cing into every corner, and by the light of that true poetical Fire, difcovering a, thoufand little bodies or images in the world, and fimilitudes among them, unseen to common eyes, and which could not be difcovered, without the rays of that Sun.

Befides the heat of Invention and liveliness of Wit, there must be the coldnels of good Senfe and foundness of Judgment, to distingiufh between things and conceptions, which at firft fight, or upon short glances, from afide, seem alike; to choose among infinite productions of wit and fancy, which are worth preferving and cultivating, and, which are better stifled in the birth, or thrown away when they are born, as not worth bringing up. Without the forces, of Wit, all Poetry is flat and languishing; without the fuccours of Judgment, 'tis wild and extravagant. The trus Wonder of Poetry is, that fuch Contrarys must meet to compofe it, a Genius both penetrating and solid, in expression both delicacy and force, and the frame or fabrick of a true Poem, must have something both sublime and just, amazing and agreeable. There must be a great agitation of mind to invent, a great agitation of mind to invent, a great calm to judge and correct; there must be upon the fame tree, and at the same time, both flower and fruit. To work up this metal into exquisite figure, there must be employ'd the fire, the hammer, the chizel, and the file. There must be a general Knowledge both of Nature and of Arts, and to go the lowest that can be, there are required Genius, Judgment and Application; for without this last, alI the reft will not serve turn, and none ever was a great Poet, that applied himself much to any thing elfe...

When I fpeak of Poetry, I mean not an Ode, or an Elegy, or a Song, or a Satire, nor by a Poet the compofer of any of thefe; but of a juft Poem. And BH 2

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after all I have faid, 'tis no wonder, there fhould be fo few have appeared, în any parts or any ages of the world, or that fuch as have, fhould be fo much admired, and have almoft Divinity ascribed to them, and to their works.

Whatever has been among those, who are mentioned with so much praise and admiration by the Ancients, but are loft to us, and unknown any further than their names. I think no man has been fo bold among those that remain, to question the title of Homer and Virgil, not only to the firft rank, but to the fupreme dominion in this State, and from whom, as the great Lawgivers as well as Princes, all the laws and orders of it are or may be derived. Homer was without dispute the most universal genius, that has been known in the world, and Virgil the most accomplifh'd. To the first must be allowed, the most fertile invention, the richest véin, the moft general knowledge, and the most lively expreffion; to the last, the most noble ideas, the justest institution, the wisest conduct, and the choiceft elocution. To speak in the Painter's terms, we find in the works of Homer, the anoft fpirit, force and live; in those of Virgil, the best design, the trueft proportions, and the greatest grace. The Colouring in both seems equal, and indeed in both is admirable. Homer had more fire and rapture, Virgil more light and sweetness: or at leaft the poetical fire was more razing in one, but clearer in the other, which makes the first more aïnazing, and the latter more agreeable. The Care was richer in one, but in the other more refined, and better allay'd, to make up excellent work. Upon the whole, I think it must be confeffed, that Homer was of the two, and perhaps of all others, the vastest, the fublimeft, and the moft wonderful Genius; and that ́he has been generally so esteemed, there cannot be a

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greater testimony given, than what has been by fome, obferved, that not only the greatest masters have found in his works the best and truest principles of all their sciences and arts, but that the nobleft nations have derived from them the Original of their several races, though it be hardly yet agreed, whether his story be true, or fiction. In fhort, these two immortal Poets must be allowed to have so much excelled in their kinds, as to have exceeded all comparifon, to have even extinguished emulation, and in a manner confined true poetry, not only to their own languages, but to their very perfons. And I am apt to believe so much of the true genius of poetry in ge neral, and of its elevation in these two particulars, that I know not, whether of all the numbers of mankind, that live within the compafs of a thousand years; for one man that is born capable of making fuch a poet as Homer or Virgil, there may not be a thousand born capable of making as great generals of armies, or miniftres of state, as any the most renowned in story.

I do not here intend to make a further critik upon poetry, which were too great a labour, nor to give ru les for it, which were as great a prefumption. Befides, there has been so much paper blotted upon these fubjects, in this curious and cenfuring age, that 'tis all grown tedious or repetition. The modern French Wits, or Pretenders, have been very fevere in their cenfures, and exact in their rules, I think to very little purpose. For I know not, why they might not have contented themselves with those given by Aristotle and Horace, and have tranflated them rather than commented upon them. For all they have done, has been no more; fo as they feem, by their writings of this kind, rather to have valued themselves, than improved any body else. The truth is, there is fomething

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in the genius of Poetry, too libertine to be confined to fo many rules; and whoever goes about to fubject it to fuch constraints, lofes both its fpirit and grace, which are ever native, and never learnt even of the best masters. Tis as if to make excellent honey, you should cut off the wings of your bees, confine them to their hive or their stands, and lay flowers before them, fuch as you think the fweeteft, and like to yield the finest extraction; you had as good pull out their stings, and make arrant drones of them. They must range through field's, as well as gardens, choose fuch flowers as they please, and by proprieties and scents they only know and diftinguifh. They must work up their cells with admirable art, extract their honey with infinite labour, and fever it from the wax with fuch distinetion and choice, as belongs to none but themselves to perform or judge..

It would be too much mortification to thefes great arbitrary Rulers, among the French Writers, or our own, to obferve the worthy productions that have been formed by their rules, the honour they have received in the world, or the pleafure they have given mankind. But to comfort them, I do not know, there was any great Poet in Greece, after the rules of that Art laid down by Ariftotle, nor in Rome, after those by Horace which yet none of our moderns pretends to have out-done. Perhaps Theocritus and Lucan may be alledg'd against this affertion; but the firft offered no further, than Idyls or Eclogues, and the laft, though he must be avowed for a true and a happy genius, and to have made very high flights, yet he is fo unequal to himfelf, and his muse is so young, that his faults are too noted, to allow his pretences. Feliciter auder, is the true

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character of Lucan, as of Ovid, lufit amabiliter. After all, the utmoft that can be atchieved, or I think pretended, by any rules in this art, is but to hinder fome men from being very ill Poets, but not to make any man a very good one. To judge, who is fo, we need go no further for inftruction, than three lines of Horace:

Ille, meum qui pectus inaniter angit,

Irritat, mulcet, falfis terroribus implet,

Ut magus, er modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis.