An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the FIRST.

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 en⯑joyment of thoſe Pleaſures, which at⯑tend 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 in⯑to 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 Judg⯑ment of his Friend.

It is by this means that they fall in⯑to each others Sentiments, more than cou'd well be expected from Men of ſo different a Turn. The enlarged Geni⯑us of Philypſus always led him to dwell upon the moſt beautified Parts of a Poem with the greateſt Pleaſure; while Anti⯑phaüs, who has a very clear Head, and has given much into a ſtrict way of think⯑ing, 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 Expreſ⯑ſions, that He did not take a full Satis⯑faction in low Beauty, and ſimple Re⯑preſentations 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 Juſt⯑neſs, 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 con⯑temn a Point as low and mean, tho' in reality proper enough, and naturally ex⯑preſs'd; Antiphaus, in his turn, might happen now and then to blame a Paſſage which requir'd a good degree of Orna⯑ment, 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 Beau⯑ties in that Piece agreeable to their par⯑ticular 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 al⯑ways pay a deference to your more live⯑ly taſte of the Fine and Sublime in Poetry; [4] but you muſt give me leave to diſ⯑ſent 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 com⯑municating whatever Remarks you have made on this Performance. The Eve⯑nings 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 Tran⯑ſlator is to give us the Spirit of the Ori⯑ginal; and where the Original is juſt, the very manner is to be obſerv'd. By the Manner, I would not intend the ex⯑preſs words, or the meer turn of a Peri⯑od; 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 ac⯑quainted 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 Tran⯑ſlation, I cannot but think there are places in it, which differ from the Man⯑ner 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 up⯑on Homer, in relation to his ſinking too Low, or being too Familiar; That as to theſe Particulars he preſerves an Uni⯑verſal Juſtneſs: and that there is not any one place in his Poem, which can be juſt⯑ly 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 gla⯑ring 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 giv⯑ing 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, Phi⯑lypſus, which ſeem both to refine too much upon the Original, and to err ac⯑cording to this Rule. Did you ever ob⯑ſerve thoſe lines on one of the moſt a⯑greeable 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.

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 Foun⯑dation there. 'Tis the ſame Caſe in the following Lines:

You will find theſe ſhort Sketches in Homer to be much more ſimple and natural: [8] I leave it to your Judgment, whe⯑ther they appear better with theſe Co⯑lourings, or not. To add one Inſtance more of the ſame thing. Is it more pro⯑per 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

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 o⯑ther 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,

[9] You cannot but obſerve, by the way, that the Original here is deſigned to ſig⯑nify the real intrinſick Value; while only the outſide and more glittering Cir⯑cumſtances are what the Engliſh dwells upon entirely: but to go on.—The Horns of a Bullock are in this new Lan⯑guage, ^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 cer⯑tainly is ſo in an higher degree. The Reader is delighted when, after a me⯑lancholly 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

But however theſe Paſſages may ſeem to be weaken'd by the finery and luxu⯑riance 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 mat⯑ter 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 Verſify⯑ing; and if Mr. Pope ſometimes falls in⯑to 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, Dry⯑den, 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, be⯑ſide 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 in⯑to a diſpute of this nature. "I was on⯑ly 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 Peo⯑ple, 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 commenda⯑tion among the French Criticks: in ge⯑neral, the Beau Monde is the only name now, for what was call'd by a very diffe⯑rent one formerly; as a fine Scholar, po⯑lite 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 acquaint⯑ed 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 An⯑titheſis? 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 Bucking⯑ham. 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.)

Pardon me, ſays Philypſus, there you do not ſeem to do the Tranſlator Juſtice; the Figure is countenanc'd by Homer him⯑ſelf: 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 for⯑mer; and in ſome, is carried on to a de⯑gree 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:

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

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

Or theſe:

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 un⯑natural; 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 Read⯑ing, the thread of the Story, and a gene⯑ral 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 form⯑ing a judgment on Particulars is, to con⯑ſider 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 Miner⯑va 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:

You know that Mr. Pope, in com⯑paring 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:

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 extraordina⯑ry manner. It is in the Nineteenth Book, where we have a poetical account of a fine Breed of Horſes; The Origi⯑nal runs thus:

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

This, if over-wrought, is the more blameable, becauſe the matter is carri⯑ed 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 hap⯑pineſs of making the leaſt Circumſtance con⯑ſiderable; and that the plaineſt matter ſhines in his dreſs of Poetry. It is true, it ſhines ſufficiently in that. Some bright⯑ning is neceſſary in Poetry: but an ex⯑ceſs 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 beau⯑ties, and which in reality perhaps only turn the Plainneſs and Strength of the Original, into the Fine and the Arti⯑ficial.

[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 opini⯑on that (excepting a word or two) it is render'd with a better grace and with more Juſtice, than we find inthe former.

Mr. Pope without queſtion is happy in a great ſhare of Judgment, as well as Vi⯑vacity and Spirit in Writing: but it is next to impoſſible, in ſo long a Tranſla⯑tion, eſpecially as it is in Rhime, not to give ſometimes into Sound and Orna⯑ment; 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 ma⯑nagement 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 ex⯑preſſiveneſs 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 viti⯑ated 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 under⯑ſtood: Cuſtom will often wear away the propriety of things of this Nature; and as for the propriety of language, that de⯑pends 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 be⯑coming 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 ano⯑ther 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 Con⯑duct 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 counte⯑nance, 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 com⯑poſes 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 ſur⯑prize, 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 tran⯑ſlation before us. A-propos, What a gla⯑ring deſcription of a Sword have we in the Eighth Odyſſey?

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

Where a prodigy is ſent to the Itha⯑cenſians 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,

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

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. Na⯑ture has provided a Sympathy in o [...] Souls; She has put a biaſs into our Tem⯑per, 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, in⯑terrupted 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 Ci⯑cero, and all the Criticks of old, given us ſo numerous rules in this Caſe? Yes, re⯑ply'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 a⯑gainſt the Uſe of Art, as the Appearances of it. 'Tis the greateſt of Arts, to con⯑ceal 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 paſ⯑ſions are to be touch'd, apparent art is apparent fraud; ſo that here particu⯑lar 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:

And that entire paſſage of Penelope.

I wiſh this falſe elevation and profu⯑ſion 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

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 hum⯑ble Account of ſhutting a Door, in the end of the Firſt Odyſſey, to be copied from thoſe illuſtrious Originals.

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 inſenſi⯑bly 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 Anti⯑phaus) that Gentleman is not to be com⯑mended: 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 ſome⯑times.—

One thing I obſerv'd (interrupted Phi⯑lypſus) in the lines you have repeated that the faultineſs of ſeveral of them was owing to an Exceſs in one of the great⯑eſt Beauties of Poetry, I mean, the Meta⯑phors 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 ſin⯑gle 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 dig⯑nity of Verſe, it gives it an agreeable variety; together with a power of Paint⯑ing 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 nar⯑rative 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 atti⯑tudes of Agents. Thus when the Battles are going to join, You ſee Rage ſtalk a⯑midſt the Combatants; pointing with one Hand to the Enemy, and in the o⯑ther, 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 Fi⯑gure 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 ſen⯑ſible: any confuſion deſtroys the very end of it; and yet a little inaccuracy may occaſion groſs errors this way. Some⯑times 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,

To ſay the Go [...] of Light was driving his Car, down the Steep of Heaven (as Mr. Pope ſomewhere expreſſes it) is metapho⯑rical; To ſay the Sun is ſetting, is pro⯑per: 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:

Again:

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:

Such confuſions of the Metaphor and the Proper have a great reſemblance to that abſurdity (of mixing Fable and Reality to⯑gether) 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 An⯑cient 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 Cha⯑racters the ſame throughout; not bro⯑ken, or chang'd, and always conforma⯑ble 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 un⯑intelligible.—This is his (Dryden' [...]) [33] new way of telling a Story, and con⯑founding the Moral and the Fable to⯑gether.’ 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 perpe⯑tually; 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 per⯑plexed. 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 circum⯑ſtances of an Action.

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

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

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 pro⯑per 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 abſo⯑lutely 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 Expreſ⯑ſions 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

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

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, Phi⯑lypſus, 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 evi⯑dent 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 Bor⯑row'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 ſhak⯑ing 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, whe⯑ther the Images were as clear and evi⯑dent, as they ought to be: He knew that the great uſe and ^k beauty of Metaphor, was to give Light and Perſpicuity to a de⯑ſcription; to cloath Words (as he us'd to ſay) with Subſtance; and to make Lan⯑guage 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 pre⯑judice 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 Excel⯑lencies of that great Man, to give one Evening to his Beauties, as well as this to his Defects.—Be ſo good then (inter⯑rupted 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 re⯑flecting upon what had paſs'd between him and his friend, took occaſion to ob⯑ſerve; ‘How impoſſible almoſt it is for thegreateſt Genius not to fail ſome⯑times, in an undertaking of this Na⯑ture: 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 Pow⯑er 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.

BETWEEN company and buſineſs, it was ſome time before Philypſus and Anti⯑phaus cou'd get an Even⯑ing 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 ſig⯑nificant 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 Great⯑neſs 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 ſome⯑times 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 ad⯑mir'd in it are, the Metamorphoſis of Pro⯑teus;—His Speech on the unhappy Cu⯑rioſity of Men;—the account immedi⯑ately 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:

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 Mana⯑gers of the Old Houſe, to bring this Deity upon the Stage, in the ſame manner, that he appears in theſe Verſes. Such a Per⯑formance 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 fur⯑niſhing out a great deal of the Wonderful, and Surprizing, in this way. But to re⯑turn: 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:

Surely nothing in Nature can be con⯑ceived 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 en⯑deavours 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 Coun⯑tenance; 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 un⯑natural 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 na⯑ture; 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 Weak⯑er: 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 Phi⯑lypſus) are not Blemiſhes in a piece; they are downright falſities; meer outrages a⯑gainſt Truth, as well as common ſenſe. No⯑thing 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 Shrews⯑bury [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 [...]

[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.

Give me leave (ſays Antiphaus, inter⯑rupting him)—that very Verſe I have formerly taken notice of; the Tranſla⯑tor ſeems to me to have uſed an unne⯑ceſſary 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 Anti⯑phaus) 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 He⯑roes, 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 Au⯑thor, or not? Is he to preſerve the Man⯑ners 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 inat⯑tention.—

[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 him⯑ſelf 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 va⯑lour. I cou'd tire you with Quotations of this kind: Socrates, in Plato, is al⯑ways brought in to his advantage; and yet there he does juſt the ſame thing with Ulyſſes in the preſent caſe: he him⯑ſelf 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 Commen⯑dation of one ſelf, may by very conſiſt⯑ent with the greateſt Modeſty) is to be found in the ſacred Writings, in which Moſes ſays of himſelf, that he was the Meek⯑eſt Man upon Earth.

Thus free were the Ancients in commend⯑ing 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 groun⯑ded, in a great degree, on a falſe Eſti⯑mate 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.

[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 deſcripti⯑on of a War-horſe, in the moſt finiſht Poem in the World.

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

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 Cir⯑cumſtances 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 for⯑bear repeating to you; tho' I am ſenſi⯑ble, that I have been too long upon this Head already. It is that of Circe to Ulyſſes, in the tenth Odyſſey:

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 ſur⯑prize 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 im⯑petuous 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 im⯑perious 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 ſud⯑den and immediate; and nothing can be greater than the fall from the haugh⯑tineſs of

to the meanneſs of the line, juſt after,

You cannot but obſerve farther, my Antiphaus, that the lines in this deſcrip⯑tion, are every where improv'd with thoſe Figures, which the Ancient Cri⯑ticks 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 Man⯑ner. There is a Note of the Tranſlator on a Paſſage not long before this, which gives us in one view ſeveral excellent Ob⯑ſervations of this kind, and which no doubt he had in his Eye here; for the rules of it are exactly follow'd in the pre⯑ſent caſe. This Poet is the beſt Com⯑mentator on himſelf; give me leave there⯑fore 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 par⯑ticular Article.

‘We have here (ſays he) a very lively picture of a Perſon in a great fright:—the very manner of ſpeaking, repre⯑ſents 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 Con⯑junctions; when the diſcourſe is not [58] bound together and embaraſs'd, it walks and ſlides along of it ſelf. Pe⯑riods thus cut off, and yet pronounc'd with Precipitation, are ſigns of a lively Sorrow; which at the ſame time hin⯑ders, 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 beau⯑tifully wo [...]e into this ſingle piece of Poe⯑try: But there is one peculiar Excellence in it yet behind, which I admire be⯑yond 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 ig⯑norant, then dubious, and at laſt diſ⯑covers gradually in her Thoughts the Character, and very Name of the He⯑roe. Circe, skill'd as ſhe was in all the arts of Magick, is limited in her Know⯑ledge 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 per⯑ceive the Tumult, and the ſucceſſive En⯑lightnings of her Mind. We are led in⯑to a full View of the ſhifting of her thoughts; and behold the various open⯑ings of them in her Soul.

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 Sub⯑lime 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 Ele⯑vation: there is too much of the Enflure (as the French call it) in his Works; and you cannot bear with ſuch a pro⯑fuſion 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 for⯑mer convince us of his Excellence in the poliſh'd, and enliven'd, and pathetick.

How humble are the lines in parti⯑cular, ^a where Ulyſſes meets with Mi⯑nerva 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 Eleva⯑tion.

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 incompara⯑ble Eſſay, are themſelves the beſt example of the thing they treat of; they are ^b in the Eighth Book:

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

By this we ſee, how Mr. Pope can en⯑liven any thing of this kind with the greateſt Juſtice and Beauty: Such (to mention but one more) is that ſingle Paſ⯑ſage, 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 ex⯑preſs'd all the beauties of it, in a lively proper fluency of Verſe:

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 ad⯑vantage 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 Anti⯑phaus) 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 chief⯑ly 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 hang⯑ing Woods, Slopes, and Precipices: Thus,

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 af⯑terwards, when we are told, That he

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 flut⯑tering 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 Vine⯑yards of Alcinous cloſe the Scene on the other.

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

I beg leave to repeat another Deſcrip⯑tion 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?

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 Ima⯑gination, 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 im⯑proves upon Nature: and we might look [67] on the Proſpect it ſelf with ^a leſs plea⯑ſure, 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 Circum⯑ſtances may be added, in deſcribing the works of Nature; or in drawing poeti⯑cal Proſpects.

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

Ulyſſes gives us an account of the for⯑mer at his landing upon the Iſland of that Goddeſs.

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

[68] Again;

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 Ori⯑ginal. But all theſe Beautiful Pictures, are only Pictures of ſtill Life; this Gen⯑tleman's Excellency reaches farther; he is as maſterly in all his Motions, and Actions; he can teach his Pencil to ex⯑preſs 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 ruſh⯑ing ſound of the Water.

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

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

[70]

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 Origi⯑nal, ſhew its Poſition in reſpect of the Horſes, very particularly and diſtinctly?

However, this is a ſlip of a ſmall Na⯑ture: 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, ei⯑ther in defending, or giving up that par⯑ticular: 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 De⯑ſcription 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 Quota⯑tion.

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 ſucceſ⯑ſive 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. Some⯑thing 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 par⯑ticular, which is perſerv'd throughout the whole Piece: It is Ulyſſes his Love for his Country. Give me leave to re⯑peat 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 God⯑deſs (nothing human cou'd have forced him into ſo tedious an abſence: by a Goddeſs)

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,

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 be⯑lieve, you will allow to be better ex⯑preſs'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 ap⯑pears 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.

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 expreſ⯑ſive ^b Simile. We may imagine the ardency of Ulyſſes's Love for his Ithaca, his own proper Country, when we con⯑ſider his Affection for his Country-men, the Grecians in general. Upon an oc⯑caſional revival in his Thoughts of the Deſtructions and Miſery they underwent before Troy, the Hero's Diſſimulation (great as it was) is overcome; his Paſ⯑ſion 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.

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 cer⯑tain (ſays Antiphaus) that he has an ex⯑cellent 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 bor⯑rowing ſo many Metaphors from Paint⯑ing 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 ſuc⯑ceſſion, without any manner of Con⯑fuſion. Any figure in Painting is con⯑fin'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 con⯑c [...]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 Andro⯑mache'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 Ob⯑ſervation, I ever met with, on theſe Double Paſſions. I have ſince read ſeve⯑ral 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 Vir⯑gil; 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:

'Tis but too evident (continu'd Phi⯑lypſus) 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 be⯑tween ſeveral Paſſions at once, puts me in mind of the dubiouſneſs and ſhifting of thoughts, which is illuſtrated by Ho⯑mer by a very apt and expreſſive Simile; than which (ſays Mr. Pope) ‘There ^d is ſcarce any thing, in the whole com⯑paſs 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 Re⯑ſolution is at laſt determin'd:’

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

One wou'd almoſt be perſwaded, that Homer is the dernier Reſſort of all the fineſt Thoughts in Poetry; for this like⯑wiſe 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 Me⯑tamorphoſis.

This ſtruggle of Paſſions has been imi⯑tated 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 par⯑ticularly involv'd the two Families: She is introduc'd upon that Occaſion, ſpeak⯑ing to this purpoſe ^d:

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 ſo⯑lemnly, 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 im⯑prov'd, than to be well tranſlated by Mr. Pope; this only wou'd be too narrow a Commendation of them:—The firſt runs thus:

[82] One wou'd think now that the God⯑deſs was to do nothing but to adviſe a⯑bout 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:

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 particu⯑lar 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 ſuc⯑ceeds upon a former and quite contrar [...] emotion. Armida, deſerted by her Ri⯑naldo, breaths nothing but fury and revenge; [83] ſhe purſues him in the heat of the battle; forgetful of her former paſ⯑ſion, 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 appre⯑henſions of his danger! in an inſtant her Love is too ſtrong for her Reſent⯑ment: in an inſtant, ſhe dreads leaſt her Deſign ſhou'd be effectual, and longs to be diſappointed in her aim:

How finely are the Paſſions blended in this piece? the Tranſition from the ex⯑tremity 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 Fi⯑gure 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 An⯑gelo to have work'd upon? If our Shake⯑ſpear 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 ex⯑preſſes 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, ruſh⯑ing in amidſt the two contending Ar⯑mies; to prevent thoſe fatal Conſequen⯑ces, in which the Victory of either par⯑ty 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 Tri⯑bunal, the Wife of the Judge and Mo⯑ther of the Offenders; and all the Re⯑lations divided in the ſame manner, be⯑tween 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 ap⯑proving 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 Man⯑ner 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 Empha⯑tical. Natural Deſcriptions, as they are Pictures which take in the various Cir⯑cumſtances of a place or action, give us generally ſeveral Groupes of finiſht Fi⯑gures: This, on the contrary, is a way of expreſſing Nature in Poetry, not un⯑like Out-lines and Sketches in Painting: and as the lines in Sketches are fewer, but the more diſtinct; this muſt be al⯑ways 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

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,

This Manner is neceſſary in all Senten⯑tious 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.

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

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

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

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 a⯑mong 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 ſur⯑priz'd to find, how far they fell ſhort of the Tranſlation; eſpecially, in the line [...] [89] that anſwer Circe's threat, and the com⯑plaint 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 Philyp⯑ſus: 'Tis no matter for method or regu⯑larity; 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 begin⯑ning 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 De⯑ſcent into Hell: but 'tis difficult to ſingle out particular beauties from that book; The whole of it is ſo excellently Tran⯑ſlated, and (I believe I may ſay) ſo ge⯑nerally improv'd.

The mentioning Circe juſt now, puts me in mind of another paſſage: 'Tis where Homer deſcribes the Metamorpho⯑ſis 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 in⯑to the following lines.

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 Oc⯑caſion ^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 Tranſla⯑tion, 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:

And in theſe other very Pathetical,

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

This ſometimes gives an additional ſo⯑lemnity, and riſes ſtronger and ſtronger each Line:

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 beau⯑tiful, than in the ^a Siren's Song: That Piece of antient Muſick, is greatly en⯑liven'd in the Tranſlation; the whole flows on in a peculiar Harmony, and the Chorus is very happily added in the Concluſion of it:

The peculiar juſtice and propriety of this, is the manner in which theſe God⯑deſſes apply to Ulyſſes; ^a by offering him knowledge; a thing the moſt oppo⯑ſite to their own Complexion; and a mo⯑tive, 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 ad⯑mire 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 think⯑ing 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?

Among ſo many excellencies, the repeat⯑ing thoſe Lines, which make the Chorus of this Song of the Sirens is not the leaſt beauti⯑ful Circumſtance: there are a Multitude of other paſſages, which deſerve to be men⯑tion'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 Im⯑provement in this Tranſlation, I took [94] particular notice of, and in that, I can be a little more full and di⯑ſtinct.

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 in⯑troduces 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

[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 a⯑mong them which may vary a little from the Original, it is only to add ſome ap⯑poſite Thought, that is not only finer, but at the ſame time perfectly agreeable to the Subject. In ſuch caſes a Tranſla⯑tor 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 particu⯑lar, I cou'd almoſt be poſitive that Mr. Pope read over the Eclogues of Virgil, be⯑fore 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, be⯑fore 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 beauti⯑fied by ſuch Reſemblances, or the Senti⯑ment 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 An⯑cients; And from ^d Dryden, Addiſon, [97] Milton, and ſeveral others of the moſt celebrated Moderns. In his Speeches, we meet with improvements from the Exam⯑ples 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 exceed⯑ingly reſembles the hand of the moſt mo⯑ving of all our Tragick Writers, ſince Shakeſpear.

Antiphaus, upon conſulting the paſſa⯑ges, immediately perceiv'd the ſpirit of O [...]way in them; He then deſired Philyp⯑ſus to direct him to the other imitations he had mention'd: at firſt he did not think they deſerv'd ſo much commenda⯑tion; 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 im⯑prov'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 beau⯑tified, 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 difficul⯑ties 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 Lan⯑guage 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 hi⯑therto ſuſtain his Character in an hand⯑ſome equal manner: and we may ſafely promiſe ourſelves the ſame of the remain⯑ing part of this work: As he enter'd upon this ſtage with the greateſt expecta⯑tions 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 com⯑pleat Poet, according to their repreſen⯑tations of ſuch, will after all be only (what the Earl of Mulgrave calls it;)

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 inve⯑terate Fondneſs.

I am entirely of your opinion, ſays An⯑tiphaus, 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 Anti⯑phaus; 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 ce⯑lebrated 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 vio⯑lent diſlike. This is the great Rule of An⯑tient 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.

ALMOST all the next day Philypſus was taken up in reflecting on what had been ſaid at the cloſe of their laſt meeting: he be⯑gan 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 be⯑fore 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 hur⯑ried away with that vehemence of de⯑light, 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 em⯑ploy'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 col⯑lect 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 Anti⯑phaus: The few Faults of that Piece are ſcarce diſcernible among ſuch a ſuperi⯑our 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 Difficul⯑ty? 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 num⯑ber of Inſtances; And that is a Fault, directly oppoſite to what you particular⯑ly inſiſted upon, in our firſt Converſa⯑tion on this Subject.

It was then, you know, that we con⯑ſider'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 Low⯑neſſes in his Writings; and that he ſome⯑times ſinks into a Diction, which bor⯑ders on the Mean and Vulgar? I have, re⯑ply'd Antiphaus, in ſome few lines: but if you have made any remarks of that kind, I beg rather to ſee thoſe of your obſer⯑vation.

[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.

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

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 impro⯑perly, yet one ſhould be apt to look upon it, as a ſufficient juſtification of his tran⯑ſlator.

For my part (reply'd Philypſus) I have always thought, that there is a wide dif⯑ference 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 Ori⯑ginal. The ſame will hold, in ſome degree, of the other Lines. As it hap⯑pens Mr. Pope in his ^b Note upon one of them,

has given us this proſe tranſlation of the ſame words;

Now it might be thought a rude que⯑ſtion, 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 delight⯑ful 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 addi⯑tional Lowneſſes: I obſerv'd particularly that they were pretty frequent, when the Scene is in Ithaca: Thus;

Again;

Again;

The meanneſs here (interpos'd Anti⯑phaus) 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 in⯑to the uſe of Expreſſions, which are flat and contemptible. Thus I believe, we may account for the Lowneſſes in theſe Couplets:

[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:

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 termi⯑nating of the Lines.

