[1]THE Grounds of Criticiſm IN POETRY.

CHAP. I. The Deſign of the following Treatiſe, is, the Reeſtabliſhment of Poetry.

THE deſign of the enſuing Treatiſe, whether we conſider the Importance or the Extent of it, is perhaps the Greateſt in this kind of Writing, that has been con⯑ceived by the Moderns; for 'tis no leſs than an Attempt to reſtore and reeſtabliſh the nobleſt Art in [2] every Branch of it; an Art that by the Barbarity of the Times is fall'n and ſunk in them all, and has been driv'n and baniſh'd from every Country excepting England alone, and is even here ſo miſerably fall'n for the moſt part by the extrava⯑gance of its Profeſſors, and by the unskilfulneſs of its Admirers, that we have reaſon to apprehend it to be departing from hence too.

That Poetry is the nobleſt of all Arts, and by conſequence the moſt inſtructive and moſt beneficial to Mankind, may be prov'd by the concording Teſtimony of the greateſt Men, who have lived in every Age; the greateſt Philoſophers, the grea⯑teſt Heroes, and the greateſt States⯑men, who have as it were unani⯑mouſly cheriſh'd, eſteem'd, admir'd it, and never has it been diſeſteem'd or neglected by any but ſome pre⯑tenders to Wiſdom, and by ſome contemptible Politicaſters, Perſons who have got into the management of Affairs only by the weakneſs of thoſe who have employ'd them, and who have utterly wanted Ca⯑pacity [3] to know what a glorious uſe may be made of it, for the benefit of civil Society: But in the ſequel of this Diſcourſe, by diſcovering the Nature of Poetry in general, (which ſeems to me to have been hitherto but little underſtood) I ſhall clearly ſhew its Excellence, and the Importance of this Under⯑taking. And by laying down ei⯑ther the general Rules of it, or by tracing out that ſublime Art, which to make uſe of Milton's Expreſſion, teaches what the Laws are of a true Epick Poem, what of a Dramatick, what of a Lyrick, what Decorum is, what is the grand Maſter-piece to obſerve. I ſhall not only lay a good Foundation for the judging of the Performance of the ſeveral Po⯑ets, whoſe Works I have underta⯑ken to examine, but ſhall as Milton ſays in his Treatiſe of Education to Mr. Hartlip, ſoon make the World perceive what deſpicable Creatures our common Rhymers and Play-Wrights are, and ſhew them what Religious, what Glorious and Mag⯑nificent Uſe may be made of Po⯑etry, [4] both in Divine and in Hu⯑man things.

CHAP. II. That Poetry is to be Eſtabli⯑ſhed, by laying down Rules.

THAT an Art ſo Divine in its Inſtitution, is ſunk and profaned, and miſerably debaſed, is a thing that is confeſt by all. But ſince Poetry is fallen from the Ex⯑cellence which it once attained to, it muſt be fallen either by the want of Parts, or want of Induſtry, or by the Errors of its Profeſſors. But that it cannot be for want of Parts, we have ſhewn clearly in the Ad⯑vancement of modern Poetry; nor can it be ſuppoſed to be for want of Induſtry, ſince ſo many of its Pro⯑feſſors have no other Dependance? It remains then that it muſt have fall'n by their Errors, and for want of being guided right. Since there⯑fore [5] 'tis for want of knowing by what Rules they ought to proceed, that Poetry is fall'n ſo low, it follows then that it is the laying down of thoſe Rules alone, that can re-eſtab⯑liſh it. In ſhort, Poetry is either an Art, or Whimſie and Fanaticiſm. If it is an Art, it follows that it muſt propoſe an end to it ſelf, and after⯑wards lay down proper Means for the attaining that end: For this is undeniable, that there are proper Means for the attaining of every end, and thoſe proper Means in Po⯑etry, we call the Rules. Again, if the end of Poetry be to inſtruct and reform the World, that is, to bring Mankind from Irregularity, Extra⯑vagance and Confuſion, to Rule and Order, how this ſhould be done by a thing that is in it ſelf irregular and extravagant, is difficult to be con⯑ceived. Beſides, the work of every reaſonable Creature muſt derive its Beauty from Regularity, for Reaſon is Rule and Order, and nothing can be irregular either in our Concepti⯑ons or our Actions, any further than it ſwerves from Rule, that is, from [6] Reaſon. As Man is the more perfect, the more he reſembles his Creator: The Works of Man muſt needs be more perfect, the more they reſemble his Makers. Now the Works of God tho' infinitely various, are extream⯑ly regular.

The Univerſe is regular in all its Parts, and it is to that exact Regularity that it owes its admi⯑rable Beauty. The Microcoſm owes the Beauty and Health both of its Body and Soul to Order, and the De⯑formity and Diſtempers of both, to nothing but the want of Order. Man was created like the reſt of the Crea⯑tures, regular, and as long as he re⯑mained ſo he continued happy; but as ſoon as he fell from his Primitive State, by tranſgreſſing Order, Weak⯑neſs and Miſery was the immediate Conſequence of that Univerſal Diſ⯑order that immediately followed.in his Conceptions, in his Paſſions and Actions.

The great deſign of Arts is to reſtore the decays that happen'd to Humane Nature by the Fall, by reſtoring Order: The deſign of [7] Logick is to bring back Order, and Rule, and Method to our Con⯑ceptions, the want of which cauſes moſt of our Ignorance, and all our Errors. The deſign of moral Phy⯑loſophy is to cure the diſorder that is found in our Paſſions, from which proceeds all our Unhappineſs, and all our Vice; as from the due order that is ſeen in them, comes all our Ver⯑tue and all our Pleaſure. But how ſhould theſe Arts reeſtabliſh Order, unleſs they themſelves were Regu⯑lar? Thoſe Arts that make the Sen⯑ſes inſtrumental to the Pleaſure of the Mind, as Painting and Muſick, do it by a great deal of Rule and Order, ſince therefore Poetry com⯑prehends the force of all theſe Arts of Logick, of Ethicks, of Eloquence, of Painting, of Muſick; can any thing be more ridiculous than to imagine, that Poetry it ſelf ſhould be without Rule and Or⯑der?

CHAP. III. What Poetry is, and that it attains its end by exciting of Paſſion.

WE have ſaid above, that as Poetry is an Art, it muſt have a certain end, and that there muſt be means that are proper for the attaining that end, which means are otherwiſe call'd the Rules: But that we may make this appear the more plainly, let us declare what Poetry is. Poetry then is an Art, by which a Poet excites Paſſion (and for that very cauſe entertains Senſe) in order to ſatisfie and improve, to delight and reform the Mind, and ſo to make Mankind happier and better; from which it appears that Poetry has two Ends, a ſubordinate and a final one, the ſubordinate one is Pleaſure, and the final one is In⯑ſtruction.

[9] Firſt, The ſubordinate end of Poe⯑try is to pleaſe, for that Pleaſure is the buſineſs and deſign of Poetry is evi⯑dent, becauſe Poetry unleſs it pleaſes, nay and pleaſes to a height, is the moſt contemptible thing in the World; other things may be born with if they are indifferent, but Poetry unleſs it is tranſporting is abominable: nay it has only the Name of Poetry, ſo inſeparable is Pleaſure from the very nature of the Thing.

But Secondly, The final End of Poetry is to reform the Manners; as Poetry is an Art, Inſtruction muſt be its final End; but either that Inſtruction muſt conſiſt in re⯑forming the Manners, or it can⯑not inſtruct at all, and conſequent⯑ly be an Art; for Poetry pretends to no other Inſtruction as its final End: But ſince the final End of Poetry is to reform the Manners, nothing can be according to the true Art of it which is againſt Religion, or which runs counter to Moral Ver⯑tue, or to the true Politicks, and to the Liberty of Mankind; and every [10] thing which is againſt the laſt, tends to the Corruption and Deſtruction of Mankind: And conſequently eve⯑ry thing againſt the laſt, muſt be ut⯑terly inconſiſtent with the true Art of Poetry.

Now the proper Means for Poe⯑try, to attain both its ſubordinate and final End, is by exciting Paſſion. Firſt, The ſubordinate End of Poe⯑try, which is to pleaſe, is attained by exciting Paſſion, becauſe every one who is pleaſed is moved, and either deſires, or rejoices, or ad⯑mires, or hopes, or the like. As we are moved by Pleaſure which is Happineſs, to do every thing we do, we may find upon a little Reflection, That every Man is in⯑cited by ſome Paſſion or other, ei⯑ther to Action, or to Contemplation; and Paſſion is the reſult either of Action or of Contemplation, as long as either of them pleaſe, and the more either of them pleaſes, the more they are attended with Paſſion. The ſatisfaction that we receive from Geometry it ſelf comes from the joy of having found out [11] Truth, and the deſire of finding more. And the ſatiety that ſeiſes us upon too long a Lecture, pro⯑ceeds from nothing but from the wearineſs of our Spirits, and con⯑ſequently from the ceſſation or the decay of thoſe two pleaſing Paſ⯑ſions. But

Secondly, Poetry attains its final end, which is the reforming the Minds of Men, by exciting of Paſſi⯑on. And here I dare be bold to af⯑firm, that all Inſtruction whatever, depends upon Paſſion. The Moral Philoſophers themſelves, even the dryeſt of them, can never inſtruct and reform, unleſs they move; for either they make Vice odious and Vertue lovely, or they deter you from one by the Apprehenſion of Mi⯑ſery, or they incite you to the other, by the Happineſs they make you ex⯑pect from it; or they work upon your Shame, or upon your Pride, or upon your Indignation. And there⯑fore Poetry inſtructs and reforms more powerfully than Philoſophy can do, becauſe it moves more pow⯑erfully: And therefore it inſtructs [12] more eaſily too. For whereas all Men have Paſſions, and great Paſſions of one ſort or another, and whereas thoſe Paſſions will be employed, and whatever way they move, they that way draw the Man, it follows that Philoſophy can inſtruct but hardly, becauſe it moves but gently; for the violent Paſſions not finding their Ac⯑count in thoſe faint emotions, begin to rebel and fly to their old Objects, whereas Poetry at the ſame time that it inſtructs us powerfully, muſt re⯑form us eaſily; becauſe it makes the very Violence of the Paſſions contri⯑bute to our Reformation: For the generality of Mankind are apparent⯑ly ſwayed by their Paſſions, nay, and perhaps the very beſt and wiſeſt of them. The greateſt Philoſophers and the greateſt Princes are influ⯑enced by their Favourites, and ſo are the wiſeſt Magiſtrates. And 'tis for this reaſon that not only the Devil, who muſt be ſuppos'd to underſtand human nature, corrupts Mankind by their Paſſions; (for Temptation is nothing but the inclining Men to ſuch and ſuch Actions, by the raiſ⯑ing [13] ſuch and ſuch Paſſions in them) but God himſelf, who made the Soul, and beſt underſtands its nature, con⯑verts it by its Paſſions: For whereas Philoſophy pretends to correct hu⯑man Paſſions by human Reaſon, that is, things that are ſtrong and ungo⯑vernable, by ſomething that is feeble and weak, Poetry by the force of the Paſſion, inſtructs and reforms the Reaſon; which is the Deſign of the true Religion, as we have ſhewn in another place. So that we have here already laid down one great Rule, neceſſary for the ſucceeding in Poetry: For ſince it can attain neither its ſubordinate nor its final End, without exciting of Paſſion, it fol⯑lows, that where there is nothing which directly tends to the moving of that, there can be no Poetry; and that conſequently, a Poet ought to contrive every thing in order to the moving of Paſſion, that not only the Fable, the Incidents and Characters, but the very Sentiments and the Ex⯑preſſions, ought all to be deſigned for that: For ſince Poetry pleaſes and inſtructs us more, even than [14] Philoſophy it ſelf, only becauſe it moves us more, it follows, that the more Poetry moves, the more it pleaſes and inſtructs; and it is for this reaſon that Tragedy, to thoſe who have a Taſt of it, is both more pleaſing and more inſtructing, than Comedy. And this naturally brings us to the dividing Poetry into the greater and the leſs.

1. The greater Poetry is an Art by which a Poet juſtly and reaſon⯑ably excites great Paſſion, that he may pleaſe and inſtruct, and com⯑prehends Epick, Tragick, and the greater Lyrick Poetry.

2. The leſs Poetry is an Art by which a Poet excites leſs Paſſion for the forementioned Ends; and in⯑cludes in it, Comedy and Satyr, and the little Ode, and Elegiack, and Paſtoral Poems. But firſt we ſhall treat of the former.

CHAP. IV. What the greater Poetry is, what Enthuſiaſm is.

THE greater Poetry then, is an Art by which a Poet juſtly and reaſonably excites great Paſſion, in order to pleaſe and inſtruct, and make Mankind better and happier; ſo that the firſt and grand Rule in the greater Poetry is, that a Poet muſt every where excite great Paſſi⯑on; but in ſome Branches of the greater Poetry, it is impoſſible for a Poet every where to excite in a very great degree, that which we vul⯑garly call Paſſion: As in the Ode for Example, and in the Narration of the Epick Poem. It follows then that there muſt be two ſorts of Paſſi⯑on. Firſt, That which we call Vul⯑gar Paſſion, and Secondly, Enthuſiaſm.

Firſt, Vulgar Paſſion or that which we commonly call Paſſion, is that which is moved by the Ob⯑jects [16] themſelves, or by the Idea's in the ordinary courſe of Life, I mean that common Society which we find in the World. As for Example, Anger is moved by an Affront that is offered us in our preſence, or by the relation of one; Pitty by the ſight of a mournful Object, or the relation of one; Admiration or Wonder, (the com⯑mon Paſſion I mean, for there is an Enthuſiaſtick Admiration, as we ſhall find anon) by the ſight of a ſtrange Object, or the relati⯑on of one. But

Secondly, Enthuſiaſtick Paſſion or Enthuſiaſm, is a Paſſion which is moved by the Idea's in Contem⯑plation or the Meditation of Things, that belong not to common Life: Moſt of our Thoughts in Medita⯑tion, are naturally attended with ſome ſort and ſome degree of Paſ⯑ſion, and this Paſſion if it is ſtrong I call Enthuſiaſm: Now, the En⯑thuſiaſtick Paſſions are chiefly Six, Admiration, Terror, Horror, Joy, Sadneſs, Deſire, cauſed by Idea's occuring to us in Meditation, and [17] producing the ſame Paſſions that the Objects of thoſe Idea's would raiſe in us, if they were ſet before us in the ſame Light that thoſe Idea's give us of them. And here I de⯑ſire the Reader to obſerve, that Idea's in Meditation, are often ve⯑ry different from what Idea's of the ſame Objects are, in the courſe of common Converſation. As for Example, the Sun mention'd in or⯑dinary Converſation, gives the Idea of a round flat ſhining Body, of about Two Foot Diameter. But the Sun occurring to us in Me⯑ditation, gives the Idea of a⯑vaſt and glorious Body, and the top of all the viſible Creation, and the brighteſt material Image of the Divinity. I leave the Reader there⯑fore to judge, if this Idea muſt not neceſſarily be attended with Admiration, and that Admiration I call Enthuſiaſm. So Thunder men⯑tion'd in common Converſation, gives an Idea of a black Cloud, and a great Noiſe, which makes no great Impreſſion upon us. But the Idea of it occurring in Medi⯑tation, [18] ſets before us the moſt for⯑cible, moſt reſiſtleſs, and conſe⯑quently the moſt dreadful Phaeno⯑menon in Nature: So that this I⯑dea muſt move a great deal of Terror in us, and 'tis this ſort of Terror that I call Enthuſiaſm. And 'tis this ſort of Terror, or Ad⯑miration, or Horror, and ſo of the reſt, which expreſt in Poetry, make that Spirit, that Paſſion, and that Fire which ſo wonderfully pleaſe.

Thus there are two ſorts of Paſſions to be rais'd in Poetry, the Vulgar and the Enthuſiaſtick, to which laſt, the Vulgar is prefera⯑ble, becauſe all Men are capable of being moved by the Vulgar, and a Poet writes to all: But the Enthuſiaſtick are more ſubtle, and Thouſands have no feeling and no notion of them; but where the Vulgar cannot be moved in a great degree, there the Enthuſiaſtick are to be rais'd. Therefore in thoſe parts of Epick Poetry, where the Poet ſpeaks himſelf, or the Eldeſt of the Muſes for him, the Enthu⯑ſiaſtick [19] Paſſions are to prevail, as likewiſe in the greater Ode. And the Vulgar Paſſions are to prevail in thoſe parts of an Epick and Dramatick Poem, where the Poet introduces Perſons holding Conver⯑ſation together. And perhaps this might be one Reaſon, for which Ariſtotle might prefer Tragedy to Epick Poetry, becauſe the Vulgar Paſſions prevail more in it, and are more violently mov'd in it, and therefore Tragedy muſt ne⯑ceſſarily both pleaſe, and inſtruct more generally than Epick Poetry. We ſhall then treat of the Vulgar Paſſions when we come to ſpeak of Tragedy, in which Poem they ought moſt to prevail; We ſhall then more particularly ſhew the ſureſt and moſt powerful ways of raiſing Compaſſion and Terror, which are the true Tragical Paſ⯑ſions.

We ſhall at preſent treat of the Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions, and how they are to be rais'd. We have taken notice above that they are to be mov'd by Idea's occurring [20] in Contemplation, that they are to be mov'd in a great degree, and yet juſtly and reaſonably. We ſhall now ſhew that the ſtrongeſt En⯑thuſiaſtick Paſſions, that are juſtly and reaſonably rais'd, muſt be rais'd by religious Idea's, that is, by Idea's which either ſhew the attributes of the Divinity, or relate to his Wor⯑ſhip. And this we ſhall endea⯑vour to prove, 1ſt. by Reaſon; 2ly. by Authority; 3ly. by Ex⯑amples.

Firſt, We ſhall endeavour to prove it by Reaſon. Since the fore⯑ſaid Paſſions are to be moved in a great Degree, and are to be moved by their Idea's, it follows, That to be juſtly and reaſonably moved, they muſt be moved by great Idea's. And therefore the ſtronger the Enthuſiaſm is, the greater muſt the Idea's be. Now thoſe Idea's are certainly the grea⯑teſt, which are worthieſt to move the greateſt and the wiſeſt Men: For there the Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions in Poetry are truly admirable, when [21] the greater and more violent they are, the more they ſhow the large⯑neſs of Soul, and greatneſs of Ca⯑pacity of the Writer. For Men are moved for Two Reaſons, either becauſe they have weak Minds and Souls, that are capable of being moved by little Objects, and con⯑ſequently by little and ordinary Idea's; or becauſe they have great⯑neſs of Soul and Capacity, to diſ⯑cern and feel the great ones; for the Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions being caus'd by the Idea's, it follows, That the more the Soul is capable of receiving Idea's whoſe Objects are truly great and wonderful, the greater will the Enthuſiaſm be that is caus'd by thoſe Idea's; From whence it follows, that the greater the Soul is, and the larger the Ca⯑pacity, the more will it be moved by religious Idea's; which are not only great and wonderful, but which almoſt alone are great and won⯑derful to a great and wiſe Man; and which never fail to move ve⯑ry ſtrongly, unleſs it is for want of due Reflection, or want of Ca⯑pacity in the Subject.

[22] Since therefore the Enthuſiaſm in the greater Poetry, is to hold Proportion with the Idea's, and thoſe Idea's are certainly the great⯑eſt, which are worthieſt to move the greateſt and the wiſeſt Men; and Divine Idea's or Idea's which ſhew the Attributes of God, or re⯑late to his Worſhip, are worthieſt to move the greateſt and the wi⯑ſeſt Men; becauſe ſuch Idea's be⯑long to Objects which are only truly above them, and conſequent⯑ly truly Admirable, Deſirable, Joy⯑ful, Terrible, &c. it follows, That the greateſt and ſtrongeſt Enthuſi⯑aſm that can be imploy'd in Poetry, is only juſtly and reaſonably to be derived from Religious Idea's.

But here we deſire the Reader's leave to make this Obſervation, That ſince Religious and Divine Idea's, or Idea's which shew the Attributes, or relate to the Wor⯑ſhip of the Divinity, are the wor⯑thieſt to move the greateſt and the wiſeſt Men; and the greater and wiſer the Men are, the more they muſt move and raiſe them: As for Ex⯑ample, [23] The greater and more com⯑prehenſive the Soul is, which re⯑flects upon the Idea of God, the more that Idea muſt fill that Soul with Admiration; it follows, That as great Paſſion, only is the ade⯑quate Language of the greater Po⯑etry; ſo the greater Poetry, is on⯑ly the adequate Language of Reli⯑gion; and that therefore the great⯑eſt Paſſion, is the Language of that ſort of Poetry; becauſe that ſort of Poetry is the worthieſt Language of Religion.

But Secondly, We ſhall proceed to prove by Authority, That the ſtrongeſt Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions in Poetry, are only juſtly and reaſon⯑ably to be rais'd by Religious I⯑dea's: And this we ſhall ſhow by the Authority of the greateſt Cri⯑ticks among the Antients, Ariſtotle, Hermogenes, and Longinus.

Firſt, Ariſtotle ſays, in the third Book of his Rhetorick, Cap. II. and III. That the frequent uſe of Me⯑taphors, Dialects, Epithets, is a great deal fitter for Poetry than it [24] is for Proſe, becauſe they are the Language of Paſſion, and Poetry is more Paſſionate or more Enthu⯑ſiaſtick than Proſe, for this Reaſon, becauſe the Perſons and the Things of which Poetry treats, are many degrees above thoſe which are the Subjects of Proſe. Now all the World knows that the Graecians, treated of the greateſt Human Per⯑ſons and Things in their Proſe, but that Poetry was a Language which they reſerv'd for their Gods, and for the Things which related to them. And I am apt to believe, that Po⯑etry from hence was called, the Language of the Gods, becauſe when ever the Graecians in the Poetical times, introduc'd their God's Speak⯑ing, they were ſure to ſpeak in Verſe. But

Secondly, Hermogenes, in the VI. Chapter of the Firſt Book of his Treatiſe, concerning the Forms of Speech, tells us, That there are Four kind of Thoughts or Idea's, or Conceptions, which were proper to give that elevation and gravity to a Diſcourſe, which by their uni⯑on [25] compoſe that quality in Wri⯑ting which we call Majeſty.

1. The Firſt and Principal of them are, all ſuch Thoughts or Idea's of God, as are worthy of the Divi⯑nity, not like ſome of the Home⯑rical Conceptions of Jupiter, which ſays Hermogenes, being more Hu⯑man than Divine, and unworthy of the Divinity, are contrary to true Majeſty.

2. Next to theſe the Concep⯑tions which give Elevation and Gravity, and conſequently Majeſty to a Diſcourſe, are ſuch Thoughts or Idea's concerning the Works of God, as are worthy the Divine Workmanſhip.

3. The Third ſort of Conceptions are, of ſuch Things as are indeed themſelves Divine, but they are ſuch Emanations of Divinity, as are to be ſeen in Men, as Juſtice, Temperance, Fortitude, Nature, Law and the like, to which may be added, Number, Power and Might.

4. The Fourth ſort are, of Things that indeed are Human, but are [26] reputed Great and Illuſtrious, as, Conqueſt, Riches, Nobility, Place, &c. But here I deſire the Reader to obſerve, That Hermogenes is here ſpeaking concerning Peices of Elo⯑quence, and ſuch Diſcourſes as are writ in Proſe; for it is certain, that theſe laſt Idea's as they are of Things that are meerly Human, can never afford the greateſt Spirit that can be imploy'd in Poetry. For as the Objects themſelves are not truly great, becauſe, as Longinuus ſays, A Man who has it in his Power to poſſeſs them, ſhows him⯑ſelf Great by contemning them: It is impoſſible that a Spirit that is very great, can flow from theſe Idea's, becauſe the Spirit that is very great, muſt hold proportion with its Idea's, as the Idea's muſt with their Objects; and therefore theſe Idea's cannot be great, becauſe their Objects are not great. We ought now in the Third Place, to proceed to the Authority of Longi⯑nus. But that we may Diverſifie this Treatiſe the more, and make it the more entertaining, we ſhall [27] firſt ſhew Examples of the ſeveral kinds of the foremention'd Thoughts, producing that ſort of Spirit in Po⯑etry which we call Enthuſiaſtick Admiration, and that we may ſhow the Reader more plainly how that Spirit is produc'd, we ſhall ſet be⯑fore him as near as we can, ſuch kind of Thoughts as inſpire the Soul with Admiration alone, un⯑complicated with Terror, or any other Paſſion.

Theſe Thoughts, or Idea's, which produce that Enthuſiaſm which we call Admiration, are Thoughts or Idea's which hold ſome proportion with ſuch Objects, as in their Na⯑ture are truly admirable. Thoſe Thoughts or Idea's are of Two ſorts, Idea's of Sounds, and Idea's of Things. We ſhall then have occaſion to treat of Idea's of Sounds, when we come to ſpeak of Ter⯑rour, and ſome of the other En⯑thuſiaſtick Paſſions; we ſhall at preſent treat of ſuch Idea's of Things,, as are proper to excite Admiration.

[28] We have ſhown that Hermoge⯑nes in the firſt Rank of theſe, reckons thoſe Thoughts and Idea's of God, that are worthy of the Creator: Such is the Invocation of Milton, in the beginning of Para⯑diſe Loſt.

And that it was theſe Divine Idea's, that rais'd his Soul and fill'd it with Admiration, and with a noble Greatneſs, which Paſſion ex⯑preſt, makes the greatneſs of the [29] Spirit, the Reader who goes back to the beginning of the Poem, will find no manner of room to doubt. For Milton, like a Maſter, begins with a gentle Spirit, which he con⯑tinues for the Twelve firſt Lines: In the Thirteenth where he ſpeaks of the boldneſs of his Attempt, he begins to riſe; and in the Nineteenth, where he talks of the Power of the Holy Ghoſt, he is quite upon the Wing.

And ſuch are the Thoughts con⯑cerning God, which are ſpread thro' that Divine Dialogue, between God and Adam, in the Eighth Book of the ſame Poem; I believe the Reader, will pardon the length if I repeat it, which I am very much inclin'd to do, not only becauſe I challenge the moſt zealous admirers of Antiquity, to produce any thing like it, from among all the Dia⯑logues in Homer and Virgil, that are between either a God or a Man, or between one God and another: [30] But becauſe the Reader who ſees the inequalities in it, will eaſily ſee that it derives its greatneſs and its ſublimity, from the becoming Thoughts which it has of the Dei⯑ty. That the Reader may through⯑ly underſtand it, without turning to the Book, the occaſion of it is this. Adam, relating the Hiſtory of the Creation to the Angel Ra⯑phael, tells him, how after he had given Names to the Birds and the Beaſts, which God had brought before him for that purpoſe; he who underſtood their Natures, and ſaw none of them was fit for his Converſation, deſir'd of God in the following Words, a Partner fit for Humane Society.

Here by the way, I deſire the Reader to obſerve, how the Spirit of the Poem ſinks, when Adam comes from God, to himſelf; and how it riſes again, when he returns to his Creator: But let us proceed to God's reply.

The Reader may eaſily ſee, that here is all that is great and ſu⯑blime in Reaſon, expreſt with the Spirit of that juſt Admiration, with which ſuch worthy Thoughts of the [34] Deity muſt naturally fill the Soul. But now let us ſee Adam's An⯑ſwer.

What Milton ſaith of the Son of God Hymn'd by the Angels, in the Third Book of that Poem, is very Lofty and Elevated.

I have the rather mention'd theſe Verſes, to ſhow that Milton was a little tainted with Socinianiſm, for by the firſt Verſe 'tis evident, that he look't upon the Son of God as a Created Being. The laſt Thing that I ſhall mention is, what God ſays of Himſelf, in the Seventh Book, for ſpeaking of Chaos, he ſays, that is boundleſs becauſe He is infinite.

I could add an infinite number of Examples, if it were not alto⯑gether [37] needleſs, for what has been ſaid, may ſuffice to ſhow that a Poet who intends: to give that Elevation, and that Gravity to his Poem; which Compoſe Majeſty can fetch his Ideas from no Object ſo proper as from God. For as great Elevation muſt be produced by a great Admi⯑ration, as every Paſſion which the Poet excites, ought to be juſt and Reaſonable, and Adapted to its Ob⯑ject, it is impoſſible that any one, who is not ſtupid, can ſeriouſly con⯑template his Maker, but that his Soul muſt be exalted and lifted up towards its Primitive Objects, and be fill'd and inſpired with the higheſt Admiration. For 'tis then that the Enthuſiaſm in Poetry is Wonderful and Divine, when it ſhows the Ex⯑cellence of the Authors diſcernment, and the largeneſs of his Soul; now all the Ideas of God are ſuch, that the more large and comprehenſive the Soul of a Poet is; and the more it is capable of Receiving thoſe Idea's the more is it ſure to be raiſed and fill'd and lifted to the Skies with won⯑der; The Spirit or the Paſſion in [38] Poetry ought to be proportioned to the Ideas, and the Ideas to the Ob⯑ject, and when it is not ſo it is ut⯑terly falſe. And therefore when ever in Poetry there is a great Spirit which is derived from Ideas, whoſe Objects are unworthy to move the Soul of a great and a wise Man, there that Spirit is either falſe or at leaſt has nothing ſublimely, admirable in it. But nothing but God, and what relates to God, is worthy to move the Soul of a great and a wiſe Man. But let us proceed to conſider the glorious works of the Creator, which next to Himſelf are worthy to move with Admiration, all who are worthy to be called wise, becauſe theſe when they are reflected upon, by the Great and the Wise, never fail to declare his Eternal Power and Godhead. Our Religion tells us that the firſt, the Greateſt and moſt Glorious of His works are the Angels, who whe⯑ther we conſider their Power, their Swiftneſs, their Science, or their Sanctity, are fit Objects of our Ad⯑miration and Conſequently of Lofty [39] and Elevated Poetry. Let us ſee then how Taſſo deſcribes the Angel Gabriel and his deſcent, in the firſt Canto of the Hyeruſalemme.

And thus it is tranſlated by Fairfax, who tho' he by no means ſheweth all the Spirit and Beauty of the Original, yet even in his Antiquated Verſion, he diſcovers ſomething of them.

But let us now conſider, Michael's Deſcent in the Night, in the Ninth Canto of the Hieruſalemme.

[42] Which in Engliſh is as follows,

Where the Reader may take no⯑tice, that the Compariſon of the Sun, to Michael the Prince of the Arch-Angels, is extreamly Juſt and Noble, becauſe the top of the Viſible, is admirably liken'd to the top of the inviſible Creation: But in the two laſt Verſes, Taſſo has injudici⯑ouſly been guilty of an Anticlimax. But now let us ſee how Milton de⯑ſcribes the Deſcent of Raphael to Paradiſe, in the fifth Book of Pa⯑radiſe loſt.

Thus the Reader may ſee by what has been ſaid, that the Idea's of An⯑gels are exceeding proper to raiſe En⯑thuſiaſtick Admiration, as being the moſt glorious and Admirable Beings of the Creation, and which lead the Soul immediately to its Creator. Next to theſe come the other Crea⯑tures of the Immaterial World as Daemons, Apparitions of all ſorts, and more particularly the Spirits of Men departed, then follow Pro⯑phecies, Viſions, Miracles, Enchant⯑ments, Prodigies, and all things which have an Immediate Relation to the wonders of another World, of moſt of which we ſhall give exam⯑ples, when we come to Speak of Terror, becauſe they are rather wonderful, than they are Admirable. We Name thoſe things wonderful which we Admire with fear.

[45] The next Ideas that are moſt proper to produce the Enthuſiaſm of Admiration, are the great Phaeno⯑mena of the Material World; becauſe they too lead the Soul to its Maker, and ſhew, as the Apoſtle ſays, his E⯑ternal Power and Godhead: As the Heavens and Heavenly Bodies, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, and the immenſity of the Univerſe, and the Motions of the Heaven and Earth. Witneſs what Milton ſays, of the Sun when he deſcribes the deſcent of Sa⯑tan from Heaven Gates to Paradiſe Lib. 3.

