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couplets have no merit whatever but what arises from difficulty of execution.

The pleasure we receive from rhyme, in serious compositions, arises from a combination of different circumstances which my present subject does not lead me to investigate particularly.* I am persuaded, however, that it arises, in part, from our surprise at the Poet's habits of association, which enable him to convey his thoughts with ease and beauty, notwithstanding the narrow limits within which his choice of expression is confined. One proof of this is, that if there appear any mark of constraint, either in the ideas or in the expression, our pleasure is proportionally diminished. The thoughts must seem to suggest each other, and the rhymes to be only an accidental circumstance. same remark may be made on the measure of the verse. When in its greatest perfection, it does not appear to be the result of labour, but to be dictated by nature, or prompted by inspiration. In Pope's best verses, the idea is expressed with as little inversion of style, and with as much conciseness, precision and propriety, as the author could have attained, had he been writing prose: without any apparent exertion on his part, the words seem spontaneously to arrange themselves in the most musical numbers.

"While still a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
"I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came."

The

This facility of versification, it is true, may be, and probably is, in most cases, only apparent: and it is reasonable to think, that in the most perfect poetical productions, not only the choice of words, but the choice of ideas, is influenced by the rhymes. In a prose composition, the author holds on in a direct course, according to the plan he has previously formed; but in a poem, the rhymes which occur to him are perpetually diverting him to the right hand or to the left, by suggesting ideas which do not naturally rise out of his subject. This, I presume, is Butler's meaning in the following couplet:

"Rhymes the rudder are of verses

"With which like ships, they steer their courses."

But although this may be the case in fact, the Poet must employ all his

* In Elegiac poetry, the recurrence of the same sound, and the uniformity in the structure of the versification which this necessarily occasions, are peculiarly suited to the inactivity of the mind, and to the slow and equable succession of its ideas, when under the influence of tender or melancholy passions; and, accordingly, in such cases, even the Latin poets, though the genius of their language be very ill fitted for compositions in rhyme, occasionally indulge themselves in something very nearly approaching to it.

"Memnona si mater, mater ploravit Achillem,
"Et tangant magnas tristia fata Deas;
"Flebilis indignos Elegeia solve capillos,
"Ah nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit."

Many other instances of the same kind might be produced from the Elegiac verses of Ovid and Tibullus.

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art to conceal it: in so much that, if he finds himself under the necessity to introduce, on account of the rhymes, a superfluous idea, or an awkward expression, he must place it in the first line of the couplet, and not in the second; for the reader, naturally presuming that the lines were composed in the order in which the author arranges them, is more apt to suspect the second line to be accommodated to the first, than the first to the second. And this slight artifice is, in general, sufficient to impose on that degree of attention with which poetry is read. Who can doubt that, in the following lines, Pope wrote the first for the sake of the second?

"A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod :

"An honest man's the noblest work of God."

Were the first of these lines, or a line equally unmeaning, placed last, the couplet would have appeared execrable to a person of the most moderate taste.

It affords a strong confirmation of the foregoing observations, that the Poets of some nations have delighted in the practice of alliteration, as well as of rhyme, and have even considered it as an essential circumstance in versification. Dr. Beattie observes, that "some ancient Eng"lish poems are more distinguished by alliteration, than by any other po"etical contrivance. In the works of Langland, even when no regard "is had to rhyme, and but little to a rude sort of anapæstic measure, it 66 seems to have been a rule, that three words, at least, of each line "should begin with the same letter." A late author informs us, that, in the Icelandic poetry, alliteration is considered as a circumstance no less essential than rhyme. He mentions also several other restraints, which must add wonderfully to the difficulty of versification; and which appear to us to be perfectly arbitrary and capricious. If that really be the case, the whole pleasure of the reader or hearer arises from his surprise at the facility of the Poet's composition under these complicated restraints; that is, from his surprise at the command which the Poet has acquired over his thoughts and expressions. In our rhyme, I acknowledge, that the coincidence of sound is agreeable in itself; and only affirm, that the pleasure which the ear receives from it, is heightened by the other consideration.

III.

OF POETICAL FANCY.

THERE is another habit of association, which, in some men, is very remarkable; that which is the foundation of Poetical Fancy: a talent

"The Icelandic poetry required two things; viz. words with the same initial letters, and words of the same sound. It was divided into stanzas, each of which consisted of four couplets; and each of these couplets was again composed of two hemistichs, of which every one contained six syllables; and it was not allowed to augment this number, except in cases of the greatest necessity." See VAN TROIL'S Letters on Iceland, p. 208,

which agrees with Wit in some circumstances, but which differs from it essentially in others.

The pleasure we receive from Wit, agrees in one particular with the pleasure which arises from poetical allusions; that in both cases we are pleased with contemplating an analogy between two different subjects. But they differ in this, that the man of Wit has no other aim than to combine analogous ideas; whereas no allusion can, with propriety, have a place in serious poetry, unless it either illustrate or adorn the principal subject. If it has both these recommendations, the allusion is perfect. If it has neither, as is often the case with the allusions of Cowley and of Young, the Fancy of the Poet degenerates into Wit.

If the observations be well-founded, they suggest a rule with respect to poetical allusions, which has not always been sufficiently attended to. It frequently happens, that two subjects bear an analogy to each other in more respects than one; and where such can be found, they undoubtedly furnish the most favourable of all occasions for the display of Wit. But in serious poetry, I am inclined to think, that however striking these analogies may be, and although each of them might, with propriety, be made the foundation of a separate allusion, it is improper, in the course of the same allusion, to include more than one of them; as, by doing so, an author discovers an affectation of Wit, or a desire of tracing analogies, instead of illustrating or adorning the subject of his composition.

I formerly defined Fancy to be a power of associating ideas according to the relations of resemblance and analogy. This definition will probably be thought too general; and to approach too near to that given of Wit. In order to discover the necessary limitations. we shall consider what the circumstances are, which please us in poetical allusions. As these allusions are suggested by Fancy, and are the most striking instances in which it displays itself, the received rules of Critics with respect to them may throw some light on the mental power which gives them birth.

1. An allusion pleases, by illustrating a subject comparatively obscure. Hence, I apprehend it will be found, that allusions from the intellectual world to the material, are more pleasing, than from the material world to the intellectual. Mason, in his Ode to Memory, compares the influence of that faculty over our ideas, to the authority of a general over his troops:

"thou, whose sway

"The throng'd ideal hosts obey;

"Who bidst their ranks now vanish, now appear,

Flame in the van, or darken in the rear."

Would the allusion have been equally pleasing, from a general marshalling his soldiers, to Memory and the succession of ideas?

The effect of a literal and spiritless translation of a work of genius, has been compared to that of the figures which we see, when we look at the wrong side of a beautiful piece of tapestry. The allusion is in

*I speak here of pure and unmixed wit, and not of wit, blended, as it is most commonly, with some degree of humour.

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genious and happy; but the pleasure which we receive from it arises, not merely from the analogy which it presents to us, but from the illustration which it affords of the author's idea. No one, surely, in speaking of a piece of tapestry, would think of comparing the difference between its sides, to that between an original composition and a literal translation!

Cicero, and after him Mr. Locke, in illustrating the difficulty of attending to the subjects of our consciousness, have compared the Mind to the Eye, which sees every object around it, but is invisible to itself. To have compared the Eye, in this respect, to the Mind, would have been absurd.

Mr. Pope's comparison of the progress of youthful curiosity, in the pursuits of science, to that of a traveller among the Alps, has been much and justly, admired. How would the beauty of the allusion have been diminished, if the Alps had furnished the original subject, and not the illustration!

But although this rule holds in general, I acknowledge, that instances may be produced, from our most celebrated poetical performances, of allusions from material objects, both to the intellectual and the moral worlds. These, however, are comparatively few in number, and are not to be found in descriptive or in didactic works, but in compositions written under the influence of some particular passion, or which are meant to express some peculiarity in the mind of the author. Thus, a melancholy man, who has met with many misfortunes in life, will be apt to moralize on every physical event, and every appearance of nature; because his attention dwells more habitually on human life and conduct, than on the material objects around him. This is the case with the banished Duke, in Shakspeare's As you like it, who, in the language of that Poet.

"Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
"Sermons in stones, and good in every thing."

But this is plainly a distempered state of the mind; and the allusions please, not so much by the analogies they present, as by the picture they give of the character of the person to whom they have occurred.

2. An allusion pleases, by presenting a new and beautiful image to the mind. The analogy, or the resemblance between this image and the principal subject, is agreeable of itself, and is indeed necessary to furnish an apology for the transition which the writer makes; but the pleasure is wonderfully heightened, when the new image thus presented is a beautiful one. The following allusion, in one of Mr. Home's tragedies, appears to me to unite almost every excellence :

"Hope and fear, alternate sway'd his breast;
"Like light and shade upon a waving field,
"Coursing each other, when the flying clouds
"Now hide, and now revcal, the Sun."

Here the analogy is remarkably perfect; not only between light and hope, and between darkness and fear, but between the rapid succession of light and shade, and the momentary influences of these opposite

emotions and at the same time, the new image which is presented to us, is one of the most beautiful and striking in nature.

The foregoing observations suggest a reason why the principal stores of Fancy are commonly supposed to be borrowed from the material world. Wit has a more extensive province, and delights to make new combinations, whatever be the nature of the compared ideas: but the favourite excursions of Fancy, are from intellectual and moral subjects to the appearances with which our senses are conversant. The truth is, that such allusions please more than any others in poetry. According to this limited idea of Fancy, it presupposes, where it is possessed in an eminent degree, an extensive observation of natural objects, and a mind susceptible of strong impressions from them. It is thus only that a stock of images can be acquired: and that these images will be ready to present themselves, whenever any analogous subject occurs. And hence probably it is, that poetical genius is almost always united with an exquisite sensibility to the beauties of nature.

Before leaving the subject of fancy, it may not be improper to remark, that its two qualities are, liveliness and luxuriancy. The word lively refers to the quickness of the association. The word rich or luxurient to the variety of associated ideas.

IV.

OF INVENTION IN THE ARTS AND SCIENCES.

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To these powers of Wit and Fancy, that of Invention in the Arts and Sciences has a striking resemblance. Like them, it implies a command over certain classes of ideas, which in ordinary men are not equally subject to the will: and like them, too, it is the result of acquired habits, and not the original gift of nature.

Of the process of the mind in scientific invention, I propose afterwards to treat fully under the article of Reasoning; and I shall therefore confine myself at present to a few detached remarks upon some views of the subject which are suggested by the foregoing inquiries.

Before we proceed, it may be proper to take notice of the distinction between Invention and Discovery. The object of the former, as has been frequently remarked, is to produce something which had no existence before; that of the latter, to bring to light something which did exist, but which was concealed from common observation. Thus we say, Otto Guerricke invented the air pump; Sanctorius invented the thermometer; Newton and Gregory invented the reflecting telescope: Galileo discovered the solar spots; and Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood. It appears, therefore, that improvements in the Arts are properly called inventions; and that facts brought to light by means of observation, are properly called discoveries.

Agreeable to this analogy is the use which we inake of these words, when we apply them to subjects purely intellectual. As truth is eternal and immutable, and has no dependence on our belief or disbelief of it, a person who brings to light a truth formerly unknown, is said to make a discovery. A person, on the other hand, who contrives a new method of discovering truth, is called an inventor. Pythagoras, we say, discover

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