ft * * Encyclopaedia Britannic a POEIRY, Part II. Se&. 2. continued. Of Lyric Poetry. 120 The fong. THE variety of fubjecis, which are allowed the lyric poet, makes it neceffary to confider this fpecies of poetry under the following heads, viz. the fublime ode, the lejjer ode, and Hat fong. We fhall begin with the loveft, and proceed to that which is more eminent. I. Songs are little poetical compofitions, ufually let to a tune, and frequently fung in company by way of en- teitainment and diverlion. Of thefe we have in our lan¬ guage a great number j but, confidering that number, not many which are excellent; for, as the duke of Buckingham obferves, J hough nothing feems more ealy, yet no part Of poetry requires a nicer part. The fong admits of almoft any fubjeft; but the greateft part of them turn either upon love, contentment, or the pleafures of a country life, and drinking. Be the fubjeft, however, what it will, the verfes fhould be eafy, natural, and flowing, and contain a certain harmony, lo that poetry and mulic may be agreeably united. In thefe compofitions, as in all others, obfcene and profane ex- preflions Ihould be carefully avoided, and indeed every thing that tends to take off that refpedl which is due to religion and virtue, and to encourage vice and immora¬ lity. As the bell fongs in our language are already in every hand, it would feem fuperfluous to infert ex¬ amples. For further precepts, however, as well as fe- le£l examples, in this fpecies of compolition, we may re¬ fer the reader to the elegant Effay on Song Writing, by 111 Mr Aikin. 3uiftnilgia ,^1C /'ci/7'er °de' The diftinguilhing character of character ,s 15 fweetnefs; and as the pleafure we receive from of the ieffer this fort of poem arifes principally from its foothing and ode. affefting the paflions, great regard Ihould be paid to the language as well as to the thoughts and numbers. Th’ expreffion Ihould be ealy, fancy high ; Yet that not feem to creep, nor this to'fly : No words tranfpos’d, but in fuch order all, As, though hard wrought, may leem by chance to fall. D. Buckingham’s E.(fay. The llyle, indeed, Ihould be eafy: but it may be alfo florid and figurative. It folicits delicacy, but difdains affeflation. T he thoughts Ihould be natural, chalte, and elegant; and the numbers various, fmooth, and harmo¬ nious. A few examples will fufficiently explain what we ijiean. Vox,. XVII. Part I. Longinus has preferved a fragment of Sappho, an an- of Lyrrc cient Greek poetefs, which is in great reputation amongft , Po^try' the critics, and has been fo happily tranflated by Mr Philips as to give the Englilh reader a juft idea of the The Sap- fpirit, eafe, and elegance of that admired author j and phic ode. Ihow how exa&ly Ihe copied nature. To enter into the beauties of this ode, we muft fuppofe a lover fitting by his miftrefs, aud thus exprelfing his pafiion : Bleft as th’ immortal gods is he, The youth who fondly fits by thee, And fees and hears thee all the while Softly fpeak, and fweetly fmile. ’Twas this depriv’d my foul of reft, And rais’d fuch tumults in my breaft j For while I gaz’d, in tranfport toft, My breath was gone, my voice was loft. My bofora glow’d, the fubtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame : O’er my dim eyes a darknefs hung; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill’d My blood with gentle horrors thrill’d $ My feeble pulfe forgot to play j I fainted, funk, and dy’d away. After this inftance of the Sapphic ode, it may not Th/aL- be improper to fpeak of that fort of ode which is called c reontic Anacreontic; being written in the manner and tafte ofode* Anacreon, a Greek poet, famous for the delicacy of his wit, and the exquifite, yet eafy and natural, turn of his poefy. We have feveral of his odes ftill extant, and many modern ones in imitation of him, which are moft- ly compofed in verfes of feven fyllables, or three feet and a half. We ftiall give the young ftudent one or two examples of his manner from Mr Fawkes’s excellent tranilation. The following ode on the power of gold, which had been often attempted but with little fuccefs, this gentle¬ man has tranflated very happily. Love’s a pain that, works our wo Not to love is painful too : But, alas ! the greateft pain Waits the love that meets difdain. What avails ingenuous worth, Sprightly wit, or noble birth ? All thefe virtues ulelefs prove j Gold alone engages love. A p May he be completely curft, Who the fleeplng mifchief firil Wak’d to life, and, vile before, Stamp’d with worth the fordid ore. Gold creates in brethren flrife j Gold deftroys the parent’s life j Gold produces civil jars, Murders, maflacres, and wrars 5 But the worft effeft of gold, Love, alas ! is bought and fold. O E His ode on the vanity of riches is of a piece with the above, and conveys a good lefibn to thofe who are over anxious for we alth. If the treafur’d gold could give Man a longer term to live, I’d employ my utmoft care Still to keep, and ftill to fpare; And, when death approach’d, would fay, * Take thy fee, and walk away.’ But fince riches cannot fave. Mortals from the gloomy grave, Why ftiould I myfelf deceive, Vainly ftgh, and vainly grieve ? Death will furely be my lot, Whether I am rich or not. Give me freely while I live Generous wines, in plenty give Soothing joys my life to cheer, Beauty kind, and friends fincere j Happy ! could 1 ever find Friends fincere, and beauty kind. But two of the moft admired, and perhaps the moft imitated, of Anacreon’s odes, are that of Mars wounded by one of the darts of Love, and Cupid ftung by a Bee } both which are wrought up with fancy and deli¬ cacy, and are tranflated with elegance and fpirit.—Take that of Cupid ftung by a bee. Once as Cupid, tir’d with play, On a bed of rofes lay, A rude bee, that flept unfeen, The fweet breathing buds between, Stung his finger, cruel chance ! With its little pointed lance. Straight he fills the air with cries, Weeps, and fobs, and runs, and flies } ’Till the god to Venus came, Lovely, laughter-loving dame : Then he thus began to plain ; “ Oh ! undone -I die with pain “ Dear mamma, a ferpent fmall, “ Which a bee the ploughmen call, “ Imp’d with wings, and arm’d with dart, “ Oh !—has ftung me to the heart.” Venus thus reply’d, and fmil’d : ‘ Dry thofe tears for ftrame ! my child j ‘ If a bee can wound fo deep, * Caufing Cupid thus to wTeep, TRY. ■ Part II. ‘ Think, O think ! what cruel pains Of Lyric ‘ He that’s ftung by thee fuftains.’ , 1 i “ly‘ , Among the moft fuccefsful of this poet’s Englifh imi- 114 tators may be reckoned Dr Johnfon and Mr Prior. 'I lie Imiiation following ode on Evening by the former of thefe writers 1 e* has, if we miftake not, the very fpirit and air of Anacreon. Evening nowT from purple wings Sheds the grateful gifts ftie brings j Brilliant drops bedeck the mead j Cooling breezes ftiake the reed ; Shake the reed and curl the ftream Silver’d o’er with Cynthia’s beam \ 4 Near the chequer’d lonely grove Hears, and keeps thy fecrets, Love. Stella, thither let us ftray ! Lightly o’er the dewy way. Phoebus drives his burning car Hence, my lovely Stella, far: In his Head the queen of night Round us pours a lambent light ; Light that feems but juft to ftiow Breafts that beat, and cheeks that glow : Let us now, in whifper’d joy, Evening’s filent hours employ ; Silence beft, and confcious {hades, Pleafe the hearts that love invades : Other pleafures give them pain j Lovers all but love difdain. But of all the imitations of the playful bard of Greece that wre have ever met with, the moft perfetft is the fol¬ lowing Anacreontic by the regent Duke of Orleans. Je fuis ne pour les pbifirs } Bien fou qui s’en pafte : Je ne veux pas les choifir 5 Souvent le choix m’embarraffe : Aime t’on ? J’aime foudain ; Bois t’on ? J’ai la verre a la main j Je tiens par tout ma place. II. Dormir eft un temps perdu ; Faut il qu’on s’y livre ? Sommeil, prends ce qui t’eft du ; Mais attends que je fois yvre : Saifis moi dans cet inftant; Fais moi dormir promptement 5 Je fuis prefle de vivre. III. Mais ft quelque objet charmant, Dans un fonge aimable, Vient d’un plaifir feduifant M’offrir 1’image agreable ; Sommeil, aliens doucement j L’erreur eft en ce moment Un bonheur veritable. Tranflation of the Regent's Anacreontic (e). Frolic and free, for pleafure born, The felf-denying fool I fcorn : (e) We give this tranflation, both becaufe of its excellence and becaufe it is faid to have been the production of no lefs a man than the late Lord Chatham. Part II. Of Lyric Poetry. P Iz5 Sappho. The proffer’d joy I ne’er refufe ; ’Tis oft-times troublelome to chu.e. Lov’ft thou, my friend ? I love at fight : Dr ink’ft thou ? this bumper does thee right. At random with the ftream I flow, And play my part where’er I go. Great God of Sleep, fmce we muft be Oblig’d to give feme hours to thee, Invade me not till the full bowl Glows in my cheek, and warms my foul. Be that the only time to fnore, When I can love and drink no more : Short, very ftiort, then be thy reign j For I’m in hafte to live again. But O ! if melting in.my arms, In fome foft dream, with all her charms, The nymph belov’d ftmuld then furprite, And grant what waking (he denies 5 Then prithee, gentle Slumber, (lay \ Slowly, ah flowly, bring the day : Let no rude noife my blifs deftroy •, Such fweet delufion’s real joy. We have mentioned Prior as an imitator of Anacreon-, but the reader has by this time had a fufficient fpecimen of Anacreontics. The following Anfwr to Che jealous which was written when Prior was lick, has much ot the elegant tendernefs of Sappho* Yes, faireft proof of beauty’s pow’r. Dear idol of my panting heart, Nature points this my fatal hour : And I have liv’d : and we muft part. While now I take my laft adieu, Heave thou no ligh, nor died a tear j Left yet my half-clos’d eye may view On earth an objeft worth its care. From jealoufy’s tormenting ftnfe For ever be thy bofom freed j That nothing may diftuxb thy life, Content I haften to the dead. Yet when fome better-fated youth Shall with his am’rous parly move thee, Reflecl one moment on his truth Who, dying, thus perfifts to love thee. There is much of the foftnefs of Sappho, and the fweetnefs of Anacreon and Prior, ^ the foBowuig ode which is aferibed to the unfortunate Dr ^ was written in compliment to a lady, who being lick, had fent the author a mofs rofe-bud, mftead of ma ing his family a vifit. This piece is particularly to be efteemed for the juft and ftriking moral with which it is pointed. The flighted of favours beftow’d by the fair, With rapture we take, and with triumph we wear J But a mofs-woven rofe-bud, Eliza, from thee, A well-nleafing gift to a monarch would be. Illh ! Aat illnffs, too cruel, forbidding fliould ftand, And refufe me the gift from thy own lovely hand . With iov I receive it, with pleafure will view, Reminded of thee, by its odour and hue « Sweet rofe, let me tell thee, tho’ charmmg thy bloom, Tho’ thy fragrance excels Seba’s ncheft per.ume , , 126 O E T R Y. Thy breath to Eliza’s no fragrance hath in’t, _ And but dull is thy bloom to her cheek s bluflung tint. Yet, alas ! my fair flow’r, that bloom will decay, And all thy lov’d beauties foon wither away j Tho’ pluck’d by her hand, to whofe touch, we muft own, Harfti and rough is the cygnet’s moft delicate down . Thou too, fnowy hand j nay, I mean not to preach , But the rofe, lovely moralift, fuffer to teach. _ “ Extol not, fair maiden, thy beauties o er mine ; They too are (hort-liv’d, and they too muft decline , And fmall, in conclufion, the diff’rence appears, ( In the bloom of few days, or the bloom of few years . But remember a virtue the rofe hath to boaft, Its fragrance remains when its beauties are iolt. We come now to thofe odes of the more fiend and figurative kind, of which we have many lu ^ur l^^ag® figurative, that deferve particular commendation. Mr Wartons Ode to Fancy has been juftly admired by the beft judges, for though it has a dlftant refemblance of Milton s 1’Allegro and II Penferofo, yet the work is ongina } the thoughts are moftly new and various, and the lan¬ guage and numbers elegant, expreffive, and harmonious. O parent of each lovely mufe, Thy fpirit o’er my foul diffufe ! O’er all my artlefs fongs prefide, My footfteps to thy temple guide ! To offer at thy turf-built (brine In golden cups no coftly wine, No murder’d fatling of the flock, But flowr’s and honey from the rock. O nymph, with loofely flowing hair, With bufkin’d leg, and bofom bare •, Thy waift with myrtle-girdle bound, Thy brows with Indian feathers crown’d ; Waving in thy fnowy hand An all-commanding magic wand, Of pow’r to bid frefh gardens blow ’Mid cheerlefs Lapland’s barren fnow : Whofe rapid wings thy flight convey, Through air, and over earth and fea j While the vaft various landfcape lies Confpicuous to thy piercing eyes. O lover of the defert, hail ! Say, in what deep and pathlefs ^vale, Or on what hoary mountain’s fide, ’Midft falls of water, you refide •, ’Midft broken rocks, a rugged feene, With green and graffy dales between } ’Midft: forefts dark of aged oak, Ne’er echoing with the woodman’s ftroke Where never human art appear’d, Nor ev’n one draw-roof’d cott was rear’d *, Where Nature feems to fit alone, Majeftic on a craggy throne. Tell me the path, fweet wand’rer . tell, To thy unknown fequefter’d cell, Where woodbines clufter round the door, Where fhells and mofs o’erlay the floor, And on whofe top an hawthorn blows, Amid whofe thickly-woven boughs Some nightingale ftill builds her neft, Each ev’ning warbling thee to reft. Then lay me by the haunted ftream, Wrapt in fome wild poetic dream j .A. 2 In 4 Of Lyric Poetry. POE In converfe while methinks I rove With Spenfer through a fairy grove ; Till fuddenly aw^ak’d, I hear Strange whifper’d mufic in my ear ; And my glad foul in blifs is drown’d By the fweetly foothing found ! Me, goddefs, by the right-hand lead, Sometimes through the yellow mead j .VY here Joy and white-rob’d Peace refort, And Venus keeps her feftive court; vt heie Mirth and It outh each ev’ning meet And lightly trip with nimble feet, Nodding their lily-crowned heads, Where Laughter rofe-lip’d Hebe leads: YY here Echo walks fteep hills among Lild’ning to the fhepherd’s fong. Yet not thefe flow’ry fields of joy Can long my penfive mind employ; Hafte, Fancy, from the fcenes of Folly, 1 o meet the matron Melancholy ! Goddefs of the tearful eye, 1 hat loves to fold her arms and figH. Let us with filent footfteps go To charnels, and the houfe of w'o ; To Gothic churches, vaults, and tombs, Where each fad night fome virgin comes, V ith throbbing breafl and faded cheek, Her promis’d bridegroom’s urn to feek : Or to fome abbey’s mould’ring tow’rs, Where, to avoid cold wint’ry fhow’rs,’ f he naked beggar fhivering lies, While whittling tempefts round her rife, And trembles left the tott’ring wall Should on her fleeping infants fall. Now let us louder ftrike the lyre, For my heart glows with martial fire : J reel, I feel, with fudden heat, My big tumultuous bofom beat; J he trumpet’s clangors pierce my ear, A. thoufand widows fhrieks I hear : Give me another horfc, I cry ; L°j the bafe Gallic fquadrons fly ! YY hence is this rage ?—what fpirit, fay, J o battle hurries me away ? 1 is Fancy, in her fiery car, Tranfports me to the thickeft w^ar ; i'here whirls me o’er the hills of flain, vVhere tumult and deftruaion reign j Where mad with pain, the wounded fteed, Iramples the dying and the dead : Where giant Terror ftalks around, ith fullen joy furveys the ground, And, pointing to th’ enfanguin’d field, Shakes his dreadful gorgon fhield ! O guide me from this horrid fcene lo high arch’d walks and alleys green, Y v bch lovely Laura feeks, to fhun J he fervors of the mid-day fun. Jhe pangs of abfence, O remove, p0r m r11, Place nie near my love i L an ft fold m vifionary blifs, And kt me think I fteal a kifs: YY hire her ruby lips difpenfe I-ufcious nectar’s quintelfence ! T li Y. M hen young ey’d Spring profufely throws Vxom lier green lap the pink and rofe : When the foft turtle of the dale To Summer tells her tender tale ; When Autumn cooling caverns feeks, And flams with wine his jolly cheeks; When YY inter, like poor pilgrim old, Shakes his filver beard with cold • At ev’ry feafon let my ear Thy folemn whifpers, Fancy, hear. O warm enthufiaftic maid ! Without thy powerful, vital aid, 1 hat breathes an energy divine That gives a foul to ev’ry line, ’ Ne’er may I ftrive with lips profane, To utter an unhallow’d ftrain j Nor dare to touch the facred ftring, Save when with fmiles thou bid’tt me fing. O hear our pray’r, O hither come From thy lamented Shakelpeare’s tomb, On which thou lov’ft to fit at eve, Mufing o’er thy darling’s grave. ’ O queen of numbers, once again Animate fome chofen fwain, YY no,' fill'd with unexhaufted fire, Muy ooldly finite the founding lyre j Who with fome new, unequall’d fong, May rife above the rhyming throng j O’er all our lift’ning paflions reign, O’erwhelm our fouls with joy and pain j YVith terror fhake, with pity move, Rouze with revenge, or melt with love. O deign t’attend his evening walk, With him in groves and grottoes talk; leach him to fcorn, with frigid art, Feebly to touch th’ enraptur’d heart; Like lightning, let his mighty verfe ’ 1 he bofom’s inmoft foldings pierce • With native beauties win applaufe, Beyond cold critics ftudied law’s : O let each mufe’s fame increafe ! O bid Britannia rival Greece ! omarr on the ( of December (being the birth-day of a beautiful yon lady) is much to be admired for the variety and harn ny ot the numbers, as well as for the beauty of t tnoughts and the elegance and delicacy of the comr ment. It has great fire, and yet great fweetnefs, and the happy iflue of genius and judgment united. Hail eldeft of the monthly train, Sire of the winter drear, December ! m wlioie iron reign Expires the chequer’d year. Hufh all the bluft’ring blafts that blow, And proudly plum’d in filver fnow, Smile gladly on this bleft of days; The livery’d clouds fhall on thee wait, And Phoebus fhine in all his ftate * YYIth more than fummer rays. Though jocund June may juftly boaft Long days and happy hours ; Though Auguft be Pomona’s hoft, And May be crown’d with flovv’rs: .Part IT. Of Lyric Poetry. Teli p o Part II. E Of L>ric Tell June his fire and crimfon dies, Poetry. Harriot’s blulh, and Harriot’s eyes, v Eclips’d and vanquifir’d, fade away j Tell Auguft, thoucanft let him fee A richer, riper fruit than he, A fweeter flow’r than May. The enfuing ode, written by Mr Collins on the death and elegiac of MrThomfon, is of the paftoral and elegiac kind, and °^e* both piclurefque and pathetic. To perceive all the beau¬ ties of this little piece, which are indeed many, we muft fuppofe them to have been delivered on the river Thames near Richmond. ti7 A paftoral * The harp of iEolus. f Rich- mond- church. 128 The hymn. In yonder grave a Druid lies, Where flowly winds the Healing wave ; The year’s belt fweets lhall duteous rife To deck its poet’s filvan grave ! In yon deep bed of whifp’ring reeds His airy harp * lhall now be laid, That he, whofe heart in forrow bleeds, May love through life the foothing lhade. Then maids and youths lhall linger here, And, while its founds at diltance fwell, Shall fadly feem in pity’s ear To hear the woodland pilgrim’s knell. Remembrance oft lhall haunt the Ihore, When Thames in fummer wreaths is drelt, And oft fufpend the dalhing oar, To bid his gentle fpirit reft ! And oft as eafe and health retire To breezy lawn, or forelt deep, The friend fhall view yon whitening fpire f. And ’mid the varied landfcape -weep. But thou, who own’ll that earthy bed, Ah ! what will ev’ry dirge avail ? Or tears, which love and pity Hied, That mourn beneath the gliding fail ? Yet lives there one, whofe heedlefs eye, Shall fcorn thy pale fhrine glimm’ring near ? With him, fweet bard, may fancy die, And joy defert the blooming year. , But thou, lorn ftream, whofe fullen tide No fedge-crown’d lifters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill’s fide, Whofe cold turf hides the buried friend. And fee, the fairy valleys fade, Dim night has veil’d the folemn view ! Yet once again, dear parted lhade, Meek nature’s child, again adieu ! The genial meads, aflign’d to blefs Thy life, ihall mourn thy early doom ; Their hinds, and fhepherd girls, lhall drefs, With fimple hands, thy rural tomb. Long, long, thy ftone and pointed clay Shall melt the muling Briton’s eyes j O vales and wild woods, fhall he fay, In yonder grave your Druid lies ! Under this fpecies of the ode, notice ought to be ta. ken of thofe written on divine fubje&s, and which are ufually called hymns. Of thefe we have many in our language, but none perhaps that are fo much admired as Mr Addilon’s. The beauties of the following hymn are too well known, and too obvious, to need any com¬ mendation •, we fhall only obferve, therefore, that in this hymn (intended to difplay the power of the Almighty) TRY. 5 he feems to have had a pfalm of David in his view, Of Lyric which fays, that “ the heavens declare the glory of God, ' f and the firmament Iheweth his handywork.” The fpacious firmament on high, With all the blue etherial Iky, And fpangled heav’ns, a fhining frame, Their great original proclaim : Th’ unwearied fun, from day to day, Does his Creator’s pow’r difplay, And publilhes to ev’ry land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the ev’ning lhades prevail, The moon takes up the wond’rous tale, And nightly to the lift’ning earth Repeats the ftory of her birth : While all the ftars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And fpread the truth from pole to pole. What tho’ in folemn lilence all Move round the dark terreftrial ball ? What tho’ nor real voice or found Amid their radiant orb be found ? In reafon’s ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, For ever finging, as they fhine, “ The hand that made us is divine.” The following paftoral hymn is a verfion of the 23d Pfalm by Mr Addifon $ the peculiar beauties of which have occafioned many tranllations *, but we have feen none that is fo poetical and perfedl as this. And in juftice to Dr Boyce, we muft obferve, that the mufic he has adapted to it is fo fweet and expreflive, that we know not which is to be moft admired, the poet or the mufician. The Lord my pafture fhall prepare, And feed me with a fhepherd’s care } His prefence fhall my wants fupply, And guard me with a watchful eye j My noon-day walks he fhall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. When in the fultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirfty mountain pant, To fertile vales and dewy meads My weary wand’ring fteps he leads j Where peaceful rivers foft and flow Amid the verdant landfcape flow. Tho’ in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overfpread, My fteadfaft heart fhall fear no ill : For thou, O Lord, art with me ftill} Thy friendly crook fhall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful fhade. Tho’ in a bare and rugged-way, Through devious lonely wilds I ftray, Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile : The barren wildernefs fhall fmile, With hidden greens and herbage crown’d; And ftreams fhall murmur all around. III. We are now to fpeak of thofe odes which are TheVub- of the fublime and noble kind, and diftinguifhed from lime ode. others by their elevation of thought and diftion, as well by the variety or irregularity of their numbers as the frequent 6 POE Of Lyric frequent tranfitions and bold excurflons with which they . P0^try- are enriched. '' To give the young fiudent an idea of the fudden and frequent tranfitions, digrethons, and excurfions, which are admitted into the odes of the ancients, wre cannot do better than refer him to the celebrated fong or ode of Moles ; which is the oldeft that wre know of, and w as penned by that divine author immediately after the chil¬ dren of Ifrael croffed the Red lea. At the end of this fong, we are told, that “ Miriam the prophetefs, the filler of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out after her writh tim¬ brels and with dances. And Miriam anfwered them, Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed glori- oully j the horfe and his rider hath he thrown into the fea.” From this lad palfage it is plain, that the ancients very early called in mulic to the aid of poetry } and that their odes were ufually lung, and accompanied with their lutes, harps, lyres, timbrels, and other indruments : nay, fo effential, and in fuch. reputation, wras mufic held by the ancients, that we often find in their lyric poets, addreffes or invocations to the harp, the lute, or the lyre j and it was probably owing to. the frequent ufe made of the lad-mentioned indrument with the ode, that this fpecies of writing obtained the name of Lyric poetry. This ode, or hymn, which fome believe was compofed by Mofes in Hebrew verfe, is incomparably better than any thing the heathen, poets have produced of the kind, and is by all goodjudges confidered as a mailer-piece of ancient eloquence. The thoughts are noble and fub- lime : the dyle is magnificent and expredive : the figures are bold and animated : the tranfitions and excurfions are fudden and frequent : but they are fhort, and the poet, having digreffed for a moment, returns immediate¬ ly to the great obje£l that excited his wronder, and ele¬ vated his foul with joy and gratitude The images fill the mind with their greatnefs, and drike the imagination in a manner not to be expreffed. If there be any thing that in fublimity approaches to it, wt mud look for it in the ead, where perhaps we diall find nothing fuperior to the following Hindoo hymn to Narrenjna, or “ the fpirit of God,” taken, as Sir William Jones informs us, from the writings of the ancient Bramins. Spirit of fpirits, who, through every part Of fpace expanded, and of endlefs time, Beyond the reach of lab’ring thought fublime, Bad’d uproar into beauteous order dart j Before heav’n was, thou art. Ere fpheres beneath us roll’d, or fpheres above, Ere earth in firmamental Eether hung, Thou fat’d alone, till, through thy mydic love, Things unexiding to exidence fprung, And grateful defcant fung. Omnifcient Spirit, wdrofe all-ruling pow’r Bids from each fenfe bright emanations beam; Glows in the rainbow, fparkles in the dream, T R Y. Part II. Smiles in the bud, and glidens in the flower That crowms each vernal bow’r } Sighs in the gale, and warbles in the throat Of every bird that hails the bloomy fpring, Or tells his love in many a liquid note, Wliild envious artids touch the rival dring, Till rocks and foreds ring ; Breathes in rich fragrance from the fandal grove, Or where the precious mutk-deer playful rove j In dulcet juice, from clud’ring fruit didils, And burns falubrious in the taueful clove ; Safe banks and verd’rous hills Thy prefent influence fills j In air, in floods, in caverns, w7oods, and plains, Thy will infpiriis all, thy fovereign Maya reigns. Blue crydai vault, and elemental fires, That in th’ ethereal fluid blaze and breathe; Thou, tofiing main, whofe fnaky branches wreathe This penfiie orb with intertwdding gyres} Mountains, whofe lofty fpires, Prefumptuous, rear their fummits to the /kies, And blend their em’rald hue with fapphire light j Smooth meads and lawns, that glow-with vary in g dy es Of dew-befpangled leaves and bioiloms bright, Hence ! vanidr from my fight Delufive piftures ! unfubdantial (hows ! My foul abforb’d one only Being knows, Of all perceptions one abundant fource, Whence ev’ry objeef, ev’ry moment flowrs : Suns hence derive their force, Lienee planets learn their courfe *, But funs and fading worlds I viewT no more j God only I perceive 5 God only I adore (f). We come now to the Pindaric ode, w hich (if we ex- T he Hn- cept the hymns in the Old Tedament, the pfalms of dark ode. King David, and fuch hymns of the Hindoos as that jud quoted) is the mod exalted part of lyric poetry } and was fo called from Pindar, an ancient Greek poet, who is celebrated for the boldnefs of his flights, the impetu- ofity of his dy le, and the feeming wildnefs and irregu¬ larity that runs through his compofitions, and which are faid to be the effeft of the greated art. See Pin¬ dar. The odes of Pindar wTere held in fuch high edima- tion by the ancients, that it wras fabled, in honour of their fweetnefs, that the bees, w’hile he w'as in the cradle, brought honey to his lips : nor did the vifitors at the Olympic and other games think the crowm a fiifficient reward for their merit, unlefs their atchievements were celebrated in Pindar’s fongs ; mod wifely prfefaging, that the fird would decay, but the other would endure for ever. This poet did not always write his odes in the fame meafure, or with the fame intention with regard to their being fung. For the ode inferibed to Diagoras (the concluding danza of wdfich we inferted at the beginning of this feftion) is in heroic meafure, and all the danzas are equal : there are others alfo, as Mr Wed obferves, made Of Lyric Poetry. (f) For the philofophy of this ode, which reprefents the Deity as the foul of the world, or rather as the only Being (the ra ev of the Greeks), fee Metaphysics, N0 269. and Philosophy, N° 6. 2 Part II. POE Of Lyric made up of Jfrophes and antijlrophes, without any epode ; Poetry. ancl fome compofed of Jlrophes only, of different lengths r.Ti 'v~ ' aacl meafures : but the greateft part oc nis odes are ui- vided \vtX.o Jlvophc^ ontijlrophs^ and epode, in order, as Mr Congreve conjectures, to their being fung, and ad- dreffed by the performers to different parts of the au¬ dience. “ They were fung (fays he) by a chorus, and adapted to the lyre, and fometimes to the lyre and pipe. They comiited ofteneft of three ffanzas. The firft was called the Jirophe, from the verfiqn or circular motion of the fingers in that ftanza from the right hand to^ the left. The fecond ftanza was called the antiftrophe, from the contraverfion of the chorus} the fingers in performing that, turning from the left hand to the right, contrary al¬ ways to their motion in the.Jirophe. The third ftanza was called the epode (it may be as being the after-fong), which they fung in the middle, neither turning to one hand *Vk1 Prefnor the But Dr Wea’s * friend is. of opinion, to Well's that the performers alfo danced one way while they were Pindar. finging the Jlrophe, and danced back as they mng Jie an- tijlrophe, till they came to the fame place again, and then ftanding ftill they fung the epode. He has tranflated a naf- fage from the Scholia on Hrph ejlion, in prbof of his opi¬ nion j and obferves, that the dancing Jirophe an- tiflrophe in the fame (pace of ground, and we may fuppofe the fame fpace of time alfo, fhows why thofe two parts confifted of the fame length and meafure. As the various meafures of Pindar’s odes have been the means of fo far milleading fome of our modern poets, as to induce them to call compofitions Pindaric odes, that were not written in the method of Pindar, it is ne- ceffary to be a little more particular on this head, and to give an example from that poet, the more effeaually to explain his manner j which we fhall take from the tranflation of Dr Weft. The eleventh Nemean Ode. This ode is infcribed to Ariftagoras, upon occafion of his entering on his office of prefident or governor of the ifland of Tenedos: fo that, although it is placed among the Nemean odes, it has no fort of relation to thofe games, and is indeed properly an inauguration ode, cornpofed to be fung by a chorus at the facrifices and the feafts made by Ariftagoras and his colleagues, in the town-hall, at the time of their being invefted with the magiftracy, as is evident from many expreflions in the firft Jirophe and antijlrophe. Argument. Pindar opens this ode with an invocation to Vefta (the goddefs who prefided over the courts of juftice, and whofe ftatue and altar were for that reafon placed in the town-halls, *H-fldll in poetry and painting, which a great critic * has Jon. pronounced to be “ undoubtedly the nobleft ode that our language has ever produced.” He owns, that as a whole it may perhaps be i'nferiorTo Alexander's Feajl, but he affirms that the firft ftanza of it is fuperior to any Angle part of the other. This famous ftanza, he fays, flows with a torrent of enthufiafm : Fervet immenfufque ruit. How far this criticifmis jpft, the public muft determine. Thou youngeft virgin-daughter of the Ikies, Made in the laft promotion of the bkfs’d j Whofe palms, new-pluck’d from Tkradife, In fpreading branches more fublimely rile, Rich with immortal green above the reft *, Whether, adopted to fome neighb’ring ftar, Thou roli’ft above us, in thy wand’ring race, Or in proceffion fix’d and regular, Mov’d with the heav’n’s majeftic pace ; Or call’d to more fuperior blifs, Thou tread’ft with feraphims the vaft abyfs: Whatever happy region is thy place, Ceafe thy celeftial fong a little [pace } Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine, Since heaven’s eternal year is thine. Hear then a mortal mufe thy praife rehearfe In no ignoble verfe *, But fuch as thy own voice did praftife here, When thy firft fruits of poefy were giv’n To make thyfelf a welcome inmate there , While yet a young probationer, And candidate of heav’n. IT. If by traduftion came thy mind, Our wonder is the leis to find A foul fo charming from a ftock fo good •, Thy father was transfus’d into thy blood, So wert thou born into a tuneful ftrain, An early, rich, and inexhaufted vein. But if thy pre-exi fling foul Was form’d at firft with myriads more. It did through all the mighty poets roll, Who Greek or Latin laurels wore, And was that Sappho laft which once it was before. If fo, then ceafe thy flight, O heaven-born mind ! Thou haft no drofs to purge from thy rich ore, Nor can thy foul a fairer manfion find, Than was the beauteous frame flie left behind . Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celeftial kind Part II. Of Lyric Poetry. > : t and. J III. s May we prefume to fay, that, at thy birth, New joy was fprung in heav’n, as wTeil as here on earth For lure the milder planets did combine On thy aufpicious horofeope to ffiine, And e’en the moft malicious were in trine. Thy brother angels at thy birth Strung each his lyre, and tun’d it high, That all the people of the Iky Might know a poetefs was born on earth. And then, if ever, mortal ears Had heard the mufic of the fpheres. Amd if no cluft’ring fwarm of bees On thy fweet mouth diftill’d their golden dew, ’IVas that fuch vulgar miracles Heav’n had not leifure to renew : For all thy blefs’d fraternity of love Solemniz’d there thy birth, and kept thy holy day above. IV. O gracious God ! howT far have we Profan’d thy heav’nly gift of poefy ? Made proftitute and profligate the Mufe, Debas’d to each obfeene and impious ufe, Whofe harmony was firft ordain’d above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love ? O wuetched me ! why w^ere we hurra’d down This lubrique and adult’rate age, (Nay Part 11. P O Of Lyric (Nay added fat pollutions of pur own) Poetry. T’incfeafe the itreaming ordures of the flage ! ' What can we fay t’excufe our fecond fall ? Let this thy veftal, Heav’n, atone for all: Her Arethufian ftream remains unfoil’d, Unmix’d with foreign filth, and undefil’d •, Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. V. £ i Art flie had none, yet wanted none : For nature did that want fupply : So rich in treafures of her own, She might our boafted flores defy : Such noble vigour did her verfe adorn, 'That it feem’d borrow’d where ’twas only born. Her morals, too, were in her bofom bred, 1 By great examples daily fed, ?• What in the befl of books, her father’s life flie read. J And to be read herfelf, fhe need not fear ; 1 Each tefl, and every light, her Mufe will bear, > Tho’ Epiftetus with his lamp were there. J E’en love (for love fometimes her Mufe exprefs’d) Was but a lambent flame which play’d about her breaft, Light as the vapours of a morning dream, So cold herfelf, while fhe fuch warmth exprefs’d, ’Twas Cupid bathing in Diana’s ftream. VI. Born to the fpacious empire of the Nine, One would have thought fire fhould have been content To manage well that mighty government j But what can young ambitious fouls confine ? To the next realm fhe flretch’d her fway, 1 For Painture near adjoining lay, > A plenteous province and alluring prey. J A Chamber of Dependencies was fram’d. (As conquerors wall never want pretence, When arm’d, to juftify th’offence) And the whole fief, in right of poetry, fire claim’d. The country open lay without defence : For poets frequent inroads there had made, And perfectly could reprefent The fhape, the face, with ev’ry lineament, And all the large domains which the dumb fjler fway’d. All bow’d beneath her government, Receiv’d in triumph wdrerefoe’er fire went. Tier pencil drew whate’er her foul defign’d, And oft the happy draught furpafs’d the image-in her mind. The fylvan fcenes of herds and flocks, And fruitful plains and barren rocks, Of (hallow brooks that flow’d fo clear, The bottom did the top appear ; Of deeper too, and ampler floods, Which, as in mirrors, fhow’d the woods : Of lofty trees, with facred fhades, And perfpeftives of pleafanf glades, Where nymphs of brightefl form appear, 1 And fhaggy fatyrs {landing near, > Which them at once admire and fear. J The ruins too of fome majeflic piece, Boafting the porver of ancient Rome or Greece, Whofe flatues, freezes, columns, broken lie, And, though defac’d, the wonder of the eye ; What nature, art, bold fidlion, e’er durft frame, Her forming hand gave feature to the name. So flrange a concourfe ne’er was feen before, But when the peopl’d ark the whole creation bore. T R Y. yir. The fcene then chang’d, with bold ere&ed look Our martial king the fight with rev’rence ftruck-: For not content t’exprefs his outward part Her hand call’d out the image of his heart : His warlike mind, his foul devoid of fear, His high-defigning thoughts were figur’d there, As when, by magic, ghofts are made appear. Our phoenix queen was pourtray’d too fo bright, Beauty alone could beauty take fo right : Her drefs, her fhape, her matchlefs grace, Were all obferv’d, as well as heav’nly face. With fuch a peerlefs majefty flie Hands, As in that day (lie took the crown from facred hands j Before a train of heroines was feen, In beauty foremoft, as in rank, the queen. Thus nothing to her genius was defied, But like a ball of fire the further thrown, Still with a greater blaze flie ihone, And her bright foul broke out on ev’ry fide. What next fhe had defign’d, Heav’n only knows : To fuch immod’rate growth her conqueft rofe, That fate alone its progrefs could oppofe. VIII. Now all thofe charms, that blooming grace, The well proportion’d (hape, and beauteous face, Shall never more be feen by mortal eyes; In earth the much lamented virgin lies. Nor wit nor piety could fate prevent j Nor was the cruel Definy content To finifh all the murder at a blow, To fweep at once her life and beauty too \ But, like a harden’d felon, took a pride To work more mifchievoufly flow And plunder’d firfl, and then deflroy’d. O double facrilege on things divine, To rob the relick, and deface the fhrine ! But thus Orinda died : Heav’n, by the fame difeafe, did both tranflate j As equal were their fouls, fo equal was their fate. IX. Meantime her warlike brother on the feas His waving dreamers to the winds difplays, And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays. Ah generous youth! that wifli forbear, The winds too foon will waft thee here ! Slack all thy fails, and fear to come, Alas, thou know’ll not, thou art wreck’d at home ! No more (halt thou behold thy filler’s face, Thou hall already had her lafl embrace. But look aloft, and if thou kenn’il from far, Among the Pleiads a new kindled liar, If any fparkles than the reft more bright, ’Tis flie that ftiines in that propitious light. X. When in mid-air the golden trump fliall found, To raife the nations under ground \ When in the valley of J ehofhaphat. The judging God {hall clofe the book of fate \ And there the laft afjifes keep For thofe who wake and thofe who fleep : When rattling bones together fly From the four corners of the fky ; When finews o’er the fkeletons are fpread, Thofe cloth’d with flelh, and life infpires the dead \ B 2 The } Of Lyric Poetry. ! 12 Of Lyric Poetry. P o Xlie fawiCvi poets firft itiail hear the found, And foremoft from the tomb lhall bound, For they are cover’d with the Hghteft ground j And ftraight with in-born vigour, on the wing, Like mounting larks to the new morning ling. There thou, fweet faint, before the quire fhalt go. As harbinger of heav’n, the way to fhow, *1 he way which thou lo well haft learnt below\ E 1 hat this is a fine ode, and not unwmrthy of the ge¬ nius of Diyden, muft be acknowledged $ but that it is the nobleft wdiich the Englifh language has produced, or that any part of it runs with the torrent of enthufi- afm which characterizes Alexander's Fea/f, are petitions which we feel not ourfelves inclined to admit. Had the critic by whom it is fo highly praifed, infpefted it with the eye. which fyanned the odes of Gray, w7e cannot help thinking that he wrould have perceived fome parts of it to be tedioufly minute in defeription, and others not veiy perfpicuous at the firft perufal. It may per¬ haps, upon the whole, rank as high as the following ode by Collins on the Popular Superftitions of the High¬ lands of Scotland ; but to a higher place it has furely5no claim. I. Home, thou return’ll from Thames, whofe Naiads long Have feen thee ling’ring with a fond delay, Mid thofe foft friends, whofe heart fome future day, Shall melt, perhaps, to hear thy tragic fong, Go, not unmindful of that cordial youth (c.) vV hona, long endear’d, thou leav’ft by Lavant’s fide j I ogether let us wifh him lafting truth, And joy untainted with his deftin’d bride. Go ! nor regardlefs, while thefe numbers boaft My fhort-liv’d blifs, forget my focial name; Tut think, far off, how, on the fouthern coaft, I met thy friendftiip with an equal flame ! ^ whofe. Frefh to that foil thou turn’ll, 'where ^ ev’ry vale Shall prompt the poet, and his fong demand: To thee thy copious fubjeds ne’er lhall fail ; Thou need’ll but take thy pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe who own thy genial land. H. There muft thou wake perforce thy Doric quill; ’Tis fancy’s land to w'hich thou fett’ft thy feet; Where Hill, ’tis faid, the Fairy people meet, Beneath each birken fliade, on mead or hill. .1 here, each trim lafs, that Ikims the milky ftore, 1 o the fwart tribes their creamy bowl allots ; By night they fip it round the cottage-door, While airy minftrels warble jocund notes. ^ ^ Fart II. There, ev’ry herd,, by fad experience, knows, Of Lyric How, wing’d with Fate, their elf-fhot arrows fly, roctry. W hen the lick ewe her fummer food foregoes, ^ 1 ■ vr—,.f Gr, llretch d on earth, the heart-fmit heifers lie. Such airy beings awe th’ untutor’d fwain : Nor thou, tho’ learn’d, his homelier thoughts negleft t Let thy fweet Mufe the rural faith fuftain ; Thefe are the themes of Ample, fure #ffe to tend their Qocks in the warm feafon, when the (l) Waiting in wintery cave his wraywTard fits. (k) Of this beautiful ode two copies have been printed : one by Dr Carlyle, from a manufeript which he a« when he^eclares Zt “te f r Z5" “"/J14" ,f"ms l? hoi>e that a namelefs fomeMy »•» be believed, e tie declares, that he difeovered * perfeB copy of this admirable ode among fome old papers in the concealed drawers of a bureau kft him by a rdation.” The prefent age has been already too muehamufed wkh t^fr nTTfdT P°emS.ln }heA ^ottofs of o/d che-fisi to Pay ^11 credit to an affertion of this kind, evenVouwh nf TT tbe laid 111 \bure.aU- As the 0de of the anonymous editor differs, however, ver^ lS * a. of Dr Carlyle, and as what is affirmed by a gentleman may be true, though “ he choofes^ot at prefent Part II. P O Of Lyric As Boreas threw his young Aurora (l) forth, t r’oetry. In the firft year of the firft George’s reign, " "y ' And battles rag’d in welkin of the North, They mourn’d in air, fell, fell rebellion, flain ! And as of late they joy’d in Prefton’s fight, Saw at fad Falkirk all their hopes near crown’d ! They rav’d divining through their fecond-fight (m), Pale, red Culloden, where thefe hopes were drown’d! Illuftrious William (n) ! Britain’s guardian name ! One William fav’d us from a tyrant’s ftroke 5 He, for a fceptre, gain’d heroic fame, But thou, more glorious, Slavery’s chain haft broke, To reign a private man, and bow to Freedom’s yoke ! VI. Thefe, too, thou’lt fing! for well thy magic mufe Can to the topmoft heav’n of grandeur foar ! Or ftoop to wail the fwain that is no more ! Ah, homely fwains! your homeward fteps ne’er loofe j Let not dank Will (o) mifiead you to the heath : Dancing in mirky night, o’er fen and lake, He glows, to draw you downward to your death, In his bewitch’d, low, marlhy, willow brake ! What though far off, from fome dark dell efpied, His glimm’ring mazes cheer th’excurfive fight, Yet turn, ye wand’rers, turn your fteps afide, Nor truft the guidance of that faithlefs light j For watchful, lurking, ’mid th’ unruftling reed, At thofe mirk hours the wily monfter lies, And liftens oft to hear the palling fteed, And frequent round him rolls his fullen eyes, If chance his favage wrath may fome weak wretch furprife. Vn. Ah, lucklefs fwain, o’er all unbleft, indeed ! Whom late bewilder’d in the dank, dark fen, Far from his flocks, and fmoking hamlet, then ! * his way- To that fad fpot * where hums the fedgy weed. ward fate Ifiall lead. E T 11 Y. On him, enrag’d, the fiend, in angry mood, Shall never look with pity’s kind concern, But inftant, furious, raife the whelming flood O’er its drown’d banks, forbidding all return ! Or, if he meditate his wilh’d efcape, To fome dim hill that feems uprifing near, To his faint eye, the grim and grilly fihape, In all its terrors clad, fliall wild appear. Meantime the wat’ry furge fhall round him rife, Pour’d fudden forth from ev’ry fwelling fource ! What now remains but tears and hopelefs fighs ? His fear-lhook limbs have loft their youthly force, And down the waves he floats, a pale and breathlefs corfe ! VIII. For him in vain his anxious wife lhall wait, Or wander forth to meet him on his way; For him in vain, at to-fall of the day, His babes lhall linger at th’ unclofing gate 2 Ah, ne’er fhall he return ! Alone, if night, Her travell’d limbs in broken flumbers fteep ! With drooping willows dreft, his mournful fprite Shall vilit fad, perchance, her filcnt fleep : Then he, perhaps, with moift and wat’ry hand, Shall fondly feem to prefs her ftiudd’ring cheek, And with his blue-fwoln face before her Hand, And, fhiv’ring cold, thefe piteous accents fpeak : “ Purfue, dear wife, thy daily toils purfue, “ At dawn or dufk, induftrious as before j “ Nor e’er of me one * hclplefs thought renew, * haplefs. “ While I lie welt’ring on the ozier’d fliore, “ Drown’d by the kelpie’sf rvrath, nor e’er fhall aid thee | the waters IX. [more!” fiend. Unbounded is thy range ; with varied /kill* % ftyle. Thy mufe may, like thofe feath’ry tribes which fpring From their rude rocks, extend her fkirting wing Round the moift marge of each cold Hebrid ifle, To prefent to publifh his name,” we have inferted into our work the copy which pretends to be perfeft, noting at the bottom or margin of the page the different readings of Dr Carlyle’s edition. In the Doftor’s manufcript, which appeared to have been nothing more than the prima cura, or firft fketch of the poem, the fifth ftanza and half of the fixth were wanting ; and to give a continued context, he prevailed with Mr M‘Kenzie, the ingenious author of the Man of Feeling, to fill up the chafro. This he did by the following beautiful lines, which we cannot help thinking much more happy than thofe which occupy their place in the copy faid to be perfeft : £‘ Or on fome bellying rock that fhades the deep, They view the lurid figns that crofs the fky, Where in the weft the brooding tempefts lie; And hear their firft, faint, ruftling pennons fweep. Or in the arched cave, wdiere deep and dark The broad unbroken billows heave and fwell, In horrid millings wrapt, they fit to mark The lab’ring moon ; or lift the nightly yell Of that dread fpirit, whofe gigantic form The feer’s entranced eye can well furvey, Through the dim air who guides the driving ftorm, And points the wretched bark its deftin’d prey. Or him who hovers on his flagging wdng^ O’er the dire whirlpool, that in ocean’s wafte, Draivs inftant down whate’er devoted thing The falling breeze within its reach hath plac’d The diftant feaman hears, and flies with trembling hafte. Or if on land the fiend exerts his fway, Silent he broods o’er quickfand, bog, or fen, Far from the fhelt’ring roof and haunts of men, When witched darknefs fhuts the eye of day, And fhrouds each ftar that wont to cheer the night y Or if the drifted fnow perplex the wray, With treach’rous gleam he lures the fated wdght And leads him flound’ring on and quite aftray.” (l) By young Aurora, Collins undoubtedly meant the firft appearance of the northern lights, which is common¬ ly faid to have happened about the year 1715. (m) Second-fight is the term that is ufed for the divination of the Highlanders. (n) The late duke of Cumberland, who defeated the Pretender at the battle of Culloden. (o) A fiery meteor, called by various names, Rich as Will with the Wifp, Jack with the Lanthorn, &c. Xi ha¬ vers in the air over marfhy and fenny places. POE To that hoar pile (p) which hill its ruin (hows : In whole fmall vaults a pigmy-folk is found, Whofe bones the delver with his fpade upthrows, And culls them, wond’ring, from the hallow’d ground ! Or thither (Q_), where beneath the fliow’ry wreft, The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid : Once foes,, perhaps, together now they red, No flaves revere them, and no wars invade : Yet frequent now, at midnight folemn hour, The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, And forth the monarchs llalk with fov’reign pow’r In pageant robes; and, wreath’d with {heeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aerial council hold. X. But, oh ! o’er all, forget not Kilda’s race, On whofe bleak rocks, which brave the wrafling tides, Fair Nature’s daughter, Virtue, yet abides. Go ! juft, as they, their blamelefs manners trace! Then to my ear tranfmit fome gentle fong, Of thofe whofe lives are yet fincere and plain, Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along, And all their profpeft but the wint’ry main. With fparing temp’rance at the needful time, They drain the fcented fpring •, or, hunger-preft, Along th’ Atlantic rock, undreading, climb, * See Bird- And of its eggs defpoil the folan’s neft . catching, Thus, bleft in primal innocence, they live, and happy wTith that frugal fare Which tafteful toil and hourly danger give. Hard is their {hallow7 foil, and bleak and bare 5 Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there ! ^ XI. Nor need’ll thou blufh that fuch falfe themes engage Thy gentle mind, of fairer ftores pofleft •, For not alone they touch the village breaft, But fill’d in elder time th’ hiftoric page. There, Shakefpeare’s felf, with every garland crown’d. Flew to thofe fiery climes his fancy jheen (r), In muling hour } his wayward fillers found, And with their terrors drefs’d the magic fcene. From them he fung, when, ’mid his bold defign, Before the Scot, afflidled, and aghait ! The lhadow7y kings of Banquo’s fated line, Thro’ the dark cave in gleamy pageant pafs’d. Proceed ! nor quit the tales, which, limply told, Could once fo well my anfw’ring bofom pierce \ Proceed, in forceful founds, and colours bold, The native legends of thy land rehearfe •, To fuch adapt thy lyre, and fuit thy pow’rful verfe. XII. In fcenes like thefe, which, daring to depart From 1’ober truth, are Hill to nature true, And call forth frefh delight to fancy’s view, Th’ heroic mufe employ’d her Tafib’s art! T R Y. Part II. Of Lyric. Poetry. p. 237. and SufficM Pehcanus, No. 3. f fpaciou?. 1 Three ri¬ vers in Scotland. How7 have I trembl’d, when, at Tancred’s flroke, Its guftiing blood the gaping cyprefs pour’d, When each live plant with mortal accents fpoke, ^ And the wild blaft upheav’d the vanilh’d fword ! How have I fat, w hen pip’d the penfive wind, To hear his harp by Britilh Fairfax ftrung ! Prevailing poet! whofe undoubting mind, Believed the magic wonders which he fung ! Hence, at each found, imagination glows! Hence, at each picture, vivid life farts here ! (s) Hence his warm lay with loftell fweelnefs flows ! Melting it flows, pure, murncring ftrong, and clear, * mlmer. And fills th’ impaffion’d heart, and wins th’ harmonious ous. XIII. [ear! All hail, ye fcenes that o’er my foul prevail! Ye fplendidf friths and lakes, which, far away, Are by fmooth Annan J fill’d, or paft’ral Tay t, Or Don’s j; romantic fprings, at diftance, hail! The time lhall come, when I, perhaps, may tread Your lowly glens *, o’erhung with fpreading broom j * valleys. Or o’er your ftretching heaths, by fancy led, Or o'er your mountains creep, in awful gloom ! (t) Then will I drefs once more the faded bow’r, Where Jonfon (u) fat in Drummond’s c!ojfc-\ lhade } t facial- Or crop, from Tiviotdale, each lyric flow7’r, And mourn, on Yarrow’s banks, where Wilhfs laidf! t the wi- Meantime, ye powr’rs that on the plains which bore dowed The cordial youth, on Lothian’s plains (x), attend ! ma^ ' Where’er HOME dwells j, on hill, or lowly moor, § pe dwell To him I loofe ||, your kind protedlion lend, |j And, touch’d wdth love like mine, preferve my abfent friend ! Dr Johnfon, in his life of Collins, informs us, that Dr Warton and his brother, who had feen this ode in the author’s pofleflion, thought it fuperior to .his other works. The tafte of the Wartons wall hardly be que- ftioned ; but we are not fure that the following Ode to the Pafions has much lefs merit, though it be merit of a different kind, than the Ode on the Superflitiens of the Highlands : When Mufic, heav’nly maid, w7as young, While yet in early Greece Ihe fung, The Paflions oft, to hear her Iheil, Throng’d around her magic cell, • Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Poffeft beyond the Mufe’s painting ; By turns they felt the glowing mind Difturb’d, delighted, rais’d, refin’d. Till once, ’tis faid, when all were fir’d, Fill’d with fury, rapt, infpir’d, From the fupporting myrtles round They fnatch’d her inftruments of found : And (p) One of the Hebrides is called the Ife of Pigmies, where it is reported, that feveral miniature bones of the human fpecies have been dug up in the ruins of a chapel there. (tp) Icolmkill, one of the Hebrides, where many of the ancient Scottilh, Irifh, and Norwegian kings, are faid to be interred. (r) This line wanting in Dr Carlyle’s edition. (s) This line wanting in Dr Carlyle’s edition. (t) This line wanting in Dr Carlyle’s edition. (u) Ben Jonfon paid a vifit on foot in 1619 to the Scotch poet Drummond, at his feat of Hawthornden, within feven miles of Edinburgh. (x) Barrow, it feems, was at the univerffty of Edinburgh, which is inthe county of Lothian. Part II. Of Lyric And as they oft had heard apart Loetiy Sweet leflbns of her forceful art, V" v Each, for madnefs rul’d the hour, Would prove his own expreffive power. Firft Fear his hand, its {kill to try, Amid the chords bewilder’d laid, And back recoil’d, he knew not why, Ev’n at the found himfelf had made. Next Anger rufh’d 5 his eyes on fire, In lightnings own’d his lecret flings j In one rude clafh he (truck the lyre, And fwept with hurried hand the firings. With woeful meafures wan Defpair— Low fullen founds his grief beguil’d •, A folemn, flrange, and mingled air •, ’Twas fad by fits, by flarts ’twas wild. But thou, O Hope ! with eyes fo fair, What was thy delighted meafuve ? Still it whifper’d promis’d pleafure, And bade the lovely fcenes at diilance hail ’— Still would her touch the ftrain prolong, And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call’d on Echo flill through all her fong; And where her fweeteft theme fhe chofe, A foft refponfive voice was heard at every clofe, And Hope enchanted fmil’d, and wav’d her golden hair. And longer had fire fung ;—but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rofe ; He threw his blood-flain’d fword in thunder down, And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blaft fo loud and dread, Were ne’er prophetic founds fo full of woe. And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat ; And though fometimes, each dreary paufe between, Dejefted Pity at his fide Her foul-fubduing voice applied, Yet flill he kept his wild unalter’d mien, While each drain’d ball of fight ieem’d burfling from his head. Thy numbers, Jealoufy, to nought were fix’d, Sad proof of thy difirefsful date ■, Of differing themes the veering fong was mix’d 5 And now it courted Love, now raving call’d on Hate. With eyes up-rais’d, as one infpir’d, Pale Melancholy fat retir’d, And from her wild fequefler’d feat, In notes by diflance made more fweet, Pour’d through the mellow horn her penfive foul, And dadfing foft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join’d the found 3 Through glades and glooms the mingled meafure dole, Or o’er fome haunted dreams with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffufing, Love of peace, and lonely mufing, In hollow murmurs died away. But O ! how alter’d was its fprightlier tone ! When Cheerfulnefs, a nymph of healthied hue, Her bow acrofs her fhoulder flung, Her bufkins gemm’d with morning dew, 2. P O E T E Y. Blew an infpiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter’s call to Faun and Dryad known 3 The oak-crown’d filters, and their chade-ey’d queen, Satyrs and fylvan boys were feen, Peeping from forth their alleys green 3 Brown Exercife rejoic’d to hear, And Sport leapt up, and feiz’d his beechen fpear. Lad came Joy’s ecdatic trial 3 He, with viny crown advancing, Fird to the lively pipe his hand addreft,! But foon he favv the brifk awakening viol, Whofe fweet entrancing voice he lov’d the bed. They would have thought who heard the drain, They faw in Tempe’s vale her native maids, Amidd the fedal founding diades, To fome unwearied mindrel dancing, While, as his dying fingers kifs’d the firings, Love fram’d with Mirth a gay fantadic round : Loofe were her treffes feen, her zone unbound 3 And he, amidd his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thoufand odours from his dewy wings.. O mufic ! fphere-defcended maid, Friend of pleafure, wifdom’s aid, Why, Goddefs, why to us denied ? Fay’d thou thy ancient lyre afide ? As in that lov’d Athenian bower, You learn’d an all-commanding power : Thy mimic foul, O Nymph endear’d, Can well recall what then it heard. Where is thy native fimple heart, Devote to virtue, fancy, art ? Arife, as in that elder time, Warm, energic, chade, fublirae ! Thy wonders, in that god-like age, Fill thy recording dder’s page— ’Tis faid, and I believe the tale, Thy humbled reed could more prevail, Had more of firength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age 3 Ev’n all at once together found Caecilia’s mingled world of found— O ! bid our vain endeavours ceafe, Revive the jud defigns of Greece, Return in all thy fimple date ! Confirm the tfdes her fons relate. We fliall conclude this fe&ion, and thefe examples, with Gray’s Progrefs of Poefy, which, in fpite of the fe- verity of Johnfon’s criticifm, certainly ranks high among the odes which pretend to fublimity. The fird danza, when examined by the frigid rules of grammatical criti- cifm, is certainly not faultlefs ; but its faults will be overlooked by every reader who has any portion of the author’s fervour : I. I. Awake, Aiolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling firings ; From Helicon’s harmonious fprings A thoufand rills their mazy progrefs take 3 The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich dream of mufic winds along, Deep, majedic, fmooth, and drong, Thro’ i6 Of Lyric Poetry. POETRY. Thro’ verdant vales, and Ceres’ golden reign : ^ Now rolling down the fteep amain, Headlong, impetuous, fee it pour : The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar, I. 2. Oh ! Sovereign of the willing foul, Parent of fweet and folemn-breathing airs, Enchanting {hell! the fullen cares, And frantic paflions, hear thy foft controul. On Thracia’s hills the lord of war Has curb’d the fury of his car, And dropp’d his thirfty lance at thy command. Perching on the fceptfed hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather’d king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench’d in dark clouds of {lumber lie Tire terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. L 3- Thee the voice, the dance, obey, Temper’d to thy wTarbled lay : O’er Idalia’s velvet green The rofy-crowned loves are feen. On Cytherea’s day, With antic fports, and blue-ey’d pleafures, Frifking light in frolic meafures j Now purfuing, now retreating, Now in circling troops they meet £ To brilk notes, in cadence beating, Glance their many twinkling feet. Slow melting {trains their queen’s approach declare : Where’er Are turns, the Graces homage pay. With arms fublime, that float upon the air, In gliding ftate Ihe wans her eafy way : O’er her warm cheek, and riling bofom, move The bloom of young defire, and purple light of love. II. I. Man’s feeble race what ills await j Labour, and penury, the racks of pain, Difeafe, and forrow’s weeping train, And deaih, fad refuge from the ftorms of fate ! The fond complaint, my fong, difprove, And juftify the laws of Jove. Say, has he giv’n in vain the heav’nly mufe ? Night, and all her fickly dews, Her fpeftres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary Iky 5 Till down the eaftern cliffs afar Hyperion’s march they fpy, and glitt’ring {hafts of war. II. 2. In climes beyond the folar road, Where fhaggy forms o’er ice-built mountains roam, The Mufe has broke the twilight-gloom, To cheer the fliiv’ring native’s dull abode. And oft, beneath the od’rous {hade Of Chili’s boundlefs forefts laid, She deigns to hear the favage youth repeat, In loofe numbers wildly fweet, Their feather-cin&ur’d chiefs, and dufky loves. Her track, where’er the goddefs roves, Glory purfue, and gen’rous Ihame, Th’ unconquerable mind, and freedom’s holy flame. II. 3. Woods, that wave o’er Delphi’s fteep, Jfles, that crown the iEgean deep, 4 Fields, that cool Iliffus laves, Or where Maeander’s amber waves In ling’ring lab’rinths creep, How do your tuneful echoes languifti Mute, but to the voice of anguilh ! Where each old poetic mountain Infpiration breath’d around j Ev’ry {hade and hallow’d fountain Murmur’d deep a folemn found : Till the fad nine, in Greece’s evil hour, Left their Parnaffus for the Latian plains. Alike they fcorn the pomp of tyrant power, And coward vice that revels in her chains. When Latium had her lofty fpirit loft, 'l hey {ought, oh Albion ! next thy fea-encircled coafr. III. 1. Far from the fun, and fummer-gale. In thy green lap was nature’s * darling laid, What time, where lucid Avon ftray’d, To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face : the dauntlefs child Stretch’d forth his little arms, and fmil’d. 1 his pencil take (flie faid) whofe colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : I hine too thefe golden keys, immortal boy I This can unlock the gates of joy j Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the facred fource of fympathetic tears. III. 2. Nor fecond he -f, that rode fublime Upon the feraph wings of ecftafy, The fecrets of th’ abyfs to fpy. He pafs’d the flaming bounds of place and time : The living throne, the fapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He faw j but, blafted with excefs of light, Clos’d his eyes in endlefs night. Behold, where Dryden’s lefs prefumptuous car. Wide o’er the fields of glory bear Two courfers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder cloth’d, and long-refounding pace. HI. 3. Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! Bright-ey’d fancy, hov’ring o’er, Scatters from her piftur’d urn I houghts that breathe, and words that bum. But ah ! ’tis heard no more— Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring fpirit Wakes thee now ? tho’ he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban eagle bear, Sailing with fupreme dominion Through the azure deep of air : Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms as glitter in the Mufe’s ray, With orient hues, unborrow’d of the fun: Yet Ihall he mount, and keep his diftant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far—but far above the great. Sect. III. Of the Elegy. Part IL Of Lyric Poetry. * Shake* fpeare. f Milton, *3* The E/cgy is a mournful and plaintive, but yet fweet The elegy, and engaging, kind of poem. It was firft invented to bewail Part II.- P O E Elegy, bewail the death of a friend 5 and afterwards ufed to ex- prefs the complaints of lovers, or any other melancholy fubject. In procefs of time, not only matters of grief, Ifut joy, wiihes, prayers, expoftulations, reproaches, ad¬ monitions, and aim oil every other fubjeft, were admit¬ ted into elegy 5 however, funeral lamentations and af¬ fairs of love feem moll agreeable to its charafter, which is gentlenefs and tenuity. The plaintive elegy, in mournful ftate, Dilhevell’d weeps the Hern decrees of fate : Now paints the lover’s torments and delights } Now the nymph flatters, threatens, or invites. Tut he, who would thele paflions well exprefs, Muff more of love than poetry poffefs. I hate thofe lifelefs writers whofe forc’d fire In a cold flyle defcribes a hot defire ; Who figh by rule, and, raging in cold blood, 1 heir fluggifli mule fpur to an am’rous mood. i heir ecilafies iniipidly they feign j And always pine, and fondly hug their chain $ Adore their prifon, and their fuff’rings blefs Make leuie and reafon quarrel as they pleafe. ’Twas not of old in this affefted tone, i hat imooth 1 ibullus made his am’rous moan $ Or tender Ovid, in melodious ftrains, Of love's dear art ihe pleafing rules explains. You, who in elegy would jullly write, Confult your heart; let that alone endite. [From the French o/'Defpreux.] Soames. How-to b • an e^e§^’ as indeed of all other poems, nnide ° ought to be made before a line is written ; or elfe the author will ramble in the dark, and his verfes have no dependance on each other. No epigrammatic points or conceits, none of thofe fine things which moft people are lb fond of in every fort of poem, can be allowed in this, but mull give place to nobler beauties, thofe of nature and the pajfions. Elegy rejefts whatever is facetious, latirical, or majeftic, and is content to be plain, decent, and unaffected 5 yet in this humble ftate is (he fweet and engaging, elegant and attra&ive. This poem is jidorn- ed with frequent commiferations, complaints, exclama¬ tions, addreffes to things or perfons, ftiort and proper di- grejjions, allujions, comparifons, profopopceias or feigned perfons, and fometimes with fliort deferiptions. The diction ought to be free from any harjhnefs ; neat, eafy, pcrfpicuous, exprejjive of the manners, tender, and pathe¬ tic ; and the numbers ftiould be fmooth and fowing, and captivate the ear with their uniform fweetnefs and deli¬ cacy. Of elegies on the fubjeft of death, that by Mr Gray, written in a country churchyard, is one of the beft that has appeared in our language, and may be juftly efteem- ed a mafterpiece. But being fo generally known, it would be fuperfluous to infert it here. On the fubjedl of love, we ffall give an example from the elegies of Mr Kammond. Let others boaft their heaps of finning gold, And view their fields with waving plenty crown’d, Whom neighb’ring foes in conftant terror hold, And trumpets break their flumbers, never found : While, calmly poor, I trifle life away, Enjoy fweet leifure by my cheerful fire, No wanton hope my quiet fliall betray, Tut cheaply blefs’d I’ll fcorn each vain defire. Vol. XVII. Part I. T R Y. With timely care I’ll fow my little field, And plant my orchard with its mafter’s hand j Nor bluff to fpread the hay, the hook to wield, Or range my (heaves along the funny land. If late at dulk, while carelefsly I roam, I meet a lirolling kid or bleating lamb, Under my arm I’ll bring the wand’rer home, And not a little chide its thoughtlefs dam. W hat joy to hear the temped howl in vain, And clafp a fearful miftrefs to my bread ? Or lull’d to dumber by the beating rain, Secure and happy fink at laft to reft. Or if the fun in flaming Leo ride, Ty (hady rivers indolently ftray, And, with my Delia walking fide by fide, Hear how they murmur, as they glide away. What joy to wind along the cool retreat, To flop and gaze on Delia as I go ! To mingle fweet difeourfe with kiffes fweet, And leach my lovely fcholar all I know ! Thus pleas’d at heart, and not with fancy’s dream, In filent happinefs I reft unknown ; Content with what I am, not what I feem, I live for Delia and myfelf alone. Ah foolifh man ! who, thus of her poffefs’d, Could float and wander with ambition’s wind, And, if his outward trappings fpoke him bleft, Not heed the ficknefs of his confcious mind. With her I fcorn the idle breath of praife. Nor truft to happinefs that’s not our own ; The fmile of fortune might fufpicion raife, But here I know that I am lov’d alone. Stanhope, in wifdom as in wit divine, May rife and plead Britannia’s glorious caufe, Writh fteady rein his eager wit confine, While manly fenfe the deep attention draws. Let Stanhope (peak his lift’ning country’s wrong, My humble voice fliall pleafe one partial maid j For her alone I pen my tender fong, Securely fitting in his friendly (hade. Stanhope (hall come, and grace his rural friend j Delia (hall wonder at her noble gueft, With blufhing awe the riper fruit commend, And for her hufband’s patron cull the beft. Her’s be the care of all my little train, While I with tender indolence am bleft, The favourite fubjedl of her gentle reign, By love alone diftinguifti’d from the reft. For her I’ll yoke my oxen to the plough, In gloomy forefts tend my lonely flock, For her a goatherd climb the mountain’s brow, And deep extended on the naked rock. Ah ! what avails to prefs the (lately bed, And far from her ’midft taftelefs grandeur weep, By marble-fountains lay the penfive head, And, while they murmur, drive in vain to deep ! Delia alone can pleafe and never tire, Exceed the paint of thought in true delight; With her, enjoyment wakens new defire, And equal rapture glows thro’ ev’ry night. Beauty and worth in her alike contend To charm the fancy, and to fix the mind 5 In her, my wife, my miftrefs, and my friend, I tafte the joys of fenle and reafon join’d. C On 2 8 POETRY. Part II. FaftoraL I35 The pafto- raL 136 Why it gC' iierally pleafes. Its charac¬ ters and On her I’ll gaze when others are loves o’er, And dying prefs her with nny clay-cold hand—— Thou weep’ll already, as I were no more, Nor can that gentle bread the thought withftand. Oh ! when I die, my latell moments (pare, Nor let thy grief with fharper torments kill : Waund not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair} Tho’ 1 am dead, my foul fhall love thee dill. Oh quit the room, oh quit the deathful bed, Or thou wilt die, fo tender is thy heart ! Oh leave me, Delia ! ere thou fee me dead, Thefe weeping friends will do thy mournful part. Let them, extended on the decent bier, Convey the cone in melancholy date, Thro’ all the village fpread the tender tear, While pitying maids our wond’rous love relate. Sect. IV. Of the Paforal. Tins poem takes its name from the Latin word po/lor, a “ Ihepherd }” the fubjedl of it being fomething in the padoxal or rural life ; and the perfons, interlocutors, in¬ troduced in it, either (hepherds or other rudics. Thefe poems are frequently called eclogues, which figni- fies “ feleft or choice pieces 5” though fome account for this name in a different manner. They are alfo called bucolicks, from Ea^oAo?, “ a herdfman.” This kind of poem, when happily executed, gives great delight; nor is it a wonder, fmce innocence and flim- piicity generally pleafe : to which let us add, that the fcenes of padorals are ufually laid in the country, where both poet and painter have abundant matter for the exer- cife of genius, fuch as enchanting profpefts, purling dreams, fhady groves, enamelled meads, flowery lawns, rural amufements, the bleating of flocks, and the .muflc of birds } which is of all melody the mod fweet and plea- fing, and calls to our mind the wifdom and tade of Alexander, who, on being importuned to hear a man that imitated the notes of the nightingale, and wras thought a great curioflty, replied, that he had had the happinefs of hearing the nightingale herfelf. The character of the padoral confids in fimplicity, brevity, and delicacy \ the two fird render an eclogue natural, and the lad delightful. With refpedt to na¬ ture, indeed, we are to confider, that as a padoral is an image of the ancient times of innocence and undefign- ing plainnefs, we are not to defcribe fhepherds as they really are at this day, but as they may be conceived then to have been, when the bed of men, and even princes, followed the employment. For this reafon, an air of piety flrould run through the whole poem } which is vifible in the writings of antiquity. To make it natural with refpeft to the prefent age, fome knowledge in rural affairs flaould be difcovered, and that in fuch a manner as if it was done by chance rather than by deflgn ; led by too much pains to feem natural, that fimplicity be dedroyed from whence arifes the delight *, for what is fo engaging in this kind of poefy proceeds not fo much from the idea of a coun¬ try life itfelf, as in expofing only the bed part of a fhep- herd’s life, and concealing the misfortunes and miferies which fometimes attend it. Befides, the fubjeft mud con¬ tain fome particular beauty m itfelf, and each eclogue pre- (ent a fcene or profpeft to our view enriched with variety: which variety is in a great meafure obtained by frequent Paftora!. comparii’ons drawn from the mod agreeable objedfls of the 1 -1' country 5 by interrogations to things inanimate j by fliort and beautiful digreffions} and by elegant turns on the words, which render the numbers more fweet and plea- fing. To this let us add, that the connections mud be negligent, the narrations and defcriptions fliort, and the periods concife. Riddles, parables, proverbs, antique phrafes, and fu- perditious fables, are fit materials to be intermixed with this kind of poem. They are here, when properly ap¬ plied, very ornamental \ and the more fo, as they give our modern compofitions the air of the ancient manner of writing. I3g The ftyle of the padoral ought to be humble, yetftyle. pure ; neat, but not florid } ealy, and yet lively : and the numbers fliould be fmooth and flowing. This poem in general fhould be ftiort, and ought, never much to exceed 100 lines j for we are to confi¬ der that the ancients made thefe fort of compofitions their amufement, and not their bufinefs : but however ftiort they are, every eclogue mud contain a plot or fable, which mud be Ample and one 5 but yet fo ma¬ naged as to admit of fliort digreflions. Virgil has al¬ ways obferved this. We ftiall give the plot or ar¬ gument of his fird padoral as an example. Melibceus, an unfortunate Jhepherd, is introduced xvith Tityrus, one in more fortunate circumjlances ; the former addrejfes the complaint of,hisfujferings and banifhment to the latter, who enjoys hisflocks andfolds in the midflof the public calamity, and therefore expreffes his gratitude to the benefactor from whom this favour flowed: but Meliboeus accufes fortune, civil wars, and bids adieu to his native country. This is therefore a dialogue. But we are to obferve, that the poet is not always obliged to make his eclogue allegorical, and to have real perfons reprefented by the fictitious characters intro¬ duced 5 but is in this refpeCt entirely at his own li¬ berty. Nor does the nature of the poem require it to be al¬ ways carried on by way of dialogue 5 for a fhepherd may with propriety ling the praifes of his love, com¬ plain of her incondancy, lament her abfence, her death, &c. and addrefs himfelf to groves, hills, rivers, and fuch like rural objeCts, even when alone. We fball now give an example from each of thofe au¬ thors who have eminently didinguiflied themfelves by this manner of writing, and introduce them in the order of time in which they were written. ^ Theocritus, who was the father or inventor of this Examples kind of poetry, has been defervedly edeemed by the the pa- bed critics ; and by fome, whofe judgement we cannot ;^ra'‘ difpute, preferred to all other padoral writers, with perhaps the Angle exception of the tender and delicate Gefner. We fhall infert his third idyllium, not becaufe it is the bed, but becaufe it is within our compafs. To Amaryllis, lovely nymph, I fpeed, Meanwhile my goats upon the mountains feed. O Tityrus, tend them with afliduous care, Lead them to crydal fprings and padures fair, And of the ridgling’s butting horns beware. Sweet Amaryllis, have you then forgot Our fecret pleafures in the confcious grott, Where Pan II. POE Paftoval. Where in my folding arms you lay reclin’d ? Bleit was the thepherd, for the nymph was kind. I whom you call’d J/oi/r Dear, your Love, fo late, Say, am I now the objefl of your hate ? Say, is my form difpleafing to your fight ? This cruel love will furely kill me quite. Lo ! ten large apples, tempting to the view, Pluck’d from your favourite tree, where late they grew. Accept this boon, ’tis all my prefent llore j To-morrow will produce as many more. Meanwhile thefe heart-confuming pains remove, And give me gentle pity for my love. Oh ! was I made by fome transforming power A bee to buzz in your fequefter’d bow’r ! To pierce your ivy (hade with murmuring found, And the light leaves that compafs you around. I know thee, Love, and to my forrow find, A god thou art, but of the favage kind ^ A lionefs fure fuckied the fell child, And rvilh his brothers nurll him in the wild } On me his fcorchmg flames inceflant prey, Glow in my bones, and melt my foul away. Ah, nymph, whofe eyes deftrudfive glances dartt Fair is your face, but flinty is your heart: With kiffes kind this rage of love appeafe ; For me, fond fwain ! ev’n empty kifles pleafe. Your fcorn diftradls me, and will make me tear The flowr’ry crown I wove for you to wear, Where rofes mingle with the ivy-wreath, And fragrant herbs ambrofial odours breathe. Ah me ! what pangs I feel •, and yet the fair Nor fees my forrows nor will hear my prayer. I’ll doff my garments, fince I needs muft die, And from yon rock that points its fummit high, Where patient Alpis fnares the finny fry, I’ll leap, and, though perchance I rife again, You’ll laugh to fee me plunging in the main. By a prophetic poppy-leaf I found Your chang’d affeftion, for it gave no found, Though in my hand ilruck hollow as it lay, But quickly wither’d like your love away. An old witch brought fad tidings to my ears, She who tells fortunes with the fieve and fheers For leafing barley in my fields of late, She told me, I fliould love, and you flrould hate ! For you my care a milk-white goat fupply’d. Two wanton kids run frilking at her fide ; Which oft the nut-brown maid, Erithacis, Has begg’d and paid before-hand with a kifs ; And fince you thus my ardent pafiion flight, Her’s they fliall be before to-morrow night. My right eye itches ; may it lucky prove, Perhaps I foon {hall fee the nymph I love ; Beneath yon pine I’ll fing diilindl and clear, Perhaps the fair my tender notes fhall hear 5 Perhaps may pity my melodious moan ; She is not metamorphos’d into ftone. Hippomenes, provok’d by noble ilrife, To win a miftrefs, or to lofe his life, Threw golden fruit in Atalanta’s way : The bright temptation caus’d the nymph to flay j She look’d, flie languifli’d, all her foul took fire, She plung’d into the gulf of deep defire. To Pyle from Othrys fage Melampus came, He drove the lowing herd, yet won the dame) } 1 T R Y. Fair Pero bleft his brother Bias’ arms, And in a virtuous race diffus’d unfading charms. Adonis fed his cattle on the plain, And fea-born Venus lov’d the rural fwain ; She mourn’d him wounded in the fatal chace, Nor dead difmifs’d him from her warm embrace. Though young Endymion was by Cynthia bleff, I envy nothing but his lafting reit. Jafion flumb’ring on the Cretan plain Ceres once faw, and bleff the happy fwain With pleafures too divine for ears profane. My head growls giddy, love affedls me fore *, Yet you regard not j fo I’ll fing no more- Here will I put a period to my care— Adieu, falfe nymph, adieu ungrateful fair ; Stretch’d near the grotto, when I’ve breath’d my laff, My corfe will give the wolves a rich repart, As fvveet to them as honey to your tafte. Fawkes. 14® Virgil fucceeds Theocritus, from whom he has in Virgil, fome places copied, and always imitated wdth fuccefs. As a fpecimen of his manner, we fliall introduce his firfl: paftoral, which is generally allowed to be the moft per¬ fect. Meliboeus and Tityrus. Me/. Beneath the fhade which beechen boughs diffufe, You, Tityrus, entertain your fylvan mufe. Round the wide world in banifliment we roam, Forc’d from our pleafing fields and native home ; While ftretch’d at eafe you fing your happy loves. And Amyrillis fills the fliady groves. Tit. Thefe bleffings, friend, a deity beftow’d j For never can I deem him lefs than god. The tender firftling of my woolly breed Shall on his holy altar often bleed. He gave me kine to graze the flow’ry plain. And fo my pipe renewed the rural ftrain. Me/. I envy not your fortune *, but admire, That while the raging fword and wafteful fire Heffroy the wretched neighbourhood around, No hoftile arms approach your happy ground. Far diff’rent is my fate •, my feeble goats With pains I drive from their forfaken cotes: And this you fee I fcarcely drag along, Who yeaning on the rocks has left her young, The hope and promife of my falling fold. My lofs by dire portents the gods foretold j For, had I not been blind, I might have feen Yon riven oak, the faireft on the green, And the hoarfe raven on the blafted bough By croaking from the left prefag’d the coming blow. But tell me, Tityrus, what heav’nly pow’r Preferv’d your fortunes in that fatal hour ? Tit. Fool that I vras, I thought imperial Rome Like Mantua, where on market-days we come, And thither drive our tender lambs from home. So kids and whelps their fires and dams exprefs j And fo the great I meafur’d by the lefs : But country-towns, compar’d with her, appear Like fhrubs when lofty cyprefles are near. Me/. What great occafion call’d you hence to Rome ? Tit. Freedom, which came at length, tho’ flow to come ; C 2 Nor 20 P.iftor'a' Nor did my fearcli of liberty begin y Xill my black hairs were chang’d upon Nor Amaryllis would vouch fa :e a look, Till Galatea’s meaner bonds I broke. P O E chir Till then a helplefs, hopelefs, homely Twain, I fought not freedom, nor afpir’d to p-ain : Tho’ many a vidlim from my folds was bought, And many a clieefe to country markets brought, Yet all the little that I got I fpent, And ftili return’d as empty as I went. Mel. We Hood amaz’d to lee your miflrefs mourn. Unknowing that Ihe pin’d for your return j We wonder’d why (lie kept her fruit fo lono-, For whom fo late th’ ungather’d apples hung : But now the wonder ceafes, fince i fee • She kept them only, Tityrus, for thee : For thee the bubb’ling fprings appear’d to mourn, And whifp’ring pines made vows for thy return. _ Tit.' What (hould I do ? while here I was enchain’d, No glimpTe of .godlike liberty remain’d 5 Nor could i hope in any place but there To find a god lb prefent to my p'rav’,-. There firft the youth of heav’nly birth I view’d, For whom our monthly viciims are renew’d. Ide heard my vows, and gracioufly decreed My grounds to be reltor’d my former flocks to fee.d Me/. O fortunate old man ! waofe farm remains For you fu.Ticient, and requites your pains, 'fhough ruflies overfpread the neighb’ring plains, Tho’ here the marihy grounds approach your fields, And there the foil a deny harvdi yields. Your teeming ewes fhall no ft range meadows try, Nor fear a rot from tainted company. Behold yon bord’ring fence of fallow trees Is fraught with fiow’rs, the flovv’rs are fraught with bees The bufy bees, with a foft murm’ring ftrain, Invite to gentle deep the lab’ring fwain : While from the neighb’ring rock with rural fongs The pruner’s voice the pleafing dream prolongs ; btock doves and turtles tell their am’rous pain, And, from the lofty elms, of love complain. 7 it. I h’ inhabitants of feas and Ikies (ball change x\nd fifli on ftiore and flags in air ftiall range, The banifh’d Parthian dwell on Arar’s brink, And the blue German fhall the Tigris drink j Ere I, forfaking gratitude and truth, lorget the figure of that godlike youth. Mel. But we mull beg our bread in climes unknown Beneath the fcorching or the freezing zone} And fome to far Oaxis ftiall be fold, Or try the Libyan heat or Scythian cold ; The reft among the Britons be confin’d, A race of men from all the world disjoin’d. O! muft the wretched exiles ever mourn ? Nor after length of rolling years return ? Are we condemn’d by Fate’s unjuft decree, No more our houfes and our homes to fee ? Or (hall w'e mount again the rural throne, And rule the country, kingdoms once our own ? Did we for thefe barbarians plant and fow, On thefe, on thefe, our happy fields bellow ? Good heav’n, what dire effedls from civil difeords flow Now let me graft my pears, and prune the vine ; • The fruit is theirs, the labour only mine. T R Y. Farewel my paftures, my paternal flock! My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock ! No more, my goals, {hail I behold you climb i he ileepy ctifts, or crop the flovv’ry thyme 5 No more extended in the grot below, Shall fee you browzing on the mountain’s brow The prickly Ihrubs, and after on the bare Lean down the deep abyfs and hang in air ! No more my fheep ihall lip the morning dew j No more my long {hall pleafe the rural crew : Adieu, my tuneful pipe ! and all the world, adieu ! Tit. This night, at lead, with me forget your care Chefnuts and curds and cream {hail be your fare : The carpel ground ihall be with leaves o’erfpread, And boughs {hail weave a cov’ring for your head : For fee yon funny hill the (hade extends, And curling finoke from cottages afeends. Part II. Ps (rural. Dryden. Spender was the firft of our countrymen who acquired Spenfer. any confiderabie reputation-by this method of writing. We fhall infert his fixth eclogue, or that for June, which is allegorical, as will be feen by the Argument. “ Ilobbinol, from a defeription of the pie a fares of the place, excites Colin to the enjoyment of them. Colin declares himfelf incapable of delight by reafon of his ill fuccefs in love, and his lofs of Rofa- lind, who had treacheroufly forfaken him for Menalcas another fhepherd. By Tityrus (mentioned before in Spenfer’s fecond eclogue, and again in the twelfth) is plainly meant Chaucer, whom the author fometimes profefied to imitate. In the perfon of Colin is repre- fented the author himfelf; and Hobbinol’s inviting him to leave the hill country, feems to allude to his leaving the north, where, as is mentioned in his life, he had for fome time refided.” Hob. Lo ! Colin, here the place, whofe pleafant fight From other fliades hath wean’d my wand’ring mind : Tell roe, what wants me here, to work delight ? The fimple air, the gentle warbling wind, So calm, fo cool, as nowhere die I find : The grafify ground with dainty dailies dight, The bramble-bulb, where birds of every kind To th’ water’s fall their tunes attemper right. Col. O ! happy Hobbinol, I blefs thy Hate, T-hat paradife haft found which Adam loft. Here wander may thy flock early or late, Withouten dread of wolves to been ytoft ; Thy lovely lays here mayft thou freely boaft : But I, unhappy man ! whom cruel fate, And angry gods, purfue from coaft to ccaft, Can nowhere find to fhroud my lucklefs pate. Hob. Then if by me thou lift advifed be, Forfake the foil that fo doth thee bewitch : Leave me thofe hills, where harbroughnis to fee, Nor holly bufh, nor brere, nor winding ditch •, And to the dales refort, where fliepherds rich, And fruitful flocks been everywhere to fee : Here no night-ravens lodge, more black than pitch, Nor elvilh ghofts, nor ghaftly owls do flee. But friendly fairies met with many graces, And light-foot nymphs can chace the ling’ring night, With heydeguies, and trimly trodden traces ; Whilft lifters nine, which dwell on Parn^fs’ height, Do 2 I Pa t r. POE Pa'.toral. Do make tkem malic, for their more delight j And Pan himfelf to kifs their cryftal faces, Will pipe and dance, when Phoebe fhinelh bright: Such peerlefs pleafures have we in thefe places. Co/. And I whilll youth, and courfe of carelefs years, Did let me walk withouten links of love, In fuch delights did joy amonglt my peers : But riper age inch plealures doth reprove, My fancy eke from former follies move To iirayed lleps : for time in puffing wears (As garments doen, which waxen old above) And draweth new delights with hoary hairs. Though couth I ling of love, and tune my pipe Unto my plaintive pleas in verfes made : Though would I feek for queen-apples unripe To give iny Rofalind, and in fommer tirade Dight gawdy girlonds was my common trade, To crown her golden locks : but years more ripe, And lofs of her, whofe love as life I wayde, Thofe weary wanton toys away did wipe. Hob. Colin, to hear thy rhymes and roundelays, Which thou wert wont on wafteful hills to ting, I more delight, than lark in fommer days : Whofe echo made the neighbour groves to ring, And taught the birds, which in the lower fpring Did tlirdud in thady leaves from funny ravs, Frame to thy fong their cheerful cheripklg, Or hold their peace, for tliame of thy fvveet lays. I faw Calliope with mufes moe, Soon as thy oaten pipe began to found, 'Their ivory lutes and tamburins forego, And from the fountain, wdiere they fate around, Hen after haftily thy tilver found. But when they came, where thou thy {kill didft fliow, They drew aback, as half with fhame confound, Shepherd to fee, them in their art outgo. Col. Of mufes, Hobbinol, I con no fldll, For they been daughters of the higheft Jove, And holden fcorn of homely fhepherds quill : For hth I heard that Pan with Phoebus drove Which him to much rebuke and danger drove, I never lift prefume to Parnafs* hill, But piping low, in (hade of lowly grove, I play to pleafe myfelf, albeit ill. Nought weigh I, who my fong doth praife or blame, Ne drive to win renown, or pafs the reft : With fhepherds fits not follow" dying fame, But feed his flocks in fields, -where falls him beft. I wot my rimes been rough, and rudely dreft j The fitter they, my careful cafe to frame : Enough is me to paint out my unreft, And pour my piteous plaints out in the fame. The God of fhepherds, Tityrus, is dead, Who taught me homely, as I can, to make : Fie, whilft he lived, was the fov’reign head Of ihepherds all, that been with love ytake. Well couth he wail his woes, and lightly flake The flames wTich love within his heart had bred, And tell us merry tales to keep us -wake, The while our flreep about us fafely fed. Now dead he is, and lieth wrapt in lead, (O why fhould death on him fuch outrage (how !) And all his paffiing fkill with him is fled, The fame whereof doth daily greater growr. But if on me fome little drops -would flow R Y Patios.. 14a Of that the [prir g was in his learned bed, I foon wo. IT learn thefe woods to wail my woe, And teach the trees their trickling tears to tired. Then would my plaints, caus’d of difcourtefee, As meffengers of ihis my painful flight, Fly to my love, wherever that the be, And pierce her heart with point of worthy wight ; As the deferves, that wrought fo deadly fpight. And thbu, Menalcas, that by treachery Didft underfong my lafs to wax fo light, Should’!! weli be known for fuch thy villany. But tiace 1 am not, as I with I were, Ye gentle thepheids, which your flocks do feed, Whether on bills or dales, or other where, Bear witnefs all of this fo wicked deed : And tell the lafs, whofe flower is wc.xe a weed, And faultlefs faitli is turn’d to faithlefs feere, That the the trueft flrepherd’s heart made bleed, That lives on earth, and loved her moft dear. Hob. O ! careful Colin, I lament thy cafe, Thy tears would make the hardeft flint to flow i Ah ! faithlefs Rofalind, and void of grace, That art the root of all this rueful woe ! But now is time, I guefs, homeward to go ; Then rife, ye bletfed flocks, and home apace Left night with Healing fteps do you foreflo, And wet your tender lambs that by you trace. By the following eclogue the reader will perceive that philips. Mr Philips has, in imitation of Spenfer, preferved in his paftorals many antiquated words, which, though they are difearded from polite converfation, may naturally be fuppofed ttill to have place among the thepherds and other nifties in the country. We have made choice of his fccond eclogue, becauie it is brought home to his own bufinefs, and contains a complaint again!! thofe who had fpoken ill of him and his writings. Thenot, Colinet. Tk. Is it not Colinet I lonefome fee Leaning with folded arms again!! the tree ? Or is it age of late bedims my fight ? ’Tis Cclinet, indeed, in woful plight. Thy cloudy look, why melting into tears, Unfeemly, now the !ky io bright appears ? Why in this mournful manner art thou found, Unthankful lad, when all things fmile around ? Or hear’!!, not lark and linnet jointly ling, Their notes bljthe-warbling to falute the fpring ? Co. Tho’ blithe their notes, not fo my wayward fate j Nor lark would fing, nor linnet, in my Hate. Each creature, Tlienot, to his tafk is born ; As they to mirth and mufic, I to mourn. Waking, at midnight, I my woes renew, My tears oft mingling with the falling dew. Th. Small caule, I ween, has lufty youth to plain ; Or who may then the weight of eld fuftain, When every flackening nerve begins to fail, And the load preffeth as cur days prevail ? Yet though with years my body downward tend, As trees beneath their fruit in autumn bend, Spite of my fnowy head and icy veins, My mind a cheerful temper ftill retains ; And why fliould man, mifliap what will, repine, Sour every fvveet, and mix with tears his wine ? But tell me then ; it may relieve thy w-oe, To let a friend thine inward ailment know. a? 2 2 POE , Fa^oraI- ^ Co. Idly “hvill wafte thee, Tlienot, the whole day, v Should’!! thou give ear to all my grief can fay. Thine ewes will wander ; and the heedlefs lambs, • In loud complaints, require their abfent dams. Th. See Lightfoot; he (liall tend them clofe: and I, ’Tween whiles, acrofs the plain will glance mine eye. Co. Where to begin I know not, where to end. Does there one fmiling hour my youth attend ? Though few my days, as well my follies fhow, T et are thofe days all clouded o’er with wo : No happy gleam of funlhine doth appear, My low’ring iky and winl’ry months to cheer. My piteous plight in yonder naked tree, Which bears the thunder-fear too plain, I fee : Quite deftitute it ftands of Ihelter kind, The mark of ftorms, and fport of every wind ; The riven trunk feels not the approach of fpring j Nor birds among the leaflefs branches fmg : No more, beneath thy tirade, fhall fhepherds throng With jocund tale, or pipe, or pleating fong. Ill-fated tree ! and more ill-fated I ! From thee, from me, alike the (hepherds fly. Th. Sure thou in haplefs hour of time waft born, When blighlning mildews fpoil the rifing corn, Or blafting winds o’er bloflbm’d hedge-rows pafs, To kill the promis’d fruits, and fcorch the grafs, Or when the moon, by wizard charm’d, foreftiows, .Blood-ftain’d in foul eclipfe, impending woes. Untimely born, ill luck betides thee fiill. Co. And can there, Thenot, be a greater ill ? Th. Nor fox, nor wolf, nor rot among ourftheep : From thefe good fhepherd’s care his flock may keep 5 Againft ill luck, alas ! all forecaft fails ; Nor toil by day, nor watch by night, avails. Co. Ah me, the while ! ah me, the lucklefs day ! Ah lucklefs lad ! befits me more to fay. Unhappy hour! when frefti in youthful bud, I left, Sabrina fair, thy filv’ry flood. Ah filly I ! more filly than my flieep, Which on thy flow’ry banks I wont to keep. Sweet are thy banks 5 oh, when fhall I once more With ravifh’d eyes review thine amell’d fhore ? When, in the cryftal of thy waters, fcan Each feature faded, and my colour wan ? When {hall I fee my hut, the fmall abode Myfelf did raife and cover o’er with fod ? Small though it be, a mean and humble cell, Yet is there room for peace and me to 'dwell. Th. And -what inticement charm’d thee far away From thy lov’d home, and led thy heart aftray ? Co. A lewd defire ftrange lands and fwains to know. Ah n^e ! that every I ftiould covet wo. With wund’ring feet unbleft, and fond of fame, I fought I know not what befides a name. Th. Or, footh to fay, didft thou not hither roms In fearch of gains more plenty than at home ? A rolling ftone is ever bare of mofs \ And, to their coft, green years old proverbs crofs. Co. Small need there wras, in random fearch of gain, To drive my pining flock athwart the plain To diftant Cam. Fine gain at length, I trow, To hoard up to myfelf fuch deal of wo ! My fheep quite fpent through travel and ill fare, And like their keeper ragged grown and bare, T R Y. Part 11. I he damp cold green fwarct for my nightly bed, Paftoral. And fome flaunt willow’s trunk to reft my head. '■' Hard is to bear of pinching cold the pain j And hard is want to the unpradlis’d fwain 5 But neither want, nor pinching cold, is hard, I o blafting ftorms of calumny compar’d : Unkind as hail it fails} the pelting fho'w’r Deftroys the tender herb and budding flow’r. 1 h. Slander we fhepherds count the vileft wrong : And what wounds forer than an evil tongue ? Co. Untoward lads, the wTanton imps of fpite Make mock of all the ditties I endite. In vain, O Colinet, thy pipe, fo flirill, Charms every vale, and gladdens every hill: In vain thou feek’ft the coverings of the grove, In the cool lhade to fing the pains of love : Sing what thou wilt, ill-nature will prevail j And every elf hath fkill enough to rail. But yet, though poor and artlefs be my vein, Menalcas feems to like my Ample ftrain : And while that he delighteth in my fong, Which to Ihe good Menalcas doth belong, Nor night nor day fhall my rude mufic ceafe j I a!k no more, fo I Menalcas pleafe. Th. Menalcas, lord of thefe fair fertile plains, Preferves the flieep, and o’er the fliepherds reigns j For him our yearly wakes and feafts we hold, And choofe the faireft firftlings from the fold ; He, good to all who good deferves, fliall give Fhy flock to feed, and thee at eafe to live, Shall curb the malice of unbridled tongues, And bounteoufly reward thy rural fongs. Co. Firft then fhall lightfome birds forget to fly, - The briny ocean turn to paftures dry, And every rapid river ceafe to flow, Ere I unmindful of Menalcas grow. Th. This night thy care with me forget, and fold I. by flock with mine, to ward th’ injurious cold. New milk, and clouted cream, mild cheefe and curd, With fome remaining fruit of laft year’s hoard, Shall be our ev’ning fare \ and, for the night, Sweet herbs and mofs, which gentle fleep invite: And now behold the fun’s departing ray, O’er yonder hill, the fign of ebbing day: With fongs the jovial hinds return from plow j And unyok’d heifers, loitering homeward, low. Mr Pope’s Paftorals next appeared, but in a different Pope. drefs from thofe of Spenfer and Philips; for he has dif- carded all antiquated words, drawn his fwains more mo¬ dern and polite, and made his numbers exquifitely har¬ monious : his eclogues therefore may be called better poems, but not better paftorals. We fhall infert the ec¬ logue he has inferibed to Mr W7ycherly, the beginning of which is in imitation of Virgil’s firft paftoral. Beneath the {hade a fpreading beech difplays, Hylas and Atgon fung their rural lays : This mourn’d a faithlefs, that an abfent love, And Delia’s name and Doris fill’d the grove. Ye Mantuan nymphs, your facred fuccour bring 5 Hylas and iEgon’s rural lays I fing. Thou, whom the nine with Plautus’ wdt infpire, 1 he art of Terence, and Menander’s fire : Whofe fenfe infhucls us, and whofe humour charms, V7hofe judgement fftays us, and whofe fpirit warms ! Oh Part II. POE Pa flora 1. Oh, {kill’d in nature ! fee the hearts of fwains, Their artlefs paflions, and their tender pains. Now felting Phoebus flione ferenely bright, And tleecy clouds were ftreak’d with purple light; When tuneful Hylas, with melodious moan, Taught rocks to weep, and made the mountains groan. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away ! To Delia’s ear the tender notes convey. As fome fad turtle his loft love deplores, And with deep murmurs fills the founding Ihores j Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I mourn, Alike unheard, unpity’d, and forlorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along ! For her the feather’d quires negleft their fong; For her, the limes their pleating {hades deny For her, the lilies hang their head and die. Ye flow’rs, that droop forfaken by the fpring 5 Ye birds, that left by fummer ceafe to fing ; Ye trees, that fade when autumn’s heats remove } Say, is not abfence death to thofe who love ? Go, gentle gales, and bear thy fighs away ! Cur’d be the fields that caufe my Delia’s ftay : Fade ev’ry bloifom, wither ev’ry tree, Die ev’ry flow’r and perilh all but fire. What have 1 faid ? where’er my Delia flies, Let fpring attend, and hidden flow’rs arife } Let opening rofes knotted oaks adorn, And liquid amber drop from ev’ry thorn. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs along ! The birds fliall ceafe to tune their ev’ning fong, The winds to breathe, the waving woods to move, And ftreams to murmur, ere I ceafe to love. Not bubbling fountains to the thirfty fwain, Not balmy fleep to lab’rers faint with pain, Not fliow’rs to larks, or funlhine to the bee, Are half fo charming as thy fight to me. Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away ! Come, Delia, come ! ah, why this long delay ? Through rocks and caves the name of Delia founds \ Delia, each cave and echoing rock rebounds. Ye pow’rs, what pleafing frenzy foothes my mind ! Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind ? She comes, my Delia comes !—now ceafe, my lay j And ceafe, ye gales, to bear my fighs away 1 Next Aigon fung, while Windfor groves admir’d j Rehearfe, ye mufes, what yourfelves infpir’d. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrain ! Of perjur’d Doris, dying, I complain : Here where the mountains, lefs’ning as they rife, Lofe the low vales, and fleal into the Ikies} While lab’ring oxen, fpent with toil and heat, In their loofe traces from the field retreat; While curling fmokes from village-tops are feen, And the fleet fhades glide o’er the dulky green. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay ! Beneath yon poplar oft we pafs’d the day : Oft on the rind I carv’d her am’rous vows, While {he with garlands hung the bending boughs : The garlands fade, the boughs are worn away j So dies her love, and fo my hopes decay. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful firain ! Now bright Arfturus glads the teeming grain ; Now golden fruits in loaded branches ftiine, And grateful clutters, fwell with floods of wine j T R Y. 23 Now blufhing berries paint the yellow grove : Juft gods ! {hall all things yield return but love ? Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay ! The fhepherds cry, u Thy flocks are left a prey.”—— Ah ! what avails it me the flocks to keep, Who loft my heart, while I preferv’d my fheep ^ Pan came, and alk’d, what magic caus’d my fmart, Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart ? What eyes but hers, alas! have pow’r to move ? And is there magic but what dwells in love ? Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful ftrains ! I’ll fly from ftiepherds, flocks, and flow’ry plains. From fhepherds, flocks, and plains, I may remove, Forfake mankind, and all the world—but love ! I know thee, Love ! wild as the raging main, More fell than tygers on the Libyan plain : Thou wert from ^Etna’s burning entrails torn, Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder born. Refound, ye hills, refound my mournful lay ! Farewel, ye woods, adieu the light of day ! One leap from yonder cliff thall end my pains. No more, ye hills, no more refound my ftrains ! Thus fung the fhepherds till th’ approach of night, The Ikies yet bluthing with departing light, When falling dews with fpangles deck the glade, And the low fun had lengthen’d ev’ry {hade. To thefe paftorals, which are written agreeably to the Gay? tafte of antiquity, and the rules above preferibed, wre fliall beg leave to fubjoin another that may be called burlefque pajloral) wherein the ingenious author, Mr Gay, has ventured to deviate from the beaten road, and deferibed the ftiepherds and ploughmen of our own time and coun¬ try, inftead of thofe of the golden age, to which the modern critics confine the pattoral. His fix paftorals, which he calls the Shepherd's Week, are a beautiful and lively reprefentation of the manners, cuftoms, and notions of our ruftics. We {hall infert the firft of them, intitled The Squabble, wherein two clowns try to outdo each other in finging the praifes of their fweethearts, leaving it to a third to determine the controverfy. The perfons named are Lobbin Clout, Cuddy, and Cloddipole. Paftoral. Lob. Thy younglings, Cuddy, are but juft awake j No throftle Ihrill the bramble-hufti forfake 5 No chirping lark the welkin ftieeft * invokes; * Shining No damfel yet the fwelling udder ftrokes ; ^ bright O’er yonder hill does fcant f the dawn appear ; | Scarce Then why does Cuddy leave his cott fo rear J J Early/ Cud. Ah Lobbin Clout! I ween || my plight is gueft ; II Conceive. - For he that loves, a Jlranger is to rejl. If fwains belye not, thou haft prov’d the fmart, And Blouzalinda’s miftrefs of thy heart. This rifing tear betokeneth well thy mind ; Thofe arms are folded for thy Blouzalind. And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree ; Thee Blouzalinda fmites, B^xoma me. Lob. Ah Blouzalind ! I love thee more by half, Than deer their fawns, or cowrs the new-fall’n calf. Woe worth the tongue, may blifters fore it gall, That names Buxoma Blowzalind withal! Cud. Hold, witlefs Lobbin Clout, I thee advife, Left blifters fore on thy own tongue arife. Lo yonder Cloddipole, the blithlbme fwain, The wifeft lout of all the neighb’ring plain ! From 2 4 POE ^Paflora!. From Cloddipole *»ve learnt to read the Ikies, * jp'or;ncri v. ! ° know wllen hail will Fall, or winds arife. * ’ ’ He taught us erlt * the heifer’s tail to view, When liuck aloft, that fhow’rs would feraight enfu2 : He firft that ufeful lecret did explain, That pricking corns foretold the gathVmg rain. When fwallows ileet foar high and fport in air, He told us that the welkin would be clear. Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearfe, And praife his fvveelheart in alternate verfe. I’ll wager this fame oaken ftaff with thee, T hat Cloddipole flrall give the prize to me. Lob. See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin’d with hair, Made of the fkin of ikekeft fallow-deer : This pouch, that’s tied with tape of reddeih hue, I’ll w'ager, that the prize fhall be my due. Cud. Begin thy carrols, then, thou vaunting flouchj Be thine the oaken ftaff, or mine the pouch. Lob. My Blouzalinda is the blitheft lafs, * Than primrofe fweeter, or the clover-grafs. Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daily that befide her grows; Fair is the gilly-flow’r of gardens fweet 5 Fair is the marygold, for pottage meet : But Blouzalind’s than gilly-flower more fair, i han daify, marygold, or king-cup rare. Cud. My brown Buxoma is the feateft maid That e’er at wrake delightfome gambol play’d •, Clean as young lambkins, or the goofe’s down, And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown. The wdtlefs lamb may fport upon the plain, 1 he frilking kid delight the gaping fwain j I he wanton call may fkip with many a bound, *Nimbleft. And my cur Tray play deftefl * feats around : But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, Dance like Buxoma on tire firft of May. Lob. Sw^eet is my toil w'hen Blouzalind is near; Of her bereft, ’tis winter all the year. With her no fultry fummer’s heat I know ; In winter, w'hen Ihe’s nigh, with love I glow. Come, Blouzalinda, eafe thy fwain’s defire, My fummer’s fhadow, and my winter’s fire ! Cud. As wfith Buxoma once I work’d at hay, E’en noon-tide labour feem’d an holiday 5 And holidays, if haply (he were gone, Like worky-days I wfilh’d would foon be done. I Very foon. ^f001'15 O fweetheart kind, my love repay. And all the year fhall then be holiday. Lob. As Blouzalinda, in a gamefome mood, Behind a hay-cock loudly laughing flood, 1 fifty ran and fnatch’d a hafty kifs ; She wip’d her lips, nor took it much amifs. Believe me, Cuddy, while I’m bold to fay, Her breath was fweeter than the ripen’d hay. Cud. As my Buxoma, in a morning fair, With gentle finger ftroak’d her milky care, § Wag. I quaintly § Hole a kifs; at firft, ’tis true, giftily. She frown’d, yet after granted one or two. Bobbin, I fwear, believe who will my vowts, Her breath by far excell’d the breathing cows. Lob. Leek, to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter’s dear, Of Iriih fwains potatoes are the cheer ; Oats for their feafts the Scottifh fhepherds grind, Sweet turnips are the food of Blouzalind ; T R Y. Part IL While the loves turnips, butter I’ll defpife, Nor leeks, nor oatmeal, nor potatoes prize. Cud. In good roaft beef my landlord flicks his krufe. The capon fat delights his dainty w ife ; Pudding our parfon eats, the fquire loves hare } But white-pot thick is my Buxoma’s fare. While the loves white-pot, capon ne’er fhall be, Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for me. Lob. As once I play’d at blind man’s buff, it hapt About my eyes the towel thick was wrapt : I mifs’d the fwains, and leiz’d on Blouzalind ; True fpeaks that ancient proverb, Love is blind. Cud. As at hot-cockles once I laid me down, And felt the weighty hand of many a clown ; Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I £)uick role, and read foft milchief in her eye. Lob. On two near elms the flacken’d coid I hung j Now high, now low, my Blouzalinda fwung ; With the rude wind her rumpled garment rofe, And fhow’d her taper leg and fcarlet hole. Cud. Acrofs the fallen oak the plank I laid, And myfelf pois’d againft the totl’ring maid ! High leapt the plank, and down Buxoma fell I fpy’d—but faithful fweethearts never tell. Lob. This riddle, Cuddy, if thou canft, explain, This wily riddle puzzles every fwain : Whatflovdr is that which bears the virgin's name, The richejl metaljoined with the fame * l Cud. Anfwer, thou carle, and judge this riddle right, I’ll frankly own thee for a cunning wight : What Jlow'r is that which royal honour craves, Adjoin the virgin, and 'tis frozen on graves f ? Clod. Forbear, contending louts, give o’er your ftrains; An oaken ftaff each merits for his pains. But fee the fun-beams bright to labour warn, And gild the thatch of goodtnan Plodge’s barn. Tour herds for want of water ftand a-dry ; They’re weary of your fongs—and fo am I. Fa flora!. ' —- - y ’ * Marigold. f Rofemary. We have given the rules ufually laid down for pafto- sj^^tone ral writing, and exhibited fome examples written on this plan; but we have to obferve that this poem may take very different forms. It may appear either as a comedy or as a ballad. As a paftoral comedy, there is perhaps nothing which poffefles equal merit with Ramfay’s . Gentle Shepherd, and w7e know not w here to find in any language a rival to the Paforal Ballad of Shenftone. That the excellence of this poem is great can hardly be queftioned, fince it compelled a critic, who was never lavifh of his praife, and who on all occafions was ready to vilify the paftoral, to exprefs himfelf in terms of high encomium. “ In the firft part (fays he) are two paffages, to wdrich if any mind denies its fympathy, it has no acquaintance witli love or nature : I priz’d every hour that wrent by, Beyond all that had pleas’d me before ; But now they are paft, and I figh, And I grieve that I priz’d them no mare. When forc’d the fair nymph to forego, What anguifh I felt in my heart! Yet I thought—but it might not be fo, ’Twas with pain that fire faw me depart. She Z POE She g&fc’d, as I {lowly withdrew, My path I could hardly difcern ; So fweetly die bade me adieu, I thought that (lie bade me return. “ In the fecond (continue* the fame critic) this paffage has its prettinefs, though it be not equal to the for¬ mer I haw found out a gift for my fair ; I have found wdiere the wood-pigeons breed : But let me that plunder forbear, She would fay ’twas a barbarous deed : For he ne’er could be true, dm avert’d, Who could rob a poor bird of its young j And I lov’d her the more when I heard Such tendernefs fall from her tongue. Sect. V. Of DidaElic or Preceptive Poetry* Origin and The method of writing precepts in verfe, and embel- ufeofdi- lidiing them with the graces of poetry, had its rife, we da&icpoe- may fuppofe, from a due confideration of the frailties and ’'■y* perverfenefs of human nature \ and was intended to engage the affedlions, in order to improve the mind and amend the heart. Dida&ic or perceptive poetry, has been ufually em¬ ployed either to illuitrate and explain our moral duties, our philofophical inquiries, our budnefs and pleafures j or in teaching the art of criticifm or poetry itfelf. It may be adapted, however, to any other lubjecl; and may in all cafes, where inftru&ion is defigned, he em¬ ployed to good purpofe. Some fubjedls, indeed, are more proper than others, as they admit of more poe¬ tical ornaments, and give a greater latitude to genius : but whatever the fubjedl is, thole precepts are to be laid dowm that are the moft ufeful } and they fhould follow7 each other in a natural eafy method, and be de¬ livered in the moft agreeable engaging manner. What the profe wuiter tells you ought to be done, the poet often conveys under the form of a narration, or fnow-s the neceflity of in a defeription ; and by reprefenting the adlion as done, or doing, conceals the precept that fhould enforce it. The poet likewife, inftead of tell¬ ing the whole truth, or laying dowm all the rules that are requifite, felecls fuch parts only as are the moft pleafing, and communicates the reft indiredftly, with¬ out giving us an open view of them 5 yet takes care that nothing fhall efcape the reader’s notice with which he ought to be acquainted. He difclofes juft enough to lead the imagination into the parts that are conceal¬ ed ; and the mind, ever gratified with its own difeo- , veries, is complimented wuth exploring and finding them out j which, though done with eafe, feems fo confide- rable, as not to be obtained but in confequence of its own adroitnefs and fagacity. Rule? to be But this is not fufficient to render didadlic poetry al- ©bferved in w7ays pleafing : for where precepts are laid down one af- its compo- ter another? and the poem is of confidcrable length, the *tlon’ mind wall require fome recreation and refreftiment by the way ; wdiich is to be procured by feafonable moral reflec¬ tions, pertinent remarks, familiar fimilies, and deferiptions naturally introduced, by allufions to ancient hiftories or fables, and by ftrort and pleafant digreflions and excur- fions into more noble fubjedls, fo aptly brought in, that they may feem to have a remote relation, and be of a VOL.'XVII. Part I. T R T. *5 piece with the poem. By thus varying the fotm ofin- " ftruclion, the poet gives life to his precepts, and awa- 1 1 kens and fecures our attention, without permitting us to fee by what means we are thus captivated : and his art is the more to be admired, becaufe it is fo concealed as to efcape the reader’s obfervation. The ftyle, too, muft maintain a dignity fuitable to the fubjeft, and every part be drawn in fuch lively colours, that the things delcribed may feem as if prefented to the reader’s view. But all this will appear more evident from example ; and though entire poems of this kind are not within the compafs of our defign, we fhall endeavour 10 feleft fuch paflages as wall be fufticient to illufirate the rules wre have here laid down. We have already obferved, that, according to the ufual divifions, there are four kinds of didactic poems, viz. thofe that refpedl our moral duties, our philofophical {pecula¬ tions, our bufinefs and pleafures, or that give precepts for . poetry and criticifm. I. On the firft fubjeft, indeed, wre have fcarce any thing that deferves the name of poetry, except Mr Pope’s Ejjay on Man, his Ethic Epifiles, Blackmore’s Creation*, and part of Young’s Night Thoughts ; to which there¬ fore we refer as examples. II. Thofe preceptive poems that concern philofophi¬ cal fpeculations, though the fubjedl is fo pregnant with matter, affords fuch a field of fancy, and is fo capable of every decoration, are but few7. Lucretius is the moft confiderable among the ancients who has wTritten in this manner 5 among the moderns we have little elfe but fmall detached pieces, except the poem called Anti-Lu- crctius, which has not yet received an Englifh drefs; Dr Akenfide’s Pleafures of the Imagination, and Dr Darwin’s Botanic Garden ; wkich are all worthy of our admiration. Some of the fmall pieces in this department are alfo well executed j and there is one entitled the Univerfe, written by Mr Baker, from which we {hall borrow7 an example. The author’s fcheme is in fome meafure coincident wuth Mr Pope’s, fo far efpecially as it tends to reftrain the pride of man, with which defign it w7as profelfedly written. The paffage we have feledled is that refpedting the pla¬ netary fyftem. Unwife ! and thoughtlefs ! impotent! and blind I Can wealth, or grandeur, fatisfy the mind ? Of all thofe pleafures mortals moft admire. Is there one joy fincere, that will not tire ? Can love itfelf endure ? or beauty’s charms Afford that blifs wTe fancy in its arms ?— Then let thy foul more glorious aims purfue : Have thy Creator and his works in view7. Be thefe thy ftudy : hence thy pleafures bring: And drink large draughts of wifdom from its fpring $ That fpring, whence perfedl joy, and calm repofe, And bleft content, and peace eternal, flows. Obferve how regular the planets run, In ftated times, their courfes round the Sun. Diff’rent their bulk, their diftance, their career, And diff’rent much the compafs of their year : Yet all the fame eternal law's obey, While God’s unerring finger points the wTay. Firft Mercury, amidft full tides of light, Rolls .next the fun, through his fmall circle bright. D All Part IT. Pafteral. Examples in didatftie poetry. 25 POE Diciaiflic. All that dwell here muft be refin’d and pure : Bodies like ours fuch ardour can’t endure : 'Our earth would blaze beneath fo fierce a ray, And all its marble mountains melt away. ’ Fair Venus, next, fulfils her larger round, With fofter beams, and milder glory crown’d. Friend to mankind, (he glitters from afar, Now the bright ev’ning, now the morning liar. More diilant {till, our earth comes rolling on, And forms a wider circle round the fun : With her the moon, companion ever dear ! Her courfe attending through the ihining year. See, Mars, alone, runs his appointed race, And meafures out, exaft, the deftin’d fpace : Nor nearer does he wind, nor farther ftray, But finds the point whence firft he roll’d away. More yet remote from day’s all cheering fource, Vafl Jupiter performs his conllant courfe: Four friendly moons, with borrow’d luftre, rife, Beftow their beams divine, and light his fkies. Fartheft and laft, fcarce wrarm’d by Phoebus’ ray, Through his vaft orbit Saturn wheels away. How great the change could we be wafted there ! How flow the feafons ! and howr long the year ! One moon, on us, refleils its cheerful light : There, five attendants brighten up the night. Here, the blue firmament bedeck’d with ftars j There, over-head, a lucid arch appears. From hence, how large, howr ftrong, the fun’s bright ball! But feen from thence, how languid and how fmall !— When the keen north with all its fury blows, Congeals the floods, and forms the fleecy fnows, ’Tis heat intenfe to what can there be known : Warmer our poles than is its burning zone. Who there inhabits mufl have other pow’rs, Juices, and veins, and fenfe, and life, than ours. One moment’s cold, like theirs, wTould pierce the bone, Freeze the heart-blood, and turn us all to ftone. Strange and amazing mufl: the diff’rence be ’Twixt this dull planet and bright Mercury : Yet reafon fays, nor can we doubt at all, Millions of beings dwell on either ball, WJth conftitutions fitted for the fpot, Where Providence, all wife, has fix’d their lot. Wondrous art thou, O God, in all thy ways ! Their eyes to thee let all thy creatures raife} Adore thy grandeur, and thy goodnefs praife. Ye fons of men ! with fatisfa&ion knowT, God’s own right hand difpenfes all below : Nor good nor evil does by chance befall He reigns fupreme, and he directs it all. At his command, aftrighting human-kind, Comets drag on their blazing lengths behind : Nor, as wTe think, do they at random rove, But, in determin’d times, through long ellipfes move. And tho’ fometimes they near approach the fun, . Sometimes beyond our fyftem’s orbit run ; Throughout their race they aft their Maker’s will, His pow’r declare, his purpofes fulfil. III. Of thofe preceptive poems that treat of the bufinefs and pleafures of mankind, Virgil’s Georgies claim our firft and principal attention. In thefe he has laid down the rules of hufbandry in all its branches tvith the utmoft exaftnefs and perfpicuity, and at the TRY. Part IT. fame time embellifhed them with all the beauties and Didaftic. graces of poetry. Though his fubjeft was hufbandry,-y— he has delivered his precepts, as Mr Addifon obferves, not with the fimplicity of a ploughman, but with the addrefs of a poet: the meaneft of his rules are laid down wfith a kind of grandeur ; and he breaks the clods, and tojfes about the dung, with an air of graccfulnefs. Of the different ways of conveying the fame truth to the mind, he takes that which is plealanteft 5 and this chief¬ ly diftinguifhes poetry from profe, and renders Virgil’s rules of hufbandry more delightful and valuable than any other. Thefe poems, which are efteemed the moft perfeft of the author’s works, are, perhaps, the belt that can be propofed for the young fludent’s imitation in this man¬ ner of writing j for the whole of his Georgies is wrought up with wonderful art, and decorated with all the flowers of poetry. IV. Of thofe poems which give precepts for the re¬ creations and pleafures of a country life, we have feve- ral in our own language that are juftly admired. As the moft confiderable of thofe diverfions, however, are finely treated by Mr Gay in his Rural Sports, we parti¬ cularly refer to that poem. We fhould here treat of thofe preceptive poems that teach the art of poetry itfelf, of which there are many • that deferve particular attention j but we have antici¬ pated our defign, and rendered any farther notice of them in a manner ufelefs, by the obfervations we have made in the courfe of this treatife. We ought howr- ever to remark, that Horace was the only poet among the ancients who wrote precepts for poetry in verfe at leaft his epiftle to the Pifos is the only piece of the kind that has been handed down to us j and that is fo perfeft, it feems almoft to have precluded the neceflity of any other. Among the moderns we have feveral that are juftly admired ; as Boileau, Pope, &c. Poets who write in the preceptive manner ftiould take care to choofe fuch fubjefts as are worthy of their mufe, and of confequence to all mankind ; for to bellow7 both parts and pains to teach people trifles that are un¬ worthy of their attention, is to the laft degree ridicu¬ lous. Among poems of the ufeful and interefting kind, Dr Armftrong’s Art of Rreferring Health deferves particu¬ lar recommendation, as well in confideration of the fubjeft, as of the elegant and mafterly manner in which he has treated it j for he has made thofe things, wrhich are in their own nature dry and unentertaining, perfect¬ ly agreeable and pleafing, by adhering to the rules ob- ferved by Virgil and others, in the conduft of thefe Poems* 14P With regard to the ftyle or drefs of thefe poems, its proper it fhould be fo rich as to hide the nakednefs of the ftyle. fubjeft, and the barrennefs of the precepts fhould be loft in the luftre of the language. “ It ought to a- Wrarton_ bound in the moft: bold and forcible metaphors, moft glowing and pifturefque epithets j it ought to be elevated and enlivened by pomp of numbers and ma- jefty of wmrds, and by every figure that can lift a lan¬ guage above the vulgar and current expreflio«s.” One may add, that in no kind of poetry (not even in the fublime ode) is beauty of expreflion fo much to be re¬ garded as in this. For the epic writer fhould be very cautious of indulging himfelf in too florid a manner of expreflion, Part II. POE Didadic. expreflion, erpecially in the dramatic parts of his fable, ‘■““''v—— where he introduces dialogue: and the writer of tra¬ gedy cannot fall into fo naufeous and unnatural an af¬ fectation, as to put laboured defcriptions, pompous epi¬ thets, ftudied phrafes, and high-flown metaphors, into the mouths of his characters. But as the didaCtic poet fpeak* in his own perfon, it is neceffary and pro¬ per for him to ufe a brighter colouring of flyle, and to be more ftudious of ornament. And this is agree¬ able to an admirable precept of Ariftotle, which no writer (hould ever forget,—“ That diCtion ought molt to be laboured in the unaCtive, that is, the defcrip- tive, part$ of a poem, in which the opinions, manners, and paflions of men are not reprefented ; for too gla¬ ring an expreflion obfcures the manners and the fenti- ments.” We have already obferved that any thing in nature may be the fubjeCt of this poem. Some things how¬ ever will appear to more advantage than others, as they give a greater latitude to genius, and admit of more poetical ornaments. Natural hiftory and philo- fophy are copious fubjeCls. Precepts in thefe might be decorated with all the flowers in poetry j and, as Dr Trapp obferves, how can poetry be better employ¬ ed, or more agreeably to its nature and dignity, than in celebrating the works of the great Creator, and de- fcribing the nature and generation of animals, vege¬ tables, and minerals j the revolutions of the heavenly bodies; the motions of the earth j the flux and reflux of the fea ; the caufe of thunder, lightning, and other meteors ; the attraction of the magnet, the gravitation, cohefion, and repulfion of matter j the impulfive mo¬ tion of light ; the flow progreflion of founds j and other amazing phenomena of nature ? Mofl; of the arts and fciences are alfo proper fubjeCts for this poem $ and none are more fo than its two After arts, painting and muflc. In the former, particularly, there is room for the moft entertaining precepts concerning the difpofal of colours •, the arrangement of lights and (hades 5 the fecret attraClives of beauty *, the various ideas which make up the one •, the diftinguiftiing between the atti¬ tudes proper to either fex, and every paflion •, the re- prefenting profpe&s of buildings, battles, or the coun¬ try •, and laftly, concerning the nature of imitation, and the power of painting. What a boundlefs fleld of invention is here ? What room for defcription, compa- rifon, and poetical fable ? How eafy the tranfttion, at any time, from the draught to the original, from the fliadow to the fubftance ? and from hence, what noble excurftons may be made into hiftory, into panegyric upon the greateft beauties or heroes of the paft or pre- fent age ? Sect. VI. Of the Epflle. The cha- THIS fpecies of writing, if we are permitted to lay radterof down rules from the examples of our beft poets, admits the rpiftle. of great latitude, and folicits ornament and decoration ; yet the poet is ftill to conAder, that the true character of the epiftle is eafe and elegance j nothing therefore fliould be forced or unnatural, laboured, or affeCled, but every part of the compoAtion {hould breathe an eafy, po¬ lite, and unconftrained freedom. It is fuitable to every fubjeft •, for as the epiftle takes jplaee of difcourfe, and is intended as a fort of diftant T R Y. converfation, all the affairs of life and relearches into na¬ ture may be introduced. Thofe, however, which are fraught with compliment or condolence, that contain a defcription of places, or are full of pertinent remarks, and in a familiar and humorous way defcribe the man- 27 Epiftle. ners, vices, and follies of mankind, are the beft; be caufe they are moft fuitable to the true character of epi- ftolary writing, and (buftnefs fet apart) are the ufual fubjefts upon which our letters are employed. All farther rules and directions are unneceffary ; for this kind of writing is better learned by example and praCtice than by precept. We fliall, therefore, in con¬ formity to our plan, feleCt a few epiftles for the reader’s imitation j which, as this method of writing has of late much prevailed, may be belt taken, perhaps, from our modern poets. The following letter from Mr Addifon to Lord Ha ¬ lifax, contains an elegant defcription of the curioAties and places about Borne, together wdth fuch reflections on the ineftimable bleflings of liberty as muft give plea- fure to every Briton, efpecially when he fees them thus placed in direCt oppofition to the baneful influence of flavery and oppreflion, which are ever to be feen among the miferable inhabitants of thofe countries. While you, my lord, the rural (hades admire, And from Britannia’s public pofts retire, Nor longer, her ungrateful fons to pleafe, For their advantage facrifice your eafa 5 Me into foreign realms my fate conveys, Through nations fruitful of immortal lays, Where the foft feafon and inviting clime Confpire to trouble your repofe with rhime. For wherefoe’er I turn my ravifli’d eyes, Gay gilded feenes and ftiining profpeCts rife, Poetic Adds encompafs me around, And ftill I feem to tread on claflic ground ; For here the mufe fo oft her harp has ftrung, That not a mountain rears its head unfung, Renown’d in verfe each (hady thicket grows, And ev’ry ftream in heav’nly numbers flow’s. How am I pleas’d to fearch the hills and woods For riflng fprings and celebrated floods 5 To view the Nar, tumultuous in his courfe, And tr^ce the fmooth Clitumnus to his fource j To fee the Mincia draw its wat’ry (lore Through the long windings of a fruitful (bore, And hoary Albula’s infeCled tide O’er the w?arm bed of fmoking fulphur glide ! Fir’d with a thoufand raptures, I furvey Eridanus thro’ flowT’ry meadows ftray, The king of floods ! that, rolling o’er the plains, The tow’ring Alps of half their moifture drains, And, proudly fw’oln w’ith a wrhole winter’s fnows, Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows. Sometimes, mifguided by the tuneful throng, I look for dreams immortaliz’d in fong, That loft in Alence and oblivion lie, (Dumb are their fountains and their channels dry) Yet run for ever by the mufe’s (kill, And in the fmooth defcription murmur ftill. Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire, And the fam’d river’s empty (hores adfnire, That, deftitute of (Length, derives its courfe From thirfty unis, and an unfruitful fource j D 2 *5r Examples in epifto- lary poetry from Addi- fon, Yet 38 POE , Epiftle. Yet Tung To often in poetic lays, With fcorn the Danube and the Nile furveys 3 ■So high the deathlefs mufe exalts her theme ! Such was the Boyn, a poor inglorious dream, That in Hibernian vales obfcurely ftray’d, And unoblerv’d in wild meanders play’d ; Till, by your lines, and Naflau’s fw7ord renown’d, Its riling billows through the world refound, Where’er the hero’s godlike afts can pierce, Or where the fame of an immortal verfe. Oh cou’d the mufe my ravilh’d bread infpire With warmth like yours, and raife an equal fire, Unnumber’d beauties in my verfe Ihould diine, And Virgil’s Italy Ihould yield to mine ! See how the golden groves around me fmile, That diun the coads of Britain’s dormy ide, Or when tranfplanted and preferv’d with care, Curfe the cold clime, and darve in northern air. -Here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments To nobler tades, and more exalted fcents: Ev’n the rough rocks with tender myrtles bloom, And trodden weeds fend out a rich perfume. Bear me, fome god, to Baia’s gentle feats, Or cover me in Umbria’s green retreats j Where wredem gales eternally refide, And all the feafons lavilh all their pride : Blolfoms, and fruits, and dow’rs together rife, And the whole year in gay confufion lies. Immortal glories in my mind revive, And in my ioul a thoufand padions drive, W7hen Rome’s exalted'beauties I defcry Magnificent in piles of ruin lie. An amphitheatre’s amazing height Here fills my eye with terror and delight, That on its public {hows unpeopled Rome, And held uncrowded nations in its womb : Here pillars rough with fculpture pierce the Ikies 5 And here the proud triumphal arches rife, Where the old Romans deathlefs afts difplay’d, Their bafe degenerate progeny upbraid : Whole rivers here forfake the fields below, And wond’ring at their height thro’ airy channels dow. Still to new fcenes my wand’ring mufe retires ; And the dumb diow of breathing rocks admires 5 Where the fmooth chiffel all its force has fhown, And foften’d into fielh the rugged done. In folemn filence, a majedic band, Heroes, and gods, and Roman confuls dand, Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, And emperors in Parian marble frown : While the bright dames, to whom they humbly fu’d, Still (how the charms that their proud hearts fubdu’d. Fain would I Raphael’s godlike art rehearfe, And {how th’ immortal labours in my verfe, Where from the mingled drength of drade and light A new creation rifes to my fight, Such heav’nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with life his blended colours glow. From theme to theme with fecret pleafure tod, Amidd the foft variety I’m lod. Here pleafing airs my ravilh’d foul confound With circling notes and labyrinths of found; Here domes and temples rife in didant views, And opening palaces invite my mufe. TRY. PartII. How has kind heav’n adorn’d the happy land, And fcatter’d bleflings with a wadeful hand ! But what avail her unexhauded dores, Her blooming mountains, and her funny fliores, With all the gifts that heav’n and earth impart, The fmiles of nature, and the charms of art, While proud oppreflion in her valleys reigns, And tyranny ufurps her happy plains ? The poor inhabitant beholds in vain The red’ning orange and the fwelling grain : Joylefs he fees the growing oils and wines, And in the myrtle’s fragrant {hade repines: Starves, in the midd of nature’s bounty curd, And in the loaded vineyard dies for third. O liberty, thou goddefs heav’nly bright, Profufe of blifs, and pregnant with delight! Eternal pleafures in thy prefence reign, And finding plenty leads thy wanton train; Eas’d of her load, lubjeftion grows more light, And poverty looks cheerful in thy fight; Thou mak’d the gloomy face of nature gay, Giv’d beauty to the fun, and pleafure to the day. Thee, goddefs, thee, Britannia’s ifle adores j How has die oft exhauded all her dores, How oft in fields of death thy prefence fought, Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought I On foreign mountain may the fun refine The grape’s foft juice, and mellow it to wine, With citron groves adorn a didant foil, And the fat olive fwell with floods of oil: We envy not the warmer clime, that lies In ten degrees of more indulgent Ikies, Nor at the coarfenefs of our heav’n repine, Tho’ o’er our heads the frozen Pleiads flrine : ’Tis liberty that crowns Britannia’s ifle, [{__, And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains Others with tow’ring piles may pleafe the fight, And in their proud afpiring domes delight j A nicer touch to the dretch’d canvas give, Or teach their animated rocks to live : ’Tis Britain’s care to watch o’er Europe’s fate, And hold in balance each contending date, To threaten bold prefumptuous kings with war, And anfwer her afflifted neighbour’s pray’r. I ne Dane and Swede, rous’d up by fierce alarms, Blefs the wife conduft of her pious arms : Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors ceafe, And all the northern world lies hufli’d in peace. lh’ambitious Gaul beholds with fecret dread Her thunder aim’d at his afpiring head, And fain her godlike fons would difunite By foreign gold, or by domedic fpite; But drives in vain to conquer or divide, Whom Naflau’s arms defend and counfels guide. Fir’d with the name, which I fo oft have found The didant climes and diff’rent tongues refound, I bridle in my draggling mufe with pain, That longs to launch into a bolder drain. But I’ve already troubled you too long, Nor dare attempt a more advent’rous fong : My humble verfe demands a fofter theme, A painted meadow, or a purling dream 5 Unfit for heroes *, whom immortal lays, And lines like Virgil’s, or like yours, Ihould praife. Therg Part IL POE Epiftle. There is a fine fpirlt of freedom, and love of liberty, difplayed in the following letter from Lord Lyttleton to Mr Pope } and the meffage from the fhade of Virgil, which is truly poetical, and juftly preceptive, may prove an ufeful leffon to future bards. From Rome, I73°* I5'1 Immortal bard ! for -whom each mufe has wove Xyttieton, £ajrefl. garlan(is 0f the Aonian grove •, Preferv’d, our drooping genius to reftore, When Addifon and Congreve are no more ; After fo many liars extinft in night, The darken’d age’s laft remaining light ! To thee from Latian realms this verfe is writ, Infpir’d by memory of ancient wit: For now no more thefe climes their influence boaft, Fall’n is their glory, and their virtue loft *, From tyrants, and from, priefts, the mufes fly, Daughters of reafon and of liberty. Nor Baiae now nor Umbria’s plain they love, Nor on the banks of Nar or Mincia rove j To Thames’s flow’ry borders they retire, And kindle in thy breaft the Roman fire. So in the fhades, where cheer’d with fummer rays Melodious linnets warbled fprightly lays, Soon as the faded, falling leaves complain Of gloomy winter’s inaufpicious reign, No tuneful voice is heard of joy or love, But mournful filence faddens all the grove. Unhappy Italy ! wdiofe alter’d ftate Has felt the worft feverity of fate : Not that barbarian hands her fafces broke, And bow’d her haughty neck beneath their yoke j Nor that her palaces to earth are thrown, Her cities defert, and her fields unfown j But that her ancient fpirit is decay’d, That facred wifdom from her bounds is fled, That there the fource of fcience flows no more, Whence its rich ftreams fupply’d the world before. Uluftrious names ! that once in Latium ftiin’d, Born to inftruft and to command mankind j Chiefs, by whofe virtue mighty Rome was rais’d, And poets, who thofe chiefs fublimely prais’d ! Oft I the traces you have left explore, Your allies vilit, and your urns adore ; Oft kifs, with lips devout, fome mould’ring ftone, With ivy’s venerable (hade o’ergrown ; Thofe hallow’d ruins better pleas’d to fee, Than all the pomp of modern luxury. As late on Virgil’s tomb frefh flow’rs I ftrow’d, While with th’ infpiring mufe my bofom glow’d, Crowm’d with eternal bays, my ravifh’d eyes Beheld the poet’s aivful form arife: Stranger, he faid, wdiofe pious hand has paid Thefe grateful rites to my attentive (hade, When thou (halt breathe thy happy native air, To Pope this meffage from his mafter bear.. Great bard, wdiofe numbers I myfelf infpire, To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre, If high exalted on the throne of wit, Near me and Homer thou afpire to fit, No more let meaner fatire dim the rays That flow majeftic from thy noble bays. In all the flow’ry paths of Pindus ftray : But fhun that thorny, that unpleafing way 3 TRY. 29. Nor, when each foft engaging mufe is thine, , EPlftIe- t Addrefs the leaft attractive of the nine. ¥ Of thee, more worthy were the talk to raife A lafting column to thy country’s praife, To fing the land, which yet alone can boaft; That liberty corrupted Rome has loft 3 Where fcience in the arms of peace is laid, And plants her palm beneath the olive’s lhade. Such was the theme for which my lyre I ftrung, Such was the people whofe exploits I fung 3 Brave, yet refin’d, for arms and arts renown’d, With diff’rent bays by Mars and Phoebus crown’d, • Dauntlefs oppofers of tyrannic fway, But pleas’d a mild Augustus to obey. If thefe commands fubmiflive thou receive, Immortal and unblam’d thy name lhall live 3 Envy to black Cocytus lhall retire,! And howd with furies in tormenting fire 3 Approving time lhall confecrate thy lays, And join the patriot’s to the poet’s praife. The following letter from Mr Philips to the earl of Dorfet is entirely defcriptive 3 but is one of thofe de- fcriptions wdiich will be ever read with delight. Copenhagen, March 9. 1709. ^ From frozen climes, and endlefs traCls of fnow, Philips, From ftreams which northern winds forbid to flow, and What prefent lhall the mufe to Dorfet bring, Or how, fo near the pole, attempt to ling ? The hoary winter here conceals from fight All pleafing objeCts which to verfe invite. The hills and dales, and the delightful woods, The flow’ry plains, and filver-ftreaming floods, By fnow difguis’d, in bright confufion lie, And with one dazzling wafte fatigue the eye. No gentle breathing breeze prepares the fpring, No birds within the defert region fing : The Ihips, unmov’d, the boift’rous winds defy, While rattling chariots o’er the ocean fly. The vaft Leviathan wants room to play, And fpout his waters in the face of day : The ftarving wolves along the main fea fprowl, And tb the moon in icy valleys howl. O’er many a Ihining league the level main Here fpreads itfelf into a glaffy plain : There folid billows of enormous fize, Alps of green ice, in wild diforder rife. And yet but lately have I feen, ev’n here, The winter in a lovely drefs appear. 1 Ere yet the clouds let fall the treafur’d fnow, . Or winds began through hazy Ikies to blow, At ev’ning a keen eaftern breeze arofe, And the ddcending rain unfully’d froze 3 Soon as the filent (hades of night withdrew, The ruddy morn difclos’d at once to view The face of nature in a rich difguife, And brighten’d ev’ry objeft to my eyes : : For ev’ry fhrub, and ev’ry blade of grafs, And ev’ry pointed thorn, feem’d wrought in glafs 3 In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns (how, While through the ice the crimfon berries glow. The thick fprung reeds, which watery marfhes yield, Seem’d polfth’d lances in a hoftile field. The (tag in limpid currents with furprife, Sees cryftal branches on his forehead rife ; The c So P O E , The fpreading oak, the beech, and tow’ring pine, Glaz’d over, in the freezing jcther fliine. The frighted birds the rattling branches fliun, Which wave and glitter in the diltant fuji. When if a hidden gull of wind arife, The brittle foreft into atoms flies, The crackling wood beneath the temped bends, And in a fpangled Ihower the profpeft ends: Or, if a fouthern gale the region warm, And by degrees unbend the wint’ry charm, The traveller a miry country fees, And journeys fad beneath the dropping trees : Like fome deluded peafant Merlin leads Thro’ fragant bow’rs and thro’ delicious meads, While here enchanted gardens to him rife, And airy fabrics there attract his eyes, His wandering feet the magic paths purfue, And while he thinks the fair illufion true, The tracklefs fcenes difperfe in fluid air, And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways appear $ A tedious road the weary wretch returns, And, as he goes, the tranlient vilion mourns. The great ufe of medals is properly defcribed in the enfuing elegant epiftle from Mr Pope to Mr Addifon j and the extravagant paflion which fome people enter¬ tain only for the colour of them, is very agreeably and very jullly ridiculed. Pope.^ See the wild wafte of all devouring years ! How Rome her own fad fepulchre appears ! With nodding arches, broken temples fpread ! The very tombs now vanifli like their dead ! Imperial wonders rais’d on nations fpoil’d, Where mix’d with flaves the groaning martyr toil’d ! Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods, Now drain’d a diftant country of her floods ! Fanes, which admiring gods with pride furvey, Statues of men, fcarce lefs alive than they ! Some felt the lilent ftroke of mould’ring age, Some hoftile fury, fome religious rage $ Barbarian blindnefs, Chriftian zeal confpire, And papal piety, and Gothic fire. Perhaps, by its own ruin fav’d from flame, Some bury’d marble half preferves a name : That name the learn’d with fierce difputes purfue, And give to Titus old Vefpafian’s due. Ambition figh’d : She found it vain to truft The faithlefs column and the crumbling buft j Huge moles, whofe lhadow ftretch’d from fliore to (bore, Their ruins perifli’d, and their place no more $ Convinc’d, {he, now contrafts her vaft defign, And all her triumphs {brink into a coin. A narrow orb each crowded conqueft keeps, Beneath her palm here fad Judaea weeps j Now fcantier limits the proud arch confine, And fcarce are feen the proftrate Nile or Rhine ; A fmall Euphrates through the piece is roll’d, And little eagles wave their wings in gold. The medal, faithful to its charge of fame, Through climes and ages bears each form and name : In one fliort view fubjefted to our eye, Gods, emp’rors, heroes, fages, beauties, lie. With Iharpen’d fight pale antiquaries pore, Th’ infcription value, but the ruft adore. T R Y. This the blue varnifli, that the green endears. The facred rufl: of twice ten hundred years : To gain Pefcennius one employs his fchemes, One grafps a Cecrops in ecftatic dreams. Poor Vadius, long with learned fpleen devour’d, Can tafte no plealure fince his ftiield was fcour’d : And Curio, reft lefs by the fair one’s fide, Sighs for an Otho, and negle&s his bride. Their’s is the vanity, the learning thine: Touch’d by thy hand, again Rome’s glories lliine ^ Her gods and god-like heroes rife to view. And all her faded garlands bloom anew. Nor blufti thefe ftudies thy regard engage j 1 hefe pleas’d the fathers of poetic rage j The verfe and fculpture bore an equal part, And art refledled images to art. Oh when {hall Britain, confcious of her claim, Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame ? In living medals fee her wars enroll’d, And vanquifli’d realms fupply recording gold ? Here, riling bold, the patriot’s honeft face j There, warriors frowning in hiftoric brafs ? Then future ages with delight {hall fee How Plato’s, Bacon’s, Newton’s, looks agree j Or in fair feries laurell’d bards be ftiown, A Virgil there, and here an Addifon. Then {hall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine) On the call: ore, another Pollio ftiine j With afpeft open lhall eredl his head, And round the orb in lafting notes be read, “ Statefman, yet friend to truth ! of foul fincere, “ In adftion faithful, and in honour clear j “ Who broke no promife, ferv’d no private end, “ Who gain’d no title, and who loft no friend $ “ Ennobled by himfelf, by all approv’d, “ Prais’d, wept, and honour’d, by the mufe he lov’d.” We have already obferved, that the effential, and indeed the true chara&eriftic of epiftolary writing, is eafe j and on this account, as well as others, the fol¬ lowing letter from Mr Pope to Mifs Blount is to be ad¬ mired. To Mifs BLOUNT, on her leaving the Town after the Coronation. As fome fond virgin, whom her mother’s care Drags from the town to wholefome country air \ Juft when {he learns to roll a melting eye, And hear a fpark, yet think no danger nigh $ From the dear man unwilling {lie muft fever, Yet takes one kifs before {he parts for ever •, Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew, Saw others happy, and with fighs withdrew : Not that their pleafures caus’d her difcontent j-1 She figh’d, not that they flay’d, but that ftie went. She went, to plain-w’ork, and to purling brooks, Old-faftiion’d halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks : She went from op’ra, park, aflembly, play, To morning-walks, and pray’rs three hours a-day j To part her time ’twixt reading and bohea, To mufe, and fpill her folitary tea, Or o’er cold coffee trifle with the fpoon, Count the flow clock, and dine exa£l at noon; Divert Part II. F.nifHe. 4 Part II. POE Epiftle. Divert tier eyes with pi&ures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell ftories to the ’fquire 3 Up to her godly garret after feven, There ftarve and pray, for that’s the way to heav’n. Some ’fquire, perhaps, you take delight to rack 3 Whofe game is whilk, whofe treat’s a toaft in fack 3 Who vifits with a gun, prefents you birds, Then gives a fmacking bufs, and cries,—no words! Or with his hound comes hollowing from the liable, Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table 3 Whofe laughs are hearty, tho’ his jells are coarfe, And loves you bell of all things—but his horfe. In fome fair ev’ning, on your elbow" laid, You dream of triumphs in the rural (hade 3 In penfive thought recal the fancy’d fcene, See coronations rife on every green 3 Before you pals th’ imaginary lights Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter’d knights, While the fpread fan o’erlhades your doling eyes: Then give one flirt, and all the vilion flies. Thus vanilh fceptres, coronets, and balls, And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! So when your Have, at fome dear idle time, (Not plagu’d w’ith headachs, or the want of rhyme) Stands in the lireets, abllrafted from the crewr, And while he feems to lludy, thinks of you 3 Juft wdien his fancy points your fprightly eyes, Or fees the blufli of foft Parthenia rife, Gay pats my Ihoulder, and you vanilh quite, Streets, chairs, and coxcombs, ruflr upon my light 3 Vex’d to be Hill in town, I knit my brow, Look four, and hum a tune, as you may now. Sect. VII. Of Defcriptive Poetry. Defcriptive Descriptive poetry is of univerfal ufe, lince there poetry. is nothing in nature but W'hat may be defcribed. As poems of this kind, however, are intended more to de¬ light than to inftruft, great care Ihould be taken to make them agreeable. Defcriptive poems are made beautiful by limilies properly introduced, images of feigned perfons, and allufions to ancient fables or hifto- rical fads 3 as will appear by a perufal of the bell of thefe poems, efpecially Milton’s 1?Allegro and // Penfe- rofo, Denham’s Cooper Hill, and Pope’s Windfor Fore/l. Every body being in poffeflion of Milton’s w^orks, wre forbear inferting Jthe two former 5 and the others are too long for our purpofe, That inimitable poem, The Seafons, by Mr Thomfon, notwithftanding fome parts of it are didadlic, may be alfo with propriety referred to this head. Sect. VIII. Of Allegorical Poetry. 156 Origin of Could truth engage the affeflions of mankind in allegorical her native and Ample drefs, Ihe would require no orna- poetry. ments or aid from the imagination 3 but her delicate light, though lovely in itfelf, and dear to the moll dif- cerning, does not llrike the fenfes of the multitude fo as to fecure their efteem and attention : the poets there- fibre drefled her up in the manner in which they thought Ihe would appear the moll amiable, and called in alle¬ gories and airy difguifes as her auxiliaries in the caufe of virtue. An allegory is a fable or ftory, in which, under the TRY. 31 difguife of imaginary perfons or things, Ibrne real a£lion Allegorical-, or inftru£live moral is conveyed to the mind. Every '* allegory therefore has tw"o fenfes, the one literal and the other myftical 3 the firft has been aptly enough com¬ pared to a dream or vifion, of which the laft is the true meaning or interpretation. 157 From this definition of allegorical poetry the reader Its charae* will perceive t)iat it gives great latitude to genius, andter- affords fuch a boundlefs fcope for invention, that the poet is allowed to foar beyond all creation ; to give life and adlion to virtues, vices, paflions, difeafes, and natural and moral qualities 3 to raife floating iflands, enchanted palaces, cattles, &c. and to people them with the crea¬ tures of his owrn imagination. The poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heav’n to earth, from earth to heav’n3 And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen Turns them to thape, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Shakespeare. But wdiatever is thus raifed by the magic of his mind muft be vifionary and typical, and the myftical fenfe muft appear obvious to the reader, and inculcate fome moral or ufeful leffon in life 3 otherwife the W’hole wrill be deemed rather the effefts of a diftempered brain, than the produftions of real wit and genius. The poet, like Jafon, may fail to parts unexplored, but wall meet with no applaufe if he returns without a golden fleece 3 for thefe romantic reveries would be unpardonable but for the myftical meaning and moral that is thus artfully and agreeably conveyed with tbcm, and on which account only the allegory is indulged wath a greater liberty than any other fort of writing. The ancients juftly confidered this fort of allegory as the moft effential part of poetry 3 for the powTer of rai¬ ling images of things not in being, giving them a fort of life and aftion, and prefenting them as it were before the eyes, w^as thought to have fomething in it like cre¬ ation : but then, in fuch compolitions, they always ex- pefted to find a meaning couched under them of confe- quence 3 and we may reafonably conclude, that the al¬ legories of their poets wTould never have been handed dowm to us, had they been deficient in this refpeft. I5S As the fable is the part immediately offered to the Efienti^k reader’s confideration, and intended as an agreeable ve-of a juft hide to convey the moral, it ought to be bold, lively, and furpriilng, that it may excite curiofity and fupport attention 5 for if the fable be fpiritlefs and barren of in¬ vention, the attention will be difengaged, and the mo¬ ral, however ufeful and important in itfelf, will be little regarded. There muft likewife be a juftnefs and propriety in the fable, that is, it muft be clofely connected with the fubjed on which it is employed 3 for notwithftanding the boundlefs compafs allowed the imagination in thefe writings, nothing abfurd or ufelefs is to be introduced. In epic poetry fome things may perhaps be admitted for no other reafon but to furprife, and to raife what is called the wonderful, which is as neceffary to the epic as the probable ; but in allegories, however wild and ex¬ travagant the fable and the perfons introduced, each muft: correfpond with the fubjeft they are applied to, and, like the members of a well-written fimile, bear a due proportion and relation to each other ; for we are to- '.•52 P 0 E Allegorical, to'cotifider, tli^t tlie allegory is a fort of extended or ' v" rather multiplied fimile, and therefore, like that, Ihould aiever lofe the fubjeft it is intended to illullrate. Whence it will appear, that genius and fancy are here infufficient •without the aid of taile and judgement: thefe firft, in¬ deed, may produce a multitude of ornaments, a wilder- nefs of tweets ; but the laft muff be employed to accom¬ modate them to reafon, and to arrange them fo as to produce pleatiire and profit. But it is not fufiicient that the fable be correfpondent with the fubjetf, and have the properties above defen¬ ded 5 for it mutt alfo be confiftent with itfelf. The poet rnay invent what flory he pleafes, and form any imaginary beings that his fancy fliall fuggelt ; but here, as in dramatic writings, when perfons are once intro¬ duced, they muff be fupported to the end, and all fpeak and a6t in charadter : for notwithtfanding the general licence here allowed, fome order mutt be obferved j and however wild and extravagant the characters, they thould not be abfurd. To this let me add, that the whole muft be clear and intelligible ; for the “ fable (as Mr Hughes obferves) being defigned only to clothe and adorn the moral, but not to hide it, fhould re¬ ferable the draperies wre admire in fome of the ancient ftatues, in which the folds are not too many nor too thick, but fo judicioufly ordered, that the fhape and beauty of the limbs may be feen through them.”— But this will more obvioufly appear from a perufal of the belt compofitions of this clafs ; fuch as Spenfer’s Fairy Queen, Thomfon’s Caftle of Indolence, Addifon and Johnfon’s beautiful allegories in the Spectator and Rambler, &c. &c. Th e word allegory has been ufed in a more extenfive fenfe than that in which we have here applied it : for all writings, where the moral is conveyed under the co¬ ver of borrowed charadters and adtions, by which other charadters and adtions (that are real) are reprefenled, have obtained the name of allegories ; though the fable or flory contains nothing that is vifionary or romantic, but is made up of real or hiftorical perfons, and of ac¬ tions either probable or pofiible. But thefe writings fhould undoubtedly be diflinguilhed by fome other name, becaufe the literal fenfe is confiftent with right reafon, and may convey an ufeful moral, and fatisfy the reader, without putting him under the neceflity of feeking for another. Some of the ancient critics, as Mr Addifon obferves, were fond of giving the works of their poets this fecond or concealed meaning, though there was no apparent neceflity for the attempt, and often but little Ihow7 of reafon in the application. Thus the Iliad and Odyfley of Homer are fald to be fables of this kind, and that the gods and heroes introduced are only the affedlions of the mind reprefenled in a vifible fhape and character. They tell us, fays he, that Achilles in the firft Iliad reprefents anger, or the irafcible part of human nature : that upon drawing his fword againft his fuperior, in a full affembly, Pallas (wrhich, fay they, is another name for reafon) checks and advifes him on the occafion, and at her firft appearance touches him upon the head ; that part of the man being looked upon as the feat of reafon. In this fenfe, as Mr Hughes has well obferved, the whole TEneis of Virgil may be faid to be an allegory, if you fuppofe Afneas to reprefent Auguftus Caefar, and that his conducting the remains of his countrymen 3 T R Y. Part II, from the ruins of Troy, to a new fettlement in Italy,- is vuegoncah an emblem of Auguitus’s forming a new government ——y~”1 ,i“‘ out of the ruins of the ariftocracy, and eltabliihing the Romans, alter the confufion of the civil war, in a peaceable and flourithing condition. However ingeni¬ ous this coincidence may appear, and whatever defign Virgil had in view, he has avoided a particular and di- red application, and fo conduced his poem, that it is per- feCt without any allegorical interpretation 5 for whether we confider iEneas or Auguftus as the hero, the morals contained are equally inftruCHve. And indeed it fetms abfurd to fuppofe, that becaufe the epic poets have in¬ troduced fome allegories into their works, every thing is to be underftood in a myftical manner, where the fenfe is plain and evident without any fuch application. Nor is the attempt that Taffo made to turn his Jeru- falem into a myftery, any particular recommendation of the work : for notwithftanding he tells us, in what is called the allegory, printed with it, that the Chriftian army reprefents man, the city of Jerufalem civil happi- nefs, Godfry the underftanding, Rinaldo and Tancred the other powers of the foul, and that the body is ty¬ pified by the common foldiers and the like ; yet the reader will find himfelf as little delighted as edified by the explication : for the mind has little pleafure in an allegory that cannot be opened without a key made by the hand of the fame artift j and indeed every allegory that is fo dark, and, as it were, inexplicable, lofes its very effence, and becomes an enigma or riddle, that is left to be interpreted by every crude imagination. This laft fpecies of writing, whether called an alle- ThJancientL gory, or by any other name, is not lefs eminent and parable, ufeful 5 for the introducing of real or hiftorical perfons may not abridge or lefien either our entertainment or inftruftion. In thefe compofitions we often meet with an uncommon moral conveyed by the fable in a new and entertaining manner ; or with a known truth fo artfully decorated, and placed in fuch a new and beau¬ tiful light, that we are amazed how any thing fo charm¬ ing and ufeful Ihould fo long have efcaped our obfer- vation. Such, for example, are many of Johnfon’s pieces publifhed in the Rambler under the title of Eajlern Stories, and by Hawkefworth in the Adven¬ turer. The ancient parables are of this fpecies of writing: and it is to be obferved, that thofe in the New Tefta- ment have a moft remarkable ejegance and propriety j and are the moft ftriking, and the moft inftrudlive, for being drawn from objects that are familiar.—The more ftriking, becaufe, as the things are feen, the moral con¬ veyed becomes the objedt of our fenfes, and requires lit¬ tle or no refledlion :—the more inftruftive, becaufe every time they are feen, the memory is awakened, and the fame moral is again exhibited with pleafure to the mind, and accuftoms it to reafon and dwell on the fubjedl. So that this method of inftrudtion improves nature, as it were, in¬ to a book of life } fince every thing before us may be fo managed, as to give leffbns for our advantage. Our Sa¬ viour’s parables of the fower and the feed, of the tares, of the muftard-feed, and of the leaven (Matthew xiii.), are all of this kind, and were obvioufly taken from the harveft ju t ripening before him •, for his difciplespinch¬ ed the ears ofcorn and did eat, rubbing them w their hands. See the articles Allegory, and Metaphor in the general alphabet. Sect. Part II. POET K Of Fables. x6o The apo¬ logue or fable. Sect. IX. Of Fables. x6i Rules fi>r its con- ftrudlion. Js1 o method of inftruftion has been move ancient, more univerfal, and probably none more effedhial, than that by apologue or fable. In the firlt ages, amongft a rude and fierce people, this perhaps was the only method that would have been borne j and even fince the progrefs of learning has furnilhed other helps, the fable, which at firlf was ufed through neceflity, is retained from choice, on account of the elegant happinefs of its manner, and the refined ad- dreis with which, when well conducted, it infinuates its moral. As to the a&ors in this little drama, the fabulift has authority to prefs into his fervice every kind of exift- ence under heaven ; not only beafts, birds, infers, and all the animal creation ; but flowers, Ihrubs, trees, and all the tribe of vegetables. Even mountains, foflils, mi¬ nerals, and the inanimate works of nature, difcourfe ar¬ ticulately at his command, and aft the part which he afligns them. The virtues, vices, and every property of beings, receive from him a local habitation and a name. _ In ftiort, he may perfonify, bellow life, fpeech, and aftion, on whatever he thinks proper. It is ealy to imagine what a fource of novelty and variety this mult open to a genius capable of concei¬ ving and ol employing thefe ideal perfons in a proper manner; what an opportunity it affords him to diver- fify his images, and to treat the fancy with chancres of objefts, while he ftrengthens the underltanding, or regulates the paflions, by a fucceflion of truths. To raile beings like thefe into a Hate of aftion and intel¬ ligence, gives the fabulilt an undoubted claim to that firlt charafter of the poet, a creator. When thefe perfons are once raifed, we mult care¬ fully enjoin them proper talks, and aflign them fenti- ments and language fuitable to their feveral natures and refpeftive properties. A raven Ihould not be ex¬ tolled for her voice, nor a bear be reprefented with an elegant lhape. It were a very obvious inltance of ab- lurdity, to paint a hare cruel, or a wolf compaflion- ate. An afs were but ill qualified to be general of an army, though he may well enough ferve, perhaps, tor one of the trumpeters. But fo long as popular opinion allows to the lion magnanimity, rage to the tiger, ftrength to the mule, cunning to the fox, and buffoonery to the monkey j why may not they fupport the charafters of an Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax, Ulvf- ies, and Iherfites? The truth is, when moral aftions are with judgement attributed to the brute creation, we fcarce perceive that nature is at all violated by the fabu- blf. He appears at moft to have only tranflated their language. His lions, wolves, and foxes, behave and ar- gue as thofe creatures would, had they originally been endowed with the human faculties of fpeech and rea- lon. . B.ut greater art is yet required whenever we perfonify inanimate beings. Here the copy fo far deviates from the great lines of nature, that, without the niceft care realon will revolt again!! the fiftion. However, beings’ of this fort, managed ingenioufly and with addrefs re¬ commend the fabulift’s invention by the grace of no¬ velty and of variety. Indeed the analogy between things natural and artificial, animate and inanimate, is often fo very finking that we can, with feeming propriety, give Vol. XVII. Part I. o i i j, & 3. paflions and fentiments to every individual part of exift- Of Fables ence. Appearance favours the deception, 'i he vine may be enamoured of the elm; her embraces teftify her paf- fion. 1 he fwelling mountain may, naturally enough, be delivered of a moufe. The gourd may reproach the pine, and the fky-rocket infult the ftars. The axe may folicit a new handle of the foreft 5 and the moon, in her female charafter, requeft a fafliionable garment. Here is nothing incongruous 5 nothing that flmcks the reader with impro¬ priety. On the other hand, were the axe to defire a* pe¬ riwig, and the moon petition for a new pair of boots, pro¬ bability would then be violated, and the abfurdity become too glaring. I he molt beautiful fables that ever w'ere invented may be disfigured by the language in which they are clothed Or this poor Vfcdop, m fome of his Englifir drefles. affords lg2 a melancholy proof. The ordinary ftyle of fable fliould The ^r0' be familiar, but alfo elegant. ‘ ‘ d Per ftyIc The familiar fays Mr U Motte, is the general tone 0' or accent of fable, ft was thought fufficient, on its tint appearance, to lend the animals, our moft common lan¬ guage. Nor indeed have they any extraordinary preten- fions to the fublime ; it being requifite they Ihould fpeak with the fame fimphcity that they behave. t 1 he familiar a To is more proper for infmuation than the elevated ; this being the language of refleftion, as the former is the voice of fentiment. We guard ourfelves againlt the one, but lie open to the other : and inftruftion will always the moft efFeftually fwav vilegls ^ aPPearS 16311 jeal°US °f ltS r'Shts a»d Pri~ The familiar ftyle, however, that is here required, notwithftandmg that appearance of eafe which is its charafter, is perhaps more difficult to write than the more elevated or fublime. A writer more readily per¬ ceives when he has rifen above the common language e ipeuaking this la^ge, withe; he has made the choice that is moft fuitable to the oc- fuf.0",; ,a"d J1 IS “Y«tWers, upon this happy choice that all the charms of the familiar depend. Moreover not thTb ft b f and fedUCeS’ although it be not the beft chofen ; whereas the familiar can procure Melf no fort of refpeft, if it be not eafy, natural juft delicate, and unaffefted. A fabulift muff tliereforeJ be- iZnrhTttentl°n uP°n- hiS and even labour it no pains ^ ^ to -ft him The authority of Fontaine juftifies thefe opinions in regard to ftyle. His fables are perhaps the beft ex- amples of the genteel familiar, as Sir Roger I’Eftrange affords the grofleft of the indelicate and low. WhL we read, that “ while the frog and the moufe were dift puling it at fwords-point, down comes a kite powder¬ ing upon them m the interim, and gobbets up both to¬ gether to part the fray - and “ wh^the fox reproaches abevy of jolly goffipping wenches makina merry over a difh of pullets, that if he but peeped into a hen rooft they always made a bawling with their dogs and their baftards j while you yourfelves (fays he) can fie fluffing If tl gUt!JUh hCnS and CaP°ns’ and not a word of the pudding. I his may be familiar ; but it is alio coarfe and vulgar, and cannot fail to difguft a reader that has the leaft degree of tafte or delicacy an/ ft mnft H ^ ^ be and famniar i a id it muff hkewife be correft and elegant. By the B former. 34 POE Of Fables, former, ive mean, that it fhould not be loaded with ~~y—_/ £^ure an(j metaphor j that the difpofition of words be natural, the turn of fentences eafy, and their conftruction imembarralfed. By elegance, we would exclude all coarfe and provincial terms *, all alleged and puerile conceits } all obfblete and pedantic phrafes. To this we would ad¬ join, as the word perhaps implies, a certain finifhing po- lifh, which gives a grace and fpirit to the whole} and W'hich, though it have always the appearance of nature, is almoft ever the effeft cf art. But notwithftanding all that has been faid, there are feme occafions on which it is allowable, and even expe¬ dient, to change the ftyle. The language of a fable mull rife or fall in conformity to the fubjeft. A lion, when in¬ troduced in his regal capacity, mult hold difeourfe in a ftrain fomewhat more elevated than a country-moufe. The liond’s then becomes his queen, and the beafls of the fordl are called his fubjects j a method that offers at once to the imagination both the animal and the perfon he is defigned to reprefent. Again, the buffoon-monkey fhould avoid that pomp of phrafe, which the owl employs as her bdf pretence to wifdom. Unlefs the ftyle be thus judicioufty varied, it will be impoffible to preferve a juft diftindion of charader. Defcriptions, at once concife and pertinent, add a grace to fable } but are then moft happy when inclu¬ ded in the adion : whereof the fable of Boreas and the Sun affords us an example. An epithet well chofen is often a defeription in itfelf • and fo much the more agree¬ able, as it the lefs retards us in our purfoit of the cata- ftrophe. Laftly, little ftrokes of humour when arifing natu¬ rally from the fubjed, and incidental refledions when kept in due fubordination to the principal, add a value to thefe cornpofitions. Thefe latter, however, ftiould be employed very fparingly, and with great addrefs •, be very few, and very fhort : it is fcarceiy enough that they naturally fpring out of the fubjed 5 they fhould be fuch as to appear neceffary and effential parts of the fable. And when thefe embellifhments, pleafing in fhemfelves, tend to illuftrate the main adion, they then afford that namelefs grace remarkable in Fontaine and feme few others, and which perfons of the heft difeernment will more eafdy conceive than they can ex¬ plain. Sect. X. Of Satire. 163 This Lind of poem is of very ancient date, and (if Origin of we believe Horace j was introduced, by way of inter- fatire. ^ ^ Greek dramatic poets in their tragedies, to relieve the audience, and take off the force of thofe ftrokes which they thought too deep and affecting. In thefe fatirical interludes, the feene was laid in the coun¬ try ; and the perfons were rural deities, fatyrs, country peafants, and other ruftics. The firft Tragedians found thfet ferious ftyle Too grave for their uncultivated age, And fo brought wild and naked fatyrs in (Whofe motion, words, and fhape, were all a farce) As oft as decency would give them leave j Beoaufe the mad, ungovernable rout, Full of confufion and the fumes of wine, Lov’d fuch variety and antic tricks. * RascoMMQtsr's Horace. T R Y. Fait II. The fatire we now have is generally allowed to be of Of Satire. Roman invention. It was firft introduced without the decorations of feenes and action j but written in verfes of different ineafures by Ennius, and afterwards moulded into the form we now have it by Lucilius, whom Ho¬ race has imitated, and mentions with elteem. This is the opinion of moft of the critics, and particularly of Boileau, who fays, Lucilius led the way, and bravely bold, To Roman vices did the mirror hold ; Protected humble goodnefs from reproach, Show’d worth on foot, and rafeals in a coach. Horace his pleafing wit to this did add, 'I. hat none, uncenfur’d might be fools or mad : And Juvenal, with rhetorician’s rage, Scourg’d the rank vices of a wicked age j Tho’ horrid truths thro’ all his labours fbine. In what he writes there’s fomething of divine. Our fatire, therefore, may be diftinguiftied into twe kinds ; the jocofe, or that which makes iport with vice and folly, and fels them up to ridicule 5 and the ferious ^ or that which deals in afperity, and is fevere and acri¬ monious. Horace is a perfeCl mafter of the firft, and Juvenal much admired for the laft. The one is face¬ tious, and fmiles : the other is angry, and ftorms. The foibles of mankind are the obje£f of one } but crimes of a deeper dye have engaged the other. They both agree, however, in being pungent and biting : and from a due confideration of the writings of thefe authors, who are our mailers in this art, we may define fatire to be, iKp A free, (and often jocofe), witty, and fharp poem, Defimdo** wherein the follies and vices of men are lafhed and ridi- culed in order to their reformation. Its fubjeft is whatever deferves our contempt or abhorrence, (includ¬ ing every thing that is ridiculous and ablurd, or foanda- lous and repugnant to the golden precepts of religion and virtue). Its manner is invective; and its end, Jhame. So that fatire may be looked upon as the phy- fician of a diftempered mind, which it endeavours to cure by bitter and unfavoury, or by pleafant and falutary, ap¬ plications. A good fatirift ought to be a man of wit and ad- Qualities drefs, fagacity and eloquence. He fhould alio have aofagood great deal of good-nature, as all the fentiments which are beautiful in this way of writing mull proceed from that quality in the author. It is good-nature produces that difdain of all bafenefs, vice, and folly, which prompts the poet to exprefs himfelf with fuch fmartnefs againft the errors of men, but without bitternefs to their per¬ fons. It is this quality that keeps the mind even, and never lets an offence unfeafonably throw the fatirift out of his chara&er. In writing fatire, care fhould be taken that it be true and general; that is, levelled at abufes in which num¬ bers are concerned : for the perfonal kind of fatire, or lampoon, which expofes particular charaHers, and af¬ fects the reputation of thofe at whom it is pointed, is fcarceiy to be diftinguifhed from fcandal and defamation. The poet alfo, whilft he is endeavouring to correct the guilty, muft take care not to ufe fuch expreflions as may corrupt the innocent : he muft therefore avoid all obfeene words and images that tend to debafe and mif- lead the mind. Horace and Juvenal, the chief fatirifts among Part II. POE iC6 Proper ftyle of fdUre- Of Satire, among the Romans, are faulty in this refpeft, and ought to be read vyith caution. The ftyle proper for fatire is fometimes grave and animated, inveighing againft vice with warmth and ear- neftnefs; but that which is pleafant, fportive, and, with becoming raillery, banters men out of their bad difpofi- tions, has generally the belt eftedft, as it feems only to play with their follies, though it omits no opportunity of making them feel the lath. The verfes fhould be fmooth and flowing, and the language manly, juft, and decent. Of well-chofe words fome take not care enough, And think they ftiould be as the fubjeft rough : But fatire muft be more exaftly made, And fliarpeft thoughts in fmootheil words convey’d. Duke of Bucks’s EJfcnj. Satires, either of the jocofe or ferious kind, may be written in the epiftolary manner, or by way of dialogue. Horace, Juvenal, and Perfius, have given us examples of both. Nay, ibme of Horace’s fatires may, without incongruity, be called epiflles, and his epiitles fatires. But this is obvious to every reader. Of the facetious kind, the fecond fatire of the fe- cond book of Horace imitated by Mr Pope, and Swift’s verfes on his own death, may be referred to as ex¬ amples. As to thofe {atires of the ferious kind, for which Ju¬ venal is fo much diftinguifhed, the charaifteriftic proper¬ ties of which are, morality, dignity, and feverity } a bet¬ ter example cannot be mentioned than the poem enti¬ tled London, written in imitation of the third fatire of Ju- \'enal, by Dr Johnfon, who has kept up to the fpirit and force of the original. Nor muft we omit to mention Dr Young’s Love of Fame the XJniverfal PaJJton, in feven fatires; which, though charafleriftical, abound with morality and good fenfe. The chara&ers are. well felefted, the ridicule is high, and the fatire well pointed and to the pur- pofe. We have already obferved, that perfonal fatire ap¬ proaches too near defamation, to deferve any counte¬ nance or encouragement. Dryden’s Mack Flecknoe is for this reafon exceptionable, but as a compofttion it is inimitable. Benefits of V/c have dwelt thus long on the prefent fubjeft, be- is the diftinguiftied letter, and the fyllable T R Y. 43 which contains it the diftinguiihed fyliable ; but if we Verfifica- add more fyllables to it, as in the word ac'ceptab/e, the t'on- feat of the accent is changed to the firft fyllable, 0f which c is the diftinguiftied letter. Every word in our language of more fyllables than one has one of the fyl- lables diftinguiftied from the reft in this manner, and every monofyllable has a letter. Thus, in the word hat1 the t is accented, in hate the vowel <7, in cub' the b, and in cube the u: fo that as articulation is the effence of fyllables, accent is the eflence of words ; which with¬ out it would be nothing more than a mere fucceflion of fyllables.” We have faid, that it was the practice of the Greeks and Romans to elevate or deprefs their voice upon one fyllable of each word. In this elevation or depreflion confifted their accent *, but the Englifti accent confifts in the mere ftrefs of the voice, without any change of note. “ Among the Greeks, all fyllables were pronounced ei¬ ther in a high, low, or middle note ; or elfe in a union of the high and low by means of the intermediate. The middle note, which was exaftly at an equal diftance be¬ tween the high and the low, was that in which tlie un¬ accented fyllables were pronounced. But every word had one letter, if a monofyllable j or one fyllable, if it confifted of more than one, diftinguiftied from the reft 5 either by a note of the voice perceptibly higher than the middle note, which was called the acute? accent; or by a note perceptibly, and in an equal proportion, lower than the middle one, which was called the grave accent; or by an union of the acute and grave on one fyllable, which was done by the voice palling from the acute, through the middle note, in continuity down to the grave, which was called the circumflex. “ Now in pronouncing Englifti words, it is true that one fyllable is always diftinguiftied from the reft •, but it is not by any perceptible elevation or depreflion of the voice, any high or low note, that it is done, but merely by dwelling longer upon it, or by giving it a more forcible itroke. When the ftrefs or accent is on the vowel, we dwell longer on that fyllable than on the reft ; as, in the words glory, father, L6!y. When it is on the confonant, the voice, palling rapidly over the vowel, gives a fmarter ftroke to the confonant, which diftinguifties that fyllable from others, as in the words bat’tie, hab’it, bar’row.11 Having treated fo largely of accent and quantity, the next thing to be confidered in verfe will be quickly difcuflfed \ for in Englilh it depends wholly on the feat of the accent. “ When the accent or ftrefs is on. the vowel, the fyllable is necefiarily long, becaufe the ac¬ cent cannot be made wuthout dwelling on the vowel a longer time than ufual. When it is on the confonant, the fyllable is fhort; becaufe the accent is made by pal¬ ling rapidly over the vowel, and giving a (mart ftroke of the voice to the following confonants. Thus the wmrds ad’d, led’, bid', cub', are all fhort, the voice paf- fing quickly over the vowel to the confonant ; but fat the contrary reafon, the words dll, laid, bide, cube, .are long; the accent being on the vowels, on which the voice dwells fome time before it takes in the found of the confonant.” “ Obvious as this point is, it has wholly efcaped the oblervation of many an ingenious and learned writer. Lord Kames affirms *, that accenting is confined in * El. of Englilh heroic verfe to the long fyllables j for a fliort Grit. vo!. u. F 2 fyllable 44 P O E "1 Art of JReading, vol. ji. Vf.rfiFica- fyliable (fays lie) is not capable of an accent: and Dr , tlon' ^ Forfter, who ought to have underftood the nature of the Engliih accent better than Ids Lordihip, aiks, whe¬ ther avc do not ‘ employ more time in uttering the JlrJi fyllables of heavily, hafiily, quickly, Jlowly ; and the Jecond in folicit, mijlaking, refear dies, de/ufive, than in the others P To this queftion Mr Sheridan replies f, that “ in iome of thcfe words avc certainly do as the Doctor fuppofes; in hdflily, fovaly, tnifdking, dclufvc, for inftance ; where the accent being on the voavcIs ren¬ ders their found long •, but in all the others heav’ily, •quick'ly, foils’-it, re fear’-dies, wdiere the accent is on the conionant, the fyllables head, quick', hs', fed, are pronounced as rapidly as poffible, and the vowels are all fhort. In the Scotch pronunciation (continues he) they would indeed be all reduced to an equal quantity, as thus; hdi-vily, hdis-tily, queekly, flow-ly, fo-leecit, rc- fdir-ches, de-lu-fve. But here we fee that the four fhort fyllables are changed into four long ones of a different found, occafioned by their placing the feat of the accent on the voAvels in dead of the confonants : thus inftead of hed they fay hdiv ; for quick', qucek ; for lis', leece; and for fcr', fair. “ It appears therefore, that the quantity of Englifh fyllables is adjufted by one eafy and fimple rule ; which is, that AA'hen the feat of the accent is on a vov\-el, the fyllable is long ; Avhen on a conionant, fhort; and that all unaccented fyllables are fhort. Without a due ob- fervation of quantity in reciting verfes there will be no poetic numbers ; yet in compoffng Englifh verfes the poet need not pay the lead attention to the quantity of his fyllables, as meafure and movement will refult from the obfervation of other laws, which are now to be ex¬ plained. It has been affirmed by a Avriter % of great authority among the critics, that in Engliffi heroic verfe every line confifts of ten fyllables, five ftort and five long ; from which there are but two exceptions, both of them rare. The firff is, where each line of a couplet is made eleven fyllables, by an additional fhort fyllable at the end. There heroes wit's are kep't in pond’rous vafes, And beaus' in fhuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes. The other exception, he fays, concerns the fecond line of a couplet, which is fometimes ftretched out to tAvelve fyllables, termed an Alexandrine line. i Lord Karnes. A needlefs Alexandrine ends the fong, That, like a wounded fnake, drags its along. flow length After what has been juft faid, it is needlefs to flop for the purpofe of pointing out the ingenious author’s mi- 'ftake refpecling long and fhort fyllables. Every atten¬ tive reader of what has been already laid .down, muft perceive, that in the firft line of the former couplet, though there are no fewer than fix accented fyllables when it is properly read, yet of thefe there are but three that are long, viz. thole wffiich have the accent on the vowel. Our bufinefs at prefent is, to fliow the falfity of the rule which reftrains the heroic line to ten fyllables; and this we fhall do by producing lines of a greater number. T R Y. Fart III. And the finiii iouuds ran echoing through the wood. Verifica¬ tion. This line, though it confifts of eleven fyllables, and has the laid of thole accented, or, as Lord KameS would fay, long, is yet undoubtedly a heroic verfe of very fine found. Perhaps the advocates for the rule may con¬ tend, that the vcavcI o in echoing ought to be idruck out by an apoftrophe; but as no one reads, And the ffirill founds ran ech’ing through the vvood, it is furely very abfurd to omit in writing what cannot be omitted in utterance. The two following lines have each eleven fyllables, of which not one can be fupprefl’ed in recitation. Their glittering textures of the filmy deAv, Idle great hierarchal ftandard Avas to move. Mr Sheridan quotes as a heroic line, O’er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp ; and obferves what a monftrous line it would appear, if pronounced, O’er man’ a frozen, man’ a fi’ry Alp, inftead of that noble verfe, which it certainly is, when all the thirteen lyllables are diftinftly uttered. Pie then produces a couplet, of which the former line bias four¬ teen, and the latter twelve fyllables. And many an amorous, many a humorous lay, Which many a bard had chaunted many a day. That this is a couplet of very fine found cannot be con¬ troverted ; but we doubt whether the numbers of it or of the other quoted line of thirteen fyllables be truly he-, roic. To our ears at leaft there appears a very percep¬ tible difference between the movement of theie verfes- and that of the verfes of Pope or Dryden ; and avc think, that, though fuch couplets or fingle lines may, for the fake of variety or expreffion, be admitted into a heroic poem, yet a poem wholly compofed of them would not be confidered as heroic verfe. It has a much greater refemblance to the verfe of Spenfer, which is now broke into tA\ro lines, of which the firft has eight and the fecond fix fyllables. Nothing, however, feems to be more evident, from the other quoted inftances, than that a heroic line is not confined to the fyllables, and that it is not by the number of fyllables that an Englifh verfe is to be meafured. But if a heroic verfe in our tongue be not compofed, as in French, of a certain number of fyllables, how is it formed ? We anfiver by feet, as was the hexameter line of the ancients; though between their feet and ours there is at the fame time a great difference. The poetic feet of the Greeks and Romans are formed by quantity, thofe of the Engliih by flrefs or accent. “ Though thefe terms are in continual ufe, and in the mouths of all v/ho treat of poetic numbers, very confufed and erro¬ neous ideas are fometimes annexed to them. Yet as the knoAvledge of the peculiar genius of our language with regard to poetic numbers and its charafteriftical differ¬ ence from others in that refpeft, depends upon our hav¬ ing clear and precife notions of thofe terms, it will be neceffary to have them fully explained. The general nature of them has been already fufficiently laid open. Fart III. P ° E Verfifica- and we have now on!) to make fome obiervaUcns on lion. their particular effefts in the formation ol nietre. —1 No fcholar is ignorant that quantity is a term which relates to the length or the Ihortnels of fyllables, and that a long fyllable is double the length of a Ihort one. Now the plain meaning of this is, that a long fyllable takes up double the time in founding that a thort one does 5 a faft of which the car alone can be the judge. When a fyllable in Latin ends with a confonant, and the fiibfequent fyllable commences with one, every fchool-boy knows that the former is long, to ufe the technical term, by the law of pofition. This rule was in pronunciation Itriclly obferved by the Romans, who always made fuch fyllables long by dwelling on the vowels} whereas the very reverie is the caie with us, be- caufe a quxle contrary rule takes place in Lnglifh words fo conflrufted, as the accent or Itrefs of the voice is in fuch cafes always transferred to the confonant, and the preceding vowel being rapidly palled over, that fyllable is of courfe ftiort. “ The Romans had another rule of profody, that when one fyllable ending with a vowel, was lolrowed by another beginning with a vowel, the former fyllable was pronounced fhort ", whereas in Enghfh there is ge¬ nerally an accent in that cafe on the former fyllable, as in the word pious, which renders the lyliable long. Pronouncing Latin therefore by our own rule, as in the former cafe, we make thole iyllables fhort which were founded long by them 5 fo in the latter we make thofe fyllables long which wuth them were fliort. W e fay ar'ma and virum'que, inflead of arma and virumque ; fcio and tuns, inftead of few and tuns'. “ Having made thefe preliminary obfervations, we proceed now to explain tne nature of poetic reet. Pcet in verle correfpond to bars in mufic : a certain number of fyllables conne&ed form a foot in the one, as a certain number of notes make a bar in the other. J-hey aie called feet, becaufe it is by their aid that the voice as it were Heps along through the verfe in a meafured pace ; and it is neceffary that the fyllables which mark this regular movement of the voice fhould in fome meafure be diilinguifhed from the others, ibis di- ftindtion, as we have already obferved, wms made among the ancient Romans, by dividing their fyllables into long and fliort, and afeertaining their quantity by an ex aft proportion of time in founding them ; the long being to the fliort as two to one ; and the long fyllables, being thus the more important, marked the movement of the verfe. In Englifh, fyllables are divided into accented and unaccented ; and the accented fyllables being as ftrongly diftinguifhed from the unaccented, by the pe¬ culiar fhefs of the voice upon them, are as capable of marking the movement, and pointing out the regular TRY. 45 paces of the voice, as the long fyllables vfefe by their VerfTca- quantity among the Romans. Hence it follows, that our , tl^n‘' , accented fyllables coirefponding to their long ones, and our unaccented to their fhort, in the ftru&ure of poetic feet, an accented fyllable followed by one unaccented hi the fame foot will anfw er to their trochee ; and pre¬ ceded by an unaccented cue, to their iambus; and fo with the reft. “ All feet ufed iu poetry confift either of two or three fyllables; and the feet among the ancients were denominated from the number and quantity .of their fyllables. The meafure (ft quantity was the fhert fyl¬ lable, and the long one in time was equaUo two ftiort. A foot could not confift of lefs than two times, becaufe it muft contain at leaft two fyllables ; and by a law re- fpecling numbers, which is explained elfewhere (fee Music), a poetic foot would admit of no mere than four of thofe times. Confequently the poetic feet were neceflarily reduced to eight-, four of two fyllables, and four of three. Thofe of two fyllables muft either con¬ fift of two fhort, called a pyrrhic ; two long, called a fpondee ; a long and a fhort, called a trochee; or a fhort and a long, called an iambus. Ihcfe of three fyllables were, either three ihort, a tribrach ; a long and two fhort, a daRyl; a ftiort, long, and fliort, an amphibrach; or two fhort and a long, an anapeej} (y), We are now fufficiently prepared for confidering what feet enter into the compofition of an Engiifh heroic verfe. The Greeks and Romans made ufe of but two feet in the ftruftute of their hexameters; and the Englifh heroic may be wholly compofed of one foot, viz. the iambic, which is therefore the foot moll congenial to that fpecies of verfe. Our poetry indeed abounds with verfes into which no other foot is admitted. Such as, The pow’rs | gave ear [ and granjted half | his pray r, The rest' | the winds | difpers’d | in emp'jty air. Our heroic line, however, is not wholly reftrained to the ufe of this foot. In the opinion of Mr Sheridan it ad¬ mits all the eight before enumerated j and it certainly excludes none, unlefs perhaps the tribrach. It is known to every reader of Englifh poetry, that fome of the fineft heroic verfes in our language begin with a trochee ; and that Pope, the fmootheft of all our verfifiers, was remark¬ able for his ufe of this foot, as is evident from the fol¬ lowing example, where four fucceeding lines out of fix have a trochaic beginning. Her lively looks a fprightly mind difclofe, Quick as j her eyes | and as unfix’d as thofe : Favours j to none j to all fhe fmiles extends, O'ft fhe j rejedls | but never once offends. Bright as | the fun | her eyes the gazers ft like. And like the fun fhe fhines on all alike. The (y) For the convenience of the lefs learned reader we lhall here fubjoin a fcheme of poetic feet, ufing Rie marks (- o ) in ufe among the Latin grammarians to denote the genuine feet by quantity j and the following marks. (' V ) to denote the Englifh feet by accent, which anfwer to thofe. Trochee Iambus Spondee Pyrrhic Roman Englifli Roman Dadlyl - Amphibrach o Anapeeft u Tribrach o Englifli o 1 4*5 P 0 E Verfifica- The ufe of this foot, however, is not neceflfarily con- i- -1™'. . to the beginning of a line. Milton frequently introduces it into other parts of the verfe j of which take the following inftances : That 611 j was loft' | back' to | the thick'jet flunk— Of T've | whofe ey'e | darted contajgious fire. 1 he laft line of the following couplet begins with a Pyrrhic: She faid, | and mel|ting as in tears flie lay, In a | foft siljver ftream diflblv’d away j But this foot is introduced likewife with very good ef- fe<5t into other parts of the verfe, as Pant on j thy lip' | and to | thy heart | be preft.j The phantom flies me j as unjkind as you. Leaps o’er the fence with eafe I into I the fold. *_/ ' * And the | ftirill' founds | ran echoing through the wood. In this laft line we fee that the firft foot is a pyrr/iic, and the fecond a fpondee ; but in the next the two firft feet are fpondees. Plill's peep | o’er hill's | and Alps | on Alps | arife. In the following verfe a trochee is fucceeded by two fpon¬ dees, of which the former is a genuine fpondee by quan¬ tity, and the latter equivalent to a fpondee by accent. See the | bold youth ] ftrain up' | the threatj’ning fteep. We ftiall now give fome inftances of lines containing both the pyrrhic and the fpondee, and then proceed to the confideration of the other four feet. That bn | weak wings | from far purfues your flight. Thrb’ithe j fair fcene | roll flow j the ling’ring ftreams. On her J white breast' j a fparkling crofs the wore. Of the four trifyllabic feet, the firft, of which we lhall give inftances in heroic lines, is the dattyl; as Mur'muring, | and with | him' fledjthe (hades | of night. Hov'ering | on wing j un'der | the cape | of hell'. Tim'orous j and flothful yet he pleas’d the ear. Of truth j in word | mightier | than they | in arms. Of the anapafl a Angle inftance (hall fufHce ; for except by Milton it is not often ufed. The great | hierarjchal ftandard was to move. amphibrach is employed in the four following verfes, and in the three laft with a very fine effedl. With wheels | yet hover|ing o’er the ocean brim. Rous’d from their (lumber on | that fiejry | couch. While the | prbmis'cii'ous crowd flood yet aloof. Throws his fteep flight | in many | an ai|ry whirl. T R Y- Part Hi. meafure of a whole line, conftrufted in the former man- Verfifica- ner, muft be (horter than that of another line conftrudt- do«. ed in the latter ; and that the intermixture of verfes of fuch different meafures in the fame poem muft have a bad effetft on the melody, as being deftrudlive of proper tion*. I his objection would be well-founded, wTere not the time of the (nort accented fyllables compenfated by a fmall paufe at the end of each word to which they be- long, as is evident in the following verfe : Then rus'Jtling crack'jling craflijing thun'jder down. P his line is formed of iambics by accent upon con(o- nants, except the laft (yliable j and yet by means of thefe foft paufes or reds, the meafure of the whole is equal to that of the following, which confifts of pure iambics by quantity. O’er heaps j of rfi|in ftSlk’d j the ftatejly hind. Movement, of fo much importance in verfification, re’ gards the order of fyllables in a foot, meafure their quan¬ tity. J. he order of (yllables refpedls their progrefs from (hort to long or from long to fliort, as in the Greek and Latin languages j or from ftrong to wTeak or vreak to ftrong, i. e. from accented or unaccented fyllables, as in our tongue. It has been already obferved, that an Eng- lifli heroic verfe may be compofed wholly of iambics j and experience (hows that, fuch verles have a fine melody. But as the ftrefs of the voice in repeating verfes of pure iambics, is regularly on every fecond fyllable, fuch uni¬ formity would difguft the ear in any long fucceflion, and therefore fuch changes were fought for as might intro¬ duce the pleafure of variety without prejudice to me¬ lody j or which might even contribute to its improve¬ ment. Of this nature wras the introduflion of the tro¬ chee to form the firft foot of an heroic verfe, which ex¬ perience has fliown us is fo far from fpoiling the melody, that in many cafes it heightens it. This foot, however, cannot well be admitted into any other part of the verfe without prejudice to the melody, becaufe it interrupts and (lops the ufual movement by another direftly oppofite. But though it be excluded wfith regard to pure melody, it may often be admitted into any part of the verfe wdth advantage to expreflion, as is well known to the readers of Milton. The next change admitted for the fake of variety, without prejudice to melody, is the intermixture of pyrrhics and (pondees j in which twro impreftions in the one foot make up for the want of one in the other j and two long fyllables compenfate two (hort, fo as to make the fum of the quantity of the two feet equal to two iambics. I hat this may be done without prejudice to the melody, take the following inftances: On her | white bread | a fparkling crofs (he wore. Nor the | deep traft | of hell—fay firft what caufe. Having thus fufficiently proved that the Englfth heroic verfe admits of all the feet except the tribrach, it may be proper to add, that from the nature of our accent we have duplicates of thefe feet, viz. fuch as are formed by quantity, and fuch as are formed by the mere ictus of the voice j an opulence peculiar to our.tongue, and wThich may be the (ourv.e of a boundlels variety. But as feet formed of fyllables which have the accent or iBus on the confon- «.nt are neceffanly pronounced in lefs time than fimilar feet formed by quantity, it may be objefted, that the 4 This intermixture may be employed ad libitum, in any part of the line •, and fometimes two fpondees may be placed together in one part of the verfe, to be compen¬ fated by two pyrrhics in another ; of which Mr Sheridan quotes the following lines as inftances : Stood rul’d | flood vaft | inf injitude | confined. She all ] night long | her amqrous d&jcant fung. That the foimer is a proper example, will not perhaps be queftioned j but the third foot in the latter is certain- Jy Part III. POE Verfifica- ly no pyrrhic. As it is marked here and by him, it is , tlon- a tribrach j but we appeal to our Engliih readers, if it v ought not to have been marked an amphibrach by ac¬ cent, and if the fourth foot be not an iambus. To us the feet of the line appear to be as follow : She all | night long | her am'bjrbus des'|cant fun'g. It is indeed a better example of the proper ufe of the amphibrach than any which he has given, unlefs perhaps the two following lines : Up to | the fie|ry conjcave tow'erjing high Throws his | deep flight | in man'y j an aijry whirl. That in thele three lines the introduction of the amphi¬ brach does not hurt the melody, will be acknowledged by every perfon who has an ear j and thofe who have not, are not qualified to judge. But we appeal to every man of tafte, if the two amphibrachs fucceeding each other in the lafl line do not add much to the expreflion of the verfe. If this be queftioned, v/e have only to change the movement to the common iambic, and wTe fhall difcover how feeble the line will become. Throws his | deep flight | in manjy ai|ry whirls. This is Ample defcription, indead of that magical power of numbers which to the imagination produces the ob- jeft itfelf, whirling as it were round an axis. Having thus fliown that the iambus, fpondee, pyr¬ rhic, and amphibrach, by accent, may be ufed in our meafure with great latitude ; and that the trochee may at all times begin the line, and in fome cafes with ad¬ vantage to the melody j it now remains only to add, that the dactyl, having the fame movement, may be in¬ troduced in the place of the trochee ; and the anapaed in the place of the iambus. In proof of this, were not the article fwelling in our hands, we could adduce many indances which would {how what an inexhaudible fund of riches, and what an immenfe variety of materials, are prepared for us, “ to build the lofty rhime.” But wre haden to the next thing to be confldered in the art of verflfying, which is known by the name ofpaufes. “ Of the poetic paufes there are two forts, the ce- fural and the final. The cefural divides the verfe into equal or unequal parts •, the Anal clofes it. In a verfe there may be two or more cefural paufes, but it is evi¬ dent that there can be but one Anal. As the Anal paufe concerns the reader more than the wsiter of verfes, it has been feldom treated of by the critics. Yet as it is this Anal paufe which in many cafes diflinguifhes verfe from profe, it cannot be improper in the prefent article to fliow howr it ought to be made. Were it indeed a law of our verAflcation, that every line flrould terminate with a flop in the fenfe, the boundaries of the meafure would be Axed, and the nature of the Anal paufe could not be midaken. But nothing has puzzled the bulk of readers, or divided their opinions, more than the manner in which thofe verfes ought to be recited, where the lenfe does not clofe with the line 5 and whofe lad words have a neceflary connexion with thofe that begin the fubfequent verfe. “ Some (fays Mr Sheridan) who fee the neceflity of pointing out the metre, pronounce the lad word ot each line in fuch a note as ufually accom¬ panies a comma, in marking the fmalied member of a fentence. Now this is certainly improper, becaufe it makes that appear to be a complete member of a fentence T R Y. which is an incomplete one j and by disjoining the fenfe as well as the words, often confounds the meaning. Others again, but thefe fewer in number, and of the more ab- lurd kind, drop their voice at the end of every line, in the fame note which they ufe in marking a full flop j to the utter annihilation of the fenfe. Some readers (con¬ tinues our author) of a more enthudaflic kind, elevate their voices at the end of all verfes to a higher note than is ever ufed in the flops which divide the meaning. But fuch a continued repetition of the fame high note becomes difgufting by its monotony, and gives an air of chanting to fuch recitation. To avoid thefe feveral faults, the bulk of readers have chofen what they think a fafer courfe, which is that of running the lines one into another without the lead paufe, where they And none in the fenfe j but by this mode of recitation they reduce poetry to fomething worfe than profe, to verfe run mad. But it may be afked, if this Anal paufe mud be mark¬ ed neither by an elevation nor by a depreffion of the voice, how is it to be marked at all ? To which Mr Sheridan replies, by making no change whatever in the voice before it. This will fufficiently diftinguifh it from the other paufes, the comma, femicolon, &c. becaufe fome change of note, by raiAng or deprefling the voice,, always precedes them, whilft the voice is here only fu- fpended. Now this paufe of fufpenflon is the very thing want¬ ing to preferve the melody at all times, without inter¬ fering with the fenfe. For it perfectly marks the bound of the metre : and being made only by a fufpenflon, not by a change of note in the voice, it never can affedl the fenfe j becaufe the fentential flops, or thofe which affedt the fenfe, being all made with a change of note, where there is no fuch change the fenfe cannot be affefted. Nor is this the only advantage gained to numbers by this flop of fufpenflon. It alfo prevents the monotony at the end of lines •, which, how7ever pleaflng to a rude, is difgufting to a delicate, ear. For as this flop has- no peculiar note of its own, but always takes that which belongs to the preceding word, it changes continually with the matter, and is as various as the fenfe. Having faid all that is neceffary with regard to the Anal, wre proceed now to conflder the cefural, paufe. To thefe tw7o paufes it will be proper to give the denomi¬ nation of mufical, to diftinguifh them from the comma, femicolon, colon, and full flop, which may be called fen¬ tential paufes; the office of the former being to mark the melody, as that of the latter is to point out the fenfe. The cefural, like the Anal paufe, fometimes co¬ incides wdth the fentential; and fometimes takes place w'here there is no flop in the fenfe. In this laft cafe, it is exaftly of the fame nature, and governed by the fame laws wdth the paufe of fufpenflon, which we have juft defcrihed. The cefure, though not effential, is however a great ornament to verfe, as it improves and diverflfles the melody, by a judicious management in varying its fltu- ation ; but it difcharges a ftill more important office than this. Were there no cefure, verfe could afpire to no higher ornament than that of flm< le melody j but by means of this paufe there is a new fource of delight opened in poetic numbers, correfpondent in fome fort, to harmony in muflc. This takes its rife from that acl of the mind which compares the relative proportions thafc 47 Verfifica- 48 FOE Verfiflca- tnat tlie Members of a verfe liras divided bear to each , UQt1, other, as well as to thofe in the adjoining lines. In or- ^ der to fee this matter in a clear light, let us examine what effeft the cefure produces in fmgle lines, and afterwards in comparing contiguous lines with each other. With regard to the place of the cefure, Mr Pope and others have ex'prefsly declared, that no line appeared mu- fical to their ears, where the cefure was not after the fourth, fifth, or fixth fyllable of the verfe. Some have enlarged its empire to the third and feventh fyllables ; whiltt others have atTerted that it may be admitted into any part of the line. “ There needs but a little diftinguifiiing (fays Mr Sheridan), to reconcile thefe diiferent opinions. If me¬ lody alone is to be conndered, Mr Pope is in the right when he fixes its feat in or as near as may be to the middle of the verfe. To form lines of the firtl melody, the cefure mult either be at the end of the fecond or of the third foot, or in the middle of the third between the two. Of this movement take the following exam¬ ples : 1. Of the cefure at the end of the fecond foot. Our plenteous Itreams ]| a various race fupply; The bright-ey’d per'ch jj with fins of Tyrian dye 5 The filver eel || in {tuning volumes roll’d ; The yellow carp' || in fcaies bedrop’d with gold. 2. At the end of the third foot. With tender billet-dorlx ]| he lights the pyre, And breathes three amorous sighs Jj to raife the fire. 3. Between the two, dividing the third foot. The fields are ravifh’d || from the indufhfious fw$in«, From men their cities, || and from gods their fanes. Thefe lines are certainly all of a fine melody, yet they are not quite upon an equality in that refi>e61. Thofe ■which have the cefure in the middle are of the firft or¬ der •, thofe which have it at the end of the fecond foot are next •, and thofe which have the paufe at the end of the third foot the laft. The reafon of this preference it may not perhaps be difficult to affign. In the pleafure arifing from comparing the proportion which the parts of a whole bear to each other, the more eafily and diftimflly the mind perceives that proportion, the greater is the pleafure. New there Is nothing which the mind more intlantaneoufly and clearly difeerns, than the divifion of a whole into two equal parts, which alone would give a fuperiority to lines of the firft order over thofe of the other two. But this is not the only claim to fuperiority which fuch lines pofiefs. The cefure be¬ ing in them always on an unaccented, and the final paufe on an accented fyllable, they have a mixture of variety and equality of which neither of the other orders can boaft, as in thefe orders the cefural and final paufes are both on accented fyllables. In the divifion of the other two fpecies, if we refpefl quantity only, the proportion is exactly the fame, the one being as two to three, and the other as three to two ; but it is the order or movement which here makes the difference. In lines where the cefure bounds the fecond fool, the fmaller portion of the verfe is firft in order, the greater laft •, and this order is reverfed in lines which » have the cefure at the end of the third foot. Now, as 3 T It Y. Part III. the latter part of the verfe leaves the ftrongeft and moft Yerfifica- lafting impreffion on the ear, where the larger portion ( ^°n- belongs to the latter part of the line, the impreflion mult' " ^ * in proportion be greater j the effedi in found being the fame as that produced by a climax in fenfe, where one part rifes above another. Having fliown in what manner the cefure improves and diverfifies the melody of verfe, we lhail now treat of its more important office, by which it is the chief fource of harmony in numbers. But, firft, it will be necefiar-y to explain what we mean by the term harmony, as ap¬ plied to verfe. Melody in mufic regards only the effedls produced by fucceffive founds •, and harmony, ftridtly fpeaking, the effedls produced by different co-exifting founds, which are found to be in concord. Harmony, therefore, in this fenfe of the word, can never be applied to poetic numbers, of which there can be only one reciter, and confequently the founds can only be in fucceffion. When therefore we fpeak of the harmony of verfe, we mean nothing more than an effedi produced by an adlion of the mind in comparing the different members of verfe alrea¬ dy conftrudled according to the laws of melody with each other, and perceiving a due and beautiful proportion be¬ tween them. The firff and lowed: perception of this kind of har¬ mony arifes from comparing two members of the fame line with each other, divided in the manner to be feen in the three inftances already given } becaufe the beauty of proportion in the members, according to each of thefe divifions, is founded in nature. But there is a percep¬ tion of harmony in verfification, which arifes from the comparifon of two lines, and obferving the relative pro¬ portion of their members •, whether they correfpond ex- adtly to each other by fimilar divifions, as in the couplets already quoted 5 or whether they are diverfified by ce- fures in different places. As, See the bold youth j| ftrain up the threatening deep, Rufti thro’ the thickets || down the valleys fweep. Where we find the cefure at the end of the fecond foot of the firft line, and in the middle of the third foot of the laft:. Hang o’er their courfers heads |j with eager fpeed, And earth rolls back j| beneath the dying fteed. Here the cefure is at the end of third foot in the former, and of the fecond in the latter line. The perception of this fpecies of harmony is far fuperior to the former ; becaufe, to the pleafure of comparing the members of the fame line with each other, there is fu~ peradded that of comparing the different members of the different lines with each other \ and the harmony is en¬ riched by having four members of comparifon inftead of two. The pleafure is ftill increafed in comparing a great¬ er number of lines, and obferviag the relative propor¬ tion of the couplets to each other in point of fimilarity and diverfity. As thus, Thy foreffs, Windfor, J| and thy green retreats. At once the monarch’s || and the mule’s feats, Invite my lays. |j Be prefent fylvan maids. Unlock your fprings |J and open all your fhades. Here we find that the cefure is in the middle of the verfe in each line of the firit couplet, and at the end of the Part III. POE Verfifica- the fecond foot in each line of the laft ; which gives a , tlon• , fimilarity in each couplet diilinftly confidered, and a diverlity w-hen the one is compared with the other, that has a very pleafing effeft. Nor is the pleafure lefs where we find a diverfity in»the lines of each couplet, and a fimilarity in comparing the couplets themfelves. As in thefe, Not half fo fwift || the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce eagle || cleaves the liquid fkyj Not half fo fwiftly || the fierce eagle moves, When thro’ the clouds || he drives the trembling doves. There is another mode of dividing lines well fuited to the nature of the couplet, by introducing femipaufes, which with the cefure divide the line into four portions. By a femipaufe, we mean a fmall reft of the voice, dur¬ ing a portion of time equal to half of that taken up by the cefure $ as will be perceived in the following fine couplet : Warms | in the fun || refrefhes | in the breeze, Glows | in the ftars || and bloflbms ) in the trees. That the harmony, and of courfe the pleafure, refult- ing from poetic numbers, is increafed as well by the fe- tnipaufe as by the cefure, is obvious to every ear *, be- caufe lines fo conftrufted furnilh a greater number of members for comparifon : but it is of more importance to obferve, that by means of the femipaufes, lines which, feparately confidered, are not of the fineft harmony, may yet produce it when oppofed to each other, and compared in the couplet. Of the truth of this obferva- tion, the following couplet, efpecially as it fucceeds that immediately quoted, is a ftriking proof: Lives | thro’ all life || extends | thro’ all extent, Spreads | undivided || operates | unfpent. What we have advanced upon this fpecies of verfe, will contribute to folve a poetical problem thrown out by Dryden as a crux to his brethren : it was to account for the peculiar beauty of that celebrated couplet in Sir TRY. 4! John Denham’s Cooper's Hill, where he thus defcribes Verfifka- the Thames: t'nri- Tho’ deep | yet clear |] tho’ gentle j yet not dull. Strong | without rage || without o’erflowing | full. This defcription has great merit independent of the harmony of the numbers; but the chief beauty of the verfification lies in the happy difpofition of the paufes and femipaufes, fo as to make a fine harmony in each line when its portions are compared, and in the couplet w’hen one line is compared with the other. Having now faid all that is neceffary upon paufes and femipaufes, we have done the utmoft juftice to our fub- je£t which the limits afligned us will permit. Feet and paufes are the conftituent parts of vevfe; and the proper adjuftment of them depends upon the poet’s knowledge of numbers, accent, quantity, and movement, all of which we have endeavoured briefly to explain. In con¬ formity to the praflice of fome critics, we might have treated feparately of rhime and of blank verfe 5 but as the effentials of all heroic verfes are the fame, fuch a divifion of our fubjeft would have thrown no light upon the art of Englifh verfification. It may be juft worth while to obferve, that the paufe at the end of a couplet ought to coincide, if poflible, with a flight paufe in the fenfe, and that there is no neceflity for this coin¬ cidence of paufes at the end of any particular blank verfe. We might likewife compare our heroic line with the ancient hexameter, and endeavour to appretiate their refpe&ive merits j but there is not a reader capable of attending to fuch a comparifon who will not judge for himfelf; and it may perhaps be queftioned, whether there be two who will form precifely the fame judgment. Mr Sheridan, and all the mere Engliflr critics, give a high degree of preference to our heroic, on account of the vaft variety of feet which it admits: whilft the readers of Greek and Latin poetry prefer the hexame¬ ter, on account of its more mufical notes and maieftic length. P O G P O G Pogge li P°ggy iflands. POGGE, the MAILED or ARMED GURNARD, Or COTTUS CATAPHRACTUS. See CoTTUS, ICHTHYOLOGY, p. 89. POGGIUS Bracciolinus, a man of great parts and learning, who contributed much to the revival of knowledge in Europe, was born at Terranuova, in the territories of Florence, in 1380. His firft public em¬ ployment was that of writer of the apoftolic letters, which he held 10 years, and was then made apoftolic fecretary, in which capacity he officiated 40 years, un¬ der feven popes. In 1453, w^en he was 72 years of age, he accepted the employment of fecretary to the re¬ public of Florence, to which place he removed, and died in 1459. Fie vifited feveral countries, and fearched many monafteries, to recover ancient authors, numbers of which he brought to light: his own works confift of moral pieces, orations, letters, and A Hiftory of Flo¬ rence from 1350 to 1455, which is the moft confider- able of them. FOGGY islands, othenvife called Naffau iflands, Vol. XVII. Part I. form part of a chain of iflands which ftretch along the Poggy whole length of Sumatra, in the Eaft Indies, and lie at, illands- the diftance of twenty or thirty leagues from the weft' r—* coaft of that ifland. The northern extremity of the northern Poggy lies in latitude 2° 18' S., and the fouthem extremity of the fouthern ifland in latitude 30 i6; S. The two are fepa- rated from each other by a very narrow paflage called the ftrait of See Cockup, in latitude 2° 4c/ S. and lon¬ gitude about ioo° 38' eaft from Greenwich.” The number of inhabitants in thefe iflands amounts to no more than 1400. Mr Crifp, who ftaid about a month among them, carefully collefted many particulars ref- pedling their language, cuftoms, and manners. He ad¬ verts to one circumftance relative to this people, which may be confidered as a curious facl in the hiftory : “ From the proximity of the iflands, (fays he,) to Su¬ matra, which, in refpedf to them, may be confidered as a continent, we ffiould naturally expedt to find their in¬ habitants to be a fet of people originally derived from G the P O G [ so ] P O I Peggy iflands. tlie Sumatra ftock, and look for fome affinity in tlieir language and manners 5 but, to our no fmall furprife, we find a race of men, wbofe language is totally differ¬ ent, and whole cuftoms and habits of life indicate a ve¬ ry difiinft origin, and bear a linking refemblance to thofe of the inhabitants of the late difeovered iffands in the great Pacific ocean.” There is fafe riding for (hips of any fize in the Ifraits, which have no other defied! as a harbour than the depth of the water (25 fathoms clofe in fhore). The face of the country, and its vegetable and animal productions, are deferibed in the following words: “ The mountains are covered with trees to their fum- mits, among which are found fpecies of excellent tim¬ ber ; the tree, called by the Malays, bintangoor, and which, on the other India, is called pohoon, abounds here. Of this tree are made mails, and fome are found of fufficient dimenlions for the lower mall of a firll-rate ffiip of war. During my flay here I did not difeover a fingle plant which we have not on Sumatra. The fago tree growing in plenty, and conftitutes the chief article of food to the inhabitants, who do not cultivate rice 5 the cocoa-nut tree and the bamboo, two moll ufeful plants, are found here in great plenty. They have a variety of fruits, common in thefe climates, fuch as mangofxeens, pine-apples, plantains, buah, chvpah, &c. The woods, in their prefent Hate, are impervious to man ; the fpecies of wild animals which inhabit them are but few; the large red deer, feme hogs, and feveral kinds of monkeys are to be found here, but neither buf¬ faloes, nor goats 5 ner are theie forells infefted, like thofe of Sumatra, with tigers or any other beaft of prey. Of domellic poultry, there is only the common fowl, which probably has been originally brought from Suma¬ tra •, but pork and filh conftitute the favourite animal food of the natives. Filh are found here in confiderable plenty, and very good.” The llaiure of the inhabitants of thefe ifiands feldcm exceeds five feet and a half; their colour is like that of the Malays} they pradlife tattooing, and file their teeth to a point*, and though of a mild dilpofition, they have fome of the filthy cultoms of favages, particularly that of picking vermin from their heads and eating them. Their mode of tattooing, as well as the treatment of their dead, is reprefented to be very fimilar to the prac¬ tices of the Otaheitans. “ The religion of this people, (fays Mr Crifp), if it can be faid that they have any, may truly be called the re¬ ligion of nature. A belief of the exillence of fome powTers more than human cannot fail to be excited among the moll uncultivated of mankind, from the obfervations of various ftriking natural phgenomena, fuch as the diur¬ nal revolution of the fun and moon; thunder and light¬ ning*, earthquakes, &c. &c.: nor will there ever be wanting among them fome, of fuperior talents and cun¬ ning, who will acquire an influence over w7eak minds, by affuming to themfelves an intereft with, or a power of controuling thofe fuper-human agents ; and fuch no¬ tions conftitute the religion of the inhabitants of the Poggys. Sometimes a fowl, and fometimes a hog, is facrificed to avert ficknefs, to appeafe the wrath of the offended power, or to render it propitious to fome pro¬ jected enterprife ; and Mr Belt was informed that omens of goo^ or ill fortune were drawn from certain appear¬ ances in the entrails of the viftlm. Put they have no form of religious worlhip, nor do they appear to have the moll dill ant idea of a future (late of rewards and pu-, nifhments. They do not praclife circumcilion.' AJiatic Refearches. « POGO, is the name by which the inhabbants of the Philippine iflands diftinguilh their quail, which, though fmalier than ours, is in every other refpedt very like it. POICTIERS, an ancient, large, and confiderable town of France, capital of Poitlou. It was a bilhop’s fee, and contained four abbeys, a mint, an univerfity fa¬ mous for law, 22 parilhes, 9 convents for men, and j 2 nunneries. There are here feveral Roman antiquities, and particularly an amphitheatre, but partly demolilhed, and hid by the houfes. There is alfo a triumphal arch, which ferves as a gate to the great ftreet. It is not peopled in proportion to its extent. Near this place Edward the Black Prince gained a decifive victory over the French, taking King John and his fon Philip pri- foners, in 1356, whom he afterwards brought over into England. See France, N° 71, &x.—It is feated on a hill on the river Clain, 52 miles iouih-welt of Tours, and 1 20 north by call of Bourdeaux. E. Long. o. 25. N. Lat. 46. 35. POICTOU, a province of France, bounded on the north by Bretagne, Anjou, and part of Touraine : on the call by Touraine, Berry, and Manche ^ on the fouth by Angoumors, Saintonge, and the territory of Aunis j and on the weft by the lea of Galcony. It is divided into ihe Upper and Lower ; and is fertile in corn and wine, and feeds a great number of cattle, particularly mules. It was in poffeflxon of the kings of England for a confiderable time, till it was loft by the unfortunate Henry VI. PoiCliers is the capital town. Cv/rc cf PCICTOU. See MEDICINE, N° 303. POINCIANA, Barbaboes flower-fence 5 a genus of plants belonging to the decandria clafs *, and in the natural method ranking under the 33d order, Lomentacece. See Botany Index.