before him.' Homer keeps a mighty stir with his Νεφεληγερεία Ζευς; and Hesiod with his Ζευς

BREμerns: Jupiter, that raises up the clouds, and that makes a noise, or thunders on high. But a divine poet makes the clouds but the dust of his feet; and when the Highest gives his voice in the heavens, hail-stones and coals of fire follow.' A divine poet 'discovers the channels of the waters, and Jays open the foundations of nature; at thy rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of thy nostrils." When the Holy One alighted upon Mount Sinai, his glory covered the heavens ; he stood and measured the earth: he beheld and drove asunder the nations, and the everlasting mountains were scattered: the perpetual hills did bow; his ways are everlasting.' Then the prophet' saw the tents of Cushan in affliction, and the curtains of the land of Midian did tremble.' Hab. iii. Nor did the Blessed Spirit which animated these writers forbid them the use of visions, dreams, the opening of scenes dreadful and delightful, and the introduction of machines upon great occasions: the divine licence in this respect is admirable and surprising, and the images are often too bold aud dangerous for an Mr. Dennis has uninspired writer to imitate.

made a noble essay, to discover how much superior is inspired poesy to the brightest and best descriptions of a mortal pen. Perhaps, if his Proposal of Criticism had been encouraged and pursued, the nation might have learned more value for the word of God, and the wits of the age might have been secured from the danger of deism; while they must have been forced to confess at least the

divinity of all the poetical books of scripture, when they see a genius running through them more than human.

Who is there now will dare to assert, that the doctrines of our holy faith will not indulge or endure a delightful dress? shall the French poet affright us by saying,

2

'De la foy d'un Chretien les mysteres terribles, D' Ornemens egayez ne sont point susceptibles ?' But the French critic3, in his Reflections upon Eloquence, tells us, that the majesty of our religion, the holiness of its laws, the purity of its morals, the height of its mysteries, and the importance of every subject that belongs to it, requires a grandeur, a nobleness, a majesty and elevation of style, suited to the theme: sparkling images and magnificent expressions must be used, and are best borrowed from scripture: let the preacher, that aims at eloquence, read the prophets incessantly, for their writings are an abundant source of all the riches and ornaments of speech.' And, in my opinion, this is far better counsel than Horace gives us, when he says,

Vos exemplaria Græca

Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.

As in the conduct of my studies with regard to divinity, I have reason to repent of nothing more than that I have not perused the Bible with more frequency; so if I were to set up for a poet, with a design to exceed all the modern writers, I would follow the advice of Rapin, and read the prophets 5 Rapin.

Boilean.

night and day. I am sure, the composures of the following book would have been filled with much greater sense, and appeared with much more agreeable ornaments, had I derived a larger portion from the holy scriptures.

Besides, we may fetch a further answer to Mons. Boileau's objection, from other poets of his own country. What a noble use have Racine and Corneille made of Christian subjects, in some of their best tragedies? what a variety of divine scenes are displayed, and pious passions awakened in those poems? The Martyrdom of Polyeucte, how doth it reign over our love and pity, and at the same time animate our zeal and devotion! May I here be permitted the liberty to return my thanks to that fair and ingenious hand 4 that directed me to such entertainments in a foreign language, which I had long wished for, and sought in vain in our own? Yet I must confess, that the Davideis, and the two Arthurs, have so far answered Boileau's objection, in English, as that the obstacles of attempting Christian poësy are broken down, and the vain pretence of its being impracticable, is experimentally confuted 5.

It is true indeed the Christian mysteries have not such need of gay trappings as beautified, or rather composed, the heathen superstition. But this still makes for the greater ease and surer suc

4 Philomela: Mrs. Singer, afterwards Rowe.

Sir Richard Blackmore, in his admirable preface to his last poem entitled Alfred, has more copiously refuted all Boileau's arguments on this subject; and that with great justice and elegance. I am persuaded that many persous who despise this poem, would acknowledge the just senti. ments of that preface.

cess of the poet. The wonders of our religion, in a plain narration and a simple dress, have a native grandeur, a dignity, and a beauty in them though they do not utterly disdain all methods of ornament. The book of the Revelations seems to be a prophecy in the form of an opera, or dramatic poem, where divine art illustrates the subject with many charming glories; but still it must be acknowledged, that the naked themes of Christianity have something brighter and bolder in them, something more surprising and celestial, than all the adventures of gods and heroes; all the dazzling images of false lustre, that form and garnish a heathen song. Here the very argument would give wonderful aids to the Muse, and the heavenly theme would so relieve a dull hour, and a languishing genius that when the Muse nods, the sense would burn and sparkle upon the reader, and keep him feelingly awake.

:

With how much less toil and expense might a Dryden, an Otway, a Congreve, or a Dennis, furnish out a Christian poem, than a modern play? There is nothing amongst all the ancient fables, or later romances, that have two such extremes united in them, as the Eternal God becoming an infant of days; the possessor of the palace of Heaven laid to sleep in a manger; the holy Jesus, who knew no sin, bearing the sins of men in his body on the tree; agonies of sorrow loading the soul of him who was God over all, blessed for ever; and the Sovereign of Life stretching his arms on a cross, bleeding and expiring. The Heaven and the hell in our Divinity are infinitely more delightful and dreadful than the childish figments of a

dog with three heads, the buckets of the Belides, the Furies with snaky hairs, or all the flowery stories of Elysium. And if we survey the one as themes divinely true, and the other as a medley of fooleries which we can never believe; the advantage for touching the springs of passion, will fall infinitely on the side of the Christian poet; our wonder and our love, our pity, delight, and sorrow, with the long train of hopes and fears, must needs be under the command of an harmonious pen, whose every line makes a part of the reader's faith, and is the very life or death of his soul.

If the trifling and incredible tales that furnish out a tragedy, are so armed by wit and fancy, as to become sovereign of the rational powers, to triumph over all the affections, and manage our smiles, and our tears at pleasure; how wondrous a conquest might be obtained over a wild world, and reduce it, at least, to sobriety; if the same happy talent were employed in dressing the scenes of religion in their proper figures of majesty, sweetness, and terror? The wonders of Creating Power, of Redeeming Love, and Renewing Grace, ought not to be thus impiously neglected by those whom Heaven has endued with a gift so proper to adorn and cultivate them; an art whose sweet insinuations might almost convey piety in resisting nature, and melt the hardest souls to the love of virtue. The affairs of this life, with their reference to a life to come, would shine bright in a dramatic description; nor is there any need or any reason why we should always borrow the plan or history from

• Cerberus.