OF THE PLAN and CONDUCT OF THE FAERIE QUEENE. SECT. I.

WHEN the works of Homer and of Ariſto⯑tle began to be reſtored and ſtudied in Italy, when the pure and uncorrupted ſources of antient poeſy and antient criticiſm were opened, and literature in general ſeemed emerging from the depths of Gothic ignorance and barbarity, it might have been expected, that, inſtead of the ro⯑mantic ſpecies of poetical compoſition introduced by the provencal bards, a new and more legitimate taſte of writing would have ſucceeded; that unnatural events, the machinations of imaginary beings, and adventures entertaining only as they were improba⯑ble, would have given place to juſtneſs of thought and deſign, and to that decorum which nature dictat⯑ed, and which the example and the precept of anti⯑quity had authoriſed. But it was a long time before ſuch a change as this was effected; and we find A⯑rioſto, many years after the revival of letters, reject⯑ing [2] truth for magic, and chuſing rather to follow the irregular and ridiculous excurſions of Boiardo, than the propriety and uniformity of the great Graecian and Roman Epic models. Nor was the ſtate of cri⯑ticiſm leſs generally and effectually influenced than that of poeſy by the reſtoration of antient learning: Beni, one of the moſt celebrated critics of the ſix⯑teenth century, was ſtill ſo infatuated with a love of the old provencal vein, that he ventured to write a regular diſſertation, in which he compares Arioſto with Homer. Triſſino, indeed, who was nearly con⯑temporary with Arioſto, had taſte and boldneſs enough to publiſh a poem written in profeſt imitation of the Iliad; but this attempt met with little regard or ap⯑plauſe, for that very reaſon on which its real merit was founded; it was rejected as an inſipid and unen⯑tertaining performance, having few devils or enchant⯑ments to recommend it. To Triſſino ſucceeded Taſſo, who, in his Gieruſaleme Liberata, took the antients for his guides; but was, at the ſame time, too ſenſible of the prevailing taſte for ideal beings, and romantic deſcription, to omit them entirely; though he was well acquainted with, and fully con⯑vinced of the excellencies of Homer and Virgil, yet he ſtill kept the old provencal poets in his eye; like his own Rinaldo, who after he had gaz'd on the dia⯑mond ſhield of truth, and while he was departing from Armida, and her enchanted gardens, could not help looking back upon them with ſome remains of fondneſs. Nor did Taſſo's poem, though compos'd, in ſome meaſure, on a claſſical and uniform plan, gain its author (in his own country at leaſt) any high⯑er [3] ſhare of praiſe and reputation upon that account: Arioſto, with all his extravagancies, was ſtill pre⯑ferred; and the ſuperiority of the Orlando Furioſo to the Gieruſaleme Liberata was at length eſtabliſh'd by a formal decree of the Academicians della Cruſca, who held a ſolemn court of enquiry concerning the merit of both poems.

In the midſt of this bad taſte, Spenſer began to write his FAERIE QUEENE; which, after the prac⯑tice of Arioſto, was to conſiſt of allegories, enchant⯑ments, and romantic adventures, carried on by fairy knights, giants, magicians, and fictitious beings. It may indeed be urged, as an inſtance of Spenſer's weak and undiſcerning judgment, that he choſe to follow Arioſto rather than Taſſo, the plan and conduct of whoſe poem was much more regular and legitimate than that of his rival. To this objection it may be anſwered, in defence of our author, that he was rea⯑ſonably induced to follow that poem which was moſt celebrated and popular: for tho' the French critics in general gave the preference to Taſſo, yet in Italy the partiſans, on the ſide of Arioſto, were by far the moſt numerous, and conſequently in England; for Italy, in the age of queen Elizabeth, gave laws to our iſland in all matters of taſte, as France has done ever ſince. It muſt, however, be confeſſed at the ſame time, that Spenſer was in ſome meaſure in⯑fluenced, from the natural biaſs of his mind, to pre⯑fer that plan, which would admit of the moſt exten⯑ſive range for his unbounded imagination. What this plan is, and how it is conducted, we ſhall now proceed to examine.

[4] ^*The poet ſuppoſes, that the FAERIE QUEENE held a magnificent feaſt, (according to annual cuſtom) which laſted twelve days; on each of which reſpec⯑tively, twelve ſeveral complaints are preferred before her: accordingly, in order to redreſs the injuries which were the occaſion of theſe ſeveral complaints, ſhe ſends out twelve different knights, each of which, in the particular adventure allotted to him, proves an example of ſome particular virtue, as of Holineſs, Temperance, Juſtice, Chaſtity, &c. and has one com⯑plete book aſſigned to him, of which he is the hero. But, beſides theſe twelve knights, ſeverally exempli⯑fying twelve moral virtues, there is one principal knight, or general hero, viz. PRINCE ARTHUR; who repreſents Magnificence; a virtue which is ſuppoſed to be the perfection of all the reſt; who aſſiſts in eve⯑ry book, the end of whoſe actions is to find out GLO⯑RIANA, or Glory, and in whoſe perſon the poet in⯑tends to pourtray, ‘"THE IMAGE OF A BRAVE KNIGHT PERFECTED IN THE TWELVE PRIVATE MORAL VIRTUES."’

It is evident, that our author, in eſtabliſhing one hero, who ſeeking and attaining one grand end, viz. GLORIANA, or Glory, ſhould exemplify one grand character, viz. that of a brave knight perfected in the twelve private moral virtues, had the practice of Virgil and Homer in his eye. But tho' he was ſenſible of the importance and expediency of a unity of the hero and of his deſign, yet he does not, at the ſame time, ſeem convinced of the neceſſity of that unity of action, by which this deſign ſhould be properly accompliſhed; nor ſufficiently acquainted with the method of pro⯑ceeding [5] made uſe of by the two great originals above⯑mentioned, in conducting their reſpective heroes to the one grand end propoſed. It may be aſked, with great propriety, how does ARTHUR execute this one grand ultimate deſign? It may be anſwered, with no leſs plauſibility, that by aſſiſting each patron of the twelve virtues reſpectively, in his allotted defence or patronage of each, ARTHUR approaches ſtill nearer and nearer to Glory, 'till at laſt he obtains it, and ſo conſummates the intended grand deſign. But ſurely to aſſiſt only is not ſufficient to gain this end, or com⯑plete the propoſed character. The poet ought to have made his ARTHUR the principal agent in the re⯑dreſs of each particular wrong, which aroſe from the various violation of Holineſs, Temperance, Juſtice, Chaſtity, &c. If the hero had thus, in his own per⯑ſon, exerted himſelf in the ſervice of all the twelve virtues, he might have been deſervedly ſtiled the per⯑fect pattern of them all, and conſequently would then have completed the propoſed grand end, viz. the attainment of Glory. At preſent he is only a ſubordinate, or rather acceſſory character; the diffi⯑culties and obſtacles which he ſhould have ſurmount⯑ed in order to gain the propoſed end, are done to his hand, and removed by others; it is not he who con⯑quers the dragon in the firſt book, (to inſtance in no other) or who quells the magician Buſirane in the third; theſe are atchievements executed by St. George and by Britomart. In ſhort, the twelve ſeveral knights, or patrons, do too much for ARTHUR to do any thing, or at leaſt what may reaſonably be expected from the plan of the poet; while we are attending to [6] the deſign of the hero of the book, we forget that of the hero of the poem. Mr. Dryden remarks, ‘"We muſt do Spenſer that juſtice to obſerve, that mag⯑nanimity [magnificence] which is the true cha⯑racter of PRINCE ARTHUR, ſhines throughout the whole poem; and ſuccours the reſt when they are in diſtreſs."^†’ If the magnanimity of PRINCE AR⯑THUR did in reality ſhine throughout the whole poem with a ſteady and ſuperior luſtre, our author would ſtand excuſed; but at preſent it breaks forth but ſeldom, in dim and interrupted flaſhes; it is not like the pervading ſpirit of Virgil, which

And to ‘"ſuccour the reſt when they are in diſtreſs,"’ is a circumſtance of too little importance in the hero of a poem: "to ſuccour" is, in fact, a ſervice to be perform'd in the cauſe of the hero, by ſome dependent and inferior chief, the buſineſs of a Gyas or a Cloanthus, a Mneſtheus, or a Sereſtus.

Upon the whole, and in general, it muſt be ob⯑ſerved, that Spenſer's adventures, which are the ſub⯑ject of each ſingle book, have no mutual dependance upon each other, and conſequenly do not contribute to conſtitute one legitimate poem; and Mr. Hughes, not conſidering this, has advanced a remark in com⯑mendation of Spenſer, which may moſt properly be turned to his cenſure. ‘"If we conſider the firſt book as an entire work of itſelf, we ſhall find it to be no irregular contrivance: there is one principal action, which is completed in the twelfth Canto, and the [7] ſeveral incidents are proper, as they tend either to obſtruct or promote it."^*’ As the heroic poem is required to be one WHOLE, compounded of many various parts depending upon, and relative to each other; ſo it is expedient, that not one of thoſe parts ſhould be ſo regularly contriv'd, and ſo completely finiſhed, as to become a WHOLE of itſelf. For the mind being thus once ſatisfied in arriving at the completion of an orderly ſeries of events, acquieſces in that ſatis⯑faction, and its attention and curioſity are diverted from purſuing, with due vigour, the final and general cataſtrophe; whereas while each part is left imperfect, I mean, incomplete, if disjoined or ſeparated from the reſt, the mind ſtill deſirous and eager of gratify⯑ing its expectations, is irreſiſtibly and imperceptibly drawn on from part to part, till it receives a full and ultimate ſatisfaction from the accompliſhment of one great event, which all thoſe parts, following and il⯑luſtrating each other, contributed to produce.

Our author was probably aware, that by conſti⯑tuting twelve ſeveral adventures for twelve ſeveral knights, a want of continuity and general concatena⯑tion of facts would be laid to his charge; and upon this account, I ſuppoſe, he ſometimes begins a ſtory in one book, the completion of which he defers, not without much interruption, to ſome future and di⯑ſtant book; a proceeding, which unavoidably occa⯑ſions much confuſion to the reader. And it ſeems to be for the ſame reaſon, that, after one of the twelve knights has fulfilled the adventure of his book, he in⯑troduces [8] him, in the next book; acting, perhaps, in an inferior light, and degraded to ſome leſs dangerous adventure; a conduct which deſtroys that repoſe which the mind feels after having accompanied a hero, thro' various diſtreſſes and difficulties, to ſucceſs and victory. Beſides, when we view the hero entering upon an in⯑ferior attempt, our former admiration is diminiſh⯑ed; having ſeen him once nobly and deciſively conquer, we become ſo warmly intereſted in his ho⯑nour, that we look upon his engagement in any po⯑ſterior enterpriſe (however ſucceſsfully) which is leſs arduous than that of which we had juſt before hail'd him the conqueror, as derogatory to that glory which he had juſt acquired by ſuch a conqueſt. Spenſer, per⯑haps, would have embaraſſed himſelf and the reader leſs, had he made every book one entire detached poem, without any the leaſt reference to the reſt. Thus he would have written twelve diſtinct poems, in all of which, he might have completed the pattern of a particular virtue in twelve knights reſpectively; at preſent, he has remarkably failed in endeavouring to repreſent all the virtues completed in the character of one. The poet muſt either have eſtabliſhed TWELVE KNIGHTS without an ARTHUR, or an ARTHUR without TWELVE KNIGHTS. Upon ſuppoſition that Spenſer was reſolved to characteriſe the twelve moral virtues, the former plan, perhaps, would have been beſt: the latter muſt neceſſarily want ſimplicity, as it is an action conſiſting of twelve actions, all equally great, and unconnected between themſelves; and not an action conſiſting of one uninterrupted and coherent chain of incidents tending to the accompliſh⯑ment of one deſign.

[9]It has been obſerv'd before, that our author endea⯑voured to expreſs the character of a knight perfected in the twelve moral virtues, by repreſenting him as aſſiſting in the ſervice or defence of each, till at laſt he becomes poſſeſſed of all: this plan, however, in⯑judicious, he certainly was obliged to obſerve; but in the third book, which is ſtiled the legend of Cha⯑ſtity, PRINCE ARTHUR doth not ſo much as lend his aſſiſtance in the protection or vindication of that virtue; he appears indeed, but not as an auxiliary in the adventure of the book.

It muſt, however, be confeſſed, that there is ſome⯑thing artificial in the poet's manner of varying from hiſtorical preciſion; a conduct which may be beſt il⯑luſtrated from his own words. ‘"But becauſe the be⯑ginning of the whole work ſeemeth abrupt, and as depending upon other antecedents, it needs that ye know the occaſion of theſe three knights ſeveral adventures. For the method of a poet hiſtorical, is not ſuch as of an hiſtoriographer. For an hiſto⯑riographer diſcourſeth of affairs orderly, as they were done, accounting as well the times as the action; but a poet thruſteth into the middeſt, even where it moſt concerneth him, and there re⯑courſing to the things forepaſt, and divining of things to come, maketh a pleaſing analyſis of all. The beginning therefore of my hiſtory, were it to be told by an hiſtoriographer, ſhould be in the twelfth book, which is the laſt; where I deviſe, that the FAERIE QUEENE held her annual feaſt twelve days; upon which twelve ſeveral days, the occaſion of twelve ſeveral adventures hap⯑pened: [10] which being undertaken by twelve ſeveral knights, are, in theſe twelve books, ſeverally hand⯑led and diſcourſed.^*"’ Thus according to this plan the reader would have been agreeably ſurpriſed, in the laſt book, when he came to diſcover, that all the adventures which he had juſt gone through, were un⯑dertaken at the command of the FAERIE QUEENE, and that all the knights had ſeverally ſet forward to the execution of them from her annual birth-day feſti⯑val; but Spenſer, in moſt of his books, has inju⯑diciouſly foreſtalled the firſt of theſe particulars; which certainly ſhould have been concealed till the laſt book, not only to have prevented a needleſs repe⯑tition of the ſame thing, but that he might likewiſe ſecure an opportunity to himſelf of amuſing the read⯑er's mind with a circumſtance new and unexpected.

But notwithſtanding the plan and conduct of our author, in the poem before us, is highly excep⯑tionable, yet I am apt to think, that the FAERIE QUEENE is not, upon the whole, ſo confuſed and irregular as the Orlando Furioſo. Though there is no general unity in the former, yet if we conſider every book or adventure as a ſeparate poem, we ſhall meet with ſo many diſtinct, however imperfect, uni⯑ties, by which means the reader is leſs bewildered, than by that general indigeſted medley of which the former totally conſiſts, and in which we meet with neither partial, nor univerſal unity.

[11] The very idea of celebrating the MADNESS of an hero, carries with it ſomewhat extravagant and abſurd. Or⯑lando doth not make his appearance till b. 8. where he is placed in a ſituation not very heroic; he is firſt diſcovered to us in bed, deſiring to ſleep. His ulti⯑mate deſign is to find Angelica, but his purſuit of her is broken off in b. 30; after which there are ſixteen more books to come, and in which Angelica diſappears. Other heroes are likewiſe engaged in the ſame purſuit. After reading the firſt ſtanza of b. 1. one would be inclined to think, that the ſubject of the poem was the expedition of the Moors into France, under their emperor Agramante, to fight againſt Charlemayne; but this matter is the leaſt part of the poem. In fact, many of the knights perform exploits equal, if not ſuperior to thoſe of Orlando; and particularly Rogero, with a grand atchievement of wholn the poem is cloſed, viz. his killing Rodo⯑mont; but this event is not the completion of a ſtory carried on principally through the whole work. The author paſſes from one incident to another, and from region to region (whether it be from England to the Heſperides, or from the earth to the moon) with ſuch incredible ſwiftneſs and rapidity, that one would think he was mounted upon his own winged ſteed Ippogrifo. He begins a tale of a knight in Europe, and ſuddenly breaks it off to reſume the unfiniſhed cataſtrophe of another in Aſia. The imagination of the reader is not ſo much involv'd in, as it is oppreſſed with the mul⯑tiplicity of ſtories, in the relation of each of which the poet is at the ſame time equally engaged. To reme⯑dy this inconvenience, it was thought proper to affix, [12] in ſome of the editions, marginal hints, informing the reader in what book and ſtanza the poet would recom⯑mence ſome interrupted epiſode; an expedient not more inartificial than that which the firſt painters were obliged to make uſe of, in order to aſſiſt their want of ſkill, who having drawn the figure of a man, a bird, or a quadruped, found it neceſſary to write under⯑neath the name of the kind to which the thing repre⯑ſented belonged. However, this method has been the means of giving the reader a clear comprehenſion of Arioſto's tales, which otherwiſe he could not have obtained without much difficulty. This poet is ſel⯑dom read twice in order; that is, by paſſing from the firſt canto to the ſecond, and from the ſecond to the reſt ſucceſſively; but by perſuing (without any regard to the order of the books, or the ſtanzas) the different ſtories, which though all ſomewhere finiſh'd, yet are, at preſent, ſo mutually interwoven, that the incidents of one are perpetually claſhing with thoſe of another. The ingenious Abbé Du Bos ^† obſerves hap⯑pily enough, that ‘"Homer is a geometrician in compariſon of Arioſto:"’ And, indeed, his miſ⯑cellaneous matter cannot be better expreſſed than by the two firſt verſes of his Exordium.

But, to return. Though the FAERIE QUEENE does not exhibit that oeconomy of plan, and exact arrange⯑ment [13] of parts which Epic ſeverity requires, yet we ſcarcely regret the loſs of theſe, while their place is ſo amply ſupplied, by ſomething which more powerfully attracts us, as it engages the affection of the heart, rather than the applauſe of the head; and if there be any poem whoſe graces pleaſe, be⯑cauſe they are ſituated beyond the reach of art, and where the faculties of creative imagination delight us, becauſe they are unaſſiſted and unreſtrained by thoſe of deliberate judgment, it is in this of which we are now ſpeaking. To ſum up all in a few words; tho' in the FAERIE QUEENE we are not ſatisfied as critics, yet we are tranſported as readers.

SECT. II. Of Spenſer's Imitations from old Romances.

ALthough Spenſer formed his FAERIE QUEENE upon the fanciful plan of Arioſto, as I remark⯑ed in the preceding ſection, yet it muſt be confeſſed, that the adventures of Spenſer's knights are a more exact and immediate copy of thoſe which we meet with in old romances, or books of chivalry, than they are of thoſe of which the Orlando Furioſo conſiſts. Arioſto's knights exhibit very ſurpriſing inſtances of their proweſs, and atchieve many heroic actions; but our author's knights are more particularly engaged in revenging injuries, and doing juſtice to the diſtreſſed; which was the proper buſineſs, and ultimate end of the antient knight-errantry. And thus though many of Spenſer's incidents and expedients are to be found in Arioſto, ſuch as that of blowing a horn, at the ſound [14] of which the gates of a caſtle fly open, of the vaniſh⯑ing of an enchanted palace or garden, after ſome knight has deſtroyed the enchanter, and the like, yet theſe are not more peculiarly the property of Ario⯑ſto, than they are common to all antient romances in general. Spenſer's firſt book is, indeed, a regular and preciſe imitation of ſuch a ſeries of action as we frequently meet with in books of chivalry: For in⯑ſtance, a king's daughter applies to a knight, that he would relieve her father and mother, who are cloſely confined to their caſtle, upon account of a vaſt and terrible dragon, that had ravaged their country, and perpetually laid in wait to deſtroy them. The knight ſets forward with the lady, encounters a monſter in the way, is plotted againſt by an enchanter, and after ſurmounting a variety of difficulties and obſtacles, arrives at the country which is the ſcene of the dra⯑gon's devaſtations, kills him, and is preſented to the king and queen, whom he has juſt delivered; mar⯑ries their daughter, but is ſoon obliged to leave her, on account of fulfilling a former vow. It may be likewiſe obſerved, that the circumſtance of each of Spenſer's twelve knights, ſetting out from one place, by a different way, to perform a different adventure, exactly reſembles that of the ſeven knights proceed⯑ing forwards to their ſeveral expeditions, in the well-known romance, entitled the Seven Champions of Chriſtendom. In fact, theſe miraculous books were highly faſhionable, and that chivalry, which was the ſubject of them, was ſtill practiced, in the age of queen Elizabeth.^*

[15]Among others, there is one romance which Spen⯑ſer ſeems more particularly to have made uſe of: It is entitled MORTE ARTHUR, The Lyf of Kyng Arthur, of his noble Knyghtes of the round table, and in thende the dolorous deth of them all. This was tranſlated into Engliſh from the French, by one Sir Thomas Maleory, Knight, and printed by W. Caxton, 1484^*. From this fabulous hiſtory our author has borrow'd many of his names, viz. Sir Triſtram, Placidas, Pelleas, Pellenore, Percivall, and others. As to Sir Triſtram, he has copied from this book the circumſtances of his birth and education with much exactneſs. Spenſer in⯑forms us that Sir Triſtram was born in Cornwall, &c.

And afterwards.

Which particulars are drawn from the romance abovemention'd. ‘"There was a knight Meliodas [Meliogras] and he was lord and king of the country of Lyones—and he wedded king Markes ſiſter of Cornewale."’ The iſſue of which mar⯑riage, as we are afterwards told, was Sir Triſtram^†. [16] Mention is then made in our romance, of Sir Tri⯑ſtram's baniſhment from Lyones into a diſtant country, by the advice, and under the conduct of a wiſe and learned counſellor named Governale. A circumſtance alluded to by Spenſer in theſe verſes.

Sir Triſtram's education is thus deſcrib'd below.

Which is agreeable to what is ſaid in the romance. After mention being made of Triſtram's having learn⯑ed [17] the language of France, courtly behaviour, and ſkill in chivalry, we have the following paſſage. ‘"As he growed in might and ſtrength, he laboured ever in hunting and hawking; ſo that we never read of no gentleman, more, that ſo uſed himſelfe therein.—And he began good meaſures of blowing of blaſts of ve⯑nery [hunting] and chaſe, and of all manner of ver⯑meins; and all theſe termes haves we yet of hawking and hunting: and therefore the booke of venery, of hawking and hunting, is called THE BOOKE OF SIR TRISTRAM^*."’ And in another place King Arthur thus addreſſes Sir Triſtram. ‘"For of all manner of hunting thou beareſt the priſe; and of all meaſures of blowing thou art the beginner; and of all the termes of hunting and hawking ye are the begin⯑ner.^**"’

From this romance our author alſo took the hint of his BLATANT BEAST; which is there call'd the QUESTING BEAST. ‘"Therewithall the King ſaw comming towards him the ſtrangeſt beaſt that ever he ſaw, or heard tell off.—And the noyſe was in the beaſts belly like unto the Queſtyn of thirtie couple of houndes."’ The QUESTING BEAST is afterwards more particularly deſcribed. ‘"That had in ſhap an head like a ſerpent's head, and a body like a liberd, buttocks like a lyon, and footed like a hart; and in his body there was ſuch a noyſe, as it had been the noyſe of thirtie couple of houndes Queſtyn, and ſuch a noyſe that beaſt made where⯑ſoever he went."^†’ Spenſer has made him a much [18] more monſtrous animal than he is here repreſented to be, and in general has varied from this deſcription; though there is one circumſtance in Spenſer's repre⯑ſentation, in which there is a reſemblance, viz.—ſpeaking of his mouth,

By what has been hitherto ſaid, perhaps the reader may not be perſuaded, that Spenſer, in his BLATANT BEAST, had the QUESTING BEAST of our romance in his eye; but the poet has himſelf taken care to in⯑form us of this: for we learn, from the romance, that certain knights of the round table were deſtined to purſue the QUESTING BEAST perpetually without ſucceſs: which Spenſer hints at in theſe lines.

Sir Lamoracke, and Sir Pelleas are two very valour⯑ous champions of Arthur's round table.

[19]This romance likewiſe ſupplied our author with the ſtory of the mantle made of the beards of knights, and locks of ladies; which laſt circumſtance is added by Spenſer.

Afterwards,

Thus in MORTE ARTHUR. ‘"Came a meſſenger—ſaying, that king Ryence had diſcomfited, and overcomen eleaven knights, and everiche of them did him homage; and that was this; they gave him their beards cleane flayne of as much as there was: wherefore the meſſenger came for king Ar⯑thur's berd: for king Ryence had purfeled a man⯑tell with king's beards, and there lacked for one place of the mantell. Wherefore he ſent for his berd; or elſe hee would enter into his lands, and brenn and ſley, and never leave, till he have thy [20] head and beard."^*’ After this paſſage we have an ^† antient ballad, the ſubject of which is this inſolent demand of king Ryence. Drayton, in his Poly⯑olbion, ſpeaks of a coat compoſed of the beards of kings: he is celebrating king Arthur.

But Drayton, in theſe lines, manifeſtly alludes to a paſſage in Geoffrey of Monmouth; who informs us, that a Spaniſh giant, named Ritho, having forcibly conveyed away from her guard Helena the niece of duke Hoel, poſſeſſed himſelf of St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall, from whence he made frequent ſallies, and committed various outrages; that, at laſt, king Arthur conquered this giant, and took from him a certain coat, which he had been compoſing of the beards of kings, a vacant place being left for king Arthur's beard.^(†)

As Spenſer has copied many other fictions from MORTE ARTHUR, I apprehend that he drew this from thence, and not from Geoffrey of Monmouth; not to mention, that Spenſer's circumſtances tally more exactly with thoſe in the romance.

