Imágenes de páginas

Some of them, however, are preserved by their inherent excellence. The Burlesque of Boileau's Ode on Namur has, in some parts, such airiness and levity as will always procure it readers, even among those who cannot compare it with the original. The epistle to Boileau is not so happy. The poems to the king are now perused only by young students, who read merely that they may learn to write ; and of the Carmen Seculare, I cannot but suspect that I might praise or censure it by caprice, without danger of detection ; for who can be supposed to have laboured through it? Yet the time has been when this neglected work was so popular, that it was translated into Latin by no common master.

His poem on the battle of Ramillies is necessarily tedious by the form of the stanza ; a uniform mass of ten lines, thirty five times repeated, inconsequential and slightly connected, must weary both the ear and, the understanding. His imitation of Spenser, which consists principally in I ween and I weet, without exclusion of later modes of speech, makes his poem neither ancient nor modern. His mention of Mars and Bellona, and his comparison of Marlborough to the eagle that bears the thunder of Jupiter, are all puerile and unaffecting; and yet more despi. cable is the long tale told by Lewis in his despair, of Brute and Troynovante, and the teeth of Cadmus, with his similes of the raven and eagle, and wolf and lion. By the help of such easy fictions, and vulgar topics, without acquaintance with life, and without knowledge of art or nature, a poem of any length, cold and lifeless like this, may be easily written on any subject.

In his epilogues to Phædra and to Lucius he is very happily facetious; but in the prologue before the queen, the pedant has found his way, with Minerva, Perseus, and Andromeda.

His epigrams and lighter pieces are, like those of others, sometimes elegant, sometimes trifling, and sometimes dull; among the best are the Camelion, and the epitaph on John and Joan.

Scarcely any one of our poets has written so much and trans. lated so little ; the version of Callimachus is sufficiently licentious; the paraphrase on St. Paul's exhortation to charity is eminently beautiful.

Alma is written in professed imitation of Hudibras, and has at least one accidental resemblance ; Hudibras wants a plan, because

it is left imperfect; Alma is imperfect, because it seems never to have had a plan. Prior appears not to have proposed to himself any drift or design, but to have written the casual dictates of the present moment.

What Horace said, when he imitated Lucilius, might be said of Butler by Prior, his numbers were not smooth nor neat. Prior excelled him in versification ; but he was, like Horace, inventore, minor ; he had not Butler's exuberance of matter and variety of illustration. The spangles of wit which he could afford he knew how to polish ; but he wanted the bullion of his master. Butler pours out a negligent profusion, certain of the weight, but careless of the stanap. Prior has comparatively little, but with that little he makes a fine show. Alma has many admirers, and was the only piece among Prior's works of which Pope said that he should wish to be the author.

Solomon is the work to which he intrusted the protection of his name, and which he expected succeeding ages to regard with veneration. His affection was natural ; it had undoubtedly been written with great labour ; and who is willing to think that he has been labouring in vain ? He had infused into it much knowledge and much thought; had often polished it to elegance, often dignified it with splendour, and sometimes heightened it to sublimity; he perceived in it many excellences, and did not discover that it wanted that without which all others are of small avail, the power of engaging attention and alluring curiosity.

Tediousness is the most fatal of all faults; negligences or errors are single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole ; other faults are censured and forgotten, but the power of tediousness propagates itself. He that is weary the first hour, is more weary the second; as bodies forced into motion, contrary to their tendency, pass more and more slowly through every successive interval of space.

Unhappily this pernicious failure is that which an author is least able to discover. We are seldom tiresome to ourselves ; and the act of composition fills and delights the mind with change of language and succession of images ; every couplet when produced is new, and novelty is the great source of pleasure. Perhaps no man ever thought a line superfluous when he first wrote it, or contracted his work till his ebullitions of invention had

subsided. And even if he should control his desire of immediate renown, and keep his work nine years unpublished, he will be still the author, and still in danger of deceiving himself; and if he consults his friends, he will probably find men who have more kindness than judgment, or more fear to offend than desire to instruct.

The tediousness of this poem proceeds not from the uniformity of the subject, for it is sufficiently diversified, but from the continued tenor of the narration ; in which Solomon relates the successive vicissitudes of his own mind, without the intervention of any other speaker, or the mention of any other agent, unless

be Abra ; the reader is only to learn what he thought, and to be told that he thought wrong. The event of every experiment is foreseen, and therefore the process is not much regarded.

Yet the work is far from deserving to be neglected. He that shall peruse it will be able to mark many passages to which he may recur for instruction or delight; many from which the poet may learn to write, and the philosopher to reason.

If Prior's poetry be generally considered, his praise will be that of correctness and industry, rather than of compass, of comprehension, or activity of fancy. He never made any effort of invention ; his greater pieces are only tissues of common thoughts; and his smaller, which consist of light images or single conceits, are not always his own. I have traced him among the French epigrammatists, and have been informed that he poached for prey among obscure authors. The Thief and Cordelier is, I supposé, generally considered as an original production ; with how much justice this epigram may tell, which was written by Georgius Sabinus, a poet now little known or read, though once the friend of Luther and Melancthon.

De Sacerdote Furem consolante.

Quidam sacrificus furem comitatus euntem

Huc ubi dat sontes carnificina neci.
Ne sis mestus, ait ; summi conviva Tonantis

Jam cum cælitibus, si modo credis, eris.
Ille gemens, si vera mihi solatia prebes,

Hospes apud superos sis meus oro, refert.
Sacrificus contra ; mihi non convivia fas est
Ducere, jejunans hac edo luce nihil.



What he has valuable he owes to his diligence and his judgment. His diligence has justly placed him among the most correct of the English poets; and he was one of the first that resolutely endeavoured at correctness. He never sacrifices accuracy to haste, nor indulges himself in contemptuous nego ligence, or impatient idleness ; he has no careless lines, or entangled sentiments ; his words are nicely selected, and his thoughts fully expanded. If this part of his character suffers any abatement, it must be from the disproportion of his rhymes, which have not always sufficient consonance, and from the admission of broken lines into his Solomon ; but perhaps he thought, like Cowley, that hemistichs ought to be admitted into heroic poetry.

He had apparently such rectitude of judgment as secured him from every thing that approached to the ridiculous or absurd ; but as laws operate in civil agency not to the excitement of virtue, but the repression of wickedness, so judgment in the operations of intellect can hinder faults, but not produce excellence. Prior is never low, nor very often sublime. It is said by Longinus of Euripides, that he forces himself sometimes into grandeur by violence of effort, as the lion kindles his fury by the lashes of his own tail. Whatever Prior obtains above mediocrity seems the effort of struggle and of toil. He has many vigorous but few happy lines; he has every thing by purchase, and nothing by gift ; he had no nightly visitations of the muse, no infu. sions of sentiment or felicities of fancy.

His diction, however, is more his own than that of any among the successors of Dryden ; he borrows no lucky turns, or commodious modes of language, from his predecessors. His phrases are original, but they are sometimes harsh; as he inherited no elegances, none has he bequeathed. His expression has every mark of laborious study; the line seldom seems to have been formed at once; the words did not come till they were called, and were then put by constraint into their places, where they do their duty, but do it sullenly. In his greater compositions there may be found more rigid stateliness than graceful dignity.

Of versification he was not negligent ; what he received from Dryden he did not lose ; neither did he increase the difficulty of

writing by unnecessary severity, but uses triplets and alexandrines without scruple. In his preface to Solomon he proposes some improvements, by extending the sense from one couplet to another, with variety of pauses. This he has attempted, but without success; his interrupted lines are unpleasing, and his sense as less distinct is less striking.

He has altered the stanza of Spenser, as a house is altered by building another in its place of a different form. With how little resemblance he has formed his new stanza to that of his master, these specimens will show.


She flying fast from heaven's hated face,
And from the world that her discovered wide,
Fled to the wasteful wilderness apace,
From living eyes her open shame to hide,
And lurk'd in rocks and caves long unespy'd.
But that fair crew of knights, and Una fair,
Did in that castle afterward abide,
To rest themselves, and weary powers repair,
Where store they found of all, that dainty was and rare.

To the close rock the frighted raven flies,
Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air ;
The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies,
When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near.
Ill starr'd did we our forts and lines forsake,
To dare our British foes to open fight;
Our conquest we by stratagem should wake;
Our triumph had been founded in our flight.
'Tis ours, by craft and by surprise to gain ;
'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the plain.

By this new structure of his lines he has avoided difficulties ; nor am I sure that he has lost any of the power of pleasing ; but he no longer imitates Spenser.

Some of his poems are written without regularity of measure ; for, when he commenced poet, we had not recovered from our Pindaric infatuation ; but he probably lived to be convinced, that the essence of verse is order and consonance.

His numbers are such as mere diligence may attain ; they seldom offend the ear, and seldom soothe it; they commonly

« AnteriorContinuar »