inftruction being concealed, the reader may grow wifer without perceiving he is taught, and that while the most ufeful leffons are inculcated, the whole may appear only as an amusement. For this reafon it is neceffary often to digrefs from the fubject, and to introduce episodes of fuch a nature that at the end they may lead you naturally to your fubject again, and then feem of a piece with it. Many inftances of thefe kinds of digreffions may be feen in the authors we have mention'd, but efpecially in Virgil, who, after he has been wandering, and to all appearance forgot his husbandmen and their concerns, `is by fome happy rural incident, arifing naturally out of his fubject, brought back to his bufinefs again, and connects and makes every thing he has met with conducive to his main defign.

In thefe digreffions and epifodes it is alfo of the utmost confequence to introduce the pathetic, and agitate the affections; for it is ever to be observed, in works of this nature, that a digreffion properly introduced, and fo as to awaken the paffions, and ftrike the heart, is of more importance than a multitude of ornamental defcriptions, and will be read again and again with pleafure; while, to other paffages that are merely inftructive, the mind can hardly attend a fecond time, tho' ever fo well decorated. The understanding feels no pleasure in being, inftructed often in the fame thing; but the heart is ever open to an affecting tale, and receives a pleasure every time it is repeated.

With regard to the ftyle or drefs of thefe poems, it fhould be fo rich as to hide the nakedness of the fubject, and the barrennefs of the precepts fhould be loft in the luftre of the language. It ought (fays Mr. Warton *) to abound in the most bold and forcible metaphors, the moft glowing and picturefque epithets; it ought to be elevated and enliven'd by pomp of numbers and majesty of words, and by every figure that can lift a language above the vulgar and current expreffions,' One may add, that in no kind of poetry (not even in the fublime ode) is beauty of expreffion fo much to be regarded as in this. For the epic writer fhould be very cautious of in

*See his Differtation on Didactic Poetry.

dulging himself in too florid a manner of expreffion, efpecially in the dramatic parts of his fable, where he introduces dialogue: And the writer of tragedy cannot fall into fo naufeous and unnatural an affectation, as to put laboured defcriptions, pompous epithets, ftudied phrafes, and high-flown metaphors, into the mouths of his characters. But as the didactic poet fpeaks in his own perfon, it is neceffary and proper for him to use a brighter colouring of ftile, and to be more ftudious of ornament. And this is agreeable to an admirable precept of Ariftotle, which no writer fhould ever forget,

that diction ought moft to be labour'd in the unactive, that is the defcriptive parts of a poem, in which the opinions, manners and paffions of men are not reprefented; for too glaring an expreflion obfcures the manners and the fentiments.'

We have already obferved that any thing in nature may be the fubject of this poem. Some things however will appear to more advantage than others, as they give a greater latitude to genius, and admit of more poctical ornaments. Natural hiftory and philofophy are copious fubjects. Precepts in thefe might be decorated with all the flowers in poetry; and, as Dr. Trapp obferves, how can poetry be better employed, or more agreeably to its nature and dignity, than in celebrating the works of the great Creator, and defcribing the nature and generation of animals, vegetables, and minerals; the revolutions of the heavenly bodies; the motions of the earth; the flux and reflux of the fea; the caufe of thunder, lightning, and other meteors; the attraction of the magnet; the gravitation, cohefion, and repulfion of matter; the impulfive motion of light; the flow progreffion of founds; and other amazing phænomena of nature. Most of the arts and fciences are also proper fubjects for this poem, and none are more fo than its two fifter arts, painting and mufic. In the former, particularly, there is room for the moft entertaining precepts concerning the difpofal of colours; the arrangement of lights and fhades; the fecret attractives of beauty; the various ideas which make up the one; the diftinguishing between the attitudes proper to either fex, and every palLon; the reprefenting profpects of buildings, battles,

or the country; and laftly, concerning the nature of imitation, and the power of painting. What a boundlefs field of invention is here? What room for defcrip. tion, comparison, and poetical fable? How eafy the tranfition, at any time, from the draught to the original, from the fhadow to the fubitance? and from hence, what noble excurfions may be made into hiftory, into panegyric upon the greatest beauties or heroes of the paft or prefent age? The task, I confefs is difficult ; but, according to that noted, but true faying, fo are all things that are great.'

A

CHAP. XV.

Of TALES.

Tale implies nothing more than a relation of a fimple action, and therefore fhould not be embaraffed with a multitude of foreign circumstances, but may admit of fuch digreffions as arife naturally from the fubject, and do not break in upon, or obfcure the main defign. It fhould inculcate fome useful leffon, and be both interesting and perplexing, in order that it may excite and fupport the attention of the reader; for great part of the pleasure or entertainment which the mind receives from a well-written Tale, will be found to arife from the suspense and anxiety we are kept in; and which, (as in the plot of a Tragedy or Comedy) fhould not be removed till the end. Were the whole fcope and defign, or, if I may fo fpeak, the point of the Tale first difcovered, the reader would grow languid and indifferent, and have nothing to attend to but the diction and verfi. fication.

The reader will find thefe rules illuftrated in the HERMIT, a Tale, by Mr. PARNEL; which we efteem an excellent example.

The HERMIT. A Tale. By Mr. PARNEL.

Far in a wild, unknown to publick view,
From youth to age a rev'rend Hermit grew :
The mofs his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well.
Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days,
Fray'r all his bus'nefs, all his pleasure praise.
A life fo facred, fuch ferene repofe,

Seem'd heav'n itfelf, 'till one fuggeftion rofe;
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey,
This fprung fome doubt of Providence's fway:
His hopes no more a certain profpect boast,
And all the tenor of his foul is loft:

So when a fmooth expanfe receives impreft
Calm nature's image on its watry breast,
Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,
And skies beneath with anfw'ring colours glow;
But if a ftone the gentle fea divide,

Swift rufiling circles curl on ev'ry fide,
And glimmering fragments of a broken fun,
Banks, trees, and fkies, in thick diforder run.

To clear this doubt, to know the world by fight,
To find if books, or fwains report it right;
(For yet by fwains alone the world he knew,
Whofe feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew).
He quits his cell; the pilgrim ftaff he bore,
And fix'd the fcallop in his hat before;
Then with the Sun a rifing journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.

The morn was wafted in the pathless grass, And long and lonefome was the wild to pafs; But when the fouthern fun had warm'd the day, A youth came pofting o'er a croffing way; His rayment decent, his complexion fair, And foft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cry'd; And hail, my fon, the rev'rend Sire reply'd: Words follow'd words, from queftion answer flow'd, And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road; "Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,

While in their age they differ, join in heart :
Thus ftands an aged elm in ivy bound;
Thus youthful ivy clafps an elm around.

Now funk the fun; the clofing hour of day
Came onward, mantled o'er with fober grey :
Nature in filence bid the world repose:
When near the road a stately palace rose:
There by the moon thro' ranks of trees they pass,
Whofe verdure crown'd their floping fides of grafs.
It chanc'd the noble mafter of the dome
Still made his house the wand'ring ftranger's home:
Yet ftill the kindness, from a thirst of praife,
Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease.
The pair arrive the liv'ry fervants wait;
Their lord receives them at the pompous gate.
The table groans with coftly piles of food,
And all is more than hofpitably good.

Then led to reft, the day's long toil they drown,
Deep funk in fleep, and filk, and heaps of down.
At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day
Along the wide canals the zephyrs play;
Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep,
And shake the neighb'ring wood to banish sleep.
Up rife the guests, obedient to the call;
An early banquet deck'd the fplendid hall;
Rich lufcious wine a golden goblet grac'd,
Which the kind mafter forc'd the guests to tafte.
Then pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go;
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe:
His cup was vanifh'd; for in fecret guife
The younger guest purloin'd the glitt'ring prize.
As one who 'fpies a ferpent in his way,
Glift'ning and basking in the fummer ray,
Disorder'd ftops to fhun the danger near,
Then walks with faintnefs on, and looks with fear;
So feem'd the fire, when far upon the road,
The fhining spoil his wiley partner fhow'd.

He flopp'd with filence, walk'd with trembling heart,
And much he wish'd, but durft not ask to part;
Murm'ring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard,
That generous actions meet a base reward.