You, too, ye Laurels; and thee, Myrtle, next; Because thus mix'd, you fragrant Odours blend.
Beauty in Writing may be consider'd as twofold: Either the Elegant, or Sublime. The latter is manifestly distinct from the former; for there may be Elegance often, where there is no Sublimity; but it may be question'd, on the other Hand, whether every Thing sublime is not elegant. To me, indeed, it seems not so; or, if we must determine otherwise, it must be said, that Elegance join'd with Sublimity is often a different Species of Elegance. Whatever, indeed, is sublime, is beautiful. So Pallas is describ'd by the Poets, but with a Beauty peculiar to herself, awful, majestic, surrounded with an amiable Grandeur, quite different from the Charms of Venus, who is possess'd with all the soft Attractives, who is all over elegant, but very little sublime. But however this Question be determined, in the Sequel of this Discourse I shall examine into the Properties of each of these Beauties distinctly, and afterwards join'd together.
That noble and happy Sublimity of Thought, which by Longinus is termed,[151] το περι ταϛ νοησειστσ ἁδρεπηβολον, is impossible to be learn'd by Precept: 'Tis the Gift of Nature only, tho' it may be much assisted by Art. This peculiar Turn of Mind Virgil thus at once describes, and remarkably exemplifies:
[152] Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ, Quarum sacra fero, ingenti perculsus amore, Accipiant, cœlique vias & sidera monstrent, &c. Sin has ne possim naturæ accedere partes, Frigidus obstiterit circum præcordia sanguis; Rura mihi, & rigui placeant in vallibus amnes, Flumina amem, silvasque inglorius.
Me may the Muses, whose vow'd Priest I am, Smit With strong Passion for their sacred Song, Dear above all to me, accept; and teach The heav'nly Roads, the Motions of the Stars, &c. But if the colder Blood About my Heart forbid me to approach So near to Nature, may the rural Fields, And Streams obscure, which glide along the Vales, Delight me; Groves and Rivers may I love.
He shews us he is abundantly endow'd with that Strength of Imagination he pretends to want, and at the same Time gives us a Specimen of it.
The same must be said of that Fire and Energy in Poetry, which Longinus calls[153] το σφοδρον, και ενθουσιαστικον παθοϛ, viz. that it is owing to the Indulgence of Nature, and to be regulated only, not acquir'd by Precept. All we can do, is to produce some Examples of it, and make a few Observations upon them. The first shall be that of Virgil, in the sixth Æneis, where the Poet displays the sacred Rage of the Sibyl, and his own:
[154] Ventum erat ad limen; cum virgo, poscere fata Tempus, ait: Deus, ecce! Deus. Cui talia fanti Ante fores subito non vultus, non color unus, Non comptæ mansere comæ; sed pectus anhelum, Et rabie fera corda tument; majorque videri, Nec mortale sonans; afflata est numine quando Jam propiore Dei. Cessas in vota, precesque, Tros, ait, Ænea? Cessas?
And now they reach'd The Portal: When the Virgin, 'Tis the Time Now t' enquire the Doom of Fate; Behold, The God, the God, she cry'd. While thus she spoke, Before the Doors her Looks, her Colour chang'd, Sudden; her Hair in wild Confusion rose. Enthusiastic Fury heav'd her Breast, And throbbing Heart; more large her Form appear'd; Nor spoke the mortal Accents; when inspir'd By the more present God. Dost thou delay, Trojan Æneas, thy Requests, and Vows? Dost thou delay? she cry'd.
And after Æneas had ended his Supplication to her: