st stanza recurs again to commonplaces. The conclusion is too
evidently modelled by that of Dryden; and it may be remarked that both
end with the same fault: the comparison of each is literal on one side,
and metaphorical on the other.
Poets do not always express their own thoughts; Pope, with all this
labour in the praise of musick, was ignorant of its principles, and
insensible of its effects.
One of his greatest, though of his earliest works, is the Essay on
Criticism, which, if he had written nothing else, would have placed him
among the first criticks and the first poets, as it exhibits every mode
of excellence that can embellish or dignify didactick composition,
selection of matter, novelty of arrangement, justness of precept,
splendour of illustration, and propriety of digression. I know not
whether it be pleasing to consider that he produced this piece at
twenty, and never afterwards excelled it: he that delights himself with
observing that such powers may be so soon attained, cannot but grieve to
think that life was ever after at a stand.
To mention the particular beauties of the essay would be unprofitably
tedious; but I cannot forbear to observe, that the comparison of a
student's progress in the sciences with the journey of a traveller in
the Alps, is, perhaps, the best that English poetry can show. A simile,
to be perfect, must both illustrate and ennoble the subject; must show
it to the understanding in a clearer view, and display it to the fancy
with greater dignity; but either of these qualities may be sufficient to
recommend it. In didactick poetry, of which the great purpose is
instruction, a simile may be praised which illustrates, though it does
not ennoble; in heroicks, that may be admitted which ennobles, though it
does not illustrate. That it may be complete, it is required to exhibit,
independently of its references, a pleasing image; for a simile is said
to be a short episode. To this antiquity was so attentive, that
circumstances were sometimes added, which, having no parallels, served
only to fill the imagination, and produced what Perrault ludicrously
called "comparisons with a long tail." In their similes the greatest
writers have sometimes failed; the ship-race, compared with the
chariot-race, is neither illustrated nor aggrandized; land and water
make all the difference: when Apollo, running after Daphne, is likened
to a greyhound chasing a hare, there is nothing gained; the ideas of
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