Strokes of this Nature into a very fine Poem, I mean The Art of Criticism, which was publish'd some Months fince, and is a Mafter-piece in its kind. The Obfervations follow one another like thofe in Horace's Art of Poetry, without that methodical Regularity which would have been requifite in a Profe Author. They are fome of them uncommon, but fuch as the Reader muft affent to, when he fees them explained with that Elegance and Perfpicuity in which they are delivered. As for those which are the most known, and the moft received, they are placed in fo beautiful a Light, and illustrated with fuch apt Allufions, that they have in them all the Graces of Novelty, and make the Reader, who was before acquainted with them, ftill more convinced of their Truth and Solidity. And here give me Leave to mention what Monfieur Boileau has fo very well enlarged upon in the Preface to his Works, that Wit and fine Writing do not confist so much in advancing Things that are new, as in giving Things that are known an agreeable Turn. It is impoffible for us, who live in the latter Ages of the World, to make Obfervations in Criticism, Morality, or in any Art or Science, which have not been touched upon by others. We have little elfe left us, but to reprefent the common Senfe of Mankind in more strong, more beautiful, or more uncommon Lights. If a Reader examines Horace's Art of Poetry, he will find but very few Precepts in it, which he may not meet with in Ariftotle, and which were not commonly known by all the Poets of the Auguftan Age. His Way of Expreffing and applying them, not his Invention of them, is what we are chiefly to admire. FOR this Reason I think there is nothing in the World fo tiresome as the Works of thofe Criticks who write in a pofitive Dogmatick Way, without either Language, Genius, or Imagination. If the Reader would fee how the beft of the Latin Criticks writ, he may find their Manner very beautifully described in the Characters of Horace, Petronius, Quintilian, and Longinus, as they are drawn in the Effay of which I am now fpeaking. SINCE I have mentioned Longinus, who in his Reflexions has given us the fame kind of Sublime, which he obferves in the feveral paffages that occafioned them ; I I cannot but take Notice, that our English Author has after the fame manner exemplified feveral of his Precepts in the very Precepts themselves. I fhall produce two or three Inftances of this Kind. Speaking of the infipid Smoothness which fome Readers are fo much in Love with, he has the following Verses. Thefe Equal Syllables alone require, THE gaping of the Vowels in the fecond Line, the Expletive do in the third, and the ten Monofyllables in the fourth, give fuch a Beauty to this Paffage, as would have been very much admired in an Ancient Poet. The Reader may obferve the following Lines in the fame View. A needlefs Alexandrine ends the Song, That like a wounded Snake, drags its flow Length along! And afterwards, 'Tis not enough no Harshness gives Offence, Flies o'er th' unbending Corn, and skims along the Main. THE beautiful Diftich upon Ajax in the foregoing Lines, puts me in mind of a Defcription in Homer's Odyffey, which none of the Criticks have taken notice of. It is where Sisyphus is reprefented lifting his Stone up the Hill, which is no fooner carried to the Top of it, but it immediately tumbles to the Bottom. This double Motion of the Stone is admirably described in the Numbers of these Verfes. As in the four first it is heaved up by feveral Spondees intermixed with proper Breathingplaces, and at last trundles down in a continual Line of Dactyls Καὶ Καὶ μμ Σίσυφον εἰσῶδον, κρατές ̓ ἄλγἐ ἔχοντα, Ἤτοι ὁ μὲν σκηπτόμυΘ- χερσίν τε ποσίν τει IT would be endiefs to quote Verfes out of Virgil which have this particular Kind of Beauty in the Numbers; but I may take an Occafion in a future Paper to fhew several of them which have escaped the Observation of others. I cannot conclude this Paper without taking notice that we have three Poems in our Tongue, which are of the fame Nature, and each of them a Master-piece in its Kind; the Effay on tranflated Verfe, the Effay on the Art of Poetry, and the Effay upon Criticism. C N° 254. Friday, December 21. Σεμνὸς ἔρως ἀρετῆς, ὁ ἢ κυπείδG αχΘ ὀφέλλει. HEN I confider the falfe Impreffions which are W received by the Generality of the World, I am troubled at none more than a certain Levity of Thought, which many young Women of Quality have entertained, to the Hazard of their Characters, and the certain Misfortune of their Lives. The firft of the following Letters may belt reprefent the Faults I would now