But to ſhow how very much theſe fall ſhort of the Immaterial Creation, a Poet that he may make them more Admirable contrives to give Spirit and Soul to them.

And in that Noble Apoſtrophe to the Sun, the Devil makes in the be⯑ginning of the Third Book.

And in that Admirable Paſſage in the Seventh Book, where Adam de⯑ſires the Angel to give him an account of the Creation.

And in the Apoſtrophe to the Sun in the Fourth Aeneid.

[48] Which is in Engliſh.

And in what Milton ſays of the Moon, in the Fourth of Paradiſe Loſt.

For the Stars and the immenſity of the Univerſe, I deſire the Rea⯑der would give me leave to bring an Example, from the Paraphraſe upon the Te Deum, where thus the Angel ſpeaks to God.

The Idea of the World's im⯑menſity is very proper to produce Admiration, as leading us to the Glory of the Creator, the uſe that Milton makes of it, in the Eighth Book of Paradiſe loſt.

And Taſſo finely makes uſe of that Noble Idea, to repreſs the Pride and Ambition of Man. 'Tis in the 14th Canto of the Gieruſalemme, where Hugo bids Godfrey, who had been rapt up to Heaven in a Viſion, look down from the Fir⯑mament to the Earth.

The following Verſes of Milton, in the Eighth of Paradiſe Loſt, concerning the Magnitude and the Motions of the Heavens and Earth [52] derive a Lofty Spirit from their Subject for there ſays Adam.

I could here bring Examples of the ſame kind of Spirit, derived in due Proportion from Ideas of Sub⯑lunary Things, as of the Four Ele⯑ments Water, Earth, Air, Fire, Winds and Meteors of all ſorts, Seas, Rivers, Mountains, but I am afraid of running into Length, and heaping too many Citations one upon another. Beſides it will be very convenient to make two or three Remarks here.

[53] Firſt, That the Wonders of the Univerſe, afford the more admira⯑ble Ideas and a more admirable Spirit, the more they ſhew the attributes of the Creator or relate to his Worſhip. Secondly, That Na ural Philoſophy is abſolutely neceſſary to a Poet, not only that he may adorn his Poem, with the uſeful knowledge it affords, but becauſe the more he knows the immenſe Phaenomena of the Uni⯑verſe, the more he will be ſure to admire them. For the more we know of Things that are never to be comprehended by us, the more that knowledge muſt make them appear wonderful. The Third Re⯑mark that I ſhall make is this, That they to whom Nature has given that happy Elevation of Thought, which alone can make a great Poet, will often be di⯑rected by that tendency to great⯑neſs, which they have within them to Ideas, from which they may derive a lofty Spirit, yet I ſhall ſhew by the Example of Milton, [54] that they may often very groſly fail, for want of a certain know⯑ledge of the Objects from which they are to draw their Idea's, for 'tis for want of that knowledge that Milton has done the moſt un⯑artful thing that perhaps ever was done, in the two or three laſt Books of the greateſt Poem that ever was written by Man. For whereas in the Firſt Eight Books, he had by the Mouth of God or Angels, or of Man the Companion of Angels, divinely entertain'd us with the wondrous Works of God, in the latter end of his Poem, and more particularly in the laſt Book, he makes an Angel entertain us with the Works of corrupted Man, from which it is very plain by what has been deliver'd above, concern⯑ing the Nature of Enthuſiaſtick Paſſion; that that Angel could draw no ſort of Enthuſiaſm, and leaſt of all that of Admiration and Terror, which give the principal Greatneſs and Elevation to, Poetry. For how flat, how low and unmuſical is the Re⯑lation of the Actions of fall'n Man, in [55] the 10th. Lib. tho' deliver'd by the voice of Divinity.

The Late Mr. Dryden, with a great deal of Injuſtice, us'd to at⯑tribute the flatneſs of Milton, in this and ſome other Paſſages, to his getting into a tract of Scripture, as he was pleas'd to expreſs himſelf: Whereas the thing that made him [56] ſink, was plainly the poorneſs and lowneſs of the Ideas. For how could the Works of corrupted Man, afford any other to God or Angels? But what lofty what glorious Ideas does a religious mention of the Works of God, afford to Man in his primitive State in that in⯑comparable Hymn in the Fifth Book of the ſame Paradiſe Loſt: A Hymn, which tho' it is intirely taken from Scripture, for it is ap⯑parently the 148 Pſalm, yet will al⯑ways ſtand alone, the Phoenix of Lofty Hymns, and nothing equal to it, no nor Second to it can ever be produced from the Grecian Writers of Hymns. It is impoſſible I can do a greater Pleaſure to the Rea⯑der, who either has not read or do's not remember Milton, than to inſert it here.

'Tis eaſie to diſcern here, with how much more Divinity Milton makes a Man ſpeak concerning the Works of God, than he makes even the Creator Himſelf ſpeak concern⯑ing the Works of Man. But here if the Reader will pardon a Digreſ⯑ſion, I ſhall make an Obſervation which may not be diſagreeable to [60] him. The Obſervation is this, That all the Paſſages in Paradiſe Loſt, where God is introduc'd Speaking, are flat to the reſerve of thoſe in which he ſpeaks of himſelf. Upon enquiring into the Reaſon of it, I found, That according to the Ac⯑count which I have given of Poeti⯑cal Enthuſiaſm, or of the Spirit of Poetry, it is nothing but that Ad⯑miration and Terrour, and the reſt of thoſe Enthuſiaſtical Paſſions which are produced by their proper Ideas, and which are to hold Proportion with their Ideas, as their Ideas, muſt with their Objects. Now nothing is more impoſſible than that God ſhould either Fear or Admire His own Creatures. But where Milton makes him ſpeak concerning Him⯑ſelf, or His Infinite Power, there he makes him ſpeak with a great Spirit, as in that Paſſage of the Sixth Book where He ſpeaks to His Son.

'Tis plain that here the Poet is guilty of a Miſtake, but indeed a Miſtake that is almoſt unavoida⯑ble, for 'tis the Admiration and Terrour that make the Spirit in the preceding Verſes; and it is im⯑poſſible to conceive the Ideas with⯑out feeling the Paſſions; ſo that Milton while he was rapt with Admiration and moved with Ter⯑rour by the Ideas which he had conceiv'd, ſhifts Perſons inſenſibly, and forgetting who ſpeaks, expreſſes himſelf with thoſe Paſſions which indeed are proper enough in the Poet, but never can be ſo in the Deity. For neither His Bow, nor His Almighty Arms, His Thunder, nor the rapid Wheels that Shake Heavens baſis, can be in the leaſt Admirable or Terrible to the Divi⯑nity, ſo that Mr. Cowley is certain⯑ly, in the right in his Notes upon his Davideis, where he tells us, that [62] God is to be introduc'd ſpeaking ſimply. And this puts me in mind of an extraordinary Argument of Monſieur Paſchal, proving the Di⯑vinity of our Saviour by the ſimpli⯑city of his Stile; for ſays he, our Saviour ſpeaks of the ſublimeſt Sub⯑jects, even the glories of the King⯑dom of Heaven without being moved at all, which ſhews that he was really God; for ſuppoſe a Peaſant, ſays he, or an ordinary Man ſhou'd be carried to the Court of ſome Prince, as for Ex⯑ample the great Mogul, and there be ſhewn all his Riches, his Pomp and his Power; this Peaſant at his return would certainly ſpeak of theſe Things in extravagant terms, in terms that would ſufficiently declare his tranſport. But if the Mogul himſelf was to ſpeak of them, he who had been always us;d to them, would ſpeak without any emotion. So ſays Monſieur Paſchal, if any one elſe had deliver'd any Thing concerning the glories of the Kingdom of Heaven, he would cer⯑tainly have done it with tranſport, [63] nay tho' he had been a Fanatick or an Impoſtor; For let thoſe Di⯑vine Ideas come how they will, 'tis Impoſſible for Man to think of them without being Raviſh'd by them. But our Saviour who was God, and who conſequently had been us'd to them from all Eternity, ſpoke of them unconcern'd.

But let us come to the Third sort of Thoughts, which Hermogenes ſays, are proper to give Elevation and Gravity to a Diſcourſe, and thoſe are Things which indeed are Divine, ſays, but are often beheld in Men. Theſe Emanations of Divinity are the Virtues ſuch as Temperance, Juſtice, Fortitude, Magnanimity; or Nature, Law, Power and the like. And we ſhou'd never make an end, if we ſhou'd give Examples of all the Paſſages, whoſe greatneſs of Spirit, is deriv'd from theſe Ideas. But for the Readers Entertainment we ſhall mention a few.

[64] The Power of Ruling our own Minds, which may be referr'd to Temperance, gives noble Ideas and conſequently a noble Spirit, as we may ſee by the Second Ode, of the Second Book of Horace.

Which in Engliſh is thus.

And the Idea of Fortitude affords too a noble Spirit, as we may ſee in the Twelfth of the Aeneis, where [65] Turnus replies to AEneas who up⯑braids him with Fear.

And that is a very remarkable Paſſage in the Fifteenth Stanza of the Fourth Canto of the Gieruſalemme, for after Pluto had demanded of the aſſembled Fiends; if they will ſtand idle and ſuffer the Chriſtian Armies to throw down their Altars and deſtroy their Worſhip. He adds,

Which in Engliſh is thus.

From which Milton has apparent⯑ly borrow'd Part of Lucifer's Speech, [67] in the Firſt Book of Paradiſe Loſt.

And in Armida's Speech to God⯑frey, Canto 4th. Stanza 63. Taſſo De⯑rives a noble Spirit from Godfrey's Power and Juſtice.

Which is in Engliſh.

And from the Magnanimity of Rinaldo, in the Fourteenth Stanza of the Fifth Canto,

In Engliſh.

The Fourth sort of Thoughts which Hermogenes mentions, as Ri⯑ches, Nobility, Place, Office, Rank, and the like, we ſhall purpoſely paſs by, without giving Examples of them, becauſe we ſhall have a particular occaſion to do it here⯑after. Let us now paſs to the next Enthuſiaſtick Paſſion which is Ter⯑rour; than which if it is rightly manag'd, none is more capable of giving a great Spirit to Poetry. This Paſſion ſcarce ever goes by it⯑ſelf, [69] but is always more or leſs complicated with Admiration. For every thing that is Terrible is great at leaſt to him to whom it is Ter⯑rible. 'Tis now our buſineſs to ſhew two Things. Firſt, what this En⯑thuſiaſtick Terrour is? and Second⯑ly, from what Ideas it is chiefly to be deriv'd.

Firſt let us ſhow what this ſort of Enthuſiaſm is, and in order to that, let us ſhew as briefly as we can, what the Common Paſſion is which we call Terror. Fear then or Terror is, a Diſturbance of Mind proceeding from the apprehenſion of an approaching evil; Threatning Diſtruction or very great trouble either to us or ours. And when the diſturbance comes ſuddenly with ſurpriſe, let us call it Terror, when gradually Fear. Things then that are powerful, and likely to hurt, are the cauſes of Common Terror, and the more they are powerful and likely to hurt, the more they become the cauſes of Terror, which Terror, the greater it is, the more it is join'd with [70] wonder, and the nearer it comes to aſtoniſhment. Thus we have ſhewn what Objects of the Mind are the cauſes of Common Terror, and the Ideas of thoſe Objects are the cauſes of Enthuſiaſtick Terror.

Let us now ſhew from what Ideas this Enthuſiaſtick Terror is chiefly to be deriv'd. The greateſt Enthuſiaſtick Terrour then muſt needs be deriv'd from Religious Idea's, for ſince the more their Ob⯑jects are Powerful, and likely to hurt, the greater Terrour their Idea's produce: What can pro⯑duce a greater Terrour than the Idea of an Angry God? Which puts me in mind of that admirable Paſ⯑ſage of Homer, about the Fight of the Gods, in the Twentieth of the Iliads, cited by Longinus in his Chapter of the Loftineſs of the Conceptions.

Which in Engliſh is thus.

Behold here ſays Longinus, the Earth laid open to the very Center, and Hell about to be expos'd to view, and all the vaſt Machine of the World demoliſh'd and over⯑turn'd, to ſhew that in that im⯑portant Conflict both Heaven and Hell, both Mortal and Immortal Things, every thing in Nature en⯑gag'd with the Gods, and nothing was free from Danger.

And now I mention Longinus, this is the propereſt place, to ſhew by his Authority that Religious Ideas are the moſt proper to give greatneſs and ſublimity to a Diſcourſe. And this I ſhall ſhew Firſt by his Ex⯑amples and Secondly by his Pre⯑cepts.

[73] Firſt by his Examples: All the Examples which he gives of Subli⯑mity in his Chapter of the Lofti⯑neſs of the Conceptions; of which th' above mention'd Paſſage is one, are taken from the Graecian Reli⯑gion, as this.

Which in Engliſh is thus.

Where ſays Longinus, he mea⯑ſures the Length of their Leap by the extent of the World. Who is [74] it than ſays he, that might not with Reaſon cry out, that if the Horſes of the Gods would take a Second Leap, they would not find Space enough in the Univerſe.

And what follows concerning Nep⯑tune, Deſcending from a Mountain in Thrace,

And a little beyond.

[75] In Engliſh thus.

And it was from this Paſſage, I make no doubt, that Spencer drew his Admirable Picture of Neptune, in the Eleventh Canto of the Third Book of his Faery Queen.

I now come to the Precepts of Longinus, and pretend to ſhew from them, that the greateſt ſublimity is to be deriv'd from Religious Ideas. But why then, ſays the Reader, has not Longinus plainly told us ſo? He was not ignorant, that he ought to make his ſubject as plain as he could. For he has told us in the beginning of his Treatiſe, that every one who gives Inſtruction concer⯑ning [77] an Art, ought to endeavour two things. The firſt is to make his Reader clearly underſtand what that is which he pretends to teach. The ſecond is to ſhew him how it may be attain'd. And he blames Cecilius very ſeverely for neglect⯑ing the Laſt, how then ſays the Objector comes he himſelf to have taken no care of the Firſt: Is it becauſe Cecilius had done it before him? If ſo, it was a very great fault in Longinus, to publiſh a Book which cou'd not be underſtood but by another Man's Writings; eſpe⯑cially when he ſaw that thoſe Wri⯑tings were ſo very defective that they would not probably laſt. But what, continues the Objector, if Cecilius had not done it before him? For Longinus tells us that Cecilius makes uſe of a multitude of Words to ſhew what it is; now he who knows any thing clear⯑ly may in a few Words explain it clearly to others; and he who does not will make it obſcure by many.

To this I anſwer, that tho' Lon⯑ginus did by long Study, and habi⯑tude [78] know the Sublime when he ſaw it, as well as any Man, yet he had not ſo clear a knowledge of the Nature of it as to explain it clearly to others. For if he had done that, as the Objector ſays, he would have defin'd it, but he has been ſo far from defining it, that in one place he has given an account of it that is contrary to the true nature of it. For he tells us in that Chapter which treats of the Fountains of Sublimity, that Loftineſs is often without any Paſ⯑ſion at all. Which is contrary to to the true nature of it. The ſublime is indeed often without Common Paſ⯑ſion, as ordinary Paſſion is often with⯑out that. But then it is never with⯑out Enthuſiaſtick Paſſion. For the Sublime is nothing elſe but a great Thought, or Great Thoughts mo⯑ving the Soul from it's Ordinary Scituation by the Enthuſiaſm which naturally attends them. Now Lon⯑ginus had a notion of Enthuſiaſtick Paſſion; for he eſtabliſhes it in that, very Chapter for the ſecond Source of Sublimity. Now Longinus by [79] affirming that the Sublime may be without not only that, but ordina⯑ry Paſſion, ſays a thing that is not only contrary to the true Nature of it, but contradictory of Himſelf. For he tells us in the beginning of the Treatiſe that the Sublime does not ſo properly perſuade us, as it Ra⯑viſhes and Tranſports us, and pro⯑duces in us a certain Admiration mingled with aſtoniſhment and with ſurpriſe, which is quite ano⯑ther thing than the barely Pleaſing or the barely perſwading; that it gives a noble Vigour to a Diſcourſe, an invincible force which commits a pleaſing Rape upon the very Soul of the Reader; that whenever it breaks out where it ought to do, like the Artillery of Jove, it Thun⯑ders blazes and ſtrikes at once, and ſhews all the united force of a Writer. Now I leave the Reader to Judge, whether Longinius has not been ſaying here all along that Subli⯑mity is never without Paſſion.

That the foremention'd Diſini⯑tion is juſt and good, I have reaſon to believe, becauſe it takes in all [80] the ſources of Sublimity which Lon⯑ginus has eſtabliſh'd. For firſt greatneſs of Thought ſuppoſes Ele⯑vation, they, being Synonimous Terms: And ſecondly the Enthuſi⯑aſm or the Pathetique, as Longinus calls it, follows of courſe; for if a Man is not ſtrongly mov'd by great Thoughts, he does not ſufficiently and effectually conceive them. And thirdly the Figurative-Language is but a conſequence of the Enthuſiaſm, that being the natural Language of the Paſſions. And ſo is fourthly the nobleneſs of the Expreſſion, ſuppo⯑ſing a Man to be Maſter of the Language in which he Writes. For as the Thoughts produce the Spirit or the Paſſion, the Spirit produces and makes the Expreſſion, which is known by experience to all who are Poets; for never any one, while he was rapt with Enthu⯑ſiaſm or Ordinary Paſſion, wanted either Words or Harmony, and is ſelf evident to all who conſider that the expreſſion conveys and ſhows the Spirit, and conſequent⯑ly muſt be produc'd by it.

[81] Thus the definition which we have laid down, being according to Longinus his own Doctrine, the true definition of the Sublime, and ſhewing clearly the thing which he has not done, nor given any defini⯑tion at all of it, it ſeems plain to me, that he had no clear and di⯑ſtinct Idea of it; and conſequently Religion might be the thing from which it is chiefly to be deriv'd and he but obſcurely know it; but that Religion is that thing from which the Sublime is chiefly to be deriv'd, let us ſhew by the Marks which he has given of the latter; which will further ſtrengthen our Definition. Firſt, ſays he, that which is truely ſublime has this pe⯑culiar to it, that it exalts the Soul and makes it conceive a grea⯑ter Idea of it ſelf; filling it with Joy, and with a certain noble Pride, as if it ſelf had produc'd what it but barely Reads.

Now here it is plain, that the higheſt Ideas muſt moſt exalt the [82] Soul, but Religious Ideas are the higheſt.

The more the Soul is mov'd by the greateſt Ideas, the more it conceives them, but the more it conceives of the greateſt Ideas, the greater Opinion it muſt have of its own Capacity. By conſequence the more it is mov'd by the Wonders of Religion the more it values it ſelf upon its own Excellences. Again, The more the Soul ſees its Excel⯑lence the more it Rejoyces. Beſides Religious Ideas are the moſt Ad⯑mirable, and what is moſt Admi⯑rable according to the Doctrine of Ariſtrotle is moſt delightful. Beſides Religious Ideas create Paſſion in ſuch a manner as to turn and in⯑cline the Soul to its primitive Ob⯑ject. So that Reaſon and Paſſion are of the ſame ſide, and this Peace between the Faculties cauſes the Soul to Rejoyce, of which we ſhall have occaſion to ſay more anon.

[83] 2. The Second Mark that Lon⯑ginus gives of the Sublime, is when a Diſcourſe leaves a great deal for us to think. But now this is cer⯑tain that the wonders of Religion are never to be exhauſted, for they are always new, and the more you enter into them, the more they are ſure to ſurpriſe.

3. The Third Mark is, when it leaves in the Reader an Idea above its Expreſſion. Now no Expreſſi⯑ons can come up to the Ideas which we draw from the Atri⯑butes of God, or from His won⯑drous Works, which only the Au⯑thour of them can comprehend.

4. The Fourth Mark is, when it makes an impreſſion upon us, which it is impoſſible to reſiſt.

God who made Man for Him⯑ſelf, and for his own Glory, and who requires chiefly his Heart; muſt by conſequence have form'd him of ſuch a Nature as to be moſt [84] ſtrongly mov'd with Religious Ide⯑as if once he enters into them. So that the Impreſſions which they make are Impoſſible to be Reſiſted.

5. The Fifth Mark is when the Impreſſion laſts and is difficult to be defac'd. Now that the Im⯑preſſions which Religion makes up⯑on us are difficult to be defac'd is plain from this, that they who think it their Intereſt to deface them can never bring it about.

6. The Sixth Mark is when it pleaſes univerſally, people of diffe⯑rent Humours, Inclinations, Sexes, Ages, Times, Climates. Now there is nothing ſo agreeable to the Soul or that makes ſo univerſal an Im⯑preſſion as the wonders of Religion. Some Perſons are mov'd by Love and are not touch'd by Ambition, others are animated by Ambition and only Laugh at Love. Some are pleas'd with a brave Revenge, others with a generous Contempt of Injuries, but the Eternal Power and [85] the Infinite knowledge of God, the Wonders of the Creation, and the beautiful brightneſs of Virtue make a powerful impreſſion on all.

I muſt confeſs I have wonder'd very much upon Reflection, how it could happen that ſo great a Man as Longinus, who whenever he met a paſſage in any Diſcourſe that was lofty enough to pleaſe him, had diſcernment enough to ſee that it had ſome of the preceeding Marks, ſhould miſs of finding ſo eaſie a thing as this, that never any paſſage had all theſe Marks or ſo much as the Majority of them, unleſs it were Religious.

