cannot at their pleafure allay again; by whom ftorms are raised that overthrow buildings, and are the cause of miferable wrecks at fea. Unfkilful divines do oftentimes the like; for when they call unfeasonably for zeal, there appears a fpirit of cruelty; and by the like error, instead of truth they raife difcord; inftead of wifdom fraud; inftead of reformation tumult; and controverfy inftead of religion. Whereas, in the heathen poets, at least in those whofe works have lafted to the time we are in, there are none of thofe indifcretions to be found that tended to fubverfion or difturbance of the commonwealths wherein they lived. But why a Christian should think it an ornament to his poem either to profane the true. God, or invoke a falfe one, I can imagine no caufe, but a reafonlefs imitation of custom, of a foolish custom, by which a man enabled to fpeak wifely from the principles of nature and his own meditation, loves rather to be thought to fpoak by infpiration like a bagpipe. and amiable image of heroic virtue) must not only be the poet to place and connect, but also the philofopher to furnish and square his matter; that is, to make both body and foul, colour and thadow of his poem out of his own store; which, how well you have performed, I am now confidering. Obferving how few the perfons be you introduce in the beginning, and how in the courfe of the actions of these (the number increasing), after feveral confluences, they run all at last into the two principal streams of your poem, Gondibert and Ofwald, methinks the table is not much unlike the theatre. For fo, from feveral and far diftant fources, do the leffer brooks of Lombardy, flowing into one another, fall at last into the two main rivers, the Po and the Adice. It hath the same resemblance alfo with a man's veins, which proceeding from different parts, after the like concourfe, infert themselves at laft into the two principal veins of the body. But when I confidered that alfo the actions of men, which fingly are inconfiderable, after many conjunctures, grow at laft either into one great protecting power, or into two destroying factions, I could not but approve the ftructure of your poem, which ought to be no other than fuch as an imitation of human life requireth. two of ambition, which (though a fault) has fomewhat heroic in it, and therefore must have place in an heroic poem. To fhow the reader in what place he fhall find every excellent picture of virtue you have drawn, is too long; and to show him one, is to prejudice the reft; yet I cannot forbear to point him to the defcription of love in the perfon of Birtha, in the feventh canto of the fecond book. There has nothing been faid of that fubject neither by the ancient nor modern poets comparable to it. Poets are painters: I would fain fee another painter draw fo true, perfect, and natural love to the life, and make use of nothing but pure lines, without the help of any the leaft uncomely fhadow, as you have done. But let it be read as a piece by itself, for in the almost equal height of the whole, the eminence of parts is loft. Time and education begets experience, experience begets memory, memory begets judgment and fancy, judgment begets the strength and structure, and fancy begets the ornaments of a poem. The ancients therefore fabled not abfurdly in making memory the mother of the mufes. For memory is the world (though not really, yet fo as In the ftreams themselves I find nothing but in a looking-glafs), in which the judgment, the fettled valour, clean honour, calm counfel, learn leverer fifter bufieth herself in a grave and rigided diverfion, and pure love, fave only a torrent or examination of all the parts of nature, and in regittering by letters their order, caufes, ufes, differences, and resemblances; whereby the fancy, when any work of art is to be performed, finds her materials at hand and prepared for ufe, and needs no more than a swift motion over them, that what the wants and is there to be had may not lie too long unefpied. So that when the feemeth to fly from one Indies to the other, and from heaven to earth, and to penetrate into the hardeft matter and obfcureft places, into the future, and into her felf, and all this in a point of time, the voyage is not very great, herself being all the feeks; and her wonderful celerity confifteth not fo much in motion, as in copious imagery difcreetly ordered and perfectly registered in the memory, which moft men under the name of philofophy have a glimpfe of, and is pretended to by many that, grossly mistaking her, embrace contention in her place. But fo far forth as the fancy of man has traced the ways of true philofophy, fo far it hath produced very marvellous effects to the benefit of mankind. All that is beautiful or defenfible in building, or marvellous in engines and inftruments of motion, whatsoever commodity men receive from the obfervations of the heavens, from the defcription of the earth, from the account of time, from walking on the feas; and whatfoever diftinguifheth the civility of Europe from the barbarity of American favages, is the workmanship of fancy, but guided by the precepts of true philofophy. But where these precepts fail, as they have hitherto failed in the doctrine of moral virtue, there the architect (Fancy) muft take the philofopher's part upon herself. He therefore that undertakes an heroic poem (which is to exhibit a venerable There are fome that are not pleased with fic tion, unless it be bold, not only to exceed the work, but alfo the poffibility of nature: They would have impenetrable armours, enchanted caf tles, invulnerable bodies, iron men, flying horfes and a thousand other fuch things, which are easily feigned by them that dare. Against fuch I defend you (without affenting to those that condemn either Homer or Virgil), by diffenting only from thofe that think the beauty of a poem con. fifteth in the exorbitancy of the fiction. For as truth is the bound of historical, fo the refemblance of truth is the utmost limit of poetical liberty. In old time, amongst the heathen, fuch strange fictions, and metamorphofes, were not fo remote from the articles of their faith, as they are now from ours, and therefore were not fo unpleasant. Beyond the actual works of nature a poet may now go, but beyond the conceived poffibility of nature, never. I can allow a geographer to make in the fea, a fish or a fhip, which, by the fcale of his map, would be two or three hundred mile long, and think it done for ornament, because it is done without the precincts of his undertaking; but when he paints an elephant fo, I prefently apprehend it as ignorance, and a plain confeffion of terra incognita. As the defcription of great men and great actions is the conftant defign of a poet, fo the defcriptions of worthy circumstances are neceffary acceffions to a poem; and, being well performed, are the jewels and moft precious ornaments of poefy. Such in Virgil are the Funeral Games of Anchifes, the Duel of Æneas and Turnus, &c.; and fuch in yours are, The Hunting, The Battaile, The City Morning, The Funeral, The Houfe of Aftragon, The Library, and The Temples, equal to his, or thofe of Homer whom he imitated. There remains now no more to be confidered but the expreffion, in which confifteth the countenance and colour of a beautiful mufe, and is given her by the poet out of his own provifion, or is borrowed from others. That which he hath of his own is nothing but experience, and knowledge of nature, and specially human nature, and is the true and natural colour. But that which is taken but of books (the ordinary boxes of counterfeit complexion) flows well or ill, as it hath more or lefs refemblance with the natural, and are not to be used (without examination) unadvifedly. For in him that profeffes the imitation of nature (as all poets db), what greater fault can there be, than to bewray an ignorance of nature in his poem, efpecially having a liberty allowed him, if he meet with any thing he cannot mafter, to leave it out. That which giveth a poem the true and natural colour confifteth in two things, which are, To know well, that is, to have images of nature in the memory diftinct and clear; and, To know much. A fign of the firft is perfpicuity, property, and decency, which delight all forts of men, either by inftructing the ignorant, or foothing the learned in their knowledge. A fign of the latter is novelty of expreffion, and pleaseth by excitation of the mind; for novelty caufeth admiration, and admiration curiofity, which is a delightful appetite of knowledge. There be fo many words in ufe at this day in the English tongue, that, though of magnific found, yet (like the windy blifters of a troubled water) have no fenfe at all, and fo many others that lofe their meaning, by being ill coupled, that it is a hard matter to avoid them; for having been obtruded upon youth in the schools (by fuch as make it, I think, their business there), as it is expreffed by the best poet, With terms to charm the weak, and pofe the wife, they grow up with them, and gaining reputation with the ignorant, are not easily fhaken off. To this palpable darknefs, I may alfo add the ambitious obfcurity of expreffing more than is perfectly conceived, or perfect conception in fewer words than it requires; which expreffions, though they have had the honour to be called strong lines, are indeed no better than riddles, and not only to the reader, but alio (after a little time) to the writer himself dark and troublesome. To the property of exprethon I refer, that clearnefs of memory, by which a poet, when he hathi once introduced any perfon whatsoever (peaking in his poem, maintaineth in him to the end the fame character he gave him in the beginning; the variation whereof is à change of pace, that argues the poet tired. Of the indecencies of an heroic poem, the moft remarkable are thofe that thow difproportion either between the perfons and their actions, or between the manners of the poet and the poem. Of the first kind is the uncomeliness of reprefenting in great perfons the inhuman vice of cruelty, or the fordid vice of luft and drunkennefs. To fuck parts as thofe the ancient approved poets thought it fit to fuborn, not the perfous of men, but of monsters and beaftly giants, fuch as Polyphemus, Cacus, and the Centaurs. For it is fuppofed, å mufe, when she is invoked to fing a fong of that nature, fhould maidenly advife the poet, to fet fuch perfons to fing their own vices upon the ftage, for it is not so unseemly in a tragedy. Of the fame kind it is to reprefent fcurrility, or any action or language that moveth much laughter. The delight of an epic poem confifteth not in mirth, but admiration. Mirth and laughter is proper to comedy and fatire. Great perfons that have their minds employed on great defigns, have not leifurt enough to laugh, and