pounded together, but can scarce attend to such a complete image as is made out of all three. This way of mixing two different ideas together in one image, as it is a great surprise to the reader, is a great beauty in poetry, if there be fufficient ground for it in the nature of the thing that is described. The Latin poets are very full of it, especially the worst of them; for the more correct use it but fparingly, as inded the nature of things will feldom afford a juft occafion for it. When any thing we defcribe has accidentally in it fome quality that feems repugnant to its nature, or is very extraordinary and uncommon in things of that fpecics, fuch a compound image as we are now speaking of is made, by turning this quality into an epithet of what we defcribe. Thus Claudian, having got a hollow ball of cryftal, with water in the midst of it, for his fubject, takes the advantage of considering the cryftal as hard, ftony, precious water, and the water as foft, fluid, imperfect crystal; and thus sports off above a dozen epigrams, in fetting his words and ideas at variance among one another. He has a great many beauties of this nature in him; but he gives himself up fo much to this way of writing, that a man may easily know where to meet with them when he sees his fubject, and often ftrains fo hard for them, that he many times makes his defcriptions bombastic and unnatural. What work would he have made with Virgil's golden bough, had he been to describe it? We fhould certainly have seen the yellow bark, golden fprouts, radiant leaves, blooming metal, branching gold, and all the quarrels that could have been raised between words of fuch different natures: when we fee Virgil contented with his "Auri frondentis;" and what is the same, though much finer expreffed-" Frondefcit virga metallo." This compofition of different ideas is often met with in a whole fentence, where circumstances are happily reconciled that feem wholly foreign to each other; and is often found among the Latin poets (for the Greeks wanted art for it), in their descriptions of pictures, images, dreams, apparitions, metamorphofes, and the like; where they bring together two such thwarting ideas, by making one part of their descriptions relate to the reprefentation, and the other to the thing that is reprefented. Of this nature is that verfe, which, perhaps, is the wittieft in Virgil; "Attollens humeris famamque et fata nepotum," Æn. viii., where he defcribes Æneas carrying on his fhoulders the reputation and fortunes of his pofterity; which, though very odd and furprising, is plainly made out, when we confider how thefe difagreeing ideas are reconciled, and his pofterity's fame and fate made portable by being engraven on the fhield. Thus, when Ovid tells us that Pallas tore in pieces Arachne's work, where fhe had embroidered all the rapes that the gods had committed, he fays-" Rupit cœleftia "crimina." I fhall conclude this tedious reflection with an excellent stroke of this nature out of P. 209. c. I. l. 40. A generous pack, &c.] I have not here troubled myself to call over Actæon's pack of dog's in rhyme: Spot and Whitefoot make but a mean figure in heroic verse; and the Greek names Ovid ufes would found a great deal worfe. He clofes up his own catalogue with a kind of a jeft on it: Quofque referre mora eft”—which, by the way, is too light and full of humour for the other ferious parts of this ftory. This way of inferting catalogues of proper names in their poems, the Latins took from the Greeks; but have made them more pleafing than those they imitate, by adapting so many delightful characters to their perfons names; in which part Ovid's copiousness of invention, and great infight into nature, has given him the precedence to all the poets that ever came before or after him. The fmoothness of our English verfe is too much lost by the repetition of proper names, which is otherwife very natural, and abfolutely necessary in some cafes; as before a battle to raise in our minds an anfwerable expectation of the events, and a lively idea of the numbers that are engaged. For, had Homer or Virgil only told us in two or three lines before their fights, that there were forty thoufand of each fide, our imagination could not possibly have been fo affected, as when we fee every leader fingled out, and every regiment in a manner drawą up before our eyes. FAB. III. P. 209. c. 2. l. 24. How Semele, &c.] This is one of Ovid's finished stories. The tranfition to it is proper and unforced: Juno, in her two speeches, acts incomparably well the parts of a refenting Mr. Montague's * Poem to the King: where he goddess and a tattling nurfe: Jupiter makes a very majestic figure with his thunder and lightning, but * Afterwards Earl of Halifax. 1 P. 209. c. 2. l. 54. 