But to return to Terrour, we may plainly ſee by the foregoing Precepts and Examples of Longinus, that this Enthuſiaſtick Terror con⯑tributes extreamly to the Sublime, and Secondly that it is moſt pro⯑duced by Religious Ideas.

Firſt Ideas producing Terrour contribute extreamly to the Sublime. All the Examples that Longinus brings of the loftineſs of the [86] Thought, conſiſt of terrible Ideas. And they are Principally ſuch Ideas that work the effects, which he takes notice of, in the beginning of his Treatiſe, viz. that Raviſh and Tranſport the Reader, and produce a certain Admiration mingled with Aſtoniſhment and with Surprize. For the Ideas which produce Ter⯑rour are neceſſarily accompanied with Admiration, becauſe ev'ry thing that is terrible is great to Him to whom it is Terrible; and with Surprize without which Terrour cannot ſubſiſt; and with Aſtoniſh⯑ment, becauſe ev'ry thing which is very Terrible is Wonderful and Aſtoniſhing; and as Terrour is perhaps the violent'ſt of all the Paſſi⯑ons, it conſequently makes an im⯑preſſion which we cannot reſiſt, and which is hardly to be defac'd, and no Paſſion is attended with greater Joy than Enthuſiaſtick Terrour, which proceeds from our reflecting that we are out of Danger at the very time that we ſee it before us. And as Terrour is one of the vio⯑lenteſt [87] lenteſt of all Paſſions if it is very great, and the hardeſt to be re⯑ſiſted, nothing gives more force, nor more vehemence to a Diſcourſe. But Secondly, it is plain from the ſame Longinus, that this Enthuſia⯑ſtick Terrour is chiefly to be de⯑riv'd from Religious Ideas. For all the Examples which he has brought of the Sublime, in his Chapter of the Sublimity of the Thoughts conſiſts of moſt Terrible and moſt Religious Ideas, and at the ſame time ev'ry Man's Reaſon will inform him, that ev'ry thing that is Terrible in Religion is the moſt Terrible thing in the World.

But that we may ſet this in a clearer Light, let us lay before the Reader the ſeveral Ideas which are capable of producing this En⯑thuſiaſtick Terrour, which ſeem to me to be thoſe which follow, viz. Gods, Daemons, Hell, Spirits and Souls of Men, Miracles, Prodigies, Enchantments, Witchcrafts, Thun⯑der, Tempeſts, raging Seas, Inun⯑dations, Torrents, Earthquakes, [88] Volcanos, Monſters, Serpents, Li⯑ons, Tygres, Fire, War, Peſtilence, Famine, &c.

Now of all theſe Ideas none are ſo terrible as thoſe which ſhew the Wrath and Vengeance of an Angry God. For nothing is ſo wonderful in its effects, and conſe⯑quently the Images or Ideas of thoſe effects muſt carry a great deal of Terrour with them, which we may ſee was Longinus his Opinion by the Examples which he brings in his Chapter of the Sublimity of the Thoughts. Now of things which are terrible thoſe are the moſt terrible which are the moſt wonderful, be⯑cauſe that ſeeing them both threat⯑ning and powerful, and not being able to fathom the greatneſs and extent of their Power, we know not how far and how ſoon they may hurt us.

But further nothing is ſo terri⯑ble as the wrath of infinite Power, becauſe nothing is ſo unavoidable as the Vengeance deſign'd by it. There is no flying nor lying hid [89] from the great univerſal Monarch. He may deliver us from all other Terrours, but nothing can ſave and defend us from him. And therefore Reaſon which ſerves to diſſipate our Terrours in ſome other Dangers, ſerves but to augment them when we are threatned by Infinite Power; and that Fortitude which may be Heroick at other times is down right madneſs then.

For the other Ideas which we mention'd above, they will be found to be more terrible as they have more of Religion in them. But we ſhall have ſo many neceſ⯑ſary occaſions of giving Examples of them, in the Sequel of this Treatiſe, that it will be altogether needleſs to do it now. But here it will be convenient to Anſwer an Objection. For how come ſome of the foremention'd Ideas which ſeem to have but little to do with Religion, to be Terrible to great and to wiſe Men, as it is plain that ſuch when they read the Deſcrip⯑tions of them in Homer and Virgil are terrify'd.

[90] To which we Anſwer, that the care which Nature has inrooted in all of their own Preſervation, is the Cauſe that Men are unavoidably terrify'd, with any thing that threatens approaching evil. 'Tis now our buſineſs to ſhew how the Ideas of Serpents, Lions, Ty⯑gers, &c. were made by the art of thoſe great Poets, to be terri⯑ble to their Readers at the ſame time that we are ſecure from their Objects.

'Tis very plain that it is the Apprehenſion of Danger which cauſes that emotion in us which we call Terrour, and it ſignifies nothing at all to the purpoſe whe⯑ther the Danger is real or imagi⯑nary; and 'tis as plain too, that the Soul never takes the Alarm from any thing ſo ſoon as it does from the Senſes, eſpecially thoſe two noble ones of the Eye and the Ear, by reaſon of the ſtrict aſſinity which they have with the Imagi⯑nation; and the Evil always ſeems [91] to be very near, when thoſe two Senſes give notice of it; and the nearer the Evil is the greater ſtill is the Terror. But now let us ſee how thoſe two Poets, did by Virtue of their Ideas, bring even abſent, Terrible Objects, within the reach of thoſe two noble Senſes. Firſt then to bring an abſent Ter⯑rible Object before our Sight, they drew an Image or Picture of it; but to draw an Image or Picture of a Terrible Object, ſo as to ſurpriſe and aſtoniſh the Soul by the Eye, they never fail'd to draw it in violent Action or Motion; and in Order to that they made choice of Words and Numbers, which might beſt expreſs the violence of that Action or Motion. For an ab⯑ſent Object can never be ſet before the Eye in a true Light, unleſs it is ſhewn in violent Action or Motion. Becauſe unleſs it is ſhewn ſo, the Soul has leiſure to reflect upon the Deceit. But violent Motion can never be conceived without a vio⯑lent agitation of Spirit, and that [92] ſudden agitation ſurptiſes the Soul and gives it leſs time to Reflect; and at the ſame time cauſes the Impreſſions that the Objects make to be ſo Deep, and their traces to be ſo profound, that it makes them in a manner as preſent to us as if they were really before us. For the Spirits being ſet in a violent emotion, and the Imagination being fir'd by that agitation; and the Brain being deeply penetrated by thoſe Impreſſions, the very Objects themſelves are ſet as it were be⯑fore us, and conſequently we are ſenſible of the ſame Paſſion that we ſhould feel from the things themſelves. For the warmer the Imagination is, the leſs able we are to Reflect, and conſequently the things are the more preſent to us of which we draw the Ima⯑ges; and therefore when the Ima⯑gination is ſo inflam'd as to ren⯑der the Soul utterly incapable of reflecting there is no difference be⯑tween the Images and the things themſelves; as we may ſee for ex⯑ample [93] by Men in Raging Feavours. But thoſe two great Poets were not ſatisfied with ſetting abſent Objects before our Eyes, by ſhewing them in violent motion; but if their mo⯑tion occaſion'd any Extraordinary Sounds that were terrifying; they ſo contriv'd their Numbers and Expreſſions, as that they might be ſure to ring thoſe ſounds in the very Ears of their Readers.

We ought now to treat of the other Enthuſiaſtic Paſſions, as Hor⯑ror, Grief, Joy and Deſire. But to the End that we may Diverſifie this Treatiſe as much as we can, and not tire out the Reader with too much Speculation at a time, we ſhall omit ſpeaking of them till we come to the Epick Poets.

CHAP. V. Recapitulation; and that Reli⯑gion is the Baſis and Foun⯑dation of the greater Poe⯑try.

BUT now let us Recapitulate: We have ſhewn in the fore⯑going part of this Diſcourſe, that Paſſion is the Characteriſtical Mark of Poetry, and that all Poetry is pathetick; and then we divided it into two Kinds, the greater and the leſs; and ſhew'd that the greater Poetry, comprehends Epick, Tra⯑gick and the greater Lyrick; and that our Deſign was in the firſt place to treat of that. Then we proceeded to ſhew, that as Paſſion is the Characteriſtical Mark of Poetry, great Paſſion muſt be the [95] Characteriſtical Mark of the grea⯑ter Poetry, and conſequently that this laſt muſt have every where great Paſſion; but that ſince what we commonly call Paſſion cannot be ev'ry where, there muſt be ſomething diſtinct from ordinary Paſſion, and that muſt be Enthuſi⯑aſm. Then we endeavour'd to diſcover what Enthuſiaſm is, and how many ſeveral ſorts there are of it; and that Admiration and Terrour make the Principal great⯑neſs of Poetry, and are the chief of the Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions; that thoſe two Paſſions are to bear pro⯑portion with the Ideas from which they are deriv'd, and that conſe⯑quently the greateſt muſt flow from Religious Ideas. We ſhall ſhew too in the Sequel of this Diſcourſe, that not only the remain⯑ing Enthuſiaſtick Paſſions, Horror, Sadneſs, Joy and Deſire; but that ev'n the Ordinary Paſſions which contribute moſt to the greatneſs of Poetry as Admiration, Terrour and Pitty are chiefly to be deriv'd [96] from Religion; but that the Paſ⯑ſions of both ſorts, muſt for the moſt part flow greater from Re⯑velation than from Natural Reli⯑gion, becauſe all Reveal'd Religion whether true or pretended ſpeaks to the Senſes, brings the wonders of another World more Home to us, and ſo makes the Paſſions which it Raiſes the greater.

The Fundamental Rule then that we pretend to lay down, for the Succeeding, or Excelling in the greater Poetry, is that the Conſtitu⯑tion of the Poem, be Religious that it may be throughout Pathetick.

And we pretend to prove un⯑deniably that not only the Gentle⯑men, whoſe works we deſign to ex⯑amine, have ſucceeded and excell'd no further than their Poems have been ſo conſtituted; but that never any Poets of any Nation or any Age, ever did or can excel with⯑out it. I have already prov'd in the Advancement of modern Poetry, [97] beyond all manner of doubt, to thoſe who have Capacity enough to com⯑prehend the Arguments, that the Ancient Poets excell'd the moderns in the greatneſs of Poetry, for no other reaſon, but becauſe their Sub⯑jects were Religious in their con⯑ſtitution. And therefore all that I ſhall ſay of it here is, that Poetry is the Natural Language of Reli⯑gion, and that Religion at firſt pro⯑duc'd it, as a Cauſe produces its Effect. In the firſt Ages of wri⯑ting among the Graecians, there was nothing writ but Verſe, becauſe they wrote of nothing but Religion which was neceſſary for the Ce⯑menting the Societies which in thoſe times were but juſt united, and Na⯑ture had taught them, that Poetry was the only Language in which they could worthily treat of the moſt Important parts of Religion, or worthily perform its moſt Im⯑portant Duties: But as ſoon as Re⯑ligion was ſufficiently imprinted in the Minds of Men, and they had jeiſure to Treat of Human things [98] in their writings they, invented Proſe, and invented it in Imitation of Verſe, as Strabo tells us in the firſt Book of his Geography; but after that Proſe was invented, by them; never any of them treated of their Gods or their Religious matters, in Proſe, before the Age of Socrates, becauſe they found that that way of writing, was by no means proper for it. For the won⯑ders of Religion naturally threw them upon great Paſſions, and great paſ⯑ſions naturally threw them upon Harmony, and Figurative Lan⯑guage, as they moſt of Neceſſity do, any Poet as long as he con⯑tinues Maſter of them. Which is known by Experience to all who are Poets, for never any one while he was rapt with Enthuſiaſm or with Ordinary Paſſion, wanted either Words or Harmony, and there⯑fore▪ Poetry is more Harmonious than Proſe becauſe it is more Pa⯑thetick. Even in Proſe your Ora⯑tors and all who pretend to move the Paſſions, have more Harmonious [99] Periods than they who barely ſpeak to the Reaſon. And in Poetry they who write with a great deal of Paſſion are Generally very Harmo⯑nious, whereas thoſe who write with but little are not ſo Muſical. Horace is an Illuſtrious Example of this. No Man who has read his Odes can doubt of the fineneſs and the Delicacy of his Ear; and there⯑fore his Satyrs are often Harſh and Rugged becauſe the Spirit in them is mean and little. No Man can believe that Juvenal had a finer Ear, than Horace, but yet his Satyrs are more Muſical becauſe they have a greater Spirit in them. At the ſame time tis a little odd to con⯑ſider, that Paſſion which diſturbs the Soul, ſhould occaſion it to produce Harmony, which ſeems to emply the Order and Compoſure of it. Whether this proceeds from the Secret Effort that the Soul makes, to Compoſe it ſelf or whatever the cauſe is, the Effect is certain. But as Paſſion, which is the Diſorder of the Soul; produces Harmony which [100] is Agreement; ſo Harmony which is Concord Augments and propa⯑gates Paſſion which is Diſcord. All who are acquainted with Poetry or Muſick muſt be as ſenſible of this, as Mr. Waller was fully con⯑vinc'd of it,

Thus we may ſee by Mr. Waller that Numbers are proper to move Paſſion, and for that Reaſon are inſeperable from Poetry which has no other Deſign. But we ſhall have occaſion to treat of Harmony more at large when we come to the particular ſorts of Poems, in the mean time let us Return to the bu⯑ſineſs from which we may ſeem to have digreſs'd.

[101] As we have formerly undeniably prov'd in the advancement of Modern Poetry, that the Ancient Poets deriv'd that Advantage which they have over the Moderns to the conſtituting their Subjects after a Religious manner; ſo I ſhall make it appear in the ſequel of this Diſ⯑courſe, that it was owing to the ſame thing that the ancient Poets very often excell'd themſelves.

And I have Reaſon to believe that one of the Principal Reaſons, that has made the Modern Poetry ſo contemptible, is, that by diveſt⯑ing it ſelf of Religion, it is fall'n from its dignity, and its original Nature and Excellence, and from the greateſt production of the Mind of Man, is dwindled to an extra⯑vagant and a vain Amuſement. For the Modern Poetry being for the moſt part Prophane, has either very little Spirit, or if it has a great one, that Spirit is out of Nature, becauſe it bears no man⯑ner [102] of Proportion to the Ideas from which it is forcibly denv'd, nor the Ideas very often to the Objects from which they are taken; for as Mr. Waller ſays,

But that the Modern Poetry as miſerably as it is fall'n from the Dignity of its original Nature, might gloriouſly ariſe and lift up its Head, ſurpaſſing ev'n that of the Ancients, if the Poets would but conſtitute their Subjects Reli⯑gious, I have formerly clearly ſhewn in the Second Part of the Advance⯑ment of Modern Poetry; by ſhew⯑ing that the Deſign of the Chri⯑ſtian Religion is the very ſame, with [103] that of Poetry, which can be ſaid of no other Religion, that the bu⯑ſineſs of both is to delight and re⯑form mankind, by exciting the Paſſions in ſuch a manner as to re⯑concile them to Reaſon, and reſtore the Harmony of the humane Facul⯑ties. And therefore that I may re⯑peat nothing at preſent that I have formerly ſaid there; I ſhall only add, that if 'tis Religion that gives the warmth and the Paſſion to Poetry, it follows that the leſs mix⯑ture that Religion has of any thing Prophane and Humane in it, the greater warmth and Paſſion it muſt give to Poetry; for that which moves us in effect in a falſe Religion muſt be the Imagination of that which is true. As for Example in the above mention'd paſſage of the wrath of Neptune; the Anger of Neptune is Fiction, and ſo is the Stroke of His Trident; but that which moves us at the bottom of this Fiction is true, which is, that the Anger of a Deity and the effects of it are very terrible. The Rea⯑ſon [104] why Religion moves the Soul ſo extreamly, is becauſe the Soul was Created by God, to find its Happineſs in Him, and all Happi⯑neſs conſiſts in Pleaſure, and all Pleaſure in Paſſion. Now the leſs mixture Religion has of any thing of Human Invention in it, the more Divine it is and the nearer it brings us to God.

But that this may ſtill appear the more clearly, we ſhall Endea⯑vour to prove it by two very Sig⯑nal Examples, and ſhall produce two paſſages from Scripture; the one from the Pſalms and the other from Habbakuk; which we ſhall ſet againſt the Two foremention'd Paſſages which Longinus cited from Ho⯑mer; the one of the Wrath and the O⯑ther of the Power of Neptune; and his awful march through his own Element; and in ſetting theſe Paſ⯑ſages againſt one another we make no doubt to ſhew, that not only the Subjects are exactly the ſame, but that the Advantage is clearly ours.

[105] Let us begin with that Paſſage concerning the might of Neptune, and his driving his Chariot thro' the Sea.

And anon.

Now to this Paſſage let us op⯑poſe that of the Prophet Habbakuk exactly upon the ſame occaſion; only the Prophet ſays of the True God, what Homer ſays of Neptune.

[107]But now let us come to the wrath of Neptune, and the effects of it, in the Battel of the Twen⯑tieth of the Iliads, in which the Gods were engag'd.

As the neceſſity of the Subject has oblig'd us to repeat theſe Ver⯑ſes, ſo we have the ſame Excuſe for the Repeating the Reflection, of Longinus. Behold here ſays Longinus, the Earth laid open to the very Center, and Hell about to be Expos'd to view, and all the vaſt Machine of the World; Demo⯑liſh'd. and overturn'd, to ſhew that in that Important Conflict, both Heaven and Hell, both Mor⯑tal and Immortal things, every thing in Nature Engag'd with the Gods and nothing was free from Danger. Now let us ſee the Pſalmiſt Introducing the true God, actual⯑ly Demoliſhing and overturning the Machine of the World only with a Word and with a Look.

But here it will be Neceſſary to anſwer an Objection, for it may be urg'd perhaps that Common Expe⯑rience will Deſtroy theſe new Specu⯑lations. For ſeveral of the Moderns have attempted Divine Poetry, and yet ſome of them have been Contemp⯑tible to the laſt Degree, and not one of them has excell'd the An⯑cients.

To which we anſwer that Milton has clearly the advantage of the An⯑cients in ſeveral points, as ſhall be ſhewn in its proper place; and if the reſt of the Moderns who have attemp⯑ted Sacred Poetry have fall'n ſo very much ſhort of them, it has been either for want of Genius or for want of Art to know how to make uſe of Religion. For Sacred Poetry ap⯑parently requires a greater capacity than the Prophane does, becauſe the greater the Ideas are, the greater [112] muſt the Capacity be that receives them. But Sacred Ideas are greater then the Prophane, as hath been ſhewn above. And therefore if the Rule of Horace be true, that a Poet ought to proportion his Subject to his Strength, it follows that a Man may Succeed pretty well in Hu⯑man Poetry and yet be deſpicable in the Divine. Beſides as Religion ſupplies us with greater Ideas than any thing Human can do; ſo it re⯑quires greater Enthuſiaſm and a greater Spirit to attend them, as has been ſhewn above too. So that Sacred Poetry requires not only a very great Capacity, but a very warm and Strong Imagination; which is a happy mixture that is to be met with in a very few, and ev'n of thoſe few not one in a Thouſand per⯑haps applies himſelf to ſacred Poetry. And ev'n of thoſe rare ones who have apply'd themſelves hardly one of the Moderns has known the true uſe that ought to be made of Religion in Poetry. Milton, indeed happen'd upon it, in his Paridiſe loſt, I ſay hap⯑pen'd upon it, becauſe He has err'd [113] very widely from it in his Paradiſe Regain'd, as ſhall be ſhewn in its pro⯑per place. The Rules for Employ⯑ing Religion in Poetry are Principal⯑ly theſe which follow.

1. The Firſt is, That the Reli⯑gion ought to be one, that the Poet may be mov'd by it, and that he may appear to be in ear⯑neſt. And the not obſerving of this Rule, was one Reaſon why Spencer miſcarried as we ſhall ſhew anon.

2. The Second Rule, That the Religion which the Poet Employs ought to be the Reigning one, that both the Poet and the Rea⯑ders may be mov'd the more by a Religion in which they were bred. And this Rule may acquaint us with one of the reaſons why all who have tranſlated Homer and Virgil, have ſucceeded ſo very indiffe⯑rently.

[114] 3. The Third is that it may run thro' and be incorporated with the Action of the Poem, and conſe⯑quently that it may always be a part of Action and Productive of Action, for from the neglect of this Third Rule, ſtrange inequali⯑ties would follow in a Poem, as ſhall be ſhewn more at large, when we treat of Spencer and Cowley.

4. The Fourth Rule is, That the Religion may be manag'd ſo as to promote the violence of the En⯑thuſiaſtick Paſſions and their change and variety; and the conſtituting his Subject contrary to this Rule, was one great reaſon why Milton did not ſucceed in his Paradiſe Regain'd.

5. That it may not hinder the Violence of the ordinary Paſſions, nor the Change and Variety of them; and the not conſtituting his Subject according to this [115] Rule is the chief reaſon, why Homer in his Odyſſes fell ſo far ſhort of his Iliads; and Milton of his Paradiſe Loſt, in his Paradiſe Regain'd.

6. That the Religion be manag'd ſo as not to obſtruct the violence of Action, which is always attend⯑ed by the violence of ordinary Paſſion; and the not obſerving of this, was one great Reaſon of the miſcarriage of Homer and Milton, in the foremention'd Poems.

