SIR, AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM, IN A LETTER TO THE HONOURABLE Sr. ROBERT HOWARD. I am so many ways obliged to you and so little able to return your Favours that, like 10 those who owe too much, I can only live by getting farther into your debt. You have not only been careful of my Fortune, which was the effect of your Nobleness, but you have been solicitous. of my Reputation, which is that of your Kindness. It is not long since I gave you the trouble of perusing a Play for me, and now, instead of an Acknowledgment, I have given you a greater in the Correction of a Poem. But since you are to bear this Persecution, I will at least give you the encouragement of a Martyr, you could never suffer in a nobler cause. For I have chosen the most heroick Subject which any Poet could desire: I have taken upon me to describe the motives, the beginning, progress, and successes of a most just and necessary War; in it the care, management, and prudence of our King; the conduct and valour of a Royal Admiral and of two incomparable Generals; the invincible courage of our Captains and Seamen, and 20 three glorious Victories, the result of all. After this, I have in the Fire the most deplorable, but withal the greatest Argument that can be imagined; the destruction being so swift, so sudden, so vast and miserable, as nothing can parallel in Story. The former part of this Poem, relating to the War, is but a due expiation for my not serving my King and Country in it. All Gentlemen are almost obliged to it: and I know no reason we should give that advantage to the Commonalty of England, to be foremost in brave actions, which the noblesse of France would never suffer in their Peasants. I should not have written this but to a Person who has been ever forward to appear in all Employments, whither his Honour and Generosity have called him. The latter part of my Poem, which describes the Fire, I owe, first, to the Piety and Fatherly Affection of our Monarch to his suffering Subjects; and, in the second 30 place, to the Courage, Loyalty, and Magnanimity of the City; both which were so conspicuous that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. I have called my Poem Historical, not Epick, though both the Actions and Actors are as much Heroick as any Poem can contain. But since the Action is not properly one, nor that accomplish'd in the last successes, I have judg'd it too bold a tille for a few Stanza's, which are little more in number than a single Iliad or the longest of the Eneids. For this reason (I mean not of length, but broken action, ti'd too severely to the laws of History) I am apt to agree with those who rank Lucan rather among Historians in Verse than Epique poets; in whose room, if I am not deceived, Silius Italicus, though a worse Writer, may more justly be admitted. I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains or stanza's of four in alternate rhyme, because I have ever judg'd them more noble 40 and of greater dignity both for the Sound and Number than any other Verse in use amongst us; in which I am sure I have your approbation. The learned Languages have certainly a great advantage of us in not being tied to the slavery of any Rhyme, and were less constrained 1 in the quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with Spondaes or Dactiles, besides so many other helps of Grammatical Figures for the lengthening or abbreviation of them, than the Modern are in the close of that one Syllable, which often confines, and more often corrupts, the sense of all the rest. But in this necessity of our Rhymes, I have always found the couplet verse most easy (though not so proper for this occasion), for there the work is sooner at an end, every two lines concluding the labour of the Poet: but in Quatrains he is to carry it farther on; and not only so, but to bear along in his head the troublesome sense of four lines together. For those who write correctly in this kind must needs acknowledge that the last line of the Stanza is to be considered in the composition of the first. Neither can we give 10 ourselves the liberty of making any part of a Verse for the sake of Rhyme, or concluding with a word which is not currant English, or using the variety of Female Rhymes; all which our Fathers practised. And for the Female Rhymes, they are still in use amongst other Nations: with the Italian in every line, with the Spaniard promiscuously, with the French alternately, as those who have read the Alarique, the Pucelle, or any of their latter Poems, will agree with me. And besides this, they write in Alexandrins or Verses of six feet, such as, amongst us, is the old Translation of Homer by Chapman; All which by lengthening of their Chain makes the sphere of their activity the larger. I have dwelt too long upon the choice of my Stanza, which you may remember is much better defended in the Preface to Gondibert; and therefore I will hasten to acquaint you with my endeavours in the writing. In general I will only say I have 20 never yet seen the description of any Naval Fight in the proper terms which are used at Sea; and if there be any such in another Language, as that of Lucan in