Chapter IV: Part 4

Just in the Entrance and first Jaws of Hell,
Grief and revengeful Cares their Couches plac'd;
And pale Diseases, querulous old Age,
Fear, ill-persuading Hunger, and foul Want;
(Forms dreadful to behold) and Death, and Pain;
And Sleep akin to Death; the Mind's false Joys;
The Furies Iron Bed; and Discord wild,
Her vip'rous Locks with bloody Fillets bound.
Full in the midst a tall and dusky Elm
Displays its Boughs, and aged Limbs: This Seat
(Such is the Fame) fantastick Dreams possess,
And stick beneath the Leaves.----

We meet with but few Lines of this Poet free from Epithets; many have two, and some three: Nay, sometimes 'tis the Height of Elegance to join more to the same Substantive, without a Conjunction between: As,

_Monstrum horrendum, informe, ingens._----

An Eyeless Monster, hideous, vast deform!
[101]
----_Loricam ex ære rigentem,
Sanguineam, ingentem._----

The Corslet stiff with Brass,
Sanguine, immense.

A Style, therefore, destitute of Epithets, will gain no more Admirers, than a Body made up of nothing but Nerves and Bones: And as the Beauty of this consists in not being too much emaciated, nor yet over-charged with Flesh; so does that of the other in a just Proportion of these sort of Adjuncts, when they are neither wanting, nor too much abound. Verbs and Substantives I suppose to be in Style, what Bones and Nerves are in a Body; because they contain more Strength, tho' not more Beauty than Epithets; which therefore, whenever Emphasis and Energy is required, are totally omitted. Thus _Virgil_:

_Aude, hospes, contemnere opes, & te quoque dignum
Finge Deo._----

Dare to scorn Wealth, brave Guest; presume thyself
Worthy to emulate a God.

And again:

_Est hic, est animus lucis contemptor, & istum
Qui vita bene credit emi, quo tendis, honorem._

Here too, here dwells a Soul that with Contempt
Regards this vital Air, and thinks with Life
That Fame well bought, to which thy Soul aspires.

And at the Conclusion of that admirable Description of _Æneas's_ Shield made by _Vulcan_, thus the divine Poet closes his eighth Book:

_Talia per clypeum Vulcani, dona parentis,
Miratur, rerumque ignarus imagine gaudet,
Attollens humero famamque & fata nepotum._

Such Figures on the broad _Vulcanian_ Shield,
His Mother's Gift, the Hero pleas'd admires
In Ignorance; and on his Shoulder high
Upheaves the Fame and Fortune of his Race.

The last Verse is express'd with all the Strength and Weight imaginable, because without one Epithet. The Reason of this Effect seems to be, that Ideas in the _Concrete_ are no more than Adjuncts of those in the _Abstract_; now that which supports, must needs be stronger than what is supported. To the same Purpose, when this is our Aim, all synonymous Expressions must be avoided; for the shorter and closer the Style, the stronger; but the Matter of it, by being spread among a Variety of Words, is thinned, and, consequently, weakened. The Poet, no doubt, is indulged much more in Epithets and Synonyma's, than the Orator; his Province consisting more peculiarly in Colouring, Description and Decoration. But both of them ought to take Care that these musical and bewitching Elegances are not too redundant; for a Style, whether in Prose or Verse, cannot be attended with a greater Fault than a verbose Luxuriance.

Some, thro' Ignorance of what an _Epithet_ is, may be apt in their Reading to make a wrong Enumeration of them; for all _Adjectives_ and _Participles_ do not (as many think) come under this Appellation, but those only which are annex'd to Substantives, by way of _Ornament_ and _Illustration_; not such as make up the essential Part of the Description. In the following Lines of _Virgil_,

_Diverso interea miscentur mœnia luctu;
Et magis atque magis (quanquam secreta parentis
Anchisæ domus, arboribusque obtecta recessit)
Clarescunt sonitus, armorumque ingruit horror._

Mean while, with Cries confus'd the Walls resound:
And tho' my Father's Palace, fenc'd with Trees,
Stood from the Hurry of the town retir'd;
The Noise grows loud, and th' undistinguish'd Din
Of clashing Arms rolls near.

there is not an Epithet; neither _diverso_, _secreta_, or _obtecta_, comes under that Denomination, but are Adjectives or Participles of the other Kind.

[Sidenote: _Seventh Lecture._]

We come now to enumerate the different Kinds of Style made use of by Poets, and to shew briefly wherein they consist, and to what sort of Verse and Subject each is suitable. To begin, then, with that which is first in Dignity, and therefore ought to be so in Place; the _sublime_, I mean, whose Property it is to express lofty Ideas in no vulgar Strain, but with Words sonorous, pompous, and majestic. This Style is, in the first Place, proper for the Epic Poem; in the next, to some sort of Odes; after that, to Tragedy; then to the severer kind of Satire; and, in short, to all Poems of less Note, that partake of the Heroic, or the Buskin. There are others that make Excursions into it, such as the _Georgics_, and all of the Didactic, or Philosophical Kind, whenever they digress into a more noble Field of Matter, to which their Subject sometimes naturally leads them. But to Comedy, the lower kind of Satire, and Pastoral, it is never agreeable; to Elegy very seldom. In behalf of the first of these, that Place of _Terence_ will be urged, which _Horace_ seems to have had in his View, when he says,

_Interdum tamen & vocem Comœdia tollit._

Yet Comedy sometimes may raise her Voice. _Rosc._

But this Rage of _Chremes_, which _Horace_ mentions, is not, perhaps, so much an Instance of a Comic Sublime, as of a borrowed Tragic Fury. In relation to Pastoral, if _Virgil_'s fourth Eclogue be objected, I answer, that the Poet himself confesses he leaves his proper Subject for a more lofty one, and begins his Poem with a sort of an Apology for it:

_Sicelides Musæ, paulo majora canamus;
Non omnes arbusta juvant, humilesque myricæ.
Sicilian_ Muses, raise a loftier Strain;
Not all in Groves and lowly Shrubs delight.

Not that I suppose Pastoral totally to reject the Sublime, as I shall have Occasion to shew more fully hereafter.

For the present, I suppose, it will suffice to produce one or two Instances, out of innumerable, of the Style we are upon. In the second _Æneid_, _Venus_, shewing her Son what Gods were united for the Destruction of _Troy_, gives us this Specimen of it:

_Non tibi Tyndaridis facies invisa Lacænæ,
Culpatusve Paris; Divûm inclementia, Divûm,
Has evertit opes, sternitque à culmine Trojam._

'Tis not _Tyndarian Helen_'s hated Form,
Nor much blam'd _Paris_; Heav'n, inclement Heav'n
O'erturns this Realm, and levels tow'ring _Troy_.

And a little after:

_Hic ubi disjectas moles, avulsaque saxis
Saxa vides, mistoque undantem pulvere fumum;
Neptunus muros, magnoque emota tridenti
Fundamenta quatit, totamque à sedibus urbem
Eruit; hic Juno Scæas sævissima portas
Prima tenet, sociumque furens à navibus agmen
Ferro accincta vocat.
Jam summas arces Tritonia (respice) Pallas
Insedit, nimbo effulgens, & Gorgone sæva.
Ipse Pater Danais animos, viresque secundas
Sufficit, ipse Deos in Dardana suscitat arma_.

Here, where you see that Rubbish, Heaps confus'd,
Stones wrench'd from Stones, and thick redounding Smoke
Blended with Clouds of Dust; great _Neptune_ shakes
The Walls, and with his massy Trident heaves
The City from its deep Foundations. There
Relentless _Juno_, girt with Steel, has seiz'd
The _Scæan_ Gates; and raging from their Ships
Calls her confed'rate Forces.
Next (that Way bend thy Eyes) the lofty Tow'rs
_Tritonian Pallas_ has possess'd; there sits,
With her dire _Gorgon_. In a beamy Cloud,
Effulgent _Jove_ himself the _Grecian_ Troops
With Courage, and new Strength supplies; himself
Excites the Gods against the _Dardan_ Arms.

Again, a few Lines after:

_Dixerat; & spissis noctis se condidit umbris.
Apparent diræ facies, inimicaque Trojæ
Numina magna Deum._

She said; and in th'involving Shades retir'd:
The direful Shapes appear, and Foes to _Troy_,
Forms of the awful Gods.

And in the last Book, the Poet thus introduces _Æneas_ going to engage with _Turnus_:

_At pater Æneas, audito nomine Turni,
Deserit & muros, & summas deserit arces;
Præcipitatque moras omnes, opera omnia rumpit,
Lætitia exultans, horrendumque intonat armis._

But Prince _Æneas_, hearing _Turnus'_ Name,
Forsakes the Walls, forsakes the lofty Tow'rs,
Breaks all Delay, all other Toil; with Joy
Exults; and thunders terrible in Arms.

Instances of this Style fill every Page, almost, of the _Æneis_; and in the Odes of _Horace_ are very frequent; _v. g._

_Justum & tenacem propositi virum,
Non civium ardor prava jubentium,
Non vultus instantis Tyranni,
Mente quatit solida; neque Auster
Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,
Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus:
Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinæ._

The Man whose Principles are true,
In Heart resolv'd to act aright,
Nor impious Faction's madding Crew,
Nor frowning Tyrant can affright;
Unshaken, like a Tow'r he stands, and braves
The Impotence of great or little Slaves.
The Elements may war around,
Fierce Winds may rave, huge Billows roll,
_Jove_'s Lightning flash, his Thunder sound,
And shock the World----but not his Soul:
He Nature's Wreck can view, without Surprize,
Amidst the shining Ruin of the Skies.
_T. Hare._

_Claudian_, tho' his Style is frequently too swelling, and borders upon the Bombast, yet often hits upon the true Sublime: Thus in the celebrated Description of the Victory which the Emperor _Theodosius_ gained, by the Advantage of the Winds:

_Te propter, gelidis Aquilo de monte procellis
Obruit adversas acies, revolutaque tela
Vertit in autores, & turbine reppulit hastas.
O! nimium dilecte Deo; cui fundit ab antris
Æolus armatas hyemes, cui militat æther,
Et conjurati veniunt ad classica venti._

For thee the friendly North in social Show'rs,
Wide o'er the hostile Troops his Fury pours.
To their launch'd Jav'lins points a backward Road,
And Storms retort the missive Deaths they vow'd.
Great _Jove_ for thee, thou Heav'n's peculiar Care!
Sends forth his wing'd Militia of the Air.
Confed'rate Seasons round thy Standards join,
And mustring Winds attend thy Trumpet's Sign.

Between the Sublime of _Virgil_ and _Claudian_ there's a manifest Difference; the Ideas of the latter are not so just, nor the Diction so pure: He can only be said to be less faulty, when he writes best.

'Tis a remarkable Property of this Style, to be bold and figurative; to abound, especially, with Metaphors and Hyperboles; the Use of which requires great Care and Judgment. It is distinguish'd, on the one Hand, from the turgid, rumbling Bombast, which is much affected by those who are possess'd with a false Spirit of Poetry, and no true Judgment to direct it; and consists either of empty sounding Words, or unnatural Sentences, or absurd Metaphors, or rash Hyperbole's. There are innumerable Examples of it in _Claudian_; _v. g._

_Sol, qui flammigeris mundum complexus habenis,
Volvis inexhausto redeuntia secula motu,
Sparge diem meliore coma; crinemque repexi
Blandius elato surgant temone jugales,
Efflantes roseum frænis spumantibus ignem._

Light of the Spheres, that with unwearied Ray
On flaming Harness roll'st the golden Day,
Undrain'd and sprightly seest fresh Seasons born,
With softer Tresses shed this fatal Morn.
Let thy hot Coursers spring with sleeker Manes,
And rosy Fires breath o'er the foaming Reins.

In another Place:

----_compage soluta
Fulgidus umbrosa miscebitur axis Averno._
Dissolv'd the Fabrick of the World,
The Sun's bright Axis in _Avernus_ hurl'd.

And again:

----_Clypeus nos protegat idem,
Unaque pro gemino desudet cardine virtus._

One Shield shall us protect,
And for its double Charge one Safeguard sweat.

So _Statius_, in the very Beginning of his _Sylvæ_:

_Quæ super imposito moles geminata Colosso
Stat Latium complexa forum_, &c.

This Mass, on which the great Colossus rides,
The Forum with a wide Embrace bestrides.

To omit others, thus _Casimire_:

----_Currite candidis
Horæ quadrigis._

With snowy Steeds, ye nimble Hours, fly.

In another Place:

_Anni nubibus insident,
Incertis equitant lustra Favoniis,
Cæco secula turbine._

Years ride on Clouds,
About uncertain Zephyrs Lustrums play,
And on black Whirlwinds Ages die away.

There are many other Instances of this kind in the same Poet; who seems to have been peculiarly delighted with this hard and unnatural Way of Writing.

The _Sublime_, on the other Hand, is distinguished from the _Humble_; which has its Elegance as it is used in its proper Place. It is proper, when we would describe, in a familiar and easy Manner, the common Concerns of Life; and agrees more especially with Comedy, the lower kind of Satire, and Epistles; and, as Occasion serves, may be admitted in all Sorts of Poems. Instances of it are very numerous:

_Qui, fit, Mæcenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem
Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit, illa
Contentus vivat, laudet diversa sequentes?_

Whence comes, my Lord, this gen'ral Discontent?
Why do all loath the State that Chance hath sent,
Or their own Choice procur'd? But fondly bless
Their Neighbours Lots, and praise what they possess.
_Creech._

_Prima dicte mihi, summa dicende Camæna,
Spectatum satis, & donatum jam rude quæris,
Mæcenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.
Non eadem est ætas, non mens_, &c.

My Lord, _Mæcenas_, whom I gladly chuse,
The first, and the last Subject of my Muse;
Tho' I have fought enough, and well before,
And now dismist, have Leave to fight no more;
You strive to bring me on the Stage again:
My Age is not alike, unlike my Brain.
_Creech._

It is needless to add any more: _Terence_'s Comedies, and _Horace_'s Satires and Epistles, consist entirely almost of this Style, and are abundant Proof of its Elegance.

The Style of Pastorals is likewise of the humble Kind, but still distinct from what I have now been instancing in. The one, as I said, is suited to Comedy, Satire, and Epistles; the other to Bucolics: The former represents common Life, and more especially as it appears within the City; the latter draws all its Images from the Country; that looser and freer, this sweeter and more elaborate. But of these Things more hereafter, when we come to treat of this delightful Species of Poetry separately. At present let it be observ'd, that there is a middle Kind of Style between the Sublime and the Humble, suitable to every Branch of Poetry. This of _Ovid_ is a Specimen of it:

_Arma gravi numero, violentaque tela parabam
Edere, materia conveniente modis.
Par erat inferior versus; risisse Cupido
Dicitur, atque unum surripuisse pedem.
Quis tibi, sæve Puer, dedit hoc in carmina juris?
Pieridum vates, non tua turba, sumus._

Whilst I to sing in lofty Verse prepare,
The bloody Triumphs of destructive War,
The Urchin _Cupid_ mock'd my rash Design,
And stole one Foot from each alternate Line.
But who, my Boy, gave thou this great Command?
We are the Muses, not the Lovers Band.

Innumerable are the Instances of this middle Style among the Poets, especially in _Virgil_'s _Georgics_, which are chiefly writ in that Way. For it is to be particularly observ'd, that, because the Matter of a Poem is low, it by no means follows the Thoughts and Diction must be so too, and that there's no necessary Connexion between a common Subject and a vulgar Style. To prescribe Rules for Sowing, Harvest, and other Matters of Husbandry, is a slight Subject, but not therefore to be treated with the Unpoliteness of a Clown. Tho' the Poem be preceptive in its Nature, it may be elegant in its Manner; it may be employ'd upon Things of small Moment, yet they may be cloath'd with Ornament, and heighten'd by Description. But Comedy, and the looser kind of Satire, as they regard only the Manners of Men in common Life, are chiefly adapted to the low Style.

It then becomes faulty, when any Thing of a sublime Nature, at least above the common Level, is introduced with some low creeping Expression. Thus _Ovid_, where he speaks of the Council of the Gods:

----_tenuere silentia cuncti._

The great Immortals held their Tongues.

And describing _Phaeton_ run away with by the Horses of the Sun:[123]

_Succutiturque alte, similisque est currus inani._

The Driver thrown, the Car as empty flies.
[125]
_Nec scit qua sit iter, nec si sciat, imperet illis._

Nor knows the Way, nor, if he knew, could guide.

And in the fourth Book, after he had described the Interview between _Pyramus_ and _Thisbe_ well enough,

_Ad nomen Thisbes oculos jam morte gravatos
Pyramus erexit_,----

His swimming Eyes he rais'd at _Thisbe_'s Name.

he thus miserably concludes the Verse:

----_visaque recondidit illa._

And having seen her, clos'd them up again.

In another Place,

_Sensit abesse dolos, numerumque accessit ad harum._

All safe she found, and join'd herself to them.

In the seventh Book:

----_agisque
Carminibus grates, & Diis auctoribus horum._

You secret Transports on your Charms bestow,
And on the Gods, the Authors of them, too.

Nothing can be more palpable than the Absurdities I have here produced: In _Ovid_ they are almost unpardonable, who, as he wanted not Genius, must needs have fallen into them thro' gross Inadvertency and Supineness.

There's another Species of Style, called the _Sarcastical_ and _Invective_, suited, as Reason will tell us, more peculiarly to Satire. But we shall no where find a more lively Instance of it than in _Virgil_:

_Cantando Tu illum? aut unquam tibi fistula cera
Juncta fuit? non tu in triviis, indocte, solebas
Stridenti miserum stipula disperdere carmen?_

Thou him in piping! Had'st thou e'er a Pipe
Jointed with Wax?. Wert thou not wont, thou Dolt,
In the Cross-ways, upon a screeching Straw
To murder a vile Tune with viler Notes?

Here, it is plain, the Mordacity lies in the Expression more than the Thought; which is no more than that the Shepherd mention'd was a miserable Piper; but the Words are emphatically cutting, _in triviis, stridenti, miserum, stipula, disperdere_; each of which is arm'd with Poignancy, and dresses out the Image with fresh Ridicule. On the other Hand, sometimes the Invective turns wholly upon the Thought; as in another Verse of _Virgil_:

_Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Mævi._

Who hates not _Bavius_, be he doom'd to love
Thy Metre, _Mævius_!

A keener Satire cannot be conceived; but the Force of it consists in the Sense only; the Words, considered separately, have nothing of that Kind in them. The former, therefore, is the proper Instance of the Invective Style; because in the Style the whole Invective is contained. It may justly be wonder'd that I should fetch Examples of the _Style_ and _Thought_ of Satire, from a Poet endow'd by Nature with the sweetest Disposition, and led by his Subject to a very different Way of Writing: But he had a Genius so adapted to every Thing, that he could write Satire in spite of his own good Nature. These Examples are a sufficient Proof, that if he had turn'd his Thoughts that Way, he would have gain'd the Laurel from all other Competitors; and I must ingenuously confess, that, in my Mind, _Juvenal_ himself has nothing more severe than this _Virgilian_ Acrimony.

The _Florid_ Style is set off with Tropes, Figures, and especially Metaphors. The Use and Abuse of these, I have already spoke of; to avoid Repetition, therefore, I would here only observe, That all Sorts of Poems admit of figurative Expressions, and receive fresh Ornament from them, when the Subject requires them, and Judgment is used in the Choice of them; but that this Style is suitable, in the first Place, to the sublimer Kind of _Ode_, and, in the next, to the _Epic_ Poem.

