mixture of Heathen fable with theological mysteries, that pervades and disfigures their works. Gama," observes Voltaire, "in a storm, addresses himself to Christ; but it is Venus, that comes to his assistance.' This defect the Frenchmen ascribes to a want of taste; it can be traced, I think, to a far different cause, the difficulty, if not the absolute impossibility, of communicating, to machinery strictly Christian, that impassioned tone of sentiment and feeling, which is absolutely necessary to the purposes of epic Poetry, without shocking the feelings and sentiments of those who are to read it. Voltaire has avoided this defect; and the consequence will be fully exemplified by the very different emotions, with which we peruse the Henriade and the Lusiad. The former is secured, " in complete steel," against all the shafts of hackneyed criticism; the latter is vulnerable at every point; but it never tires: and Voltaire himself has assured us, que tous les genres sont bons, hormis le genre ennuyeux. Homer had surveyed the scenes of nature and of life, with the eye of a Poet, a Painter, a Philosopher, and a Patriot. There is nothing of exaggeration, or of enthusiasm, in this praise. Whether from art or nature;* whether from the slow and cautious process of calm examination and inquiry, or from the spontaneous and instinctive operation of genius and feeling, he seems to have known every thing. There is in him a pervasive energy of soul, that appears like intelligence incarnate. He is always superior to his subject; and, while the reader is transported beyond himself, the POET, comparatively, maintains a dignified composure. His invention is never upon the stretch; his raptures are never conjured up; "for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as may say) whirlwind of his passion, his consummate judgment always acquires and begets a temperance, that gives it smoothness." I The harmony, the melody, * Ητοι δια τέχνην, Η δια φυςιν. the majesty of his numbers, seem equally unstudied, the voluble and voluntary effusion of an imagination strongly inflamed with its visions, and expressing them in language of corresponding force and efficacy, not the cold, and mechannical effects of metrical composition; the instinctive work of selftaught nature, and not the result of art struggling at When he describes visible objects, he imitation. *Sed mihi ad poetices indolem propius esse videtur statuere, insam orationis naturam ita esse comparatam, ut multarum rerum sonos exprimat; inflammatum autem phantasmatum specie objecta animum, cùm rerum species sibi obversantes ut oratione vividè exprimat laboret, necessariò in ista vocabula incidere, vel orationis proprietate ducente. Ita graves et celeres, lenes ac duros sonos, vel id non agens et curans, ad rerum naturam accommodabit et Orator quisque bonus, et multò magis Poeta. + φύσεως αυτοματίζουσης εργα, ου τεχνης μιμησαςθαι τα γινόμενα πειρωμένης. † Ὁρωμενοις μαλλον ή ακουομενοις εοικε τα Όμηρου ποιήματα. is seen, rather than heard; if he addresses himself to the ear, he has alternately the voice of Jupiter, and the nightingale;* rending the firmament with the thunder of his verse, shaking the very foundations of the earth and ocean, and disturbing even the lowest shades of Erebus; or else, by a variety of smoothly rapid and mellifluous inflexions, pouring forth a changeful series of tones " of linked sweetness,” that set all comparison at defiance. Every thing, in Greek composition, has a * Δεινὸν δ' εβρονίηςε πατηρ ανδρων τε, θεών τε Γαιαν ἀπειρεσίην, ὀρέων τ' αἱπεινὰ κάρηνα + Ήτε θαμα τρωπωσα χεει πολυηχεα φωνην. Cuncta penè apud Græcos ad euphoniam referuntur. reference to euphony; but it is Homer that had given that original impress to the language. * The multifarious laws of verse were of his enactment. He found the language in an unformed state, spoken by an almost endless variety of tribes and nations, independent of each other, and using their common tongue, according to a sort of capricious and fanciful discretion. With a mind unclouded by prejudice, and an ear unperverted by custom, he examined and heard them all; he saw that the idiom of each was possessed of some peculiar excellence, susceptible of being united with the rest, and combined into a whole, which might be emphatically termed the language of the Gods. Thus the hierophant of the Muses dressed himself in a garment of various dies, and ever changing colours, wherein Dorian simplicity was joined with Attic elegance, and both heightened by the harmonious prolixity of the dialect of the Ionians, Επεων δε πολύς νομος ενθα και ενθα. |