PREFACE.

I Muſt confeſs I cannot in the Beginning of this Pre⯑face beſpeak the Reader's good Opinion, by infor⯑ming him that I was put upon the following Work by the Command of ſome great Man, who has Pow'r and Intereſt. My Friends can bear me witneſs that I wanted no ſuch Incitement: That as ſoon as ever I heard of the Victory I reſolv'd upon writing the Verſes; And though my Intereſt at that time, as all who know me know very well, extreamly requir'd that I ſhould do ſomething elſe, yet it was enough for me that I look'd upon my ſelf to be oblig'd to do this, by the Duty which I owe to the Publick; which I have al⯑ways preferr'd before my Intereſt. Thus I quickly came to a Reſolution of writing the following Verſes, but as to the Form and the Manner of them I re⯑main'd ſomething doubtful, till I was determined by her Majeſty's Proclamation for a general Thanks⯑giving. And that joyn'd to the Conſideration of re⯑ducing ſome former critical Speculations into Pra⯑ctice, made me reſolve as far I was able to make the following Verſes turn upon Religion. My Deſign, [] when I began them, was to publiſh them upon the 7th of September, but beſides that ill Health interve⯑ning caus'd Delay, I ſoon found to my Sorrow that a Poem is not ſo eaſily compos'd as a Prayer.

If the following Poem has any Degree of Force or Elevation in it, the judicious Reader will eaſily diſ⯑cern that it owes them in a great meaſure to the Reli⯑gion which is mingled with it; for Religion, as I have formerly prov'd, is the beſt and moſt ſolid Foun⯑dation of a great and lofty Spirit in Poetry.

If any one objects that the Religion is double in the following Poem, he will find upon a more ſtrict Enquiry that he is miſtaken. For tho' I have made the Danube a Perſon, that is not making him a Hea⯑then God. David has done the ſame thing by Jor⯑dan, and Deborah by Kiſhon.

I reſolv'd to make the Religion that is mingled with the following Verſes, as Poetical as I could with⯑out making it Pagan. Though Fame is call'd a God⯑deſs there; I by no means deſign the Goddeſs of the Ancient Poets; but an Angel or Celeſtial Spirit: For which I have the Authority of Milton, who in the ſeventh Book of his Poem, by Urania does not mean the Heathen Muſe, tho' he calls her Goddeſs, but an Angel or Celeſtial Spirit. And he there makes a ſecond Invocation which is addreſt to her, after he has invok'd God himſelf in the Beginning of his Poem. 'Tis true indeed Angels have been always painted Maſculine, but without either any ſufficient Reaſon or divine Authority. If they have Bodies I ſee no Reaſon why they mayn't be of both Sexes. If they have none, I cannot imagine how they can be of [] either. But a Poet who muſt of Neceſſity give them Bodies before they can be proper Machines for him; ſince he gives them the Beauty of Women may very well give them the Sex too.

The following Verſes were written without Rime, which I have a long time believed to be below the Ma⯑jeſty of the greater Poetry; for which I have the Au⯑thority of three eminent Poets, Mr. Milton, my Lord Roſcommon, and Mr. Dryden. The Reader may ſee Mr. Milton's Sentiments in the Preface to his Paradiſe loſt, and Mr. Drydens, and my Lord Roſcommon's before the Beginning and at the End of the Eſſay on tranſlated Verſe.

But only the Humble or the Weak will yield to meet Human Authority. They who are conceited of their own Underſtandings will ſubmit to Reaſon alone; And yet methinks the former Authorities carry Rea⯑ſon along with them: For they who beſt underſtand a Controverſy, if they have Sincerity, are fitteſt to decide it. Now the Sincerity of the three foremen⯑tioned Writers in relation to Rime ought never to be call'd in queſtion; for Mr. Dryden and my Lord Roſcommon are known to have exploded it, at the very time that they wrote in it; and Mr. Milton was very well known to be one who would not deceive either himſelf or his Reader. It therefore follows that thoſe three Gentlemen had leſs Underſtanding of the Efficacy of Poetry, and the Power of Numbers, than our vulgar Readers who are fond of Rime, or that Rime was very juſtly condemned by them.

We ſhall now with as much Brevity as we can, give ſome Reaſons that are independant of Authority, why [] Rime muſt of Neceſſity debaſe the Majeſty and weaken the Spirit of the greater Poetry, which, bceauſe the Arguments are entirely new, may not perhaps be diſ⯑agreeable to thoſe who have a taſt of Poetry.

The Sentiments in Poetry ereate the Spirit, or the Paſſion, which are but two Words for the ſame thing; and the Spirit or Paſſion produces the Expreſſion, and begets the Harmony. Now 'tis the Expreſſion which ſhews the Spirit, and 'tis the Harmony which cauſes it to make its utmoſt Impreſſion. And when all theſe things are adjuſted, when the Sentiments are adapted to the Subject, the Spirit or Paſſion in a juſt Degree to the Sentiments, and the Harmony and the Ex⯑preſſion to the particular Kind and Degree of Spirit or Paſſion, why then the Reſult of all this is what the Men of Art call Perfection or the Truth of Na⯑ture. I know indeed very well, that Expreſſion and Harmony go together, becauſe the Expreſſion includes the Harmony; yet for the better clearing of the Mat⯑ter we ſhall diſtinctly treat of them.

This then is certain, that ev'ry Sentiment or Thought has a Degree of Spirit, or Paſſion, or Fire, call it what you pleaſe, which is proper to it, and every thing above or below that Degree is utterly wrong. Now this is as certain that there is but juſt one Expreſſion which can convey that Spirit or Paſſion in its true Proportion. And every thing that is not that one Expreſſion is falſe, and weakens the Spirit, and obſcures the Sentiment. Now Nature whoſe Sa⯑gacity is moſt admirable, and her Operations of Cele⯑rity almoſt infinite, and who goes the ſhorteſt way to her Works, very often dictates that Expreſſion at [] firſt, eſpecially in the greater Poetry, where the Ima⯑gination is always warm, and the Thoughts are al⯑ways flowing.

But this is plain from common Experience, that the Expreſſion, which Nature dictates at firſt, and whieh is powerful, ſounding, ſignificant, and in ſhort the true one, is very often alter'd upon the Ac⯑count of the Rhime. And a Word or two are chang'd, which deſtroys its Beauty, and the greater part of its Force; makes it leſs ſtrong, leſs ſounding, leſs ſigni⯑ficant, and weakens the Spirit, and ſets the Senti⯑ment in a falſe Light: From whence it follows that Rime in the greater Poetry running counter to Nature muſt be againſt Art.

But as every Sentiment has but one particular Ex⯑preſſion which of Right belongs to it, ſo that Expreſ⯑ſion has but one particular Harmony which is adapted to that peculiar Degree of Spirit which naturally at⯑tends on the Sentiment. Now Nature, who, as we obſerved before, is wonderful in her Operations, very often in the greater Poetry dictates that Harmony together with the Expreſſion. Every Poet muſt know by Experience that the Harmony which we naturally ſlide into in the greater Poetry is that of Blank Verſe, which whenever we are oblig'd to alter to in⯑troduce the Rime, we for the moſt part impair the Harmony, infeeble the Expreſſion, debaſe the Spirit, and ſet the Sentiment in a wrong View.

There can be no nearer Relation between any two things in the World, than there is, in writing, be⯑tween Paſſion and Harmony. Harmony may be ſaid to be both the Father and the Child of Paſſion: 'tis [] produced by it, and begets it; and the more pathetick any Diſcourſe is, the more harmoni⯑ous it muſt of Neceſſity be. Even of Diſcourſes in Proſe, thoſe are the moſt muſical which are the moſt paſſionate. The Orations of Cicero have more harmonious Periods than his philoſophical Diſ⯑courſes. And therefore Poetry is more harmonious than Proſe becauſe it is more pathetick. And the more pathetick Poetry is, the greater muſt be its Har⯑mony. And therefore the Spirit, the Paſſion, the Fire, or the Flame, being very great in the greater Poetry, and ſometimes very violent, have as it were a natural Tendency to the producing perfect Har⯑mony.

But Rime being utterly falſe in Harmony, as we ſhall ſhew immediately, muſt be contrary to true Paſ⯑ſion, and to the greater Poetry. Rime is the ſame thing in Relation to Harmony that a Pun is in Re⯑lation to Wit; as a Pun is falſe Wit, or a fooliſh Affectation of Wit, Rime is falſe Harmony, or an Affectation of Harmony. Rime may not ſo abſurdly be ſaid to be the Pun of Harmony.

There are in our Engliſh Poetry four things which have been thought to cndouce to Harmony; which are Number, Meaſure, Cadence, and Rime. Of theſe the three firſt conſiſt of ſeveral different Sounds which are dependant one of another.

Rime is wholly independant of the other three; and conſiſts in the greater Poetry but of two Sounds, which are Uniſons. Now I appeal to all the Maſters of Muſick if Uniſons can make any Harmony. Har⯑mony is the Agreement of different Sounds, and the [] Perfection of Harmony is the Agreement of diſcord⯑ant Sound by the Mediation of others. And there is a great deal of Chromatick Harmony in Poetry as well as in Muſick. And ſuch particularly is a great deal of Virgil's Harmony. Well then! Rime conſiſting of Uniſons can have no Harmony in it ſelf, and be⯑ing independant of Numbers, Cadence and Meaſure can never promote the Harmony which they produce. And a Poet's conſtant Application to rime, diverts his Application, in a great Degree, from Numbers, Meaſure, and Cadence, and conſequently is a ſevere Reſtraint upon the three Producers of Harmony. And as it diverts the Application of the Writer, ſo by al⯑luring the Attention of vulgar Readers, it diverts them from the other three.

But beſides that, Rime, by the Conſtraint that it puts upon the Writer, impairs the Beauty and the natural Force of the Expreſſion, and the Power of true Harmony; it has ſomething effeminate in its jingling Nature, and emaſculates our Engliſh Verſe, and conſequently is utterly unſit for the greater Poetry. Engliſh Tragedies that have been writ in Rime moſt of them rowl upon Love. The Soul of a Tragick Poet, who has giv'n himſelf up to Rime, has ſeldom been capable of Terror or Majeſty, or the In⯑ſtruction of the nobleſt Philoſophy, or any thing that is truly great.

Beſides Rime has in its Nature ſomething that is low and comical, and the more of Rime there is in a Verſe, the nearer it comes to the Comick. Double Rimes are more comical than the Single, and Treble Ones than Either. A Rime alone is very often a Jeſt, [] as all who are acquainted with Hudibras very well know; but never any one was extravagant enough to affirm that there was any thing great and noble in Rime alone.

But the laſt Conſideration but one, viz. The Effemi⯑nacy of Rime, and the Influence which it had upon Tragedy, brings me to enquire further into the Mat⯑ter of Fact; and to add the Proof of Experience to thoſe which we have drawn from Authority and Rea⯑ſon. For Men of Senſe are too proud to yield to Au⯑thority, and Fools are too weak to ſubmit to Reaſon, but Experience, which never deceived any one, carries Conviction both for the one and the other.

The Matter of Fact then is, that moſt of our Plays that have been writ in Rime, have been moſt abominably out of Nature. And where in Rime we have one tolerable Tragedy, in Blank Verſe we have ten. So that thoſe very numerical Perſons who de⯑clare for Rime in other kinds of Poetry, are utterly againſt it in Tragedy. But not only the Tragedies in Blank Verſe are the beſt, but the very beſt of our Epick Poems is writ in the ſame Verſe. And that is the Paradiſe loſt of Milton. And though this may in ſome Meaſure be attributed to the admirable and ex⯑traordinary Choice of the Subject, yet I am ſatisfied that ſomething of its Excellence is owing to the Blank Verſe. For Mr. Dryden has handled the very ſame Subject in Rime, but has faln ſo infinitely ſhort of the Sublimity, the Majeſty, the Vehemence, and the other great Qualities of Milton, that they are never to be nam'd together.

