You must pardon me if I think your critical friend quite mistaken in his remarks on this ode. He confounds two species of poetry as distinct and different as black and white. Epic poetry delights in circumstance, and it is only in proportion as it is circumstantial that it has merit; the very essence of it (as its name implies) is narration. So a narrative, devoid of all circumstances, must be very jejune, confused, and unsatisfactory. But here lies the great art of the epic poet,—that he can be minute and circumstantial without descending from the sublime, or exciting other than grand and noble ideas. Thus, when Homer describes the stone, which Diomede threw at Æneas, had be only told us in general terms, that it was a large one,
— Ο δε χερμαδιον λαθε χειρι
Τυδειδης, μεyα ερyον,—
had he stopped here, as many an inferior poet would have done, should we have had so great an idea of the hero’s strength or vigour, as when he adds the following particular and striking circumstances?
— Ο ου δυω y' ανδρε φεροιεν,
Οιοι νυν Βροτοι εισ, ο δε μιν ρεα παλλε και οιος.Iliad E. 1.304.
On the other hand, it is the essence of ode to neglect circumstance, being more confin’d in its plan, and having the sublime equally for its object. In order to attain this, it is obliged to deal in general terms, to give only such hints as will forcibly strike the imagination, from which we may infer the particulars ourselves. It is no demerit or disparagement in your bard to have neglected the minute circumstances of the battle, because it would have been impossible for him to have described them within the narrow limits of his ode. Here lies his great merit, that he hints, he drops, and the images he throws out, supply the absence of a more minute detail, and excite as grand ideas as the best description could have done. And so far I agree with your critical friend, that no poet ever hit upon a grander image than that of “A Menai heb drai o drallanw,” &c., nor could take a nobler method to excite our admiration at the prodigious cause of so amazing an effect. So much for criticism.
Soon after I received your letter I was down at Cambridge, where I had the good fortune to meet with Mr. Gray, the poet, and spent an afternoon with him at his chambers. Our discourse turned on you and the Welsh poetry: I shewed him your letter, and he desired leave to transcribe the passage relating to King Edward’s massacre of the Welsh bards. All the authority he had before, it seems, was only a short hint in Carte’s history: he seemed very glad of this authentic extract. We both join’d in wishing a speedy conclusion to your historical labours, that you might be at leisure to enter upon this far more noble field of ancient British poetry. Excuse me if I think the recovery of particular facts from oblivion, any further than as they contribute to throw light upon compositions, not half of so much consequence to the world, as to recover the compositions themselves.
Your nation and ours are now happily consolidated in one firm indissoluble mass, and it is of very little importance, whether Llewelyn or Edward had the advantage in such a particular encounter. At least very few (even learned and inquisitive readers) will interest themselves in such an enquiry,—whereas the productions of genius, let them come from what quarter they will, are sure to attract the attention of all. Every reader of taste, of whatever country or faction, listens with pleasure, and forms a higher or meaner opinion of any people, in proportion as they are affected by this exertion of their intellectual powers. To give an instance, that is parallel to your own case, the Danes and Swedes have, for this century past, been rescuing their ancient writings from oblivion; they have printed off their Icelandic Histories, and collected what they could of their ancient Runic Poems. The latter have attracted the attention of all Europe; while the former are no otherwise regarded, than as they contribute to throw light on the latter. A very celebrated Frenchman has lately translated some curious specimens of them into his own language; and Mr. Dodsley will soon print a curious Spicilegium of the same kind in English, of which I will procure a copy and send you when printed off. But who will be at the pains (except a few northern antiquaries) to give a careful perusal to the other? I have this moment a voluminous corpus of them (lately borrowed) before me. Even curious and inquisitive, as you are yourself, into historical facts, let me ask you if you would be willing to read 800 pages folio, in a barbarous literal Latin version, concerning the exploits of King Haquin Sarli; the mighty achievements of Ghorfinne Harlecefni, and of twenty other valiant barbarians? Yet, when you come to read the native undenied poetic descriptions of the ancient Runic Bards, their forcible images, their strong paintings, their curious display of ancient manners, I defy the most torpid reader not to be animated and affected; and then we are content to make some enquiry after the history of these savage heroes, that we may understand the songs of which they are the subjects. In like manner, with regard to your own Owain Gwynedd, without intending the least disrespect to so valiant a prince, I believe few readers will desire to know any further of his history, than as it will serve for a comment to Gwalchmai’s very sublime and animated Ode. After all, I would not have any historical monuments perish, or be totally neglected. They may come into use upon a thousand occasions, that we cannot at present foresee, and therefore I am glad, that the northern nations have been careful to secure even the above (to us uninteresting) narratives from destruction. And I should be very glad to have the same care taken of those of the ancient Britons. But I think the first
care is due to these noble remains of ancient genius, which are in so much greater danger or perishing, because so much harder to be understood.
How strongly is our curiosity excited by the mention you make (in your letter to Mr. Williams), of the Epic Poem, written in a.d. 578, and the other works of Aneurin Gwawdrydd. What a noble field for literary application to rescue such a fine monument of antiquity from oblivion: to which every revolving year of delay will most certainly consign it, till it is lost for ever! Hic Labor, hoc opus. I hope, dear Sir, you will take in good part the freedom, with which I have ventured to advise you on a subject, of which you are so much a better judge than myself; but my zeal, though it may be blind, is well meant. I would fain excite you to direct that application, which you so laudably bestow on your ancient language, in such a manner as may be most profitable to yourself, and most reputable to your country.
Macpherson goes on furiously in picking up subscriptions for his proposed Translation of the ancient Epic Poem in the Erse Language; though hardly one reader in ten believes the specimens produced to be genuine. Much greater attention would be due to an editor, who rescues the original itself from oblivion, and fixes its meaning by an accurate version. I entirely agree with you, that a Latin version, as literal as possible, should accompany such ancient pieces, but then I would also have you subjoin at the same time a liberal English translation. By this means your book will take in all readers, both the learned and the superficial. This method of publication has been attended with great success among the northern nations, where all their Runic Pieces have been confronted both with a literal version in Latin, and a more spirited one in the modern languages either of Sweden or Denmark. Were you to endeavour to collect into a corpus all the remains of your ancient poetry, and print it by subscription begun among your own countrymen, and warmly recommended by them to us, it would certainly pay well, and be a very valuable present to the public; but then you ought to send forth a few select pieces into the world, previous to such an undertaking, to bespeak the good opinion of mankind, and this, whenever you please to execute it, shall be attended with my warmest services. In the mean time I hope you will continue to favour me with specimens of your ancient poetry as often as your leisure will permit; and, if any thing else that is curious should occur in the course of your studies, you will confer a great pleasure by imparting it to,