Upon the whole, we may draw this Conclusion, that Things of common Use or Necessity, lose all their Wonder, by their Frequency; but whatever is unusual, and beyond the Course of Nature, strikes our Attention, and calls forth our Admiration.
I before observ'd, and therefore need not insist upon it farther here, that the opposite to Sublime is Bombast and Fustian. I observ'd likewise, that the Sublime was not incompatible with the plain Style, tho' chiefly adapted to the Heroic, and produc'd Examples of both; for what I said in Relation to Style, I told you, in the Beginning of this Dissertation, was sometimes applicable to Thought. I would now add, that 'tis a great Mistake to think that the Sublime is only, or chiefly suited to Joy, Triumphs, and pompous Descriptions; for nothing has more of that Quality than those Ideas that command Pity and Terror. I shall produce one, but a very remarkable Instance of each, taken almost from the same Place. Turnus, when his Forces were defeated, and his own Death approaching, dissuades his Sister Juturna from any farther fruitless Offices of her Love, in this Heroical Complaint:
[211] ——Sed quis olympo. Demissam tantos voluit te ferre labores? An fratris miseri letum ut crudele videres? Nam quid ago? aut quæ nunc spondet fortuna salutem? Vidi oculos ante ipse meos me voce vocantem Murranum, quo non superat mihi charior alter, Oppetere ingentem, atque ingenti vulnere victum. Occidit infelix, ne nostrum dedecus Ufens Aspiceret: Teucri potiuntur corpore, & armis. Exscindine domos (id rebus defuit unum) Perpetiar? dextra nec Drancis dicta refellam? Terga dabo? & Turnum fugientem hæc terra videbit? Usque adeone mori miserum est? Vos ô mihi, Manes, Este boni; quoniam Superis aversa voluntas. Sancta ad vos anima, atque istius inscia culpæ Descendam, magnorum haud unquam indignus avorum.
But who sent you down Dispatch'd from Heav'n, and will'd you to endure Such Labours? Was it that you might behold Your most unhappy Brother's cruel Death? For now what Measures can I take? What Hope Of new Success can any Fortune shew? Before these Eyes myself Murranus saw (Than whom to me no dearer Name survives) Calling on me for Help, I saw him fall Mighty, and with a mighty Wound subdu'd. There Ufens fell, unfortunate, nor liv'd To see our Shame: The Trojan Victors keep The full Possession of his Corps and Arms. Shall I endure (that only now remains) The City to be raz'd? Nor with my Sword Refel the Taunts of Drances? Shall I shew My Back? And shall this Earth see Turnus fly? Is Death so terrible? Ye Gods of Hell, Be kind; since those of Heav'n abhor my Pray'r. To you a guiltless Ghost I will descend, Unsully'd with this Stain, nor ever prov'd Unworthy of my great Forefather's Fame.
It is impossible not to be wrapt into an Extasy, as it were, of Pity and Wonder, to behold so majestic Sorrow, and such exalted Misery. Nor less sublime is that Terror, with which the Fury possesses the Breast of the same unhappy Hero, when she is sent by Jupiter to carry the fatal Omen:
[212] Postquam acies videt Iliacas, atque agmina Turni, Alitis in parvæ subito collecta figuram, Quæ quondam in bustis, aut culminibus desertis, Nocte sedens, serum canit importuna per umbras; Hanc versa in faciem Turni se Pestis ad ora Fertque, refertque sonans, clypeumque everberat alis.
Soon as the Trojan Troops, and Turnus' Bands She sees; she changes, lessen'd, to the Shape Of a small Bird, which sitting on the Tops Of Tombs, and old deserted Tow'rs, by Night, Shrieks thro' the Shades, ill-omen'd: Thus transform'd The Fiend o'er Turnus' Visage, screaming, flies This Way, and that; and flaps upon his Shield With flutt'ring Pinions.
I appeal to every Reader, whether at these Lines his Blood does not run cold within him, whether he does not feel the same dismal Effects that Turnus did:
[213] Illi membra novus solvit formidine torpor; Arrectæque horrore comæ, & vox faucibus hæsit.
Him unusual Fear Stiff'ning benumbs; uprose his Hair erect, And to his Mouth his Speech with Horror cleav'd.