[155] At Phœbi nondum patiens immanis in antro Bacchatur Vates, magnum si pectore possit Excussisse Deum; tanto magis ille fatigat Os rabidum, fera corda domans, fingitque premendo.
But impatient in her Grot Apollo's swelling Priestess wildly raves; Reluctant, lab'ring from her Breast to heave Th' incumbent God: So much the more he curbs Her foamy Mouth, subdues her madding Heart, And pressing forms her.
And lastly, at the End of the Sibyl's Answer:
[156] Talibus ex adyto dictis Cumæa Sibylla Horrendas canit ambages, antroque remugit, Obscuris vera involvens: ea fræna furenti Concutit, & stimulos sub pectore vertit Apollo.
Thus the Cumæan Sibyl, from her Shrine, Sings mystic Verse; and bellows in her Cave, Involving Truth in Darkness: As she foams, Apollo shakes the Reins, and goads her Breast.
This is one Species of poetic Pathos, or Enthusiasm; viz. which consists in the Marvellous, and raises Admiration, by impressing upon the Mind something great, unusual, and portentous, and is styled by the Greeks ὁρμη, by the Latins Impetus, or furor poeticus. There are other Kinds of it, which excite Grief, Pity, Terror, and work upon the other Passions. If the Spirit of the Poet is most admir'd in the former, the Reader's is at least as much affected by the latter. And since it is the great Art of Poetry to work upon the Passions, it may not be improper to dwell a little upon this Branch of it. How sweet is that Complaint of Phyllis to Demophoon, in Ovid? How wonderfully adapted to move Compassion?
[157] Credidimus blandis, quorum tibi copia, verbis; Credidimus generi, nominibusque tuis; Credidimus lacrimis: an & hæ simulare docentur? Hæ quoque habent artes; quaque jubentur, eunt. Diis quoque credidimus, quo jam tot pignora nobis? Parte satis potui qualibet inde capi.
On thy soft Speeches I with Rapture hung, The boundless Treasures of thy melting Tongue. Thy Name I credited, thy Birth, thy Line: Art thou by Falsehood Man, by Birth divine? Thy Tears resistless! do they flow by Art, Th'obedient Tides of Nature, and the Heart! These have their Frauds, and find the subtle Path, As you direct, to steal a Lover's Faith. The Gods, too, I believ'd, by whom you swore; Each Motive was too much, what needed more?
No one was a greater Master of this Secret than Ovid; none understood Nature more than he, or express'd her various Conflicts better: And he has left us abundance of Instances of it in his Epistles and Metamorphoses. To pass over others, I shall produce only that Passage where he describes the Passion of Medea for Jason:
[158] Concipit interea validos Æetias ignes: Et luctata diu, postquam ratione furorem Vincere non potuit; Frustra, Medea, repugnas, Nescio quis deus obstat, ait; mirumque, nisi hoc est, Aut aliquod certe simile huic, quod amare vocatur. Nam cur jussa patris nimium mihi dura videntur? Sunt quoque dura nimis: cur, quem modo denique vidi, Ne pereat timeo? Quæ tanti causa timoris? Execute virgineo conceptas pectore flammas, Si potes, infelix; si possem, sanior essem. Sed trahit invitam nova vis; aliudque cupido, Mens aliud suadet; video meliora, proboque, Deteriora sequor.