—Of this genus there is only one fpecies, the pulcherrima, which is a native of both Indies, and grows to the height of 1 o or 12 feet, producing flowers of a very agreeable odour. In Barbadoes it is planted in hedges to divide the lands, whence it has the name of flower-fence. In the Weft Indies, its leaves are made ule of as a purgative inftead of fenna j and in Jamaica it is called flenna. POINT, a term ufed in various arts. Point, in Grammar, a charaCler tiled to mark the di- vifions of difeourfe. (See Comma, Colon, &c. A point proper is what wre otherwife call a full flop or period. See Punctuation. Point, in Geometry, according to Euclid, is that which has neither parts nor magnitude. Point, in Mufic, a mark or note anciently ufed to diftinguilh the tones or founds : hence we Hill call it [i?nple counter-point, when a note of the lowrer part nn- fwers exadlly to that of an upper \ and figurative coun¬ ter-point, when any note is fynccpated, and one of the parts makes feveral notes or inflexions of the voice, while the other holds on one. We Hill ufe a point, to raife the value of a note, and prolong its time by one half, e. g. a point added to a femibreve inftead of two minims, makes it equai to three j and fo of the other notes. See the article Time. Point, Pog* li Point. p o I [ S POINT, in Aflronomy, a term applied to certain points or places marked in the heavens, and diftinguithed by prope' epithets. The four grand points or divifions of the horizon, viz. the eaft, weft, north, and fouth, are called the car- *1'nal points. 1 The zenith and nadir are the vertical points ; the points wherein the orbits of the planets cut the plane of the ecliptic are called the nodes : the points wherein the equator and ecliptic interfect are called the equinoBial points : particularly, that whence the lun afcends towards the north pole, is called the vernal point; and that by which he defcends to the fouth pole, the autumnal point. The points of the ecliptic, where the fun’s afcent above the equator, and defcent below it, terminate, are called the foljliiial points ; particularly the former of them, the ejlival or fummer-point; the latter, the brumal or win¬ ter-point. Point is alfo uhd for a cape or headland jutting out into the fea : thus feamen fay, two points of land are in one another, when they are fo in a right line againft each other, as that the innermoft is hindered from being feen by the outermoft. Point, in PerfpeBive, is ufed for various poles or places, with regard to the perfpeftive plane. See Per- SPECTIVE. Point is alfo an iron or fteel inftrument, ufed with fome variety in feveral arts. Engravers, etchers, cut¬ ters in wood, &c. ufe points to trace their defigns on the copper, wrood, ftone, &c. See the articles Engra¬ ving, &c. Point, in the ManufaBories, is a general term, ufed for all kinds of laces wrought with the needle} fuch are the point de Venice, point de France, point de Genoa, &c. which are diftinguilhed by the particular economy and arrangement of their points.—Point -,is fometimes ufed for lace woven with bobbins 5 as Engliih point, point de Malines, point d’Havre, &c. Point, in Poetry, denotes a lively brilk turn or con¬ ceit, ufually found or expected at the clofe of an epigram. See Poetry, n° 169. PoiNT-Blank, in Gunnery, denotes the ftiot of a gun levelled horizontally, without either mounting or fink¬ ing the muzzle of the piece.—In fhooting point-blank, the fhot or bullet is fuppofed to go direftly forward in a ftraight line to the mark •, and not to move in a curve, as bombs and highly elevated random-ftiots do.—When a piece Hands upon a level plane, and is laid level, the diftance between the piece and the point wFere the fhot touches the ground firft, is called the point-blank range of that piece *, but as the fame piece ranges more or lels, according to a greater or lefs charge, the point-blank range is taken from that of a piece loaded with fuch a charge as is ufed commonly in aftion. It is therefore neceflary that thefe ranges of all pieces (hould be known, fince the gunner judges from thence what elevation he is to give to his piece when he is either farther from or nearer to the objefl to be fired at ; and this he can do pretty nearly by fight, after confiderable praftice. POINTING, in Grammar, the art of dividing a dif- courfe, by points, into periods and members of periods, in order to (how the proper paufes to be made in read¬ ing, and to facilitate the pronunciation and underftand- ing thereof. See the article' Punctuation. POINTS, in Heraldry, are the feveral different parts 1 ] p o 1 of an efcutcheon, denoting the local pofitions of any fi¬ gure. See Heraldry. Points, in EleBricity, are thofe acute terminations of bodies which facilitate the paifage of the electrical fluid from or to fuch bodies. See Electricity. Points, or Vowel Points, in the Hebrew language. See Philology, Seft. 1. n0 31, &c. POISON, is any fubftance which proves deftruCtive to the life of animals in a fmall quantity, either taken by the mouth, mixed with the blood, or applied to the nerves. See Medicine, n° 261, 269, 303, 322, 408, &c. &c. Of poifons there are many different kinds, which are exceedingly various in their operations. The mineral poifons, as arfenic and corrofive mercury, feem to attack the folid parts of the ftomach, and to produce death by eroding its fubftance : the antimonials feem rather to at¬ tack the nerves, and to kill by throwing the whole fy~ ftem into convulfions 5 and in this manner alio moft of the vegetable poifons feem to operate. All of thefe, however, feem to be inferior in ftrength to the poifons of fome of the more deadly kinds of ferpents, which ope¬ rate fo fuddenly that the animal bit by them will be dead before another that had fwallowed arfenic would be affefted. Much has been written concerning a poifon made ufe of by the African negroes, by the Americans, and by the Eaft Indians. To this very ftrange effects have been aferibed. It has been faid, that by this poifon, a man might be killed at any certain time 5 as, for in- fiance, after the interval of a day, a week, a month, a year, or even feveral years. Thefe wonderful effects, however, do not feem worthy of credit •, as the Abbe Fontana has given a particular account -of an American poifon called ticunas, which in all probability is the fame with that ufed in Africa and the Eaft Indies } and from his account it is extremely improbable that any fuch ef- fefts could be produced with certainty. With this poifon the Abbe was furniflied by Dr He- berden. It was clofed and fealed up in an earthen pot inclofed in a tin-cafe. Within the tin-cafe was a note containing the following words : “ Indian poifon, brought from the banks of the river of the Amazons by Don Pedro Maldonado. It is one of the forts mentioned in the Philofophical Tranfaftions, vol. xlvii. n° 12.” In the volume of the Philofophical Tranfadlions here quoted, mention is made of two poifons little different in their adlivity ; the one called the poifon of lamas, and the other of ticunas. The poifon in the earthen vef- fel ufed by the Abbe Fontana was that of the ticunas ; he was alfo furniflied with a number of American ar¬ rows dipped in poifon, but whether that of the lamas or ticunas he could not tell. Our author begins his account of the nature of this poifon with detedling fome of the miftakes which had been propagated concerning it.—It had been afferted, that the ticunas poifon proves noxious by the mere ef¬ fluvia, but much more by the fleam which exhales from it in boiling or burning : that, among the Indians, it is prepared only by women condemned to die •, and that the mark of its being fufficiently prepared, is when the attendant is killed by its fleam. All thefe affertions are by the Abbe refuted in the cleared manner. He ex- pofed a young pigeon to the fmell of the poifon when the veffel was opened, to the fleam of it when boiling, G 2 and p o I [ 52 1 P O I ifon. and to the vapour of it when burning to the (ides of the veffel, without the animal’s being the lealt injured ; on which, concluding that the vapours of this poifon were not to be dreaded, he expofed himfelf to them without any fear. X'his poifon diflblves very readily even in cold water, and likewile in the vegetable and mineral acids. With o.l of vitriol it becomes as black as ink, but not with the reft of the acids. In o:l of vitriol it alfo diffolves more ilowly than in any of the red. It does not effervefce with acids or alkalies; neither does it alter milk, nor tinge it, except with the natural colour of the poifon } nor does it tinge the vegetable juices either red or green. When examined by the microfcope, there is no appear¬ ance of regularity or cryftallizaiion ; but it for the moll part appears made up of very fmall, irregular, roundifh bodies, like vegetable juices. It dries without making any noife, and has an extremely bitter talte when put upon the tongue. The ticunas poifon is harmlefs when put into the eyes; nor is it fatal when taken by the mouth, unlefs the quan¬ tity is confiderable. Six grains of the folid poifon, dif- folved in water, killed a young pigeon which drank it in lefs than 20 minutes. Five grains killed a fmall Gui¬ nea-pig in 25 minutes. Eight grains killed a rabbit in an hour and eight minutes, &c. In thofe experiments it was obferved, that much lefs poifon was required to kill an animal whofe llomach was empty than one that had a full llomach. Three rabbits and two pigeons were killed in lefs than 35 minutes, by taking a dole of three grains each on an empty llomach ; but, when the expe¬ riment was repeated on five animals with full ftomachs, only one of them died. . The moll fatG operation of this poifon is when mixed with the blood. The fmaliell quantity, inje&ed into the jugular vein, killed the animal as if by a ftroke of light¬ ning. When applied to wounds in fuch a manner that tne flowing of the blood could not walh it away, the ani¬ mal fell into convullions and a train of fatal nerveus fymptoms, which put an end to its life in a few minutes. Yet, notwithllanding thefe feeming affeftions of the nerves, the poifon proved harmlefs when applied to the naked nerves themfelves, or even to the medullary fub- Eance of them flit open. The ftrength of this poifon feems to be diminifhed, and even dtftroyed, by mineral acids, but not at all by alkalies or ardent Ipirits } but if the frefli poifon was ap¬ plied to a wound, the application of mineral acids im¬ mediately after could not remove the pernipious effedls. So far, indeed, was this from being the cafe, that the ap- Poifon plication of nitrous acid to the wounded mufcle of a :—°-v— pigeon, killed the animal in a Ihort time without any poiion at all.— 1 he eiledls of the arrows were equally fatal with thole of the poifon itielf (a). ihe poifon of the viper is analogous in its effedls to that of ticunas, but inferior in ilrength; the lat¬ ter killing more inllantaneoufly when injected into a vein than even the poilon of the moil venomous rattle- fnake. The Abbe has, however, obferved a difference in the1 aflion of the two poii'ons upon blood taken out of the body. He cut oft the head of a pigeon, and received its blood into warm conical glaffes, to the amount of about 80 drops into each. Into the blood contained in one porringer, he put four drops of water; and into the other four drops of the poifon diffolved in water as ufual. The event of this experiment was, that the blood, with which the water only was mixed, coagulated in a fliort time ; but that in which the poiion was mixed did not coagulate at all. The poiion of the viper alfo hinders the blood from coagulating, but gives it a much blacker tinge than the poiion of the ticunas. The poiibn of the viper alio proves certainly fatal when injected into the veins, even in very fmall quantity 5 but it produces a kind of grumous coagulation and blacknefs in the blood when drawn from a vein, though it prevents the proper coagulation of that fluid, and its feparation into craffa- mentum and ferum as ufual. In the Philofophical Tranfadtions, N° 335. wTe have a number of experiments w’hich ihow the effects of ma¬ ny different poifons upon animals ; from w'hence it ap¬ pears, that many fubftances which are not at all account¬ ed poifonous, yet prove as certainly fatal when mixed with the blood as even the poifon of rattlefnakes, or the ticunas itfelf.—An ounce of emetic wine, being injeft- ed into the jugular vein of a large dog, produced no effebl for a quarter of an hour. At the expiration of that fpace he became fick, had a continual vomiting, and evacuation of feme hard excrements by ftool. By thefe evacuations he feemed to be fomewhat relieved 5 but foon grew uneafy, moved from place to place, and vomited again. After this he laid himfelf down on the ground pretty quietly ; but his reft was difturbed by a return of his vomiting, and his ftrength greatly decrea- : fed. An hour and a half after the operation he ap¬ peared half dead, but was greatly revived by having ibme warm broth poured down his throat with a funnel. This, however, proved only a temporary relief; for in a (a) hA Paterfon, in his travels in Africa, in the years 1777-8-9, fell in with an European wmman who had been wounded with a poifoned arrow. Great pains had been taken to cure her, but in vain ; for at different periods of the year an inflammation came oft which wras fucceeded by a partial mortification. She told him that the wound was eafily healed up •, but in two months afterwards there was a certainty of its breaking out again, and this had been the cafe for many years. The Hottentots poifon their arrows with a fpecies of euphorbia. The amaryllis difticha, a large bulbous plant growing about the Cape of Good Hope, called mad poifony is ufed for the fame pur¬ pose. 1 Sie natives take the bulbs when they are putting out their leaves, cut them tranfverfely, extract a thick fluid, and keep it in the fun till it acquires the eonfiftence of gum, when it is fit for ufe. With arrows poifoned witn this gum, they kill antelopes and other fmall animals intended for food. After they are wounded, the animals generally run for feveral miles, and are frequently not found till next day. When the leaves of this plant are young, tne cattle are very fond of them, though they occafion inftant death. Mr Paterfon mentions another fhrubby plant producing a nut, called by the Dutch vjoclf gift or wo/f poifon, the only poifon ufeful to the European inhabitants. I he nuts are roafted like coffee, pulverized, and fluffed into fome pieces of meat or a dead dog, which are thrown, into the fields. By this means the voracious hyenas are generally killed. P.° 1 , .[5 Poifon. a {liort time the vomiting returned, he made urine in —z'”— great quantity, howled miferably, and died in convul- fions.—A dram and a half of lal ammoniac diffolved in an ounce and a half of water, and injefted into the jugular vein of a dog, killed him with convulfions al- mofl inftantly.—The fame effeft followed from inject¬ ing a dram of fait of tartar diffolved in an ounce of warm water 3 but a dram and a half of common fait injefted into the jugular produced little other bad come- quence than a temporary thirft.—A dram of purified white vitriol, injected into the crural vein of a dog, killed him immediately,—Fifteen grains of fait of urine dilTolved in an ounce of water, and injefted into the crural vein of a dog, threw him into fuch violent con- vullions that he feemed to be dying 3 neverthelefs he re¬ covered from a fecond dofe, though not without a great deal of difficulty : but an ounce of urine made by a man falling produced no bad effeft. Diluted aqua¬ fortis injefted into the jugular and crural vein of a dog killed him immediately by coagulating the blood. Oil of fulphur (containing fome quantity of the volatile vi¬ triolic acid) did not kill a dog after repeated trials. On the contrary, as foon as he was let go, he ran into all the corners of the room fearching for meat 3 and hav¬ ing found fome bones, he fell a gnawing them with ftrange avidity, as if the acid, by injeftion into his veins, had given him a better appetite.—Another dog who had oil of tartar injected into his veins, fwelled and died, after fuffering great torment. His blood was found florid, and not coagulated.—A dram and a half of fpirit of fait diluted with water, and injefted into the jugular vein of a dog, killed him immediately. In the right ventricle of the heart the blood was found partly grumous and concreted into harder clots than ordinary, and partly frothy. Warm vinegar was injected with¬ out doing, any manifelt harm.—Two drams of fugar diffolved in an ounce of water were injedted into the jugular vein of a dog without any hurt. Thefe are the refults of the experiments where faline fubftances were injefted into the veins. Many acrids proved equally fatal. A decodlion of two drams of rvhite hellebore, injedled into the jugular vein of a dog, killed him like a ftroke of lightning. Another dog was killed in a moment by an injedlion of an ounce of reftified fpirit of wine in which a dram of camphor was diffolved.—Ten drams of highly redtified fpirit of wine, injedled into the crural vein of a dog, killed him in a very fhort time : he died quietly, and licking his jaws wdth his tongue, as if with pleafure. In the vena cava and right ventricle of the heart the blood was coagula¬ ted into a great many little clots.—Three drams of rec¬ tified fpirit of wine injedled into the crural vein of a fmall dog made him apopledtic, and as it were half dead. In a little time he recovered from the apoplexy, and be¬ came giddy 3 and, when he endeavoured to go, reeled and fell down. Though his itrength increafed by de¬ grees, yet his drunkennefs continued. His eyes were red and fiery 3 and his fight fo dull that he fcarce feem¬ ed to take notice of any thing : and when he was beat, he would fcarce move. However, in four hours he be¬ gan to recover, and would eat bread when offered him 3 the next day he was out of danger.—Five ounces of flrong white wine injedled into the crural vein of a dog made him very drunk for a few hours, but did not pro¬ duce any other confequences. An ounce of ffrong de- 3 1 P O t codlion of tobacco Snjefted into a vein killed a dog in a very Ihort time in terrible convulfions. Ten drops of oil of fage rubbed with half a dram of fugar, and thus diflblved in water, did no harm by being injected into the blood. Mercury, though feemingly void of all acrimony, proves alfo fatal when injected into the blood. Soon after the injection of hall an ounce of this mineral into the jugular vein of a dog, he was feized with a dry fhort cough which came by intervals. About two days after, he was troubled with a great difficulty of breath¬ ing, and made a noife like that of a broken-winded horfe. There was no tumour about the root of the tongue or the parotid glands, nor any appearance of a falivation. In four days he died 3 having been for twa days before fo much troubled with an orthopnoea, that he could fieep only when he leaned his head againft fomething. When opened, about a pint of bloody fe- rum was found in the thorax, and the outfide of the lungs in moft places was bliftered. Some of the bliilers were larger and others fmaller than a pea, but molt of them contained mercurial globules. Several of them were broken 3 and upon being preiTed a little, the mer¬ cury ran out with a mixture of a little fanies 5 but upon llronger preffure, a confiderable quantity of fanies iffued out. In the right ventricle of the heart lome particles of quickfilver were found in the very middle of the coa¬ gulated blood lodged there, and the fame thing alfo was obferved in the pulmonary artery. Some blood alfo was found coagulated in a very llrange and unufual manner between the columnae of the right ventricle of the heart, and in this a greater quantity of quickfilver than any¬ where elfe. In the left ventricle was found a very tena¬ cious blood, coagulated, and flicking to the great valve, including the tendons of it, and a little refembling a po¬ lypus. No mercury could be found in this ventricle by the moft diligent fearch 3 whence it appears, that the mercury had paffed no farther than the extremities of the pulmonary artery, where it had ftuck, and occalion- ed fatal obftrudlions.—In another dog, which had mer¬ cury injecfted into the jugular, it appears to have paffetl the pulmonary artery, as part of it was found in the ca¬ vity of the abdomen, and part alfo in lome other ca¬ vities of the body. All the glandules were very tur¬ gid and full of liquor, efpecially in the ventricles of the brain, and all round there was a great quantity of ferum. In like manner, oil of olives proves certainly fatal when injefled into the blood. Half an ounce of this, injedled into the crural vein of a dog, produced no ef- fedl in half a quarter of an hour : but after that, the animal barked, cried, looked dejedled, and fell into a deep apoplexy 3 fo that his limbs were deprived of all fenfe and motion, and were flexible any way at plea¬ fure. His refpiration continued very ftrong, with a fnorting and wheezing, and a thick humour fometimes mixed with blood flowing out of his mouth. He loft all external fenfe: the e^s, though they continued open, were not fenfible of any objedls that were put to them 3 and even the cornea could be touched and rubbed, without his being the leaft fenfible of it ; his eyelids, however, had a convulfive motion. The hearing was. quite loft 3 and in a ffiort time the feeling became fo dull, that his claws and ears could be bored with red- hot pincers without his expreffing the leaft fenfe of pain. Sometimes. Poifon. POT [ 54 ] POT Poifoii. Sometimes be was feized with a convulfive motion of v ^ the diaphragm and mufcles i'ubfervient to refpiration upon which he would bark ftrongly, as if he had been awake : but this waking was only in appearance ; 'for all the time of this barking he continued as infenfible as ever. In three hours he died ‘7 and on opening his body, the bronchiae were filled with a thick froth.— An ounce of oil of olives injected into the jugular of another dog killed him in a moment •, but a thhd lived an hour after it. He w^ Seized with great fleepi- nefs, fnor^”~ arcj wheezing, but did not bark like the firfl. In all of them a great quantity of thick froth was found in the lungs. We come now to fpeak of thofe poifons which prove mortal (b) when taken by the mouth. The principal of thefe are, arfeniq corrofive fublimate or muriate of mercury, glafs of antimony, and lead. What the ef- fe£ls of thefe fubftances are when injedded into the blood, cannot be related, as no experiments feem to have been made with them in that way, excepting antimony, whole effefts have been already mentioned. The effedls of opium, w’hen injected into the veins, feem to be fimilar to its effefts when taken by the mouth. Fifty grains of opium, diffolved in an ounce of water, were injedded into the crural vein of a cat. Immediately after the operation flie feemed much dejedfted, but did not cry ; only made a low, interrupted, and complaining noife. This w7as lucceeded by trembling of the limbs, convullive motions of the eyes, ears, lips, and almoft all parts of the body, with violent convulfions of the bread. Sometimes (lie would rajfe up her head, and feem to look about her; but her eyes were very dull, and looked dead. Though lire was let loofe, and had nothing tied about her neck, yet her mouth was fo filled with froth, that lire wras almoft ftrangled. At laft, her convulfive motions con- tinu’ng, and being feized with ftretching of her limbs, lire died in a quarter of an hour. Upon opening the body, the blood was found not to be much altered from its natural ftate.- A dram and a half of opium was diffolved in an ounce and a half of water, and then in¬ jected into the crural vein of a lufty ftrong dog. He ftruggled violently ; made a loud noife, though his jaws were tied ; had a great difficulty of breathing, and palpitation of the heart, with corfvulfive motions of almoft all parts of his body. Thefe fymptoms were fucceeded by a profound and apopleftic fteep. Having untied him, he lay upon the ground without moving or making any noife, though feverely beaten. About half an hour after he began to recover fome fenre, and would move a little when beaten. The fieepinefs ftill decreafed j fo that in an hour and a half he would make a noife and walk a little when beat. However, he died Poifbn. in four days, after having voided a quantity of fetid'“““''V-" excrements, in colour refembling the diluted opiufn he had fwallowed. I he oil of tobacco has generally been reckoned a very violent poifotl when introduced into the blood ; but from fne abbe Fontana’s experiments, it appears to bn tar inferior in ftrength to the poifon of ticu- Iias, or to the bite of a viper. A drop of oil of to¬ bacco was put into a fmall inciiion in the right thigh of a pigeon, and in two minutes the animal could not Hand on its right foot. The fame experiment was repeated on another pigeon, and produced exaClly the fame effeCl. In another cafe, the oil was applied to a flight wound in the breaft j three minutes after which, the animal could not ftand on the left foot. This experi¬ ment was alfo repeated a fecond time, with the fame foccefs. A tooth-pick, fteeped in oil of tobacco, and introduced into the mufcles of the breaft, made the animal fall down in a fewr feconds as if dead. Ap¬ plied to two others, they threw7 up feveral times all the food they had eaten. Two others treated in the fame manner, but with empty ftomachs, made many efforts to vomit.—In general, the vomiting was found to be a conftant effeCl of this poifon : but the lofs of motion in the part to which the poifon is applied, was found to be only accidental. None of the animals died by the application of oil of tobacco. Dr Leake however ai- ferts the contrary •, faying, that this oil, wffiich is ufed by the Indians in poiioning arrow's, when infufed into a frefti wound, befides ficknefs and vomiting, occafions convulfions and death. See PraEtical PJJoij on Dfeafes of the Vifcera, p. 67. The pernicious effefts of laurel-water are taken no¬ tice of under the article Medicine, n° 261. The ac¬ count is confirmed by the experiments of the Abbe Fontana ; who tells us, that it not only kills in a fliort time, when taken by the mouth, but that, v.ffien given in fmall dofes, the animal writhes fo that the head joins the tail, and the vertebra; arch out in fuch a manner as to ftrike with horror every one who fees it. In order to afeertain the effects of this water when taken into the blood, our author opened the fkin of the lower belly of a pretty large rabbit, and made a wound in it about an inch long ; and having flightly wounded the mufcles under it in many parts, applied twro or three tea fpoon- fuls of laurel-wTater. The animal fell dowm convulfed in lefs than three minutes, and died foon after. The experiment w7as repeated with fimilar fuccefs in other animals : but w7as always found to aft rnoft powerfully, and in the ftiorteft time, when taken by the mouth, or injefted * See (b) Of all poifons * thofe which maybe called culinary are perhaps the moft deftruftive, becaufe they are f See generally the leaft fufpefted. All copper f veffels, therefore, and veffels of bell-metal, which contains copper,o/C&/- Treatife on ^10u^ ^al<^ Even the common earthen-ware, when they contain acids, as in pickling, become very per-.Pm Bifcafis of n^cl'ous) as riiey are glazed with' lead, which in the fmalleft quantity when diffolved is very fatal •, and even tin, the the Vifcera. leaft exceptionable of the metals for culinary purpofes except iron, is not always quite free of poilonous qualities, it having been found to contain a fmall portion of aifenic. Muftirooms and the common laurel are alfo very fatal. The bitter almond contains a pcifon, and its antidote likewife. The cordial dram ratafia, much ufed in France, is a flow poiion, its flavour being procured from the kernels of peach, black cherry ftones, &c.—The fpirit of lauro cerafus is peculiarly fatal. The adulteration of bread, beer, wine, porter, &c. produces very fatal confe- quences, and merits exemplary punifliment. Next to culinary poifons, the abufe of medcines deferves particular attention. 2 p O I [ 55 ] P O I Poifon. injected by way of clyfter. From thefe experiments, v—^ however, he concluded, that laurel-wafer would kill by being injected into the blood : but in this he was deceived; for two rabbits had each of them a large tea- fpoonful injefted into the jugular vein, without any in¬ convenience, either at the time of injedlion or alter- wards. It proved innocent alfowhen applied to the bare nerves, and even when introduced into the medullary fubftance. We ought now to give fome account of the proper antidotes for each kind of poifon ; but from what has been related eoncerning the extreme activity of lome of them, it is evident that in many cafes there can be but very little hope. People are moft apt to be bit by ferpents in the legs or hands ; and as the poifun, from the Abbe Fontana’s experiments, appears to a£f only in confequerrce of being abforbed into the blood, it is plain, that to prevent this abforption is the chief indi¬ cation of cure. We have recommended feveral methods for this purpofc under the article Medicine, n°4o8.; but the Abbe Fontana propofes another not mentioned there, namely, ligature. This, if properly applied be¬ tween the wounded part and the heart, muff certainly prevent the bad effeffs of the poifon: but then it tends to produce a diieale almoft equally fatal; namely, a gan¬ grene of the part j and our author gives in dances of animals being thus deftroyed after the e it efts of the poifon were prevented ; for which reafon he prefers am¬ putation. But the good effefts of either of thefe me¬ thods, it is evident, mult depend greatly on the nature of the part wounded, and the time w'hen the ligature is applied, or the amputation performed. If the teeth of the ferpent, or the poifoned arrow, happens to ftrike a large vein, the only poffibility of efcaping inltant death is to cornprefs the trunk of the vein above the wounded place, and to enlarge the wTound, that the blood may flow freely, and in large quantity, in order to wafh away the poifon, and difeharge the infefted parts of the blood itfelf. If this is neglected, and the perfon falls into the agonies of death, perhaps ftrongly ftimulating medicines given in large dofes, and continued for a length of time, may enable nature to counteraft the vi¬ rulence of the poifon. For this purpofe volatile alkalies feem molt proper, as afting fooneft, (fee Medicine) j and perhaps a combination of them with ether might be advantageous, as by the volatility of that medicine the activity of the alkali would probably be increafed. In the Philofophical Tranfaftions, wre have an account of the recovery of a dog feemingly by means of the volatile alkali, when probably he was in a dying condition. This dog indeed feems to have had a remarkable ftrength of conftitution. The poor creature had firft got two ounces of the juice of nightfhade, wFich he bore without any inconvenience. An equal quantity of the juice of hemlock was then given him without effeft. He then got a lafge dofe of the root ox wolfsbane with the fame fuc- cefs. Two drams of white hellebore root were next given. Thefe caufed violent vomitings and purgings, but Hill he outlived the operation. He was then made to fwallow five roots of the colchicum, or meadow-falfron, dug frefh out of the earth. The effeft of thefe was limi- lar to that of the white hellebore, but ftill he did not die. Laftly, he got two drams of opium and he even outlived this dofe. He was firft call into a deep fleep by it } but foon awaked, and was feized with violent vomitings and purgings, which carried off the efftcl of Poitbn. the opium. Seeing then that the animal had refitted the '-“y-"— moft violent poifons, it was relolvcd to try the effects of the bite of a viper ; and he was accordingly bit three or four times on the belly a little below the navel by one enraged. The immediate confequence of this was an in¬ cipient gangrene in the parts adjoining to the wound, as appeared by the rifing of little black bladders filled with a famous matter, and a livid colour which propagated itfelf ail around. The motion of the heart became very faint and irregular, and the animal lay without ftrength or fenfation, as if lie had been feized with a lethargy or apoplexy. In this condition his wound was cupped and Icarified, and Venice treacle (a famous antidote) ap¬ plied to it. In two hours after this all the fymptoms were increafed, and he feemed to be nearly dead; upon which half a dram of volatile fait of hartfhorn mixed with a little broth was poured down his throat; and the confequence v as, that in a fhort time he was able to ftand on his feet and walk. Another dofe entirely dif- pellcd his lethargy, and the heart began to recover its ftrength. However, he continued very weak 5 and though he ate no folid meat for three days, yet at the end of that time his ftrength was evidently increafed. The firft day he drank water plentifully and greedily, and on the fecond day he drank lome broth. On the third day he began to eat folid meat, and feemed out of danger 5 only fome large and foul ulcers remained on that part of the belly which was bit, and before thefe w^ere healed he was killed by another dog. From comparing this with lome other obfervations, indeed, it would ieem that volatile alkali is the Left an¬ tidote againft all poifons which fuddenly kill by a mix¬ ture with the blood, and even of fome others. Indeed, its effects in curing the bite of fnakes feems to be put beyond all doubt, by a paper in the 2d volupie of the Afiatic Refearches, p. 323. “ From the effeft; of a ligature applied between the bitten part and the heart (fays Mr Williams, the author of the paper,) it is evident that the poifon diffufes itfelf over the body by the re¬ turning venous blood ; deftroying the irritability, and rendering the fyftem paralytic. It is therefore pro¬ bable, that the volatile cauftic alkali, in refitting the difeafe of the poifon, does not aft fo much as a fpecific in deftroying its quality, as by counterafting the effeft on the fyftem, by ftimulating the fibres, and preferring that irritability which it tends to deftroy.” But whatever be the mode of its operation, the me¬ dicine is unqueftionably powerful. Mr Williams ufed either the volatile cauftic alkali, or eau-de-luce ; the for¬ mer of which he feems to have preferred. Of it he gave 60 drops as a elefe in water, and of the eau-de-luce he gave 40, at the fame time applying fome of the me¬ dicine to the part bitten, and repeating the dofe as he found occafion. Of feven cafes, feme of which were apparently very defperate, only one died, and that appears to have been occafioned by bad treatment after the cure. Many of the patients wTere perfeftly recovered in feven or eight minutes, and none oi them required more than two hours : On the whole, Mr Williams’ fays that he “ neve^ knew an inftance of the volatile cauftic alkali failing in its effect, where the patient has been able to fwallow it.” Dr Mead afferts, that the alkali counter- afts the deadly effects of laurel-water; w'e have feen its effefts in curing the bite of a viper, and of fnakes; and from.. p o i r 56 i p o 1 Poxfon. from Dr Wolfe’s experiments on Kydropliobous pa- tients, it may even claim fome merit there. Still, however, there is another method of attempting a cure in fuch deplorable cafes ; and that is, by injecting into the veins any thing which will not deftroy life, but will deftroy the effects of the poifon. It is much to be regretted, that in thofe cruel experiments which we have already related, the intention feems almoft al¬ ways to have been to kill the animal at all events j whereas, it ought to have been to preferve him alive, and to afcertain what medicines could be fafely inject¬ ed into the blood, and what could not, with the effedts which followed the injeCtion of different quantities, none of which wrere fufficient to deftroy life. But in the w7ay they were managed, fcarce any conclufion can be drawn from them. Indeed it appears that little good is to be expeCted from this mode; it is mere fpecula- tion, and future experiments muft fhow whether it ever ftiall be ufed for the cure of poifons, or for any other purpofes : its being now totally laid afide, feems to mili¬ tate ftrongly againft the efficacy of it j befides, the ex¬ treme cruelty of the operation will ever be a ftrong bar to its general introduction . See Injection. There ftill remains another method of cure in defpe- rate cafes, wdien there is a certainty that the whole mafs of blood is infeCted j and that is, by the bold at¬ tempt of changing the whole difeafed fluid for the blood of a found animal. Experiments of this kind have alfo been tried 5 and the method of making them, together with the confequences of fuch as are recorded in the Philofophical TranfaClions, wre fhall notice under the article Transfusion. Dr Mead, finding that many pretenders to philofo- phy have called the goodnefs of the Creator in queftion, for having created fubftances whofe -manifeft and obvi¬ ous qualities are noxious and deftrudive, remarks, by ■way of anfwer, that they have alfo falutary virtues. But, befides their phyfical effeCts, they are likewife food for animals which afford us good nourifliment, goats and quails being fattened by hellebore, ftarlings by hemlock, and hogs innocently eating henbane ; befides, fome of thofe vegetables, which were formerly thought poifon- ous, are now ufed in medicine, an^ future difcoveries may probably increafe the number. The poifon of many vegetables is their only defence againft the ra¬ vages of animals •, and by means of them wTe are often enabled to defend ufeful plants from the deftroying in- fed: fuch as by fprinkling them with effential oil of turpentine ; and by means of fome fubftances poifonous to them, w7e are enabled to deftroy thofe infefts w'hich in- feft the human body, and the bodies of domeftic animals, &c.—As for poifonous minerals, arfenic for example, Dr Mead obferves, that it is not a perfeCt mineral, but only an aftive fubftance, made ufe of by nature in pre¬ paring feveral metals in the earth, wdnch are of great fervice to mankind; and, after confirming this by feve¬ ral inftances, he concludes by faying, the cafe will be found much the fame in all natural produftions of this kind. As for poifonous animals, &c. their noxious qua¬ lities may eafily be accounted for, by refle61ing that it is their only mode of felf-defence. POISON of Copper. This metal, though when in an undiffolved ftate it produces no fenfible effedls, becomes exceedingly aftive when diffolved ; and fuch is the faci¬ lity with which the folution is effefted, that it becomes 4 a matter of fome confequence to prevent the metal from Polfon. being taken into the human body even in its proper y—- form. It doth not, how'ever, appear that the poifon of copper is equally pernicious with thoie of arfenic or lead; much lefs wuth fome others treated of in the laft article. . The reafon of this is, that it excites vomiting fo fpeedily as to be expelled, even though taken in con- fiderable quantity, before it has time to corrode the fto- mach. . Roman vitriol, which is a folution of copper in the vitriolic acid, has been ufed as a medicine in fome difeafes with great fuccefs. Verdigrife alfo, which is another very active preparation of the metal, has been by fome phyficians prefcribed as an emetic, efpecially in cafes where other poifons had been fwallowed, in order to procure the moft fpeedy evacuation of them by vomit. Where copper is not ufed with this view, it has been employed as a tonic and antifpafmodic, with which it has been admitted into the Edinburgh Difpenfatory un¬ der the title of Cuprum Ammoniacale. The eft efts of the metal, however, when taken in a pretty large quan¬ tity, and in a diffolved ftate, or when the ftomach abounds with acid juices fufficient to diffolve it, are very difagreeable and even dangerous ; as it occafions violent vomitings, pains in the ftomach, faintings, and fome- times convulfions and death. The only cure for thefe fymptoms is to expel the poifon by vomiting as foon as poflible, and to bbtund its acrimony •, for which purpofe drinking wrarm milk will probably be found the moft ef¬ ficacious remedy. In order to prevent the entrance of the poifon into the body, no copper veffels ftiould be ufed in preparing food but fuch as are either w7ell tinned or kept exceedingly clean. The praftice of giving a fine blue or green colour to pickles, by preparing them in copper veffels, ought not to be tolerated ; for Dr Falconer, in a treatife on this fubjeft, affures us, that thefe are fometimes fo ftrongly impregnated by this me¬ thod of preparing them, that a fmall quantity of them will produce a flight naufea. Mortars of brafs or bell-metal ought for the fame reafon to be avoided, as by this means a confiderable quantity of the pernicious me¬ tal may be mixed wuth our food, or with medicines. In other cafes, an equal caution ought to be ufed. The cuftom of keeping pins in the mouth, of giving copper halfpence to children to play with, &c. ought to be avoided ; as thus a quantity of the metal may be.infen- fibly taken into the body, after which its effefts muft be uncertain. It is proper to obferve, however, that cop¬ per is much more eafily diffolved when cold than when hot ; and therefore the greateft care fliould be taken ne¬ ver to let any thing defigned for food, even common wa¬ ter, remain long in copper veffels when cold ; for it is oblerved, that though the confeftioners can fafely pre¬ pare the moft acid fyrups in clean copper veffels without their receiving any detriment whilft hot, yet if the fame fyrups are allowed to remain in the veffels till quite cold they become impregnated with the pernicious qualities of the metal. To what has now been faid relative to the effefts of mineral poifons, w7e fhall add an account of fome experi¬ ments, fhowing that a mineral poifon may produce fudden and violent death, although the noxious matter cannot be detefted by chemical tefts in the contents of the fto¬ mach. As the fubjeft of this inveftigation is of great importance in many points of view, we fhall make no apology for laying the whole detail before our readers without Pol for. POT [ 57 ] P O I without abridgement. The experiments were made by by the nitrate of illver, (hewing that it contained muri- iWom. Dr Boftock ot Liverpool, and the account of them is atic acid. s-—Y—* given by the author in a letter to the editor of the Edin¬ burgh Med. and Surg. Journal, v. 14. “ In compliance with your requelt, I fend you an ac¬ count of feme of the experiments which I made to il- luftrate the queftion, which was propoled to me at the late memorable trial at Lane after, whether it was pof- fible that a mineral poifon might produce a hidden and violent death, and yet be afterwards incapable of detec¬ tion in the contents of the ftomach ? You have al¬ ready feen, in the pamphlet that was published by Drs Gerard and Rutter, Mr Hay, and myfelf, the effect was produced upon dogs by corrohve fublimate. We there relate the refult of two experiments, in which it was given to dogs in folution j vomiting, purging, and the fymptoms of violent pain enfued, which after fome hours rvere terminated by death. The contents of the ftomach, it is there dated, w ere analyfed by me, but none ©f the fublimate could be detected. In the fird experi¬ ment, i|- grains of the fait w7ere given, and in the fecond 4 grains 5 this latter being the larger quantity, and allb the one in which the procefs was conduced with the mod accuracy, I (hall condne myfelf to relate the cir- cumdances of this alone. “ When the domach of the dog was opened, a fmall quantity of water wTas added to wadi out its contents more completely, making the whole fomewhat iefs than one ounce. It was deeply tinged with blood, and I let it remain at red for 30 hours, in order that the colour¬ ing matter might fubfide from it. It had then acquired a very foetid fmell, and not being much clearer than at fird, I added to it about an equal quantity of water, and paffed it, fird through a linen drain, and afterwards through a paper filter. It wTas now nearly tranfparent, but (lightly tinged with blood. “ A folution of corrofive fublimate wras prepared, containing of its wreight of the fait. Into a quan¬ tity of this folution the recently prepared muriate of tin was dropped, which produced an immediate and very copious precipitation. Caudic potafls alfo threw dowm a precipitate, although in fmall quantity. The fame teds were then added to the duid taken from the do¬ mach, but no effect w’as produced by the muriate of tin for fome hours, w7hen at length it became, in fome de¬ gree, opake. The effect here, both as to time and the nature of the appearance, was quite different from the precipitate in the folution of corrofive fublimate, and I confidered it as depending upon the _a£tion of the mu¬ riate of tin upon the mucus. In proof of this, when the domach fluid had potafli added to it, inftead of having a precipitate thrown down, it wras rendered more tranl- parent than before the experiment. The folution of corrofive fublimate wras fubje&ed to the aftion of gal- ■vanifm, by having a piece of gold placed in it, clafped by zinc wire) in an hour the gold w7as obvioufly whi¬ tened by the precipitation of the mercury upon it. The fluid taken from the ftomach was fubmitted to the fame jprocefs for three hours, but no effect was produced (c). The fluid from the domach did not exhibit either acid $r alkaline properties $ it was copioufly precipitated Vol. XVII. Part I. “ On the following day, a (light brown precipitate had fubfided from the domach fluid, and the whole waS became very opake. The precipitate was diffolved by potaih, at the time fame that the fluid was rendered more tranfparent. It was become extremely putrid. The putridity increafed : and, in two days more, a feum w7as formed on the furface, and the (ides of the glafs were alfo encruded with a gray matter. The experiments wTere performed between the 17th and 22d of Augud. “ The following experiments w7eic then made on the corrofive (ublimate, with every poffible attention to accu¬ racy. Two grains of the (alt were diffolved in 600 grains of diddled w7ater. This I call folution N° 1. Ten grains of N° 1. w7ere then added to 90 grains of vrater, forming folution N° 2. in which the (laid would con¬ tain -fo^s-o of its weight of the fublimate. Into 10 drops of N° 2. two drops of the muriate of tin were add¬ ed, and caufed a very obvious precipitate. Ten grains of N° 2. wrere added to 90 grains of diddled water, ma¬ king the duid to contain of its weight of the fait. Into 10 drops of this folution, tw7o drops of the muriate of tin wTere added, and an immediate gray cloud was perceptible in the duid, although no precipitate w7aV thrown dowm. The'galvanic procefs was repeated with the folution N° 3.", it. remained fix hours, and I thought I perceived a whitenefs on one part of the gold ; but it w7as not very diditnffly vilible. “ From thefe experiments, we may draw the following conclufions:— “ 1. The fiuid taken from the dog’s domach contain¬ ed muriatic acid, probably in the form of common fait, and animal matter, probably mucus, in confiderabia quantity. “ 2. The teds that were employed to difeover the corrofive fublimate, were capable of detecting it in a duid, wrhen it compofed only Tooivs-o weight. “ 3. Thefe teds did not deteft any corrodve fublimate in the fluid taken from the dog’s ftomach ; it may there¬ fore be concluded, “ 4. That an animal may be fuddenly killed by re¬ ceiving a metallic poifon into the ftomach, and yet that the niceft teds may not be able to detedt any por¬ tion of the poifon after death, in the contents of the domach. “ This conclufion appears incontrovertible; and though fome analogous fadts had occafionally been no¬ ticed *, it is fo different from the generally received # opinion upou the fubjedl, that I think it mud have con- mu ke Ve~ fiderable influence on all future judicial proceedings, in nenidaii W'hich the quteftion of poifoning is agitated.” Accufa- Poison of Lead. See Medicine, N° 303. PoiSVN-Tree. See Rhus, Botany Index. POISON-Tree of Java, called in the Malayan lan¬ guage bohun upas, is a tree which has often been de- feribed by naturalifts $ but its exiftence has been very generally doubted, and the deferiptions given of it, con¬ taining much of the marvellous, have been often treated as idle fiddions. N. P. Foerfch, however, in an account of it, written in Dutch, afl'erls that it does exid 5 and H tells (c) This experiment was performed at the fuggeilion of Dr Wollafton. poi r 58 1 p o 1 tells us, that he once doubted it as much as any perfon ; but, determined not to truii general opinions, he made the moil particular inquiries poflible ; the refultof which was, that he found that it is fituated in the illand of Java, about 27 leagues from Eatavia, 14 from Soura Charta, the emperors feat, and about 19 from Tinkjoe, the refidence of the fultan of Java. It is furrounded on ail rides by hills and mountains, and the adjacent country for 12 miles round the tree is totally barren. Our author fays he has gone all round the fpot at about 18 miles from the centre, and on all rides he found the country equally dreary, which he aferibes to its noxious effluvia. The poifon procured from it is a gum, iffuing from between the bark and the tree ; and it is brought by malefactors who have been condemned to death, but who are allowed by this alternative to have a chance for their life. ,An old ecclefiariic, our author informs us, dwelt on the outride of the furrounding hills, whofe bu- iinefs it was to prepare the criminals for their fate, if death riiould be the confequence of their expedition. .And indeed fo fatal are its effluvia, that he acknowledged that fcarcely two out of 20 returned from above 700 whom he had difmill'ed. Mr Foerfch farther tells us, that he had feen feveral of the criminals who had returned, and who told him, that the tree itands on tire borders of a rivulet, is of a mid¬ dling rize, and that five or fix young ones of the fame kind Hand dole to it. They could not however, fee any other plant or fflrub near it j and the ground was of brorvnifh fand, full of Hones and dead bodies, and dif¬ ficult to pafs. The Malayans think this tract was thus rendered noxious and uninhabitable by the judgement of God, at Mahomet’s defire, on account of the fins of the inhabitants. No animal whatever is ever feen there ; and fuch as get there by any means never return, but have been brought out dead by fuch of the criminals as have thetnfelves efcaped death. Our author relates a circumftance which happened in the year 1775, to about 400 families (1600 fouls), who refufed to pay fome duty to the emperor, and who were in confequence declared rebels and banithed •, they petitioned for leave to fettle in the uncultivated parts round Upas: the coufequence of which was, that in lefs than twro months their number was reduced to about 300 fouls, -who begged to be reconciled to the emperor, and were again received under his proteftion. Many of thefe furvivors Mr Foerfch faw, and they had juft the appearance of perfons tainted with an infeCti- ous diforder. With the juice of this tree arrows, lancets, and other offenfive weapons, are poifoned. With lancets thus poi- foned, Mr Foerfch obfqrves, that he faw 13 of the em¬ peror’s concubines executed for infidelity to his bed in February 1776. They W’ere lanced in the middle of their breafts; in five minutes after which they were feized with a tremor and fubfultus temlinum, and in 15 minutes they were dead. Their bodies were full of livid fpots, like thofe of petechice, their faces fwelled, cole, r blue, and eyes yellow', &c. Soon after he faw feven Malayans executed in the fame way, and faw the fame effefts follow j on which he refolved to try it on other animals, and found the operation fimilar on three puppies, a cat and, a fowl, none of wdiich fur- vived more than 13 minutes. He alfo tried its effects internally on a dog feven months old j the animal be- Poifon. came delirious, wras feized with convulfions, and died in half an hour, h rom all which our author concludes, that it is the moll violent of all vegetable poilons, and that it contrioutes greatly to the unheallhineF of the iiland in wnich it grows. Ey means of it m any cruel and treacherous murders are perpetrated. He adds, that there exiils a fort of cajoe-upas bn the coaft of Maeaffar, the poifon of which, though net near fo violent or malignant, operates nearly in the fame manner. Moil of our readers will probably confider this whole account as highly incredible ; but w^e have to add, that it has bees direclly controverted in all its parts in a memoir of Lambert Nolft, M. D. fellow of the Ba¬ tavian Experimental Society at Rotterdam, (fee Gentle- mail's Mag. May 1794, p. 433). This memoir was procured from John Matthew a Uhyn, who had been 23 years, from 1763 to 1786, refident in the iiland, and therefore had every opportunity of informing himfelf on the fpot. In this memoir we are told, that Foerfch’s account of the tree is extremely fufpicious, from a vari¬ ety of circumflances: 1. Though he had letters of in- troduclion, he went to no confitlerable houfe, and after¬ wards privately withdrew among the Engliih. 2. When the emperor was afkcd refpefting Foerfch, and the fails he relates, he anfwered, that he had never heard either of him br of the tree. 3. The diftances given to mark the fituation of the tree are not accurate. 4. The exe¬ cution of criminals is different from what he reprefents. '• 5. The circumftance of feveral criminals returning when h oerich was there has a fuipicious appearance. 6. There exifts no fuch tradition, as that the tree was placed there hy Mahomet. 7. There were no fuch difturb- ances in 1775 as Foerfch reprefents, the trail to which he alludes having fubmitted to the Hutch Eaft India Company as early as 1756. 8. The Eland is not un¬ healthy, as Foerfch afferts : nor are violent or prema¬ ture deaths frequent. 9. The Javanefe are a curious and intelligent people, and of courfe could not be fo ignorant of this tree if it had any exiflence. 10. The affertions and pretended fails of Foerfch have no co- lateral evidence •, and every thing which we gather from the accounts of others, or from the hiftory of the people, invalidates them. For thefe and other reafons, Dr Nolft concludes, that very little credit is due to the re- prefentations of Foerfch, and that the Eland of Java produces no fuch tree, which, if it really grew there, wmuld be the moft remarkable of all trees. We muft notice alfo, that the account of this very re¬ markable tree has been ftill farther controverted by Sir George Staunton, who, during his flay at Batavia, made the moft particular inquiries concerning it, and found, that the exillence of fuch a tree had never been known there. (EmbaJJy to China). The fabulous hiftory of this tree, however, has produced a moft beautiful de- feription from the mufe of Dr Darwin, whofe harmo¬ nious verfes on the fubjedl we fhail prefent to our readers. Where Teas of glafs with gay re fie 61 ions froile Round the green coafts of Java’s palmy ifie, A fpacious plain extends its upland feene, Rocks rife on rocks, and fountains gufli between 5 Soft Poifoa li Poland. POL [ S9 1 Soft zephyrs blow, eternal biraraers reign, And Ibowei j prolific blefs the foil, in vain ! •—No fpicy nutmeg fcents the vernal gales, Nor towering plantain {hades the mid-day vales j No grafly mantle hides the fable hills, No Howery chaplet crowns the trickling rills ; Nor tufted mofs, nor leathery lichen creeps In ruffet tapeftry o’er the crumbling fteeps. —No ftep retreating, on the fand impreis’d, Invites the vifit of a iecond gueft j No refluent fin the unpeopled dream divides, No revolant pinion cleaves the airy tides; Nos handed moles, nor beaked worms return, That mining pafs the irremeable bourn.— Fierce in dread filence on the blafted heath Fell Upas fits, the Hydra-tree of death. Lo ! from one root, the envenom’d foil below, A thoufand vegetative ferpents grow j In {Fining rays the fcaly monfter fpreads O’er ten fquare leagues his far-diverging heads j Or in one trunk entwifts his tangled form, Looks o'er the clouds, and hiffes in the ilorm. Steep’d in fell poifon, as his fharp teeth part, A thoufand tongues in quick vibration dart; Snatch the proud eagle towering o’er the heath, Or pounce the lion, as he {talks beneath j Or drew, as marthall’d hods contend in vain, With human ikeletons the whiten’d plain. —Chain’d at his root two fcion-demons dwell, Breathe the faint hits, or try the fluiller yell j Rife fluttering in the air on callow wings, And aim at infecl-prey their little dings. Loves of the Plants, canto iii. POLACRE, a diip with three mads, ufually navi¬ gated in the Levant and other parts of the Mediterra¬ nean. Thefe vefiels are generally furniflied with fquare fails upon the mainmad, and lateen fails upon the fore- mad and mizenmad. Some of them, however, cany fquare fails upon all the three mads, particularly thole of Provence in France. Each of their mads is com¬ monly formed of one piece, fo that they have neither topmad nor top-gallant-mad ; neither have they any horfes to their yards, becaufe the men dand upon the topfail-yard to loofe or furl the top-gallant-fail, and on the lower yard to reef to loofe, or furl, the topfail, whole yard is lowered fufficiently down for that pur- pofe. POLAND, a country of Europe, in its larged ex¬ tent bounded by Pomerania, Brandenburg, Silefia, and Moravia, to the wed ; and, towards the ead, by part of Piuffia and the Leffer Tartary \ on the north, it has the Baltic, Ruflia, the grand province of Livonia, and Sa- mogitia •, and on the fouth, it is bounded by Beflarabia, Tranfylvania, Moldavia, and Hungary. Geographers generally divide it into the provinces of Poland Proper, Lithuania, Samogitia, Courland, Pruffia, Maffovia, Po- lachia, Polefia, Little Ruffia, called likewife Rujfta Ru¬ bra or Red Ruffia, Pcdolia, and the Ukraine. Now, however, it is very confiderably reduced in extent, as will appear in the courfe of its hidory. For a map of Poland, Lithuania, and Pruffia, fee PI. CCCCXXXIV. With regard to the hidory of Poland, we are not to gather the eaidier part of it from any accounts tranimit- ted to us by the natives. The early hidories of all na- POL tions indeed are involved in fable; but the Poles never Poland, had even a fabulous hidory of their own nation. The t-—* reafon of this is, that it was not the cudom with that nation to entertain itinerant poets for the amufement of the great j for to the fongs of thele poets entertained among other nations we are obliged for the early part of their hidory 5 but this affidance being deficient in Po¬ land, we mud have recourfe to what is recorded con¬ cerning it by the hidorians of other nations. The fovereigns of Poland at fird had the title of duces, p0]jj^ ,-0_ dukes or generals, as if their office had been only to lead vereigns at the armies into the field. The fird of thefe is univerfal- firft only ly allowed to have been Lechus or Lecht; and to ren- der him more illudrious, he is faid to have been a lineal ' defeendant from Japhet the Ion of Noah. According-[.pchus tlra to tome writers, he migrated at the head of a numerous firft duke, body of the defeendants of the ancient Sclav! from fome of the neighbouring nations ; and, to this day, Poland is called by the Tartars the kingdom of Lechus. Buf- ching, however, gives a different account of the origin of the Poles. Sarmatia, he obferves, was an extenfive Country, inhabited by a variety of nations of different names. He fuppofes the Poles to be the defeendants of the ancient Lazi, a people who lived in Colchis near the Pontus Euxinus •, whence the Poles are fometimes called Po/atai. Crolfing feveral rivers, they entered Pcf- Derivation nania, and fettled on the borders of the Warta, while of the diffe- their neighbours the Zechi fettled on the Elbe, in therent names 550th year of Chrift. As to the name of Poland, or °Holand. Foljha, as it is called by the natives, it comes from the Sclavonic word Pole, or Poln, which fignifies a country adapted to hunting, becaufe the whole country was for¬ merly covered with vail forefls, exceedingly proper for that employment. ^ Of the tranfaftions of Lechus during the time that vifermer he enjoyed the fovereignty, we have no certain account, the fetoml His iucceffor was named Vifcimer, who is generally dake. fuppofed to have been the nephew of Lechus. He wras a warlike and fuccefsful prince, fubduing many pro¬ vinces of Denmark, and building the city of Wifmar, fo called from the name of the fovereign. But the Da- nifli hiftorians take no notice of his wars with their country ; nor do they even mention a prince of this name. However, he is faid to have* reigned for a long time with great glory 5 but to have left the people in great diftrefs, on account of the difputes which arole about a fucceffor. After the death of Vifcimer, the nobility were on the Fonn'ou *- point of electing a fovereign, when the people, haraffed vernment by the grievous burdens occafioned by the wars of Vif- changed n»- cimer, unanimoufly demanded another form of govern-t0 an an^<,' ment, that they might no longer be liable to fuffer fromC 1 ;- ambition and tyranny. At firft: the nobility pretended to yield to this humour of the people wfith great reluc¬ tance ; hov/ever, they afterwards determined on fuch a form of government as threw all the pow7er into their own hands. Twelve palatines, or vaivodes, wore cho- fen ; and the Polifh dominions divided into as many provinces. Thefe palatines exercifed a defpotic autho¬ rity wfithin their feveral jurifdidfions, and aggravated the mifery of the people by perpetual wars among themfelves ; upon which th« Poles, wmrn out with op- prelfion, refolved to return to their old form of govern¬ ment. Many affemblies wTere held for this purpofe; but, by reafon of the oppofition of the vaivodes, they H 2 came POL [ 60 ] POL Poland, came to nothing. At laft, however, they call their ^ eyes upon Cracus, or Gracus, whofe wealth and popula- The duk“ rity Paired him to the higher! honours among his aom refto- countrymen. The Poles fay that he was a native of red. Poland, and one of the 12 vaivodes ; but the Bohemi¬ ans affirm that he was a native of their country : how¬ ever, both agree in maintaining, that he was defeended from th# ancient family of the Gracchi in Rome who, they fay, were baniffied to this country. He is faid to have hgnalized himfelf again!! the Franks, whom he overthrew in fome defperate engagements, and after- wards built the city of Cracow with their fpoils. He did not enlarge his dominions, but made his fubjeils happy by many excellent regulations. At laft, after a long and glorious reign, he expired, or, according to fome, was aifaffinated by a nobleman who afpired to the crown. Cracus left three children; Cracus, Lechus, and a daughter named Vanda. The firft fucceeded to the dukedom in virtue of his birthright; but was foon after murdered by his brother Lechus. However, it feems the thoughts of. the crime which he had committed fo difturbed his confcience, that the fecret could not be kept. When it was known that he had been the mur¬ derer of his late fovereign, he was depofed with all pof- f’ble marks of ignominy and contempt, and his filler Vanda declared duchefs. She was a moil beautiful and accomplifhed lady •, and foon after (lie had been raifed to the fovereignty, one Rithogar, a Teutonic prince, fent an ambaflador demanding her in marriage, and threatening war if his propofals were refufed. Vanda marched in perfon again!! him at the head of a numer¬ ous army, and the event proved fatal both to Rithogar and herfelf. The troops of Rithogar abandoned him without ftriking a blow, upon which he killed himfelf in defpair *, and Vanda, having become enamoured of him, was fo much concerned lor his death, that fire drowned herfelf in the river Vilfula or Wefel. From this unfortunate lady the country of Vandajia takes its 7 name. Again abo- The family of Cracus having become extinf! by the iiflied. S Reftoved a fecond time. death of Vanda, the Poles were again left at liberty to choofe a new fovereign or a new form of government. Through a natural levity, they changed the form of go¬ vernment, and reilored the vaivodes notwithflanding all that they had formerly fuffered from them. The confe- quences were the fame as before : the vaivodes abufed their power 5 the people were oppreffed, and the Rate was difiracted between foreign wars and civil conten¬ tions. At that time the Hungarians and Moravians had invaded Poland with a numerous army, and were onpo- fed only by a handful of men almoft ready to furrender at diferetion, when one Premiflaus, a private fol- dier, contrived a llratagem by which the numerous for¬ ces of the enemy were overthrown \ and for his valour was rewarded with the dukedom. We are ignorant of the other tranfaftions of his reign ; but all hiftorians in¬ form us that he died deeply regretted, and without if- fue \ fo that the Poles had once more to choofe a fove¬ reign. On the death of Premiflaus feveral candidates appear¬ ed for the throne \ and the Poles determined to prefer him who could overcome all his competitors in a horfe- race. A Rone pillar was erefted near the capital, on which were laid all the enfigns of the ducal authority; and a herald proclaimed, that he who firft arrived at Poland, that pillar from a river at fome diflance, named Poaderic, ~~ v~~“ was to enjoy them. A Poliffi lord named Lechus was refolved to fecure the vidlory to himfelf by a Rratagem; for, which purpofe he caufed iron fpikes to be driven all over the courfe, referving only a path fon his own horfe. The fraudulent defign took effect in part, all the reil of the competitors being difmounted, and fome feverely hurt by their fall. Lechus, in confequence of this vic¬ tory, was about to be proclaimed duke ; when, unlucki¬ ly for him, a peafant who had found out the artifice op- pofed the ceremony \ and upon an examination of the fa£f, Lechus was torn in pieces, and the ducal authority conferred upon the peafant. The name of the new monarch was alfo Lechus. He attained the fovereignty in the year 774, and conduced himfelf with great wifdom and moderation. Though he poffeffed the qualities of a great warrior, and extended his dominions on the fide of Moravia and Bohemia, yet his chief delight was to make his fubjedls happy by peace. In the decline of life he was obliged to engage in a war with Charlemagne, and is faid by fome to have fallen in battle with that powerful monarch ; though others affert that he died a natural death, having lived fo long that the fprings of life were quite worn out. Lechus III. was fucceeded by his fon Lechus IV. who inherited all his father’s virtues. He fuppreffed an infurrection in the Polifii provinces, by which he ac¬ quired great reputation ; after which he led his army againfi the Greek and Italian legions who had overrun Panonia. He gained a complete vidlory over his ene¬ mies. Nor was his valour more confpicuous in the bat¬ tle than his clemency to the vanqui!hed : for he difmif- fed all his prifoners without ranfom} demanding no other conditions than that they fliould never again di- Rurb the peace of Poland, or the allies of that king¬ dom. This duke is faid to have been endowed with many virtues, and is charged only with the vice of in¬ continence. He left 20 natural children, and only one legitimate fon, named Pof>iel, to whom he left the fo¬ vereignty. Popiel was allb a virtuous and pacific prince, who never had recourfe to arms but through neceflitv. He removed the feat of government from Cracow to Gnefna, and was fucceeded by his nephew Popiel II. a minor. The young king behaved with propriety as long as he was under the tuition of others •, but as foon as he had got the reins of government into his own hands the face of affairs was altered. Lechus III. who, as hath been already mentioned, bad 20 illegitimate children, had promoted them to the government of different provinces j and they had difeharged the duties of their offices in fuch a manner as Riowed that they were worthy of the confidence repofed in them. But as foon as Po¬ piel came of age, being feduced by the advice’ of his wife, an artful and ambitious woman, he removed them from their polls, treated them with the utmoR contempt, and at laR found means to poifon them all at once at an entertainment. A dreadful puniffiment, however, ac¬ cording to the hiRorians of thofe times, attended his treachery and cruelty. The bodies of the unhappy go¬ vernors were left unburiedand from them iffued a fwarm of rats, who purfued Popiel, his wife, and chil¬ dren, wherever they went, and at lafl devoured them. Xhe nation now became a prey to civil difeord at the fams POL [ ] POL Poland. Why the fove reigns cf Poland are called Piajlcs. to Chriftiani- ty introdu¬ ced by Mi- eczilaus I. it Eoleflaus the firft king of Po¬ land. fame time that it was haraffed by a foreign enemy *, and, in •fnort, the date feemed to be on the verge of diffolu- tion, when Pi ait us was proclaimed duke in 830, from whom the natives of ducal or regal dignity were called Yiajles. See Piastus. This excellent monarch died in 861, and was fucceeded by bis fon Ziemovitus, who was of a more warlike difpoiition than his father, and who firft introduced regular difcipline among the Po- liih troops. He maintained a refpettable army, and took great pains to acquire a perfeft knowledge in the art of war. The confequence of this was, that he was victorious in all his battles 3 and retook from the Ger¬ mans and Hungarians not only all that they had gained, but enlarged his dominions beyond what they had been. After his death nothing remarkable happened in Poland till the time of Mieczflaus I. who attained the ducal au¬ thority in 964. He was born blind, and continued fo for feven years : after which he recovered his fight with¬ out ufing any medicine 3 a circumftance fo extraordina¬ ry, that in thofe times of ignorance and fuperitition it was accounted a miracle. In his reign the Chriftian re¬ ligion was introduced into Poland. The moft probable account of the manner in which Chriftianity was intro¬ duced is, that Mieczflaus having by ambafTadors made his addreffes to Daborwka daughter to the duke of Bo¬ hemia, the lady reje&ed his offer unlefs he would fuffer himfelf to be baptized. To this the duke co. ated, and was baptized, after having been mftrudted in the principles of Chriftianity. He founded the archbilhop- rics of Gnefna and Cracow 3 and appointed St Adal¬ bert, fent by the pontiff to propagate Chriftianity in Po¬ land, primate of the whole kingdom. On the birth of his fon Boleflaus he redoubled his zeal 3 founding feve- ral bilhoprics and monafteries 3 ordering likewife that, when any part of the Gofpel was read, the hearers fhould half draw their fwords, in teftimony of their rea- dinefs to defend the faith. But he was too fuperftitious to attend to the duties of a fovereign 3 and therefore fuffered his dominions to be ravaged by his barbarous neighbour the duke of Rullia. Yet, with all his devo¬ tion, he could not obtain the title of king from the pope, though he had warmly folicited it. That title was afterwards conferred on his fon, who fucceeded to all his’dominions. Boleflaus I. the firft king .of Poland, furnamed Chro- bry, fucceeded to the fovereignty in 999. He alfo pro- • feffed and cherilhed Chriftianity, and was a man of great valour and prudence. However, the firft tranfaftion of his reign favoured very much of the ridiculous piety of thofe times. He removed from Prague to Gnefna the remains of a faint which he had purchafed at a confider- able price. The emperor Otho III. made a pilgrimage, on account of a vow, to the tomb of this faint. He was hofpitably received by Boleflaus, whom, in return, he invefted with the regal dignity 3 an aft which was con¬ firmed by the pope. This new dignity added nothing to the power of Boleflaus 3 though it increafed his con¬ fequence with his own fubjefts. He now affefted more ftate than before: his body-guards were confiderably augmented 3 and be was conftantly attended by a nu¬ merous and fplendid retinue whenever he ftirred out of his palace. Thus he infpired his people with an idea of his greatnefs, and confequently of their own import¬ ance j which no doubt was neceffary for the accomplifh- ment of a defign he had formed, namely, an offenfive war with Raffia : hut when he was upon the point of PoIarA fetting out on this expedition, he was prevented by the v J breaking out of a war with the Bohemians. The ele¬ vation of Boleflaus to the regal dignity had excited the envy of the duke of Bohemia, who had folicited the fame honour for himfelf, and had been refufed. His jealoufy was further excited by the conneftion between Bolellaus and the emperor, the former having married Rixa the emperor’s niece. Without any provocation, therefore, or without giving the leaft intimation of his defign, the duke of Bohemia entered Poland at the head of a numerous army, committing everywhere dreadful ravages. Boleflaus immediately marched againft him, con_ and the Bohemians retired with precipitation. Scarcity qUers Bo-, of provifions, and the inclemency of the feafon, prevent- hernia ed Boleflaus at that time from purfuing 3 but as foon as tbefe obftacles were removed, be entered Bohemia at the head of a formidable army, with a full refolution of tak¬ ing ample revenge. The Bohemians were altogether unable to refill 3 neither indeed had they courage to venture a battle, though Boleflaus did all in his power to force them to it. So great indeed was the cowardice of the duke or his army, that they fullered Prague, the capital of the duchy, to be taken after a fiegc of two years 3 having never, during all that time, ventured to relieve it by fighting the Polifh army. The taking of this city svas quickly folio-wed by the reduftion of all the places of inferior note : but though Boleflaus was in poffelfion of almoft all the fortified places in Bohemia, he could not believe his conquefts to be complete until he became rnafter of the duke’s perfon. This unfortu¬ nate prince had ftmt himfirif up with his fon in his only remaining fortrefs of Wiffogrod, where he imagined that he fliould be able to foil all the attempts of the Polifli monarch. In this, however, he found himfelf difap- pointed. Boleflaus invefted the place, and made his ap- pr-oaches with fuch rapidity, that the garrifon, dreading a general affault, refolved to capitulate, and perfifted in their refolution notwithHanding all the entreaties and promifes of the duke. The confequence was, that the unhappy prince fell into the hands of his enemies, and had his eyes put out by Boleflaus 3 after which, his fon Jaremir was put into perpetual and clofe confinement. From Bohemia Boleflaus marched towards Moravia 3 an! Mora- and no fooner did he arrive on the frontier than thevia- whole province fubmitted without a blow. He then re¬ fumed his intention of invading Ruflia ; for which he had now a very fair opportunity, by reafon of a civil war which raged with violence among the children of Duke Volodomir. The chief competitors were Jarillaus and Suantepolk. The latter, having been defeated by his brother, was obliged to take refuge in Poland, where he ufed all the arguments in his powder with King Bole¬ flaus in order to induce him to revenge his caufe. Bo¬ leflaus having already an intention of invading that country, needed but little intreaty 3 and therefore mo¬ ved tosvards Ruflia at the bead of a very numerous ar¬ my : giving out, that he had no other defign than to revenge the injuftice done to Suantepolk. He was met on the banks of the river Bog by Jariflaus at the head of an army much fuperior in number to bis own ; and for fome days the Polilh army was kept at bay by the Ruf- Gains a fians. At laft Boleflaus, growing impatient, refolved 2reat V1C~ to pafs the river at all events 3 and therefore forming his^^f cavalry in the belt manner for breaking the torrent, he fians.. expofed; Po1".n.'! 15 Places Suantepolk on the throne of Ruffia, 16 who at¬ tempts to cut him off with his whole ar¬ ray, but is defeated. r7 A dreadful battle be¬ tween the Ruffians and Poles. 18 Saxony conquered by Bolc- llaus, POL [ 62 expofed his own perfon to the utmoft of its force. En- couraged by his example, the Poles advanced bread- b poffeffed of many virtues. Inftead of ele&ino- him kino- driven out tvrannirft r* She provedfcfdflir tyrannical, and .o partial to ner countrymen the Ger¬ mans, that a rebellion enfued, and (lie was forced to fly to Germany; where ffie obtained the protection of the emperor by means of the immenfe treafures of Boleflaus, which flie had caufed to be tranfported thither before her. Pier bad behaviour and expulfion proved ftill more fatal to the affairs of Cafimir than even that of his fa¬ ther. He was immediately driven out of the kingdom; and a civil war taking place, a great many pretenders to the crown appeared at once. To the miferies occafioned po!a*d by this were added thofe of a foreign war; for the Bo- ftrefi'ed by hemians and Ruffians invaded the kingdom in different foreign ami places, committing the moft dreadful ravages. Thedomeftic confequence of thefe accumulated diftreffes wvs, that the WarS' nobility came at laft to the refolution of recalling Cafi¬ mir, and electing him fovereign. However, before they took this meafure, it was thought proper to fend to Rome to complain of the behaviour of the duke of Bo¬ hemia. The deputies were at firft received favourably: but P O L [ 63 ] POL Poknd. 24 Cafimir re- ca!led and ele^ed king. Poland fub' jedled to the tax cal led Peter- pence. 26 Boleflaus II a valiant and fuccefs- ful prince. 27 Entertains three un¬ fortunate printes. 28 Affords] efteelual fuccour to Jacomir prince of Bohemia, but the influence of the duke’s gold prevailing, no re- drefs was obtained j fo that at laft, without farther ilrug- gle, it tvas refolved to recal Cafimir. The only difficulty was where to find the fugitive prince ; for he had been gone five years from the king¬ dom, and nobody knew the place of his retreat. At laft, by fending an embafty to his mother, it was found out that he had retired into France, where he applied cioleiy to ftudy at the univerfity of Paris. Afterwards he went to Italy ; where, for the fake of fubfiftence, he took upon him the monaftic habit. At that time he had returned to France, and obtained tome preferment in the abbey of Clugni. Nothing now obftrucled the prince’s return but the facred fundi;ion with which he was invefted. However, a difpenfation was obtained from the pope, by which he was releafed from his ec- cleftaftical engagements, on condition that he and all the kingdom ihould become fubjedl to the capitation tax ' called Peter-pence. Some other conditions of lefs con- . fequence were added; fuch as, that the Poles fhould fliave their heads and beards, and wear a white linen robe at feftivals, like other profefibrs of the Catholic religion. Great preparations were made for the recep¬ tion of the young prince: and he was met on the frontier by the nobility, clergy, and forces of the nation; by whom he rvas condudled to Gnefna, and crowned by the primate with more than ufual folemnity. He proved a virtuous and pacific prince, as indeed the diftradled fituation of the kingdom would not admit of the carry¬ ing on of wars. However, Cafimir proved his courage in fubduing the banditti by which the country was over¬ run ; and by marrying the princefs Mary, fifter to the duke of Ruflia, all quarrels with that nation were for the prefent extinguiftied. Upon the whole, the king¬ dom flourifhed during his reign ; and became more re- fpeftable from the wifdom and liability of the admini- ftration than it could have been by many vfeloi-ies. After a happy reign of 16 years, he died beloved and re¬ gretted by all his fubjedls. By the happy adminiftration of Cafimir the kingdom recovered fufficient ftrength to carry on fucceisful wars againft its foreign enemies. Boleflaus II. the ion of Cafimir, an enterprifing and valiant prince, fucceeded to the throne ; and ibon made himfelf fo famous, that three unfortunate princes all took refuge at his court at once, having been expelled from their own dominions by their rebellious fubjedls. Thefe were, .lacomir, fon of Brite- flaus duke of Bohemia ; Bela, brother to the king of Hungary ; and Zaftaus duko of Kiovia, eldeft fon to Jarillaus duke of Ruifia, and coufin to the king of Po¬ land. Boleilaus determined to redrefs all their grievances j but while he deliberated upon the moft proper means for fo doing, the duke of Bohemia, dreading the confe- quence of Jacomir’s efcape, affembled an army, and, without any declaration of war, marched through the Hercynian foteft, defolated Silefia, and laid wafte the frontiers ot Poland with fire and fword. Boleflaus marched againft him with a force greatly inferior j and, by mere dint of fuperior capacity, cooped up his adver- fary in a wood, where he reduced him to the greateft diftrefs. In this extremity the duke fent proposals for accommodation j but they were rejected with difdain by Bofefiaus \ upon which the former, ordering fires to be kindled in his camp, as if he defigned to continue there, removed with the utmoft filence in the night-time j and marc bin u throuph narrow defiles, had advanced fever'd Poland, leagues before Bcfeflaus received advice ot his retreat. / The king purfued him, but in vain j for which reafon he returned, after having ravaged the frontiers ol Mo¬ ravia. The next year he entered Bohemia with a nu¬ merous army ; but the duke, being unwilling to en¬ counter fuch a formidable adverfary, fubmitted to fuch terms as Bofefiaus thought proper to irnpofe. In thefe the king of Poland ftipulated for certain conditions in favour of Jacomir, which he took care to fee punctually executed j after which he determined to march towards Hungary, to afiift the fugitive prince Bela. This prince had been for feme time felicited by a and to Bela party of difaffected nobility to return, as his brother,Fmce o* the reigning king, had alienated the hearts of his fub- ‘'-ufera‘> jects by his tyrannical behaviour : as loon therefore as Boleflaus had finiftied the war in Bohemia, he was fo- licited by Bela to embrace fio favourable an opportunity, and put him in poffefiicn of the kingdom of Hungary. This the king readily complied with, as being agreeable to his own inclinations ; and both princes entered Hun¬ gary by different routes, each at the head of a numer¬ ous body. The king of that country, however, was not difconcerted by fuch a formidable invafion 5 and be¬ ing largely affiited by the emperor, advanced againft his antagonifts with a vaft army \ among whom was a nu¬ merous body of Bohemians, who had come to his afhft- ance, though in dire£t violation of the treaty fubfifling between the duke and the king of Poland. At laft a decifive battle was fought, in which the Germans be¬ haved with the greateft valour, but were entirely de¬ feated through the treachery of the Hungarians, who in the heat of the battle deferted and went over to Bela. Almoft all the foreign auxiliaries were killed on the fpot; the king himfelf was feized, and treated with fuch infelence by his perfidious fubjedts, that he died in a ftiort time of a broken heart j fe that Bela was placed on the throne without further oppoiition, except from a revolt of the peafants, which was foon quelled by the Polifti army. ,0 Bofefiaus, having fucceeded fe happily in thefe txvo He projefts enterprifes, began to look upon himfelf as invincible j the can- and, inftead of defigning only to aftift Zaflaus, as he had firft intended, now projected no lefs than the fub-*' jection of the whole country. He had indeed a claim to the fevereignty by virtue of his defeent from Mary, queen of Poland, fifter to Jariftaus; and this he endea¬ voured to ftrengtlien by marrying a Ruffian princefs himfelf. Having therefore affembled a very numerous and well-difciplined army, he entered the duchy of Kiovia, where he was oppofed by Wiffeflaus, who had ufurped the fovereignty, with a vaft multitude offerees. ,T Boleflaus, however, continued to advance; and the Meets with Ruffian prince being intimidated by the number and Grprjsng. good order of his enemies, deferted his own troops, andl icc£i5’ fled away privately with a flender retinue; upon which his force difperfed themfelves for want of a leader. The inhabitants of the city of Ktovia now called to their afffltance Suantoflaus and Wizevcld two brothers of Wiffeflaus; but thefe princes acting the part of media¬ tors, procured pardon for the inhabitants from Zaftaus their natural fevereign. With the fame facility the two princes recovered all the other dominions belonging to Zaflausonly one city venturing to itand a liege, and that was foon reduced. But in the mean time the king of ?oia'urt. ? O t, [64 of Hungary dying, a revolt enfued, and the two fons of Bela were on the point of being deprived of their paternal dominions. This Boleflaus no (boner heard of than he marched diredlly into Hungary ; where by the terror of his name only, he re-eltablifhed tranquillity, and confirmed the princes in the enjoyment of their kingdom. In the time that this was .doing, Zafiaus was again driven from his territories, all the conquefts that had been formerly made were loft, and Suantoflaus and Wfzevold more powerful than ever. The king’s vigour, however, (bon difconcerted all their meafures. He ravaged all thofe territories which compofed the palatinates of Lufac and Chelm, reduced the (frong city ofWelyn, and tranfported the booty to Poland. The campaign was finilhed by a battle with Wfzevold j which proved fo bloody, that though Boleflaus was victorious, his army was weakened in fuch a manner that he could not purfue his conquefts. In the winter he made nu¬ merous levies; and returning in the fpring to Kiovia, reduced it, after feveral defperate attacks, by famine. On this occafion, inftead of treating the inhabitants with cruelty, he commended their valour, and ftrictly prohibited his troops from pillaging or intuiting them •, diffributing provifions among them with the utmofl li¬ berality. . . This clemency procured the highefl honour to the Krovia, 0£ p0}ancj. pay here produced a molt ter- nble difafter. Kiovia was the moft diffolute, as well as the richeft city, in the north ; the king and all his fol- diers gave themfelves up to the pleafures of the place. Boleflaus himfelf affedted all the imperious (late of an eaftern monarch, and contracted an inclination for the grofieit debaucheries. The confequence had almoft proved fatal to Poland. The Hungarian and Ruffian wars had continued for feven years, during all which time the king had never been at home excepting once for the fhort Ipace of three months. In the mean time the Polifh women, exafperated at hearing that their hufbands had negledled them and connected themfelves with the women of Kiovia, raifed their ilaves to the beds of their mafters j and in fhort the whole fex confpired in one general fcheme of proflitution, in or¬ der to be revenged of the infidelity of their hufbands, excepting one fingle woman, namely, Margaret, the wife of Count Nicholas of Hemboifin, who pieferved her fidelity in fpite of all felicitation. Advice of this ftrange revolution was foon received at Kiovia, where it excited terrible commotions. The foldiers blamed the king for their dishonour forgetting how much they had to ac- cufe their own condutf in giving their wives fuch ex¬ treme provocation. The eflebl of thefe difeontents wTas a general defertion, and Boleflaus faw himfelf fuddenly left almoft alone in the heart of Ruffta ; the foldiers ha¬ ving unanimoufly refolved to return home to take ven¬ geance of their wives and their gallants. A dreadful kind of war now enfued. The women knew that they were to expe6I no mercy from their enraged hufbands, and therefore perfuaded their lovers to take arms in their defence. They themfelves fought by the fide of their gallants with the utmoft fury, and fought out their hufbands in the heat of battle, in or¬ der to fecure themfelves from all danger of punifhment by their death. They were, however, on the point of being fubdued, when Boleflaus arrived with the few re¬ but affiified by a vaft army of Ruffians, 3 POL 32 Reduces enervates himfelf there. , . 33 univeifal defection ofthe Po¬ lifh wo¬ men. 34 A terrible •ivil war anfues. maugng Poles, with whom he intended to take equal vengeance on the Poland. women, their gallants, and his own foldiers who had " * - deferted him. This produced a carnage more dreadful than ever. The foldiers united with their former wives and their gallants sgainlt the common enemy, and fought againfl: Boleflaus and his Ruffians with the fury of lions. At laft, however, the fortune of the king prevailed ; the rebels were totally fubdued, and the few who efcaped the (word were tortured to death, or died in prifon. ^ To add to the calamities of this unhappy kingdom,Refigious the fchifms which for fome time had prevailed in the contenfiofih church of Rome found their way alfo into Poland j and the animofity of parties became aggravated in propor¬ tion to the frivoloufnefs of their differences. By per- verfe accident the matter came at lafl: to be a contention for wealth and power between the king and clergy. - This loon gave occafion to bloodffied 5 and the biihop Boleflaus of Cracow was maffacrerl in the cathedral while he wasdepoied by performing the duties of his office. This and fome other t^ie P°Pe» enormous crimes in a fhort time brought on the moftanc* Tj". fignal vengeance of the clergy. Gregory VII. the popeputun- at that time, thundered out the moll dreadful anathe- der an in- mas againil the king, releafed his fubjeefs from their terdidh allegiance, deprived him of the titles of fovereignty, and laid the kingdom under a general interdict, which the archbilhop of Gnefna faw punctually enforced. To this terrible fentence Boleflaus in vain oppofed his au¬ thority, and recalled the fpirit which had formerly ren¬ dered him fo formidable to the neighbouring Hates. The minds of the people were blinded by fuperltition, fo that they deemed it a lefs heinous crime to rife in rebellion againlt their fovereign than to oppofe the tyranny of the holy fee. Confpiracies were daily formed againlt the per- fon and government of Boleflaus. The whole kingdom became a Icene of confufion, fo that the king could no longer continue with fafety in his own dominions. He fled therefore with his fon Pffieczflaus, and took refuge in Hungary 5 but here alio the holy vengeance of the clergy purfued him, nor did they ceafe perfecuting him ^ till he was brought to a miferable end. Authors differ The king's widely with refpeCt to the manner of his death. Somecxtreme fay that he xvas murdered by the clergy as he was hunt- fs ing 3 others, that he killed himfelf in a fit of dcfpair and one author tells us, that he wandered about in the woods of Hungary, lived like a favage upon wild beads, and was at laft killed and devoured by dogs. The great- eft number, however, tell us, that being driven from place to place by the perfecutions of the clergy, he was at laft obliged to become a cock in a monaftery at Carinlhia, in which mean occupation he ended his days. The deftruflion of Bolellaus was not fufficient to al-The inter- lay the papal refentment. It extended to the whole king-^1^ wnio- dom of Poland. Mieczflaus, the fon of Boleflaus, was^at.^- not fuffered to afeend the throne 3 and the kingdom ^1^011$° continued under the moft fevere interdict:, which could impolitioaS be removed only by the force of gold, and the meft ab- jeCl conceffions. Befides tbc tax called Veter-^ence, new impofitions were added of the moft oppreffive nature 3 till at length the pontLff, having fatiated his avarice, and impoverilhed the country, confented that the bro¬ ther of the deceafed monarch fhould be raifed to the fovereignty, but only with the title of duke. This prince, named Uladijlciis, being of a meek difpofition, with little ambition, thought it his duty to acquiefce implicitly ■v f 0 L 39 UladiHaus becomes fovereign, but is al¬ lowed on¬ ly the title if detke. Poland, implicitly m tlie will of the pope j and therefore accept¬ ed the terms otFered, fending at the fame time an embaf- fy to Rome, earneitly intreating the removal of the in- terdift. The requeit was granted ; but ail his endea¬ vours to recover the regal dignity proved fruitlefs, the pope having, in conjunction with the emperor of Ger¬ many, conferred that honour on the duke of Bohemia. This was extremely mortifying to Uladifiaus, but it was abforbed in conliderations of the ulmoft confequence to himfelf and his dominions. Ruflia took the opportunity sf the late civil difturbances to throw off the yoke ; and this revolt drew after it the revolt of Pruffia, Pomerania, und other provinces. The fmaller provinces, however, were foon reduced ) but the duke had no fooner returned to Poland, than they again rebelled, and hid their fami¬ lies in impenetrable forefts. Uladifiaus marched againft them with a considerable army j but was entirely defeat¬ ed, and obliged to return back with difgrace. Next year, however, he had better fortune ; and, having led againft them a more numerous army than before, they were con¬ tent to fubmit and deliver up the ringleaders of the revolt to be punithed as the duke thought proper. No fooner were the Pomeranians^reduced, than civil diffenfions took place. Sbigneus, the fon of UladiHaus by a Concubine, was placed at the head of an army by the difcontented nobility, in order to fubvert his father’s government, and difpute the title of Boleflaus, the legi¬ timate fon of Uladitlaus, to the fucceffion. The war was terminated by the defeat and captivity of Sbigneus ; who was at Srft confined, but afterwards releafed on condition that he ihould join his father in punilhing the palatine of Cracow. But before this could be done, the palatine found means'to effeift a reconciliation with the duke; with which tlie young princes being difpleafed, a war took place be¬ tween them and their father. The end of all was, tlvat the palatine of Cracow was banifhed, and the princes fub- mitted; after which, Uladillaus, having chaftifed the Pruf- fians and Pomeranians who had again revolted, died in the year 1x03, the 59th of his age. Uladillaus was fucceeded by his fon Boleflaus III. III. divides who divided his dominions equally betwixt his brother Ins dorm- Sbigneus and himfelf. The former being diffatisfied with twixt^Sbi fh^G raifed cabals againft his brother. A civil war reus his S %;ras ^or f°me time prevented by the good offices of the iKegitimate primate : but at laft Sbigneus, having privately ftirred brother and up the Bohemians, Saxons, and Moravians, againft his brother, made fuch formidable preparations as threatened the conqueft of all Poland. Boleflaus, being unprovided with forces to oppofe fuch a formidable power, had re- Courfe to the Ruffians and Hungarians ; who readily em¬ braced his caufe, in expeflation of turning it to their own advantage. The event was, that Sbigneus tvas entirely defeated ; and might eafily have been obliged to furren- Generofity der himfelf at difcretion, had not Boleflaus generoufly yf Bokflaue, left him in quiet poffeffion of the duchy of Mazovia, in and m^rati. prcler to maintain himfelf fuitably to the dignity of his birth. This kindnefs the ungrateful Sbigneus repaid by entering into another confpiracy ; but the plot being dif- Covered, he was feized, banifhed, and declared a traitor if ever he fet foot again in Poland. Even this feverity did not produce the defired effecft : Sbigneus perfuaded the Pomeranians to arm in his behalf; but he was de¬ feated, taken prifoner, and again banifhed. Almoft all the nobility folicited the king to put fudi an ungrateful li-aitor to death ; however, that generous prince could Vol. Xyil. Part l. f G 1 POL 4° Boleflaus himfeif. 4* A civil 4* Jude ot Sjugneus, not think of polluting his hands with the death of his Poland, brother, notwithftanding all he had yet done. Nay, he ~v even took him back to Poland, and appointed him a maintenance fuilable to his rank: but he foon had rea- ^ fon to repent of his kindnefs; for his unnatural brother in who is at a finort time began to raife freth difturbances, in confe- Put t#- quence of which he foon met with the death which he dcferved. Boleflaus was fcarcely freed from the intrigues of his brother, when he found himfelf in greater danger than 44 ever from the ambition of the emperor Henry IV. The ^Tar w,tb. emperor had attacked the king of Hungary, with whomtlie^mpe" Boleflaus was in clofe alliance, and from whom he had jy r received affiftance when in great diftrefs himfelf. The king of Poland determined to affift bis friend; and thei'e- fore made a powerful diverfion in Bohemia, where he re¬ peatedly defeated the Imperialifts : upon which, the em¬ peror collefting all his forces, ravaged Silefia, and even entered Poland, where he laid fiege to the ftrong town of Lubufz ; but was at laft obliged to abandon the en- terprife, after having fuftained much lofs. However, Henry was not difeouraged, but penetrated ftill farther into Poland, and was laying wafte all before him, when the fuperior fkill of Bolellaus compelled him to retire, after having almoft deftroyed his army with fatigue and famine, without once coming to aftion. Enraged at this difappointment, Henry laid fiege to Glogaw, in hope$ of drawing the Poles to an engagement before he fhould be obliged to evacuate the country. The fortifications of the place xvere weak; but the fpirit of the inhabitants fupplied their deficiencies, and they gave the Imperialifts a moft unexpedted and vigorous reception. At laft, how¬ ever, they were on the point of furrendering to fuperior force ; and actually agreed to give up the place, provi¬ ded they did not receive any fuccours during that time. Boleflaus determined, however, not to let fuch a brave garrifon fall a facrifice to their loyalty ; and therefore prevailed on the befieged to break the capitulation ra¬ ther than furrender when they were on the point of be¬ ing delivered. All this was tranfadted with the utmoft fecrecy ; fo that the emperor advanced, without thoughts of meeting with any refiftance, to take poffeffion of the city ; but, being received by a furious difeharge of ar¬ row's and javelins, he was fo incenfed, that he refolved to ftorm the place, and give no quarter. On the ap¬ proach of the army, the Imperialifts were aftoniftied to fee not only the breaches filled up, but new W’alls, fe- cured by a wet ditch, reared behind the old, and ereft- ed during the fufpenfion of hoftilities by the induftry of the befieged. The attack, however, went on ; but the ^ f inhabitants, animated by defpair, defended themfelves Who is with incredible valour, and at laft obliged the Imperia-worftedv lifts to break up the fiege with precipitation. Next day Boleflaus arrived, and purfued the emperor with fuch vigour, that he obliged him to fly with difgrace into his own country. This foon brought on a peace, which was confirmed by a marriage between Boleflaus and the em¬ peror’s lifter. Hitherto the glory of Boleflaus had equalled, or even Boleflaus eclipfed, that of his namefake and predeceffor Boleflaus !’rought the Great; but about the year 1135 he was brought into difficulties and difgrace by his own credulity. He ^ own ^ was impofed upon by an artful ftory patched up by a credulity certain Hungarian ; who infinuated himfelf .fo far into«ncl genes lus affeftiens, that he gave him the government of Wi-rofity* I flic a, POL f 66 ] POL Poland 47 . Poland di¬ vided a- mong the children of Solellaus. 43 A civil war. 49 Uladillaus drives «ut all the reft, jflica, a ftrong town on the river Nida. But the trai¬ tor gave up the place to the Ruffians, who pillaged and burnt it ; carrying the inhabitants at the fame time into flavery. Boleflaus was incenfed, and entered im¬ mediately upon a war with Ruffia, by which means he only heaped one calamity upon another. He received a deputation from the inhabitants of Halitz, to implore his alfiftance in favour of a young prince, who had been banilhed into Poland. Boleflaus marched to their re¬ lief with a choice body of troops; but as he was pre¬ paring to enter the town, he was attacked by the whole Ruffian army, and, after a mod violent conflift, entirely defeated. By this difgrace the duke was fo much af- flifted, that he died in a fhort time, after having reign- ed 36 years. Boleflaus, by his will, left his dominions equally di¬ vided among his four fons. Uladiflaus, the elded, had the provinces of Gracow, Sirad, Lencici, Silefia, and Pomerania. Boleflaus, the fecond fon, had for his fhare the palatinates of Culm and Cujavia, with the duchy of Mazovia. The palatinates of Kalefzh and Pofnania fell to Mieczflaus the third fon ; and to Henry, the fourth fon, were affigned thofe of Lublin and Sando- mir. Cafimir the younged child, then an infant in the cradle, was entirely forgotten, and no proviflon made for him. There have been but very few indances where dominions were thus divided, that the princes remain¬ ed fatisfied with their refpeftive fhares •, neither did the fons of Boleflaus long continue at peace with one an¬ other. By the will of the late duke, all the brothers were obliged to own the fupremacy of Uladiflaus, who was declared duke of all Poland : they were redrained from forming alliances, declaring war, or concluding peace, without his approbation : they were obliged to take the field with a certain number of troops, whenever the duke required it 5 and they were forbid to meddle with the guardianftiip of the infant prince Cafimir, his education being left entirely to the fovereign. The harmony of the princes was fird didurbed by the am¬ bition of Chridina, the wife of Uladiflaus, who formed a fcheme to get poffeflion of all Poland, and deprive the younger children of the benefit of their father’s will. Having obtained her hulhand’s concurrence, flie afiembled the dates of Poland, and made a long fpeech, fhowing the dangers which might arifc from a parti¬ tion oi the ducal dominions among fo many j and con¬ cluded with attempting to fhow the neceffity of revoking the ratification of the late duke’s will, in order to en- fure the obedience of the princes and the tranquillity of the republic. Many of the nobility exprefled their refentment againd this fpeech, and fully refuted every article in it; but they wrere all afterwards gained over, or intimidated by Uladiflaus ; fo that none appeared to take the part of the young princes except a noble Dane, who lod his life for fo doing. Uladiflaus now having got the nobility on his fide, fird drove Boleflaus out of his territories j next, he mrthed againd Henry, and difpoffefled him tilfo, for¬ cing both to take refuge with Mieczflaus in Pofnania, where all the three brothers w^ere befieged. Several of the nobility interpofed, and ufed all their influence to effedd a reconciliation, but in vain 5 for Uladiflaus wras as inexorable as if he had received an injury; and there¬ fore infifled that the befieged princes fliould furrender at difcretion, and fubmit to the will of the conqueror. Thus driven to defpair, the brothers fallxed out, and Poland, attacked the duke’s army with fuch impetuofity, that » J they obtained a "complete victory, and took all his bag¬ gage and valuable eft'e&s. The brothers improved their victory, and laid liege to Cracow. The Ruffians, who had alfifted Uladiflaus at firft, now entirely abandoned him, and evacuated Poland, which obliged him to Ihut himfelf up in Cracow ^ but, finding the inhabitants little difpofed to Hand a liege, he retired into Germany in or¬ der to folicit afliftance from his wife’s friends. But here he found himfelf miitaken, and that thefe friends were at¬ tached to him only in his profperity j while in the mean time the city of Cracow furrendered, the unfortunate 5© Uladiflaus was formally depofed, and his brother Bole-an!? flaus raifed to the fupreme authority. P° e * The new duke began his adminiftration with an aft of generofity to his brother Uladiflaus, to whom he gave the duchy of Silefia, which thus was feparated from Po¬ land, and has never fince been re-annexed to it. This had no other effeft upon Uladiflaus than the putting him in a condition to raife frelh difturbances j for he now found means to perfuade the emperor Conrade to invade Poland : but Boleflaus fo haraffed and fatigued his army by perpettfal marches, ambufcades, and ikir- miflies, that he was obliged in a Ihort time to return to his own country 5 and for fome years Poland enjoyed profound tranquillity. During this interval Henry entered on a crufade j and, though he loft almoft all his army in that enthu- fiaftic undertaking, he is celebrated by the fuperftitious ■writers of that age, as the bulw ark of the church, and one of the greateft Chriftian heroes : however, in all probability, the reafon of this extraordinary fame is, that he made large donations to the knights of St John of Jerufalem. Soon after the return of Henry, Po-p0landit- land wTas invaded by the emperor Frederic Barbaroffa, vaded by who was perfuaded to this by the folicitations of Ula- t^,e emPe- diflaus and his wife Chriftina. The number of the Im- perialifts was fo great, that Boleflaus and his brothers ' did not think proper to oppofe them in the field j they contented themfelves with cutting oft' the convoys, pla¬ cing ambufcades, harafling them on their march, and keeping them in perpetual alarms by falfe attacks and Ikirmiflres. With this view the three brothers divided their forces, defolated the country before the enemy, and burnt all the towns and cities which were in no condition to ftand a liege. Thus the emperor, advan¬ cing into the heart of a defolated country where he could not fubfift, was at laft reduced to fuch a fituation that he could neither go forward nor retreat, and was 3 obliged to folicit a conference with Boleflaus. The lat- who is ob» ter was too prudent to irritate him by an unfeafonable liged to haughtinefs, and therefore went to the German camp^ue^or attended only by his brothers and a flight guard. ThisPeacSi inftance of confidence was fo agreeable to the emperor, that a treaty was foon entered upon, wLich was con¬ firmed by a marriage between Adelaide, niece to the emperor, and Mieczflaus duke of Poi'nania. Boleflaus having thus happily efcaped from fb great a danger, took it into his head to attempt the conqueft of Pruflia, for no other reafon but becaufe the inhabi¬ tants wrere heathens. Having unexpeftedly invaded the country with a very numerous army, he fucceeded in his enterprife y great numbers of infidels were converted, and many churches fet up : but no fooner wras Boleflauk gone, POL 53 A civil im. Poland, gone, tTian tlie inhabitants returned to their old religion. 'i - ■ ' Upon this Boleflaus again came againft them with a formidable power j but, being betrayed by fome Pruf- fians whom he had taken into his fervice and raifed to polls of honour, his army was led into defiles and al- moft entirely cut off, duke Henry was killed, and Bo- lefiaus and Mieczflaus efcaped with great difficulty. This misfortune wras quickly followed by another; for now the children of Uladiflaus laid claim to all the Polilh dominions which had been poffeffed by their fa¬ ther, moil of which had been beftowed upon young Ca- fimir. They were fupported in their pretenfions by a great number of difcontented Poles, and a confiderable body of German auxiliaries. Boleflaus, finding him- felf unable to withfland his enemies by force, had re- courfe to negotiation, by which means he gained time to recruit his army and repair his Ioffes. An affembly of the Hates was held, before which the duke fo fully refuted the claims of the children of Uladifiaus, that it was almpft unanimoufly voted that they had kindled an unjuft war ; and to take away every pretence for renewT- ing the civil difcords of Poland, they were a fecond time invefted with the duchy of Silefia, which for the prefent put an end to all difputes. After this, Boleflaus appli¬ ed himfelf to promote, by all means, the happinefs of his fubjefts, till his death, which happened in the year 1174. On the death of Boleflaus, the ilates raifed his bro¬ ther Mieczflaus to the ducal throne, on account of the great opinion they 'had of him. But the moment that Mieczflaus ceafed to be a fubjedt, he became a tyrant, and a Have to almoft every kind of vice j the confe- quence of which was, that in a very fhort time he was depofed, and his brother Cafimir eleffed in his Head. Cafimir was a prince of the greateft juftice and bene- volence, infomuch that he fcrupled to accept of the ho¬ nour which the ftates had conferred upon him, left it fhould be a trefpafs againft the laws of equity. How¬ ever, this fcruple being foon got over, he fet himfelf a- bout fecuring peace and tranquillity in all parts of his dominions. He redreffed all grievances, fuppreffed ex¬ orbitant impofts, and affembled a general diet, in which it was propofed to refcue the peafants from the tyranny of the nobility ; an affair of fuch confequence, that the duke could not enter upon it by his own authority, even though fupported by the clergy. Yet it proved lefs difficult than had been imagined, to perfuade the nobi¬ lity to relinquifli certain privileges extremely detrimen¬ tal to natural right. They were influenced by the ex¬ ample of their virtuous fovereign, and immediately gran¬ ted all that he required j and to fecure this declaration in favour of the peafants, the archbifhop of Gnefna thun¬ dered out anathemas againft thofe who fhould endeavour to regain the unjuft privileges which they had now re¬ nounced } and to give ftill greater weight to this de- cifion, the afts of the diet were tranfmitted to Rome, and were confirmed by the pope. But though the nobility in general confented to have their power fomewhat retrenched, it proved matter of difcontent to fome, who for this reafon immediately be¬ came the partifans of the depofed Mieczflaus. This un¬ fortunate prince was now reduced to fuch indigence, that he wrote an account of his fituation to his brother Cafimir •, which fo much afFefted him, that in an af¬ fembly of the diet he propofed to refign the fovereignty in favour of his brother. To this the ftates replied in [ 67 ] POL 54 mir, excellent prince, the moft peremptory manner: they defired him never Poland, more to mention the fubjeft to them, left they fhould v-""*' be under the neceffity of depofing him and excluding his brother, wffio, they were determined, fhould never more have the dominion of Poland. Cafimir, however, w7as fo much concerned at the account of his brother’s misfortunes, that he tried every method to relieve him, and even connived at the arts praftifed by fome dilcon- tented noblemen to reftore him. By a very lingular generofity, he facilitated the redudlion of Gnelha and Lower Poland, where Mieczflaus might have lived in peace and fplendor, had not his heart been fo corrupted that it could not be fubdued by kindnefs. The conl'e- quence was, that he ufed all his art to wreft from his brother the whole of his dominions, and actually con-> quered the provinces of Mazovia and Cujavia j but of thefe he was foon difpoffeffed, and only lome places in Lower Poland were left him. After this he made an¬ other attempt, on occafion of a report that Cafimir had been poifoned in an expedition into Rufiia. He fur- prifed the city of Cracow ; but the citadel refufed to furrender, and his hopes were entirely blafted by the re¬ turn of Cafimir himfelf} who, with an unparalleled ge¬ nerofity and magnanimity, alked peace of his brother whom he had vanquifhed and had in a manner at his ^ mercy.—The laft. a£b"on of this amiable prince was the conquers conqueft of Ruffia, which he effedled rather by the re- Ruffian putation of his wifdom and generofity than by the force of his arms. Thofe barbarians voluntarily fubmitted to a prince fo famed for his benevolence, juftice, and hu¬ manity. Soon after his return, he died at Cracow, la¬ mented as the beft prince in every refpeil who had ever filled the throne of Poland. Cafimir left one fon, named Lechus, an infant ; and the ftates, dreading the confequences of a long mino¬ rity, hefitated at appointing him fovereign, confidering hew many competitors he muft neceffarily have, and how dubious it muft be whether he might be fit for the 56 fovereignty after he had obtained it. At laft, however, Civil war Lechus was nominated, chiefly through the imereft he ^et^een ^ had obtained on account of the reputation of his father’s tj.ee c]ep0fe(i virtues. The confequence of his nomination was pre- Mieczflaus. cifely what might have been expc&ed. Mieczllaus formed an alliance againft him with the dukes of Op- pelen, Pomerania, and Breflau; and having raifed all the men in Lower Poland fit to bear arms,, took the road to Cracow with a very numerous army. A bloody battle was fought on the banks of the river Mozgarva j in which both fides were fo much weakened, that they were unable to keep the field, and confequently were forced to retire for fome time in order to repair their forces. Mieczflaus was firft ready for a£Hon, and there¬ fore had the advantage : however, he thought proper to employ artifice rather than open force 5 and therefore having attempted in vain to corrupt the guardians of Lechus, he entered into a treaty with the duchefs-dow- ager his mother. To her he reprefented in the ftrong- eft manner the miferies which would enfue from her re~ fufal of the conditions he propofed. He ftipulated to adopt Lechus and Conrade, her fons, for his own 5 to furrender the province of Cujavia for their prefent fup- port ; and to declare them heirs to all his dominions. The principal nobility oppofed this accommodation, but ^ it was accepted by the duchefs in fpite of all their re- Mieczflaus monitrances j and Mieczflaus was once more put in pof- lekorcd. I 2 feffion I POL [ 68 ] POL Poland, fefficn of the capital, after having “taken a folemn oath [r> execute punctually every article of the treaty. It is not to be fuppofed that a prince of fuch a per¬ fidious difpofition as Mieczflaus would pay much regard to the obligations of a fimple contraft. It was a ma¬ xim with him, that a fovereign is no longer obliged to keep bis oath than while it is neither fafe nor beneficial to break it. Having therefore got all the power into his hands, he behaved in the very fame manner as if no treaty with the duchefs had fubfifted. The duchefs, perceiving herfelf duped, formed a throng party, and excited a general infurreClion. The rebellion could not be withftood : Mieczflaus was driven out of Cracow, and on the point of being reduced to bis former circum- tftances, when he found means to produce a variance be¬ tween the duchefs and palatine of Cracow; and thus once more turned the fcale in his favour. The forces ©f Mieczflaus now became fuperior, and he, in confe- •mence, regained pofTeffion of Cracow, but did not long enjoy his profperity, falling a viftim to his intempe¬ rance ; fo that Lechus was reflored to the fovereignty in the year 1206. ■Poland ra- '-The government of Lechus was the moft unfortunate vaged by of any of the fovereigns of Poland. In his time the the tar, Tartars made an irruption, and committed everywhere the mod cruel ravages. At laft they came to an en¬ gagement wnth the Poles, affifeed by the Ruffians ; and after an obdinate and dreadful confiift, obtained a com- plete victory. This incurfion, however, terminated as precipitately as it commenced •, for without any appa- •rent reafon they retired, jud as the whole kingdom was ready to fubmit} but the devadations they had com¬ mitted produced a famine, which was foon followed by a plague that depopulated one of the mod populous countries of the north. In this unhappy fituation of affairs, death ended the misfortunes of Lechus, who was murdered by his own fubje&s as he was bathing. A civil war took place after his death 3 and the hidory for fome time is fo confufed, that it is difficult to fay with certainty who was his fucceffor. During this un¬ fortunate date of the country, the Tartars made a fe- cond irruption, laid all defolate before them, and were •advancing to the capital, when they were attacked and defeated with great daughter by the palatine of Cra¬ cow with only a handful of men. The power of the enemy, however, was not broken by this victory ; for, next year, the Tartars returned, and committed fuch barbarities as can fcarce be imagined. Whole provinces were defeated, and every one of the inhabitants maf- facred. They were returning, laden with fpoil, when the palatine fell upon them a fecond time, but not with the fame fuecels as before : for, after an obdinate en¬ gagement, he was defeated, and thus all Poland was laid open to the ravages of the barbarians; the nobility fled into Hungary, and the peafants fought an alylum among rocks and impenetrable foreds. Cracow, being -left entirely defsncelefs, was foon taken, pillaged, and burnt *, after which the barbarians, penetrating into Si- lefia and Moravia, defolated thefe countries, dedroying jBredau and other cities. Nor did Hungary efcape the fury of their barbarity : the king gave battle to the Tartars, but was defeated with vad daughter, and had the mortification to fee his capital laid in adres, and * above 100,000 of his fubjefts peril'll by fire and fword. The arms of Tartars irere invincible; nothing could withdand the prodigious number of forces which Poland, they brought into the field, and the fury with which l— they fought. They fixed their head-quarters on the frontiers of Hungary •, and fpread their devadations on every fide with a celerity and fuccefs that threatened the dedrufti'on of the whole empire, as well as of the neighbouring kingdoms. In this dreadful fituation was Poland when Loleflaus, furnamed the Chajle^ was railed to the fovfereignly; but this, fo far from putting an end to the troubles, only fuperadded a civil war to the red of the calamities. Boledaus was oppofed by his uncle Conrade the bro¬ ther of Lechus, who was provoked at becoming the fubjeft of his own nephew. Having affembled a power¬ ful army, he gained poffeffion of Cracow 3 affumed the title of duke of Poland; and might poffibly have kept poffedion of the fovereignty, had not his avarice and pride equally offended the nobility and peafants. In confequence of their difeontents, they unanimoudy ffi- vited Boledaus, who had fled into Hungary, to come and head the infurreidion which now took place in every quarter. On his arrival, he was joyfully received into Knights of the capital: but Conrade dill headed a powerful party ; the Teuto- and it is reported that on this occadon the knights of "k order the Teutonic order were fivd called into Poland, to difpute the pretenfions of Boledaus. All the endea-jj.jjj vours of Conrade, however, proved unfuccefsful : he was defeated in two pitched battles, and forced to live in a private fituation \ though he never ceafed to ha- rafs his nephew, and make fredi attempts to recover the crown. However, of the reign of Boledaus we have little account, except that We made a vow of perpetual continency, and impofed the fame on his wife ; that he founded near 40 rnonaderies; and that he died after a long reign in 1279, after having adopted Lechus duke of Cujavia, and procured a confirmation of his choice by tire free’eleflion of the people. ^ The reign of this lad prince was one continued feene p0ianci of foreign and domedic trouble. On his fird acceffion overrun by he was attacked by the united forces of Ruffia and Li- the Ru<- thuania affided by the Tartars j whom, however, he had the good fortune to defeat in a pitched battle. By this Uithuani- viftory the enemy were obliged to quit the kingdom j ans. but Lechus was fo much weakened, that civil diffen- fions took place immediately after. Thefe increafed to fuch a degree, that Lechus was obliged to fly to Hun¬ gary, the common refource of didreffed Polidi princes. The inhabitants of Cracow alone remained firm in their duty ; and thefe brave citizens dood all the fatigue and danger of a tedious fiege, till they were at lad relieved by Lechus at the head of a Hungarian army, who de¬ feated the rebels, and redored to his kingdom a legiti¬ mate government. He had fcarce reafeended the throne when the united forces of the Ruffians, Tartars, and Lithuanians, made a fecond irruption into Poland, and defolated the country with the mod favage barbarity. Their forces were now rendered more terrible than ever by their having along with them a vad number of large dogs trained to tbe art of war. Lecbus, however, with an army much inferior, obtained a complete viftory ; the Poles being animated by defpair, as perceiving, that, if they were conquered, they mud alfo be devoured. Soon after this, Lechus died with the reputation of a warlike, wife, but unfortunate prince. As he died without iffue, his crown was conteffed, a civil war again enfued 3. Poland. P O L enfued ; and the affairs of the ftat 61 War with tlie Teuto¬ nic knights 62 Ruffia Ni¬ gra con¬ quered by Cafimir the Great. declining way till the year I 296, when Premiflaus, th duke at that time, refuthed the title of king. However, they did not revive in any confiderable degree till tire year 1305, when Uladiflaus Lofticus, who had feized the throne in 1 300, and afterwards been driven out, was again reftored to it. The firft tranfadlion of his reign was a war with the Teutonic knights, who had ufurped ' the greater part of Pomerania during the late difiurb- ances. They had been fettled in the territory of Culm by Conrade duke of Mazovia *, but foon extended their 'dominion over the neighbouring provinces, and had even got poffieffion of the city of Dantzic, where they maffncred a number of Pomeranian gentlemen in cold blood •, which fo much terrified the neighbouring towns, that they fubmitted without a ftroke. I he knights were commanded bv the Pope himfelf to renounce their conquefts ■, but they fet at nought all his thunders, and even fuffered themfelves to be excommunicated rather than part with them. As foon as this happened, the king marched into the territories of the marquis of Brandenburg, becaufe he had pretended to fell a right to the Teutonic knights to thoie countries, when he had none to them himfclf. Uladiilaus next entered the ter¬ ritory of Culm, where he laid every thing wafte with fire andfword; and, being oppofed by the joint forces of the marquis, the knights, and the duke of Mazovia, he obtained a complete victory after a defperate and bloody engagement. Without purfuing the blow, he returned to Poland, recruited his army, and being rein¬ forced by a body of auxiliaries from Hungary and Li¬ thuania, he difperfed the enemy’s forces, and ravaged a fecond time all the dominions of the Teutonic order. Had he improved this advantage, he might eafily have exterminated the whole order, or at leaft reduced them fo low, that they could never have occafioned any more dhturbances in the date •, but he fuffered himfelf to be foothed and caioled by the promifes which they made without any defign of keeping them, and concluded a treaty under the mediation of the kings of Hungary and Bohemia. In a few months he was convinced of the perfidy of the knights •, for they not only refufed to evacuate Pomerania as had been ftipulated in the treaty, but endeavoured to extend their ufurpations, for which purpofe they had affembled a very confiderable army. Uladiflaus, enraged at their treachery, took the field a third time, and gave them battle with fuch fuccefs, that 40CG knights were left dead on the fpot, and y0,000 auxiliaries killed or taken pi-ifcners. Yet, though the king had it once more in his power to de- flrov the whole Teutonic order, he fatisfied himfelf with obtaining the territories which had occafioned the war ; after which he fpent the remainder of his life in peace . and tranquillity. Uladiflaus was fucceeded by his fon Cafimir ITT. fur- named the Great. He fubdued the province called Ruf- Jia Nigra in a fingle campaign. Next he turned his arms againft Mazovia'•, and with the utmoft rapidity overran the duchy, and annexed it as a province to the crown ; after which he applied himfelf to domeftic af¬ fairs, and was the firft who introduced a written code of laws into Poland. He was the moft impartial judge, the moft rigid obferver of juftice, and the moft fufcmif- five to the laws, of any potentate mentioned in the hif- $oiy of Lurope. The only vice with which he is char- Polancf. <53 [ 69 1 0 L continued in a very ged is that of incontinency } but even tn.s ihe cle.gy declared to be a venial fin, and arnpiy comperuated by his other virtues, particularly ■ the great liberality which he (bowed to the clerical order, _ _ Cafimir was .fucceedcd iu 137c by his nephew Louis Unhappy king of Hungary ; but, as the Poles looked upon him reign of to be a foreign prince, they were not happy under hisLoius- adminiftration. Indeed a coldnefs between this monarch and his people took place even before he afeended the throne } for in the pa ft a cctuvcHta, to which the Poliih monarchs were obliged to fwear, a great number of un- ufual articles were inierted. This probably. u,ras the reafon why he left Poland almofl; as loon as his corona¬ tion was over, carrying with him the crown, feeptre, globe, and fword of (date, to prevent the Poles from elecling another prince during his abfence. He left the government in the hands of his mother Elizabeth ■, and (he would have been agreeable to the people, had her capacity for government been equal to the talk. At that time, however, the (late of Poland was too much did rafted to be governed by a woman. The country was overrun with bold robbers and gangs of villains, who committed the mod horrid diforciers j the king¬ dom was likewife invaded by the Lithuanians, the whole province of Ruflia Nigra revolted ; and the king¬ dom was univerfally filled with diffenfion. The Poles could not bear to fee their towns filled with Hungarian garrifons •, and therefore fent a meffage to the king, telling him that they thought he had been fufficientiy honoured in being elefted king 01 Poland himfelf, with¬ out fuffenng the kingdom to be governed by a woman and his Hungarian fuojefts. On this Louis immediate¬ ly raifed a numerous army, with a defign fully to con¬ quer the fpirit of his fubjefts. His firft operations were direfted againft the Ruffians ; whom he defeated, and again reduced to fubjeftion. Then he turned his arms againft the Lithuanians, drove them out of the king¬ dom, and re-eftabhflied public tranquillity. Howevei, inftead of being fatisfied with this, and removing the Hungarian garrifons, he introduced many more, and raifed Hungarians lo all the chiei pods ot government. His credit and authority even w'ent fo far as to get a fucceffor nominated who was difagreeahk to the whole nation, namely Sigifnund marquis of Brandenburg. Al¬ ter the death of Louis, however, this eleftion was fet afide j and Hedwuga, daughter of Cafimir the Great, was proclaimed queen. . a This princefs married Jagello dukeot Lithuania, who Uecwiga was now* converted to Chrillianity, and baptized by the marries the name of Uladi/laus. In confequence of this marriage, Jkeof Li¬ the duchy of Lithuania, as well as the vaft provinces of Samogitia and Ruflia Nigra, became annexed to uniting that crowm of Poland. Such a formidable acceffion of povrer duchy, to- excited the jealoufy of the Teutonic knights, wLo were sether wit!* fenfible that Uladiflaus. was now bound to undertake theJ*J°S^ reduftion of Pomerania, and revenge all the injuries-Nig.ra) tQ which Poland had furtained from them for a great num- Poland, ber of years. From his firft acceffion therefore they confidered this monarch as their greateft enemy, and.en¬ deavoured to prevent his defigns againft them by eft eft- ing a revolution in Lithuania in favour of his brother Andrew. The profpeft of fuccefs was the greater here, as moft of the nobility were difeontented with the late alliance, and Uladiftaus had propoftd to effeft a re¬ volution in religion, which was highly difagreeable, 0 ca POL . [ , | On a fudden, therefore, two armies marched towards ^ the frontiers of the duchy, which they as fuddenly pe¬ netrated, laying watte the whole country, and feizing upon fome important fortreffes, before the king of Po¬ land had any notice of the matter. As foon as he re¬ ceived advice of thefe ravages, Uladiflaus railed fome forces with the utmoft celerity, which he committed to the care of his brother Skirgello, who defeated the Teutonic knights, and foon obliged them to abandon all their conquetts. In the mean time Uladitlaus marched in perfon into the Higher Poland, which was fubje&ed to a variety of petty tyrants> who oppreffed the peo- pie, and governed with intolerable defpotifm. The pa¬ latine of Pofnia, in particular, had diftinguithed himfelf by his rebellious praftices ; but he was completely de¬ feated by Uladitlaus, and the whole country reduced to 65 obedience. Troubles in ^ Having fecured the tranquillity of Poland, Uladiflaus it uania. Lithuania, attended by a great number of the clergy, in order to convert his fubjefts. This he ef- fe&ed without great difficulty •, but left the care of the duchy to his brother Skirgello, a man of a cruel, haugh¬ ty, and debauched turn, and who immediately began to abufe his power. With him the king fent his coufin Vitowda, a prince of a generous, brave, and amiable difpolition, to be a check upon his conduct; but the barbarity of Skirgello foon obliged this prince to take refuge among the Teutonic knights, who were now be¬ come the afylum of the oppreffed and difcontented. For fome time, however, he did not affift the knights in their defigns againft his country ; but having applied for proteftion to the king, and finding him remifs in affording the neceffary affiftance, he at laft joined in the fchemes formed by the knights for the deilru&ion of Poland. Entering Lithuania at the head of a nume¬ rous army, he took the capital, burnt part of it, and deftroyed 14,000 perfons in the flames, befides a great number who were maffacred in attempting to make their efcape. The upper part of the city, however, was vi- goroufly defended, fo that the befiegers were at laft obliged to abandon all thoughts of making themfelves mafters of it, and to content themfelves wdth defolating the adjacent country. The next year Vitowda renewed his attempts upon this city, but with the fame ill fuc- cefs ; though he got poffeffion of fome places of lefs note. As foon, however, as an opportunity offered, he came to an accommodation with the king, who beftow- ed on him the government of Lithuania. During the firft years of his government, he beftowed the moft dili¬ gent attention upon domeftic affairs, endeavouring to re¬ pair the calamities which the late wars had occafioned 5 but his impetuous valour had prompted him at laft to en¬ gage in a war with Tamerlane the Great, after his vic¬ tory over Bajazet the Turkifti emperor. For fome time before, Vitowda had been at war with the neighbour¬ ing Fartars, and had been conftantly vidtorious, tranf- porting whole hordes of that barbarous people into Po¬ land and Lithuania, w’here to this day they form a co¬ lony diftindl in manners and drefs from the other inha¬ bitants. Uladiflaus, however, diffuaded him from at- ^ tacking the whole ftrength of the nation under fuch a Terrible celebrated commander as Tamerlane : but Vitowda was battle with obftinate } he encountered an army of 400,000 Tar- the far- tars under Ediga, Tamerlane’s lieutenant, with only a ^ tenth part of their number. The battle continued for ] POL a whole day ; but at laft Vitowda was furrounded Poland, by the numbers of his enemy, and in the utmoft danger ol being cut in pieces. However, he broke his way through with prodigious (laughter on both fides j and came off at laft without a total defeat, having killed a number oi the enemy equal to the whole of his own army. During the abfence of Vitowda, the Teutonic knights Wars with had penetrated into Lithuania, committing every where !-he i euto- the moft dreadful ravages. On his return he attacked nic knight*, and defeated them, making an irruption into Livonia, to punifti the inhabitants oi that country for the aflift- ance they had given to the Teutonic order. This was (ucceeded by a long feries of wars between Poland and Pruffia, in which it became neceffary for Uladiflaus him- ftdf to take the field. JLhe knights had now7 one way or other got poffeffion of Samogitia, Mazovia, Culm, Silefia, and Pomerania; fo that Uladiflaus refolved to punifh them before they became too powerful. With this view he affemblcd an army compofed of feveral dif¬ ferent nations, with which he penetrated into Pruffia, took feveral towns, and was advancing to Marienburg, the capital of Pomerania, when he was met by the army of the Pruffian knights, who determined to hazard a battle. When the engagement began, the Poles were deferted by all their auxiliaries, and obliged to ftand the brunt of the battle by themfelves. But the cou¬ rage and conduft of their king fo animated them, that after a moft defperate battle they obtained a complete viftory near 40,000 of the enemy being killed in the field, and 30,000 taken prifoners. This terrible over¬ throw, however, was lefs fatal to the affairs of the Pruf¬ fian knights than might have been expe&ed ; as Uladi¬ flaus did not improve his vi&ory, and a peace was con¬ cluded upon eafier terms than his adverfaries had any reafon to expe