Σύμβαλον, ἐν δ' αυτοῖς ἔριδα ῥήγνοντο βαρείαν
Δεινὸν, δ ̓ ἐβρόντησε πατὴς ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε
Υψόθεν· αὐτὰς ἕνερθε Ποσειδάων ἐτίναξε
Γαῖαν ἀπειρεσίην, ορέων τ' αἰπεινὰ κάρηνα.
Πάντες δ' ἐσσείοντο πόδες πολυπιδακου ίδης,
Καὶ κορυφαί, Τρώων τε πόλις, καὶ νῆες ̓Αχαιών.
“Εδδεισεν δ' υπένερθεν ἄναξ ἐνέρων, Αϊδωνεύς,
Δείσας δ ̓ ἐκ θρόνου ἄλλο, καὶ ἴαχε· μὴ οἱ ὕπερθε
Γαῖαν ἀναῤῥήξειε Ποσειδάων ἐνοσίχθων,
Οἰκία δε θνητοῖσι καὶ ἀθανάτοισι φανείν

Σμερδαλέ ̓ ἐνρώεντα τά τε ςυγέουσι θεοί περ ̓

Τόσσος ἄρα κτύπος ὥρτο θεῶν ἔριδι ξυνιόντων.* Iliad, 20. 47, &c,

The works of Ossian (as I have elsewhere shewn) abound with examples of the Sublime. The subjects of that Author, and the manner in which he writes, are particularly favourable to it. He possesses all the plain and venerable manner of the ancient times. He deals in no superfluous or gaudy ornaments; but throws forth his images with a rapid conciseness, which enables them to strike the mind with the greatest force. Among poets of more polished times, we are to look for the graces of correct writing, for just proportion of parts, and skilfully conducted narration. In the midst of smiling scenery and pleasurable themes, the gay and the beautiful will appear, undoubtedly, to

But when the powers descending swell'd the fight,
Then tumult rose, fierce rage, and pale affright:
Now through the trembling shores Minerva calls,
And now she thunders from the Grecian walls.
Mars, hov'ring o'er his Troy, his terror shrouds
In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds;
Now through each Trojan heart he fury pours,
With voice divine, from Ilion's topmost towers........
Above, the Sire of gods his thunder rolls,
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles;
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid ground,
The forests wave, the mountains nod around;
Through all her summits tremble Ida's woods,
And from their sources boil her hundred floods:
Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain,
And the toss'd navics beat the heaving main.
Deep in the dismal region of the dead,

Th' infernal monarch rear'd his horrid head,

Leapt from his throne, lest Neptune's arm should lay
His dark dominions open to the day;

And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes,
Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful ev'n to gods.

Such wars th' immortals wage; such horrors rend

The world's vast concave, when the gods contend.

more advantage. But amidst the rude scenes of nature and of society, such as Ossian describes; amidst rocks and torrents, and whirlwinds, and battles, dwells the Sublime; and naturally associates itself with that grave and solemn spirit which distinguishes the author of Fingal, "As autumn's dark storms "pour from two echoing hills, so toward each other approach"ed the heroes. As two dark streams from high rocks meet "and mix, and roar on the plain; loud, rough, and dark, in battle, met Lochlin and Inisfail: chief mixed his strokes "with chief, and man with man. Steel clanging sounded on ❝ steel. Helmets are cleft on high blood bursts, and smokes "around. As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the

waves on high; as the last peal of the thunder of heaven; "such is the noise of battle. The groan of the people spread ་ over the hills. It was like the thunder of night, when "the cloud bursts on Cona, and a thousand Ghosts shriek "at once on the hollow wind." Never were images of more awful Sublimity employed to heighten the terror of battle.

I have produced these instances, in order to demonstrate how essential conciseness and simplicity are to Sublime Writing. Simplicity I place in opposition to studied and profuse ornament; and conciseness, to superfluous expression. The reason why a defect, either in conciseness or simplicity, is hurtful in a peculiar manner to the Sublime, I shall endeavour to explain. The emotion occasioned in the mind by some great or noble object, raises it considerably above its ordinary pitch. A sort of enthusiasm is produced, extremely agreeable while it lasts; but from which the mind is tending every moment to fall down into its ordinary situation. Now, when an author has brought us, or is attempting to bring us, into this state; if he multiplies words unnecessarily; if he decks the Sublime object which he presents to us, round and round, with glittering ornaments; nay, if he throws in any one decoration that sinks in the least below the capital image, that moment he alters the key; he relaxes the tension of the mind; the strength of the feeling is emasculated; the Beautiful may remain, but the Sublime is gone. When Julius Cæsar said to the pilot who was afraid to put to sea with him in a storm, “ Quid

"times? Cæsarem vehis;" we are struck with the daring magnanimity of one relying with such confidence on his cause and his fortune. These few words convey every thing necessary to give us the impression full. Lucan resolved to amplify and adorn the thought. Observe how every time he twists it round, it departs farther from the Sublime, till it ends at last in tumid declamation.

Sperne minas, iniquit, pelagi, ventoque furenti
Trade sinum: Italiam, si, cœlo auctore, recusas,
Me, petc. Sola tibi causa hæc est justa timoris
Victorem non nosse tuum; quem numina nunquam
Destiuunt; de quo male tunc Fortuna meretur
Cum post vota venit. Medias perrump procellas
Tutelà secure meà. Cœli isti fretique

Non puppis nostræ labor est. Hanc Cæsare pressam
A fluctu defendet onus; nam proderit undis

Iste racis

...Quid tanta strage peratur

Ignoras? quærit pelagi cœlique tumultu

Quid præstet fortuna mihi.*........

PHARS. V. 578.

On account of the great importance of simplicity and conciseness, I conceive rhyme, in English verse, to be, if not inconsistent with the Sublime, at least very unfavourable to it. The constrained elegance of this kind of verse, and studied smoothness of the sounds, answering regularly to each other at the end of the line, though they be quite consistent with gentle emo

* But Cæsar still superior to distress,
Fearless and confident of sure success,

Thus to the pilot loud................The seas despise,
And the vain threat'ning of the noisy skies;
Though gods deny thee yet Ausonian strand,
Yet go, I charge you, go at my command,
Thy ignorance alone can cause thy fears,

Thou know'st not what a freight thy vessel bears;
Thou know'st not I am he to whom 'tis given,
Never to want the care of watchful Heaven.

Obedient fortune waits my bumble thrall,

And always ready, comes before I call.

Let winds, and seas, loud wars at freedom wage,
And waste upon themselves their empty rage,
A stronger, mightier Dæmon is thy friend,
Thou, and thy bark, on Cæsar's fate depend.
Thou stand'st amaz'd to view this dreadful scene,
And wonder'st what the gods and fortune mean;
But artfully their bounties thus they raise,
And from my danger arrogate new praise:
Amidst the fears of death they bid me livé,
And still enhance what they are sure to give.

tions, yet weaken the native force of Sublimity; besides, that the superfluous words which the poet is often obliged to introduce, in order to fill up the rhyme, tend farther to enfeeble it.. Homer's description of the nod of Jupiter, as shaking the heavens, has been admired, in all ages, as highly Sublime. Literally translated, it runs thus: "He spoke, and bending his "sable brows, gave the awful ned; while he shook the celestial "locks of his immortal head, all Olympus was shaken." Mr. Pope translates it thus:

He spoke; and awful bends his sable brows,
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of a God.

High heaven with trembling the dread signal took,
And all Olympus to its centre shook.

The image is spread out, and attempted to be beautiful; but it is, in truth, weakened. The third line-" The stamp "of fate, and sanction of a God," is merely expletive; and introduced for no other reason but to fill up the rhyme; for it interrupts the description, and clogs the image. For the same reason, out of mere compliance with the rhyme, Jupiter is represented as shaking his locks before he gives the nod,"Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod," which is trifling, and without meaning, Whereas, in the original, the hair of his head shaken, is the effect of his nod, and makes a happy picturesque circumstance in the description.*

The boldness, freedom, and variety of our blank verse, is infinitely more favourable than rhyme, to all kinds of Sublime poetry. The fullest proof of this is afforded by Milton; an author, whose genius led him eminently to the Sublime. The whole first and second books of Paradise Lost, are continued instances of it. Take only, for an example, the follow-` ing noted description of Satan, after his fall, appearing at the head of the infernal hosts :

He, above the rest,

In shape and gesture proudly eminent,
Stood like a tower : his form had not yet lost
All her original brightness, nor appear'd
Less than archangel ruin'd; and the excess
Of glory obscur'd; As when the sun, new risen,

*See Webb on the Beauties of Poetry.
H

Looks through the horizontal misty air,

Shorn of his beams; or, from behind the moon,

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds

On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone
Above them all th' archangel....

Here concur a variety of sources of the Sublime: The principal object eminently great; a high superior nature, fallen indeed, but erecting itself against distress; the grandeur of the principal object heightened, by associating it with so noble an idea as that of the sun suffering an eclipse; this picture shaded with all those images of change and trouble, of darkness and terror, which coincide so finely with the Sublime emotion; and the whole expressed in a style and versification, easy, natural, and simple, but magnificent.

I have spoken of simplicity and conciseness, as essential to Sublime Writing. In my general description of it, I mentioned Strength, as another necessary requisite. The strength of description arises in a great measure, from a simple conciseness; but, it supposes also something more; namely, a proper choice of circumstances in the description, so as to exhibit the object in its full and most striking point of view. For every object. has several faces, so to speak, by which it may be presented to us, according to the circumstances with which we surround it ; and will appear eminently Sublime, or not, in proportion as all these circumstances are happily chosen, and of a Sublime kind. Here lies the great art of the writer; and, indeed, the great difficulty of Sublime description. If the description be too general, and divested of circumstances, the object appears in a faint light; it makes a feeble impression, or no impression at all, on the reader. At the same time, if any trivial or improper circumstances are mingled, the whole is degraded.

A storm or tempest, for instance, is a Sublime object in nature. But, to render it Sublime in description, it is not enough, either to give us mere general expressions concerning the violence of the tempest, or to describe its common vulgar effects, in overthrowing trees and houses. It must be painted with such circumstances as fill the mind with great and awful ideas. This is very happily done by Virgil, in the following passage;