Ithaca to sustain the chief Character; and has distributed the inferior parts among Penelope, Telemachus, Antinous, and what other Names he pleases.  
We need not here insist on that multitude of excellent Precepts, which are so many parts and natural Consequences of the Fundamental Truth; and which the Poet has so artificially disguised in those Fictions, that are the Episodes and the Members of the Grand Action. Such are these Moral Advices. Not to intrude into the Mysteries of Government which the Prince would keep secret. This is represented to us by the Winds sowed up in a Leathern Bag; which the miserable Companions of Ulysses would needs be prying into; and so lost the use and benefit of them. Not to be captivated by the Charms of an idle and unactive Life: such as the Songs of the Sirens invited to. Not to suffer ourselves to be besotted with Pleasures, like those Wretches who were changed into Beasts by Circe. With an infinite number of other Instructions necessary for all sorts of Persons.  
This Poem is more for the use of the People than the Iliad; where the Subjects suffer more by the ill Conduct of their Princes, than by their own Miscarriages. But in the Odyssey the loss of his Subjects can by no means be charged on the Hero: On the contrary, this Wise Prince leaves no means untried to make them happy partakers of his Return. Thus the Poet tells us in the Iliad, that, he Sings the Anger of Achilles the Cause of so many Grecian's Deaths. In the Odyssey, on the other side, he takes care to let us know, that, the Subjects perished by their own Default.  
It's nevertheless very true, that these mighty Names of Kings and Heroes; of Achilles, Agamemnon, and Ulysses represent no loss the meanest Citizens, than the Caesars the Pompey's and the Alexander's of the World. Men of ordinary rank are equally subject to lose their Estates, and to ruin their Families, by Quarrels and Divisions, or by their negligence in managing their Affairs, as Persons of the highest Quality. So that they have as much occasion for Homer's Instructions, as Kings themselves; and are perhaps as capable of profiting by them 
a Du P. Ep. liv. 1. chap. 10. .  
Those that set up for Sceptics in Criticism, may easily say that, all this is but Scheme and Hypothesis; and that Homer never understood Politics and and Oeconomics half so well, as since Bossu has been his Tutor. That the sine Train of Allegory or (as they will rather term it) Mystery, is not owing to the Poet's Imagination but to our own: while, be-in once grown enamoured of his Muse, we not only see a thousand new Charms about her, to which she is really a Stranger; but like crazed Lovers, turn her very imperfections into Beauties.  
But sure if Theories in Philosophy, are so much in fashion, Theories in Poesy might hope to be as kindly received. 'Tis now a days the Character of Fools to admire what they done't throughly know: But the Men who pretend to Thought and Sense, will never esteem a thing till they fancy they understand it. Thus they are not ravished with the fair variety of Nature, till they have framed some kind of Clue to the Mazes of her Works; and a reason for every appearance, every little Feature in her Face. They would not admire the Celestial Motions, unless they carried their Spheres about with them in their Heads; and could measure the steps of every rolling Orb. And certainly, they cannot be better pleased with a Poet, till they form some Notion of his Conduct and Design. They cannot value his Magic, unless they conceive how 'tis wrought: nor acknowledge the Power of any Charms, that pretend to conquer, without being understood.  
Thus, were this Doctrine no more than a probable Hypothesis, it would be of real use to the World; because it would recommend the Poems to men's esteem; and by that means, enforce the Lessons they convey. But we may as rationally imagine that all the Letters which express the Iliad and the Odyssey were jumbled into their present Order by a chance throw: as that the Poems were composed by the Author without some General and useful Prospect. And, when we are to judge what this Prospect was; we must be guided by the Natural drifts and turns of the main Actions, and by the Manners of the People for whom he wrote. And then, we shall be carried into the same Plan which Bossu has finished, and of which Aristotle and Horace drew the first Lines.  
It must be acknowledged, that the same Excellent Father, and other late Masters have raised on this Model, several new structures, which probably never entered into Homer's Brain. Thus particularly, that the Divinities whom he employs, are sometimes Virtues and Vices, sometimes Natural Appearances, and only sometimes the Supreme Powers of Heaven, is a Distinction which if Plato and Pythagoras had ever heard of, 'tis not likely that one of them should have banished the Poet his Commonwealth for speaking injuriously of the Gods; or the other have made him do Penance in Hell for the same Crime.  
They are indeed as much in an extreme, who make Homer infallible, as those who despise him for a trifling Dotard. He could not paint his Deities without Spots and Blemishes: And must we allow him a Prerogative which he thought fit to deny Heaven? Or when all the rest of the World, Immortals and Mortals are fast asleep, must he only with his Jupiter 
a 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Iliad. 2.  be exeused from Nodding? We may take Horace's word for it that he does sometimes Nod; and my Lord Roscommon's, that he now and then proceeds a little farther. But then commonly he does it for Company: and because in his Age the same Fit had taken the greatest part of Mankind. Thus his own ΟΙΟΙ ΝΥΝ ΒΡΟΤΟΙ ΕΙΣΙ, if rightly managed, would confute all the vain Cavils of his Modern Opposers. Those nice Gentlemen, who, because Wit and Sense are the same in all Ages, must needs have Manners and Humours and even Languages to be the same too. For the three main things which offend their curious Palates, are the Fables which we find in Homer, the odd Manners of his Heroes, and the Improprieties (as they call them) of his Style. And in all these Charges, they show themselves so very Modern, as to think the World always was, just as they found it. Otherwise, is it possible they should be ignorant, that Poetry and Fables made up the Learning and the very Religion of the Old Heathens: Fables to conceal the Doctrines, and Poetry to convey the Fables? Can they be ignorant that the Wisest and most Judicious in all Ages believed those Stories no more than they themselves; all of them thinking what Strabo has the boldness to declare, ‛ That Mankind being naturally desirous of Knowledge, and the ignorant and undisciplined part of Men no better than Children, 'twas fit they should be plied with such Notions, as would at the same time satisfy their Curiosity, and enforce their Obedience. ' The same excellent Author will inform them, ‛ That it being absurd to hope in those dark times, that Women and the common Multitude should be drawn to Religion, Holiness, and Fidelity, by the reasonings of a Philosopher; there was need, besides these, of some Superstition to constrain them; which Superstition could not be carried on, without Fables and Prodigies: And that thus the Thunderbolts, and the Goats-skin Shield of Jupiter, the Trident, the Torches, the Snakes, and the Ivy-Rods, were all Fables, and so was the whole System of the ancient Theology. ' 
a Strabo Lib. 1.   
But if the modish Cavillers should prove so complaisant to Antiquity, 〈…〉 be offended at Fables in general, they will say, they only dislike Homer for the absurd use of them; that is, for inserting a great Number of such as cannot be reconciled to any rational Allegory; others that are absolutely impossible; and some, which instead of instructing and encouraging the People in Virtue, seem rather to countenance the vilest Disorders.  
To the first of these Objections it may be returned, that while the greater part of the Fictions disclose some glorious and useful Moral, it is unreasonable to exact the true Allegory of every little Adventure. They may as well, when they read a Fable in Aesop, as suppose the Dog and the Shadow; not be satisfied with the general Caution against leaving real Goods for Appearances: unless they could expound the particular meaning of the River, and why the Cur should have a piece of Flesh in his Mouth, rather than any other Food. Thus their Niceness would appear very impertinent, tho' we should suppose that a great many of Homer's Stories were designed for no farther use, than to be the necessary Attendants of those other Fictions which they allow to contain some plainer Instruction. But what if it should be admitted for a fair Conjecture, that the Poet did really shadow a perpetual Lesson, in every part of the piece, but laid a great deal of it so artificially, as to be discovered only by those Persons whom he should favour with a Clue to the whole Labyrinth? Why might not Homer have as numerous a Train of Followers, as Orpheus and Musaeus are said to have gained by the same Arts? And then, why might not he (like the Masters of other Sects) besides the general Instruction to all the World, have concealed some deeper Doctrine in his Verses, designed only to be known by the Tribe of his own Scholars?  
If a Man was to read Tasso's 〈◊〉 of Jerusalem, he would presently apprehend a great many useful Notices scattered through the Action; such as the necessity of joining the force of Piety to that of Arms; the weakness of the Powers of Hell, when engaged against Heaven, and the like. But is it probable he should see yet farther within a second Curtain, and conceive that Jerusalem there signifies Civil Happiness; Godfrey, and the other Heroes, each of them some particular Power of the Soul; and that the Common Soldiers make up between them Man's Body, unless he had read the Author's Allegory presixed to the Poem; and seen the obscure Treasure pointed to by the same Hand that hide it?  
To those who charge Homer with the impossibility of some of his Fictions, Bossu and Dacier will answer, that the want of probability may generally be excused upon account of some attending Circumstance. And that thus all the monstrous Relations about Circè, Polypheme, the Sirens, etc. tho' absolutely false and extravagant, yet may pass with a good Air enough, if we consider what sort of People those were whom Ulysses entertains with such Recitals. And they were the Phaeacians, whom the Poet takes care to describe, as a soft, effeminate, idle Race of Mortals, living at a great distance from the Civil World; and desirous of no other Knowledge but that of Tales and prodigious Occurrences.  
This Apology carries a fair Face, and may be sufficient to establish Ulysses his Credit with his new Enemies, because they are not likely to look so far as the latter end of the Poem to confute it. But what if they should light by chance on that place in the Twenty third Book, where the Hero is said to have obliged his Lady at his return, with an Account of the same mad Adventures, the same Polypheme, and Scylla, and Circe, which had so charmed his Foreign Auditors? They will certainly bring this as an invincible Argument, that the stupidity of the Phaeacians ought not to excuse the extravagant absurdity of those Stories: unless we suppose the Travelling Prince, after the Sight of so many Cities and Manners, not to have been able to distinguish between a virtuous Penelope, and a Debauched Alcinous. Therefore, if we may venture to wander a little from such great Guides, as Bossu and Dacier; the reason of Homer's Impossibilities in the Odyssey, is not to be laid on the little spot of Phaeacia, but upon the whole Heathen World. Did not the Priests continually amuse the staring Multitude with Relations much more prodigious than any of Ulysses his Tales? And was not all the Philosophy for many Hundred Years after Homer, a wilder Romance than any part of his Poesy? Indeed there was plain necessity for this old Conduct. 'Twould have been as vain an attempt to have endeavoured the keeping simple Creatures in awe by rational means, as to talk serious sense to little Children. Both were to be charmed into their Duty by Prodigy and wonder. The Lawgiver applied his Stories like the Nurse: and the Gorgon's were as useful for maintaining the Quiet of Tribes and Societies, as the Bug-bears for securing the peace of the Cradle.  
The last part of the Charge against Homer's Fables is generally owned; where a great many of them are accused of serving rather to the encouragement of Men in Vice, than the inclining and inciting them to Goodness. All the brave Advocates and Champions that his Fame holds in pay, have not been able to guard it from this Attack. Being forced to acknowledge, that those unworthy representations of the Celestial Powers which run through every Story, must needs have advanced the Cause of Impiety in the ignorant World; because the unthinking part of Mankind were not able to look behind the gross Veil which covered these Sacred Matters; and so were miserably abused, mistaking the deformed and odious Shadow for the real Beauty and Substance, and esteeming the most dangerous Fictions, as solid and necessary Truths. 'Tis in vain to urge, that these unhappy Proceed may be justified by considering the particular Circumstances of every Business. As, that the rude Scene of Love between Mars and Venus may be reconciled to a Decorum, if we observe, that 'tis neither the Poet nor the Hero, nor so much as an honest Man that gives the Relation; but the dissolute Phaeacians sing it at a public Festival; as if the Poet designed only to show us, that the idle Arts of softness and luxury, are the Source of the most sinful Pleasures; and that the Men who spend their lives in these Disorders, naturally take a pleasure in hearing such shameful Recitals, and in making the Gods themselves sharers with them in their Debauches. 
a Bossu du Po. Ep. l. 5. ch. 2.  For this fine Allegory would not have hindered the ill effects of the Fable, unless every private Grecian had been blest with as Nice a Wit as Monsieur Bossu, to understand it.  
The Original of the Heathen Superstition is an enquiry too difficult and too tedious to be here engaged in. And yet we must have some Notion of it, because Homer is like to find no shelter, unless he takes Sanctuary behind the Altars of his Country. If then we consider the greatest part of the first Nations after the Dispersion, immediately corrupting into the grossest Ignorance, we may easily imagine the very Principles of true Religion to have been extinguished among them; except some few Relics of Natural Maxims, which remaining in wiser Heads, fitted them for Lawgivers and Founders of States. Now 'twas necessary for these great Designers to let the People have some Apprehensions of the supreme Powers of Heaven, whose authority was to keep them in their Duty. But it being impossible that the abstracted Notion of one Eternal, Infinite, and Almighty Being, should take any firm hold on Minds guided only by the outward senses; some Corporeal Images were to be introduced, which might maintain a vigorous Impression on the Fancy, by the resemblance of some things with which it was better acquainted. This might be offered as a reason why they clothed the Sovereign Being in a material shape, before they presented him to the adoration of the vulgar; still leaving him the Power of Invisibility, and of taking any new Form he pleased. But now when they had divested the Heavenly Nature of its infinite and uncompounded Essence, they found themselves obliged, to take away the Unity too, the Multitude would never have stood in due awe of one only Supreme Ruler in the Skies, whom they conceived in Form and Limbs not much unlike themselves; nor have allowed his Power so prodigious an extent beyond his Body. Therefore, besides the chief Jupiter, every corner in Heaven and Earth too, was filled with Inferior Deities; who tho' they were properly no more than Officers to put their Great Master's Pleasure in Execution, yet had the power of punishing any Crime committed in their particular Districts. But still, because no Divinity could have maintained his force upon the People, unless he had his peculiar Name and Story to run always in their Heads, and to keep their thoughts in play: 'Twas thought convenient to let them know that these Heavenly Governors were once Mortal Princes, who for their great Services to Mankind, had merited so exalted a State. And thus every God came to have his Legend, consisting of the mighty Adventures he had passed through during his Humane Condition. And because many of these Worthies lived at the same time, hence came they to be engaged in many common Intrigues. And from these arose their Loves, their Flights, their Wars, their Antipathies, and Friendships. Thus the Multitude arrived at the entertainment of these Adventures; the Civil Power encouraging their Curiosity, and retaining the Poets to give it Satisfaction.  
'Tis not unlikely, that the Government might hope for some farther Benefit from this Indulgence, than is commonly imagined. For 'twas reasonable for them to suppose, that the People acknowledging the Power of the Gods at the same time as they related their Failings; would, upon the same Principle, refuse to take any occasion from the Faults of their Rulers to resist their Authority. But would conceive Gods and Princes both to act by Prerogative, and to have a just right of punishing the same Actions in their Inferiors, which their own high Station, and their exemption from common Duties excused, or justified in themselves.  
Perhaps when Learning and Arts came to be more refined, the wise Masters who sat at the Helm might find the bad consequence of these Doctrines, and that the People would never grow hearty averse to sinful Courses, while they had so great Patrons and Examples, and could make Heaven a partner in their Gild. And therefore the State might again call the Poets to its assistance, who by framing an useful explanation of every old Story, should hinder the more knowing Persons from taking offence; and at least give an uncertain amusement to those who could not apprehend the Exposition.  
Thus without doubt in many Cases the Fable was not cast on to cover the Allegorical Truth; but the Allegorical Truth spread under, to disguise the Fable. For it can never be denied but that there were once really such Men as the Ancients called Saturn, Jupiter and Bacchus, tho' we have had so many old, and so many new Morals to make out the Mystery of their Stories, and of their Names.  
If now it at all appears from these Conjectures, that the original of the ridiculous Stories about the Gods, was not owing to the extravagant Fancies of the Poets, but to the necessity of the Times, and to the Rules of State: Can Homer be justly condemned for carrying on the same Design with a better Grace; that is, for presenting the old Fictions in a new dress, and so bringing them nearer to a hidden and Allegorical meaning? But indeed, should he plead Guilty to the whole Indictment, and thro' himself on the Mercy of his Judges; 'twould be very hard if we should require the strictest Piety in the Ancient Poets, while we are forced to dispense with it in the Modern; if our Zeal should exact from a Pagan Homer the Purity of a Christian, while our Complaisance can allow in our Christian Homer's the Liberty of Pagans.  
But our new Zoiluss, whatever plausible Actions they may have against Homer's Fables, are shamefully Cast, when they come to accuse him of Indecencies in his Manners and in his Style. They are exceeding angry, to hear Ulysses boast of his being the best Cook in the World, and challenge any Man to cut Meat, serve Wine, or make a ●ire with him. And to see Achilles himself trying his Faculty at the same Employment. But then they have forgot the Character of the ancient Simplicity, when among the good Primitive Mortals 'twas reckoned no dishonour, for the greatest Person to take care of his meanest Family Concerns, and upon occasion to perform the common Offices in his Kitchen, or in his Stable. 
a Dacier on Aristot. Poet. cap. 26.   
With just as much reason, they complain of Homer's Comparisons and Epithets, which they imagine to be gross Improprieties. They are affronted to find Ajax compared to an Ass: when all the while, not only the Word is good and lofty enough in the Greek and Hebrew, as Mr. Boileau observes, 
b Reflections Critics fur Longin. pag. 226.  but the Beast too was in esteem with the Ancients (as it is still in some Countries) and had the Honour to carry Kings and Princes, as well as Prophets and Priests.  
Ulysses too gives them a great disgust, when being in a violent Fury with the desire of punishing the lewd Gallants, tossing and tumbling from one side of the Bed to the other; he is compared to the Belly of a Beast, with the Fat about it, broiling on the Coals, and being often turned by the Fellow that takes care of it for his Dinner. Whence the facetious Mr. Perrault tells us, that Homer compares Ulysses to a Black Pudding on the Gridiron. A Jest that he borrowed, as 
a Reflections Sur. Longin. p. 211.  Boileau informs us, from an old lamentable Translation of the Odyssey into French. Now it's likely, that Similitude was taken from the Sacrifices, in which we know the Fat was especially regarded. Besides, the Bellies of some Animals were reckoned heretofore most delicious Meat, and much above the condition of our Modern Tripe.  
'Twere tolerable if this scrupulous niceness were only impertinent; but 'twould be no hard matter to prove it impious too. For there are abundance of Expressions in the Holy Scriptures which agree no butter with the Genins of Modern Times and Languages. Thus particularly these two Comparisons of Ajax and Ulysses seem to have something much of the same mode of Speech with them, in the Bible. Jacob in the 49th of Genesis, at the 14th sa●● Issachar is an Ass stooping between two Burdens. And in Ecclesiasticus, the 47th at the 2d, David is said to have been Separated from the Children of Israel, as the Fat is separated from the Flesh.  
But the most usual Folly, is the sneering at all such Epithets, as would perhaps look ridiculous in our Modern Phrase. Thus the Grave Malbranche observes, that the Title of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is fixed on the Hero of the Iliad, would be a more proper praise for a Fleet-Hound or a Race. Horse. 
b Preface de la Recherche.  Yet sure the Custom of giving most Princes and Great Commanders some distinguishing Epithet, is not so very much worn it, but we may find Examples enough of it, even in the Histories of later Times. Sure, Charles the Simple, and Lewis the Lazy of France, as well as our Robert Shorthose, and William Rufus might make us more merciful than to scout poor Achilles, for his old Surname of Lightfoot. But indeed this swiftness of Feet was always esteemed a Quality worthy of the noblest Captains, among the Ancients. Otherwise David would not have applied it so in his Divine Poesy. Yet he says of himself, that God had made his Feet like Hearts Feet. And reckoned it among the Excellencies of Saul and Jonathan, that they were swifter than Eagles, as well as stronger than Lions.  
Monsieur Perrault, who has been so hardy as to undertake the Cause of the Moderns against the Wisdom and the Arts of Antiquity, tho' he has not failed to make the best of every one of these little Cavils, yet seems to have been sensible of their weakness. And therefore, for fear the Name and Authority of Homer should defend Him against such slight attaques, he wisely gins his Censure with maintaining, that there was never any such Man in the World 
a Paralelle des Anciens & des Moderns. Tom. 2. p. 23.  That the two Poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, are nothing but a Collection of many little pieces by several Hands, joined altogether in a Body. In as much, as the Siege of Troy being the general Subject of the Poets in the Times when we pretend he lived; there came out commonly twenty or thirty Poems on that Action every Year, and the Man that made the best Verses gained the Prize. Till at last there happened to be some sort of Men in the World, who took a fancy to join the best of these pieces together; and accordingly putting them into some Order and Method, they formed the Iliad and the Odyssey. 
b Pag. 24.   
When he's put on the proof of this fine Hypothesis, he owns that he has indeed no demonstration, but is ready to produce very strong Conjectures. These strong Conjectures are, first, that Homer's Works are called Rhapsodies; the reason of which Name could be nothing else, but their consisting of a parcel of Songs tagged together; no Person ever after giving his Poems the same Title. Secondly, that we don't know the Country of Homer; and that therefore it is probable, every one of those Cities which laid claim to his Birth, had really produced one of those petit Poets, who composed some part of the Works. 
a Pag. 25.   
Now, as to the first of these Objections, what a surprise Monsieur Perrault would be in, if he should be told, that the word Rhapsody, is nothing but a Corruption from Rhapdody, or at least has the same signification; taken from the Boughs of Laurel which the public Reciters of Homer's Verses used to carry in their Hands; but indeed that one phrase of Pindar, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
b Nemae. Od. 2. ver. 2.  is enough to confute this Notion. We may venture therefore to grant, that the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 comes from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to sew or tag Verses together. But than is it not very natural, that this Name might first be given to any Poem of considerable length; and at last applied more properly to Heroic Poems; and by way of eminence to those of Homer?  
It's certain 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is used by the Ancients, as well for making Verses, as for singing them in Public: and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signifies as well the Poets themselves, as the Reciters of their Works. Lucian calls Hesiod 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and Sophocles gives his Sphinx the same Title, from her making Verses. And so too, after the Rhapsodists were established into a Company of Men who sung Verses at Festivals and on Public Occasions, they were not confined to Homer's Works (as a great Man 
a Mr. Boileau.  imagines) but rehearsed the Compositions of many other famous Poets 
b See Athenaeus lib. 13.  Tho' indeed, his Writings being the most esteemed and admired, they were beholden to him for the chief part of their Employment; and in gratitude took the Name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as Athenaeus 
c Lib. 14.  informs us. But there would have been little occasion for this latter Title. If their first of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 imported the same thing.  
Besides, if Mr. Perrault would deign to look at the beginning of any Book in the Iliad or the Odyssey, he would find that particular Book distinguished by the Name of such a Rhapsody; and therefore according to his Explication of the word, he would have the same reason to say that each Book was patched up of odd Verses, as each Poem of odd Books.  
His second Scruple, about our ignorance of Homer's Country will weigh no more than the first. For how many other Authors have we, whom we acknowledge and admire in their Works, tho' we are net informed of the Place of their Birth? At this rate, because we cannot yet settle the Country of Duns Scotus, 〈◊〉 must presently pass for one of his own Logical Chimaeras. And we must lose our own Homer Jeoffrey Chaucer, because he is contended for by several Counties, and adjudged certainly to none.  
But Mr. Perrault is so much a Gentleman, as at last to suppose that Homer might indeed make the Forty eight Books, which we find in the Iliad and the Odyssey; but then he says 'tis almost beyond dispute that he never formed those entire Poems. What in his Judgement puts this matter almost beyond dispute, is a passage of Aelian's various History; which indeed in Perrault's Words prove; what he desires; but in Aelians quite contradicts and spoils the whole Business. He draws the Argument after this manner;  Aelian, whose Testimony is by no means contemptible, plainly tells us, 'twas the Judgement of the Ancient Critics, that Homer never composed the Iliad and the Odyssey any otherwise than in little scraps, without any unity of Design. And that he gave no other Name to these particular pieces (which he made without order or method, in the heat of his imagination) but the title of the Subjects that they treated of: that he called the Song, which afterward made the first Book of the Iliad, The anger of Achilles; The numbering of the Vessels, that which was turned into the Second Book. The Combat of Paris and Menelaus, that which we have for the Third Book, and so of the rest. He adds, that Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian was the first who carried these separate pieces into Greece; and that 'twas Pisistratus who modelled them, as we are saying, and who made the Iliad and the Odyssey, in the manner we now see them, consisting of Four and twenty Books, in Honour of the Four and twenty Letters of the Alphabet. 
Thus Mr. Perrault, after his haughty and dogmatical manner, has made Aelian speak in his Citation; and now 'tis sit Aelian should speak for himself. His Words then in his 13th Book, Chap. 14th, as nearly as they can be rendered, are to this effect. 
a Pag. 26.   The Ancients used to sing Homer's Verses in separate Pieces. Such as they named, The Fight near the Ships; the Dolonia; the Valour of Agamemnen; the Catalogue of the Vessels; the Patroclea; the Redemption of Hector 's Body, the Sports in Honour of Patroclus, and the Violation of the Oaths. All these in the Iliad. In the other Poem, The Pylian Expedition, the Visit to Lacedaemon; the D●n of Calypso; the Ship; the Fables of Alcinous; the Cyclops, the Descent into Hell; the Baths of Circe; the Field-Adventure, and the meeting of Laertes. But the entire Works of Homer, came late into Greece; being brought by Lycurgus the Lacaedemonian, when he returned from his Ionian Voyage. Afterwards Pisistratus, putting them all together, first published the Iliad and the Odyssey. 
Now is there in all this, one word of Mr. Perrault's Sense, or the least reflection on Homer's Honour? Does Aelian speak of the Poet's way of composing by scraps; and not of the People's getting his Verses by heart in little parcels, and giving those parcels, what Names they pleased? But, (what was the boldest stroke of all) does the Historian say that Pisistratus made the Iliad and the Odyssey? It's true indeed we find confecit in the Latin: but besides that we may construe that rather made up, than made, it is manifestly a false Translation. For the Greek word is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; which imports no more than to show or exhibit to the Public 
a Reflections Sur Longin. p. 179.   
This is the Substance of what the most Judicious Boileau has returned to Perrault's Citation of Aelian. But there is a farther discovery behind, which, if it takes any thing from Perrault's Impudence, lays a great deal more on his Ignorance. The truth of the matter than is this. Our terrible Champion did not venture so far as the Greek or Latin either, for this Specimen of his Learning; but took the passage just as he found it in Father Rapin's Comparisons: where the Story is told exactly after the same unfaithful manner, and for the most part in the very same words 
b La Compar. d Homer & de Virgile. p. 153.   
But, because the most delicate of the New Critics, may be willing to stand to the Judgement of so Gentlemanlike a Wit as Horace; (except Perrault who will say He was prevailed on by the Vulgar Error 
a Paralelle. T. 2. p. 22. ) there cannot be a better conclusion, than his Character of our Great Poet; as he gives it his Friend, in the easy way of an Epistle. Lib. 1. Epist. 2. 
Trojani belli scriptorem, maxim Lolli,  
Dum tu declamas Romae, Praeneste relegi:  
Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,  
Plentus & melius Chrysippo & Crantore dicit.  
Curita crediderim, nisi quid te detinet, audi.  
Fabula, quá Paridis propter narratur amorem,  
Graecia Barbariae lento collisa duello,  
Stultorum regum & populorum continet aestus.  
Antenor censet belli praecidere causam.  
Quid Paris? ut salvus regnet, vivatque beatus,  
Cogi posse negat. Nestor componere lights  
Inter Peleiden festinat & inter Atreiden.  
Hunc amor: ira quidem communiter urit ut●umque.  
Quicquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi;  
Seditione, dolis, scelere, atque libidine, & ira,  
Iliacoes intra muros peccatur & extra.  
Rursus quid virtus, & quid sapientia possit,  
Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulysses.  
Qui domitor Trojae, multorum providus urbes,  
Et mores bominum inspexit; latumque per aequor,  
Dum sibi, dum sociis reditum parat, asperamulta  
Pertulit; adversis rerum immersabilis undis.  
Sirenum voces, & Circe's pocula nôsti:  
Quae si cum sociis stultus cupidusque bibisset;  
Sub dominâ meretrice fuisset turpis & excors:  
Vixisset canis immundus, vel amica luto sus,  
〈◊〉 numerus sumus, & fruges consumere nati;  
〈◊〉 Penelop●s, nebulones, Alcinoique  
〈…〉 ●…andâ plus aequo operata inventus.  
〈…〉 fuit in medios dormire dies, &  
Ad strepitum cuharae cessatum ducere curam.  

While Rome, Learned Sir, obeys Your Powerful Tongue,  
Our cooler Shades repeat the Trojan Song.  
Where the Wise Muse has fixed such lasting Rules,  
As baffle all our Sects, and shame the Schools.  
Where, Vice and Virtue stand, and Wrong and Right,  
All at full Length, all in their truest Light.  
Before this bold Assertion raise a doubt,  
If not engaged, pray hear my Reasons out.   

The Tale, where Paris with his lewd Amour,  
On Barbarous Plains consumes the Grecian Power,  
Discovers what rash Heat what Danger springs  
In senseless Croads, when ruled by senseless Kings.  
Antenor to the Trojan chiefs declares  
What only Cure must stop the desperate Wars.  
Begs the lose Dame may be with speed restored;  
Due to the Vengeance of her injured Lord.  
No Hopes, no Threats the stubborn Youth can move,  
To save his Crown by parting with his Love.   

Mean while Old Nestor calls up all his Charms,  
To join the wrangling Princes, and their Arms.  
The wrangling Princes wilder Thoughts engage;  
One melts with tender Love: both bourn with Rage.  
Madness is their Prerogative alone;  
But on the guiltless Herd the Common Plagues come down.  
While Vice and Sin like Fatal Neuters stand;  
Reign in the Camp, and in the Town command.   

Ulysses will as a fair Pattern show,  
What Wisdom's Art, and Virtue's Power can do.  
Who, while from Ruming Troy his Troops he led,  
Such Change of Manners saw, such different Coasts surveyed.  
In Seas unknown so many Labours bore,  
To land his Crew upon their Native Shore.  
His Breast still firm against the pressing Load  
Of Adverse Fate, and still Superior to the Flood.  
The Sirens Songs and Circe's Magic Draught;  
You can't but know: which had the Hero sought,  
With the same Gust, as his unthinking Train,  
He too had felt her Spells, and dragged her Chain;  
Losing at once by Lust, his Shape and Wit,  
Barked by her side, or wallowed at her Feet.   

We too are drawn. We are the numerous Fools  
That crowd the Ranks and swell the Muster-Rolls.  
Rude Ciphers, of Dame Nature's careless blotting;  
And only born to keep her Fruits from rotting.  
Penelope's Gallants, mere Pimps and Sharks;  
Courtiers of soft Alcinous; thoughtless Sparks,  
That in base Ease the lazy Hours employed,  
To smooth their Skin, and to distend their Hide:  
Believed it Heavenly Bliss to sleep till Noon,  
And in the Lute's sweet Voice their useless Passions drown.     

 depiction of Hesiod 
HESIODUS.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in marmore   
HESIOD.  
THE time of Hesiod is generally computed with relation to that of Homer: and therefore cannot be expected to stand in a much fairer Light. Some Authors, chief on account of the gravity and simplicity of his Style, make him the Elder of the two 
a Jul. Scalig. Poet. l. 1. c. 5. Accius in A. Gell. l. 3. c. 11. Marm. Arund.  some place Him a long time after 
b Cicero. Cat. Maj. Solin. Paterc.  Homer. Many affirm them to have been cotemporaries, and to have contended for the Prize of Poetry in a Famous trial of Skill 
c Plutarch Sympos. l. 5. Philostrat. Heroic. in Euphorb.   
The Younger Scaliger in his Animadversions on Eusebius 
d Ad Num. M. CCLU.  has observed, that there is one passage in Hesiod's Works, which if some able Astronomer would be at the trouble of the Experiment, might serve to demonstrate the Poet's Age within Seventy Years. Because he tells us himself that, when he lived, the Constellation Arcturus risen Acronycally on the 8th of March. He alludes, without doubt, to that place in the ΕΡΓΑ, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
But then, when Sixty Winter-days have run  
Since Jove turned back the Chariot of the Sun:  
The Great Arcturus leaves Old Ocean's Flood,  
And, soaring, spreads his Midnight-Orb abroad.   
The Danish Astronomer Longomontanus, has taken the pains to solve this 
e Sphaericorum Lib. 2. cap. 5. p. 83.  Problem: And, upon a long Proof, finds, that Hesiod wrote in the Year of the World 2918, 140 Years after the Trojan War; and consequently 100 before Homer, if we fix him in the 240 Year of that Period. But on another necessary consideration, the Astronomer afterwards substracts one half from that Interval; and so, bringing them nearer together, agrees pretty well with the Arundelian Marble, which makes them between Thirty and Forty Years distant: The Numeral Letter which should show the exact Year being worn out.  
Hesiod has been more kind than Homer, in regard that he has given us an account of his Country and Descent; But perhaps it was not so much with design to oblige the rest of the World as to abuse the Place where he lived by an unpleasant description; after having received some considerable affront there, which 
a Lib. 1. cap. 7.  Paterculus thinks was the Imposition of a Fine. Whatever the occasion was, in his ΕΡΓΑ speaking of Trading by Sea, he addresses his Brother Perses with this account of their Father's first Seat and his Remove. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
'Twas thus our Father, simple Perses, rowed  
Half his poor Life away, to earn his Food.  
'Twas he came hither too; o'er Waves unknown,  
In his Black Ship, from Cuma's ancient Town!  
No glutting Wealth, no Joys too great to bear,  
Forced him for refuge to a Foreign Air:  
But Need and Gold, and all the Meager Train  
That Jove sends down to punish sinful Men.  
Near Helicon he fixed his last Retreat,  
In paltry Ascra's miserable Seat.  
With Winter Storms, and Summer Suns oppressed;  
And never sit to lodge an Human Guest.   
By this we find that his Family (as well as Homer's) was originally of Cuma in Aeolia, now Faio Nova, about Thirty Six Miles North of 
a Baudrand Geogr. in Cuma.  Smyrna. Whence his Father removed to Ascra, a little pitiful Village of Baeocia, just by the Mountain Helicon. The Names of his Father and Mother we must learn from some other Intelligence. And Suidas tells us they were Dius and Pycimene; and that he went with them very Young in their Voyage to Ascra.  
His Father seems to have thrived a little better in Ascra, than he did in his own Country. Yet poor Hesiod could arrive at no higher employment, than to keep Sheep on the top of Helicon. In this condition, the Muses met with him, and took him into their Service: if we'll believe his own relation of the Adventure. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
They taught their Hesiod first the Reeds to tune,  
Feeding his Flock on Heavenly Helicon.  
In words like these the Daughters of High Jove,  
Olympu's fairest Guests declared their Love.  
‛ Swains, that all Night can on a Mountain dream,  
‛ And love your Belly, but neglect your Fame.  
‛ We are the Maids that Sacred Truths reveal,  
‛ Or dress sweet Fictions, till they ●ass as well.  
Thus spoke th' Immortal Sisters, and bestowed,  
A Sceptre on their Slave, a Laurel Rod,  
Plucked from their greenest Tree, and in the fairest Bud.  
Opening, at one strange Prospect, to my Mind,  
What Scenes of Time had passed, and what pressed on behind.  
Gave me a Voice Divine, and bade me grace  
Their Native Heaven; and sing th' eternal Race.  
But most themselves: adorning with their Name  
My earliest Labours, and my latest Theme.   
The main part of this Story has been thought an Allegory, designed to intimate, that Hesiod sleeping one day, as he describes, happened to dream, that Nine young Maids came and fed him with Laurel Berries. Whence, in that superstitious Age, it being inferred that he was particularly chosen by Heaven to be an excellent Poet: He lest his Profession of a Shepherd, and applied himself wholly to Arts and Learning; in order to the improving of the Divine Gift, which he had received after so extraordinary a manner 
a Tzetzes Scholar in Hesiod. p. 2. Ed. Heins. . But perhaps it might be no more than a piece of Poetical Vanity; under which notion it is scouted by Lucian in a whole Dialogue 
b pag. 926. Edit. Bourdelot. . And Ovid seems to have had much the same opinion of the Business, when in the entrance on his Art of Love, declaring the truth and sincerity he intended to use, he says, 
Non ego, Phoebe, datas à te mihi mentiar arts,  
Nec nos aëriae voce monemur avis.  
Nec mihi sunt visae Clio, Cliùsque sorores,  
Servanti pecudes vallibus Ascra tuis.  
Phoebus, I boast no Gift by thee conferred,  
I hear no Counsels of a Whistling Bird.  
I ne'er was courted by the tuneful Maids,  
Driving my Sheep to Ascra's Rural Shades.   
Ovid indeed might have spared so unkind a reflection, since he himself took the same course in the exactest of his Works the Fasti: Where sometimes his Muse, sometimes Old Janus, sometimes Mars himself, are brought in, talking familiarly with the Poet: And yet this Conduct is generally looked on as a very great Beauty to the Design.  
Virgil was more favourable in his Judgement of a Person to whom he was so much obliged. And therefore, only turning the Rod of Laurel into a set of Pastoral Reeds, he takes occasion from this Story to pass the highest Compliment in the World on Hesiod; at the same time paying his respects to the Name of Old Linus, and referring the whole Design to the Honour of his Patron Gallus. 
Ut Linus, haec illi, divino carmine Pastor,  
Floribus, atque apio crines ornatus amaro,  
Dixerit: hos tibi daunt, calamos, en accipe, Musae,  
Ascraeo quos ante seni, quibus ille solebat  
Cantando rigidas deducere montibus ornos. 
Eclog. 6.   
How Linus, now deputed by the Throng,  
Master Divine of Pipes and Rural Song;  
His Hair with Flowers, and parsley Chaplets pressed,  
Their Hero's Welcome, and their Vows expressed.  
‛ These Reeds the Muses to Your Lips commend;  
‛ The same they lent their Old Ascraean Friend.  
‛ By whom inspired, Descending Trees they led  
 mix in Chorus with the Flocks he fed.   
When the Old Man was dead, Hesiod divided the Stock that was left, with his Brother Perses. But Perses by corrupting the Judges got half of Hesiod's share. This injustice was so far from provoking the Poet to any resentment; that instead of bewailing his own hard Fortune, he only picied those poor mistaken Mortals, who did not know that the Arts of Moderation and Contentment could baffle the Philosopher's Maxim, and make Half more than the Whole. The Story is one of his own telling in the beginning of his ΕΡΓΑ addressed to his Brother; where he advises him to Labour and Industry as much a surer way to increase his Fortune, than attending on Courts of Law, and engaging in unjust suits. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Lately we met in Court, resolved to share  
Our Father's Stock; and prove our Title clear.  
When You the Bribe-devouring Judges greased,  
And with rude Hands one half my Portion seized,  
Unhappy they to whom God han't revealed,  
By a strong Light, which must their sense control,  
That half a Great Estate's more than the Whole!  
Unhappy, from whom still concealed does lie  
Of Roots and Herbs the wholesome Luxury! 
* Mr Cowley   This ΠΑΕΟΝ ΗΜΙΣΥ ΠΑΝΤΟΣ, is that Acute saying couched in the reverend Obscurity of an Oracle, which Mr. Cowley 
a See his Discourses, pag. 102.  so much admired.  
There are scarce any other Passages of his Life, but what we are Strangers to. Only, it's generally agreed, he took up with a solitary Retreat in the Country; professing always an extreme aversion to public business, and desirous of nothing more than to live peaceably and comfortably, and to enjoy the useful favours of his Muse. Whence 
b Hist. Lib. 1. cap. 7.  Paterculus calls him Otii quietisque cupidissimus, making Ease and Quietness his chief Wishes and Designs.  
The Story of his Contest with Homer, tho' 
c Sympos. Lib. 5, Probl. 2.  Plutarch reckons it among the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Old obsolete stuff; yet occurs too frequently to be quite neglected. It happened, they say, at the Public Funeral of Amphidamus the Chalcidian: when the Glory of the two Renowned Poets striking the Judges with such a Reverence, as made the Prize very doubtful; at last they came to proposing odd Questions, and Homer began with 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
Muse tell the Things that ne'er have been before,  
Nor shall hereafter be.—  To which Hesiod immediately Answered 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
When Jove's Great Tomb the Rival Coursers shook  
With Thundering Hoofs; and kindling Axes broke.  This put the Judges into a Fit of Wonder, and made them decree Hesiod the Tripos, which was the Reward of the Contention.  
Thus Periander gives the Relation in Plutarch's Banquet of the Seven Wise Men. Dion the Orator brings in Philip of Macedon and Alexander discoursing the same Point. The Young Prince professes himself to be mightily ravished with Homer. His Father tells him, how finely soever Homer wrote, yet he was conquered in his Art by honest Hesiod, and asks him if he never heard of those two Verses which Hesiod inscribed on the Tripos, when he dedicated it to the Muses on Mount Helicon. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
THIS Hesiod to the Nymphs of Helicon:  
In Chalcis, by his Song, from Heavenly Homer won.   
Alexander grants the Story, and says, that Hesiod might well get the Victory, when Kings were not Judges of the Prize, but Plowmen and ignorant Rustics 
a Dion Chrysostom. pag. 20.   
From this inscribed Epigram 
a A. Gell. Lib. 3. cap. 11.  Marcus Varro concluded Homer and Hesiod to be Cotemporaries. And Philostratus 
b In Heroic. in Euphorb.  made the same Inference. Who adds farther, that Panides King of Chalcis was chief Arbiter of the Trial. Whence we meet with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
c Erasm. Adag. pag. 429.  among the Old Proverbs, for a foolish Vote, or Decision. From the Tradition of this Adventure, Lucian, without doubt, took the Hint; when in his True History, reckoning up the several Contentions in all Arts, at a famous Festival in the Isle of Heroes, he says pleasantly, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
d Pag. 399. Edit. Bourdelet.  As for the Poets, to say the Truth, Homer had much the better on't; and yet, at the same time, Hesiod was the Victor.  
He had the same Chance, as Homer, in not being taken into the Favour and Patronage of any Prince or Great Man 
e Pausanias' Attic. p. 3. : but on a different Account. For Homer's rambling kind of Life, may be supposed to have deprived Him of that Advantage. Whereas, Hesiod, being wholly intent on the Pleasures and the Innocence of a Plain Countriman's Condition; seems not so properly to have missed of those Honours, as to have contemned them.  
In the latter part of his Life, he removed to Locris, a Neighbouring Town of the Phoceans, about the same distance from Mount Parnassus, as his Ascra was from Helicon.  
The Story of his Death, is thus told by Solon in Plutarch's Feast of the Seven Wise Men.  The Man that Hesiod lived with at Locris, a Miletian born, happened to ravish a Maid in the same House. Hesiod was entirely ignorant of the matter; yet, upon some envious Accusation being charged as Privy to the Design, and to the Concealment of it; the Maid's Brothers barbarously murdered him, together with a Companion of his, named Troilus; throwing their Bodies into the Sea. The Body of Troilus stopped within a little time at a Rock, which took the Name of Troilus from that Accident, and keeps it ever since. But Hesiod's Body, as soon as ever it lighted on the Water, was received by a Shoal of Dolphins, and carried, close by the Promontory Rhion, to the City Molicria. The Locrians were at that time engaged in holding a solemn Feast near Rhion; the same which is still celebrated with so much Pomp and Splendour. Seeing a floaring Carcase they ran woadring to the Shoar; and perceiving it to be the Body of Hesiod newly slain, they thought themselves, obliged to find out the Murderers of a Person whem they so much honoured. Their search was very successful; and having laid hold on the Wretches who had committed the Fa●… they threw them alive into the Sea, and afterwards demolished their Houses. The Remains of Hesiod were deposited in Nemeion, and his Tomb is unknown to most Strangers: Being concealed upon account of the Orchomenians, who, upon advice of some Oracle or other, have always had a Design to steal away the Relics, and to bury them in their own Country. 
Pausanias 
a 〈…〉 ●…otic. p. 5●…  tells as, that, when the Orchomenians were thus commanded by the Oracle, to bring Hesiod's Bones into their Country, as the only means to remove a Pestilence that raged among them: they did find them, and actually bring them home.  
'Tis a common Observation and Complaint of Learned Men that we have no Reiques of the Genuine Simplicity and Purity, which made the Old Grecians so famous, except what we meet with in the Works of Homer and Hesiod: And that the Excellency of the latter Pieces is more owing to the lustre of Artificial Ornaments, than to the Charms of Native Beauty. On this account the admirable Vida, has fixed the Times of Homer and those immediately following, as the Golden and the Silver Ages of Poesy in Grece. 
Felice's, quos illa aetas, quos protulit illi Proxima!  
Happy, whom that Auspicious Age inspired!  
Happy the next; and to be next admired!  Indeed Homer's Design was not so very capable of this simplicity, except in a few Places. And therefore he seems to have left that Palm almost untouched, to Hesiod, whose Subjects as well as his Genius lead him to Plainness and Gravity.  
We meet with the Titles of a great Number of Pieces ascribed to Hesiod, up and down in Pausanias, Eunapius, Lucian, etc. all which are put together in a Catalogue by Lylius Gyraldus, in his Dialogues about the Poets. What we have at present, are, the Works and Days, Herculeses Shield, and the Theogony, or History of the Race and Birth of the Gods. The two last of which Poems, are hardly admitted for Genuine. Particularly the Theogony is as good as marked for Spurious by Pausanias himself. 
a Arcadic. p. 483.  Tho' that Historian, as Heinsius observes, seems in some measure to have betrayed his Cause, when he blames the Baeotians for making an Image of Hesiod with a Harp, were as He sung his Verses to a Rod of Laurel 
b Baeotic. p. 589. ; when, all the while, the Story of the Rod of Laurel, is in the present Theogony: and at the same time 
a Symposiac.  Plutarch assures us that Hesiod's EPTA used to be sung to the Harp.  
Manilius in the beginning of his second Book, has bestowed these high Lines on Hesiod and his Works. 
— Sed proximus illi  
Hesiodus memorat Divos, diuûmque parents,  
Et Chaos enixum terras, orbemque subillo  
Infantem, & primum titubantia sidera Corpus,  
Titanasque senes, Jovis & cunabula magni:  
Et sub fratre Viri nomen, sine fratre parentis;  
Atque iterum patrio nascentem corpore Bacchum;  
Omniaque immenso volitantia numina mundo.  
Quinetiam ruris cultus, legesque rogavit,  
Militiamque soli: quod collas Bacchus amaret,  
Quod fecunda Ceres campos; quod Bacchus utrumque  
Atque arbusta vagis essent quod adultera pomis:  
Silvarumque Deos, sacrataque Numina Nymphas,  
Pacis opus, magnos naturae condit in usus.  
Next Hesiod sings the God's Immortal Race,  
He sings how Chaos bore the Earthly Mass:  
How light from Darkness struck, did Beams display,  
And Infant Stars first staggered in their way.  
How Name of Brother veiled an Husband's Love,  
And Juno bore unaided by her Jove;  
How twice-born Bacchus burst the Thunderer's Thigh;  
And all the Gods that wander through the Sky.  
Hence He to Fields descends, manure's the Soil,  
Instructs the Ploughman, and rewards his toil:  
He sings how Corn in Plains, how Vines in Hills,  
Delight; how both with vast Increase the Olive fills:  
How Foreign Graffs th' Adulterous stock receives,  
Bears Stranger Fruit, and wonders at her Leaves.  
An useful Work, when Peace and Plenty reign,  
And Art joins Nature to improve the Plain 
* Mr. Creech .   
This account, tho' it seems to include no other Labours but the EPTA and the THEOGONY, yet agrees with neither of the Pieces which we now have, under those Names. For those fine things which the Latin Poet recount's about the Birth of the Gods, and the making of the World, are not so nearly allied to any passages in the present THEOGONY as to justify the allusion. And therefore till the late most Learned and Ingenious Translator of Manilius shall oblige us with his corrections of this place in a Latin Edition, it must be concluded; that either the Astronomer's Fancy has carried him beyond his Aim: or else, that Hesiod composed some other Poem of the Genealogy of the Gods, which might be extant in those Times.  
And then the other part of the Relation, which is taken up with describing the Arts of Planting cannot on any account, be referred to the EPTA, where that part of Husbandry is entirely wanting; or at least but slightly touched; If, after this we consider that Virgil proposed Hesiod 
* Ascraeumque cano Remana per oppida carmen.  for his Pattern in the second of his Georgics, which contains the Care of Trees, we may imagine that Hesiod wrote some other Pieces of Rustical Affairs, which Virgil might rather imitate; and that the EPTA and HMHPAI are not so properly a Treatise of Agriculture, as a Body of Oeconomics: a Point, which Daniel Hensius has written a long Discourse to prove.  
These EPTA and HMHPAI being the only unquestioned Work of Hesiod, as has been observed, must, to us, be the main Foundation of his Character and Esteem. It's true indeed, that Quintilian gives him the Palm only in med●o genere dicendi, in the Middle Style; yet it must be considered that his Subjects obliged him to rise no higher. And that too gave occasion to the Remark of Cleomenes the Spartan, that Homer was the Poet of the Lacaedemonians, and Hesiod of the Ilotes, or the Slaves: because the first taught the Art of War, and the other the Art of Husbandry. A saying much like that of Alexander the Great, that Homer was fit for Kings, and Hesiod only for Shepherds, Carpenters and Ploughman.  
Yet his Reputation need not be built on a better bottom, than the success of those Pieces: where the sweet and easy plainness of Style; that Air of the Gravest Virtue; those Fables pleasantly told and usefully applied; together with that inestimable Treasure of unaffected Moral Precepts, will always justify and secure that Elegy which Paterculus and Plutarch so long since gave him, of being the next Poet to Homer, as well in the value of his Works, as in the Period of his Age.   

 depiction of Anacreon 
ANACREON.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in nomismate aereo   
ANACREON.  
ANacreon was born at Teos 
a Strab. Lib. 13. Suid.  in jonia; which was the reason of his using that Dialect in his Works. He is commonly placed about the 62d Olympiad, under Polycrates, the Prince or (as they called it then) the Tyrant of Samos, with whom he is said to have been highly in favour. We can't expect many particulars of his Life, because he seems to have been a professed Despiser of all Business and Concerns of the World. And since he designed his whole Age merely for one Merry Fit, it were rather a Piece of Civility than of Injustice in the World, to let it be entirely forgotten.  
Thus far we may be certain, that Wine and Love, had the disposal of all his Hours. And if to divert himself, he engaged in so delightful a Study as Poetry; perhaps his intention was, rather to pay his Respects to some other Deities than to compliment the Muses. Ovid himself, tho' one of the freest Livers upon Record, yet could censure Anacreon's Verses, as of a loser humour than his own. 
Quid nisi cum multo Venerem confundere vino,  
Praecepit Lyrici Teia Musa Senis?  
Venus with Bacchus madly to confound  
Was all the Wise Advice the Teian Lyre could sound.   
His Tippling was as famous in the World as his Poetry: And, when we sinned his Statue in Pausanias 
a Lib. 1.  habited like a Lyric Professor; we hear at the same time, that it was better distinguished by the postures of a Drunkard.  
As to the other part of his Profession Love: He appears to have been equally enamoured of both Sexes; and to have shown as great a Veneration for Cupid, as he did for Venus. 
b Var. Hist. Lib. 9 cap. 4.  Elian indeed is very angry, if we suspect Anacreon of any dishonesty toward the Train of fine Boys whom he admired. But the General Cry runs so loud against the Poet in this Point: that there's no need of his own 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to prove that he loved his Minions on no better account than he did his Mistresses.  
Hermesianax, as he is cited in 
a Lib. 13. p. 598.  Athenaeus, gives an account of Anacreon's Amours with Sapph. But Athenaeus himself refutes the Story; by observing that Sapph and Anacreon could not possibly be Cotemporaries; the Lady living under Alyattes Father to Croesus and the Gentleman under Cyrus and Polycrates. But 'tis grown a Common Wish, that they had flourished in the same Age and Country; and had by some nearer Relation, improved the happy agreement of their Temper and of their Wit.  
Anacreon was famous for one Quality, not very ordinary with Poets, that of despising Money, when he could get it. For they tell a memorable Story, that when Polycrates had made him a Present of five Talents, he could not get a Minutes Sleep in two Nights after; so that, not being willing to lose his Rest in so bad a Cause, he fairly carried back the Treasure; and told his Patron, that however Considerable the Sum might be, it was not an equal Price for the trouble of keeping it.  
We don't hear that he was much gi●… 〈◊〉 ●…ambling: Only Plato 
b Hipparch.  informs us that when Hipparchus Son to the Tyrant Pisistratus, invited him to Athens, and sent a Vessel on purpose to convey him; he accepted the Honour and made a Voyage to that Court.  
The same Philosopher who gives this Relation, in another place 
c Phaedr.  does Anacreon the Honour to Style him 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 The Wise Anacreon. Which is the Foundation of Monsieur Fontanelle's ingenious Dialogue, where he brings in Anacreon and Aristotle disputing the Prize of Wisdom; and gives the Advantage to the Poet.  
What became of him after the Athenian Voyage, or where He passed his last Minutes is not on record. But, as his own Verses confess his Great Age, (tho' not the effects of it) so Lucian reckons him among the Long-livers, allowing him Fourscore and Five Years.  
The manner of his Death was very extraordinary. For they tell us, he was choked with an unlucky Grapestone, which slipped down, as he was regaling on some new Wine 
a Plin. Nat. Hist. l. 7. c. 7. Val, Max. l. 8. c. 13. . This remarkable End, altogether as odd as his way of Life, has given an excellent Subject to his Successors in Poetry, Among the rest our Incomparable Mr. Cowley, who has so happily imitated the Style and Manner of Anacreon, has farther repaid his Obligations by honouring him with an Elegy in his own Strain. The Conclusion is very grave and serious, and the most Fortunate in the World for the occasion, 
It grieves me, when I see what Fate  
Does on the Best of Mankind wait,  
Poets ●… Lovers let them be;  
'Ti neither Love nor Poesy,  
Can a●…m against Death's smallest Dart  
The Poet's Head or Lover's Heart.  
But when their Life in its Decline  
Touches th' inevitable Line,  
All the World's Mortal to them then,  
And Wine is Aconite to Men.  
Nay in Death's Hand the Grapestone proves  
As strong as Thunder is in Jove's.   
If it be thought an Advantage to Anacreon that he should still enjoy his beloved Ease in spite of the Historians, who have been able only to transmit such short Memorials of his Actions; it cannot be esteemed a meaner Happiness that he has escaped the more dangerous disturbance of the Critics. Indeed both the Blessings, are in a great measure owing to himself; one to the Condition of his Life, the other to that of his Writings. For, as the careless and unconcerned freedom of his Manners hindered him from being drawn into the Business of the World, so the beautiful negligence and the sweet Gaeity of his Odes have kept them from ever forming an ungrateful Field for Learned Quarrels and Encounters.  
The Masters of Controversial Philology are utterly disappointed when Anacreon falls under their Canvas. He deprives them of all their Common Places of Talk. They can produce, no tedious Labours, on the Occasions of his Poems; because they were all perfect Humours. They can neither dispute what Examples he followed, nor who have followed his Example: because the Natural delicacy of his Pieces disdains a Copier, as much as it did a Pattern. Would they contend about his Numbers, or his Style; they are both too equal to found a difference. Or would they, as their last Refuge oppose one Excellency against another; the Virtues of his Poesy, are more closely united than those of the Moralists; and his Graces being all born together, it were unnatural to divide them. The nice Judges may safely please themselves, with admiring each a particular Beauty. One may celebrate the happy novelty of his thoughts: Another the agreeable fineness of his Turns; a third the moving softness of his Expressions; and many more declare in favour, either of his Sublimity, or of his Justness, or of his Simplicity, or of his Musical Cadences; or of whatever they think touches them with most advantage. But were they all obliged to describe the Powers that had charmed them; they might very probably appear better Friends than they desired.  
For a General Character of Anacreon, Cupid who was the chief Hero of his Verses, has given the best account of their Worth: as Mr. Cowley has taught him to speak. 
All thy Verse is softer far,  
Than the downy Feathers are  
Of my Wings, or of my Arrows,  
Of my Mother's Doves, or Sparrows.  
Graceful, cleanly, smooth and round:  
All with Venus' Girdle bound.    

 depiction of Pindar 
PINDARUS  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in marmore   
PINDAR.  
WHatever attempts have been made for fixing the exact time of Pindar's Birth, are all demonstrated to be uncertain by the Great 
a Animadvers. ad Euseb. Numb. MDXXXI.  Scaliger: only thus much is clear, that it happened somewhat above Forty Years before the Expedition of Xerxes against Greece, and somewhat more than Five Hundred before our Saviour.  
The place of his Birth, which ought rather to have been forgot, stands firm enough on Record, and appears to have been Thebes the Capital City of Boeotia. A Country of so gross and heavy an Air, as to furnish Common talk with a Proverb for extreme stupidity. We find the Poet confessing this disadvantage of his Climate, but at the same time resolving to procure himself an exemption from the General Censure. For in the sixth Olympic he thus exhorts Aeneas, the Master of the Chorus that used to Sing his Verses, 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
And You. Aeneas, drive Your ready Choir;  
Let their first March be into Juno's Praise.  
And show the Wondering World, if ere my Lays  
Betray my Country's weaker Fire:  
If not with Justice I decline  
The Vulgar rude Reproach, a dull Baeotian Swine.   
Many will have him the Son of one Scopelinus a Piper, tho' the most credible Authorities name his Father Diaphantus 
a Vid. Suid. . On the Woman's side one Myrtis or Myrto, seems to have born the nearest relation to him, either as his Mother, or his Tutoress, or, perhaps, as both. His Nativity fell out just in the Solemnity of the Pythian Games 
b Plutarch Sympos. Lib. 8. Q. 1. : an Omen of the Honours they were afterwards to receive from his Verses. Philostratus makes the Nymphs to have danced at his Birth, and Pan himself to have leaped awkerdly about for Joy: who (if we believe the same Story) when the Poet was grown up, and set to Writing, left off his Antic Sports, and employed himself in singing the new Compositions 
a Philostrat. in Icon. p. 798. .  
Julius Firmicus the Astronomer, has taken the pains to erect Pindar's Horoscope; and demonstrates from the Stars that he was designed by Heaven for a Divine Master in the Lyric Strain. But because the happy site of his Planets was not likely to be so well understood; they tell us, he was honoured with a clearer Token of his destined Greatness. For sleeping one day in the Fields, while a little Boy, the Bees came and fed him with their Honey 
b Pausan. in Baeotic. p. 575. : which passes for the occasion of his first applying himself to Poetry.  
It seems probable that the Circumstances of his Birth and Fortune, could not afford him any extraordinary Advantages of Education: And therefore 'tis his prodigious Natural Genius which always holds the first place in his Character. He himself was very sensible of the kindness of Heaven in thus providing for him, and knew there was as much difference between himself and his drudging Rivals, as between the easiness of Nature and the Pains of Art. Hence he bravely compares them to the base Crows, and Himself to the Generous Eagle in the Second Olympic. 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Art lives on Nature's Alms; is weak and poor:  
Nature herself has inexhausted store,  
Wallows in Wealth, and runs a turning Maze,  
That no Vulgar Eye can trace.  
Art, instead of mounting high,  
About her Humble Food does hover fly,  
Like the ignoble Crow, rapine and noise does love,  
Whilst Nature like the Sacred Bird of Jove,  
Now bears loud Thunder, and anon with silent joy  
The beauteous Phrygian Boy.  
Defeats the strong, o'ertakes the flying Prey;  
And sometimes bask's in th' open Flames of Day,  
And sometimes too he shrowds  
His soating Wings among the Clouds. 
Mr. Cowley.    
We have little account of his way of Life, only we are informed in general, that he was highly courted and respected by the greatest part of the Princes and the States of Greece. One would think they really believed him something more than a Mortal, when we find them allowing him a share with the Gods in their Gifts and Offerings. But 'tis a much nobler Praise, that this was done by Command of the Oracle itself. For, it seems, the Officiating Prophetess at Delphi, strictly ordered the People, to give a part of their First-fruits (which they brought thither,) as a Present to Pindar 
a Pausan. in Baeotic. p. 575. . He had an Iron Stool set on purpose for him in that Temple, which remained a long time after; upon which he used to sit, and sing his Verses in honour of Apollo 
b Pausan. in Phocic. p. 656. .  
His Countrymen the Thebans had an unlucky grudge against him, upon account of his commending their Mortal Enemies the Men of Athens: which not only rendered them unequal favourers of his Glory; but provoked them to Fine him, for his Public Affront to the State. But the Generous Athenians at the same time made him a Present, double in value to what he had been amerced; and honoured him with a noble Statue, when his own City refused him that Piece of Respect 
a Aeschines. Epist. 4. .  
Perhaps this ill-will of the Magistracy under whom he lived, might be the chief reason of his poor success at a Contention in Verse at Thebes, where he lost the Prize to a Woman, the ingenious Corinna. Pausanias says, the Judges declared in her favour, because she addressed them in their own Dialect; whereas they were not so well acquainted with the Doric Style of Pindar 
b Pausan. in Baeotic. p. 574. . Without doubt, besides all this, her Beauty had some Influence in the Cause; since we are assured she carried away that Prize too, from all the Ladies of her Time 
c Ibid. .  
His Noblest Patron was the Famous King Hiero of Syracuse, whom he has consecrated in so many Pieces. And he should seem to have left Thebes to attend on the Court of that Prince. For composing the Second Pythique in his Honour, and addressing himself to the Syracusians, he says 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
To you from fertile Thebes I come,  
Laden with Verse.—  But perhaps this might be spoken only in the Person of those who went to Syracuse to sing his Hymn, at the Feast held there after Hiero's Victory. For when he wrote the third Pythique, he was still in his own Country: in regard that he tells Hiero who was then Sick of the Stone, that, could he raise up old Chiron from the Dead by his Verses, he would come, and bring him along with him, through the Ionian Sea into Sicily.  
It's likely he passed his whole Age in the Ease commonly allowed to Men of his Profession; not aspiring to give his Country any other Service than that of his Muse. We find him defending his way of Life in the Seventh Isthmique, and declaring why he rather followed this Course, than applied himself to Arms or serious Business. 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
Nor You, Ye Blessed Immortals, with Disdain  
Look on an Idle Poet, than can raise  
Equal to You his Warrior's Praise,  
Yet kindly with himself dispense,  
Scorning to owe his Wit to grosser Sense:  
Untaught by Sight, can paint the Bloody Scene,  
And, without Feeling, Consecrate the Pain.  
That he his silent Track of Life pursue's,  
Averse to Glorious Noise, and Martial Rage;  
And begs the daily favours of his Muse,  
And courts the easy steps of Gaysom Age;  
He owe's to You, and Your eternal Book:  
From Your sure Hands the Bend he took.  
For not alone the last sad Minutes of our Date  
Attend Your Nod, to turn them into Fate;  
But the same Nod, but the same Sacred Power  
Points out the different Paths in which we move;  
Shows what we ought to Hate, and what to Love;  
And to its proper Use chains up each flying Hour.   
His Death was the effect of his own Wishes. For having prayed the Gods to send him the greatest Happiness a Mortal was capable of; He is said immediately after, to have expired suddenly in the Theatre, leaning on the Knees of a Young Boy that he admired: according to Suidas, being then Fifty Five Years Old. Tho' the exact time of his Death is as uncertain as that of his Birth.  
They tell us that he made Verses even after he was Dead. For, as Pausanias gives the Relation 
a In Baeotic. p. 575. , fancying one Night in his latter Time that he saw Proserpina coming to him, complaining that she was the only Deity he had left uncelibrated: Deceasing about ten days after, he appeared to an Old Gentlewoman that was related to him, and sung her an Hymn in honour of Proserpina; which the Good Woman preserved in Writing.  
It's a Story generally known, that of Alexander the Greats' saving Pindar's House (as the Lacedæmonians had done before) when he took Thebes, and entirely razed the rest of the City. But the reason of this Honourable Act is not so well understood. Alexander indeed professed a high respect for Pindar's Writings in general; and made it one of his chiefest Pleasures to read them. But this Piece of Generosity appears to have had a Foundation nearer home. For it seems Pindar had celebrated one of Alexander's Family and Name; and had the happiness to put a Compliment on the very Name; by accosting the Gentleman with 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
a Dion Chrysostom, Orat. 2. p. 25.   
Thou Namesake to the Happy Greeks.  The Ruins of Pindar's House were to be seen at Thebes, in Pausanias' time 
a Baeotic. p. 578. : who lived under Antoninus the Philosopher.  
Of all the numerous Works which he is said to have composed, we have only his four Books of Hymns of Triumph, on the Conquerors at the four Renowned Games of Greece; the Olympian, the Pythian, the Nemaean and the Isthmian. It seems 'twas a common thing to hire Pindar for this service, and no Victory was thought complete till it had the approbation of bis Muse. To which purpose there is one particular Story on Record: that when Pytheas had gained the Prize in the Nemaean Games, at Wrestling, and at the Caestus, his Friends presently made their Application to Pindar, to procure an Ode in his Honour. But the Poet demanding so large a Reward as Three (or rather Three thousand) Drachms, they went away in a Huff, telling him that for that Price, they could purchase their Friend's Statue in Copper. However, upon better consideration they attended Pindar again, renewing their suit and offering to gratify him as he desired. Upon which occasion he began the Ode (which is the fifth Nemaean) after this manner 
c Grac. Scholar . 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc.  
Not the Dull Statuarie's Art,  
To form dead Figures, and to place  
On moveless Pedestals the lumpish Mass,  
Can boast to have engaged my Heart.  
But the blessed Muse, that, with a Nobler Power,  
In polished Verse can Carve a Conqueror,  
Her Labours to no Basis stand confined,  
Tamely expecting Fame:  
But sly through every Coast on every Wind;  
And to sure Glory bear the Hero's Name.   
His Poems are of so difficult a Character, that the Greatest Judges are commonly satisfied with confirming his General Title of Prince and Father of Lyriques; without engaging in the search of his particular Excellencies. For, that prodigious elevation of Spirit, that amazing Beauty of Sentences, that boundless scope of Thought, and that daring Liberty of Figures and of Measures, are as likely to deter a Critic as an Imitator. His Pegasus, as Mr. Cowley says, Flings Writer and Reader too that sits not sure.  
Horace, tho' he appeared his most dangerous Rival, yet had generosity enough to give him his just Commendations, as he had Judgement enough to six them on a due bottom. From Horace therefore, especially since he has been improved by Mr. Cowley, we are to take our true notions of the Genius and the Style of Pindar. Hor. Od. 2. Lib. 4. 
Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari, I—  
— ule ceratis epe Daedaleâ  
Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus  
Nomina ponto.  
Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres  
Quem super notas aluere ripas  
Fervet, immensusque ruit prosundo  
Pindarus or●.  
Laureâ donandus Apollina●…  
Seu per audaces nova ●●thyrambos  
Verba devolvit, numerisque fertur  
Lege solutis:  
Seu deos regesque canit, deorum  
Sanguinem, per quos c●cidere justâ  
Morte Centauri, cecidit tremendae  
Flamma Chimaerae.  
Sive quos Elea domum reducit  
Palma caelestes: pugilemve equumve  
Dicit, & centum potiore signis  
Munere donat.  
Flebili sponsae juvenemve raptum  
Plorat: & vires animumque mores—  
— que aureos educit in astra, nigro—  
— que in videt Orco.  
Multa Dircaeum levat aura Lygnum,  
Tendit, Antoniuses quoties in altos  
Nubium tractus—  

I  
PINDAR is imitable by none;  
The Phoenix Pindar is a vast Species alone.  
Who e'er but Daedalus with waxed Wings could sly.  
And neither sink too low, nor soar too high?  
What could he who followed claim,  
But of vain Boldness the unhappy fame;  
And by his fall a Sea to name?  
Pindar's unnavigable Song  
Like a swollen Flood from some steep Mountain pours along:  
The Ocean meets with such a Voice  
From his enlarged Mouth, as drown's the Ocean's noise.   

II.  
So Pindar does new Words and Figures roll  
Down his impetuous Dithyrambique Tide,  
Which in no Channel design's t' abide,  
Which neither Banks nor Dikes control,  
Whether th' Immortal Gods he sing's,  
In a no less Immortal Strain,  
Or the great Acts of God descended Kings,  
Who in his Numbers still survive and reign.  
Each rich embroidered line  
Which their triumphant Brows around  
By his Sacred Hand is bound,  
Does all their Starry Diadems outshine.   

III.  
Whether at Pisa's race he please  
To Carve in polished Verse the Conquererors' Images:  
Whether the Swift, the Skilful or the Strong,  
Be crowned in his Nimble, Artful, Vigorous Song:  
Whether some brave Young Man's untimely Fate,  
In words worth Dying for he celebrate;  
Such Mournful and such Pleasing words,  
As Joy to ' his Mother's, and his Mistress Grief affords:  
He bids him Live and Grow in Fame,  
Among the Stars, he sticks his Name:  
The Grave can but the Dross of him devour,  
So small is Death's, so great the Poet's power.   

iv  
Lo, how th' obsequious Wind, and swelling Air  
The Theban Swan does upwards bear  
Into the Walks of Clouds, where he does play,  
And with extended Wings opens his liquid way!   Mr. Cowley.  
Monsieur Perrault in his late Parralel, as he has managed the Charge against all the Celebrated Authors of Antiquity, so he has been particularly severe upon Pindar; and given him less Quarter than the rest. He censures him as a speaker of impenetrable Galimathies (or extravagant flights) such as no Man could ever underst and, and such as Horace slily scouted when he called him inimitable. In short, to keep on his Custom of beginning with bold strokes, he declares the first Verses in the first Ode to be unaccountable Nonsense; and from that Specimen would have us frame our Notions of all the rest.  
The most admirable Boileau, who in his Reflections on Longinus, has done Perrault the honour of a Confutation; is pleased to set this passage in its true light, and to make it so clear, as even his Adversary might understand it. He tells us, we must remember that Pindar lived in the next times to Thales, Pythagoras and Anaxagoras, the Famous Natural Philosophers; who had taught with so great success. The Opinion of Thales, who made Water the first Principle of Things was in particular esteem. Now Empedocles the Sicilian, Scholar to Anaxagoras, and Cotemporary with Pindar, had carried matters farther than any of them: and had not only penetrated very deep into the Knowledge of Nature, but (as Lucretius afterwards did) had adorned the whole Science in Verse. This Poem raised his Character to such a pitch in Greece, that they scarce thought him of Mortal Descent. The entire Work has long since perished; but there's a Tradition that it began with the praises of the Elements; and 'tis not likely the formation of Gold and other Metals should be left untouched. Now Pindar being to compose his first Olympic Ode in honour of King Hiero, who had won the Prize at the Horse-race, gins with the most simple and the most natural thought in the World. That, if he were inclined to sing of the Wonders of Nature, then in imitation of Empedocles, he would celebrate Water ●nd Gold, as the two most excellent and most useful ●hings that we enjoy. But, that, having consecrated ●is Muse to the Praises of Men, he resolved to illustrate the Olympic Games, which were the Noblest Exercises of Mankind. And that to say there was any other Contest so Noble as the Olympic, was the same thing, as to pretend that there was some other Luminary in Heaven of equal Glory with the Sun. This is Pindar's thought in its Natural order, and as a Rhetorician would have expressed it in exact Prose: let us see now how Pindar has set it off in Verse. 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  There's nothing so excellent as Water: There's nothing more resplendent than Gold; which distinguishes itself among proud Riches, like Fire that blazes in the Night. But, O my Friendly Genius, since thou art most delighted to sing of Combats; don't thou imagine, that in the mighty Void of Heaven when Day appears, there can be discovered any other Luminary so radiant as the Sun; or that on Earth we can say there's any other Contest so Noble as the Olympic.  
This Translation is almost word for word; at lest nothing new is introduced except [on Earth] which the Sense naturally required. And tho' 'tis not expected that the beauty of the Original should be discovered in such a dry Copy; because that consists in a great measure in the Numbers, the Disposition and the Magnificence of the Words, yet there is some shadow of Majesty and Nobleness preserved under this plain Dress. But now it's worth while to see what a strange disguise the same substance bears in Perraults Version. L'eau est tres bonne à la veritê, & l' or qui brille comme le feu durant la nuit, é clate merveilleusement parmy les richesses' qui rendent l' homme superbe. Mais mon esprit, si tu desires chanter les combats, ne contemple point d' autre astre plus lumineux que le soleil pendant le jour, dans le vague de l' air; car nous ne scaurions chanter de combats plus illustres que le combats Olympiques 
a Parallel. 1. p. 19 . Truly Water's a very good thing, and Gold which glitters, as Fire in the Night, sparkle's wonderfully among Riches that make Men proud. But thou, my Genius, if thou desirest to sing of Combats, don't look on any other Star more radiant than the Sun, in the Day time along the empty Air. But, we don't know how to sing of any Encounters more Noble than the Olympics.  
Either this is designed merely for a Piece of Burlesque: and then Pindar's Character is in no Danger of suffering by it: or else the Translator has shamefully forgot his Greek when he gravely renders the little expletives; which were never intended to enter the Construction. But, not to insist on dat failings, the thing which spoils the whole Sense of the passage, is what ignorance itself could scarce suggest, but what must be rather owing to insincerity; and and that is, the turning the Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and the Latin ne, into the French car, or but; whence all the connexion and dependence is lost.  
So that, upon the whole matter the Galimathies and the unaccountable Nonsense, are not to be found in the Greek but in the French. And Perrault has shown no other mark of a Translator of Pindar, but that which Mr. Cowley speaks of, the knack of making People think, that one Madman has Translated another.  
If, after all, Perrault and his modish Followers should renew the Charge, and say, that there's as little Foundation for any Version, as for theirs; and that they cannot by any means understand the connexion here between the Water and the Gold and the Olympic Games; not to refer them to the Greek Scholia, which by their tedious Exposition may chance to countenance their obstinacy; they may be pleased to look so far as the latter end of the third Ode of the same Book; and then they will meet with the same Figure, and the same terms, more closely tied together. 
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As Water, first of things, maintains,  
It's useful Empire still, and widely reigns;  
As Sovereign Gold darts forth the noblest power  
Among the glittering tracks of Oar:  
So much the high Olympian Fame  
Darkens the Honours of a meaner Name.  
Thus Theron shines, and thus with happy Pace,  
Has reached the farthest Mark of Painful virtue's Race:  
Passing the Pillars of Herculean force;  
For here that Godlike Hero stopped his Course,  
These Sacred Games he chose to bond his Height;  
These Sacred Games were all the Pillars that he set.   
But it were well if the new Censors had a quarrel only against some particular places in Pindar. For indeed we find them laying a general Accusation against him, for little less than downright distraction. They build this scandal on his unaccountable Digressions and the furious rambles of his Wit. They think it the highest pitch of raving absurdity; while they see him addressing one of his Odes to some Great Man, and pretending to celebrate his Victory; when perhaps he presently runs off to some fabulous Adventure of the Gods or ancient Heroes, and scarce spares time to give his Patron a parting Compliment in the Conclusion. The common Answer to this Impeachment is drawn from the nature of Pindar's way of Writing: this Libertinism of Conduct being the very Life and Soul of his Pieces. On which account Monsieur Boileau 
a Art Poetic.  has fixed it as the ruling excellency of an Ode, that 
Son stile impetueux souvent march an hazard;  
Chex elle un beau desordre est un effect de l' Art.   
It's plain Pindar was sensible of his hardiness, in wand'ring so loosely from the main Subject. And therefore after a long heat of any foreign Story, we find him very often, reprehending his Muse for shooting any of her Arrows at Rovers, when he would have her empty all her Quiver on the chief mark. But this might not be with design to beg pardon, but to show his skill. For, as he took an extraordinary delight in using this Metaphor of Quiver and Arrows for his Wit, so 'twas his Privilege, to let (as Mr. Cowley expresses it) 
— his Wanton Arrows fly  
At all the Game that did but cross his Eye.  In his Tenth Pythique he pleads his Title to this Liberty, at large; comparing his Spirit and Wit to a Boat, as he does often to a Chariot, a Bird, and the like. He introduces the Apology by his usual sleight of correcting his Muse's fury, and advising Her to Caution and Regularity. 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Hold, Muse, thy heedless Oar,  
Fly to the Deck, and the quick Anchor cast;  
And stop the Vessel's fatal haste,  
And miss the Rocks to which her giddy Head she bore.  
Thy Bark, that scorns a meaner Freight,  
Than Songs of Triumph and exalted Praise,  
Is built for Pleasure and for State,  
And runs no settled Course, and in no Channel stays.  
Like the Gay Bee she spread's her Silken Wings;  
Robbing, with hasty dip each Flowers she meets,  
No single Prize to Port the wanton Pirate bring's,  
But forms with various Spoils her Golden Sweets.   
But indeed, it is a kind of begging the Question, to make Pindar plead his Prerogative for the decision of this Cause. To say, that 'twas the manner or the way of those Odes to be so bold and so Licentious, while this manner, or this way is the very thing that the Adversaries complain of. But if it could be tolerably made out, that besides the hardy freedom of his Genius, he was upon account of his Subjects, in a great measure obliged to this Conduct; then the Cavil must necessary fall, or at least be transferred from the Poet to the Times. Yet, upon a fair Hearing, this would be no difficult Task. For we ought to consider that these Odes of Victory were all composed to be sung by a Chorus of Men at Public Festivals and Meetings, assisted with the advantages of Instrumental Music. If any question the truth of this Assertion, Pindar himself will satisfy them, in almost every Piece. But in the 10th of the Olympiques he will give them an account how the Custom of these Panegyrical Hymns came to be introduced, and how he designs to carry it on. He has been describing the Institution of the Olympian Games by Hercules, and reckoning up the Victories in the several Exercises at their first Celebration. Whom, when their Labours were finished, he makes to have been thus entertained. 
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And now with beauteous Face, the Lovely Moon  
That had in secret viewed the Fight,  
Spread round the Combatants her Evening Light:  
As if she would have formed their Crown,  
Or held her Glittering Token out to show their work was done.  
When strait, in decent Order placed,  
The Generous Gallants crowd the Feast.  
While cheerful Arts of various Harmony  
First on themselves their forces try;  
And Charm each other to unite  
Their Voice, to reach the Victor's height;  
And piercing Echoes round the hollow Temple fly.  
And we the Glorious Custom will revive,  
And keep successful Worth alive:  
Our Hymns shall raise the Sacred Conquest's Fame,  
The Sacred Conquests in return shall lend our Hymns their Name.  
And Jove, Great Patron of the Games, shall stand  
High in the Front, and all our Lays command.  
Th' Almighty Ensigns of his Power,  
On their Red Wings of Lightning born,  
Through the Wide Vast of boundless Verse shall roar:  
The Muse may play with those dread Arms secure;  
The Muse her Father's shafts may catch and may return.  
Nor with presumptuous Pride will we rely  
On strength of Voice, or sound of Lawless Strain;  
But Strain and Voice shall with the Pipe comply,  
The Pipe's sweet ruling Note shall Tune our wilder Vein.   
Now it would have been an invidious, as well as a tiresome business, to fill a Hymn that was designed for General Entertainment, with the direct Praises of a single Man: and, now and then, of a Man, not very eminent on any other account, but for his good Fortune in winning the Prize at some of the Public Exercises. But the Old Relations of the Acts of Heaven and Heavenborn Heroes, were what every Body longed for and admired; especially when they heard them given with new improvements of Wit and Language. Therefore, as to this Conduct, Pindar's Enemies ought rather to admire the strength of his Judgement, than rail at the Wildness of his Fancy. And especially, since, whatever they may pretend, his Digressions are seldom forced in without occasion. The Gods or Consecrated Heroes do not intrude themselves uncivilly into a Poem where they are not concerned. The Gentleman whom Pindar particularly addresses, has commonly some near relation to them: They are either the Founders of his City, or of his Family, or the Institutors of the Games in which he has Conquered: Or famous for some of those Virtues, which the Poet celebrates in his Patron.  
But the trouble might have been spared of attempting formally to answer these two Objections. For, as silly or malicious Accusers generally spoil their whole Charge by endeavouring to heighten and increase it; so the same nice Palates, which cannot relish Pindar on the scores already mentioned, plainly show where the Distemper lies, by adding a farther Reason of their Disgust. Their formidable Champion Perrault is not ashamed to bring this as an Argument of the little Merit of Pindar's Works, that their chief Use is to furnish Great Readers and Collectors with a stock of Moral Sentences. And now we may appeal to any one, whether Envy has not been very unhappy, to pitch on an unquestioned Virtue for a Crime. For till Profit and Instruction are denied to be the main ends of Poetry; Pindar, even according to this Judgement, has a fair Title at least to half the Laurels; while he is acknowledged to advance the Work of Virtue in the World.  
Indeed, if a Man considered carefully our ignorance in those things which were the foundation of Pindar's Writings, the various Ceremonies of the Games, and the particularities of Times, Persons and Places; besides our weak Notions of his Language and Numbers: he would be apt to six his Morality, for a much surer as well as a much Nobler Praise than what we can pretend at this distance to build on the excellencies of his Manners and of his Style. That will turn to Use when these are only admired. If we can't copy the Beauties of his Fancy we may improve by the strength of his Wisdom, to which his Fancy lent its Charms. If his Spirit of Poetry disdain to be within our reach, his Spirit of Honesty and Goodness will admit a more easy Imitation: And tho' we cannot soar beyond the Clouds, with his Wit; we may make a nobler Flight, by the assistance of his Piety.  
Now not to make a Catalogue of all the excellent Passages we meet with in Pindar, concerning the different Estate of Good and Bad Men after this Life, the just inequality of the Distributions of Providence, and the incapacity of Men to judge of the Actions of Heaven; with the Wise Lessons on almost every particular Virtue: How Glorious it looks in an Heathen Poet, to protest against that dangerous Vice of his Art, the delivering unworthy Stor●●s about the Sovereign Being's? Yet this is Pindar's settled Maxim in his very first Ode, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
A Mortal with strict awe should name  
The Heavenly Powers that grace his Theme;  
And only on their Virtues dwell:  
Their Virtues will excuse  
The Pious Tales we tell;  
And from Presumption free the harmless Muse.   
And presently after, he professes his abhorrence of charging the Gods with the Crimes of Men. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
But O forbidden it Heaven that I  
Should charge Your Happy Guests with Brutish Gluttony!   
In the Ninth Olympic he gives his Muse a Caution, of the same strain of Piety 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
But strifes, and Wars, and Bloody Feats,  
Move far, Ye Muses from th' Immortal Seats.   
And farther we find him 
a Olymp. 1.  declaring positively that he will give the Old Relations quite different from all that w●●t before him, rather than suffer any dishonour to be reflected on the Divine Subjects.  
So that if on other accounts Pindar claims the Sovereignty, not only in his own Province of Lyriques, but over the Masters of all the different Strains, excepting Homer: in this point of pious decency (when we remember the severe Charge against the Iliad and the Odyssey for unworthily representing the Supreme Powers of Heaven) Homer himself might yield him the Precedency: And Horace might alter the modest Boast 
* Lib. 4. Ode. 9 
Non si priores Maeonius tenet  
Sedes Homerus, Pindaricae latent  
— Camoenae.   much to His Advantage; where he now assigns Homer the first Place in Fame as his unquestioned Right, and only observes that Pindar's Muse is not without her due Honour and Esteem.   

AESCHYLUS.  
AESchylus was by Descent an Athenian, Son to Euphorion; his Family referring its Original to the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or Primitive Inhabitants 
a Vit. per Scholiast. . The strange difference in the accounts of his Age, has been sometimes alleged by Learned Men, as an eminent instance of the confusion of ancient Cronology. The Author of the Old Greek Life commonly prefixed to his Works, says he came into the World in the 40th Olympiad; and yet just before, he has made him (as indeed he was) Cotemporary with Pindar; who is generally placed later by an Age. Therefore the Great Casaubon corrects the Numbers in the Old Life, from 40 to 63; in the last Year of which Olympiad Aeschylus' Birth is fixed by the Learned Mr. Stanley, on the Faith of the Arundelian Marble.  
There goes a Story of the ordinary Grecian strain, that being a Boy, and watching the Fruit in a Vineyard, Bacchus appeared to him, and commanded him to write Tragedies. And, that the very next Morning he set to Work, and found all things succeed as happily as he could wish 
a Pausan. Attic. p. 36. . Perhaps this Tale about his Adventure with Bacchus, might give occasion to the common report of his making all his Pieces when he was drunk; which we find recorded by 
b Sympos. Lib. 7. Qu. 10.  Plutarch and 
c Encom. Demosthen.  Lucian. Thus much may be affirmed without any great Scruple, that he fell on this Study while very Young, and quickly silenced the fame of all his Predecessors in the Art; as well by introducing a nobler Strain of Verse, as by reforming the rude Stage with the Ornaments of Habits and of Scenes.  
He is said to have been valiant beyond the ordinary pitch of Poets; and, with his two Brothers, to have born an honourable part in the three Famous Battles of Greece, at Marathon, Salamis, and 
d Vit. Graec. per Scholiast.  Plataea. In the second of these Engagements his Younger Brother Amynias was Chief Officer of a Squadron of Ships; and had the first Prize decreed him after the Victory; as having behaved himself the best of all the Grecian Captains, oversetting the Persian Admiral, and killing her Commander 
e Diod. Sicul. Lib. 11. .  
'Twas to the Courage and the Reputation of this Brother that Aeschylus afterwards happened to owe his Life. For being Condemned as a Despiser of the Gods upon account of one of his bolder Tragedies; when the Athenians were just proceeding to stone him to Death; Amynias getting near the Judges, pulled his Arm from under his Garment, and showed it in the Face of the Court without a Hand; that having been lost at Salamis in the Defence of his Country. The Judges were so happily moved with this noble Mark of Honour, that they immediately acquitted the Poet, on no other Plea, but the having so Brave a Man of his Family 
f Aelian, Var. Hist. l. 5. c. 19 .  
It's plain from this Arraignment, that Aeschylus' Countrymen had no great opinion of his Virtue. Which without doubt was one reason of his willingness to leave them: tho' he did not put the design in execution, till upon farther Resentments. Either, as is commonly believed, because the Judges of the Theatre had affronted him in letting Sophocles, who had been his Scholar, carry away the Tragic Prize from him: Or perhaps, because Simonides had infinitely outdone him, when they both composed Elegies on the Brave Grecians that fell at 
a Vit. Graec.  Marathon. Suidas has recorded a reason, that, if literally taken must needs have hastened his Flight more than both these put together. That, while one of his Plays was in Acting the Seats and Galleries of the Theatre had unluckily tumbled down. But the Younger Scaliger 
b Anson. Lect. l. 1. c. 10.  has taught us a way of making this account of Suidas, the same in substance with the first; if not with either of these already mentioned. For he will have the breaking of the Seats to have been an old Ironical Expression of the Comedians and Satirists to signify the ill success of a Play, or other Poem in the Theatre. On the strength of which conjecture, he interprets Juvenals 
— fregit subsellia versu,  in a quite contrary manner to the Common Expositors; as if it intimated that Statius' Thebais did not take at the Public Recitation. The only thing that can recommend this fancy is the approbation of it by the Judicious Mr. Stanley. But perhaps that Worthy Gentleman did not consider, that, as to the passage of Juvenal, Scaliger himself seems to have retracted his Notion, in his Work De Emendatione Temporum 
c Pag. 484. .  
Aeschylus chose Sicily for the place of his Retirement, where he arrived just at the time when King Hiero was Building the City Aetna: and made his first Addresses to his New Hosts in a Tragedy, which borrowed the Name of that Town, and was employed in prophetically describing the future Wealth and Greatness of the Inhabitants 
a Vit. Graec. .  
Having lived at Gela in that Island several Years, in the highest esteem with Prince and People, he died after this unfortunate manner.  
As he was walking one day in the Fields, an Eagle that had lighted on a Tortoise, and was soaring in the Air with her Prey till she could see a Place below hard enough to break it: unluckily took Aeschylus' bald Crown for a Stone, and accordingly let fall the Shell directly upon his Head; which instead of cracking itself dashed out His Brains 
b Plin. Nat. Hist. l. 10. c. 3. Val. Max. l. 19 c. 12. . They tell us, he had received an Oracle some time before, declaring that he should die by a Weapon sent from Heaven 
c Vit. Graec. .  
He was Buried very Honourably near the River Gela; all the Tragedians in those parts performing Dramas at his Tomb 
d Ibid. . On which was inscribed this Epitaph, said to have been composed by himself a little before his Death 
e Pausan. Attic. Athenaeus l. 14. ; 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Athenian Aeschylus, Euphorion's Son,  
Lies here, where Gela hastes to wash the Stone.  
Let Marathon's Proud 〈◊〉 his Valour tell,  
And Conquered Medes the Force they know too well.   
However the Name of Aeschylus has suffered from the Critics, who sometimes exclaim against him in as furious Language as his own; yet it will always be a sufficient Honour to his Memory, to have him acknowledged for the Father of his Art, and the Great Discoverer of that happy Way, which 'twas an easy matter for those that came after him to make straighter and smother.  
It's generally agreed that Tragedy was at first no more than a Continued Song of the Chorus. Afterwards Thespis, whom Horace 
a Art. Poet. Vers. 275. , calls the Inventor of the Tragic Muse, found it convenient to add one Person above the Chorus, who to relieve them and give them Breath might entertain the Audience with the Recital of some Illustrious Adventure. Now Aeschylus, as soon as ever he came to compare these rude Essays with his own design; found that this single Person tired the Audience more than he refreshed the Chorus. And therefore he divided the Action between many Persons; one of which was generally honoured with the Principal Character, and the rest were the Attendants of his Story and of his Fortune. Thus, as Monsieur Dacier observes, this part of Tragedy which was at first introduced only as an agreeable Relief, came to be the Principal Design; and the Chorus for the future served only to ease the Persons, as the Person had been first admitted to repair the Chorus. Before Aeschylus the Actors had not so much as a Public House to Show in; and even under the Command of his Predecessor Thespis, were contented with the Movable Stage of a Cart. But Aeschylus, as he changed their open Scene to a Theatre, so he furnished them with a Masque, instead of their rude Disguise of Soot and Lie. Besides, he set them off with the proper Ornaments of Dress, agreeable to the several Characters they were to sustain; and by the assistance of Buskins advanced them to the fancied pitch and size of Heroes 
a Hor. A. P. Ver. 280. . Nor is it a mean addition to his Glory, that he was the first, who took care to have all the kill business transacted behind the Scenes, that the People might not be disgusted by such Cruel and Unnatural Sights 
b Philostrat. Vit. Apollon. l. 6. c. 6. .  
Yet, after all these Honourable Performances, he has found (as was at first hinted) exceeding hard measure from many Ancient as well as Modern Judges; only because he did not advance his Art to that Noble Degree which Sophocles and Euripides afterwards attained. His Designs are censured, as Extravagant; his Conduct as rude and simple; and his Language, as windy Rant. 'Tis for this reason that the Common Masters, when they lay down their Rules for Tragedy, recommending only his two Successors for the Great Examples of Perfection, seldom honour Aeschylus with their Notice; unless when he is to be corrected for some miscarriage. The other mighty Chiefs are set for Marks and Lights to steer by; while the Father of their Profession can assord nothing but the Patterns of Rocks and Shelves, to be avoided.  
And, yet all the while, if we may depend on the Judgement of Tully 
a De Oratore l. 3. c. 7. , every Person in this Grand Triumvirate deserved almost an equal praise in a different way of writing. Now how to assign each Author his particular Excellency is confessed a hard task even by those who are so generous as to allow Aeschylus any. 
b On Aristotle's Poesy. Cap. 19  Dacier has proposed two ways of assigning their proper Characters; the first in relation to their Style, which he borrows from Dionysius Halicarnassaeus; and the other on account of the different species of Tragedy: how each Man succeeded best in some particular kind. As for Style, he attributes the rude to Aeschylus, the Florid to Euripides, and the mixed to Sophocles. In the division of Tragedy; he takes Aeschylus' Talon to have laid in that which he calls simple pathetic: Sophocles to have done best in the implexe, and Euripides in the Moral. Both these Distinctions, how true soever they may be, yet as they divide the Laurel are like to give Aeschylus but a very inconsiderable share. The French Critic professes after all, that he shall be obliged to any Person who would give a more equal Judgement between them. And he might have paid these Obligations to no less a Man than Plutarch. 'Tis from His decisive sentence that we are to learn what Title each Rival had to Fame, without invading the Prerogatives of the others. The three reigning Virtues then, which Plutarch had the Art to discover, were 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
c De Gloriâ athenians. . The Wisdom of Euripides, the Eloquence of Sophocles, and the Loftiness of Aeschylus.  
The Graces of his Successors may be better insisted on hereafter: at present we are only concerned to vindicate this Excellency of our Poet; which is commonly alleged as his greatest Crime. Indeed, if Nature and the Common Apprehensions of Men were always to be the Rules of Sublimity; Aeschylus would perpetually be a Trangressor. But it should be remembered, that his business lay among the Old Race of Heroes; And, as he raised them above Human Pitch by their Buskins, so he could not but distinguish them as much, by something more than Mortal in their Voice and Tone. Besides, those Primitive Worthies were entire Strangers to all that fineness of Language and nicety of Manners, which served to disguise the Weakness of their decayed Posterity. There seemed to be a Natural Violence in their Tempers: And 'twas as hard for them to use any calmness in their Talk, as in their Fights. It was long since the Judgement of the Famous Orator Dion, that whatever appears in Aeschylus of extravagant Grandeur, of ancient rudeness, and of a kind of stubbornness in thought and expression, seems more agreeable to the Manners of the Old Heroes 
a Dion. Orat. 51. .  
It will easily be confessed, that our Poet by aiming continually at bold and hardy strokes, has very often fallen into gross Thoughts and harsh Expressions, as the most admired Longinus 
b Chap. 13.  observes of him. But then before he is condemned, he will claim the Benefit of the same Critics Maxim, that a Sublime Style with a great many failures, is to be preferred to the Middle Way, how ever exactly hit 
c Longin. Cap. 27. . For they who venturing nothing, go on gravely in the plain Road, lie under no great Danger of Miscarrying. While the more exalted Path is still the more slippery, the more it shines. And it is below the Style, as well as the Persons of Heroes to stoop to Trifles.  
If Instruction be acknowleged for the Chief End of Poetry, Aeschylus' Pieces may pass for Moral Lectures, as well as those of Sophocles and Euripides. And though he may not possibly have had Art enough to dress up Virtue in all her Ornaments and her Charms; yet he has certainly displayed Vice, in its most horrible Shapes: as it was indeed easier for him to Paint a Monster than a Beauty.  
At the same time it must be acknowledged that he understood little of what was afterwards called Nature and Fineness: But that possessing a vast and elevated Fancy, he endeavoured by the force of Prodigies and Fables to astonish and Terrify the Audience, whom he could not entertain agreeably by the Rules of Decency and Art. To this purpose, they tell a famous Story, that when his Eumenideses was Acted, the Chorus of Furies entering in a violent manner on the Stage, the People were put into such a Fright, that the Children Swooned away, and the Big-bellied Women immediately miscarried 
a Vit. Gaec. .  
Yet even in this Care of making Terror the Chief End of his Pieces, he seems not so much to have been out in the Choice as in the Prosecution of his Design. For, however the soft movement of the Passions may have usurped the chief place in Tragedy, it is certain the Audience ought sometimes to be transported as well as gently agitated. Horace reckoned it the noblest power of a Poet, when he acts with the violence of Enchantments on the Persons he entertains, 
— vanis terroribus implet  
Ut magus, & modò me Thebis, modò ponit Athenis.   
And Horace's Great Rival among the Moderns declares, that a Tragedian will but lose his Labour, if he does not mix the force of Terror with the Charms of Agreeableness and Sweetness: 
Si d' un beau mouvement l' agreeable fureur  
Souvent ne nous remplit d' une douce terreur 
a Boileau L'Art. Poet. Chant. 3. .    

 depiction of Sophocles 
SOPHOCLES.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in marmore   
SOPHOCLES.  
SOphocles, was an Athenian, the Son of Sophilus as Suidas, or Theophilus, as Diodorus Siculus calls him. The time of his Birth is placed by the Arundelian Marble in the Fourth Year of the 70th Olympiad: So that he was Eight and Twenty Years Younger than Aeschylus, and Twelve Years Older than Euripides.  
Tho' he was but a Boy at the time of Xerxes' Famous Expedition into Greece, yet he had the honour to bear no mean part in the Triumphs that followed his Defeat. For, when upon the flight of that Prince and the entire rout of all his Generals, the Grecians were raising Trophies to continue the memory of the Actions: our Young Sophocles, being then at Salamis, while the Men were employed in fixing the Monuments of the Victory, is reported to have appeared at the Head of a Choir of Noble Boys, all naked and washed over with Oil and Essence; and, while they sung a Paean, to have guided the Measures with his Harp 
a Vit. per Scholiast. & Athenaeus. l. 1. p. 20. .  
His Father was no better than a Mechanic by Profession, yet being high in favour with Pericles, and the Chief of the City, found means to educate him in all the Gentiler Parts of Knowledge and of Wit 
b Vit. Graec. . His noblest Art of Tragedy he attained under the Tutorage of Aeschylus 
c Ibid. , who had newly reformed and illustrated that sort of Poesy.  
There can't be a more famous Argument of his Prosiciency in those Studies, than that his earliest Triumph was in the Conquest of his Master. For Cimon (the renowned Athenian General, whose Life we find in Plutarch) having performed successfully his search of Thesens' Bones, and bringing the Noble Relics with Public shouts into the City: A solemn Contention of Tragedians was appointed, as was usual on such extraordinary Occasions. The two Great Rivals in the Performance were Aeschylus and Sophocles, and the Applause seemed so equally divided, that the Archon whose business 'twas to constitute Judges of the Prize, dared not pitch on any Persons for so ticklish an Office. At last Cimon, and the other Commanders entering the Theatre to see the Sport, the Archon seized on them (happening to be the proper Number) and giving them the Oaths made them sit down for Umpires of the Cause. The Contention was carried on with all the Heat that Honour and Ambition could inspire; each Person labouring with more than his ordinary force to gain so Honourable a Verdict on his side. Upon a full Hearing, the Victory was adjudged to Sophocles, tho' this were the first Play he ever presented in Public 
a Plutarch in Cimon. .  
The Esteem and Wonder that all Greece expressed at his Wisdom, made him conceived to be the peculiar Favourite, or rather the intimate Friend of the Gods. They tell us that Aesculapius did him the Honour to visit him at his House 
b Idem in Numâ. . And it should seem that Hercules had no less respect for him, from a Story of Tully's. For among his Instances of Divination, he thus produce's Sophocleses as a memorable Example. " There happened, (says he) a Golden Patin to be stolen out of Herculeses Temple. Sophocles saw in a Dream the God appearing to him and telling him the Name of the Thief. He took little notice of the Vision for that time, or the next; but upon a frequent repetition he went boldly into Court, and declared such a Person to be guilty of the Sacrilege. The Judges immediately ordered the Man to be apprehended; who upon Examination confessed the Fact, and restored the Vessel. On which account the Temple came to be called Hercules the Discoverer's 
c Cicero de Divinat. Lib. 1. ." The Great Impostor Apollonius Tyanaeus attribute's a much Diviner Power to him. For in his Oration before Domitian, he tell's the Emperor, that Sophocles the Athenian was able to check and restrain the furious Winds, when they were visiting his Country at an unseasoble Time 
a Philostrat. Vit. Apollon pag. 393. .  
The same opinion of his extraordinary Worth gained him a free Passage to the highest Offices in the State. We find him in Strabo, going in joint Commission with the famous Pericles, to reduce the rebellious Samians. 'Twas during his continuance in this Honour, that he received the severe Reprimand from his Colleague, which Cicero has left upon record. They were standing and conferring about their Common Affairs, when there happened to run by, a very beautiful Young Boy: Sophocles, could not but take notice of his Prettiness, and began to express his own admiration to his Brother Pericles: To which the Grave General returned this memorable Reply, a Praetor, Sophocles, should observe Continency with his Eyes as well as with his Hands 
c Tull. Offi. l. 1. .  
But whatever inclinations the Poet might then have; (as indeed his Chastity is deeply suspected) yet they may in some measure be excused as the effects of a Passion submitted to on no other account, but because it was unconquerable. For thus we find him rejoicing at last, that by the Benefit of Old Age he was delivered from the severe Tyranny of Love 
d Philostrat. Vit. Apollon. l. 1. c. 10. Plutarch Moral. .  
Tully, in his admired Book de Senectute brings in Sophocles, as an Example to show that the weakness of the memory and Parts, is not a necessary attendant on the Condition he there defends. He observes that this Great Man continued the Profession of his Art, even to his latest Years: But it seems his Sons resented this severe Application to Writing, as a manifest neglect of his Family and Estate: On which account, they at last declared the Business in Court before the Judges; desiring the Guardianship of their Father, as one that was grown delirious and so put out of a capacity to manage his Concerns. The Old Gentleman being soon acquainted with the Motion, in order to his Defence, came presently into Court, and recited his Oedipus of Colonos, a Tragedy which he had just before finished; desiring to know whether that Piece looked like the Work of a Madman. There needed no other Plea to gain the Cause. The Judges admiring and applauding his Wit, not only acquitted him of the Charge, but as Lucian adds, voted his Sons Madmen for accusing Him.  
The General Story goes, that having exhibited his last Play, and getting the Prize, he fell into such a Transport of Joy, as carried him off 
a Diod. Sic. l. 13. Plin. l. 7. c. 53. Val. Max. etc. . Tho' Lucian 
b In 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  differs from the Common Report, affirming him to have been choked with a Grapestone, like Anacreon.  
They tell a remarkable Accident that attended his Funeral. He died, they say, at Athens, at the time when the Lacedæmonians were besieging the City: for which reason, the Solemnity of his Burial could not be carried on. Lysander the Spartan General, used at the same time, frequently to have a Vision of Bacchus, desiring him to suffer his Dearest Servant to be Interred. Upon this, Lysander made enquiry of the Besieged, what eminent Persons had lately died in the Town: And finding, upon Information that his Vision must needs be understood of Sophocles, in as much as Bacchus was the Patron and Precedent of the Tragedians, he granted them a Truce for the decent performance of his last Honours 
c Pausan. Attic. p. 36. Plin. Nat. Hist. l. 7. c. 30. . It is observable that this Story about Lysander does not agree with our Marble Chronicle, which places the Death of Sophocles in the Second Year of the 93d Olympiad, whereas the Siege of Athens did not fall out till the Fourth Year of the same Olympiad, the 27th of the Peleponnesian War 
a Xenophon. .  
If Aeschylus be styled the Father, Sophocles, will demand the Title of Master of Tragedy. What one brought into the World the other adorned with true shapes and Features, and with all the Accomplishments and Perfections its Nature was capable of.  
Diogenes Laertius, when he would give us the highest Idea of the Advances Plato made in Philosophy, compares them to the Improvements of Sophocles in the Tragic Art. The chiefest of these Monsieur Boileau has thus reckoned up and applauded. 
Sophocle enfin, donnant l' essor à son Genie,  
Accrut encore la pomp, augmenta l' Harmony;  
Interessa le Chaeur dans toute l' Action;  
De vers trop raboiteux polit l' expression;  
Lui donna chez les Grecs cette hauteur divine,  
Ou jamais n' atteignit la foiblesse Latin.  
Then Sophocles, with happier Genius strove,  
To raise the Music, and the Pomp improve:  
Gave his just Chorus in the Plot their shares;  
And filing rugged Words by nicest Ears,  
In Grecian Grandeur reached that envied height,  
Which Rome in vain affects, and ape's with weaker flight.   
His Conduct and his Expressions, are the Advantages, which commonly gain him the Prize, against the two Rivals of his own Age, and the more unequal Contenders since. The first of these Virtues has made his Oedipus the General Rule and Model of true Plotting. The other is that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which Plutarch fixes as the distinguishing mark of his Character, and of his Fame.  
One of his most judicious Artifices, and on the account of which Aristotle 
a Poet. cap. 4.  gives him the Preference to Euripides, was his allowing the Chorus an Interest in the main Action, so as to make the Play all of a piece; every thing conducing regularly to the chief Design. Whereas in Euripides we often meet with a rambling Song of the Chorus, entirely independent of the main Business, and as proper to be used on any other Subject or Occasion whatsoever.  
Indeed the stiffest Patrons of Euripides are willing enough to allow Sophocles the poor Glory of Mechanism and Contexture; provided they can but secure the Nobler Talents of Wit and Style, to the possession of their Friend. At the same time, the Applauders of Sophocles, will come to no Composition, nor yield the least part of the Tragic Laurels to the pretensions of the opposite Party. Or now and then, perhaps, if they are in a Generous Fit, they will acknowledge Euripides to have attained a Clearness and Happiness of Style; but than it must arise from ignobler means: And what Sophocles owe's only to the force of Genius and the Native loftiness of thought, his Rival must faintly imitate, by an exactness of care, and a skilful ranging of Words and Sentences. The Compositions of Sophocles must relish of the World, while those of Euripides betray the harsher twang of the School. Those must be the best Tragedies, these the best Socratic Discourses. Those must have the Air of a Gentleman and of a Commander, these of a Plausible Declaimer. And, in short, Sophocles must be the greatest Poet, and Euripides the greatest Philosopher.  
Now, if there were room for a moderate Judgement, tho' the Palm would perhaps be divided more equally, yet Sophocles would still stand fairest to carry off the larger share. The Ancients have been very cautious, whenever they entered on so dangerous a point. Few Judges have had the hardiness to declare positively on either side; except one or two, who honour Sophocles with the Title of Prince of Tragedy. Yet we have some reason to conclude from the broad hints of Historians and Critics, that the Performances of the same Great Man, were not only more applauded on the Athenian Stage, but always esteemed the highest Attainments in the Tragic Strain.  
Aristotle 
a Poet. cap. 13.  indeed, has given Euripides the honourable Epithet of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, but it's easy to discover, that he can mean only the most pathetic. Whereas, take him all together, and he seems to give Sophocles the Precedency: at least in the most Noble Perfections of Manners, Oeconomy and Style.  
Dionysius Halicarnassaeus in his Art of Rhetoric 
b Pag. 69.  commends Sophocles for preserving the Dignity of his Persons and their real Characters, whereas Euripides, he says, did not so much consult the Truth of his Manners, and their conformity to Common Life; on which account, he is often deficient in Grace and Decorum. He gives the Prize on the same side in his two following Distinctions; That Sophocles wisely chose the Noblest and the most Generous Manners and Affections to represent: while Euripides employed himself in expressing the more dishonest, effeminate and abject Passions. That the former never says any thing but what is exactly necessary; whereas the other frequently amuses the Reader with tedious Oratorical Inductions. And tho' at the conclusion of the Comparison, he applauds the Style of Euripides as an happy attainment of the Middle Way; yet he seems to add his, only to temper the severity of his former Judgement; and, for fear he should be thought to detract too much from the Reputation of so admired an Author, by giving his Rival the Advantage in all points.  
Longinus, seems all along to favour the same Cause, as far as it was safe to venture. And in one place 
a Cap. 32.  he directly censures Euripides as a Writer more happy in the marshalling of his Words, than in the sense of his Thoughts.  
Dion Chrysostom the Orator, who has nicely compared the Three Famous Tragedians in his little Piece of Philoctetes' Bow; confesses, that the Verses of Sophocles, do not abound like those of Euripides in Exhortations to Virtue: yet observes on the other hand, that they have such a happy mixture of Grandeur and Delight, as to deserve the Honour the Ancients did the Poet in calling him the BEE.  
It is obvious to add, that if Euripides aspires to the same Title, it must rather be on account of his Wax, than of his Honey, rather for the Use he gives us, than the Pleasure.   

 depiction of Euripides 
EURIPIDES.  
Apud Cardinalem Farnesium in marmore   
EURIPIDES.  
EUripides, as well as his two famous Rivals, was born of a Creditable Athenian Family. Particularly his Mother Clito, is reported of Noble Descent 
a Suid. : tho' Aristophanes 
b In Thesmophor.  in jest calls her a Cabbageseller, and Valerius Maximus 
c Lib. 3. c. 4.  records this as her real Profession. It's said, while she was with Child, her Husband Mensarchus consulted the Oracle of Apollo, to know what he might hope for; and that he received these Verses in Answer. 
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a Euseb. Prep. Evang. l. 5. c. 33.   
Happy Mnesarchus! Heaven designs a Son:  
The listening World shall witness his Renown,  
And with glad shouts bestow the Sacred Crown.   
He was born in the Island Salamis, whither his Father and Mother had fled, with a great many other eminent Families of Athens, upon the formidable Design of Xerxes against Greece. His Birth is placed by the Arundelian Marble in the Fourth Year of the 73d Olympiad: tho' the Learned Mr. Barnes, following the common opinion, that he came into the World on the famous day of the Sea-fight near Salamis, in the straits which they called the Euripus, and that he borrowed thence his Name, brings him down Six Years later. Indeed, Hesychius in his Lives of Famous Men, says positively, that he was born on the day of that Great Victory; but then he adds immediately after, that this was a good Omen of the Athenians success: And therefore it should seem, even according to Hesychius, only to have fallen out on the same day in a former Year. If his Name was borrowed from the Euripus, perhaps he might not have been called so at first; but might have received that Honour upon observation that the Noble Engagement there, happened on his Birthday 
b Vid. Tho. Lidiat. Annotat. in Cron. Marm. p. 58.   
At what time he removed with his Father and Mother to Athens is not certain. However, he was so far in Love with his Native Island, as afterwards to honour it with frequent Visits: and Aulus Gellius 
a Lib. 15. c. 20.  tells us, he himself was showed there, an old melancholy Cave, where Euripides was reported to have written many of his Tragedies.  
It seems Mnesarchus, however he might Pride himself in Apollo's Promise, yet had put no higher sense on the words of the Oracle, than that his Son should win the Prize in the Olympic Games. Accordingly he took care, to bring him up in the Exercises of Strength and Activity, performed in those Solemnities 
b Ibid. . But Euripides, tho' he made so good progress in these Feats of Body as to gain the Crown at the Athenian Sports in honour of Ceres, and of Theseus; yet had always much greater thoughts in his Head. And therefore, whilst his Father was labouring all he could, to forward his Proficiency in the Palaestra; he made a Nobler Choice for himself, proving a constant Auditor to Anaxagoras in Philosophy, and to Prodicus in Rhetoric; and diverting himself in the mean time, with the Art of Painting, which some will have, to have been at first his open Profession 
c Suid. . It is not very probable, that he learned Morality under Socrates, as Aulus Gellius reports. For than we must make the Scholar older than the Master. 'Tis much more reasonable to believe, and much more to the Honour of Euripides, that some part of the Philosopher's Wisdom, should be owing to his Tragic Pieces. For Aelian 
d Var. Hist. l. 2. c. 13.  acquaints us, that Socrates, used to frequent those Plays, as useful and instructive Lessons; when at the same time, he despised all other Representations on the Stage.  
The occasion of our Poet's falling to Tragedy, was the extreme danger his Master Anaxagoras had incurred by his Learning: who under the notion of a despiser of the Public Gods, was banished Athens by the fury of the Mob, and had good fortune that he came off with his Life, Euripides was then entered on his eighteenth year 
a Suid. , and not daring to run the hazard of his Wise Master's Profession, he determined to turn his Philosophy to the use of the Stage: with this particular resolution, to keep as far as he could, from disgusting so ticklish an Audience, by contradicting or exposing the Superstitious Genius, and the Common Fancies of the Age.  
Yet his Prudence and Caution were not able to secure him from all trouble on this Score. For they tell us, that upon that bold stroke in his Hippolytus, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
My Tongue has sworn, but still my Mind is free,  He was indicted as a wicked Encourager of Perjury; tho' it does not appear, that he suffered for it. The Answer he made to the Accuser is left on record by Aristotle 
b Rhetor. l. 3. c. 15. ; " That 'twas a very unreasonable thing to bring a Cause into a Court of Judicature, which belonged only to the Cognisance of a Theatre, and the Liberty of a Public Festival. That when those words were spoken on the Stage, there went along with them some reason to justify them: if not, on the Stage he was ready to defend them; when ever the Bill should be once preferred in the right Place."  
Indeed there was another time, when he incensed the Audience to as high a Degree; but then he immediately brought himself off by his Art. It was in the Tragedy of Bellerophon; where that old Gentleman laying himself out very eloquently in Praise of Money against Honesty, in a Rant, something like Mr. Waller's Miser's Speech; the People were so enraged, as to rise with general consent, to demolish the Play and the Actor. But Euripides stepping out in time, only desired their patience till they should see what end this Patron of Covetousness came to. For it seems in the sequel of the Piece, he had punished the sordid Wretch as he deserved; and so justified the heightening of his Character, by raising the ill Consequences of it in proportion 
a Vid. Senec. Epist. 115. .  
He had one happiness which Men of Wit are generally strangers to; and that is the being as eminent for Labour as for invention. 'Twas a noble return that he gave Alcestis is, a Brother of his Profession, on this occasion. Euripides, it seems, had been complaining that he could not get out above three Verses in three Days; whereas Alcestis is vapoured, that he had always Three hundred at command in the same time. Ay, but, says, Euripides, You don't consider the difference: Your Verses are made to live no longer than those three Days, and mine to continue for ever 
b Val. Max. l. 3. c. 7. .  
'Tis a remarkable Instance in what manner the Prizes were carried, at the Common Trials of Wit in Athens; when we find Euripides, tho' he wrote Seventy-five Tragedies, yet winning only Five, or at most but Fifteen Victories; and frequently losing the Crown to some pitiful Contend 
c A. Gell. l. 17. c. 4. . But this had been Aeschylus' Case before him; and, perhaps, Homer's before either. Yet Euripides is generally supposed to have had a tolerable Fortune in the World; and so not to have been obliged to depend mercenarily on the People's Humour.  
If we might believe Diogenes Laertius 
a In Plat. , he should seem to have been as intimate with Plato, as he was with Plato's Master Socrates. For in the Life of Plato by that Author, Euripides is said to have accompanied him in his Egyptian Voyage; which he made to learn the Course of the Planets. But, tho' the Younger Scaliger has declared in favour of this report, yet it cannot possibly agree with the difference of Age, between the Poet and the Philosopher; as Mr. Barnes has most judiciously observed.  
The only Great Action of those Times, with which Euripides' Story is concerned, was the famous Overthrow of the Athenian Forces in Sicily. This sad Disaster, described so largely by Thucydides in his 6th and 7th Books, and by Plutarch in his Life of Nicias, happened in the Fourth Year of the 91st Olympiad, and the 72d of Euripides his Life. After the last dreadful Battle, wherein the Athenian Army was entirely routed, and such prodigious numbers taken Prisoners; " It was extremely remarkable, that many were saved and released, merely for the sake of Euripides. For, it seems of all the Inland Grecians his Muse was in highest esteem with the Men of Sicily. Many of the poor Creatures that were thus preserved, after they had got home, are said to have gone and made their acknowledgements to the Poet: reporting, that some of them had been delivered from their Slavery, upon teaching what they could of his Verses; and how others, when straggling about after the Defeat, had been relieved with Meat and Drink, for singing some of his Compositions."  
Nor were those who fell honourably in this Unfortunate Expedition, less obliged to Euripides, than the Survivors. For he paid the last Duties to their Memory, in a most passionate 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Funeral. Elegy, a fragment of which is thus set down in Plutarch 
a In Nicias. . 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Eight times they put all Syracuse to flight;  
While Heaven stood Neuter to behold the Fight.   
Sophocles and he, as the Two Great Masters of the same Trade, are commonly thought to have maintained no great Intimacy; at least not till the latter part of their Lives. Yet his Second Epistle is addressed to Sophocles, who was then in the Island Chios; congratulating his safety after a Ship-wreck; and condoling the loss of his Tragedies by that Accident, as a Common Misfortune to Greece; yet such as might easily be repaired, in as much as the Worthy Author of them survived. If this Epistle be genuine, there was without doubt a fair understanding at last between these Great Persons: a point, which will be confirmed farther when we come to take notice of Sophocles' Behaviour upon the News of Euripides' Death.  
His Humour and Carriage are represented as Grave and Serious, and not much inclined to the ordinary gaiety of Poets. Aulus Gellius 
b Lib. 15. c. 20.  has preserved a notable Epigram of Alexander the Aetolian, on which this account of his Temper is commonly built. 
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This Spark of Anaxgoras' School  
I always took for a rough Stubborn Soul.  
His awkward Court ne'er wears a smiling Look;  
Nor all the Power of Wine can raise him to a Joke.  
Yet when he Writes, the Sirens crowd his Tongue,  
And with fair Honey mix the flowing Song.   
As to Love-matters, the common Business of his Profession, his Character runs double: for we find him distinguished by the Title of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Suidas and Gellius; and by the quite contrary appellation of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in Athenaeus. But the appearing Contradiction may be easily salved. His continual Care to fill his Plays with Satyrs against Women, might well make him esteemed a Hater of the Sex, as far as his Pen was concerned. And 'twas for this reason, that Aristophanes in one of his Comedies set a Jury of Women to try him, for his Offences in that kind. Yet this does not in the least hinder, but that he might admire the Good part of the Fair World, as much as he persecuted the Bad. Sophocles knew very well how to make this Distinction upon his Rival. Some body in his Company, was calling Euripides a Woman-hater; Yes, says Sophocles, He is so indeed upon the Stage; but not in the Bed 
a Athenaeus. l. 13. . Accordingly it's agreed by common consent, that he had two Wives; and some say▪ both at the same time.  
It was about a Year after the Sicilian Defeat, when Euripides, being overcome with the Entreaties of King Archelaus, left Athens, for the Macedonian Court. That Excellent Prince is particularly famous for his Respect to Learned Men, and for his robbing the Grecian Academies, of their eminent Professors. So that there's no need of believing the Common Story, that our Poet trudged to Macedon for no other reason, but because he was ashamed to show his Face at home, after lie had catched one of the Actors a-bed with his Wife, and was plagued on that score by his Enemies the Comedians.  
The Veneration that Archelaus professed for his Sense and Wisdom was so high, that Solinus 
a Cap. 15.  tells us, he was honoured with the Chief Place in the King's Council.  
There are a great many smart say recorded which he passed on several occasions, while he waited on that Prince. Particularly, one day a Young sluttering Courtier joking upon him for his stinking Breath; My mouth has reason to stink, says he, because so many honest Secrets have rotten in it 
b Stobaeus Serm. 39 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. . The famous Answer he made Archelaus is of a Nobler Strain. The King it seems, was continually teizing him to celebrate his Actions and Glory in a Tragic Piece; when once pressing it more home, and seeming extremely importunate, Euripides burst out into this serious Reply, Pray Heavens Your Majesty's Reign may never afford the Subject of a Tragedy 
c Diomed. Grammat. de Poem. Gen. .  
In the mean time, his Enemies at Athens did not fail to make the worst construction of his Journey to Macedon; as if he designed for the honourable Procession of a Pimp or a Parasice. This was the Subject of that Epistle to Cephisophon, which is the last of those Pieces, as we now have them. In it, he excuses himself from having any thoughts of increasing his Honours or his Riches, by changing his Country and Way of Life; and advises his Friend to join with him in despising those pitiful Stories, which could never hurt any body, but the Authors of them.  
He had passed but a few Years in this Court, when an unhappy Accident concluded his Life. Ovid tells us what it was, when he wishes his Ibis the same Fate. 
Utque cothurnatum vatem tutela Dianae,  
Dilanient vigilum te quoque turba canum.  
Or mayst thou feed Diana's watchful Train,  
Like the famed Master of the Buskined Strain.   
Indeed, his Death is generally charged upon the King's Dogs: but whether this happened through Envy of some of the Courtiers, or by mere chance, is very far from a determination. Every Account gives him the same unfortunate End; and yet differs from the rest, in the particular manner of the Action. Only some, indeed, will not have him to have been torn in pieces by Dogs, but by a Mob of Women; as Old Orpheus had suffered before him. Suidas places the time of his Death in the 93d Olympiad; and the Arundelian Marble in the Second Year of that Olympiad; which falls in with An. Mund. 3598, before our Saviour 435 Years. By this account he should have been now Seventy eight Years Old: whereas the common Relations of his Story, fixing his Birth later, will have him die in his Seventy fifth Year.  
The News of his sad End, arriving at Athens, spread an universal sorrow through the City. Even Sophocles was so far from rejoicing at the removal of his Rival, that he is reported to have brought his Actors on the Stage in Mourning Garments, and without their Crowns: and to have appeared himself in the same melancholy Garb 
a Tho. Magist. in Vit. Eurip. . Nor did he long survive, deceasing according to the best Accounts, in the very same Year.  
Euripides' Corpse was removed from Promiscus where he died, to the City Pella, and there Interred with the highest State and Solemnity. King Archelaus himself, not contented with the Chief Concern and Expenses of his Funeral, did him the farther Honour of Mourning for him, in the usual fashion of the Country, and shaved his Head, for a visible token of continued Grief 
b Solin. c. 15. . The Monument erected to his Memory, is supposed to have been of Marble, adorned with the Poet's Statue in the Tragic Garb, and hung about with the common appurtenances of that Art, and the Ensigns of Bacchus, the Founder and Patron of the Profession. The Macedonians, as Aulus Gellius 
c Lib. 15. c. 20.  tells us, were so proud of it, that they turned their common boast into a Proverb 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Thy Tomb, Euripides, shall ne'er decay.  And therefore when the Athenians sent Commissioners to desire his Bones, for the transporting them into the place of his Nativity: the People absolutely denied the Request, declaring they would part on no account, with such honourable Relics.  
The City which preserved his Ashes, being seated near Pieria, the Birth-place of the Muses, whence they took their Name of Pierideses, gave occasion to this Epitaph, which we find inscribed to his Memory in the Anthologia; 
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Tho', by a Fate unworthy snatched away,  
Thou gav'st Diana's Pack a Noble Prey;  
Thou sweetest Glory of th' Athenian Stage,  
That with Grave Sense couldst mix thy Tragic Rage;  
Yet  thou Live; while Pella's faithful Land  
Hides thy Remains from Crooked Age's Hand.  
Pella Pieria's Neighbour! for 'twas fit,  
The Muse's Servant should attend their Seat.   
Plutarch 
a In Lycurg.  relates, that this Monument at Pella was struck with Lightning; and that such an Accident never happened but to these Relics of Euripides, and those of Lycurgus: which he says, may serve for a Consolation to the Poet's Admirers, and for a sufficient Argument of his dearness to the Gods; that he should have the same ruin befall his Remains, as had formerly dispersed those of Lycurgus, a Man of renowned Piety, and a peculiar Favourite of Heaven.  
The burning of his Monument in this remarkable manner, furnished the Grecian Epigrammatist with a happy Subject for this little Piece, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
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One Urn thy Ashes boasted to contain,  
Till Heaven's quick Lightning scattered them again:  
'Twas Jove's own Work to clear the Mortal Load,  
And purge thy Nobler Relics to a GOD.   
The People of Athens when they found it impossible to recover his Bones, were contented to raise him an Honorary Tomb in their own Country; which was remaining in Pausanias' Time 
a Attic. p. 3. . And 'tis to this Monument, we are to refer that pretty Distich of an Epitaph, extant in the common Collection of Greek Epigrams. 
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Thou art thy Tombs Memorial, that's not Thine,  
While thy fair Glory makes the Marble shine.  Which thought seems to have been imitated in the latter part of Mr. Drayton's well known Epitaph in Westminster-Abby.  
The Story how the Originals of his Works together with those of Sophocles, came into King Ptolemy's Hands, when he was founding his Famous Library at Alexandria, told by Lylius Gyraldus and Mr. Barnes, on the Authority of Galen, is to this purpose. " The King sent to Athens, to desire those Books for the increasing his Collection; but the City refused to comply: within a little time after, there happened a great Dearth in Attica; and than Ptolemy denying them the importation of any Corn from Egypt, unless they answered his old Demand; they were forced to part with the Treasure, to keep themselves from starving." Whatever authority those Great Men had for their relation, it's certain the account in Galen, is very different. King Ptolemy, says he, sent to the Athenians to borrow the Original Manuscripts of Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripides in order to transcribe them for his Library, laying down in their hands Fifteen Talents of Silver, by way of Security. Upon receipt of the Books, he took care to have them wrote out on the fairest Parchment, and set off with richest Ornaments; and then, keeping the Originals, he sent the Copies to Athens, with this Message; that the King desired the City to accept of those Books, and of the Fifteen Talents, which he had left in their Hands. That they had no reason to be angry, since if he had neither sent them the Originals nor the Copies, he had done them no injury; as long as they themselves by taking the security, supposed it a sufficient reparation, in case of a Loss 
a Galen. Tom. 5. Fol. 196. Edit. Ald. .  
AMONG all the hard Censures that have been passed upon EURIPIDES; whether on account of his Conduct, his Manners or his Style; there is not one which dares touch on the Nobler Excellencies of his Wisdom, and his Passion. 'Tis for this reason, that he has been always esteemed the most useful Man of his Art, for Human Life, tho' others may have the advantage of him in Delight.  
The same Oracle that pronounced Socrates the Wisest of Mortals, gave Euripides the second place in the Character of Wisdom, and honoured Sophocles, only with the lowest Degree. 
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a Scholar in Aristoph. p. 131. Suidas in v. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   It seems a little strange, that while this Testimony is so often brought to establish the honour of the Philosopher, we should scarce ever find it alleged to credit the Poets. But perhaps Men were afraid of injuring the Divine Moralist, by joining him in Character with a couple of Play-wrights. And the Great Origen 
a Contra. Cells. p. 335.  is of opinion, that the Devil when he delivered that Sentence, by giving Socrates those Partners, purposely obscured his Glory, while he was forced in some measure to applaud it.  
However, as long as the End of Poesy is to Instruct, and since the Gravity of the Ancient Tragedies made them appear something more than bare Lessons of Virtue; it will not detract from the Glory of the Great Socrates, to call those Persons Wise, who advanced the same Truths as himself. At least, he will be contented to allow Euripides a share in that Title, since he was pleased to honour his Plays with his Company, when he denied that favour to the other Masters of the Stage 
b Aelian. Var. Hist. l. 2. c. 13. .  
Plutarch, then, had good reason to assign WISDOM, as the peculiar Character and Glory of Euripides' Works. For tho' the other Tragedians propose the same end, the regulating of men's Notions about Providence and Human Affairs, the representing Vice in all its deformities and Mischiefs, and the painting Virtue, with the highest Beauties, and with the best rewards: yet he will always appear to have answered that Design with so much the more advantage; as he added the strength of Philosophy, to the powers of Action and of Verse. For thus by a course of frequent Sentences, he instils all his Good Principles and Counsels, by the immediate conveyance of the Ear. Whereas in the other Tragic Pieces, the People were instructed more by what they saw, than by what they heard. The whole Action and Scope of the Play might perhaps recommend some Noble Virtue to their Practice: because they beheld either that Virtue thriving happily in some Great Person, or the contrary Vice procuring as remarkable Misfortunes. But this was rather teaching by Picture and dumb show, than by Words and Precepts. While the Written part was all spent in bringing about and adjusting the Intrigue, without intermixing many new Advices, for fear of retarding the Grand Design. But now Euripides, besides their Advantage of shadowing one great Duty by the main Action, has inserted a long train of inferior Rules; and has given these in direct words to the Audience, without putting them to the trouble of making inferences from what they see. And tho' the first of these ways, may be thought the most artificial Instruction; the other will be admitted as the most useful; or at least as the most suitable to Common Apprehensions.  
'Tis on the account of this Wisdom, and this forcible way of teaching, that Quintilian, when he is giving his Young Orator a List of Authors, with their proper Characters and Uses: while he does but just mention Sophocles' Name, passes on presently to a long recommendation of Euripides, as far the most beneficial to a Man, who designed to rule the Forum. His Language, which some reprehend, as inferior to the Grandeur of the Buskin, the Rhetorician for the same reason, esteems and applauds, as approaching nearer to the stile of Oratory. Then, as to the happy abundance of his Sentences, and his delivering the Grave Precepts of the Ancient Sages, he thinks him almost equal to the Wise Masters themselves: and in his Speeches and Answers, comparable to the most commanding Pleader at the Bar. And ends his Character with the most taking part of it, the excellency of his Passions, and his unresistable force of raising Pity.  
None can deny, but that the Virtues and Excellencies which Quintilian here recommends to his Orator's Imitation, will have their use and value in proportion, with all Persons who are engaged in the Business of the World. They will be better Citizens by reading Euripides, and better Versifiers by doting on Sophocles: and will acknowledge just as much difference between the advantages they receive from those two Authors, as they find between their Civil, and their Poetic Capacity.  
Not but that Sophocles has his Instructions too, and those the most curious and the most refined. But, alas! his very excellencies render him of less service to the World. All the Old Magic of Poesy has been long since concluded: and the Muses may as well expect again to draw Stones and Trees into Order, as Men into Virtue, by their Arts and Power. People are no more, to be led into Societies: like Bees, by the force of Music. The World, in its Infancy, might learn Goodness, by sweet Violences, and pleasant Deceits. But now, it pretends to be more Manly; and scorns to be tricked, tho' to its own Advantage. We as much despise a Poet, who hopes to enforce Virtue by the Harmony and Artifice of Verse; as a Physician who endeavours to cure by Charm. Things must be laid down in a plain way, and the course and method of Nature exactly followed. If Virtue and Vice will come upon the Stage, they must lay aside their Scenical Habits, and appear Naked and Unmasqued. Otherwise we are apt to take the Liberty of thinking that they only indeed Act a Part, and are just such Machine's and Fancies in the World, as they are in the Theatre.  
Thus while Euripides, does not so much endeavour to prevail on our senses, as to make an immediate Conquest on our Minds; and rather convinces us by Eloquence, than amazes us by Pomp and Show: We admire and esteem him more, the more he has failed in the formal Rules of his Art: and are ready to acknowledge him the chief of Tragic Professors, because he kindly descends to our Level, and wears his Buskins lower than the rest.   

 depiction of Aristophanes 
ARISTOPHANES.  
Apud magnum Etruriae Ducem in marmore   
ARISTOPHANES.  
THE Age of Aristophanes need not come under Enquiry; since none can be at a loss where to fix the famous Peleponnesian War, and the more famous Story of the Divine Socrates. But then his Country or Birth-place is little understood. The Old Illustrators, quarrel, and defy one another on the Point: and the Oracle of his own Works, which acquaints us with most of his Circumstances and Concerns, is but in vain consulted about this Dispute. There is indeed one passage in the Acharnian, which seems to hint, that he sometime lived in Aegina, and might therefore probably be Born there. The Chorus between the Second and third Acts, are commending the Poet, as the Deliverer of their Country by his Wisdom, and as a Man that was admired by all the World; and then they go on, 
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a Pag. 402. Edit. Caldor.   
'Tis for His sake, the Spartans' seem inclined  
To beg Aegina, and invite a Peace:  
Not that they value the poor spot of Ground;  
But hope that Claim must rob You of Your Poet.   
We may only guests hence, that his Fortunes lay in that Island. And this was pretence enough for his Enemies to accuse him to the Magistracy as a Foreigner, and as a false Usurper of the Privileges which Athens allowed her Citizens. They say he came off with great Applause from this Charge, by only naming one Philip an Athenian Freeman for his Father, and proving it with two Verses of Homer, 
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b Vit. Graec. per S holiast.   
I take my Mother's Word: My Mother vows  
'Twas He: I know not: who can swear he knows?   
Thus wherever he was born, he had the Honour to be admitted free Denizen of Athens, whether Nature had given him a Title to it; or whether his Ingenuity supplied him with as fair a Right.  
His Native Courage and Honour and his Professed aversion to a servile Government, deserved to procure him the highest Employments in the State. But perhaps he did the Commonwealth as much service on the Comic Stage, as he could have done in the Council or in the Army. 'Twas he, that dared entertain the whole City at the Expense of the Magistrates Reputations; could inform them of the pernicious Designs of their Leading Officers: And could himself Act a Cleon, a Powerful Villain; when every one of the Common Players declined so dangerous a Part 
a 〈◊〉 Graec. . 'Twas he, that by the same bold Method of Instruction, could remind a whole People of the defects in their Public Justice; and of the Miscarriages in their Politics, and in their Arms. And what was the hardiest Enterprise of all, could attack their Superstitious Worship, without incurring those general Resentments, which had fallen on Aeschylus and Euripides. for the same Good Attempt. It looks indeed somewhat like a Prodigy, to see the Comedian blacken the incomparable Socrates, by representing him as a despiser of the Popular Religion: while he himself in some other of his Pieces, has exposed the same vulgar Erros, and came off with Approbation. The reason of the strange difference can be only this, that Aristophanes by the Force and Authority of his Wit, held Athens more absolutely at Command, than the Good Philosopher, with all his Wisdom and with all his Virtue.  
All his Plays which are come safe to our Hands, appear to be a Set of Wise Reflections, on the Affairs and the Conduct of the Athenian People, through as Famous a Course of Years as any in History, the time of the Great Peleponnesian War. And therefore Plato showed a great deal of Judgement, as well as a great deal of private Esteem; when he recommended Aristophanes' Works to Denys the Tyrant; who had desired to be informed of the Condition and the Polity of Athens 
a Vit. Graec. .  
The Chorus in the Acharnian, whom there has been occasion to cite before, take care to let us know what Name and Character their Poet bore at home, and abroad. They had been reminding the Audience of some Good Offices Aristophanes had done the City by the Power of his Comic Muse; and then they carry on the bold Vaunt in such strains as these. 
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b Pag. 401.   
This is the Man, who blessed You with his Service;  
And taught the wrangling Tribes to use their Power.  
And now Your Tributary Friends from far  
Flock to the Town to see the Sacred Poet  
Who dares speak Truth, and hazard Life for Justice.  
So far his Bold Exploits have spread his Fame;  
That when the mighty Persica Monarch held  
The Spartan Envoys, wondering at his Questions▪  
He first demanded which o'th' Rival States  
Rid Chief at Sea: and next, which People lived  
Under the wise Correction of our Author.  
For they, cried the Great King, must needs Reforms  
And, while they take the Poet to their Counsels;  
Under his Conduct may Command the World.   
But after all the fair parts of his Character, there lies an eternal reflection on his good Humour at least, if not on his Virtue and Principles, that he should profess himself a mortal Enemy to the two wisest Athenians of his Time Socrates and Euripides.  
We have a full History of his Wicked Attempt against the Philosopher, delivered by Aelian 
a Var. Hist. l. 2. cap. 13. ; whether truly or not may be enquired by and by, his Relation is to this purpose. Anytus and the other Accusers who had formed a Design against Socrates' Credit and Life, were not so senseless as to imagine, that the Judges would be very willing to receive an Impeachment of the Wisest and the Best of Men. And therefore they concluded it would be the best way of proceeding to prepare the Minds of the Athenians, by raising the Scandal by Degrees. In order to this, they hired Aristophanes, with the consideration of a good round Sum, to expose the Philosopher on the Stage. They instructed him too which way to direct the satire. To represent Socrates as an impertinent Virtuoso, and a trifling Disputant; one that could argue Pro and Con at his Pleasure, and prove Right Wrong, and Wrong Right in the same Breath: And especially to hint at his introducing new kinds of Daemons, and Powers unheard of before, as if he slighted the Common Deities, and the present manner of their Worship.  
Aristophanes, who had no more honesty than his Poverty would allow, easily swallowed the Bribe; and falling to work according to their directions, composed the Comedy of the Clouds. The Athenians, who expected nothing less than to see such a Great Man ridiculously personated in the Theatre, at first were in a general wonder and surprise. But being naturally envious, and apt to detract from those Persons, whose Learning or Virtue had raised them above the common Level; they were afterwards tickled with the pleasant satire; and gave the Prize to Aristophanes with universal Applause.  
On the Faith of Aetian, we commonly build our Notions of this Transaction: And agree to condemn all Athens of as much Folly and Madness for approving the Poet's Slanders, as we do the Poet himself for venting them. Even the most ingenious Madam Dacier, who has lately given us the two first of Aristophanes' Comedies in so fine a Dress; is not so kind as to vindicate the Credit of the Philosopher, or the Judgement of the Audience: While observing only 
a In Pref.  that there was no need of corrupting the Poet with a Bribe, She seems to admit the rest of Aelians' Story as a true Relation. But how will the Scene be altered, if, after all, the Divine Philosopher should appear to have been vindicated by the Common Voice of the Judges: while the profane Poet was so far discountenanced, as to see the Comic Prize given to a much Inferior Performer? Yet as fair a Conjecture as this may be drawn from the Play itself, as we now have it. For that Parabasis inserted in the Chorus between the first and second Acts 
b Pag. 156. , is nothing else but a direct Address, made by the Poet to the People, commending himself, as the most experienced Man in his Art, and this for the best of all his Pieces: And at the same time complaining of their unkindness; kindness; that, with all these advantages, they should before despise and damn his Play, and deny him the public Testimony and Reward. Now the Old Scholiasts agree to expound this of the ill success which the Clouds met with at their first Presenting; when Cratinus and Amipsias were Crowned for the best Comedians; and Aristophanes exploded with universal Scorn. 'Twas very Natural for the Poet, after the first Misfortune, to correct his Beloved Peice against a second Trial; and to add this Speech, by way of expostulation with the Audience; and to beg a more favourable Sentence: And therefore it may well serve for a Prologue, according to the present Laws of the Theatre, as Madam Dacier has placed it in her Translation.  
So far then the whole Body of the Athenians are justified, that they did not encourage the Poet's first Attempt, in exposing their Great Master and Instructor. But if it could be made out farther, that this Piece was never revived on the Stage, tho' corrected by the Author; they would come off with Honour from the whole Accusation. Yet this Point too will admit of a probable Proof in their Defence. For one of the old Scholiasts when he is expounding the Parabasis already mentioned, says expressly 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
a pag. 158. . There are no Memorials which explain the Acting of two CLOUDS: or, there are no Memorials which make the Clouds to have been Acted twice. As for the other Old Gentleman, who in his Illustrations prefixed to the Piece, affirms it to have been presented a second time: He fixes that time in the very next Year when Aminias was Archon. But now in that very Year when Aminias was Archon, Aristophanes' other Comedy of the Wasps was Played, as all agree. And in this Piece of the Wasps when the Chorus desire the Audience 
b Pag. 50●. , not to receive the Poets Labour so unkindly as they had done before; the Scholiast only observes, that The Year before, he presented his first Clouds, and came off with disgrace. Yet here he had a fair opportunity of telling us, that it was Acted a second time more fortunately; and that in this very Year, if the thing had been really true. This is the Argument urged by the most Learned Palmerius 
a In Exercitat. p. 731. . Yet supposing that Question to be incapable of a decision, whether or no the Clouds was twice Presented: Since we have demonstration that it was once certainly exploded, when it came on the Stage; this is enough to alleviate in a great measure the heavy Censure, which has lain so many Ages on the Athenian Auditory; and to show that Aelian was more a Lover of Socrates than of Truth; when to advance the Character of the Philosopher's Patience and Magnanimity, he traduced the Virtue and the Sense of the whole City. There is one part of his Narration yet behind, which may be proved grossly false; and will therefore put a better Colour on our Suspicion of the rest. He would persuade us that the Accusers of Socrates, got him thus ridiculed in a Play, as a Preparation to his Public Arraignment; and to try how the People would bear such an Attempt. But now, since it appears from several Passages in the Play 
b Palmer. Exercitat. p. 729.  that it was written, while Cleon was alive; and Cleon dying, as Euripides 
c Lib. 5. p. 297.  has recorded, in the Tenth Year of the Peleponnesian War, that is, in the Third Year of the 89th Olympiad: It is very strange if this should pass for the Introduction to the Trial and Condemnation of the Philosopher; which happened in the 95th Olympiad, above Twenty Years after Cleon's Death, and therefore more after the Acting of the Clouds. So that there's no occasion to suppose any other reason for Aristophanes' Undertaking, but the necessary disagreement between the licentiousness of the Old Comedy, and the strictness of the Old Philosophy. And then his hatred to Euripides, the Philosophical Poet, may be in a great measure attributed to the same Cause. It is well known, that Socrates would never by his good will enter the Theatre, but to hear some performance of that Tragedian; whom he esteemed as much a Preacher of Morality as himself. It is therefore a most lamentable mistake of the Author of the Latin Argument 
a Pag. 207.  prefixed to Aristophanes' Frogs; when he tells us, that the Comedian wrote that Play to be revenged on Euripides, for his Tragedy of Palamedes, under whose borrowed Name, he had upbraided the Athenians with the Murder of the Great Philosopher: Whereas the Death of Euripides and the Acting of the Frogs, are always placed in the 93d Olympiad, and the Condemnation of Socrates, never before the Ninety first.  
We are not informed how long Aristophanes lived; it is probable he reached a great Age, since we may reckon near Forty Years that passed between his Acharnian and his Plutus, the first and the last of his Comedies which we now have.  
The Honorary Distich composed on him, as is thought, by Plato, will make large amends for the loss of his Epitaph. 
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Seeking a Shrine, that ne'er should be Defaced;  
The Graces pitched on Aristophanes' Breast!   
That Plato was indeed his Great Friend and Admirer, Olympiodorus assures us in his Life of the Philosopher. And this Epigram, if Genuine, together with the Recommendation of his Works to Dionysius, were sufficient marks of this Esteem. But it happened a little unluckily, that the incomparable French Lady, in the Preface to her Translation should remark farther; that To testify more particularly the Respect he entertained for the Poet, be gave him the best Place in his SYMPOSIUM; and put under his Name the fine Discourse which he makes of Love: giving us to understand by this, that ARISTOPHANES was the only Man, who could talk agreeably of that Passion.; For whoever compares the Speech that Aristophanes makes in that Dialogue, to explain his foul Notion of Love, with those of the other Speakers on the same Subject; will be far from thinking that he has the best Place in the Banquet; and from allowing that to be a fine and an agreeable Description of a Natural Passion, which is an open Panegyric on the most Unnatural of Vices. This Observation cannot seem to detract from the just Praise of Madam Dacier: A Man can scarce think on Her, and the admired Partner of Her Studies and of Her Bed; without addressing Her with Claudian's old Compliment, a little altered, 
Conjux digna viro! nam tantum caetibus extat  
Faemineis, quantum supereminet Ille maritos.   
It's a received distinction of the Grecian Comedy, into the Old, the Middle and the New. The first was a Barefaced exposing of the Greatest Persons on the Stage; without the least disguise of the Subject or of the Name. This is the Liberty which Horace commends at the beginning of his Fourth satire. But he tells us the ill Consequences of it in his Art of Poetry. 
— in vitium libertas excidit, & vim  
Dignam lege regi. Lex est accepta: chorusque  
Turpitèr obticuit, sublato jure nocendi.  
Till, with licentious and abusive Tongue  
The Chorus wakened Laws coercive Powers,  
And forced them to suppress its Insolence.   
The Middle Comedy succeeded when this was prohibited by the State; and presented real faults and miscarriages, under the Disguise of Borrowed Names.  
The New or the Third sort, was an entire Reformation of the Stage to Civility and Decency; obliging the Poet, to suppose the Actions as well as the Names; and without making any particular reflections, to give only a Probable Description of Human Life.  
The Question is not decided whether, when Horace speaks of the taking away the licentiousness of the Chorus by Order of the Magistrates, he means that it was taken from the Old Comedy, or from the Middle. The Old Interpreters, and the Tribe of Modern Critics with Scaliger 
a De Poet. lib. 1. c. 7. p. 30.  at their Head, declare for the first Opinion. But Monsieur Dacier 
b Horace A. P. Ver. 284. , who has so often shown us Lucan's sight 
— Concurrere Bellum,  
Atque Virum—  advances the other exposition of the Words: as if Horace were not taking notice of the first Reformation of Comedy from the Old to the Middle; but of the later Regulation of the Middle into the New. But if each side were so generous, as to retreat a few steps, the difference might possibly admit some Accommodation. For while the first absolutely deny, and the other as positively affirms, the Middle Comedy to have had a Chorus, it might be maintained between both, that the Middle Species had indeed some kind of Chorus, but so moderated and so restrained, that Horace might properly say it was shamefully silenced, while it only lay under this Confinement. And thus both sides will be acknowledged portly in the right: Dacier while he asserts a Chorus in the Middle Comedy; and the other Critics when they tell us that the taking away the injurious Liberty of the Chorus, constituted (in a great measure) the Second Species of Comedy; and not the Third. Every one knows that the main opportunity which the Chorus had to abuse particular Persons, and to talk saucily of the Government, was in the Intermedes, or the long Speeches between the Acts. Now these being entirely Banished in the Middle Comedy; the Chorus might still retain the Part of a Common Actor, without Offence. As we see practised in Aristophanes' Plutus.  
'Twere happy, if he, as he has left us the only Collection of Grecian Comedies, had obliged us too with an Example of each Species. But whatever his Ancient or his Modern Illustrators may pretend, it will be impossible to find any more than the Old and the Middle Strain, in his Pieces which survive. And therefore those Learned Men must neod be overseen who will have the two Attic Laws forbidding, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to expose a Chief Magistrate openly in a Comedy, or, to Name any Person in those Pieces; to have been made in Aristophanes' Time 
a Vid. Sam. Petit. Comm. in Leg. Attic. p. 79, 80. : Or else he must have understood those Laws, as if they prohibited rather the Personating of a real Citizen, than the scouting him; rather the abusing him by Action, than by Words. For in the Plutus, but now mentioned, which is owned for the last and the most Reformed of his Pieces, he has severely reflected on several Persons, and those of the highest Rank; and has named them too in the Censure.  
If a Man was to attempt a Character of Aristophanes' Comedies in our Times, he would certainly begin with telling us, that we must not expect there, the Nicety of Rules, and the regular Conduct, which has added so many Graces to the Modern Stage. For in all his Pieces except the Plutus and the Clouds, the new Critics might look in vain for their Unities and their Ordonnance; which perhaps was one reason why Madam Dacier thought none of the rest fit to be put in her Country Garb: because in them only he seems as much a French Man in Contrivance, as her Translation makes him in Language. Tho' without doubt her main Argument for stopping at these Two, was, because all the rest smell so strongly of the Rude and Debauched Original of the Art, as very often to offend the Chastity of Common Ears; and much more the Modesty of a Lady.  
The 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Decorum of the Stage, and the Natural Characters of Men and Manners were Improvements that Comedy was then a Stranger to. The main Beauty and Design, being the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Ridicule; arising not from the real imitation of any Person or Action; but from the representing them rather quite different from their proper Character to make the Spectators laugh at something very odd and very surprising. Thus, as Mr. Dryden observes, " When we see Socrates brought upon the Stage, we are not to imagine him made ridiculous by the imitation of his Actions; but rather by making him perform something very unlike himself; something so childish and absurd, as by comparing it with the Gravity of the true Socrates, makes a ridiculous Object for the Spectators 
a Essay on Dramat. Poes'. p. 37. ."  
But then this Ridicule was mixed with so much sharpness, and sometimes virulency, that it gave the Audience not only a tickling Pleasure, but incensed them with a real hatred toward the Person exposed. And 'tis for this reason that Scaliger 
b Poet. l. 1. c. 8.  says Horace's way in satire, is the same as that of Aristophanes in Comedy.  
Plutarch, whose Sense and Judgement are as much respected and admired as any thing in Antiquity, has left a most heavy Charge against Aristophanes' Writings; in his Comparison of him and Menander. Were the entire Piece extant, we might have some hopes of mollifying the Sentence, by some more favourable part of the Discourse. But in the Epitome of it, which we now have among his Moral Works, the Censure stands very severe. The chief Crimes he objects against our Poet, are, that he makes use of base, scurrilous and nauseous Language; and now and then affects a Tragical instead of a Comical Style. That he observes not the difference of the Persons that speak, nor applies thoughts and words accordingly; but without any Nature or Decorum, brings in Gods, Heroes, Kings, Citizens, Old Men and Women, Fathers and Sons, all so exactly like one another, in their Phrase and Talk, that they have nothing in the World to distinguish them but their Habit. That his Jokes wound and exulcerate instead of Curing. That he never attempts any Character, but he is sure to spoil it: While, if he's to represent a Cunning Fellow, he does not make him Politic, but downright Wicked: If a Countryman, instead of describing Ignorance and Caution, he gives us the Picture of a mere Fool: If he raises Laughter in the Audience, it proceeds from the dulness of the Jest, and is directed not against the Subject but against the Poet: And, if he's to describe the soft Passion of Love, from Mirth and Gaiety, he turns it to looseness, and immodest Freedom.  
Now the greatest part of this Accusation, may be easily wiped off from the Poet and thrown upon the Times. The Old Comedy, we know, had then the Command of the Stage: And all the nauseous kinds of obscene Ribaldry were as essential to that, as Nature and Decency were to the New. The severity of Jests was their main Beauty: And tho' this might (as he says) ulcerate and wound the Person exposed, yet to be sure, it did not sail to tickle the Envious Audience. He seems a little unjust when he charges the Poet's Jokes with Dulness, whereas there are many the most merry and diverting in the World. But supposing they did not take in so polite an Age as Plutarch's: this is no reason why they might not make an Old Grecian Audience burst with Laughter, while the Genius of the Times admitted nothing else for Wit. We see Horace scouts the Jests of Plautus which were the Wonder of his Forefathers: And the Case is the same with our Chaucer: That being now applicable enough to either of the three, which an Ingenious Gentleman observes of the last; 
In vain he Jests in his unpolished Strain;  
And tries to make his Reader laugh in vain.   
What Plutarch objects farther of the Poet's not observing the Rule of applying the proper Language and Manners to each Sex and every Age and Condition, is grounded on as bad a bottom. For this was a Perfection of the New Comedy; but neglected with universal allowance in the Old. Not that such a Liberty justified absolute Contradictions in the same Character; but only the straining of that Character something beyond Nature and Reality; to surprise and amuse the Spectators. Thus we find such Thoughts and Words, and Designs given to a Parcel of Mannish Strumpets, as would almost exceed the true Boldness of the other Sex. Thus we see an ill-mannered Citizen, painted with the Bluntness and Stupidity of a Rustic: And the Grave Socrates represented with as great a mixture of Folly and Madness, as our Sir Nicholas Gimcrack.  
That part of the Charge too must be confessed, where Aristophanes is said to affect in many places, a Tragic Style. But than 'twill be as easily defended, as granted. For even according to Horace's strict Rules, which were calculated for the last Reformation of the Stage; tho' 
Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult:  
Inter dùm tamen & vocem Comoedia tollit.   
If Horace's Distinction is not taken for a full excuse, because it seems only to allow here and there some Passionate and Great Strokes in a Comedy, and not a General Loftiness of the whole Pieces. Yet this too is very pardonable, when the Design requires a ridiculous height of affected Eloquence and Style. Thus, in the Parliament of Women, while the Grave Matrons strut in their Husband's , and seize the Administration of the State into their Hands; 'tis fit they should Talk, as well as Act and Look like Senators.  
There is indeed one Part, throughout almost the whole Course of Aristophanes' Plays, which is written in a loftier Strain than ordinary: but which too will be excused as soon as named. Whoever understands the Nature and Use of the Chorus, cannot be offended that it's Generous and Manly Part, is shown in Grave and Elevated Verse: And that the Poet does not exhort to Virtue, in the same merry Style which encounters Vice. To tell the Athenians in a direct Address, the Folly of some of their Counsels, and the Benefit of others: to inspire them with Heat and Vigour for a War: or to persuade them seriously to court a Peace: to return solemn Thanks to Heaven for Blessings on the City; and to implore the future Protection of the Tutelar Deities; were all Subjects too Noble for the Common Speech of a Comedian. And as long as the Chorus had sometimes the same Employment in both Species of the Drama, it could not be absurd if it used too the same Language in both.  
Upon the whole, Plutarch's main Quarrel with Aristophanes, is his not being like Menander. And this is as unjust a reason to condemn him; as if he should have fallen foul on his own Theseus for not using the same Arms as Romulus, or censured Romulus for not fight with the Conduct and the Discipline of Julius Caesar. For the Old Comedy as well as the Old Method of War, was agreeable to its proper Age. And if the later Improvements in both, should be acknowledged to be founded on better and more universal Reason: Yet we have not so much pretence to be angry with those ancient Masters for neglecting them, as with Nature for not putting them into their Heads.  
But Aristophanes' Credit does not need so poor a Plea, as the Rudeness of the Times to support it. For tho' we should grant his Characters to be false, his Jokes Malicious or Obscene; and his Designs irregular: Yet the Excellencies of his pure Style will always keep up his Name at a just height in the World. He has been long acknowledged on all hands for the happy Engrosser of all the Charms, and all the Delicacies of the Language he adorned; and for the Great Treasurer of the Attic Graces. And certainly we may be better contented to scramble among some Dirt and Rubbish for all the Grecian Beauties in Aristophanes; than to dig through much deeper heaps of Ordure for a few Latin Elegancies in Petronius.   

 depiction of Theocritus 
THEOCRITUS.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in marmore   
THEOCRITUS.  
AMong all the Complaints that have been made against the Old Tribe of Grammarians and Commentators, there is not one with less injustice taken up, than that which taxes them with their hard usage of Theocritus' Story. For, as if it were impossible for them to agree in their Verdict, tho' upon the plainest Evidence; we find them strangely divided in their accounts of the Age and Country of this Poet; when, all the while, he himself, if they would have taken his Word, has settled both the Points beyond Dispute.  
In an Epigram commonly set in the front of his Poem, and perhaps according to the Author's Original Design, he thus acquaints us with his City and Family. 
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Chios can lay no Title to My Muse;  
But I'm Theocritus of Syracuse,  
Praxagoras and famed Philina's Son;  
And I ne'er wrote a Verse but was my own.   
And then, as to his Age, one would think 'twere impossible that should raise a Quarrel, while the two Idylliums' remain, addressed to Hiero King of Syracuse, and to Ptolemy Philadelphus of Egypt. This Hiero was the same famous Prince whose Actions are recorded in the first Book of Polybius' History. He recovered the Regal Honour to his Family, after it had been lost almost Two Hundred Years: beginning his Reign in the Second Year of the 126th Olympiad, as Casaubon has made out in his Observations on that Historian 
a Pag. 127. etc. . Tho' Pausanias 
b Lib. 6. p. 365.  makes him to have obtained the Crown in the Second Year of the 120th Olympiad; and tho' Casaubon, when he wrote his Lections on Theocritus 
c Pag. 283. , has followed Pausanias in the Mistake. As for Ptolemy Philadelphus, the Commencement of his Reign is constantly fixed in the 123d Olympiad.  
Hiero, tho' a Prince who made a great noise in the World by the Fortune of his Arms, and by the Fame of his Good Government; yet seems to have expressed no great Affection for Letters. Which is supposed to have been the occasion of Theocritus' Sixteenth Idyllium, inscribed with Hiero's Name: where the Poet asserts the dignity of his own Profession, complains of the poor encouragement it met with in the World; and after a very Artisicial manner, touching on some of the Noblest Virtues of the Prince, shows what a Brave Figure he would have made in Verse, had he been as good a Patron, as he was an Argument, to the Muses.  
It's probable, this Unkindness of Hiero was the main reason which prevailed with Theocritus to leave Sicily for the Egyptian Court; where King Ptolemy then sat, Supreme Precedent of Arts and Wit. And we may guests that the Poet met with kinder Entertainment at Alexandria, than he had enjoyed at Syracuse, from his famous Panegyric on Ptolemy, which makes his Seventeenth Idyllium; and in which, after the Praises of his Race, his Power, and his Riches, he extols his Generous Protection of Learning and Ingenuity, as something beyond the degree of common Virtues and Excellencies.  
There are no farther Memorials of the Poet's Life to be gathered from his Works, except his Friendship with Aratus the famous Author of the Phaenomena. To Him he addresses his Sixth Idyllium; His Loves he describes in the Seventh; and from Him he borrows the pious Beginning of the Seventeenth.  
Theocrius lies under an unhappy censure in relation to his Death. For if Ovid mean's Him by the Syracusian Poet in his Ibis, he must seem to have suffered, either from his own, or from other Hands, the shameful Fate of a Malefactor 
* 
Vtque Syracosio praestrict à fauce Poëtae,  
Sic animae laqueo sit via clausae tuae.  . But it will not be very insolent to say, that in such a trivial Business Ovid himself might be mistaken. For tho' the Old Commentators on the place, tell us a grave Story of Theocritus' Execution, as there hinted at, and the occasion of it; yet 'tis possible the whole matter may lie in confounding Theocritus the Rhetorician of Chios, with Theocritus the Poet of Syracuse; tho' the Latter in his Epigram already set down, has taken particular care to be known and distinguished from his Namesake. Now it's true enough, as Plutarch 
a Sympos. l. 2. , and Macrobius 
b Saturnal. l. 7. c. 3.  will witness, that Theocritus of Chios was Executed, by order of King Antigonus: and the reason of his Misfortune was his most unseasonable Wit. For having committed a very high Crime against that Prince, (who, by the way, had but one Eye) and He promising him a Pardon, provided he would come into his Presence to accept it; his Friends were very urgent in hastening his Journey to Court, and told him he need not question having his Life saved, as soon as ever he should appear to his majesty's Eyes: Nay then, (cried Theocritus) I am a Dead Man, if that be the only Condition of my Pardon. And this coming to Antigonus' Ear, He justly esteemed the Raillery an addition to the former Treason, and accordingly ordered Justice to proceed.  
It cannot fairly be omitted, that the attributing the Fate of Theocritus the Rhetorician to Theocritus the Poet, was an easier slip, in as much as the former also pretended to some knack in Verse, and has an Epigram or two preserved in Laertius and Plutarch.  
Tho' Theocritus passes in common Esteem, for no more than a Pastoral Poet; yet he is manifestly robbed of great part of his Fame, if his other Pieces have not their proper Laurels. For (not to speak of the few little Epigrams) as the larger share of his Idylliums', cannot properly be called the Songs of Shepherds, so they are in too great repute, to be banished from the Character of their Author.  
At the same time he ought, no doubt to lay his Pastorals, as the Foundation of his Credit. And upon the Claim he will be admitted for the happy Finisher, as well as for the Inventor of his Art; and will be acknowledged to have excelled all his following Rivals, as much as Originals usually do their Copies. He has the same advantage in the Rural, as Homer had in the Epic Poesy; and that was, to make the Critics turn His Practice into Eternal Rules, and to measure Nature Herself by his accomplished Model. And therefore, as to enumerate the Glories of Heroic Numbers is the same thing, as to cast up the Sum of Homer's Praises; so to set down all the Beauties of Pastoral Verse, is no more than an indirect way of making so many short Panegyrics on Theocritus. Indeed, Theocritus has been so much happier than Homer, as Virgil's Eclogues are reckoned more unequal Imitations than his Aeneis.  
It must be owned that the Dialect which Theocritus wrote in, has a great share in his Honours. The old Dorian Phrase seems to have been introduced on purpose for these Compositions: Or one would think this was the plain Language of the Golden Age; and that the Poet had expressed the Speech of these Good Mortals, as well as the Manners. On the other hand, many excellent Judges have maintained, that his Muse now and then, rather shows her ill-breeding than her simplicity: that her Country Air and Tone are both a little uncouth; at least that they appear so to the elegancy and the niceness of Modern Times. Now to this Censure it might, with submission, be returned; that unless the Shepherds are allowed some ruder liberties in their Words and Carriage, they will seem to be abridged of the Privileges of their Nature and their Condition. For tho' they ought not to be either grossly stupid, or critically refined; yet it would be a safer error to let them smell rank of the Field, than to deck them with the least spruceness of the City. We see the ill effects of the contrary practice, in the famous Pastorals of the Italians and of the French; who have turned their Swains into Courtiers, for fear of making them Clowns.  
It seems indeed, reasonable enough, that the Purity of Modern Tongues should not admit the use of a grosser Dialect, even in Pastoral Pieces: Tho', as for ourselves, the Scotch-Songs which pass with so much applause, show that it is not impossible to revive this old Conduct among Us with Success. However, Theocritus is not to be judged by the Manners of our Times, but by his own. We must not conceive the Performers in His Pastorals like those in Spencer's 
Feeding their Flocks upon the Hills of Kent,  But in the rude Fields of Ancient Sicily: and here they may be as rustic as they please, without offence; tho' there perhaps they ought to have been more cautious and more decent.  
It's certain Quintilian, however he has been of late misconstrued, never intended his Judgement on Theocritus for a Reproach, when he observes, that His Rustical Muse was not only afraid to appear in the Forum but even in the City 
a Instit. l. 10. c. 1. . For the Rhetorician could mean no more, but that the Language and the thoughts of Theocritus' Shepherds ought neither to be imitated in Public speaking, nor in any Gallant Composure. Yet the Poet might for all this, be admirable in his way, as indeed, Quintilian in the same place expressly pronounces him.  
But should the Dialect of Theocritus not be admitted among his Graces, he can produce enough besides to secure his Rural Crown from the boldest Competitor. Mr. Dryden acknowledges him to have been raised above Virgil himself, by the inimitable tenderness of his Passions; by the propriety of his Wit, never departing from the Plains and Cottages; and by an Art that he has of betraying his Learning; (as his Nymphs do their Love) merely by endeavouring to conceal it. These Excellency's Mr. Dryden 
b Preface to the Second Miscellan.  would fix to distinguish the Sicilian Poet, from all others in the World: And to pretend to confirm His Judgement, would be the same rashness as to oppose it.  
To say nothing of Virgil, who disdain's a meaner Censor, as well as a meaner Translator than Mr. Dryden; it will be no breach of modesty to affirm, that the greatest part of the succeeding Pastorals, are as far distant from these Ornaments, as from the Age that produced them for their Patterns. The Persons introduced have not only the Speech, but the Address and the Carriage of Gentlemen: Their Love is the highest Gallantry, and their Wit the choicest Invention. Our own Incomparable Sir Philip Sidney has fallen into the common humour, tho' not in the common fault. Some of his Shepherds talk in as fine a Strain of Sense and Elegancy, as if each was a true Philisides: Showing Wits (as Palladius observed) that might better become such Shepherds as Homer speaks of, who are Governors of the People, than such Senators who hold their Council in a Sheepcote 
a Arcadia. pag. 14. . But then with what a matchless Judgement has that Noble Author framed a necessity for his Practice? The Old Epique Poets, when their Heroes accomplish any Adventure that seems placed beyond the reach of Human Force, salve the Probability, by joining the miraculous assistance of the Gods: And, Sir Philip, when his Rural Lover's act and talk above the Nature and Character of the Common Inhabitants of the Plains, refers the whole Business to the eztraordinary Influence of Heaven. He is careful to let us know that the particular favour of Providence had not more distinguished His Arcadia from other Countries by the Benefits of the Climate and of the Soil, than by the Parts and the Wisdom of the People, and that these were as Common Blessings as the others: The Muses having chose this Country for their chief repairing Place; and having bestowed their Gifts so largely here, that the very SHEPHERDS had their Fancies lifted to so high Conceits, as the Learned of other Nations were content both to borrow their Names, and to imitate their Cunning 
b Arcadia. pag. 9 .  
Those Idylliums' of Theocritus, which are not admitted for Pastorals, are of so different kinds, that no Man has yet attempted to reduce them into Classes. Salmasius 
c In Solin.  contents himself to say, that we may call them what we please besides Pastoral Verses. And, Heinsius 
d Lect. Theocrit. Cap. 1.  tho' he tells us he could distinguish them, yet wisely declares he will leave the Task, for other Men to try their Judgements upon. But perhaps it would save a needless Trouble to call them altogether by the Modern Name of Poems on several Occasions. And this notion Heinsius himself must in some measure favour; while he observes that the Ancients gave them the Title of Idylliums' for no other reason, but to express the variety of their Natures. But tho' they cannot be divided into Heads fit to express their form, yet they may fall under such as will distinguish their Praises. For the Nine first, and the Eleventh being all that are acknowledged true Pastorals, there are abundance of others, which are therefore only not Pastorals, because the Scene of Business does not lie in the Plains and Feeding Grounds, but in some other part of the Country; not among the Shepherds, but among their Neighbours as rude and simple as themselves: Such as the Reapers in the Tenth Idyllium, the Gossips in the Fifteenth, the Fishermen in the Twenty-first, etc. Now these Pieces have a right to most of the fine things that are usually said of the Pastorals, to which they are so nearly allied. Several others of the Idylliums' are little Copies directed to private Friends, on some particular account; as the Twelfth, the Twenty-eighth, the Twenty-ninth, etc. These neither agree all in Dialect, nor in Measures, yet for their general Air of familiar Simplicity and Morality, meet with a common Esteem. The Nineteenth and the Thirtieth, on Cupid stung by a Bee, and on The Death of Adonis, seem both to be written with the Spirit and the delicacy of Anacreon; the latter only having the farther Benefit of His Numbers: tho' the first too has now recovered that Advantage in the English which it wanted in the Greek.  
But the most admired among these Miscellaneous Pieces, are the Panegyrics and the Hymns, addressed to Ptolemy, Hiero, Castor, and Pollux, and Hercules; by which Theocritus has shown, that he (as well as Virgil did afterwards) could upon occasion; raise his Sicilian Muse to a loftier Strain; that he understood the Gaitey and Wisdom of the Court, and the Bravery of the Camp, as well as the simple honesty and hardiness of the Country: and, in short, that he could as well sing the Combats of Heroes, as the Contentions of Shepherds.   

LYCROPHON.  
LYCOPHRON was a Native of the City Chalcis in Euboea. His Father Socleus was a Grammarian by Profession; after whose Death, he had the luck to be Adopted by Lycus the Historiographer 
a Suid. . We may be satisfied of his Proficiency under both their cares, by just looking on his Poem that survives; and we shall be ready to acknowledge, that, whatever other Fortune they might leave him, he was certainly the full Inheritor of their proper Arts. One would almost think, that the only design of the Work, was to unite their Collections, as he had done their Families: and that the Verbal Stories of Socleus, joined to Lycus' Historical Treasures, had furnished Cassandra with all the Oracles she delivers.  
It is necessary to fall thus suddenly from the Author to his remaining Labour, because he has scarce any other Memorials to entertain us with. We are told indeed, that he lived under Ptolemy Philadelphus, and made a Star in the Poetical Pleias, which shone in that Reign 
b Ibid. , Ovid 
c 
Vtque Cothurnatum periisse Lycophrona narrant,  
Sic animae laqueo sit via clausa tuae,  in Ibin.  informs us farther that he died by the stroke of an Arrow. We hear too, that he was a very Voluminous Author, tho' only one of his Pieces has arrived at our Age; that besides his Critical Essays in Prose, He exercised himself with fair Success in almost all the Fields of Poesy, from the loftiness of Tragedy to the humble Spirit of Anagram, which lays claim to the honour of his Invention. But these Notices are of little concern to one that is impatient to be acquainted with his Raving Lady, and who will gladly let Cassandra's Story make amends for the deficiency of Lycrophon's.  
The common account of this unhappy Prophetess informs us, that she was Daughter to King Priam of Troy, and that being courted in no very Honourable way, either by Apollo, or as some will have it, by his Priests, upon promise of the Gift of Divination, if she complied; she first got possession of the Reward, and then honestly denied the service. But her baffled Suitor in revenge for the Injury, found a way to turn his Grant into a Curse. For, procuring it to be ordered by the Voice of the Oracle, that no Man should ever credit what Cassandra said; her Inspiration proved a desperate torment to her, instead of a Heavenly favour.  
This then is the foundation of Lycophrons' Piece. Cassandra, or as she was otherwise called, Alexandra, is supposed to be shut up in a close Tower, as well to keep her from frighting the People; as to try whether the Solitary Confinement might not bring her to her right Senses. During this restraint, her superstitious Old Father commands the Keeper to come and bring him a punctual Account of all that the Princess had said under her Fit. This Recital made by the Keeper, is the Form of the Poem. He gins with a promise of Faithfulness, and, having hinted to the King, how different a manner of Speech she had now used from her common strain, appearing a mere Sphinx, and affecting the darkest and the most perplexed thought and expression; he than proceeds to repeat her whole intricate Speech to the King. In which, beginning at the Voyage of Paris, who was then Sailed for Sparta on his amorous Expedition; She throws out in a most terrible Rant, a predictiof all the Miseries that should be occasioned by this Adventure: The Calamities of the ten Years Siege of Troy, and the no less strange Disasters, that should happen, as well to the returning Victors, as to the dispersed Relics of the Conquered People. At last she inquires into the Original Cause of the Quarrel between Europe and Asia; and, having described the stealing away of Europa, the Voyage of the Argonauts, and the other famous Old Contentions; she looks forward to the Design of Xerxes against Greece; and having reached the Times succeeding Alexander the Great, she there breaks off, upon a sudden remembrance that no Body will, at present, believe Her. And then the Keeper with a short Epilogue to the King, concludes the Poem: which is a kind of Tragic Monody, or Narrative of a single Person.  
Those who are not so equal Judges as to distinguish between the Design and the Execution, will be sure to condemn a Poet, whose chief Ends are Instruction and Delight, for using such a Conduct, as by rendering him wilfully unintelligible, must needs make him appear very unpleasant. But whoever can pardon Lycophron for the rashness of his Undertaking, cannot fail to applaud him for the greateness of his Success. If it be reckoned so glorious in a Modern Tragedian to hit the short Character of a raving Person, and to suit the Language to the extravagancy of the Condition: what an Atchieument was it, to fill a whole Piece with the single Representation of a Possessed Lady, and yet never to transgress against nature and decency? In drawing the Image of common Madness, 'tis enough to be handsomely absurd. But when the Frenzy is supposed to be Divine, and the Fit to proceed from a Miraculous Transport; then the●e must be a dark consistency of Speech as well an appearing distraction: There must be the obscure certainty, as well as the open fury of an Oracle. And what could better answer such a Project, than to join in one wild Discourse, almost all the Terms, and almost all the Adventures of the most copious Language, and of the most copious History in the World?  
If we add to this, the liveliness of the Transporting Passion, and the artificial strangeness of the Digressions; it will not be Honour enough, to fix this Piece as the best Epitome of the Grecian Tongue, and of the Grecian Fables: but Lycophron will maintain his Seat in the Constellation of Poets; how ever some late Critics have attempted to pull him from his Sphere. And tho' we should suppose, that he formerly made but a dark Figure in that Station; yet the Cloudy Spots are now happily removed, the Riddles and Mysteries are explained, and Cassandra is at last come into Credit and Esteem.   

CALLIMACHUS.  
CALLIMACHUS was born in Cyrene 
a Strab. l. 17. p. 838. , the famous City of Ancient Libya. His common Title of Battiades makes the Grammarians usually assign one Battus for his Father: But, perhaps he may as well derive that Name from King Battus the Founder of Cyrene, from whose Line, as Strabo 
b Pag. 837.  assures us, he declared himself to be Descended. We are not informed of the particular Year of his Birth; though sew of the Poets have been forgotten by Eusebius. However it's agreed, that he commenced his Fame under the Patronage of Ptolemy Philadelphus, and continued it in the Reign of his Successor Ptolemy Euergetes; whose Queen Berenice having Consecrated her Locks in the Temple of Venus, and a cunning Mathematician, having stolen them thence to Translate them to Heaven, gave occasion to the Fine Elegy of this Poet, which we have now only in the Latin of Catullus.  
Whoever was his Father, the Poet has paid all his Duties and Obligations to Him in a most delicate Epitaph, which we find in the Anthologia, and which shows that Martial had good reason to assign him the Crown among the Grecian Writers of the Epigram. The Old Gentleman is supposed thus to address the Visitants at his Tomb, 
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Stranger! I beg not to be known but thus,  
Father and Son of a CALLIMACHUS.  
Chief of a War, the first enlarged his Name;  
And the last sung what Envy ne'er shall damn:  
For, whom the Heavenly Muse admired a Child,  
On His Grey Hairs the Goddess always smiled.   
Before Callimachus was recommended to the favour of the Court, he taught School in Alexandria, and had the honour of breeding Apollonius the Author of the Argonauticks: who making him but an unkind requital for his Labour, provoked Callimachus to vent his Passion in an Invective Poem, levelled against his ungrateful Scholar, under the reproachful name of IBIS 
a Suid. in Callim. ; which furnished Ovid with a Pattern and a Title for his Biting Piece of the same Nature.  
How capable soever our Poet might be of the highest attainments in Verse; he seems to have had a particular fancy for short Copies. And when his envious Rivals used to allege this as their main objection against his Muse, that she could not attempt any thing of bulk; he gave them the ingenious Answer at the end of the Hymn to Apollo, which seems to be composed and introduced with all that Art, which Ovid makes the Great Excellency of Callimachus. 
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Sly Envy in his Ear Apollo told,  
He's poor that writes less than a Sea can hold.  
Apollo spurned the Monster off, and said,  
See vast Euphrates how his Billows spread;  
But see the Loads of Muck that press his side,  
And foul the Water, while they raise the Tide.  
But not with Liquor drawn at every Stream,  
Great Cere's Maids regale their Heavenly Dame:  
But some untainted Crystal Brook supplies  
It's spotless drops to purge the Sacrifice.   
The Scholiast on this place observes, that to stop the Mouths of these detractors, the Poet composed his Hecate, a Work of a larger size; now lost, but frequently cited by Grecian and Roman Authors.  
Those few Persons who have a right taste and a just esteem for these smaller Compositions, will think that Callimachius needed nothing else to ensure his Reputation. And if it be true, what Suidas reports, that he wrote above Eight hundred Pieces, he will stand free enough from the imputation of laziness, tho' he have no unwieldy Labour to produce in his own Defence.  
What we now have under his Name, are a few Hymns and Epigrams: the first of which as they make far the largest part of his Remains, so they are of the greatest Credit, and seem the main Foundation of his fair Character amongst his Modern Friends.  
It looks a little strange that Ovid 
a 
Battiades toto semper cantabitur orbe,  
Quamvis ingenio non valet arte valet.  Am. El. 15. l. 1.  when he gives him a place in his fine Catalogue of Poets, should pronounce him immortal, barely upon account of his Art, and at the same time expressly deny his Title to Wit.  
Indeed, we have still many prodigious Instances of his Art, as (besides the Apology already set down) the manner of bringing King Ptolemy's Praises into the Hymn to Jupiter, the making Apollo while yet in his Mother's Belly, Prophecy the same Prince's Victories; and the like. Yet it will be a difficult matter to persuade any one, who has considered the surprising Delicacy of his thought and turn, to compound for half his Applause, and to quit the credit of his Invention, for that of his Judgement. Both the Talents seem so happily tempered together, that 'tis hard to give an instance of one Virtue, without displaying the other in the same view. What can be a nobler proof of both, than the Gracefulness of those Transitions; where, while he is commending one Deity, he draws in another with so gentle force, as not to wrong the first Subject by obliging a new one? Of this kind is that admired stroke on Hercules in the Hymn to Diana: 
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There, watching at Jove's Gate, till closing Day,  
Mercury thy Arms, Good Phoebus takes thy Prey:  
Phoebus thy Prey, e'er Brave Alcides joined  
Th' Immortal Host: Now Phoebus has resigned  
His Glorious Task, and Blessed Alomena's Son  
Unwearied waits to lift the Venison down.  
Him, laughing all the Deathless Court survey's,  
And most the Dame whose Envy nursed his Praise.  
Till from thy Chariot, torn with matchless power  
He drags the struggling Bull, or Forrest Boar  
With hind-leg spurning. He, with sly address,  
Commends thy Labours in the Nobler Chase.  
‛ Scour, Goddess, scour the Forests, and pull down  
‛ The hurtful Herd; till rescued Mortals own  
‛ Thy Helping Power, like mine. Let Goats and Hares,  
‛ Unheeded climb the Cliffs, and lose their fears:  
‛ Are Goats and Hares injurious to Mankind?  
‛ Boars root the Plants, Boars vex the painful Hind,  
‛ And Bulls are Plagues: These, these must be suppressed.  
Thus He, and labours with th' unwieldy Beast.   
What can be a fairer Argument for the union of the same Talents, than those wise and delicious Sentences; which striking us suddenly in a work where one would not expect them, look as much like Inspiration as any thing that Poesy can produce? Two of these in the very first Hymn, may vie with the entire Labours of more bulky Authors. The first of them, is a fine Answer to the Modern Libertines, who from the fancied uncertainty of a future State, take occasion to live and die at a venture, and expect as good a Chance as their Neighbours. The Poet is speaking of Jupiter's Title to the Empire of Heaven, as a thing acknowledged and unenvied by his Two Brothers; and hence he reflects on the Folly of the Ancient Story-tellers, who would make the Three Sons of Saturn divide the Three Realms by Lot: 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
For who, yet blessed with Senses, would submit,  
A Lottery should decide his doubtful Right  
To Heaven or Hell? In things of equal State  
The Lot's of use, and ends the vain Debate:  
But those so Wide, that Distance cannot name  
The Space, for Distance is expressed by Them.   
The other is the concluding Strain of the Hymn; where he makes his Farewel-prayer to the Deity: 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Hail Father! Hail again! and send us down  
Virtue and Gold. For Gold is quickly gone,  
Unblessed with Virtue's Care; and Virtue's cold,  
Naked of Wealth: send Virtue down and Gold.   
Some Learned Men have endeavoured to make Ovid's Judgement, speak a more favourable sense. But whoever casts his Eyes on what Heinsius 
a Prolegom. in Hesiod.  has performed in that Cause, and considers how he is gravelled in the impossible Attempt; will be apt to imagine, that Ovid intended his Words should be understood according to their natural import, but that through a Spirit of Envy and Emulation, he has wilfully contracted his Rival's Praises. It's plain he had no higher ambition than to be thought superior to Callimachus; and he declares he should admire a Mistress who would honour him with that preference 
b 
Est quae Callimachi prae nostris rustica dicit  
Carmina; cui placeo, protinus ipsa placet.  Amor. l. 2. El. 4. .  
But the greatest testimonies of Callimachus' worth, and the foundation of his Character with the Ancients, were his numerous Pieces in the Elegiac Strain, Of these, we have only the Hymn on Minerva's Bath, and Catullus' Translation of the Copy, on Queen Berenice's Hair. The former seems, like his other Hymns, to incline most to the free Spirit of Lyriques; the curious Story of Tiresias making the greater part of the Poem. The other is more agreeable to our Common Notions of Elegy; and, as it is commonly printed with the Works of Tibullus and Propertius in the same Strain; so it may vie with the sweetest and the most exact of their Pieces. For instance, they have nothing of a more natural turn, than that thought which makes it a greater Honour to belong to the Queen's Head, than to have a place among the Constellations: the Star is supposed to speak, and thus Compliments its Mistress, 
Sed quanquam me nocte premunt vestigia diuûm,  
Luce autem canae Tethyi restituor;  
Non his tam laetor rebus, quam me abfore semper,  
Abfore me à Dominae vertice discrucior.  
Sydera cur retinent? utinam coma regia fiam,  
Proximus Arcturo fulgeat Erigone.  
But tho' all Night honoured with Feet Divine,  
And lodged with Tethys when I cease to shine;  
Th' unequal Glory Banished I contemn,  
Banished for ever from my Princely Dame.  
Ye Gods restore me to that Sacred Head,  
And let Arcture, unparted court his Maid!   
This Specimen, (which to be sure has lost nothing in the Latin Version) is of itself almost enough to justify Quintilian, when he gives Callimachus the Crown in Elegy 
a Lib. 10. c. 1. ; and to show that Propertius was not much out in his choice, when he pitched on Him for his Pattern 
b 
Inter Callimanchi sat erit placuisse libellos,  
Et cecinisse modis, pure poëta, tuis.  Lib. 3. Eleg. 5. .  
There is indeed another passage in Propertius which seems to contradict his former Judgement, and which is commonly alleged by those who pretend to censure Callimachus. It is in the Thirty third Elegy of the second Book, 
Tu satiùs memorem Musis imitere Philetam,  
Et non inslati somnia Callimachi.  
But, You my Friend, court sweet Phileta's Muse,  
And fly the Dreams of Swollen Callimachus.   
'Tis true by joining none with inslati in the construction, the difficulty is easily solved, and the supposed detraction turns into a Commendation. But 'tis much more rational to imagine that Propertius here censures some particular Work of Callimachus (at present not extant) as bombast and extravagant; advising his Friend to apply himself to some easier and more agreeable Labour. Scaliger judges the particular Piece to have been the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which Martial scout's as a hard obscure business; and which Propertius' Friend might then probably think of translating. This Conjecture may be farther improved from hence, that in one of the old Epigrams in the Anthologia, Callimachus is supposed to have been honoured with the Commands of the Muses in a Dream, for the undertaking that difficult Work. But whatever becomes of this point, it's impossible Propertius should design any general Reflection; since he declares it for his highest Wish, to be called the Roman Callimachus 
a 
 nostris tumefacta superbiat Umbria libris,  
Umbria Romani patria Callimachi.  .   

APOLLONIUS.  
APOLLONIUS was an Alexandrian, the Son of Hilleus or Silleus; as we learn from Suidas, and from the old Scholiasts; and these are the chief Authorities that can be expected for the Stories of those Poets, whom we reckon so far inferior to the rest in Age and in Wit.  
He studied under the Care of Callimachus, but proved a very ungrateful Scholar to that Great Man. Which reproach, together with the Revenge it brought upon him, has been hinted in his Master's Life. By this, we cannot doubt, but that he was Born under Ptolemy Philadelphus, and made his Figure in the World, in the Reign of the Succeeding Prince, Ptolemy Euergetes.  
He composed his first Essay of the Argonauticks, in the rash heat of his Youth; and, reading the Piece in public, came off with very poor success. The shame of this Disappointment, mortified him to such a degree, that he left his Country, and retired to Rhodes. Here, resolving to fix a considerable time, and setting up for a Professor of Rhetoric, he soon found his Name changed from Apollonius of Alexandria, to Apollonius of Rhodian; which has prevailed ever since, to the injury of his Native City.  
As the chief design of his wilful Banishment was to retrieve his Credit, by polishing his Work; so he plied the Project so hard at Rhodes, that having completed the Corrections and Improvements, and trying his Fortune once more in a Public Recitation, he gave a general satisfaction to the People, and had the Honour to be made free Denizen of their City. And then returning to Alexandria, and publishing his Poem, he was received with universal Approbation, and merited the Reward of succeeding Eratosthenes in the care of the famous Library.  
We hear no more of him, but, (what is very extraordinary) that they buried him in the same Tomb with his ●…aster Callimachus. Either to make a feigned Reconcilement after Death between Persons that could not brook any while they were living: Or to put a fair covering on the Quarrel, and to hid it from the knowledge of Posterity.  
Tho' the Subject of Apollonius' Poem, be one of the Noblest and most celebrated Actions of Antiquity, the Expedition in search of the GOLDEN FLEECE, yet he has scarce the happiness to be ranked with the Old Masters of Epic Verse. One great reason of his disappointment, must needs be the advantage Ovid has had of him, in touching on the same Adventure: All Persons being more inclined to hear an imperfect Relation from a Gentleman, than to bear the tedious exactness of a professed Scholar.  
But tho' in Contentions of the present Times the partiality of the Judges be a fair Plea for a vanquished Rival, yet it will not hold in Cases that have been trying for many Ages together. A Thousand Years once passed over, leave no more room for injustice, than they do for Envy: And whoever is worsted in so long a Combat, must attribute the miscarriage, not to the Credit of his Antagonist, but to his own Default. So that to assign the reason, why the Poem of the Argonauticks is so little in men's Mouths, and so much less in their hands, we should not run to the Favour of Ovid, but to the Failings of Apollonius.  
If then Horace's Rule be true, of 
— mediocribus esse Poetis  
Non Dii, non homines, non concessere column;  Apollonius has no hard measure in being denied an honourable Place among the Poets, since the ablest Pleaders in his Defence, could never make him rise above the middle way. Quintilian tells us, he wrote aequali quâdam mediocritate. And tho' Longin gives him the fair Title of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, yet it's plain he can mean no more, but that the Poet has fallen into no gross absurdities, but kept an even course of Writing. For whatever some may make of that Epithet, it looks very Suspicious that Longin designed it for no great Commendation; since he only brings in this Author, as an Example to confirm the Maxim, he had just laid down, that a middle Style without any faults, is not so eligible as a loftiness attended with many defects.  
It's probable, that what the two Grand Rhetoricians thus deliver as their opinion concerning Apollonius, was intended to reach no farther than his Thought and Style. But had it lain in their way to speak of his Conduct and Contrivance, they would not, perhaps, have been more favourable Judges. For they could never have discovered in him, the admired Arts of Institution and Mechanism, which they would put into the Desinition of Epic Poesy. And, as from the plain and unartificial course of the Action, they must have esteemed him a very Historical Poet; so, they could not but have reckoned him a very Poetical Historian too, from the liberty he has taken in measuring the time of the Adventure.  
Thus until a Second Rate be admitted in Poetry, Apollonius is not like to get a place in the List. Parnassus will be something like Sisyphus' Mountain to him: if his Muse cannot lift him to the very Top, she had as good never have carried him up halfway; while the Critics, not less severe than the Infernal Judges, cruelly thrust him down again, and force him out of her Arms.  
Yet Apolloneus' Friends can never be driven to Despair, while their Poet is acknowledged to have set Patterns for Virgil himself. As long as Dido own's her near Kindred to Medea, and Dares, and Entellus their resemblance to Amycus and Pollux, the Aeneis will keep up the Name of the Argonautick● in the World; as accomplished Statues and Paintings give a Value to their ruder Models; or, as the Story of Create Heroes sustains the Memory of those whom they conquered.  
For th●… Scaliger's rigorous sentence should prevail, and the Latin Poet be declared to have infinitely outdone the Grecian in every thing that he borrowed from him, yet, 
— non tam  
Turpe fuit vinci quam contendisse decorum:  And Aeneae magni dextrâ cadis, aught to be as great a consolation to a vanquished Poet, as to a dying Warrior.   

 depiction of Aratus 
ARATUS.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in nomismate aereo   
ARATUS.  
ARATUS was born at Soli 
a Strab. l. 14. , a famous City of Cilicia founded by the Wise Solon 
b Diog. Laert. in Sol. , and aftwards called Pompeipolis in honour of Pompey the Great 
c Strabo l. 14. . His Father's Name was Athenodorus and his Mother's Lenodora, or Letophila, as it is variously written. He was Scholar to Dionysius of Heraclea, the Stoic: on the Principles of which Sect, His Verses (as well as those of Manilius) are established.  
He wrote under the Patronage of Antigonus Surnamed Gonaras' King of Macedon; who began his Reign in the Hundred and Twenty-fifth Olympiad, as it is settled in Eusebius, and not in the Hundred and fifth, as we find it corruptly in the Life of the Poet commonly set before his Works. This Excellent Prince, besides his General Encouragement of Learned Men; is said to have admitted Aratus into a particular familiarity and esteem.  
The Old Scholiasts when they compile Aratus' Life complain grieviously of a Story that was got abroad, how King Antigonus, merely for the Jests sake, commanded Him to write of Heavenly Bodies, and Nicander of the Art of Medicine; whereas Nicander was an expert Astronomer, and Aratus a celebrated Physician, but both of them entire Strangers to one another's Arts. This Notion they gravely co●●●e by observing that Aratus and Nicander, were as far from being Cotemporaries as Twelve, (they might have said Twenty) Olympiads could make them. The former living in the time of the first Ptolemy King of Egypt, and the other under the Fifth Prince of that Name. But they never mention the occasion of this Vulgar Error for fear of injuring, in some measure, the Author they were to adorn. Otherwise, they might have fixed a Foundation for the Fancy in Tully's account of these Two Poets, given in his First Book de Oratore, where he tells us, " 'Twas a confessed Point among the Learned, that Aratus, a Man utterly ignorant of Astrology had written most elegant Verses about the Heavens and the Stars; and that Nicander of Colophon was beholden for his Georgics to his acquaintance with the Muses, not to his knowledge of the Country."  
If we omit here the Friendship Aratus maintained with Theocritus, (which has been already hinted under that Poet's History) we find no more of him; only that he Corrected Homer's Odyssey when it had undergone a desperate Course of Corruptions, and that he was sent for into Syria by King Antiochus, to perform the same Good Office to the Ilias 
a Vit. Graec. .  
His Work, which in many Old Editions passes for no more than a single Poem with the common Name of ΦΑΙΝΟΜΕΝΑ, has been thought since to make two distinct Pieces, the first only being called ΦΑΙΝΟΜΕΝΑ, and the Second Entitled ΔΙΟΣΗΜΕΙΑ. The former is properly Astronomical, giving an account of the Situation and the Affection, of the Heavenly Bodies; the other Astrological, showing the particular Influences, arising from their various dispositions, and relations. Yet whoever considers the Noble Beginning of the Phaenomena, and the plain entrance on the Diosem●ia without any Formality or Address; will still conclude them to be one Poem divided into Two Books.  
The late Italian and French Critics, extremely despise this Performance: because the Subject of it, according to their Notions, is not properly Poetical. Yet Cicero could tell us that Arate●… composed Ornatissimos atque optimos versus, most Polite, and most Excellent Verses: Yet Quintilian could declare, " that though the Matter of his Work vows Motion, having no Variety, no Passions, no Person that ever makes a Speech; yet he has fully answered his Argument, which was all that he proposed."  
Indeed, as the Honours done the Poet by the favours of King Antigonus, by the Labour of no less than Forty Greek Scholiasts, and above all by the Versions and Illustrations of Germanìcus Caesar, and of Tully; are sufficient Proofs what a Value Antiquity set upon his Compositions: So he is not altogether to seek in what may recommend him as forcibly to Modern Tastes, and to a new Reputation. For tho' the Doctrine of the Stars Dominion in Heaven, be almost as much out of fashion, as the Stories how they came thither; and tho' few will be at the pains to read on a Subject which they esteem but cramp Nonsense; yet Aratus has in some measure provided against that Misfortune, by introducing his Work, with such a Strain of Sense, of Wit, and of Religion; as if it does not charm Men to look quite through the Poem, yet will engage them to allow that first Essay the Praise of an entire Labour. It cannot be amiss to set it down in this place; because few Readers go any farther, and all aught to go thus far. 
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JOVE claims our opening Lays; by Mortal Strain  
Ne'er to be missed, ne'er to be left unsung.  
Jove, with Eternal Influence diffused,  
Fills the wide Compass of extended Things.  
His Hand the Spacious Earth compacted holds  
Marked into various Tracks: nor, with less force  
Binding, unites the Giddy Multitudes  
In Towns and Tribes. Blown by His Breath, the Sea  
Heaves up its liquid Vastness; or, more tame,  
Sinks in low Ports, and licks the crooked Shore.  
Jove with a Common Maintenance supplies  
His Human Sons: the numerous Family  
Live on their Universal Father's Store.  
Yet He, unused to feed an idle Race,  
Points out their Work; and to their daily Tasks  
Prompting, by Hunger's Admonition, calls.  
He shows us, when the ripened Soil demands  
The Spade, or labouring Oxen: when the Plants  
Crave a new Seat; and when the hopeful Seed,  
In Season cast, with quick Increase will thrive.  
Him therefore first, Him last we praise, and serve  
With earliest Offerings, and concluding Vows.  
Hail Father! Hail Eternal Miracle,  
Eternal Help! and Hail! Ye Jove's Firstborn!  
Sweet Muse's Hail! while Heaven my Voice employs,  
(If not unworthy I implore Your Aid)  
Assist, and raise my Numbers to my Theme.   
'Tis true indeed, that according to the exact nicety of Rules, it is not esteemed good Policy in a Poet, to open all his Strength and Riches at the first show. But perhaps that Maxim is to be understood only of Grand and Heroical Designs; not of those plainer Subjects, which being unable to support themselves by any real Worth and Greatness, may be ushered in with some inviting Address. Even in Poetical Buildings it is not absurd, to make the Front, the noblest Piece of the Work; when the Beauty of that, is to cover the disadvantage of the other Parts, which stand farther out of common sight and notice.  
As long therefore as the happy dependence of all Natural things on the Counsels of Heaven, is confessed to be the highest Subject of a Christian's thoughts as well as of a Poets; Aratus his Name is not likely to be lost, while Piety and Sense endure. Especially, since we find one of his Sentences honoured with a place in the Inspired Writings 
a Act. 17.28. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. , his Wit cannot now have a shorter Period than the Glorious Bodies it describes 
b 
Cum sole & Lunâ semper Aratus erit.  Ovid. Am. L. 1. El. 15. : And, if one may say so without indecency, the Situation of St. Paul will confirm the Prophecy of Ovid.   

NICANDER.  
NIcander was a Colophonian, as not only Suidas, but Tully and Macrobius call him. Therefore Tanaquil Faber had no reason to pass such a hard censure on Suidas for not making him a Native of Claros. It's true he calls himself a Clarian at the end of one of his Pieces now extant, and at the beginning of the other. But 'twas usual with the Men of Colophon to borrow an Epithet from their Neighbouring City, which the Temple of Apollo Clarius made so renowned in the World: as may hereafter be observed in the Story of Antimachus, concerning whom, the French Critic has published the same mistake.  
Nicander lived in the time of Attalus the last King of Pergamus; who left the Roman People Heirs to his Kingdom: that is, about the 160th Olympiad. He was famous for the triple Profession of Physic Grammar and Poesy: and has a vast number of Pieces in Prose and Verse, attributed to him in Ancient Authors, which are reckoned up by Vossius in his Fourth Book de Historicis Graecis.  
In all probability the Muses had the least share in his Fame. For tho' Cicero indeed commends his Georgics, as a Work of a very happy Vein, yet in his common Character, his Learning runs much higher than his Wit. The two surviving Poems of the Theriaca and the Alexipharmaca, (both spent in the same general Subject of providing against the mischiefs of poisonous Creatures, tho' by different Medecines) are manifestly intended more for Instruction than Delight; more for the assistance of the Memory, than the entertainment of the Fancy or of the Ear. So that he would most infallibly lose his place among the Ancient Poets, if his pretensions were not supported by a juster Credit, obtained on other accounts: every Tribe being desirous of admitting a Great Man into their Profession, without making much enquiry whether or no he understands the particular Business of their Art.   

DIONYSIUS the Periegetick.  
DIONYSIUS seems much happier than the other Grecian Poets of those later Times, in having his History recorded by an Author of Credent. Pliny in his Natural History, speaking of the Persian Alexandria, (afterwards called Antioch and at last Charrax) could not but take that occasion of paying his Respects to a Person who had so much obliged him, and whom he professes to follow above all Men in the Geographical Part of his Work. He tells us then, " That Dionysius was a Native of this Alexandria; and that he had the Honour to be sent by Augustus Caesar, to survey the Eastern part of the World, and to make Reports and Observations about its State and Condition, for the use of the Emperor's Eldest Son, who was at that time preparing an Expedition into Armenia, Parthia and Arabia 
a Lib. 6. c. ●7. ."  
This is all the certain information we have concerning Dionysius' Person and Affairs: and this is infinitely preferable to the longest Legends of the Scholiasts: And yet it has not been sufficient to hinder the vanity of the Critical Disputes about his Age. For we find Barthius placing him under the Antonini; Salmasius under the Emperor Severus; and Scaliger abusing Old Eustathius as a Dreamer, because he had fancied him a Writer of the Augustan Times. They all pretend some colour for their Opinions, from that Verse of the Author where he calls Rome 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  and will have that to be understood of those later Emperors, who had commonly Associates in the Supreme Power. But, besides that this might be as well spoken in either of those junctures when Augustus shared the Sovereignty with Antony, or with Tiberius; it does not much advance the Credit of these Learned Men, either not to have met with this passage of Pliny, or to have opposed so Great an Authority, after they had seen it.  
Dionysius wrote a great number of Pieces, reckoned up by Suidas and by Eustathius. His Survey of the World is the only one we now enjoy: and it would be superfluous to say that this one of the most exact Systems of Ancient Geography, when it has been already observed, that Pliny himself proposed it for his Pattern.  
'Tis a common Fancy, that Dionysius is no more to be reckoned a Poet, than any of those other Authors, who compelling hard Precepts into the fetters of Numbers, have made an easier Conquest for the Memory. And we are apt always to assign him the same Company, in which we were first acquainted with him at School; the Grammarians and the Rhetoricians, who cramped us with their dry Lessons in Verse.  
But this is a very injurious mistake: For tho' he must be acknowledged to be more valuable for the usefulness of his Subject, than for the agreeableness of his Wit, or the Harmony of his Measures; yet he has taken care to show us, by many instances, ●hat He had a Genius capable of more sublime Undertaking, and that he constantly made the Muse's ●he Companions and the Guides of his Travels, ●ho ' he did not divert himself with their finer Converse on every occasion. Now not to insist on his Descriptions of the Island Leuca inhabited by departed Heroes 
a Vers. 544. ; of the Terrible and Monstrous Whales in Taprobana 
b Vers. 596. ; of the poor Scythians that ●welt by the Maeotick Lake 
c Vers. 663. ; the account of himself, when he comes to describe the Caspian Sea 
d Vers. 707. ; ●f the Swans and of the Bacchanals on the Banks ●f Cayster 
e Vers. 836. , and many more of the same strain; 〈◊〉 will be Argument enough of the Excellency of his Poetic Spirit, only set down the concluding stroke ●f his Work: 
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These Noblest Trains the Spacious Regions hold▪  
The Noblest these: but Millions yet untold  
Stray here, stray there about th' immeasured Vast;  
And Mortal Art in vain attempts the rest.  
Th' Eternal Natures can alone present  
Will without Rule, and Power without restraint  
They round the Chaos, round the World Unborn  
First deigned their Golden Compasses to turn.  
They through the Deep chalked out our ample Rod▪  
And broke the Lawless Empire of the Flood.  
Placed the Great Aids of Human Life and Cares  
Unmoved; and girt the wheeling Sphere wi●● Stars.  
They the wide Earth among their favourite Ra●●  
Parting, assigned the wrangling Tribes the●● Place.  
Some in Dry Tracts they gave a boundless Scen●…  
And some imprisoned in the circ'ling Main.  
From Them the different Soils their Temp●… take,  
One's chalky White, and one a miry Black;  
One turns a motley Turf: one red with Veins  
Of Native Paint, the Mimic Art maintains:  
Unlike the rest: as that Almighty Mind  
Scatters the various Blessings of Mankind.  
And now, farewell to Nature's rugged Face,  
Islands, and Continents and Sacred Seas.  
Farewell ye rolling Streams, ye mazie Rills,  
Ye Naked Fountains, and ye shaggy Hills.  
For now Great Ocean's Circuit have we run,  
And over Earth's wide wand'ring ways have gone.  
But may those Powers whom all the Frame obeys,  
Smile on their Poet, and reward his Lays.    

OPPIAN.  
OPPIAN was Born at Anazarbus a City of Cili-according to most of the Ancient accounts of his Life. For whereas Suidas and some others from him, fix Corycus for the Poet's Birth-place; their mistake is evident from a passage in the Third Book of his Halieuticks 
a Vers. 105. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  where he seems to distinguish his own Countrymen from their Neighbours the Corycians; tho' not so clearly, but that at first Glance it might give some colour to that conjecture.  
The time of his Birth, is as unsettl'd, as we generally sinned such matters. But it's certain that Suidas and Eusebius are vastly out, when they place it under Marcus Antoninus. For supposing him to have died at thirty Years old, as is constantly reported; how could he, according to this account, have presented his Cynegeticks to Antoninus Caracalla; tho' the very beginning shows them to have been thus addressed? For all know that there passed above Thirty Years between those Emperors. And yet the most Learned Editor of his Works Ritterhusius has made as great a slip on the other hand, by fixing his Birth in the Reign of Severus. For, that taking in only the Compass of Eighteen Years; it is very unlikely he should at such an Age finish and present his Halieuticks, as (we are certain he did) in the Life time of that Emperor. The middle way then, must be to suppose he might be born in the former part of Commodus' Reign; which cannot be charged with the like absurdities as the other Opinions.  
His Father Agesilaus is recorded to have been eminent for his Learning and Wisdom, and no less remarkable for his Riches and Authority in the City. So that Oppian had perhaps a greater advantage than any of his Predecessors, for the polishing himself with all the Arts and Accomplishments of Human Knowledge.  
He had scarce finished the entire course of his Studies, when an unhappy accident diverted them for the present, to make them afterwards the more illustrious. The Emperor Severus, taking a Progress through Cilicia, honoured Anazarbus, among other Cities with a Visit. Now at the Procession that was made to receive him, the Magistrates waiting on him in their Formalities; Old Agesilaus, as a greater Philosopher than a Courtier, was the only Man missing at the Solemnity. This piece of disrespect the Emperor resented so highly, as to banish the old Gentleman into the Island Malta; whither his Son likewise went, the voluntary Companion of his Troubles.  
But He, with a Fate not uncommon to the Men of his Profession, owed his Glory to his Misfortunes. For endeavouring, under this sad Confinement to amuse himself and his Father with the diversions of Poetry: He began, after some fortunate attempts in that way, to conceive hopes of allaying the Emperor's Displeasure by the same means as had lessened the Effects of it. To this purpose he engaged in the Halieuticks, dedicated to that Emperor's Son, the design of which Work he thus gives us himself at the entrance on it. 
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The Nations of the Sea, the Finny Train  
Of Slaves, that own fair Amphitrite's Reign,  
To Thee, Great Antoninus, I'll rehears,  
Power of the World Supreme! Nor shall my Verse  
Forget their Crystal Haunts, or where they feed,  
Or where they Lodge; or how they raise their Breed;  
Peopling the Sea with their moist Marriages,  
And Propagations of the Scaly Race.  
I'll sing their various Life: what Passions move  
Their chilly Hearts to Quarrel, what to Love.  
Tell how the Tackle, how the Plots are laid,  
And the cold Secrets of the Watery Trade.   
From the Greek accounts of his Life, commonly prefixed to his Works, 'tis impossible to determine, whether he took his Journey to Court presently after the finishing of his Halieuticks; or whether his Verses of Hunting, and perhaps other pieces were not offered at the same time: tho' they Generally seem more inclined to favour the last Conjecture. Yet if we consider what Sozomen the Ecclesiastical Historian has observed, that Severus was alive when the first Present was made to his Son Antoninus, and did himself order the Reward: and withal, that in the Poem of Fishing, Oppian compliments both Father and Son as then reigning with joint Power; and that in the Poem of Hunting the same Address is not used: we might conclude with some appearance, that the former Work only was offered to Antoninus during his Father's Life; and the other when he was left in sole possession of the Empire.  
But then, if we venture a second Reflection, and lay before us the constant tradition of the Author's dying soon after his Journey to Court, and never find any more Journeys mentioned than one; we must be forced in some measure to recede from this decision; and to believe that the Cynegeticks were never presented with the Poets own hands.  
However this matter is to be settled, the consequence of his Journey comes generally attested and agreed on. That the Emperor, being ravished with the Beauty and Art of his Compositions, in the first place ordered him a Piece of Gold for every Verse; and then promised him the Grant of any farther Favour he should demand. This last Happiness furnished him with an opportunity of recalling his Father from Banishment; and was piously employed to that good Purpose. But he did not live long to enjoy the Blessing he had restored. For a fatal Pestilence at Anazarbus swept him away among the Multitude, soon after his return, and quiet settltment there: he having reached no more than the Thirtieth Year of his Age. He was Interred with the highest Honours; and had a Noble Statue erected to his Memory, with this Inscription. 
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OPPIAN, the Muse's Pride, I lived; but Fate  
Hurrying me off, forbade the double Height  
Of Age and Fame. Yet would the Dooming Maid  
Her hasty Stroke in kindness have delayed,  
Till Years had fixed, what Nature's Force begun,  
Not Human Race had shown a Greater Son.   
We have at present only his Poems of the Cynegeticks and the Halieuticks, of Hunting and Fishing; the Third which he is said to have composed on the Art of Fowling, being yet vainly expected from the Italian Libraries, where it was long since thought to be buried.  
The dryness of his Subjects, tho' it offends some Modern French Critics, yet has not hindered him from being esteemed by more knowing Judges, as an Author little Inferior in Fancy, Art and Language, to the most celebrated Masters in the Grecian Strain. His vast numbers of allusions and comparisons, as they would have shown his Wit in any Design; so they give an equal proof of his Judgement too, while they are applied to Themes that stood so much in need of those Ornaments. The beginning and the ending strokes of each Poem have something of so great a Spirit and Turn, as show him to have had a Genius for much more Heroical Achievements in Verse. The first Lines of the Halieuticks having been already set down, it will not be improper to add the two other Addresses to the Emperor, at the Entrance of the other Poem, and at the Conclusion of that. Cyneget. L. 1. V 1. 
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To Thee, Blessed Antonine, I form my Lays,  
Stay of the World and of th' Aenean Race;  
To Thee, Sweet Offspring of th' Ausonian Jove,  
With whom th' Immortal Dame repaid his Love;  
(The Happiest Bride, the Happiest Mother shown,  
In the Best Lord, and in the Fairest Son;  
Assyria's Venus, an unchanging Moon.)  
Worthy to Grace the high Saturnian Stem,  
(Titan give aid, and Phoebus guide my Flame.)  
Whom the Great Father with his Sovereign Hand,  
Formed to control the Main, and rule the Land.  
For Thee fair Earth her annual Harvest yield's,  
Thetis for thee the scaly Nations feeds.  
For Thee wide Streams their floating Wealth convey,  
And pleased Aurora smiling bring's the Day.   
The Compliment at the end of the Halieuticks, is more artificial and more just, being taken exactly from the Subject in hand, and not stretched out into such flights as may perhaps seem too Youthful in the former Specimen. 
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Thus I what Works the watery Realms conceal  
To Thee, Jove's Sceptered Charge, in Verse reveal.  
But may thy Ships on easy Waves be born;  
And may the Winds still change for their return.  
Large Tributes may the fruitful Seas afford  
In living Subjects to their Roman Lord.  
While Neptune's Arms fair Nature's Springs maintain,  
And keep the World secure for Caesar's Reign.  His admirable Lessons of Morality on all occasions, especially that most wise and elegant Reflection at the beginning of the Second Book of the Halieuticks, on the weakness of Mankind in the smallest matters, without the influence and the assistance of Heaven, show him to have been one of the most rational and best Principled Heathens; and that his Works are able to teach us nobler secrets, than the Mysteries of Hunting and of Fishing. 'Twas this spirit of true Philosophy, that made him not so much as mention his own Misfortunes in Pieces which were composed to procure their redress; except just once to insist on the Miseries of Banishment, when the subject made it almost necessary.  
To conclude, as he came into the World, when Poesy was going off the Stage, so he made the best use of his Predecessors Labours in both Languages; whereas the Elder Grecian Poets had only their own Countrymen for their Guides and their Examples. And, without doubt when Julius Scaliger so often gives him the first place in the Tribe of Greece, it's chief for this reason, because he has taken care to be largely indebted to Virgil; and by not misemploying the Treasures, has shown that he deserved to borrow them.   
The End of the First Part.   

THE Lives and Characters Of the Ancient GRECIAN POETS.  
PART II.  
OF THE Lives and Characters Of the Ancient GRECIAN POETS.  
PART II. Containing those, whose Great Names and Credit have arrived at our Age, tho' their Writings are for the most part lost.  

LINUS.  
HE has the Honour to be reckoned the first Man in the Poetic Story; tho' 
a B●●tic. p. 585.  Pausanias assures us, that he either never made any Verses, or at least that none of his Pieces came into the Hands of Posterity. On the other side, 
b Lib. 3. p. 140.  Diodorus Siculus reports, that he wrote in the Pelasgian Tongue, the Acts of the first Bacchus, and other Fabulous Pieces. For this, and many the like reasons, we may fairly conclude, there were two of this Name, both famous for Music and for Verse, and so Suidas has determined. But their Stories are so confounded, that 'tis impossible to distinguish the Adventures of one from those of the other. Some Authors attributing to the Elder what others report of the Younger: and some again obliging the Younger with those Honours, which the Elder had enjoyed in other Relations. Perhaps, 'tis on this account that the Great Scaliger seems to acknowledge but one Linus; and accordingly reprehend; 
a In Euseb. ad Num. DXCVII.  Eusebius, for doubling him. Indeed the most famous of the two has drowned the Credit of his Namesake, as much as his Scholar Hercules did the Glory of the other Heroes of that Name. And therefore as all the Actions of those Worthies are attributed to the Grand Hercules; so whatever Linus' there may have been in the World, they make but one Character and one History.  
Linus then was either of Chalcis, 
b Suid.  or as most agree of 
c Pausan. Euseb. etc.  Thebes, Son to Apollo by 
d Suid.  Terpsichore, or by 
e Pausan.  Psamathe; or else to Amphimarus by 
f Suid. & Pausan.  Urania, or to Mercury by the same Lady 
g Suid. . He passes for the first of the Grecians who invented Rhimes and Melody: and for this reason Virgil has done him the Honour to make him Chief Officer to the Muses on the Aonian Mount, and deputed by them to Introduce and Compliment Gallus. 
Ut Linus haec illi, etc.  Eglog. 6.  
His three Famous Scholars were Hercules, Thamyris, and Orpheus. Of whom, the Ingenuity of the two last, made amends for the dulness of the first; who being corrected once by his Master, took an occasion to knock out his Brains, with the Harp which he was awkardly managing. Tho' others make Linus to have been killed at last by Apollo, for daring to contend with him in Music and in Verse 
h Pausan. .  
The Old Grecians were so troubled at the loss of their admired Master, as to introduce a solemn Custom of bewailing his Death. And every Year, before they offered their usual Sacrifices to the Muses on Mount Helicon, they first performed the Annual Obsequies of Linus; who for that purpose had a Statue, and a kind of an Altar erected to Him in that Place 
a Pausan Baeotic. p. 584. : His Tomb being in the Temple of Apollo Lycius at Argos. 
b Idem in Corinth. p. 118.  Homer alludes to the Custom of lamenting Linus in solemn Verses, when among other sine Stories engraved on Achilles' Shield, he fancies the Figure of a Boy singing to his Harp the Praise of Linus. 
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〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  Iliad. 18. 
Here a fair Youth his tuneful Ivory strung;  
While his soft Voice unhappy Linus sung.  For tho' 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is rendered Chorda in this Place by the common Interpreters, yet we have the Judgement of 
c Baeotic. p. 585.  Pausanias to understand it of Linus the Poet.  
But in one thing that most exact Historian seems to be mistaken; and that is, when he tells us, that the sorrow for Linus' Death was so universal as to pierce as far as Egypt: where they mourned his Fate in a solemn Song, to be repeated at set Times 
d Ibid. 554. . For it appears from Herodotus, that tho' the Egyptians had indeed among them a Lamentation which they called by the Name of Linus; yet it should seem they gave it that Name only in allusion to the like Custom in Greece: Not but that they had all the while a different reason for their Public Sorrow; and bewailed the Death of one of their own Young Princes; under the Name of the Grecian Poet, who had given occasion to the first Ceremony of that Nature among his own Countrymen 
a Vid. Herodot. Lib. 2. cap. 79. .  
It seems the Thebans laid claim to his Relics as well as the Argives: and they had a Story among them, that when King Philip, Son to Amyntas, had defeated the Grecians at Choeronea, he was admonished, in some extraordinary Vision, to carry away Linus' Bones: but that being afterwards countermanded by another Vision, he took care to return them safe to 
b Pausan. Boetic. p. 585.  Thebes. Yet in Pausanias' Age, they confessed, that Time had worn out all the Marks of his Sepulchre 
c Ibid. .   

ORPHEUS.  
WHoever has read the Charming Story of Orpheus in Virgil, and the most ingenious Application of it by my Lord Bacon; will be sure to despise a grave Relation of his Life, and a dull Description of a fancied Hero. But the Poets would take it very ill, if the Great Improver of their Art should Himself pass for a Fable. And tho' 
a Tull. de Nat. Deor. l. 1.  Aristotle is said to have affirmed that there was never any such Man in the World; yet there are Memorials enough in Authors of Credit, to prove him not only a real Person, but one of the most considerable of Antiquity.  
As to his Age, a Great Man who has had occasion lately to make use of his Philosophy, concludes that he flourished soon after the Times of Moses. 
a Archaeolog. Philosoph. pag. 121.  Indeed Eusebius expressly sets him down cotemporary with Gideon: while Suidas extravagantly carries him up Eleven Generations higher than the Trojan War. The Report runs for his being born at Lebethrae in Thrace; and Calliope the Muse is pitched on for his Mother: tho' he has reason to claim the Title of Father of all the Chorus, as he is styled by the Father of all our Learning.  
As the Superstition of the Old Heathens is commonly charged on the Powers of Poetry; Orpheus must be content to bear the infamy of the first Invention, if he aspires to the Glory of the second. It's agreed, that, after a long Course of the deepest Studies, and an extraordinary Skill in the Fabulous Theology; he Travelled into Egypt, and bringing thence most of their Magic Rites, and strange Ceremonies of Worship, he established them in 
b Diodor. Sic. l. 4. p. 162. Pausan Euseb. etc.  Greece. Some knowing Persons have ingeniously defended him under this Censure: while they tell us, that he found it impossible to reclaim and instruct a Brutish and Unthinking People, any other way, than by the grossest Notions of Religion; and by such odd Customs and Ways of Public Worship, as might make the greatest Impression on their Senses. That, in the mean time, he abhorred the Polytheism he introduced; and before his Death recanted all his Absurd Doctrines, in those Points 
c Vid. Archaeolog. Philosoph. p. 121. . But while the Truth of this Apology is so very uncertain, and lies under such heavy suspicions, there's no need to advance him to such a pitch of true Holiness, in opposition to the General Censure of his Idolatry and Impostures. Nor will the slight excuse of— Sic magnis componere parva solebam 
a Archaeolog. Philosoph. pag. 120.  ever stop the indignation of a Pious Man when he finds Orpheus compared with Moses.  
Those who are concerned to vindicate his Honour, may more modestly extenuate the Crime of his Superstition, by alleging how much he deserved of Mankind, for taming the rude Savages by the double force of his Music and of his Precepts: and for Civilising that Nation, which afterwards spread its Arts and Manners over the Circuit of its Barbarous Neighbours. Horace has given him his just Commendation, as well as his just History. 
Sylvestres homines sacer Interpresque 
b Ar. Poet. Vers. 391.  Deorum  
Coedibus & victu foedo deterruit Orpheus,  
Dictus ob hoc lenire Tigres rabidosque Leones.  
Orpheus' inspired by more than Human Power,  
Did not (as Poets feign) tame Savage Beasts;  
But Men as lawless, and as Wild as they;  
And first dissuaded them from Rage and Blood 
* My Lord Roscommon. .   
'Tis not improbable that his Music and his Verses had a large share in this Glorious Atcheivement: And 'twas to them too he owed the Esteem and Veneration he gained, by his Method of Expiating Horrid Wickednesses, of Curing Distempers, and of appeasing the Anger of Heaven. For Charms and Enchantments were always looked on, as the Divine Works of Poetry: and 'tis pleasant to observe that wherever those Arts are still pretended to, the Operation is still performed in Verse.  
We are little concerned with the Philosophy of Orpheus, or with his Civil Institutions, any farther than they were obliged to his Nobler Faculty of Harmony and Numbers. And should we attempt an enlargement on the Passages of his Life, History would desert us in the Enquiry; while instead of relating the Course of his particular Adventures, it only favours us with those General Testimonies of his Power and his Worth, which have been already produced.  
The Manner of his Death is more talked of, and generally laid to the Charge of the Thracian Dames. They say, that the women's Quarrel with him, was occasioned by his drawing their Husbands after him, as he passed through the Country. Having resolved on his Murder, they dared not attempt it, till the Bowl had gone plentifully round, and inspired them with Courage for the Fact 
a Pausan. Baotic. pag. 586. . Which gave the Hint to the Poets, to make the Villainy be committed at the Feast of Bacchus; and the Matrons concerned in it, to be transported with the fury of the Possessing God.  
The Macedonians, who in Pausanias' time, inhabited the Country at the foot of the Mountain Pieria, and possessed the City Dion, affirmed that Orpheus was torn in pieces by the Women, in that very Place: There standing at about Forty Furlongs distance from the City towards the Mount, a Pillar, with a Stone Urn on the top, said to contain the Bones of the Poet. The River Helicon just by this place was observed to fall under Ground, and to rise again at a considerable distance. The Tradition of the People thereabouts, was, that anciently the River run all along with an open Current; but that, when the cruel Dames would have washed off Orpheus' Blood in its Stream; it immediately suppressed its Waters, lest they should contribute to the expiation of so horrid a Crime. There are two other accounts of his Death. The First makes him to have perished by a Thunderbolt, for daring to disclose some Mysteries to Mankind, which Heaven intended to keep them unacquainted with. The other reports, that after the Death of his Wife, coming to Aornus in Thesprotia, where there was a Necromantic Oracle, and fancying his Eurydice to be always behind him at his Heels; he at last ventured to look back, and finding himself mistaken, was so ashamed of his Folly, as to prove his own Murderer 
a Ibid. pag. 587. .  
Whatever Works he might leave behind him, it was concluded as long ago as Aristotle's time, that there were none of his Genuine Remains in the World. Most of the Poems under his Name (many of which we meet with in Harry Stephens' large Edition of the Grecian Writers in Epic Verse) are adjudged to one Onomacritus, who flourished near the time of Pisistratus; between the 60th and the 70th Olympiad. Not but that some of these Pieces might have an Orpheus for their Author; since Suidas reckons up five of the same Name, all Poets: But then their Characters are perished tho' some of their Writings have been preserved; as his Character is preserved to atone for the loss of his Writings.   

MUSAEUS.  
Musaeus', like his two Famous Predecessors, has reached our Times with no certain Testimonials, but those of an admired Name, and a general Praise. He is said to have been Scholar 
a Suid.  at least, if not Son to 
b Diod. Sic. l. 4. p. 162.  Orpheus: and was like him too esteemed a Prophet, as well as a Poet. For Strabo puts him among the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 whom he reckons up in the Sixteenth Book of his Geography. And 
c In Phocic. p. 632.  Pausanias, making him one of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, says, that he himself had seen some of his Predictions. He had the Honour to be Priest to Ceres, and Precedent of Her Eleusinian Mysteries at Athens: on which account 
d l. 4. p. 162.  Diodorus makes Hercules wait upon him in his Travels, to be initiated in those holy Ceremonies.  
He proposed Orpheus as his Pattern in all things: And therefore would not put in for the Prize at the Pythian Games, to be bestowed on him who sung the best Hymn to Apollo; because Orpheus had declined that Honour before him 
e Pausan. Phocic. p. 620. .  
At Athens within the Old Bounds of the City, over against the Acropolis, stood a little Hill where Musaeus used to sing his Verses, and where he was afterwards Buried. It seems, it was at last, turned into a Fortification, and called 
f Attic. p. 46.  Musaeum.  

g Ibid. p. 39  Pausanias delivers it as his Opinion, that the Pieces commonly attributed to Musaeus in his Time, were the Works of Onomacritus, and that there were no certain remains of Musaeus, except his Hymn to Ceres.  
Indeed we have at present an admired piece of the Story of Hero and Leander under this Name: which the Great Scaliger 
a Poëtic. Lib. 5. c. 2.  has extravagantly preferred to the Works of Homer in Age and Worth; and pretended that it supplied the Iliad and the Odyssey with some of their finest strokes; tho' they lost very much in the Copying. But in opposition to that Tyrant in Criticism, Learned Men have generally concluded; that since we meet so often with the Name of Musaeus, yet never with one hint about this Poem in the Ancient Greek Authors and their Interpreters; and since a Discovery has been made of some credible Manuscripts where the Work is inscribed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; this could not have the Old Musaeus for its Author, but some Learned Grammarian of the same Name; who lived in all probability about the 5th Century, that is near the Time of Nonnus; from whose Dionysiacs he will appear to have borrowed very largely; upon a Collation of the two Poems 
b Vide Dan Paraeum in Musaeum. . However, since it has been universally acknowledged for so Correct, so Sweet, and so Moving a Piece; it will scarce be thought unworthy of the Ancient Musaeus; tho' Virgil has represented him as Foreman to the Elysian Tribe of Poets; and bearing up his shoulders above the wondering Multitude. 
Musaeum ante omnes, etc.  Aen. b. V 667.   

TYRTAEUS.  
HE was born at Miletus; but lived at Athens, maintaining himself by his Elegiac Muse, his Pipe, and his School. His story is one of the finest of Antiquity; and the Glorious success of his Verses has advanced his Name to the Rank of the Greatest Heroes as well as of the Noblest Poets.  
The Lacedæmonians having blocked up Messene a revolted City of Peloponnesus many Years; and having sworn to carry the Town or to die all before it: upon consulting the Pythian Oracle were advised to apply themselves to the Athenians, and to borrow of them a General, who should infallibly put a happy conclusion to the Siege. The Athenians to be sure were not much inclined to assist such powerful Neighbours. However to show some kind of Obedience to the Oracle, and some Sense of the Honour done to their City; they sent them Tyrtaeus, and did not much envy the Glory they were likely to get, under such a ridiculous Commander. For, besides his poor Employment of teaching Boys; he is reported to have been short, and very deformed; blind of one Eye, and lame into the Bargain: and passing for little better than a Fool in the Opinion of his Neighbours. The Lacedæmonians were, however, very glad to receive him, desiring no other Qualification but his being lent them by the Athenians. With him in their Train they advanced with the greatest Hopes toward Messene; and talked of nothing but of the Victory which was to attend this Messenger of the Fates. But being unfortunately defeated in three several Engagements; they grew so desperate as to enrol the very Slaves whom they mortally abhorred, in the List of Soldiers; and to promise them the Wives of those Citizens who died in the War. And when this last ignoble shift proved ineffectual, the Spartan Kings were resolved to lead back the Relics of their Army; and to consult at home about some better meaning of the Oracle's Advice. To hinder this fatal Design, Tyrtaeus began to exert all his Spirit, and all his Insinuation: And at last by his continual Lectures of Honour and Courage, delivered in moving Verse to the Army; he ravished them to such a Degree with the thoughts of dying for their Country; that being all bent on another Attack, and at the same time, as it were, sure of falling in the Encounter: every Soldier bound a little Plate of Brass about his Arm, with an Inscription giving an account of his Name and Family; for the use of those who should have the Care of their Interment. And now, rushing on with a furious Transport to meet the Enemy, who came out of the City on the Desiance sent them; after a most Bloody Field, the Victory fell to the Lacedæmonians: and the Revolters were obliged to be satisfied with their Ancient Subjection 
a See Pausan. in Messen. p. 244. Diodorus Sic. l. 15. p. 492. Justin. lib. 3. Suidas, etc. . And thus, 
When, by Impulse from Heaven, Tyrtaeus sung  
In drooping Soldiers a new Courage sprung.  
Reviving Sparta, now the Fight maintained;,  
And what Two Generals Lost, a Poet Gained 
* My Lord Roscommon. .   
Tyrtaeus returned to Athens with the surprising News of his success, and with the Honourable Title of Free Denizen of Sparta, which had been conferred on him among the Rewards of his Service 
b Plato de Repub. l. 1. .  
It's an usual confusion in Authors to attribute some things of another Messenian War, to this in which Tyrtaeus was engaged. Neither is it well decided whether he acted in the Twenty Years Siege, which first brought Messene into the Hands of the Spartans'; or upon the Revolt of that City under the Command of Aristomenes. Nay, 
a L. 15. p. 492.  Diodorus Siculus makes it a doubt whether Aristomenes himself did not flourish in that first War. However the Cause runs much fairer in favour of the second Messenian War, for the Age of Tyrtaeus and Aristomenes both: And 
b Messen. p. 243.  Pausanias tells us, this began in the 4th Year of the 23d Olympiad.  
Scaliger then must be a little out in his Account, when he places Tyrtaeus in the 36th Olympiad 
c Ad Euseb. Num. MCCCLXXXIII. ; and gives this reason for it, because the Messenian War broke out about that time. Whereas the War he hints at, cannot be either of those which lay any claim to Tyrtaeus; but must needs be the Third and Last Defection of that People from the Spartans'; when they joined with the Rebellious Helotes: of which 
d in Lycurg.  Plutarch and 
e Lib. 15. p. 492.  Diodorus both speak. Yet Suidas is not much righter when he sets Tyrtaeus in the 35th Olympiad; and it's likely he and Scaliger were imposed on by the same Cheat.  
The Works of Tyrtaeus were, the Polity of the Lacedæmonians; Moral Precepts in Elegiac Verse; and Five Books of War-Verses, 
f Suid.  some pieces of which still remain.   

ARCHILOCHUS.  
HE was born at 
a Strab. l. 10. p. 487.  Paros, a little Island in the Aegean Sea, of very mean Parents, according to his own Account. 
b Lib. 17. c 21.  Gellius, from Cornelius, Nepos, fixes the time of his flourishing in the Reign of Tullus Hostilius King of Rome, who was presented with that Honour in the Second Year of the 27th Olympiad. 
c Dion. Halicarn. l. 3.  Therefore Eusebius can't be much in the wrong, when he places Archilochus in the 29th Olympiad; tho' he has been reprehended by Scaliger on that account. Indeed, there are Authors who carry Archilochus somewhat higher, as to the time of 
d Cicero Tusc. Qu. l. 1.  Romulus, and near that of 
e Herodot. l. 1.  Gyges: but 'twill be hard to find a Chronologer on Scaliger's side, who brings him down almost 200 Years later, as far as the Reign of Darius' Son to Hystaspis 
f Ad Euseb. Numb. MCCCLIII. .  
He is commonly reckoned the Author of the Jambic Verse; chief on the Testimony of Horace. 
Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Jambo.  But, tho' many have been deceived by this place of Horace, it's certain Archilochus could be complimented with the Honour of this Invention on no other account, but because he was the Man who had used the Jambic Strain with the most bitterness and the most success. For that Poems of this nature were much ancienter than Archilochus, appears from no less Authority than that of 
g Poet. cap. 4.  Aristotle, who assures us that Homer himself wrote a Piece in that way, called Margites.  
Archilochus then owes his Title of Prince and Father of Jambics chiefly to the notable Execution his Invectives did upon one Lycambes, a Gentleman who had promised him his Daughter, and afterwards refused to give her, tho' the March had been made and agreed on. The Poet's Resentments were so sharp, as to make the Father and Daughter both hang themselves. Therefore Horace, when he owns himself to be proud of having brought the manner of Archilochus' Verses in use in Italy; at the same time declares in his own defence, that tho' he endeavours to express the Numbers and the Spirit of the Grecian Poet; yet he has neither attacked such unhappy Subjects; nor made use of the same kill Expressions: but on the contrary has sweetened and corrected the bitter Muse of Archilochus, by a mixture of the easy strains of Sappho and Alcaeus. 

— 
a Lib. 1. Epist. 19  Parios ego primus Jambos  
Ostendi Latio, numeros animosque secutus  
Archilochi, non res, & agentia verba Lycambes.   

Temperate Archilochi musam pede mascula Sappho,  
Temperate Alcaeus; sed rebus & ordine dispar.;  
Nec socerum quaerit quem versibus oblinet atris;  
Nec sponsae laqueum famoso carmine nectit.   
I first to Latium from the Parian shore  
Have brought Jambics; aiming to restore  
Archilochus' Genius and his Strain;  
Not poor Lycambes, nor the Murdering Vein.  
Here Manly Sappho with Alcaeus joins;  
Sweetens the gall, and calms the furious Lines.  
By me Reformed Archilochus his Muse  
No destined Father labours to abuse;  
Nor to her Garters drives the raving Maid;  
Torn from his Wishes, and his slighted Bed.   
But Archilochus may well be allowed to persecute other People in his Satyrs, when it appears that he was so rigidly impartial as not to spare himself. For Aelian tells us of one Critias who was very severe on him, for being such a Fool as to discover his own Disgrace. " If he had not taken care to inform us (says he) we had never known that his Mother was a Slave; nor that he himself was forced by Poverty to quit Paros and to seek his Fortune. Nor that his Wit was so nearly allied to Malice, as to spare neither Friend nor Foe. Nor that he was a vile lascivious Fellow: Nor, what's worst of all, that he basely threw away his Shield 
a Aelian. Var. Hist. l. 10. c. 13. ."  
The last part of this censure, shows him to have been like Horace in Courage as well as Poetry. And 
b Lib. 12. pag. 549.  Strabo citys the Verses in which he gives an account of that Misfortune, as Horace has pleasantly recorded his. Perhaps it was on account of this passage that, as Plutarch informs us in his Laconic Institutions, when he came to Sparta, that rough People immediately expelled him their City: Because they understood he had hinted in one of his Pieces, that 'twas better to throw away ones Arms, than to lose one's Life.  
Yet for all this, he valued himself more upon his Skill in War, than his Talon in Verse. 'Tis his own Brag, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
The King of War does my first Service claim.  
And the fair Muse inspires the second Flame.   
However, this imputation of Cowardice is no very great blot to his Character. But the other Charges of Lasciviousness, and virulency are the perpetual Stains of his Reputation: tho' he was reckoned an honest Man on other accounts 
a Suid. .  
In his Writings Quintilian long since observed, " the highest force of Expression; Sentences that were strong, and yet short and glittering, with an abundance of Blood and of Nerves: So as to give many People reason to judge, that if he seemed inferior to any Poet, 'twas on the account of his Subject, not of his Wit 
b Quintil. Instit. l. 10. c 1. ."  
Suidas tells a long Story how dissatisfied Apollo was with his Death; and how the Oracle refused to grant any Answer to the Man who had killed him, till he had appeased his Ghost. Of which vain Relation we need make no farther use, than to observe thence that he died in Battle.  
We find this ingenious Epitaph on him, in the Anthologia: The Author of which was certainly of the same mind with the Critics Quintilian speaks of. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Here lies Archilochus, whose Sacred Vein  
The Muses, partial to their Homer's Praise,  
Diverted in the keen Jambic Strain;  
Nor taught his Hand to reach the Epic Bays.    

STESICHORUS.  
HE was born at Himera a City of Sicily, in the the 37th Olympiad 
a Suid, , which was the time of Jeremiah the Prophet 
b Euseb. Cron. . His Name at first was Tisias, but was changed to Stesichorus in memory of his being the first who taught the Chorus to dance to the Lyre 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . There goes a famous Story of him, much more pleasant than true 
c Suid, ; that having in one of his Poems abused fair Helen; the Lady's two Brothers, now advanced to Demigods, took the Affront so heinously, as to punish the poor Poet, with the loss of his sight. But he being quickly sensible of the Cause of his Misfortune, made his Recantation in as fine Verses as had given the injury; and so recovered by his Panegyric the Blessing he had lost by his Satire. Horace alleges his Case, when he is writing a Palinode of the same nature to the injured Canidia. 
Infamis Helenae Castor effensus vice  
Fraterque magni Castoris, victi prece,,  
Ademta vati reddidere lumina.  
Castor, enraged at Helen's false Amour,  
And Castor's Brother, could remit their Fire;  
And give the Poet back his seeing Power;  
Won by the Charms of his Recanting Lyre.  The Grave Socrates in Plato's Phaedrus, does not only tell the same Story, but obliges us with the beginning of Stesichorus' Palinode. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
'Tis False; 'tis Slander, all the Muse has said:  
You never saw the Gallant Fleet;  
You never climbed the Boat of State:  
Nor knew the Scandal of a Trojan Bed.   
Perhaps the Poem in which he had not been so respectful as he ought to that Lady's Character and Honour, might be his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or the Destruction of Troy cited by Pausanias 
a Phocic. p. 659. & 661. .  
He appears to have been a Man of the First Rank for Wisdom and Authority among his Fellow Citizens; and to have had a great Hand in the Transactions between that State, and the Tyrant Phalaris. When the Himerians first chose that Prince for their Commander and Protector, and were now voting to allow him a Guard for his Person; Siesichorus, who had all along vigorously opposed the whole Design, made them sensible of their Folly, by representing their Case in a pleasant Fable: which, with one of Aesop's, Aristotle brings for an Example of those kind of Discourses in his 
b Lib. 2. cap. 21.  Rhetoric. And which now makes so good a Figure among us in the same Company 
* In Sir Roger L'Estrang's Aesop. .  
Upon a Dispute betwixt the Stag, and a Horse about a piece of Pasture, the Stag got the better on't, and beat the other out of the Field. The Horse on this affront advised with a Man what course to take; who told him, that, if he would submit to take a Man upon his back with a Lance in his Hand; he'd undertake to give him the satisfaction of a Revenge. The Horse came to his Terms; and for the gratifying of a present Passion, made himself a Slave all the days of his Life.  
This Horse's Condition, says Stesichorus, will be yours: You have already received a Bridle, by creating a General with Absolute Command; and now, if by allowing him a Guard, you let him get up upon your Backs too, you'll have your Revenge, but you'll lose your Liberties.  
Without doubt the Himerians quickly repent of their new Settlement; and we find Stesichorus deeply engaged in promoting the Design of a Revolt. Phalaris, getting Intelligence that the Poet was one of his most violent Opposers, and that he was now raising Men and Money to favour a Defection, sends him that Epistle which is the 92d in his Works: where he first tells him, he hears of the Plot he is driving; then laughs at the folly of it; and at last threatens him, that tho' the Poets commonly fancy themselves able to escape by the help of some Deity, yet Heaven itself shall not secure him from his Hands. Indeed, the Himerians refused to send him to Agrigentum on Phalaris his Order. But within a little time, He, and two more of their Agents, were intercepted by the Tyrant's Officers in their Passage to Corinth. By the Letter which Phalaris wrote to 
a See Phalar. Epist. 121.  Himera on this occasion, it appears, that he immediately Executed one of the Gentlemen; that he designed to send one of them home safe, but kept Stesichorus, till he could invent a Death, answerable to his Crime 
b Epist. 108. . But after a little acquaintance with the Poet's Person and Excellencies, we find the Tyrant's Fury turning into Love and Respect; and his Resolution so far changed, as to make him restore the admired Captive with Honour to his Friends. At the same time, he tells the 
c Epist. 93.  Himerians, that 'twas not for their sakes he released their Emissary, but for the sake of those Deities and Heroes whom he served and obliged. That, he was so far from punishing him with Death, as to wish it in his Power to preserve such a Man eternally secure from Dying. That for the future they should let Stesichorus enjoy his Lyre in quiet: And, if they must be managing new Designs, they should employ such Men, as when they fell into his Power, he might kill without any restraint from Conscience and Religion.  
By this Act of Grace, Phalaris did not only show his Love and Esteem for Parts and Learning, but his Judgement in them too. And therefore, when one Aristolechus an impudent Tragedian, had abused him in his Verses, and hoped to come off as fairly as Stesichorus: The Tyrant gave him to understand 
a Epist. 63. , that he did not pretend a kindness for Poets in general, but only for the best of that Profession; nor would be generous to all his Enemies; but to such only as deserved his Generosity by their own. In short, that the vain Libeler should quickly find the difference, between himself and Stesichorus: Not, as a Punishment for his Foolish Verses; but for his Presumption in hoping for the same Fate with so Great a Man.  
But, what's stranger than all this, Phalaris, however inclined to Jealousy and Suspicion, would never after be persuaded to think hardly of Stesichorus And, when a couple of Base Fellows had accused him as the Encourager of a new Sedition by his Verses; the Tyrant gave himself the trouble of three Letters 
b Epist. 22.73.147. , to express his Disbelief of their Story. In that directed to the Poet himself 
c Epist. 147. , he generously exhorts him to carry on the Design of his Muse; and, if he was was writing against Tyrants, not to balk any Expression, for fear of his Resentments.  
Phalaris expected no great Return for these kindnesses. As for his own Person, he positively forbade Stesichorus, to address any Verses to his Praise 
a Epist. 79. & 146. : And having only got him to compose something in memory of the Wife of one of his Friends 
b Epist. 78. ; he declared this to be a sufficient Obligation 
c Epist. 65. .  
Stesichorus died at Catana in Sicily, in the 55th 
d Euseb. Cron.  or 56th 
e Suid.  Olympiad, at above fourscore Years of Age. The People there were so sensible of the Honour his Relics did their City; that they resolved to keep the Treasure, whatever pretences the Himerians should make to the Contrary. They, on the other hand, finding all easier Methods ineffectual, determined to recover their Poet's Body at the Expense of a War. But it's probable they might be diverted from this Design by the Advice of their Master Phalaris, whom they consulted on the occasion, and desired his Assistance. He tells them in his Answer 
f Epist. 54. , that he was ready to undertake any entreprize for the sake of Stesichorus; even to proclaim War against the Fates themselves for his Deliverance. But then, he would have them consider, that wherever their Divine Poet was Buried, he would still be reckoned an Himerian: and still belong to their City, on account of his Birth and Life; tho' all other places in the World should claim him for his Virtue. That, seeing how dangerous it might prove to quarrel with so good Neighbours, they should venture to let the Catanians build him a Sepulchre; while they themselves erected a Temple to his Memory, and fixed up his Verses in all the Public Places of the City: Never counting their Friend dead, whilst any of these Monuments remained. In short, that, they should consider, it would be always a greater Honour to their City, to have bred a Person of such a Character, than to the Person himself, to have deserved it.  
But this was not the only Honour the Tyrant paid to the Memory of Stesichorus; for we have still the Consolatory Epistle 
a Epist. 103.  which he wrote to the Poet's Children; where, besides his Art of allaying their Grief, he has given so Noble a Testimony of the Father's Worth; as is enough to make us form much kinder Notions of Phalaris, than we draw from common History.  When he happened (says he) to fall under my Power and Threats, he never discovered the least fear of what he expected to suffer; but proved as Generous a Captive, as he had been an Enemy. His Wisdom broke the force of my Tyranny; and 'twas impossible for me to do him any Mischief, because whatever I did, he still turned into a Benesit. When by infinite Labours I had at last gained him to Me; or rather made myself his Captive; all that I ever desired was to make him some return for the Favour. Therefore I don't reckon, you ought to thank me, if these last twelve Years of his Life, I have paid him a constant Respect; but that I rather am still infinitely in his Debt; who besides his kindness of strengthening my Mind in other matters, was the only Man in the World, who had the Power of persuading me to despise Death. 
If these Epistles of Phalaris are not acknowledged for Genuine; (as they lie under heavy suspicions) tho' we lose a great part of the true History of the Poet's Life; yet we still advance the main point, the Esteem and the Character he bore with Antiquity. However we may venture to borrow one more Notice from the same Memoires; And that is, that his Daughters inherited some part of his Spirit and his Vein. The Tyrant tells one of his Friends 
a Epist. 67.  that having been at Himera on Business, he happened to hear Stesichorus' Daughters singing to the Harp, partly their Fathers, and partly their own Compositions; which tho' not equal to his, yet were preferable to all others in the World.  
We have no Catalogue of his Works on Record: Suidas only tells us in general that he composed 26 Books of Lyrics in the Dorian Dialect: Of which, [a few scraps, not amounting to threescore Lines, are set together in the Collection of Fulvius Ursinus.  
Majesty and Greatness make the Common Character of his Style. Hence Horace gives him the Graves Camaenae. Hence Alexander, in Dion Chrysostom, reckons him among the Poets whom a Prince ought to read: And Synesius puts him and Homer together as the Noble Celebrators of the Heroic Race. Quintilians' Judgement on this Works will justify all this. " The force (says he) of Stesichorus' Wit appears from the subjects he has treated of: while he sings the greatest Wars, and the greatest Commanders; and sustains with his Lyre, all the weight and all the Grandeur of an Epic Poem. For he makes his Heroes speak and act agreeably to their Characters. And, had he but the gift of Moderation, he would have appeared the fairest Rival of Homer. But he is too lose, and does not know how to contain his Genius: which tho' really a fault, yet is one of those faults which arise from abundance and excess 
b Lib. 10. c. 1. ."   

MIMNERMUS.  
HE was born at Colophon according to 
a Lib. 14. p. 643.  Strabo; tho' Smurna and 
b Suidas.  Astypale put in their claim for the same Honour. Suidas has placed him in the 37th Olympiad; which is somewhat earlier than the seven Wise Men: Whereas it should seem by Laertius' Life of Solon, that he was their Cotemporary. For there, we find the Poet, wishing in a Distich to live only fourscore years without Pain and without Cares: Presently corrected by Solon, and advised to desire no more than Sixty Years. Tho' (by the way) as we have the Text of Laertius the Answer is quite spoiled: while 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is put in the Verses of Mimnermus, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in those of the Philosopher.  
There are but few Fragments of him remaining, yet enough to show him an accomplished Master of Elegy; which was the Strain he followed: and in which tho' Quintilian has given Callimachus the Crown; yet we find Horace making Mimnermus his Superior in the same Field. 
Disaedo Alcaeus puncto illius. Ille meo quis?  
Quis nisi Callimachus! si plus adposcere visus,  
Fit Mimnermus; & optivo cognomine gaudet.;  
He owns me like Alcaeus: how must I  
Return the Praise? Let him in Elegy  
Reign a Callimachus: or, if that Fame  
Seems slight; applaud himself with Mimnerm's Name.  And Propertius in Love Matters and in the description of the softer Pleasures, ventures to prefer him to Homer: as the more easy, and the more moving of the two. 
Plus in amore valet Mimnermi versus Homero:  
Carmina mansuetus lenia quaerit amor 
a Lib. 1. Eleg. 9 .  
Greater in Love Mimnerm than Homer reigns:  
For Gentle Love demands as gentle Strains.   
His Temper seems to have been as truly Poetical as his Writings: entirely bend on Pleasures and on Love, and an Enemy to the lightest Cares of Common Business. Horace has quoted his Opinion, about the insignificancy of all Human Enjoyments, if not tempered with pleasant Humours, and easy Passions. 
Si Mimnermus uti censet, sine amore jocisque  
Nil est jucundum, vivus in amore jocisque 
b Lib. 1. Epist. 6.   
If, without Loves and Jests, as Mimnerm proves,  
All things are dull: Live in your Jests and Loves.   
The Greek Verses which Horace alludes to, are thus set down by Plutarch of Moral Virtue. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Venus once gone: what Life, what pleasure's dear?  
I'll gladly yield to Fate, when lost to Her.  Perhaps Lucretius might have this passage in his Eye, when he complimented the same Goddess, with something that looks like the same thought. 
Nec sine te quicquam dias in luminis oras  
Exoritur; neque fit laetum nec amabile quicquam. 
Lib. 1.   
— Nothing New can spring,  
Without thy Warmth: without thy Influence bear:  
Or Beautiful, or Lovesome can appear 
* Mr. Dryden. .   
Indeed the Grecian Poet was so far of the same Principles with the Latin; that 'twas a pleasant and a pardonable Blunder of the honest Old Commentator on Horace to call Mimnermus an Epicurean, tho' he lived above 300 Years before the Author of that Name and Sect.  
The most Judicious 
a Lib. 14. p. 643.  Strabo informs us, that Mimnermus was a Piper 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  as well as a Writer of Elegies. And Nanno, the Lady that passes for his Mistress, is recorded to have got her Livelihood by the same Profession. Hermesianax in Althenaeus 
b Lib. 13. p. 597.  makes him to have invented the Elegiac Strain to lament the Misfortunes of his Love. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Mimnermus, first, to charm his racking Care,  
Framed the soft Spirit of the Pentameter.    

 depiction of Sappho 
SAPPH  
Apud Cardinalem Farnesium in numismate argenteo   
SAPPH.  
THIS admired Lady who has so long enjoyed the Glorious Title of the Tenth Muse; has yet the common Misfortune of suffering by a confused Story. For the Critics pretend that there were two of this Name, both of the same Country; both near the same Times, and both inclined to the same Studies. Perhaps indeed this may have been an original mistake in 
a Lib. 13. p. 596.  Athenaeus; on whose Authority the remark is generally built. However since it's impossible so much as to distinguish the Persons; the Characters must lie blended as they have hitherto done; and the surviving Nymph must own the Faults, as well as the Virtues of her forgotten Namesake.  
Sapph, then was of 
b Strab. l. 13. p. 617.  Mittylone, the Capital of the Aeolian Cities in the Island Lesbos: And flourished about the 44th Olympiad 
c Euseb. Cron. , in the time of Pittacus, the famous Tyrant of that City, and, according to the common account, one of the Seven Renowned Sages of Greece.  
There are no less than Eight Fathers contending for her in Suidas; but Cleis has the Honour to be owned for her Mother, without any Dispute. She Married one Cercolas, a very Rich Gentleman, who came from 
d Suid.  Andros. But her Famous Gallant was Phaon; whom being at first a kind of a Ferry man, the Grecian Story-tellers make to have taken a great deal of care in carrying Venus, once over the Stream in his Boat; and to have received from her the Favour of growing the most Beautiful Man in the World 
e Aelian. Var. Hist. l. 12. c. 18. . His Unkindness in throwing off Sapph, and his leaving Lesbos for Sicily; as they were the sad Cause of her Death, so they were the occasion of some of her finest Pieces: and of that delicate Epistle which Ovid makes her write to her ungrateful Spark. The best thoughts of which he is supposed to have borrowed from her Verses: The Tenth Muse dictating what the Roman Poet wrote 
f Le Feure Abregé pag. 24. .  
Of her own Sex, her three intimate Friends and Companions, were Attis, Telesilla and 
a Suid.  Megara; on the account of whom her Character suffers so much, from the Charge of Dishonest and Unnatural Pleasure. It being a constant Tradition that her Amorous Humour was not satisfied with the Addresses of Men; but that she was willing to have her Mistresses too, as well as her Gallants. Indeed the incomparable French Lady, who has lately adorned her Relics, is very ingeniously singular in defending her from this unhappy Imputation. But however she may defy the rest of the World, yet, since 
b On Horace. Od. 13. l. 2.  Mr. Dacier has declared for the Common Opinion, she will certainly submit to the Superior Judgement of her Husband.  
Sapph was by no means a Beauty; but is commonly described as a Lady of very ordinary Stature, and of a Brown Complexion. Ovid knew very well this part of her Character; and he only had the Art to excuse it: unless perhaps he borrowed the Apology from her own Words. 
Si mibi difficilis formam natura negavit;  
Ingenio formae damna rependo meae.  
Sum brevis: at nomen quod terras impleat omnes,  
Est mihi: mensuram nominis ipsa fero.  
Candida si non sum; placúit Cepheia Perseo  
Andromede, patriae fusca calore suae.  
Et varits albae junguntur saepe columbae,  
Et niger à viridi Turtur amatur ave.  
Si nisi quae Facies poterit te digna videri  
Nulla futura ●ua est: nulla futura tua est.  
If Nature's Curse a Lovely Form denies,  
What Shape and Features want my Wit supplies.  
I own my short Dimension; that they suit  
Just with my Verse; and make, like that, two Foot.  
But then my Name to farthest People sounds;  
And equal to the World extends its Bounds.  
I'm Brown: yet Perseus could a Nymph admire,  
Scorched Browner by her sultry Climat's Fire.  
White Doves will Bill with those of shining Jet;  
And the Green Turtle woe a Speckled Mate.  
If Thee, but what were worthy of thy Love,  
No Face could move; no Face could ever move.   
Finding, after all, her Dear Phaon inexorable, as if he had designed to revenge the Injury she had done his Sex: She resolved on this desperate Remedy, to recover herself from his Charms. It seems 'twas a common Fancy among the Grecian Lovers; that in case their Passion met with extreme disappointment, there was no way to Cure the Unhappiness, but by leaping down into the Sea from the Leucas or the Leucades, a Promontory in the Island of that Name; hard by which stood the Temple of Apollo, who they thought would assist them in that Adventure. Sapph had Courage enough to venture on this bold attempt: and, as some deliver, was the Inventress of the Custom. But 
a Lib. 10. pag. 492.  Strabo tells us, that, they who understood Antiquity better, reported one Shafalus to have made the first desperate Leap from that famous Precipice.  
The Original of this strange Humour is not known: But, till a better comes to light, the fancied one of Ovid, will be a pleasant Account. He represents Sapph, as advised in a Vision to this Project; and thus acquainting her Lover with the Counsel she had received, and her Resolution upon it. 
Hic ego ●●m lassos posuissem slebilis artus  
Constun ante oculus Naias una meos:  
Constitit, & dixit," quae nunc non ignibus aequis  
" Ureris, Ambraciae terra petenda tibi.  
" Phoebus' ab excelso, quantum patet aspicit aequor:  
" Acteum populi Leucadiúmque vocant.  
" Hinc se Deucalion Pyrrhae succensus amore  
" Misit, & illaeso corpore pressit aquas.  
" Nec mora: versus Amor tetigit lontissima Pyrrhae  
" Pectora: Deucalion igne levatus erat.  
" Hanc legem locus ille tenet. Pete protinus altam  
" Leucada; nec saxo desiluisse time.  
Ut monuit, cum voce abiit. Ego frigida surgo:  
Nec gravidae lacrymas continuêre genae.  
Ibimus, O Nymphae, monstrataque saxa petemus:  
Sit procul insano victus amore timor.  
Quicquid erit, melius quam nunc erit, aura subito.  
Et mea non magnum corpora pondus habent:  
Tu quoque, mollis Amor, pennas suppone cadenti:  
Ne sim Leucadiae, mortua, crimen aquae.  
Here, as I bathed my weary Limbs in Tears,  
A Heavenly Nymph was sent to ease my Cares.  
" Maiden, she cried, that with unequal Love  
" Pursuest thy Spouse; far hence you must remove,  
" High on a Cliff from the Leucadian Shore  
" Phoebus' o'er Subject Waves maintains his Power.  
" Hence Mad Deucalion, urged by Pyrrha's Form,  
" Plunged in the Deep, and swom secure from harm.  
" When Love his Quarters changed; and burning Pain  
" Seized the Proud Dame, and him as cold Disdaiu.  
" This Gift high Phoebus on the Place conferred;  
" And injured Love here finds a just Reward.  
" Go strait, Go run to Leucade; nor fear  
" With the Bold Leap to cure your wild Despair.  
This said; my Airy Friend was past my sight:  
I start, and shake; and weeping own the Fright.  
Come Nymphs, attend my Vow; come all; we'll run,  
And climb those Rocks the Generous Fates have shown.  
Dauntless we'll climb. Tho' both are in extreme;  
Yet Woman's Fears must yield to Woman's Flame.  
No Winds can drive to a more Wretched State.  
Nor labour I with Limbs of hurtful weight.  
And thou, soft Love, support a Lover's Load;  
Thy Wings may rest me in the giddy Road;  
Prevent my Fate, and clear the Guiltless Flood.  But her Apollo, at last, failed her, as basely as her Phaon. And, when she took the fatal Leap, she quenched indeed her Passion; but 'twas with the loss of her Life.  
Her Lyriques, of which she wrote nine Books, besides her Compositions in other strains 
a Suid. , have gained the Prize for Sweetness and Force with, all the Grave Judges of Antiquity; and such as cannot be suspected of Gallantry and Compliment. The only two Pieces which remain entire have been both preserved by the Masters of Eloquence, while they allege them for the best Instances and Patterns of some extraordinary Graces. One is a Hymn to Venus, which we find in Dionysius Halicarnassus: The other an amorous Ode addressed to one of the Young Maids that she admired; and this we meet with in Longinus. The last of the two is the most esteemed; and is still acknowledged (as Longinus first produced it) for the inimitable example of the most artificial Union, or rather Combat, of all the Passions, and of all the moving Circumstances that can enliven a Piece. And the Lady has been so happy in her Fame, as to have this her finest Work copied by the only two Masters that were able to do her Justice; by Catullus in Latin; and by Boileau in French.  
The Mitylenians, to express their sense of her Worth, paid her Sovereign Honours, after she was Dead; and coined Money with her Head for the stamp: The same which we find expressed in Fulvius Ursinus, and which perhaps gave occasion to the Epigram we meet with in the Anthologia; on Sappho's Effigies, inscribed to the Engraver. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Thus Nature guides thy Hand; and shapes the Brass,  
To bear the tuneful Mitylenian's Face.  
Pegasean Fury sparkling in her Eyes  
Displays the Flame her endless Wit supplies.  
Her Skin not hung profuse, nor nicely wrought,  
commends her simple, unaffected thought.  
her Face, made up of Mirth and Moisture, shows,  
Mixture Divine! Half Venus, Half a Muse.    

ALCAEUS.  
IT's a pretty fancy of 
a Abregé des Vies des Poet. Grec. p. 25.  Tanaquil Faber, that the Story of Orpheus' Head (when thrown into the Hebrus) being conveyed by the Tritons and Nereids to the Island Lesbos; was designed only as an Allegory to express the eminence of this Island beyond its Neighbours for Arts and Wit.  
We have already owned our obligations to it for Sappho, and we are not less indebted on the account of Alcaeus, who was born in the same City, and lived at the same time, as that admired Lady 
b Strabo. l. 13. p. 617. .  
He seems to have been a Man of the first Rank in the Mitylenian State; and it's certain he headed the People when engaged by Arms to assert their Liberties against the Tyrant Pittacus. At the first opening of that Design he met with very ill success; being expelled the City by the Tyrant's Power. But afterwards he improved his Stratagems, and returning with a numerous Force, drove out the Tyrant, and restored the Ancient Privileges of his City. It's remarkable, that as all Authors agree he contended with Pittacus in Arms, and had such a great hand in his Expulsion; so 
c In Socrat.  Diogenes Laertius has recorded, that he had a Contention too with the Tyrant in Verse; where without doubt he gained a more absolute Victory. Yet he preferred his Knowledge in Military Affairs to his Arts of Harmony and Verse: And when he gives us an Inventory of the Goods in his House; instead of Musical Instruments, we find nothing but Shields and Helmets, and Belts and Ensigns; and a mere Arsenal for the Tenement of a Poet. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
a Athenaeus l. 14. p. 627. —  
My spacious Rooms sparkle with burnished Brass,  
And Polished Helmets consecrate the Place  
To the fierce God.—   
But he had much better build his Character on the the Excellency of his Strains, than on the Credit of his Feats in War, or of his Love to his Country. For there lie too heavy charges upon his Pretensions to both those Honours.  
As to the Fame of his Courage; 
a Lib. 5.  Herodotus giving an account of a Battle between the Mitylenians and the Athenians, in which the latter were Victorious, reports that Alcaeus being engaged in the Action, ran away, and left his Shield to the Enemy, who hung it u● in Triumph, in the Temple of Pallas. And tho' 
b 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Plutarch has censured Herodotus for this Relation; yet he does not deny the Truth of it; but only taxes the Historian with Envy and ill Nature, for not recording the Good Circumstances of the Action, as well as the Bad.  
Now will his Glory of being a Patriot, shine much brighter than his Courage, as long as so grave an Author as 
c Lib. 13. p. 617.  Strabo assures us, that tho' he made it his continual business to oppose the Tyrants, yet he was not himself altogether free from some Designs on the State.  
He courted Sappho very warmly, but never with any Encouragement. 
d Rhetor. l. 1. c. 9  Aristotle has recorded one of the Rebukes she gave him. Alcaeus accosting her one Day, and telling her he had something, to say; but that he was ashamed to bring it out: She smartly replied, that if he had any good thing to speak, and not rather some piece of Dishonesty in his Mind, he would never have been ashamed to let it come abroad.  
He is generally noted for a great Drinker; and would take occasion from the difference of each Season of the Year, to illustrate the necessity of plying his Wine: as the Deipnosophist observes in 
a Lib. 10. p. 430.  Athenaeus.  
His Writings were all in the Lyric strain, of which some little scraps have been picked up and put together in Print by Fulvius Ursinus.  
Horace (with whom he is usually compared) has complimented him as the first Inventor of the Barbiton, tho' some attribute the same honour to Terpander, and others to Anacreon. 
— age, dic Latinum  
Barbite carmen  
Lesbio primum modulate Civi,  
Qui ferox bello, tamen inter arma,  
Sive jactatam religârat udo  
Littore navim:  
Liberum & Musas, Veneremque & illi  
Semper haerentem puerum canebat;  
Et Lycum nigris oculis, nigroque  
Crine decorum 
b Lib. 1. Od. 32.   
Begin, and found the Latin Song;  
Begin, and sound, my deeper Lyre:  
Whom first the Lesbian Captain strung,  
Fierce as he was; and cooled his Fire.  
The calmer Music of thy Voice,  
Tempering though Trumpet, and the Martial Noise.  
Or whether, when the Tyrants hate  
Of her firm Patriot robbed the Town;  
He left his injured Friends to Fate:  
Flying o'er Coasts o'er Seas unknown.  
And hastened to secure  
His battered Vessel on the Marshy Shore.  
Bacchus he sung; and all th' Harmonious Nine,  
Commending their own Art, outvi'd.  
Nor less obliged the Cyprian Queen,  
And the fair Boy still holding by her side  
Nor the Dear Mortal Youth, before  
The God, in lovely Form; and next in Power.   
The force and Nobleness of his Style, made Horace represent him as sounding Fuller than Sappho on his 
a Lib. 2. Od. 13.  Golden Lyre; and in another place extol his 
b Lib. 4. Od. 9  Minaces Camaenae. Even Sappho herself in Ovid acknowledges his Notes to be higher than here's tho' not his Fame. 
Nec plus Alcaeus, consors patriaeque lyraeque,  
Laudis habet, quamvis grandius ille sonnet.  
Alcaeus, Partner of my Town, and Fire  
Hears not his Fame sound louder, like his Lyre.   

c Instit. l. 10. c. 1.  Quintilian approves the Judgement of Horace, in giving Alcaeus the Golden Lyre in relation to those Pieces which he wrote against the Tyrants. And adds, that he is very often of good use in Morality, that his Style is Close, Magnificent and Correct, and generally like Homer's. And that, tho' he sometimes, descends to Sports and Love, yet at the same time he always shows himself to have been born for greater Subjects.   

EPIMENIDES.  
HE was born at Gnossos in 
a D. Laert. in vit.  Crete: or according to others at 
b Strabo. l. 10.  Phaestus in the same Island; tho' Phaestus, or Phaestius be generally put for the name of his his 
c Laert. & Suid.  Father. He showed himself ashamed of his Scandalous Country, by his humour of always wearing long Hair; which might hinder him from being taken for a 
d D. Laert.  Cretan: But much more by that Character he left of his Countrymen in his Famous Verse; which has had the honour to be cited and confirmed by St. Paul 
* Tit. 1.12. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. .  
They say, that being sent, when a Boy by his Father to drive a Sheep into the Country; he got out of the Road to a Cave; where he lay down and slept 57 
e Idem & Plin. l. 7. c. 5. , 50 
f Varro 7. de L. L. & Plutarch. , or 40 
g Pausan. Attic. p. 26. , Years according to the different accounts. Waking at last, he fancied he had taken but a short Nap, and began to look about for his Sheep: till, giving over that search, he proceeded to his Father's Country-Estate, whither he was at first bound. But seeing the Face of things strangely altered, and the Lands possessed by a New Master; he run back in a fright to the City. Here endeavouring to get into his Father's House; his Younger Brother, now grown a Grave Old Gentleman, with much scruple admitted him; and told him how long he had slept 
h Diog. Laert. .  
Some Authors have discountenanced this Story of his long Dream; and make him to have wandered all that time, in order to the improving his Natural Philosophy by the experience of Simples. But perhaps, the sleep might be only a Politic Fiction of his, to gain Authority to his Art. For we are told, he used commonly to put a much greater Fallacy, on the People; pretending, as often as the Fit took him, to die and revive again at his Pleasure 
a D. Laert. .  
However, the report of this Accident spreading about Greece, he was presently reckoned a peculiar Favourite of the Gods, and one whom they admitted to their deepest Counsels. On which account the Athenians being tormented with the double Plague of Sickness and Sedition; and, upon consulting the Oracle, having been advised to make a solemn Purification of the City: they sent a Vessel into Crete, with an Invitation to Epimenides to come to Athens, and manage the Ceremony. He accepted their Offers and, accompanying the Messengers home, performed the Lustration of the Town, in this manner. He brought a parcel of Sheep, some Black and some White, all together to the Arius Pagus; and there let them all lose to take which way they pleased. Persons were ordered to follow them all, and wherever any one of them laid down, to Sacrifice it presently to the Divine Guardian of that particular place, Quisquis foret ille Deorum. By this Expedient the City's Health and Quiet were restored: and, in memory of the Action, a great number of Altars were erected about the Streets; dedicated, each to the Unknown God who had been appeased in such a Quarter. 
b Idem.  And, in the Judgement of many Learned Men, 'twas one of these 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or Altars without any Name Inscribed, which gave occasion to Saint Paul's Glorious Sermon to the Men of Athens.  
This Ceremony of the Solemn Expiation, was performed in the First Year of the 46th Olympiad according to Diogenes Laertius; or, as Eusebius has it, in the 47th.  
'Twas this Journey brought Epimenides acquainted with Solon, then engaged in his Great Design of regulating the Athenian Commonwealth. Solon took his Advice in the weightiest matters under debate; and was by him put into a method to compose his Laws. The Prophet particularly directed him to make the People decent in their Worship, and to retrench a great many things in their odd manner of Mourning, by ordering some settled kind of Sacrifices after the Funeral; and by taking off those severe and Barbarous Ceremonies, which the Women then used to practise on such occasions 
a Plutarch in Solon. .  
Before Epimenides left Athens, he happened on a lucky saying, which is delivered with Triumph by the Ancients as a mighty Prophecy. Standing one day to look on the Munychia, a new Mole, or fortified Harbour, he said to those that were about him, How blind is Man in future things! For did the Athenians foresee what a Mischief this would be to their City; they'd demolish it with their very Teeth, rather than let it stand 
b Ibid. & D. Laert. . There passed near Sixty four Olympiads before Antipater made good his Judgement by placing a Garrison of Macedonians in those invincible Works. And we must have owned the Wise Observer to have had a large Foresight; if it were not easy for a Man to guests, without the Imputation of Magic, that a Tyrant would some time or other make use of such a place, to lodge a Guard, for a Bridle to the City. However, since we find in Plato and Laertius several others of his Predictions relating to things at some distance, we may so far vindicate our Poet, as not to let him lie under the Scandal Aristotle has cast upon him, when he says, 
c Rhetor. l. 3. c. 17.  That Epimenides was esteemed a Prophet, not because he foretold things to come, but because he told things that were passed, and which no body knew besides.  
Having finished his Business at Athens, the Magistracy made him an Offer of the richest Gifts and the highest Honours in their disposal. 
a Plutarch in Solon.  But he, refusing the other Presents, requested only one Branch of the Sacred Laurel, preserved in the Citadel 
b Diog. Laert. ; and desired the Athenian People to keep a fair Correspondence with his Country men the Gnossians: And having obtained those Favours, returned home to Crete; where he died in a very little time after: Aged 157 Years, according to the Common Account, tho' the Cretans pretended he was 299 Years Old.  
He wrote 5000 Verses on the Genealogy of the Curetes and Corybantes and of the Gods themselves; with the Building of the Ship Argos, and Jason's Expedition to Colchos, comprised in 6500: and 4000 more about Minos and Rhadamanthus.  
The Lacaedemonians procured his Body, and preserved it among them upon advice of an Oracle 
c Ibid. .  

d In Solon.  Plutarch says he was counted the Seventh Wiseman, by those who would not admit Periander into the Number. And Diogenes Laertius ranks him with the same Illustrious Sages, when he writes his Life.   

SIMONIDES.  
HE was born at Coes 
a Suid & Strab. l. 10.  an Isle in the Aegean Sea, about the 55th or the 56th Olympiad 
b Suid. & Euseb. . Before he came to be much known in the World, he kept a School at Carthea in that Island, teaching the Art of Singing and Dancing in Chorus: His School being seated at a distance from the Sea, in the upper part of the City near the Temple of Apollo 
c Athenaus' l. 10. p. 456. .  

d 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Plutarch, when he tells us that the Poet Aeschylus left his Country and removed into Sicily, adds that Simonides, did the same before him; whence it should seem he went abroad on some like discontent. But whatever was the occasion of his Travels, the success of them was owing to his Wisdom and his Verse; which gained him the respect and Love of the three Greatest Men perhaps then in the World, Pausanias' General of Sparta, Themistocles the Athenian, and Hiero of Sicily, the wisest and the most moderate of the Ancient Tyrants. For the first of these Princes he composed the Inscription of the Golden Tripos 
e Pausan. Lacon. p. 174.  which he presented at Delphi; after the Victory at Plataea; in so arrogant an Epigram, that the Lacaedemonians scratched it out, and put some more modest words in its room 
f Com. Nep. in Vit. Pausan. . But this was owing to the Vanity of the General, not to that of the Poet. As to King Hiero, its certain he spent much of his Life in His 
g Pausan. Attic. p. 3.  Court, and perhaps he died there too. Then for Themistocles he could not but be acquainted with Him, when he celebrated his Victory at Salamis: and Plutarch tells us, that desiring once an unreasonable thing of that General, he received this handsome Reproof: You would not be a good Poet, Simonides, if you wrote contrary to the Rules of Verse: Nor should I be a good Magistrate, if I acted contrary to the Rules of Justice 
a Plut. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. .  
He composed Poems in almost all kinds of Strains but especially in the Elegiac: And got as much honour as he gave, by his Labours on the four celebrated Fights at Marathon, Thermopyle, Salamis and Plataea. By his Elegy on the first of these Battles he won the Prize from Aeschylus the Tragedian, as has been already observed in the Account of that Poet's Life. As to Salamis we have the Testimony of Suidas to show that it exercised Simonides' Muse. And the Elegies which he composed on the Spartans' and Athenians who died at Plataea, were in Pausanias' time to be seen, engraven on their Tombs 
b Pausan. Baeotic. p. 545. .  
Part of his Elegy on the brave Souls that fell in the Action at Thermopylae, is still preserved in 
c Lib. 11. p. 248.  Diodorus Siculus. Besides which, there is extant another piece of his on the same occasion that has a nearer relation to his Story. Megistias the Prophet who assisted in that Glorious Service, and who a little before the Fight upon inspection into the Sacrifice, foretold the Death of himself and all his Companions, was a particular Friend to Simonides; who honoured him with this Epitaph recorded by 
d Lib. 7. p. 459.  Herodotus. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Not Unrevenged, by Median Numbers slain.  
Megistias here does still his Post maintain.  
Scorning the Use of Prophecy he left  
The noblest proof that he deserved the Gift.  
Tempted in vain from Ruin to withdraw,  
And fly the Danger which his Art foresaw.   
When he is represented by Quintilian and others, as a most moving and passionate Writer, they allude particularly to his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or Lamentations mentioned by Suidas; which were so powerful in drawing Tears from the Readers, that Catullus uses as a Proverb 
Maestius lacrymis Simonideis.  And for the same reason Horace, after he has been bewailing the Miseries of the Roman Wars, and at last is willing to turn from that melancholy Subject, cautions his Muse, not to take up the Lamentations of the Caean Poet instead of her own sportive way. 
Sed, ne relictis Musa procax jocis  
Ceae retractes munera maeniae.   
His Wit was beyond the Censure of the Critics; but the common fault laid to the Charge of his Morals was extreme Covetousness. When he was taxed with this Vice in his Old Age, his Answer was, that he had rather leave Riches to his Enemies when he died; than be forced by Poverty while he lived to seek the assistance of his 
a Stob. Apothegm.  Friends.  

b Retor. l. 3. c. 2.  Aristotle gives a pleasant instance of his Covetousness. A Gentleman that had won the Olympic Prize in the Contention of Mules, desired him to celebrate his Victory, but offered no considerable Reward. Simonides utterly refused the Task, and scorned, as he said, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: to poetize upon Half-Asses. But when the Gentleman came at last to his Terms, and laid down the Money in his Hands, he could presently begin in a nobler strain, with 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Hail, Daughters of the Wind-hoofed Steeds!   
The most Learned Gyraldus had a little forgot himself, when he told his Young 
a Dialog de Poet. 9 pag. 995.  Gentlemen, that Aristotle in this place censured Simonides as a Despiser of low and common words; which is directly contrary to Quintilians Judgement of him, tho' a late Voluminous Critic 
* Mr. Baillet Jug. des Scavans. T. 4. p. 130.  has approved of Gyraldus his Conjecture. Whereas Aristotle's Design appears to have been only this, to give an Example of the Rule he had just before laid down, that the Epithets in pieces of Commendation are to be taken from the best part of the Subject, and in pieces of Dispraise from the worst. But Gyraldus his Memory will again be called in question, when he attributes the Olympic Victory here mentioned to Simonides himself, which would quite spoil Aristotle's Story.  
Bating this imputation of Covetousness, he is represented as a Man of extraordinary Piety. Tully, has given us one instance, and recorded the reward of Heaven that followed it. Happening (says he) to find a Dead Corpse exposed on the shore; and taking care to give it a decent Burial; he had a Vision of the Dead Man for whom he performed the charitable Office, admonishing him not to Sail the next day, according to his resolution, Simonides obeyed; and his Companions putting to Sea were all 
a Tull. de Divinat. l. 1.  drowned.  
But the noblest Testimony of his Wise Notions of Religion, is that famous Answer of his to Hiero the Tyrant who asked him What GOD was.  
At first Simonides desired a days time to consider; upon the expiration of that, he begged two days more; and when, upon a frequent redoubling of the time Hiero demanded the reason of the delay: Because (says Simonides) the more I think on that Subject the less able I am to explain my 
b Tull. de Net. Deor. l. 1.  thoughts.  
He is recorded by 
c De Orator. l. 2.  Cicero and 
d Institut. Lib. 11. c. 2.  Quintilian, as the first Inventor of Artificial Memory; and they both give a remarkable instance of his Excellency that way. He had Composed a Panegyric on one of the Victors in the Games, and was reading it in the Gentleman's House, before a numerous Auditory. But happening after the usual manner of Poetical Digressions, to spend a great part of the Poem in the Praises of Castor and Pollux; his Chapman refused to give him above one half of the Price, and told him he might look for the other half from the Deities that he had celebrated. Presently after News was brought in, that two Young Gentlemen on White Horses, were at the Gate, desiring to speak with the Poet. Simonides going out, found no Gentlemen, but soon found their Reward. For he was but just over the Threshold, when the House fell down, and dashed the whole Company, so miserably to pieces, that when their Friends came to seek them out, in order to their Interment, it was impossible to distinguish one Corpse from another, had not Simonides by remembering in what place every Person sat, exactly solved the difficulty.  
It's evidence enough what esteem the Ancients had for him, when we find Xenophon doing him the Honour to make him a Speaker with Hiero in his Dilogue of Tyranny; and Plato in his Protagoras making the Great Socrates expound his Verses; and in another place 
a De Repub. l. 1. , allowing him the Glorious Epithet of Divine, which Posterity adjudged to Pluto himself. It's plain they were all of Tully's 
b De Nat. Deor. l. 1.  Opinion, and respected his Learning and Wisdom in other matters, as much as his sweet Vein of Poesy.  
He is generally supposed to have been a very long Liver. Plutarch has preserved an Inscription, which testifies him to have won the Poetic Prize after Fourscore. Suidas allows him 89 Years in all, and Lucian gives him above 90.  
If we believe the Old Greek Epigrams made on his Person and Works, he died in Sicily; and very probably in the Court of King Hiero, as was hinted before.  
The little pieces of his Works that are to be met with scattered up and down in Authors, may be found set all together in Ursinus' Collection, printed in Octavo at Autwerp by Plantin, 1568. Among which, the Epigrams are thought to be spurious, or else the Work of another Simonides.   

Theognis and Phocylides.  
THese two Poets, who are generally put together on account of their way of Writing, may claim a nearer agreement with relation to their Time. For we find them both set down in Suidas, as born in the same (the 59th) Olympiad: tho' Theognis has the advantage of a few Years in Eusebius.  
Theognis commonly passes for a Sicilian, chief on the Testimony of Suidas, who makes him a Citizen of Megara or Megaris in that Island. Indeed the Poet calls himself a Megarian 
a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. v. 23. : But then he can't be understood of Megara in Sicily, because, when he reckons up his Travels, he pats Sicily among the Foreign Countries which he visited 
b Verse 781. . The Megara then which has a Title to Theognis, must be that in Achaia, seated near the Corinthian Isthmus. This too may be demonstrated from his own Verses. For he prays the Gods to turn away a threatening War from the City of 
c Verse 771.  Alcathous; now Ovid calls the same Megara, 
d De Trist. l. 1.  Alcathoe.  
Whatever Character Theognis bears on the account of rescuing Poesy from light and useless Subjects, to employ it in the service of Virtue and Goodness: Yet we find Athenaeus reckoning him among the most extravagant Voluptuaries; and citing some of his Verses, as a sufficient justification of the Censure. And indeed Suidas in the Account of his Works, takes notice of a Piece Entitled Exhortations or Admonitions; which he says, was stained with the mixture of impure Love, and other things, very different from the Principles of Honesty.  
Yet the Moral Work which we have of his at present, in an Elegy of above a Thousand Verses, must be acknowledged for an useful Summary of Precepts, and Reflections; and is clear from the Charge of Looseness and Debauchery. Tho' perhaps it might not be left in this good Condition by the. Author; but when it came abroad in the World, the lewd and gross Notions may have been taken out, to fit it for a true use; and the void spaces filled up with some graver Sentences, delivered by other Wife-men of those Times, in the same kind of Verse.  
We must not expect in these Compositions, the Genius and the Fire of Poetry. On the contrary, things are here told for the most part in the simplest manner; without the least advantage of Ornament or Disguise. And, as we know they were chief employed in the Instruction of Children; so one would imagine the Lessons to have been put into Verse more for the assistance of the Reader's Memory, than the Pleasure of his Wit.  
Phocylides, as he has scarce any Fragments remaining, so is little talked of in History; except that he is now and then honoured with the general Praise of being one of the best Masters of the Grecian Sentences. Suidas tells us, he was born at Miletus in jonia; that he wrote Heroic Verses and Elegies, and that his Admonitions or Moral Precepts were stolen from the Writings of the Sibyls.  
We have still a Moral Piece in long Verse among the Minor Poets, which goes under the Name of Phocylides. But it will appear on the first glance to have been the Work or some Primitive Christian; from the many passages borrowed from the Jewish Law, and from the noble Description of the Resurrection. Some indeed are unwilling to allow his Title to the Christian Faith, from his way of expressing himself in this last point. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
'Twere impious to conceive our Beauteous Frame.  
Should lie extinct. We hope from dark abodes  
To raise our Relics, and be turned to Gods.   
This turning us into Gods, has given offence to some nice ears, and some scrupulous Judgements, as a sentence unworthy to come from a Christian. But there might be a good reason for the Author's using the Language of the Pagan Theology, on this occasion; while his Design was, to make the Heathens of that time believe, that the Ancient Phocylides had some notion of the Resurrection. At least, the Friends of Sannazarius cannot make so good an Apology, for his Address to the Virgin Mary, 
— Spes fida hominum spes fida DEORUM  
Alma Parens.    

EMPEDOCLES.  
HE was born of one of the best Families in Agrigentum, now Grigenti in Sicily, and is commonly placed between the 70th and 80th Olympiad. The constant report of his Studying Philosophy under Telauges Pythagoras his Son, justifies the fixing him in this Period. Yet if we believe, what some affirm, that he was instructed by Pythagoras himself, he must needs be ancienter than the 70th Olympiad, in which that Great Master is said to have died. On the other hand, he is brought down somewhat lower than the 80th Olympiad by Eusebius, and 
a In Euseb. ad Num. M. D. C. I.  Scaliger has approved the Judgement.  
Tho' his Birth and Parts might have encouraged him in the Designs of Ambition; yet he was naturally very averse to State and Command, and preferred his frugal way of Life to the Honour of a Kingdom, when voluntarily offered to his Care. Yet afterwards being by mere Accident brought to engage himself in Public Matters; he fell to Politics in earnest; dissolved the Old Constitution of the City, and introduced a new Form of Government by Triennial Magistrates. This Achievement made him much talked of, and admired in the World. So that whenever he came to the Olympic Games, he engaged the Eyes and the Tongues of all the Spectators, and was himself the greatest part of the 
b D. Laert. in Emped.  Show.  
He was eminent for his extraordinary skill in Physic; and Art which 
c Var. Hist. l. 9 c. 22.  Aelian tells us took up a good part in the Studies of the Pythagoreans. And, Aristotle in a Work cited by Laertius, but now lost, does him the Honour to reckon him the Inventor of Oratory. But the Character and Fame of his Wisdom is chief owing to his Perfection in Natural Science. 'Twas this Talent' which obtained him an honourable Place among the Poets, by producing that admired Work of the Nature and Principles of things, so talked of and so applauded by all Antiquity. Lucretius himself, tho' his business was to confute the Author, yet gives us a Panegyric on his Poesy, when he condemns his Philosophy; and in a Rapture makes him almost a God, that is, almost as Great as his Master Epicurus. 
Quorum Acragantinus cum primis EMPEDOCLES est;  
Insula quem Triquetris terrarum gessit in oris:  
Quam fluitans circum magnis amfractibus aequor,  
jonium glaucis aspergit virus ab undis:  
Angustoque fretu rapidum mare dividit undis  
Italiae terrai oras à finibus ejus:  
Hìc est vasta Charybdis, & hic Aetnaea minantur  
Murmura: flammarum rursum se conligere iras,  
Faucibus eruptos iterum ut vis evomat igneis:  
Ad caelumque ferat flammäi fulgura rursum.  
Quae, cùm magna modis multis miranda videtur  
Gentibus humanis regio, visendaque fertur,  
Rebus opima bonis, multâ munita virûm vi:  
Nil tamen hoc habuisse Viro praeclarius in se,  
Nec sanctum magis, & mirum carumque videtur.  
Carmina quinetiam divini pectoris ejus,  
Vociferantur & exponunt praeclara reperta;  
Ut vix humanâ videatur stirpe creatus. 
Lib 1.   
Thus sung Empedocles—  
In fruitful Sicily, whose crooked sides  
Th' Ionian washe's with impetuous Tides,  
And a small Frith from Italy divides.  
Here Scylla raves, and fierce Charybdis roars,  
Beating with boisterous Waves the trembling Shores;  
Here pressed Enceladus with mighty loads,  
Vomit's Revenge in Flames against the Gods:  
Through Aetna's jaws he impudently threats  
And Thundering Heaven with equal Thunder beats:  
This Isle, who with such wondrous sights as these,  
Doth call forth Travellers, and the Curious please;  
Is rich with men and Fruit, has rarely shown  
A Thing more glorious than this Single One.  
His Verse, composed of Nature's Works declare  
His Wit was strong, and his Invention rare;  
His Judgement deep and sound, whence some began,  
And justly too, to think him more than Man.  Mr. Creech.  
He is generally censured as guilty of Pride and Vanity in the highest Degree. Out of one of his Poems that he recited to the People, we find this Sentence recorded by Laertius. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
Hail Friends! a God Immortal bids You Hail.  But 
a Advers. Mathem. p. 60.  Sextus Empericus has excused this flight from Arrogance, and tells us that the Philosopher meant no more by calling himself a God, than that he had taken care to preserve a strict purity of Mind, and so had rendered his Heart a fit Lodging for the Deity.  
Besides that Great Poem of Natural Philosophy, some think him to have been the Author of those Ancient Tragedies, which went under the Name of Empedocles. But others have believed that Empedocles to have been Nephew to the Illustrious 
b Suid. in Emped.  Philosopher. However Laertius assures us, that he composed a Poem on Xerxes' Passage into Greece, and a Hymn to Apollo, both which his Sister (or, as others) his Daughter burnt after his Death; the first because it was imperfect, and the other by chance.   depiction of Alcaeus 
ALCAEUS.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in numismate aereo  

a Lib. 6. pag. 274.  Strabo has taken the pains to refute this Relation gravely, by showing that 'tis impossible for any Person to approach near that burning Mouth of the Mountain, where he is said to have dissposed of himself. Nay farther that 'tis impossible to throw any thing in by reason of the violent Wind, still rushing upwards, and bearing all before it.  
Indeed, the bare passage about the slipper is enough to prove the whole business a Sham. For, as 
b Abregè des Vies des Poet. Grec. pag. 73.  Monsieur Faber wittily remarks, if a Man had taken up a resolution of breaking his Neck down from a place, 'tis hard to guests, what occasion he should have to make himself Barefoot first; unless that he might cut his Caper with a better Grace.  
Therefore D. Laertius does not fail after the Recital of this Fable, to give a probable account of his Death from more rational Historians.  
That riding to Messana in his Chariot, upon the occasion of some Public Solemnity, he happened to have a desperate fall, which broke his Hip, and threw him into a Fever, of which he died in the 77th Year of his Age: And to put the thing beyond Question, that his Sepulchre was still at Megara.   

EPICHARMUS.  
THE General Account makes him a Sicilian, this Horace and Aristotle follow. But Diogenes Laertius, who has given us his Life among the Philosophers, says he was born at Coos. But his being carried into Sicily, when he was but three Months Old, first to Megara, and afterwards to Syracuse, might well justify the calling him a Sicilian, tho' born in another Country. Now that he was removed from Home so early, Laertius brings his own Word to vouch: and 'tis probable therefore he made use of the same Authority in determining his Birth-place. However, if he was not born in the same Island with Empedocles, at least he lived in the same times, 
a Suid.  and followed the same Sect of Philosophers; having had the honour of being Disciple to Pythagoras 
b D. Laert. in Epicharm.  himself. He and Phormus are said to have invented Comedy in 
c Suid.  Syracuse: tho' many other Places pretended to the Glory of that 
d Vid. Aristot. Poet. c. 3.  Discovery.  
He presented Fifty five, or, according to others only Thirty five Plays. But his Works have been so long lost, that even their Character is scarce on Record. Only Horace, has preserved the Memory of one of his Excellencies by commending Plautus for copying it, and that is his judicious care of keeping his Subjects always in view, and follwing the Chase of the Intrigue so closely, as not to give the Reader or Spectator time to trouble themselves with doubts concerning the Discovery. 
Plautus ad exemplum siculi properare Epicharmi.  L. 2. Ep. 1. ver. 58.  
Besides his numerous Comedies he wrote abundance of Pieces in Philosophy and Medicine: which gave occasion to a very Learned Man 
a Aldroband. in Laert.  to make two Authors of this Name, One a Comedian, and the other a Philosopher. But we may venture still to keep him undivided, because Suidas, who speaks only of the Comedies, observes that some Persons made Coos the Birth-place of the Author: in the same manner as Laertius does, who mentions him chief as a Philosopher. Besides, when Laertius in the Life of Plato, has told us that 'twas reported as if Plato had Transcribed many things from the Writings of Epicharmus the Comedian; he immediately after sets down an Opinion maintained by Plato, and subjoins the Physical Verses of Epicharmus, whence it may be supposed to have been borrowed. And even the same Learned Man but now mentioned, when he comes to illustrate Laertius' Life of Epicharmus; remarks, that whereas it had been said under the Story of Plato, that the Philosopher was much indebted to this Author; it was to be meant of his borrowing from the Physiological Commentaries which Laertius sets among Epycharmus' Works.  
He died aged 90 Years, according to Laertius; or 97 as Lucian has him among his Long-livers. Laertius has preserved these Verses, which were the Inscription of one of his Statues, and are a testimony of the high esteem Antiquity had for his Worth. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
The Starry Train as far as Phoebus drowns,  
And ancient Ocean his unequal Sons;  
Beyond Mankind, we'll Epicharmus own,  
On whom just Syracuse bestowed the Crown.    

CHOERILUS.  
THere were two Poets of this Name, both much talked of, and both on very different Accounts.  
The elder Choerilus was born at Samos, or according to others at Jasis, or at Halicarnassus; and flourished in the time of the Persian War; about the 75th Olympiad. They say, that he was at first, a Servant to a Samian Gentleman; but running away and applying himself to Herodotus the Historian, he grew in Love with the Study of Eloquence. He is reported too to have been a very beautiful Person, and Herodotus is thought to have loved him a little too 
a Suid.  well.  
The Work that made him famous, was an Heroic Poem on the Victory which the Athenians gained over Xerxes, now entirely lost. The Athenians were so taken with his performance, that they ordered a piece of Gold to be paid him out of the Treasury for every Verse: And what was greater encouragement, commanded, that for the future Choerilus his Verses should be recited annually by the Rhapsodists, with the same Form and Ceremony as 
b Ibid.  Homer's.  
He must needs have lived to a great Age, since 'tis agreed that he spent the last part of his Days in the Court of Archelaus King of Macedon whose Reign is commonly, tho' uncertainly, fixed at a very great distance from the time of Xerxes. Archelaus had so high an esteem for his Parts, as to allow him a constant Pension of four Minae a day; which we are assured he always spent, in making much of his 
a Vid. Athenoeum. l. 8.  Carcase.  
The other Choerilus commonly passes for the Laureate of Alexander the Great, but at the same time is reckoned such a wretched Versifier, as to do the Emperor's Judgement as little Credit, as he formerly did his Exploits. Horace gives the best account of the Poet and of his Patron; while he is making Augustus as much Superior to Alexander in Wit and Genius, as he was owned to be in Empire. 
Gratus Alexandro regi magno, fuit ille  
Choerilus; incultis qui versibus & malè natis;  
Rettulit acceptos, regale numisma, Philippos.  
Sed veluti tractata notam labemque remittunt  
Atramenta; ferè Scriptores carmine faedo  
Splendida facta linant. Idem Rex illi poema  
Qui tam ridiculum tam carè prodigus emit;  
Edicto vetuit, ne quis se praeter Apellem,  
Pingeret; aut alius Lysippo duceret aera;  
Fortis Alexandri vultum simulantia. Quòd si  
Judicium subtile videndis artibus, illud  
Ad libros & ad haec Musarum dona vocares;  
Baeotûm in crasso jurares äere natum.  
With Joy the mighty Macedonian Herd  
His Choerilus: and that ungainly Bard,  
Tho' Art and Nature damned his dull Design,  
A Golden Philip got for every Line.  
Ink tampered with by Blockheads, daub's the Hand:  
And bravest Acts in nasty Verse are stained.  
The same vain Youth, who brought the scoundrel Lays,  
And paid so largely for his own Disgrace;  
Can yet decree, no Vulgar Hand should frame  
A Brazen King; nor charge the Canvas with his Fame,  
Yet ask the Royal Critic, when so acquaint  
In Judging Statues, and so nice in Paint,  
To give his thoughts of Verse, He'll be confessed  
Not Jove's dread Son, but some Baeotian Beast.   
The Old Grammarians and Interpreters were a little puzzled to make the Faith of Horace, and the Honour of Alexander agree together, in relation to this Story. But they bring off the Prince's Judgement with a couple of Fetches. First they tell us, that the Bargain he made with Choerilus, was to give him a piece of Gold for every good Verse, and a box on the Ear for every bad one. And then they relate it as one of his common Say, that he had rather have been the Thersites of Homer, than the Achilles of Choerilus.  
The Elder 
a In Euseb. ad MDXXXIV.  Scaliger makes the whole Business to be a mere Blunder of Horace's. He never heard of the Second Choerilus; and says, we have as much reason to fancy two Plautus' and two Laberius' because Horace has given them such a deep touch of his Satire; however admired by all the World. But that there was a Bad Choerilus as well as a Good one, may be made out by other Authorities. Aristotle in his 
b Lib. 8.  Topics, when he speaks of alleging proper Examples, bids us bring such as Homer has used, and not such as Choerilus. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. And 
a Lib. 8. c. 5.  Quintus Curtius to express the stupidity of one Agis an Argive Poet, says he was the worst Versifier after Choerilus. That one Choerilus had a very happy Talon in Poetry, Scaliger himself sufficiently proves by producing a most delicate Fragment of his: but this damages his Cause instead of strengthening it: for if he had been so Excellent a Poet, Aristotle would never have fixed that Censure on him: for as to Quintus Curtius, he may say perhaps, that He took his Choerilus from Horace. Besides if Scaliger's fragment should be owned for the Work of that Choerilus whom we call the worst, he will still be no better than 
— Choerilus ille,  
Quem vis terque bonum cum risu miror—   
Monsieur Dacier indeed tells us, that it appears from the Histories of Alexander's Life, that He had a Poet in his Court of this Name. But till he declares who those Historians are, and where to be found, we may venture as to this point to rely on Horace's Word: who certainly was too great a Critic to make such a notorious Mistake; and that too when he was writing to Augustus, and using all the Art and niceness he was Master of.   

CRATINUS and EUPOLIS.  
WE have so imperfect Memorials of these two Old Gentlemen, that they must needs have lain in the same Obscurity with Magnes, Phrynichus, Strattis, Theopompus, and the rest of the forgotten Tribe of Dramatists; had not 
a Lib. 10. c. 1.  Quintilian, 
b Serm. l. 1. Sat. 4.  Horace and 
c Pers. Sat. 1.  Persius, all mentioned these two Authors, (and these only) together with Aristophanes as the Great Masters of what we call The Ancient Comedy.  
Cratinus, the Elder of the two was Famous in the 8rst Olympiad 
d Euseb. , some Twenty or Thirty Years before Aristophanes; and somewhat more after AEschylus. But if we consider that he lived within Three of a Hundred Years, we may conclude, that he enjoyed the Acquaintance and Conversation of both those Poets, tho' so much a Senior to one, and Junior to the other. He was an Athenian 
e Suid.  born, and we don't find but that he spent all his long life in his Native City: where, if he did not invent Comedy, he was at least the first who brought it into some Form and Method, and made it fit for the Entertainment of a Civil Audience. It's true indeed, that the Art under this first Refinement, retained too many Marks of its rude Original. Persons and Vices were exposed in barefaced satire, and the Chief Magistrates of the Commonwealth ridiculed by Name upon the Stage. Thus we find in Plutarch's Life of Pericles, several passages out of Cratinus' Plays, where he reflected boldly on that Great General; who at the same time by his Eloquence and his Arms, reigned almost absolute Master of Athens.  
He appears to have been an excessive Drinker; and the excuse he gave for the Vice, was that 'twas absolutely necessary to the warming his Fancy, and the putting a Soul into his Verse. Hence Horace makes use of his Judgement to show what short-lived Creatures the Offspring of Water-Poets commonly prove. 
— Prisco si credas, etc.  L. 1. Ep. 19 And for the same reason, Arislophanes in his Irene, has given a pleasant account of Cratinus' Death, that it was caused by a fatal Swoon, at the sight of a noble Cask of Wine split in pieces, and the Liquor lavishly washing the Streets. 
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.   
The time of his Death is preserved in the same Jest of Aristophanes; and referred to the Year which the Lacedæmonians first beset Athens; which in all probability was at the beginning of the first Peleponesian War, in the 87th Olympiad.  
Suidas tells us he wrote Twenty one Plays, and got Five Victories: leaving only this short mark of his Excellencies, that he was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 splendid and bright in his Characters.  
Eupolis was an 
a Suid.  Athenian too, and followed the same Profession of diverting the Common People with the Vices and Miscarriages of the Prime Ministers of State. He was but Seventeen Years Old, when he first adventured to show himself on the 
b Ibid.  Theatre; where he seems to have been more severe and more impartial than Cratinus; in one respect. For Pericles and Cimon being the two opposite Patriots, and the two leading Men of the City in those times; Cratinus, tho' he exposed Pericles, yet showed a great respect for Cimon, and commended him in some Verses which are cited by Plutarch. Whereas Eupolis spared neither Party, but ridiculed both those Great Captains; as the same Plutarch has recorded in their Lives.  
Eupolis, according to Suidas, perished by Shipwreck in the War with the Lacedæmonians: on which occasion it was afterwards publicly prohibited, that a Poet should serve in War. It should seem, supposing this Relation to be true, that his Body was recovered and brought to Shore: for 
a Corinth. p. 97.  Pausanias describes his Tomb, as standing in the Road between Olympium and Sicyonia: unless the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 he mentions were only a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or, a Monument that preserved no other Relics but his Name and Reputation.  
Cicero 
b Ad Attic. l. 6. Epist. 1.  observes that 'twas the common notion of People, that Eupolis was thrown into the Sea by Alcibiades for traducing him in one of his Pieces: But adds withal, that Eratosthenes had confuted this vulgar Opinion, by giving a List of the Comedies which he wrote, after the time pitched on for that Misfortune.  
He presented Seventeen Plays (the Names of most of which as cited by ancient Authors, are collected by 
c De Poet. Grac. temper. p. 38.  Vossius) and won Seven 
d Suid.  Victories.   

ANTIMACHUS.  
THE particular time of Antimachus' coming into the World is not on Record: but we are at no loss in fixing his Age, since that of his Great Patron Lysander is so well understood; who won his Famous Victory against the Athenians in the 4th Year of the 93d Olympiad 
a Lib. 13. p. 390.  Diodorus Siculus relates from Apollonius, that the Poet Flourished under Artaxerxes Son to Darius, which agrees with the time of Lysander.  
He was born at Colophon in jonia 
* Suid.  not at Claros, as an ingenious Critic 
† Le●…  has mistaken. For when Ovid calls him the Clarian Poet, it's easy to conceive, that the Old Town of Claros standing so very near Colophon, and being so highly celebrated for the Temple of Apollo Clarius; might well give an Epithet to the Neighbouring Citizens, as it gave the chiefest Fame and Honour to their City.  
Stesimbrotus and Panyasis were his Instructors, and Grammar and Poesy the two Professions he 
b Suid.  followed: but 'tis likely he quitted the first Art, when he had raised a sufficient Credit in the other.  
He composed many Pieces in the Heroic way; that whick we find most talked of was the Lysandria, a Poem on that Great General's Achievements. But however it came to pass Lysander was so far from encouraging and rewarding his Labour, that he gave away the Poetic Prize to a much inferior performer. Upon which affront Antimachus burned his Work. It seems Plato who was then a young Man, and an intimate Friend of the Poets, comforted him in his Affliction with this Consideration, that 'twas only the Ignorance of the Judges, which caused so unjust a Sentence 
a Plutarch in Lysand. . They say too, that when Antimachus had called together a great Company, and was reading that Poem to them; every one at last slipping away except Plato; I'll read on still (cried Antimachus) Plato alone is a sufficient Audience. 
* Cicero in Bruto. .  
Hermesianax an Elegiac Poet, as he is cited in 
b Lib. 13. p. 598.  Athaeneus, gives us an account of Antimachus' Lady, of his Travels for her sake; and his sorrow for his Death, and his way of suppressing it. 
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Antimachus to win the Chrysean Dame  
Passed old Paclole, and viewed the wealthy stream  
But when interred in famed Dardania's soil  
He left the Maid, and reached his Native Isle;  
With Deathless Verse his Passion he allayed,  
And his strains cured the Sorrows they displayed.   

c De Consolut. ad Apollon.  Plutarch tells us, this Lyde was the Poet's Wife; and that having lost Her, he composed an Elegy inscribed to her Name: where reckoning up the strange Misfortunes and Sufferings of other People; he lessened his own Grief and Trouble by the recital of theirs.  
He attempted a vast Poem on the Theban War; and it's commonly said he had finished 24 Books of it, before he had brought his Heroes to sit down before the City. Old Acron makes him the Cyclic Poet, whom Horace has exposed: and the same too whom he has censured in that other place. 
Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagres.  Antimachus (as he says) having in Poem of the Return of Diomedes, begun the Hero's Adventures, with the Death of his Uncle Meleager.  

a Lib. 10. c. 1.  Quintilian, when he has been giving Hesiod the Prize in the middle Style, tells us, " That Antimachus or the contrary is commended for Force and Gravity, and for his way of Expression by no means vulgar. Yet, tho' the common Judgement of the Grammarians assigned him the Second place in the List of Heroic Poets; he is very deficient, in Passion, in Pleasantness, in Disposition, and in the whole Artifice of a Poem. So that, he gives a plain Argument, what great difference there is between being Second to Homer, and being next to him."  
The Emperor Hadrian. however celebrated as well for his Learning as his Valour, yet has left no very good sign of his taste in Poetry; when the Historian tells us, that he had a design of banishing Homer out of the World, and of establishing Antimachus in his room 
b Dio. Lib. 69. p. 790. . Spartian in the Life of the same Emperor reports that he wrote obscure Pieces in imitation of Antimachus. Whence the Great Casaubon has taken the pains to prove that Poet guilty of the most affected Obscurity in those little Fragments o● Expressions that remain. These indeed are found chief among the Glossographers, and own their continuance in the World to the difficulty of their Signification.   

 depiction of Menander 
MENANDER.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in marmore   
MENANDER.  
HE was born at Athens, in the same Year with the Famous Epicurus; which was the Third of the 109th 
a Vet. Inscript. ep. Gruder. & Meurs. de Archont. Athen.  Olympiad. The Old Grammarians give us strange relations of the early progress of his Studies; and tells us what an odd Stratagem he invented to allay the common Envy of the City, while he was only a Boy. But perhaps they might have no other foundation for all these Stories, than the constant report of his presenting his first Play, when very Young. Eusebius, has marked the Year of this beginning of his Fame; the Fourth of the 114th Olympiad; Two Years after the Death of Alexander the Great. But Meursius has proved a mistake of one Year upon him in this point: and so by fixing it a Year sooner, has shown us that the Poet was but Twenty Years Old when his first Work appeared on the Stage and won the Prize. His happiness in introducing the New Comedy, and refining an Art which had been so gross and so licentious in former times, quickly spread his Name over the World. 
a Lib. 7. c. 30.  Pliny informs us, that the Kings of Egypt and Macedon gave a noble Testimony of his Worth; sending Ambassadors to desire his Company at their Courts, and Fleets to bring him over: But that he himself left a nobler proof of his real Excellencies, by preferring the free enjoyment of his Studies, to the Favours and the Promises of Monarches. Yet the Envy or the Corruption of his Countrymen denied his Reputation the same Justice at home, which it found abroad. For he is said 
b A. Gell. lib. 17. c. 4.  to have won but Eight Victories, tho' he obliged them with above an Hundred Plays.  
Quintilian in his Judgement of Afranius the Roman Comedian, censures Menander's Morals as much as he commends his Writings. And therefore in this sense too Horace might have said 
Dicitur Afrani toga convenisse 
c Lib. 2. Epist. 1. Vers. 57  Menandro.  For our Grecian Poet was as true a Slave to Love as his Latin Imitator. But then his Love is recorded to have been the honester of the two. For while Afranius is charged with making lewd Courtship to his own Sex 
a Quintilian 16. l. 10. c. 1. ; Menander's Character at the worst makes him no more than 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
b Suidas.  a Mad Fellow after Women.  
We learn from 
c Lib. 13. pag. 585.  Athenaeus, that his Mistress' Name was Glycera. And we may conclude she was no extraordinary Beauty, from her odd mystical Apothegm to the Poet; by which she gave him to understand, that an Ugly Face ought no more to prejudice one against the Body which it belonged to; than the Scum on the top of a Mess of Milk should hinder one from using what was underneath. It seems her Honesty had not much advantage of her Features, for she admitted the Court of Philemon; who had before been Menander's Rival in his Art. Hence, when Philemon in one of his Pieces, took occasion to honour Her with the Epithet of Good; Menander, in his next Work opposed him with this Assertion, That no Miss could be Good 
d Athenaeus. l. 14. p. 554. .  
Phaedrus in one of his 
e Lib. 5. Fab. 2.  Fables, has given Menander the Gate, and the Dress of a most affected Fop, 
Unguento delibutus, vestitu adfluens,  
Veniebat gressu delicatulo & languido.  But it's likely that this description of his Person is the only true thing in the Story. For Phaedrus ●ounds his Tale upon this Notion, that Menander was not known to Demetrius Phaleraeus, except in his Works. Whereas we are assured from good Authority they were Scholars together under 
f D. Laert in theophra.  Theophrastus And farther that when Demetrius was Arraigned at Athens for Tyranny, Menander was like to have suffered Death, for no other Crime, but the repute of being his 
a Idem in Demetrio Phaler.  Friend.  
Menander died in the Third Year of the 122d Olympiad: as we are taught by the same Old Inscription, to which we were obliged for fixing the time of his 
b Vid Meurs. de Archont. Athen. Lib. 4. c. 18. p. 182.  Birth. His Tomb, in Pausanias' Age, was to be seen at Athens, in the way from the Piraeus to the City: close by the Honorary Monument of 
c Pausan. Attic. p. 3.  Euripides; whom (as 
d Lib. 10. c. 1.  Quintilian observes) he zealously imitated in a different Field. The following Verses pass for his Epitaph in the 
e Pag. 308. l. 3.  Anthologia. 
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Stranger! this Stone preserves Menander's Name,  
And that poor Dust which scap't his Funeral Flame.  
But would you find Menander, ask above:  
And seek the Laureate in the Court of Jove.  Of his Works, which amounted to above an hundred Comedies, we have had a double Loss: the Originals being not only vanished; but the greatest part of them when Copied by Terence, having unfortunately perished by Shipwreck, before they saw 
f Sueton. in vit. Terent.  Rome. Yet the four Plays which Terence borrowed from him before that sad Accident happened, are still preserved in the Roman Habit: and 'tis from the Character of Terence, that most Men now judge of Menander. Whatever the Latin Author has deserved by his exact painting of the Manners; by the usefulness of his Sentences, or by his pleasant and Gentlemanlike Railleries'; Menander challenges a large share with him in the Applause. And this Applause is all that we can give him upon our own Judgement. The rest of his Praises we must take at Second-hand, and only Clap for Company.  
We find the Old Masters of Rhetoric recommending his Works, as the true Patterns of every Beauty, and every Grace of Public Speaking. 
a Lib. 30, c. 1.  Quintilian declares that a careful Imitation of Menander only, will satisfy all the Rules he has laid down in his Institutions. 'Tis in Menander that he would have his Orator search for a Copiousness of Invention, for a happy elegance of Expression; and especially for an Universal Genius, able to accommodate itself naturally to all Persons, and Things, and Affections. And 'tis by these Accomplishments that he owns Menander to have robbed his Competitors in Comedy, of their Name and Credit; and to have cast a Cloud over their unequal Glory, by the Superior Brightness of his own.  
His wonderful Talon at expressing Nature, in every Condition and under every Accident of Life, has always made the Noblest Part of his Character. 'Twas this which gave occasion to the fine turn of Aristophanes the Grammarian; when he asked that gentile Question, 
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b Syrian. Comm. ad Hermogen. p. 38.   
O MENANDER, and Nature,,  
Which of you Copied your Pieces from the other's Work?  And Ovid has made choice of the same Excellency, to support the Immortality he has given him. 
Dum fallax servus, durus pater, improba laena,  
Vivet: dum meretrix blanda, Menander 
a 〈…〉  erit.  Yet his Wit is recorded to have been answerable to his Art; and his Sales such as could be supplied only from the same Waters whence Venus sprung 
b Plutarch in Compar. Aristoph. & Menand. .  
After all, Julius Caesar has left in short, the loftiest as well as the justest Praise of Menander's Works, when he calls Terence only a Half-Menander 
* Tu quoque, tu in summis, o Dimidiate Menander. Sueton. in seven. Terent. . For while the Virtues of the Latin Poet continually affect our Mind, and engage almost all our Admiration; 'tis impossible we should raise a higher Notion of Excellency, than to conceive the Great Original still shining with half its Lustre unreflected; and preserving an equal part of its Graces, above the Power of the best Copier in the World.   

 depiction of Philemon 
PHILEMON.  
Apud Fuluium Vrsinum in nomismate aereo   
PHILEMON.  
WE  fully understand Menander's Story without some acquaintance with Philemon, his double Rival in his Muse and in his Mistress. He was born at Syracuse in Sicily according to Suidas, or, as 
a Lib. 14. p. 671.  Strabo, in the City called Soli or Pompeiopolis in Cilicia.  
He wrote in the New Comedy, like Menander, and tho' much inferior to him, yet by the partiality of the Judges, often balked him of the Prize. Hence Menander meeting him once in the Street, asked him, Prithee tell me fairly Philemon, if you done't always blush, when the Victory is decreed you against me 
a Aul. Gell. l. 17. c. 4. ?  
His Plays were very numerous, of which we have a great many Moral Fragments in the common Editions of the Minor Poets. Plautus' borrowed his Comedy of the Merchant, from one of his, of the same Title in Greek 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ; as is acknowledged in the Prologue. 
Graecè haec vocatur Emperos Philemonis  
Eadem Latinè Mercator Marci Accii.   
We are told by a good Judge 
b Apuleius Florid. l. 3. , that tho' he must yield the precedency to Menander; yet there were to be found in him a great many handsome pieces of Wit: Intrigues pleasantly turned: Persons accommodated to the Nature of things, and Sentences to the Use of Life: Jests not below the Sock, and serious Reflections not so high as the Buskin.  
Lucian has got him down among his Long-Livers, and given him 97 Years, making him expire in a Fit of Laughter. Perhaps, as the most ingenious Tanaquil Faber has conjectured, when the Ancients tell us that he and another Comic Poet 
* Philistion.  died with Laughing, they might mean no more than this Allegorical Sense, that they were entire Masters of the Ridicule, and refined Buffonery. In the same manner, as when they report, that Democritus did nothing but Laugh, and Heraclitus on the other hand was always in tears: they might design no more, than to let us understand, that the first of these Philosophers, having a full and sensible knowledge of the Vanity of all Human things, esteemed them only as the Toys of Children, and the Sport of Wise Men. While Heraclitus took the matter more to heart, and thought the most ordinary accidents of Life deserved a serious pity: and that the Persons concerned in them, were to be brought to a right sense, by a most sober Application, and the Arts of a studied condolement.  
But we have two larger Accounts of his Death; from Suidas and Apuleius, which as they don't much prejudice one another, so they are not utterly irreconcilable to this first Notion: Since they insist only on Circumstances that attended his Death, without expressing the immediate occasion of it.  
Suidas his Story is to this purpose. When the Athenians were engaged in a War with Antigonus; Philemon living in the Piraeus, saw in his Dream Nine Virgins going out of the House: he fancied that he asked them what their Design was; and for what reason they were so unkind to leave him; and thought they made Answer, they were going to another place, it not being lawful that he should hear them any longer. The Poet waking from his Dream told the Boy that sat by him, the whole Business. And afterwards falling to Work on finishing the Comedy that he was then about, he wrapped himself up and went to sleep. The People who were in the House suspected nothing for some time, till at last wondering at his long Rest, they came into his Apartment, and found him Dead.  

a Florid. l. 3.  Apuleius thus gives the Relation. He was reciting in a Public place, one of his newest pieces; and having got as far as the third Act with universal Applause: a violent storm of Rain obliged the Company to break up; but not without a Promise from the Poet, to give them the rest of the Play the day after. Accordingly the next day, a vast Multitude met; great crowding there was for places, and great expectation of the Entertainment. At last when every one's patience had been pretty well tired; some of the fleetest in the Company were dispatched to inquire after Philemon, and to bring him along with them. The Messengers taking their way to his House; found him dead in his Bed: still lying in a studious posture: his Hands clasped fast about his Book, and his Face leaning over it.   

BION and MOSCHUS.  
THE Prodigious Credit of Theocritus in the Pastoral way, enabled him not only to engross the Fame of his Rivals, but their Works too. In the time of the later Grecians all the Ancient Idylliums' were heaped up together into one Collection, and Theocritus his Name prefixed to the whole Volumn. On which occasion there is a pretty Greek Epigram in the Anthologia; attributed to Artemidorus. 
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The scattered Muses rallying on the Plains,  
A single Flock, a single Fold contains.   
Learned Men have not yet adjudged a great many of the Spoils to their proper Owners. But they have admitted the Claims of Bion and Moschus, to a few little Pieces, sufficient to make us inquisitive about their Character and Story. And it happens very pleasantly, that we must be indebted to each of them, for our knowledge of the other. For Moschus, by composing his Delicate Elegy on Bion, has given us the best Memorials of Bion's Life; and the best Instance of his own Vein in Poetry.  
Bion then, was of Smyrna, the same Famous City, which shows the fairest Title to the Birth of Homer; in his Name of Melisigenes, taken from the River Meles, which slows not far from its Walls. 'Tis to this River that Moschus addressing himself, makes the sweet Comparison of these two Poets. 
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This, now, a Second Grief, thou Tuneful Stream,  
This, a New Grief, O Meles wounds thy Fame.  
Long since, alas! the Muse's sweetest Tongue  
Thy Homer fell; and thou his dying Song  
Born on thy hapless Current, didst convey:  
While thy loud Plaints ran sounding to the Sea.  
A second Son now claim's thy weeping Power,  
And racking Grief like Drought, consumes thy Store.  
Both chose pure Fountains to refresh their Muse;  
He Helicon, and He fair Arethuse.  
He sung Achilles, and th' Atridan flame,  
And the bright Mischief of the fatal Dame.  
But He, nor Arms, nor Tears, but Gentle Swains:  
Nor ever left his Flock to tend his Strains.  
To frame shrill Pipes was Bion's envied knack,  
And please Young Lovers, while their glowing smack  
Came echoing in his Tunes. Sometimes he bowed  
To ease fair Heifers of their Milky Load.  
About his Neck sweet Cupid clinging Played;  
And every Kiss He gave the Boy, the Mother's Love repaid.   
This is all the information we have, as to his Country, his Credit and his Profession. The Age of him and Moschus too may be settled from the same Authority. For Theocritus is introduced 
* Vers. 94. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc.  as bewailing Bion's Death among the Syracusians, while Moschus was mourning the same loss in Sicily. And therefore all the Three Pastoral Poets must have been Cotemporaries. And since Theocritus is so well known to have flourished under the famous Ptolemy Philadelphus, Bion and Moschus, must be placed in the same happy Times of Wit and Learning: tho' perhaps they had not the honour to be encouraged by the same Royal Patron. Now Eusebius informs us that Ptolemy Philadelphus began his Reign in the 4th Year of the 123d Olympiad, and concluded it in the Second Year of the 133d.  
Bion unhappily perished by Poison: and, it should seem, not accidentally, but by the appointment of some Great Man. For thus Moschus describes his Fate. 
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Begin, sad Nymphs, begin the Mournful Strains:  
Poison, Poor Bion, Poison fired thy Veins.  
But, ah! could Poison to thy Mouth be born,  
And touch those Lips, and not the Honey turn?  
Ah! could the Savage Wretch that mixed the Draught,  
Deaf to thy Song still keep the Barbarous Thought!  
Ah! could thy Charms not break the dire Command,  
And shake the Portion from his trembling Hand!   
It was not enough, what was before observed of Theocritus, that he had engrossed the Credit and the Writings of the other Pastoral Poets; for, it seems he had robed one of them of his very Name: Since we find some Critics maintaining that Moschus and Theocritus are the same Person. But they are sufficiently confuted by the remark already made, that in Moschus' Elegy on Bion, he brings in Theocritus bewailing the same Misfortune in another Country. Suidas will have Moschus to have been a Professor of Grammar at Syracuse. But it's certain that when he made that Elegy, his residence was among the Italians, (tho' perhaps in those parts which lay over against Sicily) where he seems to have been Scholar to Bion; and probably his Successor in Governing the Poetic School. Most of this may be fairly deduced from his own Words. 
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And I, Ausonia's Swain, to Verse commit  
Her Tears: no Stranger to the soft Delight  
Of Dorian Numbers, which thy Honoured School  
Boast, the dear Relics of their Master's Soul.  
Thy Wealth finds other Heirs: with me remain:  
Thy Noblest Gifts; with me thy Pipe and Vein.   
The few Remains of these two Poets are reckoned among the sweetest Pieces of the Ancient Delicacy. It is observable that Moschus, though Scholar to the other yet is always honoured with the Precedency by the Critics, who have Published or illustrated their Works. The occasion of this favour was probably their finding a little nearer resemblance to Theocritus in His Conduct and Style; than they could observe in Bion's. Not but that he and Bion both, seem in a great measure to have neglected that blunt Rusticity and Plainness, which was so admired an Art of their Great Rival. For they aim always at something more polite and gentile, tho' equally natural, in their Compositions. Indeed, the greatest part of their Subjects, not requiring the direct talk and Conversation of Shepherds, may be excused, if they are adorned with more Grace and Elegancy, as long as the Original Simplicity is not destroyed. As the Pastoral Muse is not to be set on a Throne like a Princess, so she looks altogether as ungainly if she always lies along, picking the Grass, or kissing the Green Turf. The main Beauty is what Boileau calls descendre sans bassesse, to stoop without creeping; and this perhaps may shine as fair in them, as in Theocritus. However, they will pretend to have some advantage of him, in the Happiness of Wit, and of Expression; in the moving softness of Passion; in the nice choice and order of Words, and the sweet Harmony of Verse which flows from those Graces. And, in short, if their Works are not admitted among some for so true Pastorals, they certainly pass among most Men for better Poems.    
FINIS.  

BOOKS Printed for Abel Swall, at the Unicorn in St. Paul's-Church-Yard.  

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The Essays or Councils, Civil and Moral, of Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, and Viscount of St. Alban; with a Character of Q. Elizabeth now added in this Edition. 8ᵒ.  
The History of the Revolutions in Sweden, occasioned by the Change of Religion, and Alteration of Government in that Kingdom. Translated from French, by J. Mitchel, M. D. 8ᵒ.  
Romae Antiquae Notitia: Or the Antiquities of Rome, containing a short History of the Commonwealth; and an Account of their Religion, Government, Customs, etc. By Basil Kennet, of C. C. C. Oxon. 8ᵒ.  
C. Jul. Caesaris Comment. cum Notis & Interpretat. Joan. Goduini in usum Delphini. 8ᵒ.  
P. Ovidii Metamorphoseon. Interpret. & Notis illustravit D. Crispinus in usum Delft. recensuit J. Friend, Oxon. 8ᵒ.  
T. Lucretii Cariola de Natura Rerum Libri. Interpretatione & Notis illustravit. Tho. Creech. 8ᵒ.  
P. Virgilii Opera, Notis & Interpret. illustravit. Carol. Ruaeus in usum Delphini. 8ᵒ.  
Eutropii Historiae Romanae Breviar. cum Notis & Emendationibus Annae, Tannaq. Fabri Filiae, in usum Delphini. 8ᵒ.  
The English Historical Library, Part I. A short View and Character of most of the Writers now extant, either in Print or Manuscript, which may be serviceable to the Undertakers of a General History of this Kingdom. By W. Nicolson, M. A. Arch Deacon of Carlisle. 8ᵒ.  
The English Historical Library. Part II. Giving a Catalogue of most of our Ecclesiastical Historians; and some Critical Reflections upon the Chief of them. With a Preface correcting the Errors, and supplying the Defects of the former Part. By W. Nicolson. 8ᵒ.  
Medulla Historiae Anglicanae: A Compendious History of the Monarches of England, from the time of Julius Caesar, to the Reign of his present Majesty, K. William 8ᵒ.  
The Comedies of Terence, made English; with his Life, and some Remarks at the end. 8ᵒ.  
Plautus' Comedies: Amphitryon, Rudens and Epidicus, Englished; with critical Remarks' 8ᵒ.  
The Courtier's Oracle: Or, the Art of Prudence, Written in Spanish by Baltazar Gracian; and now Englished. 8ᵒ.  
Jacobi Robaulti Tractatus Physicus, cum Ammadversionibus Ant. le Grand. cui accessit ejusdem Rohaulti de Arte Mechanica Tractatus Mathematicus, sigur. aeneis illustrate. 8ᵒ.  
Jo. Clerici Physica, sive de Rebus Corporeis Libri Quinque 8ᵒ.  
Liturgia Ecclesiae Anglicanae Latin. 12ᵒ.   
Now newly Published, 

Archaeologiae Grecae: Or, the Antiquities of Greece, containing an Account of the Civil Government of Athens. The Religion, Laws, Customs, etc. of the Ancient Grecians. By Potter, A. M. and Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxon. Illustrated with Sculptures. 8ᵒ.  
The Lives and Characters of the Ancient Greek Poets. By Basil Kennet of C.C.C. Oxon. Adorned with their Heads in Sculpture. 8ᵒ.    

ADVERTISEMENT.  
The Lives and Characters of the Ancient Latin Poets, will be Published with all convenient speed; and Printed in the same Volume.