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This author, in riper years is guilty of a much greater deviation from the rule. Dullness
be imagined a deity or idol, to be worshipped by bad writers ; but then some sort of disguise is requisite, some baftard virtue must be bestowed, to make such worship in some degree excusible. Yet in the Dunciad, Dullness without the least disguise, is made the object of worship. The mind rejects such a fiction as unnatural ; for dullness is a defect, of which even the dullest mortal is alhamed :
Then he : Great tamer of all human art!
B. i. 163. The following instance is stretched beyond all resemblance : it is bold to take a part of member of a liv. ing creature, and to bestow upon it life, volition, and
action : after animating two such members, it is still bolder to make one envy the other ; for this is wide of any resemblance to reality :
De noftri baci
Peftor Fido, ačt 2. fc. 1. Fifthly, The enthusiasm of passion may have the effect to prolong passionate personification : but defe criptive personification cannot be dispatched in too few words : a circumstantiate description dissolves the charm, and makes the attempt to personify appear ridiculous. Homer fucceeds in animating his darts and arrows : but such personification spun out in a French translation, is mere burlesque :
Et la fléche en furie, avide de son sang,
Part, vole à lui, l'atteint, et lui perce le flanc. Horace says happily,
Post equitem fedet atra Cura. Observe how this thought degenerates by being die vided, like the former, into a number of minute parts :
Un fou rempli d'erreurs, que le trouble accompagne
Le Chagrin monte en croupe, et galope avec lui.
Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze,
Pope's Pafiorals, iv. 6). Let grief or love have the power to animate the winds, the trees, the floods, provided the figure bę dispatched in a single expression : even in that case, the figure seldom has a good effect ; because grief or love of the pastoral kind, are causes rather too faint for so violent an effect as imagining the winds, trees, or floods, to be sensible beings. But when this figure is deliberately spread out, with great regularity and accuracy, through many lines, the read. er, instead of relishing it, is struck with its ridicu. lous appearance.
Apostrophe. This figure and the former are derived from the same principle. If, to humour a plaintive paslion, we can bestow a momentary sensibility upon an inanimate object, it is not more difficult to bestow a momencary presence upon a sensible being who is abfent :
Hinc Drepani me portus et illætabilis ora
' tot tempestatibus actus,
Anchifen : hic mc puter optime feffum
Æneid, iii. 707.
Strike the harp in praise of Bragela, whom I left in the isle of milt, ihe spouse of my love. Dost thou raise thy fair face from the sock to find the fails of Cuchullin ? The fea is rolling far distant, and its white foam shall deceive thee for my fails. Retire for it is night my love, and the dark winds ligh in thy hair. Retire to the hall of my feasts, and think of the times that are paít ; for I will not return till the storm of war is gone. O Connal speak of wars and arms, and send her from my mind ; for lovely with her raven-hair is the white-bolom'd daughter of Sor. glan.
Fingal, b. s. Speaking of Fingal absent,
Happy are thy people, O Fingal ; thine arm shall fight their battles. Thou art the first in their dangers; the wifeft in the days of their peace : thou speakest, and thy thou.
sands obey; and armies tremble at the sound of thy steel. Happy are thy people, O Fingal.
This figure is sometimes joined with the former :
Et si fara Deum, fi mens non læva fuisset,
Æneid, ii. 54.
Poor Lord, is't I
All's well that ends well, ači 3. fi. 4.
And let them lift ten thousand swords, faid Nathos with a smile : the sons of car-borne Ulnoth will never tremble in danger. Why doft thou roll with all thy foam, thou roaring sea of Ullin? why do ye rustle on your dark wings, ye whiitiing tempeíts of the lky Do ye think, ye storins, that ye keep Nathos on the coast? No ; his soul detains him, children of the night ! Althos, bring my father's
Whether halt thou flcd, O wind, said the King of Morven! Doft thou rustle in the chambers of the south, and pursue the shower in other lands? Why comet not thou to my fails, to the blue face of my feas' The toe is in the land of Morven, and the king is absent.