the third of his Pharsalia, yet i could not prevail myself of it in the English; the terms of Art in every Tongue bearing more of the Idiom of it than any other words. We hear, indeed, among our Poets, of the Thundring of Guns, the Smoke, the Disorder and the Slaughter; but all these are common notions. And certainly as those who, in a Logical dispute, keep in general terms, would hide a fallacy, so those who do it in any Poetical description would veil their Ignorance. Descriptas servare vices, operumque colores, For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the Sea, yet I have thought i no shame to learn : 30 and if I have made some few mistakes, 'tis only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity to correct them; the whole Poem being first written, and now sent you from a place where I have not so much as the converse of any Sea-man. Yet though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than recompens'd by the pleasure; I found myself so warm in celebrating the Praises of Military men, two such especially as the Prince and General, that it is no wonder if they inspired me with thoughts above my ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that as they are incomparably the best subject I have ever had, excepting only the Royal Family, so also that this I have written of them is much better than what I have performed on any other. I have been forc'd to help out other Arguments; but this has been bountiful to me they have been low and barren of praise, and I have exalted them and made 10 them fruitful: but here-Omnia sponte suâ reddit justissima tellus. I have had a large, a fair, and a pleasant field; so fertile, that, without my cultivating, it has given me two Harvests in a Summer, and in both oppressed the reaper. All other greatness in Subjects is only counterfeit, it will not endure the test of danger; the greatness of arms is only real: other greatness burdens a Nation with its weight, this supports it with its strength. And as it is the happiness of the Age, so is it the peculiar goodness of the best of Kings, that we may praise his Subjects without offending him: Doubtless it proceeds from a just confidence of his own Virtue, which the lustre of no other can be so great as to darken in him; for the Good or the Valiant are never safely praised under a bad or a degenerate Prince. But to return from this digression to a farther account of my Poem, I must crave leave to tell you, that, as I have endeavoured o to adorn it with noble thoughts, so much more to express those thoughts with elocution. The Composition of all Poems is or ought to be of wit; and wit in the Poet, or wit writing (if you will give me leave to use a School distinction), is no other than the faculty of imagination in the Writer; which, like a nimble Spaniel, beals over and ranges through the field of Memory, till it springs the Quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all thẻ Memory for the Species or Ideas of those things which it designs to represent. Wit written, is that which is well defin'd, the happy result of Thought, or product of Imagination. But to proceed from wit in the general notion of it to the proper wit of an Heroique or Historical Poem; I judge it chiefly to consist in the delightful imaging of Persons, Actions, Passions, or Things. 'Tis not the jerk or sting of an Epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor Antithesis (the delight of an ill-judging Audience in a Play of Rhyme), nor the gingle of a more poor Paranomasia; neither is it so much the morality of a grave Sentence, affected by Lucan, 10 but more sparingly used by Virgil; but it is some lively and apt description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets before your eyes the absent object, as perfectly and more delightfully than nature. So then, the first happiness of the Poet's Imagination is properly Invention, or finding of the thought; the second is Fancy, or the variation, deriving or moulding of that thought as the Judgment represents it proper to the subject; the third is Elocution, or the Art of clothing and adorning that thought so found and varied, in apt, significant and sounding words: The quickness of the Imagination is seen in the Invention, the fertility in the Fancy, and the accuracy in the Expression. For the two first of these, Ovid is famous amongst the poets, for the later Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, or extreamly discompos'd by one: his words 20 therefore are the least part of his care; for he pictures Nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent. This is the proper wit of Dialogue or Discourse, and, consequently, of the Drama, where all that is said is to be suppos'd the effect of sudden thought; which, though it excludes not the quickness of Wit in repartees, yet admits not a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or use of Tropes, or, in fine, anything that shows remoteness of thought, or labour, in the Writer. On the other side, Virgil speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, but in his own, he relates almost all things as from himself, and thereby gains more liberty than the