Stood vifible, among these pines his voice
I heard, here with him at this fountain talk'd;
So many grateful altars 1 would rear
Of graffy turf, and pile up every stone
Of luftre from the brook, in memory
Or monument to ages, and thereon

Offer sweet-smelling gums and fruits and flowers.
In yonder nether world where shall I feek
His bright appearances, or footsteps trace?
For though I fled him angry, yet recall'd
To life prolong'd and promis'd race I now
Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts
Of glory, and far off his steps adore.

Agreeable and well conceived fictions have alfo a good effect either in profe or verse, and always please readers of taste and judgement. Pliny the younger, in order to engage Cornelius Tacitus to follow his example, and study even when hunting, tells him, that the exercise of the body exalts the mind; and that if he took his tablets with him, he would find that Minerva delighted as much in the forefts and mountains as Diana. A fiction prettily conceived, and in few words. A kin to this is the image (or fiction of a perfon) which Milton has given us in what he calls his fong of the May morning; which is extremely beautiful, efpecially that part of it defcribing May led in by the morning ftar, and throwing from her green lap the flowers of the season.

Now the bright morning ftar, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowflip, and the pale primrose.
Hail bounteous May that doft infpire
Mirth and youth and warm defire;
Woods and groves are of thy dreffing,
Hill and dale doth boaft thy bleffing.
Thus we falute thee with our carly fong,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

But the agreeable often arifes from an oppofition, efpecially in thoughts which have two meanings; or when a perfon agitated by paffion afferts and contradicts himself almost in the fame breath, as in the fcene of Shakespear's

Romeo and Juliet, where she, to induce her lover to stay, cries,

Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she fings on yon pomgranate tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

But after a moment's reflection, the corrects herself, and replies,

It is, it is, hie hence, begone, away;

It is the lark that fings fo out of tune,

Straining harsh discords, and unpleafing sharps.

That figure which feems to deny what it advances, and in appearance contradicts itself, is, when properly applied, extremely elegant.

Cowards die many times before their deaths
The valiant never tafte of death but once.

SHAKE.

But these thoughts are to be admitted with great caution and judgment; for the partition here between wit and nonfenfe is fo very flender, that many writers have broken through it, and converted what they intended for a beauty into a blot, by presenting their readers not with a feeming contradiction, but a real one. Nor are we to fuppofe that a thought cannot be agreeable or beautiful, unless it glitters with ingenious conceits, or a play of words; for in fome cafes, beauty may confift in fimplicity alone, and be, in its place, like a plain pillar in fome building, the only proper, and therefore the best ornament. Befides, it is impoffible for a writer to be upon the fublime and the beautiful from one end of his piece to the other, nor will any fubject admit of it; fome things muft occur that require common thoughts and a common ftile; but if they did not, and it was poffible for a poet to keep up to the fame elevated ftrain, yet would he mifs of his aim, and rather difguft than please; for the mind would be deprived of the refreshment and recreation it takes in paffing from things that are excellent to thofe that are common, and of the delight which springs from furprise; neither of which it can obtain, where all things appear with undiftinguished

luftre. The poet therefore should imitate nature, who has diverfified the world with vales and mountains, rocks and lawns, trees, fruits, flowers, fmiling fields and dreary deferts, purling ftreams and horrible cascades; and, like nature too, he should place them in fuch due oppofition, that they may embellish and set off each other.

There is a third fpecies of thoughts, whofe agreeablenefs, beauty, and merit, is owing to their delicacy, and which it is easier to conceive than describe. A delicate thought is a moft excellent production, and as it were the very quinteficence of wit. These thoughts have the property of being comprised in a few words, and the whole meaning is not at first fo obvious, but feems partly concealed, that the mind of the reader might be gratified in the discovery. This little myftery, says father Bouhours, is as it were the foul of delicate thoughts; and thofe that have nothing mysterious either in their foundation or turn, but discover themselves at first fight, are not of the delicate kind, however ingenious they may be in other refpects.

Cicero, in his oration for Ligarius, tells Cæfar, that 'tis ufual for him to forget nothing but injuries.

Dr. Garth, in his dedication to Mr. Henley, fays, A man of your character can no more prevent a dedication, than he would encourage one; for merit, like a virgin's blushes, is fill moft difcovered, when it labours most to be concealed.

'Tis hard, to think well of you should be but juftice, and to tell you fo fhould be an offence: thus, rather than violate your modefty, I must be wanting to your other virtues; and to gratify one good quality, do wrong to a thousand.

Compliments that are thrown obliquely, and under the difguife of a complaint, are extremely delicate and pleasing.

If with fuch talents heav'n has bleft 'em ;
Have I not reason to deteft 'em?

Let humble Allen, with an aukward shame,
Do good by ftealth, and blush to find it fame.

SWIFT.

POPE.

But befides thefe delicate thoughts which have an inge nious turn, there are others whofe beauty depends folely on the delicacy of fentiment; as when the poet fays, that the evening dews are the tears of the sky for the loss of the fun.

I have attempted (fays a young gentleman in a letter to his miftrefs) to pursue your advice, and divert myfelf by the fubje&t you recommend to my thoughts: but it is impoffible, 1 perceive, to turn off the mind at once from an object, which it has long dewelt upon with pleasure. My heart, like a poor bird which is hunted from her neft, is fill returning to the place of its affections, and, after fome vain efforts to fly off, Jettles again where all its cares and all its tendernesses are centered. FITZOSBORN'S LETTERS.

But of this fort of delicate thoughts, enough may be feen in the paffages we have extracted from Milton, who abounds with every kind of beauty.

One true characteristic of delicate thoughts (especially af those first mentioned) is, that they are not capable of being tranflated out of one language into another, without lofing great part of their true fpirit or effential quality. And this is the cafe alfo with what we call true humour, which is like those delicate flowers that will lose their beauty, if not their being, when transplanted into a foreign climate.

The inimitable character Shakespear has drawn of Falftaff, might be understood perhaps in any other language, but would fail of the effect it has in the original; as would the defcription Butler has given us of Honour, and many other parts of his celebrated poem.

He that is valiant, and dares fight,
Tho' drubb'd, can lofe no Honour by't.
Honour's a lease for lives to come,
And cannot be extended from
The legal tenant; 'tis a chattel
Not to be forfeited in battle.
If he that is in battle flaim
Be in the bed of Honour lain,
He that is beaten may be faid
To lie in Honour's truckle-bed.

Honour in the breech is lodg'd,

As wife philofophers have judg'd,
Because a kick in that part more
Hurts Honour, than deep wounds before.

HUDIBRAS.

She too might have poifon'd the joys of my life,
With nurses, and babies, and fqualling, and ftrife;
But my wine neither nurses nor babies can bring,
And a big-bellied bottle's a mighty good thing.

But as humour is the offfpring of nature only, and not to be taught, or perhaps cultivated, by any rules, it does not fall within our compafs; for to attempt any directions for obtaining that which nature alone can beftow, would be abfurd and ridiculous.

Befides the thoughts we have already mentioned, there are others called brilliant thoughts, whofe excellency confifts in a short and lively expreffion, and which are made pleafing by a point of wit that ftrikes us by its boldness and novelty, and charms us with its ingenious and uncommon turn. Thefe thoughts may be admitted into moft of the fpecies of poetry, when introduced cautiously and with propriety but their peculiar provinces feem to be the fatire and the epigram; of which laft they are the very effence and indeed most of thofe fhining and striking thoughts which we find in our beft fatires, have, when abftractedly and separately confidered, all the effential properties of the epigram, viz. brevity, beauty, and point of wit. We fhall give a few inftances in confirmation of what we have advanced from the fatires of Dr. Young, and more may be found in the fubfequent part of this volume, in the fatires of Mr. Dryden, Mr. Pope, and others.