Chapter VI: Part 6

Tho' the greatest Part of modern Wit turns entirely on this playing upon Words, I don't mean in Conversation only, (where these Trifles are hardly, very hardly tolerable) but even in the severest Writings, yet every Man of common Sense is so convinced of the Absurdity of prostituting it to the Abuse of Words, that I shall dwell no longer upon so disagreeable, so contemptible a Subject. I would only observe, that the Ancients are but little guilty of this Fault: That of _Terence_[204], _Inceptio est amentium, haud amantium_; and of _Cicero_, cited by _Juvenal_,

_O fortunatam, natam, me consule, Romam._

Fortune fortun'd the happy Day of _Rome_,
When thou a Consul sole consol'd her Doom.
_Dryden._

and some others, tho' they consist of a Gingle, which I could wish such excellent Writers had wholly abstain'd from, yet they are not _equivocal_ Expressions, nor do they contain a double Sense. _Ovid_'s

_Injustaque justa peregit_,

And solemniz'd the Death himself had wrought.
_Addison._

I know not how to find an Excuse for. And it must be own'd, that _Plautus_ often runs into these Puerilities; for which Reason, it is probable, he falls under the Censure of _Horace_:

_At proavi nostri Plautinos & numeros &
Laudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque,
(Ne dicam stulte) mirati._

'Tis true, as I have heard, the former Times
Clapt _Plautus' Jokes_, and his uneven Rhimes.
_Creech._

And it can't be denied but _Terence_, and some of the best Writers, have some little Touches of this Epidemical Distemper. There are few of these Conceits but are _merely equivocal_, that is, vary as little in the Thought, as in the Expression; a sort of Collision, from whence, 'tis possible, some Sparks of Wit may sometimes, but very rarely, be struck out. Thus much I thought proper to lay before you, in Relation to the _Elegance_ of _Thought_ in Poetry, both true and false.

I have little Occasion to enlarge distinctly upon the _Sublime_, because many Things relating to it fell in with what I have before advanced. However, as this was one of the Topics I propos'd to treat of, it is necessary I should say somewhat to it, before I conclude this Dissertation. I cannot better explain to you the Nature of the _Sublime_, and the Manner of its affecting us, than by giving you the Sense of _Longinus_[208] upon it, not in a literal Version, but by representing the Substance of him in a few Words. Whence is it that Writers of this Class, in a divine Impetuosity seem regardless of Accuracy, and scorn to be confin'd within the vulgar Rules of Exactness? The Truth is, Nature has form'd Man of an inquisitive Genius, and plac'd him in the World to behold and admire the Wonders of it; not as an idle Spectator, but as one concern'd in its busiest Scenes, eager for Action, and panting after Glory. To this End, he is strongly actuated by a Love and Desire of every Thing that is great and divine. The vast Expanse of the Universe cannot bound his Imagination; he extends his Thoughts into other Worlds, and is lost only in Infinity.

----_Vivida vis animi pervincit, & extra
Procedit longe flammantia mœnia mundi._

His vigorous and active Mind is hurl'd
Beyond the seeming Limits of the World.
_Creech._

And, in Truth, if we contemplate a Hero, whose Life is one continu'd Series of great Actions, we then may make some Estimate of what we were born to. Hence, then, it is, that Fountains and Rivulets, which answer all the common Conveniencies of Life, never in a great Degree awaken our Attention. But when we view the _Rhine_, the _Nile_, the _Danube_, but, above all, the Ocean, we stand fix'd at once with Awe and Wonder. So again, without any Emotion, we behold the daily Fires, of our own making, how long soever they continue burning: But we gaze with Astonishment at any sudden Light in the Heavens, tho' it vanishes, perhaps, as soon as it appears. Nor is there any Thing more wonderful in Nature than the Eruptions of Mount _Ætna_, which sometimes discharges from its Caverns Stones, and Deluges of Fire:

----_Horrificis juxta tonat Ætna ruinis:
Interdumque atram prorumpit ad æthera nubem,
Turbine fumantem piceo, & candente favilla,
Attollitque globos flammarum, & sidera lambit.
Interdum scopulos, avulsaque viscera montis,
Erigit eructans, liquefactaque saxa sub auras
Cum gemitu glomerat, fundoque exæstuat imo._

But _Ætna_ thunders nigh
In dreadful Ruins. With a Whirlwind's Force
Sometimes it throws to Heav'n a pitchy Cloud,
Redden'd with Cinders, and involv'd in Smoke;
And tosses Balls of Flame, and licks the Stars.
Sometimes with loud Explosion high it hurls
Vast Rocks, and Entrails from the Mountain torn,
With roaring Noise slings molten Stones in Air,
And boils, and bellows, from its lowest Caves.

Upon the whole, we may draw this Conclusion, that Things of common Use or Necessity, lose all their Wonder, by their Frequency; but whatever is unusual, and beyond the Course of Nature, strikes our Attention, and calls forth our Admiration.

I before observ'd, and therefore need not insist upon it farther here, that the opposite to _Sublime_ is _Bombast_ and _Fustian_. I observ'd likewise, that the _Sublime_ was not incompatible with the _plain_ Style, tho' chiefly adapted to the _Heroic_, and produc'd Examples of both; for what I said in Relation to Style, I told you, in the Beginning of this Dissertation, was _sometimes_ applicable to Thought. I would now add, that 'tis a great Mistake to think that the _Sublime_ is only, or chiefly suited to Joy, Triumphs, and pompous Descriptions; for nothing has more of that Quality than those Ideas that command _Pity_ and _Terror_. I shall produce one, but a very remarkable Instance of each, taken almost from the same Place. _Turnus_, when his Forces were defeated, and his own Death approaching, dissuades his Sister _Juturna_ from any farther fruitless Offices of her Love, in this Heroical Complaint:

[211]----_Sed quis olympo.
Demissam tantos voluit te ferre labores?
An fratris miseri letum ut crudele videres?
Nam quid ago? aut quæ nunc spondet fortuna salutem?
Vidi oculos ante ipse meos me voce vocantem
Murranum, quo non superat mihi charior alter,
Oppetere ingentem, atque ingenti vulnere victum.
Occidit infelix, ne nostrum dedecus Ufens
Aspiceret: Teucri potiuntur corpore, & armis.
Exscindine domos (id rebus defuit unum)
Perpetiar? dextra nec Drancis dicta refellam?
Terga dabo? & Turnum fugientem hæc terra videbit?
Usque adeone mori miserum est? Vos ô mihi, Manes,
Este boni; quoniam Superis aversa voluntas.
Sancta ad vos anima, atque istius inscia culpæ
Descendam, magnorum haud unquam indignus avorum._
But who sent you down
Dispatch'd from Heav'n, and will'd you to endure
Such Labours? Was it that you might behold
Your most unhappy Brother's cruel Death?
For now what Measures can I take? What Hope
Of new Success can any Fortune shew?
Before these Eyes myself _Murranus_ saw
(Than whom to me no dearer Name survives)
Calling on me for Help, I saw him fall
Mighty, and with a mighty Wound subdu'd.
There _Ufens_ fell, unfortunate, nor liv'd
To see our Shame: The _Trojan_ Victors keep
The full Possession of his Corps and Arms.
Shall I endure (that only now remains)
The City to be raz'd? Nor with my Sword
Refel the Taunts of _Drances_? Shall I shew
My Back? And shall this Earth see _Turnus_ fly?
Is Death so terrible? Ye Gods of Hell,
Be kind; since those of Heav'n abhor my Pray'r.
To you a guiltless Ghost I will descend,
Unsully'd with this Stain, nor ever prov'd
Unworthy of my great Forefather's Fame.

It is impossible not to be wrapt into an Extasy, as it were, of Pity and Wonder, to behold so majestic Sorrow, and such exalted Misery. Nor less sublime is that Terror, with which the Fury possesses the Breast of the same unhappy Hero, when she is sent by _Jupiter_ to carry the fatal Omen:

_Postquam acies videt Iliacas, atque agmina Turni,
Alitis in parvæ subito collecta figuram,
Quæ quondam in bustis, aut culminibus desertis,
Nocte sedens, serum canit importuna per umbras;
Hanc versa in faciem Turni se Pestis ad ora
Fertque, refertque sonans, clypeumque everberat alis._
Soon as the _Trojan_ Troops, and _Turnus_' Bands
She sees; she changes, lessen'd, to the Shape
Of a small Bird, which sitting on the Tops
Of Tombs, and old deserted Tow'rs, by Night,
Shrieks thro' the Shades, ill-omen'd: Thus transform'd
The Fiend o'er _Turnus_' Visage, screaming, flies
This Way, and that; and flaps upon his Shield
With flutt'ring Pinions.

I appeal to every Reader, whether at these Lines his Blood does not run cold within him, whether he does not feel the same dismal Effects that _Turnus_ did:

_Illi membra novus solvit formidine torpor;
Arrectæque horrore comæ, & vox faucibus hæsit._

Him unusual Fear
Stiff'ning benumbs; uprose his Hair erect,
And to his Mouth his Speech with Horror cleav'd.

When I first engag'd in this new Province, I thought to have treated largely, and in a set Dissertation, on _poetic Licence_. But I now think that Design superfluous, having spoke so largely of it, when I treated of the _Diction_ and _Thought_ of Poetry, and of the _Elegance_ and _Sublimity_ of each. I then observ'd, that tho' Poets have a Method of Writing peculiar to themselves, and are allow'd many Liberties in it, from which other Writers are debarr'd; yet that they are indulg'd in nothing but what is built upon the Foundation of Truth, and solid Reason: Agreeably to that of _Horace_,

[214]----_Pictoribus, atque Poetis,
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas.
Scimus, & hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim:
Sed non ut placidis cocant immitia, non ut
Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni._

Painters and Poets have been still allow'd
Their Pencils and their Fancies unconfin'd.
This Privilege we freely give and take:
But Nature, and the common Laws of Sense,
Forbid to reconcile Antipathies,
Or make a Snake engender with a Dove,
And hungry Tygers court the tender Lambs.
_Roscom._

Nothing now remains, but to entreat you Gentlemen, that make up my Audience, candidly to accept these mean Attempts of mine upon so _difficult_ a Subject.

FOOTNOTES:

[138] Art. Poet. ℣ 309.

[139] See the Preface to Monsieur _Boileau_'s Works.

[140] Act 1. Sc. 1.

[141] Æn. II. 554.

[142] Lib. VII.

[143] Anthol. Poem. Ital.

[144] _Boileau_.

[145] Lib. VIII. Epig. 21.

[146] Lib. IV. Od. 5.

[147] Lib. XI. Epig. 92.

[148] Περι ὑψους, ℣ 43.

[149] Virg. Eclog. II. ℣ 46.

[150] ℣ 54.

[151] Περι ὑψους, ℣ 8.

[152] Geor. II. 475.

[153] Περι ὑψους, ℣ 8.

[154] ℣ 45.

[155] ℣ 77.

[156] ℣ 98.

[157] Ovid. Epist. II. ℣ 49.

[158] Met. L. VII. ℣ 9.

[159] ℣ 9.

[160] ℣ 20.

[161] ℣ 25.

[162] ℣ 305.

[163] ℣ 362.

[164] ℣ 412.

[165] ℣ 419.

[166] ℣ 373.

[167] ℣ 425.

[168] ℣ 380.

[169] ℣ 492.

[170] Περι ὑψους, § 15.

[171] Ibid.

[172] Ibid.

[173] Æn. IV. 469.

[174] ℣ 465.

[175] Il. VI. 466.

[176] See his Note on the Place, ℣ 595.

[177] Æn. VIII. 630.

[178] ℣ 8.

[179] L. IV. ℣ 93.

[180] Met. L. III. ℣ 654.

[181] Æn. L. IV. ℣ 663.

[182] ℣ 456.

[183] Lib. II. Epig. 58.

[184] P. 56.

[185] ℣ 407.

[186] Sat. III. 236.

[187] Sat. X. 218.

[188] ℣ 387.

[189] See, more especially, Mr. _Waller_'s Poems.

[190] Περι ὑψους, § 32.

[191] Ovid. Ep. IV. 1.

[192] Metam. IX. 529.

[193] Ep. XIX. 97.

[194] Lib. II. Epist. 1.

[195] Æn. XII. 435.

[196] Lib. XI. ℣ 419.

[197] Geor. IV. 488.

[198] ℣ 354.

[199] ℣ 47.

[200] Ovid. Ep. XV. 39.

[201] Lib. de Spect. Epig. 3.

[202] Ep. III. 7.

[203] Lib. VIII. Epig. 19.

[204] Andr. I. 3.

[205] Sat. X. 122.

[206] Metam. L. II. ℣ 627.

[207] De Art. Poet ℣ 270.

[208] Περι ὑψους, § 35.

[209] Lucret. Lib. I. ℣ 73.

[210] Æn. III. 571.

[211] Æn. XII. 634.

[212] ℣ 861.

[213] ℣ 867.

[214] De Art. Poet. ℣ 9.

LECTURE XII.
_Of Epigram, and other lighter Species of Poetry._

Designing to treat of the several Species of Poetry, I thought proper to begin with the lowest, and so gradually proceed to others of a higher Kind, till at last I come to the Epic or Heroic Poem.