A Style, likewise, is said to be easy or strong; short or diffuse; clear or obscure; sweet, soft, and fluent; or rough, and unpleasant. The several Properties of these, to what Subject, and to what Poem each is suitable, may be collected from this Dissertation, and the Examples produced; and are partly so self-evident, that all further Explication or Example would be needless. I only observe, in one Word, that a clear Style is never faulty, an obscure and an uncouth one always so; but that the easy or strong, the short or prolix, the loose or close, the brisk or slow, the sweet and soft, or the rough and harsh, are all of them sometimes proper, sometimes improper, according to the Subject Matter of the Poem they appear in. 'Tis farther to be observ'd, That the rough Style, artfully enrich'd with a few antiquated Words, has a certain Majesty in it, which adds a Grandeur to Tragedy especially, and a Sublimity to the Epic Poem: That this Liberty, however, is to be used with Judgment and Caution, lest it appear dull and stiff, instead of lofty and majestic. On the other Hand, that Elegies, particularly, and some sort of Pastorals, require the sweet and flowing Style, and utterly reject all Asperity: Lastly, That some of the Appellations by which Style is distinguish'd are applied to Thought likewise; as _sublime_, _low_, _satirical_, _elegant_, &c. and some of them not so: For a _brisk_ or _slow Thought_, a _concise_ or _prolix Thought_, &c. are Terms which the Schools are yet Strangers to.

Elegance enters into the Composition of every Style that has any Merit in it, pervades every Part, and is, as it were, the Soul to it. What Elegance is, and wherein it consists, has been already shewn, at the Entrance of this Dissertation.

But tho' every Kind of Poem has a Style peculiar to itself, yet we are not to preserve one even Course of Writing from the Beginning to the End, but to rise or fall, to be sweet or rough, to be concise or to expatiate, _&c._ according to the Variety of Matter into which our Subject leads us. _Virgil_, in that Description of Prodigies which I have before cited, sometimes uses the short Diction:

_Vox quoque per lucos vulgo exaudita silentes
Ingens; & simulacra modis pallentia miris
Visa sub obscurum noctis; pecudesque locutæ,
Infandum! sistunt amnes; terræque dehiscunt;
Et mœstum illacrimat templis ebur; æraque sudant._

And oft in silent Woods were Voices more
Than human heard: And Spectres wond'rous pale
Seen in the Dusk of Ev'ning: Oxen spoke,
(Horrid to tell!) Earth yawn'd, and Streams stood still,
In Temples mourning Iv'ry wept; and Brass
Sweated.

But in the next Words, where he is to express a great Inundation, he thus breaks out into an Exuberancy of Style:

_Proluit insano contorquens vortice silvas
Fluviorum Rex Eridanus, camposque per omnes
Cum stabulis armenta tulit._

_Eridanus_, supreme of Rivers,
With roaring Inundation o'er the Plains
Whirl'd Woods away, and Cattle with their Stalls.

It is a great Fault, to be always upon the Sublime: In those Poems, whose Subject leads them to be most so, some Things occur, that ought to be express'd in the plainest Diction, that scarce admit, much less require the lofty or the splendid.

Lastly, 'tis to be observed, that the Style of _Comedy_ is not properly a poetical Style, but an elegant kind of Prose. It would be absurd if it were otherwise; since the Language of Comedy is to imitate familiar Discourse, and such as passes in common Conversation. For this Reason, some (as _Horace_ tells us) have made a Doubt whether this Species of the Drama is to be accounted a Species of Poetry, or not:

_Idcirco quidam, Comœdia, necne, poema
Esset, quæsivere; quod acer spiritus, ac vis,
Nec verbis, nec rebus, inest; nisi quod pede certo
Differt sermoni, sermo merus._

And therefore some do doubt (tho' some allow)
If _Comedy_ be _Poetry_, or no:
Because it wants that Spirit, Flame and Force,
And bate the Numbers, 'tis but plain Discourse.
_Creech._

'Tis Certain the _Style_ of the ancient Comedy had nothing poetical in it but the Feet and Measure, and those very little different from Prose; and rejected all those Modes of Speech, which we have mention'd above as peculiar to Poetry. What, therefore, Comedy has in common with Poetry, does not consist in the Diction, but partly in the Measure, and chiefly in the Invention, the Conduct of the Plot, and the Disposal of the Parts.

I am very sensible a great Question may arise in relation to our Comedies, whether they are to be deem'd Poems, since they want those metrical Numbers, which in our former Dissertation we made essential to a Poem. This Question undoubtedly bears much harder upon our _English_ Comedies, than upon the ancient _Greek_ and _Latin_ ones; which are manifestly writ in some certain Measure, tho' a loose one, and the nearest possible to Prose; but our's pretend to be nothing else but Prose, only with a Distich or two at the Conclusion of every Act. It may be question'd, likewise, on the other Hand, whether the _French_ Poets are to be commended, who write entire Comedies not only in Ryme, but even Heroic Verse. These Doubts I shall at present wave, since a more proper Opportunity will offer to discuss them fully, when I make Comedy the Subject of an entire Dissertation.

As _Style_ is my present Subject, and I shall make _Thought_ my next; it may not be improper to inquire into the Relation between the Beauty of the one and the other, and what Connexion there is between writing well, and thinking justly, and how they mutually conspire to promote each other. This Enquiry is somewhat of a middle Nature between the Subject of our present Discourse and the following; and, like a Partition Wall, may serve to join, and yet divide them.

I lay it down for a Rule, that no one can write clearly, or elegantly, that does not think so. If you are obscure to yourself, you must have great good Luck indeed, if you are perspicuous to others. And if your Thought is bad, shining Language only serves to make both ridiculous. 'Tis like dressing up a disagreeable Person in rich Cloaths, which receive Disgrace from the Wearer, and make his Deformity more contemptible. On the other Hand, 'tis scarce possible, but he whose Thoughts are clear and bright, will be so in his Style too, provided he is well vers'd in the best Authors, and Master of the Language he writes in. When we speak or write, our Thoughts break forth, like the Light, diffuse themselves around, and, by their natural Force, enter the Minds of our Hearers or Readers, as that does the Eyes of the Beholders. Words (if we may believe _Quintilian_) almost necessarily follow a clear Imagination, as the Shadow does a Substance. And if once we have a Conception of any Thing beautiful or sublime, suitable Expressions will arise, if we think proper to make use of them. If we think proper, I say, to make use of them; for it is not to be supposed, that the one will necessarily accompany the other, whether we will let them or not, or that _Quintilian_ meant to extend the _Necessity_ so far. It is possible the Thoughts may be beautiful and sublime, and the Words, out of Choice, plain and simple; and the Plainness of these may sometimes not only shew, but add to the Sublimity of those. To this Purpose _Longinus_ cites that short Narration of the divine Historian, as a remarkable Instance of Sublimity: _And God said, Let there be Light, and there was Light_. So _Horace_:

[134]----_Sapere aude,
Incipe._

Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise. _Cowley._

And _Virgil_:

_Ostendent terris hunc tantum Fata, neque ultra
Esse sinent._

Him the Fates shall shew
To Earth, and only shew him; nor shall there
Permit his longer Stay.

