the original, form the most natural and affecting picture that can possibly be imagined.

In the description of battles, Homer particularly excels. He works up the hurry, the terror, and confusion of them in so masterly a manner, as to place the reader in the very midst of the engagement. It is here, that the fire of his genius is most highly displayed; insomuch, that Virgil's battles, and indeed those of most other poets, are cold and inanimated in comparison of Homer's.

With regard to similes, no poet abounds so much with them. Several of them are beyond doubt extremely beautiful: such as those of the fires in the Trojan camp compared to the moon and stars by night; Paris going forth to battle, to the war-horse prancing to the river; and Euphorbus slain, to the flowering shrub cut down by a sudden blast ; all which are among the finest poetical passages that are any where to be found. I am not, however, of opinion, that Homer's comparisons, taken in general, are his greatest beauties. They come too thick upon us; and often interrupt the train of his narration or description. The resemblance on which they are founded, is sometimes not clear; and the objects whence they are taken, are too uniform. His lions, bulls, eagles, and herds of sheep, recur too frequently; and the allusions in some of his similes, even after the allowances that are to be made for ancient manners, must be admitted to be debasing.*

My observations, hitherto, have been made upon the Iliad only. It is necessary to take some notice of the Odyssey also. Longinus's criticism upon it is not without foundation, that Homer may in this poem be compared to the setting sun, whose grandeur still remains without the heat of his meridian beams. It wants the vigour and sublimity of the 'Iliad; yet, at the same time, possesses so many beauties, as to be justly entitled to high praise. It is a very amusing poem, and has much greater variety than the Iliad; it contains many interesting stories, and beautiful descriptions. We see every where the same descriptive and dramatic genius, and the same fertility of invention that appears in the other work. It descends indeed from the dignity of gods, and heroes, and warlike achievements; but in recompense, we have more pleasing pictures of ancient manners. Instead of that ferocity which reigns in the Iliad, the Odyssey presents us with the most amiable images of hospitality and humanity; entertains us with many a wonderful adventure, and many a

* The severest critic upon Homer in modern times, M. la Motte, admits all that his admirers urge for the superiority of his genius and talents as a poet: "C'étoit un génie naturellement poetique, ami des fables et des merveilleux, et porté en général à l'imitation, soit des objets de la nature, soit des sentimens et des actions des hommes. Il avoit l'esprit vaste et fécond; plus elevé que délicat, plus naturel qu'ingenieux, et plus amoureux de l'abondance que du choix.-Il a saisi, par une supériorité de goût, les prémieres idées de l'eloquence dans toutes les genres; il a parlé la langage des toutes les passions; et il a du moins ouvert aux écrivains qui doivent le suivre une infinite de routes, qu'il ne restoit plus qu'à applanir. Il y a apparence que en quelques temps qu' Homère eût vecu, il eût été du moins, le plus grand Poete de son pais; et a ne le prendre que dans ce sens, on peut dire, qu'il est le maître de ceux mêmes qui l'ont surpassé."-Discours sur Homère. Oeuvres de la Motte, Tome 2de. After these high praises of the author, he indeed endeavours to bring the merit of the Iliad very low. But his principal objections turn on the debasing ideas which are there given of the gods, the gross characters and manners of the heroes, and the imperfect morality of the sentiments; which, as Voltaire observes, is like accusing a painter for having drawn his figures in the dress of the times. Homer painted his gods, such as popular tradition then represented them; and described such characters and sentiments, as he found among those with whom he lived.

landscape of nature; and instructs us by a constant vein of morality and virtue, which runs through the poem.

At the same time, there are some defects which must be acknowledged in the Odyssey. Many scenes in it fall below the majesty which we naturally expect in an epic poem. The last twelve books, after Ulysses is landed in Ithaca, are, in several parts, tedious and languid; and though the discovery which Ulysses makes of himself to his nurse, Euryclea, and his interview with Penelope before she knows him, in the nineteenth book, are tender and affecting, yet the poet does not seem happy in the great anagnorisis, or the discovery of Ulysses to Penelope. She is too cautious and distrustful, and we are disappointed of the surprise of joy, which we expected on that high occesion.

After having said so much of the father of epic poetry, it is now time to proceed to Virgil, who has a very marked character, quite distinct from that of Homer. As the distinguishing excellencies of the Iliad are simplicity and fire; those of the Eneid are elegance and tenderness. Virgil is, beyond doubt, less animated and less sublime than Homer; but to counterbalance this, be has fewer negligences, greater variety, and supports more of a correct and regular dignity, throughout his work. When we begin to read the Iliad, we find ourselves in the region of the most remote, and even unrefined antiquity. When we open the Eneid, we discover all the correctness, and the improvements of the Augustan age. We meet with no contentions of heroes about a female slave; no violent scolding, nor abusive language; but the poem opens with the utmost magnificence; with Juno, forming designs for preventing Eneas's establishment in Italy, and Æneas himself, presented to us with all his fleet in the middle of a storm, which is described in the highest style of poetry.

The subject of the Æneid is extremely happy; still more so, in my opinion, than either of Homer's poems. As nothing could be more noble; nor carry more of epic dignity, so nothing could be more flattering and interesting to the Roman people, than Virgil's deriving the origin of their state from so famous a hero as Eneas. The object was splendid in itself; it gave the poet a theme, taken from the ancient traditionary history of his own country; it allowed him to connect his subject with Homer's stories, and to adopt all his mythology; it afforded him the opportunity of frequently glancing at all the future great exploits of the Romans, and of describing Italy, and the very territory of Rome, in its ancient and fabulous state. The establishment of Eneas constantly traversed by Juno, leads to a great diversity of events, of voyages, and wars; and furnishes a proper intermixture of the incidents of peace with martial exploits. Upon the whole, I believe, there is nowhere to be found so complete a model of an epic fable, or story, as Virgil's Æneid. I see no foundation for the opinion entertained by some critics, that the Æneid is to be considered as an allegorical poem, which carries a constant reference to the character and reign of Augustus Cæsar; or, that Virgil's main design in composing the Eneid, was to reconcile the Romans to the government of that prince, who is supposed to be shadowed out under the character of Æneas. Virgil,* indeed, like the other poets of that age, takes every opportunity which his subject affords him, of

* As particularly in that noted passage of the 6th book, I. 791.
Hic vir, hic est, tibi quem promitti sæpius audis, &c.

paying court to Augustus. But, to imagine that he carried a political plan in his view, through the whole poem, appears to me no more than a fanciful refinement. He had sufficient motives, as a poet, to determine him to the choice of his subject, from its being, in itself, both great and pleasing from its being suited to his genius, and its being attended with the peculiar advantages which I mentioned above, for the full display of poetical talents.

Unity of action is perfectly preserved; as, from beginning to end, one main object is always kept in view, the settlement of Æneas in Italy by the order of the gods. As the story comprehends the transactions of several years, part of the transactions are very properly thrown into a recital made by the hero. The episodes are linked with sufficient connexion to the main subject; and the nodus, or intrigue of the poem, is, according to the plan of ancient machinery, happily formed. The wrath of Juno, who opposes herself to the Trojan settlement in Italy, gives rise to all the difficulties which obstruct Eneas's undertaking, and connects the human with the celestial operations, throughout the whole work. Hence arises the tempest which throws Eneas upon the shore of Africa; the passion of Dido, who endeavours to detain him at Carthage; and the efforts of Turnus, who opposes him in war. Till, at last, upon a composition made with Jupiter, that the Trojan name shall be for ever sunk in the Latin, Juno foregoes her resentment, and the hero becomes victorious.

In these main points, Virgil has conducted his work with great propriety, and shown his art and judgment. But the admiration due to so eminent a poet, must not prevent us from remarking some other particulars in which he has failed. First, there are scarce any characters marked in the Æneid. In this respect it is insipid, when compared to the Iliad, which is full of characters and life. Achates, and Cloanthus, and Gyas, and the rest of the Trojan heroes, who accompanied Æneas into Italy, are so many undistinguished figures, who are in no way made known to us, either by any sentiments which they utter, or any memorable exploits which they perform. Even Eneas himself is not a very interesting hero. He is described, indeed, as pious and brave; but his character is not marked with any of those strokes that touch the heart; it is a sort of cold and tame character; and throughout his behaviour to Dido, in the fourth book, especially in the speech which he makes after she suspected his intention of leaving her, there appears a certain hardness and want of relenting, which is far from rendering him amiable.* Dido's own character is by much the best supported in the whole Æneid. The warmth of her passions, the keenness of her indignation and resentment, and the violence of her own character, exhibit a figure greatly more animated than any other which Virgil has drawn.

Besides this defect of character in the Æneid, the distribution and management of the subject are, in some respects, exceptionable. The Eneid, it is true, must be considered with the indulgence due to a work not thoroughly completed. The six last books are said not to have received the finishing hand of the author; and for this reason, he ordered, by his will, the Eneid to be committed to the flames. But though this may account for incorrectness of execution, it does not apologize for a falling off in the subject, which seems to take place in the latter part

* Num fletu ingemuit nostro? Num lumina flexit?

Num lachrymas victus dedit? Aut miseratus amantem est? En. iv. 368,

of the work. The wars with the Latins are inferior in point of dignity, to the more interesting objects which had before been presented to us, in the destruction of Troy, the intrigue with Dido, and the descent into hell. And in those Italian wars, there is, perhaps, a more material fault still, in the conduct of the story. The reader, as Voltaire has observed, is tempted to take part with Turnus against Æneas. Turnus, a brave young prince, in love with Lavinia, his near relation, is destined for her by general consent, and highly favoured by her mother. Lavinia herself discovers no reluctance to the match: when there arrives a stranger, a fugitive, from a distant region, who had never seen her, and who," founding a claim to an establishment in Italy upon oracles and prophecies, embroils the country in war, kills the lover of Livinia, and proves the occasion of her mother's death. Such a plan is not fortunately laid, for disposing us to be favourable to the hero of the poem; and the defect might have been easily remedied, by the poet's making Æneas, instead of distressing Lavinia, deliver her from the persecution of some rival who was odious to her, and to the whole country.

