Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews E-Book

G. Gregory

• Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 562

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews is a thorough overview of ancient Hebrew poetry. A table of contents is included.

Das E-Book Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews wird angeboten von Charles River Editors und wurde mit folgenden Begriffen kategorisiert:
talmud; jewish; judaism; israel; free

Leseprobe

LECTURES ON THE SACRED POETRY OF THE HEBREWS

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G. Gregory

WAXKEEP PUBLISHING

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This book is a work of poetry; its contents are wholly imagined.

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Copyright © 2015 by G. Gregory

TABLE OF CONTENTS

THE TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.

THE AUTHOR’S PREFACE.PREFIXED TO THE SECOND EDITION.

LECTURE I.THE INTRODUCTION.OF THE USES AND DESIGN OF POETRY.

LECTURE II.THE DESIGN AND ARRANGEMENT OF THESE LECTURES.

LECTURE III.THE HEBREW POETRY IS METRICAL.

LECTURE IV.THE ORIGIN, USE, AND CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PARABOLIC, AND ALSO OF THE SENTENTIOUS STYLE.

LECTURE V.OF THE FIGURATIVE STYLE, AND ITS DIVISIONS.

LECTURE VI.OF POETIC IMAGERY FROM THE OBJECTS OF NATURE.

LECTURE VII.OF POETIC IMAGERY FROM COMMON LIFE.

LECTURE VIII.OF POETIC IMAGERY FROM SACRED TOPICS.

LECTURE IX.OF POETIC IMAGERY FROM THE SACRED HISTORY.

LECTURE X.OF ALLEGORY.

LECTURE XI.OF THE MYSTICAL ALLEGORY.

LECTURE XII.OF THE COMPARISON.

LECTURE XIII.OF THE PROSOPOPŒIA, OR PERSONIFICATION.

LECTURE XIV.OF THE SUBLIME IN GENERAL, AND OF SUBLIMITY OF EXPRESSION IN PARTICULAR.

LECTURE XV.OF SUBLIMITY OF EXPRESSION.

LECTURE XVI.OF SUBLIMITY OF SENTIMENT.

LECTURE XVII.OF THE SUBLIME OF PASSION.

LECTURE XVIII.THE WRITINGS OF THE PROPHETS ARE IN GENERAL POETICAL.

LECTURE XIX.THE PROPHETIC POETRY IS SENTENTIOUS.

LECTURE XX.THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PROPHETIC POETRY.

LECTURE XXL.THE PECULIAR CHARACTER OF EACH OF THE PROPHETS.

LECTURE XXII.OF THE NATURE AND ORIGIN OF THE HEBREW ELEGY; AND OF THE LAMENTATIONS OF JEREMIAH.

LECTURE XXIII.OF THE REMAINING ELEGIES OF THE HEBREWS.

LECTURE XXIV.OF THE FROVERBS, OR DIDACTIC POETRY OF THE HEBREWS.

THE TWENTY-FOURTH CHAPTER OF ECCLESIASTICUS.

LECTURE XXV.OF THE HEBREW ODE IN GENERAL; AND FIRST OF THAT CLASS, THE CHARACTERISTICS OF WHICH ARE SWEETNESS AND ELEGANCE.

PSALM CXXXIII.

LECTURE XXVI. THE INTERMEDIATE OR MIXED STYLE OF THE HEBREW ODE.

PSALM XIX.

LECTURE XXVII.OF THE SUBLIME STYLE OF THE HEBREW ODE.

PSALM XXIX.

LECTURE XXVIII.THE SUBLIME STYLE OF THE HEBREW ODE.

ON THE FATE OF TYRANNY, ISAIAH XIV.

LECTURE XXIX.OF THE IDYLLIUM OF THE HEBREWS.

PSALM CXXXIX.

LECTURE XXX.THE SONG OF SOLOMON NOT A REGULAR DRAMA.

LECTURE XXXI.OF THE SUBJECT AND STYLE OF SOLOMON׳S SONG.

LECTURE XXXII.OF THE POEM OF JOB.

LECTURE XXXIII.THE POEM OF JOB NOT A PERFECT DRAMA.

LECTURE XXXIV.OF THE MANNERS, SENTIMENTS, AND STYLE OF THE POEM OF JOB.

A BRIEF CONFUTATION OR BISHOP HARE’S SYSTEM OF HEBREW METRE.

PSALM CXI.

APPENDIX

Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews

By G. Gregory

THE TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.

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IT MAY NOT BE IMPROPER to apprize the Public, that although the following Lectures be entitled Lectures on the Hebrew Poetry, their utility is by no means confined to that single object: They embrace all the great principles of general criticism, as delivered by the ancients, improved by the keen judgment and polished taste of their Author. In other words, this work will be found an excellent compendium of all the best rules of taste, and of all the principles of composition, illustrated by the boldest and most exalted specimens of genius (if no higher title be allowed them) which antiquity has transmitted to us; and which have hitherto seldom fallen under the inspection of rational criticism.

Lest, from the title of the work, or from the circumstance of being originally published in a learned language, a prejudice should arise in the breast of any individual that these Lectures are addressed only to the learned, I think it a duty to anticipate a misapprehension which might interfere both with his entertainment and instruction. The greatest as well as the most useful works of taste and literature, are those which, with respect at least to their general scope and design, lie most level to the common sense of mankind. Though the learning and genius displayed in the following Lectures must ever excite our warmest admiration; though they abound in curious researches, and in refined and exquisite observations; though the splendour of the sentiments and the elegance of the style will necessarily captivate the eye and the ear of the classical reader; the truth is, that they are more calculated for persons of taste and general reading, than for what iscommonly termed the learned world. Here are few nice philological disquisitions, no abstruse metaphysical speculations; our Author has built solely upon the basis of common sense, and I know no part of his work which will not be intelligible and useful to almost every understanding.

A still greater mistake it would be, to suppose any knowledge of the Hebrew necessary to enable us to read these Lectures with profit and pleasure. So happily does the simple genius of the Hebrew language accord with our own; and so excellent a transcript of the original (notwithstanding a few errors) is our common translation of the Scriptures; so completely, so minutely, I might say, does it represent the style and character of the Hebrew writings, that no person who is conversant with it can be at all at a loss in applying all the criticisms of our Author. On this account I will venture to assert, that if the genius of the Translator approached in any degree the clearness, the elegance, the elevation of the Author, these Lectures in our own language would exhibit the subject in a much fairer and more advantageous light than in the original form. The English idiom, indeed, has so much greater analogy to the Hebrew, that the advantages which it possesses over the Latin must be obvious to any reader who compares the literal translations in each of these languages.

But the utility of these Lectures as a system of criticism, is perhaps their smallest merit. They teach us not only taste, but virtue; not only to admire and revere the Scriptures, but to profit by their precepts. The Author of the present work is not to be considered merely as a master of the general principles of criticism—he has penetrated the very sanctuaries of Hebrew literature; he has investigated, with a degree of precision which few critics have attained, the very nature and character of their composition: by accurately examining, and cautiously comparing every part of the sacred writings; by a force of genius which could enter into the very design of the authors; and by a comprehensiveness of mind which could embrace at a single view a vast series of corresponding passages—he has discovered the manner, the spirit, the idiom of the original, and has laid down such axioms as cannot fail greatly to facilitate our knowledge and understanding of the Scriptures. The work would amply repay the trouble of perusing it, by the excellent elucidations of particular passages of holy writ which it affords; but when we reflect, that these are connected with such rules and principles as may be applied with the greatest advantage to other difficult passages—with such rules, indeed, as will enable us better to comprehend the whole, surely it must appear inestimable in the eye of any man who has at all at heart his own improvement in religious knowledge. Perhaps the sceptic may learn from the perusal of these Lectures, that the difficulties of which he complains in the Scriptures, are difficulties which might in some measure be removed by a little more knowledge, and a little more diligence in the application of it. Perhaps, too, those profound and learned critics, who quote and censure authors whom they have never read, and talk fluently about languages the rudiments of which they have yet to learn, may find, to their great astonishment, that a degree of penetration superior to their own is able to discover at least a few rays of sublimity in the writings of the Hebrews.

Whatever be the merits or the defects of this Translation, on one account at least I will venture to promise myself the warmest commendations of my readers, namely, for having made them acquainted with the admirable criticisms of the learned Michaelis. I have much reason to regret that the nature of this publication would not permit the insertion of all his observations, and at full length. But the truth is, however suitable they may have been to the work in its original form, some of his remarks are too refined to be generally useful, and some of them too learned to be intelligible to any but those who are familiar with the whole circle of oriental literature. I have therefore selected such of them as I thought applicable to my present purpose: and as it was my wish to confine this work within as narrow limits as my duty to the public would permit, and to suffer in it nothing but what I esteemed immediately useful, I have taken the liberty of abridging some which I thought, in a literal translation, might appear tedious to the English reader.

Some observations of my own I have also presumed to introduce among the Notes. They were such as to me seemed calculated to render the work a more complete compendium of critical science. As I do not, however, think myself above censure, so I trust I shall not be found too obstinate for correction. Should my indiscretion, therefore, have obtruded anything which a fair and liberal critic shall deem impertinent or improper, I shall with much cheerfulness, in a future edition, submit to its erasement.

It was not till I had consulted some of the first literary characters concerning the propriety of substituting in the place of our Author’s inimitable Latin poems any English versions, that I ventured to appear as a poetical translator. Even then I did not fail to inspect every modern author, who I imagined might furnish me with compositions worthy of appearing among the criticisms of Lowth. I have preferred Mr Merrick’s Psalms to any version which I should have been able to produce, (except indeed in a single instance, where it was necessary that, the measure should be elegiac), not only on account of their intrinsic merit, but in consequence of the commendation which our Author has bestowed upon them. By the kindness of Mr Mason also, this publication is enriched with one of the most beautiful lyric productions in our language, I mean his Paraphrase of the 14th of Isaiah. When I could find no translation to answer my purpose, I was obliged to attempt the versification of the passages myself. The public will therefore recollect, that I was a poet through necessity, not choice; and will, I flatter myself, receive this as a sufficient apology for the indifferent performance of that part of my undertaking.

Presuming that it would be more agreeable to give the literal translations of the Hebrew from works of established reputation, I have taken many of them from our Author’s excellent version of Isaiah, from Mr Blaney’s Jeremiah, from Bishop Newcombe’s Minor Prophets, Mr Heath’s Job, and from Dr Hodgson’s translation of the Canticles: and this I trust will be accepted by those Gentlemen as a general acknowledgment. Where these did not furnish me with a translation, I have endeavoured myself to produce one as faithful to the original as my knowledge of the language would admit.

Convinced, on the whole, of the utility of this publication, and yet aware of my own inability to do it justice, I dismiss it with that mixed emotion of confidence’ and humility which such a situation naturally inspires. Imperfect as it appears before the world, if it be the means of imparting to but a few some of that information which all who read the original must regret was not more generally diffused, I am sure I shall have deserved well of the community: at the same time, the reader will do me great injustice if he supposes that I have satisfied myself in the execution of my task. Whatever be its reception, it will disappoint no expectations formed by me of profit or of fame; and if neither ensue from it, I shall have no just cause of complaint. It was impossible to read these Lectures with the attention which even this translation required, and not derive advantages from them far superior to the labour they have cost me; and, whatever may be their effect with others, I am confident they have left me something wiser, and I trust something better, than they found me.

In the prosecution of this work I have incurred a debt of gratitude, which, if I cannot discharge, it is but fair to acknowledge. By the advice and encouragement of Dr Kippis, I was in a great measure induced to undertake this translation; by a continuance of the same friendly disposition, I was enabled cheerfully to proceed in it. The public will easily perceive a part of their obligation and mine to the ingenious Mr Henley, of Rendlesham, in the numerous and valuable notes which bear his signature; but I am also indebted to him for many corrections. These are not the only friends to whom I have been obliged on this occasion: I will venture to mention in particular Mr Wakefield of Nottingham, a name sufficiently known in the classical world; and Mr Foster of Woolton, near Liverpool, whose careful and laborious revision of my manuscript is the least of the many favours he has conferred upon me. To this companion of my youth I can indeed, with the strictest propriety, apply the language of the Roman poet,—

“ Tecum etenim longos nemini consumere soles,

Et tecum primas epulis decerpere noctes.

Unum opus, et requiem pariter disponimus ambo:

Atque verecunda laxamus seria mensa.

Non equidem hoc dubites, amborum fœdere certo

Consentire dies et ab uno sidere duci.

Nostra vel aequali suspendit tempora libra

Parca tenax veri: sen nata fidelibus hora

Dividit in geminos concordia fata duorum:

Saturnumque gravem nostro Jove frangimus una.

Nescio, quod certe est, quod me tibi temperat astrum.”

THE AUTHOR’S PREFACE.PREFIXED TO THE SECOND EDITION.

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I SHALL ENDEAVOUR, IN A few words, to explain the additions and improvements which have been made to this Edition.

I have revised the whole work; I have added some things— I have corrected many; and especially in the Notes. I have, however, refrained from all corrections which did not appear absolutely necessary. If any reader should object, that many passages remain which might be amended, as being scarcely established upon the grounds of certainty and conviction; I have only to urge in my own defence, that, on very obscure and difficult subjects, it has always appeared to me sufficient to propose a probable explication; nor can I esteem that to be correction, which only substitutes one conjecture for another.

In other respects this Edition has received considerable improvements. In the first place, I am greatly indebted to the friendly communications of the learned Dr Kennicott, for the variations of the different copies in several passages of the Old Testament which I have quoted. I have distinguished his notes by inverted commas, and by the letter K. subjoined. The manuscripts are numbered according to the catalogue annexed to that learned author’s Dissertation on the Hebrew Text. I have, moreover, added some observations of the learned Dr Hunt, Professor of the Hebrew and Arabic languages, which he kindly communicated at my request. These, also, I have distinguished by inverted commas, and the letter H. subjoined.

After this edition was committed to the press, I was favoured with a sight of the Gottingen edition, published under the inspection of the learned and ingenious Professor of Philosophy in that University, John David Michaelis, and greatly improved and illustrated by him. To this were added his Notes and additions, in which he has with great candour supplied my defects, and corrected my errors. These, with the Preface entire, and with a few additions to the Notes, communicated to me by the author, (who would have added more, but that he was prevented by the increasing business of the University), I have printed in a separate volume, lest my readers should be deprived of these very learned and excellent illustrations: and I chose to do it in a separate state, that the purchasers of the First Edition might partake equally of the benefit. Whatever some of these Notes may contain repugnant to my own sentiments, I have thought it better to submit them in this form to the judgment of the reader, than, by retracing my former ground, to divert his attention into a controversy, unpleasant, and probably fruitless.

LECTURES ON THE SACRED POETRY OF THE HEBREWS.

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LECTURE I.THE INTRODUCTION.OF THE USES AND DESIGN OF POETRY.

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THE PURPOSE OF POETRY IS to instruct while it gives pleasure; instruction being the end, and pleasure the means—Illustrated by examples from the different species of Poetry— The Didactic— The Epic— Tragic—Lyric—the lighter kinds of Poetry, which are calculated as well for the amusement of our leisure, as for the ornament and improvement of literature— Sacred Poetry; whence a transition to the immediate object of these Lectures.

Though our present meeting be, on some accounts, rather earlier than I could have wished, yet I cheerfully embrace the opportunity which it affords me of assuring you, Gentlemen, that to this undertaking (whether considered as a duty imposed, or as a favour conferred upon me) I bring, if no other accomplishment, at least industry and inclination. I could, indeed, more patiently bear to be accused of wanting genius, fluency, or elegance, than of wanting diligence in the exercise of that office to which your authority has called me, or gratitude in the acceptance of that favour, which (whatever it be in itself) is undoubtedly great, since conferred on me by you. For to judge rightly of obligations of this kind, regard must be had not only to the favour itself, but to the persons who confer it, and to the person on whom it is conferred. When, therefore, I reflect, that the station to which I am invited, has been adorned by men of the first rank in genius and learning; when I regard you, whose favour can add dignity to the most respectable characters; when, in fine, I consider myself, who could never have expected or hoped from my own merits for any public testimony of your approbation; I receive this appointment as an honour, for which the utmost exertions of labour and assiduity will be but a very inadequate return. This part of my duty, however, though feebly and imperfectly, I would wish you to believe I most willingly perform: for to an ingenuous mind nothing can be more agreeable than the expression, or even the sense of gratitude; and the remembrance of the obligation will rather stimulate than depress. Other considerations have, I must confess, rendered me not a little solicitous: I am appointed to superintend a particular department of science, which you have constantly distinguished by your presence and attention; and a subject is to be discussed, which not only you have judged worthy of your cultivation, and the public countenance of the University, but which has hitherto received in this place all the embellishments of grace and elegance of which it is naturally susceptible. Should it, therefore, fall into neglect or disrepute hereafter, I fear that I shall be compelled to acknowledge the fault to have been mine, and not that of the institution itself.

Whatever degree of success, indeed, may attend my endeavours, let it not for a moment be suspected, that the design is not altogether deserving of approbation. For, can there be any thing of more real importance to literature itself, can anything be more consistent with the ends for which this University was founded, than that the art, of whose assistance every other art and profession has so greatly availed itself, should be assigned a place among the rest ?— that art, so venerable for its antiquity, so delightful in itself —that art, which is in a manner congenial to humanity, and which sets off Nature by the most agreeable representation of her beauties; which, among the ignorant and the learned, the idle and the studious, has ever obtained favour, admiration, and regard. Nothing surely can be more worthy of a liberal and accomplished mind, than to perceive what is perfect and what is defective in an art, the beauties of which frequently lie beneath the surface; to understand what is graceful, what is becoming, in what its excellencies consist; and, in a word, to discover and relish those delicate touches of grace and elegance that lie beyond the reach of vulgar apprehension. From these subtile researches after beauty and taste, there is also the fairest reason to apprehend that the judgment itself will receive some accessions of strength and acuteness, which it may successfully employ upon other objects, and upon other occasions. Such at least appear to have been the sentiments of that excellent person, to whose munificence Poetry has been long indebted for her admission into the circle of those sciences which are cultivated in this University. For, possessing a mind not only instructed in the most useful branches of knowledge, but adorned with the most elegant arts; and having imbibed the first principles of education in a seminary where the most important and sacred subjects, recommended by all the elegance of polite literature, have been heretofore, and still continue to be, studied with vigour and effect; he saw and experienced how much an attention to these elegancies would contribute to the investigation or illustration of the severer branches of erudition, and how strict the alliance between Philosophy and the Muses.

The design, therefore, of the author of this institution, as well as the usual practice on occasions like the present, reminds me, Gentlemen, of the propriety (though a matter already familiar to most of you) of premising a few such observations as appear least exceptionable concerning the end and utility of the poetic art.

Poetry is commonly understood to have two objects in view, namely, advantage and pleasure, or rather an union of both. I wish those who have furnished us with this definition had rather proposed utility as its ultimate object, and pleasure as the means by which that end may be effectually accomplished. The philosopher and the poet, indeed, seem principally to differ in the means by which they pursue the same end. Each sustains the character of a preceptor, which the one is thought best to support, if he teach with accuracy, with subtlety, and with perspicuity; the other, with splendour, harmony, and elegance. The one makes his appeal to reason only, independent of the passions; the other addresses the reason in such a manner as even to engage the passions on his side. The one proceeds to virtue and truth by the nearest and most compendious ways; the other leads to the same point through certain deflections and deviations, by a winding but pleasanter path. It is the part of the former so to describe and explain these objects, that we must necessarily become acquainted with them; it is the part of the latter so to dress and adorn them, that of our own accord we must love and embrace them.

I therefore lay it down as a fundamental maxim, that. Poetry is useful, chiefly because it is agreeable; and should I, as we are apt to do, attribute too much to my favourite occupation, I trust Philosophy will forgive me when I add, that the writings of the poet are more useful than those of the philosopher, inasmuch as they are more agreeable. To illustrate this position by well-known examples:—Can it be supposed that the more learned Romans, when they became devoted to the doctrine of Epicurus, did not more highly esteem, and more frequently apply to the admirable poem of Lucretius, than to Catius, or Amafanius, or even the Commentaries of Epicurus himself? Who can believe that even the most tasteless could peruse the writings on agriculture, either of the learned Varro or (not to mention the elder Cato) of Columella, an author by no means deficient in elegance, with the same pleasure and attention as that most delightful and most perfect work, the Georgics of Virgil ? a work in which he has equalled the most respectable writers in the solidity of his matter, and has greatly excelled the most elegant in the incredible harmony of his numbers. On the contrary, if Manilius, who is numbered (and rightly, if we may credit his own testimony) among the writers of the Augustan age, has treated the engaging science of astronomy in such low and inelegant verse as even scarcely to excel Julius Firmicus, a prose writer on the same subject in a less polished age, I will allow him the merit of a philosopher and astronomer, but never can account him a poet. For, what is a poet, destitute of harmony, of grace, and of all that conduces to allurement and delight ? or how should we derive advantage or improvement from an author whom no man of taste can endure to read ? The reason, therefore, why Poetry is so studious to embellish her precepts with a certain inviting sweetness, and, as it were,

—” tincture them with the honey of the Muses,” is plainly by such seasoning to conciliate favour to her doctrine, as is the practice of even physicians, who temper with pleasant flavours their least agreeable medicines :

“ Thus, the sick infant’s taste disguis’d to meet,

They tinge the vessel’s brim with juices sweet;

The bitter draught his willing lip receives;

He drinks deceiv’d, and so deceiv’d he lives ;”

as Lucretius expresses himself in illustration of his own design, as well as that of poetry in general.

But if it be manifest, even in authors who directly profess improvement and advantage, that those will most efficaciously instruct who afford most entertainment; the same will be still more apparent in those who, dissembling the intention of instruction, exhibit only the blandishments of pleasure; and while they treat of the most important things, of all the principles of moral action, all the offices of life, yet laying aside the severity of the preceptor, adduce at once all the decorations of elegance, and all the attractions of amusement: who display, as in a picture, the actions, the manners, the pursuits and passions of men; and by the force of imitation and fancy, by the harmony of numbers, by the taste and variety of imagery, captivate the affections of the reader, and imperceptibly, or perhaps reluctantly, impel him to the pursuit of virtue. Such is the real purpose of heroic poetry; such is the noble effect produced by the perusal of Homer. And who so thoughtless, or so callous, as not to feel incredible pleasure in that most agreeable occupation ? who is not moved, astonished, enraptured, by the inspiration of that most sublime genius? who so inanimate as not to see, not to feel inscribed, or as it were imprinted upon his heart, his most excellent maxims concerning human life and manners ? From philosophy a few cold precepts may be deduced; in history, some dull and spiritless examples of manners may be found: here we have the energetic voice of Virtue herself, here we behold her animated form. Poetry addresses her precepts not to the reason alone; she calls the passions to her aid: she not only exhibits examples, but infixes them in the mind. She softens the wax with her peculiar ardour, and renders it more plastic to the artist’s hand. Thus does Horace most truly and most justly apply this commendation to the poets:

“ What’s fair, and false, and right, these bards describe,

Better and plainer than the Stoic tribe:"—

Plainer or more completely, because they do not perplex their disciples with the dry detail of parts and definitions, but so perfectly and so accurately delineate, by examples of every kind, the forms of the human passions and habits, the principles of social and civilized life, that he who from the schools of philosophy should turn to the representations of Homer, would feel himself transported from a narrow and intricate path to an extensive and flourishing field :—Better, because the poet teaches not by maxims and precepts, and in the dull sententious form; but by the harmony of verse, by the beauty of imagery, by the ingenuity of the fable, by the exactness of imitation, he allures and interests the mind of the reader, he fashions it to habits of virtue, and in a manner informs it with the spirit of integrity itself.

But if from the Heroic we turn to the Tragic Muse, to which Aristotle indeed assigns the preference, because of the true and perfect imitation, we shall yet more clearly evince the superiority of poetry over philosophy, on the principle of its being more agreeable. Tragedy is, in truth, no other than philosophy introduced upon the stage, retaining all its natural properties, remitting nothing of its native, gravity, but assisted and embellished by other favouring circumstances. What point, for instance, of moral discipline have the tragic writers of Greece left untouched or unadorned ? What duty of life, what principle of political economy, what motive or precept for the government of the passions, what commendation of virtue is there, which they have not treated of with fulness, variety, and learning ? The moral of Æschylus (not only a poet, but a Pythagorean) will ever be admired. Nor were Sophocles and Euripides less illustrious for the reputation of wisdom; the latter of whom was the disciple of Socrates and Anaxagoras, and was known among his friends by the title of the dramatic philosopher. In these authors, surely, the allurements of poetry afforded some accession to the empire of philosophy; nor indeed has any man arrived ‘at the summit of poetic fame, who did not previously lay the foundation of his art in true philosophy.

Should it be objected, that some have been eminent in this walk of poetry, who never studied in the schools of the philosophers, nor enjoyed the advantages of an education above the common herd of mankind; I answer, that I am not contending about the vulgar opinion, or concerning the meaning of a word: The man who, by the force of genius and observation, has arrived at a perfect knowledge of mankind; who has acquainted himself with the natural powers of the human mind, and the causes by which the passions are excited and repressed; who not only in words can explain, but can delineate to the senses, every emotion of the soul; who can excite, can temper and regulate the passions—such a man, though he may not have acquired erudition by the common methods, I esteem a true philosopher. The passion of jealousy, its causes, circumstances, its progress and effects, I hold to be more accurately, more copiously, more satisfactorily described in one of the dramas of Shakspeare, than in all the disputations of the schools of philosophy.

Now, if Tragedy be of so truly a philosophical nature; and if, to all the force and gravity of wisdom, it add graces and allurements peculiarly its own—the harmony of verse, the contrivance of the fable, the excellence of imitation, the truth of action; shall we not say that philosophy must yield to poetry in point of utility ? or shall we not rather say, that the former is greatly indebted to the latter, of whose assistance and recommendation it makes so advantageous a use, in order to attain its particular purpose, utility, or improvement?

“ But if the force of imitation and fable be so great, the force of truth itself must surely appear much greater: we should therefore apply to history rather than to poetry, for instruction in morals.” This, however, is a mistaken notion. History is confined within too narrow limits; history is subject to laws peculiar to itself, and too severe to admit of such an application. It relates things as they really were, it traces events under the guidance of authority; it must exhibit what has happened, not what might or ought to have happened. It must not deviate in quest of reasonable instruction or plausible conjecture, but confine itself to that path which the stubbornness of fact has prescribed. History treats of things and persons which have been in actual existence; the subjects of poetry are infinite and universal. The one investigates causes through the uncertain medium of conjecture; the other demonstrates them with clearness and certainty. The one catches the casual glimpses of truth, whenever they break forth to the view; the other contemplates her unclouded appearance. History pursues her appointed journey by a direct path; poetry ranges uncontrolled over the wide expanse of nature. The former must make her precepts subservient to the subject; the latter forms a subject subordinate to her precepts and design. For these reasons poetry is defined by Aristotle to be something of a more serious and philosophical nature than history: nor is our Bacon (a name not inferior in literature) of a different sentiment. The subject itself, and the authority of so great a man, require that the passage should be quoted in his own words. “ Since the sensible world is in dignity inferior to the rational soul, poetry seems to endow human nature with that which lies beyond the power of history, and to gratify the mind with at least the shadow of things where the substance cannot be had. For, if the matter be properly considered, an argument may be drawn from poetry, that a superior dignity in things, a more perfect order, and a more beautiful variety delights the soul of man, than is found in nature since the fall. As, therefore, the actions and events which are the subject of true history, are not of sufficient amplitude to content the mind of man; poetry is at hand, and invents actions of a more heroic nature. Because true history reports the success of events not proportionably to desert, or according to the virtue or vice that has been displayed in them; poetry corrects this, and represents events and fortunes according to justice and merit: Because true history, from the obvious similarity of actions, and the satiety which this circumstance must occasion, frequently creates a distaste in the mind; poetry cheers and refreshes it, exhibiting things uncommon, varied, and full of vicissitude. As poetry, therefore, contributes not only to pleasure, but to magnanimity and good morals, it is deservedly supposed to participate in some measure of divine inspiration; since it raises the mind, and fills it with sublime ideas, by proportioning the appearances of things to the desires of the mind, and not submitting the mind to things, like reason and history.”

That elevation of sentiment, that inspiration, that usefulness in forming the manners, is, however, by no means so peculiar to the Epic, (to which that great man chiefly refers in this passage), as to exclude the claim of every other species of poetry: there are others which also deserve to partake in the commendation; and first the Ode,

“ With thoughts that breathe, and words that burn ;”

which, though in some respects inferior to what are called the higher species of poetry, yields to none in force, ardour, and sometimes even in dignity and solemnity. Every species of poetry has in fact its peculiar mode of acting on the human feelings; the general effect is perhaps the same. The epic accomplishes its design with more leisure, with more consideration and care, and therefore probably with greater certainty. It more gradually insinuates itself—it penetrates, it moves, it delights; now rising to a high degree of sublimity, now subsiding to its accustomed smoothness; and, conducting the reader through a varied and delightful scene, it applies a gentle constraint to the mind, making its impression by the forcible nature of this application, but more especially by its continuance. The ode, on the contrary, strikes with an instantaneous effect, amazes, and as it were storms the affections. The one may be compared to a flame, which, fanned by the winds, gradually spreads itself on all sides, and at last involves every object in the conflagration; the other to a flash of lightning, which instantaneously bursts forth,

“ With instant ruin threats great nature’s frame,

And shoots thro’ every part the vivid flame.”

The amazing power of Lyric poetry, in directing the passions, in forming the manners, in maintaining civil life, and particularly in exciting and cherishing that generous elevation of sentiment on which the very existence of public virtue seems to depend, will be sufficiently apparent by only contemplating those monuments of genius which Greece has bequeathed to posterity. If we examine the poems of Pindar, (which though by no means accounted the most excellent of their kind, by some strange fatality are almost the only specimens that remain), how exquisite must have been the pleasure, how vivid the sensation to the Greek, whose ordinary amusement it was to sing, or hear them sung! For, this kind of entertainment was not confined to persons of taste and learning, but had grown into general use. When he heard his gods, his heroes, his ancestors received into the number of the gods, celebrated in a manner so glorious, so divine, would not his bosom glow with the desire of fame, with the most fervid emulation of virtue, with a patriotism, immoderate perhaps, but honourable and useful in the highest degree ? Is it wonderful, that he should be so elevated with this greatness of mind, (shall I call it ?) or rather insolence and pride, as to esteem every other people mean, barbarous, and contemptible, in comparison with himself and his own countrymen ? It is almost unnecessary to remind this assembly, that in the sacred games (which afforded so much support to the warlike virtue of Greece) no inconsiderable share of dignity and esteem resulted from the verses of the poets; nor did the Olympic crown exhibit a more ample reward to the candidate for victory, than the encomium of Pindar or Stesichorus. I wish, indeed, that time had not invidiously deprived us of the works of the latter, whose majesty and excellence commanded universal applause, whom Dionysius preferred before every other lyric poet, because he made choice of the sublimest and most splendid subjects, and in the amplification of them preserved most completely the manners and the dignity of his characters. To Alcaeus, however, the same author attributes the most excellent manner of treating political subjects. As a man, indeed, how great ! as a citizen, how strenuous ! What a spirited defender of the laws and constitution of his country ! what a vigorous opposer of tyrants ! who consecrated equally his sword and his lyre on the altar of freedom ! whose prophetic muse, ranging through every region, acted as the sacred guardian, not for the present moment only, but for future ages; not of his own city alone, but of the whole commonwealth of Greece. Poetry such as this, so vehement, so animated, is certainly to be esteemed highly efficacious, as well in exciting the human mind to virtue, as in purifying it from every mean and vicious propensity; but still more especially does it conduce to cherish and support that vigour of soul, that generous temper and spirit, which is both the offspring and guardian of liberty. Could an apprehension arise that another Pisistratus would meditate the enslaving of that city, where at every banquet, nay, in the streets and in the meanest assemblies of the common people, that convivial ode was daily sung which bears the name of Callistratus ? an author known to us only by this composition, which, however, sufficiently demonstrates him to have been an admirable poet and an excellent citizen :

Verdant myrtle’s branchy pride

Shall my thirsty blade entwine:

Such, Harmodius, deck’d thy side ;

Such, Aristogiton, thine.

Noblest youths ! in islands blest,

Not like recreant idlers dead;

You with fleet Pelides rest,

And with godlike Diomed.

Myrtle shall our brows entwine,

While the Muse your fame shall tell ;

‘Twas at Pallas’ sacred shrine,

At your feet the tyrant fell.

Then in Athens all was peace,

Equal laws and liberty :

Nurse of Arts and eye of Greece,

People valiant, firm, and free!

If, after the memorable Ides of March, any one of the tyrannicides had delivered to the populace such a poem as this, had introduced it to the suburra, to the assemblies of the forum, or had put it into the mouths of the common people, the dominion of the Caesars and its adherents would have been totally extinguished: and I am firmly persuaded, that one stanza of this simple ballad of Harmodius would have been more effectual than all the Philippics of Cicero.

There are some other species of poetry, which with us generally appear in an easy and familiar style, but formerly assumed sometimes a graver and more important character. Such is the Elegy: I do not speak of the light and amorous elegy of the moderns, but that ancient, serious, sacred, and didactic elegy, the preceptress of morals, the lawgiver of nations, the oracle of virtue. Not to enter into a detail of authors, of whose works we are not in possession, and of whose merits we consequently can form no adequate judgment, it will be sufficient to instance Solon, the most venerable character of antiquity, the wisest of legislators, and withal a poet of no mean reputation. When anything difficult or perplexing occurred in the administration of public affairs, we are informed that he had recourse to poetry. Were the laws to be maintained or enforced upon any particular emergency; was the indolence or licentiousness of the citizens to be reproved; were their minds to be stimulated to the love of liberty—he immediately attacked them with some poetical production, bold, animated, and severe; in the highest tone of censorial gravity, and yet in no respect deficient in elegance:

“ Before the awful peal the lightning flies,

And gathering clouds impending storms presage;

By souls aspiring civil freedom dies ;

The people’s madness whets the tyrant’s rage.”

It is a well-known fact, that Athens was altogether indebted for the recovery of Salamis to the verses of Solon, even contrary to their own inclination and intention. After they had, from repeated overthrows, fallen into the deepest despair, insomuch that it was made a capital offence even to propose the renewal of the Avar or the reclaiming of the island, such was the influence of that single poem, which begins—” Let us march to Salamis,” that, as if pronounced by a prophet instinct with divine enthusiasm, the people, propelled by a kind of celestial inspiration, flew immediately to arms, became clamorous for war, and sought the field of battle with such incredible ardour, that by the violence of their onset, after a great slaughter of the enemy, they achieved a most decisive victory.

We have also some remains of the celebrated Tyrtaeus, who

“manly souls to martial deeds

By verse excited.”

The whole scope and subject of his compositions is the celebration of valour and patriotism, and the immortal glory of those who bravely fell in battle:—compositions which could impart some degree of courage even to the timid and unmanly; by which, indeed, he elevated the minds of the Lacedemonians, which had been long debilitated and depressed, to the certain hope of victory. The fact is well known, and had it not been corroborated by the testimony of so many authors, it would doubtless have been thought by some incredible; though I confess it appears to me no less supported by the reason of things than by the authority of the historian. It is impossible that men should act otherwise than with the most heroic ardour, the most undaunted resolution, who sung to the martial pipe, when arranged in military order, marching to the onset, or perhaps actually engaged, such strains as these:

Our country’s voice invites the brave

The glorious toils of war to try;

Curs’d be the coward or the slave,

Who shuns the fight, who fears to die !

Obedient to the high command,

Full fraught with patriotic fire,

Descends a small but trusty band,

And scarce restrains th’ impatient ire.

Lo ! the hostile crowds advance !

Firmly we their might oppose;

Helm to helm, and lance to lance,

In awful pomp we meet our foes.

Unaw.’d by fear, untaught to yield,

We boldly tread th’ ensanguin’d plain;

And scorn to quit the martial field,

Though drench’d in blood, though heap’d with slain.

For though stern death assail the brave,

His virtues endless life shall claim;

His fame shall mock th’ invidious grave—

To times unborn a sacred name !

Not entirely to omit the lighter kinds of poetry, many will think that we allow them full enough, when we suppose their utility to consist in the entertainment which they afford. Nor is this, Gentlemen, altogether to be despised, if it be considered that this entertainment, this levity itself, affords relaxation to the mind when wearied with the laborious investigation of truth; that it unbends the understanding after intense application; restores it when debilitated; and refreshes it, even by an interchange and variety of study. In this we are countenanced by the example and authority of the greatest men of Greece, by that of Solon, Plato, and Aristotle; among the Romans, by that of Scipio and Laelius, Julius and Augustus Cœsar, Varro and Brutus, who filled up the intervals of their more important engagements, their severer studies, with the agreeableness and hilarity of this poetical talent. Nature indeed seems in this most wisely to have consulted for us, who, while she impels us to the knowledge of truth, which is frequently remote, and only to be prosecuted with indefatigable industry, has provided also these pleasing recreations as a refuge to the mind, in which it might occasionally shelter itself, and find an agreeable relief from languor and anxiety.

But there is yet a further advantage to be derived from these studies, which ought not to be neglected; for, beside possessing in reserve a certain solace of your labours, from the same repository you will also be supplied with many of

the brightest ornaments of literature. The first object is, indeed, to perceive and comprehend clearly the reasons, principles, and relations of things; the next is, to be able to explain your conceptions, not only with perspicuity, but with a degree of elegance. For, in this respect, we are all of us in some measure fastidious: We are seldom contented with a jejune and naked exposition even of the most serious subjects; some of the seasonings of art, some ornaments of style, some splendour of diction, are of necessity to be adopted; even some regard is due to the harmony of numbers, and to the gratification of the ear. In all these respects, though I grant that the language of poetry differs very widely from that of all other kinds of composition, yet he who has bestowed some time and attention on the perusal and imitation of the poets, will, I am persuaded, find his understanding exercised and improved as it were in this Palestra, the vigour and activity of his imagination increased, and even his manner of expression to have insensibly acquired a tinge from this elegant intercourse. Thus we observe in persons who have been taught to dance, a certain indescribable grace and manner; though they do not form their common gesture and gait by any certain rules, yet there results from that exercise a degree of elegance, which accompanies those who have been proficients in it even when they have relinquished the practice. Nor is it in the least improbable, that both Caesar and Tully (the one the most elegant, the other the most eloquent of the Romans) might have derived considerable assistance from the cultivation of this branch of polite literature, since it is well known that both of them were addicted to the reading of poetry, and even exercised in the composition of it. This too is so apparent in the writings of Plato, that he is thought not only to have erred in his judgment, but to have acted an ungrateful part, when he excluded from his imaginary commonwealth that art, to which he was so much indebted for the splendour and elegance of his genius, from whose fountains he had derived that soft, copious, and harmonious style, for which he is so justly admired.

But to return to the nobler and more important productions of the Muses.—Thus far poetry must be allowed to stand eminent among the other liberal arts; inasmuch as it refreshes the mind when it is fatigued, soothes it when it is agitated, relieves and invigorates it when it is depressed; as it elevates the thoughts to the admiration of what is beautiful, what is becoming, what is great and noble: nor is it enough to say, that it delivers the precepts of virtue in the most agreeable manner; it insinuates or instills into the soul the very principles of morality itself. Moreover, since the desire of glory, innate in man, appears to be the most powerful incentive to great and heroic actions, it is the peculiar function of poetry to improve this bias of our nature, and thus to cherish and enliven the embers of virtue: and since one of the principal employments of poetry consists in the celebration of great and virtuous actions, in transmitting to posterity the examples of the bravest and most excellent men, and in consecrating their names to immortality; this praise is certainly its due, that while it forms the mind to habits of rectitude by its precepts, directs it by examples, excites and animates it by its peculiar force, it has also the distinguished honour of distributing to virtue the most ample and desirable rewards of its labours.

But, after all, we shall think more humbly of poetry than it deserves, unless we direct our attention to that quarter where its importance is most eminently conspicuous; unless we contemplate it as employed on sacred subjects, and in subservience to religion. This indeed appears to have been the original office and destination of poetry; and this it still so happily performs, that in all other cases it seems out of character, as if intended for this purpose alone. m In other instances poetry appears to want the assistance of art, but in this to shine forth with all its natural splendour, or rather to be animated by that inspiration, which, on other occasions, is spoken of without being felt. These observations are remarkably exemplified in the Hebrew poetry, than which the human mind can conceive nothing more elevated, more beautiful, or more elegant; in which the almost ineffable sublimity of the subject is fully equalled by the energy of the language and the dignity of the style. And it is worthy observation, that as some of these writings exceed in antiquity the fabulous ages of Greece, in sublimity they are superior to the most finished productions of that polished people. Thus, if the actual origin of poetry be inquired after, it must of necessity be referred to religion; and since it appears to be an art derived from nature alone, peculiar to no age or nation, and only at an advanced period of society conformed to rule and method, it must be wholly attributed to the more violent affections of the heart, the nature of which is to express themselves in an animated and lofty tone, with a vehemence of expression far remote from vulgar use. It is also no less observable, that these affections break and interrupt the enunciation by their impetuosity; they burst forth in sentences pointed, earnest, rapid, and tremulous; in some degree the style as well as the modulation is adapted to the emotions and habits of the mind. This is particularly the case in admiration and delight; and what passions are so likely to be excited by religious contemplations as these? What ideas could so powerfully affect a new-created mind, (undepraved by habit or opinion), as the goodness, the wisdom, and the greatness of the Almighty ? Is it not probable, that the first effort of rude and unpolished verse would display itself in the praise of the Creator, and flow almost involuntarily from the enraptured mind ? Thus far, at least, is certain, that poetry has been nurtured in those sacred places where she seems to have been first called into existence , and that her original occupation was in the temple and at the altar. However ages and nations may have differed in their religious sentiments and opinions, in this at least we find them all agreed, that the mysteries of their devotion were celebrated in verse. Of this origin poetry even yet exhibits no obscure indications, since she ever embraces a divine and sacred subject with a kind of filial tenderness and affection. To the sacred haunts of religion she delights to resort as to her native soil: there she most willingly inhabits, and there she flourishes in all her pristine beauty and vigour. But to have slightly glanced at the subject, appears sufficient for the present; we shall soon perhaps find an opportunity of entering upon a more ample discussion.

I trust indeed that you will pardon me, Gentlemen, if I do not as yet venture to explain my future plan of instruction, and the form and method which I think of pursuing. That man must have too little respect for your judgment, and by far too high an opinion of his own, who would presume to produce before you matter not sufficiently digested, not sufficiently polished and perfected by study and by the maturest consideration. I have, therefore, determined within myself, that nothing shall hastily or prematurely proceed from me in this assembly, nothing which is not laboured to the extent of my abilities; and that for what is wanting in genius, in erudition, in fluency, and in every respect in which I feel myself deficient, I shall endeavour to compensate, as much as possible, by care and assiduity. If in these points I shall be enabled to perform my duty, I trust, Gentlemen, that other deficiencies you will be kind enough to excuse; and that the person whom you have honoured with your favour and attention, with your candour and indulgence, you will continue to support.

LECTURE II.THE DESIGN AND ARRANGEMENT OF THESE LECTURES.

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THE DIGNITY OF THE SUBJECT, and its suitableness to the design of the institution— That Poetry which proceeds from divine inspiration is not beyond the province of criticism— Criticism will enable its to account for the origin of the art, as well as to form a just estimation of its dignity: that the opinion of the divine origin of Poetry was common in Greece—This work purely critical; and, consequently, theological disquisitions will be avoided—The general distribution of the subject into three parts—the nature of the verse, the style, and the arrangement.

Socrates, as we read in Plato, having been frequently admonished in a dream to apply to music, and esteeming himself bound to fulfil a duty which appeared to have been imposed upon him by divine authority, began with composing a hymn to Apollo, and afterwards undertook to translate some of the Fables of Æsop into verse. This he did, I apprehend, under the persuasion, that the first fruits of his poetry (which he esteemed the principal branch of the science of music) ought to be consecrated to the immortal gods; and that it was not lawful for him, who was but little versed in those studies, to descend to lighter subjects, which perhaps might in the main be more agreeable to his genius, before he had discharged the obligations of religion. It is my intention, Gentlemen, to follow the example of this great philosopher; and since the University has honoured me with this office of explaining to you the nature and principles of poetry, I mean to enter upon it from that quarter whence he thought himself obliged to commence the study and practice of the art. I have determined, therefore, in the first place, to treat of sacred poetry—that species, I mean, which was cultivated by the ancient Hebrews, and which is peculiarly appropriated to subjects the most solemn and sublime; that, should my endeavours prove unequal to so great a subject, I may, as it were with favourable auspices, descend to mat-tors of inferior importance. I undertake this office, however, with the most perfect conviction, that not only from a regard to duty it ought to be executed with diligence, but, from the respectability of that body at whose command it is undertaken, it ought to be executed with honour and reputation: nor is it merely to be considered what the intent of the institution and the improvement of the students may require, but what will be consistent with the dignity of this University. For, since the University, when it gave its sanction to this species of discipline by a special decree, recommended the study of poetry particularly because it might conduce to the improvement of the more important sciences, as well sacred as profane, nothing could certainly appear more useful in itself, or more agreeable to the purpose of this institution, and the design of its learned patrons, than to treat of that species of poetry which constitutes so considerable a part of sacred literature, and excels all other poetry, not less in the sublimity of the style, than in the dignity of the subject.

It would not be easy, indeed, to assign a reason, why the writings of Homer, of Pindar, and of Horace, should engross our attention and monopolize our praise, while those of Moses, of David, and Isaiah, pass totally unregarded. Shall we suppose that the subject is not adapted to a seminary in which sacred literature has ever maintained a precedence? Shall we say, that it is foreign to this assembly of promising youth, of whom the greater part have consecrated the best portion of their time and labour to the same department of learning? Or must we conclude, that the writings of those men who have accomplished only as much as human genius and ability could accomplish, should be reduced to method and theory; but that those which boast a much higher origin, and are justly attributed to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, may be considered as indeed illustrious by their native force and beauty, but not as conformable to the principles of science, nor to be circumscribed by any rules of art ï It is indeed most true, that sacred poetry, if we contemplate its origin alone, is far superior to both nature and art;