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nishing sentiments where he is not fired by the Iliad: he every where charms and pleases us by the force of his own genius, but feldom elevates and transports us where he does not fetch his hints from Homer.
Milton's chief talent, and indeed his distinguishing excellence, lies in the sublimity of his thoughts. There are others of the Moderns who rival him in every other part of poetry; but in the greatness of his Sentiments he triumphs over all the poets, both modern and ancient, Homer only excepted. It is impossible for the imagination of man to distend itself with greater ideas than those which he has laid together in his First, Second, and Sixth Books. The Seventh, which describes the creation of the world, is likewise wonderfully sublime, tho' not fo apt to stir up emotion in the mind of the reader, nor, consequently, so perfect in the epic. way of writing; because it is filled with less action, Let the judicious reader compare what Longinus has observed on several passages in Homer, and he will find parallels for most of them in the Paradise Lost.
From what has been said we may infer, that as there are two kinds of Sentiments, the natural and the sublime, which are always to be pursued in an heroic poem, there are also two kinds of thoughts which are carefully to be avoided. The first are such as are affected and unnatural, the second such as are mean and vulgar. As for the first kind of thoughts, we meet with little or nothing that is like them in Virgil; he has none of those trifling points and puerilities that are
fo often to be met with in Ovid, none of the epigrammatic turns of Lucan, none of those swelling fentiments which are so frequently in Statius and Claudian, none of those mixed embellishments of Tafso. Every thing is just and natural. His Sentiments show that he had a perfect insight into human nature, and that he knew every thing which was the most proper to affect it.
Mr. Dryden has in some places, which I may hereafter take notice of, misrepresented Virgil's way of thinking as to this particular, in the translation he has given us of the Æneid. I do not remember that Homer any where falls into the faults above mentioned, which were indeed the false refinements of later ages. Milton, it most be confest, has sometimes crred in this respect, as I shall Mew more at large in another paper; though, considering all the poets of the age in which he writ were infected with this wrong way of thinking, he is rather to be admired that he did not give more into it, than that he did sometimes comply with the vicious taste which still prevails fo much among modern writers.
But since several thoughts may be natural which are low and grovelling, an epic poet should not only avoid such sentiments as are unnatural or affected, but also such as are mean and vulgar. Homer has opened a great field of raillery to men of more delicacy than greatness of genius, by the homeliness of some of his sentiments: but, as I have before faid,
these are rather to be imputed to the simplicity of the age in which he lived, to which I may also add, of that which he described, than to any imperfection in that divine poet. Zoilus among the Ancients, and Monsieur Perrault among the Moderns, pushed their ridicule very far upon him, on account of some such sentiments. There is no blemish to be observed in Virgil under this head, and but a very few in Milton.
I shall give but one instance of this impropriety of thought in Homer, and at the same time compare it with an instance of the same nature both in Virgil and Milton. Sentiments which raise laughter can very feldom be admitted with any decency into an heroic poem,
whose business is to excite passions of a much nobler nature. Homer, however, in his characters of Vulcan and Thersites, in his history of Mars and Venus, in his behaviour of Irus, and in other passages, has been observed to have lapsed into the burlesque character, and to have departed from that serious air which seems essential to the magnificence of an epic poem. I remember butone laugh in the whole Æneid, which rises in the Fifth Book upon Monætes, where he is represented as thrown over-board, and drying himself upon a rock. But this piece of mirth is so well timed, that the severest critic can have nothing to say against it, for it is in the book of Games and Diverfions, where the reader's mind may be supposed to be sufficiently relaxed for such an entertainment. The only piece of pleasantry in Paradise Lost, is where the
evil spirits are described as rallying the angels upon the success of their new-invented artillery. This paffage I look upon to be the most exceptionable in the whole Poem, as being nothing else but a string of puns, and those, too, very indifferent.
..-..-Satan bcheld their plight,
To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood.
Having already treated of the Fable, the Characters, and Sentiments, in the Paradise Lost, we are, in the last place, to consider the Language ; and as the learned world is very much divided upon Milton as to this point, I hope they will excuse me if I appcar particular in any of my opinions, and incline to those who judge the most advantageously of the Author.
It is requsite that the Language of an heroic poem
should be both perspicuous and sublime. In proportion as either of these two qualities are wanting the Language is imperfet. Perspicuity is the first and most necessary qualification; infomuch that a good-natured reader fometimes overlooks a little flip even in the grammar or fyntax, where it is impossible for him to mistake the poet's sense. Of this kind is that passage in Milton, wherein he speaks of Satan,
......God and his Son except,
Created thing nonght valu'd he nor funn'd.
Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His fons, the faireft of her daughters Eve. It is plain that, in the former of these passages, according to the natural syntax, the divine persons mentioned in the first line are represented as created beings; and that in the other, Adam and Eve are confounded with their fons and daughters. Such little blemishes as these, when the thought is great and natural, we should, with Horace, impute to a pardonable inadvertency, or to the weakness of human nature, which cannot attend to each minute particular, and give the last finishing to every circumstance in so long a work. The ancient critics, therefore, who were acted by a spirit of candour rather than that of cavilling, invented certain figures of speech on purpose to palliate little errors of this nature in the writings of those authors who had so many greater beauties to atone for them,