point at, and the Answer to it the Temper of Mind in a contrary Character. My Dear Harriot, IF F thou art fhe, but oh how fallen, how changed, what an Apoftate! how loft to all that's gay and agreeable! To be married I find is to be buried alive; I can't conceive it more difmal to be fhut up in a Vault to converse with the Shades of my Ancestors, than to be carried down to an old Manor-Houfe in the Country, ́ and confined to the Conversation of a sober Husband and an aukward Chamber-Maid. For Variety I fuppofe you may entertain your self with Madam in her Grogram Gown, the Spouse of your Parish Vicar, who has by this Time I am fure well furnished you with Receipts ⚫ for making Salves and Poffets, diftilling Cordial Wa'ters, making Syrups, and applying Poultices. BLEST Solitude! I wish thee Joy, my Dear, of thy loved Retirement, which indeed you would perfuade me is very agreeable, and different enough from ⚫ what I have here described: But, Child, I am afraid thy Brains are a little difordered with Romances and Novels: After fix Months Marriage to hear thee talk of Love, and paint the Country Scenes fo foftly, is a little extravagant; one would think you lived the Lives of Sylvan Deities, or roved among the Walks of Paradife, like the first happy Pair. But pr'ythee leave thefe Whimfies, and come to Town in order to live and talk like ⚫ other Mortals. However, as I am extremely interested • in your Reputation, I would willingly give you a little good Advice at your firft Appearance under the Charater of a married Woman: "Tis a little Infolence in me perhaps, to advise a Matron; but I am fo afraid you'll make fo filly a Figure as a fond Wife, that I cannot help warning you not to appear in any publick Places with your Husband, and never to faunter about St. James's • Park together: If you prefume to enter the Ring at Hide• Park together, you are ruined for ever; nor muft you take the leaft Notice of one another at the Play-house or Opera, unless you would be laughed at for a very loving Couple moft happily paired in the Yoke of Wedlock. I ⚫ would recommend the Example of an Acquaintance of ours to your Imitation; fhe is the most negligent and • fashionable Wife in the World; fhe is hardly ever seen in ⚫ the fame Place with her Husband, and if they happen to meet, you would think them perfect Strangers: She never was heard to name him in his Abfence, and takes ⚫ Care he shall never be the Subject of any Difcourfe that fhe has a Share in. I hope you'll propofe this Lady as a [ Pattern, tho' I am very much afraid you'll be fo filly to I think think Portia, &c. Sabine and Roman Wives much brigh ter Examples. I wish it may never come into your Head to imitate those antiquated Creatures fo far, as to come ⚫ into Publick in the Habit as well as Air of a Roman Matron. You make already the Entertainment at Mrs. Modife's Tea-Table; the fays, fhe always thought you a ⚫ difcreet Perfon, and qualified to manage a Family with admirable Prudence: fhe dies to fee what demure and ⚫ferious Airs Wedlock has given you, but the fays fhe 'fhall never forgive your Choice of fo galant a Man as "Bellamour to transform him to a meer fober Husband; • 'twas unpardonable: You fee, my Dear, we all envy your Happiness, and no Perfon more than B Your Humble Servant, Lydia. E not in pain, good Madam, for my Appearance in Town; I fhall frequent no publick Places, or make any Vifits where the Character of a modeft Wife is ridiculous. As for your wild Rallery on Matrimony, 'tis all Hypocrify; you, and all the handfom young ⚫ Women of your Acquaintance, fhew your felves to no ⚫ other Purpose than to gain a Conqueft over fome Man of Worth, in order to bestow your Charms and Fortune on him. There's no Indecency in the Confeffion, the Defign is modeft and honourable, and all your Affectation can't difguife it. 6 6 I am married, and have no other Concern but to please the Man I Love; he's the End of every care I have; if I drefs 'tis for him, if I read a Poem or a Play, 'tis to ⚫ qualify my felf for a Conversation agreeable to hisTaste : He's almoft the end of my Devotions; half my Prayers are for his Happiness-I love to talk of him, and ne< ver hear him named but with Pleasure and Emotion. I am your Friend, and wish you Happiness, but am forry to fee by the Air of your Letter that there are a Set of Women who are got into the Common-Place Rallery ⚫ of every Thing that is fober, decent, and proper: Matrimony and the Clergy are the Topicks of People of little Wit and no Understanding. I own to you, I have ⚫ learned of the Vicar's Wife all you tax me with: She is a • difcreet |