THe following Verses seem so bold in the design, and so much bolder in the execution, that tho I have made use of all the little Iudgment I had to distinguish this boldness from such horrible extravagancies as have been lately so falsly and unreasona­bly laid to my charge, yet lest some people should conclude from a bare appearance that I have gone too far, it will not be amiss to shew what the Ode and its Character is in general what Pin­dar and his manner was in particular, and how far it may be convenient to imitate him in our Age, and in our Language and Climate. L'Ode (says Rapin) doit auoir autant de no­blesse, d' elevation, & d'emportment, que l' eglogue a de simplicite, de pudeur, & de modestie. Ce n'est pas seule­ment par son Esprit qu'elle est grande, c'est aussi par sa matiere. Car elle s'occupe a chanter les louanges des­dieux, & a celebrer les actions les plus glorieuses des hommes. Ainsi elle demande pour soutenir toute la Ma­jeste de son charactere, un naturel eleve, un esprit grand, une imagination hardie, une expression noble & eclatante mais pure & correcte. Tout ce que l'art a de vivacite par ses figures, n'est pas suffisant, pour eleuer l'Ode autant que demande son charactere. The Ode (says Rapin) ought to have as much greatness, elevation and violence, as the Eglogue is oblig'd to have modesty, restraint and simpli­city. It is not only great by the sublimeness of its Spirit, but by the greatness of its Subjects. For it is made use of to sing the praises of gods, and to celebrate the most glrious actions of men. So that it requires, to keep up all [Page] that majesty that belongs to its character, a great wit, an exalted genius, a daring imagination, and at once a pure and a noble and sounding expression. All the vivacity that art can supply by its most glaring figures is hardly suffici­ent to exalt the Ode so much as its character requires. Thus far goes Rapin; and we may conclude from the words of that famous Critic, that the Ode ought to have as much bold­ness, elevation and majesty, as Epic Poetry it self; but then it is certain that it ought to have more vehemence, more tran­sport and more enthusiasm. The reason is evident, For the De­sign of the Ode (I mean upon great occasions) is, like that of Heroic Poetry, to move the Reader, and cause in him admiration. Now by Heroic Poetry, the Readers mind is exalted gradually, with a more sedate and compos'd Majesty; but the Ode, by reason of the shortness of its compass, is oblig'd to fly into tran­sport at first, and to make use immediately of all its fury, and its most violent efforts, or else it would want time to work its effect.

Thus Virgil begins his Aeneis calmly and modestly, whereas the greatest thought in one of the noblest Odes of Horace.

Which I have imitated in my eleventh Stanza is in his very first. Let us now consider the Character of Pindar, which we may have from the same Rapin, and which will include the character too of his Wri [...]ings. Il est grand dans ses desseins, vaste dans ses pensees, hardy dans ses imaginations, heu­reux dans ses expressions, eloquent dans ses discours. He is great in his designs (says Rapin) vast in his Ideas, daring in his Images, happy in his expression, and eloquent in his discourse.

But here Rapin falls short of his character, and leaves out some of his most considerable qualities, which may be supply'd from one divine Stanza which Horace has writ in his Praise.

Which in English Poetical paraphrastick Prose is thus. As a stream that is listed above its usual banks by the in­flux of celestial waters, comes rowling headlong from some Mountains Top, so Pindar rais'd by influence divine, ev'n above his own exalted Genius; grows vehement, swells, and ferments with fury, then precipitately flows with a mighty sound, and knows no bounds to his impetuous course.