'Tis well, fays fhe, &c.] Virgil has made a Beroë of one of his goddeffes in the fifth Æneid; but if we compare the fpeech fhe there makes with that of her name-fake in this ftory, we may find the genius of each poet difcovering itself in the language of the nurse: Virgil's Iris could not have spoken more majeftically in her own fhape; but Juno is fo much altered from herself in Ovid, that the goddess is quite loft in the old woman. FAB. V. P.211.c.1.1.13. She can't begin, &c.] If playing on words be excufable in any poem, it is in this, where Echo is a speaker; but it is so mean a kind of wit, that, if it deferves excufe, it can claim no more. Mr. Locke, in his Effay of Human Understanding, has given us the best account of wit, in fhort, that can any where be met with. Wit," fays he," lies in the affemblage of ideas, and putting "thofe together with quickness and variety, "wherein can be found any refemblance or con"gruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and "agreeable vifions in the fancy." Thus does true wit, as this incomparable author obferves, generally confift in the likeness of ideas, and is more or less wit, as this likeness in ideas is more surprising and unexpected. But as true wit is nothing elfe but a fimilitude in ideas, fo is falfe wit the fimilitude in words, whether it lies in the likeness of letters only, as in anagram and acroftic; or of fyllables, as in doggrel rhymes; or in whole words, as puns, echoes, and the like. Befides thefe two kinds of - falfe and true wit, there is another of a middle nature, that has fomething of both in it.-when in two ideas that have fome resemblance with each other, and are both expreffed by the fame word, we make use of the ambiguity of the word to speak that of one idea included under it, which is proper to the other. Thus, for example, moft languages have hit on the word, which properly fignifies fire, to exprefs love by (and therefore we may be fure there is fome resemblance in the ideas mankind have of them); from hence the witty poets of all languages, when they once have called love a fire, confider it no longer as the paffion, but fpeak of it under the notion of a real fire; and, as the turn of wit requires, make the fame word in the fame fentence ftand for either of the ideas that is annexed to it. When Ovid's Apollo falls in love, he burns with a new flame; when the fea-nymphs languish with this passion, they kindle in the water; 2 the Greek epigrammatist fell in love with one that flung a fnow-ball at him, and therefore takes occafion to admire how fire could be thus concealed in fnow. In fhort, whenever the poet feels any thing in this love that resembles fomething in fire, he carries on this agreement into a kind of allegory; but if, as in the preceding inftances, he finds any circumstances in his love contrary to the nature of fire, he calls his love a fire, and by joining this circumstance to it, furprises his reader with a feeming contradiction. I fhould not have dwelt so long on this inftance, had it not been so frequent in Ovid, who is the greatest admirer of this mixt wit of all the ancients, as our Cowley is among the moderns. Homer, Virgil, Horace, and the greatest poets fcorned it; as indeed it is only fit for epigram, and little copies of verses: one would wonder therefore how fo fublime a genius as Milton could fometimes fall into it, in fuch a work as an epic poem. But we must attribute it to his humouring the vicious taste of the age he lived in, and the falfe judgment of our unlearned English readers in general, who have few of them a relish of the more mafculine and noble beauties of poetry. But we cannot meet with a better inftance of the extravagance and wantonnefs of Ovid's fancy, than in that particular circumftance at the end of the ftory, of Narciffus's gazing on his face after death in the Stygian waters. The defign was very bold, of making a boy fall in love with himself here on earth; but to torture him with the fame paffion after death, and not to let his ghoft reft in quiet, was intolerably cruel and uncharitable. F. P. 21I. c. I. 1. 42. But whilft within, &c.] "Dumque fitim fedare cupit fitis altera crevit." We have here a touch of that mixed wit I have before fpoken of; but I think the measure of pun in it out-weighs the true wit; for if we exprefs the thought in other words the turn is almost loft. This paffage of Narciffus probably gave Milton the hint of applying it to Eve, though I think her furprise, at the fight of her own face in the water, far more just and natural than this of Narciffus. She was 1 a raw unexperienced being, just created, and therefore might easily be fubject to the delufion; but Narciffus had been in the world fixteen years, was brother and fon to the water-nymphs, and therefore to be fuppofed converfant with fountains long before this fatal mistake. P. 211. c. 2. l. 12. You trees, fays he, &c.] Ovid is very juftly celebrated for the paffionate fpeeches of his poem. They have generally abundance of nature in them, but I leave it to better judgments to confider whether they are not often too witty and too tedious. The poet never caręs for fmothering a good