other, to express his thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figuratively, and to confess as well the labour as the force of his Imagination. Though he describes his Dido well and naturally, in the violence of her 30 Passions, yet he must yield in that to the Myrrha, the Biblis, the Althea of Ovid; for as great an admirer of him as I am, I must acknowledge that, if I see not more of their souls than 1 sce of Dido's, at least I have a greater concernment for them: And that convinces me that Ovid has touched those tender strokes more delicately than Virgil could. But when Action or Persons are to be described, when any such Image is to be set before us, how bold, how masterly are the strokes of Virgil! We see the objects he represents us within their native figures, in their proper motions; but so we see them, as our own eyes could never have beheld them, so beautiful in themselves. We see the Soul of the Poet, like that universal one of which he speaks, informing and moving through all his Pictures, Totamque infusa per artus Mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet; we behold him embellishing his Images, as he makes Venus breathing 40 beauty upon her son Æneas. lumenque juventæ Purpureum, et lætos oculis afflârat honores : See his Tempest, his Funeral Sports, his Combat of Turnus and Eneas, and in his Georgicks, which I esteem the Divinest part of all his writings, the Plague, the Country, the Ballel of Bulls, the labour of the Bees, and those many other excellent Images of Nature, most of which are neither great in themselves nor have any natural ornament to bear them up: But the words wherewith he describes them are so excellent, that it might be well appli'd to him which was said 50 by Ovid, Materiam superabat opus: The very Sound of his Words has often somewhat that is connatural to the subject; and, while we read him, we sit, as in a Play, beholding the Scenes of what he represents. To perform this, he made frequent use of Tropes, which you know change the nature of a known word, by applying it to some other signification; and this is it which Horace means in his Epistle to the Pisos : Dixeris egregie, notum si callida verbum But I am sensible I have presum'd too far to entertain you with a rude discourse of that Art which you both know so well, and put into practice with so much happiness. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my Master in this Poem: I have followed him everywhere, I know not with what success, but I am 10 sure with diligence enough: My Images are many of them copied from him, and the rest are imitations of him. My Expressions also are as near as the Idioms of the two Languages would admit of in translation. And this, Sir, I have done with that boldness, for which I will stand accomptable to any of our little Criticks, who, perhaps, are not better acquainted with him than I am. Upon your first perusal of this Poem, you have taken notice of some words which I have innovated (if it be too bold for me to say refin'd) upon his Latin; which, as I offer not to introduce into English prose, so I hope they are neither improper nor altogether unelegant in Verse; and, in this, Horace will again defend me. Et nova, fictaque nuper, habebunt verba fidem, si 20 The inference is exceeding plain; for if a Roman Poet might have liberty to coin a word, Verses to Her Highness the DUTCHES on the on Her Journey afterwards into the North. MADAM, You lodg'd your Countries cares within your (The mansion where soft love should only rest :) And e're our Foes abroad were overcome, The noblest conquest you had gain'd at home. Ah, what concerns did both your Souls Your Honour gave us what your Love deni'd: you. That glorious day, which two such Navies Saw As cach, unmatch'd, might to the world give Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey, New vigour to his wearied arms you brought (So Moses was upheld while Israel fought.) While, from afar, we heard the Cannon play, 30 Like distant Thunder on a shiny day. But such a Leader could supply no more. Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. To bring them as his Slaves, to wait on you: 41 Then, as you meant to spread another way The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupid's Like Commons the Nobility resort, In crowding heaps, to fill your moving Court: As awfully as when God's People past: To welcome your approach the Vulgar run, Those, yet uncertain on whose Sails to blow, Like some new Envoy from the distant Sun, These, where the wealth of Nations ought And Country Beauties by their Lovers go, 50 to flow. 20 Blessing themselves, and wondring at the show. Then with the Duke your Highness rul'd While all the Brave did his Command obey, You brib'd to combat on the English side. An unknown succour, sent the nearest way. And now, Sir, 'tis time I should relieve you from the tedious length of this account. You have better and more profitable employment for your hours, and I wrong the Publick to detain you longer. In conclusion, I must leave my Poem to you with all its faults, which I hope to find fewer in the Printing by your emendations. I know you are not of the number of those, |