NOTES AND Miscellaneous REFLECTIONS ON The FIRST BOOK.

BEFORE the Reader enters on the Notes, in referential Order, He will probably forgive a short Remark or two upon the Nature of this Kind of Poem: The Age we live in, so profusely overflowing in the Practice without stopping to consider Judgment, that, to common Apprehensions, Poetry gives no Idea but of Words with musical Cadences: that is to say, plain Sense, in Rhyme, and Measure.

It may seem surprising, that Pretenders to this Faculty (few of us having been thought guilty of too little Sensibility) should rest contented, under the Injustice of so mortifying a Contraction!—A Poet, when consider'd in this narrow Light, were so contemptible a Creature, that he must give Place to a good Piper: who unquestionably has Power of raising Sounds, much more melodious, than Adjusters of mere Words are capable of equalling.

The Truth is, Numbers, in their softest, and most pleasing Fluency, make up but one Part of the Means, mistaken for the End. They were design'd but as a Vehicle, that should insinuate the instructive Bitter, hid behind the Promise of Delight. The Music having gain'd the Ear, the Matter thence found Entrance to the Heart; and there prevail'd against Distempers, which, but for the fine Disguise it came conceal'd in, it had never reach'd with such Advantage; there being a Reluctance in our Nature apt to rise against a plain Reproof; as, in our Taste, against such Physic, as is offer'd us too coarsely.

[Page 38]All, as far as this, was well. The worst was, that this Sweetness in the Art expos'd it, by Degrees, to Profanation by the Ignorant. Prompt Adventurers were so glad, to find the Pleasant the most Easy, that This Handmaid of sup­planted Poetry, like the treacherous Mayors of the Palace in France, sat her down in, and possess'd, the Throne, she was design'd but as a Servant to.

The Learn'd will favour me with their Indulgence, while I note, for Satisfac­tion of some Readers, of the Sex, that will be always surest to hold Interest in a Poet's Purposes, that Epic Poems are so call'd, from a Greek Term for speaking; because, here, the Verse runs narratively: as Stage Poems, on the contrary, are call'd Dramatic ones, from the same Tongue, in Reference to their being Acted.

But it will be still more necessary, that some Definition of this Species should be also given, by an Attempter of it, who has Modesty, and wishes to avoid a Charge of high Presumption: Critics having represented it in such a formidable Light, that they could possibly have done no more, had they been join'd in a Confederacy to prevent Attempts to write at all, instead of furnishing Instructions how to write discerningly.—It will suffice, to hear but one or two of These, as Witnesses. The Voice is all the same; one Note throughout the whole Fra­ternity.

‘It is (says Rapin) the most bold, and greatest Work, that human Wit is capable of. All the Nobleness, and all the Elevation of the most perfect Genius can hardly suffice to form one such as is requisite. The Difficulty of finding, together, Fancy, and Judgment, Heat of Imagination, and Sobriety of Reason, Precipitation of Spirit, and Solidity of Mind, causes the Rarity of this Character's happy Temperament. It requires great Images, and yet a greater Wit to form them.—Finally, there must be a Judgment so solid, a Discernment so exquisite, such perfect Knowlege of the Language, in which he writes, such obstinate Study, profound Meditation, and vast Capacity, that scarce whole Ages can produce One Genius fit for an Epic Poem. And it is an Enterprize so bold, that it cannot fall into a wise Man's Thoughts but it must affright him.’

By this Time, it grows needful, that I hasten to cry out, and own, that the most vain, and empty Wretch in Nature, would be such a Poet as, conceiving the tenth Part of these prodigious Difficulties in his Way, which the French Critic had, by overheating his Imagination, taught himself to think were really there, should, notwithstanding such Belief, have Arrogance enough to undertake a Work, so terribly beyond his Compass!—under which necessary Shield of honest Truth, I will dare venture yet a little farther,—into what our own Sir William Temple has declar'd on the same Subject.

‘I am apt (says he, in his Essay upon the Art we are considering) to believe so much, of the Genius of Poetry, and of its Elevation, in Homer's and Virgil's EPIC Works, that I know not, whether, of all the Numbers of Mankind, who live within the Compass of a thousand Years, for One Man that is born, capable of making such a Poet, there may not be a thousand born, [Page 39] capable of making as Great Generals of Armies, or Ministers of State, as any the most renown'd in Story.’

Caveats, so high-strained as These, have made it necessary for an Epic Un­dertaker to say something, That may justify his Modesty. A Definition of it, therefore, in the humbler Light I see it by, may hope to shew it a less arduous Adventure; and demonstrate, that the Difficulty, however certainly considerable, is by no means so insuperable, as These Gentlemen appear to think it. Critical Systems reconcile two contradictory Extremes: and are, at once, too vast, and too restrictive. The Cause is, they lean with a too partial Biass, toward a few Great Names: to whose Example they would chain down Nature.

Many Friends of Fancy, on the other Side, mistake for Epic Poems, any Story, told in Verse, containing a wild Series of Romantic Incidents, related of some Hero, whom the Piece takes Name from. But there are scarce two Things in Nature, which more widely differ, than these Histories in Verse, from Epic Poetry.—I wish I could have satisfied myself with Bossu's Definition: It had sav'd me the Presumption of attempting one, myself. But His appearing to be neither full, nor clear; and having never seen a better; I am forc'd on the ne­cessity of hazarding a new one, of my own; which will, I fear, be, still, de­fective.

I take an Epic Poem, then, to mean some noble Lesson in Morality, delivered under Colour of One Action, which must be illustrious and important, in Itself, and in its Personages, interest supernatural Powers in its Successes, and be pro­bably, delightfully, and surprisingly described, in Verse; with ornamental Epi­sodic Parts, depending on, and rising naturally out of the main Tendency. Throughout all which the Poet keeps no view before him, but to strengthen, by Example, That one moral Lesson, he proposes to imprint, upon his Reader's Admiration.

To explain This Definition, by enlarging its Particulars.—A Man, who un­dertakes an Epic Poem, is not to write a History; but to propagate a Moral. Homer, for Example, had conceiv'd such Purpose.—It was not his Design to write the Fall of Troy; That Story was already known; and could have brought no Novelty, but in the Pleasure of the Verses.—Pleasure was not his chief End: He aim'd to give Advice. His Prospect was, to teach the Greeks, split into little independent States, that Union could recover Victory, when Discord had transferr'd it to an Enemy. The Grecian's Triumph over Troy was then dis­cours'd of with much Vanity, through all their inconfederate Divisions. Homer observ'd this Sense of General Glory, and deriv'd a Story from it, that would best enforce the Moral, he prepar'd to teach 'em: borrowing Names, and Incidents from that remember'd, and high-boasted War; but giving 'em a new, and proper Turn, for the Conveyance of his Moral only.—Had Homer not been born, till Alexander had made Greece one Monarchy, the Moral he would then have chosen had been the prosperous Effect of Power in one wise, and brave Man's Hand: and what sure Benefits accrue from Subjects Loyalty. As, we see, Virgil, [Page 40] living in a Time, when the Republic of the Romans had given Place to Monarchy, made it the Purpose of his Poem, to reconcile his Countrymen to single Sovereignty in the Person of Augustus: under Fiction of a Prince, brave, wise, and pious, who, being guided by the favouring Gods, establish'd, on the Ruins, of the old, a new Foundation, for Dominion of so much more Potency, that the whole Empire of the World was, by Decree of Heaven, to be included in it.—From That new Empire, then possess'd by Those he writ to, All his Readers had deriv'd their Glory: so that it was easy to induce them to confide in, and to look for, the same Blessings from their Change of Government, which their great Ancestors had gain'd, by Change of Country.

To impress the Moral forcibly, some Action is to be related, pointing out an Instance, in as strong a Light as possible, where this insinuated Moral was prov'd good by an Example.—The Action must be suitable: That is, of Dignity adapted to the Greatness of Events wrought into it, as Steps toward the Result last pur­pos'd. It must be single: That is, unmix'd with other Actions of detach'd, or independent Tendency. There may be Incidents producing Incidents, the more Variety the better: but they must be such, as serve but to bring forward, and illustrate, the One final Action, which intends Example from the Work. Neither is this Restriction any Nicety deduc'd from the particular Opinion of This Critic, or of That: It is a natural Necessity; and a Law of Reason; because Actions not producing one another, as Effects from Causes, raise unpointed, and con­fus'd Reflections; and divert, and weaken an Attention, which it is the Business of This Poem to bind down to one strong Object. An Epic Poet, of the Ariostine Model, is a Traveller, who, if his Road lay strait through Crete, would take the Labyrinth, in his Journey.

The Action may be feign'd, or real: If no Story, fam'd in History, can be directly levell'd to the Poet's Purpose, He may, then, invent one, to his Liking: For the Truth, here necessary, consists not in the Reality of the Events, but in the natural Veracity existing in the Moral.

It must be illustrious, and important; and the Persons animating it, Great Princes, or distinguish'd Leaders: because Every Man submits to shrink, at Consciousness of Dangers, or Misfortunes, which he sees have Power to punish Error in these Rulers of the World. The Weakness of our Pride (that, looking down upon, conceives Itself secure, in its superior Situation, from all abject Misery) not daring to exempt itself from Menaces, It must look up to: but ad­mitting, in this Case, the Apprehension of its own Exposure.

It must interest supernatural Powers in its Successes; the Influence of well-in­vented Circumstances, of this Kind, carrying Terror with it, that excites a Reverence, and induces Warmth, from enthusiastic Awefulness, into the Subject; consonant to those Impressions we are educated to religious Sense of: and which favour Disposition to derive All Good Propensities from Heaven; and throw off upon the Devil, all Instigations, which propel to bad ones.

[Page 41]It must be probably, delightfully, and surprisingly, described in Verse.—Probably, because whatever we suppose impossible, we find unworthy our Attention. De­lightfully, because Variety of well-mark'd Characters, surprising Incidents, smooth-flowing Numbers, Strength of Imagery, exalted Thoughts, and beautiful Expression, keep awake our Expectation, stimulate the Fancy, and detain us, to the Author's Purpose.—And surprisingly is added separately, tho' a connected Consequence, and unavoidable Result, from such a well-maintain'd Succession of unlook'd for, and still varying, Beauties.

Episodes are necessary Members of extended Action: which, without them, would appear too short, and general. But all these Episodic Members must be Limbs, not Wens: They must unite with such Connexion, that displacing any One, will make the Rest imperfect; and that adding Any would disgrace the Symmetry.

In general, the Note most capable of height'ning our Regard to, and elucida­ting the asserted Force of Epic Poetry, is from a Recollection, that it comes down recommended to us by a Choice and Practice, that to Reason, joins the best AUTHORITY.—And without a Parable, spoke He not to them. Being ask'd by his Disciples, WHY speakest thou to Them in Parables? His Answer is, Because to YOU it is given to understand the Mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven; but to THEM it is NOT given. That is, the Obstinacy of these People's Minds, misled by Habitudes of Evil, makes it necessary, that the Doctrine, I would teach them, should be cover'd, and approach attractively: where, else, the Pride, that alienates their Hearts, would rise against Conviction, press'd too plainly, and pro­pos'd without Disguise; as Humble Men like you are willing to receive it.

It is probable, the Hebrews carried with 'em, out of Egypt, this delightful Way of teaching; It is clear, at least, that they arriv'd to great Perfection in it, be­fore Greece grew civiliz'd from rude Barbarity. So far is it from true, that Homer, or some other Poet of his Country, was Inventer of the Epic Species. All the Books of the Old Testament abound with Instances, which prove the Skill of Hebrew Poets. And the Six hundred thousand Volumes in the Ptolemaic Library could hardly fail to have contain'd some of their Poems of this Kind, in their due Length and Dignity.

To shew how little Difference there is, except in Ornament, and Size, between the Epic Poem, as above defined, and the short Parables, I have been speaking of, I will select Two only: the first, taken from the Mouth of Christ Himself. The other I will go so far more backward for, as to the Reign of David, who was King of Israel so soon after the Trojan War, that he must necessarily have liv'd before the Time of Homer, to whom Greece would partially ascribe the Merit of poetically teaching moral Truth by Fable. I shall give more Instances than one, of the unwarrantable Presumption of those Grecians Vanity, in arro­gating to Themselves a Praise for Arts they borrow'd from the Asiatic People; and the Hebrews, in particular.

[Page 42]The Persecution of the Prophets, by the Jewish Priests, was what Christ pur­pos'd to reprove: but knew, their Power was great; and that the Pride, It had inspir'd 'em with, would render a distasteful Doctrine little Fruit, if not en­gagingly insinuated. Under this Conviction, the Divine Reprover thus addresses them. ‘There liv'd, says he, in a far Country, a powerful Land-owner, who had planted Vineyards, rais'd Inclosures, and built habitable Farms, on a de­tach'd Part of his Territory. He let out These to Husbandmen; and went, Himself, to where his chief Seat stood; upon a very distant Tract of his Possessions.—When the proper Season came, the Lord sent Servants to demand his Rents grown due. But those ungrateful Tenants, trusting to the Distance for Security from due Revenge, instead of Payment, murder'd the Demand­ers; They destroy'd in the same Manner, other Servants, sent with like Com­mission: At last, resolv'd to try their Boldness to the utmost, His own Son was sent, to whom, it was suppos'd, they could not dare refuse their Reverence. But the Tenants, on the Heir's Appearance, hoping, by His Death, to make Themselves a lasting Title to the whole Inheritance, determin'd on That exe­crable Deed; and kill'd Him also:’ —The Auditors inflam'd to an impatient Indignation, interrupt the Story, in this Part of it, and cry out angrily— ‘The Lord should have destroyed Those wicked Wretches, and let out his Vineyard to honester Husbandmen.’ And, there, condemn'd by their own Sentence, and struck dumb by conscious Shame, they catch the Application, before Christ pro­ceeds to make it: for, as the Text expresses it, They consider'd his Parable, and perceiv'd, that he spoke of Them.

In the second Instance, Nathan reproaches David, who had robb'd Uriah of his Wife, and caus'd the Husband to be murder'd. But the Prophet, under­standing well the Danger of the King's Resentment, casts about to take him by Surprize, and does it under this Disguise of Parable. ‘I am come, says he, to ask Relief from Royal Justice, in Revenge of a poor Sufferer's Distress, against the Cruelty of his Oppressor. Two Men liv'd together: one rich, the other poor. The rich Man had exceeding many Flocks and Herds; but the poor Man had nothing, save one little Ewe-Lamb, which he had bought, and nourish'd up: and it grew up together with Him, and with his Children. It eat of his own Meat, and drank of his own Cup, and lay in his Bosom, and was unto him as a Daughter. And there came a Traveller to the Rich Man: and he spar'd to take of his own Flock, but took the Poor Man's Lamb, and dress'd it, for the Man, that was come to him.’

What Effect this little Story presently produc'd the Sequel tells us. And David's Anger was greatly kindled against the Man: And he said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the Man, that has done This Thing, shall surely die, because he had no Pity. And Nathan said to David, THOU art the Man. He, then, pro­ceeded, safely, and reproached him, that he had tyrannically given way to an ille­gal Impulse of Desire; forcing away the only Wife, of a most faithful Subject, notwithstanding the unlimited Variety of Women, who were All His own. Had [Page 43] Nathan spoke the Truth thus plainly, at its opening, It had prov'd, perhaps, of dangerous Consequence to his own Life: but the Cloud of the Invention shielded him; and the King's Passions having first been artfully secur'd in the Reproacher's Interest, the Reproach'd, who had confess'd a generous Sense of the Dishonesty, while not consider'd as his own, became asham'd to disavow his Virtue, when the Guilt laid Claim to his Confession. So David said to Nathan, ‘—I have sinn'd against the Lord.’ —It is impossible to produce a livelier, or more pathetic, Proof, both of the Nature and the Power of Epic Poetry: For it is evident, that these Two Parables differ in nothing, but their Want of Names, Extent, and Paint of Circumstance, from the Poems of That Nomination.

From their general Nature, I proceed to the particular Consideration of this new Attempt, upon the Plan of Gideon.

A Poet, in an Age so factious as the Last has been, must have been blind, not to discern the Usefulness of recommending Quiet, to a stormy Generation. It were saying nothing to the Purpose, to object, that we are now remote from Israel's Case, under no Yoke of Conquest, and above all Danger from a foreign Enemy. Civil Contest will be always the most likely Means of calling in, and aid­ing the Attempts of, such an Enemy. We have seen too recent Proofs, to doubt that Certainty. But, not to dwell unnecessarily upon our present happy Prospects, our invaded Ancestors, too often, felt the Weight of such a Situation, as had made a Gideon the most welcome Public Blessing.—Could they have found him, and could all his Miracles have serv'd but to unite them in one Wish, and one Endeavour, far less lasting, and less bloody, had Those various Insults, then, been represented, under the Disgrace whereof our History blushes, while it tells the Triumphs of so many Conquests over us,—by Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans!—Where, therefore, is the Nation to be found, that better ought to like, than Ours, a strong Example, to so sound a Moral, as, that tho' Disunion should enslave a People, joint Attachment to the Legal Government could soon recover, and protect lost Liberty?

To cloathe this Moral in an Action, some such disunited People was to be made Choice of, suff'ring under foreign Conquest, from Effect of their Divisions, and, when every human Hope had fail'd 'em, rais'd, at once, from their Despair, by Union of an inconsiderable Number, under a Restorer of their Laws and Freedom.

This being what the Critics call the Allegorical, or General, Plan, I never could have found a fitter Action to illustrate it, than the Redemption of the He­brews, under Gideon's Conduct, from the Yoke of foreign Conquest, as impos'd with infinite Contempt and Cruelty, by a confederate Body of Arabian Princes; whom the sacred Writ distinguishes by the joint Name of Midianites. For the Events of this great War are, there, so comprehensively related, as to suit at once with the Design, they are selected for, and leave sufficient Scope for bold Invention, and Embellishment, in the particular Deduction. Whereas the Scripture History of David (Mr. Cowley's Choice) was a completed one, as Mr. Rymer has objected to it, and is so circumstantially describ'd, as to restrain a [Page 44] Poet's Fancy. Mr. Dryden, for this Reason, could not have succeeded, in That favourite Design of His, for forming a new Epic Poem from the Story of our Civil Wars in the last Century. Yet, I remember he has somewhere told us, that King Charles the Second, whom he had acquainted with his Purpose, very much approv'd it: notwithstanding which, I take it to have been to the Advan­tage of That Great Man's Memory, that his Design was never executed. The Story was too recent, to be treated, as it ought; and the sublimest Beauties of Invention would have lost their Force on Readers, in whom sad and deep Impres­sions, from the Misery of the real Facts, must needs have made All Fiction seem too sportive, and an unbecoming Freedom taken with their solemn Sorrow. It was the very Case of Lucan; and his Subject barring out all Aids of the Poetic Kind, at least Those warm ones, which let loose Imagination, his Pharsalia gain'd no Rank but among Histories; and Verse, indeed, is all the Right of That great Work to be consider'd, as a Poem.

The Mention, here, of Mr. Rymer leads me to remember an Objection, which, I think, he has unjustly made to Mr. Cowley's Choice of Subject, merely as a foreign one: as if it were a Violation of that natural Respect, a Poet owes his Country, to look out of it, for a great Character! If Mr. Rymer had no better Reason for this Censure, than that since Homer was a Grecian, and has writ of Greeks, and Virgil, being a Roman, writ of Romans, therefore, Mr. Cowley, as an Englishman, should have approv'd no other than an English Hero, the Argu­ment appears, to me, to be a very narrow, and mean-spirited one.—Nature is Nature every-where; and I should never look for any Force of manly Reasoning, from a Soul not large enough, to comprehend Mankind as One Fraternity.— However, more is to be said, in Favour of a Hebrew Subject, than of All, or Any of, the Rest, whatever.—The Reverence, we conceive, from the Old Testament, for Those Objects of God's more immediate Care, has made Them Every Body's Countrymen. Besides, the many Miracles, so terribly display'd among them, are peculiar Helps, to a Poetic Fancy; and adorn their History, above that of Any other Nation. Their Country was the Scene, too, of our Saviour's Life, and Sufferings, a Reflection, which entitles it to Veneration, from All Christians. And, to add one smaller Circumstance, that still gives Strength|'ning to their Claim, They were Inventers, or, at least, Improvers, and great Practisers, of Poetry. The Song of Moses, their first Leader, lists Him early in the Number.—Miriam, Deborah, David, Solomon, and innumerable other of their Nation, were fine Poets. And This ought, methinks, to recommend their Memory to the Respect of such, who would be thought so, after them.

Having said this, the Reader, I believe, will hardly be displeas'd to see a Specimen of Hebrew Poetry. We meet with many noble ones, in the Old Testa­ment; but they have the Misfortune to lie shadow'd under obsolete Translation. —One of our Critics has done Justice to the noble Images of these Originals, when he declares, that there is nothing, so soft, so tender, and pathetic, and at [Page 45] the same Time, nothing so grand, so majestic, so terrible; and so barmonious, as the Poetic Part of the Bible: to which All the Heathen Verse is flat, and low.

I look upon the Song of Moses, which Josephus says, was written in Hexameter Verse, to have been a Kind of Lyric Ode, because it seems to have been sung, to some String-Music, and to certain measur'd Motions of the Body. This is plainly gather'd from the Text. ‘And Miriam the Prophetess, the Sister of Aaron, took a Timbrel in her Hand, and all the Women follow'd her, with Timbrels, and with Dances.’ —And, when Moses, and the male Singers, had open'd the Ode, Miriam, and the Women, answer'd, as a Chorus, ‘Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumph'd gloriously: The Horse, and his Rider, hath he thrown into the Sea!’

I leave out the first Verse; as conceiving it to have been but a General Head, and begin at the next following.

It will not be denied, that here is the Sublime among these Images, more glow­ing, than in any Greek, or Roman Writer.—When Longinus seems to have been moved so strongly by That prais'd Exaltedness of Thought, where Moses, to express GOD's Power, with Energy, describes Creation, not in its extended gra­duatory Progress, but as starting to Existence at a Word: ‘Let there be Light: and there was Light’ —I half suspect, with the French Critic, He had heard of, but not seen, the Hebrew Bible. He could never else have passed by the prodigious Greatness, in the Paintings, and Conception, of the Ode foregoing; and in many other Tracts of Scripture Poetry. Would he have so profusely given his Admiration to this Passage, out of Homer,

and have said nothing, upon That of David?

We may pity, then, the Grecian Vanity, that would divide the Honour of inventing Poetry, between their Orpheus, Stesichorus, Alcman, Pindar, and a Number of their Countrymen; whereas, in Truth, the oldest of all These, who was Orpheus, was but a Cotemporary with Gideon: in whose Eleventh Year he went, a young Man, with the Argonauts to Colchos. — Now Gideon was 200 Years since Moses; and yet Moses died not till the Year of the World 2454. Forty-one years after writing the foregoing Ode, which must have been at his first landing in Arabia, after crossing the Red Sea, in the World's Year 2413.— So that the Hebrews had the practical Perfection of the Lyric Species for at least 200 Years before the Birth of this Assumer, Orpheus, whom the Greeks pretend to have been its original Inventer.

[Page 48]It is, indeed, the most unreasonable Improbability, that Greece should have been skill'd in so refin'd an Art as Poetry, when she was little better than a Savage; so deficient in Improvements of this ornamental Quality, that, as St. Augustine has noted, the more necessary Use even of the Grape was still unknown to the politest of those People (the Athenians), till by Dionysius, in the Time of Moses: and a Greek Poet, wanting Wine, had miss'd a surer Inspiration, than his Muse's. —Ericthonius of Athens was the first Instructor of his Countrymen, to yoke their Beasts, for Plowing: and That, not till Joshua's Days: And it was then, too, that the Use of Letters was communicated to the Greeks, by Cadmus, from Phoe­nicia, a close Borderer on the Hebrews.—Before that Time, having no Alphabet, how could they make Pretence to Writing? The same national Vanity was mani­fest again, in their asserting Ida, and Dactylus, who liv'd but after Joshua's Death, during the Government of Othoniel, to have discovered the first Use of Iron; when 'tis plain, from the Old Testament (Genesis iv. and 22.) that Tubal Cain, above a Thousand Years before, had taught Artificers the Workmanship of Iron and Brass: And nothing can be more demonstrable (from the so often-men­tioned Chariots, Weapons, Armour, and vast Magazines of warlike Furniture of all Kinds, which we read of, among Kings of Egypt and Assyria), than that the People of the East were exquisitely skill'd in such mechanic Knowlege, at a Time, when Greece had yet no Name among the Nations. Thucydides, their own Hi­storian, has confess'd, that in these early Days, wherein she would pretend to arrogate Inventions never Hers, she was unciviliz'd, and wholly rude: her Lands uncultivated, her Towns few, and mean, and the Employment of her Heroes, and high Demi-Gods, to rove for Robberies, by Sea and Land; steal Horses, and make bold with other People's Cattle; without Sense of Shame, or Secrecy.

But I forget the Elegy, which Mr. Cowley justly calls a most poetical, and ex­cellent one. — He purpos'd to have clos'd his Davideis with it.— It appears to me a Master-piece of the pathetic Kind: and I produce it, as an Instance, that the Hebrews were thus skilful, in the simple Species; which the Greeks, too, with their usual Modesty, put in for the Invention of, long after this fine Piece had been composed by David.

I have said enough, I hope, to justify my Choice of foreign Action, and a Hebrew one particularly.—I come now to the new Structure of my Verse: where I have us'd the Liberty of varying, every-where, the Measure, and of mixing, in one Poem, All the different Kinds, that can be rank'd among Heroic.—What I hop'd from this Extent of Latitude was, to derive Increase of Power, as well as Harmony. But, as this Choice, and Application of such bold Diversity of Num­bers, will require, and merit, some Defence, I will begin it with a previous Note or two in Answer to a modern Cry, that has been rais'd against the Use of Rhyme, in general.

It has been attack'd, but, since we learn'd to read, and understand, Blank Verse, from Mr. Milton's noble Work: which (by the way) lay half an Age▪ at lea [...], [Page 50] unfelt, unfriended, and un-notic'd, in the Country It now casts so bright a Lustre on. The Copy of it was (with Doubt and Hesitation) bought—for infamous TEN POUNDS! which not being made demandable but on Condition of a new Impression, never was receiv'd, at all; Its Author having been in his neglected Grave near Thirty Years, before his matchless Poem (and then only by Effect of One Man's single Penetration) drew the least Regard upon it from his Country­men! to the eternal Scandal be it noted, of our high-presum'd Discernment, and the miserable State of Patronage, among us!—This was the hospitable Welcome Blank Verse found, in England: And, now (so strangely can our Currents turn!) our Gentlemen of the new Light are indispos'd to see, by any other. They affect the Reputation of a Judgment too severe, to be delighted by Effect of Sounds: and would explode all Consonance of Termination, as too trifling, and effeminate, for Ears of Understanding.

What they have objected may, I think, be summ'd up in these few Particulars. Rhyme was a Goth, and came in with the Runic Impoliteness: Rhyme is unnatural: because it puts Constraint upon Expression: Rhyme is needless; because Blank Verse has nobler Harmony, and gives complete Delight without it.

