Anacreon resumed his remarks on poetry, some of which I shall here insert without regard to the chain of the conversation. He said that "the first rule with respect to the manners and characters of the persons introduced into a play, is, that they should be good: that is, the poet should take particular care not to represent them worse, or more immoral than his subject necessarily demands: an instance of the violation of this rule occurs in the Orestes of Euripides, where the poet makes Menelaus appear cxceedingly bad, without any necessity for it. ΐςι δε παρά δειγμα, &c.* "Homer, to preserve the unity of his action hastens into the midst of things. Had he gone up to Leda's egg or begun much later, even at the rape of Helen or the investment of Troy, it is evident that the story of the poem would have been a series of several actions. He therefore commences with the discord of his princes, and artfully interweaves, in the successive parts of his poem, an account of every thing material that relates to them, and had occured before the dissention." "In the same manner Æneas makes his first appearance in the Tyrrhene seas, and within sight of the shores of Italy; because the action proposed to be celebrated was his settlement in Latium. But as it was necessary for the reader to know what had happened to him at the taking of Troy, Virgil makes his hero relate it in an episode in the second and third books of the Æneid, the contents of which precede those of the first in the thread of the narrative, though they follow it in the disposition of the poem, in order to preserve the unity of action.t In justice to the ancients it must be observed, that they very rarely erred in this particular; for though indeed it is not strictly true, that every thing they said upon the stage had an immediate tendency to the promotion of virtue, yet it is very seldom that they allowed of vile obscenity or prophanity, or indulged in any expressions which were offensive to good manners: faults which are too frequent among the most admired of modern writers. The passage in the text, which is principally taken from Aristotle is well explained and illustrated by Bishop Hare, in the dedication prefixed to his Terence. † Milton, in imitation of these two great poets, opens his Paradise Lost with an infernal council plotting the fall of man, which is the action he "The author of an Epic poem should seldom speak in his own person, but throw as much of his work as he can into the mouths of those who are his principal actors. For the mind of the reader is more awed and elevated when he hears Achilles or Æneas than when he listens to Homer or Virgil. Besides, the very impression that we are speaking the language of an eminent hero exalts and expands the imagination of the author.* It is really surprizing to remark in the Iliad and Æneid, how little proceeds from the mouths of the writers." "The great secret of heroick poetry, according to Aristotle, is, to relate such circumstances as may produce in the reader at the same time both belief and astonishment: or, in other words, the fable should be filled with the probable and the marvellous. But while the poet excites our astonishment he should be cautious not to overstep the bounds of nature so far, that reason would revolt proposed to celebrate. And, as for those great actions, the battle of the angels and the creation of the world, which preceded in point of time, but which would have entirely destroyed the unity of his principal action had he related them in the same order in which they happened, he gives them in the fifth, sixth and seventh books, by way of Episode. It may be observed here also, that as Virgil, in the poem which was designed to celebrate the origin of the Roman Empire, has described the birth of its great rival, the Carthaginian commonwealth, Milton, with similar art, in his poem on the fall of man, has related the fall of the angels who are his professed enemies. Besides the many other beauties in such an Episode, its running parallel with the great action of the poem, hinders it from breaking the unity so much as another episode would have done, that had not so near an affinity with the principal subject. * Tully tells us, in speaking of his celebrated Dialogue on Old Age, in which Cato is the chief speaker, that upon a review of it, he was agreeably imposed upon, and fancied it really was Cato, and not himself, who uttered his thoughts upon the subject! Milton appears to have paid very particular attention to this rule. There is scarcely a third part of the whole of his poem which proceeds apparently from him; the rest is spoken by Adam or Eve or some good or evil spirit, who is engaged either in their destruction or defence. His querulousness about his own blindness, the reflections on the nakedness of Adam and Eve, on the angels eating, and some other passages which might be cited are exceptions, it is true-but who would lose a line of Milton? from the dominion which his genius enforces. Because, by carrying nature into exigencies in which she cannot exist, he prevents himself from making those observations on her conduct which even extraordinary circumstances would justify. He thus becomes a poet to the eye, but not to the heart. Wonder is a quality which cannot be kept constantly in action. We may contemplate the objects which his fertile imagination has presented to our view, but we forget the man.”* "I think the Dithyrambick is the only proper metre for hymns in honour of Bacchus. This sort of poem is strictly imitative, because the poet endeavours to exhibit the sentiments and delirium which should be felt by a Dithyramb or chaunter of Dithyrambicks. Its peculiar quality is a sort of enthusiastic wildness which, spurning at the trammels of the laws of poetry, admits of any boldness and irregularity of expression, and the utmost extravagance of metaphor. The thoughts and the words are not confined to a connected chain, and the versification flows according to the inspiration of the muse."t Anacreon then concluded his entertaining remarks, but before we retired to rest, he wrote the following lines, on a dish, which he had received from our friend Stratocles. ON THE PICTURE of Europa.‡ Methinks, the pictur'd bull we see Is amorous Jove-it must be he! Milton's fable is a master-piece of this nature. The rebellion in Heaven, the miserable condition of the fallen angels, the state of innocence in which our first parents lived, the temptations of the serpent, the fall of man, &c. though very astonishing in themselves, are not only credible, but they are actually articles of faith. + Horace expressively describes the Dithyrambick of the Theban. The learned are not agreed as to the etymology of the word, but they have amused us with a variety of uncertain conjectures. This ode may perhaps be considered as a description of one of those coins, which the Sidonians struck off in honour of Europa, representing a How fondly blest he seems to bear How proud he breasts the foamy tide, No: he descends from climes above, He looks the God, he breathes of Jove! The next day we repaired to a rich carousal at the house of Sappho, who strove to forget the disdain of Phaon in the lyre. of Anacreon and the merriment of convivial society. Her love for that beautiful youth must have been of a very exalted nature, for instead of those feelings which are usually excited by disdain or treachery in the female breast, Sappho still cherished a fondness for the memory of the insensate Phaon. She dwelt with a mournful pensiveness on the graces which adorned his person, and she delighted to contemplate with fancy's eye the smiles which irradiated his countenance. Love, which acts with such violence in some, had softened her feelings, added dignity to her mind, and vigour to her genius. So calm and resigned did she now appear, that her friends were flattered with the hope that her former love had subsided, and that in the genius of Anacreon she would forget the irresitible charms of the scornful youth. The seductive graces of Anacreon's conversation and the bewitching allurements of his lyre, had done much towards removing from her breast the impressions of other attachments; and, could he have remained longer at Mytilene, I have no doubt but that he would have prevented the melancholy catastrophe which terminated the life and misfortunes of the Lesbian Muse. But while they were plunged in revelry and delight, when all Mytilene seemed, in the intoxication of festivals to have abstracted herself from the world, and to have forgotten the existence of other woman carried across the sea by a bull. Thus Natalis Comes, lib. viii. cap. 23. "Sidonii numismata cum fœminâ tauri dorso insidente ac mare transfretante, cuderunt in ejus honorem." In the little treatise upon the goddess of Syria, attributed very falsely to Lucian, there is mention of this coin, and of a temple dedicated by the Sidonians to Astarte, whom some, it appears, confounded with Europa. M. countries, events of a sad and solemn portent agitated the political horizon of the Athenian republic. By what means soever of stratagem or violence, Pisistratus had acquired the sovereignty of Athens, the indignation of his countrymen had long been lost in admiration of his talents, his justice, and his moderation. The tyrant was known only by name when they saw Pisistratus rejecting the adventitious aid of royalty, and appearing before the Areopagi, with no other protection than the shield of innocence, to answer a criminal charge. When they saw him not only pardon, but distinguish by enviable honours, the youth whose excessive love had driven him to such desperation, as to induce him to attempt to carry off the daughter of the king from a public procession, they beheld one who had not lost the feelings of a man in the pride of power. When they saw him striving by all the arts of solicitation to acquire the friendship of Solon, and to enlist the wisdom of that venerable legislator in support of his administration, they contemplated a rival who had the magnanimity to esteem his opponent, and a sovereign whose greatest solicitude was for the welfare and dignity of his subjects. Yet, as always has happened, and ever will happen, where the people are flattered with notions of their own importance by the specious bawling of the patriot, or dazzled by the more open designs of the ambitious usurper, the mild government of Pisistratus became obnoxious. Twice was he obliged to resign an ungrateful authority and fly from the city, and twice did he resume his authority. The people, by which term I mean a large majority of the population of every country, are ever credulous and ignorant. They are deceived by the flattery of the artful, and seduced by the splendid talents of the ambitious. It is the aim of a vicious set of men, who would disturb the tranquillity of society, to inculcate the most dangerous maxims, and circulate the most flagrant falsehoods: in this they persevere with a tenacity which no punishments can wholly subdue, and nothing can divert, but the allurements of wealth.* *To such men how justly may we apply the vigorous lines of Beau |