7. That the Divine and Humane Perſons if there be any, may have Inclinations and Affections, which Taſſo's Celeſtial Perſons have not, nor as I Remember Cowley's.

8. That they be fairly diſtin⯑guiſh'd from one another, by thoſe Inclinations and Affections. And this is the great Advantage that the Grecian Machines, have for the moſt part over thoſe in our Re⯑ligion. Yet Milton has pretty well [116] diſtinguiſh'd his Celeſtial Perſons from one another, and his Infernal ones admirably.

4. That they be fairly diſtinguiſh⯑ed from the Human Perſons, by the ſame Inclinations and Affections. And here Milton in his Infernal Perſons has undeniably the Advan⯑tage, both of Ancients and Moderns. The Paſſions and Inclinations of the Graecian Gods, are downright Human Inclinations and Affections. The Paſſions of Miltons's Devils have enough of Humanity in them to make them delightful, but then they have a great deal more to make them admirable and may be ſaid to be the true Paſſions of Devils; but the time to ſpeak more largely of this will be when we come to the Epick Poets.

But now as we have ſhewn that the Religion Reveal'd in the Old and New Teſtament is proper, nay Neceſſary to give the laſt force and Elevation to Poetry; we ſhall [117] now Endeavour to Convince the Reader that Poetry is proper if not Neceſſary, to give force to that Religion. For indeed there are Du⯑ties in this Religion, which cannot be worthily perform'd without the a ſſiſtance of Poetry. As the offe⯑ring up Praiſe and Thankſgiving and ſeveral ſorts of Pray'r to God; and the Celebrating the Wonders of his Might? Becauſe if the Ideas which theſe Subjects afford; are expreſt with Paſſion equal to their greatneſs, that which expreſſes them is Poetry, for that which makes Poetry to be what it is, is only becauſe it has more Paſſion than any other way of writing.

It is Ridiculous to Imagine that there can be a more proper way to Ex⯑preſs ſome parts and Duties of a Re⯑ligion which we believe to be Di⯑vinely inſpir'd, than the very way in which they were at firſt deli⯑ver'd. Now the moſt Important part of the Old Teſtament was deliver'd not only in a Poetical [118] Style but in Poetical Numbers. The moſt Important parts of the Old Teſtament to us are the Propheſies. Becauſe without them we could never be ſatisfied that Jeſus is the Meſſiah, For the Prophets were Poets by the Inſtitution of their Order, and Poetry was one of the Prophetick Functions, which were chiefly Three. 1. Predicting or foretelling things to come. 2. Declaring the will of God to the People. And 3. Praiſing God with Songs of the Prophets compoſing, accompanied with the Harp and other Inſtrumental Muſick. From whence it came to paſs, that praiſing God upon ſuch kind of Inſtruments, is often in the Scrip⯑tures call'd Prophecying, as Mr. Mede has obſerv'd in his Diatribae; and has prov'd it from ſeveral Paſ⯑ſages of the Old Teſtament, and more particularly from the 3 Firſt Verſes of the 25th Ch. of the Chro⯑nicles, which are as follows.

V. 1.Moreover David and the Captains of the Hoſt, ſeperated to [119] the Service of the Sons of Aſaph, and of Heman, and of Jeduthun, ſuch as ſhould Propheſie with Harps, with Pſalteries and with Cymbals, and the Number of the Workmen accord⯑ing to their ſervice was

V. 2. Of the Sons of Aſaph; Zac⯑car, and Joſeph, and Nethaniah and Aſarelah, the Sons of Aſaph; under the Hands of Aſaph, which Propheſied according to the Order of the King.

V. 3.Of Jeduthun, the Sons of Jeduthun, Gedaliah and Zeri and Je⯑ſhaiah, Haſhabiah, and Metithiah Six, under the Hands of their Father Jeduthun, who Propheſied with a Harp, to give thanks and to praiſe the Lord.

Nor was their Poetical Talent confin'd to their Praiſe and thankſ⯑giving, but is to be ſeen in their Predictions too as we ſaid before, and in their declaring the Will of God to the People.

As the Prophets were Poets by their Inſtitution, ſo when the Son [120] of God himſelf, came down from Heaven in order to reform the Earth, He who was a Prophet as well as a Prieſt and a King, did by conſequence diſcharge the Three Prophetical Functions, of which the Poetical has been ſhewn to be one. And conſequently tho' our Saviour did not make uſe of a Style, that was Figurative and Enthuſiaſtick; becauſe he Inſtructed the World as God, and as God He could not feel either Admiration or Terrour, or the reſt of the Enthuſia⯑ſtick Paſſions, yet we find that He not only prais'd God with ſpi⯑ritual Songs, but that the Method of His Inſtruction was entirely Poetical, that is by Fables or Pa⯑rables, contriv'd and plac'd and adapted to work very ſtrongly up⯑on Human Paſſions.

Thus the Prophets among the Jews were Poets, and the Divine Inſtitutor of the Chriſtian Religi⯑on being a Prophet, by a Poetical method inſtructed and reform'd the [121] World. And ev'n the Graecian Poets pretending to diſcharge the Three Prophetical Functions, were not only vulgarly reputed Prophets but were ftyl'd ſo by St. Paul Himſelf, who quoting a verſe out of Epimenides in the Epiſtle which He wrote to Titus, calls that Cretenſian Poet a Prophet. As one of their own Pro⯑phets has ſaid.

Thus we have made it very plain, that not only the Predictions but the Praiſe and Thankſgiving, in the Inſpir'd Writers were written in Verſe; as were likewiſe ſeveral of the Prayers, and the Inſtructions, and in ſhort the Nobleſt and moſtIm⯑portant part of the Old Teſtament: Now if they were written in Po⯑etry, it could be for no other Rea⯑ſon, but becauſe they who wrote them, Believ'd that the Figurative Paſſionate Style, and the Poetical Numbers did by Right of Nature belong to them, and Conſe⯑quently were requiſite to inforce them upon the Minds of Men. And [122] here we cannot as it were help ob⯑ſerving, that for the Scriptures to make all the Impreſſion that they are Capable of making upon Men of very good parts, and perhaps too upon others, all thoſe parts of them that were written in Verſe ought to be tranſlated in Verſe; and by Perſons who are the moſt qua⯑lify'd to do it with Force and Har⯑mony. For if the Paſſion and Harmony were thought requiſite by the Original Writers, who were Divinely inſpir'd to give force to the Hebrew; why ſhould not Spi⯑rit and Paſſion and Numbers in a Tranſlation give a Proportionable force to that? For if Harmony of it ſelf is of force to lift up our Thoughts to Heaven, as our Clergy ſeem to Emply by the uſe of it in our Churches; and may be gathered from what happen'd to Eliſha in the Second of Kings, when they would have had him Propheſie at a time when the Spirit of Propheſie Ch. 3. v. 15. was not upon him. Where the Prophet ſays, now bring me a Minſtrel, and it came to paſs [123] as the Minſtrel plaid that the Hand of the Lord came upon him.

If Harmony I ſay is of it ſelf ſo ef⯑ficacious, what muſt it not be, when Incorporated with a Religi⯑gious Senſe, and a Poetical Style. There can certainly be no better way to Reform the World than the reading of thoſe Writings which we believe to be divinely inſpir'd; But this is as certain, that the greater the pleaſure is with which we Read them, we ſhall the more frequently diſcharge that Duty, but to make us read them with more pleaſure than we do, they muſt have more of the agreableneſs of their Originals, that is more Perſpicuity, more Force and more Harmony. This would more particularly attract the Gentry, and particularly thoſe of the moſt Extraordinary Parts among them, whoſe examples would influ⯑ence the reſt as the reſt would influ⯑ence the People. For they of extra⯑ordinary Parts for the moſt part being Extreamly delighted with Poetry, [124] and finding the greateſt and moſt exalted Poetry upon Religious Sub⯑jects, would by degrees become more us'd to be mov'd by Sacred Ideas than they would by prophane; that is would by degrees become re⯑form'd. That this is by no means a Chimera, Experience may ſerve to convince us. For I know ſeveral Gentlemen of very good Senſe who are extreamly mov'd by Miltons Hymn in the fifth Book of Paradiſe loſt, and hardly at all ſtirr'd with the Tranſlation of the 148 Pſalm from whence that Hymn is taken. But if Men of very good parts are more mov'd by the Hymn, it follows that they ought to be more mov'd by it; becauſe Men of very good Senſe are only mov'd to that Degree by things by which they ought to be mov'd. So that we may Conclude that the Paſſi⯑on or Enthuſiaſm in that Hymn is exactly in Nature, that is, that the Enthuſiaſm, or Paſſion, or Spirit call it what you will, flows from the Ideas, and bears a juſt Propor⯑tion to them.

[125] But from hence at the ſame time it follows, that ſince thoſe Perſons who are ſo much mov'd by the Hymn, are not equally ſtirr'd by the Translated Pſalm, the Paſ⯑ſion or Spirit is leſs in the latter and do's not come up to the Ideas; and therefore we may conclude that Milton by his Genius and Har⯑mony has reſtor'd that Spirit in Compoſing the Hymn, which had been loſt by the weakneſs of the Tranſlation and the want of Poe⯑tical Numbers. Which laſt as we have ſaid before contribute very much to the raiſing of Paſſion.

What Milton has done in relation to the 148 Pſalm, others may do in a leſs proportion to other parts of the Old Teſtament, till the Fa⯑vour of the Prince and publick En⯑couragement cauſes another Milton to ariſe and apply Himſelf to ſo neceſſary and ſo noble a work. For this is certain that there are not wanting great Genius's to every Age. But they do not equally ap⯑pear [126] in every Age, ſometimes for want of knowing themſelves; and ſome⯑times for want of Encouragement and leiſure to exert themſelves. The buſineſs of the following Treatiſe is to ſhew them how they may try and know, and form themſelves, which is all that I am capable of attempting towards the Reſtoring ſo uſeful and ſo noble an Art. If I were in a Condi⯑tion to give them Encouragement too they ſhould not be long with⯑out it. If they who ſo much ex⯑ceed me in Pow'r, did but equal me in Will, we ſhould ſoon ſee Poetry raiſe up its dejected Head, and our own might come to emu⯑late the Happieſt of Grecian and Roman Ages.

And thus much may ſuffice to ſhew the Nature of Poetry, but chiefly of the greater Poetry, and the Importance of this De⯑ſign. For ſince Poetry has been thought not only by Heathens, but by the Writers of the Old Teſta⯑ment, and conſequently by God Himſelf who inſpir'd them, to be [127] the fitteſt method for the inforcing Religion upon the Minds of Men, and ſince Religion is the only ſolid Foundation of all Civil Society, it follows, that whoever Endea⯑vours to Re-eſtabliſh Poetry, makes a generous attempt to reſtore an Art, that may be highly Advan⯑tageous to the Publick, and Bene⯑ficial to Mankind.