There are a Thouſand other things (reſum'd Philypſus) which contribute to the meanneſs of ſtile; even a deſire to a⯑void it, will occaſion it: 'Tis not un⯑commonly ſeen that the ſtraining to ele⯑vate 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:

And in theſe other:

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 be⯑low 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 incon⯑venience of Rhime) Mr. Pope does ſome⯑times, 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 cer⯑tainly ſound ſo in the preſent: In ſpeak⯑ing of a Perſon entirely loſt in melan⯑cholly, 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 un⯑happineſs, 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:

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

As is Ogilby by Hobbs;

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 hand⯑ſome poetical turn:

[115] This expreſſes the full ſentiment; and that, with an air of greatneſs, and ma⯑jeſty in it: 'Tis now Language not un⯑fit 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 ge⯑nerally run from one extreme to the other, he was afraid, that the making him ſen⯑ſible 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 ſuf⯑ficiently 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 An⯑tiphaus) 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 fre⯑quent 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 har⯑mony there is in this couplet, which comes firſt into my Head;

And what a Panegyrick in this?

I will read you but a few more:

And

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

Mr. Pope has had a Critique on ſome Lines of his Iliad, which is chiefly taken up in diſcovering, or making Falſe Eng⯑liſh of them: If this can neither darken the Line, nor affect the Senſe conſidera⯑bly, it ſeems to me not to be of any con⯑cern 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 Pec⯑cadillo'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 invete⯑rate 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 comtempti⯑ble, 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 hap⯑pily it ſucceeded. The Runick Lays (an⯑ſwer'd Philypſus) I do not pretend to ad⯑mire: 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 ſmi⯑ling) we have not improv'd it yet int [...] middle Rhimes, and ſome other of their ex⯑cellencies. Perhaps it wou'd have bee [...] happy too for our Poetry, if we had con⯑fin'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 Chil⯑diſh ſort of verſe; and ſays that ſome Rhiming Hexameters, which may be diſco⯑ver'd in Homer, were probably the re⯑mains of a Barbarous Age: ‘Virgil (add [...] that writer) had them in ſuch abhor⯑rence, 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 Orna⯑ment of Modern Poetry, was account⯑ed 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 Child⯑hood; upon the fall of their Empire, the Romans doted into Rhime.’

What you have now read to me (in⯑terpos'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 particu⯑larly 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 oc⯑caſion: it was in his more advanc'd Judgment; and particularly, as he him⯑ſelf 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 conſi⯑derations: 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 o⯑ther Paſſions are to be mov'd, as well as Terror and Compaſſion?—Undoubted⯑ly, 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 o⯑ther: 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 be⯑long to the Perſons engag'd in the Poem; and where the Lines are ſpoke, we ſee the attitudes and behaviour of the par⯑ticular Perſons, and receive the words from their Mouth.

Much of what you urge is true; (an⯑ſwer'd Philypſus:) but yet you muſt al⯑low, 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 ra⯑ther to follow the true old Roman man⯑ner. 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 hap⯑py 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 Gentle⯑man, in the monkiſh Ages of Poetry who ſaid of Virgil's Aeneid, that it wa [...] really a very good Poem; and wanted no⯑thing, 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, in⯑troduc'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 Cou⯑plet, chiming on in the ſame ſtops and meaſure, with the moſt tedious unifor⯑mity 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 endea⯑vour'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 Tranſ⯑lation of the Iliad; and gives us an ad⯑mirable ^a Obſervation upon it, toward the concluſion of his laſt work. But af⯑ter 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 ca⯑dence. 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 ſay⯑ing, that this charge is not deſign'd a⯑gainſt ſingle Couplets; The corruption in this reſpect evidently ceaſes, where there are no periods to be varied. To deter⯑mine preciſely where it will grow preju⯑dicial, 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 re⯑gular Rhime: and poſſibly on this very account, the Stanza but of two Couplets has generally unequal Rhimes, (the Se⯑cond Line anſwering the Fourth) and that of Three, varies in the laſt Couplet. However forc'd or delicate this obſerva⯑tion 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 ano⯑ther; 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 tolera⯑ble in Odes: And even in Pindaricks, the moſt extenſive and lofty of any, the pre⯑judice 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 plea⯑ſure. 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 miſ⯑chief, for which it is chiefly to be avoid⯑ed in all large Pieces, and all compoſiti⯑ons 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 a⯑like, without any thing either great or beautiful in the whole; will yield to one of a good deſign, form'd of materials va⯑rious 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 on⯑ly 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 unneceſ⯑ſary 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 fre⯑quently 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 unreaſona⯑ble 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 ſupporta⯑ble 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 Odyſ⯑ſey, they will often applaud the great⯑neſs 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 ob⯑ſolete language? He is every way to be commended as far as any of our an⯑cient Poets are; Only he fell into the common fault of thoſe Ages; and al⯑ways ſhews that trifling labour of making the laſt ſyllable of every alter⯑nate 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 ad⯑mired?’

[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 flou⯑riſh, without incroaching upon true Senſe.

[136] Philypſus began to be moved by what his friend had urg'd on this head: I con⯑feſs (ſays he) You are a powerful adver⯑ſary 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 com⯑mand 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:

[137] Or of theſe;

Theſe Lines are ſomewhat faulty in the ſound, or poſture of the words: but I only mention them; it wou'd be fri⯑volous 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 e⯑nough 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 Contradicti⯑ons—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 Ori⯑ginal. When the Grecian Commanders were drawn into Troy, in the famous Wooden Horſe; the Enemy upon ſuſpi⯑cion 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,

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 Cir⯑cumſtances 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 Tran⯑ſlation, 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,

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 uninhabit⯑ed Iſland, which (I remember) I mention'd to you formerly, as Examples of this In⯑conſiſtency. Such indeed they appear'd to me, even after a ſecond and third Read⯑ing: 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 rea⯑der will be apt to imagine, that the Poet ſpeaks of ^a Inhabitants in a deſart Coun⯑try; 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) Tele⯑machus 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.

—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:

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 ano⯑ther 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 be⯑tween the Expreſſions, where Ulyſſes is ſaid, to be

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 con⯑tempt, 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 na⯑ked Pict; and that in one of Mr. Dryden's Tragedies, which ſpeaks of ^d Silence invading the Ear, has probably been re⯑peated 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 plea⯑ſure 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 Deſcrip⯑tions lively, and the Language generally good and poetical, that work is in gene⯑ral 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 pro⯑nounced good: And one of the greate [...] Criticks among the Greek, carries it far⯑ther; 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 Cir⯑cumſtances;—And That a Poet of a generous Spirit with faults, is greatly preferable to a low wary Writer with⯑out 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 Lan⯑guage 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 find⯑ing faults, which many of their pretend⯑ed Succeſſors are ſo full of in their wri⯑tings. Indeed they very freely pointed out the miſtakes and vices of the great⯑eſt 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 Shal⯑ows. 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 Philyp⯑ſus) are very eaſily known. They ru [...] down the performances of the beſt wri⯑ters with heat and noiſe: every thing is a fault with them. They will go re⯑gularly thorough a Poem, with a con⯑ſtant frown upon them; and think them⯑ſelves 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 Im⯑perfections, have a ſhare in their obſer⯑vations: 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 ſoon⯑eſt. The Character that was given o [...] the French, as Warriors, is true of theſe People, as Writers: They behave them⯑ſelves 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 Wri⯑ter (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 par⯑ticular 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 car⯑ried 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 ve⯑ry 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 vi⯑gour, deſcribing the Paſſion of Achilles; and ſounding out the Wars of the Greeks, with an air the moſt martial and anima⯑ted, 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;

The ſame ſays Philypſus: theſe and that other verſe,

[...]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 Num⯑bers; and the method of ſignifying mo⯑tions, and actions, and all that vaſt va⯑riety 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 Lan⯑guage: '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 Uni⯑verſal 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 de⯑ſerve. 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 Ele⯑ment, 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:

[153] The objects ſhift perpetually in theſe Lines; and yet there is not a ſingle peri⯑od or pauſe in them, the ſound and turn of which does not agree perfectly with the ſentiment: I do not intend to en⯑large much upon them; but had it been wrote in the Days of Dionyſius Halicar⯑naſſaeus, 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:

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.

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.

How happy is the hand of the Poet, and what a Command has he of Na⯑ture, 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 [...];

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. How⯑ever (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.

An ESSAY &c.
EVENING the FOURTH.

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 Anti⯑phaus, without mentioning ſomething of the Odyſſey, and hearing his Sentiments in return. When he had gone entirely thorough the Poem, he went immediate⯑ly to deſire a Meeting, in ſome place where they might talk more at large up⯑on 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 Gar⯑dens 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 De⯑ſcent to the River: at a diſtance, you ſee the Fields and Hills; at firſt in an eaſy Aſcent varied into Paſture and A⯑rable, 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 agreeable⯑neſs 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 Gar⯑dens, 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 Na⯑ture in its infinite Irregularity? Theſe meaſured Riſes and Falls, in Slopes an⯑ſwering each other, Thoſe Groves ter⯑minating 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 or⯑der imaginable. There is ſomething of this in the Pleaſure which is given us by the greateſt Writers. A Noble natural Genius, however irregular and uncon⯑fin'd, delights us in a much higher de⯑gree, 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, me⯑thinks, it wou'd be but Juſtice to at⯑tribute them to the ſame Cauſe: at leaſt where the Spirit of that Poet is ſo diſcernible, as it is in this late Tran⯑ſlation.

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 Particu⯑lars: the Superiority of Beauties or D [...] ⯑fects is the only thing that can deter⯑mine the Character of the Piece. 'Tis poſſible that Mr. Hobbes may have ex⯑preſs'd a word or two correctly, where the New Tranſlation has deviated into a Metaphorical or licentious Expreſſion: but what a ſtrange method of Compari⯑ſon 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 u⯑ſual 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 fi⯑gure, when compar'd to the ſeveral Ex⯑cellencies 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 Beau⯑ties of it are far more numerous, and far more conſiderable, than its Ble⯑miſhes: 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 Like⯑neſſes of Sound; but the Variety of Num⯑bers 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 hap⯑pily practis'd by Mr. Pope, in parti⯑cular, 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 per⯑haps we owe that Juſtneſs and Purity, which in ſo many places makes us ima⯑gine, that we are converſing with Per⯑ſons of thoſe Firſt Ages of the World, in all their Plainneſs and Honeſty of Beha⯑viour. 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 im⯑prove upon Homer himſelf.

Above all, is that flame and ſpirit dif⯑fus'd thro' the whole Poem; and often⯑times ſo well kept up, as to make us forget, that we are reading a Tranſla⯑tion. When we are engag'd in the Piece, do not the great and generous Sen⯑timents 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 Af⯑fected, or too Artificial?

Thus which ever way we turn our⯑ſelves, 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 Perfecti⯑on: That Mr. Pope does not only ap⯑pear among the Few, but that his Su⯑periority 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 ſe⯑veral Points, both as to thoſe things, in which he met with the greateſt difficul⯑ty; 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 Lan⯑guage, 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 Aſſiſt⯑ance in ſupporting the preſent Credit of Language among us.

It wou'd be equally trifling and la⯑borious, to give all the particular In⯑ſtances of this Verſion's enriching our Language. It is every where viſible; there [10] is no reading a Book in the Odyſſey, with⯑out 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 De⯑licacy in Connecting two Words into one, a thing much more difficult than Invent⯑ing: The Union is proper and inſenſi⯑ble; 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 na⯑turally 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 Lan⯑guage, which in this Reſpect greatly ex⯑ceeds all that ever were; So the Imita⯑tions of it, this way, are unuſually Beauti⯑ful and Harmonious.

To deviate from the ſtrict Rules which Grammarians wou'd impoſe on Words, ei⯑ther ſingle, or as they ſtand in their relati⯑ons to one another, gives an agreeable un⯑common Air to Language; but in the very Notion of it carries ſomething of diffi⯑culty, 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 al⯑ready 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 em⯑barraſs the Period.

A thing more uſeful and agreeable than either of theſe, is to turn the ſtream of Words out of their common Chan⯑nel.—There is a good deal of Stiffneſs, which yet attends our Language, from the ſtated order of Words in ſuch a re⯑peated 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 to⯑wards the Liberties of the old Greeks and Romans. Mr. Pope has ſome ſtrokes toward this: he is ſometimes bold in va⯑rying 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 imi⯑tation of ſome of our beſt Poets, who have ſucceeded in it before.

I wou'd not have a certain Gramma⯑rian, or two, over-hear me commending theſe Liberties ſo freely: it wou'd cer⯑tainly coſt one a Diſpute. You know the Men: they are as ſtrict in the Puncti⯑lio'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 unde⯑niable Authorities; diſpoſes of the Up⯑per-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 no⯑ble 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 venera⯑ble, and auguſt: it may therefore be of ſignal Service in giving to the He⯑roick Muſe that Majeſty, which ſo well becomes the Sublime Air ſhe ought to aſſume. 'Tis much the ſame in the re⯑vival of old Words: Antiquity always carries a ſort of Solemnity with it, in its very Roughneſſes and Decays: The Ru⯑ſtick 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 heap⯑ing ſuperannuated Words in ſome late Po⯑ems, is too provoking to be paſs'd by. How have our Miltonick Writers, in par⯑ticular, [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 Thou⯑ſand 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 Hun⯑dred 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 par⯑ticular 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 Bar⯑bariſm; and indeed where-ever they are thruſt in, without any other reaſon ex⯑cept 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 ſtand⯑ing 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 Obſer⯑vations 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 vene⯑rable Turn.

As theſe are the chief Methods of en⯑nobling 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 oc⯑caſion'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 a⯑ny 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 pre⯑ſerves 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 con⯑vey 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 im⯑mediate connexion with ſome known ob⯑ject. 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-compel⯑ling, than we might find in a deſcription more diffuſe. It was chiefly from ^c [18] two Poetical Epithets, that Phidias de⯑ſign'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 Pi⯑cture, 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 circum⯑ſtance.

'Tis by the ſame means, that one ſingle Epithet gives us the Idea of any Object, which has been common and fa⯑miliar 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,

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 Lan⯑guage. 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 Oc⯑caſions he has expreſs'd in one word on⯑ly. May not the ſame Liberty be al⯑low'd to his Tranſlators? Is it not a fine Enlargement for Inſtance, where Ho⯑mer is ſpeaking of Penelope's Veil with the Epithet of Pellucid only, to ſay that

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 Sa⯑tire; and particularly in that Abuſive⯑neſs, which Homer is not over nice in be⯑ſtowing upon his Gods: they appear well in the Ridicule of the Suitors; and are ſtrong and vehement in any Arro⯑gant Character, particularly in all Con⯑temners of the Gods. I ſhall give you only one inſtance of the latter; from Polypheme's Anſwer to Ulyſſes:

You muſt have obſerv'd (Philypſus) ſe⯑veral other Methods of uſing Epithets po⯑etically. I need not mention the peculiar fitneſs and ſtrength, which they may ac⯑quire, 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 Sub⯑ſtantives: 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 man⯑ner. 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 Vege⯑table Venom in the fourth Odyſſey, which an⯑ſwers ^b his Inſtance of Aurum Frondens from Virgil.

I know not whether I perfectly appre⯑hend 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 di⯑rectly applied to it?—Either that; or elſe ſome ſtrange Circumſtance applied in the ſame manner: in both 'tis the No⯑velty 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 Appear⯑ance of things from their inverſion in a River: I think I can repeat it:

[22] Theſe are of the kind I mean, ſays An⯑tiphaus; they are bold, but they are na⯑tural: 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 gene⯑ral 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. In⯑ſtances 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 mix⯑ture of Contrarieties: in any point, ex⯑cept that ſingle one, theſe muſt be en⯑tirely 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 Mo⯑ment) 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 Philo⯑ſopher'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 beau⯑tifying and improving the Diction, may ſometimes fall under a different Cha⯑racter.

[24] Among the Words which are intro⯑duc'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 diſagreea⯑ble ſound. The very Solemnity of Scrip⯑tural 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 beau⯑tiful Forms and Figures of the latter (at leaſt for Poetry and Oratory) to that bare correctneſs, which alone is the Pro⯑vince 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 ſig⯑nification. 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 ba⯑niſhing 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 diffi⯑culty 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 pro⯑priety) as any other Words, the moſt ob⯑vious and intelligible. Any one may di⯑ſtinguiſh 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:

Some of theſe Terms are certainly al⯑lowable; 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 cau⯑tion in inſerting ſome, that are appropria⯑ted to particular Perſons or Things; Many that are us'd much in the Profeſſi⯑ons, 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 Ne⯑ceſſary, for fear of an imputation of Pe⯑dantry, 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 beau⯑tifull, will help to diſcover any Error in their Application. They are each connected ſo immediately to their Sub⯑ject, 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 Ex⯑preſſions: 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 agree⯑able 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:

[30] Longinus, ^a ſomewhere in his Trea⯑tiſe 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 car⯑ries with it. The Metaphor itſelf has certainly ſomething great in it: But had Herodotus join'd ſome of its proper Epi⯑thets 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 de⯑lineated upon Canvaſs.

There is another diſagreement in Epi⯑thets, when two Expreſſions, proper in themſelves, are yet join'd together im⯑properly. After a great Slaughter we may very well have a Notion of Heaps, or (as it is in the Poetical language) Moun⯑tains 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 Bleed⯑ing Mountain does not look ſo reconcile⯑able to the Mind.

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

This, in ſome Meaſure, has been al⯑ways 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 Circum⯑ſtances: tho' a Remark of this kind may ſeem inſignificant, an Impropriety in this Caſe might be very groſs and ſhock⯑ing.

Again: What is proper in one Lan⯑guage, 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 circum⯑ſtances: It may do very well to give the Epithet of browzing, to a Goat; or gra⯑zing, 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,

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: there⯑fore in ſuch Places, where Apollo is re⯑preſented as a God in Perſon, I would uſe the former Interpretation; and where the Effects of the Sun are de⯑ſcrib'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 Tran⯑ſlation: This appears from the firſt Part of that Work, in which we ſome⯑times find the Properties and Effects of the Sun, blended with the perſonal Act [...] of Apollo: thus it is in the firſt Appear⯑ance of that Deity in the Poem. I ſhal [...] read the Paſſage to You, tho' ſomething long: it begins with that beautiful line [...]

The Original here does not once At⯑tribute 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 In⯑firmity 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 Anti⯑phaus) is no more attainable, than a per⯑fect 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 Di⯑ſturbers 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 Tem⯑per, which Antiphaus ſhews upon all Oc⯑caſions.