As to the first of These, 'tis quite mistaken. Rhyme did not come in with those Barbarities, they charge it to: and, if it had done so, what nobler Parentage could It have been deriv'd from, than the same to which we owe our Plans of Liberty? But, in Reality, It had a far more antient Origin. The Hebrew Poetry was writ with Rhyme. The Persian, and Arabian, so peculiarly depended on this Ornament, that they have a Kind of Poem in distinguish'd Reverence among them (and call'd Cacideh) deriv'd from immemorial Practice, and devoted to the Praise of GOD, and godlike Characters. Its Frame contains from 50 to 100 Ladies: the two leading Verses rhyme together, and the Rest alternatively, ke [...]ping▪ throughout, but two Rhymes only. So that these Poems run the long [...]st, wh [...]n they light upon such Terminations, as afford most Consonances. There are many such, of Giami, Hasis, Schemi, Enviri, and others. Some of them appear to have been moderniz'd Reductions (as our Chaucer's Works, by Dryden) their old Language being grown obscure, in Both of the Countries above-mentioned.—So, this Argument, of Rhyme's Defect from want of due Antiquity, will carry little Weight against it; and might have an Answer still more pointed and particular, if it deserv'd to be allow'd, that Any-thing, in its own Nature good, could be the less so, for its Novelty.

They call Rhyme unnatural, because it puts Constraint upon Expression; which, however, is not true; for Poets have not only Liberty of changing stubborn Rhymes for ductile ones, but are oblig'd to do it, till they find such new ones, as assist the Sense, instead of stiffening, or obscuring it. But, were there All the Force they would ascribe to it, in this Objection, from Constraint on the Expres­sion, what a partial Eye is Theirs, who censure such Constraint, as an unpardonable Slavery, where authoriz'd by Custom in a modern Tongue; yet see no Conse­quence [Page 51] but That of a pretended Beauty where it borrows Sanction, but from the same Authority, of Custom, in the Antient Languages?

For, not to rest upon their hard, and troublesome Restraints, to Quantity, what Curb can possibly be more oppos'd to Nature, and her easy Order of Ex­pression, than their interweaving Words, and ranging them in so remote, and dis­locative a Position, as the patulae in Virgil's Verse hereunder, from the fagi, it immediately related to? for, while the genuine Construction is, You, Tityrus, re­posing under the Shade of a spreading Beech, the Latin was constrain'd, before it could arrange the Line to Harmony, to force it into this distorted Order.

That is, in English of the same Position,

What strange Perplexity is, here (by Custom, which we can indulge, with­out a Question) thrown upon the Sense, to liquidate the Sound, and make the Measure musical!—Let the Reproachers of constrain'd Expression shew where Rhyme has ever wrung an English Verse into so cramp'd a Posture.

So, again, in Martial,

What a charming Figure, in our Language, does This Latin Licence make, in the same literal Arrangement!

It must not be pretended, that these Instances are chosen ones. The very Genius of the Roman Tongue made such disjointed Shuffle of the Words, for ever necessary: And, yet, which of our Exploders of the infinitely less-constrain­ing Use of Rhyme would think it reasonable to condemn the not to be disputed Elegance of Latin Verse, in Detestation of a Practice, which is visibly unnatural?

Even their celebrated Horace, notwithstanding his peculiar Claim to the Con­cinnitas, and That Curiosa Felicitas, so exquisitely fine, in his Expression, could no more sail free from the oblique Propulsion of this Side Wind, that blew every Roman Poet wide of his true Course, than Any weaker, and more careless Pilot. Witness his

What would be thought of a Writer, in our Tongue, who, when he was purposing to say clearly, Ivy Garlands, the Rewards of learn'd Brows, rank me [Page 52] with the High Gods, should express it in this extraordinary Manner—Me of learned Ivy Garlands the Rewards Brows with the Gods rank high.

Surely, no Man, who, knowing Latin, knows that such Constraint as This is unavoidable, in all their Versification, will pretend to argue, against Rhyme, that It can possibly deserve Explosion for a Fault, It is not half so guilty of, as This allow'd bad Practice; which is, notwithstanding, overlook'd, and held as nothing, in Comparison with the acknowleg'd Graces, in the Tongues it throws such In­tricacy on!

Rhyme, then, is neither newer, in its Practice, nor less natural, in its Use, than other Licences to Verse, which, yet, its Enemies are very partially attach'd to.—We will see, in the last Charge, whether It ought to be held needless, from Superiority of Harmony, or any nobler, or more masculine Perfection in Blank Verse—or Measure without Consonance.

Lord Roscommon, one of the first Fallers in with the Applause of Milton (newly, in His Time, beginning to attract Consenters), writes his Essay on trans­lated Verse, in the best Rhyme he found Himself at Leisure to afford it: But, drawing near the End, and growing out of Humour with his Choice, breaks out at once into a rapturous Declamation, against Rhyme, and Bondage; in a Specimen, which he picks, here and there, and pieces artfully together, out of some of the sublimest Parts of Paradise lost, to recommend Blank Verse, where He, Himself, had just been disregarding it. I think this Manner of proceeding not a fair one: The strong Images, which animate the glowing Lines, he there selected, would have made Prose, Poetry. They shake the Fancy, and allow no Leisure to the Judgment to examine Numbers.—We are hurried on by the Exaltedness of Thought, and rise above Perception of the Mechanism! Would he have try'd the Cause impartially, he might have found a thousand Lines in Milton, every one of which had turn'd it quite to the Reverse of his Intention.

But now, to let the Reader see, what Kind of Verse it is, these Gentlemen would substitute in Place of Rhyme, I take the following Pattern from the men­tion'd Lord's Translation of the Ars Poetica.

We shall presently discern, by only placing these lean Lines in the prosaic Order, whether they have any Title to their Claim of Poetry.—VERSE, in the literal Sense, we must allow it to be call'd, because we but derive the Word from turning back; and These, I own, do That, as oft as they have stretch'd them­selves [Page 53] to their due Length of Measure. But observe, how readily this Prose may be unversified!

‘These are the likest Copies, which are drawn by the Original of Human Life. Sometimes, in rough and undigested Plays, we meet with such a lucky Character, as, being humour'd right, and well pursu'd, succeeds much better, than the shallow Verse, and chiming Trifles, of more studious Pens.’

If the Enemies to Rhyme had nothing better to produce in Room of it, than This, It would not fail to live and prosper; nor, indeed, is there an Argument they use for the Defence of their Opinion, but might better aid their Enemies; and serve (as most Deserters do) with double Violence, against its Masters. Meanwhile It is a pleasant Kind of Tyranny they are for exercising over Reason! First, they warp to their own Side the Pretence of Right to Harmony: and when they have apply'd all Sorts of Argument, unjustly, for their Service, and left none for ours, but what they think they may refuse us, as of Counsel for the Plaintiff, they would run us down, full Cry, as if we had no Weapons to defend ourselves withal.—It puts me in Mind of an honest Indian Traveller, who com­ing, in hard Weather, to ask something, at the House of a Great Man, and be­ing bark'd at by his Mastives, stoop'd for a Flint, but found it frozen to the Surface. Deliver me, said he, from the unreasonable People of this Country! They let loose their Dogs, and fasten their Stones.

In Tragedy, Blank Verse may claim a Preference, as coming nearer to our natural Mode of Speech, and yet retaining Dignity enough, by virtue of its Measure, to exalt it above Prose. But Epic Poets speak in Person; and, describe­ing at full Leisure, are suppos'd to have due Time for Ornament; and it will therefore be expected from them: so that Blank Verse does not suit Their Use; since where its Flatness is not animated, as in Tragedy, by restless Agitation of the Passions, It must ever lean to one of these Extremes: either degenerating to plain Prose, as in the Example before us; or becoming harsh, affected, stiff, and obsolete; as but too many Times it does, in our Great Milton, from a Purpose to induce Appearance, of the Venerable, where the Sweet was wan [...]ing.

The delightful Mean is Rhyme. It keeps Prose distant, yet helps Ease, as well as Energy: for it was never meant to cramp Expression, but lend Sound a Live­liness; and, what is evidently (and indeed peculiarly) a Benefit deriv'd from this connective Aid to Recollection, is, that by Retention of the Rhyme, the Memory catching readily at the coherent Matter, it becomes much easier to hold Ideas this way given us, than in Any other Form of Words whatever▪

Mr. D [...]nnis, who was one, of a too numerous Brotherhood, who suffer Pangs, in mortifying Lengths of Labour, at the Birth of Every Rhyme, and therefore, naturally hate the Child, that cost 'em too much Pain in its Delivery, was for turning his broad Axe against our very Root of Argument, and has denied, that Rhyme is musical, because, says he, there is no Harmony in Unisons. The Face of this Pretence is specious: but It ought, before it can have real Weight, to find some Poem, where All Terminations close with the same Rhyme repeated. [Page 54] No one Note, indeed, will make a Tune: But, as we hear with Pleasure the same Note sounded sometimes twice, or thrice (in solemn Compositions more especially), and then give way to different ones, the artful Intermixture of All which is Music, so any tuneful Note, tho' sounded separately, and more than once, is Harmony.—No JARRING Note can stand in Music. Discord there must be; but That Discordance is to rise, from Oppositions All harmonious in their proper, and disjunctive Particles: and but differing (not clashing) into Melody, by joint Con­currency of Variations; not of Inconsistencies.—Neither will it be needful to con­fess, that Rhymes are Unisons. The Question is of no Importance, or it would be easy to explain their Difference.

Another Reason in Behalf of Rhyme is, that no Language is so naturally form'd, as English, for receiving and becoming it. The Latin Verse, tormented and con­strain'd, as I have shewn it, in Pursuit of Harmony, could no way have admitted This: which that it was not in its Genius constituted for, or capable of, we need no plainer Proofs, than the sequester'd Muses of the Monks have furnish'd us— if ever Muse, at all, inspir'd a Monastery.

And again:

Which, to english 'em, just as well as they deserve, would thus be render'd.

And, for the other,

Not even the Greek Tongue could have been capable of Rhyme: nor had it truly the least want of it.—It was so musically ductile, so sonorously significant, that it was naturally a full Tide of Harmony: It seem'd to roll along, like one of its own Homer's Torrents, down the Side of a vast Mountain; sparkling, rapid, and sounding, in all Parts of its Passage.

Yet, fain would I, with all the partial Fondness of a Lover, set in Balance some Defects, of this triumphant Rival of the Beauty I wish best to, against That great Advantage, which it would be Blindness to deny her claim to, in the tuneful Texture of her Cadences. I detest, for Instance, those abominable Aids, call'd Expletives: a mean, and lazy Crutch, which not the lamest Poet of our [Page 55] Nation, now, submits to heave himself along by! They were the dull, and in­significant Stop-gaps of Greek Inclosures; a Degree at least below the venerable from whences, for to's, unto's, and fine eke's and aye's, of our old cleric Com­positions.

But if Sincerity refuses Patience to a calm Surveyor of this Grecian Licence, what would it not inspire Contempt to say, against the servile Disposition of a Race, call'd Commentators, who would have the Privilege, Their Poets us'd, of mixing in one Piece, their different Dialects, and altering Accents, at their Pleasure, pass for an Advantage to their Poetry! as if People, long habitu­ated to a Pronunciation the Reverse of many of those motley Rusticisms, could, in Reverence of a worthless Skill in weaving them together, quit their natural Partiality to their own Mode of speaking!—On the contrary, rejected Idioms must have been extremely irksome to a polish'd Ear: and left a Kind of coarse provincial Brogue, upon the best Performances.

Were an English Poet, for Example, to avail himself of this licentious Practice of the Greek ones, in extending these five Words to Numbers, and due Length of Metre,—These People were learned Writers; and admit he should be told that, in some Counties of the North and West, it was a Custom to give drawling Prolongation to their Syllables, and open all the Diphthongs; and that, by Assist­ance of this noble Privilege, He might spin out a Verse, thus elegantly,

Or, because it would be Pity to want Choice of good Examples, let it be suppos'd, that the Three Words—meet, glorious, Occasion, were to be stretch'd out, on some of these Greek Tenters.

It is visible enough, the Verses are fill'd up, by Help of such a frightful Anglo-Graecism. But from what Force of Custom could we reconcile such Jargon to a London Ear? No Matter what Relief a lazy Poet might draw from it. It would never give his Reader Satisfaction. Yet, allow it but to be suppos'd, that English had been a dead Language for about a thousand Years, and now but studied, as a learn'd one, for the Sake of antient Stores of Knowlege, treasur'd up in its Re­mains, in That Case, even the manifest Absurdity above, as grosly as it seems to shock us, in a living Tongue, had pass'd, perhaps, unnotic'd, in the dead one, or but brush'd us, with a faint Perception.

But Peace be to the Manes of the Greek, and Latin Tongues! Their very Faults are venerable; from the early Prejudice, that roots a Reverence in us, for these first Imprinters of our School Ideas.—The modern Languages have no such Right to Preference; and their Defects may be observ'd more easily, and censur'd with less Danger.—Tassone, noting a most obvious one, in the Italian Poetry, [Page 56] confesses, with a candid Freedom, that he knows not, whether to impute it most to the Ill Fortune of his Country's Writers, or a certain Weakness in the Language, which, says he, wants Energy, and is unfit for high Expression. This Defect, in That so favourite Tongue, which stands acknowleg'd, by their own Consent and Testimony, chiefly flows from a Redundancy of Vowels, which, tho' sweet'ning a soft Sound, enervates it.—Italian is the Language, wherein Love would chuse to sigh, or Laughter to be light, and wanton. It supplies, with Fulness and De­light, the Uses of Intrigue, and Conversation; but wants Weight and Spring for Passion, and bends under the Demand of Comprehensiveness. 'Tis like the flowing of soft Sand, in Hour-glasses: seeming liquid, while confin'd to its close Currency; but flies dispers'd, and opens its loose Quality, as soon as shaken out, and trusted to hard Weather.

Not to insist, in this Place, on the too offensive Frequency of their Elisions, I make Haste to note another, where the rash Condemners of our own Excess in Monosyllables will wonder, I find Cause to charge it. But I take their Poverty, in That Particular alone, to be the Reason, why Italian Rhymes induce a Kind of leaping Levity, upon the Terminations of their Verses. They run generally in Stanzas, the Rhymes double, and the Structure in this Order.

• — Capitano,
• — Christo.
• — Mano,
• — Acquisto.
• — Vano
• — Misto.
• — Santi,
• — Erranti.

But disyllable, or trisyllable Rhymes, if I mistake not, carry with 'em some­thing of the Burlesque Air; and suit more aptly with that grinning Face of Wit, that loves to wear Grimace upon good Sense, like Hudibras, than with the grave and serious Majesty, that ought to dignify the Epic Poetry.

Both these Defects are French, as visibly, as they must be confess'd Italian. But they find some Remedy in France, in that their Accent frequently is plac'd on the last Syllable of their long Words; and so their Rhymes appear to terminate more gravely, than Italian ones; which carry it upon their last excepting one. Take an Example of this best Kind of French accenting, from Boileau.

Amours

Discours.

Unif [...]rme

Endorme.

Ennuyer

Psalmodier.

Lecteur

Achepteur.

[Page 57]Here, All the Rhymes depend upon the terminating Syllable: But, yet they are not careful to preserve this Benefit; too frequently degenerating into double Rhymes, like the Italians, as in this, of the same Boileau.

I will english these four Lines, as near as I can do it, to the very Trip of the French Cadence; that the Reader may conceive a proper Notion of their debonair Heroics.

I judge with a too partial Ear, or there is something so distastefully alert (to use a Phrase of their own furnishing) in the pert Skipping, of this Verse, a Kind of Pause-check'd Recoil of Motion, like the Half whirl of a Spinning-wheel,— like the unlacing of a Muse, as Mr. Hobbes expresses it, or, to hit the Image better, in Lord Dorset's Simile, like the unvaried Rumbling of a Wheel-barrow, that the Numbers of their serious Poems seem as ill-adapted to their Subjects, as Jigg Tunes to a Church Anthem.—We may discover, in their very Verse, the dapper Genius of their Nation: a Sort of spirited, or animal, Vivacity, that dances gaily thro' the Fancy, without stopping at the Judgment. I except their few Examples (which have been by Nature too excepted) of a fierce, yet steady, Fire, and a Reflection both profound, and volatile.

Concerning other modern Tongues, it will be needless to say much. What has been hinted, of Italian, will effectually include the Spanish, and the Portu­guese; the German must be own'd worth great Regard for its Antiquity, and Manliness; but will content itself with That just Praise, and claim no Merit from its Harmony. Whatever Roughness English may be thought to have retain'd, is but of Saxon Origin; and, to acknowlege a too obvious Truth, Poetry in High-Dutch, is like the Nile among its Cataracts: It may be rapid, and deep; but 'tis tumbling, and terrible: It has its Course obstructed, every-where, by Mountains it must clamber over.—To carry Poetry still further North, would be but drag­ging her to seek for Friends, among her Enemies, the Goths, and Vandals.

The English then, of modern Tongues, is fitted best for Poetry. Its copious Choice of Monosyllables (which many have been rash enough to call a Blemish) make it strong, significant, and comprehensive. Its Derivatives, from Greek and Latin, have adorn'd it with Variety of Cadences; and intermix'd its masculine Excess of Consonants with a melodious Fluency, from interposing Vowels.—It adorns, and is adorn'd by, Rhyme; yet takes it in but as a Subject, not obeys it, as her Tyrant: It is grave, slow, stately, soft, swift, wanton, or majestic. It [Page 58] has all the Lentor of Complaint and Pity; yet has all the Transport of excursive Energy: It is an inexhaustibly full Treasury, supplied from the selected Tributes of whatever was most excellent, in other Speeches; but possesses them with so improv'd an Aptitude, as to have made That HONEY, which was raw Juice, in the Flowers It drew it from.

But I digress too far from what I had begun to say, upon the Structure of my Verse, which differs little from a Species, Mr. Cowley, toward the Close of the last Century, first reduc'd to Practice, and misnam'd Pindaric: But if he conceiv'd a Greek Name necessary, Dithyrambic had, I think, express'd his Pur­pose better. From the Latitude of so diversify'd a Numerosity, there must arise a fuller Harmony, than can consist with common Measure. Else, a Concert can be equall'd by a single Instrument: our usual Couplet-writing sooner satiates, by too frequent, and too limited Returns, of the same Measure. Whereas, in this perpetual Change of Cadence, and new Course of Numbers, the Attention is beat up, provok'd, and render'd lively; the Ear, every-where, reliev'd; and Images of Actions, Sounds, or Things, how different soever they may be, are cloath'd with Words, best suited to their Nature.

The Compass, and the Freedom of this Range of Verse, have recommended its Attempt to many Practisers in Odes, and such brief Sallies; but, too generally, with bad Success: They check'd the Gracefulness of Stepping, by too visible a Fear to fall. Like Children, who, first learn to go alone, they took short, tottering Starts; and hung upon, and rested at, All stopping Places, they could stretch their Hands to. They confin'd their Muse, too humbly, to a Lyric Length of Leading-strings: and gave the snug, set, round-head Crop, to Stanzas, that should flow out cavalierly. Pindaric, in short Measure, is a Woman of Quality, in Knee-deep Petticoats; she may have very well-shap'd Feet: but they can never be so fine, as to atone the Indecorum. Lyric Numbers carry song-like and familiar Levity, quite inconsistent with the Epic Gravity. A few bold Writers of Pindaric Odes have ventur'd, now-and-then, as far as the Hexameter: but hardly dar'd so much as dream of the Heptametrical seven-footed Line, of fourteen Syllables: Indeed the shortest Measure is too long, unless That Length is fill'd with Meaning. For nothing can be more ridiculous, than a weak lan­guishing Extent of Verse without proportion'd Vigour in the Sentiment: Such Verse plays loose, like some vast main Sail of a Ship, that flags, and flutters heavily upon the Prospect of a Breeze, but presently falls back against the Mast, for want of Wind, to swell it into Energy. It is in Poems such as These, where, as was paintedly express'd by Mr. Pope (but might have been still more so, by his length'ning out his second Verse to the Heptameter Extent just mentioned, and hereunder given it by an Addition only of the two small Words, in Roman Cha­racters)

[Page 59]Mr. Dryden, who was willing enough to allow That Praise to Mr. Cowley, justly due to him for having introduc'd a new, and noble Way of Writing, is, how­ever, of Opinion, that much still was wanting to his Practice, of That wish'd Perfection, which This Kind of Verse seem'd capable of. He instances the Roughness, and the oft-deficient Numbers: The Truth is, Mr. Cowley's Judg­ment, not his Ear, deceived him. What his learn'd, and Reverend Editor would represent, as an Effect of generous Negligence, in a too active Race of Fancy, seeming to have been the cool, and most deliberate Result of wrong Election: we may plainly gather This, from his own Note to the first Book of Davideis; where he speaks of This strange Line.

It was in his Intention, to express the Struggle of an overflowing Lustre, labouring for Room, in the whole Breadth of Heaven.—I am sorry (says Mr. Cowley) that it is necessary to admonish the most Part of Readers, that it is not by Negligence, that this Verse is so loose, long, and, as it were, vast: It is to paint the Nature of the Thing, which it describes: which I would have observ'd in divers other Places, that else will pass for very careless Verses. And then, he names these following.

And This,

Painting the Image, by the Sound, is, questionless, one of the liveliest Beauties, of which Verse is capable. But how far That is done, by running out of Measure, and admitting plain Prose, as an Ornament in Poetry, I leave to be determin'd by the Judgment of the Reader. He will recollect, that Homer was, and Virgil (in his Imitation) every-where, ambitious of this verbal colouring: but They neither of 'em thought it necessary to That End, to disarray, and prosify their Numbers. On the contrary, they rais'd, and added to, their Harmony, by a melodious Latitude, that circumscrib'd, at once, and dissipated, by Effect of this all-com­prehending Practice. Mr. Cowley needed not have started out of Numerosity, to reach effectually the View before him.—For Example—

For the Second,

For the Third,

[Page 60]And here are three successive Instances, of the great Use and Benefit, an English Poet has it in his Power to make, by sparingly (and always aptly) daring to launch out, into the long Heptameter Extent of Measure. But there will be found too much obstructive VOID, in this poetic Saul's big Armour; if a Dwarf, in Genius, should attempt to wear it.

Mr. Cowley's Ear indulg'd him in another equally untuneful Practice, which (in Reverence to the never-failing strong Characteristic of the Tribe of Imitators) the Implicites in His Track have All, with devious Diligence, been careful not to start a Step from. He, too often, plac'd his Pauses, in the wrong Part of his Verse. They should, in the long Measures, be found always posited exactly. I subjoin an Instance of the Error.

Here was nothing, that resembled Numbers: no Harmony at all, unless the Reader paus'd at Nume in the Word numerous: and if he did so pause, in that divided Word, he made a disagreeable Hiatus, in the Sense; and would have wounded a nice Ear, as harshly as an old Greek Expletive. How infinitely more majestically, flows the Verse hereunder, tho' the Measure is the same, and Both are Mr. Cowley's!—for no other Reason but, because the Pause is, here, plac'd rightly.

Run about, indeed, may want a little of the purpos'd Greatness, from the too light Vulgarity of the Expression.—Strive to fly, had been, perhaps, more aptly suited to both Sound, and Image. But I introduce the Verse, in this Place, only with a View to the right placing of its Pause, so wrongly judg'd in the preceding one.

That noble Writer seems to have been sensible of the Perplexity, this Rough­ness of his Numbers, now-and-then, must throw a Reader into. For he gives a most exact Description of Pindaric Verse (as he then practis'd it) in his Ode upon the Resurrection.

This was the true Condition under which he left it. But if he had liv'd to give the needful Hand to what he so successfully had introduc'd, 'tis probable, he [Page 61] would have so far chang'd his Practice, that it had been nearlier describ'd, in This, from his fine Ode, on Liberty.

A Species, once, I think, was tried in Tragic Poetry, not wholly differing from this new Composite Order. Aristotle notes it of a Work of Cheremon, a Scholar of Socrates. The Piece was call'd the Centaur, and compos'd, he says, of All the different Sorts of Verse. He should have added, except long ones: For he disapproves That Practice, in dramatic Works, because Iambics, and Tetra­meters, and such SHORT Measures were too skipping, and too light, for serious Poetry. Our Language carries natural Gravity, and might allow short Measures with less Lightness. Yet, they ought not to be often us'd, in Epic Writings, even of This new Sort: and never, but in Places, where they help the Harmony, without detracting from the Dignity.

That This Poem is divided into Twelve Books, was a Determination of so little Consequence, that 'twere impertinent to offer at a Reason for it. These are Points indifferent; and in which a Poet will not need to strengthen his own Prac­tice by Examples. The Extent of his Design should be a Guide, in his Division of it. Mr. Cowley professedly imitated Virgil, in his Choice of Twelve Books, to his Davideis: tho', I think, he might as justly have rejected Virgil's Number, as He (Virgil) had rejected Homer's: The Number of whose Books, too, the Roman would, methinks, more gracefully have been a Borrower of, than of his Episodes, and Incidents.—Sir William D'avenant springs quite aside from this old imitative Road; but into an Extreme, as wrong, tho' opposite. He is for neither Books, nor Proposition, Invocation, or Machinery. Like some of those stiff-hearted Puritans, who dirtied his own Times, and would hear Sermons with their Hats upon their Heads, in Defiance of Church Ceremony. He divides his Gondibert into Five Acts, as if it were a Tragedy: and Each Act into Cantos, which may hold, he says, the Place of Scenes.—This Method Mr. Hobbes, in a long prefatory Tract, thought worth his Pains to justify; but was, I think, Himself, the sole Supporter of his Argument. In Matters left indifferent, the old Way, if not best, is sure to be the modestest. For my Part, if Division into Twelve Books needs more Reason than, because the Subject offer'd Matter, for That Number, I should think it fully justified, from the Division of That People, [Page 62] whom it treats of, into their Twelve Tribes: If still a stronger Reason should be ask'd for, take it thus. The Action of an Epic Poem ought not to be stretch'd beyond one Year; and Twelve Months make up the Division of the Term, so limited.—And now I enter on the Referential Notes, in Every Section mark'd progressively.

Sect. I. L. 2.—Seek, O Soul! some Heavenly Theme.

It was the Custom of Greek Poets to mix in one the Proposition and the Invo­cation. The Latins (and the Moderns, mostly, follow them) propos'd their Subject first, and then invok'd Assistance from the Muses.—It becomes a Christian Poet better, to begin with Invocation. It is a Way more solemn, and propor­tion'd to the Weight of an Address to our Inspirer, not alone to pray his Aid in the Performance, but his previous Guidance in the very Choice of what we go upon.—That Invocation should, by no means, be omitted, seems a Point agreed, for many different Reasons. A Work, that has its first Foundation in a Moral Purpose, owes a Reader (says Bossu) a good Example, for his Piety and Venera­tion. Add, that many Things must be describ'd, in Course of these Great Poems, which the Poet not being thought in any reasonable Likelihood of com­ing to so full a Knowlege of, by any common Means of Information, He could never hope to give his Testimony Weight enough to merit Faith, but from im­pressing, first, his Reader's Mind, with a Conceit, that Heaven infus'd it.—Sir William D'Avenant, then, did ill, to throw aside his Prophet's Mantle. What the Robe is to the Judge, the Poet owes to Invocation.

Sect. I. L. 18.—Redeem the Use of long-lost Poetry.

Every body knows, that the Original of Poetry was in the Worship of the Gods, and Celebration of their Glory. It is equally notorious, how degenerate It is, since, become in its too beggarly Flattery (as Mr. Cowley calls it) of Great Men. He adds, in idolizing Women; which last Observation, to discredit Gallantry He was so fitted for, and so excusable for painting, I would certainly have let alone, had I been Author of his MISTRESS.—To redeem the Use of Poetry, then, is to restore it to the Praise of God, to the Advancement of true Virtue, and to Animation of those noblest Passions, which lend Wings to human Ardour.

Sect. II. L. 4.—Wilful, they started from protective Grace.

Among the many Arguments enforc'd by Democratic Writers, against Mon­archy, It seems the most immodest one, and the least founded upon Reason, when they are for Listing God Himself into Their Party! From what Appearance they deriv'd this Claim, it is not easy to discover: since the Unity of Power [Page 63] ascribed to the Almighty, by Themselves, as well as their Opponents, does not seem, at all, to favour any Preference, of the remotest Form of Government on Earth, from That which Heaven is rul'd by. Yet there runs no Principle, more universally asserted, through the Writings of the warm Enthusiasts of the last unquiet Century, than, that GOD declared Himself aloud for the Republican System, by his personal Command to Moses, for prescribing That selected Form to his own chosen Race of People: For they insist, that the Mosaic Model was a Popular one. They hold it, too, a Claim assigned them with so full a Right to their political Free-will, that GOD submitted Laws, and Propositions, to the People's Confirmation, or Refusal: and became the Civil Magistrate of their Theocracy. That, when accordingly they found it proper to DEPOSE Him from his temporal Authority (I use the very Word, which Oceana, and many other of their Treatises, take Boldness to make free with) and to chuse Themselves a King, who should reign with them, in His Stead, GOD blam'd but their Ingratitude, confessing, and admitting, their asserted Right, (to Samuel)—It is not Thee they have rejected; but they have rejected Me, that I should not reign over them; and, that what is meant by giving them a King IN WRATH, was a Reproach, that they inclin'd to chuse a King at all, and so, but consequential Menace, that Their Monarch should enslave 'em, into a corrected Sense of That superior Happiness, they parted with, in Favour of him.

This still continuing to be the Light, wherein they see That Hebrew Revolu­tion, 'twill be pulling down one Prop of their political Fabric, to make plain, in Course of these Reflections, that the Government of Israel, as assign'd by GOD, was not a Commonwealth, but an Hereditary Monarchy: and that All the Hebrew's Miseries, in those successive Slaveries they fell into, for three hundred Years to­gether, were a natural Effect of Factions, and Confusions, which the Princes of their Tribes became divided by, upon assuming to Themselves, in their provincial Severalties, a secular Direction of the military Power, which, in their first Insti­tution, was the Sovereign's Prerogative, exclusively; together with a Right of Judicatory in the last Appeal on Civil Causes: only reserving to the Popular Assent or Dissent the Election, or Rejection of new Laws, originally to be brought before the Congregation, and enacted by and with the People's Approbation, and the Regal Fiat, of the Sovereign Authority.

I propose to leave it undeniable, that This Sovereign Power was vested in the High Priest, personally, and that Moses plac'd it, not in his defective Line, but, in his BROTHER's, who had many Children; down, successively, to whom, de­scended the Monarchic, with the Sacerdotal, sole Supremacy; and form'd That Species of Administration, call'd Theocracy, not to be understood, as if GOD, in his own immediate Person, condescended to be King in Israel; but as assisting with his influential Presence, always virtually (and sometimes openly, and mira­culously), to inspire, and actuate, the High Priest's Determinations. I pretend to make this System clear, in all its Branches, and to reconcile to it the whole Gradation of Events, to That destructive Period under Saul, at which Time, [Page 64] first, the Priestly Power became subordinate to, and dependent on, the temporal Royalty: as in the other Eastern Nations, that lay nearest to 'em.

It may merit Recollection, that the Papal Claim to an Infallibility, in Christian Spirituals, has sometimes made such near Approach to take in temporal Supremacy conjunctively, as in no very wide Degree to hold Itself remov'd from Prospect of a new Theocracy. And nearer still was That, of the old Caliph's Claim, in the Mahometan first Outstart of Enthusiasm.

Sect. II. L. 10.—Then GIDEON, wise, and generous Leader, rose.

This Line begins the PROPOSITION, (and the Progress of the Section specifies the ACTION, of the Poem.)—In its Opening, it is general—to teach, in the Ex­ample of the Leader nam'd, that the Inspir'd by Heaven are to apprehend no Danger, from the most unequal Opposition: all divided Power becoming weaker, on Exertion; while united moves direct, and still grows stronger, in That Motion. The Proposition next descends to the particular: declaring it to be the Redemption of Israel, from her Yoke of foreign Conquest.

It is a terrible Dust, the Critics raise, in their Disputes, concerning the best Way of opening Propositions. Every body agrees, with them, in recommend­ing Modesty: but Fulness, too, seems not at all unnecessary.—I can be as unsatis­fied with Statius, as Bossu has been, for his encumb'ring the Proposition of his Achilleid with Declarations, that his Hero had frighted the Thunderer: as also with his personal Boasts, how nobly He (the Poet) had exhausted Inspiration; inso­much, that Thebes, so sung by Him, should reverence him, as her second Founder. In a just Dislike of This, All Men, of common Sense, must join; but, from Effect of the same Sense, they ought to quit his Cause (I mean Bossu's), when undiscerningly attach'd to every casual Choice, of Homer, or of Virgil, he deduces an Authority to state Their Practice, as a not to be disputed Standard for All Epic Plans to follow.

There is a celebrated Ipse dixit, which has been too long consented to, upon this very Subject, of the Proposition, and which it is now high Time to weigh, and find too light, even after I confess it Horace's. If I have any Notion, what it is he means, He either has meant evidently wrong, or (which 'twere bolder to suspect him guilty of) has mis-express'd his own true Meaning.—hear him, in Lord Roscommon.

In the first Place, I can see no Reason, why, because One Man has undertaken to describe a War, and prov'd not equal to his Enterprize, Another therefore should be arrogant, in but proposing the same Subject. And, as to Modesty of Proposition, for the want of which the Writer is here treated ill by Horace, and accus'd of Noise, and Ostentation, I am frank enough to dare confess, that the Immodesty, if there is Any here, lies too conceal'd for my Discernment. Pray, what could any Author, who design'd That Subject, have contriv'd to say upon it, less, when he was entering on the Proposition of it? Where is the too much Fire in his Beginning? Smoke in the Progress can be nothing to our Purpose: why is there more of Pomp express'd, or why more Expectation rais'd, from a plain Promise to describe the Ruin of one Town, and Death of one Man, than to shew the Manners of many Men, and treat on the Affairs of many Cities? If we were not to expect Accounts, of not alone the Things Ulysses saw, but also why he saw them, to what End then did Homer promise any thing about 'em, in his Proposition? If we were to entertain That Expectation, certainly our Hopes are higher rais'd by Homer, who assures us, we shall hear of many Cities, and of many Men, than by the other, who propos'd to set before us but the Ruin of one City, and one Man's Destruction.

There is a Narrowness in these implicit Reverencers. They understand, and follow in their Author's Rear, with a too creeping, and too blind Servility. Who reads, and is not Horace's Admirer? and yet, who shall be afraid of saying, He would better have instructed us, by some intelligible plain Precept, on this Point, of Propositions, than by Two ill-understood, and wide Examples?—To conclude with my own humble Notion of the Matter, He certainly proposes well, who comprehends within his Proposition, the Extent of his whole Meaning, and adds nothing further: And He errs, as certainly, who, being scrupulously terrified, by Words without a Reason, is kept back by groundless Fear of saying more, than This or That Man would have said upon the Subject, and says less, than his own Meaning calls for.

Sect. III. L. 11.—Not to Pride's transient Phantoms poorly kneel.

I would not be misunderstood, in this Place, as renouncing Reverence for the Age, I live in, or for Any Great Man, who adorns it. (I except all such, whose Minds are no Partakers in their Greatness.) What I mean by my unfashionable, and not over-politic, Abjuration, is no more, than that I blush to find, it is not thought below the Condescension of a Man of Genius, to confine his Views to little Hopes, and transient Interests from the Powerful: His Business, as I take it, being rather, to assert, and vindicate, neglected Excellence, than to be poorly prostituting his Hosannah, to the HIGHEST. The Poet, and the Priest (Antiquity [Page 66] so join'd 'em) ought to guide their Ends, not, by the Humours, Inclinations, or immediate Passions, of the Age, they write in. They should carry down their Prospect through Futurity, and never rate their Recompence at all the lower, from their Person's being doom'd to die, before it reaches 'em.

Sect. VII. L. 2.—Had restless Midian pour'd her swarthy Hosts.

What People these Midianites were, into what Nations divided, how govern'd, and where seated, as also who are now their Descendents, I shall have Occasion to describe in the next Book. This Race had wasted Israel, for seven Years; within the last of which, about the Time of Harvest, the Poem takes Beginning: that so, the Unity of Action might be properly maintain'd, in comprehending only their Redemption, without Retrospect to their Invasion; which had form'd Two different Actions, and destroy'd the Regularity, requir'd in Epic Poetry. Critics believe they see, that for this Reason only, Homer commenc'd his Iliad, in the tenth Year of the Siege, and Virgil his Aeneid in the last Year of the Voyage. No doubt, they had been, else, incumber'd by Excess of Matter.

Sect. VII. L. 5.—To These old Amalek her Standards join'd.

This numerous and mighty Nation will have Place at large, among the Notes of the succeeding Book. They were the Hebrew's first and surest Enemies: First, because, They, first, attack'd 'em, in their March; when they were beaten, under Moses.—And surest, as the Israelites receiv'd particular Command from GOD, never to make Peace with the Amalekites, but pursue, till they had quite eradica­ted them. And this, at last, they very nearly had accomplish'd, after many hundred Years were past, first. What, in this Affair, I find least comprehensible, is, GOD's remembring, for a People, who Themselves had long forgot, this Right to Vengeance. They appear to have deserv'd it very little: it being after their Rejection of His Care concerning them. I am at some Loss, therefore, to account for the surprising Rigour of the Curse denounc'd on Saul, by Samuel, three hundred and fifty Years after the Injury receiv'd: in Punishment of but a generous Pity, shewn to Agag, when his Prisoner. As the Compassion was a Virtue, and 'twere hard, to think the Prophet's Love of Vengeance keener than the King's, the Anger could arise but from a Recollection, that such Mercy, shewn to Amalek, was a Contempt express'd, of Heaven: there standing out an un-re­peal'd Decree, for total Extirpation of That People.

Sect. VII. L. 17.—Their heavy Harvests load the plund'ring Foe.

From the Story of this War, as in the Book of Judges, It was predatory, and incursive: and the Hebrews, after their first Contest, had abandon'd all the Plains, and open Country, and secur'd themselves among their Fastnesses, on rocky [Page 67] Mountains: while the Enemy, maintaining Winter Quarters in some Cities, which they held on Purpose, made Excursions thence, in Summer, to destroy the Har­vest, burn the open Towns, and Villages, and carry off (as Plunder) People, Cattle, and whatever else fell into their Possession.

Sect. VIII. L. 2.—Where Half the MANASSAEAN Tribe, &c.

Jordan, that rises in the northern Part of Palestine, runs, almost strait South, through the whole Length of the Country; nine Tribes, and a Half, of the Twelve, in the Division made by Joshua, of the conquer'd Lands, had been allotted the Possession of That Tract, between the western Shore of Jordan, and the Neck of the Levant, or Syrian Sea: excepting only, that the Coast Itself, together with a Breadth of some Miles inward, was possess'd by the Philistines, and the rich, and powerful trading States of Tyre, and Sidon. The other two Tribes and a Half, being Those of Reuben, Gad, and one Half of Manassah, held the Country, lying Eastward along Jordan, which was conquer'd, first of All, by Moses, from the Amorites, and their Allies. But That Half Tribe of the Manassans, which is here alluded to, had their Allotment to the West of Jordan. It was a long, but narrow, Slip of Land, which trended, from the River's Brink, 'twixt Issachar, and Ephraim, almost to the Sea Coast abovemention'd. On a Mountain, toward the East End of this Slip of Land, in Sight of Jordan, stood the City of Ophra (Gideon's Birth-place), safe from Insults of an Enemy, by its impregnable Situation. At the Foot of this high Mountain, open'd a large, beautiful, and fruitful Valley, That of Jezreel; where the Midian Army is sup­pos'd to lie encamp'd at This Time, whence the Poem takes Beginning. This Valley of Jezreel has been the Scene of many bloody Battles. It was there, our Gideon overthrew the Midianites, Saul, the Philistines: Achab the Syrians; And, in more modern Times, the Tartars the Saracens.

Sect. VIII. L. 23.—This Tree a Shade o'er half the Mountain cast.

That there was a Tree, and a Bench under it, before Joash's House, we have the Testimony of the Bible, which informs us, that an Angel of God came, and sat there: but, that it was so large, and old a Tree, is a poetical Discovery. That it was remarkable however for its Size, and Situation, may be gather'd, from its being thought worth so particular a Notice in the sacred Story. But, because I have suppos'd it many Ages old, and yet in its full Flourish, It is necessary, I say something, in Defence, and Honour of these venerable Children of the Earth.

Pliny tells us of Oaks, growing in his Time, suppos'd to have been coeval with the World Itself. Their Roots, says he, were united, and rais'd into Arches, like the Gates of Cities; and the Earth was swell'd, about 'em, into Mountains.— Josephus has made Mention of a Turpentine Tree, that was thought as old as the Creation. Mr. Maundrel, in his Journey to Jerusalem, affirms, He measur'd one [Page 68] of the Few yet remaining Cedars of Lebanon, and found it above twelve Yards round the Body: and that, at almost one hundred Foot high, It spread out into five several Limbs, the least of which would have been singly a great Tree.—Sir Francis Drake informs us, that he measur'd a huge Mastic-Tree, in one of his Voyages, that was four and thirty Yards about! It is easy to infer, These vege­table Giants must have borne the Growth of no small Number of Ages.—St. Jerom, too, relates, that he had seen the very Sycamore Tree, Zacchaeus climb'd into to look upon our Saviour, when he rode in Triumph to Jerusalem.—But the Tree of Trees, at last, is an old English Dryad: one that Mr. Evelyn, in his Sylva, mentions, with becoming Gravity; and hands down to us the Record of such a Magna Charta in its Reverence, as deserves to be remember'd, and main­tain'd, to an immortal Length of Triumph. And no Doubt, It will be so, by those bold Sons of Liberty, who boast the Honour of their Birth within due Distance of its Shadow. The abovenam'd Gentleman asserts, from his own Knowlege, that there is This pleasant Kind of Privilege annex'd to an old Oak, which has, Time out of Memory, been the Glory of Knoll Wood, near Trely Castle, in Staffordshire: The Shade of This Tree's Boughs, he says, is very ample; and, in due Respect to its Antiquity, whoever will make Oath, on Birth of any Child who must call nobody Its Father, that This Child was actually be­gotten within any Part of Its Shadow, the Offence is free, and stands exempted from all Cognizance, whether of civil, or ecclesiastic Magistrate.—But, to return to the Longevity of Trees, undignified by so indulg'd a Sanctuary, Mr. Lawson, in his Tract of Orchards, has brought reasonable Arguments to prove, a Pear-Tree's Life may be a thousand Years. And truly, if the Age of Man, before the Flood, was from Six hundred to Nine hundred Years, it can be no great Rashness to imagine, that an Oak, so much more durable, and solid, in its Sub­stance, and not subject to the Dangers and Diseases, which disorder human Bodies, may be capable of living many thousand Years; the Soil suppos'd adapted, and no Accident arising, that might interrupt, or stop its Progress.— And thus much I thought it not amiss to note, in Reference to the Age I have assign'd the Oak of Gideon.

Sect. IX. L. 1.—The Morning rising over Israel's Spoils.

The Description, which this Verse begins, I took some Pains to make a pleasing one; but would not have it thought, I introduc'd it, to make Way for Ornament.—Not but Description is the Life of Epic Poetry; and it is There (as Boileau well observes) the Poet ought to lavish all his Fancy, and his Rhetoric; yet, if it serves no other End than mere Delight, the Poem will be found to languish; for, the Race of Action is too coldly stopp'd, in Favour of detach'd Ideas. BOSSU writes much, to say a very little to the Purpose, in his Chapter of Descriptions: Mr. Dennis is more clear, and hits the Point directly, in one short Remark of his Discourse against Prince Arthur. Descriptions, says this Gentle­man, [Page 69] ought never to be made, in Epic Poems, unless necessary; which they never can be, but in one of these two Cases; either where of Use, for giving us a reason­able Account of some Part of the Action, whereby to make it probable; or when they serve to imprint strongly some important Circumstance.

It is in this last View, that the Description of the Morning, dawning over Gideon, shadow'd by his Oak, was introduc'd, in order to impress a strong Con­ception, not of the Place and Posture simply, but of all the hostile Prospect opening before him, to convey a local Image, and transmit the Sense of Danger, and of his Reflections on it, from the Hero's, to the Reader's, Passions, as we see in common Life how forcibly Regards of Place assist Imagination. He, who had seen Edge Hill, or Newberry, or Naseby, would have found himself more strikingly attach'd, in reading the Accounts, our History records of those three Battles.

Sect. X. L. 12.—Here and there, high-mettled Steeds.

The Use I make of Horse, in the Progression of this War, being frequent, and considerable, I take Occasion, from their first being mention'd, in this Verse, to assert the Use of Cavalry among the Hebrews, lest some hasty Doubt, perhaps, might censure it, as not in Practice, in That early Period. And the rather, be­cause Homer, writing of a War much later, makes no Mention in His Work of Horsemen: but describes That noble Creature in no other Manner, than as har­ness'd to the skirmishing little Chariots, of his Greek or Trojan Captains.—How this happen'd in the Iliad I am not able to account for: tho', that his Country­men were then unskilful to back Horses, I can easily enough believe, because, not long before, they had mistaken the first Horsemen they had ever seen for com­pound Creatures, Half-Man Half-Horse, and given 'em the Name of Centaurs: from the Business they seem'd fondest of, which was, to steal their Cattle. But, that such, too, should have been the Case among the Trojans, must not be so readily admitted. Troy held the Empire, then, of Asia Minor, and drew power­ful Allies to her Assistance, from so many distant Places, that it is impossible to fancy, they were All unskill'd in Riding; when so many Ages before That, the Wars all over Asia had been dreadfully distinguishable for the Number of their Cavalry —Ninus, the Founder of Nineveh, had enter'd Bactria with Two hun­dred thousand Horse, besides his Chariots; which were above a Hundred thou­sand; Semiramis, his Wife, who was the Builder of Babylon, invaded India (says Suidas) with a Million of Horsemen: and of Chariots arm'd with Scyths at the End of their Axle trees, above a Hundred thousand, also.

It may be surmis'd, that Horsemen in such Numbers, in those early Ages, pro­bably were over-rated by the Inaccuracy of Historians: Let it be so; It has no Force against the Use of Horse in War, so antiently.—If, therefore, the Assyrians thus abounded in their Cavalry, It must be past Dispute, that bordering Nations also had the Use of 'em: and cou'd not have come so far with Purpose to invade [Page 70] the Hebrews, without bringing Numbers, in their Armies.—As for the Hebrews Themselves, Scripture is full of Instances, how early They were able Horsemen: and it had been strange, indeed, to find them otherwise, when we remember they came out of Egypt: where the Pharaohs were so generally powerful, in Arms, and so particularly furnish'd with fine Cavalry, that One of 'em pursued the Hebrew People, in their March to the Red Sea, with Fifty thousand Horse (says Josephus) and Two hundred thousand Foot; besides all the Chariots, of Egypt.

Sect. X. L. 14.—In other Parts, the Scyth-arm'd Chariots driv'n.

Concerning these Chariots, an antient and terrible Invention, and of infinite Effect, in those vast open Plains, of Asia, the most proper Place to speak, at large, will be in the Remarks upon the second Book: and, there, a full Description will be found, not only of the Chariots Themselves, but of the different Ways of using, and avoiding them; and what Effects they did produce; and might have been made capable of producing.

Sect. X. L. 22.—The tortur'd Drums, and sprightly Trumpets join'd.

The Antients made great Use of Drums; though differing, in Shape, and Mode of beating, from the Ways in modern Practice. They were not struck upon by Sticks; but with strong Pulsion of the Hands alone, and both at Top and Bottom; being ornamented, round their Rims, with thick-set Plates of jingling Brass.— And certainly, such Drums must have deriv'd their Use from the most early Times; having been found with the Chinese, when first discover'd by the Europaeans. And, for the Trumpet, there are such concurring Proofs of its Antiquity, in Holy Writ, that I was much surpriz'd at Mr. Pope's Assertion, in his Notes on Homer, that it was not yet invented, in the Trojan War! That War was in the Time of Abdon's judging Israel; and Trumpets were so long before in Use among the Hebrews, that the Ark was never mov'd, nor any Congregation summon'd, but by the Sound of this known Instrument. They had a Festival, too, call'd the Feast of Trum­pets. The Walls of Jericho fell down, at Sound of Joshua's Trumpets. Gideon blew a Trumpet, and All Abiezer was gather'd after him. Moses, in the very Wilderness, directs the making Silver Trumpets, whose Shape, and Dimensions suit exactly with Those, now, among us.—How has Mr. Pope then form'd this Notion, that they knew no Use of Trumpets in the Trojan War? Was it, because he found it not in Homer? Possibly his Greeks were, yet, too rude to have ac­quir'd the Practice in their Armies. Possibly they held it too inspiring, and exci­ting: as we read, that some of their vain Countrymen (the Lacedemonians) rejected it, long after, as a Stirrer up of Courage: which, it seems, they had a mind to represent, as naturally over-active, in their Constitution.—Therefore, march'd to Battles with the soft appeasing Sound of Flutes and Flagelets, before 'em: They would induce their Enemies to think, They rather found it needful to correct the [Page 71] overboiling of their Ardour, than propel and irritate it. Virgil, however, gives Aeneas a Trumpeter; and says, He had, before, belong'd to Hector: Virgil, therefore, thought the Trumpet was of That Antiquity: and, out of all Dispute, It was of older Origin.

Sect. XI. L. 1.—Light, from his Bench, enrag'd, young Gideon leapt.

From design'd Effect of those fine Prospects, which lay stretch'd before him: For the natural, and improv'd Embellishments of such a fruitful Valley, when survey'd together with the Enemy, whose Rapine held it from the famish'd Own­ers, must inflame the Spirit of a suffering Observer, into aggravated Sense of what he felt, and apprehended, for his Country. The natural Consequence of such a Flame, in such a Mind as Gideon's, was the rousing all those Passions, which break out in his Soliloquy:—and serve to open his true Character: the Reader being, yet, a Stranger to it: and It must have touch'd him in a fainter, and less animate­ing Manner, had It been, in a cool Form of Narrative, anticipated to him.

Sect. XI. L. 24.—Now, were some single Pow'r a gen'ral Bliss.

The Hebrews, after Joshua was dead, concluded only a slight War, of little Consequence, in the South Parts of Judah, during the Reign of Phinehas; and then, with one concurrent Lapse from any further Application to their instituted Modes of military Practice under general Attachment to dependent Regulation, threw That Care, in a divided Trust, to their provincial Heads of Tribes: who, now, had their allotted Severalties, in Territory, and in Civil, and Palatinate Pretensions: and fell in with the whole People's Disposition to improve, and cul­tivate their Lands; drinking (as the Text expresses this Desertion of the Public Duty, for the private Interest) Every Man under his own Vine, and eating under his own Fig-tree.

This universal Spirit of Defection met too little Opposition, from a Want of due Attention in their priestly Sovereigns, to the Civil Branch of their Prerogative, and of the Military still more willingly; as from their Turn of Education, less adapted to its Duties. They depended on the awful Influence of their divine Pre-eminence, and their Possession of the Ark of God, whereto lay All Appeals, and to whose final Sentence, in the High Priest's Voice, the People were injoin'd im­plicit, and direct, Obedience, under Penalty of present Death, by stoning; so, they took no Care to educate some martial Genius (such as Joshua's had been), and to attach him, by his Interest, to sole Dependence on the Royal Safety: under whose delegated Right to That Supremacy in warlike Exercise, the Tribes had been, till then, enur'd, and disciplin'd, and held unitedly together.

The Knot had long been loosening; but Love of Ease, and Taste of Luxury, now all at once dissolv'd it.—Till this fatal Lure, in their detach'd Divisions of the Land, the Want of Property among Particulars sustain'd no other than the [Page 72] general Interest. Hope of the future, from the State's Prosperity, kept every Individual Easy in his present Indigency: The joint Distress of their collective Body held it close compacted, like a Heap of Pebbles, in a watry Soil, froze hard to­gether: The new Warmth of Self-dependency, dissolving the Adhesion, Every Off-falling Pebble became a separate Body, and contributed no longer to the Tex­ture of the Universal. In this dispers'd Condition, what, before, had been im­moveable, by virtue of its Weight, lay liable, thenceforth, to be trod down by every Hoof; and only magnified its Breadth, to ruin its Consistency.

Plenty in Ease was the first Step toward Anarchy: It drew on Disregard of public Happiness: The next was Wealth with Luxury; to which succeeded Pride; and That, in natural Consequence, produc'd Contempt of Law; soon follow'd by Defiance of Authority. The sure Result of All together was Dissension, and Confusion.—Turbulent Ambition set up Every Tribe to wish, and act, with views to Independency; and under this relax'd Insensibility to National Coherence, the Remainder of the Canaanites (whom Avarice, not Mercy, had too indiscretely spar'd) took Arms against so visible a Weakness; and succeeded frequently in their Revolts: till they not only brought this factious People to the lowest Pitch of In­famy, but taught the Nations, that surrounded 'em, to think of, and to treat 'em, with Contempt: than which no State can possibly be curs'd with an unhappier, or more dangerous, Condition.

The Progress of all This was natural.—It help'd 'em little, that they still had Strength enough, to have repuls'd their Enemies. The Feet and Arms, like Those in the Old Fable, of Menenius Agrippa, thought it hard, that they should work to feed the Stomach: and destroy'd themselves in not sustaining, what they were sustain'd by.—While those proud Hebrews multiplied their Claims into lean Inde­pendencies, Exemptions, and Immunities, they were pluck'd, One by One, away, like the Hairs of Sertorius's Horse-Tail, which if pull'd at, All together, had been found irradicable.—It is in Bodies Politic the same, as in a Body Natural: In the Rapidity of some wild Race, a Man perceives a gaping Pit, before him; what a Happiness, in such a Case, to have the Seat of Counsel, and of Power, the same! He sees the Ruin in the Moment, that he shuns it in; for, Reason and Authority, concurring in the Head, put present Stop to the retracted Members; and they stand secur'd, upon the very Verge of their Precipitation. But, could we here suppose our Limbs stuck over with fine Mouths and Eyes, like Virgil's Fame, and the imaginary Argus, and that every Mouth, and Eye, because it look'd a little like a Face, would set up for a Head too, and lay Claim to Privilege of Contra­diction; what Consequence could we expect to see, from such a Popular Balance? Clamour, more than enough, there could not fail to be, to give Alarm to such a Body; but the Monster's Neck would run the Hazard to be broke, before each Member could be ask'd his Sentiment. There could not well be fansied a more lively Emblem, than, when Reasoners for Monarchy compare a Commonwealth to That imaginary Serpent, some old Writers dreamt of, with seven Heads, and but one Tail. The turbulent Reptile would, in spite of its big Hissing, only [Page 73] hang itself in every Hedge: whereas, with but one Head, It would draw all its seven Tails through, and find no Danger, or Incumbrance.

Sect. 13. L. 4.—How comes it He permits my Country's Shame?

The leading Character, in Epic Poetry, must be distinguish'd, not alone from other Characters of the same Poem, but from other Poem's Heroes. He is to be mark'd by some Peculiar, of a noble Kind, by which He would be known in every Company; not only as a brave, wise, glorious Man:—but as That very in­dividual brave, wise, glorious, Man.—We are not satisfied by a too general De­scription, even of a fine Woman; but we listen with full-pointed Approbation, when, besides the Attributes, She holds in Common with the other Beauties, of her Sex, we are brought closer to her Image, by Communication of some one Pe­culiar Grace, that teaches, and appropriates, HER separate Manner of engaging. Then, we form her, to our Fancy; and become acquainted with her Picture.— Thus, in Virgil's Hero, the Characteristic is benevolent Piety. In Homer's, It is Fierceness: and in Gideon, Patriotism.

Sect. XIII. L. last.—Will Israel's haughty Tribes be led, &c.

No Observation can be juster than is That, of the Political Writers, that Au­thority is POWER; and Reputation is AUTHORITY. The Nature of Things, and Actions, can be examin'd but by few: their Appearance reaches Many. Machiavel had Reason for his Observation, that the only Difficulty in Ascent to Greatness will be found at its Beginning. Never Man (says he) attain'd considerable Height, from low Condition, without infinite Fatigue, and Danger from Opponents. Re­pose a Milstone on the very Border of a Hill; It there lies fix'd for ever, if it wants the Impulse of some new first Motion. Let That Push be given, and not a Rock, in its Descent, will have the Strength to stop its Progress. All That Envy, which impels our Opposition, when we cross the Way of some new Riser, (from the natural Stimulation of a Vanity, that makes Comparison betwixt a Con­sciousness of our own Worth and His) becomes extinguish'd, in Amazement, when we contemplate the Hazards, of some terrible Reputation. The Honours, of a Man so dangerously rais'd, we can no longer look upon with Malice: we surrender 'em, as but the Perquisites of the advent'rous Post, he won 'em in: and while Everybody admires, applauds, expects,—Resistance is discourag'd, and falls in with Furtherance; till, now, the Man, whom All believe most capable, grows capable, in Consequence of that Admission.

However equal, therefore, Gideon might, in Nature, have been form'd, for Prosecution of his Purpose, as to his unnoted and self-reap'd Advantages, from Meditation, Study, Virtue, Observation, Courage, or Experience, It had been to disregard the common Course of Things, had I made slight of those Restraints, which heap up Mountains upon Mountains to raise Bars against unaided Merit. [Page 74] I durst not, under this Conviction, dream his Virtue rash enough to have pre­sum'd a Glory, so unlikely, and remote from his suppos'd Pretensions (wanting Power, Authority, and Reputation) till the GOD, who had inspir'd him with adapted Qualities, impell'd 'em also into Action by Impression supernatural; or, to take the Story in its literal Sense, by the Apppearance of an Angel, to encourage him.

Sect. XVI. L. 1.—Be taught, reply'd th' unbody'd Guest, &c.

Gideon distrusted the Reality of so improbable a Charge, tho' seemingly deriv'd from Heaven, because the Vastness of its Depth was more than he could sound, by the short Line of human Reason. The Celestial Missionary discern'd this natural Struggle betwixt Faith and Foresight, and removes it, by a Document, in­cluded in, and made impressive by a MIRACLE.—Reach me (said the Angel) yon neglected little Store of your last Night's Provision. Gideon, in mere Respect to the Command, complies with it, in Doubt, and Wonder at its Meaning: and That Doubt and Wonder gave Occasion to the Angel to enforce the Credit of his Errand, and exact the like implicit Reverence to it, without bold Examina­tions of its human Probability. I take the Liberty to look on This, as the true Meaning of the Passage in the Text: For, certainly, it could not be consistent with the Dignity of an Ambassador from God, to order Meat and Broth, to be pour'd out upon the Rock, with that too trivial Purpose, merely to blow it up, that he might vanish in the Fire, and leave Gideon in the Smoke.—Whereas ascending in the Flame after Delivery of so solemn and authoritative an Injunction, must have answer'd fully the majestic View, with which it seems to have been done: and left the Doubter animated into a becoming Faith and Resolution.

Sect. XX. L. 7.—Oreb, a Midian Prince of warlike Fame.

Too limited a Knowlege in Things military, founded on a superficial Observa­tion of the Pride, and formulary Petulancies, of disputed Rank; and querulous Exceptions to, or Emulations of Detach'd Commands, in modern War; will pro­bably object, against This Place, that Oreb was a Person of too high a Quality, to lead a Party out to lie in Ambush for Surprize of a small City. But I recur to antient Practice, and protest against defective Testimony.—Actions of most Re­nown, were These Surprisals, and light Ambushes: Ulysses, thus, and Diomede, go out disguis'd, by Night, as but Discoverers of the Enemy's Camp.—Achilles reproaches Agamemnon with his Backwardness upon Occasions of this Nature. And we must not bring down Gideon's Days to ours, and buckle Reason to Per­versity of Will, in faulty Adulation of Men's Pride and meaner Passions. But, to make a large Step from Antiquity, which every-where is crouded with Ex­amples; Modern Times have had their Proofs, that noblest Spirits fly above these petty Loftinesses. Marshal Montluc, in his Commentaries, prides himself upon [Page 75] appearing personally, at the Head of all such Enterprizes; and ascribes his whole Good Fortune (which was certainly the longest lasting, and the happiest, nay, indeed, the most unmatch'd and wonderful, that ever was recorded) to his resolute persisting in This single Practice: the Duke of Rohan too, in his military Work, maintains (with some Degree of Anger, that it should be question'd) that no General, who is not prompt, by his own Presence, to promote the Execution of these little Services, can ever bring his Soldiers, either to That Vigilance, or That Opinion of his Valour, which are necessary to Authority. And, now of late, in our own Times, we saw good Proof of the Validity of That French General's Remark, in the Successes of the Earl of Peterborow, overrunning some of the best Provinces in Spain, against the Opposition of an Army, in Comparison with which His own might have been well mistaken for his travelling Retinue! This illustrious Kind of Victory, which Men obtain by inbred Energy of Genius, is what properly deserves the Name of Conquest. A Power of beating down one Force, by an opposing Equal one, can claim no other Title but of Overthrow.

Sect. XXI. L. 2.—Observ'd a tott'ring Cliff, that loosely hung.

Aristotle is for the Wonderful, in Poetry; by which, however, I suppose, he could not mean, that we should disregard the Probable, in Search of the Miracu­lous. But, if it must be look'd upon as reasonable, that Hector in the Twelfth Book of Homer's Iliad, could throw a Stone of Weight enough to burst the Gate of the Greek's Fortification before their Ships, and throw it with such Force, too, as to break the Bars in Pieces, and snap all the Iron Hinges (which thund'ring Stroke had the Good Fortune to please Tasso, so surprisingly, that he made bold to borrow it for the Use of his Rinaldo, against the Temple of Jerusalem)—if This, I say, can, reasonably, be believ'd, it will be no great Difficulty for the Reader to allow it likelier, that Oreb should push down a Cliff, that hung half loose already: Men, who travel on the Alpes, the Mountains of Switzerland, or cross the Pyrenees; or even among our own Scotch Alps, or Welsh ones; meet with nothing commoner, than such huge Craggs, broke off from upper Rocks, and stop'd by some protuberating Point, half over which they hang, so loosely, and so tott'ring, that a very little Impulse from behind, would serve to throw 'em downward; tho' a Team or two of Oxen would have much ado to move 'em, from a Place they lay on, horizontally.

Sect. XXII. L. 19.—Ignobly hurl their Jav'lins down in vain.

This Weapon was a very antient one, in Use among most Nations: tho' 'tis now scarce known, in Europe, except only in the Turkish Part of it. They call it, there, Jeritt, and are extremely dext'rous in its Exercise. The Moors too, all through Africa, retain the Use of it; and so do the Arabians; and some Nations of East India, where it has the Name of Zagai. The Hebrew Soldiers, [Page 76] and great Leaders, kept 'em in their Hands by way of Ornament, in Time of Peace. Saul threw one of these Javelins at Jonathan, while he sat at Table with him. It was one of These, that Joab thrust through Absalom. They were brought early out of Asia into Use among the Greeks; for we find few, in Homer, kill'd by any other Weapon. Mr. Pope translated unreflectingly, in calling it a Spear. What graceful Image can we form, of Hector brandishing two Spears? By Spear, we are to understand, a Pike. Whereas the Javelin was but a short Staff, for casting at a Distance. The Romans call'd it Pilum, and became so fond of it, that they affected to be thought Inventors of its Use: so much is certain, that they met no Enemy, who us'd this Weapon; for what else can Lucan mean, when, in describing the Pharsalian War, he tells us that Piles threatened Piles? Had other Nations been so arm'd, This might have been the Case, in any of their Wars. But since the Use was proper to the Romans, to say Javelins against Javelins serv'd as strongly to express a Civil War, as if he had said Romans against Romans.

The People of Rome could not have borrow'd it from Greece, because we find in Livy, that They us'd it before any Intercourse had yet been open'd with That Nation. And beside, the Greeks themselves had, then, disus'd the Javelin: and been train'd to the Egyptian Practice, of long Pikes, of four and twenty Foot; in Bodies, which consisted of a Thousand in the Front, and Sixteen Men in File: sometimes, reduc'd to only Eight in Depth, the Ranks thereby extending to a double Length, when they would shun the Danger of being charg'd in Rear, by Enemies, who might out-wing them. In this Order, they compos'd a firm, im­penetrable, and, on plain Ground, scarce resistible oblong Figure, call'd a Pha­lanx: where the Soldiers, arm'd defensively with Helmets, Tassets, Corslets, Brass-Boots, and Targets, closing Ranks, and propping and sustaining one another, with their Pikes presented over the preceding Shoulders, like the Quills of Porcu­pines, 'tis easy to imagine what Impression such a well-compacted Weight was capable of making; and how firmly It supported Charges from an Enemy; unless where Ditches, Hills, or other Inequalities of Ground, disturb'd, and broke their Order into little Gaps, or Intervals, at which (as in the Example of Aemilius, against Perses, at the Battle of Pydna) the Roman Legionary Maniples forc'd Entrance, and assaulting them in Flank, with their short Swords, gain'd frequent, and considerable Victories.

As to the Pilum, 'tis most probable the Romans had it, with their Trojan Found­ers, who no doubt brought into Italy, All Weapons they had been accustom'd to, before their Emigration. Vegetius and Polybius, Both, describe this Pilum, but a little differently. As far as can be gather'd out of Roman Tactics, It was a Staff, of weighty Wood, of four Foot long, exclusive of the Steel, one End of it was fasten'd into. This Steel Head was triangular, in Length two Foot, and very sharply edg'd, and pointed; so that the whole Length of the Javelin was about Six Foot: It was largest, where remotest from the Iron (though sometimes [Page 77] they are describ'd as double-headed): The poizing Place, for Grasp, was com­monly about an Inch and a Quarter in Diameter.

The Legionary Foot, All, carried this peculiar missile Weapon: and could hurl it with surprising Aim, and Force, against an Enemy. The Manner of their casting it was thus—When the first Rank observ'd the Distance within Reach, they threw their Javelins, point-blank, and sunk immediately upon one Knee, to give the second Rank uninterrupted Sight, who, then, threw also, and knelt down, to give the same Advantage to the Third. And thus, when Ten whole Ranks had thrown successively (which was dispatch'd with an unceasing Swiftness, and Agility), They started up together, with a general Shout, drew All their Swords at once, and so rush'd in upon the Enemy.

What terrible Effects have been produc'd by Javelins, we have innumerable Instances in History: but none more worthy Notice, than That Great one, at Pharsalia; where Caesar, with his usual Skill, foreseeing, that Pompey's Horse, compos'd of the most warm, and fiery Spirits of the Roman Youth of the Patrician Houses, would be endeavouring to fall in upon his Rear, on That Wing, where his own few Horsemen were exceedingly out-reach'd, by Pompey's, He plac'd, in oblique Line, extending from behind the so-expos'd and threatened Flank of Cavalry, six chosen Cohorts of his veteran Foot (which made about Three thousand Men) and order'd These, when they receiv'd the Squadrons in their coming round upon 'em, to aim All their Javelins at the Faces only of Those gay young Chargers. It succeeded, to his Wish. The Horse came furiously about: but starting unexpectedly on this Reserve of such experienc'd Wounders, were receiv'd with so successive Showers of Javelins, in their Eyes, Cheeks, Necks, and Foreheads, that unable to support the Horror of such maim'd, and miserable Faces (for the Horse had no Vant-braces to their Helmets), they All turn'd their Backs precipitately, and disordering their own Foot, lost Pompey that important Day; and gave the World to Caesar.

Sect. 25. L. 5.—Then Gideon found it prudent to retreat.

There is no Chance, and most especially in War, which so effectually, and suddenly, destroys the Interests of Men, as Want of due Discernment where to stop, in the smooth Race of Fortune. They see nothing but plain bowling Way, before 'em: and, if they ever look behind, it is not till their Rear is broken in upon. There is an Eye on every Side of Prudence, and she sees all round her. Gideon, who had so lately gain'd the Out-set of his Influence, by the Valour he had shewn in the Dispute with Oreb, was to make Advantage, of the favourable Opportunity. As he was Leader, in this hot Pursuit, and saw, that he was follow'd by his Countrymen without Regard to Consequence, He might have push'd the Enemy beyond the Hill, and made considerable Slaughter, as they pass'd the River. But how, there, should so disorderly a Body have resisted, on plain Ground, the Re-inforcements coming up, to the Assistance of the flying [Page 78] Enemy? In calm Debate, within Himself, he found the Hope of added Glory, from the Conquest, overbalanc'd, by a Certainty of losing That already His, in case of Disappointment, and Defeat in Hazard for it. He determines, therefore, to retreat, and guard the Safety of the People with him: on whose Favour he was now to build, for All the Promise of his future Fortune.