In which, and many other Places, the Words are without Ornament, but the Thought sublime. Thus Beauty sometimes appears the most amiable in its native Charms, and unaffected Neatness: Thus Majesty has been seen to beam forth the strongest when all the Ensigns of it have been laid aside, and it stood supported by its own Strength. Words, then, are to the Thought, what Cloaths are to the Body; what I have to say farther upon this Head, shall be illustrated by this Comparison.

On the other Hand, there are many sublime and beautiful Thoughts that require Words of the same Nature; they appear pitiful without them, and fall short of their proper Dignity. Witness those Instances we have produced from _Ovid_ of the creeping Style, and many more might be produced. Thus frequently, I may say generally, rich Attire, and costly Ornaments, add to the Beauty even of the most beautiful; and Kings who appear by Nature formed for Majesty, display it usually to most Advantage, when deck'd with the Imperial Purple.

But tho' the Thoughts may be beautiful or sublime, while the Words that express them are plain and simple; yet the Rule will not hold inverted: Words can have neither Beauty, nor Sublimity, unless the Thoughts have both. I mean _true_ Beauty, and _true_ Sublimity; because if these are wanting in the Thought, that Sparkling which appears in the Diction, is only a false Light; as fine Cloaths are no longer fine when bestowed upon some dishonest Form; they are far from being an elegant Dress, when they ill become the Wearer. And if the Thought, in this Case, is not sublime, all the Magnificence of Diction is ridiculous Affectation, and mere Bombast. Only one Kind of Poem ought to be excepted; which tho' it has no _Latin_ Name, is well enough known in all the modern Languages of _Europe_: The _Doggrel_ Kind I mean; which abounds much in an ingenious Liberty of Jesting, and dressing up little Things in pompous Words. But in all serious Writing, this Rule holds universally.

But tho' beautiful Expressions cannot make the Thought beautiful, yet they strongly recommend its Beauty, and even improve it; as Dress and Ornament cannot create a Face, yet they may assist its Charms, and add to those that Nature has bestow'd upon it. In Proof of this, I might produce innumerable Examples that are to be met with every where in the Writings of the best Poets. When _Virgil_ had excellently described the broken and shattered Condition of _Sergestus's_ Ship, which we mention'd above, it was undoubtedly a beautiful Thought to compare it working along with one Bank of Oars, to the labour'd Motion of a wounded Serpent. But how does the Poet heighten the Beauty of the Comparison in the following Manner of describing it?

_Qualis sæpe viæ deprensus in aggere serpens,
Ærea quem obliquum rota transiit, aut gravis ictu
Seminecem liquit, saxo lacerumque, viator:
Nequicquam longos fugiens dat corpore tortus;
Parte ferox, ardensque oculis, & sibila colla
Arduus attollens; pars vulnere clauda retentat
Nexantem nodos, seque in sua membra plicantem._

As when a Snake
Is catch'd (as oft it happens) on a Ridge
Of rising Ground; whose Body cross'd aslant
A brazen Wheel has mangled on the Road;
Or some sour Passenger, with heavy Blow,
Has left half dead, and shatter'd with a Stone:
He flying twists his Length in tortuous Wreaths,
Part fierce with ardent Eyes, and hissing Tongue,
Uprears aloft his swelling Neck in Air;
Part damag'd in the Wound retards him crush'd
Wriggling his Spires, and knitting Knots in vain.

_Aristæus_'s Entrance into the subterraneous Grotto's of the Water Nymph _Cyrene_, is thus described by the same Poet:

----_Simul alta jubet discedere late
Flumina, qua juvenis gressus inferret; at illum
Curvata in montis faciem circumstetit unda,
Accepitque sinu vasto, misitque sub amnem.
Jamque domum mirans genitricis, & humida regna,
Speluncisque lacus clausos, lucosque sonantes,
Ibat, & ingenti motu stupefactus aquarum,
Omnia sub magna labentia flumina terra
Spectabat diversa locis_, &c.

At once she bids on either Side retire
The Rivers, that the Youth unhurt might pass:
Him, like a Mountain, arch'd, the standing Waves
Surround; their spacious Bosom open wide,
And spread his Entrance to the hoary Deep.
And now admiring at his Mother's Court,
And liquid Realms, the Lakes in Caverns pent,
And sounding Groves, he goes, and wond'ring hears
The rumbling Billows; nor less wond'ring sees
The various Streams, which subterraneous glide
Thro' the vast Globe.

The Thought, the Fiction, is perfectly beautiful; but who is so blind, as not to see that these poetical Ideas receive no small Embellishment from the Elegance of the Expression; or so dull, as not to love and admire both the Art and Ingenuity of the Writer? We see, then, that the Elegance of Thought is much promoted by that of Diction; and this is true of all Sorts of Thought, as well the beautiful, as the sublime, but more particularly of that which consists of _Comparison_ and _Description_. On the other Hand, that the Elegance and Sublimity of Thought conduces much to the Elegance and Sublimity of Expression, is too clear to need either Proof or Example; Thought being, as it were, the Life of Words, and (as the Schoolmen speak) that which gives them their _essential Form_. Upon the whole, then, beautiful Thoughts and Expressions mutually help and adorn each other, as a goodly Personage and a rich Attire. Wherein consists the Beauty of Thought, shall be the Subject of our next Enquiry.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] Take a remarkable Instance from Mr. _Dryden's Love for Love_, where, from making use of a seeming Metaphor, he is drawn into a false Thought:

_Her Words were like soft Flakes of falling Snow,
Which_ MELTED _as they fell_.

If her Words died away, as Snow _melts_, neutrally, 'tis no great Recommendation of them. But the Idea that should be conveyed to the Reader is, that they _melted_ the Hearer, as they fell; and then the Comparison is spoil'd, and may more truly be applied to the Conception of the Poet, which melts away by the Force of Reason, as Snow does by the Approach of the Sun.

[21] Hor. & Virg. passim.

[22] Æn. I. 323.

[23] Geor. I. 512.

[24] Sat. VIII. 58.