[] Well! But ſince it is manifeſt from what has been ſaid, that Rime is prejudicial both to Poetry and to true Harmony. The Reader may very naturally enquire how it came at firſt to be introduced into our Engliſh Verſe? Why, Milton has given a very good Account of that; It was, ſays he, the Invention of a barbarous Age, to ſet of wretched Matter and lame Meeter. When Rime was firſt introduced into this Iſland, the Language was without Harmony, and the Writers were without Genius. And Rime after all that has been ſaid againſt it, muſt be allowed to be an admirable Invention to conceal the want of Spi⯑rit, and the want of Harmony. Verſe with Rime ſeems to me to be like the Muſick of a Bagpipe, where the Drone, by continually ſtunning your Ears, hinders you from nicely enquiring into the Notes. And what a dexterous Expedient Rime is to conceal the want of Genius, may appear abundantly from moſt of the Riming Plays that were writ and acted in King Charles the Second's Time. In moſt of which it is very plain that Rime made extravagant Simile paſs for Nature, abominable Fuſtan for fine Language, ri⯑diculous Rant for great Spirit, and ſenſeleſs Whining for true Paſſion. Well! But is our Language now without Harmony? So far from that that it is the moſt muſical perhaps of the Weſtern. Are now our Writers without Genius! No certainly; not all of them. But why does Rime continue then? Why is it writ? Why does it pleaſe! Why, in the firſt place, there are Thouſands who read Rime, who never ſo much as heard of Blank Verſe; and when we conſi⯑der thoſe who have heard of it, we have little Reaſon [] to wonder that a great many of them can by no means taſt it, if we reflect upon the Prevalence of Prejudice, and the Force of Cuſtom. They who read Poetry, have been us'd to Rime from their Infancy; and what cannot long Habititude render agreeable? Let us inſtance particularly in Sounds. Enquire of the Inhabitants of London Bridge, if the Fall of the Water there is not grown as it were natural to them by long uſe? Ask them if it be not neceſſary either to compoſe their Spirits, or to keep them up? If they do not ſleep with the more Soundneſs for it, and wake with the more Chearfulneſs? Examine a Fellow who has liv'd all his Life in a Paper-mill, and he ſhall aſſure you, that not only the Running round of the Wheels, and the hurrying Noiſe of the Mill, but even the inſupportable Jangling of the Cogs, is a thing that ſooths him, is a thing that pleaſes him; that he is melancholly when he is long out of the Hearing of it; and even weary and ſick of leſs tumultuons Sounds. Nay ask even a Fellow that has been bred to ſawing of Marble, and he ſhall tell you that the Sound which it makes is Muſick to him. And ſaw⯑ing of Marble, is next to Riming, the moſt imperti⯑nent Noiſe in Nature.

After what has been ſaid, no Man will wonder if Readers, who have all their Life Time been uſed to Rime, ſoon grow weary and ſick of true Harmony un⯑leſs in Caſe of a delicate Ear, which is ſo rare a Gift of Nature, that it has been obſerved in every Nation that Harmony has been the very laſt thing that has been improved in Poetry, and as ſoon as in any Na⯑tion the Poetical Harmony has grown perfect, there the whole Art of Poetry has been accompliſh'd.

[] But to come from the Readers of Poetry to the Writers: Theſe laſt are of two Sorts; the good and the bad. The bad will certainly endeavour to main⯑tain Rime, becauſe Rime does in ſome meaſure con⯑ceal their want of Ear, and their want of Genius, and is perhaps as neceſſary to the giving them a ſort of a dull Mettle, and to the keeping them jogging on with their Burden of Dulneſs, as Bells are requiſite to a Cart-horſe or to a Pack-horſe; which very Bells upon the Courſe at New-Market, would but render the Racer ridiculous, and would but ſtop his Speed. Rime has the laſt of theſe Effects upon a good Writer, and would have the firſt, if it were not for the Force of Cuſtom. And 'tis the Prevalence of Cu⯑ſtom alone, that keeps good Writers faſt to it. Some great Men who have writ well in ſpight of it, ſerve to keep them in Countenance: for they little conſider that thoſe great Men would have writ much better, if they had writ without it. Beſides the Buſineſs of moſt even good Writers is to make themſelves popular, there are but few, very few of them who are capable of ſacrificing their Intereſt ro their Reputations, and to the Service which they do to the Publick by improving a noble Art; and they are rather vain than ambiti⯑ous, and had rather have a preſent general Applauſe, than a Reputation in time to come laſting and univer⯑ſal.

The univerſal uſe of Blank Verſe in Tragedy, and be ſpreading Fame of Milton is a ſure Prognoſtick of he decaying Reputation of Rime. A Man may ven⯑ure to foretell without incurring the Cenſure of being [...] or viſionary; that before this Century is half expir'd [] Rime will be wholly baniſhed from our greater Poetry. A Cuſtom that has been a long time generally received, cannot be broke at once; but nothing that is falſe can remain always. 'Tis true indeed, Pre⯑judice, and Opinion, and Intereſt, and Vanity are frequent Friends to Falſhood; but Time, the moſt ſagacious of all Criticks, will ſurely be a Friend to Truth.

I deſire that the Reader would take notice that it is only in the greater Poetry that I have been condemning Rime. It may do well enough in Amorous Verſes, and it may be neceſſary in ſome ſorts of Satyr. For the following Verſes, I do not pretend that becauſe they are without Rime they are without all Defects; If I had had more time they ſhould have been leſs numerous, and ſome Expreſſions ſhould not have been repeated. Not but that there are ſeveral Repetitions in the follow⯑ing Poem which were ſtudied and ſought for upon the acc ount ofGrace and Ornament, but there is here and there one which ſhould have been omitted.