Tho' it is a very hard Matter to distinguish the Grand from the Noble in the Manner of Thinking, yet we shall endeavour it by the following Examples; and sure nothing can be more Grand, than the Saying of Alexander the Great, to the Greatest of his Captains Parmenio, Darius, King of Persia, having offer'd the Macedonian Monarch half Asia in Marriage with his Daughter Statira. As for me, says Parmenio, if I were Alexander, I would accept of these Offers: And so would I, reply'd that Prince, If I were Parmenio. But why should we be always dealing in Heroicks, and running back into Antiquity to borrow Example from the Conquerors of the World. Why may not we propose one in the lowest Life, which will at the same Time prove, that the Excellencies of both Thought and Expression are in Nature, and not in the Rules of Art only. A Sergeant of the Guards, What a terrible Fall is this, from Alexander the Great, to a Sergeant of the Guards! who was in the last Attack upon the Castle of Namur in King William's War, after he had fir'd his Grenades at the Enemy behind the Palisadoes, leapt over them, and had been slaughter'd, had not a French Officer prevented it. The Sergeant being a Prisoner in the Castle was sent for by the Governour Count Guiscard, and the Mareschal de Boufflers. The Latter demanding how he durst attempt to leap the Palisadoes with the Enemy behind them, when he could hardly have done it had there been none? Perhaps, Sir, I might not, reply'd the brave English Soldier, but there is nothing too difficult for me to come at my Enemy. A Saying worthy of Alexander or Cæsar, of Marlborough or Eugene.
I have seen something like these Verses of Mr. Waller's, quoted as in the grand Way of Thinking:
Great Maro could no greater Tempest feign,
When the loud Winds usurping on the Main,
For angry Juno labour'd to destroy
The hated Relicks of confounded Troy.
But the Image, as grand as it is, does not seem to be so noble as the Instances before-mentioned; there is too much Terrour in it to participate of that Kind of Thought, which is not confident with what is terrible.
I cannot help thinking there is something Grand in this Epitaph:
Underneath this Marble Hearse,
Lies the Subject of all Verse;
Sidney's Sister, Pembroke's Mother,
Death 'ere thou hast kill'd another,
Fair and learn'd, and good as she,
Time shall throw a Dart at thee.
To descend to the lower Kinds, we meet with what Father Bouhours calls Pensées Jolliées pretty Thoughts; and we have of that Kind too in English, perhaps to a greater Degree of Excellence, than is to be found in any other Language; especially those Verses in the Spectator, which are said there to be Originals, as indeed they are, and inimitable. I question whether a Poet might not as easily imitate Milton or Butler. There are ten Stanza's, and they all of a like pretty, and natural Turn with the
IIId Stanza.
The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along,
And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among;
Thou know'st little Cupid, if Phœbe was there,
'Twere Pleasure to look at, 'twere Musick to hear:
But now she is absent I walk by its Side,
And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide;
Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain,
Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain.
How the French may compare with us, as to this pretty Manner, let us see by a Comparison. Menage says, that this Triolet, as he calls it, a Sort of low Poetry where one or two Verses are repeated three Times, was the King of Triolet's, and written by the famous Mons. Ranchin: