His Youth did promife much, and his ripe Age
Will fee it all performed.

Vol. I. pag. 5.

A Youth gazing on every Limb of the victorious Chief, then begging his Sword, feeling its Edge, and poifing it in his Arm, are Attitudes nobly expreffive of the inward Ardor and Ecftacy of Soul: But what is moft obfervable is,

By this beautiful Paufe or Break, the Action and Picture continue in View, and the Poet, like Homer, is eloquent in Silence. It is a Species of Beauty that fhews an Intimacy with that Father of Poetry, in, whom it occurs extremely often*. Milton has an exceeding fine one in the Description of his LazarHouse.

Despair

'Tended the Sick, bufieft from Couch to Couch, And over them triumphant Death his Dart Shook,-but delay'd to ftrike, &c.

Paradife loft, Book II. lin. 492.

As Shakespear did not study Verfification so much as those Poets who were converfant in Homer and Virgil, I don't remember in him any striking Inftance of this Species of Beauty. But he even wanted it not, his Sentiments are fo amazingly striking, that they pierce the Heart at once; and Diction and Numbers, which are the Beauty and Nerves adorning and invigorating the Thoughts of other Poets, to

* See two noble Inftances at 7. 141. of the 13th Book of the Iliad, and in the Application of the fame Simile a few Lines below.

VOL. I.

b

him

him are but like the Bodies of Angels, azure Vehicles, thro' which the whole Soul fhines tranfparent. Of this take the following Inftance. The old Belarius in Cymbeline is describing the in-born Royalty of the two Princes whom he had bred up as Peasants in his Cave.

This Paladour, (whom

The King his Father call'd Guiderius) Jove!
When on my three-foot Stool I fit, and tell
The warlike Feats I've done, his Spirits fly out
Into my Story: fay thus mine Enemy fell,
And thus I fet my Foot on's Neck-even then
The Princely Blood flows in his Cheek, he fweats,
Strains bis young Nerves, and puts himself in
Pofture

That acts my Words.

Cymbeline, A& III. Scene 3.

Much the fame Difference as between these two Paffages occurs likewife in the following Pictures of Rural Melancholy, the firft of Innocence forlorn, the fecond of Philofophic Tenderness.

I have a Boy

Sent by the Gods I hope to this Intent,

Not yet feen in the Court. Hunting the Buck
I found him fitting by a Fountain-fide,
Of which he borrow'd fome to quench his Thirst,
And paid the Nymph again as much in Tears;
A Garland lay by him, made by himself
Of many feveral Flowers, bred in the Bay,

Stuck

Stuck in that myftic Order that the Rareness
Delighted me: but ever when he turn'd
His tender Eyes upon them, he would weep;
As if he meant to make them grow again.
Seeing fuch pretty helpless Innocence

Dwell in his Face, I ask'd him all his Story;
He told me, that his Parents gentle died,
Leaving him to the Mercy of the Fields,
Which gave him Roots, and of the Crystal Springs
Which did not stop their Courses; and the Sun
Which still be thank'd him, yielded him his Light.
Then took he up his Garland, and did fhew,
What every Flower, as Country People hold,
Did fignify; and how all, order'd thus,
Expreft bis Grief; and to my Thoughts did read
The prettiest Lecture of his Country Art

That could be wifh'd, so that methought I could
Have ftudied it. Philafter, Vol. I. p. 108.

Jaques in As you like it is Moralizing upon the Fate of the Deer goared by the Hunters in their native Confines.

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that,

To Day my Lord of Amiens and myself
Did fteal behind him, as he lay along
Under an Oak, whofe antique Root peeps out
Upon the Brook that brawls along this Wood;
To the which Place a poor fequeftered Stag,
That from the Hunter's Aim had ta'en a Hurt,

b 2

Did

Did come to languish; and indeed, My Lord,
The wretched Animal heav'd forth fuch Groans,
That their Difcharge did ftretch his leathern Coat
Almoft to bursting; and the big round Tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent Nofe
In piteous Chafe; and thus the hairy Fool
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th' extremeft Verge of the fwift Brook,
Augmenting it with Tears.

Duke. But what faid Jaques?
Did he not moralize this Spectacle?
I Lord. O yes into a thousand Similies.
Firft, for his weeping in the needless Stream;
Poor Deer, quoth he, thou mak'ft a Teftament
As Worldings do, giving thy Sum of more
To that which had too much; then being alone
Left and abandon'd by his Velvet Friends :
'Tis right, quoth he, thus Mifery doth part
The Flux of Company: anon a careless Herd,
Full of the Pasture, jumps along by him,
And never ftays to greet him: ay, quoth Jaques,
Sweep on ye fat and greafie Citizens,

'Tis just the Fashion. &c.

Shakespear is certainly much preferable, but 'tis only as a Raphael is preferable to a Guido-Philafter alone would afford Numbers of Paffages fimilar to fome of Shakespear's, upon which the fame Obfervation will hold true, they are not equal to his very beft Manner, but they approach near it. As I have mentioned Jonson being in Poetic Energy

about

about the fame Distance below our Authors, as Shakespear is above them. I fhall quote three Paffages which feem to me in this very Scale. Jonfon tranflates verbatim from Saluft great part of Catiline's Speech to his Soldiers, but adds in the Clofe:

Methinks, I fee Death and the Furies waiting
What we will do ; and all the Heaven at leafure
For the great Spectacle. Draw then
your Swords:
And if our Destiny envy our Virtue
The Honour of the Day, yet let us care
To fell ourselves at fuch a Price, as may
Undo the World to buy us; and make Fate
While fhe tempts ours to fear her own Eftate.

Catiline, A&t V.

Jonson has here added greatly to the Ferocity, Terror and Despair of Catiline's Speech, but it is confonant to his Character both in his Life and Death. The Image in the three firft Lines is extremely noble, and may be faid to emulate tho' not quite to reach the poetic Exftacy of the following Paffage in Bonduca. Suetonius the Roman General having his fmall Army hem'd round by Multitudes, tells his Soldiers that the Number of the Foes,

Is but to flick more Honour on your Actions,
Load with virtuous Names, and to your
Memories

you

Tie never-dying Time and Fortune conftant.
Go on in full Affurance, draw your Swords
As daring and as confident as Juftice.

The Gods of Rome fight for ye; loud Fame calls ye
Pitch'd