[25] Hor. L. 1. Od. 25.

[26] Lib. 2. Od. 4.

[27] Od. 3.

[28] Lib. 1. Od. 5.

[29] Lib. 2. Od. 2.

[30] Lib. 2. Od. 8.

[31] Lib. 1. Sat. 4. ℣ 62.

[32] Lib. 2. Od. 10.

[33] Geor. I. 45.

[34] Geor. II. 34.

[35] ℣ 540.

[36] Æn. XI. 1.

[37] II. 50.

[38] Eclog. II. 8.

[39] Eclog. I. 83.

[40] Geor. I. 43.

[41] Eclog. VII. 47.

[42] Geor. I. 7.

[43] Geor. II. 108.

[44] Hor. 1. Od. 6.

[45] L. 2. Od. 9

[46] L. 2. Od. 9

[47] Lib. 2. Od. 8.

[48] 'Tis the Business of the Poet to give _Life_, _Motion_, or _Sound_ to almost every Thing he describes, which in Oratory would be ridiculous: Thus, for Example, put into Prose, _Juvenal_'s_----jam tum mihi barba sonabat_, or _Virgil_'s Description of an Oak grafted on an Elm,----Glandemque _sues fregere sub ulmis_; with these lively Images you would gain the Reader's Smile, not his Admiration.

[49] Geor. I. 471.

[50] Æn. IV. 1.

[51] ℣ 65.

[52] ℣ 77.

[53] ℣ 82.

[54] ℣ 462.

[55] VI. 595.

[56] Geor. II. 47.

[57] ℣ 51.

[58] ℣ 332.

[59] Æn. VII. 793.

[60] XII. 283.

[61] Metamorph. I. 292.

[62] II. 521.

[63] ℣ 522.

[64] L. VI. 193.

[65] L. III. 424.

[66] ℣ 463.

[67] Geor. II. 32.

[68] ℣ 69.

[69] Metam. L. VI. 223.

[70] Geor. I. 84.

[71] Geor. II. 73.

[72] Geor. IV. 506

[73] Eclog. III. 45.

[74] Ec. ℣ 82.

[75] Æn. V. 481.

[76] ℣ 169.

[77] ℣ 211.

[78] ℣ 216.

[79] ℣ 270.

[80] Geor. I. 281.

[81] Æn. IV. 361.

[82] ℣ 486.

[83] ℣ 498.

[84] ℣ 505.

[85] ℣ 115.

[86] Geor. IV. 493.

[87] L. III. 539.

[88] Æn. I. 55.

[89] Æn. VII. 25.

[90] Metam. II. 112.

[91] Geor. III. 494.

[92] ℣ 520.

[93] Psal. cxxxvii.

[94] Metam. I. 468.

[95] L. II. 9, 10.

[96] ℣ 122.

[97] ℣ 229.

[98] What can be said for them, see in Mr. _Pope_'s Preface to the _Iliad_.

[99] ℣ 273.

[100] Æn. III. 658.

[101] L. VIII. 621, 622.

[102] VIII. 364.

[103] IX. 205.

[104] VIII. 729.

[105] Æn. II. 298.

[106] Art. Poet. ℣ 93.

[107] _Æn._ II. 601.

[108] ℣ 608.

[109] ℣ 620.

[110] XII. 697.

[111] L. III. Od. 3.

[112] De Tertio Consulat. Honorii.

[113] In Probin. & Olybr. Consulat.

[114] De rapt. Pros. L. I.

[115] In Eutrop. L. II.

[116] Equus Max. Domit.

[117] L. I. Od. 3.

[118] Od. 7.

[119] Hor. Serm. I. L. 1.

[120] Epist. I. L. 1.

[121] Am. L. I. Eleg. 1.

[122] Met. L. I. 204.

[123] Mr. _Addison_, not far from this Place, sinks in his Translation too much in the same Manner:

Mean while, the restless Horses neigh'd aloud,
Breathing out Fire, and _pawing where they stood_.

[124] L. II. 167.

[125] ℣ 171.

[126] L. IV. 144.

[127] L. II. 447.

[128] L. VII. 148.

[129] Eclog. III. 25.

[130] ℣ 90.

[131] Geor. I. 476.

[132] ℣ 481.

[133] Lib. I. Sat. IV. 45.

[134] Lib. I. Ep. II. ℣ 40.

[135] Æn. VI. 869.

[136] Æn. V. 273.

[137] Geor. IV. 359.

LECTURE VIII, IX, X, XI.
_Of the Beauty of Thought in Poetry; or of_
_Elegance and Sublimity._

In our former Dissertation we treated of the Style of Poetry: From _Words_ we pass on to _Things_, and propose to speak of the Beauty of Thought; to shew wherein the Elegance and Sublimity of it consists; the Reason and Foundation of it; and to enumerate its different Species.

Every one must be sensible, as well as myself, what a difficult Subject I engage in. If therefore I sometimes err, in so abstruse a Path, I trust I have a prevailing Plea for your Pardon.

In the preceding Dissertation we have abundantly shewn, that the _Diction_ of Poetry is very different from that of Prose; but between the _Thought_ of the one and the other (excepting only Fiction) the Difference is not so great. What, therefore, I shall say upon this Head, will, for the most part, be in common both to the Poet and the Orator; for the Beauty of Thought is generally the same, whether it is express'd in Verse or Prose. But because Poetry is our Province, I judged it proper to produce the Examples that illustrate my Subject, from the Writings of the best Poets.

Writers have taken much Pains to give us a complete Definition of _Thought_; and some have openly declar'd, that it is not capable of a Definition. Among these, our Countryman _Cowley_ bears the first Place, who directly asserts, that _Wit_ (for that is the Word we often use for those Expressions that are the Effect of it) can only be defin'd in negative Terms. But (with the Leave of the Learned) this Word, and the Idea affix'd to it, is as capable of a positive and adequate a Definition, as many others which we define the most logically, and boast of having the clearest Notion of. _Wit_, then, in the largest Sense of the Word, seems to be nothing else, but _a Thought formed so agreeably to Nature and right Reason, and impressed upon the Mind with such Clearness, Vivacity, and Dignity, as excites Pleasure or Admiration_.

_Wit_ we take, as we said, in _its largest Extent_. For it is not here understood in that vulgar and narrow Sense by which it denotes only Jokes and pointed Turns; but contains every Conception of the Mind that is beautiful; whatever Elegance or Sublimity the Imagination is capable of.

_A Thought formed agreeably to Nature and right Reason_, is, in this Definition, the _Genus_; what follows contains the _Difference_. By the former Part of the Definition we understand a _Thought that is founded upon solid and just Principles_, which is twofold, either a Thought _simply_ consider'd, or a _beautiful_ Thought. Every ingenious Thought, then, is well founded, but every Thought that is well founded, is not an ingenious one.

It was necessary to make this the _Genus_ of the _Definition_, that true Wit might be distinguish'd from false. Thoughts of real Beauty are always form'd upon Truth, Nature, and right Reason. If they are not built upon this Foundation, or flow from a less noble Spring, they are to be rank'd among those _false Brillants_, as they are term'd by our modern, and especially the _French_, Writers, which may serve to please Boys, and some others of as little Judgment, but will always be despis'd by Men of Taste, and of Understanding, who adhere to the infallible Maxim laid down by _Horace_:

_Scribendi recte_ sapere _est & principium & fons._

Sound Judgment is the Ground of writing well.
_Roscom._

Thoughts are the Images of Things, as Words are of Thoughts; and we all know that Images and Pictures are only so far true, as they are true Representations of Men and Things. Those Passages in _Virgil_, _Terræque, urbesque recedunt_, and the like, where Things are represented not as they _are_, but as they _seem_ to be, are no Objection to what I advance. For Poets, as well as Painters, think it their Business to take the Likeness of Things from their Appearance. When they do this, their Thoughts are just, according to the strictest Rules of Reason; for in Description or Painting that is _truly_ express'd, which is express'd as the Thing _appears_ to be. Neither _Metaphors_, _Hyperboles_, _Ironies_, nor even _equivocal_ Expressions, when properly used, nor _Fiction_ or _Fable_, are any Deviation from this Rule of right Thinking: For there is a wide Difference between _Falseness_ and _Fiction_, between that which is _truly_ false, (if I may so speak) and that which is only so in Appearance. Tropes and Fictions are raised, as it were, upon the Foundation of right Reason. Truth is the Basis of them, and receives new Lustre from such airy Disguises. All this will be sufficiently plain in the Sequel of this Dissertation, and from the Examples to be produced in it. But, in the first Place, it may not be improper to give one or two Instances of false Wit; that so we may settle the Difference between what is true, and counterfeit.

We frequently meet with Passages that want even common Sense, and yet have somewhat of a ridiculous Brightness in them. A certain Poet gives us a miserable Description of the Fate of _Pyramus_ and _Thisbe_, and tells us, that the Sword, when died with the _Blood_ of the unhappy Lover, blush'd, from a Consciousness of its Crime. No,[139] rather let the unhappy Writer blush, from a deep Sense of that Elegance which Boys would be asham'd to own. Another of the same Form, I know not his Name, tells us, that Lovers always abound with Wit, because _Venus_ sprung from the _salt_ Ocean. It would be endless to mention all the Turns of this sort, which take their Rise from the feign'd Names or Adjuncts of the Heathen Deities.

Modern Writers, all over _Europe_, are many of them wonderfully fond of these sort of Trifles, especially in their Epigrams and Love-Verses. And some cannot refrain from them even in their larger Compositions. Several of our Top Poets of the former Age, (for in the present these kind of Witticisms are in less Request) abound much with these shining Spots: Nor are the Ancients, (I instance in _Ovid_) wholly free from them. I can't help here observing, what an inexhaustible Fund of Conceits our modern Poets are supplied with from the Eyes of the Fair Sex; which, as they are the fruitful Parents of various Mischiefs, so are they, likewise, it seems, of spurious Wit.

There is another Species of Thought which does not, like the former, deviate from Truth and right Reason, yet is a Violation of the Laws of Beauty and Accuracy, and is an Instance of false Wit, tho' not of false Conception. In the _Troas_ of _Seneca_, _Hecuba_ lamenting that the Body of _Priamus_ should lie unburied, thus expresses her Grief:

----_Ille, tot regum parens,
Caret sepulchro Priamus, & flamma indiget,
Ardente Troja._----[140]

_Priam_, the Father of a Race of Kings,
Now wants a Grave, nor finds a
Fun'ral Fire, While his own City burns.

How poor a Thought, upon so great and sublime a Subject? How childish a Reflection, that while _Troy_ was all in Flames, the Body of _Priamus_ should want Funeral ones? How much better does _Virgil_ describe the very same Circumstance?

_Hæc finis Priami fatorum, hic exitus illum
Sorte tulit; Trojam incensam & prolapsa videntem
Pergama; tot quondam populis, terrisque, superbum
Regnatorem Asiæ: jacet ingens littore truncus,
Avulsumque humeris caput, & sine nomine corpus._

Such was the End of _Priam_'s Fate; the last
Concluding Scene which Destiny decreed
To _Asia_'s Lord; once o'er so many Realms
And Nations, sov'reign Monarch; having seen
His _Troy_ in Flames, and tumbling to the Ground:
Upon the Shore the Royal Body lies
Expos'd; the Head from off the Shoulders torn;
A Trunk dishonour'd, and without a Name.

Here every Thing is great, full of Majesty, and suitable to the Subject. The Poet knew better than to sport with Conceits upon so solemn an Occasion; tho' _Ovid_ is perpetually hunting after them: But this is never _Virgil_'s Fault; and ought to have been as studiously avoided by _Seneca_: For Tragedy is of as sublime a Nature as Epic.

That celebrated Passage of _Lucan_, at first Appearance, I confess, sounds great:

----_Cœlo tegitur, qui non habet urnam._

The Heav'ns entomb the Man that wants an Urn.

The Assertion is true, but the Wit is _false_. It is applied to the Soldiers that died in the Field, and lay unburied: And tho' we should grant that the Heavens and the Stars were Materials of greater Value than Brass and Marble; yet they are a kind of Monument, that, like Death itself, is common to all; and, in spite of this _Stoical_ Maxim of the Poet, all Mankind must think it more honourable to be laid at Rest in a Grave, than expos'd to Birds and Beasts, who at last may boast of the same Canopy of the Sky, that these unburied Heroes enjoy'd.

Sometimes it happens, that there is a Mixture of true Thought and false; or the Conception is partly one, partly the other. Thus in that noted Epigram by a Modern:

_Lumine Acon dextro, capta est Leonilla sinistro;
Et potis est forma vincere uterque Deos.
Blande Puer, lumen quod habes concede sorori;
Sic Tu cæcus Amor, sic erit Illa Venus._

_Strephon_ and _Phyllis_ each one Eye have lost,
Yet may of Beauty more than Mortal boast.
Let his bright Orb to her the Boy resign,
He would a _Cupid_, she a _Venus_ shine.

The Epigram _seems_ elegant, and _is_ really so; but the different Parts of it are not perfectly reconcileable. For if _Strephon_ and _Phyllis_ exceeded the Gods in Beauty, what great Wonder is it, he should become _Cupid_, she _Venus_? Besides, 'tis absurd to suppose that he should be either willing, or able to transfer his Eye to his Sister. There is, however, in these Lines a true epigrammatic Spirit; and nothing can have more of it than the last of them. For as in Reasoning a true Conclusion may be drawn from false Premises; so in Writing an elegant Thought may flow from false Wit. I would not have it objected, that I here draw a Comparison between Things that are no way allied; for all Beauty, not only in the argumentative Way of Writing, but even in polite Literature, depends upon the Rules of Logic, and strict Reasoning.

The Passages I have here produced are a few Instances of false Eloquence. Wit, therefore, differs from a plain solid Thought, as a polish'd Diamond from a rough one; and as that does not cease to be a Diamond by being polish'd, so a Thought loses nothing of its Solidity by its Elegance. We all know, that a Diamond is not less distinguish'd from other Stones by its Solidity, than its Lustre: The Difference, therefore, between true and false Wit, is much the same as between the Gems of the East, and those of our _British_ Rocks.

Some Verses I have known (but not by what Means) that owe all their Success to popular Applause, and ill-grounded Fame, instead of Merit. No one can be a Stranger to the celebrated Epigram of _Sanazarius_ upon the City of _Venice_; and who shall now dare to question its Title to Fame, after so long a Prescription?

_Viderat Adriacis Venetam Neptunus in undis
Stare Urbem, & toti ponere jura mari.
Nunc mihi Tarpeias quantumvis, Jupiter, arces
Objice; & illa tui mœnia Martis, ait:
Si pelago Tyberim præfers, Urbem aspice utramque;
Illam homines dices, hanc posuisse Deos._

In th'_Adriatic_ Gulf, when _Neptune_ saw
_Venice_ arise, and give to Seas the Law;
Now, _Jove_, said he, _Tarpeian_ Tow'rs oppose,
And the proud Walls of _Mars_ compare with those.
The _Tyber_ to the Sea prefer! and then
One own the Work of Gods, and one of Men.

I submit with humble Deference to the Judgment of the Learned; but, if I may freely speak my Sentiments, I have often wonder'd at the good Fortune of _Sanazarius_, who, by six empty Verses, got not only so great a Name, but (which is more substantial) so great a Sum of Money. The Verses, indeed, are smooth and harmonious; they have the outward Appearance of an Epigram, and contain a poetical Fiction of _Jupiter_ and _Neptune_: But take away these (and these, without somewhat else, signify little) what else, in the Name of Elegance, does the Poet tell us, but that _Venice_ is preferable to _Rome_? In naked and simple Terms he says, that the former looks more like the Work of the Gods, than the latter. Where is the _Acumen_, the Wit, or the Turn? The Shell, indeed, of an Epigram, we see; but not so much as the Shadow of Wit.

The first, and principal Species of Wit, is, undoubtedly, that which does not depend on poetical Fiction, but upon Truth itself. What the _French_ Poet[144] says upon this Head, in the Preface to his Works, is very just; and I think I cannot do better than give you his Sentiments in an _English_ Dress. "Now, if any Man asks me, says he, what this Agreeableness and this Salt is? I answer, That it is a _Je ne sçay quoy_, that may be better conceiv'd than describ'd. But yet, in my Opinion, it principally consists in offering nothing to the Reader but true Thoughts, and just Expressions. The Mind of Man is naturally full of an infinite Number of confus'd Ideas of _Truth_, which he often-times perceives but by Halves; and nothing pleases him more, than when any of these Ideas are presented to him well illustrated, and set in a good Light. What is a new brillant, extraordinary Thought? It is not, as the Ignorant persuade themselves, a Thought which no Body ever had, nor ought to have. But, on the contrary, a Thought which every Body ought to have had, and which some one bethinks himself of expressing first. _Wit_ is not _Wit_, but as it says something every Body thought of, and that in a lively, delicate, and new Manner. Let us consider, for Example, the famous Reply of _Lewis_ XII. to some of his Ministers, who advised him to punish several Persons that in the former Reign (when he was only Duke of _Orleans_) had made it their Business to prejudice him, _A King of_ France, _says he, revenges not the Injuries done to a Duke of_ Orleans. How comes this Saying to strike us so suddenly? Is it not plainly, because it presents to our Eyes a Truth which all the World is sensible of, and which expresses better than all the finest Discourses of Morality, _That a great Prince, after his Accession to the Throne, ought no longer to act by private Movements, nor to have any other View but the Glory and general Good of his Kingdom?_" Thus far that celebrated Author, who seems very happily to have illustrated the Subject we are upon.

We have many elegant Thoughts, likewise, founded upon Truth, with a Mixture of poetical Fiction; as in that Epigram of _Martial_ address'd to _Lucifer_, the Night before _Cæsar_'s Return to _Rome_: After the first Invocation,

_Phosphore, redde diem; quid gaudia nostra moraris?
Cæsare venturo, Phosphore, redde diem._

Thou bright Forerunner of the golden Day,
When _Cæsar_ comes, what clogs thy rosy Way?

At some Distance he adds:

_Quid cupidum Titana tenes? jam Xanthus & Æthon
Fræna volunt; vigilat Memnonis alma Parens._

Why hold'st thou _Phœbus_, lab'ring to be freed? }
His fiery Coursers arm themselves for Speed, }
And fair _Aurora_ quits her dewy Bed. }

He then subjoins:

_Tarda tamen nitidæ non cedunt sidera luci;
Et cupit Ausonium Luna videre Ducem._

But scarce the lagging Stars desert the Skies,
And pensive _Cynthia_ for the Triumph sighs.

'Tis an undoubted Truth, that Time seems long to those that are big with Expectation. The Poet, therefore, having, for this Reason, chid the Tardiness of the Moon and Stars, nothing could be more elegant, than from this very Circumstance to take a further Occasion of complimenting the Prince, by finding out another Reason of their Delay; _viz._ that those bright Attendants (for the Poet suppos'd them endow'd with Sense) stay'd the longer, that they might be the happy Spectators of _Cæsar_'s triumphal Entry. He then gives a new Turn to his Reflections, and thus concludes the Epigram:

_Jam, Cæsar, vel nocte veni; stent astra licebit,
Non deerit populo, Te veniente, dies._

Yet let not _Cæsar_ wait the rising Morn,
Or damp our Blessings till the Day's Return:
His Light shall cheer us with as bright a Ray,
And without _Phœbus_ usher in the Day.

This is ingenious enough, but a little of the boldest. The Prince of Lyric Poets is more modest upon the same Occasion: