once within the poet's reach, and suited to his necessities. Even those persons who lay no claim to poétical inspiration, are observed, in relating any of the more trivial occurrences of life, to throw more interest into their account, by exaggerating what is unimportant, and supplying what is deficient in its matter. How much more then, must the artist be impelled to give a loose to his inventive powers, who may plead the immunities of poetical enthusiasm; who may receive a subject from history little calculated, from the blemishes that may deform, and the deficiencies that may mutilate it, to answer all that expectation may demand in his art? To the delicacy of his more refined sense, those flaws and imperfections, which escape the observation of grosser organs, must be particularly manifest: he must observe the necessity of polishing them down, or varnishing them over; and he must feel himself possessed of talents adequate to secure him success in such an undertaking. He must perceive himself endowed with the power of raising his conceptions beyond what he may observe in reality; of improving on what is beautiful, of elevating what is sublime, of

adding further ornament to what is embellished, and greater harmony to what is ar ranged.

We may hence look upon the poet as divided in his choice between opposing interests; as led, on the one hand, to maintain the importance of his subject by preserving its truth; and as induced, on the other, to heighten its beauty by increasing its embellishment. And whatever be the impulse to which he yields, his way lying through history, must either fall into the beaten track of reality, or deserting it, must pass into the confines of fiction. His course being thus prescribed, we may proceed to determine the nature and extent of those licences, in which he may be indulged in taking either direction.

Those places in which the poet does not conform to history, are evidently those alone in which his conduct in the present section demands any consideration. And here, since history is a science, there is a deviation from that standard, which, as has been observed, determines the nature of every licence, in as much as there is a deviation from history; for whatever fictitious matter is superadded

to an account generally true, must be a deviation from the authority professedly followed. Thus, in attributing irrascibility to Brutus, or valour to Domitius Anobarbus, in making Helen contemporary with Paris, or Dido with Æneas, the poet deviates from history, and is conceived to make use of a licence. So far the nature of this quality of poetical composition is, in the present instance, easily determined. But to ascertain the object of such deviations from science, seems attended with as little difficulty. In order that they should be allowable, without which they can be evidently no licences, they should at least conform more in their altered, than original state, to the end of poetry, by being more capable of giving pleasure, or awakening interest. And this end cannot be attained, without rendering the production more striking: for every improvement which is added to the original matter of the subject, as it increases its effect must strengthen its impressiveness.

So far the NATURE of those liberties taken with the science of history is explained, and shewn to possess every necessary conformity to the general definition formerly

given of Poetick Licence. But to what ExTENT these liberties may be carried, without transgressing the due bounds of licence, demands a more particular consideration.

CHAP. I.

OF THE HISTORICAL EPOS.

DIRECTING our attention to the historick epopee in the first place, every difficulty which requires a solution, in reference to its historical incidents, appears to be included in the following question.

What may be the liberties which a poet is permitted to take with the truth of the incidents, on which he founds an historick poem; or, to speak with a more immediate reference to the subject of the present investigation, how far in taking any such liberties will he be justified by Poetick Licence?

And this question may, I believe, receive a solution from unfolding and applying those principles, which direct the poet in the choice, and guide him in the management of his subject.

When we regard the more important incidents which form the action, or groundwork of the composition, they do not appear capable of deriving any advantage from the poet's pushing the bounds of truth into the