The epic plan, more especially that of the Aeneis, naturally comprehends whatever is most august in civil and religious affairs. The solemnities of funeral rites, and the festivities of public games (which religion had made an essential part of them) were, of necessity, to be included in a representation of the latter. But what games? Surely those, which ancient heroism vaunted to excell in; those, which the usage of the times had consecrated; and which, from the opinion of reverence and dignity entertained of them, were become most fit for the pomp of epic description. Further, what circumstances could be noted in these sports? Certainly those, which befell most usually, and were the aptest to alarm the spectator, and make him take an interest in them. These, it will be said, are numerous. They are so; yet such as are most to the poet's purpose, are, with little or no variation, the same. It happened luckily for him, that two of his games, on which accordingly he hath exerted all the force of his genius, were entirely new. This advantage, the circumstances of the times afforded him. The Naumachia was purely his own. Yet so liable are even the best and most candid judges to be haunted by this spectre of imitation, that one, whom every

friend to every human excellence honours, cannot help, on comparing it with the chariotrace of Homer, exclaiming in these words; "What is the encounter of Cloanthus and Gyas "in the strait between the rocks, but the same "with that of Menelaus and Antilochus in the "hollow way? Had the galley of Serjestus "been broken, if the chariot of Eumelus had "not been demolished? Or, Mnestheus been "cast from the helm, had not the other been "thrown from his seat?" The plain truth is it was not possible, in describing an ancient sea-fight, for one, who had even never seen Homer, to overlook such usual and striking particulars, as the justling of ships, the breaking of galleys, and loss of pilots.

It may appear from this instance, with what reason a similarity of circumstance, in the other games, hath been objected. The subjectmatter admitted not any material variation: I mean in the hands of so judicious a copier of Nature as Virgil. For,

"Homer and Nature were, he found, the same."

So that we are not to wonder he kept close to his author, though at the expence of this false fame of Originality. Nay it appears

directly from a remarkable instance that in the case before us, He unquestionably judged right.

A defect of natural ability is not that, which the critics have been most forward to charge upon Statius. A person of true taste, who, in a fanciful way, hath contrived to give us the just character of the Latin poets, in assigning to this poet the topmost station on Parnassus, sufficiently acknowledges the vigour and activity of his genius. Yet, in composing his Thebaid (an old story taken from the heroie ages, which obliged him to the celebration of funeral obsequies with the attending solemnities of public games) to avoid the dishonour of following too closely on the heels of Homer and Virgil, who had not only taken the same route, but pursued it in the most direct and natural course, he resolved, at all adventures, to keep at due distance from them, and to make his way, as well as he could, more obliquely to the same end. To accomplish this project, he was forced, though in the description of the same individual games, to look out for different circumstances and events in them; that so the identity of his subject, which he could not avoid, might, in some degree, be atoned for by the diversity of his

manner in treating it. It must be owned, that great ingenuity as well as industry hath been used, in executing this design. Had it been practicable, the character, just given of this poet, makes it credible, he must have succeeded in it. Yet, so impossible it is, without deserting nature herself, to dissent from her faithful copiers, that the main objection to the sixth book of the Thebaid hath arisen from this fruitless endeavour of being "original, where common sense and the reason of the thing would not permit it. "In the "particular descriptions of each of these games

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(says the great writer before quoted, and "from whose sentence in matters of taste, "there lies no appeal) Statius hath not bor"rowed from either of his predecessors, and "his poem is so much the worse for it."

2. The case of DESCRIPTION is still clearer, and, after what has been so largely discoursed on the subjects of it, will require but few words. For it must have appeared, in considering them, that not only the objects themselves are necessarily obtruded on the poet, but that the occasions of introducing them are also restrained by many limitations. If we reflect a little, we shall find, that they grow out of the action represented, which, in the greater poetry,'

implies a great similarity, even when most different. What, for instance, is the purpose of the epic poet, but to shew his hero under the most awful and interesing circumstances of human life? To this end some general design is formed. He must war with Achilles, or voyage with Ulysses. And, to work up his fable to that magnificence, METAAQIIPEIIEIAN, which Aristotle rightly observes to be the characteristic of this poem, heaven and hell must also be interested in the success of his enterprise. And what is this, in effect, but to own, that the pomp of epic description, in its draught of battles, with its several accidents; of storms, shipwrecks, &c. of the intervention of gods, or machination of devils, is, in great measure, determined, not only as to the choice, but application of it, to the poet's hands? And the like conclusion extends to still minuter particularities.

What concerns the delineation of characters may seem to carry with it more difficulty. Yet, though these are infinitely diversified by distinct peculiar lineaments, poetry cannot help falling into the same general representation. For it is conversant about the greater characters; such as demand the imputation of like manners, and who are actuated by the