1.

An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the FIRST.

[1]

ANTIPHAUS manag'd his Affairs ſo as to get this Winter ſooner than uſual to the Country-ſeat of his Friend Philypſus. It is there that he paſſes his time, when ever he can clear himſelf from the hurry of Buſineſs, in a retirement every way agreeable; and in a full enjoyment of thoſe Pleaſures, which attend on a particular Friendſhip, in an open and improving Converſation. The Converſation there does not run in the preſent polite way of ſaying and ſaying nothing; when alone, they uſually fall into ſome Points of Learning; and as bo [...]h of them are particularly fond of Poetry, [2] their Diſputes turn more frequently on that Subject, than any other. Indeed their differing in Sentiment can ſcarce be call'd Diſputes; for whenever their Thoughts do not meet, each of them ſhews a diffidence in his own Opinion, and a willingneſs to ſubmit to the Judgment of his Friend.

It is by this means that they fall into each others Sentiments, more than cou'd well be expected from Men of ſo different a Turn. The enlarged Genius of Philypſus always led him to dwell upon the moſt beautified Parts of a Poem with the greateſt Pleaſure; while Antiphaüs, who has a very clear Head, and has given much into a ſtrict way of thinking, is taken moſt with juſt Deſcriptions, and plain natural Ideas: The one was ſo poſſeſt with the Pleaſure which he felt from fine Thoughts and warm Expreſſions, that He did not take a full Satisfaction in low Beauty, and ſimple Repreſentations of Nature; the other, on the contrary, had ſuch an averſion to glitterings and elevation, that he was diſtaſted at any the leaſt appearance of either. If the latter was prejudiced for the Ancients, from the Purity and Juſtneſs, which we find in moſt of their Works; Philypſus had his foible too, and [3] was ſometimes caught by the Flouriſh and Colouring of the Moderns. In a word, if Philypſus wou'd ſometimes contemn a Point as low and mean, tho' in reality proper enough, and naturally expreſs'd; Antiphaus, in his turn, might happen now and then to blame a Paſſage which requir'd a good degree of Ornament, as being too glaring and artificial.

Among ſeveral other Topicks, one Evening, they happen'd to fall into a diſcourſe on Mr. Pope's new Tranſlation of the Odyſſey. As they both found Beauties in that Piece agreeable to their particular Taſtes, they had read it over with a great deal of Pleaſure: however Philypſus was the Perſon who admired it the moſt. "There are ſome Lines, ſays he to Antiphaus (pointing to the Odyſſey which lay before them) there are ſome Favourites of mine in that Poem, which you muſt not look upon with your uſual ſeverity: Prithee Antiphaus, be more ſenſible to the Flame and Spirit of a Writer, who is evidently Our preſent Laureate in Genius, and the moſt enliven'd Tranſlator of the Age. "I will very readily allow what you ſay of that Great Man, return'd Antiphaus; and ſhall always pay a deference to your more lively taſte of the Fine and Sublime in Poetry; [4] but you muſt give me leave to diſſent from you in ſome Particulars: if I do not agree with your Sentiments, in relation to ſeveral Lines and Paſſages of that Tranſlation, 'tis perhaps becauſe I fall ſo much ſhort of you, in your inward ſenſe of the high and elevated Beauties of Language. As I cannot imagine that to be the reaſon, ſays Philypſus, I beg to hear thoſe Particulars you talk'd of; I am perſwaded, ſeveral of the Paſſages, which I have obſerv'd you to be leſs taken with in reading the Tranſlation, will upon a cloſer view appear to be really Beauties; to tell you the truth, I long to make a Convert of you; and beg you wou'd be full and large in communicating whatever Remarks you have made on this Performance. The Evenings are long; we have ſufficient time upon our Hands; and I know not how we can paſs it away more agreeably.

Antiphaus paus'd for ſome time, and ſeem'd to be taken up in recollecting his Thoughts on this Point: at laſt taking a Tablet out of his Pocket, ‘Since you deſire it (ſays he) I will ſhew you what Obſervations I made as I went over the Work; they are the Thoughts which ſtruck me en paſſant, and many of them will perhaps appear little and trifling.’

[5] You will allow me, I believe, in the firſt place, That Lines very good in themſelves, may be bad when conſider'd as a Tranſlation. The aim of a Tranſlator is to give us the Spirit of the Original; and where the Original is juſt, the very manner is to be obſerv'd. By the Manner, I would not intend the expreſs words, or the meer turn of a Period; but that the Imitation ought to be eaſy, ſimple, and unadorn'd, wherever the firſt Writer uſes either of thoſe Styles with Judgment. You are well acquainted with that plain humble manner of Homer, which is more particularly kept up by him in the Odyſſey: And as much as I admire ſeveral parts in this Tranſlation, I cannot but think there are places in it, which differ from the Manner of Homer, without ſufficient reaſon for a Change. The Poet, in ſeveral parts of that Work, ſeems to me to have let fall ſome Lines that are forc'd; ſome of too much flouriſh, and ornament; and a few, even ſwelling, and unnatural; where the Original is with good reaſon plain, and natural, [...]nd unadorn'd.

Where we admire the Simplicity of Homer with Juſtice, we cannot avoid blaming the want of it in his Tranſlator. Mr. Pope intimates in one of his a Notes, [6] That no Reproach has ever fall'n upon Homer, in relation to his ſinking too Low, or being too Familiar; That as to theſe Particulars he preſerves an Univerſal Juſtneſs: and that there is not any one place in his Poem, which can be juſtly cenſur'd upon this account. If ſo, a Tranſlator of Homer has no occaſion for raiſing any thing, beyond what it is in the Original; If he follows his Maſter it is ſufficient: All additional Flouriſh and Glitterings, where we ſhould meet with the plain and the familiar, are at beſt ſo many beautiful Excreſcencies.

There is one Caſe, which ſeems more particularly to lead Mr. Pope into a glaring Stile: 'tis almoſt ever to be found in his Deſcriptions of Day, of Light, and of the Morning. 'Tis true, theſe are ſubjects which in themſelves may require ſome brightneſs in the language; but there is a great difference between giving one Light, and dazling ones Eyes. Beſide the conformity to the Original, there is another certain and eaſy way of judging, whether the Brightning in theſe or any other Points, be proper or not: that Light, we may be ſure, falls in a wrong manner, or an undue proportion, which does not make the thing more viſible.

[7] There are of theſe Deſcriptions, Philypſus, which ſeem both to refine too much upon the Original, and to err according to this Rule. Did you ever obſerve thoſe lines on one of the moſt agreeable Images in the World, The break of Day? they are in the beginning of the third Book: If you will give me leave, I will read them to you.

The ſacred Sun [...] above the Waters rais'd,
Thro' Heaven's eternal, brazen Portals blaz'd;
And wide o'er Earth diffus'd his ch [...]aring Ray,
To Gods and Men, to give the golden Day.

Several of theſe Expreſſions ſeemed to me at firſt ſight to take from the Nature and Simplicity of the Deſcription; and when I turn'd to the Greek, I found thoſe very Expreſſions to have no Foundation there. 'Tis the ſame Caſe in the following Lines:

a Soon as the Morn, in o [...]ient Purple dreſt,
Unbarr'd the Portal of the roſeate Eaſt &c.
b—When the Morning-Star with early Ray
Flam'd in the front of Heaven, &c.—

You will find theſe ſhort Sketches in Homer to be much more ſimple and natural: [8] I leave it to your Judgment, whether they appear better with theſe Colourings, or not. To add one Inſtance more of the ſame thing. Is it more proper for Circe to tell Ulyſſes, That he ſhould ſtay that Night with her, and ſet ſail the next Morning? or to hear her giving him leave, to

aSpread his broad Sails, and plough the liquid way,
Soon as the Morn unveils her Saffron Ray.

I muſt own, ſays Philypſus, this would have been more fit for the Deſcription of a Voyage, than for a Speech: in a Place too, where we only find Orders given for ſetting Sail at ſuch a time.

To me, proceeded Antiphaus, Mr. Pope ſeems to Beautify too much in ſeveral other Points, beſide thoſe Topicks we have been talking of: as where he calls the Nobles of Phoeacia, b A radiant Band of Noblemen; and where he introduces Helen with c a Gale of rich Perfume breathing before her. If Homer mentions Cups of ſolid Gold; in Mr. Pope,

dThe Gold gives luſtre to the purple Draught:
eAnd in the dazling Goblet laughs the Wine.

[9] You cannot but obſerve, by the way, that the Original here is deſigned to ſignify the real intrinſick Value; while only the outſide and more glittering Circumſtances are what the Engliſh dwells upon entirely: but to go on.—The Horns of a Bullock are in this new Language, a Budding Honours; and thoſe of a Ram (if I am not much miſtaken) b tranſlucent Creſcents. Pallas is well known to have had Blue Eyes given her by the Ancients; now it is

c Celeſtial Azure brightning in her Eyes.

This heightning of things, by a ſevere Critick might be thought blameable; and indeed whenever it interferes, where the Paſſions ought to be touch'd, it certainly is ſo in an higher degree. The Reader is delighted when, after a melancholly Scene, he ſees Penelope reviv'd by a Meſſage from the Gods; and d ſecretly enjoying the Satisfaction of her Soul: but what Paſſion, what Idea has he, when inſtead of this he is told of her d Hearts dilating and glowing with florid Joy?—Paint to him that unhappy [10] Princeſs in her Diſtreſs, retiring ſilently, and crying herſelf toS leep; only ſhew the Circumſtances, and the Reader muſt be moved: Does her Behaviour and her Sufferings ſtrike him ſo forcibly, when he finds it embelliſh'd into

a—Echoing Grief, and Silver-ſtreaming Eyes?

But however theſe Paſſages may ſeem to be weaken'd by the finery and luxuriance of the Language, this certainly is not ſo much the fault of Pope, as of the Age: We give much into an airy way: If a Verſe runs off ſmooth, 'tis no matter for depth or clearneſs; and as the Ancients valued Thoughts more than Sound, we ſeem to be taken with Sounds more than Thought. To ſpeak out, we are got into an idle manner of Verſifying; and if Mr. Pope ſometimes falls into it, we are not ſo much to blame him for thoſe Particulars, as to wonder, that he does not do it more frequently, in ſo general a debauch of Taſte among us.

Hold (interrupted Philypſus) if You go on at this rate, You will ſeem only to be got into the old Cant of running down our own Times: I do not believe, but that I cou'd name ſome Poet among us, [11] to anſwer any of thoſe who flouriſh'd in the Auguſtan Age. As to the preſent Point, we rarely hear of any ſuch thing as Tranſlation among them: In Satyr, we have the great Names of Rocheſter, Dryden, and Oldham: (not to mention the new kind of Satyr, introduc'd among us by Butler.) In Critical Poems, there are (You know) two or three very good, beſide that incomparable Piece by Mr. Pope, all to weigh againſt poor Horace. As for miſcellaneous Subjects; think of Cowley, Pope, Waller and Pryor, to mention no more of them. In the Epick, Milton may diſpute the Laurel with either Virgil, or Homer; and in Dramatick Pieces, of either kind, we have Writers that indiſputably exceed any of the Ancients.

Antiphaus was not inclin'd to enter into a diſpute of this nature. "I was only ſpeaking, ſays he, of our preſent Taſte in Poe [...]ry, and the prevailing manner of thoſe writers who are now upon the Stage. As to this, Philypſus, give me leave to ſay, that the language of our Writers, and the practice of the World, is much infected with the Fineſſe. I think 'tis Mr. Locke obſerves, that the humours of a People, may be learnt from their uſage of words. This ſymptom of the diſeaſe is very ſtrong in the pre [...]ent Caſe: thus to ſay that a verſe [12] is bien tourné is the higheſt commendation among the French Criticks: in general, the Beau Monde is the only name now, for what was call'd by a very different one formerly; as a fine Scholar, polite Literature, and the Belles Lettres are the leading expreſſions, when we would ſpeak of Learning in the beſt ſenſe. And I appeal to you, who are ſo well acquainted with all our Poets, whether their practiſe, in particular, does not fall more and more into the Fineſſes, we have been complaining of. We may partly judge of this from ſome Lines in the Beſt of them, the Writer whoſe Works lye before us: I was juſt going to give you a few more inſtances of it, from the Odyſſey.

Is there any Figure ſo much abus'd by the Moderns, as what they call the Antitheſis? they run it into a down right playing upon Words. Cowley's Poetry cou'd not live without it: Dryden uſes it almoſt perpetually, in his Tranſlation o [...] Virgil; and was ridicul'd, You know, o [...] that head by the late Duke of Buckingham. I have obſerv'd with pleaſure, that Mr. Pope, in his Tranſlation, very much avoids this little beauty, which the other affected ſo exceſſively; yet I have a place before me, where one of this kind ha [...] ſlipt from his Pen: It runs thus. (He [13] is ſpeaking of a Stranger's Arrival at the Court of Penelope, diſorder'd ſo much by the riot of the Suitors.)

—When, to taſte her hoſpitable board,
Some Gueſt arrives, with rumours of her Lord;
a And theſe indulge their want, and thoſe their woe;
And here the t [...]ars, and there the goblets flow.

Pardon me, ſays Philypſus, there you do not ſeem to do the Tranſlator Juſtice; the Figure is countenanc'd by Homer himſelf: You ſee here is an Antitheſis in the Original. "That (anſwer'd Antiphaus) ſeems rather to be a Contraſt, to ſet the riot of the Suitors in a ſtronger light: But call it what you pleaſe, it is only ſingle there, whereas you ſee it multiplied, and worn to Rags in the Tranſlation. This over-doing a Point is obſervable in many other Caſes, as much as in the former; and in ſome, is carried on to a degree which borders upon the Forc'd, and Unnatural.

Telemachus, burſting into Tears at the Name of his Father, end [...]avours to hide his Sorrow from Menelaus, who was then talking with him. Homer ſays only, that b Menelaus obſerv'd him; [14] which words Mr. Pope draws out into this Couplet:

The Conſcious Monarch pierc'd the coy diſguiſe,
And view'd his filial love with vaſt ſurprize.

For an humble natural Deſcription o [...] a Tripod (or Caldron) ſet upon the Fire, I wou'd recommend you to the following lines:

The Flames climb round it with a fierce embrac [...]
a The fuming Waters bubble o'er the Blaze.

But above all, in my Opinion, are theſe on a Perſon tired and quite ſpent [...]

—Loſt in laſſitude lay all the Man,
b Depriv'd of Voice, of Motion, and of Breath;
The Soul ſcarce waking, in the Arms of Death.

Or theſe:

c Ye Gods! ſince this worn frame refection knew,
What ſcenes have I ſurvey'd of dreadful view?

Wou'd you Imagine, that all which countenances this in the Original, is a Paſſage in Ulyſſes's Speech after his Shipwreck, [15] in which he intimates, That he had not bath'd for a conſiderable time?

I find it ſo, (ſays Philypſus) and own the Lines to be ſomewhat forc'd and unnatural; indeed thoſe you have repeated ſeem generally to draw too near to that Character. But I cannot conceive by what means they ſound ſo harſh to me at preſent: when I read the Piece, there was ſcarce a Line of them which gave me any offence.—Yes; it muſt be by your tearing them from the Body of the work, that they now ſeem not ſo agreeable. Really, Antiphaus, this is not ſair uſage of an Author; You rob them of their Order and Connection; and 'tis thenc [...] that they perfectly loſe the Beauty, which they had in the Whole. Very true, r [...] ply'd Antiphaus; the warmth of Reading, the thread of the Story, and a general tunableneſs in the Verſe, will carry [...] a Man on ſtrangely; and may ſometimes cheat him into a [...]alſe Pleaſure. But then it is for this very reaſon, that I ſhou'd think, the juſteſt method of forming a judgment on Particulars is, to conſider them apart. However, let us try it for once in a more entire Paſſage, than any of the former. Let me ſee; The place I have dipt upon, is where Minerva tells Ulyſſes that ſhe will transform [16] him into the figure of an Old Man; that he may view the poſture of his Affairs unſuſpected and unknown: The Lines in Homer may be thus read into Engliſh:

[...] 397, to 403.
I will make you (ſays that Goddeſs to the Hero) entirely unknown to all Men; the beauty and ſmoothneſs of your Skin ſhall be taken away, your Limbs bent, and the Hair of your Head turn'd grey. I will then fling a Garb over you that ſhall make you frightful and odious to thoſe that ſee you. All that flame and life in your Eyes ſhall be loſt; I will ſo far deform them that you ſhall look contemptible to all the Suitors, to your own Penelope, and to your Son, whom You left yet an Infant in your Palace.

You know that Mr. Pope, in comparing ſome Paſſages in the Propheſies of Iſaiah with the famous Eclogue of Virgil, turns the latter into Proſe; If we follow that Example in the preſent caſe, his Tranſlation of theſe Lines runs thus:

Od. 13. V. 453, to 464.
It fits thee at preſent, to wear a dar [...] diſguiſe, and walk ſecret, unknown to the Eyes of Mortals: For this my Hand ſha [...] wither every Beauty, and every eleganc [...] [17] of Form and Face, Spread a bark of Wrinkles over thy ſmooth Skin, turn the auburn honours of thy Head hoar, disfigure with coarſe attire every Limb, and extinguiſh all the Fire in thy Eyes; add all the decays of Life, and all the wants of it, [...]ſtrange thee from thy Own, thy Son and thy Wife; every ſight ſhall turn from the loath'd object, and the blind ſuitors ſcorn their deſtruction.

Give me leave to go out of my way a little, to try the ſame Experiment on a ſingle Paſſage from the Iliad, which is flouriſh'd, and ſet off in an extraordinary manner. It is in the Nineteenth Book, where we have a poetical account of a fine Breed of Horſes; The Original runs thus:

[...] 221. 225.
Three Thouſand Mares graz'd theſe Meads, with their young Foals running by them; Boreas was enam [...]ur'd of them as they [...]ed there, and turning himſelf into the ſhape of a fine black Horſe, accompliſh'd his deſires: Of this breed, were twelve of the Colts.

Mr. Pope's Tranſlation, (only allowing equivalent Expreſſions to blind the Rhimes) runs thus:

Iliad, B. 20. V. 262. 270.
His ſpacious Paſtures bred three Thouſand Mare [...], and three Thouſand Foals [...]ed [18] beſide their Mothers: Boreas enamour'd of the ſprightly train, conceal'd his Godhead in the Locks of Hair that flow'd over his Shoulders; he neigh'd to his Loves with diſſembled Voice, and cours'd the dapple Beauties o'er the Meadow: Twelve others of unrival'd ſort ſprung hence, ſwift as their Mother Mares and Father Wind.

This, if over-wrought, is the more blameable, becauſe the matter is carried very far even in the Original, and ſo is the leſs capable of being ſtretch'd any farther. Mr. Pope, in his note upon the Place obſerves, That Homer has the happineſs of making the leaſt Circumſtance conſiderable; and that the plaineſt matter ſhines in his dreſs of Poetry. It is true, it ſhines ſufficiently in that. Some brightning is neceſſary in Poetry: but an exceſs of it, Philypſus, may dazle, or may blind our Eyes; it can never aſſiſt, or delight them.

By comparing theſe Paſſages, You will ſee that which I intend; the difference of Manner in the Ancient and Modern Poetry: In the latter we find Expreſſions added, which ſeem to be added for beauties, and which in reality perhaps only turn the Plainneſs and Strength of the Original, into the Fine and the Artificial.

[19] Upon [...] Philypſus's acknowledging that he thought the Point too much labour'd, and the Tranſlation unequal; Yes, ſays Antiphaus, the Tranſlator himſelf ſeems to be ſenſible of it in the preſent Caſe; for ſoon after, when the former Paſſage is repeated in the a Original, he gives an entirely new b Turn to it; And I believe, upon hearing the Lines, you will be of opinion that (excepting a word or two) it is render'd with a better grace and with more Juſtice, than we find inthe former.

She ſpake, then touch'd him with her powerful Wand:
The Skin ſhrunk up, and wither'd at her Hand:
A ſwift Old-Age o'er all his Members ſpread,
A ſudden Froſt was ſprinkled on his Head.
Nor longer in the heavy Eye-ball ſhin'd
The glance Divine, forth beaming from the Mind;
His Robe with Spots indelible beſmear,
In Rags diſhoneſt flutters with the Air.

Mr. Pope without queſtion is happy in a great ſhare of Judgment, as well as Vivacity and Spirit in Writing: but it is next to impoſſible, in ſo long a Tranſlation, eſpecially as it is in Rhime, not to give ſometimes into Sound and Ornament; when to crown all, the Vogue of the World goes ſo ſtrong for both. Do not ask, whether I ſhould deſire to ſee [20] both of them baniſht out of Poetry; far from it: Expreſſive Sounds are of uſe in the moſt natural, and Variety in the management of them, is neceſſary to keep up Attention in the Reader: That, and Ornament, is what ſets Poetry above Proſe. All I wou'd ſay is this, that Sound is not ſufficient where we might expect Senſe; and that in humble Paſſages, in natural Deſcriptions, or in moving moſt of the Paſſions, additional ornaments are ſo many blemiſhes. Dreſſing up the expreſſiveneſs of Homer, in ſuch fineries, is much the ſame as if one ſhou'd throw a very gay modern dreſs over the Hercules of Farneſe, or any of the moſt Nervous Statues of the Ancients.

But You will allow Ornament, where the ſubject will bear it, and where the Original leads the Way?—In a tranſlation (anſwer'd Antiphaus) it is proper perhaps, only in the latter Caſe; but allowing it in both, it ſhou'd never be over-wrought in either. Too much Finery is always Affectation: and I wiſh our Writers at preſent were not ſo generally given to elevate and ſurprize, and all that, as Mr. Bayes calls it.

The running into this exceſs ſo much, is what has unſinew'd our Poetry. 'Tis with Poetry, as it is in Buildings; the [21] being vaſtly Studious of Ornament does not only take away from the Strength of the Work, but is a ſure token of a vitiated taſte in the Deſigner.

You are always blaming the Modern Refinements, ſays Philypſus; but will you not allow that this taſte of the Age is a ſufficient juſtification at leaſt of Mr. Pope, in thoſe caſes where he complies with it?—We muſt write ſo as to pleaſe the World, and ſpeak ſo as to be moſt eaſily underſtood: Cuſtom will often wear away the propriety of things of this Nature; and as for the propriety of language, that depends upon it entirely. I allow, to u [...]e your own thought, that a profuſion of Lace and Embroidery wou'd be a diſguiſe upon an Old Hero; but they are ſo far from being improper, that they are becoming on the Heroes of our Age.—

They may become the Heroes of our Age (replied Antiphaus ſmiling) perhaps on a far different account: there is another Character now wove into and blended with that of a Soldier, to which theſe things are very agreeable: How many are there of theſe Heroes, as you call them, whoſe Courage reaches no farther than their Sword-knot, and whoſe Conduct is taken up wholly in their Dreſs? But conſider a Man barely as a Soldier; [22] think of him in the midſt of ſome warm Action, and theſe little Ideas of him will diſappear: Then it is that poſture, that preſſing on the foe, that graſping of his Sword, that fierceneſs in his Eyes, that ſerenity and that eagerneſs on his countenance, which ſtrike us wholly, and take up all our attention. Yes, Philypſus, if you view a real modern Hero in a true light, thoſe fineries do not ſet well upon him: and I think, I never ſaw any thing more truly ridiculous, than the Piece we were laughing at the other Day, in your Picture-Gallery.—Good Heaven! The Duke of Marlbrough in the heat of an Engagement, with a full-bottom'd Wigg, very carefully ſpread over his Shoulders!

But to return to the preſent taſte in Poetry.—If this Corruption of the Age cou'd excuſe a Writer for what he compoſes now, muſt it be carried down as far as Homer's Days? muſt his Heroes love, and talk, and fight a-la-mode? muſt his ſtrong, ſententious lines, be ſet to the new polite airs of Handel and Bononcini? Yet, were what you wou'd alledge of any force, it wou'd carry the matter thus far; and the whole Iliad and Od [...]ſſ [...]y ought to be enervated down to the preſent taſte. No, whatever may be allow'd to any of the proper genuine productions of this [23] Age, it ought not to make an inrode upon all others: let Homer's energy and pathos be violated as little as is poſſible; Nature ought to rule in his Works, and thoſe of the Antients: as ornament, and ſurprize, and elevation, have in their turn the Empire of the Modern World.

You ſee I beg into ſhew the old heat, that this ſubject (I think) always betrays me into.—I beg pardon, Philypſus; and will attend more to what I am about for the future.—I ſhou'd have given you ſome inſtances of this Elevation from the tranſlation before us. A-propos, What a glaring deſcription of a Sword have we in the Eighth Odyſſey?

—Whoſe blade of Braſs diſplays
A r [...]ddy gleam; whoſe hilt a Silver blaze;
a Whoſe ivory ſheath inwrought with curious pride [...]
Adds graceful terror to the wearer's ſide.

Homer ſays, that Hermione was as beautiful as Venus: this is low and humble in compariſon of Mr. Pope's Hermione,

b On whom a radiant Pomp of Graces wair,
Reſembling Venus in attractive ſtate.

Where a prodigy is ſent to the Ithacenſians in Council, Homer ſays that they [24] were ſtruck at the ſight of it, and revolv'd in their Minds what it might preſage to them [...] this Mr. Pope renders after the following manner,

a The wondring rivals gaze with cares oppreſ [...]
And chilling horrors freeze in every Breaſt.

How mean is it, and how much lik [...] proſe, to tell us, that Penelope heard t [...] mirth of the Suitors? to elevate this ſufficiently, You muſt ſay

b The ſhrilling Airs the valuted Roof rebounds,
R [...]flecting to the Queen the Silver Sounds.

This falſe way of animating Poetry, a [...] no doubt many will be pleas'd to call i [...] grows particularly prejudicial and abſur [...] in any caſe, where the Paſſions are to b [...] raiſ'd in the Reader, or deſcrib'd in th [...] Perſons of the Poem. Where we wou' [...] move Pity, in particular, nothing is ( [...] m [...]e odious than a ſhew of Eloquence. Nature has provided a Sympathy in o [...] Souls; She has put a biaſs into our Temper, that inclines us forcibly to Compaſſion; 26 [25] and we ſhou'd a leave her to her own work in ſuch points, without any of the impertinent aſſiſtances of Art.

The lines You have juſt repeated, interrupted Philypſus, are ſuch as I cannot admire: but I think you carry the point too far againſt Art in general. Is there not the greateſt Art required in moving the paſſions? why then have Cicero, and all the Criticks of old, given us ſo numerous rules in this Caſe? Yes, reply'd Antiphaus, great Art, or rather a great Genius, is very neceſſary toward any excellence this way. But what I have ſaid was intended not ſo much againſt the Uſe of Art, as the Appearances of it. 'Tis the greateſt of Arts, to conceal the Art you uſe; and to have it very evident, is the greateſt of Blemiſhes. The Criticks, and Cicero in particular, ſpeak with the greateſt plainneſs againſt any thing of that kind. Where the paſſions are to be touch'd, apparent art is apparent fraud; ſo that here particular care ſhould be taken, that nothing be over-wrought.

'Tis on this account, that when You compare the following lines to the Original, [26] You will not, I dare ſay, be over [...]ond of them:

The Soul of Friendſhip to my hope is loſt,
a Fated to wander from his natal coaſt.
He ſaid: chill horrors ſhook my ſhivering Soul,
b Rack'd with Convulſive pangs in d [...]ſt [...] roll.

And that entire paſſage of Penelope.

Rolling Convulſive on the Floor, is ſeen
The piteous object of a proſtrate Queen.
Words to her dumb Complaint a pauſe ſupplies,
And breath, to waſte in unavailing Cries:
Around their Sovereign wept the menial Fair,
c To whom ſhe thus addr [...]ſs'd her deep deſpai [...] &c.

I wiſh this falſe elevation and profuſion of Ornament does not carry Mr. Pope, in ſome few Caſes, into down right Fuſtian. d A Man's being loſt in Laſſitude, and a Soul ſcarce waking, in the Arms of Death, look'd very much that way. Do You remember where he talks of e Princes on Princes roll'd, and f Gods being heap'd on Gods? Or how in another place we are told, that

g—Th [...] Pharian Iſle
Fronts the deep Roar of d [...]ſ [...]mboguing N [...]le?

You know the Character of ſome o [...] Sir John Falſtaff's Attendants, in the Merr [...] [27] Wives of Windſor; a ſort of Men, who are induſtrious in talking hard Words; and whoſe Humour, is to be unintelligible. One wou'd almoſt Imagine, the humble Account of ſhutting a Door, in the end of the Firſt Odyſſey, to be copied from thoſe illuſtrious Originals.

—The Door reclos'd;
The Bolt, ob [...]dient to the ſi [...]ken Cord,
a To the ſtrong Staple's inmoſt depth reſtor'd,
S [...]c [...]r [...]d the Valves.—

I own (ſays Philypſus) I cannot but give up thoſe lines to you, and ſeveral of the other You mention'd before. The firſt lines, when You repeated them, I took tobe the very worſt, You could pick out of the Od [...]ſſey: But I know not how i [...] comes about, You riſe gradually in your demands upon me; and are got inſenſibly from lines in that piece, which were forc'd and too much beautified, to things unnatural, and ſhocking. When I thought of making a Convert of You to an entire admiration of Mr. Pope, I fancy, I was much miſtaken; at this rate, you will turn the Tables upon me: and to tell You the truth, I cannot but confeſs, that [28] the Poet has, in ſome Caſes, fallen into each of the faults You mention.

In ſome Caſes doubtleſs (reply'd Antiphaus) that Gentleman is not to be commended: I take his Tranſlation to be as good, as any Tranſlation of Homer, into Engliſh, and in Rhime, cou'd be expected to be; In all probability, we might ſafely add, that no other Writers of the Age cou'd, in the whole, have perform'd ſuch a task ſo well. But a perfect Piece of this kind cannot be expected: If Homer himſelf is allow'd to Sleep a little, his Tranſlator certainly may Nod ſometimes.—

One thing I obſerv'd (interrupted Philypſus) in the lines you have repeated that the faultineſs of ſeveral of them was owing to an Exceſs in one of the greateſt Beauties of Poetry, I mean, the Metaphors too frequent in them. I obſerv' [...] the ſame (ſays Antiphaus) as I was collec [...] ing theſe little Remarks: it occaſion' [...] my uſing a particular Paper for that ſingle point: If it did not grow ſo late, [...] wou'd ſhew it to You; but—No, le [...] us have it now, cry'd Philypſus: I neve [...] knew any thing of yours too long, and [...] it be that Paper in your Hand, I ſhou [...] think it much too ſhort; were it not fo [...] my concern for the Poet, and the deſi [...] [29] I have of finding as few Faults in his Writings as poſſible.

Metaphor, ſays Philypſus, is certainly the moſt univerſal enlivener of Poetry. At the ſame time that it adds to the dignity of Verſe, it gives it an agreeable variety; together with a power of Painting out all its Images, in the boldeſt and ſtrongeſt manner in the World. 'Tis this which animates thoſe objects, which muſt otherwiſe be ſtill and unaffecting: it [...]lings every thing into Motion, Life, and Action: By this the Arrow is eager and on the Wing, by this the Sword thirſts for Blood, and the Spear rages in the Hands of the Warriour. Metaphor raiſes each ſubject out of the heavy narrative way: it creates new Beings; it repreſents the paſſions of Men, and even meer Names, as animated and imbodied; and ſhews them in the poſture and attitudes of Agents. Thus when the Battles are going to join, You ſee Rage ſtalk amidſt the Combatants; pointing with one Hand to the Enemy, and in the other, ſhaking the Torch of War. By this, the Valleys and Mountains rejoice, when Peace once more ſpreads her downy Wings, and Plenty deſcends from Heaven upon the happy climate. 'Tis Metaphor which makes the Woods and Caves anſwer to the [30] voice of the Poet, and the murmuring Stream compaſſionate his complaints: 'Tis this which makes the Nile know Caeſar; and the Sea, its preſent Monarch.

If Mr. Pope manages this powerful Figure frequently to the beſt advantage, ſometimes he happens not to be ſo happy in the uſe of it. The force of Metap [...]or is to make things ſtrong, clear, and ſenſible: any confuſion deſtroys the very end of it; and yet a little inaccuracy may occaſion groſs errors this way. Sometimes what is juſt with the Figurative [...] may diſagree with the Proper: ſometimes again, an idea which might ſtand with the proper expreſſion, will be inconſiſtent with the figurative. A miſapplication either way is very obvious, and yet it gives a jar to the Ideas, and makes the ſenſe of a line to be perplexed and in confuſion.

It ſounds but oddly to talk of a Perſon, and of his Picture, without any manner of diſtinction: To ſay, that the piece, drawn by Sir Godfrey Kneller for Mr. Pope [...] is an excellent Poet and Writes with th [...] greateſt Command imaginable; Or, that Mr. Pope is a very good piece, and his fac [...] very well colour'd, tho' he is but juſt recover' [...] from a fit of Sickneſs; either of them w [...]u'd carry a mixt incoherent ſenſe with [31] them: This I take to be partly the Caſe in the following Lines,

aNow from my fond embrace by Tempeſts torn,
Our other Column of the State is born;
Nor took a kind adieu.
b They ſweep Neptunes ſmooth Face.
c Declining, with his ſ [...]ping Wh [...]els
Down ſunk the Sun.

To ſay the Go [...] of Light was driving his Car, down the Steep of Heaven (as Mr. Pope ſomewhere expreſſes it) is metaphorical; To ſay the Sun is ſetting, is proper: but ſhou'd one ſay, The Sun is ſetting with ſ [...]oping Wheels, This would be neither Metaphorical, nor Proper; nor cou'd it raiſe any thing in the Mind, but a confuſion of Ideas.

Again:

d As ſome lone Mountain's monſtrous grow [...]h he ſtood [...]
Crown'd with rough thickets and a noddingwoo [...]

Again:

eHear me, Oh Neptune! thou whoſe Arms are h [...]rl'd
From Shore to Shore, and gird the ſol [...]d World.

I think, Neptune has the luck of it; for 'tis the ſame Deity, that in another [32] place makes juſt ſuch a Figure, as I have ſeen him in ſome Mortlock-Hangings:

a The raging Monarch ſhook his [...]zure Head,
And thus in ſecret to his Soul he ſaid [...] &c.
b This ſaid, his Sea-green Steeds divide the Foam.

Such confuſions of the Metaphor and the Proper have a great reſemblance to that abſurdity (of mixing Fable and Reality together) which appears ſo groſly in Mr. Dryden's Hind and Panther; and which was the very thing, that provoked Lord Halifax to ridicule that Piece, with ſuch infinite humour and good ſenſe. The Noble Author's Words on that ſubject, may give a Side-light to what I mean in the preſent Caſe. Speaking of the Ancient Fabuliſts, ‘They wrote (ſays he c in Signs, and ſpoke in Parables: all their Fables carry a double meaning: The Story is one and entire; The Characters the ſame throughout; not broken, or chang'd, and always conformable to the nature of the Creatures they introduce. They never tell you that the Dog, which ſnapt at a ſhadow, loſt his Troop of Horſe; that wou'd be unintelligible.—This is his (Dryden' [...]) [33] new way of telling a Story, and confounding the Moral and the Fable together.’ After inſtancing from the Hind and Panther, he goes on thus. ‘What relation has the Hind to our Saviour? or what notion have we of a Panther's Bible? if you ſay, he means the Church, how does the Church feed on Lawns, or range in the Foreſt? Let it be always a Church, or always the Cloven-footed Beaſt, for we cannot bear his ſhifting the Scene every Line.’

I had almoſt forgot to tell You, that upon conſulting the Original there was no Metaphor at all to be found, for either of the Lines, I laſt repeated from the Odyſſey. We have now Metaphors perpetually; the Tranſlator is vaſtly fond of them. I need not ſay that an Exceſs this way is very blameable; You know the Criticks ſpeak againſt it in a high ſtrain, and one of them goes ſo far as to ſay, that this a Figure, when frequent, obſcure [...] the Piece, and fatigues the Reader; when continual, 'tis no longer a Poem, 'tis all Allegory and Enigma.

As a [...]alſe Mixture of the proper and the figurative confuſes the ſenſe; The [34] joining Metaphors together, which do no [...] agree, makes it ſtill more dark and perplexed. Theſe are like (what they call [...] Medley-Pieces; a huddled kind of Pictures [...] which ſhew a Variety of Objects, flun [...] together without any order or deſign [...] As that in the beginning of Horace's A [...] of Poetry, they join the Limbs of on [...] Creature to the Body of another; an [...] confuſe all the properties and circumſtances of an Action.

If the Poet be not very careful he ma [...] by theſe means tye not only things improper, but even contrarieties, together [...] Do not the following Lines border o [...] this? to me the Metaphors in them ſee [...] to be improperly united.

From Elateus's ſtrong Arm the Diſcus flies,
And Sings with unmatch'd Force along the Skies:
And Laodame whirls High, with dreadful ſway,
aThe Gloves of Death.—

At the ſame Time, nothing can b [...] more Proper and Narrative than the Original in that place. Again:

b From his Eyes pour'd down the tender Dew.
[35]
a But Anticlus unable to controul,
Spoke loud the languiſh of his yearning Soul.

In theſe the Action is deſcrib'd in words, that import a violence; while the Act to be expreſs'd, is plainly ſomething ſtill and gentle.

Nothing is more known in relation to the Metaphor, than that rule of Cicero's; b That it ſhou'd be ſo modeſt, as to ſeem to have been handed into the place of the proper Word, not to have forced its Way thither: it ſhou'd fall into it in a free, voluntary manner. Otherwiſe it will make the ſenſe dark and intricate; and that abſolutely deſtroys all the uſe of it: for as Metaphor ſhou'd be the b greateſt Light and Ornament of Language, Obſcurity is the moſt abſurd thing, and the moſt to be avoided in Metaphor.

If ſo, I wou'd ask whether it be very natural to talk of c the Womb of a Veſſel? What congruity is there? What Idea have You of the Forehead of Night, of a Star, or of the Heavens? yet in the Tranſlation [36] we meet with Metaphors of thi [...] kind: and tho' it may be tolerable to talk of the a Front of Heaven; the othe [...] two, b The blazing Forehead of a Sta [...], and c the Matron Brow of Night, ar [...] ſcarce to be born with. For my part, I ſhou'd not have expected theſe Expreſſions from Mr. Pope: They rather pu [...] me in mind of another Gentleman, wh [...] in a Poem of his ſpeaking of the Churc [...] of England, ſays that

d Divinely bright her Frontlet-Stars appear'd,
While up towards Heaven her raviſh'd Eyes ſh [...] rear' [...]

I deſire you would give me your Sentiments on another paſſage: what do yo [...] think of the Images in the followin [...] Line?

They cuff, they tear, their Che [...]ks, and Necks [...]

Do You remember whom 'tis ſpoke of? Really, ſays Philypſus, I cannot we [...] determine, whether it is ſpoken of Me [...] or of a couple of Beaſts fighting.—( [...] neither, anſwer'd Antiphaus: 'tis uſed [...] Eagles in the e Odyſſey; and in the ( [...] Iliad, of a couple of Vultures.

[37] There is an Obſervation ariſing from this, which ought to be conſider'd, in transferring Metaphors: it may be ſaid, that the word Cheeks in this Verſe, is juſtified by the Original. Cuſtom, Philypſus, is the great Rule of Words: and what is eaſy in one Language, will not bear in another; becauſe uſage may have ſoften'd in one, what in the other is yet harſh and unwarrantable. This is evident from the very Word in debate. Thus we uſe [...]Cheeks in Engliſh of ſome Creatures beſide Men; the Term is ſo far familiarized, and ſounds very well: Yet to talk of the Cheeks of a Pheaſant, or the Cheeks of a Vulture, will by no means ſound the ſofter for it's prevailing in thoſe other particulars.

However, this is agreed on all hands; that a Metaphor is not to be uſed, unleſs it gives a greater light, and makes the thing more ſenſible to us. Are the Borrow'd terms, in this Caſe, more expreſſive than the Native? Nay, do they give you as clear Ideas, as the Native would? Do they give you as clear, where the Poet talks of a aſſwaging Thirſt with a generous [...]intage, or of Polypheme's doing the ſame thing with a b Milky deluge? What do [38] you think of an a Ozier-fringed Bank, of a Voice (juſt heard) b wounding the Ear, or of the Seas being call'd the c howling deſart of the Main? Mr. Pope d queſtio [...]s whether the nodding of a Mountain be a natural Image; ſhou'd not You be apt to think too, that a Mountain e ſhaking the Foreſts on his ſides, is fitter for an Earthquake, than a Metaphor? What ſort of Idea have You of a f well-fought Wall, or a g thrice-ear'd Field? in a Word, have You any Idea at all, when he tells us of Jove's h rearing a Tempeſt, or of the i whiſtling Winds waking the Sky?

Philypſus conſulted his own Mind all along as theſe points were offer'd; and endeavour'd very fairly to diſcover, whether the Images were as clear and evident, as they ought to be: He knew that the great uſe and k beauty of Metaphor, was to give Light and Perſpicuity to a deſcription; to cloath Words (as he us'd to ſay) with Subſtance; and to make Language viſible: But as, upon this View, he cou'd not anſwer fully what had been [39] produc'd, he was willing to evade it as much as he cou'd. Theſe Inſtances, ſays he (turning to Antiphaus) tho' few for ſo large a Piece, when laid together, are apt to incline ones judgment to the prejudice of the Tranſlator: it will not be [...]air to look only on the worſt ſide of him; We owe it to Juſtice, and to the Excellencies of that great Man, to give one Evening to his Beauties, as well as this to his Defects.—Be ſo good then (interrupted Antiphaus) as to undertake that part for the next: You know me ſo well I need not aſſure you, that I ſhall be as much pleas'd with hearing the Beauties, as I am uneaſy in repeating the Faults of this Writer.

After ſome other diſcourſe, Antiphaus, going for his own apartment, and reflecting upon what had paſs'd between him and his friend, took occaſion to obſerve; ‘How impoſſible almoſt it is for thegreateſt Genius not to fail ſometimes, in an undertaking of this Nature: and how unavoidable it will be [...]or the Reader, (in a Poem generally well wrote) not to be led away from obſerving thoſe faults, by the vaſt Power of Ornament, the eaſy Fluency of the Verſe, and his Engagements to the Beauties of a favourite Piece.’ [40] The beſt qualified (added he) will thus err, when ever they write for Fame; and the moſt judicious will be thus deceiv'd, when they read for Pleaſure.

An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the SECOND.

[41]

BETWEEN company and buſineſs, it was ſome time before Philypſus and Antiphaus cou'd get an Evening to themſelves; the latter had waited for it with ſome impatience; and did not fail, pretty early in it, to remind Philypſus of his promiſe. I long, ſays he, to ſee your Remarks: ſuch a method of viewing a Poem, is ſomething like the way of our favourite Vertot in writing Hiſtory: we have the material Parts of it, without paſſing thro' the dead Lines, which go toward the Narrative; or the leſs ſignificant Paſſages, which are to fill up the Chain of Events. You muſt not expect [42] any great Matters, anſwer'd Philypſus: Tho' I have had longer time than we talk'd of at firſt, it has been ſufficient only for collecting ſome of the ſcatter'd Beauties of this excellent Tranſlation.

Some of the Lines which you repeated the former Evening, ſhew'd that the Greatneſs of his Genius, had led Mr. Pope ſometimes into an Exceſs: if things can be too much beautified, that fault does certainly belong to him. In a few lines, I confeſs, he diſcovers a greater love of Ornament, than is becoming. This is the fountain of all the ſeveral Peccadillo's which you obſerv'd from his writings; whatever there is to be found in them either too glaring, or forc'd, or figurative, or too much elevated, may fairly be accounted for this way. You, Sir, produc'd ſome Paſſages, as I remember, under each of theſe Characters: But how pardonable is it, for ſo exalted a Genius, to run ſometimes into an exceſs of Ornament? And how admirable for ſuch, to excell often in the juſt, handſome, natural Manner? As Mr. Pope, in the former, may poſſibly want ſome favourable Allowances; He muſt certainly command the higheſt Eſteem in the latter.

Is not almoſt the entire a Epiſode of [43] Menelaus and Proteus particularly juſt, and beautiful? What can have a greater ſhare of Nature, without any exceſſes, than the Adventure with a Nauſicaa? How juſtly are the Paſſions preſerv'd in b The Deſcent into Hell; and before, in all the Speeches c of Circe and Calypſo?

Tho' theſe Paſſages are generally of too great a length to bear repeating in a ſingle Evening, you will indulge me with the reading ſome of the moſt finiſh'd Parts of them.

The whole Epiſode is particularly well wrote; but the things chiefly to be admir'd in it are, the Metamorphoſis of Proteus;—His Speech on the unhappy Curioſity of Men;—the account immediately after, of the Deaths of Ajax and Agamemnon; and, above all that enliven'd Concluſion, in Relation to Elyſium, and, the future Happineſs of Menelaus. You remember the various Transformations of Proteus; and, I believe, will allow them to be exceedingly well expreſs'd:

A Lion now, he curls a ſurgy mane;
Sudden, our bands a ſpotted Pard reſtrain;
Then arm'd with tusks, and lightning in his eyes,
A Boar's obſcener ſhape the God belies:
On ſpi [...]y volumes there a Dragon rides;
Here, from our ſtrict embrace a Stream he glides:
[44] And laſt, ſublime his ſtately growth he rears
a A Tree, and well-diſſembled foliage wears.

The Lines are extremely good, ſays Antyphaus; but I had a Thought came into my Head, that poſſeſs'd me, all the time, you were reading them: I cou'd not forbear thinking, what an happy Contrivance it wou'd be in the Managers of the Old Houſe, to bring this Deity upon the Stage, in the ſame manner, that he appears in theſe Verſes. Such a Performance wou'd ſet their Character in the moſt eminent Light: They wou'd infallibly get the ſtart of their ingenious Rivals; and poor Doctor Fauſtus, and his Dragon, wou'd no longer be the higheſt Entertainment of the Beaux Eſprits of this Age.

I am got into another Part of the Poem (ſays Philypſus) which might ſerve, in ſome meaſure, to arm their Rivals of Lincolns-Inn-Fields, againſt ſo formidable an Undertaking. There are Paſſages in the Deſcent into Hell, capable of furniſhing out a great deal of the Wonderful, and Surprizing, in this way. But to return: can any thing be more Pathetick, than this whole Book? eſpecially, the latter [45] part, when the Heroes come to make their Appearance. Tho' I am always loſt in the Variety of Beauties, which we find in it; I muſt ſingle out the Speech of Agamemnon, and read (at leaſt) the Concluſion of it to you:

When War has thunder'd with its loud eſt Storms,
Death thou haſt ſeen in all her ghaſtly forms;
In duel met her, on the liſted Ground,
When hand to hand they wound return for wound:
But never have thy Eyes aſtoniſh'd view'd
So vile a deed, ſo dire a Scene of Blood.
Ev'n in the flow of joy, when now the bowl
Glows in our Veins, and opens ev'ry Soul,
We groan, we faint; with Blood the dome is dy'd,
And o'er the pavement floats the dreadful tyde—
Her breaſt all gore, with lamentable cries,
The bleeding innocent Caſſandra dies!
Then, tho' pale death froze cold in ev'ry vein,
a My Sword I ſtrive to wield,—but ſtrive invain.

Surely nothing in Nature can be conceived of greater Strength and Emotion, than this Circumſtance. We ſee the Hero weltring on the Floor, all cover'd with Blood, and in the laſt agonies of Death. It was then, that he heard the Cries and Shrieks of the Daughter of Priam, purſued by the Traytors, and ſtab'd to the Heart by the barbarous [46] Clytemneſtra: expiring as he was, he endeavours to raiſe up his Arm, and at laſt gets his Hand upon the hilt of his Sword; which he had ſtrength only to graſp, with a look full of Rage, Compaſſion, and Revenge. Methinks, Antiphaus, I ſee him now expired, and dropt upon the Floor: but tho' expired, there is ſtill that Rage and Paſſion in his Countenance; he ſtill graſps his Sword, and ſeems to threaten the Traytors and the Adultereſs with his looks.

I know nothing finer (ſays Antiphaus) than theſe laſt Efforts of dying Heroes. They affect the Soul wonderfully: And the weakneſs of their Body, which will not permit their acting at ſuch times, in my Opinion ſets off their Courage, and their Deſire of Action, in the ſtrongeſt Light imaginable. There is nothing unnatural in this; tho' indeed it follows Nature to its laſt Pitch: The beſt Hiſtorians, as well as the firſt Poets, make uſe of ſuch Circumſtances very finely; and I remember Inſtances of it a in Livy and b Salluſt, that carry this [47] Matter as far as a Virgil or Homer. But ſome Moderns, as uſual, ſtretch it ſo immoderately, that they go beyond nature; and the Moment it is ſo, it muſt be ridiculous. How often have we laugh'd at thoſe Rants of Taſſo, and Arioſto? It wou'd be very well if their Heroes only threaten'd in Death, but they muſt die b away, without being at all the Weaker: ſome of them (in the heat of Battle, you may be ſure) forget that they are c kill'd, and ſo keep on fighting: like Strada's Soldiers, who after they are cut in Two, d ſurvive themſelves; and fight on with that half of their Bodies, that is left them; to revenge the other, which was knock'd on the Head, an hour or two before.

Such things as thoſe (anſwer'd Philypſus) are not Blemiſhes in a piece; they are downright falſities; meer outrages againſt Truth, as well as common ſenſe. Nothing can be invented more ridiculous: they are like the incomprehenſible Lies of Sir John Falſtaff; and put one in mind of his fighting with Blount, an hour by Shrewsbury [48] Clock, after that Gentleman had been kill'd before very heartily by Princ [...] Henry.

On the contrary; Homer is as great a friend to Truth and Nature, as he is to Poetry: He knows how to raiſe, every thing, as far as it will bear; he ha [...] always a Command of whatever is prope [...] to be ſaid; and, which is yet greater [...] always underſtands when he has ſai [...] enough.

But we forget our ſelves, Antiphau [...] this Digreſſion has carried us ſo far, th [...] if we do not ſoon go on with this Spee [...] of Agamemnon's which occaſion'd it, w [...] ſhall not know where it left off: Aft [...] that pathetick account of his Death an [...] the barbarity of his Queen, he proceed [...]

Nor did my traitreſs Wife theſe Eye-lids ck [...]
Or decently in Death my Limbs compoſe.
O Woman, Woman! when to ill thy Mind
Is bent, all Hell contains no fouler Fiend.
And ſuch was mine! who baſely plung'd her ſw [...]
Thro' the fond Boſom, where ſhe reign'd ado [...]
Alas! I hop'd, the toils of War o'ercome,
To meet ſoft quiet and repoſe at home;
D [...]luſive hope!—O Wife, thy deeds diſgra [...]
The pe [...]jur [...]d Sex, and blacken all the race;
And ſhou'd poſterity one virtuous find,
a Name Clytemneſtra, they will curſe the ki [...]

[49] The turn of Expreſſion in this, is much more lively and paſſionate, than the language of Homer himſelf. As you cannot value any delays, where we meet with ſuch Improvements; I am ſure you will give me leave to read you the Speech of Ulyſſes juſt after: That I mean, in which he gives Achilles an account of his Son Pyrrhus's behaviour in the War.

—Hear with pleas'd Attention the renown,
The wars and wiſdom of thy gallant Son:
With me from Scyros to the Field of Fame,
R [...]diant in Arms the blooming Heroe came.
When Gr [...]ce aſſembled all her Hundred States,
To ripen Counſels, and decide Debates,
Heavens! how he charm'd us with a flow of ſenſe,
And won the heart with manly Eloquence!
He firſt was ſeen of all the Peers to riſe,
a The third in wiſdom, where they all wer [...] wiſe.—

Give me leave (ſays Antiphaus, interrupting him)—that very Verſe I have formerly taken notice of; the Tranſlator ſeems to me to have uſed an unneceſſary Caution in it: He is tender of making Ulyſſes commend himſelf by Name, where Homer does it with the greateſt bluntneſs.—

I know it, ſays Philypſus; but that I ſhould have put to the account of his [50] Improvements on this Speech. Cou'd any thing have been more groſs, than to have imitated that line in its own coarſe, ruſtick Dialect? Is it not better on all Hands for ſuch a Sentiment to be imply'd than to be expreſs'd?

Cuſtom and Prejudice (anſwered Antiphaus) have now render'd it unpolite, and even ſhocking, for a Man almoſt in any Caſe to commend himſelf: But it was not thus anciently. It is certain, that it was not thus in the times of thoſe Heroes, whom Homer deſcribes; and Home [...] therefore acts with Propriety, in making Ulyſſes ſay, that Neſtor and Himſelf wer [...] the wiſeſt of all the Grecians. Now, is the Tranſlator in this Caſe to follow his Author, or not? Is he to preſerve the Manners of the Ancients in the characters or his Heroes? or is he to modernize them and to make Ulyſſes and Achilles appear the moſt accompliſh'd, fineſt Gentleme [...] in the World?

That will be carrying the Matter to [...] far, replied Philypſus; I ſpeak it only as to this particular; and I own I am yet to be convinc'd, that this Humour o [...] commending themſelves, was really ſ [...] prevalent among the Ancients. Perhap [...] this is one of the Places where Home [...] nods: it might be a ſlip of haſte or inattention.—

[51] No, interrupted Antiphaus, nothing can be more certain, than the freedom and honeſty of Speech us'd among the Ancients, in this particular; not only before Homer, but very long after his time.—If Homer's Ulyſſes here calls himſelf the wiſeſt of the Grecians, his Achilles does not ſtick at calling himſelf the Beſt and moſt Valiant of them; and that too, in a Council of all the Princes: Virgil has given us his Approbation of both the one and the other, in making Aeneas talk frequently of his own piety and valour. I cou'd tire you with Quotations of this kind: Socrates, in Plato, is always brought in to his advantage; and yet there he does juſt the ſame thing with Ulyſſes in the preſent caſe: he himſelf quotes the Oracle, which pronounc'd him to be the Wiſeſt of Men. Xenophon repreſents Cyrus, upon his Death-bed, as taking notice of the greateſt Beauty of his own Character, his Humanity; in a Piece which, every one knows, was deſigned for the Character of a perfect Prince. In a word, whole Treatiſes [...]ave been wrote of this very thing, and [...]n this very ſtrain. Ca [...]ſar, and the great [...]ewiſh writer of his own Life, frequently [...]ommend themſelves: the greateſt Cri [...]ick, as well as the greateſt Orator, among [52] the Romans, who ſo often recko [...]s Modeſty among the things which are moſt neceſſary toward rendering a Man great in his Profeſſion; how open and frequent is he in praiſing himſelf, and in ſetting his own Merit in a true Light? But what puts this beyond diſpute (and ſhews at the ſame time, that a juſt Commendation of one ſelf, may by very conſiſtent with the greateſt Modeſty) is to be found in the ſacred Writings, in which Moſes ſays of himſelf, that he was the Meekeſt Man upon Earth.

Thus free were the Ancients in commending themſelves; and not to conſider here, whether we, or they were in the right; (whether their Behaviour may not be thought to have had more of Veracity in it; and our Method to have been grounded, in a great degree, on a falſe Eſtimate of things: however that be) I think enough has been ſaid, to ſhew that Homer was not drowſy, when he wrote this line; and that Ulyſſes might uſe it, without any thing of a vitious Arrogance.

To confeſs the Truth (ſays Philypſus) I was really ignorant in this point of the Uſage of the Ancients, and had modelled their Manners too much by our own. I now ſee my error; and think the Tranſlator [53] might have ſpared the excuſe, which he a makes for this Indecency in Ulyſſes behaviour: 'tis plain, it wou'd not have been ſo improper, before a People, leſs noted for Vain-glory, than the Phaeacians. I thank you, Antiphaus, for this new Light; and ſhall go on with the Heroe's Character of Pyrrhus, without thinking him ſo aſſuming, as he formerly appear'd to have been. After placing the Son of Achil [...]es next to Neſtor and Himſelf in Wiſdom, he proceeds to give an account of his Courage; and in that, ſets him above all the Grecians, without Exception.

But when to try the fortune of the day
Hoſt mov'd tow'rd hoſt in terrible array,
Before the van, impatient for the [...]ight,
With martial port he ſtrode, and ſtern delight.—
When Ilion in the horſe receiv'd her doom,
And unſeen armies ambuſh'd in its womb;
Gr [...]ce gave her latent warriors to my care,
'Twas mine on Troy to pour the impriſon'd war:
Then, when the boldeſt boſom beat with fear,
When the ſtern eyes of Heroes dropp'd a tear;
Fierce in his look his ardent valour glow'd,
Fluſh'd in his Cheek, or ſally'd in his Blood;
Indignant in the dark receſs he ſtands,
Pants for the battle, and the war demands;
His voice breath'd death; and with a martial air
b He graſp'd his Sword and ſhook his glittering Spear.

[54] How well is the earneſt Spirit of a young Heroe deſcribed throughout this whole Paſſage? How does the impetuouſneſs of his Soul appear, in theſe previous Actions of the warrior? Had one the poetical Liberty of making compariſons, I ſhou'd not ſtick at ſa [...]ing, that this has a great reſemblance to that admirable deſcription of a War-horſe, in the moſt finiſht Poem in the World.

a T [...]m, ſiqua ſonum procul arma dedere;
Stare loco neſcit, micat auribus, & tremit [...]rtus [...]
C [...]ll [...]ctumque prem [...]s volvit ſub naribus ignem.

I am apt to believe, that Mr. Pope had this behaviour of Pyrrhus in his Eye, when he gave thoſe lively Strokes in the entrance of his Ode for Muſick. We ſee the Heroes there in the ſame Poſtures when animated by the martial ſtrains o [...] Orpheus.

b Each chief his ſevenfold ſhield diſplay'd,
And half unſheath'd the ſhining blade;
And Seas, and Rocks, and Skies re [...]ound
To arms, to arms, to arms!

By the ſudden flow of their Spirits [...] and the rapidity of their Imagination [...] they prevent the War [...] They ſhew a [55] noble forgetfulneſs of the Place and Circumſtances of things about them, and think themſelves already engaging with the abſent Enemy.

There is one Speech more of thoſe I mention'd at firſt, which I cannot forbear repeating to you; tho' I am ſenſible, that I have been too long upon this Head already. It is that of Circe to Ulyſſes, in the tenth Odyſſey:

Then wav'd the wand, and then the word was given [...]
Hence to thy fellows! (dreadful ſhe began)
Go, be a Beaſt!—I heard and yet was Man.
Then ſudden whirling like a waving Flame
My beamy faulchion, I aſſault the Dame:
Struck with unuſual fear, ſhe trembling cries,
She faints, ſhe falls; ſhe lifts her weeping eyes.
What art thou? ſay! from whence, from whom you came?
O more than human! tell thy race, thy name.
Amazing ſtrength theſe poiſons to ſuſtain!
Not mortal thou, nor mortal is thy Brain.
Or art thou he? the Man to come (foretold
By Hermes powerful with the Wand of Gold)
The Man from Troy, who wander'd Ocean round,
The Man, for Wiſdom's various Arts renown'd:
a Ulyſſes?—Oh! thy threatning fury ceaſe.—

What ſtarts? what terror, and a [...]azement? What paſſionate breaks are [...]here in theſe lines? How ſolemn is the [56] beginning? how emphatical the account of the action? and how lively the ſurprize and con [...]uſion of the Inchantreſs, upon finding the inefficacy of her Charms? Nature here appears in every Word that ſhe ſays; if the Diſappointment is great and ſhocking, the lines too are all impetuous and abrupt: if the paſſions ſtrong and various, the Expreſſions in the Tranſlation are inſtant and preſſing, and the ſtile often chang'd: How great and ſwift is the Alteration, from an imperious cruel Tyrant, to a poor weak helpleſs Woman? And how is it equal'd by that judicious ſhifting of the ſcene in this piece? There the change is as ſudden and immediate; and nothing can be greater than the fall from the haughtineſs of

Go, be a Beaſt!—

to the meanneſs of the line, juſt after,

She faints, ſhe falls; ſhe lifts her weeping Eyes.

You cannot but obſerve farther, my Antiphaus, that the lines in this deſcription, are every where improv'd with thoſe Figures, which the Ancient Criticks have always look'd upon as the moſt proper to expreſs an hurry of Paſſion. The Tranſpoſition, the Omiſſion of Words, the preſſing uſe of Exclaiming and Interrogation, [57] and the general Inconnection which runs through it, are all apply'd in the moſt natural and poetical Manner. There is a Note of the Tranſlator on a Paſſage not long before this, which gives us in one view ſeveral excellent Obſervations of this kind, and which no doubt he had in his Eye here; for the rules of it are exactly follow'd in the preſent caſe. This Poet is the beſt Commentator on himſelf; give me leave therefore juſt to look back for his a Note on the Speech of Eurylocus; that you may ſee how exactly thoſe Obſervations tally with his performance here, in every particular Article.

‘We have here (ſays he) a very lively picture of a Perſon in a great fright:—the very manner of ſpeaking, repreſents the diſorder of the ſpeaker; he is in too great an Emotion to introduce his Speech by any Preface, he breaks at once into it, without preparation, as if he could not ſoon enough deliver his thoughts.’Again:

‘There is nothing, which gives more life to a Diſcourſe, than the taking away b the Connections and Conjunctions; when the diſcourſe is not [58] bound together and embaraſs'd, it walks and ſlides along of it ſelf. Periods thus cut off, and yet pronounc'd with Precipitation, are ſigns of a lively Sorrow; which at the ſame time hinders, yet forces him to ſpeak.’Again (in a like caſe)

‘He ſpeaks ſhort, and in broken and interrupted Periods, which excellently repreſent the agony of his thoughts.—Afterwards we ſee he breaks out into Interrogations, which, as a Longinus obſerves, give great motion, ſtrength, and action to Diſcourſe. If the Poet had proceeded ſimply, the Expreſſion had not been equal to the occaſion; but by theſe ſhort Queſtions, he gives ſtrength to it, and ſhews the diſorder of the ſpeaker, by the ſudden ſtarts and vehemence of the Periods.’

All theſe animated Figures, all thoſe Arts of expreſſing the Paſſions, are beautifully wo [...]e into this ſingle piece of Poetry: But there is one peculiar Excellence in it yet behind, which I admire beyond all the reſt. It is a power almoſt unknown even to Poetry before, and the Criticks have not as yet found out any Name for it. The extraordinary Beauty [59] I mean, is that Inſight which the Poet gives his Readers into Circe's Mind: We look into her Soul, and ſee the Ideas paſs there in Train. At firſt ſhe is ignorant, then dubious, and at laſt diſcovers gradually in her Thoughts the Character, and very Name of the Heroe. Circe, skill'd as ſhe was in all the arts of Magick, is limited in her Knowledge and Diſcovery of things: and in the preſent Diſcovery of the Perſon of Ulyſſes, her Mind acts with Tumult and Rapidity, but at the ſame time with a ſeries and gradual Collection of Truths, at firſt unknown. Every one may perceive the Tumult, and the ſucceſſive Enlightnings of her Mind. We are led into a full View of the ſhifting of her thoughts; and behold the various openings of them in her Soul.

What art thou? ſay! from whence, from whom you came.
Or art thou He? the Man to come foretold—
T [...]e Man, from Troy?—
The Man, for wiſdom's various arts renown'd,
Ul [...]ſſes?—

I never read any thing which ſets the actings of another's Mind ſo diſtinctly to the view. Circe's very Thoughts are made viſible to us; they are ſet full in our Eyes; and we ſee the different degrees [60] as it were of Light, breaking in upon her Soul.—'Tis a moſt charming piece of Poetry! and upon turning it every way, and conſidering all its ſeveral perfections, I believe one might venture to pronounce it, the moſt finiſht Piece, the moſt compleat Beauty in the whole Tranſlation.

Theſe are the productions of a Sublime Genius, and ſpeak an uncommon Spirit, together with a firm extenſive Judgment, and an exact Senſe of things. But you Antiphaus chiefly complain of this Writer for his Refinements and Elevation: there is too much of the Enflure (as the French call it) in his Works; and you cannot bear with ſuch a profuſion of Glitter and Embroidery in the Language. I do not deny, that the Paſſages you repeated, are generally blameable on theſe accounts; but beg leave to produce ſome inſtances, which may ſhew the Tranſlator, to be a maſter in the juſt and proper ſtile; as the former convince us of his Excellence in the poliſh'd, and enliven'd, and pathetick.

How humble are the lines in particular, a where Ulyſſes meets with Minerva in Ithaca, and how rural the ( [...]) 92 [61] a Scene between him and Eumaeus in that Iſland? So far, that for my own Part I muſt confeſs, I ſhou'd be more apt to imagine, that Mr. Pope on theſe Occaſions ſinks now and then into Lowneſſes, beneath the dignity of the Epick; than that he ſoars too high, or uſes any falſe Elevation.

As for the juſt and chaſte Manner of expreſſing things, it is very frequent in theſe Paſſages: There is a place juſt come into my Head, in which this very way of ſpeaking is deſcrib'd; the lines are cloſe and expreſſive; and, according to Mr. Pope's Method in his incomparable Eſſay, are themſelves the beſt example of the thing they treat of; they are b in the Eighth Book:

With partial hands, the Gods their gifts diſpenſe;
Some greatly think, ſome ſpeak with manly ſenſe.
Here Heaven an elegance of form denies,
But Wiſdom the defect of form ſupplies:
This Man with energy of thought controuls,
And ſteals with modeſt violence our Souls;
He ſpeaks reſ [...]rv'dly, but he ſpeaks with force,
Nor can one word be chang'd but for a worſe.

The Concluſion of Tireſias's Speech to Ul [...]ſſes (proceeded Philypſus) I dare anſwer for it, you will think excellent in this way:

[62]
—Peaceful ſhalt thou end thy bliſsful days,
And ſteal thy ſelf from life [...] by ſlow decays:
Unknown to pain, in age reſign thy breath,
When late ſtern Neptune points the ſhaft with death;
To the dark grave retiring as to Reſt,
a Thy people bleſſing, by thy people bleſt.

By this we ſee, how Mr. Pope can enliven any thing of this kind with the greateſt Juſtice and Beauty: Such (to mention but one more) is that ſingle Paſſage, as I take it, in all Homer's Works, which deſcribes the Regions of the Bleſt. The Lines are very beautiful in the Original; and the Tranſlation has expreſs'd all the beauties of it, in a lively proper fluency of Verſe:

Elyſium ſhall be thine; the bliſsful plains
Of utmoſt Earth, where Rhadamanthus reigns:
Joys ever-young, unmix'd with pain or fear,
Fill the wide circle of th' Eternal Year.
Stern Winter ſmiles on that auſpicious clime;
The Fields are florid with unfading prime:
From the bleak pole no Winds inclement blow,
Mould the round Hail, or flake the fleecy Snow:
But from the breezy deep, the bleſt inhale
The fragrant murmurs of the Weſtern gale.
This grace peculiar will the Gods afford
a To thee, the Son of Jove, and beauteous Hel [...]n's Lord.

What can be more Juſt and Beautiful? The Thought proper and adequate; the [63] Words glowing; and the Language alive: To me, the Verſes themſelves ſeem to run on with joy, and pleaſure. The delightful Softneſs of thoſe lines in Homer [...] is diffus'd thro' the whole Deſcription by Mr. Pope; and the latter has the advantage of the Original, in concluding with a full elaſtick line, that carries a Spring with it, inſtead of the heavineſs of— [...].

I entirely agree with you (ſays Antiphaus) as to the turn of the Lines; 'Tis very fine and vigorous: but methinks even in theſe, what anſwers the two particular Greek Verſes you have repeated, are too much flouriſh'd, and more remarkable for their Sound, than for any other Idea they may give the Mind. The Senſe ſeems to be almoſt overlaid by the Fineſſe of them.

I ſhall not ſtand with you for that Couplet, anſwer'd Philypſus: what I chiefly admire is the general [...]low of the lines in the whole Paſſage.

This manner of writing, Antiphaus, is very aſſiſtant in expreſſing the nature of the Subject: and indeed, tho' Mr. Pope does ſometimes go too far in the Florid and Artificial, we may ſay in general, [64] that he is a very natural Writer. His Imagination is lively, his Colours ſtrong, and his Hand maſterly in moſt of his ſtrokes. We ſhou'd loſe our ſelves in endeavouring to obſerve all that variety of Beauties of this kind, which are to be found in his Tranſlation: one Point I have particularly admir'd in it; The Poet's peculiar Air, and Happineſs in drawing Landſcapes; eſpecially hanging Woods, Slopes, and Precipices: Thus,

—High Ithaca o'er-looks the Floods,
a Brown with o'er-arching Shades, and pendent Woods.

What Reader will be ſo unconcern'd, and ſo little taken with this Proſpect, as Ulyſſes is repreſented to be in another Part of the Poem? For 'tis the ſame place, that we have a deſcription of afterwards, when we are told, That he

—Deep-muſing, o'er the Mountains ſtray'd,
Thro' mazy thickets of the woodland ſhade,
And cavern'd ways, the ſhaggy coaſt along,
b With cliffs, and nodding foreſts over-hung.

In Ulyſſes's firſt adventures on Phaeacia, we are led on ſucceſſively, thro' ſeveral very beautiful Deſcriptions. Firſt we [65] have a a rocky Coaſt, excellently pictur'd in two lines only: thence we are carried into a b thick dark Wood, for that Night. The next Morning, we have a c View of the City; The firſt things which offer to the Eye are the Caſtle, and the Senate-houſe, riſing above the other Buildings; at a diſtance, acroſs the great Road, appears the Port with the Ships at Anchor, and their Sails fluttering in the Air: on the Shore, juſt by the Temple of Neptune, you ſee the Phaeacians buſied in the Dock, all in their ſeveral Employments. After this View, you paſs thro' a d delicious Range of Groves, and Meadow-ground, up to the Walls; while on this ſide, e appear the Gardens all in bloom; and the Vineyards of Alcinous cloſe the Scene on the other.

There can be nothing better imag'd, and more natural, than theſe Deſcriptions are in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation: they exceed even the Original it ſelf.

I beg leave to repeat another Deſcription to you, which lies not ſo diffus'd as the former; 'tis one ſingle View of Calypſo's [66] Grotto; and what an exact and beautiful Draught of it does it give us?

—A various Sylvan ſcene
Appears around, and groves of living green;
Poplars and Alders ever quivering play'd,
And nodding Cypreſs form'd a fragrant ſhade;
On whoſe high branches, waving with the ſtorm,
The Birds of broadeſt wing their manſion form,
(The Chough, the Sea-mew, the loquacious Crow)
And ſcream aloft, and skim the deeps below.
Depending Vines the ſhelving Cavern ſcreen,
With purple cluſters bluſhing thro' the green [...]
Four limpid fountains from the Cliff diſtill,
And every fountain pours a ſev'ral rill,
a In mazy windings wandring down the Hill.

Nothing can be more beautiful to the Eye, than theſe Landſcapes are in the Poem: they make every thing preſent to us; and agreeably deceive us into an Imagination, that we b actually See, what we only Hear: As the Poet may improve all his Circumſtances at pleaſure, what the Criticks have obſerv'd in this Caſe, is not ſo extravagant, as one wou'd imagine; we really ſee things more fully and with greater delight in the Poem, than we ſhou'd in the reality; The Picture improves upon Nature: and we might look [67] on the Proſpect it ſelf with a leſs pleaſure, than we hear it deſcrib'd.

Whoever is ſhock'd at this, may be pleas'd to conſider the Cave of the Nymphs, in the Thirteenth Book: That alone may ſerve to ſhew, how largely Circumſtances may be added, in deſcribing the works of Nature; or in drawing poetical Proſpects.

Mr. Pope ſhews an excellent Hand in ſeveral other Places; as in the firſt View of Circe's Palace at a diſtance, and conſtantly in the appearance of Land off at Sea.

Ulyſſes gives us an account of the former at his landing upon the Iſland of that Goddeſs.

b From the high Point I mark'd in diſtant view
A ſtream of curling Smoke aſcending blue,
And ſpiry tops, the tufted Trees above,
Of Circe's Palace boſom'd in the Grove.

The other is very frequent: take a Deſcription or two of it, that come into my Mind at preſent.

c Like diſtant Clouds the Mariner deſcries,
Fair Ithaca's emerging Hills ariſe.

[68] Again;

a The diſtant Land appear'd—
Then ſwell'd to ſight Phaeacia's dusky coaſt,
And woody Mountains half in vapours loſt;
That lay before him, indiſtinct and vaſt.
Like a broad Shield amid the watry waſte.

Nothing hath furniſh'd Homer (as well as Virgil) with ſuch a variety of natural Images, as this Element; and in nothing has Mr. Pope more finely copied his Original. But all theſe Beautiful Pictures, are only Pictures of ſtill Life; this Gentleman's Excellency reaches farther; he is as maſterly in all his Motions, and Actions; he can teach his Pencil to expreſs Ideas yet in the Mind; and to paint out the Paſſions of the Soul.

Sometimes we have all the Imagery in Motion: If a Ship is to ſet ſail, the Canvas ſwells to the Eye, the Streamers float in the Air, and the Sailors are all full of Noiſe and Buſineſs: b We ſee the Veſſel move on, and here the ruſhing ſound of the Water.

—The attending train
Load the tall bark, and launch into the main.
The Prince and Goddeſs to the ſtern aſcend;
(c) To the ſtrong ſtroke at once the rowers bend
Full from the Weſt ſhe bids freſh breezes blow;
The ſable billows foam and roar below.—
[69] With ſpeed the Maſt they rear, with ſpeed unbind
The ſpacious ſheet, and ſtretch it to the Wind.
High o'er the roaring Waves the ſpreading Sails
Bow the tall Maſt, and ſwell before the gales;
The crooked keel the parting ſurge divides,
And to the ſtern retreating roll the tides.

At another time, you behold the Rowers, drawing a the Oar to their broad Breaſts; and the different attitudes of them, as they b bend, or c ſtretch to the ſtroke.

d At once they bend and ſtrike their equal oars,
And leave the ſinking hills and leſs'ning ſhores.

This Idea of the Land ſeeming to ſink and recede, is very beautifully added, in another Place, where we have the Deſcription of a Perſon driving, very ſwiftly, in a Chariot: I believe you will hear the entire Paſſage with Pleaſure, as it is all very Juſt and Natural:

With haſty hand the ruling reins he drew:
He laſh'd the courſers, and the courſers flew.
Beneath the bounding yoke alike they held
Their equal pace, and ſmoak'd along the field [...]
The Tow'rs of Pylos ſink, its views decay,
Fields after fields fly back, till cloſe of Day;
e Then ſunk the Sun, and darken'd all the way.

[70]

Along the waving fields their way they hold,
a The fields receding as the Chariot roll'd.

Give me leave (interpos'd Antiphaus) to obſerve one thing, by the way. Mr. Pope (poſſibly, to make this the more ſenſible to us at preſent) deviates a little from the Truth; and chuſes rather to ſhew the Poet, than the Antiquary. As I take it, the Horſes in the Chariots of the Ancients were not beneath the Yoke. Do not their Medals, and all the Pictures of them repreſent it otherwiſe? And does not the Verſe, here in the Original, ſhew its Poſition in reſpect of the Horſes, very particularly and diſtinctly?

However, this is a ſlip of a ſmall Nature: and had the thing been expreſs'd in exact Conformity to the Grecian faſhion in this particular, it might not have ſtruck the Reader ſo ſtrongly, as it does now, by its Agreement with the preſent Idea of the ſame thing.

I am not concern'd, ſays Philypſus, either in defending, or giving up that particular: I only inſtance this Paſſage, in general, for its expreſſiveneſs of ſuch an Action; and of the Ideas, ariſing in [71] the Mind upon it: As to that End, I believe it will hold very well. The Deſcription and Sentiment is very Natural, (reply'd Antiphaus) I beg you to go on without obſerving any little breaks for the future, which may be occaſion'd by ſuch Circumſtances, as do not affect the chief Aim and Deſign of a Quotation.

If the Poet, proceeded Philypſus, can paint out the Ideas in the Mind with ſo much Juſtice, as he appears to do by this inſtance; and more particularly by another mention'd before (of the ſucceſſive openings and unfolding of an unknown Truth, in the Mind of Circe) we ſhall find him to have been equally Happy in expreſſing the Paſſions of the Soul. Something of this has been mention'd already, and almoſt an infinite variety of Beauties of the ſame kind might be added. They [...]bound every where in the Tranſlation, and are generally well touched. But there is the Deſcription of one Paſſion in particular, which is perſerv'd throughout the whole Piece: It is Ulyſſes his Love for his Country. Give me leave to repeat ſome of the firſt, and laſt Paſſages, in which it is expreſt. How ſtrongly does Minerva repreſent this, even in the [...]ery entrance of the Poem? She ſays the [72] Hero is detain'd from Ithaca, by a Goddeſs (nothing human cou'd have forced him into ſo tedious an abſence: by a Goddeſs)

Who ſooths to dear delight his anxious mind—
Succeſsleſs all her ſoft careſſes prove,
To baniſh from his breaſt his Country's love;
To ſee the Smoke from his lov'd palace [...]iſe,
While the dear Iſle in diſtant proſpect lies,
a With what contentment wou'd he cloſe his eyes?

The firſt Appearance of the Hero is moſt excellently imagined. Calypſo has juſt receiv'd orders to detain Ulyſſes no longer from his Country; ſhe finds him ſitting alone upon the Rocks, the Tears trickling down his Cheeks, and his Eyes fixt upon the Sea. It was thus that he paſs'd his Hours, in the Iſland of that Goddeſs: He conſtantly,

In ſlumber wore the heavy Night away;
On Rocks and Shores conſum'd the [...]edious Day:
There ſate all deſolate, and ſigh'd alone,
With echoing ſorrows made the mountains gro [...]n [...]
And roll'd his eyes o'er all the reſtleſs main,
b Till dim'd with riſing grief, they ſtream'd again

Pardon me, ſays Antiphaus; even her [...] (tho' the Paſſion be ſtrongly ſet out yet) the Language of the two Paſſages which you repeated laſt, is not entirel [...] [73] free from the old Fault: the Enflure is ſtill diſcernible. That ſoothing an anxious Mind to dear delight, falls ſhort of the plainneſs, and energy of the Original:—To make the Mountains groan with echoing Sorrow, is yet more over-wrought.—And the ſtreaming again of his Eyes, is not exactly right in the Tranſlation, which does not mention, his weeping before; at the ſame time, that it varies from the Original, which ſays that he never ceas'd from weeping.

We meet with another Image of this (reply'd Philypſus) in the Evening before Ulyſſes ſets ſail for Ithaca; which, I believe, you will allow to be better expreſs'd. He was then in ſo delightful a Place, as the Court of Alcino [...]s. They had a multitude of Diverſions there: the Phaea [...]ians were the happieſt People in the World; Races and Entertainments, Mirth, Wine, and Muſick were the chief Buſineſs of their Lives. Ulyſſes appears among them with a quite different [...]ce: he looks like a Creature of an higher Make, of an Order above them; and his Mind is taken up with farther Views, and other Deſires.

All, but Ulyſſes, heard with fixt delight:
He [...]ate, and ey'd the Sun, and wiſh'd the Night;
[74] Slow ſeem'd the Sun to move, the hours to roll,
a His native Home deep-imag'd in his Soul.

We are continually put in mind of this fondneſs of the Hero for his Country: and in the laſt Caſe, it is particularly fixt upon the Reader by a very expreſſive b Simile. We may imagine the ardency of Ulyſſes's Love for his Ithaca, his own proper Country, when we conſider his Affection for his Country-men, the Grecians in general. Upon an occaſional revival in his Thoughts of the Deſtructions and Miſery they underwent before Troy, the Hero's Diſſimulation (great as it was) is overcome; his Paſſion breaks through every reſtraint: we immediately ſee him all in Tears. This tenderneſs of his, is painted in another Simile, the moſt pathetick that can be conceiv'd, and the moſt expreſſive of his Affection for his Country-men.

Ulyſſes's griefs renew;
Tears bath his cheeks, and tears the ground [...]edew:
As ſome fond Matron views in mortal fight
Her Husband falling in his Country's right;
Frantick thro' claſhing Swords ſhe runs, ſhe flies,
As ghaſtly pale he groans, and faints, and dies;
Cloſe to his Breaſt ſhe grovels on the ground,
And bathes with floods of [...]ears the gaping wound;
[75] She cries, ſhe ſhrieks: the fierce inſulting foe
Relentleſs mocks her violence of woe,
To chains condemn'd as wildly ſhe deplores,
a A widow, and a ſlave on foreign ſhores.

It wou'd be endleſs to repeat every thing of this Nature; There are a Thouſand sketches of it in the Odyſſey. 'Tis ſufficient at preſent to obſerve, that Mr. Pope generally gives them to us in very lively Colours; and excells almoſt every where in the Pathetick. 'Tis certain (ſays Antiphaus) that he has an excellent Hand; his Images, which you have ſet before me, are as ſtrong as any of the Works of the Pencil. They are ſo, anſwered Philypſus; and, on that account, you will Pardon me for borrowing ſo many Metaphors from Painting in this Caſe; 'Tis unavoidable. The deſigns of Painting and Poetry are ſo united, that to me the Poet and the Painter ſeem ſcarcely to differ in any thing, except the Mean they make uſe of, to arrive at one and the ſame end. Both are to expreſs Nature: but the Materials of the one are Words, and Sound; of the other, Figure and Colours. Poetry can paint more particularly, more largely, and with greater coherence [...] Painting is [76] the more conciſe, and emphatical. If This may excell in ſhewing one View diſtinctly, That can ſhew ſeveral in ſucceſſion, without any manner of Confuſion. Any figure in Painting is confin'd to one Attitude; but Poetry can give as great a variety of Motion and Poſtures, as the reality it ſelf. What ſeems a Paradox of Art in either, is their Power of expreſſing two oppoſite Paſſions in the ſame face. Of this ſort (among a Multitude of like inſtances) is the Mother of Lewis the Thirteenth, in the Gallery of Luxembourg; and every Piece in that fine Epiſode, which conc [...]udes the ſixth Iliad. In that Picture, the Queens Face ſtrongly expreſſes the Pain and Anguiſh of her Condition, mix'd with a regard toward her Son, full of the greateſt Pleaſure and Complacence. In the Poem we have the greater variety, and each piece is perfectly juſt and finiſh'd. Hector ſhews a ſierceneſs for the War, and a tenderneſs that inclines him to ſtay for a laſt interview; little Aſtyanax has a Fondneſs and a Terror in his Eyes, a [...] the ſight of his Father; while Andromache's Face is all ſoften'd into a tende [...] Smile; and at the ſame time, wet with the Tears, that fall for her Hector.

[77] I remember (ſays Antiphaus) it was to you that I was oblig'd for the firſt Obſervation, I ever met with, on theſe Double Paſſions. I have ſince read ſeveral things, (in the Aeneid, as well as in the Works of Homer) with a pleaſure perfectly new, on account of the light, you then gave me, into this particular: And out of a Thouſand Places, that I have obſerv'd it in ſince, I know none ſo beautiful as that of Achaemenides in Virgil; which you mention'd to me, the firſt time we ever talk'd of this Subject.

That you know (reply'd Philypſus) to have been always my Favourite: I have read it over in Dryden ſo frequently, that I believe I can now repeat you his Tranſlation of it:

—From the Woods there bolts, before our ſight,
Somewhat betwixt a Mortal and a Spright;
So thin, ſo ghaſtly meager, and ſo wan,
So bare of Fleſh, he ſcarce reſembled Man:
This thing, all tatter'd, ſeem'd from far t'implor [...]
Our pious Aid and pointed to the Shore;
We look behind; then view his ſhaggy Beard:
His cloaths were tagg'd with thorns, and [...]ilth his limbs be [...]mear'd:
The reſt in mein, in habit, and in face [...]
Appear'd a Greek; and ſuch indeed he was:
He caſt on us from far a frightful view,
Whom ſoon for Trojans and for foes he knew;
S [...]ood ſtill, and paus'd [...] then, all at once, began
To ſtretch his Limbs, and trembled as he ran;
[78] Soon as approach'd, upon his knees he falls,
And thus with tears and ſighs for pity calls:
"Now by the Pow'rs above, and what we ſhare
"From Natures common gift, this vital Air,
"a O Trojans, take me hence.—

'Tis but too evident (continu'd Philypſus) that Mr. Dryden falls as much [...]hort of b Virgil in the chief turn, that relates to our preſent purpoſe; as Virgil has exceeded that c Paſſage in the Iliad, which ſeems to have given him the hint for drawing this admirable Image.

This Diſtraction of Achaemenides between ſeveral Paſſions at once, puts me in mind of the dubiouſneſs and ſhifting of thoughts, which is illuſtrated by Homer by a very apt and expreſſive Simile; than which (ſays Mr. Pope) ‘There d is ſcarce any thing, in the whole compaſs of Nature, that can more exactly repreſent the State of an irreſolute mind, wavering between two different Deſigns; ſometimes inclining to the [79] one, ſometimes to the other, and then moving to that Point to which its Reſolution is at laſt determin'd:’

As when old Ocean's ſilent ſurface Sleeps,
The Waves juſt heaving on the purple Deeps;
While yet th' expected Tempeſt hangs on high,
Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky,
The maſs of waters will no wind obey:
Jove ſends one guſt, and bids them roll away.
While wavering counſels thus his mind engage,
Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian ſage;
To join the hoſt, or to the General haſte
a Debating long, he fixes on the laſt.

There is ſomething of this Mélange of Paſſions, (and thoſe too, the moſt beautiful in this Caſe, I mean of oppoſite Paſſions) in that line of Milton, where he ſays that Death

Grin'd horrible a ghaſtly ſmile—

One wou'd almoſt be perſwaded, that Homer is the dernier Reſſort of all the fineſt Thoughts in Poetry; for this likewiſe is copied from him, tho' it fails very much (as to the Point in hand) both of the Original, and of Mr. Pope's Tranſlation of it.—Juno makes a very mutinous Speech in an aſſembly of the Deities: The Infection took, as much as ſhe cou'd deſire: and that ſucceſs, [80] provok'd and inflamed as ſhe was, forced her to be ſomewhat pleaſed, in ſpite of her ſelf: Upon this ſhe ſhews a ſort of a uneaſy ſatisfaction, and ſuch a Smile, as Ovid b gives to his Envy in the Metamorphoſis.

To ſee the gath'ring grudge in every breaſt,
Smiles on her lips a ſpleenful joy expreſt;
While on her wrinkled front, and eye-brow bent,
c Sate ſtedfaſt care and lowring diſcontent.

This ſtruggle of Paſſions has been imitated by ſome Moderns: The firſt of the French Writers in Tragedy has a fine Occaſion for it in the Wife of one of the Horatij; ſhe was Siſter at the ſame time to the Curiatij; ſo that you may imagine, how ſhe muſt be diſtracted between the Intereſt of the two Cities, and that eminent conteſt which ſo particularly involv'd the two Families: She is introduc'd upon that Occaſion, ſpeaking to this purpoſe d:

[81]
Alba! my deareſt Country! Why cou'd fate
Mark ou [...] no other foe for Rome, but Alba?
From our Defeat what Terror muſt I feel?
And yet—I dread our Victory.—

There are many things in Virgil's fourth Aeneid, which might be produc'd on this Occaſion: but 'tis more to our preſent Subject to conſider that part of the Odyſſey, from which ſome of its fineſt ſtrokes are borrow'd. Calypſo, when ſhe acquaints our Hero with the deſign of his departure from her Iſland; upon his doubting her ſincerity, ſwears very ſolemnly, that her Reſolutions are real: the next moment, ſhe falls into a Speech full of Inſinuations and Arguments to detain him: both theſe ſpeeches may rather be ſaid to be enliven'd and improv'd, than to be well tranſlated by Mr. Pope; this only wou'd be too narrow a Commendation of them:—The firſt runs thus:

How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wiſe?
But hear, Oh Earth, and hear, Ye ſacred Skies!
And thou, Oh Styx! whoſe formidable floods
Glide thro' the ſhades, and bind th' atteſting Gods;
No form'd deſign, no meditated end
Lurks in the counſel of thy faithful friend;
Kind the perſwaſion, and ſincere my aim;
The ſame my practiſe, were my fate the ſame.
Heaven has not curſt me with a heart of ſteel,
a But giv'n the ſenſe to pity and to feel

[82] One wou'd think now that the Goddeſs was to do nothing but to adviſe about his Voyage, and the Conveniencies for it: but her Paſſions immediately veer about; and the very next Page, the very next time ſhe ſpeaks, is all in a ſtrain entirely oppoſite to what ſhe has been ſaying in this:

Ulyſſ [...]s! (with a ſigh ſhe thus began)
O ſprung from Gods! in wiſdom more than Man!
I [...] then thy home the paſſion of thy heart?
Thus wilt thou leave me? are we thus to part?
Farewel! and ever joyful may'ſt thou be;
Nor break the tranſport with one thought of me.
But ah Ulyſſes! wert thou giv'n to know
What fate yet dooms thee, yet, to undergo,
a Thy heart might ſettle in this ſcene of eaſe &c.

I muſt not forget here, that the fineſ [...] of the modern Italian Poets has expreſs'd this Melange, on an occaſion which is attended with ſuch a Circumſtance, as exceeds any of the other: The particular in which he ſhews it, ſhews at the ſame time the ſwiftneſs of the intervening paſſion; and expreſſes the ſtrongeſt of any how immediately one flow of Spirits ſucceeds upon a former and quite contrar [...] emotion. Armida, deſerted by her Rinaldo, breaths nothing but fury and revenge; [83] ſhe purſues him in the heat of the battle; forgetful of her former paſſion, ſhe aims an arrow at his heart: but ſee, while it is yet in its flight, how the paſſions vary on her face! her rage and fury ſoften into tenderneſs and apprehenſions of his danger! in an inſtant her Love is too ſtrong for her Reſentment: in an inſtant, ſhe dreads leaſt her Deſign ſhou'd be effectual, and longs to be diſappointed in her aim:

(a) Swift flies the ſhaft: as ſwiftly flies her pray'r,
That all its vehemence be ſpent in air.

How finely are the Paſſions blended in this piece? the Tranſition from the extremity of fury to an exceſs of love, is manag'd in ſuch a manner, as to be wholly [...]nſenſible: as when two Colours are loſt [...]n the Shades of each other, the Eye is [...]greeably deceived; and we are delight [...]d with the delicacy of their Union, [...]o' unable to diſcover where one com [...]ences, or the other ends.

In this particular there is not any [...]ing that can equal Poetry, or bear to [...] compared with it, except its ſiſter- [...]t of Painting; that might copy every 133 [84] inſtance, I have mention'd here: And certainly what makes ſo beautiful a Figure in the fineſt Poets, might deſerve the imitation of the beſt Painters. Was not the Dolon and Calypſo of Homer worthy the hand of a Zeuxis or Parrhaſius, a Protogenes or Apelles? Wou'd not the Aruns or Achaemenides of Virgil have been a fine deſign even for Raphael and Angelo to have work'd upon? If our Shakeſpear can give us the ſtruggle of Paſſions in the Breaſt of Coriolanus, Thornhill might trace the ſame, and ſpeak them as well with his Pencil: And if Corneille expreſſes the contrary deſires of the ſiſter of the Curiatij, his Country-man Le Brun might have had a much finer Subject in the various Paſſions of the Sabines, ruſhing in amidſt the two contending Armies; to prevent thoſe fatal Conſequences, in which the Victory of either party muſt neceſſarily involve them.

But what I have often thought of as the fineſt Subject of this kind, either for Poetry or Painting, is the firſt Bru [...]us on the Judicial ſeat; juſt before the act of giving Sentence on his own Sons [...] for their treachery to the Common-wealth [...] What a noble ſtrife was there betwee [...] natural Affection, and the Love of one' [...] Country? between Duty, and Deſire [85] between common Humanity, and the Spirit (perhaps the Pride) of a Roman? What a fine Groupe of Figures wou'd the Suppliants for the Criminals compoſe in ſuch a Piece? On one ſide of the Tribunal, the Wife of the Judge and Mother of the Offenders; and all the Relations divided in the ſame manner, between a deſire of moving Pity, and an abhorrence of the very Crime, for the Pardon of which they wou'd intercede: The People of Rome, on the other ſide, with looks full of mixt Paſſions; ſome ſtruck with Pity amidſt all their ſeverity, ſome almoſt condemning and yet approving at the ſame time, the rigid juſtice of the Father; while others commiſerate the Youth of the Sons, and ſeem incens'd at the unnatural impartiality of the Judge.

'Tis a Misfortune, that Virgil's Hand was withheld from launching farther, a where he has touch'd upon this Subject: but it wou'd be well made up to us, if any eminent Perſon, in the other Art, wou'd undertake it: It might certainly make a finiſht Piece: and Painting in this particular wou'd have the advantage of Poetry; as it could expreſs this Mélange of paſſions directly, and wou'd ſtrike the mind with them in their proper Union, all at once: whereas, when taken from [86] the Poetical Picture, the combination is not ſo eaſy; and we ſcarce ever conceive it, ſo cloſely as we ought.

Were you to give me full ſcope, I ſhou'd carry the r [...]ſemblance between theſe Arts much farther than it has ever yet been carried: There is ſcarce a Figure or Manner in Poetry which I ſhou'd not imagine to have its tally in the Schools of the Painters: I cou'd find it even in the very next point, which comes in my way, in the Emphatical. Natural Deſcriptions, as they are Pictures which take in the various Circumſtances of a place or action, give us generally ſeveral Groupes of finiſht Figures: This, on the contrary, is a way of expreſſing Nature in Poetry, not unlike Out-lines and Sketches in Painting: and as the lines in Sketches are fewer, but the more diſtinct; this muſt be always conciſe, and very expreſſive.

There are ſeveral maſterly ſtrokes of the Emphatical kind in the Odyſſey: Such is that Speech of Telemachus, where he ſays

Prepar'd I ſtand. He was but born to try
a The lot of Man: To ſuffer, and to die.

Such is Circe's whole ſpeech b which [87] I repeated to you before, on account of its Pathos. Such, in an high degree, is the firſt rencounter of the Hero with that Goddeſs,

Hence to thy Fellows (Dreadful ſhe began)
a Go, be a Beaſt.—I heard; and yet was Man.

This Manner is neceſſary in all Sententious paſſages, and moral reflections; 'tis often ſtrong in expreſſing the paſſions: and peculiarly uſeful in the Sublime. Take an inſtance of each, from Mr. Pope.

b—Pyrates and conquerors, of harden'd mind,
The foes of peace, and ſcourges of mankind,
To whom offending Men are made a prey
When Jove in vengeance gives a land away;
E [...]'n theſe, when of their ill-got ſpoils poſſeſs'd,
Find ſure tormentors in the guilty breaſt:
Some voice of God cloſe whiſpering from within,
"Wretch! this is Villany, and this is Sin."

The reflection upon ſeeing Agamemnon in Ades, is of this kind.

c Now all Atrides is an empty ſhade!

Juſt after Atrides ſpeaks thus paſſionately in the account of his own Death, by the treachery of Aegiſthus: [88]

a But not with me the direful Murther ends;
Theſe, Theſe expir'd!—Their crime, they were my friends.

In the Sublime, nothing can be higher than the language of his Gods, Neptun [...] and Jupiter:

b If ſuch thy Will—We will it, Jove replies,

This latter is that ſhort full way of Expreſſion, ſo frequent in c Virgil and d Homer, copied perhaps by both from the admired Example of it in e Moſes, and grown ſince into an f Axiom among the Criticks. It is the more to be commended in Mr. Pope, becauſe the turn, [...]e gives the Line, is perfectly his own: Indeed in every one of theſe inſtances, as I take it, the Chief of their ſtrength and emphaſis, is owing to the Improvements in the Tranſlation.

Antiphaus cou'd ſcarce imagine, that theſe were all clear improvements upon Homer: He immediately conſulted the paſſages in the Original; and was ſurpriz'd to find, how far they fell ſhort of the Tranſlation; eſpecially, in the line [...] [89] that anſwer Circe's threat, and the complaint of Agamemnon. I am pleas'd (ſays he) beyond meaſure, in conſulting theſe parts of the Poem, to ſee how much ſtrength and force there is added to them; have you not obſerv'd more inſtances of this kind? impart them to me, good Philypſus: 'Tis no matter for method or regularity; Give them to me immediately.—Had I time (anſwer'd Philypſus) I cou'd find out ſeveral other places which have all their proper improvements; at preſent, I ſhall refer you to the beginning of Menelaus his ſpeech to Telemachus in the Fourth Odyſſey, Neſtor's a in the Third; and in the Tenth, the ſpeeches between Ulyſſes and Circe.—I was going to point out ſome paſſages in the b Deſcent into Hell: but 'tis difficult to ſingle out particular beauties from that book; The whole of it is ſo excellently Tranſlated, and (I believe I may ſay) ſo generally improv'd.

The mentioning Circe juſt now, puts me in mind of another paſſage: 'Tis where Homer deſcribes the Metamorphoſis of the companions of Ulyſſes. They had (ſays he) the Shape and the Voice of [90] Beaſts, a but their Mind remain'd firm and unalter'd: this Mr. Pope improves into the following lines.

b Still curſt with ſenſe, their mind remains alone,
And their own voice affrights them when they groan.

The addition here is very Natural, and full of Beauty; in ſuch changes, particularities of this kind ſtrike us very much: Virgil touches them on this Occaſion c with his uſual happineſs; and d Ovid, who has ſhown a particular talent for ſuch ſubjects, has left us the very ſame thought with this of Mr. Pope.

I remember that Mr. Pope appear'd to me, upon my firſt reading his Tranſlation, to have improv'd much upon the Original in his Poetical Repetitions of the ſame word, the Figure in which he is moſt frequent. Thus is it us'd in the following lines:

A Scene, where if a God ſhou'd caſt his ſight.
e A God might gaze, and wander with delight.
[91]
a Never, Never wicked man was wiſe.
b Here, or in Pyle.—In Pyle or here, your foe.

And in theſe other very Pathetical,

c Then ſtay, my Child!—Storms beat, and rolls the Main,
Oh beat thoſe Storms, and roll the Seas in vain!

'Tis yet more beautiful, when the Repetition holds farther; as in this Paſſage:

d Tranſported with the ſong, the liſtning train
Again with loud applauſe demand the ſtrain:
Again Ulyſſes veil'd his penſive head,
Again unman'd, a ſhow'r of Sorrow ſhed.

This ſometimes gives an additional ſolemnity, and riſes ſtronger and ſtronger each Line:

Celeſtial as thou art, yet ſtand deny'd:
O [...] ſwear that oath, by which the Gods are ty'd,
Swear, in thy ſoul no latent frauds remain,
e Swear, by the vow which never can be vain.

This is ſometimes carried yet farther; and in Virgil particularly there is a fine Inſtance of this ſort of Repetition f being doubled.

[92] But in nothing is this figure more beautiful, than in the a Siren's Song: That Piece of antient Muſick, is greatly enliven'd in the Tranſlation; the whole flows on in a peculiar Harmony, and the Chorus is very happily added in the Concluſion of it:

Celeſtial muſick warbles from their tongue,
And thus the ſweet deluders tune the ſong.
O ſtay, oh Pride of Greece! Ulyſſes, ſtay!
O ceaſe thy courſe, and liſten to our lay!
Bleſt is the Man ordain'd our voice to hear,
The ſong inſtructs the ſoul, and charms the ear.
Approach! thy ſoul ſhall into raptures riſe!
Approach! and learn new wiſdom from the wiſe.
We know whate'er the Kings of mighty name
Atchiev'd at Ilion in the field of fame;
Whate'er beneath the ſun's bright journey lies.
O ſtay, and learn new wiſdom from the wiſe!

The peculiar juſtice and propriety of this, is the manner in which theſe Goddeſſes apply to Ulyſſes; a by offering him knowledge; a thing the moſt oppoſite to their own Complexion; and a motive, the moſt likely to obtain upon that Hero. Mr. Pope has ſhewn his taſte, and his judgment, very much in improving ſo finely upon this Circumſtance: but what runs through the whole, is that muſical enliven'd turn of the Verſes. This is 161 [93] the happineſs, which of all things I admire in this writer: either in proſe, or verſe, he has the fineſt flow that can be imagin'd. I have often heard a very good Critick ſay, That whenever he is reading any Proſe of Mr. Pope's, he cannot help thinking that he ſhould never have wrote any thing elſe: and whenever he reads his Verſes, he is angry with him, for loſing any time from them, for Proſe. How often has the ſame Gentleman apply'd to this writer thoſe Lines in Milton, in which he ſpeaks of the firſt Poet, as well as the firſt of Men?

a Such prompt Eloquence
Flows from his lips: In Proſe or numerous Verſe
More tuneable, than needed Lu [...]e or Harp
To add more ſweetneſs.—

Among ſo many excellencies, the repeating thoſe Lines, which make the Chorus of this Song of the Sirens is not the leaſt beautiful Circumſtance: there are a Multitude of other paſſages, which deſerve to be mention'd on account of the fine Repetitions in them: theſe are what fell into my thoughts at preſent; and you have them in the ſame ſcatter'd manner, that they appear there: But one method of Improvement in this Tranſlation, I took [94] particular notice of, and in that, I can be a little more full and diſtinct.

Mr. Pope has a very great happineſs in Transferring Beauties. He often guides his Tranſlation of Homer by ſome fine thought, or good expreſſion in any other eminent writer; and this has been the occaſion of ſeveral improvements in that work.

Have you never obſerv'd how he introduces the Elegance of Virgil, into the Majeſty of Homer? There are two a ſpeeches of Circe, which have much of the air of that of Proteus, in the fourth Georgick [...] and that of the Sybill's in the ſixth Aeneid. The ſpeech of b Tireſias is improv'd, from another of the Sybill; ſo alſo is the Prophetical ſpeech, in the c ſecond Odyſſey.

There are ſeveral Imitations (in a ſhorter compaſs) of natural Images, and the like, introduc'd into Homer from the ſame treaſury: Thus the following Lines

d Down-ſunk the Heavy beaſt.
e Laeſtrigonia's gates ariſe diſtinct in air.
f—The ſhores like miſts ariſe.
g And all above is Sky and Ocean all around. &c.

[95] Although the Tranſlator adds theſe fine ſtrokes from other Hands, they are brought in ſo naturally, that they ſeem to ſpring out of Homer's ſentiment: And if an Inſtance or two ſhou'd be found among them which may vary a little from the Original, it is only to add ſome appoſite Thought, that is not only finer, but at the ſame time perfectly agreeable to the Subject. In ſuch caſes a Tranſlator may demand the greater liberty of enlarging: as a Flattering Reſemblance is always allow'd to Painters. I like that [...]ery ingenious Friend of yours, who calls [...]he French Tranſlation of Tacitus, La [...]lle Infidelle: That piece, you know, [...]ho' not very preciſe and conſtant to its [...]uthor, is the more beautiful, and the [...]ore engaging.

However 'tis ſeldom that Mr. Pope va [...]es much in theſe additional Beauties; [...]s Tranſlation is generally faithful, even [...]here it improves upon Homer: And he [...]eps the chief mark ſteadily in his Eye, [...]o' at the ſame Time it admits the ſide [...]ances of Light, from other objects. [...]hus you will ſcarce ever find him de [...]ting from his Author in ſuch caſes: [...]o' this manner of improving him by [...]itation from others is vaſtly frequent; [...]d often ſo plain, that one may trace it [96] thro' whole ſcenes together: In particular, I cou'd almoſt be poſitive that Mr. Pope read over the Eclogues of Virgil, before he ſet about that Part of the Story, which lies between Ul [...]ſſes and Eumaeus; and indeed I ſhould be apt to conjecture that he uſually read thoſe Paſtorals, before he ſat down to any rural Scene in this Piece: If I am miſtaken in this, 'tis the a reſemblance of their beauties, which has deceiv'd me.

Sometimes we find the Diction beautified by ſuch Reſemblances, or the Sentiment improv'd from other hands. From the b Sacred Writings frequently; from parallel places in c Homer himſelf: From Ovid, Seneca, Horace, &c. among the Ancients; And from d Dryden, Addiſon, [97] Milton, and ſeveral others of the moſt celebrated Moderns. In his Speeches, we meet with improvements from the Examples and Rules of the Orators of old; and many, from our own Dramatick pieces. It wou'd not be difficult, for a Man of a good Taſte, to diſcern the Air ſometimes of Dryden, ſometimes of a Shakeſpear, and at others of Otway, among the ſpeeches in the Odyſſey. I ſhall only point out to you thoſe of Agamemnon, which are ſo very pathetick, in the b Eleventh Book: You will eaſily ſee that they have a new manner, which exceedingly reſembles the hand of the moſt moving of all our Tragick Writers, ſince Shakeſpear.

Antiphaus, upon conſulting the paſſages, immediately perceiv'd the ſpirit of O [...]way in them; He then deſired Philypſus to direct him to the other imitations he had mention'd: at firſt he did not think they deſerv'd ſo much commendation; but when he came to Compare the original Lines from the Odyſſey, with thoſe of Mr. Pope, he was convinc'd of their 176 [98] beauty: It delighted him to ſee, what Foundation the Original gave for ſuch a turn, and yet how new that turn was in the Tranſlation; he found almoſt in every one of them ſome addition for the better, and ſcarce in any a deviation from the ſenſe of Homer: It was Homer's ſenſe, but the Expreſſion of it was improv'd. I thank you, (ſays he turning to Philypſus) I thank you for this clearer view you have given me of the beauties of this Tranſlation: beſide theſe laſt, how many things have you repeated to me that are extremely juſt, pure, cloſe, and emphatical? how many perfectly true, and natural? how many handſomly beautified, and enliven'd? what Pictures of Things? what Deſcriptions of Actions? and what beautiful Expreſſions, both of the thoughts, and of the paſſions of the ſoul? in a word, what improvements, in ſome ſtrokes, upon the greateſt Genius of the World?—Yes, added Philypſus, upon the greateſt Genius of the World, aſſiſted by the native uſe of the moſt Noble, and moſt Poetical of all Languages. Then were we to conſider the inconveniences on the other ſide; the general difficulties of Tranſlation [...] and the difficulty o [...] this in particular: How hard is it for [...] Poet to keep up his ſpirit and flame in [99] another's Work? and how natural to [...]lag in repreſenting Thoughts not our own? To maintain the vigour of Language and the poetick warmth thorough ſo long a work, and to expreſs the Soul of Homer, what a Genius does it require? what Spirit wou'd not ſink under ſo large an undertaking? Yet does Mr. Pope hitherto ſuſtain his Character in an handſome equal manner: and we may ſafely promiſe ourſelves the ſame of the remaining part of this work: As he enter'd upon this ſtage with the greateſt expectations of all Men, I doubt not but he will leave it with an Univerſal Plaudite.

But however great and handſome his performance is in the whole, I own with you that it has its faults, the common marks of Humanity: Yes, my Antiphaus, you convinc'd me the former Evening, that it is unavoidable for the greateſt Genius not to fail ſometimes. For my [...]art (ſays Antiphaus,) I ſhall make no Apologies for the freedoms with which I then us'd this excellent writer: Any [...]hing of that kind might look odd to you [...]rom one, whoſe conſtant Sentiment you [...]now to be this; that the kindeſt way of [...]mmending a writer, is to find fault with [...]im now and then, at proper intervals. [...]oes not this evince an Impartiality in [100] your views, and add an air of Sincerity and Juſtice to thoſe Commendations, which you give him? Your Criticks, who extol a Man Univerſally, and will not be ſatisfied with any thing under a [...]er [...]ect Character, without any the leaſt defect, are a kind of Romantick Criticks; they are rather making an Hero, than deſcribing a Man: They give you a Picture of ſomething, which exiſts no where but in their own Minds: and a compleat Poet, according to their repreſentations of ſuch, will after all be only (what the Earl of Mulgrave calls it;)

A [...]aultl [...]ſs Monſter which the world ne'er ſaw.

Very true, ſays Philypſus; that ſort of Criticks [...]ail as much on one hand, as [...]u [...] more Modern Criticks have excee [...]ed uſually on the other: Indeed the former err on the good-natur'd ſide; yet both of them are very much to blame: For as it ſhews a miſchievous ſort of Frenz [...] to ſtart errors, where there are really none [...] ſo an Obſtinacy not to ſee [...]aults, where they are very evident, requires either a good degree of Ignorance, or a moſt inveterate Fondneſs.

I am entirely of your opinion, ſays Antiphaus, and ſince I find you in ſuch a [101] temper for it, I cou'd almoſt of [...]er to ſhew you ſome farther remarks on that ſide of the Queſtion,—Have you any other then? (ſays Philypſus.) A Few, anſwer'd Antiphaus; but I beg one Evening more on this Topick. At preſent I ſhall only add my wiſhes, that we may conſtantly uſe thisfair method, in reading all the celebrated Pieces, which come out among us: Let us keep up the true ballance; and not ſuffer ourſelves to be prejudic'd either by too great fondneſs, or too violent diſlike. This is the great Rule of Antient Criticiſm: Always to keep our Hearts open to the beauties of a Poem; and never to ſhut our Eyes againſt the defects of it.

An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the THIRD.

[102]

ALMOST all the next day Philypſus was taken up in reflecting on what had been ſaid at the cloſe of their laſt meeting: he began to be not ſo uneaſy, as uſual, in thinking that the faults of a favourite Poet were to be lookt into that Evening; he did not value Mr. Pope leſs than formerly, but he was throughly convinc'd that there was not ſo much of ſeverity in this Method, as he had once imagin'd. "No: (ſays h [...] to himſelf) Let us view impartially, that we may rationally admire: Where before I was immediately in love with his [...]eauties and fond of the Work, I now [103] feel an equal Pleaſure and an equal Eſteem; but it is in a different manner: I now ſeem to ſee the cauſes that move me to be pleas'd with thoſe fine Paſſages, and feel a more juſt and manly Satisfaction in them: 'Tis true, the Soul is not hurried away with that vehemence of delight, as formerly; but the agreeable Senſe I now have from them, is both more refin'd, and more laſting. How much is this rational way of admiring to be prefer'd to the common, vulgar paſſionate one? This is as a flaſh of Lightning; but the other is like the Light of the Day: 'Tis a ſerene, dif [...]us'd, ſteady light, which at the ſame time that it diſcovers all Objects to us, is it ſelf the moſt beautiful of any.

But then (continued he) how blind was I to the defects of this Poet. Has not Antiphaus ſhown me ſeveral, which before I had no ſenſe of, and which now appear evidently to be ſuch? Indeed that over-ſight was more excuſable in reading the Works of this celebrated Writer, than it wou'd have been in any other: Reaſon may well loſe ſomething of her Liberty, when ſhe is taken up with an Object every way ſo agreeable and engaging: However, for the future, I reſolve to keep my ſelf obſtinately from [104] being over-pleas'd with any thing; and to read his, as all other the beſt Pieces, in ſpight of all their Beauty, by that Rule which Antiphaus has laid down.

With theſe Thoughts he open'd the Tranſlation which lay on his desk; and was very buſy in conſidering it, when Company came in, and interrupted him for that Night: The next Day he employ'd himſelf in the ſame manner; This ſort of view was new to him, and of courſe the more agreeable: Sometimes he met with a line or two, that diſguſted him a little; but much more frequently was he ſtruck with the Beauties of the Poem; and thoſe he enjoy'd with a full Delight, as he found that Delight to be rational and juſt. This ſearch drew him on ſtrangely; he did not know how to leave off: And tho' Antiphaus ſtay'd for the Evening before he wou'd diſturb him, he found him ſtill cloſely employ'd at it: "My Philypſus, (ſays he) I'm glad to ſee you engag'd thus in the Odyſſey: What new light ſhall we have into the excellencies of this writer? Have not you been collecting other Beauties out of the Tranſlation?—I have met with ſeveral other, reply'd Philypſus: So many indeed, that it wou'd be almoſt endleſs to collect them. But to tell you the Truth, [105] my buſineſs was quite contrary to what you imagine: I was upon a more difficult task; I was endeavouring to try what Faults I cou'd diſcover in it. That is by much the more difficult, ſays Antiphaus: The few Faults of that Piece are ſcarce diſcernible among ſuch a ſuperiour number of Beauties: How ſeldom do we perceive the diſagreeableneſs of a ſingle feature, in a Face that is very taking in the whole? Well; but have you been able to overcome this Difficulty? can you diſcover any thing farther of this kind in the Odyſſey? Very little, anſwer'd Philypſus: There is but one point yet, that has afforded me any number of Inſtances; And that is a Fault, directly oppoſite to what you particularly inſiſted upon, in our firſt Converſation on this Subject.

It was then, you know, that we conſider'd ſeveral Points in which Mr. Pope appears to Elevate and Flouriſh too much: Have you never obſerved, on the contrary, that there are a few Lowneſſes in his Writings; and that he ſometimes ſinks into a Diction, which borders on the Mean and Vulgar? I have, reply'd Antiphaus, in ſome few lines: but if you have made any remarks of that kind, I beg rather to ſee thoſe of your obſervation.

[106] The two Friends were always ready to comply with the deſires of each other [...] Philypſus, as uſual, without prefacing or debating the matter, immediately ſhew'd him the following Lines.

a A Gallant leader and—a man I lov'd.
b The old man early roſe, walk'd forth, and ſate
On poliſh'd ſtone before his palace gate.
c Or has Hell's Queen an empty image ſent,
That wretched I might even my joys lament.
d Struck at the word my very heart was dead.
e Euryclea, who great Ops thy lineage ſhar'd,
And watch'd all Night, all Day: a faithful guard.
f They led me to a good Man and a wi [...]e.
g And ſure he will, for wiſdom never lies.

In the note upon this line (ſays Philypſus) we have a couplet repeated from the Iliad, which I fear is of the ſame ſtamp.

h Who dares think one thing and another [...]ell,
My ſoul deteſts him as the gates of Hell.

I muſt confeſs, ſays Antiphaus, that the Lines you have repeated, carry a mean ai [...] [107] with them; but poſſibly what looks like a fault, may really be a beauty in ſome of them.

Some ſubjects require a ſimplicity of ſtile: Beſide Mr. Pope is to follow Homer; and ſhou'd Homer uſe an humble ſtile in theſe places, even to appearance improperly, yet one ſhould be apt to look upon it, as a ſufficient juſtification of his tranſlator.

For my part (reply'd Philypſus) I have always thought, that there is a wide difference between an humble and a mean ſtile; but (not to urge any thing of that kind) in the greater part of the inſtances juſt repeated, I am certain, there is not a ſufficient likeneſs between the manner of the Original and the Tranſlation.

I ſhall only except the two laſt, which [...]re indeed plain and proverbial in the [...]reek. There is a ſimplicity, as Mr. P [...]pe tells us in his notes, a noble ſimpli [...]ity in the diction; and which, in my [...]pinion, is not Equally kept up in the Engliſh: but thoſe I ſhall not inſiſt upon.

As for the reſt, that mean cloſe of the [...]rſt of theſe Lines, is in Homer an a Handſome ſentiment, deliver'd in a ſounding [108] verſe: and the meaneſt Expreſſion in the ſecond, a is poetical in the Original. The ſame will hold, in ſome degree, of the other Lines. As it happens Mr. Pope in his b Note upon one of them,

They led me to a good Man and a wi [...]e;

has given us this proſe tranſlation of the ſame words;

The Gods guided me to the habitation of a perſon of wiſdom:

Now it might be thought a rude queſtion, to ask whether is the more poetical, his proſe or verſe Tranſlation of this Line?

Indeed where Homer leads the way, the caſe is very different: I cannot ſay how far it might be juſtifiable, to blame a Tranſlator for following his Author: and it was for that very reaſon, that I ſhou'd not have taken any notice of the delightful Hiſtory of the Coat and Cloak, which is given us in one of the longeſt ſpeeches in the Fourteenth Odyſſey.

But we have ſeveral inſtances of additional Lowneſſes: I obſerv'd particularly that they were pretty frequent, when the Scene is in Ithaca: Thus;

[109]
His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay,
a And from the banquet take the bowls away.

Again;

But if, to honour loſt, 'tis ſtill decreed
b For you my bowl ſhall flow, my flocks ſhall bleed.

Again;

c Is this, returns the Prince, for mirth a time?
When lawleſs gluttons riot, mirth's a crime. &c.

The meanneſs here (interpos'd Antiphaus) is occaſion'd by a juſt deſign; that of writing in a ſtile, agreeable to the ſimplicity of the ſubject: In ſeveral other places, it has a leſs excuſable riſe; I mean, the labour and difficulty of Rhime. The Poet's being in haſte to get this drudgery off his Hands, ſometimes draws him into the uſe of Expreſſions, which are flat and contemptible. Thus I believe, we may account for the Lowneſſes in theſe Couplets:

While with my ſingle ſhip adventurous [...],
d Go forth the manners of yon Men to try.
Mean-while the Gods the dome of Vulcan throng;
e Apollo comes, and Neptune comes along.
—When great Alcides roſe [...]
f And Euritus, who bad the Gods be fo [...]

[110] You need only read over one ſingle paſſage, to gueſs how frequently the ſenſe may be leſſen'd and broke by this means; and how often we are put off with low, wretched words, merely for want of a more generous Rhime.

You remember the Speech of Ulyſſes, when ſhip-wrack'd in his voyage from Calypſo's Iſland; 'tis transfer'd, you know, by Virgil into his ſtorm; and both are very ſtrong, and animated. This is the paſſage which I beg lea [...]e to read to you from Mr. Pope:

Happy! thrice happy! who in battle ſlain
Preſt in Atrides' cauſe the Trojan plain:
Oh! had I dy'd before that w [...]ll-fought wall,
Had ſome diſtinguiſh'd day renown'd my fall;
(Such as was that, when ſhow'rs of j [...]v'lins—fl [...]d
From conquering Troy around Achill [...]s—d [...]ad)
All Greece had paid my ſolemn fun'rals—th [...]n,
And ſpread my glory with the ſons of men.
A ſhameful fate now hides my h [...]pl [...]ſs head,
Un-wept, un-noted, and—for ever dead.
A mighty wave, ruſh'd o'er him as he ſpoke,
The raft it cover'd, and the maſt it broke;
Sw [...]pt from the deck [...] and from the rudder torn,
Far on the ſwelling ſurge the chief was born:
While by the howling tempeſt rent in twain,
Flew ſail and ſail-yards ratling o'er the main.
Long preſs'd he heav'd beneath the weighty wav [...],
Clog'd by the cumbrous veſt Cal [...]pſo gave;
A [...] length emerging, from his noſtrils wide
And guſhing mouth, effus'd the briny tide. &c.

The meanneſs of this paſſage, in compariſon [111] either of the original Greek, or of Virgil's imitation of it (which the Engliſh Tranſlator, I doubt not, had in his eye) appears to be in a great meaſure owing to a poverty of Rhime. It has given a low turn to the whole paſſage; and that lowneſs is ſtill moſt evident in the terminating of the Lines.

There are a Thouſand other things (reſum'd Philypſus) which contribute to the meanneſs of ſtile; even a deſire to avoid it, will occaſion it: 'Tis not uncommonly ſeen that the ſtraining to elevate a point, will make it really the more mean and ridiculous: as nothing ſhews the littleneſs of a dwarf, more than ſtrut [...]ng.

One wou'd be apt to ſuſpect this to be the caſe in the following verſes:

194 There fi [...]s Sky-dy'd, a pu [...]ple hue diſcloſe—
There d [...]gling pears exalted ſcents unfold [...]
And y [...]llow apples ripen into gold.

And in theſe other:

195Lur'd with the vapour of the fragrant feaſt
[...] ruſh'd the ſuitors with vor [...]cious h [...]ſte

Sometimes one ſingle word will leſſen [112] the ſentiment, and break in upon the dignity of verſe. Thus where the Greek call's Memnon, The glorious Son of Aurora, we find it in the Tranſlation only a Swarthy Memnon. This, by ſinking below the Original: it may be as faulty, to ſtick too cloſe to it. b Hogherd and Cow [...]eeper, (ſays Mr. Pope in one of his Notes) are not to be uſed in our Poetry, tho' there are no finer words, than thoſe which anſwer them, in the Greek language: for the ſame reaſon I ſhou'd think that the uſe of the word c S [...]y, which occurs ſo often in the Tenth Book, might be varied; and in t [...]e Sixth,

d [...]

In general, what do you think e of Scudding before the gales to Pylos? of a f ſore Soul? and of g Sacrificing throngs? are not theſe Expreſſions to, low for verſe? and is it not too low and ruſtick even for proſe, to talk of the h ſwelling loins of a Goddeſs, or of a Nymph's i pacing along the Sand?

[113] Your Inſtances, reply'd Antiphaus, ſufficiently ſhew, that (beſide the inconvenience of Rhime) Mr. Pope does ſometimes, without that wrong Biaſs, deviate into a meanneſs of Expreſſion: They are directly contrary to his uſual Spirit. There is a caſe (ſays Philypſus) juſt come into my Head, which ought not to be forgot; we may ſee by it, on the other hand, how much this Gentleman can improve upon expreſſions in the Original, beyond the other tranſlators of Homer. That venerable old Poet uſes a phraſe which, tho' I do not believe it to have been mean in his times, does moſt certainly ſound ſo in the preſent: In ſpeaking of a Perſon entirely loſt in melancholly, he ſays that he was continually a eating up his own Mind: So great a Man, as Cicero, has endeavour'd to give this in b Latin; but with that uſual unhappineſs, which attended him in all his Poetry. In another part of Homer, we have the ſame manner of Expreſſion; and it is as meanly tranſlated by ſeveral Hands. The Paſſage is a part of Ju [...]iter's Speech to Juno; in which, to ſet out the violence of her hatred to Priam [114] and his family, the God ſays, that ſhe wou'd a eat them, or ſwallow them up quick. Actius Labeo, a wretched tho' a Court writer, tranſlated ſeveral Books of the Iliad into Latin; and if we may gueſs at the reſt, by the only Verſe left us of that Work (which, as it happens, anſwers this very Line) we have no great Reaſon to lament the loſs of it: This an old Scholiaſt has preſerv'd, for a taſte of the Performance:

Crudum manduces Priamum, Priamique piſinnos.

Labeo, as Mr. Pope obſerves in his Note upon the b place, is equal'd by Ogilby;

Both King and People thou woudſt eat alive:

As is Ogilby by Hobbs;

And eat up Priam and his people all.

Such a general meanneſs in giving us this Expreſſion of the Greek Poet, muſt make us look upon Mr. Pope with the greater regard, if he can keep it from ſinking in Engliſh: This he has not only done, but gives it to us in an handſome poetical turn:

Let Priam bleed! if yet thou thirſt for more,
b Bleed all his ſons, and Ilion float with gore!

[115] This expreſſes the full ſentiment; and that, with an air of greatneſs, and majeſty in it: 'Tis now Language not unfit to be put into the mouth of Jupiter.

Antiphaus was extremely pleas'd to ſee ſo great a change in Philypſus; and that (ſuddain as it was) it had not affected him in the uſual manner. As Men generally run from one extreme to the other, he was afraid, that the making him ſenſible of the Faults of the Tranſlator, might give him ſome diſtaſte to his beauties: but as he found he was fall'n into the Indifferent juſt manner of Reading, he thought he might now ſafely go on with him farther in the ſame way. "The defect (ſays he) which you have prov'd in ſome particulars on Mr. Pope, is ſufficiently recompenc'd by his Flame and Spirit, and the general beauty of his diction: 'Tis from this Quarter that I am ſtill the moſt apprehenſive of Faults, in that Gentleman's compoſitions. Surely, ſays Philypſus, you have nothing more to produce on that head? Yes (reply'd Antiphaus) I have a word or two to add, to what we obſerv'd upon it, the other Night. There are a ſort of Verſes, very frequent in our modern writers, which run very ſmoothly off the Tongue; the ſtream is eaſy, but there is neither depth nor [116] clearneſs in it: The truth of it is, they are undiſturb'd with Meaning; And their calmneſs is as the calmneſs of the Night, which is dark withal. If I might have leave, I ſhould call ſuch verſes as theſe, Un-ideal Verſes; and I fear there are ſome few of them to be met with in the Odyſſey.

Pray obſerve what an unthinking harmony there is in this couplet, which comes firſt into my Head;

a Soft he reclines along the murm'ring Seas,
Inhaling freſhneſs from the fanning breeze.

And what a Panegyrick in this?

—Every Eye
b Gaz'd as before ſome brother of the sky.

I will read you but a few more:

c The Royal Palace to the Queen convey.

And

d—Plan with all thy arts the ſcene of fate [...]
e Of deathful arts expert, his Lord employs
The miniſters of blood in dark ſurpriſe.

But among all of them, upon comparing the Original and the Tranſlation, this ſeems to be the non-pareil:

[117]
a Then warp my voyage on the Southern gales
O'er the warm Lybian wave to ſpread my ſails.

Mr. Pope has had a Critique on ſome Lines of his Iliad, which is chiefly taken up in diſcovering, or making Falſe Engliſh of them: If this can neither darken the Line, nor affect the Senſe conſiderably, it ſeems to me not to be of any concern in Compariſon of the former fineſſes. The antient Criticks were much kinder on this head: and 'tis hence that we owe many of our Figures in Rhetorick, to Peccadillo's againſt Grammar. I am the moſt unfit in the World to determine in this Caſe, becauſe I have alway found my ſelf [...] aver [...]e to t [...]e Grammatical [...]ort of Criticiſm, as I am fond of the Poetical: but I am apt to think, that there are not many faults of this kind juſtly chargeable on the Odyſſey. Of the few which I have by chance obſerv'd, the chief are to be met with in the cloſe of his verſes; Thus it occurrs, if I remember right, twice or thrice in that ſhort paſſage, which I re [...]eated to you the other Evening, on the Transformation of Ulyſſes. This Rhime Philypſus, is a terrible Thing: it has [...]poil'd more Lines—Good Antiphaus [118] (cry'd Philypſus haſtily) be not ſo inveterate againſt Rhime: does not it ſoften and beautify verſe? and turn poetry into a ſort of muſick, to a good Ear?—I am not Univerſally an Enemy to Rhime, you know; (return'd Antiphaus) It does very well in Odes and Sonnets to Armida: But for any thing very ſolid or pathetick, ſurely 'tis an Ornament too comtemptible, as well as too much abus'd. The firſt Piece of Latin Rhime I know of, that famous Stanza of Adrian, does well enough; 'twas ſpoke out of pure Gaiety and good Humour: but to introduce it gravely into poetry, as it was the effect of a miſerable de [...]rav'd taſte [...] ſo will the productions of thoſe Ages ſhew how happily it ſucceeded. The Runick Lays (anſwer'd Philypſus) I do not pretend to admire: but ſurely you will allow it to hav [...] ſucceeded better in our Language, than it did in the hands of that monkiſh Cla [...] of Poets. 'Tis true (ſays Antiphaus ſmiling) we have not improv'd it yet int [...] middle Rhimes, and ſome other of their excellencies. Perhaps it wou'd have bee [...] happy too for our Poetry, if we had confin'd this Muſick, as you call it, to it [...] proper ſubjects. How wretchedly doe [...] it ſound in ſome of our Tragedies? i [...] ſuch, all the Actors to me ſeem rathe [...] [119] to be playing at Crambo with one another, than endeavouring in the leaſt to affect the Audience. With all the violence that Mr. Dryden wrote in this cauſe, you [...]ee he was forc'd to recant at laſt; The [...]only true reaſon of his perſiſting in it at [...]ll is, I believe, very obvious, tho' the [...]aſ [...] he wou'd have given us: It was then [...]he Humour of the Age; Dryden, every [...]ne knows, wrote for Money; and his [...]uſineſs was to pleaſe his Cuſtomers.

And now I have mentioned Mr. Dryden, [...] may be worth the enquiry, to conſider [...] little more particularly, what that [...]riter has ſaid on this ſubject; as he muſt [...] allow'd, on all hands, to have been [...]e of the niceſt Judges of Harmony, one [...] the greateſt Maſters of Verſification, [...]d one of the beſt Poetical Criticks in [...]neral, that our Nation has ever pro [...]ced.

In reading what he has given us, in [...]fferent places, on this head, 'tis eaſy [...] [...]ee, that he very much obſerves a [...]erence between Rhime, in the genuine [...]e of the word, by which he always [...]ends the true Harmony of Verſe; [...] Rhime, in the loweſt ſenſe; or that [...]gle, and playing with ſounds, in which [...] Moderns have exceeded all the other [...] of the World; and which indeed, [120] ſince the laſt revival of Letters, has bad fair for the Univerſal Monarchy in Poetry.

Tho' Dryden underſtood Rhime in the firſt ſenſe, as well as moſt Writers, and yet generally ſtoop'd to the uſe of it in the other: Nevertheleſs I am inclined to believe, that he always ſaw thorough the Defects and Inconveniencies, not to ſay the Barbarity and Childiſhneſs, of it. Indeed one might be juſtified in ſaying even this; for Dryden himſelf follows Voſſius in calling it expreſly, a A Childiſh ſort of verſe; and ſays that ſome Rhiming Hexameters, which may be diſcover'd in Homer, were probably the remains of a Barbarous Age: Virgil (add [...] that writer) had them in ſuch abhorrence, that he would rather make [...] falſe Syntax, that what we call a Rhime—The nicer Ears in Auguſtus his Cour [...] cou'd not pardon him for a Line, i [...] which he had only dropt ſomething like it: ſo that the principal Ornament of Modern Poetry, was accounted deformity, by the Latins, and Gree [...]

After obſerving that the Greek tongu [...] falls naturally into Iambicks, and th [...] Latin into Heroick verſe, he calls all o [...] little arts of Rhiming, Barbarities: An [...] [121] adds, that ‘As Age brings Men back i [...]to the ſtate and infirmities of Childhood; upon the fall of their Empire, the Romans doted into Rhime.

What you have now read to me (interpos'd Philypſus) ſhews ſufficiently, that Mr. Dryden cou'd give up an old Friend, and abuſe him heartily behind his back; That writer cou'd ſpeak the ſevereſt things of Rhime, when he was got into a vein of Proſe-writing: But the preſent ill treatment he gives to it, may perhaps be on ſome particular Occaſion; and in ſome Caſes, I cannot deny that Rhime may be a very improper Ornament.

No (return'd Antiphaus) he is here ſpeaking of Rhime in general, and on a general occaſion: If you wou'd know his ſentiments of Rhime, more particularly in relation to the preſent purpoſe, and its uſe in tranſlating an Heroick Po [...]m; as it happens, there is a remarkable [...]aſſage, wrote by him on this very occaſion: it was in his more advanc'd Judgment; and particularly, as he himſelf informs us, when he was in his great Climaterick. He is ſpeaking of Han [...]al Caro's Tranſlation of the Aeneid: ‘The performance, a ſays he, is very [122] mean, tho' that Poet took the advantage of writing in Blank-verſe, and freed himſelf from the ſhackles of Modern Rhime. I will not make a digreſſion here (proceeds that Writer) tho' I am ſtrangely tempted to it; but will only ſay, that he who can write well in Rhime, may write better in Blank-verſe. Rhime is certainly a conſtraint even to the beſt Poets, and thoſe who make it with moſt eaſe:—What it adds to Sweetneſs, it takes away from ſenſe; and he who loſes the leaſt by it, may be call'd a Gainer. It often makes us ſwerve from an Author's meaning: as if a mark be ſet up for an Archer at a great diſtance, let him aim as exactly as he can, the leaſt Wind will take his Arrow, and divert it from the White.’

Thus far Mr. Dryden. And his opinion weighs the more with me in this caſe; becauſe, if any thing, we might expect that he ſhou'd be prejudiced in favour of Rhime, but the reaſon of the thing, You ſee, prevailed over all other conſiderations: He goes ſofar as to condemn his own manner of Writing, rather than ſuffer ſuch a corruption to paſs without a ſevere Cenſure; and to that end, very generouſly gives up his Practice, to his Judgment.

[123] Indeed I know of but one argument (and that the meereſt Circle in the World) to ſupport the preſent practiſe of writing in rhime; we muſt uſe it, becauſe 'tis all the faſhion. We who were never ſo far infected, can laugh heartily at ſome of the French, for rhiming thoroughout their Comedies; yet Rhime in Tragedy was very becoming among us, in an Age, not the leaſt knowing and polite. Diſuſe has made us ſee the flatneſs and inconvenience of that Ornament; and nothing reads more inſipid, than the beſt Pieces left us in that way. Tell me Philypſus; why do we ſo much diſlike thoſe Beauties of their kind in our Age?

I believe, ſays Philypſus, 'tis as you obſerve. Now the taſte is alter'd, and the ſaſhion worn off; we can look back, [...]nd perceive with eaſe the prejudice of that beauty; where the End is to ſtir up the Soul, by true repreſentations of Nature: To raiſe a Terror or Compaſ [...]n, is the buſineſs of the tragick Poet; and [...]o endeavour to raiſe either with Rhime [124] and all its Harmony, ſeems to me more proper for an Italian Opera, than an Engliſh Tragedy.

Very true, ſays Antiphaus; and do [...]ou not judge it as abſurd, where any other Paſſions are to be mov'd, as well as Terror and Compaſſion?—Undoubtedly, reply'd Philypſus.—And is it not the buſineſs of the Epick, to awake the S [...]ul? to raiſe in it an eſteem for Vir [...]ue, and an hatred to Vice? in a Word, to move the Paſſions, particularly thoſe very Paſſions you have mention'd? Why then is Rhime, which you diſallow in Trag [...]dy, to be thought uſeful and com [...]dable in the Epick?—As for mo [...]ng the Paſſions (ſays Philypſus) Rhime, I [...]llow y [...]u, is of no uſe in either; bu [...] it is a fine Ornament, which may b [...] more proper in the one, than in the other: In Dramatick Pieces the Perſons ſhould be ſuppos'd to ſpeak extempore but there can be no ſuch thing conceiv'd in an Epick Poem—I beg your Pardon (ſays Antiphaus) Tho' not ſo ſtrongly [...] yet this is o [...]ten ſuppos'd in an Epick [...] as well as in Tragedy: Do you thin [...] that Homer is telling you a ſtory, o [...] Ul [...]ſſes, when we are got into Phaaci [...] In the 2d Aeneid, have you not ſever [...] intermediate Ideas, which agree not wit [...] [125] a Reader, but a Spectator?—Yes, Sir; in all active Poems, as well as Tragedy, The Author is to diſappear, as much as poſſible: the greateſt Art of them is to deceive us into an imagination, that we hear the very Perſons ſpeaking, and ſee them acting before us. In ipſis Omnia [...]unt oculis. Every Poem the nearer it comes to this, the more perfect it is. Conſider too, how much of any good Epick piece is purely Dramatick: 'tis [...]carce to be imagin'd, for Inſtance, how [...]mall a number of Lines in the Aeneid are properly Virgil's: they almoſt all belong to the Perſons engag'd in the Poem; and where the Lines are ſpoke, we ſee the attitudes and behaviour of the particular Perſons, and receive the words from their Mouth.

Much of what you urge is true; (anſwer'd Philypſus:) but yet you muſt allow, that Rhime ſounds unnatural in Tragedy, and agreeable in pieces of the other kind. That is, as we were juſt [...]aying, (reply'd Antiphaus) becauſe in theſe 'tis at preſent all the Mode: let the faſhion alter, and this beauty will [...]ook as falſe in one, as it has already in [...]he other. This Italian Taſte of your Taſſo's and Arioſto's led away the firſt Poet of our Nation, who attempted any [126] thing toward an Epick; and probably we ſhou'd to this Day have thought it the only proper for our Language, had it not happily been diſdain'd by the great Genius of Milton, who choſe rather to follow the true old Roman manner. It was Milton who flung off our Fetters; and we may venture to ſay in the prophetical manner of a very good Poet now living, that a He ſhall for ever be honour'd as our deliverer from that bondage. What a pity it is, he did not ſuffer us ſtill to continue in it, ſince we are ſo fond of our Chains? How happy wou'd it have been, to have given up the Nervouſneſs and Majeſty of his Poem, for Pryor's Eaſe, or the Sweetneſs of Waller? I know not what they world may ſay to it; but, for my part, when I read in the Biſhop of Sarum's Hiſtory That Paradiſe Loſt is a noble Piece b tho the Author affected to write it in blank verſe it always puts me in mind of the Gentleman, in the monkiſh Ages of Poetry who ſaid of Virgil's Aeneid, that it wa [...] really a very good Poem; and wanted nothing, but the (c) Sweets of Rhime, to mak [...] [127] it, the moſt perfect Work in its kind.

Well, (ſays Philypſus) I own, there is the greater majeſty in Blank verſe; but you will own too, that the other is the more beautiful. Yes, (reply'd Antiphaus) but for that very reaſon is Blank-verſe undoubtedly the more proper for the Epick; as that is the moſt majeſtick kind of Poetry imaginable. And even as to the Sound, Thoſe muſical returns (if allow'd to be true Beauties) are more than ballanc'd by the Dead Manner, introduc'd with them into Poetry; What I mean, is that perpetual likeneſs in the cadence, and turn of the Periods: How frequently do they fall in ſeveral repeated Couplets, without any variety, or relief to the Ear? You will ſometimes meet with a Rhime-Poem, all the Lines of which run off entirely with the ſame pauſes; the ſtream always equal, and ſo level that you can ſcarce perceive it to move: What do you think of each Couplet, chiming on in the ſame ſtops and meaſure, with the moſt tedious uniformity of ſound imaginable?—That is the fault of the Poet, not of the uſe of Rhime, ſays Philypſus: I could name you [...] Poem of this kind, which has almoſt [...]s great a variety in the Periods, as any Piece in Blank-verſe. Poſſibly you mean [128] a piece with Mr. Oldiſworth's Name to it, (ſays Antiphaus) which I have heard you commend particularly on that ſcore. 'Tis true our Poets of late have endeavour'd to diverſify the ſound, as much as poſſible: We ſee great improvements of this kind, in the excellent Tranſlator of Vida's Poeticks; and ſeveral in the moſt nervous and vigorous of all our Tranſlators, both in his Manilius and Lucretius: Mr. Pope ſeems to have thought of this much more frequently in his Odyſſey, than in the former Tranſlation of the Iliad; and gives us an admirable a Obſervation upon it, toward the concluſion of his laſt work. But after all, let our Poets manage the cadence and ſtructure in Rhime-verſe never ſo artfully, it will fall vaſtly ſhort of Blank in theſe particulars; Indeed Rhime is a natural Enemy to them: it breaks and diſturbs both the ſtructure, and the cadence. The very ſound of any periods the beſt contriv'd will convince one o [...] this: when a perſon of a good Ear is reading them, you may obſerve, that he endeavours to drop the Rhime, and loſe the gingle of it, as much as poſſible: and [129] when the ſound of it is not ſufficiently kept under; you will find, that it ſpoils the continuance, and occaſions too great a break in the period.

You may ſee by what I have been ſaying, that this charge is not deſign'd againſt ſingle Couplets; The corruption in this reſpect evidently ceaſes, where there are no periods to be varied. To determine preciſely where it will grow prejudicial, wou'd be difficult, and is not very material: Tho' I know not but what it might be uneaſy to a very nice Ear, to have only four Lines together with regular Rhime: and poſſibly on this very account, the Stanza but of two Couplets has generally unequal Rhimes, (the Second Line anſwering the Fourth) and that of Three, varies in the laſt Couplet. However forc'd or delicate this obſervation may be thought, one thing I cou'd aſſert with ſome degree of Confidence: I dare ſay, any one of a good Ear, who reads only ten Lines of the beſt Rhime-Verſification, and an equal number of Milton's true harmonious Verſes, upon this view; will find a nobler ſound, and that variety (which is neceſſary to the beauty of periods, and to the pleaſure of a Reader) much ſtronger and much [...]uller in the latter.

[130] What has been ſaid of Couplets, may in a great Meaſure be ſaid of Odes, which conſiſt of proper Stanzas: As theſe come next to Couplets for ſhortneſs, they have ſcarce room, ſingly, for the tedious Uniformity, we have been complaining of: and unleſs the Ode be long, they do not produce it by their Number. There may be a variety too of ſingular uſe in this ſort of Poetry, where a perſon can run theſe Stanzas artfully into one another; if the interweaving of them be not ſo frequen [...] and equal, as to bring in that very Satiety we wou'd avoid. Thus qualified Rhime is, at leaſt, very tolerable in Odes: And even in Pindaricks, the moſt extenſive and lofty of any, the prejudice of it is not ſo preſſing; There is ſo great a Liberty (I mean, in our modern Pindaricks) of varying the Numbers, and of fixing or deferring the Rhime at pleaſure. But above all, in ſingle Couplets, Rhime is moſt allowable; and in them indeed, I ſhould think, it deſerves the preference to Blank-verſe: it may pleaſe the Ear more, and cannot do that miſchief, for which it is chiefly to be avoided in all large Pieces, and all compoſitions of a nobler ſort. In this reſpect, i [...] is with Poetry, as it is in Building: A Pile compos'd of Stones, cut juſt alike [131] all equal and uniform; and diſposed alike, without any thing either great or beautiful in the whole; will yield to one of a good deſign, form'd of materials various and unequal, and perhaps ruder, or leſs exactly poliſh'd: At the ſame [...]ime, the particulars of which it is made [...]aken ſingly, will evidently exceed the [...]thers. Thus we find, in a walk of Trees, [...]hat the two Oppoſites, when cut to [...]nſwer each other, look better, than if [...]hey were in diſagreeing Figures; but a Wood, or a Garden full of Trees, all [...] one Figure, wou'd be rather diſplea [...]ng to the Eye than otherwiſe: In the [...]o ſimilar Figures, we ſhould have a [...]eaſing Uniformity; but in this large [...]peated view of the ſame thing, we [...]ou'd loſe that Variety, which a late [...]ry ingenious Writer has ſhewn to be [...]eparable from the Idea of Beauty; and [...]hich the mind ſeems to require the [...]re, as the number of Objects is en [...]eas'd.

It is a known Rule in verſification, [...]t the Second Rhime ought not to re [...]ble the ſound of thoſe in a preceding [...]uplet. When it is carried to the far [...]ſt, it will not bear beyond the Third [...]e; and even that is run generally in [...]an Alexandrine, that in ſome degree [132] the turn of the Period and the Numbers may be varied. Now why ſhou'd it not be as diſagreeable to have a perpetual uniformity of Periods, as a continued likeneſs of Rhime? The latter no Man in the World will allow to be proper: nay, it cou'd not be born with, only for three Couplets together.

But ſuppoſing Rhime a real beauty in Poems of an higher kind, which I am perſwaded it is not; (to ſpeak nothing of its uniform returns, and the havock which it makes in the Periods; nor even of the diverſion it gives the thoughts of the Reader, and its general diſſervice to pieces that ſhou'd be ſolid and pathetick: to omit all this) the ſingle reaſon which introduc'd this queſtion is, as I take it, ſufficient to determine it. If Rhime is exceedingly apt to miſlead a Writer, often to cramp, and ſometimes to ſpoil his ſentiments; its benefits, as being only benefits of Sound, will be far from ballancing thoſe inconveniences of ſo much ſuperiour a nature. This at leaſt is the Caſe with Rhime: it gives either an impertinent pleaſure, or an unneceſſary trouble to a writer; and at the ſame time, that it diſtracts his attention [...] it encreaſes his difficulties: in a word [...] 'tis a falſe bent put upon the thoughts [133] of the Poet; and, in the beſt, proves frequently a counter-biaſs too ſtrong for their good Senſe.

I own, it is with a ſtrange readineſs, that people fall generally into this taſte; it has almoſt univerſal conſent on its ſide: and the few Aſſerters of the Liberty of Verſe meet with little Praiſe, or even Countenance, from the World. How many Perſons would fly into unreaſonable Heats upon hearing half that I have ſaid to you? I ſhould beg the favour of any ſuch Perſon, who wou'd pleaſe to be diſobliged in it, to ask himſelf what argument there is for this practiſe, which has ſo generally obtain'd in the modern World: If he can find none, 'tis eaſy to bring the matter more home, and to ask farther, whether he thinks Rhime wou'd be proper in the Odyſſey or Aeneid; and then, what ſingle reaſon can be aſſigned, why it ſhould be improper in a Latin or Greek, and not ſo in an Engliſh Epick.—Yes, Philypſus, I am perſwaded it is nothing but uſe, which makes it ſupportable at preſent; and whenever the world recovers it ſelf from this agreeable Stupor, it will then appear as ridiculous to the Reader, as it has been inconvenient to the Poet. This I really imagine, that in fu [...]ure, and perhaps far diſtant Ages, the [134] Criticks, when they look back on any the beſt Poem of this ſort, (which may be deliver'd down to them from their Anceſtors) will be at a loſs to give any account of their Manner of Writing. When they read Mr. Pope's Iliad or Odyſſey, they will often applaud the greatneſs of his thoughts; and often admire the happineſs of his diction, as far as the preſent Language ſhall be preſerv'd to them. They will honour his remains, and when they look toward his Aſhes with veneration, ‘There (will they ſay) lies the Great Man, who in ancient Days, is ſaid to have ſhewn the nobleſt Genius to Poetry in the World: what beauties do we diſcover in him, thro' all this ruſt of time, and ſo much obſolete language? He is every way to be commended as far as any of our ancient Poets are; Only he fell into the common fault of thoſe Ages; and always ſhews that trifling labour of making the laſt ſyllable of every alternate line, ſound like the cloſe of th [...] foregoing: Bating this inſignifican [...] taſ [...]e of thoſe times, how much is he to be praiſed, and how much to be admired?’

[135] It wou'd have been much better, and much more for their honour, for Mr. Dryden in his time, or Mr. Pope in ours, to have broke thorough this tedious Slavery; and to have [...]reed the World from a taſte ſo irrational, and barbarous.—I own it to you; I have ſomething of an Impatience in me to ſee this great Reformation in Poetry ſet on foot: I wiſh it cou'd be brought about in our Time: and if not, almoſt envy thoſe, who in future Ages ſhall be ſo happy, as to ſee Men awake from this Lethargy of Verſe: when all the Poets ſhall conſpire to reſtore ſtrength to their Sentiments, and nerves and variety to their Numbers: when the Writers ſhall throw aſide all thoſe idle Arts and Tricks, which we now play with Sounds; and true Harmony ſhall flouriſh, without incroaching upon true Senſe.

a O might I live to hail the glorious day,
And ſing loud Pae [...]s thro' the crowded way,
When in triumphant ſtate the B [...]itiſh Muſe,
True to herſelf, ſhall barbarous aid refuſe;
And in the Roman Majeſty appear,
Which none know better, and none come ſo near!

[136] Philypſus began to be moved by what his friend had urg'd on this head: I confeſs (ſays he) You are a powerful adverſary to Rhime; but you muſt allow one ſome time to get a thorough diſlike of a thing, which has once been ſo agreeable. There are ſome allowances too to be made in the preſent caſe; I believe, no man is leſs embaraſs'd by the uſe of Rhime, than Mr. Pope; and his command in Writing will take off much of your objection at preſent: tho' I own y [...]ur reaſoning againſt this Faſhion in general, to be very ſtrong and forcible. However, this Writer has a peculia [...] happineſs in it, and his Language flows with the greateſt eaſe in the World: I believe you can ſcarce inſtance a verſe in the whole Work, which does not ru [...] off ſmooth and handſomely. 'Tis tru [...] (ſays Antiphaus) there are very few in i [...] that are harſh, or any way faulty, eithe [...] in Sound, or Compoſition: two or thre [...] which I remember of that kind are ſcar [...] worth repeating—Yes (interrupted P [...]lypſus) if you have obſerv'd any ſuch, l [...] us have them. What do you think [...] this? ſays Antiphaus:

a And to the deaf Woods wailing breaths [...] woe

[137] Or of theſe;

a Rich Tapeſtry, ſtiff with in woven gold.
b By what ſtrange fraud Egyſthus wrought, relate,
(By force he cou'd not) ſuch an hero's fate.
No bird of air, no dove of ſwifteſt wing
Shuns the dire rocks: in vain ſhe cuts the skies,
c The dire rocks meet, and cruſh her as ſhe flies;
d I climb'd a cliff—
To learn if ought of mortal works appear,
Or chearful voice of mortal ſtrike the ear.
e Deem not un juſtly by my doom oppreſt, &c.

Theſe Lines are ſomewhat faulty in the ſound, or poſture of the words: but I only mention them; it wou'd be frivolous to make particular remarks on them: You may ſee, Philypſus, that my ſtock is quite out when I ſink ſo low: my task this Evening was difficult enough to me; and indeed 'tis not eaſy for any one to find many faults in a Piece, which comes from ſuch excellent hands. Have you nothing farther to obſerve on it? (ſays Philypſus) I think I have heard you ſpeak formerly of ſome Contradictions—That particular I had forgot, lays Antiphaus; there are indeed ſome ſeeming Contrarieties in this work: theſe are of two ſorts; one, in which the [138] Tranſlator is contrary to his Original: and the other, when the Tranſlation ſeems to have ſome little Circumſtances in it contradictory to one another.

Since you mention the thing, I believe I can recollect a paſſage or two, in which the ſenſe is preſs'd ſo far, or ſo much altered from what it was, that they ſeem directly oppoſite to the Original. When the Grecian Commanders were drawn into Troy, in the famous Wooden Horſe; the Enemy upon ſuſpicion of the deſign, us'd an artifice to make them cry out by ſurprize, if there were really any perſons conceal'd in it. Homer tells us, that all of them ſat very ſilent: only Anticlus, one of the Officers, was juſt ready to anſwer; when Ulyſſe [...], who ſat by him, ſtopt his mouth by force [...] prevented his making any noiſe, and ſ [...] preſerv'd all their Lives. Inſtead o [...] which the Tranſlation ſays, that thi [...] Anticlus,

a—Unable to controul,
Spoke loud the languiſh of his yerning ſoul.

In another place, where in Homer w hear of an Hero, falling in the defence o [139] his Country, under the Walls of his native City; Mr. Pope, in drawing out the Circumſtances of it, ſpeaks as if it was a on a foreign ſhore. In the Second Book, we meet with three or four particulars of this kind.—There Telemachus deſires the ſuitors (as it is in Homer) to leave him, and be quiet; as in Mr. Pope, to b riſe in his aid.—There the ſame Prince is ſaid to draw his hand gently out of that of Antinous; inſtead of which the Tranſlation, I think, tells us that he frown'd; caught away his hand c ſternly; and ſtrode away in a paſſion. 'Tis the ſame Caſe with Mentor in the Council: he roſe to make a ſpeech to them, with (as the Greek ſignifies) a wiſe or friendly air; but in the Engliſh,

d Stern as he roſe he caſt his Eyes around
That flaſh'd with rage; and as he ſpoke, he frown'd.

Theſe look like contrarieties between Homer, and his Tranſlator; there ſeem to be a few others, between paſſages in the Tranſlation it ſelf.

[140] There is a part of Mercury's ſpeech in the Fifth Odyſſey, and another point in the deſcription of Lachaea, an uninhabited Iſland, which (I remember) I mention'd to you formerly, as Examples of this Inconſiſtency. Such indeed they appear'd to me, even after a ſecond and third Reading: but upon conſulting the Original, I at laſt found them to be capable of a conſiſtent Meaning. However it is to be wiſh'd, that the Tranſlator had ſet them in a clearer light: for in one, the reader will be apt to imagine, that the Poet ſpeaks of a Inhabitants in a deſart Country; and in the other, that Mercury is ſaid to have been b vaſtly delighted with the ſight of Calypſo's Iſland, and not t [...] have been delighted at all with the ſight of it.

In another place (I take it to be in the very firſt Book of the Odyſſey) Telemachus ſays, that his Father is c Dead, and that he is wandering from Country to Country, at the ſame article of time: Thus too we hear the Sea, call'd the d foaming Flood, in one Line; and in the very next, 'tis the Level ſurface of the deep.

[141] As for meer Miſtakes (where a Verſe carries ſomething of Blunder in the ſound of it) I have taken but little notice of them; and ſhall only mention two or three, juſt to ſhew, that the greateſt Writers are capable of falling into ſuch Errors, as will be diſcernible to the meaneſt Readers.

a I anſwer'd, Goddeſs! human is thy breaſt—

—is a Line of this kind: and the Expreſſions in it will appear to every one that looks upon it, to be improperly put together, on the ſame account, as thoſe in the following Couplet:

b Some other motive, Goddeſ [...]! ſways thy mind,
Some cloſe deſign, or turn of Woman-kind.

There is a Verſe juſt come into my head, in which Mr. Pope may be thought to talk of c ſeeing a Sound; and in another we are told of a place ſo d deep, that you cou'd not ſhoot to the bottom of it.

I know not whether a ſevere Critick would not think that there is a jar between the Expreſſions, where Ulyſſes is ſaid, to be

—Doom'd to mourn,
[142] a Bitter Conſtraint, erroneous and forlorn.

And where Halitherſes ſpeaks of b Deeds then undone.’ but theſe, and ſuch like trifles, I ſhall leave to thoſe, who are fond of finding faults; and whom I can own without envy to have a greater Niceneſs, and Curioſity in Verbal Criticiſm, than ever I deſire to have.

Theſe, tho' leſs conſiderable blemiſhes in a poetical Character, are much more obvious to every Eye, than the greater defects of a Poem: and will be always obſerv'd upon, with more ſcorn and contempt, than any other: they border on Ridicule; and that is a thing, which will ever be agreeable to little Minds. That Verſe of Sir Richard Blackmore's, in which he deſcribes c the Veſt of a naked Pict; and that in one of Mr. Dryden's Tragedies, which ſpeaks of d Silence invading the Ear, has probably been repeated many times more, than the beſt Line he ever wrote. This is low enough [143] o' conſcience, tho' it has been a very faſhionable way of Criticiſing of late Years: it ſhews how ill-natur'd the World is; but people will have their Laugh: and 'tis vaſtly eaſier to Ridicule, than to Admire.

It is this ſort of Men, Philypſus, and a clan of others, equally malicious and more gloomy than the former, who have brought the name of Critick into ſuch contempt among us: While thoſe have imagined, that Sneering and Malice are the beſt titles to Wit; and theſe were of opinion, That to find fault is to Criti [...]iſe. How different from this was the [...]ethod of the Antient Criticks of Greece [...]nd Rome? Indeed Criticiſm, as firſt in [...]tuted by Ariſtotle, was deſign'd for a [...]andard of judging well; to give an in [...]ght into the Excellencies of Authors, [...]nd to diſcern their Faults. There was [...] time, when it was a ſtudy highly ra [...]onal; far from borrowing its force from [...]idicule and Falſe Wit, it ſhou'd pro [...]ed upon known Rules and eſtabliſh'd [...]eaſures. I do not ſay but what the [...]st Criticks may have approved of par [...]ular Lines, without being capable of [...]gning the Reaſons why they pleas'd [...]m ſo greatly. You often ſee a Face [...]ch is very taking, without any regularity [144] of Features: ſuch an one as pleaſes every body, tho' no body can give the Reaſon of his being pleas'd with it. Eloquence has its Je ne ſcai quoi's, as well as Beauty. However moſt commonly we can ſpecify the particular features, which are ſo agreeable; or know that our pleaſure is founded on the Symmetry of the whole.

But it is not enough that Criticiſm is rational; it ſhou'd ever be Human and Good-natur'd. Where the Deſign is great, the Diſpoſition juſt, the Deſcriptions lively, and the Language generally good and poetical, that work is in general to be commended; tho' the Poet, in particular Points, may have fallen into many faults; nay into ſome, which look very groſs, when they are conſider'd ſingly. The greateſt Critick among th [...] Roman Poets lays it down for a Rule That where there are more Beauties tha [...] Faults in a Poem, that Piece is to be pronounced good: And one of the greate [...] Criticks among the Greek, carries it farther; He ſhews at large, a That ther [...] is often a negligence, that is becoming—That a greatneſs of Soul will carry [145] Man above the obſervation of little Circumſtances;—And That a Poet of a generous Spirit with faults, is greatly preferable to a low wary Writer without them.

Agreeable to this was the behaviour of theſe great Men in laying down rules, or making obſervations: their intention was to diſtinguiſh the beauties of Language or Sentiments, from the defects and vices of either. You find them to have been in Love with the Charms of Eloquence, and the true Spirit of Poetry, wherever they meet with them. They [...]ake not that ſnarling Satisfaction in finding faults, which many of their pretended Succeſſors are ſo full of in their writings. Indeed they very freely pointed out the miſtakes and vices of the greateſt Writers: but their chief deſign in this was, that ſuch of their remarks might [...]erve as Buoys to ſhew where former [...]entures had miſcarried, and to prevent [...]thers from running upon the ſame Shalows. This was the Spirit of the Anti [...]nt Criticks. Their Fate was according [...] their Merit: they ſtill remain among [...]s, and are read with pleaſure and ap [...]auſe: whilſt Zoilus, the only Modern [...]itick of the Antients, has left nothing [146] behind him, except the odious memor [...] of his Impotence and his Malice.

Our modern Zoilus's (interpos'd Philypſus) are very eaſily known. They ru [...] down the performances of the beſt writers with heat and noiſe: every thing is a fault with them. They will go regularly thorough a Poem, with a conſtant frown upon them; and think themſelves obliged to find miſtakes or nonſenſ [...] in every Line of it: they condemn b [...] Tale, and cenſure by the Sheet. Nothing is more probable, than that from th [...] Poem, they come to quarrel with th [...] Perſon of the Author. Blemiſhes in his moral Character, and even natural Imperfections, have a ſhare in their obſervations: and in a word, they labou [...] hard to convince you, that they are bad Chriſtians as well as bad Criticks. The beſt of it is, their attacks are as weak [...] as they are violent; they have but little of Courage, tho' they make ſo great a Noiſe with it: and are like a ſort o [...] Currs that bark moſt, and run the ſooneſt. The Character that was given o [...] the French, as Warriors, is true of theſe People, as Writers: They behave themſelves fiercer than Men, in the onſet [...] and in the ſhock, are feebler than Women.

[147] I think you cannot be too ſevere upon them, reſum'd Antiphaus: they are a Contradiction to true Criticiſm; as they always ſhew the greateſt malice againſt every thing, that deſerves the moſt to be commended. Mr. Pope has had the fate to be attack'd by theſe Animals: and indeed I do not ſee how he could avoid it. He has too many excellencies to let them ſleep in quiet.

'Tis certain that the faults of a Writer (and never was any Writer without faults) ought to be obſerved; and the more excellent an Author is, the more neceſſary is ſuch a Work. But this is the Drudgery of Criticiſm: the Pleaſure and the Profit are on the other ſide.

We ought to ſhew faults, but we ought [...]ever to ſhew malice. And beſide the [...]eneral good Nature which is owing to [...]ſe Great Men, who have eminently [...]blig'd the World by their Labours; [...]here are particular allowances to be [...]ade in this laſt work of the greateſt [...]oet of our Age. Nothing in the World [...]s more laborious, than Tranſlation; [...]d eſpecially when the Piece is engag'd [...]r, and muſt go on. 'Tis extremely [...]fficult to keep up the Spirit of Poetry [...]another's Compoſitions, tho' you catch [148] all the a apteſt Moments; and neve [...] employ the Mind, but when there is a [...] Impetus comes upon it toward that particular buſineſs: and this Difficulty i [...] greatly encreas'd, where a Man canno [...] well ſet down to it, only at ſuch time as his Muſe is in a good Humour; bu may be obliged, in a manner, to Writ [...] by the Hour, and upon fixt returns. know not how [...]ar this was the Caſe wit [...] Mr. Pope, in this performance: b [...] wherever it was, the Poet will be litt [...] more than a common Man: He is, a ſuch times, much the ſame as a Proph [...] without his Afflatus.

Beſide this, I muſt repeat, what I ha [...] ſa [...]d ſ [...] often: The conſtant returns [...] Rhim [...] unavoidably unnerve a P [...]em The Age is in Love with this Weakne [...] and Mr. Pope, in indulging their humo [...] has taken much from the ſtrength of h Genius: had he been leſs obliging to t [...] taſte of his Readers, his performan [...] might have been more ſinewy, and mo [...] compleat. This ought certainly to [...] taken into the account: and wherev [...] the Tranſlation falls ſhort of the for [...] and nervouſneſs of Homer, we ought co [...]ſtant [...] [149] to ask our ſelves this queſtion; Whether Homer himſelf cou'd have carried it farther, had he wrote (as Mr. Pope does) in Engliſh, and in Rhime?

'Tis true, all this may be ſaid of his Tranſlation of the Iliad; but if that Piece exceed this of the Odyſſey, it is very natural upon other Accounts that it ſhou'd do ſo. Homer exceeds himſelf in that Poem.—Great Actions ſtrike the Soul with rapidity; while all the things that relate to lower Life, are leſs vigo [...]ous and affecting:—The deſcription of Warriors and moral Precepts have a very different effect, on the writers them [...]elves; thoſe aſſiſt the Poetical flame, while theſe [...]ling the Mind into a more [...]edentary Poſture. 'Tis natural almoſt [...]or People to ſleep at Sermons: But a [...]attle rouzes and animates the Specta [...]ors, as well as thoſe who are engaged [...] it. Thus there muſt be leſs ſpirit in [...]he Writer, as well as leſs attentiveneſs [...]n the Reader of the Odyſſey: and a Tran [...]ation of it, even from one and the ſame [...]and, cou'd not fairly be expected to [...]qual a Tranſlation of the Iliad. The Rea [...]r and the Poet have both of them the diſ [...]dvantage of a cooler and more unactive [...]bject: A Poet (as Age always is) vaſtly [...]kative; A Fable laid infinitely lower; [150] and a Diction, almoſt perpetual in moral Sentences and Reflections, give a pattern very different from Homer, in all his vigour, deſcribing the Paſſion of Achilles; and ſounding out the Wars of the Greeks, with an air the moſt martial and animated, that can be imagined.

Here Antiphaus roſe up from his ſeat, and as Philypſus perceiv'd that he had finiſh'd; "I was unwilling to interrupt you (ſays he) otherwiſe I ſhou'd have obſerv'd on a verſe or two, which you repeated, as rough, and of a bad turn. What were thoſe Lines of the Roc [...]s, which you mention'd juſt now?—Of the Rocks? (ſays Antiphaus) let me ſee—Oh, I remember them;

No Bird of air, no Dove of ſwifteſt wing
Shuns the dire rocks: in vain ſhe cuts the skies,
The dire rocks meet and cruſh her as ſhe [...]lies.

The ſame ſays Philypſus: theſe and that other verſe,

Rich Tapeſtry, ſ [...]iff with inwoven gold,

[...]ound indeed rough; but to me their roughneſs, is their beauty: the turn o [...] them ſeems deſign'd; and their manner to be expreſſive of their ſenſe. If that be the Caſe, I beg pardon, ſays Antiphaus Were I the greateſt enemy in the World [151] to meer harmony, and the ſtated returns and gingle of ſyllables; I ſhou'd be one of the firſt among the admirers of Sound, whenever it is made ſerviceable to nature and true ſenſe. That is the Art (ſays Philypſus) and the Maſtery, for which I particularly admire Mr. Pope: It is he who took up that great Rule of the Sounds being a comment on the Senſe, and enfor [...]'d it beyond any of the Criticks who went before him. To this Writer we chiefly owe the revival of the nobler art of Numbers; and the method of ſignifying motions, and actions, and all that vaſt variety of our own paſſions by Sounds. In his incomparable Eſſay on Criticiſm, this Writer has given us the beſt Adviſes, and interwove the moſt beautiful Examples into them, in a manner that will always be admired. The firſt Stanza, in his Ode on St. Caecilia's Day, is the fulleſt Piece of this kind perhaps extant in any Language: 'tis it ſelf a perfect Conſort. In the Tranſlations of Homer we find him very frequent, and very juſt, in the ſame manner of Expreſſing things: I call it ſo; and cou'd almoſt be perſwaded to think it a better way of Expreſſing, than in the common way of Words. Theſe have a Senſe affixt to them by Cuſtom; while the other ſpeaks by the Ideas of things; [152] That is a flowing, variable help; this is the Voice of Nature, and a ſort of Univerſal Poetical Language.

Mr. Pope affords us infinite Examples of this Beauty in his Tranſlation of the Odyſſey; it wou'd be endleſs to repeat them all, or to admire them as they deſerve. But amidſt all this variety, there is a ſingle Point, which I have obſerv'd more than any of the reſt: Whenever the Poet is ſpeaking of the watry Element, or any thing belonging to it, his management of Sounds is particularly frequent and beautiful.

Tho' it might not be much obſerv'd at the firſt view, I know no place where a greater variety of things are expreſs'd this way, than in the Twelfth Odyſſey; 'Tis where Ulyſſes is giving an account of his ſetting ſail from the Iſland of Circe:

a—We ruſh'd into the Main;
Then bending to the ſtroke, their oars they drew
To their broad breaſts, and ſwift the galley flew.
Up ſprung a brisker breeze: with freſhning gales
The friendly Goddeſs ſtretch'd the ſwelling [...]ails;
We drop our oars: at eaſe the pilot guides;
The veſſel light along the level glides.
Then riſing ſad and ſlow, with penſive look,
Thus to the melancholly train I ſpoke.

[153] The objects ſhift perpetually in theſe Lines; and yet there is not a ſingle period or pauſe in them, the ſound and turn of which does not agree perfectly with the ſentiment: I do not intend to enlarge much upon them; but had it been wrote in the Days of Dionyſius Halicarnaſſaeus, I doubt not but he wou'd have given us a Diſſertation, on a paſſage which ſo variouſly expreſſes that Art, of which he was particularly fond. That is the Critick, I think, ſays Antiphaus, who firſt a obſerv'd this Beauty in the noted Deſcription of Siſyphus his Stone? Yes, anſwer'd Philypſus; and every one knows how perfectly well the excellence of that Paſſage is preſerv'd b in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation.

Words give us the bare Ideas of things; but words, thus managed, impreſs them [...]ery ſtrongly and ſenſibly upon the mind: Do you not perceive the Storm riſing c W [...]en the wild Winds whiſtle o'er the main? and are you not in the midſt of it when d Eaſt, Weſt together roar, and South and North roll mountains to the Shore? [154] Then are we hurried o'er the Deep, and ſee all the rocks and dangers of it:

a Dire S [...]ylla there a ſcene of Horror forms,
And here Charybdis fills the ſea with ſtorms;
When the tide ruſhes from her rumbling caves
The rough rock roars; tumultuous boil the waves;
They toſs: they foam.—

The next moment if the Poet pleaſes (like the Daemon he ſpeaks of) He can make all as gentle and ſerene, as it was before rough and boiſtrous.

b Sunk are at once the winds [...] the air above
And waves below, at once forget to move:
Some Daemon calm'd the air, and ſmooth'd the deep,
Huſh'd the loud winds, and charm'd the waves to ſleep.

Did you ever ſee a more perfect Calm? Yet ſmooth and huſh'd as theſe Lines are, you may eaſily perceive a difference between the deſcription of a ſtill Sea, and the eaſy beautiful current of a River.

c Smooth flows the gentle ſtream with wanton pride,
And in ſoft mazes rolls a ſilver tide.

How happy is the hand of the Poet, and what a Command has he of Nature, to make the numbers of his verſe [155] ſpeak his Sentiments; Thus to paint even ſounds; and to draw by Meaſures, what does not come under the power of the Pencil? In this Writer, Sir John Denham's Wiſh is effected: His Lines always flow as his Subjec [...];

Tho' deep, yet clear; tho' gentle, yet not dull [...]
Strong, without rage; without o'erflowing full.

I thank you (ſays Antiphaus bowing) I thank you, my dear Philypſus, for this unexpected view of one of the greateſt Beauties in Poetry. I cou'd willingly [...]ay to hear you farther on this Head, [...]nd am perfectly angry with the Night [...]or wearing away ſo faſt. I hope we [...]all ſoon find an opportunity of reſu [...]ing the Subject (anſwer'd Philypſus) I [...]eed not tell you how agreeable it is to [...]e, even to be convinc'd of my Errors [...] Antiphaus; and I'm ſatisfy'd that [...] take a delight in any occaſion of [...]miring Mr. Pope. I beg you would [...] me Antiphaus; do you not approve [...] him in ſome points, more than you [...]e formerly? I do not know how it [...]ays Antiphaus) but I ſeem to be both [...]re pleas'd, and more diſpleas'd with [...] than I was before this enquiry: [...] Excellencies, from the light in which [...] have ſet them, ſtrike me more agreeably [156] than ever; but then this looking ſo cloſely into his Defects has made thoſe too the more groſs and viſible. However (concluded Philypſus) you will ſtill acknowledge with me, That his faults are the faults of a Man, bu [...] his beauties are the beauties of an Angel.—You don't ſeem to like the word: it may ſound perhaps too high; but I mean only of a Great and Uncommon Genius.

FINIS.

2.

[]

AN ESSAY ON Pope's ODYSSEY: IN WHICH Some particular Beauties and Blemiſhes of that Work are conſidered. PART. II.

—Each finding, like a friend,
Something to blame, and ſomething to commend.
Pope's Miſcel. Vol. I.
Le choix des grans mots donne aux choſes une eſpece d'ame & de vie: les beaux mots ſont la lumiere propre et naturelle de nos penſées: mais un diſcours tout ſimple exprimera quelquefois mieux la choſe, que toute la pompe & tout l' ornement.
Boileau.

Printed for S. Wilmot, Bookſeller in OXFORD; and Sold by J. and J. Knapton, R. Knaplock, J. Wyatt, D. Midwinter, W. and J. Innys, and T. Aſtley, in St. Paul's Church-Yard; W. Mears, without Temple-bar; J. Crokat, in Fleet-Street; and J. Roberts, in Warwick-Lane, LONDON. 1727.

Price One Shilling and Six-Pence.

[]
INDEX OF Figures, Paſſions, &c.
  • AF [...]ectation 1 [...] 23
  • Allegori [...]s 2, 78
  • Amazement 2, 189
  • Ambiguity 2, 25
  • Anger 2, 42
  • Anti-climax 2, 139
  • Anti theſis 1, 12 2, 116, 159
  • A [...]chaiſm 2, 13
  • A [...]milation 2, 185
  • A [...]oniſhment 1, 55. 2, 47
  • [...]v [...]lence 2, 102
  • [...]baſt 1, 23, 47
  • [...]iſm 2, 1 [...]0
  • Ir [...]aks 2 42
  • Co [...]pounds 2, 9
  • [...] 2, 126
  • C [...]rn 2. 44
  • C [...]iſ [...]neſs 1, 88, 2, 113
  • [...] 2, 41
  • [...] 2. 65
  • [...] 1, 137. 2, 22
  • [...]raſt 2, 169
  • [...]age 1, 53
  • [...] and Criticiſm, [...] 100, 143, &c. 2, 5, 36, 143, &c.
  • Delay 2, 125, 203
  • Deſcription 1, 6, 16, 6 [...]
  • Deſcriptions of Elyſium 1, 627.—Tartarus, 2, 130. Phaeacia, 1, 65.—Ithaca. 1, 64.—of the Royal Palace, 2, 167. [...]f the Country [...] ib.—of Laert [...]s his Gardens, ib.—of the Cave of the Nymphs, 1, 67.—of Calypſo's Grot, 1, 66.—of diſtant Proſpect [...], 1, 67
  • Shield of Achilles, 2, 193 [...] Hercules Belt, 2, 194 [...] Ceſ [...]us of Venus, 2, 1935. -of a Ship u [...]der Sail, 1, 68.—of Rowing, 1 [...] 69.—o [...] driving a C [...]ariot, ib.—of the War [...]horſe from Virgil, 1, 54.—of Fiſh expiring [...]n th [...] Shore, 2, 169
  • [] Virgil's Troilus, 2, 194. his Achaemenides, 1, 77—of Herces going to an Engagement, 1, 53 [...]f dying Heroes, 1, 46—H [...]rce of the Odyſſey, his firſt App [...]arance in that P [...]em, 1 [...] 72.—of a malicious Smile, 1, 80.—an une [...]ſy Smile, 2, 180. [...] an horrid one, 1, 79
  • D [...]ſ [...]riptions from the Turn and Management of the Numbers, Sailing 1, 153—a T [...]mpeſt, ib. a Calm at S [...]a, 1, 154.—a Smooth-ſtream, ib. See, Verſification.
  • Diſtraction between Hope and fear 1, 77.
  • Double-paſſions 1, 76, 84. 2, 181
  • Doubt 2 [...] 50
  • Elevation 1, 6. 2, 153
  • Emphaſis 1, 86, 2. 20, 115. 120
  • Epithets thei [...] uſes 2. 16 to 22.—abuſe, 2, 28 to 35.—in Allegories 2, 83
  • Exclamation 2, 40
  • Fable 1, 32
  • Fear 2, 187, to 1 [...]0
  • Figures, whence and what 1, 117. 2, 38, 39, and 17 [...]
  • Fineſſes 1, 11
  • Fuſtian 1 [...] 2 [...]
  • Grammar 1, 117, 2, 13
  • Hirmu [...] 2, 12 [...]
  • Hyperbaton 2, 11, and 9 [...]
  • Hyperboles 2, 188
  • Hy [...]ernianiſm 1, 141
  • Idea's, or actings of the Mind'deſcrib'd 1, 59, 6 [...], 83, 2, 189.—Aſſimilation of Idea's 2, 185. [...] of Idea's 2, 21
  • Imitation 1, 94. 2, 8 [...]. 2, 161
  • Indignation 2, [...]
  • Infinitude 2, 131
  • Inſertion 2, [...]
  • Inſulting 2, 63, 6 [...]
  • Intimation 2, 11 [...]
  • Joy, 2, 40. Exceſs of J [...] 2, 50 [...] 51, 53
  • Love in Calypſo 2, 48.—m Penelope 2, 51.—of one's Country 1, [...]4
  • Lowneſſes, from exceſs o [...] defect, 2, 135.-from th [...] Characters of the Perſon 2, 137.—from [...] 2, 146. or nauſeou [...] Ideas 2, 147.- from br [...] tiſhneſs 2, 1 [...]1.—fro [...] thoug [...]t [...] being falſe a [...] the bottom 2, 155- from improper Mixture o [...] Ideas 2, 136.—fr [...]m [...] too g [...]eat [...] 2, 138.—from [...] 2, 153.—from t [...] much Ornament 1, 111. 2, 154.—from aimin [...] [...] Simplicity 1, 10 [...], 109.—from the uſe o [...] [...]rds [] too vulgar, or debaſed 1, 112. 2, 142.—or burleſque 2, 143.—from a proſaick Diction 2, 14—from the Rhime 1, 110-from Monoſyllables 1, 2, 141. from ſporting upon Words 2, 157. from imitating a lower Writer 2, 161
  • Lowneſſes in Homer 1, 106. 2, 145
  • M [...]lancholy 2, 40, 55
  • Metaphor 1, 29, to 38. 2. 60 and 61.—the emphatical 2, 62.—the animating 2, 66.—the audacious 2, 63.—confuſed with the [...]ro [...]r 1, 31. 2, 29 and 77—forced and ill choſen 1, 36. 2, 84.—diſagreei [...]g 1, 34.—diſproporti [...]ed to the Occaſion 2, 75.—too frequent 1, 33.—continued too far 2, 77—dark or un-ideal 1, 38
  • [...]otony, general 1, 27. [...]rticular 1, 137 [...] Heroiſm 2, 106 [...] a poetical Trea [...] of Morality 2, 164. [...] ſuch preferable to all [...] (human) Poems 2, 101
  • [...] Engliſh. one great [...]ty of it 1, 136— [...]ticular inconvenien [...] in tranſlating it 1 [...] [...]improves on the Original in ſeveral Paſſages I. 49, 58, 63, 65, 88, 90, 95, 98. [...], 19, 38, 41, 48, 53, 73, 90, 104, 149, 170
  • Oppoſition 2, 116
  • Orientali [...]m 2, 56
  • Paſſions 1, 56—the moſt eminent in the Hero of the Odyſſey 1, 71, to 75.—contrary paſſions 1, 76. 2, 181
  • Poetry and Painting 1, 75 86. 2, 191
  • Precipitation 2, 51
  • Prevention 2, 54
  • Prophecy 2, 54
  • Proſopopeia 2, 72
  • Rage 1, 45
  • Rants 1, 47
  • Rhime 1, 119, to 130.
  • Repetition 1, 90. 2, 125, 203
  • Sanchoïſm 2, 111
  • Scene of th [...] Odyſſey 2, 167
  • Self-praiſe 1, 52
  • Sentences 2, 99 to 109
  • Silence 2, 45 to 49
  • Similie pathetick 1, 74. Exact 1, 78—ſhort and expreſſive 2, 170—adapted to the Place, Pe [...]ſon, or Circumſtances 2, 171, 172—unuſual 173—agreeable and free 174—the continued 176—the multiplied 177, 175—the contrary 176.
  • [] Similies from calm life 2, 169.—Elevating 2, 69
  • Sound, ſignificant of the ſenſe 1, 151 to 154. 2, 63 Faults from affecting this or carrying it too far, 2, 213
  • Speeches of Calypſo, wavering and tender 1, 81. of Circè, confuſed 1, 55—of Agamemnon violent and enraged 1, 45, 48—of Penelope, tender and amorous 2, 179 -of Ulyſſes Narrative 1, 49, 53.—dit. neat and beautiful 1, 61.—of Tireſias 1, 62.—of Theoclymenus 2, 56—other, prophetical 1, 94
  • Starts 1, 55. 2, 41
  • Stile, the paſſionate 1, 57. the flowing 1, 62—the juſt and ſimple 1, 61—the fabulous 1, 32—the raiſed and ennobled 1, 114.—the elevated and over-wrought 1; 6, 23, 2 [...] 153.—the Un-ideal ſtile, 1, 116
  • Suſpence 2, 43
  • Threats 2, 42
  • Transferring 1, 94 [...] 2, 87
  • Turns 2, 162
  • Verſification muſical 1, 92—too rough and embaraſſed 1, 137—ſimilar 1, 63. adapted to large images 2, 124—how to roughen it 2, 198—how to ſmoothen it 2, 198—the rapid 2, 199—the heavy and embaras'd 2, 200—the horrid; and the delightful 2, 202—the joyous and the melancholy 2, 203—its great Excellence 1, 151—particular faults in it 2, 213—it's grand fault 1 [...] 12 [...]
  • Words debaſed by the Vulgar 2, 9—ſporting upon them, mean 2, 157, 160 [...] appropriated to particular uſes 2, 27—technical, to be avoided 2, 26—new Supplies neceſſary 2, 9—old ones reviv [...]d 2, 13—borrow'd from other Languages. 2, 14 [...]

The Natural Order of the Paſſages quoted from the ODYSSEY.

[]
  • Od. B. 1. V.75 Eſs. II p 115
  • Od. B. 1. V. 77 p 72
  • Od. B. 1. V. 86 p 137
  • Od. B. 1. V. 188 p 8
  • Od. B. 1. V. 190 p 111
  • Od. B. 1. V. 214 Eſs. II, p 213
  • Od. B. 1. V. 219 Eſs. II, p 27
  • Od. B. 1. V. 292 Eſs. II, p 25
  • Od. B. 1. V. 300 p 14 [...]
  • Od. B. 1. V. 309 p 140
  • Od. B. 1. V. 389 Eſs. II, p 20
  • Od. B. 1. V. 408 p 9
  • Od. B. 1. V. 425 p 24
  • Od. B. 1. V. 449 Eſs. II, p 22
  • Od. B. 1. V. 462 p 10
  • Od. B. 1. V. 482 p 109
  • Od. B. 1. V. 483 p 96
  • Od. B. 1. V. 534 p 36
  • Od. B. 1. V. 553 p 27
  • Book 2. V. 26 p 96
  • Book 2. V. 28 Eſs. II, p 77
  • Book 2. V. 54 Eſs. II, p 113
  • Book 2. V. 55 p 96
  • Book 2. V. 77 p 139
  • Book 2. V. 179 p 36
  • Book 2. V. 183 p 24
  • Book 2. V. 201 p 142
  • Book 2. V. 203 p 94
  • Book 2. V. 259 p 139
  • Book 2. V. 320 p 91
  • Book 2. V. 347 p 109
  • Book 2. V. 356 p 91
  • Book 2. V. 362 p 139
  • Book 2. V. 378 p 116
  • Book 2. V. 393 p 106
  • Book 2. V. 415 p 91
  • Book 2. V. 437 p 31
  • Book 2. V. 439 p 35
  • Book 2. V. 459 p 68
  • Book 3. V. 1 p 7
  • Book 3. V. 17 p 112
  • Book 3. V. 25 p 106
  • Book 3. V. 96 p 64
  • Book 3. V. 119 p 86
  • Book 3. V. 126 p 96
  • Book 3. V. 190 Eſs. II, p 24
  • Book 3. V. 213 p 38
  • Book 3. V. 221 p 112
  • Book 3. V. 252 p 112
  • Book 3. V. 311 p 137
  • Book 3. V. 424 p 96
  • Book 3. V. 435 Eſs. II, p 136
  • Book 3. V. 451 p 96
  • Book 3. V. 493 p 9
  • [] Book 3. V. 523 p 106
  • Book 3. V. 601 p 8
  • Book 3. V. 618 p 69
  • Book 3. V. 628 p 70
  • Book 4. V. 19 p 23
  • Book 4. V. 47 Eſs. II, p 27
  • Book 4. V. 104 p 117
  • Book 4. V. 107 p 9
  • Book 4. V. 116 Eſs. II, p 62
  • Book 4. V. 145 p 96
  • Book 4. V. 154 p 14
  • Book 4. V. 158 p 8
  • Book 4. V. 199 Eſs. II, p 27
  • Book 4. V. 227 Eſs. II, p 143
  • Book 4. V. 248 p 26
  • Book 4. V. 256 p 112
  • Book 4. V. 320 Eſs. II, p 21
  • Book 4. V. 371 p 96
  • Book 4. V. 388 p 35, & 138
  • Book 4. V. 406 p 137
  • Book 4. V. 411 p 7
  • Book 4. V. 438 p 96
  • Book 4. V. 480 p 26
  • Book 4. V. 509 p 96
  • Book 4. V. 543 Eſs. II, p 147
  • Book 4. V. 547 Eſs. II, p 213
  • Book 4. V. 548 Eſs. II, p 147
  • Book 4. V. 587 Eſs. II, p 80
  • Book 4. V. 615 p 44
  • Book 4. V. 708 p 116
  • Book 4. V. 725 Eſs. II, p 213
  • Book 4. V. 726 p 26
  • Book 4. V. 748 p 38
  • Book 4. V. 776 p 62
  • Book 4. V. 794 Eſs. II, p 27
  • Book 4. V. 808 p 96
  • Book 4. V. 951 p 26
  • Book 4. V. 962 p 31
  • Book 4. V. 1096 p 9
  • Book 5. V. 65 p 140
  • Book 5. V. 80 p 96
  • Book 5. V. 85 Eſs. II, p 18
  • Book 5. V. 92 p 66
  • Book 5. V. 96 p 90, & 96
  • Book 5. V. 124 p 140
  • Book 5. V. 159 p 38
  • Book 5. V. 192 p 112
  • Book 5. V. 204 p 72
  • Book 5. V. 213 Eſs. II, p 84
  • Book 5. V. 224 p 141
  • Book 5. V. 227 Eſs. II, p 17
  • Book 5. V. 246 p 81
  • Book 5. V. 265 p 82
  • Book 5. V. 288 p 96
  • Book 5. V. 296 p 112
  • Book 5. V. 305 Eſs. II, p 48
  • Book 5. V. 3 [...]2 p 36
  • Book 5. V. 356 p 68
  • Book 5. V. 365 p 32
  • Book 5. V. 380 p 153
  • Book 5. V. 391 p 38
  • Book 5. V. 393 p 110
  • Book 5. V. 395 p 38
  • Book 5. V. 417 Eſs. II, p 173
  • Book 5. V. 420 Eſs. II, p 1 [...]0
  • Book 5. V. 480 p 32
  • Book 5. V. 515 p 38
  • Book 5. V. 521 Eſs. II, p 12 [...]
  • Book 5. V. 529 Eſs. II, p 126
  • Book 5. V. 573 p 96
  • Book 5. V. 585 p 14
  • Book 5. V. [...]30 Eſs. II, p 173
  • Book 6. V. 40 p 141
  • Book 6. V. 67 Eſs. II, p 2 [...]
  • Book 6. V. 138 p 13 [...]
  • [] Book 6. V. 197 p 96
  • Book 6. V. 204 Eſs. II, p 71
  • Book 6. V. 235 p 96
  • Book 6. V. 245 Eſs. II, p 102
  • Book 6. V. 247 Eſs. II, p 112
  • Book 6. V. 262 p 14
  • Book 6. V. 284 p 116
  • Book 6. V. 298 p 37
  • Book 6. V. 306 p 8
  • Book 6. V. 370 p 112
  • Book 6. V. 374 Eſs. II, p 71
  • Book 7. V. 42 Eſs. II, p 172
  • Book 7. V. 54 Eſs. II, p 25
  • Book 7. V. 117 Eſs. II, p 27
  • Book 7. V. 123 Eſs. II, p 153
  • Book 7. V. 135 Eſs. II, p 170
  • Book 7. V. 193 Eſs. II, p 137
  • Book 7. V. 228 Eſs. II, p 137
  • Book 7. V. 256 Eſs. II, p 103
  • Book 7. V. 264 Eſs. II, p 105
  • Book 7. V. 296 Eſs. II, p 137
  • Book 7. V. 428 Eſs. II, p 27
  • Book 8. V. 18 p 116
  • Book 8. V. 68 Eſs. II, p 141
  • Book 8. V. 78 Eſs. II, p 142
  • Book 8. V. 90 p 91
  • Book 8. V. 140 p 34
  • Book 8. V. 185 p 61 & Eſs. II 2 [...]
  • Book 8. V. 256 p 10 [...]
  • Book 8. V. 362 p 109
  • Book 8. V. 380 Eſs. II, p 22
  • Book 8. V. 437 p 23
  • Book 8. V. 4 [...]4 p 14
  • Book 8. V. 580, p 7 [...], & 139
  • Book 9. V. 67 Eſs. II, p 19
  • Book 9. V. 147 p 140
  • Book 9. V. 202 p 109
  • Book 9. V. 210 p 31
  • Book 9. V. 217 Eſs. II, p 124
  • Book 9. V. 224 p 31
  • Book 9. V. 321 Eſs. II, p 102
  • Book 9. V. 329 Eſs. II, p 103
  • Book 9. V. 330 Eſs. II, p 20
  • Book 9. V. 353 p 37
  • Book 9. V. 354 Eſs. II, p 124
  • Book 9. V. 420 p 97
  • Book 9. V. 443 Eſs. II, p 147
  • Book 9. V. 4 [...]9 Eſs. II, p 75
  • Book 9. V. 469 Eſs. II, p 124
  • Book 9. V. 514 Eſs. II, p 25
  • Book 9. V. 515 Eſs. II, p 81
  • Book 9. V. 550 Eſs. II, p 189
  • Book 9. V. 581 Eſs. II, p 71
  • Book 9. V. 604 Eſs. II, p 185
  • Book 9. V. 618 p 31
  • Book 10. V. 93 p 94
  • Book 10. V. 131 Eſs. II, p 136
  • Book 10. V. 144 Eſs. II, p 136
  • Book 10. V. 172 p 137
  • Book 10. V. 173 p 67
  • Book 10. V. 204 Eſs. II, p 24
  • Book 10. V. 205 Eſs. II, p 157
  • Book 10. V. 227 Eſs. II, p 144
  • Book 10. V. 259 p 106
  • Book 10. V. 281 p 90
  • Book 10. V. 282 p 96
  • Book 10. V. 285 Eſs. II, p 147
  • Book 10. V. 288 Eſs. II, p 46
  • Book 10. V. 291 Eſs. II, p 20
  • Book 10. V. 382 p 87
  • Book 10. V. 385 p [...]4
  • Book 10. V. 387 p 86
  • Book 10. V. 395 p 5 [...]
  • Book 10. V. 410 p 91, 97
  • [] Book 10. V. 451 p 141
  • Book 10. V. 556 p 96
  • Book 10. V. 569 p 96
  • Book 10. V. 588 p 96
  • Book 10. V. 591 p 106
  • Book 10. V. 593 Eſs. II, p 153
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  • Book. 12. V. 32 Eſs. II, p 155
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  • Book. 13. V. 13 Eſs. II, p 8 [...]
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  • Book. 14. V. 4 p 64
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  • Book. 14. V. 110 p 8 [...]
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  • [] Book. 14. V. 392 p 106
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  • Book. 14. V. 533 p 38
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  • Book. 14. V. 740 Eſs. II, p 159

N. B. All the following References belong to the Second Volume of the ESSAY.

  • Book 15. V. 145 p 24
  • Book 15. V. 151 p 168
  • Book 15. V. 250 p 88
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  • p 212
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  • [] Book. 19. V. 131 p 76
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  • Book 22. V. 3 [...] p 157
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An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the FOURTH.

[1]

AFTER having engag'd themſelves ſo far, we may imagine that Antiphaus and Philypſus waited with a good deal of Impatience for the remaining Part of [...]e Odyſſey. As it happen'd, they were [...]oth in Town, before it appear'd in Pub [...]ck; and Philypſus, who was the warmer [...] the two, us'd to enquire almoſt every [...]y at Lintot's how the Preſs went on. [...]e grew ſtill the more eager, as the [...]me drew nearer: and the firſt moment [...] cou'd procure it in Sheets, he ſet down [...] them with all the Pleaſure, and all the [...]verity, that Antiphaus had preach'd up to [...]m in their former Enquiries.

[2] In the time that was taken up by this agreeable Search, he call'd often upon that Friend, with whom he ſhar'd his Studies, as well as his Affections. This was rather a Dividing, than Leaving his Purſuits: for he ſcarce ever ſaw Antiphaus, without mentioning ſomething of the Odyſſey, and hearing his Sentiments in return. When he had gone entirely thorough the Poem, he went immediately to deſire a Meeting, in ſome place where they might talk more at large upon that Head. By good luck Antiphaus was perfectly diſengag'd: ‘'Tis a fine Evening, ſays he; and if you pleaſe we will take a turn together in the Gardens of Horatio: ſince we cannot enjoy his Company, at leaſt let us make uſe of that Liberty he has left with us. There we ſhall be retir'd from the Noiſe, and Buſtle of the Town; and ſafe from every ſort of Interruption.’ Philypſus was extremely pleas'd to find him ſo ready: they ſtept together into his Coach, which drove immediately to Horatio's, and ſet them down at the Gates which lead into the Great-Walk of the Garden.

After a turn or two there, they ſat down by the ſide of a Fountain, full in [...]ight of the Thames, which paſſes at [3] the bottom of the Walk. The Walk itſelf makes a fine Viſto in its Deſcent to the River: at a diſtance, you ſee the Fields and Hills; at firſt in an eaſy Aſcent varied into Paſture and Arable, and then riſing unequally, and cover'd here and there with Woods, till they are inſenſibly loſt in a bluiſh Caſt of the Clouds. The agreeableneſs of the Place made Philypſus forget himſelf for a few Moments: he was taken up wholly in wandering with his Eye, ſometimes over thoſe beautiful Gardens, and ſometimes over the irregular Proſpect that lay before them. At laſt recollecting himſelf and turning to An [...]i [...]aus, ‘There is a difference (ſays he) in the agreeable Senſe I [...]eel at preſent [...]rom the delightful Views on all ſides of us, which may partly confirm what we were talking of juſt before we ſat down.’ Does not this Maſter-piece of Art, with all its Symmetry and Juſtneſs of Proportions, ſtrike the Mind in a fee [...]ler manner, than that Landskape of Nature in its infinite Irregularity? Theſe meaſured Riſes and Falls, in Slopes anſwering each other, Thoſe Groves terminating every way in an exactneſs of [...]igure, Theſe Walks intercroſſing with [...]ut confuſion, and uniting [...]o happily, [4] cannot fail of pleaſing the Eye very much: Yet that Wildneſs and Variety abroad, the River, Lawn, Fields and Woods ſo beautifully interſpers'd, compoſe a Scene much finer and more engaging. For my part, I ſhou'd be apt to prefer that ſingle Grot yonder, and the hanging Precipice over it, to a whole Scenary of natural Objects laid out in the moſt regular order imaginable. There is ſomething of this in the Pleaſure which is given us by the greateſt Writers. A Noble natural Genius, however irregular and unconfin'd, delights us in a much higher degree, than the moſt uniform and correct: And the Writer who enjoys this freedom of Soul, amidſt all his Starts and Errors, is greatly to be prefer'd to the Juſtneſs of one, who is too ſevere to commit a Fault, and too cool and phlegmatick to be a P [...]et.

Such a temper (reply'd Antiphaus) can never produce any thing truly Great. The nobleſt Poet in the World has not the feweſt Faults: and the ſame Spirit which qualified Homer to be ſo, is what at the ſame time might hurry him away from a nicer Obſervation of ſome little Particulars. The very Negligencies of Homer ſhew the Greatneſs of his Spirit: and where there may be any like Negligencies [5] in the Verſion of Homer, methinks, it wou'd be but Juſtice to attribute them to the ſame Cauſe: at leaſt where the Spirit of that Poet is ſo diſcernible, as it is in this late Tranſlation.

I cannot but ſmile ſometimes, when I hear a ſeverer Reader very gravely condemning a Poem for a few Faults, which may be evident in it here and there. Nothing can be plainer than that our Judgments ought to be form'd upon the Whole, and not upon Particulars: the Superiority of Beauties or D [...] fects is the only thing that can determine the Character of the Piece. 'Tis poſſible that Mr. Hobbes may have expreſs'd a word or two correctly, where the New Tranſlation has deviated into a Metaphorical or licentious Expreſſion: but what a ſtrange method of Compariſon would it be, to ſettle our opinion of the Writers from hence? By ſuch a way of proceeding we might prefer one, who loſes the Life and Vigour of Poetry throughout, to others who preſerve it ſo ſtrongly in the general Turn of their Compoſitions.

As we go on, Philypſus, with our uſual freedom of ſpeaking our Sentiments on each particular Paſſage; I dare ſay, [6] that even all thoſe, which may ſeem faulty to us, will make but a ſmall figure, when compar'd to the ſeveral Excellencies of this Piece. As for my part, after a Reſearch of ſome care thro' the whole Tranſlation, I find no reaſon at all to alter my Opinion, ‘That the Beauties of it are far more numerous, and far more conſiderable, than its Blemiſhes: even taking all thoſe things for real Blemiſhes, which we may only imagine to be ſuch.’

If the faſhionable Choice of Verſe be juſtly blameable; it may as juſtly be ſaid that no one moves with more freedom in his Fetters. In particular Lines, there may be ſome farther diſagreeable Likeneſſes of Sound; but the Variety of Numbers in general is great and handſome: What Smoothneſs and Harmony do we find thro' the courſe of the Poem; and how ſeldom are they interrupted either by the Littleneſs, or the Vaſtneſs of the Words? by the Openneſs of the Vowels, the Claſhing of Conſonants, or any other Roughneſſes whatever: Not to mention againſt theſe, that Significance of Sound, which is more frequent, and more happily practis'd by Mr. Pope, in particular, than by any other of the Modern Poets.

[7] As to the Diction; not only the Poem but our Language itſelf is enrich'd by it. Where it is once Mean, it is in many inſtances Great, Noble, and Solemn. Where a Simplicity beyond our Taſte is to be preſerv'd, we may expect ſome Flatneſſes: And it may be to theſe perhaps we owe that Juſtneſs and Purity, which in ſo many places makes us imagine, that we are converſing with Perſons of thoſe Firſt Ages of the World, in all their Plainneſs and Honeſty of Behaviour. At other times the Narration is rais'd, and the Images ſtrengthen'd by a figurative way of ſpeaking, tho' no doubt, in ſome caſes, to exceſs: but theſe Exceſſes may well be paſs'd over, when we conſider, that they proceed from Liberties, which are highly uſeful in rendering the Stile the more various and poetical; ſo far, as frequently to improve upon Homer himſelf.

Above all, is that flame and ſpirit diffus'd thro' the whole Poem; and oftentimes ſo well kept up, as to make us forget, that we are reading a Tranſlation. When we are engag'd in the Piece, do not the great and generous Sentiments we meet with perpetually, make a few Thoughts, which have ſomething cold or little in them, appear inconſiderable [8] upon the firſt Compariſon? What Eclairciſements have we, and how little Obſcurity? What a number of natural Thoughts, Images, and Deſcriptions might be produc'd, to over-ballance ſuch Lines in it, as may ſeem to be Affected, or too Artificial?

Thus which ever way we turn ourſelves, whether we conſider the Poetical Spirit, the Language, or the Verſification; in each of them the Beauties far exceed the Defects. It is with this Notion we ought to proceed in our Enquiries: we muſt carry this Thought all along with us. Let us remember Philypſus, ‘That all human Excellence ſtands merely on Compariſon: that no one is without Faults, and that very few arrive in any tolerable degree towards Perfection: That Mr. Pope does not only appear among the Few, but that his Superiority is every way viſible: If we compare his Compoſitions in general with thoſe of our other Poets, the Diſproportion is as great, as when we compare the Blemiſhes of his own Poetry, with the Beauties which every where abound in it.’

Some of theſe we are now to conſider; and we may enter on this View with the greater Pleaſure, as we have the advantage [9] of Mr. Pope's own Obſervations in ſeveral Points, both as to thoſe things, in which he met with the greateſt difficulty; and the Methods he has taken of raiſing his Language, and improving the Verſification.

One of the greateſt Sources of raiſing, as well as enlarging the Poetical Language, is by inventing New Words, or importing old Ones from a foreign Soil. Words, when they are us'd vulgarly, grow mean: Like other Faſhions, when their uſe is once got among the Populace, they ſoon begin to be rejected by the politer Part of the World. This it is (as a the Gentlemen of Port Royal very juſtly obſerve) which neceſſitates the introducing of New Words into every Language; it occaſions a continual Decay, and demands continual Supplies. Thus whoever has a Felicity this way, is a Benefactor to the Publick: he adds ſo much to the Bank; and gives his Aſſiſtance in ſupporting the preſent Credit of Language among us.

It wou'd be equally trifling and laborious, to give all the particular Inſtances of this Verſion's enriching our Language. It is every where viſible; there [10] is no reading a Book in the Odyſſey, without obſerving it frequently. You will almoſt conſtantly find his new Words to be apt, eaſy, and poetical. Sometimes he introduces the Expreſſions, and even the Peculiarities of other Languages into our own: Theſe, when unforc'd, pleaſe us very particularly, by the Variety, and Novelty, they bring along with them. We admire the Stranger in our Habit; and are extremely taken to ſee him look as free and eaſy as if he were a Native, and had been always truly Engliſh.

The Poet has the ſame Art and Delicacy in Connecting two Words into one, a thing much more difficult than Inventing: The Union is proper and inſenſible; there is no Knot, where they are ingrafted: in ſhort, they a may be ſaid rather to grow into one another, than to be brought together by Art. I do not ſay, that this hits ſo naturally in all the Inſtances; there may be b ſome Words leſs tractable, or leſs harmonious than others: But in [11] general we may affirm, that as his Tranſlation is wrought off from a Language, which in this Reſpect greatly exceeds all that ever were; So the Imitations of it, this way, are unuſually Beautiful and Harmonious.

To deviate from the ſtrict Rules which Grammarians wou'd impoſe on Words, either ſingle, or as they ſtand in their relations to one another, gives an agreeable uncommon Air to Language; but in the very Notion of it carries ſomething of difficulty, and niceneſs along with it. Mr. Pope ſeems to have thought it the ſafeſt way in ſuch Caſes to follow or reſemble thoſe Deviations, which have been already Authoriz'd by ſome Maſterly hand: and where he ſtrikes more boldly into any new Freedom, he is generally careful of giving things ſuch an Openneſs, that they may neither perplex the Senſe, nor embarraſs the Period.

A thing more uſeful and agreeable than either of theſe, is to turn the ſtream of Words out of their common Channel.—There is a good deal of Stiffneſs, which yet attends our Language, from the ſtated order of Words in ſuch a repeated Succeſſion: and tho' we are much freer than our Neighbours the French in this particular, I ſhou'd be glad to [12] ſee our Poets, at leaſt, go yet farther towards the Liberties of the old Greeks and Romans. Mr. Pope has ſome ſtrokes toward this: he is ſometimes bold in varying the expected range of Words, to give his Sentences a new and agreeable air: he tranſpoſes their order, often by his own Judgment, and often in imitation of ſome of our beſt Poets, who have ſucceeded in it before.

I wou'd not have a certain Grammarian, or two, over-hear me commending theſe Liberties ſo freely: it wou'd certainly coſt one a Diſpute. You know the Men: they are as ſtrict in the Punctilio's of Words, as ſome formal People are in the little Points of Behaviour. I warrant you, your Neighbour, The Doctor, wou'd ſtand as ſtrictly upon the Nominative Caſe's going before the Verb, as Wicquefort wou'd for the Precedence of an Embaſſador: 'Tis certain he can ſettle all the Rules of Place from undeniable Authorities; diſpoſes of the Upper-hand with perfect Oeconomy; and, upon the whole, would make an Excellent Maſter of the Ceremonies among Words and Syllables.

However, with this Gentleman's leave, there are ſeveral juſt Liberties which may be allow'd for varying the Poetical [13] a Stile: and many Aids, proper to enliven and elevate it in the more noble Parts of a Poem.

Among the latter, Mr. Pope has made very good uſe of Antiquated Words; and no leſs of Expreſſions borrow'd from our Tranſlation of the Sacred Writings. The Language of Scripture, as it is receiv'd from the firſt with a certain religious Awe, will ſtill retain ſomething venerable, and auguſt: it may therefore be of ſignal Service in giving to the Heroick Muſe that Majeſty, which ſo well becomes the Sublime Air ſhe ought to aſſume. 'Tis much the ſame in the revival of old Words: Antiquity always carries a ſort of Solemnity with it, in its very Roughneſſes and Decays: The Ruſtick ſtrikes the Mind, as ſtrongly, as any thing in Architecture; and Ruins themſelves have often ſomething awful and majeſtick in them.

I wou'd not willingly interrupt you (ſays Philypſus) but the humour of heaping ſuperannuated Words in ſome late Poems, is too provoking to be paſs'd by. How have our Miltonick Writers, in particular, [14] proſtituted them on all occaſions: in what an undiſtinguiſhing manner do they labour to draw into their Works, any word which their great Maſter has adopted into his Paradiſe Loſt?—Erſt, Nathleſs, Beheſts, Welkin, and a Thouſand other Expreſſions of equal beauty and agreeableneſs of Sound, are repeated ten times in every Sheet of theirs: in ſhort, theſe Gentlemen have made me quite ſick of People's going two Hundred Years backward for their Language; and furniſhing out half their Poems from the Vocabularies annex'd to Spencer and Chaucer.

As for ſome of thoſe Writers (reply'd Antiphaus calmly) You have reaſon to be angry with them; but if we may reject any thing meerly for the abuſe of it, there is nothing of the greateſt uſe, that we may not fairly reject. Virgil made particular uſe of this method in his Poems, and was a admired by his Countrymen on that account: What is your Opinion of our Milton? Are you diſpleas'd with the antiquated Words in his Writings? No, Philypſus, I know your Taſte too [15] well to imagine any thing of that nature. And even of thoſe, that have follow'd his Example, there is one or two who make good uſe of them. This we ſee in Philips's pieces; not to mention the new a Poem we were reading the other Day: the Author of which, beſide ſeveral other Beauties, is by no means unhappy in his Management of this ſort of Words. I agree with you, the Abuſe of them is frequent, and much to be condemn'd: If perpetual, they run into a meer Barbariſm; and indeed where-ever they are thruſt in, without any other reaſon except their being Ancient, they give a Roughneſs and Diſorder, inſtead of the proper Solemnity: But when they are plac'd here and there with Judgment, they ſupport the greatneſs of our Ideas, and reflect a venerableneſs on the ſubject. Were the Old Oaks, that are left ſtanding in the Gardens of Blenheim, more numerous, that Deſign might have too much of the Foreſt in it: but as they [...]re, they ſerve to communicate the nobler [...]ir of Antiquity to the things about them; [...]nd appear in a Majeſty of Years, equal [...]o the Grandeur of the Place.

I wou'd deſire you to commend the in [...]rtion of Solemn Words, only as they [16] are proper to the Places in which they are us'd. We ſee by Mr. Pope's Obſervations on this Head, that he underſtands the Benefit of them perfectly well; as his Works ſhew that he practiſes up to his own Rules; and ſcarce ever inſerts either the Words of former Centuries, or the Language of Scripture, but where the Subject demands a ſolemn and venerable Turn.

As theſe are the chief Methods of ennobling the Poetick Stile; ſo the chief to enliven it, is the free and various uſe of Epithets. No one thing is of greater ſervice to the Poets for diſtinguiſhing [...]eir Language from Proſe. This has occaſion'd that a large and unreſtrain'd uſe of them, ſo much beyond what we [...]nd in Oratory: And tho' Homer is more bold and frequent in this, than any of the Poets who have wrote ſince; I know not any of the Ancient Criticks who have ever blam'd him on that account. 'Tis partly from his uncommon liberties this way, that Mr. Pope looks upon his Epithets, as one of the b Diſtinguiſhing [17] Marks of that Poet. In Homer they have on ſeveral accounts a peculiar air: and this Tranſlation not only preſerves their proper beauties, but ſhews many Methods of improving upon them. Sometimes the Old are ſet in a ſtronger light, and ſometimes New ones added with a peculiar grace: Sometimes ſeveral are applied to the ſame thing, without a that ſtrictneſs of connexion, which wou'd b flatten the energy of them; and where the poverty of our Language will not convey their full Senſe in the Conciſeneſs of the Original, they are enlarged upon in the Tranſlation, and laid more open to our view.

Epithets, Philypſus, like Pictures in Miniature, are often entire deſcriptions in one Word. This may be either from their own ſignificance, or by their immediate connexion with ſome known object. We ſee the thing, when the Poet only mentions the Nodding Creſt of an Hero; and form a larger Idea of Jove from the ſingle Epithet of Cloud-compelling, than we might find in a deſcription more diffuſe. It was chiefly from c [18] two Poetical Epithets, that Phidias deſign'd the countenance of his Olympian Jupiter; as, in Reverſe, we often ſee the Perſon in his Epithet, from our being acquainted with ſome Statue, or Picture, to which it refers: Thus when Apollo is call'd the Archer-God, it recalls to our memory the repreſentations we have ſo often ſeen of that Deity: the compleat Figure is rais'd up in the Mind, by touching upon that ſingle circumſtance.

'Tis by the ſame means, that one ſingle Epithet gives us the Idea of any Object, which has been common and familiar to us. Meadows, Fields, Woods, Rivers, and the Sea itſelf, are often imag'd by one well-choſen word. Thus in that a beautiful Deſcription of Calypſo's Bower, you ſee the Groves of living green; the Alders ever quivering; the nodding Cypreſs, and its high Branches, waving with the Storm: 'Tis by Epithets that the ancient Poets paint their Elyſian Gr [...]ves; and the Modern, their Windſor-Foreſts.

Where our Language will not admit of this conciſeneſs, we find the Image preſerv'd by a Deſcription more full and diffuſive; thus,

[19]
—The Morning Sun encreaſing bright
a O'er Heavens pure Azure ſpreads the growing light.

I ſhou'd think that the Opening of the Senſe in a larger Compaſs may often be approv'd, even where we are not driven to it by the poverty of our Language. Homer himſelf, who has the advantage of ſingle Words ſo much ſtronger and more ſignificant, often chuſes to draw out his Sentiments, into ſeveral Lines: and ſometimes b the very ſame Sentiment, which upon other Occaſions he has expreſs'd in one word only. May not the ſame Liberty be allow'd to his Tranſlators? Is it not a fine Enlargement for Inſtance, where Homer is ſpeaking of Penelope's Veil with the Epithet of Pellucid only, to ſay that

the Tranſparent Veil
c Her beauty ſeems and only ſeems to ſhade.

Tho' theſe imaging and deſcriptive Epithets are the more Beautiful, thoſe which add Strength and Emphaſis are [20] by no means to be contemn'd. This way they are of great Service in all Satire; and particularly in that Abuſiveneſs, which Homer is not over nice in beſtowing upon his Gods: they appear well in the Ridicule of the Suitors; and are ſtrong and vehement in any Arrogant Character, particularly in all Contemners of the Gods. I ſhall give you only one inſtance of the latter; from Polypheme's Anſwer to Ulyſſes:

Fools that you are! (the monſter made reply,
His inward fury blazing at his eye)
Or ſtrangers diſtant far from our abodes,
To bid me reverence or regard the Gods.
Know, that we Cyclops are a race above
a Thoſe air-br [...]d people, and their goat-nurs'd Jov [...]

You muſt have obſerv'd (Philypſus) ſeveral other Methods of uſing Epithets poetically. I need not mention the peculiar fitneſs and ſtrength, which they may acquire, from the b occaſions on which they are us'd, or the Light they are ſet in: That c Subſtantives are ſometimes us'd as Epithets; and ſometimes d Epithets as Subſtantives: Sometimes the e Metaphor is convey'd this way with a good Grace; [21] and at others, two Thwarting Ideas are mixt together in a very agreeable manner. Mr. Addiſon is the firſt I know of, that obſerv'd upon theſe, and gave them their Name, and of this kind is the a Vegetable Venom in the fourth Odyſſey, which anſwers b his Inſtance of Aurum Frondens from Virgil.

I know not whether I perfectly apprehend you, or not (interpos'd Philypſus): Do You not mean that particular ſort of Metaphor, when ſome ſtrange quality in a thing, is turn'd into an Epithet, and directly applied to it?—Either that; or elſe ſome ſtrange Circumſtance applied in the ſame manner: in both 'tis the Novelty and the Surprize, that pleaſe us.—I take you, ſays Philypſus; and believe I now ſee a farther Reaſon, why a very natural Paſſage (in another Poem by Mr. Pope) has always been ſo agreeable to me. 'Tis where he ſpeaks of the odd Appearance of things from their inverſion in a River: I think I can repeat it:

Oft in the Stream—The muſing Shepherd ſpies
The head-long Mountains and the downward Skies,
The wa [...]ry Landskip of the pendant Woods,
And abſent trees that tremble in the floods;
In the clear azure Gleam the Flocks are ſeen,
c And floating Foreſts paint the Waves with green.

[22] Theſe are of the kind I mean, ſays Antiphaus; they are bold, but they are natural: Indeed with due caution, greater Contrarieties than theſe may be join'd, under ſome particular Circumſtance, to juſtify ſo unexpected an Union. Thus all Epithets, which contradict the general Senſe of the Thing, but agree with the particular Occaſion; Thus is Grief call'd pleaſing; there are Kindneſſes which are terrible a: And in many caſes Death and even Diſgrace may be deſirable. Inſtances of this kind, are very frequent, eſpecially among our modern Poets. There are b many in this Tranſlation: in particular, 'tis this which gives a new Air to that gay c Speech of Mercury in the Eighth Book.

Tho' the Latins us'd this agreeable Claſh of Ideas, the Greek Poets (as Mr. Addiſon d obſerves on the former Head) wanted Art for it; They, at leaſt the more Ancient of them, never join things that ſeem to diſagree, in ſo cloſe an Union. Unleſs where Nature her ſelf [23] has led the way in an a actual mixture of Contrarieties: in any point, except that ſingle one, theſe muſt be entirely Improvements on the Original.

The Misfortune is, that in all Human Excellencies there will be an Alloy: Faults ſpring out of our Improvements themſelves; and the very methods of Beautifying lead often into Blemiſhes. The way to any Perfection is full of Difficulties and Windings on each ſide; and every ſtep out of the right Path (tho' they croſs each other every Moment) is a wandering from our Deſign. In a word, Philypſus, 'tis much the ſame with Errors and Improvements, as it is with Pleaſure and Pain in the Philoſopher's Fable: they are blended together in ſuch a manner, that it is impoſſible to come at the one, without touching upon the other.

All the Methods which are us'd in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation, and which are ſo often of great Efficacy towards beautifying and improving the Diction, may ſometimes fall under a different Character.

[24] Among the Words which are introduc'd from other Languages into our own, there may be a ſome, which ſtill retain too much of the air of Foreigners: As antiquated Words may b look too Groteſque, or have a rough diſagreeable ſound. The very Solemnity of Scriptural Expreſſions may ſometimes require that they ſhould not be c alienated: at leaſt it may make them look d too high for the Paſſages in which they are inſerted.

Next to the importing of Words New to the Poetical Stile, is the varying the uſe of the Old. To deviate from the ſtrictneſs of Grammar, is what gave a riſe to Rhetorick; and ſurely there are few who wou'd not prefer all the beautiful Forms and Figures of the latter (at leaſt for Poetry and Oratory) to that bare correctneſs, which alone is the Province of the former: Yet there may be Innovations on this too harſh or daring; and Figures, that may look more like Patchwork, than true Ornaments in the Dreſs of Poetry.

[25] The greater danger is, when the Poet aſſumes a any common Word in a new unuſual Senſe. The worſt Fault of any Language is, Ambiguity; that great cauſe of Darkneſs in Verſe, and the continuer of every Diſpute that has been kept up for any time in Proſe. The various Appearances of words, Philypſus, ſhould not be multiplied unneceſſarily; the Reader is apt to be diſtracted between ſo many Lights: and in ſuch a Variety may follow the falſe, as well as the true.

I have obſerv'd this particularly in Words deriv'd from other Languages: Theſe, you know, often prevail among [...]s very differently from their native ſignification. The Latin ſenſe perhaps is [...]ne thing, and the Engliſh uſe another: When this has obtain'd univerſally, we [...]ught not to run back to the Latin b [...]enſe of the word, in our uſe of it. If [...]ou ſhould, the Learn'd themſelves may [...]ot readily fall into your meaning, and [...]he Unlearn'd will inevitably miſtake it.

It may be enquir'd too, how far this Tranſlation, may make a wrong uſe of Terms borrow'd from any of the Arts [...]nd Sciences: As where we read of Architraves, [26] Colonnades, and the like. I would not produce theſe as undoubted faults in the Poetical Stile: tho' the baniſhing all Technical Words, be laid down by ſome Criticks as a Rule never to be tranſgreſs'd; I ſhould imagine they might be admitted in ſome Caſes; even where there is not that abſolute neceſſity, either of uſing them, or loſing the Senſe of the Original.

Will not the very thing, on which the Rule is founded, allow the departing from it ſometimes? "That the Poet writes to all Mankind in general; And "That h [...] ſhould avoid all appearance of Labour, a [...] well as Affectation, is very true; and very good reaſons they are for his not uſing Technical Words, while they carry difficulty and an Air of Affectation abou [...] them: But if ſuch words ever happen to be perfectly Familiarized by the Writing of former Poets, or become of commo [...] Uſe in the World, I ſhould think the [...] have the ſame Right to be admitted int [...] Poetry (and if not mean, the ſame propriety) as any other Words, the moſt obvious and intelligible. Any one may diſtinguiſh their greater, or leſs fitneſs, o [...] this Account, in the deſcription of Al [...] nous's Palace: in which there are ſever [...] Inſtances, both of Terms familiariz' [...] [27] and of ſuch as are leſs allowable, under one and the ſame view:

The Front appear'd with radiant ſplendors gay,
Bright as the lamp of Night, or orb of Day.
The walls were maſſy braſs: the Cornice high
Blue metals crown'd, in colours of the sky:
Rich plates of gold the folding-doors incaſe;
The pillars ſilver, on a brazen baſe;
Silver the Lintels deep-projecting o'er,
a And gold the ringlets that command the door.

Some of theſe Terms are certainly allowable; And you will think perhaps I carry the matter too far in another Point, which may ſeem as allowable to the full. You muſt know, I am apt to imagine, that not only the more difficult Terms of Art, but even ſuch Words as are b [...]ſurp'd more particularly in any ſingle [28] Province, may become leſs fit to be uſed in Common. If ſo, it may require caution in inſerting ſome, that are appropriated to particular Perſons or Things; Many that are us'd much in the Profeſſions, eſpecially in the Scholaſtick way of Diſtinctions: and all in general that are perplex'd, or not to be underſtood without Difficulty.

I'm afraid I have tired you, Philypſus, with ſuch a ſtring of dry Obſervations; they muſt have their Turn in a view of this Nature; and to omit what is Neceſſary, for fear of an imputation of Pedantry, is perhaps the worſt Pedantry one can be guilty of.

Give me leave to enlarge more upon the Abuſe of Epithets, as I did befor [...] upon the Uſe of them. 'Tis the ſame with theſe, Philypſus, as with all other Ornaments of Speech; their being ſo very ſerviceable, may lead to a large [...] Uſe of them than is proper: but there is this Advantage too; the very thing which makes them ſo ſtrong and beautifull, will help to diſcover any Error in their Application. They are each connected ſo immediately to their Subject, that their Impropriety, as well as Agreement, is very eaſily diſcern'd.

[29] On a this Account, we ſhould be the more cautious how we mix the Epithets of the Proper, with any Metaphorical Expreſſions: Theſe, for the Time change their Nature, and may ſignifie things very different from what they ſtood for before. That Metaphor, which puts the Name of a Place or Country for its Inhabitants, is reckon'd a great and agreeable one; but wherever it is uſed, we muſt remember it ſtands now for Men, and is not to be conſider'd in its proper [...]tate, as a Part of the Earth. If its old Epi [...]hets are ſtill applied to it, the Senſe muſt [...]e diſagreeing and confus'd.

I fear we meet with ſomething of this [...]here Penelope complains of the Numbers [...]nd Importunity of her Suitors: after [...]his manner:

Zacynthus green with ever-ſhady groves,
[...]nd Ithaca, preſumptuous boaſt their loves;
[...]truding on my choice a ſecond Lord
[...] They preſs the Hymenaean rite.—

[30] Longinus, a ſomewhere in his Treatiſe on the ſublime, gives us an inſtance of this ſort of Metaphor, from Herodotus, where that Hiſtorian is ſpeaking of a very moving Tragedy, at the Acting of which, the Theatre burſt into tears: This the Critick judges to be ſo taking, from the ſurprize that Turn of Expreſſion carries with it. The Metaphor itſelf has certainly ſomething great in it: But had Herodotus join'd ſome of its proper Epithets or Deſcription with this Mataphor, and ſaid, that ‘The Theatre, raiſed all o [...] Columns of the Corinthian Order, burſt into Tears at the deepneſs of the Tragedy’ Longinus might have thought the paſſage more Surprizing, but I dare ſay he would not have thought it ſo worthy of hi [...] Commendation.

To mix theſe things in a Deſcription is really as Abſurd, as to paint a River [...]God, not with his Urn, to ſignifie wha [...] he is; but guſhing all over into Streams [...] like ſome of the odd Figures in Ovid' [...] Metamorphoſis: and by the way, it ma [...] be a very good b Rule that is given, [...] try mixt Metaphors at any time; b [...] forming in one's Mind a Picture, fro [...] what is ſaid; and conſidering how th [...] [31] Parts of it would agree, were they delineated upon Canvaſs.

There is another diſagreement in Epithets, when two Expreſſions, proper in themſelves, are yet join'd together improperly. After a great Slaughter we may very well have a Notion of Heaps, or (as it is in the Poetical language) Mountains of the Slain; 'tis natural on the ſame Occaſion to imagine to ourſelves their Wounds, and the blood ebbing out of them: theſe are very proper ſeparately; but to join them under the Notion of a a Bleeding Mountain does not look ſo reconcileable to the Mind.

An Error yet more frequent is, when we give a word that Epithet, which is proper to it on ſome Occaſions, indifferently at all times, and without any Occaſion.

This, in ſome Meaſure, has been always allowable in Verſe: however ſuch a Liberty is not without its bounds, nor ſhould it be uſed intemperately. Purple (for inſtance) is an Epithet very frequent in the Ancient Poets for the Habit of Princes: yet it is not to be given to that of all Great Men; nor of Princes equally, [32] whether a young or old; nor of the very ſame Prince, under ſeveral Circumſtances: tho' a Remark of this kind may ſeem inſignificant, an Impropriety in this Caſe might be very groſs and ſhocking.

Again: What is proper in one Language, may not be ſo in another. Was any one to Tranſlate the purpureis Oloribus of Horace, Purple Swans, would not he be ſo Literal, as to miſs the Senſe of his Author entirely?

There may be another Impropriety from the difference of time and circumſtances: It may do very well to give the Epithet of browzing, to a Goat; or grazing, to the Ox: it helps to deſcribe them in the Fields, or to diſtinguiſh them from ſome other Creatures; and if neither of theſe, at leaſt it gives the Language a Poetical Air: Yet theſe Epithets have ſome reſtraints, they belong to Life and Action; they do not ſuit with thoſe very Creatures, when Dead; and leſs ſo, when they are cut out in the Shambles, or ſerv'd up at a Feaſt: this is the Caſe in a Paſſage relating to Penelope's Suitors; they,

[33]
—A Luxurious race, indulge their cheer;
Devour the grazing Ox and browzing Goat,
a And turn the generous Vintage down their throat.

As Epithets ſhould be proper to the Things, or Perſon, they are ſpoken of; ſo muſt we take Care that they are ſtill proper to the Metaphors we add; and in Allegory, not to confound the Epithets of the Real, with thoſe of the Fictitious Perſon.

In the Preface to the Iliad b we have an Excellent Diſtinction to this Purpoſe, on a known c Epithet of Apollo; ‘Which (as we are there told) is capable of two Explications; One Literal, in reſpect of the Darts and Bow, the Enſigns of that God; the other Allegorical, with regard to the Rays of the Sun: therefore in ſuch Places, where Apollo is repreſented as a God in Perſon, I would uſe the former Interpretation; and where the Effects of the Sun are deſcrib'd, I wou'd make Choice of the latter.’ You ſee the juſtneſs of the Obſervation: it may ſerve to explain my Meaning better than I could expreſs it my ſelf.

[34] 'Tis Evident, by the Way, that Mr. Pope form'd this Obſervation upon his Experience in the Progreſs of that Tranſlation: This appears from the firſt Part of that Work, in which we ſometimes find the Properties and Effects of the Sun, blended with the perſonal Act [...] of Apollo: thus it is in the firſt Appearance of that Deity in the Poem. I ſhal [...] read the Paſſage to You, tho' ſomething long: it begins with that beautiful line [...]

Silent * he wander'd by the ſounding Shore:
Till ſafe at diſtance to his God he prays,
That God, who da [...]ts around the World his rays.
O Smintheus ſprung from fair Latona's line,
Thou guardian power of Cill [...] the Divine,
Thou ſource of Light [...] whom T [...]n [...]dos adores.
And whoſe bright preſence gilds thy Chryſa's ſhore [...]
God of the Silver bow! thy Shafts employ,
a Avenge thy ſervant, and the Greeks deſtroy.

The Original here does not once Attribute any thing to the Deity but wha [...] is perſonal: 'tis certain the Sun and i [...] Effects are hid under this Allegory but then they muſt be hid; for ſo far a it appears, it will ceaſe to be Allegor [...] Homer never mixes ſhadows and reality and as Mr. Pope perceiv'd this in his goin [...] on with the Poem, I preſume he bui [...] upon it that excellent Obſervation.

[35] Any mixture of this Nature is more evident in Epithets, for that obvious Reaſon I mention'd before. And thus, you ſee, there are Inconveniences attend each Method of improving the Poetical Diction; and that the danger bears ſome Proportion to the Excellence. Where the fineſt Colourings are moſt viſible, the [...]aulty ſtrokes of the Pencil are the ſooner perceiv'd: and when we meet with the greateſt Improvements in a Piece, we muſt [...]ot imagine it to be wholly without de [...]ect. Of all Doctrines, I ſhall never hold [...]hat, which ſuppoſes any Man to be In [...]allible: and of all Men, the Poet of a [...]rue, free, glowing Spirit, muſt naturally [...]e incapable of that Character. No, [...]hilypſus, the moſt correct Writer is he, [...]hat has the feweſt Faults: and he is the [...]bleſt Poet, that has moſt diſtinct Excel [...]encies.

You need not repeat, ſays Philypſus, [...]hat you have throughly convinc'd me [...]f long ſince. Yes, 'tis the a Condi [...]on of every human Performance not to [...]e abſolutely perfect. I can allow of ſee [...]g Faults in any the moſt favourite Piece: [...]nd find a freſh and greater Pleaſure every [36] Day in reading an Author without that Biaſs, which uſed to make me admire every thing I read. Yet I muſt own my Infirmity to you; I ſtill find it very Difficult to arrive to that Indifference, you would perſwade, in any Tolerable degree.

A perfect Indifference (anſwer'd Antiphaus) is no more attainable, than a perfect Excellence, by a Creature made up of ſo many Paſſions, as is Man. We muſt poiſe ourſelves with all the Steadineſs we [...]re Maſters of; and when thoſe Diſturbers will be interfering, the beſt way is to turn their own Artillery upon them: and to play one Paſſion againſt another. If the ſuperiour Merit of a Writer, or his engaging Way, is apt to captivate us ſo far as to raiſe any partial regards in us; we muſt ſtop, and Conſider what we owe to Truth, the moſt beautifull and commanding thing in the World: On the contrary, where-ever we begin to feel a malicious Pleaſure in finding out the Faults of great Men, we muſt break off that humour as ſoon as perceiv'd, by turning immediately to ſome of the fineſt Paſſages in their Works, and indulging that Delight and Admiration they raiſe in us.

I do thus (reply'd Philypſus) and yet it is but too frequently that I find my ſelf [37] more engag'd than I ought to be, after all my Endeavours: How happy ſhould I be, cou'd I have that command of my Temper, which Antiphaus ſhews upon all Occaſions.

If you have obſerv'd any thing in me of that Nature (ſays Antiphaus, interrupting him) it is chiefly owing to the Obſervance of this Rule, ‘When we are thinking of any particular Paſſage, to forget the Character of the Author: and when we are ſpeaking of the Character of the Author, to forget the Turn of any particular Paſſage.’ Our Notion of a Poem is not to be influenc'd [...]y a few Lines, taken here and there [...]rom it: the only thi [...]g by which it can [...]e juſtly determin'd is the Ballance of the Account, after reckoning up all its Beau [...]es and all its Defects againſt one ano [...]her. I mean, not only as to their Num [...], but according to the real Value, or [...]oy that is in them. But what am I [...]oing, Philypſus? to talk at this rate, [...]hile I might be enjoying your Obſer [...]tions?—The things I have heard you [...]eak of at Different Times, make me [...]ng to ſee them in one collected View. [...]e are here ſafe from the Impertinence [...] Buſineſs, or Viſits: and may enjoy [...]r ſelves at Large, without being inter [...]pted by either.

[38] I am ſenſible (anſwer'd Philypſus, after a ſhort pauſe) that what you particularly mean, is the Improvements in Mr. Pope's Tranſlation, from the many Figures and Variations added in that Work: but as I am not prepared for a regular Account of them, You will give me leave to mention them juſt as they come into my Thoughts. My happineſs is, that I ſpea [...] to ſo generous a Friend: I know Antiphaus too well to make Apologies fo [...] the Weakneſs of my Obſervations, o [...] the looſe manner in which I may lay my Thoughts before him.

To be Clear and not to be Mea [...] is the great Excellence of Languag [...] A Stile that is made up wholly of proper Words, will be the cleareſt of any but at the ſame Time it will neceſſaril [...] be mean: On the Contrary, the i [...] prov'd figurative Stile is great, but [...] it be Crowded every where with F [...] gures and new Terms, it muſt gro [...] dark and barbarous.

If this Rule be juſt, as it has ever be [...] allow'd to be (quite down from the Gre [...] Father of Criticiſm at Athens, to tho who Flouriſh now in the Academy [...] Paris) all Additional Figures in th [...] [39] Tranſlation, which neither darken nor perplex the Senſe, are ſo many new Beauties and Improvements upon the Original.

For my part I ſhould not ſtick at carrying this Point farther. I ſhould imagine, That Figures are the Language of the Paſſions. The Body it ſelf is agitated, and our Features diſcompos'd, when the Mind is ſtruck violently with any Object: and if we ſpeak upon ſuch Occaſions, 'tis with rapidity and diſorder. We [...]ourſt out into Exclamations: our Senti [...]ents are quick and violent; and our Language interrupted frequently with [...]uddain Starts, and as ſuddain Pauſes. Things appear then more ſtrong and [...]argely to the Mind; and we paint them [...] more expreſſive Colours, with a greater [...]nergy of Words. 'Tis this way of [...]eaking, that gave riſe to what the Cri [...]cks afterwards call'd Figures. Theſe [...]re the beautiful Diſorders of Language; [...]ey are in our Words what ſuddain Agi [...]tions are in our Minds; and tho' we [...]ay think them chiefly the effect of Art, [...]ey are really the moſt natural things [...] Poetry.

When we are ſtruck ſuddainly with [...]y or Sorrow, Hopes or Fears, we [...]eak out in a ſhort quick manner of [40] Expreſſion.—Ulyſſes, in the Habit of a ſtranger, finds the good old Laertes ever ſorrowing for his Abſence, and bu [...]ying himſelf in his Garden, to divert the melancholly of his Thoughts. The Hero does not diſcover himſelf immediately; only juſt mentions to him, that he had ſeen Ulyſſes in his Travels. That is the point Laertes fixes upon: This Iſland you are landed upon (ſays he) is Ithaca;

But tell me Stranger, be the Truth confeſs'd,
What years have circled ſince thou ſaw'ſt that gueſt?
That hapleſs gueſt, alas! for ever gone!
Wretch that [...]e was! and that I am! my Son!
If ever Man to miſery was born,
a 'Twas his to ſuffer, and 'tis mine to mourn [...]

Ul [...]ſſes in his Anſwer informs him where he had met with his Son; and that when the [...] parted, he [...]latter'd himſelf with ho [...]es of ſeeing him again; but now, he found, he muſt deſpair of that happineſs This was too much for Laertes to bear [...] we ſee him overcome with Sorrow. 'Tis now Ulyſſes's turn to be agitated, and t [...] ſpeak his Paſſions in the ſame impetuou [...] manner:

He ran, he ſeiz'd him with a ſtrict embrace [...]
With thouſand kiſſes wander'd o'er his face [...]
"I, I am he; Oh Father riſe! Behold,
"b Thy ſon!—

[41] I can ſcarce leave the pleaſure I take in repeating theſe Paſſages only to tell you, that they are extremely improv'd by Mr. Pope. No one will imagine how much, that has not compar'd them with the Original.

You ſee theſe Paſſions break out in ſhort violent Flaſhes: ſometimes they are ſo ſtrong as to permit no more than one word or two. When Euryclea by accident diſcovers Ulyſſes, ſhe can only cry out a My Son!—My King!—And where any go farther, they rather hint at things, than mention them: Their Thoughts are [...]ull of ſtarts, and hurry; they ſpeak with vehemence; and often end abruptly. Thus Ulyſſes, when he diſcovers himſelf [...]o Telemachus:

I am thy Father. O my Son! my Son!
That Father, for whoſe ſake thy days have run
b One ſcene of woe. &c.—

And in another place, from a different Paſſion:

O curſt event! and Oh unlook'd for aid!
[...]anthius, or the women have betray'd—
[...] Oh my Dear Son!—

[42] Theſe paſſionate Breaks are one of the fineſt things in Poetry. They are as natural in Anger, as they are in Sorrow or Suprizes; and indeed in the former are proper ſooner, and upon leſs motives far, than in theſe. I know not how it is, they have a particular aptneſs in all Threats; and either intimate very ſtrongly, or are very well fill'd up with ſom [...] menacing Action:

This choice is left you to reſiſt or die;
a And die I truſt, Ye ſhall.—

Or, as in the Nineteenth Book,

Vagrant be gone! before this blazing brand
b Shall urge—and wav'd it hiſſing in her hand [...]

You have puzzled me, ſays Antiphaus Now for my Life can't I tell which to approve of moſt, the expreſſing, or the i [...] timating the Action in ſuch Caſes: th [...] requires the greateſt ſtrength in the Poe [...] and the other has greater force in h [...] Performance. Oh, give me leave to me [...] tion one thing—Have you not obſerv [...] a Larger ſort of Break, which is uſ [...] artificially in a Poem, to incite the A [...] tention of the Reader? I mean, wh [...] [43] the Narration is dropt in the moſt engaging parts of it, or juſt before ſome very material Incident: This adds a double deſire of hearing: the Audience generally make it their Requeſt, that the Speaker would go on, and inform them of the Sequel. Thus it is in the Eleventh Odyſſey. Ulyſſes in the midſt of his Account of the Infernal Regions a makes a feint of concluding: we are immediately told, that the Phaeacians were eager to hear him on; and 'tis obſervable, that the very b ſame Break, and the very ſame Sentiment after it, is imitated by Virgil. 'Tis indeed improv'd in the latter: he has all the Uſe of Homer's ſuſpence, without the Tediouſneſs of it.

I have often taken notice of this Arti [...]ice, ſays Philypſus. 'Tis very uſual in the Cloſe of the particular Books, not only of this Poem, but equally of the Iliad and Aeneid.—Were it not a thing pretty obvious in itſelf, I ſhould be apt to imagine, that it was from this practice of Homer and Virgil, that thoſe prudent [44] Authors, who write for Sale, had learnt what is ſo common among them: Thus in our Books of Adventures and Romance, we ſeldom meet with a Firſt Part, which does not break off in ſuch a point of the Story, as may be moſt apt to engage the Expectation of the Reader; and to draw him in for that moſt tedious thing in the World, vulgarly call'd, A Second Part.

There is yet another ſort of Breaks, Antiphaus, which proceed not from the Artifice of the Writer, but the Paſſion he feels upon ſome great or unexpected Calamity. There might be Inſtances of this given from the Poem before us: but we muſt go to another Piece of Mr. Pope's for the fineſt that ever I met with in my Life. 'Tis in his Charming Ode on Muſick, where he is ſpeaking of that great Maſter of it, Orpheus:

a See wild as the winds o'er the mountains he [...]lies,
Hark Haemus refounds with the Bacchinals cries!
—Ah, ſee! he dies.

Thoſe Paſſions, which break off our Language in this manner, and confine it to ſhort catches and ſtarts; when they are wrought up to the higheſt pitch, or croud in many of them together upon [45] the Mind, are beſt expreſt by Silence. Such Silences as theſe (pardon me a Paradox as old as a Pythagoras his times) are the voice of Nature. 'Tis true in the common Method of ſpeaking, there are only a few particular Organs concern'd: but in ſtronger Emotions, in the violence of any Paſſion, the whole Body may be talkative. Every Look, and Turn, and Motion is ſignificant; and each Nerve can have its ſhare in making up (what our Shakeſpear calls) A kind of Excellent Dumb Diſcourſe.

To be more plain: Our Paſſions are often too ſtrong to be expreſs'd immediately by words; they often choak up the paſſage for them: and yet at the ſame time they are moſt apparent. The more any one is a ſtranger to art and diſguiſes, the more is he moved on theſe Occaſions: theſe Silences are the pure effects of Nature; and the Deſcriptions of them are ſome of the moſt natural, as well as moſt beautiful Paſſages in the whole Poem.

[46] The Recovery of Ul [...]ſſes is the Incident of the greateſt concern to all his Friends, and muſt be attended with the ſtrongeſt flow of Paſſion in them: accordingly they are each too much mov'd with the diſcovery, to utter their Sentiments on that Occaſion. Telemachus is the firſt to whom Ulyſſes makes himſelf known: He falls on his Father's Neck, and they continue embracing each other, without ſpeaking a for a conſiderable time.—We have a like Scene, b when he diſcovers himſelf to two or three ſelect Friends: Good old Laertes, on the ſame Occaſion is not only ſilent, but ſcarce c able to ſupport himſelf, under ſuch an exceſs of Paſſion, And the fond, tender Penelope, is quite overcome with it:

d She ſickens, trembles, falls, and faints away.

A Great Surprize, or Extraordinary Fright, has the ſame Effect: as in Homer's e Eurylochus, and the Sir Treviſan of Spencer, which the e Notes mention as a Parallel to Eurylochus. Never was any Image ſet in a fuller Light than this of Spencer's: 'tis preſented to our View [47] with all the ſtrength that Poetry is capable of. I muſt beg leave to read it to you.

He anſwer'd nought at all, but adding new
Fear to his firſt amazement, ſtaring wide
With ſtony eyes, and heartleſs hollow hue,
Aſtoniſh'd ſtood, as one that had eſpy'd
Infernal furies with their chains unty'd:
Him yet again, and yet again beſpake
The gentle Knight; who nought to him reply'd
But trembling every joint, did only quake.

Admirable Imagery! and admirable Silence! cry'd Antiphaus. But I hope you will not be ſo poſſeſs'd with the excellence of our Poet, as to forget a the Ajax of Homer; whom Ulyſſes beſpeaks again, and yet again, without any Anſwer at all? Or perhaps this has been obſerv'd upon ſo often, that you think it needleſs to repeat its Beauties: I don't queſtion but you admire it very much. I do ſo (anſwer'd Philypſus) and agree entirely with the Obſervation. b ‘That Ajax has more the air of Grandeur when he ſays nothing, than when the Poet makes him ſpeak.’

Mr. Pope does not only follow Homer very finely, wherever he has led the Way [...]n theſe beautiful Figures; he ſometimes [48] heightens, and ſometimes adds them with a great deal of Propriety. Every one ſees how unwilling Calypſo is to part with Ulyſſes: But the Command of Jove muſt be obey'd: and the ſame fondneſs which makes her look on the departure of that Hero with extreme regret, engages her, at the ſame time, to aſſiſt him in the conveniences for it. She is always directing him, when employ'd; and when not, ſecretly diſſwading him from his Voyage. We ſee her buſy, even to Officiouſneſs, in bringing him the Inſtruments for his Work: guiding him to the Foreſt, and ſhewing what Trees are fitteſt for his Purpoſe:

a On the lone Iſlands utmoſt verge there ſtood
Of poplars, pines, and firs, a lofty wood,
Whoſe leafleſs ſummits to the skies aſpire,
Scorch'd by the ſun, or ſear'd by heavenly f [...]re.
Already dry'd.—Theſe pointing out to view,
The nymph juſt ſhew'd him, and with tears withdrew.

This is much better expreſs'd than in the Original: indeed there we ſcarce diſcern that it is a paſſionate Silence. Improvements of this kind, Antiphaus, are the more to be valu'd, becauſe there is not any one thing in Poetry of greater Beauty and Energy. The Criticks look [49] upon it as the moſt a ſublime, unuſual part of Eloquence: and 'tis none of its leaſt Advantages, that it hits that excellent Rule they give us, Of b Leaving ſome things for the Audience to perceive of themſelves: Tho' it be not told him, every Man very eaſily finds out the heightning of ſuch a Circumſtance; and is ſure to value it the more, becauſe he finds it out himſelf. In ſhort, theſe are Maſterly ſ [...]rokes, and few hands arrive to them in their true Excellence. Tho' it requires the greateſt Art and Judgment to introduce it, the Writer when he has choſe the proper Point, ſeems to be put to no pains to rule our Affections: he governs all our Paſſions without the Labour of Words; and looks as Archimedes would [...]o one's fancy, moving the whole Wor [...]d, while he ſits ſtill himſelf.

Suſpence and Doubt have ſomething of this Figure intermixt with them. A Speaker heſitating and unreſolv'd, is in [...] State of Half-ſilence: As we ſee the former poetical Silence is obſerv'd in H [...]mer every time Ulyſſes diſcovers himſelf [50] to any of his nearer Friends; ſo is there a mixture of this Doubtfulneſs alſo in each of thoſe Interviews: Thus Telemachus, on that Occaſion;

Thou art not—no, thou can'ſt not be my Sire;
Heaven ſuch illuſion only can impoſe
a By the falſe joy to aggravate my woes.

The Unravelling of the Doubt is what ſtrikes us moſt, both in Laertes and Penelope: in the latter Caſe, this is deferr'd for too long a time: However as they are, they afford us ſome of the moſt pathetick Paſſages in the whole Poem. In what an affecting Manner does Laertes appear to us juſt at the point of his being convinc'd, that the Stranger he is converſing with, is his Son?

Smit with the ſigns which all his doubts explain,
His heart within him melts; his knees ſuſtain
Their feeble weight no more [...] his arms alone
Support him, round the lov'd Ulyſſes thrown [...]
He faints, he ſinks with mighty joys oppreſt:
Ulyſſes claſps him to his eager breaſt.
Soon as returning Life regains its ſeat,
And his breath lengthens, and his pulſes beat;
Yes, I believe, he cries: Almighty Jove!
Heaven rules us yet, and Gods there are above.
b 'Tis ſo.—

[51] As to Penelope: Where a modern would have been overjoy'd, and caught immediately at an Occaſion for ſo many raptures, the Greek Poet chuſes rather to ſhew her Prudence, than her Paſſion. I believe every body will agree, that this ſtill Interval is not ill-choſen: the fault of it is, its being carried through too many Lines. The Queen, no doubt, ſtruggled hard all the while; She had difficulty enough in reſtraining herſelf; And the moment ſhe is convinc'd, ſhe is all Tenderneſs and Paſſion.

While yet he ſpeaks, her powers of life decay,
She ſickens, trembles, falls and faints away:
At length recovering to his arms ſhe flew,
And ſtrain'd him cloſe, as to his breaſt ſhe grew;
The tears pour'd down amain: And oh, ſhe cries,
Let not againſt thy Spouſe thine anger riſe!
O vers'd in every turn of human art,
Forgive the weakneſs of a woman's heart—
O let me, let me not thine anger move,
That I forbore—thus—thus—to ſpeak my love;
Thus in fond kiſſes, while the tranſport warms,
Pour out my Soul, and die within thy arms!—
a I yield, I yield! my own Ulyſſes lives.

This unravelling of a Doubt is generally follow'd by what is the moſt contrary to it of any thing in the World, Precipitation. To doubt of any happy [52] Circumſtance, is to fear that it ſhould not prove true. When we are agitated by the Expectation of ſome Bliſs, we long to indulge that Flow of Spirits which it Occaſions; only ſome particular Caution forces us to reſtrain them in the midſt of their Career: The moment our Doubt is clear'd, and the Obſtacle remov'd, they ruſh on with the greater Violence and Impetuoſity. Then are our Words quick and vehement; We ſpeak ſhort, and faſt; A Thouſand things We want to ſay, and are ſo eager we don't know which of them to ſay firſt. I know nothing in Muſick that ſtrikes me equally to thoſe ſudd [...]in Pauſes, when the Conſort ſtops at [...]nce; and after the ſtill Interval breaks out unexpectedly into a full Tumult of Harmony. This Pauſe, and the Impetuouſneſs that ſucceeds upon it, [...] the caſe (to carry on a Scene, which w [...] have touch'd upon twice or thrice already) when Telemachus recognizes his Father: Telemachus wants to know ever [...] thing at once; and Ulyſſes wants to te [...] him every thing as faſt:

All, All, Ulyſſes inſtant made reply,
a I tell thee All, my Son!—

[53] Such an Hurry of Spirits, the more violent it is, makes us ſpeak in the more broken and interrupted manner. You always ſee that a Croud is the longeſt in getting out of a place, where they are in the greateſt Haſte, and preſs moſt. When the Paſſions are leſs diſturb'd, they go in Train, and follow one another eaſily; but if they move all of them for a Paſſage at the ſame time, they hinder one another: This ſort of Precipitation, [...]s very well expreſs'd in Penelope, upon [...]eceiving Telemachus after his Voyage:

Few words ſhe ſpoke, tho' much ſ [...]e had to ſay,
[...]d ſcarce thoſe few for tears cou'd force their way.
[...]ight of my Eyes! He comes!—Unhop'd-for Joy!
[...]s Heaven from Pylos brought my lovely Boy?
[...]ſnatch'd from all our cares! Tell, haſt thou known
a Thy Fathers Fate, and tell me all thy Own.

You cannot imagine, Antiphaus, the [...]ll heightning of this Paſſage, without [...]omparing it with the Original: 'Tis [...]e ſame caſe in moſt that I have menon'd; They are ſome of the juſteſt Im [...]ovements in the Poem; as well as In [...]nces of the beſt ſort of Figures, ſuch [...] ſhew the Paſſions of the Mind in a [...]ong and lively manner. There are other, [54] which the Poet makes uſe of, ſometimes to raiſe and diverſify his Language; ſometimes to give ſtronger Colours to the things he deſcribes; And ſometimes to engage or poſſeſs his Readers. I need not enter into a long Enquiry concerning the more known Figures of either kind; but ſhall touch upon one or two, which as yet have not been introduc'd by the Criticks into their Syſtems.

Poetical Prophecy, is when we acquain [...] the Reader before-hand of ſome Events which will happen in the Progreſs of th [...] Poem: Prevention is when we ſpeak o [...] ſuch things, yet to come, as if they we [...] already preſent. Prevention gives an u [...] common Greatneſs and Energy to th [...] Language: It places diſtant Actions fu [...] before our Eyes; and carries a certa [...] Boldneſs and Aſſurance with it, that very becoming: The other is of gre [...] Strength in poſſeſſing and captivating t [...] Reader; We love to look on into Fut [...] rity: Thus it flatters the Powers a [...] Capacity of our own Minds, at the ſa [...] time that it gives an Air of Super [...] Knowledge and Authority to the Poe [...]

From the Invocation of the Muſe the entrance to his Poem, the Poet h [...] a Right of Prophecying; and it mig [...] be [...]rtly from this, that the Name [55] Prophet and Poet has in ſome Languages been us'd in common. But tho' he may, and does, prophecy in Perſon, things of this Nature are uſually introduc'd from others: as from Superior Beings; from Prieſts and Augurs; from a Perſons in the other State, or juſt at the b Point of Departing from this. This latter Method perhaps may carry the greater Sanction with it; but the other is the more Poetical.

Some of the ſtrongeſt Speeches in Homer and Virgil are deliver'd after this manner, by Men of the Prophetick Character; It is to this Figure (if you will give me leave to call it ſo) that the Sixth Book of the Aeneid, and the Fourth of the Odyſſey owe the greateſt ſhare of their Beauty. Even the frightful Raptures of Theoclymenus, and the Harpye of Virgil, engage the Reader with a ſort of pleaſing Terrour. There is ſomething horribly delightful in theſe Lines.

Floating in gore, portentous to ſurvey!
In each diſcolour'd vaſe the Viands lay:
Then down each cheek the Tears ſpontaneous flow
And ſuddain Sighs precede approaching woe.
[56] In viſion rapt, the * Hyper [...]ſian Seer
Up-roſe, and thus divin'd the Vengeance near.
O Race to Death devote! with Stygian ſhade
Each deſtin'd Peer impending Fates invade:
With tears your wan diſtorted cheeks are drown'd,
With ſanguine drops the walls are rubied round [...]
Thick ſwarms the ſpacious hall with howling Ghoſts,
To people Orcus, and the burning Coaſts [...]
Nor gives the Sun his golden O [...]b to roll,
a But univerſal Night uſu [...]ps the Pole!

I beg pardon (ſays Antiphaus) but the Speech of Theoclymenus is a particular Favourite of mine: and now you repeat it in Engliſh, I ſeem to want ſomething of that ſtrong Pleaſure it uſed to afford me, Where the Greek ſpeaks b Of the Su [...] being periſht out of Heaven, and of Darkneſs ruſhing over the Earth; I cannot expreſs the Fulneſs of the Words—But you know the Original; and I fear will never ſee a Tranſlation equal it. This whole Prophetical Viſion of the Fall of the Suitors is the True Sublime: and, in particular, gives us an higher Orientaliſm, than we meet with in any other part of Homer's Writings. You will pardon me a new Word, where we have no old one to my Purpoſe: You know what [57] I mean; That Eaſtern way of expreſſing R [...]volutions in Government, by a Confuſion or Extinction of Light in the Heavens. It is this manner of Thinking which works up that Speech the neareſt of any to thoſe noble Paſſages in holy Scripture; a ‘I will ſhew Wonders in the Heavens and in the Earth, Blood and Fire, and Pillars of Smoak; the Sun ſhall be turn'd into Darkneſs, and the Moon into Blood.—b I will cauſe the Sun to go down at Noon, and I will darken the Earth in the clear Day.—c All the bright Lights of Heaven will I make Dark over thee, and ſet Darkneſs upon thy Land.’

I have often wondered, Philypſus, at ſome particular Perſons, who are ever raviſh'd with any thing of the Sublime in common Authors, and yet ſeem to have no taſte for the fineſt touches of this kind, thoſe which are ſo frequent in our ſacred Writings. With what Greatneſs, and Sublimity, do they abound? Such, as might perſwade, that weare not only bleſt with Inſtructions, but favour'd too with a Language from Heaven. Thoſe ſacred Pages want only to be read with [...] common regard, that all Men might acknowledge them to contain the greateſt [58] Maſter-pieces of Eloquence. Yes, Philypſus, it is there, that Eloquence ſit [...] beſide the Throne of Truth, in all he [...] nobleſt Attire, and with a Look, tha [...] ſtrikes us at once with Reverence and Delight. I long to expatiate on ſo gloriou [...] a Subject: but perhaps we may find [...] time of joining together in ſome View o [...] this Nature: There has been a very goo [...] a Example ſet the World this laſt Summer; and if ever we ſhould follow i [...] and enter thoroughly into this ſort [...] Criticiſm, I dare ſay it will make an [...] other kind look poor and inſipid, whe [...] compared with it.—But at preſent [...] are in another Sphere; and I have alrea [...] interrupted you too much.—

Philypſus, deſirous as he was to laun [...] immediately into thoſe noble Depths [...] Eloquence, comply'd for the preſent, a [...] return'd to the point in hand. ‘My l [...] Inſtance from the Odyſſey prevents wh [...] I had deſign'd for the next; You [...] it ſpeaks all along of future things, [...] if they were actually preſent.’ Theo [...] menus has the whole fact paſſing ſucceſſi [...] ly before his Eyes: The Deſtruction [...] the Suitors is pictur'd in his Mind; [...] ſees their blood ſprinkled upon the Wa [...] [59] their bodies floating in Gore, and their [...]ouls ſinking to the Regions of the Dead.

Now I am upon this head of Prophecy [...]nd Prevention, I ſhould be very defective, [...]ere I to omit the other Branch of it; [...]hich takes in all caſes where the Poet [...]orewarns us of Events in his own proper [...]erſon. This is to be found in the very [...]ame point, the Fate of the Suitors; but [...] is not deliver'd with the ſame Air of [...]nthuſiaſm: The Poet is inform'd by the [...]u [...]e of things to come, while the Pro [...]et is poſſeſs'd by Viſion: The know [...]dge of one, is from Inſtruction; of the [...]her, from a ſort of Frantick Poſſeſſion [...] Mind. The Poet therefore antici [...]tes Events with leſs emotions of Lan [...]age; and ſeldom riſes into any fervor, [...]ove what we meet with in theſe Paſſa [...]s:

—Incens'd they ſpoke
[...]hile each to chance aſcrib'd the wondrous ſtroke;
[...]nd as they were—For death even now invades
His deſtin'd prey, and wraps them all in ſhades.

And before:

—In his Soul fond joys ariſe,
[...] his proud hopes already win the prize.
[...]ſpeed the f [...]ying ſhaft thro' every ring,
[...]etch! is not thine: the arrows of the King
Shall end thoſe hopes [...] and fate is on the wing.

[60] You obſerve, Antiphaus, that this Event which is ſo often anticipated by the Poet, is the great Point on which the Completion of his Fable turns: and I believe you may have obſerv'd, that Virgil puts on the Prophetick air, a exactly in the ſame Caſe. Virgil oftentimes improves upon his Maſter: the Circumſtance that introduces that Paſſage in the Aeneid, and the greater diſtance of time, give it a much finer and a nobler Air, than we find in Homer himſelf.

Theſe Figures (for ſo I beg leave to call all unuſual manners of Speech) are of more difficult Obſervation, as they lye out of the common road: I am afraid of wandering too far; and ſhall therefore return very readily to the more beaten Path.

All Paſſions warm the Imagination, and make its Images more ſtrong and ſenſible. It is this, in my Opinion, tha [...] might render Metaphors very proper in the Pathetique: Tho' you and I, perhaps, ſhould not agree entirely on tha [...] Head.

At leaſt this is certain, that the [...] ſtrengthen and enliven the narrative Par [...] of Poetry, beyond any other Metho [...] [61] whatever; when the Poet treats of the moſt common things, he does not treat of them in the common manner:

Fame ſpeaks the Trojans bold, they boaſt the skill,
To give the feather'd arrow wings to kill;
To dart the ſpear, and guide the ruſhing car,
With dreadful inroad thro' the walks of war.

a Strip theſe Lines of the Metaphor, and they loſe their greateſt Force and Beauty. To ſay barely (as it is in the Greek) That the Trojans are good Warriors, that they lanch the Spear, and handle the Arro [...] well; that they manage their Horſes de [...]trouſly, and in general, that they are [...]e [...]y Strong and Succeſsful in Battle: This [...]eclares the whole of the thing; but, with Submiſſion, 'tis more like a Proſe, [...]han a poetical Narration; at leaſt, when compar'd with the ſame Sentiments in [...]hoſe Lines I have juſt repeated.

There are many Innovations of this [...]nd, which make the Engliſh Homer ap [...]ear with Advantage: A naked relation [...]f Fact is enough for Hiſtory; but Poe [...]y requires ſomething more than bare [...]ruth: It has a thouſand ways of rai [...]g and beautifying its Subject: Phoebu [...], [...] the Luminary over which he preſides, [62] does not only ſhew, but ſets a Luſtre too, on every thing he touches: The Poet is not ſo much to declare Events, as to give its Colours and Life to every Action: in doing this, nothing is ſo requiſite as ſtrong animated Figures; as of all Figures the Metaphor affords the moſt ſenſible Strokes, and comes neareſt to the Pencil.

Even in common Caſes they are not without their Beauty: thus in that Enterview between Ulyſſes and Laertes:

Beneath a neighb'ring tree, the chief divine
Gaz'd o'er his Sire, retracing every line,
The ruins of himſelf! now worn away
a With age, yet ſtill majeſtick in decay.

Thus Agamemnon (after all his dangers, murther'd by the hands of Villains in his own Kingdom) is not ſaid barely to die [...] but to end,

b The ſad Evening of a ſtormy life.

When this Figure expreſſes ſome ſtrang [...] Particularity, or includes any magnifying Compariſon, one ſingle Word is ver [...] powerful in raiſing the Narration, an [...] enlarging our Ideas up to the Occaſion

[63]
With dreadful ſhouts Ulyſſes pour'd along [...]
a Swift as an Eagle, as an Eagle ſtrong—
Now by the Sword, and now the Jav'lin fall
b The rebel Race, and Death had ſwallow'd all &c.

I know no Caſe, in which Metaphors of a bold Sound are more proper, than in arrogant Speeches; When Men defy the Gods, or quarrel with the Diſpenſations of Providence. Philaetius in the Od [...]ſſey is no arrogant Character: Yet in one place (upon conſidering the Afflictions of his Prince, whoſe Piety and Virtue he was ſo well aſſur'd of) he falls into a Rant againſt Providence; in which the Language is as lively and vigorous, a [...] the Sentiment is ill-grounded and abſurd:

O Jove! for ever deaf to human cries;
The tyrant, not the father of the skies!
Unpiteous of the race thy will began:
The fool of Fate, thy manufacture, Man,
With penury, contempt, repulſe, and care:
c The gauling load of Life is doom'd to bear.

Theſe Metaphors (which are of that [...]ind we may call The audacious) come [...]ery near the Spirit of Oldham and Dryden; [...]ho undoubtedly, in their Satirical [...]orks, flaſh out into the greateſt Bold [...]eſſes this way of any of our Writers: [...]deed, in both, there are ſome which [64] may come too near to Prophaneneſs: but we muſt always take care not to attribute to the Poet, what he ſpeaks under ſome other Perſon. A Devil is no longer a Devil, unleſs he be haughty, impenitent and blaſpheming: and Dryden is no more to be condemn'd than Milton, for making ſuch impious Spirits ſpeak according to their true Character.

What y [...]u aſſert, I take to be perfectly true, ſays Antiphaus: but were I bleſt with any Genius for Poetry, I own that a ſhocking Impiety ſhould be one of the laſt things I would chuſe to deſcribe. And where it is ch [...]ſen, there is room to be m [...]derate, with [...]ut i [...]juring the Character with t [...]o grea [...] a ſhew [...]f Go [...]dneſs: We ſee that Milton is not ſo groſs, as Dryden: Nor a Virgil ſo blunt, as Homer.

[65] Well, ſays Philypſus, there are other Points which you might chuſe, and which ſerve as well for this ſort of Metaphor: Thus all pious Fra uds, infamous Prieſts, or any prevailing Superſtition. Here the Figure retains much of the audacious Air, without any thing of Impiety in it. Agamemnon indeed goes too far in the Iliad, where he ſeems to neglect Apollo, as well as his Prieſt:

Hence, with thy lawrel crown, and golden rod,
Nor truſt too far thoſe enſigns of thy God:
a Mine is thy daughter, Prieſt—

Here is ſomething of Irreverence to the God, and an evident Injuſtice to Man: [...]nd the Poet very prudently condemns [...]he Speech, before he delivers it in his [...]oem. But there is no ſuch Mark ſ [...]t [...]n one of Hector's; nor does it at all in [...]ringe that Hero's Character, which is [...]emarkably Pious all through the Poem: [...]e is ſpeaking againſt a very popular [...]uperſtition, the Trade of Augury:

Ye Vagrants of the Sky! your wings extend
[...] where the Suns ariſe, or where deſcend;
[...]o right, to left, unheeded take your way,
[...]hile I the dictates of high Heaven obey.
[...]ithout a ſign his Sword the brave man draws,
b And asks no Omen but his Country's cauſe.

[66] This has the audacious Air, becauſe it ſpeaks contemptuouſly of a Practice, which was vulgarly look'd upon as religious and ſacred: and is juſt, becauſe it ſhews at the ſame time the greateſt Reverence to the Gods: He obeys the Dictates of Heaven, but he contemns the Artifices of the Prieſt.

Whatever reſtraints this kind of Metaphor may deſerve, there is another ſort which has always been receiv'd with the greateſt Liberty. The animating Metaphor, tho' the a moſt Sublime, and the moſt Daring of any, except what was laſt mention'd, is very common; and that even in the chaſteſt Poets, and in the fofteſt Pieces. It is this by which we give Action and Spirit to things that are Still and Inſenſible. This will raiſe the meaneſt Points in the World: it may treat meer Names, as if they were Things and Things ſtill and inanimate, as i [...] they had Thought and Action. Wha [...] migh [...] ſeem the moſt ſurpriſing is, tha [...] this method of raiſing things above thei [...] [67] Nature, has nothing of ridiculous in it. We eaſily perceive this to be true: but I own, for my part, I ſhould have been at a loſs for the reaſon of it, had not I met with a a fine Obſervation in Mr. Pope's Appendix to this Work. I wonder now why I cou'd not before perceive, That Ridicule is confin'd to moral Agents, and obtains only where Choice and Freedom is directly concern'd. That this is the Caſe is the more plain; becauſe, even among moral Agents, the very ſame thing, which if brought on by our own Folly, is a certain ſubject for Ridicule; when it proceeds from ſome inevitable Misfortune (or Neceſſity) is the fartheſt from being Ridiculous.

I am pleaſed to ſee that this Figure ſtands on ſuch good reaſon; for it is the very Life and Soul of Deſcription. And might it not be of a larger Uſe, Antiphaus, than has commonly been obſerv'd? It is chiefly mention'd indeed of enlivening things inanimate; Whereas poſſibly it may hold thro' the whole Chain of Beings in the World, as they riſe gradually [...]bove one another. Thus when we attribute any thing of abſolute Perfection to the higheſt Orders of created Beings, [68] any thing which we think Angelical to Man, or any thing like Humanity or Virtue to Beaſts; it might as well be included in this Branch of Metaphor, as when we give the Powers of Motion to things, Still; or Paſſions, to things Inanimate.

Nay, it may even return from the Lower to the Higher; when the Species of a lower Rank, upon the whole, has any a particular Excellence which the higher wants: Or partakes of any b Excellence, which is common to them both, in a greater and more excellent Degree.

But it muſt be obſerv'd, that where this Figure, in its higher Notion, is applied to Intelligents, it muſt not be done with the ſame Indifference; or rather it requires the ſtricteſt Caution.

The Poet is at liberty to attribute Action and Paſſions to any part whatever of the mute Creation: he may make the Woods, or any ſuch Inſenſible, Sympathize with his Grief, with the ſame freedom as any inferiour Animals; we find it thus uſed particularly in all the Paſtorol [69] Writers, whether Ancient or Modern. Every Beaſt may have the Compaſſion of Man; but few Men can ſuſtain the Properties of an Angel: Nothing would make a common Mortal ſo mean and ridiculous, as ſuch an Elevation: the ſame holds in the higher Intelligents; The Firſt of the Angelick Order looks monſ [...]rouſly ridiculous (as well as monſtrouſly impious,) when he would imagine an Equality, where there was an immutable Diſproportion.

However, in ſome Caſes, the Property of an Angel may be given to a Man. The Heathen Poets compare their greater Her [...]'s to their Gods; And when the Chriſtian Poet extols any ſuperiour Ge [...]ius, any Character that has ſomething [...]n it above the common race of Mortals, [...]e may well draw ſome Expreſſions from [...]he Order of Beings next above the Hu [...]an. Had not Mr. Addiſon thought [...]is Juſtif [...]able, we ſhould have loſt one [...]f t [...]e fineſt Amplifications imaginable.

a So when an Angel by Divine command
[...]i [...]h [...]iſ [...]g [...]empeſt [...] ſh [...]ke [...] a guilty land,
[...]uch [...]s of late o'er pal [...] B [...]itannia paſt,
[...]m and ſerene he drives the furious blaſt;
[...]d pleas'd th' Almighty's o [...]ders to perform,
[...]ides in the whirl-wind, and directs the ſtorm.

[70] But whither am I wandring, my Antiphaus? You will think ſuch Flights as theſe too Airy; ſurely, I am got into the Wilds of Criticiſm!—I don't know what the World might think of You at preſent, ſays Antiphaus: but if ever Mr. Dryden's Scheme ſhould take place, and the Poetical Characters of Angels be generally eſtabliſh'd; what you may think the wildeſt of your Flights now, might then be of good Service this way in Poetry.—Be that as it will, ſays Philypſus, I believe I had better draw in my thoughts a little for the preſent; and keep to things, that are more obvious and ſecure. All agree, that the giving Thought to things inſenſible, and human Paſſions to the brute part of the Creation, is equally juſt and beautiful: and at the ſame time nothing is of greater Efficacy in rendring our Sentiments Rais'd and Poetical. That The Sufferings of our Fellow-creatures affec [...] our Souls by a natural Sympathy, is a very good moral Sentence: but the Poet is to Elevate this effect of Miſery; he inveſt [...] her with a ſort of new Being; and the [...] gives her Addreſs and Action. In Poetry our Tears a ſpeak; our Misfortunes ar [...] [71] a Eloquent; and Miſery appears b in Perſon to plead for the diſtreſs'd.

When more uncommon things are transfer'd this way, the Metaphor may be ſafer, if it has ſome grounds in the Fact; tho' it will bear very often without it. 'Tis allowable to repreſent the Sea, as flying back, and aſtoniſh'd, at the terrible (c) Voice of the Cyclops: but 'tis more cloſe to attribute this Fear and Flight to it, when its Waves are d drove aſunder by the ſame Cyclops flinging a Rock into the midſt of it.

Another thing, which made this Fi [...]ure the ſtronger among the Ancients, [...]as their Notion of Genii, or preſiding [...]eities. In particular, there was ſcarce [...] River or Brook amongſt them, but what [...]ad its Genius; and in ſpeaking of theſe [...]he Poets carry this Metaphor farther [...]an in any other caſe whatever. What [...] Appearance does Xanthus and Simois [...]ake in the Battle of Rivers, which [...]kes up the 21ſt Iliad? What a bold [...]raught is that of the Nile, in the Sea [...]ht at Actium, by (e) Virgil? And how [...]uch more Sublime than either, is our [...]ranſlation of the Sacred Writings, [72] where it makes the Deep a utter his voice, and lift up his hands on high?

You may perceive I am run into another Figure: but it is of a kind, ſo nearly allied to the animating Metaphor, that one often finds ſome difficulty in diſtinguiſhing the one from the other. Indeed when any of theſe Perſonages are introduced diſtinctly in full State, then it is ſomething beyond Metaphor; but in ſhort Sketches, it may paſs very well under that Figure. There is nothing but a ſtronger Name adapted to the thing, than its ſtrictly proper Acceptation affords. I think, for inſtance, that we need not ſeek for a new Figure in this Paſſage:

Aw'd by the Prince ſo haughty, brave and young [...]
b Rage gnaw'd the Lip, Amazement chain'd the Tongue:

Or for this:

In every ſorrowing ſoul I pour'd delight,
c And Poverty ſtood ſmiling in my ſight.

In the cloſe of this Poem, the Narration is elevated, by a ſucceſſive Chain of theſe Metaphors, or Fictions, call them which you will. When the Ithacen [...]ians [73] are rang'd in Arms againſt their Prince, 'tis not ſaid, that they ſhall Die, but that a Death attends them in the Field:—To expreſs Ulyſſes's aptneſs to forgive them: b Oblivion is ready to ſtretch her Wings over their Offences: As when they are ſhockt with their Crime, and fling down their Arms, there is this Voice from Heaven to effect it:

Forbear ye Nations! your mad hands forbear
c From mutual ſlaughter. Peace deſcends to ſpare.

Theſe, Antiphaus, are the moſt remarkable things, I have taken notice of, as to the Figures. I could have produc'd a greater number of excellent Lines from this Tranſlation, had not I [...]ndeavour'd chiefly to give ſuch Inſtances [...]s contain'd, at the ſame time, ſome peculiar Improvements in them: You would be ſurprized to ſee how many Beauties [...]hey have, that are wanting in the Ori [...]inal.

Surely they who are the moſt rigid [...]or Cloſe-tranſlating, will allow ſuch beautiful Variations as theſe; which, without loſing the Sentiments of the Ori [...]inal, only ſet a finer Turn upon them. [74] Let them call them, if they pleaſe, glorious Offences, or beautiful Wandrings from the Letter: theſe are ſuch Offences as one would wiſh to ſee more frequent than they are; and of which the beſt Tranſlators are the moſt guilty.

For my part I am particularly pleaſed, when I ſee a Tranſlator reflect new Light upon his Original: where-ever this is done juſtly, it does not alter the Objects; it only makes them more bright and viſible.

I believe, Antiphaus, you will not diſapprove of ſome other Methods, us'd in the Engliſh Odyſſey for this Purpoſe, which I am juſt going to lay before you. Sometimes the Language is rais'd and ſtrengthen'd; ſometimes the Order tranſpos'd to Advantage; in ſeveral Caſes w [...] have Homer's Thoughts inſpirited b [...] collateral Thoughts from other Authors ſome little things are omitted, and ſom [...] ſhort ſtrokes added, to correct the Sentiment, or to heighten the Colours in th [...] Original.

Before you enter upon thoſe Point [...] ſays Antiphaus, give me leave to mentio ſome few things, which look like Bl [...] miſhes, under the Subject you have ju [...] concluded.

[75] It is allow'd, that Metaphors are the moſt uſeful of Figures to raiſe the Poetical Stile, to give their Colour to our Deſcriptions, and a juſt Swelling and Relief to our Images; 'Tis allow'd, that a Tranſlator may add theſe Colours, where the Original is leſs Lively and Expreſſive, than the Subject may very well bear. The Faults then muſt lie, either in the Exceſs, or Impropriety of ſuch Additions. Some things will not bear a ſtrong Light; and others require to be flung into Shades.

Where there is no Occaſion for Figures, they are at beſt only ſo many unneceſſary Ornaments: I cannot ſee why a Quiver full of Arrows ſhould be call'd a A Store of flying Fates; why a Fire ſhould be term'd b A burning Bed: or a Libation, c The Sable Wave of offer'd Wine.

'Tis not the Diſproportion of the Me [...]aphor to the Thing, which might render [...]heſe Expreſſions blameable; If any thing, [...]tis the want of Occaſion. When the [...]oet is to aggrandize ſmall Subjects, we [...]an bear with much bolder Metaphors [...]an theſe: tho' it may not be proper to [76] call a ſtream of Wine, by the Title of a Sable Wave, on common Occaſions; Yet when the Work requires heightening, we may go ſo much farther, as to call a a ſmall River by the Name of the Ocean.

If we judge by the Occaſion, there can be but few liberties for Metaphor in common Converſation; I mean, the common Converſation of Poetry. Not that they are to be baniſh'd thence entirely; rather it will require them frequently: but it requires only ſuch as are ſingle, and not far remov'd from the Subject. When a Perſon is ſpeaking to Penelope, in Commendation of Ithaca, he might be allow'd to ſay, that Its Soil is rich; that it ab [...]unds in Corn; and that its Trees ar [...] laden with Fruit: Homer's Expreſſion [...] ſcarce carry this ſo far; and yet I ſhoul [...] think them preferable to theſe in th [...] Tranſlation:

b In wavy Gold thy ſummer vales are dreſs'd
Thy autumns bend with copious fruits oppreſs'd

Where the Original ſays, that Eur [...] mus was among the Suitors of Penelope, do not it ſeem better, as well as plain [...] than this Tranſlation?

[77]
—To climb with haughty fires
a The royal bed, Eurynomus aſpires.

A Metaphor may be continu'd too far, as well as carried too high: a long Chain of them leads us away from the proper Senſe; and flings that into Allegory, which we intend for Reality ſtrongly expreſs'd. This is very common, eſpecially in our Pindarick Writers: indeed few of our Poets, but what have b faln into it ſome time or other; but in thoſe, you find the moſt groſs and inſufferable Inſtances of it, that can be imagin'd.

In theſe ſtrings of Metaphor, nothing in my Opinion is ſo faulty, as that Point which has been ſo often touch'd upon: the ſhifting of Circumſtances in the ſame Deſcription; and repreſenting a Thing confuſedly, ſometimes in its figurative, [...]nd ſometimes in its proper Appearance. While an Actor is upon the Stage, his [...]wn private Character muſt be wholly [...]aid aſide: he muſt be entirely Booth, or [...]ntirely Cato. Nay, even in the Scenary [...]ſelf, things muſt be of a piece; and [...]r. Addiſon has the juſteſt Occaſion for [...]s frequent Severities upon this (c) contradictory [78] Mixture's prevailing ſo monſtrouſly in our Theatre: How would the Wits of King Charles's time have laugh'd to ſee Nicolini ſailing in an open Boat, upon a Sea of Paſt board? What a field of Raillery would they have been let into had they been entertain'd with painted Dragons ſpitting Wildfire, enchanted Chariots drawn by Flanders-Mares, and real Caſcades in artificial Landskips? the making things after this manner, partly real, and partly imaginary, is to join Inconſiſtencies. Shadows ought never to be mixt with Realities in the ſame Piece, whether in poetick Scenary, or that o [...] the Stage.

A Poet is never more apt to fall int [...] this Confuſion, than when he is ſpeakin [...] of Allegorical Perſons; as, particularly the Deities of the Heathens. When [...] ſpeak of them perſonally, we are apt [...] mix ſomething of their myſtick Characte [...] this is certainly vicious in Writing; a [...] 'tis more ſo, to confuſe the Properties [...] thoſe things, over which any of th [...] Deities were ſuppos'd to preſide, wi [...] the Perſonal Acts of any particu [...] Deity.

The Poets are allow'd the privile [...] of elevating every Subject they take i [...] the [...]r management: if they pleaſe t [...] [79] may repreſent the Sun, as guided by an Intelligence: and 'tis but one ſtep farther with them, to give that guiding Intelligence, a Name; they call him Phoebus; and obviouſly enough, feign to themſelves, that he drives round the World in a Chariot of Fire. By degrees the Allegory is form'd regularly, and enlarg'd with more Particulars: he has ſo many Horſes aſſign'd to his Chariot: His own Appearance is well known: Beardleſs and Young, A Glory round his Head, and a Quiver full of Arrows o'er his Shoulder: Thetis is ready to receive him at the End of his Journey; and when he is to ſet out again, Aurora riſes from the Ocean to open the Gates of Heaven, that are kept for him by the Hours.

How very regular can Fiction be upon Occaſion? The eſtabliſhment of this Allegory under theſe Particulars, has prevented a world of Confuſion: this we may ſee by any Allegory, which is not yet ſettled on ſome Uniform Plan. To ſhew how far, I ſhall beg leave to enlarge a little on one of the ſame Nature, That of Aurora, the Goddeſs of the Morning.

Phoebus is never repreſented on this Occaſion, but in his Chariot I was ſpeaking [80] of; As for Aurora, I know not whether ſhe rides, ſits, or walks: Sometimes ſhe is in Heaven, and ſometimes upon Earth: In ſhort, the Poets ſeem to leave it undetermin'd how, when, or for what time ſhe makes her Appearance. I have laid together ſeveral Paſſages relating to this, but they leave the Point as confus'd as it was before:

Now did the roſy-finger'd Morn ariſe,
a And ſhed her ſacred light along the skies:

There, ſhe is plainly in Heaven.

—When o'er the Eaſtern lawn
In ſaffion robes the daughter of the dawn
b Advanc'd her roſy ſteps—

And here, as plainly upon Earth.

—With her orient wheels
c Aurora flam'd above the Eaſtern hills [...]

Here I cannot abſolutely determine, whether ſhe be in Heaven, or upon Earth; but 'tis plain, ſhe is got into her Chariot now, as ſhe was pleas'd to Walk the time before.

But when it is evident, that ſhe is not upon Earth; 'tis ſtill difficult to know [81] whether ſhe is near it, or in the higher Heavens: whether ſhe

—Aſcends the Court of Jove,
a Lifts up her light, and opens day above:

Or, only

b—Heaves her orient head above the waves.

There is the ſame difference in the degrees of that Brightneſs, which is attributed to her appearance: ſometimes ſhe only c bluſhes with new-born Day, and ſometimes ſhe is encompaſs'd with d the full ſplendor of it: When I read one Deſcription, I take it for granted, that the Glory round her Head ſhould be of a e glimmering Light; but when we come to another, 'tis of a ſtrong f Flame: You are at the ſame loſs to know, whether her Robes are g Roſe-colour'd, g Saffron, or h Purple: In fine, It would puzzle the Criticks to anſwer directly, whether ſhe has a Quiver on her Shoulders; and whether ſhe is to appear in a i martial, or in a gentle, peaceable Poſture.

This unſettledneſs in the preſent Caſe, runs through almoſt all the Poets ſince [82] Homer. The moſt correct that ever wrote are not entirely free from it. Virgil himſe [...]f often-times a continues her Courſe ſo far, that his b Commentators, to ſalve the matter, ſay, we muſt underſtand Phoebus by Aurora. In him the very Horſes that draw her Chariot are c Roſe-colour'd; as in Theocritus they are d White: ſometimes ſhe has the e Horſes of Phoebus; ſometimes f Four of her own; ſometimes g Two; and ſometimes ſhe is forc'd to ride only, and that upon h the Wings of Pegaſus.

It may be left to the Poets themſelves to determine, whether this Management be juſt towards Perſons of their own making: I ſhall only ſay, that the greateſt Criticks have ever thought, that conſiſtency is requir'd in the moſt unbounded Fictions: And, if I miſtake not greatly, Homer is more regular in this very Fiction before us. A Perſon better vers'd in his Writings, than I have the Happineſs to be, might, I believe, form from them a [...] ſettled a Scheme in relation to this Goddeſ [...] [83] as has been drawn up for any other of his Deities. This is certain, that he has preciſely fixt the time of her appearance; 'tis that a Interval, which commences after the firſt Dawn of Light, and ends juſt before the actual Riſing of the Sun. She always aſcends b from the Sea, to the Eaſtern extremity, or (as it is in the Language of Poetry) the c Gates of Heaven: there ſhe ſits in her d Golden Chariot, which has two Horſes aſſign'd to it, diſtinct e from thoſe of Phoebus, and there ſhe waits to f prepare the way for the Chariot of that Deity.

The Dreſs, and the Epithets, which Homer gives to this Imaginary Being are, as they ought to be in all ſuch Allegories, at the ſame time evidently g drawn from the Nature of the Thing, and fairly applicable [...]o the Fictitious Perſon.

So much for Allegory: 'Tis a danger [...]us Topick, and we are apt to be loſt [84] in the Clouds of it: Either the natural Deſcription, or the Allegory, by it ſelf, may have a thouſand Beauties; but when they are daſh'd together, every thing is dark and confus'd. They put me in mind, Philypſus, of the two Liquors Sir Iſaac Newton ſpeaks of, which from a fine Azure, and a beautiful Red, if you mix them, produce no Colour at all; The tranſparence and glow, which each had ſeparately, is immediately loſt; and their Beauties vaniſh away into one thick impenetrable Shade.

Before theſe confus'd Allegories and mixt Metaphors, I ſhould have mention'd ſome other Inſtances, in which ſingle Metaphors are faulty, either as they are Improper or Affected.

Is it proper to ſpeak of Penelope's Wi [...] and Beauty (or her Beauty alone) under the Notion of a Drooping Verdure? is i [...] proper to talk of b Raining Kiſſes? or of c Storing a Veſſel with proſperou [...] Gales?

Is not th [...] Metaphor and the Turn [...] Expreſſion ſomewhat affected, or over [...] wrought, in this Paſſage of the Nineteenth Odyſſey:

[85]
Theſe ſwarthy arms among the covert ſtores
Are ſeemlier hid; my thoughtleſs youth they blame
a Imbrown'd with vapour of the ſmouldring flame.

And a little farther, in the ſame:

My woes awak'd will violate your Ear;
And to this gay cenſorious train, appear
b A winy-vapour melting in a Tear.

Again; upon Telemachus's return:

All crowded round the family appears,
With wild entrancement, and exſtatick tears.
Swift from above deſcends the Royal Fair;
Her beauteous cheeks the bluſh of V [...]nus wear,
(c) Chaſten'd with coy Diana's penſive air.

In the following Lines ſhe hangs o'er him,

—In his embraces dies;
(c) Rains kiſſes on his neck, his face, his eyes.

You have here (ſays Antiphaus) what [...]as appear'd to me as Blemiſhes in this [...]oem, under theſe ſeveral Heads. I have [...]ndeavour'd, Philypſus, to read it with [...]everity: and when my Regards for the [...]uthor, or the Influence which ſuch [...]riters will always have over ones Soul, [86] began at any time to ſway my Mind; I have call'd up all the Ill-nature I am Maſter of to my Aſſiſtance; I'm fully ſenſible how difficult it is to keep the ballance ſteady: ſometimes our Admiration may warm us too much; and ſometimes a little Malice will prevail. If any thing I have been ſaying ſeems diſcolour'd with this Temper of Mind, point out my Faults to me, dear Philypſus; Correct me like a Friend; and ſhew that openneſs I have deſerv'd at your hands.

When I have time to conſider the Notes, I ſee you have taken down (anſwer'd Philypſus) and to compare ſome Paſſages with the Original, You ſhall know more of my Mind: as yet I ſee no reaſon for your Requeſt; but think you have dealt with that Fairneſs which I ſo much admire in my Antiphaus.

In the mean time I have a word or two to add on thoſe other Excellencies of this Tranſlation, which I mention'd to you before.

That Method of Improving the Original, by Tran [...]ferring Beauties from on [...] fine Writer to another, is carried on thro' this remaining part of the Poem, in the ſame frequency, as it was us'd i [...] the former Volumes.

[87] Theſe Foreign Infuſions of Thought and Language (to uſe the Name which Mr. Addiſon has given them) are very diſcernible to any one of a tolerable Taſte: 'tis true, they muſt have ſomething of a new Air; but they ſtill [...] a diſtinct Reſemblance of the Old, ſomething like that of the Siſter N [...]eids in Ovid;

—Facies non omnibus una,
[...]c di [...]erſa t [...]m [...]n; qual [...]m d [...]c [...]t [...]ſſ [...] ſ [...]rorum.

In pointing out theſe Reſemblances to ſome People, I ſhou'd be apprehenſive, that they might think me taken up in an Imaginary Chaſe: but any one of much leſs D [...]ſcernment, than Antiphaus, will perceive immediately, that this Liken [...]ſs is real, and deſign'd by the Poet himſelf. There is an a eminent Critick, who has wrote a whole Treatiſe on this ſingle Point, in Praiſe of a b particular Favourite of his: In the preſent Caſe, Mr. Pope tells c us, ‘That he read the Ancients with this Deſign; that he ſerves himſelf of them as much as he can; and that they have been his chief Inſpirers in Poetry.’ I believe the Gentlemen, [88] who are concern'd with him in this Tranſlation, would give me leave to ſay the ſame of them: 'Tis too evident to be denied: it appears both in their a Obſervations, and in their excellent Works.

In theſe laſt Volumes, how finely are bſome Thoughts wove into this Tranſlation from the ſacred Pages? from the Iliad, and Aeneid; from Dryden, and Milton among ourſelves; and from ſeveral others, both Ancient and Modern?

The Tranſlator is ſometimes as Artſul in adding, of himſelf, ſome ſhort Strokes to what Homer has ſaid. We meet with ſeveral of theſe little Inſertions, which are very juſt and improving. I ſhall mention but one. As Mr. Addiſon c propoſes a Correction of Paradiſe Loſt, by cutting off the two laſt Lines; Mr. Pope improves this Poem, by adding a Line in the Concluſion of it: This Inſertion poſſibly is better choſe, than that [89] Alteration ſo modeſtly propos'd by Mr. Addiſon. The Reader, indeed, would willingly go off with ſome Hopes and Satisfaction, after the Melancholly Scene in Milton's laſt Book: but it may be ſaid that, conſidering the Moral and chief Deſign of that Poem, Terror is the laſt Paſſion to be left upon the Mind of the Reader. On the contrary, the Odyſſey ought on all Accounts to terminate happily: and Mr. Pope's Addition, in the cloſe of it, is therefore an Improvement, becauſe it forwards the Moral; it gives us a a fuller View and Confirmation of the Happineſs of Ulyſſes, and leaves it upon a firmer Foundation.

In the beginning of the Evening, Antiphaus, You were ſpeaking of the Poets tranſpoſing Words to Advantage. I believe [90] this may ſometimes be of greater Uſe in altering the Order of Sentences, o [...] the Succeſſion of ſome Incidents in the Poem; tho' I own, this muſt be attempted but rarely, and with the greateſt Caution: Difficult as it is, You will find a good Inſtance of the Former in one of the Suitors ridiculing Speeches; and of the Latter in Euryclea's Tranſports.

Euryclea, You know, diſcovers Ul [...]ſſ [...] by a Scar upon his Leg, while ſhe is Bathing him. The Moment ſhe makes this diſcovery, ſhe drops the Jarr of Water, and is ready to faint away with Surprize and Joy. Tho' theſe, in the Nature of the Caſe, muſt follow immediately upon one another, Homer has inſerted a long Story (how the Scar wa [...] occaſion'd) juſt after the Diſcovery, a [...] before thoſe Paſſions, which are the i [...] mediate Effect of it. Thus is a ſuddai [...] Event declar'd [...]ourſcore Lines before [...] is deſcrib'd—A Succeſſion of time tak [...] up in the Narration, contrary to t [...] time of the Fact—An Impetuous Pa [...] kept in ſuſpence; in a word, Two thin [...] inſeparable in their Nature, are [...] in the Deſcription. I know [...] whether I ſee this in a wrong Light; b [...] [...]t preſent it puts me in Mind of [...] fli [...]ging his Baſon down, travell [...] [91] to Heaven, ſeeing the Lord knows what there, and returning again before the Water is run out.

If I miſtake not, this Impropriety is avoided very Artfully. Euryclea is not made to diſcover this Scar before that long Digreſſion. a It is rather ſaid (in the Prophetick manner of the Poets) that ſhe would ſoon Diſcover it, than that ſhe has actually Diſcover'd it. 'Tis after the Digreſſion, that it is mention'd directly as Fact: ſo that in the Tranſlation, This Fact is not diſ-jointed from thoſe Emotions which it immediately raiſes in Euryclea; We are not told fourſcore Lines after the Jarr is flung down, that the Water is running out of it.

If this be really the Caſe, ſays Antiphaus, I think the Alteration is much to be commended. But why may not Homer himſelf be underſtood to ſpeak in the Prophetick manner too? for I ſuppoſe that ſingle Point would ſalve all: You do not blame the Digreſſion itſelf?

No, ſays Philypſus, 'tis not the Digreſſion which I blame, but the Point in which it is introduc'd; juſt between a Fact, and what in Nature muſt be immediately conſequent upon that Fact. [92] If, as you ask, Homer ſpeaks at firſt, only in the Prophetick manner, then it is all clear'd up: But I fear his Expreſſions confine it directly to a thing then done, and cannot be taken in the Prophetical way.

Philypſus was ſo engag'd to this Moment, that he had not once obſerv'd how the Day wore away: He was ſurpriz'd to find the Night was juſt coming on. ‘Why did you ſuffer me (ſays he to Antiphaus) to keep you here ſo long: I did not imagine the Night had been ſo near us: You know I am an Eternal Talker—However I ſee the Coach is at the Door; and we may reach our Lodgings, I believe, before it is quite dark.’

An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the FIFTH.

[93]

BEFORE they parted the laſt Evening the two Friends agreed, that their next meeting ſhou'd be in the ſame place; and as this was to be the laſt which they intended to ſet apart for this Enquiry, they ſet out for Horatio's earlier than uſual. When they alighted, Philypſus order'd his Servant before them to the Dome of Apollo, with a Book or two he had brought in the Coach; whilſt He and Antiphaus walk'd on gently to enjoy the Freſhneſs of the Air, and the Beaut [...]es of the Place. The Sun (which now began to be in its decline) as it ſhot thro' the Trees, made a thouſand wavering [94] Mixtures of Light and Shade: The Birds, on all ſides were anſwering one another in their little natural Airs: every thing look'd Freſh about 'em; and every thing was Agreeable.

Delighted with ſo many calm undiſturb'd Pleaſures, they wander'd on from one Walk to another; and chatted, as they went, of a Thouſand indifferent Things. Among the reſt Philypſus fell into an Account of the Company he had to Dine with him. You know Morfori [...], ſays he?—Perfectly well, anſwer'd A [...] tiphaus.—He was there too; and made it his Buſineſs, as uſual, to contradict every thing that was offer'd aga [...]nſt any of our celebrated Poets.—I am very glad, ſays Antiphaus, that I was not of the Company; his way of arguing is t [...] General to be Anſwer'd, and too Poſitive [...] be B [...]rn with.—Yes, ſays Philypſus, it was his old way. If one Perſon blamed ſome particular Littleneſs in Milton, he wou'd immediately ask him how he cou'd blaſpheme ſuch a Sublime Poet? and when another mention'd a groſs Line from Addiſon's Works; How abſurd is that, ſay [...] he, to charge ſuch a thing on the chaſte [...] and moſt correct Compoſitions in th [...] World?—Right! and I ſuppoſe t [...] very next thing he muſt ask was, How Yo [...] [95] cou'd diſlike ſuch Glorious Men, as Addiſon and Milton—You have him exactly. It was in vain to tell him that you diſliked only this Line, or that Thought: He would have h [...]s way: and, I doubt not, but in his Opinion we are all a Set of Hereticks, or at leaſt Free-thinkers in Poetry. What an egregious Fault is it, Antiphaus, with ſome Men, only to have ones Eyes open?—But there are times (ſays Antiphaus, aſſuming as he ſpoke, the imperious air and manner of Morforio) there are times ſure, when they had better [...]e ſhut—And therefore I ſhould wink always—Not ſo neither: Your Betters [...]ay direct you what to look upon, and what [...]ot—That's a good Thought, truly: [...]tis great Pity the Legiſlator has not conſider'd of it. I ſhould be in Love with [...]n Act of Parliament about the Uſe of Eyes.—Why where would be the great [...]arm of the Matter, if you were order'd to [...]ink hard, or to turn away from every diſa [...]eeable Object, that offer'd it ſelf?—How [...]ay I behave, if the Object be agreeable?—Look as long as you pleaſe—And How, if there be a Mixture of diſagree [...]ble in it?—You ſuppoſe then, that [...]here may be ſomething diſagreeable, in that [...]hich is beautiful?—Really, Sir, that [...]s my Notion. Nay, I am apt to think [96] farther, that there is nothing ſo Beautiful, as to be without Defect; without ſome Mixture of the Diſagreeable. By your Rule then, we muſt loſe the ſight of a Thouſand fine Objects. How can I look on that Lady, you were admiring ſo much the other Day in the Ring, without ſeeing that her Hair is of a diſagreeable Colour? Or muſt I ſwear that her Eyebrows are Black, becauſe ſhe has a fi [...] Shape?—That's over-ſtraining the matter: but I think you might paſs by ſuch a Trifle, if it were only in Complaiſance. Where there are ſuch exact Features, [...] charming a Complexion, and a Make ſo delicate, 'tis barbarous not to let ſuch a ſma [...] Affair, as the Colour of an Eyebrow, eſca [...] your Obſervation.—Depend upon it, I [...] would not be ſo blind as to think the Lady was Diſagreeable on that Accou [...]B [...]t I cannot allow any thing diſagr [...] able abou [...] her—Where are your Eye [...] then?—I would not believe them—That's one way—Or what would [...] ſay to the new I [...]vention—What Invention I beſeech you—Only of a [...]ett [...] Glaſſes, which ſhall make each favouri [...] Object appear exactly the ſame to every E [...]—And exactly beautiful?—T [...] too—An hopeful project, truly! L [...] but Morforio be the Deſigner, and ſo [...] [97] things would appear all Glaring and Beautiful; while all the reſt, I ſuppoſe, only upon turning the Tube, might be nothing but Deformity.

In the midſt of this roving ſort of Talk, they were got to the Dome, before they thought of it: ‘Well, ſays Philypſus (as he enter'd) till I meet with the Perſpectives you were talking of, I ſhall not be aſham'd to confeſs, that I find my Eyes at preſent to be of a different Turn. I cannot help perceiving ſome little Blemiſhes in our moſt delightful Poets; and yet I am far from an Inſenſible to their Beauty: I view them with delight; I admire them paſſionately: Nay, I believe, I have all of Morforio's Love, except the Blindneſs of it. 'Tis there that you have open'd my Eyes, Antiphaus: You have taught me to Love not only with Paſſion, but with Reaſon—Rather ſay (reply'd [...]ntiphaus) that your own Mind aſſerted [...]s true Prerogative; and roſe up to guide [...]our Paſſions to none, but proper Ob [...]cts.’—However that be, ſays Philypſus, [...]am ſenſible of an Alteration for the bet [...]r; and can now indulge a Paſſion for [...]y Writer with the greater Appetite, [...] I am perſwaded it gives the Mind a [...]fficient Pleaſure, without making ſo [98] great a Fool of it. Do I not love thi [...] Writer, added he, (taking up one of th [...] Pieces that lay before him) I read hi [...] with the ſame Eagerneſs, and find ne [...] Charms in him continually. Nay, [...] think my Love of him more ſecure, tha [...] ever: Since I can ſuffer my ſelf to ſe [...] his Faults; and by that means, am ſatisfied that they can never be ſufficien [...] in the leaſt to cloud his Perfections.

I am entirely of your Opinion, (ſay [...] Antiphaus) and doubt not, but in ou [...] finiſhing this Enquiry, we ſhall have th [...] greater Security in admiring Him. [...] only ſpeak of our ſelves. There may b [...] many other Beauties, and other Fault [...] viſible to Men of better Eyes: but w [...] may ſafely fix our own Sentiments o [...] what we have been able to diſcover ou [...] ſelves. I hope, we have endeavour' [...] ſincerely to hold the Ballance ſteddy and when we have done what we can we have done what we ought.

I wiſh you would have left that Sentence for me, ſays Philypſus; It woul [...] have ſerv'd admirably to introduce wha [...] I am to enter upon this Evening.—I [...] is at your ſervice (ſays Antiphaus) an [...] therefore I beg you would proceed.

Tho' I might begin very well with th [...] ſententious manner in Writing; my Subject, [99] ſays Philypſus, is ſo various, that I [...]o not well know what I ought to chuſe [...]rſt: The Proſpect widens rather too [...]uch upon me; and indeed takes in [...]oſt of the Faults and Vertues of any [...]oem. I own that, in general, the Great [...]nd Firſt Excellence of a Poet, is to be [...]tural: but it will be allow'd me, that [...] chief, and diſtinguiſhing Beauty of [...] Epick Poem, as ſuch, is a true A [...]r of [...]reatneſs, and a Stile that carries weight [...]d emphaſis with it: as the Vice moſt [...]ppoſite to it, is trifling, vulgarity, and [...]anneſs. I wiſh I may manage theſe [...]oints as fully, as I doubt not Antiphaus [...]ill diſplay the natural ſtrokes that are [...] frequent in the Odyſſey.

Sentences carry much efficacy with [...]em in a Poem; they are uſually of the [...]erceptive kind; tho' they ſeem rather [...] inſinuate, than to command: As they [...]e general Truths and Maxims of Life, [...]ell adapted to ſome particular occaſion [...] the Poem, they appear with Autho [...]ty; and contain the moſt uſeful Inſtru [...]ions, without the Stiffneſs and Odium [...] perſonal Advice.

'Tis a Miſtake (to uſe a Maxim of [...]ord Shaftsbury's) to think that no body [...]ws how to take Advice; the Fault is, [...] few know how to give it. To do this [100] agreeably, and at the ſame time with Weight, is the great Art of Sentences in Poetry.

Poetry in its Birth was calculated for the Service of Religion. The deſign of the Epick Muſe was to paint the Succeſſes of Vertue, or the Puniſhment o [...] Vice. Hence the Tragick, that follow' [...] the very ſame Purpoſes; and afterwar [...] the old Comedy, whoſe buſineſs lay in encouraging leſſer Domeſtick Vertues, an [...] ridiculing the Foibles of Mankind. S [...] tire, the Off-ſpring of both theſe, pa [...] takes of either kind; ſhe Smiles in H [...] race, looks Severe in Perſius, and Commanding in Juvenal: The Satiriſt ma [...] [...]ſe different Methods, but whether [...] Laſh [...]s or Ridicules, 'tis ſtill the vici [...] who are to ſuffer.

All the other Species of Poetry eit [...] [...]all in with theſe, or follow the ſa [...] Ends: ſuch, as forget this, deſerve [...] the Name of Poets: they proſtitute t [...] Muſe; and whatever they produce m [...] be of a Baſtard-Kind.

Among many other Excellencies, [...] ought particularly to be obſerv'd in H [...] nour of the true genuine Poets of A [...] quity, that they ſeem to treat of Mo [...] lity, even better than thoſe who profeſ [...] that Study. Were it not for the Wo [...] [101] of their Poets, we might very well imagine Benevolence, for Inſtance, That which gives its Life and Spirit to the whole Family of Vertues, was ſuppreſs'd [...]o the laſt Degree among the Heathens. [...]n reading their Philoſophers, one is [...]lmoſt perſwaded, that they teach Re [...]enge; and make it their buſineſs to li [...]it and reſtrain that Love, which Men [...]ave naturally to one another. In ſhort, [...]e that wants to find the true Philoſo [...]hy muſt go to their Poets. They break [...]ut into warmer Notions, and more ex [...]lted Leſſons of Humanity. Among them [...]e Face of Charity is leſs veil'd, and [...]ouded; and Goodneſs appears with a [...]ountenance more generous and erect.

The Odyſſey, as a Moral Poem, exceeds [...]l the Writings of the Ancients: it is [...]rpetual in forming the Manners, and [...]tructing the Mind: it ſets off the Du [...]s of Life more fully, as well as more [...]reeably, than the Academy or Lyceum. [...]race, who was ſo well acquainted [...]th the Tenets of both, has given (a) [...]mer's Poems the Preference to e [...] [...]er.

[102] Surely, Antiphaus, Men were more Virtuous in the days of Homer, than they were in the time of Plato or Cicero; at leaſt, they were more charitable, and tender to Strangers. How elſe could the Poet ſpeak in ſuch a Spirit of Goodneſs, whenever he touches upon this Duty? Nothing is inculcated by him, more frequently; and nothing, with greater Strength and Emphaſis.

Homer (in relation to Strangers) does not ſtint the Charity of his Countrymen to the common Uſe of Fire and Water: he ſeems rather to proportion the bounty to the want;

'Tis ours the Sons of ſorrow to relieve,
a Chear the ſad heart, nor let affliction gri [...]ve.

He ſcarce looks upon this as bounty, he rather thinks it a debt owing to every one of the ſame nature with us:

'Tis what the happy to the unhappy owe:
b 'Tis what the Gods require.

What is given to them (ſays he) is paid [...]o, and will infallibly be rewarded by, the Divine Power.

By Jove the S [...]ranger and the Poor are ſent;
c And what to thoſe we give, to Jove is lent.

[103] As the neglect of this will be aveng'd by the ſame,

To Jove their cauſe, and their revenge belongs,
a He wanders with them, and he feels their [...]rongs.

I doubt not, but this Notion of the Gods wandering on Earth in a diſguis'd manner, was a very common motive to Charity in thoſe times: it is mention'd very ſtrongly in the Original, in this place; and b afterwards, when Ulyſſes appears as a Suppliant among the Phoeacians.

Such high exalted Thoughts of this Duty have carried the Poet ſo far as c to teach, "That we ſhou'd not value any "labour of our own in aſſiſting others:" but as that is not deliver'd in the Sententious manner, I ſhou'd go out of my way to repeat it at preſent.

To us, who have always enjoy'd ſo clear and ſteady a Light, in regard to every branch of this Duty, theſe ſentences may appear common and obvious: but I imagine any one, who ſhou'd compare theſe Paſſages, by the rules of Benevolence in the Philoſophical writings of the Ancients; would upon ſuch a view allow [104] them to contain thoughts highly noble and extenſive.

I ſhall mention but one more, which tho' it run thro' ſeveral lines, is but one entire ſentence: and which, by the way, if I forget not, contains a motive to Charity, not to be found even in a Cicero's Catalogue.

Who calls, from diſtant nations to his own,
The poor, diſtinguiſh'd by their wants alone?
Round the whole world are ſought thoſe men divine,
Who publick Structures raiſe, or who deſign;
Thoſe to whoſe Eyes the Gods their ways reveal,
Or bleſs with ſalutary arts to heal:
Theſe ſtates invite, and mighty Kings admire,
Wide as the Sun diſplays his vital fire.
It is not ſo with Want! How few that feed
b A Wretch unhappy, merely for his need?

I ought not to diſſemble one thing; That the Tranſlation is not to be truſted entirely in this Argument: we find theſe Paſſages improv'd in the Handling; and thoſe Lines, in which they reſemble our ſacred Writings, may be drawn more ſtrongly. However, the Original it ſelf may give us a great deal of reaſon to ſuppoſe, either that Homer had borrow'd ſome lights from thence; or that he cou'd diſcern the Light of Nature more [105] clearly, than any other of the Heathen Writers.

Before I compar'd Paſſages, I muſt own to you, that I was in particular expectation of Improvements from Mr. Pope under this Article. A virtuous generous Soul is certainly as neceſſary to conſtitute a Great Poet, as a Great Orator: and in Sentiments like theſe, we may diſcover that temper of Mind, which I dare ſay has contributed much towards making that Gentleman ſo good a Poet, as well as ſo good a Friend.

There is one particular more extremely frequent in Homer: it runs thorough all his Works; and is ſcarce once omitted, where there is any occaſion for it. I believe your Thoughts outrun me, and might prevent my ſaying, that I mean His Reflections on the Miſeries of this Life. They are moſtly very emphatical; and lead to a very eaſy and uſeful inference.

—To his native land our charge reſign'd [...]
Heaven is his life to come, and all the woes behind.
Then muſt he ſuffer what the Fates ordain;
For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain,
a And Twins ev'n from the birth are Miſery and Man!

In another place we have the ſame Thought as ſtrongly expreſs'd, tho' [106] branch'd out into ſeveral other Particulars: Let us ſuppoſe Ullyſſes before us: A Prince, Great for the Ages in which he liv'd, and greatly diſtreſs'd: How much does he ſpeak like one, born to Wiſdom, and long inſtructed by Adverſity?

Of all that breaths, or grov'ling treads on earth,
Moſt vain is Man! Calami [...]ous by birth.
To day with power ela [...]e in ſtrength he blooms;
The haughty creature on that power preſumes:
Anon, from Heav'n, a ſad reverſe he feels;
Untaught to bear, [...]gainſt Hea'vn the wretch rebels.
For Man is changeful, as his bliſs or woe;
Too high, when proſp'rous; when diſtreſs'd, too low.
There was a Day, when (with the ſcornful Great)
I ſwell'd in pomp and arrogance of ſtate;
Proud of the pow'r, that to high bi [...]th be [...]ongs;
And us'd that pow'r to juſtify my wrongs.
Then let not Man be proud; but, firm of mind,
Bear the beſt humbly, and the worſt reſign'd:
a Be Dumb, when Heaven [...]fflicts!—

Of all Sentences, there are none which ſtrike the Mind more forcibly, than thoſe which carry a bold air, a certain nobleneſs of Thought with them. There is a Moral Heroiſm, greatly to be preferr'd to that which generally uſurps its Name; a Generoſity of Soul, that looks beyond the Vulgar, and ſpeaks up to the Truth of things: It is this Generoſity, which animates thoſe Lines in Virgil:

[107]
Eſt hic, eſt animus, lucis contemptor; & istum
a Qui vi [...]d bene cred [...]t emi, quo tendis, ho [...]orem.

The ſame Spirit is in [...]us'd into this Line:

b Death, ill-exchang'd for bondage and for pain!

The nobleſt Sentiments, are not ſuch as make an Eclat, but thoſe which are ſolidly generous and good. We have frequent inſtances of both from two Perſons in the Iliad: Hector ſpeaks things, that are great; Ajax often, what is marvellous and ſurprizing: Both ſpeak loftily: but one is more ſolid, and the other nearer to a Rant; both ſhew Courage and Generoſity in what they ſay; but they ſeem to talk, as they act; Ajax fights merely for fighting ſake; while Hector engages always for the good of his Country.

I ſhall beg leave to cloſe this Head with two Sentiments, as much celebrated as any in the Iliad, and ſpoke by the two Heroes we have been talking of. The one, in the mere Spirit of an Hero;

If Greece muſt periſh, we thy will obey,
c But let us periſh in the face of day.

[108] The other, in that of a Patriot too;

Without a ſign his ſword the brave man draws;
a And asks no omen, but his country's cauſe.

I am ſorry, ſays Antiphaus, you have quitted this Point ſo ſoon, methinks you might afford a little more room for a thing of ſuch conſiderable Uſe. Sentences are fitted by their Nature to carry on that Chief deſign of Poetry, to mix the Uſeful with the Agreeable.—Together with a certain air of Authority, they ſerve to eſtabliſh the Poets Moral Character; which, according to a b late Hypotheſis, may render him at the ſame time more delightful, as well as more inſtructive.—Beſides this, they often flatter the Vanity of the Reader; And (as the c Firſt of Criticks tells us) ‘take the more readily with this or that Perſon, as they confirm in general, what he has before concluded from his own Obſervation on particular Occurrences in Life.’

I wonder at one thing, ſays Philypſus; That ſo many of the Criticks ſhou'd blame Sentences, and look upon 'em as particularly unfit for Poems of the Epick [109] Kind: a Rapin, I think, condemns them, as they ſeem to jut out of the Structure of the Poem, and are apt to interrupt the Narration too much: Boſſu, who is rather on their ſide, yet obſerves there is a kind of Calm Wiſdom in them, that is contrary to the Paſſions. Even the Perſon, whom you juſt now call'd the Firſt of Criticks, puts us in mind of your Ruſticks, that are always b ſtringing of Proverbs together: and [...] very good Critick of our own ſays, in [...]o many words, that c they are generally [...]ome of the heavieſt pieces in a whole Poem.

Let them add, if they pleaſe, ſays An [...]iphaus, that they ſound aukwardly from [...]he mouth of a Young Perſon, and prepo [...]erouſly from an Atheiſt. I own the [...]harge: the beſt Writers them [...]elves ſeem [...]o be ſenſible of it; and where they do [...]ny thing of this kind, are the firſt to [...]orrect themſelves. Addiſon d puts a [...]entence into the Mouth of Portius; but [...]e corrects him for it, in the next Line, [...]ho' the Son of a Cato; and when Virgil [110] a makes his Atheiſt ſententious, there is ſtill a mixture of the Atheiſt to be diſcover'd in what he ſays.

But grant that Sentences are not proper from Perſons that are Young, or Vicious; Grant, that they are not proper in a Mezentius, or a Portius: What then? may they not be proper in Cato himſelf, or in Aeneas?

'Tis the ſame Caſe in every particular you have produc'd from the Criticks: they ſpeak rather againſt the Abuſe of this Ornament, than againſt the Ornament itſelf. There can be no doubt of it; Sentences are certainly faulty, when they appear too groſsly, and ſtand off from the reſt of the Work: But what is this to Sentences, which are fitly applied, and wove in Artfully with the other Parts? Homer and Virgil are very happy in this particular: they give them a ſufficient Fulneſs; but they never glare ſo, as to attract the Eye ſingly to themſelves [...] You admire them as much from their Relation to the things about them, as for their own particular Beauty: in ſhort, they might be Beautiful by themſelves, but they are much more ſo in the Tout-enſemble of the Piece.

[111] We may add to this, that their Sentences are ſo far from hindering the Narration, that they are almoſt conſtantly a part of it, and help to carry it forward: But tho' they are uſually wrought into the Speeches of the Poem, we do not receive them from Perſons improper; or hurried by any violent Paſſion: and where the Subject is ſtill and gentle, that [...]alm Wiſdom, that has been objected to them, cannot be very prejudicial. Indeed in any place, or on any Occaſion, a long thread of them is inſupportable; theſe are worſe than the Sanchoiſms of Cer [...]antes, becauſe they are not ſo ridiculous: We can laugh at Sancho all the time he is multiplying his Proverbs upon us; but in Poetry, ſuch dry Preachments are, of all other, the greateſt Opiates, and have the quickeſt effect on the Audience. L [...]can's Poem and Seneca's Tragedies, notwithſtanding all their Beauties, are In [...]ances of this to a great degree.

There is another way of murthering Sentences, for which we are wholly o [...]lig'd to thoſe ingenious Gentlemen, the [...]ditors. It is that Art of cutting off [...]entences from the Body of a Work, and [...]rcing them to jut out from it, whether [...]ey will or no, by Printing all ſuch, [...]here-ever they can catch them, in Italick [112] Characters. Mr. Addiſon, if I remember, is condemning this Practice in that very place where he ſays, that Sentences are ſome of the heavieſt Pieces in a Poem: and I imagine nothing could make him ſpeak ſo ſeverely of them in general, but this Practice that is ſo deſtructive of their Beauty.

In ſhort, Sentences that are cold, affected, or ill-placed, ſuch as are either too diſtinct, or too much throng'd, may be blam'd with a great deal of Juſtice: but ſuch as are handſomely wove into the Narration, at proper Intervals, and from none but proper Speakers, will not only be ſafe from the Cenſure of the Criticks; but are allowed by them in general, to be highly ſerviceable towards g [...]ving its proper Weight and Emphaſ [...] to an Epick Poem.

I think you have defended this Beaut [...] ſufficiently, ſays Philypſus; and ſhall g [...] on to the next under this Head, Conciſe [...] neſs: There is no greater Symptom [...] weakneſs in a Writer, than his being a [...] to ſay a little in a great deal; as nothi [...] is more ſtrong and emphatical, than [...] ſay a great deal in a little.

Hence the Force and Emphaſis of th [...] Line of Mr. Pope.

[113]
a Oh every ſacred Name in one, my Friend!

And of this,

b The Great, the Good; your Father and your King.

The want of a ſcrupulous Connexion, draws things into a leſſer Compaſs; and adds the greater Spirit and Emotion:

(c) He ſhrieks, he reels, he falls.—

The more Rays are thus collected into [...] Point, the more vigorous the Flame: Hence there is yet greater Emphaſis, [...]hen the Rout of an Army is ſhewn in [...]he ſame contracted manner; As that [...] the 24th of the d Odyſſey: which has [...]me reſemblance to Salluſt's Deſcription [...]f the ſame thing (agreeable to his uſual [...]onciſeneſs) in theſe four Words only: [...]) Sequi, fugere, occidi, capi.

There may be a contraction of many [...]ircumſtances to a Point, which turns [...]ore on the Sentiment, than the Diction: [...]s when we place the Succeſs of a Thou [...]nd important Events on one Effort, or [...]ne Moment of Time: Thus Antinous, 185 [114] the Chief of the Suitors, to his Companions,

a Ariſe, (or you for ever fall) ariſe.

Which has ſuch an Air of Milton's Lucifer:

Awake, Ariſe, or be for ever faln!

Thoſe Lines, ſays Antiphaus, ſerve the purpoſe for which you repeat them very well; but is there not ſomething too much like a Turn upon the words in them? I was ſenſible of that (anſwer'd Philypſus) but I follow your Example, Antiphaus, in viewing a thing only in one Light at a time, to prevent the infinite Confuſion that would happen in turning each Line every way. This is brought as Emphatical: You allow it to be ſo; if it anſwer the end for which it is produced, that is all that I intend: and I beg once for all to be underſtood under this view in every Inſtance that I have, or may uſe, on particular Occaſions.

This maſculine nervous Conciſeneſs, I am ſpeaking of, is very uſual from Generals to their Soldiers: but among a multitude of Inſtances, I am particularly pleas'd with that Speech of Henr [...] [115] the Great, before the Battle in the Plains of Ivry, ‘I am your King, You are Frenchmen, and there are the Enemy.’

Sometimes we find an Emphaſis and Vigour impreſs'd on every particular word of a Sentence:

a Now, Grief, thou all art mine!

And in theſe Lines, which we have often admired for their peculiar Strength and Efficacy; They ſpeak of Ulyſſes's extream Love of his native Country:

To ſee the ſmoak from his lov'd palace riſe,
While the dear Iſle in diſtant proſpect lies,
b With what cont [...]ntment would he cloſe his eyes?

This is not only of uſe in the Grand or Pathetick: there are excellent Inſtances of it from Terence c, in the Tender and Familiar, as there are others from Virgil in the Natural, and even in the Satirical; and that ſo ſtrongly in the latter, that d ſome have been apt to [116] imagine from them, that Virgil might, if he pleas'd, have made the greateſt Satiriſt that ever wrote.

Sometimes this very Emphaſis is encreas'd by a certain Oppoſition of the words us'd in it: there is a Paſſage in the Iliad, which I have particularly admir'd on this Account: Give me leave to repeat it from the Original; becauſe the Greek Tongue is particularly Emphatical, and has more Nerves than perhaps our Language is capable of: [...], a [...].—

The Emphatical manner in writing flies all Dreſs and Ornament, all ſuperfluous and deſcriptive Epithets, all turns and elegancies of Thought. Hence that Conciſeneſs, which generally attends it. The moſt obvious fault in Conciſeneſs is Obſcurity; what is obſcure, can never be ſufficiently emphatical: This makes the conciſe way the moſt difficult of any. 'Tis eaſy to follow the Stream of one's Imagination, and write on with an unthinking Rapidity; but to expreſs every [117] thing fully, and to ſay nothing that is needleſs, requires a great Judgment, and much force in our Expreſſions. The great Monſieur Paſcal had a particular happineſs of comprizing much in a few Words: he had a very Mathematical Turn of Thought; and of all things hated an idle Prolixity. You will be pleas'd with an Excuſe of his in a certain Caſe, where he had been guilty of it: 'Tis in the cloſe of one of his Letters, where he begs his Friend to pardon the unuſual length of it, by ſaying, that he really had not time to make it ſhorter.

Some emphatical Paſſages are not only ſo conciſe, as to contain juſt as many Ideas as Words; they have often force enough even to intimate ſeveral Ideas more than they expreſs.

Thus it is in all Intimations of Power. One of Homer's greateſt Excellencies lies in this. In ſetting off the Hero of his Iliad, he does not ſay in Words, that he was vaſtly Terrible to the Enemy; he mentions the effects, and leaves the Reader to collect what Terror muſt attend him. After the Death of Patroclus, the whole Army of the Trojans is put into Confuſion, only a at hearing his Voice: [118] They are all trembling, and diſpirited: a they had ſeen Achilles. 'Tis not a ſudden Panick; it continues upon them: When they pour'd down in ſuch Numbers from the City, it was becauſe b they did not behold the Creſt of that Hero; and now they are all conſulting, whether they ſhould not quit the Field, becauſe c he had ſhewn himſelf at a diſtance, and might poſſibly enter into the next Engagement.

Homer has the ſame addreſs in intimating the Power of his Deities; when he introduces them as effecting their deſigns with a d Touch, with a e Voice, with a f ſingle Thought.

It is the ſame Sentiment that gives their Air of Grandeur to theſe Lines:

g Declare thy purpoſe; for thy Will is Fate.
Let a [...]l be Peace.—He ſaid; and gave the nod
h That binds the Fates, the Sanction of the God.

And this, of the ſame import, from our Shakeſpear;

—What he bids be done,
Is finiſh'd with his bidding.—

[119] On this turns the Greatneſs of that Thought in the Sacred Hiſtory of the Creation: God ſaid, Let there be Light, and there was Light: Tho' I ſhould imagine this to exceed every Inſtance above; becauſe it intimates, all that they expreſs, and intimates it as fully and ſtrongly, as they expreſs it.

Let the Greatneſs of this Sentence ſtand or fall by the Rules of Sublimity. We need not mention, that a Longinus choſe it for an Inſtance of the Sublime: whether that great Critick ever ſaw it or not, is not material: but I wonder, that ſome later Writers, of very great Name, cannot be perſwaded to ſee any Force or Energy in it. I own, I have never read what Monſieur Le Clerc offers againſt the Sublimity of this Paſſage: Surely it would not be very difficult to anſwer it, if it be of a Strain with what b Monſieur Huetius offer'd before him; Where he ſeems to argue, that c This Paſſage cannot be Sublime, becauſe the Language is Simple.

It is this Art of leaving more for the Reader to collect, than you expreſs in Words, which runs through ſeveral of [120] Ulyſſes's Speeches; both at the Court of Alcinous, and before the Suitors. Whether the Hero tells his own Story, or feigns ſome other, he is equally carefull in laying before them ſomething of the High Station he once enjoy'd: and hence his Speeches have generally a great Air of that celebrated Anſwer of Marius to a Meſſage ſent from the Roman General: a Go, and tell, Sextilius, that you ſaw Marius, [...]itting among the Ruins of Carthage.

Intimation is ſo ſtrong and nervous, that the b Ancient Criticks confin'd the Name of Emphaſis to this one Point; tho' (as we uſe the word) the very contrary of this, may be of great Service in making a Diſcourſe emphatical. The Soul is ſometimes poſſeſs'd by the Number of great Circumſtances. Thus in that Paſſage of Homer, which Mr. Pope tranſlates after the following manner;

M [...]n, Steeds, and Chariots ſhake the trembling ground;
The T [...]n [...]ult thickens, and the Skies reſound:
Victors and V [...]nquiſh'd join promiſcuous cries,
c Triumphant ſhou [...]s, and dying groans ariſe.

[121] We meet with the ſame tumultuary Figure in the Deſcription of the Field after the Battle:

a Thro' Duſt, thro' Blood, o'er Arms, and hills of Slain.

This Paſſage (we are told) is imitated by Xenophon; and I am ſure the Hiſtorian has not weaken'd it, by drawing it into a greater length, and expreſſing the Circumſtances more fully; Allow me the Satisfaction of reading it to you. b When the Battle was over, one might behold thro' the whole extent of the Field, the Ground dy'd Red with Blood, the Bodies of Friends and Enemies ſtretch'd over each other, the Shields pierc'd, the Spears broken, and the drawn Swords, ſome ſcatter'd [...]n the Earth, ſome plung'd in the Bodies of the Slain, and ſome yet graſp'd in the Hands of the Soldiers.

Now we have faln upon an Hiſtorian, give me leave to obſerve one thing; That, both with Poets and in Hiſtory, c There may be ſome Fraud in ſaying only the bare Truth. In either, 'tis not ſufficient to tell us, that ſuch a City, for Inſtance, was taken and r [...]vag'd with a gre [...]t deal of Inhumanity: There is a Poetical [122] Falſity, if a ſtrong Idea of each particular be not imprinted on the Mind; and an Hiſtorical, if ſome things are paſſed over only with a general mark of Infamy or Diſlike. It was in a Quintilian I firſt met with this Obſervation; and I wiſh our Hiſtorians, of all Parties, did not give us ſo many Examples of it, as we find every where in their Works.

'Tis the ſame in Poetry: when all the Circumſtances are laid out in their proper Colours, and make a compleat Piece; its Images ſtrike us with greater Energy, than when the Whole of the thing is only mention'd in general. Thus the diffuſed Style has its Propriety under this Head; and makes a larger and more continu'd Impreſſion: as the force of its contrary Excellence, a juſt and emphatical Conciſeneſs, may be more collected, and pierce the deeper. I do not mean when we mention a thing, but when we ſhew it in a few words. There are juſt Miniatures of Great Objects in Poetry, as well as in Statuary or Painting. A Hercules, in little, may have all the Nerves of a Coloſſus: and even that prodigi [...]us Deſign of b Dinarchus might not [123] have been more Gigantick, than Timanthes a his Polyphemus. Noble Images, whether in a large or ſmaller Compaſs, [...]rike the Mind very ſtrongly. Either muſt be according to the Occaſion. Things ſometimes demand to be drawn at full Length, and the Soul requires to expatiate over them: Sometimes they chuſe a more contracted Space; But tho' they loſe from their Size, they loſe no [...]hing of their Spirit. It fills us with a [...]oble and enlarg'd Pleaſure, to conſider [...]he Heavenly Bodies, their Courſes, and [...]heir immenſe Diſtances: at the ſame [...]me, we are ſtruck with a very parti [...]lar Admiration, when we view their [...]tuation and Meaſures in the Orrery.

Any uncommon extenſive Image cauſes [...] Enlargement of our Ideas, and poſ [...]ſes the Mind more compleatly: In [...]ch Caſes 'tis obſervable, that even [...]e Turn of the Verſe may aſſiſt theſe [...]ages. I may ſeem too particular if I [...]y, that large Words and Lines which [...]nſiſt chiefly of long Syllables, may be uſe to extend our Thoughts in con [...]ving any Gigantick form: and yet [...]haps both will be found not unſervice [...]e in Mr. Pope's Deſcription of his Cyclops.

[124]
A Giant-ſhepherd here his flock maintains;
Far from the reſt he ſolitary reigns,
In ſhelter thick of horrid ſhade reclin'd;
And gloomy miſchiefs labour in his mind.
a A Form enormous!—

Or, where we ſee him

214Stretch'd forth in length, o'er half the cavern'd Rock.

Or, when

He ſends a dreadful groan; the rocks around,
c Thro' all their inmoſt, winding caves reſound.

Whether you think this length and heavineſs of the Syllables neceſſary in the preſent caſe, or not; I am ſure, you will allow it to be ſo in Melancholy Images.

Where heavenly-penſive Contemplation dwells,
And ever-muſing Melancholy reigns—

And a Thouſand more.

Homer too in deſcribing a large Object, makes uſe of a word, which of itſelf is d above half a Verſe: and Ovid, on a like Occaſion, joins ſeveral together of an unuſual length. We behold his Aegeon beſtriding his Whale, even in [125] the Turn a of the Words which are to deſcribe him.

Delay and Repetition are ſometimes proper for the ſame Reaſons; There is a Delay almoſt in every Syllable, where Mr. Pope intimates the vaſt ſize of a Stone, as well as the difficulty in heaving it up;

Then heav'd the Goddeſs in her mighty hand
A ſtone, the limit of the neighbouring land,
(b) There fixt from eldeſt times; black, craggy, vaſt.

Virgil adds a Repetition in his Imitation of this very Paſſage in Homer: Saxum circumſpicit ingens, ſaxum anti [...]um, ingens—And Mr. Pope commends the Beauty of this Repetition, as c it makes us dwell upon the Image, and gives [...]s leiſure to conſider the Vaſtneſs of it.

It may ſeem ſtrange, that the Vaſtneſs, the mere Bulk of an Object, ſhou'd poſſeſs the Mind in the manner I have been [...]peaking of: but tho' there is no real Ex [...]ellence in Largeneſs, 'tis certain that [...]e are apt to apprehend it as excellent. This puts me in Mind of a Point, that [...]lways ſtrikes me very much in Poetry; 219 [126] A ſort of Comprehenſion, as I ſhould chuſe to call it, for want of ſome better Name. 'Tis when any Great View is compleatly contracted into a few Lines; but to come up perfectly to my Notion, it ſhould be ſuch a View as is ſufficient to fill the whole Mind: We are, in a manner, ſurrounded with it on all ſides; and which ever way we turn our Eyes, we cannot look out of i [...]. This is the Caſe, where Ulyſſes is repreſented in his Shipwrack on the Coaſt of Phoeacia;

Above, ſharp Rocks forbid acceſs; around,
a Roar the wild Waves; beneath, is Sea profound!

If you can fancy yourſelf in the Place of Ulyſſes, at that Juncture; you will apprehend what I mean the more fully. You can then ſee nothing, but what is painted out in this Couplet.

I apprehend you, (ſays Antiphaus) and indeed have obſerv'd this Beauty often in Reading. There is a Thought, (if I miſtake not) repeated twice in the Eleventh Odyſſey, of this kind:

b Above, Below, on Earth, and in the Sky.

I know not whether the Image be Total, but it cannot want much of it, in [127] that Deſcription of a ſhipwreckt Perſon, juſt before the Lines you repeated:

Amidſt the rocks he hears a hollow roar
Of murm'ring ſurges breaking on the ſhore;
Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,
To ſhield the veſſel from the rolling ſea;
But cliffs, and ſhaggy ſhores, a dreadful ſight,
a All rough with rocks, with foamy billows white.

If this be not Total, at leaſt it will engroſs Two of your Senſes, whilſt you keep in the ſame Poſture; but thoſe, as you ſay, ſeem the moſt compleat, which take up the Eye what ever way you turn.—As this (reſum'd Philypſus) to keep to the ſame Element:

b And all above was sky, and ocean all around.

Theſe Total Views are much more vigorous and affecting, when the Objects are not inanimate: or at leaſt, when, ſome more moving Conſiderations are annext to them. Thus in the Picture of a rough Sea, terminating in craggy Shores, and Rocks, and a tempeſtuous Sky, every Object has an additional Terror from our ſeeing Ulyſſes painted in the midſt of theſe Dangers, and ſtruggling to make ſo difficult a Shore.—I [128] remember a Paſſage of this kind in a Writer of a very ſtrong Imagination, which is heighten'd by the ſame Method. We have it in a Deſcription of Mount Atlas, tho' I believe the Author took his Ideas from the Alps: 'tis deliver'd in this bold Poetical kind of Proſe: a ‘See, with what trembling ſteps poor Mankind tread the narrow Brink of the deep Precipices! from whence with giddy Horror they look down, miſtruſting even th [...] Ground which bears them; whilſt they hear the hollow ſound of Torrents underneath, and ſee the Ruin of the impending Rock, with falling Trees, which hang with their Roots upwards, and ſeem to draw more Ruin after them.—’

In theſe Caſes, our Paſſions, as well as our Senſes, are engag'd: and I take ſuch Views to be then entirely compleat, when all our Paſſions, as well as all our Senſes, may be engroſs'd by them. Were I to give an Inſtance of ſuch a View, I ſhould prefer that Paſſage in Virgil, where he places you in the midſt of a City, cover'd with the diſmal ſhades of Night, taken and fir'd in a Thouſand places by the Enemy, and every where fill'd with Ruin, Terror, and Confuſion:

[129]
a—Crudelis ubique
Luctus, ubique Pavor, & plurima mortis imag [...].

I have dwelt the longer on theſe Comprehenſive Views, as they fill and delight the Mind very ſtrongly. There is another Caſe, much of this Nature, and of particular Energy: I do not mean, when we ſurround, but when we carry the Mind out to a vaſt extent: As in this Sentiment;

b By Heaven above, by Hell beneath.

There is a Thought of this Nature, very juſtly reckon'd among the Sublime, which appears with a perfect Uniformity in c Virgil, in Homer, and in the Book of Wiſdom, formerly aſcrib'd to Solomon: For my part, I do not at all wonder at this exact Reſemblance in them. It is ſuch a Thought, that when it is once ſet before one, it poſſeſſes the Mind ſo ſtrongly, that it will leave its Image behind it: And indeed 'tis obſerable, that a great Critick, where he [130] wou'd applaud it in Homer, a repeats it himſelf in the very turn of his own Criticiſm. Longinus is the Perſon I mean: who in a thouſand Inſtances, as well as this,

b—Is himſelf the great Sublime he draws.

One of the moſt common Topicks for this among the Poets, is in ſpeaking of the diſtance of Tartarus. Homer makes it as far from Hell to Earth downwards, as it is upwards from Earth to Heaven: It has been c obſerv'd, that Two of the beſt Poets ſince have enlarg'd it gradually, Virgil to Twice, and Mil [...]on to Thrice that Depth: but, if I miſtake not, Heſiod of old has carried the Mind further than either of them: It wou'd pleaſe you to ſee, how exact he is in his Meaſures: d ‘An Anvil (ſays he) will be Nine days compleat in falling from Heaven to our Earth; and as many in falling from our Earth to Tartarus.—This is the Diſtance from us to the Gates of Tartarus only: he afterwards carries the Mind much farther, in this Deſcription:

There lye the Treaſures of the ſtormy Deep,
Of Earth, and Water, and extended Darkneſs.
[131] A dreadful Chaſm! ſqualid, and uninform'd,
And hateful even to Gods. Whoe're, within
The dreadful Opening of its Gates, ſhou'd plunge
Prone thro' the great abyſs; twelve times the courſe
Of the Pale Moon, ſhould feel it [...] Storm and Tempeſt
In dire Deſcent; ſtill hurried on precipi [...]ate,
Amidſt the various Tumult and Confuſion
Of diſagreeing Natures. Oft the Pow'rs
Immortal caſt their Eyes upon theſe regions,
a And ſhudder at the Sight.—

This Imagination ſeems to be imitated in Milton, where Satan meets with that violent ſhock, in Travelling thro' Chaos; but the Fall here ſtrikes us more, becauſe it has no Bounds: It is ſtill continuing lower and lower; and the Mind, in endeavouring to conceive it, is loſt in its deſired Infinitude.

When our Bodies are all ſo ſtraiten'd and confin'd, what muſt the Soul be made of, Antiphaus? and what might be its Powers, if unreſtrain'd? Since even in ſuch dull Company as the Body, with all theſe Weights and Incumber [...]ents about it, it betrays on every the [...]alleſt Occaſion ſuch an Appetite to [...]nfinity?

Mr. Addiſon, in one of his fineſt Works, [...]he Eſſay on the Pleaſures of the Imagination, [132] reckons Greatneſs as firſt among thoſe things, which give that a Pleaſure: ‘Nothing (ſays he) b gratifies the Mind ſo much, as thoſe large growing Ideas, which lead her on almoſt to an Infinitude. c Our Imagination loves to be fill'd with an Object, or to graſp at any thing that is too big for its Capacity: We are flung into a pleaſing Aſtoniſhment at ſuch unbounded Views, and feel a delightful Stillneſs and Amazement in the Soul, at the Apprehenſions of them.’

Every one may know this Pleaſure by Experience: 'Tis not a dry Maxim laid down by the Philoſophers: Whoever will conſult his own Mind, when he looks only on a Proſpect, may ſay as much as Mr. Addiſon, or Mr. Locke have on this Occaſion. When I had the Pleaſure of Converſing with the Gentleman, who deſign'd theſe Gardens, (as indeed the Fineſt in the Nation owe their Beauty to his Directions) I was very much pleas' [...] with a Maxim which he then mention'd ‘That as the greateſt fault in a Proſpe [...] was Confinement; So the meaneſt thin [...] too in a Deſign, was to have th [...] [133] Bounds and Reſtraint of it immediately viſible.’

There may be ſeveral other Points to be conſider'd under the Character of Emphatical, whether from the Strength of the Language, the Nobleneſs of the Sentiment, or the Greatneſs and Extent of the Object itſelf: but I am only giving a few Sketches of the Kind: You will give me leave, in the ſame manner, to take a ſhort View of its Contrary, the Low or Mean Stile.

It has been ſaid, That a Lowneſs [...]as juſt as many Cauſes, as Elevation; ſince whatever raiſes the Sentiment or Diction has its Oppoſite, which is Mean. This has the Appearance of Truth; but if one general Meaſure muſt be giv'n, I ſhould think that it is an Exceſs either way, which cauſes Meanneſs. Things over-wrought, as well as things under-wrought, will be Mean.

When the leaſt Object is expreſs'd in juſt and proper Terms, it will not of itſelf come under the Character of Meanneſs: Nay, ſmall things may be manag'd ſo, as to change their Nature, and to [134] compoſe the Grand Air. We meet with Diſſertations on the late Diſcoveries in the leſſer World of Animals, which have ſomething Great and Sublime in them. Littleneſs itſelf may be aſſiſtant too in Amplifying a Subject: Homer uſes it thus in his Character of Tydeus; and 'tis viſible to any one, That bold Martial Atcheivments look greater in a Naſſa [...], than they wou'd in a Maximin.

Such Conſiderations as theſe have induc'd me to imagine, That all Meanneſs ariſes from ſome Diſproportion, or other. When a Perſon is repreſented in a View beneath himſelf, or any Action of Force is expreſs'd weakly, the Expreſſions fall ſhort of the Nature of the Thing: Again, that Meanneſs, which ariſes from the Language, may have the ſame Meaſure [...] The Cloſe of a Sentence may fall beneat [...] the Expectance rais'd in the Beginnin [...] of it, and then will neceſſarily have a mean Air. Some ſorts of Poetry are o [...] a nobler kind; and Deſcriptions of things that would not be Mean in a Sonnet o [...] Satire, may become ſo in Epick. In general, all vulgar Terms, and all ver [...] diſagreeable Deſcriptions, are beneat [...] the Heroick Stile: as all Triflings, o [...] any Affectation of Ornament, argu [...] ſomething beneath the Care of a Poet [135] who has taken upon him to rule the nobler Paſſions, and to ſing of Heroes and of Gods.

When any thing has an Epithet higher, than its own Nature and the Occaſion requires; or lower, than the proper Idea of the thing might very well demand; 'tis much the ſame; in both there w [...]ll be a Diſproportion, and a Meanneſs. Thus,

[...]e mindful of yourſelves draw forth your Swords,
a And to your Shafts obtend theſe [...] [...].

And this Line,

b [...]is Shoulder blade receiv'd th' [...] [...]

The ſame Critick, who obſerves on a certain Writer, for ſaying, That ſome Perſons who were Shipwreckt met with [...]n Unpleaſant Death; is equally ſevere [...]n thoſe, who carry things too [...]ar; he [...]anks any vain (c) Elevations, and the [...]uerile Stile, under one and the ſame [...]ead.

Indeed Both are frigid, and Both are [...]ean. A little or pretty Thought dreſs'd [...]p in grand Words, is like the C [...]pid, in 239 [136] one of Coypel's Pieces, who is crept into Mars's Armour, and looks as if he was endeavouring to ſtrut about in it: Whilſt a great Thought in little Words, puts one in Mind of that tall Gentleman we ſaw one Night at the Maſquerade, dreſſed like an Infant; and dangling its Hands, as if it were perfectly helpleſs.

A Mixture of Mean Language with the Grand, makes the Meanneſs more viſible; as poſſibly in this Line,

a Stript of his rags—He blaz'd out like a God

Thus where a Libation to the Gods, i [...] c [...]l'd b An Holy Beverage in the [...] and Mars c the Heavenly Homi [...]e in the Iliad.

There ſeems to me to be ſomething [...]oo mean for the Ide [...] we form of a Giant, in this Expreſſion;

d Her * Husband ſcowr'd away—

And juſt after;

The Men like fiſh, they ſtuck upon the flood,
e And cram'd their [...]ilthy throats with hum [...] food

[137] In the ſame manner we hear of Ulyſſes's Companions, being a daſh'd like Dogs by the Cyclops.

I doubt not this was expreſs'd thus, to give us the larger Idea of that Monſter: but might not it have been expreſs'd ſo, as to ſerve that purpoſe, without giving us at the ſame time too low an Idea of the Men?

The Dignity of the Perſon will make any mean Language appear yet meaner. Whether we conſider Ulyſſes as b ſo great an Hero, or as the c Godlike Gueſt of Alcinous, this Couplet ſounds beneath his Character:

d—Shrunk with pining fa [...]t,
My craving bowels ſtill require repaſt.

Nothing can be more juſt than Horace's Obſervation, e That a King in Exile, or Diſt [...]eſs, muſt lay aſide that Air of Grandeur, and thoſe ſwelling Words which might [...]come him in his Power: Yet muſt he remember, that he has been a King: [...]here's a Greatne [...]s even in D [...]ſtr [...]ſs; and a due Medium between Words of a [...]oot-and-a-half Long, and Monoſyllable [...]. Be that as it will, there is certainly muc [...] [138] Reaſon, that he ſhould reaſſume his Style with his Dignity: and (whatever may be ſaid for that Speech of Ulyſſes in his Wanderings) after he is reinſtated, he ought certainly to ſpeak like a Monarch. I am afraid he fails in this reſpect, in the following Lines:

[...]e it my care, by loans, or martial toils,
To throng my empty'd folds, with gifts or ſpoils:
But now I haſte to bleſs L [...]ertes's eyes,
a With ſight of his Ulyſſes e're he dies;

When the God of the Ocean ſees Ulyſſes eſcap'd from his Dominion, he is ſo much provok'd, that he flies immediately to the Throne of Jupiter, to lay his Complaints before the Father of the Gods; Let us hear part of his Speech on this grand Occaſion:

Againſt yo [...] deſtin'd head in vain I ſwore,
And menac'd vengeance e're he reach'd the ſhore;
b Behold him landed—careleſs and aſleep.

When an Expectation is rais'd by the preceding Verſes, and little or nothing follows upon this Expectation;—We need not quote c Horace to prove that it will be Mean; every one will ſee it; [139] and every one may ſee, that it ariſes from the Diſproportion.

I have often obſerv'd, how fatal this Particular is to that ſort of People, who are known by the Character of Story-tellers. The greateſt baulks theſe Gentlemen meet with, are occaſion'd by their beſpeaking Attention too much; and after all, ending in ſome inconſiderable Circumſtance: There is a certain Paſſage in the Odyſſey, which puts me in Mind of this Diſaſter ſo common to them:

Pr [...]pare then ſaid T [...]lemachus, to know
a A Tale, from falſhood free, not free from woe.

What follows upon this? No earthly thing, I'gad, as Mr. Bays has it; only that he is the Son of Ulyſſes, and that he is ſearching after the King his F [...]ther.

There is another b Inſtance of this Nature, in that important Dialogue, between Neptune and Jupiter [...] juſt mention'd.

Of this kind alſo is a certain Figure, which Mr. Addiſon c calls an Anti-climax: A Downfall in the Cloſe, where a Paſſage has been very promiſing in the [140] Beginning. I remember he quotes a a French Couplet upon that Occaſion, which I ſuppoſe was deſign'd for Ridicule; but there are many Inſtances of it, from more ſerious Writers. Such is what a Grave Doctor has ſaid in his Character of your Miltonick Friend, Mr. Philips: 'tis deliver'd in this grand air of Prophecy. Mr. Philips's Poems (ſays he) will laſt, as long as Blenheim is remembred, Or b Cyder drunk in England.

I beg leave to mention one thing, ſays Antiphaus,—What You have been ſaying, may afford the reaſon, why that Species of Criticiſm, which goes upon Ridicule (in the manner of the Hind and Panther) is not to be depended upon: The beſt Lines that ever were wrote, may be render'd Ridiculous, only by raiſing too great an Expectation in the Reader, juſt before they are introduc'd in the Criticiſm.

There is another kind of Littleneſs (proceeded Philypſus) when the Language does not become the Poetick Stile; all Proſaick Poetry, or (as Dr. Garth us'd to call it) a Diction loytering into Proſe, carries ſomething of meanneſs with it; ſomething [141] below the Harmony, the Emotion, the Majeſty, that is requir'd from the Epick Muſe.—Here are two or three Couplets which I think deſcend too near to Proſe;

And now Telemachus, the firſt of all,
a Obſerv'd Eum [...]eu [...] entring in the Hall.
—Let Eurymachus receive my g [...]eſt.
b Of nature courteous, and by far the beſt.
His food an herald bore; and now they fed,
c And now the rage of craving Hunger fl [...]d.

It might be thought too trifling to obſerve, that this Meanneſs is often owing to an ill-judg'd uſe of Monoſyllables. d A Long Run of theſe little Pigmy Words, beſide an unavoidable Air of Meanneſs, often makes a Line rough, and hobling; and almoſt ever keeps it from being firm, and compact.

'Tis very rare, that you meet with a Latin Verſe terminating in a ſingle Monoſyllable; and ſometimes, where we do meet with it, 'tis evidently e deſign'd to aſſiſt in expreſſing the Littleneſs or Ridiculouſneſs of the Subject.

[142] Unleſs it be thus deſign'd, or be ſignificant, a Verſe (even an Hemiſtick) may be render'd Mean, merely by conſiſting of theſe little Words. I know there are entire Lines of them that are tolerable, nay, that run with ſome degree of Vigour; as this in the Odyſſey,

a [...]re yet he loos'd the Rage of War on Troy.
And that Cloſe in Shakeſpear,
Cry'd Havock; and l [...]t ſ [...]p th [...] D [...]gs of War.

The Sentiments here are ſo great, that they take us off from obſerving the Littleneſs, which the Dictio [...] might otherwiſe Occaſion: Yet, to ſpeak my Mind, I believe that theſe very Thoughts wou'd appear more Majeſtically in large adequate Expreſſions.

Beſide this Littleneſs from the Nature of words, there is oftentimes a Meanneſs annex'd in our Thoughts to ſuch particular Words and Phraſes. All mere Vulgar ways of [...]peaking are mean in Poetry.—The Muſe ſhou'd reject any low P [...]overbs, and the Language of the Croud—Even the Ideas of things, in which they particularly ar [...] employ'd, [143] are [...]ullied and debas'd—I believe I may add, that whatever has an Air of Burleſque, or has been markt for ridiculous on any other Occaſion, will be apt to retain ſomething of the Mean, where-ever it is us'd.

His Shoulder blade receiv'd th'ungentle ſhock;
He ſtood and mov'd not, like a marble rock,
a But ſhook his thoughtful Head.—

I doubt not, I have formerly met with ſomething in Burleſque, to which this Paſſage has a diſtant Reſemblance: tho' the thing itſelf be gone out of my head, the diſtaſt to ſuch a particular Expreſſion ſtill remains with me. 'Tis true, this wou'd not juſtify a Criticiſm; and yet it leads one unavoidably to diſlike the Paſſage.—This ſort of Acquir'd Meanneſs may be ſometimes more general: as where Menelaus calls Telemachus, b The Mirror of conſtant Faith; This Expreſſion has been ſo often us'd in a ridiculous [...]ort of Writings, that it will ſound mean to the generality of thoſe that [...]ear it.

A Star-light Evening, and a Morning Fair.—

[144] —Is a Line in Dryden's Virgil, a condemn'd by a very exact Critick, upon account of its being Low and Mean. 'Tis of the acquir'd kind. Any one, who has been at all converſant with the Poetry of a Belman, will certainly look upon it with ſomething of Contempt: Yet is there nothing Mean in it of itſelf; and a Critick in France might think it a good handſome Line. But the beſt Expreſſions degenerate, when us'd by the Populace, and applied to low things: the uſe, they make of them, infects them with a low abject Air.

Thus Proverbial Speeches, and all other Expreſſions very common among us, become unworthy of our Poetry. Foreign Proverbs are often great and emphatical to us; as many of ours may ſound great to Foreigners: yet at home, both, if vulgar, will be apt to appear mean; or at leaſt, unfit for Poetry. One Inſtance, or two will be ſufficient: in the Tenth Odyſſey we have this Line;

b With broken hearts my ſad companions ſtood.

And this in the 22d,

c—Dogs, Ye have had your Day.—

[145] I ſhall not preſume to ſay, how far the Odyſſey or Iliad might be blameable for any of theſe Meanneſſes in the Days of Homer himſelf: it is the Priviledge of every dead Language, to be entirely free from them at preſent. We hear not the Proverbs, nor know the current Ridicule of thoſe Times. His Language is ſafe enough from the Vulgar now; And as to any Words, that might be vulgar enough then, to ſeem low, we are in an entire ignorance. This is a conſiderable Advantage which the Ancients have over every Living Writer; and for which, by the way, there ſhould be a large allowance made in any Compariſon between an Ancient and a Modern.

Thus any Meanneſs that is acquir'd, may be loſt again, or worn off by Time and Accidents. It is not ſo with Meanneſs in the Things themſelves. They have ſomething ſettled in them; and ar [...] deliver'd down to us thro' the Stream of Ages, unalter'd and the ſame. Perhaps, if we would take off the Veil, which Superſtition has flung over the Worſhippers of Homer, we might diſcern ſome traces of this in the Converſation of the Suitors; in the Scene at Eum [...]us's Lodge; and in Sicily, when we are with [146] the Cyclops. 'Tis true, the Odyſſey is built upon an humbler Plan: Homer ſuits himſelf to his Deſign: and it may be very juſtly ſaid (with Mr. Pope) a "That where this Poem cannot ſupport a Sublimity, it always preſerves a Dignity, or at leaſt a Propriety. If theſe Points may fail in Dignity, they have always ſome Propriet [...] in the Poem; either from the Speaker or the Audience, or the Occaſion.

To return to the Tranſlation. Every Idea that has ſomething aukward in it, has ſomething mean, and ridiculous: The firſt Laugh in the Iliad i [...] occaſion'd by the aukward Behaviour and odd Addreſs of Vulcan; as the only Laugh in the Aeneid is rais'd on the untoward figure, which Menaetes makes i [...] that Poem.

There ſeems to me to be ſomethin [...] Mean and Aukward in this Image:

His looſe head tottering as with wine oppreſt,
b Obliquely drops, and nodding knocks his brea [...]

Perhaps the Sneezing-piece in the 17 [...] Book, c borders too much on the ſam [...] Fault; or, if it be no Fault, on the ſam [...] Diſagreeableneſs.

[147] For the ſame Reaſon, all Deſcriptions that have any thing of the Nauſeous in them, might be avoided in Poetry, or at leaſt be but ſlightly touch'd in it: I cannot think 'tis any particular niceneſs or effeminacy in my Temper, which inclines me to wiſh, that the Colours had not been laid on ſo ſtrongly on ſome a Occaſions. The worſt Image I know of this kind is in the deſcription of the Drunken Cyclops: and what is ſurprizing [...]o me, the very ſame Groſſneſs, on the [...]ame Occaſion, is kept up in (b) ſeveral [...]f the beſt Poets that ever wrote.—Here [...]ou will forgive me, if I am ready to [...]nk under Authority, in a Point where [...]y very Senſes almoſt contradict it. [...]ut when ſuch great Names, as Homer, [...]irgil, Pope, and Add [...]ſon may be produ [...]ed to defend one and the ſame Deſcip [...]on, what are we to think, Antiphaus? [...]an we ſay a thing is not offenſive, when [...]e feel the contrary? or muſt we al [...]w, that Nature ought to be juſtly and [...]lly expreſs'd, even in the moſt nauſe [...]s of Subjects?

It cannot be deny'd (anſwer'd Anti [...]aus, after having turn'd the Queſtion. [148] for ſome time in his Mind) every Deſcription that is juſt, is poetically good; but then I fancy, 'tis as true, that a Deſcription poetically good, may be the more improper to be inſerted, on that very Account. This will be readily allow'd in all Caſes of Obſcenity: The b [...]t Deſcription in ſuch Points is certainly the moſt improper; and ſurely the ſame will hold in a great Meaſure of any Images directly nauſeous. We have, you ſay, the Examples of the greateſt Poets that ever wrote, againſt us: but i [...] the reaſon of the thing be againſt them [...] no Authority whatever, nor any numbe [...] of Examples, can be of the leaſt rea [...] W [...]ght. I am delighted with the Corre [...]tneſs of a Virgil or an Addiſon; I ad [...]re Pope, and reverence Homer. Bu [...] were there any one piece of Obſcenity [...] the Works of all theſe Great Men, wou' [...] ſuch a deſcription alter its Nature, an [...] become amiable? 'Tis the ſame in othe [...] Caſes, as well as in Obſcenities: A [...] things, that have ſomething in the [...] nature Diſagreeable, will ſtill be [...] agreeable, where-ever we find 'em.

The Line you hint at in the Drun [...] Cyclops cannot but carry a very nauſeo [...] Idea with it: and had Mr. Pope deviat [...] from the Original, and dropt it in [...] [149] Engliſh, I am perſwaded moſt people wou'd have look'd upon it, as a commendable Injury to his Author; I remember a a Paſſage (of this Nature, tho' leſs groſs than this) in the Iliad, which Mr. Pope has improv'd by concealing the Groſſneſs of it; and in the Note upon it, he ſays, 'tis unworthy of Homer; he does not ſee any Colour to ſoften [...]he Meanneſs of it; it muſt ever have been [...]oo nauſeous to be deſcrib'd.

What fine Criticks ſhould we make, [...]ays Philypſus, ſince we can be both ſo [...]eady to wiſh a Tranſlator had err'd more [...]requently from his Copy?—But [...]hatever thoſe ſevere Gentlemen may [...]ink, we ſhould certainly have a large [...]arty on our ſide in the preſent Caſe. [...]hat would they ſay to another Prin [...]ple? That it may be neceſſary to de [...]ate from the Words of the Original, to [...]eſerve the Senſe of it: And yet this [...]ay happen; As, for Inſtance, where [...]r Notions of things are directly conary to what was thought of them in [...]omer's Days.

Words are to be conſider'd, not as [...]nds, but as they are Significant: and ſtrict Tranſlator ſhould endeavour [150] chiefly to give us the ſame Ideas which the Writer he repreſents, gave to his Readers. It is on this Account I ſhould take a The Monarch of the Swains, for Inſtance, to be a juſter Tranſlation of [...], than the Chief Swine-herd would have been. In the preſent acceptation of things, a literal Tranſlation would have been a Traveſty: it would have made that ridiculous and mean, which was not mean or ridiculous in the Original.

Of old, Uſeful Employments were alſo Honourable. The chief Courtiers were Maſters of the Flocks and of the Herds: A Skill in Agriculture was reckon'd a very handſome part in the Character of a Monarch: Homer b places it upon a [...]evel with Military Science; and looks upon the Reputation it deſerves, as equal to the Glory acquir'd by Atchievements in War.

To preſerve ſomething of theſe c Primitive Notions of things, at leaſt not to ſink into thoſe very low Ideas, which we in the preſent world entertain of ſuch ſorts of Arts and Employments, a Tranſ [...]ator of Homer is oblig'd to vary the [151] Expreſſions in common uſe for the ſame things: Nothing wou'd be more ridiculous now, than to call a Firſt Miniſter, by the Name of a Hog-herd; or to ſay of Kings, that they overlook'd the Dairy.

There are ſome other Points, relating to the Manners of Antiquity, which may require ſome Alterations in the turn of expreſſing them. I have been too tedious already; Let me only mention one Particular of this kind, and I have done [...] The Heroes of Old, in rating each other, are very free with the mutual Terms of Dogs, Cowards, Villains &c. In the Odyſſey we have a Queen calling one of her Maids of Honour, an Impudent Bitch; and Jupiter, if I miſtake not, pays exactly the ſame Compliment to his Royal Conſort in the Iliad. I think no one can diſpute which is the better Tranſlation in the former Caſe, The New, which makes Penelope call her Servant a a Loquacious Inſolent; or the Literal of Hobbes:

Bold Bitch (ſaid ſhe) I know what de [...]ds you've done [...]

This is equally a miſ-repreſentation of Fact, and ſhocking in its very ſound; It offends the Ear, and makes one ſ [...]artle [152] at the Behaviour of Penelope: A Reader ought to think that Lady well bred: This he cannot do, at leaſt he will be prejudic'd not to do ſo, by hearing ſuch Language now, however decent it might be thought in thoſe Times.

I am oblig'd to you (ſays Antiphaus, perceiving that Philypſus ſtopt here) for the fair account you have given of theſe Lowneſſes in an Epick Poem: I know not whether your general rule of Meanneſs will hold in every Point, that might be mention'd; but in thoſe you have produc'd, it ſeems to ſquare very well. I imagine too, there is one Particular, of pretty large extent in this Queſtion, not yet touch'd upon.—There may be ſeveral; but you have all that I have obſerv'd, ſays Philypſus—I doubt not (ſays Antiphaus) you have obſerv'd the ſame thing, and put it under ſome other Head; You muſt know, I wou'd rank all Thoughts which border on Puerility, all cold Fancies, all forc'd Antitheſes, and any mere turns, and ſporting upon words, under the Claſs of Meanneſſes in an Epick Poem.—As you have hinted ſuch a Variety of Subjects, ſays Philypſus, will you not compleat the Favour, and afford ſome Inſtances too under theſe Heads? [153] —What I can recollect (reply'd An [...]iphaus) is at your Service.

Does not there ſeem to you to be ſomething Affected and Cold in this Thought, which I doubt not many will be apt to take for a pretty Claſh in the Ideas.

Here ceas'd he; but indignant tears let fall;
a Spoke when he Ceas'd.

Such is this Thought;

b And my toſt limbs now wearied into reſt.

Nothing is meaner than what is overwrought: I own 'tis in Poetry, as in Statuary; Figures that are to be ſet up at ſuch a height muſt be ſomething larger than the Life; but even then there are exact Rules of Propor [...]ion, and nothing is to appear too Vaſt to the Eye.

In giving ones Opinion of an exquiſite Statue we may ſay, it lives or ſpeaks: but when we go to refine on this, we grow affected and mean. Pardon me if I take this to be the Caſe in the laſ [...] Line of this Couplet:

Alive each animated Frame appears;
c And ſtill to live, beyond the Power of Year [...]

[154] I was formerly pleas'd with the In [...]cription under a Saint Bruno in Italy; but give it up now as carried too far; it tells us, as you may remember, a That He is alive, and wou'd ſpeak, were it not for the Rules of Silence he had eſtabliſh'd. A Man muſt underſtand the Hiſtory of the Grand Chartreux to take the meaning of this; and after all, it appears too forc'd and artificial.

A Fault of this kind is the more evident, when the Thoughts and Language look noble about it:

There terrible in arms Ulyſſes ſtood,
b And the dead Suitors almoſt ſwam in blood.

You know a late excellent c Philoſopher has endeavour'd to prove that no Action, which diſagrees with truth, can be good; and I ſhou'd not be new or ſingular in my Opinion, were I to aſſert the ſame of any point in Poetry. Every one knows, the Dialogues of one of the moſt d penetrating Criticks in the laſt Age, are wrote chiefly in this View. He aſſerts conſtantly, that no Thought can be good, which is not Poetically [155] true; and I imagine this that he aſſerts, may be defended as eaſily in the Fiction [...] of Poetry, as in any of the plaineſt Paſſages. But ſuch an Enquiry wou'd take up more time [...] than Cr [...]ticiſm deſerves; and I mention it at preſent only as a Meaſure of ſuch Thoughts as are mean from their being falſe, i. e. really beneath what they pretend to be.—This Rule, if juſt, wou'd be of particular ſervice in this kind of Purſuits: I ſhall give you but one I [...]ſ [...]ance; When Circe mentions Ulyſſes's deſcent to the Infernal Shades, ſhe adjoins this Reflection.

O Sons of woe! decreed by adverſe Fates,
Alive to paſs thro' hells eternal Gates!
All ſoon or late, are doom'd that path to tread;
a More wretched You, twice number'd with the Dead!

Do you not think this laſt Thought has ſomething Weak and Little in it? according to your general Rule, it fails in its Proportion; That Proportion, I mean, which every Thought ſhould bear to Truth.

If it fails in that, ſays Philypſus, I muſt allow it to be Mean by my own Rule; but I do not perceive in what reſpect that Sentiment is falſe.

[156] No! ſays Antiphaus; I beg you would conſider the very Word on which the whole of the Reflection turns: It has plainly too Significations widely different. If their being n [...]mber'd with the Dead, be taken in its ſtrongeſt Senſe, 'tis certain this did not happen twice to Ul [...]ſſes, and his Companions; if in its weaker on this Occaſion, Their Calamity is put on a Level with ſomething much more terrible and calamitous than it ſelf.

Or thus: If this being twice number'd with the Dead be intended both in the ſame Senſe, the Sentence is directly falſe [...] if in very different unequal Senſes, 'tis fallacious and falſe in its Conſequence.

I beg pardon for putting on this grave face, and affecting ſuch an air of Demonſtration: but you muſt know this Though [...] is exactly the ſame in the Original, o [...] (if any thing) rather more fallacious ther [...] than in the Tranſlation: in ſuch a Caſ [...] all ones Gravity is ſcarce ſufficient; an [...] the Superſtitious perhaps wou'd rathe [...] disbelieve a real Demonſtration, tha [...] allow of any Fault in Homer. I beg Pardon of them, for thus aſſuming th [...] Chair of Criticiſm (as the nobleſt of a human Writers calls it) and am very willing [157] to deſcend, and act in an humbler Sphere.

All ſporting upon Words may ſeem unbecoming of the Epick Muſe: I ſhall leave you to determine how far there may be any ſuſpicion of this in ſome particular Lines.

a Thy laſt of Games unhappy has thou play'd—

—To me has ſome reſemblance to the rebellious Angels in Milton, where they run on in ſuch a vein of inſulting and punning. I know not how far the Original might help in leading a Tranſlator into the former Turn; but here is another Line which runs into it, without that wrong biaſs.

b They on the future banquet feaſt their eyes.

I ſhould think this yet more improper on any grave or affecting Circumſtance: Do you remember the Death of Antinous in the Odyſſey? 'Tis in the Inſtant of his lifting a Goblet of Wine to his Mouth:

Wretch that he was, of unprophetick Soul!
High in his hand he rear'd the Golden Bowl;
Ev'n then to drain it lengthen'd out his Breath,
c Chang'd to the deep, the bitter draught of Death.

[158] I fear that ſome Points, which generally paſs for Elegancies, are of this kind.—A Caſe, which touches all Readers of a little Taſte very much, is, a when two very different Ideas are join'd to the ſame Verb: This is very frequent in Cowley, and he has been often blamed for it; as in that Inſtance,

b Up roſe the Sun and Saul.

I know not how it is, there is ſomething agreeable in this management of Words, but it is very apt to [...]njure the Senſe. A thinking c French Author lays down a Rule, which is very uſeful towards diſcovering Fallacies in Reaſoning; It is this: To put the Definition inſtead of the Thing defin'd. I have often try'd ſomething of this nature in Poetry; If we make the Experiment in the pre [...]ent Caſe, and inſert the enlarg'd Meaning inſtead of the particular Words uſed by the Poet, we ſhall generally find a Fallacy in this ſort of Verſe; or, at leaſt, a Lameneſs in the Senſe of it.

It will not be any great trouble to try this in one ſingle Point. The Poet [...] [159] ſpeaking of Telemachus's Voyage, uſes this Turn of Expreſſion:

To diſtant Pylos hapleſs is he gone,
a To ſeek his Father's fate, and find his own.

This ſounds very well: but what is the meaning of the word Fate, which is of ſuch double Service upon this Occaſion? Try it in your own Mind:

To diſtant Pylos hapleſs is he gone,
To ſeek (whether his Father be dead or not) and find—What?

There's no need of trying it, ſays Philypſus; I allow it to be d [...]ficient upon the firſt hearing: But by the way, I wonder you let the Antitheſis in it eſcape ſo peaceably!

Indeed I am no great Friend to them (reply'd Antiphaus) eſpecially when they are multiplied upon us, as in this Line:

b Duſt mounts in clouds, and ſweat d [...]ſ [...]nds in dews.

I do not fear my Philyp [...]us ſhould miſtake me: it would be too ſ [...]rupulous to diſcard every Antitheſis out of Poetry, as it ſeems affected to run into them very often. Some are of Force and Emphaſis, [160] and ſome agreeable and engaging: Poſſibly, even the Double Uſe of the ſame Word is not abſolutely to be rejected. But however theſe Ornaments may obtain on ſome Occaſions, they [...]eem generally too little and artificial for the more noble Parts of Poetry. They are of the Ovidian kind, rather than of Homer: and are more apt to hit the Taſte of Schoolboys, than of Men.

And now I have mention'd Ovid's manner, give me leave to ſay that (in ſpite of his ſeveral Beauties, and that peculiar Eaſe and Addreſs with which he tells a Story) I fear his Writings are one great Reaſon of the trifling Manner keeping its gr [...]und ſo much in the preſent Age. Ovid is generally made uſe of to initiate our Youths in Parnaſſus: We look upon him as ſoon as ever we open our Eyes to Poetry: He is then, 'tis true, fit for our Taſte; but the misfortune is, he is too Agreeable: 'tis odds but this fondneſs grows up with us; and a falſe taſte of Wit, drawn from him, may inf [...]uence our Writings many Years after we have flung him from our Boſom. The Boyiſms of Ovid, (as Dr. Garth calls 'em) are agreeable enough to infect us to old Age. Mr. Dryden, for Inſtance, was thus infected by 'em. Ovid, and [161] Cowley our Engliſh Ovid, were his favourites at Ten Years old, and his Corrupters at Seventy.

As great Genius's, and more correct Writers, than Mr. Dryden may be touch'd with the ſame Infection; I will give you an Inſtance or two of this, with which a Perſon may be pleas'd, even while he condemns 'em.

a She to her preſent Lord laments him loſt,
And views that object which ſhe wants the moſt.

Again:

His arms he ſtretch'd; his arms the touch deceive;
b Nor in the fond embrace, embraces give.

Any one, the leaſt acquainted with the Manner of the Poets, will readily perceive this to be of the Ovidian kind. It is pretty, and agreeable as Ovid: but to be ſo, it loſes ſomething from the Air of Homer; it ſinks beneath that Simplicity and Nature, which is the diſtinguiſhing Character of his Writings.

Now you mention Mr. Dryden, and this ſort of pretty Writing together, give me leave (ſays Philypſus) to commend one ſort of Turns, which that Critick c [162] judges not only pretty, but really good and ſubſtantial: I will not defend all his Inſtances, but I would engage to do it were they all as good as that from a Virgil.—A very good Critick ſince has treated of this more diſtinctly. His Notions as I remember are, That a dextrous Turn upon Words, is pretty; The Turn upon the Thought, ſubſtantial; but the moſt compleat of all, is when the Turn of the Words and of the Thought concur: b When both our Reaſon an [...] our Ear are entertain'd with a noble Sentiment expreſs'd vigorouſly, and beautifull [...] finiſh'd. I ſhould be glad to know you [...] Opinion, Antiphaus, how far a Perſon might admit theſe Turns, in Heroic [...] Poetry?

As for the firſt (ſays Antiphaus) I believe one might venture to ſay, that i [...] ſhould be rejected univerſally: I am ſ [...] little vers'd in theſe Particulars, that cannot readily ſay any thing as to th [...] ſecond: the other (whether juſtly or no [...] takes one very much. I own, for m [...] part, that I imagine them, not only bea [...] tiful, but uſeful: I remember an Inſtan [...] of c one in Virgil, which fixes the Images [163] very particularly on the Mind; and it is this which helps to touch us in thoſe Lines of Mr. Addiſon, which ſtrike every one who reads them:

The liſtning Soldier [...]ixt in ſorrow ſtands,
Loth to obey his Leaders juſt commands;
The Leader grieves, by generous pity ſway'd
a To ſee his juſt commands ſo well obey'd.

If you ask my opinion in this Point, rude and unſettled as it is; I ſhould think, that no Turns ſhould obtain in an Epick, or any ſolemn Poem, except ſuch as have more Strength, than Beauty: That in leſſer Pieces, thoſe may be allow'd which have more Beauty, than Strength: but that they can be juſtified in no Piece whatever; unleſs they have ſome ſhare of Strength, as well as Beauty.

The great Art of them is to appear Unartful; as in theſe pretty Lines from Mr. Philips's Paſtorals;

Fair is my Flock, nor yet uncomely I
If liquid Fountains flatter not; and why
Should liquid Fountains flatter us [...] yet ſhew
The bordering flowers leſs beauteous than they grow?

As I take it; The Beauty of this Paſſage is in a greater degree, than its [164] Strength; and the natural Air of the Sentiments, is more exquiſite than either: The Turn of the Lines makes them obſerv'd by every Reader more than they would otherwiſe be; and yet that very Turn does not ſeem to be deſign'd, but rather to be the natural reſult of the Shepherd's Thoughts as he ſpeaks them.

If I have ſaid too much, Philypſus, you muſt blame your ſelf for it, who led me from my chief Deſign. I was juſt entering on the ſeveral Natural P [...]eces in the Poem before us.

Some fanciful Writers afford us nothing but Pictures and Deſcriptions: they continue Image after Image; and put one in Mind of thoſe Americans, who, when firſt they were diſcover'd, are ſaid to have us'd Painting inſtead of Writing.

Homer's Judgment will not allow him, in any of his Works, to be thus Perpetual in his Deſcriptions; and the deſign of the Odyſſey will not allow near the variety, which he has very juſtly employ'd in the Iliad. The Odyſſey is a Poetical Treatiſe of Morality: it does not admit of a profuſion of Colours: this is not to be look'd upon as a Defect: we might with the ſame Reaſon blame a [165] Book of Maxims, or Plato's Moral Dialogues, for not having all the Flouriſhes and Charms of Rhetorick.

And as the Plan of the Odyſſey in general excludes that great variety of Deſcription, which abounds in ſome Poems; the chief Scene, in the remaining Part of it, is ſo wholly Domeſtick, that it ſcarce allows room for any thing of that Nature. The Action now is confin'd; it lies all between either the Country-Houſe of Eumaeus, and the Palace; or this latter, and the Gardens of Laertes. What a narrow Scene is this for Deſcription? and yet theſe are the only places capable of any, if you except a two days Journey, and a ſhort Voyage [...]n the 15th, neither of which could be enlarg'd upon without injuring the main Deſign. Homer was unacquainted with the modern Affluence of Painting, whereever there may be any fine Object in the way: As theſe Opportunities offer only in an Epiſode, he paſſes them with the utmoſt diſpatch: we ſee his haſte in the very Lines, and indeed in every one of them diſtinctly:

With ſpeed the maſt they rear, with ſpeed unbind
The ſpacious ſheet, and ſtretch it to the wind:
Minerva calls; the ready gales obey
With rapid ſpeed to whirl them o'er the ſea;
[166] Crunus they paſs'd; next Chalcis roll'd away,—
The ſilver Phaea's glittering rills they lo [...]t [...]
a And skim'd along by Eli's ſacred coaſt.

It might be the indigence of his Subject this way, which induc'd Homer to repeat the view of Hell in the 24th Book; and the wanderings of Ulyſſes in the 23d. But nothing could make him run into Deſcriptions on that Occaſion. We have the Names of Places repeated in Order; and tho' Penelope has the ful [...] Relation, the Reader is only tantaliz' [...] with hearing in general, that,

b H [...] images the rills, and flow'ry vales.

Theſe things, however they had been laid out, wou'd have been only Sideviews. For in the main Scene, as i [...] now lies in Ithaca, I think there are bu [...] four Places capable of Deſcription. If [...] am not miſtaken in this, it will give u [...] great Reaſon to admire the Managemen [...] of Homer; who, as he was too pruden [...] to run out into any impertinent Deſcriptions; at that ſame time, has not omitted any one of thoſe places, that migh [...] very well allow of a Deſcription without wandring. We have diſtinct draughts [167] of Laertes's Gardens, a Eumaeus's Lodge, of b the Royal Palace, and the Road between theſe and the Palace. Theſe compleat the preſent Scene of the Poem; and any one by laying them together, may form an exact Picture of it in his Mind.

Some of theſe have been mention'd already on other Occaſions; and the way from Eumaeus's Houſe to the Metropolis deſerves very well to be mention'd [...]ere: I dare ſay you will think part of [...]t, the moſt delightful Road you ever [...]ravell'd in your Life:

Now paſs'd the rugged Road, they journey down
The cavern'd way deſcending to the Town,
Where, from the rock with liquid lapſe diſtills
A limpid fount; that ſpread in parting rills,
[...]s current thence to ſerve the city brings
An uſeful work; adorn'd by ancient Kings.
[...]itus, Ithacus, Polyctor there
[...]n ſculptur'd Stone immortaliz'd their care;
[...]n marble urns receiv'd it from above,
And ſhaded with a green ſurrounding grove;
Where ſilver Alders in high arches twin'd,
Drink the cool ſtream, and tremble to the wind.
[...]eneath, ſequeſter'd to the Nymphs, is ſeen
A moſſy Altar, deep embower'd in green;
Where conſtant Vows by travellers are made,
c And holy horrors ſolemnize the ſhade.

[168] There is a ſort of melancholly Pleaſure hangs upon the Mind, where-ever we have a View of Laertes in his Retirement. The good Old Prince a Labours thorough Life; he b longs to lay down the Burthen: And when he is not ſo overcome with his Diſtreſs, as to c neglect his Employment in his Gardens, he ſeems buſy rather to d avoid Pain, than to enjoy Pleaſure. Thus is he engag'd, with ſomething of Diverſion, and much of Melancholly, when the Scene changes to his Gardens.

We have not a ſet Deſcription o [...] theſe altogether; but it begins at thi [...] Point, and is carried on e ſucceſſively, till we may eaſily form an Idea o [...] the whole.

Tho' Homer has not wander'd int [...] any Deſcriptions of Places that lay ou [...] of this Scene of the Poem, he has here and all along in the former part of it brought in ſhort Draughts and Side views of things by ſuch Arts, as a [...] ſome of them neceſſary, and all very allowable in Poetry.

Such are all deſcriptive Similies: Where in ſome Picture out of the Subject is borrow'd [169] to illuſtrate any Point that belongs to it. This affords us ſeveral occaſional Pieces, and ſome of them very natural: I have juſt dipt upon one of this ſort. 'Tis juſt after the Slaughter of the Suitors; They are yet gaſping, and Ulyſſes is ſurveying their Bodies, to ſee whe [...]her the Number be compleat:

So when by hollow ſhores the fiſher train
[...]weep with their arching nets the hoary main,
[...]nd ſcarce the meſhy toils the copious draught contain:
[...]ll naked of their Element and bare,
[...]he fiſhes pant, and gaſp in thinner air;
a Wide o'er the ſands are ſpread the ſtiffening prey.

It's a known Remark, that all Allu [...]ons of this kind, drawn from calm Life [...]s Fiſhing, Hunting, and rural Affairs) [...]ave a peculiar Beauty: and 'tis as well [...]own, that they acquire an additional [...]nergy, when they are introduc'd amidſt [...]y Confuſion, or to illuſtrate Images of [...]error. Virgil b has imitated this [...]rt of Contraſt from a Similie in the [...]ad; which affords frequent Inſtances the ſame kind; nor are they wanting the c Poem before us.

[170] The more conciſe and natural any Image, the ſtronger the Illuſtration. How do you approve of this, on a number of Females employ'd at the Loom?

—Their buſy fingers move
a Like Poplar-leaves, when Zephyr fans the grove [...]

When theſe occaſional Images hit i [...] ſeveral Points, they are the more deſcriptive of the things, which they ar [...] brought to Illuſtrate. Homer gives u [...] an Idea of the Spirits in Ades, of thei [...] ſtill Poſture, their Motion, their Confuſion, and the odd Noiſes they utte [...] all in one ſingle Picture of this kind:

Trembling the Spectres glide, and plaintive ve [...]
Thin, hollow Screams, along the deep deſcent.
As in the cavern of ſome rifted Den,
Where flock nocturnal Bats and Birds obſcene;
Cluſter'd they hang, till at ſome ſudden ſhock [...]
They move, and murmurs run thro' all the rock
So cow'ring fled the ſable heaps of ghoſts,
b And ſuch a Scream fill'd all the diſmal coaſts [...]

It ſeems not improper to point o [...] theſe diſtinct Likeneſſes; as the Tra [...] ſlation has done in the preſent Caſ [...] more plainly than the Original; th [...] ſame may be ſaid of c ſome other [...] [171] This is done ſometimes by inſiſting much on one Circumſtance, and a repeating it over and over.

Borrow'd Images appear with a particular Propriety and Grace, when they have ſome near Relation to the Scene, on which the Poem turns at the very Inſtant of applying 'em. Thus in the Battle of Rivers, in the (b) Iliad, every Similie is [...]quatick, and adapted to the Place. Thus if the Swiftneſs of a Deity paſſing [...]'er the Land is to be illuſtrated in this [...]anner, Homer images it by the Swift [...]eſs of an Eagle: but when Mercury is [...]ying over the Sea, by that of ſome c [...]ater-fowl.

The Image of an Angler is us'd in [...]e Iliad, of a perſon in the Field of Bat [...]e; in the d Odyſſey, of perſons at Sea; [...]oth on Occaſions which make that [...]age proper. But it ſeems more pro [...]er in the latter, from the Agreement [...] Place. In this, and all like Caſes, [...]rt of the Picture is nearer to us, and [...]ill be conceiv'd the more readily and early.

There may alſo be ſome propriety [...]om any previous Relation between the [172] Perſon, and the Thing to which he is compar'd. Any faithleſs wavering Creature may be compar'd to the Sea; but it ſtrikes one more, when Venus is ſaid to be as a Inconſtant, as the Waves from whence ſhe ſprung. Any rough Man may be compar'd to the Element, in another view; but there is a peculiar fitneſs in theſe Lines:

A r [...]ce of rugged Mariners are theſe
b Unpoliſh'd Men, and boiſt'rous as their Seas.

I remember, I us'd formerly to be mightily taken with a Similie in the c M [...]ſcipula; and I believe now, it was [...]n this very Account. Ideas, which [...]ave been alreaded join'd on any other Occaſion, will agree the more eaſily on a new one.

The Picture is leſs broken alſo, when the borrow'd Image is adapted to the preſent Circumſtances: Where Penelop [...] is repreſented as chaſt and beautiful, 'tis ſaid ſhe look'd d like Diana with all the Charms of Venus; when her Beauty is the chief Circumſtance to be [173] inſiſted on, ſhe is compar'd to a Venus, without any mention of Diana.

We may obſerve, by the way, that the Heathen Poets, in comparing a Perſon to any of their Deities, had a ſure Method of giving their Readers a Picture of that Perſon. The Statues of their Deities were known by every one; and the Faces of each as well aſcertain'd, as the Faces of the Roman Emperors (for inſtance) can be, by frequently converſing with their Medals; This I take to be one Reaſon, why this ſort of Compariſon is ſo very frequent in the Ancients: The Caſe is very different in any modern Compoſition; tho' we ſeem to be equally fond of the ſame Compariſons.

If it does not add to the Strength, at leaſt it makes the Piece more agreeable, when theſe Images are unuſual. Thus Ulyſſes in his Bed of Leaves, to a b Coal of Fire preſerv'd in the Embers; and before in his raft at Sea, to an c heap of Thorns, driven by the Wind.

There may be a Prettineſs, as well as a Likeneſs in theſe Images; I always us'd to be pleas'd with that Paſſage, where Penelope is compar'd to a d Nightingale; [174] tho' I am more pleas'd with the ſame Image in a Virgil; which, beſide its agreeableneſs, is perhaps the moſt compleat Inſtance, that can be given, of ſuch Similitudes as hit exactly in every Point. Virgil certainly excells Homer in theſe, as we may ſay that Homer excells him in the Vague Similitude; for both have their diſtinct Beauties.

'Tis the proper air of Poetry to be unconfin'd and free: The Muſe loves a flowing Dreſs: Her motions are ever Eaſy, and her very ornaments muſt be Natural. Such is the Muſe of Homer. And hence the Poet, in this ſort of [...] Pictures, does not in the leaſt Scruple [...] to take in ſeveral Circumſtances, that do [...] not affect the main Reſemblance. When [...] a Painter is copying a Piece, he muſt preſerve the Likeneſs; but he may var [...] in the Drapery, the Poſture, the Under [...] figures, and the Scene around 'em.

Thus in Homer's Philomel, the main Likeneſs is very well taken: When the Poet has ſecur'd this, he touches upon the Hiſtory of Itylus; and launches out into Particulars, which are b ſo far [...] from ſquaring with the Caſe of Penelope, that they have no manner of Relation to it [...]

[175] Homer is almoſt ſingular in another ſort of Similie, the Reverſe of the former: when the Principal Figures have in themſelves no Likeneſs, but agree in ſome one Circumſtance of Action. Theſe are very frequent in the Iliad and Odyſſey: and I cannot ſay, whether it be from a true Judgment, or a ſcrupulous Niceneſs, that later Writers endeavour to imitate them but very rarely.

Perhaps this is blameable; and ſo may be that ſtringing of ſeveral Similies together, which we ſometimes meet with in Homer. I do not mean when ſeveral things are choſen to illuſtrate the a ſame Point more fully: but when Similies on different things follow too cloſe on the Neck of one another. In the 2d Iliad, b we have one of theſe ſtrings which takes up thirty Lines; And tho' they are all excellently well choſen, and have one common Point of Union between [...] they may ſeem ſomething faulty, as they are too numerous for the [...]lace in which they ſtand, and too much crouded on one another.

Now I have digreſs'd ſo far on two or three Vices in ancient Similies; I ſhall juſt mention one or two of a later [176] Date. Such is the continued Similie, which is very liable to the great Fault of mixt Metaphors, when a Writer, to lengthen a compariſon, carries it beyond the Likeneſs. I remember one of Mr. Dryden's in a a Dedication, that begins very well. ‘The Greatneſs of Birth ſhews a Nobleman with advantage; but if he degenerates, the leaſt Spot is viſible on Ermine.—This does not ſeem to be continued ſo happily, as it is begun. ‘To preſerve this Whiteneſs in its Original Purity, You (my Lord) have, like that Ermine, forſaken that common tract of Buſineſs, which is not always clean.

The Art of extracting Similies out of a thing directly contrary to your purpoſe, is I think wholly Modern. Every one knows an Inſtance of this in that famous Doctor, who to illuſtrate the Danger of the Church, compares it to one of the Prophets, who was encompaſs'd with [...]emen and Chariots of Fire—for his [...] fence.

Nothing is ſo oppoſite to the Deſign of this Beauty in Poetry, as to labour after a vaſt Number of Likeneſſes in any the minuteſt Points; and to multiply [177] them, rather to ſhew how far the Poets Wit can carry the Reſemblance, than to ſtrengthen the Image of the things deſcrib'd. This deſcends even to playing upon Words; nay ſometime to particularize ſeveral Points in which they are unlike, as well as thoſe in which they agree. This is the Cowlean Similitude: and I could produce a monſtrous Inſtances of it from a very fine Writer, where he endeavours only to imitate Cowley at a Diſtance. 'Tis the ſame Perſon who has introduced Similies into his Proſe, in a manner unknown to the Ancients: but he who would blame any of his Writings of this kind, muſt blame them, as Mr. Locke does Eloquence, with the Tenderneſs of a Lover.

It is not difficult to judge of any Similie, Ancient or Modern. Their b chief Deſign is to make things clear: Obſcurity and Confuſion is their great Fault: Poetry may go much farther in them than Proſe; but, even in Poetry, none can be good, which do not give us [178] either more diſtinct, larger Notions of the thing, or at leaſt of ſome Circumſtance of the thing [...] to be deſcrib'd.

I long to add ſeveral things on this Head; but I have wander'd too far already from our chief Deſign: it is time now to conſider a higher Claſs of Deſcriptions and Images (which we touch'd upon when we were talking over the former Books of the Odyſſey) that Poetical power of expreſſing the Paſſions, and even Ideas yet in the Minds of Men.

I am not angry with You, Philypſus, for preventing much of what might have been offer'd here, when you were conſidering the Starts and Turns, which our Paſſions occaſion in the various manners of Speaking. I know not how ſuch a Notion would appear to the World; but you have thoroughly perſwaded me, that all the Figures of Speech, of the a Nobler Order, are view'd in a truer Light, when we look upon them, as naturally Expreſſive of what we feel within us; than when we conſider them, only as the Arts and Machineries of Writing.

It was on this Occaſion you went thorough the moſt paſſionate Scenes in [179] the Odyſſey; for ſuch are the ſeveral Enterviews in which Ulyſſes makes himſelf known to his a Friends, his b Son, his c Father, and his d Conſort. Penelope's e Speech at that juncture is excellent; and indeed all her Speeches in general are of the Pathetick kind, and (under this view) afford us the moſt beautiful Paſſages in the whole Poem.

To the many things that have been ſaid on the Double Paſſions (as you were pleas'd to let me call them) give me leave to add one particular Caſe more: what I mean, is Diſſimulation. We have frequent Deſcriptions of this in the Odyſſey: Every Inſtance of it (if paſſionate at all) will fall under this Conſideration; and that in the higheſt Degree, as the Paſſion aſſum'd, and the real, are direct Oppoſites. Every one, who only pretends to Courage, is certainly affected with Fear; and when we put on a falſe Gayety, the Heart is as dull and oppreſs'd, as the Countenance is enliven'd.

Could we look into the Breaſt of one who affects a Livelineſs, when his Thoughts are really Gloomy; we ſhould ſee his Spirits in ſuch contrary Emotions, [180] as are deſcrib'd in the Suitors, under thoſe unaccountable mixt fits of Mirth and Heavineſs.—

a Pallas clouds with intellectual gloom
The Suitors Souls, inſenſate of their doom;
A Mir [...]hful phrenzy ſeiz'd the fated croud,
The Roofs reſound with cauſ [...]leſs laughter loud...
Then down each cheek the tears ſpontaneous flow.

Such is that b Smile of Penelope, which has ſomething very uneaſy in it: She ſeems all the while to ſtruggle with her Tears. 'Tis like a tranſient Gleam of Light, when the Heavens are overcaſt: all around is Gloomy; and the Light itſelf is Dim and Wateriſh.

This perhaps is an Inſtance not of the affected, but the natural Kind. 'Tis true, one Paſſion ſometimes uſurps the Effect of another: Without tumbling over Des-Cartes for a Solution of the matter, we know, that an Exceſs of Joy often breaks out into Tears; and that Rage may vent itſelf in a Smile: Theſe indeed are contrary Appearances; but 'tis very different in all Points of Diſſimulation. The Mixture then has ſomething peculiar in it. Contrary to the natural Blending of ſuch Emotions, this [181] has always an Air forc'd and artificial. The Soul was not made to be a Counterfeit: every time we wou'd teach her theſe new Arts, we fling her off her Biaſs, and give her an unnatural Motion. There will ever be ſomething aukward in the Paſſions of the moſt profound Diſſemblers.

Only view Ulyſſes, when he is ſtruck to the Soul with the Affection and Tears of his Penelope, and at the ſame time reſolv'd to conceal thoſe his Emotions from her, as much as poſſible:

a Withering at heart to ſee the weeping fair
His eyes look ſtern, and caſt a gloomy ſtare;
Of horn the ſtiff relentleſs balls appear,
Or globes of iron fixt in either Sphere;
Firm wiſdom interdicts the ſoft'ning tear.

Even Ulyſſes, that Ulyſſes who is ſo b Celebrated among the Ancients for his Command over his Paſſions, does not appear without ſomething forc'd and unnatural in his Looks, amidſt all his Diſſimulation. He can command his Tears; he can command his Tongue; but ſtill his very Features would betray him.

I know not what to ſay to one thing: That Homer makes Diſſimulation one of [182] the greateſt Excellencies of his Hero. The Heathen ſyſtem of Morality was incompleat enough to bear with this proceeding: and even Chriſtians of the greateſt Name have border'd much on the ſame Notions. One of our Ancient Writers, who was as capable as any of them to do it, has a launch'd out into a long defence of uſeful Frauds; and Father Paul, to mention one not inferior among the Moderns, reckons Diſſimulation b expreſsly among the Vertues of Pope Clement the Seventh. I do not mention this as any Argument for the thing; but to extenuate the Proceeding of Homer: 'Tis no wonder that he ſhould miſtake a counterfeit Virtue in the Dark, which ſuch great Men could not diſtinguiſh in the Light.

But whatever Colour Diſſimulation may bear in the Schemes of Morality, it is certainly a great Excellence to paint [183] Diſſimulation well in Poetry. The pretended Paſſion muſt appear moſt ſtrongly, and yet the real Paſſion muſt appear under it. It muſt be like the Drapery in Pictures, which ſhews the turn of the Limbs, at the ſame time that it hides them; and in particular, puts one in Mind of that Veil in Homer, which ſeems and only ſeems to ſhade the Face of Penelope.

There is nothing more difficult in Poetry, than to expreſs juſtly Ideas in the Minds of Perſons whom we deſcribe. But tho' this be the leaſt obvious, 'tis perhaps the moſt agreeable of all Studies. The Poet muſt ſearch carefully into the Nature of Ma [...], and the Working of his Thoughts in general; He muſt know what Emotions are natural on each Accident of Life; and on every ſingle Occaſion is to conſider, not only the Circumſtances of Actions, but alſo the Temper, the Education, and the very make of the Perſon concern'd in them. Theſe will alter Men's Views of the very ſame Point; When Neſtor talks of Atchievements in War, he will dwell chiefly upon the Prudence and Experience of a General; Hector will mention the great effects of Strength and Courage; T [...]deus muſt place the whole on a bold daring Spirit, without taking the Body into the [184] Account; while Polypheme, on the contrary, muſt ſpeak of nothing but the Advantage of a vaſt Size and ſuperior Strength.

A Man's Notions of Excellence are form'd generally from ſome advanc'd Powers of his own. Each Man is apt to make himſelf the Meaſure of all the Species; and his Species the Standard of all Perfection. All Beings above him muſt be exactly like the ſuperior Moyety of his own Being, and all below him muſt be purely of the Inferior. The Vulgar of Mankind form their Heaven hereafter out of thoſe things which have pleas'd them moſt in Life; and the very Notions of the Deity in moſt Men take a Turn from their own Complexions. The God of proud tyrannical Minds is a Being, that delights only in the Glory of being Terrible; as with the ſoft and pitiful, The Deity is all Mercy: the Gods of Epicurus were mere pleaſurable Intelligences; and the Deities of the Irroquois are Mighty Hunters. Commend me to that Philoſopher who ſaid, that were his Horſe to give us his Notion in this Caſe; A Broad Cheſt and a Flowing Mane would certainly be the Principal things in it.

One cannot eaſily apprehend how general an effect this has in the Actings of [185] our Minds. I know not that it is yet deſignedly manag'd in any Syſtem of Philoſophy, (for Mr. Locke's Aſſociation of Ideas ſeems to be ſomething very diſtinct from it) and as it wants a Name, give me leave to call it for the preſent, The Aſſimilation of Ideas.

If you would ſave me from a Fit of Philoſophizing, be ſo good as to reach that Volume of the Odyſſey juſt by you, That I may read you a Paſſage which took with me particularly, on this Account. 'Tis where Ulyſſes has acquainted the Cyclops with his real Name and Character: this is part of the Monſter's Anſwer;

Oh Heavens! oh Faith of ancient Prophecies!
This, Telemus Eurymides foretold:—
Long ſince he menac'd ſuch was Heavens command,
And nam'd Ulyſſes as the deſtin'd hand.
I deem'd ſome Godlike Giant to be hold,
O [...] lofty Hero, haughty brave and bold;
Not this weak Pigmy wretch, of mean Deſign,
a Who not by Strength ſubdu'd me, but by Wine.

Even the Excellence of thoſe things, with which we converſe chiefly, is apt to influence our Thoughts in the ſame manner. Hence the Eaſtern Writers Image the Height and Statelineſs of any [186] illuſtrious Perſon, by Cedars: Homer, by the a Delian-Palm-tree; and Virgil, by what a Britiſh Reader will think the moſt Noble, a b large Lofty Oak.

There's a Paſſage which, I remember, I was mightily pleas'd with formerly, in reading Cervantes, without ſeeing any Reaſon for it at that Time; tho' I now imagine, that which took me in it comes under this View. Speaking of Don Quixot, the firſt time that Adventurer came in ſight of the Ocean, he expreſſes his Sentiments on this Occaſion in the following manner, He ſaw the Sea, which he had never ſeen before; and thought it much bigger than the River at Salamanca.

This Turn of Thought is not ſo commonly obſerv'd perhaps as it might eaſily be in Life. There are other occaſional Traces in the Mind, which are known and obvious: Things that are common in ſome Degree to all Men; and ſuch are all thoſe Apprehenſions which follow from any Maſter-Paſſion. One might expat [...]ate here very Agreeably on each of them; but I am ever apt to be too Tedious; and will therefore confine my ſelf to one ſingle Paſſion, that of Fear.

[187] We may ſee in the Deſcriptions of the Poets, how this Paſſion acts on the Soul through all its different Degrees, from a Wavering and Irreſolution of Mind, to the Exceſs of Confuſion and Deſpair.

When a Coward (as moſt Cowards are Vain-glorious) undertakes any Enterprize of Difficulty, the Moment he is engag'd in it, his Mind turns all upon the Danger of the Undertaking. He immediately wiſhes himſelf fairly out of it; His Body begins to tremble, and his Thoughts are all confus'd and irreſolute. Thus it is with Dolon. That Wretch engages under the Covert of the Night, to ſteal to the Camp of the Greeks, and diſcover their Motions. Before he is got half way, The firſt tread of Men that he hears, He hoped in his Mind (ſays a Homer) that 'twas a Meſſenger from Hector to recall him.

The whole Book, where we have this Image, is nothing but one Picture of Fear in different Poſtures; The apprehenſions of diſtant Danger are very naturally expreſs'd in the Grecian Guard;

—Cautious of ſurprize,
Each Voice, each Motion draw their ears and eyes;
b Each Step of paſſing feet increas'd th'affright.

[188] This Deſcription ſeems to have been improv'd beyond the Original from a Virgil's Achemaenides.

Any near Danger has more viſible Effects; The Motions of a Perſon, thus affected, are b broken and diſorder'd; his Colour comes and goes: His Eyes are c diſturb'd; he cannot bear to look d full on the Face of his Enemy: he approaches faintly, and winks even when he ſtrikes.

Fear has another ſtrange Property of Magnifying our Ideas of the Danger. When we are poſſeſs'd with it, we are apt, like Soſia in the Play, to take every Shadow for a Man, and every Man for a Giant. If the Danger be preſent, we think it greater than it is; and to its real Terrors, add a Thouſand that are only imaginary. Thus the Suitors view [189] Ulyſſes, when he is ready to revenge himſelf upon them: their Fears a aggravate every Fierceneſs of his Actions; they look upon him as more than human, as an incens'd deſtructive Deity.

If I miſtake not, there's a certain great Writer who calls Fear, A natural Inebriation of the Mind: it ſhews every thing Double: I know not what the Mythologiſts may teach; But this, in my Opinion, might account for the Multiplicity of Cerberus's Heads, and all the Hands of Briareus.

There is ſomething very Expreſſive in a Thought of Virgil's, if we might take it under this View:

—Se Turni media inter millia vidit,
b Hinc [...]cies, atque, hin [...] acies aſtare Latinas.

This ſpreading of any Danger in our Ideas may widen ſo far as to poſſeſs the whole Mind. Then it is, that it takes away all c Power of Action, even d of Flight; it fixes e the Eye entirely [190] in one horrid Stare: and even a ſhuts up all the Senſes, to any other Object, but that of its Terror and Amazement; It is this Exceſs of Fear which, in any eminent Danger, makes a Perſon b think it impoſſible that he ſhould Eſcape; and it remains ſo Strong and Lively, that after he is got perfectly out of Danger, he can ſcarce perſwade himſelf, but that he is ſtill in the midſt of it—

—With tim'rous Awe,
From the dire Scene th' exempted two withdraw,
Scarce ſure of life, look round, and trembling move
c To the bright altars of Protector Jove.

All theſe are Points which lie in common between Painting and Poetry; I wou'd willingly touch upon one thing more under the ſame View: I mean, thoſe pieces in Poetry which anſwer Copying in Painting; and each of which is really the Picture of a Picture.

You will give me leave by Picture here to underſtand any Artificial Images [191] of things; from Embroidery, Emboſſing, or any other Method of expreſſing Nature by Likeneſſes of Art: And indeed 'tis of this kind, that all the Pictures ſpoken of in Homer are; and, I believe, all in Virgil. At leaſt, what we call Painting now, was not the Painting of the Homerick Ages.

It is to the Honour of the Art (in this general Senſe) that the Poets, when they are copying from Painting, generally exceed themſelves. I believe there is not a more maſterly Piece in all Virgil's Works, than his Copy of Troilus; Thus the ſame Hand in the Images of Aeneas's Shield: As in that of Achilles, Homer has all the Life and Expreſſion that Poetry is capable of.

In both of theſe, the Poets uſe a way of ſpeaking in relation to Picture, which is very Strong and Emphatical; and which may ſhew the high Notions they entertain'd of this Art: They do not ſay, that the Images ſeem to perform ſuch Actions; but talk of 'em as real Life: They ſay directly, that they Move, and Act, [...]nd Speak. The Criticks, who have blam'd ſome Boldneſſes of this kind, ſhew only their own a Coldneſs, and [192] want of Taſte. 'Tis a Figure as juſt as it is daring: it animates the Deſcription; and where the Poet is a more cautious, he is leſs lively on that very Account.

My want of Skill, in this Noble Art, is the ſame diſadvantage in viewing theſe Poetical Pictures, as want of a proper Light would be to the Real; but with all this Diſadvantage, they ſeem extremely Beautiful: And I cannot reſiſt the Temptation of ſetting one or two of 'em before you.

The Deſign on the Shields affords ſuch a variety of Images exquiſitely well wrought, and diſpos'd ſo juſtly, that it would be perfectly Gothick and Barbarous to take them to Pieces. Ignorant as I am; The b young Romulus, and Remus, and c the Genius of the Nile, ſtrike me particularly in the one; and in the other, The d Ambuſcade and Engagement, the e ſtill rural Proſpect; [193] and a the Dance, conſider'd as a Poetitical Piece of Painting.

To what Perfection muſt Embroidery have arriv'd in Homer's Days, if its Works could equal his Deſcriptions of them? How full of Life is b that Figure in Ulyſſes's Robes? And, I ſuppoſe, the Ceſtus of Venus was of the ſame Nature, in which was—

—Ev'ry ar [...], and ev'ry charm,
To win the wiſeſt, and the coldeſt warm:
[...]ond Love, the gentle vow, the gay deſire,
The kind deceit, the ſtill-reviving fire,
Perſwaſive ſpeech, and more perſwaſive ſighs,
c Silence that ſpoke, and eloquence of eyes.

Hercules's Belt, and the Deſcription of it in the Odyſſey, is the Reverſe of this. The Belt it ſelf perhaps was of a different Make, anſwerable to the Shield of Achilles; which, by the way, may [...]ntimate ſomething of an Art, that is [...]ow loſt, which (if you will allow me in [...] mere Conjecture of my own) ſeems to [...]ave been a ſort of Moſaick-work of diffe [...]ent Metals; d Braſs, Stannum, Silver &c, intermixt with Gold; e all varied, [...]nd f ſhaded, ſo as to expreſs the differe [...]t [194] Properties and Actions of the things deſcrib'd: But whatever the materials were, the Workmanſhip certainly excell'd them greatly. Any one, to be convinc'd of this, need only turn his Eyes on the Hercules in Ades, where

Gloomy as night he ſtands, in act to throw
The aerial arrow from the twanging Bow.
Around his breaſt a wond'rous Zone is roll'd,
Where woodland Monſters grin in fretted Gold;
There ſullen Lions ſternly ſeem to roar,
The Bear to growl, to foam the tusky Boar:
There War and Havock and Deſtruction ſtood;
a And vengeful Murther, red with human blood.

Theſe are all Copies: And I have done, if you will give me leave only to ſet Virgil's Troilus before you; which is certainly as fine a Piece as any drawn by that great Hand:

—Amiſſis Troilus armis
Infelix Puer, atque impar congreſſus Achilli,
Fertur [...]quis, curruque haeret reſupinus inani,
Lora tenens tamen: huic cervix (que) comae (que) tr [...]huntu [...]
b Per terram, & verſa pulvis inſcribitur haſta.

How beautiful does this look in the Poem and in the Picture? Yes, th [...] Painter and the Poet have one and th [...] ſame Art; or rather one and the ſame Power of Creating.

[195]
Aut utramque credes eſſe pictam:
Aut utramque credes eſſe veram.

I am extremely oblig'd to you (ſays Philypſus) for ſo various a View of theſe Beauties. Believe me, I have ſcarce known for ſome time, whether I was not got into ſome ſtrange Picture-Gallery, where one meets every Moment with new Subjects of Admiration and Delight. The Misfortune is, You have only led me thorough by the hand; and given me a tranſient View of them: when I could have dwelt Hours upon admiring each by itſelf. 'Tis juſt like ſome Travelling Enjoyment of this kind; when we have been forc'd to run over whole Apartments furniſh'd with Pieces by the greateſt Maſters, too numerous to be obſerv'd [...]articularly; You have delighted me in [...]aſte; and I know not how it is, I find [...]y ſelf pleas'd and diſſatisfied at the [...]ame time.

I am ſure, ſays Antiphaus, I have dealt [...]ith you, like the Connoiſſeurs, which a Traveller often meets with in places, [...]here there are the beſt Collections: Were you left to your ſelf, you would [...]njoy a thouſand Beauties in them; but muſt be plaguing you all the while with [...]inting out the moſt particular; tho', [196] after all I know only where they ſtand, who they were drawn by, and what they repreſent.

But we forget, Philypſus, that we are at preſent half Travellers in earneſt: We are from home; and you ſee the Sun is juſt ſetting—No,—interrupted Philypſus, We have half an Hour good, at leaſt; And if you have any thing farther on this head, I beg you would favour me with it:—As you pleaſe, ſays Antiphaus.—You know, [...]e have hitherto been viewing thoſe Points in which P [...]etry and Painting [...]ee; there is one Method behind, [...]ich P [...]etry has of impreſſing its Images, [...]ecu [...]ar to itſelf.—The Poet [...]an imitate the Colours of the Painter; but the Painter can never imitate the Sounds of Poetry: You may ſee the Hero [...]all in Picture; but in the Poem you ſee him fail, and hear the Clang of his Arms.

Yes, Philypſus, there is a natural fitneſs in Sounds. Every Paſſion has its diſtinct Voice; each Action its proper Turn; and every Motion a particular Sound that may correſpond to it.

Only obſerve the difference in th [...] Sound of theſe Lines; 'tis as ſenſible a [...] that of the real Sounds, which they [197] deſcribe: Compare this Couplet, of Mr. Pope,

a Trembling the ſpectres glide, and plaintive vent
Thin hollow Screams along the deep deſcent.

With this of the ſame hand,

—The ſtring let fly,
b Twang'd ſhort and ſharp, like the ſhrill Swallow's cry.

Thus we might c compare in reading Virgil ſeveral Deſcriptions of Rivers: There we have the full courſe of the Po, and the windings of the Tiber, the d largeneſs of Benacus, the e ſlowneſs of the Mincio, the f murmuring of a Brook, and the broken g courſe of a River incumber'd with Men and Arms; in a word, every variety of ſtreams that can be conceiv'd, all imag'd in the various Numbers and Cadence of his Verſe.

In Poetry, the Bow twangs; the Arrow h whizzes thro' the Air; and i [198] the Quiver rattles on the Shoulder of the Warrior; Even the particular difference of the ſame ſort of Actions, is to be diſtinguiſh'd in the ſound of the Verſe; and the Javelin, that a flies impetuous from Ulyſſes, languiſhes in the hand of the Suitors. This very Circumſtance, as I take it, is beautifully deſcrib'd by the Tranſlator of Vida, among ſeveral other b excellent Images of the ſame Kind.

We do not only meet with a great Variety of theſe ſignificant Numbers in the Odyſſey; but are inſtructed too in the Methods of rendering our Numbers proper and ſignificant. Here we are taught how the Poet roughens his Verſe to imitate the Subject he is to expreſs. Thus the Note tells us that his Deſcription of the Sea abounds c ‘with the harſheſt Letter our Language affords. It is clog'd with Monoſyllables, that the Concourſe of the rough Syllable [...], might be more quick and cloſe in the pronunciation, and the moſt open and [...]ounding Vowel occur in every word.’

On the contrary, a gentle flowing Stream runs as eaſy and ſmoothly in the [199] Deſcription: We then hear a ‘nothing of thoſe rough Conſonants; Inſtead of them we meet with ſeveral Liquids, and thoſe Liquids are ſoften'd with a multitude of Vowels.’

What a violent and ſtrong Motion does Homer give to Siſiphus's Stone in its fall?

b [...].

Whence this Rapidity and Violence in the Numbers? c If we obſerve it we find that ‘There is not one Monoſyllable in the Line, and but two Diſſyllables; Ten of the Syllables are ſhort, and not one Spondee in it, except one that cou'd not be avoided in the cloſe’(which perhaps too may be of Service towards imaging the ſtopping of its Courſe at laſt) ‘There is no Hiatus or Gap between word and word, no Vowels left open to retard the Celerity of it:’ and yet, tho' the Motion be carried on with ſuch a vehemence, one ſeems to ſee the bounding of the Stone, as well as the Impetuoſity of its Deſcent.

I ſhould think (tho' the Notes do not mention any thing of it) that the Tranſlator [200] expreſſes this double Image in the Engliſh; when he makes the Stone

a—Reſulting with a bound,
Thunder impetuous down, and ſmoak along the ground.

At leaſt, In both we m [...]y ſay of the Verſification, as of the Stone it deſcribes;

Ipſa ſuis viribus ruit.

The oppoſites to theſe expreſs a Slowneſs and Difficulty of Motion; When a Hero ſtrains

—Some rock's huge weight to throw,
b The line too labours, and the words move ſlow [...]

Thus is Siſyphus deſcrib'd in the former Picture;

With many a weary ſtep, and many a groan,
c Up the high hill he heaves a huge round ſtone.

Never was a Tranſlator more juſt to his Original; The Obſervation which has been made on the Greek, theſe Lines anſwer, will hit equally with the d Engliſh ‘The Verſes are clog'd with long Syllables, and with Vowels open upon one another; the very Words are [201] heavy, and as it were make re [...]iſtance in the pronunciation.’

In the ſame manner Virgil and Homer deſcribe the Labour of the Giants, when they endeavour to ſcale Heaven. a Virgil, cheifly by the openneſs of his Vowels: Homer, by the reſiſtance of his Syllables, and the pauſes of his Lines; and his Tranſlator, by ſlow Syllables, burthen'd with ſeveral Eliſions, cloſe upon one another.

The Numbers are thus minutely adapted to the Motions deſcrib'd by theſe great Maſters; And we need not wonder if they obſerve like Rules in Points of greater concern; Such are all Occaſions where they ſpeak the Language of the Paſſions: or endeavour to touch the Soul of the Reader either with Pleaſure or Pain.

[202] When Homer deſcribes any terrible Object, b ‘He rejects the more flowing and harmonious Vowels, and makes Choice of ſuch Mutes, and Conſonants as load the Syllables:’ Then long weighty Sounds, and Words of many Syllables are proper; and often a deſign'd harſhneſs, unuſual pauſes, and a broken ſtructure in the verſe.

But the Lyre muſt be new tuned, when the Subject is agreeable or delightful. The Poet then ſoftens every Line b ‘with Vowels, and the moſt flowing Semi-vowels: he rejects harſh Sounds, and the Coll [...]ſion of rough Words:’ The Tone of the Verſe muſt be neither ſerious, nor majeſtick; but rather qualified by as great a Frequency of ſhort Syllables, as can well be admitted, without rendring the Lines Weak and Effeminate: The Cadence is ſoft and gene his Words deſcend like a kind re [...]r ſhing Shower; or like the Snow that melts in falling.

The joyous Ver [...]ification admits of more ſprightly Notes, and a greater Mixture c of Energy and Vigour: ſometimes ſhe riſes even to breakes, and pauſes: 403 [203] but they muſt be always, like thoſe in Muſick, pauſes of Delight: and the Verſe muſe ſpring on again, when it recovers itſelf, without loſing any thing of its Exultation and Vivacity.—Unleſs ſome a afflicting Theme breaks in, and turns our Thoughts away, to diſmal Scenes, where ſighs and melancholly Reign: The Muſe, compaſſionate, ſpeaks all in Tears, and moves with the ſame bſlow Melancholly Air.

It is ſcarce to be imagin'd, Philypſus, how great the Powers of Sounds are, when adapted to the Subject and the Paſſion. For my part, I ſhould think that our very Bodies are diſpos'd to receive them; that this Frame of ours is like an Inſtrument ready tun'd; and when the proper Key is touch'd, our Nerves tremble and anſwer it with a [204] Kind of Muſical Sympathy. How far this may reach in others, I know not; but as for my particular Make, 'tis ſtrangely ſuſceptible of ſuch Impreſſions. After a Period ſet to Melancholy, I have been ſurpriz'd to find my Eyes full of Tears: There are ſome exquiſite Lines which I can never read without a certain Shivering thorough my Blood, that I cannot expreſs to you: I have felt my Spirits Burn within me, upon hearing a Point of War, well wrote; and have been almoſt ready to ſtart from my Seat at the Poetical Sound of a Trumpet.

This Energy of Sounds, and the great and various Emotions they are capable of raiſing in our Breaſts, may ſerve partly to excuſe thoſe Criticks, who are very particular in laying down Rules, as to this part of Verſification; The Ancients, as well as Moderns, have left us whole Treatiſes upon it: and thoſe who have wrote in a more general way, are very diffuſive, when they come to this Part of their Subject. They ſpeak to every the leaſt Circumſtance; and Readers, who have never thought over this Point, would be ſurpriz'd to find the great Cicero very induſtriouſly [...]ettling Quantities, and meaſuring Words fit for ſuch and ſuch a Period. They would [205] wonder, whence he is ſo peremptory for [...]ambicks on this Occaſion; and on another, ſo great a Partizan for Tribrachs, and Dactils.

Why, ſeriouſly, ſays Philypſus, I have often thought him quite tedious on theſe particulars: The Orator, even the Critick, ſeem'd to be loſt ſometimes, and nothing but a mere Pedant appear in their room. I admire the force of Numbers (continu'd he) as much as any one; but when I have been reading the Rules at large in the Criticks, I could not help thinking them too minute and trifling. If a Man muſt be taken up thus in weighing Syllables and ranging of Vowels, what Elegance of Language can we expect, or what Life in his Compoſitions?

What you ſay (anſwer'd Antiphaus) is what, I believe, moſt Men think on this Occaſion: and were a Poet always to be ſtudying his Rules, ſuch an Objection would be very powerful: But it is with this, which is only the Mechaniſm of Verſe, as it is in the Mechaniſm of Writing. We muſt learn to draw the Figure of the Letters, and ſtudy how to form the particular Turn of each [...] before a Man can write down a wh [...]le Sentence; By uſe this knowledge gr [...]ws [206] familiar; We then write by a a ſort of Inſtinct; and our Pen runs over each Letter, without our conſidering, diſtinctly at each which way we ſhall direct it. 'Tis much the ſame in theſe Arts of Verſification. When we have learn't the force of Letters, and the Powers of Sound; when we know what Syllables are proper to expreſs ſuch a Motion, and what run of Verſe hits ſuch particular Images, Uſe makes the Mind ready in applying what is proper; and the Thought is as nimble in ſuggeſting Words of a ſuitable Sound, as the Hand is in Motions proper to ſet down thoſe words on our Paper.

But it will be hal [...] a life, perhaps, before the Poet can come to this Readine [...]s—I do not ſay it is to be acquir'd immediately, anſwer'd Antiphaus, but acquir'd in ſome Meaſure it muſt be, by any one who deſires to be a true Poet: In the mean time, a Man may indulge his Vigour, he may compoſe his Lines with full Spirit, and ſet them to Muſick afterwards; Le [...] a Man write with Flame, if he will but correct at Leiſure.

[207] Beſides: this is not ſo difficult to be attain'd, as one wou'd imagine. The fitneſs of Sounds to things is natural: Invention itſelf will go ſome way in the Work; and where there is naturally (What we call) a Good Ear, Nature will do the Buſineſs almoſt without the help of Art. I do not ſpeak this in a declamatory way, Good Philypſ [...]s; I imagine Fact and Experience will go a great way in proving what I ſay. A Man, who thinks vehemently, will ſpeak ſwiftly; and when we are on a grave Point, our Words will of themſelves be in a great Meaſure ſlow and weighty. This is yet plainer from the Invention of Languages; How many ſingle Words are there in every Tongue, that have been originally caſt in a proper Mould, and on the firſt Heat carried off the Images of things impreſs'd upon them? I was ſaying too, that the poſture of the Mind at the time of Compoſing, will aſſiſt the turn of the Compoſition; And is this more abſurd in particular Caſes, than that the Temper of a People in general ſhould affect their Language in the ſame manner? Yet has it been often obſerv'd that the Diſpoſitions of a People are perceivable in that Turn of Words they chiefly delight in. Thus the French [208] Tongue is brisk and voluble: The Germans talk in vaſt Syllables and perpetual Conſonants: Engliſh is neither too ſoft, nor too rough: tho' our Northerly Situation inclines us rather to the latter: And, as the Spaniard is the moſt haughty of all Nations, their Language is the moſt Grand; it prides itſelf in firm Syllables, in a frequency of the fulleſt Vowel, and the moſt ſonorous Terminations of its Words.

Nature certainly forms us within for fit Sounds: We ſee every Day that even Brutes can expreſs their Paſſions by the Tone of their Voice; and is not an Intelligent Being as well qualified by Nature to adapt Sounds to his Senti [...]ent [...]?

Indeed they are thus adapted already in a Multitude of Inſtances; Our Language abounds with ſuch words; and [...]n many Caſes we need only utter our Sentiments in the moſt common Expreſſions, to ſpeak with this Significance. What was it that led the firſt Inventors into this frequency of ſuch words? Was in Art, or the Natural Reſemblance, and their Obviouſneſs upon that Account? 'Tis in this Light we muſt underſtand our Maſter Critick, where he [209] calls Nature a ‘The great Original and Miſtreſs of propriety in the preſent Point: It is ſhe that leads us to imitate things by Sound; and to expreſs what we conceive, by Words that are turn'd according to thoſe ſtrong Likeneſſes, which we form in our Minds.’

'Tis plain the Uſe of Words is arbitrary: we might if we had a fancy for it, call any thing by any Name: Yet there is ſomething from within, that has influenc'd all Nations ſo [...]ar, as to lead them to deſcriptive Sounds, in their giving Names to things; and that more frequently than one would readily imagine. What Nature has done in ſingle Words the Poet carries on in Compoſition; Almoſt all the particular Names of Sounds themſelves, for inſtance, are naturally ſignificant in moſt Languages; as with us, the Roaring of Waves, the Whiſtling of Winds &c. Of ſuch Words, aſſiſted by a proper ſtructure of Quantities, and a ſignificant Cadence of Verſe, the Poet makes an Hurricane by Land, or a Storm at Sea. Nature firſt preſided in eſtabliſhing thoſe proper ſounds, and ſtill directs in the Aſſemblage of them.

[210] Hence it is that this Point takes ſuch a Compaſs in the Doctrine of the Criticks. Some of them, no doubt, carry the Matter too far, when they would require this Natural Significance of Sounds, to be kept up in every thing we write. Such was Voſſius. It would make you ſmile to hear ſome of his Fancies: He talks as if every Language, like that of hi [...] Favourites the Chineſe, ſhould be nothing but Muſick: He would have our very Actions all Tuned: A Soldier can't run the Gauntlet, but he muſt be a ſlaſh'd in Time; and his very b Barber muſt Shave him in a juſt proportion of Dactils and Spondees.

Hermogenes is perhaps more trifling, tho' in a graver manner: He queſtions whether this ſort of Sounds be not preferable to t [...]e Sentiments in a Poem. This is to oppoſe two Things, that are in the ſtricteſt Amity and Concord. Theſe [211] Sounds do not, like the Modern, pretend to rival the Senſe; their whole Buſineſs is to make the Sentiments more ſtrongly perceiv'd, and more effective on the Mind.

I have heard it frequently objected to thoſe Gentlemen, the Criticks, that they find out ſeveral Beauties of this Kind in the Works of Homer, which he, never ſo much as dream't of in compoſing 'em. In many Caſes this may be true; and in many the Lines may be juſtly commended, and really ſignificant, tho' that particular Beauty might not be deſign'd in compoſing them: But thoſe, who can perſwade themſelves, that Homer never deſign'd any ſuch thing in his Writings, I ſhould think, might ſoon bring themſelves to believe (what has been ſo frequently produc'd as an inſtance of Abſurdity) that his Poems might be made by chance.

The Notes of Muſick in a good Compoſition are fitted to the Subject: And a good Copy of Verſes wrote for Muſick will be fitted for Notes. I cannot once doubt, that the firſt Stanza in Mr. Pope's Ode for St. Caecilia's Day has a deſign'd Harmony all thorough it. 'Tis juſt the ſame Caſe with Homer's Poems: [212] They were all made for Muſick; and have been all ſang to the Lyre.

As for my part, ſays Philypſus, I find Muſick enough in them, even now, without the Lyriſt. Neither have I any quarrel with the Criticks for giving mepleaſure, and pointing out Beauties of this kind, whether deſign'd by Homer or not. But I wonder at one thing: while they ſpeak of the Defect in this point perpetually, I never yet heard them ſpeak of any Exceſs in it: 'Tis certain, that the greater Number of Poets err in neglecting the ſignificant Turn of their Verſes: but is there no erring too by an Affectation of it?

I thank you, (anſwer'd Antiphaus) for putting me in mind of this particular. Undoubtedly there may be faults on both ſides: Even in the Poem before us I imagine, this is ſometimes carried too far, and ſometimes us'd improperly: The Infirmneſs of a Couplet, mention'd on another Occaſion, agrees with the thing deſcrib'd, and may perhaps be blameable on that very Account.

a His looſe head tottering as with wine oppreſt [...]
Obliquely drops, and nodding knocks his breaſt [...]

[213] Terrible Images have ſomething engaging; and the Mind takes a ſecret Pleaſure even in Melancholly: Diſagreeable a objects alone are the worſe for being well deſcrib'd: A Poet is to reject, as well as to chuſe; 'Tis want of Art to ſet every thing in a ſtrong Light [...] and there are many Objects, which if they muſt have a place at all, require at leaſt to be flung into Shades.

If this be true, there are ſome few Images of this ſort, which I think are drawn too ſtrongly, or too laviſhly:

b Down dropt he groaning—
c He ſaid: chill horrors ſhook my ſhiv'ring Soul.
d They curſe their cumbrous pride's unweildy weight.
e There wallowing warm &c.

To me the Screaming of the Ghoſts, as deſcrib'd at the end of the Eleventh Odyſſey, is rather diſagreeable than dreadful:

Swarms of Spectres roſe from deepeſt Hell [...]
With bloodleſs viſag [...] and with hideous Yell,
They ſcream, they ſhriek; ſad groans and diſmal ſounds
f Stun my ſcar'd Ears, and pierce hells utmoſt bounds

[214] I leave this to your judgment; for it is very difficult, in theſe Caſes, to diſcern the True from the Faulty: A harſhneſs of Sounds is often proper and ſignificant; but when and how far, is a knot that I will not pretend to untye.

I beg leave to repeat a Paſſage from the Iliad, in which ſome of the Lines may be ſtrain'd too much, under this notion of rendering them ſignificant:

Firſt march the heavy Mules, ſecurely ſlow,
O'er hills, o'er dales, o'er crag [...], o'er rocks they go:
Jumping, high o'er the ſhrubs, of the rough ground,
Rattle the clatt'ring cars, and the ſhockt axles bound.
But when arriv'd at Ida's ſpreading woods
(Fair Ida, water'd with deſcending floods)
Loud ſounds the Axe, redoubling ſtrokes on ſtrokes;
On all ſides r [...]und the Foreſt hu [...]ls her Oakes
Headlong [...] Deep-echoing groan the thickets brown;
a Then ruſtling, crackling, cruſhing, thunder down.

This laſt Verſe in particular may be an Inſtance of employing deſcriptive Sounds too thick upon one another; but this, if it be a fault, is ſuch an one as in the preſent ſtate of Poetry, requires an unuſual Eminence in the Writer, to be capable of committing it.

'Tis much more frequent among our Poets to neglect the Sentiments in their Verſification; to give up the ſignificant [215] Structure of Words, for mere harmony and ſoftneſs of Verſe; and even to make u [...]e of Numbers contrary to the Image or Paſſion they are deſcribing; tho' to deſcribe Actions of Rapidity, for inſtance, in ſlow ſolemn Meaſures, is as abſurd, as for an Actor to ſcold, or rant, with the tone and ſteadineſs of a Philoſopher.

We have not time, Philypſus, otherwiſe I ſhould have ventur'd on ſome farther Faults of our Verſification: but I muſt not now run out into Complaints on the frequent Conſonants and frequent Eliſions, multiplied ſo much in our Verſes, tho' both ought to be particularly guarded againſt, in a Language naturally overladen with them:—On the neglect of Meaſure, and taking all Syllables whether long or ſhort to be of Equal Time: and the Lameneſs and Inequality from hence in Verſes of the ſame kind:—The diſcord of the Emphaſis or Accent, and of the Pauſes:—the repeated Cadence, and continued Likeneſs of Sound. I need only mention ſome other Identities of Sound, as all middle and double Rhimes, and all that are alike for two Couplets together. And methinks, Philypſus, as all theſe likeneſſes of Sound would be given up at the firſt word, unleſs there be ſome particular Reaſon [216] for retaining that faſhionable jingle at the cloſe of our Verſes, we may even reckon that as bad as the reſt. I ſhould have ſaid ſomething on this: but 'tis no great matter; ſince it ſtands condemn'd over and over by the greateſt Criticks among the Modern. For my part, I'le talk no more of it, that we may go in Humour to our Claret.—I begin to wiſh my ſelf in your Parlour. The Evening ſhuts in apace. Come, good Philypſus, let us be going, I beſeech You.

FINIS.
Notes
a
B. 14. 1.
a
Tranſlat. Book 4, V. 411. Orig. δ' 306.
b
B. 13, 112. [...] 93.
a
B. 12, 35. μ' 24.— [...]
b
B. 6, 306. ζ' 257.
c
B. 4, 158. δ' 121.
d
B. 1, 188. α' 142.
e
B. 3, 601. γ' 472.
a
B. 3, 493. γ' 384.
b
B. 4, 107. δ 85.
c
B. 1, 408. δ' 314.
d
B. 4, 1096. α' 840.
d
B. 4, 1096. α' 840.
a
B. 1, 462. α' 363.
a
B. 14, 416. ξ', 376.
b
B. 4, 154. δ', 116.—. [...].
a
B. 8, 474. θ', 437. [...].
b
B. 5. 585. ε', 456.
c
B 6, 162. ζ', 220.— [...]
a
[...], 430.
b
B. 13, 497.
a
B. 8, 437. θ' 403.
b
B. 4, 19. δ' 14.
a
B. 2, 18 [...]. β' 156.
b
B. 1, 425. [...] 3 [...]
26
Odi reum cui eſſe diſerto vace [...]. Quin [...] Lib. 11. c. 1.
a
Quicquid meris adjicietur affectibus, omnes eorum diluet vires, & miſerationem ſecu [...] tate laxabit. Quintil. Inſtit. L. 11. c, 1.
a
B 4, 248. δ', 182.
b
B 4, 726. δ', 539
c
B. 4, 957. δ' 721.
d
See p. 14.
e
B. 11, 151.
f
Obſ. 27 on B. 11, Ver. 38 [...]
g
B. 4, 480.
a
B. 1, 555. α', 441.— [...],—
a
B 4, 962. δ', 727. [...]
b
B. 9, 210 ι', 180. [...].
c
B 2, 437. β', 388. [...].
d
B. 9, 224. ι', 192.— [...]
e
B. 9, 618. ι', 528. [...]
a
B. 5, 365 [...] ε', 285.
b
B. 5, 480. ε, 380.
c
Preface to the Hind and Panther Tranſvers'd [...]
a
F [...]equens (M [...]taphorae uſus) & obſcurat [...] & [...]aedio complet [...] continuus vero in allegoriam & aenigma exit. Quintil. Inſtit L. 8. c 6.
a
B. 8, 140. θ', 130. [...]
b
B. 11, 486. λ', 390.— [...].
a
B. 4, 388. δ', 286.
b
Verecunda d [...]bet eſſe Tranſl [...]io, ut deducta eſſe in alienum locum, non irruiſſe; atque ut precario, non vi veniſſe videa [...]ur.—Eſt hoc magnum ornamentum orationis, in quo obſcuritas fu [...]d [...] ſt. Cicero de Oratore. Lib. 3.
b
Verecunda d [...]bet eſſe Tranſl [...]io, ut deducta eſſe in alienum locum, non irruiſſe; atque ut precario, non vi veniſſe videa [...]ur.—Eſt hoc magnum ornamentum orationis, in quo obſcuritas fu [...]d [...] ſt. Cicero de Oratore. Lib. 3.
c
B. 2, 439.
a
B 13, 113.
b
B [...] 5, 352.
c
B. 1, [...]
d
Tate's Mauſolaeum.
e
B. 2, [...]
56
(f) Iliad 16, 524.
a
B. 6, 298.
b
B. 9, 353.
a
B [...] 14, 533.
b
B. 5, 515.
c
B. 4, 748.
d
B. 14, 510, Notes.
e
B. 13, 400.
f
B. 5, 395.
g
B. 5, 159.
h
B. 5, 391.
i
B. 3, 213.
k
Modus nullus eſt florentior; nec qui plus luminis afferat Orationi. Cicero de Oratore. Lib. 3.
a
B. 4, 493. to Verſe, 776.
a
B. 6.
b
B. 11.
c
Books 5, and 10.
a
B. 4, 615. to 622.
a
B. 11, 528. λ', 423.
a
Etiam quos vires ſanguiſque deſereret, u [...] intra vallum hoſtium c [...]derent, nitebantur. Liv. vol. 3. p. 145. per H [...]arne.
b
Catilina vero longe a ſuis inter hoſtium cadavera repertus eſt, paullulum etiam ſpirans, ferociamque animi quam habuerat vivus, in vul [...]u retinens. Sall. Bell. Cat. juxta finem.
a
G. 4, 526. Aen. 9, 444.
b
Minacciava morendo, e non languia. Taſ.
c
Il pover' huomo, che non ſen' era accorto Andava combattendo, ed era morto. Ariost.
d
Dimidiato corpore pugnabant ſibi ſuperſtites, ac peremptae partis ultores. Strad. Dec. 2. Lib 2.
a
B. 11, 540. λ', 433.
a
B. 11, 626. λ', 511.
a
Note on Ver. 626, B. 11 [...]
b
B. 11, 650. λ', 531.
a
Virgils Georgicks. 3, 83 [...]
b
Stanza. 3.
a
B. 10, 395. χ', 330.
a
No [...]e on B. 10, Ver. 295.
b
from Longinus [...]e Subl. c, 17.
a
De Subl. c, 17.
a
B. 13.
92
(b) B. 14.
a
B. 14.
b
Verſe, 185. θ' 170.
a
B [...] 4, 776. δ', 564 to 569.
a
B [...] 4, 776. δ', 564 to 569.
a
B. 3, 96. γ' 81.
b
B. 14, 4.
a
B. 5, 520, 521. ε', 402.
b
B. 5, 613, to 622. ε', 480.
c
B. 6, 310, to 320. ζ', 262, 269.
d
B. 6, 350. ζ', 291.
e
B. 6, 355. ζ', 293.
a
B. 5, 92. ε', 71.
b
[...]. Longin. [...].
a
[...]. Dionyſius Hal. [...].
b
B [...] 10, 173. χ', 150.
c
B. 13, 115, ν', 95.
a
B. 5, 356, ε', 279.
b
B. 2, 459. β', 419.
a
B. 12, 183. μ', 147.
b
B. 12. 216.
c
B. 12. [...]65.
d
B. 13, 94, ν', 78.
e
B. 3, 618. γ', 435.
a
B. 3 [...] 628. γ', 495.
a
B. 1, 77. α', 59.
b
B. 5, 204. ε', 154.
a
B. 13, 38. ν', 30.
b
See Mr. Pope's Note on the Place.
a
B. 8, 580. θ, 530.
a
Dryd. Tranſl. Aen. 3, 788.
b
Aen. 3, 592 [...]
—Subito è ſylvis macie confecta ſupremà,
Ignoti nova forma vi [...]i, miſerandaque cultu
Pr [...]ced [...]t, ſupplexque manus ad litora tendit—
—U [...]i D [...]rdanio [...] habitus & Troia vidit
Arma p [...]ocul; paullum aſpectu conterritus haeſi [...],
Continuitque gradum: mox ſeſe ad litora praec [...]p [...]
Cum fletu precibuſque tulit.
c
Ιλ', χ', 358.
d
Note on I [...]. 14, 21.
a
Iliad 14, 30.
a
Il. [...], 103.
b
Riſus abeſt; niſi quem viſi movere dolores B. 2, 778.
c
Pope's Iliad, B. 15, 113.
d
Albeoû [...]'ay commencè de reſpirer le jour,
Albe, mon cher pais, & mon premier amour,
Lors qu' entre-nous & toy je voi la guerre ouverte,
Je crains noſtre victoire au [...]ant que noſtre perte.
[Corneille.
a
B. 5, 246. ε', 191.
a
B. 5, 265. ε', 208.
133
Lo ſtral volo; ma con lo ſtrale un voto bito uſci, che vada il colpo a voto. Taſſo.
a
Aen 6 [...] 821.
a
B. 3, 119. γ', 96, 95.
b
B. 10, 387, to 392.
a
B. 10, 382. χ', 321.
b
B. 14, 110. ξ', 88.
c
B. 11, 490. λ', 392.
a
B. 11, 512. λ', 412.
b
B. 13, 177. ν', 154.
c
Naviget. Aen. 4, 237.
d
[...]. [...] 146.
e
The great Fiat.
f
[...]. Dem. Phal. [...].
a
V. 125, γ', 103.
b
Book 11.
a
[...], 240 [...]
b
B. 10, 281.
c
—Qu [...]mvis collo timuiſſet aratrum, E [...] ſ [...]pe in laevi quaeſiſſet cornua fronte. E [...]l. 6, 51.
d
—Conata queri, mugitus edidit ore, Pertimui [...]que ſonos, propriaque ex [...]rrita voce eſt. M [...]t. [...], 638.
e
B. 5, 96. ε', 73.
a
B. 2, 320. β', 282.
b
B. 2, 356. β', 316.
c
B. 2, 415. β', 370.
d
B. 8, 90. θ', 92.
e
B. 10, 410. χ', 343. [...].
f
Saevus amor docuit natorum ſanguine matrem
Commaculare manus; Crudelis tu quoque, mater:
Crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille?
Improbus ille puer; crudelis tu quoque, mater.
[...]. 8. v. 50.
a
B. 12. 220. μ', 184.
a
B. 12. 220. μ', 184.
161
(b) See Pope's Note on the Place.
a
Paradiſe loſt. B. 5, 152.
a
B. 10, 385.
b
B. 11, 130. Aen. 6, 87 &c.
c
V. 203.
d
B. 14, 572.
e
B. 10, 93. Aen. 3, 206.
f
B. 12, 201.
g
B. 12, 474. Aen. 3, 193.
a
From Virgil B. 14, 76. B. 5, 96. See alſo B 2, 26. Aen. 3, 627. B. 2, 55. B. 3, 126. B 4 [...] 509. B. 6, 197, B. 10, 569. B. 11, 433, 434 &c [...]
b
Scripture. B. 1, 483. B. 3, 424 451. B. 4. 145 [...] 438. B. 5, 288. B 6, 235. B. 10, 591. B. 11 [...] 239. B. 14, 109. And frequently in other pl [...]ces [...]
c
Iliad. B. 11, 415. [...], 41. &c. Ovid B. 4, 808. B. 10, 282. B. 13, 193. B. 14, 224 [...] S [...]neca [...] B 5, 573. Horace. B. 10, [...]56, 557. B. 14, 519.
d
Dryden. B. [...], 80. B. 11, 531 [...] &c. Addiſon. B. 4, 371. B. 11 [...] 684.
a
Shakeſpear. B. 9 [...] 420. B. 10, 410. &c.
b
See Book 11. V. 531. And 537. to 54 [...].
176
[...] B. [...], 725 And frequently in other places.
a
B. 10, 259. χ', 225.
b
B [...] 3, 523. γ', 40 [...]
c
B. 11, 258. λ', 212.
d
B. 10, 588 χ', 496.
e
B. 2, 393. β', 345.
f
B. 14, 392. ξ', 359.
g
B. 3, 25. γ', 20.
h
Iliad 9. 412. ι' 313.
a
[...].
a
[...], 405.
b
B [...] 14. Obſervation XVIII.
a
B. 14, 507 ξ', 455.
b
B. 1, 482. α', 378.
c
B 2, 347. β', 310.
d
B. 9, 202. ι', 174.
e
B. 8, 362. θ', 322.
f
B. 8, 256. θ', 225. [...] [...]
194
B. 11, 727. λ', 588
195
B. 1, 190. α', 144. [...].—
a
B 4, 256. [...], 188.
b
B 14, Note 1.
c
B. 10, 277. 338. 459 &c.
d
B. 6, 370. ζ', 306.
e
B. 3, 221. γ', 180.
f
B. 3, 252.
g
B. 3 [...] 17. γ', 12.
h
B. 5, 296.
i
Ibid. 192.
a
[...]. Il. [...], 202.
b
Ipſe ſuum cor edens. T [...]ſc. Quaeſt. lib. 3.
a
[...] Il. δ', 35.
b
Il. B. 4, 56.
b
Il. B. 4, 56.
a
B. 6, 284. ζ', 236.
b
B. 8, 18. [...], 17.
c
B. 2, 378. β, 336.
d
B. 13, 442. ν', 386.
e
B. 4, 708.
a
B. 4, 104 δ', 85. [...].
a
Preface to V [...]rgil's Paſtorals, p. 95.
a
Dedication to his Aeneid. p. 417.
a
La Tragedie roulât ſur deux paſſions: [...]cavoir la terreur que doivent donner les ſuites [...]neſtes du vice; & la compaſſion, qu' inſpire la [...]ertu perſecutèe & patiente Arch [...]ev. de Cam [...]ay. Sur l'Eloquence. Dial. 1.
a
Mr. Watts's Horae Lyr. Pref. p. 31.
b
B [...] ſhop Burnet's Hiſtory of his own Times. p. 163 [...] (b) See the Spect [...]tor. V. 1. Numb. 60.
a
Od. B. 14; Obſerv. 2.
a
Concluſion of the Earl of Roſcommon's Eſſay [...] Tranſlated Ve [...]ſe.
a
B. 6, 138.
a
B. 4, 406.
b
B. 3, 311.
c
B. 12, 78.
d
B. 10, 172.
e
B. 1, 86.
a
B. 4, 388. δ', 287.
a
B. 8, 580. θ', 524.— [...]
b
B 2, 77. β', 70. [...].—
c
B. 2, 362. β', 321.— [...],—
d
B. 2, 259. β', 228.
a
Book 9. Compare Verſe 143, with 147.
b
Book 5. Compare Verſe 98, with 124.
c
B. 1, 299, and 309.
d
B. 5. 65.
a
B. 10, 451.
b
B. 5, 224.
c
B. 6, 40. See, from their thrones thy kindred Monarchs ſigh.
d
Nor the fleet arrow from the twanging bow, Sent with full force cou'd reach the depth below. B. 12, 102.
a
B. 1, 300.
b
B 2, 201.
c
A painted Veſt Prince Voltigern had on
Which from a Naked Pict his Granſire won.
d
What horrid ſilence does invade my Ear?
a
Longinus [...] &c.
a
Mollia tempora fandi.
a
B. 12, 189.
a
[...] p. 29. Ed. R. Steph.
b
B. 11, 735. λ', 593.
c
B. 12, 379.
d
B. 5, 380.
a
B [...] 12, 280.
b
B. 12, 202.
c
B. 11, 286 [...]
a
Art de bien Parler [...] Part 1. Chap. 4. Sect. 5.
a
Thus: Mellif [...]uous, attemper'd; ever-ſhady, ill-perſwading, ſerpent-mazes, and ſeveral others in this Tranſlation.
b
Thus perhaps: Sea-girt, end-long, loved [...]ttied, woman-ſtate, &c. in the ſame.
a
Plurimae ſint locutiones apud Poetas uſita [...]ſſimae, & in primis elegantes, quae ſcriptis Pro [...]cis uſurpatae etiam Grammaticae leges violant. [...] Trapp's Prael. Poet. Page 49, &c. to Page 53.
a
Cum ſint verba Propria, ſicta, tranſlata; Prop [...]iis dignitatem dat Antiquitas: eo ornamento Vi [...] g [...]l [...]u [...] u [...]ice [...]ſt uſus. Quintil. Inſtit. Lib 8. Cap. 3. [...] Lib 9 C [...]p 3.
a
WINTER: by Mr. Thompſon.
a
Eo (Epitheto) poetae & frequentius & liberius u [...]untur: Namque illis ſatis eſt conveni [...] verbo, cui apponitur; & ita Dentes albi, & Humi [...] Vina in his non reprehenduntur. Quintil. Inſti [...] Lib. 8. Cap. 6.
b
Pref. to Il. p. 21.
a
Huge, horrid, vaſt! Od. 5, 227 [...]175.
b
[...]. Dem. Phal. [...].
c
See Mr. Pope's Note on Il. 1, 683.
a
See [...] 5 [...] 85.
a
Od. 9, 67—56.
b
N [...] which is beautifully expreſs'd by Horace in three words (nimi [...]m lubricus aſpici) is enlarged by Homer himſelf, on a fit occaſion, into three lines: Compare Ιλ. λ, 16, with ν', 340.
c
Od. 18, 250—209. [...].
a
Od. 9, 330—276.
b
Od. 23, 217. compared with verſe 227.
c
Od. 1, 389—299.
d
Od. 19, 110—91.
e
Od. 10, 291.
a
Od 4, 320—230.
b
Addiſon's Miſc. Vol. 1. p. 245. 120.
c
Windſor-Foreſt, p. 59. folio.
a
As when the Cyclops, in the height of his good nature, promiſ [...]s Ulyſſes, that he ſhall be the laſt he will devour. Od. 9.
b
Od. 1, 449—353. 15, 435—399. otherwiſe 12, 52. 18, 284 &c.
c
Verſe 380—342.
d
M [...]ſc. Vol. 1. p. 245. 120.
a
Thus in the Twilight, when we have really a ſort of viſible Darkneſs, Homer uſes an Epithet of the ſame contrariety: A [...], i.e. Darkneſs ting'd every way with Light. [...], 433.
a
Dexter, circumfuſile, variegated Od. 15, 145.
b
Seneſchal, viands, bev'rage, irefull 3, 179.
c
Jupiter is ſtil'd, God (ſimply; Od. 3. 190—158, [...]) Neptune, A God above the Gods. Od. 13, 167.
d
To thee a Son is giv'n—Od. 18, 207. And—Food in the deſart land, behold, is giv'n. Od. 10, 204—175.
a
Flown (with Inſolence) Od. 1, 292. [...]ilial [...]or a Daughter) 6, 67.
b
Partial Od. 8 [...] [...]85. [...] 17, 200. Objected 7, 54. Impl [...]cite 9 [...] 514.
a
Od. 7, 117—90.
b
Thus there is ſomething which does not [...]ound entirely right in theſe lines:

Full ſhines the Father in the Filial Frame, Od. 4, 199. He ceas'd: the Filial Virtue made reply. 22, 167. Mean time Arcte for the hour of reſt Ordains the fleecy couch—7, 428. The Peers reproach the ſure Divine of fate. 20, 432.

Within the Stricture of the palace wall 22, 186. Impoſthumate with pride.—20, 358. With Venial freedom let me now demand Thy name.—1, 219. There cling implicite, and confide in Jove. 9, 514.

The Seneſhal rebuk'd in haſte withdrew, 4, 47. A Cenotaph I raiſe of deathleſs fame. 4, 794.

a
[...]. Ariſtot. Rhetor. Lib. 3. [...]p. 2.
38
(b) Od. 19, 155—131.
a
Cap. 24. Ed. Oxon. 1718.
b
Spectator, N. 59 [...]
a
Od. 22, 135—118.
a
[...]. Ariſt. Rhet. l. 3. c. 2.
a
Od. 17, 621—535.
b
Page 22. 12mo.
c
[...].
*
Chryſes.
a
Il. 1, 60—42.
a
Whoever thinks a faultleſs Piece to ſee, [...]hinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er ſhall be. Pope's Eſſay on Criticiſm.
a
From Aristotle's Lib. de Poet. Cap. 2 [...].
a
Od. 24, 339—289.
b
Od. 24, 376— [...]20
a
Od. 19, 554—475.
b
Od. 16, 208—189. Od. 22, 166—152.
a
Od. 22, 81—67.
b
Od. 19, 85—69.
a
Od. 11, 408—328.— [...], Verſe 333 [...] And V. 369. Alcinous deſires him to proceed.
b
—Donec Calchante miniſtro—Tum vero ardemusſcitari.—Aen. 2, [...]00 and 105.
a
Sta [...]za the 6th.
a
[...] (the Diſciples of Pythagoras) [...]. Philo [...]ratus de Vita Apol: Lib. 1 [...] Cap. 1.
a
Od. 16, 243—220.
b
Od. 21, 240—226 [...]
c
Od. 24, 404—346.
d
Od [...] 23, 212—205.
e
Od. 10, 288—246.
e
Od. 10, 288—246.
a
Od. 11. 665—537.
b
Note ibid. and Longi [...], θ.
a
Od. 5, 305—238.
a
[...]. Longinus, [...] [...]nd Cicero: Rarum eſt eloquenter loqui; [...]iu [...], eloquenter [...]acere. Ep. ad Atticum [...] L. 13.
b
See Dem. Phal. [...].
a
Od. 16, 217—195.
b
Od. 24, 411—351.
a
Od. 23, 240—230.
a
Od. 16, 249—226.
a
O [...]. 17, 55—44.
a
As Tireſias in the 11th Odyſſ [...]y; or Anchiſes in the 6th Aeneid.
b
See Il. π', Ver. 844 and 852. Aen. 10, 739.
*
Th [...]oclymenus.
a
Od. 20, 430—357.
b
[...].
a
Joel 2. 31.
b
Amos 8. 9.
c
Ezek. 32 8.
a
Blackwall's Sacred Claſſicks [...]
85
[...]) Od. 22, 38—33.
86
(b) Od. 21, 104—98.
a
See Aen. 10, 501.
a
Od. 18, 308—263.
a
Od. 24, 272—232.
b
Od. 4, 116—91.
a
Od. 24, 622—537.
b
Od. 24, 612—527.
c
Od. 20, 256—204 [...]
a

Virgil ſeldom deſcends to particulars: h [...] c [...]uſes rather to ſay in g [...]n [...]al, Atque D [...]s, a [...]q [...] a [...]tra vocat crud [...]l a m [...]r. [...]v [...]n his [...] i [...] [...]ore reſerv'd than Hom [...]r' [...] Deiſrs: He rather [...]idicules than aff [...]nts; Aſ [...] a [...] me Divum p [...]ter a [...]q [...] Hominum R [...]x Viderit—Afterwards he grow [...] [...] little Wa [...]mer, and more Me [...]apho [...]ical;

D [...]xtra mihi Deus, & [...]lum quod miſſile libro, Nunc adſint—

Where he ſpeaks plaineſt of all, Virgil touch [...] upon his miſerable fa [...]e in the very next line:

N [...]c mort [...]m horremus [...] nec Divum parcimus [...] D [...]ſine. Jam venio moriturus.—Aen. [...]

a
Il. 1, 39—29
b
Il. 12, 284—243.
a
Praecipuè ex his oritur mira ſublimitas, qu [...] [...]ud [...]ci [...] proxima periculo tranſlationis attollitu [...] [...] T [...]llun [...]ur quum rebus ſenſu carentibus actu [...] quendam & animos damus. Quintil. Lib 8. Cap. 6. Ariſtotle and Phala [...]eus ſay exactly the ſame; ſ [...]e the la [...]er [...].
a
Od. Vol. 5 [...] Pag. 238.
a
As when we amplify the Swiftneſs of a [...] Hero, by comparing it to the Flight of an Eagle [...] or
b
the Swiftneſs of an Eagle, by comparing i [...] to the Swiftneſs of the Winds.
a
See Addiſon's Works, Vol. 1. Pag. 78. 120.
a
Od. 10, 291—248.
a
Od. 6, 374—311 [...]
b
Od. 6, 204—169. As Aen. 3. 672.
d
Od. 9, 581—495. Aen. 8, 712.
a
Habakkuk 3, 10.
b
Od. 20, 335—268.
c
Od. 17, 506—421.
a
Od. 24, 540—470.
b
Od. 24, 558—484.
c
Od, 24, 618—534.
a
Od. 22, 136—119.
b
Od. 9, 449—378.
c
Od. 14, 499—447.
a
As does Virgil, Georg 4, 29.
b
Od. 131—112. See V. 565 ib. 48 [...].
a
Od. 2, 28—21.
b
See Od. 19, 286—251. [...] 20. Verſe 19, to Verſe 30—13, to 23. [...] See Spectator, Numb. 5.
a
Od. 13, 22—18.
b
Od. 4, 587—431.
c
Od. 16, 380—368.
a
Il. 2, 60—49.
b
Il. 19, 1.
c
Il. 11, 1.
d
Il. 8, 83—66.
e
Od. 9, 515—437.
f
Od. 16, 381—368.
g
Od. 4. 587—431.
g
Od. 4. 587—431.
h
Od. 19. 500—428.
i
Compare Od. 19, 500, with 6, 58.
a
Aen. 6, 536 &c.
b
Thus Donatus, Ruaeus, &c
c
Aen. 7, 26, and 6, 536.
d
[...]. Idyl. 13.
e
Aen. 5, 10 [...]
f
Aen. 6, 536.
g
Aen. 7, 26.
h
K [...]. L [...] cophron.
a
The Twilight is reckon'd into the Night. [...] [...], 433. And the firſt direct appearance of [...]ays attributed to the Sun; ibid. 422.
b
Il. τ', 2.
c
See Mr. Pope's Note on Il. 5, 928.
d
Od. ψ' [...]44.
e
See Note on Od. 23, 260.
f
[...]. Il. β', 49, &c.
g
This Euſtathius ſhews [...] large in his firſt Note on the ſecond Book of the [...]dyſſey: particularly, as to the Epithet [...].
a
O [...]. 19, 149—128.
b
Od. 17, 49—39.
c
Od. 5, 21 [...], and 216—167.
a
Od. 19, 22—18.
b
Od. 19, 143—122 [...], O [...]. 17, 49—38.
a
C [...]ſaubon.
b
Perſius.
c
Preface to his Wo [...]ks, Fol. and Pref. to the [...]ſtorals. p. 10.
a
See Note on Odyſſey 11, 152—18, [...]07.
b
From Ss. Book 16, 237. ibid. 420. B. 18, 158. B. 19, 99 &c V [...]rgil. B. 15, 250. B. 16, 189. B. 17, 227.—Ibid 523. B. 18, 121. B. 24, 131. &c.—Homer. B. 17, 613. B. 24, 513.—Milton. B. 19, 694. B 20 [...]370. B. 24, 498. &c.—Dryden. B. 23, 322. B. 24, 309. i [...]id. 632.—
c
Sp [...]ctator, Numb. 369.
a
So Pallas ſpoke: the mandate from above
The King obey'd. The Virgin-ſeed of Jove
In Mentor's form confirm'd the full accord,
And willing Nations knew their lawful Lord.

Homer himſelf does not end in ſo full and compl [...]at a manner: His laſt Line does not reſt well: and Chapman ſeems reſolv'd to ſhew the infirmneſs of it, as much as he could poſſibly in his Tranſlation, which breaks off in theſe Lines.

—Twixt both parts the ſeed of Jove,
Athenian Pallas, of all future love
A League compos'd; and for her form, took choice
Of Mentor's likeneſs; both in limb, and voice.
a
Od. 19, 461. And 547—392, and 467.
160
Quid ſit pulchrum, quid turpe, qu [...]d u [...]ile, quid non, [...]nius ac melius Chryſippo & Cran [...]o [...]e dicit [...] [...] 1. Ep. 2.
a
Od. 6. 245—207.
b
Od. 9, 321—269.
c
Od 6, 24 [...]—208.
a
Od. 9, 329—271.
b
Od. 7, 265—199.
c
See Od. 7, 256—194.
a
De Officiis [...] p. 20. In beneficentiâ delectus eſſet dignitatis &c.
b
Od. 17, 471—387.
a
Od. 7, 264—198.
a
Od. 18, 171—141.
a
Aen. 9, 206.
b
Od. 17, 523—441.
c
See Note on Il. 17, 731—647.
a
Il 12, 284—243.
b
Origin of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue.
c
See Ariſt Rhet. Lib. 2. Cap 21.
a
See Note on Od. 7, 379.
b
Ariſt. Rhet. [...]ib. 2. Cap. 21.
c
Addiſon's Miſc. vol. 1. p. 237. 120.
d
Port. 'Tis not in mortals to command ſucceſs; [...]ut we'll do more, Sempronius; We'll deſerve it [...] [...]emp. Curſe on the ſtripling how he apes his [...] [...]mbitiouſly ſententious.—Cato. Act [...]. [...]
a
Aen. 10, 860.
a
Od. 22, 226—208.
b
Od. 2, 54—47. [...] Od. 18, 443—397.
d
V, 610.
185
(e) Bel. Jug. [...] 106. Ed. Mattaire [...]
a
Od. 24, 499—436.
a
Od. 18, 299—255.
b
Od. 1. 77—59.
c
Haec verba mehercule un [...] falſa lachrumula, Quam, ocul [...]s t [...]rendo miſere, vix vi expreſſerit, Reſtinguet.—Eun. Act. 1. Sc. 1.
d
Thus Dryden: from his—Non tu in triviis, indocte, ſolebas Stridenti miſ [...]rum ſtipula diſperdere carmen. Ecl. 3, 27. As others from this Line: Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Maevi. ib 90.
a
Ιλ. χ, 48. The Oppoſition is carried on farther in the next Lines, between [...], & [...].
a
σ', 224.
a
Ιλ. σ', 248.
b
ib. π', 70.
c
—σ', 262.
d
Ιλ. ν', 60, 75.
e
ib. ξ, 150.
f
ib. ο', 242.
g
Od. 24, 547—475.
h
Od. 24, 561—485.
a
Cap 9. Ed. Ox [...]n. 1718.
b
See Preface to B [...]ileau's Works.
c
See Huetij Dem. Ev. Prop. 4. Sect. 53.
a
Plutarch's Life of Marius.
b
See Quintil. Inſtit. Lib. [...]. Cap. 3. and Lib. 9. Cap 2.
c
Il. 8. 80—65.
a
Il. 10, 356—298.
b
Note on Il. 10, 3 [...]6.
c
Minus eſt totum dicere, quam omni [...].
a
Inſtit. Lib. 8. Cap. 3.
b
To form Moun [...] A [...]h [...]s into a Statue of Alexander the Great; ſo deſig [...]'d [...] as to hold a City in one hand, and to have a River run thorough the other.
a
His Picture of that Giant in Miniature.
a
Od. 9 [...] 217.
214
(b) Ibid. 354.
c
Ibid [...] 469.
d
Il. [...], 676.
a
—Balaenarumque prementem Egeona ſuis immania terga lacertis. Met. 2, 10.
c
See Note ibid.
219
[...]) Il. 21, 470—404.
a
Od. 5 [...] 529—413.
b
Od. 11, 139 and 3 [...].
a
Od. 5, 521.
b
Od. 12, 474.
a
Characteriſticks. Vol. [...]. Pag. 389.
a
Aen. 2, 369.
b
Od. 23, 369.
c
Ingreditur (que) ſolo & caput inter nubilacondit Ae 4, 177. [...]. Lxx per Grabe. [...], 16.
a
T [...]. De Subl. θ'. Edit. Oxon.
b
Eſſay on Criticiſm.
c
Note on Il. 8, 16.
d
[...]. V, 722.
a
Heſiod's [...]. 744.
a
Spectator, Numb [...] 412.
b
Numb. 4 [...]
c
Numb. 412.
a
Eadem fere eſt ratio minuendi: Nam [...]otidem ſunt deſcendentibus, quot aſcendentibus gradus. Quintil. Inſtit. Lib. 8. Cap. 4.
a
Od. 22, 88—75.
b
Od. 17, 549—4 [...]1.
239
L [...]nginus, Cap. 3
a
Od. 22, 2.
b
Od. 3 [...] 435—3 [...]9.
c
Il. 21 471.
d
Od. 10 [...] 131—115.
*
Antiphates.
e
Od. 10, 144—124.
a
Od. 23, 337—313.
b
Od. 7, 228.
c
Od [...] 19 [...].
d
Od. 7, 296—215.
e
De Arte P [...]et. [...] 95.
a
Od. 23, 387—360.
b
Od. 13, 156—135.
c
De A [...]e Po [...]. V. 139.
a
Od. 15, 295—270.
b
See Od. 13, 164 to 172—140 to 147.
c
Miſc. Vol. 2, p. 300. 120.
a
All [...]z vous, luy dit-il, ſ [...]ns bruit chez vos parens [...] Ou vous avez laiſſe vo [...]re honneur & vos gans ib.
b
D [...]ſ. on the Claſſicks [...] p. 217.
a
Od. 17, 400—328.
b
Od. 15, 560—517.
c
Od. 8, 68—69.
d
From Voſſius de Carm [...] Cantu. p. 45.
e
As in Horace's Art of Poetry, V. 139 and Virgil's [...] Geo [...]g. V. 181.
a
Od. 8, 78.
a
Od. 17, 550—463.
b
Od. 4, 227.
a
Eſſay on G [...]rg [...] 1. Pref. p. 3.
b
V. 227.
c
V. 41—35.
a
Od. Vol. 5. p 237. 120.
b
Od. [...] 282—239.
c
V. 625—541.
a
See Od. 4, 543, and 548—10, 285. &c Od. 9. 443—373. Aen. 3 [...] 632. Addiſ [...]n's [...] V. 1. Pag. 61. 120.
a
Il. 9, 612.
a
O [...]. 16, 35—3 [...].
b
See Note on Od. 18, 412.
c
S [...] Od. 4, 974. 14, 122. and 18, 412.
a
Od 19, 110—91.
a
Od. 24. 504—437.
b
Od. 10, 593—499.
c
Od. 7, 123—94.
a
Egli è vivo, e parlerebbe, ſe non oſſervaſſe la ragola del Silentio
b
Od. 23, 47—51.
c
Mr. Wollaſton.
d
Bouhours.
a
Od. 12, 32—22.
a
Lord Bacon. De A [...]gm. Scient. Lib 6. Cap.
a
Od. 22, 32—27.
b
Od. 10, 205—180.
c
Od. 22, 13—10.
a
Addiſon's M [...]ſc. Vol. 1. p. 239. 120.
b
O [...] 14, 454—410.
c
Malbranche. Search after Truth V. 2 p. 74.
a
Od. 14, 209—180.
b
Od. 11, 740—599.
a
Od. 19, 245—209.
b
Od. 11, 487—391.
c
Dryden's Pref. to Juvenal, p. 84. 80.
a
[...]gnoſcenda quidem, ſcirent ſi ignoſcere man [...]
b
B [...]ckwall's Introd. to the Claſſick [...], p. 214.
c
G [...]org. 1 [...] 404.
a
Addiſo [...] Vol. 1. Pag. 76. 12 [...].
a
Od. 15, 319—296.
b
Od. 23, 336.
a
Od. 14, V. 8 to 26.
b
Od. 17, 316 and 415.
c
Od. 17, V. 230 to 245.
a
Od. 15, 151.
b
Od. 11, 226.
c
Od. 16, 15 [...]
d
Od. 24, 285.
e
Od. 24, V. 237, 256, 26 [...] and 395.
a
Od. 22, 430—387.
b
Compare Aen. 2 [...] 303. δ', 455.
c
See Od. 12, 300. and the Note [...]re.
a
Od. 7, 135—106.
b
Od. 24, 14 [...]
c
S [...]e Od. 5, 420—330.
a
As in Mr. Pope's Iliad 22, V. 257 to 262. Book, 21.
c
Od 5, 64.
d
Od. 12, 300.
a
Guarini's Paſtor Fido. Att. 4. Sc. 7.
b
O [...] [...]. 42.
c
—Cui ſaepe ſuis in montibus hirc [...] Prolixam invidit barbam—De Cambro-Bri [...] Thus Virgil's Abietibus juvenes patriis & montibus aequos.
d
Od. 17, 47—37.
a
Od. 18, 229—192.
b
Od. 5, 630—488.
c
Ibid 417.
d
Od. 19, 605—518.
a
Georg. 4, 511.
b
Od. τ', 523. [...]
a
See Ιλ. ξ, 394.
b
[...], 453 to 483.
a
Before his Tranſlation of the Georgicks.
a
See a Pindarick Ode on Cowley, in Dryden's Miſc. (Vol. 4) particularly the whole third Stanza.
b
Ad inferendam rebus lucem repertae ſunt Similitudines.—Praecipuè cuſtodiendum, ne id quod Similitudinis gratiâ adſcivimus, aut obſcurum ſit [...]ut igno [...]um. Quintil. Inſtit. Lib. 8. Cap. 3.
a
Figures either belong to the Diction, or the S [...]ntiment: the latter is what is here intended.
a
Book, 21.
b
B. 16.
c
B. 24.
d
B. 23.
e
Od. 23, 215.
a
Od. 20, 419.
b
Od. 18, 194—162.
a
Od. 19, 247.
b
See Note, ibid.
a
See Chryſoſtom. Tom. 6. pag. 5. Ed. Savil. [...] &c.
b
Where the Hiſtorian ſays that Pope died ‘Con allegrezza non mediocre della cor [...]e: [...]a quale ben ammirava le vertu di quello, che erano una gravita naturale, et eſſemplare parſimonia, & diſſimulation [...]; odiava pero maggio [...] mente l' avaria [...]ia, durezza, & crudelta.’ Hiſt. del Concilio Trid [...] p. 68.
a
Od. 9, 604—516.
a
Od. ζ', 16 [...]—6, 193.
b
Aen. 9, 682 and 1 [...], 700.
a
Ιλ. χ', 355.
b
Il. 10, 22 [...]—189.
a
—Vaſtos a rupe Cyclopas Proſpicio, ſonitum (que) pedum, vocem (que) tremiſco. Aen. 3, 648.
b
—Ex oculis ſe turbidus abſtulit. Ae. 11, 814.
—Tum pectore ſenſus
Vertuntur varii. Rutulos aſpectat & urbem,
Cunctatur (que) met [...], telum (que) inſtare tremiſcit. 12, 916.
c
Tum primum noſtri Cacum videre timentem Turbatumque oculis.—8, 223.
d
[...].— [...], 169.
a
Od. 24, 201 to 208.
b
Aen. 9, 550.
c
Od. 12, 245.
d
Od. 18 [...] 284.
e
—Subitus tremor occupat artus;
Diriguere oc [...]i: tot Erinnys ſibilat hydris,
Tantaque ſe facies aperit.—Aen. 7, 448.
a
[...] &c.—Ιλ. θ', 98. See Note on Odyſſey 10, 295.
b
This ſort of Idea is ſtrongly expreſs'd in the Odyſſey [...]

Gods! ſhould the ſtern Ulyſſes riſe in might, Thoſe gates would ſeem too narrow for thy Flight. 18, 427—6, 385.

c
Od. 22, 417—284.
a
See pope and Dacier on the Shield of Achilles. [...]. Book 18.
a
Thus where Europa is ſaid
—Terras ſpectare relictas
Et comites clamare ſuas, tactumque vereri
Aſſilientis aquae, timidaſque reducere plantas:
One ſhould forget it was only in Picture, did not the Poet take ſo much pains to inform us of it;
Ipſa videbatur terras &c—
Verum taurum, freta vera pataras.
Met 6, 107.
b
See Aen. 8, 634.
c
Ibid. 711.
d
See Pope's Il. 18, 595 to 626.
e
Ibid. 677.
a
Il. 18, 683
b
Od. 19. 268—23 [...].
c
Il. 14, 252—127.
d
See Ιλ. σ', 475
e
Ibid 480.
f
Ibid. 549
a
Od. 11, 756—608.
b
Aen. 1, 482.
a
Od. 24, 6.
b
Od. 21, 449—411.
c
Fluviorum rex Eridanus. Georg. 1, 482.
S [...]xoſumque ſonans Hypanis. Georg. 4, 370.
Or theſe—Fluvio Tiberinus amaeno
Vorticibus rapidis, & multa flavus arena
In mare prorumpit. Aen. 7, 32—Fragoſus
D [...]t ſonitum ſaxis & torto vortice torrens AE. 7. 567.
d
Georg. 2, 160.
e
Georg. 3, 14.
f
Georg. 1, 109.
g
Aen. 1, 103.
h
Od. 21, 461.
i
Il. 1, 64.
a
Od. [...]2. 2 [...]2.
b
See Pitt's Vida [...] p. 108. & [...]
c
[...] [...]2 2 [...]
a
See Note on Od. 14, 1.
b
Οδ. λ', 597.
c
See Note on Od. 11, 736.
a
Od. 11, 738.
b
Mr. Pope's Art of Criticiſm [...]
c
Od [...] 11, 736—594.
d
See Note on Od. 11, 736.
a
Ter ſunt conati imponere Pelio Oſſam
Scilicet, at (que) Oſſae frondoſum involvere Olympum.
Georg. 1, 282 Sec. Ed. Ruaei.
[...], 315.
Heav'd on Olympus tott'ring Oſſa ſtood;
On Oſſa, Pelion nods.
Od. 11, 388.
b
See Note on Od. 6, 193 [...]
b
See Note on Od. 6, 193 [...]
c
Exulting in Triumph now riſe the bold Notes. Mr. Pope's Ode on Muſick [...]
403
(a) See Note on Od. 6, 153.
a
As Virgil from the glories of Rome, to the death of Marcellus. Aen. 6.
b
Quantos ille virum magnam Mavortis ad urbem
Campus aget gemitus! vel quae, Tiberine, videbis
Funera, cum tumulum praeterlabere recentem.
Aen. 6, 874.
This Delay alſo fixes the melancholly on ones
Mind: and for the ſame reaſon Repetition ſeems
to be particularly uſeful on theſe ſubjects:
—Ut vultum vidit morientis & ora,
Ora modis, Anchiſiades, pallentia miris;
Ingemuit miſerans graviter.—Aen. 10, 823.
a
See Quintil. Inſtit [...] Lib. 10. Cap. 7, Eſt igitur uſus quidam irrationalis &c. Or Mr [...] Lock's Eſſay. Lib. 2. Cap, 9. Sect. 9, and 10.
a
Dion. Hal. [...].
a
The Ancients (ſays he) us'd Muſick in eve [...]y thing; Adeo quod ipſae quoque plagae ad [...] harm [...]nic [...]s ſontibus i [...]gerebantur. De Viribus Ry [...]hmi. p. 47.
b
Non ſemel recordor me in ejuſmodi incidiſſe manus, qui quorumvis etiam can [...]icorum mo [...]s ſuis imitarentu [...] pectinibus; it [...] ut nonnunquam Iambos v [...]l Trochaeos, alias Dactylos vel Anapaeſtos, nonn [...]nquam Amphib [...]aches aut Paeonas quàm ſci [...]iſſimè exprimerent und [...] haud m [...]dic [...] [...]ri [...]b [...]tur del [...]ctatio. ib. p [...] 6 [...].
a
Od. 18, 282—239.
a
Longinus condemns a Paſſage in Heſiod on this very Account: de Subl. Cap. 9.
b
Od. 14, 473—425.
c
Od. 4, 725—538.
d
Od [...] 1, 214—165.
e
Od. 4, 547—405.
f
Od. 11, 782—632.
a
Il. 23, 147—120.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3350 An essay on Pope s Odyssey in which some particular beauties and blemishes of that work are consider d. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-60E9-1