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Now to thy gentle shadow all are shrunk,
All melted down in pension, or in punk!
So K*, so B**, sneak'd into the grave,
A monarch's half, and half a harlot's slave.
Poor W**, nipp'd in folly's broadest bloom,
Who praises now? his chaplain on his tomb.
Then take them all, oh take them to thy breast,
Thy Magus, goddess! shall perform the rest.'
With that, a wizard old his cup extends;
Which whoso tastes, forgets his former friends.
Sire, ancestors, himself. One casts his eyes
Up to a star, and like Endymion dies:
A feather, shooting from another's head,
Extracts his brain; and principle is fled;
Lost is his God, his country, every thing;
And nothing left but homage to a king!
The vulgar herd turn off to roll with hogs,
To run with horses, or to hunt with dogs;
But, sad example! never to escape
Their infamy, still keep the human shape.

But she, good goddess, sent to every child
Firm impudence, or stupefaction mild;
And straight succeeded, leaving shade no room,
Cibberian forehead, or Cimmerian gloom.

Kind self-conceit to some her glass applies,
Which no one looks in with another's eyes;
But, as the flatterer or dependant paint,
Beholds himself a patriot, chief, or saint.
On others, interest her gay livery flings,
Interest, that waves on party-colour'd wings:
Turn'd to the sun, she casts a thousand dyes,
And, as she turns, the colours fall or rise.

REMARKS.

Others the syren sisters warble round,
510 And empty heads console with empty sound.
No more, alas! the voice of fame they hear,
The balm of Dulness trickling in their ear.
Great C**, H**, P**, R**, K*,

Why all your toils? your sons have learn'd to sing.
How quick ambition hastes to ridicule !
The sire is made a peer, the son a fool.

On some, a priest succinct in amice white
Attends; all flesh is nothing in his sight!

Beeves, at his touch, at once to jelly turn,
520 And the huge boar is shrunk into an urn:

550

The board with specious miracles he loads,
Turns hares to larks, and pigeons into toads
Another (for in all what one can shine?)
Explains the seve and verdeur of the vine.
What cannot copious sacrifice atone?
Thy truffles, Perigord! thy hams, Bayonne?
With French libation, and Italian strain,
Wash Bladen white, and expiate Hay's stain. 560
Knight lifts the head: for what are crowds undone,

530 To three essential partridges in one?

510

Ver. 517. With that, a wizard old, &c.] Here beginneth the celebration of the greater mysterics of the goddess, which the poet, in his invocation, ver. 5, promised to sing.

|Gone every blush, and silent all reproach,
Contending princes mount them in their coach.

Next, bidding all draw near on bended knees,
The queen confers her titles and degrees.
Her children first of more distinguish'd sort,
Who study Shakspeare at the inns of court,

REMARKS.

Ver. 553. The board with specious miracles he loads, &c.] Seriblerus seems at a loss in this place. Spretasá miracula (says he) according to Horace, were the moastrous fables of the Cyclops, Læstrygons, Scylla, &e. What relation have these to the transformation of hares into istas or of pigeons into toads? I shall tell thee. The Lasty gons spitted men upon spears as we do larks upon skowers; and the fair pigcon turned to a toad, is similar to the fur Ver. 518.-forgets his former friends.] Surely there Virgin Sey'la ending in a filthy beast. But here is the d tilittle needed the force of charms or magic to set aside a use- cuity, why pigeons in so shocking a shape should be bought less friendship. For of all the accommodations of fashiona-to a table. Hares, indeed, might be cut into larks, at a se ble life, as there are none more reputable, so there are none cond dressing, out of frugality: yet that seems no probable of so little charge as friendship. It fills up the void of life motive, when we consider the extravagance before re with a name of diguity and respect: and at the same time tioned, of dissolving whole oxen and boars into a small is ready to give place to every passion that offers to dispute of jelly; nay, it is expressly said, that all flesh is nothing in possession with it. Scribl. his sight. I have searched in Appicus, Piiny, and the feat of Trimalchio, in vain; I can only resolve it into some rysterious superstitious rite, as it is said to be done by a pr and soon after called a sacrifice, attended (as all ancient sacrifices were) with libation and song.

