modation of the sound to the sense, or the representation of particular images by the flow of the verse in which they are expressed. Every student has innumerable passages in which he, and perhaps he alone, discovers such resemblances; and since the attention of the present race of poetical readers seems particularly turned upon this species of elegance, I shall endeavour to examine how much these conformities have been observed by the poets, or directed by the critics, how far they can be established upon nature and reason, and on what occasions they have been practised by Milton. Homer, the father of all poetical beauty, has been particularly celebrated by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, as he that, of all the poets, exhibited the greatest variety of sound; for there are, says he, innumerable passages, in which length of time, bulk of body, extremity of passion, and stillness of repose; or in which, on the contrary, brevity, speed, and eagerness, are evidently marked out by the sound of the syllables. Thus the anguish and slow pace with which the blind Polypheme groped out with his hands the entrance of his cave, are perceived in the cadence of the verses which describe it. Κύκλωψ δε σεναχων τε και ωδίνων οδύνησι, Meantime the cyclop raging with his wound, Spreads his wide arms, and searches round and round. POPE. The critic then proceeds to show, that the efforts of Achilles struggling in his armour against the current of a river, sometimes resisting and sometimes yielding, may be perceived in the elisions of the syllables, the slow succession of the feet, and the strength of the consonants. Δεινον δ' αμφ' Αχιλήα κυκώμενον ιτατο κύμα. So oft the surge in watery mountains spread POPE. When Homer describes the crush of men dashed against a rock, he collects the most unpleasing and harsh sounds. Συν δε δυω μαρψας, ωςε σκυλακας ποτι γαιη His bloody hand Snatch'd two, unhappy! of my martial band, POPE. And when he would place before the eyes something dreadful and astonishing, he makes choice of the strongest vowels, and the letters of most difficult utterance. Τη δ' επι μεν Γογω βλοσυρωπις εσεφάνωτο Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field, POPE. It Many other examples Dionysius produces; but these will sufficiently show, that either he was fanciful, or we have lost the genuine pronunciation; for I know not whether, in any one of these instances, such similitude can be discovered. seems, indeed, probable, that the veneration with which Homer was read produced many supposititious beauties; for though it is certain that the sound of many of his verses very justly corresponds with the things expressed, yet when the force of his imagination, which gave him full possession of every object, is considered, together with the flexibility of his language, of which the syllables might be often contracted or dilated at pleasure, it will seem unlikely that such conformity should happen less frequently even without design. It is not, however, to be doubted, that Virgil, who wrote amidst the light of criticism, and who owed so much of his success to art and labour, endeavoured, among other excellences, to exhibit this similitude; nor has he been less happy in this than in the other graces of versification. This felicity of his numbers was, at the revival of learning, displayed with great elegance by Vida, in his Art of Poetry. Haud satis est illis utcunque claudere versum.— Ecce aliquis subit egregio pulcherrimus ore, Ergo ubi jam nautæ, spumas salis ære ruentes Adde moram, et pariter tecumquoque verba laborent In medio interrupta: quiérunt cum freta ponti, Nam quoque tum versus segni pariter pede languet: 'Tis not enough his verses to complete, In measure, number, or determined feet. To all, proportion'd terms he must dispense, And make the sound a picture of the sense: The correspondent words exactly frame, The look, the features, and the mien the same. With rapid feet and wings, without delay, This swiftly flies, and smoothly skims away: This blooms with youth and beauty in his face, And Venus breathes on every limb a grace; That, of rude form, his uncouth members shows, Looks horrible, and frowns with his rough brows; His monstrous tail in many a fold and wind, Voluminous and vast, curls up behind; At once the image and the lines appear Rude to the eye, and frightful to the ear. Lo! when the sailors steer the ponderous ships, And plough, with brazen beaks, the foamy deeps, Incumbent on the main that roars around, Beneath the labouring oars the waves resound: The prows wide echoing through the dark profound. If some large weight his huge arms strive to shove, Unfurl their shrouds and hoist the wide stretch'd sails. Let the lines fly precipitate away, And when the viper issues from the brake, Be quick; with stones, and brands, and fire attack When night descends, or stunn'd by numerous strokes, Stopp'd in the midst-and with the silent main (His blood congeal'd and every nerve unstrung), Weak, trembling, melancholy, stiff, and slow. |