SECTION II.

Apostrophe.

THIS figure and the former are derived from the same principle. If, to humour a plaintive passion, we can bestow a momentary sensibility upon an inanimate object, it is not more difficult to bestow a momentary presence upon a sensible being who is absent:

Hinc Drepani me portus et illætabilis ora

Accipit. Hic, pelagi tot tempestatibus actus,
Heu! genitorem, omnis curæ casusque levamen,
Amitto Anchisen; hic me pater optime fessum
Deseris, heu! tantis nequicquam erepte periclis.
Nec vates Helenus, cum multa horrenda moneret,
Hos mihi prædixit luctus; non dira Celano.

Eneid, iii. 707.

Strike the harp in praise of Bragela, whom I left in the isle of mist, the spouse of my love. Dost thou raise thy fair face from the rock to find the sails of Cuchullin? The sea is rolling far distant, and its white foam shall deceive thee for my sails.Retire, for it is night my love, and the dark winds sigh in thy hair. Retire to the hall of my feasts, and think of the times that are past; for I will not return till the storm of war is gone. 0 Connal, speak of wars and arms, and send her from my mind for lovely with her raven-hair is the white-bosom'd daughter of Sorglan.

Speaking of Fingal absent :

Fingal, b. i.

Happy are thy people, O Fingal; thine arm shall fight their battles. Thou art the first in their dangers; the wisest in the days of their peace; thou speakest, and thy thousands obey; and armies tremble at the sound of thy steel. Happy are thy people, O Fingal.

This figure is sometimes joined with the former: things inanimate, to qualify them for listening to a passionate expostulation, are not only personified, but also conceived to be present: 241

VOL. II.

E ti fata Deûm, si mems non læva fuisset,
Impulerat ferro Argolicas fœdare latebras;
Trojaque nunc stares, Priamique arr alta maneres.

Helena.

Eneid, ii. 54.

-Poor Lord, is't I

That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event,

Of non-sparing war; And is it I

That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark

Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,

Fly with false aim: pierce the still moving air
That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord.

All's well that ends well, Aet III. Sc. 4.

And let them lift ten thousand swords, said Nathos, with a smile; the sons of car-borne Usnoth will never tremble in danger. Why dost thou roll with all thy foam, thou roaring sea of Ullin ? why do ye rustle on your dark wings, ye whistling tempests of the sky? Do ye think, ye storms, that ye keep Nathos on the coast? No; his soul detains him; children of the night! Althos, bring my father's arms, &c.

Fingal.

Whither hast thou fled, O wind, said the king of Morven ! Dost thou rustle in the chambers of the south, and pursue the shower in other lands? Why comest not thou to my sails, to the blue face of my seas? The foe is in the land of Morven, and the King is absent.

Fingal.

Hast thou left thy blue course in heaven, golden-hair'd son of the sky! The west hath opened its gates; the bed of thy repose is there. The waves gather to behold thy beauty; they lift their trembling heads; they see thee lovely in thy sleep; but they shrink away with fear. Rest in thy shadowy cave, O, Sun! and let thy return be in joy.

Fingal.

Daughter of Heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy face is pleasant. Thou comest forth in loveliness; the stars attend thy blue steps in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, Ó Moon and brighten their dark-brown sides.- Who is like thee in heaven, daughter of the night? The stars are ashamed in thy presence, and turn aside their sparkling eyes. Whither dost thou retire from thy course, when the darkness of thy countenance grows? Hast thou thy hall

like Ossian? Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from heaven? and are they who rejoiced with thee at night no more? Yes, they have fallen, fair light; and often dost thou retire to mourn. -But thou thyself shalt, one night, fail; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift their heads: they, who in thy presence, were ashamed, will rejoice.

Fingal.

This figure, like all others, requires an agitation of mind. In plain narrative, as, for example, in giving the geneology of a family, it has no good effect: Fauno Picus pater: isque parentem

Te, Saturne, refert; tu sanguinis ultimus auctor.

Eneid, vii. 43.

SECTION III.

Hyperbole.

In this figure, by which an object is magnified or diminished beyond truth, we have another effect of the foregoing principle. An object of an uncommon size, either very great of its kind or very little, strikes us with surprise; and this emotion produces a momentary conviction that the object is greater or less than it is in reality:* the same effect, precisely, attends figurative grandeur or littleness; and hence the hyperbole, which expresses that momentary conviction. A writer, taking advantage of this natural delusion, warms his description greatly by the hyperbole and the reader, even in his coolest moments, relishes the figure, being sensible that it is the operation of nature upon a glowing fancy.

It cannot have escaped observation, that a writer is commonly more successful in magnifying by a

* See Chapter VIII.

hyperbole than in diminishing. The reason is, that a minute object contracts the mind, and fetters its power of imagination; but that the mind, dilated and inflamed with a grand object, moulds objects for its gratification with great facility. Longinus, with respect to diminishing hyperbole, quotes the following ludicrous thought from a comic poet: "He was owner of a bit of ground no "larger than a Lacedemonian letter." But, for the reason now given, the hyperbole has by far the greater force in magnifying objects; of which take the following examples:

For all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed for ever. And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth; so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered.

Illa vel intactæ segetis per summa volaret
Gramina: nec teneras cursu læsisset aristas.

Eneid, vii. 808.

-Atque imo barathri ter gurgite vastos
Sorbet in abruptum fluctus, rursusque sub auras
Erigit alternos, et sidera verberat undâ.

Ibid. iii. 421.

-Horificis juxta tonant Etna ruinis,

Interdumque atram prorumpit ad æthera nubem,
Turbine fumantem piceo et candente favilla:
Attollitque globos flammarum, et sidera lambit.

Ibid. iii. 571

Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet closed,
To armour armour, lance to lance oppos'd.
Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew,
The sounding darts in iron tempests flew.
Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise;
With streaming blood the slipp'ry fields are dy'd,
And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful tide.

Iliad, iv. 508.

The following may also pass, though far stretched,

E conjungendo à temerario ardire
Estrema forza, e infaticabil lena
Vien che si impetuoso il ferro gire,
Che ne trema la terra, el ciel balena.

Gierusalem, cant. vi. st. 46.

Quintilian* is sensible that this figure is natural: "For," says he, "not contented with truth, "we naturally incline to argument or diminish be"yond it; and for that reason the hyperbole is "familiar even among the vulgar and illiterate :" and he adds, very justly, "That the hyperbole is "then proper, when the subject of itself exceeds "the common measure." From these premises, one would not expect the following inference, the only reason he can find for justifying this figure of speech, "Conceditur enim amplius dicere, quia "dici quantum est non potest: meliusque ultra "quam citra stat oratio." (We are indulged to say more than enough, because we cannot say enough; and it is better to be above than under.) In the name of wonder, why this childish reasoning, after observing that the hyperbole is founded on human nature? I could not resist this personal stroke of criticism; intended not against our author, for no human creature is exempt from error, but against the blind veneration that is paid to the ancient classic writers, without distinguishing their blemishes from their beauties.

L. VIII. cap. vi. in fin.