fome particular moral virtue, which renders them all equal, without fubordination or preference. Every one is most valiant in his own legend; only we must do them that juftice to obferve, that magnanimity, which is the character of prince Arthur, fhines throughout the whole Poem; and fuccours the reft, when they are in diftrefs. The original of every knight was then living in the court of queen Elizabeth; and he attributed to each of them, that virtue which he thought moft confpicuous in them: an ingenious piece of flattery, though it turned not much to his account. Had he lived to finish his Poem, in the fix remaining legends, it had certainly been more of a piece; but could not have been perfect, because the model was not true. But prince Arthur, or his chief patron Sir Philip Sidney, whom he intended to make happy by the marriage of his Gloriana, dying before him, deprived the Poet, both of means and fpirit, to accomplish his defign: for the reft, his obfolete language, and the ill choice of his ftanza, are faults but of the fecond magnitude: for notwithstanding the firft, he is still intelligible, at leaft after a little practice; and for the laft, he is the more to be admired, that labouring under fuch a difficulty, his verfes are fo numerous, fo various, and fo harmonious, that only Virgil, whom he profeffedly imitated, has furpaffed him, among the Romans; and only Mr. Waller among the English.

As for Mr. Milton, whom we all admire with fo much juftice, his fubject is not that of an Heroic Poem, properly fo called. His defign is the lofing of our happiness: his event is not profperous, like that of all other Epique works: his heavenly ma-' chines are many, and human perfons are but two. But I will not take Mr. Rhymer's work out of his hands: he has promised the world a Critique on that author; wherein, though he will not allow his Poem for Heroic, I hope, he will grant us, that his thoughts are elevated, his words founding, and that no man has fo happily copied the manner of Homer; or fo

copiously

copiously tranflated his Grecifms, and the Latin elegancies of Virgil. It is true, he runs into a flat thought, fometimes for a hundred lines together, but it is when he is got into a track of fcripture: his antiquated words were his choice, not his neceffity; for therein he imitated Spencer, as Spencer imitated Chaucer. And though, perhaps the love of their mafters may have tranfported both too far, in the frequent ufe of them; yet in my opinion, obfolete words may then be laudably revived, when either they are more founding, or more fignificant than thofe in practice; and when their obfcurity is taken away, by joining other words to them, which clear the fenfe; according to the rule of Horace, for the admiffion of new words. But in both cafes a moderation is to be observed in the ufe of them. For unneceffary coinage, as well as unnecessary revival, runs into affectation; a fault to be avoided on either hand. Neither will I juftify Milton for his blank verfe, though I may excufe him, by the example of Hannibal Caro, and other Italians, who have used it: for whatever caufes he alledges for the abolishing of rhyme (which I have not now the leifure to examine) his own particular reafon is plainly this, that rhyme was not his talent; he had neither the ease of doing it, nor the graces of it; which is manifeft in his Juvenilia, or verses written in his youth; where his rhyme is always constrained and forced, and comes hardly from him, at an age when the foul is most pliant, and the paffion of love makes almost every man a rhymer, though not a Poet.

By this time, my Lord, I doubt not but that you wonder, why I have run off from my bias fo long together, and made fo tedious a digreffion from Satire to Heroic Poetry. But if you will not excufe it, by the tattling quality of age, which, as Sir William Davenant fays, is always narrative; yet I hope the ufefulness of what I have to fay on this fubject, will qualify the remoteness of it; and this is the last time I will commit the crime of prefaces, or trouble the world

world with my notions of any thing that relates to verfe. I have then, as you fee, observed the failings of many great wits amongst the moderns, who have attempted to write an Epique poem: befides these, or the like animadverfions of them by other men, there is a yet farther reafon given, why they cannot poffibly fucceed, fo well as the ancients, even though we could allow them not to be inferior, either in genius or learning, or the tongue in which they write, or all thofe other wonderful qualifications which are neceffary to the forming of a true accomplished heroic poet. The fault is laid on our religion: they fay, that Chriftianity is not capable of thofe embellishments which are afforded in the belief of those ancient heathens.

And it is true, that in the fevere notions of our faith, the fortitude of a Chriftian confifts in patience and fuffering, for the love of God, whatever hardthips can befal in the world; not in any great attempts, or in performance of those enterprizes which the poets call heroique; and which are commonly the effects of intereft, oftentation, pride, and worldly honours. That humility and refignation are our prime virtues; and that these include no action, but that of the foul: when, as on the contrary, an heroique poem requires to its neceffary defign, and as its laft perfection, fome great action of war, the accomplishment of fome extraordinary undertaking, which requires the ftrength and vigour of the body, the duty of a foldier, the capacity and prudence of a general; and, in fhort, as much, or more of the active virtue, than the fuffering. But to this, the anfwer is very obvious. God has placed us in our feveral ftations; the virtues of a private Chriftian are patience, obedience, fubmiffion, and the like; but thofe of a magiftrate, or general, or a king, are prudence, counfel, active fortitude, coercive power, awful commands, and the exercise of magnanimity, as well as juftice. So that this objection hinders not, but that an epique poem, or the heroique action

of

of fome great commander, enterprized for the common good, and honour of the Chriftian caufe, and executed happily, may be as well written now, as it was of old by the heathens; provided the poet be endued with the fame talents; and the language, though not of equal dignity, yet as near approaching to it, as our modern barbarifm will allow, which is all that can be expected from our own, or any other now extant, though more refined; and therefore we are to reft contented with that only inferiority, which is not poffibly to be remedied.

I wish I could as easily remove that other difficulty which yet remains. It is objected by a French critique as well as an admirable poet, yet living, and whom I have mentioned with that honour which his merit exacts from me, I mean Boileau, That the machines of our Chriftian religion in heroique poetry, are much more feeble to fupport the weight than those of heathenifm. Their doctrine, grounded as it was on ridiculous fables, was yet the belief of the two victorious monarchies, the Grecian and Roman. Their Gods did not only intereft themselves in the event of wars (which is the effect of a fuperior Providence) but alfo efpoufed the feveral parties, in a vifible corporeal defcent, managed their intrigues, and fought their battles fometimes in oppofition to each other though Virgil (more difcreet than Homer in that last particular) has contented himself with the partiality of his deities, their favours, their counfels or commands, to thofe whose cause they had efpoufed, without bringing them to the outrageouf nefs of blows. Now our religion (says he) is deprived of the greatest part of thofe machines; at leaft the moft fhining in epique poetry. Though St. Michael in Ariofto feeks out Difcord, to fend her among the pagans, and finds her in a convent of friars, where peace fhould reign, which indeed is fine fatire; and Satan in Taffo, excites Solyman to an attempt by night on the Chriftian camp, and brings an hoft of devils to his affiftance; yet the

arch

arch-angel, in the former example, when Difcord was reftive, and would not be drawn from her beloved monaftery with fair words, has the whip-hand of her, drags her out with many ftripes, fets her, on God's name, about her bufinefs; and makes her know the difference of strength betwixt a nuncio of heaven, and a minifter of hell: the fame angel, in the latter inftance from Taffo (as if God had never another meffenger belonging to the court, but was confined like Jupiter to Mercury, and Juno to Iris,) when he fees his time, that is, when half of the Christians are already killed, and all the reft are in a fair way of being routed, ftickles betwixt the remainders of God's hoft, and the race of fiends; pulls the devils backwards by the tails, and drives them from their quarry; or otherwife the whole bufinefs had mifcarried, and Jerusalem remained untaken. This, fays Boileau, is a very unequal match for the poor devils, who are fure to come by the worst of it in the combat; for nothing is more easy, than for an Almighty Power to bring his old rebels to reason, when he pleafes. Confequently, what pleasure, what entertainment can be raised from fo pitiful a machine, where we fee the fuccefs of the battle from the very beginning of it; unless that, as we are Chriftians, we are glad that we have gotten God on our fide, to maul our enemies, when we cannot do the work ourselves? For if the poet had given the faithful more courage, which had coft him nothing, or at least had made them exceed the Turks in number, then he might have gained the victory for us Chriftians, without interefting heaven in the quarrel; and that with as much ease, and as little credit to the conqueror, as when a party of one hundred foldiers defeats another, which confifts only of fifty.

This, my Lord, I confefs, is fuch an argument against our modern poetry, as cannot be answered by thofe mediums which have been used. We cannot hitherto boaft, that our religion has furnished VOL. IV.

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