ment, like an artful lover, in reality carries its point; and the lefs it is fufpected of it, it shows the more maiterly conduct, and deferves the greater commendation.

It holds true in this province of writing, as in war, "The more danger, the more honour." It must be very enterprifing; it muft, in Shakspeare's ftyle, have hair-breadth fcapes; and often tread the very brink of error: nor can it ever deferve the applaufe of the real judge, unless it renders itfelf obnoxious to the mifapprehensions of the contrary.

Such is Cafimire's ftrain among the moderns, whofe lively wit, and happy fire, is an honour to them. And Buchanan might juttly be much admired, if any thing more than the fweetnefs of his numbers, and the purity of his diction, were his own his original, from which I have taken my motto, through all the disadvantages of a northern profe tranflation, is ftill admirable; and, Cowley fays, as preferable in beauty to Buchanan, as Judæa is to Scotland.

Pindar, Anacreon, Sappho, and Horace, are the great masters of Lyric poetry among Heathen writers. Pindar's mufe, like Sachariffa, is a ftately, imperious, and accomplished beauty; equally difdaining the ufe of art, and the fear of any rival; fo intoxicating that it was the highest commendation that could be given an ancient, that he was not afraid to taste of her charms;

"Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit hauftus;"

a danger which Horace delares he durst not run. Anacreon's mufe is like Amoret, most sweet, natural, and delicate; all over flowers, graces, and charms; infpiring complacency, not awe; and the feems to have good-nature enough to admit a rival, which he cannot find.

is paffionately Sappho's mufe, like Ladytender, and glowing; like oil fet on fire, the is foft, and warm, in excefs. Sappho has left us a few fragments only; time has fwallowed the reft; but that little which remains, like the remaining jewel of Cleopatra, after the other was diffolved at her banquet, may be eftecmed (as was that jewel) a fufficient ornament for the goddefs of beauty her

felf.

Affumes the God,
Affects to nod,

And feems to fhake the spheres,

are chofen in the following Ode, because the fub. ject of it is great.

For the more harmony likewife, I chose the frequent return of rhyme, which laid me under great difficulties. But difficulties overcome give grace and pleafure. Nor can I account for the pleasure of rhyme in general (of which the moderns are too fond) but from this truth.

But then the writer must take care that the difficulty is overcome. That is, he must make rhyme confiftent with as perfect fense, and expreffion, as could be expected if he was free from that hackle. Otherwife, it gives neither grace to the work, nor pleasure to the reader, nor, confequently, reputation to the poet.

To fum the whole : Ode thould be peculiar, but not strained; moral, but not fat; natural, but not obvious; delicate, but not affected; noble, but not ambitious; full, but not obfcure; fiery, but not mad; thick, but not loaded in its numbers, which fhould be moft harmonious, without the leaft facrifice of expreffion, or of fenfe. Above all, in this, as in every work of genius, fomewhat of an ori. ginal fpirit fhould be, at leaft, attempted; otherwife the poet, whofe character difclaims mediocrity, makes a fecondary praife his ultimate ambition; which has fomething of a contradition in it. Originals only have true life, and differ as much from the best Imitations, as men from the moft animated pictures of them. Nor is what I fay at all inconfiftent with a due deference for the great ftandards of antiquity; nay, that very deference is an argument for it; for doubtless their example is on my fide in this matter. fhould rather imitate their example in the general motives and fundamental methods of their working, than in their works themfelves. This is a diftinction, I think, not hitherto made, and a diftinction of confequence. For the first may make us their equals; the fecond muft pronounce us their inferiors even in our utmoft fuccefs. But the first of these prizes is not fo readily taken by the moderns; as valuables too mafly for easy carriage are not fo liable to the thief.

Horace's mufe (like one I fhall not prefume to name) is correct, folid, and moral; fhe joins all the former, in the jufteft proportions and degrees; fuperadding a felicity of dress entirely her own. She moreover is diftinguishable by this particularity, That the abounds in hidden graces, and fecret charms, which none but the difcerning can difcover; nor are any capable of doing full justice, in their opinion, to her excellencies, without giving the world, at the fame time, an inconteftable proof" of refinement in their own understandings.

But, after all, to the honour of our own country I must add, that I think Mr. Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day inferior to no compofition of this kind. Its chief beauty confifts in adapting the numbers moft happily to the variety of the occafion. Thofe by which he has chofen to exprefs Majefty, (viz.)

And we

The ancients had a particular regard to the choice of their fubjects; which were generally national and great. My fubject is, in its own nature, noble; moft proper for an Englishman; never more proper than on this occafion; and (what is ftrange) hitherto unfung.

If I ftand not abfolutely condemned by my own rules; if I have hit the fpirit of ode in general; if I cannot think with Mr. Cowley, that “Music alone, fometimes, makes an excellent ode,"

"Verfus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ ;" if there is any thought, enthusiasm, and picture, which are as the body, ful, and robe of poetry; in a word, if in any degree I have provided rather food for men, than air for wits; I hope fmal'er faults will meet indulgence for the fake of the de

fen, which is the glory of my country and my kig.

Where? where are they,
Whom Pæan's ray

Has touch'd, and bid divinely rave?
What, none afpire?
I fnatch the lyre,

And indeed, this may be faid, in general, that great fubjects are above being nice; that dignity and fpirit ever suffer from fcrupulous exactnefs; and that the minier cares effeminate a compofi- And plunge into the foaming wave. tion. Great maiters of poetry, painting, and stamary, 13 their nobler works, have even affected the contrary, and juftly; for a truly mafculine air partakes more of the negligent, than of the Leat, both in writings, and in life

"Grandis oratio haberet majeftatis fuæ pondus."

To clofe; If a piece of this nature wants an apology, I must own, that thefe who have strength of mind fufficient profitably to devote the whole of their time to the feverer ftudies, I defpair of iming, I can only envy and admire. The mind is relieved and ftrengthened by variety; and he that metimes is fporting with his pen, is only taking the mot effectual means of giving a general imtance to it. This truth is clear from the knowge of human nature, and of history; from which I could cite very celebrated intances, did I not fear that, by citing them, I fhould condemn myff, who am to little qualified to follow their example in its full extent.

The wave refounds!
The rock rebounds!
The Nereids to my fong reply!
I lead the choir,
And they confpire

With voice and fhell to lift it high;
They spread in air

Their bofoms fair;

Their verdant treffes pour behind.
The billows beat

With nimble feet,

With notes triumphant fwell the wind.
Who love the fhore,

Let thofe adore

The god Apollo, and his Nine,
Parnaffus' hill,

And Orpheus' skill;
But let Arion's harp be mine.

The main the main !

Is Britain's reign;
Her ftrength, her glory, is her fleet;
The main the main!

Be Britons' ftrain;

As Tritons' ftrong, as Syrens' fweet.
Through nature wide,

Is nought defcry'd
So rich in pleafure, or furprise;
When all ferene,

How fweet the scene!

How dreadful, when the billows rife.
And ftorms deface
The fluid glafs,

In which ere-while Britannia fair
Look'd down with pride,
Like Ocean's bride,

Adjusting her majestic air.

When tempefts ceafe,
And hufh'd in peace

The flatten'd furges fmoothly fpread,

Deep filence keep,
And feem to fleep

Recumbent on their oozy bed;

With what a trance

The level glance,

Unbroken, fhoots along the feas!

Which tempt from shore
The painted oar;

And every canvas courts the breeze!

When rushes forth

The frowning North

On blackening billows, with what dread
My fhuddering foul

B.holds them roll,

And hears their roarings o'er my head!
With terror mark

Yon flying bark!

Now, centre-deep defcend the brave