thought that comes in his way, and never thinks he can draw tears enough from his reader: by which means our grief is either diverted or spent before we come to his conclusion; for we cannot at the same time be delighted with the wit of the poet, and concerned for the perfon that speaks it; and a great critic has admirably well obferved, "Lamentationes debent effe "breves et concifæ, nam lacryma fubitò excrescit, 60 et difficile et Auditorem vel Lectorem in fummo "animi affectu diu tenere." Would any one in Narciffus's condition have cried out-" Inopem me copia fecit ?" Or can any thing be more unnatural than to turn off from his forrows for the fake of a pretty reflection? "O utinam noftro fecedere corpore poffem! "Votum in amante novum; vellem, quod amamus, abeffet." None, I fuppofe, can be much grieved for one that is fo witty on his own afflictions. But I think we may every where observe in Ovid, that he employs his invention more than his judgment; and speaks all the ingenious things that can be faid on the subject, rather than thofe which are particularly proper to the perfon and circumftances of the fpeaker. FAB. VII. P. 212. c.2, 1. 3. When Pentheus thus, &c.] There is a great deal of fpirit and fire in this speech of Pentheus, but I believe none befide Ovid would have thought of the transformation of the ferpent's teeth for an incitement to the Thebans courage, when he defires them not to degenerate from their great forefather the Dragon, and draws a parallel between the behaviour of them both. "Efte, precor, memores, quâ fitis ftirpe creati, Illiufque animos, qui multos perdidit unus, "Sumite ferpentis: pro fontibus ille, lacuque "Interiit, at vos pro famâ vincite veftrâ. "Ille dedit letho fortes, vos pellite molles, "Et patrium revocate decus." FA B. VIII. The story of Acœtes has abundance of nature in all the parts of it, as well in the defcription of his own parentage and employment, as in that of the failors characters and manners. But the fhort fpeeches fcattered up and down in it, which make the Latin very natural, cannot appear fo well in our language, which is much more ftubborn and unpliant; and therefore are but as so many rubs in the ftory, that are still turning the narration out of its proper course. The transformation at the latter end is wonderfully beautiful. F.A B. IX. Ovid has two very good fimilies on Pentheus, where he compares him to a river in a former ftory, and to a war-horse in the prefent. : MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER, ON HIS PICTURE OF THE KING. KNELLER, with silence and surprisę The magic of thy art calls forth Their fovereign, through his wide command, Thou, Kneller, long with noble pride, Thy pencil has, by monarchs fought, And, in the robes of state array'd, Here fwarthy Charles appears, and there may fam'd Brunswick be the laft, (Though heaven should with my wish agree, And long preserve thy art in thee) The last, the happiest British king, Wife Phidias thus, his fkill to prove, Great Pan, who wont to chace the fair, And mighty Mars, for war renown'd, Her fhort-liv'd darling fon to mourn. PROLOGUE то SMITH'S PHEDRA AND HIPPOLITUS. LONG has a race of heroes fill'd the stage, And, from the dull fatigue of thinking free, Our home-spun authors must forfake the field, To your new taste the poet of this day [joy : Shunn'd Phædra's arms, and fcorn'd the proffer'd PROLOGUE ΤΟ STEELE'S TENDER HUSBAND. In the first rise and infancy of farce, When fools were many, and when plays were scarce, The raw unpractis'd authors could, with ease, [beaux; But now our British theatre can boast Drolls of all kinds, a vast unthinking host! Fruitful of folly and of vice, it fhows Cuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and Rough country knights are found of every fhire; Of every fashion gentle fops appear; And punks of different characters we meet, As frequent on the stage as in the pit. Our modern wits are forc'd to pick and cull, And here and there by chance glean up a fool: Long ere they find the neceffary fpark, They fearch the town, and beat about the park, To all his most frequented haunts refort, Oft dog him to the ring, and oft to court; As love of pleasure or of place invites; And fometimes catch him taking fnuff at White's. Howe'er, to do you right, the prefent age Breeds very hopeful monsters for the ftage; That scorn the paths their dull forefathers trod, And that there may be fomething gay and new, The t'other more refin'd, she comes from France: Rescue, like courteous knights, the nymph from danger, And kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger. EPILOGUE TO LANSDOWNE'S BRITISH ENCHANTERS. WHEN Orpheus tun'd his lyre with pleasing woe, That this night's strains the same success may find, The fame dull fights in the fame landskip mixt, But howfoe'er, to please your wandering eyes, Bright objects disappear and brighter rife: There's none can make amends for loft delight, While from that circle we divert your fight. |