dancing. And, therefore, here it is in the poet's power to give us a lively idea of the kind of motion he would describe, by means of sounds which correspond, in our imagination, with that motion. Long syllables naturally give the impression of slow motion; as in this line of Virgil:

Olli inter sese magna vi brachia tollunt.En. viii. 452.

A succession of short syllables presents quick motion to the mind; as,

Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.—Æn. viii. 596.

Both Homer and Virgil are great masters of this beauty, and their works abound with instances of it; most of them, indeed, so often quoted, and so well known, that it is needless to produce them. I shall give one instance, in English, which seems happy. It is the description of a sudden calm on the seas, in a poem entitled The Fleece.

-With easy course

The vessels glide; unless their speed be stopp'd
By dead calms, that oft lie on these smooth seas
When every zephyr sleeps; then the shrouds drop;
The downy feather on the cordage hung

Moves not; the flat sea shines like yellow gold
Fus'd in the fire, or like the marble floor

Of some old temple wide.

The third set of objects, which I mentioned the sound of words as capable of representing, consists of the passions and emotions of the mind. Sound may, at first view, appear foreign to these; but that here, also, there is some sort of connection, is sufficiently proved by the power which music has to awaken or to assist certain passions, and, according as its strain is varied, to introduce one train of ideas, rather than another. This, indeed, logically speaking, cannot be called a resemblance between the sense and the sound, seeing long or short syllables have no natural resemblance to any thought or passion. But if the arrangement of syllables, by their sound alone, recal one set of ideas more readily than another, and dispose the mind for entering into that affection which the poet means to raise, such arrangement may, justly enough, be said to resemble the sense, or be similar and correspondent to it. I admit, that in many instances, which are supposed to display this beauty of accommodation of sound to the sense, there is much room for imagination to work; and, according as the reader is struck by a passage, he will often fancy a resemblance between the sound

and the sense, which others cannot discover. He modulates the numbers to his own disposition of mind; and, in effect, makes the music which he imagines himself to hear. However, that there are real instances of this kind, and that poetry is capable of some such expression, cannot be doubted. Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, affords a very beautiful exemplification of it, in the English language. Without much study or reflection, a poet describing pleasure, joy, and agreeable objects, from the feeling of his subject, naturally runs into smooth, liquid, and flowing numbers.

Or,

-Namque ipsa decoram

Cæsariem nato genetrix, lumenque juventæ

Perpureum, et lætos oculis affllarat honores.-Æn. i. 589.

Devenere locos lætos, et amo na vireta

Fortunatorum nemorum, sedesque beatas ;

Largior hic campos æther et lumine vestit

Purpureo; solemque suum, sua sidera norant.-Æn. vi. 638.

Brisk and lively sensations exact quicker and more animated numbers.

-Juvenum manus emicat ardens

Litus in Hesperium.

Æn. vi. 5.

Melancholy and gloomy subjects naturally express themselves in slow measures, and long words:

In those deep solitudes and awful cells,

Where heavenly pensive Contemplation dwells.

Et caligantem nigra formidine lucum.-Georg. iv. 468.

I have now given sufficient openings into this subject: a moderate acquaintance with the good poets, either ancient or modern, will suggest many instances of the same kind. And with this, I finish the discussion of the structure of sentences; having fully considered them under all the heads I mentioned of perspicuity, unity, strength, and musical arrangement.

LECTURE XIV.

ORIGIN AND NATURE OF FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE.

HAVING now finished what related to the construction of sentences, I proceed to other rules concerning style. My general division of the qualities of style, was into perspicuity and or

nament. Perspicuity, both in single words and in sentences, I have considered. Ornament, as far as it arises from a graceful, strong, or melodious construction of words, has also been treated of. Another, and a great branch of the ornament of style, is, figurative language; which is now to be the subject of our consideration, and will require a full discussion.

Our first inquiry must be, What is meant by figures of speech ?*

In general, they always imply some departure from simplicity of expression; the idea which we intend to convey, not only enunciated to others, but enunciated in a particular manner, and with some circumstance added, which is designed to render the impression more strong and vivid. When I say, for instance,That a good man enjoys comfort in the midst of adversity; I just express my thought in the simplest manner possible But when I say, "To the upright there ariseth light in darkness; the same sentiment is expressed in a figurative style; a new circumstance is introduced; light is put in the place of comfort, and darkness is used to suggest the idea of adversity. In the same manner. to say, "It is impossible, by any search we can make, to explore the divine nature fully," is to make a simple proposition. But when we say, "Canst thou, by searching, find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection? It is high as heaven, what canst thou do? deeper than hell, what canst thou know?" This introduces a figure into style; the proposition being not only expressed, but admiration and astonishment being expressed together with it.

But, though figures imply a deviation from what may be reckoned the most simple form of speech, we are not thence to conclude, that they imply any thing uncommon, or unnatural. This is so far from being the case, that on very many occasions they are both the most natural, and the most common method of uttering our sentiments. It is impossible to compose any discourse without using them often; nay, there are few sentences of any length, in which some expression or other, that may be termed a figure, does not occur. From what causes this happens, shall be afterwards explained. The fact, in the mean

*On the subject of figures of speech, all the writers who treat of rhetoric or composition, have insisted largely. To make references, therefore, on this subject, were endless. On the foundations of figurative language, in general, one of the most sensible and instructive writers appears to me to be M. Marsais, in his Traité des Tropes pour servir d'Introduction à la Rhétorique, et à la Logique. For observations on particular figures, the Elements of Criticism may be consulted, where the subject is fully handled, and illustrated by a great variety of *xamples.

time, shows that they are to be accounted part of that language which nature dictates to men. They are not the inventions of the schools, nor the mere product of study: on the contrary, the most illiterate speak in figures, as often as the most learned. Whenever the imaginations of the vulgar are much awakened, or their passions inflamed against one another, they will pour forth a torrent of figurative language, as forcible as could be employed by the most artificial declaimer.

What then is it, which has drawn the attention of critics a and rhetoricians so much to these forms of speech? It is this: they remarked, that in them consists much of the beauty and the force of language; and found them always to bear some characters, or distinguishing marks, by the help of which they could reduce them under separate classes and heads. To this, perhaps, they owe their name of figures. As the figure or shape of one body distinguishes it from another, so these forms of speech have, each of them, a cast or turn peculiar to itself, which both distinguishes it from the rest, and distinguishes it from simple expression. Simple expression just makes our idea known to others; but figurative language, over and above, bestows a particular dress upon that idea; a dress which both makes it to be remarked, and adorns it. Hence, this sort of language became early a capital object of attention to those who studied the powers of speech.

Figures, in general, may be described to be that language, which is prompted either by the imagination, or by the passions. The justness of this description will appear, from the more particular account I am afterwards to give of them. Rhetoricians commonly divide them into two great classes; figures of words, and figures of thought. The former, figures of words, are commonly called tropes, and consist in a word's being employed to signify something that is different from its original and primitive meaning; so that if you alter the word, you destroy the figure. Thus, in the instance I gave before; "Light ariseth to the upright in darkness." The trope consists in light and darkness," being not meant literally, but substituted for comfort and adversity, on account of some resemblance or analogy which they are supposed to bear to these conditions of life. The other class, termed figures of thought, supposes the words to be used in their proper and literal meaning, and the figure to consist in the turn of the thought; as is the case in exclamations, interrogations, apostrophes, and comparisons; where, though you vary the words that are used, or translate them from one language

into another, you may, nevertheless, still preserve the same figure in the thought. This distinction, however, is of no great use; as nothing can be built upon it in practice; neither is it always very clear. It is of little importance whether we give to some particular mode of expression the name of a trope, or of a figure; provided we remember, that figurative language always imports some colouring of the imagination, or some emotion of passion, expressed in our style: and, perhaps, figures of imagination, and figures of passion, might be a more useful distribution of the subject. But, without insisting on any artificial divisions, it will be more useful, that I inquire into the origin and the nature of figures. Only, before I proceed to this, there are two general observations which it may be proper to premise.

The first is, concerning the use of rules with respect to figurative language. I admit, that persons may both speak and write with propriety who know not the names of any of the figures of speech, nor ever studied any rules relating to them. Nature, as was before observed, dictates the use of figures; and, like Mons. Jourdain, in Moliere, who had spoken for forty years in prose, without ever knowing it; many a one uses metaphorical expressions to good purpose, without any idea of what a metahor is. It will not, however, follow thence, that rules are of no service. All science arises from observations on practice. Practice has always gone before method and rule; but method and rule have afterwards improved and perfected practice, in every art. We every day meet with persons who sing agreeably, without knowing one note of the gamut. Yet it has been found of importance to reduce these notes to a scale, and to form an art of music; and it would be ridiculous to pretend, that the art is of no advantage, because the practice is founded in nature. Propriety and beauty of speech are certainly as improveable as the ear or the voice; and to know the principles of this beauty, or the reasons which render one figure, or one manner of speech, preferable to another, cannot fail to assist and direct a proper choice.

But I must observe, in the next place, that, although this part of style merits attention, and is a very proper object of science and rule; although much of the beauty of composition depends on figurative language; yet we must beware of imagining that it depends solely, or even chiefly, upon such language. It is not so. The great place which the doctrine of tropes and figures has occupied in systems of rhetoric; the over-anxious care which has been shown in giving names to a vast variety of