A Iust Heroic-Poem is so vast an Undertaking, requires so much both of Art and Genius for its Management, and carries such Difficulty in the Model of the whole, and Disposition of the several Parts, that it's no Wonder, if not above One or Two of the Ancients, and hardly any of the Moderns have succeeded in their Attempts of this Nature. Rapine and other Masters of Epic, represent it as an Enterprize so hardy, that it can scarce enter into the Mind of a wise Man, without affrighting him, as being the most perfect Piece of Work that Art can produce. That Author has ma­ny excellent Reflexions and Rules concerning it in his Discourse, Sur la Poetique; but Bossu is the first I've seen who has writ a just and perfect Tract thereon, wherein he has in a clear and Scholastic Method amass'd together most that's to be found in Antiquity on that Subject, tho chiefly keeping to the Observations of Aristotle, which he drew from Homer, and who seems the first that reduced Poetry to an Art. That Father defines Epic, ‘An Artificial Discourse, in order to form the Manners by Instructions, disguis'd under the Allegories of some one im­portant Action, recited in Verse, in a manner probable diverting and admirable,’ which he thus himself abridges, ‘'Tis a Fable agreeably imitated on some im­portant Action, recited in Verse in a manner that's probable and admirable:’ In which Definition are contain'd, as he afterwards explains it, the general Nature of Epic, and that double, Fable and Poem: The Matter, some one important Action probably feign'd and imitated: Its Form, Recitation or Narration: And lastly, its End, Instruction, which is aimed at in general by the Moral of the Fable; and be­sides in the particular Manners of the Persons who make the most considerable Figure in the Work.

To begin with Fable, which he makes included in the general Nature or Es­sence of Epic. This he says is the most essential Part of it; ‘That some Fables and Allegories scatter'd up and down in a Poem don't suffice to constitute Epic, if they are only the Ornaments, and not the very Foundation of it. And again, That 'tis the very Fund and principal Action that ought to be Feign'd and Alle­gorical:’ For which reason he expresly excludes hence all simple Histories, as by Name, Lucan's Pharsalia, Silius Italicus's Puni [...] War, and all true Actions of particular Persons, without Fable: And still more home; that 'tis not a Relation of the Actions of any Hero, to form the Manners by his Example, but on the con­trary, a Discourse invented to form the Manners by the Relation of some one feign'd Action, design'd to please, under the borrow'd Name of some illustrious Person, of whom Choice is made after we have fram'd the Plan of the Action which we de­sign to attribute to him.

Nor indeed is Bossu singular in his Judgment on this Matter, there being few or none who have ever writ on the same Subject, but are of the same mind: For thus Boile [...]u in his Art of Poetry,

Which his Translator I think better;

Rapine too gives his Vote on the same side, Rien n'est, says he, plus essentiel, au Poem Epique, que la Fiction; and quotes Petronius to that purpose, Per amba­ges, Deorumque ministeria praecipitandus est Liber Spiritus. Nor is't only the Mo­derns who are of this Opinion; for the Iliads are call'd in Horace, Fabula quâ Paridis, &c. And lastly, even Aristotle himself tells us, ‘That Fable is the prin­cipal thing in an Heroic Poem; and, as it were, the very Soul of it.’ [...] And upon this occasion commends Homer for lying with the best Grace of any Man in the World: Authorities almost too big to admit any Examination of their Reason, or Opposition to their Sentiments. However, I see no cause why Poetry should not be brought to the Test, as well as Divinity, or any more than the other, be believed on its own bare ipse diuit.

Let us therefore examin the Plan which they lay for a Work of this Nature, and then we may be better able to guess at those Grounds and Reasons on which they proceed.

In forming an Heroic-Poem, the first thing they tell us we ought to do, is to pitch on some Moral Truth, which we desire to enforce on our Reader, as the Foundation of the whole Work. Thus Virgil, as Bossu observes, designing to render the Ro­man People pleased and easie under the new Government of Augustus, laid down this Maxim, as the Foundation of his Divine Aeneis: ‘ That great and notable Changes of State are not accomplished but by the Order and Will of God: That those who oppose themselves against them are impious, and frequently punished as they de­serve; and that Heaven is not wanting to take that Hero always under its par­ticular Protection, whom it chuses for the Execution of such grand Designs.’ This for the Moral Truth; we must then, he says, go on to lay the general Plan of the Fiction, which, together with that Verity, makes the Fable and Soul of the Poem: And this he thinks Virgil did in this manner, ‘ The Gods save a great Prince from the Ruins of his Country, and chuse him for the Preservation of Religion, and re-establishing a more glorious Empire than his former. The Hero is made a King, and arriving at his new Country, finds both God and Men dispos'd to receive him: But a neighbouring Prince, whose Eyes Ambition and Iealousie have closed against Iustice and the Will of Heaven, opposes his Establishment, being as­sisted by another King despoil'd of his Estate for his Cruelty and Wickedness. Their Opposition, and the War on which this pious Prince is forc'd, render his Esta­blishment more just by the Right of Conquest, and more glorious by his Victory and the Death of his Enemies.’ These are his own Words, as any may see who are at the pains to consult him; nor can I help it, if either Virgil or Bossu happen to be Prophets.

When the Poet has proceeded thus far, and as Bossu calls it, dress'd his Project, he's next to search in History or receiv'd Fable, for some Hero, whose Name he may borrow for his Work, and to whom he may suit his Persons. These are Bossu's No­tions, and, indeed, very agreeable to Aristotle, who says, that Persons and Actions in this sort of Poetry must be feign'd, allegorical, and universal.

This is the Platform they lay; and let's now see if we can discover the Reasons whereon they found these Rules, being so unanimous for Fable rather than true History, as the Matter of an Heroic-Poem; and, if I mistake not, these are some of the principal.

• 1. Because they had observ'd the best Models of Heroic-Poems were laid after this manner; the greatest part of the Action both in Homer and Virgil being pure Fa­ble. Homer beginning, and all the rest following his Steps.
• [Page]2. Because no single Hero, or true History, which the Ancients knew was suf­ficient, without Fable, to furnish Matter for an Epic-Poem. History, says Aristo­tle, treats of particular Things as they really are; Poetry, as they ought to be; and therefore he prefers Poetry as the more grave and more instructive; the Poets being forc'd to follow the same Methods with their Kindred Art, that of the Pain­ters, and gather a great many Beauties together, out of 'em all, to steal one Venus.
• 3. A third Reason may be, because, supposing they should have found some one Example from whence to enforce strongly any particular Point of Morality, yet it would have miss'd those other Characters of Epic, most of its Agreeable­ness, and all its Power to raise Admiration. A chast Historian must not go about to amuse his Reader with Machines; and a Poet that would imitate him, must have been forced to thin his Stage accordingly, and disband all his glorious Train of Gods and Goddesses, which composes all that's admirable in his Work; according to that of Boileau; Chaque Virtue devient une divinitie.

And these, if I mistake not, were the main Reasons on which the fore-men­tion'd Rules were grounded. Let's now enquire into the Strength and Validity of them: To begin with Homer, he wrote in that manner, because most of the antient Eastern Learning, the Original of all others, was Mythology. But this be­ing now antiquated, I cannot think we are oblig'd superstitiously to follow his Example, any more than to make Horses speak, as he does that of Achilles. 2. If a Poet lights on any single Hero, whose true Actions and History are as important as any that Fable ever did or can produce, I see no reason why he may not as well make use of him and his Example to form the Manners and enforce any Moral Truth, as seek for one in Fable for that purpose: Nay, he can scarce fail of per­suading more strongly, because he has Truth it self; the other but the Image of Truth, especially if his History be, in the third place, of it self diverting and ad­mirable. If it has from its own Fund, and already made to his hand those Deo­rum Ministeria, which cost the Poet so much in the forming 'em out of his own Brain. Nor can we suppose Fiction it self pleases; no, 'tis the agreeable and the admirable, in the Dress of Truth; and such a Plan as this would effectually answer both the Ends of Poetry in general, delectari & monere, nay come up fuller to the End of Epic, which is agreeable Instruction; and thence it follows strongly, that a Poem wrote in such a manner, must, notwithstanding the fore-going Rules, be a true and proper Heroic-Poem, especially if adorn'd with Poetical Colours and Cir­cumstances through the whole Body thereof.

Now that all this is not gratis dictum, I think I can prove, even from most of those very Authors Ive already produc'd, as of the contrary Opinion; and that I can make it appear, Bossu goes too far in fixing Fable as the Essential Fund and Soul of the principal Action in an Epic Poem. To begin with Rapine, who has this Passage, Sur la Poetique, Reflex. 5. La Poesie Heroique, &c. ‘Heroique Poesie, ac­cording to Aristotle, is a Picture or Imitation of an Heroic Action; and the Qua­lities of the Action are, That it ought to be (among others) true, or at least, such as might pass for true:’ Thus he. And hence it follows, according to him and Aristotle, that the principal Action in Heroic, not only ought to pass for Truth, but may be really true: For Horace, he does indeed call the Iliads a Fable; but then he does not oblige his Poet superstitiously to follow Homer in every thing, own­ing that he sometimes doats as well as other Men: Further, this may, and I think does, refer rather to the Dress and Turn of the Action, than to the Bottom and Ground of his History, which there's at least as much, if not more reason to be­lieve true than false: And in the same Sense may we take Petronius and Boileau; nay, if we don't take 'em thus, I can't tell whether there were ever such a thing as a true Heroic-Poem in the World; not so much as the Fairy-Queen, Gondibert, or Orlando Furioso; all which have Fable enough in 'em of any reason; but their principal Actions might be still true, as we are sure was that of the best Heroic that ever was written; (I need not say I mean Virgil) since few or no Authors ever deny'd that there was such a Man as Aeneas, or even that he came into Italy, built Cities there, and erected a Kingdom, which Tully mentions, as a generally receiv'd [Page] Tradition in those Parts, and which it seems he thought not frivolous, but true and solid; otherwise he'd scarce have given it a place in his Argument for his Client. Of this Opinion too seems Horace himself, in his Art of Poetry, namely, That there's no necessity of the principal Action's being feign'd; for his Direction is, ‘ Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientia finge; Either follow Tradition or Fame, or else feign what's agreeable thereunto.’ He makes not feigning essential to Heroic-Action, but gives leave to follow Fame, who is not so great a Lyar, but that she is sometimes in the right. Nay, what if we should after all have Bossu himself of our side, which I'm mistaken if he be not; for these are his Expressions, Lib. 1. Cap. 7. Le Fiction, &c. ‘The Fiction may be so disguis'd under the Verity of the History, that those who are ignorant of the Art of the Poet, may be­lieve it not a Fiction; and to make the Disguisement well, he ought to search into History for the Names of some Persons, to whom such an Action has pro­bably or truly happen'd, &c.’ Hence 'tis evident, that according to Bossus own Notion, the main Action may be true; which appears even from Aristotle himself, as quoted by him, 97. [...], &c. ‘An Author is not less a Poet, because the Incidents he recites have truly happen'd; if so be that which happen'd had the appearance of Truth, and all that Art demands, and be really such as it ought to have been feign'd.’ And this Bossu himself illustrates admirably well by an ingenious Simile; ‘A Statuary, says he, first forms his Design, Posture, Altitudes which he intends for his Image; but if he then lights on any precious Ma­terial, Agate, or such like, where the Figure, the Colours, and Veins will not be accommodated to all he design'd, he regulates his design and Imagination accor­ding to his Matter; nor ought we to believe, at the same time that these singular lucky Hits condemn the Iustness of his Art.’ From all which I must leave it to the Reader, whether I ha'nt sufficiently prov'd what I've undertaken; that Fi­ction is not necessary to the principal Action of our Heroic-Poem; on which I've been something more large, not so much on my own account; for 'tis indifferent to me by what Name any Man calls my Poem, so it answers the great End of Epic, which is Instruction; but because I've heard some Persons have been so conceited as to criticise on our immortal Cowley for this very reason, and deny his Davideis the Honour of being an Heroic-Poem, because the Subject thereof is a true History.

And here I should drop the Discourse of Fable, were there not another sort of Persons still to deal with, perhaps more importunate that the former: The first will not like a Piece unless 'tis all Fable, or at least the Foundation of it: These latter run into the contrary extreme, and seem unwilling or afraid to ad­mit any thing of Fable in a Christian Poem; and as Balzak in his Critics on Heinsius his Baptista, are frighted, as at some Magical Charm, if they find but one Word there which was made use of by the old Heathens; which, says he, (unluckily as things have since happen'd) is as preposterous as to see Turks wear Hats, and French­men Turbants; the Flower-de lis in the Musselmens Colours, or the Half-Moon on the Standard of France. He's, however, it must be granted, justly angry with Tasso, as Mr. Dryden since, for setting his Angels and Devils to stave and tail at one another; Alecto and Pluto on one side, and Gabriel and Raphael o' t'other; as well as with Sannazarius, for mingling Proteus and David, and calling the Muses and Nymphs to the Labour of the Blessed Virgin. Tho the truth is, the Italian Poets seem more excusable, at least to a Papist, in this Case, than any other Nation, who parted with as little of their Idolatry as they could possible, after they had kept it as long as they were able, making the Change very easie, and turning their Pantheon into an all Saints; much like the good Fathers in the Spanish Conquest in America, who suffer the Natives to keep their Old Idols, so they'll but pay for 'em, and get 'em christen'd; by this means making many a good Saint out of a very indifferent Devil. So far, I say, Balzack is undoubtedly in the right, that Christianity and Heathenism ought not to be confounded, nor the Pagan Gods mention'd, but as such, in Christian Poems. Of which Boileau also says, ‘They should not be Fill'd with the Fictions of Idolatry;’ tho he tells us just before,

As tho he were afraid least all Poets shou'd be forc'd to turn Christians, and yet in the next Lines he thinks it full as bad;

As tho he'd have no Christian to be a Poet. And much at the same rate is Monsieur Balzak very angry with Buchanan, for the same reason,; nor will he by any means let us substitute Belzebub, Asmodeus, and Leviathan, in the room of Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera, which is, in his Opinion, perfect Pedantism and Affectation; and is extreamly affraid, least any of those Barbarous Hebrew Words should disfigure the purity of the Latin Tongue; When surely he cou'd not but know, that this pure Latin Tongue it self, for which he's so much concerned is nothing but the gradual Corruption or Barbarizing of the Greek; as that of the Phaenician and Hebrew before, and the Italian, and his own French too, from the Latin afterwards, by the adulterous mixture of 'tis hard to say how many Languages: So that between 'em, they'd make it impossible for a Christian Poet to write a good Heroic Poem, or even a Tragedy, on any, but profane Subjects; by taking away all the Machines, and therein whatever is admirable. No, says Balzak, instead of those hard Words and proper Names, Appellatives may be chosen, Words com­mon to all People: As for example, Ill luck instead of the Fates, and the Fowl-Fiend for Lucifer; and whether this wou'd not sound extreamly Heroical, I leave any Man to judg: It being besides certain, that 'tis singulars and particulars which give an Air of probability, and the main Life and Beauty to a Poem, especially of this Nature; without which it must of necessity sink and languish. However so much of Truth, I must confess, there is in what he says, that I verily believe Magor-missabib, or Mahershalalhashbaz, wou'd scarce yoke decently in one of our Pentameters, but be near as unquiet and troublesom there, as a Mount Orgueil it­self. Nor can partiality so far blind my Judgment as not to be my self almost frighted at second hearing of such a thundering Verse, as Belsamen Ashtaroth Bä­altii Ba'al: Which seems as flat Conjuration, as ⸫ Zinguebar, Oran, &c. tho 'tis now too late to mend it. But then there are other Words of a more soft and treat­able Cadence, even in the same Hebrew Language, especially when mollified by a Latin or Greek Form, or Termination; and such as these one may make use of and let others alone: tho neither is our bolder rougher Tongue so much affrighted at them, as the French and Latin.

But Boileau pushes the Objection further, and wou'd make it bear against the Things as well as Words, persuading himself,

Tho he too is short in History, how excellent soever in Poetry. For first, the Heathen Poets did not invent the Names of their Gods and Heroes, but had 'em from Eastern Tradition, and the Phaenician and Iewish Language, tho deflected and disguis'd after the Greek and other Forms, as Iosephus tells us, which the learned Bochart has proved invincibly; and I have made some Essay towards it, in my Sixth Book. Nay further, it seems plain to me, that most, even of their best Fancies and Images, as well as Names, were borrow'd from the Antient Hebrew Poetry and Divinity, as were there room for't, I cou'd I think, render more than probable, in all the most celebrated Strokes of Homer, most of the Heathen Poetical Fables, and even in Hesiod's blind Theogonia. Their Gods or Devils, which you please, were not near as antient as the Hebrews. The [Page] word Satan is as antient as Iob; nor can they shew us a Pluto within a long while of him. Ashtaroth, and Astarte, are old enough to be Grandmothers to their Isis, or Venus, and Bell, of the same standing with Idolatry. Lawful it must cer­tainly be, to use these very Heathen Gods in Christian, since they were us'd in sacred Hebrew Poetry, in due place, and in a due manner; Bel boweth down, Nebo stoop­eth, says Isaiah. And what a noble Discription has the same Prophet of the Fall of Lucifer? Nor can I see why it may not be as convenient and agreeable, as 'tis lawful to transplant 'em from Hebrew Poetry to our own, if we use 'em as they did. And then for Angels, Prophets, and Oracles, it wou'd be strange if they shou'd not strike the mind as agreeably when real and true, as the Daemons, or O­racles, or Prophets of the Heathens, form'd, as has been said, partly from mistaken fragments, or Traditions of sacred Story, partly indeed from the Juggles of the Heathen Priests, and crafty Ambitious Daemons. On the whole, we have all the advan­tages they had, and yet more than they, for Heroic Poetry in these matters. As for that Question of Boileau's, ‘What pleasure can it be to hear, the howlings of repining Lucifer:’ I think 'tis easier to answer than to find out what shew of Reason he had for asking it, or why Lucifer mayn't howl as pleasantly, as either Cerberus, or Enceladus. And let any one read but his Speech, in Milton's Para­dice, almost equall'd in Mr. Dryden's State of Innocence, and I'm mistaken if he's not of the same mind; or if he be not, and it gives him no pleasure, I dare af­firm 'tis for want of a true tast of what's really admirable.

But Boileau comes to a stronger Objection, both against the Names and use of these Daemons, by way of Machine, I mean, in Christian Poetry;

Thus has his Translator turn'd him; and taking it in that Sence, the meaning must be, that it disgraces Christianity, to mix its Mysteries with stories of Daemons, Angels, &c. But sure it can never be any disgrace, to represent it really as it is, with the frequent Intervention of those invisible and powerful Agents, both good and evil, in the Affairs of Mankind, which our Saviour has both asserted and demonstrated in his Gospel, both by Theory and Practise: Whence we learn, that there are really vast numbers of these Spirits; some tempting, or tormenting, others guarding and protecting Mortals: Nay, a subordination too among them, and that they are always vigilant, some for our Destruction, others for our Preservation, and that, as it seems, of every individual Man; and if this be true in general, I'm sure 'tis probable in particular: Nor can it be any disgrace to Christianity, to apply general Probabilities to particular Cases, or to mention these Daemons in Poetry any more than in Divinity.

But indeed the Translator has here mended Boileau's Thought, or at least made it more plausible and defensible, tho he has miss'd his Sence; for these are his Lines:

The plain English of which, I think is, ‘That the terrible Mysteries of the Chri­stian Faith, are not at all susceptible of these gayer Ornaments.’ I'll not be too Critical here, tho methinks its but an odd sort of Gayety that's to be found in Tales of Hell; agreeable, I own, the most dreadful thing may be, if well manag'd in Poetry, but he can hardly ever make 'em gay without a very strong Cata­chresis. But tho we let that pass, so must not what follows, wherein he further explains his Notion. L' Evangile, &c.

[Page] To which it may be first said, that supposing this true, and the Gospel did pre­sent nothing else, yet why mayn't Angels be us'd in it, to warn Sinners to that Repentance which we know they so much rejoyce in; or Devils, to punish and tor­ment the Guilty and Impious; as in the Case of Sceva's Son, and others. But yet further, as to the assertion it self, I know not what their Gospel offers, nor I be­lieve are they better acquainted with what ours does; but we are sure 'tis far enough from being such a dismal melancholy thing as they represent it, since Im­mortality and Life are brought to light therein. We know that it gives us the noblest Examples, the most divine Law, the strongest, yet justest Passions, the most glorious Combats, and Friendships, and Sufferings, such as neither History or Fable cou'd ever yet equal. It shews us a God really Descending, disrob'd indeed of all his more dazling and insupportable Glories, as our divine Herbert; but yet clothed with what has more of true Divinity, with Humility and Charity, and Patience, and Meekness and Innocence. Here's War, here's Love indeed; such as never was besides, or will be more. He lov'd our Dust and Clay, and even for us, single encounter'd all the Powers of Darkness, and yet more, his Almighty Father's an­ger. But I'll go no farther, least the Reader should think I forget where I am. I must return to Boileau, whose strongest Objection is yet behind; Et de vos Fi­ctions, &c.

But I hope the Critic knew, that there is a fair difference between a mere Fi­ction, or Falshood, and an instructive Parable or Fable, on one side, or a few more lively Poetical Colours on the other. To mingle Falshoods, or dull Legendary Fictions, without either Life or Soul in 'em, with our Saviour's Blessed Gospel, nay make 'em, in some Sence, superiour to it. This wou'd indeed incline an Italian to be of the same Faith with his Countryman, that 'twas all Fabula Christi, in the worst Sence of the Word: But certainly expressing the Truth in Parables, and mingling these with the Mysteries of the Gospel, can't be thought to give it an Air of Fiction: nor dare any affirm it does so, without Blasphemy, since our Saviour has so often done it. Nor only these but deeper Allegories are thought to be made use of in the Christian Religion; for Example, the Throne and Temple of God in the Revelations, and the Description of the New Ierusalem, with all its Gates and Foundations of Saphires and Emeralds, and that lovely Scheme of Trees and Rivers, worthy a Paradice: All this, I say, will scarcely be granted literal, and conse­quently must be all an Allegory; alluding partly to the Old Iewish Church and Temple, partly to Ezekiel's Visionary Representation and Prophetical Paradice. Nor can it, I think, be justly reckoned more criminal, where we have any great instructive Example, which has been real matter of Fact, to expatiate thereon; ad­ding suitable and proper Circumstances and Colours to the whole, especially when the History it self is but succinctly Related, and the Heads of things only left us. And this some great Men have thought was the Method of the Holy Pen-man himself, whoever he were, in that lovely antient Poem of Iob; which that 'twas at the bot­tom a real History, few but Atheists deny; and yet 'tis thought some Circumstan­ces might be amplified in the account we have left us, particularly the long Speeches between that Great Man and his Friends; tho the main hinges of the Relation, his Person, Character, and Losses, the malice of the Devil, the behaviour of his Wife and Friends, nay even the Substance of their Discourses, as well as of that between God and him, and the wonderful Turn of his Affairs soon after: All this might, and did, truly happen. Or, if any amplification shou'd be here deny'd, does not the Divine however every day, Paraphrase and Expatiate upon the Words of his Text, inverting their Method as he sees occasion, and yet is still thought unblamable. All the difference is, that he delivers what's probable, as only proba­ble; whereas the Nature of Poetry requires, that such probable Amplifications as these, be wrought into the main Action, in such a manner, as if they had really happen'd; and without this, a man might Ryme long enough, but n'er cou'd make a [Page] Poem, any more than this would have been one, had I begun with, Abraham begat Isaac, and so tagg'd on to the end of all the fourteen Generations, much as Nonnus has done with St. Iohn, and yet often miss'd his Sence too, as Heinsius judges.

But enough of Fable, and of those who would either reduce all Heroic Poetry unto it, or absolutely banish it thence.

Next the Fable of Epics, the Poem is to be considered; which, after Bossu, is the other part of its general Nature, and shews the manner of handling it, compre­hending Thoughts, Expressions and Verses; of which there need not much be said, since the most obvious to every Reader. The Thoughts must be clear, and just, and noble, and the Diction or Expression suited to them. The chief Difficulty, as Rapin observes, is to keep up the Sublime, which Virgil has done admirably, even in the meanest Subjects; and which Aristotle thinks may be best done by the judicious use of Metaphors. There ought to meet, according to him, Proportion in the Design, Iustness in the Thoughts, and Exactness in the Expression, to constitute an accom­plish'd Heroic Poem; and the great Art of Thought and Expression lies in this, that they be natural and proper without Meanness, and sublime without a vitious Swelling and Affectation.

The Matter is next in an Heroic Poem, which must be some one important Action; it must be important, Res gestae Regumque Ducumque, with Horace. ‘It only speaks of Kings and Princes,’ says Rapin, by which he must mean that it chiefly and princi­pally turns upon them: for both Virgil and Homer have occasion for Traitors, and Cryers, and Beggars, nay even Swinherds (in the Odysses) and yet still more, of whole Armies, which can't be all compos'd of Kings and Princes. However, the more there is of these lower Walks in the Plan of a Design, the less Heroic it must ap­pear, even in the Hands of the greatest Genius in Nature. Such a Genius, I think, was Homer's, and yet the Truth of this Assertion will be plain to any who compares his Odysses with his Iliads; where he'll find, if 'tis not for want of Judgment, in the latter a very different Air from the former, in many places much more dead and languishing, and this which I have given, seems one probable Reason on't; not excluding that of Longinus, that Homer was then grown old, and besides too much of the Work was spent in Narration; to which may be added, that he here design'd a wise and prudent rather than a brave and fighting Hero; having wrought off most of the Edg and Fury of his Youthful Spirit and Fury in Achilles, as in Ulysses he express'd more of Age and Iudgment.

This Action must be one and uniform: the Painture of one Heroic Action, says Rapin from Aristotle. It must be, as Bossu from Horace, simplex duntaxat & unum, that is, the principal Action on which the whole Work moves ought to be one, otherwise the whole will be confus'd; tho there may be many Episodic Actions without making what Aristotle calls an Episodic Poem, which is, where the Actions are not necessarily or not probably link'd to each other, and of such an irregular multiplication of Acti­ons and Incidents. Bossu instances very pleasantly in Statius's Achileid; but he tells us there's also a regular and just Multiplication, without which 'twere impossible to find matter for so large a Poem, when as before it's so ordered that the Unity of the whole is not broken, and consequently divers Incidents it has bound together are not to be accounted different Actions and Fables, but only different Parts not finish'd, or entire of one Action or Fable entire or finished: and, agreeable to this Doctrine, Rapin blames Lucan's Episodes as too far-fetch'd, over-scholastic, and consisting pure­ly of speculative Disputes on natural Causes whenever they came in his way, not be­ing link'd with the main Action, nor flowing naturally from it, nor tending to its Perfection.

And in this Action, the Poet ought, as Rapin tells us, to invert the natural Order of things, not to begin with his Hero in the Cradle, and write his Annals instead of an Epic Poem, as Statius in his Achilleid, the Reason of which seems plain, because this would look more like History than Poetry. It's more agreeable, more natural, in some Sence, to be here unnatural; to bring in, by way of Recitation or Narration, what was first in order of time, at some distance from that time when it really hap­pened, [Page] which makes the whole look unlike a dull formal Story, and gives more scope for handsome Turns and the Art of the Writer. Another Reason why a whole Life is not ordinarily a proper Subject for Epics, is, because many trivial Accidents must be therein recited; but if a Life can be found in which is nothing but what's diverting and wonderful, tending besides to the perfecting the main Action, and the Order of time revers'd in the whole, the Case would be so much altered, that I think their Rules would not hold.

For the Form of Epic, which comes next in view, 'tis agreed on all hands to be Recitation or Narration. Bossu says, the Persons are not at all to be introduced be­fore the Eyes of the Spectators, acting by themselves without the Poet; not that he'd hereby exclude the Poet from introducing the persons telling their own Story, or some one of them that of the principal Hero: for great part of Epic is thus far Dramatic. And thus Virgil manages his second and third Books by way of Recitation, and that by his Hero himself, making him give Dido a long account of the Wars of Troy, and his own Actions, tho thereby he falls into the Impropriety of commend­ing himself, with a — sum pius Aeneas. Vida takes the same way of Recitation, wherein he employs two or three of his six Books; and Milton follows them both, tho less naturally than either; for he introduces our Saviour, in his Paradise re­gain'd, repeating a great part of his own Life in Soliloquy, which way of Discourse includes, in a Wise Man especially, so much of Calmness and deep Reflection, that it seems improper for the great and noble Turn required in such a Work, unless in describing a Passion, where it may be more lively. All that they mean by not in­troducing the Parties, is not doing it as in a Tragedy: they are not to be brought in abruptly to tell their own Tale from the beginning, without the appearing Help of the Poet, as Actors in a true and proper Drama. And this Narration, says Rapin, should be simple and natural; but the greatest difficulty is, not to let its simplicity ap­pear, lest it thence grow disagreeable, and the chiefest Art in this, consists in its Transitions, and all the delicate surprising Turns, which lead the Reader from one thing to another without his thinking whither he's going, or perceiving any Breach or so much as a passage between 'em; after all, the more Action there is in Epic, still the more Life there will be. A Poet may, I find, easily fall into Poorness of Thought by aiming too much at the Probability and neglecting the Admirable; whereby he loses that agreeableness which is a mixture of both. He ought then to take more care than some have done, not to keep himself too long behind the Scenes, and trust the Narration with another, which, without a great deal of Art and Pains, will take off much of the Life of the Work, as Longinus has already formerly observed.

And here come in the Qualities of Narration, mentioned in our Definition, that it ought to be done in a manner probable, agreeable, and admirable; 'tis rendered pro­bable by its Simplicity and Singularity, and admirable by the Grandeur of the Subject, the Figures and Machines, or [...], much more lawful here than in the Drama's; and lastly agreeable, as has been said, by a mixture of b [...]th.

The last thing in our Definition, is, the End of Epic, indeed the first and principal which ought to be intended, and that's Instruction, not only, as Rapin thinks, of great Men, but of all. as in Virgil's Scheme, which we have already described; and this either by the principal Moral aim'd at in the whole, or the Manners of particu­lar Persons. Of Fable and Moral, I've already discours'd, and whether be the more lively and probable way to instruct, by that or History. But here it may be worth the while to enquire, whether the principal Hero in Epic ought to be virtuous? Bossu thinks not, the manners being formed as well by seeing Errors as Beauties in the chief Actors; but yet methinks it seems too much to form a Hero that's a perfect Alman­zor, with not one spark of Vertue, and only remarkable for his extraordinary Strength and little Brains; such was certainly Homer's Achilles, of whom I think the Father was in the right when he observes, the Poet makes him not do one brave or virtuous Action, all the while he lies before the Town: whereas Virgil's Hero, is, to tell truth, an indifferent good Heathen, and, bating one or two slips, comes up pretty well to his own good word. The same however may be said for Homer, which our [Page] present Dramatists plead for their Excuse; that he copied his Hero from those who were esteemed such in the barbarous Age in which he liv'd,

Made up of Lewdness, Love, and Fighting: who, had he liv'd in our days, would have made an excellent Town-Bully, I wish there were not too much reason to say a modish Gentleman. But tho old Homer took this way, Virgil, who writes with much more Iudgment and Exactness, and follows him in many things, here thought fit to leave him; making his Hero, as I've said, not only brave and prudent, but for the most part virtuous. Which would much better form the manners of his Reader, than if they were set to spell out Instruction from contraries, as Homer has done. Whence it follows, the more virtuous a Hero is, the better; since he more effectual­ly answers the true end of Epics. After all, Rapin says, the chief Excellency of an Heroic Poem consists in the just proportion of the Parts; that perfect Union, just Agree­ment, and admirable Relation, which the Parts of this great Work bear one towards another; and blames Tasso for mingling all the Sweetness and Delicacy of Eclogues and Lyricks, with the Force of an Heroic Poem. But I should think him mistaken here, and that this is not the meaning of Aristotles [...]. For if we allow not such a pleasing Variety, how shall we excuse even Virgil himself, who has his Dido, as well as Tasso his Armida and Erminia? nay, how shall we manage Love? which is usually one great Episode of Heroic, if not with something of Delicacy. I grant Love ought to have a different Air in different sorts of Poems; but still if it be natural it must have something of Softness; and for his Enchanted Forest, which this severe Critic also blames, I believe there's few who read that part of his Work, who would willingly have it omitted, for the sake of a fancied Regularity, any more than they would part with Mr. Dryden's Improvement on't in his King Arthur. However, if it be a fault, 'tis strange so many who have been Masters of the greatest Genius should unanimously fall into it; as Ovid in his Palace of Circe, Ari­osto in that of Alcina, and Spencer in his Acasia's Bower of Bliss, and several others, who have taken the same Method. I should therefore rather think that this beauti­ful and marvellous Analogy which Aristotle requires as the best thing in Epic, relates rather to the Harmony and Agreement of the Parts with the Whole; so that there ap­pears no Fracture or Contradiction, the different Parts, tho much unlike, yet altogether making one beautiful Figure and uniform Variety.

And thus much of the Definition of Epic, containing the main Rules thereof, by which the Reader may be able to form a Judgment of this, or any other Heroic Poem. Especially if to these Rules be added some Examples to render them more plain. In order to which I desire to express my Thoughts freely of other Poems, as I must expect every one will do of mine, always observing that piece of Iustice, never to find fault, without taking notice of some Beauty to balance it, and giving, where I can find it, the better Iudgment of other Persons as well as my own. Concluding all with a brief account of my own Work.

To begin then with Grandsire Homer, this may be added to the particular Re­marks have been already made. I think none will deny but the Disposition of his Ili­ads, is so truly admirable, so regular, and exact, that one would be apt to think he wrote his Poem by Aristotle's Rules, and not Aristotle his Rules by his Poem. I con­fess I once thought that he had been oblig'd to his Commentators for most of the Beauties they celebrated in him; but I am now, on a nearer view, so well satisfied to the contrary, that I can ne'er think his Poem writ by piece-meal, without any Connexion or Dependance: wherein Dionysius the Halicarnassian very justly praises the Order and Management of the Design, as well as the Grandeur and Magnificence of the Expression, and the sweet and passionate Movements. Nor is it without reason that Horace, Longinus, and all Antiquity have given him, as the Model of just and noble Sentiments and Expressions. I must confess there's something in his Numbers that strikes me more than even Virgil's, his Thoughts and Expressions appear stronger [Page] than his, tho it cannot be denied but that Virgil's Design is much more regular▪ Rapin says a great deal of that Prince of the Latin Poets, tho indeed he can never say enough, ‘He had an admirable Taste, says he, of what's natural, an excellent Iudgment for the Order, and an incomparable Delicacy for the Number and Harmo­ny of his Versification.’ And adds, ‘That the Design of the Poem is, if we consi­der it in all its Circumstances, the most judicious and best-laid that ever was or ever will be.’ There is indeed a prodigious Variety in Virgil, and yet the same Soul visi­ble in every Line. His own great Spirit informs his Poetical World, and like that he speaks of,

He's soft with the height of Majesty, his Marcellus, his Dido, and, I think, above all his Elegy on Pallas is very noble and tender. The joints so strong and exactly wrought, the Parts so proportionable the Thoughts and Expression so great, the Compli­ments so fine and just, that I could ne'er endure to read Statius, or any of the rest of the Antient Latins after him; with whom therefore I shan't concern my self nor trouble my Reader. Ariosto was the first of the Moderns who attempted any thing like an Heroic Poem, and has many great and beautiful Thoughts; but at the same time, 'tis true, as Balsac observes, that you can hardly tell whether he's a Christian or an Heathen, making God swear by Styx, and using all the Pagan Ornaments; his Fancy very often runs away with his Iudgment, his Action is neither one nor simple, nor can you imagine what he drives at; he has an hundred Hero's but you can't tell which he designs should be chief: Orlando indeed seems a wild Imitation of Homer's Achilles, but his Character is not bright enough to make him the Principal; and be­sides he orders it so, that he does more great Actions when he's mad than when so­ber. Agreeable to this are Rapin's thoughts of him, which, in few words, are, ‘That he's elevated and admirable in his Expressions, his Descriptions fine, but that he wants Iudgment; and speaks well, but thinks ill, and that tho the Parts are handsome enough, yet the whole Work can by no means pass for an Epic Poem, he having never seen the Rules of Aristotle;’ which he thinks Tasso had, and therefore wrote much better, whom he commends as more correct in his Design, more regular in the ordering his Fable, and more accomplish'd in all parts of his Poem than any other of the Italians, whom yet he justly blames, because he has two Hero's Godfredo and Rinaldo, of whom Godfredo seems the principal, and yet Rinaldo per­forms the greatest part of the notable Actions. He seems to imitate Agamemnon and Achilles, but then he raises his Agamemnon too high, or keeps him too low, for he hardly lets him do one great Action through the whole Work. He further criticises upon him as mingling too much Gallantry with his Poem, which, he thinks, is un­becoming the Gravity of his Subject. But whether this Censure be just, I know not, for Love and Gallantry runs through all Virgil's Aeneids, in the instances of He­len, Dido and Lavinia, and indeed it gives so great a Life to Epic, that it hardly can be agreeable without it, and I question whether ever it has been so. Nor is he more just, I think, against Tasso's Episodes, which he blames as not proper to circumstanti­ate his principal Action, not entring into the Causes and Effects thereof, but seeking too much to please, tho I think this Charge is unjust, for 'tis in his Episodes, if any where, that Tasso is admirable. I might here give several Instances, but shall, at present, only refer my Reader to that of Tancred and Erminia, and I'm mistaken if he does not dissent from Rapin in this particular. Sannazarius and Vida were the next who did any thing remarkable in Epic; they both writ in Latin on the same Sub­ject, both Christian Heroics; Rapin says they both had good a Genius for Latin the Purity of their Style being admirable, but that their ordering of the Fable has nothing in't of Delicacy, nor is the manner of their Writing proportionable to the dignity of the Subject. For Sannazarius he's indeed so faulty, that one can hardly with Pati­ence read him, the whole Structure of his imperfect Piece, de partu, being built on Heathen Fable; yet he has great and vigorous Thoughts and very Poetical Expressions, tho therein Vida far excels him, whose Thoughts are so noble, and the Air of his [Page] Stile so great, that the Elogy Balzak gives his Countryman Tasso, wou'd as well or rather better have fitted him; ‘That Virgil is the Cause; Vida is not th [...] first; and Vida, that Virgil is not alone.’ It is true, as Rapin observes, that his Fable is very simple, and perhaps so much the better, considering the Subject; tho he forgets not Poetical Ornaments, where there's occasion, if he does not lean a little to Sannazarius's Error; for he talks of the Gorgons and Sphinxes, the Centaurs and Hydra's and Chimeras, tho much more sparingly and modestly than the o­ther. He has the happiest beginning that perhaps is to be found in any Poem, and by mingling his Proposition and Invocation, has the advantage of placing one of the noblest Thoughts in the World in the first Line, without danger of falling into the absurdity of Horace's Author with his Fortunam Priami: For thus he sings,

After the Invocation, in the very beginning of the Poem, he's preparing the In­cidents for his Hero's Death; he brings him to Ierusalem at the Passover with Hosanna's; then raises his Machins, and falls to the Description of Hell. He through the whole, uses his Figures very gracefully; few have bin more happy in Compari [...]sons, more moving in Passion, succinct, yet full in Narration: Yet is he not with­out Faults; for in the second Book he brings him to his last Supper in the Gar­den, from thence before Caiaphas and Pilate; which too much precipitates the main Action: Besides, it seems harsh and improbable to bring in S. Iohn, and Ioseph, our Saviours reputed Father, as he does in the third and fourth Book, gi­ving Pilate an account of his Life; not to insist on the general Opinion, that Io­seph was not then alive. But notwithstanding these few failures, it can't be deny'd, that his Description of our Saviours Passion in the fourth Book, is incompa­rably fine; the disturbance among the Angels on that occasion; his Character of Michael, and the Virgins Lamentation under the Cross, and at the Sepulchre, are inimitable. And thus much for Vida, on whom I've been more large be­cause I've often made use of his Thoughts in this following Work; his Poem being the most complete on that Subject I've ever seen or expect to see. And here han't the English more reason to complain of Rapin, that he takes no notice of their Heroic Poems, than Lopex Viga of Tasso, for not mentioning the Spaniards at the Siege of Ierusalem: but since he has been so partial, as not to take any notice of our Writers, who sure as much deserve it as their Dubar­tas and Ronsard; We may have liberty to speak of our own, and to do 'em Ju­stice: To begin with Spencer, who I think comes the nearest Ariosto of any o­ther; he's almost as Irregular, but much more Natural and Lovely: But he's not only Irregular but Imperfect too, I mean, as to what he intended; and therefore we can't well imagine what it wou'd have been, had he liv'd to complete it. If Fable be the Essence of Epic, his Fairy Queen had certainly enough of that to give it that Name. He seems, by the account he gives of it to Sir Walter Rawleigh, to have design'd one Principal Hero King Arthur, and one main important Action bring­ing him to his Throne; but neither of these appear sufficiently distinct, or well defin'd, being both lost in the vast Seas of Matter which compose those Books which are finish'd. This however must be granted, the Design was Noble, and required such a comprehensive Genius as his, but to draw the first Scetch of it: And as the Design, so the Thoughts are also very great, the Expressions flowing natural and easie, with such a prodigious Poetical Copia as never any other must expect to enjoy. Gondibert methinks wants Life; the Style is rather stiff than Heroic, and has more of Statius than Virgil; one may see every where a great deal of Art, and Pains, and Regularity, even to a fault; nor is a Genius want­ing, but its so unnatural, that an ingenious Person may find much more pleasure in reading a worse Poet. Besides, his Stanza's often cramp the Sence, and injure many a noble Thought and Passion. But Mr. Cowley's Davideis is the Medium between both; it has Gondiberts Majesty without his stiffness, and something of Spencer's Sweetness and Variety without his Irregularity: Indeed all his Works are so admirable, that another Cowley might well be employ'd in giving them their just Elogy. His Hero is according to the antient Model, truly Poetical, a [Page] mixture of some Faults and greater Virtues. He had the advantage of both Love and Honour for his Episodes, nay; and Friendship too, and that the noblest in History. He had all the sacred History before him, and liberty to chuse where he pleased, either by Narration or Prophesie; nor has he, as far as he has gone, neglected any Advantages the Subject gave him. Its a great Loss to the World that he left the Work unfinish'd, since now he's dead, its always like to continue so. As for Milton's Paradice Lost its an Original, and indeed he seems rather a­bove the common Rules of Epic than ignorant of them. Its I'm sure a very lovely Poem, by what ever Name its call'd, and in it he has many Thoughts and Images, greater than perhaps any either in Virgil or Homer. The Founda­tion is true History, but the turn is Fable: The Action is very Important, but not uniform; for one can't tell which is the Principal in the Poem, the Wars of the Angels, or the Fall of Man, nor which is the Chief Person Michael or A­dam. Its true, the former comes in as an Episode to the latter, but it takes up too great a part thereof, because its link'd to it. His Discourse of Light is incomparable; and I think 'twas worth the while to be blind to be its Author. His Description of Adam and Eve, their Persons and Love, is almost too lively to bear reading: Not but that he has his inequalities and repititions, the latter pretty often, as have, more or less, all other Poets but Virgil. For his antique Words I'm not like to blame him whoever does: And for his blank Verse, I'm of a different mind from most others, and think they rather excuse his uncorrectness than the contraries; for I find it's easier to run into it, in that sort of Verse, than in Rhyming Works, where the Thought is oftner turned; whereas here the Fancy flows on without check or controul. As for his Paradice Regain'd, I nothing wonder that it has not near the Life of his former Poem, any more than the Odysses fell short of the Iliads. Milton, when he writ this, was grown Older, probably poorer: He had not that scope for Fable, was confin'd to a lower Walk, and draws out that in four Books which might have been well compriz'd in one: Notwithstanding all this, there are many strokes which appear truly his; as the Mustering of the Parthian Troops, the Description of Rome by the Devil to our Saviour, and seve­ral other places.

