Some Odes there are, likewise, in the free and loose Manner, which seem
to avoid all Method, and yet are conducted by a very clear one; which
affect Transitions, seemingly, without Art, but, for that Reason, have
the more of it; which are above Connexion, and delight in Exclamations,
and frequent Invocation of the Muses; which begin and end abruptly, and
are carried on thro' a Variety of Matter with a sort of divine _Pathos_,
above Rules and Laws, and without Regard to the common Forms of Grammar.
Hence, then, we learn the chief Property of Lyric Poetry, _viz._ that
it abounds with a Sort of Liberty which consists in Digressions and
Excursions. _Pindar_ set his Successors this Example, insomuch that this
Style, when applied to Odes, is generally call'd Pindaric; not that he
is to be esteem'd the Inventor of it: For it is plain that he, and the
rest of the _Grecians_, receiv'd their Learning from the Nations of the
East, the _Jews_ and _Phœnicians_: And it is well known, the eastern
Eloquence abounded not only with Metaphors, and bold Hyperboles, but in
long Digressions; as is sufficiently evident from the sacred Writings.
The _Roman Pindar_ often imitates the _Theban_, and sometimes exceeds
him, even in his characteristic Excellence. Thus in that Ode, where
he addresses himself to the Ship that bore so valuable a Freight as
_Virgil_,
_Sic te, Diva potens Cypri_, &c.
at the Conclusion of the eighth Verse, he inveighs against the Temerity
of Mankind, and pursues this Argument to the End of the Ode, which is
not a very short one. So, again, speaking of the Tree which had like to
have fallen upon him,
_Ille & nefasto te posuit die_, &c.
a few Lines after he adds;
_Quam pene furvæ regna Proserpinæ,
Et judicantem vidimus Æacum,
Sedesque descriptas piorum; &
Æoliis fidibus querentem
Sappho puellis de popularibus;
Et Te sonantem plenius aureo,
Alcæe, plectro, dura navis,
Dura fugæ mala, dura belli?_
How near was I to Realms of Night?
Where _Minos_ does in Judgment sit;
Where pious Shades walk o'er the Plains;
Where _Proserpine_ and Darkness reigns:
Where _Sappho_'s warbling Measures tell
By what disastrous Cause she fell:
_Alcæus_, in sublimer Strains,
Of Toils by Sea and Land complains.
_Oldsw._
He then expatiates into their Praises, and so concludes this elegant
Ode with them. It is, indeed, just Matter of Complaint, that we have
only some Fragments of both these Poets remaining, to whom we owe the
Invention of the two chief Kinds of Lyric Poetry. In this loose Way of
Writing, the Poet just touches upon the Subject at first propos'd, and
strait diverts to another:
[287]----_Cætera fluminis
Ritu feruntur, nunc medio alveo
Cum pace delabentis Etruscum
In mare, nunc lapides adesos
Stirpesque raptas, & pecus, & domos,
Volventis una, non sine montium
Clamore, vicinæque silvæ;
Cum fera diluvies quietos
Irritat amnes._
All worldly Things, like Waters, flow,
Sometimes too high, sometimes too low:
Sometimes the even Current gently glides
Down to the Deep, and oft with mighty Roar
Bears Rocks upon its swelling Tides,
Sweeps Herds and Houses from the Shore,
And Trunks of Trees; the Rivers quit their Bounds,
Whilst ev'ry lofty Hill, and neighb'ring Wood resounds.
_Oldsworth._
Nothing can describe the unbounded Nature of this Kind of Ode better
than those Lines of _Horace_, which, at the same Time, give us a lively
Instance of it. We may add, to the same Purpose, his Description of the
_Theban_ Poet;
_Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres
Quem super notas aluere ripas,
Fervet, immensusque ruit profundo
Pindarus ore._
_Pindar_'s a mighty raging Flood,
That from some Mountain flows,
Rapid, and warm, and deep, and loud,
Whose Force no Limits knows.
_Oldsworth._
From what has been said, some will be induc'd to think, that to write a
Lyric Poem, which is indulg'd with so many Liberties, is the easiest
Thing imaginable: But, in Reality, it is the most difficult in every
Respect, except its Shortness, as it is the most elegant. It demands not
only a flowing Imagination, Brightness, Life, Sublimity, and Elegance,
but the nicest Art, and finest Judgment, so as to seem luxuriant, and
not to be so; and under the Shew of transgressing all Laws, to preserve
them. For it is not impossible but a Writer's Fire may be temper'd with
the severest Judgment; and Poets may be said, tho' Lovers cannot, to be
_mad with Reason_.
Those Digressions which quite leave the Subject, and never return to it
again, please me less than some others of a very different Kind. The
former, no doubt, are defensible, and sometimes highly commendable;
for a Poet is not always oblig'd to dwell upon the same Argument from
one End to the other; and I would rather call them Transitions, than
Digressions: But the Digressions which I chiefly admire, are such as
_take Occasion_ from some _Adjunct_ or _Circumstance_ of the Subject,
to pass on to _somewhat else_ not totally distinct from it, with which
the Imagination having been diverted for some Time, new Matter starts
up, and from some new Adjunct of that, the Poet is brought back, of
a sudden, to his first Design. I cannot produce a better Instance of
this, out of _Horace_ himself, than from a late Ode of one of our own
Countrymen[289], who, since he has paid the Debt of Nature, may, without
Envy, receive the Tribute of our Praise; that beautiful Ode, I mean,
upon the Death of the famous Dr. _Pocock_; where the Poet describes his
Travels to the East, in these Words[290]:
_Quin nunc requiris tecta virentia
Nini ferocis, nunc Babel arduum,
Immane opus! crescentibusque
Vertice sideribus propinquum!
Nequicquam; amici disparibus sonis
Eludit aures nescius artifex,
Linguasque miratur recentes,
In patriis peregrinus oris.
Vestitur hinc tot sermo coloribus,
Quot Tu, Pococki, dissimilis Tui
Orator effers_, &c.
Now _Ninus'_ Walls you search with curious Eye,
Now _Babel_'s Tow'r, the Rival of the Sky.
In vain! the mad Attempt new Tongues confound,
The Toil eluded by discordant Sound:
To his own Sire the Son _Barbarian_ grown,
Unletter'd, starts a Language not his own.
Hence various Bounds to Nations set by Speech; }
But not to You, who, Orator in each, }
His proper Tongue th'admiring Native teach. }
With what Elegance does the Poet divert from his Purpose, that he may
bring in a beautiful Description of _Babel_, and the Confusion of
Tongues: Then, with no less Elegance, he returns to the Praise of his
venerable Traveller, surprizingly skill'd in most of them. Afterwards,
with a peculiar Delicacy, his Comment upon _Joel_ is hinted at, and from
thence Occasion taken to represent that terrible Day of the Lord, which
the Prophet speaks of, and then the holy Ardour of his Interpreter:
_Ac sicut albens perpetua nive
Simul favillas, & cineres sinu
Eructat ardenti, & pruinis
Contiguas rotat Ætna flammas:
Sic te trementem, te nive candidum,
Mens intus urget, mens agit ignea_
_Sequi reluctantem Joelem
Per tonitru, aereasque nubes._
_Annon pavescis, dum Tuba pallidum
Ciet Sionem? dum tremulum polo
Caligat astrum, atque incubanti
Terra nigrans tegitur sub umbra?
Quod agmen! heu! quæ turba sequacibus
Tremenda flammis! quis strepitantium
Flictus rotarum est! O Pococki
Egregie! O animose Vatis
Interpres abstrusi! O simili fere
Correpte flamma!_----
As _Ætna_'s lucid with perpetual Snow,
While heaving Flames within its Entrails glow;
O'er the hoar Frost the raging Fury's spread,
And ruddy Flouds of Fire beam round its Head:
So trembling thou, and venerably white,
Thy urging Soul tries sacred _Sion_'s Height,
Attends thy _Joel_, clad in dark Array,
Where Clouds and Lightnings mark his awful Way.
Hark! dost not shudder while the Trumpet's Sound
The tott'ring Tow'rs of _Solyma_ rebound?
Behold what Troops come rolling from afar
With Gleams of Terror, and the Din of War!
In the bright Front consuming Fires ride,
And Slaughter stalks indignant by their Side.
Oh! whither, whither tends thy eager Course,
Rapt by thy own, thy kindred Prophet's Force?
The Matter and Thoughts are sublime and elegant, the Transitions artful;
and it is, in short, all over wonderful.
This, likewise, is a Peculiarity in Lyric Poetry, that (as the Name
implies) it is attended with musical Instruments more than any other.
_More than any other_, I say, because there's no Necessity that Odes
should be always sung; they are often repeated: Nor is Music so
peculiar to them, as to be suitable to no other Poems; for the Flute
was anciently join'd with Elegy; and now a-days we see other Kinds of
Poetry accompanied with Music, nay, even Prose itself; tho' anciently,
I say, it was thought more _peculiarly_ adapted to the Ode. Hence we
find many Ideas among the Lyrics, that we meet with no where else; hence
the frequent mention of musical Instruments, I may say the frequent
Invocation of them.
----_Age dic Latinum,
Barbite, carmen._
[292]
----_Nec turpem senectam
Degere, nec cithara carentem._
[293]----_Si neque tibias
Euterpe cohibet, nec Polyhymnia
Lesboum refugit tendere barbiton._
Which are Circumstances that often throw an additional Ornament on a
Poem.
The Ancients have left us very imperfect Accounts of their Music. They
that would see a Description of their chief Instruments, the Harp and
Flute, may consult _Vossius_, and others. But the Manner of their
_Composing_ has been scarce touch'd upon by any. For my Part, I cannot
but think it was more simple than our modern Way, and consisted of fewer
Divisions. And my Reason is, because we meet with very few Encomiums
of this Art, or of those that excell'd in it; nay, scarce any of their
Names are handed down to Posterity. There's frequent mention, indeed,
among the Lyrics, of musical Instruments, as Adjuncts of that Kind of
Poetry; but it is scarce credible the Ancients should have said so
little of this Art, if it had flourish'd as much in their Time, as it
does in ours. As, therefore, we are much inferior to them in Lyric
Poetry, so in its Sister Science we far exceed them. We have not their
_Horaces_; nor had they those masterly Hands which are now, or lately
have been the Admiration of all _Europe_; none to be compar'd with our
_British Orpheus_[294], or his worthy Successor[295], that receives, on
this Day, Academical Honours.
The proper Subjects for _Odes_, are almost all comprehended in the
following Lines of _Horace_:
_Musa dedit fidibus divos, puerosque deorum,
Et pugilem victorem, & equum certamine primum,
Et juvenum curas, & libera vina referre._
Gods, Heroes, Conquerors, _Olympic_ Crowns,
Love's pleasing Cares, and the free Joys of Wine,
Are proper Subjects for the Lyric Song.
_Roscom._
Heroes and Triumphs, we before observ'd to be the principal Subjects;
and _Horace_, accordingly, places them first. But, in Course of Time,
Love and Entertainments were likewise thought very suitable ones.
_Horace_ has left us several of both Sorts, writ with a Sweetness and
Elegance that always distinguish him: Nay, he more than once insinuates,
that light Subjects come peculiarly within his Province, and that he
stands in need of Apology when he presumes to meddle with greater:
_Nos convivia, nos prælia virginum_, &c.
Of Treats we sing, and Love Intrigues.
And after a Recital of _Juno_'s Speech to the Gods, he concludes:
_Non hæc jocosæ conveniunt lyræ;
Quo, Musa, tendis?_
Stay, Muse; this suits but ill the sportive Lyre.
But these Expressions are the Effects of the Poet's Modesty, not to
be understood critically; not as spoken of Lyrics in general, but
of his own, which with a becoming Decency, he says, are unequal to
greater Subjects. For the Ode in its own Nature is _chiefly_ adapted
to the Sublime; and nothing can have more of that Quality than some of
_Horace_'s. Who, for Instance, can read, without Rapture,
_Motum ex Metello Consule civicum_, &c.
_Jam nunc minaci murmure cornuum
Perstringis aures; jam litui strepunt;
Jam fulgor armorum fugaces
Terret equos, equitumque vultus.
Audire magnos jam videor duces
Non indecoro pulvere sordidos;
Et cuncta terrarum subacta,
Præter atrocem animum Catonis._
Methinks I hear the horrid Din of Arms:
Bright gleaming Armour paints the Field:
The rattling Trumpet pours its dread Alarms:
The Brave lie low in Dust, the Valiant yield:
Revenge and Honour the stern Warrior warms,
And ev'ry Breast, but _Cato_'s, is with Horror fill'd.
_Oldsworth._
Or this:
_Descende Cœlo, & dic, age, tibia,
Regina, longum, Calliope, melos_, &c.
And to mention one more:
_Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem_, &c.
And many others I might produce, from the same Poet, of equal Sublimity.
But in the Verses abovemention'd he has omitted one Subject very
suitable to the Ode, and which he himself has often happily attempted;
that, I mean, which relates to moral Reflections; which not only affords
the greatest Advantage to the Reader, but, for aught I know, the
greatest Elegance to the Writer. Many of his Odes are full of it:
_Æquam memento rebus in arduis
Servare mentem_, &c.
Be calm, my Friend, be easy, and sedate,
And bend your Soul to ev'ry State.
_Oldsworth._
[303]
_Cedes coemptis saltibus, & domo,
Villaque flavus quam Tiberis lavit
Cedes, & extructis in altum
Divitiis potietur hæres._
You must your Fields and pleasant Seat forego,
Where _Tiber_'s yellow Waters flow;
You must to _Pluto_'s gloomy Realm repair,
And leave your Heaps of Wealth to a luxurious Heir.
_Oldsworth._
Again:
_Eheu! fugaces, Posthume, Posthume,
Labuntur anni_, &c.
And, to omit innumerable other Instances of this Nature, I will add only
his Ode on Avarice:
_Crescit indulgens sibi dirus hydrops,
Nec sitim pellit, nisi causa morbi
Fugerit venis, & aquosus albo
Corpore languor._
'Tis great this Passion to controul,
For 'tis the Dropsy of the Soul:
Unless you purge each sickly Vein,
'Twill thirst, and drink, and thirst again.
_Oldsw._
These moral Odes are often interspers'd with Encomiums on a Country
Life, on moderate Circumstances, and the like; which always afford
Matter for entertaining Descriptions:
_Vivitur parvo bene, cui paternum
Splendet in mensa tenui salinum;
Nec leves somnos timor, aut cupido
Sordidus, aufert._
Blest he with little, on whose thrifty Board
That Salt still shines, that call'd his Father Lord;
No vexing Fears his Breast can seize,
No sordid Lust will break his Ease.
_Creech._
Upon the whole, then, we see, that the Ode may be either Sublime, or
of the lower Strain; jocose or serious; mournful or exulting; even
satirical sometimes, epigrammatical never. It may consist of Wit, but
not of that Turn which is the peculiar Characteristic of Epigram. They
that have a Mind to know the various Classes of Odes, with their uncouth
Titles, into which they are by some Writers distinguish'd; may consult
_Vossius_, _Scaliger_, and others. This to me is an Enquiry not more
superfluous than disagreeable; since any Thing, we find, may be the
Subject of them, if they are but dress'd up in their own peculiar Manner.
From whence the Pleasure arises with which this Kind of Poetry affects
us, may be known from what we have before discours'd of the Pleasure
of Poetry in general, when we examin'd how it address'd itself to the
Passions, the common Principles of human Nature, and human Happiness.
I would only now observe, that what we said of Poetry in general, is
applicable to the Lyric more particularly: Besides the Advantages of
a florid and figurative Style, it commands that Sweetness and Variety
of Numbers; that Diversity of Thought; that Elegance of Conciseness;
that Energy of Expression; that Quickness of Transition, and Liberty of
Excursion; that lively Ardour, and noble Sublimity, which can never fail
to raise in the Soul all those agreeable Sensations, we before describ'd.
It is not my Design to give an historical Account of the ancient Writers
in this Kind of Poetry: _Vossius_ reckons up several among the _Greeks_
of both Sexes; we have nothing but Fragments of all of them remaining,
except the Poems of _Pindar_ and _Anacreon_. The former I have already
spoke of; those of the latter are so few, and the peculiar Nature of
them so well known, that tho' they deserve much Praise, they need no
farther Explication. Among the _Romans_, we have none of any Note,
except _Horace_; but he, alone, indeed, is equal to many; and we may
venture to affirm, that his Odes exceed any Collection of Poems the
learned World has yet been bless'd with.
To come now to later Times; it must be own'd, the Moderns are excell'd
by the Ancients in no Kind of Writing more than this; they succeed best,
when they make use of their Language; for many of the Moderns are very
good Masters of it. _Casimire_ is often very happy this Way; but often
harsh, turgid, and pompously empty; of which the present Solemnity
reminds me of one Instance. The Poet is speaking in Praise of a Peace
lately made; and after he had begun well enough,
_Jam minæ sævi cecidere belli,
Jam prophanatis male pulsa terris
Et salus, & pax._
he goes on thus,
----_niveis revisit
Oppida bigis._
Then comes, a little after:
_Grandinat gemmis, riguoque cælum
Depluit auro._
The Verses are smooth and sonorous; only they have the Misfortune to
want common Sense. But in another Ode he is much happier, unless,
perhaps, a little too bold:
_Vive, jucundæ metuens juventæ,
Crispe Lævini; fugiunt avaræ
Mensium lunæ, nimiumque volvi
Lubricus Æther._
But the Lines that follow, a little after, are perfectly just, and
beautiful:
_Quod tibi larga dedit hora dextra,
Hora furaci rapuit sinistra;
More fallentis tenerum jocosæ
Matris alumnum._
Our Countryman _Hannes_ needed only to have writ more to have made
himself second to _Horace_ in all future Ages. But the Odes that are
writ in the modern Languages, in _French_, _Italian_, and _English_,
have nothing of the Genius of the Ancients. Ours, which generally go
under the Name of _Pindarics_, are such empty, trifling Performances,
that they are below even the Censure of a Critic. A Heap of Verses,
tho' never so insipid and ridiculous, form'd as little upon the Laws of
Reason, as of Metre, a monstrous Product of the Brain, shall be call'd,
forsooth, a _Pindaric_! a Scandal which it is to be wish'd the Learned
would no longer suffer to be offer'd to so sacred a Title. Our Songs and
Catches, likewise, which are daily set to Music, whatever Charms they
may borrow from thence, have very rarely any of their own; nay, it is
observable, that often the worst Verses are set to Music best; as if
true Poetry, and good Music, Sisters as they are, cou'd never agree:
Which is a Reproach that redounds no less to the Dishonour of Music,
than the former, I just mention'd, was to _Pindar_. But better Times
appear, in which we hope to see these, and all other Arts, improv'd to
their utmost Perfection; in this happy Age, I mean, wherein (that I may
conclude my Discourse as I began, with a View at once to our present
Solemnity, and our present Subject)
_Jam Fides, & Pax, & Honor, Pudorque
Priscus, & neglecta redire Virtus
Audet, apparetque beata pleno
Copia cornu._
Now _Honour_, _Chastity_ and _Peace_,
_Virtue_ and banish'd _Faith_, return;
Now Plenty broods a fair Increase,
And fills with Flow'rs her fragrant Horn.
_Olds._