But, notwithstanding these defects, which it was necessary to remark, Virgil possesses beauties which have justly drawn the admiration of ages, and which, to this day, hold the balance in equilibrium between his fame, and that of Homer. The principal and distinguishing excellency of Virgil, and which, in my opinion, he possesses beyond all poets, is tendernesss. Nature had endowed him with exquisite sensibility; he felt every affecting circumstance in the scenes he describes; and, by a single stroke, he knows how to reach the heart. This, in an epic poem, is the merit next to sublimity; and puts it in an author's power to render his composition extremely interesting to all readers.

The chief beauty of this kind, in the Iliad, is, the interview of Hector and Andromache. But, in the Eneid, there are many such. The second book is one of the greatest masterpieces that ever was executed by any hand; and Virgil seems to have put forth there the whole strength of his genius, as the subject afforded a variety of scenes, both of the awful and tender kind. The images of horror, presented by a city burned and sacked in the night, are finely mixed with pathetic and affecting incidents. Nothing, in any poet, is more beautifully described than the death of old Priam; and the family-pieces of Æneas, Anchises, and Creusa, are as tender as can be conceived. In many passages of the Eneid, the same pathetic spirit shines; and they have been always the favourite passages in that work. The fourth book, for instance, relating the unhappy passion and death of Dido, has been always most justly admired, and abounds with beauties of the highest kind. The interview of Æneas with Andromache and Helenus, in the third book; the episodes of Pallas and Evander, of Nisus and Euryalus, of Lausus and Mezentius, in the Italian wars, are all striking instances of the poet's power of raising the tender emotions. For we must observe, that though the Eneid be an unequal poem, and, in some places, languid, yet there are beauties scattered through it all; and not a few, even in the last six books. The best and most finished books, upon the whole, are, the first, the second, the fourth, the sixth, the seventh, the eighth, and the twelfth. Virgil's battles are far inferior to Homer's in point of fire and sublimity: but there is one important episode, the descent into hell, in which he has outdone Homer in the Odyssey, by many degrees. There is nothing in all antiquity equal, in its kind, to the sixth book of the

Æneid. The scenery, and the objects, are great and striking; and fill the mind with that solemn awe, which was to be expected from a view of the invisible world. There runs through the whole description, a certain philosophical sublime; which Virgil's Platonic genius, and the enlarged ideas of the Augustan age, enabled him to support with a degree of majesty, far beyond what the rude ideas of Homer's age suffered him to attain. With regard to the sweetness and beauty of Virgil's numbers, throughout his whole works, they are so well known, that it were needless to enlarge in the praise of them.

Upon the whole, as to the comparative merit of these two great princes of epic poetry, Homer and Virgil, the former must, undoubtedly, be admitted to be the greater genius; the latter to be the more correct writer. Homer was an original in his art, and discovers both the beauties and the defects which are to be expected in an original author, compared with those who succeed him; more boldness, more nature and ease, more sublimity and force; but greater irregularities and negligences in composition. Virgil has, all along, kept his eye upon Homer; in many places, he has not so much imitated, as he has literally translated him. The description of the storm, for instance, in the first Eneid, and Æneas's speech upon that occasion, are translations from the fifth book of the Odyssey; not to mention almost all the similes of Virgil, which are no other than copies of those of Homer. The preeminence in invention, therefore, must, beyond doubt, be ascribed to Homer. As to the pre-eminence in judgment, though many critics incline to give it to Virgil, yet in my opinion, it hangs doubtful. In Homer, we discern all the Greek vivacity; in Virgil, all the Roman stateliness. Homer's imagination is by much the most rich and copious; Virgil's the most chaste and correct. The strength of the former lies, in his power of warming the fancy; that of the latter, in his power of touching the heart. Homer's style is more simple and animated; Virgil's more elegant and uniform. The first has, on many occasions, a sublimity to which the latter never attains; but the latter, in return, never sinks below a certain degree of epic dignity, which cannot so clearly be pronounced of the former. Not, however, to detract from the admiration due to both these great poets, most of Homer's defects may reasonably be imputed, not to his genius, but to the manners of the age in which he lived; and for the feeble passages of the Æneid, this excuse ought to be admitted, that the Æneid was left an unfinished work.

LECTURE XLIV.

LUCAN'S PHARSALIA-TASSO'S JERUSALEM-CAMOENS'S LUSIADFENELON'S TELEMACHUS-VOLTAIRE'S HENRIADE-MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.

AFTER Homer and Virgil, the next great epic poet of ancient times, who presents himself, is Lucan. He is a poet who deserves our attention, on account of a very peculiar mixture of great beauties with great