into a weak and timorous defpondeney; inclining us to submit, almost without resistance, to the incumbent affliction; or, if we ftruggle at all with it, it is only to ease the labouring heart by putting forth fome fruitless fighs and ineffectual complainings. Thus we find it represented by thofe perfect mafters of fimple nature, the Greek tragedians. So far are their forrowing perfonages from entertaining any vigorous thoughts or manly refolutions, that they conftantly languish into fad repinings at their prefent, and trembling apprehenfions of future, mifery.

When these sentiments come to express themfelves in words, what can they be but the plaineft and fimpleft which the language of the complainant furnishes? Such negligence, or more properly fuch dejection, of forrow disposes the fpeaker to take up with terms as humble as his fortune. His feeble conception is not only unapt, or unable to look out for fine words, and painted phrases; but, if chance throw them in his way, he even rejects them as trappings of another condition, and which serve only to upbraid his prefent wretchedness. The pomp of numbers, and pride of poetic expreffion, are so little his care, that it is well if he even trouble himself to obferve the ordinary exactness of mere

profe

profe [a]. And this even where the height of rank and importance of affairs conspire to elevate the mind to more state and dignity.

Et tragicus plerumque DOLET SERMONE

PEDESTRI.

Thus far the dramatic writer may inform himself by entering into his own consciousness, and obferving the fure dictates of experience. For what concerns the fuccessful application of this rule in practice, every thing, as is remarked below, [on l. 102] muft depend on the conftitution of his own mind; which yet may be much affifted by the diligent ftudy of those writers who excel most in this way: in which class all agree to give the palm to EURIPIDES.

But here it may not be improper to obviate a common mistake that feems to have arifen from the too ftrict interpretation of the poet's rule. Tragic characters, he fays, will generally exprefs their forrows in a profaic language. From this just observation, haftily confidered and compared with the abfurd practice of some writers, it hath been concluded, That what we call pure poetry, the effence of which confifts in bold figures and a lively imagery, hath no place on the stage.

[a] The reader may see a fine speech in the Cyrcpædia of Xenophon [1. iv.] where not fo much as this is obferved.

It may not be fufficient to oppose to this notion the practice of the best poets, ancient and modern; for the queftion recurs, how far that prac tice is to be juftified on the principles of good criticism and common fenfe. To come then to the reafon of the thing.

The capital rule in this matter is,
Reddere perfona-convenientia cuique.

But to do this, the fituation of the perfons and the various paffions refulting from fuch fituation, must be well confidered. Each of these has a character or turn of thinking peculiar to itself. But all agree in this property, that they occupy the whole attention of the speaker, and are perpetually offering to his mind a fet of pictures or images, fuitable to his ftate, and expreffive of it. In these the tragic character of every denomination loves to indulge; as we may fee by looking no farther than on what paffes before us in common life, where perfons, under the influence of any paffion, are more eloquent, and have a greater quickness at allufion and imagery, than at other times. So that to take from the fpeaker this privilege of representing fuch pictures or images, is so far from confulting Nature, that it is, in effect, to overlook or reject one of her plaineft leffons.

It is true, if one character is bufied in running after the images which Naturel throws in the way only of fome other, or if, in representing fuch images as are proper to the character, the imagination is taken up in tracing minute re feinblances, and amufing itself with circunftances that have no relation to the cafe in hand, then indeed the cenfure of thefe critics is well applied. It may be fine poetry, if you will, but very bad dramatic writing. But let the imagery be ever fo great or fplendid, if it be fuch only as the governing paffion loves to conceive and paint, and if it be no further dilated on, and with no greater folicitude and curiofity, than the natural working of the paffion demands, the drama is fo far from rejecting fuch poetry, that it glories in it, as what is moft effential to its true end and defign.

Ille per extentum funem mihi poffe videtur
Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit,
Inritat, mulcet, falfis terroribus implet, w
Ut magus

An office, which the dramatic poet hath no means of fuftaining but by that strong painting and forcible imagery, above defcribed.

What feems to have given a colour to the op pofite opinion, is the faulty practice which good critics have obferved in the French tragedies, and

in fome of our own that have been formed upon their model. But the cafe is mistaken. It is not the poetry of the French or English drama that deferves their cenfure, but its prolix and languid declamation, neglecting paffion for fentiment, or expreffing paffion in a calm circuit of words, and without fpirit. Even Mr. Addison's CATO, which, from being immoderately extolled, has had the ufual fate of being as immoderately undervalued, is not to be cenfured for its abundance of poetry, but for its application of it in a way that hurts the paffion. General fentiments, uncharacteristic imagery, and both drawn out in a spiritless, or, which comes to the fame thing, a too curious expreffion, are the proper faults of this drama. What the critic of just taste demands in this fine tragedy, is even more poetry, but better applied, and touched with more spirit.

this matter.

Still, perhaps, we are but on the surface of The true ground of this mistaken criticism is, The notion, that when the hero is at the crisis of his fate, he is not at liberty to ufe poetical, that is, highly figurative expreffion : but that the proper season for these things is when he has nothing else to do. Whereas the truth is just the contrary. The figures, when he is greatly agitated, come of themselves; and, fuiting the grandeur and dignity of his fituation,

are