Sect. XXVII. L. 4.—Th' assembled Elders, o'er the City Gate.

The frequent Devastations brought upon the Jews, first, by the Princes of the East, then, by the Roman Emperors, and, in All Ages since, by the Resentment and Revenge of Christian Zeal, for ever warm against them, have so irrecoverably destroy'd their Records, that, excepting their Remains of Law and History, pre­serv'd in the Old Testament, there can be nothing more obscure, than the For­malities in Civil Government, observ'd by this unhappy People. Their Priests, who were the sole Repositories of their Learning, Faith, and Ceremonies, have been cut off, almost to a Man, in general and commission'd Massacres: and Op­portunities, which This produc'd, gave Room for Forgeries, and infinite Imper­tinence, and superstitious Dreamings, to their Rabbins, and their Talmudists. Nor have the Christian Writers, to say Truth, clear'd more from the Confusion, than appears to have been added to it. Josephus liv'd at the same Time with Christ's Apostles, and is one of our best Guides, in Searches of this Nature; but, besides that he is often not so full, as might be wish'd, his Countrymen had undergone so many Changes before then, that Ten Tribes of the Twelve were utterly extir­pated: and the Government, and Customs of the other Two, so different, in many of their most considerable Circumstances, from the Institutions left by Moses, that for Matters of remote Antiquity we cannot safely rest on his Authority. Thus much, however, may be gather'd, from his Testimony, and the Hebrew Model, as remaining in the Bible, that Each City had a Senate, of her Elders; that These were generally Seven, with a Levite on each Hand, for Exposition of their Law, and to record, as well as regulate, Proceedings. They sat exactly in the Form describ'd: The Place above the City Gate; to signify, that Justice was to guard, and circumscribe, their Habitations. These Senates of their Cities judg'd All Points of Right within their Districts: but were under Check of an Appeal to Capitals of Tribes: the Cause might, there, be heard again, before the Prince of That particular Tribe; who had Election also of his City Senates: Lastly, from these provincial Princes, lay Appeal, in final Termination, to the Sanhedrim: But, till the general Defection alter'd the Mosaic Order, Appeal lay from the Sanhedrim to the High-Priest; and His Decision was the last; and under Penalty of Death, to be submitted to.—All which shall be progressively, made evident, in Notes upon the Books to follow.

Sect. XXX. L. 10.—Were, sure, design'd by Heav'n, for wide Controul.

[Page 79]The Accident, that had so lately given Occasion of Applause on Gideon's Bravery, returning with a Royal Prisoner; and which had open'd to his Country­men an unexpected Promise from his Virtues; is the Point of Sight in his par­ticular Case, some one, of which, Men often are plac'd in by Fortune: but whence, if they have fit Discernment to make use of the Advantage, they find All their future Way more easy. They dazle, by their sudden Splendor; and prevent Inspection, by Excess of Lustre. Like Men, who hold Dark-lanterns up before 'em, they present a strong, but undistinguishable, Glare, behind which They Themselves discern Things clearly, through the Light, which makes Those blind, who look against them.

Such a Light enlarg'd the Influence of Gideon's Virtues. It is not from the Merit of the Truths, he has been recommending, that the Senators derive their Warmth of Admiration. A Man, to whom such Sentiments were natural, would doubtless have express'd 'em many Times before, when, yet, they had produc'd no such Effect in Favour of the Speaker. But the Case is, now, grown different. It is not to Gideon, the Son of Joash, their Fellow Citizen, and old Acquaintance, they have all this while been list'ning. It is to Gideon made illustrious, by Applause and Wonder of the People. What had been common in the MAN, was grown prodigious in the Conqueror; and Words, which were, before, thought only worth Neglect, are found, by this new Light, to merit more than Admiration.

Every Thing we have heard of, Every Thing we admire, will be found, upon Reflection, to have been the Gift of Opportunity. Had not Lucretia's Death succeeded to her Rape; or some equivalent Excitement rous'd the till-then latent Indignation of the Roman People into Transport; Brutus would still have been constrain'd to have kept on his Cloak of unexampled Dissimulation; and the History of His Times had wanted one ferocious Instance, that Disguise of Passions can consist with the most stern Inflexibility.

In the same City, the same Senate, and same People, who, while under Hope, or Fear from Pompey's Fortune, gave Consent to all Indignities his Jealousy could heap on Caesar, and who, with a malignant Laziness, suppos'd him, in his Absence, of no longer Consequence, chang'd Disposition in a Moment, and had, now, no Ear for any Thing but Caesar.—Caesar's Valour! Caesar's Goodness! Caesar's For­tune!—For they saw All This by the new Light, his unexpected March to Rome had lent 'em. The terrible Success of so astonishing a Boldness taught 'em to consider, as invincible, a Courage, that could meet such Danger with a steady Eye. And That first daring Step drew Half the Nation from his Rival's Interest.

Sect. XXXI. L. 11.—So, wand'ring wide, he reach'd the Grove of Baal.

Baal was the Sun, and Ashtaroth the Moon; at least, they were most generally so reputed. But concerning these great Eastern Idols, and the different Accounts, in Writers, of their Forms, and Modes of Worship, much more might be noted, [Page 80] than could be of Use, or Pleasure, here.—It will be All the Subject calls for, to observe, that they were generally plac'd on Hills, with gloomy Groves surround­ing them. For they were worship'd in the open Air, because it was suppos'd pre­sumptuous to confine their Gods to Temples, who were Omnipresent, and illimi­table.—Therefore, when the Hebrews (as they often did) fell off to the Idolatry of their next-bord'ring Nations, They made them Images, says Scripture, and planted Groves about 'em; and set up an Idol upon every high Hill, and under every green Tree; after the Abominations of the Kingdoms, which were round about them.

The Description of the Grove of Baal, and of the Image, was to be as full, and circumstantial, as it could be made; first, as it was a matter of Importance in the Story, there having really been, at Ophra, such a Grove, and Idol; most of the Inhabitants, and even Gideon's Father, seeming to have been its Worship­ers: and secondly, as there arose poetical Occasion, for an Ornament, from the Position, Figure, Grove, and solemn Picture of the Hill; which commonly was artificial, many still remaining, in some Parts of Palestine.

Sect. XXXII. L. 17.—Where can we better Virtue's Race begin?

It is with a prophetic Spirit, Gideon's Zeal transports him in this Place; the sacred Text discovering, that the Consequences, of his cutting down the Grove of Baal, became the Means of raising him to a Capacity of gathering into one col­lective Body That first military Strength, to which he ow'd his own succeeding Triumphs, and his Country's double Rescue, from the Arms, and Idols, of their Enemy.

Sect. XXXIII. L. 15.—Enough for Them, that 'tis by GIDEON meant.

From the Aid he here receives from the Ten Slaves, whom he had taken in the Cave, and saved their Lives, when sentenc'd by the Senate, there arises season­able Opportunity to speak a Word or two, concerning Episodes, in general. They never must deserve the Name, which Horace gives the independent Parts of some of his Cotemporary's Pieces; they are, instead of the DISJECTI membra Poetae, to be found attach'd, as well as beautiful. To heap together a wild Store of In­cidents unlook'd for, and surprising, will require but the Assistance of a lively Fancy. To chuse which is fit, which not, This is a Business for the Judgment. There was, some time since, a Sheep, with a fine Top-knot on its Head: There was a little after, an Hungarian Girl, who had a Sister growing to her Back. Both These were Objects unexpected, and surprising; but they were, however, Monsters, and offensively unnatural. They were like the Poems of Ariosto, (and I wish I could not add, some Passages in our Great Spencer's) into which a fairy Dance of incoherent light Adventures, of the most Romantic Model possible—if we except the Tales in the Arabian Night's unmatchable Extravagancies—crouded on, and wedg'd themselves without Connection, Cause, or Consequence; All, loose, and [Page 81] separate, in their Natures, and yet ramm'd together by the Impulse of the Poet's Spirit. In reading such a Poem, I imagine it like looking down upon a Sea, where long Successions of huge Surges after Surges, foaming from all Quarters, without Point of View to rest upon, move Horror, tho', at the same time, they strike with a wild Kind of Wonder, something like Delight. The Whole amuses the Attention: nothing leads it, in particular. A regular Epic Poet draws along the Mind, as Rivers do the Sight: however strong the Current, and the Course tho' vast and winding, yet the Flow itself is orderly, the Force confin'd within its Banks, and if it takes in Episodical Brooks, it is, to deepen, not divide, its Chanel.

Should therefore this Deliverance of the Slaves have purpos'd nothing further, than to set off Gideon, and display his Generosity, the Contrivance had been flat, and wanted the Characteristic of an Epic Episode. For, while it could not be dis­cern'd, that It had any Influence toward Advance of the main Action, the Reader would have thought their History too inconsiderable to atone for the Digression, they misled him into. But the Interest of these honest Men becomes intitled to our whole Attention and Concern, as soon as we observe, that, from their Grati­tude, an Action is deriv'd, that gives Foundation to the great one, purpos'd by the Poem: and reflect, that no Men, less oblig'd, could have been drawn to a Participation, in so menacing a Danger.

It is probable, in actual Truth, that These ten Servants, who, the Text says, aided Gideon, in the Night (for Fear of the Inhabitants of Ophra, and the Rest of their own Family), were Persons, whom He had engag'd to his particular Interest, by Effect of some uncommon Obligation; It being impossible they should not have foreseen the Uproar and Resentment, which attended their Presumption: and no Ordinary Temptation had prevail'd on Men of Their expos'd Condition, to pro­voke so visible a Hazard.

It is the same again, in That next Episode; where the Defeat of Oreb's Party, and His being made a Prisoner, was not introduc'd to give a Proof of Gideon's Bra­very, but, from Effect of its Exertion, to possess him of the Public Admiration. I repeat the Observation, tho' already noted, to imprint Remembrance of this not to be dispens'd with Requisite, in Episodes, that they produce, and make Each other necessary; and contribute, All, to the Completion of the Epic Action.

I purposely abridge the ceremonial Rites of Sacrifice: not only as the formal Apparatus for, and Practice in 'em All (Burnt-Offerings, Peace-Offerings, Sin-Offerings, and the Rest), may be particularly found, in the Mosaic Writings, but, as Gideon, in so unforeseen a Call to the Occasion, could not be expected to have come prepar'd for the Formalities; nor was he vested, for it, with the Right of [Page 82] Priesthood: and He knew sufficiently, by the Direction he proceeded under, that His Offering could need no Punctuality, to render it acceptable.

But over and above All This, there cannot be denied to rise offensive Images, from a too long Detail of Cutting up of Beasts, washing their Bowels, broiling the Fat, and such carnific Circumstances. I consent with all my Heart, to Lord Ros­common's Notion of this Matter.

I hope I need not apprehend this Line in Danger to be look'd upon, as guilty of more Roughness, than It very well can justify, from what was touch'd in a preceding Note, concerning the Assimilation of the Sound to the describ'd Idea. But, as the hard Rebound is owing here, to the selected Monosyllables, I ought to add, in their Defence, that, us'd with any Choice, or Care, they are a Beauty, and Advantage; and both tune our Language and enrich it. I will wish no plainer Proof, in Favour of, than Mr. Pope has brought, against them.

By the Way, creep THROUGH, had better answer'd his Intention, than creep IN. But, if it had not been for our abundant Choice of Monosyllable Words, how then could Mr. Pope have imitated, with so beautiful a Force, the very Fault he was exposing? The Truth is, It is not a long String of such short Words, that makes Verse jar upon the Ear.—Short Syllables, when they are Words, may, by judicious Intermixture of the Vowels, with the Consonants, succeed Each other with as smooth a Cadence, as can Syllables, which are but Parts of Words.—The studied Roughness, in this Verse of Mr. Pope's, arises only from a refluent Relu­ctance of its Accents to concur, in That Insertion into one Another, which is ne­cessary, to make Words harmonious. I could shew a thousand Monosyllable Lines, in Mr. Dryden's, and great Numbers, too, in Mr. Pope's own Poems, than which nothing can be capable of a more exquisite Smoothness.—It is easy to derive the same Proof, even from Blank Verse, and Milton, where it seems least reason­able to suppose too nice a Care of Softness, from Selection of his Syllables.—In Eve's Reproach of Adam, for Example, Paradise lost, the Ninth Book.

She speaks it of the Devil; and the Author, therefore, will be scarce conceiv'd to have endeavour'd this sweet Flow of Monosyllables. Verse compos'd so, never [Page 83] carries Roughness, where due Care is taken, that the Syllables are heavily, or lightly ACCENTED, in just Proportion to the Sense, they move with. But, in Mr. Pope's, the Words are purposely so chosen, that Each Syllable requires Emphatical Expansion: and, in That Case, there can be no Music, for the very Reason, that makes Difference betwixt the Tolling out one Bell, and ringing a whole Belfry.

I have omitted a short Note, which ought to have been plac'd in the Beginning, The Reader will observe, I commonly make Choice of the Appellative, He­brews.—The Word Israelite is no more fit for Poetry, than Children of Israel: To have call'd 'em Jews had been a visible Absurdity; since That was a posterior Name, on their Reduction to Two Tribes, and the exclusive Kingdom of Judah only. The other Ten Tribes, till their final Extirpation, own'd no Name but their Original one, of Israel. Their general Appellative, among the bordering Aliens, seems to have been Hebrews; which effectually includes 'em All; and was deriv'd to 'em from Heber, Sixth, in Ascent, from Abraham; and Second, from Arphaxad, Noah's Grandson.