grow warm before there was ever such a sign in the heavens; for he tells us in this very book, that Jupiter turned Calisto into this constellation, after he had repaired the ruins that Phaeton had made in the world.

P. 93, 1. 14.—Athos and Tmolus, &c.] Ovid has here, after the way of the old poets, given us a catalogue of the mountains and rivers which were burnt. But, that I might not tire the English reader, I have left out some of them that make no figure in the description, and inverted the order of the rest according as the smoothness of my verse required.

Ibid. 1. 39.-'Twas then, they say, the swarthy Moor, &c.] This is the only Metamorphosis in all this long story, which, contrary to custom, is inserted in the middle of it. The critics may determine whether what follows it be not too great an excursion in him who proposes it as his whole design to let us know the changes of things. I dare say that if Ovid had not religiously observed the reports of the ancient mythologists, we should have seen Phaeton turned into some creature or other that hates the light of the sun; or perhaps into an eagle that still takes pleasure to gaze on it. P. 94, 1. 18.—The frighted Nile, &c.] Ovid has made a great many pleasant images towards the latter end of this story. His verses on the Nile,

Nilus in extremum fugit perterritus orbem,

Occuluitque caput quod adhuc latet: ostia septem.
Pulverulenta vacant, septem sine flumine valles,

are as noble as Virgil could have written; but then he ought not to have mentioned the channel of the sea afterwards,

Mare contrahitur, siccæque est campus Arenæ,

because the thought is too near the other. The image of the Cyclades is a very pretty one;

Quos altum texerat æquor

Existunt montes, et sparsas Cycladas augent;

but to tell us that the swans grew warm in Cäyster, -Medio volucres caluere Cäystro,

and that the dolphins durst not leap,

Nec se super æquora curvi

Tollere consuetas audent Delphines in auras,

is intolerably trivial on so great a subject as the burning of the world.

P. 94, 1. 41.-The earth at length, &c.] We have here a
speech of the Earth, which will doubtless seem very un-
natural to an English reader. It is, I believe, the boldest
prosopopaia of any in the old poets; cr if it were never so
natural, I cannot but think she speaks too much in any rea-
son for one in her condition.

ON EUROPA'S RAPE, P. 112.

P. 113, 1. 5.-The dignity of empire, &c.] This story is
prettily told, and very well brought in by those two serious
lines,

Non bene conveniunt, nec in unâ sede morantur,
Majestas et amor. Sceptri gravitate relictâ, &c.,
without which the whole fable would have appeared very
profane.

P. 114, 1. 3.-The frighted nymph looks, &c.] This con-
sternation and behaviour of Europa

Elusam designat imagine tauri
Europen: verum taurum, freta vera putares.
Ipsa videbatur terras spectare relictas,

Et comites clamare suos, tactumque vereri

Assilientis aquæ, timidasque reducere plantas,

is better described in Arachne's picture in the sixth book,
than it is here; and in the beginning of Tatius, his Clitophon
and Leucippe, than in either place. It is indeed usual
among the Latin poets (who had more art and reflection
than the Grecian) to take hold of all opportunities to de-
scribe the picture of any place or action, which they gener-
ally do better than they could the place or action itself;
because in the description of a picture you have a double
subject before you, either to describe the picture itself, or
what is represented in it.

ON THE STORIES IN THE THIRD BOOK, P. 114.

FAB. I.

There is so great a variety in the arguments of the Meta-
morphoses, that he who would treat 'em rightly, ought to be
a master of all styles, and every different way of writing.
Ovid indeed shows himself most in a familiar story, where
the chief grace is to be easy and natural; but wants neither
strength of thought nor expression, when he endeavours.

after it, in the more sublime and manly subjects of his poem. In the present fable the serpent is terribly described, and his behaviour very well imagined, the actions of both parties in the encounter are natural, and the language that represents them more strong and masculine than what we usually meet with in this poet: if there be any faults in the narration, they are these perhaps which follow.

P. 116, 1. 1.-Spire above spire, &c.] Ovid, to make his serpent more terrible, and to raise the character of his champion, has given too great a loose to his imagination, and exceeded all the bounds of probability. He tells us, that when he raised up but half his body, he overlooked a tall forest of oaks, and that his whole body was as large as that of the serpent in the skies. None but a madman would have attacked such a monster as this is described to be; nor can we have any notion of a mortal's standing against him. Virgil is not ashamed of making Æneas fly and tremble at the sight of a far less formidable foe, where he gives us the description of Polyphemus, in the third book; he knew very well that a monster was not a proper enemy for his hero to encounter: but we should certainly have seen Cadmus hewing down the Cyclops, had he fallen in Ovid's way; or if Statius's little Tydeus had been thrown on Sicily, it is probable he would not have spared one of the whole brotherhood.