are pleased with the contemplation of their own power and virtues, fo as they need not the infirmities and vices of other men to recommend themselves to their own favour by comparifon, as all men do when they laugh. Of the fecond kind, where the disproportion is between the poet, and the perfons of his poem, one is in the dialect of the inferior fort of people, which is always different from the language of the court. Another is to derive the illuftration of any thing, from fuch metaphors of comparisons as cannot come into mens thoughts, but by mean converfation, and experience of hum ble or evil arts, which the perfon of an epic poem cannot be thought acquainted with. From knowing much proceedeth the admirable variety and novelty of metaphors and fimilitudes, which are not poffible to be lighted on in the com pass of a narrow knowledge. And the want where of compelleth a writer to expreffions that are eis ther defaced by time, or fullied with vulgar or long ufe. For the phrafes of poefy, as the airs of ma fic, with often hearing become infipid, the reader having no more fenfe of their force than our Ref is fenfible of the bones that fuftain it. As thé variety of impreffion, fo alfo does the fente of lanfense we have of bodies confifteth in change and guage in the variety and changeable ufe of words. mean not in the affectation of words newly brought home from travel, but in new (and with all fignificant) translation to our purposes of thofe that be already received, and in far fetched (but withal, apt, inftructive and comely) fimilitudes. Having thus (I hope) avoided the firft exception gainst the incompetency of my judgment, I am but little moved with the fecond, which is of being bribed by the honour you have done me by attributing in your preface fomewhat to my judgment; for I have ufed your judgment no lefs in many things of mine, which coming to light will thereby appear the better, and fo you have your bribe again. Having thus made way for the admiftion of my teftimony, I give it briefly thus; I never yet faw poem that had fo much shape of art, health of morality, and vigour and beauty of expreflion as this of yours: And but for the clamour of the multi-wifer to-morrow than to-day. tude, that hide their envy of the prefent under a reverence of antiquity, I fhould fay further, that it would laft as long as either the Eneid, or Iliad, but for one disadvantage; and the difadvantage is this: the languages of the Greeks and Romans (by their colonies and conquefts) have put off fleth and blood, and are become immutable, which none of the modern tongues are like to be. I honour antiquity, but that which is commonly called old time, is young time. The glory of antiquity is due, not to the dead, but to the aged. 785 time, but fometimes of the exceffes of youth and not a returning to, but a continual ftay with childbrood. For they that wanting the curiofity of turmithin their memories with the rarities of nature in their youth, and pats their time in makin provifion only for their eafe, and fenfual delight. are children ftill, at what years foever; as they that coming into a populous city, never going out of Their inn, are ftrangers ftill, how long foever they have been there. Thirdly, There is no reafon for any man to think himself wiler to-day than yefter. day, which does not equally convince he fall be Fourthly, You will be forced to change your opinion hereafter when you are old; and in the mean time you difcredit all I have faid before in your commendation, because I am old already, But no more of this I believe (Sir,) you have seen a curious kind of perfpective, where he that looks through a short hollow pipe, upon a picture containing divers figures, fees none of thofe that are there painted, but fome one perfon made up of their parts, con veyed to the eye by the artificial cutting of a glass. I find in my imagination an effect not unlike it from your poem. The virtues you diftribute there amongft fo many noble perfons, reprefent (in the reading) the image but of one man's virtue to my fancy, which is your own; and that fo deeply im And now, whilst I think on it, give me leave with a fhort difcord to fweeten the harmony of the approaching clofe. I have nothing to object again your poem, but diffent only from iomething in your preface, founding to the prejudice of age. It is commonly faid, that old age is a return to child-printed, as to ftay for ever there, and govern all hood, which, methinks, you infift on fo long, as if you defired it fhould be believed. That is the note I mean to shake a little. That faying, meant only of the weaknefs of body, was wreited to the weakness of mind, by froward children, weary of the controulment of their parents, maiters, and other admonitors. Secondly, The dotage and child- | Libnefs they afcribe to age is never the effect of the reft of my thoughts and affections in the way of honouring and ferving you, to the utmost of my power, that am, (SIR,) Your mot humble and obedient fervant, VOL. IV: Whom both examples made of war's high art, XXVIII Yet, for full fame (as Trine Fame's judge reports) In peaceful cities, and in fighting fields. The Duke (as reftlefs as his fame in war) With martial toil could Ofwald weary make; XXXVIII. Him as their founder cities did adore; The court he knew to fteer in ftorms of state; And after force the victors to their fate. In camps now chiefly liv'd, where he did aim |