the charms of novelty, and leads us into fictions which are somewhat stale and thread-bare. Boileau, the greatest critic of the French nation, was of a very different opinion:

La fable offre a l'esprit mille agréments divers

Là tous les noms heureux semblent nez pour les vers:
Ulysse, Agamemnon, Oreste, Idomenée,

Helene, Menelas, Paris, Hector, Enee.

"It is certain that there is in that poetic ground a kind of enchantment which allures every person of a tender and lively imagination; nor is this impression diminished, but rather much increased, by our early introduction to the knowledge of it in our perusal of the Greek and Latin classics.

"The same great French critic makes the apology of our poet in his use of the ancient mythology:

Ainsi dans cet amas de nobles fictions,

Le poet s'egeye en mille inventions,

Orne, eleve, embellit, aggrandit toutes choses,

Et trouve sous sa main des fleurs toujours ecloses.

"It would seem, indeed, that if the machinery of the heathen gods be not admitted, epic poetry, at least all the marvellous part of it, must be entirely abandoned. The Christian religion, for many reasons, is unfit for the fabulous ornaments of poetry: the introduction of allegory, after the manner of Voltaire, is liable to many objections: and though a mere historical epic poem, like Leonidas, may have its beauties, it will always be inferior to the force and pathetic of tragedy, and must resign to that species of poetry the precedency which the former composition has always challenged among the productions of human genius. But with regard to these particulars, the author has himself made a sufficient apology in the judicious and spirited preface which accompanies his poem.

"But though our poet has in general followed so successfully the footsteps of Homer, he has, in particular passages, chosen other ancient poets for his model. His seventh book contains an episode, very artfully inserted, concerning the death of Hercules: where he has plainly had Sophocles in his view, and has ventured to engage in a rivalship with that great master of the tragic scene. If the sublimity of our poet's imagination, and the energy of his style, appear any where conspicu ous, it is in this episode, which we shall not scruple to compare with any poetry in the English language. Nothing can be more pathetic than the complaint of Her. cules, when the poison of the centaur's robe begins first to prey upon him:

Sov'reign of heav'n and earth! whose boundless sway

The fates of men and mortal things obey,

If e'er delighted from the courts above,
In human form you sought A'cmene's love;
If fame's unchanging voice to all the earth,
With truth, proclaims you author of my birth;
Whence, from a course of spotless glory run,
Successful toils and wreaths of triumph won,
Am I thus wretched? better that before

Some monster fierce had drank my streaming gore;

Or crush'd by Cacus, foe to gods and men,
My batter'd brains had strew'd his rocky den:
Than, from my glorious toils and triumphs past,
To fall subdu'd by female arts, at last.

O cool my boiling blood, ye winds, that blow
From mountains loaded with eternal snow,
And crack the icy cliffs: in vain! in vain!
Your rigour cannot quench my raging pain!
For round this heart the furies wave their brands,
And wring my entrails with their burning hands,
Now bending from the skies, O wife of Jove!
Enjoy the vengeance of thy injur'd love :
For fate, by me, the Thund'rer's guilt atones;
And, punish'd in her son, Alcmene groans:
The object of your hate shall soon expire;
Fix'd on my shoulders preys a net of fire;
Whom nor the toils nor dangers could subdue,
By false Eurystheus dictated from you;
Nor tyrants lawless, nor the monstrous brood
Which haunts the desert or infests the flood,
Nor Greece, nor all the barb'rous climes that lie
Where Phoebus ever points his golden eye,
A woman hath o'erthrown!-ye gods! I yield
To female arts, unconquer'd in the field.
My arms-alas! are these the same that bow'd
Anteus, and his giant force subdu'd?
That dragg'd Nemea's monster from his den ?
And slew the dragon in his native fen?
Alas! alas! their mighty muscles fail,

While pains infernal ev'ry nerve assail :
Alas, alas! I feel in streams of woe
These eyes dissolve, before untaught to flow.
Awake my virtue, oft in dangers try'd,
Patient in toils, in deaths unterrify'd,
Rouse to my aid; nor let my labours past,
With fame atchiev'd, be blotted by the last :
Firm and unmov'd, the present shock endure;
Once triumph, and for ever rest secure.

"Our poet, though his genius be in many respects very original, has not disdain. ed to imitate even modern poets. He has added to his heroic poem a dream, in the manner of Spenser, where the poct supposes himself to be introduced to Homer, who censures his poem in some particulars, and excuses it in others. This poem is indeed a species of apology for the Epigoniad, wrote in a very lively and elegant manner; it may be compared to a well-polished gem, of the purest water, and cut into the most beautiful form. Those who would judge of our author's talents for poetry, without perusing his larger work, may satisfy their curiosity, by running over this short poem. They will see the same force of imagination and harmony of numbers, which distinguish his longer performance: and may thence, with small application, receive a favourable impression of our author's genius.

"D. H."

That Wilkie may not be deprived of any favourable opinion, nor the admission of his works into this collection stand in need of any further apology, I shall sub, join the opinion of a very elegant and candid critic of the present day." The Epigoniad of Wilkie is the bold attempt of an energetic mind to try its powers in the most arduous path of poetry, the epic; without that correctness of judgment, and previous discipline in the practice of harmonious numbers, which can alone ensure success in an age of polish and refinement. It has accordingly been measured by that standard of criticism, which the most unqualified judges can easily apply, a comparison with the most perfect productions of its kind: and its pal pable defects have involved in an indiscriminate condemnation its less obvious, but real merits 2."

Lord Woodhouslee's Life of Lord Kaimes, vol. i. p. 178. 4to. 1807.-C.

THE

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

TO HIS

EPIGONIAD.

As there is no class of writers more freely censured than poets, and that by judges of all sorts, competent and incompetent; I shall attempt to answer some objections that may be made to the following performance, by persons not sufficiently acquainted with epic poetry, and the rules upon which it ought to be formed.

The beauties of the piece, if it has any, shall be left to be discovered by the reader for himself. This is his undoubted privilege; and I have no intention to break in upon it: neither would it be of any advantage to do so; for poetical beauties, if they are real, will make themselves observed, and have their full effect without a comment.

Some will object to the choice of the subject, That it is taken from the history of an age and nation, the particular manners of which are not now well known, and therefore incapable of being justly represented by any modern author. This objection will appear to be of little consequence, when we consider that the fact upon which it proceeds is so far from being strictly true, that there are none who have any tolerable share of classical learning, that are not better acquainted with the manners and customs of the heroic ages, than with those of their own country, at the distance of a few centuries. Neither is this knowledge of ancient manners confined to the learned; the vulgar themselves, from the books of Moses, and other accounts of the first periods of the Jewish state, are sufficiently instructed in the customs of the earliest times, to be able to relish any work where these are justly represented. With what favour, for instance, has Mr. Pope's translation of the Iliad been received by persons of all conditions? and how much is it commonly preferred to the Fairy Queen, a poem formed upon manners of a much more modern cast. But supposing the fact upon which the objection proceeds to be true, and that the customs and manners peculiar to the times from which the subject of the poem is taken are not now well understood, I do not apprehend that, even with this concession, the objection amounts to any thing considerable; for manners are to be distinguished into two kinds, universal and particular. Universal manners, are those which arise from the original frame and constitution of the human nature, and which consequently are the same in all nations and periods of the world. Farticular manners, on the other hand, consist of such customs and modes of behaviour as proceed from the influence of partial causes, and that shift and vary as those causes do upon which they depend. To make myself understood by an example: it is agreeable to common or universal manners, to be angry and resent an injury; but particular manners, in ordinary cases, determine the methods of revenge. For great offences, an Italian poisons bis enemy; a Spaniard stabs him over the shoulder; and a Frenchman seeks satisfaction in a duel. From this example, it will be easy to see that particu lar manners ought to appear but very little, either in epic poetry, tragedy, or any other of the higher kinds of poetical composition; for they are vulgar and depend upon custom: but great passions and high characters reject ordinary forms; and therefore must, upon every occasion, break through all the common modes both of speech and behaviour. Though ancient manners, therefore, were not so precisely known as they are, I should imagine, that a story taken from the accounts which we have of the heroic ages, might very well serve for the subject of an epic poem, and have all the advantages necessary in respect of that species of composition..