Phonicas, sive illi tela parabant,

Sive fugam, sive ipse timor prohibebat utrumque,

Occupat :

Ibid. 1. 8.-In vain the Tyrians, &c.] The poet could not keep up his narration all along in the grandeur and magnificence of an heroic style: he has here sunk into the flatness of prose, where he tells us the behaviour of the Tyrians at the sight of the serpent:

Tegimen direpta leoni

Pellis erat; telum splendenti lancea ferro,

Et jaculum; teloque animus præstantior omni.

And in a few lines after, lets drop the majesty of his verse, for the sake of one of his little turns. How does he languish in that which seems a laboured line! Tristia sanguineâ lambentem vulnera lingua. And what pains does he take to express the serpent's breaking the force of the stroke, by shrinking back from it!

Sed leve vulnus erat, quia se retrahebat ab ictu,
Læsaque colla dabat retro, plagamque sedere
Cedendo fecit, nec longius ire sinebat.

P. 118, 1. 6.—And flings the future, &c.] The description of men rising out of the ground is as beautiful a passage as any in Ovid: it strikes the imagination very strongly; we see their motion in the first part of it, and their multitude in the messis virorum at last.

Ibid. 1. 11.-The breathing harvest, &c.] Messis clypeata virorum. The beauty of these words would have been greater, had only messis virorum been expressed without clypeata; for the reader's mind would have been delighted with two such different ideas compounded together, but can scarce attend to such a complete image as is made out of all three.

This way of mixing two different ideas together in one image, as it is a great surprise to the reader, is a great beauty in poetry, if there be sufficient ground for it in the nature of the thing that is described. The Latin poets are very full of it, especially the worst of them, for the more correct use it but sparingly, as, indeed, the nature of things will seldom afford a just occasion for it. When anything we describe has accidentally in it some quality that seems repugnant to its nature, or is very extraordinary and uncommon in things of that species, such a compounded image as we are now speaking of is made, by turning this quality into an epithet of what we describe. Thus Claudian, having got a hollow ball of crystal, with water in the midst of it, for his subject, takes the advantage of considering the crystal as hard, stony, precious water, and the water as soft, fluid, imperfect crystal; and thus sports off above a dozen epigrams, in setting his words and ideas at variance among one another. He has a great many beauties of this nature in him, but he gives himself up so much to this way of writing, that a man may easily know where to meet with them when he sees his subject, and often strains so hard for them that he many times makes his descriptions bombastic and unnatural. What work would he have made with Virgil's golden bough, had he been to describe it! We should certainly have seen the yellow bark, golden sprouts, radiant leaves, blooming metal, branching gold, and all the quarrels that could have been raised between words of such different natures: when we see Virgil contented with his auri frondentis; and what is the

same, though much finer expressed,-Frondescit virga metallo. This composition of different ideas is often met with in a whole sentence, where circumstances are happily reconciled that seem wholly foreign to each other; and is often found among Latin poets, (for the Greeks wanted art for it,) in their descriptions of pictures, images, dreams, apparitions, metamorphoses, and the like; where they bring together two such thwarting ideas, by making one part of their descriptions relate to the representation, and the other to the thing that is represented. Of this nature is that verse, which, perhaps, is the wittiest in Virgil, Attollens humeris famamque et fata nepotum, En. 8, where he describes Æneas carrying on his shoulders the reputation and fortunes of his posterity; which, though very odd and surprising, is plainly made out, when we consider how these disagreeing ideas are reconciled, and his posterity's fame and fate made portable by being engraven on the shield. Thus, when Ovid tells us that Pallas tore in pieces Arachne's work, where she had embroidered all the rapes that the gods had committed, he says-Rupit cælestia crimina. I shall conclude this tedious reflection with an excellent stroke of this nature, out of Mr. Montagu's Poem to the King; where he tells us how the king of France would have been celebrated by his subjects, if he had ever gained such an honourable wound as King William's at the fight of the Boyne:

His bleeding arm had furnished all their rooms,
And run for ever purple in the looms.

FAB. II.

P. 118, 1. 35.-Here Cadmus reigned.] This is a pretty solemn transition to the story of Acteon, which is all naturally told. The goddess, and her maids undressing her, are described with diverting circumstances. Acteon's flight, confusion, and griefs, are passionately represented; but it is pity the whole narration should be so carelessly closed up. Ut abesse queruntur,

Nec capere oblatæ segnem spectacula prædæ.
Vellet abesse quidem, sed adest, velletque videre,
Non etiam sentire, canum fera facta suorum.

P. 121, 1. 7.-A generous pack, &c.] I have not here troubled myself to call over Actæon's pack of dogs in rhyme : Spot and Whitefoot make but a mean figure in heroic verse,