NOTE I. VERSE 7.

Of the several authors who have written on Epic Poetry, many of the most celebrated are more likely to confound and depress, than to enlighten and exalt the young Poetical Student. The Poe­tics of Scaliger, which are little more than a laboured panegyric of Virgil, would lead him to regard the Aeneid as the only standard of [Page 136] perfection; and the more elegant and accom­plished Vida inculcates the same pusillanimous lesson, though in spirited and harmonious verse:

[Page 137] A Critic, who lately rose to great eminence in our own country, has endeavoured by a more singular method to damp the ardour of inventive Genius, and to annihilate the hopes of all who would aspire to the praise of originality in this higher species of poetical composition. He has attempted to establish a Triumvirate in the Epic world, with a perpetuity of dominion. Every reader who is conversant with modern criticism, will perceive that I allude to the following passage in the famous Dissertation on the sixth Book of Virgil:—‘"Just as Virgil rivalled Homer, so Milton emulated both of them. He found Ho­mer possessed of the province of Morality; Virgil of Politics; and nothing left for him but that of Religion. This he seized, as aspiring to share with them in the government of the Poetic world: and, by means of the superior dignity of his sub­ject, hath gotten to the head of that Triumvirate, which took so many ages in forming. These are the three species of the Epic Poem; for its largest sphere is human action, which can be considered [Page 138] but in a moral, political, or religious view: and These the three Makers; for each of their Poems was struck out at a heat, and came to perfection from its first essay. Here then the grand scene was closed, and all farther improvements of the Epic at an end."’

I apprehend that few critical remarks contain more absurdity (to use the favourite expression of the author I have quoted) than the preceding lines. Surely Milton is himself a proof that human action is not the largest sphere of the Epic Poem; and as to Virgil, his most passionate admirers must allow, that in subject and design he is much less of an original than Camoens or Lucan. But such a critical statute of limitation, if I may call it so, is not less pernicious than absurd. To dis­figure the sphere of Imagination with these capri­cious and arbitrary zones, is an injury to science. Such Criticism, instead of giving spirit and ener­gy to the laudable ambition of a youthful Poet, can only lead him to start like Macbeth at unreal mockery, and to exclaim, when he is invited [Page 139] by Genius to the banquet, ‘"The Table's full!"’

NOTE II. VERSE 77.

For this fable, such as it is, I am indebted to a passage in Athenaeus, which the curious reader may find in the close of that fanciful and entertaining compi­ler, page 701 of Casaubon's edition.

NOTE III. VERSE 207.

I have ventured to suppose that Greece produced no worthy successor of Homer, and that her ex­ploits against the Persians were not celebrated by any Poet in a manner suitable to so sublime a sub­ject:—yet an author named Chaerilus is said to have recorded those triumphs of his country in [Page 140] verse, and to have pleased the Athenians so highly, as to obtain from them a public and pecuniary reward. He is supposed to have been a cotempo­rary of the historian Herodotus. But from the general silence of the more early Greek writers concerning the merit of this Poet, we may, I think, very fairly conjecture that his compositions were not many degrees superior to those of his unfortunate namesake, who frequented the court of Alexander the Great, and is said to have sung the exploits of his Sovereign, on the curious con­ditions of receiving a piece of gold for every good verse, and a box on the ear for every bad one. The old Scholiast on Horace, who has preserved this idle story, concludes it by saying, that the miserable Bard was beat to death in consequence of his contract. Some eminent modern Critics have indeed attempted to vindicate the reputation of the more early Chaerilus, who is supposed to be confounded, both by Horace himself, and after­wards by Scaliger, with the Chaerilus rewarded [Page 141] by Alexander. Vossius^*, in particular, appears a warm advocate in his behalf, and appeals to va­rious fragments of the ancient Bard preserved by Aristotle, Strabo, and others, and to the testimony of Plutarch in his favour. But on consulting the fragments he has referred to, they rather fortify than remove my conjecture. The scrap preser­ved by Aristotle in his Rhetoric is only half a verse, and quoted without any commendation of its author. The two citations in Strabo amount to little more. The curious reader may also find in Athenaeus an Epitaph on Sardanapalus, attri­buted to this Poet; who is mentioned by the same author as peculiarly addicted to the grosser excesses of the table.—Let us now return to that Chaerilus whom Horace has ‘"damn'd to everlasting fame."’ The judicious and elegant Roman Satirist seems remarkably unjust in paying a compliment to the poetical judgment of his pa­tron Augustus, at the expence of the Macedonian hero. Alexander appears to have possessed much [Page 142] more poetical spirit, and a higher relish for poetry, than the cold-blooded Octavius. It is peculiarly unfair, to urge his liberality to a poor Poet, as a proof that he wanted critical discernment, when he had himself so thoroughly vindicated the deli­cacy of his taste, by the enthusiastic Bon-mot, That he had rather be the Thersites of Homer than the Achilles of Chaerilus.

NOTE IV. VERSE 231.

Though Bossu is called ‘"the best explainer of Aristotle, and one of the most learned and judi­cious of modern critics,"’ by a writer for whose opinions I have much esteem, I cannot help thinking that his celebrated Essay on Epic Poetry is very ill calculated either to guide or to inspirit a young Poet. The absurdity of his advice concerning the mode of forming the fable, by chusing a moral, inventing the incidents, and then searching history for names to suit them, has been sufficiently exposed: and as to his leading [Page 143] idea, concerning the design of Homer in the com­position of the Iliad and Odyssey, I apprehend most poetical readers must feel that he is proba­bly mistaken; for it is a conjectural point, and placed beyond the possibility of decision. Perhaps few individuals differ more from each other in their modes of thinking, by the force of educa­tion and of national manners, than a modern French Critic and an early Poet of Greece; yet the former will often pretend, with the most de­cisive air, to lay open the sensorium of an ancient Bard, and to count every link in the chain of his ideas. Those who are most acquainted with the movements of imagination, will acknow­ledge the steps of this airy power to be so light and evanescent in their nature, that perhaps a Poet himself, in a few years after finishing his work, might be utterly unable to recollect the ex­act train of thought, or the various minute occur­rences, which led him to the general design, or directed him in the particular parts of his poem But, in spite of the interval of so many [Page 144] centuries, the decisive magic of criticism can call up all the shadows of departed thought that ever existed in his brain, and display, with a most astonishing clearness, the precise state of his mind in the moment of composition.

On the Odyssey Bossu remarks, ‘"Que la ve­rité qui sert de fond à cette fiction, & qui avec elle compose la fable, est, que l'absence d'une personne hors de chez soi, ou qui n'a point l'oeil à ce qui s'y fait, y cause de grands des­ordres^*."’

On the mature consideration of these two mo­ral axioms, the Critic supposes the sublime Bard to have begun his respective Poems; for Homer, continues he, ‘"^†n'avoit point d'autre dessein que de former agreablement les moeurs de ses Citoïens, en leur proposant, comme dit Horace, ce qui est utile ou pernicieux, ce qui est honnete [Page 146] ou ce qui ne l'est pas:—il n'a entrepris de raconter aucune action particuliere d'Achille ou d'Ulysse. Il a fait la fable et le dessein de ses poemes, sans penser à ces princes; & ensuite il leur a fait l'honneur de donner leurs noms aux heros qu'il avoit feints."’

The preceding remarks of this celebrated Cri­tic have been frequently admired as an ingenious conjecture, which most happily illustrates the real purpose of Homer. To me they appear so much the reverse, that if I ventured to adopt any decided opinion on a point so much darkened by the clouds of antiquity, I should rather in­cline to the idea which Bossu affects to explode, and suppose the Poems of Homer intended pa­negyrics on the very princes whom the Critic affirms he never thought of while he was de­signing the works which have made them im­mortal.

There is a striking passage on this subject in a dialogue of Plato, which I shall enlarge upon, for two reasons: 1st, As it proves that the latter [Page 147] persuasion concerning the purpose of Homer was entertained at Athens; and 2dly, Because it gives me a pleasing opportunity of supporting the learned Madame Dacier against an ill­grounded censure of a late English critic. In her Preface to the Odyssey, she asserts, that the judgment of antiquity decided in favour of the Iliad; and she appeals to part of the sentence in Plato, to which I have alluded, as a proof of her assertion. Mr. Wood, in a note to the Intro­duction of his Essay on Homer, endeavours to shew the insufficiency of this proof; and still farther, to convince us that Madame Dacier was utterly mistaken in her sense of the passage to which she appealed. If he ventures to con­tradict this learned lady, he does not however insult her with that insolent pertness with which she is frequently treated in the notes to Pope's Homer; and which, for the honour of our Eng­lish Poet, I will not suppose to be his. But though Mr. Wood endeavours to support his opinion by argument, I apprehend that he is [Page 148] himself mistaken, and that Madame Dacier is perfectly right in understanding the words of Socrates in their literal sense, without the least mixture of irony. It is true, indeed, that the aim of Socrates, in the course of the dialogue, is to ridicule the presumption and ignorance of the sophist Hippias, in the most ironical manner; but the particular speech on which Madame Dacier founds her opinion, is a plain and simple address to Eudicus, before he enters on his de­bate with the Sophist. It turns on the most simple circumstance, the truth of which Eu­dicus could hardly be ignorant of, namely, the sentiments of his own father concerning the Poems of Homer. As these sentiments are such as I believe most admirers of the ancient Bard have entertained on the point in question, I per­fectly agree with Madame Dacier in thinking that Socrates means to be literal and serious, when he says to Eudicus, ‘ [...] [Page 149] [...].’ Plat. Hip. min. edit. Serrani, tom. i. p. 363. ‘"I have heard your father Apemantus say, that the Iliad of Homer was a finer poem than his Odyssey, and as far surpassed it in excellence as the virtue of Achilles surpassed the virtue of Ulysses; for those two poems, he said, were purposely composed in honour of those two heroes: the Odyssey, to shew the virtues of Ulysses; the Iliad, those of Achilles."’ —Plato's Lesser Hippias, translated by Sydenham, page 13.

Let us now return to Bossu; whose opinion concerning the purpose of Homer we may venture to oppose, supported as it is by an ingenious in­terpretation of some ambiguous passages in the Poetics of Aristotle; and this opposition may be grounded, not so much on the sentence which I have quoted from Plato, as on the probable conduct of Epic composition in the early ages of poetry. In [Page 150] such periods as produced the talents of Virgil and of Dryden, when all the arts of refined flattery were perfectly understood, we can easily conceive that they might both be tempted to compliment the reigning monarch under the mask of such heroic names as history could supply, and their genius accommodate to their purpose. We find accordingly, that the Roman Bard is supposed to have drawn a flattering portrait of his Emperor in the character of Aeneas, and that the English Poet has, with equal ingenuity, enwrapt the dis­solute Charles the Second in the Jewish robes of King David. But in so rude an age as we must admit that of Homer to have been; when the Poet was certainly more the child of Nature than of Art; when he had no history to consult, perhaps no patron to flatter, and no critics to elude or obey; in such an age, may we not more naturally conjecture, that poetical composition was neither laboured in its form, nor deep in its design? that, instead of being the slow and sys­tematic [Page 151] product of political reasoning, it was the quick and artless offspring of a strong and vivify­ing fancy, which, brooding over the tales of tra­dition, soon raised them into such life and beauty, as must satisfy and enchant a warlike and popular audience, ever ready to listen with delight to the heroic feats of their ancestors.

If the learned Bossu appears unfortunate in his system concerning the purpose of Homer, he may be thought still more so in his attempt to analyse the Divinities of Virgil; for, to throw new light on the convention of the Gods, in the opening of the tenth Aeneid, he very seriously informs us, that ‘"^*Venus is divine mercy, or the love of God towards virtuous men, and Juno his justice."’

I cannot conclude these very free strictures on a celebrated author, without bearing a pleasing testimony to the virtues of the man.—Bossu is allowed by the biographers of his country to have been remarkable for the mildest manners and [Page 152] most amiable disposition; totally free from that imperious and bigotted attachment to speculative opinions, which the science he cultivated is so apt to produce. He endeared himself to Boileau by a generous act of friendship, that led to an intimacy between them, which was dissolved only by the death of the former, in 1680.

NOTE V. VERSE 244.

As it requires much leisure to examine, and more skill to unravel, an intricate hypothesis, twisted into a long and laboured chain of quotation and argu­ment, the Dissertation on the sixth Book of Vir­gil remained for some time unrefuted. The public very quietly acquiesced in the strange position of its author, ‘"That Aeneas's adventure to the In­fernal Shades, is no other than a figurative de­scription of his initiation into the Mysteries; and particularly a very exact one of the spectacles of the Eleusinian."’ At length a superior but anony­mous [Page 153] Critic arose, who, in one of the most judi­cious and spirited essays that our nation has pro­duced on a point of classical literature, completely overturned this ill-founded edifice, and exposed the arrogance and futility of its assuming archi­tect. The Essay I allude to is intitled "Critical Observations on the Sixth Book of the Aeneid;" printed for Elmsly, 1770: and as this little pub­lication is, I believe, no longer to be pur­chased, the curious reader may thank me for transcribing a few of its most striking passages.

Having ridiculed, with great spirit and pro­priety, Warburton's general idea of the Aeneid as a political institute, and his ill-supported assertion, that both the ancient and modern poets afforded Virgil a pattern for introducing the Mysteries in­to this famous episode, the author proceeds to ex­amine how far the Critic's hypothesis of initiation may be supported or overthrown by the text of the Poet.

Having shewn, in this spirited manner, how far the hypothesis of the Critic is inconsistent with particular passages, and with the general character of the Poet, the Essayist proceeds to al­ledge ‘"two simple reasons, which persuade him that Virgil has not revealed the secret of the Eleu­sinian mysteries: the first is his ignorance, and the [Page 160] second his discretion."’ The author then proves, by very ingenious historical arguments, 1st, That it is probable the Poet was never initiated himself; and, 2dly, That if he were so, it is more pro­bable that he would not have violated the laws both of religion and of honour, in betraying the secret of the Mysteries; particularly, as that spe­cies of profanation is mentioned with abhorrence by a cotemporary Poet:

When Horace composed the Ode which contains the preceding passage,

Such is the forcible reasoning of this ingenious and spirited writer. I have been tempted to trans­cribe these considerable portions of his Work, by an idea (perhaps an ill-founded one) that the cir­culation of his little Pamphlet has not been equal to its merit. But if it has been in any degree ne­glected by our country, it has not escaped the re­searches, [Page 162] or wanted the applause, of a learned and judicious foreigner. Professor Heyne, the late accurate and accomplished Editor of Virgil, has mentioned it in his Comments to the sixth Book of the Aeneid, with the honour it deserves. He remarks, indeed, that the Author has censured the learned Prelate with some little acrimony; ‘"Paullò acrius quam velis."’ But what lover of poetry, unbiassed by personal connection, can speak of Warburton without some marks of in­dignation? If I have also alluded to this famous Commentator with a contemptuous asperity, it arises from the persuasion that he has sullied the page of every Poet whom he pretended to illus­trate; and that he frequently degraded the useful and generous profession of Criticism into a mean instrument of personal malignity: or (to use the more forcible language of his greatest antagonist) that he ‘"invested himself in the high office of Inquisitor General and Supreme Judge of the Opinions of the Learned; which he assumed and exercised with a ferocity and despotism without [Page 163] example in the Republic of Letters, and hardly to be paralleled among the disciples of Domi­nic^*."’ It is the just lot of tyrants to be detested; and of all usurpers, the literary despot is the least excusable, as he has not the common tyrannical plea of necessity or interest to alledge in his behalf; for the prevalence of his edicts will be found to sink in proportion to the arbitrary tone with which they are pronounced. The fate of War­burton is a striking instance of this important truth. What havock has the course of very few years produced in that pile of imperious criticism which he had heaped together! Many of his notes on Shakespeare have already resigned their place to the superior comments of more accom­plished Critics; and perhaps the day is not far distant, when the volumes of Pope himself will cease to be a repository for the lumber of his [Page 164] friend. The severest enemies of Warburton must indeed allow, that several of his remarks on his Poetical Patron are entitled to preservation, by their use or beauty; but the greater part, I ap­prehend, are equally destitute of both: and how far the Critic was capable of disgracing the Poet, must be evident to every reader who recollects that the nonsense in the Essay on Criticism, where Pegasus is made to snatch a grace, which is justly censured by Dr. Warton, was first introduced into the poem by an arbitrary transposition of the editor.

Though arrogance is perhaps the most strik­ing and characteristical defect in the composition of this assuming Commentator, he had certainly other critical failings of considerable importance; and it may possibly be rendering some little ser­vice to the art which he professed, to investigate the peculiarities in this singular writer, which conspire to plunge him in the crowd of those evanescent critics (if I may use such an expression) [Page 165] whom his friend Pope beheld in so clear a vision, that he seems to have given us a prophetical portrait of his own Commentator:

I shall therefore hazard a few farther observa­tions, not only on this famous Critic of our age and country, but on the two greater names of antiquity, to each of whom he has been de­clared superior by the partial voice of enthusiastic friendship. I wish not to offend his most zea­lous adherents; and, though I cannot but con­sider him as a literary usurper, I speak of him as a great Historian said of more exalted tyrants, sine ira et studio, quorum causas procul habeo.—There seem to be three natural endow­ments requisite in the formation of an accom­plished [Page 166] critic;—strong understanding, lively imagination, and refined sensibility. The first was the characteristic of Aristotle; and, by the consent of all ages, he is allowed to have pos­sessed it in a superlative degree. May I be par­doned for the opinion, that he enjoyed but a very moderate portion of the other two? I would not absolutely say, that he had neither Fancy nor Feel­ing: but that his imagination was not brilliant, and that his sensibility was not exquisite, may, I think, be fairly presumed from the general tenor of his prose; nor does the little relique of his poetry contradict the idea. The two qualities in which Aristotle may be supposed defective, were the very two which peculiarly distinguish Lon­ginus; who certainly wanted not understanding, though he might not possess the philosophical sagacity of the Stagyrite. When considered in every point of view, he appears the most con­summate character among the Critics of anti­quity. If Warburton bore any resemblance to either of these mighty names, I apprehend it [Page 167] must be to the former, and perhaps in imagina­tion he was superior to Aristotle: but, of the three qualities which I have ventured to con­sider as requisite in the perfect Critic, I conceive him to have been miserably deficient in the last, and certainly the most essential of the three; for, as the great Commentator of Horace has phi­losophically and truly remarked, in a note to that Poet, ‘"Feeling, or Sentiment, is not only the surest, but the sole ultimate arbiter of works of genius^*."’ A man may possess an acute un­derstanding and a lively imagination, without being a found Critic; and this truth perhaps cannot be more clearly shewn than in the writings of Warburton. His understanding was undoubtedly acute, his imagination was lively; but Imagination and Sentiment are by no means synonymous: and he certainly wanted those finer feelings, which constitute accuracy of discernment, and a perfect percep­tion of literary excellence. In consequence [Page 168] of this defect, instead of seizing the real sense and intended beauties of an author, he frequently followed the caprices of his own active fancy, which led him in quest of secret meanings and mysterious allusions; these he readily found, and his powers of understanding enabled him to dress them up in a plausible and specious form, and to persuade many readers that he was (what he believed himself to be) the restorer of genuine Criticism. As a farther proof that he was desti­tute of refined sensibility, I might alledge the peculiarity of his diction, which, as Dr. John­son has very justly remarked, is coarse and im­pure. Perhaps it may be found, that in pro­portion as authors have enjoyed the quality which I suppose him to have wanted, they have been more or less distinguished by the ease, the elegance, and the beauty of their language: were I required to fortify this conjecture by ex­amples, I should produce the names of Virgil and Racine, of Fenelon and Addison—that Addison, who, though insulted by the Com­mentator [Page 169] of Pope with the names of an indif­ferent Poet and a worse Critic, was, I think, as much superior to his insulter in critical taste, and in solidity of judgment, as he confessedly was in the harmony of his style, and in all the finer graces of beautiful composition.

NOTE VI. VERSE 257.

These, and the six subsequent lines, allude to the following passage in Dr. Warton's Essay on Pope: ‘"I conclude these reflections with a remarkable fact:—In no polished nation, after Criticism has been much studied, and the rules of writing esta­blished, has any very extraordinary work ever ap­peared. This has visibly been the case in Greece, in Rome, and in France, after Aristotle, Horace, and Boileau had written their Arts of Poetry. In our own country, the rules of the Drama, for instance, [Page 170] were never more completely understood than at present; yet what uninteresting, though faultless, Tragedies have we lately seen? so much better is our judgment than our execution. How to ac­count for the fact here mentioned, adequately and justly, would be attended with all those difficul­ties that await discussions relative to the produc­tions of the human mind, and to the delicate and secret causes that influence them; whether or no the natural powers be not confined and debilitated by that timidity and caution which is occasioned by a rigid regard to the dictates of art; or whe­ther that philosophical, that geometrical, and sys­tematical spirit so much in vogue, which has spread itself from the sciences even into polite li­terature, by consulting only reason, has not dimi­nished and destroyed sentiment, and made our poets write from and to the head, rather than the heart; or whether, lastly, when just models, from which the rules have necessarily been drawn, have once appeared, succeeding writers, by vainly and am­bitiously [Page 171] striving to surpass those just models, and to shine and surprise, do not become stiff and forced, and affected in their thoughts and dic­tion."’ Warton's Essay, page 209, 3d edition.—I admire this ingenious and modest reason­ing; but, for the honour of that severer art, which this pleasing writer has the happy talent to enliven and embellish, I will venture to start some doubts concerning the fact itself for which he endeavours to account. Perhaps our acquaint­ance with those writings of Greece and Rome, which were subsequent to Aristotle and Horace, is not sufficiently perfect to decide the point either way in respect to those countries. But with regard to France, may we not assert, that her po­etical productions, which arose after the publica­tion of Boileau's Didactic Essay, are at least equal, if not superior, to those which preceded that period? If the Henriade of Voltaire is not a fine Epic poem, it is allowed to be the best which the French have to boast; not to mention the [Page 172] dramatic works of that extraordinary and univer­sal author. If this remarkable fact may indeed be found true, I should rather suppose it to arise from the irritable nature of the poetic spirit, so peculiarly averse to restraint and controul. The Bard who could gallop his Pegasus over a free and open plain, might be eager to engage in so pleasing an exercise; but he who observed the direction­posts so thickly and so perversely planted, that, in­stead of assisting his career, they must probably oc­casion his fall, would easily be tempted to descend from his steed, and to decline the course. Let me illustrate this conjecture by a striking fact, in the very words of the Poet just mentioned, who was by no means deficient in poetical confi­dence, and who has left us the following anec­dote of himself, in that pleasing little anony­mous work, intitled, Commentaire Historique sur les Oeuvres de l'Auteur de la Henriade. ‘"Il lut un jour plusieurs chants de ce poeme chez le jeune Président de Maisons, son intime ami. On [Page 173] l'impatienta par des objections; il jetta son ma­nuscrit dans le feu. Le Président Hénaut l'en retira avee peine. "Souvenez vous (lui dit Mr. Hénaut) dans une de ses lettres, que c'est moi qui ai sauvé la Henriade, et qu'il m'en a couté une belle paire de manchettes."’

To return to the Essay on Pope.—I rejoice that the amiable Critic has at length obliged the pub­lic with the conclusion of his most engaging and ingenious work: he has the singular talent to instruct and to please even those readers who are most ready to revolt from the opinion which he endeavours to establish; and he has in some degree atoned for that excess of severity which his first volume discovered, and which sunk the reputation of Pope in the eyes of many, who judge not for themselves, even far below that mortifying level to which he meant to reduce it. Had Pope been alive, to add this spirited essay to the bundle of writings against himself, which he is said to have collected, he must have felt, that, [Page 174] like the dagger of Brutus, it gave the most pain­ful blow, from the character of the assailant:

Yet Pope ascended not the throne of Poetry by usurpation, but was seated there by a legal title; of which I shall speak farther in a subsequent note.

NOTE VII. VERSE 359.

Boileau's Art of Poetry made its first appearance in 1673, six years after the publication of Pa­radise Lost. The verses of the French Poet to which I have particularly alluded, are these:

[Page 176] The preceding lines, which are said to have been levelled at the Clovis of Desmaretz, appear so pointed against the subject of Milton, that we might almost believe them intended as a satire on our divine Bard. There is nothing in Boileau's admirable Didactic Essay so liable to objection as the whole passage concerning Epic poetry. His patronage of the old Pagan divinities, and his ob­lique recommendation of Classical heroes, are alike exceptionable. Even a higher name than Boileau has failed in framing precepts for the Epic Muse. The maxims delivered by Tasso himself, in his Discourse on Epic poetry, are so far from perfect, that an agreeable and judicious French critic has very justly said of him, ‘"S'il eût mis sa theorie en pratique, son poeme n'auroit pas tant de charmes^*."’ I am not so vain as to think of succeeding in the point where these im­mortal authors have failed; and I must beg my [Page 177] reader to remember, that the present work is by no means intended as a code of laws for the Epic poet; it is not my design‘To write receipts how poems may be made;’ for I think the writer who would condescend to frame this higher species of composition accord­ing to the exact letter of any directions whatever, may be most properly referred to that admirable receipt for an Epic poem, with which Martinus Scriblerus will happily supply him. My serious desire is to examine and refute the prejudices which have produced, as I apprehend, the neglect of the Heroic Muse: I wish to kindle in our Poets a warmer sense of national honour, with ambi­tion to excel in the noblest province of poesy. If my Essay should excite that generous enthusi­asm in the breast of any young poetic genius, so far from wishing to confine him by any arbitrary dictates of my own imagination, I should rather say to him, in the words of Dante's Virgil,

NOTE VIII. VERSE 377.

‘"On foot, with a lance in his hand, the Em­peror himself led the solemn procession, and di­rected the line, which was traced as the boundary of the destined capital; till the growing circum­ference was observed with astonishment by the assistants, who at length ventured to observe, that he had already exceeded the most ample measure of a great city. "I shall still advance," replied Constantine, "till he, the invisible guide who marches before me, thinks proper to stop."’ GIBBON, Vol. II. page 11.

NOTE I. VERSE 28.

Ho­mer, like most transcendent characters, has found detractors in every age. We learn from a passage in the Life of Socrates, by Diogenes Laer­tius, that the great Poet had, in his life-time, an adversary named Sagaris, or Syagrus; and his ca­lumniator Zoilus is proverbially distinguished. In [Page 180] the Greek Anthologia, there is a sepulchral in­scription on a slanderer of the sovereign Bard, which, for its enthusiastic singularity, I shall pre­sent to the reader:

Parthenius, say the Commentators, was a dis­ciple of Dionysius of Alexandria, who flourished under Nero and Trajan. Erycius, the author of the inscription, is supposed to have lived in the same age.—Among the modern adversaries of Homer, the French are most remarkable for their severity and injustice: nor is it surprising, that the nation which has displayed the faintest sparks of Epic fire, should be the most solicitous to re­duce the oppressive splendor of this exalted lumi­nary. [Page 182] The most depreciating remarks on genius, in every walk, are generally made by those who are the least able to prove its rivals; and often, per­haps, not so much from the prevalence of envious malignity, as from the want of vivid and delicate perception. The merits and the failings of Ho­mer were agitated in France with all the heat and acrimony of a theological dispute. Madame Dacier distinguished herself in the contest by her uncommon talents and erudition: she combated for the Grecian Bard with the spirit of Minerva defending the father of the Gods. It must how­ever be confessed, that she sometimes overstepped the modesty of wisdom, and caught, unwarily, the scolding tone of Juno. It is indeed amusing, to observe a people, who pique themselves on their extreme politeness, and censure Homer for the gross behaviour of his Gods, engaging among themselves in a squabble concerning this very Poet, with all the unrefined animosity of his Olympian Synod. In the whole controversy there is nothing more worthy of remembrance [Page 183] and of praise, than the lively elegance and the pleasing good-humour of Mr. de la Motte, who, though not one of the most exalted, was certain­ly one of the most amiable characters in the lite­rary world; and made a generous return to the severity of his female antagonist, by writing an ode in her praise. Voltaire has pointed out, with his usual spirit, the failings of La Motte in his Abridgement of the Iliad; but he has frequently fallen himself into similar defects, and is equally unjust to Homer, against whom he has levelled the most bitter sarcasms both in prose and verse. Voltaire attacking Homer, is like Paris shooting his arrow at the heel of Achilles: the two Poets are as unequal as the two ancient Warriors; yet Homer, like Achilles, may have his vulnerable spot: but with this happy difference, that although the shaft of ridicule, which is pointed against him, may be tinged with venom, its wound cannot be mortal. Perhaps no better answer can be made to all those who amuse themselves with writing against Homer, than the following reply of Ma­dame [Page 184] Dacier to the Abbé Terrasson, who had attacked her favourite Bard in two abusive vo­lumes:—‘"Que Monsieur l' Abbé Terrasson trouve Homere sot, ridicule, extravagant, en­nuyeux, c'est son affaire, le public jugera si c'est un defaut à Homere de deplaire à M. l' Abbé Terrasson, ou à M. l' Abbé Terrasson de ne pas gouter Homere."’

NOTE II. VERSE 85.

Dio Chrysostom, in one of his orations, has called Socrates the disciple of Homer, and drawn a short parallel of their respective merits; observing, in honour of both, ‘" [...]."’ DION. CHRYS. p. 559.

NOTE III. VERSE 119.

I mean not to injure the dignity of Pindar by this assertion. Though Quinctilian, in drawing the character of the Grecian Lyric Poets, has given him high pre-eminence in that choir, we may, I think, very fairly conjecture that some odes of Alcaeus and Stesichorus were not inferior to those of the Theban Bard, who is said to have been re­peatedly vanquished in a poetical contest by his female antagonist Corinna. The absurd jealousy of our sex concerning literary talents, has led some eminent writers to question the merits of Corinna, as Olearius has observed, in his Disserta­tion on the female Poets of Greece. But her glo­ry seems to have been fully established by the pub­lic memorial of her picture, exhibited in her native city, and adorned with a symbol of her victory. Pausanias, who saw it, supposes her to have been one of the handsomest women of her time; and the ingenuity of some Critics imputes her success [Page 186] in the poetical contest to the influence of her beauty. They have taken some liberties less pardonable with her literary reputation; and, by their curious comments on a single Greek syl­lable, made the sublime Pindar call his fair rival a Sow; though the unfortunate word [...], which may be twisted into that meaning, signi­fies, in its more obvious construction, that the Poet challenged his successful antagonist to a new trial of skill.—For a more minute account of this singular piece of criticism, I must refer the reader to the notes on Corinna, in the Fragmenta Poe­triarum, by Wolfius. Time has left us only a few diminutive scraps of Corinna's Poetry; but Plu­tarch, in his Treatise on the Glory of the Athe­nians, has preserved one of her critical Bon-mots, which may deserve to be repeated. That author asserts, that Corinna instructed Pindar in his youth, and advised him to adorn his composition with the embellishments of fable. The obedient Poet soon brought her some verses, in which he had followed her advice rather too freely; when his Tutress, [Page 187] smiling at his profusion, [...].

NOTE IV. VERSE 126.

Apollonius, surnamed the Rhodian from the place of his residence, is supposed to have been a native of Alexandria; where he is said to have recited some portion of his Poem, while he was yet a youth. Finding it ill received by his country­men, he retired to Rhodes, where he is conjec­tured to have polished and completed his Work; supporting himself by the profession of Rhetoric, and receiving from the Rhodians the freedom of their city. He at length returned, with conside­rable honour, to the place of his birth, succeed­ing Eratosthenes in the care of the Alexandrian Library, in the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes, who ascended the throne of Egypt in the year before [Page 188] Christ 246. That prince had been educated by the famous Aristarchus, and rivalled the pre­ceding sovereigns of his liberal family in the mu­nificent encouragement of learning. Apollonius was a disciple of the poet Callimachus; but their connection ended in the most violent enmity; which was probably owing to some degree of contempt expressed by Apollonius for the light compositions of his master. The learned have vainly endeavoured to discover the particulars of their quarrel.—The only Work of Apollo­nius which has descended to modern times, is his Poem, in four Books, on the Argonautic expe­dition. Both Longinus and Quinctilian have as­signed to this Work the mortifying character of Mediocrity: but there lies an appeal from the sentence of the most candid and enlightened Cri­tics to the voice of Nature; and the merit of Apollonius has little to apprehend from the deci­sion of this ultimate judge. His Poem abounds in animated description, and in passages of the [Page 189] most tender and pathetic beauty. How finely painted is the first setting forth of the Argo! and how beautifully is the wife of Chiron introduced, holding up the little Achilles in her arms, and shewing him to his father Peleus as he sailed along the shore! But the chief excellence in our Poet, is the spirit and delicacy with which he has deli­neated the passion of love in his Medea. That Virgil thought very highly of his merit in this particular, is sufficiently evident from the minute exactness with which he has copied many tender touches of the Grecian Poet. Those who com­pare the third Book of Apollonius with the fourth of Virgil, may, I think, perceive not only that Dido has some features of Medea, but that the two Bards, however different in their reputation, resembled each other in their genius; and that they both excel in delicacy and pathos.

NOTE V. VERSE 190.

Scaliger appears to be the most extravagant of all the Critics who have lavished their undistin­guishing encomiums on Virgil, by asserting that he alone is entitled to the name of Poet. Poeti­ces, lib. iii. c. 2.—Though the opinion of Spence, and other modern Critics, concerning the cha­racter of Aeneas, considered as an allegorical portrait of Augustus, seems to gain ground, yet it might perhaps be easy to overturn the inge­nious conjectures and the fanciful reasoning by which that idea has been supported. This attempt would have the sanction of one of the most judi­cious Commentators of Virgil; for the learned Heyne expressly rejects all allegorical interpre­tation, and thinks it improbable that a Poet of so correct a judgment could have adopted a plan which must necessarily contract and cramp his [Page 191] powers. He even ventures to assert, that if the character of Aeneas was delineated as an allego­rical portrait of Augustus, the execution of it is unhappy. The strongest argument which has been adduced to support this conjecture, is founded on the ingenious interpretation of the following passage in the opening of the third Georgic:

These lines, in which Virgil expresses his in­tention of dedicating a temple to Augustus, have been considered as the noblest allegory of ancient [Page 192] Poetry ^*; and the great Critic who first started the idea, has expatiated, in the triumph of his discovery, on the mysterious beauties they con­tain: but the whole of this hypothesis is unfor­tunately built upon the rejection of three verses, which are pronounced unworthy of the Poet, and which, though found in every MS. the Critic claims a right of removing. A licence so extra­ordinary cannot even be justified by the talents of this accomplished writer: for if the less elegant passages of the ancient Poets might be removed at pleasure, their compositions would be exposed to the caprice of every fantastic commentator. The obvious and literal interpretation not only renders this violence unnecessary, but is more agreeable to the judgment of the Poet and the manners of his age. The custom of erecting real temples was so familiar to antiquity, that a Ro­man would never have suspected the edifice was to be raised only with poetical materials. We may even conjecture, from a line of Statius, that [Page 193] the Poet himself had a temple erected to his me­mory; and, without any breach of probability, we may admit his intention of giving his living Emperor such a testimony of his gratitude. This adulation, though shocking to us, was too gene­rally justified by example to oblige the Poet to palliate it by a fiction. He had before ac­quiesced in the divinity of his Imperial Pa­tron, and had expressed the idea in its full sense:

Having made such an invocation in the begin­ning of his Work, was his delicacy afterwards to be shocked, and oblige him to pay a compliment under the disguise of an obscure conceit? for that [Page 194] allegory must be allowed to be obscure, which had remained through so many ages unexplained. The unfortunate rejected lines, for whose ele­gance we do not contend, may at least be rescued from impropriety by a literal interpretation of the preceding passage; for, dismiss the conjectured allegory, and the chief objections against them remain no longer. If the phraseology be peculiar, it is at least supported by concurring MSS. The adjective ardens is sometimes undoubtedly joined to a word that does not denote a substance of heat or flame, as the Critic himself admits in the case of ardentes hostes, to which we may add the ver­bum ardens of Cicero^*. As to the line which is [Page 195] said to contain the most glaring note of illegi­timacy,

many reasons might induce the Poet to use the name of Tithonus, which at this distance of time it is not easy for us to conjecture. Perhaps he chose it to vary the expression of Assaraci Proles, which he had adopted in the preceding lines. The absurdity of the subject-matter, and the place in which it is introduced, that are insisted on as the principal objections, arise solely from the allego­rical hypothesis: without it the construction will be plain and natural. The Poet expresses his in­tention of erecting a temple to Augustus, and expatiates on the magnificence with which it was to be adorned: he then returns to his present poetical subject—

and, having dwelt a little on that, to avoid too long a digression, very naturally resumes the [Page 196] praises of the Emperor, by alluding to the sub­limer song which he intended to devote to him hereafter:

Perhaps the important position that gave rise to this conjecture, and to others of a similar com­plexion, ‘"that the propriety of allegorical com­position made the distinguished pride of ancient poetry,"’ is as questionable as the conjecture itself; and a diligent and judicious perusal of the ancient Poets might convince us, that simplicity was their genuine character, and that many of their allegorical beauties have originated in the fertile imagination of their commentators. Aris­tarchus, indeed, the celebrated model of ancient criticism, rejected with great spirit the allegorical interpretations of Homer, as we are informed by Eusthathius; but the good Archbishop of Thes­salonica, who, like some modern prelates, had a passion for allegory, censures the great Critic of [Page 197] Alexandria for his more simple mode of con­struction, and supposes it an injury to the re­fined beauties and profound wisdom of the Poet. ‘' [...].’ EUSTH. vol. iii. page 1300.

Having considered in this note some conjectures on Virgil, that appear to me fantastical and ill founded, I am tempted to produce two illustra­tions of the same great poet, which, if I am not deceived by friendship, reflect more light and honour on the first of the Roman poets. At all events, they will be esteemed as a literary cu­riosity by the reader, when I tell him they were written by a Critic, whose name is doubly en­titled to respect in the republic of letters, from his own taste and erudition, and from the poetical ge­nius of his daughter.—In the early part of his life, Mr. Seward of Lichfield had thoughts of pub­lishing a translation of Virgil in blank verse. Among his remarks on different passages of his [Page 198] author, the two following appeared to me par­ticularly happy; and I transcribe them from the papers of my worthy old friend, in the persua­sion that every lover of Virgil will peruse them with pleasure.

‘"THERE are two passages in the Aeneid, which seem to me misunderstood by all the com­mentators and translators, from the age of the Roman classics to the present; and yet, when properly explained, they will, I hope, appear beautiful, clear, and almost indisputable. I shall mention them as they occurred to me. The first of these lines is in the eighth book of the Aeneid, verse 695. It is in the prophetic description of the battle of Actium, between Augustus and Antony, carved by Vulcan on the shield of Aeneas:— Arva novâ Neptunia caede rubescunt. Regina in mediis patrio vocat agmina sistro; Necdum etiam geminos a tergo respicit angues: Omnigenûmque deûm monstra, et latrator Anubis, [Page 199] Contra Neptunum, et Venerem, contraque Minervam, Tela tenent: saevit medio in certamine Mavors Caelatus ferro, tristesque ex aethere Dirae; Et scissà gaudens vadit Discordia pallà, Quam cum sanguineo sequitur Bellona flagello. The difficulty in this passage is, to know what and where the two prophetic snakes were behind Cleopatra's back. Most commentators say that they were carved upon her shield, which hung upon her back; but surely this could not be de­signed by Virgil: if he meant to represent Cleo­patra in armour, as he undoubtedly did, he would not have hung her shield behind her back in the hour of battle. In the next place, why does he give her two serpents, when both her sculptors, painters, and historians give her only one, the bite of which, in that country of veno­mous creatures, was quite sufficient to slay her. Nor would Virgil, the model of perspicuity, ex­press himself so confusedly, as to talk of her [Page 200] turning her eyes to what is carved upon her own back. If the reader is convinced that the pas­sage wants perspicuity, he will be pleased to find the whole cleared up, by observing, that the two snakes were on the caduceus of Anubis, which consisted of a dog's head on a human figure, with a caduceus in one hand, on the top of which were two beautifully curling asps or snakes, and a purse or a porridge pot in his left (Le Pluche)—from whence the Greeks, perhaps, without knowing the meaning of this emblem, took their Mercury. They discarded the dog's head, as unsightly, and placed a human one in its stead; by which they destroyed the emblematic figures, though they left the name of latrator, or barker, sufficient to lead us to its real mean­ing; which was, that of the dog-star, the rising of which just preceded the overflow of the Nile. As soon, therefore, as the astronomers of Egypt could discern the dog-star risen in the spring, they gave notice of it by their Anubis, or dog, which was hung out on their several towers, that [Page 201] all the people might fly to their terraces and places of safety: but if clouds had before ob­structed the view of the star, and it was risen high before it was discerned, they added wings to his feet and shoulders, put his caduceus in his right hand, and a porridge pot, or purse, in his left, to hurry the people in their preparations against the deluge. Virgil therefore, in de­scribing Cleopatra in her ship, evidently supposes the name of her ship to have been Anubis; whose image was carved on the poop of it, holding his caduceus behind Cleopatra. The rest of the Egyptian fleet having ‘"omnigenûm deûm mon­stra,"’ other Egyptian deities, on their poops, who Contra Neptunum, et Venerem, contraque Minervam, Tela tenent: — that is, the Egyptian ships and Roman were ranged in battle against each other. [Page 202] Cana fides, et Vesta, Remo cum fratre Quirinus, Jura dabunt: —AENEID I. ver. 292. Scarce any passage in Virgil has given me greater trouble, took longer time, or gave me greater pleasure in the discovery, than this. The difficulty was, to know how Virgil came to chuse Romulus and Remus, the one the murderer of the other, as the joint legislators of a new golden age of peace and prosperity. Much historical knowledge has been in vain applied to form many strange interpretations, with which the Critics themselves are plainly dissatisfied: much the most plausible is that of Ruaeus, that "Cana Fides" was the ancient faith of citizens to each other; Vesta, religion; and Romulus and Remus, the power of the Princes united as legislators. But how a Fratricide could represent such an union would be strange indeed.—I will not detain the reader with enumerating the many absurd con­jectures of interpretation, but shall only mention some facts relating to a new solution. First, this book of Virgil was evidently written soon after [Page 203] the battle of Actium, when, Antony being subdued, the whole world seemed at peace, and Augustus shut the gate of Janus. Mecaenas was his fa­vourite Minister and Praetor Urbanus; and had just then, with wonderful sagacity, discovered and suppressed a conspiracy against the Emperor's life, on his return in triumph to Rome. One of the principal actors in this conspiracy, was the son of the late Triumvir Lepidus; whom, with several other conspirators, he had, unknown each to the other, seized, imprisoned, and privately destroyed, without any noise or public disturbance. The knowledge of this recent fact makes it still more surprising, that Virgil, who is full of compliments to his patron in most of his other works, should, in his principal poem, totally omit speaking of him; unless he is supposed to have represented him by the character of "fidus Achates," which amounts to no more than that of lighting a fire to dry their clothes and their corn after a storm, or to bring Ascanius to his father to partake of Dido's entertainment. I hope to prove that Vir­gil's [Page 204] supposed neglect of his friend is not true, and that he is, in the line above, elegantly and judi­ciously complimented; as also very intelligibly so, to all who knew the history of this conspiracy, and that Mecaenas was Praetor Urbanus, with a power equal, if not superior, to our Lord Chief Justice and our Lord Chancellor conjoined. It occurred to me, many years before I knew any proof of it, that "Cana Fides, et Vesta, et Remo cum fratre Quirinus," were the names of those temples where Mecaenas held his beds of justice; in the same manner as, in the former note, "Anu­bis" and "Deorum monstra" were only the names of the Egyptian ships opposed to those of the Ro­mans, named Mercury, Venus, and Minerva. I had many years a strong suspicion of this, when, accidentally reading Horace's Epistle, "Ibam fortè viâ sacrâ," I found that the temple of Vesta was employed by Mecaenas for trials of civil causes. See Sat. IX. Book I.—Having therefore found my conjecture, with regard to the temple of Vesta, verified, I pursued my search to the others, viz. [Page 205] of Romulus and Remus, and of Fides. The first I found to be the place of trial and punishment of criminals; and the next to be the temple where the tablets of all the Senatûs Consulta were hung up, and which in Caesar's time were so numerous, that the walls of the temple could not contain them, and therefore an additional building was erected: this, therefore, seems extremely proper to accompany the seats of judicature. The com­pliment to Mecaenas, is this: When civil wars shall cease, and all power, regal, consular, and tribunitial, centre in Augustus, his friend and fa­vourite, Mecaenas, shall be Praetor Urbanus; who shall rule by the equitable laws suspended in the ancient temple of Fides, shall decide civil causes in the temple and grove of Vesta, and criminal ones in the temple of Romulus and Remus^*. All this would be clearly understood by those, who knew the ample powers conferred on Mecaenas by his judicial office of Praetor Urbanus."’

NOTE VI. VERSE 260.

There is hardly any eminent personage of anti­quity, who has suffered more from detraction, both in his literary and moral character, than the poet Lucan. His fate, indeed, seems in all points to have been peculiarly severe. His early death, at an age when few Poets have even laid the foundation of their capital work, is itself suffi­cient to excite our compassion and regret; but to perish by the envious tyranny of Nero may be considered as a blessing, when compared with the more cruel misfortune of being branded with in­famy in the immortal pages of Tacitus. As I am persuaded that the great Historian has inad­vertently adopted the grossest calumny against our Poet, I shall most readily assign my reasons for thinking so. It may first be proper to give a short sketch of Lucan's life.—He was the son of Anneus Mela, the youngest brother of Seneca; [Page 207] and, though born at Corduba, was conveyed to Rome at the age of eight months: a circum­stance, as his more indulgent critics observe, which sufficiently refutes the censure of those who consider his language as provincial. At Rome he was educated under the Stoic Cornutus, so warmly celebrated by his disciple Persius the Sa­tirist, who was the intimate friend of our Poet. In the close of his education, Lucan is said to have passed some time at Athens. On his return to Rome he rose to the office of Quaestor, before he had attained the legal age. He was afterwards inrolled among the Augurs; and married a lady of noble birth, of whose amiable character I shall speak more at large in a subsequent note. Lu­can had for some time been admitted to fami­liarity with Nero, when the Emperor chose to contend for poetical honours, by the public recital of a poem he had composed on Niobe; and some verses of this imperial production are supposed to be preserved in the First Satire of Persius. Lucan had the hardiness to repeat a poem [Page 208] on Orpheus, in competition with that of Nero; and, what is more remarkable, the judges of the contest were just and bold enough to decide against the Emperor. From hence Nero became the persecutor of his successful rival, and forbade him to produce any poetry in public. The well­known conspiracy of Piso against the tyrant soon followed; and Tacitus, with his usual sarcastic severity, concludes that Lucan engaged in the enterprize from the poetical injuries he had re­ceived: a remark which does little credit to the candour of the Historian; who might have found a much nobler, and I will add a more probable, motive for his conduct, in the generous ardour of his character, and his passionate adoration of freedom. In the sequel of his narration, Tacitus alledges a charge against our Poet, which, if it were true, must lead us to detest him as the most abject of mankind. The Historian asserts, that Lucan, when accused of the conspiracy, for some time denied the charge; but, corrupted at last by a promise of impunity, and desirous to atone for [Page 209] the tardiness of his confession, accused his mother Atilla as his accomplice. This circumstance is so improbable in itself, and so little consonant to the general character of Lucan, that some writers have treated it with contempt, as a calumny in­vented by Nero to vilify the object of his envious abhorrence. But the name of Tacitus has given such an air of authority to the story, that it may seem to deserve a more serious discussion, parti­cularly as there are two subsequent events re­lated by the same Historian, which have a ten­dency to invalidate the accusation so injurious to our Poet. The events I mean are, the fate of Annaeus, and the escape of Atilla, the two parents of Lucan. The former died in consequence of an accusation brought against him, after the death of his son, by Fabius Romanus, who had been intimate with Lucan, and forged some letters in his name, with the design of proving his father concerned in the conspiracy. These letters were produced to Nero, who sent them to Annaeus, from an eager desire, says Tacitus, to get pos­session [Page 210] of his wealth. From this fact two in­ferences may be drawn, according to the differ­ent lights in which it may be considered:—If the accusation against Annaeus was just, it is clear that Lucan had not betrayed his father, and he appears the less likely to have endangered by his confession the life of a parent, to whom he owed a still tenderer regard:—If Annaeus was not in­volved in the conspiracy, and merely put to death by Nero for the sake of his treasure, we may the more readily believe, that the tyrant who mur­dered the father from avarice, might calumniate the son from envy. But the escape of Atilla affords us the strongest reason to conclude that Lucan was perfectly innocent of the abject and unnatural treachery, of which Tacitus has sup­posed him guilty. Had the Poet really named his mother as his accomplice, would the vindictive and sanguinary Nero have spared the life of a wo­man, whose family he detested, particularly when other females were put to death for their share in the conspiracy? That Atilla was not in that [Page 211] number, the Historian himself informs us in the following remarkable sentence, Atilla mater An­naei Lucani, sine absolutione, sine supplicio, dis­simulata; thus translated by Gordon: ‘"The information against Atilla, the mother of Lucan, was dissembled; and, without being cleared, she escaped unpunished."’

The preceding remarks will, I hope, vindicate to every candid mind the honour of our Poet; whose firmness and intrepidity of character are indeed very forcibly displayed in that picture of his death which Tacitus himself has given us. I shall present it to the English reader in the words of Gordon:—Lucan, ‘"while his blood issued in streams, perceiving his feet and hands to grow cold and stiffen, and life to retire by little and little to the extremities, while his heart was still beating with vital warmth, and his faculties no wise impaired, recollected some lines of his own, which described a wounded soldier expiring in a manner that resembled this. The lines themselves he rehearsed; and they were the last words he [Page 212] ever uttered."’ The Annals of Tacitus, Book xv.—The critics differ concerning the verses of the Pharsalia which the author quoted in so me­morable a manner. I shall transcribe the two passages he is supposed to have repeated, and only add that Lipsius contends for the latter.

Such was the death of Lucan, before he had [Page 214] completed his twenty-seventh year. If his cha­racter as a man has been injured by the Histo­rian, his poetical reputation has been treated not less injuriously by the Critics. Quintilian, by a frivolous distinction, disputes his title to be clas­sed among the Poets; and Scaliger says, with a brutality of language disgraceful only to himself, that he seems rather to bark than to sing. But these insults may appear amply compensated, when we remember, that in the most polished nations of modern Europe the most elevated and poetic spirits have been his warmest admirers; that in France he was idolized by Corneille, and in England translated by Rowe.—The severest cen­sures on Lucan have proceeded from those who have unfairly compared his language to that of Virgil: but how unjust and absurd is such a comparison! it is comparing an uneven block of porphyry, taken rough from the quarry, to the most beautiful superficies of polished marble. How differently should we think of Virgil as a poet, if we possessed only the verses which he [Page 215] wrote at that period of life when Lucan compo­sed his Pharsalia! In the disposition of his subject, in the propriety and elegance of diction, he is undoubtedly far inferior to Virgil: but if we attend to the bold originality of his design, and to the vigour of his sentiments; if we consider the Pharsalia as the rapid and uncorrected sketch of a young poet, executed in an age when the spirit of his countrymen was broken, and their taste in literature corrupted, it may justly be esteemed as one of the most noble and most wonderful produc­tions of the human mind.

NOTE VII. VERSE 293.

Pom­pey, after his defeat at Pharsalia, proceeded to Lesbos, as he had left his wife Cornelia to the protection of that island; which received the unfortunate hero with a sublime generosity. The Lesbians entreated him to remain amongst them, and promised to defend him. Pompey expressed [Page 216] his gratitude for their fidelity, but declined the offer, and embarked with Cornelia. The concern of this gallant people on the departure of their amiable guest is thus described by Lucan:

NOTE VIII. VERSE 296.

Polla Argentaria was the daughter of a Roman Se­nator, and the wife of Lucan. She is said to have transcribed and corrected the three first books of the Pharsalia, after the death of her husband. It is much to be regretted that we possess not the poem which he wrote on the merits of this amiable and accomplished woman; but her name is immor­talized by two surviving Poets of that age. The [Page 218] veneration which she paid to the memory of her husband, is recorded by Martial; and more poe­tically described in that pleasing and elegant lit­tle production of Statius, Genethliacon Lucani, a poem which I the more readily commend, as I may be thought by some readers unjust towards its author, in omitting to celebrate his Thebaid. I confess, indeed, the miscellaneous poems of Statius appear to me his most valuable work: in most of these there is much imagination and sen­timent, in harmonious and spirited verse. The little poem which I have mentioned, on the an­niversary of Lucan's birth, is said to have been written at the request of Argentaria. The Au­thor, after invoking the poetical deities to attend the cere [...]omy, touches with great delicacy and spirit on the compositions of Lucan's childhood, which are lost, and the Pharsalia, the production of his early youth; he then pays a short compli­ment to the beauty and talents of Argentaria, la­ments the cruel fate which deprived her so im­maturely [Page 219] of domestic happiness; and concludes with the following address to the shade of Lucan:

I cannot close this note without observing, that the preceding verses have a strong tendency to prove, that Lucan was perfectly innocent in regard to the accusation which I have examined before. Had he been really guilty of basely endangering the life of his mother, it is not probable that his wife would have honoured his memory with such en­thusiastic veneration, or that Statius, in verses de­signed to do him honour, would have alluded to the mother of Nero. The Reader will pardon my recurring to this subject, as it is pleasing to make use of every argument which may remove so odious and unjust a stain from a manly and exalted character.