listening world from Moses down to Milton. In fine, it is even declaring against the sublimest passages of the inspired writings themselves, and what seems to be the peculiar language of heaven. "The truth of the case is this: these weak-sighted gentlemen cannot bear the strong light of poetry, and the finer and more amusing scene of things it displays; but must those, therefore, whom heaven has blessed with the discerning eye, shut it to keep them company? It is pleasant enough, however, to observe frequently in these enemies of poetry, an awkward imitation of it. They sometimes have their little brightnesses, when the opening glooms will permit. Nay, I have seen their heaviness on some occasions deign to turn friskish and witty, in which they make just such another figure, as Æsop's ass, when he began to fawn. To compleat the absurdity, they would even in their efforts against poetry fain be poetical; like those gentlemen that reason with a great deal of zeal and severity against reason. "That there are frequent and notorious abuses of poetry is as true as that the best things are most liable to that misfortune: but is there no end of that clamorous argument against the use of things from the abuse of them? And yet I hope that no man, who has the least sense of shame in him, will fall into it after the present sulphureous attacker* of the stage. To insist no further on this head, let poetry once more be restored to her ancient truth and purity; let her be inspired from heaven, and in return, her incense ascend thither let her exchange her low, venal, trifling * Probably Jeremy Collier, who died in 1726, and had attacked the stage formidably at least, if not sulphur cously. subjects, subjects, for such as are fair, uscful, and magnificent; and let her execute these so as at once to please, instruct, surprize, and astonish: and then, of necessity, the most inveterate ignorance and prejudice shall be struck dumb, and poets yet become the delight and wonder of mankind. But this happy period is not to be expected till some long-wished illustrious man, of equal power and beneficence, rise on the wintry world of letters: one of a genuine and unbounded greatness and generosity of mind, who, far above all the pomp and pride of fortune, scorns the little addressful flatterer; pierces through the disguised, designing villain; discountenances all the reigning fopperies of a tasteless age; and who, stretching his views into late futurity, has the true interest of virtue, learning, and mankind, entirely at heart :-a character so nobly desirable! that to an honest heart it is almost incredible so few should have the ambition to deserve it. "Nothing can have a better influence towards the revival of poetry than the chusing of great and serious subjects: such as at once amuse the fancy, enlighten the head, and warm the heart. These give a weight and dignity to the poem: nor is the pleasure, I should say rapture, both the writer and the reader feels, unwarranted by reason, or followed by repentant disgust. To be able to write on a dry, barren theme, is looked upon by some as the sign of a happy, fruitful genius. Fruitful indeed! like one of the pendant gardens in Cheapside, watered every morning by the hand of the alderman himself. And what are we commonly entertained with on these occasions, save forced, unaffecting fancies; little glittering prettinesses; mixed turns of wit and expression; which are as widely dif ferent from native poetry, as buffoonery is from the perfection of human thinking? A genius fired with the charms of truth and nature is tuned to a sublimer pitch, and scorns to associate with such subjects. I cannot more emphatically recommend this poetical ambition than by the four following lines from Mr. Hill's poem, called "The Judgment Day," which is so singular an instance of it. For me, suffice it to have taught my Muse The tuneful triflings of her tribe to shun, And rais'd her warmth such heavenly themes to chuse, "I know no subject more elevating, more amusing, more ready to awake the poetical enthusiasm, the philosophical reflection, and the moral sentiment, than the works of Nature. Where can we meet with such variety, such beauty, such magnificence? All that en larges and transports the soul? What more inspiring than a calm, wide survey of them? In every dress Nature is greatly charming: whether she puts on the crimson robes of the morning, the strong effulgence of noon, the sober suit of the evening, or the deep sables of blackness and tempest. How gay looks the Spring! how glorious the Summer! how pleasing the Autumn! and how venerable the Winter! But there is no thinking of these things without breaking out into poetry; which is, by the bye, a plain and undeniable argument of their superior excellence. For this reason the best, both ancient and modern poets, have been passionately fond of retirement and solitude. The wild romantic country was their delight: and they seem never to have been more happy, than when lost in un frequented frequented fields, far from the little busy world, they were at leisure to meditate and sing the works of Nature. "The book of Job, that noble and ancient poem, which even strikes so forcibly through a mangling translation, is crowned with a description of the grand works of Nature, and that too from the mouth of their ALMIGHTY AUTHOR! It was this devotion to the works of Nature, that, in his Georgicks, inspired the rural Virgil to write so inimitably; and who can forbear joining with him in this declaration of his, which has been the rapture of ages? Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musæ, &c. to Flumina amein sylvasque inglorius. Vide Georg. lib. iii, which may be Englished thus: Me may the Muses, my supreme delight! Whose priest I am, smit with immense desire, The sun's distress, the labours of the moon; "I cannot put an end to this Preface, without taking the freedom to offer my most sincere and grateful acknowledgments to all those gentlemen who have given my first performance so favourable a reception. It is with the best pleasure and a rising ambition, that I reflect F 4 Ilang, I reflect on the honour Mr. Hill* has done me, in recommending my poem to the world, after a manner so peculiar to himself; than whom none approves and obliges with a nobler and more unreserving promptitude of soul. His favours are the very smiles of humanity, graceful and easy, flowing from and to the heart. This agreeable train of thought awakens naturally in my mind all the other parts of his great and amiable character, which I know not well how to quit, and yet dare not here pursue. Every reader who has a heart to be moved, must feel the most gentle power of poetry in the lines with which Mira has graced my poem. "It perhaps might be reckoned vanity in me to say how richly I value the approbation of a gentleman of Mr. Malloch's fine and exact taste, so justly dear and valuable to all those that have the happiness of knowing him; and who, to say no more of him, will abundantly make good to the world, the early promise his admired piece of William and Margaret' has given. "I only wish my description of the various appearances of Nature in WINTER, and, as I purpose, in the other Seasons †, may have the good fortune to give the reader some of that true pleasure, which they in Aaron Hill and David Mallet (alias Malloch) prefixed the verses printed in their works; and a third copy was signed Mira, the fictitious name of a lady, says Dr. Johnson, once too well known. + Summer was printed in 1727, and Spring in 1728 : at the same time were issued "Proposals for printing by subscription the Four Seasons, with a Hymn on their succession; a poem to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton; and an Essay on descriptive poetry. The latter does not seem to have been produced, but the Seasons were completed and printed in 1730, in 4to. and 8vo. |