Ver. 523, 524. Lost is his God, his country--and nothing left but homage to a king!] So strange as this may seem to a mere English reader, the famous Mons. de la Bruyere declares it to be the character of every good subject in a monarchy: Where,' says he, there is no such thing as love! of our country, the interest, the glory, and service of the prince, supply its place.' De la Republique, chap x.

Scrill

This good scholiast, not being acquainted with med ra luxury, was ignorant that these were only the miracles of French cookery, and that particularly pigeons en crapeau

Of this duty another celebrated French author speaks in-were a common dish. deed a little more disrespectfully; which for that reason we Ver. 556. Seve and rerdeur] French terms relating to shall not translate, but give in his own words: 'L'amour de wines, which signify their flavour and poignancy.

Et je gagerois que chez le commandeur,
Villandri priseroit sa seve et sa verdeur.

Despreaut.

la patrie, le grand motif des prémiers heros, n'est plus regarde que comme une chimère; l'idée du service du roi, etendue jusqu'à l'oubli de tout autre principe, tient lieu de ce qu'on appelloit autrefois grandeur d'ame et 'fidélité.'— St. Evremont has a very pathetic letter to a nobleman in Boulainvilliers Hist. des Auciens Parlements de France, &c. disgrace, advising him to seek comfort in a good table, and Ver.29. Still keep the human shape.] The effects of particularly to be attentive to these qualities in his chamthe Magus's cup, by which is allegorized a total corruption paigne. of heart, are just contrary to that of Circe, which only repre-j Ver. 560. Bladen-Hays.] Names of gamesters. Bladen sents the sudden plunging into pleasures. Hers, therefore, is a black man. Robert Knight, Cashier of the South-Sea took away the shape, and left the human mind; his takes Company, who fled from England in 1720, (afterwards par away the mind, and leaves the human shape. doned in 1742) These lived with the utmost magnificence

Ver. 529. But she, good goddess. &c.] The only com- Paris, and kept open tables frequented by persons of the fort people can receive, must be owing in some shape or first quality in England, and even by princes of the blood of uther to Dulness; which makes some stupid, others impu-France.

Each of

Scribl.

dent, giv s self conceit to some, upon the flatterics of their Ibid. Bladen, &c.] The former note of Bladen is a black dependants, presents the false colours of interest to others, man,' is very absurd. The manuscript here is partly o'r gal busies, or amuses the rest with idle pleasures or sen-trated, and doubtless could only have been, Wash blacksuality, till they become easy under any infamy. which species is here shadowed under allegorical persons. moors white, alluding to a known proverb. Ver. 507. Ver. 52. Cibberian forehead, or Cimmerian gloom.] i. e. she communicates to them of her own virtus, or of her royal Callenges. The Cibberian forehead being to fit them for sdf conceit, self-nterest, &e, and the Cimmerian gloom, for the pleasures of opera and the table. Scribl.

Her children first of more distinguish'd sort,
Who study Shakspeare at the inns of court,]
Ill would that scholiast discharge his duty, who should
neglect to honour those whom Dulness has distinguished; ez

Impale a glow-worm, or virtu profess,
Shine in the dignity of F. R. S.
Some, deep free-masons, join the silent race
Worthy to fill Pythagoras's place:
Some botanists, or florists at the least,
Or issue members of an annual feast.
Nor pass'd the meanest unregarded: one
Rose a Gregorian, one a Gormogon:
The last, not least in honour or applause,
Isis and Cam made Doctors of her laws.

Then blessing all, Go, children of my care,
To practice now from theory repair.

All my commands are easy, short, and full :
My sons! be proud, be selfish, and be dull.
Guard my prerogative, assert my throne;
This nod confirms each privilege your own.

REMARKS.

The cap and switch be sacred to his grace;
570 With staff and pumps the marquis leads the race;
From stage to stage the licensed earl may run,
Pair'd with his fellow-charioteer the sun.
The learned baron butterflies design,

Or draw to silk Arachne's subtile line;
The judge to dance his brother sergeant call,
The senator at cricket urge the ball;
The bishop stew (pontific luxury!)

590

600

A hundred souls of turkeys in a pie;
The sturdy 'squire to Gallic masters stoop,
580 And drown his lands and manors in a soup.
Others import yet nobler arts from France,
Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
Perhaps more high some daring son may soar,
Proud to my list to add one monarch more.
And, nobly conscious, princes are but things
Born for first ministers, as slaves for kings,
Tyrant supreme! shall three estates command,
And make one mighty Dunciad of the land!'
More she had spoke, but yawn'd-All nature nods:
What mortal can resist the yawn of gods?

suffer them to lie forgotten, when their rare modesty would
have left them nameless. Let us not, therefore, overlook
the services which have been done her cause, by one Mr.
Thomas Edwards, a gentleman, as he is pleased to call him-
if, of Lincoln's-inn; but in reality, a gentleman only of Churches and chapels instantly it reach'd:
the Dancisd; or, to speak him better, in the plain language (St. James's first, for leaden G- preach'd:)

of our honest ancestors to such mushrooms, a gentleman of Then catch'd the schools; the Hall scarce kept
the last edition: who, nobly eluding the solicitude of his
careful father, very early retained himself in the cause of

awake;

Itulness against Shakspeare, and with the wit and learning The convocation gaped, but could not speak:

of his ancestor Tom Thimble in the Rehearsal, and with the air of good nature and politeness of Caliban in the Tempest, bath now happily finished the Dunce's progress, in persal abuse. For a libeller is nothing but a Grub-street critic run to seed.

REMARKS.

610

Ver. 585. The cap and switch, &c.] The goddess's poLamentable is the Dulness of these gentlemen of the Dun-litical balance of favour, in the distribution of her rewards, al. This Fungoso and his friends, who are all gentlemen, deserves our notice. It consists of joining with those hohave exclaimed much against us for reflecting his birth, in nours claimed by birth and high place, others more adapted the words, a gentleman of the last edition,' which we ho to the genius and talents of the candidates. And thus her by declare concern not his birth, but his adoption only; and great forerunner, John of Leyden, king of Munster, entered mean no more than that he is become a gentleman of the on his government by making his ancient friend and comlast etion of the Dunciad. Since gentlemen, then, are so panion, Knipperdolling, general of his horse, and hangman. prons, we think it proper to declare, that Mr. Thomas And had but fortune seconded his great schemes of refor Me, who is here said to be Mr. Thomas Edward's an-mation, it is said he would have established his whole teater, is only related to him by the Muse's side. Scrill. household on the same reasonable footing. This tribe of mcn, which Seriblerus has here so well ex

T

ed, our poet hath elsewhere admirably characterized in that happy line,

Scribl.

Ver. 500. Arachne's subtile line;] This is one of the most ingenious employments assigned, and therefore recommended only to peers of learning. Of weaving stockings of the webs of spiders, see the Phil. Trans.

A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead. For the size extends much farther than to the person who Caroled it, and takes in the whole species of those on Nera good education (to fit them for some useful and Karned profession) has been bestowed in vain. That worth-ment of sovereign princes (viz.) Achilles, Alexander, Nero;

Ver. 591. The judge to dance his brother serjeant call;] Alluding perhaps to that ancient and solemn dance, entitled, A call of sergeants.

less band

Of ever-listless loiterers, that attend

No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend; ho, with an understanding too dissipated and futile for the offs of civil life; and a heart too lumpish, narrow, and restricted for these of social, become fit for nothing; and Both wits end critics, where sense and civility are neither termed nor expect: 1.

Ver. 598. Teach kings to fiddle.] An ancient amuse

though despised by Themistocles, who was a republicar..-Make senates dance, either after their prince, or to Poin toise, or Siberia.