The Reader will easily discern that here are some great qua­lities conspicuous in Pindar, which Rapin seems not to take notice of. Here is his vehemence, his impetuousness, and the magnificent sounds of his numbers; and here is another thing which is the result of the rest, and that is something dreadful, something which terribly shakes us, at the very same time it transports us. There remains some other things which all the World has observ'd in Pindar, and that is, his affected digressions, his perpetual rambles, and his sudden and unex­pected returns. But 'tis now time to consider how far he may be imitated in our Language and Climate. An English Writer may endeavour to imitate him in several of his greatest quali­ties, by the Genius of our Nation, which is bold and sublime, as Mr. Waller has observ'd. But then he ought to be discreet in his boldness; for our Language is not capable of some of the most violent figures of Pindar; and in aiming at two of his principal qualities, which are his Sublimity and his Magnifi­cence, he ought carefully to avoid two things, and those are Fustian and superfluity of Epithetes. Now 'tis the easiest thing in the World for a man to know whether he has avoided them, if he has but sensible Friends. Let him consult them, and ob­serve whether his Verses strike and warm them or not. Where [Page] they do warm them and strike them, it may serve for an eter­nal rule, that there can be no Fustian, for a man of Sense must have a very fantastick opinion of himself, if he thinks that the false Sublime can warm him. Fustian is to such a one the coldest thing in the World. For I take it to proceed only from an Impotent effort of the mind to rise, when it wants both warmth and force to take its flight with vigour. Now as Verses that seem warm to a man of sense can never contain any Fusti­an, so the same rule may serve for superfluous Epithetes. For nothing makes Versifying colder than a clog of superfluous Epi­thetes. Epithetes are execrable, where they are not necessary, or at least convenient. And they can never be necessary, but where they add to the Thought something which ought to be added; and they can never be convenient, but where they give force to the Expression, or grace or perspicuity. Words are to Thought, what Flesh is to the human Soul; now Flesh encreasing to such a degree, imparts Comeliness, and perhaps Majesty; but swelling beyond it, it brings Deformity and Im­potence, and becomes a clog to the Mind. And as in a Body where the Soul performs all its functions freely, there cannot be too much Flesh, so in a work of the Mind, where there is a free Spirit, there cannot be too much Expression. But to re­turn to the business, from which I may be said to have in some measure digress'd. As we ought not to imitate Pindar in the boldness of some of his figures, so neither in the wildness of his frequent digressions; as Mr. Cowley has imitated him. For the English Reader, generally speaking, not having half the degree of Fire which the Grecians had, nor Spirits so strangely volatile, cannot immediately Sympathize with an Author in his sudden and impetuous starts from his subject; nor discern in a moment the almost imperceptible connexion between the Digression and the principal matter. Experience is a proof of what I have said. For the generality of Readers, nay even some who are Men of Wit, are declar'd Enemies to the Olympick, and the Neme­an Ode of Pindar, which Mr. Cowley has so admirably made our own; and the reasons which they give, are the length and [Page] wildness of the Digressions. But now since I have made men­tion of that great man, I beg leave to take notice of some other errors which he appears to have been guilty of in his imi­tations of Pindar. The one is an affectation of pointed Wit: For all points in a serious subject are little, and cold, and weak and wanton; whereas the Ode ought to be by its character, strong, and warm, and grave, and great, and exalted. The second is his want of Design in some of his Pindarick Odes. The third is the Neglect of his Style, which seems in several places not to have Pomp and Majesty enough to answer the sublimeness of Pindar's Genius. The fourth is the frequent loosing his Rhime, and the roughness of his Versification. I have taken care to decline his errors as far as my little capacity would give me leave. And I thought my self the more oblig'd to avoid his faults, because I am very sensible, that I am far from having his excellencies which are his fire and his mighty Spirit. In the writing these Pindarick Verses, I had still Milton in my Eye, and was resolv'd to imitate him as far as it could be done without receeding from Pindar's manner. They have several great qualities common to both, and among the rest, vehe­mence, elevation, and a terrible Majesty; qualities which are far above me, but the violent desire I had to show, how I honour the Memory of the great Queen that is gone, made me insolently resolve to aspire to them. How I have succeeded I must leave to the Reader▪ I leave the following Verses to his Iustice. For eve­ry Writer sooner or later will be sure to have Iustice done him. If these Verses are of Heav'n, they will be sure to stand, no Malice of Man can hurt or suppress them; but if they are human they will fall, no mortal aid can support them. Debemur morti nos nostraque. Of us and ours Death has the sure reversion: But Genius is a sacred beam of Divinity respected by the grim Destroyer.