He perfect Dancer climbs the Rope,
And balances your fear and hope:
If after some distinguish’d leap,
He drops his Pole and seems to slip;
Strait gath’ring all his active strength
He rises higher half his length.
With wonder you approve his slight,
And owe your pleasure to your fright.
C. II.
Though the two last lines seem taken from the application of this similitude in Pliny, “Sunt enim maximè mirabilia, quæ maximè inexpectata, et maximè periculosa.”
XI. Writers are, sometimes, sollicitous to conceal themselves: At others, they are fond to proclaim their Imitation. “It is when they have a mind to shew their dexterity in contending with a great original.”
You remember these lines of Milton in his Comus,
Wisdom’s self
Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair’d.
On which Dr. Warburton has the following note. “Mr. Pope has imitated this thought and (as was always his way when he imitated) improved it.
“Bear me, some Gods! oh, quickly bear me hence
To wholesome Solitude, the nurse of Sense;
Where Contemplation prunes her ruffled wings,
And the free Soul looks down to pity Kings.
“Mr. Pope has not only improved the harmony, but the sense. In Milton, Contemplation is called the Nurse; in Pope, more properly Solitude: In Milton, Wisdom is said to prune her wings; in Pope, Contemplation is said to do it, and with much greater propriety, as she is of a soaring nature, and on that account is called by Milton himself, the Cherub Contemplation.”
One sees that Mr. Pope’s view was to surpass his original; “which, it is said, was always his way when he imitated.” The meaning is, when he purposely and professedly bent himself to Imitation; for then his fine genius taught him to seize every beauty, and his wonderful judgment, to avoid every defect or impropriety, in his author. And this distinction is very material to our passing a right judgment on the merit of Imitation. It is commonly said, that their imitations fall short of their originals. And they will do so, whatever the Genius of the Imitator be, if they are formed only on a general resemblance of the thought imitated. For an Inventor comprehends his own ideas more distinctly and fully, and of course expresses his purpose better, than a casual Imitator. But the case is different, when a good writer studies the passage from which he borrows. For then he not only copies, but improves on the first idea; and thus there will frequently (as in the case of Pope) be greater merit in the Copyist, than the original.
XII. We sometimes catch an Imitation lurking “in a licentious Paraphrase.” The ground of suspicion lies in the very complacency with which a writer expatiates on a borrowed sentiment. He is usually more reserved in adorning one of his own.