NOTE I. VERSE 7. SUCH dark decrees have letter'd Bigots penn'd, Yet ſeiz'd that honor'd name, the Poet's Friend.]

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 perfection; and the more elegant and accompliſhed Vida inculcates the ſame puſillanimous leſſon, though in ſpirited and harmonious verſe: Unus hic ingenio praeſtanti gentis Achivae Divinos vates longè ſuperavit, et arte, Aureus immortale ſonans: ſtupet ipſa pavetque, Quamvis ingentem miretur Graecia Homerum. Ergo ipſum ante alios animo venerare Maronem, Atque unum ſequere, utque potes, veſtigia ſerva! VIDA. See how the Grecian Bards, at diſtance thrown, With reverence bow to this diſtinguiſh'd ſon; Immortal ſounds his golden lines impart, And nought can match his Genius but his Art: E'en Greece turns pale and trembles at his fame, Which ſhades the luſtre of her Homer's name. Hence, ſacred Virgil from thy ſoul adore Above the reſt, and to thy utmoſt power Purſue the glorious paths he ſtruck before. PITT's Tranſlation.

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 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 by Genius to the banquet, "The Table's full!"

NOTE II. VERSE 77. Thus, at their banquets, fabling Greeks rehearſe The fancied origin of ſacred Verſe.]

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. Why did the Epic Muſe's ſilent lyre Shrink from thoſe feats that ſummon'd all her fire?]

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 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 by Alexander. VoſſiusDe Hiſtoricis Graecis., 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 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. When grave Boſſu by Syſtem's ſtudied laws The Grecian Bard's ideal picture draws.]

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 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 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.

"Homere," ſays Boſſu, "Livre i. chap. 8.voyoit les Grecs pour qui il écrivoit, diviſéz en autant d'etats qu'ils avoient de villes conſiderables: chacune faiſoit un corps à part & avoit ſa forme de gouvernement independamment de toutes les autres. Et toute-fois ces etats differens etoient ſouvent obligéz de ſe reünir comme en un ſeul corps contre leurs ennemis communs. Voila ſans doute deux ſortes de gouvernemens bien differens, pour etre commodement reunis en un corps de morale, & en un ſeul poëme.

"Le poëte en a donc fait deux fables ſeparées. L'une eſt pour toute la Grece reünie en un ſeul corps, mais compoſée de parties independantes les unes des autres, comme elles etoient en effet; & l'autre eſt pour chaque etat particulier, tels qu'ils etoient pendant la paix, ſans ce premier rapport & ſans la neceſſité de ſe reünir.

"Homere a donc pris pour le fond de ſa fable, cette grande verité, que la Meſintelligence des princes ruine leurs propres etats."

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 deſordresLivre i. chap. 10.."

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, "Livre i. chap. 13.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 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 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 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, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . 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 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 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 "Book v. chap. i.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 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. Imputes to Virgil his own dark conceit.]

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 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. "It is," ſays he, "from extrinſical circumſtances that we may expect the diſcovery of Virgil's allegory. Every one of theſe circumſtances perſuades me, that Virgil deſcribed a real, not a mimic world, and that the ſcene lay in the Infernal Shades, and not in the Temple of Ceres.

"The ſingularity of the Cumaean ſhores muſt be preſent to every traveller who has once ſeen them. To a ſuperſtitious mind, the thin cruſt, vaſt cavities, ſulphureous ſteams, poiſonous exhalations, and fiery torrents, may ſeem to trace out the narrow confine of the two worlds. The lake Avernus was the chief object of religious horror; the black woods which ſurrounded it, when Virgil firſt came to Naples, were perfectly ſuited to feed the ſuperſtition of the people Strabo, l. v. p. 168. . It was generally believed, that this deadly flood was the entrance of Hell Sil. Ital. l. xii. ; and an oracle was once eſtabliſhed on its banks, which pretended, by magic rites, to call up the departed ſpirits Diod. Siculus, l. iv. p. 267. edit. Weſſeling. . Aeneas, who revolved a more daring enterprize, addreſſes himſelf to the prieſtleſs of thoſe dark regions. Their converſation may perhaps inform us whether an initiation, or a deſcent to the Shades, was the object of this enterprize. She endeavours to deter the hero, by ſetting before him all the dangers of his raſh undertaking: — Facilis deſcenſus Averni; Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis: Sed revocare gradum, ſuperaſque evadere ad auras, Hoc opus, hic labor eſt Aeneid vi. 126.

"Theſe particulars are abſolutely irreconcileable with the idea of initiation, but perfectly agreeable to that of a real deſcent. That every ſtep and every inſtant may lead us to the grave, is a melancholy truth. The Myſteries were only open at ſtated times, a few days at moſt in the courſe of a year. The mimic deſcent of the Myſteries was laborious and dangerous, the return to light eaſy and certain. In real death this order is inverted: — Pauci quos aequus amavit Jupiter, aut ardens evexit ad aethera virtus, Diis geniti, potuere Aeneid vi. 129. Theſe heroes, as we learn from the Speech of Aeneas, were Hercules, Orpheus, Caſtor and Pollux, Theſeus, and Pirithous. Of all theſe antiquity believed, that, before their death, they had ſeen the habitations of the dead; nor indeed will any of the circumſtances tally with a ſuppoſed initiation. The adventure of Eurydice, the alternate life of the Brothers, and the forcible intruſion of Alcides, Theſeus, and Pirithous, would mock the endeavours of the moſt ſubtle critic, who ſhould try to melt them down into his favourite Myſteries. The exploits of Hercules, who triumphed over the King of Terrors— Tartareum ille manu cuſtodem in vincla petivit Ipſius a ſolio regis, traxitque trementem Aeneid vi. 395. . was a wild imagination of the Greeks Homer Odyſſ. l. xi. ver. 623. Apoll. Bib. l. ii. c. 5. ; but it was the duty of ancient Poets to adopt and embelliſh theſe popular traditions; and it is the intereſt of every man of taſte to acquieſce in their poetical fictions."

"Virgil has borrowed, as uſual, from Homer his epiſode of the Infernal Shades, and, as uſual, has infinitely improved what the Grecian had invented. If among a profuſion of beauties I durſt venture to point out the moſt ſtriking beauties of the ſixth Book, I ſhould perhaps obſerve, 1. That after accompanying the hero through the ſilent realms of Night and Chaos, we ſee, with aſtoniſhment and pleaſure, a new creation burſting upon us. 2. That we examine, with a delight which ſprings from the love of virtue, the juſt empire of Minos, in which the apparent irregularities of the preſent ſyſtem are corrected; where the patriot who died for his country is happy, and the tyrant who oppreſſed it is miſerable. 3. As we intereſt ourſelves in the hero's fortunes, we ſhare his feelings:—the melancholy Palinurus, the wretched Deiphobus, the indignant Dido, the Grecian kings, who tremble at his preſence, and the venerable Anchiſes, who embraces his pious ſon, and diſplays to his ſight the future glories of his race: all theſe objects affect us with a variety of pleaſing ſenſations.

"Let us for a moment obey the mandate of our great Critic, and conſider theſe awful ſcenes as a mimic ſhew, exhibited in the Temple of Ceres, by the contrivance of the prieſt, or, if he pleaſes, of the legiſlator. Whatever was animated (I appeal to every reader of taſte), whatever was terrible, or whatever was pathetic, evaporates into lifeleſs allegory: — Tenuem ſine viribus umbram. — Dat inania verba, Dat ſine mente ſonum, greſſuſque effingit euntis. The end of philoſophy is truth; the end of poetry is pleaſure. I willingly adopt any interpretation which adds new beauties to the original; I aſſiſt in perſuading myſelf that it is juſt, and could almoſt ſhew the ſame indulgence to the Critic's as to the Poet's fiction. But ſhould a grave Doctor lay out fourſcore pages in explaining away the ſenſe and ſpirit of Virgil, I ſhould have every inducement to believe that Virgil's ſoul was very different from the Doctor's."

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 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: — Vetabo, qui Cereris ſacrum Vulgârit arcanae, ſub iiſdem Sit trabibus, fragilemque mecum Solvat phaſelum. HOR. l. iii. od. 2. When Horace compoſed the Ode which contains the preceding paſſage, "the Aeneid (continues my author) and particularly the ſixth Book, were already known to the public Donat. in Virgil. Propert. l. ii. el. xxv. v. 66. . The deteſtation of the wretch who reveals the Myſteries of Ceres, though expreſſed in general terms, muſt be applied by all Rome to the author of the ſixth Book of the Aeneld. Can we ſeriouſly ſuppoſe that Horace would have branded with ſuch wanton infamy one of the men in the world whom he loved and honoured the moſt Hor. l. i. od. 3. l. i. ſerm. v. ver. 39, &c. ?

"Nothing remains to ſay, except that Horace was himſelf ignorant of his friend's allegorical meaning; which the Biſhop of Glouceſter has ſince revealed to the world. It may be ſo; yet, for my own part, I ſhould be very well ſatisfied with underſtanding Virgil no better than Horace did."

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, 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 example in the Republic of Letters, and hardly to be paralleled among the diſciples of DominicLetter to Warburton by a late Profeſſor, &c. p. 9. 2d edition.." 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 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) whom his friend Pope beheld in ſo clear a viſion, that he ſeems to have given us a prophetical portrait of his own Commentator: Critics I ſaw, that others' names efface, And fix their own, with labour, in the place; Their own, like others', ſoon their place reſign'd, Or diſappear'd, and left the firſt behind. 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 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 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 geniusNotes on the Epiſtle to Auguſtus, ver. 210.." 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 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 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. 'Tis ſaid by one, who, with this candid claim, Has gain'd no fading wreath of critic fame.]

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, 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 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 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 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, like the dagger of Brutus, it gave the moſt painful blow, from the character of the aſſailant: "All the conſpirators, ſave only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caeſar; He, only, in a general honeſt thought, And common good to all, made one of them." 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. His hallow'd ſubject, by that Law forbid, Might ſtill have laid in ſilent darkneſs hid.]

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: C'eſt donc bien vainement que nos auteurs décus, Banniſſant de leurs vers ces ornemens reçus, Penſent faire agir Dieu, ſes ſaints, et ſes prophetes, Comme ces dieux éclos du cerveau des Poëtes; Mettent à chaque pas le lecteur en enfer; N'offrent rien qu' Aſtaroth, Belzebuth, Lucifer. De la foi d'un Chrétien les myſteres terribles D'ornemens egayés, ne ſont point ſuſceptibles. L'Evangile à l'eſprit n' offre de tous côtés Que penitence à faire, et tourmens merités: Et de vos fictions le mêlange coupable, Même à ſes vérités donne l' air de la fable. Et quel object enfin à preſenter aux yeux Que le Diable toujours hurlant contre les cieux, Qui de votre héros veut rabaiſſer la gloire, Et ſouvent avec Dieu balance la victoire. Poetique de DESPREAUX, chant iii. ver. 193, &c.

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 charmesMarmontel Poetique Françoiſe.." I am not ſo vain as to think of ſucceeding in the point where theſe immortal authors have failed; and I muſt beg my 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 deſignTo 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, Non aſpettar mio dir più, nè mio cenno Libero, dritto, ſano è tuo arbitrio, E fallo fora non fare a ſuo ſenno.

NOTE VIII. VERSE 377. Who ſcorn'd all limits to his work aſſign'd, Save by th' inſpiring God who rul'd his mind.]

"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. WE ſee thy fame traduc'd by Gallic wit.]

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 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: 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . . . . . . . . . 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . Anthologia, p. 70. Edit. Oxon. 1766. On Parthenius the Phocenſian, who calumniated Homer. Here, though deep-buried he can rail no more, Pour burning pitch, on baſe Parthenius pour; Who on the ſacred Muſes dar'd to ſpirt His frothy venom and poetic dirt; Who ſaid of Homer, in his frantic ſcorn, The Odyſſey was mud, the Iliad thorn; For this, dark Furies, in your ſnakes enroll, And through Cocytus drag the ſland'rous ſoul.

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. 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 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 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. E'en Socrates himſelf, that pureſt Sage, Imbib'd his Wiſdom from thy moral page.]

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, " 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 ." DION. CHRYS. p. 559.

NOTE III. VERSE 119. How high ſoe'er ſhe leads his daring flight, &c.]

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 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 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 , 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, ſmiling at his profuſion, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 .

NOTE IV. VERSE 126. Yet may not Judgment, with ſevere diſdain, Slight the young Rhodian's variegated ſtrain.]

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 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 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. Virgil ſinks loaded with their heavy praiſe.]

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 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: Primus ego in patriam mecum, modo vita ſuperſit, Aonio rediens deducam vertice Muſas: Primus Idumaeas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas; Et viridi in campo templum de marmore ponam Propter aquam, tardis ingens ubi flexibus errat Mincius, et tenerâ praetexit arundine ripas. In medio mihi Caeſar erit, templumque tenebit, &c.

Theſe lines, in which Virgil expreſſes his intention of dedicating a temple to Auguſtus, have been conſidered as the nobleſt allegory of ancient Poetry Hurd's Horace, vol. ii. page 44. ; 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 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: Namque erit ille mihi ſemper Deus, illius aram Saepè tener noſtris ab ovilibus imbuet agnus. ECLOG. I. Ingredere et votis jam nunc aſſueſce vocari. GEORG. I.

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 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 CiceroA Friend who poſſeſſes much elegant erudition, has remarked to me, that the learned Prelate is particularly unhappy in his aſſertion reſpecting the uſe of the word ardens—an aſſertion completely contradicted by the following paſſages from Lucretius and Virgil: Vulneris ardenti ut morſu premat icta dolore. LUCRET. lib. iii. ver. 663. Quos ardens evexit ad aethera virtus. AENEID VI. 130. . As to the line which is ſaid to contain the moſt glaring note of illegitimacy, Tithoni primâ quot abeſt ab origine Caeſar, 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— Interea Dryadum ſylvas ſaltuſque ſequamur— and, having dwelt a little on that, to avoid too long a digreſſion, very naturally reſumes the praiſes of the Emperor, by alluding to the ſublimer ſong which he intended to devote to him hereafter: Mox tamen ardentes accingar dicere pugnas Caeſaris. —

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 Alexandria for his more ſimple mode of conſtruction, and ſuppoſes it an injury to the refined beauties and profound wiſdom of the Poet. ' 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 . 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 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, 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 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 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. 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 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 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. 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 RemusThe foundation walls of which ſtill remain, and on them is built a modern temple, dedicated to two brother ſaints.—Roma Antica. . 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. Shall Hiſtory's pen, to aid his vengeance won.]

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; 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 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 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 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 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 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. Sanguis erant lacrymae: quaecunque foramina novit Humor, ab his largus manat cruor: ora redundant, Et patulae nares: ſudor rubet: omnia plenis Membra fluunt venis: totum eſt pro vulnere corpus. Lib. ix. 814. Now the warm blood at once, from every part, Ran purple poiſon down, and drain'd the fainting heart. Blood falls for tears; and o'er his mournful face The ruddy drops their tainted paſſage trace. Where'er the liquid juices find a way, There ſtreams of blood, there crimſon rivers ſtray. His mouth and guſhing noſtrils pour a flood, And e'en the pores ouze out the trickling blood; In the red deluge all the parts lie drown'd, And the whole body ſeems one bleeding wound. ROWE. Scinditur avulſus; nec ſicut vulnere ſanguis Emicuit lentus; ruptis cadit undique venis, Diſcurſuſque animae, diverſa in membra meantis, Interceptus aquis. Lib. iii. v. 638. No ſingle wound the gaping rupture ſeems, Where trickling crimſon wells in ſlender ſtreams; But, from an op'ning horrible and wide, A thouſand veſſels pour the burſting tide: At once the winding channel's courſe was broke, Where wand'ring life her mazy journey took; At once the currents all forgot their way, And loſt their purple in the azure ſea. ROWE. Such was the death of Lucan, before he had 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 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. As Leſbos paid to Pompey's lovely Wife.]

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 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: — dixit; moeſtamque carinae Impoſuit comitem. Cunctos mutare putares Tellurem patriaeque ſolum: ſic litore toto Plangitur, infeſtae tenduntur in aethera dextrae; Pompeiumque minus, cujus fortuna dolorem Moverat, aſt illam, quam toto tempore belli Ut civem videre ſuam, diſcedere cernens Ingemuit populus; quam vix, ſi caſtra mariti Victoris peteret, ſiccis dimittere matres Jam poterant oculis: tanto devinxit amore Hos pudor, hos probitas, caſtique modeſtia vultus. Lib. viii. v. 146. He ceas'd; and to the ſhip his partner bore, While loud complainings fill the ſounding ſhore; It ſeem'd as if the nation with her paſs'd, And baniſhment had laid their iſland waſte. Their ſecond ſorrows they to Pompey give; For her as for their citizen they grieve: E'en though glad victory had call'd her thence, And her Lord's bidding been the juſt pretence, The Leſbian matrons had in tears been drown'd, And brought her weeping to their wat'ry bound: So was ſhe lov'd, ſo winning was her grace, Such lowly ſweetneſs dwelt upon her face. ROWE.

NOTE VIII. VERSE 296. Let Argentaria on your canvaſs ſhine.]

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 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 of domeſtic happineſs; and concludes with the following addreſs to the ſhade of Lucan: At tu, ſeu rapidum poli per axem Famae curribus arduis levatus, Qua ſurgunt animae potentiores, Terras deſpicis, et ſepulchra rides: Seu pacis meritum nemus recluſae Felix Elyſiis tenes in oris, Quo Pharſalica turba congregatur; Et te nobile carmen inſonantem Pompeii comitantur et Catones: Tu magna ſacer et ſuperbus umbra Neſcis Tartaron, et procul nocentum Audis verbera, pallidumque viſa Matris lampade reſpicis Neronem. Adſis lucidus; et vocante Polla Unum, quaeſo, diem deos ſilentum Exores; ſolet hoc patere limen Ad nuptas redeuntibus maritis. Haec te non thiaſis procax doloſis Falſi numinis induit figuras; Ipſum ſed colit, et frequentat ipſum Imis altius inſitum medullis; Ac ſolatia vana ſubminiſtrat Vultus, qui ſimili notatus auro Stratis praenitet, excubatque ſomno Securae. Procul hinc abite mortes; Haec vitae genitalis eſt origo; Cedat luctus atrox, geniſque manent Jam dulces lacrymae, dolorque feſtus Quicquid fleverat ante nunc adoret. But you, O! whether to the ſkies On Fame's triumphant car you riſe, (Where mightier ſouls new life aſſume) And mock the confines of the tomb; Or whether in Elyſium bleſt You grace the groves of ſacred reſt, Where the Pharſalian heroes dwell; And, as you ſtrike your Epic ſhell, The Pompeys and the Catos throng To catch the animating ſong; Of Tartarus the dread controul Binds not your high and hallow'd ſoul; Diſtant you hear that wailing coaſt, And ſee the guilty Nero's ghoſt Grow pale with anguiſh and affright, His mother flaſhing on his ſight. Be preſent to your Polla's vows, While to your honour'd name ſhe bows! One day let your entreaties gain From thoſe who rule the ſhadowy train! Their gates have op'd to bleſs a wife, And given a huſband back to life. In you the tender Fair invites No fancied god with frantic rites; You are the object of her prayers, You in her inmoſt heart ſhe bears: And, ſtampt on mimic gold, your head Adorns the faithful mourner's bed, And ſooths her eyes before they cloſe, The guardian of her chaſte repoſe. Away with all funereal ſtate! From hence his nobler life we date: Let Mourning change the pang ſevere To fond Devotion's grateful tear! And feſtal grief, its anguiſh o'er, What it lamented, now adore!

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.