Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres: Lecture XXXIX — Pastoral Poetry — Lyric Poetry

Blair, Hugh · Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres (Hugh Blair

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In the last lecture, I gave an account of the rise and progress of poetry, and made some observations on the nature of English versification. I now proceed to treat of the chief kinds of poetical composition, and of the critical rules that relate to them. I shall follow that order which is most simple and natural; beginning with the lesser forms of poetry, and ascending from them to the epic and dramatic, as the most dignified. This lecture shall be employed on pastoral and lyric poetry.

Though I begin with the consideration of pastoral poetry, it is not because I consider it as one of the earliest forms of poetical composition. On the contrary, I am of opinion that it was not cultivated as a distinct species, or subject of writing, until society had advanced in refinement. Most authors have, indeed, indulged the fancy, that because the life which mankind at first led was rural, therefore their first poetry was pastoral, or employed in the celebration of rural scenes and objects. I make no doubt, that it would borrow many of its images and allusions from those natural objects with which men were best acquainted; but I am persuaded, that the calm and tranquil scenes of rural felicity were not, by any means, the first objects which inspired that strain of composition, which we now call poetry. It was inspired, in the first periods of every nation, by events and objects which roused men’s passions; or, at least, awakened their wonder and admiration. The actions of their gods and heroes, their own exploits in war, the successes or misfortunes of their countrymen and friends, furnished the first themes to the bards of every country. What was of a pastoral kind in their compositions, was incidental only. They did not think of choosing for their theme the tranquillity and the pleasures of the country, as long as these were daily and familiar objects to them. It was not till men had begun to be assembled in great cities, after the distinctions of rank and station were formed, and the bustle of courts and large societies was known, that pastoral poetry assumed its present form. Men then began to look back upon the more simple and innocent life which their forefathers led, or which, at least, they fancied them to have led: they looked back upon it with pleasure, and in those rural scenes, and pastoral occupations, imagining a degree of felicity to take place, superior to what they now enjoyed, conceived the idea of celebrating it in poetry. It was in the court of King Ptolemy, that Theocritus wrote the first pastorals with which we are acquainted; and, in the court of Augustus, he was imitated by Virgil.

But whatever may have been the origin of pastoral poetry, it is undoubtedly a natural and very agreeable form of poetical composition. It recalls to our imagination those gay scenes, and pleasing views of nature, which commonly are the delight of our childhood and youth; and to which, in more advanced years, the greatest part of men recur with pleasure. It exhibits to us a life, with which we are accustomed to associate the ideas of peace, of leisure, and of innocence; and, therefore, we readily set open our heart to such representations as promise to banish from our thoughts the cares of the world; and to transport us into calm elysian regions. At the same time, no subject seems to be more favourable to poetry. Amidst rural objects, nature presents, on all hands, the finest field for description; and nothing appears to flow more of its own accord, into poetical numbers, than rivers and mountains, meadows and hills, flocks and trees, and shepherds void of care. Hence, this species of poetry has, at all times, allured many readers, and excited many writers. But, notwithstanding the advantages it possesses, it will appear from what I have farther to observe upon it, that there is hardly any species of poetry which is more difficult to be carried to perfection, or in which fewer writers have excelled.

Pastoral life may be considered in three different views: either such as it now actually is; when the state of shepherds is reduced to be a mean, servile, and laborious state; when their employments are become disagreeable, and their ideas gross and low; or such as we may suppose it once to have been, in the more early and simple ages, when it was a life of ease and abundance, when the wealth of men consisted chiefly in flocks and herds, and the shepherd, though unrefined in his manners, was respectable in his state; or lastly, such as it never was, and never can in reality be, when, to the ease, innocence, and simplicity of the early ages, we attempt to add the polished taste and cultivated manners of modern times. Of these three states, the first is too gross and mean, the last too refined and unnatural, to be made the ground-work of pastoral poetry. Either of these extremes is a rock upon which the poet will split, if he approach too near it. We shall be disgusted if he gives us too much of the servile employments, and low ideas of actual peasants, as Theocritus is censured for having sometimes done: and if, like some of the French and Italian writers of pastorals, he makes his shepherds discourse as if they were courtiers and scholars, he then retains the name only, but wants the spirit of pastoral poetry.

He must, therefore, keep in the middle station between these. He must form to himself the idea of a rural state, such as in certain periods of society may have actually taken place, where there was ease, equality, and innocence; where shepherds were gay and agreeable, without being learned or refined; and plain and artless without being gross and wretched. The great charm of pastoral poetry arises, from the view which it exhibits of the tranquillity and happiness of a rural life. This pleasing illusion, therefore, the poet must carefully maintain. He must display to us all that is agreeable in that state, but hide whatever is displeasing.* Let him paint its simplicity and innocence to the full; but cover its rudeness and misery. Distresses, indeed, and anxieties he may attribute to it; for it would be perfectly unnatural to suppose any condition of human life to be without them; but they must be of such a nature, as not to shock the fancy with any thing peculiarly disgusting in the pastoral life. The shepherd may well be afflicted for the displeasure of his mistress, or for the loss of a favourite lamb. It is a sufficient recommendation of any state, to have only such evils as these to deplore. In short, it is the pastoral life somewhat embellished and beautified, at least, seen on its fairest side only, that the poet ought to present to us. But let him take care that, in embellishing nature, he do not altogether disguise her; or pretend to join with rural simplicity and happiness, such improvements as are unnatural and foreign to it. If it be not exactly real life which he presents to us, it must, however, be somewhat that resembles it. This, in my opinion, is the general idea of pastoral poetry. But, in order to examine it more particularly, let us consider, first, the scenery; next, the characters; and, lastly, the subjects and actions, which this sort of composition should exhibit.

As to the scene, it is clear, that it must always be laid in the country, and much of the poet’s merit depends on describing it beautifully. Virgil is, in this respect, excelled by Theocritus, whose descriptions of natural beauties are richer and more picturesque

* In the following beautiful lines of the first Eclogue, Virgil has, in the true spirit of a pastoral poet, brought together as agreeable an assemblage of images of rural pleasure as can any where be found:

Fortunate senex! hic inter flumina nota,

Et fontes sacros, frigus captabis opacum.

Hinc tibi, quae semper vicino ab limite sepes,

Hyblaeis apibus, florem depasta salicti,

Saepe levem somnum suadebit. inire susurro.

Hinc alta sub rupe, canet frondator ad auras;

Nec tamen interea raucy, tua cura, palumbes,

Nec gemere aeria cessabit turtur ab ulmo.

Happy old man! here mid th’ accustom’d streams And sacred springs, you’ll shun the scorching beams, While from yon willow fence, thy pasture’s bound, The bees that suck their flowery stores around,

Shall sweetly mingle, with the whisp’ring boughs, Their lulling murmurs, and invite repose.

While from steep rocks the pruner’s song is heard; Nor the soft cooing dove, thy fav’rite bird,

Meanwhile shall cease to breathe her melting strain, Nor turtles from the aerial elms to plain.

Warton.

than those of the other.* In every pastoral, a scene, or rural prospect, should be distinctly drawn, and set before us. It is not enough, that we have those unmeaning groups of violets and roses, of birds, and brooks, and breezes, which our common pastoral-mongers throw together, and which are perpetually recurring upon us without variation. A good poet ought to give us such a landscape, as a painter could copy after. His objects must be particularized; the stream, the rock, or the tree, must each of them stand forth, so as to make a figure in the imagination, and to give us a pleasing conception of the place where we are. A single object happily introduced, will sometimes distinguish and characterize a whole scene; such as the antique rustic sepulchre, a very beautiful object in a landscape, which Virgil has set before us, and which he has taken from Theocritus.

Hinc adeo media est nobis via; jamque sepulchrum

Incipit apparere Bianoris: hic ubi densas

Agricolae stringunt frondes. Ecl. IX.

* What rural scenery, for instance, can be painted in more lively colours, than the following description exhibits?

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Theocrit. Idyl. vii.

. .on soft beds recline

Of lentisk, and young branches of the vine;

Poplars and elms above their foliage spread,

Lent a cool shade, and wav’d the breezy head;

Below, a stream, from the nymph’s sacred cave,

In free meanders led its murm’ring wave.

In the warm sunbeams, verdant shades among,

Shrill grasshoppers renew’d their plaintive song;

At distance far, conceal’d in shades, alone,

Sweet Philomela pour’d her tuneful moan;

The lark, the goldfinch, warbled lays of love,

And sweetly pensive coo’d the turtle dove;

While honey bees, forever on the wing,

Humm’d round the flowers, or sipt the silver spring;

The rich, ripe season, gratified the sense

With summer’s sweets, and autumn’s redolence.

Apples and pears lay strew’d in heaps around,

And the plum’s loaded branches kiss’d the ground. Fawkes.

f——To our mid journey are we come,

I see the top of old Bianor’s tomb;

Here, Mseris, where the swains thick branches prune And strew their leaves, our voices let us tune.

Warton.

Not only in professed descriptions of the gcenery, but in the frequent allusions to natural objects, which occur, of course, in pastorals, the poet must, above all things, study variety. He must diversify his face of nature, by presenting to us new images; or otherwise, he will soon become insipid with those known topics of description, which were original, it is true, in the first poets, who copied them from nature, but which are now worn thread-bare by incessant imitation. It is also incumbent on him, to suit the scenery to the subject of the pastoral; and, according as it is of a gay or a melancholy kind, to exhibit nature under such forms as may correspond with the emotions or sentiments which he describes. Thus Virgil, in his second Eclogue, which contains the lamentation of a despairing lover, gives, with propriety, a gloomy appearance to the scene:

Tantum inter densas, umbrosa cacumina, fagos

Assidue veniebat; ibi haec incondita solus

Montibus et silvis studio jactabat inani.*

With regard to the characters, or persons, which are proper to be introduced into pastorals, it is not enough that they be -persons residing in the country. The adventures, or the discourses of courtiers, or citizens, in the country, are not what we look for in such writings; we expect to be entertained by shepherds, or persons wholly engaged in rural occupations; whose innocence and freedom from the cares of the world may, in our imagination, form an agreeable contrast with the manners and characters of those who are engaged in the bustle of life.

One of the principal difficulties which here occurs has been already hinted; that of keeping the exact medium between too much rusticity on the one hand, and too much refinement on the other. The shepherd, assuredly, must be plain and unaffected in his manner of thinking, on all subjects. An amiable simplicity must be the ground-work of his character. At the same time, there is no necessity for his being dull and insipid. He may have good sense and reflection; he may have sprightliness and vivacity; he may have very tender and delicate feelings; since these are, more or less, the portion of men in all ranks of life; and since, undoubtedly, there was much genius in the world, before there were learning or arts to refine it. But then he must not subtilize; he must not deal in general reflections and abstract reasoning; and still less in the points and conceits of an affected gallantry, which surely belong not to his character and situation. Some of these conceits are the chief blemishes of the Italian pastorals, which are otherwise beautiful. When Aminta, in Tasso, is disentangling his mistress’s hair from the tree to which a savage had bound it, he is represented as saying: ‘Cruel tree! how couldst thou injure that lovely hair which did thee so much honour? Thy rugged trunk was not worthy of such lovely

9 Mid shades of thickest beech he pin’d alone,

To the wild woods and mountains made his moan; Still day by day, in incoherent strains,

’Twas all he could, despairing told his pains.

knots. What advantage have the servants of love, if those precious chains are common to them, and to the trees V* Such strained sentiments as these, ill befit the woods. Rural personages are supposed to speak the language of plain sense, and natural feelings. When they describe, or relate, they do it with simplicity, and naturally allude to rural circumstances; as in those beautiful lines of one of Virgil’s Eclogues:

Sepibus in nostris parvam te roscida mala (Dux ego vester eram) vidi cum matre legentem:

Alter ab undecimo turn me jam ceperat annus,

Jam fragiles poteram a terra contingere ramos.

Ut vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abstulit error! VIII. 37.

In another passage, he makes a shepherdess throw an apple at her lover:

Turn fugit ad salices, et se cupit ante videri. III. 65.

This is naive, as the French express it, and perfectly suited to pastoral manners. Mr. Pope wanted to imitate this passage, and, as he thought, to improve upon it. He does it thus:

The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green,

She runs; but hopes she does not run unseen;

While a kind glance at her pursuer flies,

How much at variance are her feet and eyes!

This falls far short of Virgil; the natural and pleasing simplicity of the description is destroyed, by the quaint and affected turn in the last line: “How much at variance are her feet and eyes.”

Supposing the poet to have formed correct ideas concerning his pastoral characters and personages: the next inquiry is, about what is he to employ them? and what are to be the subjects of his Eclogues? For it is not enough, that he gives us shepherds discoursing together. Every good poem, of every kind, ought to have a subject which should, in some way, interest us. Now, here I apprehend, lies the chief difficulty of pastoral writing. The active scenes of country life either are, or to most describers appear to be, too barren of incidents. The state of a shepherd, or a person occupied in rural employments only, is exposed to few of those

* Gia di nodi si bei non era degno Così rovido tronco; or cbe vantaggio Hanno i servi d’ amor, se lor commune E’con le piante il pretioso laccio?

Pianta crudel! potesti quel bel crine

Offender, tu, ch’a te seo tanto onore? Atto III. Sc. t

t Once with your mother to our field you came For dewy apples; thence I date my flame;

The choicest fruit I pointed to your view,

Tho’ young, my raptur’d soul was fix’d on you;

The boughs I just could reach with little arms;

But then, even then, could feel thy powerful charms.

0, how I gaz’d, in pleasing transport tost:

How glow’d my heart, in sweet delusion lost! Warton.

$ My Phyllis me with pelted apples plies;

Then, tripping to the wood, the wanton hides,

And wishes to be seen, before she flies. Dryden

accidents and revolutions which render his situation interesting, or produce curiosity or surprise. The tenour of his life is uniform. His ambition is conceived to be without policy, and his love without intrigue. Hence it is, that, of all poems, the most meagre commonly in the subject, and the least diversified in the strain, is the pastoral.

From the first lines, we can, generally, guess at all that is to follow. It is either a shepherd who sits down solitary by a brook, to lament the absence or cruelty of his mistress, and to tell us how the trees wither, and the flowers droop, now that she is gone; or we have two shepherds who challenge one another to sing, rehearsing alternate verses, which have little either of meaning or subject, till the judge rewards one with a studded crook, and another with a beechen bowl. To the frequent repetition of common-place topics of this sort, which have been thrummed over by all Eclogue writers since the days of Theocritus and Virgil, is owing much of that insipidity which prevails in pastoral compositions.

I much question, however, whether this insipidity be not owing to the fault of the poets, and to their barren and slavish imitation of the ancient pastoral topics, rather than to the confined nature of the subject. For why may not pastoral poetry take a wider range? Human nature, and human passions, are much the same in every rank of life; and wherever these passions operate on objects that are within the rural sphere, there may be a proper subject for pastoral. One would indeed choose to remove from this sort of composition the operations of violent and direful passions, and to present such only as are consistent with innocence, simplicity, and virtue. But under this limitation, there will still be abundant scope for a careful observer of nature to exert his genius. The various adventures which give occasion to those engaged in country life to display their disposition and temper; the scenes of domestic felicity or disquiet; the attachment of friends and brothers; the rivalship and competition of lovers; the unexpected success or misfortunes of families, might give occasion to many a pleasing and tender incident; and were more of the narrative and sentimental intermixed with the descriptive in this kind of poetry, it would become much more interesting than it now generally is, to the bulk of readers.*

The two great fathers of pastoral poetry are, Theocritus and Virgil. Theocritus was a Sicilian; and as he has laid the scene of his Eclogues in his own country, Sicily became ever afterwards a sort of consecrated ground for pastoral poetry. His Idyllia, as he has entitled them, are not all of equal merit; nor indeed are they all pastorals; but some of them, poems of a quite different nature. In such, however, as are properly pastorals, there are many and great

* The above observations on the barrenness of the common Eclogues were written before any translation from the German had made us acquainted in this country with Gesner’s Idyls, in which the ideas that had occurred to me for the improvement of pastoral poetry, are fully realized.

beauties. He is distinguished for the simplicity of his sentiments; for the great sweetness and harmony of his numbers, and for the richness of his scenery and description. He is the original, of which Virgil is the imitator. For most of Virgil’s highest beauties in his Eclogues are copied from Theocritus; in many places he has done nothing more than translate him. He must be allowed, however, to have imitated him with great judgment, and in some respects to have improved upon him. For Theocritus, it cannot be denied, descends sometimes into ideas that are gross and mean, and makes his shepherds abusive and immodest; whereas Virgil is free from offensive rusticity, and at the same time preserves the character of pastoral simplicity. The same distinction obtains between Theocritus and Virgil, as between many other of the Greek and Roman writers. The Greek led the way followed nature more closely, and showed more original genius. The Roman discovered more of the polish and correctness of art. We have a few remains of two other Greek poets in the pastoral style, Moschus and Bion, which have very considerable merit; and if they want the simplicity of Theocritus, excel him in tenderness and delicacy.

The modern writers of pastorals have, generally, contented themselves with copying, or imitating, the descriptions and sentiments of the ancient poets. Sannazarius, indeed, a famous Latin poet, in the age of Leo X. attempted a bold innovation. He composed Piscatory Eclogues, changing the scene from woods to the sea, and from the life of shepherds to that of fishermen. But the innovation was so unhappy, that he has gained no followers. For the life of fishermen is, obviously, much more hard and toilsome than that of shepherds, and presents to the fancy much less agreeable images. Flocks, and trees, and flowers, are objects of greater beauty, and more generally relished by men, than fishes and marine productions. Of all the moderns, M. Gesner, a poet of Switzerland, has been the most successful in his pastoral compositions. He has introduced into his Idyls (as he entitles them) many new ideas. His rural scenery is often striking, and his descriptions are lively. He presents pastoral life to us, with all the embellishments of which it is susceptible; but without any excess of refinement. What forms the chief merit of this poet is, that he writes to the heart; and has enriched the subject of his Idyls with incidents which give rise to much tender sentiment. Scenes of domestic felicity are beautifully painted. The mutual affection of husbands and wives, of parents and children, of brothers and sisters, as well as of lovers, are displayed in a pleasing and touching manner. From not understanding the language in which M. Gesner writes, I can be no judge of the poetry of his style: but, in the subject and conduct of his pastorals, he appears to me to have outdone all the moderns.

Neither Mr. Pope’s nor Mr. Philips’s pastorals, do any great honour to the English poetry. Mr. Pope’s were composed in his youth; which may be an apology for other faults, but cannot well excuse the barrenness that appears in them. They are written in remarkably smooth, and flowing numbers: and this is their chief merit; for there is scarcely any thought in them which can be called his own; scarcely any description, or any image of nature, which has the marks of being original, or copied from nature herself; but a repetition of the common images that are to be found in Virgil, and in all poets who write of rural themes. Philips attempted to be more simple and natural than Pope; but he wanted genius to support his attempt, or to write agreeably. He, too, runs on the common and beaten topics; and endeavouring to be simple, he becomes flat and insipid. There was no small competition between these two authors, at the time when their pastorals were published. In some papers of the Guardian, great partiality was shown to Philips and high praise bestowed upon him. Mr. Pope, resenting this preference, under a feigned name, procured a paper to be inserted in the Guardian, wherein he seemingly carries on the plan of extolling Philips; but in reality satirises him most severely with ironical praises; and in an artful covered manner, gives the palm to himself.* About the same time, Mr. Gay published his Shepherd’s Week, in six pastorals, which are designed to ridicule that sort of simplicity which Philips and his partisans extolled, and are, indeed, an ingenious burlesque of pastoral writing, when it rises no higher than the manners of modern clowns and rustics. Mr. Shenstone’s pastoral ballad, in four parts, may justly be reckoned, I think, one of the most elegant poems of this kind which we have in English.

I have not yet mentioned one form in which pastoral writing has appeared in latter ages, that is, when extended into a play, or regular drama, where plot, characters, and passions, are joined with the simplicity and innocence of rural manners. This is the chief improvement which the moderns have made on this species of composition; and of this nature, we have two Italian pieces which are much celebrated, Guarini’s Pastor Fido, and Tasso’s Aminta. Both of these possess great beauties and are entitled to the reputation they have gained. To the latter, the preference seems due, as being less intricate in the plot and conduct, and less strained and affected in the sentiments; and though not wholly free from Italian refinement, (of which I already gave one instance, the worst indeed, that occurs in all the poem,) it is, on the whole, a performance of high merit. The strain of the poetry is gentle and pleasing; and the Italian language contributes to add much of that softness, which is peculiarly suited to pastoral.!

* See Guardian, No. 40.

t It may be proper to take notice here, that the charge against Tasso for his points and conceits, has sometimes been carried too far. Mr. Addison, for instance, in a paper of the Guardian, censuring his Aminta, gives this example ‘That Sylvia enters adorned with a garland of flowers, and after viewing herself in a fountain, breaks out in a speech to the flowers on her head, and tells them that she did not wear them to adorn herself, but to make them ashamed.’ ‘Whoever can hear this,’ he adds, ‘may be assured, that he has no taste for pastoral.’ Guard. No. 38. But Tasso’s Sylvia, in truth, makes no such ridiculous figure, and we are obliged to suspect that Mr. Addison had not read the Aminta. Daphne, a, companion of Sylvia, appears in conversation with Thyrsis, the confidant of Amin-ta, Sylvia’s lover, and in order to show him that Sylvia was not so simple, or in

I must not omit the mention of another pastoral drama, which will bear being brought into comparison with any composition o! this kind, in any language; that is, Allan Ramsay’s Gentle Shepherd. It is a great disadvantage to this beautiful poem, that it is written in the old rustic dialect of Scotland, which, in a short time, will probably be entirely obsolete, and not intelligible; and it is a farther disadvantage, that it is so entirely formed on the rural manners of Scotland, that none but a native of that country can thoroughly under- sensible to her own charms, as she affected to be, gives him this instance; that she had caught her one day adjusting her dress by a fountain, and applying now one flower and now another to her neck, and after comparing their colours with her own, she broke into a smile, as if she had seemed to say, I will wear you not for my ornaments, but to show how much you yield to me; and when caught thus admiring herself, she threw away her flowers, and blushed for shame. This description of the vanity of a rural coquette, is no more than what is natural, and very different from what the author of the Guardian represents it.

This censure on Tasso was not originally Mr. Addison’s. Bouhours in his Manière de bien penser dans les ouvrages d’esprit, appears to have been the first who gave this misrepresentation of Sylvia’s speech, and founded a criticism on it. Fontenelle, in his discourse on Pastoral Poetry, followed him in this criticism. Mr. Addison, or whoever was the author of that paper in the Guardian, copied from them both. Mr. Warton, in the Prefatory Discourse to his Translation of Virgil’s Eclogues, repeats the observation. Sylvia’s speech to the flowers, with which she was adorned, is always quoted as the flagrant instance of the false taste of the Italian poets. Whereas, Tasso gives us no such speech of Sylvia’s, but only informs us of what her companion supposed her to be thinking, or saying to herself when she was privately admiring her own beauty. After charging so many eminent critics, for having fallen into this strange inaccuracy, from copying one another, without looking into the author whom they censure, it is necessary for me to insert the passage which has occasioned this remark. Daphne speaks thus to Thyrsis:

Hora per dirti il ver, non mi resolve Se Silvia è semplicetta, come pare Ne le parole, a gli atti. Pur ier vidi un segno Che me ne mette in dubbio. lo la trovas La presso la cittade in quei gran prati,

Ove fra stagni grace un isoletta,

Sovra essa un lago limpido e tranquillo,

Tutta pendente in atto, che parea Vagheggiar fe medesma, e’nsieme insieme Chieder consiglio l’acque, in qual maniera Dispor dovesse in su la fronte i crini,

E sovra i crini il velo, e sovral velo 1 fior, che tenea in grembo; e spesso spesso Hor prendeva un ligustro, hor una rosa,

E i’accostava al bel candido collo,

A le guancie vermiglie, e de colori Fea paragone; e poi, ficome beta De la vittoria, lampeggiava un riso Che parea che dicesse: io pur vi vinco;

Ni porto voi per ornamento mio,

Ma porto voi sol per vergogna vostra,

Perche si veggia quanto mi cedete.

Ma mentre ella s’ornava, e vagheggiara Rivolsi gli occhi a caso, e si fu accorta,

Ch’io di la m’era accorta, e vergognando,

Rizzosi teste, e i fior lasciò cadere; in tanto io piu ridea del suo rossore,

Ella piu s’arrossia del riso mio.

Aminta. Atto II. Sc. 2.

stand or relish it. But, though subject to these local disadvantages, which confine its reputation within narrow limits, it is full of so much natural description, and tender sentiment, as would do honour to any poet. The characters are well drawn, the incidents affecting, the scenery and manners lively and just. It affords a strong proof, both of the power which nature and simplicity possess, to reach the heart in every sort of writing; and of the variety of pleasing characters and subjects, with which pastoral poetry, when properly managed, is capable of being enlivened.

I proceed next, to treat of lyric poetry, or the ode; a species of poetical composition which possesses much dignity, and in which many writers have distinguished themselves, in every age. Its peculiar character is, that it is intended to be sung, or accompanied with music. Its designation implies this. Ode is, in Greek, the same with song or hymn; and lyric poetry imports, that the verses are accompanied with a lyre, or musical instrument. This distinction was not, at first, peculiar to anyone species of poetry. For, as I observed in the last lecture, music and poetry were coeval, and were, originally, always joined together. But after their separation took place, after bards had begun to make verse compositions, which were to be recited or read, not to be sung, such poems as were designed to be still joined with music or song, were, by way of distinction, called odes.

In the ode, therefore, poetry retains its first and most ancient form; that form, under which the original bards poured forth their enthusiastic strains, praised their gods and their heroes, celebrated their victories, and lamented their misfortunes. It is from this circumstance, of the ode’s being supposed to retain its original union with music, that we are to deduce the proper idea, and the peculiar qualities of this kind of poetry. It is not distinguished from other kinds, by the subjects on which it is employed; for these may be extremely various. I know no distinction of subject that belongs to it, except that other poems are often employed in the recital of actions, whereas sentiments of one kind or other, form, almost always, the subject of the ode. But it is chiefly the spirit, the manner of its execution that marks and characterizes it. Music and song naturally add to the warmth of poetry. They tend to transport, in a higher degree, both the person who sings, and the persons who hear. They justify, therefore, a bolder and more passionate strain, than can be supported in simple recitation. On this is formed the peculiar character of the ode. Hence, the enthusiasm that belongs to it, and the liberties it is allowed to take, beyond any other species of poetry. Hence, that neglect of regularity, those digressions, and that disorder which it is supposed to admit; and which, indeed, most lyric poets have not failed sufficiently to exemplify in their practice.

The effects of music upon the mind are chiefly two; to raise it above its ordinary state, and fill it with high enthusiastic emotions; or to sooth, and melt it into the gentle pleasurable feelings. Hence, the ode may either aspire to the former character of the sublime and noble, or it may descend to the latter of the pleasant and the gay; and between these, there is, also, a middle region of the mild and temperate emotions, which the ode may often occupy to advantage.

All odes may be comprised under four denominations. First, sacred odes; hymns addressed to God, or composed on religious subjects. Of this nature are the Psalms of David, which exhibit to us this species of lyric poetry, in its highest degree of perfection. Secondly, heroic odes, which are employed in the praise of heroes, and in the celebration of martial exploits and great actions. Of this kind are all Pindar’s odes, and some few of Horace’s. These two kinds ought to have sublimity and elevation, for their reigning character.

Thirdly, moral and philosophical odes, where the sentiments are chiefly inspired by virtue, friendship, and humanity. Of this kind, are many of Horace’s odes, and several of our best modern lyric productions; and here the ode possesses that middle region, which, as I observed, it sometimes occupies. Fourthly, festive and amorous odes, calculated merely for pleasure and amusement. Of this nature are all Anacreon’s, some of Horace’s; and a great number of songs and modern productions, that claim to be of the lyric species. The reigning character of these, ought to be elegance, smoothness, and gayety.

One of the chief difficulties in composing odes, arises from that enthusiasm which is understood to be a characteristic of lyric poetry. A professed ode, even of the moral kind, but more especially if it attempt the sublime, is expected to be enlivened and animated in an uncommon degree. Full of this idea, the poet, when he begins to write an ode, if he has any real warmth of genius, is apt to deliver himself up to it, without control or restraint; if he has it not, he strains after it, and thinks himself bound to assume the appearance of being all fervour, and all flame. In either case, he is in great hazard of becoming extravagant. The licentiousness of writing without order, method, or connexion, has infected the ode more than any other species of poetry. Hence, in the class of heroic odes, we find so few that one can read with pleasure. The poet is out of sight in a moment. He gets up into the clouds; becomes so abrupt in his transitions; so eccentric and irregular in his motions, and of course so obscure, that we essay in vain to follow him, or to partake of his raptures. . I do not require, that an ode should be as regular in the structure of its parts, as a didactic or an epic poem. But still in every composition, there ought to be a subject; there ought to be parts which make up a whole; there should be a connexion of those parts with one another. The transitions from thought to thought may be light and delicate, such as are prompted by a lively fancy; but still they should be such as preserve the connexion of ideas, and show the author to be one who thinks, and not one who raves. Whatever authority may be pleaded for the incoherence and disorder of lyric poetry, nothing can be more certain, than that any composition which is so regular in its method, as to become obscure to the bulk of readers, is so much worse upon that account.*

The extravagant liberty which several of the modern lyric writers assume to themselves in the versification, increases the disorder of this species of poetry. They prolong their periods to such a degree, they wander through so many different measures and employ such a variety of long and short lines, corresponding in rhyme at so great a distance from each other, that all sense of melody is utterly lost. Whereas, lyric composition ought, beyond every other species of poetry, to pay attention to melody and beauty of sound; and the versification of those odes may be justly accounted the best, which renders the harmony of the measure most sensible to every common ear.

Pindar, the great father of lyric poetry, has been the occasion of leading his imitators into some of the defects I have now mentioned. His genius was sublime; his expressions are beautiful and happy; his descriptions picturesque. But finding it a very barren subject to sing the praises of those who had gained the prize in the public games, he is perpetually digressive, and fills up his poems with fables of the gods and heroes, that have little connexion either with his subject, or with one another. The ancients admired him greatly; but as many of the histories of particular families and cities, to which he alludes, are now unknown to us, he is so obscure, partly from his subjects, and partly from his rapid, abrupt manner of treating them, that, notwithstanding the beauty of his expression, our pleasure in reading him is much diminished. One would imagine, that many of his modern imitators thought the best way to catch his spirit, was to imitate his disorder and obscurity. In several of the choruses of Euripides and Sophocles, we have the same kind of lyric poetry as in Pindar, carried on with more clearness and connexion, and at the same time with much sublimity.

