e? ?a? ta a??a ? e? ??????e?, a??a ???G??O????S ?e t?? ????t??

fa??eta?. De Poet. c. 13. Upon the whole therefore, Didactic or Ethical Poetry is the only species in which Imagination acts but a secondary part, because it is unquestionably the business of reason to fix upon the most forcible arguments, as well as to throw them into the happiest disposition. We have seen however, in some late performances, what superior advantages this branch of the Art receives from a just and proper infusion of the poetic idioms.]

When your Lordship reflects on the Nature and End of Lyric Poetry, it will appear to be at least as much characterised by the Graces of ornament as any other species whatever. We have already seen that the Ode was early consecrated to the purposes of Religion, and that it was intended to raise Admiration by extolling the attributes of the Supreme Being. On a subject of this nature the Poet probably thought, that sublime and exuberant imagery was necessary to support the grandeur of those sentiments which were naturally suggested to his mind[58]. Even when these original topics were laid aside, and the Lyric Muse acted in another sphere, her strains were still employed, either to commemorate the actions of Deified Heroes, or to record the exploits of persons whom rank and abilities rendered eminently conspicuous.

[Footnote 58: For this reason, says an ingenious and learned Critic, L'Ode monte dans les Cieux, pour y emp.r.o.nter ses images et ses comparaisons du tonnerre, des astres, et des Dieux memes, &c.

Reflex. Crit. Vol. I. Sect. 33.]

All these subjects afford a n.o.ble field for the play of imagination, and it is a certain truth that the purity of composition is generally defective, in proportion to that degree of sublimity at which the Poet is capable of arriving[59]. Great objects are apt to confound and dazzle the imagination. In proportion as this faculty expands to take them in, its power of conceiving them distinctly becomes less adequate to the subject; and when the mind is overwrought and drained as it were of sentiment, it is no wonder that we find it sometimes attempting to repair this loss, by subst.i.tuting in the room of true sublimity an affected pomp and exuberance of expression.

[Footnote 59: ??? de ??da e? ?? a? ?pe???a? e?e???? f?sa?

???sta ?a?a?a?. ?? ?a? e? pa?ta a???e?, ???d???? s????t?t??? e?

de t??? e?e?es?? ?spe? e? t??? a?a? p???t???, e??a? te ??? ?a?

pa?a???????e???. ?? p?te ?de t??t? ?a? a?a??a???s??, t? ta? e?

ta{pe??}a? ?a? esa? f?se?? d?a t? ?da? pa?a???d??e?e?? ?de ef?es?a? t?? a????, adaa?t?t?? ?? ep? t? p??? ?a? asfa?este?a?

d?afe?e??. Longin. de Sublim. Sect. 33.]

That we may conceive more fully the propriety of this observation with regard to Lyric Poetry, I shall now proceed to enquire what part Imagination naturally claims in the composition of the Ode, and what are the errors into which the Poet is most ready to be betrayed.

As to the first, I need not tell your Lordship, that whatever Art proposeth as an ultimate end to excite Admiration, must owe its princ.i.p.al excellence to that Faculty of the mind which delights to contemplate the sublime and the wonderful. This indeed may be called the sphere, in which Imagination peculiarly predominates. When we attempt, even in the course of conversation, to paint any object whose magnificence hath made a strong impression upon the memory, we naturally adopt the boldest and most forcible epithets we can think of, to convey our own idea as compleatly as possible to the mind of another. We are prompted by a powerful propensity to retouch our description again and again, we select the most apposite images to animate our expression; in short, we fall without perceiving it, into the stile and figures of poetry. If then Admiration produceth such an effect upon the mind in the more common occurrences of life, we may conceive the superior influence which it must have upon the imagination of a Poet, when it is wound up to the highest pitch, and is placing a great object in every point of light by which its excellence may most conspicuously appear. It will at least be obvious, that in such a situation the feelings of the heart must be more intensely animated than in any other, not only because Genius is supposed to be the Parent of Sensibility, but as the person who is possessed of this quality exerts the full force of his talents and art to produce one particular effect. He endeavours (as Longinus expresseth it) "not to be seen himself, but to place the idea which he hath formed before the very eye of another[60]."

[Footnote 60: De Sublim. Sect. 32.]

It is a common mistake among people who have not examined this subject, to suppose that a Poet may with greater ease excite Admiration when his theme is sublime, than when it is such as we have been more accustomed to contemplate[61]. This opinion is indeed plausible at the first view, because it may be said that we go half-way to meet that Author, who proposeth to reach an end by means which have an apparent probability to effectuate it; but it will appear upon reflection, that this very circ.u.mstance, instead of being serviceable, is in reality detrimental to the Poet.

[Footnote 61: The reader will observe, that Admiration through the whole of this part of the Essay is taken in the largest sense, as including a considerable degree of wonder, which is however a distinct feeling. The former is excited princ.i.p.ally by the sublime; the latter by the new and uncommon. These feelings are united, when a subject of moderate dignity is treated in a sublime manner. See the Essay, p. 47, 48.]

Admiration is a pa.s.sion which can never be excited in any person, unless when there is something great and astonishing, either in the general disposition of a work or in some of the separate members of which it is formed. Thus we admire a whole piece, when we observe that the parts which compose it are placed in a striking and uncommon combination, and we even consider one happy stroke as an indication of genius in the Artist. It frequently happens that the subject of a Poem is of such a nature, as that its most essential members cannot be set in any light distinct from that in which custom and experience has led us to consider them. Thus when the Poet addressed an Hymn to Jupiter, Diana, or Apollo, he could not be ignorant that his readers were well apprised of the general manner, in which it was necessary to treat of these Personages, and that they would have been offended, if he had presumed to differ in any material point from the opinions handed down by traditionary evidence. It was therefore necessary, that the Poet should manage a subject of this kind in the same manner as Rubens and Caypel have painted the Crucifixion, by either varying _the att.i.tude_ of the princ.i.p.al object to make it more sublime and admirable, or by rendering some _inferior figure_ picturesque and animated which had escaped the notice of his Predecessors. When therefore a sublime object is not shown in some great and uncommon point of view, the Poet sinks in our esteem as much as he would have risen in it, if we had found his Genius equal to his Ambition.

As I have already borrowed one ill.u.s.tration from painting, permit me to recall to your Lordship's memory, that n.o.ble figure by which the Church of Rome permitted Raphael to represent the Eternal Father, a figure which has always been considered as one of the greatest ornaments of the galleries of the Vatican[62]. Any person may conclude that the difficulty of succeeding in this great attempt, must have bore some proportion to the _temerity_ (shall we call it) of venturing to design it. If this celebrated Artist had failed of throwing into that figure an Air wholly extraordinary, his Design would either have been considered as rash, or his imagination censured as deficient.

[Footnote 62: Raphael is said to have stolen the expression of this figure from Michael Angelo, who was at work on the same subject in another part of the Vatican. We are indebted for this curious anecdote to the ingenious Abbe du Bos. See his Reflex.

Crit. sur la Poes. et la Peint. Vol. II.]

On the contrary, the Poet who chuseth a more unpromising subject, and displays an unexpected fertility of invention in his manner of treating it, is admired as an Original Genius, and the perusal of his work excites in our mind the most agreeable mixture of surprize and pleasure.

It must immediately occur to any reader who peruseth the Hymn of Callimachus to Jupiter, that the subject was too great to be properly managed by the correct and elegant genius of that writer. Instead of enlarging (as we should have naturally expected) on any particular perfection of this Supreme Deity, or even of enumerating in a poetical manner the attributes which were commonly ascribed to Him, he entertains us coldly with traditionary stories about His birth and education; and the sublime part of his subject is either wholly omitted, or superficially pa.s.sed over. Thus speaking of the bird of Jove, he says only,

T??a? d' ?????? e?' ?pe?????? a??e?e?t??, S?? te?a??? ?t' e??s? f????? e?de??a fa?????[63].

Thy bird, celestial messenger, who bears Thy mandate thro' the sky;--O be his flight Propitious to my friends!

[Footnote 63: Callim. Hymn. in Jov. a lin. 68.]

Pindar introduceth this King of the feathered race in a much n.o.bler and more animated manner. He exhibits with true poetic enthusiasm, as an instance of the power of harmony, the following vivid picture.

-- -- -- -- -- e?- de? a?a s?apt? ???? a?et??, ?- ?e?a? pte???' af?te??- ?e? ?a?a?e??, ????? a?????? -- -- -- -- ? de ???ss??

????? ??t?? a???e?, tea??

?epa?s? ?atas??e???[64].

The birds fierce Monarch drops his vengeful ire; Perch'd on the sceptre of the Olympian King, The thrilling darts of harmony he feels, And indolently hangs his rapid wing, While gentle sleep his closing eye-lids seals; And o'er his heaving limbs, in loose array To every balmy gale the ruffling feathers play. WEST.

[Footnote 64: Pind. Pyth. I.]

Homer never touches this sublime subject, without employing the utmost reach of his invention to excite admiration in his reader.

?e?? de ?at?? ?d??e? e?t????? ??a ?a? ?pp???

???p??d' ed???e, ?e?? d' e?e?et? ??????.

?? de ?a? ?pp??? e? ??se ???t?? ????s??a???

??ata d' a????s? t??e?, ?ata ??ta peta.s.sa?.

??t?? de ???se??? ep? ?????? e????pa ?e??

??et?, t? de ?p? p?ss? e?a? pe?e??et' ???p??[65].

---- The Thund'rer meditates his flight From Ida's summits to th' Olympian height.

Swifter than thought the wheels instinctive fly, Flame thro' the vast of air, and reach the sky.

'Twas Neptune's charge his coursers to unbrace, And fix the car on its immortal base, &c.

He whose all-conscious eyes the world behold, Th' eternal Thunderer, sate thron'd in gold.

High heav'n the footstool of his feet He makes, And wide beneath him all Olympus shakes. POPE.

[Footnote 65: Iliad. Lib. VIII.]

I have mentioned these examples, as they shew the light in which a great object will be contemplated by a man of genius; and as the reader will observe that our admiration is not merely excited by the dignity of the theme, but that it results from the great and uncommon circ.u.mstances which are happily thrown into the description. Pindar, no doubt, found it a much easier task to raise this pa.s.sion in favour of Theron, whom he artfully introduceth to the reader's attention, after enquiring of his Muse what G.o.d or what distinguished Heroe he should attempt to celebrate[66].

[Footnote 66: This is one of the most artful and best conducted of Pindar's Odes. The introduction is abrupt and spirited, and the Heroe of the Poem is shown to great advantage.

??a??f?????e? ????

t??a ?e??, t??' ???a, t??a d' a?d?a ?e?ad?s?e?; ?t?? p?sa e? ?????

???p?ada d' esta- se? ??a??e??, &c.

T????a de tet?a???a?

??e?a ?e?af????

?e????te??, ?pe &c. Pind. Olym. 2da.]

It is however obvious, from what hath been advanced on this subject, that whatever may be the nature of the theme on which the Poet insists, it is the business of Fancy to enliven the whole piece with those natural and animating graces which lead us to survey it with admiration.

From the whole therefore it appears, that this Faculty of the mind claims an higher share of merit in the compet.i.tion of the Ode than in any other species of Poetry; because in the other branches of this art different ends may be obtained, and different expedients may be fallen upon to gain them; but the most perfect kind of Lyric Poetry admits only of that end, to the attainment of which fertility of Imagination is indispensably requisite.

You will recollect, my Lord, a pet.i.tion laid down in the beginning of this Essay;--that "when Imagination is permitted to bestow the graces of ornament indiscriminately, sentiments are either superficial, and thinly scattered through a work, or we are obliged to search for them beneath a load of superfluous colouring." I shall now endeavour to evince the truth of this reflection, by enquiring more particularly what are the faults into which the Lyric Poet is most ready to be betrayed, by giving a loose rein to that Faculty which colours and enlivens his composition.

It may be observed then in general, that we usually judge of the Genius of a Lyric Poet by the variety of his _images_, the boldness of his _transitions_, and the picturesque vivacity of his _descriptions_.

I shall under this head trouble your Lordship with a few reflections on each of these considered separately.

By the Images which are employed in the Ode, I mean those ill.u.s.trations borrowed from _natural_ and often from _familiar_ objects, by which the Poet either clears up an obscurity, or arrests the attention, and kindles the imagination of his reader. These ill.u.s.trations have very distinct uses in the different species of poetic composition. The greatest Masters in the Epopee often introduce metaphors, which have only a general relation to the subject; and by pursuing these through a variety of circ.u.mstances, they disengage the reader's attention from the princ.i.p.al object. This indeed often becomes necessary in pieces of length, when attention begins to relax by following too closely one particular train of ideas. It requires however great judgment in the Poet to pursue this course with approbation, as he must not only fix upon metaphors which in some points have a striking similarity to the object ill.u.s.trated, but even the digressive circ.u.mstances must be so connected with it, as to exhibit a succession of sentiments which resemble, at least remotely, the subject of his Poem[67]. It must be obvious, at first view, that as the Lyric Poet cannot adopt this plea, his metaphors will always have the happiest effect, when they correspond to the object in such a manner, as to shew its compleat proportions in the fullest point of view, without including foreign and unappropriated epithets. This however is not the course which a Writer of imagination will naturally follow, unless his judgment restrains the excursions of that excentric faculty. He will, on the contrary, catch with eagerness every image which Fancy enlivens with the richest colouring, and he will contemplate the external beauty of his metaphor, rather than consider the propriety with which it is applied as an ill.u.s.tration. It is probably owing to this want of just attention to propriety, that the first Lyric Poets have left such imperfect standards to the imitation of posterity.

[Footnote 67: The reader will meet with many examples of this liberty in the Iliad, some of which Mr. Pope has judiciously selected in the notes of his translation. Milton, in the same spirit, compares Satan lying on the lake of fire, to a Leviathan slumbering on the coast of Norway; and immediately digressing from the strict points of connection, he adds, "that the mariners often mistake him for an island, and cast anchor on his side." Par.

Lost, B. II. In this ill.u.s.tration it is obvious, that though the Poet deviates from close imitation, yet he still keeps in view the general end of his subject, which is to exhibit a picture of the fallen Arch angel. See Par. Lost, B. I.]

When we examine the works of later Poets among the Ancients, we find that even those of them who are most exceptionable in other circ.u.mstances, have yet in a great measure corrected this mistake of their predecessors. In the lyric Odes of Euripides and Sophocles, the metaphors made use of are generally short, expressive, and fitted to correspond with great accuracy to the point which requires to be ill.u.s.trated[68]. Pindar is in many instances equally happy in the choice of his images, which are frequently introduced with address, and produce a very striking effect[69].

[Footnote 68: The reader may consider, as an example, of the following verses of the Ode of Sophocles to the Sun.

????a ?a? ?st' a?aa?t??