If you have obſerv'd any thing in me of that Nature (ſays Antiphaus, inter⯑rupting 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 Cha⯑racter 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 men⯑tion them juſt as they come into my Thoughts. My happineſs is, that I ſpea [...] to ſo generous a Friend: I know An⯑tiphaus too well to make Apologies fo [...] the Weakneſs of my Obſervations, o [...] the looſe manner in which I may lay my Thoughts before him.

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 Beau⯑ties and Improvements upon the Ori⯑ginal.

For my part I ſhould not ſtick at car⯑rying this Point farther. I ſhould ima⯑gine, 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;

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:

[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 ac⯑cident 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:

And in another place, from a different Paſſion:

[42] Theſe paſſionate Breaks are one of the fineſt things in Poetry. They are as na⯑tural 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 ſtrong⯑ly, or are very well fill'd up with ſom [...] menacing Action:

Or, as in the Nineteenth Book,

You have puzzled me, ſays Antiphaus Now for my Life can't I tell which to ap⯑prove 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 en⯑gaging 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 im⯑mediately told, that the Phaeacians were eager to hear him on; and 'tis obſerva⯑ble, that the very ^b ſame Break, and the very ſame Sentiment after it, is imi⯑tated 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:

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 Para⯑dox 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 immedi⯑ately 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 Na⯑ture; 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 con⯑tinue 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:

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 ca⯑pable of. I muſt beg leave to read it to you.

Admirable Imagery! and admirable Silence! cry'd Antiphaus. But I hope you will not be ſo poſſeſs'd with the ex⯑cellence of our Poet, as to forget ^a the Ajax of Homer; whom Ulyſſes beſpeaks a⯑gain, 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 con⯑veniences for it. She is always directing him, when employ'd; and when not, ſe⯑cretly 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:

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 excel⯑lent Rule they give us, Of ^b Leaving ſome things for the Audience to perceive of themſelves: Tho' it be not told him, e⯑very Man very eaſily finds out the height⯑ning 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 intro⯑duce 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 Telema⯑chus, on that Occaſion;

The Unravelling of the Doubt is what ſtrikes us moſt, both in Laertes and Pe⯑nelope: in the latter Caſe, this is deferr'd for too long a time: However as they are, they afford us ſome of the moſt pa⯑thetick 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 con⯑verſing with, is his Son?

[51] As to Penelope: Where a modern would have been overjoy'd, and caught imme⯑diately at an Occaſion for ſo many rap⯑tures, 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 Tender⯑neſs and Paſſion.

This unravelling of a Doubt is gene⯑rally follow'd by what is the moſt con⯑trary 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 Tu⯑mult 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 alrea⯑dy) when Telemachus recognizes his Fa⯑ther: Telemachus wants to know ever [...] thing at once; and Ulyſſes wants to te [...] him every thing as faſt:

[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 ea⯑ſily; 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:

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 men⯑on'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, ſome⯑times 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 concern⯑ing 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 Me⯑thod perhaps may carry the greater San⯑ction with it; but the other is the more Poetical.

Some of the ſtrongeſt Speeches in Ho⯑mer and Virgil are deliver'd after this manner, by Men of the Prophetick Cha⯑racter; 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 plea⯑ſing Terrour. There is ſomething hor⯑ribly delightful in theſe Lines.

I beg pardon (ſays Antiphaus) but the Speech of Theoclymenus is a particular Fa⯑vourite 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 Dark⯑neſs ruſhing over the Earth; I cannot ex⯑preſs 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 Orienta⯑liſm, than we meet with in any other part of Homer's Writings. You will par⯑don 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 Dark⯑neſs, 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 Dark⯑neſs 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 De⯑light. 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 Sum⯑mer; 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:

And before:

[60] You obſerve, Antiphaus, that this Event which is ſo often anticipated by the Poet, is the great Point on which the Comple⯑tion 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, per⯑haps, 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:

^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 Ar⯑ro [...] 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 Pen⯑cil.

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

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,

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

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 Diſpenſa⯑tions of Providence. Philaetius in the Od [...]ſſey is no arrogant Character: Yet in one place (upon conſidering the Afflicti⯑ons 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:

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 at⯑tribute to the Poet, what he ſpeaks un⯑der 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 ac⯑cording to their true Character.

What y [...]u aſſert, I take to be perfect⯑ly 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:

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:

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

Whatever reſtraints this kind of Me⯑taphor may deſerve, there is another ſort which has always been receiv'd with the greateſt Liberty. The animating Me⯑taphor, 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 cer⯑tain ſubject for Ridicule; when it pro⯑ceeds 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, Anti⯑phaus, than has commonly been obſerv'd? It is chiefly mention'd indeed of enliven⯑ing things inanimate; Whereas poſſibly it may hold thro' the whole Chain of Be⯑ings in the World, as they riſe gradually [...]bove one another. Thus when we at⯑tribute 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 in⯑cluded in this Branch of Metaphor, as when we give the Powers of Motion to things, Still; or Paſſions, to things Ina⯑nimate.

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, Sympa⯑thize with his Grief, with the ſame free⯑dom 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 Pro⯑perties of an Angel: Nothing would make a common Mortal ſo mean and ri⯑diculous, as ſuch an Elevation: the ſame holds in the higher Intelligents; The Firſt of the Angelick Order looks mon⯑ſ [...]rouſly ridiculous (as well as monſtrouſly impious,) when he would imagine an E⯑quality, where there was an immutable Diſproportion.

However, in ſome Caſes, the Proper⯑ty 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.

[70] But whither am I wandring, my An⯑tiphaus? 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 ge⯑nerally eſtabliſh'd; what you may think the wildeſt of your Flights now, might then be of good Service this way in Poe⯑try.—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 with⯑out 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 ano⯑ther Figure: but it is of a kind, ſo near⯑ly allied to the animating Metaphor, that one often finds ſome difficulty in diſtin⯑guiſhing the one from the other. Indeed when any of theſe Perſonages are intro⯑duced 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 Accepta⯑tion affords. I think, for inſtance, that we need not ſeek for a new Figure in this Paſſage:

Or for this:

In the cloſe of this Poem, the Narra⯑tion 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 Hea⯑ven to effect it:

Theſe, Antiphaus, are the moſt re⯑markable things, I have taken notice of, as to the Figures. I could have pro⯑duc'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 pe⯑culiar 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, glo⯑rious 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.