Ver. 606. What mortal can resist the yawn of gods?] This verse is truly Homerical; as is the conclusion of the action, where the great mother composes all, in the same manner as Minerva at the period of the Odyssey. It may, indeed, seem a very singular epitasis of a poem, to end as this does, with a great yawn; but we must consider it as the yawn of a god, and of powerful effects. It is not out of nature; most long and grave councils concluding in this very He has here provided, that in case they manner: nor without authority, the incomparable Spenser bot waken or open (as was before proposed) to a hum- having ended one of the most considerable of his works urg bird or a cockle, yet at worst they may be made free- with a roar; but then it is the roar of a lion; the effects asons; where taciturnity is the only essential qualifica-thereof are described as the catastrophe of the poem. tion, as it was the chief of the disciples of Pythagoras

Ver. 571. Some, derp free-masons, join the silent race.] The poet all along expresses a very particular concern for

tissent rare.

Ver 607. Churches and chapels, &c.] The progress of For 576. A Gregoriani, cne a Gormogon: A sort of lay- the yawn is judicious, natural, and worthy to be noted. brothers, sups fro. the roots of the free-masons. First it seizeth the churches and chapels, then catcheth the Ver. 1. Each privilege your own, &c.] This speech schools, where, though the boys be unwilling to sleep, the of Bulk ss to her sons at parting, may possibly fall short masters are not. Next Westminster hall, much more hard, of the reader's expectation; who may imagine the goddess indeed, to subdue, and not totally put to silence even by the gat give them a charge of more consequence, and, from goddess. Then the convocation, which though extremely eb a theory as is before delivered, incite them to the prac-desirous to speak, yet cannot. Even the house of comhee of something more extraordinary, than to personate mons, justly called the sense of the nation, is lost (that is to runnlag footmen, jorkeys, stage-coachmen, &c. say suspended) during the yawn; (far be it from our author

But if it be well-considered, that whatever inclination to suggest it could be lost any longer!) but it spreadeth at they might have to do mischief, her sons are generally ren-large over all the rest of the kingdom to such a degree, that dered harmless by their inability; and that it is the common Palinurus himself (though as incapable of sleeping as Jupieffect of Dulness (even in her greatest efforts) to defeat her ter) yet noddeth for a moment; the effect of which, though own design: the poet, I am persuaded, will be justified, and ever so momentary, could not but cause some relaxation, it will be allowed that these worthy persons, in their several for the time, in all public affairs. ranks, do as much as can be expected from them.

Scribl.

Ver. 610. The convocation gaped, but could not speak;]

Lost was the nation's sense, nor could be found,
While the long solemn unison went round:
Wide, and more wide, it spread o'er all the realm,
E'en Palinurus nodded at the helm ;

Before her, fancy's gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain his momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.
As one by one, at dread Medea's strain,
The sickening stars fade off the ethereal plain;
As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand oppress'd,
Closed one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
620 Art after art goes out, and all is night:

The vapour mild o'er each committee crept;
Unfinish'd treaties in each office slept;
And chiefless armies dozed out the campaign!
And navies yawn'd for orders on the main.
O muse! relate (for you can tell alone,
Wits have short memories, and dunces none)
Relate who first, who last resign'd to rest;
Whose heads she partly, whose completely bless'd:
What charms could faction, what ambition lull,
The venal quiet, and entrance the dull;

See skulking truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head!
Philosophy, that lean'd on Heaven before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.

Till drown'd was sense, and shame, and right, and Physic of metaphysic begs defence,

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And metaphysic calls for aid on sense!
See mystery to mathematics fly!

In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares morality expires.

Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restored;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall
And universal darkness buries all.

REMARKS.

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Implying a great desire so to do, as the learned scholiast on the place rightly observes. Therefore, beware, reader, lest thou take this gape for a yawn, which is attended with no desire but to go to rest, by no means the disposition of the convocation; whose melancholy case in short is this: she was, as is reported, infected with the general influence of the goddess: aud while she was yawning carelessly at her ease, goareth again to the skies. As prophecy hath ever been onn a wanton courtier took her at advantage, and in the very nick clapped a gag into her chops. Well, therefore, may we know her meaning by her gaping; and this distressful posture our poet here describes, just as she stands at this day, a sad example of the effects of Dulness and Malice, uncheck ed and despised.

Bentl

Ver. 615, 618. These verses were written many years ago, and may be found in the state poems of that time. So that Scriblerus is mistaken, or whoever else have imagined this poem of a fresher date.

Ver. 620. Wits have short memories,)] This seems to be the reason why the poets, when they give us a catalogue, constantly call for help on the muses, who, as the daughters of memory, are obliged not to forget any thing. So Homer,

Iliad B. II.

Πλήθων δ' ουκ αν εγω μυθήσομαι ουδ' ονομήνω,
Ει μη Ολυμπιάδες Μούσαι, Διός αιγιόχοιο
Θυγατέρες, μνησαιας

And Virgil, En. VII.

Et meministis enim, divæ, et memorare potestis:
Ad nos vix tenuis fama perlabitur aura.

But our poet had yet another reason for putting this task
upon the muse, that, all besides being asleep, she only could
relate what passed.
Scribl.

of the chief provinces of poesy, our poet here foretels from
what we feel, what we are to fear; and, in the style of other
prophets, hath used the future tense for the preterit; since
what he says shall be, is already to be seen in the writings
of some even of our most adored authors, in divinity, par-
deed, to be named in such company.
losophy, physics, metaphysics, &c. who are too good, in

Ibid. The sable throne behold] The sable thrones of Night and Chaos, here represented as advancing to extin guish the light of the sciences, in the first place blot out the colours of fancy, and damp the fire of wit, before they proceed to their work.

says,

Ver. 641. Truth to her old cavern fled,] Alluding to the saying of Democritus, that Truth lay at the bottom of a deep well, from whence he had drawn her;' though Butler 'He first put her in, before he drew her out." Ver. 649. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires Blushing as well at the memory of the past overflow of Dub ness, when the barbarous learning of so many ages was wholly employed in corrupting the simplicity, and defing the purity of religion, as at the view of these her false supports in the present; of which it would be endless to recoust the particulars. However, amidst the extinction of all other lights, she is said only to withdraw hers! as hers alone in its own nature is unextinguishable and eternal.

Ver. 624. The venal quiet, and, &c.] It were a problem Ver. 650. And unawares morality expires.] It appears worthy the solution of Mr. Ralph and his patron, who had from hence that our poet was of very different sentiments lights that we know nothing of, which required the greatest from the author of the Characteristics, who has written 4 effort of our goddess's power-to entrance the dull, or to formal treatise on virtue, to prove it not only real, but cura quiet the venal. For though the venal may be more unruly ble without the support of religon. The word Unawares than the dull, yet, on the other hand, it demands a much alludes to the confidence of those men, who suppose that greater expense of her virtue to entrance than barely to morality would flourish best without it, and consequently to Scribl. quiet. the surprise such would be in (if any such there are) who, indeed, love virtue, and yet do all they can to root out the religion of their country.

Ver. 629. She comes! she comes! &c.] Here the muse, ike Jove's eagle, after a sudden stoop at ignoble game,

THE

ILIAD OF HOMER,

TRANSLATED BY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ.

PREFACE.

HOMER is universally allowed to have had the are not coldly informed of what was said or done as greatest invention of any writer whatever. The from a third person; the reader is hurried out of praise of judgment Virgil has justly contested with himself by the force of the poet's imagination, and him, and others may have their pretensions as to par- turns in one place to a hearer, in another to a specticular excellences; but his invention remains yet tator. The course of his verses resembles that of the unrivalled. Nor is it a wonder if he has ever been army he describes,

acknowledged the greatest of poets, who most excelled in that which is the very foundation of poetry.

Οι δ' αρ' ίσαν, ώσει τε πυρί χθων πασα νεμοιτο.

It is the invention that in different degrees distin-They pour along like a fire that sweeps the whole guishes all great geniuses: the utmost stretch of earth before it.' It is, however, remarkable that his human study, learning, and industry, which masters fancy which is every where vigorous, is not discoevery thing besides, can never attain to this. It fur-vered immediately at the beginning of his poem in its nishes Art with all her materials, and without it Judg-fullest splendour: it grows in the progress both upon ment itself can at best but steal wisely: for Art is himself and others, and becomes on fire, like a chaonly like a prudent steward, that lives on managing riot-wheel, by its own rapidity. Exact disposition, the riches of Nature. Whatever praises may be just thought, correct elocution, polished numbers, given to works of judgment, there is not even a single may have been found in a thousand; but this poetic beauty in them to which the invention must not con- fire, this 'vivida vis animi,' in a very few. Even in tribute: as in the most regular gardens, Art can only works where all those are imperfect or neglected, reduce the beauties of Nature to more regularity, and this can overpower criticism, and make us admire such a figure, which the common eye may bet- even while we disapprove. Nay, where this appears, ter take in, and is therefore more entertained with. though attended with absurdities, it brightens all the And perhaps the reason why common critics are in- rubbish about it, till we see nothing but its own splenclined to prefer a judicious and methodical genius to dour. This fire is discerned in Virgil, but discerned a great and fruitful one, is, because they find it easier as through a glass, reflected from Homer, more shifor themselves to pursue their observations through ning than fierce, but every where equal and constant : an uniform and bounded walk of Art, than to com- in Lucian and Statius it bursts out in sudden, short, prehend the vast and various extent of Nature. and interrupted flashes: in Milton it glows like a

Our author's work is a wild Paradise, where, if we furnace kept up to an uncommon ardour by the force cannot see all the beauties so distinctly as in an or- of art: in Shakspeare, it strikes before we are aware, dered garden, it is only because the number of them like an accidental fire from heaven; but in Homer, is infinitely greater. It is like a copious nursery, and in him only, it burns every where clearly, and which contains the seeds and first productions of every where irresistibly.

every kind, out of which those who followed him I shall here endeavour to show how this vast inhave but selected some particular plants, each accor- vention exerts itself in a manner superior to that of cording to his fancy, to cultivate and beautify. If any poet, through all the main constituent parts of some things are too luxuriant, it is owing to the rich his work, as it is the great and peculiar characteristic ness of the soil; and if others are not arrived to per- which distinguishes him from all other authors. fection or maturity, it is only because they are over- This strong and ruling faculty was like a powerful run and oppressed by those of a stronger nature. star, which, in the violence of its course, drew all It is to the strength of this amazing invention we things within its vortex. It seemed not enough to are to attribute that unequalled fire and rapture which have taken in the whole circle of arts, and the whole is so forcible in Homer, that no man of a true poetical compass of nature, to supply his maxims and reflecspirit is master of himself while he reads him. What tions: all the inward passions and affections of manhe writes, is of the most animated nature imaginable; kind, to furnish his characters; and all the outward every thing moves, every thing lives, and is put in forms and images of things for his descriptions; but action. If a council be called, or a battle fought, you wanting yet an ampler sphere to expatiate in, he 2 D

209

opened a new and boundless walk for his imagination, the things they shadowed! This is a field in which and created a world for himself in the invention of no succeeding poets could dispute with Homer; and fable. That which Aristotle calls 'the soul of poetry,' whatever commendations have been allowed them on was first breathed into it by Homer. I shall begin with this head, are by no means for their invention in havconsidering him in this part, as it is naturally the first; ing enlarged his circle, but for their judgment in and I speak of it both as it means the design of a having contracted it. For when the mode of learning poem, as it is taken for fiction. changed in following ages, and science was delivered Fable may be divided into the Probable, the Allegori- in a plainer manner, it then became as reasonable in cal, and the Marvellous. The Probable Fable is the the more modern poets to lay it aside, as it was in recital of such actions as, though they did not happen, Homer to make use of it. And perhaps it was no yet might in the common course of nature; or of unhappy circumstance for Virgil, that there was not such as though they did, become fables by the addi- in his time that demand upon him of so great an intional episodes and manner of telling them. Of this vention, as might be capable of furnishing all those sort is the main story of an Epic poem, the return of allegorical parts of a poem. Ulysses, the settlement of the Trojans in Italy, or the The Marvellous Fable includes whatever is superlike. That of the Iliad is the anger of Achilles, the natural, and especially the machines of the gods. He most short and single subject that ever was chosen seems the first who brought them into a system of by any poet. Yet this he has supplied with a vaster machinery for poetry, and such a one as makes its variety of incidents and events, and crowded with a greatest importance and dignity. For we find those greater number of councils, speeches, battles, and authors who have been offended at the literal notion episodes of all kinds, than are to be found even in of the gods, constantly laying their accusation against those poems whose schemes are of the utmost lati- Homer as the chief support of it. But whatever tude and irregularity. The action is hurried on with cause there might be to blame his machines in a phithe most vehement spirit, and its whole duration em-losophical or religious view, they are so perfect in ploys not so much as fifty days. Virgil, for want the poetic, that mankind have been ever since conof so warm a genius, aided himself by taking in a more tented to follow them; none have been able to enextensive subject, as well as a greater length of time, large the sphere of poetry beyond the limits he has and contracting the design of both Homer's poems set: every attempt of this nature has proved unsuc into one, which is yet but a fourth part as large as his. cessful: and after all the various changes of times The other Epic poets have used the same practice, and religions, his gods continue to this day the gods but generally carried it so far as to superinduce a mul- of poetry. tiplicity of fables, destroy the unity of action, and lose We come now to the characters of his persons; their readers in an unreasonable length of time. Nor and here we shall find no author has ever drawn so is it only in the main design that they have been un-many, with so visible and surprising a variety, or able to add to his invention, but they have followed given us such lively and affecting impressions of them. him in every episode and part of the story. If he has given a regular catalogue of an army, they all draw up their forces in the same order. If he has funeral games for Patroclus, Virgil has the same for Anchisis; and Statius (rather than omit them) de-ved in the different degrees of virtues and vices. The stroys the unity of his action for those of Archemorus. single quality of courage is wonderfully diversified If Ulysses visit the shades, the Æneas of Virgil, and in the several characters of the Iliad. That of Achil Scipio of Sillus, are sent after him. If he be detained les is furious and untractable; that of Diomede forfrom his return by the allurements of Calypso, so is ward, yet listening to advice and subject to command; Eneas by Dido, and Rinaldo by Armida. If Achil- that of Ajax is heavy, and self-confiding; of Hector, les be absent from the army on the score of a quar-active and vigilant: the courage of Agamemnon is rel through half the poem, Rinaldo must absent him- inspirited by love of empire and ambition; that of self just as long on the like account. If he gives his Menelaus mixed with softness and tenderness for hero a suit of celestial armour, Virgil and Tasso his people: we find in Idomenus a plain direct solmake the same present to theirs. Virgil has not only dier; in Sarpedon a gallant and generous one. Not observed this close imitation of Homer, but, where he is this judicious and astonishing diversity to be found had not led the way, supplied the want from other only in the principal quality which constitutes the Greek authors. Thus the story of Simon and the main of each character, but even in the under part of taking of Troy was copied (says Macrobius) almost it, to which he takes care to give a tincture of that word for word from Pisander, as the loves of Dido principal one. For example, the main characters of and Æneas are taken from those of Medea and Ja- Ulysses and Nestor consist in wisdom; and they are son in Apollonius, and several others in the same distinct in this, that the wisdom of one is artificial and

manner.

Every one has something so singularly his own, that no painter could have distinguished them more by their features than the poet has by their manners. Nothing can be more exact than the distinctions he has obser

various; of the other, natural, open, and regular. But To proceed to the Allegorical Fable: if we reflect they have, besides, characters of courage, and this upon those innumerable knowledges, those secrets of quality also takes a different turn in each from the ditnature and physical philosophy, which Homer is gen- ference of his prudence: for one in the war depends erally supposed to have wrapped up in his allegories, still upon caution, the other upon experience. It what a new and ample scene of wonder may this would be endless to produce instances of these kinds consideration afford us! how fertile will that imagi- The characters of Virgil are far from striking us in nation appear, which was able to clothe all the pro- this open manner; they lie in a great degree hidden perties of elements, the qualifications of the mind, the and undistinguished, and where they are marked most virtues and vices, in forms and persons; and to in- evidently, affect us not in proportion to those of Hotroduce them into actions agreeable to the nature of mer. His characters of valour are much alike: even

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