Epigram shall be the chief Subject of this Discourse. But as there are other small Poems, which will scarce deserve a distinct one, I shall here make such Observations upon them as may be necessary.

The Account we have of Epigram, both of the Name and Thing, is this: It was usual, it seems, among the Ancients, to cut short Inscriptions under the Statues of their Gods, which they call'd επιγραφαι, and επιγραμματα. These Inscriptions serv'd as _Lemmata_, or Subjects for little poetical Conceits, which were afterwards themselves term'd Epigrams. That upon the Statue of _Venus_ made by _Praxiteles_, is well known.

Γυμνην οιδε Παρις με, και Αγκισης, και Αδονις.
Τους τρεις οιδα μονους, Πραξιτελες δε ποθεν?

And what, said she, does this bold Painter mean?
When was I bathing thus, and naked seen?
_Prior._

In Course of Time, other Poems of like Nature, whatever their Subject was, went by the Name of Epigrams, on account of their Affinity with those to which that Title was first appropriated. Epigrams are divided into various Heads; the greater, the less, the equal[215], the simple, the compound, the digressive, _&c._ But so minute a Distinction is needless, since they may be made upon any Subject. Some are satirical, as that of _Martial_,

_Quem recitas meus est, O Fidentine, Libellus;
Sed male cum recitas, incipit esse tuus._

'Tis true, in Print I own my humble Muse;
But when the Laureat shall my Lines traduce,
_Tartuffe_ in _England_ justly I disown;
_The Food was mine, the Excrement's his own._

and in another Place:

_Quid Te, Tucca, juvat vetulo miscere Falerno
In Vaticanis condita musta cadis?
Quid tantum fecere boni tibi pessima vina?
Aut quid fecerunt optima vina mali?
De nobis facile est; scelus est jugulare Falernum,
Et dare Campano toxica sæva mero.
Convivæ meruere tui fortasse perire;
Amphora non meruit tam pretiosa mori._

What mean'st thou, _Tucca_, with Tocay to join
The vapid Refuse of dull Rhenish Wine?
Do you the cordial Juice such Treach'ry owe,
Prepost'rous Charity the Cut-throat show?
To spoil Tocay, however fare your Guest,
Is Murder, without Benefit of Priest.
Poison allow the Merit of your Friend;
But the poor Cask deserv'd a better End.

This, I should think, is the best kind of Epigram; for if the Nature of it in general consists in being acute, whatever is satirical, must always be so. Not but that there are other proper Subjects of it. Some panegyrical, directly contrary to the former; many of which we have in _Martial_ upon the Emperor _Domitian_, and in others. That of _Virgil_ is famous.

_Nocte pluit tota, redeunt spectacula mane;
Divisum imperium cum Jove Cæsar habet._

The Show'rs brought on the Night, the Shews the Day:
Thus _Jove_ and _Cæsar_ bear an equal Sway.

And the Inscription by a Modern design'd for the Palace of the late King of _France_:

_Non orbis gentem, non urbem gens habet ullam,
Urbsve domum, dominum nec domus ulla, parem._

The world no Realm, no Realm a City sees,
No City House, no House a Lord like this.

In which, tho' there is not that witty Turn which is usually reckon'd essential to Epigram; yet the Climax is so finely work'd up, that it well deserves the great Praises that have been given it. There are other Epigrams of the Love Kind; as the following one in the Anthology of _Italian_ Poets:

_Me lætis Leonilla oculis, me Lydia torvis
Aspicit; hæc noctem nuntiat, illa diem.
Has Cytherea meo stellas præfecit amori;
Hæc meus est Vesper, Lucifer illa meus._

One with a sleepy, one a smirking Ray,
_Fusca_ the Night foretels, _Lucy_ the Day.
_Venus_ ordain'd, that each by Turns shou'd move,
The Morning, and the Ev'ning Star of Love.

Here, indeed, we have the true _Form_ and _Shape_ of an Epigram, it has all the _Appearance_ of Wit and Elegance; but I fear it offends against right Reason and Nature. Some there are, upon various Circumstances or Events, which are scarce reducible to any Class. As this of _Martial_, upon the City _Ravenna_, where there is a great Scarcity of Water:

_Callidus imposuit nuper mihi caupo Ravennæ;
Cum peterem mixtum, vendidit ille merum._

By a _Ravenna_ Vintner once betray'd,
So much for Wine and Water mixt I paid.
But when I thought the purchas'd Liquor mine,
The Rascal fob'd me off with only Wine.
_Addison._

And upon the Boy whose Throat was cut with an Icicle.

_Quid non sæva sibi voluit Fortuna licere?
Aut ubi mors non est, si jugulatis, aquæ?_

What various Deaths are we decreed to feel,
If Waters poignard like the stubborn Steel?[220]

And this _Greek_ Epigram:

Χρυσον ανηρ ἑυρων ελιπε βροχον, αυταρ ὁ χρυσον
Ον λιπεν ουχ ἑυρων, ἡψευ ον ἑυρε βροχον.

The Noose just tying, _Cotta_ found a Purse, }
The Rope serv'd _Strephon_, who, by Fate's Reverse, }
Had lost the Gold,--_to one a Blessing, one a Curse_. }

Here, again, the true Spirit of Epigram seems wanting; we have no Point of Wit, but only a plain Narration of Fact. But still, the Words are so elegantly opposed to each other, and in so short a Compass, that we shall scarce meet with any Thing which exceeds it. While I am speaking of the different Subjects of Epigram, I would observe, that Religion is sometimes one. And as nothing is so suitable to Poetry as the _Marvellous_, nothing can afford more Matter for it than the _Christian_ Religion, which so much abounds with Miracles. I shall shew, perhaps, hereafter, how well adapted it is for Poems of the highest Kind, when I come to speak of _sacred Poetry_; but how proper a Subject it is for Epigram, is self-evident. For tho' these sort of Verses are often ludicrous, and trifling; yet they sometimes breathe a Spirit of Sublimity, every way becoming them. There are many of _Martial_ of this Kind. That, for Instance, to the Emperor _Domitian_, upon his erecting to himself a triumphal Arch, and a Temple to Fortune:

_Hic, ubi Fortunæ Reducis fulgentia late
Templa nitent, felix area nuper erat.
Hic stetit, Arctoi formosus pulvere belli,
Purpureum fundens Cæsar ab ore jubar.
Hic lauro redimita comas, & candida cultu,
Roma salutavit voce, manuque, ducem.
Grande loci meritum testantur & altera dona;
Stat sacer, edomitis gentibus, arcus ovans.
Hic gemini currus numerant elephanta frequentem;
Sufficit immensis aureas ipse jugis.
Hæc est digna tuis, Germanice, porta triumphis;
Hos aditus urbem Martis habere decet._

Here late a happy Plain, where shines the Dome
Sacred to _Fortune safe conducting home_.
Here stopt great _Cæsar_, in his ruddy Car,
With Dust resplendent of the northern War;
While _Rome_ with White bedeck'd, and Laurels crown'd,
With eager Voice and Hand her Genius own'd.
Here stands (for such the Merit of the Place)
An Arch Triumphant o'er the _Dacian_ Race.
Two Chariots, drawn by Elephants, proclaim
His double Conquest, and their double Shame.
In Gold both Teams he reins with equal Hand,
Alone sufficient for the wide Command.
Portals like this, great _Cæsar_, well become
The Mistress of the World, and Lord of _Rome_.

And in another Place, upon _Pompey_ and his Sons:

_Pompeios juvenes Asia atque Europa, sed ipsum
Terra tegit Libyes, si tamen ulla tegit:
Quid mirum, toto si spargitur orbe? jacere
Uno nun potuit tanta ruina loco._

_Asia_ and _Europe_ _Pompey_'s Sons contain,
Himself, if buried, lies in _Afric_'s Plain.
Nor wonder, if throughout the Globe are hurl'd
The mighty Ruins which once shook the World.

If it be ask'd in what the Nature of Epigram in general consists; I reply, Acuteness and Facetiousness are its chief Characteristicks. It ought not to be mix'd, but uniform; to tend only to one Point, which is always to be express'd with Strength and Poignancy in the last Verse. This is above all to be regarded: If the last Verse be flat and languid, or faulty in any Respect, it spoils the whole, how beautiful soever the several Parts are.

This, I say, is, in general, the Nature of Epigrams; to which, however, there are, perhaps, some few Exceptions, that are not so remarkable for their Acuteness and Facetiousness, as for their Softness and Delicacy, or some other Elegance. I have given Instances of one or two already; whether they are to be look'd upon as Epigrams, or to be class'd under some other Species of Poetry, I am little sollicitous. It is certain, there are some short beautiful Poems which cannot come within this Denomination; several in _Martial_, particularly, and many which you, Gentlemen, compose for your Lent Exercises upon philosophical Subjects; which, as they have already gain'd you great Reputation, so would they farther extend it, if a judicious Collection of them were publish'd[223]. The greatest Part of these are true Epigrams, witty and facetious. Some are Descriptions, Allusions, or poetical Fictions, elegant and beautiful, by whatever Name they are call'd, matters not. No one, I think, could justly object to you, that you affected a barren Subject for Poetry, the better to shew the Strength of your Parts, and Liveliness of your Invention; like a certain Monarch, who industriously chose a Place for his stately Fountains, incapable of having Water brought to it but at a prodigious Expense, only that he might leave a Monument of the Greatness of his Power and Magnificence: For as different as Poetry and Philosophy may seem to be, the one affords abundant Matter for the other, by furnishing the Mind with a Variety of Ideas, and diverting it continually into new Channels.

_Elogiums_ and _Inscriptions_ are to be reduced to this Head, and _Epitaphs_ likewise; the Elegance of which chiefly consists in an expressive Brevity. They should not have so much as one Epithet, properly so called; nor two Words synonymous. Some of these are true Metre, others are something between Prose and Verse, without any set Measure, but the Words perfectly poetical[224].

These little Compositions are often very beautiful: And I might add to them _Emblems_, or _Symbols_; by which I mean certain Figures, painted or cut, metaphorically expressing some Action, with an imperfect Sentence at Bottom, which in some measure explains the Sense of the Device, but leaves the Reader to supply the rest. The Painting is call'd the Body of the Emblem, the Sentence at Bottom, the Soul of it. These are Compositions purely poetical, and are often full of Thought and Elegance, I may add, of poetical Action too. A certain _French_ Writer[225] (and among the _French_ this Invention is in most Esteem) has writ a long and accurate Dissertation upon Emblems; wherein he has precisely defin'd their Nature, explain'd their different Species, laid down Rules for their Composition, and for distinguishing the true from the false; and, lastly, has produc'd Variety of Examples of them. I shall lay before you one Instance from him, that you may the better judge both of their Nature and Elegance. To express the Secresy of the King of _France_'s Counsels, as well as the terrible Effects of them to his Enemies, the Sun was represented behind a Cloud, with this half Verse at Bottom:

----_Tegiturque, parat dum fulmina._----

Conceal'd while he prepares his Bolts.

This is an Invention which I take to be modern, entirely unknown to the Ancients. And tho' the _French_ Author I just mention'd may (according to the Genius of his Nation) attribute, perhaps, more to it than it deserves; yet it certainly deserves its Praise, for Elegance and Ingenuity.

But to return to Epigrams: Whatever you write, _be short_. Those, perhaps, are the best, which don't exceed eight Lines; for the rest, they cannot be too short. This Rule, however, I don't propose as a general one. Some Epigrams may be beautiful, tho' longer; one of which I have already cited in this Discourse.

As to the Verse; in _Latin_ (for of that Language I here principally speak) Hexameter and Pentameter are the most proper, tho' others are not to be excluded; for Iambics and Hendecasyllables are frequently made use of.

Many of the Hendecasyllable Poems are rather Odes than Epigrams: Some seem to be of a mix'd Nature; and Poetry has nothing more beautiful than both. _Catullus_ is reckon'd the Prince in this Kind of Writing, whom others, both Ancients and Moderns, have very happily imitated, and some, perhaps, excell'd. The Nature of them consists in being lax and free, in chusing light Subjects, especially those of Love; and sometimes serious ones, as Epitaphs, and the like. It is always soft and sweet, full of tender Diminutives, and of Repetitions of the same Verse at proper Distances.

Whether the Ancients or Moderns have deserv'd best of these light Kinds of Poetry, but especially of Epigram, is hard to say. It is certain, the latter have a Turn of Wit which the former were Strangers to; but still I dare not decide the Preference. But leaving that Dispute, we shall all agree in this common Maxim, _Inest sua gratia parvis_; Little Things have their Beauty; and sometimes not a little Beauty. Tho' they are small in Bulk, yet they are great in Value; and not only Wit and Ingenuity are requir'd in the Composition of them, but true Reason, and solid Judgment:

_In tenui labor, at tenuis non gloria._----
Slight is the Subject, but not so the Praise.
_Pope._

Sometimes the Pains requir'd in this Kind of Composition is very great; but then they are always repaid by it. To which we may often apply what _Virgil_ says of the Bees:

_Ingentes animos augusto in pectore versant._

Their little Bodies mighty Souls inform.

FOOTNOTES:

[215] _Vossius_'s Division is here hinted at, but, I think, not clearly express'd: Epigrams, says he, are twofold,

1. When a Person, Fact, or Thing, is simply describ'd.

2. When somewhat is inferr'd from what was laid down, whether

from its being greater, less, equal, or contrary.

[216] Lib. I. Epig. 39.

[217] Lib. I. Epig. 19.

[218] Lib. III. Ep. 57.

[219] Lib. IV. Ep. 18.

[220] Thus applied, more out of Humour, than an ill Opinion of a certain Person's Success:

Fortune, we yield to thy capricious Will:
A Drop of _Ward_'s can cure, a Drop of Water kill!

[221] Lib. VIII. Epig. 65.

[222] Lib. V. Epig. 75.

[223] This has since been done in a Book intituled, _Carmina Quadragesimalia_, printed at _Oxford_ 1723, 8_vo._ reprinted at _London_ 1741, 12_mo._

[224] Too _poetical_ often in another Sense, when they give Characters absolutely false; from whence the _French_ have a witty Saying, _Il ment comme une Epitaphe_, He lies like an Epitaph.

[225] P. Bouhours, Entretiens d'Ariste & Eugene, Dial. ult.

[226] Geor. IV. 6.

[227] ℣ 83.

LECTURE XIII.
_Of Elegy._

This is a Subject, which, if I am not mistaken, very few have largely treated of. _Scaliger_, indeed, and some others, have just mention'd it, and made some short Strictures upon it: But no one, that I know of, except _Vossius_, of the better Sort of Writers, have writ a professed Dissertation of this Species of Poetry, tho' it is the sweetest, the most engaging, and every way worthy our Consideration. Who the Inventor was, _Horace_ professes himself ignorant:

_Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit Auctor,
Grammatici certant; & adhuc sub judice lis est._

But to whose Muse we owe that Sort of Verse,
Is undecided by the Men of Skill.
_Roscom._

Nor is this an Enquiry of much Moment. Under the Title of Elegy, is generally and primarily understood a mournful Poem, bewailing the Loss of some Person lately dead; and sometimes has any other melancholy plaintive Circumstance for its Subject. _Scaliger_ calls it a Poem proper for _Complaints_:

[229]----_Neu_ miserabiles
_Decantes elegos_;

says _Horace_, addressing himself to _Tibullus_, the best of Eleglic Writers. This appears clear enough, from the Etymology of the Word; either from ελεος, or (as others more justly) from ι, a Particle of Grief, and λεγειν to _speak;_ not from εν λεγειν, as some have ill judg'd, because, forsooth, we generally speak in Praise of whose Deaths we lament. It is certain, this Sort of Poem was anciently, and from its first Origin, made use of at Funerals. That, therefore, of one famous Elegiac Poet upon the Death of another, of equal Fame, of _Ovid_, I mean, on _Tibullus_, deserves, in the most proper Sense, this Title: The Writer himself observes as much, in the following Lines:

_Flebilis indignos Elegeia solve capillos;
Ah! nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit._

In wild Disorder let thy Tresses flow,
Thy Name now too much verify'd by Woe!

By which Words, however, he intimates, that some other Poems, besides Funeral ones, went under the Name of Elegies. _Horace_ is very express:

_Versibus impariter junctis querimonia primum,
Post etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos._

In Verses _long_ and _short_ Grief first appear'd,
In those they mourn'd past Ills, and future fear'd:
But soon these Lines with Mirth and Joy were fill'd,
And told when Fortune, or a Mistress smil'd.
_Creech._

From whence we learn, that Deaths are not the only Subjects of Elegy, but that by Degrees it was employ'd upon other Things that had nothing mournful in them, nay, that turn'd upon Gaiety and Festivity. _Ovid_'s Books of Love, the Poems of _Tibullus_ and _Propertius_, are entitled _Elegies_; and yet so far are they from being sad, that they are sometimes scarce serious. _Ovid_, particularly, takes too great a Liberty in this Kind of Poem, and lets his Joy break out to Excess. But if we look back to the Original, both of the Name and Thing, we shall find that Writings of this Sort are styled _Elegies_ only in an improper Sense of the Word. One and the same Title, therefore, was indiscriminately given to Poems on different Subjects, but which agreed in their Verse, and Manner of Writing.

The chief Subjects to which Elegy owes its Rise, are Death and Love: The Connexion between which, it is not my Business here to examine. The Writings of the Poets, I have above mention'd, chiefly consist of Love; tho' Elegies admit almost of any Matter, especially if it be treated of seriously. The Contempt of Riches, the Pleasures of the Country, are in great measure the Subject of them, in which a little Love is generally interspers'd. Some, but few, in _Tibullus_ and _Propertius_, have nothing of Death or Love; which, however, have been always the chief Subjects of this Kind of Poem. That Elegy, therefore, ought to be esteem'd the most perfect in its Kind, which has somewhat of both at once: Such, for Instance, where the Poet bewails the Death of his _Corinna_, his _Delia_, or _Lycoris_, or of some Youth or Damsel falling a Martyr to Love. Among the Love Elegies, those are to be placed next, which are full of that melancholy Complaint which Lovers seldom want Matter for. Yet there are some of a very different Temper; but which, as I observ'd before, are improperly rank'd in the Number of Elegies. Some, again, are full of Joy and Triumph: As in _Ovid_,

_Ite triumphales circum mea tempora lauri._

Triumphant Laurels, round my Temples twine.

Others satirical: As that of the same Poet, where, describing an old Woman, he breaks out into these Imprecations against her:

_Dii tibi dent nudosque lares, inopemque senectam,
Et longas hyemes, perpetuamque sitim._

May'st thou with Poverty and Age be curst,
The Length of Winter, and the Summer's Thirst.

Others are jocose in different Ways, Instances of all which we meet with in _Ovid_.

Many Elegies are writ in the Epistolary Manner, as is obvious, to every one that has but the least Knowledge of the Poets I have now cited. Under this Head, therefore, _Ovid_'s _Heroine_ Epistles (as they are usually call'd, from their being writ by Ladies of Prowess and Renown) come very properly to be mention'd, since they partake of the Nature of Elegy, not only on account of their Verse, but Sentiment. They are deservedly esteem'd the best Part of that Poet's Works; as his Book _De Tristibus_, tho' the truest Elegies, are the worst. Nothing can have a more delicate Turn than some of these Epistles. I have given Instances of this elsewhere; and have no need of repeating them here, or producing new ones. His _Heroine_ Epistles differ from his Elegiac in this, that the former are fictitious, and personate the Character of some one or other mention'd in fabulous History; the latter are address'd, in the Poet's own Name, to his Friends of either Sex. Setting aside this Circumstance, and that of their Length, there is very little Difference between them. To return, therefore, to Elegy, according to the common Acceptation of the Word; its chief Property is to be easy and soft; to flow in one even Current, and captivate the Ear with Melody. It must be free from all Asperity, from every Thing that is harsh, or unpleasant. For, as _Propertius_ sweetly expresses it:

_Carmina mansuetus lenia quærit Amor._

Soft flow the Lines that gentle Love indites.

And nothing is often more harmonious than Complaints; the Music of Birds is said by the Poets to be expressive of them, as in _Ovid_:

_Et latere ex omni dulce queruntur aves._

And all around
The Birds return a sweetly plaintive Sound.

How vocal are Tears, how moving poetic Grief! Hear _Tibullus_ thus bewailing his Sickness in a foreign Land:

_Ibitis Ægæas sine me, Messala, per undas,
O! utinam memor es ipse, cohorsque, mei!
Me tenet ignotis ægrum Phæacia terris;
Abstineas avidas, mors modo nigra, manus.
Abstineas, mors atra, precor; non hic mihi mater,
Quæ legat in mœstos ossa perusta sinus:
Non soror, Assyrios cineri quæ dedat odores,
Et fleat effusis ante sepulchra comis._

While you, _Messala_, tempt th' _Ægæan_ Sea,
I am prevented to attend your Way.
But Oh! I wish you still may condescend
To bear a kind Remembrance of your Friend.
Oppress'd with Sickness, wearied out with Pains,
_Phæacia_ me in unknown Lands detains,
Sick, and a Stranger, in a foreign Land.
Black Death, withdraw thy dire capacious Hand;
Black Death, keep off, I pray, no Mother here
Can gather up this Dust with pious Care:
No Sister here with decent Grief can come }
To please my Shade, and, off'ring rich Perfume, }
With flowing Hair lament before my Tomb. }
_Dart._

Hear _Ovid_ thus lamenting the Death of the same Poet, which follow'd from that Sickness. He speaks to Elegy:

_Ille tui Vates operis, tua fama, Tibullus,
Ardet in extructo corpus inane rogo.
Ecce Puer Veneris fert eversamque pharetram,
Et fractos arcus, & sine luce facem.
Aspice, demissis ut eat miserabilis alis,
Pectoraque infesta tundat aperta manu._

Thy Poet, and Promulger of thy Fame,
_Tibullus_ burns upon the Fun'ral Flame.
With Torch extinct, and Quiver downward born,
See _Cupid_, once sincere! attend his Urn.
Now beats his Breast, his tender Hands now wrings,
Broken his Shafts, and pendulous his Wings.

While the one dies thus, while the other so laments his Death, how justly are they both render'd immortal? They that thus write, and thus deserve Elegies, are such as least need them. Some _Descriptions_ in Elegy are not less affecting; as of the Elysian Fields, in the same Passage of _Tibullus_:

_Hic choreæ, cantusque vigent; passimque vagantes
Dulce sonant tenui gutture carmen aves.
Fert casiam non culta seges, totosque per agros
Floret odoratis terra benigna rosis.
Ac juvenum series, teneris immista puellis,
Ludit, & assidue prælia miscet Amor._
There Songs perpetual charm the list'ning Ear, }
Whilst all the feather'd Wand'rers of the Air, }
To join the Sound, their warbling Throats prepare. }
Cassia from ev'ry Hedge unbidden breathes,
And to the Gales its fragrant Sweets bequeaths;
The bounteous Earth its purple Product yields,
And od'rous Roses paint the blushing Fields:
There Trains of blooming Youths, and tender Maids,
Sport on the Green, and wanton in the Shades;
While busy Love attends them all the Way,
Joins in the Conflict, and provokes the Fray.
_Dart._

With this Kind of Poem, every Thing that is epigrammatical, satirical, or sublime, is inconsistent. Elegy aims not to be witty or facetious, acrimonious or severe, majestic or sublime; but is smooth, humble, and unaffected; nor yet is she abject in her Humility, but becoming, elegant, and attractive.

Among our modern Poems, we have few entitled Elegies; those only that are made on Funeral Occasions: But we have many that may be call'd so, in the larger Sense of the Word, as it was used by the Ancients, and we have above explain'd it: Many very ingenious ones on Love; and others of a melancholy and soft Turn.

Among the Ancients, Hexameters and Pentameters were so peculiar to Elegy, that this Kind of Metre is usually styled _Elegiac_; nor is any more soft, or more harmonious. Instead of it, we, in our own Tongue, use the Heroic.

The Writers in this Way that Antiquity has handed down to us, are all in _Latin_. Some there were more early among the _Greeks_, as _Callimachus_, _Philetas_, and others; the Fragments only of whose Writings have been sav'd from the Wreck of Time. They that would know which they are, may consult the learned _Vossius_, and others; it being beside my Purpose to enquire into Facts and History.

Among the _Latins_, _Ovid_, _Tibullus_, and _Propertius_, bear the first Rank; with whom _Catullus_ is sometimes join'd: But not so properly, his Merit being chiefly in his Hendecasyllables, and some other wanton Verses, and his elegant Poem on the Argonautic Expedition. There is nothing of his Elegiacal, except the Measure of some of his Verses; and they so uneven, that they scarce deserve the Name of Verse; so rough, that they cannot be read without Offence to the Ear, nay, to the very Teeth. _Ovid_ is generally reckon'd, and that deservedly, the first in this Class, no one having equall'd his Numbers, nor exceeded his Diction. I submit it only, for it is a Matter of Doubt, whether _Tibullus_ is not less diffuse, and more correct. There is one Fault in _Ovid_, which is unpardonable, his perpetual and nauseous Repetition of _mei_, _tui_, and _sui_, in the last Foot of his Pentameters. How much more beautiful would they have been, if this Fault had been avoided, which might have been done with little Care. And yet a sixth Part, at least, are so terminated, than which, nothing can be more lifeless and insignificant. _Tibullus_ and _Propertius_ rarely fall into this Fault, but into another, especially the latter of them, from which _Ovid_ is free; I mean the concluding the Pentameter with Words of three or more Syllables; whereas Harmony requires a Word of no more than two. One Writer in this Way it would be unpardonable to pass over, tho' we have little remaining of him, if he is the same (as it is probable he is not) with him to whom _Virgil_ has given Immortality by mentioning him in his Works: For immortal, sure, he must needs be, of whom the best of immortal Poets has given this Eulogy:

_Pierides, vos hæc facietis maxima Gallo,
Gallo, cujus amor tantum mihi crescit in horas_, &c.

You shall for _Gallus_ dignify this Verse,
_Gallus_, for whom my Friendship grows each Hour.

This from _Virgil_'s Eclogues, which Species of Poetry will be the Subject of our next Discourse.

FOOTNOTES:

[228] Art. Poet. ℣ 77.

[229] L. I. Od. 33.

[230] Ov. Amor. L. III. El. 9.

[231] De Art. Poet. 75.

[232] Amor. Lib. II. Eleg. 12.

[233] Lib. I. Eleg. 9.

[234] L. I. El. 9.

[235] Amor. L. III. El. 1.

[236] L. I. El. 3.

[237] Amor. L. III. El. 8.

[238] L. I. El. 3.

[239] Eclog. X. 72.

LECTURE XIV.
_Of Pastorals._

This, also, is another Species of Poetry, not professedly treated of by any of the Ancients, nay, not so much as mention'd amongst their various Precepts relating to this Art. The later _Latin_ Critics have bestow'd some Pains upon it; but our modern ones, of the present Age, much more; and (to speak my own Judgment, which I shall always be ready to submit to better) seem to have attributed too much Honour to it, and to have rais'd more Dust, than the Importance of the Subject deserv'd. Not but that I think it a very elegant Kind of Writing, and every Way worthy of Imitation. As it is now incumbent on me to say somewhat of it, agreeably to my present Design, I shall put together what I think most material relating to it, without making any Difference between what I have advanced new, or others have observed before me.

In the first Ages of the World, before Men were united in Cities, and had learnt the studied Arts of Luxury, they lead in the Country plain harmless Lives; and Cottages, rather than Houses, might be said to be their Habitation. Those happy Times abounded with Leisure and Recreation: To feed the Flock, and cultivate the Land, was the only Employ of its peaceable Inhabitants; the former the joint Care of the Women and the Men. Hence arose abundant Matter for Love and Verse. Nay, when the World was grown older, and Mankind so numerous, that they began to secure themselves in Walls, and to introduce what we call a more civil Life, yet still Shepherds and Husbandmen maintain'd their primitive Honour. Country Affairs, but especially the Care of the Flock, was not only the Labour of the Vulgar, but the Exercise of the Rich and Powerful, nay, of Princes of either Sex. This appears sufficiently, from sacred History, in the Example of _Jacob_, _Rachel_, _Moses_, and the other Patriarchs: From the Testimony of Heathen Writers; as in that of _Virgil_,

_Nec te pœniteat pecoris, divine Poeta,
Et formosus oves ad flumina pavit Adonis._

Them, heav'nly Poet, blush not thou to own:
Ev'n fair _Adonis_ did not scorn to tend
Along the River's Side his fleecy Care.

And in another Place, to omit other Instances:

_Quem fugis, ah! demens? habitarant Dii quoque silvas,
Dardaniusque Paris._

Whom fly'st thou, thoughtless? Gods have liv'd in Woods;
And _Trojan Paris_.

From what has been said, it is easy to see the Origin of _Pastorals_. It appears to have been a very ancient Species of Poetry, tho' I can by no means agree with _Scaliger_[242], in thinking it the oldest, which is an Honour I shall hereafter shew to be due to the Lyric Kind, Shepherds, 'tis true, were the first Poets; but Odes and Hymns, not Pastorals, were their original Compositions. However, Pastorals, as I said, are undoubtedly of very great Antiquity; and the _Song of Solomon_ in sacred Writ comes under this Denomination; from whence, 'tis very observable, _Theocritus_ has borrow'd literally many Expressions; making use of the Version of the Seventy-two, with whom he was cotemporary.

The Nature of this Kind of Poem is to be sweet, easy, and flowing, and simple beyond all others: And yet not so humbly simple, (which is a common Mistake) as if it represented only the Characters of poor ignorant Shepherds, and the Thoughts of modern Rustics. The Scene, indeed, of Bucolics (for that is another Name for Pastorals, the former derived from the Herds, as the latter from the Flocks, that are the different Objects of the rural Care) ought always to be laid in the Country. Nor ought it to be diversify'd with any Thing repugnant to such a Situation; nay, Views, and little Descriptions of Lawns and Groves, ought always to be interspers'd in these Poems, whatsoever the Subject of them be. Yet there may be a Mixture of Images of a different Kind, and much elevated above the Apprehension of the Vulgar. _Virgil_, therefore, is very undeservedly censured by many for having introduced Philosophy, and even somewhat of the Sublime, into his Eclogues: For since, as we observ'd, many of the ancient Shepherds were Persons, I need not say of the better, but even of the first Rank, it is no great Wonder if some of them were Scholars, and Philosophers. 'Tis a Mistake to say that _Virgil_'s fourth and fifth Eclogues are not Pastorals; and that nothing sublime, but every Thing simple and rustic, is compatible with this Kind of Poetry. They are Pastorals, undoubtedly; tho' of a different Kind from the common ones. There is a certain Sublimity, agreeable enough to Pastorals; a Sublimity that arises from Philosophy and Religion, not from the Tumults of War, the Pomps of a Court, or the Refinements of the City. I don't see, therefore, why that divine Eclogue; _Sicelides Musæ_, &c. (divine I may call it, on many Accounts) should not be allow'd a Place among the Pastorals. The rural Muses are invok'd; the Woods are celebrated; many Things expresly relate to the Country, and nothing repugnant to it. The Subject, indeed, is great; the Words and Thoughts sublime; sublimer, I may say, than the Poet himself was aware of. For it is the Opinion of the most learned Divines, to which I very readily adhere, that he by happy Error celebrates from the Sibylline Oracles the Birth of _Christ_, which was then approaching; and it is evident, that many of the Lines describe the Nature of the Messias, and of his Kingdom, in Terms of near Affinity with the sacred Writings[243]. And nothing, surely, could be more proper, than that the Prince of Poets should promulge that joyful News in Pastorals, which was first proclaim'd from Heaven to Shepherds. That Objection drawn from the Invention of War and Ships, both which the Poet touches upon in the following Lines, is of little Moment.

_Alter erit tum Tiphys, & altera quæ vehat Argo
Delectos heroas; erunt etiam altera bella,
Atque iterum ad Trojam magnus mittetur Achilles._
Another _Tiphys_ o'er the Main shall waft
The chosen Chiefs, another _Argo_ guide;
New warlike Expeditions shall be form'd,
And great _Achilles_ sail again for _Troy_.

These are only incidental Ornaments of the Poem, not properly the Subject of it. Now it is impossible that the Argonautic Expedition, so famous throughout the World, should be unknown to Shepherds of Birth and Education. And as little probable is it, that they should be ignorant of the _Trojan_ War, occasion'd by one of their own Profession. It is repugnant, indeed, to Pastorals, to turn wholly upon warlike Affairs; but it is a very different Thing to bring them in only as Embellishments. This is what may be justly pleaded for all the Eclogues of _Virgil_, where Arms are mentioned; excepting only the tenth:

_Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis
Tela inter media, atque adversos detinet hostes._

Now frantic Love amidst thick Darts and Foes
Detains me in the rigid Toil of Arms.

Which, I confess, raises in me some Difficulty; because the Speaker introduc'd is manifestly a Soldier. But it must be observ'd, that he does not at the same Time personate a Shepherd, as is manifest, from his Speech to the _Arcadians_, when he expresses his Envy of their happy Retirement:

_Atque utinam è vobis unus, vestrique fuissem
Aut custos gregis, aut maturæ vinitor uvæ._

O had kind Fortune made me one of you,
Keeper of Flocks, or Pruner of the Vine.

Had he been _one of them_, he would have join'd two contradictory Ideas; for a Shepherd in Arms, who could have born? But if it be ask'd, Why then is the chief Person in the Pastoral drawn of a very different Character from Pastoral; it is sufficient to answer, That _Virgil_ so thought fit; and there is nothing absurd, or unnatural, in such a Conduct. For the State of the Case is no more than this: _Gallus_, engag'd in Camps, happens to fall in Love, and retires to the Solitude of the Country, to give vent to his Passion. Shepherds, Nymphs, _Sylvanus_, _Pan_, and even _Apollo_ himself, lend their kind Endeavours to asswage it. Thus far every Thing is natural, elegant, and truly pastoral. And the whole Poem is of the same Nature, excepting only the two Verses I have now cited. Leave out these, and even _Gallus_'s Complaint is perfectly rural, and all the Thoughts drawn from the Country. In short, so far am I from assenting to those Critics who would exterminate this from the Number of Pastorals, that I would place it the very first of all. The sixth Eclogue of _Virgil_, which I just now mention'd, is full of Philosophy and Religion: And that's a sort of Sublime, which, I before observ'd, was very consistent with Pastoral. The fourth I have likewise spoke to. The rest of them are Pastoral, without any Objection; tho' the Etymology of the Word _Eclogue_ by no means implies it; which signifies no more than _Select Poems upon any Subject whatsoever_. The Word _Idyllium_ is as little expressive of _Pastorals_, nor are all _Theocritus_'s such: It is deriv'd from ειδος, Species; and the Word _Idyllia_ imports no more than _Poems of various Sorts_.

It must be own'd, however, that the greatest Essential in Pastoral is _Simplicity_; and that these Lines have much less of the Nature of it,

_Aspice convexo nutantem pondere mundum,
Terrasque, tractusque maris_, &c.

See the globous Weight
Of Earth, of Heav'n, of Ocean, nod and shake.

than the following:

_Forte sub arguta consederat ilice Daphnis,
Compulerantque greges Corydon & Thyrsis in unum,
Thyrsis oves, Corydon distentas lacte capellas._

By chance, beneath the Covert of an Oak,
That whisper'd with the Breezes, _Daphnis_ sate;
And _Corydon_ and _Thyrsis_ to one Place
Together drew their Flocks; _Thyrsis_, his Sheep;
His milch Goats, _Corydon_.

But then it ought to be elegantly simple, for the Plowmen should appear in their Holyday Garments. Thus we see Shepherds and Shepherdesses introduced upon the Stage; and tho' they bring Crooks in their Hands, and Straw Hats on their Heads, yet their Dress is nearly rural, and above the Habit of the Vulgar. In _Virgil_ we have frequent Examples of this polite Rusticity, in those Places, especially, where Love is concern'd. I shall only produce one, out of many, where _Damon_, desperately in Love with the fair, but cruel _Nisa_, vents his Passion in these Words:

_Sepibus in nostris parvam te roscida mala
(Dux ego vester eram) vidi cum matre legentem;
Alter ab undecimo tum me jam ceperat annus,
Jam fragiles poteram à terra contingere ramos:
Ut vidi! ut perii! ut me malus abstulit error!_

Thee, with thy Mother, in our Meads I saw,
Gathering fresh Apples; I myself your Guide;
Then thou wert little; I, just then advanc'd
To my twelfth Year, cou'd barely from the Ground
Touch with my reaching Hand the tender Boughs:
How did I look! how gaze my Soul away!
How did I die! in fatal Error lost!

How unartful the Complaint, but yet how lovely?

Tho' the Style of Pastoral is humble, it is not sordidly mean, nor slovenly careless, neither resembling the Diction of Comedy, which is almost Prose; nor of the bantering Satire, which is one Degree farther from it: But is sweet, pleasant, and easy; elegant with Plainness, and but poetically low:

_O tantum libeat mecum tibi sordida rura,
Atque humiles habitare casas, & figere cervos!_

O! were but thy Delight with me to dwell,
In lowly Cottages, and rural Shades
By thee despis'd! _to drive the Kids a-field
With a green Wand_, and shoot the flying Deer!

Antique Phrases, Ænigma's, Proverbs, superstitious Fables, are no unbecoming Ornaments of this Sort of Poetry.

It generally consists of Dialogue, in which some little dramatical Action ought to be represented, a rural Scene described, Interlocutors under different Circumstances, and a certain Plot carried on to a Conclusion. For 'tis not to be imagin'd, as many, now a-days do, that every Dialogue between two Shepherds, full of the bleating of Flocks, is a proper Pastoral. No, 'tis a Thing that requires more Labour, Art, and Judgment, than we are generally aware of: Nor is any Kind of Poem less tolerable, if ill, or even moderately perform'd. Who can bear those Crowds of Pastorals, as they are inscrib'd, that are daily publish'd in _Latin_ and _English_, upon the Death of Princes, or Friends? They are all cast in the same Mould; read one, you read all. _Daphnis_ asks _Thyrsis_ the Reason of his Grief, whether he has lost a Goat; or _Amaryllis_, or _Neæra_, has been unkind to him. The Answer is, his Sorrow is owing to no such Cause; but that _Pan_, or _Phyllis_, or any one else is dead. Say you so, says _Daphnis_, I thought all along that _Pan_ had been immortal, or _Phyllis_, I am sure, deserv'd to have been so. They then join in celebrating, alternately, the Praises of the deceas'd. Birds, Sheep, Woods, Mountains, Rivers, are full of Complaints. We are told how the croaking Raven foreboded the dismal Event; Oaks were riv'd with Thunder; every Thing, in short, is wondrous lamentable, and in the most emphatical Sense miserable.

The Subjects of Pastoral are as various as the Passions of human Nature, nay, it may, in some measure, partake of every Kind of Poetry, but with this Proviso, that the Scene of it ought always to be in the Country, and the Thoughts never contrary to those that are bred there. Some of these short Strictures of Wit between contending Shepherds, favour something of Epigram: Thus in _Virgil_;

_Fraxinus in silvis pulcherrima, pinus in hortis,
Populus in fluviis, abies in montibus altis:
Sæpius at si me, Lycida formose, revisas;
Fraxinus in silvis cedet tibi, pinus in hortis._