[21]There is great reaſon to conclude, not only from what has already been mention'd concerning Spenſer's imitations from this romantic hiſtory of king Arthur and his knights, but from ſome circum⯑ſtances which I ſhall now produce, that it was a favo⯑rite and reigning romance about the age of queen Elizabeth; or at leaſt one very well known and much read at that time. Spenſer in the Shepherd's Calen⯑dar has the following paſſage.

Upon the words LADIES OF THE LAKE, E. K. the old commentator on the paſtorals has the follow⯑ing remark. ‘"LADIES OF THE LAKE be nymphes: for it was an old opinion among the antient Hea⯑thens, that of every ſpring and fountaine was a goddeſſe the ſoveraine; which opinion ſtucke in the minds of men not many years ſince by meanes of certain fine fablers, or looſe lyers; ſuch as were the authors of KING ARTHUR the great.—Who tell many an unlawfull leeſing of the LADIES OF THE LAKE."’ Theſe fine fablers or looſe lyers, are the authors of the romance above-mention'd, viz. MORTE ARTHUR, where many miracles are brought about, and much enchantment is carried on by the means and interpoſition of the LADY OF THE LAKE. Now [22] it ſhould be obſerved, that the LADY OF THE LAKE was introduc'd to make part of queen Elizabeth's en⯑tertainment at Kenelworth; as an evidence of which I ſhall produce a paſſage from an antient book entit⯑led ‘"A letter, wherein part of the entertainment un⯑too the queens majeſty at Killingworth-caſtl in Warwick-ſheer in this ſoomers progreſs, 1575, is ſignified."’ The paſſage is this. ‘"Her highneſs all along this tilt-yard rode unto the inner gate, next the baze coourt of the caſtle: whear the LADIE OF THE LAKE (famous in KING ARTHUR'S BOOK) with too nymphes wayting upon her, ar⯑rayed all in ſylkes, attended her highnes comming, from the midſt of the pool, whear upon a move⯑able iſland bright-blazing with torches ſhe floting to land, met her majeſty with a well-penned meter, and matter, after this ſorte; firſt of the auncientee of the caſtl; who had been owners of the ſame e'en till this day, moſt allways in the handes of the earles of Leyceſter; how ſhe had kept this lake ſyns king Arthur's dayes, and now underſtand⯑ing of her highneſ hither comming, thought it both offis and duety; to diſcover, in humble wiſe, her, and her eſtate, offring up the ſame, hir lake, and power thearin; with promis of repair to the court. It pleas'd her highneſ to thank this lady, &c."’

Gaſcoyne ^* in a little narrative called the ‘"Prince⯑ly Pleaſures of Kenelworth Caſtle,"’ gives us ſome of the above-mention'd metre, written by Ferrers, [23] one of the contributors to the mirror of magiſtrates, of which theſe may ſerve as a ſpecimen.

She is afterwards introduc'd complaining to the queen, that ſir Bruſe had inſulted her for doing an injury to Merlin, (an incident related in MORTE ARTHUR); and that he would have put her to death had not Neptune deliver'd her, by concealing her in that lake; from which confinement the queen is after⯑wards ſuppos'd to deliver her, &c.

Without expatiating upon the nature of ſuch a royal entertainment as this, I ſhall obſerve from it that the LADY OF THE LAKE (and conſequently the romance which ſupply'd this fiction) was a very po⯑pular character in the reign of queen Elizabeth; and we may add, that it is not improbable that Spenſer might allude in the above-cited verſes to ſome of the circumſtances in this part of the queen's entertainment; for queen Eliſabeth, the Fayre Eliſa, is the lady whom the LADIES OF LAKE are repreſented as repairing to, [24] in that eclogue^*. Nor is it improbable that this lady was often exhibited upon other occaſions. Nor is it improper to remark in this place that Ben. Johnſon has introduced her, together with king Arthur and Mer⯑lin, in an entertainment before the court of James I. called PRINCE HENRIES BARRIERS.

The above antient letter acquaints us, that the queen was entertain'd with a ſong from this romance, which is another proof of it's popularity at that time. ‘"A minſtrall came forth with a ſollem ſong warrant⯑ed for ſtory out of king Arthur's acts the firſt book, 24. whereof I gat a copy, and that is this, "So it fell out on a pentecoſt day "When king Arthur, &c."’

This is the ſong above hinted at, where mention is made of king Rience demanding the beard of king Arthur. In the ſame letter a gentleman who ſhew'd ſome particular feats of activity before the queen, is ſaid to be ‘"very cunning in fens, and hardy as Gawen."’ Which Gawen was king Arthur's ne⯑phew, and whoſe atchievements are highly celebrat⯑ed in MORTE ARTHUR.

We find Spenſer in another place alluding to the fable of the lady of the lake ſo much ſpoken of in this romance.

Theſe verſes are obſcure, unleſs we conſider the fol⯑lowing relation in MORTE ARTHUR. ‘"The LADY OF THE LAKE and Merlin departed; and by the way as they went, Merlin ſhewed to her many wonders, and came into Cornewaile. And alwaies Merlin lay about the ladie for to have her favour; and ſhe was ever paſſing wery of him, and faine would have been deliver'd of him; for ſhe was afraid of him, becauſe he was a divells ſon, and ſhe could not put him away by no meanes. And ſo upon a time it hapned that Merlin ſhewed to her in a roche [rock] whereas was a great wonder, and wrought by enchauntment, which went under a ſtone, ſo by her ſubtile craft and working ſhe made Merlin to go under that ſtone, to let him wit of the marvailes there. But ſhe wrought ſo [26] there for him, that he came never out, for all the craft that he could doe."^*’

Our author has taken notice of a ſuperſtitious tra⯑dition, which is related at large in this romance.

The HOLY GRAYLE, that is the real blood of our bleſſed Saviour. What Spenſer here writes GRALE, is often written SANGREAL, or St. grale in MORTE AR⯑THUR, and is there ſaid to have been brought into England by Joſeph of Arimathea. Many of king Arthur's knights are there repreſented as going in queſt, or in ſearch of the SANGREAL, or SANGUIS REALIS. This expedition was one of the firſt ſubjects of the old romance.

This romance ſeems to have extended its reputation beyond the reign of queen Elizabeth. B. Johnſon, beſides his alluſion to it in the LADY OF THE LAKE mention'd above, hints at it more than once:

And afterwards, in the ſame poem,

And Camden ^* refers to this hiſtory of king Arthur, as to a book familiarly known to the readers of his age. Speaking of the name TRISTRAM, he obſerves, ‘"I know not whether the firſt of this name was chriſtned by king Arthur's fabler."’ Again, of LAUNCELOT he ſpeaks, ‘"Some think it to be no ancient name, but forged by the writer of king Arthur's hiſtory, for one of his douty knights:"’ and of GAWEN, ‘"A name deviſed by the author of king Arthur's table."’

To this we may add, that Milton manifeſtly hints at it in the following lines,

Theſe are Sir Lancelot (or Sir Meliot) of Logris; Sir Triſtram of Lyones, and king Pellenore, who are [28] often mention'd in MORTE ARTHUR, and repre⯑ſented as meeting beautiful damſels in deſolate for⯑reſts: and probably he might have it in his eye when he wrote the following, as the round table is expreſs⯑ly hinted at.

To which we may ſubjoin,

Before I leave this romance, I muſt obſerve, that Arioſto has been indebted to it; I do not mean, to the old tranſlation, which Spenſer made uſe of. He has drawn his enchanter Merlin from it, and in theſe verſes refers to a particular ſtory concerning him, quoted above. Bradamante is ſuppos'd to viſit the tomb of Merlin.

Thus tranſlated by Harrington,

This deſcription of Merlin's tomb (ſays Harrington in a marginal note) is out of the BOOK OF KING AR⯑THUR. Arioſto has transferr'd the tomb from Wales into France. He afterwards feigns, that the prophe⯑tical ſculpture in Malagigi's cave was perform'd by Merlin's enchantment.

He alſo mentions ſome of the names of the knights of our romance; when Renaldo comes into Great-Bri⯑tain, the poet celebrates that iſland for its atchieve⯑ments in chivalry, and as having produc'd many brave knights,

Afterwards, in b. 32. Triſtram makes a great figure. From this romance is alſo borrow'd Arioſto's tale^* of the enchanted cup; which, in Caxton's old tranſla⯑tion, is as follows. ‘"By the way they met with a knight, that was ſent from Morgan le Faye to king Arthur; and this knight had a faire horne all gar⯑niſhed with gold; and the horne had ſuch a virtue, that there might no ladie or gentlewoman drink of that horne, but if ſhee were true to her huſband; and if ſhee were falſe, ſhee ſhould ſpill all the drinke; and if ſhee were true unto her lord, ſhee might drink peaceably, &c."^†’ Afterwards many tryals are made with this cup. The inimitable Fon⯑taine has new-moulded this ſtory from Arioſto, under the title of La coupe enchanteé. As it is manifeſt, from a compariſon of paſſages, that Arioſto was very con⯑verſant [31] in this romance; ſo I think it may be granted, that he drew the idea of his Orlando running mad with jealouſy from it. In MORTE ARTHUR, Sir Lancelot, out of a jealous fit, is driven to madneſs, in which ſtate he continues for the ſpace of two years, perform⯑ing a thouſand ridiculous pranks, no leſs extravagant than thoſe of Orlando; and, like him, at length he recovers his ſenſes.

I had forgot to remark before, that our author has borrow'd the name of Materaſta's caſtle from that of Lancelot in MORTE ARTHUR.

Lancelot's caſtle is ſtyl'd JOYOUS GARD, or caſtle.

There is another antient romance (for ſo it may be called, though it is written in verſe) which Spenſer apparently copies, in prince Arthur's combat with the dragon: it will be neceſſary to tranſcribe the whole paſſage.

This miraculous manner of healing our author drew from an old poem, entitled, Sir Bevis of Southampton, viz.

After which the Dragon ſtrikes the knight with ſuch violence, that he falls into a ſwoon, and tumbles as it were lifeleſs into the well, by whoſe ſovereign virtue he is reviv'd.

And afterwards,

[37]The circumſtance of the Dragon not being able to approach within ſeven feet of this well, is imitated by our author St. 49. below, where another water is men⯑tioned, which in like manner preſerves the knight.

Tho' we feel ſomewhat of an ill-natur'd pride, and a diſingenuous triumph, in having detected the latent and obſcure ſource, from whence an admired and ori⯑ginal author has drawn ſome favorite and celebrated deſcription; yet it muſt be confeſs'd, that this is ſoon overwhelmed by a generous and exalted pleaſure, which naturally flows from contemplating the chymi⯑cal energy of true genius, which can produce ſo won⯑derfull a tranſmutation, and whoſe virtues are not leſs potent, efficacious, and vivifying in their nature, than thoſe of the miraculous water here deſcribed.

It ſhould be mention'd in this place, that Spenſer, in his Dragon-encounters, follows the incidents made uſe of by the romance-writers, with all the punctuality of a cloſe copyiſt.

[38]As to Spenſer's original and genealogy of the Fairy nation, I am induc'd to believe, that part of it was ſupply'd by his own inexhauſtible imagination, and part by ſome fabulous hiſtory. He tells us, B. ii. c. 10. S. 70. that man, as firſt made by Prometheus, was called ELFE, who wandring through the world, at laſt arriv'd at the gardens of Adonis, where he found a female, whom he called FAY; that the iſſue of theſe two were called Fairies, who ſoon grew to be a mighty people, and conquer'd all nations. That their eldeſt ſon Elfin govern'd America, and the next to him, named Elfinan, founded the city of Cleopo⯑lis, which was enclos'd with a golden wall by Elfiline. That his ſon Elfine overcome the Gobbelines; but that, of all Fairies, Elfant was moſt renowned, who built Panthea of Cryſtall.—To theſe ſucceeded Elfar, who kill'd two brethren-giants; and to him Elfinor, who built a bridge of glaſs over the ſea, the ſound of which was like thunder. At length Elficleos rul'd the Fairy land with much wiſdom, and highly en⯑creas'd its honour: he left two ſons, the eldeſt of which, fair Elferon, died an immature death, and whoſe place was ſupply'd by the mighty Oberon, whoſe wide memorial (continues our author) ſtill re⯑mains, and who dying, left Tanaquil to ſucceed him by will, who is likewiſe called Glorian, or GLORIANA.

In the circumſtance of Elfinel, who overcame the Gobbelines, he plainly alludes to the faction of the Guelfes and Gibbelines in Italy; and his friend and commentator E. K. remarks,^* that our Elfes and [39] Goblins were deriv'd from thoſe two parties Guelfes and Gibelines. But in the latter part of this relation, under the fictitious names of theſe ideal beings, he has adumbrated ſome of our Engliſh princes. Elficleos is king Henry VII, whoſe eldeſt ſon Arthur died at ſixteen years of age; and whoſe youngeſt ſon Oberon, that is, Henry VIII, ſucceeded to the crown, marry⯑ing, about the ſame time, his brother Arthur's wi⯑dow, the princeſs Katherine; which is what Spenſer more particularly hints at in theſe lines,

The ſame of this king was very recent in our au⯑thor's age.

It is remarkable that Spenſer ſays nothing of Ed⯑ward VI. and queen Mary, who reigned between Henry VIII. and queen Elizabeth, but that he paſſes immediately from Oberon to Tanaquill, or GLORI⯑ANA, i. e. queen Elizabeth, who was excluded from her right by thoſe two intermediate reigns.

And the reader may obſerve, that there is much ad⯑dreſs and art in the poet's manner of making this o⯑miſſion. There is ſo much confuſion in Spenſer's [40] ſeries of this fairy people, that it is difficult to deter⯑mine, whether or no he has here allegoriſed any o⯑ther Engliſh reign. However in Elfant who laid the foundation of Cleopolis, he may ſignify king Lud, as it appears, by another place, that Cleopolis is London,

The faireſt FAERIE QUEENE is queen Elizabeth: and by the lines that immediately follow, it ſhould ſeem that Panthea is the queen's palace,

But this idea of the cryſtall tower, and of the gold⯑en wall, and bridge of glaſs, &c. mention'd above, ſeem to be ſome romantic tradition. As to his FAE⯑RIE QUEENE, the notion of ſuch a perſonage was very common; Chaucer in his Rime of Sir Thopas ſpeaks of her, together with a fairy land; and Shake⯑ſpere who was univerſally converſant in popular ſu⯑perſtition, has introduc'd her in his Midſummer⯑night's Dream. She was ſuppos'd to have held her court in the higheſt magnificence in the days of king Arthur, a circumſtance by which the happineſs of that reign was originally repreſented in the romantic annals of it.

[41]Thus Chaucer.

Thus Spenſer follow'd the popular tradition in ſup⯑poſing his ^† FAERIE QUEENE to exiſt in the age of [42] Arthur. In Chaucer we find that fairy land, and Fairies were us'd in a more general ſenſe for an ideal place and people. Thus in the marchants tale.

And above,

This fiction of the Fairies was undoubtedly brought with many other fantaſtic extravagancies of the like [43] nature from the Eaſtern nations, by the European Chriſtians, who had been at the holy war; and thoſe expeditions were ſome of the firſt ſubjects of romance; as an admirable judge of this matter obſerves; who farther informs us; ‘"Nor were the monſtrous em⯑belliſhments of enchantments, &c. the invention of the romancers, but form'd upon Eaſtern tales, brought thence by travellers from their cruſades and pil⯑grimages; which indeed have a caſt peculiar to the wild imagination of the Eaſtern people."^*’

The Perſians call the Fairies Peri; and the Arabs Ginn; and they feign, that there is a certain country inhabited by them, called Ginniſtian, which correſponds to our Fairy-land. Our old romantic hiſtory ſup⯑poſes that Arthur ſtill reigns in Fairy-land, from whence he will one day return to Britain, and re-eſta⯑bliſh the round table, &c. Thus Lydgate,

Many other inſtances might be alledged, from which it would be more abundantly manifeſted, that the imagination of our author was deeply tinctur'd with that ſpecies of writing with which his age was ſo [44] intimately acquainted, and ſo generally delighted: but we have, perhaps, been already ſufficiently prolix in a diſquiſition, which to the lovers of Spenſer, cannot appear altogether unentertaining; a diſquiſition, af⯑fording that kind of information, which, though it does not improve the judgment, will gratify the cu⯑rioſity. And if there ſhould be any readers, who, diſguſted with the ideas of knights, dragons, and en⯑chanters, ſhould, after peruſing the FAERIE QUEENE, addreſs the author of it, as cardinal d'Eſte did Ario⯑ſto, after reading his Orlando, ‘"Dove, Diavolo, Meſ⯑ſer Lodovico, avete pigliate tante coglionerie? Where the Devil, and did you pick up all theſe lies?"’ I beg thoſe gentlemen will look upon this ſection as a ſufficient anſwer to that queſtion.

SECT. III. Of Spenſer's uſe and abuſe of antient hiſtory and mythology.

AS Spenſer ſought to produce ſurpriſe by extra⯑vagant incidents, and fantaſtic deſcriptions, the mythology of the antients afforded matter no leſs co⯑pious than ſuitable for ſuch a deſign. He has ac⯑cordingly adopted ſome of their moſt romantic fic⯑tions, in many of which he has departed from the re⯑ceived tradition, as his purpoſe and ſubject required. And, indeed, with regard to our author's miſrepre⯑ſentation of the fables of antiquity, it may be ob⯑ſerved, that from thoſe arguments which are pro⯑duced [45] againſt his fidelity, new ones may be drawn in favour of his fancy. Spenſer's native force of in⯑vention would not permit him to purſue the letter of preſcribed fiction with tame regularity and ſcru⯑pulous exactneſs. In many particulars he varies from antiquity merely that he may introduce new beauties, and frequently mentions one or two circum⯑ſtances of antient fable, not ſo much with a deſign of adorning his poem with them, as of taking an oppor⯑tunity from them, of raiſing a new fiction of his own. He ſometimes, indeed, miſrepreſents theſe matters through haſte; his alluſions to antient hiſtory are likewiſe very frequent, which in many inſtances he has not ſcrupled to violate, with equal freedom, and for the ſame reaſons.

Mr. Jortin has cited many inſtances, by which it appears, that the antients were moſt ſuperſtitiouſly fearfull of uttering the name of Gorgon, or Daemo⯑gorgon. It may not be impertinent to remark, that they were no leſs afraid of calling the furies by their names.

Electra, in Euripides, ſays of the furies that tor⯑mented her brother.

And in another ſcene Oreſtes ſays,

Whom Menelaus anſwers,

Below we have the ſame ſuperſtition concerning Hecate; for which it would be difficult, perhaps, to bring any antient teſtimony,

Either that her name was fear'd in general, or that Morpheus was particularly afraid of uttering, or of hearing it. Our author, with great ſtrength of fancy, has feign'd ſuch a circumſtance as this of Merlin.

Though perhaps this is not more expreſſive of Mer⯑lin's diabolical power than what Olaus Magnus men⯑tions of that of a Swediſh enchanter, viz. That he could [47] blunt the edge of the weapons of his enemies only by looking at them; and that he could make hell a light place. ‘B. i. C. iv. S. 30.’ He is deſcribing Envy,

Ovid ^* tells us, that Envy was found eating the fleſh of vipers, which is not much unlike Spenſer's picture. But our author has heighten'd this circum⯑ſtance to a moſt diſguſting degree; for he adds, that the poyſon ran about her jaw. This is, perhaps, one of the moſt loathſom ideas that Spenſer has given us, though he paints very ſtrongly (as Jortin obſerves) B. i. i. 20.

As alſo in the diſcovery of Dueſſa, 1. 8. 47. 48. He is alſo very indelicate where he ſpeaks of Serena's wounds.

[48] See alſo 7. 7. 31. and 7. 7. 40. In reality, the ſtrength of our author's imagination could not be ſuppreſs'd or kept in on any ſubject, and in ſome meaſure it is owing to the fullneſs of his ſtanza, and the frequency of his rhymes, that he has deſcrib'd theſe diſagreeable ob⯑jects ſo minutely. But to return to his Envy. This perſonage is again introduc'd, 5. 12. 29. chawing a ſnake, of which circumſtance a moſt beautiful uſe is there made, St. 39.

It may be urg'd, that Spenſer drew the thought of her throwing the Snake at him, from Alecto's attack upon Amata.

But Spenſer's application of this thought, is ſurely a much greater effort of invention than the thought itſelf. The malignity both of Envy, and of her Snake, [49] could not have been expreſt is more ſignificant ſtrokes; tho' the ſnake was her conſtant food, yet ſhe was tempted to deprive herſelf of ſuſtenance, that ſhe might caſt it at him; and tho' the ſnake by being thus con⯑ſtantly fed upon was almoſt dead, yet it's natural ma⯑lignity enabled it to bite him violently.

Theſeus did not rend his tongue upon this occaſion. Mr. Jortin would excuſe our author for his falſe re⯑preſentation of this matter, by ſuppoſing an elleipſis, viz. he began to rend his hair, and (to blame or curſe) his tongue. Tho' Spenſer is full of elleipſes, yet he ſeldom has been guilty of ſuch a one as this; I ſhould therefore think this paſſage ought not to be refer'd to Spenſer's Elleipſes, but to that fault which he ſo fre⯑quently commits, the fal [...]ication of antient ſtory. Beſides the words that did offend join'd to haſtie tongue, ſeem to be given by the poet as an expreſs reaſon why he rent it. ‘B. i. C. vi. S. xiv.’ Sylvanus is here introduced,

I do not remember that Sylvanus is any where de⯑ſcrib'd as infirm with old age; neither did he uſe a [50] cypreſs-tree for the purpoſe here mentioned, which was a young plant torn up by the roots, and carried in his hand. Virgil addreſſes him,

Hercules ſlew the Hydra in the lake of Lerna, be⯑tween Mycenae and Argos. Stremona is no where to be met with, which probably he put for Strymon, a river of Macedonia in the confines of Thrace. But to read Strymon here, would no more help out the ſenſe, than it would the meaſure.

Spenſer is juſt to mythology in repreſenting Erebus and Night as married. In another place this addreſs is made to Night.

In theſe lines of Milton,

[51] Mr. Upton would read EREBUS for Cerberus: the alteration is indeed ingenious; and to his defence of it he might have added, that Milton, in one of his juvenile Latin poems, has ſhewn his knowledge of this mythological point, viz.

After all, it is not improbable but that Milton might write CERBERUS: full of the idea of the loath⯑ſomneſs of melancholy, he ſeems to have choſen out the moſt deteſtable parents for her that his imagination could ſuggeſt, CERBERUS and MIDNIGHT; and it ſhould be obſerved, that he does not ſay Midnight ſimply, but blackeſt Midnight, an epithet by which he ſtrongly marks out his abhorrence of the offspring of ſo foul a pair, and the conſiſtency and propriety of her being leagu'd with Cerberus.

Our author is likewiſe true to mythology in what he ſays of Night, in the following verſes,

Thus Orpheus, in his hymn to Night,

[52] He afterwards ſays of her,

That is in Chaos, who is the parent of Night, accord⯑ing to Heſiod.

Spenſer makes Night the mother of Falſhood, which is agreeable to Heſiod.

Spenſer gives Night a chariot, for which he has the authority of many antient poets. Theocritus,

Virgil,

Apollonius mentions the horſes of Night,

[53] As does Tibullus,

I have often thought, that what Spenſer ſays of the horſes of night, tempted Milton to go farther, and give them names.

Thus Spenſer,

And afterwards,

Milton's lines are theſe,

Tho' at the ſame time it is probable, that he thought of the horſes of the Sun, which are nam'd in Ovid. Milton, in the ſame poem, had an eye to another paſ⯑ſage in our author; who having deſcrib'd the per⯑ſonages, that ſate by the high-way leading to hell, adds this fine image,

Milton, after deſcribing ſome of the ſame per⯑ſonages, adds,

Among theſe perſonages, Milton's deſcription of Phonos, or murder (whom he couples with Pro⯑dotes, or treaſon) is remarkably beautifull.

But I think is equall'd by Fletcher's figure of Phonos, in his forgotten poem, called the Purple Iſland.

It is obſervable, that this little poem of Milton, as containing a council, conſpiracy, and attempt of Sa⯑tan, may look'd upon as an early preluſion of his ge⯑nius to the ſubject of the paradiſe loſt.

On this tree, he adds, grew golden apples; and that from this likewiſe ſprung the tree of the Heſperides; but theſe circumſtances, as alſo that of Proſerpina's garden, &c. is, I think, not to be juſtified from an⯑tient writers. He afterwards informs us, that the gold⯑en apples by which Acontius won Cydippe, and that which Ate threw among the Gods, were gather'd from [56] this tree: but theſe, as we learn from many paſſages in the Claſſics, were the produce of the Heſperian tree abovemention'd. He then tells us, that the branches of this tree overſpread the river Cocytus, in which Tantalus was plung'd up to the chin, who was perpe⯑tually catching at its fruit, in which he copies Ho⯑mer, in ſome meaſure; who acquaints us, that many trees of delicious fruit wav'd over the lake in which Tantalus was plac'd; but it does not appear, from him, that Tantalus was fix'd in Cocytus, but in ſome lake peculiarly appropriated to his puniſhment.

Spenſer has alſo made another uſe of Cocytus, viz. that the ſhores of Cocytus perpetually reſounded with the ſhrieks of damned ghoſts, who underwent an ever⯑laſting puniſhment by being dipt in its waters. Co⯑cytus, indeed, ſays antient fable, muſt be paſt, before there is any poſſibility of arriving at the infernal re⯑gions; but we do not find, that it was a puniſhment allotted to any of the ghoſts, to be thus plung'd into its waves; nor that this circumſtance was the cauſe of the cries which echoed around its banks.

What he has invented of Cocytus, exhibits a fine image: he ſuppoſes, that when Sir Guyon came to this river,

The antients tell us, that the golden apple, for which the goddeſſes ſtrove on mount Ida, was pluck'd in the garden of the Heſperides; but Spenſer's allego⯑riſing imagination feigns, that it grew in hell. He might probably receive the hint of this tree with the golden apples from Homer's mention of various trees which grew in hell, near the lake of Tantalus, hinted at above; but the ſilver ſtool beneath it is en⯑tirely his own, which Mammon perſuades the knight to ſeat himſelf upon, and is A NEW CIRCUMSTANCE of TEMPTATION.

After all, as the mythology of the Pagans was their religion, the violation of it is hardly excuſable.

Theſe lines may be farther illuſtrated from the fol⯑lowing paſſage in Natalis Comes.

‘"Dictus eſt autem GENIUS, ut placuit latinis, a gignendo, vel quia nobiſcum gignatur, vel quia illi procreandorum cura divinitus commiſſa puta⯑retur. Hic creditur nobis clam nunc ſuadens, nunc diſſuadens, univerſam vitam noſtram gu⯑bernare.—Nam exiſtimantur Genii Dae⯑mones rerum, quas voluerint nobis perſuadere, ſpectra & imagines ſibi tanquam in ſpeculo impri⯑mere, quodcunque illis facillimum ſit. In quae ſpectra cum anima noſtra clam reſpexerit, illa ſibi veniunt in mentem, quae ſi ratione perpendantur, tum recta fit animi deliberatio: at ſi quis poſthabi⯑bita ratione, malorum ſpectrorum & viſorum ductu feratur, ille in multos errores incurrat neceſſe eſt, ſi ſpectra fuerint praecipue a malignis daemonibus oblata.^*"’ That the firſt Genius here mention'd was likewiſe called Agdiſtes, we learn from the ſame au⯑thor. ‘"Quem poſtea Agdiſtem appellarunt."^(†)’

[59]The ceremony of offering flowers and wine to the Genius expreſt in theſe lines,

Is found in Horace,

The Genius ſpoken of in the following ſtanzas, ſeems to be that which is repreſented in the PIC⯑TURE of Cebes.

The Third Booke of the FAERIE QUEENE; contain⯑ing the legend of BRITOMARTIS, or of CHASTITY.

Britomartis, among the Cretans, was another name for Diana, the goddeſs of Chaſtity; and in this book Spenſer's Britomartis is repreſented as the patroneſs of Chaſtity. It is not improbable, as our author has copied the greateſt part of the ſecond Canto of this book from the Ceiris of Virgil, that he learn'd, from the ſame poem, that Britomartis was a name for Diana, viz.

She was a Cretan nymph, and the daughter of Jupi⯑ter and Charme, whom Virgil has introduced, in his Ceiris, as the nurſe of Scylla, and from whom our [61] author has copied his Glauce, Britomart's nurſe, in the Canto mentioned above. She was called Dictyn⯑na, becauſe ſhe invented nets for hunting, which be⯑ing alſo one of Diana's names, Britomartis and Dia⯑na were look'd upon as the ſame. Callimachus ſpeaks of her as one of the nymphs of Diana's train, but obſerves, that ſhe was called by the Cydonians, Dic⯑tynna. He has left us the hiſtory of Britomartis in his hymn to Diana.

Upon the word [...], ſays the ſcholiaſt, ‘ [...].’ And Solinus ſpeaks to the ſame effect. ‘"Cretes Dianam religioſiſſimè venerantur [...] gentiliter nominantes, quod ſermone noſtro ſonat virginem dulcem."^*’ But tho' Spenſer in Brito⯑martis had ſome reference to Diana, yet at the ſame time he intended to denote by that name the martial BRITONESSE.

The reader is deſired to take notice, that the paſſage which Spenſer has copied from the Ceiris of Virgil begins at this verſe of that poem.

And ends at,

‘B. iii. C. vi. S. 30.’ Speaking of the garden of Adonis,

In his deſcription of this garden he might probably have an eye to the notion of the antients concerning Adonis, that he repreſented the ſun which quickens the growth of all things. Thus Orpheus, in his Hymn to Adonis,

Others repreſent him as the ſeed of wheat. Thus the ſcholiaſt of Theocritus, after having informed us, that Adonis after his death remained ſix months in the em⯑braces of Venus, and ſix months with Proſerpine. ‘ [...] [64] [...].^(*)’ ‘"Hoc re vera ita ſe habet: ſcilicet, quod Adonis frumentum eſt ſatium: quod ſex menſes ſub terra degit; & ſex menſes eum habet Venus; nimirum Aeris tempe⯑ries; & poſtea a meſſoribus colligitur."’ Orpheus, in the ſame hymn, calls the body of Adonis,

He has placed Cupid and Pſyche in this garden, where they live together in

But Apuleius repreſents this happy ſtate of Cupid and Pſyche to have commenced after their reception into Heaven. However, their offspring, Pleaſure, is a⯑greeable to what Apuleius relates, ‘"Sic ecce Pſyche venit in manum Cupidinis; & naſcitur illis matu⯑ro partu filia, quam VOLUPTATEM nominamus."^*’ He has made Pleaſure the daughter of Cupid in ano⯑ther place; ſpeaking to Love,

[65] ‘B. iii. C. xi. S. xlvii.’Of the ſtatue of Cupid.

Cupid was repreſented by the antients with parti⯑colour'd wings, as we learn (among others) from this paſſage quoted by Mr. Jortin, from an epigram aſcrib'd to Virgil,

But this pictureſque circumſtance was probably ſup⯑ply'd by our author's fancy. In the Paſtorals, March, he draws Cupid after the ſame manner,

Thus alſo of love, in the next Canto, St. 23.

In the compariſon of the Peacock and the Rainbow, (as they occur together) he probably imitated Taſſo.

Spenſer's proud Pavone is literally Taſſo's ſuperbo Pa⯑von. He has again join'd theſe two compariſons; Speaking of a Butterfly's wings.

Where eye-ſpotted traine is plainly the occhiute piume of the Italian poet.

Chaucer, in one of his figures of Cupid, ſuppoſes that his wings were adorn'd with rich plumage.

[67]Moſt of the antient writers who relate the ſtory of Hylas, mention the circumſtance of Hylas's name being often re-echo'd by the hills, &c. when it was ſo loudly and frequently call'd upon by Hercules; but I do not recollect that any of them ſpeak of the nymphs as repeating his name. With regard to the for⯑mer particular, Antonius has given us an ex⯑plication of it, not generally known, from the [...] of Nicander. ‘"Hercules (ſays he) having made the hills and forreſts tremble, by calling ſo mightily on the name Hylas; the nymphs who had ſnatch'd him away, fearing leſt the enraged lo⯑ver ſhould at laſt diſcover Hylas in their fountain, transformed him into Echo, which anſwer'd Hylas to every call of Hercules."’ This ſolution throws a new light on the circumſtance of Hylas's name being ſo often eccho'd back, and which is particularly inſiſted on by Virgil, Eclog. 6. v. 44. by Propertius, in his E⯑legy De Raptu Hylae, 1. 20. and by Valerius Flaccus, b. 7. v. 593. On account of the many invocations of his name, ſaid to be made by Hercules, and of its being ſo often re-eccho'd, I ſuppoſe a cuſtom, men⯑tion'd by Solinus, was every year celebrated on the banks of the lake Hylas. ‘In cujus [Hylae] memoriam uſque adhuc ſolenni curſitatione lacum populus circuit, & Hylam Voce clamat. ^*’ The diſtreſs of Hercules, after he had loſt Hylas, is finely deſcribed by Valerius Flaccus, 3. 565. & ſeq. and the manner by which Hylas is decoy'd to the fountain is a pretty poe⯑tical fiction. v. 545. Upon the whole, I am in⯑duced [68] to think, that Apollonius has much more beautifully deſcrib'd this ſtory than Theocritus. It is remarkable, that Scaliger, who, in general, prefers Flaccus to his original Apollonius, ſhould thus ex⯑preſs himſelf of the compariſon concerning the an⯑guiſh felt by Hercules on the occaſion of loſing Hy⯑las, which occurs in both poets, (after quoting the Latin of Flaccus) ‘Haec quidem ſonora magis; plus ta⯑men arrident Graeca. ^*’ ‘B. iv. C. x. S. xlvii.’ The poet is addreſſing Venus,

Mr. Jortin obſerves, that Venus is called GOD in Virgil.

Where Servius: ‘DEO, ſecundum eos, qui dicunt utriuſ⯑que ſexus participationem habere numina; nam ait Calvus.’

To this it may be added, that the poet prepares the reader for the appellation GOD, apply'd to Venus, St. 41. above, in his deſcription of the ſtatue of that goddeſs.

He has alſo follow'd the ſame notion, in Colin Clouts Come Home Again.

The character of executing juſtice, here attributed to Talus, is exactly agreeable to that which he bears in antient ſtory; nor has Spenſer greatly varied from antiquity in the make of this wonderfull man; for he is there ſaid to be form'd of braſs, and by our author of iron. Plato gives the following account of him. ‘ [...] [70] [...].^†’ ‘Utebatur autem Minos hoc legum ſuarum cuſtode apud urbem; in caeteris vero Cretae partibus Talo. Et profectò Talus ter in anno vicos circuibat legibus tuen⯑dis intentus in illis; quas habebat in aeneis tabulis in⯑ſcriptas; unde nuncupatus eſt Talus.’ As to the cir⯑cumſtance of Talus's traverſing the iſle of Crete, it exactly correſponds with what Spenſer ſays afterwards of his iron man, who did the ſame in Ierne.

Plato has told us, that Talus was called brazen, on account of his carrying the laws about with him, writ⯑ten in brazen tables; but Apollonius informs us, that he was actually made of braſs, and invulnerable.

Apollonius likewiſe takes notice of his circuiting Crete three times a year.

Apollodorus will further illuſtrate this matter. ‘ [...].^*’ ‘Exinde navi⯑gantes prohibentur quò minùs Cretae appellerent a Talo; hunc quidam aenei generis hominum eſſe dicunt; illi a Vulcano Minoi traditum fuiſſe: erat autem Homo ahe⯑neus: ſunt autem qui eum Taurum nominant. Habebat verò venam unam a cervice uſque ad crura protenſam: in tuniculâ vero venae aeneus infigebatur clavus. Talus iſte ter. unoquoque Die inſulam percurrens eam contueba⯑tur.’ This marvellous ſwiftneſs of Talus is likewiſe refer'd to by our author,

And is alluded to by Catullus, in his Ode to Camerius, where he tells him that he ſhould not be able to pur⯑ſue him,

Orpheus (or rather ^*Onomacritus) calls TALUS, in his Argonautics,

‘"The brazen-triple giant."’ The circumſtance of the iron flail is added from our author's imagination.

Ovid reports, Met. 4, that Ino threw herſelf, with her ſon Melicerta, from the top of a rock into the ſea. Others ſay that ſhe murdred Melicerta, and after that leapt into the ſea. It is difficult to fix upon Spenſer's preciſe meaning in theſe verſes.

The madding mother is Agave. Her ſon Pentheus being of a very temperate diſpoſition, and conſequent⯑ly averſe to the rites of Bacchus, ſhe, together with the reſt of the Maenades, tore him in pieces in the midſt of the Bacchanalia. Mr. Upton, inſtead of,

would read, her SON'S dear fleſh. But ſurely the poet (and that with no great impropriety of expreſ⯑ſion) might mean her Son's fleſh, by her owne fleſh.

who guarded the purple oxen of Geryon. I wonder that Spenſer ſhould in this place omit the mention of a ſeven-headed dragon, who, together with Orthrus, was placed to guard theſe oxen, and was likewiſe the offspring of Typhaon and Echidna.

‘B. iv. C. xi. S. xiii.’He is giving a catalogue of the Sea Gods; among the reſt is Aſtraeus,

[74]Natalis Comes thus relates the ſtory of Aſtraeus. ‘"Aſtraeus qui per inſcitiam congreſſus cum Alcippe ſorore, ſequenti die cognita affinitate ex annulo, maerore captus ſe in fluvium praecipitavit, qui prius dictus eſt Aſtraeus ab ipſo, &c."^*’ Of theſe afterwards, S. 17.

Natalis Comes having finiſh'd his catalogue of theſe divinities, adds, ‘Ut alios infinitos prope praetermittam; nam plures quàm octoginta me legiſſe memini.’ Spenſer probably took his catalogue from this mythologiſt; I think he has given us no names (Albion excepted) but what are found in that author; and beſides the account of Aſtraeus above-mention'd, we find Spen⯑ſer's Euphemus copied from him.

N. Comes.— ‘Euphemus—cui Munus dedit ut ſuper undis tanquam ſuper terrâ proficiſceretur. ^†’

[75] Of the juſtice and prophetical power of Nereus, Mr. Jortin has produc'd antient teſtimonies. This laſt part of his character may be illuſtrated from theſe lines in Orpheus,

Speaking of the Graces,

Milton, in his L'Allegro, repreſents the Graces as the offspring of Venus and Bacchus. This mytholo⯑gy (as an ingenious critic on that paſſage obſerves) without doubt ſuits the nature of Milton's ſubject bet⯑ter; but I can hardly think that ſuch a liberty is al⯑lowable upon any occaſion. The mention of Eury⯑nome, in this ſtanza of our author, puts me in mind of another paſſage in Milton, where this Goddeſs is likewiſe mention'd.

[76] Which, as the learned Dr. Newton and others ob⯑ſerve, is copied from theſe verſes of Apollonius,

What I have to obſerve here, is, that Apollonius, as well as Milton, has hinted, that Ophion was of the ſerpent-race: which will appear from conſidering what goes before theſe lines.^* Orpheus begins his [77] ſong with the creation of things; after mentioning the ſun and moon, mountains and rivers, he ſpeaks of the creation of ſerpents.

[78] And in the next line, from theſe EPITETA, or Ser⯑pents, he paſſes on to Ophion,

Thus here is a cloſe connection, and an eaſy tranſition in the context of Apollonius, which doth not appear at firſt ſight.

As an inſtance of an imitation of Milton from A⯑pollonius has been juſt produced, I hope the reader [79] will excuſe my taking this opportunity of producing another. The Engliſh poet thus deſcribes Adam's hair,

The circumſtance of the hair hanging like bunches of grapes, has been juſtly admired; but it is literally [80] tranſlated, from this deſcription of Apollo's hair, in the Greek poet.

The word [...] could hardly be render'd into Engliſh by any other word than by cluſtring.

‘B. vii. C. vi. S. iii.’Spenſer here makes Hecate the daughter of the Titans. Authors differ concerning the parents of Hecate; Orpheus calls her,

[81] The Titans were indeed thrown into Tartarus, but it could not be ſaid, from thence, that the Titans were her parents; tho' this, I preſume, was the beſt argument that our author had for his genealogy. In this ſtanza Bellona is likewiſe feigned to be the off⯑ſpring of the Titans; but Bellona was the ſiſter of Mars, who was the ſon of Jupiter and Juno; or, as Ovid reports, of Juno alone.

A claſſical reader of the FAERIE QUEENE may diſ⯑cover many other examples which properly belong to this Section; but thoſe which are here omitted, he may find ^* collected with equal learning and ſagacity, by one, whoſe excellent writings as a critic, are only ſurpaſs'd by thoſe in which he has diſtinguiſh'd himſelf as a chriſtian.

SECT. IV. Of Spenſer's Stanza, Verſification, and Language.

ALthough Spenſer's favourite Chaucer had made uſe of the ottave Rime ^† or Stanza of eight lines, yet it is moſt probable, that our author was induced to make choice of it (with the addition of one line) from the example of Taſſo and Arioſto, who were the moſt faſhionable poets of his age. But Spenſer, in making this choice of his ſtanza, ſeems not ſuffi⯑ciently to have conſider'd the genius of the Engliſh language, which will not eaſily admit of that more frequent repetition of the ſame termination, which [82] this ſtanza requires; a circumſtance not difficult in the Italian, which deals largely in identical cadences.^† This conſtraint led our author into many abſurdities. For example,

• I. It neceſſitated him to dilate the thing to be ex⯑preſt, however unimportant, with trifling and inſipid circumlocutions, viz.
  Now hath faire Phaebe with her ſilver face,

  Thrice ſeene the ſhadows of the nether world,

  Sith laſt I left that honorable place,

  In which her royal preſence is enroll'd.

  2. 3. 44.
  That is, ‘"it is three months ſince I left her palace."’
• II. It obliged him, when matter fail'd him to⯑wards the cloſe of his Stanza, to run into a ridiculous redundancy and repetition of words, viz.
  In which was nothing pourtrahed nor wrought,

  Nor wrought, nor pourtrahed, but eaſie to be thought.

  2. 9. 33.
• III. It forc'd him, in order to make out his com⯑plement of rhymes to introduce a puerile or imperti⯑nent idea, viz.
  Not that proud towre of Troy tho' richly GILT,

  2. 9. 45.
  In this line, being laid under a neceſſity of producing ſomewhat conſonant to ſpilt and built, which went be⯑fore, [83] he has given us an image at once little and im⯑proper. And to the difficulty of his ſtanza, I think we may impute the great number of his Ellipſes, ſome of which will be pointed out in another place.

Notwithſtanding theſe abſurdities flow from Spen⯑ſer's ſtanza, yet it muſt be own'd that ſome ad⯑vantages ariſe from it; and we may venture to affirm, that the fullneſs and ſignificancy of Spenſer's deſcrip⯑tions is often owing to the prolixity of his ſtanza, and the multitude of his rhymes. The diſcerning reader is deſired to conſider the following ſtanza as an inſtance of what is here advanced. Guyon is binding Furor.

In this ſtanza there are ſome images which are, per⯑haps, the conſequence of a multiplicity of rhymes.

Dryden, I think, ſomewhere remarks, that rhyme often helped him to a thought; an obſervation, which, probably, Spenſer's experience had likewiſe ſupplied him with: Spenſer, however, muſt have found more convenience, in this reſpect, from writing in rhyme, than Dryden, in proportion as the ſtanza of the for⯑mer obliged him to a more repeated uſe of it.

In ſpeaking of Spenſer's rhyme, it ought to be re⯑mark'd, that he often new-ſpells a word to make it rhyme more preciſely. Take theſe ſpecimens.

and to be ſhort, we meet with ycled for yclad, darre for dare, prejudize for prejudice, ſam for ſame, lam for lamb, denay for deny, pervart for pervert, heare for hair, and numberleſs other inſtances of the orthography being deſtroyed for the rhyme-ſake. This was a liberty which Chaucer, Gower, and Lyd⯑gate frequently made uſe of; and it may not be im⯑proper in this place to exhibit the ſentiments of a ^* critic in Q. Elizabeth's age upon it. ‘"Now there cannot be in a maker a fowler fault than to falſifie his accent to ſerve his cadence; or by untrue orthography to wrench his words to help his rhyme; for it is a ſign that ſuch a maker is not copious is his own lan⯑guage".’—However he ſeems afterwards to allow the deviation from true ſpelling, in ſome meaſure. ‘"It [86] is ſomewhat more tollerable to help the rhyme by falſe orthographie, than to leave an unpleaſant diſſonance to the eare, by keeping trewe orthographie and loſing the rime; as for example, it is better to rime dore with reſtore, than in his true orthographie which is doore.—Such men were in effect the moſt part of all your old rimers, and 'ſpecially Gower, who to make up his rime would for the moſt part write his termi⯑nant ſyllable with falſe orthographie; and many times not ſticke to put in a plaine French word for an Engliſh; and ſo by your leave do many of our com⯑mon rymers at this day."^†’ We find in many paſſages of our author the orthography violated, when the rhyme without ſuch an expedient would be very exact; thus BITE when made to rhyme with DELIGHT is ſome⯑times ſpelt BIGHT, as if the eye could be ſatisfy'd in this caſe as well as the ear. Inſtances of this ſort oc⯑cur often in Harrington's Arioſto, and more particu⯑larly of the word ſaid, which is often occaſionally written SED. This practice was continued as far down as the age of Milton.

Said is thus printed SED in the edition of 1645, that it might appear to rhyme, with greater propriety, to the preceding ſpread: later editors, not know⯑ing the faſhion of writing ſaid, upon ſome occaſions, SED, alter'd it to fed, which utterly deſtroy'd the [87] ſenſe. The ſame ſpelling is met with again in the ſame edition, and for the ſame reaſon, in L'Allegro.

Hughes, not conſidering our author's cuſtom of miſ⯑ſpelling a word for the convenience of rhyme, makes him frequently guilty of ſome very bad rhymes; for that editor (among other examples of his correctneſs) has reduced Spenſer's text to modern orthography with great accuracy.

It is indeed ſurpriſing, upon the whole, that our author ſhould have been able to execute a poem of ſuch a length as the FAERIE QUEENE with ſo much ſpirit, laden with ſo many ſhackles, and oppreſt with ſo grievous a BONDAGE OF RIMING. I do not re⯑member that he has been ſo inaccurate, as to make the ſame word rhyme to itſelf in more than four or five inſtances; a fault, which if he had committed very frequently, his many beauties of verſification would have obliged us to overlook; and which Har⯑rington ſhould more frequently have avoided, to compenſate, in ſome meaſure, for the tameneſs and proſaic mediocrity of his numbers.

Notwithſtanding our author's affectation ^* of obſo⯑lete phraſes and words, yet it may be affirm'd, that [88] his ſtyle is, in general, perſpicuous, flowing, and exuberant. His Paſtorals are written in a profeſs'd imitation of the ſtyle of Chaucer, of which he has taken care to acquaint us, in the beginning of Colin Clouts Come Home Again.

And the tale of the Oak and Briar, in the Paſtoral of Februarie, is more particularly modelled after Chau⯑cer's manner, and is accordingly uſher'd in with this preparatory introduction.

And in another Paſtoral he hints at his having copied Chaucer.

[89] He even ſeems, in the Paſtorals, to have attempt⯑ed an imitation of the viſions ^* of Pierce Plow⯑man; [90] for after exhorting his muſe not to contend with Chaucer, he adds,

[91] And beſides, that his Paſtorals might appear a more complete ſpecimen of a work in old Engliſh, he has given them the title of an old book called the SHEP⯑HEARD'S KALENDER, firſt printed by Wynkin a [92] Worde, and reprinted about twenty years before our author publiſhed his Paſtorals, viz. 1559. Hence, ſays E. K. in his Epiſtle prefix'd, ‘"He tearmeth it the SHEPHERD's KALENDER, applying an old name to a new work."’ One of Spenſer's reaſons for uſing ſo much antient phraſeology in theſe Paſtorals, was undoubtedly with a deſign to ſtamp a Doric, or rather ruſtic ſimplicity upon them; but the princi⯑pal one was that which is deliver'd by his friend and commentator^†, ‘"who was privie to all his deſigns",’ E. K. ‘"In myne opinion, ſays he, it is one eſpeciall prayſe of many which are due to this poet, that he hath labour'd to reſtore, as to their rightfull heri⯑tage, ſuch good and naturall Engliſh words, as have been long time out of uſe, and almoſt cleane diſherited; which is the onely cauſe that our mother-tongue, which truly of itſelfe is both ful enough for proſe, and ſtately enough for verſe, hath long time beene counted moſt bare and barren of both; which default, when as ſome have endevored [93] to ſalve and recure, they patched up the holes with peeces and ragges of other languages; borrowing here of the French, there of the Italian, and every where of the Latine; not weighing how ill thoſe tongues accord with themſelves, but much worſe with ours; ſo now they have made our Engliſhe tongue a gallimaufrey, or hodge-podge of all other ſpeeches."’ Thus that which induced Spenſer to adopt ſo much obſolete language in the Paſtorals, induced him likewiſe to do the ſame in the FAERIE QUEENE. Hence it is manifeſt, that he was diſguſted with the practice of his cotemporary writers, who had adulterated, according to his judgement, the purity of the Britiſh tongue by various innovations from the Spaniſh, French, Latin, and Italian. And that this was the caſe in the age of Queen Elizabeth will appear from the following paſſages. Thus Marſton in his ſatires.

And Camden having given us a ſpecimen of the Lord's Prayer in old Engliſh has theſe words. ‘"Hitherto will our ſparkfull youth laugh at their great grand-fathers Engliſh, who had more care to do well, than to ſpeak minion-like; and left more glory to us by their exploiting great actes, than we ſhall by our forging new words, and un⯑couth phraſes."^†’ A learned gentleman one [94] R. C. who has inſerted a letter to Camden in his re⯑mains, thus ſpeaks. ‘"So have our Italian travellers brought us acquainted of their ſweet-reliſhed phraſes; even we ſeeke to make our good of our late Spaniſh enemie, and fear as little the hurt of his tongue, as the dint of his ſword."’ again, ‘"We within theſe ſixty years have incorporated ſo many Latin and French words, as the third part of our tongue conſiſteth now in them."’ And Aſcham in his Schole-Maſter informs us, that not only the language but the manners of Italy had totally infected his country-men, where he is deſcribing the ITALIANIZ'D ENGLISHMAN.^*

[95]Our author's diſapprobation of this practice may be made to appear more fully from his own words, [96] where he hints that Chaucer's language (which he ſo cloſely copied) was the pure Engliſh.

But tho' Spenſer diſapprov'd of this corrupt adul⯑teration of ſtyle, ſo faſhionable in is age, yet we find [97] him notwithſtanding, frequently introducing words from a foreign tongue ſuch, as, viſnomie, amen⯑ance, [98] arret, meſpiſe, ſovenance, afrap, aguiſe, a⯑menage, abaſe, and the like; but theſe words the frequent return of his rhyme obliged him to intro⯑duce, and accordingly they will generally be found at the end of his lines. Thus the poverty of our tongue (or rather the unfrequency of identical termi⯑nations in it) often compelled him for the ſake of rhyme, to coin new Engliſh words, ſuch as damni⯑fy'd, unmercify'd, wonderment, warriment, unruli⯑ment, habitaunce, hazardrie, &c. &c. To this cauſe his many latiniſms may likewiſe be attributed, which, like the reſt, are ſubſtituted to make out the neceſſary jingle.

The cenſure of B. Johnſon, upon our author's ſtyle, is perhaps unreaſonable, ‘"Spenſer, in affecting the antients, writ no language."^*’ The ground-work [99] and ſubſtance of his ſtyle, is the language of the age in which he lived; this indeed is ſeaſon'd with va⯑rious expreſſions deduced from a remote age, but in ſuch a manner, that the language of his age was ra⯑ther ſtrengthened and dignified, than debas'd or diſ⯑guis'd by ſuch a practice. In truth, the affectation of Spenſer in this point, is by no means ſo ſtriking and viſible as Johnſon has inſinuated; nor is our author ſo obſolete in his ſtyle, as he is generally thought, or repreſented to be. For many ſtanzas together we may frequently read him with as much facility, as we can the ſame number of lines in Shake⯑ſpere. But tho' I cannot ſubſcribe to the opinion of the laſt-quoted critic, concerning our author's recourſe to the antients, yet I muſt confeſs, that the fol⯑lowing ſentiments, relating to the ſame ſubject, are admirable. ‘"Words borrow'd of antiquity do lend a kind of majeſty to ſtyle, and are not without their delight ſometimes. For they have the autho⯑rity of yeares, and out of their intermiſſion do lend a kind of grace-like newneſſe. BUT THE ELDEST OF THE PRESENT, AND NEWNESSE OF THE PAST LANGUAGE IS THE BEST."^†’

SECT. V. Of Spenſer's Imitations from Chaucer.

IT has been before obſerv'd in general, that Spenſer copied the language of Chaucer; it may with equal truth be affirm'd, that he has likewiſe in many paſ⯑ſages [100] imitated the ſentiment of Chaucer; and I ſhall now proceed to give ſome ſpecimens of his imitati⯑on in both theſe particulars.

^*Ovid, ^†Seneca, ^(*)Lucan, ^(†)Statius, and ^††Claudian, have all left us a deſcription of trees; [101] but Spenſer, in this before us, ſeems more imme⯑diately to have had his favourite Chaucer in his eye; he has, however, much improv'd upon the brevity and ſimplicity of our antient bard.

In Chaucer's Complaint of the blacke knight, we meet with another deſcription of trees, from which Spenſer ſeems alſo to have drawn one or two circumſtances.

Spenſer, perhaps, in having given us this minute and particular enumeration of various trees, has incurred a ſmaller ſhare of cenſure than ſome of the Roman authors mentioned above. In ſome of them, indeed, ſuch a deſcription will be found ſuperfluous and im⯑pertinent; but, upon this occaſion, it is highly con⯑ſiſtent, and, indeed, expedient, that the poet ſhould dwell, for ſome time, on the beauty of this grove, in deſcribing its variety of trees, as that circumſtance tends to draw the red-croſs knight and his compa⯑nion farther and farther into the ſhade, 'till at length [102] they are imperceptibly invited to the cave of error, which ſtood in the thickeſt part of it: in ſhort, this deſcription is ſo far from being puerile, or ill-placed, that it ſerves to improve, and help out the allegory. But notwithſtanding this may be affirm'd, in com⯑mendation of Spenſer, yet I am apt to think, that the impropriety of introducing ſuch a deſcription, would not have appear'd a ſufficient reaſon to our poet, why he ſhould not have admitted it; for his judgment was ſo greatly overwhelm'd by his imagination, that he could never neglect the opportunity of a good de⯑ſcription, whenever it preſented itſelf. The reader will excuſe my producing another paſſage from Chaucer, in which he ridicules, with no leſs humour than judg⯑ment, the particular detail of trees, and of the circum⯑ſtances which follow'd upon their being fell'd, given us by one of the above-mention'd antient poets. He is ſpeaking of Arcite's funeral.

‘B. i. C. xii. S. xiv.’The poet is ſpeaking of the magnificent feaſting, af⯑ter the red-croſſe knight had conquer'd the dragon.

To this I ſhall beg leave to ſubjoin another paſſage of the ſame kind; in which he is deſcribing the wedding of Florimel.

After this indirect and comprehenſive manner, Chau⯑cer expreſſes the pomp of Cambuſcan's feaſt.

Thus alſo when lady Cuſtance is married to the Sow⯑dan of Surrie.

In theſe paſſages it is very evident, that Chaucer in⯑tended a burleſque upon the tedious and elaborate de⯑ſcriptions of ſuch unimportant circumſtances, to be met with in books of chivalry. In the laſt verſe the burleſque is very ſtrong. ‘B. i. C. xii. S. xxiv.’ He is ſpeaking of a grand aſſembly, which is held in the hall of the palace of Una's father.

He ſeems to have copied this ſurpriſe, occaſion'd in the hall by the ſudden and unexpected entrance of this meſſenger, (together with ſome of the attending circumſtances) from a ſimilar but more noble ſurpriſe in Chaucer, which happen'd at Cambuſcan's annual birth-day feſtival.

Chaucer in the Aſſemble of fowles.

As a proof of this imitation, it may be obſerv'd, that Spenſer has not only here borrow'd ſome of Chaucer's thoughts, but ſome of his words. He might, never⯑theleſs, have ſome paſſages from the ^† claſſics in his eye, cited by Mr. Jortin.^*

‘B. iii. C. ii. S. xix.’The poet, among other rare qualities of Merlin's wondrous mirrour, mentions the following,

And afterwards, St. 21.

[108] From whence it is plain, that Spenſer drew the idea of this mirrour, from that which is preſented by the ſtrange knight to Cambuſcan, in Chaucer.

Spenſer likewiſe feigns, that his mirror was of ſervice in the purpoſes of love, and as ſuch it is conſulted by Britomartis, but upon an occaſion different from that which is here mention'd by Chaucer. She looks in it to diſcover, who was deſtin'd to be her huſband.

As the uſes of this mirror were of ſo important a na⯑ture, Spenſer ought not to have firſt mention'd it to us by that light appellation, Venus' looking glaſs; where he is ſpeaking of Britomart's love for Arthegall,

Which ſeem to reſemble theſe of Chaucer. He is ſpeaking of Cupid.

The thought of the heart being wounded thro' the eye occurs again in Chaucer.

[110] Thus alſo Palamon ſpeaks, after he had ſeen Emely.

The thought likewiſe occurrs again, in our poet's Hymne in honour of Beautie.

The Squiers tale of Chaucer being imperfect, ^* our poet thus introduces his ſtory of the battle of the three brethren for Canace; which he builds upon the fol⯑lowing hint of Chaucer.

But with theſe lines the ſtory breaks off.

Mr. Upton ^* calls this addition of Spenſer to Chaucer's fragment a completion of the ſquier's tale; but it is certainly nothing more than a completion of one part or diviſion of Chaucer's poem; for, beſides what Chaucer propos'd to ſpeak of in the verſes above-quoted concerning the conteſt for Canace, he intended likewiſe to tell us,

Alſo,

It is no leſs amuſing to the imagination to bewilder itſelf in various conjectures concerning the expedients [112] by which the particular events here hinted at were ſe⯑verally brought about, and to wander into a romantic diſquiſition concerning the miracles wrought by the means of this wonderful ſteed, than it is matter of concern, to reflect, that Chaucer's deſcription of them is utterly loſt; eſpecially as we may reaſonably con⯑clude, from the remaining parts of this tale, that thoſe which are periſh'd, muſt have diſcover'd no leſs ſtriking efforts of the imagination. It appears, that Milton was particularly fond of this poem, and that he was not a little deſirous of knowing the end of a ſtory which promis'd ſo many beauties; in his Il Pen⯑ſeroſo, he invokes Melancholy to

But for what reaſon are we to ſuppoſe that he deſir'd him to be CALL'D UP? Was it not for this reaſon, that he might tell that part of the HALF-TOLD tale which re⯑main'd untold? as before he requeſts that Orpheus might be rais'd, to ſing

ſo he does not deſire that Chaucer ſhould be called up for nothing; but that this author of the imperfect tale of Cambuſcan ſhould likewiſe tell

circumſtances and events, which are not in the half-told ſtory which Chaucer hath left us, but which are only propos'd to be told in the verſes above cited, and are the ſubject of the ſequel.^*

[114]I cannot omit this opportunity of lamenting, with equal regret, the loſs of great part of a noble old Scottiſh poem, entitled, HARDYKNUTE; which exhibits a ſtriking repreſentation of our antient mar⯑tial manners, that prevail'd before the conveniency and civilities of refin'd life had yet render'd all men faſhionably uniform; and lull'd them into that tran⯑quill ſecurity, which naturally excludes all thoſe ha⯑zardous incidents, and glorious dangers, ſo ſuitable to the character and genius of the heroic muſe.

Thus Chaucer.

Theſe verſes are a diſtant imitation of Chaucer. They are more immediately an imitation of himſelf in the Eclogues.

[116] which are apparently an immediate imitation of theſe in Chaucer.

The word heard-groomes occurs again,

Afterwards, ſpeaking of her face. St. 6.

The laſt-quoted ſtanza is no obſcure hint, that our poet had been conſulting Chaucer's Aſſembly of fowles for this deſcription of NATURE. But Spenſer has given many new and delicate touches to Chaucer's rough ſketch, as will appear upon compariſon.

Chaucer thus repreſents Cupid.

But the antients have left us no authority for ſuch a repreſentation of Cupid. Our author, St. 34. above, gives him a green veſt.

[119] Which is equally unwarrantable. Though Catullus has given him a yellow veſt.

Where Scaliger remarks, that Sappho attributes a purple veſt to this deity.

In deſcribing theſe figures, Spenſer ſeems to have re⯑member'd ſome circumſtances in Chaucer's picture of Janus, or January.

I ſhall now lay before the reader ſome inſtances of phraſes and words, which Spenſer has adopted from Chaucer.

We have no reaſon to imagine, that Spenſer here arbitrarily uſes Mart inſtead of Mars, for the conve⯑nience of rhyme, ſince he had the authority of Chau⯑cer for it.

Again,

We find it likewiſe in other places. Chaucer ſome⯑times uſes MART for war.

So Chaucer.

Again,

[121] The ſame metaphor occurrs more than once again in our author.

Darraine is often uſed by Chaucer.

The word ſeems to be de deriv'd from the French ar⯑ranger; ſo that to darraine battle is, to ſet the battle in array. Our poet has uſed arrang'd (from arranger) and applied it to battle more than once.

Chaucer, in another place, uſes darraine in a ſenſe not agreeable to its genuine ſignification.

Where it ſhould imply, TO DETERMINE. This word being a Chauceriſm, our author has very remarkably affected the uſe of it, viz.

We have here an inſtance in which the word is uſed in a more vague ſenſe,

But we are told, in the gloſſary to Chaucer, (Urry's edit.) that this word, among other ſenſes, ſignifies, to dare, to attempt. Thus, by a gradual detortion, and by an imperceptible progreſſion from one kindred ſenſe to another, a word, at length, attains a meaning en⯑tirely foreign to its original etymology.

Spenſer's frequent uſe of DARRAINE ſeems to have ſomewhat familiaris'd it in Queen Elizabeth's age. We meet with it in Shakeſpere, who probably drew it from our author.

Spenſer thus affectedly ſpells the participle glittering, in imitation of Chaucer. So in the Plowman's tale,

And in the ſame poem.

[124] Glitterand is very frequently uſed by our author.

We meet with it likewiſe in the Eclogues.

Many of Chaucer's active participles are thus termi⯑nated, viz. ſittande, ſmertande, laughande, &c. for ſitting, ſmarting, laughing. We meet with this ter⯑mination of the active participle very frequently in the antient Scotch poets.

Chaucer,

The inſtances of this expreſſion are innumerable, both in Chaucer, and in our author.

[125] That is, to pierce him to the quick. The word is frequently uſed, in the ſenſe, to pierce or wound, in Chaucer.

Speaking of a ſword, afterwards,

Alſo,

Nor are inſtances of this word leſs frequent in Spenſer, viz.

A ſtroke,

A dart,

i. e. into his ſhield.

And we find another inſtance of biting near, for piercing to the quick:

[127] And in this manner we find it uſed by Shakeſpere,

That is, he had ſearch'd the matter to the bottom. This form is founded upon an old proverb in Chau⯑cer,

So Chaucer,

HARO is a form of exclamation antiently uſed in Normandy, to call for help, or to raiſe the Hue and Cry.^(*) We find it again in our author,

Again,

[128] It occurs often in Chaucer, and is, I think, always uſed as an exclamation of GRIEF; but there are ſome paſſages in an old MYSTERY printed at Paris, 1541, where it is applied as a term of ALARM, according to its original uſage. Lucifer is introduced ſummoning the devils.

And in another place, where he particularly addreſſes Belial.

It is obſervable, that the permiſſion of the CLAMEUR DE HARO is to this day ſpecified, amongſt that of other officers, in the inſtrument of Licence prefix'd to books printed in France.

Spenſer here, when he might have uſed conteſt, chuſes rather Chaucer's obſolete term CONTECK. Thus in the Knight's tale,

[129] Again,

Our poet had us'd it before in the Eclogues.

So likewiſe,

We find FORPYNED ghoſt in Chaucer, which is the ſame as PYNED ghoſt.

Theſe introductions give authority to a fictitious ſtory. Thus the tale of Canace is uſher'd in,

And in another place he refers to hiſtory for a ſanc⯑tion to his invention,

Chaucer frequently makes uſe of theſe forms. He thus begins the Knight's tale.

And again, in the ſame tale.

And afterwards,

The giant OLLYPHANT here mentioned, is probably that which Sir Thopas meets, in his expedition to the land of Fairy.

So Chaucer.

Many a jane, that is, much money. Skinner in⯑forms us, that JANE is a coin of Genoa; and Speght Gl. to Chaucer, interprets JANE, half-pence of Janua, or galy half-pence. Chaucer ſometimes uſes it as a coin of little value. As,

And in other places.

Chaucer often applies this introductory form in his Canterbury tales. Thus too the old poem of Sir Be⯑vis of South-hampton begins.

So Chaucer.

And in the ſame poem,

Our author again expreſſes himſelf in the ſame man⯑ner, ſpeaking of a robe.

Alſo,

This mention of golden hair puts me in mind of a correction which Mr. Upton has made in the follow⯑ing verſe of Chaucer.

Mr. ^(†) Upton thinks that here is a tranſpoſition oc⯑caſion'd by the tranſcriber's haſte, and that we ſhould apply gilded to threde, and goldin to heris, viz.

The alteration appears at firſt ſight to be very juſt; But it is perhaps unneceſſary if we conſider that gilte or gilded, is often us'd by Chaucer, and applied to hair. Thus,

And in the ſame poem,

We have here gildid hair,

A proverb from Chaucer.

Again,

I do not rembmber that endlong occurs in any poet before Spenſer, Chaucer excepted; nor in any of Spenſer's contemporaries; ſo that probably our author drew it from his favorite bard, viz.

Alſo,

And in other places. Mr. Pope has reviv'd this word with great propriety.

In the gloſſary to Urry's Chaucer we are told that doſeperis is from the French les douze pairs; the twelve peers of France. Some legendary governors of Rome are ſo called in alluſion to thoſe of France, in theſe lines of the Merchant's ſecond tale, or the Hiſtory of Beryn,

And below,

It may be doubted whether or no our author borrow'd this word DOUZEPERE from Chaucer; for Chaucer's tale in which the word occurrs was firſt printed by Mr. Urry, who informs us that he could meet with only one MSS. copy of it.

Spenſer ſeems to have perſonified danger after the ex⯑ample of Chaucer, who has made him a very ſignifi⯑cant character in the Romaunt of the roſe; but I do not remember that any circumſtances in Spenſer's deſcription of him are borrow'd from thence. He is again introduc'd as the guardian of the gate of good deſert in the temple of Venus, 4. 10. 18. and after⯑wards, as an advocate for Dueſſa, 5. 9. 45.

There was an old romance which celebrated the atchievments of Blandamour; which Spenſer might have ſeen. If not, he probably drew the name from this hint of Chaucer,

The compiler of the Gloſſary to Spenſer informs us, that GLODE ſignifies glanc'd, or that it is written, by poetical licence, for glowed. As to the latter of theſe explanations, I do not think, that glow had acquired ſo vague a ſenſe in our author's age; and where is the authority for the former? Spenſer un⯑doubtedly borrow'd it from the following paſſage of Chaucer.

Our author has here plainly borrow'd the thought, as well as the particular word in queſtion, which, however, he has differently applied. May not GLODE be the preter-imperfect tenſe of glide?

[137] So Chaucer,

MOST here ſignifies greateſt; and in the following inſtances; as, MORE implies greater.

That is, I am poſſeſt of the greateſt ſway over the world.

In Sonnet 20.

Again,

In Sonnet 55.

This is the language of Chaucer; viz.

[138] That is, I do not affirm that ſhe had the greateſt ſhare of beauty.

Again,

Thus we have alſo MORE or LESS for greater and ſmaller.

Thus alſo MUCH or LITE is great and ſmall.

And to this day MUCH is prefix'd to ſome villages in England, as a mark of greatneſs. The ingenious au⯑thor of Miſcellaneous Obſervations on Macbeth, re⯑marks, that in the interpolated Mandeville, a book printed in the age of queen Elizabeth, there is a chap⯑ter of India THE MORE AND THE LESS, note 43.

I had almoſt paſt over ſome of the ſubſequent in⯑ſtances.

[139] He probably drew GIAMBEUX, i. e. boots, from this paſſage in the Rime of Sir Thopas.

Checklaton likewiſe occurs in the laſt-mention'd poem of Chaucer.

Speght ^* interprets this word, a ſtuff of checkerwork made of cloth of gold; and Skinner, a ſtuff like motley.

To PRICK is very frequently uſed by Spenſer, as well as by Chaucer, for, to ride; as is MANY for re⯑tinue, multitude, or company. Dryden, in his in⯑imitable Muſic-ode, has thus uſed MANY.

Many alſo is to be found in this ſenſe in Harrington and Shakeſpere.

It ſhould not be omitted, that LAD for led, often occurs in Chaucer, as it does likewiſe in Spenſer, viz. a milk-white lamb ſhe LAD. 1. 1. 4 whom they LAD. 2. 12. 84. a wretched life they LAD. 3. 12. 16. life which afterwards he LAD. 4. 8. 2. to their purpoſe [140] LAD. 5. 12. 37. The virgin LAD. 4. 12. 33. he him LAD. 5. 1. 22. away was LAD. 6. 10. 39.

Our author ſeems to have uſed, never none, for, there never was one, from an affectation of Chaucer's manner; altho' it muſt be confeſs'd, that moſt of our old Engliſh writers frequently join two negatives, when no affirmation is intended. Hickes, after ob⯑ſerving, that a negation is often expreſs'd in the Anglo-Saxonic by two negatives, has theſe words,— ‘Editor Chauceri nihil antiqui ſapiens, dicit ^* ipſum imi⯑tatum fuiſſe Graecos in vehementius negando per DUO NEGATIVA; tametſi Chaucerus (Literarum Graecarum ignarus) more ſui temporis, in quo Saxoniſmus non peni⯑cus exoleverat, DUOBUS NEGATIVIS eſt uſus ^†.’ After which he produces ſome inſtances in the Saxon, where not only two, but three, and four negatives are put together, with a negative ſignification.

It is not pretended, that all the obſolete words and phraſes, to be met in our author, are here ſet down, [141] but thoſe only which carry with them a more certain and undoubted evidence of their being immediately derived from Chaucer. Thus here are ſeveral old old words unnoticed, which appear likewiſe in Chau⯑cer; but which are no more the property of him, than they are of Lidgate, of Gower, and of the au⯑thor of Piers Plowman; ſo that it would be difficult in ſome caſes to aſcertain and mark out the particular ſource from which our author drew; however it is manifeſt that he had the moſt frequent recourſe to, and drew the largeſt draughts from Chaucer,

I cannot diſmiſs this ſection without a wiſh, that this neglected author whom Spenſer propoſed in ſome mea⯑ſure, as the pattern of his language, and to whom he is not a little indebted for many noble ſtrokes of poetry ſhould be more univerſally and attentively ſtudied. Chau⯑cer ſeems to be regarded rather as an old poet, than as a good one, and that he wrote Engliſh verſes four hundred years ago ſeems more frequently to be urged in his commendation, than that he wrote four hun⯑dred years ago with taſte and judgment. We look upon his poems rather as venerable relics, than as finiſh'd patterns; as pieces calculated rather to gratify the antiquarian than the critic. When I ſate down to read Chaucer with the curioſity of knowing how the firſt Engliſh poet wrote, I left him with the ſatisfaction of having found what later and more refin'd ages could hardly equal in true humour, pathos, or ſublimity. It muſt [142] be confeſt that his uncouth or rather unfamiliar lan⯑guage has deterr'd many from peruſing him; but at the ſame time it muſt be allowed, that nothing has more contributed to his being little looked into, than the convenient opportunity of reading him with faci⯑lity in modern imitations. Thus when tranſlation (for ſuch may imitations from Chaucer be call'd) be⯑comes ſubſtituted as the means of attaining the knowledge of any difficult and antient author, the original not only begins to be neglected and excluded as leſs eaſy, but alſo to be deſpiſed as leſs ornamental and elegant. And thus tho' Mr. Pope's tranſlation of Homer is perhaps the beſt that ever was made of any author, yet it has ſo far indulg'd the lazineſs or illi⯑teracy of many readers, as to tempt them to acquieſce in the knowledge of Homer acquir'd by it, as ſuffici⯑ent; and thus many have preferr'd that tranſlation to the Graecian text, in proportion as the former contains more frequent and more ſhining metaphors, more lively deſcriptions, and in general appears to be more full, elaborate, and various.

SECT. VI. Of Spenſer's imitations from Arioſto.

THIS circumſtance of the Red-croſs knight and Una meeting with Archimago diſguiſed like a hermit, who tells them a feign'd tale, and after that raiſes two ſpirits with an intent to deceive the Red⯑croſs [143] Knight, ſeems to be copied from Arioſto, who introduces Angelica meeting with an hypocritical hermit who raiſes a falſe ſpirit with a deſign to de⯑ceive Sacrapant and Renaldo, and to exaſperate them againſt Orlando, &c.

But Spenſer has greatly improv'd the hint. Archi⯑mago is again introduc'd after the ſame manner, B. i. C. vi. S. xxxiv. and B. ii. C. i. S. viii.

This illuſion effected by Archimago, who diſcovers a fictitious Una to the Red-croſs Knight in the em⯑braces of a young 'ſquire, ſeems to be imitated from the deceptions carried on in the enchanted caſtle of Atlanta, where many of the gueſts are impos'd upon by falſe repreſentations of the perſons of their friends or miſtreſſes; and more particularly from that paſſage where Orlando, after having been cheated with the appearance of a fictitious Angelica, is made to hear her cry out for his aſſiſtance, as if ſome villain was raviſhing her, &c.

This is the ſhield of Atlanta.

This horne, with its miraculous effects, is borrow'd from that which Logeſtylla preſents to Aſtolfo.

[146] I wonder Spenſer ſhould have made ſo little uſe of this horn. He has not ſcrupled to introduce the ſhield above-mentioned (tho' as manifeſtly borrow'd from Arioſto) upon various occaſions.

Dueſſa who before appear'd young and beautiful, ſtript of her rich apparel is diſcover'd to be a lothſom old woman. She is a copy of Arioſto's Alcina, who after having long engaged the affections of Rogero by her youth and beauty, is at laſt, by the virtue of his ring, diſcovered to be old and ugly. Theſe cir⯑cumſtances of Dueſſa's diſcovery are literally drawn from Arioſto.

This tale, is borrow'd from the tale of Geneura in Orlando Furioſo, C. iv. S. l. &c.

The difficulty which prince Arthur finds in killing Maleger, ſeems to be copied from the encounter of Griffin and Aquilant with Orillo, who (like Maleger) re⯑ceives no hurt from all the wounds that are given him: And the circumſtances by which Maleger's death is effected, partake much of the fantaſtic extravagance of thoſe by which Orillo is at laſt kill'd. See Or⯑lando Fur. C. xv. S. lxvii. &c. &c.

This enchanted ſpear of Britomartis is the lame d'oro which Aſtolfo preſents to Bradamante.

Spenſer ſometimes calls it Goldelaunce.

This introduction in praiſe of women, ſeems to be enlarg'd from that of Arioſto to C. 20.

And, B. 3. C. 2. S. 1. he touches upon the ſame argument again.

Where he ſeems to copy the cloſe of the above intro⯑duction of Arioſto.

Merlin here diſcovers to Britomart her future pro⯑geny; which he does likewiſe to Bradamante in Arioſto. C. 3.

The tale of the ſquire of Dames is a copy of the Hoſts tale in Arioſto. c. 28.

Malbecco mixes with the flock of goats, and paſſes for one. He might have here the eſcape of Ulyſſes from Polypheme in his eye; but more immediately, perhaps, the like expedient made uſe of by Norandin, who mixes among the goats, as a goat, that he may gain acceſs to Lucina. C. 17. S. 35. &c. Norandin, indeed, is dreſt up in goat-ſkins, but Malbecco's ſimilitude is made out by his horns, which he wears as a cuckold; a fiction, the meanneſs of which nothing but the beau⯑tiful transformation, at the end of the Canto, could have made amends for.

Marſifa thus diſcovers herſelf,

A few ſtanzas above ſhe is compar'd to Bellona;

So our author, St. 14.

See a like diſcovery, B. 3. C. 9. S. 20, 21. Spenſer's Britomart is a manifeſt copy of Arioſto's Bradamante and Marſiſa.

Sir Ferraugh is one of Arioſto's knights.

That famous Tuſcan pen Arioſto deſcribes two foun⯑tains in Ardenna, from one of which Renaldo drinks, and from the other Angelica.

By Spenſer's account of this WATER of ARDENNE it might be concluded that Rinaldo drank of that fountain which turn'd love into hate; but it appears from this [153] paſſage in Arioſto, that he drank of that fountain which produc'd the contrary effect. However it is manifeſt, that our author alludes to another place in Arioſto, where Renaldo drinks of that fountain which produc'd the effect here deſcrib'd by Spenſer. C. 42. S. 63.

Thus the pagan in Arioſto 29. 35. keeps a bridge, which no man can paſs over unleſs he fight with him; and which occaſions many combats in the water, one of which ſort is here deſcrib'd between Sir Arthe⯑gall and the Saracen, S. 11.

In MORTE ARTHUR we find an account of a knight who kept a bridge^*, in which a circumſtance is men⯑tion'd, (not in Arioſto) which Spenſer ſeems to have copied from thence, in the paſſage under conſidera⯑tion. ‘"On the third day he rode over a long bridge; and there ſtart upon him ſodainly a paſſing fowle chorle, and he ſmote his horſe, and aſked him why he rode over that bridge without his licence."’ [154] So Spenſer,

The name of his horſe. Brigliadoro is the name of Orlando's horſe: From Briglia d' oro, a golden bridle. ‘B. v. C. ix. S. xi.’He is deſcribing GUILE.

This net ſeems to be borrow'd from the like expe⯑dient made uſe of by Caligorant.

The diſtreſs of Paſtorella is ſomething ſimilar to that of Iſabel, who is ſeiz'd by certain outlaws or pirates, and impriſon'd in a cave in order to be ſold for a ſlave. C. 12. S. 91. &c.

It has been before remark'd, that Spenſer in his BLATANT BEAST had ſome reference to the ſtory of the queſting beaſt mention'd in the romance of MORTE ARTHUR. Yet, notwithſtanding, I am apt to think, that Spenſer in repreſenting ſcandal under the ſhape of a monſtrous and unnatural beaſt, imitated, or ra⯑ther vyed with Arioſto, who has repreſented avarice and jealouſy under the picture of two hideous beaſts; the firſt of which, like the BLATANT BEAST attacks all eſtates alike, enters the palace as well the cottage, but vents his rage in a more particular manner againſt the clergy, ſparing not even the pope himſelf. She is at laſt ſuppoſed to be bound by Leo the tenth, as Jealouſy is ſuppoſed to be driven to her den by Renaldo. It is not improbable, that Arioſto, in adumbrating theſe violent paſſions under the figure of beaſts, form'd of many unnatural combinations, might have an eye to the beaſt in the REVELA⯑TIONS, which ‘"roſe out of the ſea, having ſeven heads, and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blaſphemy; and [156] the beaſt which I ſaw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion."^*’ See F. Q. 6, 12, 23, &c. and Orl. Furioſ. c. 26. S. 27. and c. 42. S. 44, &c.

The reader will excuſe my adding, in this place, a paſſage which Spenſer has drawn from his favorite Italian poet, in the Mourning Muſe of Theſtylis.

Though it muſt be confeſs'd that Spenſer's verſes bear a ſtronger reſemblance to theſe of Nic. Archias, of a Lady weeping.

I had almoſt forget to take notice, that our author, in his Radegunde with her city of females, probably had an eye upon Arioſto's land of Amazons.

But although Spenſer appears to have imitated, and conſequently to have admir'd Arioſto, from a ſurvey of the preceding inſtances; and to have been ambi⯑tious of rivalling the Orlando Furioſo, in compoſing a poem upon a kindred and ſimilar plan; yet it may be affirmed, that they were both of a genius entirely different. Spenſer, amidſt all his abſurdities, abounds with beautiful and ſublime repreſentations; while A⯑rioſto's ſtrokes of true poetry bear a very ſignal diſ⯑proportion, in their number, to his ſallies of roman⯑tic imagination: he gives us the groteſque for the graceful, and extravagance for majeſty: he frequent⯑ly moves our laughter and ſurpriſe by the whimſical figures of a Callot, but ſeldom awakens our admira⯑tion by the juſt portraits of a Raphael. To confeſs the truth, Arioſto's vein is ſo far different from Spen⯑ſer's, that it is abſolutely comic, and infinitely better ſuited to ſcenes of humour, than to ſerious and ſo⯑lemn deſcription; he ſo greatly excels in painting the familiar manners, that what are call'd his tales, are, by far, the moſt ſhining paſſages in his poem. Many of [158] his ſimiles are likewiſe the ſtrongeſt indications of his turn for burleſque.^*

But if there ſhould be any readers, who, from ſome of the fictions in Orlando, would prove that its author was poſſeſs'd of an extenſive and magnifi⯑cent invention, let them remember, that theſe are commonly borrow'd from romances, and adapted occaſionally by the poet to the tenor of his allegory; and if it ſhould be granted, that ſome, or the greateſt part of theſe were deriv'd from his own fancy, yet theſe, as they ſo enormouſly tranſgreſs the bounds of nature and probability, ought by no means to be ad⯑mitted as genuine marks of the TRUE POET.

SECT. VII. Of Spenſer's Inaccuracies.

FEW poets will appear to have written with greater rapidity than Spenſer. Hurried on by the vehe⯑mence of imagination he frequently cannot find time to attend to the niceties of conſtruction, or to ſtand ſtill and reviſe what he has before written, in order to prevent contradiction, inconſiſtency, or repetition. Hence it is, that he not only fails in the connection of ſingle words, but of circumſtances, and not only violates the rules of grammar, but thoſe of truth, probability and propriety. He was more ſollicitous about giving bold than exact touches to his figures, and was ſo earneſtly intent of forming what was great, that he forgot to produce that which was correct. So that if, with theſe inaccuracies, we conſider the irregu⯑larity of Spenſer's plan in general, we may venture to conclude, that no poet ever ſhewed more imagi⯑gination with leſs judgement, than the author of the FAERIE QUEENE. It may be looked upon as a very officious piece of ill-nature to draw together theſe in⯑ferior and ſubordinate faults, and

But a review of them will tend to explain many paſ⯑ſages in particular in our author, and to bring us ac⯑quainted with his manner in general.

[160]I ſhall begin with his Elleipſes, in which the rea⯑der will find his omiſſion of the Relative to be fre⯑quent.

He ſhould have ſaid a greedy wolf WHO thro' hunger fell.

That is, into WHOSE hand he gave all.

Some ſuch word as WHILE is to be underſtood before the roring billowes, &c.

He ſhould have ſaid, and to WHICH IT ſhews the way.

No ſhadow, but WHICH a body, &c.

And afterwards,

[162] So again,

That is, the WEAPON glaunct, &c.

That is, HE ſenſeleſſe ſtood.

But certes HE was, &c.

He ſhould have ſaid, and FOR WHOM he ſuffred, &c.

That could have daz'd, i. e. That WHICH, &c. THAT put for that which occurs in other places, [163] and may miſlead a reader not acquainted with Spen⯑ſer's manner.

Thus again,

He ſhould not have omitted WHICH in the laſt verſe, and WHICH round about her, &c.

That is, widows TO ayde.

Ne durſt THEY approche him nigh, &c.

SHE ſhould have been inſerted before brayes out, &c.

He means, and HE was for, &c.

That is, ſtill called upon HIM to, &c.

To Bragadocchio HE did, &c.

That is, HE ran, &c.

For IT ſeemed, &c. So St. 32.

That is, IT draweth. [165] So again,

For, ſo eaſy IT was, &c.

As for looſe loves THEY are vaine, &c.^*

[166]I ſhall now produce ſome inſtances of his con⯑fuſed conſtruction.

After having told us, that ſeeing the Lyon ſtand by her, ſhe fled away for fear, he adds, that this was becauſe he never had ſeen a lady before, which cer⯑tainly was no reaſon why ſhe ſhould fly from the lyon. What our author intended to expreſs here, was, that ‘"at ſeeing the lyon, and ſo beautiful a lady, an object never ſeen before in that country, ſhe was affrighted, and fled."’

Of which he weend ſoone to bee poſſeſſed, is not improper; but, to be poſſeſſed with rich ſpoile, &c. is very inac⯑curate. Here ſeems to be likewiſe ſomewhat of an elleipſis, and I think he ſhould have ſaid, rich ſpoile of ITS ranſackt chaſtitie.

[168]The poet ſays, that his office was to relieve PRI⯑SONERS, and to redeem CAPTIVES with money from Turkiſh ſlavery; who though guilty of crimes, yet he conſider'd that God every hour pardons crimes much greater than thoſe for which they were impri⯑ſon'd.—By this it ſhould ſeem, that thoſe enſlav'd by the Turks were guilty of crimes, &c. but the poet would ſignify by they faultie were, the priſoners firſt mention'd, who were deſervedly impriſon'd on account of their crimes.

Another inſtance of our author's inaccuracy, is, his tautology, or repetition of the ſame circumſtances.

The difficulty of numbering the deities preſent at the marriage of Thames and Medway, he expreſſes in the ſame manner, in the ſtanza immediately preceding.

All this we were told a few lines before.

To this head we may refer the redundancies of a word.

[170] SHE is unneceſſary in the laſt line, as FAIRE VENUS is the nominative caſe. Other inſtances of this fault might be produced.

I ſhall now cite ſome inſtances in which he contra⯑dicts himſelf, and runs into other abſurdities, on ac⯑count of his forgetting, or not reviewing what he had before written, and, in general, from an haſty manner of compoſition. ‘B. i. C. iv. S. viii.’Speaking of Pride, he ſays, ſhe

And in the following ſtanza he compares her to Phae⯑ton, where he ſays, ſhe

This is a very ſtriking Anti-climax.

Here he tells us, that the tree of knowledge occa⯑caſion'd the fall of man; in the ſtanza before, he af⯑firms the ſame of the tree of life.

In theſe ſtanzas Sir Guyon ſuddenly abaſes his ſpear, and begs pardon of the red-croſſe knight, for having attack'd him; as if he had juſt now diſcover'd him to be the red-croſſe knight: whereas he knew him to be ſo, St. 19. and after that reſolves to fight with him. ‘B. iv. C. v. S. xxxvii.’Speaking of CARE,

If CARE was ſo monſtrous a giant, how could he dwell, with his ſix ſervants, in the little cottage above-mention'd?

The aged dame Glauce might have eaſily pacified Sir Scudamore, in this place, by telling him, that Bri⯑tomartis was a woman; and as ſhe was ſo much ter⯑rified, it was highly natural, that ſhe ſhould aſſure him [172] of it; tho' this would have prevented an entertaining ſurpriſe, which the poet reſerv'd for. 4. 6. 28.

Arthur and Una have been hitherto repreſented as entire ſtrangers to each other; and it does not appear how Una became acquainted with the name of this new knight.

It is unnatural, that the red-croſſe knight ſhould be ſo ſuddenly reconcil'd to Una, after he had forſaken her for her ſuppoſed infidelity and impurity. The poet ſhould certainly have expreſs'd an eclairciſſe⯑ment between them.

It was an inſtance of Sir Calidore's courage, to re⯑ſtore to Coridon his flocks; but not of his courteſie, to carry away his love Paſtorella. The poet ſhould have manag'd the character of his PATRON OF COUR⯑TESIE with more art.

As Spenſer has drawn the character of his hero prince Arthur from hiſtory, he has limited himſelf to a particular period of time, in which all the events of his poem, however fictitious or imaginary, are ſup⯑poſed to have happen'd: upon this account all diſco⯑veries made ſince that particular period of time, are [173] improperly ſpecified; and the mention of them may be juſtly term'd an anachroniſm. Our author has been guilty of one or two faults of this kind, which we ſhall lay before the reader.

Spenſer ſhould have ſpar'd this circumſtance of fire-arms. Arioſto was more cautious in this matter; for tho' he has ſuppos'd the uſe of them upon a par⯑ticular occaſion in the age of Charlemagne; yet, not⯑withſtanding, he hints, that they were ſoon after⯑wards deſtroy'd, and that the uſe of them was not re⯑viv'd till many years after; and as the invention, ſo the revival of them is attributed to the devil. C. 11. S. 22. It has been obſerv'd, that Milton copied the invention of fire-arms from Arioſto; and it may fur⯑ther be obſerv'd, that Milton, in the ſpeech which one of the evil angels makes upon them,

has copied from himſelf, in one of his latin epigrams.^*

[175] Chaucer in his account of the battle of Anthony and Cleopatra with Octavius, mentions guns.

[176] It would be difficult to prove that a manufacture of green cloth ſubſiſted at Lincoln in the age of king Arthur; and indeed if it could, we ſhould not readily diſpenſe with the poet's mention of it. [177] To theſe may be added ſome of his ambiguities.

[178]The poet ſhould not have us'd Tartary here for Tartarus, as the reader might miſtake it for the [179] country of that name. He has committed the ſame fault in Virgil's Gnat.

By MUNIFICENCE our author ſignifies defence or for⯑tification; from munio and facio. This is a word very injudiciouſly coin'd by Spenſer, as the ſame word in our language ſignifies quite another thing. Milton perhaps is more blameable for a fault of this kind.

As the ambiguous term pontifical may be ſo eaſily conſtrued into a pun, and may be interpreted popiſh, as well as bridge-making.

crafty ſpyes is here a periphraſis for eyes, but a very inartificial one; as it may ſo eaſily be miſtaken for two perſons whom ſhe employ'd, with herſelf, to ſearch, &c.

SECT. VIII. Of Spenſer's imitations of himſelf.

COmmentators of leſs taſte than learning, of leſs judgment than oſtentation, have taken infinite pains to point out thoſe paſſages which their reſpective authors have imitated from others.^* This enquiry is executed with a modeſt reſerve, and extended no far⯑ther than to thoſe paſſages which are diſtinguiſh'd with more indubitable evidences of tranſcription or imitation, might (it ſhould ſeem) prove equally inſtructive and entertaining: as it would the better enable us to regu⯑late our idea of the merit and character of an author, by aſcertaining what degree of genuine invention is to be allow'd him, and by ſhewing how far he has im⯑prov'd the materials of another by his own art and man⯑ner of application; at the ſame time that it muſt ne⯑ceſſarily gratify the inquiſitive diſpoſition of every reader. But where there are even the moſt apparent traces of likeneſs, how very ſeldom can it be affirm'd, with any truth, as a late very ſagacious critic ^† has amply prov'd, that an imitation was intended? and how few of the commentators above-mention'd are there, who do not (to uſe his own words) miſtake RESEM⯑BLANCES [181] for THEFTS?^* As this then is a buſineſs which proceeds upon an uncertain foundation, afford⯑ing the amuſement of conjecture rather than the ſatis⯑faction of truth; it may perhaps be a more ſerviceable undertaking, to produce an author's IMITATIONS OF HIMSELF: and this will be more particularly uſeful in the three following reſpects, viz. It will diſcover the FAVORITE IMAGES of an author; it will teach us how VARIOUSLY he expreſſes the ſame thought; and it will often EXPLAIN DIFFICULT paſſages, and words.

Again,

And in the following, ſpeaking of Cupid in the garden of Adonis,

Thus again,

‘B. i. C. viii. S. xxix.’Prince Arthur enters Orgoglio's caſtle.

This affecting image of ſilence and ſolitude is again to be met with, after Britomart had ſurvey'd the rich furniture of Buſirane's houſe.

Thus in an HYMNE of heavenly love; of angels,

The image of the angels ſinging in their trinall tri⯑plicities, puts me in mind of a paſſage in Milton's LYCIDAS, where the pointing ſeems to be wrong.

According to the preſent pointing, the ſenſe is, ‘"The ſaints who are in ſolemn troops, and ſweet ſocieties, entertain him;"’ or, entertain him in [among] their ſolemn troops, and ſweet ſocieties: but if the comma was ſtruck off after Societies, another and more beautiful meaning would be introduced, viz. ‘"The ſaints who SING IN ſolemn troops and ſweet ſocieties, entertain him, &c."’ ‘B. ii. C. iii. S. xxiv.’Of Belphaebe ſpeaking,

Thus in Sonnet 81.

[184] Arioſto gives us pearls and corall for the lips and teeth.

In Sonnet 40.

And in a verſe of his ^† PAGEANTS preſerv'd by E. K.^*

[185] Which he drew from a modern Greek poem aſcrib'd to Muſaeus,

In the Hymn of heavenly love we find a thouſand graces.

Our author, in the FAERIE QUEENE, has alſo co⯑pied from the ſame poem aſcrib'd to Muſaeus. Scu⯑damore, in the Temple of Venus, is much in the ſame circumſtances with Leander.

And afterwards,

WOOMANHOOD rebukes Scudamore for this inſult, whom Scudamore anſwers,

In the ſame manner Hero rebukes, and Leander anſwers.

Leander anſwers,

But, to return to the ſubject.

Thus in the Epithalamion.

[188]It is remarkable, that Spenſer's females, both in the FAERIE QUEENE, and in his other poems, are all deſcrib'd with yellow hair. And in his general de⯑ſcription of the influence of beauty over the ſtrongeſt men, he particularizes golden treſſes.

Whether this was done in compliment to Q. Elizabeth, who had yellow hair, or in imitation of the Italian poets, who give moſt of their women treſſes of this colour, I leave to the determination of the reader. ‘B. iii. C. i. S. xxxvi.’Speaking of Venus, while Adonis was bathing.

Thus in the Prothalamion.

[189] To theſe we may add,

The circumſtance of throwing flowers into the water, is not unlike what Milton ſays of Sabrina's ſtream.

Statius introduces Love and the Graces ſprinkling Stella and Violantilla, on their wedding-night, with flowers and odours.

And in another place he ſpeaks of Venus pouring the fragrance of Amomum over Earinus in great abundance; a circumſtance not much unlike that juſt mention'd concerning Venus and Adonis.

‘B. iii. C. vii. S. xvi.’ Of the witches ſon, who falls in love with Florimel.

Such preſents as theſe are made by Coridon to Paſtorell.

Spenſer often expreſſes fear, or ſurprize, in this manner,

From the paſſages already alleged, and from ſome ſome others which I ſhall produce, it will appear, that Spenſer particularly excells in painting affright, confuſion, and aſtoniſhment.

The behaviour of Abeſſa and Corecca, when Kirkra⯑pine was torn in pieces by the Lion.

DESPAIRE has juſt perſuaded the red-croſſe knight to kill himſelf. 1. 9. 48.

It is a trite obſervation, that we paint that beſt, which we have felt moſt. Spenſer's whole life ſeems to have conſiſted of diſappointments and diſtreſs; ſo that he, probably, was not unacquainted with the bitter agonies of a deſpairing mind, which the warmth of his imagina⯑tion, and, what was its conſequence, his ſenſibility of temper contributed to render doubly ſevere. Unmerit⯑ed and unpitied indigence ever ſtruggles hardeſt with [194] true genius; and a good taſte, for the ſame reaſons that it enhances the pleaſures of life, ſuſtains with uncom⯑mon torture the miſeries of that ſtate, ‘"in which (ſays an incomparable moraliſt) every virtue is obſcured, and in which no conduct can avoid reproach; a ſtate in which chearfulneſs is inſenſibility, and dejection fullenneſs, of which the hardſhips are without ho⯑nour, and the labours without reward."’ To theſe may be added his perſonage FEAR.

Again,

A prieſt of Iſis after having heard the dream of Britomart.

Other inſtances of this ſort might be cited; but theſe are the moſt ſtriking.

It is proper to remark, in this place, that Spenſer has given three large deſcriptions, much of the ſame nature, viz. The Bower of Bliſs, 2. 12. The Gardens of Adonis, 3. 5. And the Gardens of the Temple of Venus, 4. 10. all which, though, in general, the ſame, his invention has diverſified with many new circumſtances; as it has likewiſe his Mornings: and perhaps we meet with no poet who has more re⯑quently, or more minutely, at the ſame time, de⯑lineated the Morning, than Spenſer. He has intro⯑duced two hiſtorical genealogies of future kings and princes of England, 3. 3. and, 2. 10. beſide two or three other ſhorter ſketches of Engliſh hiſtory. He often repeatedly introduces his allegorical figures, which he ſometimes deſcribes with very little variation from his firſt repreſentation; particularly, DISDAIN, FEAR, ENVY, and DANGER. In this poem we like⯑wiſe meet with two hells, 1. 5. 31. and 2. 7. 21.

It may not be foreign to the purpoſe of this Section, to lay before the reader ſome uncommon words and expreſſions, of which Spenſer, by his frequent uſe, ſeems particularly fond.

[196]Spenſer often uſes the verb PLAY, in this ſenſe, with an accuſative caſe.

And in an Hymne of Love.

To theſe we may add,

We find PLAY uſed after this manner in Milton.

[197]Spenſer often arbitrarily prefixes MIS to a word, viz. misfeigning, 1. 3. 40. miſdiet, 1. 4. 23. miſ⯑aymed, 1. 8. 8. miſborne, 1. 5. 42. miſdoubted, 4. 2. 23. miſchallenge, 4. 3. 11. miſconceit, and miſ⯑fare, 4. 6. 2. miſregard, 4. 8. 29. miſthought, 4. 8. 58. miſtrained, 5. 11. 54. misfell, 5. 5. 10. miſ⯑doubtfull, 5. 6. 3. miſdight, 5, 7. 37. miſdeſert, 6. 1. 12. miſgotten, 6. 1. 18. miſcreated, 2. 7. 42. I have been the more prolix in collecting theſe inſtances, in order to juſtify a very happy conjecture of Mr. Jortin^*, without which it will be difficult to make ſenſe of a paſſage in our author, viz.

Mr. Jortin propoſes to read MISMADE, i. e. ill-ſhaped; an alteration which we cannot reject, when we conſi⯑der the liberties Spenſer took in adding MIS to a word. He probably ſent it to the preſs miſmayd, that it might rhyme more exactly (and that Spenſer was very exact in this point, I have before endeavour'd to prove) with aſſayd, and arrayd; but the compoſitors were better acquainted with diſmayd, which they according⯑ly adopted.

So,

[a wound]

And of DANGER,

The ſteeds of Night are thus deſcrib'd,

The word RUSTIE ſeems to have convey'd the idea of ſomewhat very loathſome and horrible to our au⯑thor. In Virgil's Gnat he applies it to horror.

I will hence take occaſion to correct a paſſage in Chaucer, in the character of the Reve.

I do not perceive the conſiſtency of the Reves wear⯑ing a ruſtie ſword; I ſhould rather be inclin'd to think that the poet wrote truſtie blade.

[199] Spenſer frequently uſes GRIDE, which ſignifies to pierce. This word, as E. K. remarks in the Paſtoral of Fe⯑bruarie, is often uſed by Lidgate, but never once by Chaucer. Spenſer was very well verſed in all our an⯑tient Engliſh bards, but I do not remember that he pays a compliment to any of them, Chaucer excepted^(*), and the ^† author of Pierce Plowman. GRIDE is found in the following paſſages.

And again, in F. Q.

Milton probably adopted this old word from our author.

^(*) Mr. Jortin informs us, that STIE ſignifies to ſoar, to aſcend; ſo that the ſenſe of the verſe before us, is, ‘"that was ambition, which is a raſh deſire of ſtill aſcending upwards."’ STIE occurs again often.

^** This word occurs in Chaucer's Teſtament of Love. ‘"Ne ſteyrs to STEY one is none."^(†)’ Where it is [201] uſed actively, ‘"to lift one up."’ Gower has uſed this word in the preter-imperfect tenſe, but neutrally.

INNE for Habitation, Seat, or Receſs, is much uſed by Spenſer. In his age this word had not acquir'd the vulgar caſt which it would carry with it in modern poeſy. The bowre of bliſſe,

INNHOLDERS is likewiſe uſed for inhabitants.

[202] That is, driven by an error ordain'd by the fates. Again,

That is, that ſame decree of the Fates.

That is, her date aſſigned by the Fates.

That is, ſome end which the Fates intend to ac⯑compliſh. ‘3. 3. 14.’FATALIS has ſometimes the ſame ſignification as Spenſer's FATAL. So Virgil,

PREST is very frequently uſed by Spenſer; in ſome places it ſignifies ready or quick; in others it ſeems to be uſed adverbially, for quickly, immediately. It is plainly the old French word, Preſte, quick, or nimble, which ſometimes is uſed adverbially. Mr. Jortin de⯑rives it from praeſto adeſſe.

That is, inſtant or preſent vengeance.

That is, readie quickly.

That is, ſix ready, or nimble, ſervants; or perhaps, preſent.

That is, His foe was very near him behind.

That is, be ſoone ready to fight with her.

That is, ready and preſent, ready at hand.

That is, with his weapons ready, prepar'd. It is us'd in many of theſe ſenſes by Chaucer.

That is, with nimble or ready wings.

That is, ſo ready to ſpeak, &c.

That is, that was not preſent before her.

This word is to be met with in moſt of our old Engliſh poets, particularly Lord Surrey, Wyat, Tuberville, &c. Harrington much uſes it in his Arioſto.

SORT occurs perpetually in Spenſer, for flock, troop, company, &c.

That is, a ſwarm.

That is, a flock.

That is, a great number, a large aſſembly of, &c.

That is, a company of ſhepherds.

That is, a company of ſhepherds hunting.

It is not unfrequent in Harrington. We find it in the Pſalms, where few perhaps aſſign the proper meaning to it. ‘"How long will ye imagine miſchief againſt every man? Ye ſhall be ſlain all the SORT of you."^†’ i. e. your whole company, or multitude, ſhall be ſlain. The Septuagint render it, ‘ [...].’

But it is time to relinquiſh a diſquiſition, which will be diſcuſs'd with ſo much ſuperior learning and pene⯑tration, by one who intends ſhortly to oblige his coun⯑try with a dictionary of its language; a work for which its author is admirably qualified, as he has al⯑ready given us a ſpecimen of his abilities regarding ſuch a ſubject, if we may judge from a ſeries of eſſays, in which not only criticiſm and morality have ap⯑pear'd with new luſtre, but from which the Engliſh language has receiv'd new grace and dignity.

SECT. IX. Mr. Upton's opinion, concerning ſeveral paſſages in Spenſer, examined.

AS that part of criticiſm which conſiſts in rectify⯑ing the doubtful readings, and explaining the more obſcure paſſages of an antient author, neceſſarily [206] deals much in conjecture, and from its nature can ſel⯑dom afford demonſtration, and as thoſe who are em⯑ploy'd in this province, are too frequently compell'd to deduce their poſitions, not from what is, but from that which ſeems to be the truth, no ſcience, perhaps, pro⯑duces a greater diverſity of opinions concerning the ſame point, than this. That which appears a lucky cor⯑rection or alteration to one commentator, is rejected by another, as abſolutely improbable and abſurd; and, indeed, the difference of ſentiment in this caſe, is dictated by the different manner of conceiving things, which nature has implanted in the minds of different perſons. At the ſame time it muſt be acknowledg'd, that the pride of appearing more ſagacious than our predeceſſors, often occaſions the variation here inſiſted upon; and ſometimes mere caprice and obſtinacy. Though in examining ſome of the enſuing paſſages, I may be deceiv'd (as the reſt of my brethren have been) by the appearance of truth, which I have aſ⯑ſign'd above, as one of the cauſes of difference of opi⯑nion among the critics; I can promiſe the reader, that I will not ſuffer myſelf to be voluntarily miſled by any of the laſt-mention'd corrupt principles and pre⯑judices; and, upon this account, I ſhall be ready to give up any point, which, in this Section, I ſhall be proved to have miſtaken; hoping to find Mr. Upton a no leſs candid man, than an ingenious critic.

[207]

Mr. Upton propoſes to read ſleepers SHENT, i. e. ſleepers ill-treated or abus'd. But I rather think, that we ſhould preſerve the common reading, SENT, which is the proper and original ſpelling of ſcent: Sent, ſays Skinner (which we falſely write ſcent) is deriv'd a ſentiendo. Thus the meaning of this verſe, is, ‘"A falſe dream that could deceive or impoſe upon the ſleeper's perception."’ So that ſent, if we conſider its radix, ſentio, is here plainly made to ſig⯑nify perception in general. Scent is often thus ſpelt in our author.

Scent is often thus written by Milton, and, as Dr. Newton obſerves, with great propriety.

[208] I confeſs that SENT is ſomewhat harſh in this ſenſe: but what will not rhyme oblige the poet to ſay?

Mr. Upton would alter alive, in the third verſe, to bilive, i. e. immediately: For, ſays he, did he tumble down alive after his head was cleft aſunder?^* With⯑out entering into an anatomical diſquiſition concern⯑ing the poſſibility of living after ſuch a blow; we may remark, that the poet himſelf intimates to us, that he fell down alive, and did not die till after his fall, in theſe lines,

Mr. Upton would enforce and confirm the juſtneſs of his correction, by remarking, that the poet, in theſe verſes, copied from Virgil,

[209] Where the word moriens doth not imply, that the man who fell down, was dead. I muſt confeſs that alive is ſuperfluous, but Spenſer has run into many other ſuperfluities on account of the frequency of his rhyme. Mr. Upton propoſes likewiſe to write Earth [His Mother Earth] with an initial capital, ſuppoſing it a PERSON; however, we had, perhaps, better ſuppoſe it a THING: for if we underſtand it to be a Perſon, what an abſurd mixture ariſes?

Grave cannot be referr'd to Earth as a Perſon, but it may be to Earth as a Thing. However, it muſt be confeſs'd, that this is ſuch an abſurd mixture as Spen⯑ſer was very likely to have fallen into; and we have numberleſs inſtances of this fault, in his account of the rivers which attended the marriage of Thames and Medway, 4. 11. Where God and River (that is, Perſon and Thing) are often indiſcriminately put, the one for the other.

How can a Dropſy flow, (ſays Mr. Upton) if it be dry? He propoſes to remove this contradiction by reading dire Dropſy, the dirus Hydrops of Horace. But it is plain, that dry Dropſie is the ſpecies of the Dropſy ſo call'd, the dry Dropſy or Tympanites; which Spenſer has inaccurately confounded with the other ſpecies of the Dropſy, which may not improperly be [210] ſaid to flow through the fleſh; not conſidering the in⯑conſiſtency of making a dry thing flow. As to Mr. Upton's correction dire, I cannot perceive how DIRE could ever be miſtaken by the printers for DRY. Mr. Upton might, with equal propriety, have objected to the following words, DRY Drops.

By the way, it will be difficult alſo to determine what Spenſer means by congealed, which occurs again in the ſame ſenſe, and on the ſame occaſion,

But, upon ſuppoſition that the tears were actually frozen in her eye, we ſhould think dry a very odd epithet for ice.

To return: By DRY Dropſie, may not the poet, alſo mean, a Dropſie, which is the CAUSE of thirſt?

Mr. Upton reads,

Him angry, ſays Mr. Upton, means the Paynim, who is ſaid to be enraged above,

But becauſe the Paynim is angry, doth it neceſſarily follow, that the Elfin knight ſhould not be ſo too? He certainly has reaſon to be enraged and angry after [211] that bitter taunt, which provokes him to throw down his gauntlet, as a challenge. It is ſurely wrong to alter the text, when there is neither neceſſity to re⯑quire, nor authority to ſupport the correction.

Mr. Upton thus reads the laſt line,

But ſurely Dueſſa, and Sans foy his ſhield, are the lau⯑rel garlands, that is, the rewards to be given to the conqueror. Laurel garlands are metaphorically uſed, and put in appoſition with Dueſſa, and Sans foy his ſhield. It may be urg'd, as another objection to Mr. Upton's alteration, that Spenſer never cuts off the vowel in THE before a conſonant; upon which ac⯑count I would reject Hughes's reading of the follow⯑ing line,

That editor reads,

Hughes's reading, indeed, reſtores the true accent to Nemaean, but Spenſer frequently violates the accent of names of ancient places, &c.

Mr. Upton, upon ſuppoſition that we refer aye burn⯑ing to Fier-brond, does not approve of reading aye-burning, but y-burning. He is unwilling to join ay- (or y) burning to Stygian Lake; for, ſays he, the lake of brimſtone burnt not bright, but only ſerv'd to make darkneſs viſible. I allow, that Milton's idea of this lake was, that it ſerv'd to make darkneſs viſible. ^* But might not Spenſer's idea of the Stygian lake be different from Milton's? Beſides, why was the wea⯑pon carried to this Lake to be kindled, unleſs the Lake was BURNING?

The poet has given us the ſame image and allego⯑ry in another place,

Mr. Upton remarks, that MAKE, in this paſſage, ſignifies to verfify, ΠΟΙΕΙΝ, verſus facere. But there is reaſon to think, that make is here oppos'd to marre, in the ſame ſenſe as it is in the following lines.

Make and Marr were thus us'd together, as it were [213] proverbially, in our author's age. Thus Harrington, in his Arioſto,

Thus alſo G. Tuberville to the Counteſs of War⯑wick, Ann. 1570.

And in theſe lines from an old tranſlation of Ovid, quoted by the author of the Arte of Engliſh Poeſie. Medea of her children.

Again, in an old bombaſt play ridicul'd by Shakeſpere, ‘"And make and marre the fooliſh fates."^(*)’

Thus then the meaning of the lines before us is, ‘"My verſes are quite unpoliſh'd for ſo ſublime a ſubject, ſo that I ſpoil or deſtroy, inſtead of producing or executing any thing good or perfect."’

In the paſtoral JUNE, make is manifeſtly us'd in the ſenſe verſify; and for this we have moreover the teſti⯑mony of E. K.

Again, in Colin Clouts come home again.

[214] That is, Q. Elizabeth, whom in another place he calls,^* a PEERLESSE POETESSE. Again,

The author of the Art of Engliſh poeſie generally uſes MAKER for POET, ΠΟΙΗΤΗΣ; and if we believe Sir J. Harrington, it was that author who firſt brought this expreſſion (the ſignificancy of which is much com⯑mended by Sir P. Sydney, and B. Johnſon) into faſhion about the age of Q. Elizabeth. ‘"Nor to diſpute how high and ſupernatural the name of a MAKER is, ſo chriſtned in Engliſh, by that unknowne godfather, that this laſt year ſave one, viz. 1589, ſet forth a booke called the Arte of Engliſh Poeſie."^†’

Mr. Upton propoſes to read ſheene inſtead of CLEENE. But if this alteration is neceſſary here, is it not like⯑wiſe equally ſo in the following verſes?

Again in ſonnet, 45.

Harrington, in a tranſlation of an epigram of James I. on Sir Philip Sidney's death uſes CLEAN as an epithet to Venus's carknet, i. e. a necklace.

Mr. Upton obſerves, that we have here an inſtance of Spenſer's learning, and that he makes his knights ſwear by their ſwords agreeable to that cuſtom among the Goths and Hunns, as related by Jornandes, and Amm. Marcellinus. But I am inclin'd to believe, that our author drew this circumſtance from books that he was probably much better acquainted with, old romances. In MORTE ARTHUR we have frequent in⯑ſtances of knights ſwearing in this manner. The ſame ceremony occurs again,

In another place one of the knights ſwears by his knighthood, an oath which we likewiſe frequently meet with in Romance.

Mr. Upton * produces the expreſſion of ſheres the liquid ſky, as one of Spenſer's Latiniſms, from RADIT iter liquidum; and adds, that Milton has likewiſe us'd [216] the ſame Latin metaphor; I ſuppoſe the paſſage hin⯑ted at by Mr. Upton is, where, Satan

But ſhave and ſhear are perhaps as different as rado and tondeo. And TONDET iter liquidum would, I believe, be hardly allowed as ſynonymous to RADIT iter liquidum. My opinion is therefore, that Spenſer here intended no metaphor, but that he us'd SHERE for ſhare, to cut or divide, as he has manifeſtly in theſe inſtances.

‘"cut away nigh one quarter."’ In the following inſtances, for the reaſon above aſſign'd, we ought to interpret SHEARE [ſhere] to cut, or divide.

i. e. cut their way or paſſage. Thus likewiſe,

In another place we have ſhare, of Arthegall's ſword,

[217] So Milton, of Michael's ſword.

SECT. X. Of Spenſer's Allegorical Character.

IN reading the works of an author who lived in a remote age, it is neceſſary, that we ſhould look back upon the cuſtoms and manners which prevailed in his age; that we ſhould place ourſelves in his ſi⯑tuation, and circumſtances; that ſo we may be the bet⯑ter enabled to judge and diſcern how his turn of thinking, and manner of compoſing were biaſs'd, in⯑fluenc'd, and, as it were, tinctur'd, by very familiar and reigning appearances, which are utterly different from thoſe with which we are at preſent ſurrounded. For want of this caution, too many readers view the knights and damſels, the turnaments and enchant⯑ments of Spenſer with modern eyes, never conſider⯑ing that the encounters of Chivalry ſubſiſted in our author's age, as has been before hinted^†; that ro⯑mances were then moſt eagerly and univerſally read; and that thus, Spenſer from the faſhion of his age, was naturally diſpos'd to undertake a recital of chivalrous atchievements, and to become, in ſhort, a ROMANTIC POET.

Nor is it ſufficiently conſider'd, that a prevalent practice of Spenſer's age contributed in a very conſi⯑derable [218] degree to make him an ALLEGORICAL POET. It ſhould be remember'd that, in the age of which we are ſpeaking, allegory was the ſubject and foun⯑dation of public ſhews and ſpectacles, which were then exhibited with a magnificence ſuperior to that of former times; that the vices and virtues perſonify'd, and repreſented by living actors, diſtinguiſh'd with their reſpective emblematical types, were generally in⯑troduc'd to conſtitute PAGEANTRIES, which were then the principal entertainments, and ſhewn not only in private, and upon the ſtage, but very frequently in the open ſtreets, for ſolemniſing any public occaſion. As a proof of what is here advanc'd, I would refer the reader to Hollinſhed's ^* deſcription of the SHEW OF MANHOOD AND DESERT exhibited at Norwich, before queen Elizabeth; and more particularly to his account of a ^† TURNEY performed by Fulke Gre⯑vile, the lords Arundell, and Windſor, and ſir Philip Sydney; who are feign'd to be the children of DESIRE attempting to win the fortreſſe of BEAUTY; in which laſt ſpectacle much poetical invention is diſcover'd.

[219]In the mean time, I do not deny that our author, was in great meaſure, induc'd, from the practice of Arioſto, to write a poem partaking much of allegory: yet it muſt ſtill be granted, that Spenſer's manner of allegorizing ſeems to have rather reſulted from ſome of the ſpectacles juſt mention'd, than from what he had red in Arioſto. In fact, Arioſto's allegory does not ſo much conſiſt in perſonifying the virtues, vices, and affections of the mind, as it does in adumbrat⯑ing moral doctrine ^* under the actions of men and [220] women. In ſuch an adumbration, Spenſer's allegory ſometimes conſiſts; as in the firſt book, where The Red-croſſe Knight, or a TRUE CHRISTIAN, attended by Una, or TRUTH, defeats the wiles of Archimago, or the DEVIL, &c. &c. yet he has ſhewn himſelf a much more ingenious allegoriſt, where his IMAGINA⯑TION BODIES forth unſubſtantial things, TURNS THEM TO SHAPE, and marks out the nature, powers, and effects of that which is ideal and abſtracted, by viſible and external ſymbols; as in his delineations of FEAR, ENVY, FANCY, DESPAIR, and the like. Arioſto gives us but few of theſe ſymbolical beings, in compariſon of Spenſer; and thoſe which he has given us, are by no means drawn with that fullneſs and diſtinctneſs with which they are painted by the latter. And that Spenſer painted theſe figures ſo fully and diſtinctly, may we not reaſonably attribute it, to his being frequently ha⯑bituated to the ſight of theſe ſymbolical beings, diſtin⯑guiſh'd with their proper emblems, and actually en⯑dued with ſpeech, motion, and life?

As a more convincing argument in confirmation of what has been aſſerted upon this head, it may be re⯑mark'd, that Spenſer denominates his moſt exquiſite groupe of allegorical figures, the MASKE OF CUPID; thus, without recurring to conjecture, his own words indubitably demonſtrate, that he had ſometimes repre⯑ſentations of this ſort in his eye: he tells us, that theſe figures were

[221] And in his introduction to this groupe, it is manifeſt that he drew from another allegoric ſpectacle of age, called the DUMB SHEW^*, which was wont to be ex⯑hibited before every act of a tragedy. St. 3.

He afterwards ſtyles theſe figures MASKERS.

From what has been ſaid, I would not have it ob⯑jected, that I have intended to arraign the natural fertility of our author's invention; and to prove, that he minutely copied after theſe repreſentations; all that I have endeavoured to inculcate, is, that Spenſer was not only better qualified to delineate fictions of this ſort, becauſe they were

Becauſe they were the real objects of his ſight, but that (as all men are influenced by what they ſee) he was prompted and induced to delineate them, becauſe he ſaw them, eſpecially as they were ſo much the de⯑light of his age.

Inſtead of entering into an examination of Spenſer's manner of allegoriſing, and of the conduct of his allegories in particular, which has been done with an equally judicious and ingenious diſcernment by Mr. Spenſe;^† I ſhall mention one capital fault committed by the poet in this point, which does not immediately fall under the rules of criticiſm.

[223] ‘"Painters, ſays a French writer, ought to employ their allegories in religious pictures, with much greater reſerve than in profane pieces. They may, indeed, in ſuch ſubjects as do not repreſent the myſteries and miracles of our religion, make uſe of [224] an allegorical compoſition, the action whereof ſhall be expreſſive of ſome truth, that cannot be repre⯑ſented otherwiſe, either in painting or ſculpture. I agree therefore to let them draw FAITH and HOPE ſupporting a dying perſon, and RELIGION in deep affliction at the feet of a deceaſed prelate. But I am of opinion, that artiſts who treat of the mira⯑cles and dogmas of our religion, are allowed no kind of allegorical compoſition.—The facts whereon our religion is built, and the doctrine it delivers us, are ſubjects in which the painter's imagination has no liberty to ſport.^*"’ The conduct which this author condemns, is practiſed by Spenſer, with this difference only; that the painters here condemned are ſuppoſed to adapt human allegory to divine myſtery, whereas Spenſer has adopted divine myſtery to human allegory. Such a practice as this, is not only to con⯑found ſacred and profane matters, but to place the li⯑centious ſallies of imagination upon a level with the dictates of divine inſpiration; to debaſe the truth and dignity of heavenly things, by making Chriſtian alle⯑gory ſubſervient to the purpoſes of Romantic fiction.

This fault our author has moſt glaringly committed throughout his whole firſt book, where the imaginary inſtruments and expedients of romance, are perpetually interwoven with the myſteries contained in the BOOK of REVELATIONS. Dueſſa, who is formed upon the idea of a romantic enchantreſs, is gorgeouſly array'd in gold and purple, and preſented with a ^† triple crown [225] by the giant Orgoglio, and ſeated by him on a mon⯑ſtrous ſeven-headed dragon, (i. 7. 16.) whoſe tail reaches to the ſkies, and throws down the ſtars, (St. 18.) ſhe bearing a golden cup in her hand. (1. 8. 25.) This is the SCARLET WHORE, and the RED DRAGON in the REVELATIONS. ‘"Behold a great red dragon, having ſeven heads, and ten horns, and ſeven crowns upon his heads; and his tail drew the third part of the ſtars of heaven, and did caſt them to earth^*."’ Again, ‘"I ſaw a woman ſit upon a ſcarlet-colour'd beaſt, full of names of blaſ⯑phemy, having ſeven heads, and ten horns; and the woman was arrayed in purple and ſcarlet co⯑lour, and decked with gold, and precious ſtones and pearls, having a golden cup in her hands, full of abomination, and filthineſs of her fornication^†."’

In Orgoglio's caſtle, which is deſcrib'd as very magnificent, Prince Arthur diſcovers

The inſpir'd author of the above-nam'd ſacred book mentions the ſame of what he ſaw in heaven. ‘"I ſaw under the altar the ſouls of them that were ſlain [226] for the word of God, and for the teſtimony which they held; and they cried with a loud voice, how long, O Lord, holy and true, doſt thou not judge, and avenge our blood on them that dwell on earth^*?"’

A hermit points out to the RED-CROSSE knight the New Jeruſalem, (1. 10. 53.) which an angel diſcovers to St. John, (c. 21. 10, &c.) This proſpect is taken, ſays the poet, from a mountain more lofty then either the mount of Olives or Parnaſſus; theſe two compa⯑riſons thus impertinently linked together, ſtrongly re⯑mind us of the abſurdity we are now ſpeaking of, the mixture of divine truth, with profane invention; and naturally lead us to reflect on the difference be⯑tween the oracles frequently utter'd from the former, and the fictions of thoſe who dreamt on the latter.

Spenſer in the viſionary dominions of Una's father has planted the TREE of LIFE, and KNOWLEDGE: from the firſt of the trees, he ſays, a well flow'd, whoſe waters contain'd a moſt ſalutary virtue, and which the dragon could not approach. Thus in the ſame ſcripture, ‘"He ſhewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as cryſtal, proceeding out of the throne of God, and of the lamb. In the midſt of the ſtreet of it, and on either ſide of the river was there the TREE of LIFE^†".’ The circumſtance, in par⯑ticular, of the dragon not being able to approach this water is literally adopted from Romance, as has been before obſerv'd^**. Thus alſo by the ſteps and expe⯑dients [227] of romance, we are led to the death of the dra⯑gon who beſieged the parents of Una, by which is figur'd the deſtruction of the old ſerpent mention'd in the Apocalypſe.

The extravagancies of Pagan Mythology are not improperly introduced into a poem of this ſort, as they are acknowledged falſities, or at beſt, if expreſ⯑ſive of any moral truth, no more than the inventions of men. But he that applies the VISIONS OF GOD in ſuch a manner, is guilty of an impropriety, which, I fear, amounts to an impiety.

If we look back from Spenſer's age thro' the ſtate of poeſy in this kingdom, we ſhall find that it prin⯑cipally conſiſted in the allegoric ſpecies; but that this ſpecies never received its abſolute conſummation till it appear'd with new luſtre in the FAERIE QUEENE. There are indeed the works of ſome Engliſh poets now remaining, who wrote before Gower and Chau⯑cer; but theſe are chiefly chroniclers in rhyme, and ſeem to have left us the laſt dregs of that kind of compoſition which was practic'd by the Britiſh bards: as for inſtance, the ^* chronicle of Robert of Gloceſter, who wrote according to his own account about the year 1280. And hence we may obſerve, [228] that Gower and Chaucer were reputed the firſt Eng⯑liſh poets, becauſe they firſt introduc'd INVENTION into our poetry; they MORALIZED THEIR SONG, and ſtrove to render virtue more amiable, by cloathing her in the veil of fiction. Chaucer, it muſt be ac⯑knowledged, deſerves to be rank'd as one of the firſt Engliſh poets, on another account; his admirable ar⯑tifice in painting the manners, which none before him had ever attempted even in the moſt imperfect de⯑gree; and it ſhould be remember'd to his honour, that he was the firſt who gave the Engliſh nation, in its own language, an idea of HUMOUR. With theſe flou⯑riſh'd the author of PIERCE PLOWMAN'S VISIONS, of which I have given an occaſional ſketch, above. To theſe ſucceeded Lydgate, who from his principal performances the FALL OF PRINCES, and STORY of [229] Thebes, might more properly be ſtyled a legendary than allegorical poet; although the firſt of theſe, is in great meaſure, a ſeries of viſions^*, and the latter contains a groupe of imaginary perſonages which his maſter Chaucer cannot ſurpaſs. He is deſcribing the company preſent at the marriage of Oedipus and Jocaſta.

We have of this author two poems, viz. the ^** TEMPLE of GLASS, and the DANCE of DEATH, [230] or dance of MACHABREE,^* which are both pro⯑feſſedly written in the ſpecies of which I am at [231] preſent ſpeaking. Lidgate has received numberleſs encomiums from our old Engliſh poets, to which [232] his language entitled him, rather than his ima⯑gination; for though he is a very unaminated writer, yet he made very conſiderable improvements in the original ſtate of our Engliſh verſification, by writing in ſo polite a ſtyle; and it ought not to be denied, that Lydgate is the firſt Engliſh poet, who can be red without heſitation and difficulty. To Lydgate ſucceeded John Harding, who wrote a Chro⯑nicle, in verſe, of all our Engliſh kings, from Brutus to the reign of king Edward IV. in which he liv'd. This piece is often commended, and quoted by ſome of our beſt antiquaries. But his merit, as an hiſto⯑rian, naturally excludes him from that which he ſhould arrogate as a poet: accuracy in collecting, and fideli⯑ty in relating events, may be, perhaps, juſtly allow'd him, but not the leaſt effort of invention. So that, from the ſpecimen produced by Harding at this time, there was ſome reaſon to preſage, that poeſy was re⯑lapſing into its primaeval barbariſm; and that the rudeneſs of Robert of Glouceſter, would be reinſtated [233] in the place of Chaucer's taſte, judgement, and imagination.

However in the reign of Henry VII. ample amends were made for this interval of darkneſs by Stephen Hawes, a name generally unknown, and not menti⯑oned by any Engliſh compiler of the lives of Engliſh poets, but by the accurate Wood^*. This author I look upon to be the reſtorer of invention in our poetry, whoſe ſtreams had flow'd in a current ſtill more polluted and ſluggiſh, ever ſince the time of Chaucer. He not only reviv'd, but highly improved the an⯑tient allegoric vein, which the rhyming chronicle of the laſt mentioned poet had (as I before hinted) now totally expelled. Inſtead of that dryneſs and harſh⯑neſs of deſcription which are ſo remarkably diſguſting in his predeceſſors, we are by this author often enter⯑tained with the fullneſs and luxuriancy of Spenſer-Hawes refin'd Lydgate's verſification, and gave it, what it wanted, ſentiment and invention; added new graces to the ſeven-lined ſtanza, which Gower and Chaucer firſt introduced into our tongue from the Italian; and, to ſum up all, was the firſt of our poets, who taught fertile fancy, and high-wrought fiction to wear the garb of perſpicuous and harmonious numbers. The title of his poem is almoſt as univerſally un⯑known as his name, and is as follows. ‘"The hiſtory of GRAUNDE AMOURE and LA BEL PUCEL, called the PASTIME OF PLEASURE; contayning the know⯑ledge of the ſeven ſciences, and the courſe of man's lyfe in this worlde. Invented by Stephen Hawes, [234] grome of Kyng Henry the ſeventh his chamber."’ In a note after the contents, it is ſaid to be written in the twenty-firſt year of Henry VII. which is in the year, 1505.

In the reign of king Henry VIII. learning appear'd with new luſtre in this iſland; and this age is perhaps the firſt which England ever ſaw, that may with pro⯑priety be ſtyled claſſical; as it was dignify'd with the great names of Sir Thomas More, Colet, dean of St. Paul's, Cheke, Aſcham, together with many more illuſtrious rivals in genius and erudition Nor is it the moſt inconſiderable honour of this age, that Eraſ⯑mus was now entertained and patronized in England; and that the Greek language, in which are repoſited the treaſures of true learning now began to be taught and admir'd. In this age flouriſh'd John Skelton, who notwithſtanding the great and new lights with which he was ſurrounded, contributed not the leaſt ſhare of improvement to what his anceſtors had left him; nor do I perceive that his verſification is in any degree more poliſh'd than that of his immediate predeceſſor, Hawes. His beſt pieces are written in the allegorical manner, and are, his CROWNE of LAU⯑RELL, and BOWGE OF COURT. But the genius of this author ſeems little better qualify'd for pic⯑tureſque, than for ſatyrical poetry; in the former, he wants invention, grace, and dignity; in the lat⯑ter, wit, and good manners.

I ſhould be guilty of injuſtice to merit in particu⯑lar, and to a nation in general, which amidſt a variety [235] of diſadvantages has kept a conſtant pace with Eng⯑land in the progreſs of literature, were I here to omit the mention of two Scottiſh poets, who flouriſh'd a⯑bout this time, Sir David Lyndeſay, and William Dunbar; the former of which, in his DREAM, and other pieces, and the latter in his GOLDEN TERCE, or SHIELD, and in THE THISTLE AND ROSE, has diſcover'd a genuine ſpirit of allegoriſing. Soon af⯑terwards, appear'd a ſeries of poems, entitled the MIRROR OF MAGISTRATES, form'd upon a ^* dra⯑matic plan, and capable of admitting ſome of the moſt affecting pathetical ſtrokes; but theſe, however honour'd with the commendation of Sir Philip Syd⯑ney, are little better than a biographical detail. There is one piece indeed among the reſt, which exhibits a train of imaginary perſonages ſo beautifully drawn, [236] that in all probability they contributed to ſtimulate and awaken the imagination of Spenſer, in forming the like deſcriptions. This however may be affirm'd from demonſtration, that SACKVILLE'S INDUCTION ap⯑proaches nearer to the FAERIE QUEENE in allegoric repreſentation than any previous or ſucceeding poem.

After the FAERIE QUEENE, allegory began to de⯑cline, and by degrees gave place to a ^* ſpecies of com⯑poſition in which the perplex'd ſubtilities of metaphy⯑ſical diſquiſition ſtrongly prevail'd; and which per⯑haps took it's riſe from the taſte and influence of that pacific prince, and profound ſcholaſtic James I.

Allegory notwithſtanding abruptly diſcover'd itſelf once more with ſomewhat of it native ſplendor in the ^* PURPLE ISLAND of Fletcher, with whom it al⯑moſt as ſoon diſappear'd; when a poetry ſucceeded in [237] which imagination gave way to correctneſs; ſublimity of deſcription to delicacy of ſentiment, and ſtriking imagery to conceit and epigram. Poets began now to be more attentive to words, than things and objects; and a manner of expreſſing a thought prettily, was more regarded than that of conceiving one nobly. The Muſes^* were debauch'd at court, and life and man⯑ners became their themes; inſomuch that the ſimpli⯑city and true Sublime of the PARADISE LOST, was by theſe triflers either totally diſregarded, or elſe miſtaken for inſipidity, and bombaſt^†.

[238]Without conducting the reader any farther thro' the ſucceeding ſtages and revolutions of the poetical re⯑public in this kingdom, I ſhall beg his pardon for having proceeded thus far in an enquiry that may ſeem a deviation from the ſubject of this ſection, which I ſhall conclude with the ſentiments of the Abbe Du Bos on allegorical action, which tho' applied by him to dramatic poets, are equally appli⯑cable to the action of the FAERIE QUEENE. ‘"It is impoſſible for a piece, whoſe ſubject is an allegorical action, to intereſt us very much. Thoſe which writers of approved wit and talents have hazarded in this kind, have not ſucceeded ſo well as others, where they have been diſpos'd to be leſs ingenious, and to treat hiſtorically their ſubject.—Our heart requires truth even in fiction itſelf; and when it is preſented with an allegorical action, it cannot deter⯑mine itſelf, (if I may be allowed the expreſſion) to enter into the ſentiments of thoſe chimerical perſon⯑ages. It conſiders them as enigmas and ſymbols, that envelop ſome precepts of morality, or ſatyrical ſtrokes, which properly belong to the juriſdiction of the mind. Now a theatrical piece, were it to ſpeak only to the mind, would never be capable of engag⯑ing [239] our attention thro' the whole performance. We may therefore apply the words of Lactantius upon this occaſion.^* Poetic licence has its bounds, be⯑yond which you are not permitted to carry your fiction. A poet's art conſiſts in making a good re⯑preſentation of things that might have really hap⯑pened, and embelliſhing them with elegant images. TOTUM AUTEM, QUOD REFERAS, FINGERE, ID EST INEPTUM ESSE ET MENDACEM, POTIUS QUAM POETAM."’

SECT. XI. Containing Miſcellaneous Remarks.

IN reading the FAERIE QUEENE ſome obſervations neceſſarily occured which could not be conveniently referr'd to the general heads of the foregoing ſections, which, in this, are thrown together without connection, as they occaſionally and ſucceſſively offered themſelves.

By the word moralize, Spenſer declares his deſign of writing an allegorical poem; tho' my ſubject, ſays he, conſiſts of fierce wars and faithfull loves, yet under theſe ſhall be couch'd moral doctrine, and the pre⯑cepts of virtue. Our author, in another place, ſtyles his FAERIE QUEENE A MORALL LAY, where the ſhepherd addreſſes Colin Clout, who repreſents Spenſer,

And biſhop Hall, in his prologue to his ſatires where he alludes to this poem, hints at the preceptive na⯑ture of it in theſe words; ſpeaking of the ſwords of Elfiſh Knights,

And Drayton calls our author, with reference to the morality contained in the FAERIE QUEENE,

‘B. i. C. i. S. vii.’ Of a grove.

It was an antient ſuperſtition that ſtars had a malign influence on trees. Hence Milton, in Arcades,

And in the ſame poem.

Where dire-looking is drawn from the aſtrological term, malign aſpect. ‘B. i. C. i. S. xv.’Speaking of the young ones of error.

This circumſtance is not the poet's invention; it is reported of adders by many naturaliſts.

Thus a falſe Florimel is made of ſnow, animated with a ſpright, 3. 8. 5. Mr. Pope thinks that our author drew the idea of his falſe Florimel from that paſſage in Homer where Apollo raiſes a phantom in the ſhape of Aeneas, B. 5. Iliad. and from the fictitious Turnus of Virgil; Aen. 10. 637. But he probably borrow'd it more immediately from romance, where magicians are often feigned to dreſs up ſome wicked ſpirit with a counterfeit likeneſs, in order to carry on their pur⯑poſes of deception.

Thus Archimago diſguiſes himſelf in the accoutre⯑ments of the Red-Croſs Knight, who, as we were be⯑fore told, was

And,

[242] Spenſer, as Mr. Jortin obſerves, plainly alluded to this text in the Pſalms,^* ‘"In them hath he ſet a tabernacle for the ſun; which cometh forth as a bridegroom out of his chamber, and rejoyceth as a giant to run his courſe."’ But our author has ſtrangely inverted the circumſtances. The pſalmiſt alludes to the Jewiſh cuſtom of the bridegroom being conducted from his chamber at midnight, with great pomp, and preceded by a great number of torches. This is the illuſtration of the admirable Dr. Jackſon, and without it the compariſon is of no force or pro⯑priety. The idea which our author would convey is, that, Phoebus came forth freſh and vigorous as a bridegroom, when he goes to his bride. The cir⯑cumſtance of Phoebus ‘"came dauncing forth"’ ſeems to have been copied by Milton in his elegant ſong on May morning.

But probably Milton drew it from an old poem, cal⯑led, the CUCKOW, by R. Niccols, 1607, who ſpeak⯑ing of the eaſt, ſays,

eſpecially as Milton has two thoughts in that ſong, which are likewiſe in the CUCKOW. Milton calls the morning ſtar

Niccols calls the cock

[243] Milton ſays of May,

Niccols of May,

Milton, I ſuppoſe, had been reading this poem of the CUCKOW juſt before he wrote his ſong, and ſo im⯑perceptibly adopted ſome of its thoughts and expreſ⯑ſions. And here it may be obſerv'd, that in critici⯑ſing upon Milton, Johnſon, Spenſer, and ſome other of our elder poets, not only a competent knowledge of all antient claſſical learning is requiſite, but alſo an acquaintance with thoſe books, which, though now forgotten and loſt, were yet in repute about the time in which each author reſpectively wrote, and which it is moſt likely he had red.

A Lion here fawns upon Una. It is the doctrine of romance, that a Lion will do no injury to a true virgin.

According to the faſhion of dreſs which prevail'd in the poet's age.

In this beautiful circumſtance, he, probably, received a diſtant hint from Virgil.

‘"So prudent."’ This word puts me in mind of a correction, which Mr. Upton has made in Chaucer.

Mr. Upton cannot make ſenſe of this; and therefore propoſes to read,

That is, ‘"As handſom as was worn by any woman."’

But the expreſſion, I was ware, occurs again in Chaucer.

And, I preſume, ſignifies, in both placet, as, I was AWARE, as, I perceiv'd; and we meet with, was I ware, after this manner,

very frequently; which is the ſame as, I WAS WARE.

That is, her knight's armor; which the Dwarf brings to her. St. 19.

EMBOW'D, i. e. ‘"arched, arcuatus, bent like a BOW."’ A box having a vaulted cover of gold. Spenſer, in the Viſions of the world's vanity, expreſſes the curve of the Moon by this word.

Harrington, in his Orlando Furioſo, makes uſe of EMBOWD, to denote the concave appearance of the clouds in the ſky.

Gaſcoigne in Jocaſta, a tragedy, applies EMBOWD to a roof.

That is, vaulted with curious work: and Milton,

Impreſſions made in earlieſt youth, are ever after⯑wards moſt ſtrongly felt; and I am inclin'd to think, that Milton was firſt affected with, and often in⯑dulg'd the penſive pleaſure, which the awful ſolemnity of a Gothic church conveys to the mind, and which is here ſo feelingly deſcrib'd, while he was a ſchool⯑boy at St. Paul's. The church was then in its origi⯑nal Gothic ſtate, and one of the nobleſt patterns of that kind of architecture.

Thus again,

[247] Thus alſo G. Gaſcoigne to Lady Bridges.

And in the Hymne in honour of Love,

‘B. i. C. xi. S. liv.’ Of the Dragon's death.

We meet with the ſame circumſtance in Hawes's Paſtime of Pleaſure. But it is uſual in Romance.

The ſame verſe occurrs, and upon the ſame occaſion.

There was an old romance, entitled, Sir HUON OF BOURDEAUX; mention'd among other old hiſtories of that kind, in the letter concerning Q. Elizabeth's entertainment at Kenelworth, above quoted.^*

[248]Heroines in Romance are often deliver'd in ſolitary forreſts, without aſſiſtance; and the child, thus born, generally proves a knight of moſt extraordinary puiſ⯑ſance.

We meet with BLOUD-GUILTINESSE again below.

Again,

This is a word which would have been rank'd among Spenſer's obſolete terms, had it not been accidently preſerv'd to us, in the tranſlation of the Pſalms us'd in our Liturgy, ‘"Deliver me from BLOUD-GUILTI⯑NESSE, O God."^†’ The ſame may be ſaid of BLOUD-THIRSTIE,

He ſeems to have had his eye on that verſe in the Pſalms, ‘"Like as it were a moth fretting a garment."^*’

[249]Dryden, who had a particular fondneſs for our au⯑thor, has copied this paſſage, in Cymon and Iphigenia.

Drawn from Aeneas's addreſs to his mother, and in the ſame manner again,

Milton has finely applied this manner of addreſs (originally drawn from Ulyſſes's addreſs to Nauſicaa, Odyſſ. 6.) in Comus.

This is highly agreeable to the character of the flat⯑tering and deceitful Comus; and the ſuppoſition that ſhe was the goddeſs or genius of the wood, reſulting from the ſituation of the perſons, is new as well as pro⯑per. [250] There is another paſſage in Comus, whoſe ſub⯑ject is not much unlike that of the verſes juſt pro⯑duc'd, which, probably, Milton copied from Euripides.

Comus thus deſcribes to the Lady her brothers. And thus a ſhepherd, in Iphigenia in Tauris, deſcribes Py⯑lades and Oreſtes to Iphigenia.

I ſhall take this opportunity of pointing out one or two more of Milton's imitations; by which it will farther appear, how well he knew to make a bor⯑row'd thought or deſcription his own, by the pro⯑priety of the application. Michael thus ſpeaks of what would happen to Paradiſe in the univerſal De⯑luge.

Delos (in Homer's hymn to Apollo) tells Latona, that he is unwilling that Apollo ſhould be born in his iſland,

In the ſame book, ſome of the circumſtances in Mi⯑chael's account of the Flood, ſeem to be drawn from an Ode of Caſimir, entitled, Noe Vaticinium.

Noah is introduc'd by Caſimir, thus deſcribing the effects of the Flood.

This ſeems to be Virgil's,

SUGRED, to expreſs exceſſive ſweetneſs, was a fre⯑quent epithet with the poets of this age, and with thoſe of the ages before it. It anſwer'd to the Mel⯑litus of the Romans.

Some late editors of Shakeſpere have endeavour'd to prove, that wench did not antiently carry with it the idea of meanneſs or infamy. But in this place it plainly ſignifies a looſe woman; and in the following paſſages of Chaucer. January having ſuſpected his wife May's conjugal fidelity, May anſwers,

[254] And in the Houſe of Fame, wench is coupled with groom,

Lucretius has given us this metaphor.

RECREANT knight, is a term of romance. Thus in MORTE ARTHUR. ‘"Than ſaid the knight to the king, thou art in my daunger whether me lyſt to ſave thee or to ſley thee; and but thou yeeld thee as overcome and RECREANT, thou ſhalt dye. As for death ſaid king Arthur, welcome be it when it cometh; but as to yeeld me to thee as RECREANT, &c."^(†)’

SPETT ſeems anciently to have more ſimply ſignify'd DISPERSE, without the low idea which we at preſent affix to it. Thus Milton in Comus,

[255] And Drayton, in the barons wars, of an exhalation

‘B. ii. C. viii. S. v.’ A deſcription of an angel.

Milton^* in his deſcription of Satan under the form of a ſtripling-cherub, has highly improv'd upon Spen⯑ſer's angel, and Taſſo's Gabriel^‡, both which he ſeems to have had in his eye. And in his Raphael.^** Many authors, before Milton, have deſcrib'd angels, in which they have inſiſted only upon the graces of youth and beauty. But it muſt be granted, that our great countryman was the firſt that ever attempted to give, or who, at the ſame time, gave with becoming majeſty, the idea of an ARMED ANGEL. He, pro⯑bably, receiv'd ſome hints, in this reſpect, from painting, swhich he had ſeen in Italy; particularly from one by Raphael, where Michael, clad in celeſtial panoply, triumphs over Satan chain'd. ‘[256] B. ii. C. x. S. vii.’ Speaking of Albion,

This puts me in mind of Geoffry of Monmouth's ac⯑count of the original ſtate of Albion. ‘"Erat tunc nomen inſulae Albion, quae a nemine niſi a PAUCIS GI⯑GANTIBUS inhabitabatur."’ A few giants in that hi⯑ſtorian's opinion were but of little conſideration.

So Virgil,

Thus again,

And in the ſame ſtanza,

And above,

Which two laſt inſtances are more like Virgil's ferreus imber.

Among other inſtances of the extraordinary ſtrength of heroes in lifting a huge ſtone, deſcrib'd by the antient poets, I think the following in Apollonius has never been alledged. Jaſon cruſhes the growing warriors with a vaſt ſtone.

But Jaſon was aſſiſted in this miraculous effort by the enchantments of Medea.

Hardly any thing is deſcrib'd with greater pomp and magnificence than artificial fountains in Romance. See a glorious one in Arioſto. 42. 91.

Mr. Jortin ^* obſerves, that this is taken from a Dia⯑logue in Plutarch, inſcrib'd, ‘ [...];’ where Gryllus, one of the compa⯑nions of Ulyſſes, transform'd into a hog by Circe, holds a diſcourſe with Ulyſſes, and refuſes to be re⯑ſtor'd to his human ſhape.

Not many years before the FAERIE QUEENE was written, viz. 1548, Gelli publiſhed his Circe, which is declar'd in the Preface to be founded upon the Dia⯑logue of Plutarch, mention'd by Mr. Jortin. Circe ſoon became a very popular book, and was tranſlated into Engliſh (as likewiſe into other languages) in the Year 1557, by one Henry Iden; ſo that, probably, Spenſer had red it; and might be induc'd to conſult that Dialogue, from its mention in the preface.

This verſe would be improv'd in its harmony, by reading,

As would the following alſo,

If we were to read,

But theſe corrections are made by the critic, upon a ſuppoſition that his author muſt infallibly have writ⯑ten what was beſt. It may be laid down as a general rule, that an Alexandrine cannot be harmonious with⯑out a full pauſe after the third foot. Thus,

Conſequently the ſixth ſyllable muſt neceſſarily be a monoſyllable, or the laſt ſyllable of a word; for we cannot make a full pauſe in the middle of a word, upon which account ſuch Alexandrines as theſe are neceſſarily inharmonious.

[260] And becauſe a full pauſe muſt be made on the laſt ſyllable of the third foot, the third foot ſhould never conſiſt of a Trochee, for then we ſhould be oblig'd to lay the greater ſtreſs upon the ſhort ſyllable; as if the third foot was to be Beāuty̆, Coūrăge, grēedy̆, flōwry̆, or the like.

And it may be further remark'd, that an Iambus, for the third foot, will make the verſe more muſical, as the pauſe will be more ſtrong after a ſhort ſyllable. Thus,

For the ſame reaſon an Iambic foot at the end of any Engliſh verſe has a good effect.

An Alexandrine entirely conſiſting of Iambic feet, anſwers preciſely to a pure Iambic verſe of the antients. Thus,

In reading this kind of meaſure, the antients did not, probably, huddle the ſyllables together, as we do: but it would be difficult to point out the places at which they made their pauſes. Why ſhould the fol⯑lowing pure Iambic of Sophocles,^*

Be red like mere proſe, without any certain pauſe, or diviſion? and this verſe of Anacreon,^†

Be red with theſe reſts,

May we not ſuppoſe, that the Iambic of Sophocles was red with ſome ſuch diviſions as theſe,

Which are not very unlike thoſe which we make uſe of in reading the above Engliſh Alexandrine (or Iambic) verſe,

It may be obſerv'd, that a Latin Hexameter is eſſen⯑tially diſtinguiſh'd from a proſe ſentence, only by being ended with a Dactyle preceding a Spondee; upon which account our manner of reading the end⯑ings of ſuch Hexameters as theſe, procumbit Humi Bos, Oceano Nox, amica Luto Sus, &c. is probably wrong. According to our preſent manner of reading them, the whole verſe doth not differ in ſound from an Ora⯑tio proſaica; contrary therefore to our preſent prac⯑tice, we ſhould take care to expreſs the Dactyle and Spondee thus—Ocean—o Nox; and ſo of the reſt. And that this was the practice of the antients, may be farther infer'd from theſe words of Quintilian, on reading verſes, ‘"SIT LECTIO VIRILIS, ET CUM SEVERITATE QUADAM GRAVIS; ET NON QUIDEM PROSAE SIMILIS QUIA CARMEN EST."^*’

Hairie ſeems to be an odd epithet for Beames. I once thought that Spenſer might have wrote, airie beames, i. e. beams ſtreaming through the air. But hairie is undoubtedly the genuine reading, as the ad⯑jective and ſubſtantive, hairie and beames, are alternate⯑ly inverted and oppos'd to flaming and locks.

With baſcio mani, Ital. with kiſſing her hands: a phraſe, perhaps, common in our author's age, when Italian manners were univerſally affected.

‘"Out of her DEFILED bed."’

That is, with her ſkin ſpotted, or variegated; in its primary ſenſe, beſprinkled: this is the genuine ſpelling of powder'd, according to the etymology to which Skin⯑ner conjectures it to belong, viz. a pulvere, conſpergo [263] pulvere. We find the ſubſtantive POWDER generally ſpelt thus in old authors.

Thus B. Johnſon,

Spenſer again uſes the verb in its ſenſe, beſprinkle,

Thus Sir Ph. Sydney, in Aſtrophell and Stella,^††

Thus Harrington,

Again, where it may be interpreted, embroider,

Thus alſo Chaucer,

And, in the following inſtance, it ſeems to be lite⯑rally uſed for embroidering.

I had not collected all theſe inſtances, but with a de⯑ſign of placing an expreſſion of Milton in a proper light.

That is, ‘"The milky way, which every night ap⯑pears to you, like a circling zone beſprinkled or em⯑broider'd with ſtars."’ To the majority of readers, I dare ſay, powdred with ſtars has ever appear'd a very mean, or rather ridiculous, metaphor. It oc⯑currs in Sackville's Induction to the MIRROR OF MAGISTRATES.

That is, thick-beſprinkled, or variegated. Sandys, in his notes to the CHRISTUS PATIENS of Grotius, ſpeaking of the Veil in Solomon's Temple, ‘"ſays, that it was POWDRED with Cherubims."^(†)’

From the holy herſe, is, I ſuppoſe, the ſame as if he had ſaid, from the holy HERSAL, which is us'd after⯑wards.

So that holy herſe is here, the rehearſal of the prayers in the church-ſervice, at which Britomart is now de⯑ſcrib'd as preſent. HERSE occurs, in the Paſtoral of November, as the burden of Colin's ſong, "O heavie HERSE," and, "O happie HERSE" where E. K. interprets HERSE, The ſolemne Obſequie in Funerals.

This is the Gorlois of whom Milton ſpeaks,^*

Geoffrey of Monmouth informs us, that Uther Pendragon fell in love with Igerne, or Iogerne, the wife of Gorlois prince of Cornwall. In the abſence of Gorlois, Merlin, by his magic, transform'd Uther into the likeneſs of Gorlois, and one Ulfin into the likeneſs of Jordan, a familiar friend of Gorlois, him⯑ſelf aſſuming the figure of one Bricel; by means of [266] which artifice, Uther enjoy'd Iogerne, and begot king Arthur.^† Spenſer, in his Epiſtle to Sir W. Raleigh, calls Iogerne, or Igerne, the Lady IGRAYNE.

Glauce, with the greateſt propriety, is here made to allude to the bards, whoſe ^* buſineſs it was to ſing to the harp the warlike atchievements of their countrymen, and who flouriſhed in high perfection, at the time in which our author has ſuppos'd the events of the FAERIE QUEENE to have fallen out. They are in⯑troduc'd, with no leſs conſiſtency, playing upon their harps in the hall of the Houſe of PRIDE.

The bards were uſually employ'd upon ſuch public occaſions, in bower or hall, as Milton terms it.

[267]Tobacco was, at this time, but newly diſcover'd to the Engliſh, and not an ordinary herb, as it is at pre⯑ſent. Probably Tobacco is here mention'd, with ſo much honour, by way of paying a compliment to Sir Walter Raleigh, our author's friend and patron, who firſt introduc'd and us'd Tobacco in England.

Witches were thought really to exiſt in the age of Queen Elizabeth, and our author had, probably, been ſtruck with ſeeing ſuch a cottage as this, in which a witch was ſuppos'd to live. Thoſe who have perus'd Mr. Blackwall's Enquiry into the life and writings of Homer, will be beſt qualified to judge how much better enabled that poet is to deſcribe, who copies from living objects, than he who deſcribes, in a later age, from tradition.

So Virgil,

[268]QUEST is a term properly belonging to Romance, importing the expedition in which the knight is en⯑gag'd, and which he is oblig'd to perform. It is a very common word with Spenſer.

The uſe which the poet here makes of Proteus's power of changing his ſhape, is artful enough.

[269]Virelayes are often mention'd by Chaucer, and our old poets. G. Gaſcoigne, in his Defence of rhyme, gives [270] this account of Virelayes. ‘"There is an old kinde of rhyme called VERLAYES, deriv'd, as I have redde, of the worde verde which betokeneth greene, and laye which betokeneth a ſong, as if you would ſay GREENE SONGES. But I muſt tell you by the way, that I never redde any verſe which I ſaw by autho⯑ritie called VERLAY, but one; and that was a long diſcourſe in verſes of tenne ſillabeles, whereof the four firſt did rhyme acroſs; and the fyfth did an⯑ſwere to the fyrſt and thyrde, breaking off there, and ſo going on to another termination. Of this I could ſhew example of imitation, in myne owne verſes written to the right honourable the Lorde Grey of Wilton."’ E. G.

Virgil tells us, that Helen, while Troy was burning, hid herſelf for fear.

Spenſer's lines put me in mind of a thought in one of Daniel's ſonnets, which ſeems to be copied by Waller.

Daniel here alludes to a circumſtance related of Nero; and Waller ſeems to have imitated Daniel's applica⯑tion of it.

Here is a metaphor taken from hawking; a diver⯑ſion highly faſhionable in our author's age, to which he frequently alludes, and from whence he has drawn a very great number of compariſons. The hawk's bells are mention'd afterwards,

Mr. Jortin obſerves, that Spenſer (to the beſt of his knowledge) never uſes verſes of ſix feet, except in the laſt line of the ſtanza, and in this place. But he had forgot theſe inſtances,

Again,

We meet with an Alexandrine in the Samſon Ago⯑niſtes, which I believe was not left ſo by the author.

The preceding line is,

Perhaps we ſhould read,

CONCENTED, from the ſubſtantive concent, which we meet in our author.

And in Virgil's Gnat,

Probably in the Epithalamion, where Spenſer is ſpeaking of many birds ſinging together,

Inſtead of conſent, we ſhould read CONCENT. Milton uſes the word in his poem, at a ſolemn muſic,

[274] As it has been reſtor'd inſtead of content, upon the beſt authority, by Dr. Newton, in his late very uſe⯑ful edition of Milton's poetical works. ‘B. iv. C. iii. S. i.’Speaking of mankind,

This recalls to my memory a beautiful image of Sackvill, in his INDUCTION to THE MIRROR OF MA⯑GISTRATES concerning the figure of OLD AGE.

which perhaps is not more expreſſive than Chaucer's repreſentation of ELDE, or old age. After telling us that Diſtreſs, Sickneſs, &c. always abide in her court, and are her ſenators, he adds,

Death's door was a common phraſe, and occurs in our tranſlation of the pſalms. ‘"They were even hard at death's door."^†’

SHINE is likewiſe us'd as a ſubſtantive in Harring⯑ton's Arioſto,

[275] And in our tranſlation of the pſalms, ‘"His lighten⯑ings gave SHINE unto the world."^†’

The ſame mode of ſpeaking occurrs in the verſe which is the burden of the ſong in the Prothalamion.

i. e. ‘"Approaching, near at hand."’

LARE is a Saxon word for bed. It is us'd by Milton.

Yet it here ſeems to be us'd for paſture or graſs; in which however a bed may be made. So again be⯑low, S. 51.

i. e. (I ſuppoſe) lies there on the graſs,

[276] The ſquire of lo degree, is the title of an old ro⯑mance, mention'd together with Sir Huon of Bor⯑deaux; which, as we remark'd before, is ſpoken of among a catalogue of antient books, in the letter concerning Q. Elizabeth's entertainment at Kenel⯑worth.

The releaſing of the priſoners is a ceremony con⯑ſtantly practiſed in romance, after the knight has kill'd the giant, and taken poſſeſſion of his caſtle.

Scudamore is a name deriv'd from Scudo, a ſhield, and Amore, Love, Ital. becauſe in this Canto, S. 10. he wins the SHIELD OF LOVE.

I ſuppoſe he means ‘"Elſe the waters would overflow the lands, and fire devoure the air, and hell would [277] entirely devoure both waters and lands."’ But this is a moſt confuſed conſtruction.

Dryden has adopted the expreſſion MOTHER-WIT from our author, in his Ode on Caecilia's day,

I think it occurrs likewiſe in Donne.

Shamefaſtneſs, if I remember right, is introduc'd as a perſon in Lidgate's ſtory of Thebes.

Holland (ſays Selden, in his notes on Drayton's Polyolb. S. 8.) is the maritime part of Lincolnſhire, where the river Welland flows. By the old Sawes the poet hints at a propheſy of Merlin,

VADA BOUM, i. e. Oxenford or Oxford; VADA SAXI, i. e. Staneford, or Stamford.

So, in Colin Clouts come home again,

This compariſon has great propriety. There is one not much unlike it in Lucretius.

The circumſtance of the calf fallen into the pit, from whence the mother can only hear him complain, finely heightens this parental diſtreſs, and that of her walking round the pit ſo often, I think exceeds the crebra reviſit ad ſtabulum; and it may be obſerv'd, upon the whole, that the tenderneſs of Spenſer's tem⯑per remarkably betrays itſelf on this occaſion.

Chryſaor is the name of Sir Arthegall's ſword. Swords are often nam'd in Romance; and in Arioſ⯑to's Orlando Furioſo; as, Orlando's Durindana, Renaldo's Fuſberta, Rogero's Baliſarda, &c.

That is, ‘"That I might ſuffer what ſhe did."’ Theſe words ſeem to be a very improper imitation of a paſ⯑ſage in the New Teſtament, which every ſerious reader cannot but remember with the greateſt reverence.

So again,

[280]The proverb of getting any thing by hooke or by crooke is ſaid to have ariſen in the time of Charles I. when there were two learned Judges, nam'd HOOKE and CROOKE; and a difficult cauſe was to be gotten ei⯑ther by HOOKE or by CROOKE. But here is a proof that this proverb is much older than that time.

When the falſe Florimel is plac'd by the ſide of the true Florimel, the former vaniſhes into nothing; and as ſuddenly, ſays the poet, as all the glorious colours of the rain-bow fade and periſh. With regard to the circumſtance of the ſudden evaneſcence in each, the compariſon is juſt and elegant: but if we conſider, that a rainbow exiſts by the preſence of the ſun, the ſimilitude by no means is made out: however, it is the former of theſe circumſtances only which the poet inſiſts upon, ſo that a partial correſpondence only is expected. ‘B. v. C. iii. S. xxxiv.’Of Brigadore,

This is related of Alexander's horſe Bucephalus. ‘B. v. C. iv. S. xlii.’Of an Eagle,

Sails are often us'd by our author for wings, and af⯑ter him by Milton. And by Fletcher,

[281] Again, by our author,

Thus Bayardo, in Arioſto, fights with a monſtrous bird, whoſe wings are like two fails.

Satan's ſhield is compar'd to the moon.^* But to the moon as ſeen through a teleſcope.

This is ſuch a picture as Propertius gives us,

The Aegis is repreſented with the ſame effect on horſes, in Val. Flaccus.

Why does he call Hippolitus curſed? Neither was Hippolitus torn in pieces by his own horſes, but by a monſter ſent by Neptune, as Euripides relates, Hipp. Cor. 1220. and other authors. In this account of the [283] death of Hippolitus, he greatly varies from himſelf, 1. 5. 37, & ſeq.

Here Spenſer paints from the manners of his own age. In his age the cuſtom of a

was not entirely dropt. one of the officers at theſe ſolemnities was ſtyl'd the marſhall of the hall: An office which Chaucer tells us, his hoſt at the tabard was very well qualified for.

As the gueſts at theſe pompous and public feſtivals were very numerous, and of various conditions, I ſuppoſe the buſineſs of this office, was to place every one according to his rank, and to keep peace and order.

Spenſer frequently uſes the expreſſion Kings and Keſars.

It is a very antient form of ſpeaking, and is found in the Viſions of Pierce Plowman.

It was not unfamiliar in B. Johnſon's time; thus,

It occurrs likewiſe in Harrington's Arioſto.

‘B. v. C. ix. S. xxxv.’ The horſes of the ſun,

BRIM is often us'd for margin or bank of a ſtream by [285] our author, and the old poets. Alſo by Milton in Comus,

FOUNTAIN-brim ſeems to have been a common preſſion. It is us'd by Drayton,

And in Warner's Albion's England,

We have ocean-BRIM in the Paradiſe-loſt,

We are apt to conceive ſomething very wonderful of thoſe myſterious things which are thus ſaid to be unknown to us, and to be out of the reach and com⯑paſs of man's knowledge and apprehenſion. Thus a cave is ſaid to be,

If the poet had limited the depth of this cave to a very great, but to a certain number of fathom, the imagi⯑nation [286] could ſtill have ſuppos'd and added more; but now as no determinate meaſure of its depth is aſſign'd, our imagination is left at liberty to exert its utmoſt arbitrary ſtretch, to add fathom to fathom, and depth to depth, till it is loſt in it's own attempt to graſp the idea of that which is unbounded or infinite.

It ſhould rather be ‘"tumbling SENSELESSE downe."’ We have the ſame metathetical form again,

Where humbled ſhould be made to agree with he ra⯑ther than with graſs.

Spenſer undoubtedly wrote,

The y in dreadfully being ſlur'd, or cut off. So.

There are many other inſtances of the Caeſura of this letter, in our author, as likewiſe in Milton. In the following verſe e in idle is ſunk.

In this verſe,

there is an ellipſis of IT before ſeem'd, and of HE be⯑fore could; and rive ſhould have been RIV'D, unleſs he wrote it rive for RIVEN.

St. Paul to the Corinthians,^* ‘"For now we ſee through a glaſs; darkly."’

Aladine is brought home dead upon a bier to his father Aldus, who burſts out into theſe exclamations over his ſon's body; In like manner Evander mourns over his ſon Pallas,

But theſe exclamations are ſomewhat ſimilar to thoſe which Aeneas in the ſame book utters over Pallas,

Softing-foot is a typographical blunder which, I think, runs through all the editions for SOFT-FOOTING; William Ponſonby's edition in quarto, 1596, not excepted.

That is the hermit had been, &c. Many of the her⯑mits in romance are repreſented to have been very valorous knights in their youth. Hence it is that Don Quixote is introduced gravely debating with Sancho, whether he ſhall turn ſaint or archbiſhop.

So,

So in an hymne of love,

And Chaucer,

[289] We meet with ſomething like this in our old metrical verſion of the firſt pſalm.

This is ſaid in honour of hawking, which (as I be⯑fore hinted) was a very faſhionable and courtly diver⯑ſion in Spenſer's time. And for the ſame reaſon, and ſomewhat after the ſame manner, he particularizes the falcon, in the ſpeech of the Genius of Verulam.

CHILDING is us'd in Chaucer for conceiving, viz.

‘B. vi. C. xii. S. xxiii. &c.’

His deſcription of the Blatant Beaſt (under which is ſhadow'd ſcandal or calumny) attacking all ranks of life, and making havock in courts, monaſteries, and cottages, is exactly like this paſſage in the Lin⯑gua of Eraſmus, ‘"Circumferat quiſque oculos ſuos, per domos privatas, per collegia, per monaſteria, per aulas principum, per civitates, per regna; & com⯑pendio [290] diſcet, quantam ubique peſtem ingerat LINGUA CALUMNIATRIX."^*’

In the age of the poet, tapeſtry was the moſt faſhionable furniture of halls and ſtate-rooms; as it was when Milton wrote his Comus, who mentions tapeſtry as a circumſtance of grandeur.

As the general faſhion of furniſhing halls, &c. is at preſent entirely different from this, the reader paſſes over the expreſſion, TAPESTRY-HALLS, without feel⯑ing any idea convey'd to him by it, becauſe the ob⯑ject from whence it is drawn, does not at preſent exiſt: and we may obſerve, from this paſſage, how much of their force and propriety both expreſſions and deſcriptions muſt neceſſarily loſe, when the ob⯑jects, or cuſtoms, or manners, to which they allude, are out of uſe, and forgotten. There is another re⯑ference to tapeſtry in Milton, which is equally un⯑meaning to a modern reader,

He ſeems here to have intended a ſatirical ſtroke againſt the Puritans, who were a prevailing party in the age of Queen Elizabeth; and, indeed, our au⯑thor, from his profeſſion, had ſome reaſon to declare himſelf their enemy, as poetry was what they parti⯑cularly ſtigmatiz'd, and bitterly inveigh'd againſt. In the year 1579, one Stephen Goſſon wrote a pamphlet, with this title, ‘"The Schoole of Abuſe, containing a pleaſaunt invective againſt poets, pipers, plaiers, jeſters, and ſuch-like caterpillers of a common⯑wealth."’ This was ſoon follow'd by many others of the ſame kind.

But the moſt ridiculous treatiſe of this ſort was that written many years afterwards by W. Prynne; as a ſpecimen of which, I ſhall beg leave to entertain the reader with its title-page. ‘"HISTRIOMASTIX, the Players Scourge, or Actors Tragedie, divided into two parts; wherein it is largely evidenced by divers arguments, by the concurring authorities, and reſolutions of ſundry texts of Scripture; of the whole primitive Church, both under the law and goſpel; of fifty-five Synods and Councils, of ſeventy-one Fathers, and Chriſtian writers, before the year of our Lord 1200; of above one hundred and fifty foraigne and domeſtic proteſtant and po⯑piſh authors ſince; of forty heathen philoſophers, hiſtorians, poets; of many heathen, many chriſtian [292] nations, republicks, emperors, princes, magiſtrates; of ſundry apoſtolical, canonical, imperial conſtitu⯑tions, and of our own Engliſh ſtatutes, magiſtrates, univerſities, writers, preachers.—That popular ſtage-playes (the very pompes of the devil, which we renounce in baptiſme, if we believe the Fathers) are ſinfull, heatheniſh, lewd, ungodly ſpectacles, and moſt pernicious corruptions; condemned in all ages as intolerable miſchiefes, to churches, to re⯑publicks, the manners, mindes, and ſoules of men: and that the profeſſion of play-poets, of ſtage-play⯑ers, together with the penning, acting, and fre⯑quenting of ſtage-playes, are unlawfull, infamous, and miſbeſeeming chriſtians: all pretences to the contrary are here likewiſe fully anſwer'd; and the unlawfullneſs of acting, of beholding academical enterludes briefly diſcuſſed; beſides ſundry other particulars concerning dancing, dicing, health-drinking, &c. London, 1633.’

This extravagant and abſurd ſpirit of puritanical enthuſiaſm, proved at laſt, in its effects, as perni⯑cious to polite learning, and the fine arts, as to the liberties and conſtitution of our country: while every ſpecies of elegance was repreſented, by theſe auſtere and melancholy zealots, as damnable luxury, and every degree of decent adoration, as popiſh idolatry. In ſhort, it is not ſufficiently conſider'd, what a rapid and national progreſs we were, at that time, making in knowledge, and how ſudden a ſtop was put to it, by the inundation of preſbyterianiſm and ignorance; which circumſtance alone, excluſive of its other at⯑tendant [293] evils, gives us ample cauſe to deteſt the pro⯑moters of that malignant (I wiſh I could add, un⯑provok'd) rebellion, which no good man can remem⯑ber without horror.

It may not, perhaps, be impertinent to remark here, that Milton, who was inclin'd to puritaniſm, had good reaſon to think, that the publication of his Samſon Agoniſtes, would be very offenſive to his brethren, who held poetry, and particularly that of the dramatic kind, in ſuch abhorrence. And, upon this account, it is probable, that, in order to excuſe him⯑ſelf for having engag'd in this proſcrib'd and forbid⯑den ſpecies of writing, he thought it expedient to pre⯑fix to his play a formal DEFENCE OF TRAGEDY, in which he endeavours to prove, that ſome of the graveſt writers did not ſcruple to illuſtrate their diſ⯑courſes from the works of tragic poets, and that many of the wiſeſt philoſophers, and of the primitive fathers, were not aſham'd to write Tragedies.

The ſubſequent remarks are thrown together with⯑out order, which the reader is deſir'd to look upon as a SUPPLEMENT to this concluding SECTION.

Hughes reads, IF Bacchus', &c. but even then there is an obſcurity. The meaning of the paſſage is this. ‘"He wonders what makes them ſo glad; he [294] doubts with himſelf, whether or no their mirth was not occaſion'd by wine which they had diſco⯑ver'd, or whether or no they might not be driven to madneſs by Cybel's rites."’ INVENT is here one of Spenſer's latiniſms for diſcover; as it is alſo in this verſe,

That is, found out.

Charm is thus us'd again, as Mr. Jortin obſerves, in Colin Clouts come home again.

It ſeems to be us'd ſomewhat in the ſame ſenſe, St. 39. below.

Again,

Ayrie WIDE ſeems to be us'd for ayrie VOID. ‘[295] B. vii. C. vi. S. lv.’Speaking of Diana's departure from Ireland.

In Colin Clouts come home again, where he is praiſing England, he does it by an enumeration of ſome of the miſeries of Ireland.

Space is a latiniſm, ſpatiari.

Sir Guyon's temptation is, in great meaſure, made to conſiſt in the gratifications of ſenſe afforded by a delicious garden. This circumſtance puts me in mind [296] of an inſtance related by Olaus Magnus,^* concerning the ſeverity of manners among the antient Viſigoths. This author informs us, that on the top of the moun⯑tain Kindaberg, near the caſtle of the ſame name, there was a beautiful garden, the moſt delicious ſpot of ground in all the Northern climate. Into this gar⯑den none but old men were permitted to enter. The admiſſion of young men to a ſurvey of ſo delightfull a ſcene, it was fear'd, might prove too great a relaxa⯑tion from their unintermitted daily diſcipline, and make ſuch impreſſions on their ſuſceptible diſpoſi⯑tions, as might be the beginnings of an effeminate and luxurious life.

HIM for HIMSELF is the language of poetry at pre⯑ſent. The elder poets took greater liberties in this point, ſo that ſometimes it is difficult to determine whether HIM is us'd for ſe or illum. Of this the verſe before us is an inſtance.

Thus again,

That is, ‘"expells ſleep from HIMSELF."’ Thus in Sydney's VISION upon the conceit of the FAERIE QUEENE, the moſt elegant of his works.

We are apt, at firſt, to refer HIM down, &c. to Petarcke, ‘"OBLIVION laid PETRARKE down,"’ While the meaning is, ‘"OBLIVION LAID HIMSELF DOWNE, &c."’

The initial line of this ſonnet ſeems to have been thought of by Milton, viz.

Thus Milton on his Deceaſed wife.^*

And he probably took the hint of writing a viſionary ſonnet on that occaſion, from this of Sydney.

PRETENDED, ‘"ſtretch'd or held over her."’ This latiniſm is to be found in Milton, but in a ſenſe ſome⯑what different.

Theſe verſes which, at firſt ſight, ſeem to be drawn rom Dido's ^* night in the fourth Aeneid, are tranſlated from the Ceiris attributed to Virgil, as it has been be⯑fore in general hinted, Sect. 3.

[300]In theſe verſes the allegory is work'd up to an amazing height. What he ſays of Erinnys in the RUINS of ROME, is ſomewhat in this ſtrain,

From the ſame ſtanza Milton probably drew the expreſſion BLIND FURY, in Lycidas; as it was not taken from the authority of antient mythology.

[302] Spenſer,

That is, ‘"in ſtrange diſguiſe."’ In this ſenſe the word QUEINT is us'd in COMUS.

Somewhat in this ſignification it is likewiſe applied by the ſhepherd Cuddy, in our author's OCTOBER.

Where E. K. in explaining it, has diſcover'd more learning than penetration. Skinner ſeems to have wrongly interpreted QUAINT, elegans. If it ever ſignifies elegant or beautifull, it implies a fantaſtic kind of beauty ariſing from an odd variety. Thus Milton in LYCIDAS, of flowers.

And in ARCADES; where it expreſſes an elegance re⯑ſulting from affectation rather than nature.

Where Milton copies Johnſon, in a MASKE at Wel⯑beck, 1633.

The ſame poet has likewiſe drawn one or two more ſtrokes in the ARCADES, from a maſk of Johnſon. In ſong 1. he thus breaks forth,

So Johnſon in an Entertainment at Althrope, 1603.

Milton in Song 3. pays this compliment to the counteſs of Derby,

Thus Johnſon in the ſame Entertainment.

Theſe little traits of likeneſs juſt lead us to con⯑clude, that Milton before he ſate down to write his ARCADES, had recourſe to Johnſon (who was the moſt eminent maſque-writer then extant) for the form and manner proper to this ſpecies of compoſition, and that in the courſe of writing it, he naturally fell upon ſome of Johnſon's expreſſions.

In theſe lines he plainly ſeems to have had his eye on thoſe exalted ^* Socratic ſentiments, which Juvenal has given us in the cloſe of his tenth ſatire. The laſt-cited lines, in particular, point out to us the ſenſe in which Spenſer underſtood the two laſt controverted verſes of that ſatire.

Probably we ſhould read ſlide for STRIDE; though STRIDE occurs in the old quarto.

Concerning the word BRAND for ſword, take the following explication of Hickes. ‘"In the ſecond [305] part of the EDDA Iſlandica, among other appella⯑tions, a ſword is denominated BRAND; and glad or glod, that is, titio, torris, pruna ignita; and the hall of the Odin is ſaid to be illuminated by drawn ſwords only. A writer of no leſs learning than penetration, N. Salanus Weſtmannus, in his Diſſer⯑tation, entitled, GLADIUS SCYTHICUS, pag. 6, 7. obſerves, that the antients formed their ſwords in imitation of a flaming fire; and thus, from BRAND a ſword, came our Engliſh phraſe, to brandiſh a ſword, gladium ſtrictum vibrando coruſcare facere."^*’ ‘B. i. C. ii. S. iv.’He is ſpeaking of the witch Dueſſa.

The penance here mention'd, I ſuppoſe, our author drew from tradition, or romance. From one of theſe ſources, Milton ſeems to have deriv'd, and applied his annual penance of the devils.

Honor dew, frequently occurs in Spenſer, from whom Milton, perhaps, adopted it in L'Allegro.

It has been conjectur'd, that Milton took the hint, in ſome meaſure, for writing on MIRTH and ME⯑LANCHOLY, from the Ode prefix'd to Burton's ME⯑LANCHOLY. In ſupport of this ſuppoſition I ſhall add, that Milton had certainly been conſulting that treatiſe before he wrote his two poems, as this line in L'Allegro,

occurs almoſt literally in Burton,^*

Before I cloſe this ſeries of Obſervations, I will hope for the reader's pardon once more, while I lengthen out this digreſſion, in order to illuſtrate another paſſage in Milton.

[307] On the words, as Sea-men tell, ſays Hume, ‘"Words well added to obviate the incredibility of caſting anchor in this manner."’

It is likely that Milton never heard this improba⯑ble circumſtance, of miſtaking the Whale for an Iland, from the ſea-men, but that he drew it from that paſ⯑ſage in his favorite Arioſto, where Aſtolpho, Dudon, and Renaldo are ſaid to have ſeen ſo large a Whale in the ſea, near Aclyna's caſtle, that they took it for an iſland.