Of all the writers of odes, ancient or modern, there is none, that in point of correctness, harmony, and happy expression, can vie with Horace. He has descended from the Pindaric rapture to

* “ La plupart de ceux qui parlent de l’enthousiasme de l’ode, en parlent comme s’ils etoient eux-mêmes dans le trouble qu’ils veulent définir. Ce ne sont que grands mots de fureur divine, de transports de l’âme, de mouvemens, de lumières, qui, mis bout bout dans des phrases pompeuses, ne produisent pourtant aucune idee distincte. Si on les en croit, l’essence de l’enthousiasme est de ne pouvoir être compris que par les esprits du premiere ordre, à la tête desquels ils se supposent, et dont ils excluent tous ceux qui osent ne les pas entendre.—Le beau desordre de l’ode est un eflet de l’art; mais il faut prendre garde de donner trop d’étendue à ce terme. On autoriseroit par-là tous les écarts imaginables. Un poète n’auroit plus qu’à exprimer avec force toutes les pensées qui lui viendroient successivement; il se tiendroit dispense d’en examiner le rapport, et de se faire un plan, dont toutes les parties se pretassent mutuellement des beautés. Il n’y auroit ni commencement, ni milieu, ni fin, dans son ouvrage; et cependant 1’auteur se croiroit d’autant plus sublime, qu’ il seroit moins raisonnable. Mais qui produiroit une pareille composition dans l’esprit du lecteur? Elle ne laisseroit qu’un étourdissement, causé par la magnificence et l’harmonie des paroles, sans y faire naitre que des idees confuses, qui chasseroient l’une ou l’autre, au lieu de concourir ensemble à fixer et à éclairer l’esprit.” CEuvres de M De la Motte, tom. I. Dis cours sur l’Ode.

a more moderate degree, of elevation; and joins connected thought, and good sense, with the highest beauties of poetry. He does not often aspire beyond that middle region, which I mentioned as belonging to the ode; and those odes, In which he attempts the sublime, are perhaps not always his best.* The peculiar character, in which he excels, is grace and elegance; and in this style of composition, no poet has ever attained to a greater perfection than Horace. No poet supports a moral sentiment with more dignity, touches a gay one more happily, or possesses the art of trifling more agreeably, when he chooses to trifle. His language is so fortunate, that with a single word or epithet, he often conveys a whole description to the fancy. Hence he ever has been, and ever will continue to be, a favourite author with all persons of taste.

Among the Latin poets of later ages, there have been many imitators of Horace. One of the most distinguished is Casimir, a Polish poet of the last century, who wrote four books of odes. In graceful ease of expression, he is far inferior to the Roman. He oftener affects the sublime; and in the attempt, like other lyric writers, frequently becomes harsh and unnatural. But, on several occasions, he discovers a considerable degree of original genius, and poetical fire. Buchanan, in some of his lyric compositions, is very elegant and classical.

Among the French, the odes of Jean Baptiste Rousseau, have been much, and justly celebrated. They possess great beauty, both of sentiment and expression. They are animated, without being rhapsodical; and are not inferior to any poetical productions in the French language.

In our own language, we have several lyric compositions of considerable merit. Dryden’s ode on St. Cecilia, is well known. Mr. Gray is distinguished in some of his odes, both for tenderness and sublimity; and in Dodsley’s Miscellanies, several very beautiful lyric poems are to be found. As to professed Pindaric odes, they are, with a few exceptions, so incoherent, as seldom to be intelligible. Cowley, at all times harsh, is doubly so in his Pindaric compositions. In his Anacreontic odes, he is much happier. They are smooth and elegant; and indeed the most agreeable and the most perfect in their kind, of all Mr. Cowley’s Poems.

* There is no ode whatever of Horace’s, without great beauties. But though I may be singular in my opinion, I cannot help thinking that in some of those odes which have been much admired for sublimity, (such as Ode iv. lib. 4. * Qualem mi nistrum fulminis alitem,’ &c.) there appears somewhat of a strained and forced effort to be lofty. The genius of this amiable poet shows itself, according to my judgment, to greater advantage, in themes of a more temperate kind.