And now I've done with all the rest, I may take liberty to say something of my own.

For the Subject I dare stand by it, that 'tis fit for a better Heroic Poem than any ever was, or will be made; and that if a good Poem cou'd not be made on't, it must be either from the weakness of the Art it self, or for want of a good Artist. I don't say the Subject with all its Circumstances is the best for Epic, but considered in it self, or with a prudent choice out of the vast Field of Matter which it affords.

The Action is Important, if ever any was, being no less than the Redemption of the World, which was not accomplish'd till after our Saviours Death and Resurre­ction. The Ascension I confess shou'd be left out, according to the common Rules of Heroic Poetry, but I had not the same reason for omitting it, as others have for not coming to the End of their History, a little short of which they generally stop, because after the main Business is over, nothing great remains, or however not greater than has already past. And if any thing mean followed, the Reader wou'd leave off dissatisfied. But I've as great and remarkable an Action, as any in the whole story, yet upon my Hands, and which if I had omitted, I had lost many very moving Incidents that follow'd the Resurrection; and besides, Vida before me, has carry'd it yet further, to the actual Descent of the Holy Ghost on the Disciples, and the spreading the Christian Name all the World over; which I've done only in Prophecy.

The Action is I think uniform, because all the Episodes are part of the main Action, the Redemption of the World; to which his Incarnation, and Divine Conception were absolutely necessary, and so were his Holy Life, Doctrine, Miracles, and especially his Sufferings and Agonies. My principal Hero was perfect, yet imitable, and that both [Page] in active and contemplative Life. He leaves his own Kingdom to save and conquer another, endures the greatest hardships, is reduc'd to the lowest ebb, nay is at last forc'd to suffer Death it self. Yet after all, he emerges from his Misfortunes, con­quers all his Enemies, fixes Laws, establishes Religion, Peace, and his own Empire, and is advanced higher than any Conquerour ever was before him.

The other Persons are Heroical enough, Angels, Kings, High Priests, Governours, Councellors, nay even the Apostles themselves were more than Kings, for they were thought and call'd Gods by the People. The Moral I find not make it, in a true Ex­ample, which others are forc'd to Form in Fable; ‘That we ought to do Good, to suffer evil, submit to the Divine Will; to venture or lose a Life for a Friend; to for­give our Enemies.’

Yet further I desire to recommend the whole of the Christian Religion; all the Articles of Faith; all that System of Divinity and Morality contain'd in the Gospel of the Blessed Jesus, to the Study and Practice of Persons of Ingenuity and Reason; to make his Divine Person, which is already infinitely Amiable, if possible, actually more Ador'd and Lov'd; and to Vindicate his Mission, his Satisfaction, and his Di­vinity, against all Iews, Turks, Infidels, and Heretics; which sure are the most proper Ends that can be propos'd in a Work of this Nature: Which may be agree­ably and admirably done, if 'tis not the Poets fault; for here's all the marvellous that cou'd be wish'd for, already done to my Hand, and all sacredly True, Angels and Daemons, and Miracles, with Voices from Heaven.

Now the Subject being so fit for a good Heroic Poem, I shall have the less excuse, if this be a bad one. And here I must ingeniously confess, I had seen none of these Rules given by the Masters of Epic, when I laid the Scheme of this Poem, tho I wish I had, for I might probably then have done it better, or not at all. I knew not the hazard of the undertaking, but greedily embrac'd it, when first propos'd by some Friends, who were ignorant of what they put me upon. Being full of the Design; wherein, the earnest desire I had to see it accomplish'd, and either a lucky Chance, or the Happiness of my Subject, may perhaps in some Instances, have supply'd the want both of Rules and Genius. All I will say of my own performance is, that I now know the Faults on't, tho I am not oblig'd to point 'em out to my Reader, who will but too soon find 'em. That I wou'd have mended much that's now amiss, had I liv'd in an Age where a man might afford to be Nine or Ten Years about a Poem. And in the mean time this satisfies me, whatever is the success, that I've done all that cou'd be done by one in my Circumstances towards the rendring it more compleat and freer from Faults, and only wish that my own Reputation may suffer, by the weakness of the Work, and not the Dignity of the Subject.

I cou'd plead for my self what Longinus says on Works of this Nature, wou'd it not look like Arrogance, ‘That even the greatest Genius may sometimes sink into meanness, when the force of their Spirits is once exhausted: That its very difficult for height of Thought to sustain itself long in an equal Tenour; and that some Faults ought to be excused when there are more Beauties.’ But if none of these will pass, I hope it will not much mortifie me, since I think the World and I have no great matter to do with one another. I'm sensible my Poem wou'd have had fewer Enemies, had I left out some Passages in't. But as mean as the worst of this are, I wou'd not buy their good Word at such a rate. I had almost forgot to mention the Gravers Work, which is not without Faults, parti­cularly he has err'd in the Posture of the Disciples at the last Supper, whom he has made Sitting, when they were really Declining, or Discumbent. But its now more than time to conclude my long Preface, which I shall do in few Words. Since the chief Design in this Work, is to advance the Honour of my Hero, and next to that, the entertainment of Pious and ingenious Minds; for the truth of which, I hope I may appeal to the great [...]. I shall not be much concern'd for the success it may meet with in the World.