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LECTURES  -V 


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THE  SACRED  POETRY 


HEBREWS : 

vmAjnaATBB  rsov  tkb  xatoi  or  tVM 

Bight  Rev.  ROBERT  LOWTH,  D.  D. 

nuucvox  or  fostbt  u  tkb  tmiTsssiTr  or  oxroxi^  avb  jkimwABM 
Mm»  BiMor  ur  uivbov, 

BT  G.  GREGORY*  F.  A.  S. 
Axmom  or  jhmato  bzstobioa£  An  xoBAft. 

THK  FBINCIPAL  NOTES  OF  PROFESSOR  MICHAEUS,  AND 
NOTES  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR  AND  OTHERS. 


mMW^Bt 


mmO  AMD  VOBLfBHMD  BY  JOftfiPH  T.  BUCglWOWAM, 
WUfTEIMTaBBT. 

ISiS. 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE. 


RoBsmT  LowTBf  ion  of  the  tot.  William  Lowtb»  cbapltin  to 
the  biftbop  of  Winchester,  tnd  prebemlaty  of  a  cathedral  church 
in  that  wm^  was  bom  at  Winchester  in  the  year  1710,  whcro 
lie  was  educated  in  grammar  learning  at  the  school  fcmnded  by 
William  of  Wykeham,  in  which  he  acquired  an  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics»  and  made  considerable 
progress  in  oriental  literature.  Even  at  school  he  discovered  a 
poetical  genius,  and  among  other  pieces  which  he  wrote  at  that 
pefiod,  was  a  beautiful  poem  on «  The  Genealogy  of  Christ,'  as  it 
is  represented  on  the  east  window  of  Winchester  college  chapel  { 
and  another,  which  appeared  in  the  twenty-third  volume  of  the 
Gentleman's  Magazine,  entitled  *  Catherine's  Hill,'  the  place 
where  the  Winchester  scholars  are  allowed  to  play  on  holidays. 
In  17S8,  he  was  sent  to  New  college,  Oxford,  of  which  institution 
lie  wa^  elected  a  fellow  in  1734:  took  his  degree  as  M.  A.  in  1737, 
and  was,  in  1 741,  eleaed  professor  of  poetry  in  tlie  university  of  Ox- 
ford* In  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  this  office  he  delivered  his 
<  Prflelectiones'  on  |Iebrcw  poetry  ;  which  work,  entitled  »  Do 
Sacra  Poesi  Hebrseorum  Praelectiones  Acsdemicae,"  he  gave  to 
^e  public  in  1753,  and  a  second  edition  in  1763. 

His  first  preferment  in  the  church  was  the  rectory  of  Ovingdon, 
in  Hampshire»  toi  which  he  was  presented  by  bishop  Hoadly.  In 
1748,  Mr.  howth  accompanied  Mr.  Legge,  afterwards  chancellor 
of  the  exchequer,  to  Berlin,  who  went  to  that  court  in  a  publip 
character,  and  with  whom,  from  his  earliest  years«  he  lived  on 
^rms  of  the  most  iminterrupted  friendship.    In  the  iollowiug  year 


Iv  AUTHOR'S  LIFE. 

lie  undertook  the  charge  of  the  sons  of  the  duke  of  DeTonshire,  m 
travelling  tutor  on  the  continent.  Tbe  duke  was  so  thoroughly 
satisfied  with  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Lowth  in  this  office,  that  he  after- 
irards  proved  his  steady  friend  and  patron.  In  1750  he  was  ap- 
pointed archdeacon  of  Winchester,  and  three  years  after  he  was 
presented  to  the  rectory  of  East  Woodhay,  in  the  county  of  South- 
ampton. 

Jn  the  year  1754,  the  university  of  Oxford  honoured  the  au« 
thor  with  the  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity,  and  in  the  following 
year  be  was  nominated  first  chapiido  to  the  mafquis  of  Uaningtoiii 
lord  lieutcnaDt  of  Ireland.  Thither  he  accompanied  that  noble- 
man, and  was,  in  a  short  time,  offered  the  bishopric  of  Limerick» 
which  however  he  exchanged  for  some  preferment  in  the  county 
of  Durham,  in  his  own  country.  In  17$ 8,  Dr.  Lowth  preached  a 
sermon  atDurbi^m,  on  Free  Enquiry  in  Matters  of  Religion,  which 
has  been  frequently  reptinted. 

In  tbe  same  year  he  published  his  ^  Life  of  Wyk^ha^,  Bifthop 
of  Winchester,'  and  founder  of  the  Mleges  in  which  lie  had  re- 
ceived his  education.  )iis  next  {liece  has  beea  exceedingly  pofx» 
ular  in  our  schoola,  though  no#  generally  superceded  by  a  work 
of  the  same  kind  by  ^r.  Lindiey  Murfiy,  vi^,  ^  Ah  lotroductiofi 
|o  English  Grammar.' 

Passing  over  a  controversy  between  Dr.  Lowth  and  Df.  War« 
burton,  whkh  did  not  rtfieot  much  credit  on  the  angry  tempera 
itf  the  disputants,  we  tnay  observe  that  Dn  Lowth  vraa  elected  k 
fellow  of  the  I^oyal  Society  at  Gotdngen  in  the  year  1765«  and  in 
Ihe  following  year  he  was  promoted  to  the  see  of  St.  David's,  and 
almost  immediately  translated  to  the  bishopric  of  Oxford.  In  thia 
high  office  he  remained  tilt  the  year  1 777,  when  he  iucceedefl 
Dr.  Terrick  in  the  see  of  Londoit.  In  1778  be  published  thb 
last  of  his  literary  labours,  entitled  « Isaiah :  A  new  Translationi 
with  a  preliminary  Dissertation,  and  Notes,  critical,  philological» 
and  expkuiatery.'  His  design,  in  this  workt  was  not  only  to  give 
an  exact  and  faithful  representation  of  the  words  and  sen^  of  tUe 
prophet,  by  adhering  closely  to  the  letter  ctf  the  teit,abd  treading, 
as  nearly  as  noay  be^  in  his  footsveps )  but,  moreover»  to  imitate 
the  air  and  mnnnet  of  the  author,  to  express  the  form  tod  fashiob 
of  the  composition,  and  to  give  the  Engtish  readbr  soiiM  notiicto  6f 
the  peculiar  tura  and  cast  of  the  original. 

}n  1779  the  Wakofi  i^«s  called  ea  to  preAeh  n  eermciD  before  the 


AUTHOR'S  LIFE,  v 

king  at  the  Chapel-royai,  on  Ash- Wednesday,  in  which  he  at- 
tacked the  opponents  to  the  ministerial  system  of  government^ 
among  whom  was  the  celebrated  Dr.  Richard  Price,  who  defend- 
ed himself  with  energy  and  spirit.  In  1781  bishop  Lowth  was 
engaged  in  a  law  suit  with  Lewis  Disney  Ffytche,  Esq.  concern* 
ing  the  legality  of  general  bonds  of  resignation,  which,  if  Dr. 
Towers's  statement  of  the  case  be  at  all  accurate,  was  higlUy  dis* 
creditable  to  his  lordship :  suffice  it  to  say,  that  m  this  case  the 
decisions  of  the  courts  of  law,  almost  unanimously  pronounced, 
were  unexpectedly  reversed  by  the  house  of  lords,  by  a  ma- 
jority of  oncf  and  of  the  members  who  voted  on  this  occasion 
fourteen  were  bishops,  and  as  such  parties  in  their  own  cause^ 
(See  Dr.  Tower's  observations  on  the  Cause  between  the  bishop 
of  London,  and  L.  D.  Ffytche,  Esq.)  In  1783  the  bishop  was  fix- 
ed on  to  succeed  archbishop  Coruwallis,  but  on  account  of  his  ad* 
vanced  age  he  thought  proper  to  decline  the  high  honour  of  the 
archbishopric  of  Canterbury,  In  the  latter  years  of  his  life  he 
endured  i^great  degree  of  suffering  from  that  dreadful  disorder, 
the  atone,  which  he  bore  with  fortitude  and  resignation  to  the  di» 
vine  will.  He  experienced  also  some  of  the  most  painful  strokes 
of  calamities  which  a  father  can  experience,  in  the  loss  of  affec- 
tionate children. 

In  1768  his  eldest  daughter  died  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  of  whom 
he  was  passionately  fond,  and  whose  death  he  deplored  in  the  fol- 
lowuig  exquisitely  beautiful  epitaph,  which  is  inscribed  on  her 
tomb: 

Cars,  Tale,  ingenio  przatans,  pietate,  pudore^ 

Et  plusquam  natae  nomine  cara*  vale. 
Cars  Maria,  vale.    At  veniet  feliciua  aevum 

Quando  iteniin  tecum,  aim  modo  dignos,  ero. 
Cara,  redi,  l«ta  turn  dicam  voce  patemus, 

£js^  <^  in  amplezus,  cara  Maria,  redL 

In  1783,  his  second  daughter,  as  she  was  presiding  at  the  tea-ta- 
ble, suddenly  expired.  His  eldest  son  also,  of  whom  he  was  led 
to  form  the  highest  expectations,  was  hurried  to  the  grave  in  the 
bloom  of  youth.  His  lordship  died  at  Fulham  in  1787«  having 
nearly  completed  the  77th  year  of  his  age.  Of  bishop  Lowth's 
extenuve  learning,  fine  taste,  and  peculiar  qualifications  for  the 
station  which  he  filled,  he  has  left  abundant  proofs.  While  his 
amiable  manners  rendered  him  an  ornament  to  the  high  rank  in 
B 


Ti  AUTHOR'S  LIFE- 

which  he  moved,  and  endeared  bim  to  all  with  whom  he  eonTers- 
edj  his  zeal  for  the  established  religion  of  the  country  made  him 
anxious  to  promote  to  places  of  trust  and  dignity  such  clergjrrocii 
as  he  knew  were  best  qualified  to  fill  them.  He  united,  in  an  em- 
inent degree,  the  qualities  of  the  gentleman  with  those  of  the 
scholar :  he  conversed  with  elegance,  as  he  wrote  with  accuracy. 
His  heart  was  tender  and  sympathetic.  He  possessed  a  mind 
which  felt  its  own  strength,  and  decided  on  whatever  came  be» 
fore  it  with  promptitude.  In  those  trials  where  affliction  was  to 
be  suffered  or  subdued  he  behaved  as  a  man  and  a  Christian* 
His  piety  had  no  tincture  of  moroseness  ;  his  charity  no  leaven  of 
ostentation.  The  bishop  was  author  of  some  sermons,  preached 
on  particular  occasions,  and  of  many  poetical  pieces,  some  of 
which  have  been  frequently  reprinted  ;  the  titles  of  which  will  be 
found  in  the  General  Biography.     Ree9*9  Cyclopedia. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 


It  may  oot  be  improper  to  apprise  tlie  pobUc,  that  «llheogh  tbe 
fblleiwiDg  Lectures  be  eotitled  Lectures  on  the  Hebrew  Poetrft 
tbeir  utility  is  by  no  meaiw  confined  to  that  single  object.  Tbqr 
embrace  all  ths  orsat  frivgiflss  or  objisral  CRXTiciSMf  as 
delivered  by  the  ancients^  improfed  by  the  keen  judgement  and 
polished  taste  of  tbeir  author.  In  other  wordsy  this  work  will  be 
Sound  an  escellent  compendium  of  ail  the  best  rules  of  taste,  and 
of  all  the  principles  of  composition,  illustrated  by  the  boldest  and 
most  exalted  specimens  of  genius  (if  no  higher  title  be  allowed 
them)  which  antiquity  has  transmitted  to  us :  and  which  have  hith- 
erto seldom  fallen  under  the  inspection  of  rational  criticism- 

Lest,  from  the  title  of  the  work,  or  from  the  cuvumstance  of  be- 
ing originally  published  in  a  learned  language,  a  prejudice  shouM 
arise  in  the  breast  of  anf  individual,  that  these  Lectures  are  ad« 
dressed  only  to  the  learned,  1  thbk  it  a  duty  to  anticipate  a  mis- 
apprehension which  might  interfere  both  with  bis  entertainment 
and  instruction.  The  greatest  as  well  as  the  most  useful  works 
of  taste  and  literature,  are  those^  which,  with  respect  at  least  to 
their  general  scope  and  design,  lie  most  level  to  the  common  sense 
of  mankmd.  Though  the  learning  and  genius  displayed  in  the 
following  Lectures  must  ever  excite  our  warmest  admiration ; 
though  they  abound  in  curious  researches,  and  in  refined  and  ex- 
quisite  observations ;  though  the  splendour  oS  the  sentiments  and 
the  elegance  of  the  style  will  necessarily  captivate  the  eye  and  the 
ear  of  the  classical  reader;  the  truthis,THAT  thst  arb  mors  cal* 

CULATBO  VOR  PBRSOMS  OF  TASTS  AMD  ORMKRAI.  READING»  THAN 
FOR  WHAT  IS  COmiOHLT  TBRMBD  THB  I.RARNBD  WORLD.      HcrO 

are  few  nice  philological  disquisitions,  no  abstruse  meuphysical 
speculations ;  our  author  has  built  solely  upon  the  basis  of  com- 
mon  sense,  and  1  know  no  part  of  his  work,  which  will  not  be  iiH* 
telligible  and  useful  to  almost  every  understanding. 

A  still  greater  mistake  it  would  be,  to  suppose  any  knowledge 
of  the  Hebrew  necessary  to  enable  us  to  read  these  Lectures  with 
profit  and  pleasure.  Se  happily  does  the  simple  genius  of  the 
Hebrew  language  accord  with  our  own ;  and  so  excellent  a  trans- 
cript of  the  original  (notwithstanding  a  few  errors)  is  our  common 
translation  of  the  Scriptures ;  so  completely,  so  minutely,  I  might 
aay,  does  it  represent  the  style  and  character  of  the  Hebrew  writ- 
ingsi  that  no  person,  who  is  conversant  with  it,  can  be  at  all  at  a 


▼iii  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

loss  in  applying  all  the  criticisms  of  otir  author.  On  this  account 
I  will  venture  to  assert,  that  if  the  genius  of  the  translator  ap- 
proached in  any  degree  the  clearness,  the  elegance,  the  elevation 
of  the  author,  these  Lectures  in  our  own  language  would  exhibit 
the  subject  in  a  much  fairer  and  more  advantageous  light,  than  in 
the  original  form.  The  English  idiom,  indeed,  has  so  much  greats 
cr  analogy  to  the  Hebrew,  that  the  advantages,  which  it  posstssei 
over  the  Latin,  must  be  obvious  to  any  reader  who  compares  the 
literal  translations  in  each  of  these  languages. 

But  the  utility  of  these  Lectures,  as  a  system  of  criticism,  is  per* 
haps  their  smallest  n)erii.  They  teach  us  not  only  taste  but  vir-t 
tue  ;  not  only  to  admire  and  revere  the  Sciiptuies,  but  to  profit 
by  their  precepts.  The  author  of  the  present  work  is  not  to  be 
considered  merely  as  a  master  of  the  general  principles  of  critic 
cism  ;  he  has  penetrated  the  very  sanctuaries  of  Ut  brew  litera* 
ture  ;  he  has  investigated  with  a  degree  of  precision,  which  few 
critics  have  attained,  the  very  nature  and  ct^aracier  of  their  com* 
position  :  by  accurately  cxammiii)?,  and  cautiously  comparing  ev- 
eiy  part  of  the  sacred  writings ;  by  a  force  of  genius,  which  could 
enter  imo  the  very  design  of  the  authors ;  and  by  a  comprehen- 
siveness of  mind,  which  could  embrace  at  a  single  view  a  vast  se- 
ries of  corresponding  passages,  he  has  discovered  the  manner,  the 
spirit,  the  idiom  of  the  original,  and  has  laid  down  such  axioms  as 
cannot  fail  greatly  to  iaciliiate  our  knowUdge  and  understanding 
of  the  Scriptures.  The  woiK  would  amply  ripay  the  trouble  of 
perusing  it,  by  the  exr«hent  elucidations  of  particular  passages  of 
holy  writ  which  it  afionis  ;  but,  when  we  reflect  that  these  are 
connected  with  such  rules  and  prii.cipUs  as  may  be  applied  with 
the  greatest  advantage  to  other  difiiiult  passages,  with  such  rules, 
indeed,  as  will  enable  us  better  to  comprehend  the  whole,  surely 
it  must  appear  inestimahle  in  the  eye  of  any  man,  who  has  at  all 
at  heart  his  own  improvement  in  religious  knowledge.  Perhapa 
the  sceptic  may  learn  from  the  perusal  of  thesr  Lectures,  thai  the 
difficulties  of  which  he  complains  in  the  Scriptures,  are  diiiiculiies 
which  might  in  some  measure  be  removed  by  a  little  more  knowl- 
edge, and  a  little  more  diligence  in  the  application  of  it.  Perhaps, 
too,  those  profound  and  Uarned  critics^  wl  o  quote  and  censure 
authors,  whom  they  have  never  read,  and  talk  fluently  about  lan- 
guages, the  rudiments  of  which  they  have  yet  to  learn,  may  find, 
to  thtir  great  astonishment,  that  a  degree  of  penetration  superior 
to  their  own  is  able  to  discover  at  least  a  few  rays  of  sublimity  in 
the  writings  of  the  Pkhrews. 

Whatever  be  the  merits  or  the  defects  of  this  translation,  on  one 
account  at  least  1  will  venture  to  promise  mjselt  the  warmest 
commendations  of  my  reaflers,  namely,  for  having  made  them  ac- 
quainted «rith  the  admirable  criticisms  of  the  learned  Michaelia. 
I  have  much  reason  to  regict,  that  the  nature  of  this  publication 
would  not  permit  the  insertion  of  all  his  observations,  and  at  full 
length.  But  the  ti  uth  is,  however  suitable  they  may  have  been  to 
the  work  in  its  original  form,  seme  of  his  remarks  are  too  refined 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE.  ix 

to  be  [^nerally  useful ;  and  sonie  of  them  too  learned  to  be  intel- 
Ugible  to  any,  but  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  whole  circle  of 
Oriental  literature.  1  have  therefore  selected  such  of  them  as  I 
thoug^ht  applicable  to  my  present  purpose ;  and,  as  it  was  my  wish 
to  confine  this  work  within  as  narrow  limits  as  my  duty  to  the  pub- 
lic would  permitf  and  to  suffer  in  it  notLing,  but  what  i  esteemed 
immediately  useful,  I  have  Uken  the  liberty  of  abridging  some» 
wittch  i  thought  in  a  literal  translation  might  appear  tedious  to 
the  English  reader. 

Some  observations  of  my  own  I  have  also  presumed  to  introduce 
among  the  notes.  They  were  such  as  to  me  seemed  calculated 
to  render  the  work  a  more  complete  compendium  of  critical  sci- 
ence. As  I  do  not,  however,  think  myself  above  censure,  so  I 
trust  I  shall  not  be  found  too  obstinate  for  correction.  Should  my 
indiscretion,  therefore,  have  obtruded  any  thing  which  a  fair  and 
liberal  critic  shall  deem  impertinent  or  improper,  I  shall  with 
much  cheerfulness,  in  a  future  edition,  submit  to  its  erasement. 

It  was  not  till  I  had  consulted  some  of  the  first  literary  charac* 
actcrs  concerning  the  propriety  of  substituting  in  the  place  of  our 
author's  inimitable  Latin  poems  any  English  versions,  that  i  ven* 
tunsd  to  appear  as  a  poetical  translator.  Even  then  1  did  not  fail 
to  inspect  every  modern  author,  who  I  imagined  might  furnish  me 
with  compositions  worthy  of  appearing  among  the  criticisms  of 
Lowth.  I  have  prtierred  Mr.  Merrick's  Psalms  to  any  version 
which  1  should  have-  been  able  to  produce,  (except,  indeed,  in  a 
sungle  instance,  where  it  was  necessary  that  the  measure  should 
beelegtac)  notonly  on  account  of  their  intrinsic  merit,  but  inconse- 
quence of  the  commendation  which  our  author  has  bestowed  upon 
them.  By  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Mason  also,  this  publication  is  en- 
riched with  one  of  the  most  beautiful  lyric  productions  in  our  lan^ 
guage,  1  mean  bis  paraphrase  of  the  zivth  of  Isaiah.  When  I 
could  find  no  translation  to  answer  my  purpose,  I  was  obliged  to 
attempt  the  versification  of  the  passages  myself.  The  public  will 
therefore  recollect,  that  |  was  a  poet  through  necessity,  not 
choice ;  and  will,  I  flatter  myself,  receive  this  as  a  sufficient 
apology  for  the  indifferent  performance  of  that  part  of  my  under- 
taking. 

Presuming  that  it  would  be  more  agreeable  to  give  the  literal 
translations  of  the  Hebrew  from  works  of  established  reputation, 
I  have  taken  many  of  them  from  our  author's  excellent  version  of 
Isaiah,  from  Mr.  Blaney's  Jeremiah,  from  Bishop  Newcombe's 
Minor  Prophets,  Mr.  Heath's  Job,  and  from  Dr.  Hodgson's  trans- 
lation of  the  Canticles  :  and  this  I  trust  will  be  accepted  by  those 
Gentlemen  as  a  general  acknowledgment.  Where  these  did  not 
furnish  me  with  a  translation,  1  have  endeavoured  myself  to  pro- 
duce one  as  faithiul  to  the  original  as  my  knowledge  of  the  Ian*? 
guage  would  admit. 

Convinced  on  the  whole  of  the  utility  of  this  publication,  and 
yet  aware  of  my  own  inability  to  do  it  justice,  1  dismiss  it  with 
that  mixed  emotion  of  confidence  and  humility,  which  such  a  siti 


X  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

nation  naturally  bspirei.  Imperfect  as  it  appears  before  tliei 
irorld,  if  it  be  the  means  of  imparting  to  but  a  few  some  of  that 
information,  which  all  who  read  the  original  must  regret  was  nol 
more  generally  diffused,  I  am  sure  I  shall  have  desenred  well  of 
the  community  i  at  the  same  time,  the  reader  will  do  me  great  in* 
justice,  if  he  supposes  that  I  have  satisfied  myself  in  the  execution 
of  my  task.  Whatever  be  its  reception*  it  will  disappoint  no  ex- 
pectations formed  by  me  ot  profit  or  of  £sme  ;  and  if  neither  en« 
sue  from  it,  I  shall  have  no  just  cause  of  complaint.  It  was  im- 
possible to  read  these  Lectures  with  the  attention  which  even  this 
translation  required,  and  not  derive  advantages  from  them  far  su- 
perior to  the  labour  they  have  cost  me  ;  and  whatever  may  b« 
their  effect  with  others,  I  am  confident  they  have  left  roc  some- 
thing wiser,  and  I  trust  something  better,  than  they  found  me. 

In  the  prosecution  of  this  work  I  have. incurred  a  debt  of  grati- 
tude, which  if  I  cannot  discharge,  it  is  but  fair  to  acknowledge^ 
By  the  advice  and  encouragement  of  Dr.  Kippis,  I  was  in  a  great 
measure  induced  to  undertake  this  translation  ;  by  a  continuance 
of  the  same  friendly  disposition  I  was  enabled  cheerfully  to  pro- 
ceed in  it.  The  public  will  easily  perceive  a  part  of  their  obliga- 
tion and  mine  to  the  ingenious  Mr.  Henley  of  Rendlesham,  in  the 
numerous  and  valuable  notes  which  bear  his  signature  ;  but  I  am 
also  indebted  to  him  for  many  corrections.  These  are  not  the 
only  friends  to  whom  I  have  been  obliged  on  this  occasion  :  I  will 
venture  to  menuon  in  particular  Mr.  Wakefield  of  Ndttingham,  a 
name  sufficiently  known  in  the  classical  world  ;  and  Mr.  Foster 
of  Woolton*  near  Liverpool,  whose  careful  and  laborious  jevisiQii 
of  my  manuscript  is  the  least  of  the  many  favours  he  has  conferred 
upon  me.  To  this  companion  of  my  youth,  I  can  indeed  with  the 
strictest  propriety  apply  the  language  of  the  Roman  poet : 

**  Tecum  ctenim  longog  memini  canBomere  soles» 

**  Et  tecum  primas  epulis  decerpere  noctes. 

*'  Unum  opus,  k  requiem  pariter  disponimus  «mbo  : 

*'  Atque  verecunda  laxamus  seria  mensa. 

'*  Hon  equidem  hoc  dubitea,  amborum  foedere  certo 

'*  Consentire  diea  &  ab  uno  sidere  ducL 

**  Nostra  vel  squali  suspendit  tempora  libra 

"  Parca  tenax  veri  :  seu  nata  fidelibus  hora 

"  Diyidit  in  geminos  concordia  fata  duorum  : 

"  Satumumque  gravem  nostro  Jove  irang^mus  una. 

**  Nescio,  quod  certe  est,  quod  me  tibi  temperat  astnim.^ 

Jmbm  tevec  Tamee^ 

BnekiiiKlMin  Gai^ 

Mar^  1,1787. 

*«*  The  Author's  Kotes  are  all  particularly  distinflniiahed.  Those  mark^ 
ed  M.  are  by  Professor  Mlchaelis ;  tliose  marked  S.  H.  are  by  Mr.  Henley; 
and  tJiosc  marked  T.  bv  the  Translator. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE,         | 

PREFIXED  TO  THE  SECOND  EDTTIOM. 

I  SHALL  eDde»TOur  in  a  few  words  to  explain  the  additions  an4 
issproTementSi  which  have  been  made  to  this  edition. 

I  have  reyised  the  whole  work ;  I  have  added  some  things,  t 
have  corrected  many ;  and  especially  in  the  notes.  I  have  how- 
ever refruned  from  all  corrections  which  did  not  appear  absolutelf 
necessary.  If  any  reader  should  object,  that  many  passages  re* 
main,  which  might  be  amended,  as  being  scarcely  established  up« 
00  the  grounds  of  certainty  and  conviction  ;  I  have  only  to  urge 
in  my  own  defence,  thai  on  very  obscure  and  difficult  subjects,  it 
has  always  appeared  to  me  sufficient  to  propose  a  probable  expli- 
cation  t  nor  can  I  esteem  that  to  be  correction,  which  only  substi- 
totes  one  conjecture  for  another. 

In  other  respects  this  edition  has  received  considerable  improve- 
ments. In  the  first  place  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  the  friendly 
communications  of  the  learned  Dr.  Kennicott,  for  the  variations  of 
the  different  copies  in  several  passages  of  the  Old  Testament, 
which  I  have  quoted.  I  have  distinguished  his  notes  by  inverted 
commas,  and  by  the  letter  K.  subjoined»  The  manuscripts  are 
numbered  according  to  the  catalogue  annexed  to  that  learned  au- 
thor's dissertation  on  the  Hebrew  text.^  I  have,  moreover,  added 
some  obVrvations  of  the  learned  Dr.  Hunt,  professor  of  the  He* 
brew  and  Arabic  languages,  which  he  kindly  communicated  at 
my  requesr~These  also  I  have  distinguished  by  inverted  commas^ 
and  the  letter  H.  subjoined. 

After  this  edition  was  committed  to  the  press,  I  was  favoured 
with  a  sight  of  the  Gottingen  edition,  published  under  the  inspec* 

1  In  the  third  edition,  the  manuscript  copies  are  not  cited  according  to 
these  numbers»  which  axe  necessarily  changed  in  the  Bible  published  bj 
Dr.  K.  but  it  is  only  mentioned  in  how  many  manuscripts  the  different  read- 
ing oocun.    Some  different  readings  also  are  cited  at  large. 


xu  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

tion  of  the  learned  and  ingenious  professor  of  philosophy  in  that 
university,  John  David  Michaelis,  and  greatly  improved  and  illus- 
trated by  him.  To  this  were  added  his  notes  and  additions,  in 
which  he  has  with  great  candour  supplied  my  defects,  and  cor« 
rected  my  errors.  These,  with  the  preface  entire,  and  with  a  few 
additions  to  the  notes,  communicated  to  roe  by  the  author,  (who 
would  have  added  more,  but  that  he  was  prevented  by  the  increas- 
ing business  of  the  university)  I  have  printed  in  a  separate  volume, 
lest  my  readers  should  be  deprived  of  these  very  learned  and  ex- 
cellent illustrations :  and  1  chose  to  do  it  in  a  separate  state,  that 
the  purchasers  of  the  first  edition  might  partake  equally  of  the 
benefit.  Whatever  some  of  these  notes  may  contain  repugnant 
to  my  own  sentiments,  I  have  thought  it  better  to  submit  them  in 
this  form  to  the  judgement  of  the  reader,  than,  by  retracing  my 
former  ground,  to  divert  hb  attention  into  a  controversy,  unpleas- 
ant, and  probably  fruitless. 


CONTENTS- 


LECTURE  I. 

OF  THE  U8£S  AND  DESIGN  OF  POBTRY. 

"THS  purpose  of  poetry  is  to  instruct  while  it  elves  pleasure;  instruotioa 
benup  the  end,  and  pleasure  the  means— Illustrated  by  examples  from 
the  £flrerent  species  of  poetry— >The  Didactic— The  Epic— Tragedy— Lyr- 
ic— ^Tbe  lighter  kinds  of  poetry»  which  are  calculated  as  well  for  the  a- 
■lusement  of  our  leisure  as  for  the  ornament  and  improyement  of  Utera- 
•  tore— Saered  «poetry ;   whence  a  transition  to  the  immediate  object  of 

•    these  Lectures,  Page  3 

LECTURE  IL 

THE  DESIGN  AND  ABRANGEMENT  OF  THESE  LECTURES. 

The  dignity  of  the  subject,  and  its  suitableness  to  the  design  of  the  insti- 
tution—That poetry  which  proceeds  from  divine  inspiration  is  not  be- 
yond the  provmce  of  criticism— Criticism  will  enable  us  to  account  for 
the  origin  of  the  art,  as  Well  as  to  form  a  just  estimation  of  its  dignity ; 
that  the  opinion  of  the  divine  origin  of  poetry  was  common  in  Greece— 
This  work  purely  critical :  and  consequently  theological  disquisitions 
will  be  avoided— The  general  distribution  of  the  subject  into  three  parts, 
the  nature  of  the  verse,  the  style,  and  the  arrangement,  29 

THE  FIRST  PART. 

OF  THE  HEBREW  METRE. 

LECTURE  IIL 

THE  HEBBEW  POETBY  IS  BfETRICAL. 

The  necessity  of  inquiring  into  the  nature  of  the  Hebrew  verse— The  He- 
brew poetry  proved  to  be  metrical  from  the  alphabetical  poemsi  and 
from  the  equality  and  correspondence  of  the  sentiments ;  also  from  the 
poetical  diction---Some  of  the  most  obvious  properties  of  the  verse— 
The  rhythm  and  mode  of  scanning  totally  lost :  proved  from  facts— The 
poetical  conformation  of  the  sentences — ^The  Greek  and  Latin  poetry 
materially  different  from  the  Hebrew,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  lan- 
guages— Hence  a  peouliar  property  in  the  prose  versioilsr  of  the  Hebrew 
poe^,  and  the  attempts  to  exhibit  this  poetry  in  the  verse  of  other  lan- 
guag»«t  38 

THE  SECOND  PART. 

OF  THE  PARABOLIC  OR  POETICAL  STYLE  OF  THE  HEBREWS, 
LECTURE  IV. 

THE  OBIGIN,  USE,  AND  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  PARABOL- 
IC,  AND  ALSO  OF  THE  SENTENTIOUS  STTLE, 

The  pottle  style  of  the  Hebrews  bears  the  general  title  of  Paro^o^'o— Its 
cofisthoent  principles  are  the  sententious,  the  fi^^iirative,  and  the  su- 
blime—The  source  of  the  Parabolic  style  and  its  original  use :  among  oth- 
er nations ;  among  the  Hebrews — Certain  examples  of  it  preserved  from 
the  first  ages  in  the  writings  of  Moses— L  The  sententious  kind ;  its 
nature  and  effects,  49 

LECTURE  V. 

OF  THE  FIGURATIVE  STYLE,  AND  ITS  DIVISIONS. 

II.  The  F^^ative  Style;  to  be  trested  rather  according  to  the  genius  vf 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

the  Hebrew  poetry,  than  according^  to  the  forms  ind  airangenentB  «T 
rhetoricians — ^The  definition  and  constituent  parts  of  the  Fijfurative 
Style,  Mbtaphoii,  AbLsooRT,  Coxparisoh,  pBRsoKincATioir — ^The  rea- 
son of  this  mode  of  treating  the  subject :  difficulties  in  reading  the  He- 
brew poetry,  which  result  from  the  Figurative  Style ;  how  to  be  avoided. 
1.  Of  the  Metaphor,  including  a  general  disquisition  concerning  poetic 
imagery :  the  nature  of  which  Is  explained  ;  and  four  principal  source» 
pointed  out :  Ifature,  Common.  life.  Religion,  History,  66 

LECTURE  VI. 

OF  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  THE  OBJECT»  OP  NATURE. 

Tlie  frequent  use  of  the  Metaphor  renders  a  style  magnifioent,  but  oftoi 
obscure :  the  Hebrew  poets  hare  accomplished  the  sublime  without  los* 
ing  perspicuity— Three  causes  assigned  for  thib  singular  fact :  first,  tiie 
im^^ry  which  tliey  introduce  is  in  general  derived  from  familiar  ob- 
jects :  again,  in  the  use  and  accommodation  of  it  they  pursue  a  certain 
custom  and  analogy  :  lastly,  they  make  the  most  free  use  of  that  which 
is  most  familiar,  and  the  nature  and  extent  of  which  is  most  generally 
ktfiown— -These  observstions  confirmed  by  exwnples  (1.)  from  natural  ob- 
jects» :  such  as  are  common  to  mankind  in  generu ;  such  as  are  more 
famiHar  to  the  Hebrews  than  to  others ;  and  such  as  are  j>eculiar  to 
them,  76 

LECTURE  VII. 
OP  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  COMMON  LIFE. 

Examples  of  poetical  imagery  from  common  life — The  habits  of  Ufe  ex- 
tremely simple  among  the  Hebrews,  whose  prtncipaJ  employments  were 
agriculture  and  pasturage— The  dignity  cxf  these  employments ;  and  Ihe 
splendour  of  the  imagery  which  is  borrowed  from  them :  Threshio|^,. 
and  the  threshinj^  instrument*— The  sublimity  of  the  imagery  which  is 
taken  from  familiar' objects  results  from  its  propriety — ^Tne  poetic  hell 
of  the  Hebrews  explained  i  the  imagery  of  which  is  borrowed  from  their 
subterraneous  nepolcbre»  and  ituieral  nte9t  90 

LECTURE  VUI. 

OP  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  SACRED  TOPICS, 

Imagery*  which  is  borrowed  from  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  religion,  pe- 
culiarly liable  to  obscurity  and  mistake — ^Instances  of  expressions,  which 
appear  uncommonly  harsl);  and  of  others,  the  principal  eleg^ce  of 
which  woul(l  be  lost,  unless  we  adverted  to  the  nature  of  the  sacred 
rites— The  exordium  of  the  hundred  and  fourth  Psalm  explained,      104 

LECTURE  IX. 

OF  POETTIC  IMAGERY  FROM  THE  SACRED  HISTORY. 

The  imagery  from  the  sacred  history  is  the  most  luminous  and  evident  of 
all^T^e  peculiar  nature  of  this  kind  of  metaphor  expl^ned,  as  upsed  br 
the  Hebrew  poets— The  order  of  the  topics  which  commonly  fumish 
them  :  the  Ch«os  and  Creation  ;  the  Deluge ;  the  destruction  of  Sodom  ; 
the  emigration  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt ;  the  descent  of  Oodiipoii 
Mount  Sinah—This  species  of  metaphor  excellently  adapted  to  the  sa- 
cred poetiy,  and  particulsrly  to  the  prophetic  i  not  easy  to  ibrm  any 
comparison  betwieen  the  sacred  and  |»t}|ane  poetry  in  this  vespect,     115 

LECTURE  X. 
OF  ALLEGORY. 
Three  fi»rms  of  Allegory  :  1.  Continued  Metaphor.;  which  is  seareely 
worth  distinguishing  fronj  the  simple  Metaphor— The  freedom  ofUv 
Hebrews  in  confounding  the.  forms  of  the  Metaphor,  Allegory,  and 
Compnrison  :  a  more  perfect  form  also  of  Allegory  instanced — 2«^  The 
Parable  ;  and  its  principal  charatteristics  :  that  it  ought  to  be  fblnMd 


CONTENTS^  «V 

k  an  J4>t  and  wcU-laiown  image,  the  significaiion  of  which  is  ohirkMlft 
^od  definite ;  alao  irum  one  whicAi  is  elegani  und  beautiful  i  that  its 
pMits  and  a^}^^^^'  ^  perspicuous,  and  conduce  to  the  main  object ; 
that  it  be  consistent,  and  must  not  confound  tJUe  literul  and  figurative 
meaning— The  Parables  of  the  Prophets,  and  particularly  of  Ezekiel» 
examined  according  to  this  standard,  133 

LECTURE  XI. 
OF  THE  MYSTICAL  AlXSGORl^L 
The  definition  of  the  Mystical  AUe^ry— Founded  upon  th«  «U^goncal  or 
typical  nature  of  the  Jewish  religion — The  distinction  between  this  and 
the  two  former  «ipecies  of  allegoi^' ;  in  the  nature  of  the  materials  :  it 
being  allowable  in  the  former  to  m<ike  use  of  imageiy  from  indiffcreot 
objects  i  in  this,  only  such  as  is  derived  from  things  sacred»  or  their  qi- 
posites  ;  in  the  (brmerj  the  exterior  image  has  no  foundation  in  truth ; 
jn  the  latter,  both  images  are  equally  true — The  diiTereace  in  the  form 
or  manner  of  treating  Uiem— The  most  beautiful  form  is  when  the  cor- 
responding images  run  parallel  throu|^h  the  whole  poem,  and  jnutually 
illustrate  each  others— Examples  of  this  in  the  second  and  seventy-second 
Psalms — TUe.par^ibolic  style  admirably  adapted  to  this  species  of  allegory ; 
the  nature  of  which  renders  it  the  language  most  proper  for  prophecy — 
Extremely  dark  in  itseli^  bwt  it  is  graduid^  cleared  up  by  the  series  of 
«venu  foretold,  and  more  complete  revelation  ;  tune  also,  which  in  the 
general  obscures,  cvAtriliateB  td  its  fUU  explanalipn*  146 

LECTURE  XII. 

OF  THE  COMPARISON. 

Comparisons  are  introduced  ibr  three  purposes  i  illustration,  amplification, 
and  yarietyw.por  the  &'st  an  knage  is  requisite»  apt,  well^nown,  and 
perspicuous ;  it  is  of  little  consequence  whether  It  be  sublime  or  beauti- 
iul,  or  neither  j  hence  comparisons  from  objects  which  are  in  themselvea 
mean  and  bumble  may  be  sometimes  useful— For  the  purpose  of  amplifi- 
cation an  imi^  is  requisite  which  is  sublime  or  beautiful,  even  though 
it  should  lie  less  apt  and  perspicuous  :  and  on  this  plea  a  degree  of  ob- 
scurity, or  a  remotenest  in  the  resembtanee,  oiay  sometimes  be  excused 
— When  variety  is  the  object,  sipleiidid»  benuti^  aad  elegant  iroager|r 
must  be  soifght  for ;  and  which  has  an  apt  sf^reement  with  the  object  of 
the  comparison  in  the  circumstances  or  adjuncts,  though  tlie  objects 
themselves  may  be  different  in  kind— The  most  perfect  comparison  is 
that,  in  which  all  these  excellencies  are  united — ^The  peculiar  form  of 
comparisons  in  the  Hebrew  poetry ;  it  nesults  from  the  nature  of  the 
sententious  style — ^Thev  are  short,  frequent,  simple,  depending  often  on 
a  single  attribute-^-Different  imi^s  displayed  in  the  parallel  sentences  j 
many  comparisons  are  arranged  in  this  manner  to  illustrate  the  same 
subject ;  or  different  attributes  of  the  same  comparison  are  often  dis- 
tributed  in  the  di&rent  divisions  or  parallelisms,  ISS 

LECTURE  XIII. 
OF  THE  PROdOfPOPfEtA,  OB  PEtlSOKIFICATION. 
Tvo  kinds  of  Bevsonlficattcm  :  when  a  character  is  assigned  to  fictitious  pv 
inanimate  objects,  and  when  a  probable  speech  is  attributed  to  a  neal  per^ 
son — Of  fictitious  and  inanimate  characters  i  of  real  characters— The 
Prosopopceia  of  the  mother  of  Sisera  (in  the  song  of  Deborah)  explained : 
also  the  triumphal  song  of  the  Israelites  oonoeming  the  death  of  the 
king  of  Babylon,  (in  Isaiah)  which  consists  altogether  of  this  figure,  and 
exhibits  it  in  all  its  difierent  form?,  1^3 

LECTURE  XIV. 
OF  THE  SUBUME  IN   GENERAL,  AND   OF   SUBLIMITY  OP  EjX- 

PRESSION  IN  PAKTICULAR. 
ilL  In  what  manner  tlie  word  Mathal  implies  the  idea  of  Sublimity— Sub> 


xn  CONTENTS. 

*  limity  of  languiffe'and  sentiment— On  what  account  the  poetic  diction  of 
the  Hebtews,  cither  considered  in  itself,  or  compared  with  prose  compo- 
aition,  merits  an  appellation  expressive  of  sublimity— The  sublimity  of 
the  poetic  diction  arises  from  the  .passions — How  far  the  poetic  diction 
differs  from  prose  amon^  the  Hebrews— Certain  forms  of  poetic  diction 
and  construction  exemplified  from  Job,  chap.  lii.  186 

LECTURE    XV. 

OP  SUBLIMITY  OP  EXPRESSION. 

The  character  of  t1>e  Poetic  Dialect  further  illustrated  by  examples  of 
different 'kinds  from  the  Song*  of  Moses,  Deut.  xxxti. — The  frequent  and 
sudden  transition  from  one  person  to  another  ;  its  cause  and  effects— 
The  use  of  the  Tenses  in  sr  manner  quite  different  from  common  langfuage  : 
the  reasons  of  this — The  Hebrew  language  peculiar  in  this  respect — ^The 
future  is  often  spoken  of  in  the  perfect  present,  and  the  past  in  the  fu- 
ture Tense  ;  the  reason  of  the  former  easy  to  be  explained  ;  the  latter 
is  a  matter  of  considerable  difficulty,  which  neither  the  Commentators» 
the  Translators,  nor  even  the  Grammarians  hare  elucidated — Some  6x- 

'  amples  of  this,  and  the  explanation  of  them— The  frequent  use  of  this 
form  of  construction  may  be  considered  as  characterbticai  of  tlie  Po- 
etic Dialect,  -    199 

LECTURE  XVI. 

OF  SUBUMITY  pF  SENTIMENT. 

Sublimity  of  sentiment  arises^  either  from  eleiial&on  of  mind,  or  from  some 
vehement  passion ;  in  etcb,  it  ia  either  nati^al^/qr  the  effect  of  divine  in- 
spiration— Elevation  of  mind  is  displayed  in  the  greatness  of  the  subject, 
the  adjuncts,  and  the  imagery*-ExampIes  from  the  descriptions  of  the* 
Divine  Majesty ;  of  the  works  and  attributes  of  the  Deity  ;  also  from 
the  display  of  the  Di^^ine  Power  in  the  form  of  Interrogation  and  Irony— 

'  Tlie  Hebrew  poets  attribute  the  human  passions  to  the  Peity  without  de- 
parting from  sublimity  j  and  that  frequently  when  the  Imagery  appears 
least  consistent  with  the  Divine  Majesty :  the  reason  of  this,  21^ 

LECTURE    XVII. 

OP  THE  SUBLIME  OF  PASSION.  .      - 

$uMimity  of  sentiment  as  arising  fi*om  the  vehement  affections  of  tiiemind 
— What  is  commonly  called  Enthusiasm  is  thfe  natural  effect  of  passion : 
the  true  Entlmsiasm  arises  from  the  impulse  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  and  is 
peculiar  to  the  sacred  poets — The  prijicipal  force'  of  poetry  is  displayed 
m  the  expression  of  passion :  in  exciting  the  passions  poetry  best  a- 
chicves  its  purpose,  whether* it  be  utility  or  pleasure— How  the  passions 
are  excited  to  the  pui'pose  of  utility  ;  how  to  that  of  pleasure— The  dif- 
ference and  connection  between  the  pathetic  and  the  sublime— That  sub- 
Ihnity,  which  in  the  sacred  poetry  proceeds  from  the  imitation  of  the 
passions  of  admiration,  of  joy,' indignation,  grief,  and  terror;  illustrated 
by  examples,  '  •        .   .  225 

THE  THIRD  PART. 

OF  THE  DIFPEttENT   SPECIES    OF    POETRY  EXTANT  IN   THil 

WRFTINiGS  OF  THE  HEHUEWS— OF  PROPHETIC  POETRY. 

LECTURE    XVIU. 
THE  WRITINGS  OV  lim  PROPHETS   ARE   IN   GENERAL  POET- 
ICAL. 
The  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  clnssed  according  to  its  different  characters  ; 
this  mode  of  arr:ingcniv-nt  fcsults  rather  from  tlie  nature  of  the  subject» 
than  from  any  authority  of  the  Hebrews  themselves — ^The  Prophetic 
PoKTHv — The  writii/gs  of  the  proplicts  in  general  poetical  and  metricai" 
—The  opnilon  of  the  modern  Jews  and  of  Jerome  on  this  point  refuted*— 


CONTENTS-  XTii 

In  the  booka  ofihe  prophets,  the  sMiie  evidences  are  found  of  a  metrical 
arrangement  as  in  the  poetical  books  :  in  the  dialect,  the  style,  and  po- 
etical conformation  of  the  sentences-^Obvious  in  respect  to  the  two  tbr- 
Bier  circumstances  ;  the  latter  requires  a  more  minute  investigation^  and 
also  illustration  by  examples — The  intimate  relation  between  Poetry  and 
Prophecy— The  college  of  Prophets ;  a  part  of  whose  discipline  it  was  to 
sing  Hymns  to  the  dinerent  instruments  :  and  tliis  exercise  was  called 
prophecy  :  the  same  word,  tlierefore,  denotes  a  prophet,  a  poet,  and  a 
musician — ^Elisba,'Wheil  about  to  pronounce  the  Oracle  of  (sod,  orders  a 
minstrel  to  be  brought  to  him— Poetry  excellently  adapted  to  the  pur- 
pose of  prophecy^A  review  of  the  most  ancient  predictions  extant  in  the 
historical  books,  which  are  proved  to  be  truly  poetical,  239 

LECTURE  XIX. 

THE  PROPHETIC  POETRY  IS  SENTENTIOUS. 

The  psalmod]^  of  the  Hebrews — The  manner  of  chant'mg  the  hymns  by  al- 
.  tcmate  choirs  :  whence  the  origin  of  the  poetical  construction  of  the 
sentences,  and  that  peculiar  form,  in  which  verses  and  distichs  run  par- 
allel or  correspondent  to  each  other— Three  species  of  parallelism  ;  the 
synooymous,  the  antithetic,  and  the  synthetic  :  examples  of  each,  first 
from  the  books  generally  allowed  to  be  poetical,  and  afterwards  from 
the  wilting  of  Sie  prophets — ^The  sentiments  of  R.  Azarias  considered— 
The  great  importance  of  an  accurate  attention  to  this  poetical  conforma- 
tion St  the  sentences,  •  253 

LECTURE  XX. 

THE    GENERAL   CHARACTERISTICS    OF    THE    PROPHETIC 
POETRY. 

The  whole  of  the  book  of  Danielj  as  well  as  of  Jonah,  are  to  be  excepted  as 
not  poetical,  though  of  the  prophetic  kind ;  also  certain  historical  rela- 
tions inserted  in  the  books  of  the  prophets — Some  poems  occur  in  the 
prophetic  writings,  which  properly  belong  to  the  other  classes  of  poetry 
—The  remainder  constitutes  what  may  be  termed  a  system  or  code  of 
prophetic  poetry— The  character  of  this  species  of  poetry  deduced  from 
the  nature  and  design  of  prophecy  itself— An  example  of  the  true  style 
of  prophetic  poetry  produced  from  Isaiah,  and  explained  :  also  another 
from  the  prophecies  of  Balaam,  translated  into  English  verse,  374 

LECTURE  XXL 
THE  PECUUUIR  CHARACTER  OF  EACH  OF  THE  PROPHETS. 
The  particular  style  and  character  of  the  different  prophets  :  what  parts,  of 
each  of  them  are  poetical,  and  what  otherwise — Nothhig  deserving  of 
notice  of  this  kind  in  the  poetry  of  Greece — In  the  Latin  poetry  the 
fourth  Eclogue  of  Virgil  is  remarkable ;  that  poem  much  mo]3e  obscure 
than  it  is  generally  accounted,  and  has  not  hitherto  beea  properly  ex-* 
plained,  288. 

OF  ELEGIAC  POETRY. 
LECTURE  XXIL 

OF  THE  NATURE  AND  ORIGIN  OF  THE  HEBREW  ELEGY ;  AND 
OF  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH. 

The  nature  and  origpnof  the  Hebrew  Elegy  traced  into  the  solemn  expres- 
sions of  grief  exhibited  in  their  funeral  ceremonies — The  office  and  nine* 
tion  of  professed  mourners  :  the  dirges,  which  were  sung  by  them,  were 
shorty  metrical,  and  sententious  ;  many  of  the  lamentations,  which  are 
extant  in  the  prophets,  were  composed  in  imitation  of  them — ^The  whole 
of  the  Lamenta^ons  of  Jeremiah  constructed  upon  the  same  principle — 
The  general  conduct  and  form  of  that  poem  i  the  natui;e  of  the  verse  k 
the  subject  and  the  style,  31(it 


stiu  CONTENTS. 

LECTURE  XXIIL 
OF  THE  REMAINING  ELEGIES  OF  THE  flBWlEWS. 
Many  poeiDS  of  this  kind  still  extant  in  th«  writings  of  the  Uebrews.- 
coUection  of  Elegies  or  Lamentations  appears  to  oe  lost^-Eleeies  in  Eze- 
kiel.-^Many  passages  in  Job  may  be  accounted  Elegiac. — ^About  a  sev- 
enth part  of  the  book  of  Psalms  consists  of  Elegies.— A  perfect  specimen 
of  ele|^  poetry  from  the  Psalms.— The  Lamentation  ot  David  over  Saul 
and  Jonathan  explained :  attempted  in  English  rencg  332 

OP  DTOACTIC  POETRY. 
LECTURE   XXIV. 

OF  THE  PROVERBS,  OR  DIDACTIC  POETRY  OF  THE  HEBREWS. 

The  ancient  mode  of  instructing  by  Parables  or  Proverbs— The  Proverbs 
of  Solomon :  that  work  consists  of  two  parts ;  the  first,  which  extends 
to  the  ninth  chapter  inclusive,  truly  poetical,  and  most  elegant  in  its 
kind :  the  remainder  of  the  book  consists  of  detached  maxlms.-^Tbe 
principal  characteristics  of  a  Parable  or  Proverb ;  brevity  (which  natnr- 
ally  involves  in  it  some  degree  of  obscurity)  and  elegance— 'Eccleikiastes : 
the  argument,  disposition,  and  style  of  that  work— All  the  alpfbabetieal 
Psalms  of  this  kind,  as  well  as  some  others— The  Wisdom  of  the  son  of 
Sirach,  written  originally  in  Hebrew,  in  imitation  of  the  Proverbs  of  Sol- 
.«roon— The  fidelity  of  the  Greek  translator ;  and  the  ^reat  .elegance  of 
the  work  in  general — ^Tlfe  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  written  onghially  in  Greek, 
and  in  imitation  of  the  Proverbs ;  the  style  and  economy  of  that  book— 
A  n^  translation  of  the  xxivtli  chapter  of  Eccleaiasticusy  -  - .  •  ^5 

OF  LYRIC  POETRY. 

LECTURE    XXV. 

4)F  THE  HEBREW  ODE  IN  GENERAL;  AND  FIRST  OF  THAT 
CLASS,  THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  WHICH  ARE  SWEETNESS 
AND  ELEGANCE. 

l<yric  Poetry  oripnated  from  the  most  jocund  and  pleasing  affections  of 
the  human  mind— The  most  ancient  species  of  poetry,  and  almost  coeval 
with  human  nature  itself-^Particularly  cultivated  by  the  Hebrew»— Tlie 
wanner,  introduced  by  David,  of  singing  their  odes  higfaljr  magnificent— 
The  general  character  of  this  species  of  poetry :  its  principal  distinc- 
tions—The first  character  of  the  Ode,  sweetness— What  passions  and  af- 
fections it  is  intended  to  express :  examples  from  the  Psalms  -  The 
cxxxiiid  Psalm  in  English  verse,  311 

LECTURE   XXVL 

THE  INTERMEDIATE  OR  MIXED  STYLE  OP  THE  HEBREW  ODE. 

The  l^Tic  poetry  of  the  intermediate  or  mixed  style  consists  of  an  union 
of  sweetness  and  sublimity— The  ninety-first  and  eightv-first  Psalms  ex- 
plained and  critically  illustrated— Of  the  digressions  of  the  Hebrew  po- 
ets, also  of  Pindar  ;  not  upon  the  same  principle — A  criticism  upon  the 
seventy-seventh  Psalm— The  nineteenth  Psalm  in  English  verse*         364 

LECTURE  XXVII. 
OF  THE  8UBUME  S1*YLE  OF  THE  HEBREW  ODE. 

The  third  species  of  the  Hebrew  Ode,  the  characteristic  of  which  is  sub- 
limity—This sublimity  results  fix)m  three  sources — From  the  general  form 
and  arrangement  of  the  poem  exemplified  in  the  Ith  and  xxivth  Psalms — 
From  the  greatness  of  the  sentiments  and  the  force  of  the  language — 
The  Ode  of  Moses  on  passing  the  Red  Sea  explained  and  illustrated*- 
Tbe  brevity  of  the  Hebrew  style— The  xxixth  Psahn  in  English  verse, 

378 


CONTENTS*  m 

LECTURE  XXVIIL 
THfi  StTBUME  STYLE  OF  THE  HEBREW  ODE. 
Xk^  sublime  Ode^  in  which  all  the  eonstituents  of  sublimity  formerly  ipt* 
cified  «re  united—- The  prophetic  Ode  of  Moses,  Dxut.  xxxii.— The  tri« 
umphal  Ode  of  Deborah ;  the  Prayer  of  Habakkuk ;  the  Fat^lof  Tyranny, 
being  a  poetical  imitation  of  the  xiyth  chapter  of  Isaiah,  391 

OF  THE  IDTIXIUM  OR  HYMN. 
LECTURE   XXIX. 
OF  THE  IDYLUUM  OF  THE  HEBREWS. 
Besides  ttioae  poems  which  may  be  sinctly  termed  odes,  the  fcneral  ap- 
pellation, which  in  the.  Hebrew  is  equivalent  to  Canticle  or  Sonf^,  in- 
cludes another  species  called  by  the  C^reeks,  the  Idyllium^-The  reason 
«rf'this  name,  and  the  definition  of  the  poem  to  which  it  is  appropriated. 
•«"The  historical  Psalms  in  general  bdong  properly  to  this  elass.^— The 
istercalavy  stansa  and  the  nsture  of  it.— The  elennt  plan  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  hmidred  and  aeyenth  Psalm  explained :  also  the  ixth  chap- 
ter of  Isaiah,  Ter*  8,  to  chap.  z.  ver.  4^— This  passage  a  peHect  specimen 
of  the  Idyllium :  other  examples  of  the  IdyUium  no  fess  perfect  as  to 
style  and  fbiOL^The  Hymn  of  Clcanthes  the  stoic  coBmended.    The 
exaouxtii  Psafan  in  English  verse,  400 

OP  DRAMATIC  POBTHT. 
LECTURE  XXX. 
THE  SONG  OF  SOLOM^f  NOT  A  REGULAR  DRAMA. 
The  Platonic  division  of  Poetry  into  the  narrative,  dramatic,  and  mixed 
kinds,  of  little  use ;  but  deserves  to  be  noticed  on  this  occasion,  as  lead- 
ing to  an  accurate  definition  of  Dramatic  Poetry,  and  clearing  up  the  am- 
biguity in  which  the  term  has  been  involved  by  the  modems-^Two  spe- 
cies pointed  out:  the  lesser,  which  oossesses  only  the  form  of  dialogue, 
without  the  personal  intervention  or  the  poet  %  and  the  greater,  which 
contuns  a  plot  or  fiible— There  are  extant  some  instances  of  the  former 
in  the  writings  of  the  Hebrews  s  but  none  of  their  productions  seem  to 
have  the  least  title  to  the  latter  character,  two  peihaps  exceptnl ;  the 
Song  of  Solomon,  and  the  Book  of  Job— Inquiry,  whether  the  Soi^  o^ 
Solomon  contain  a  complete  plot  or  fable— It  is  an  Eptthalamium :  th4 
characters  which  are  represented  in  it :  the  poem  founded  upon  ^e  nup- 
tial rites  of  the  Hebrews — ^The  opinion  of  Bossuet  cited  and  explainea  » 
namely,  that  this  poem  is  a  representation  of  the  seven  days  or  festival 
which  succeeded  the  marriage,  and  consequently  consists  or  seven  parts 
or  divisions — ^This  opinion  the  most  favourable  of  all,  to  those  who  ac- 
count this  poem  a  regular  Drama :  it  however  doea  not  prove,  that  it 
contains  a  complete  plot  or  fable— Definitioii  of  a  Dram«tie  Fable-*Nol3l^ 
ing  like  it  in  the  Song  of  Solomon :  it  is  therefore  not  a  perfect  Drama, 
but  is  of  the  lesser  class  of  Dramatic  poems— The  chorus  of  Yirgini 
beara  a  great  analogy  to  the  chorua  of  tlio  Greek  tragedies ;  but  could 
not  serve  as  a  model  for  them,  411 

LECTURE  XXXI. 
OF  THE  SUBJECT  AND  STYLE  OP  SOLOMON'S  SONG. 
The  question  debated,  whether  tlie  Song  of  Solomon  is  to  be  taken  in  k 
literal  or  allegorical  sense:  the  allegorical  sense  defended  upon  the 
grounds  of  the  parabolic  style.^-The  nature  and  ground-work  of  this  al- 
kipory  explained^— The  fastidiousness  of  those  critics  rq>roved,  who  pre* 
tend  to  take  oilenoe  at  the  freedom  of  some  of  those  images  which  ard 
found  in  the  Sacred  Writings  i  the  nature  of  those  images  explained. 
The  allegorical  interpretation  confirmed  by  analogical  arguments :  not 
te^aally  dsmoMtrabk  from  the  interml  a tructure  of  the  work  itself.^ 


XX  CONTENTS. 

This  allegory  of  the  tlurd  oc  mysiical  species ;  the  subject  literally  re« 
latlngp  to  the  nuptials  of  Solomon. — Two  cautions  to  be  observed  by 
commentators. — ^The  style  of  the  Poem  pastoral  :  the  characters  are 
represented  as  pastoral ;  how  agreeable  this  to  the  manners  of  the  He- 
brews.— ^The  elegance  of  the  topics,  descriptions,  comparisons  of  this 
Poem  :  illustrate  by  examples,  424 

LECTURE  XXXIL 

OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB. 
la  order  to  criticise  the  book  of  Job  with  any  degree  of  satisfaction  to  his 
auditors,  the  critic  must  explain  his  own  sentiments  concerning  the  work 
in  general<^The  book  of  Job  a  singular  composition,  and  has  little  or  no 
connection  with  the  affairs  of  the  Hebrew»--The  seat  of  the  history  is 
Idumaea ;  and  the  characters  are  evidently  Idumxan  of  the  family  of 
Abraham  ;  the  author  appears  to  be  an  Idumaean,  who  spoke  the  Hemw 
as  his  vernacular  tongue — Neither  Elihu  nor  Moses,  rather  Job  himself» 
or  some  contemporary— ITbis  appears  to  be  the  oldest  book  extant : 
founded  upon  true  history,  and  contains  no  allegory— Although  extceme- 
ly  obscure,  still  the  general  subject  and  design  are  suiBcientfir  evident— 
A  short  and  general  analysis  ot  the  whole  work ;  in  which  the  obscurer 
passages  are  brou^t  as  little  as  possible  in  question — ^The  deductions 
from  this  disquisition — 1  The  subject  of  the  controversy  between  Job 
and  his  iriend»--2.  The  subject  of  the  whole  poem — 3.  Its  end  or  pur- 
pose— All  questions  not  necessarily  appertaining  to  this  point  to  be 
avoided,  445 

LECTURE  XXXIII. 
THE  POEM  OF  JOB  NOT  A  PERFECT  DRAMA. 
The  poem  of  Job  commonly  accounted  dramatic ;  and  thoueht  by  many 
to  be  of  the  same  kind  with  the  Greek  Tragedy  :  this  opimon  examined. 
A  plot  or  fable  essential  to  a  regular  drama ;  its  definition  and  essential 
qualities  according  to  Aristotle—Demonstrated,  that  the  poem  of  Job 
does  not  contain  any  plot :  its  form  and  design  more  fully  explained-<- 
Compared  witli  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus  of  Sophocles  ;  with  the  Oedipus 
Coloneus  ;  and  shewn  to  differ  entirely  from  both  in  form  and  manner — 
It  is  nevertheless  a  roost  beautiful  and  perfect  performance  in  its  kind : 
it  approaches  very  near  the  form  of  a  perfect  drama ;  and,  for  regularity 
in  form  and  arrangement,  justly  claims  the  first  place  among  the  poet- 
ical compositions  of  the  Hebrews,  469 

LECTURE  XXXIV. 

QF  THE  MANNERS,  SENTIMENTS,   AND  STYLE  OF  THE  POliM 

OF  JOB. 

Though  the  poem  of  Job  do  not  contain  a  plot  or  fable,  it  possesses,  nev- 
erth^ess,  some  things  in  common  with  tlie  perfect  drama — Maititeks  or 
character— The  manners  of  Job ;  to  be  distinguished  from  the  passions 
or  emotions— *The  opinion  of  Aristotle,  that  the  character  of  extreme 
virtue  is  not  proper  for  tragedy,  demonstrated  to  be  neither  applicable 
to  Job,  nor  true  with  respect  to  tragedy  in  general— The  design  of  the 
poem — ^The  manners  of  the  tliree  friends :  the  gradations  of  passion  more 
strongly  marked  in  them  than  the  diversity  of  manners — ^Elihu — ^The 
expostulation  of  God  himself— SxnTiitEKTs  ;  expressive  of  things  and 
of  manners  ;  the  latter  already  noticed  ;  the  former  consist  partly  of 
passion,  partly  of  description  :  two  examples  of  the  softer  passions:  lex- 
amples  of  description— The  Sttub  of  this  poem  uncommonly  elegant  and 
sublime ;  and  the  poetic  conformation  of  the  sentences  extremely  cor- 
rectr^Peroration,  recommending  the  study  of  Hebrew  literature,       481 

A  brief  Confut»tk>n  of  Biahc^  Hare's  System  of  Hdikeir  Uetre^      '     499 


LECTUKES 


SACRED  POETBT 


Of  TBS 


HEBREWS. 


LECTURE  I. 

THE   INTRODUCTION. 

OP  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  OP  POETRT. 

The  parpose  of  poetry  ii  to  iiutruct  while  it  gives  pleasure  t  instraetion 
bdn^f  the  end,  and  pleasure  the  meaiUH-lllustnited  by  examples  from  the 
different  species  of  poetiy^The  Didactic— The  Epic— Tragedy— Lyrio— 
the  lighter  kinds  of  poetiyy  which  are  calculated  as  well  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  our  leisure,  as  for  the  ornament  and  improrement  of  literature. 
Sacred  poetry ;  whence  a  transition  to  the  immediate  object  of  these 
Lectures* 

XHOUGH^  our  present  meeting  be,  on  some  ac- 
counts, rather  earlier  than  I  coald  have  wished ;  yet  I 
cheerfully  embrace  the  opportunity  which  it  affords  me 
of  assuring  you,  gentlemen,  that  to  this  undertaking 
(whether  considered  as  a  duty  imposed,  or  as  a  favour 
conferred  upon  me)  I  bring,  if  no  other  accomplishment, 
at  least  industry  and  inclination.  I  could,  indeed,  more 
patiently  bear  to  be  accused  of  wanting  genius,  fluency, 
or  elegance,  than  of  wanting  diligence  in  the  exercise  of 
that  office,  to  which  your  authority  has  called  me,  or 
gratitude  in  the  acceptance  of  that  favour,  which  (what- 
ever it  be  in  itself)  is  undoubtedly  great,  since  conferred 

1  The  Prelector  of  poetry  at  Oxford  is  obliged  by  the  statute  to  read  his 
inaugural  leisure  the  first  Tuesday  in  the  term  subsequent  to  his  election ; 
and  it  appears  by  the  university  register,  that  Mr.  Lowtb  was  elected  to  the 
professorship  on  the  31st  of  May,  1741,  in  the  vacation  between  Easter  and 
Act  term.    As  this  vacation  is  only  thirteen  days,  commencing  the  Thurs- 


4  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  Lxct.  1. 

on  me  by  you.  For  to  judge  rightly  of  obligations  of 
this  kind,  regard  must  be  had  not  only  to  the  favour  it- 
self, but  to  the  persons  who  confer  it,  and  to  the  person 
on  whom  it  is  conferred.  When,  therefore,  I  reflect, 
that  the  station,  to  which  I  am  invited,  has  been  adorned 
by  men  of  the  first  rank  in  genius  and  learning ;  when 
I  regard  you,  whosb  &vour  cati  add  dignity  to  the  most 
respectable  characters ;  when,  in  fine,  I  consider  myself, 
who  could  never  have  expected  or  hd^ied  fh>m  my  own 
merits  for  any  public  testimony  of  your  approbation ;  I 
receive  this  appointrnqnt  as  an  honour,  for  which  the  ut- 
most exertions  of  labour  and  assiduity  will  be  but  a  ve« 
ry  inadequate  return.  This  part  of  my  duty,  however, 
though  feebly  and  iniperfectly,  I  would  wish  you  to  be- 
lieve I  most  willingly  peifomi :  for  to  an  ingenuous  mind 
nothing  can  be  more  agreeable  than  the  expression,  or 
even  the  sense  of  gratitude  ;  and  the  remembrance  of 
the  obligation  will  rather  stimulate  than  depress.  Other 
considerations  have,  I  must  confess,  tendered  me  not  a 
little  solicitous :  I  am  appointed  to  superintend  a  partic- 
ular department  of  science,  which  you  have  constantly 
distinguished  by  your  presencp  and  attention ;  and  a 
subject  is  to  be  discussed,  which  not  only  you  have 

day  before  Whitsunday,  and  ending  the  Wednesday  after  Trinity  Sunday, 
the  longest  interval  that  could  possibly  happen  between  his  election  and  his 
first  lecture  is  somewhat  less  than  three  weeks :  It  ntight  probably  be  much 
shorttr.  Even  in  his  youth  bishop  Lowth  Was  di^inguished  by  the  cautious 
accuracy  of  bis  judgement  $  he  therefore  very  properly  introduces  a  plan^ 
upon  which  he  was  to  work  for  ten  years  (the  usual  term  of  the  professor- 
ship) with  much  modesty  and  reserve  ;  and  when  he  speaks  of  meeting  his 
constituents  rather  earlu  (paulo  maturius)  he  must  be  understood  as  re* 
gretting  the  little  time,  which  by  the  statute  was  allowed  him  to  prepare 
his  introductory  address.  This  fact  will  serve  also  to  expUin  some  paisa» 
ges  towards  the  conclusion  of  the  lecture. 

For  the  substance  of  this  note  I  am  indebted  to  a  very  intelligent  friend 
at  Oxford,  and  am  happy  in  this  opportunity  of  returning  my  best  acknowl- 
edgements, T, 


LscT.  1.  OF  POETRY.  5 

judged  wordqr  6f  your  cultivation,  acnd  the  public  coan» 
tenancc  of  the  university,  but  whidi  has  hitherto  receiv- 
ed  in  this  place  all  the  embellishinems  of  grace  and  ele- 
gance, of  which  it  is  naturally  susceptible.  Should  it 
therefiDne  M  into  neglect  or  disrepute  hereafter,  I  fear, 
that  I  shall  be  compelled  to  acknowledge  the  fault  to 
have  been  aaine,  and  not  that  of  the  institution  itself. 

Whatever  degree  of  success  indeed  may  attend  my 
endeavours,  \dt  it  not  for  a  moment  be  suspected,  that 
die  design  ib  not  altogether  deserving  of  approbauon^ 
For  can  there  be  any  thing  of  more  real  importance  to 
^mttti^  itsctf,  can  any  thing  be  more  consistent  with 
die  ends  for  which  this  Univerrity  was  founded,  than 
that  the  alt,  of  whose  assistance  every  other  art  and  pro« 
fession  has  so  greatly  availed  itself,  should  be  assigned 
a  place  among  the  rest?  That  art,  so  venerable  for  its 
antiquity,  so  delightful  in  itself;  that  art,  which  is  in  a 
manner  congenial  to  humanity,  and  which  sets  off  na< 
ture  by  the  most  agreeable  representation  of  her  beau* 
ties :  which  among  the  ignorant  and  the  learned,  the  idle 
and  the  studious,  has  ever  obtained  favour,  admiration 
and  regard.  Nothing  surely  can  be  more  worthy  of  a 
liberal  and  accomplished  mind,  than  to  perceive  what  is 
perfect,  and  what  is  defective  in  an  art,  the  beauties  of 
which  frequendy  lie  beneath  the  surface ;  to  understand 
what  is  graceful,  what  is  becoming,  in  what  itsexcellen* 
cies  consist,  and  in  a  word  to  discover  and  relish  those 
delicate  touches  of  grace  and  elegance,  that  lie  beyond 
the  reach  of  vulgar  apprehension.  From  these  subtile 
researches  after  beauty  and  taste,  there  is  also  the  fairest 
reason  to  aj^rehend  that  the  judgement  itself  will  re^ 
ceive  some  accessions  of  strength  and  acuteness,  which 
it  may  successfully  employ  upon  other  objects,  and  up- 
on  other  occasions.     Such  at  least  appear  to  have  been 


4-  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN         Lbct.  1. 

the  sentiments  of  that  excellent  person/  to  whose  mu- 
nificence poetry  has  been  long  indebted  for  her  admis- 
sion into  the  circle  of  those  sciences  which  are  cultivat- 
ed in  this  university.  For  possessing  a  mind  not  only 
instructed  in  the  most  useful  branches  of  knowledge» 
but  adorned  with  the  most  elegant  arts ;  and  having  im- 
bibed the  first  principles  of  education  in  a  seminary, 
where  the  most  important  and  sacred  subjects,  recom- 
mended»by  all  the  elegance  of  polite  literature,  have  been 
heretofore,  and  still  continue  to  be,  studied  with  vigour 
and  e&ct;  he  saw  and  experienced,  how  much  an  at- 
tention to  these  elegancies  would  contribute  to  the  in* 
vestigation  or  illustration  of  the  severer  branches  of  eru- 
dition, and  how  strict  the  alliance  between  philosophy 
and  the  muses. 

The  design,  therefore,  of  the  author  of  this  institution, 
as  well  as  the  usual  practice  on  occasions  like  the  pres- 
ent, reminds  me,  gentlemen,  of  the  propriety  (though 
a  matter  already  familiar  to  most  of  you)  of  premising  a 
few  such  observations,  as  appear  least  exceptionable  con- 
cerning the  end  and  utility  of  the  poetic  art. 

Poetry  is  commonly  understood  to  have  two  objects 
in  view,  namely,  advantage  and  pleasure,  or  rather  an 
union  of  both.  I  wish  those  who  have  furnished  us 
with  this  definition,  had  rather  proposed  utility  as  its 
ultimate  object,'  and  pleasure  as  the  means  by  which 

s  The  poetic  lecture  was  instituted  by  Hxvkt  Biekheao^  LL.  D.  fon^er- 
ly  Fellow  of  All  Souls.    JluthorU  J^ote. 

3  There  are  however  poems  which on!y  delight,  but  which  are  not  there- 
fore to  be  condemned.  Some,  which  though  they  contain  no  moral  pre- 
cepts, no  commendation  of  virtue,  no  sentiment  curious  or  abstruse,  yet 
dress  and  adorn  common  ideas  in  such  splendour  of  diction  and  harmony  of 
numbers,  as  to  aiford  exquisite  pleasure ;  they  bring,  as  it  were  before  our 
eyes,  the  woods  and  streams,  and  all  the  elegant  and  enchanting  objects  of 
nature.    The  excellence  of  such  poems  is  founded  upon  the  aame  pnnoiple 


UcT.  I.  OF  POETRY.  ^ 

that  end)  may  be  eflfectually  accomplished*    The  philoa- 
ofiier  and  the  poet  indeed  seem  principally  to  differ  in 
the  means,  by  which  they  pursue  the  same  end.    Each 
sustains  the  character  of  a  preceptor,  which  the  one  is 
thought  best  to  support,  if  he  teach  with  accuracy,  widi 
subtle^,  and  with  perspicuiQr ;  the  other,  with  spkn* 
dour,  harmony,  and  elegance.    The  one  makes  hb  ap* 
peal  to  reason  only,  independent  of  the  passions ;  the 
other  addresses  the  reason  in  such  a;manner,  as<^even  to 
engagie  the  passions  on  his  side.    The  one  proceeds  to 
virtue  and  truth  by  the  nearest  and  most  compendious 
wsLfs ;  the  other  leads  to  the  same  point  through  certain* 
deflexions  and  deviations,  by  a  winding,  but  pleasanter 
path.     It  is  the  part  of  the  former  so  to  describe  and 
explain  these  objects,  that  we  must  necessarily  become 
acquainted  with  them ;  it  b  the  part  of  the  latter  so  to 
dress  and  adorn  them,  that  of  our  own  accord  we  must 
love  and  embrace  them. 

I  therefore  lay  it  down  as  a  fundamental  maxim,  that 
poetry  is  useful,  chiefly  because  it  is  agreeable ;  and 
should  I,  as  we  are  a|^  to  do,  attribute  too  much  to  my 
favourite  occupation,  I  trust  philosophy  will  forgive  me, 
when  I  add,  that  the  writings  of  the  poet  are  moir  use- 
ful  than  those  of  the  philosopher,  inasmuch  as  they  are 
more  agreeable.  To  illustrate  this  position  by  well 
known  examples :  Can  it  be  supposed  that  the  more 
learned  Romans,  when  they  became  devoted  to  the  doc- 
trine  of  Epicurus,  did  not  more  highly  esteem,  and 
more  frequently  apply  to  the  admirable  poem  of  Lucre- 

with  that  of  a  beautiful  picture»  which  it  more  valued  for  contributhi^  to 
pleasure  only,  than  many  other  things  are  for  their  actual  utility.  What 
follows  I  greatly  approre :  only  I  would  not  wish  it  to  be  denied,  that  there 
are  some  poems  which  have  no  design  but  that  of  giving  pleasure,  and  that 
this  is  even  a  laudable  end;  nor  indeed  does  our  author  altogether  suppose 
this  imposaible.    M. 


«  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN         Lsct.  1. 

tius,  than  to  Catius,  or  Amafaaius,  or  even  the  com- 
mentaries  of  £picun]s  himself?  Who  can  believe  thai 
even  th/e  roost  tasteless  could  penise  the  writings  on 
agriculture,  either  of  the  learned  Varro,  or  (not  to  men* 
tioQ  the  elder  Cato)  of  Columella,  an  author  by  no  means 
deficient  in  elegance,  with  the  same  pleasure  and  atten^ 
lion  aa  that  most  delightful  and  tnost  perfeol  worl^,  tfan 
Georgica  of  Virgil  ?  A  work  in  which  he  haa  e^aUo4 
Ijhe  most  .respectable  writrvs  in  the  aolidi^  of  hb  mat* 
tar/  and  has  greatly  excelled  the  moat  elegant  ifk  the 
incredible  hanmmy  of  hm  numbers.  On  the  oontcaiyv 
}f  Maniliua,  who  b  numbered  (and  righdy  if  wc  maf 
credit  his  own  testimonjr)  among  the  writcra  of  the 
Augustan  age,  has  treated  the  engaging  science  of  as^ 
tronon^  in  such  low  and  inelegant  verse,  aaeven  acaix^e» 
ly  to  excel  Julius  Firmicus,  a  prose  writer  on  the  same 
subject  in  a  less  polished  age,  I  will  allow  him  the  merit 
of  a  philosopher  and  astronomer,  but  never  can  account 
him  a  poet*  '  For  what  is  a  poet,  destitute  of  harmony, 
of  grace,  and  of  4II  that  conduces  to  allurement  and  de« 
light  ?  or  how  should  we  derive  advantage  or  improve* 
ment  from  an  author,  whom  no  man  of  taste  can  endure 
to  read  ?  The  reason,  therefore,  why  poetiy  is  so  studi* 

4  SnriCA  teems  to  detract  from  tlie  authoritir  of  yxBou.^8  Oe^rgietf  de- 
■cribing  him  as  an  author,  **who  studied  truth  less  th^n  ele^^ance;  and 
wished  nitber  to  delight  the  reader»  than  to  instruct  the  husbimdman." 
CoKUMKUiA»  however,  seems  to  be  of  a  very  diflferent  opinion,  and  I  cannot 
help  thinking  him  9.  much  better  judge.  He  continaallx  cites  the  9e9rgiu$ 
never  with  any  degree  of  blame,  and  generally  with  Uie  greatest  applause: 
"  this  mode  we  shall  pursue,  if  we  may  trust  the  poet,  whose  authority  on 
such  occasions  I  esteem  litde  less  than  an  oracle."  Lib.  4.  "  I  shall  fre- 
^uenUy  make  use  of  the  authority  of  this  divine  poem.**  JUb.  vii.  3.  fn 
the  very  matter  for  which  Siitsga  finds  fault  with  Vieoil,  namely,  the 
time  of  sowing  millet,  the  reader  will  see  how  ignorantly  the  poet  b  cen- 
tred by  the  philosopher,  if  he  consults  Coivxijuu,  U,  9.  PLnr.  N.  H. 
tviiir.    Paiaab.  m.  3.    •IvlAfr'ffisfe. 


L*cT.  I.  OF  POETRY.  9 

ous  to  embellish  her  precepts  with  a  certain  inviting 
sweetness,  and  as  it  were 

^^«  tinctyre  tbem  with  the  honey  of  the  muses/* 

is  plainly,  by  such  seasoning  to  conciliate  favour  to  her 
doctrine,  as  is  the  practice  even  of  physicians,  who  tem- 
per with  pleasant  flavours  their  least  agreeable  medi- 
eines: 

«  Thus  the  sick  infant's  taste  disg^uis'd  to  meet» 
«  They  tinge  the  vessol's  brim  with  juices  sweet  | 
**  The  bitter  draught  hb  willing  lip  receires ; 
<*  He  drinks  deceiv'd,  and  so  deceived  he  lives  ;** 

as  Lucretius  expresses  himself  in  illustration  of  his  own 
design,  as  well  as  that  of  poetry  in  general. 

But  if  it  be  manifest,  even  in  authors  who  directly 
profess  improvement  and  advantage,  that  those  will  \ 
most  efficaciously  instruct,  who  afford  most  entertain-  J 
ment ;  the  same  will  be  still  more  apparent  in  those, 
who,  dissembling  the  intention  of  instruction,  exhibit 
only  the  blandishments  of  pleasure  ;  and  while  they  treat 
of  the  most  important  things,  of  all  the  principles  of 
moral  action,  all  the  offices  of  life,  yet  laying  aside  the 
severity  of  the  preceptor,  adduce  at  once  all  the  decora- 
tions of  elegance,  and  all  the  attractions  of  amusement : 
who  display,  as  in  a  picture,  the  actions,  the  manners, 
the  pursuits  and  passions  of  men ;  and  by  the  force  of 
imitation  and  fancy,  by  the  harmony  of  numbers,  by  the 
taste  and  variety  of  imagery,  captivate  the  affections  of 
the  reader,  and  imperceptibly,  or  perhaps  reluctantly, 
impel  him  to  the  pursuit  of  virtue.  Such  is  the  real 
purpose  of  heroic  poetry ;  such  is  the  noble  effect  pro- 
duced^by  the  perusal  of  Homer.  And  who  so  thought- 
less, or  so  callous,  as  not  to  feel  incredible  pleasure  in 
that  most  agreeable  occupation  ;  who  is  not  moved,  as^ 
2 


10  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  L«ct.  I. 

tonished,  enraptured  by  the  inspiration  of  that  most 
sublime  genius?  Who  so  inanimate  as  not  to  see,  not 
to  feel  inscribed,  or  as  it  were  imprinted  upon  his  heart, 
his  most  excellent  maxims  concerning  human  life  and 
manners  ?  From  philosophy  a  few  cold  precepts  may  be 
deduced ;  in  history  some  dull  and  spiridess  examples 
of  manners  may  be  found :  here  we  have  the  energetic 
voice  of  virtue  herself,  here  we  behold  her  animated 
form.  Poetry  addresses  her  precepts  not  to  the  reason 
alone,  she  calls  the  passions  to  her  aid :  she  not  only 
exhibits  examples,  but  infixes  them  in  the  mind.  She 
softens  the  wax  with  her  peculiar  ardour,  and  renders  it 
more  plastic  to  the  artistes  liand.  Thus  does  Horace 
most  truly  and  most  justly  apply  this  commendation  to 
the  poets : 

«« What's  fair,  and  false,  and  right,  these  bards  describe, 
«^  Better  and  plainer  than  the  Stoic  tribe  i** 

Plainer  or  more  completely,  because  they  do  not  per- 
plex their  disciples  with  the  dry  detail  of  parts  and  de- 
finitions, but  so  perfectly  and  so  accurately  delineate  by 
examples  of  every  kind,  the  forms  of  the  human  pas*- 
sions  and  habits,  the  principles  of  social  and  civilized 
life,  that  he,  who  from  the  schools  of  philosophy  should 
turn  to  the  representations  of  Homer,  would  feel  him- 
self transported  from  a  narrow  and  mtricate  path  to  an 
extensive  and  flourishing  field.  Better,  because  the 
poet  teaches  not  by  maxims  and  pretepts,  and  in  the 
dull,  sententious  form ;  but  by  the  harmony  of  verse, 
by  the  beauty  of  imagery,  by  the  ingenuity  of  the  fable, 
by  the  exactness  of  imitation,  he  allures  and  interests 
the  mind  of  the  reader,  he  fashions  it  to  habits  of  vir- 
tue,  and  in  a  manner  informs  it  with  the  spirit  of  integ- 
rity itself. 


LscT.  I.  OP  POETRY.  11 

But  if,  from  the  heroic  we  turn  to  the  tragic  Muse, 
lo  which  Aristotle'  indeed  assigns  the  preference,  be- 
cause of  the  true  and  perfect  imitation,  we  shall  yet 
more  clearly  evince  the  superiority  of  poetry  over  phi- 
losophy,  on  the  principle  of  its  being  more  agreeable. 
Tragedy  is,  in  truth,  no  other  than  philosophy  introduced 
upon  the  stage,  retaining  all  its  natural  properties,  remit- 
ting nothing  of  its  native  gravity,  but  assisted  and  embeU 
fished  by  other  favouring  circumstances.  What  point» 
for  instance,  of  moral  discipline  have  the  tragic  writers  of 
Greece  left  untouched,  or  unadorned  ?  What  duty  of 
life,  what  principle  of  political  economy,  what  motive  or 
precept  for  the  government  of  the  passions,  what  com- 
mendation of  virtue  is  there,  which  they  have  not  treat- 
ed of  with  fulness,  variety,  and  learning  ?  The  moral 
of  ^schylus  (not  only  a  poet,  but  a  Pythagorean)  will 
ever  be  admired.  Nor  were  Sophocles  and  Euripides 
less  illustrious  for  the  reputation  of  wisdom ;  the  latter 
of  whom  was  the  disciple  of  Socrates  and  Anaxagoras, 
and  was  known  among  his  friends  by  the  title  of  the 
dramatic  philosopher.  In  these  authora  surely,  the  al- 
lurements of  poetry  afforded  some  accession  to  the  em- 
pire of  philosophy  ;  nor  indeed  has  any  man  arrived  at 
the  summit  of  poeUc  feme,  who  did  not  previously  lay 
the  foundation  of  his  ait  in  true  philosophy. 

Should  it  be  objected,  that  some  have  been  eminent 
in  this  walk  of  poetry,  who  never  studied  in  the  schoob 
of  the  philosqphera,  nor  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  an 
education  above  the  common  herd  of  mankind ;  I  an- 
swer, that  I  am  not  contending  about  the  vulgar  opin- 
ion, or  concerning  the  meaning  of 'a  word :  the  man 
who,  by  the  force  of  genius  and  observation,  has  arriv- 
ed at  a  perfect  knowledge  of  mankind,  who  has  ac- 

'  Boe$,    Cap.  nit. 


12  qj  THE  USRS  AND  DESIGN  Lect.  I. 

quainted  himself  with  the  natural  powers  of  the  human 
mind,  and  the  causes  by  which  the  passions  are  excited 
and  repressed  ;  who  not  only  in  words  can  explain,  but 
cijn  deUneate  to  the  senses  everv  emotion  of  the  soul ; 
who  can  excite,  can  temper  and  regulate  the  passions ; 
such  a  man,  though  he  may  not  have  acquired  erudition 
by  the  common  methods,  I  esteem  a  true  philosopher. 
The  passion  of  jealousy,  its  causes,  circumstances,  its 
pr<%ress  and  efiectBi,  I  hold  to  be  more  accurately,  more 
copiously,  more  satisfactorily  described  in  one  of  the 
dramas  of  Shakspeare,  than  in  all  the  disputations  of  the 
schools  of  philosophy. 

Now  if  tragedy  be  of  so  truly  a  philosophical  nature ; 
and  if  to  all  the  force  and  gravity  of  wisdom  it  add 
graces  and  allurements  peculiarly  its  own,  the  harmony 
of  verse,  the  contrivance  of  the  faUe,  the  excellence  of 
imitation,  the  truth  of  action ;  shall  we  not  say  that  phi- 
losophy  must  yield  to  poetry  in  point  of  utility ;  or  shall 
we  not  rather  say,  that  the  former  is  greatly  indebted  to 
the  latter,  of  whose  assistance  and  recommendation  it 
makes  so  advantageous  a  use,  in  order  to  attain  its  par-« 
ticular  purpose,  utility  or  improvement? 

**  But  if  the  force  of  imitation  and  fable  be  so  great, 
the  fotce  of  truth  itself  must  surely  appear  much  great- 
er :  we  should  therefore  apply  to  history  rather  than  to 
poetrj'  for  instruction  in  morals,"  This  however  is  a 
mistaken  notion.  •  History  is  confined  within  too  narrow 
limits ;  history  is  subject  to  laws  peculiar  to  itself,  and 
too  Si  vere  to  admit  of  such  an  application.  It  relates 
things  as  they  really  were,  it  traces  events  under  the 
guidance  of  authority  ;  it  must  exhibit  what  has  hap- 
pened, not  what  might  or  ou^ht  to  have  happened.  It 
must  not  dt  viate  in  quest  of  reasonable  instruction  or 
plaubibie  conjecture,   but  confine  itself  to  that  path) 


ijicT.  I-  OF  POETRY.  IS 

which  the  stublxMnness  of  fact  has  prescribed.  History 
treats  of  thii^  and  persons  which  have  been  in  actual 
existence ;  the  subjects  of  poetry  are  infinite  and  uni- 
versal. The  one  investigates  causes  through  the  uncer- 
tain medium  of  conjecture ;  the  other  demonstrates  them 
with  clearness  and  certainty.  The  one  catches  the  casual 
glimpses  of  truth,  whenever  they  break  forth  to  the 
view ;  the  other  contemplates  her  unclouded  appearance. 
History  pursues  her  appointed  journey  by  a  direct  path ; 
poetry  ranges  uncontrolled  over  the  wide  expanse  of 
nature.  The  former  must  make  her  precepts  subser- 
vient  to  the  subject ;  the  latter  forms  a  subject  subordi- 
nate to  her  precepts  and  design.  For  these  reasons 
poetry  is  defined  by  Aristotle  to  be  something  of  a  more 
sak^lis  wd  philosophical  nature  tlian  history  ;^  nor  is  our 
Bacon  (a  name  not  inferior  in  literature)  <^  a  different 
sentiment.  The  subject  itself,  and  the  authority  of  so 
great  a  man,  require  that  the  passage  should  be  quoted 
in  his  own  words.  **  Since  the  sensible  world  is  in  dig- 
**  nity  inferior  to  the  rational  soul ;  poetry  seems  to  en- 
"  dow  human  nature  with  that  which  lies  beyond  the 
'*  power  of  history,  and  to  gratify  the  mind  with  at  least 
"  the  shadow  of  things,  where  the  substance  cannot  be 
'*  had.  For  if  the  matter  be  properly  considered,  an 
'*  argument  may  be  drawn  from  poetry,  that  a  superior 
**  d'^nity  in  things,  a  more  perfect  order,  and  a  more 
**  beautiful  variety  delights  the  soul  of  man,  than  is 
*'  found  in  nature  since  the  ialL  As,  therefore,  the  ac« 
*'  tions  and  events,  which  are  the  subject  of  true  history, 
*^  are  not  of  sufficient  amplitude  to  content  the  nund  of 
^*  man ;  poetry  b  at  hand,  and  invents  actions  of  a  more 
*^  heroic  nature.    Because  true  history  reports  the  sue- 

*  Km  OiX«7«^WIif«r  mm  ^imimfStftf  vmnt  if «f mh  <f »•      Aeist.  Pgcts 
c.  9.    Ai*th9f^9  J\r9te, 


/ 


U  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  Lsct.  U 

^  cess  of  events  not  proportionably  to  desert,  or  accord- 
**  ing  to  the  virtue  or  vice  that  has  been  displayed  in 
^^  them  ;  poetry  corrects  this,  and  represents  events  and 
**  fortunes  according  to  justice  and  merit :  Because  true 
'*  history,  from  the  obvious  similarity  of  actions,  and  the 
*'  satiety  which  this  circumstance  most  occasion,  fre» 
^'  quently  creates  a  distaste  in  the  mind ;  poetry  cheers 
**  and  re&reshes  it,  exhibiting  thii^  uncommon,  varied^ 
**  and  fuU  of  vicissitude.  As  poetry,  th^^fin^,  contr3>utes 
*'not  oii\y  to  pleasure,  but  to  magnemift^ity  and  good 
** morals;  it  is  deservedly  supposed  to  participate  in 
**  some  measure  of  divine  inspiraticxi ;  since  it  raises  the 
^^  mind,  and  fills  it  with  sublime  ideas,  by  proportioning 
^«  the  appearances  of  things  to  the  desires  d  the  mind ; 
^  and  not  submitting  the  mind  to  things,  like  reason 
"  and  history.'** 

That  elevation  of  sentiment,  that  in^iration,  that  use- 
^  fulness  in  forming  the  manners,  is  however  by  no  means 
so  peculiar  to  the  epic  (to  which  that  great  man  chiefly 
refers  in  this  passage)  as  to  exclude  the  claim  of  every 
other  species  of  poetry ;  there  are  others  which  also  de- 
serve to  partake  in  the  commendation :  and  first  the 
^e, 

^  With  tbotightt  that  breathe,  and  «onk  that  bum ;'' 

which,  though  in  some  respects  inferior  to  what  are 
called  die  higher  species  of  poetry,  yields  to  none  in 
force,  ardour,  and  sometimes  even  in  dignity  and  so- 
lemnity. Every  species  of  poetry  has  in  fact  its  pecul- 
iar mode  of  acting  on  the  human  feelings  ;  the  general 
e&ct  is  perhaps  the  same.  The  epic  accomplishes  its 
design  with  more  leisure,  with  more  consideration  and 
care,  and  therefore  probably  with  greater  certainty.  It 
more  gradually  insinuates  itself,  it  penetrates,  it  moves, 

''  De  Au^r^  Sdenu    L.IL  la 


Lmct.  I.  Ot  POETRY.  TS 

it  delights ;  now  rising  to  a  high  degree  ()f  sublimity, 
now  subsiding  to  its  accustomed  smoothness ;  and  con- 
ducting the  reader  through  a  varied  and  delightful 
scene,  it  applies  a  gentle  constraint  to  the  mind,  making 
its  Impression  by  the  forcible  nature  of  this  application, 
but  more  especially  by  its  continuance.  The  ode,  on 
die  contrary,  strikes  with  an  instantaneous  effect,  a- 
mazes,  and  as  it  were  storms  the  dfl^tions.  'fhe  one 
may  be  compared  to  a  flame,  which,  fimned  by  the 
winds,  gradually  spreads  itself  on  all  sides,  and  at  last 
involves  every  object  in  tfie  conflagration ;  the  other  to 
a  flash  of  lightning,  which  instantaneously  bursts  forth, 

<(  With  instant  ruin  threats  g^eat  nature's  frame, 
«  And  shoots  through  cv't^  part  the  vivid  flame.** 

The  amazing  power  of  lyric  poetry  in  directing  the 
passions,  in  forming  the  manners,  in  maintaining  civil 
life,  and  particularly  in  exciting  and  cherishing  that 
generous  elevation  of  sentiment,  on  which  the  very  ex- 
btence  of  public  virtue  seems  to  depend,  will  be  suffic- 
iently apparent  by  only  contemplating  those  monuments 
of  genius,  which  Greece  has  bequeathed  to  posterity* 
If  we  examine  the  poems  of  Pindar  (which,  though  by 
no  means  accounted  the  most  excellent  of  their  kind, 
by  some  strange  fatality  are  almost  the  only  specimens 
that  remain)  how  exquisite  must  have  been  the  pleas- 
ure, how  vivid  the  sensation  to  the  Greek,  whose  ordi- 
nary amusement  it  was  to  sing,  or  hear  them  sung ! 
For  this  kind  of  entertainment  was  not  confined  to  per- 
sons of  taste  and  learning,  but  had  grown  into  general 
use.  When  he  heard  his  gods,  his  heroes,  his  ances- 
tors received  into  the  number  of  the  gods,  celebrated  in 
a  manner  so  glorious,  so  divine,  would  not  his  bosom 
glow  with  the  desire  of  fame,  with  the  most  fervid  em- 
ulation of  virtue,  with  a  patriotism,  immoderate  per- 


1«  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN         Lsct.  L 

haps,  but  honourable  and  useful  in  the  highest  degree  f 
Is  it  wonderful,  that  he  should  be  so  elevated  with  this 
greatness  of  mind  (shall  I  call  it?)  or  rather  insolence 
and  pride,  as  to  esteem  every  other  people  mean,  bar- 
barous and  contemptible,  in  comparison  with  himself 
and  his  own  countrymen  ?   It  is  almost  unnecessary  to. 
remind  this  assembly,  that,  in  the  sacred  games  (which 
aflbrded  so   much  support   to  the  warlike,  virtue  of. 
Greece)*  no  inconsiderable  share  of  dignity  and  esteem, 
resulted  from  the  verses  of  the. poets ;    nor  did  the  O** 
lympic  crown  exhibit  a  more  ample  reward  to  the  Can-; 
didate  for  victory,  than  the  enqomium  of  Pindar  or  Ste-*; 
sichorus*     I  wish,  indeed,  that  time  had  not  invidious- 
ly deprived  us  of  the  works  of  the  latter,  whose  majesty 
and  excellence  commanded  universal  applause,  whom 
Dionysius*    preferred  before  every  other  Lyric  poet,, 
because  he  made  choice  of  the  sublimest  and  most 
splendid  subjects,  and  in  the  amplification  of  them  pre- 
served most  completely  the  manners  and  the  dignity  of 
his  characters.     To  Alcaeus,  however,  the  same  author 
attributes  the  most  excellent  manner  of  treating  politic- 
al subjects.*^    As  a  man,  indeed,  how  great !    as  a  citi- 
zen how  strenuous  !    What  a  spirited  defender  of  the 
laws  and  constitution  of  his  country  !  What  a  vigorous 
opposer  of  tyrants !    who  consecrated  equally  his  sword 
and  his  lyre  on  the  altar  of  freedom  !    whose  prophetic 
Muse,  ranging  throu^  every  region,  acted  as  the  sacred 
guardian,  not  for  the  present  moment  only,  but  for  fu- 
ture ages ;  not  of  his  own  city  alone,  but  of  the  whole 
commonwealth  of  Greece.     Poetry  such  as  this,   so 
^'ehement,  so  animated,    is  certainly  to  be  esteemed 

•  Consult  the  disaerUtkmof  the  learned  Gilbxat  Wist  on  the  Olympic 
garnet.    Sect  zvii. 
«   Diojr.  Haijoar.  T.  II.  p.  123.    Edit.  Hudson.  lo  ibid. 


L*et.  I.  OP  POETRY.  if 

highly  efficacious  as  well  in  exciting  tht  hrnnan  mind 
to  virtue*  as  in  purifying  it  from  every  mean  and  vicious 
propensity ;  but  still  more  especially  does  it  conduce  to 
cherish  and  support  that  vigour  of  soul,  that  generous 
temper  and  spirit,  which  is  both  the  offspring  and 
guardian  of  Liberty.  Could  an  apprehension  arise» 
that  another  Pisistratas  would  meditate  the  enslaving  of 
that  city,  where  at  every  banquet,  nay,  in  the  streets 
and  in  the  meanest  assemblies  of  the  common  people, 
that  convivial  ode  was  daily  sung,  which  bears  the  name 
of  Callistratus  ?  An  author  known  to  us  only  by  this 
composition,  which  however  sufficiently  demonstrates 
him  to  have  been  an  admirable  poet  and  an  excellent 
citizen :"  f 

11  K-nMnrnvn^  Zib.  XV.  This  SkoUm  (or  convivial  longp)  some  have  at- 
tributed to  \lcttQ8  :  but  not  conformably  with  strict  chronology  ;  for  AU 
OKUs  (loitfislied  about  eigbty  years  before  the  death  of  Hipparchus.  But 
HuTCRTus  has  preserved  the  name  of  the  author  from  oblivion^  directly 
assigning  the  poem  to  Callistbatits.  This  poem  was  so  celebrated  at 
Athens,  that  it  was  sung  a.t  alaiMt  «veiy  banquet,  as  we  lea|B  from  Aais- 
ToniAHxsy  A^ttf^.  977. 

"  Grin)  vifftg'd  War  shall  never  be  my  gilest, 

**  Nor  at  my  table  sing^  Hannodius'  pratte  *. 

**  Such  lawless  riot  mars  our  temp*rate  joys/* 
**  He  ilud!  liever  sing^  Harmodius  with  me :"  that  is,  he  shall  never  be  ny 
piest  Upon  this  passage  the  Sghouast  :  **  In  theit  convivial  meetings 
tfafcy  sung*  a  eertam. ballad  of  Harmodius,  which  begins  ^i*3m!k  Af/*^a  n,  r,  a.'* 
Also  in  the  same  comedy,  109S,  these  songs  are  enumerated  amon^  the 
«ther  appaimtus  of  the  entertainment : 

^  The  spri^tly  dance  :  Harmodius !  tl&y  deKgfat." 
There  is  an  allusion  to  the  same  Aurir.  633. 

•*  My  sword  Fll  bear  hid  in  a  myrtle  branch ; 

*'  And  like  AHstogfiton  walk  m  arms.^ 
It  Is  evident  from  this  ballad,  that  the  «onsptrators,  when  they  assaulted 
Hipparchtts,  concealed  their  dag^gers  In  those  inyrtle  garlands,  which,  if  I 
mistake  not,  were  carried  by  all  who  assisted  at  the  sacred  rites  of  the 
Ponathetudc  sacrifice :  and  this  is  indeed  cmrfirmed  by  the  STcholiast  upon 
Aristophanes,  in  the  passage  before  referred  to :  **  For  these  men,  Harmo- 
diua  and  Aristogiton,  hastiiy  drawing  their  swords  out  bf  the  myrtle 

3 


18  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  Lbct.  1. 

Verdant  myrtle's  branchy  pride, 

Shall  my  thirsty  blade  entwine  :, 
Such,  Harmodius,  deck'd  thy  side, 

Such,  Aristogiton,  thine. 
Noblest  youths  !  in  islands  blest, 

Not  like  recreant  idlers  dead } 
fou  with  fleet  Pelioes  rest» 

And  with  godlike  Diomkd. 

Myrtle  shall  our  brows  entwine» 

While  the  Muse  your  fame  shall  tell ; 
'Twas  at  Pallas'  sacred  shrine. 

At  your  feet  the  tyrant  fell. 
Then  in  Athens  all  was  peace, 

Equal  laws  and  liberty : 
Nurse  of  ana  and  eye  of  Greece, 

People  valiant,  firm  and  free  1^' 

boughs,  fell  fm*iou8ly  upon  the  tyrant."  Hence  perhaps  arose  the  custom^ 
that  whoever  sung  any  convivial  song  in  company,  always  held  a  branch  of 
xtiyrtle  in  his  hand.    See  Plutabcb  1,  Symp.  ^test,  1.    Author^»  JVofe. 

Our  CoLLiirs  in  particular  has  attributed  this  poem  to  Aicjbvs,  in  the 
following  beautiful  lines : 

••  What  new  Alcxus,  fancy  blest, 
'*Sha]l  sing  the  sword,  in  myrtles  drest^ 
■<  At  Wisdom's  shrine  a  while  its  flame  concealing, 

"  (What  place  so  fit  to  seal  a  deed  renown'd  ?) 
**  Till  she  her  brightest  lightnings  round  revealing, 
*<  It  leap'd  in  glory  forth,  and  dealt  her  prompted  wound." 

Ode  to  Liberty. 

IS  The  above  imitation,  all  but  the  third  stanza,  is  taken  from  a  para- 
phrase of  this  poem,  said  to  be  the  production  of  Sir  W.  JoinM.    The  fbU 
lowing  is  a  more  literal  translation  by  Mr.  Cuxbiblak]»  : 
"  He  is  not  dead,  our  best  belov*d 

*'  Harmodius  is  not  lost, 
"  But  with  Troy's  conquerors  remov'd 

'*  To  some  more  happy  coast. 
••  Bind  then  the  myrtle's  mystic  bough, 

**  And  wave  your  swords  around, 
«•  For  so  they  struck  the  tyrant  low, 

"  And  so  their  swords  were  bound. 
"  Perpetual  objects  of  our  love 

«  Tlie  patriot  pair  shall  be, 
**  Who  in  Minerva's  sacred  grove 

"  Struck  and  set  Athens  free.'*        Obtet-ber,  No.  9.    T. 


L«CT.  1.  OF  POETRY.  19 

If  after  the  memorable  Ides  of  March,  any  one  of  the 
Tyrannicides  had  delivered  to  the  populace  such,  a  po- 
em as  this,  had  introduced  it  to  the  Suburra,  to  the  as- 
semblies of  the  Forum,  or  had  put  it  into  tlie  mouths  of 
the  common  people,  the  dominion  of  the  Caesars  and 
its  adherents  would  have  been  totally  extinguished: 
and  I  am  firmly  persuaded,  that  one  stanza  of  this  sim- 
ple ballad  of  Harmodius  would  have  been  more  effectu- 
al than  all  the  Philippics  of  Cicero. 

There  are  some  other  species  of  poetry,  which  with 
us  generally  appear  in  an  easy  and  familiar  style,  but 
formerly  assumed  sometimes  a  graVer  and  more  impor- 
tant character.  Such  is  the  elegy ;  I  do  not  speak  of 
the  light  and  amorous  elegy  of  the  moderns,  but  that 
ancient,  serious,  sacred,  and  didactic  elegy,  the  precep- 
tress of  morals,  the  lawgiver  of  nations,  the  oracle  of 
virtue.  Not  to  enter  into  a  detail  of  authors,  of  whose 
works  we  are  not  in  possession,  and  of  whose  merits 
we  consequently  can  form  no  adequate  judgement,  it 
will  be  sufficient  to  instance  Solon,  the  most  venerable 
character  of  antiquity,  the  wisest  of  legislators,  and 
withal  a  poet  of  no  mean  reputation.  When  any  thing 
difficult  or  perplexing  occurred  in  the  administration  of 
public  a&irs,  we  are  informed  that  he  had  recourse  to 
poetry."  Were  the  laws  to  be  maintained  or  enforced 
upon  any  particular  emei^ncy ;  was  the  indolence  or 
licentiousness  of  the  citizens  to  be  reproved ;  were  th^ir 
minds  to  be  stimulated  to  the  love  of  liberty,  he  imme- 
diately  attacked  them  with  some  poetical  production, 
bold,  animated,  and  severe,  in  the  highest  tone  of  cen- 
sorial gravity,  and  yet  in  no  respect  deficient  in  ele- 
gance: 

IS  See  Plutabcb  &  Diog.  Lasbt.    Life  of  Solon, 


so  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  Lect.  i. 

<<  9efcr€  the  Bwfuf  pe»!  the  lightning  fliea, 
And  gathering  clouds  iinptodiog  storms  presage ; 

By  aouls  aspiring  civil  freedom  dies ; 

The  people's  madness  whets  the  tyrant's  rage.'* 

^19  a  well-known  fact,  that  Athens  was  altogether  in« 
debted  for  the  recovery  of  Salamia  to  the  verses  of  So* 
Ion ;  even  contrary  to  their  own  inclination  and  inten- 
tipq.  After  they  bad,  from  repeated  overthrows,  fallen, 
into  the  deepest  despa^',  insomuch  that  it  was  made  a 
capital  o&nce,  even  to  propose  the  renewal  of  the  war» 
or  the  reclaiming  of  the  island,  such  was  the  influence 
of  that  single  poem,  which  begins--— ^^  Let  us  march  to 
Salamis,"  that  as  if  pronounced  by  a  prophet,  instinct 
with  divine  enthusiasm,  the  people,  propelled  by  a  kind 
of  celestial  inspiration,  flew  immediately  to  arms,  became 
clamorous  for  war,  and  sought  the  field  of  battle  with 
such  incredible  ardour,  that  by  the  violence  of  their  on- 
setf  after  a  great  slau^ter  of  the  enemy,  they  achieved 
a  most  decisive  victory. 

We  have  also  some  remains  of  the  celebrated  Tyr- 
tasus,  who 

"  manly  soub  to  martial  deed^ 
By  verse  e3(cUedr'* 

The  whole  scope  i^nd  siibject  of  his  compositions,  b  the 
celebration  of  valour  and  patriotism,  and  the  immortal 
gjpry  of  those,  who  bravely  fell  in  battie  :**^*cc)inpoal^ 
tions,  which  could  impart  some  degree  of  courage  even 
to  the  timid  and  upn^nly ;  by  which,,  indeed,  heekvatn 
ed  the  minds  of  the  LMcedemoDiaWt  which  bad  been 
long  debilitated  ^nd  depressed,  to  the  certain  hope  rf 
•victory.  The  fact  is  well  known^  and  had  it  not  been 
corroborated  by  the  testimony  of  so  many  authors,  it 
would  doubtless  have  been  thought  by  some  incredible  i 
though  I  confess  it  appears  to  me  no  less  supported  by 


Lmt.  1«  Off  FOETRY.  31 

the  foison  of  Aiags  than  by  the  aulhority  of  die  histori- 
an. It  is  inpcfisible  that  men  should  act  otherwise  than 
with  the  most  heroic  ardour,  die  moat  undaunted  reso* 
hition,  who  aung  to  the  anartialpipe,  when  arranged  in 
mtlitaiy  order,  marching  to  the  onset,  or  perhaps  adu-* 
atty  engaged,  sui^  straina  aa  these : 

Our  country's  voice  invites  the  brave 

The  gtorbus  loilft  of  war  I»  try ; 
Curs'd  be  the  cov^i^  or  %i»  a^ire. 

Who  shtto^  thfC  fi^t,  ipnfao  fears  to  die  I 

Obedient  tp  tlia  hi(h  owmiaii4 

Fuli  f^ni^ht  with  patriouc  firtf 
Descends  a  small  but  trusij  'bandy 

And  scarce  restrains  th'  impatient  ire* 

Lo  the  hostile  crouds  advance  I 

Firmly  we  their  might  oppose^ 
Helm  to  helm,  and  lance  to  lance, 

Id  awful  pomp  we  meet  our  foes^ 

Unaw'd  by  fear,  untaught  to  yield, 

We  boldly  tread  th'  ensanguin'd  plain  : 
And  scorn  to  quit  the.  martial  field. 

Though  drench'd  in  blood,  though  heap*d  with  slain. 

For  though  stem  deaith  assail  the  brave. 

His  virtues  endless  life  shall  claim ; 
His  fame  shall  mock  th!  invidious  grave, 

To  times  unburn  a  sacred  name  ! 

Not  entiid3r  to  onni  the  lighter  kinds  of  poetry,  many 
will  think  that  we  allow  them  full  enough,  uhen  we  sup« 
ppse  their  utility  to  consist  in  the  entertainment  which 
they  affovd.  Nor  b  this,  gentlemen,  altogether  to  be 
despised^  if  it  be  considered  that  this  entertainment,  this 
levity  itself;  a£forda  relaxation  to  the  mind  when  wearied 
with  the  hdboriou^  investigation  of  truth ;  that  it  unbends 
the  understanding,  after  intense  application ;  restores  it 
whm  debilitated;   and  refireahes  it,  even  by  an  mter- 


32  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  LseT.  1. 

change  and  variety  of  study.  In  this  we  are  counte- 
nanced by  the  example  and  authority  of  the  greatest  men 
of  Greece,  by  that  of  Solon,  Plato  and  Aristotle ;  among 
the  tlomans,  by  that  of  Scipio  and  Laelius,  Julius  and 
Augustus  Caesar,  Varro  and  Brutus,  who  filled  up  the 
intervals  of  their  more  important  engagements,  tbeirse* 
verer  studies,  with  the  agreeabkness  and  hilariqr  of  this 
poetical  talent.  Nature  indeed  seems  in  this  most  wise- 
ly to  have  consulted  for  us,  who,  while  she  impels  us  to 
the  knowledge  of  truth,  which  is  frequently  remote,  and 
only  to  be  prosecuted  with  inde&tigable  industry,  has 
provided  also  these  pleasing  recreations,  as  a  refuge  to 
the  mind,  in  which  it  might  occasionally  shelter  itself, 
and  find  an  agreeable  relief  from  languor  and  anxiety. 

But  there  is  yet  a  further  advantage  to  be  derived 
from  these  studies,  which  ought  not  to  be  neglected ; 
for  beside  possessing  in  reserve  a  certain  solace  of  your 
labours,  from  the  same  repositcHy  you  will  also  be  sup* 
plied  with  many  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  literature. 
The  first  object  is,  indeed,  to  perceive  and  comprehend 
clearly  the  reasons,  principles,  and  relations  of  things ; 
the  next  is  to  be  able  to  explain  your  conceptions  not 
only  with  perspicuity,  but  with  a  degree  of  elegance. 
For  in  this  respect  we  are  all  of  us  in  some  measure 
fastidious :  we  are  seldom  contented  with  a  jejune  and 
naked  exposition  even  of  the  most  serious  subjects ; 
some  of  the  seasonings  of  art,  some  ornaments  of  style» 
some  splendor  of  diction,  arc  of  necessity  to  be  adopted; 
even  some  regard  is  due  to  the  harmony  of.  mimbers,  < 
and  to  the  gratification  of  the  ear.  In  all  these  respects, 
though  I  grant  that  the  language  of  pdetry  differs  very 
widely  from  that  of  all  other  kinds  of  composkion,  yet 
he,  who  has  bestowed  some  time  and  attention  on  the 
perusal  and  imitation  of  (lie  poets,  will,  I  am  persuaded. 


tin.  !•  OF  POETRY.  aS 

find  his  understanding  exercised  and  improved  as  it 
m^ere  in  this  Palsestra,  the  vigour  and  activity  of  his  im- 
agination  increased,  and  even  his  manner  of  expression 
to  have  insensiUy  acquired  a  tinge  from  this  elegant  in* 
tercourae.  Thus  we  observe  in  persons,  who  have 
been  tau^t  to  dance,  a  ceilaui  indescribable  grace  and 
manner ;  though  they  do  not  form  their  common  ges- 
ture and  gait  by  any  certain  rules,  yet  there  results 
from  that  exercise  a  degree  of  elegance,  which  accom* 
panies  those  who  have  been  proficients  in  it,  even  when 
they  have  relinquished  the  practice.  Nor  is  it  in  the 
kast  improbable,  that  both  Csesar  and  TuUy^^  (die  one 
the  most  elegant,  the  other  the  most  eloquent  of  the 
Romans)  might  have  derived  considerable  assistance 
fi^m  the  cultivation  of  this  branch  of  polite  literature, 
since  it  is  well  known,  that  both  of  them  were  addicted 
to  the  reading  of  poetry,  and  even  exercised  in  the  com* 
position  of  it.^'    Thb  too  is  so  apparent  in  the  writings 

14  <*  It  Will  not  be  inconsistent  with  these  studies  to  amuse  yourself  with 
^  Poetry  : — ^Tully  indeed  appears  to  me  to  have  acquired  that  luminous 
**  and  splendid  diction  which  he  possessed,  by  occasionally  resorting  to 
"  such  occupations."  Qcixct.  Lid,  X.  5.    jhahor^t  A*oftf. 

1'  It  may  be  doubted  whether  Oicsbo  was  indebted  for  his  excellence  at 
an  orator  to  the  cultivation  of  Poetry.  He  would  have  been  accounted  bu^ 
a  moderate  orator,  if  his  orations  had  only  equalled  his  poetry,  had  he 
spoken  as  he  sung  : 

**  Fortune  foretun'd  the  dying  notes  of  Rome  i 

"  Till  I  thy  Consul  sole,  consol'd  thy  doom.** 
I  do  not  expect  from  Cicsbo  the  polish  and  perfection  of  TrsoiL,  but 
me  might  at  least  have  hoped  to  meet  in  his  verse  some  of  that  fire  and 
hncy  which  appears  in  his  oratory.  The  case  however  is  ftr  otherwise^ 
for  he  appears  not  deficient  in  art,  but  in  nature  ;  in  that  energy  and  en- 
thusiasm, which  is  called  the  poetic  Juror, 

T7pon  very  mature  consideration,  indeed,  I  will  venture  to  proless,  that 
however  Fbetry  may  contribate  to  form  an  aecompUshed  orator,  I  hatdly* 
ever  expect  to  find  the  same  person  excellent  in  both  arts.  The  language* 
of  Poetry  has  something  in  it  so  different  and  contrary  to  that  of  Oratory» 
that  we  seldom  find  those  whp  have,  implied  much  ti>  the  one  rise  above 


/ 


94  OP  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN  hK&t.  !. 

of  Pbto,  that  he  is  thought  not  only  to  have  erred  ii» 
his  judgement,  but  to  have  acted  ^it  ungratefal  part^ 
when  he  exchrded  from  his  tmaj^inarjr  commonwealdf 
that  art,  to  which  he  was  so  much  indebted  Sat  xhig 
qriendoor  and  elegance  of  his  genius,  from  whose  fouti» 
tfains  he  had  derived  tiiat  soft,  copious,  and  harmdiibUft 
style,  for  wbioh  be  is  so  juitly  admifdd* 

But  to  r^ilrft  to  thii  nobler  and  mof^  iAiporfeait  pfiv 
dactiona  of  the  Muses.  Thus  far  poetfy  tnudt  be  al- 
lowed to  stsmd  emineni  «noifg  the  odier  liberal  artb ; 
inasmQeh  as  it  refreshes  the  mind  when  it  te  fii%uerf, 
soothes  it  when  it  is  i^itated^  urtievea  and  invigorates  it 
when  it  is  depressed  t  as  it  elevates  the  thoughts  to  die 
admiration  of  what  is  beaotifiil,  what  is  becoming,  what 
is  great  and  noUe :  nor  is  it  enough  to  say,  that  it  de- 
livers the  precepts  of  virtue  in  the  most  agreeable  msai* 
ner ;  it  insinuates  or  instils  into  the  soul  the  very  prin* 
eipies  of  morality'  itself*    Moreover,  since  the  desire  of 

medbcrity  in  the  other.  The  chief  extdlence  of  tax  Orator  consists  in 
perspicuity,  and  in  such  a  degp'ee  of  perspicuity  as  is  necessary  to  render 
the  compoattlon  inteUifpibte  even  to  the  common  pieople  :  hut»  Uioagh  ob- 
jicurity  be  not  a  necessary  adjunct  of  a  good  poem»  it  must  be  considera- 
bly superior  to  the  language  and  comprehension  of  the  vulgar  to  rank 
jtbove  mediocrity.  The  Orator  must  not  deviate  from  the  common  and 
b^ten  track  of  language  ;  the  Poet  must  aim  at  a  happy  boldness  of  dic- 
tion, and  wander  into  new  paths.  The  Orator,  in  order  to  be  generally  un- 
derstood, is  necessarily  more  copious  and  prolix  not  only  than  the  Poet, 
but  than  all  other  wrrters  s  the  chief  commendation  of  the  Poet  is  brevity. 
A  poem  is  always  enervated  by  circumlocutions,  unless  new  lig^  of  sen- 
ihnent  and  language  are  thrown  in.  For  these  aAd  other  reasons,  I  am  of 
c^inion,  that  if  a  well-cultivated  genius  for  Poetry  should  apply  earnestly 
to  Oratory,  he  might  indeed  prove  such  an  Orator  as  would  jdease  a  leun- 
cd  audience,  Mid  not  be  unpleasing  to  the  populace  ;  but  such  a  man  will 
never  prove  a  very  popular  Orator,  on  whom  the  people  shall  gasse  with 
admiration  and  rapture,  and  who  shall  aequiK  a  perfect  aseendancy  over 
«H  their  poMtons  :  and  he  wto  is  by  nature  an  Onttor,  may  poMibly  be  • 
Poet  for  the  multitude,  ov  by  art  and  study,  and  the  imitation  of  tiie  best 
models,  niay  make  a  decent  proficiency,  but  he  nerer  can  be  a  great  and 
divine  PoeL   M. 


U«v.  1.  Olf  PO£tRY.  SI 

I^Kxy,  innale  in  man,  af^ars  to  be  the  most  pnwciful 
incentive  to  groat  and  heroic  actions,  it  is  the  peculitf 
fonction  of  poetiy  to  improve  diis  bias  of  our  natere,  and 
thus  to  cherisb  and  enliven  the  embers  €i  virtue  z  and 
^Bce  one  of  the  principal  employ menls  cS  poe^  eoiii* 
sists  in  the  celebration  of  gveat  and  virtuous  aptiona,  io 
ttansmitting  to  posterity  die  examples  of  the  IravesI 
and  most  excellent  of  men,  and  in  consecradng  Iheit 
names  to  immortafity ;  this  praise  is  certainly  ibdu'e^ 
llkat  while  it  forms  the  mind  to  hslnls  of  reodtude  by  Ha 
precepts,  directs  it  by  example,  excites  and  animatn»  lA 
by  lis  peculiar  force,  it  has  also  the  distinguished  hooout 
ef  distributing  to  virtue  the  most^  ample  and  (fesirabh^ 
rewards  of  its  labours. 

But  after  all,  we  shall  think  move  humbly  of  poetry* 
than  it  deserves,  unless^  we  direct  our  attention  to  that 
quarter,  where  its  importance  is  most  eminently  ecm- 
spicuoys ;  unless  we  contemplate  it  as  employed  on  sa- 
cred subjects,  and  in  subservience  to  religion.  This 
indeed  appears  to  liave  been  the  original  office  and  des- 
tination of  poetry ;  and  this  it  atiU  so  hapi^ly  performs» 
tibat  in  all  other  eases  it  seems  out  oi  character,  as  if  in- 
tended for  this  purpose  alone*  In  other  instances  poet- 
ry appears  to  want  the  assistance  of  art,  but  in  this  to 
shine  forth  with  all  ks  natural  splendour,  or  rather  to  be 
animat)ed  by  that  inspiration,  which  cm  other  occasions 
is  spoken  of  without  being  felt.  These  observations  arc- 
remarkably  exemplified  in  the  Hebrew  poetry,,  than 
which  the  human  mind  can  conceive  nothing  more  ele- 
vated, more  beautiful,  or  more  elegant ;  in  which  the 
almost  ineffable  sublimity  of  the  subject  is  fully  equalled 
by  the  enei^y  of  the  language,  and  the  dignity  of  the 
style.  And  it  is  worthy  observation,  that  as  some  of 
these  writings  exceed  in  antiquity  the  fabulous  ages  of 
4 


St  OF  THE  USES  AND  DESIGN,  Uc     Lect.  I. 

extent  of  my  abHifcies ;  and  that  for  what  is  wanting  in 
genius,  in  erudition,  in' fluency,  and  in  every  tespect  in 
^hich  I  feel  myself  deficient,  I  shall  endeavour  to  com- 
pensate, as  much  as  possible,  by  care  and  asmduity.  If 
In  these  points  I  shall  be  enabled  to  perform  my  duty, 
I  trust,  gentlemen,  that  other  defidences  you  will  be 
kind  enough  to.  excuse;  and  that  the  person  whom 
yod  have  honoured  widi  your  fiivour  and  attention; 
with  your  candour  and  indulgence^  you  will  contmiie 
IK)  Mppoit; 


LECTURE  11. 


THE  tiESIGN  AND  ARRANGEMEtnT  OF  THESE  LECTUBES. 

The  dignity  «f  the  Mbjett,  «nd  its  tuitalilelMn  to  the  fhngn  of  the  iMti» 
ttttion— That  poetry  which  proceeds  from  divine  inspiration  is  not  be- 
j^AiA  <he  ph>vince  of  criticism— Critioism  win  enable  as  to  account  for 
the  «il^  of  the  irt»  as  well  4s  «o  form  a  just  ssthnBtk»  dfits  dignity  < 
that  the  opimon  t>f  the  diyiie  4irigin  of  poetiy  was  oomman  in  Greece— 
This  work  purely  critical :  and  consequently  theological  disquisitiona 
wili  be  avoided- The  jgeneral  distrlbation  of  the  subject  iitto  ihrete 
psrte,  the  natim  df  the  Terse»  the  style»  and  the  arfangemoftt. 

^OGAAtEft,  as  we  read  in  Plato^^  having  been  fre» 
quently  admonished  in  a  dream  to  apply  to  music ;  and 
esteemii\g  himself  bound  to  fulfil  a  duty,  which  appear» 
ed  to  have  been  imposed  upon  him  by4ivine  authority, 
began  with  composing  a  hymn  to  Apollo,  and  after*, 
wards  undertodiL  to  t/anslate  some  of  the  fables  of  ^* 
sop  into  verse.  This  he  did,  I  aj^ehend,  under  the 
persuasion,  that  the  first  fruits  of  his  poetry  (which  he 
esteemed  the  principal  bmnch  of  the  science  of  music') 
ought  to  be  consecrated  to  the  immortal  gods ;  and 
that  it  was  not  lawful  for  him,  who  was  but  litde  versed 
in  those  studies,  to  descend  to  lighter  subjects,  which 
perhaps  might  in  the  main  be  more  agreeable  to  his 
genius,  before  he  had  discharged  the  obligations  of  re^ 

^  In  Phmd.  sub  init 

^  "  What  then  is  education  ?— As  hr  as  respects  the  body  it  consists  in 
the  gymnastic  exercises ;  as  far  as  resi>ects  the  mind,  it  consists  in  h«ro 
mooy.''    FilaTo  4c  JIfep,  lah.  H.    AiUh^t  Mte. 


I 


30 


THE  DESIGN  AND  ARRANGEMENT     Lect.  S. 


>/ 


ligion.    It  is  my  intention,  gentlemen,  to  follow  the 
example  of  this  great  philosopher ;  and  since  the  uni- 
versity has  honoured  me  with  this  office  of  explaining 
to  you  the  nature  and  principles  of  poetry,  I  mean 
to  enter  upon  it  from  that  quarter,  whence  he  thought 
himself  obliged  to  commence  the  study  and  practice  of 
the  9rt.    I  have  determined,  therefore,  in  the  first  place, 
to  treat  of  sacred  poetr}%  that  species,  I  mean,  which 
was  cultivated  by  the  ancient  Hebrews,  and  which  is 
peculiarly  appropriated  to  subjects  the  most  solemn  and 
sublime ;   that  should  my  endeavours  prove  unequal  to 
so  great  a  subject,  I  may,  as  it  were,  with  favourable 
auspices,  descend  to  matters  of  inferior  importance.    I 
undertake  this  office,  however,  with  the  most  perfect 
conviction,  that  not  only  from  a  r^;ard  to  duty  it  ought 
to  be  executed  with  diligence ;   but  from  the  respecta^ 
bility  of  that  body,  at  whose  command  it  is  under- 
taken, it  ought  to  be  executed  with  honour  and  repu* 
tation ;   nor  is  it  merely  to  be  considered  what  the  in- 
tent of  the  institution  and  the  improvement  of  the  stu- 
dents may  require,  but  what  will  be  consistent  with 
the  dignity  of  this  university.    For  since  the  university, 
when  it  gave  its  sanction  to  this  species  of  di^ipline  by 
a  special  degree,  recommended  the  study  of  poetry, 
particularly  because  it  might  conduce  Co  the  improve- 
ment of  the  more  important  sciences,  as  well  sacred  as 
pro&ne,'  nothing  could  certainly  appear  more  useful  in 
itself,  or  more  agreeable  to  the  purpose  of  this  institu- 
tion, and  the  design  of  its  learned  patrons,  than  to  treat 
of  that  species  of  poetry,  which  constitutes  so  consider» 
able  a  part  of  sacred  literature,  and  excels  all  other  poe- 
try, not  less  in  the  sublimity  of  the  style,  than  in  the 
dignity  of  the  subject, 

9  See  the  statute  relating  to  tfae*poetic  lecture. 


tBOT.2.  OP  THESE  LECTURES.  31 

It  would  not  be  easy,  indeed,  to  assign  a  reason, 
why  the  writings  of  Homer,  of  Pindar,  and  of  Horace, 
should  engross  our  attention  and  monopolize  our  praise, 
while  those  of  Moses,  of  David  and  Isaiah  pass  totally 
unregarded.  Shall  we  suppose  that  the  subject  is  not 
adapted  to  a  seminary,  in  which  sacred  literature  has 
ever  maintained  a  precedence  ?  Shall  we  say,  that  it  is 
ibreign  to  this  assembly  of  promising  you^,  of  whom 
the  greater  part  have  consecrated  the  best  portion  of 
theic  time  and  labour  to  the  same  department  of  learn- 
ing f  Or  must  we  conclude,  that  the  writings  of  those 
men,  who  have  accomplished  <MiIy  as  much  as  human 
genius  and  ability  could  accomplish,  should  be  reduc- 
ed to  method  and  theory ;  but  that  those  which  boast  a 
much  higher  origin,  and  are  jusdy  attributed  to  the 
inspiration  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  may  be  considered  as  in- 
deed illustrious  by  their  native  force  and  beauty,  but 
not  as  conformable  to  the  principles  of  science,  nor  to 
be  circumscribed  by  any  rules  of  art  ?  It  is  indeed  most 
true,  that  sacred  poetry,  if  we  contemplate  its  origin 
alone,  is  far  superior  to  both  nature  and  art;  but  if  we 
would  rightly  estimate  its  excellencies,  that  is,  if  we 
wish  to  understand  its  power  in  exciting  the  humati 
a&ctions,  we  must  have  recourse  to  both :  for  we  must 
consider  what  those  affections  are,  and  by  what  means 
they  are  to  be  excited.  Moreover,  as  in  all  other 
branches  of  science,  so  in  poetry,  art  or  theory  con- 
sists in  a  certain  knowledge  derived  from  the  careful 
observation  of  nature,  and  confirmed  by  practice  and 
experience ;  for  men  of  learning  having  remarked  in- 
things  what  Mras  graceful,  what  was  fit,  what  was  con-^ 
ducive  to  the  attainment  of  certain  ends,  they  digested 
such  discoveries  as  had  been  casually  made,  and  re- 
duced them  to  an  established  order  or  method :  whence 


it  THE  DESIGN  AND  ARRANGEMENT    Lbct.  U. 

it  is  evident,  that  art  deduces  its  origin  from  die  works 
of  genius^  not  that  geraus  has  been  formed  or  directed 
by  art ;  and  that  it  is  propeiiy  applied  in  illustrating 
the  works  of  even  those  writers,  who  were  either  ig« 
9oraDt  of  its  rules,  or  inattentive  to  them.  Since  then 
k  is  die  purpose  of  sacred  poetry  to  Sotm  the  humaa 
mind  to  the  constant  habit  of  true  virtue  and  piety, 
and  to  escice  tibe  more  ardent  a&ctions  of  the  soul,  in 
order  to  direct  them  to  their  proper  end ;  whoever  liaft 
a  dear  ins^ht  into  the  instnanents,  the  machinery  as 
as  it  were,  by  which  this,  end  is  efibcted,  will  certainly 
eomribuie  nol  a  little  to  the  improvement  of  the  criiiGafc 
art  Kow  although  it  be  scarcely  possible  to  penetrate 
to  the  fountains  of  this  celestial  Nile^  yet  it  may  surely^ 
be  alkxwed  us  to  pursue  the  meanders  of  the  stream,  to 
mark  the  flux  and  reflux  of  its  waters,  and  even  to  con« 
duct  a  few  rivulets  into  the  adjacent  plains. 

The  sacred  poetry  is  undoubtedly  entitled  to  die  first 
rank  in  this  school,  since  from  it  we  ave  to  learn  both 
the  origin  of  the  art,  and  how  to  estimate  its  excellence. 
The  commencement  of  other  arts,  however  rude  and 
imperfect,  and  though  employed  only  on  light  and  trivial 
matters,  is  an  inquiry  geiiemlly  prcductive  of  satis&c- 
tion  and  deSg^K*  Here  we  may  contemplate  poetry  in 
its  very  beginning ;  not  so  much  the  offspring  of  hu* 
msMfi  geniui^  as  an  emanation  from  heaven  ;  not  gradu* 
ally  increasing  by  small  accessions,  but  from  its  birth 
possessing  a  certain  maturity  both  of  beauty  and  strength ; 
Wt  administering  to  trifling  passions^  and  oflTering  its 
delicious  incense  at  the  shrine  of  vanity,  but  the  priest* 

^  Otir  author  either  affects  the  orator  too  much  in  tliis  passage,  or  too 
carelessly  follows  those  Jews  and  Christians,  who  attribute  all  the  Hebrew 
writing  to  the  finger  of  God  himself:  He  seems  to  foi*g^t,  that,  before  tlic 
rites  of  Moses,  the  Muabibcs  eelebmled  tlie  victorio»  of  tbeir  king  in  a 


UcT.  9*  OF  THB8E  LECTURES.  13 

eas  of  divine  twtb,  the  interouncbte  between  earth  and 

hewen»    For  tim  was  the  first  aod  peculiar  office  of 

poetiy»  OQ  the  ooe  hand  to  commend  to  the  Almighty 

the  |»rayer8  and  than|;:agivings  oi  his  creatures»  and  to 

oelebmle  his  pmi^es  ;-^^Qd  on  the  other,  to  display  to 

iBankind  the  inyfiteries  of  the  divine  will,  bdA  the 

predictions  of  future  events ;  the  best  and  ooUest  of 

•tt  emfiiloyments.    It  i»  to  thb  observ«tiom  .ii¥kffd,  t^hst 

I  would  particularly  point  yo^  attention ;  for  it  is  plain 

fio^n»  tbe.geociial  tenour  of 'the  sacred  volume»  that  th^ 

indications  of  future  ieyents  have  been,  almost  without 

esmption»  i^evealed  in  numbeis  and  in  verse ;  aod  that 

ih^  same  spirit  was  aocus^tomed  tp  impart,  t:ty  iis  own 

omrgy,  -^  once  ^e  presentiment  of  things,  and  to  olothe 

it  in  «dl  the  .magmfioence,  in  all  the  elegance  of  poetry, 

that  the  sublimity  of  the  style  mi^t  consist  with  senti- 

ments  <so  infinitely  surpassing  all  human  conception* 

Whcn.consideced,  therefore,  in  this  point  of  view,  what 

is  thene  of  all  which  the  most  devoted  admirers  of  poet* 

«y  Ji^ave.ever  wiitten  or  fabricated  in  its  commendation, 

that  doosnot  &U  «greatly  shcut  of  the  truth  itself?  What 

«f.^  the  insinuations»  which  its  bitterest  adversaries 

«jeiy  elejfant  poem»  which  Moses  himself  has  preserved,  and  that  there 
vere  other  historical  poems,  even  more  ancient  than  the  prophetic  Messing 
5lf  Jacoh.  ^o  lliQfe  pur  author  4eems.not  sufficiently  to  have  attended  in 
this  place,  though  he  has  made  some  very  just  remarks  on  this  subject  in 
a  succeeding  lecture.  I  am  of  opinion»  indeed»  that  the  Hebrew  poetry 
ATiginated  is  the  choirs  of  danoen  (not  alvrajrs,  however,  of  a  religious 
Idnd)  when  Jthejpeatures  of  the  dancer  accorded  with  the  music.  To  this 
I  think  the  frequent  parallelisms  of  the  verses  may  be  referred,  of  which  no 
man  has  treated  more  satisfactorily  than  our  author»  Lect  19.  If  indeed 
JCosea  was  jMTt  the  Institutor  of  a  practice  totally  new  to  the  Hebrews,  I 
mean  the  accommodation  of  poetry  to  music  and  dancing,  it  follows  that 
poetry  existed  long  before  his  time»  rustic  and  unciiltivated  at  first»  no 
doubt,  but  afterwards  more  perfect  and  refined.  Nor  is  it  probable»  that 
the  {urst.essi^  jn  poetry  were  made  in  the  time  of  Moses»  which  may  be- 
called  the  golden  age  of  the  Hebrew  language»  and  in  which  we  meet  witl» 
poetry  too  perfect  to  have  been  produced  in  the  infancy  of  the  art,      M. 

9 


'/ 


S4         THE  DESIGN  AND  ARRANGEMENT      L^ct.  2l 

hate  objected  against  it,  which  is  not  refuted  by  simply 
eontemplatifig  the  nature  and  design  of  the  Hebrew  po^ 
etry  f  LcC  those  who  affect  to  despise  the  Muses  cease 
to  attempt,  for  the  tices  of  a  few,  who  may  abuse  the 
best  of  things,  to  bring  into  disrepute  a  most  laudable 
talent.  Let  them  cease  to  speak  of  ibstt  art  as  light  or 
trifling  in  itself,  to  accuse  it  as  profone  Or  impious ;  that 
art,  which  has  been  conceded  tp  man  by  the  favour  of 
his  Creator,  and  for  the  most  sacred  purposes ;  that  art, 
consecrated  by  the  authority  of  God  himself»  and  by 
his  example  in  his  miost  august  ministrations. 

Whether  the  Greeks^  origitiaUy  derived  their  poetry 
from  the  fountains  erf*  nature,'  or  received  it  through  a 
diflferent  channel  from  a  remoter  source,  appears  a  ques* 
tion  of  little  importance,  and  not  easy  to  be  detei^mined; 
Thus  far,  however,  is  evident,  that  an  opinion  wasprev^ 
aient  in  Gteece  concerning  the  nature  and  origin  of  po- 
etry, which  appears  most  groundless  and  absurd,  if  we 
contemplate  only  thfe  poetry  of  Greece,  though  truly 
and  justly  applicable  to  that  of  the  Hebrews.     Thtf 
considered  poetry  as  something  sacred  and  celestial,  not 
produced  by  human  art  of  genkis>«but  altogether  a  divine 
gift.     Among  them,  therefore,  poets  were  accounted  ^ 
sacred,  the  ambassadors,  of  heaven,  men  favoured  with 
an  immediate  intercourse  and  familiarity  with  the  gods; 
The  mysteries  and  ceremonies  of  their  religion,  and  the 
worship  of  their  deities,  were  all  performed  in  verse ; . 
and  the  most  ancient  of  their  compositions,  their  ora- 
cles,  always  consisted  of  numbers.     This  circumstance 
I  must  add  rendered  them  not  only  more  sublime,  but 
more  deserving  of  credit  in  the  eyes  of  the  common 
people  ;  for  they  conceived  it  equally  the  effect  of  divine 
inspiration  to  foresee  events,  and  to  express  them  in- 
extempokraneous  verse.     Thus  they  seem  to  have  re- 


IrscT.d.  OF  THESE  LECTURES.  is 

tuned  some  traces  of  an  qsinion  iiBpressed  upon  the 
minds  of  men  in  the  very  earliest  ages  concerning  the 
true  and  ancient  ppetry,  even  after  they  had  lo$t  the  re- 
ality itself,  and  when  re;}igion  and  poetry  had  by  the  U^ 
centiousiiess  of  fic;tjon  reciprocally  corrupted  each  other, 
Sioce,  .therefore,  in  the  sacred  writings  the  only  spec- 
imens of  the  primeval  and  genuine  poetry  ^re  to  be  ' 
founds  and  since  these  are  hot  less  venerable  for  their 
antiquity  than  fpr  their  divine  original,  I  conceived  it 
iny  duty  in  the  first  place  to  investigate  the  nature  o^f 
these  writings,  as  far  as  might  be  cpQsistent  with  the 
de^gn  of  this  institution :    in  other  words,  it  b  not  my 
intention  to  expound  to  the  student  of  theology  the  ora- 
cles of  divine  truths    but  to  recommend  to  the  notice 
of  theyou^  who  is  addicted  to  the  politer  science^  and 
3tydious  of  the  elegancies  of  composition,  sonie  of  the 
first  and  choicest  specimens  of  poetic  taste.     The  diflL 
culty  of  the  undertaking  ought  probably  to  hayp  4i^ 
couraged  me  from  the  attempt ;   yet  with  you^  geptle^ 
men,  I  trust  my  temerity  will  find  this  excuse,  namely, 
that  I  have  undertaken  a  subject  the  mqsX  ffoble  in  it- 
self, and  the  best  adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  my 
office.    I  trust  that  you  will  allow  me  at  least  the  tnerit 
of  distinguishing  what  was  most  worthy  (^  this  place 
and  this  assembly ;   though  perhaps  I  have  too  rashly 
engaged,  without  a  due  Qoosid^ratjoq  c^  my  own  abil?» 
ities. 

In  this  disquisition  it  is  my  intention  to  pur$Me  that 
track  which  the  nature  of  the  subject  seems  to  require. 
Three  points  are  to  be  con^dered  in  every  poem : 
First,  the  argumefit  pr  matter,  and  the  manner  of  treat- 
ing it;  what  disposition,  what  order,  and  what  general 
form  is  adapted  to  each  species  of  composition :  Sec- 
pndly,  the  elocution  and  style ;   in  which  are  comprci. 


36        THE  DESIGN  AND  ARRANOEJKtlNT      L»ct.  ». 

hended  lively  and  elevated  setitiments,  splendour  and 
perspicuity  of  arrangement,  beauty  and  taricty  of  ifn-t 
^g^ry,  and  strength  and  elegance  of  diction :  Lasdy^ 
the  harmony  of  the  verse  or  numbers  is  to  be  consider^ 
ed,  not  only  as  intended  to  captivate  the  ear^  but  ad 
adapted  to  the  subject,  and  expressive  of  it,  and  Ks  cat- 
culated  to  excite  corresponding  emotioiis  in  the  souL> 
We  shall  now  consider  what  is  to  be  performed  in  each 
df  the^e  departments,  ahd  how  far  we  may  vrith  ^f^^ 
^nd  with  any  pix}spect  bf  advantage^  engage  iii  a  crHitel 
examination  cf  the  Hebrew  poetry. 

With  respect  to  the  nature  of  the  versification  (if  I 
may  be  allowed  td  reverse  tny  own  arrangement,  and  to 
speak  of  that  first,  which  eonstituted  the  last  division  of 
iny  subject)  I  fear  that  little  can  be  produced  to  you^ 
satisfaction  or  my  own ;   since  it  is  manifisst  not  only 
from  the  unsuccessful  endeavours  of  the  most  learned 
then,  but  from  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself,  that  scarce^- 
ly  any  real  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  versification  is 
now  to  be  attained :   and  the  only  merit  to  which  any 
modem  writer  can  lay  claim,  is  that  of  distinguishing 
certain  facts  (if  any  there  be)  from  uncertain  conjectur&^ 
and  demonstrating  how  imperfect  our  information  must 
of  necessity  be  upon  this  topic.    Were  the  inquiryv 
however,  concerning  the  Hebrew  nietre  to  be  wholly 
overlooked  ;  yet  since  some  vestiges  of  verse  are  dist> 
cernible,  a  few  observations  of  a  general  nature  wiU 
probably  occur,  which  we  shall  in  the  first  place  slight- 
ty  adven  to,  and  afterwards,  as  ocbaston  serves,  partic* 
ularize  and  explain. 

That  part  of  these  lectures,  ob  the  other  hand,  which 
treats  of  the  style  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  will  afford  very 
ample  scope  for  disquisition ;  since  it  possesses  not  only 
all  the  principal  excellencies  which  we  common  to  po* 


LiCT.  9.  OF  THESE  LECTURES.  37 

f  ctry,  but  possesses  many  also  which  are  proper  and  pe- 
culiar to  itself. 

Li  the  remail&ig  part,  which  though  first  in  order 
and  dignity,  will  be  the  last  to  be  treated  of,  we  roust 
with  diligence,  (as  considering  the  difficulty  of  the  sub- 
ject)  and  at  the  same  time  with  caution  engage ;  lest 
idiile  we  wander  too  much  at  large  in  the  ample  field 
of  poetry,  we  should  imprudently  break  in  upon  the 
sacred  boundaries  of  theology.  It  will  be  our  business 
on  this  occasion  to  cUstribute  the  Hebrew  poems,  ac- 
cording to  their  diftrem  species,  into  different  classes ; 
lo  consider  ifi  each  what  is  most  worthy  of  attention; 
and  perhaps  to  compare  them  with  those  of  Greeoe  and 
Rame^  tf  there  be  any  extant  of  the  same  kmd. 


THE  FIRST  PART. 

OF  THE  HEBBEW  METRE. 

LECTURE  III. 

THE  HEBREW  POETBT  IS  METRICAL. 

The  necessity  of  anqutmg^  into  the  nature  of  the  Hebrew  rene— The  He- 
brew poetry  proved  to  be  metrical  from  the  alphsbeticsi  poems,  snd  from 
the  equality  and  correspondence  of  the  sentiments ;  sIqo  from  the  poeti* 
cal  diction— Some  of  the  most  obvious  properties  of  the  Terse— The 
rhythm  and  mode  of  scanning  totally  lost :  proved  from  frets— The  po- 
etical conformation  of  the  sentences— The  Greek  and  I#ti|i  poetry  mate- 
rially different  from  the  Hebrew,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  languages— 
Hence  a  peculiar  pToperiy  in  the  prose  versions  of  the  Hebrew  poetry 
and  the  attempts  to  exhibit  this  poetry  in  the  verse  of  other  languages. 

Ok  the  very  first  attempt  to  elucidate  the  nature  of  the 
sacred  poetry,  a  question  presents  itself  uncommonly 
difficult  and  obscure,  concerning  the  nature  of  the  He> 
brew  verse.  This  question  I  would  indeed  gladly  have 
avoided,  could  I  have  abandoned  it  consistently  with  my 
design.  But  since  it  appears  essential  to  every  species 
of  poetry,  that  it  be  confined  to  numbers,  and  consist  of 
some  kind  of  verse,  (for  indeed  wanting  this,  it  would 
not  only  want  its  most  agreeable  attributes,  but  would 
scarcely  deserve  the  name  of  poetry)  in  treaung  of  the 
poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  it  appears  absolutely  necessary 
to  demonstrate,  that  those  parts  at  least  of  the  Hebrew 
writings  which  we  term  poetic,  are  in  a  metrical  form, 
and  to  inquire  whether  any  thing  be  certainly  known 
concerning  the  nature  and  principles  of  this  versification 
or  not.  This  part  of  my  subject  therefore  I  undertake, 
not  «s  hoping  to  illustrate  it  by  any  new  observations, 


LstT.  A.         OF  THE  BEBltEW  METftE.  «9 

bat  merely  with  a  view  of  inquiring  whether  it  will  ad- 
mit of  any  illustration  at  all.  Even  thb  I  shall  attempt 
with  brevity  and  caution,  as  embarked  upon  an  ocean 
dishonoured  by  the  shipwreck  of  many  eminent  persons, 
and  therefore  presuming  only  to  coast  along  the  shore. 

In  the  first  place  (notwithstanding  that  a  c<mtrary 
(pinion  has  been  supported  by  some  of  the  learned)  I 
think  it  will  be  sufficiently  apparent,  if  we  but  advert  to 
them  a  little  more  attentively,  that  certain  of  the  Hebiew 
writings  are  not  only  animated  with  the  true  poetic  sphr-  ^ 
it,  but  in  some  degree  confined  to  numbers.  For  there  » 
appear  in  almost  every  part  of  them  such  marks  and 
yestiges  of  verse,  as  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  re« 
main  in  any  language,  after  the  sound  and  pronunciation 
(as  is  the  case  with  the  Hebrew  at  present)  were,  through 
extreme  antiquity,  become  almost  totally  obsolete. 

There  existed  a  certain  kind  of  poetry  among  the 
Hebrews,  principally  intended,  it  should  seem,  for  the 
assistance  of  the  memory  :    in  which,  when  there  was 
little  connection  between  the  sentiments,  a  sort  of  or- 
der or  method  was  preserved,  by  the  initial  letters  of  u^ 
each  line  or  stanza  following  the  order  of  the  alphabet. 
Of  this  there  are  several  examples  extant  among  the 
sacred  poems  ;^  and  in  these  examples  the  verses  are  so 
exactly  marked  and  defined,  that  it  is  impossible  to  mis- 
lake  them  for  prose ;  and  particularly  if  we  attentively 
consider  the  verses,  and  compare  them  with  one  anoth- 
er, since  they  are  in  general  so  regularly  accommodate* 
ed,  that  word  answers  to  word,  and  almost  syllable  to 
syllable.    This  being  the  case ;   though  an  appeal  can 
scarcely  be  made  to  the  ear  on  this  occasion,  the  eye 

1  Psalm  XXT»  xtxir,  :axfn,  cti^  czii,  cxix,  cslr.  Pro?.  zxxL  from  the 
10th  vene  to  the  end.  The  whole  of  the  LtnifatKtionfl  of  JeremiaK  except 
the  last  chapter.    Amh»r*9  ^9te. 


40  or  THE  Hevneiy  H1^^^■      u^t^  s- 


Itself  will  distiiigiush  the  poptie  <)iviskm  imd  wwige^ 
ment,  iuid  also  that  90t«ie  latxmr  and  accuracy  has  beoi^ 
cmploy/ed  '}n  adapting  the  word»  to  the  mea^inrie^ 

The  Hebrew  poetry  has  likewise  ianolher  property 
altogether  peculisr  to  m^riosd  cpmpwttion.    Wntcfs 

.  who  are  ^onfiaed  witUn  the  tca^^mels  jof  viense,  are 

generally  induigpd  with  the  UccMeof  iMmg  wAnda  in  a 

./  v^^nse  snd^maHoerr^tQK^tie  from  jdieir  ooaein»(9B  acoeptai» 
tion^  aod  in  ^«le^fiegree  contfary  to  die  amlogy  of  the 
laogLu^;  so  that  ^omeitimcai^y  Morten  them  <hylak« 
^  ing  from  the  number  4>f  ^  ayllftUea^  and  aometimes 
venture  to  add  a  ^Uahte  ^W  Ae  lasihe  jgf  adapiting  them 
to  their  immediiate  piiijpose.  This  praot^ce  la  not  only 
effectual  to  the  lacilitating  .^f  the  versification,  but  also 
to  the  prevention  of  aatiety  by  varying  the  sounds^  an^ 
/^  by  iniparting  to  the  style  a  certain  peculiar  colouring» 
(^  \v4iich  elevates  it  aboi^  &e  language  .of  the  vulgar. 
Poetry  therefore  always  makes  use  of  some  j^h  arti« 
£ce,  as  accords  bcrst  with  the  geoias  oi  each  language. 
This  is  e^cemplified  particularly  in  two  M&pects :  First» 
in  the*use  of  glosses  or  foreign  language ;  suid  secondly» 
in  that  of  certain  irrt^gular  or  less  received  forms  of 
common  words.'  The  exti^eme  liberty  which  the 
Greeks  aUowed  themselves  in  these  respects  is  remarka- 
ble; and  their  languiige,  beyond  every  other,  because 
of  the  variety  and  copiousness  of  the  different  dialects, 
which  prevailed  in  the  several  states  of  Greece,  was  pe- 
culiarly favourable  to  it.  Next  to  them  none  perhaps 
Jiave  admitted  these  liberties  more  freely  than  the  He- 
brews, who  not  only  by  the  use  of  glosses,  but  by  that 
/      of  anomalogs  language,  and  chiefly  of  certain  particles' 

•  Sec  Abi»t0t.  Poet.  c.  22. 

'  The  poetical  particles,  which  tlie  grammarians  in  general  call  para- 
go^c,  (or  redundant)  are  as  follow.    *i  added  to  nouns :  Nux0.  xxir.  3- 


LftCT.  S.  OF  THE  HEBREW  METRE.  41 

peculiar  to  metrical  composition,  and  added  frequently 
at  the  end  of  words,  have  so  varied  their  style,  as  to  form 

PsAX.  1. 10.  Itxix.  3.  cxiv.  8.  civ.  11,  30.    Isai.  M.  9.  (it  occurs  hcf» 
twice.)    Z£ra.  ii.  14. 

*'  isa  Suun.  xxiv.  3.  as  slso  "vl^n,  Psak.  1.  10,  8tc.  seems  to  be  a  pleonasm 
*  mus  peculiar  to  the  Syria*.  For  thus  it  is  common  for  that  people  to 
«<  express  themselres  T^Tr  mau  The  son  of  Am  David,  Mattr.  L  1.  inn*| 
*■  rmxQ*  The  countenance  of  hi*  Lord,  Isai.  i.  20. 13<90V»  Psai.  cxiv.  8. 
**  It  was  formerly  read  mtnb,  as  appears  from  the  SarruAsisr,  v^cmc 
.    «^*fer.'*     H. 

«  Added  to  nouns,  advesrbs,  prepositions,  is  common  in  the  poets  *.  also 
to  the  participles,  Benoni,  singp.  masc.  &  fern.  6sir.  xlix.  11.  Psas.  ci.  5. 
Psov.  xxviii.  16.  Jsm.  xxii.  23,  xlix.  15.  li.  13.  fizsx.  xxviL  3.  This, 
however,  the  Masorites  have  sometimes  rashly  expunged. 

Concerning  the  \  when  added  to  verbs  in  the  second  pers.  fem.  sing.  pret. 
I  have  sometimes  my  doubts  whether  it  be  an  error  or  not.  Certainly  the 
Masorites  sre  of  opinion  that  it  should  always  be  expunged.  See  Jia.  xiti. 
SI.  xxii.  33.  xxxL  21,  and  Euk.  xvi.  where  it  occurs  eleven  times.  Now 
it  is  not  in  the  least  probable  that  m  one  chapter  the  same  error  should  so 
frequently  take  place.  **  But  in  these  eleven  places  many  M3S.  confirm 
•*the  Masoretic  Ken,*  for  the  « is  wanting.'*  K.  It  may  also  be  a  Syriac 
gloss,  which  is  the  opinion  of  CAmn ;  Crit,  Sac,  lib.  iU.  c  xiit.  8.  Though 
there  is  a  passage,  where  it  occurs  in  the  same  person  masc.  «niDM  ^a,  **  be- 
^  cause  thou  hast  said,"  Psal.  Ixxxix.  3.  So  indeed  almost  all  the  old  in- 
I  terpveters,  except  the  Chaldean  paraphrast,  have  taken  it ;  and  rightly,  in- 
deed, if  regard  is  to  be  paid  to  the  context  or  the  parallelism  of  the  sen» 
fences.  But  this  I  rather  esteem  an  error,  though  the  Masorites  have  not 
noted  it  as  such. 

*«  Verbs  in  which  the  « is  added  to  the  second  piers,  fem.  smg.  pret.  fol- 
**  low  the  Syriac  and  Arabic  Ibrm."    H. 

ID  for  O,  or  on,  occurs  frequently  in  the  Hebrew  poetry.  See  Psai.  if. 
9,  4,  5.  where  it  appears  five  times :  sometimes  in  the  singular  fori;  see 
Isai.  xliv.  15.  liii.  &  Job  xx.  23.  xxii.  3.  xxvii  23.  Psauc  xi.  7.  It  is  very 
often  merely  paragogic,  or  redundant  noa  simply  seems  to  be  altogether 
poetical ;  it  occurs  in  Nshxm.  ix.  11  and  is  taken  firom  the  song  of  Moses, 
Exon.  XV.  5.— It  is,  however,  not  the  same  with  prefixes  or  sufiixes.        , 

**  Isai,.  liii.  8.  Msb.  The  SarroAeunr  in  this  place  is  n^  ue  ^^«mi?o»  (he 
**  was  led  unto  death  :)  in  this  it  follows  the  Arabic  version,  which  reads 
«mob."  '  H. 

Of  these  particles,  which  I  call  poetical,  there  occur  very  few  examples 
in  the  prose  parts  of  Scripture,  indeed  t  do  not  know  that  there  are  any 
more  than  the  following :  \  Gsx.  i.  24.  but  instead  of  in»  Vt^,  the  8a- 
XAaiTA9  copy  has  irmrr  n^n,  as  it  is  also  expressed  m  the  Hebrew  in  tiie 
following  verse.  %  Gsir.  xxxi.  39.  twice :  but  it  is  also  wanting  in  the  Sa^ 
*  A  MmokiIs  tinn  ftr  a  nrioiB  n^Hscii 

6 


43  OF  THE  HEBREW  METRE.  Lbot.  ^ 

to  themselves  a  distinct  poetical  dialect.  Thus  br^ 
therefore,.  I  thank  we  may  with  safety  affirm»  diat  the 

mtritan  copy :  althou^  it  may  possibly  be  meant  for  a  pronominal  aflix. 
Also  in  Ruth  iii.  3,  4.  three  times  ;  vr.  5.  and  in  2  Kiiras  \v.  33.  *'  But  in 
**  all  these  places,  many  MSS.  confinn  the  Bfasoret  !c  Keri  $  for  « is  wanting^.** 
K.  Lastly,  lO,  Exon.  xJiiii.  31.  but  instead  of  lonvv,  the  Sbptcaoist  and 
t^  VirLOATx  read  l^jltni,  and  the  cont^t  favours  this  reading. 

Hitberttf  perhaps  misrl^t  be  refisrred  the  n  and  |  paragog^io»  and  the  n^^ 
tive  iH'  wbioh  oocur  more  fr^uently  in  the  poets  than  elsewhere. 

These  are  most,  if  not  all  of  them,  examples  of  anomalies,  which  serve 
to  distinguisfai  particularly  the  poetic  Dialect  To  demonstrate  moK  fully» 
how  freely  they  ar«  made  use  of  by  the  sacred  poets,  I  shall  annex  a  spec*-^ 
men,  which  Abarbsjiel.exhibitf  aa  ceUected  from  one  short  pgem,  namely» 
the  song  of  Mose9.  **  You  may  obaerve^"  says  he,  **  in  thia  poem,  wor49 
**  sometimea.  contracted  for  the  sake  of  the  measui^e»  and  soroetimea  length»- 
**  ened  and  extended  by  additional  letters  and  syllables,  according  aa  ther 
**  simple  terms  may  be  redundant  or  deficient  The  letters  which  in  thie 
**  canticle  are  superadded,  are  as  follow :  the  vau  and  jod  twice  in  the  word 
**  ysfyyy*  for  in  reality  O^  would  have  been  quite  sufficient :  the  jod  ia  alaa 
**  added  in  ^tm»:  the  vau  m  itiism^  the  vau  in  iDaniHi  the  vau  also!» 
^  iidDS :  in  iiaybdn ;  in  noiriM :  the  thau  in  ivno^t"  (In  truth  this  form  of 
Qouns  appears  to  be  altogether  poetical  i  many  examples  of  which  may  be- 
found  in  Gcass.  Phil  Sac,  p.  369.  all  of  themt  However,  from  tllepoetic  and 
prophetic  books.)  **  The  vau  m  -nMTdn;  in  MOStaru  The  deficient  are  jod 
<«  in  IV  m&n;  SD  in  iDRbon  for  Dma  Mbon :  The  vau  in  nbm  for  V)VlTa> 
«<  so  also  the  word  aa^  is  deficient  in  the  verse  T9)3  ov»  ^3  lavai ;  for  th* 
**  prince  of  the  prophets  cannot  be  suspected  of  emng  in  grammatical  or 
<*  orthographical  accuracy ;  but  the  necessity  of  the  verse  and  a  proper  re. 
<*  gard  to  harmony  so  required  it**  AaamB.  in  MmtiiM  Duteri.  ad  Ukr, 
Cosai.  a  BuxToario,  edit.  Banl,  1660^  p.  413.  To  these  examples  one 
migbt  add  from  the  same  canticle  la  twice  in  109,  s.Epith^tic  in  vnoft^K^ 
Paragogic  in  piaY. 

Concerning  the  glosses  or  forago  words,  which  occur  in  the  Hebrew 
poetry ;  in  the  present  state  of  the  Hebrew  language,  it  ia  difiicult  to  pvo^ 
nounce  on  the  rums,  aa  it  were,  of  neighbouring  and  contemporary  dialects  : 
since  possibly  those  words  which  are  commonly  tdten  for  Chaldaic  (for 
instance)  might  have  been  oommon^  to  both  langui^^  ;  on  the  contrary, 
some  of  those,  which  more  rarely  occur,  and  tiie  etymology  of  which  we 
are  ignoraiit  about,  may  have  been  borrowed  from  the  neighbouring  dia* 
lects.  Since,  iiowever,  there  «re  some  words  which  more  freqtiently  occur 
in  tlie  poetical  remains,  and  which  are  not  elsewhere  to  be  found  but  in  the 
Chaldee ;  we  may  reasonably  conjeoture  cooeeming  these,  that  they  have 
been  introduced  into  the  Hebrew,  or  at  least,  after  becoming  obsolete  ia 
common  language,  might  be  again  made  use  of:  such  are  the  following, 
3ai^  (a  son)  Koshei  (truth)  Stgf^  (he  incre«sed>^  JSkekaeh  (he  praised)  Za- 


t^mr.X  OF  T&E  HEBREW  METKE.  48 

Hebrew  poetiy  is  metrical.  One  or  two  of  the  pecu- 
fiar]tie«d80  of  their  versification  it"niay'be|>Foper  to  re» 
naork,  which  as  they  are  Tery  observable  in  those  poemSi 
in.which  «heifcnts  are  -deifined  by  the  initial  letters,  may 
at  least  be  reasonably  ooojectored  of  the  rest.  The  first 
xd  these  is,  that  ite  verses  are  very  unequal  in  length ; 
<he  dtortest  consisting  of  six  or  seven  syliaUes ;  the 
longest  extending  to  about  twice  that  number ;  the  same 
{>oem  is,  faoweyeny  generally  continued  throughout  iHk 
"memts  not  veiy  «neqoal  to  eaoh  odier.  I  must  also  ob^ 
serve^  that  the  close  of  the  vense  generally  falb  whene 
the  membeiis'of  the  sentences  are  divided.^ 

kaph  (he  lifted  up)  Gnuck  (in  the  Heboew  Txick,)  he  pressed,  &c.  01> 
^rve  MoseSy'howerer,  in  the  exordium  of  Ills  last  benediction,  BrrT.  zxxiil. 
Ims  he  not  idso  frQqti«ntly  wbmtted  of  Chaldaisms  ?  What  is  una  ?  whic)i 
«gain  occurs,  vet.  31.  What  is  :aaa  ^  in  both  fonn  and  sense  Chaldaic. 
"What  T\^^  ?  a  word  scarcely  received  into  common  use  amonp  the  Hebrews 
tm  af^  ^tfae  fiabylomsfa  caiptivity  i  especially  since  the  Hebrew  abounded 
in  synonymOtta  tenns,  etprcssive  of  the  Ij9w  «/  Ofd.  ^But  perhaps  thip 
last  word  in  this  place  ia  rightly  auspected  to  4»e  an  esror.  See  Ka^isi- 
coTT,  Dittert.  I.  of  ihe  Bebrtrm  Text,  p.  427,  and  HouBioAirr  in  loc.) 
Isaiaby  httttreiwr,  «kgintly  adopts  the  Chaldaic  fon»,  spekkmg  of  Babylon, 
in  the  word  name»,  which  in  the  •Hehiew  weuld  beinamD,  chap  xiv.  4- 
Not  less  appositely  on  the  same  subject  does  the  Psalmist  introduce  the 
iBTOtd  '^Off^Yxn,  PsAL.  cxxxrii.  3j  which  is  the  Chaldaic  for  tu^bbittr,  as  the 
^^ttldean  9»a|4ifiBt  himself  aUawa»  who  oenders  it  by  the  syAonyinoiu 
tenn  4(iaiD,  aa  elsewhere  he  renders  the  .word  bb«r ;  (4ee  Bxax.  xxvi.  12. 
xxix.  19.  xixviii.  12,  13.)  nor  indeed  do  the  other  interpreters  pi-oduce 
any  t^ng  to  the  purpose.  Some  instances  of  grammatical  anomalies  in  the 
ipkmses  hafye  been  detected^  siieh  are  the  iblUkwing,  8|yriac  or  Chaldaic : 
^3  for  ^  PsjiA.  czvi.  thrice ;  eiii.cfive  times ;  also  in  Jxa.  xi.  15.  \T)  for  1« 
Pbal.  cxvi.  12.  1«  as  a  termination  plur.  nom.  masc.  for  DS  Job.  iv.  2.  xxiY. 
S2.  xlcxi.  la  and  frequently  elsewhere  i  also  Paot.  xxxi.  3.  Lam.  iv.  3. 
£aaK.  xxvi.  IS.    Mic.  iii.  12. 

*•  rrnir,  the  Samabitajt  has  vuc,  in  the  Arabic  form,  aan,  namo,  are 
*•  Chaldaic  as  Well  as  Arabic.  irbVun,  but  this  word  seems  fo  have  follow- 
^  ed^hectymol(|gy  0f  the  Arabic  verb  Vstn,  he  iSntntl,  he  lei:  captive  /  whence 
^*  the  Septuagint  awayayathf  nfta^  i  and  tbe  Chaldaic  apiu,  he  carried  avfOff 
«  captive.**    H.     *  Author'»  JSTote. 

*«  This  mode  of  versification  is  not  altogether  foreign  to  our  own  lan- 
|;««ge^  as  is  evadent-frem  «ene  ^of  «ar  eaziiest  writers,  partioularly  Piaan 
Plowvajt.    8.  H. 


44  OF  THE  HEBREW  METRE.  Lbct.  3. 

As  to  the  real  quantity,  the  rhythm,  or  modulation» 
these  from  the  present  state  of  the  language  seem  to  be 
altogether  unknown,  and  even  to  admit  of  no  invesdga* 
tion  by  human  art  or  industry.  It  is  indeed  evidei^ 
that  the  true  Hebrew  pronunciation  is  totally  lost  The 
rules  concerning  it,  which  were  devised  by  the  modem 
Jews  many  ages  after  the  language  of  their  ancestors 
had  fallen  into  disuse,  have  been  long  since  suspected 
by  the  learned  to  be  destitute  of  authority  and  truth  : 
for  if  in  reality  the  Hebrew  language  is  to  be  confimn- 
ed  to  the  positions  of  these  men,  we  must  be  under  the 
necessity  of  confessing,  not  only,  what  we  at  present 
experience,  that  the  Hebrew  poetry  possesses  no  re- 
mains of  sweetness  or  harmony,  but  that  it  never  was 
possessed  of  any.  The  truth  is,  it  was  neither  possible 
for  them  to  recal  the  true  pronunciation  of  a  language 
long  since  obsolete,  and  to  institute  afresh  the  rules  of 
orthoepy ;  nor  can  any  person  in  the  present  age  so 
much  as  hope  to  effect  any  thing  to  the  purpose  by  the 
aid  of  conjecture,  in  a  matter  so  remote  from  our  sens-, 
es,  and  so  involved  in  obscurity.  In  this  respect,  in* 
deed,  the  delicacy  of  all  languages  is  most  remarkable. 
After  they  cease  to  be  spoken,  they  are.  still  significant 
of  some  sound ;  but  that  in  the  mouth  of  a  stranger 
becomes  most  dissonant  and  barbarous :  the  vital  grace 
is  wanting,  the  native  sweetness  is  gone,  the  colour  of 
primeval  beauty  is  faded  and  decayed.  The  Greek 
and  Latin  doubtless  have  now  lost  much  of  their  prist« 
tine  and  native  sweetness  ;  and  as  they  are  spoken,  the 
pronunciation  is  different  in  different  nations,  but  eveiy 
where  barbarous,  and  such  as  Attic  or  Roman  ears 
would  not  have  been  able  to  endure.  In  these,  how. 
ever,  the  rhythm  or  quantity  remains,  each  retains  its 
peculiar  numbersi  and  the  versification  is  distinct ;  b^t 


LscT.S.  OP  THE  HEBREW  METRE.  45 

the  state  of  the  HelH^w  is  &r  more  unfavourable,  which,  ^ 
destitute  of  vpwel  sounds,  has  remained  altogether  si*  " 
lent  (if  I  may  use  the  expression)  incapable  of  utterance 
upwards  of  two  thousand  years.  Thus,  not  so  much 
as  the  number  of  syllables,  of  which  each  word  consist- 
ed,  could  with  any  certainty  be  defined,  much  less  the 
length  or  quantity  of  the  syllables :  and  since  the  regu- 
lation of  the  metre  of  any  language  must  depend  upon 
two  particulars,  I  ipean  the  number  and  the  length  of 
the  syllables,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  utterly  unat* 
tainable  in  the  Hebrew,  he  who  attempts  to  restore  the 
true  and  genuine  Hebrew  versification,  erects  an  edifice 
without  a  foundation.  To  some  of  those  indeed  who 
have  laboured  in  this  matter,  thus  much  of  merit  is  to 
be  allowed ;  that  they  rendered  the  Hebrew  poetry, 
which  formerly  sounded  uncommonly  harsh  and  bar«. 
barous,  in  some  degree  softer  and  more  pdbhed  ;  they 
indeed  furnished  it  with  a  sort  of  versification,  and  mett 
rical  arrangement,  when  baffled  in  their  attempts  to  dis« 
cover  the  reaL  That  we  are  justified  in  attributing  to 
them  any  thing  more  than  this,  is  neither  apparent  from 
the  nature  of  the  thing,  nor  from  the  arguments  with 
which  they  attempt  to  defend  their  conjectures.'  Their 
endeavours  in  truth  would  rather  tend  to  supersede  all 
inquiry  on  a  subject  which  the  most  learned  and  ingen- 
ious have  investigated  in  vain ;  and  induce  us  to  relin- 
quish as  lost,  what  we  see  cannot  be  retrieved. 

But  although  nothing  certain  can  be  defined  concern- 
ing the  metre  of  the  particular  verses,  there  is  yet  anoth^ 
er  artifice  of  poetry  to  be  remarked  of  them  when  in  a 
eoUective  state,  when  several  of  them  are  taken  togeth. 
er.  In  the  Hebrew  poetry,  as  I  before  remarked,  ther^ 
may  be  observed  a  certain  conformation  of  the  sentenQ*. 

«  Sec  the  brief  oonfutatkn  af  9ialiap  Hm*i  ilelxrtw  Metiti. 


46  OF  THE  HEBREW  METRE.  Li*t.  >• 

cs,  the  nature  of  which  is,  that  a  complete  sense  is  al- 
most equally  infused  into  every  component  part,  and 
that  every  member  constitutes  an  entire  verse.  So  that 
as  the  poems  divide  themselves  in  a  manner  spontane- 
ously into  periods,  for  the  most  pait  equal ;  so  the  pe- 
riods themselves  are  divided  into  verses,  most  common 
ly  couptets,  thOH^  frequently  of  greater  ki^h.  This 
is  dnefly  observable  in  those  passages,  which  frequently 
occur  in  the  Hebrew  poetry,  in  which  they  treat  one 
subject  in  many  different  ways,  and  dwell  upon  the  same 
sentiment ;  when  they  express  the  same  thing  in  dilfer* 
ent  words,  or  different  things  in  a  similar  form  of  words ; 
when  equals  refer  to  equals,  and  opposites  to  opposites  t 
and  since  ^s  artifice  of  composition  seldom  fails  to 
produce  even  in  prose  an  agreeable  and  measured  ca- 
dence, we  can  scca-oely  dou^btthat  it  must  have  imparted 
to  their  poetry,  were  we  masters  of  the  versification,  an 
exquisite  degree  of  beauty  and  grace.  In  this  circum- 
stance, therefore,  which  is  common  to  most  of  the  He- 
brew poems,  we  find,  if  not  a  rule  and  principle,  at  least 
a  characteri^ic  of  the  sacred  poetry :  insomuch  that  in 
that  language  the  word  Mizmoi^  (or  Psalm)  according 

•  Zamar,  ht  cut  oft^  be  poruned,  namety,  tiie  superfluous  «nd  luxuriant 
.  brancbes  of  tfees.  Befioe  SUmorahf  a  t^raneh^  or  f«4r/  Marmmrah,  a  prutH* 
ini^-hoot.  Also  he  sung,  or  chanted ;  he  cut  his  voice  by  the  notes  in  sin^ 
ing,  or  divided  it.  Shur  signifies  singing  with  the  voice  (vocal  music :) 
^azattf  to  play  upon  an  instrument.  ZaiMtr  implies  ei^er  vocal  or  instru» 
mental jnelody.  Thus  JBintiginpih  mitmifr  dur  (See  ftou^viiTii.  1.)  I  thinly 
means  a  metrical  wng',  actompamed  -with  munc*  Thus  I  suppose  ndtmwr  t6 
denote  meanire,  or  numbers,  what  tlie  Greeks  called  gu9fen  (Kythmon.j 
It  may  also  be  more  immediately  inferred  to  the  former  and  onginal  sense 
of  the  root,  as  signiiyingf  a  potm  etit  mim  «Atrf  aennnsef^  and  pruned  fnm 
every  luxuriancy  of  expression,  which  is  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
_  the  Hebrew  poetry.  Prose  composition  is  called  SKehichdh,  loose  or  free, 
diifoicd  with  no  respeet  lo  rule ;  like  a  inld  tree,  luxunant  on  ^«ery  side 
in  its  leaves  and  brancbes :  Metrical  language  is  Zimrah,  emi  and  pHmed 
on  every  side  into  sentences,  like  branches,  distributed  into  a  certain  form 
and  order;  w  vines,  which  the  vine-dresser  conects  with  his  pruning-kni^ 
^d  adjusts  into  form.    Authet^»  itete. 


Lser.  3.  OF  THE  HEBREW  METRE*  M 

to  its  etymology,  is  cxpresuve  of  a  composition  cut  or 
divided^  in  a  peculiar  manner,  into  short  and  cquaL 
sentences. 

The  nature  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  poetry  is  in  this 
respect  dirccdy  opposite ;  and  that  in  conformity  to  the 
genius  of  the  different  lai^guages.  For  the  Greek,  be- 
yond every  other  lai^age,  (and  the  Latin  next  to  it)  isi 
copious»  flowing,  and  harmonious,  possessed  of  a  great 
iKariety  qf  measures,  of  which  the  impression  is  so  defi*. 
ntif ,  the  effects  so  striking,  that  if  one  should  recite 
some  lame  and  ini|)erfect  portion  of  a  verse,  or  even  e« 
Bunciate  hastily  several  verses  in  a  breathi  the  numbera 
would  nevertheless  be  clearly  discernible :  so  that  in 
diese  fvety  variety  essent^l  to  poetry  and  verse  may  be 
provided  for  almost  at  pleasure,  without  the  smallest  in- 
jury to  the  different  metres.  But  in  the  Hebrew  lan- 
guage the  whole  economy  is  different*  Its  form  is  urn- 
pic  above  every  other ;  the  radical  words  are  uniform, 
and  resemble  each  other  almost  exactly ;  nor  are  the 
inflexions  numerous,  or  materially  different:  whence 
we  may  readily  understand,  that  its  metres  are  neither 
eomplex,  nor  capable  of  much  variety  ;  but  rather  sim« 
pie,  grave,  temperate ;  less  adapted  to  fluency  than  dig- 
nity and  force :  so  that  possibly  they  found  it  necessa- 
ry to  distinguish  the  extent  of  the  verse  by  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  sentence,  lest  the  lines,  by  running  into  each 
other,  ^ould  become  altogether  implicated  and  con- 
fused. 

Two  observations  occur  in  this  place  worthy  of  at- 
tention,  and  arise  naturally  from  what  has  been  said. 
The  first  is,  that  a  poem  translated  literally  from  the 
Hebrew  into  the  prose  of  any  other  language,  whibtthe 
same  forms  of  the  sentences  remain,  will  still  retain, 
even  as  far  as  relates  to  versification,  much  of  its  native 


V. 


4«  OP  THE  HEBREW  METRE.  Uct.  $, 

dignity,  and  a  faint  appearance  of  versification.  This 
is  evident  in  our  common  version  of  the  Scriptures, 
where  frequently 

^  The  order  changM,  and  verse  from  verse  disjoin'di 
<<  Yet  stiU  the  poet's  scatter'd  limbs  we  find :" 

But  the  case  is  very  different  in  literal  translations  from 
the  Greek  or  Latin/  The  other  remark,  which  I  wish- 
ed to  recommend  to  your  notice,  is,  that  a  Hebrew  po- 
em, if  translated  into  Greek  or  Latin  verse,  and  having 
the  conformation  of  the  sentences  accommodated  to  the 
/  idiom  of  a  foreign  language,  will  appear  confused  and 
mutilated  ;  will  scarcely  retain  a  trace  of  its  genuine 
elegance,  and  peculiar  beauty.  For  in  exhibiting  the 
works  of  great  poets  in  another  language,  much  depends 
upon  preserving  not  only  the  internal  meaning,  the  force 
and  beauty  as  far  as  regards  the  sense,  but  even  the 
^ernal  lineamcntsy  the  proper  colour  and  habit,  the 
movement,  and,  as  it  were,  the  gait  of  the  original. 
Those,  therefore,  who  have  endeavoured  to  express  the 
beauties  of  the  sacred  poets  in  Greek  or  Latin  verse, 
have  unavoidably  failed  in  the  attempt  to  depict  them 
according  to  their  native  genius  and  character;  and 
have  exhibited  something,  whether  inferior  or  not,  cer- 
tainly very  unlike  them,  both  in  kind  and  form ;  wheth- 
er, on  the  other  hand,  they  have  been  able  to  approach 
in  some  degree,  their  energy,  their  majesty  and  spirit, 
is  not  our  present  object  to  consider. 

7  "  Nevertheless"  (that  is,  thoug;fa  the  sacred  poetry  he  not  possessed  of 
netrical  syllables,  and  divided  into  feet,  which  is  the  opinion  of  this  learn- 
ed man)  **  we  cannot  doubt  thalithaa-soother  species  of  metrical  arrange- 
^  *<  ment,  which  depends  upon  the  aubject^Is  it  not  evident,  that  if  you 
''  translate  some  of  them  into  another  language,  they  still  retain  this  met- 
**  rical  form,  if  not  perfect,  at  least  in  a  great  degree  ?  which  cannot  possi. 
"  bly  take  place  in  those  poems,  the  metre  of  which  consists  in  the  number 
"  and  quantity  of  syllables."  R.  Axajiias  in  Manti99.  Di99ert.  ad  Lihr, 
CosRi,  p.  430.  Authar^i  A^* 


.^ 


THE  SECOND  PART. 

OF  THE  PARABOUC  OB  POETICAL.  STYLE  OF  THE  HBBBEWS. 

LECTURE  IV. 


THE  ORIGIN»  USE,  AND  CHARACnHUSTICS  OP  THB  PA&ABOL» 

IC,  AND  ALSO  OF  THE  SENTENTIOUS  STYLE. 

The  poetic  etyle  of  tke  VUbrewu  beim  tiie  genenl  titie  of  ^ofoMip— 4tts 
ooostituent  principles  are  the  aententioiu»  the  figurative»  and  the  sub» 
lime— The  source  of  the  parabolic  style  and  its  original  use :  among 
other  nations  ;  among  the  Hebrews— ^Gertun  examples  of  it  preserved 
from  the  fint  ages  in  the  writings  of  Moses**»!.  The  sententious  Und  f 
its  nature  and  effects. 


CTi 


Tluz  subject  which  next  presents  itself  to  our  investi- 
gation, b  the  style  of  the  Hebrew  poetry.  The  mean- 
ing of  this  word  I  do  not  wish  to  be  restricted  to  the 
diction  only  of  the  sacred  poets,  but  rather  to  include 
their  sentiment,  their  mode  of  thinking ;  whence,  a» 
from  its  genuine  source,  the  peculiar  character  of  their 
composition  may  be  deduced.  It  will  be  proper,  how- 
ever, before  we  proceed,  to  remark,  that  as  it  is  the  na- 
ture of  an  poetry,  so  it  is  particularly  of  the  Hebrew,  to 
be  totally  different  from  common  language ;  and  not 
only  in  the  choice  of  words,  but  in  the  construction,  to 
affect  a  peculiar  and  more  exquisite  mode  of  expres- 
sion.  The  truth  of  this  remark  will  appear  from  what 
usually  happens  to  a  learner  of  Hebrew.  He,  for  in^ 
stance,  who  is  a  proficient  in  the  historical  books,  when 
he  comes  to  the  poetical  parts,  will  find  himself  almost 
a  perfect  stranger.  The  phraseology,  however,  pecu- 
liar to  the  poets,  the  bold  ellipses^  the  sudden  transitions 
7 


50  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  Lbct.  4. 

of  the  tenses^  gend!ers^  and  persons,  and  other  similar 
circumstances,    I  shall  leave  to  the  grammarian :    or 
rather  I  shall  leave  (mcb  I  d!a  not  find  that  the  gram-» 
marians  acknowledge  an^  distinction  between  poetical 
and  common  language)  ta  be  collected  from  practice 
and  attentive  reading.    It  would  be  a  no  less  indolent 
and  trifling  occupation  to  post  through  all  those  form» 
of  tropes  and  figures,  wbich  the  teachers  of  rhetoric 
have  pompooslf  (not  to  aaj  osetesslgr)  heqied  together  ^ 
since  there  is  no  necessity  of  appl3r]ng  to  die  sacred  po» 
etiy  Smt  examples  of  these,  every  oonpoBition,  however 
trite  and  barren,  abounding  in  them.    Of  these,  ttH^re^ 
fore,  we  shall  be  sparing,  and  use  them  not  as  freely  as 
we  might,  but  as  much  only  »  shall  appear  absolutely 
necessary.    For  at  present  we  are  not  so  much  to  in- 
quire what  are  the  general  principles  of  poetical  com- 
position, as  what  are  the  peculiar  marks  and  character» 
of  the  Hebrew  poetry.      Let  us  consider,   therefore, 
whether  the  litei^ture  of  the  Hebrews  will  not  surest 
some  general  term,  which  will  ^ve  us  an  opportunity 
of  discussing  the  subject,  so  as  to  bring  it  under  one 
comprehensive  view ;  and  which»  being  divided  accord- 
ing to  its  constituent  parts,  will  prescribe  a  proper  or- 
[  dcr  and  limit  to  our  disquisition.  - — -* 

A  poem  is  called  in  Hebrew  A£izmor,  that  b,  as  was 
before  remarked,  a  short  composition  cut  and  divided 
into  distinct  parts.^  It  is  thus  called  in  reference  to  the 
verse  and  numbers.  Again,  a  poem  is  calKtl,  in  refer* 
cnce  to  the  diction  and  sentiments,  Mashal^  which  I 
take  to  be  the  word  properly  expressive  of  the  poetical 

1  "  Agreeable  to  tliis  is  the  meaning  of  the  Arabic  rerb  Zamar^  coUected, 
'<  or  tied  up^  therefore  rendered  ffMaOft-,  and  eemimned  within  less  space :  It 
'*  also  means  te  ting,  Stc.*'    H. 

t  NvxB.  xxi.  27.  zxiii.  and  xxiv.  frequentlf .  Mic.  il  4.  laai.  xlv.  4* 
PsAi..  xlix.  5.  IxxviiL  2.    Job  xxviL  1.  xxix.  1. 


UcT. «.  SENTS VT«>US  STYLE.  5 1 

Style.  Many  translators  render  it  by  the  word  parabk^ 
which  in  some  re$f)ects  is  not  improper,  though  it 
scarcely  comprehends  the  fuU  compass  of  the  Hebrew 
e2;pression^  for  if  we  investigate  its  full  and  proper 
fiorce,  we  shall  find  that  it  includes  three  forms  or  modes 
of  speech,  the  sententious,  the  figurative,  and  the  sub- 
lime.  To  these  as  part^  or  divisions  of  the  general 
subject  may  be  referred  whatever  occurs  concerning 
the  parabolical  or  poetical  style  of  the  Hebrews :  but 
the  reason  of  this  arrangemeiit  wil}  perhaps  be  better 

Maikalf  he  Ukened,  he  eon^artd^  he  9p9ke  in  poraUet  /  he  uiteredprm^ 
«f6«,  mni0ne€9  jrove  andpmntud^  %  ernnpoHUMt  ^tnaimented  -mtkjigia-ew  ami 
€0mpari$9n9f  also  he  ruledf  he  wom  emmenis  he  ^«sommI  thmmin  tad  mm 
tbority ;  delegated»  perhapf»  and  vicarious  in  its  original  and  restricted 
sense,  whence  at  last  it  was  taken  moie  lasly»  as  referring^  to  an^  kind  of 
do^inkm :  The  eider  servant  of  Abraham,  who  presided  Ovtt  Kia  fkmily^ 
was  certainly  called  IlAJSJkSBia.Ae4ra4  a9ker  b,  Qiir.  u^iv.  3.  He  was  in  fatst 
Ik  steward  in  the  place  of  his  master,  and  representing  him  by  a  delegated 
MHiiBriiy ;  whence  there  is  evidently  a  relation  between  the  twolntet^reta» 
tioas  ^f  this  roo%  censisting  in  this  cinomostance,  th^it  V>^  ^e  parabolical  /^x^ 
image,  and  the  steward  or  deputy,  are  representative.  Jhfag^al  is  thereforg 
ft  composition  elevated  and  grave,  weighty  and  poweriiil»  highly  ornament- 
ed wiA  compnisoas,  figures,  snd  imagery ;  such  is  the  style  of  the  ISalms^ 
the  Propihets,  and  the  Book  of  Job :  it  is  a  diction,  which  under  one  image 
or  exemplar  includes  many,  and  may  easily  he  transferred  to  every  one  of 
iht  same  kind  s  which  is  in  general  the  nature  of  proverbs  :  it  is  in  fine, 
$Bf  aenteace  or  azkan  excdUcntly  or  gravely  uttered,  concise,  and  confined 
to  a  certaon  form  or  manner :  as  is  evident  frpip  1  ^ax.  xxiv.  14.  and  from 
many  examples  in  the  jProverbs  of  Solomon. 

"  In  Arabic  Maihai  (tar  «  (sh)  and  n  (1h)  are  interchangeable  letters) 
moms  to  makt  a  HkemM^  to  €Xprf9%  or  imi$a^  ft  rtttmf^lmnceg  to  dicitUe  ^ 
parable  or  pnoverh^  to  give  an  tnttance/*    H. 

With  JMotAo^  eMdah  is  frequently  jobed,  snd  means,  a  tat/ing  pointed,      ^  , 
exqiddUt  ^kfcvse  /  such  as  venires  either  to  the  eonoeptionor  underatsnd- 
P9-f^  it,  eoniaidmble  ingeiulity.    It  h  derived  from  Ciad,  to  prop(>se  a 
probleil^  mynigmaf  or  to«ii^  exqmnte  and  curiouM  taying ;   which  agrees     / 
with  Chedad,  to  ehaxpen,  or  to  be  9harp. 

**  In  the  Anbic,  it  signifies,  toM  hehi  /  snd  Chid,  he  turned  aui  of  fUs 
f'voy.*  whence  Scm&TBirs  (Comment,  in  Jos  ^vi.30.)  deduces  the  Hebrew 
H  word  Chidah :  as  it  were  an  intricate  spegietof  compositioft,  a  riddle.**    H, 


^3  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  Lect.  4. 

understood,  if  we  premise  a  short  inquiry  into  the  ori- 
gin and  early  use  of  this  style  of  composition. 

The  origin  and  first  use  of  poetical  language  are  un- 
doubtedly to  be  traced  into  the  vehement  affections  of 
the  mind.  For  what  is  meant  by  that  singular  frenzy  of 
poets,  which  the  Greeks,  ascribing  to  divine  inspiration^ 
distinguished  by  the  appellation  of  enthusiasm^  but  a 
style  and  expression  directly  prompted  by  nature  itself» 
and  exhibiting  the  true  and  express  image  of  a  mind 
violently  agitated  ?  When,  as  it  were,  the  secret  avenues, 
the  intgrlor  recesses  of  the  soul  are  thrown  open ;  when 
the  iBpQpst  conceptions  are  displayed,  rushing  together  in 
one  turbid  -stream,  without  order  or  connection.  Hence 
sudden  exclamations,  frequent  interrogations,  apostro* 
phes  even  to  inanimate  objects :  for  to  those,  who  are. 
violently  agitated  themselves,  the  universal  nature  of 
tilings  seems  under  a  necessity  of  being  a&cted  with 
similar  emotions.  Every  impulse  of  the  mind,  however, 
has  not  only  a  peculiar  style  and  expression,  but  a  cer- 
tain tone  of  voice  and  a  certain  gesture  of  the  body  adapt» 
ed  to  it :  some,  indeed,  not  satisfied  with  that  expression 
which  language  afibrds,  have  added  to  it  dancing  and 
song ;  and  as  we  know  there  existed  in  the  first  ages 
a  very  strict  connection  between  these  arts  and  that  of 
poetry,  we  may  possibly  be  indebted  to  them  for  the 
accurately  admeasured  verses  and  feet,  to  the  end  that 
the  modulation  of  the,^anguage  might  accord  with  the 
music  of  the  voice,  and  the  motion  oi  the  body. 

Poetry,  in  this  its  rude  origin  and  commencement, 
being  derived  from  nature,  was  in  time  improved  by  art, 
and  applied  to  the  purposes  of  utility  and  delight.  For 
9s  it  owed  its  birth  to  the  affections  of  the  mind,  and  had 
availed  itself  of  the  assistance  of  harmony,  it  was  found, 
on  account  of  the  exact  and  vivid  delineation  of  the  ob% 


L«cT.  4.  SENTENTIOUS  STYLE.  $3 

jects  which  it  described,  to  be  excellently  adapted  to  the 
exciting  of  every  internal  emotion,  and  niaking  a  more 
forcible  impression  upon  the  nuhd  than  abstract  reason- 
ing could  possibly  eflkct ;  it  was  found  capable  of  inter- 
esting  and  a&cting  the  senses  and  passions,  of  captivat- 
ing the  ear,  of  directing  the  perception  to  the  minutest 
circumstances,  and  of  assisting  the  memory  in  the  reten- 
tion of  them.  Whatever  therefore  deserved  to  be  gen- 
erally known  and  accurately  remembered,  was  (by  those 
men,  who  on  this  very  account  jvere  denominated  wist^) 
adorned  with  a  jocund  and  captivating  style,  illuminated 
with  the  varied  and  splendid  colouring  of  language,  and 
moulded  into  sentences  comprehensive,  pointed  and  har- 
monious* It  became  the  peculiar  province  of  poetry  to 
depict  the  great,  the  beautiful,  the  becoming,  the  virtu^ 
ous ;   to  embellish  and  recommend  the  precepts  of  re- 

s  The  barda,  or  poeta,  are  enumerated  by  the  8ov  or  Si«Aca»  among  the 
^nae  and  niuatrioua  men  of  ibnner  timea  : 

**  Wiae  and  eloquent  in  their  inatructiona, 
^  Such  aa  found  out  musical  tunea, 
^  And  recited  written  veraea/'  Ecc&va  xliv.  4. 

Obaerve  aiKH  whether  those  four,  whoae  wiadom  ia  ao  much  celebrated* 
1  Kinoa  iT<  31.  Jfom'  JMbcAa^  be  not  S&tu  ^f  the  Chair  g  that  is,  mualciana 
or  poeta :  for  they  were  (not  eotu  •/  Mlahol,  aa  our  translatora  render  it, 
taking  an  iq>pellatiTe  for  a  proper  name,  but)  aona  of  Zerach^  as  appeara 
from  1  Chbov.  ii.  6L  **  Whence  the  eldest  of  them»  £than,  waa  alao  called 
**  Ba^Bxrachi,  I  Kivea  it.  31.  where  the  Targum  expre^ly  has  it  Bar  Zc- 
rachf  son  of  ZeracV*  H.  Among  the  Greeks  alao  the  poeta  were  ancients 
ly  palled  wise  men,  or  aophists  : 

**  Rosy  Tenua,  queen  of  all ! 

<'  So  the  wife  bright  Venua  calL''  Aitacrbov. 

That  ia,  the  pcieta«*-9o  alao  Pindar 

■  *♦  Sung  by  the  wise, 

^  And  honoured  by  the  will  of  Jotc.**  ht,  V.  36. 

Upon  which  passage  the  Scholiaat :  *<  The  poeta  are  commonly  called  wise 
**  men,  and  sophiats.'*  **  The  poets  preceded  these  (the  philosophers)  by 
**  some  ages  ;  and  befote  the  name  of  philoaopher  wia  known  were  called 
<*  wise  men.**    LACTjunrma,  Lib.  T.  5.  «Iiif  Atr**  AVat. 


/ 


54  OF  THE  PARABQUC  AND  Uct.  4. 

li^on  and  yirtue,  to  transmit  to  poolerity  excdleot  and 
sublime  actions  and  sayings ;  to  celebrate  the  works  of 
the  Deity,  his  beneficence,  his  wisdom ;  to  record  the 
memorials  of  the  past,  and  the  predictions  of  the  future» 
In  each  of  these  departments  poetry  was  of  singular 
/  utility,  since  before  any  characters  expressive  of  sounds 
were  invented,  at  least  before  they  were  commonly  re- 
ceived» and  applied  to  general  use»  it  seems  to  have  af^ 
forded  the  only  means  of  preserving  the  rude  scienoe  of 
the  early  times  ;  and  in  this  respect,  to  have  vendere^ 
the  want  of  letters  more  tolerable :  it  seems  also  to  have 
acted  the  part  of  a  pubtic  herald,  by  whose  vcuce  each 
memorable  transaction  of  antiqui^  was  proclaimed  and 
transmitted  through  diflferent  ages  and  nations. 

Such  appears  by  the  testimony  of  authors  to  have 
been  the  undoubted  origin  of  poetry  among  heathen 
nations.  It  is  evident  that  Greece  for  several  succes- 
nve  ages  was  possessed  of  no  records  but  the  poetic ; 
for  the  first  who  published  a  prose  oration  was  Phere-r 
cydes,  a  man  of  the  isle  of  Syrus,  and  contemporary 
with  king  Cyrus,  who  lived  some  ages  posterior  to  that 
of  Homer  and  Hesiod :  somewhat  after  that  lime  Cad- 
mus the  Milesian^  began  to  compose  lustory.  The  laws 
themselves  were  metrical,  and  adapted  to  certain  music- 
al notes :  such  were  the  laws  of  Charondas,  which  were 
sung  at  the  banquets  of  the  Athenians :'  such  were 

4  Stbabo  600^.  liib.  I.  P&ijr.  Mtt.  MBti.  Lib.  VIL  5^  &  V.  29.  This 
matter  is  well  explained  by  Isidorus,  however  rashly  some  learned  men  may 
have  taken  it  *'  It  is  well  known/'  says  he,  **  that  among^  the  Greeks,  as 
*<  well  as  among  the  Latins»  metrical  composition  was  much  more  ancient 
**  than  prose.  Every  spedcs  of  knowledlfa  was  at^nrtcontiuned  mpoetry : 
*'  it  was  long  before  prose  compotitioii  Souriahod.  The  first  man  among 
**  the  Greeks,  who  composed  in  prose,  was  Pherecydes  Syrius ;  among  the 
**  Romans,  Applus  Cxcus  first  published  a  work  ia  pmafi  against  Pyrrhua.** 
(si DOB.  HisPAL.  Orijr.  Lib.  I.  27.  wStilAsr's  A'o/e. 

f  ^  The  laws  of  Charondas  were  s«og  at  banqoets  aiaoiig  Hie  Athcmam^ 


|jieT.4»  S&Nt^MnOtJA  STYLE»  S5 

ttose  which  were  delivered  hf  die  CretniaP  to  the  in. 
genuous  youth  to  be  learned  by  rote,  with  accompani* 
nents  of  immieai  melody,  in  order  that  by  the  enchaat- 
flaent  of  harmony,  the  sentiments  might  be  more  forci- 
bly in^>ressed  upon  their  memories.  Hence '  certain 
poems  were  denominated  mfm  (nomoi)  which  implied 
convivial  or  banqueting  songs,  as  b  remarked  by  Aris- 
totle ;^  who  adds,  that  the  same  custom  of  chanting  the 
hws  to  muttc,  existed  rvcn  m  his  own  time  among  the 
J^thyrsi.'  If  we  may  credit  Strabq,^  the  Turdetani» 
a  peqple  of  Spain,  had  laws  in  vcrae«  But  the  Ger- 
naBs,*  as  Tacitus  positively  asserts,  had  no  records  or 
annals  but  the  traditional  poems,  in  which  they  cde- 

^  M  Ben&i(}piis  relates."  Athsv.  lib.  XIV.  3.  See  Bbstut's  DitHna- 
IfoM  m  PhaUsrU^  p.  373.        Aia/mf*9  JV«fe. 

•  MuAX,  Var.  aStt.  L.  O.  39. 
t^^WiyaiekwtcOledaDrtkks?  but  dMt  Mbie  alphiOwticiA  writinf^ 

**  VM  invented,  the  laws  need  to  be  sang»  tfaet  they  mif^t  be  pfeterred  'm 
**  remembiuioe  ?  as  i«  the  cufltom  etill  amon^  the  AgimthynL**  Jh^.  S. 
19.  Q.  38.       Jiuiku^9  .^W. 

•  IHMtibly  UwB»  iHiich  are  m  the  Mnteatkmi  s^le^  were  oni^iiielly  pre- 
eepu  of  equity  and  morals,  and  in  eoiurae  of  time  aoquired  authority  in  the 
courts  of  justice.  There  is  much  of  this  proverbial  style  in  the  ancient 
Ctermaa  Imts  :  and  I  am  assuned  by  good  authority,  in  those  of  Sweden 
also.  Moees  himself  is  so  scntenlious  and  eompatt.  and  pays  so  much  at- 
teatioa  to  btevity  in  many  of  his  laws,  that  he  seems  to  have  sdopted  into 
lus  cede  some  w^-4nown  prorcrbs,  containing  the  general  principles  of 
equity ;  of  this  1  think  theie  is  sn  instance  inEzon.  zziii.  5.  in  which  there 
is  a  point  and  antithesis»  mote  resembling  the  familiarity  of  a  proverb  than 
the  dignity  of  a  statute.  To  the  example  of  the  Lusitanians,  we  may  add 
one  more  recent  of  the  Swedes,  who  in  the  yesr  13^48  published  laws  in 
▼crse.    M. 

•  Gmj".  Lib.  m. 

"»  After  the  extraoidhnry  revolutions  of  Germany,  and  the  dispersion  of 
tfiat  people  into  different  colonies,  it  is  not  surprizing  that  no  monuments 
of  the  poetical  records  of  our  ancestors  should  remain.  Scandinavia  and 
Icefaaid  have  been  more  fortunate  in  this  respect ;  there  the  records  of  their 
most  sncient  transactbns  are  traditionally  preserved  to  this  day.  These 
instsnces  of  a  practice  so  agreeable  to  that  of  the  Hebrews  existing  among 
a  people  so  lemote»  serve  to  prove  the  great  similarity  in  the  human  mind 


5€  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  Lbct.4. 

biated  the  heroic  exploits  of  their  ancestors.^^  In  the 
^me  manner,  and  on  the  same  account»  the  Persians^ 

Ihroaghout  all  the  coantries  of  the  glohe,  and  show  that  the  most  natanl 
and  early  mode  of  preserving  ^ts,  has  been  by  verses  committed  to  memo* 
ly,  rather  than  by  vritten  documents.  What  Pocock  relates  of  the  Arabs, 
applies  perhaps  more  dil«ctly  to  the  pre&ent  subject  **  It  seems,**  he  says, 
^  to  be  entirely  owing  to  their  poetry,  that  so  copbos  a  language  is  pre- 
**  served  in  a  perfect  state.  Among  other  commendations  of  their  poetry, 
*'  they  enumerate  this,  that  both  the  purity  of  the  Arabic  language,  and  the 
^  propriety  and  elegance  of  their  pronunciation,  hate  owed  their  pneaerva» 
**  tion  entirely  to  it.  Ebn  Phares  observes,  that  the  Arabic  poems  serve  iit 
*'the  place  of  commentaries,  or  annals,  in  which  are  recorded  the  series  of 
**  their  genealogies,'  and  all  the  facts  of  history  deserving  of  remembrance, 
**  and  from  whi^  a  knowledge  of  the  language  is  to  be  collected.'*    BC 

However  the  antiquity  of  Ossian's  poems,  as  exhibited  to  the  public,  may 
be  doubted,  it  is  certain  that  there  exists  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  ma- 
ny remains  of  the  ancient  historical  ballads,  which,  though  in  all  probabili- 
ty of  a  much  later  date  than  the  age  of  Ossian  is  pretended  to  be,  contain 
many  marks  of  wild  genius,  and  i  am  informed  from  good  authority  fur- 
nished Mr.  Macpherson  with  the  bulk  of  his  materials.  T. 

11  To  these  testimonies  concerning  the  early  use  of  poetrjr,  I  Will  add  a 
remarkable  passage  of  Plutarch,  which  states  summarily  many  facts  relat-» 
ing  to  this  circumstance.  *'  The  use  of  reason  seems  to  resemble  the  ex- 
*'  change  of  money :  that  which  is  good  and  lawful  is  generally  current 
**  and  well  known,  and  passes  sometimes  at  a  higher  and  sometimes  at  a 
**  lower  value.  Thus,  there  was  a  time  Miien  the  stamp  and  coin  of  all 
«  reasoning  or  composition  was  verse  and  song.  Even  history,  philosophy, 
"  every  action  and  passion,  which  required  grave  or  serious  discussion,  was 
«  written  in  poetry  and  idq>ted  to  music.  For  what  at  present  few  wift 
"  attend  to,  was  then  by  all  men  thought  an  object  of  importance :  ^ 
•*  ploughmen  and  by  bird-catchera,  according  to  Pzvsae.  For  such  was  the 
•*  inclination  for  poetry  at  that  period,  that  they  adapted  their  ve>y  pre- 
**  cepts  and  instructions  to  vocal  and  instrumental  music,  and  exhorted, 
•«  reproved,  and  persuaded  by  fables  or  allegories.  The  praises  also  of 
••  their  gods,  their  prayers,  and  thanksgivings  after  victory,  were  all  com- 
**  posed  in  verse ;  some  tbrou§^  the  love  of  harmony,  and  some  through 
"  custom.  It  is  not  therefore  that  Apollo  envies  the  science  of  divination 
•*  this  ornament,  nor  did  he  design  to  banish  from  the  Tripos  his  beloved 
**  muse ;  he  rather  wished  to -introduce  her  as  one  who  loved  harmony  and 
•*  excited  to  it ;  as  one  who  was  ready  to  assist  the  fancy  and  conception, 
•'  and  to  help  to  produce  what  was  noble  and  sublime,  as  most  becoming 
**  and  most  to  be  admired."  Plut.  Inquiry^  -why  the  PytMa  now  ceases  te 
deliver  her  oracles  in  verse,    Author^s  JVol», 

See  this  subject  treated  at  large,  essays  historical  and  marai,  by  G.  Gnas- 
OBT,  Essay  I.  On  the  progress  of  manners,  p.  31,  37,  39,  40,  43..  T. 


Lbct.  4.  SENTENTIOUS  STYLE.  57 

the  Arabs,  and  many  of  the  most  ancient  of  the  Eastern 
nations,  preserved  in  verse  their  history  and  politics,  as 
well  as  the  principles  of  religion  and  morals :  Thus  all 
science  human  and  divine  was  deposited  in  the  treasury 
(rf'the  Muses,  and  thither  it  was  necessary  on  every  oc- 
casion to  resort,"  The  only  mode  of  instruction,  in- 
deed, adapted  to  human  nature  in  an  uncivilized  state, 
when  the  knowledge  of  letters  was  very  litde,  if  at  all, 
diffused,  must  be  that  which  is  calculated  to  captivate 
the  ear  and  the  passions,  which  assists  the  memory, 
which  is  not  to  be  delivered  into  the  hand,  but  Infused 
into  the  mind  and  heart.^^ 

That  the  case  was  the  same  among  the  Hebrews; 
diat  poetry  was  both  anciently  and  generally  known  and 
practised  by  them,  appears  highly  probable,  as  well  from 
the  analogy  of  things,  as  from  some  vestiges  of  poetic 
language  extant  in  the  writings  of  Moses*  The  first 
mstance  occurs  in  one  of  the  most  remote  periods  of  the 
Mosaic  history,  I  mean  the  address  of  Lamech  to  his 
wives,  which  is  indeed  but  ill  understood  in  general,  be- 
cause the  occasion  of  it  is  very  obscurely  intimated : 
nevertheless,  if  we  consider  the  apt  construction  of  the 
words,  the  exact  distribution  of  the  period  into  three 
distichs,  and  the  two  parallel,  and  as  it  were  correspond- 
ii^,  sentiments  in  each  distich ;  I  apprehend  it  will  easi- 
ly be  acknowledged  an  indubitable  specimen  of  the  pa- 
etry  of  the  first  ages : 

<<  Hadah  and  Siliah  bear  my  voice  ; 

<*  Ye  wives  of  Lamech  hearken  to  my  speech  ; 

1*  See  CflAmDUf's  TraveU,  Vol.  D.  c.  xiv.  Pococx.  Spec,  BUt.  Jtrai.  p.  1^8. 

^  We  may  add,  that  poetry  is  much  leM  liable  to  be  corrupted  than 
prose.  So  fidthful  a  preienrer  of  truth  is  metre,  that  what  is  liable  to  be 
changed,  augmented,  or  violated,  almost  daily  in  prose,  may  continue  for 
a^  in  verse,  without  variation,  without  even  a  cbange  in  tlie  obsplete 
phraseology.    M. 

8 


58  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  Lect.  4. 

^  Fat  I  have  slain  a  man,  because  of  my  wounding ; 
"  A  young  man,  because  of  my  hurt. 
f^K  Cain  shall  be  avengedi4  seven  times, 
<*  Certainly  Lamech  seventy  and  seven."^' 

M  "  If  the  murder  of  Cain  shall  be  avenged^"  That  is,  "  If  vengtpan^ 
"  sevenfold  shall  fall  upon  the  head  of  him  that  murders  Cain»  then  yen- 
^  geance  seventy  times  seven  shall  fall  on  him  that  murders  Lamech.*'  A- 
greeably  to  what  is  pronounced  by  Crod  in  the  l^tb  vexse  of  the  same  chap* 
ter,  "  Whosoever  slayeth  Cain,  vengeance  shall  be  takea  on  him  seven* 
fcld/'    T. 

I'  Gasr,  iv.  33,  24.  The  Jews  have  indulged  great  liberty  of  fiction  and 
conjecture  oonceming  this  passage^,  whiph  has  a&awered  no  odier  purpose 
than  to  render  it  mare  perplexed  to  others  also,  who  were  unable  to  digest 
their  whimsical  and  absurd  explications.  To  me  there  is  very  little  obscu- 
i^ty  in  the  original ;  for  though  we  are  necessarily  ignorant  of  the  name  of 
the  person  who  was  murdered,  I  OMt  it  is  sufficiently  plain  that  some  per- 
son was  murdered  by  Lamech.  I  say  perwn  /  for  what  the.  Jews  have  feign- 
ed concerning  the  death  of  two  persons,  the  one  a  youth,  and  the  other  a 
man,  proceeds  entirely  ftomt^eir  igiforanoe  of  the  nature  of  the  Hebrew 
poetry,  and  particularly  of  the  paiallebsm  or  lepetitum  of  certain  memberSi 
of  the  sentences,  which  our  author  has  explained  in  a  very  masterly  manner 
in  the  19th  Iiecture.  Nor  is  there  any  more  reason  to  distinguish  between 
tlie  youth  and  the  man,  than  to  suppose  Badah  and  SiUah  other  than  the 
wives  of  Lamech,  who  are  mentioned  in  the  next  line : 
'*  Iladah  and  Sillah  hear  my  voice, 
•*  Ye  wives  of  Lamech  attend,  Stc.** 
The  truth  is,  Lamech  had  committed  a  murder :  he  repents  of  the  fact,  but- 
hppcj},  af;^  the  example  of  Cain,,  to  escape  witi>  impunity,  and  with  that 
hope  lie  cheers  his  wives,  who  are  anxious  for  his  fate.  It  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed  tliat  he  addi*essed  them  in  verse ;  the  substance  of  what  he  said  has 
been  reduced  to  numbers  lor  the  sake  of  preserving  it  easily  in  the  memory. 
Til  is  poem  therefore  constitutes  a  part  of  history  known  to  the  Isracdi^ : 
and  Moses  intimates  to  what  Lamech  it  relates,  namely,  not  to  the  son-  of 
Seth^  the  father  of  Noah,  but  to  this  Lamech  of  the  seed  of  Cain  :  what  he 
a<ldii  IS  to  this  effect :  <<  This  Lamech,  who  was  of  the  seed  of  Cain,  is  the 
*'samc  wlio  complained  to  his  wives  in  those  well-known  traditional 
verses,  &c." 

That  Moses  has  prcser>''ed  many  relics  of  this  kind,  is  evident  from  tlie 
fragineuis  of  verse  which  are  scattered  tbrougliout  his  writings,  and  which 
are  very  distinguishable  from  his  usual  language.  Such  is  that  which  he 
relates  Gsir.  iii.  24.  of  the  clierubs  placed  at  the  east  of  the  garden  of  Eden : 
under  which  appellation  I  understand  to  be  meant,  not  angels,  but  tlie  JEqui 
tenaiiies  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  p.)ets  :  the  reasons  for  which  opinion  I  have 
mote  fully  explained  in  the  Commentaries  of  the  Royal  Society  at  Gottin- 


Lkct.  4.  SENTENTIOUS  STYl.E.  3d 

Another  example,  which  I  shall  point  out  to  you,  ap, 
pears  no  less  to  bear  the  genuine  marks  of  poetry  than 

fen,  T.  L  p«  175.  The  ptsfltge  is  without  doubt  poetical :  <<  He  placed  be> 
*•  fore  the  garden  cherubim  f  thundering  hortcnj  and  a  flaming  sword,  to 
**  keep  the  way  of  the  tree  of  life  :**  in  plain  terms,  the  dread  of  the  frequent 
tempests  and  daily  thunders  deterred  men  from  that  track,  m  which  par:^ 
dise  was  situated,  lest  they  should  eat  of  the  tree  of  life.    M. 

The  former  part  of  the  23d  verse  is  thus  translated  by  HouBieAXT : 
"  I,  being  wounded,  have  slain  a  man, 
"  **  Being  assaulted,  a  young  man.'* 
This  translation  is  mgenious,  and  I  think  right  But  atiH  it  seems  to  want 
some  further  explanation  as  well  as  confirmation ;  which,  since  he  has  omit- 
ted, I  will  attempt.  The  speech  of  I<amech  is  an  apology  for  an  homicide 
committed  in  his  own  defence,  upon  some  man  who  violently  assaulted  him, 
and  it  appears  struck  and  wounded  him.  An  homicide  of  this  nature  he 
opposes  to  the  voluntary  and  inexcusable  fratricide  of  Cain.  The  phrases 
wfaicli  produce  the  obacurity— Xe-^/zon^,  and  La^hakvrathi^  *<  because  of 
"  my  wound,"  that  is^  a  -wound  vMch  vom  gvum  me,  and,  *'  because  of  mj 
^  blows  (or  stripes,)**  that  is,  »tripe§  inJUcUd  upon  me,  may  1  think  be  ex- 
plained as  follows.  The  af&xes  to  nouns  (as  Kimcdivs  observes  on  Ibau 
sxi  %)  ate  tskcn  actively  aa  well  u  passively ;  thus  Chamati^  <*  my  vio- 
**  lence,  or  injury,"  means  a  violence  committed  againot  me  /  Gav.  xvi.  31. 
Jaft.  li.  ZS.  Chamao  Bern  Jehotulah,  **  the  violence  of  the  sons  of  Judali  ;'* 
JeiL  iv.  19.  Chamao  Ereti,  **  the  violence  of  the  land,"  means  that  rohich 
theif  have  oujfkred  .*  "  My  servant  ahall  justify  many  JBe-deanffthif  in  his 
**  knowledge,"  that  is,  m  their  knoioledge  of  him  ;  Isai.  liii.  11.  Beangecha, 
*<  thy  thoughts,"  mean  thoughts  concerning  thee.  Psal.  cxxxix.  17.  The 
preposition  b  fie  J  frequently  means  becavoe :  **  The  ships  that  trcnt  to 
"  Ophir,  Le-xahab,  because  (or  for  the  sake)  of  gold :"  1  Kihos  xxii.  48. 
Le-obiv  veUe-emoUf  he.  **  because  of  his  father,  or  because  of  his  mother, 
<*  or  because  of  his  bnyther,  or  because  of  his  sister,  be  shall  not  pollute  « 
*«  himself."  Huxb.  vLf.  See  mote  bi  Voldius  ad  ^  Ko  28.   Juthor^o  ^ote* 

There  ia  nothing  m  the  contact  to  induce  a  suspicion  that  Lamech  had 
ecmiaiitted  a  murder.  By  taking  to  himself  two  wives  he  first  vblated  the 
divine  institution  of  marriage.  Such  an  ofTence  Was  IScely  to  draw  upon 
him  the  zesentment  of  hia  kindred,  ezpoie  him  to  a  particular  quarrel  (per- 
haps with  hia  brother)  and  fiH  his  wives  xrith  fear,  lest  he  should  be  pro- 
voked to  follow  the  example  of  Cain.  To  remove  therefore  their  apprehen- 
sions, he  thus  expostulates  with  them,  contraatlng  the  offences  OC  polygamy 
and  murder : 

Hadah  and  Sillah  hear  my  voice  : 
Ye  wives  of  Lamech  attend  to  my  speech  ; 
^  Have  I  slain  a  man  in  my  contest } 

Yea,  one  bom  among  my  kmdred? 


60  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  Lect.  i. 

the  former,  and  that  is  the  execration  of  No^  upon 
Ham  ;  with  the  magnificent  predictions  of  prosperity  ta 
his  two  brothers,  to  Shem  in  particular,  and  the  ardent 
breathings  of  his  soul  for  their  future  happiness :  these 
are  expressed  in  three  equal  divisions  of  verses,  con- 
cluding with  an  indignant  repetition  of  one  of  the  pre^ 
ceding  lines : 

^  Cursed  be  Canaan  1 

<<  A  servant  of  seryants  to  his  brotbers  let  him  be  ! 

<<  Blessed  be  Jehovah  the  God  of  Shem  ! 

<<  And  let  Canaan  be  their  servant ! 

<(  May  God  extend  Japheth, 

<<  And  may  he  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem  ! 

<*  And  let  Canaan  be  their  servant/'i^ 

The  inspired  benedictions  of  the  patriarchs  Isaac  and 
Jacob  are  altogether  of  the  same  kind  :^^  and  the  great 
importance  of  these  prophecies,  not  only  to  the  destiny 
of  the  people  of  Israel,  but  to  that  of  the  whole  human 
race,  renders  it  highly  probable  that  they  were  extant  in 
this  form  before  the  time  of  Moses ;  and  that  they  were 
afteAvards  committed  to  writing  by  the  inspired  histo- 
rian, exactly  as  he  had  received  them  from  his  ancestors. 

If  Cain  shall  be  avenged  seven  times. 
Assuredly  shall  lAmech  seventy  times  seven. 
^3  in  various  instances  is  used  interrogativdy ;  1  Sax.  xziv.  30.  3  Kiv«a 
xviiL  34.  IsAi.  xxix.  16.  Pmov.  xzx.  4»  &c.  *9iab,mffigrdlroMJon  or  strife, 
from  Pitt»  9cidit,  but  if  the  derivative  be  referred  to  the  secondary  sense : 
vtilneravit^it  may  in  that  case  be  rendered,  Jrom  my  wound,  or  the  'wound 
that  I  have  inJUcied.  nV  signifies  a  son,  or  perwn  bom,  and  n  very  frequent- 
ly occurs  in  the  sense  of  yea,  fCXXn  is.  in  various  passages,  equivalent  to 
union,  alHance,  affinity.  (In  Mai.  ii.  14.  the  same  term  is  applied  to  the 
ntarringe  union.  J^  One  bom  ameng  my  kwdted  may  be  considered  as  sy- 
nonymous with  my  brother,    8.  H. 

I  did  not  however  think  myself  at  liberty  to  depart  in  the  text  from  that 
of  our  author,  though  I  think  this  explication  exceedingly  ingenious.  The 
reader  may  for  further  information  on  this  subject  consult  Daw802I*b  trans* 
lation  of  Gkjtesis,  c.  iv.    T. 

16  Gen.  ix.  25. 27*  "  Uek,  xxvii.  27,  29,  39,  40. 


Lkct.  4.  SENTENTIOUS  STYLE.  61 

Without  presuming  to  bestow  on  these  sacred  oracles 
any  adventitious  ornaments  or  poetical  colouring. 

The  matter  will  appear  yet  clearer,  if  we  advert  to 
some  other  verses,  a  little  different  in  kind,  to  which  the 
same  historian  appeals  (as  well  known  and  popular)  in 
testimony  of  the  truth  of  his  narration.  Thus,  when  he 
relates  the  first  incursion  of  the  Israelites  into  the  coun- 
try of  the  Amorites,  in  order  to  mark  more  precisely  the 
boundaries  of  that  state,  and  to  explain  more  satis&cto- 
rily  the  nature  of  the  victories  not  long  before  atchieved 
over  the  Moabites,  he  cites  two  fragmcDts  of  poems  i 
the  one  from  the  book  of  the  Wars  of  Jehovah,^'  the 
other  from  the  sayings  fMashalimJ  of  those  who  spoke 
in  parables  ;^^  that  is,  as  appears  from  the  nature  of 

la  NtraiB.  xxj.  14,  15. 

w  Ibid.  27—30.  Compare  Jbb.  xlviii.  45,  46.  krftyptaHtmt  fatrnffmatit» 
ttdj  Ssrr.  <*  Who  tbeee  enigmatUu  are  (saya  Auguatin)  is  not  veiy  plain, 
*<  since  there  is  no  such  appellation  in  our  language  (Latin)  \  nor  indeed  is 
«•  the  word  elsewhere  found  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  (that  is,  in  the  Septua- 
**  ^t) ;  but  sinee  they  seem  to  have  been  employed  in  singing  a  poem,  in 
'*  which  was  celebrated  a  war,  that  had  been  carried  on  between  the  Anior* 
"  ites  and  the  Moabites,  in  which  Seor  king  of  the  Amorites  was  yictori- 
**  ous,  it  is  not  improbable  that  these  enigmatists  may  have  been  those 
**  whom  we  now  cidl  poets ;  inasmuch  as  it  is  customary  with  poets  to 
"  mingle  enigmas  and  fables  in  their  Yerses,  by  which  they  obscurely  indi- 
**  cate  realities  :  for  an  enigma  is  no  other  than  a  figurative  mode  of  ex- 
"  pression,  upon  the  explanation  of  which  depends  our  understanding  the 
*<  author.'*    Quaet.  xW.  in  Nun.    Autk9i^9  J^ote. 

This  matter  will  appear  clearer  and  more  easy  of  conception,  if  the  dis- 
tinction be  rightly  observed  between  the  two  different  significations  ef  the 
word  Huuhal.'  the  one  more  comprehensive,  and  including  all  kind  of  po- 
etry, on  account  of  the  figurative  language  (  the  other  peculiar  to  a  certain 
kind  of  poetry,  which  is  opposed  to  the  canticle  or  song.  Our  author,  in 
the  following  page,  seems  to  apprehend  rightly  of  the  word  in  tliis  double 
sense ;  but  I  thus  far  differ  from  him,  that  I  think  it  is  not  expressive  of 
two  particular  species  of  poetry,  but  in  the  one  sense  it  means  the  whole 
genus,  and  in  the  other  the  particular  species,  which  I  just  now  pointed 
out.  The  l^XX.  have  rendered  this  word  very  ill  aneyfxafit^s  \  maghal^  or 
nmUtude,  may  indeed  sometimes  denote  an  enigma ;  and  if  Aug^stin  has 
jonJstaken  the  meaning  of  the  Septuagint,  it  is  excusable,  sinse,  whatever 


62  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  Lect.  4. 

things,  from  some  panegyrical  or  triumphal  poem  of  the 
Amorites.  To  which  we  may  add,  what  immediately 
follow,  the  prophecies  of  Balaam  the  Mesopotamian, 
pronounced  also  in  the  parabolic  style,  as  appears  from 
the  extreme  neatness  of  the  composition,  the  metrical 
md  parallel  sentences,  the  sublimity  of  the  language  and 
sentiment,  and  the  uncommon  elegance  of  die  verse. 
Hence  it  is  easy  to  collect,  that  this  kind  of  poetry, 
which  appears  perfectly  analogous  to  all  the  rest  of  the 
Hebrew  poetty  that  still  remains,  was  neither  originally 
die  production  of  Moses,  nor  peculiar  to  the  Jewish  na- 
y  tion,  but  that  it  may  be  accounted  among  the  first-fruits 
of  human  ingenuity,  and  was  cultivated  by  the  Hebrews 
and  other  eastern  nations  from  the  first  ages,  as  the  re- 
corder of  events,  the  preceptor  of  morals,  the  historian 
of  the  past,  and  prophet  of  the  future.* 

Concerning  the  utility  of  poetry,  therefore,  the  He- 
brews have  maintained  the  same  opinion  throughout  all 
ages.  This  being  always  accounted  the  highest  com- 
mendation of  science  and  erudition :  *^  To  understand  a 
••  proverb  and  the  interpretation  ;  the  words  of  the  wise 
^and  their  dark  sayings;"^  under  which  titles  two 
species  of  poetry  seem  to  be  particularly  indicated,  dif- 
ferent indeed  in  many  respects,  yet  agreeing  in  some. 
The  one  I  call  didactic^  which  expresses  some  moral 
pecept  in  elegant  and  pointed  verses,  often  illustrated 
by  a  comparison  either  direct  or  implied ;  similar  to  the 
yf»/icu  (gnomai)  and  adages  of  tlie  wise  men :   the  other 

might  be  bis  ability  in  otber  respects,  a  ]>rofoand  knowledge  of  Hebrew 
was  certainlynot  among  his  eiteellencies.    M. 

»  To  tlie  above  examples  from  the  books  of  Moses  add  the  following  ♦ 
Gwi.  xxi.  6,  7.  xxiv.  60.  xxv.  23.  xxviii.  16,  17.  Observe  also  whether  the 
answer  of  God,  Numb.  xii.  6—8,  be  not  of  the  same  kind.    •tftilAor»*  JVbte. 

«1  See  PaoT.  i.  6.  Wis»,  vui.  8.  Ecclus.  I  25.  vi.  35.  xviii.  29.  xxxix. 
h  2,  3. 


Lbct.4.  SENTENTIOGS  STYLE.  6S 

ima  traljLpdetical»  adorned  with  all  the  move  splendid 
cdouriqg  of  language,    magnificently  sublime  in  the 
sentiments,  aaimated  by  the  most  pathetic  expfessioni 
and  diverafied  and  embeUtafaed  by  figurative  diction 
and  poetical  imagery ;  such  are  almost  sdl  the  remaining 
productions  of  the  prophets.    Brevity  or  conciseness 
was  a  chamctcriatic  cf  each  of  Aese.  forms  of  composi- 
tion,, and  a  degree  of  obscurity  iva&  not  unfirequently* 
attendant  t^xm  thb  studied  breyi^.    Each  consisted  ^* 
metrical /scotenoea ;  on  which^aoconat  cfatefty  ther  poetfc 
and  iM*overbial  language  seem  to  have  obtained  the  same 
appcUatifHi ;  and  in  these  two  kinds  of  composition  aU' 
knowle<%ei  human  and  divine.ivas.thou|^  to  be  com^- 
prized. 

The  sententious  s^le,  therefore,  I  define  to  be  the 
primary  characteristic  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  as  bring 
the  most  coos{mcuous  and  comprehensive  of  ail.  For 
although  that  style  seems  natondly  adapted  only  to  the 
didactic^  yet  it  iis  found  to  pervade  the  whole  of  the  po- 
cuy  of  the  Hebrews.  There  are  indeed  many  passages 
in  the  sacred  writings  highly  %urative,  and  infinitely 
sublime ;  but  all  of  them  manifestly  assume  a  senten^ 
tious  form.  There  are  some  too,  and  those  not  inele- 
gant, which  possess  little  more  of  the  cliaracteristics  of 
poetry  than  the  versification,  and  that  terseness  or  a^ 
daptauon  of  the  sentences,  which  constitutes  so  impor- 
tant a  part  even  of  the  harmony  of  verse.  This  b  man* 
ifest  in  most  of  the  didactic  pshms,  as  well  as  in  some 
othens,  thfs  matter,  order,  diction,  and  thoughts  of  which 
are  clearly  historical ;  but  the  conformation  of  the  sen- 
tences  wholly  poetical.  There  b  indeed  so  strict  an 
analogy  between  the  structure  of  the  sentences  and  the 
versificaticm,  that  when  the  former  chances  to  be  con- 
fused  or  obsoured,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  form  a  con- 


6i  OF  THE  PARABOLIC  AND  LtcT.  4. 

jecture  concerning  the  division  of  the  lines  or  verses, 
which  is  almost  the  only  part  of  the  Hebrew  versifica- 
tion thai  remains.  It  was  therefore  necessary,  before  I 
could  explain  the  mechanism  of  the  Hebrew  verse,  to 
remark  many  particulars,  which  properly,  belong  to  the 
present  topic. 

The  reason  of  this  (not  to  detain  you  with  what  is 
obvious  in  almost  every  page  of  the  sacred  poetry)  is  as 
follows.  The  Hebrew  poets  frequently  txprt^  a  sen- 
timent With  the  utmost  brevity  and  sim{dicity,  illustrat- 
ed by  Qo:  circumstances,  adorned  with  no  epithets 
(which  in  truth  they  seldom  use ;)  they  afterwards  call 
in  the  aid  of  ornament ;  they  repeat,  they  vary,  they 
amplify  the  same  sentiment ;  and  adding  one  or  more 
sentences  which  run  parallel  to  each  other,  they  express 
the  same  or  a  similar,  and  often  a  contrary  sentiment  in 
nearly  the  same  form  of  words.  Of  these  three  modes 
of  ornament  at  least  they  make  the  modt  frfequent  use, 
namely^  the  amplification  of  the  same  ideas,  the  accu- 
mulation of  others,  and  the  opposition  or  antithesis  of 
such  as  are  contrary  to  each  other ;  they  dispose  the 
corresponding  sentences  in  regular  distichs  adapted  to 
each  other,  and  of  an  equal  length,  in  which  for  the 
most  part,  things  answer  to  things,  and.  words  to  words, 
as  the  son  of  SiracKsays  of  the  works  of  God,  two  and 
two^  one  against  the  other J^  These  forms  again  are 
diversified  by  notes  of  admiration,  comparison,  nega- 
tion, and  more  particularly  interrogation,  whence  a  sin- 
gular degree  of  force  and  elevation  is  frequently  added 
to  the  composition. 

Each  language  possesses  a  peculiar  genius  and  char- 
acter, on  which  depend  tlie  principles  of  the  versifica- 
tion, and  in  a  great  measure  the  style  or  colour  of  the 
poetic  diction.    In  Hebrew  the  frequent  or  rather  per- 

^  ECCI.V8  zzxiii.  1$, 


Lect.  4.  SENTENTIOUS  STYLE.  «5 

petual  splendour  of  the  sentences,  and  the  accurate  re- 
currence of  the  clauses,  seem  absolutely  necessary  to 
distinguish  the  verse  :  so  that  what  in  any  other  lan- 
guage would  appear  a  superfluous  and  tiresome  repeti- 
tion,  in  this  cannot  be  omitted  without  injury  to  the 
poetry.  This  excellence  therefore  the  sententious  style 
possesses  in  the  Hebrew  poetry,  that  it  necessarily  pre^ 
vents  a  prosaic  mode  of  expression,  and  always  reduc- 
es a  composition  to  a  kind  of  metrical  form.  For,  as 
Cicero  remarks,  '*  in  certain  forms  of  expression  there 
••  exists  such  a  degree  of  conciseness,  that  a  sort  of 
**  metrical  arrangement  follows  of  course.  For  when 
**  words  or  sentences  directly  correspond,  or  when  con- 
"  traries  are  opposed  exactly  to  each  other,  or  even  when 
^'  words  of  a  similiar  sound  run  parallel,  the  composi- 
"  tion  will  in  general  have  a  metrical  cadence."*'  It 
possesses,  however,  great  force  in  other  respects,  and 
produces  several  great  and  remarkable  beauties  of  com- 
position. For,  as  the  sacred  poems  derive  from  this 
source  a  great  part  of  their  elegance,  harmony,  and 
splendour,  so  they  are  not  unfrequently  indebted  to  it 
for  their  sublimity  and  strength.  Frequent  and  laconic 
sentences  render  the  composition  remarkably  concise, 
harmonious,  and  animated  ;  the  brevity  itself  imparts 
to  it  additional  strength,  and  being  contracted  within 
a  narrower  space,  it  has  a  more  energetic  and  pointed 
effect. 

Examples  sufKcient  to  evince  the  truth  of  these  re- 
maxks  will  occur  hereafter  in  the  passages  which  wiU 
be  quoted  in  illustration  of  other  parts  of  our  subject  : 
and,  in  all  probability,  on  a  future  occasion  the  nature 
of  my  undertaking  will  require  a  more  ample  discus- 
sion of  this  subject."* 

»  Orfttor.  s«  See  X^t.  XIX. 

9 


LECTURE  V. 

OP  THE  FIGURAtlVB  STYLE,  AND  ITS  DIVISIONS. 

2*  The  Figurative  Style  ,•  to  be  treated  rather  according'  to  the  gpenius  of 
the  Hebrew  poetry  than  according  to  the  forms  and  arrangements  of 
rhetoricians— The  definition  and  constituent  parts  of  the  Figurative 
Style,  MsTAPHOB,  Aixeoort,  Compabiboit,  PsRsoKiriCATioir — The  reason 
of  this  mode  of  treating  the  subject :  difficulties  in  reading  the  Hebrew 
poetry,  which  result  from  the  Figurative  Style ;  how  to  be  avoided» 
1.  Of  tlie  Metaphor,  including  a  general  disquisition  concerning  poetic 
imagery  :  the  nature  of  which  is  explained ;  and  four  principal  sources 
pointed  out :  Nature,  Common  Life,  Religion,  History. 

JLn  my  last  lecture  I  offered  it  as  my  opinion,  that  the 
Hebrew  word  expressive  of  the  poetic  style  had  not  one 
simple  and  distinct  meaning,  but  might  commodiously 
enough  be  supposed  to  admit  of  three  contituent  parts 
or  divisions  :  in  other  words,  that  it  might  imply  the 
sententious^  the  figurative^  and  the  sublime.  On  the 
sententious  style,  its  nature,  origin,  and  effect  in  the  He- 
brew poetry,  I  offered  such  brief  remarks  as  occurred  to 
me  at  the  time :  and  now  that  I  am  about  to  treat  of  the 
figurative  style,  I  observe  before  me  an  infinity  of  mat- 
ter and  an  ample  field  ;  in  which,  lest  we  should  too 
freely  expatiate,  or  irregularly  wander,  the  scope  and 
order  of  our  journey, .  the  outlets  of  the  road,  the  cir- 
cuitous paths,  and  the  most  direct  avenues,  are  in  the 
first  place  to  be  carefully  investigated.  In  order  to  the 
full  comprehension  also  of  those  matters  which  will  be 
treated  of  in  this  part,  for  they  are  in  some  degree  remote 
from  common  use,  it  may  not  be  improper  previously  to 


Lb«t.  5.  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  0 

explain  as  clearly  as  possible,  and  therefore  with  some 
flegree  of  copiousness,  my  immediate  design ;  on  what 
principles,  in  what  order  and  method,  and  to  what  end 
I  mean  to  treat  of  the  figures  which  are  chiefly  employ- 
ed in  the  Hebrew  poetry* 

The  word  Mashal^  in  its  most  common  acceptation, 
denotes  resemblance,  and  is  therefore  directly  expressive 
of  the  figurative  style,  as  far  as  the  nature  of  figures  con- 
asts  in  the  substitution  of  words,  or  rather  of  ideas,  for 
those  which  they  resemble  ;  which  is  the  case  even  with 
roost  of  the  figures  that  have  been  remarked  by  the 
rhetoricians.     This  definition  therefore  of  the  figurative 
style,  drawn  both  from  the  writings  of  the  Hebrews,  and 
the  sense  of  the  word  itself,  I  mean  to  follow  in  explain- 
ing the  nature  of  their  poetry ;    and  this  I  do  the  more 
willingly,  because  it  will  enable  me  to  confine  our  in- 
vestigation within  narrower  limits.     I  shall  also  vei^ture 
to  omit  the  almost  innumerable  forms  of  the  Greek 
rhetoricians,   who  possessed  the  faculty  of  inventing 
names  in  the  highest  peilbction ;    I  shall  neglect  even 
their  primary  distinction  between  tropes  and  figures,* 
and  their  subdivisions  of  the  figures  themselves,  denom- 
inating some  figures  of  expression,  and  some  figures  of 
sentiment.     In  disregarding  these  distinctions,  I  might 
in  my  own  justification  alledge  the  authority  of  C.  Ar- 
torius  Proculus,  who  gave  the  name  of  figure  to  a  trope, 
as  Quintilian  informs  us ;    and  indeed  the  example  of 
Quintilian  himself.'    I  omit  them,  however,  upon  a  dif- 
ferent ground ;    for  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  in  their 

1  This  distinction  is  very  judiciously  laid  aside,  s'mf  e  each  of  these  words 
is  but  a  partial  mode  of  expressing  the  same  thing.  A  trope  signifies  no 
more  than  the  turning  a  word  from  its  appropriate  meaning ;  and  a  figure j 
an  appearance  incidentally  assumed,  without  the  least  implication  of  its  Us- 
ing borrowed.    S.  H. 

I  Sec  QciHT.  Lib.  IX.  I. 


61  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  Uct.  5. 

proper  place  they  are  destitute  either  of  reality  or  use : 
but  our  present  concern  h  not  to  explain  the  sentiments 
of  the  Greek  but  of  the  Hebrew  writers.  By  figurative 
language,  I  would  be  understood  to  mean  that,  in  which 
one  or  more  images  or  words  are  substituted  in  the  room 
of  others,  or  even  introduced  by  way  of  illustration  upon 
the  principle  of  resemblance.  That  resemblance,  if  it 
be  only  intimated,  and  confined  to  a  few  words,  is  called 
a  Metaphor  ;  if  the  figure  be  continued,  it  is  called  am 
Allegory  ;  if  it  be  directly  expressed  by  comparing  the 
ideas  together,  and  by  the  insertion  of  any  words  exprefri 
sive  of  likeness,  it  is  called  Sirmk  or  Comparison^    On 

8  Comparitott  appears  to  be  the  first  and  most  natural  of  all  rhetorical 
figures.  When  at  a  loss  to  explain  our  meaning,  we  naturally  apply  to  the 
associating  principle  to  furnish  an  illustration :  and  this  seems  almost  an 
involuntary  act  of  the  mind.  A  Metaphor  is  a  comparison,  without  the 
words  indicating  resemblance.  When  a  sarage  experienced  a  sensation^ 
for  which  he  had  as  yet  no  name,  he  applied  that  of  «he  idea  which  most 
resembled  it,  in  order  to  explain  himself.  Thus  the  words  expressing  the 
faculties  of  the  mind  are  taken  from  sensible  images,  as  fancy  from  pkan^ 
iasma  g  idea  in  the  original  language  means  an  image  or  picture  t  and  a  'maj^ 
has  always  been  used  tp  express  &e  ilibde  of  attaining  our  end  or  duhrt. 

There  is,  however,  another  reason  for  the  use  of  metaphorical  language » 
when  the  mind  is  agitated,  the  associations  are  more  strongly  felt,  and  the 
connected  ideas  will  more  readily  present  themselves  than  at  another  time. 
On  this  account  a  man  in  a  passion  will  frequently  reject  the  words  which 
simply  express  his  thoughts,  and,  for  the  sake  of  giving  them  more  force, 
will  make  use  of  images  stronger,  more  lively,  and  more  congenial  to  the 
tone  of  his  mind. 

The  principal  advantage  which  the  ipetaphor  pfMsesses  over  the  simile 
or  comparison,  seems  to  consist  in  the  former  transporting  the  mind,  and 
canying  it  nearer  to  the  reality  than  the  latter ;  as  when  we  say*—'*  Achil^ 
*'  les  rushed  like  a  lion,^  we  have  only  the  idea  of  a  man  going  on  furiously 
to  battle ;  but  \»  hen  we  say  instead  of  Achilles-*-"  The  lion  rushed  on,** 
the  idea  is  more  animated.  There  is  also  more  of  brevity  in  a  style  that 
abounds  in  metaphoi»,  than  in  a  style  which  consists  mote  of  comparisons ; 
and  therefore  it  proves  a  better  vehicle  for  the  sublime. 

The  rule  which  good  writers  seem  to  have  adopted  respecting  the  use  of 
similes  or  metaphors  is  this.  Where  the  resemblance  is  very  strong  and 
obvious,  it  may  be  expressed  by  a  simple  metaphor,  and  it  will,  in  general^ 
be  expressed  more  forcibly  ;  but  where  the  resopblanoe  is  nQt  so  ol^viov». 


LBCT.iL  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  ^ 

the  same  principle  of  resembkinoe  the  Froscpopma,  or 
PcrsDDificafticMi,  is  also  founded»  vfhtn  a  diaracter  and 
person  is  assigned  even  to  things  inaoimale  or  fictitious 
(which  is  a  bolder  species  of  metaphor)  or  when  a  proba- 
ble but  fictitious  speech  is  attributed  to  a  real  personage. 
I  mean,  therefore,  to  treat  of  these  figures  in  the  or* 
der  just  now  proposed ;  not  as  supposing  them  the  only 
figures  made  use  of  by  the  Hebrew  poets  */  but  in  the 

it  zequirc9  to  be  more  espandcd,  and  then  a  coinparUon  or  simile  will 
ndfther  appear  fbrmal  nor  pompous. 

There  m  another  obterration  coneemiBg  the  use  of  these  figviee,  n^iich 
1^  more  common,  tboug^b  I  do  not  think  the  reason  of  it  is  generally  under^ 
stood.  Comparisons  are  unnatural  in  extremes  of  patnon,  though  meta- 
phors are  not.  The  truth  is,  the  mind  when  strongly  agitated  readily  catch« 
t»  at  slight  aa^ociationsc  and  neti^ihorB  therefore  are  instantaiiBoualy  form* 
ed  i  but  it  is  impossible  that  the  mind  should  dwell  upon  them  with  the 
fiannality  and  exactness  of  a  person  making  a  comparison.  T. 

4  To  the  figures  specified  by  our  author,  ihetoricians  have  added  innu- 
memble  others  of  lest  importance.  The  principal  of  these,  and  the  most 
comeeted  with  poetry,  are  mefonyfi^,  periphrana,  apoHrophe,  and  hyperb9le, ' 

In  order  to  explain  the  nature  and  origin  of  these  and  the  other  tropes  or 
figures,  I  must  remind  the  reader  that  the  associating  principle  is  the  true 
source  of  all  figurative  language.  I  must  also  remind  him,  that  all  ideaa 
«re  associated  or  introduced  into  the  mind  by  one  of  these  three  relations  ; 
CnUiguity  in  time  and  place,  cauwe  and  effect,  or  resemblance.  On  the  latter 
of  these  relations  d^)end  cemparieontf  metaphr;  atte^wrie;  &c.  and  on  the 
other  relations  depend  the  metetufmy,  the  peripkraeie,  the  preeop^paia,  and 
probably  the  apoitrophe. 

The  word  Metemfmy  cHdently  means  a  change  i{f  name,  an  adoption  of 
some  other  mark  to  signify  an  idea,  than  that  which  was  originall/  assign-* 
ed  it.  This  figure  therefore  is  most  frequently  derived  from  the  relation 
of  cauee  and  effect,  and  sometimes  from  that  of  contiguity :  thus  we  sub- 
stitute the  cause  for  the  effect,  when  we  say — **  We  have  read  Pope,"  for 
*'  the  works  of  Pope  ;**  and  the  effect  for  the  cause,  when  we  say — "  The 
**  day  arose,**  for  "  the  sun  arose  :"  for  further  illustration  I  refer  to  Dr. 
Pxf  xsTLET^s  InntiAttc9  of  Oratory  and  Criticiam,  p.  238.  The  Periphratia 
is  little  else  than  a  species  of  MetonjTny,  as  «•  the  lover  of  Daphne,"  for 
Apollo.  For  the  connection  between  the  Metonymy  and  the  Prosopopceia, 
see  a  note  on  the  13th  lecture.  The  Jpottrophe  is  a  more  animated  Proso- 
popoia,  when  the  thing  personified  is  spoken  to  in  the  second  person,  or  a 
distant  person  or  thing  is  addressed  as  present.  A  most  beautiful  and  pa. 
thetic  instance  is  that  of  Ere,  Paradiee  Lo%t,  B.  II.  v.  2(S9. 


70  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  LE.t.  5. 

first  place,  because  they  chiefly  come  within  the  defini- 
tion of  the  parabolic  style  ;  because  too  they  most  fre- 
quently occur  in  the  sacred  poetry,  and  constitute  some 
of  its  greatest  beauties :  insomuch  that  their  true  force 
and  energy  b  in  no  other  compositions  so  apparent  I 
must  add,  that  it  will  not  be  sufficient  to  illustrate  them 
barely  by  producing  a  few  examples,  as  if  matters  un- 
common and  abstruse  were  the  object  of  our  inquiry, 
and  not  such  as  spontaneously  occur  on  almost  every 
occasion.  It  will  be  necessary  to  proceed  still  further 
if  possible ;  it  will  be  necessary  to  inquire  whether  there 
^  was  any  mode  of  using  them  peculiar  to  the  Hebrews ; 
the  particular  and  interior  elegancies  of  them  are  to  be 
investigated :  and  to  this  object  of  our  pursuit  we  shall 

The  Bjfperhole  is  nothings  more  than  an  excess  of  figurative  language,  the 
eflTect  of  passion.  All  the  passions  are  inclined  to  magnify  the  objecta.  In- 
juries seem  greater  than  they  really  are  to  those  who  have  received  them  ( 
and  dangers  to  those  who  are  in  fear.  The  lover  naturally  makes  a  divinity 
of  his  mbtrcss  :  valour  and  contempt  are  equally  inclined  to  degrade  and 
diminish.  This  figure,  tlierefore,  in  particular,  requires  passion  to  give  it 
force  or  propriety }  and  if  this  be  not  the  case,  it  renders  a  style  very  bom- 
bastic  and  frigid.  Lucan  is  too  fond  of  this  figure.  See  the  first  six  lints 
•f  Bowk's  Lucah,  where  "  The  Sun 

*«  -— sicken'd  to  behold  Emathia's  plain, 

**  And  would  have  sought  the  backward  East  again." 
And  in  B.  VL  v.  329. 

*'  The  missive  arms  fix'd  all  around  he  wears, 

'<  And  even  his  safety  in  his  wounds  he  bears, 

'<  Fenc'd  with  a  fatal  wood,  a  deadly  grove  of  spears.** 
Kothing  indeed  can  be  more  bombastic,  than  the  whole  description  of  tfai» 
warrior's  death.  The  poet  calls  upon  the  Pompeians  to  lay  siege  to  him  as 
they  would  to  a  town  ;  to  bring  battering  engines,  fiames,  racks,  &c.  to  sub* 
due  him.  lie  is  first  compared  to  an  elephant,  and  again  to  a  hunted  boarw- 
at  length 

" when  none  were  left  him  to  repel, 

"  Fainting  for  want  of  foes  the  victor  fell.*' 
Some  of  tlie  extravagance  of  the  above  may,  however,  be  the  ikult  of  the 
translator,  but  how  far  I  could  not  determine,  as  I  have  not  the  original  by 
.ne  ;  nor  is  it  of  any  consequence  to  the  English  reader.    T. 


Lect.  5.  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  ri 

not,  I  apprehend,  find  any  easier  access,  than  by  that 
track,  which  the  nature  of  the  subject  itself  obvbusly 
indicates  to  us. 

It  is  the  peculiar  design  of  the  figurative  style,  taken 
in  the  sense  in  which  I  have  explained  it,  to  exhibit  ob« 
jects  in  a  clearer  or  more  striking,  in  a  sublimer  or  more 
fi>rcible  manner.   Since,  therefore,  whatever  is  employed 
with  a  view  to  the  illustration  and  elevation  of  another 
subject,  ought  itself  to  be  as  familiar  and  obvious,  at  the 
same  time  as  grand  and  magnificent  as  possible,  it  be- 
comes  necessary  to  adduce  images  from  those  objects, 
with  which  both  the  \i'**'^ers  and  the  persons  they  address 
are  well  acquainted,  and  which  have  been  constantly  es- 
teemed of  the  highest  dignity  and  importance.     On  the 
other  hand,  if  the  reader  be  accustomed  to  habits  of  life 
totally  different  from  those  of  the  author,  and  be  conver- 
sant only  with  different  objects ;   in  that  case  many  de- 
scriptions and  sentiments,  which  were  clearly  illustrated 
and  magnificently  expressed  by  the  one,  will  appear  to 
the  other  mean  and  obscure,  harsh  and  unnatural :  and 
this  will  be  the  case  more  or  less,  in  proportion  as  they 
differ  or  are  more  remote  from  each  other  in  time,  situa- 
tion, customs  saCred  or  pro&ne,  in  fine,  in  all  the  forms 
of  public  and  private  life.     On  this  account  difficulties 
must  occur  in  the  perusal  of  almost  every  work  of  lite- 
rature, and  particularly  in  poetry,  where  every  thing  is 
depicted  and  illustrated  with  the  greatest  variety  and 
abundance  of  imagery ;  they  must  be  still  more  nume- 
rous in  such  of  the  poets  as  are  foreign  and  ancient ;  in 
the  Orientals  above  all  foreigners,  they  being  the  farthest 
removed  from  our  customs  and  manners ;  and  of  all  the 
Orientals  more  especially  in  the  Hebrews,  theirs  being 
confessedly  the  most  ancient  compositions  extant     To 
all  who  apply  themselves  to  the  study  of  their  poetry, 


72  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  t&cT.S« 

for  the  reaaoBs  which  I  have  enumerated,  dsficiritiea  Mi 
ux:oavenienees  must  necessarily  occur.  Not  only  the 
antiquity  of  these  writings  forms  a  principal  obstruction 
in  many  respects  ;  but  the  manner  of  living:,  of  speak- 
ing, of  thinkiag,  which  prevailed  in  those  times,  will  be 
found  altogether  d^rent  from  our  customs»  and  habits. 
There  is  therefoFe  greal  dunger,  lest  viewing  them  from 
an  improper  situation,  and  rashly  estimating  sdl  things 
by  our  own  standard.  We  form  ail  erroneous  judgements 
Of  thi&  kind  of  mistake  we  are  to  be  always  aware, 
and  these  inconveniences  are  to  be  counteracted  by  all 
possible  diligence :  nor  is  it  enough  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  language  of  thb  people,  their  manners,  dtsci* 
pline,  rites  and  ceremonies  r^  we  miust  even  investigate 
their  inmost  sentiment^  the  manner  and'  connexion  of 
their  thoughts ;  in  one  word,  we  must  see  all  thk^  wid^ 
their  eyes,  estimate  all  things  by  their  opinions:  we* 
must  endeavout  as  much  as  possible  to  read  Hebrewas' 
the  Hebrews  would  have  read  it.  We  must  act  as  the* 
astronomers  with  regard  to  that  branch  of  dieir  science 
which  is  called  comparative,  who^  in  order  to  form  a 
more  perfect  idea  of  the  general  system,  and  its  dUSnr- 
ent  parts,  conceive  themselves  as  passing^  through,  and- 
surveying  the  whole  universe,  migrating  from  (xie  plan« 
et  to  another,  and  becoming  for  a  short  time  inhabitants^ 
of  each.  Thus  they  clearly  contemplate,  and  accurately 
estimate  what  each  possesses  peculiar  to  itself  with  res- 
pect to  situation,  celerity,  satellites,  and  its  relation  to 
the  rest ;  thus  they  distinguish  what  and  how  difierent 
an  appearance  of  the  universe  is  exhibited  according  to 
the  different  situations  from  which  it  is  contemplated. 
In  like  manner,  he  who  would  perceive  and  feel  the  pe» 
euliar  and  interior  elegancies  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  must 
imagine  himself  exactly  situated  «as  the  persons  for  whom 


LftcT.S.  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  7$ 

it  was  written,  or  even  as  the  writers  themselves }  he 
ihust  not  attend  to  the  ideas  which  on  a  cursory  reading 
certain  wofds  would  obtradd  upon  his  mind ;  he  is  to 
fieel  dim  as  a  Hebrew,  hearing  or  delivering  the  same 
^^wds,  at  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  country.  As 
fur  as  he  is  able  to  pursue  this  (dan,  so  &r  he  wUl  com- 
prehend their  ftirce  and  excellence.  This  indeed  in 
ttiany  cases  it  wttl  not  be  easy  to  do;  in  some  it  will  be 
nupossible ;  in  all,  however,  it  ou^t  to  be  regaided, 
and  in  those  passages  particularly  in  which  the  figura. 
tiv^  style  is  found  to  prevail. 

In  the  metaphor  for  instance  (and  what  I  ramrk  con- 
cermng  it  may  be  applied  to  all  the  rest  of  the  figures, 
since  they  are  all  naturally  allied  to  each  other)  two  cir- 
eumstanoes  are  to  be  especially  regarded,  on  which  its 
whole  force  and  elegance  will  depend  t  first,  that  resem- 
bbtice  which  is  the  ground* work  of  the  figurative  and 
parabolic  style,  and  which  will  perhaps  be  sufficiendy 
apparent,  even  from  a  common  and  indistinct  knowledge 
of  the  objects ;  and  secondly,  the  beauty  or  dignity  of 
the  idea  which  is  substituted  for  another ;  and  this  is  a 
circumstance  of  unusual  nicety.  An  opinion  of  grace 
ttid  dignity  results  firequenUy,  not  so  much  from  the  ob- 
jects themselves,  in  which  these  qualities  are  supposed 
Id  exbt,  as  from  the  disposition  of  .tlie  spectator ;  or 
from  softie  slight  and  obscure  relation  or  connexion 
winch  they  have  with  some  other  things.  Thus  it  some- 
times happens,  that  the  external  form  and  lineaments 
may  be  sufficiently  apparent,  though  the  original  and 
intrinsic  beauty  and  elegance  be  totally  erased  by  time. 

For  these  reasons,  it  will  perhaps  not  be  an  useless 
undertaking,  when  we  treat  of  the  metaphors  of  the  sa- 
cred poets,  to  enter  more  fully  into  the  nature  of  their 
poetical  imagery  in  general,  of  D^ich  the  metaphor  con- 
10 


74  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  L«c*.  5 

stitutes  so  principal  a  part  By  thb  mode  of  proceed- 
ing, we  aiuli  be  enabled  not  only  to  discern  the  general 
beauty  and  elegance  of  this  figure  in  the  Hebrew  poetiy, 
but  the  peculiar  elegance,  which  it  frequently  possesses» 

/  if  we  only  consider  how  forciblejt  must  have  appgred 
to  those  for  whom  it  was  originally  intended ;  and  what 
a  connexion  and  s^reement  these  figurative  expressions 
must  have  had  witk  their  circumstances,  feelings,  and 
opinions.  Thus  many  expressions  and  allusions,  which 
even  now  appear  beautiful,  must,  when  considered  in 
this  manner,  shine  with  redoubled  lustre;^  and  many» 
which  now  strike  the  superficial  reader  as  coarse,  mean, 
or  deformed,  must  appear  graceful,  elegant,  and  sublime* 
The  whcde  course  of  nature,  this  immense  universe 
of  tilings,  offers  itself  to  human  contemplation,  and  af- 
fords an  infinite  variety,  a  confused  assemblage,  a  wil- 
denness,  as  it  were,  of  images,  which,  being  coUeoted  as 
the  materials  of  poetry,  are  selected  and  produoed  as 
occasion  dictates.  The  mind  of  mat^  that  mirror  of 
Plato/  which  as  he  turns  about  at  pleasure,  and  directs 

'  to  a  different  point  of  view,  he  creates  another  sun,  other 
stars,  planets,  animals,  and  even  another  self.  In  this 
shadow  or  image  of  himself,  which  man  behplds  when 
the  mirror  is  turned  inward  towards  himself,  he  is  ena- 
bled in  some  degree  to  contemplate  the  souls  of  other 
men  :  for,  from  what  he  feels  and  perceives  in  himself, 
he  forms  conjecture&eoncerning  others ;  and  apjn-ebends 
and  describes  the  manners,  affections,  conceptions  of 
others  from  his  own.  Of  this  assemblage  of  images, 
which  the  human  mind  collects  from  all  nature,  and 
even  from  itself,  that  is,  from  its  own  emotions  and  op- 
erations, the  least  clear  and  evident  are  those  which  arc 
'    explored  by  reason  and  argument ;  the  more  evident  and 

'  2fo  R«p,  Lib.  X.  sub  iniC 


Lect.  S.  figurative  LANGUAGE.  r$ 

distinct  are  those  which  are  formed  from  ihc  impressions 
made  by  external  objects  on  the  senses ;  and  of  these, 
the  clearest  and  most  vivid  are  those  which  are  perceiv- 
ed by  the  eye.  Hence  poetry  abounds  most  in  those 
images  which  are  furnished  by  the  senses,  and  chiefly 
those  of  the  sight;  in  order  to  depict  the  obscure  by  the 
more  manifest,  die  subtile  by  the  more  substantial ;  and» 
as  far  as  simplici^  is  its  object,  it  pursues  those  ideas 
which  are  most  &miliar  and  most  evident ;  of  which 
diere  is  such  an  abundance,  that  they  serve  as  well  the 
purpose  of  ornament  and  variety,  as  that  of  illustration. 
Those  images  or  pictures  of  external  objects,  which 
like  lights  adorn  and  distingubh  the  poetic  diction,  are. 
indeed  infinite  in  number.  In  an  immensity  of  matter» 
however,  that  we  may  be  enabled  to  pursue  some  kind 
of  order,  and  not  wander  in  uncertainty  and  doubt,  we 
may  venture  to  fix  upon  four  sources  of  these  ideas, 
mother  all  that  occur  nuiy  be  commodiously  referred. 
Thus,  poetical  imagery  may  be  derived  first,  from  nat* 
ural  objects ;  secondly,  from  the  manners,  arts,  and 
circumstances  of  common  life ;  thirdly,  fronr  things 
sacred  ;  and  lastiy,  from  the  more  remarkable  fiicts  re* 
corded  in  sacred  history.  From  each  of  these  topics  a 
few  cases  will  be  selected,  and  illustrated  by  examples» 
Yi^ch  though  chiefly  of  the  metaphorical  kind,  will  yet 
be  in  a  great  measure  applicable  to  the  other  figures 
which  have  been  specified ;  these  we  shall  afterwards 
take  an  opportunity  to  explain,  when  not  only  the  fig- 
ures themselves  will  be  noticed,  but  also  the  different 
forms  and  rules  for  their  introduction  and  embellish» 
ment. 


v/C 


LECTURE  VI. 


OF  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  THE  OBJECTS  OF  NATURB. 

The  frequent  use  ef  tlie  metaphor  renders  a  style  magnificent,  Imt  ofteq 
obscure :  the  Hebrew  poets  hare  accomplished  the  sublime  without  lo»- 
ing  perspicuity— Three  causes  assig^ned  for  this  singular  fapt :  first,  the 
imagery  which  they  introduce  is  in  general  derired  from  familiar  ob- 
jects :  again,  in  the  use  and  accommodation  of  it  they  pursue  a  certaoi 
custom  and  analogy :  lastly,  they  make  the  most  free  use  of  that  whid^ 
is  most  familiar,  and  the  nature  and  extent  of  which  is  most  generally 
known— These  obserrations  confirmed  by  examples  (1.)  from  natural 
objects :  such  as  are  common  to  mankind  in  general ;  such  as  aze  mom 
fiunilisr  to  the  Hebrews  than  to  others ;  and  such  as  are  peculiar  tq 
them. 

"  1  HE  great  excellence  of  the  poetic  dialect,"  as  Aris» 
totle  most  judiciously  remarks,  ^*  consists  in  perspicui- 
*'  ty  without  meanness.  Familiar  terms  and  words  ii^ 
'*  common  use  form  a  clear  and  perspicuous,  but  fre- 
**  qucntlj»^  a  low  style ;  unusual  or  foreign  expressions 
**  give  it  an  air  of  grandeur,  but  frequently  render  it 
*•  obscure."*  Of  thosp  which  he  calls  foreign,  the 
principal  force  lies  in  the  metaphor ;   but  **  as  the  tem- 

^  "  perate  and  reasonable  use  of  this  figure  enlivens  a 
*^  composition,  so  the  frequent  introduction  of  meta? 

'^   *•  phors  obsgures  it,  and  if  they  yery  commonly  occur, 

1  Poet,  c.  23.  Modem  writers  are  hardly  aware  of  the  ill  consequence 
of  what  is  called  far-fetched  imagery,  or  that  which  is  taken  from  objects 
not  generally  known.  This  was  the  great  error  of  Cowley,  and  the  meta^ 
physical  poets  of  the  last  centuty ;  an  error  ibr  which  no  beauties  Can 
compensate,  which  always  gives  a  harshness,  often  a  prosaic  appearance  to 
poetry,  and  never  fails  to  be  attended  with  some  degree  of  obscurity.    J, 


Lbct.£«  PQSTi9  IMAGERY,  fcc.  77 

''  it  will  he  little  better  than  aki^iugma.''V  If  the  He* 
brew  poets  be  examined  by  the  rules  and  precepts  of 
this  great  philosopher  and  crilic,  it  will  readily  be  al- 
lowed,  that  they  have  assiduously  attended  to  the  sub- 
limity of  their  Qompositions  by  the  abundance  and 
splendQur  of  their  figqres ;   though  it  may  be  doubled 
whether  they  might  not  have  been  more  temperate  in 
the  use  of  them*    For  in  those  poems  at  least,  in  which 
something  of  ungommon  grandeur  and  sublimity  ia 
aimed  at»  then^  predominate  a  perpetual,  I  had  almost 
said  a  continued  use  c^  tbf  metaphor^  sometimes  dar^^ 
ingly  introduced,  sometimes  rushing  in  with  imminent 
ba»rd  pf  l^^i^ty,    A  metaphor  thus  licentiously  in» 
truded,  is  frequently  continued  to  an  immoderate  exr 
tent    The  Orientals  are  attached  to  this  style  of  com- 
position )  and  many  flights  which  our  ears,  too  fastidi- 
ous perhaps  in  the^e  respects,  will  scarcely  bear,  must 
be  allowed  to  the  general  freedom  and  boldness  of  these 
writers»    But  if  we  examine  the  sacred  poems,  and 
oonsickr  at  the  same  time  that  a  great  degree  of  obscurr 
ity  must  result  from  the  total  oblivion  in  which  many 
sources  of  their  imagery  must  be  involved ;   of  which 
many  examples  are  to  be  found  in  the  Song  of  Solomon, 
fis  weU  as  in  other  parte  of  the  sacred  writings ;  we 
shall,  I  think,  find  cause  to  wonder  that  in  writings  of 
so  great  antiquity,  and  in  such  an  unlimited  use  of  fig- 
urative expression,  there  should  yet  appear  so  mucl^ 
purity  and  perspicuity,  both  in  sentiment  and  languagCf 
In  onler  to  explore  the  real  cause  of  this  reniarkable 
^ct,  and  to  explain  more  accurately  the  genius  of  the 
parabolic  style,  )  shall  premise  a  few  observations  con- 
cerning the  use  of  the  metaphor  in  the  Hebrew  poetry ; 
^hia|i  I  tru^t  will  be  suiEciently  clear  to  those  who  pe^ 

9 12)»  fc  Qourr.  TJii.  6. 


V 


n  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lsct.  6« 

ruse  it  with  attention,  and  which  I  think  in  general  are 
founded  in  truth. 

In  the  first  place»  the  Hebrew  poets  frequently  make 
use  of  imagery  borrowed  from  common  life,  and  firom 
objects  well  known  and  &miliar.  On  this  the  perspi* 
cuity  of  figurative  language  will  be  fouhd  in  a  great 
measure  to  depend :  For  a  principal  use  of  metaphors 
is  to  illustrate  the  subject  by  a  tacit  comparison ;  but  if» 
instead  of  fSuniliar  ideas,  we  introduce  such  as  are  new, 
and  not  perfectly  underatood ;  if  we  endeavour  to  de« 
monstrete  what  is  plain  by  what  is  occult,  instead  of 
making  a  subject  clearer,  we  render  it  more  perplexed 
and  difficult.  To  obviate  this  mconvenience,  we  must 
take  care,  not  only  to  avoid  the  violent  and  too  finequent 
use  of  metaphon,  but  also  not  to  introduce  such  as  are 
obscure  and  but  slightly  related.  From  these  causes, 
and  especially  from  the  latter,  arises  the  difficulty  of  the 
Latin  satirist  Persius ;  and  but  fix*  the  uncommon  ac- 
curacy of  the  sacred  poets  in  this  respect,  we  should  now 
be  scarcely  able  to  comprehend  a  single  word  of  their 
productions. 

In  the  next  place,  the  Hebrews  not  only  deduce  their 
metaphors  from  familiar,  or  well-known  objects,  but 
preserve  one  constant  track  and  manner  in  the  use  and 
accommodation  of  them  to  their  subject.  The  parabdic 
may  incited  bf  accounted  a  peculiar  style,  in  which  things 
moral,  political  and  divine,  are  marked  and  represented 
by  comparisons  implied  or  expressed  and  adopted  from 
sensible  objects.  As  in  common  and  plain  language, 
therefore,  certain  words  serve  for  signs  of  certain  ideas ; 
so,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  parabolic  style,  certain  nat» 
ural  images  serve  to  illustrate  certain  ideas  more  abstruse 
and  refined.  This  assertion  indeed  is  not  to  be  under^ 
9XQod  absolutely  without  exception ;  but  thus  far  at  teasi 


IftcT. «.  THE  OBJECTS  OP  NATUltE.  f 9 

iwe  tnay  affimit  that  die  sacred  poets  in  iUustniting  the 
same  subject^  make  a  anuch  more  conalant  use  of  the 
same  imagery  than  other  poets  are  accostomed  to :  and 
this  practice  has  a  surprising  cflfect  in  preserving  per- 
q^icuity. 

I  must  observe  in  the  last  placet  that  the  Hebrews  em- 
ploy more  freely  and  more  daringly  that  imi^ery  in  par- 
ticular, which  is  borrowed  from  the  most  obvious  and 
fiuniliar  objects,  and  the  figurative  eflSH:t  of  which  is  es* 
taWshed  and  defined  by  general  and  constant  use.  This, 
as  it  renders  a  composition  clear  and  luminous  even  where 
there  is  the  greatest  danger  of  obscurity ;  so  it  shelters 
eflfectually  the  sacred  poets  from  the  imputation  of  exu- 
berance, harshness,  or  bombast.* 

In  order  to  confirm  and  illustrate  by  examples  what 
has, been  briefly  set  forth  in  the  prewding  remarks,  I 
shall  proceed  to  con^der  a  few  instances  of  metaphors 
derived  from  natural  objects,^  and  such  as  are  most  in 

s  It  is  very  obfcrrable  in  our  own  as  well  as  other  langoagef»  how  miich 
■leUphort  lose  of  the  figumthre  tense  by  repetition ;  and  it  is  curious  to 
Mmak  how  metaphors  are  in  this  manner  derired  from  one  another.  Fromr 
Hkt  reeemblance  of  a  narrow  bed  of  metal  running  in  the  earth  to  the  shii^ 
stionof  aTcmin  thehumanbody,  it  has  taken  that  name ;  and  hentie  I 
apprehesid  are  derired  the  eipresaions,  » i»m  ^^iry»  a  veAi  ^/  hmuur^ 
Uc    T. 

«  The  frequent  recurrence  for  metaphorical  expressions  to  natural  ob^ 
jects,  and  pertieularly  to  plants  and  to  trees»  is  so  oharacteristic  of  the 
Hebrew  poetfy,  that  it  m%ht  be  ahnost  called  Uie  AsHmiM/ poetry.  This 
drcumstance,  however»  is  not  at  aU  eztraor^naxy^  if  we  consider  that  the» 
greater  part  of  that  people  were  occupied  with  tilling  the  earth,  and  keep' 
big  their  flocks ;  and  forthtf^  that  the  cultivation  of  poetiy,  instead  of  be- 
ing conflnert  to  the  learned,  wns  so  generally  diflused,  that  eveiy  valley  re- 
echoed the  songs  of  the  shepherds.  Hence  in  the  very  few  remains  of  the- 
Hebrew  writii^  which  are  come  down  to  us»  I  mean  the  Scriptures»  there 
sfe  upwards  of  350  botanical  terms,  which  none  use  so  frequently  as  the 
poets :  and  thia  circumstance  I  think  ^ves  sn  air  of  pastoral  elegance  to 
their  poetry,  which  any  modem  writer  will  emulate  in  vain. 

It  is,  however,  extraordinary,  that  the  stars  should  be  so  seldom  men- 
tioned m  the  HcbKW  poetry,  fyt  the  names  of  not  more  than  three  or  fovr. 


lO  NOETIC  lltAtiERY  ^OKi  lM&t.€i 

i 

use :  Tliis  I  sludl  do  in  kueh  ft  maiUiet*,  that  whatever 
observations  occur  upon  one  Or  two  of  Ih^m,  may  be 
Applied  to  many  other  instances. 

Th£  imaged  cS  Ugfa  and  darkness  are  cotiimonly 
made  use  of  in  all  languages  to  imply  or  denotie  pros* 
perity  and  adversity,  agreeably  to  the  common  sense 
and  perceptiOii  whi^h  all  men  have  of  the  objecto  them- 
selves. But  the  Hebrews  employ  those  metaphors  moire 
frequently,  and  with  less  Vtfisktioii  than  other  people  3 
indeed  they  seldom  refhiin  from  ttiem  Whenever  ths 
object  reqoil^s,  or  will  even  admit  of  thei^  kitroductiem 
These  expressions^  dierefcNrei  miy  be  acGOtinted  among 
tiiose  forms  of  st)ee(ih,  which  in  the  parabolic  style  are 
established  and  defined ;  since  they  exhibit  the  most 
noted  and  familiar  images,  and  iikt  applica!&n  of  them 

occur  in  the  whole  BiUe.  It  has  been  said,  that  the  patriarchal  ahepherda 
applied  very  much  to  the  study  of  astronotny ;  but  if  so,  whence  is  it,  tha;t 
We  meet  with  such  frequent  alloaiona  to  botanical  subjects,  and  So  few  tf>' 
the  heavenly  luminaries  ?  A  comet  is,  however,  I  think,  spoken  of  in  Xumb. 
xxiv.  IT.  and  in  allusion  to  David,  but  it  is  by  Balaam,  who,  resi^ng^  on 
the  borders  of  the  Euphrates,  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  was  not  ahogethei' 
«naequunted  with  the  Sabylonish  sciences.    M. 

There  appears  but  Mttle  foundation  for  this  last  remaHc  Of  the  learned 
professor.  For  in  reality,  so  little  are  the  heavenly  bodies  subjects  of  po-' 
etic  allusion,  '^at  W£  find  them  but  seldom  in^oduoed  into  any  poetry 
either  ancient  or  modem.  Our  annotator  seems  to  forget  that  poetry  is  no 
more  than  painting  in  language,  arid  has  not  respect  to  names  bvit  appenr- 
ances.  The  appearance  of  every  star  is  nearly  the  same,  and  consequently 
they  can  furnish  no  great  Variety  of  imagery,  and  that  can  only  relate  to 
their  general  qualities,  their  splendour,  &c.  whereas  the  nature  and  viaifalo 
qualities  of  plants  are  infinitely  diversified,  and  therefore  admit  of  a  much 
greater  variety  of  allusion.  Indeed  a  poem,  the  principal  imagery  of  whidi 
consisted  of  the  names  of  stars,  would  be  a  vei^  strange  and  a  very  didl 
production.  We  cannot,  therefore,  arg^e  from  the  silence  of  the  Hebrew 
poetry,  tliat  Moses  or  the  writers  of  the  Scriptures  were  ignorMit  of  aft* 
tronomy ;  neither  is  it  fair  to  suppose  that  a  naHan  of  thepkerdtf  m  the  ae» 
rene  cvuniry  of  tlie  East,  were  unacquainted  with  the  Am^  of  A#<iwii,  which» 
in  truth,  from  these  causes,  were  tlie  objects  of  adoration,  and  even  of 
worship,  in  those  parts,  as  i^pears  from  the  preface  to  Mr.  Woojs's  Ac^ 
ewtU  of  the  Mmru  of  BM99.    T. 


Lbct.4.  the  objects  OF  NATURE.  81 

on  this  occasion  is  justified  by  an  acknowledged  analo* 
gy,  and  approved  by  constant  and  unvarying  custom. 
In  the  use  of  images,  so  conspicuous  and  so  familiar 
among  the  Hebrews,  a  degree  of  boldness  is  excusable. 
The  Latins  introduce  them  more  sparingly,  and  there- 
fore are  more  cautious  in  the  application  of  them : 

Restore,  great  chief,  thy  ceantry's  light  { 

Di8i>el  the  dreuy  shades  of  night  i 

Thy  aspect  lllw  the  spring  shall  cheer» 

And  brighter  suns  shall  gild  the  year.' 

The  most  respectable  of  the  Roman  Muses  have  scarce.^ 
ly  any  thing  more  elegant,  I  will  add  at  the  same  time 
that  they  have  scarcely  any  thing  bolder  on  any  similar 
occasion.  But  tbt  Hebrews,  upon  a  subject  more  sub- 
lime  indeed  b  itself,  and  lUustraidng  it  by  an  id^  which 
was  more  habitual  to  them,  more  daringly  exalt  their 
strains,  and  give  a  loose  nein  to  the  spirit  of  poetry. 
They  display,  for  instance,  not  the  image  of  the  spring, 
of  Aurora,  of  the  dreary  night,  but  the  sun  and  stars  as 
rising  with  increased  splendour  in  a  new  creation,  or  a- 
gain  involved  in  chaos  and  primeval  darkness.  Does 
the  sacred  bard  promise  to  his  people  a  renewal  of  the 
divine  favour,  and  a  recommencement  of  universal 
prosperity  ?  In  what  magnificent  colours  does  he  depict 
it !  such  indeed  as  no  translation  can  illustrate,  but  such 
as  none  can  obscure : 

^  The  light  4>f  the  moon  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun,® 
M  And  the  light  of  the  sun  shall  be  sevenfold."' 

'  Hob.  Carm.  it.  S. 

^  Hence  Milton  perhaps  adopted  his 

"  —  another  morning 

**  Ris'n  on  midnoon,  &c.  ParadUe  Lo$$,  V.  308.    S.  U. 

7  IiAz.  zxx.  36.  These  and  the  following  descriptions  of  the  increased 
splendour  of  the  son  and  the  stars»  are  not  taken  from  natural  objects,  but 
fr9ifi  fable.\  The  remarkable  fieUcity  of  the  people  is  compafcd  with  tb*t 


H2  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  L«t.  6. 

But  even  this  is  not  sufficient : 

.«  No  longer  shall  ihou  have  the  sun  for  thy  lig^ht  by  day ; 

«  Nor  by  night  shall  the  brightness  of  the  moon  enlighten  thee  i 

<(  For  Jehovah  shall  be  to  thee  an  everlasung  lighty 

«  And  thy  God  shall  be  thy  glory. 

<<  Thy  sun  shall  no  more  deciuie ; 

«  Neither  «{lall  thy  moon  wane  ; 

<<  For  Jehovah  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light; 

^'  And  the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  cease/'* 

In  another  place  he  has  admirably  diversified  the  same 

sentiment : 

«  And  the  moon  shall  be  confounded,  and  the  sun  shall  be  ashamed; 

M  For  Jehovah  God  of  Hosts  shall  reign 

<<  On  Mount  Sion,  and  in  Jerusalem  ; 

^  And  before  his  antients  shall  he  be  glorified.' 

On  the  other  hand,  denouncing  ruin  against  the  proud 
king  of  Egypt : 

<*  And  when  I  shall  put  thee  out,  I  will  cover  the  heavens, 

^*  And  the  stars  thereof  will  I  make  dark  ; 

<^  I  will  involve  the  sun  in  a  cloud, 

('  Nor  shall  the  moon  give  out  her  light. 

<(  All  the  bright  lights  of  heaven  will  I  make  dark  over  thee,^ 

"  And  I  will  set  darkness  upon  thy  land,  saith  the  Lord  Jero* 

<*  VAH."*«» 

These  expressions  are  bold  and  daring :  but  the  imagery 
/  -.        isjKellAnown,  the  use  of  it  is  common,  the  significatioa 
'     .     /^efini^r;  they  are  therefore  perspicuous,  clear,  and  truly 
magnificent. 

There  are,  moreover,  other  images  from  natural  ob- 
jects, which  although  in  some  measure  common  to  other 
nations  as  well  as  the  Hebrews,  are  nevertheless,  from 

golden  age,  of  which  the  prophet»  had  acquired  a  knowledge  from  the- 
Ep^tians.  Isaiah  has  expatiated  very  much  upon  this  image,  of  whIcK 
more  in  the  notes  to  the  ninth  Lecture.    M. 

8  IsAi.  Ix.  19,  20.  •  IsAi.  xxiv.  23. 

'0  BxxK.  xxxiL  r,  8. 


lACT.  6.  THE  OBJECTS  OF  NATURE.  8S 

the  situation  and  nature  of  the  country,  much  better 
known  and  more  familiar  to  them.  There  is  no  meta- 
phor more  frequent  in  the  sacred  poems,  than  that  by 
which  sudden  and  great  calamities  are  expressed  under 
the  figure  of  a  deluge  of  waters.  This  metaphor  seems 
to  have  been  remarkably  familiar  to  the  Hebrews,  as  if 
directly  taken  from  the  nature  and  state  of  the  country. 
The  river  Jordan  was  immediately  before  their  eyes," 
which  annually  overflowed  its  banks ;  for  the  snows  of 
Lebanon  and  the  neighbouring  mountains  being  melted 
in  the  beginning  of  the  summer,  the  waters  of  the  river 
were  often  suddenly  augmented  by  the  torrents  which 
burst  forth  from  them.  The  whole  country  of  Pales- 
tine** indeed  was  watered  by  very  few  perennial  cur- 
rents ;  but  being  chiefly  mountainous,  was  exposed  to 
frequent  floods,  rushing  violently  along  the  valleys  and 
narrow  passages,  after  great  tempesjs  of  rain,  which  pe- 
riodically took  place  at  certain  seasons  :  and  on  this  ac- 
count Moses'^  himself  commends  to  the  Israelites  the 
country  which  they  were  about  to  invade,  as  being  to- 
tally different  from  every  thin^LJhey  had  experienced  in 
Egypt,  or  in  the  desert  of  AraHfe.  This  image,  there- 
fore, though  known  to  all  poets  and  adopted  by  most, 
may  be  accounted  peculiarly  familiar,  local  in  a  manner 
to  the  Hebrews,  and  of  consequence  we  cannot  wonder 
at  its  frequent  introduction  into  their  compositions.  The 
prophet  seems  to  have  depicted  the  face  of  nature  ex- 
actly as  it  appeared  to  him,  and  to  have  adapted  it  to  the 
figurative  description  of  his  own  situation,  when  from 
the  banks  of  Jordan,  and  the  mountains  at  the  head  of 
that  river,  he  pours  forth  the  tempestuous  violence  of 
his  sorrow  with  a  force  of  language  and  an  energy  of 
expression,  which  has  been  seldom  equalled  : 

1»  See  Sakiits's  Travel»,  B.  HI.  13  Deut.  vili.  T.  xl  10,  11, 

U  Josh.  iU.  US.     1.  Cbbok.  xii.  15.    Ecclus  xxlv.  26, 


y 


S4  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lbgt.6. 

<<  Deep  callcth  unto  deep»  in  the  voice  of  thy  cataracts» 
<<  All  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  have  gone  over  me."^^ 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  remark  in  this  place,  that 
though  this  metaphor  is  so  usual  in  all  the  other  sacred 
writers,  whenever  an  occasion  presents  itself  of  introdt»c- 
ing  it,  the  author  of  Job,  in  the  whole  of  that  poera, 
which  from  the  nature  of  the  subject  presented  excelle&t 
opportunities  of  employing  it,  has  not  more  than  twice,^ 
and  then  but  slightly,  made  the  least  allusion  to  it.  Na^* 
ture,  indeed,  presented  a  different  aspect  to  the  author^ 
whoever  he  was,  of  diat  most  noble  poem,  if,  as  many 
learned  men  conjecture,  it  was  composed  in  some  pari 
of  Arabia,  for  which,  I  confess,  diere  is  great  appearance 
of  argument,  from  that  famous  simile,^^  in  which  he  comn 
pares  his  friends  with  the  perfidious  brook ;  a  compari-r 
son  manifestly  taken  from  the  rocky  parts  of  Arabiag 
and  adorned  by  many  images  proper  to  that  region. 

Finally,  there  is  a  species  of  imagery  derived  also  from 
natural  objects,  altogether  peculiar  to  the  Hebrews.  A* 
mong  the  mountains  of  Palestine,  the  most  remarkable^ 
and  consequently  the  most  celebrated  in  the  sacred  poet- 
ry, are  Mount  Lebanon  and  Mount  CarmeL  The  one, 
remarkable  as  well  for  its  height  as  for  its  age,  magnitude, 
and  the  abimdance  of  the  cedars  which  adorned  its  sum- 
mit, exhibiting  a  striking  and  substantial  appearance  of 
strength  and  majesty.  The  other,  rich  and  fruitful,  a-^ 
bounding  with  vin^s,  olives,  and  delicious  fruits,  in  a 
most  flourishing  state  both  by  nature  and  cultivation, 
and  displaying  a  delightful  appearance  of  fertility,  beauty, 
and  grace,  The  different  form  and  aspect  of  these  two 
mountains  is  most  accurately  defined  by  Solomon,  whea 
he  compares  the  manly  dignity  with  Lebanon,*^  and  the 
beauty  and  delicacy  of  the  female  with  Carmel.    Each  oC 

14  PsAL.  xcii.  8.  "  Sec  Job  xxii.  11.  xxvii.  30. 

1«  Jo»  vi.  15—20.  ^y  Caht.  v.  15.  riL  Si, 


LxcT.  6»  THE  OBJECTS  OF  NATURE.  fts 

tfaem  suggeatsa  different  general  image,  which  the  Hebrew 
poets  adopt  for  difierent  purposes,  expressing  that  by  a 
metjqphor,  which  more  timid  writers  would  delineate  by 
a  direct  comparison.  Thus  Lebanon  is  used,  by  a  very 
bold  figure,  for  the  whole  people  of  the  Jews,  or  for  the 
state  of  the  church  ;^"  for  Jerusalem  ;**  for  the  temple  of 
Jerusalem  ;^  for  the  king  of  Assyria'^  even,  and  for  his 
army ;  for  whatever  in  a  word  is  remarkable,  august, 
and  subliooe  :^  and  in  the  same  manner  whatever  pos- 
sesses much  fertility,  wealth,  or  beauty,  is  called  Car- 
mel.^  Thus  too,  by  the  &t  rams,  heifers,  and  bulls  of 
Basan»^  by  the  wild  beast  of  the  reeds,^  or  lion  of  Jor« 

!•  IsAi.  zxziii.  9.  zxxv.  3.       ^'  Isi-f.  zxxvii.  24.      Jbb.  xxii.  6,  S3. 

»  Ztcm,  xi  1.    ^  Ibai.  X.  34.    •>  Uai.  xi.  13.    See  Ezbk.  xxxi. 

^  See  «8  above,  and  Ibai.  x.  18.    Mic.  vii.  14.    Jsm.  iv.  36. 

^  PsAi..  xxii.  13.    EzBK.  xxxix.  18.    Axob  ir.  1. 

»  PsAXM  bnriii.  31.  Chaiah  Xanehy  **  The  wild  beast  of  the  reeds/'  is  a 
periphrasis  for  **  the  lion  ;**  and  that  by  no  means  obscure,  if  we  bestow 
upon  it  a  little  attention.  The  lions  make  their  dens  very  commonly  among 
the  reeds.  **  Innumerable  lions  wander  about  among  the  reeds  and  copses 
*<  on  the  borders  of  the  rivers  in  Mesopotamia."  Ax.  Mar.  Lib.  xviii.  c.  T. 
Thi»  is  so  familiar  to  the  Arabs,  that  they  have  a  particular  name  for  the 
den  or  haunt  of  » lion,  when  it  is  formed  among-  the  reeds.  Bochabt.  Nie^ 
vox.  Par.  I.  Lib.  iii.  c.  2.  The  river  Jordan  was  particularly  infested  with 
lions,  which  concealed  themselves  among  the  thick  reeds  upon  the  banks. 
JoHAiT.  Phmas.  DeMCrip.  Loe.  Sanci,  c.  23.  See  also  Maujtorsl's  TraveU, 
Jkboxe  upon  these  words  of  Zbcbariar  xi.  3.  **  The  voice  of  the  roaring 
**  of  young  lions,  for  the  pride  of  Jordan  is  spoiled."  "  With  tlie  river 
**  Jordan  (says  he)  which  is  the  largest  in  Judea,  and  near  which  there  are 
**  many  lions,  the  prophet  associates  the  roaring  of  those  animals,  on  ac- 
■'  count  of  the  heat  of  the  climate,  the  vicinity  to  the  desert,  the  extent  of 
f*  that  vast  wilderness,  the  reeds  and  the  deep  sedge  which  grow  about  it" 
Hence  in  Jbr.  it.  7.  the  lion  is  said  to  go  forth  Me^tobechou  (from  his  thick- 
ct ;)  and  xlix.  19.  "  to  ascend  from  the  overflowing  of  Jordan."^In  this 
place,  therefore,  (PSAI.X  Ixviii.  31.)  the  wild  6ea»t  of  the  reeds,  the  herd  of 
the  itnm^,  and  the  eojiwt,  are  the  lions,  the  bulls,  and  the  beasts  wantor-i 
mg  about»  or  in  plain  terms,  the  fierce  and  insolent  tyrants  :  of  whom,  by 
a  continuation  of  the  metaphor,  the  prophet  adds,  "  each  of  them  eagerly" 
(for  there  is  that  force  in  the  distributive  in  the  singular  number,  and  in 
the  conjugation  Ilithpael)  "  ftriking  -with  their  feet,  and  disturbing  the 
Afo^r,  or  perbi^  deHrable^  riveve  ;"  that  is,  destroying,  and  laying  wast4^. 


86  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lect.  6. 

dan,  are  denoted  the  insolent  and  cruel  tyrants  of  the 
Gentiles.  In  this  and  other  imagery  of  the  same  kind, 
though  the  sacred  writers  presume  to  attempt  what  would 

the  pleasant  places  of  Judeau  This  very  image  is  addpted  by  Ezjikisl,  c. 
«xii.  2.  and  again  c.  xxxiv.  18,  19.  in  which  places  the  verb  rapfuu  thrice 
occurs  in  that  sense ;  see  also  Dav.  vii.  19.  But  whether  rutx  be  spoken 
of  the  motion  of  the  river,  as  in  the  Latin  currere  (ViRO.  Georg.  1.  132.) 
so  as  to  signify  the  river,  is  not  altogether  so  plain. 

"  This  word  CretuJ  seems  in  the  Arabic  to  convey  the  idea  of  water. 
**  For  there  is  a  verb  rux,  to  afford  plenty  o/  dritde  /  or  to  contain  otagnant 
**  -water,  ao  a  Jiah-pond,  or  valley  .*  and  the  noun  rutz,  a  quannty  of  water 
**  /yf  ny  in  the  bottom  of  a  lake,  or  cistern"     H. 

A  gentleman  of  great  learning  and  genius  has  furnished  me  with  another 
explication  of  this  passage,  which  perhaps  will  attract  the  attention  of  the 
learned  reader. 

This  learned  man  interprets  the  whole  verse  in  this  manner : — ^"Consume 
'<  the  vfild  beast  of  tlie  reed ;  the  multitude  of  those  who  are  strong  in  the 
**  calves  of  the  nations  ;  who  excite  themselves  with  fragments  of  silver : 
**  disperse  the  people  who  delight  in  war."  The  wild  beast  of  the  reed  is 
the  Hippopotamus,  which  lives  among  the  reeds  of  the  Nile :  under  this 
metaphor  the  people  of  Egypt  is  properly  delineated,  which  of  itself  opens 
the  way  to  the  explication  of  the  whole  verse.  For  the  Egyptians  are  in- 
deed alluded  to  through  tlic  whole  of  the  passage :  they  were  remarkable 
for  the  worship  of  calves,  and  tliat  of  Jm  and  ^pia  in  the  form  of  an  ox  ; 
and  for  their  religious  dances  before  tliese  idols  to  the  music  of  timbrels. 
The  Chaldce  runs  thus:  "  The  assembly  of  the  strong,  who  put  their  trust 
••  in  the  calf-idols  of  the  nations." — •«  Srong  in  the  calves  of  the  nations,'* 
is  a  phrase  analogous  to  tliat,  Eph.  vi.  10.  "  Be  strong'  in  the  Lord,"  and  is 
«n  Hebraism.  The  manner  of  dancing  in  the  worship  of  the  Egyptian 
idols,  is  confirmed  from  Exod.  xxxii.  6,  19.  also  both  it  and  the  use  of  the 
timbrel,  Hxnon.  Lib.  ii.  The  word  nnn  is  totally  different  from  Dfi*i,  which 
is  also  found  in  Pbov.  vi.  3.  where  the  Yolsath  renders  it  hasten  thee,  or 
better,  excite  thee,  since  it  is  in  Hithpael.  In  the  Chaldee  it  means  to  mii»- 
pic {  in  tlie  Syriac  to  dance i  in  the  Arabic  to  spuim,-  whence  in  this  place, 
"  excite  or  stimulate  themselves  to  dancing."  **  With  fragments  of  silver'* 
(so  literally ;)  that  is,  with  the  small  pieces  or  laminx  of  metal  round  the 
timbre],  which  produce  Uie  jingling  noise  when  the  instrument  is  beaten* 
Tlic  timbrel  was  formerly  a  warlike  instrument :  "  The  Queen  calls  forth 
*<  the  band  with  warlike  timbrels,"  Vijlb.  Whence  Pbopxrtius  also  oppo- 
ses the  Egyptian  timbi*el  to  the  Roman  trumpet  in  the  battle  of  Actium 
(Lib.  iii.  ix.  4f3.)  If  we  consider  it  in  this  light,  it  will  serve  much  to  clear 
up  what  follows  :  "  disperse  tlie  people  who  delight  in  war."  Thus  we 
have  not  only  a  clear  d&>cription  of  the  Eg^-ptians,  but  one  that  agrees  ad-» 
roirably  with  the  context :  "  princes  come  out  of  Egypt,"  &c. 

Author's  wVo/e, 


Ibct.  6.  THE  OBJECTS  OF  NATURE.  «T 

not^cjdlQWcd  in  the  Giwk  and^Latia-pocts,  yet  they 
cannot  be  accused  ^T  "an'y'3eficiency  in  perspicuity  or 
elegance,  especially  if  it  be  remembered  that  the  objects 
which  furnished  them  with  this  imagery  were  all  famil- 
iar,  or,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  indigenous 
to  the  Hebrews. 

In  a  word,  we  may  generally  remark  upon  this  head, 
that  all  poetry,  and  particularly  that  of  the  Hebrews, 
deduces  its  principal  ornaments  or  imagery  from  natur- 
al objects :  and  since  these  images  are  formed  in  the 
mind  of  each  writer,  and  expressed  conformably  to  what 
occurs  to  his  senses,  it  cannot  otherwise  happen,  but, 
that  through  diversity  of  situation,  some  will  be  more 
&miliar,  some  almost  peculiar  to  certain  nations  ;  and 
even  those  which  seem  most  general,  will  always  have 
some  latent  connexion  with  their  immediate  origin,  and 
with  their  native  soil.  It  is  the  first  duty  of  a  critic, 
therefore,  to  remark,  as  far  as  is  possible,  the  situation 
and  habits  of  the  author,  the  natural  history  of  his  coun- 
try, and  the  scene  of  the  poem.  Unless  we  continually 
attend  to  these  points,  we  shall  scarcely  be  able  to  judge 
with  any  degree  of  certainty  concerning  the  elegance  or 
propriety  of  the  sentiments  :  the  plainest  will  sometimes^ 
escape  our  observation ;  the  peculiar  and  interior  excel- 
lencies  will  remain  totally  concealed." 

M  We  must  not  omit  noticing  in  this  place,  those  images  which  are'  dc- 
rived  from  rivers  and  fountains,  and  the  earth  recreated  with  rain ;  which 
are  indeed  used  hj  our  poets,  hut  more  frequently  by  tiie  Orientals.  For 
the  scarcity  of  water,  and  the  extreme  heat  of  the  summer,  togetlier  with 
the  wonderful  fertility  of  the  soil,  when  watered,  render  this  a  more  ele- 
gant and  jocund  comparison  in  the  East  than  with  us.  In  spring  and  sum- 
mer, if  the  east  wind  continues  to  blow  a  few  days,  the  fields  are  in  gen- 
eral so  parched,  that  scarcely  a  blade  of  any  thing  green  remains  ;  many 
rivers  and  streams  are  dried  up,  the  others  are  rendered  briny,  and  all  na-- 
lure  seems  at  the  point  of  dissolution.  After  a  plentiful  shower,  however, 
the  fields  revive  beyond  all  ezpeistatioQ,.  the  rivers  resume  their  course. 


18  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lbct.  6« 

«id  the  springs  pour  forth  more  deUoious  ^ater.  BCahonet  nakep  use  «f 
this  idea  frequently,  as  figurative  of  the  resurrection ;  and  i^  thjp  he  sjieFJ 
himself  no  less  of  a  philosopher  than  a  poet  Dr.  Russel  has  described 
/  y  this  regeneration  of  nature  in  most  lively  colours  ki  his  J^tahtrol  Sutoty  «f 
Aleppo,  a  hook  which  every  man  ought  to  vead,  who  wishes  not  oidy  Utef> 
ally  to  understand  the  Oriental  writers,  but  to  feel  them.  Indeed,  for  want 
of  this,  many  similes  appear  to  us  bold  and  unusual,  which  among  the 
Orientals  have  a  proper  and  distinct  signification.  Caab,  an  Arabic  poet, 
who  was  contemporary  with  Mahomet,  in  one  of  his  poems  compares  the 
teeth  of  a  yoimg  lady  when  she  smiled  to  wine  wixed  with  water,  in  which 
remained  bubbles  of  yesterday's  rain.  In  Iswah  there  are  many  allusions 
of  this  nature,  the  favourable  or  adveme  state  >of  the  vations  being  fyeqwa^ 
ly  expressed  by  this  image,  which  many  commentators  have  attempted  to 
yyy  explain  with  more  exactness  than  jT  I^y^^Mto  will  frc^''  They  have 
JG&en  what  the  poet  meant  figuratively  sometimes  in  a  literd  sense ;  and 
at  other  times  they  have  explained  every  thing  in  a  mystical  manner,  and 
have  pretended  to  define  what  is  .meant  by  the  -mater ^  who  are  those  that 
are  thirtty,  &c.  &c.  intermingling  many  very  pious  reflexions,  but  utterly 
foreign  to  the  subject,  and  such  as  never  once  entesed  the  mind  of  the  po- 
et For  it  certainly  was  not  the  intention  of  the  prophet  to  write  en  jgm^i^ 
but  to  illustrate  and  adorn  the  beautiful  figure  which  he  introduces.  Thus, 
^.  XXXV.  6,  7,  speaking  of  the  happy  state  of  Palestine,  at  the  time  that 
Idumea  was  laid  waste  and  subdued : 

<'  The  desert,  and  the  waste,  shall  he  glad ; 

*'  And  the  wilderness  shall  rejoice  and  flourish  *. 

*'  For  in  the  wilderness  shall  burst  forth  waters, 

*'  And  torrents  in  the  desert : 

*<  And  the  glowing  sand  shall  become  a  ppol, 

**  And  the  thirsty  soil  bubbling  springs : 

''  And  in  the  haunt  of  dragons  shall  spring  forth 

*'  The  grass,  with  the  reed,  and  the  bulrush." 
It  is  however  to  be  remarked,  that  the  level  ground  suflfers  most  &om  the 
intolerable  heat,  and  that  the  deserts  are  almost  destitute  of  water.    He 
amplifies  the  same  image  in  a  different  manner  in  c.  xxxv.  17,  celebrating 
the  return  of  the  Israelites  from  the  Babylonian  exile : 

*'  The  poor  and  the  needy  seek  for  water,  and  there  is  none ; 

«•  Their  tong^ie  is  parched  with  thirst : 

"  I  Jehovah  will  answer  them ; 

**  The  God  of  Israel,  I  will  not  forsake  them. 

"  I  will  open  in  the  high  places  rivers  ; 

"  And  in  the  midst  of  valleys,  fountains  : 

"  I  will  make  the  desert  a  standing  pool ; 

*'  And  the  dry  ground  streams  of  waters. 

••  In  the  wilderness  I  will  give  the  cedar ; 

*'  The  acasia,  the  myrtle,  and  the  tree  producing  oil :. 

**  I  will  plant  the  fir-tree  in  the  desert. 


UcT.  6-  THE  OBJECTS  OF  «AtUttE.  d9 

^  The  pine  and  the  box  together." 
ThU  is  admirable  painting,  and  displays  a  most  happy  boldness  of  invcn* 
tlon  i  the  trees  of  difTerent  kmds  transplanted  from  their  native  soils  to 
frow  together  in  the  desert ;  the  fir-tree  and  the  pine,  which  are  indige^^ 
iMHis  to  Ijdiailon,  to  which  sno^  and  rain,  and  an  imMense  (l^u^ntitj  of 
HMMsture  seem  almost  essential;  the  olive,  which  is  the  native  of  Jenia^ 
lem ;  the  Egyptian  thorn,  indigenous  to  Arabia ;  both  of  them  requiring  a 
dry  soil ;  and  the  myrtle,  Which  flourishes  most  oU  the  sea-shore.  l^be 
same  image  occurs  c  xxxiii.  16—30,  but  placed  in  a  different  light  The 
poet  feigns  in  this  place,  that  the  wild  beasts  of  the  desert,  and  the  drag- 
ons themselves,  which  had  been  aMicted  With  thirst,  pour  fd^th  their  noc- 
turnal cries  in  thankfulness  to  God  (br  sending  rain  upon  the  desert  See 
also  c.  zzxiv.  3,  4.  Sometimes  in  the  district  of  Jerusalem,  which  by  na- 
ture is  a  very  dry  soil,  and  in  which  there  are  few  streams,  an  immense 
flood  is  seen  to  burst  forth,  and  with  irresistible  violence  fall  into  theliead 
flea,  so  that  its  water,  which  is  more  salt  than  that  of  any  other  sea,  ia 
rendered  sweet  Gihon  seems  to  have  afforded  the  basis  of  the  above  de- 
•criptien,  a  rivulet  which  proceeds  from  Sbn,  when  perhaps  some  uncom- 
mon flood  had  prodigiously  increased  it  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  David  was 
the  first  who  made  use  of  this  bold  figure,  but  with  such  a  degree  of  mod* 
eaty  as  becomes  the  author  who  first  introduced  it,  Psal.  zlvL  2—6.  I 
suspect  something  of  the  kind  indeed  tb  have  happened  about  the  time  of 
Ins  composing  that  Psalm,  fiv  it  is  usual  in  earthquakes  for  iome  streams 
to  be  entirely  drained,  while  others  overflow.  But  his  imitators,  in  their 
ardour  for  novelty,  have  gone  far  beyond  him.  Thus  Joel  intermingles 
With  tbb  figure  the  picture  of  the  golden  age,  c  iiL  18^ 
'*  The  mountains  shaE  drop'  down  new  wine, 
<<  And  the  hills  sh^  flow  with  milk, 
**  And  all  the  rivers  of  Judah  shall  flow  with  water, 
**  And  a  fountain  shall  flow  from  the  bousd  of  JelH>vi^ 
«  And  ahaU  water  live  ralley  of  ShittoD.''    m;. 


12 


LECTURE  VII. 

OF  POETIC  IMAGERY  FHOM  COMMOK  LIFE: 

Xiamples  of  tk^tifcial  5ttiag«ty'fpbm  eomrndtJ  fife— The  h&Bits  of'Mfe  ex- 
'timely  8irrt{)leifX6n^  the  He111^W9,.vli09e'pn^toipftl^hii^  wett 

agriculture  and  )>k9tut^gpe-^t1i6  di{;nlty  of  these  employments  ;  indllie 
splendour  of  the  ima]g^iy  which  U  1>0^roVed'fh>m  them :  'Threshing,  and 
the  threshing  instrUhients—^The  sublltnity  of  the  iihagery  whtchis  taken 
'from  faniUiar  olijects  reSolts  flfom  tl»tn^riety.  The  ix>etic  hdll  of  te 
Kelirevs  explained ;  Ihe'iiti'sgeky  of  which  ia  boitowed'fromtlieip  silh- 
terraneous  sepillchrcs'  ajfia  fdneral  cites. 

Xn  roy  last  Lecture  I  explained  three  causes,  wlucb 
'^IteVe  enabled  the  Hebfeirpoets  to  presence  fai  thrirfig- 
iirdtive  style  the  raost  perfect  union  betweeri  perspicuity 
and  sublimity.  1  remarked  in  the  first  place,  that  dwy 
chiefly  employed  images 'tak^n  from  finnili^ 'objects, 
such  I  mean  as  were  generally  ktidwti  arid  understood ; 
secondly,  that  in  the  use  or  application  of  them,  they  ob- 
served a  regurar  track,  metlKxl,  or  anatogy  ;  Md  lastly, 
that  they  used  most  freely  that  kind  of  inutgery  which 
was  most  familiar,  and  the  application  of  which  was 
most  generally  understood.  The  truth  of  these  obser- 
vations will  I  think  find  further  and  more  decisive  con^ 
firmation,  if  those  metaphors  be  considered,  which  are 
taken  from  arts,  manners^  and  common  life»  These,, 
you  will  easily  recollect,  I  before  pointed  out  as  another 
source  of  poetical  imagery  :  and  for  this  part  of  the  sub- 
ject a  few  general  observations  will  suffice,  with  an  ex- 
ample or  two  out  of  the  great  number  which  present 
themselves  in  the  sacred  writings.    The  whole  course 


a^d^iDetbo^  of  ooom^n.or  dpiqf^tic  life  among  t)ie  H^- 
brew^  of  tbp  more  ^qqiientt^oicf^  was  sii|i^^|^  ^nd  unifprmi 
iff  the  grfsatqst  d/tg^  Theft  eixisted  n^t  that  varkt|r 
of  atudlfs  aiK)  piKSM^  cf  arts,  cpnditiw^»  and  employ r. 
iDfrnl^i  wl^;  may  be^  observed  among  other  patiocis^^ 
yfho  bp9^  of  superior  civilization;  and  rightiy,  indeed^, 
if  luxury^.  Ipvity,  and  pride,  be  the  critf rions  of  it.  AU 
9J9y^^  the  s^e^qiial  liberty ;  all  of  theix)$  as  bein^  the 
^i^ri^  of' t^^pi|^4U)qbent  stocky  boasted  an  equality^ 
^  Uqeag^  s^d  r^fjlf ;  tsh^jC  ^i^re  no  epxj^y  titles,  no  eu,-^ 
>^gns  of  fi^ls^  f^pry  ;  sparcely  any  distipction  or  pre.ce.-. 
defMie  biU  t|uit^  u^ch  resulted  froip^sf^perior  virtue  or. 
<;9nduct,  froip  tj^e  dignity  of.  age  aiod  exjperiencet  or  from, 
services  rendered  ^9  their  countiy.  i^ps^rated  fi;om  tht; 
cesft  of  mankind  by  th^ir.  religion  and,  laws,  and  not  at  aU^ 

aWi,  ^iWfih,  wc?^.  W<?e«i^y  ^^.,  si*if  p)Ip  w^^  uucv^ltivalef)^ 
(ps  ra^hpB  mi?OFMB*^4)  ?tate  qf;  lifip.  Thjus  thqr,  pf^iR-j 
«ip4  ^i¥igIqy«neQ|a;^i?i^  ^gciqul^urf  a^d,  tj^  car^  of  921!.-. 
^i  %y.^P&*,P?ti«»  of  ^u^3i^m^p  aptl  ^bep|>?r4^^ 
The  lands  had  been  originally  parcelled  OHt  to  the  diff^^f^ 
fnt  lafnilies  •,  th^  portions  of  whicl^  (by  the  l^ws  of  the 
qount^fy)  cqijdd  n9jt,l;^  alienaited  b^y  s^^,*  apjd^  :tl}qr^i^^ 
^esc^nded  to  their  posterity  without  dwipu^ipn« .  l()f^^ 
fruits  of  ,tl|Q  ea^  ^  produo:  pf  hia  lan^  ^d^^^t 
^ons^iju^d  the  ^wealth  of  each  iq^d/vj^ju^  ^  ^oi^  evf;!)  tlj^ 
great^fift  apopg  t^m  este^nicd  if  njfiain;and  disgfaf^fjitf 
to  b|e,e|^plpy94.i>^.^he  lowest  offi^^^  of  r^Tal^^bo^c.  In 
^  ScripHjw  ^V^VX,  tjiereforq,  we,T?8|^  pf  ejnum^per* 
sons  called  to  the  highest  and  most  sacred  offices,  he- 
coes,  kingsi  and  prophets»  from  the{»laugh  andfroo»  the 
stalls.* 

1  Lky.  XXV.  13—16,  and  23,24..  Compare  1  luats  xxi.  3. 
«   See  JuD.  iil  31.  vL  11.     1.  Sam.  *ix.  3.  xl  5,'    2.  Sam.  vH.  J8.      PbaXj, 
Ixxriii»  72,  7X    1.  Kives  xix.  19,  20.    Amlqb  i.  1.  vii.  14, 15, 


as  POETIC  IMAGERY  PROM  L«ct.  f. 

Such  being  the  state  of  things,  wt  cannot  reasonably 
be  surprized  to  find  the  Hebrew  writers  deducing  most 
of  their  metaphors  from  those  arts  particularly,  in  which 
they  were  educated  from  th*ir  earfiest  years.  We  are 
not  to  wonder  that  those  objects  which  were  most  fe- 
rn iliar  to  their  senses  afforded  the  principal  ornaments 
of  their  poetry ;  especially  since  they  furnished  so  vari- 
ous and  so  elegant  an  assortment  of  materials,  that  not 
only  the  beautiful,  but  the  grand  and  magnificent  might 
hi  collected  from  them.  If  any  person  of  more  nicety 
than  judgenient  should  esteem  solhe  of  these  rustic  im*?' 
ages  groveling  or  vulgar,  it  may  be  of  some  use  to  lum 
to  be  Informed,  tilat  such  an  effect  can  only  result  from 
th^  ignorance  of  the  critic,  who,  through  the  medium 
61  his  scatit)^  information  and  peculiar  prejudices,  pre*» 
siinies  to  estimate  matters  of  the  most  remote  antiquity  ;* 
n  dannot  reasonably  be  attributed  as  an  error  to  the  sa- 
ct^d<  {ioets,  who  not  only  give  to  those  ideas  all  theif 
neural  force  and  dignity,  but  frequently  by  the  vivacity 
and  boldnesa  of  the  figure^  e^hibH  them  with  additional . 
vlgqilr,  ornairient,  and  beauty^ 

'It  wduld  be  a  tedious  task  to  instance  particularly  with 
nt^h^t^  embellishmehts  of  diction,  derived  from  one  low 
mdt  trivial  objetit, '  Tas  it  may  appear,  to  some)  the  barn, 
or  the  threshingi'-flobr^thr  sacred  writers  have  contrived 
tbaddaliiStretothlerMdst  subHme,  and  a  force  to  the 
hlbst'  impbitant  stittjddt^ :  Thus  •*  Jehovah  threshes 
*^H>ni  ihe  heathen  as  com,  tramples  them  under  his  feet^ 
'^  and ' dtspef  sld^  'thetm    He  delivers  the  nations,  to  Israel 

'  ^  Okie  iPdula  ilitiott^ii^  tbitt  tbit  keen  mn^vk  ^  proplwtically  levelU 
ed  at  a  late  critic  of  a  very  extraordinary  xast.  ft  was  a  little  unfortunate 
for  that  learned  g^entlemai^  that  these  lectures  were  not  traiulated  prerU 
0U6  to  the  publication  of  his  hook :  if  they  had,  he  certainly  would  neve^ 
)ia?e  laid  himself  open  t6  the  application  of  so  pointed  a  sturcaspi.,   X*. 


LscT.  7.  COMMON  LIFE.  91 

**  to  be  besleo  in  pieces  by  an  indcnfted  Bnl,^  or  to  be 
*^  crashed  by  their  brazen  hoofik    He  scatters  bis  ene* 
**  mies  like  chaff  upon  the  mountains/  and  disperses 
'*  them  with  the  whirlwind  of  his  indignation*"^ 
^  Behold  I  have  made  thee  a  threftUng  wain ; 
<*  A  new  com-drag  armed  with  pointed  teeth  s 
^  Thou  shah  thresh  the  mountainai  and  beat  them  small» 
«  And  reduce  the  hills  to  chaff. 

^  Thou  shah  wimiow  them,  and  the  whid  shall  bett  them  away } 
^  And  the  tempest  shall  scatter  them  abroad.'*' 

Of  these  quotations  it  b  to  be  remarked*  first»  that  the 
nature  of  this  metaphor»  and  the  mode  of  applying  it, 
are  constantly  and  cautiously  regarded  by  the  diffi:rent 
authors  of  the  sacred  poems ;  and  on  this  account,  not- 
withstanding the  boldness  of  it,  botlT  chastity  and  per- 
spicuity are  preserved :  since  they  app1y"it^soIely  to  ex- 
aggerate the  slaughter  and  dispersion  of  the  wicked* 
The  force  and  aptness  of  the  image  itself  in  illustrating 
the  subject,  will  also  afford  a  very  proper  and  ready  apol- 
ogy for  some  degree  of  freedom  in  the  application  of  it, 
particularly  if  we  advert  to  the  nature  and  method  of  this 
rustic  operation  in  Palestine,  It  was  performed  in  a 
high  situation  exposed  to  the  wind,  by  bruising  the  ear, 
either  by  driving  in  upon  the  sheaves  a  herd  of  cattle, 
or  else  by  an  instrument  constructed  of  large  planks,  and 
sharpened  underneath  with  stones  or  iron ;  and  some- 
times by  a  machine  in  the  form  of  a  cart,  with  iron 
wheels  or  axles  indented,  which  Varro  calls  jphcenicum^* 
as  being  brought  to  Italy  by  the  Carthaginians  from 
Phoenicia,  which  w^s  adjacent  to  Palestine.  From  this 
It  is  plain  (not  to  mention  that  the  descriptions  agree  in 
every  particular)  that  the  same  custom  was  common 

«Has.  ill.  13.    JosL&i.  14.    JsB.]i33.    IiAi.xzi.ia 

«  Mic.  IT.  13.  •  PtAUt  Ixxsiii.  14»  16.    Isax.  xvU*  IS^ 

7 IBAU  x)i.  15»  16^  •J)0M€  »ut{.  1.  S^ 


94^  POETie  Of  MOBK  ntOM  LsGT<  U 


bolhcCb  the  Hebrews  aad  Ae  Bbmant';  Md^et  I  d^odt^ 
reeoUecC  dial  the  latter  btow  tiwnwediany  of  Ask  po- 
edeal  imagery  from .  thas»  oecupatioD»  Vt  is  prsper^  ho v-> 
ever,  to  renMiiik,  tjiat  tlwuihiaep  wa&obvaoua  and^fiunii^ 
iar  to  the  Hebrews  in  a^  high  degree»,  as  we  kam  Uota 
what  is  said  of  the  tfareshingwfloor  of  Oman^  die  Jebuaite, 
which  was  situated  in  an  open  place  (as  were  alltfae  rest) 
in  Jerusalem  itself,  and  in  the  highest  part  of.  the  city, 
in  the  very  plaee,,  indeed,,  where  the  temple  q£  Siolowqa 
was  afterwards  erected. 

Homer,  who  was  uncon^monly  fond  of  everj;^  picture 
of  nival  life»  esteemed  that  under  our  con^deration  so 
beautiful  and  sigmficant,  that,  in  a  few  insitances,^  he 
draws  his  comparisons  from  the  threshUig^floor  (for  even 
he  was  fearful  of  the  boldness  of  t^b  image  in  the  fom 
of  a  metaphor.)  Two  of  these  comparison^  he  intro- 
duces to  illustrate  light  subjects,  contrary  to  the  practice, 
of  the  Hebrews ;  but  the  third  is  employed  upon  a  sub- 
ject truly  magnificent,  and  this,  as  it  approaches  in  some 
degree  the  sublimity  of  the  H^t^rew^  it  may  not  be  im- 
proper to  recite : 

«  As  with  automnal  harvests  covor'd  o*er, 

*<  And  thick  bestrown,  lies  Ceres*  sacred  floor, 

«  When  round  and  round,  with  neiwr-wearied  paib, 

<^  The  trampKng  steers  beat  out  th'  unnumber'd  grain  i 

^  So  the  fierce  coursers,  as  the  chariot  roU^ 

«<  Tread  down  whole  ranka,  and  crush  out  heroes'  souls.**  >  ^ 

This  comparison,  however,  though  deservedly  account* 
ed  one  of  the  grandest  and  most  beautiful  which  antiqui- 
ty has  transmitted  to  «s,  still  feUs  goeatly  short  of  tbn 
Hebrew  boldness  and  sublimity.  A  Hebrew  writet 
would  have  compered  the  hero  himself  .with  the  instru* 
ment,  and  not  his  horses  with  the  oxen  that  ase  harness- 

•  2  Chbow.  iii.  1. 

»0  Sec  Hiad  y.  &  xiii.  588.  "  Pors's  JUad  xx.  577. 


ed  to'it,'%lfidi49  rfcttKr  too  appMile,  «nd  itoo  exactly 
similar.^  But  custom  had  not  gifven  equal  licence  to 
the  Greek  poetry ;  this  image  had  not  been  equaUy  &• 
miliar,  had  not  occupied  the  same  place  as  with  the  He- 
brews ;  norili^cqutved  llietfianieilbrcecaiid laudiority 
by  long  prHfllptidn, 

I  bugfat  not  in  this  (Adceto  om&tlhat  supreimdy  mag- 
nificent delineadon  of  the  divine  vengeance,  expressed 
bylkra[gety t4k:eiif  frbm  the tiine:-press ;  an  image  whi6h 
very  ftbqaethly  occurarin  the  sacred  pofets,  but  which 
Mb  bdfef  pbttty  has  pre^Mddto  introduce.  But  itrhere 
^iaD  Mit^  tUiA  e^pre^ibns  6f  ifquki  digtiity  with  the  orig- 
inalinr  any  rnddfem' language?  By  what  art  of  the  pcfncil 
testn^WeeJtfhiblt  even'a  Shadow  or  m  buttine  bf  that  de- 
Irir^^on,  iA  t«4ik!h^  Isaiah  depicts  the  Messiah  as  coming 
to  vengeah6c?f** 

*  *^yfkp  i|Htlus'tM'Coii«Ui  iboni  Bdom  I 

«  Withgarnienta dcjeply 4ied from Botsra ^ 

<<  This  that  is  magnificent  in  his  apparel ; 
'^«<  Marching  on  in  the  -greatntsss  of  ius  stretjgth  ? 

'•9kn&s  wilVfac^(*i4re  fil%  «at»UtaedlMlilJkiet/xn. 

.  '•Ui8e^aiAi.'lti&/l«-3.  >Otar  mMior,»'m  4us  «xodlent  eMimiemary  «n 
U$i^  Mst»-v^4Qng  mi^  pi^Wng-^i^atet  Bomer  kvMd  intfrffctari  (I 
suppose  Jewisl\)  that  JuEas  Maccabeus,  could  not  be  the  subject  of  this 

^TCyphecy.  ^%'asSi£rtS  vexy  pfopsrly  that*  the  glorious»  but  fruitless»  effort 

.cfliieMsfaeabee0;ffra8noVaniewentiSJde4aiiUtos^ioft7  a  pvedietion :  ^ahd 
He' adds  another  «very  matecialxircuinstanoe,  which  Jie  presumes  endiely 
excludes  Judas  Maccaheus»  and  even  the  Idumeans  properly  so  csUed  i  for 

"IheidiiKiea  of^the^mypAief  s-  time'  was 'quite  a  different  country  Irom  that 
which  Judas  conquered.  To  the  question,  **  to  wkmudoes  it  then  apply  ?" 
lie  answers,  to  no  event  that  he  knows  of  in  history»  unless  perhaps  the  de-' 
stmction  of  Jerusalem  snd  the  Jewish  polity,  which  in  the  gospel  is  called 
the  coming  of  Christ,  and  the  days  of  vengeance.  He  adds,  however,  that 
there  are  prd^hecSes,Wiiich^iiftimste  agveat'sUnghterof  the  enemies  of 
God  and  his  people»  which  femaiik  to  be  Ailfilfed.-.these  inJUekielr«idin 
the  Revelation  are  called  Gog.andB|sg|)g,.|o4' possibly  .this  pcopheey  nay 
lefier  to  the  same  or  the  like  event    T. 


•'^ 


•$  POETIC  IMAOBRT  PROM  Lscr.  fi 

« I  who  p«bU»h  right90usDeM«^  ^  and  am  mightf  to  ihtc. 

M  Wherefore  is  thioe  apiwrc  1  red  ? 

<<  And  thy  garments,  as  one  that  treadeth  tbe  wine-vat  ? 

<<  I  have  trodden  the  yat  alone  ; 

^  And  of  the  peoples  there  was  not  a  man  with  me. 

^  And  I  trod  them  in  mine  anger ;  M^ 

«  And  I  trampled  on  them  in  mine  i«ttgp«|U ; 

^  And  their  life-blood  was  sprinkled  upon  mj  garments  i 

^  And  I  have  stained  all  my  apparel/^ 

But  the  instances  are  innumerable  which  might  be  ^uot» 
ed  of  metaphors  taken  from  the  manners  and  customs 
of  the  Hebrews.  One  general  remark»  however,  may 
be  made  upon  this  subject,  namely,  that  frooj^  one  sim- 
ple, regular,  and  natural  mode  of  life  haying  prevailed 
among  the  Hebrews,  it  has  arisen,  that  in  their  poetry 

.  '  these  metaphors  have  less  of  obscurity,  of  meanness  or 
depression,  than  could  be  expected,  when  we  consider 
the  antiquity  of  their  writings,  the  distance  of  the  scene, 
and  the  uncommon  boldness  and  vivacity  cS  their  rhet- 
oric. Indeed,  to  have  made  use  of  the  boldest  imagery 
with  the  most  perfect  perspicuity,  and  the  most  com« 

,^  y  mon  and  familiar  with  the  greatest  dignity,  is  a  com* 
mendation  almost  peculiar  to  the  sacred  poets.  I  shall 
not  hesitate  to  produce  an  example  of  thb  kind,  in  which 
the  meanness  of  the  image  is  fully  equalled  by  the  plain- 
ness and  inelegance  of  the  expression ;  and  yet  such  is 
its  consistency,  such  the  propriety  of  its  applicalioD, 
that  I  do  not  scruple  to  pronounce  it  sublime.  The 
Almighty  threatens  the  ultimate  destruction  of  Jerusa- 
leinjn  these  terms : 

'      <<  And  I  will  wipe  Jerusalem, 

<<  As  a  man  wipeth  a  dish  : 
L^    *<  He  wipeth  it,  and  tumetb  it  upude  down."i» 

14  In  one  msniucript  tfaii  word  stands»  **  the  Announcer  of  rif^hteons- 
iiess."    See  bishop  Lowtr's  AViet  on  Igaiah* 

»  2  KivM  z%l  IX    This  Is  the  answer  of  some  prophet  as  rdUted  hy 
(he  historian. 


Lbct.  r.  COMMON  LIFE.  9/ 

But  nmny  of  these  imi^ies  must  fakdy  appear  mean 
and  obscure  to  us,  who  differ  so  materially  from  the  He- 
brews in  our  manners  and  customs  :  but  in  such  cases 
it  is  our  duty  neither  too  rashly  to  blame,  nor  too  sud<* 
denly  to  despair.  The  mind  should  rather  exert  itself 
to  discover,  if  possible,  the  connection  between  the  lit- 
eral and  the  figurative  meanings,  which,  in  abstruse  sub* 
jects,  frequently  depending  upon  some  very  delicate  and 
nice  relation,  eludes  our  penetration.  An  obsolete  cus- 
tom, for  instance,  or  s6me  forgotten  circumstance,  op^ 
portuncly  adverted  to,  will  sometimes  restore  its  true 
perspicuity  and  credit  to  a  very  intricate  passage» 
Whether  the  instance  I  have  at  present  in  view  may 
prove  of  any  utility  or  not  in  thb  respect,  I  will  not  pre- 
sume to  say ;  it  may  possibly,  however,  serve  to  illus<^ 
trate  ^ill  further  the  nature  of  the  Hebrew  imagery,  and 
^  accuracy  of  their  poet^  in  the  application  of  it. 

Either  through  choice  or  necessity,  the  infernal  re* 
gtons  and  the  state  of  the  dead  has  been  a  very  common 
topic  with  the  poets  of  every  nation ;  and  this  difficult 
subject,  which  the  most  vigorous  understanding  is  un*  ^  > 
able  to  fethom  by  any  exertion  of  reason,  and  of  which  -^  y 
conjecture  itself  can  scarcely  form  any  adequate  idea, 
they  have  ornamented  with  all  the  splendour  of  descrip- 
tion, as  one  of  the  most  important  themes  which  could 
engage  the  human  imagination.  Thus  the  prompt  and 
fertile  genius  of  the  Greeks,  naturally  adapted  to  the 
bbulous,**  has  eagerly  embraced  the  opportunity  to  in- 

^  I  fear  our  author»  who  is  not  a  little  indebted  to  the  Greeks,  is  rather 
unjustly  severe  upon  them  in  this  passage.  The  infernal  regions  of  the 
Greeks,  which  probably  they  borrowed  from  the  Egyptians,  I  have  little 
doubt  flowed  from  the  very  same  source,  and  the  seat  of  the  soul  was  sup- 
posed to  be  under  the  earth,  because  the  body  was  deposited  there.  Neither 
can  it  be  denied  that  the  Hebrew  poets  also  feigned  a  sort  of  society  or  civil 
commoBity  of  the  departed  souls,  which  without  a  doubt  was  utterly  fabu^ 

13 


100  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lkct.  7. 

kings.  One  of  these  is  in  Jerusalem,  and  contains 
twenty.four  cells;  the  other,  containing  twice  that  num- 
ber, is  in  a  place  without  the  city. 

the  sepulchre  itself  raifov  or  ftnfut;  and  the  chambers,  into  many  of  which 
the  sepulchre  was  diTided,  oimk  tvt  «*  rf  fem/u^i ;  the  cells  ftwuic*  ^^nHq. 
viL  15.  zv.  7.  Bell  I.  3.  The  sepulchres  of  the  Egyptian  monaichs  are  des- 
cribed by  STaABo,  Lib.  xviL  **  About  forty  cells  are  cut  in  the  Caves.**  Of 
the  remains  of  which  see  a  description,  Pocock's  De*cripHon  o/  the  Etut, 
B.  ii.  c«  3*  There  are  still  remaining  at  Naples  certain  sepulchral  vaults 
called  Catactnb$,  which  have  not  been  exceeded  In  grandeur  by  any  similar 
work  of  man.  They  appear  to  me,  indeed,  to  be  a  monument  of  the  most 
lemote  antiquity,  which,  though  originally  appropriated  to  some  other  use, 
about  the  Christian  xra  were  made  use  of  as  burial-places.  They  are  evi- 
dently of  the  same  kind  with  other  subterraneous  works  of  that  country, 
many  of  which  have  been  destroyed  1^  ^arthqual^,  but  niany  lemain  at 
this  day  a^  Cumap,  Misenum,  Baiae,  the  lake  of  Avemo,  and  mount  Iposilypo. 
I  have  no  doubt  but  that  these  works  were  antecedent  to  the  time  of  Ho- 
mer, who  describes  them  as  inhabited  by  the  Cimmerians,  a  people  w4io  live 
in  perpetual  darkness,  0<hf99.  ix.  sub  init.  as  Ephorus  in  Stkabo,  Lib.  5. 
says  of  them,  *'  that  they  live  in  certain  subterraneous  dwellings,  which 
*'  they  call  JirgiUa»,  and  associate  with  one  another  by  narrow  fosses  or 
^  passages ;"  and  the  remaining  monuments  demonstrate  this  account  not 
to  be  altogether  fabulous.  These  caves  are  called  ArgUlat,  from  the  na- 
ture of  the  soil  in  which  I  brieve  they  are  usually  dug.  **  Jlrgil^  or  that 
**  kind  of  earth  which  is  used  for  cleansing,  is  white  clay,**  Hasvca.  whence 
a  hill  between  Puteoli  and  Naples  was  called  Leucogmwt  Puv.  Abi.  Bijd^ 
yiii.  11.  although  those  mentioned  above  are  all  hewn  out  of  the  solid  grit, 
in  order  to  resist  the  injuries  of  time.  Hence  ArgiUtum,  the  name  of  a 
street  in  Rome,  taken  from  some  Argil  of  this  kind,  such  as  formed  the  cave 
of  Cacus,  which  .was  not  far  from  that  streets  thou£^  Virgil  does  not  fof 
vour  this  opinion  ;  see  however  Varro  De  Ling.  Lot,  Lib.  iv.  It  is  evident 
that  Homer  first,  and  Virgil  after  him,  derived  their  notions  of  the  infer- 
nal regions  from  these  Cimmerian  caves  of  Campania ;  and  when  Virgil  la 
describing  the  pave  of  Cacus,  when  forced  open  by  Hercules,  the  image  of 
the  infernal  state  immediately  occurs : 

''  The  court  of  Cacus  stands  reveal'd  to  sight, 

**  The  cavern  glares  with  new-admitted  light, 

*'  So  the  pent  vapours  with  a  rumbUng  sound 

**  Heave  from  below,  and  rend  the  hoUow  ground: 

'*  A  sounding  flaw  succeeds  :  and  from  on  high, 

*<  The  gods  with  hate  beheld  the  nether  sky : 

«  The  ghosts  repine  at  violated  right ; 

^^  ^nd  curse  th'  invading  sun ;  and  sicken  at  the  sight.** 
Dbtds^'s  Virg.  JEn.  viiL  321. 

Atah9i^9  JVWa. 


LmcT.  7.  COMMON  LIFE.  10) 

If,  therefore,  we  examine  all  those  passages,  in  which 
the  sacred  writers  have  poetically  described  the  infernal 
legions,  we  may,  if  I  mistake  not,  clearly  perceive  them 
intent  upon  this  gloomy  picture,  which  their  mode  of 
sepulture  presented  to  their  view.  That  which  struck 
their  senses  they  delineated  in  their  descriptions :  we 
there  find  no  exact  account;  no  explicit  mention  of  im- 
mortal spirits;  not,  according  to  the  notion  of  some 
learned  persons,**  because  they  disbelieved  in  the  exist- 
ence of  the  soul  after  death,  but  because  they  had  no 
clear  idea  or  perception  by  which  they  might  explain 
where  or  in  what  manner  it  existed  ;  and  they  were  not 
possessed  of  that  subtilty  of  language,  which  enables 
men  to  speak  with  plausibility  on  subjects  abstruse,  and 
remote  from  the  apprehension  of  the  senses,  and  to  cov- 
er their  ignorance  with  learned  disputation.  The  con- 
dition, the  form,  the  habitation  of  departed  spirits  were 
therefore  concealed  from  the  Hebrews  equally  with  the 
rest  of  mankind.  Nor  did  revelation  afford  them  the 
smallest  assistance  on  this  subject ;  not,  perhaps,  be- ' 
cause  the  divine  providence  was  disposed  to  withhold 
this  information  from  them,  but  because  the  present  con- 
dition of  the  human  mind  renders  it  incapable  of  recgiv- 
ingit.  For  when  the  understanding  contemplates  things 
distinct  from  body  and  matter,  from  the  want  of  just 
ideas,  it  is  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  such  as  are 
false  and  fictitious,  and  to  delineate  the  incorporeal^ world 
by  things  corporeal  and  terrestriaU  Thus,  observing 
that  after  death  the  body  returned  to  the  earth,  and  that 
it  was  deposited  in  a  sepulchre,  after  the  manner  which 
has  just  been  described,  a  sort  of  popular  notion  prevail- 
ed among  the  Hebrews,  as  well  as  among  other  nations, 

M  See  III  CuBC  Comment.  Ea^ographa :  conftult  the  index  for  the  worc^ 
pttm9r$aUta9. 


/ 


102  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lkct.  7. 

that  the  life  which  succeeded  the  present  was  to  be  pass- 
ed beneath  the  earth :  and  to  this  notion  even  the  sacred 
prophets  were  obliged  to  allude  occasionally,  if  thqy 
wished  to  be  understood  by  the  people  on  this  subject. 

Hence  the  meaning  is  evident,  when  the  deceased  are 
said  to  ^*  descend  into  the  pit/^  to  the  nether  parts  of 
**  the  earth,  to  the  gates  and  chambers  of  death,  to  the 
**  gates  and  chambers  of  death,  to  the  stony  places,  to 
^*  the  sides,  to  the  gates  of  the  caverns ;"  when  it  is 
said,  *'  that  the  grave  has  swallowed  them  up,  and  closed 
"  its  mouth  upon  them  ;"**  that  "  they  lie  down  in  the 
^*  deep  ;^  immersed  in  a  desert  place,  in  the  gulf,  in 
'*  thick  darkness,  in  the  land  of  darkness  and  the  shadow 
^*  of  death,  wild,  hideous,  where  all  is  disorder  and 
'*  darkness :  and  darkness,  as  it  were,  instead  of  light 
**  diffuseth  its  beams."" 

The  poets  of  other  nations,  amidst  all  their  fictions, 
have  yet  retained  a  congenial  picture  of  the  habitations 
of  the  dead :  Thus  the  tragic  poet  has  admirably  de* 
scribed  the  deep  course  of  Acheron ; 

«  Thro*  dreary  caves  cut  in  the  rugged  rock, 

"  Where  reigns  the  darkness  of  perpetual  hell.***' 

But  how  grand  and  magnificent  a  scene  is  depicted  by 
the  Hebrew  poets  from  the  same  materials,  in  which 
their  deceased  heroes  and  kings  are  seen  tp  aidvance 

SI  nrWf  aUo  *ra,  or  nwa,  Jok.  xxxUi.  16.  Pial.  xktlij.  1.  &  piusilM. 
n^nn  pK,  or  nrnnn  nn»  Ebsk.  xxxi.  U.  ixxli.  18.  &  PUin  passim,  "^f^ 
bMW  Ibai.  xxxviii.  10.  npsf  mD>  Job.  xxxviii.  17.  Psal.  ix.  14.  niD  '*ym» 
Prov.  vii.  27.  "TO  *3aic,  Isai.  xiv.  19.  "Jta  *n3T,  IsAi.  xiv,  15.  E»kk.  xxxil. 
23.  Vmv  na.  Job.  xyu.  16. 

ss  Vucv "»,  PsAL.  cxlL  7.    Mca  %  Pmi-  Ixix.  16.     Bee  also  Isaj.  v.  14. 

33  nbtSQ,  PsAL.  Ixix.  16.  Ixxxviii.  7.    niann,  Job  iU.  14.£zes.  xxvL  20. 

«*  I  remember,  tliougii  I  cannot  refer  to  tlie  pMiagei  some  Arabian 
vriter  considers  the  nocturnal  darkness  as  an  emanation  from  an  opadue 
body,  just  as  the  light  of  day  proceeds  from  the  sun.    S.  H. 

«  Cic.  Tu8c.  Qu4e9t,  I. 


LacT.  7.  COMMON  LIFE.  103 

from  the  earth !  Figure  to  yourselves  a  vast,  dreary, 
dark,  sepulchral  cavern,^  where  the  kings  of  the  nations 
lie,  each  upon  his  bed  of  dust,^  the  arms  of  each  beside 
him,  his  sword  under  his  head,**  and  the  graves  of  their 
numerous  hosts  round  about  them  :^  Behold !  the  king 
of  Babylon  is  introduced,  they  all  rise  and  go  forth  to 
meet  him ;  and  receive  him  as  he  approaches !  **  Art 
*'  thou  also  come  down  unto  us?  Art  thou  become  like 
**  unto  us  f  Art  thou  cut  down  and  withered  in  thjr 
^strength,  O  thou  destroyer  oi  the  nations  !"-— But  I 
reluctantly  refrain. — It  is  not  for  me,  nor  indeed  for 
human  ability,  to  explain  these  subjects  with  a  becom- 
ing  dignity.  You  will  see  this  transcendent  imagery, 
yourselves,  better  and  more  completely  displayed  in  tl^ 
triumphal  song,  which  was  composed  by  Isaiah^  (the 
first  of  all  poets  for  sublimity  and  elegance)  previous  to 
tbt  death  of  the  king  of  Babylon.  EzekieF^  also  has 
9obly  illustrated  the  same  scene,  with  similar  machinery, 
in  the  last  prophecy  concerning  the  fall  of  Pharaoh ; 
that  remarkable  example  of  the  terrific,  which  is  indeed 
deservedly  accounted  the  peculiar  excellence  of  this 
prophet, 

»  Jbai.  xIt.  9»  18.    E»K.  xyxii.  19,  31,  &c. 

S7  aavD  Ibai.  Wiv  3.    E«sk.  xxxiL  35.  i  ^vm»  the  cell  vhich  receives  the 
mcopfaagut.  V 

«  £i»,  xjuui.  37.    S«elMACQ*xiiLS9.      s»  Bus.  zjoiL  33, 3d,  34 
» iMj^r  «It*  4^37.  »  Esjix.  zxzii  18-33. 


\ 


LECTURE  \T[II. 

OF  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  SACRED  TOPTCS. 

Xtoagery,  which  is  borrowed  from  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  reUgion,  pe- 
culiarly liable  to  obscurity  and  mistake— Instances  of  expressions»  which 
appear  uncommonly  harsh ;  and  of  others,  the  principal  elegance  of 
which  would  be  lost,  unless  we  adverted  to  the  nature  of  the  sacred 
rites— The  exordium  of  the  hundred  and  fourth  psalm  explained. 

XR£  present  disquisition  concerning  the  poetical  im- 
agery of  the  Hebrews  was  undertaken,  gendemen,  prin- 
cipally with  a  view  of  guarding  you  against  an  error, 
which  is  apt  to  mislead  those  who  peruse  without  suffi- 
cient attention  and  information  writings  of  so  old  a  date ; 
namely,  that  of  accounting  vulgar,  mean,  or  obscure, 
passages  which  were  probably  accounted  among  the 
most  perspicuous  and  sublime  by  the  people  to  whom 
they  were  addressed.  Now,  if  with  respect  even  to  that 
imagery,  which  is  borrowed  from  objects  of  nature,  and  of 
common  life,  (of  which  we  have  just  been  treating)  such 
a  caution  was  proper,  it  will  surely  be  still  more  neces- 
sary with  respect  to  that  which  is  borrowed  from  the  sa- 
cred mysteries  of  religion.  For  though  much  of  that 
imagery  which  was  taken  by  the  Hebrew  writers  from 
the  general  face  of  nature,  or  from  the  customs  of  com- 
mon life,  was  peculiar  to  their  own  country,  yet  much, 
it  must  be  confessed,  was  equally  familiar  to  the  rest  of 
the  world ;  but  that,  which  was  suggested  by  the  rites 
and  ceremonies  of  religion,  was  altogether  peculiar  to 
themselves,  and  was  but  little  known  beyond  the  limits 


/ 


Lbgt.  8.  P0£TIC  IMAGERY,  fcc.  104 

Judea*  Since,  therefore,  thb  topic  in  particular  seems 
to  involve  many  such  difficulties  and  inconveniences,  it 
appears  to  me  deserving  of  a  serious  investigation  ;  and 
such  investigation,  I  flatter  myself,  will  tend  to  restore 
in  some  degree  the  real  majesty  of  the  Hebrew  poetry» 
which  seems  to  have  shone  forth  in  former  times  with 
no  ordinary  splendour. 

The  rdi^on  of  the  Hebrews  embraced  a  veiy  cxtca* 
sive  circle  of  divine  and  human  economy*  It  not  only 
included  all  that  regarded  the  worship  of  God ;  it  ex- 
tended even  to  tlie  regulation  of  the  commonwealth,  the 
ratification  of  the  ]$sat9,  the  forms  and  administration  of  y 
justice,  and  almost  all  the  relations  of  civil  and  domestic 
life.  With  them  almost  every  point  of  conduct  was 
connected  either  directly  or  indirectly  with  their  rdig^ 
ion.  Things  which  were  held  least  in  esteem  by  other 
nations,  bore  among  them  the  sanction  of  divine  author- 
i^,  and  had  a  very  close  alliance  with  both  the  more  se- 
rious concerns  of  life  and  the  sacred  ceremonies.  On 
these  accounts  it  happens  in  the  first  place,  that  abynd,- 
ance  of  metaphors  occur  in  the  Hebrew  poetry  deduc- 
ed firom  sacred  subjects ;  and  further,  that  there  is  a  ne- 
eessity  for  the  most  diligent  observation,  lest  that  very 
eonnection  with  the  a&irs  of  religion  should  escape  us. 
For  should  we  be  mistaken  in  sq  material  a  point; 
should  we  erroneously  account  as  common  or  profane 
what  is  in  its  nature  divine ;  or  should  we  rank  among 
the  mean  and  the  vulgar,  sentiments  and  images  which 
are  sacred  and  sublime ;  it  is  incredible  how  much  the 
strength  of  the  language,  and  the  force  and  majesty  of 
the  ideas,  will  be  destroyed.  Nothing  in  nature,  in- 
deed, can  be  so  conducive  to  the  sublime,  as  those  con* 
ceptions  which  are  suggested  by  the  contemplation  of 

14 


/,• 


106  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lect.  8. 

Ac  greatest  of  all  bein^ ;  and  when  the  august  form  of 
ReKgion  presents  itself  to  the  mental  eye, 

A  fervent  pleasure,  and  an  awe  divine 
Seizes  the  soul,  and  lift»  h  to  its  God. 

It  follows  therefore  of  course,  that  the  dignity  of  the  He- 
brew  poetry  must  in  some  measure  be  diminished  ia 
our  eyes,  since  not  only  the  connection  of  the  imagery 
with  sacred  things  must  JFrequently  escape  our  observa- 
£km,  but  even  when  it  is  most  apparent,  it  can  scarcely 
strike  us  with  that  force  and  vivacity  with  which  it  must 
have  penetrated  die  minds  of  the  Hebrews.  The  whole 
system  of  the  Hebrew  rites  is  one  great  and  complicated 
allegory,  to  the  study  and  observance  of  which  all  pos- 
sible diligence  and  attention  were  incessantly  dedicated 
by  those  who  were  employed  in  the  sacred  offices.  Oh 
diis  occt^pation  and  study,  therefore,  all  good  and  con- 
siderate men  were  intent ;  it  constituted  all  their  busi- 
ness, all  their  amusenierit ;  it  was  their  treasure  and  their 
hope ;  on  this  every  care  and  every  thought  was  em- 
ployed ;  and  the  utmost  sanctity  and  reverence  distin- 
guished every  part  of  their  conduct  which  had  any  rela* 
tion  to  it.  Much  dignity  and  sublimity  must  also  have 
resulted  from  the  recollection,  which  these  allusions  pro- 
duced, of  the  splendour  and  magnificence  x)f  the  sacred 
ntes  themselves ;  the  force  of  which  upon  the  minds  of 
those  who  hud  frequent  opportunities  of  observing  them 
must  have  been  incredibte.  Such  a  solemn  grandeur 
attended  these  rites,  especially  after  the  building  of  Sol- 
omoft's  temple,  that  although  we  arc  possessed  of  very 
accurate  descriptions,  our  imaginations  are  still  utterly 
unable  to  embody  them.  Many  allusions,  therefore,  of 
this  kind,  which  the  Hebrtew  poets  found  particularly 
energetic,  and  highly  popular  among  their  countrymen, 
may  possibly  appear  to  us  mean  and  contemptible ;  since 


LsGT.  8.  SACRED  TOPICS.  107 

many  things  which  were  held  by  them  in  the  highest 
veneration,  are  by  us  but  little  regarded,  or  perhaps  but 
little  understood. 

I  shall  subjoin  a  few  examples  of  what  I  have  just 
been  remarking ;  or  rather  I  shall  point  out  a  few  topics» 
which  will  of  themselves  suggest  a  variety  of  examples. 

Much  of  the  Jewish  Jiaw  is  employed  in  discriminate 
big  between  things  clean  and  unclean ;  in  removing, 
and  making,  atonement  for  things  polluted  or  prescribed: 
and  under  these  ceremonies,  as  under  a  veil  or  cover- 
ing, a  meaning  the  most  important  and  sacred  is  con- 
cealed, as  would  be  apparent  from  the  nature  of  them, 
even  if  we  had  not  besides,  other  clear  and  explicit  au- 
thority for  this  opinion.  Among  the  rest  are  certain 
diseases  and  infirmities  of  the  body,  and  some  customs 
evidently  in  themselves  indifferent :  these,  on  a  cursory 
view,  seem  light  and  trivial ;  but  when  the  reasons  of 
them  are  properly  explored,  they  are  found  to  be  of 
considerable  importance.  We  are  not  to  wonder,  there* 
fore,  if  the  sacred  poets  sometimes  have  recourse  to 
these  topics  for  imagery,  even  on  the  most  momentous 
occasions,  when  they  display  the  general  depravity  in- 
herent in  the  human  mind,^  or  exprobrate  the  corrupt 
manners  of  their  own  people,'  or  when  they  deplore  the 
abject  state  of  the  virgin,  the  daughter  of  Sion,  polluted 
and  exposed.'  If  we  consider  these  metaphors  without 
any  reference  to  the  religion  of  their  authors,  they  will 
doubtless  appear  in  some  degree  disgusting  and  inele- 
gant ;  if  we  refer  them  to  their  genuine  source,  to  the 
peculiar  rites  of  the  Hebrews,  they,  will  be  found  want- 
ing neither  in  force  nor  in  dignity.  Of  the  same  na- 
ture, or  at  least  analogous  to  them,  are  those  ardent  ex- 

» iB-ii.  Ixiv.  6.  •  IsAi,  i.  5,  6,  16.    Exnc.  xxxti,  17, 

3  Lax.  I  8,  9, 17.  and  il  2. 


10«  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  L«ct.  8. 

pressions  of  grief  and  misery,  which  are  poured  forth 
by  the  roysd  prophet  (who,  indeed,  in  many  of  those 
divine  compositions  personates  a  character  &r  more  ex» 
alted  than  his  own ;)  especially  when  he  complains,  that 
he  is  wasted  and  consumed  with  the  loathsomeness  of 
disease,  and  bowed  down  and  depressed  with  a  burden 
of  sin  too  heavy  for  human  nature  to  sustain/  On 
reading  these  passages,  some,  who  were  but  litde  ac» 
cjuainted  with  the  genius  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  have 
pretended  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  the  disease  widi 
which  the  poet  was  affected ;  not  less  absurdly,  in  my 
opinion,  than  if  they  had  perplexed  themselves  to  dis^ 
cover  in  what  river  he  was  plunged,  when  he  complains 
th^t  **  the  deep  waters  had  gone  over  his  soul.*' 

But  a$  there  are  many  passages  in  the  Hebrew  poets, 
which  mdy  se(m  to  require  a  similar  defence,  so  thero 
are  in  all  probability  many,  which,  although  they  now 
appear  to  abound  in  beauties  and  elegancies,  would  yet 
be  thought  much  more  sublime,  were  they  illustrated 
from  those  sacred  rites  to  which  they  allude ;  and,  as 
excellent  pictures,  viewed  in  their  proper  light.  To 
this  purpose  many  instances  might  be  produced  from 
one  topic,  namely,  from  the  precious  and  ifiagnlftcent 
ornaments  of  the  priest's  attire.  Such  was  the  grace* 
fulness,  such  the  magnificence  of  the  sacerdotal  vest- 
ments, especially  those  of  the  high-priest ;  so  adapted 
were  they,  as  Moses  says,'  to  the  expression  of  glory 
and  of  beauty,  that  to  those,  who  were  impressed  with 
an  equ(il  opinion  of  the  sanctity  of  the  wearer,  nothing 
could  possibly  appear  more  venerable  and  sublime.  Tq 
these,  therefore,  we  find  frequent  allusions  in  the  He- 
brew poets,  when  they  have  occasion  to  describe  extra* 
ordinary  beauty  or  comeliness,  or  to  deluieate  the  per* 

i  Sec  f  SAL.  jjuviii.  '  Exoo.  xxviii.  2.    See  ficcLci.  \,  5— 13.j 


LscT.t.  SACRED  TOPICS.  lOf 

feet  form  of  supreme  Majesty.  The  elegant  Isaiah*  has 
a  most  beautiful  idea  of  this  kind,  when  he  describes  in 
his  own  peculiar  manner  (that  is,  most*  magnificently) 
the  exultation  and  glory  of  the  church,  after  its  triumph* 
al  restoration.  Pursuing  the  allusion,  he  decorates 
her  with  the  vestments  of  salvation,  and  clothes  her  in 
the  robe  of  righteousness.  He  afterwards  compares 
die  church  to  a  bridegroom  dressed  for  the  marriage,  to 
which  comparison  incredible  dignity  is  added  by  the 
word  Ikohen^  a  metaphor  plainly  taken  from  the  apparel 
of  the  priests,  die  fcH'ce  of  which,  therefore,  no  modem 
langu£^  can  express.  No  imagery,  indeed,  which  the 
Hebrew  writers  could  em^oy,  was  equally  adapted  with 
diis  to  the  display  (as  far  as  the  human  powers  can  con- 
ceive or  depict  the  subject)  of  the  infinite  majesty  of 
God.  **Jehovab"  is  therefore  introduced  by  the 
Psalmist,  as  ^*  clothed  with  glory  and  with  strength,**^ 
he  is  ^*  girded  with  power  ;***  which  are  die  very  terms 
appropriated  to  the  describing  of  the  dress  and  orna- 
ments  of  the  priests. 

Thus  bx  may  appear  plain  and  indisputable ; .  but,  if 
I  mistake  not,  there  are  other  passages,  the  beauty  <X 
which  Ues  still  more  remote  from  common  observation.  / 
In  dmt  most  perfect  ode,  which  celebrates  the  immen. 
81^  of  the  Omnipresent  Deity,  and  the  wisdom  of  the 
^vine  Artificer  in  forming  the  human  body,  the  author 
uses  a  metaphor  derived  from  the  most  subtile  art  of  the 
Phrygian  workman : 

^  When  I  was  formed  in  the  secret  place, 

«  When  I  was  wrought  with  a  needle  in  the  depths  of  the  earth."* 

Whoever  observes  this,  (in  truth  he  will  not  be  able  to 
observe  it  in  the  common  translations)  and  at  the  same 

«  IiAj,  Ui.  XO.  ^  Pbal.  xcUL  1. 

•  PiiAi.lxT.  7,  •  PsAUi  cxxxix.  15. 


110  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Uot.S. 

time  reflects  upon  the  wopderftil  mechanism  of  the  hu« 
man  body,  the  various  implicatioDs  of  t^e  veins»  arteries, 
fibres,  and  membranes;   the  ** undescribable  texture** 
of  the  whole  fabric ;    may.  indeed,  feel  the  beauty  and 
gracefulness  of  this  well-adapted  metaphor^  but  will  miss 
much  of  its  force  and  sublimity,  unless  be  be  apprized 
that  the  art  of  designing  in  needlework  was  whoUy  ded^ 
kated  to  the  use  of  the  sanctuary,  and,  by  a  direct  pre- 
cept of  the  divine  law,  chiefly  employed  in  furnishing  a 
part  of  the  sacerdotal  habit,^^  and  the  veils  for  the  en« 
trance  of  the  tabernacle*    Thus,  die  poet  compares  the 
wisdom  of  the  divine  artificer,  with  the  most  estimable 
of  human  arts,  that  art  which  was  dignified  by  being  con- 
secrated  altogether  to  the  use  of  religion ;  atid  the  work- 
mansh^»  of  which  was  so  exquisite,  that  eveo  the  sacicd 
writings  seem  to  attribute  it  to  a  supernatural  guidance/^ 
I  will  instance  also  another  topic,  which,  if  I  am  not 
deceived,  will  suggest  several  remarkable  examples  to 
this  purpose*     There  is  one  of  the  Hebrew  poems, 
which  has  been  long  since  distinguished  by;  universal 
appn^tion ;   the  subject  is  the  wi^pm  and  design  of 
the  Creator  in  the  formation  of  the  universe :   you  wi4 
easily  perceive  that  I  have  in  view  the  hundred  and 
fourth  Psalm*    The  exordium  is  most  sublime,  and 
consists  of  a  delineation  of  the  divine  majesty  and  pow» 
er,  as  exemplified  in  the  admirable  constitution  of  na-» 
ture.    On  this  subject,  since  it  is  absdutely  necessaiy 
to  employ  figurative  language,  the  poet  has  introduced 
such  metaphors  as  were  accounted  by  the  Hebrews  the 
most  magnificent  and  most  worthy ;  for  all  of  them  are, 
in  my  opinion,  borrowed  from  the  tabernacle :  but  I  find 
it  will  be  necessary  to  quote  the  passage  itself,  and  I 
shall  endeavour  to  explain  it  as  briefly  as  possible. 

10  ExoD.  xxriii.  39.  xxvi  36.  xxvii.  16.    Compare  Bksk.  xvi.  10,  13,  1^ 
»  See  ExoD.  xxxy.  30—35. 


Lect.  8.  SACRED  TOPICS.  1 1 1 

The  poet  firrt  expresses  his  sense  of  the  greatness  and 
power  of  the  Deity  in  plain  and  &miliar  language ;  and 
^n  breaks  out  in  metaphor : 

«  Thou  art  invested  with  majesty  and  glory  ;** 

Where  observe  the  word  laba^h  (to  invest)  is  the  word       "^ 
always  used  to  express  the  ceremony  of  putting  on  the 
sacerdotal  ornaments. 
«  Covering  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  garment  :'* 

The  light  in  the  holy  of  holies,  the  manifest  symbol  of 
the  divine  presence,  is  figured  under  this  idea  ;^'  and  this 
singular  example  is  made  use  of  figuratively  to  express 
the  universal  and  inefiable  glory  of  God. 

ft  See  EvoD.  xl.  34—38.  Lbv.  xvi.  2.  Nvmb.  ix.  15, 16.  1  Knr«s.  viu. 
10,11.  2  CBBim.  vii.  1,  S.  AstinilaraUuiioiiIsAi.iT.  5.  lx.2»19  Zsco.. 
u.  5.    BsT.  xxL  23.    Autkw^»  JVo/e. 

I  d«  not  know  upon  what  authority  our  author  has  received  this  f»ct. 
The  Rabbis,  who  talk  much  about  the  Shechtna,  could  not  possibly  be  wit- 
nesses of  that  sii^t,  which  they  themselves  confess  had  disappeared  for 
many  ages  before  their  time,  and  had  never  been  seen  in  the  second  temple. 
Who,  indeed,  that  is  acquainted  with  the  rules  which  sound  reason  dictates. 
Mid  which  sU  who  study  history  must  regard,  will  give  credit,  in  a  matter 
of  so  great  antiquity,  to  witnesses,  whose  faculty  in  fabricating  falsehood 
has  been  so  frequently  exposed,  and  especially  as  they  themselves  confess, 
ifaat  they  do  not  r^;K>rt  the  fact  upon  the  authority  of  any  books  or  records, 
but  meraly  upon  the  tradition  of  their  ancestors  ?  and  no  man  can  be  igno- 
Tsnt  how  much  such  a  notion  is  lULely  to  increase  in  the  different  hands 
through  which  it  passes.  In  reality,  I  do  not  suppose  our  author  took  u^ 
the  matter  upon  their  representation,  but  that  be  founded  his  opinion  upoif 
the  passage  in  Lxvrr.  xvi.  3.  which,  however,  the  learned  Thakman  has  as- 
serted, is  not  to  be  understood  of  a  miraculous  Shechina,  but  of  a  cloud  of 
smoke,  which  surrounded  the  throne  consecrated  to  the  Deity,  lest  the  va- 
cmt  seat  should  be  exposed  to  the  mulUtude.  From  the  13th  verse  of  th6 
same  chapter  the  same  author  argues,  that  the  cloud  upon  the  mercy-seal: 
was  fictitious,  or  arose  from  the  incense  which  was  offered  there ;  though 
I  cannot  say  that  I  am  so  entirely  of  his  opinion  as  to  believe,  that  not  even 
upon  the  solemn  day  of  inauguration,  a  cloud  of  a  miraculous  nature  rested 
en  the  Cherubims.  Unless,  therefore,  we  interpret  this  passage  of  the 
Psalmist,  as  intimating  that  God  is  the  fountain  of  all  light,  I  would  refer 
it  to  that  part  of  the  history  of  creation,  which  relates  the  first  great  dis- 
play of  Almighty  power.    M. 


113  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Leot.  9. 

**  Stretching  out  the  heavens  aa  a  curtain  ;*' 

Jeringnah  is  the  word  made  use  of,  and  is  the  very  name 
of  those  curtains,  with  which  the  tabernacle  was  covered 
at  the  top  and  round  about."  The  seventy  seem  to  have 
had  this  in  view,  when  they  render  it  wu  %kffv  (as  a  skin  :)^ 
whence  the  vuIgate  sicut  peUetn  (which  is  a  literal  trans- 
lation of  the  Septuagint ;)  and  another  of  the  old  trans- 
lators lifffut  (a  hide  or  skin.) 

*^  Laying  the  beatna  of  hia  chambers  in  the  waters  :" 

In  these  words  the  poet  admirably  expresses  the  nature 
of  the  air,  which,  from  various  and  floating  elements,  is 
formed  into  one  regular  and  uniform  mass,  by  a  meta- 
phor drawn  from  the  singular  construction  of  the  taber- 
nacle :  for  it  consisted  of  many  different  parts,  which 
might  be  easily  separated,  but  which  were  united  by  a 
curious  and  artful  juncdon  and  adaptation  to  each  oth* 
cr."    He  proceeds ; 

««  Making  the  clouds  his  chariot ; 

*<  Walking  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind  t" 

He  had  before  exhibited  the  divine  Majesty  under  the 
appearance  which  it  assumed  in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  that 
of  a  bright  and  dazzling  light :  he  now  describes  it  ac-- 
cording  to  that  which  it  assumed,  when  God  accompa- 
nied the  ark  in  the  pillar  of  a  cloud,  which  was  carried 
along  through  the  atmosphere.     That  vehicle  of  the  di-  - 

ts  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  suppose  the  comparison  to  leUte  to  thc- 
tabemacle  of  Moses  more  th»  to  any  other  superb  Ikbric  of  that  kind.  M. 

U  Compare  Exod.  xztl  7,  Sec.  with  the  SxprvAGiirr. 

»  It  IB  very  evident,  that  if  this  obscrration  of  our  author  prove  any 
things,  it  proves  that  any  raftered  building^  may  be  compared  to  the  air.  For 
my  own  part  I  am  certain,  that  in  this  passage  there  is  no  allusion  at  all  to 
tlie  tabernacle,  in  which  there  was  no  cmnaculum,  or  upper  chamber,  bat 
rather  to  the  houses  in  Palestine,  at  the  top  of  which  there  was  a  cmnacu^ 
luftty  or  chamber,  apart  from  the  rest,  lor  the  sake  of  retirement,  which  has 
been  very  accurately  described  by  Shaw.    M. 


Lbct,  6.  SACRED  TOPICS.  ■  I IJ8 

vine  Presence  is,  indeed,  distinguished  in  the  sacqcd 
history  by  the  particular  appellation  of  d  chariot.^ 

^  Ma4cing  the  winds  his  messengers,  . 

M  And  his  ministevs  a  Baoung  fire  :" 

The  elements  are  described  as  prompt  and  ready  in  exe- 
cuting the  commands  of  Jehov  ahv  as  angels,  mcssett- 
gers,  or  ministers  serving  at  the  tafaemaele,  the  Hebrew 
word  being  exactly  expressive  of  ihe  btter  aedse.     '  ^  • 
«  Who  founded  the  earth  apon  its  bases  :^  V   '  *  -       \  i  -.  ■ 

The  following  phrase  also  is  directly^'takfen  from 'the 
same :  '      . ) 

.  «  That  it  should  not  be  displaced  for  mpr^itban  ages  i** 

That  is,  "  for  a  certain  period  known  only  to  the  infinite 
wisdom  of  God."  As  the  situation  of  bpth  was.  in  this 
tespect  nearly  the  same,  so,  on  the  dthef  hand,  the  per- 
manence of  the  sanctuary  is  in  other  places  compared, 
and  in  almost  the  same  words,  with  the  stability  of  the 
earth.^^  ; 

Perhaps,  in  pursuing  this  investigation  W|th  so  nvuch 
subtilty  and  minuteness,  I  have  scarcely  acted  consist- 
ently with  the  customs  of  this  place,  or  the  nature  of  my 
design :  but  it  appeared  absolutely  necessary  so^to  do» 
in  order  to  make  myself  perfectly  understood ;  and  to 
demonstrate,  that  it  is  scarcely  or  not  at  all,  possible  for 
any  translation  fully  to  represent  the  genuine  sense  of 
the  sacred  poets,  and  that  delicate  connection  which  for  *- 
the  most  part  exists  between  their  poetical  imagery,  and 
the  peculiar  circumstances  of  their  nation.^  This  con? 
nection  frequently  depends  upon  the  use  of  certain  terms, 

10  2  CflBoir.  xxviii.  18.    See  also  Ecckus  zlU.  8. 

w  PsAL.  ixxviii.  69. 

1*  It  may  be  asserted  of  translations  in  general,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  ex- 
perienced the  trath  of  tlie  obser>'ation  in  this  very  attempt,  that  many  of 
the  minuter  beauties  of  style  are  necessarily  lost ;  a  translator  is  scarcely 

15 


// 


114  POETIC  IMAGERY,  &c.  Lbct.!. 

.npon  a  certain  atebciation  between  words  and  things, 
which  a  translation  generally  perplexes,  and  very  fiie- 
qnently  destroys.  This»  therefore,  is  not  to  be  preserv- 
ed in  the  most  literal  and  accurate  version,  much  less  in 
any  poetical  translation,  or  rather  imitation:  thou^ 
there  are  extant  sonie  not  unsuccessful  attempts  of  this 
kind.  To  relish  completely  all  the  excellencies  of  the 
Hebrew  literatms^  Ae  fountains  themselves  must  be  ap- 
proached,  the  peculiar  flavour  of  which  cannot  be  con- 
veyed by  aqueducts,  or  indeed  by  any  exertion  of  mod- 
em art. 

allowed  to  intrade  upon  hii  author  any  figures  or  images  of  his  own.  and 
ivany  which  appear  in  the  original  must  be  omitted  of  course.  Metaphon, 
synecdoches»  and  metonymies,  are  frequently  untractahle ;  the  correspond- 
ing irards  woiild  }ii!obab}y  in  a  figoratiye  sense  appear  harsh  or  obaeure. 
Th^obyefTaUoiiy  bowcvier,  appU^  with  less  justice  to  our  common  versioa 
of  the  Bible  than  to  any  translation  whatever.  It  was  made  in  a  very  early 
stage  of  our  literat^sre,  and  when  the  language  was  by  no  mesns  formed : 
-  In  Bu^  a  state  of  the  labgtmg^,  theftgucatxve  diction  of  the  Hebrews  might 
be  literally  rendered  without  riolence  to  the  national  taste ;  and  the  fre- 
quent recurrence  of  the  saijne  images  and  expressions  serves  to  familiarize 
thenTio'  us.  Time'  and  habit  have  nowg^ves  it  feree  and  authority ;  and  I 
bcli«»)s  th4v  no? cr  was  an  instance  of  any  translation^  so  very  literal  and  ex- 
act, being  read  with  s^ch  universal  satisftctioa  and  pleasure.    T. 


LECTURE  IX. 


OF  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  THE  SACRED  HISTOttT. 

Tile  ixaaguy  from  tlie  sacred  hiftory  is  the  most  luminous  and  erident  of 
all— The  peculiar  nature  «f  ^is  kind  of  metaphor  explained,  as  used  by 
the  Hebrew  poet*— The  order  of  the  toph»  which  commonly  filhinh' 
Ihem  :  the  Chaos  snd  Creation  {  the  Delufet  the  destntctioqof  Sodon^ 
the  emigration  of  the  Israeliies  from  Egypt ;  the  descent  of  God  upof^ 
Mount  Sinah-^This  species  of  metaphor  excellently  adapted  to  the  s'sp 
cred  poetry,  and  particularly  to  the  prophetic  ;  not  easy  to  form  any> 
comparison  between  the  sacred  and  profiuie  poetry  in  this  respect 

mFovk  distinot  classes  of  imagery  having  been  specified, 
as  capable  of  being  introduced  in  a  metaphorical  form 
into  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  the  last  of  these,  or  that 
which  is  si^^gested  by  the  more  remarkable  transactions 
recorded  in  the  sacred  history,  now  remains  to  be  exam*^ 
ined«  Here,  however,  since  the  nature  o£  the  subject 
differs  in  some  degree  from  the  former  objects  of  our 
investigation,  so  the  manner  of  treating  it  must  be  also 
different.  The  principal  design  of  our  late  disquisition 
was,  by  conudering  the  circumstances,  customs,  opin** 
ions,  and  sentiments  of  the  Hebrews,  to  facili^te  our 
approach  to  the  interior  beauties  of  their  poetry ;  and,, 
by  duly  examining  die  nature  of  the  circumstaiKes,  to 
estimate  more  properly  the  force  and  power  of  each ;  to 
dispel  as  much  as  possible  the  mists  of  antiquity ;  to  re* 
store  their  native  perspicuity  to  such  passages  as  appear 
obscure,  their  native  agreeableness  to  such  as  npw  in- 
spire us  with  sentiments  of  disjjust,  their  proper  allMre* 


/ 

< 


116  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lect.  ». 

ment  and  elegance  to  those  which  seem  harsh  and  vul- 
gar, and  their  original  dignity  to  those  which  the  change- 
ablencss  of  custom  has  rendered  contemptible  or  mean. 
In  this  division  of  our  subject,  on  the  contrary,  but  little 
will  occur  either  difficult  or  obscure ;  nothing  which 
will  seem  to  require  explication  or  de£stice :  all  will  be 
at  once  perspicuous,  splendid,  and  sublime.  Sacred 
history  iUununates  tlus  class  of  imagery  with  its  proper 
light,  and  renders  it  scarcely  less  con^icuous  to  us  than 
tothc  Hebrews  themselves.  There  is,  indeed,  this  d\t- 
ference,  that  to  the  Hebrews  the  objects  of  these  allu- 
sions were  all  national  and  domestic ;  and  the  power  of 
them  in  moving  or  delighting  the  mind  was  of  course 
proportionably  greater ;  nay,  frequently,  the  very  place, 
the  scene  of  action,  certain  traces,  and  express  tokens  of 
so  many  miracles  lying  before  their  eyes,  must  have  in- 
(jreased  the  trfTect.  To  us,  on  the  other  hand,  however 
ifre  may  hold  these  facts  in  veneration,  however  great 
and  striking  they  may  be  in  themselves,  the  distance 
.p/  of  time  and  place  must  of  necessity  render  them  less 
iriteresting. 

'  'The  manner  in  which  these  metaphors  are  formed  is 
well  deserving  of  observation,  and  is  in  fact  as  follows. 
In  describing  or  embellishing  illustrious  actions,  or  fu- 
ture t+tnts  of  a  miraculous  nature,  the  Hebrew  poets 
at^  acclistomcd  to  introduce  allusions  to  the  actions  of 
fofr^hier  times,  such  as  possess  a  conspicuous  place  iu' 
thefr  history ;  and  thus  they  illuminate  with  colours, 
fBfcip;^!,  indeed,  but  similar,  the  future  by  the  past,  the 
rt^oeirt  l^'  the  antique,  facts  less  known  by  others  more 
gciidriilf)'  .understood  :  and  as  this  property  seems  pecu- 
liilr  to  iKt  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  at  least  is  but  seldom 
to  be  met  with  in  that  of  other  nations,  I  have  determin- 
ed to  iflitstratb  this  part  of  my  subject  with  a  greater 
variety  of  examples  ilum  usual?    I  mean,  therefore,  to 


LxcT.d.  THE  SACRED  HISTORY.  llf 

instance  in  a  reguliff  order  certain  topics  or  common* 
places  of  Scripture,  which  seem  to  have  furnished,  if 
not  all,  at  least  the  principal  part  of  these  allusions :  it 
will  be  necessary  at  the  same  time  to  remark  their  figur- 
ative power  and  effect,  and  the  regular  and  uniform 
method  pursued  in  the  application  of  them,  which  has 
been  already  stated  as  characteristical  of  the  poetical 
imagery  of  the  Hebrews. 

The  first  of  these  topics,  or  common-places,  is  the 
Chaps  and  the  Creation,  which  compose  the  first  pages  y 
of  the  sacred  history.  These  are  constantly  alluded  to» 
as  expressive  of  any  remarkable  change,  whether  pros* 
perous  or  adverse,  in  the  public  affairs ;  of  the  over- 
throw or  restoration  of  kingdoms  and  nations :  and  are 
consequently  very  common  in  the  prophetic  poetry, 
particularly  when  any  unusual  degree  of  boldness  is  at- 
tempted. If  the  subject  be  the  destruction  of  the  Jew- 
ish empire  by  the  Chaldeans,  or  a  strong  denunciation 
of  ruin  against  the  enemies  of  Israel,  it  is  depicted  in 
exactly  the  same  colours,  as  if  universal  nature  were 
about' to  relapse  into  the  primeval  chaos.  Thus  Jere- 
miah, in  that  sublime,  and  indeed  more  than  poetical 
vision,  in  which  is  represented  the  impending  desolation 
of  Judea : 

^  I  beheld  the  earth,  and  lo  !  disorder  and  confusion  ; 

<<  The  beaYens  also,  and  there  was  no  light. 

<<  I  beheld  the  mountains,  and  lo  !  they  trembled  ; 

M  And  all  the  hills  shook. 

^  I  beheld,  and  lo !  there  was  not  a  man ; 

^«  And  all  the  fowls  of  the  heavens  were  fled. 

(*  1  beheldi  and  lo  !  the  fruitful  field  (was  become)  the  desen ; 

^  And  all  its  cities  were  thrown  down, 

^  Before  the  presence  of  Jehovah, 

*<  Before  the  fierce  heat  of  his  anger.*' ^ 

\  Jkb.  it.  2S— 26.    This  imagie,  and  that  which  follows  from  Joel,  the 
learned  Michaells  wiU  not  allow  to  relate  to  the  Mosaic  chaos,  but  «up. 


?/ 


Hi  POETIC  IMAGERT  FROM  Uct.  f. 

And  on  a  nmilar  subject  Isaiah  expresses  himself  with 
wonderful  force  andsublimiqr : 

M  And  he  shall  stretch  over  her  the  line  of  devaslation, 
^  And  the  plummet  of  emptiness."* 
Each  of  them  not  only  had  in  his  mind  the  Mosaic  cha* 
/^  03,  but  actually  uses  the  words  of  the  divine  historian. 
^^  The  same  subjects  are  amplified  and  embellished  by 
the  prophets  with  several  adjuncts : 

M  The  sun  and  the  moon  are  darkened, 

M  And  the  stars  withdraw  their  shining. 

«  Jkhotab  also  will  thunder  from  Sion, 

<(  And  from  Jerusalem  will  he  utter  his  voice ; 

^  And  the  heavens  and  the  earth  shall  shake."* 

«  And  all  the  host  of  heaven  shall  waste  away : 

«  And  the  heavens  shall  he  rolled  up  like  a  scroll ; 

«<  And  all  their  host  shall  wither ; 

<<  As  the  withered  leaf  falleth  from  the  vine, 

w  And  as  the  hlighted  fig  from  the  fig-tree."* 

On  the  contrary,  when  he  foretels  the  restoration  of 
the  Israelites : 

«  For  I  am  Jehovah  thy  God ; 

M  He  who  stilleth  at  once  the  sea, 

"  Though  the  waves  thereof  roar  ; 

<<  Jbhovah  God  of  Hosts  is  his  name. 

<<  I  have  put  my  words  in  thy  mouth ; 

«  And  with  the  shadow  of  my  hand  have  I  covered  thee: 

M  To  stretch  out  the  heavens»  and  to  lay  the  foundations  of  the 
«  earth ; 

M  And  to  say  unto  Sion,  Thou  art  my  people."' 

posei  them  to  be  no  more  than  a  description  of  some  horrible  and  desoUt- 
ing  tempest    Of  this  the  reader  must  judge  for  himself.    T. 
s  IsAi.  zxxiv.  11.  '  JoEi  iii.  IS,  16.  <  Isai.  xzxiv.  4 

f  Isii.  li.  15, 16.  R^Mgang,  "  tranquillizing^  (or)  instantaneously  stilling^  :^ 
it  is  commonly  rendered  clearing',  dividing,  not  only  in  this,  but  in  the 
parallel  places,  Jaa.  zxzi.  35.  Job  xxvl  13.  I  am,  however,  of  opinion, 
that  the  meaning  of  the  word  has  been  totally  mistaken,  it  denotes  strictly 
something^  imtmuainemu  /  a  cessation  of  motion,  or  a  wdden  qtdeHng :  as 
when  a  bird  suddenly  lights  upon  a  tree.    See  Isai.  xxxiv.  14.    The  Bs^ 


LBCT.f.  THE  SACRED  HISTORY.  ttf 

«  Thus  therefinre  shall  Jxrotah  console  Mod  ^ 
«  He  shell  console  her  desolations : 
<<  And  he  shall  make  her  wQdemess  like  Eden  9 
<<  And  her  desert  like  the  garden  of  Jxhotab  i 
^  Joy  and  gladness  shall  be  found  in  her ; 
<*  Thanksgiving,  and  the  voice  of  melody  .**> 

In  the  former  of  these  two  last-quoted  examples  the 
universal  deluge  is  exactly  delineated,  and  on  similar 
subjects  the  same  imagery  generally  occurs.  Thus,  as 
the  devastation  of  the  holy  land  is  frequently  represented 
by  the  restoration  of  ancient  chaos,  so  the  same  event  is 
sometimes  expressed  in  metaphors  suggested  by  the 
universal  deluge : 

f<  Behold,  Jbhotah  emptieth  the  land,  and  maketh  it  waste ; 

«  He  even  tumeth  it  upside  down,  and  scattereth  abroad  the  in- 

*^  habitants* 
^  For  the  flood-gates  from  on  high  are  opened ; 
M  And  the  foundations  of  the  earth  tremble. 
«  The  land  is  grievously  shaken  ; 
M  The  land  is  utterly  shattered  to  pieces ; 
^  The  land  is  violently  moved  out  of  her  place ; 

TUAozxT  very  properly  tenders  it,  in  the  sbove-quoted  passage  in  Job, 
wtfBnnm.    Conmilt  the  CoveoKDAHOi. 

**  If  any  doabt  can  reoudn  concerning  this  tmnalation  of  the  word  ra- 
'^  gvng^  it  wiU  meet  anfficient  confirmation  ftom  the  Arabic,  in  which  the 
"  aame  verb  impliea,  /•  rtdiu^  a  iking  to  if  ftrmgr^  «r  a  better^  ttate. 
**  Whence  are  derived  the  following  words,  regangf  a  lake  (aa  it  were  a 
**  flood  of  water  atopped  and  confined ;)  ragitu^t  to  atop  or  confineaflood 
^  of  water ;  ragangan^  atagnant  or  confined  waters.**    H. 

Concerning  the  phrase  ^  to  atretch  out  the  heavens,**  consult  Yrranio. 
in  loc.        JtuihM*9  /Tpte, 

^  Ver.  16.  Tq  ttretch  out  the  heanetui]  In  the  present  text  it  ia  ynab,  to 
**  plant  the  heavena  :  the  phrase  ia  certainly  very  obscure ;  and  in  all  prob» 
"  abUity  is  a  mistake  for  jYwib.  This  latter  ia  the  word  uaed  in  ver.  13. 
"  just  before,  in  the  very  same  aentence  ;  and  thia  phrase  occurs  fi-equently 
c*  in  ItJki.  Chap.  zl.  32.  xlii.  5.  xliv.  34.  xlv.  12.  The  former  in  no  oth- 
^  er  place.  It  ia  alao  very  remarkable,  that  in  the  Samaritan  text.  Hums. 
«■  zxiv.  %,  these  two  words  are  tince  changed,  by  miatake,  one  for  the  other, 
«<  in  the  same  verse.**    Mi9hop  l4SWTa*s  Uaiah,  Akftt,  ch.  li. 

•  IsAX.  li.  3. 


ISO  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  LscT.f. 

*<  The  land  reeleth  to  and  fro  like  a  drunkard ; 

^  And  moretb  this  way  and  that,  like  a  lodge  for  a  iiight"7 

These  are  great  ideas  ;  indeed  the  human  mind  can- 
not easily  conceive  any  thing  greater  or  more  sublime. 
There  is  nothing,,  however,  of  this  kind  more  forcible 
and  elevated  than  that  imagery  which  is  taken  from  the 
destruction  of  Sodom,  that  being  the  next  in  order  of 
these  topics,  and  generally  applied  to  express  the  pun- 
ishments  to  be  inflicted  by  the  Almighty  on  the  wicked : 
<^  He  shall  rain  li?e  coals  upon  the  ungodly, 
^  Fire  and  sulphur,  and  a  burning  storm  :*  this  shall  be  the  con- 
•<  tents  of  their  cup."* 

»  iBAi.  Mir.  1,  18,  19,  20.  *•  Solekah,  ipiyc^i  «V,  (desoUteth  it)  Sew. 
"  and  in  the  same  sense  the  Jewish  commenUtors :  amongst  whom  R.  D. 
"  KiMcHi,  having  recoupse  to  the  Arabic,  says,  the  word  Balohah  signifies 
"  in  that  language,  a  place  in  which  no  plant  it  found  to  vegotate."*     H. 

•*  The  word  Melunah  properly  signifies  an  abode  chan^d  nightly  from 
^ place  to  place:  «ul  is  therefore  expressive  of  the  vibrating  and  unsublc 
«  situation  of  the  earth.  The  Sept.  is  «nuyMr^xmio**  The  Taho.  and  Sth. 
"  KVnj^,  a  couch  for  one  night  g  a  travelling  bed.  See  Bvxtobv.  Lex  Otald 
••  col.  1670.    Kixcni  also  explains  the  word  in  the  same  manner.'*    H. 

^uthor^t  JVote. 

•  This  is  an  admirable  image,  and  is  taken  from  the  school  of  nature. 
The  wind  Zilgaphoth,  which  blows  from  the  East,  is  very  pestUental,  and 
therefore  almost  proverbial  among  the  Orientals.  In  the  months  of  Jul/ 
and  August,  when  it  happens  to  continue  for  the  space  often  minutes,  it 
kills  whatever  is  exposed  to  it  Many  wonderlul  stories  are  related  of  iU 
effects  by  the  Arabians,  and  their  poeto  feign  that  the  wicked,  in  their 
place  of  eternal  torment,  are  to  breathe  this  pestiferous  wind  as  their  vi- 
tal air.    M. 

•  PsAL.  xi.  6.  PacAtm,  «  live  coals,"  «9p««f,  as  it  is  rendered' by  tlie 
•Id  Translator,  Chrts.  in  Loc.  Globes  of  fiie,  or  meteors,  such  as  Pliny 
calls  Bolidao,  Nat.  Hist.  ii.  26.  or  simply  the  liglitning  seems  to  be  under- 
stood.  Compare  PsAt.  xviii.  13,  14.  JosiFRrs  on  the  DettrucUon  of  Sod^ 
0«,  "  God  assailed  the  city  with  his  thunderbolts  ;"  JnHq.  i.  11.  Philo  on 
the  same  :  «  Lightning  fell  down  from  heaven.»»  Be  Vit.  Mob.  i.  12.  This 
18  certainly  more  agreeable  to  the  context  than  onareo.  The  root  is  Pu. 
Qch,  which  though  it  sometimes  means  to  entnare,  yet  more  frequently 
means  to  breathe  forth,  or  emit,  fire,  for  inst:ince.  Ezek.  xxi.  31  «  In  the 
*'fire  of  my  -urrath  1  -mtt  blow  upon  theeV  The  Ammonites  are  spoken  of, 
ts  thrown  into  the  furnace  of  the  divine  wralli :  compare  ch.  xxii.  21. 


I-Bet.*.  «a  SACKED  mSTORtT.  lii 

«*  For  it  is  the  day  of  rengeance  to  J^Bomn ; 

^  The  year  of  recompence  to  the  defender  of  the  cause  of  Sioo. 

^  And  her  torrents  shall  be  turned  into  pitch, 

*  And  her  dust  into  sulphur ; 

<*  And  her  whole  land  shall  become  burning  pitch  : 
"  By  night  br  by  day  it  shall  not  be  extinguished, 
«  For  eVer  shall  her  sAoke  ascend : 
«  From  generation  to  generation  she  shsll  lie  desert ; 
«  To  everlasting  ages  no  one  shall  pass  through  her.'**  * 

The  emigration  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt,  as  it  af^ 
fords  materials  for  many  magnificent  descriptions,  ig 
commonly  applied  in  a  metaphorical  manner  to  many 
events,  which  bear  no  unapt  resemblance  to  it.  Doci 
God  promise  to  his  people  liberty,  assistance,  security^ 
ami  favour  ?  The  Exodus  occurs  spontaneously  to  the 
mind  of  the  poet ;  the  dividing  of  the  sea,  the  destruc* 
tion  of  the  enemy,  the  desert  which  was  safely  Imvers^ 
cd,  and  the  torrents  bursting  forth  from  the  rocks,  are 
so  many  splendid  objects  that  force  themselves  on  his 
imagination : 

where  almost  the  saflie  words  occur,  except  that  the  corresponding  (and 
m  this  case  synonymous)  verb  JStapauh  ia  made  use  of,  whenee  Mapnach, 
a  bellows  :  Jib.  ▼!.  S9.  In  the  same  sense  the  yerb  Jhiaeh  is  intniduced 
PaoT.  xzix  8.  ^  Scomers  will  inJUme  a  oity.**  So  also  the  Sarr.  Stmxa* 
nus,  the  Stxiac  ;  and  rightly,  aa  appears  ftom  the  si^tithetie  member  of 
the  sentence  :  **  hut  rrim  men  rriU  turn  away  wrath."  ftim  this  ezplicar 
tkm  of  the  root  Jhtaeh^  the  word  Fach,  a  cm/  blown  «>,  is  rightly  derived  t 
ind  Piatk,  (BX09.  ix.  a)  ember»,  in  which  the  fire  may  yet  be  excited  by 
blowing. 
*<The  true  sense  of  the  word  PocAiaiinthis  place,  "  burning  coals,**  will 

*  easily  be  confirmed  from  the  use  of  the  verb  I*uach  m  the  Arabic  '*  te 
**bMap9t  f**  whence  JPuchai  (vehement  heat,  or  bundn^.)  It  cannot, 
**  however,  be  denied,  that  the  Orientals  sometimes  call  the  Liaanriv» 
«*  enaret,  or  chatn».  The  Arabic  word  nVobo,  (plur.  boi6D)  according  to 
•*  6oLru8,  not  only  signifies  a  cAom,  but  also  the  track  9/ a  thunderbolt 
**  tkreugh  the  cloude  ;  so  called,  I  apprehend,  from  the  continual  oonusc». 
^  tions,  which  seem  to  be  connectoi  with  each  other  like  a  chain.**    H, 

Authm^e  JVWr. 
M  IsAX.  xxxiv.  8,  9»  10# 

16 


\ 


13a  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lsev.  9. 

^  Thus  «aith  Jbhotah  ; 

M  Who  made  a  way  in  the  sea ; 

^  And  a  path  in  the  oiighty  waters  : 

M  Who  brought  forth  the  rider  and  the  horse,  the  army  and  the 

"  warrior ; 
^  Together  they  lay  down,  they  rose  no  more ; 
M  They  were  extinguished,  they  were  quenched  like  tow : 
**  Remember  not  the  former  things  ; 
•<  And  the  things  of  ancient  times  regard  not ; 
«« Behold,  I  make  a  new  thing  ; 

«<  Even  now  shall  it  spring  forth  ;  will  ye  not  regard  it  ? 
<<  Yea,  I  will  make  in  the  wilderness  a  way  ; 
^  In  the  desert  streams  of  water."^  ^ 

There  is  also  another  prophecy  of  the  same  divine  poet, 
which  in  one  sense  (though  I  think  not  the  principal)  is 
to  be  understood  as  relating  to  the  liberation  of  the  Is- 
raelites from  the  Babylonish  captivity.  In  the  exordium 
the  same  imagery  is  introduced,  but  in  a  very  noble  per- 
sonification, than  which  nothing  can  be  more  sublime : 

<(  Awake,  awake,  clothe  thyself  with  strength,  O  arm  of  Jehovah  I 

^  Awake  as  in  the  days  of  old,  the  ancient  generations. 

<«  Art  thou  not  the  same,  that  smote  Rahab,  that  wounded  the 

<(  dragon  ? 
^  Art  thou  not  the  same  that  dried  up  the  sea,  the  waters  of  the 

tt  great  deep  I 
^  That  made  the  depths  of  the  sea  a  path  for  the  redeemed  to  past 

Uiroogh?"»* 

Of  the  same  kind  is  the  last  of  these  topics  which  I 
shall  instance,  the  descent  of  Jehovah  at  the  delivery 
of  the  law.  When  the  Almighty  is  described  as  com- 
ing to  execute  judgement,  to  deliver  the  pious,  and  to 
destroy  his  enemies,  or  in  any  manner  exerting  his  di- 
vine power  upon  earth,  the  description  is  embelhshed 
from  that  tremendous  scene  which  was  exhibited  upon 

»  ItAi.  zliii.  16—19.    See  also  zlWiL  21. 
ft  liAi.  IL  9, 10. 


\ 

liXCT.  9.  THE  SACRED  HISTORY.  lis  \ 

Mount  Sinah  :"  there  is  no  imagery  more  frequently  \ 

recurred  to  than  this,  and  there  is  none  more  sublime : 

1  will  only  trouble  you  with  two  examples : 

«  For,  behold,  Jsbovau  will  go  forth  from  his  place ; 

^  And  he  will  come  dowo,  and  will  uead  on  the  high  place»  of  the 

«earth, 
«  And  the  mountains  shall  be  molten  under  him  : 
^*  And  the  valleys  shall  cleave  asunder ; 
^  As  wax  before  the  fire, 
^  As  waters  poured  down  a  steep  place/*^^ 
M  The  earth  shook  and  was  alarmed, 
><  And  the  foundations  of  the  hills  rocked  with  terror, 
^  For  the  wrath  of  Jbhovah  was  hot  against  them. 
^  Before  his  face  a  smoke  ascended, 
<•  And  a  flame  consumed  before  his  presence, 
«<  Burning  fires  were  kindled  by  it. 
<*  He  bowed  the  heavens  and  came  down, 
^  And  clouds  of  darkness  were  beneath  his  feet 
<<  He  rode  upon  the  pinions  of  the  Cherubim» 
^  And  flew  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 
<*  He  concealed  himself  in  a  veil  of  darkness ; 
**  A  pavilion  encompassed  him 
«  Of  black  water,  and  thick  ctouds  of  ether.^  ' 
<*From  the  brightness  before  him  thick  clouds  pass'd  along, 
^  Hailstones  and  burning  fires. 
^  Jbbovab  thundere^^in  the  heavens ; 
<*  And  th^  most  high  Qod  sent  forth  his  voice ; 
<*  He  fhot  out  his  arrows  and  dbpersed  the  enemies, 
^  And  he  multiplied  his  thunder  and  confounded  them.*'^* 

These  examples,  though  literally  translated,  and  des^ 
tjitute  of  the  harmony  of  verse,  will  I  think  sufficiently 
demonstrate  the  force,  the  grandeur  and  sublimity  of 

13  See  Exov.  xix.  16^  18.    Dxur.  iv.  11, 12.  m  Mic.  i.  3,  4. 

u  Yer.  13  and  14.    They  seem  to  be  conected  by  the  psrallel  passage» 

2  Sax.  xziL  13, 14.  See  KsinricoTT,  Dissert  L  Of  the  Hebrew  Text,  p.  461. 
'<  The  words  put  'hmn  na,  which  are  now  repeated  in  Ter.  14.  are  wanting^ 
in  four  Manoscripu.    K.    4uihai^9  JWle. 

»  PsAL.  XTiii.  r— 14. 


/i 


134  PONTIC  IMAGERY  FROM  LseT.9. 

these  images,  which,  wl^  applied  to  other  events,  sug« 
gest  ideas  still  greater,  than  when  described  as  phin  facts 
by  the  pen  of  the  historian,  in  however  magnificent 
terms :  for  to  the  greatness  and  sublimity  of  the  itpages 
which  are  alluded  to,  is  added  the  pleasure  and  admira- 
tion which  results  from  the  comparison  between  them 
and  the  objects  which  they  are  brought  to  illustrate. 

It  is,  however,  worthy  of  observation,  that,  since 
many  of  these  images  possess  such  a  degree  of  resem- 
blance as  renders  them  equally  fit  for  the  illustration  of 
the  same  objects,  it  frequently  happens  that  several  of 
them  are  collected  togedier,  in  order  to  magnify  and 
embellish  some  particular  event :  of  this  there  is  an  ex« 
ample  in  that  very  thanksgiving  ode  of  David,  which 
we  have  just  now  quoted.^^  For,  after  describing  the 
wrath  and  majesty  of  God,  in  imagery  taken  from  the 
descent  upon  Mount  Sinai,  as  already  explained,  in  the 
very  ne^t  verse,  the  division  of  the  Red  sea  and  the 
river  Jordan  is  alluded  to : 

^  Then  appeared  the  channels  of  the  waters; 
"  The  foundations  of  the  world  were  discorered ; 
«<  At  thy  reproofs,  O  Jshoyah  i 
**  At  the  breathing  of  the  spirit  of  thine  anger /*^* 

It  is  evident,  however,  as  well  from  the  examples 
which  have  been  adduced,  as  from  the  nature  of  the 
thing  itself,  that  this  species  of  metaphor  is  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  prophetic  poetry.  For  some  degree  of 
obscurity  is  the  necessary  attendant  upon  prophecy; 

17  See  also  Isai.  xxxiv.  and  what  is  remarked  on  that  passage,  Lect.  XX. 

1*  PsAL.  xvili.  16.  AUusioni  to  the  deitruction  of  Niimod,  the  first  in- 
atitutor  of  idolatry,  and  his  adherents,  are,  in  the  prophets  at  least,  as 
frequent,  if  not  more  so,  than  to  any  other  of  the  topics  here  noticed.-^ 
fixsmples  of  this  kind  I  have  pointed  out  in  a  Dissertation  on  Fallen  An- 
gels, published  by  Johnson :— «nd  in  another  edition  shall  instanee  many 
:piore^    8.  H. 


l4(eT.9.  T^E  S^^RED  HISTORY.  1«5 

not  th^  iii4ced^  which  coofiises  the  dictioni  and  dark* 
cos  the  ^le ;  but  that  which  results  from  the  necesbity 
of  murwainga  part  c^  the  future»  and  from  the  impro-  ^  ^ 
priety  of  making  a  complete  revelation  of  every  circum- 
stance c9HDected  with  the  prediction.    The  event  iuiclf, 
therefore^  is  o&en  c^earty  indicated,  but  the  manner  and 
th^  circumstances  are  generally  involved  in  obscurity. 
To  this  purpose  imagery  such  as  we  have  specified  is 
ea^ceitently  adapted,  for  it  enables  the  prophet  more 
^cihl^  to  impress  \ipon  the  mindaof  his  auditors  those 
Harts  qf  bis  subject  which  admit  of  amplification,  the 
force,  the  splendour,  the  magnitude  of  every  incident  \ 
apd  at  the  same  time  more  completely  to  conceal,  what 
are  proper  to  be  concealed,  the  order,  the  mode,  and  s,^^^ 
the  minuter  circumstances  attending  the  event.  It  is  also  y 
no  less  apparent,  that  in  thb  respect  the  sacred  poetry 
bears  little  or  no  analogy  to  that  of  other  nations ;  since  ^ 
neither  history  nor  fable  afforded  to  the  profane  writers    i  . 
a  sufficiently  importanj  store  of,  tbi^kiDd^oLJmagcry  ; 
nor  did  their  subjects  in  general  require  that  use  or  ap**  J 
plication  of  it. 

Thb  species  of  metaphor  b  indeed  so  adapted,  as  I 
before  observed,  to  the  nature  of  prophecy,  that  even 
profane  poetry,  when  of  the  prophetic  kind,  is  not  alto* 
gether  destitute  of  it ;  and  we  find  that  Virgil  himself, 
in  delivering  his  prophecies,  has  more  than  once  adopt* 
ed  thb  method ; 

<«  Shnois  nor  Xsathuft  thsll  be  wanting  there  ; 

^  A  new  Achilles  shall  in  arms  appear ; 

«  And  be  too  godde8s«bom^-«-«- 

<<  Another  Tiphjrs  shall  new  seas  explore, 

<*  Another  Argos  brave  Uie  Iberian  shore, 

<•  Another  Helen  other  wars  create, 

^  And  great  Achilles  urge  the  Tit>]an  iate  :'*^* 

I»  Damn's  VirgO^  JEo.  tL  134.    lidog.  W.  4I, 


981  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lect.  f . 

Though  some  will  perhaps  be  inclined  to  interpret  this 
passage  literally  from  the  completion  of  the  great  year^ 
and  the  doctrine  of  the  general  restitution  of  all  things.** 
There  is,  indeed,  this  difference  between  the  sacred  and 
pro&ne  writers,  that  among  the  latter  we  find  frequent 
examples  of  metaphors  taken  from  some  remarkable 
person  and  event,  applied  to  some  other  event  or  char- 
acter ;*^  but  we  never  find  from  such  facts  a  general  or 
common  image  derived,  which,  as  an  established  mode 
of  expression,  is  regularly  applied  to  the  illustration  of 
similar  objects,  even  to  the  designation  of  a  universal 
or  unlimited  idea* 

I  have  classed  all  these  examples  under  one  general 
head  of  metaphor,  though  many  of  them  might  more 
properly  be  referred  to  that  of  Allegory  :  but  this  cir^ 
cumstance  is  of  no  importance  to  the  object  which  I  was 
desirous  of  elucidating.  Many,  indeed,  of  those  which 
I  have  produced  on  this  last  occasion,  might  more  prop* 
erly  be  referred  to  that  sublimer  kind  of  allegory,  which 

f<^   in  its  principal  view  looks  forward  to  a  meaning  much 

■V 

«  90  See  OaioBK  cvntra  Cehumt  Lib.  tr.  p.  208.    Edit  Spencer. 

U  AUusIoBs  to  ancient  histoiy,  both  fabulous  and  authentic^  are  com- 
nion  with  the  poets  and  orators  of  all  nations.    There  b  a  very  fine  one  of 
this  kind  in  the  second  Philippic  of  Cicero.    When  he  replies  to  Antony's 
accusaUon  of  being  concerned  in  Caesar's  death,  he  excUums,  that  he  glories 
in  the  accusation :— >"  I  esteem  it»"  says  he.  "  as  great  an  honour  to  be  ac* 
"  counted  a  partner  in  such  an  action,  as  if,  with  the  princes  of  the  Greeks, 
**  I  had  been  inclosed  in  the  Trojan  horse."    But  I  do  not  recollect  a  mote 
beautiful  instance  than  one  of  a  contemporary  poet : 
**  Humility  herself,  divinely  mild, 
"  Sublime  Relig^n's  meek  and  modest  child, 
"  Like  the  dumb  son  of  Croesus,  in  the  strife, 
*'  When  force  assail'd  his  father's  sacred  Ufe| 
"  Breaks  silence,  and,  will)  filial  duty  warm, 
**  Bids  thee  revere  her  parent's  hallowed  form !" 

flATLsr's  Ettay  wit  HUtory,  addressed  to  Mr.  Gibbo:^ 

Essay  iii.  v.  379.    T» 


Lbct.  9.  THE  SACRED  HISTORY.  127 

more  important  than  that  which  is  obvious  and  literal ;  •^ 
and  under  the  ostensible  subject,  asjnSer  a  rind  or  shell, 
conceals 'iShe  interior  and  more  sacrecl^)  Of  thb,  how- 
ever, we  shall  presendy  have  occasfotTto  speak  more  ex- 
plicidy ;  for  when  we  come  to  treat  of  the  allegory  of 
the  Hebrews,  it  will  be  necessary  to  touch  upon  that 
species  (however  difficult  and  obscure  the  subject)  in 
which  the  sublimity  of  many  of  the  sacred  poems  will 
be  found  chiefly  to  consbt.** 

tt  Professor  Michselis  nukes  a  very  considerable  addition  to  this  Lectave» 
concemuig  those  images  or  figures  which  are  taken  from  poetic  fable.  He 
asserts  that  such  fable  is  essential  to  all  poetry ;  that  whoever  has  a  taste 
lor  poetry  cannot  possibly  take  it  m  a  literal  sense»  and  that  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  it  is  ornament  and  pleasure. 

He  obserres  that  there  are  many  particulars,  in  which  a  wonderlul  agree- 
ment may  be  discorered  between  the  fables  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and 
thckse  of  the  Hebrews.  He  is  of  opinion  that  this  agreement  clearly  indi- 
cates a  common  source,  which  he  supposes  to  be  Egypt  From  Egypt,  Ho- 
mer and  the  other  Greek  poets  borrowed  tlie  principal  of  their  fables,  as  we 
may  learn  from  Herodotus  and  Heliodorus  :  nor  is  it  at  all  improbable,  that 
the  Hebrtws  should  do  the  same,  who  were  for  two  successive  ages  the 
subjects  and  scholars  of  the  Egyptians.  The  most  ancient  Hebrew  poem. 
Job,  abounds  in  Egyptian  and  fabulous  imagery :  as  may  be  seen  in  the  pro- 
lessor's  dissertation  on  that  subject  before  the  academy  of  sciences. 

He  begins  with  instancing  a  common  fabulous  notion  of  the  sun  retiring 
to  rest  in  the  sea,  and  there  spending  the  night  in  the  indulgence  of  the 
passions.    This,  he  says,  is  so  familiar  an  idea  to  the  Hebrews,  that  it  oc- 
curs even  in  prose.    The  setting  |iun  is  called  MD  (to  enter  or  come  in) 
and  the  moon  tpnai  (to  be  received  as  a  guest.)    In  the  xixth  Psalm,  how- 
ever, the  fiction  is  expressed  in  still  bolder  terms ; 
**  For  he  hath  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  sun, 
**  Who  cometh  forth  as  a  bridegroom  from  his  chamber, 
**  And  rejoiceth  as  a  strong  man  to  ran  a  race.** 

Nor  is  the  description  of  the  Atlantic  very  far  distant  fiom  this  idea, 
PsauK.  cxxziz.  9. 

**  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 

**  And  dweU  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea ; 

^  Even  thefe  thy  hand  shall  lead  me, 

"  And  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me." 
The  resemblance  between  this  image  and  the  fable  of  Aurora,  who  was  sup- 
paeed  to  retire  to  rest  to  the  borders  of  the  ocean,  and  there  enter  the  cham- 


\ 


m  P6ETIC  IMAGERT  TRORt  Lmtr.i. 

ber  of  l*lt]iomu,  can  scarcely  ful  to  str^  cfvery  claaiod  reader.  There 
is  this  dJfTerence,  howeyer,  between  the  Greek  and  Hebrew  fictions.  Wltli 
the  latter  the  "  Sun  runs  his  race,"  and  Aurora  is  depicted  with  wings ; 
with  the  f>nner,  who  perliaps  might  imitate  the  Persian  manner  in  the  de«- 
criptioOf  the  Sun  has  a  chariot  and  horsetf,  Which  do  not  octur  in  the  He- 
brew poets,  though  they  are  mentioned  as  appendages  to  the  idol  of  the 
^un  (2  kiHOB  zxiii.  II.) 

The  profesior  faext  obsei^es»  thit  tiie  Greek  ahd  Latin  poMfe  assigned  tft 
their  Jupiter  a  eka/Hmt  and  horses  of  thunder,  probably  from  the  'resem- 
blance between  the  noise  of  a  chariot  and  that  of  thunder.  The  Hebrews, 
he  remarks,  have  a  similar  fable ;  and  the  ChenMm  are  expressly  the  hors- 
es of  Jshoyah's  chariot.  He  refers  to  a  ^inertatimi  on  this  subject  pi^ 
lished  by  himself  in  the  Gomsexir  Mixoias,  T.  L  p.  157—189.  He  re- 
minds his  readers  of  the  common  but  truly  poetical  expression,  **  Jxbotak 
^  of  IIosu,**  and  how  frequently  he  is  described  as  *<  sitting  upon  the  Cher- 
**  ubim,"  PsALX  xcix.  1. 

*'  Jbbotab  rngnethy  let  the  people  tremble  i 
**  He  sitteth  on  the  Cherubim,  let  the  earth  be  moved." 
fti  plain  hmgnage  he  thonden^  k>  tlwt  theeirth  thakei>«r  is  Haraee  woteld 
iaTc  eipretoed  it : 

^  JiHOTAli  per  boelum  tonantes, 

'*  Egit  eqdos,  volucremque  cumim : 
**  Quo  bruta  tellus,  &  vaga  flumina,  ^ 

**  Quo  Styx,  &  invisi  horrida  Txnari 
''  Sedes,  Atlanteusque  iinia 

•*  Concutitur." 
<<  JxHOYAB  Lord  of  an  above, 
**  Late  through  the  floating  fields  of  air, 
"  The  face  of  heaven,  serene  and  fair, 

**  His  thundering  steeds  and  winged  chariot  drove  ; 
*'  When  at  the  bursting  of  his  flames, 
**  The  ponderous  earth,  and  vag^rant  streams, 

*'  Infernal  Styx,  the  dire  abode  ' 
"  Of  hateful  Taenarus  profound, 
«  And  Atlas  to  his  utmost  bound, 
«*  Trembled  beneath  the  terrors  of  the  God." 

FBAircis*s  iTor.  B.  L  v.  34. 
The  expression  is  still  bolder  in  Psalx  Isviii.  17.  and  the  same  idea  is  in- 
troduced with  superior  elegance  in  the  Ixvth,  where  God  is  described  as 
visiting  the  earth,  and  dispensing  Iktness  and  plenty.  He  rdPers  also  to 
PsAUi.  xviiL  10.  civ.  3,  4.  and  to  Habak.  liL  8.  He  shews  that  this  has 
not  only  been  a  common  fiction  with  Uie  Greeks  and  Romans,  btlt  even 
with  the  Swedes,  and  other  Northern  nations.  He  remarks  the  admirable 
use  which  Milton  has  made  of  it,  as  well  as  of  other  poetical  fictions  appli- 
ed to  sacred  subjects. 


Lbct.9.  the  sacred  history.  139 

Another  fable,  which  our  commentator  points  out  as  common  to  the  He- 
brews with  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  erLdently  derived  from  the  same 
aoorce,  is  the  fiction  of  a  golden  age.  To  this  purpose  he  cites  the  three 
prophecies  of  Isaiah,  in  which  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah  is  described,  in 
almost  the  same  colours  as  Virgil  depicts  the  happy  state  of  Rome  under 
Augustus. 

He  proceeds  in  the  third  place  to  point  out  the  resemblance  between  the 
poetic  descriptions  of  a  future  state,  which  are  furnished  by  the  Hebrew 
poets,  and  those  of  the  Greeks.  He  is  of  an  opmion,  contrary  to  that  of 
many  learned  men,  who  have  attributed  them  to  theCelts,that  the  Greeks  were 
altogether  indebted  to  Bgypt  for  their  descriptions.  He  quotes  Josephus, 
who,  speaking  of  the  Essenes,  a  people  who  as  to  country,  philosophy, 
c^inions,  discipline,  were  more  Egyptian  than  Jewish,  adds,  **  that  in  this 
"  respect  they  resemble  the  Greeks,  namely,  in  asserting  that  the  good 
**  shall  enjoy  another  life,  in  a  pleasant  situation  beyond  the  ocean,  free 
"  from  storms,  tempests,  and  all  excesses  of  cold  or  heat,  and  which  is 
^  constantly  refreshed  by  a  delightful  breeze  springing  from  the  ocean.**-^ 
**  The  Greeks,  in  the  same  manner,"  he  observes,  "  have  assigned  to  their 
**  heroes  and  demigods,  the  happiness  of  Elysium.**  The  opinion  of  the 
Bramins  is  similar,  who,  the  professor  asserts,  have  borrowed  all  their 
manners  and  philosophy  from  the  Egyptians  as  well  as  the  Gauls,  the 
Greeks,  &c.  &c.  He  thinks  this  hypothesis  is  clearly  demonstrated  by  the 
analogy  between  these  opinions  and  the  rites  or  ceremonies  of  sepulture 
among  the  Egyptians.  Buto,  the  Egyptian  goddess,  who  presided  over 
the  dead,  had  a  temple  built  upon  some  floating  islands  in  the  Butic  lake. 
To  this  the  Greeks  are,  by  their  own  confession,  indebted  for  their  fable  of 
Charon,  he  for  on  the  day  appointed  for  burial,  the  name  of  the  deceased 
being  announced,  certain  judges  were  convened  at  the  lake,  where  a  boat 
was  ready ;  the  pilot  of  which,  in  the  Egyptian  language,  was  called  Cha^ 
ron.  Before  the  deceased  was  put  on  board,  full  liberty  was  given  to  all 
present  of  accusing  him.  But  if  ho  accuser  was  present,  or  if  his  accusa- 
tion was  proved  groundless,  the  body  was  put  into  the  boat,  and  carried  across 
the  lake  to  the  sepulchral  fields  (Dion.  Sic.  L.  L  c.9S.)  The  sepulchres  of 
their  kings  also  were  situated  on  islands  formed  by  art,  by  admitting  the 
water  of  the  Nile,  as  Hsbodotus  testifies  (L.  ii.  c.  124.) 

Moses,  therefore,  being  educated  among  them,  and  initiated  in  their 
hieroglyphic  learning,  to  which  the  Grecian  mythology  is  under  so  many 
obligations,  seems  to  allude  to  the  fable  of  Elysium  (or  the  blessed  isles) 
when  in  that  beautiful  poem,  which  constitutes  the  xcth  Psauc,  at  the  10th 
verse,  he  thus  expresses  himself : 

**  The  strength  of  our  years  is  labour  and  soxrow, 
*'  It  passeth  over  quickly,  and  we^. 

**  The  words  we  j^,  if  1  am  not  mistaken,"  adds  the  professor,  *'  might 
**  be  rendered,  ws  iet  §ail,  since  there  is  sometliing  alike  in  the  actions  of 
"  sailing  and  flying,  and  the  one  is  frequently  made  use  of  poetically  for 
« the  other." 

17 


ISO  POETIC  IMAGERY  FROM  Lect.  9. 

There  is  another  passage  of  Moses,  which,  contrarv  to  the  opinion  of  all 
the  commentators,  M.  Michaelis  observes,  seems  to  have  been  understood 
by  St  Paul  alone,  in  the  sense  he  speaks  of,  namely,  the  words  "  beyond 
"  the  sea,"  as  alluding  to  the  sepulchre,  or  Elysium  fields.     Moses  is  ad- 
dressing the  Israelites,  not  as  a  poet,  indeed,  but  as  an  orator,  concerning 
•«  the  circumcision  of  the  heart,**  of  which  the  common  rite  was  only  an 
emblem  or  a  type.     The  law^  says  he,  vhick  I  command  thee  thi%  dtuf  ie  not 
hidJenfrom  thee,  &c.    It  i»  not  in  heaven,  that  thou  thouldett  tay,  fFho  thaU 
go  up  for  U9  to  heaven,  and  bring  it  down  to  U9  T   Neither  it  it  beto^o  tbs 
SKA,  that  thou  ohouldett  oojfy   HHto  viUgo  over  the  tea  for  ut  ?  &c.     (Dkut. 
XXX.  11,  12,  13)     St.  Paul,  after  quoting  these  words,  adds,    FFho  ohaO. 
descend  into  the  deep  ?   that  is,  to  bnng  up  Chriot  aguin  from  the  dead. 
The  professor  acknowledges  that  these  words  created  him  no  small  diffi* 
culty,  before  he  could  perceive  their  agreement  with  the  original :  until 
one  of  his  auditors  remarked,  that  *<  Moses  might  probably  allude  to  the 
■*  custom  of  the  Blgyptians,  who  buried  their  dead  on  the  other  side  of  a 
*'  lake,*'  &c.    This  sentiment,  he  says,  struck  him  so  forcibly,  that  he  im* 
mediately  adopted  it»  and  in  consequence  of  it,  oiTers  the  following  para«- 
phrase  of  the  passage  already  quoted.     **  The  precept"   (says  Moses) 
**  which  I  now  inculcate"  (namely,  that  of  loving  and  worshipping  the  one 
true  God,  which  is  the  real  circumcision  of  the  heart)  *'  is  unlike  some  of 
**  my  precepts»  which  have  a  mystical  meaning,  not  easily  understood» 
**  There  is  no  need  that  some  person  of  uncommon  learning  should  come 
"  down  from  heaven  to  instruct  you  in  it :  no  need  that  some  person  should 
*^  cross  the  lake  to  the  Itlet  of  the  Bleooedf  to  learn  from  the  dead  what 
**  this  obscure  precept  conceals.    All  is  easy  and  obvious,"  &c. 
Our  annotator  next  refers  to  a  passage  in  Job,  ch.  iz.  25  and  26. 
**  My  days  are  swifter  than  a  courier, 
**  They  flee  away,  they  see  no  pleasure : 
*'  They  are  passed  away  with  the  swift  ships» 
*'  As  an  eagle  rushing  on  hb  prey." 
This  he  allows  might  have  been  said,  without  any  allusion  to  the  loUe  of 
the  Bleooedf  or  Elysium,  though  the  picture  is  more  striking  if  taken  in 
that  view ;  but  he  thinks  the  allusion  is  clear  beyond  a  doubt  if  we  regard 
the  answer  of  Zophar,  ch.  zL  16, 17, 18. 

••  Thou  shalt  forget  thy  misery, 
**  Or  remember  it  as  waters  passed  away ; 
"  And  after  the  noon-tide  thy  age  shall  be  happier, 
"  Tliou  shalt  fly,  (^or  tail  J  it  shall  be  momi  g.' 
"  Thou  shait  be  secure  because  there  is  hope ; 
"  Thou  shJt  dig  fthf  eepulchrej  and  calmly  lie  down." 
If  any  one  should  doubt  of  these  examples,  he  thinks  there  is  one  still 
clearer  in  ch.  xxiv.  18 — ^21. 

'*  He  is  light  upon  the  waters  : 

"  His  portion  in  the  earth  is  ciu'sed. 

"  He  shall  not  behold  the  way  of  the  vineyards,"  &c. 


Lx€T,9;         ^      THE  SACRED  HISTOHY.  131 

**  That  is,**  u  he  explains  it,  ^  The  wicked  shall  be  carried  down  the  rap- 
**  id  stream  of  Acheron,  and  shall  have  their  portion  in  a  land  which  is 
**  accorsed.  It  shall  not  be  permitted  them  to  enter  into  the  gardens  of 
« the  blessed."* 

The  learned  professor  is  of  opinion,  that  even  the  infernal  rivers  were 
not  unknown  to  the  Hebrews,  and  that  they  are  mentioned  in  the  zxiiid 
Psalm  under  the  name  of  tlie  rivers  of  BeUaL  He  thinks  it  not  fair  to  in* 
tevpret  Bekial  in  lliis  place  Satau^  into  whose  power  Bavid  was  not  appre- 
hensive of  falling,  though  he  complains  that  the  «narr*  of  deiUh  fell  upon 
him,  ver.  4,  5,  6.  It  is  rather,  he  asserts,  derived  from  the  negative  particle 
heh  (noa)  and  jagual  (altus  f  uit)  that  is,  not  fdgk^  or  estimable ;  whence 
men  of  BeUal  are  the  vilest  of  men  ;  and  tlie  rivers  of  Belial^  the  rivers  of 
hell.    The  following  lines  in  this  sense  are  truly  poetical : 

**  Distracted  with  evils,  1  called  upon  God ; 

"  I  am  saved  from  ray  enemies. 

**  The  snares  of  death  were  spread  over  my  soul  i 

«  The  floods  of  hell  made  me  afraid ; 

"  The  waters  of  Tartarus  encompassed  me,"  &c.    M. 

There  is  sonething  so  infeniom  in  the  above  observations,  that  I  could 
not  help  «zhibiting  a  slight  sketch  of  them  to  the  reader ;  but,  as  (^before 
iBtimated,  many  of  them  are  too  fanciful  to  challenge  any  serious  atten- 
tkm.  It  IS  impossible,  for  instsnoe,  to  ftid  the  smallest  allusion  in  the 
passage  irom  Psai.  czxxiz.  9,  to  any  fable  similar  to  that  of  Aurora  and- 
Tlthonus.— I  sm,  on  the  contrary,  inclined  to  believe,  that  nothing  more  is 
meant  by  the  imng»  tf  the  mortdnff,  than  an  allusion  to  the  swift  and  fleet- 
ing nature  of  time,  and  particularly  the  pleasant  and  jocund  hours  of 
morning ;  and  the  poet  only  means  to  say,  '*  Had  I  the  swiftness  of  time, 
**  and  could  transport  myself  in  a  few  hours  to  the  boundaries  of  the  ocean, 
**  even  there,"  &c.  If  one  were  even  inclined  to  admit  his  hypothesis  con- 
cerning the  eherubitHt  I  see  no  occasion  to  suppose  them  to  have  any  kind 
of  relation  to  the  chariot  or  horses  of  the  heathen  Jtjfitsb.  The  only  po- 
etical idea,  under  which  the  great  Governor  of  the  universe  can  be  depict- 
ed, is  that  of  a  powerful  monarch  ;  and  under  this  idea  it  is  as  natural  for 
the  Hebrew  poets  to  assign  him  a  chariot  and  other  insignia  of  royalty,  as 
for  the  Gre^s  t  and  this  they  may  do  without  having  the  slightest  con- 
nexion with  each  other,  or  without  any  necessity  of  studying  in  the  Egyp- 
tian  school.  The  supposition  that  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah,  relating  to 
the  time  of  the  Messiah's  appearing,  are  borrowed  from  the  fables  con- 
cerning the  Golden  age,  is  still  more  improbable.  The  prophet,  in  those 
passages,  is  describing  a  state  of  temporal  happiness ;  such  is  the  intention 
of  those  poets  who  have  celebrated  the  Golden  age;  and  is  it  any  thing 
extraordinary  that  some  similar  ideas  occur  upon  a  subject  perfectly  simi- 
lar, and  one  of  so  general  a  nature  ?  The  arguments  of  our  annotator  to 
prove  that  the  Greeks  were  indebted  to  Egypt  for  their  notions  of  a  future, 
state,  demonstraie  much  learning  and  ingenuity,  and  are,  I  confess,  satis- 
&ctory  and  convincing  to  me :   But  when  he  endeavours  to  find  the  same 


133  POETIC  IMAGERY,  Sec.  Lbct.9. 

notions  in  the  Hebrew  poets,  the  reader  will,  |  think,  ftg^ree  with  me,  that 
he  is  altogether  visionary,  and  strains  violently  a  few  general  expressions 
to  adapt  them  to  his  particular  purpose.  I  must  add,  that  his  Latin  trans- 
lations of  those  passs^s  of  Scripture,  which  I  thought  myself  in  89010 
measure  obliged  to  follow  in  delivering  his  sentiments,  are  by  no  means  so 
faithful  to  the  original  as  our  common  version,  and  yet  on  these  depends 
the  principal  force  of  his  argument.    T. 

The  vdngaofthe  mornings  I  believe,  stripped  of  their  imagery,  are  th» 
beam»  of  the  rieing  tun.     Wing»  are  attributed  to  the  moon  by  Maniliua : 

**  Ultima  ad  Hesperios  infectis  volveris  alis  :** 
and,  if  my  memory  fail  me  not,  in  the  hymn  ascribed  to  Homer,  etc  tskmm» 

Instead  also  of  referring  to  those  imaginary  I»k»  of  the  Ble»»ed,  which 
the  Professor  thinks  are  alluded  to  by  Moses,  it  seems  far  more  probable 
that  he  had  a  retrospect  to  the  place  where  the  wicked  after  death  were 
supposed  to  be  confined ;  and  which,  from  the  destruction  of  the  old 
world  by  the  deluge,  the  covering  of  the  Asphaltic  vale  with  the  Dead  Sea, 
&c.  was  believed  to  be  situated  wMfor  the  -water».  To  this  idea  there  are 
allusions  in  the  sacred  writings  without  number.  See  the  second  com* 
mand  in  the  Decalogue,  Job  zzvi.  5,  6.  and  many  passages  in  the  Psalms 
and  the*  Prophets.— The  stoiy  in  the  Gospel  of  the  daemon  entering  the 
herd  of  swine,  and  urging  them  into  the  «eo,  which  in  the  Sxrruaoiirv 
version  of  Job  zli.  is  styled  tw  TAFTAION  yw  A(i«v%  the  Tartarus  ofth$ 
^u.    9.  H. 


LECTURE  X. 

OF  AIUSGORT. 

Three  Ibrms  of  Allegory :  1.  Continued  Metaphor ;  which  it  scireely 
worth  distinguishing  from  the  simple  Metaphor— The  freedom  of  the 
Hehrewa  in  confounding  the  forms  of  the  Metaphor,  AUegoiyy  and 
Comparison  :  a  more  perfect  form  also  of  Allegory  instanced— 3.  The 
Parable  ;  and  its  principal  characteristics  :  that  it  oiif^t  to  be  formed 
from  an  apt  and  well-known  image»  the  signification  of  which  b  obTious 
and  definite  ;  also  from  one  which  is  elegant  and  beautiful ;  that  its 
parts  and  adjuncts  be  perspicuous»  and  conduce  to  the  main  object  t 
that  it  be  consistent,  and  must  not  confound  the  literal  and  figurative 
meaning»— The  Parables  of  the  Prophets,  and  particularly  of  Exekiel* 
f^apiinM  accordingfto  this  standard. 

Another  branch  of  the  Mashal^  or  figurative  style, 
is  Allegory,  that  is,  a  figure  which,  under  the  literal 
sense  cf  the  words,  conceals  a  foreign  or  distant  mean- 
ing.^ Three  forms  of  allegory  may  be  observed  in  the 
sacred  poetry*  The  first  is  that  which  is  commonly 
treated  of  by  rhetoricians,  a  continuation  of  metaphor. 
"  When  several  kindred  metaphors  succeed  one  anoth*  * 
^*  er,  they  alter,''  says  Cicero,  '^  the  form  of  a  composi- 

1  The  allegoricfd  seems  to  be  one  of  the  first  modes  of  composition  a- 
dopted  by  nations  emerging  from  barbarism.  Indeed  it  is  only  calculated 
to  interest  those  who  have  made  little  progress  in  intellectual  pursuits.  ^  ^ 
It  is  a  mere  play  of  the  fancy»  and  such  as  requires  not  enough  of  exertion  /  ^ 
to  occupy  those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the  exercises  of  reasons 
This  remark,  howeTer,  must  not  be  extended  to  the  exclusion  of  allegor- 
ical expressipps  or  passages  from  poetry :  but  is  meant  only  to  be  applied 
to  compositions  purely  allegorical,  such  as  Spisssb's  Fairy  Qutfen,  which, 
notwithstanding  some  incomparably  poetical  passages,  find»  few  readerf  ii^ 
t|)e  present  age.  T. 


134  ALLEGORY.  Lect.  10. 

^^  tion ;  for  which  reason  a  succession  of  this  kind  is 
**  called  by  the  Greeks  an  AUegory ;  and  properly,  in 
•*  respect  to  the  etymology  of  the  word  ;  but  Aristotle, 
'*  instead  of  considering  it  as  a  new  species  of  figure, 
**  has  more  judiciously  comprized  such  modes  of  ex- 
**  pression  under  xht  general  appellation  of  metaphors.'" 
I  therefore  scarcely  esteem  it  worth  while  to  dweU  upon 
this  species  of  allegory ;  since  hitherto  I  have  made  no 
distinction  between  it  and  the  simple 'metaphor:  for 
many  of  the  examples,  wtuch  I  produced  as  metaphors, 
are  probably  of  this  class:  the  principle  of  each  is  the 
same,  nor  indeed  would  it  be  an  easy  matter  to  restrict 
each  to  its  proper  limits,  or  to  define  where  the  one 
ends  or  the  other  be^ns. 

It  will  not,  however,  be  foreign  to  our  purpose  to  re- 
mark the  peculiar  manner,  in  which  the  Hebrew  poets 
use  the  congenial  figures,  metaphor,  allegory,  and  com- 
parison, and  particularly  in  the  prophetic  poetry.  When 
they  undertake  to  express  any  sentiment  in  ornamented 
language,  they  not  only  illustrate  it  with  an  abundance 
and  variety  of  imagery,  but  they  seldom  temper  or  reg- 
ulate this  imagery  by  any  fixed  principle  or  standard. 
Unsatisfied  with  a  simple  metaphor,  they  frequently  run 
it  into  an  allegory,  or  mingle  with  it  a  direct  comparison. 
The  allegory  sometimes  precedes  and  sometimes  fol* 
lows  the  simile ;  to  this  is  added  a  frequent  change  of 
imagery,  and  even  of  persons  and  tenses ;  through  the 
whole  displaying  a  degree  of  boldness  and  freedom,  un- 
confined  by  rule  or  method,  altogether  peculiar  to  the 
Hebrew  poetry. 

^  Judah  is  a  lion's  whelp  :*'s 
This  metaphor  is  immediately  drawn  out  into  an  allego- 
ry, with  a  change  of  person : 

*  Orator,  3  Gkt.  xlix.  9. 


LscT.  let  ALLEOORt.  135 

^  From  the  prej,  mf  «on,  thou  art  gone  vp ;" 

(to  the  dens  in  the  mountains  understood :)  fn  the  suc- 
ceeding sentences  the  person  is  again  changed,  the  im* 
age  is  gradually  advanced,  and  the  metaphor  b  joined 
with  a  comparison,  which  is  repeated : 

^  He  stoopeth  down,  he  coocbeth,  as  a  lion  ; 

M  And  as  a  lioness  ^  who  shall  rouse  hioi  V* 

Of  a  similar  nature  is  that  remarkable  prophecy,  in  which 
the  exuberant  increase  of  the  gospel  on  its  first  dissemi- 
nation is  most  explicitly  foretold.  In  this  passage,  how* 
ever,  the  mixture  oS  the  metaphor  and  comparison,  as 
well  as  the  ellipsis  of  the  word  to  be  repcfated,  creates  a 
degree  of  obscurity : 

K  Beyond  the  womb  of  the  morning  is  the  dew  of  thy  offspring  to 
thee:"* 

That  is,  "  preferable  to  the  dew  which  proceeds  from 
"  the  womb  of  the  morning ;  more  copious,  more 
**  abundant. '*'     In  the  interpretation  of  this  passage, 

4  Psalm  ex.  3. 

'  Some  of  the  more  modem  translators  seem  at  length  agreed,  that  this 
is  the  proper  sense  of  the;  passage ;  none  of  them,  however»  as  far  as  I  havo 
been  able  to  judge»  has  hitherto  actually  explained  it  at  length.  I  shall» 
therefore»  take  advantage  of  this  oppckrtunity  to  give  my  sentiments  upon 
H»  last  doubts  should  afterwards  arise  concerning  the  meaning  of  a  very 
important»  and  (as  I  think)  a  very  clear  passage  of  holy  writ.  The  prin- 
c^ud  difficulty  proceeds  from  the  word  me<4*acAain,  and  from  the  ambiguity 
•f  the  particle  D  and  the  ellipsis  of  the  word  tal :  which»  I  think»  will  be 
wadily  cleared  up,  if  we  attend  to  the  following  examples»  the  nature  and 
neaning  of  which  is  evidently  similar.    Psalm  iv.  8. 

**  Thou  hast  excited  joy  in  my  heart» 

**  Beyond  the  time  m  which  their  com  and  wine  increased :" 
That  is»  «  beyoad  (or  superior  to)  the  joy  of  that  time."    Isai.  x.  10. 

<*  Although  their  shrines  are  b^ore  Jerusalem  and  Samaria :" 
That  is»  **  excel  the  shrines  of  Jerusalem  and  Samaria."  Job  xxxv.  % 
**  My  justice  before  God  ."  that  is»  "  My  justice  is  grater  than  the  justice 
**  «f  God :"  (compare  xxxii.  3.  and  xl.  8.)  In  the  same  manner  me-racham^ 
"  before  the  womb/*  is  the  same  as  me- tal  racham,  *'  before  the  dew  of  the 
^  womb»**    Nor  are  there  wanting  in  the  Greeks  examples  of  similar  ellips- 


131  ALLEGORY.  Lbct.  10. 

whsit  monstrous  blunders  has  an  ignorance  of  the  Hebrew 
idiotn  produced ! 

There  is,  indeed,  a  certain  form,  which  this  kind  of 
allegory  sometimes  assumes,  more  perfect  and  regular, 
which  therefore  ought  not  to  be  overlooked,  and  that  is» 
when  it  occupies  the  whole  compass  and  argument  of 
the  composition.  An  excellent  example  of  this  may  be 
seen  in  that  well-known  allegory  of  Solomon,^  in  which 
old  age  is  so  admirably  depicted.  The  inconveniences 
of  increasing  years,  the  debility  of  mind  and  body,  the 
torpor  of  the  senses,  are  expressed,  most  learnedly  and 
elegantly  indeed,  but  with  some  degree  of  obscurity,  by 
different  images  derived  from  nature  and  common  life : 
for  by  this  enigmatical  composition,  Solomon,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Oriental  sages,  meant  to  put  to  trial  the 
acuteness  of  his  readers.  It  has  on  this,  account  afford- 
ed much  exercise  to  the  ingenuity  of  the  learned,  many 
of  whom  have  differently,  it  is  true,  but  with  much 
learning  and  sagacity,  explained  the  passage. 

es :  Mtit  Oku/tartac  «ycif»  ftftltpn  au^emfor  **  Neither  can  we  celebrate  a  con- 
**  test  more  noble  than  it  that  of  Oiympia :"  fe«ff  rv  Okofuruaut  aytmt  ^Uftn 
^xlioMh    FiiTD.  Oxv/tT.  A.  ▼.  11.  &  SchoL  Edit.  Oxon. 

Ac  M  Keatmnx  rm  ^pvytn  /uun  m>j(  t 
**  As  if  the  city  of  the  Lacedemonians  were  smaller  than  that  of  the 
Phrygians."        Eurip.  ^ndrom,  t.  193. 
The  metaphor  taken  from  the  dew  is  expresive  of  fecundity,  plenty» 
multitude  :  (compare  2  Sax.  xvii.  11,  12.  Mic.  v.  7.)    "  A  numerous  oflT- 
'*  spring  shall  be  bom  unto  thee,  and  a  numerous  offspring  it  shall  produce." 
Jaladecha,  "  thy  youth,"  or  **  the  youth  tliat  are  produced  from  thee  ;'* 
«the  abstract  for  the  concrete,  as  Shebahf  "  whiteness,"  or  being  grey-head- 
ed, for  a  grey-headed  man.  Lev.  xix.  32.     Shelrif  "  captivity,"  for  a  cap- 
tive, IsAi.  xlix.  24.  and  so  the  Chaldee  interpreter  takes  the  following, 
TDTVin  \VTrr\b  pan*,  "  Thy  ofTsprmg  shall  sit  (or  remain)  in  confidence." 

Anthot^f  JVbte. 
•  EccLvs.  xii.  2~^.    Concerning  this  passage,  consult  the  learned  com- 
mentary of  that  excellent  physician  of  the  last  century  Dr.  John  Sxitbu 
See  also  what  has  been  lately  advanced  on  the  same  subject  by  the  first 
physician  of  Uiis  age.  Dr.  R.  Mead,  in  his  Medica  S^cra.    niuihgrU  Mte. 


LfttT.  10.  ALLEGORV.  187 

There  is  also  in  tsaiah  an  allegoiy,  which,  widi  no 
less  elegance  of  imagery,  is  more  simple  and  regular, 
more  just  and  complete  in  the  form  and  colouring :  I 
shall,  therefore,  quote  the  whde  passage/  llie  prophet 
is  explaining  the  design  and  manner  of  the  divine  judge* 
ments :  he  is  inculcating  the  principle,  that  God  adopts 
different  modes  of  acting  in  the  chastisement  of  the 
wicked,  but  that  the  most  perfect  wisdom  is  conspicu- 
ous in  all ;  that  **  he  will,"  as  he  had  urged  before, 
*'  exact  judgement  by  the  line,  and  righteousness  by 
the  plummet  ;'^  that  he  ponders  with  the  most  minute 
attention  the  distinctions  of  times,  characters,  and  cir- 
cumstances ;  all  the  motives  to  lenity  or  severity*  AU 
this  is  expressed  in  a  continued  aU^cny,  the  imagery 
of  which  is  tajcen  from  agriculture  and  threshing :  the 
use  and  suitableness  of  which  imagery,  as  in  a  manner 
consecrated  to  this  subject,  I  have  formerly  explained, 
so  that  there  is  no  need  of  further  detail  at  present. 

<«  Listen  ye  and  hear  my  Toice  ; 

«  Attend  and  hearken  unto  my  words. 

«  Doth  the  husbandman  plottgh  erery  day  that  he  may  sow, 

•  Openkigy  and  breaking  the  clods  of  his  field  I 

^  When  he  hath  made  even  the  face  thereof ; 

M  Doth  he  not  then  scatter  the  dill,  and  east  abroad  the  cummin  i 

^  And  sow  the  wheat  in  due  measure  ; 

<*  And  the  barley,  and  the  rye,  bath  its  appobted  limit  ? 

^  For  his  God  rightly  instructeth  him  ;    he  fumisheth  him  with 

^  knowledge. 
A  The  dill  is  not  beaten  out  with  the  corn-drag  ; 
«  Nor  is  the  wheel  of  the  wain  made  to  turn  upon  the  cummin : 
»  But  the  dill  is  beaten  out  with  the  suflT; 
^  And  the  cummin  with  the  flail :  but  the  bread<om*  with  the 

«  threshing-wain. 

7  IsiU.  xxTiiL  23^29.  •  Ibai.  zxviii.  17. 

9  prr  onb]  I  luTe  amiexed  these  to  the  preceding,  disregsrding  the 
ICuareticdifttnict'Kms  in  thu  I  follow  the  LXX  (though  they  have  fktstly 
18 


us  ALLEGORY.  Lbct.  10. 

«  But  ^ot  forever  vijW  Ue  continue  thus  to  threth.it ; 

"  Nor  to  vex  it  wiili  the  wheel  of  his  wain  ; 

"  Nor  to  bruise  it  with  the  lioofs  of  his  cattle. 

"  This  aUo  proteedeth  from  Jehovah  God  of  hosts  ; 

«^  Hie  showeth  himself  wonderful  in  counsel,  great  in  operation/'!»* 

*  Another  kind  of  allegory  is  that,  wHich,  in  the  proper 

and  restricted  sense,  may  be  called  paraMe,  and  consists 

mistaken  the  sense)  aiul  Stmmachuh  :  1  suspect 'also  that  the  T  before  DH^ 
ha»  tieeh  obliterated »  which  Bixmachus  expressed  by  the  particle  it,  the 
YuLoATS  by  auiem.  The  translation  wiU. sufficiently  explain  my  reasons. 
LccHKM,  howover,  seems  to  be  taken  for  com,  Psal.  cir.  14.  and  Ecclu. 
xl.  1.  **Cai9t  thy  brcaCd,'*  that'is,  •'  sow  thy  seed  op  com,  upon  the  face  of 
the  waters  :'*  la  plain  terms,  sow  Without  any  hope  of  a  harvest :  do  good 
to.  them  on  whom  you  even  tliink-yonr  benefaction  thrown  away.  A  pre- 
cept'enforclng'  g^eat  and  disinterested  liberality,  with  a  promise  annexed 
to  it ;  '*  for  after  many  days  tfioo  Ahalt  find  it  agnin  t**  at  length,  if  not  is 
the  preaait  world,  at  least  in  a  future  thou  shalt  have  a  reward.  The  leam« 
ed  Or.  Gsoa&x  Jvdb,  the  gentleman  alluded  to  in  page  86,  suggested  this 
explanation,  which  he  has  elegantly  Illustrated  fi'Om  Theognis  and  Phocy- 
lides,  who  intimate  that  to  do  atfts  of  kindness  to  the  ungrateful  and  mu 
worthy,  is  the  same  as  sowing  the  aea  ^ 

Vain  are  the  favours  done  to  vicious  men. 

Not  vainer  'tis  to  sow  the  foaming  deep  ; 

The  deep  no  pleasant  harvest  shall  afford. 

Nor  will  the  wicked  ever  make  return.        Tnaoa.  iVo^  v.  105. 

To  befiiend  the  wicked  is  like  sowing  in  the  sea.  Piioora.  v.  I4I. 
These,  indeed,  invert  the  pfecf^pt  of  Solomon  ;  nor  is  it  extraordinary  that 
tliey  should  : 

The  one,  frail  human  power  alone  produced  s 

The  other,  God.  JIuthor'M  JV0I& 

to  «  Four  methods  of  threshing  are  here  mentioned,  by  different  instru. 
«*  menls ;  the  flail,  tlie  drag,  the  wain,  and  the  ti-eading  of  the  cattle.  The 
*<  stafi'  or  flail  was  used  for  the  grain  that  was  too  tender  to  be  treated  in 
"  tlic  otiier  methods.  The  drag  consisted  of  a.  sort  of  frame  of  strong 
*'  planks,  made  rough  at  the  bottom  with  hard  stone  or  iron  :  it  was  drawn 
**  by  horses,  or  oxen  over  the  com-sheaves  spread  on  the  floor,  the  drivers 
'*  sitting  upon  it.  The  wain  was  much  like  the  former,  but  had  wheels 
'*  with  iron  teeth,  or  edges,  like  a  saw  i  and  it  should  seem  that  the  axle 
**  was  armed  with  iron  teeth  or  serrated  wlieels  tliroug^out.  The  drag  not 
"  only  forced  out  the  grain,  but  cut  the  straw  in  pieces  for  fodder  for  the 
•«  cattle  ;  for  in  the  Ejwtem  countries  they  have  no  hay.  The  last  method 
"  is  well  known  from  the  law  of  Moses,  which  •  forbids  the  ox  to  be  muz 
«•  zled,  when  he  treadeth  out  the  com/*»  Jfitft^p  Lowra's  lioiah,  ^ote9, 
ch.  xjstiit.  V.  27,  28. 


X.BCT.  10.  ALLEGORY.  1S9 

'  of  a  continued  narration  of  a  fictitious  event,  applied  by   ^^ 
way  of  simile  to  the  illustration  of  some  important  truth. 
The  Greeks  call  these  allegories,  outm  (or  apnhgues^^ 
Latins  y&^fi/iT  (or  fables :)  «and  the  writings  of  the  Phry* 
gian  sage,  or  those  composed  in  imitation  of  him,  Have 
acquired  the  greatest  celebrity.    <}4or  has  Mtr  Saviour 
himself  disdained  to  adopt  the  same  method  of  instruc- 
tion, of  whose  parables  it  is  d^ibtful,  whether  they  ei^ 
eel  most  in  wisdom  and  utility,  or  in  sweetnesfe,  ele- 
gance, and  perspicuity.     I  must  observe,*  that  thei^ppeU 
lation  of  parable  having  been  applied  to  his  discourses 
of  this  kind,  the  term  is  now  restricted  from  its  former 
extensive  signification  to  a  more  confined  scns^.     This 
species  of  composition  occurs  ver}'  frequently  in  the  pro- 
phetic poetry,  arid  particularly  in  that  of  Ezekiel.     But 
to  enable  us  to  judge  with  more  certainty  tipon  the  sub- 
ject, it  will  be  necessary  to  explain  in  a  few  words  some 
of  the  primary  qualities  of  the  poetic  parables,  that,  by 
considering  the  general  nature  of  them,  we  may  decide 
more  accurately  on  the  merits  of  particular  examples.  ' 
It  is  the  first  excellence  of  a  paret^ile  to  tum^upon'an 
l^age  well  tno^  and  applicable  to  the  subject,  the 
meaning  of  which  is  clear  and  definite  ;  for  this  circum^ 
stance  will  give  it  perspicuity j  which  is  esseiitialto  eye» 
ry  species  of  allegory.     If,  therefore,  by  this  rule  wc 
examine  the  parables  of  the  sacred  prophets;  w^  sfaaU,!! 
am  persuaded,  find  them  not  in  the  least  deficient.    They 
are  in  general  founded  upon  such  imagery  as  is  frequpnt- 
ly  used,  and  similarly  applied  by  way.  of  metaphor  an<i 
comparison  ip  the  Hebrew  poetry.     Most  accurate  ex'^ 
amples  of  this  are  to  be  found  in  the  i)arable  of  the  de-*" 
ceitful  vineyard,**  of  the  useless  vine,**  which  isgivento 
the  fire;    for  under  this  imagery  the  ungrateful  people 

%\  l9A|,  V.  l-^r.  n  Eaii^.  XV.  nnd  xlx.  10—14. 


140  ALLEGORY.  Lact.  10« 

of  God  ax€  more  than  once  described.  I  may  instance 
also  that  of  the  lion's  whelps  fiilling  into  the  pit,^  in 
which  is  appositely  displayed  the  captivity  of  ttie  Jewidi 
princes ;  or  that  of  the  fiiir,  lofty,  and  iloiurisfaing  cedar 
of  Lebanon,*^  which  raised  its  head  to  the  clouds,  cot 
down  at  length  and  neglected ;  exhibiting,  as  in  a  pic-r 
ture,  the  prosperity  and  the  M  of  the  king  of  Assyria* 
I  will  add  one  more  example  (there  is^  indeed,  scarcely 
any  which  «night  not  with  propriety  be  introduced  here) 
I  mean  that,  in  which  the  love  of  God  towards  his  peo- 
ple, and  their  piety  and  fidelity  to  biro,  are  expressed  by 
an  allusioti  to  the  solemn  covenant  of  marriage.  £ze« 
kiel  has  pursued  this  image  with  uncommon  freedom  in 
two  parables  ;^  in  truth  almost  all  the  sacred  poets  have 
touched  tipon  it.  There  was,  therefore,  no  part  of  the 
imagery  of  the  Hebrew  poetry  more  established  thai^ 
this ;  nor  ought  it  to  appear  extraordinaiy,  that  Solomon» 
in  that  most  elegant  poem,  the  Canticles,  should  distin- 
guish and  depict  the  most  sacred  of  all  subjects  witl\ 
similar  outlines,  and  in  similar  colours. 

It  is  not,  however,  su$cient,  that  the  image  be  apt 
and  familiar ;  it  must  also  be  elegant  and  beautiful  in 
itself:  since  it  is  the  purpose  of  a  poetic  pamble,  not 
only  to  explain  more  perfectly  some  propositicMi,  but 
frequently  to  give  it  more  animation  and  splendour. 
The  imagery  from  natural  objects  is  superior  to  all  otb^ 

u  Ezsx.  ziz*  1—9. 

14  EsftK.  xzxi.  I  take  thia  pMsage  according  to  the  common  ezplani^ 
tien^tllBrrgardiiig  that  of  Meibomiua,  which  I  find  is  hlamed  by  many  of 
the  learned :  and  indeed  it  haa  aome  difficultiea,  which  are  not  easy  to  clear 
away.  Nor  can  I  indeed  relish  that  ABtyrian^  who  has  intruded  himself  I 
know  not  how.  |n  the  10th  for  nro9  I  thiiik  it  were  better  to  read  m^ 
with  the  Stbtac  md  Vvmatk,  which  neading  ii  adopted  by  the  learned 
HovniVAjrT.  Observe  ftlso,  that  the  LXX  have  very  rip^htly  rendered  Me^ 
Orahathim  by  m  /m«9v  mf  MfMMPt»  ^  throu|^  the  midft  of  the  clouds." 

ylMAar^a  Mte. 

19  EsEK  xvi.  and  xziii. 


Uur.  16.  ALLEOORT.  Ul 

er  in  this  resfiect ;  fbr  almost  every  fucture  from  nature» 
if  accurately  drawn,  has  its  peculiar  beauty.  As  th^ 
panyi>les  of  tiie  sacred  poetsi  tbercforei  consist  chiefly  of 
diis  kind  of  imageiy,  the  elegance  of  the  materials  gen- 
erally serves  to  recommend  thefn*  If  there  be  any  of 
a  different  kind,  such  as  may  be  accounted  less  delicate 
and  refined,  it  ought  to  be  considered,  whether  they  are 
Qot  to  be  accounted  among  those,  the  dignity  and  grace 
of  which  are  lost  to  us,  though  they  were  perhaps  want* 
ing  in  neither  to  people  of  the  same  age  and  countiy. 
If  any  reader,  for  instance,  diould  be  offended  with  the 
boiling  pot  of  Ezekiel,^  and  die  scum  flowing  over  into 
the  fire ;  let  him  remember,  that  the  prophet,  who  was 
also  a  priest,  took  the  allusion  from  his  own  sacred  rites : 
nor  is  there  a  possibility,  that  an  image  could  be  ac- 
counted mean  or  disgusting,  which  was  connected  with 
the  holy  ministration  of  the  temple. 

It  is  also  essential  to  the  elegance  of  a  parable,  that 
the  imagery  should  not  only  be  apt  and  beautiful,  but 
Aat  all  its  parts  and  appendages  should  be  perspicuous 
and  pertinent*  It  is,  however,  by  no  means  necessary, 
that  in  every  parable  the  allusion  should  be  com|)Iete  in 
every  part ;  such  a  degree  of  resemblance  would  fre- 
quently appear  too  mmute  and  exact ;  but  when  the  na- 
ture of  the  subject  will  bear,  much  more  when  it  wiH 
even  require  a  fuller  explanation ;  and  when  the  simili- 
tude runs  directly,  naturally,  and  regularly,  through  eve- 
ry circumstance,  then  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  it  is 
productive  of  the  greatest  beauty.  Of  all  these  exceU 
lencies,  there  cannot  be  more  perfect  examples  than  the 
parables  which  have  been  just  specified.  1  will  also  ven- 
ture to  recommend  the  well-known  parable  of  Nathan,^^ 
fQthough  written  in  prose,  as  well  as  that  of  Jotham,** 

U  £uK.  ^Kziv.  d,  fMk       IY  S  Sa]i«  xii,  l-*4.  II  Jv9.  is.  r— 15.    , 


/ 


142  ALLEGORY.  Lect.  !•. 

which  appears  to  be  the  most  ancient*eittant,  and  ap- 
proaches somewhat  nearer  the  poetical  ibrm.^^ 

To  these  remarks  I  will  add  anodier»  which  may  be 
considered  as  the  criterion  of  a  parable,  namely,  that  it 
be  consistent  throughout,  and  that  the  literal  be  never  con- 
(^  founded  with  the  figurative  sense.  In  tthis  respect  it 
materially  differs  from  the  former  species  of  allegory, 
which,  deviating  but  gradually  from  the  simple  meta* 
phor,  does  not  always  immediately  exclude  literal  ex» 
pressions,  or  words  without  a  figure.^    But  both  the 

19  Poetrjr  seems  to  me  to  be.  often  strtmgely  confoanded  with  oratory; 
from  which  it  is,  however,  very  difierent  These  instances  appear  to  me 
only  the  rudiments  of  popular  oratory,  the  ancient  and  wtr^ned  mode  ^f 
epeakmgi  as  liiTT  calls  it :  aad  if  the  reader  will  be  at  the  pains  to  exam, 
ine  Liv.  L.  ii,  q.  32»  I  dare  believe  he  will  be  of  the  same  opinion.  Poetry, 
as  our  author  himself  has  stated,  is  one  of  the  first  arts,  and  was  in  a  much 
more  perfect  state,  than  yie  should  suppose  from  the  passages  in  question 
long  before  the  days  of  Jotham  :  oratory  is  of  more  recent  origin,  and  was, 
we  may  well  suppose,  at  that  period  in  its  infancy ;  as  Cickho  remarks 
that  it  was  one  of  the  latest  of  the  arts  of  Greece.  Brut,  c.  7.  M.  See 
^Moyt  BUfrictd  and  Meral,  p.  41. 

M  1  think  there  is  great  judgement  and  taste  in  this  remark,  of  which 
the  parable  of  the  good  Samaritan  will  afford  a  happy  exemplification,  in 
the  mention  of  the  man^t  journeying  from  Jeruealem  to  Jericho^  a  circum- 
stance that  gives  substance  and  reality  to  the  parable. 

It  may  be  observed,  moreover,  that  in  allegorical  writing  the  literal  sense 
may  be  sometimes  suffered  to  obtrude  itself  upon  the  figurative  with  very 
good  effect,  just  as  the  gold  that  betrays  itself  in  glimpses  from  the  plum, 
age  of  the  peacock,  the  scales  of  the  dolj^iin,  or  (to  illustritte  my  idea 
from  Spenser)  the  texture  of  the  loom,  augments  thereby  the  splendour  of 
their  colours. 

■         **  round  about  the  walls  y  clothed  were 
**  With  goodly  anas  of  great  maiesty, 
"  Woven  with  gold  and  silk  so  close  and  nere 
*•  That  the  rich  metall  lurked  privily, 
**  As  fining  to  be  bidd  from  envious  eyt ; 
*<  Yet  here,  and  there,  and  every  where  unawares 

"  It  shewed  itselfe,  and  shone  unwillingly ; 
*'  Like  a  discoloured  snake,  whose  hidden  snaivs 
■'  Through  the  green  grass  his  long  bright  bumisht  back  declares.** 

Faery  Queened  B.  3.  c.  xi.  s.  28. 
A  fine  poetical  allegory  of  this  kind  may  be  seen  in  the  first  strophe  c^f 
Gray's  Ode  on  Poesy,    8.  U. 


Lbct.  \%  ALLEOORr.  US 

fact  itself»  arid  this  distinction»  will  more  evidently  ap^ 
pear  from  ati  example  of  each  kind. 

The  psalmist»  (virboever  he  was)  describing  the  peo- 
ple of  Israel  as  a  vine»*^  has  continued  the  metaphor»  and 
happily  drawn  it  out  through  a  variety  of  additional  cir- 
cumstances. Among  the  many  beauties  of  this  allego- 
17,  not  the  least  graceful  is  that  modesty»  with  which  he 
enters  upon  and  concludes  his  subject»  making  an  easy 
and  gradual  transition  from  plain  to  figurative  language» 
9Dd  no  less  delicately  receding  back  to  the  plain  and 
unornamented  narrative. 

^  Tboa  hast  brought  a  vine  out  of  Egypt ; 

^  Thou  hast  cast  out  the  nations  and  planted  it» 

«  Thou  preparedst  room  before  it**  * 

After  this  follow  some  figurative  expressions,  less  cau- 
dously  introduced :  in  which  when  he  has  indulged  for 
some  time»  how  elegantly  does  he  revert  to  his  proper 
subject ! 

«  Return,  O  God  of  Hosts  I 

^  Look  down  from  heaven»  and  behold» 

**  And  viteit  this  vine  : 

^  And  the  branch  which  thy  right  hand  hath  planted ; 

^  And  the  offspring^  which  thou  madest  strong  for  thyself. 

"  It  is  burned  in  the  fire,  it  is  cut  away  ; 

*  By  the  rebuke  of  thy  countenance  they  perish. 

^  Let  thy  hand  be  upon  the  man  of  thy  right  hand  ;» 

**  Upon  the  son  of  man»  whom  thou  madest  strong  for  thyself/' 

tl  PBA&.  Ixxx.  9^18. 

» <«  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  all  the  (dd  trtnaUtorsy  tiie  Chaldee  excepted, 
**  s€«m  to  have  read  in  this  place  Ben  Jtikun^  **  the  son  of  man»"  as  in  ver. 
^  18.  Dr.  KjunrxcoTT  affirms  also  that  he  found  this  same  reading  in  one 
"  manuscript.    H.        JhUhm*9  A*o«p. 

^  That  is,  the  man  «Ao  i%  Joined  u  th99  6y  a  wlemn  ewenant.  The  Orieafals 
all  swear  by  lifting  up  the  right  hqmd.  Hence  also  among  the  Arabs jasiin 
is  to  swear.    M. 


144  AIXB061tt.  Lbct.  la 

You  mdy  easily  perceive,  gentletnefi,  how,  in  thb 
first  kind  of  allegory,  the  literal  may  be  miiig^ed  with 
the  figurative  sense  ;  and  even  how  graceful  this  prac- 
tice appears,  since  light  is  more  agreeably  thrown  upon 
/^the  subject  in  an  oblique  manner,  without  too  bare  and 
v^s^  direct  an  explication.  But  it  is  diSbrenti  when  the  same 
image  puts  on  the  form  of  the  other  sort  of  allegory,  or 
parable,  as  in  Isaiah.**    Here  is  no  room  for  literal,  or 

<even  ambiguous  expressions  t  every  word  is  figurative  | 
the  whole  mass  of  colouring  is  taken  from  the  sam^ 
pallet.  Thus  what,  in  the  former  quotation,  is  en^ 
pressed  in  undisguised  language,  namely,  '^  the  casting 
**  out  of  the  nations,  the  preparation  of  the  place,  and 
**  its  destruction  from  the  rebuke  of  the  Lord,"  is  by 
Isaiah  expressed  wholly  io  a  figurative  manner :— **  The 
^  Lord  gathered  out  the  stones  from  his  vineyard,  and 
^  desred  it :  but  when  it  deceived  him,  he  tlurewdown 
"  its  hedge,  and  made  it  waste,  and  commanded  the 
<<  clouds  that  they  should  rain  no  rain  upon  it"  Ex- 
pressions, which  in  the  one  case  possess  a  peculiar 
grace,  would  be  absurd  and  incongruous  in  the  odier. 
For  the  continued  metaphor  and  the  parable  have  a  very 
different  aim.  The  sole  intention  of  the  former  is  to 
embellish  a  subject,  to  represent  it  more  magnificentfy^, 
or  at  the  most  to  illustrate  it ;  that,  by  d^cribing  it  in 
more  elevated  language,  it  may  strike  the  mind  more 
forcibly :  but  the  intent  of  the  latter  is  to  withdraw  the 
//  truth  for  a  moment  from  our  sight,  in  order  to  conceal 
\\  whatever  it  may  contain  ungraceful  or  disgusting,  and 
to  enable  it  secretly  to  insinuate  itself,  and  obtain  m\  as- 
cendancy as  it  were  by  stealth.  There  is,  however,  a 
species  of  parable,  the  intent  of  which  is  only  to  illus- 
trate the  subject,  such  is  that  remarkable  one  of  £ze- 

M  Chap.  V.  1— r 


LscT.  10.  ALLEGORY.  \4fi 

kiel,^  which  I  just  now  commended,  of  the  cedar  of 
Lebanon :  than  which,  if  we  consider  the  imagery  it- 
self, none  was  ever  more  apt  or  more  beautiful ;  if  the 
description  and  colouring,  none  was  ever  more  elegant 
or  splendid ;  in  which,  however,  the  poet  has  occasion- 
ally allowed  himself  to  blend  the  figurative  with  the  lit- 
eral description  :^  whether  he  has  done  this  because  the 
peculiar  nature  of  this  kind  of  parable  required  it,  or 
whether  his  own  fervid  imagination  alone,  which  dis- 
dained the  stricter  rules  of  composition,  was  his  guide, 
I  can  scarcely  presume  to  determine. 

■»  Chap.  xxxf.  r  J»  Sec  ▼.  11, 14-ir. 


19 


LECTURE  XL 

OF  THE  MYSTICAL  ALLEGORY. 

The  defwhion  of  the  Mystical  Allegory— Founded  upon  the  allegorical  or 
typieal  nature  of  the  Jewiih  religion— The  distinction  between  this  and 
the  two  former  species  of  aXlegory ;  in  the  nature  of  the  materials :  it 
being  allowable  in  the  former  to  make  use  of  imagery  from  indifferesft 
objects ;  in  thk,  only  sueh  as  is  derived  from  things  sacred,  or  their  ep- 
posites  ;  in  the  former»  the  exterior  imsge  has  no  foundMion  in  truth ; 
in  the  latter»  both  images  are  equally  tru»— The  difference  in  the  fom 
or  manner  of  treating  them — ^The  most  beautiful  form  is  when  the  cor- 
responding images  run  paraUel  through  the  whole  poem»,  and  matoally 
illustrate  each  other— Examples  of  this  in  the  second  and  seventy-second 
Psalms — The  parabolic  style  admirably  adapted  to  this  species  of  allegory ; 
the  nature  of  which  renders  it  the  language  most  proper  for  prophecy--» 
Extremely  dark  in  itself,  but  it  is  gradually  cleared  up  by  the  series  of 
evenu  foretold,  and  more  complete  revelation  ;  time  also^  which  in  the 
general  obscures,  contnbutes  to  its  full  explanation. 

X  H  E  third  species  of  allegory,  which  also  prerails  mudb 
in  the  prophetic  poetiy»  is  when  a  double  meaning  is 
couched  under  the  same  words ;  or  when  the  same  pro- 
duction, according  as  it  is  differently  interpreted,  re* 
lates  to  different  events,  dbtant  in  time,  and  dbtinct  in 
their  nature.  These  different  relations  are  termed  the 
literal  and  the  mystical  senses ;  and  these  constitute  one 
of  the  most  difficult  and  important  topics  of  Theology. 
The  subject  is,  however,  connected  also  with  the  sacred 
poetry,  and  is  therefore  deserving  of  a  place  in  these 
lectures. 

In  tlie  sacred  rites  of  the  Hebrews,  things,  places, 
times,  offices,  and  such  like,  sustain  as  it  were  a  double 


Lbot.  11.  ALLEGORY.  147 

character,  the  one  proper  or  literal,  the  other  allegorical ; 
and  in  their  writings  these  subjects  are  sometimes  treated 
of  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  relate  either  to  the  one  sense 
or  the  other  singly,  or  to  both  united.  For  instance,  a 
composition  may  treat  of  David,  of  Solomon,  of  Jerusa- 
lem, so  as  to  be  understood  to  relate  simply  either  to 
the  city  itself  and  its  monarchs,  or  else  to  those  objects, 
which,  in  the  sacred  allegory  of  the  Jewish  religicm,  are 
denoted  by  that  city  and  by  those  monarchs :  or  the  mine) 
of  the  author  may  embrace  both  objects  at  once,  so  that 
the  very  words  which  express  the  one  in  the  plain,  prop^ 
er,  historical,  and  commonly  received  sense,  may  typi/jr 
the  other  in  the  sacred,  interior,  and  prophetic  sense. 

From  these  principles  of  the  Jewish  relig^,  this  kind 
of  allegory,  which  I  am  inclined  to  call  mystical,  seems 
more  especially  to  derive  its  ori^  s  and  from  these  wt 
must  endeavour  at  an  explanation  of  it.  But  its  natlire 
and  peculiar  properties  will  probably  be  more  easily  de* 
monstrable,  if  we  previously  define,  in  what  respects  it 
b  different  from  the  two  former  species  of  allegory. 

The  first  remarkable  diflference  is,  that  in  allegories  of 
the  kind  already  noticed,  the  writer  is  at  liberty  to  make 
use  of  whatever  imagery  b  most  agreeable  to  his  fancy 
or  inclination :  there  is  nothing  in  universal  nature,  notiv 
ing  which  the  mind  perceives,  either  by  sense  or  reflbc* 
tion,  which  may  not  be  adapted  in  the  form  of  a  con- 
tinued metaphor,  or  even  of  a  parable,  to  the  illustration 
of  some  other  subject.  Thb  latter  kind  of  allegory,  on 
the  contrary,  can  only  be  supplied  with  proper  materials 
from  the  sacred  rites  of  the  Hebrews  themselves ;  nor 
can  it  be  introduced,  except  in  relation  to  such  things  as 
are  directly  connected  with  the  Jewish  religion,  or  their 
immediate  opposites.  For  to  Israel,  Sion,  Jerusalem, 
in  the  allegorical  as  well  as  the  literal  sensci  are  opposed 


/ 


ua  THE  MYSTICAL  L«ct.  1 1. 

Assyria,  Babylon»  Egypt»  Idumea;  and  the  same  oppo^ 

sition  exists  in  other  subjects  of  a  similar  nature.    The 

two  former  kinds  of  allegory  are  of  the  same  general  nat 

ture  with  the  other  figures,  and  partake  of  the  common 

privileges  of  poetry ;  this  latter»  or  mystical  allegory,  has 

its  foundation  in  the  nature  of  the  Jewish  economy,  and 

is  adapted  solely  to  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews.^    Hence 

that  truly  Divine  Spirit,  which  has  not  disdained  to  em« 

ploy  poetry  as  the  interpreter  of  its  sacred  will,  has  also 

in  a  manner  appropriated  to  its  own  use  this  kind  of  aller 

goiy,  as  peculuu-ly  adapted  to  the  publication  of  future 

events,  and  to  the  typifying  o!  the  most  sacred  myste* 

ries :  so  that  should  it,  on  any  occasion,  be  applied  to 

a  pro&ne  and  common  subject ;  being  diverted  from  its 

proper  end,  and  forced  as  it  were  ttofn  its  natural  bias» 

k  would  inevitably  want  all  its  power  and  elegance, 

.  i  There  is  likewise  this  further  distinction,  that  in  those 

other  forms  of  allegory,  the  exterior  or  ostensible  im* 

agery  is  fiction  only  ;  the  truth  lies  altogether  in  the  in- 

/    terior  or  remote  sense,  which  is  veiled  as  it  were  under 

this  thin  and  pellucid  covering.    But  in  the  allegory,  of 

which  we  are  now  treating,  each  idea  is  equally  agreea- 

ble  to  truth.    The  exterior  or  ostensible  image  is  not  a 

shadowy  cok>uring.of  the  interior,  sen^e,  but  is  in  itself 

a  reality ;   and  although  it  sustain  another  character,  it 

1  I  admire  thp  pf  rspicaoity  of  our  Author  in  dbooveting  this  circum- 
stance, and  his  candour  in  so  freely  disclosing  his  opinion.  I  am^  however, 
much  inclined  to  suspect  those  qualities  which  are  supposed  to  be  alto- 
gether peculiar  to  the  saered  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  :  and  there  is»  I  con- 
fess, need  of  uxicommon  force  of  argument  to  convince  me»  that  the  sacred 
writings  are  to  be  interpreted  by  rules  in  every  respect  different  from  those» 
by  which  other  writings  and  other  languages  are  interpreted ;  but  in  truth 
this  hypothesis  of  a  double  sense  being  applicable  to  the  same  words»  is  so 
far  from  resting  on  any  solid  ground  of  argument,  that  I  find  it  is  altogeth- 
er founded  on  tlie  practice  of  commentators»  and  their  vague  and  tralat]- 
tious  opinions.     M. 


LxcT.  II.  AIXEGORT.  149 

does  not  wholly  lay  aside  its  own.  For  instance,  in  the 
metaphor  or  parable,  the  lion,  the  eagle,  the  cedar,  con- 
sidered  with  respect  to  their  identical  existence,  are  al- 
togeUier  destitute  of  reality ;  but  what  we  read  of  David, 
Solomon,  or  Jerusalem,  in  tins  sublimer  kind  of  allegory, 
may  be  either  accepted  in  a  literal  sense,  or  may  be 
mystically  interpreted  according  to  the  religion  of  the 
Hebrews,  and  in  each  view,  whether  considered  con- 
juncdy  or  apart,  will  be  found  equally  agreeable  to  truth. 
Thus  &r  this  kind  of  allegory  differs  from  the  former 
in  the  materials,  or  in  the  nature  of  the  imagery  which 
it  employs ;  but  there  i&  some  difference  also  in  the  form 
or  mamier  of  introducing  this  imagery.  I  had  occasion 
before  to  remark  the  liberty,  which  is  allowed  in  the  con- 
dnued  metaphor,  of  mingling  the  literal  with  the  figura* 
tive  meaning,  that  is,  the  obvious  with  the  remote  idea ; 
which  is  a  liberty  altogether  inconsistent  with  the  nature 
of  a  parable.  But  to  establish  any  certain^  rules  with  re- 
gard to  this  point  in  the  conduct  of  the  mystical  allegory, 
would  be  a  difficult  and  hazardous  undertaking.  For 
the  Holy  Spirit  has  evidently  chosen  different  modes  of 
revealing  his  sacred  counsels,  according  to  the  circum- 
stances of  persons  and  times,  inciting  and  directing  at 
pleasiure  the  minds  of  his  prophets :'  at  one  time  dis- 
playing with  an  unbounded  liberality  the  clear  indica- 
tions of  future  events ;  at  another  imparting  some  ob- 
scure intimations  with  a  sparing  hand.  Thus  there  is  a 
vast  variety  in  the  use  and  coiKluct  of  the  mystical  alle- 
gory ;  in  the  modes  in  which  the  corresponding  images 
are  arranged,  and  in  which  they  are  obscured  or  eclipsed 
by  one  another.     Sometimes  the  obvious  or  literal  sense 

3  And  yet  those  metupbors  and  parables»  the  laws  and  principles  of  which 
oYir  author  has  so  correctly  defined,  proceed  from  the  same  Holy  Spirit,  and 
our  author  does  npt  deny  his  being  confined  by  these  laws.    M. 


< 


150  THE  MYSTICAL  Lbct.  11. 

18  SO  prominent  and  conspicuous,  both  in  the  words  and 
sentiments,  that  the  remote  or  figurative  sense  is  scarcely 
permitted  to  glimmer  tlirough  it/  On  the  other  hand, 
and  that  more  frequently,  the  figurative  sense  is  found 
to  beam  forth  with  so  much  perspicuity  and  lustre,  that 
the  literal  sense  is  quite  cast  into  a  shade,  or  becomes 
indiscernible.  Sometimes  the  principal  or  figurative 
idea  is  exhibited  to  the  attentive  eye  with  a  constant  and 
equal  light ;  and  sometimes  it  unexpectedly  glares  upoa 
us,  and  breaks  forth  with  sudden  and  astonishing  cor* 
ruscations,  like  a  flash  of  lightning  bursting  from  the 
clouds.  But  the  mode  or  form  of  thb  figure,  which 
possesses  the  most  beauty  and  elegance  (and  that  ele« 
gance  is  the  principal  object  of  this  disquisition)  is,  when 
the  two  images  equally  conspicuous  run,  as  it  were, 
parallel  through  the  whde  poem,  mutually  illustrating 
and  correspondent  to  each  other.  Though  the  subject 
be  obscure,  I  do  not  fear  being  able  to  produce  one  or 
two  undoubted  instances  of  this  peculiar  excellence, 
which,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  will  sufficiendy  explain 
what  I  have  advanced  concerning  the  nature  of  the  mys- 
tical allegory. 

The  subject  of  the  second  Psalm  is  the  establishment 
of  David  upon  the  throne,  agreeably  to  the  Almighty 
decree,  notwithstanding  the  fruiUess  opposition  of  his 
enemies.    The  character  which  David  sustains  in  this 

3  When  thif  happens  to  be  the  case,  how  are  we  to  know,  that  the  other 
subject  or  lentunent,  which  oor  author  describes  aa  almost  totallj  eclipsed 
or  extinguished  by  the  superior  lig^ht,  is  iatended  by  the  writer  ?  If»  aa  I 
am  fully  persuaded,  a  clear  and  exact  picture  of  the  Messiah  be  exhibited 
in  PsALx  ex.  what  occasion  b  there  to  apply  it  also  to  David,  who  nerer 
performed  the  priestly  function»  nor  ever  sat  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  that 
is,  in  the  Holy  of  Holies»  at  the  right  of  the  Ark  of  the  covenant  ?  On  the 
contrary,  if  in  Psalm  xviii.  the  description  of  David's  victories  be  so  pre*> 
dominant»  as  that  it  can  scarcely  be  made  to  speak  any  other  sentiment, 
what  occasion  is  tliere  to  apply  it  at  all  to  the  Messiah  ?    M. 


Law.  IK  ALLEGORY.  151 

poem  is  twofold,  literal  and  allegorical.  If  on  the  first 
reading  of  the  Psalm  we  cooaider  the  character  of  David 
in  the  literal  sense,  the  composition  appears  sufficientlj 
perspicuous,  and  abundantly  illustrated  by  facts  from  the 
sacred  history.  Through  the  whole,  uideed,  there  is  an 
unusual  fervour  of  language,  a  brilliancy  of  metaphor ; 
and  sometimes  the  Action  is  uncommonly  elevated,  as 
if  to  intimate,  that  something  of  a  more  sublime  and  imi* 
portant  nature  lay  concealed  within ;  and  as  if  the  poet 
had  some  intention  of  admitting  us  to  the  secret  recesses 
of  hb  subject.  If,  in  consequence  of  this  indicatidn^ 
we  turn  our  minds  to  contemplate  the  internal  sense» 
and  apply  the  same  passages  to  the  allegorioal  David,  a 
nobler  series  of  events  b  presented  to  us,  and  a  meaning 
not  only  more  sublime,  but  even  more  perspicuous, 
rises  to  the  view.  Should  any  thing  at  first  appear  bold- 
er and  more  elevated  than  the  obvious  sense  would  bear, 
it  will  now  at  once  appear  clear,  expressive,  and  admi- 
rably adapted  to  the  dignity  of  the  principal  subject 
If,  after  having  considered  attentively  the  subjects  apart, 
we  examine  them  at  length  in  a  united  view,  the  beauty 
and  sublimity  of  this  most  elegant  poem  will  be  improv- 
ed/  We  may  then  perceive  the  vast  disparity  of  the 
two  images,  and  y^  the  continual  harmony  and  agree- 
ment that  subsists  between  them,  the  amazing  resen|« 
blance,  as  between  near  relations,  in  every  feature  and 
fineament,  and  the  accurate  analogy  which  is  presa*ved9 

« If,  u  we  learn  from  the  authority  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  thi»  FmIxh  ftf • 
Utes  chieSy  to  Christ,  his  resurrtction  and  kingdom ;  why  should  we  at  all 
apply  it  to  David  ?  I  do  not  deny  that  the  victories  of  David,  as  well  as  of 
ether  kings  of  Jehisalem,  to  whom  no  person  has  thought  of  applying  the 
poem  in  question,  might  be  celebrated  in  language  equally  bold  and  pow- 
erAil :  bat  let  us  lemember,  that  we  have  no  right  to  say  a  work  has  re* 
lation  to  trery  person  of  whom  somethhig  similar  might  be  said,  but  t^ 
that  person  alone,  who  b  the  actual  subject  of  it  If  Christ,  therefore,  he 
the  subject  of  this  pocn,  let  us  set  aside  David  altogether.    M« 


^^ 


159  THE  MYSTICAL  Lect.  H. 

SO  that  either  may  pass  for  the  origimd,  whence  the  oth- 
er was  copied.  New  light  is  reflected  upon  the  diction, 
and  a  degree  of  dignity  and  importance  is  added  to  thb 
sentiments,  whilst  ihey  gradusdly  rise  from  humble  to 
more  elevated  objects,  from  human  to  divine,  till  at 
length  the  great  subject  of  the  poem  is  placed  in  the 
most  conspicuous  light,  and  the  composition  attains  the 
highest  point  of  subltmtty. 

What  htffi  been  remarked  concerning  this  Psalm,  may 
be  applied  with  propriety  to  the  seventy-second,  which 
exactly  resembles  it  both  in  matter  and  form.  It  might 
not  improperly  be  entitled  the  inauguration  (yf  Solomon. 
The  nature  of  the  allegory  is  the  same  with  the  former ; 
the  style  is  something  diflferent,  on  account  of  the  dis- 
parity of  the  subject.  In  the  one  the  pomp  and  splen- 
dour of  victory  is  displayed ;  in  the  other  the  placid 
image  of  peace  and  felicity.  The  style  of  the  latter  is, 
therefore,  more  calm  and  temperate,  more  ornamented^ 
more  figurative ;  not  abounding  in  the  same  boldness 
of  personification  as  the  former,  but  rather  touched  with 
the  gay  and  cheerful  colouring  of  nature,  in  its  most 
flourishing  and  delightful  state.  From  this  example 
some  light  will  be  thrown  upon  the  nature  of  the  para- 
bolic  style ;  in  particular  it  will  appear  admirably  adapt- 
ed to  this  kind  of  allegory,  on  account  of  its  abounding 
so  much  in  this  species  of  imagery.  For  as  the  image- 
ry of  nature  is  equally  calculated  to  express  the  ideas  of 
divine  and  spiritual,  or  of  human  things,  a  certain  anal- 
ogy  being  preserved  in  each ;  so  it  easily  admits  that 
degree  of  ambiguity,  which  appears  essential  to  this 
figure.  By  these  means  the  composition  is  at  the  same 
time  diversified  and  perspicuous,  applicable  to  both 
senses,  and  obscure  in  neither ;  and  completely  com- 
prehending both  parts  of  the  allegory,  may  clearly  and 
distinctly  be  referred  to  either. 


LacT.  11.  ALLEOORT.  153 

Still,  however,  a  degree  of  obscurity  must  occasion- 
aUj  aCteod  tUs  style  of  compositioa ;  and  this  obscurity 
not  only  results  from  the  nature  of  the  figure,  but  is 
even  not  without  its  peculiar  utility.  For  the  mystical 
aUegory  is  on  this  very  account  so  agreeable  to  the  na« 
tare  of  prophecy,  that  it  is  the  form  which  the  latter 
generally,  and  I  might  add  lawfully,  assumes,  as  most 
fitted  for  the  prediction  of  future  events.  It  describes 
events  in  a  manner  exactly  conformable  to  the  intentioa 
of  prophecy  ;  that  is,  in  a  dark,  disguised,  and  intricate  J 
manner ;  sketching  out  in  a  general  way  their  form  and 
outline ;  and  seldom  descending  to  minuteness  of  de* 
soription,  and  exactness  of  detail.  If  on  some  occasions 
it  expressly  signifies  any  notable  circumstance,  it  seems 
to  be  for  two  principal  reasons  :*  First,  that,  as  general- 
ly happens,  by  suddenly  withdrawing  from  our  view  the 
literal  meaning,  the  attention  may  be  excited  to  the  in» 
vestigation  of  the  figurative  sense ;  and  secondly,  that 
certain  express  marks,  or  distinguishing  features,  may 
occasionally  shew  themselves,  which,  after  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  prediction,  may  be  sufficient  to  remove 
every  doubt,  and  to  assert  and  confirm,  in  all  points, 
the  truth  and  divinity  of  the  prophecy.^ 

The  prophetic,  indeed,  differs  in  one  respect  from 
every  other  species  of  the  sacred  poetry  :    when  ^rst      ,  ^ 
divulged  it  is  impenetrably  obscure  ;^  and  time,  which 

•  PtAii.  zxii.  ir,  18, 19.  and  Ixiz.  22. 

<  If  there  be  any  one  prophecy  in  the  Bible  comprbing^  a  double  aens^ 
surely  it  is  that  in  Isaiah,  ch.  vii.  15,  8cc.  but  notwithstanding^  the  pre^ 
tended  clue  to  its  twofold  import,  which  some  have  flattered  themselves 
with  discovering  in  the  separate  addresses  of  the  prophet  /o  the  Kixs,  and 
t9  the  Bovsa  or  Davu»— how  little  room  there  is  for  so  fanciful  an  hy- 
pothesis, those  may  see  who  will  refer  to  Mr.  Postlvthwaiti's  elegant 
discourse  on  the  subject.    [Cambridge,  1781.]    S.  H. 

f  What  our  author  has  advanced  concerning  the  language  of  prophecy, 
is  not  quite  so  satisfiictory  as  I  could  haT«  wished ;  for  though  the  accora« 

20 


154  THE  MYSTICAL  ALEGORY.  Lkct.  II, 

darkens  every  other  composition,  elucidates  this.  That 
obscurity,  therefore,  in  which  at  first  this  part  of  the 
sacred  writings  was  involved,  is  now  in  a  great  measure 
removed ;  there  are  now  many  things  which  the  course 
of  events  (the  most  certain  interpreter  of  prophecy)  had 
completely  kid  open ;  from  n^ny  the  Holy  Spirit  has 
itself  condescended  to  remove  the  veil,  with  which  they 
were  at  first  concealed ;  many  sacred  institutions  there 
are,  the  reason  and  intent  of  which  are  more  clearly 
understood,  since  the  design  of  the  Jewish  dispensation 
has  been  more  perfectly  revealed.  Thus  it  happens, 
that,  instructed  and  supported  by  these  aids,  of  which 
the  ancient  Hebrews  were  destitute,  and  which  in  truth 
appear  not  to  have  been  conceded  to  the  prophets  them- 
selves, we  come  better  accomplished  for  the  knowledge 
and  comprehension  of  that  part  of  the  sacred  poetry» 
which  is  the  most  singular  in  its  nature,  and  by  far  the 
most  difficult  of  explanation» 

plishroent  of  an  event  predicted  be  the  only  certain  key  to  the  precise  i^ 
plication  of  e^ery  term  which  the  prediction  contained,  yet  if  there  be  not 
■omething  in  the  words  of  the  prophecy,  which  at  the  time  of  its  ddii^eiy 
may  serve  to  mark  its  general  import,  how  shall  those,  to  whom  it  is  ad- 
dressed, apply  the  prediction  to  its  proper  object  and  purpose  ?  Our  author 
traces  in  the  prophetic  language  an  assumption  of  imagery  from  the  chaos, 
creation,  deluge,  &c.  surely  then,  if  the  application  of  figures  from  these 
topics  were  apposite  and  obvious,  they  most  have  conveyed  the  general 
purport  of  the  prediction  which  contained  them  ;  and  instead  of  being  de- 
signed to  obscure  its  real  meaning,  were  doubtless  employed  for  the  con« 
trary  purpose.  To  me  the  reason  of  the  thing  is  so  clear,  and  our  Saviour's 
practice  of  referring  to  former  events  with  this  very  intent  so  certain,  (see 
Mitt.  zxiv.  15,  37,  &c.)  that  I  cannot  but  consider  it  as  the  most  promi- 
Bffit  charactoristic  of  the  prophetic  language.    S.  H. 


LECTURE  XII. 


OF  THE  COMPARISON. 

Coinpariaoiw  axe  introduced  for  three  purposes ;  illustration^  amplification» 
and  variety — For  the  first  an  image  is  requisite,  apt,  well-known,  ai^A 
perspicuous ;  it  is  of  little  consequence  whether  It  be  sublime  or  beauti- 
ful, or  neither :  hence  comparisons  irdm  objects  which  are  in  themselves 
mean  and  humble  may  be  sometimes  useful — For  the  purpose  of  ampllfi- 
cation  an  image  is  requisite  which  is  sublime,  or  beautiful,  even  thougfh 
it  should  be  less  apt  and  perspicuous :  and  on  this  plea  a  degree  of  o^ 
«curity,  or  a  remoteness  in  the  resemblance,  may  sometimes  be  excuse^ 
—When  variety  is  the  object,  splendid,  beautiful,  and  elegant  imagery 
must  be  sought  for ;  and  which  has  an  apt  agreement  with  the  oliject  of 
the  comparison  in  She  Aifeumstances  or  adjuncts,  thouf^  the  objects 
themselves  may  be  different  in  kind — The  most  perfect  comparison  is 
that,  in  which  all  these  excellencies  are  united— -The  peculiar  form  of 
comparisons  in  the  Hebvew  poetry ;  it  results  from  the  nature  of  the 
sententious  style— They  are  short,  frequent,  simple,  depending-  often  on 
a  single  attribute— Different  images  displayed  in  the  parallel  sentences ; 
many  comparisons  are  arranged  in  this  manner  to  illustrate  tlie  same 
aubject ;  or  difiSnrent  attributes  of  the  same  comparison  are  often  dis- 
tributed in  the  different  divisions  or  parallelisms. 

JLn  the  following  lecture  I  shall  endeavour  to  treat  of 
the  comparison,  which  I  have  classed  the  third  in  order 
of  the  poetical  figures,  with  a  view  of  illustrating  in  some 
degree  both  its  general  properties,  and  its  peculiar  appli- 
cation  and  force  in  the  poetic  compositions  of  the  He- 
brews. 

Comparisons  serve  three  distinct  purposes,  namely, 
illustration,  amplification,  and  pleasure  or  variety/ 

1  If  I  am  not  mutaken,  among  those  writers  who  enter  into  the  minute- 
ness of  criticism,  a  distinction  is  observed  in  tlie  use  of  the  words  compar- 
ison^ wmUe^  and  attimon,  Compariton  seems'  to  be  not  only  the  general 
term,  which  includes  the  whole  class,  but  is  more  immediately  appropriat- 
tdto%  certain  species ;  I  mean  the  most  perfect  of  them»  wheie  Uie  re- 


/ 


156  SIMILE,  OR  LxcT.  13« 

In  the  first  place,  comparisons  are  introduced  to  illus- 
trate a  subject,  and  to  place  it  in  a  clearer  and  more  con- 
spicuous point  of  view.  This  is  most  successfully  ef- 
fected,  when  the  object  which  fuVniskes  the  simile  is  fa- 
miliar and  perspicuous,  and  when  it  exactly  agrees  with 
that  to  which  it  is  compared.  In  this  species  of  compari- 
son elevation  or  beauty,  sublimity  orsplendour,  are  of  little 
consequence ;  stijct^ropriety,  and  a  direct  resemblance» 
•calculated  exactly  for  the  explanation  of  the  subject,  is  n 
sufficient  commendation.  Thus  Homer  very  accurately 
depicts  the  numbers  of  the  Grecian  army,  their  ardour 
and  eagerness  for  battle,  by  a  comparison  taken  from 
flies  collected  about  a  milk-pail ;'  and  Virgil  compares 
the  diligence  of  the  Tyrians  in  building  their  city,  and 
the  variety  of  their  occupations,  with  the  labows  of  the 

semhlance  is  minutely  traced  through  all  the  agreeing  parts  of  the  objects 
^assimilated. — **  Censure,"  says  Dr.  Ogdeo,  in  oms  of  his  excellent  sermonsy 
"  is  so  seldom  in  season,  that  it  may  not  unaptly  be  compared  to  that  bit- 
**  ter  plant,  which  comes  to  maturity  but  in  the  age  of  a  man»  and  is  said 
•*  to  Wo«som  but  ohce  in  a  hundred  years." 

Simih  seems  to  be  a  term  chiefly  appropriated  to  poetiy»  and  oftea  im« 
plies  a  slighter  and  more  fanciful  resemblance  than  the  former  word. 

A  species  of  comparison  not  extending  to  a  HndUt  is  called  an  aliunon  ; 
it  chiefly  consists  in  comparing  one  fact  with  another.  The  most  faaciM 
and  poetical,  is,  when  two  facts,  bearing  a  remote  resemblance  in  a  feiy 
chf  cum  stances,  are  companed,  a  beautiful  example  of  which  may  be  found 
in  one  of  Dr.  Ogden's  sermons. — <*  If  it  be  the  obscure,  the  minute,  the  cer- 
"  emonial  parts  of  religion  for  which  we  are  contending,  though  the  tri- 
«  umph  be  empty,  tlie  dispute  is  dangerous ;  like  the  men  of  Ai  3ve  pur- 
«  sue,  perhaps,  some  little  party  that  flies  before  us,  and  are  anxious  that 
<*  not  a  straggler  should  escape,  but  when  we  look  behind  us  we  behold 
"  our  city  in  flkmes."    T. 

> "  thick  as  msects  play, 

«  The  wandering  nation  of  a  summer's  day, 

"  Tliat  drawn  by  milky  steams  at  evening  hours, 
>  *<  In  gathered  «warms  siuround  the  rural  bowers  $ 

'*  From  pail  to  pail  with  busy  murmur  run 

*'  The  gilded  legions  glittering  in  the  sun," 

Pope's  Horn,  JL  iL  552. 
Mr.  Pope  has  considerably  elevated  this  passage  by  the  splendour  of  his  iini 


Lbct.  Id.  COMPARISON.  157 

bees ;'  without  in  the  least  degrading  the  dignity  pf  the 
epic  Muse. 

I  might  produce  many  examples  to  the  purpose  from 
the  sacred  poetry,  but  shall  content  myself  with  two  or 
three,  than  which,  both  as  to  matter  and  expres^on^ 
nothing  can  be  meaner  or  more  vulgar,  nothing,  how- 
ever, can  be  conceived  more  forcible  or  expressive. 
Isaiah  introduces  the  king  of  Assyria  insolently  boasting 
of  his  victories : 

«<  And  my  band  h»th  found,  as  a  Best*  tbm  rkheaof  the  peoples : 

M  And  as  one  gsfUiereth  «^ga  deaerteds 

«  So  have  I  made  a  general  gatfaeiing  of  the  eanth  i 

<<  And  there  was  no  one  that  moved  the  wing ; 

«  That  opened  the  beak,  or  that  chirped."* 

And  Nahum  on  a  similar  subject : 

^  All  thy  strong-holds  shaSI  te  like  fig-trees  with  the  first  ripe 

•*figs: 
^  If  they  be  shaken»  they  fall  into  the  mouth  of  the  eater."' 

There  is  also  another  comparison  of  Isaiah  taken  from 
domestic  life,  very  obvious  and  very  common;  but 
which  for  the  gracefulness  of  die  imagery,  the  elegance 
of  the  arrangement,  and  the  forcible  expression  of  the 
tenderest  affections,  has  never  been  exceeded : 

agery  and  diction ;  <'  the  wandering  nation"  and  **  the  gilded  legions,*'  each 
of  these  expressions  raise  the  image  very  considerably  (though  I  do  not  al- 
together approve  of  this  heaping  figuve  upon  iigure»  or  rather  in  this  in- 
stance reverting  in  the  way  of  metaphor  to  the  first  object  of  the  oompari- 
son,  for  « gilded  legions"  are  here  actually  coo^pared  with  "  gilded  le- 
**  gions."} — The  rural  scenery  also,  and  the  pleaaant  time  of  evening,  give 
elegance  to  an  idea  very  coarse  and  disgusting  in  itself.    T. 

3  •£».  i.  432.  See  the  use  to  which  Miltaji  has  applied  the  same  di. 
munutive  insect,  ParadUe  Zott^  B.  L  r68,  and  the  address  with  which  the 
simile  is  introduced  by  the  expressions  thtck-trafam^df  ^e.  in  the  lines  im« 
mediately  preceding^^No  writer  was  ever  so  great  a  master  of  Amplifica- 
tion as  MiLTOH.  For  proofs  of  this  assertion,  in  addition  to  the  oompari- 
son  just  referred  to,  see  B.  i.  v.  196— 2t5,  &c.  B.  ii.  v.  285,  4S5,  and  other 
passages  without  number.    S.  H. 

4  IsAi.  X.  14w  «  Nam,  in,  12. 


1S8  SIMILE,  OR  Lect.  13. 

M  But  Sion  Baith :  Jshotah  hath  foreaken  me ; 

«  And  my  Lord  hath  forgotten  me. 

<*  Can  a  woman  forget  her  sucking  infant  $ 

«  That  Bhe  should  have  no  tenderness  for  the  son  of  her  womb  ? 

^  Even  these,  may  forget ; 

«<  But  I  will  not  forget  thee."* 

*  IfAi.  zliz.  14, 15.  This  sentiment  is  most  besutifully  paraphrssed  by 
an  elegant  poetess  of  our  own  times ;  the  excellence  of  whose  poetry  is  her 
least  commendation.  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  transcribing  a  &w 
lineSf  which  appear  to  me  at  once  forcible»  interesting»  and  sublime: 

Heaven  speaks  !  Oh  Nature  listen  and  rejoice  1 

Oh  spread  from  pole  to  pole  thia  gracious  voice ! 

<'  Say  tYtry  bieast  of  human  frame»  that  proves 

'*  The  boundless  force  with  which  a  parent  loves  ; 

*'  Say»  can  a  mother  from  her  yearning  heart 

**  Bid  the  soft  image  of  her  child  depart  ? 

*<  She !  whom  atrong  instinct  arms  with  strength  to  bea» 

^  All  ibrms  of  ill,  to  shield  that  dearest  care  ; 

*f  She !  who  with  anguish  stung»  with  madnses  wild» 

«« Will  rush  on  death  to  save  her  threatened  child  ; 

V  All  selflish  feelings  banish'd  from  her  breast, 

**  Her  life  one  aim  to  make  another^s  blest. 

**  Will  she»  for  all  ambition  can  attain» 

*'  The  charms  of  pleasure,  or  the  lures  of  gain, 

'*  Betray  strong  Kature^s  feelings,  will  she  prove 

**  Cold  to  the  claims  of  duty  and  of  love  f 

*«  But  should  the  mother,  from  her  yearning  heart 

**  Bid  the  soft  image  of  her  child  depart ; 

^  Should  she  unpitying  hear  his  melting  sigh, 

**  And  view  unmov*d  the  tear  that  fills  his  eye ; 

"  Tet  never  will  the  God,  whose  word  gave  birth 

**  To  yon  illumed  orbs,  and  this  fair  earth ; 

**  Who  throu^  the  boundless  depths  of  trackless  space 

**  Bade  new.wak*d  beauty  spread  each  perfect  grace  ; 

*'  Tet,  when  be  formed  the  vast  stupendous  whole» 

"  Shed  his  best  bounties  on  the  human  soul ; 

**  Which  reason's  light  illumes,  which  friendship  warmi» 

"  Which  pity  softens»  and  which  virtue  charms, 

**  Which  feels  the  pure  affections*  generous  glow, 

**  Shares  others'  joy»  and  bleeds  for  others'  woe — 

•*  Oh  !  never  will  the  general  Father  prove 

'*  Of  man  forgetful,  roan  the  child  of  love  !" 

When  all  those  planets  in  their  ample  spheres 

Have  winged  their  course,  and  roU'd  their  destin'd  years  i 


Lbct.  Ifi.  COMPARISON.  159 

There  is  another  species  of  comparison,  the  principal 
intent  of  which  is  the  amplification  of  the  subject ;  and 
this  is  evidently  oi  a  different  nature  from  the  former : 
for,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  necessary,  that  the  image 
which  is  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  amplifying  or 

When  the  vast  Sun  shaU  veil  his  golden  light 

Deep  in  the  glcom  of  ererlasting  night ; 

When  vnldy  destructiye  flames  shall  wrap  the  skies» 
,  When  Chao*  triumphs,  and  when  Nature  dies  } 

God  shall  himself  his  faYour'd  creature  guide 

Where  living  waters  pour  their  blissful  tide. 

Where  the  enlarged,  exulting»  wondermg  mind 

Shall  soar,  from  weakness  and  from  guilt  refin'd  s 

Where  perfect  knowledge»  bright  with  cloudless  rayi» 

Shall  gild  Eternity's  unmeasured  days ; 

Where  Friendship,  unembitter'd  by  <£stru8t» 

Shall  in  immortal  bands  unite  the  just ; 

Devotion  rais'd  to  rapture  breathe  her  strain» 

And  Love  in  his  eternal  triumph  reign  ! 

•Afitt  WiuiAXs's  Poenut  Vol.  L  p.  107.  T. 
Analogical  positions  serve  for  the  most  part  as  illustrations,' rather  than 
proofs  ;  but  no  demonstration  of  reason  alone»  can  so  closely  take  hold  on 
the  heart,  as  the  images  contained  in  this  expostulation.  For  a  mother  to 
firgtt  her  sucuho  infant^  and  feel  no  TximKirBss  for  the  Mfi  of  her  wokb, 
is  to  be  more  mnriTUBAL  than  even  a  anvra ;  but  impossible  as  it  may 
aeem  that  ohx  such  motfier  should  exist,  yet,  were  the  established  order  of 
nature  to  be  so  far  oubverud^  as  that  xvBmv  mother  should  become  tk^a 
sMuirot»,  still  the  Universal  Parent  will  never  forget  his  offspring. 

Pliny  has  mentioned  a  picture  by  Ariatides  of"  a  town  taken  by  stonb, 
**  in  which  was  seen  an  infant  creeping  to  the  breast  of  its  mother,  who, 
**  though  expiring  firom  her  wounds,  yet  expresses  an  apprehension  and 
**  fear  Icat,  the  course  of  her  milk  being  stopt,  the  child  should  suck  hc^ 
^  blood."— This  picture,  it  is  probable,  g^ve  occasion  to  the  following 
epigram  of  JEmilianus,  which  Mr.  Webb  (see  hia  Beauties  of  Paintiqg, 
page  161)  has  thus  finely  translated  : 

^ifiUfa  uau  uv  «tfii  waJtw/an  tfuihvm  Antholo^,  Lib/  3 

Suck,  little  wretch,  while  yet  thy  mother  lives. 
Buck  the  last  drop  her  hunting  bosom  gives. 
She  dies ;  her  tenderness  outlasts  her  breath» 
And  her  fond  soul  it  provident  in  death*       S.  H. 


100  SIMILE,  OR  Lbcv.  12* 

ennobfing  a  subject  be  sublime,  beautiful,  magnifeent, 
or  splendid,  and  therefore  not  trite  or  common ;  nor  is 
it  by  any  means  necessary  that  the  resemblance  be  exaelr 
in  every  circumstance.  Thus  Vii^  has  the  address  to 
imparl  even  to  the  labours  of  his  bees  a  wonderful  air  of 
sublimity,  by  a  comparison  with  the  exertions  of  the 
Cyclops  in  fabricating  the  thunderbolts  of  Jupiter  -J  thus 
he  admirably  depicts  the  grace,  the  dignity  and  strength 
of  his  -flineas,  by  comparing  him  with  Apollo  on  the  top 
of  Cynthus  renewing  the  sacred  chorus  ;*  or  with  the 
mountains  Athos,  Eryx,  and  Appenine.'  Thus  also 
Homer,"*  in  which  he  is  imitated  by  Virgil,**  compares 
two  heroes  rushing  to  battle  with  Mars  and  his  oflfspring 
Terror  advancing  from  Thrace  to  the  Phlegyans  and 
Ephyrians.  But  if  it  should  be  objected,  that  as  com- 
parisons of  the  former  kind  are  wanting  in  dignity,  so 
these  (in  which  familiar  objects  are  compared  with  ob- 
jects but  little  known,  or  with  objects  which  have  little 

y  agreement  or  resemblance  to  them)  are  more  likely  to 
//obscure  than  to  illustrate;    let  it  be  remembered,  that 

^  -  each  species  of  comparison  has  in  view  a  different  end. 
The  aim  of  the  poet  in  the  one  case  is  perspicuity,  to 
enable  the  mind  clearly  to  perceive  the  subject,  and  to 
comprehend  the  whole  of  it  at  one  view ;  in  the  other 
the  object  is  sublimity,  or  to  impress  the  reader  with 
<s^  the  idea  that  the  magnitude  of  the  subject  is  sc^rcely-to 

\  be.concciyxd.^*    When  considered  in  tliis  light,  it  will 

7  Georo.  iv.  170.  •  IE.K.  iv.  143. 

•  JEif.  xii.  701.  Whoever  desires  to  see  this  accurately  and  scientifical- 
ly explained,  may  consult  an  excellent*  work  lately  pubHshed  by  the  learned 
Mr.  Spewck,  entitled  PolymetiB,  p.  ^7  and  248.    Juthor't  *Vb/ft 

10  lu  xiii.  298.  "  iEir.  xii.  SSI 

13  A  simile  may,  however,  be  taken  from  an  object  really  inferior,  and 
yet  may  serve  to  elevate  the  subject ;  but  then  the  object  of  the  Hgtuie  must 
possess  some  of  those  qualities,  which,  if  they  do  not  heighten  our  respect, 
will  enlarge  or  vivify  the  idea.    Thus  a  field  of  com  on  Bre  ia  really  a 


Lsev.  13,  COMPARISON.  161 

I  dare  presume,  be  allowed,  that  none  of  «these  forms  of 
comparison,  when  r^tly  applirdjis  dsfickat,-  either  id 
propriety  or  eteg^n^e. 

The  Hebrews  have  nolhifig  that  .cdntspdMh  with 
those  fables,  to  which  the  Greek  wd  EUvten  poets  have 
recourse,  when  amplification  is  required :  nor  can  we 
be  surprized  that  imagery  so  consecrated^  so  dignified 
by  religion  and  antiquity,  and  yet  cf. so*  obvious  and 
established  acceptation  as  to  be  intelligible  to  the  mean- 
est  understanding,  should  supply  abundant  afid  suitable 
materials  for  this  purpose.  The  sacred  poets,  there- 
fore, resort  in  this  case  chieBy  to  the  imagery  of  nature ; 
and  this  they  make  use  of,  indeed,  with  so  much  ele- 
gance and  freedom,  that  we  have  no  cause  to  regret  the 
want  of  those  fictions,  to  which  other  nations  have  re- 
course. To  express  or  delineate  prosperity  and  opu- 
lence,  a  comparison  is  assumed  from  the  cedar  or  the 
palm ;"  if  the  form  of  majesty  or  external  beauty  is  to 

Bore  trifling  object  than  a  city  in  flames  {  yet  Vimoifi,  ^n,  it.  ▼.  406,  in- 
troduces it  so  artfully,  that  it  not  only  serves  to  illustrate,  but  to  raise 
our  idea  of  the  sack  of  Troy : 

**  Thus  when  a  fl6od  of  fire  by  wind  is  borne, 

**  Crackling  it  roUs,  and  mows  the  standing  com/'  &c. 

DnrsBir. 
•fthis  kind  also  is  that  comparison  of  Miltok,  in  which  he  likens  the 
spears  of  the  angels  surrounding  Satan  to  a  field  of  corn : 


•  **  as  thick  as  when  a  field 


•■  Of  Ceres  ripe  for  harvest,  waving  bends 
*■  Her  bearded  g^rove  of  ears,  which  way  the  wind 
•    ««  Sways  them,"  &c.  "  Par.  Lott,  B.  iv.  983. 

The  reason  why  great  subjects  may  thus  be  elevated  by  a  comparison  with 
smaller,  appears  to  be,  because  the  latter,  being  more  familiar  to  our 
minds,  and  therefore  easier  of  comprehension,  make  a  more  distinct  and 
forcible  impression,  and  lead  the  mind  gradually  to  the  contemplation  and 
proper  conception  of  the  greater  objects.    T. 

»  PsAi.  xcii.  13.    NujiB.  xxiv.  6.    H«s.  xiv-  $,  T,  S.    Amos  ii.  9. 

21 


l^  SIMILE,  CfR  later,  Ift. 

be  dqncted,  Lebanon  or  Caimd  ia  piaetited  to  our 
view,^  Somcdmes  tbey  are  fiiinMicd  with  imagay 
from  their  religious  rites,  at  once  btaotifal,  dignified» 
and  «aefni.  In  botb  fhese  «aodes,  die  Psaloust  most 
ekgandf  eaclob  Ae  pkaauresandadvantagesof  firafeceaaL 


Sweet  ftt^  Uie  od^ss  baltaa  poiirU 

Oa  AmnAl  sacred  ftiesd ; 
Wtuch  o V  hk  lMr4»  aad  diMi.  bfi  broMt 

A  breetluiig  Aagmce  ibcd. 

At  moniiiig  4ew  m  Sieo^»  msaal 

BiBsim  fimh  s  «Uer  raj  $ 
Or  fttuds  with  gems  the  verdant  pomp» 
That  Hermon's  tops  dbplay.^ 

Let  US|  howevcFi  attend  for  a  moment  to  Isaiab,  whom 
no  writer  has  surpassed  in  propriety,  when  his  aim  is  ta 
illustrate  r  or  in  sublimitjv  when  be  means  to  amplify 
bis  subject  t 

<*  Wo  10  the  mvltJliide  ^f  the  numepeiii  peoples^ 

^  Who  aiake  a  sound  like  the  sound  of  the  seas  ^ 

««  And  10  the  roarbg  of  the  nations, 

<<  Who  make  a  roaring  like  the  roaring  of  mighty  waters» 

M  Like  the  roarbg  of  mighty  waters  do  the  nations  roar ; 

«  But  he  shaU  relrake  them,  and  they  shaU  tee  &r  away  ; 

M  And  they  ahali  be  driven  like  the  chaff  of  the  hUU  before  the 

wind» 
<«  And  like  the  goasaxaer  before  die  whirlwind.*l« 

M  See  Lect.  VI. 

It  PcAL.  exxaiE  %  3.  Our  authov  en  this  oeesiion  hat  qpieked  hom 
Buobanan*»  ttanslatHNk  In  the  above  attempt  I  have  copied  Buchaiun  as 
Dearly  as  our  language  would  admit.    T. 

1*  Ibax.  xtIL  12»  13.  *'  These  five  words  rwva  D'DMb  pMtr  tn^aa  Dna» 
"  are  wanting  in  seven  manuscripts :  witli  this  difference,  in  two  of  tikem, 
'*  V.  13,  for  D*Vd9  we  read  sra*v  Soalso  the  SraiAC  version»  which  agrees 
**  with  them.  These  five  words  are  not  necessary  to  the  sense  i  and  seem 
'*  to  be  repeated  only  by  the  carelessness  of  the  transcriber."    K. 


Lmt.IS.  O0MKA1IN9N.  %%$ 

The  thM.ipeci»  of  Mmpmsoo  «ofipf  tohilda  wd^ 
41e  nmk  between  tbe  twoprccodv^g:  aiKl.tbe  sole  intent 
^it  ii»  by  a  mMLterc of  new  «id  varied  imagery  widi 
tbe  principal  TOtttter^  ta  prevent  satiety  ,«*  dfsgustt  s|Qd 
«o  promote  die  eattrtaininent^of  tbe  readier*  |t  optther 
descends  to  the  humility  of  the  one,  nor  emulates  the 
aoblimity  of  the  other,  {t  pursues  rather  the  agreeable, 
the  ornamental,  tbe  elegant,  and  rai^s  through  all  tbe 
variety,  sdl  the  «esubenmce  of  nature.  In  so  extensive 
a  field  it  would  be  an  infimte  «ask  to  collect  all  that 
might  be  observed  ^  each  partioulaiw  I  ahall  remark 
one  drcumstance  only,  which  though  it  sometimes  take 
place  in  the  two  former  species  of  comparison,  aoay  be 
said  notwithstanding  to  be  chiefly  appropriated  to  thia 

There  are  two  operations  of  the  mind,  evideady  con« 
trary  to  each  other.  The  one  consbts  in  combinmg 
ideas,  the  other  in  separating  and  distinguishing  them« 
For  in  cootempfaiting  the  innumerable  forms  of  things, 
one  of  tbe  first  reflections  which  occurs  is,  that  there  are 
some  which  have  an  immediate  agreement,  and  some 
wiiich  are  directly  contrary  to  each  other.  The  mind, 
theseforey  contemplates  thoye  objecta  which  have  a  re« 
sembhince  in  their  universal  nature  in  such  a  manner^ 
as  naturally  to  inquire  whethn*  in  any  respect  they  so 
disagree,  as  to  furnish  any  mark  of  discrimination ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  investigates  those  which  are  generally 
diferent  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  remark  whether,  kk 
dieir  circumstances  or  adjuncts,  they  may  not  possess 
something  in  common,  which  may  serve  as  a  bond  of 
connexion  or  association  to  class  or  unite  them^  The 
final  cause  of  the  fwmer  of  these  operations  seems  to  be 
—to  caution  and  guard  us  against  error,  in  confound* 
iqg  one  with  another ;  of  the  latter,  to  form  a  kind  of 


104  SIMILE,  OR  Lect.  12. 

repository  of  knowledge,  which  may  be  resorted  to,  as 
occasion  serves,  either  for  utility  or  pleasure.     These 
constitute  {the  two  facultiesT^which  are  distinguished  by 
^  -  "7     the  names  of  judgement  and  imagination.'^    As  accura- 
cy of  judgement  is  demonstrated  by  discovering  in 
things,  which  have  in  general  a  very  strong  resemblance» 
/  some  partial  disagreement ;  so  the  genius  or  fa^cy  is  en- 
titled to  the  highest  commendation,  when  in  those  ob« 
jects,  which  upon  the  whole  have  the  least  agreement, 
some  striking  similarity  is  traced  out;^*     In  those  com- 
I^arisons,  therefore,  the  chief  purpose  of  which  is  orna- 
ment or  pleasure,  thus  far  may  pass  for  ah  established 
principle,  thtt  they  are  most  likely  to  accomplish  this 
^d,  when  the  image  is  not  only  elegant  and  agreeable, 
but  is  also  taken  from  an  object,  which  in  the  general  is 
materially  difierent  from  the  subject  of  comparison,  and 
oAly  aptly  and  pertinently  agrees  with  it  in  one  pr  two 
of  its  attributes. 

But  I  shall  probably  explain  myself  better  by  an  ex- 
aniple.  There  is  in  Virgil  a  comparison,  borrowed  from 
Homer,  of  a  boiling  caldron."  Supposing  in  each  poet 
the  versificatit)n  and  description  equally  elegant ;  still, 
as  the  relation  between  the  things  compared  is  different, 
so  the  grace  and  beauty  of  the  comparison  is  different  in 
the  two  poets.  In  Homer  the  waters  of  the  river  Xan- 
thiis  boiling  in  their  chjinnel  by  the  fire,  which  Vulcan 

f  Spe  Ho^EBJiB  qf  Buma^  JVkfitr^  c.  X.  sect  4^  and  Locke  o/Buman  Un*, 
derffandinjr^  B.  xi.  c.  11.  sect  % 

IB  •(  £u<^ance  of  expression  consists  in  metaphors»  neither  too  remote, 

^'Whreh'^e  difScult  to  be  tmderstood ;   nor  too  simple  and  superficial, 

<Mti|ch  dq  im  affect  the  passions/'    Akist.  Rhet.  iii.  10.    '<  For,  as  was; 

"  befoce^c^scrved,  xpetaphors  roust  be  taken  from  objects  that  are  familiar» 

^<  ^'et  not  too  plain  aiid  common  :  As  in  philosophy  it  is  a  mark  of  sagacity 

"  to  "discern  saiiiKtude  even  in  ver}'  dissimilar  thingfs.*    lA  c.  ii. 

•  .    .        ;  AvthorU  AV#C. 

;» .JEn,  v\\.  462.    //.  xxi.  362- 


LxcT.  13.  •       COMPARISON.  165 

has  thrown  into  the  river,  are  compared  with  the  boiling 
of  a  heated  caldron  ;  but  Virgil  compares  with  the  same 
object  the  mind  of  Turnus  agitated  by  the  torch  of  the 
fiiiy  Alecto.  -  The  one  brings  together  ideas  manifestlj 
alike,  or  rather  indeed  the  same,  and  only  differing  in 
circumstances ;  the  other,  on.the  contrary,  assimilates 
objects,  which  are  evidently  very  different  in  their  nature, 
but  aptly,  agreeing  in  some  of  their  adjuncts  or  circum- 
stances. Thus  the  comparison  of  the  Latin  poet  is  new, 
diversified,  and  agreeable ;  but  that  of  the  Greek,  al- 
though not  destitute  of  force  in  illustrating  the  subject, 
is  undoubtedly  wantmg  in  all  the  graces  of  variety,  or- 
nament, and  splendour. 

For  the  same  reason,  there  is  perhaps  no  compariscm 
of  any  poet  extant  more  ingenious,  more  elegant  or  per- 
fect in  its  kind,  than  the  following  of  the  same  excellent 
poet: 

^  The  hero  floating  in  a  flood  of  care, 

«  Beholds  the  tempest  which  hisfoes  prepare : 

<*  To  difi*erent  objects  turns  his  anxious  mind ; 

^  Thinks,  and  rejects  the  counsels  he  design^ ; 

^  Explores  himself  in  vain,  in  every  part, 

*<  And  gives  no  rest  to  his  distracted  heart. 

**  So  when  the  sun  by  day,  or  moon  by  night, 

«  Strike  on  the  polish'd  brass  their  trembling  light, 

«  The  glitt'ring  species  variously  divide, 

^  And  caai  their  dubious  beams  from  side  to  side ; 

*<  Now  on  the  walls,  now  on  the  pavement  play, 

^  And  to  the  cieling  flash  the  glaring  day."*^ 

He  appears  to  be  indebted  fpr  this  passage  to  Apollo- 
nius  Rhodius : 

<<  In  sad  review  dire  scenes  of  horror  rise, 

<<  Quick  beats  her  heart,  from  thought  to  thought  she  flies ; 

*«  As  from  the  stream-stor'd  vase  with  dubious  ray 

9  Dbtd.  Viv^,  JEn,  viii.  28. 


U6  SIMILE,  (Ml  Iact.  19. 

«<  The  tuihbeamt  danciag  from  tKe  «mfiotflliri 
■<  Now  here,  now  there,  the  treiiibliai^  nUlieMe  fiUle» 
M  Altehiate  flashiDg  round  th*  iUumUi'd  waUa : 
«  Thus  flottering  bounds  the  trembting  Tirgin's  bk)od, 
M  And  frem  her  eyes  descends  a  p^erijr  flood.*^ 

In  tlus  description,  Vir^l,  as  usual,  has  much  improved 
upoa  his  original;  and  particuhurly  in  that  circum- 
stance, which  is  the  most  essential  of  all^  that  on  which 
the  fitness  of  the  comparison  depends,  and  which  forms 
the  hinge,  as  it  were,  upon  which  it  turns,  he  has  great- 
ly surpassed  the  ancient  author. 

It  appears,  therefore,  diat  in  comparisons,  the  chief 
detdgn  of  which  is  ornament  or  variety,  the  principal 
excellence  results  from  the  introduction  of  an  image 
different  in  kind,  but  correspondent  in  some  particular 
circumstances.  There  are,  however,  two  capkal  im- 
perfections, to  which  this  6gure  is  sometimes  fiable : 
one,  when  objects  too  dissimilar,  and  dissimilar  chiefly 
in  the  adjuncts  or  circumstances,  are  forced  into  com* 
parison ;  the  other,  and  not  less  common  or  important, 
though  perhaps  less  adverted  to^  when  the  relation  or 
resembhnce  is  in  general  too  exact  and  minute.  The 
comparison  in  the  one  case  is  monstrous  and  whimsic- 
al ;^  in  the  other  it  is  groveling  and  inanimate. 

•1  Fawus^s  «JiyMtovikt,  B»  iiL  SIS. 

n  The  prineiiNil  fkult  wUch  I  hftre  observed  in  the  coaps^Mas  of  Ute 
Orientak  is,  tfast  the  resemUance  is  olten  too  ftncilkl  and  wottt.  They 
are,  howerer,  fiotsingvhrinthurespesti  the  foUoi^  ooeeis  id  oneof 
our  most  elegit  poema»  and  in  my  opinioii  it  is  ia  this  respeet  very  vepne- 
hensible.  DesctMn^the  rillsceClergymsn»  sndhiscsi«<Mrhb 
poet  proceeds : 

**  His  ready  amile  a  parent's  warmth  expressed» 

**  Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  eares  distresiM  t 

**  To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  grieis  weie  given, 

"  But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  hesTen. 

"  As  some  Ull  cliflTthat  lifts  iU  awful  form, 

*  Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  lenves  t^  storm. 


l^n.  19.  CMfPARISON.  167 

Examples  iMummbk  in  ffliistnidoii  of  the  present 
subject  might  be  found  in  die  sacred  poetiy :  I  shall» 
however^  produce  not  more  than  two  from  Isaiah.  The 
first  from  the  historical  narration  of  the  confederacy  be- 
tween the  Syrians  and  the  Israelites  against  the  king* 
dom  of  Judah,  **  which  when  it  was  told  unto  the  king/' 
says  the  prophet»  *'  his  heart  was  moved,  and  the  hearts 
'*  of  his  people,  as  the  trees  of  the  wood  are  moved 
^  with  the  wind.**^  The  oAer  n  a  poetical  compari- 
son,  which  is  fuller  and  more  diffuse  than  the  custom 
of  the  Hebrews  generally  admits;  die  subject  of  cor- 
respondent applicadon,  however,  is  perfecdy  exact. 
The  £vine  gmce,^  and  its  eflfects,  are  compared  widi 


«TWToaiditftbtttttteMlttRi^claiidtafe  wpntAf 

^  Mftrmal  mmddm  m$k9  m  hU  h€«^^         Dferted  VOUige.    T. 

The»  11  paotber  d«frct  in  thb  paMaget  which  pertiapa  ia  the  real  casse 
of  that  here  pointed  out,  ariaing^  from  .the  use  of  the  term  Aa»  by  which  the 
reaenblaMA  WtwMft  the  wouAtain  aaA  the  maa  ia  annoanoed :  iMt  tonen- 
tipn  the  waitof  the  antithetical  aa»  which  abould  ncoeaaarily  have  itttro* 
duced  a  further  application  of  the  aimile.    S.  H. 

St  IsAi.  TiL  2. 

M  This  psaaage  of  the  prophet  loaea  much  of  ita  poetical  beauty  if  it  be 
not  rightlf  imdcBBlood.  He  i>  not  apeakiny  of  that  jnacg»  wiiich  ikm  achool 
dsTinea  treat  of,  and  which  haa  been  celebrated  aince  the  time  of  Auguatine 
in  ao  many  controTeraiea,  nor  of  the  Turtue  and  efficacy  of  the  gospel  in 
conecting  the  morals  of  mankind,  but  of  the  oertain  aocompliahmcnt  of 
the  prophetic  word.  It  waa  very  cuatomary  among  the  Hehvewa  to  com- 
pare the  word  of  Ood»  and  particutiffly  the  word  ef  pMphecy,  to  a  ahower 
Hi  rakit  Dmv.  ssjeU.  S.  Bsbk.  xxL  %  Sfie.  ii.  &  Job  szix.  33»  23. 
When»  tharelbre^tt  ia  their  intenlkm  to  describe  the  otrtain  and  inevitable 
■ccampliihment  of  the  dsnne  qraclaa,  they  lepraaant  the  earth  aa  impr^- 
nated  and  fertilised  by  thio  rafraahing  raui.  laaiah  haa  celebrated  in  the 
slth  chapter,  aa  weU  as  in  the  chapter  under  our  conaiderationy  vcr.  3,  4» 
and  5,  the  eternal  covenant  of  God  with  the  laraelitea,  and  the  aecompliah- 
ment  of  that  perpetual  and  permanent  grace  which  he  had  awem  to  David» 
namely»  that  an  eternal  and  immortal  King  should  ait  upon  his  throne ; 
and  that  he  should  rule  and  direct  the  heathen.  If  these  should  appear  to 
any  person  above  credibility,  he  advisea  him  to  recollect  that  the  divine 
counaeb  are  far  above  the  reach  of  the  human  understanding ;  and  that 
those  thiQga  are  euy  to  him,  which  appear  most  difficult  to  us.    He  adds. 


168  SIMILE,  OR  LscT.  13. 

showers  that  fertilize  the  earth  :  an  imag?  which  is  u- 
niformly  appropriated  to  that  purpose  : 

*«  Verily  like  as  the  rain  descendetht 

«  And  the  snow  from  the  heavens ; 

«  And  thither  it  doth  not  return  : 

<<  But  moisteneth  the  earth, 

«  And  maketh  it  generate,  and  pot  forth  its  increase ; 

<«  That  it  may  give  seed  to  the  sower,  and  bread  to  the  eater : 

«  So  shall  be  the  word  which  goeth  from  my  mouth ; 

«« It  shall  not  return  unto  me  fruitless ; 

"  But  it  shall  effect,  what  I  have  willed  ; 

<<  And  make  the  purpose  suceeed,  for  which  I  have  sent  it."^ 

More  examples,  and  of  superior  elegance,  may  be  found 
in  the  Song  of  Solomon  :^  it  must  not,  indeed,  be  dis- 
sembled, that  there  are  some  in  that  poem,  which  are 
very  reprehensible,  on  account  of  that  general  disso- 
nance, and  fanciful  agreement,  which  I  have  just  re- 
marked'^  as  a  great  imperfection  attending  the  free  use 
of  this  figure.  We  must  be  cautious,  however,  lest  in 
some  cases  we  charge  the  poet  with  errors,  which  are 
in  reality  our  own ;  since  many  of  the  objects,  which 
suggested  these  comparisons,  arc  greatly  obscured,  and 
some  of  them  removed  entirely  beyond  the  sphere  of 

that  the  sacred  oracles,  however  miraculous,  will  most  assuredly  be  ful- 
filled i  that  the  vfortl  of  God  may  be  compared  to  «now  or  rain  ;  vfuch  doet 
not  return  to  heaven,  before  it  has  performed  its  office  of  toatering-  andfe- 
eundatmg'  the  earth :  so  it  is  with  the  prophetic  decreet^  or  the  diwne  pre^ 
dictiont  of  future  eventB,  And  in  this  light  I  understand  the  passage  from 
the  context,  both  from  what  precedes,  and  what  follows.  There  is  one 
similar  in  ch.  xlv.  8,  but  the  idea  is  more  condensed,  assuming  rather  the 
form  of  a  metaphor  or  allegor}',  than  of  a  comparison : 

"  Drop  down,  O  ye  heavens,  the  dew  from  above ; 

•*  And  let  the  clonds  shower  down  righteousness  : 

**  Let  the  earth  open  her  bosom,  and  let  salvation  produce  her  fruit ; 

'*  And  let  justice  push  forth  her  bud  together."    M. 

MI»  Ai.lv.  10,  11. 

««  See  Cawt.  iv.  1—5,  farther  explained  X-ect.  XXXI. 

*f  See  Cajtt.  vii.  2—4. 


Lfter.  IS.  COMPARISON.  16^ 

our  knowledge  by  distance  of  time  and  place.  It  is 
the  part  of  a  wise  man  not  rashly  to  condemn  what  we 
are  able  but  partially  to  comprehend. 

These  three  forms,  according  to  which,  for  the  sake 
of  perspicuity,  I  have  ventured  to  class  comparisons  in 
general,  are  however  not  so  incompatible,  that  they  may 
not  occasionally  meet,  and  be  variously  blended  with 
each  other.  That  indeed  appears  to  be  the  most  per- 
fect comparison,  which  combines  all  these  different  ob- 
jects, and  while  it  explains,  serves  at  the  same  time  to 
ampKfy  and  embellish  the  subject ;  and  which  possesses 
evidence  and  elevation  seasoned  with  elegance  and  va« 
riety.  A  more  complete  example  is  scarcely  to  be  found 
than  that  passage,  in  which  Job  impeaches  the  infidelity 
and  ingratitude  of  his  friends,  who  in  his  adversity  de« 
nied  him  those  consolations  of  tenderness  and  sympathy, 
which  in  his  prosperous  state,  and  when  he  needed  them 
not,  they  tiad  lavished  upon  him :  he  compares  them 
with  streams,  which,  increased  by  the  rains  of  winter, 
overflow  their  borders,  and  display  for  a  little  time  a 
copious  and  majestic  torrent ;  but  with  the  first  impulse 
of  the  solar  beams  are  suddenly  dried  up,  and  leave 
those,  who  unfortunately  wander  through  the  <leserts  of 
Arabia,  destitute  of  water,  and  perishing  with  thirst.^ 

Thus  far  of  oomparisons  in  general,  and  of  their  mat^ 
ter  and  intention :  it  remains  to  add  a  few  words  con- 
cerning the  particular  form  and  manner,  in;  which  the 
Hebrews  usually  exhibit  them. 

The  Hebrews  introduce  comparisons  more  freqt^endy 
perhaps  than  the  poets  of  any  other  nation ;  but  the 
brevity  of  them  in  general  compensates  for  their  abund- 
ance.    The  resemblance  usually  turns  upon  a  single 

«  Job  tL  U— 20. 

22 


Iff^  WMILE,  OR  L»CT-  ISL 

drcimstmce :  that  thcy  explain  in  the  most  simpki 
terms,  rarely  introducing  any  thing  at  all  foreign  to  thf 
purpose.  The  following  example,  therefore,  is  almost 
singular,  since  it  is  loaded  with  an  extraordinary  accca« 
sion,  or  I  might  almost  say  a  supcrHuity  of  adjuncts : 

«<  Let  thenv  be  m  grsas  upon  the  house-top, 
•«  Which,  before  h  groweth  up,  ift  whhered  : 
«  With  which  the  mower  fiUeth  not  his  himd ; 
u  Nor  he  that  gothereth  the  sheaves  his  bosom  i 
w  Nor  do  thcy  that  pass  by  say, 
tt  The  blessing  of  Jsmoya»  be  upon  you  ;■» 
M  We  bless  you  in  the  name  of  Jshovah*'^* 

The  usual  practice  of  the  Hebrews  is,  indeed,  very  dit 
ferent  from  this :  sometimes  a  single  word,  and  com- 
monly a  very  ^ort  sentence,  comprehends  the  whole 
comparison.  This  peculiarity  proceeds  from  the  nature 
of  the  sententious  style,  which  is  always  predominant  in 
the  Hebrew  poetry,  and,  as  I  before  remarke^,  consists 
in  condensing  and  compressing  every  exuberance  of  ex- 
pression, and  rendering  it  close  and  pointed.  Thus,  in 
the  very  parts  in  which  other  poets  are  copious  and  dif- 
fuse, the  Hebrews,  on  the  contrary,  arc  brief,  energetic^ 
and  animated ;  not  gliding  along  in  a  smooth  and  equal 
stream,  but  with  the  inequality  and  impetuosity  of  a  tor- 
rent Thtts  their  comparisons  assume  a  peculiar  form 
and  appearance ;  for  it  is  not  so  much  their  custom  to 
dilate  and  embellish  each  particular  image  with  a  varieqr 
of  adjtmcts,  as  to  heap  together  a  number  of  parallel  and 
analogous  comparisons,  all  of  which  are  expressed  in  a 
style  of  the  utmost  brevity  and  simplicity.  Moses  com- 
pares the  celestial  influence  of  the  divine  song,  which  he 
utters  by  tlie  command  of  God,  with  showers  which 

»  A  customary  expression  made  nse  of  in  this  businets.    See  Rutb  ii.  4. 
90  PiAui  cJLxix.  6—8.    See  also  Psaxji  cxzxiiL  3. 


JLncr.  i%  COMPARISON.  in 

water  the  fields ;  and  on  an  occasion  when  a  Greek  or 
Catin  poet  would  have  been  contented  wkb  a  single 
comparison,  perhaps  a  little  more  diffused  and  diversi- 
fied, he  has  introdaced  two  pairs  of  similes  exacify  ex^ 
pressive  of  the  same  thing : 

M  My  doctricTe  «hall  drop  as  the  rain ; 

«^  My  laDgaage  shall  alight  lika  the  daw  t 

M  As  the  small  rain  upon  the  tender  herb ; 

M  And  like  the  thkk  drops  upon  the  grass/**  * 

The  Psalmbt  makes  bse  of  the  same  form  in  flie  fol- 
lowing: 

<«  O  my  God !  make  them  as  the  chalT  whirled  libout ; 

**  As  the  stubble  before  the  wind : 

K  As  the  fire  bumeth  the  foresti 

**  And  as  the  flame  kindleth  the  mountains ; 

<(  So  do  thou  pursue  them  with  thyr  temipestSt 

«  And  with  thy  whirlwind  make  them  afraid."'' 

This  is,  indeed,  the  most  common,  but  by  no  means 
the  (Mily  form  which  this  %ure  assumes  in  the  Hebrew 
poetry  :  there  is  another,  in  which  the  comparison  is 
more  diffusively  displayed;  in  which  case  the  equal  dis- 
tribution of  the  sentences  is  still  strictly  adhered  to ;  the 

n  DsvT.  xxxii.  2. 

»  FsAiM.  Ixxxiii.  13 — 15.  Between  these  two  comparisons  there  exiRts 
so  nice  a  relation»  that  they  would  form  one  simple  comparison»  were  it  not 
that  the  sententious  distribution  of  the  verses  had  disposed  the  subject  in 
a  different  form  and  order.  Their  threshing-floors  were  so  constructed  in 
open  shuationsy  that  when  the  eom  was  beaten  out,  the  wind  carried  off 
the  ehaff  and  straw,  which  beings  cdUecled  together  was  burnt  See  IsAr. 
V.  34.  Marr.  iii.  13.  snd  Hammofu's  Cm*.  Sagw»^  howeTer,  is  used  for  any 
high  and  uncultivated  place,  as  appears  from  Mic.  iii.  13.  *'  This  sense  of 
^  the  word  is  also  confirmed  from  the  Arabic  Vagnar^  a  mountain  steep 
^  and  difficult  of  access.**    H.    A»Uk»f*9  JVW». 

Perhaps  it  may  be  thought  too  free  a  version  to  render  Dbnan  'ins'^a^ 
**  And  with  thy  whirlwind  involve  them  in  terror''-^ 
hut  the  words  themselves  seem  to  comprise  no  Icbs^f— Ptirnie  $hem  -mUh  % 
i^mp99U  is  an  evident  reference  1«  the  di99ipathn  ^f  the  ehaff,  and  what  f<d. 
lows  relate  clearly  Xo  the  expaneien  ^theJUme.    8.  & 


17%  SIMILE,  Ut*  LscT.  19. 

iipage  itadf,  however,  is  not  repeated,  but  its  attributes, 
which  explain  one  another  in  two  parallel  sentences ;  as 
Moses  has  done  in  a  comparison  immediately  following 
that  which,  I  just  now  quoted,  in  which  he  compares  the 
care  and  paternal  affection  of  the  Deity  for  his  people, 
with  the  natural  tenderness  of  the  eagle  for  its  young : 

**  As  the  eagle  stirreth  up  her  oest ; 

M  Flottereth  over  her  youDf^  ; 

•«  Expandeth  her  plumes,  uketh  them ; 

«  Bearctb  them  upon  her  wing*."'* 

The  same  is  observable  also  in  that  most  elegant  com* 
parison  of  Job,  which  I  formerly  commended ;  and 
which  for  this  reason  I  shall  now  quote  entire,  by  way 
of  conclusion  : 

<(  My  brethren  have  dealt  deceitfully  like  a  torrent, 

«  As  the  torrents  of  the  valleys  they  are  passed  away ; 

M  Which  are  conf^ealed'^  by  means  of  the  frost, 

M  The 'snow  hideth  itself  in  their  surface  ; 

tt  As  soon  as  they  flow,  they  are  dried  up, 

<«  When  it  is  hot  they  are  consumed  from  their  place ; 

»  The  paths  of  their  channels  are  diminished, 

«<  They  ascend  in  vapour,  and  are  lost. 

**  Look  for  them,  yc  troops  of  Tema ; 

M  Ye  travellers  of  Sheba,  expect  them  earnestly. 

•(  They  made  no  haste  ;  because  they  depended  on  them ; 

♦«  They  game  thither,  then  were  they  confounded."" 

n  Dkitt.  zzxii.  11, 

3i  Or,  M  Dr.  Durell  proposes,  which  nix^  sttu  i  as  thoa^  the  original 
)uui  been  pnTprr,  i|iite«d  of  Em'>pn.^For  this  elegant  emendation  the 
learned  doctor  is  indebted  to  Father  Uoubigant,  but  he  forgot  to  mention 
iu  author  :  Mr.  Heath,  bowerer»  had  a  better  memory.    8.  H. 

U  Job  ri.  15—20.  **  In  the  fifth  line  the  word  i3->r  is  one  of  those  which 
'<  only  once  occur  in  tlie  scripture.  In  the  Arabic  and  Chsldee,  the  proper 
*'  force  of  the  verb  am  is  tojl^w,  tojltw  o^/or  fo  over/law  .*  thus  the  sense 
"  will  be.  In  the  time,  in  vhich  theyjiww^  or  JItim  of  f  that  is,  aie  dissolved 
«<  by  the  melting  of  the  ice.**    U. 

In  the  30th  verse  it  jippears  one  should  rtsd  Vl9d»  with  the  8t»I4c  and 


LECTURE  XIII. 

OF  THE  PROSOPOPGBIA,  OR  PEBfiONIFICATIOlf. 

Two  kinds  of  Perionification  :  when  a  cluuracter  ia  assigned  to  fictitious  or 
inanimate  objecta,  and  when  a  probable  speech  is  attributed  to  a  real  per- 
son—^  fictitious  and  inanimate  characters  ;  of  real  characters — The 
Prosopopoeia  of  the  mother  of  Sisera  (in  the  song  of  Deborah)  explained : 
also  the  triumphal  song  of  the  Israelites  concerning  the  death  of  the 
king  of  Babylon,  (in  Isaiah)  which  consists  altogether  of  this  figure,  and 
ezhibita  it  in  all  its  different  forms/ 

JLhe  last  in  order  of  those  figures,  which  I  proposed  to 
treat  of,  .as  being  most  adapted  to  the  parabolic  style,  is 
the  Prosopopceia,  or  Penonificatioiu^    Of  this  figure 

1  The  passions  of  resentment  and  We  have  been  very  accimitely  traced 
by  some  late  writers  on  the  human  mind,  into  the  senses  of  pain  and  pleas- 
ure ;  the  one  arising  from  the  habitual  inclination  to  remove  what  is  hurt» 
iiil ;  the  other  from  that  of  possessing  what  is  a  source  of  grateful  sensa* 
tions,  and  a  mean  of  increasing  pleasure.  (See  HAaxLiT  On  Man^  and  A 
DiuertaHtn  prefixed  to  Riko's  Origin  of  Evil  J  The  strong  expression 
of  these  passions  is,  however,  chiefly  directed  to  rational,  or  at  least  to 
animated  beings  ;  but  this  is  the  effect  of  reason  and  habit.  The  passions 
are  still  the  same,  and  will  frequently  display  tliemselves  in  opposition  to 
resson.  A  child  turns  to  beat  the  ground,  or  the  stone,  that  has  hurt  him ; 
(see  Lord  Kaixs's  Element*  of  Criticism  sj  and  most  men  £eel  some  degree 
of  afl'ection  even  for  the  old  inanimate  companions  of  their  happiness.  From 
these  dispositions  originates  the  figure,  which  is  the  great  and  distinguish» 
ing  ornament  of  poetry,  the  prosopopoeia.  This  figure  is  nearly  allied  to 
the  metaphor,  and  still  more  to  the  metonymy ;  it  is  to  the  latter,  what 
the  allegory  is  to  the  metaphor.  Thus  when  we  say-*-*^  Youth  and  beauty 
riudl  be  laid  in  the  dust,'*  for  penons  possessing  youth  and  beauty,  it  is 
hard  to  determine  whether  it  be  a  metonymy  or  a  prosopopoeia.  Lyric 
poetry,  in  which  the  imagination  seems  to  have  the  fullest  indulgence,  and 
1^^  nbounds  with  itrong  figures,  is  most  favourable  to  personification. 

T, 


\7l  PERSONIFICATION.  Lect.  13. 

there  are  two  kinds.  One,  when  action  and  character 
are  attributed  to  fictitious,  irrational,  or  even  inanimate 
objects ;  the  other,  when  a  probable  but  fictitious  speech 
is  assigned  to  a  real  character.  The  former  evidently 
partakes  of  the  nature  of  the  metaphor,  and  is  by  Far  the 
boldest  and  most  daring  of  that  class  of  figures.  Sea« 
sonably  introduced,  therefore,  it  has  uncommon  force  and 
expression  ;  and  in  no  hands  whatever  is  more  success- 
ful in  this  respect  than  in  those  of  the  Hebrew  writers  : 
I  may  add  also,  that  none  more  frequently  or  more  free- 
ly  introduce  it. 

In  the  first  place  then,  with  respect  to  fictitious  char, 
acters,  the  Hebrews  liave  this  in  common  with  other 
poets,  that  they  frequently  assign  character  and  actikm 
to  an  abstract  or  general  idea,  and  introduce  it  in  a  man- 
ner acting,  and  even  speaking  as  upon  the  stage.*  In 
Uiisi  while  they  equal  the  most  refined  writers  in  ele- 
gance and  grace,  they  greatly  excel  the  most  sublime 
in  force  and  majesty.  What,  indeed,  can  be  conceived 
apter,  more  beautiful,  or  more  sublime,  than  that  per- 
sonification of  Wisdom,  which  Solomon  so  frequently 
introduces  ?  exhibiting  her  not  only  as  the  director  of 
human  life  and  morals,  as  the  inventor  of  arts,  as  the 
dispenser  of  wealth,  of  honour,  and  of  real  felicity  ;  bat 
as  the  immortal  offspring  of  the  omnipotent  Creator, 
and  as  the  eternal  associate  in  the  divine  counsels : 

«  There  is  a  very  atuniated  penonificatloii  of  this  kind  in  one  (rf*  Dr.  0;< 
dcn*8  lemionf,  thougti  by  some  it  may  perhaps  be  thought  too  bold  for  that 
•pacies  of  oompoaitioii.-^  Truth,"  says  that  elegit  and  sublime  writer, 
*■  is  indeed  of  an  awful  presence,  and  must  not  be  affronted  with  the  nide> 
«•  nessof  direct  opposition ;  yet  will  she  sometimes  condescend  t^  pass  for  a 
««  moment  unregarded,  while  your  respects  are  paid  to  her  sister  Charity.*» 
That  of  Bishop  Sherlock,  which  our  author  has  quoted  in  his  admirable 
Introductton  to  English  Grammar»—"  Go  to  your  Natural  rd^on,  lay  be» 
*'  fore  her  Mahomet  and  his  disciples,  ficc.'*  is  well  known,  and  is  one  of 
th«  finest  examples  of  this  figure  I  ha?e  ever  seen.    T» 


tMX.  Uk.  PSRSONIFICATION.  ITS 

M  Wheahe  prepAred  th^  facaf^Ds»  I  wat  prf«M)t ;. 

«  Wiien  he  debcribe4  a  circle  on  the  face  oC  the  deep  ; 

<<  When  he  disposed  the  aimoBphere  above  ; 

<K  When  he  ctubliahed  the  fountaios  of  the  deep :. 

<«  When  lie  pubiisbed  hi»)  decree  to  the  tea* 

M  Tluit  the  water»  should  not  pass  their  hound  ( 

<<  When  he  planned  the  foundations  of  the  earth : 

M  Then  was  i  by  Itim  as  his  offspring  ; 

<<  And  I  was  daily  his  delight ; 

M  1  rejoiced  continually  before  him. 

«  1  rejoiced  in  the  habiuble  part  of  his  earth» 

M  And  my  delighu  were,  with  the  sons  of  men/'^ 

How  admirable  is  that  celebrated  personification  of  the 
divine  attributes  by  the  Psalmist  ?  How  just,  elegant^ 
and  splendid  does  it  appeiMr»  if  applied  only  according  to 
the  literal  sense,  to  the  restoration  of  the  Jewish  nation 
from  the  Babylonish  captivity  ?  but  if  interpreted  as  re- 
lating to  that  s^blimeTi  more  sacred  and  mystical  sense, 
which  is  not  obscurely  shadowed  nnder  the  ostensible 
image,  it  is  certainly  uncommonly  noble  and  ekvatedi 
mysterious  and  sublime : 

^  Mercy  and  Truth  are  met  together ; 

*<  Righteousness  and  Peace  have  kissed  each  other/'4 

There  are  many  passages  of  a  similar  kind,  ezqui- 
ately  imagined,  and,  from  the  boldness  of  the  fiction, 
extrenu^ly  forcible.  Such  is  that  in  Habakkuk,  of  the 
Pestilence  marking  before  Jehovas  when  he  comes 
to  vengeance :'  that  in  Job,  in  which  Destruction  and 
Death  affirm  of  Wisdom,  that  her  fame  only  had  come 
to  their  ears  :*  in  fine  (that  I  may  not  be  tedious  in 
quoting  examples)  that  tremendous  image  in  Isaiah,  of 
Hades^  extending  her  throat,  and  opening  her  insatiable 
and  immeasurable  jaws.* 

«  Pmot.  ▼iii.  27—31.  ^  PsAi.  IzxxY.  11.  »  Ha».  iiL  5» 

*  Job  zxviii.  32.  V  Isai.  ▼.  14. 

•  I  hA^e  not  obsenred,  eren  in  die  Hebrew  poetry,  a  bolder  ase  of  this 


176  PERSONIFICATION.  Lacr.  M. 

There  is  also  another  most  beautiful  species  of  per- 
sonification, which  originates  from  a  well-known  He- 
figure»  than  in  a  passage  of  Tacitus,  An.  16,  31.  TVtictiCalft  tot  inngnUnu 
virU^  adpogtremum  ,Afh%  Virtuiem  ipoam  exoeindere  ctmetipMt,  mter/eet9 
TknueOf  he  **  After  the  alaagfater  of  so  many  excellent  men»  Nefo  med^ 
**  itated  at  length  the  extiipation  of  Virtue  henelf  by  the  ssciifice  of 
*  Thraseap"  kc. 

In  the  openiag  of  Col&uis'b  Ode  t§  Merqf  is  a  noble  example  of  the  Plo- 
Sopopoiia: 

**  Thou,  who  sitt'st  a  smiling  bride» 

^  By  Valour's  arm'd  and  airful  side,"  tec. 
Bat  the  whole  compass  of  English  poetry  cannot  furnish  a  more  beentiftd 
specimen  than  the  following : 

**  Loud  howls  the  storm !  the  rex'd  Atlantic  roars ! 

**  Thy  Genius,  Britain,  wanders  on  its  shores ! 

'*  Hears  cries  of  horror  wafted  from  afar, 

**  The  groans  of  anguish,  'mid  the  shrieks  of  war ! 

"  Hears  the  deep  curses  of  the  great  and  braTe, 

**  Sigh  in  the  wind,  and  murmur  in  the  wave ! 

**  O'er  his  damp  brow  the  sable  crape  he  binds» 

"  And  throws  his  victor-garland  to  the  winds." 

•MMt  Sxwimn's  Manotfy  on  Major  Andre. 
How  different  are  these  instances  from  the  frigid  attempts  of  inferior 
writers!    The  following  personification  is. completely  ridiculous.    It  ia^ 
however»  extracted  firom  a  poem»  which  has  been  highly  extolled  by  one 
who  calls  himself  a  critic : 

**  Invidious  Cfrove,  how  dost  thou  rend  in  sunder 

**  Whom  love  has  knit»  and  sympathy  made  one  f^ 

The  Oraoe^  a  Poem. 
It  IS  a  happy  thing,  that  as  there  are  poets  of  all  degrees,  there  are  also 
critics  of  taste  and  judgement»  exactly  equal  and  correspondent  to  them. — 
Par  nMle  !  The  picture  of  a  grane  rending  a  thing  in  eunder,  can  only  be 
matched  by  the  fbUowiag  passages»  from  the  same  incomparable  perform- 
ance: 

■  **  But !  tell  us»  why  this  waste» 

*'  Why  this  ado  in  earthing  up  a  carcase 

**  That's  fidlen  into  disgrace,  and  to  the  sense 

««  Smells  horrible  ?  Ye  undertakero  /  tell  us^ 

"  Whtre  sre  the  mighty  thunderbolts  of  war  ? 

^  Alas !  how  «&'m,  ^honourably  oKm  /" 

**  Now  tame  and  humble»  Uke  a  child  thafo  whipped, 
**  Shake  hands  with  dust»"  fca 
**  Perhaps  oome  hackney^  kmgerMtten  oeribbler 
<*  Insults  thy  memory." 


LBC9.  yL  PBMOMVfCA/rittli.  tTT 

brew  idiomt  and  tin  «hit  aoeomit  n  very  bmHikf  to  us ; 
I  allude  to  that  form  of  expression,  by  which  the  sub- 
ject, attribute,,  accident,  or  effect  of  any  thing  isdenom* 
inated  the  son.  Hence  in  the  Hebrew  poetry,  nations» 
regions,  peoples,  are  brought  upon  the  stage  as  it  were 
in  a  female  character : 

««  Dai#f  nd  Asd  tit  im  the  dmHj  O  virglm  dpoglilar  of  Babylon } 
«<  Sit  OD  Ui6  bare  groimd  wiibout  a  throne,  O  daQ|^er  of  the 

«« Chaldeans  :* 
^  For  thou  fthilt  no  looker  be  called  the  tender  and  the  delicate.*'» 

**  Here  the  link-sided  nber— worst  of  fdont  1 

«  Who  neanir  «tcAe  (diacfeditable  ablft !) 

**  From  back  and  belly  too  their  paroiper  eheer^ 

••  Lies  cheaply  lodg'd." 

**  O  that  some  tourteous  ^^heat  would  blab  it  out, 

«Wiat'tia3«aie,'*afcc 

. "O- gleet  JUm^MT/ 

.    ^  Whose  crery  day  ia  caniiral»  not  sated  yet ! 
*'  Like  one»  whole  days  defrauded  of  bis  meals» 
*<  On  whov  lank  Hunger  lays  his  skinny  hand.** 
Kb  «ond^  the  abore  criHe  could  discover  nothing  suUime  in  Virgil 
and  the  Scriptures.    T. 

t  **  Sitting  on  the  ground  was  a  posture  that  denoted  deep  misery  and 
"  ^stress.  The  prophet  Jsbsxiab  has  given  it  the  first  pUce  among  many 
**  indications  of  sorrow,  in  that  elegant  description  of  the  distress  of  his 
«  country,  (Lax.  il  8.)  *  The  elders  of  the  daughter  pf  Sion  sit  on  th» 
**  ground,  they  axe  silent,'  Ste.  '  We  Jind  Judea^  says  Bfr.  Aodisov,  (oa 
M  Medals,  Dial.  iL)  *  on  teveral  cstnt  of  VeMpatian  and  Titus,  in  a  p09h$rt 
^  that  denote»  eorrom  and  eaptivitjf. — /  need  net  mention  her  sitting  on  the 
**  ground^  beeauoe  we  have  (Uready  opoken  efthe  aptness  efsuch  a  posture  to 
*>  ropreoont  extreme  aJHctien,  Ifanejf  the  Bomano  ndgkt  have  dmejfetotha 
**  customs  of  the  Jewish  nation,  as  veil  as  those  of  their  cstmHy,  m  the  sever» 
**  ml  marks  of  sorrow  they  have  set  on  this  figure.  The  Psahmst  describes  the 
**  Jews  Ummtktg  their  captivitif  in  the  some  pensive  posture .-  *  By  the  waters 
**  of  Babylon  we  sai  down  and  wept,  when  we  remembered  thee,  O  Sion.*  Bsu 
**  what  is  mere  remarkahle,  we  find  Judea  t^epresented  as  a  woman  m  sorrow 
"  sitting  on  the  ground,  in  a  passage  of  the  prophet,  that  foretels  the  very 
"  captivity  recorded  on  this  medaV* 

See  Bishop  I.owTv's  Notes  on  Jsaiah,  chap,  iii,  v.  36. 

V  IsAi.  xivU.  1,  &c. 

23 


ITS  FERSONIFiCMlOir.  Lwiu  tt 

'    ho  I  Sion*ft  daui^bier.prQsinue  ihi  tbe  iCttfHir 

All  moumfult  soliiary,  weepings  lies  ! 

In  vain  her  suppliant  hands  to  heaven  extendi} 

She  sinks  deserted,  and  no  comfort  findt.^  * 

Unless  we  attend  to  this  peculiar  phraseology,  such  ex- 
pressions as  the  '*  Sons  of  the  bow^  and  of  the  qiiiver'** 
for  arrows,  will  seem  extremely  harsh  and  unnatural ; 
as  well  as  that  r^M^kable  personMcatlm  of  lob,  denot- 
mg  the  most  itil^rable  dcath>  *^  The  first-bom  of  the 
"  progeny  of  death."" 

The  parabolic  style  no  less  elegantly  assigns  a  char* 
acter  and  action  to  inanimate  objiectS'  than  to  abstract 
ideas.   The  holy  prophets,  moved  wkh  just  indignation 
against  the  ungrateful  people  of  God,  *^  obtest  the  Heav« 
**  ens  and  the  Earth,  and  command  universal  Nature  ta 
^  be  silent.^    They  plead  their  cause  before  the  Moun-.» 
*^  tains,  and  the  Hilis  listen  to  their  vmee.****    All  i» 
animated  and  informed  with  life,  soul,  and  passicxi : 
^  Let  the  Heavens  rejoice,  and  let  the  Earth  be  glad ; 
^  And  let  them  pracUin  ihiough  tlia  natioQa,  Jbhovak  naagiMih. 
«<  Let  the  Sea  roar,  and  all  that  it  coDtaioeth  j^^ 
*<  The  world,  and  the  inhaUtanta  thereof : 
^  Let  the  Floods  clap  their  handa ;  ' 

*^  Let  the  Mountaina  break  forth  into  barmonj  :^*  • 
tt  Before  Jmuovau,  for  he  cometh, 
<•  For  he  cometh  to  judge  the  earth/' ^*^ 
«  The  Waters  saw  thee,  O  Gud  !  * 

^  The  waters  saw  thee,  theyr  were  grievoosly  troubled  i^* 
^  The  Deep  uttered  his  voice  ; 
«  And  liftr.d  up  his  hands  on  high."*  * 

And  Job  admirably  in  the  same  style : 

<'  Canst  thou  send  forth  the  Lightnings,  and  will  they  go  I 
<>  Shall  they  say  unto  thee.  Behold  here  we  are  ?"** 

u  Lax.  I  1,  &e.      i*  Jos  zll  19.  u  Lax.  iii.  13. 

14  Job  XTiii.  13.        ^  Osut.  zxxiL  1.    Ibai.  i.  3.     <<  M ic.  ri.  1. 
IT  1  Cnov.  xrl  31.        »■  P»At.  xcvui.  7»  8.        »  **»al.  xcvu.  13. 
St  PsAL  IzaTii.  16.  91  Uabax.  iii.  10.   ,        **  Chsp»  xxxriiL  S5l 


lACT.  U.  PBBSQNIPICATIOK.  179 

With  ^ufd  success  diey  introduce  objects,  which  have 
iK>  existence  in  the  order  and  economy  of  nature ;  though 
it  must  be  confessed»  that  it  is  attended  with  much 
greater  hazard  of  propriety ;  for  to  those^  which  are 
arithin  tiie  province  of  natiire,  we  readily  attribute  a  de 
^ee  of  life  and  semiment.  Of  this  the  following  dia- 
logue in.  Jereoiiah  is JHi.  admirable  sf^qimen^^ 

<«  Ho  i  tword  of  Jbhovah  ! 

^  How  long  wilt  thou  not  be  at  rett  I 

^  Return  into  thy  scabbard) 

«<  R(  tHm,  and  be  atill. 

M  How  can  it  be  at  reati 

^  Sinee  JsHOYjkii  iiacli  gitmlt  a'^^vt^e  ? 

«•  \4KaiMt  Aakekm;  and  iigaNiai  the  «^a?cpail« 

,«TUera;halhb€aHpoiiited  iL">»      . 

The  otlierl^indof  prosopopcsiat  to  which  I  alluded  in 
the  former  part  of  this  kctuve»  b  that,  by  which  a  proba- 
ble  but  fictitious  speech  is  assigned  to  a  real,  person.  As 
the  former  is  calculated  to  excite  admiration  and  appro- 
faation  by  ilsaQVcltyt  boldness»  and  varic^  ;  so  the  lat- 
ter, from  its  near  resemblance  to  real  life,  is  possessed 
4xf  great  force,  evidence  and  authority. 

It  would  be.  an  infinite  task  to  specify  every  instance 
in  the  sacred  poenis,  which  pn  this  occasion  might  be 
referred  to  as  worthy  of  notice ;  or  to  remark  the  easy, 
the  natural,  the  bold  and  sudden  personifications ;  the 
dignity,  importance,  and  impassioned  severity  of  the 
characters.  It  would  be  diffi(^ult  to  describe  the  energy 
of  that  eloquence  which  is  attributed  to  Jehovah  him* 
self,  and  which  appears  so  suitable  in  all  respects  to  the 
Divine  Majesty ;  or  to  display  the  force  and  beauty  of 
tlie  language  which  is  so  admirably  and  peculiarly  adapt* 
ed  to  each  character ;  the  probability  of  the  fiction ;  and 
the  excellence  of  the  imitation.    One  example,  there» 


UO  PERSONIFICATIOMl  Lact.  IS. 

fore,  must  suffice  for  the  present ;  one  more  perfect  Ik 
b  not  possible  to  produce.  It  is  expressive  of  the  eager 
expectation  of  the  mother  c^  Sisera,  from  the  inirnitabte 
ode  of  the  prophetess  Detwrah.** 

The  first  sentences  exhibit  a  striking  pieture  of  mw^ 
temal  solicitude,  both  in  words  and  jettons ;  and  of  « 
mbd  suspended  and  s^tated  btureen  h^  and  fear : 

^  ThroQf  h  Uie  window  %ht  looked  afid  cried  out» 
^  The  iD^iher  of  Sisera,  through  the  latdce : 
«  Wherefore  is  his  chariot  $o  long  b  coming  ? 
<*  Wherefore  linger  the  wheels  of  his  chariot  ?" 

Immediately,  impatient  of  his  ddayt  she  anticipates  the 
consolations  of  her  friends»  and  her  mind  being  aome« 
what  elevated,  she  boasts  widi  all  the  levity  of  a  fond 
female; 

(Vast  in  hef  hopes  and  gidd)r  with  success ;) 

^  Her  wise^adies  answer  her ; 

«<  Yea,  sberettima  answer  to  hersdf : 

<<  Have  they  not  found  ?— Have  they  not  diiMod  the  spdl  i" 

Let  us  now  observe»  how  well  adapted  every  sentiment» 
every  word  is  to  the  character  of  the  speaker.  She  takes 
no  account  of  the  slaughter  of  the  enemy,  of  the  valour 
and  conduct  of  the  conqueror»  of  the  multitude  of  the 
captives,  but 

Bums  with  a  female  thirst  of  prey  and  spoils. 

Nothing  is  omitted^  whidi  is  calculated  to  attract  and 
engage  the  passions  of  a  vain  and  trifling  woman»  slaves^ 
gold,  and  rich  apparc}.  Nor  is  she  satisfied  with  the 
bare  enumeration  of  them;  she  repeats»  she  amplifie9n 
she  heightens  every  circumstance ;  she  seems  to  have 
the  very  plunder  in  her  immediate  possession ;  she 
louses  and  contemplates  every  particular ; 


jMo^  mi.  PERtOMincLiTioir.  m 

.  ^  Td  erfff  man  a  iUomcU  yea  a  daoLiel  or  two  ? . 
M  To  Siaera  a  spoil  of  divers  colours  1 
^  A  spoil  of  needlework  of  divers  colours, 
«  A  spoil  for  the  neck*'  of  diVen  colours  of  needlework  on  el^ 

To  iM  !o  the  beauty  of  this  passage,  there  is  also  ail 
uncomibon  neatness  in  the  YersificatioA,  great  force,  ac* 
curacy,  and  perspicuity  m  the  ^ti6ni  <he  mmo^  ele- 
gance in  the  repedtionsi  which,  notwithstandifig  dieir 
apparent  redondancy,  are  conducted  widi  the  noost  t)er* 
iiect  brevity.  In  the  end,  the  fatal  disappointment  of  &• 
male  hope  and  G¥ed«ililyv  tacitly  insinuated  by  die  sud^ 
den  and  iinex j^eeted  aposti'oph^,  -'' 

<•  So  let  all  thine  enemies  perish,  O  Ichovah  !'* 
Is  expressed  more  forcibly  by  diis  very  silence  of  the 
person  who  was  just  speaking,  than  it  could  possibly 
have  .been  by  all  the  powers  of  language. 

But  whoever  wishes  to  understand  the  full  force  and 
excellence  of  this  figure,  as  well  as  the  elegant  use  of  it 
ii^the  Hebrew  ode,  must  apply  to  Isaiah,  whom  I  do 
not  scruple  to  pronounce  the  sublimeat  of  poets*  He 
will  there  find,  in  one  short  poem,  examples  of  almost 
eveiy  form  of  the  Prosopopoeia,  and  indeed  of  all  that 
constitutes  the  sublime  in  composition.  I  trust  it  will 
not  be  thougltf  unseasonable  to  refer  immediately  to  the 
passage  itself,  and  to  remark  a  few  of  the  principal  ex- 
oellencie&^ 

The  prophet,  after  predicting  the  liberation  of  the 

••  bbip  *1im6,  **  A  spoil  to  ornament  the  neck  ;**  is  the  constructive  fop 
the  absolute.  See  Mic.  vl  16.  Lan .  liL  14  and  66.  For  fVirther  satisiac- 
tion  on  this  subject  consult  Bmcromvy  T^m.  Oram.  ii.  4.  who,  nevertheless, 
in  the  same  work,  interpTets  this  phrase  m  a  different  manner.  The  Ssv^ 
nnrr  read  TvrttV ;  ami  the  Smac  Vsnm ;  the  coatext  triU  bear  either. 

Juth9r*9  J^9te. 

!•  IsAi.  xiT.  4— Sir. 


$U  PERSONIFICATION.  Lmct.  It, 

Jews  from  their  severe  captivity  in  Babylon,  and  thdr 
restoration  to  their  own  country,  introduces  them  as  re- 
citing a  kind  of  triumphal  song  upon  the  fall  of  the  Bab- 
ylonish monarch,  replete  with  imagery,  and  with  the 
most  elegant  and  animated  personifications.  A  sudden 
exclamation,  expressive  of  their  joy  and  admiration  on 
the  unesqiectcd  revolution  in  their  affairs,  and  the  desr 
tructioo  of  tlieir  tyrantB,  forma  the  ej^or^m  of  the  po- 
em* The  Earth  itself  triumphs  with  the  inhabitaiM 
thereof;  the  Fir-trees,  and  the  Cedars  of  Lebanon  (un- 
der which  images  the  parabolic  s^le  frequency  deline^ 
ates  the  kings  and  princes  of  the  Gentiles)  exult  with 
joy,  and  persecute  with  contemptuous  reproaches  the 
humbled  power  of  a  ferocious  enemy : 

M  The  whole  earth  ia  at  rest»  b  quiet ;  they  burst  brth  into  a  jojr- 

««ful  shout: 
<<  Even  the  fir-trees  rejoice  over  thee,  the  cedars  of  Lebanon : 
<<  Since  thou  art  feUen,  no  fe&ler  hath  come  up  against  us/^ 

This  is  followed  by  a  bold  and  animated  personificatioa 
of  Hades,  or  the  infernal  regions.  Hades  excites  his 
inhabitants,  the  ghosts  of  princes,  and  the  departed 
spirits  of  kings :  they  rise  immediately  fh>m  their  seats, 
and  proceed  to  meet  the  monarch  of  Babylon ;  th^y  in- 
sult and  deride  him,  and  comfort  themselves  with  the 
view  of  his  calamity :  ' 

*^  Art  thou,  even  thou  too,  become  weak  as  we  ?   Art  (hou  made 

^  lilie  unto  us  f 
*^  Is  then  thy  pride  brought  down  to  the  grave ;  the  smad  of  tfay 

M  sprighUy  instrumenu  ?         • 

^  Thus  spiritedly  versified  by  Mr.  Pottbe  : 

The  lordly  Lebanon  waves  high 

The  ancient  honours  of  his  sacred  bead ; 

Their  branching  anna  his  cedars  spread. 

His  pines  triumphant  shoot  into  the  slQr : 

**  Tyrant,  no  barb'rous  axe  invades, 

*<  Since  thou  art  iallen,  our  unpierc'd  shsdss." 
See  the  conclusion  of  Lect  xxviil    T. 


iMmt.  IS.  FBMONXrBCATIOK.  m 


A  k  the  ireroHii  kecome  tiqr  CMchi  and  the  etrtli-iponn  Ihf  co?« 
«  cring  ?" 

Again,  the  Jewish  people  are  the  speakers,  in  an  excla- 
naatkxi  after  the  manner  6f  a  funeral  lamentation,  which 
indeed  the  whxAt  form  of  this  composition  exactly  iihi* 
tuesu*  The  remarkable  fall  of  this  powerful  monarch 
is  thus  beautifully  iUustraled : 

•  Threaetic  itnuns  oa  the  ontiaiefy  deceaie  of  royal  and  emimnt  per- 
attHgOb  were  bflugli  witiqaitj  amount  th«  Amtios.  Thua  Euripides  i 
(Iphigenift  in  Ta^U»  ▼•  177  ) 

Ch.  AvIf^aMw  cilkc» 

*TiM]N  f'  AmnrAN  «tn 

Tea  •»  •PHNOItIN  ^mvmi 


Aa4  ^p&Dt  OmUM,  r.  1403. 

AIAOKIN,  AlAOM»^  AFSAN^  «ANATOT^ 
lufCar^i  Af^vrnw  AI,  Al» 
AmtJi  pnf  lASUBAN 

Inatmcee  of  eudi  thwnediee  oiWn  oecer  in  the  •aored  wfi^Bgi.    {3  Sax.!. 
1&    3  Knaa  ziiL  30.    Asoa  v.  1, 3, 16.    Ji».  ix.  17,  xxiL  18»  &c.]    Maajr 
of  them  are  of  the  proleptic  cast,  the  moat  conapicuous  of  which  ia  the  de^ 
%aiiciatioB  of  laaiah  againat  the  kmg  of  Babylon.    According  to  the  Ser- 
mtft  VvD  in  the  4tli  verae  (which  oar  tranelatora  have  rendered  a  prtver^ 
er  Utimtinf  tp^tckj  aignifies  i  WWOS  and  APXIL    The  aame  expreaaion» 
taken  conjunctively  with  mo»  hath  been  alao  interpreted  Anoi  SANAToTi 
and  eoineldee  with  the  paaai^  from  the  Oreatea»  cited  aborc^-Ora/a 
Mard  ia  a  compoaition  of  the  aame  claaa,  aa  ia  erident  from  the  import  of 
AlAOioS  [—  i  ftnim  if  tafi^ft^iu  xf"^  «^C^*^  ^  AIMNON  OAIN  wr  nrro#- 
ronrrxiN  BINAL    Euatath.]  when  compared  with  hia  imagety  of  waarxiras»- 
^  Weave  the  wazp  and  weave  the  woo( 
«*  The  winding^heet  of  Edward*a  race,"  Sec. 
and  it  ia  aomewhat  remarkable  that,  in  hia  Ode  fiom  the  Korae  tongue,  in- 
titled  the  FaM  SUter%  the  aame  machinery  b  more  minutely  preeerved  r 

^  Now  the  atorm  be^na  to  lower 

**  (Haate  the  loom  of  hell  prepare,) 

**  Iron-aleet  of  arrowy  ahower 

^  Hurtlea  in  the  darkened  air. 

*■  Glittering  luicea  form  the  loom 

'  When»  theduaky  warp  we  atrain ; 


IM  PERSONIFBATieiN;.  Lma  U. 


«  How artlhMfiiUai  frcnabBAve^  O.Ln(ai9fV«ta «C  die i 

<<  Art  cut  down  from  earth»  thou  that  didst  subdue  the  nations  !*'  ^ 

He  bifnself  is  at  length  brought  upoa. the  Stage,  bpftst* 
iog  in  the.  nK>$t  poqiipous  teroi^  of  his  own  pow^ 
which  furtushe»  the  po^t  with  an  i&weUeot  op^rtunity 
of  displaying  the  unparalleled  miaery  of  hia  dowo&L. 
Some  persons  are  introduced,  who  find  the  dead  carcass 
of  the  king  of  Babylon  cast  out  and  exposed ;  they  at- 
tentively contemplate  it,  and  at  last  acavcely  know  it  to 
be  his: 

M  Is  this  the  man,  that  made  the  ^arlb  talramble ;  that  aho^k  tbe 

^  kingdoms  ? 
«  That  made  the  world  like  a  desert ;  that  destroyed  the  cities  V*^ 

**  Vfekimg  many  a  toldier't  doom» 
^  Orkney's  woe,  and  Randrer's  bane. 
"  See  the  griesly  texture  grow ; 
*'  (Tis  of  human  entrails  made) 
<*  And  the  weights^  that  play  below, 
**  Baoh  a  gasping  wantei^  head. 
«<  ShafU  fbr  shuttles,"  8ce. 

la  his  critique  upon  this  sublime  ode  of  Isaiah»  the  lesfaod  faisbop  a^ 
pears  to  have  overlooked  a  principal  aource  of  its  beauty;  which,  aoftsiets 
in  the  happy  adaptation  of  imagery  6rom  the  history  and  &te  of  Ntmrod» 
the  founder  and  first  king  of  Babylon,  to  prefigure  the  eseisioa  of  his  stte* 
eessor  and  representative.  See  JHueruuim  aa  lAs  e&nirmmH^d  pmnagen  m 
Si.  Peter  and  St.  Jude  cvncemin^  the  ang^U  that  mnned.    S.  H. 

»  O  Lueijhr  /  &e.]  This  is,  I  thiak,  the  most  sublhne  image  I  hare 
ever  seen  conveyed  in  so  few  words.  The  aptness  of  the  sllegory  to  ex* 
press  the  ruin  of  a  powerful  ssonareh,  by  the  fid!  of  a  bright  star  from 
heaven,  strikes  tbe  mind  in  the  most  forcible  aoanncv  i  sad  the  poetical 
beauty  of  the  passage  is  greatly  heightened  by  the  pcrsooificataoa,  **  Sms 
of  Uie  morning."  Whoever  does  not  relish  such  painting  as  this,  is  aot 
only  destitute  of  poetical  taste^  but  of  the  common  feeliags  of  homanity. 

T. 

so  XiiropHov  gives  sn  instance  of  this  king^s  wanton  cruelty  m  killing  the 
son  of  Gobrias,  on  no  other  provocation  than  that,  in  bunting,  he  struck  a 
boar  and  a  lion,  which  the  king  had  missed.  Cgfrop,  ir,  p.  309»  quoted  by 
Bishop  LowTff,  JVhtet  on  iutiah,  c.  sir.  v.  30.    T. 


Lect.  1«.  PBRSONIPICATION.  185 

They  irproach  him  with  being  denied  the  common  rites 
of  sepulture,  on  account  of  the  cruelty  and  atrocity  of  his 
conduct ;  they  execrate  his  name,  his  offspring,  and  their 
posterity.  A  solemn  address,  as  of  the  Deity  himself, 
doses  the  scene,  and  he  denounces  against  the  king  of 
Babylon,  his  posterity,  and  even  against  the  city,  which 
was  the  seat  of  their  cruelty,  perpetual  destruction,  and 
confirms  the  immutability  of  his  own  counsels  by  the 
scrieranity  of  an  oath. 

How  forcible  is  this  imagery,  how  diversified,  hoW 
toblime !  how  elevated  the  diction,  the  figures,  the  sen- 
timents I — The  Jewish  nation,  the  Cedars  of  Lebanon, 
the  Ghosts  erf  departed  kings,  the  Babylonish'  monarch, 
flie  travellers  who  find  his  corpse,  and  last  of  all  Jeho- 
vah himself,  are  the  characters  which  support  this  beau* 
tiful  lyric  drama.  One  continued  action  is  kept  up,  at 
rather  a  series  of  interesting  actions  are  connected  togeth- 
er  in  an  incomparable  whole :  this,  indeed,  is  the  principal 
and  distinguished  exoellenceof  the  subiimer  ocfe,  and  is 
displayed  in  its  utmost  perfection  in  this  poem  of  Isaiah, 
which  may  be  considered  as  one  of  the  hiost  ancient, 
and  certainly  the  most  finished  species  of  that  composi^ 
don,  which  has  been  transmitted  to  us.  The  personifi. 
cations  here  are  frequent,  yet  not  confused ;  bold,  yet 
not  improbable :  a  free,  elevated,  and  truly  divine  spirit 
pervades  the  whole ;  nor  b  there  any  thing  wanting  in 
this  ode  to  defeat  its  claim  to  the  character  of  peifect 
beauty  and  sublhnity.  If,  indeed,  I  may  be  indulged 
in  the  free  declaration  of  my  own  sentiments  on  this  oc- 
casion, I  do  not  know  a  single  instance  in  the  whole 
compass  of  Greek  and  Roman  poetry,  which,  in  every 
excellence  of  composition,  can  be  said  to  equal,  or  even 
to  approach  it. 
24 


LECTURE  XIV. 

OF  THB  SUBUME  IK  GEN£RAL,i   AND   OF   SUBUMITT  OP  EX' 
PRESSIOl^  IN  PARTICULAR. 

WL  In  i»1at  iBMiiRr  Ibe  word  ^fiMAol'inplie»  tke  idea  of  Sublimity— Siib- 
limitj  of  Unp»g«  and  sentunent— On  what  iiccoant  the  poetic  dictkn  of 
the  Hebrews»  eidler  considered  in  itself,  or  compAred  with  prose  compo- 
sition» merits  an  appellation  expretsive  of  mtlllaiiity— -The  sabtimtty  of 
the  poetic  dictk»  artaea  from  the  passioiUh-41pw  fiu*  the  poetio  dJctioir 
dlfTera  from  prose  among  the  Hebrews— Certain  forma  of  poetic  dieUon 
and  construction  exemplified  from  Job,  chap.  m. 

IxAyiNG  in  the  preceding  lectures  given  my  sentT- 
mepts  at  large  on  the  nature  of  the  figurative  st}'Ie,  on 

t-  An  aathor  whose  taste  and  imagina:tion  wffl  be  respected  as  long  as  the 
Eagliah  languagi  eziata»  has  wiitten  a  most  elegant  treatise  on  the  distinc-' 
tion  between  the  beautiful  and  the  ntbHmOk  But  after  all  that  has  been  said» 
our  feelings  must  be  the  only  crfterioa.  The  pleasure  which  is  afforded  by 
the  contemplation  of  beauty,  appears  to  be  a  pore  and  unmixed  pleasure^ 
arising  from  the  gentler  agitation,  and  is  less  vivid  than  that  which  is  pro-» 
duced  by  the  sublime.  For  as  the  latter  often  borders  upon  terror,  it  re- 
quires a  greater  exertion,  and  produces  a  stronger,  though  I  think  less  du- 
sable  sensation  than  the  beantifbL  We  may  read  an  elegant  author,  and 
eontinue  for  a  long  tisoe  to  be  pleased  with  his  beauties  i  a  sublime  author 
we  shall  soon  be  induced  to  lay  down. 

The  wubHme  also  differs  from  the  beamHfiU  in  being  only  eonverasnt  witk 
great  objects.  It  differs  from  the  pathetic  in  affordaiy  a  more  tranquil  plea» 
sure,  if  I  may  so  express  myself.  But  though  the  sublime  and  beautiful  be 
thus  distinguishable,  yet  they  are  frequently  mixed  in  the  same  passage, 
and  seem  to  run  into  each  other,  as  is  the  case  in.  that  enchanting  simile  of 
Homer,  into  iHiich  Mr.  Pope  has  transfused  more  of  the  beautiful  than  ia 
in  the  original : 

"  As  when  the  moon,  refulgfent  lamp  of  night,'*  &a 

Some  descriptions  also  it  is  not  easy  to  determine  whether  to  assign  tw 
the  tuhUmR  or  the  pathetic  .*  such  is  that  admirable  but  brief  ddineation  oC 


Lbist.  U.        the  sublime  IN  OENCHAL.  Ii7 

its  use  and  application  in  poetry,  and  particulariy  in  the 
poetry  of  the  Hebrews  ;  I  proceed  to  treat  of  the  Sub- 
fitnity  of  the  sacred  poets ;  a  subject  which  has  been  al« 
feady  illustrated  by  many  examples  quoted  upon  other 
occasions ;  but  which,  since  we  have  admitted  «t  as  a 
third  characteristic  of  the  poetic  style,  now  requires  to 
be  distinctly  explained.  We  have  already  seen  that  this 
is  implied  in  one  of  the  senses  of  the  word  Masfudy  it 
being  expressive  of  power,  or  supreme  authority,  and 
vAysa  applied  to  style,  seems  particularly  to  intimate 
something  eminent  or  energetic,  excellent  or  important. 
This  b  ceruinly  understood  in  Uie  phrase  *'  to  take  (or 
lift)  up  his  paniA>le;"  diat  is,  to  express  a  great  or  lofty 
sentiment  The  very  first  instance,  in  which  the  phrase 
ocoirs,  will  serve  as  an  example  in  point.  For  in  this 
Bianner  Balaam  **  took  up,"  as  our  translation  renders  it» 
<<  his  parable,  and  said :" 

«  From  Aram  I  am  brought  bf  Balak, 

^  By  the  king  of  Moab  from  the  mountidns  of  the  Eait : 

K  Come,  curse  me  Jacob  $ 

<'  And  come,  execrate  Israel, 

M  How  shall  I  curse  whom  God  hath  not  cursed  ? 

<<  And  how  shall  I  execrate  whom  God  hath  not  execrated  \ 

^  For  from  the  tops  of  the  rocKa  I  see  him, 

«  And  from  the  hiUs  I  behold  him ; 

M  Lo !  the  people,  who  shall  dwi^U  alooe, 

*<  Nor  shall  number  themselTea  among  the  nations  { 

M  Who  shall  count  the  dust  of  Jacob  ? 

<<  Or  the  number  of  the  fourth  of  Israel  ? 

<<  Let  rof  soul  die  the  death  of  the  righteousi 

«  And  let  my  end  be  as  his."* 

the  feelings  of  the  iDuUitode  pn  the  crupifixion  of  our  Lord,  Lvkx  xxiii.  48. 
'«  Aod  all  the  people  that  came  together  to  that  tigl^t,  beholding  the  thinge 
<«  which  were  doqe,  smote  their  breasts,  and  returned."  This  may  in  some 
measure  account  for  the  error  of  Longwus»  who  cooAninds  these  three  dif- 
Ibrent  sensations  together.    T. 

a  Nr«B.  xxiii.  7—10.    mrw  here  rendered  #fu^  and  in  the  common  vtr- 


lit  THE  SUBLIME  IN  GEMBRJX.        Uct«  U* 

Let  us  now  coraider,  on  wbtt  acMUDt  this  addioaa  of 
the  propbet  is  entitled  Mashai  The  setiteneeii  are  in- 
^  deed  aceurately  distributed  in  pMBtteli»iM,  w  nay  be 
discovered  even  in  the  translation,  wbicb  has  not  en- 
tirely obscured  the  elegance  of  the  arrangement :  and 
oompcisitions  in  this  form,  we  have  already  renarked, 
are  commonly  cbMed  among  the  proverbs  and  adages» 
which  are  properly  called  Madiakm^  though  perhapa 
they  contain  nothing  of  a  proverbbl  or  didaotac  natuoe. 
But  if  we  attentively  eonaader  tfiis  very  psunage,  or  oth« 
era  introduoed  by  the  same  form  of  expression,  we  shall 
find»  in  all  of  them»  either  an  extmoidinary  variety  of 
figune  and  imagery ;  or  an  elevation  of  style  and  aeitti* 
ment ;  or  perhaps  an  union  tA  all  these  exceUendes ; 
n^ttch  win  induce  us  to  condude,  thst  aometinng  smvs 
is  meant  by  the  term  to  which  I  am  aHuding  than  tlie 
bare  merit  of  a  sententious  neatncsa.  If  again  we  ex- 
amine the  same  passage  in  another  point  of  view,  we 
shall  discover  in  it  Hitle  or  nothing  of  the  figurative 
kind,  at  least  according  to  our  ideas,  or  according  to 
that  acceptation  of  the  word  Mashai  which  denotes  fig- 
urative  language ;  there  is  evidently  notlung  in  U  of  the 
mystical  kind,  nothing  alk^^orical,  no  pomp  of  imagery, 
no  comparison,  and  in  fourteen  verses  but  a  single  met- 
aphor: as  far,  therefore,  as  figurative  language  is  a 
characteristic  of  the  parabolic  style,  this  is  no  instance 
of  it.  We  must  then  admit  the  word  parable,  when 
applied  to  this  passage,  to  be  expressive  ik  those  exalted 

wm  laii$r  end,  iiraperij  ttgiitfies  pv^tmiigt  as  in  Psai..  ciz,  13.  Amm  it. 
%  Dajt.  zL  4.— Thft  aflTBWTT  tranaUte  it  by  rmfftm.  It  should  be  remem* 
bered  that  Balaam  is  here  speaking  of  the  righiewM  not  in  their  individual, 
but  io  their  oggrgf^ate  capacity,  and  therefore  had  either  a  retrospect»  in 
his  wiah«  to  the  promiie  which  bad  been  inade  to  Abraliam  concerning  hia 
posterity ;  or  else,  to  an  immediate  commimicatkm  on  the'  occasion  then 
^itesent    8.  H. 


UoT.  14.        THB  «UBUMIE  IN  OENERAL^  lag 

sentifMnts»  that  ^it  q£  subUmity,  that  energy  and 
cattK^aiaaQa»  wkb  which  ^  answer  of  ibe  prophet  ia 
«ttBMleiib  By  Ai»  example  I  wished  to  explain  on 
what  reaaona  I  was  itidiiced  to  suppose  thai  the  term 
MufuUf  as  well  from  its  proper  power  or  meaning»  as 
from  its  iiaual  aaoeptatioo,  involves  an  idea  of  sublimi* 
ty ;  and  tkM  the  Hebrew  poetry  expresses  in  its  very 
name  and  title,  the  particuhar  quality  in  which  it  so 
gjreatly  exf^ela  the  poetiy  of  all  other  nations. 

The  wqfd  aublimity  I  wish  in  thb  place  to  be  under- 
stood in  ilB  moat  exte^ve  aetise ;  I  vpesk  not  merely 
of  thai  aifblimJKy»  which  exhibits  great  objects  with  a 
magnUc^nt  di^by  of  inu^ry  and  diction ;  but  that 
kfm  of  composition,  whatever  it  be,  which  strikes  and 
overpowers  th^  mind,  whiph  excites  the  passions,  and 
whicb  ekp«!easea  ideaa  at  onoe  with  perspicuity  and  ele* 
vatiop  s  not  sdicitous  whether  the  languid  be  plain  or 
ornamented,  vefined  or  familiar :  in  this  use  of  the  word 
I  copy  Lopgrnua,  the  most  accomplished  author  on  this 
wi^fscif  whether  we  consider  his  precepts  or  his  exam- 
ple.* 

The  4ublime  consists  either  in  language  or  sentimeiit, 
or  OMMPe  frequently  in  an  union  of  both,  since  they  re- 
ciproeaHy  asMat  each  other,  and  since  there  is  a  neces* 
sary  and  indiaaohibfe  connexion  between  them ;  this, 
however,  wiU  not  prevent  our  considering  them  apart 
with  convenience  and  advantage.  The  first  object» 
theif  fore»  which  presents  itself  lor  our  investigation,  is, 
upon  what  groimda  the  poetic  diction  of  the  Hebrews, 
whether  considered  in  itself,  or  in  comparison  with  prose 
composition,  is  deserving  of  an  appellation  immediately 
.  expressive  of  sublimity.  s 

9  **  Whose  own  example  stiengpthens  all  his  laws» 
**  And  is  himself  the  gr^t  subl'ime  he  draws.**  Pojr*^ 


/ 

/ 


190  THE  SUBLIME  IN  GENERAL.         Lmt.  U/ 

The  poetry  of  eveiy  hnguage  has  a  style  and  form  oi 
expressKHi  peculiar  to  itself;  forcible,  magnificeiit,  and 
sonorous ;  the  words  pompous  and  energetic ;  the  com- 
position singular  and  artificial ;    the  whole  form  and 
complexion  different  from  what  we  meet  with  in  com- 
mon life,  and  frequently  (as  with  a  noUe  indignation) 
breaking  down  the  boundaries  by  wluch  the  popular 
dialect  is  confined*    The  language  of  reason  is  cod, 
temperate,  rather  humble  than  elevated,  well  arranged 
and  perspicuous,  with  an  evident  care  and  anxiety  lest 
any  thing  should  escape  which  might  appear  perplexed 
or  obscure.     The  language  of  the  paasicHis  is  totally 
different :'  the    ccHiceptions    burst    out    in  a  turbid 
stream,  expressive  in  a  manner  of  the  internal  con- 
flict;   the  more    vehement  break   out  in  hasty  con- 
fusion;   they  catch  (without  search  or  study)  what- 
ever is  impetuous,  vivid,  or  energetic.      In  a  word, 
reason  speaks  literally,  the  passions  poetically.    The 
mind,    with    whatever   pas«on   it    be    agitated,    re- 
mains fixed  upon  the  object  that  excited  it ;  and  while 
it  is  earnest  to  dbplay  it,  is  not  satisfied  with  a  plain 
and  exact  description ;  but  adopts  one  agreeable  to  its 
own  sensations,  splendid  or  gloomy,  jocund  or  unpleas- 
ant.   For  the  passions  are  naturally  inclined  to  amplifi^ 
cation ;  they  wonderfully  magnify  and  exaggerate  what- 
ever dwells  upon  the  mind,  and  labour  to  express  it  in 
animated,  bold,  and  magnificent  terms.    This  they  com- 
monly effect  by  two  different  methods ;  partly  by  illus- 
trating the  subject  with  splendid  imagery,  and  pardy  by 
employing  new  and  extraordinaiy  forms  of  expression, 
which  are  indeed  possessed  of  great  force  and  efficacy 
in  this  respect  especially,  that  they  in  some  degree  imi- 
tate or  represent  the  present  habit  and  state  of  the  soul. 
Hence  those  theories  of  rhetoricians,  which  they  have 


LacT.  14.        THE  SUBLIME  IN  GENERAL.  191 

sopompoudy  detailed,  attributing  that  to  ait,  which 
riiove  att  tlungs  is  due  to  nature  alone : 

^  For  nature  to  each  change  of  fortune  forma 

<(  The  secret  soul,  and  all  its  passions  warms  : 

<«  TtvnsportB  to  rage,  dilates  the  heart  with  mirth, 

tt  WiJQgft.the  tad  soul,  aad  beads  it  down  to  eartii. 

**  The  tODgiie  those  various  nDvemeats  mast  espiess."^.^ 

A  principle  which  pervades  all  poetry,  may  easily  he 
conceived  to  prevail  even  in  a  high  degree  in  the  poetry 
of  the  Hebrews.  Indeed  we  have  already  seen  how 
daring  these  writers  are  in  the  selection  of  their  imagery, 
how  forcible  in  the  application  of  it ;  and  what  elegance, 
splendour,  and  sublimity  they  have  by  these  means 
been  enabled  to  infuse  into  their  compositions.  With 
respect  to  the  diction  also,  we  have  had  an  opportunity 
of  remarking  the  peculiar  force  and  dignity  of  their  po- 
etic  dialect ;  as  well  as  the  anificial  distribution  of  the 
sentences,  which  appears  to  have  been  originally  closely 
connected  with  the  metrical  arrangement,  though  the 
latter  be  now  totally  lost  We  are  therefore  in  the  next 
place  to  consider  whether  there  be  any  other  remarkable 
qualities  in  the  poetical  language  of  the  Hebrews,  which 
serve  to  distinguish  it  from  prose  composition. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  any  thing  more  simple 
and  onadomed  than  the  common  language  of  the  He- 
brews. It  is  plain,  correct,  chaste,  and  temperate ;  the 
words  are  uncommon  neither  in  their  meaning  nor  ap- 
plication ;  there  is  no  appearance  of  study,  nor  even  of 
the  least  attention  to  the  harmony  of  the  periods.  The 
order  of  the  words  is  generally  regular  and  uniform. 
The  verb  is  the  first  word  in  the  sentence,  the  noun, 
which  is  the  agent,  immediately  succeeds»  and  the  other 

«  FsABCis's  Hob.  Art  rfP9eityt  Y.  155«  &c: 


U%  THE  SUBUMi:  m  OBHERAL.        Ucv.  M. 

words  follow  in  their  imtoral  order*  £adi  ebcumttaM» 
b  exhibited  at  a  sin^  dfort,  wkhottt  the  leMt  perples«^ 
ity  or  confusion  ci  the  dtflEerent  parts :  and^  what  is  ^^^ 
tnarkable,  by  the  help  of  a  simple  particle,  the  whole  is 
connected  from  the  begmmng  to  the  end  in  a  oontimicd 
series,  so  that  nortring  appears  nieonsisteiit,  abrept,  er 
confused.  The  whole  composition,  in  fine^  is  ifi^MMed 
in  such  an  order,  and  so  connected  by  the  coMifmed 
succession  of  the  diibrent  parts,  as  tademonatrate  dear- 
ly the  regular  state  of  the  auth<M*,  and  to  cxUbiKthe  ihk 
age  of  a  sedate  and  tranquil  mind.  But  in  the  ifebf^w 
poetry  the  case  is  different,  in  part  at  least,  if  not  in  dHr 
whole.  The  free  spirit  is  bnnied  along,  and  has  neilter 
leisure  nor  inclination  to  descend  to  those  ouDOte  mni 
frigid  attentions.  Frequently,  instead  of  diaguin^  the 
secret  feelings  of  the  author,  it  laya  them  quite  open  to 
public  view ;  and  the  veil  being  as  it  were  suddenly  re» 
moved,  all  the  affections  and  emotions  of  the  soul,  its 
sudden  impulses,  its  hasty  sallies  and  irregularUies,  are 
conspicuously  displayed. 

Should  the  curious  inquirer  be  desirous  of  more  per- 
fect information  upon  this  subject,  he  may  satisfy  Mm- 
self,  I  apprehend,  with  no  great  labour  or  difficulty. 
Let  him  take  the  book  of  Job ;  let  him  read  the  hktori* 
cal  proem  of  that  book  ;  let  him  proceed  to  the  metri- 
cal parts,  and  let  him  diligently  attend  to  the  first  speech 
of  Job.  He  will,  I  dare  believe,  confess,  that,  when  ar* 
rived  at  the  metrical  part,  he  feels  as  if  he  were  reading 
another  language ;  and  is  surprized  at  a  dissimilarity  in 
the  style  of  the  two  passages  much  greater  than  between 
that  of  Livy  and  Virgil,  or  even  Herodotus  and  Homer* 
Nor  indeed  could  the  fact  be  otherwise  accovdh^  to  the 
nature  of  things  ^  since  in  the  latter  passage  the  most 
exquisite  pathos  is  displayed,  such  indeed  as  has  not 


I^iev.  14.        THB  8UBUME  IK  QBNERAt.  IM 

been  esoeeded,  and  acaroely  equalled  by  any  effort  of  ^ 
Hbe  Musea.  Not  <^iy  the  force,  the  beauty*  the  sub'* 
limity  of  the  aentiments  are  unrivalled ;  but  auch  b  the 
ebafacter  of  the  diction  in  general,  so  vivid  is  die  ex- 
pivatton,  ao  interesting  the  assemblage  of  objects,  so 
dose  and  conoecled  the  sentences,  so  animated  and  pas* 
aioQafte  the  whole  «rangement,  that  the  Hebrew  Utera* 
tare  itself  contams  nothing  more  poetical»  The  greater 
psrt  of  these  beauties  are  ao  obvious,  that  they  cannot 
possibly  eacape  the  eye  of  a  dili(i:ent  reader ;  there  are 
some,  however,  which,  depending  chiefly  upon  the  ar« 
mngement  and  construction,  are  of  a  more  abstruse  na* 
tare.  It  also  aometimes  happens,  that  those  beauties 
which  may  be  easily  conceived,  are  veiy  difficult  to  be 
explain^ :  while  we  simply  contemplate  them,  they  ap«> 
peiur  sufficiently  manifest ;  if  we  q)pn)ach  nearer,  and 
attempt  to  touch  and  handle  them,  they  vanish  and  es- 
cape. Since,  however,  it  would  not  be  consistent  with 
my  duQr  on  the  present  occasion  to  pass  them  by  totally 
unreganded,  I  stall  rdy,  gentlemen,  upon  your  accus- 
tomed candour,  while  I  attempt  to  render,  if  pos^ble, 
some  of  these  degancies  more  obvious  and  familiar. 

The  first  thmg  that  arrests  the  attention  of  the  reader 
in  thb  passage,  b  the  violent  sorrow  of  Job,  which  bursts 
forth  on  a  sudden,  and  flows  from  his  heart,  where  it  had 
long  been  confined  and  suppressed : 

«  Let  the  day  perish,  I  was  born  in  it ;  ^.  e.  in  which  I  was  born) 
A  And  the  night  (which)  said  a  man  is  conceived/'' 

Observe  here  the  concise  and  abrupt  form  of  the  first 

f  Job  ill.  3.  The  learned  bishop  ibllows  here  the  interpretation  of  Sehut- 
tent,  which  Mr.  Heath  has  pven  a  good  reason  for  declining  to  adopt  He 
tenders  the  passage  thus : 

Ma^  the  day  perish  wherein  I  was  brought  forth. 

And  the  night  which  said.  See  a  man  child  is  bom !  8.  fix 

25 


194  THE  SUBLIME  W  GfiMERAL/       Lkt.  14» 

*  verse ;  and  in  the  second  the  boldness  of  the  fi^re,  and 
the  still  more  abiHipt  conclusion.  Let  the  reader  theo 
consider,  whether  he  could  endure  such  a  spirited,  ve* 
bement»  and  perplexed  form  of  expression  in  any  prose 
composition ;  or  even  in  verse,  unless  it  were  expressive 
of  the  deepest  pathos.^  He  will  nevertheless,  I  doubt 
not;  acknowledge  that  the  meaning  of  this  sentell&e^i8 
extremely  dear,  so  clear  indeed,  that  if  any  person  should 
sittfimpt  to  make  k  more  copious  and  explanatory,  he 
would  render  ic  less  expressive  of  the  mind  and  feelings 
of  the  speaker.  It  hi^ppens  fortunately  that  we  ha^re  an 
opportunity  of  making  the  experiment  lipon  this  very 
sentiment.  There  is  a  passage  of  Jeremiali  so  exactly 
similar,  that  it  might  almost  be  imagined  a  direct  imita- 
tion :  the  meaning  is  the  same,  nor  is  there  any  very 
great di&rence  in  the  phraseology;  but  Jeremiah  fills 
up  the  eltipsesi  smooths  aiid  harmonizes  the  roug^and 
uncouth  language  of  Job,  and  dilates  a  short  distich  into 
two  equal  distichs,  consisting  of  somewhat  longer  ver- 
ses, which  is  the  measure  he  commortly  makes  use;  of  u 

<*  Cursed  be  the  day  oh  ivhich  I  was  born, 

^*  The  dajr  on  whioh  tny  mdtber  bare  ttie,  let  k  not  be  blessed. 

^  Cursed  be  the  mi^)  who  broughtthe  news  to  nsy  iathery.    . 

<'  Saying  there  is  s  male  child  born  unJLo  thee  ; 
«  Makings  him  exceedingly  gUd.*'^ 

«  Our  author  exaggerates  a  little  the  boTdness  and  energy  of  this  passage, 
conceiving  that  to  be  an  unusual  phras^lugy»  which  ia  only  uncommon  t^. 
lis.  There  will  be  an  opportunily  of  mentioning  the  change  or  emiilage  of 
the  tenses  in  the  next  Lecture.  Tlie  eJllpsis  of  the  relative  pronoun  a9fmr 
(which}  is  nol  at  all  harsh  and  unusual ;  natliing  is  more  common  in  tbd 
Arabic,  it  being  accounted  among  the  elegancies  of  language,  nor  is  it  un- 
usual with,  tlic  Hebrews.  Even  witJi  the  English,  tlie  pronoim  vhich  is  very 
frequently  omitted.    M. 

•*  There  are  in  all  languages  certain  elliptical  expressions,  which  use  has 
"  established,  and  wjuch  tlurelore  very  rarcJy  occasion  daikness.** 

r*««.lx„14,Vt     ,  .  C^nn.  J'Idl.  of  Hhet. 


LmcT.  \4i        THE  SUBblME  IN  <iENERAU  19S 

Tbus  *itfaa|)pen84  that  ifab  imprecation  of  Jeremiah  has 
more  in  it  of  coniplaint  than  of  indignation  ;  it  is  milder^ 
softer,  and  more*  plaintive,  peculiarly  calculated  to  ex- 
cite pity,  in  moving  which  the  great  excellence  of  {lus 
prophet  consists  :  while  that  of  Job  is  more  adapted  to 
strike  us  with  teripr  than  to  excite  our  compassion.* 

But  to  proceed.  I  shall  not  trouble  you  with  a  te* 
dious  discussion  of  lliose  particulars  which  are  suffi- 
ciently  apparent ;  the  crowded  and  abrupt  sentences, 
which  seem  to  have  tittle  connection,  bursting  from  the 
glowing  bosom  with  matchless  force  aqd  impetuosity ; 
the  bold  and  magnifioent  expressions,-  which  the  elo- 
quence of  indignatidn'  pours  forth,  four  instances  of 
which  occur  in  the  space  of  twice  as  many  verses,^  and 
which  seem  to  be  altogether  poetical :  two  of  them  in* 
deed  are  fbund  coutintjally  iii  the  poets,  ahd  in  them 
only  ;  the  other^  are  ^ill  more  uncomoUM.  Omittii^ 
these,  therefore,  the  bbjfcct  which  at  present  seems  more 
worthy  of  e:^aminatibn,  i^,  that  redundancy  of  expres- 
sion, which  in  a  few  Uhes  takes  place  of  the  former  "ex- 
cessive conciseness : 

«  That  liigfln — let  darkness  sciise  upon  it."*  •  ' 

In  this  also  there  is  the  strongest  indication  of  passion/ 
and  a  perturbed  mind.  He  doubtless  intended  at  first 
to  express  himself  in  this  manner  : 

**  Be  that  hight  darkness.*'*.  * — '- — ^ 

But  in  the  very  act  of  uttering  it,  he  suddenly  catches 
at  an  e&pressiun,  which  appears  more  animated  and  en- 

8  This  is  an  excellent  observation.  The  grief,  or  ratlicr  despair,  of  Job^ 
is  of  the  solemn,  majestic,  and  truly  tragic  kind ;  that  of  Jeremiah  has 
more  of  the  elegiac  tenderness,  which  raises  no  greater  passion  than  pitv, 
and  is  only  caculated  to  excite  our  tears.     M. 

9  Ver.  4,  5,  7.    'nD>3,  vvina,  rviiabx,  jrrvi 

»  Vcr.  6.  n  See  ver,  4. 


19«  THE  SUBLIMt:  IN  GfiKfiltAL»        Uev.  14. 

ergetic.  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  better  Wosinite  tfcis 
observation  than  by  referring  to  a  passage  in  Horace,  a 
which  a  similar  transition  and  redundancy  ftlfeirom  the 
indignant  poet : 

<«  He  who— (bane  of  the  fruitful  enrth  \ 

M  Curst  was  the  hour  that  gave  thee  Inith  I) 

«  He— O  vile  permcloaa  tree  ! 

^  Was  surely  curat  vbo  pJaiiied  lbe«» 

M  Well  may  I  think  the  parricide 

«  In  blood  his  guilty  soul  had  died, 

<<  Or  plung'd  his  dagger  in  the  breast» 

(*  At  midnighty  of  his  sleeping  guesti 

**  Or  temperM  every  balefbl  juite, 

«(  Which  pMsTnoua  Choichian  globes  product, 

M  Or  if  a  blacker  crime  be  known, 

**  That  crime  the  wretch  had  made  his  own.*' 

For  undoubtedly  the  poet  begun»  as  if  he  intended  to 
purstfc  the  svt>|^t  in  a  regular  order,  and  to  finish  the 
8(^ateriice  in  this  form.  *^  He  wbo<-<^lanted  thee ;  be 
^^  w^s  accessary  to  the  murder  of  his  parents,  and  sprink« 
**  kd  his  chambers  with  the  blood  of  his  guest ;  he  dealt 
*^  in  the  poison  of  Cholchis,"  8cc,  But  anger  and  vexa- 
tion dissipated  the  order  of  his  ideas,  and  destroyed  the 
construction  of  this  sentence.  But  should  some  cAcious 
grammariltn  take  in  hand  the  passage,  (for  this  is  a  veiy 
diligent  race  of  beings,  and  sometimes  more  than  suffi- 
ciently exact  and  scrupulous)  and  attempt  to  restore  it 
to  its  primitive  purity  and  perfection,  the  whole  grace 
and  excellence  of  that  beautiful  exordium  Would  be  im- 
mediately  annihilated,  all  the  impetuosity  and  ardour 
would  in  a  moment  be  extingitished.«»But  to  return  to 
Job; 

^  L.0  !  that  night,  may  it  be  fruitless  !"«* 

IS  Fbajtcii,  B.  iL  Ode  i^iii.  with  some  l^tle  alterftiOQ. 
IS  Qbap.  iU.  ver.  7. 


I.*ev.  14.        THS  SUBLIME  IK  GENERAL.  m 

Be  appears  to  have  i  diiect  pictufe  or  imagit  of  that 
Bight  bkSatc  his  eyes,  and  to  point  it  out  with  Im  fingefi 
^Thedoore  of  11*7  womb"  ^^  *^  the  doors  of  my  mothi* 
'^  er's  womb/*^  b  an  eUiptical  form  of  etpreasioiat  the 
tneasing  of  which  is  easily  cleared  up,  but  which  no 
penon  in  « Iratiquil  state  of  mind,  and  quite  master  of 
himself  would  venture  to  emjrioy*  Not  to  detain  yoa 
loo  kmg  upon  this  subject,  I  shril  produce  only  one 
passage  more,  which  is  about  the  conclusion  of  this 
«mmmed  speech: 

tt  Wheiefijte  should  ho  gite  liffht  to  the  msemble  I 
^  And  life  10  tbosc  who  «no  in  btttieniess  of  aoul  f 
^  Who  call  aloud  for  death,  but  it  oometb  not; 
M  Who  dig  for  it  more  than  for  hidden  trsasures. 
<^  Who  would  rejoice  even  to  exultation, 
^  Alid  b^  in  raptures,  if  they  had  fotmd  the  grave. 
^  Well  might  it  befit  4he  man  whote  way  b  aheltered, 
*  ^  And  whom  QoA  hath  aurroiindod  with  an^iicdge. 
^  But  my  gvoaaiag  cometb  like  my  daUy  feod, 
<<  And  my  roarings  are  poured  out  tike  water/' *' 

The  whole  composition  of  this  passage  is  admirable,  and 
deserves  a  minute  attention,  ^'  Wherefore  should  he 
^*  give  light  to  the  miserable  ?''— But  who  is  the  giver 
alluded  to?  Certainly  God  himself,  whom  Job  has  in- 
deed in  his  mind ;  but  it  esc^d  his  notice  that  no 
mention  is  made  of  him  in  the  preceding  lines.  He 
seems  to  speak  of  the  miserable  in  general,  but  by  a 
violent  and  sudden  transition  he  applies  the  whole  to 
himself,  ^'  But  my  groaning  cometh  like  my  daily  food." 
It  is  phdn,  therefore,  that  in  all  the  preceding  reflections 
he  has  himself  only  in  view.  He  makes  a  transition 
from  the  singular  to  the  plural,  and  back  again,  a  re- 
markable amplification  intervening,  expressive  of  his 
desire  of  death,  the  force  and  boldness  of  which  is  in^ 

M  Ver.  10.  M  Ver.  70^24. 


in  THE  SUBLIME  DT  GENERAL:        L»ov«  14^ 

companMe ;  at  last,  as  if  suddenly  recoUecting  hrais^ 
he  returns  to  the  former  subject»  which  he  had  appar-* 
ently  quitted,  and  resumes  the  detail  €i  his  oim 'misery. 
From  these  observations  I  think  it  will  be  manifest»  tbft 
the  agitated  and  disordered  state  <tf  the  speaker's  mind 
is  not  more  evidently  demonstrated  by  a  happy  boldness 
o[  sentiment  and  imagery,  and  an  uncommon  force  of 
language,  than  by  the  very  fom^,^  conduct»  and  airange- 
ment  of  the  whde. 

The  peculiar  property  which  I  have  laboufed  to  de* 
monstrate  in  this  passage,  will,  1  apprehend,  be  ftund  to 
prevail  as  a  characteristic  of  die  Hebrew  poetry,  making 
due  allowance  for  diflerent  subjects  and  circumstances ; 
I  mean  that  vivid  and  ardent  style,  which  is  so  well  cal- 
culated to  display  the  emotions  and  passions  of  the  mind. 
Hence  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  abounds  with  phrases 
and  idioms  totally  unsuited  to  prose  composition,  and 
which  frequently  appear  to  us  harsh  and  unusual,  I  had 
almost  said  unnatural  and  barbarous ;  which,  however, 
are  destitute  neither  of  meaning;  nor  of  force,  were  we 
but  sufficiently  informed  to  judge  of  their  true  applica- 
tion. It  will,  however,  be  worth  our  wh3e,  perhaps,  to 
make  the  experiment  on  some  other  passages  of  this  na- 
ture, and  to  try  at  least  what  can  be  done  towiirds  the 
further  elucidation  of  tins  point. 


1         LECTURE  XV. 

OP  SUBLIMITY  OF  EXPRESSION. 

The  chamefer  of  the  Poetic  USalect  further  iUastrated  by  ettmplei  of 
.  ^tiffefwit  kind*  from  the  Soiig  of  .Moks»  Dspt.  xxxU^-*The  fteqoent  and 
sudden  transition  from  one  persqn  to  another  ;  its  cause  and  effects— 
The'dse  of  the  Tenses  in  a  manner  c^uite  different  from  common  language  s 
the  reaaena  of  tki»^Ttae*Hetotw  language  peculiar  in  this  reapect^^The 
future  is  often  spdkea  of  in  the  pierfect  present»  and  .the  past  in  the  fu^ 
tuie  Tense  ;  the  reason  of  the  former  easy  to  be  explained  ;  the  latter 
is  a' matter  of  coiisid^rable  difficulty,  which  neither  the  Commentators, 
the  Tranalators»  nor  even  the  Grammarians  have  elucidated— Some  ex- 
amples of  this,  and  the  explanation  of  them-*The  frequent  use  of  this 
'  form  of  construction  may  be  considered  aa  cbaracterlstical  of  the  Po^ 
eticDialcet 

J.K  order  to  demonstrate  more  completely  the  sublimi- 
ty of  the  Hebrew  poetry  by  a  comparison  with  prose,  I 
referred  the  student  of  Hebrew  to  the  Book  of  Job,  con- 
vinced that  he  would  easily  perceive,  both  in  the  mat- 
ter and  diction  a  very  considerable  difference  betweca 
the  historical  hitroduction  of  that  book,  and  the  metric* 
eal  paissages  immediately  succeeding.  But  lest  these 
passages  should  be  objected  to,  as  improper  instances 
for  such  a  comparison,  on  the  supposition  that,  although 
both  of  them  were  written  entirely  either  in  verse  or 
prose,  yet  the  diflferent  nature  of  the  subjects  would  re- 
quire a  very  different  style ;  we  shall  now  make  the  ex- 
periment on  some  other  passages,  and  compare  the 
manner  of  treating  the  same  subject  in  verse  and  prose. 
The  Book  of  Deuteronomy  will  afford  us  a  convenient 
instance ;  for  Moaes  appears  there  in  the  character  both 


300  6UBLIMITT  OP  LscT.  U. 

of  an  orator  and  a  poet.  In  the  former  character,  he 
addresses  a  very  solemn  and  interesting  oration  to  the 
people  of  Israel/  exhorting  them,  by  the  most  inviting 
promises,  to  the  observance  of  the  covenant,  and  dis- 
suading them  from  the  violation  of  it  by  threats  c^  the 
most  exemplary  punishment :  and  fer  the  purpose  of 
impressing  the  same  more  forcibly  on  their  minds,  he 
afterwards,  by  the  command  ofOod,  ettibellishes  the 
subject  with  all  the  elegance  of  verse,*  in  a  poenit  which 
bears  every  mark  of  divme  inspiration.  In  these  two 
passages  is  displayed  every  excellence  of  which  the 
Hebrew  language  is  capable  in  both  species  of  com* 
position ;  all  that  b  grand,  forcible,  and  majestic,  both 
in  prose  and  verse :  From  them  too  we  may  be  enabled 
easily  to  comprehend  the  difference  between  the  style  of 
oratory  among  the  Hebrews,  and  that  of  their  poetry, 
not  only  in  sentiment,  but  in  the  imagery,  the  amuqge* 
ment,  and  the  language.  Whoever  wishes,  therefore, 
to  satisfy  himself  concenung  die  true  character  ^nd 
genius  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  I  would  advise  careful^ 
to  compare  the  two  passages,  and  I  think  he  will  soon 
discover  that  the  former,  though  great,  spirited,  and  a» 
bounding  with  ornament,  is  notwithstanding  regular, 
copious,  and  diffuse ;  that,  with  all  its  vehemence  and 
impetuosity,  it  still  preserves  a  smoothness,  evenness, 
and  uniformity  throughout ;  and  that  the  latter,  on  the 
contrary,  consists  of  sentences,  pointed,  energetic,  con* 
cise,  and  splendid ;  that  the  sentiments  are  tmly  elevat- 
ed  and  sublime,  the  languid  bright  and  animated,  the 
expression  and  phraseology  uncommon ;  while  the  mind 
of  the  poet  never  continues  fixed  to  any  single  point, 
but  glances  continually  from  one  object   to  another. 

1»  Dsmr.  Chjq>.  xxviu.  zxix.  xzx.  zzxi.  *  Chap.  xxsiL 


iMmr.  15.  EXPRESSIONS  901 

These  remarks  are  of  such  a  nature,  that  the  diligent 
reader  will  apprehend  them  better  by  experience  and 
Us  own  observation,  than  by  means  of  any  commentary 
or  explanation  whatever.  There  are,  however,  one  ot 
two  points  which  have  attracted  my  notice  in  the  peru- 
sal  of  this  remarkable  poem ;  and  as  they  are  of  general 
use  and  application,  and  may  serve  to  elucidate  many 
<^the  difficult  passages  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  they  ap^ 
pear  to  me  not  undeserving  of  a  more  particular  exam« 
ination. 

Taking,  therefore,  this  poem  as  an  eicample,  the  first 
general  observation,  to  which  I  would  direct  your  atten- 
tion, is  the  sudden  and  frequent  change  of  the  persons^ 
and  principally  in  the  addresses  or  expostulations ;  for 
enough  has  been  said  already  concerning  the  introduce 
tion  of  difierent  characters  or  personifications*  In  the 
exordium  of  this  poem,  Moses  displays  the  truth  and 
justice  of  Almighty  God,  most  sacredly  regarded  in  all 
his  acts  and  counsels :  whence  he  takes  occasion  to  re^- 
prove  the  perfidy  and  wickedness  of  his  ungrateful  peo- 
ple ;  at  first  as  if  his  censure  were  only  pointed  at  the 
absent, 

M  Their  eyil  disposition  hath  corrupted  his  children»  which  are 
M  indeed  no  longer  his  :'*^ 

He  then  suddenly  directs  his  discourse  to  themselves; 

M  Perverse  and  crooked  g^enerstion  I 
^  Will  ye  thus  requite  Jehovah» 
«<  Foolish  people  and  unwise  i 

s  Ver.  Stfi    I  have  endeavoured,  as  fiir  as  1  was  sbl^  to  lender  pe& 

tpicuous  the  Hebrew  reading;  but  after  all,  that  which  is  adopted  by  the 
LXX.  the  Sjm.  and  Str.  is  perhaps  neaiw  the  truth  n\a  «3^  ib  Kb  unrW ; 
"  Th^  are  corrupted»  they  are  not  his»  (they  are)  sons  of  eiTor,  or  blemish.*' 
Which  is  also  partly  cottfirmed  by  A^ui&a»  Vvm^  Stxxachus. 

26  ' 


392  SUBLIMITY  OF  L»cT.  11^^ 

M  h  be  not  thf  father  and  tUj  red^entr ; 
M  Did  he  not  make  thee  and  form  thee  V* 

After  his  mdignatiofi  has  apmtrwhat  wbsided,  advcrtiiig 
to  a  remoter  period,  he  beautifully  enlarges»  upon,  ttv^ 
indulgence»  aud  more  tlun  paternal  aflft^ction,  continw^l^. 
ipanifes^ted  by  AJmigbty  Gpd  towards  the  Israelite^ 
^om  the  time  wl^ep  he  first  chose  them  for  his  p^iiUnr, 
people ;  and  all  this  again  without  seeming  dtrctctly  t|^ 
apply  it  to  them»  He  ajfterwards  admirably  ex^ggeratefk 
the  stupidity  and  barbarity  of  this  ungrateful  peo(^ 
which  excfed^  that  of  th^  brutes  themselves.  Observe 
with,  what  force  the  indigni^Uon  of  the  prophet  a^uo^ 
breaks  forth  i 

^  Bat  Jeshuruu  grc^^ir  fyi  af)d  reaisted  ^ 
M  Thou  grewest  fut,  thou  wast  made  thickf  thou  .waaj^  osvereit 

««  with  fal !  • 

^  And  he  deseited  the  God  that  made  him, 
*<  And  despised  the  rock  of  his  salvation." 

The  abrupt  transition  in  one  short  sentence  to  the  Israel» 
itesyand  back  again»  is  wonderfully  forcible  and  pointed, 
and  excellently  expressive  of  disgust  and  indignation*, 
There  is  a  passage  of  Virgil,  which,-  though  it  be  less, 
animated,  is  certainly  not  unworthy  of  being  coroparecl-' 
with  this  of  Moses ;  it  is  that  in  which,  by  an  ingenious 
apostrophe,  he  upbraids  the  truitor  with  his  crime,  and 
at,t))e  same  time  exonerates  th^  king  from  the  ucpputa^ 
tion  of  cruelty  : 

By  godlike  TuUus  doomed  the  trahor  dies» 
(And  thou,  false  Metiu&y  dost  too  late  rtpent 
Thy  violated  faith  !)  by  furious  steeds 
In  pieces  torn,  his  entrails  strew  the  ground. 
And  the  lowibrambles  drink  bis  streaming  blood.* 

I  might  proceed,  and  produce  several  examples  in. 
point  from  the  same  poem,  and  innumerable  from  other 

4-  .«fin.  viii.  642. 


AtoV.tA  EXFRESSIOK.  WX 

paits  of  the  sflfcred  wi^hings,  difl^rent  from  ^adh  other 
both  in  expression  and  form.  These,  however,  are  su£» 
fcient  to  denMnbtrate  the  force  of  this  kind  of  compaHi 
Hon  in  expressinig  the  more  vehement  afft^ctions^  and  in 
fMrkin^  thoise  sadden  emotfons,  which  distract  the  mind 
at)d  divide  its  attention.  But  ^n^oever  ml)  attend  vritil 
«nyyliligence  to  the  poetry  of  the  Hebreiirs,  will  find  that 
examples  of  this  kind  almost  perpettiatly  occur,  and 
nifich  more  fre()Aenlly,  than  could  be  ^endured  in  the 
poetry  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  or  even  in  our  own  i 
he  Will  find  many  of  these  instances  not  easy  to  be  urn 
dtrstood ;  th^  force  and  (ie«fi)Brn  of  some  of  them,  ^htk 
separately  consiilered,  are  indeed  soaik)ely  fo  be  explaim 
cd,  or  even  perfeculy  c<^mprehended«  The  readier  will 
not,  however,  be  Warranted  in  concluding  from  this  con*» 
cession,  that  ibon^  viefy  passaged  which  are  most  obscure 
are  ill  thCnvselveii'  absurd,  and  that  they  possess  no  geH^ 
eral  force  or  effect  in  distinguishing  dte  diction,  m  sus^ 
taining  the  poetic  spirit,  and  in  forming  that  peculiar 
character^  wbich^  tlowever  it  may  difier  from  what  w^ 
are  accustomed  to,  is  in  its  kind  altogether  deser^'ing  of 
applause.  In  this  case  we  ought  to  consider  the  proper 
genius  and  character  of  the  Hebrew  poetry.  It  is  un- 
constrained, animated,  bold,  and  fervid.  The  Orientals 
look  upon  the  language  of  poetry  as  wholly  distinct  from 
that  of  common  life,  as  calculated  immediately  for  ex- 
pressing the  passions :  if,  therefore,  it  were  to  be  reduc- 
ed  to  the  plain  rule  and  order  of  reason,  if  every  word 
and  sentence  were  to  be  arranged  wiili  care  and  study, 
as  if  calculated  for  perspicuity  alone,  it  would  be  no 
longer  what  they  intended  it,  and  to  call  it  the  language 
of  passiorf  would  be  the  grossest  of  solecishis. 

The  other  observation,  to  which  I  alluded  as  renting 
both  to  this  poem  and  lo  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  in 


Mi  SUBLIMITY  OF  Lbcv.  If, 

general,  is,  that  you  there  find  a  ttiucfa  more  frrquent 
change  or  variation  of  the  tenses  dian  occurs  in  common 
language.  The  chief  aim  of  such  a  trantttton,  b,  to 
render  the  subject  of  a  narration  or  description  mora 
striking,  and  even  to  embody  and  give  it  a  viable  ex- 
istence.* Thus,  in  ail  languages,  in  prose  an  well  as  po- 
etry, it  is  usual  to  speak  of  past  as  wetl  aa  fiiturt  events 
in  the  present  tense,  by  which  means  whatever  is  de- 
scribed or  expressed  is  in  a  manner  brought  immedir 
stely  bdbre  our  eyes ;  nor  does  the  mind  contemplate  a 
distant  object»  by  looking  back  to  the  past  or  farward 
to  the  future^  But  in  this  respect  there  is  a  great  pe^ 
culiarity  in  the  Hebrew  languagCt  For  the  Hebrew 
verbs  have  no  form  for  expresidng  the  imperfect  or  in- 
definite  of  the  present  tense,  or  an  actioo  which  now  13 
performing :  this  is  usually  ejected  by  a  p^irticiple  only» 
or  l)|y  a  verb  substantive  understood,  neither  of  whiph 
are  ^ten  made  usf  of  in  such  passage^  as  th^se,  nor  in* 
deed  can  be  always  conveniently  admitted*  They, 
therefore,  take  another  method  of  attaining  this  end,  and 

s  The  change  of  tenses  here  remarked  on,  is  no  more  a  peculiarity  of  the 
Hebrew  poetry  than  of  our  own.  Perhaps  there  does  not  exist  a  finer  in« 
•tance  of  a  poit  event  rendered  prttaUt  by  this  means.  th|ui  i|i  the  follow* 
ing  description  by  Dryden  : 

He  sung  Papus  great  and  |pood, 

By  too  severe  a  fate. 
Fallen,  fallen,  fiOlen,  fallen, 
fallen  irttfn  his  high  estate, 
And  welt'ring  in  his  blood  ; 
Deserted  at  his  utmost  need. 
By  those  his  former  bounty  fod  : 
pn  the  bare  earth  expos'd  he  uss, 
fVith  not  a  friend  to  close  his  tycM, 

Kor  is  there  a  less  bippy  example  of  futyrt  events  made  prewentt  m  the 
^aasof  Gray  :  ' 

Visions  of  glory,  spare  my  achfaig  Sight, 

Te  vnbam  t^^cs,  p-vwJ  not  on  my  soul !  te.  8ic*  S.  p. 

....  .      .  .       ^ 


tsor.U.  EXPRESSION.  Ml 

for  the  sake  of  dcameis  and  prrcisioiH  express  futui^ 
events  by  the  past  tense,  or  rather  by  the  perfect  present, 
as  if  they  had  actually  taken  place ;  and,  on  the  contrary^ 
past  events  by  the  future,  as  if  immediately  or  speedily 
to  happen,  and  only  proceeding  towards  their  compio- 
tion.  Of  the  first  of  these  forms  of  construction,  name- 
ly, die  expressing  of  the  future  by  the  past  tense,  an  in- 
stance  which  we  just  now  quoted  will  demonstrate  both 
the  nature  and  the  effirct. 

Moses  foreseeing,  by  the  impulse  of  divine  inspira* 
tion,  die  miserable  negka  of  the  true  worship,  into 
which  the  people  of  Israel  were  universally  to  relapse, 
reprobates  in  the  following  terms  the  vices  of  that  un- 
grateful people,  as  if  they  had  been  already  committed 
in  his  immedi»te  presence : 

n  Their  •▼il  ditpotitidD  hath  corrupted  hb  children,  which  are 
M  indeed  no  longer  hi».'^ 

Thus  he  speaks  as  if  he  were  the  actual  witness  of  their 
depravity,  and  present  at  those  impious  rites,  with  which 
they  were  about  to  violate  a  religion  divinely  instituted 
through  hb  means.  Nothing  can  be  more  efficacious 
than  this  kind  of  anticipation  to  the  clear,  evident,  and 
almost  ocular  demonstration  of  things.  On  this  account 
it  is  a  very  ppmmon  mode  of  expression  in  the  prophet- 
ipal  writings ;  and  in  this,  as  in  every  other  excellence, 
](saiah  particularly  challenges  our  highest  admiration. 
Observe  only  with  what  exactness  and  perspicuity  he 
has  delineated  the  journey  of  Sennacherib  towards  Jeru- 
aalem,  and  the  different  stages  of  the  army ;  insomuch 
that  the  light  and  evidence  which  the  prophet  throws 
upon  the  circumstances  of  the  prediction,  fail  nothing 
short  of  the  clearness  and  accuracy  of  an  historical  wj^^ 
fatipn: 


tO#  SUBLfMfTT  «ir  UM.  «#. 


«  He  it  come  to  Aialh  ;  he  huh  pasted  to 
<«  At  Michmat  he  will  de|KMite  hit  baggage. 
^  They  have  passed  the  strait ;  Geba  is  their  lodging  for  the  night: 
«  Ramah  is  frightened  ;  Giheah  of  Saul  flccih. 
(«  Cry  aloud  with  thy  voice,  O  daughter  of  Galliih ; 
«  Hearken  onto  her«  O  Laitfa ;  answer  her,  O  Anathodi. 
«<  Madneoa  it  gone  away  s  the  iahabttmu  of  Gobim  flee  amaiD* 
«  Yet  this  da^  shall  he  abide  in  Nob ; 

^  He  shall  shake  his  hand  against  the  mount  of  the  daughter  of 
«  Sion/'* 

Thus  the  plague  of  locust3  is  denounced,  and  described, 
as  if  it  had  aheady  happened,  by  the  profihet  Joei : 

•<  For  a  aaciDn  hathgone  up  on  my  land, 
««  Who  are  strong  aad  witboot  number : 
^  They  have  destroyed  my  vine,  and  ha?e  made  my  fig-tree  a 

*^  broken  branch. 
<<  They  have  made  it  quite  bare,  and  catt  it  away :  the  branchea 

^  thereof  are  made  white. 
<<  The  field  b  laid  waste ;  the  ground,  the  groond  moumeth."^ 

The  prophet  is  undoubtedly  here  speaking  of  a  future 
event ;  for,  the  very  devastation,  which,  to  strike  the 

s  IBAT.  X.  9S— 3Q.  In  the  39th  verae  1  think  with  the  CaAxaas  ptaim^ 
phrast,  that  for  lab  we  should  read  nob-  How  others,  or  the  greater  pu% 
may  have  read  it,  is  not  sufficiently  apparent  {  but  to  me  it  appears  of  con- 
siderable importance,  as  well  to  the  sense  as  the  elegance  of  the  passage. 
Ofumiak  Cfnanathtth  in  ver.  30,  here  the  epithet  aUttdea  to  the  meaning  or 
etymology  of  the  name,  as  if  he  had  said^— 

**  Alas !  thy  name  is  too  well  founded  in  tnith." 
I  would  remark  here,  that  if  the  reader  deairea  to  understand  how  much 
the  prophets,  and  particularly  Isaiah,  an  attached  to  beaatiea  ef  this  kand^ 
he  may  be  satisfied  on  consulting  the  following  passages :  Isai.  r,  7.  ziii.  6. 
xxiT.  17.  xxTii.  T.  xxxiii.  1.  Wii.  6.  Ixi.  3.  Ixt.  11,  13.  Jib.  xlviil  3.  Eskk, 
viL  6.  Uos.  ix,  15.  Amos  ▼.  5.  ^ic.  L  10^15.  Zapx.  iL  4.  See  alse 
Gix.  ix.  37.  xlix.  8^16,  19.  Perhaps  the  Sr«.  may  be  right  in  this  paa- 
sage,  Bear,  0  LaUha  /  and  antwer,  0  AnathM  /  It  reads  Ve-ffnani, 
*'  In  the  word  LaUha,  the  If  is  wanting  in  one  manuscript.  In  ver.  33, 
*<  many  manuscripts,  and  some  editions,  read  na  :  which  is  one  example 
**  among  many,  in  which  the  text  of  many  manuaoripta,  and  of  the  nld««l 
^  cditiona,  agreea  with  the  Kerl"    K.        AiOho^B  J^eif. 


Imcm-^^  BXPVTESSION.  SOf 

more  ferdUy  on  the  mindt  he  has  thus  dq)icted  as  an 
evcntf  already  past«  is  threatened  by  him  in  the  sequel- 
Under  another  image  to  be  immedbtely  inflicted/  unless* 
the  peopk  repent  of  their  wickedness.  Thus  far  the 
Hebrew  language  di&rs  not  materiaUf  from .  others ; 
those  fiitore  actions  or  e\ents  which  other  writers,  for 
tfie  sake  of  force  and  clearness^  express  in  the  imper- 
fect present,  the  Hebrews  express  in  the  perfect  present 
with  equal  effect. 

In  another  point,  it  must  be  confessed,  they  differ 
essentially  from  «other  writers^  namdy,  when  they  inti« 
mate  past  events  in  the  form/ of  the  future  tense :  and  I 
must  addv  that  this  is  a  matter  of  considerable  difficulty, 
ff  we  resort  to  the  translators  and  commentators,  so  far: 
are  they  £*Qm  affordii^  any  solution,  that  they  do  not 
so  much  as  notitce  it,  accommodating  as  much  as  pos- 
sible the  form  of  the  tenses  to  the  subject  and  context, 
anA  explaining  it  rather  aocording  to  their  own  opin- 
ions, than  according  to  the  rules  of  grammar,  or  any 
fixed  and  established  principles.  If  again  we  apply  to 
the  grammarians,  we  shall  still  find  ourselves  no  less  at 
a  loss ;  they,  indeed,  remark  the  circumstance,  but  they 
neither  explain  the  reason  of  it,  nor  yet  are  candid  e- 
nough  to  make  a  fair  confession  of  their  own  ignorance» 
They  endeavour  to  confuse  their  disciples  by  the  use  of 
a  Greek  term,  and  have  always  at  hand  a  sort  of  inex- 
plicable and  mysterious  enattege  or  change  of  the  tenses^ 
with  which,  rather  than  say  nothing,  they  attemfit  td 
evade  a  closer  inquiry ;  as  if  the  change  were  made  by 
accident,  and  from  no  principle  or  motive :  than  which 
nothing  can  be  conceived  more  absurd  or  impertbent.^ 

•  I  have  no  inclaui^oii  to  eontndact  our  author  is  Uris  Mtcrtioo.    The 
t  jMHwmgtbq»coatiat  with  dafending  thi>  phrntolpay  ao  m 


SOS  SUBLIMITT  OF  LacT.  U* 

That  these  apparent  anomalies,  however,  are  not  without 
their  peculiar  force  and  beauty,  I  have  not  a  doubt ; 
that  many  of  them  should  cause  difficulty  and  obscurity^ 
considering  the  great  antiquity  of  the  Hebrew  ianguage, 
b  not  to  be  wondered  at.  Some  light  may  notwith- 
standing be  reflected  upon  the  subject,  by  a  careful  at- 
tention  to  the  state  of  the  writer's  mind,  and  by  consid* 
a*ing  properly  what  ideas  were  likely  to  be  prevalent  ia. 
hb  imagination  at  the  time  of  hb  writing.  There  b  a 
remarkable  instance  of  thb  form  of  construction  in  that 
very  song  of  Moses,  to  which  we  have  just  been  allud- 
ing. After  mentioning  the  divine  dbpensation,  by 
which  the  Israelites  were  distinguished  as  the  chosen 
people  of  God,  he  proceeds  to  state  with  what  love  and 
tenderness  the  Almighty  had  cherished  them,  from  the 

ciullege,  Init  have  distinguished  it  by  the  name  of  the  pruphUU  preterite. 
They  might  as  well  hare  called  it  the  prophetic  preweni,  sincet  as  the  Hehrev 
language  wantp  th^  piruent  tetue,  the  past  is  always  substituted  in  its  roMn. 
But  howeTer  they  may  chuse  to  distinguish  it,  whether  as  a  prophetic 
present  or  a  prophetic  preterite,  it  is  by  no  means  unusual  in  the  more 
i^odeni  langUAges.    Thus  in  Engl'iah  the  author  of  a  poem  called  Manners : 
**  Rapt  into  thought,  lo !  I  Britannia  see 
*'  Rising  superior  o'er  the  subject  sea : 
**  And  h^  gay  pendants  spread  their  silken  wings 
**  Big  with  the  fate  of  empires  and  of  kings.** 

Thus  the  Sybil  in  Virgil :  " 


'  **  in  regna  Larini 


**  Dardanids  veniens.**  M. 

If  the  learned  professor  had  been  very  convenant  in  ottf  poetry,  lie 
might  haye  found  many  more  striking  examples  than  that  which  he  has 
quoted,  and  particularly  in  the  poems  of  Mr  Gray.  Indeed  this  is  by  no 
means  a  &Tourable  specimen  of  Bnglisk  poetry.— Am  and  aea  is  no  rhyme* 
being  exactly  the  same  sound.— .«  The  gay  pendanU,  and  silken  wings  big 
with  the  fate  of  empires,"  8ic.  is  a  false  metaphor :  if  we  even  overlook  the 
plagiarism^"  Big  -with  theftUe  of  Cato  and  of  Rome.** 

For  the  information  of  modem  writera,  who  may  chuse  to  make  use  of 
this  bold  figure,  I  will  add  a  remark,  that  it  if  never  to  be  mtroduced,  but 
when  the  mind  as  sufficiently  warm  not  to  perceive  the  illusion.  The 
secne  must  b»  so  intctcsting  that  the  leader  cannot  help  venlismg  it    T. 


^BGT.  15.  ULF1BB8CON.  809 

time  in  which  he  brou^t  them  from  Egypt,  led  them 
.by  the  hand  throagh  the  wilderness,  and,  as  it  were, 
carried  diem  in  hb  bosom:  all  these,  though  past 
e?entB,  are  expressed  in  the  future  tense : 

'     •«  He  will  find  biiti  in  a  desert  Isod, 
<«  In  ihe  vast  and  howling  wilderness  t 
«  He  will  lead  him  about,  he  will  instruct  him  ; 
«  He  will  keep  him  as  the  pupil  of  his  eye."** 

You  will  readily  judge  whetlier  this  passage  can  admit 
of  any  other  explication,  than  that  of  Moses's  supposing 
himself  present  at  the  time  when  the  Almighty  selected 
the  people  of  Israel  for  himself;  and  thence,  as  from  an 
eminence,  contemplating  the  consequences  of  that  dis- 
pensation. The  case  will  be  found  similar  in  many 
other  passages ;  as,  in  particular,  more  than  once  in  that 
historical  psalm,  which  is  inscribed  with  the  name  of 
Asaph.  After  the  prophet  has  exposed  the  perfidy  of 
the  people,  their  refractory  conduct  almost  in  the  very 
crisis  of  their  deliverance  from  the  Egyptian  bondage, 
he  in  a  manner  anticipates  in  his  mind  the  clemency  of 
God,  and  the  repeated  transgressions  of  the  Israelitesi 
and  speaks  of  them  as  future  events : 
«^  But 'be,  moved  with  compassioo,  will  pardon  their  iniquity,  and 

«*  will  not  destroy  them ; 
«  And  frequently  will  turn  away  his  wrath, 

«Nor  will  stir  up  all  his  indignation. 

«  How  often  will  they  rebel  agunst  him  in  the  desert, 
«  And  w)ll  grieve  him  in  the  wiidemes  !"i> 

M  DsuT.  xJoiL  10.    **  la  the  Saxab.  copy  we  read  u  follows : 

nfjVnnai 


«That  is.  He  rtitt  evmfvrt  Umin  the  Umd  of  the  deteri,  and  in  refeieiitg»  he 
**  wiU  plenttfitlfy  mtiAfi  him :  this  reading  ia  mentioned  only  thjit  it  may 
^  be  compared  and  examined  with  the  Hebrew.**    H.    See  HouBiMirv  in 
loc    Author*»  Jf9te. 
u  PsAi.  Ixzyiii.  3Q,  40.  / 

27 


3 10  SUHLIMiTY  OP  LscT.  15^ 

The  general  dispo^ion  and  armngemient  of  the  hundred 
and  fourth  Psalm  affords  a  most  elegant  exemplificaticm 
of  this  constniction.  For  the  prophet,  instwcing  the 
greatness  and  wisdom  of  God  in  the  constitution  and 
preservation  of  the  outural  world,  speaks  of  the  actions 
and  decrees  of  the  Almighty  in  the  present  tense,  as  if 
he  himself  had  been  a  witness  when  they  were  brought 
to  light ;  and  displays  their  consequences  and  uses,  and 
what  are  called  the  final  causes,  in  the  future  tense,  astf 
lookmg  forward  from'  the  beginning  through  all  future 
time. 

But  although  these  and  some  other  passages  will  ad* 
mit  of  this  explanation,  there  are  many  to  which  it  wiH 
not  apply.    In  these  the  situation  and  state  of  the  au- 
thors are  not  so  much  to  be  considered,  as  the  peculiar 
nature  or  idiom  of  the  language.     For  the  Hebrews  fire, 
quently  make  use  of  the  future  tense  in  such  a  manner, 
that  it  appears  not  to  have  relation  to  the  present  speak- 
er, but  to  the  person  or  thing  which  was  last  spoken  of! 
Thus  when  any  action  is  connected  with  another  action^^ 
or  consequent  to  it ;  or  when  the  same  action  is  repeat- 
ed or  continued,  when  a  person  perseveres  in  the  same 
action,  or  performs  it  with  great  eamestnes^or  assiduity, 
this  is  all  expressed  as  if  it  were  future.^    This  form  is 
therefore  distinguished  by  the  grammarians  by  the  ap- 
pellation Gnatklf  which  is  equivalent  to. prompt,  expe* 
dite,  or  impending.     Examples  enough  to  this  purpose 
might  be  produced  from  the  passages  which  have  been 
referred  to  on  former  occasions  :  for  instance,  from  that 
most  elegant  prosopopoeia  of  the  mother  of  Sisera;^ 
fit>in  the  allegory  of  the  vine,  which  was  brought  out 
of  Egypt ;"  from  the  comparison  founded  on  the  ma- 
tt sec  2  Sam.  xii.3.        »  Jvwi.  r,  29.  ^4  pgA&.  Ixzx.  9, 1%  14. 


LscT.  IS.  EXPRESSION.  Sll 

ternal  piety  and  solicitude  of  the  eagle  ;^  the  form  and 
manner  of  aU  which  may  be  easily  perceived  by  an  at- 
tentive reader,  but  cannot  be  well  explained  by  the  most 
industrious  commentator.'* 

Now,  i^  as  I  have  stated,  this  unusual  form  of  con- 
struction be  the  eflfect  either  of  some  sudden  emotion  in 
the  speaker,  of  some  new  and  extraordinary  state  of 
mind ;  or  if,  on  any  other  account,  frpm  the  relation  of 
the  subject,  or,  the  genius  of  the  language,  it  be  possess-, 
cd  of  some  peculiar  force  or  energy  ;  it  will  obviously 
follow,  that  it  must  more  frequently  occur  in  poetry  than 
in  prose,  since  it  is  particularly  adapted  to  the  nature, 
the  versatility,  and  variety  of  the  former,  and  to  the  ex- 
pression of  any  violent  passion ;  and  since  it  has  but  lit- 
tle affinity  to  that  mildness  and  temperance  of  language, 

u  Dkct.  xxxiL  11. 

10  I  ao  widely  diflTer  from  our  author,  that  I  have  very  little  doubt  of  ' 
wukini^  this  matter,  as  far  as  it  aeeessary  to  understand  his  meanxn|^,  per* 
fectly  intelligible  to  the  Eniplish  reader,  by  merely  exhibiting  the  passages 
in  question,  and  comparing  the  literal  with  our  common  translation.  In 
June.  T.  29,  our  version  roads,  **  Her  wise  ladies  answer  her ;  yea,  she  re- 
"  turned  answer  to  herself.'*  In  the  original  it  is,  **  Her  wise  ladies  wUl 
**  answer  her  ;  yea,  she  vdU  return  answer  to  herself  In  Psal.  Ixxz.  8, 
oor  translation  is»  **  Thou  broughtest  a  vine,**  &c.  In  the  original,  **  Thou 
**  -mU  bring  a  vine,"  &c,  ^  thou  -wiU  cast  out,"  &c.  In  Dxur.  xxxii.  11, 
oor  Bible  reads,  **  As  an  eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest,  fluttereth  orer  her 
**  young,  spreadeth  her  wings,"  &c.  In  the  original  it  is,  **  As  the  eagle 
mil  stir  up,  rriU  flutter,  wiU  spread  her  wings,"  Sec  It  is  not  uncommon  in 
vulgar  language  even  in  this,  country,  and  particularly  the  northern  part»  . 
of  it,  when  an  action  b  deacribed  in  the  general,  ,as  in  the  above  allusion 
of  the  eagle,  to  use  the  future  tense  ;  and  if  that  very  passage  had  been 
literaUy  translated,  thd  fiorapariaon  would  b«re  been  equally  intelligible  to 
our  common  people.  But,  I  must  confess,  there  is  after  all  a  most  licen^ 
tious  use  of  the  different  tenses  prevalent  in  the  Hebrew  language,  which 
to  us,  who  are  uiucquainted  with  the  principles  of  it,  creates  strange  cgnfu- 
sion,  and  obliges  us  commonly  to  have  recourse  to  the  context,  and  the 
apparent  design  of  the  passage.  Nor  do  all  these  very  ingenious  hypoth- 
eses of  our  author  entirely  remove  the  difficulty ;  or  explain  the  principles 
•f  fhis  form  of  construction  to  my  satisfaction.    T, 


313  SUBLIMITY,  &c  LxcT.  is. 

i^hich  proceeds  in  one  uniform  and  even  tenour.  Thus 
if  we  attend  diligently  to  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  and 
carefully  remark  its  peculiar  characteristics,  we  shall 
hardly  find  any  circumstance,  the  regular  and  artificial 
conformation  of  the  sentences  excepted,  which  more  evi- 
dently  distinguishes  it  from  the  style  of  prose  composi- 
tion, than  the  singularity  which  is  now  under  considera- 
tion. For  though  it  be  allowed,  that  this  idiom  is  not 
8D  entirely  inconsistent  with  prose,  but  that  a  few  ex- 
amples of  it  might  be  produced,'^  on  the  whole  I  am 
convinced,  that  the  free  and  frequent  use  of  it  may  be 
accounted  as  the  certain  characteristic  of  poetry. 

That  the  full  force  of  these  and  other  peculiarities, 
which  serve  to  distinguish  the  poetical  diction  of  the 
Hebrews,  and  to  preserve  that  sublimity  and  splendour 
for  which  it  is  so  remarkable,  should  be  fully  apparent 
from  a  few  examples,  is  hardly  to  be  expected;  nor  did 
I  flatter  myself  with  any  such  expectation,  when  I  en- 
tered upon  this  part  of  my  subject.  My  intention  was 
only  to  produce  an  instance  or  two,  which  were  most 
likely  to  occur  to  those  who  enter  upon  this  course  of 
reading,  and  whidi  appeared  to  demand  particular  at- 
tention. The  perfect  character  and  genius,  the  whole 
form,  principles,  and  nature  of  the  poetical  diction  and 
ornaments,  can  neither  be  comprehended  in  any  minute 
or  artificial  precepts  whatever,  ncHr  perhaps  be  reduced 
altogether  to  rule  and  method :  the  complete  knowledge 
and  perception  of  these  are  only  to  be  attamed  by  read- 
ing and  investigation,  united  with  acuteness  of  judge- 
ment and  delicacy  of  taste. 

^7  Hitherto  I  have  only  met  with  the  Ibllowtn^ :  Judo.  ii.  1.  (lee  however 
HouBieASTT  in  loc.)  and  xxi.  25  1  Sam.  xxvii.  9,  11.  2  Sax.  xii.  31.  1 
KiHGs  xxi.  6.    1  Chboit.  xi.  8.    See  also  Pstxks  on  Job,  page  202. 


LECTURE  XVI. 

PP  SUBUHITY  OF  SENTIMENT. 

Sublimity  of  sentiment  arises,  either  from  elevation  of  mind,  or  from  some 
▼ebement  passion ;  in  each,  it  is  either  natural,  or  the  efl^  of  divine  in* 
apffaticm-JSleYation  of  mind  is  displayed  in  the  gteatneis  of  the  subject» 
the  adjuncts,  and  thfe  imagery— Examples  from  the  descriptions  of  the 
Divine  Majesty;  of  the  works  and  attributes  of  the  Deity  ;  also  from 
the^display  of  the.  ttvaie  n9wer  in  the  form  of  Intervogation  and  Irony^ 
The  Hebrew  poets  attribute  the  human  passions  to  the  Deity  without  de- 
parting^ from  sublimity  ;  and  that  frequently  when  the  imagery  appears 
least  oonaistent  with  the  Divine  Majesty :  the  reason  of  this. 

JLf  we  consider  the  very  intimate  connection^  which  on 
aB  occasions  subsists  between  sentiment  and  language, 
if  will  perhaps  appear,  that  the  peculiar  quality,  erf*  which 
we  have  just  been  treating,  under  the  title  of  Sublimity 
of  Expression,  might  ultimately  be  referred  to  that  of 
Sentiment.  In  the  strictest  sense,  however.  Sublimity 
of  Sentiment  may  be  accounted  a  distinct  quality,  and 
may  be  said  to  proceed,  eidier  firora  a  certain  elevation 
of  mind,  and  a  happy  boldness  of  conception ;  or  from 
a  strong  impulse  of  the  soul,  when  agitated  by  the  more 
violent  afirctions.  The  one  is  cabled  by  Long^nus 
Grandeur  of  Conception^  the  other  Fehemence  or  -E«. 
thusiasm  of  Passion.  To  each  of  these  we  must  have 
recourse  in  the  present  disquisition,  and  in  applying 
them  to  the  sacred  poets,  I  shall  endeavour  to  detract 
nothing  from  the  dignity  of  that  inspiration,  which  pro- 
ceeds from  higher  causes,  while  I  allow  to  the  genius  of 
each  Mrriter  hia  own  peculiar  excellence  and  accomplish- 


aU  SUBLIMITY  OP  L»ct.  16. 

ments.  I  am  indeed  of  opinion,  that  the  Divine  Spirit 
by  no  means  takes  such  an  entire  possession  of  the  mind 
of  the  prophet,  as  to  subdue  or  extinguish  the  character 
and  genius  of  the  man :  the  natural  powers  of  the  mind 
are  in  general  elevated  and  refined,  they  are  neither  erad- 
icated nor  totally  obscured  ;  and  thoughUhe  writings  of 
Moses,  of  David,  and  of  Isaiah,  always  bear  the  marks 
of  a  divine  and  celestial  impulse,  we  may  nevertheless 
plainly  discover  in  them  the  particular  characters  of 
their  respective  authors. 

That  species  of  the  sublime,  which  proceeds  from  a 
boldness  of  spirit,  and  an  elevation  of  the  soul,  whether 
inherent  in  the  author,  or  derived  from  a  divine  impulse 
and  inspiration,  is  displayed  first  in  the  greatness  and 
sublimity  of  the  subject  itself^  secondly»  in  the  choice 
of  the  adjuncts  or  circumstances  (by  the  importance  and 
magnitude  of  which  a  degree  of  force  and  elevatioB  is 
added  to  the  description  0  and  lastly,  in  the  ^lendour 
and  magnificence  of  the  ilhagery,  by  which  the  whole  is 
illustrated.  In  all  these  the  Hebrew  writers  have  ob- 
tained  an  unrivalled  pre-eminence.  As  far  as  respects 
the  dignity  and  importance  of  the  subject»  they  not  oply 
surpass  all  other  writers,  but  even  exceed  the  confines 
of  human  genius  and  intellect..  The  greatness,  the  pow- 
er, the  justice,  the  immensity  of  God ;  the  infinite  wis- 
dom of  his  works  and  of  his  dispeosations»  are  the  sub- 
jects in  which  the  Hebrew  poetry  is  always  conversant, 
and  always  excels.  If  we  only  consider  with  a  common 
degree  of  candour  how  greatly  inferior  the  poetry  of  all 
other  nations  appears,  whenever  it  presumes  to  treat  of 
these  subjects ;  and  how  unequal  to  the  dignity  of  the 
matter  the  highest  conceptions  of  the  human  genius  are 
found  to  be ;  we  shall,  1  think,  not  only  acknowledge 
the  sublimity,  but  the  divinity  of  that  of  the  Hebrjews* 


Lb^t*  U.  sentiment.  tits 

Nor  dbes  this  grea1»iess  and  elevation  consist  altogether 
In  the  subjects  and  sentiments,  which,  however  express- 
ed, wouM  yet  ret&in  some  pirt  at  least  of  their  native 
force  and  dignity,  but  the  tnanner  in  whieh  these  lofty 
ide^s  are  arranged,  and  the  embellishments  of  descrip- 
^tion  with  which  they  aboufid,  claim  our  wartnest  admi- 
fation :  and  this,  whether^  we  regard  the  adjuncts  or  cir- 
cumstances,  which  are  selected  with  so  much  judgement 
as  uniformly  to  contribute  to  the  sublimity  of  the  prin- 
cipal  subject ;  or  the  amplitude  of  that  imagery,  which 
represents  objects  the  most  remote  from  human  appre- 
hension in  such  enchanting  colonrs,  that,'  although  de- 
based by  human  painting,  they  still  retain  their  genuine 
sanctity  and  excellence.  Since,  therefore,  the  sublimity 
of  the  sacred  poets  has  been  already  exemplified  in  a  va- 
riety of  instances,  it  will  probably  be  sufficient,  in  addi- 
tion to  these,  to  produce  a  few  examples  as  illustrations 
of  these  remarks,  chiefly  taken  from  those  parts  of  Scrip. 
ture,  in  which  a  delineation  of  the  Divine  Majesty  is  at- 
tempted. 

In  the  first  place  then  let  me  recal  to  your  remem- 
brance the  solemnity  and  magnificence  with  which  the . 
power  of  God  in  the  creation  of  the  universe  is  depict- 
ed. And  here,  I  cannot  possibly  overlook  that  passage 
of  the  sacred  historian,  which  has  been  so  frequently 
commended,  in  which  the  importance  of  the  circum- 
stance and  the  greatness  of  the  idea  (the  human  mind 
cannot  indeed  well  conceive  a  greater)  is  no  less  remark- 
able than  the  expressive  brevity  and  simplicity  of  thd 
hnguage : — '*  And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light,  and 
••  there  was  light."*  The  more  word»  you  would  ac- 
cumulate upon  this  thought,  the  more  you  would  de^ 

1  Gen.  i.  1 


946  SUBLlftHTy  OF  Lmt.  16. 

tract  from  the  subUmitjr  qC  k :  for  the  itodenrtandiiig 
quickly  comprehends  tbe  Divine  power  from  the  €&ct, 
and  perhaps  most  completely,  when  it  is  not  attempted 
.to  be  explained ;  the  perception  in  that  ease  is  the  mone 
vivid,  inasinuch  as  it  seems  to  proceed  from  the  proper 
act'ion  and  energy  of  the  mind  itself.  The  pro[rf)(^ 
have  also  depicted  the  same  conception  in  poetieal  lan- 
jgut^ge,  and  with  no  less  force  and  magkiificence  of  ck- 
pression. .  The  whole  creation  is  summoned  cforth  tlD 
^lebrate  the  praise  of  the  Almighty : 

a  ijit  tbem  praise  tbe  name  of  Jbhotab  ; 

((  For  he  commanded,  and  they  were  cjceated/'* 

And  in  another  place : 

<(  For  he  spoke,  and  k  ims ; 

^  He  commanded,  and  it  stood  £ist''^ 

The  same  subject  is  frequently  tvented  more  diffusely, 
many  circumstances  being  added,  find  a  variety  (Of  iai- 
agery  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  illustration.  Wheth.. 
er  this  be  executed  in  a  manner  suitable  to  the  .great» 
ness  and  dignity  of  the  subject,  may  be  easily  deter- 
mined by  a  few  exan^ples : 

«(  Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid  the  foimdadoaa  of  the  earth  ? 
«<  If  thou  hnowest,  decljsre. 

*<  Say,  who  fixed  the  proportions  of  it)  for  surelf  thou  knowest  i 
<i  Or  who  stretched  out  the  line  upon  It  ? 
^  Upon  what  were  its  foundations  fixed  ? 
H  Or  who  laid  the  corner-stone  thereof} 
M  When  the  morning  stars  sung  together, 
<<  And  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy. 
"  When  the  sea  was  shut  up  with  doors» 
«  When  it  burst  furth  as  an  infant  that  cometh  out  of  the  womb. 
«  When  I  placed  the  cloud  for  its  robe, 
«  And  thick  darkness  for  iu  swaddling-baod. 
<<  When  I  fixed  my  boundary  against  it| 
<i  When  1  placed  a  bar  and  gates. 

s  PsAX»  cxlviiL  5.  *  Psal.  zzziiL  9. 


Lsrtr.  U.  tBNTIMENT.  2tf 

^  Wbei^  I  md»  Tbup  frr  shalt  thou  cooKb  «n^  imK  «dvance, 

"  Aod  bere  shail  «  »top  be  put  to  the  prid<B  cif  thy  waves. '^^ 

<^  Who  hath  measured  the  waters  in  tbe  hollow  of  his  hand ; 

««  And  hath  meted  out  the  heavens  by  his  span  ; 

**  And  hath  comprehended  the  dust  of  the  earth  in  a  tiercei 

**  And  hath  wei)|;hed  in  scales  the  mountains,  and  the  hills, in  a 

»  balance  ? 
M  Lift  up  you^^yes  on  high ; 
^  And  see  who  hath  created  diese. 
•<  He  draweth  forth  their  armies  by  titmiber ; 
M  Hie  calleih  them  e^cb  by  iu  name :  ... 

^  Through  the  greatness  of  his  streogtbi  and  the  mightiness  of  Jiis 

"power,  •  ^. 

^  Not  one  of  tl>em  faileth  to  appear/*' 

In  these  examples,  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  De* 
ky^  as  demonstrated  in  the  constitution  and  government 
of  the  pattiral  world,  you  see  have  suggested  a  variety 
of  circumstances,  a  splendid  assemblage  of  imagery,  of 
which  it  is  a  sufficient  commendation  to  say,  the  whole 
is  not  unworthy  the  greatness  of  the  subject.  The  ease 
is,  however,  materially  different,  when  the  attributes  of 
God  are  considered  in  themselves  simply  and  abstract* 
edly,  with  no  illustration  or  amplification  from  their  op- 
erations ami  effects.  Here  the  human  mind  b  absorb*^ 
ed,  overwhelmed  as  it  were  in  a  boundless  vortex,  and 
studies  in  vain  for  an  expedient  to  extricate  itself.  But 
the  greatness  of  the  subject  may  be  justly  estimated  by 
its  difficulty ;  and  while  the  imagination  labours  to  com- 
prehend what  i^  beyond  its  powers,  this  very  labour  It- 
self, and  these  ineffectual  endeavours,  sufficiently  de« 
monstrate  the  immensity  and  sublimity  of  the  object. 
On  this  account  the  following  passage  is  truly  sublime. 
Here  the  mind  seems  to  exert  its  utmost  faculties  in 
vain  to  grasp  an  object,  whose  unparalleled  magnitude 
mocks  its  feeble  endeavours ;   and  to  this  end  it  em- 

4  Job  xxxriil  4-Xl.  '  l0Ai.li.  19  and  36. 

28 


Sia^  SUBLIMITY  OF  L«ct.  1«^ 

ploys  the  grandest  imagery  thtit  universal  nature  can 
suggest,  and  yet  this  imagery,  however  great,  proves 
totally  inadequate  to  the  purpose  : 

"  O  Jehovah,  thy  mercy  t>«tend<eth  to  the  heavens  ; 

»*  Thy  truth  unto  the  clouds  r 

<«  Thy  justice  is  as  the  mountains  of  strength  ; 

«  Thy  judgement  as  the  vast  abyss  t"* 

But  nothing  of  this  kind  is  nobler  or  more  majestic^ 
than  when  a  description  is  carried  on  by  a  kind  of  con- 
tinued negation  ;  when  a  number  of  great  and  sublime 
ideas  are  collected,  which,  on  a  comparison  with  the  ob- 
ject,  are  found  infinitely  inferior  and  inadequate.  Thus 
the  boundaries  are  gradually  extended  on  every  side, 
and  at  length  totally  removed ;  the  mind  is  insensibly 
led  on  towards  infinity,  and  is  struck  with  inexpressible 
admiration,  with  a  pleasing  awe,  when  it  first  finds  itself 
f  expatiating  in  that  immense  expanse.  There  are  many 
such  examples  in  the  sacred  poetry,  one  or  two  of  which, 
will  probably  enable  you  to  recollect  the  rest. 

M  Canst  thou  explore  the  deep  counsels  of  God, 

<<  Canst  thou  fathom  the  immensity  of  the  Almighty  ? 

*<  It  is  higher  than  heaven,  what  canst  thou  do  ? 

<«  It  is  deeper  than  the  abyss,  what  eanst  thou  know  f 

^  The  measure  thereof  is  longer  than  the  earth, 

M  And  broader  thaa  the  expanse  of  the  sea.**^ 

^  Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit  ? 

<«  And  whither  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ? 

M  If  I  ascend  the  heavens,  thou  art  there  ; 
'   <<  If  I  make  my  bed  in  the  abyss,  behold  thou  art  there  f 

«  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning, 

«  And  dwell  ki  the  extreme  parts  of  the  ocean ; 

M  There  also  thy  hand  shall  lead  met 

<«  And  thy  right  hand  &haU  hold  me."* 

s.Pmim  xxzvl  6^7»  r  Job  xL  7—9. 

•  PBAt.  czxziz.  7—10.  I  am  not  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  conunonly 
received  inter|yf«Uf  ioa  oftbe  9th  verse ;  as  expressive  of  the  contintial  mo» 
tiitn  from  Bast  to  Westfluid  the  velocity  of  the  ttotion  complied  with  tbst 


later.  16.  SENTIMENT.  1t\3 

Here  we  find  the  idea  of  Infinity  perfectly  «xpressed^ 
though  it  be  perhaps  the  most  difficult  of  all  ideas  to 
impress  upon  the  mind:  for  when  simply  and  abstract- 
edly mentioned,  without  the  assistance  and  iHustration 
of  any  circumstances  whatever,  it  almost  whfdiy  evades 
the  power  of  the  human  understandii^  The  sacred 
writers  have,  therefore,  recourse  to  description,  amplifi- 
cation, and  imagery,  by  which  they  give  substance  and 
solklity  to  what  is  in  itself  a  subtile  and  unsubstantial 
phantom ;  and  render  an  ideal  shadow  the  object  of  our 
senses.  They  conduct  us  thrmigh  aM  the  dimensions 
of  space,  length,  breadth,  and  height :  these  they  do  no| 
describe  in  general  or  indefinite  terms ;  they  apply  to 
them  an  actual  line  and  measure,  and  that  the  most  ex* 
tensive  which  all  nature  can  supply,  or  which  the  mind 

of  the  «iin's  rays.  I  look  upon  the  two  Unet  of  this  diitich  lo  be  in  contrast 
or  opposition  to  each  other,  and  not  that  the  Latter  is  a  ^consequence  of  the 
fcrmer  s  and  this  I  think  is  so  appwent  from  the  very  construction  of  th$^ 
stetences,  that  there  cannot  remain  a  doubt  concerning  it :  Thus  there  is  a 
double  transition  spoken  of,  towards  the  East»  and  again  towards  the  West; 
and  the  length  of  the  flight,  and  not  tiie  Telocity  of  the  motion,  is  the  ob- 
ject of  amplification.  Thus  Thuoboket  upon  this  passage,  **  He  calls  the 
**  East  the  Maming',  and  the  West,  the  extreme  part»  of  the  Sea.-  to  height 
**  and  depth  ho^jfyposes  breadth  iu»d  lengthy  describing  and  evinciiig  the 
^  infinity  of  the  Divine  Being.** 

**  The  author  of  a  very  useful  collection  of  Jewish  commentaries,  the 
^  title  of  whieh  it  JIBcM  /ephe,  says,  this  phrate.  If  J  take  thevfing»  ofths 
"  sJltermngt  should  be  understood  as  a  common  Oriental  phrase  for  depart^ 
**ure  or  JHght  to-war de  the  Eaet.  These  are  his  words.  If  I  take  the  -minfft 
'*  ef  the  Momingt  and  fly  vdth  them  /  i,  e.  If  I  go  to  the  extremity  of  the 
«« Eaet.    H.    ^vtker^e  JfT^te. 

I  cannot  afta^r  all  give  up  the  h^utiful  allegory  of  taking  the  vingi  (the 
speed,  the  jiwiftoess)  of  the  Mormng.  It  is  so  much  more  poetical,  so  much 
more  agreeable  to  tha  character  and  genius  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  that  I 
reluctanUy  dHFer  from  our  atithor,  and  retain  the  old  interpretation.  The 
passage  is,  on  the  whole,  the  most  beaUtifiil  instance  of  the  sublime,  with- 
out any  mixture  of  the  terrific,  with  no  images  but  the  placid  and  tender, 
that  is  any  where  to  be  found.  But  its  greatest  ezcelleBce  is,  that  it  is  no 
)ess  philosophical  than  poetical ;  no  less  useful  for  the  great  truth  which 
|t  inculc^ites,  than  pleasing  for  the  maiinf;^  in  which  that  trgith  is  conveyed. 

•     T 


2«0  SUBLIMITY  OF  Lsct.  U. 

16  ind^d  able  to  comprehend.  Wheh  tlie  intelleet  is 
carried  beyond  these  limits,  there  is  nothing  substantial 
upon  which  ft  can  resi ;  it  wanders  through  eveiy  part^ 
atid  when  it  has  compassed  the  boundaries  of  creation, 
h  imperceptibly  glides  into  the  void  of  inftMy :  whose 
vast  and  formless  extent,  when  displayed  to  the  mind  of 
man  in  ihe  forcible  manner  so  happily  attained  by  the 
Hebrew  l¥rifcA-9,  impresses  it  widi  the  soblimest  and 
most  awful  sensationsi  and  fills  it  with  a  mixture  of  ad*»- 
ftiiratioh  and  terror* 

That  tncfre  vehement  species  of  negation  or  affirma* 
tion,  which  assumes  the  confident  fiirm  of  inteirogation» 
h  admirably  calculated  to  impress  the  mind  with  a  ver^r 
forcible  idea  of  the  Divine  poweK  This  also  frequent» 
ly  occurs  in  the  saci^d  poetry  : 

^  This  is  the  decree  which  is  determined  in  the  vhole  earth ; 
«*  And  this  the  hand,  which  is  stretched  out  over  all  the  nations : 
<<  For  Jehovah  God  of  Hosts  hath  decreed  f  and  who  ^hali  dis» 

««  sDnuI  it  ? 
«^  And  it  is  his  hand,  that  is  stretched  out ;   and  wlio  shall  turn  if, 

"  back  ?» 

<^  Hath  he  said,  and^will  he  nut  do  it  ? 

'<  Hath  he  spoken,  and  will  he  not  establish  it  ?!• 

>Ior  is  that  ironical  kind  of  concession,  which  is  some*, 
times  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  Supreme  Being,  less 
energetic ;  the  following  passage  is  an  admirable  in* 
stance: 

<'  Deck  thyself  now  with  majesty  and  with  pride ; 

"  And  array  thyself  in  glory  and  honour : 

^  Pout  out  on  every  side  the  furiousness  of  thy  wrath  ; 

^*'  \Vi\h  a  glance  humble  every  one  that  is  proud  : 

«'  Look  upon,  every  proud  thing,  and  subvert  it ; 

<«  And  trample  down  the  wicked  m  their  place  i 

^  Overwhehn  them  also  in  dust ; 

u  Bind  up  their  facet,  and  plunge  them  into  darkness. 

9  IsAi.  xiv.  26,  27.  »  NuxB.  xxiii.  19. 


Lft«T>  If.  SENTIMENT.  :3gl 

«  TbM  will  •¥«»  I  confess  unto  thee» 

<<  That  UuDC  own  right  baniL  oMy  save  thee.i^ 

When  the  Divine  Omnipotence  is  opposed  to  human 
infirantj,  the  one  is  propoitionably  nisgnificd  as  the 
other  is  difflfaiiahed  by  the  contrast.  The  monstrous 
absurdity  of  a  comparison  between  things  extremely 
unequal,  the  more  forcibly  serves  to  demoiH>trate  that 
inequality,  and  sets  them  at  an  infinite  distance  from 
eachotlier*  «^ 

Since,  however,  the  sacred  poets  were  under  the  ne- 
cesaity  of  speaking  of  God  in  a  manner  adapted  to  hu- 
man conceptions,  and  of  attributing  to  him  the  actions^ 
die  passions,  the  fiiculties  of  man ;  how  can  they  be 
slippoaed  ever  to  have  depicted  the  Divine  Majesty  m 
terms  at  all  becoming  the  greatness  of  the  subject  ? 
And  are  diey  not  in  this  case  more  likely  to  disgrace 
and  degrade  it  ?  May  not  that  censure  be  applied  to 
them,  which  Longinus  so  deservedly  applies  to  Homer, 
that  he  turned  his  gods  into  men,  and  even  debased 
them  beneath  the  standard  of  humanity  ?«— The  case  is, 
however,  materially  di&rent:  Homer,  and  the  other 
heathen  poets,  relate  facts  of  their  deities,  which,  though 
impious  and  absurd,  when  literally  understood,  are 
scarcely,  or  at  aU  intelligible  in  an  allegorical  sense,  and 
can  by  no  means  be  reduced  to  an  interpretation  strictly 
figurative.^    On  the  contrary,  in  the  delineation  of  the 

i|  Jos  zl.  10—14.  Can  any  one»  who  has  duly  ooiuidered  the  history  of 
Nfanrod)  the  first  xevolter  against  God  and  founder  of  idolatry,  and  the 
signal  overthrow  of  his  stupendous  tower,  with  the  di^>er8ion  that  imme- 
diately ensued — afWr  well  weighmg  the  characteristic  topics  of  allusion  in 
the  Hebrew  poetry  (as  briefly  pointed  out  in  the  ixth  Lecture)  and  th^ 
orii^al  of  this  passage  from  the  6th  verse — entertain  a  doubt  to  what  the 
figurative  terpis  here  used  were  meant  to  allude  ^—1  should  think  it  scarce* 
ly  possible.  See  A  DistertaHon  on  the  Fauage»  m  St.  Peter  and  St.  Jude 
peneendng'  the  0mgel  that  ektned.    S.  U. 

19  See  Fabbvc,  BUUeth.  Orec.    L.  v.  c.  26.    Vol.  viii.  p.  526. 


332  SUBLIMITY  OF  Lxer.  1«. 

'  Divine  nature,  the  sacred  poets  do  indeed,  in  conformi- 
ty to  the  weakness  of  the  human  understanding,  employ 
terrestrial  imagery  ;  but  it  is  in  such  a  manner,  that  the 
attributes  which  are  borrowed  from  human  nature  and 
human  action,  can  never  in  a  literal  sense  be  applied  to 
the  Divinity.  The  understanding  is  continually  refer- 
ed  from  the  shadow  to  the  reality ;  nor  can  it  restt  satis* 
fied  with  the  bare  literal  application,  but  is  naturally  di* 
rected  to  investigate  that  quality  in  the  Divine  nature, 
which  appears  to  be  analogous  to  the  image.  Thb,  if 
I  am  not  mistaken,  will  supply  us  with  a  reason  not 
very  obvious,  of  a  very  observable  effect  in  the  Hebrew 
writings,  namely,  why,  among  those  sensible  images 
that  are  applied  to  the  Deity,  those  principally,  which 
in  a  literal  sense  would  seem  most  remote  from  the  ob- 

.  ject,  and  most  unworthy  of  the  Divine  Majesty,  are 
nevertheless,  when  used  metaphorically,  or  in  the  way 
of  comparison,  by  far  the  most  sublime.  That  image- 
ry, for  instance,  which  is  taken  from  the  parts  and 
member^  of  the  human  body,  is  found  to  be  much  no* 
bier  and  more  magnificent  in  its  effect,  than  that  which 
is  taken  from  the  passions  of  the  mind ;  and  that,  which 
is  taken  from  the  animal  creation,  frequently  exceeds  in 
sublimity  that  which  the  nature  of  man  has  suggested. 
For  such  is  our  ignorance  and  blindness  in  contemplat- 
ing the  Divine  nature,  that  we  can  by  no  means  attain 
to  a  simple  and  pure  idea  of  it :    we  necessarily  mingle 

^  something  of  the  human  with  the  divine :  the  grosser 
animal  properties,  therefore,  we  easily  distinguish  and 
separate,  but  it  is  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  we  can 
preserve  the  rational,  and  even  some  of  the  properties  of 
the  sensitive,  soul  perfectly  distirtct.  Hence  it  is,  that 
in  those  figurative  expressions  derived  from  the  nobler 
and  more  excellent  qualities  of  human  nature,  when  ap- 


<( 


Iact.  Itf*  SEMTIMKNT.  n$ 

plied  to  the  Almighty,  we  frequently  acquiesce,  as  if 
they  were  in  strict  literal  propriety  to  be  attributed  to 
him :  on  the  contrary,  our  understanding  immediately 
rejects  the  literal  sense  of  those  which  seeth  quite  in« 
consistent  with  the  Divine  Being,  and  derived  from  an 
ignoble  source,:  and,  while  it  pursues  the  analogy,  it 
constantly  rises  to  a  contemplation,  which,  though  ob- 
scure, i^  yet  grand  and  magnificent.  Let  us  observe, 
whether  this  observation  will  apply  to  the  following  pas- 
sages, in  which  the  psalmist  ascribes  to  God  the  resent- 
ment commonly  experienced  by  a  human  creature  for 
an  injury  unexpectedly  received :  there  appears  in  the 
image  nothing  to  excite  our  admiration,  nothing  par- 
ticularly sublime : 

9*  The  Lord  heard,  and  he  was  enraged  $ 
^  And  Israel  be  uuerly  rejected."» 

But  when,  a  litde  after,  the  same  subject  is  depicted  ia 
figurative  terms,  derived  from  much  grosser  objects,  and 
applied  in  a  still  more  daring  manner,  nothing  can  be 
mare  sublime : 

<<  And  the  Lord  awaked,  as  out  of  sleep, 

^  Like  a  strong  man  shouting  because  of  wine.**^^ 

On  the  same  principle  the  sublimity  of  those  passaged 
b  founded,  in  which  the  image  is  taken  from  the  roaring 
of  a  lion,  the  clamour  of  rustic  labourers,  and  the  rag; 
ef  wild  beasts : 

**  Jbroyah  from  on  high  shall  roar, 

^  And  from  his  bolj  habitation  shall  he  utter  hia  voice ; 

^  He  shall  roar  aloud  against  his  resting-place, 

^  A  shout  like  that  of  the  vinugers  shaU  he  give 

«  Against  aU  the  inhabitanU  of  the  earth."^  ^ 

<<  And  I  will  be  unto  them  as  a  lion ; 

•*  As  a  leopard  in  the  way  wiU  I  watch  them  r 

u  PiAs.  IzxTiiL  59.  *•  PsA&x  Ixsriil  65;        ^  Jn.  axv.  30. 


au  SUBLIMITY  0P,  Sec.  JLbot.  l^ 

»  I  will  meet  them  m  e  bear  bene«¥ed  pf  )w  whelfas 

«  And  I  will  vend  the  caul  of  their  heart  s 
«  And  there  will  I  devour  them  as  a  lioness ; 
M  A  beast  of  the  field  shall  tear  them.**'* 

From  ideas,  which  in  themselves  appear  coarse,  unsuit- 
able, and  totally  unworthy  of  $o  great  an  object,  the  mind 
naturally  recedes,  and  passes  suddenly  to  the  contem- 
plation of  the  object  itself,  and  of  its  inherent  magnitude 
and  importance. 
»  Hoi.  xiu.  7,  a. 


LECTURE  XVII. 

OP  THE  SUBUME  OF  PASSION. 

Stibljini^  of  aenthnent  t^  «rismg  from  the  vehement  affectiona  of  thenllind 
— ^What  is  commonly  called  Enthusiasm  is  the  natural  effect  of  passion;. 
'Oe  trae  Enthusiasm  arises  from  the  impulse  of  the  Dhrine  Spirit,  and  is 
peculiar  to  the  sacred  poet»— The  principal  force  of  poetry  is  displayed 
in  the  expression  of  passion :  in  exciting  the  passions  poetry  best  at^ 
ehieves  its  purpose,  whether  it  be  utility  or  pleasure-*How  the  passioM 
•re  excited  to  the  purpose  of  utility  i  how  to  that  of  pleasure— The  dif- 
ference and  connection  between  the  pathetic  and  the  sublime— Thatsub- 
limity,  which  in  the  sacred  poetry  proceeds  from  the  imitation  of  the 
passions  of  admiration,  of  joy,  indignation,  grief,  and  terror  s  illustrated 
by  examples. 

TT  H  have  agreed  with  Longinus,  that  a  violent  agita- 
tion of  the  mind,  or  impetuosity  of  passion,  constitutes 
another  source  <^  the  sublime :  he  calls  it  ^*  the  vehe- 
**  menoe  and  enthusiasm  of  passion*'*  It  will  be  prop* 
er,  therefore,  in  the  next  place,  to  consider  tlie  nature 
of  this  enthusiasm ;  the  principles  on  which  the  power* 
of  exciting  or  of  imitating  the  passions  in  poetry  may  be 
supposed  to  depend ;  and  what  affinity  subsists  between 
passicm  and  sublimity. 

The  language  of  poetry  I  have  more  than  once  des- 
cribed as  the  eflfect  <rf  jncntal  emotion.  Poetry  itself  is  J^ 
indebted  for  its  origin,  character,  complexion,  emphasis, 
and  application,  to  the  effects  which  are  produced  upon 
the  mind  and  body,  upon  the  imagination,  the  senses, 
the  voice,  and  respiration  by  the  agitation  of  passion.  "^/ 
Every  afiecticm  of  the  human  soul»  while  it  rages  with 
29 


\, 


// 


3»  THE  SUBUMK  hm^t.  ir. 

^  vi^gwe,  M  a  momentery  phrenzy.  When  dierefore  » 
poet  isable  by  the  force  of  genius,  or  rather  of  imagina- 
tion,  to  conceive  any  emotion  of  the  mind  so  perfectlj 

Cas  to  traiK&r  to  hi»  own  feelings  the  in^inctive  pasuoa 
,  ©f  another,  and,  agreeaUy  to  the  nature  of  the  sutgec^ 
to  express  it  in  aQ  its  vigpur,  such  a  one»  acconling  to 
a  common  mode  of  speaking,  may  be  said  to  possess 
the  true  poetic  enthusiasm,'  or,,  as  the  ancients  would 
have  expressed  it,  "  to  be  inspired ;  fuU  of  the  God  :»»• 
not  however  implying,  that  their  ardour  of  mind  wa» 
imparted  by  the  gods,  but  dkt  this  extuic  impulse  be- 
"^  came  the  God  of  the  moment.* 

This  species  of  enthusiasm  I  should  distinguish  by 
the  term  natural^  wese  it  not  that  I  ahouldaeem  to  con- 
nect things  whid»  are  reaHy  dtfibent,  and  repugnant  to 
each  other ;  the  true  and  genuuie  enthushsm,  that  which^ 
alone  is  deserving  of  the  name,  that  I  mean  with  which 
the  sublimer  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  and  particulariy  the 
prophetic,  is  animated,  b  ceitainly  widely  diflbent  m  its 
natitre„and  boast».a  raHcfa' briber  origin. 

Aa  poetry,-  however,  derives  its  v«ry  existence  fion» 
the  more  vehement  emotions  of  the  aund,.so^its  greatest 
energy  is  displayed  ittthc  expression  of  them ;  and  by 
exciting  die  passions  itmore  efieotuaUy  attains  its  end. 
V  Poetry  b  said  to  consist  in  imitation :  whatever  the 
human  mind  is  able  to  conceive,  it  b  the  provinoe  of 
poetry  to  igutatc ;  things,  places,,  appearances  nanual^ 
and  artificial,  actions,  passions,  manners  and  ousttMis ; 
and  since  the  human  intellect  is  naturally  delighted  mth 
every  species  of  imiution,  Uwt  species  in  particular, 

t  A*m*nt  «pi«Me*  k  /um^  (imwe.)  Pmto  u,^».  (out  of  tlieir  com- 
mon  lenae*,)  irfw  (uupired  by  ,.  God,)  »aww{Ml«  (i-nUi««ii«tic.) 

*  NUu*  ait.  Dine  bpnc  «rdoreai  mentibtt*  iddiint, 

Buiyale .'  an  sua  cuique  dcu»  fit  dira  ctq>ido  >       JEneid.  'a.  \»L 


Lscr.ir.  OP  PASSION.  TIT 

wMeh  exhibits  its  own  image»  which  tSisphys  and  de- 
picts those  impulses,  inflections,  perturbations,  and  se- 
cret emotions,  which  it  perceives  and  knows  in  itself, 
can  scarcely  fa3  to  astomsh  and  to  delight  above  every 
other.  The  delicacy  and  difficulty  of  this  kind  of  imi-^^ 
tation  are  among  its  principal  commendations ;  for  to  / 
effirct  that  which  appears  almost  impossible  naturally  ex*' 
cites  our  admiration.  The  understanding  slowly  per- 
ceives  the  accuracy  of  the  description  in  all  other  sub- 
jects, and  their  agreement  to  their  archeQrprs,  as  being 
obliged  to  compare  them  by  the  aid  and  through  the  un- 
certain medium,  as  it  were,  of  the  memory  :  but  when 
a  passion  is  expressed,  Ae  object  is  clear  and  distinct  at 
once ;  the  mind  is  immediately  conscious  of  itself  and 
its  own  emotions ;  tit  feels  and  sufiers  in  itself  a  sensation, 
either  the  same  or  similar  to  that  which  is  described. 
Hence  diat  siiUimity,  which  arises  from  the  vehement 
agitation  of  the  passions,  and  the  imitation  of  them,  pos- 
sesses a  superior  influence  over  the  human  mind ;  what- 
ever is  exhibited  to  it  from  witfiout,  may  well  be  sup- 
posed to  move  and  agitate  it  less  than  what  it  internally 
perceives,  of  the  mi^itude  and  fotct  of  which  it  is  pre- 
viously conscious. 

\  And  as  the  imitation  or  delineation  of  the  passiops  is 
the  most  perfect  production  of  poetry,  so  by  exciting  A 
them  it  most  comfdetely  effects  its  purpose.  The  intent 
of  poetry  is  to  profit  while  it  entertains  us ;  and  the  agi- 
tation of  the  paanons,  by  the  force  of  imitation,  is  in  the 
highest  d^;ree  both  useful  and  pleasant 

This  method  of  exciting  the  passions  is  yi  the  first 
place  useful,  ^en  properly  and  lawfully  exercised ;  that  7 
b,  when  these  passions  are  directed  to  their  proper  end» 
and  rendered  subservient  to  the  dictates  of  nature  and 
trudi ;  when  an  avcr^on  to  evil,  and  a  love  of  goodness 


9SS  THE  SUBLTME  Lscx.  17. 

is  excited ;  and  if  the  poet  deviate  on  my  occaaion  from 
,  this  great  end  and  aim,  he  is  guilty  of  a  most  scandalous 
^^abuse  and  perversicm  of  his  art«  For  the  passions  and 
affections  are  the  elements  and  principles  of  human  ac- 
tion ;  they  arc  ail  in  themselves  good,  useful»  and  virtu* 
ous ;  and,  when  fairly  and  naturally  employed,  not  only 
lead  to  useful  ends  and  purposes,  but  actually  prompt 
and  stimulate  to  virtue.  It  is  the  office  of  poetry  to  in* 
cite,  to  direct,  to  temper  the  passions,  and  not  to  extui* 
guish  them.  It  prdesscs  to  exercise,  to  amend,  to  dis* 
cipline  the  affections ;  it  is  this  which  is  strictly  meant 
by  Aristotle,  when  he  speaks  of  the  pruning  of  the 
passioMf  though  certain  cofmmentators  have  strangely 
perverted  his  meaning.' 

But  this  operation  on  the  paswos  is  also  more  irame-. 
diately  useful,  because  it  is  productive  of  pleasure. 
Every  emotiqp  of  the  mind,  (not  eiLcepting  even  those 
which  in  themselves  are  allied  to  pain)  when  excited 
through  the  agency  of  the  imitative  arts,  is  ever  accom- 
panied with  an  exquisite  sensation  of  pleasure.  Thia 
arises  partly  from  the  contemplation  of  the  imitation  it- 
self;  partly  from  the  consciousness  of  our  own  felicity, 
when  compared  with  the  miseries  of  others ;  but  princi- 
7  pally  /rom  the  moral  sense/  Nature  has  endued  man 
with  a  certain  social  and  generous  spirit;  and  commands 

9 1  think  nothing;  can  well  be  more  ridieuloos  than  the  establiahed  method 
of  renderii^  ifahiftalm  KAOAPXIN,  the  clean$ing  or  purging  of  the  patnoM' 
Why  should  a  seconaary,  or  adventitious  sense  of  a  word  be  adopted,  un- 
less its  primary  si^ification  be  incompatible  with  the  context  !^-4h  the 
eommon  version  of  Jobn  xt.  %  tmBtufu^  a  word  ^m  the  same  sotiice  with 
luAetfctf.  is  translated,  he  fukokth,  where  it  evidently  signifies  he  fevvkth  ; 
60  ToAttfULkn  wBiBmpatv,  instead  of  the  cLKiirsiire  or  pvacme  of  the  panione^ 
should  rather  be  the  CHXCKtire  of  their  exeentve  growth^  or  vaviriv»  their 
luxuriancetf  that  so  they  might  produce  their  proper  fniita.    8.  H. 

<  Sec  Lord  K Alms's  ElemenU  of  Criticiam^  YvL  I.  ch.  ii.  Dr.  PmiiSTLBT'a 
Zecturet  on  Oratory,  page  137,  and  Habtut  On  the  Buman  Mnd»  S  !▼• 
prop.  49.    T. 


LiCT.  ir«  XXP  PASSION.  ttt 

hkm  not  U>  con&ie  bis  cares  to  himself  alone«  but  to  ex* 
tend  them  to  all  his  feUow-oreatures ;  to  look  upon  noth« 
ing  which  relates  to  mankind  as  fonc^ign  to  himself. 
Thusi  ^*  to  rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  to 
**  weep  vt'iih  th^ro  tliat  weep ;"  tafeveandtorespect  piety 
and  benevolence  ;  to  cherish  and  retain  an  indignant  ha- 
tred of  cruelty  and  injustice  ;  that  is,  to  obey  the  dictates 
of  nature ;  is  right,  is  honest,  is  becoming,  is  pleasant. 

The  sublime  and  the  pathetic  are  intrinsically  very  s^^^ 
different ;  and  yet  have  in  some  respects  a  kind  of  affin-  y^ 
)ty  or  connection/    The  pathetic  includes  the  passions 

f  As  our  author  U  here  treating  of  that  apeciet  «f  the  mMmm,  vhich  ia 
connected  with  the  pathetic,  and  in  a  manner  depends  upon  it ;  it  may  not 
be  amiss  to  consider  a  little  the  means  of  exciting^  thu  sensation,  vhich 
have  been  employed  by  some  of  the  beat  writers. 

There  are  two  principal  modes  of  producing  this  mixed  sensation.  First, 
when  the  story  or  sentiment  is  suilicieiitly  striking  of  itself»  by  reducing 
all  the  circumstances  into  as  narrow  a  compass  as  possible,  and  causing 
them  to  flash  at  once  upon  the  mind ;  of  which  Livy's  description  of  the 
death  of  Lucretia  is  a  fine  example  :  and  this  appears  the  most  Qstursl,  and 
is  the  surest  mode  of  affecting  the  passions.  The  second  is,  by  drawing 
out  the  description,  heaping  circumstance  on  circumstance,  and  working 
Bp  the  mind  by  decrees :  this,  however,  is  rarely  accomplished  with  suifi. 
cient  taste  and  caution.  If  I  were  called  upon  to  specify  another  historical 
example,  I  would  refer  the  reader  to  the  description  of  Agrippina's  return 
after  the  death  of  Germanicus,  in  Tacitus ;  or,  I  might  add,  the  example 
quoted  by  our  author  from  the  song  of  Ddmrah  and  Barak,  Lect.  xiiL  The 
French  dramatic  writers  generally  fail  by  attempting  this  latter  mode  of 
siTecting  the  passions  ;  which  is  only  proper,  when  there  is  not  force 
«noogh  in  any  single  part  of  a  narration  i  or  when  a  picture  cannot  be 
drawn  in  a  few  words  sufficiently  explicit. 

Several  circumstances,  when  judiciously  introduced^  contribute  greatly 
to  the  pathetic,  and  consequently  to  that  branch  of  nUtfifnit^,  which  is  con* 
nected  with  it.    First,  When  innocent  and  helpless  persons  ar^  involved  in 
ruin.    To  introduce  an  infant  on  the  stage  in  a  tragedy,  though  a  common 
trick,  is  yet  seldom  destitute  of  effect.    I  must  however  remark,  that  if 
therp  be  many  to  participate  in  the  misfortune,  the  society  in  sorrow  seems 
to  lessen  its  wei^^t.    Secondly,  Absence  from  friends,  or  persons  other- 
wise very  dear  :    the  whole  of  that  inimitable  poem,  Mr.  Pope^»  Eloisai, 
^ords  a  strong  exapiple  of  this,  and  particularly  the  following  lines  : 
— *«  No,  fly  me,  fly  me,  far  ss  pole  from  pole  ; 
**  Rise  Alps  between  us  !  and  whole  oceans  roll ! 
"  \h  !  ^me  not,  write  not,  think  not  once  of  me."  289. 


%$0  THE  SUBLIME  Lsot.  If. 

which  we  feel,  and  those  which  we  excite.    Some  pas- 

uons  may  be  expressed  without  any  thing  of  the  sub- 

lime ;  the  sublime  also  may  exist,  where  no  passibn  is 

yy  directly  expressed :  there  is  however  no  sublimity  where 

\^  no  passion  is  excited.    That  sensation  of  sublimity» 

Thirdly,  Exile  : 

"  Metkinks  we  wandering  go 
**  Thio*  dreaiy  vutet,  and  weep  each  other^s  woe» 
**  Where  round  8€»iiie  mouldVing  tow'r  jNde  ivy  ereepa, 
**  And  low-hrow'd  rocks  hapg  nodding  o*er  Uie  deepa.**     /NdL  %^L 
<<  The  world  was  all  before  them,  where  to  chuae 
**  Their  place  of  rest,  and  Ptoyldence  their  guide : 
**  Thej  hand  in  hand  with  wand'ring  atepa  and  alow, 
<•  Thro'  Eden  took  their  aolitary  way."*  Par,  Xatf .  xiL  646. 

Fotirthly,  A  sudden  abruption  from  a  atate  of  enjoymtnt  t 

**  Now  warm  in  love,  now  withering  in  my  Uoom» 
**  Lost  in  a  convent's  solitary  gloom ! 
**  There  stem  religion  quench'd  th'  unwilling  flame, 
**  Then  died  tboae  best  of  paasions,  love  and  fione.** 

POPB^s  Ekua,  SiS. 
Language  cannot  express  a  nobler  union  of  the  pathetic  and  sublime  than 
ia  contained  in  the  last  line. 
Fithly,  The  recollection  of  past  happiness  u  a  fine  source  of  the  pathetics 
,    or  happiness  that  might  have  been  attained,  but  for  some  intervening  cir* 
'^     cumstance  that  unexpectedly  precludes  it    On  this  axe  founded  some  of 
•ur  best  tragedies.    See  the  Orphan.    Also  the  ^air  Penitent,  Uft  Act, 
Sixthly,  Apparent  resignation  i 

^  Ob  grace  serene  !  Oh  virtue  heav'nly  fur  ! 

**  Divine  oblivion  of  low-thoughted  care !  Cu:. 

^  Enter  each  mild,  each  amicable  guest» 

**  Receive  and  wrap  me  in  eternal  rest  !**  JVaMO,  S9f  .    T. 

A  seventh  head  may  also  be  added,  inattention  to  self,  and  solicitude  for 
others.  -Thus,  Lear  to  Kent : 

^  Pr*ythee,  go  m  thyself;  sed^  thine  own  case 

**  Poor  naked  wretehes,  wheresoever  you  are^ 

**  That  bide  the  pelting  of  this  pitiless  storm, 

*'  How  shall  your  houseless  heads  and  unfed  sides, 

**  Your  loop'd  and  window'd  raggedness,  defend  you 

"  From  seaaons  such  aa  these  f**—  / 

And  the  addreaa  of  our  Savioui^-^  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for 

^  m^f  bttt  for  younelfte  and  your  children.**    8.  H. 


L»cT.  17.  OP  PASSIOK.  »SI 

which  arises  from  the  greatness  of  the  thoughts  and  im- 
agery, has  admiration  for  its  basis,  and  that  for  the  most 
part  connected  with  joy,  love,  hatred,  or  fear ;  and  this 
I  think  is  evident  from  the  instances  which  were  so  late- 
ly under  our  consideration. 

How  much  the  sacred  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  excels 
in  exciting  the  passions,^  and  in  directing  them  to  their 
noblest  end  and  aim ;  how  it  exercises  them  upon  their 
proper  objects ;  how  it  strikes  and  fires  the  admiration 
by  the  contem^dation  of  the    Divine  Majes^ ;    and, 
fiDTcing  the  a&ctions  of  love,  hope,  and  joy,  from  un- 
worthy and  terrestrial  objects,  elevates  them  to  the  pur- 
suit of  the  supreme  good :  How  it  also  stimulates  those 
of  grief,  hatred,  and  fear,  which  are  usually  employed 
upon  the  trifling  miseries  of  this  life  to  the  abhorrence 
of  the  supreme  evil,  is  a  subject,  which  at  present  want» 
no  illustration,  and  which,  though  not  unconnected  with 
sublimity  in  a  general  view,  would  be  improperly  in- 
troduced in  this  place.    For  we  are  not  at  present  treat- 
ing of  the  general  effects  of  sublimity  on  the  passions ; 
but  of  that  species  of  the  sublime  which  proceeds  from 
Tehement  emotions  of  the  mind,  and  from  the  imitation 
or  rejuresentation  of  passion. 

•  The  pathetic  is  so  much  the  preraillng^»  or  distinguishing^  quality  of 
aie  Hebrew  writings,  that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  ascribe  much  of  that  supe- 
fiority,  which  the  modems  claim  in  this  respect  over  the  Greeks  and  Ro- 
mans, to  the  free  use  which  they  hare  made  of  scriptural  sentiments  and 
expressions.  The  reader  will  easily  be  able  to  satisfy  himself  on  this  subject 
ly  a  cursory  inspection  of  Milton»  Pope,  and  eren  some  of  our  l^t  traglcr 
writers.  Mr.  Kvoz  has  rery  judiciously  pointed  out  bow  g^reatly  Sterne 
has  been  indebted  to  them.  That  an  author,  indeed,  who  has  borrowed 
ftom  others  all  the  tolerable  thoughts  which  are  thinly  scattered  through 
his  writings»  should  resort  to- the  readiest,  and  most  copious  source  of  pa- 
thetic imagery,  is  not  sutprising^  It  is  only  to  be  lamented,  that  he  has 
not  made  the  best  use  of  his  plagiarisms  {  that  these  noble  sentiments  are 
so  strangely  disfigured  by  the  insipid  frivolity  of  his  style  :  a  style  which* 
no  classical  ear  can  possibly  endure,  and  which  must  be  conlened  toderive 
its  principal  embellishments  from  what  are  called  the  typQgvapfdcal  fig^ 


9»  THE  SUBLIME  Lsct.  it. 

Here  indeed  a  spacious  field  present$  itself  to  our 
view :  for  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  sacred  poetry  is 
little  else  than  a  continued  imitation  of  the  different  pas<- 
sions.  What  in  reality  forms  the  substance  and  subject 
of  most  of  these  poems  but  the  passion  of  admiration, 
excited  by  the  consideration  of  the  Divine  power  and 
majesty  ;  the  passion  of  joy,  from  the  sense  of  the  Di- 
vine favour,  and  the  prosperous  issue  of  events  i  the 
passion  of  resentment  and  indignation  against  the  con* 
temners  of  God ;  of  grief,  from  the  consciousness  of 
sin ;  and  terror,  from  the  apprehension  of  the  Divine 
judgement  ?  Of  all  these,  and  if  there  be  any  emotions 
of  the  mind  beyond  these,  exquisite  examples  may  be 
found  in  the  book  of  Job,  in  the  Psalms,  in  the  Canti- 
cles, and  in  every  part  of  the  prophetic  writings.  On 
this  account  my  principal  difficulty  will  not  be  the  se- 
lection of  excellent  and  proper  instances,  but  the  ex- 
plaining of  those  which  spontaneously  occur  without  a 
considerable  diminution  of  their  intrinsic  sublimity. 

Admiration,  as  it  is  ever  the  concomitant,  so  it  is 
frequently  the  efficient  cause  of  sublimity.  It  produces 
great  and  magnificent  conceptions  and  sentiments,  and 
expresses  them  in  language  bold  and  elevated,  in  sen- 
tences concise,  abrupt,  and  energetic» 

<<  Jehovah  reigneth  ;  let  the  people  tremble  ; 

<<  He  sitteth  upoa  the  cherubim  ;  let  the  earth  be  moved."' 

«  The  voice  of  Jbhovab  is  upon  the  waten  t 

•*  The  God  of  glory  thunders : 

<<  Jehovah  is  upon  the  many  waters. 

**  The  voic«  of  Jehovah  is  full  of  power ; 

«  The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  full  of  majesty.*** 
«  Who  is  like  unto  thee  among  the  gods,  O  Jehovah  ! 
«<  Who  is  like  unto  thee,  adorable  in  holiness  ! 
<«  Fearful  in  praisea,  who  workest  wonders ! 
«  Thou  extendest  thy  right  hand ;  the  earth  swalloweth  them."* 

f  PsAL.  xcix.  1.  t  PsAL.  xxix.  3, 4.  •  Exo».  XV.  11,  12. 


L*CT.  \7.  OP  PASSION.  2SS 

Joy  is  more  devated,  and  exciltd  in  a  bolder  strain. 
It  produces  g;r6at  sentiments  and  conceptions ;  seizes 
upon  the  rirost  splendid  imagery,  and  adorns  it  with  the 
most  animated  language ;  nor  does  it  hesitate  to  risk  the 
most  daring  and  unusual  figures.  In  the  S<^g  of  Moses, 
in  tte  Thanksgiving  of  Deborah  and  Barak,  what  sub* 
limity  do  We  find,  in  sentiment,  in  language,  in  die 
general  turn  of  the  expression !  But  nothing  can  excel 
in  this  respect  that  noble  exultation  of  dniversal  nature 
in  the  Psalm  which  has  been  so  often  commended, 
where  the  whole  animated  and  inanimate  creation  unite 
in  the  praises  of  their  Maker.  Poetry  here  seems  to 
assume  the  highest  tone  of  triump>h  and  exultation,  and 
to  revel,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  in  all  the  extrava- 
gance of joy  : 

Tell  in  high^  harmonious  strains. 

Tell  the  worlds  Jehovah  reigns  I  ' 

He,  who  fram'd  this  beauteous  whole» 

He,  who  fix'd  each  planet's  place ; 

Who  bade  unnunaber'd  orbs  to  roll, 

In  destin'd  course,  through  endless  space- 

Let  the  glorious  heavens  rejoice. 

The  hills  exult  wiih  grateful  voice ; 

Let  ocean  tell  the  echoing  shore. 

And  the  hoarse  waves  with  humble  voice  adore  1 

Let  the  verdant  plains  be  glad  ! 

The  trees  in  blooming  fragrance  clad !  ' 

Smile  with  joy,  ye  desert  lands. 

And  rushing  torrents,  clap  your  bands  t 

Let  the  whole  earth  with  triumph  ring. ! 

Let  all  that  live  with  loud  applause 

Jkhovah's  matchless  praises  sing-— ^ 

He  comes  I  He  comes  !  Heaven's  righteous  King  1     ,  . 

To  judge  the  world  by  Truth's  eternal  laws.^* 

w  PsAUff.  xcvi.  10—13.  and  xcviii.  7—9. 

30 


n^  TW  SUBLIME  LBCT.ir, 

«ent  thaR  the  representation  of  anger  and  indignatioat 
pmkubrly  when  the  divine  wrstth  is  dispk^ed*  Of  thii 
the  whole  of  the  {prophetic  song  of  Moses  affords  an  iik 
comparable  speciinea  {  have  formerlgr  produced  firooi 
k  some  instances  of  a  di&rent  kkid ;  nor  ought  the  £4- 
lowing  to  be  deuied.a  place  in  th<;&e  Lectures. 

tf  For  I  wiH  lift  mf  hand  unto  the  beavtii% 

**  And  I  will  tsy»  I  live  for  ever ; 

*«  If  I  whet  the  brigbtneas  of  my  sword» 

*<  Aad  Bkf  hand  lay  bold  od  judgement ; 

^  t  wiU  fetam  Tengeance  to  my  enemie8« 

«<  And  i  will  recompense  thoao  that  bate  me  i 

<'  I  wU  dreacb  ray  arrows  ta  blood» 

^  And  nqp  aw«>rd  shall  devoiir  flesh  ; 

^  With  the  blood  o£  the  slain  and  the  captivesr 

«<  From  the  busby  bead  of  the  enemy."'  ^ 

Nor  is  Isaiah  less  daring  «o  a  similar  subject  r 

^  For  the  day  of  vengeance  was  in  my  heart» 

««  And  the  year  of  my  redeemed  waa  come. 

M  AikI  I  looked  and  there  was  no  one  to  help ; 

'*  And  I  was  astonished,  that  there  was  no  one  to  uphold  t 

<<  Therefore  mine  own  arm  wrought  salvation  for  me» 

^  And  mine  indignation  itself  sustained  me» 

M  And  I  trod  down  the  peoples  in  mine  anger  ^ 

*^  And  I  crushed  them  in  mine  indignation ; 

««  And  I  spilled  their  Hfe-blood  on  the  ground."**^ 

The  dbplay  of  the  fury  and  threats  of  die  enemy,  by 
which  Moses  finely  exaggerates  the  horror  of  their  un- 
expected ruin»  is  also  wanderfuUy  subUme : 

*•  The  enemy  said»  I  will  pursue»  I  will  ovcnake  ; 
^  I  will  divide  the  spoil»  my  soul  shall  be  satiated ; 
^  I  will  draw  my  sword»  my  hand  shall  destroy  th^m  t 
u  Thou  didst  bloa-  wkh  thy  breath ;  they  were  covered  with  the 
sea."" 

21  DaoT.  zzxiL  40—43. 

IS  IsAi.  IziiL  4— 6L    See  a  note  on  this  pasiage.  Lecture  xxs. 

ts  Bxov.  XT.  9,  10. 


Ltect.  17.  OF  PASSION.  f» 

Otkf  h  gmenStf  lAJect  and  humble,  Urn  apt  to  u. 
shnilate  with  die  sublime ;  but  when  it  beeomes  excess 
sive,  and  predominates  in  die  mind,  it  rises  to  a  bidder 
tone,  and  becomes  heated  to  fuiy  and  madness.  We 
have  a  fine  example  of  this  ftdm  die  hand  of  Jeremiah, 
when  he  exaggerates  the  miseries  of  Sion : 

«  He  hitb  bent  bis  bow  m  an  enemy,  be  bstb  fise4  bi»  right  )iaad 

<«  as  an  adveraary ; 
^  He  hatb  poured  out  bis  aager  like  Sr^onibeten^of  Ihedfugb- 

««tcrofSion."** 

But  nodiing  of  this  kind  can  eqttal  the  grief  of  lob,  which 

is  acute,  vehement,  fervid ;  always  in  the  deepest  aiBic- 

lions  breathing  an  animated  and  lofty  strain ; 

fcr  in  tbe  contcUma  boiom  flame 
Vinw)  «ad  grief,  aad  lottt-depteaaiiig  tobaane. 

«  His  fuiy  rendetb  me,  be  tearetb  me  to  pieces ; 

^  He  gnasbetb  on  me  witb  bis  teeiby 

«  Mme  enemy  ^larpenetb  bis  eyes  upon  me. 

«  Tbey  ma  wiUi  open  moutb  upon  n^ 

^  Tfaty  aautc  ase  reproaebfolly  on  tbe  ebeek, 

«  Tbey  are  ready  to  burst  witb  fury  against  me. 

a  God  batb  delivered  me  oyer  bound  to  tbe  wicked ; 

tt  Yea,  he  bath  tumbled  me  lieadlong  in  perdition  at  tbe  diacretioa 
^of  tbe  impieufi. 

^  I  was  in  tranqniUity,  and  be  rent  roe  asunder ; 

M  Yea,  be  seised  me  by  tbe  neck,  and  dasbed  me  in  pieces; 

«  He  batb  even  set  me  up  as  a  mark  for  bim. 

^  Hw  arcbera  encompassed  me  round, 

^  He  piercetb  tbrough  my  reuM  and  sparetb  not ; 

M  He  pouretb  ewt  my  gall  on  tbe  grdund. 

<*  He  breaketb  me  up  breacb  after  breacb ; 

^  He  rosbetb  upon  me  like  a  migbty  man.*' 

u  Lam.  ii.  4. 

w  Job  xvi.  9—14.  «« Ver.  10.  Jitmalaon,  «ccording  to  the  Skft.  ^«v/mIw 
^hnmUfafun:  K.  L.  B.  Gxmhoh,  They  are  jathered  father:  and  the 
■^  Arabic  verb  Maia  denotes  in  ri.  Conjugation,  They  aemted  me  amther^ 
**  emd  were  wiommeut»  (as  if  a  great  multitude  were  collected  t<>gether,) 
**  sod  it  is  construed  with  the  preposition  ^^nale,  as  in  this  passage.    See 


2^  THE  SUBLIME  I^^kct.  17. 

In  the  same  author,  Mwfh  «what  «nai^ecnoe  ao4  sufalim. 

i^  are>  sorrow  and  deapemtton  expressed ! 
Were  biit  my  woes  in  eqaal  balance  weigbedi 
Did  the  vast  masa  of  ousary  prcaa  the  scale 
Againat  the  sands,  that  skirt  the  ocean  ^roiind» 
*T  would  far  outweigh  them  ;  therefore  boils  my  grief! 
The  pointed  arrows  of  th*  otfcnded  God 
Fix'd  in  my  heart  rack  every  tender  nerve  ;         ' 
And  the  slow  poison  drinks  my  spirit  up  ; 
Wlule  hosts  of  terrors  blose  besiege  my  soul. 
O  might  thy  suppliant  urge  one  poor  Request ! 
\Thy  wmtlh  P  God  [^  should  loose  at  once  tby^aniif        .      '' 
'^Thy  ven|j;^ful  rarpi  vl^ich'  blasting  lightnbgs  wields) 
Dash  into  pieces  this  i/nbecile  frame» 
And  crush  thy  siilRenng  crieature  Into  iiothinjg;.^* 

"  also  IsAi.  xx«L,4#  quoted  in  hf9^  w.  wheiie  «IMa^.iamidered  a  mtdU' 
**  tude.  This  interpretation^  however^  though  sufficiently  confinne4  by  the 
**  preceding  instances,  is,  perhaps,  not  sufficiently  forcible  and  vehement  in 
"  this  place.  Ver.  11.  Jarateni,  fit  predpitated  me.  This  I  take  to  be  the 
"  true  sense  of  this  word,  M^ieh  ob^t  to  be  enumerated  aiQong  those  that 
*'  occur  but  once :  for  the  other  place  in  whieh  it  is  eoounot^  lead,  N«xr. 
*<  xxii.  32.  is  certainly  car«upted,<gnd  should  be^eorveBtedfram  tibe  &ueab. 
**  which  has,  beeauae  <%  w^y  i>  cvU.before  me  §  with  which  the  ^nsweT'Of 
*'  Balaam  perfectly  agrees,  ver.  34.  J/  it  be  evil  in  thy  right.  Nor  is  t|ia 
"  construction  clear  m  this  phrase  Jarat  He-darachecha^  unless  we  ag^ 
***  that^the  true  reading  Is  Jaratahi  t^c.  Not:  to  dwell  upon  this,  however, 
"  tlic  interpretation  of  the  word  Jarateni  appears  perfectly  just,  iJTwe  cop- 
"  sider  that  the  Arabit  verb  Verai  uniformly  means,  he  pvedpitaied  himwetf 
**  into  an  qfair  wkencn  he  cmiid  mt  extrio^teMMu^f^  H.  Amthm^e  ,N^te. 
10  Job  vi.  2,  3,  4,  8,  9.  This  pssssge  is  th«s  given  by  Ifr.  Seott  with  a 
little  alteration  : 

**  O  for  a  balance  pois*d  with  equal  hand  ! 

**  Lay  all  my  sorrow's  there  'gainst  ocean's  sand  : 

"  Light  is  the  san4  ^hereon  the  billows  roll 

"  When  weigh'd.with  all  the  sorrows  of  my  soul. 

"  Ah !  therefore,  tlierefore  doe»  my  boiling  woe 

"  In  such  a  torrent  of  wild  words  overflow. 

«  Rankling  I  feel  th'  Almighty's  yenom'd  dart, 

*'  His  arrows  fire  my  veins  and  rend  my  heart : 

"  His  terrors  'gainst  me  throng  in  dire  array, 

••  War  urging  war,  his  boundless  wrath  display. 

"  O  that  relenting  at  my  earnest  cry, 

f  God  would  extend  his  thund'ring  arm  on  high  ; 


LsoT- 17.  OP  PAKION.  %» 

The  idiofe  poem  of  Job  is  no  less  exedknt  in  the 
expression  and  excitation  of  terror,  as  the  Example  just 
now  quoted  sufficiently  demonstrates.  To  this  com* 
mendation,  hqwever,  the  prophetic  writings  seem  to 
have  the  faire$t  claim  ;  it  being  indeed  their  peculiar 
province  to  denounce  the  Divine  judgements  upon  guilty 
nations.  Almost  the  whole  book  of  Ezekiel  is  occupied 
with  this  passion  :  Isaiah  is  also  excellent  in  this  respecti 
although  he  be  in  general  the  harbinger  of  joy  and  sal- 
vation. The  following  terrific  denunciation,  is  directed 
by  him  against  the  enemies  of  Jerusalem  : 

^  Howl  ye,  for  the  day  of  Jxhotah  b  at  hand : 

«<  As  a  destmcfion  from  the  Almighty  shall  it  come. 

^  Therefore  shall  all  hands  be  slackened  ; 

<«  And  the  heatt  of  every  mortal  «haIJi  melt  j  and  they  shall  be  teri 

*<  rified : 
<<  Torments  and  pangs  shall  sqiae  them  i 
«<  As  a  woman  in  travaiU  they  shall  l^e  pained  a 
<<  They  shall  look  upon  one  another  with  astonishment  ^ 
<<  Their  countenancea  ahaU  be  Uke  flasoe^  pf  fire. 
<<  Behold  the  day  of  Jbhov.ah  coaie;th.in«xorahie ; 
<»  Even  indignation»  and  burning  wrath : 
^  To  make  the  land  a  desolation  ; 
«  And  her  sinners  shall  he  destrqy  from  oqt  of  her. 
**  Yea,  the  stars  of  heaven,  and  the  constellations  thereofji 
M  Shall  not  send  forth  their  light : 
^  The  wan  is.darkeoed  at  hta  goinf  forth» 
*^  And  the  ni(lon  4bsll  not  cause  her  Hgtit  to  shine. 
¥  And  I  wUl  visit  the  world  for  its  ^yil»^7 
*<  And  the  wicked  for  their  iniquity  : 
^  And  I  win  pot  to  end  to  the  arrogance  of  the  proud : 
*<  And  I  will  bring  down  the  haughtiness  of  the  terrible. - 

'*  Butkless  at  once  his  smonldVing  trident  throw, 
«^  And  forcing  thro'  his  mark  the  vengeful  blow 
*•  At  once  destroy  me." 

17  Ivda  vintf  &c.]  That  is,  the  Babylonish  empire  :  as  all  the  wor/iffo^ 
the  Roman  empire,  or  for  Judea :  Lujib  ii.  1.  Acts  si.  SS.  Bi9fi9p 
^iOWTu's  jBoiah, 


S$8  THE  SUBUME,  kc.  LseT.  in 

^  I  wiB  mike  a  movcal  more  pneoknii  dan  insipU ; 
<<  Ye%  a  mam  than  the  tiek  9i«  of  Opbtr. 
^  Wherefore  I  will  make  the  beaYeps  tremble ; 
«  And  the  earth  shatl  be  shaken  out  of  her  place  s 
^  In  the  indignation  of  Jebovah  God  of  hosts.**** 

Jeremiah  is  scarcely  inferior,  though  perhaps  his  talents 
are  better  suited  in  common  to  the  exciting  of  the  softer^ 
affections.  As  an  example,  I  need  only  refer  to  that 
remarkable  vision,  in  which  the  impending  slaughter 
and  destruction  of  Judea  b  exhibited  with  wonderful 
force  and  enthusuasm : 

M  My  bowels,  my  bowels  are  pained,  the  walls  of  my  heart ; 

*«  My  heart  b  troubled  within  me  ;  I  cannot  be  uleat  i 

^  Because  I  have  heard  the  sound  of  the  tnimpeC, 

<«  My  soul  the  alarm  of  war. 

»  Destrvetk»  i» come  upon  the  beela  of  deMroctiMii 

<<  Surely  the  whole  land  is  spoiled : 

^  On  a  sudden  have  my  tents  been  spoiled, 

^  My  curtains  in  an  instant. 

M  How  long  shall  I  see  the  standard  t 

<<  Shall  I  hear  the  «ooad  of  4he  trumpet  l^ 

«<  I  beheld  the  earth,  and  lo !  4iaonler  and  conteion ; 

«<  The  heavens  also,  and  ihere  was  no  light*''» 

It  would  be  an  infinite  task  to  collect  and  specify  all  the 
passages  that  might  be  found  illustrative  of  this  subject : 
and  probably  we  shall  have  more  than  one  opportunity 
of  discoursing  upon  these  |qd  similar  topics,  when  we 
come  to  consider  the  diflbrent  species  of  the  Hebrew 
poetry :  upon  which,  after  requesting  your  candour  and 
indulgence  to  so  arduous  an  undertaking,  it  is  my  in- 
tention  to  enter  at  our  next  meeting. 

u  isAi.  aiiL  6-13.  <»  Jaa.  IT.  Ul^  to. 


Tqp  THIRD  PART. 

oir  TBB  nvraBBNT  BmcBs»  i»  postkt  extakt  in  vm 

WRITINGS  OF  THE  HEBREWS. 
OF  PROPHETIC  POETRY. 

LECTURE  XVIII. 

THE  WRITINGS  OF   THE   PROPHETS  ARE  IN   GENERAL 
POETICAL. 

The  poetjy  of  the  Hebrevs  cUssed  according  to  its  different  characters  f 
this  mode  of  arrangement  results  rather  from  the  nature  of  the  subject, 
than  ham  any  «uthorilj  of  the  Hcbtionn  theOMalvtt-^The  PBoni>Ti« 
F»snT-*The  writings  of  the  piopheU.m  gesenU  poetkal  and  metrioal 
•^Tht  opinion  of  the  modem  Jews  and  of  Jerome  on  this  point  refuted— 
ift  ^he  books  of  the  prophets  the  same  evidences  are  found  of  a  metrical 
■mngeilMnt  as  in  the  poetical  books  :  in  the  dialect»  the  style,  and  po- 
etical confonxMition  of  th«  sentences— Obvious  in  respect  to  the  two  for- 
mer circumstances  ;  the  latter  requires  a  more  minute  inrestigation,  and 
«Iso  illnsmtion  hy  ezaaiples-^The  inUaiate  rebtkm  betw«een  Poetry  and 
Ptopbaoy— ThccoHefeofAvphfttsi  >  partof  whose  diaclpline  it  was  to 
■ing  Hymns  to  the  diiferenli  instnuaents  :  and  this  eiencise  was  called 
prophecy :  the  same  word,  therefore,  denotes  a  prophet,  a  poet,  and  a 
iMisician— Elisha,  when  fthont  to  pronounce  the  Oracle  of  God,  others  n 
mmtrel  to  be  brought  to  hii»— Poetry  excellently  sdapted  to  the  puN 
pose  of  prophecy— A  review  of  the  most  ancient  predictions  extant  in  the 
historical  books,  which  are  proved  to  be  truly  poetical. 

Of  the  genera!  nature  and  properties  of  the  Hebrew 
poetry  I  have  already  treated  :  diffusely  enough,  if  the 
extent  of  the  disquisitions  be  considered ;  but  too  briefly, 
I  fear,  and  too  imperfectly,  if  respect  be  had  to  the  copi* 
ousness  and  importance  of  the  subject.  My  original 
design»  however,  extended  no  farther  than  to  notice  the 
most  remarkable  passages,  and  such  as  I  conceived  to 
be  immediately  illustrative  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  He- 
brew style.    Even  these  it  was  my  wish  and  intention 


340  PROPHETIC  POETllT.  L«ct.  U. 

rather  to  point  out  and  recommend  to  yoqr.own'condd«> 
eration,  than  minutely  to  in  vest^tc  and  expbia,  esteem^ 
ing  it  my  province  rather  to  exhorMHO^aiimukte  to  these 
studies,  than  to  intrude  upon  this  auSbifceafbrraalplaii 
6f  instruction.    It  Wbuld'be  «iperfludus,  I  imi4)ersfiad^« 
ed,  to  remind  you,  that  the  importance  of  the  subject  b 
not  to  be  estimated  by  the  feebleness  of  my  endesvouis;^ 
and,  I  trust,  it  would  be  still  more  unnecessary  to  cau- 
tion you  agsnrist  a  hasty  aequiesence  in  any  interpreta- 
tion of  those  passages,  which  I  have  quoted,  mudi  less 
in  my  own  :  though  I  will  fnnkly  confess^  that  I  have 
bestowed  no  small  degree  of  labour  and  attention  upon 
this  part  of  my  undertaking.     What  remains  at  present,* 
is  to  distribute  into  it&  dtfierent  clasBcsthe  whofeoMie 
Hfebrew  poetry,  and  to  mark  whatever  is  worthy  of  ob-» 
servation  in  each  species.    In  forming  this  arr^gement 
it  will  hardly  be  expected  that  I  should  uniformly  pro- 
ceed according  to  the  testimony  of  the  Hebrews,  or  on 
all  occasions  confirm  the  propriety  of  my  classification 
by  their  authority ;   since  it  is  plain  that  they  were  but 
little  versed  in  these  nice  and  artificial  distinctions.    It 
will  be  sufficient  for  our  purpose ;  that  is,  it'will  be  asf- 
ficient  for  the  accurate  explanation  of  the  diflferent  chaiw 
acters  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  if  I  demonstrate  that  these 
characters  are  stamped  by  the  hand  of  nature,  and  that 
they 'arc  displayed  either  in  the  subject  itself,  the  dispo- 
sition of  its  constituent  parts,  the  diversity  of  style,  or 
in  the  general  form  and  arrangement  of  the  poem.    .  .  <. 
The  first  rank  I  assign  to  the  PaoPHETic,  or  that 
species  of  poetry  which  is  found  to  pervade  the  predic- 
tions of  the  prophets,  as  well  those  contained  in -the 
books  properly  called  prophetical,  as  those  which  occa^ 
sionally  occur  in  other  parts  of  the  Scriptures.     These» 
I  ^prehend»  will  be  generally  allowed  to  be  written  in  a 


I»BCT.  ta  BBDPRBTIC  POBT&T.  t4l 

style  trttfy  pocticalt  Mefdadminhfe  in  its khid  asthtf 
nany  exsmpksv  iriii^h  «e  have  tbtsdiy  pradooed,  wiH 
suAoiendy  demoostrate.  I  bat^  hoiKevcr,  it  wiB  not  hs 
80  iwiSty  l^sntod  thai  their  ckiro  ia  equsUy  wril<>fo^ 
wMi  that  sft^  books,  wMdi  are  ooraononlj  cdisd  poet^ 
seal,  to  the  other  pharaeteriadc  of  poetry»  I  mean  vens^ 
or  metriqal  ctuiipgaition.  This  kt^  b  denied  by  tbe 
Jews  ;^  and  b  demed  by  Jerome,*  who  waft  a.dttigent 
mduAar  of  the  Sabbinieal  wri|»fs :  afipr  dieae,  it  is  on» 
aeeesaaiy  to  refer  to  more  recent  authors,  who  pardy 
deny  that  die  Hebrews  were  possessed  of  any  asetre  at 
aU»  and  pardy  allow  it  to  those  compoudons  only,  which 
eommonly  called  poetical,  or  at  most  extend  thecon- 
to  a  few  eanddes  scsMeicd  through  other  parts 
of  the  Scriptores.  A  thinking  person,  however,  wiH 
not  be  oiisled  by  such  attthorities  as  Aese,  befoitr  he 
examines  whether  they  are  to  be  accouiyed  competent 
judges  in  thb  case,  ahd  what  weight  and  credit  b  due 
to  their  testimony. 

The  Jews,  by  their  own  confession,  are  no  longer,  nor 
have  been  indeed  for  many  ages,  masters  of  the  system 
of  the  ancient  metre.  AH  remembrance  of  it  has  ceased 
fixim  those  times  in  which  the  Hebrew  became  a  dead 

2  ABAmBAVKL  diitingubhes  three  specks  of  canticles.  The  first  is  the 
r^Sfikimatl,  or  that  with  similar  endings  ;  in  use  among  the  more  modem 
lUbrews  (who  learned  it  from  the  Arabic  writers)  but  which  was  certainly 
unknown  to  the  authors  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  The  second  was  adapted 
to  music,  and  sung  either  alone  or  accompanied  with  instruments,  such  are 
the  songs  of  Moses,  of  Deborah»  of  David.  The  third  species  consists  of 
psrableSy  or  proverbs,  which  species,  says  he,  (though  by  the  way  absurdly 
enough,  as  is  not  uncommon  with  the  Rabbinical  writers)  is  properly  de- 
nominated Shir.  From  tliis  class,  however,  he  excludes  the  parables  of  the 
prophets,  aoooeding  to  the  distinction  of  Maimonides  between  prophecy  and 
the  Holy  Spirit.  (See  Mitre  Mboc.  iL  45.)  He  says  they  are  not  canticles, 
because  they  are  not  the  work  of  the  prophet  himself,  but  the  mere  effect 
of  the  prophetic  inspiration.     Mantina  JDittert.  ad  LiAr,  Cosai,  page  411. 

AnthorU  J^te. 

>  See  Jcaoan,  preface  to  Tsaiam. 

31 


%n  PROPHETIC  POETRT.  Lbct.  til 

kngnagfi  */  and  it  really  seems  probeUe,  that  the  Maao^ 
rites  fof  whom  so  little  is  known)  who  afterwards  dis* 
tkigoished  the  sacred  volumes  bf  acoents  and  vowel 
pointSt  as  they  vre  now  extant,  were  possessed  of  so  tri- 
fling and  hnperfectaknowledgeof  this8ufa|ect,  that  they 
were  even  incapable  of  distinguishing  n^iat  was  writieft 
in  metre  from  plainrprose.  For  when,  according  to  their 
manner,  they  mark^  certain  books  as  metrical,  namely, 
the  Psalms,  the  Froverbs^  and  the  book  of  Job ;  they 
accounted  others,  whickare  no  less  evidenify  metricaH 
abaoltttrly  prosaic,  suehas  the  Song  of  Solomon^  and  the 
Lamentations  of  Jeremiah^  andoonsequendy  assigned  to 
them  the  common  prose  accent  only.  In  this  opiniba 
the  Jews  miiversally  remain,  and  deny  that  these  bot^ 
ere  at  all  metrical,  or  to^  be  chssed  with  the  three  for- 
mer/' Now  the  disciple  is-hardly  to  be  supposed  to  have 

3  «  It  cannol  be  doubted  that  the  canticles  of  tlie.  second  species  were 
'^  possessed  of  s  eevtadn  iCielody  or  Aetfe,  wbieh  tfatougk  t&e  Icngtk  of  tb» 
**  ca|itivity  is  become  obsolete.'*    Asabbavbl,  ib.  410. 

4  The  Song'  of  Solomon  is  indeed  allowed  by  the  Jews  to  be  a'poem  f  not 
however  from  the  nature  of  the  composition,  or  from  its  being  metrical», 
but  merely  because  it  is  of  the  parabolic  kind :  and  therefore  it  is  rofened 
by  Ababbavu  to  the  tbifd  species  of  Cdaticle.  Whenee  it  hiypcnB  that, 
though  in  some  MSS.  copies  tlie  three  metrical  books  are  written  in  a  vcr* 
s'lfied  form,  the  Lamentations  and  Song  of  Songs  are  difiefentTy  transct'lbe^l 
This  I  have  obserred  to  be  the  case  with  the  VaUcan  MSS.  which  is  desenr- 
edly  accounted  one  of  the  most  ancient,  its  date  being  the  year  occccilzxxx 
of  our  Christian  aera.  The  same  is  observable  in  many  other  MS$. 
as  T  have  been  informed  by  my  learned  friend.  Dr.  Keitkicot,  whose  Ha- 
BRiLW  BiBLX  wiTB  THK  VABious  BBA.DIRM  is  HOW  in  the  prcss,  and  already 
In  great  forwardness.  Indeed,  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  that  when  the  Jews 
exMbit  certain  C^inticles,  and  even  whole  books  in  a  poetical  or  versified 
order,  tliey  followed,  or  pretended  to  follow  the  true  nature  of  the  Hebrew 
verse,  or  the  proper  distribution  of  the  lines.  But  the  great  disagreement 
between  them  in  this  respect  is  a  proof  of  their  Ignorance,  for  they  seldom 
agree  with  one  another  in  the  termination  of  the  lines,  or  fblfow  any  deter- 
minate rule  in  this  matter.  The  distribution  of  the  verses  is-  different  ia 
diii'erent  copies,  as  may  be  Immediately  observed  on  comparing  thenL  In 
Uie  Song  of  Moses,  Dbut.  xxxii.  in  which  the  different  editions  agree  bet« 
teiL  tliaii  in  any  Qthw  (fad  indeed  theiv.  was  but  little  room  fw  disagpee- 


ta«T.  1«.  «lOiaETiC  RBBTHir.  MS 

«iDmii^ormalifm^nliiaaMurters;  and  akhough  Jerome 
upeaks  very  flucDtijr  «bout  the  Tetrameters»  the  Hexal*- 
araeters,  fbe  Sapphi»»»  and  Iambics  of  the  Hebrews,  tbe 
.very  state  and  ourcumflCances  of  the  caae  demonatnue 
ihow  Uttle  credit  is  due  to  his  4Mitfaoiaty«  Indeed  his 
.xeaacMung  evidently  proceeds  from  a  oonfused  head, 
when  he  atten^its  to  trace  a  sort  4if  remote  suni|aril|r 
lielween  the  Gieek  ami  iiebaew  metres ;  andtoexplaia 
fay  some  coarse  analogies  a  subject,  which  be  appears  ta 
huft  very  in^i&ctiiy  understood :  in  treating  of  whiob» 
after  all,  he  is  Aot  able  to  freaerve  even  the  appearanoe 
.of  coosistenc}*:;  For  ansianoe,  after  Josephus  and  Ok;!- 
ipen,  hccontesKls,'  that  tbe  Song  of  Moses  in  Deutemi^ 
OQiy  is  compos^  in  Hescameter  and  Pentameter  veraei 
in  another  pAiGp,  however,  be  afiirms  ttait  iho  very  saoir 
fOfm  cons^  of  Iambic  Tetrameters.*  In  proof  of  hM 
.cfMnion  he  appeab  to  thie  testimony  of  Philo,  Josephus^ 
Origeo,  and  Euseibius,'  who  were  no  less  ignorant  of  the 
ju^ure  of.  the  Hebrew  metnes  than  himaeUl    Notwsilb- 

nent,  the  sense  always  pointings  oat  of  Itself  the  order  of  the  sentences)  in 
this»  notwithstioiduig,  the  Babbies  hare  oontriri^  to^cUier»  sftne  of  theai 
dividing  it  into  67»  and  some  into  70  verses  or  ^nes.  See  jinnoL  a4  Bib. 
ffeb.  Edit.  Micbaxlis,  HaUt  1T20.  Among*  the  MSS.  copies  of  the  metricd 
iMMika  the  disagreement  is  e<|aally  manifest,  as  die  jJbov«  excellent  critic 
proved  upon  a  Ytry  atrict  examination»  anderta);eii  at  my /«quest.  In  a  ve- 
ry famous  MSS.  which  I  saw  in  the  royal  library  at  presden^  I  remarked  a 
circumstance  that  clearly  demonstrates  tlie  perfect  ignorance  and  absurdity 
of  tibe  Jews  ia  this  fespeet.  TheChaldee  paraphrase  wss  intermii^^  wiHi 
the  text  throHgheut,  in  such  a  manner»  that  we  first  read  the  Hebrew»  and 
then  the  Chaldee»  verse  by  verse  alternately :  in  the  metrical  books»  which 
were  divided  into  lines  or  verses,  ihe  text  and  version  were  so  oonfounded, 
that  the.  Writer  attending  qa^  to  the  eq^wlity  of  his  UneSf  pen>etwatly  blctndr 
ed  the  Hebrew  and  Chaldee  together  in  such  a  manner^  that  where  the  one 
ended  the  other  was  resumed»  and  every  line  partook  of  both.  This  is  a 
Very  elegant  copy»  and  probably  five  hundred  years  old.  The  ponctuatioa 
b  evidcintiy  of  a  more  oeoont  date;  as  in  that  of  the  Vatican  abovementioiir 
ed»  and  in  some  other  copies  still  older.    Auihai't  «Vote. 

'  Preface  to  Chron. 

#  Kpist  civ.  ad  Pftolam  Urbicam.       '  See  Jw^m^  prefiifie  to  M>. 


M4  MICMfETIC  HUKIMI.  Ijmt;  Ift. 

Mifidfngtfaeoi^fiim  liieratee  <if  Jttwne  and  Ife  ibb- 
Mnical  writers,  I  «haU  beg  kafve  W  «finr  m  few  resMlDs 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  q^iestiett^  wfbdt  wUch  k'wia 
not  perhaps  be  thought  ohogedMrimprobaible,  tint  most 
erf*  the  pvedktkntt  trf  liie  )praphettt,«s  wlA  ^^ 
of  the  «emaiiis  of  Hebrew  JiienMire»  wcmtongnsttf  fudn^ 
Ushtd  in  a  metrical'  foftm. 

In  order  to  pwwte  iJMit  the  prediOtiti»rfthe  proyhofci 
(rire  mMric«l>  I  must  in  part  ha^ve  iMMme  lo^  same 
'Magtunenait  bjr  i^hieh  I  foinierly  endoaveurod  ttevincte 
:ahit  the  Hebitw  poetry  mgeattml  «r^olisifeiedolrajuiritf 
«fetre :  ewry ^on^ ef  whidiaif^iitnenls,  I  moat-obaerte» 
4is  wietty  ^fplicable  to  this  pairt  of  my  sti^ect»  1^ 
eawepMid  whieh^regwiis  the  alphlibetio  poems.    Thm  it 
^aMontdbe mmataival mid absurdtolook  ftr  instansesioif 
4h&t4ciitd  hi^the  prophet  poetry  iB^evideM^  sinoemMrii 
M^ttNiAdial  *ra)ngen|ent  wodldbo'tinmty  iqNigmmtio 
«hfeteture^  prophecy;  it  is  (dainly  the  efibot  of  study 
diif^'AiKgenee,  ntit  of  imagbaftion  end  enthusiasm ;  4 
«contrivance  to  assist  the  memory,  not  to  aflfect  the  pas- 
mons«    The  other  arguments,  however,  ought  to  be  par* 
ticutarly  adverted  to  upon  this  subject :  the  poetic  dia- 
lect for  instance,  the  diction  so  totally  different  from  the 
iangtage  of  common  life,  and  other  similar  circumsimii 
ces»^  which  an  attentive  reader  will  easily  discover,  but 
wbich  eamiot  be  explained  1^  a  few  examples ;  fiir  ck^ 
ctnnstarices  i^ich,  taken  separately,  appear  but  of  small 
account,  are  in  a  united  view  frequmtly  of  the  greatest 
«iportanGe.    To  ^ese  we  mi^  add  the  artificialoonfer* 
miition  of  (be  sentences ;   which,  as  it  has  always  ap- 
peared to  me  a  necessary  concomitant  of  metricai  com- 
position, the  only  one  indeed  which  is  now  apparent,  i 
shall  afterwards  endeavour  to  explain  more  at  large,  hav-^ 

t  See  JUect.  in. 


Lka  It.  VMSHBETIC  mKTW.  Ms 

VBigetfmadnfguAtoiiicf^  Iniustiiofr 

pimiMe  a  fbw  odxr  «q^meotB,  whidi  miU  prabaUy  lead 
to  die  estaUishneiit  of  nijr  opinioii. 

Tke  pMfkutM  i)i«e  clioiett  by  God  himsaUv  and  wei« 
cBdtaMlf  exodteodjr  p»fNu*6d  Ibr  die  cMeiikkm  of  tkeir 
office.  They  «ere  m  ^ettenl  taken  firmt  dMse^  who 
had  been  eduoaled  fmm  childbocxi  in  a  oourae  of  c&- ' 
cipline  adapHed  ta  the  «Muaterial  fiinction.  It  is  evident 
firom  mmy  parts  of  the  sacred  hhtory,  that  ei^en  from 
tfaeeatiiesttinas^^the  Mel^now  npubtic»  tbeieenisted 
oartainx^oUegcs  of  prophctSi  in  wbieh  the  candidates  Sat 
the  pnqpfadae  office»  removfd  altogocber  from  an  Inter- 
cmirs*  nith  the  world,  deviaced  diemselves  entimljr  im 
this  exerciBrs  and  atisdy.of  religioo :  over  eaoh  of  these 
some  prophet  of  ;Hipenor  attthoiiqr,  and  move  peculiarly 
noder  the  divine  inftneneet  presided,  as  the  moderator 
and  preoepdur  of  the  whdb  assembly,  llioagb  the 
aacMd  history  sAbrds  as  but  little  information,  and  (hat 
in  a  cmaoly  manner,  coQoeniing  their  iratkntes  and  dis- 
cil^oe ;  we  «evertfadess  understand  that  a  principal 
part  of  iheir  bccupation  consisted  in  celebrating  the 
pnises^f  Afahighlgr  Ood  in  hymns  and  poetry,  ivith 
oharal  dmta  accompanied  by  singed  inslnMients  and 
pipes»  There  is  a  remarkable  passage'  which  occurs 
to  tfais|Hiffposei:  Saul  being  nominated  king,  and,  pur- 
suant to  th^  conmiand  of  God,  consecrated  by  aaolemn 
iinetion,  a  company  of  the  prophets,  as  Samuel  had 
ioretold,  desocadiog  from  the  moantof  God  {that  being 
dK  place  in  which  the  sacred  coUege  was  shaated)  met 
him.;  and,  freceded  by  a  variety  of  musical  in^ruments, 
fimphtswd:  upon  iheasing  which,  he  himself,  as  if  ac- 
tuaied  by  the  ^samc  sparitt  inuuediately  jobcd  them,  and 
prophesied  also*    The  same  thing  again  occurred  to^ 

«  1  9mm,  X.  5— m 


^M  PROPHETIC  POETRT.  Lkct.  It; 

lam,  and  the  perapns  sent  bj  htm  to  take  David  prison- 
er at  Naioth;^  who,  when  they  saw  the  prophets  proph- 
esying, and  Samuel  presiding  over  thna,  seised  with 
the  same  divine  spirit  and  oithuaiasm,  began  to  prophe- 
Bj^ong  with  them*  I  find  no  discordance  among  au- 
thors concerning  the  nature  of  this  mode  of  prc^bcqr. 
ing :  all  are,  I  believe,  agreed  in  this  pointy  and  all  on* 
/  derstand  by  it  the  praises  of  God  cekbrated,  by  the 
/  impulse  of  die  Holy  Spirit,  with  music  and  soi^«  In 
this  *ey  folloiy  the  authority  of  the  ChaUee  interpret- 
ers, or  rather  the  evidence  of  reason  itself:  for  exactly 
in  the  same  manner,  Asaph,  Heman,  Iduthun,  who 
were  the  chief  musicians  in  the  temple,  are  said  **  to 
*<  have  prophesied  upon  the  harp,  the  psaltery,  and  the 
^*  cyml^,  when  praise  and  thanksgiving  were  offered  to 
*^  Jehovah*'"^  From  these  instances  it  is  suflkiendy 
apparent,  that  the  word  Aa6»  was  used  by  die  Uebrewa 
in  an  ambiguous  sense,  and  that  it  equally  denoted  a 
prophet,  a  poet,  or  a  muscian,  under  the  influence  of 
divine  mspiration.  To  these  we  may  add  the  prophet- 
esses, Miriam  the  sbter  of  Aaron,  and  Deborah,  who 
were  distinguished  by  that  title,  not  only  because  ihey. 
pronounced  the  oracles  of  Jehovah,  but  on  account  of 
their  excellence  in  music  and  poetry ;  fi>r  these  sister 
arts  were  united  by  the  Hebrews,  as  weU  as  by  all  other 
nations,  during  the  first  stages  of  society.  AStist  these 
proofs  there  can  scarcely  be  any  occasion  to  remark^ 
tfiat  Sok>mon,  or  at  least  the  editor  or  eon^iiler  of  his 
proverbs,  twice  makes  use  of  the  ftrord,  wMfeh,  in  its 
ordinary  sense,  means  prophecy,  strictly  so  /ailed,  to 
denote  the  language  of  poetry.  For  he  callathe  words 
of  Agur  and  Lemuel"  Mauch  which  Jerome  renden 

10  1  Sak.  m.  30—34.  "  1  Caftov.  xxv.  1—3. 

n  The  late  Mr.  Hallet  of  Exeter,  in  the  second  T^ume  of  hia  Notet  and 


L«eT.  1«.  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  ttr 

vUion,^  the  seventy  Greek  translators  an  aracie^  the 
Chsidte  prophecy :  when  in  reality  those  passages  have 
nothing  in  them  which  can  be  properly  said  to  bear  any 
resemblance  to  prophecy ;  but  are  mere  rhapsodies  of 
morality,  ornamented  indeed  with  the  usual  embellish- 
ments of  poetry,"  ITie  Hebrews  certainly  did  not  ex- 
press by  the  same  wwd  ideas,  which  they  deemed  in- 
consistent, or  repugnant  to  each  other ;  and,  what  is 
remarkable,  the  same  ambiguity  prevails,  the  same 
word  (and  we  may  well  presume  for  similar  reasons) 
denotes  both  a  prophet  and  a  poet  in  the  Arabic  lan- 
g;uage,  in  the  Greek,  and  in  the  Latin." 

Nor  is  it  reasonable  to  suppose,  that  Prophecy  admit- 
ted Poetry  and  Music  to  a  participation  in  the  name  a* 
lone ;  on  the  contrary  we  find,  that  she  did  not  disdain 

Biscounes,  p.  99,  &e.  hftlh  «dvmoed  enough  to  shew  that  the  existence  of 
the  two  personages  here  mentioned  is  at  least  problematical.  To  the  rep* 
titation  of  this  excellent  nkon  (and  perhaps  it  was  his  least  praise)  it  de^ 
Mxym  t6  he  iMntioned,  that  there  is  aearcely  a  eonjeetmral  emendation  of 
the  Hehrew  text  proposed  hy  him,  which  waa  not  afterwards  fowid  by  Dr* 
Kemiicot,  in  one  manuscript  or  another,  to  have  been  an  ancient  reading. 

8.  H. 
B  JUasfs,  wlueh  aoeording  to  its  etymology  means  am  oraetdor  t^y%; 
M9«»,  is  no  mote  pecuUar  to  predietions  of  future  erentSy  than  to  eveiy 
species  of  that  eloquence  which  is  supposed  to  come  by  inspiration^  includ- 
ing that  which  teaches  the  salutary  principles  of  mor^l  conduct  I  do  not 
ttmsfew  see  mudi  Ibrce  i»  this  argument  of  our  author :  for  whatever 
Lemuel  composed  upder  the  influence  of  the  ni^ine  Spirit  might  properly 
he  called  nuuga,  whether  in  verse  or  not  The  word  is  derived  from  noHif 
he  nisedy  he  produced,  he  spoke  i  not  as  some  of  the  old  commentators 
derive  it»  from  noso»  he  ccceived.  Though  a  divine  oracle  might,  I  eon«' 
Ibss,  take  its  name  with  gteat  propriety  firom  rtceraii^,  as  does  the  Greek- 
word  AMfifM  (so  the  Seventy  render  this  very  phrase)  which  means  being  re^ 
mh»4  from  God.  But  the  use  of  the  word  in  3  Knies  ix.  3i,  militatef» 
agaiiist  thja  derivation.    H. 

M  PMir.  m.  1.  xxxL  1*   See  alsa  1  Cnn*w.  xv.  33;  and  3r,  nv&rr  nw» 
tfX?^  to»  flw,  Ixx. 

^  Muitenabld,  nftpmic,  Vatos.    See  Josxra  Midi's  Works,  p.  59.    Tit. 
1 12,    LuKX  i.  67i  and  Hamxovb  on  the  passage.    Juthar*^  JVs^* 


%4$  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  Lbm.  l|. 

to  unite  herself  with  Harmony,  and  to  aooept  of  her  «»- 
sistancc.    The  example  of  £li$ha  is  remarkable,^  nrfio 
when  about  to  pronounce  the  answer  of  the  Most  High 
to  the  inquiry  of  the  two  kings  of  Israel  and  Jucbb,  or- 
ders a  minstrel  to  be  brought  to  him»  and  upon  his  strik- 
ing the  harp,  is  immediately  agitated  by  the  Holy  Spiril«^ 
Many  commentatom  have  indeed  supposed  that  the 
prophet  appUed  to  music  only  to  Sooth  the  perturbatioii 
of  his  mind ;  in  this  they  follow  an  opinion  of  some  qf 
the  more  modem  Rabbles  (an  opinion,  it  nsy  be  ob^ 
y  served,  by  no  means  satisfactorily  proved)  tl^t  every 
emotion  of  a  more  vehement  kind  excluded  tfa?  Holy 
Spirit,  and  consequently  was  totally  inconsistent  with 
prophecy  ;^'  when,  on  die  contrary,  we  learn  from  the 
testimony  of  the  prophets  themselves,  that  the  set  of 
prophesying  was  often,  if  not  always,  accompanied  with 
/      a  very  violent  agitation  of  the  mind.**  Be  this  as  it  may, 
I  am  inclined  to  believe,  both  from  this  last  and  the  oth- 
er instances,  that  the  prophet  himself  accompanied  the 
minstrel»  and  uttered  sotne  hymn,  or  rather  the  predic- 
tion itself,  to  the  music  of  the  harp ;  and  both  the  st}'le 
and  the  form  of  this  prophetic  reply  are  very  much  in 
favour  of  this  opinion.** 

From  all  these  testimonies  it  is  sufficiently  evident, 
that  the  prophetic  office  had  a  most  strict  connection 
with  the  poetic  art.  They  had  one  common  name,  one 
common  origin,  one  common  author,  die  Holy  Spirit. 
Those  in  particular  were  called  to  the  exercise  of  the 

«•  2  KiHo'»  ill.  15.  w  mrr  t  t^f  *nfn  pjorr  paa  rrm 

i>  See  llAixo^r.  Mn^e  Mh9c,  n.  36,  and  many  others  quoted  by  Sxith, 

IK99ert,  •/Prophecy,  c.  viii. 

1»  See  Jib.  aoiil  9.  JBsik.  iii  14^  IS.  Dim  riL  36^  x  S.  IUsak.  iia. 
3»  and  16. 

M  Dryden,  m  tbe  adjtistment  of  his  measures,  and  Handel  of  his  mjAsic, 
to  the  diversified  strains  of  Timotheus,  seem  both  to  hare  possessed  the 
same  idea.    S.  H. 


// 


lulcT.  18.  PB0PHBTIC  POETRY.  S49 

prophetic  oftce,  who  were  previously  cofiTersint  widi 
tfe  sacred  poetrjr.  It  was  equally  a  part  of  their  duty  to 
compose  verses  for  the  service  oi  the  church,  and  to  de^ 
Glare  the  oracles  of  God :  and  it  cannot,  therefore,  be 
doubted  that  a  great  portion  of  the  sacred  hymns  majr 
pxt^)erly  be  termed  prophecies,  or  that  many  of  the 
iMTOphecies  are  in  reality  hymns  or  poems.  Since,  as  wift 
^ve  ahieady  proved,  it  was  from  the  first  a  prmcipal  end 
Und  aim  of  poetry,  to  impress  uponr  the  minds  of  met 
tile  sayings  of  the  wise,  and  such  precqitS  as  related 
either  to  the  principles  of  faidi,  or  the  laws  of  moraK^ 
fas  Wen  as  to  transmit  the  same  to  posterity;  it  ought 
M>t  to  appear  extraordinary,  that  prophecy,  which  in  thilfc 
view  ranks  as  a  principal»  and  is  of  the  highest  import- 
ance, should  not  disdain  the  assistance  of  aii  art  so  ad- 
mirably calculated  to  effect  its  purposesl  Of  this  we 
have  an  illustrious  proof  in  that  prdphetic  ode.  of  Mo- 
ses,'^ which  he  composed  by  the  especial  command  of 
God,  to  ht  learned  by  the  Israelites,  and  committed  to 
memory  :  "  That  this  song  may  be,"  says  God  hinaself, 
'*  for  a  wimess  against  the  people  of  Israel,  when  they 
*'  shall  depart  from  me ;  this  slmll  be  a  testynony  in  their 
*^  mouths ;  for  it  shall  not  be  forgotten,'  nfof  shall  it  de« 
"  part  out  of  the  mouths  of  their  posterity  for  ever.^'* 

But,  as  on  the  one  hand,  this  poem  of  Moses  is^  clear 
and  remarkable  specimen  of  theproph^tic  mode  of  writ- 
ing ;  so,  on  the  other,  there  are  many  prophecies  which 
^re  not  less  conspicuous  as  .poems.  It  remains,  there- 
fore, only  tx>  produce  a  few  examples  from  the  prophetic 
writings.  Many  of  the  most  ancien|:  of  those,  which  art 
extant  in  the  Mosaic  history,  I  have  .already  quotedy^^.as 
exiubiting  the  fairest  examples  of  the  Hebrew  poetry : 
for  instance  the  imprecation  of  Noah,  the  blessing  of  Ja« 

St  -OwoT.  xxxit.  V  See  Dxvt.  xzxi.  19>  21.  *f  See  Leet,  lY, 

32 


3S(y  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  JUct.  m 

oob«  and  the  predictions  oi  Balaam  :  than  all  wluch  (and 
particularly  those  of  Balaam)  I  do  not  know  diat  the 
whole  esttent  of  the  prophetic  writings  could  afford  more 
pertinent  instances.  Nay,  so  eminently  distinguished  are 
they  by  all  the  characteristics  of  poetry,  that  those  wha 
are  inclined  to.adtnowledge  any  kind  of  metre  in  the  He* 
brtw  poeti^,  musi,  I  am  convinced,  refer  to  these  a$ 
liietrical  compositions,  if  thry  be  in  the  least  desirous  of 
maintaining  their  opinion  by  fact'and  ^gu  meht.  Among 
the  prophecies  of  Balaam  I  willalso-ventuve  to  class  that 
^nnost  elegant  pokm,.  whieb  is  rescued  from  oblivion  by 
the  propheH  Mic^^  and  which  in  matter  and  diction,  in 
^G  structure,  form,  and  character  of  the  composition,  so 
admirably  agrees  with  the  other  monuments  of  his  iame^ 
that  it  evidently  appears  to  be  a  citation  from  the  answer 
of  Balaam  to  the  king  of  the  Moabites  i^ 

«  Wherewith  shall  I  come  before  XiKoviirH  ? 
/^      <^  Wberewiih  shall  I  baw  myself  unto  the  High  God^ 

^  Shall  I  come  before  bim  with  bunu-offerings  } 

«  With  calves  of  a  year  old  ? 

^  Will  JcHoYAK  be  pleased  with  thousands  of  rams  I 
1 '  .  u  With  ten  thousands  of  rivers  of  oil  ? 

/•«<  Shall  I  give  my  first-bom  for  my  transgression  I 
:;    A  The  fiHist.of  ipy  body  for  the  sin  of  my  soul  I 

^<.He  hath  shewed  thee«  O  mani  what  is  good  i 

^  And  what  doth  Jehovah  require  of  thee^ 

<'  But  to  do  justicet  and  to  love  mercy, 

•«  And' to  be  humble' in  walking  with  thy  God  ?•* 

Biit  if  we  proceed  to  other  parts  of  the  Sacred  Hi». 
lory,  examples  will  not  be  wanting :  and  among  the  first 
of  these  is  that  Cygnean  song  of  Moses,  as  it  may  prop- 
trly  be  Called ;  1  do  not  speak  of  the  prophetic  ode, 
which  has  frequenriy  been  distinguished  by  that  title, 

^4Mic.  vi.  6— a 

^  »ce  Mir.  v\.  5,  and  the  late  Bishop  Birrus'i  Sermon  on  the  charactc» 
i»f  DalaatiK 


I.ECT.  !••  PItOPHETIC  POETRK^  ^4 

but  of  die  last  blessiog  of  that  divine  pni^het,  ia  whic^^ 
sire  predicted  the  future  fortunes  of  tfa^  J^r^f^ : 

<(  Afld  rp^.  fi^  i|Qtt>^  them  firocn  Scir  i[*yf^  ' 
The  prophecy  ia^yideo^  of.  the  $wi<{)|}at)t^r^  with  t)u% 
of  Jacob ;  both  in  the  exordium  and  th^.iV>nclusioa  it^iij 
exquisitely  sublime  ;  Qpd  throughout  J^e^whp)^  ^pr^.^ 
an  admirable  specimen  of  the  prophetic  poetry.  In  the 
same  class  with  these  may  be  ranked  the  answer  of  Sam« 
uel  the  prophet  to  Saul,  in  which  be  reproaches  him  with 
his  disobedience  and  contumacy,  and  denounces  against 
him  the  Divine  decree  of  expulsion  from  his  kingdom. 
It  consists  of  four  distichs  elegantly  corresponding  to 
each  other. 

<f  Hath  JsHOTAB  pleasure  in  bttrat-oSerings  and  sacrificesi 

**  As  in  listening  to  the  voice  of  Jehovah  ? 

^  Behold  !  to  listen  is  better  than  than  to  sacrifice, 

^  And  to  obey  than  the  fat  of  rams. 

<«  Rebellion  is  as  the  sui  of  divnation» 

**  And  contempt  as  the  crime  of  idolatry. 

^  Because  thou  hast  rejected  the  word  of  Jshovabi 

M  He  hath  also  rejected  thee  from  being  king."*^ 

The  last  words  of  David^  afford  an  evident  and  illustii- 
ous  instance  to  the  same  purpose,  however  difficult  and 
obscure  the  verbal  interpretation  of  the  prophecy  may 
be.  I  apprehend  die  examples  from  sacred  history  will 
appear  sufficiendy  numerous,  if  I  add  the  prediction  of 
Isaiah  concerning  Senacherib,  which  b  inserted  in  the 
book  of  Kings : 
^  He  hath  despised  thee,  he  hath  mocked  thee,  O  virgin  daughter 

«(ofSion; 
^  He  hath  shaken  his  head  at  thee,  O  daughter  of  Jerusalem.*'** 

36  DxvT.  xxxiiL 

»  I  Sax.  xv.  23»  23.    AU  the  old  translators  sifem  to  have  read  SMvprr^ 
for  aivpnb,  and  D^rvi  without  l  prefixed. 
M  3  Sax.  xziii.  1— r      ^  3  Kmes  xix*  21—34.    If  ax.  xxxvil  3^—35. 


35S  PROPHETIC  POETRY.;  Lbct.  la. 

The  same  passage  occurs  again  among  the  prcdictiona 
of  the  prophet :  and  this  reminds  me  that  it  is  now  full 
time  to  pass  from  the  Ustorians  to  the  books  of  the 
prophets  themselves,  which  will  afford  us  abundant  in» 
stances  to  demonstrate  that  the  compositions  of  the 
prophets  are  truly  poc^ticaU  and  at  the  san^e  tyne  to  il«* 
histrate  the  nature  of  their  poetry. 


LECTURE  XIX. 


THE  VBOrmmC  POBTBT  IS  SENTENTIOUS. 


*|1ie  pnlmody  of  the  Hetffewa  The  manner  of  duntinp  the  fayniBt  by  al* 
Urnale  ohom:  ^hKt$e  t^  wigvi  of  the  poetical  conttrUotiOB  of  the 
aentcnce%  and  that  pepuliar  ftrai,  in  which  venea  and  disticha  run  par* 
allel  or  correspondent  to  each  ottier— Three  apeciea  of  parallelism  j  the 
iynonymona»  the  antithetic,  and  the  aynthetie :  ezaapAeaof  each,  ftrst 
Aem  th«  bed|;a  gen^n%  aU6Wed  to'  be  poeticalt  and  aAenrarda  from 
the  writings  of  the  prophets— The  aentiments  of  R.  Azarias  considered— 
The  great  importance  of  an  accurate  attention  to  this  poetical  eonform»- 
tion  of  the  sentmea* 

1  Bfi  origin  and  earliest  application  of  the  Hebrew  po« 
€try  have^  I  think,  been  dearly  traced  into  the  service 
of  religion;  T<y  celebrate  in  hymns  and  songs  the 
praises  of  Almighty  God ;  to  decorate  the  worship  of 
the  Most  High  wiUi  aU  the  diarms  and  graces  of  har- 
mony ;  to  ^ve  force  and  energy  to  the  devout  affec* 
tions  was  the  sublime  employment  of  the  sacred  Muse. 
It  is  more  than  probable,  that  the  very  early  use  of 
sacred  music  in  the  public  worriiip  of  the  Hebrews, 
eontribnted  not  a  litde  to  the  pecuUar  character  of  their 
poetry,  and  might  impart  to  it  that  apprq)riate  form, 
which,  though  chiefly  adapted  to  this  particular  purpose, 
itneverthelesa  preserves  on  every  other  occasion. '  But 
in  order  to  explain  this  matter  more  clearly,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  premise  a  few  observations  concerning  the 
loicient  Hebrew  mode  of  chanting  their  sacred  hymns. 
Though  we  are  rather  at  a  loss  for  information,  re- 
specting  the  usuid  manner  and  ceremony  of  chanting^ 


a54  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  Lbct.  19. 

their  poems ;  and  though  the  subject  of  their  sacred 
music  in  general  be  involved  in  doubt  and  obscurity, 
thus  far  at  least  is  evident  from  many  examples,  that 
the  sacred  hymns  were  alternately  sung  by  opposite 
choirs/  and  that  the  one  choir  usually  performed  the 
hymn  itself,  whik  the  otSer  sung  a  paiticular  distich, 
which  was  regularly  interposed  at  stated  intervals,  either 
of  the  nature  of  the  proasm  or  epode  of  the  Greeks.  In 
this  manner  we  learn  that  Moses  with  the  Israelites 
chanted  the  ode  at  the  Red  sea;  for  ''Miriaiii  the 
^*  prophetess  took  a  timbrel  In  her  hand,  and  dl  the 
*^  women  followed  her  with  timbrelsi  and. with  dances; 
*^  and  Miriam  answered  them,"  that  is,  she  and  the 
women  sung  the  response  to  the  chorus  of  men ;' 

^  Sing  to  Jbbovah,  for  he  is  greatly  exalted ; 

^  The  horse  and  the  rider  he  hath  cast  into  the  sea.'* 

The  sam^  b  observable  in  some  of  the  Psalms,  which 
are  compoted  in  thisibrm.  The  musical  p^rfgraianee 
was  on  some  occasions  differently  condiictedr:  for  in- 
stance, one  o£  the  choirs  sung  a  siJigle  verse  to  the  pt|i» 
er,  while  the  other  constantly  ^ddcd  a  vei^jnspiae 
respect  correspondent  to  the  former.  Of  this  the  folr 
lowing  dbtich  is  an  example) 

«  Sing  praises  to  Jbhotah,  for  he  is  good ; 
^  Because  bis  mercy  enducetl^for  ever:'* 

which  Ezra'  informs  us  was  sung,  by  the  (Miesits  and 
licvites  in  alternate  choirs  at  the  ocimmand  pf  David  s 
as  indeed  may  be  collected  from  the  psalm  itself,^  in 
which  the  latter  verse,  suiig  by  the  latter  choir,  forms 
a  perpetual  epode.    Of  the  same  tiature  i^rthe  song  of 

I  See  NiBKir.  xii.  24,  31,  38,  40,  and  the  title  of  the  Pa'uLM  Ixxxviii. 
«  EioD.  XV.  20,  21.    See  Philo  cr.^  ywpyt»s$  pag-  1^»  also  ♦!/«  Aw  *t«(«h 
roNb  paj.  902.     Edit.  Paris,  1640» 
?  f!fZM±  ill.  It  4  jpg.  cxi;w- 


LtcT.  Id.  PlOPHEnC  POETRY.  U5$ 

the  women  concerning  Saul  and  David/  for  <<  the  wo- 
^  men  who  played  answered  one  another ;"  that  is,  they 
chanted  in  two  choirs  the  alternate  song/  the  one  choir 
singing, 

■  1  Sam.  XTifl.  r. 

0  It  is  uMCh  to  be  re^^retted  that  the  ksfned  sathor  hu  not  inrestigated 
this  subject  more  /u/fy,  and  with  his  usaal  precision.— Though  the  pcr- 
loMiaifce  «f  thei^  hymns  by  two  (dtemate  cHorms,  were  the  more  usual,  it 
et^ideutly  was  not  the  only  mode  -.  for,  as  the  parallelism  of  senlenees  in  th« 
Hebrew  poetry  is  not  restricted  to  distichs,  but  admits  a  tvried  form  of 
iteration,  so  their  psalmody,  though  usually  confined  to  two  alternate  cho- 
nucs,  waa  sometimes  extended  to  more.  An  example  of  the  latter  kind 
will  appear  in  Psalm  cxxxv,  which  tiras  obviously  performed  by  Taxxa  dif' 
ferttu  CBCiRS,  the  Higli-priest  with  the  House  of  Aaron  constituting  the 
fitwi  i  the  Levitts  serving  in  the  temple,  the  second  f  and  the  congregation 
of  Israel,  the  Hdtd  ;  all  having  their  duHiut  parts,  and  att  at  stated  inter- 
vals wntmg'  in  full  chorus. 

The  High-priest,  accompanied  by  the  rest  of  the  priesthood,  began  witli 
jiddressing  the  Levites : 
Praise  ye  J  ah  f 
The  Levites  return  the  exhortation  to  the  priest» : 

PraUe  ye  the  name  Jehovah  f 
The  iViests  and  Levites  then  joining,  address  the  congregation: 

JPraiee  Atm,  O  ye  eervante  of  Jehevah  / 
The  Congregation  address  the  Priests— 

Te  that  Hand  in  the  home  of  Jehovah  / 
And  the  Levites—— 

Jn  the  §^nru  of  the  home  of  our  Ood  / 
Thia  may  be  considered  as  the  first  passus  of  the  Wfoaefutf  whiah  the 
Choir  of  Prieoto  resumes  by  a  second  exhortation  to  the  Lerciteo^  and  as- 
signing the  reason  foir  their  praise : 

Praioe  ye  Jah,for  Jihovah  i»  good. 
The  Levites  then  exhort  the  Congregation  : 

Sing  pndoeo  unto  hie  name  for  it  io  pleaoant 
Aad  the  Congregation  joining  both,  the  three  choira  unito  in  full  olMrua : 
Tor  Jah  hath  chooen  Jacob  unto  himoelf.' 
Israel  for  hit  peculiar  treaoure. 
The  itfoe»/M  thus  concluding,  the  Mgh-prieot,  followed  by  his  band,  com- 
mences in  the  5th  verse  the  Hymn.    The  6th  verse  belongs  to  the  Zetiie»^ 
and  the  7th  to  the  Congregation,  both  whom  having,  in  them,  celebrated 
Jehotah,  as  the  Creator  and  Governor  of  the  world,  the  Btgh^prieot  de- 
scends in  die  Sth  verse  to  the  interpositions  of  Jdiovah  in  behalf  of  hia 
flhosen  people  ;  beginning  with  the  miracle  that  procured  their  delivarancer 
from  bondi^    The  Leviteo  having  adverted  to  the  other  miracles  wroughf 


9ft  ^         FRDHHBTIC .  PCMBmi»  JLmt*  19. 

«  Skttlhttfi  siMte  liui^w(Amd«>" 
The  Other  answcriiig, 

«<  Aod  Dtvid  hit  ibn  dionwidi.*' 

in  JBgypt,  in  the  former  clause  of  the  9th  rtrset  and  the  C^ngrt^atiM,  in 
the  latter  pointed  out  Pharaoh  and  hk  servants,  as  thdse  upon  whom 
^he  judgements  of  Jehovah,  were  inflicted,  the  JUgh-priett^  tu;.  proeeeds  in 
the  10th  Terse»  to  remark  the  extension  of  similar  judgements  to  other  a** 
tions  and  kings,  whosemunes  and  kingdoms  the  LevUn  enumerate,  in  the 
11th  vecae,  whilst  the  CMigrtgatim^  in  the  13th,  commemorate  the  blessings 
•  wl^ch  had  thence  resulted  to  them.    At  the  close  of  this  recitativi^  in  the 
irst  clanse  of  the  13th  verse,  follows  a  chorus  of  the  Priests: 
>  7%  name,  O  Jehovah  /  endurethfir  ever  / 
And  hi  the  second,  another,  of  the  lievites  : 

Jl^  memorial^  O  Jehtroah  !  throvghout  i^i  generation». 
The  Congrqf^ataon  then  striking  in  with  Priests  and  lievite^  all  unite  in 
iiill  chorus,  as  before : 

For  Jehovah  mil  Judge  hio  people  .- 
Jind  tPiU  repent  Hun  concerning  Mo  oervanto. 
This  chorus  may  be  considered  aa  closing  the  first  part  of  the  Hymn,  the 
•oncluding  clause  of  which  adverting  to  the  frequent  backslldings  of  thn 
Jewbh  nation,  notwithstanding  the  blessings  both  ordinary  and  extrawnS' 
nary  which  Jehovah  had  conferred  upon  them,  and  the  prosperity  they  en- 
joyed in  the  land  promised  to  their  forefathers,  notwithstanding  their  turn* 
ing  aside  to  the  idolatry  of  tlie  nations  that  had  been  cut  off  from  before 
them,  the  choir  of  Prieoto  (referring  back  to  the  5th  verse)  as  if  assured 
that  Israel  could  revolt  no  ^ore,  breaks  out  in  a  second  recitative,  expres- 
sive at  once  of  exultation,  and  contempt : 

The  idola  of  the  heathen^  silver  and  gold^  Sec. 
To  this  the  Levites  add  in  the  same  indignant  strain  : 

They  Have  mouthe,  but  they  apeak  not,  &c. 
The  Congregation  subjoin  : 

They  have  ear»,  but  they  hear  not,  &c. 
And  tlie  three  choirs  again  uniting  : 

They  that  make  them  are  Uke  unto  them  : 
Every  one  that  trutteth  in  them. 
With  tills  exquisite  contrast  between  the  gods  in  whom  the  heathen  con- 
fided, and  Jehovah  the  rock  of  their  salvation— the  former  unable  to  aid  or 
hear  their  votaries,  and  the  latter  loading  benefits  on  his  own— the  second 
part  of  the  Hymn  is  concluded,  and  the  High-priest  with  his  choir,  by  a 
graceful  transiUon,  renews  his  exhortation  as  at  first ',  but  now  addressing 
the  Congregation : 

JBlea»  Jehivak,  O  lm$»e  o/Joroel/ 
To  which  the  Congregation  reply  : 

£le»»  Jehovah^  O  hou»e  of  Aaron  / 


Lfter.  19.  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  SST 

In  the  veiy  same  manner  Isaiah  describes  the  seraphim 
chanting  the  praise  of  Jehovah:'  **they  cried  alter- 
nately, 

^  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Jkhotab  God  of  Hosts ! 
«  The  whole  earth  is  filled  with  his  glory.** 

From  the  Jewish,  the  custom  of  singing  in  alternate  cho- 
rus  was  transmitted  to  the  Christian  Church,  and  was 
continued  in  the  latter  from  the  first  ages ;  it  was  called 
*'  alternate  or  responsive,"*  when  the  whole  choir  sepa- 
rated into  two  divisions  sung  the  Psalm  alternately  by 
strophes ;  and  when  this  was  done  by  single  verses,  or 
lines,  that  is,  when  the  same  division  of  the  choir  always 
sung  the  latter  part  of  the  distich,  they  were  said  to  sing 
the  choral  response.^ 

Now  if  this  were  the  ancient  and  primitive  mode  of 
chanting  their  hymns,  as  indeed  appears  highly  probable^ 
the  proximate  cause  will  be  easily  explained,  why  po- 
ems of  this  kind  are  disposed  in  equal  stanzas,  indeed 

The  priests,  in  like  manner,  exhorting^  the  Levites  : 

Blett  Jehovahf  O  houte  of  Levi  / 
To  whom  they  in  they  in  their  turn  rejoin  : 
Te  that  fiar  Jehovah,  bleao  Jehovah  I 
Ail  then  uniting : 

Bkeoed  be  Jehovah  oui  of  Shn  / 
Who  dwetteth  in  Jenualem  / 
The  whole  is  closed  by  each  choir  in  full  ehonis,  exhorting  the  other  two : 

JPraioeffe^Jah/ 
From  this  analysis  it  is  eTident,  that  the  Hebrew  hymn  is  a  composition 
not  less  regular  than  the  Grecian  Ode,  and  of  a  much  more  Taried  nature 
than  the  professor  bad  led  his  audience  to  suppose.    S.  H. 

The  reader  will  find  tbe  Psalm  in  an  entire  state,  but  divided  and  i^por- 
tinned  according  to  the  above  specimen  in  the  Appendix. 

7  Is.  TL  3.    See  what  Socrates  relates  of  the  origin  of  the  ancient  hymns. 
BUt.  EccL  tL  8. 

9  PI.XV.  Lib.  X.  Epist  97.— **  They  repeat  alternate  verses  to  Christ,  as  to 
•  God." 

«  See  Bur«BAx*s  Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Church,  xir.  1. 

63 


3f  S  PftOrHBTIC  POBTRT.  Lac tw  |«* 

i^rf  qual  disliebs,  for  the  moat  part ;  and  why  thtee  Air 
tichs  should  in  some  measure  consist  of  versiclea  or  par* 
aUelistns^^  corresponding  to  each  other.     And  this  modir 
of  composition  bring  admirably  adapted  to  the  musical 
modulation  of  that  kind  of  poetry,  which  was  mkost  in 
use  among  them  from  the  very  beginning,  and  at  the 
same  time  being  perfectly  agreeable  to  the  genius  and 
dadence  of  the  language,  easily  extended  itself  into  the 
other  species  of  poetry,  though  not  designed  for  the  same 
purpose ;  in  fact,  we  find  that  it  pervaded  the  whole  of 
the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews;  insomuch,  that  what  was 
s^id  of  the  Heathen  Muses  may  still  more  strictly  be  ap- 
plied to  those  of  the  Hebrews, — "  they  love  alternate 
song.^    On  this  occasion  also  it  may  not  be  improper 
to  remark,  that  the  word  gnanahj  which  properly  signi- 
fies to  answer,  is  used  more  generally  to  denote  any  song 
<ir  poem  ;*'  whence  we  can  only  infer,  either  that  the 
word  has  passed  from  particular  to  general  use,  or  that 
among  the  Hebrews  almost  every  poem  possesses  a  sort 
of  responsive  form. 

Such  appears  to  have  been  the  origin  and  progress  of 
that  poetical  and  artificial  conformation  of  the  sentences, 
wrhich  we  observe  in  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews.  That 
it  prevailed  no  less  in  the  Prophetic  Poetry  ^n  in  the 
Lyric  and  Didactic,  to  which  it  was,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  most  adapted,  is  evident  from  thone  very  ancient 

1*  **Tlie  carmpondencc  of  one  rene»  or  line»  with  another,  I  caU  parol* 
«  kUum,  When  a  proposition  is  delivered,  and  a  second  is  subjoined  lo  it» 
*^  «r  drawn  under  it,  equWaknt,  or  contrasted  with  it,  in  sense ;  or  similar 
<<  to  it  in  the  form  of  grammatical  construction ;  these  I  caU  parallel  lines ; 
*•  and  tlie  words  or  phrases,  answering  one  to  another  in  the  corresponding 
"  lines,  parallel  terms."    Lowth's  Prelim,  Ditc.  to  Itaiah. 

11  Exo».  xxxii.  IS.  Num.  xsi.  17.  Hos.  ii.  15.  Psalm  oxlyii.  7.  "Thus 
**  the  word  whxh  in  tlie  Arabic  answers  to  ^nanah,  denotes  not  only  to 
"  perform  iUtemaieiy^  but  also  to  ting,^^    H. 


specimens  of  poetical  propkecy^  idreadv  quoted  from  the 
hbtorical  books ;  and  it  only  remains  to  shew,  that  it  is 
no  less  observable  in  those  which  are  contained  in  the 
volumes  of  the  prophets  themselves.  In  order  the  more 
clearly  to  evince  this  point,  I  shall endeaviMir  to  iUustrate 
the  Hebrew  paralleltsm  according  to  its  different  species, 
first  by  examples  taken  from  those  books  commonly  al- 
lowed  to  be  poetical,  and  afterwards  by  correspondent 
examples  from  the  books  of  the  prophets. 

The  poetical  conformation  of  the  sentences,  which 
has  been  so  often  alluded  to  as  characteristic  of  the  He- 
brew  poetry,  consists  chiefly  in  a  certain  equality,  re- 
semblance, or  parallelism  between  the  members  of  each 
period ;  so  that  in  two  lines  (or  members  of  the  same 
period)  things  for  the  most  part  shall  answer  to  things, 
and  words  to  words,  as  if  fitted  to  each  other  by  a  kind 
of  rule  or  measure*  This  parallelism  hus  much  variety 
and  many  gradations ;  it  is  sometimes  more  accurate 
and  manifest,  sometimes  more  vague  and  obscure :  it 
may  however,  on  the  whole,  be  said  to  consist  of  three 
species.  .  ., 

The  first  species  is  the  synonymous  paralleUamy 
when  the  same  sentiment  is  repealed  in  different,  but 
equivalent  terms.  This  is  the  most  frequent  of  all,  and 
is  often  conducted  with  the  utmost  accuracy  and  neat- 
ness: examples  are  very  numerous,  nor  will  there  ybe 
any  great  difficulty  in  the  chcMce  of  thtwk ;  on  this  uc^ 
count  I  shall  select  such  as  are  most  remarkable  in  oth« 
er  respects. 

«  When  Israel  went  out  from  E^ypt ; 

*^  The  house  of  Jacob  from  a  strange  people ; 

«  Judah  was  as  hb  sacred  heritage ; 

<*  Israel  his  dominioD. 

<<  The  sea  saw,  and  fled  ; 

«•  Jordan  Mmed  back ; 


960  ntOniETIC  FCmilT.  Lmt«  19. 

«  The  noiiDUaM  Itwp^  like  rams; 

<«  The  billf  like  the  bods  of  the  flock* 

«  What  ailed  thee,  O  sea,  that  thou  fleddest ; 

«  Jordan,  that  thou  tuniedat  back : 

«  Moomainsv  that  je  leaped  like  rams ; 

«  And  hills,  like  the  sons  of  the  flock  ? 

<<  At  the  presence  of  the  Lord  treinble«  thoo  earth ; 

^  At  the  pretence  of  the  God  of  Jacob  ! 

«  Who  turned  the  rock  into  a  lake  of  waters ; 

«  The  flint  into  a  water  spring?*** 

The  prophetic  Muse  is  no  less  elegant  and  correct : 
«  Arise,  be  thou  enlightened ;  for  thj  light  is  come ; 
«  And  the  glory  of  Jshotab  is  risen  upon  thee. 
»  For  behold  darkness  ahall  cover  the  earth ; 
<*  And  a  thick  vapour  the  nations : 
«  But  upon  thee  shall  Jbhotab  arise; 
«  And  his  glorjr  upon  thee  shall  be  coospacootia. 
«  And  the  nations  shall  walk  in  thj  light ; 
«<  And  kings  in  the  brightness  of  thy  rising."^ 

Observe  also  that  famous  prophecy  concerning  the  hu- 
miliation, and  expiatory  sufferings  of  the  Messiah : 

^  Who  hath  believed  our  report ; 

**  And  to  whom  hath  the  arm  of  Jehovah  been  manifbsted : 

^  For  he  groweth  up  in  their  sight  like  a  tender  sucker; 

^«^  And  like  a  root  from  a  thirsty  soil ; 

«  He  hath  no  ibrm,  nor  any  beauty  that  we  should  regard  him ; 

*  Nor  is  his  countenance  such,  that  we  should  desire  him* 

**  Despised,  nor  accounted  in  the  number  of  men ; 

<*  A  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief; 

^  As  one  that  hideth  his  face  from  us : 

^  He  was  despised,  and  we  esteemed  him  not. 

^  Surely  our  infirmities  he  bath  borne  s 

^  And  our  sorrows  hc^^  hath  carried  them. 

»  Pi.  CMT. 

19  itAx.  Ix.  1—3.  **  In  the  brightness  of  thy  rising**  is  an  ezpresskm 
uncommonly  beautiful  and  simple ;  1  neyer  could  read  it  without  a  glow 
of  tranquil  pleasure  corresponding  to  the  scene  which  the  image  ezhibiti* 

T. 

14  Some  copies»  manuscript  as  well  as  printed,  peiai  ooi  in  the  msrgia 


LaoT.  19.  imraETIC  POCTRT.  jMl 

a  Yet  we  tbcmglit  bim  jndicttilly  MickM  i 

<«  Smitten  of  God  and  afflicted. 

^  But  be  was  wounded  for  our  traosgreauona  ; 

^  Was  smitten  for  our  iniquities  t 

c  Tbe  cbastisement  bj  whicb  our  peace  was  effected  was  lud 

^  upon  him ; 
^  And  by  bis  bmiaes  we  are  bealed/*» 

Isaiah  is  indeed  excellent»  but  not  unrivalled  in  this  kind 
of  composition :  there  are  abundant  exampks  in  the 
other  prophets ;  I  shall,  however»  only  add  one  from 
Hosea»  which  is  exquisitely  pathetic. 

«  How  sball  I  resign  thee,  O  Ephraim  ! 

M  How  sball  I  deliver  thee  up,  O  Israel ! 

M  How  sball  1  resign  thee  as  Admah  ! 

^  How  sball  1  make  thee  as  Zeboim ! 

^  My  heart  is  changed  within  me ; 

<c  I  am  warmed  also  with  repentance  towards  thee. 

^  I  will  not  do  according  to  tbe  feryeur  of  my  wrath, 

<<  I  will  not  retumifl  to  destroy  Ephraim : 

«  For  I  am  God,  and  not  man ; 

u  i7Holy  in  the  midst  of  thee,  though  I  inhabit  not  thy  cities/'" 

the  werd  mrr  C^J  to  be  inierted ;  (see  BiU.  Heb.  Edit  Micsaius,  Var. 
Lect.  in  loc.)  The  Stb.  aad  Voia.  certainly  espiew  it,  ind  indeed  the 
repetition  of  tbe  word  giyet  exqnitite  force  and  eleguice  to  the  Une. 
'*  This  word  occurs  in  tbe  text  of  twelve  MSS.  copies»  and  in  three  print- 
« ed,"    K.    Jiuthai^9  JVote. 

U  isAi.  Uu.  1—5. 

10  A  beantiftil  Hebraism  to  express  the  repetition  of  any  thing ;  in  this 
place  it  has  peculiar  force  and  pathos.    T. 

V  There  is  hardly  any  thing  in  which  translators  have  differed  more 
than  in  the  explanation  of  this  line ;  which  is  the  more  extraordinary  when 
we  consider  thai  the  words  themselves  are  so  well  known,  snd  the  Struct- 
ure of  the  period  so  plain  and  evident,  ^xmem  is  almost  singular  in  his 
explanation.  Cmmn-in  he,  **1  am  not  one  of  those  who  inhabit  cities ; 
**  who  live  according  to  human  laws;  who  think  cruelty  justice."  Cab- 
Tiuo  follows  JxnovB.  There  is  in  foct  in  the  latter  member  of  tbe  sen- 
tence Tsa  MiaM  i6  a  parallelism  and  synonyme  to  Mb  btm  in  tbe  former. 
Tbe  fiiture  max  has  a  Irequentative  power  (see  Ps.  xxii.  3  and  8,)  <<  I  am 
not  accustomed  to  enter  a  city;  i  am  not  an  inhabitant  of  a  city."  For 
there  is  a  beantilhl  oppesition  of  the  diflbcnt  parts ;  **  I  am  God  and  not 


tm  monoTK  poitit*  imcw^  i«* 

There  b  great  variety  m  the  form  of  the  17110117111009 
parallelism,  some  instances  of  which  are  deserving  of 
remark.  The  parallelism  is  sometimes  formed  by  the 
iteration  of.  the  former  member,  either  in  the  whole  or 
in  part : 

^  Much  have  they  oppveued  «le  irom  wof  ymalh  «p» 

«  May  larael  now  say  ; 

»  Much  have  they  oppressed  me  from  my  youth, 

«  Yet  have  they  not  prevailed  agaiast  «e/^* 

«  God  of  vaogeance,  Ibhovar  ; 

^  God  of  vengeance»  shew  thpelt 

•*  How  long  shall  the  wicked,  O  Jehovah» 

*<  How  long  shal)  the  wicked  triumph  V*^ 
<<  With  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass,  heaps  upon  heaps  i^ 
M  With  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass  a  thousand  oien  have  I  amittBO."^ 

Thus»  Isaiah  : 

a  Because  in  the  night  Ar  is  destroyed,  Moab  is  undone  ! 

**  Because  in  the  night  Kir  is  destroyedi  Moab  is  undone  !*^ 

**  man  ;**  this  ii  amplified  in  the  next  linct  and  the  anthhcais  a  little  va- 
ried. *'  I  am  thy  God,  inhabitiag  with  tkee,  but  in  a  peculiar  and  extrMr- 
^  dinary  manner,  not  in  the  manner  of  men."  Nothing  I  think  can  be 
plainer  or  moi«  eltgaat  than  this.    Jhuhm't  JVVie. 

■>  Hofl.  xi.'  a,  9.        M  Psalm  cxzix.  1,  3.        M  Psaix  xciv.  1  and  3. 

si  Jcs.  XV.  16.  "  It  will  admit  of  a  doubt  whether  these  words  mi^  not 
*<  be  rendered  :  With  the  jan-hwe  tf  an  09$,  in  confimn^,  I  have  ce^fimed 
*<  them.  For  this  soema  to  be  the  grammatical  construction  of  the  words ; 
**  and  the  word  Chamar  commonly  signifies  to  trouble  or  conjtue.  80  it  is 
*  rendered  by  the  Seventy,  fi»  wmym  «w  f^pUMuppr  f$iM4«  «^,  With  the  jo»- 
**  bane  of  an  aee,  in  exterminating^  I  have  exterminaied  ihem,  following  the 
*'  same  construction,  but  taking  the  more  violent  sense  of  the  word»  ife« 
*'  etrotfin^f  or  exterminating  /  which  sense  it  still  retuns  in  the  Arabic,  for 
c<  in  that  language  it  signifies  not  only  to  trouble  or  diePurb^  bat  also  to 
*'  avervfhelm  or  suppreee.  Bui  if  in  favour  of  the  other  inteifiretation»  which 
*'  is  also  adopted  in  our  common  translaidoa,  the  passage  in  £xon,  viiL  14^ 
*'  be  referred  to  fchemanm^  ehemerim,  in  heaps  $)  it  may  be  said  in  answer, 
*'  that  the  words  in  these  two  passages  assume  a  difiersBt  fona.  The  verb 
**  chamar  in  this  place  seems  most  directly  suited  to  express  taai«^t  and 
**  confusion,  and  is  also  introduced  for  the  sake  of  the  paronooissia,  and  the 
f*  similarity  of  aound  with  the  preceding  word  cAemsr»  an  art.    iC 

»  Chap.  XT.  1. 


So  Nahum  dso  in  the  cxor^om  of  Iu8  mbKitie  prophecy : 

<<  Jehovah  is  a  jealous  and  avenging  God  : 

^  Jkhotah  avengetb*  and  is  wrathful ; 

*  Jeiiovam  avengetli  Ims  adtertaiics  ; 

tt  Aad  he  restfrveth  indiffwitom  for  hia  «Mmiea.''*' 

There  i»  fivquently  aodietfaifig  wanting  in  the  htter 
member,  which  must  be  repeated  from  the  former  to 
complete  the  sentence : 

<<  The  king  sent  and  released  him ; 

«  The  ruler  of  the  people,  and  set  him  freo/'s^ 

In  the  same  manner  Uakb  i 

"  Kings  shall  see  him  aod  shall  rise  ii|> ; 

«  Princes,  and  thejr  shall  «oarship  him  t 

(&  For  the  sake  of  Jbhovax^  «hio  ia.  fi^tllfulf 

<<  Of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  for  he  hath  chosen  thee.'^ 

Frequently  the  whole  of  the  latter  division  answers  only 
to  some  part  of  the  former : 

<<  Jehotah  reigtteth,  let  the  earth  rejoice ; 

"  Let  tile  multitude  of  islands  be  glad."» 

«<  Arise,  be  tbou  enlightened  ;  for  thy  light  is  come ; 

<*  And  the  glory  of  Jbhovah  is  risen  upon  thee.">' 

Sometimes  also  there  are  triplet  pamttelisms*  In  these 
the  second  line  is  generally  synonymous  with  the  first, 
whilst  the  third  either  begins  the  period,  or  concludes 
ity  and  frequently  refers  to  both  the  preceding : 

**  The  floods  have  lifted  up,  O  Jshovab, 
«  The  floods  have  lifted  up  their  voice  ^ 
M  The  floods  have  lifted  up  their  v^avea* 
<(  Than  the  voice  of  many  waters, 
<*  The  glorious  vraves  of  the  sea, 
^  JfcaovAH  on  high  is  more  glorious.^^ 
«« Come  and  let  us  return  unto  Jbhotab  ; 
<«  For  he  hath  torn,  and  he  will  heal  us  ; 
^  He  hath  smittent  and  he  will  hind  us  up : 

»Nab.  L3.    .  s«  PsAUi  cv.  20.  »  Isai.  alix.  r.^ 

M  PiAui  zcviL  1.  sv  IsAi»  Uu  1.  9  PsAfcK  xeUi  3, 4- 


8M  raOPBETK  TOSTtLY.  Lkt.  I^ 

«  After  two  di^s  be  will  revive  «s; 
^  On  the  third  day  be  will  raise  us  up ; 
^  And  we  shall  live  in  his  sight.">0 

In  stanzas  (if  I  may  so  call  them)  of  five  lines,  the  na- 
ture of  which  is  nearly  similar,  the  line  that  is  not  paral- 
lel is  generally  placed  between  the  two  distichs : 
^  Like  M  the  iioo  growletb, 
^  Even  the  young  Iioo  over  bis  pref  ; 
<*  Though  the  whole  company  of  shepherds  be  called  Uigether 

^  against  him  i 
^  At  their  voice  he  will  not  be  terrified, 
«  Nor  at  their  tumult  will  he  be  bumbled."*» 
«Askalen  shall  see  it,  and  shaU  fear;  * 

a  Gasa  shall  also  see  h,  and  shall  be  greatly  pained : 
«  And  Eknm  shall  be  pained,  because  her  expectation  is  put  to 

^  shame ; 
o  And  the  king  shall  perish  from  Gaza ; 
^  And  Askalon  shall  not  be  iiihabited/'^^ 

Those  which  consist  of  four  lines  generally  fcMin  two 
Tegular  distichs;  but  there  is  sometimes  a  peculiar 
artifice  to  be  perceived  in  the  distribution  of  the  sen* 
fences : 

<<  From  the  heavens  Jbhovah  looketh  down, 

^  He  seeth  all  the  children  of  men  ; 

<«  From  the  seat  of  his  rest  he  contemplateth 

<<  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth/'n 

«  I  will  drench  my  arrows  in  blood, 

<<  And  my  sword  shall  devour  flesh  ; 

<<  In  the  blood  of  the  slain  and  the  captives ; 

<*  From  the  bushy  head  of  the  enemies/^ 

In  both  the  above  passages,  the  latter  members  are  to 
be  alternately  referred  to  the  former.  Isaiah  too  uses 
with  great  elegance  this  form  of  composition : 

«« For  thy  husband  is  thy  maker ; 

M  Jehovah  God  of  hosts  is  his  name  : 
9  Hos.  yi.  1,  2.  30  Uai.  xxxL  4.  51  Zscs;  ix.  4& 

9  Pb.  xzzJiL  U»  14.  M  Dan,  zasL  49. 


Upr.  If.  PftOPHETIC  POETRY.  3«$ 

:  ^  And  tliy  radeemer  is  the  Hdf  One  of  Israel ; 
<<  The  God  of  the  whole  earth  shall  he  be  called.''^ 

The  sense  has  an  alternate  correspondence  in  these 
fines*  In  the  following  the  form  of  the  construction  is 
alternate : 

«  And  his  land  is  filled  with  silver  and  gold; 
<<  And  there  is  no  end  to  his  treasures  t     ' 
<<  And  his  land  is  filled  with  horses, 
«  Neither  is  there  any  end  to  his  obariots.'^ss 

The  following  is  perhaps*  a  singular  instance : 

^  Who  is  like  unto  JehoTah  our  God  I 
^  Who  is  exalted  to  dwell  on  high, 
«  Who  humbleth  himself  to  look  dowui 
<<  In  the  heavens,  and  in  the  earth."3« 

Here  the  two  members  of  the  latter  line  are  to  be  re- 
ferred severally  to  the  two  preceding  lines ;  as  if  it 
were  :  "  Who  is  exalted  to  dwell  in  the  heavens,  and 
^'  who  humbleth  himself  to  inspect  the  things  that  are 
"  in  the  earth," 

The  antithetic  parallelism  is  the  next  that  I  shall 
specify,  when  a  thing  is  illustrated  by  its  contrary  be- 
ing opposed  to  it.  This  is  not  confined  to  any  partic- 
ular  form  :  for  sentiments  are  opposed  to  sentiments, 
Words  to  words,  singulars  to  singulars,  plurals  to  phi* 
rals,  Sec.  of  which  the  following  are  examines: 

•<  The  blows  of  a  friend  are  faithful ; 

^  But  the  kisses  of  an  enemy  are  treacherous.^ 

*<  The  cloyed  will  trample  upon  an  honey-comb ; 

«  But  to  the  hungry  every  bitter  thing  is  sweet. 

MlsAi.  lir.  5.  ^  Ibat.  li  r.  ^  Ps.  cxiit.  5, 6. 

ST  M  To  this  very  dsy  the  word  "my  is  in  use  is  the  East»  and  in  an  Ais^ 
**  bic  Lexicon»  which  is  accounted  one  of  the  best,  it  is  explained  by  the 
"  word  aia  (the  same  as  the  Hebrew  so)  to  /akify.  Whence  it  is  evi- 
«*  deni,  that  there  is  an  antithesis  between  the  tvo  hemistichs,  which  the 
**  LXX  hare  in  vain  attempted  to  explain»  they  have  nam»,  9p9taane9U9  or 
"-oolunutry.  Tbqyse^tohi^eresditnroup."  H. 
34 


«  There  is  who  makcth  ^rmtelf  riehi  and  ranelh  «11  ttubgft ; 

«t  Who  maki'th  him^ctt  poor  yK:i  h«th  diuch  w^tkb. 
«  The  rich  man  »  wiac  in  bia  own  eyes, 

<<  Sm  the  poor  «urn  rbat  hath  diacerniaent  to  trace  him  out  witt 
"  despise  him  "» 

There  is  sometimes  a  contraposition  of  parts  in  the 
same  sentence,  sqch  as  occurs  oiicc  in  the  above ;  and 
as  appears  in  the  following : 

**  I  am  swarthy  but  comely,  O  daughters  of  Jerusalem ; 

^  As  the  tenc»tif  Kedar,  as  the  pavilions  of  SolomGD.**^ 

The  last  line  hf  re  is  also  to  be  divided  and  separately 
applied  to  the  preceding,  '^  swarthy  as  the  tents  of  Ke- 
^  dar ;  comelf  as  the  pavilions  of  Soiotnon  ;^  so  like- 
wise in  the  enigma  oi  Sampson : 

M  Oat  <if  die  eater  came  Ibitll  «Mat ; 

^  And  out  of  the  «tnmg  came  fevft  sweetntea*'^ 

This  form  of  compositioi^  indeed,  agrees  best  \rith  a- 
dages  and  acute  sayings :  it  is  therefore  very  prevalent 
in  the  proverbs  of  Salomon,  in  some  of  which  the  prin- 
tupal  fbrte  and  elegance  depend  on  the  exactness  of  the 
antithesis.  It  is  Tiot  however  inconsistent  with  the  su- 
perior kinds  of  Hebrew  poetry  ;  for  w«  meet  with  it  in 
the  thanksgiving  ode  of  Hannah,  which  is  imitated  in 
dus  particular,  as  weU  as  b  the  general  forna  of  its  com* 
position  in  that  of  the  Vir^n  Mary  : 

*'  Tbe  bows  of  the  mighty  are  braken  ; 

^  And  they  tbat  stumbled  are  girded  with  strength  ; 

<<  The  full  have  hired  themselves  for  bread  ; 

^  And  the  hungry  have  ceased  tc/^  lUnger : 

3t  Prov.  ax«1&.  6,  7     aiii.  7.    aa^viiL  II.        »  gone  of  Sexaitoa  i.  5. 
4s  Jm».  Zfv.  14.    The  solution  of  the  enigms  by  the  Phlltstines  It  metri- 
cal, as  well  as  the  answer  of  SanpaoR  to  them.    lb.  y  18.    jhuUr^M  Vgte. 

41 «  There  ia  eviilentlv  aomctfaing  wanting  after  fChadelttJ  ceated,  in 
«  order  to  complete  the  sentence.  What  if  we  take  the  word  gnad  from 
«  the  beginning  of  the  next  verse,  and  so  understand  it  as  derived  from  the 
"  verb  (>fii«>f</J  to  ipoU  er-rtft  f  The  sense  will  tihen  be  the  htu^^  tea^- 


Ucvw  If.  PIIOraBTIC  rOBTRV.  w 

«  The  bm»  filto  b«th  bom^  leven  ; 

«  And  abe  «ho  hMl  aany  children  1«  become  (huUeM. 

^  JsHOVAH  kilkth  «id  maketh  a^Uve  ; 

**  He  ca»teth  down  to  hell,  and  lifteth  up.  ^ 

^  Jkhoyau  maketh  poor,  and  roaketh  rich } 

**  Depresseth,  and  also  exalteth.^ 

The  sublimer  poetry  seldom  indeed  adopts  this  style. 

Isaiah,  however,  by  means  of  it,  without  departing  from 

his  usual  dignity,  adds  greatly  to  the  sweetness  of  his 

composition  in  the  following  instances : 

tt  In  a  IHtle  anger  have  1  foraakeo  thee  ; 

^  But  with  great  mercies  will  I  receive  thee  again : 

<*  lo  a  abort  wrath  I  hid  my  face  for  a  moroeoi  Grom  thee  ; 

^  But  with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have  merey  on  tbea/*^ 

^  Behold  my  servants  shall  eat,  but  ye  shall  be  fiitnisbed ; 

<^  Bt-.hold  my  aervam»  sbi^l  drink,  but  ye  «ball  be  tblmy  } 

tt  Behold  my  scrvama  shall  vejeke,  but  ye  aball  be  confounded  ( 

*^  Behold  my  servants  shall  sing  aloud,  for  gladness  of  hdart ; 

<<  But  ye  ahall  ery  aloud  for  grief  of  heart ; 

^  And  in  the  anguish  of  a  broken  spirit  shall  ye  howl."^ 

There  is  a  third  species  of  parallelism,  in  which  the 
sentences  answer  to  each  other,  not  by  the  iteration  of 
the  same  image  or  sentiment,  or  the  opposition  of  theit 
contraries,  but  merely  by  the  form  of  construction.  To 
this,  which  may  be  called  the  Syntlietic  or  Constructive 
Parallelism,  may  be  referred  all  such  as  do  not  come 
within  the  two  former  classes :  I  shall  however  produce 
a  few  of  the  most  remarkable  instances : 

<*  The  law  of  Jbhoyau  is  perfect,  restoring  the  soul ; 

<*  The  testimony  of  Jbhovah  is  sore,  making  wise  the  simple  : 

M  The  precepts  of  Jehovah  are  rights  rejoicing  the  heart ; 

«  The  commandment  of  Jbb ovah  is  clear,  enlightening  the  eyes  e 

**  The  fear  of  Jbbovah  is  pore,  enduring  fior  ever  ; 

**€4Jr9m  pkmderiofh  that  is»  oa  «ocount  of  their  poverty,  as  in  Job 
iU.  ir."        H. 

«  1  Saic.  ii.  4—7.  compare  Luai  i.  52,  53. 

«^  ISAI.  liv.  7,  8.        H  44  IS4T.  Ixv.  13,  14. 


3«S  PllOPHETIC  POBTRY.  Lmet*^  Itt. 

*^  The  judgements  of  Jbhovah  are  tnitb^  they  «re  yM,  allogctfier. 

**  More  desirable  than  gold,  or  than  much  fine  gold ; 

^  Atid  sweeter  than  honey»  or  the  dropping  of  faoDey-coiiibt.''^ 

This  kind  of  parallelbm  generally  consists  of  verses 
somewhat  longer  than  usual,  of  which  there  are  not 
wanting  examples  in  the  prophets : 

<!  ^ow  hath  the  oppressor  ceased  !  the  estactress  of  gold  ceased  I 
*^  Jeqovah  hath  broken  the  staff  of  the  wicked,  the  sceptre  of  the 

«niiers. 
<<  He  that  smote  the  people  in  wrath  with  «  stroke  unremitted  ; 
^  He  that  ruled  the  nations  in  anger  is  persecuted,  and  none  bin-! 

**  dereth. 
^  The  whole  earth  is  at  rest,  is  quiet ;  they  burst  forth  into  a  joy- 

«  fu)  shout ; 
<*  Even  tb«  fir-trees  rejoice  over  thee,  the  cedars  of  Lebanon : 
«  Since  thou  art  fallen,  no  feller  hath  come  up  agabst  us. 
^  Hades  from  beneath  is  moved  bccauae  of  thooi  to  meet  thee  at 

M  thy  coming : 
^  He  rouseth  for  thee  the  mighty  dead,  all  the  great  chiefo  of  the 

«  earth ; 
?  He  maketh  tp  rifit  up  from  thei^  thrones  All  the  kii^  of  the 

"  nations/'^ 

Triplets  are  frequently  formed  of  tliis  kind  of  pandlelbm:^ 
^*  The  clouds  overflowed  with  water ; 
*<  The  atmosphere  resounded ; 
^  Thine  arrows  also  issued  forth ; 
M  The  voice  of  thy  thunder  was  in  the  skies  ; 
^  The  lightnings  enlightened  the  world ; 
^  The  earth  uembled  and  shook/'^^ 
f<  I  wilt  he  as  the  dew  to  Israel : 
V  He  shall  blossom  as  the  lily  n 
^  And  he  shall  stride  his  roots  like  Lebanon, 
^  His  suckers  shall  spread, 
M  And  bis  glory  shall  be  as  the  olive»tree, 
**  And  his  smell  as  Lebanon/'^' 

Frequently  one  line  or  member  contains  two  sentiments ; 

«7  Psalm  Ixxvii.  18,  19.  «  Hoi.  xiv.  6,  7. 

«  Fsiui  xfat.  a-lt  45  Uai.  xiv.  4—9- 


Lect.  19.  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  909 

tf  The  iMtloiHi  nged ;  the  kmgdoms  were  mored ; 

^  He  uttered  a  voice ;  the  earth  was  dissoWed  : 

H  Be  still»  and  know  that  I  am  God : 

M  I  will  be  exalted  io  the  nationsi  I  will  be  exalted  io  the  earth.''^^ 

<<  When  thou  passest  through  waters  I  am  with  thee ; 

^  And  through  rivers,  xhey  shall  not  overwhelm  thee  i 

^  When  thou  walkest  in  the  fire  thou  shalt  not  be  scorched ; 

<(  And  the  flame  shall  not  cleave  to  thee.*''^ 

There  is  a  peculiar  figure  which  is  frequently  made  use 
of  in  this  species  of  parallelism,  and  which  seems  alto- 
gether poetical :  that  is,  when  a  definite  number  is  put 
for  an  indefinite,  principally,  it  should  seem,  for  the  sake 
of  the  parallelism :  for  it  sometimes  happens,  that  the 
circumstances  afterwards  enumerated  do  not  accumtdy 
accord  with  the  number  specified : 

«« In  ttz  troubles  wHl  he  delWer  thee  ; 

^  And  in  seyen  there  shall  no  evil  touch  thee/"  I 

^  God  hath  said  once ; 

»  Twice  also  have  I  heard  the  same.'*'* 

That  frequently-repeated  passage  of  Amos  is  well^ 
known: 

**  For  three  transgressions  of  Damascus, 

«  And  for  four,  I  will  not  restore  it.*''* 

The  variety  in  the  form  of  this  synthetic  parallelism 
is  very  great,  and  the  degrees  of  resemblance  almost  in* 
finite :  so  that  sometimes  the  scheme  of  tlie  parallelism 
is  very  subtile  and  obscure,  and  must  be  developed  by 
art  and  ability  in  distinguishing  the  different  members 
of  the  sentences,  and  in  distributing  the  points,  rather 
than  by  depending  upon  the  obvious  construction.  How 
much  this  principle  pervades  the  Hebrew  poetry,  and 
how  difficult  of  explication  it  is^  may  in  some  de^ee  be 
illustrated  by  one  example*  This  appears  to  consbt  of 
a  single  line,  if  the  sentiment  only  be  considered : 

fo  Psalm  xlvi.  6  and  10.  ^  Isai.  xliii.  2, 

n  Job  t.  19.  «>  Psaxm  Izu.  12»  *>  Amos  L  3»  &c. 


aro  PROPHETIC  POETRY;  LWT,  M. 

(( I  alao  have  «noimad  my  King' on  SiiMi»  tkr  mnmtekiof  aigr  siic- 

But  the  general  form  and  natdre  of  the  Psahn  requires 
that  it  should  be  divided  into  two  parts  or  versicles ;  as 
if  it  were, 

M  I  alao  have  anointed  my  king ; 

M I  have  anointed  him  in  Ston»  the  mooolain  of  my  motudtf" 

Which  indeed  ^  Masoiites  seem  to  have  perceived  ia 
this  as  well  as  in  other  places.** 

In  this  peculiar  conformation»  or  parallelism  of  the 
sentences,  I  apprehend  a  consideiuble  part  of  the  He- 
brew metre  to  consist ;  though  k  is  not  improbable  thiA 
some  regard  was  also  paid  to  the  numbers  and  feet« 
But  of  this  particular  we  have  at  present  so  little  infor- 
mation,  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  determine,  whedi* 
er  it  were  modulated  by  the  ear  alone,  or  according  to 
any  settled  or  definite  rules  of  prosody.  Since  however 
this,  and  other  marks  or  vestiges,  as  it  were,  of  the  met- 
ileal  art  are  alike  extant  in  the  writings  of  the  prophets, 
and  in  the  books  which  are  commonly  allowed  to  be  po- 
etical, I  think  there  is  suflSicient  reason  to  rank  them  in 
the  same  class. 

Lest  I  should  seem  to  have  attributed  too  much  to 
this  conformation  of  the  sentences,  and  to  have  rashly 
embraced  an  opinion  not  supported  by  sufficient  author- 
ity, I  shall  beg  leave  to  quote  to  you  the  opinion  of  Aza- 
rias,  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  not  indeed  a  very  ancient,  but  a  very' 
approved  author.**  ••  Without  doubt,'*  says  he,  **  the 
^*  sacred  songs  have  certain  measures  and  proportions,' 

M  Pf  ALX  ii.  6. 

''  For  they  mark  tlie  word  ^3bo  with  the  distinctive  accent  ^thnae,  by 
whidi  they  generally  distingilUh  the  mtemhers  cf  the  dbtich».  See  Fajipr 
«Til.  r.  xxxxl  3.  zzxiii.  14.  cii.  8.  cxvL  U9»  tO,  U»  15»  16.  cxi^vti.  ^, 

Authm'M  MtU. 
<9  Mantifta  DiM^ert.  ad  libraiQ  eossi,  p.  418. 
\ 


Ucf.  If r  MlOPHKTtC  POETRT>  an 

<*  but  thiM  do  not  consist  in  the  anmberof  die  syllables 
^  perfect  or  imperfect,  according  to  the  fom  of  the 
^  modefn  verse ;  but  in  the  nuifiber  of  things,  snd  of 
f*  the  parts  of  thkigs ;  that  is,  the  subject  md  the  pre* 
^*  dicafte;  and  their  adjuncts,  in  every  sentence  and  pm* 
^  position.*'  (Which  words  of  Asanas  are,  however^ 
to  be  understood  with  some  limitation ;  nor  are  they  to 
be  literally  interpreted  according  te  their  sense  in  kgie* 
id  cnea^s,  for  he  prooecds,)  '^  Thus  a  phrase,  contmn- 
^  ing  two  paftp  of  i^  proposition,  consists  of  two  mea* 
*^  sures :  add  aaortier  containing  four,  and  they  become 
^  fMa:  measures :  another  again  contaiiiii^  three  parts 
**  of  a  prtiposition,  connsts  of  three  measures ;  add  to 
<*  it  another  of  the  like,  and  you  have  six  measunes :  for 
^*  you  are  not  to  number  the  words  or  syllables  but  the 
"  sentences.^  For  instsmce,  **  Thy  right  hand  O  Je- 
^  ROVAH,''  aocordiiMg  to  Azarias,  consists  of  two  terms, 
or  parts  of  a  proposition ;  to  which  is  connected,  *^  is 
*'  ail  glorious  in  power,"  consbting  likewise  of  two 
terms ;  diese  joined  together  make  a  Tetrameter.  The 
following  is  constructed  on  a  similar  principle  : 
<*  Thy  right-hand)  O  jEHovASt  hath  crushed  the  enemy .**'' 

Tbtts  in  the  following  proportions  there  are  three  terms 
or  measures, 

u  My«doctrii>e  shall»drop|  as-tbe-raia  ;   iny-word  shall-dialil»  as* 
"  the-dew."» 

•*  And  thus  joined  together  they  form  an  hexameter." 
In  &ct,  what  he  has  remarked  here  is  neither  groundless 
nor  altogether  just.  For  with  respect  to  many  passages, 
in  which  the  distribution  of  the  sentences  is  very  une- 
qual, and  in  which  the  propositions  have  but  little  corres- 
pondence with  each  other,  as  happens  frequendy  in  the 
Psalms,  we  must  have  recourse  to  some  other  solution; 

\       «7  ExoD.  XT.  6.  «*  DiVT.  xxxii.  2. 


Srs  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  D»ct.  19j 

and  when  the  sentences  are  most  regular  and  correct^ 
they  cannot  at  all  times  be  reduced  to  his  rules.  But 
although  the  present  question  does  not  depend  upon  this 
single  point,  no  man,  I  think,  who  reads  with  attention 
the  poetic  books,  and  especially  what  may  be  properly 
called  the  prophetic  part  of  them,  will  entertain  a  doubt 
that  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  distinguish  the 
system  of  the  verses. 

But  should  all  that  has  been  remarked  concenuqg  the 
members  and  divisions  of  the  sentences  appear  tig^t  and 
trifling  to  some  persons,  and  utterly  undeserving  any  la- 
bour or  attention ;  let  them  remember  that  nothing  can  be 
of  greater  avail  to  the  proper  understanding  of  any  writer, 
than  a  previous  acquaintance  with  both  his  general  char- 
acter, and  the  peculiarities  of  his  style  and  manner  c^ 
writing :  let  them  recollect  that  translators  afiKl  commen- 
tators have  fallen  into  errors  upon  no  account  more  fre- 
quently, than  for  want  c^  attention  to  this  article ;  and 
indeed,  I  scarcely  know  any  subject  which  promises 
more  copiously  to  reward  the  labour  of  such  as  are  stu- 
dious of  sacred  criticism,  than  this  one  in  particular.* 

f^  Professor  Michailib  has  subjoined  a  very  considerable  addition  to  this 
Lecture  on  the  use  of  the  paralleiisiD  in  the  explanation  of  Scriptave^  of 
which  he  produces  several  instances. 

In  Psalm  zxii.  3,  our  English  translation  runs  thus  :  '<  They  shall  come» 
^  and  shall  declare  hb  righteousness  unto  a  people  that  shall  be  bom,  that 
**  he  hath  done  thit  :**  and  in  the  Common  Prayer,  *'  unto^a  people  that 
**  shall  be  boai»  whom  the  Lard  hath  made**  The  professor  jusUy observes, 
that  the  word  which  is  here  rendered  ri^hteotuneee,  may,  with  equal  pro- 
priety, be  translated  truths  and  then,  by  the  assistance  of  the  parallelism, 
the  just  sense  is  restored,  and  the  passage  will  run  thus  : 
**  They  shall  come,  and  shall  declare  his  truth ; 
*'  To  a  people  that  shall  be  bom  Cthey  ehaU  declare  J  that  ho  hath  perform* 

«  ed  tV' 
That  is,  that  he  hath  fulfilled  his  promises,  and  divine  predictions. 

PsALK  XXV.  13.    The  literal  translation  is, 
**  His  soul  shall  rest  in  good, 
'*  And  his  seed  shall  inherit  the  land,^ 


Lbct.  \9.  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  il7Z 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  in  what  sense  we  are  to  take  the  former  part  of  the 
sentence.    It  may  either  be  to  tleep  tecure  from  danger  ;   or,  to  enjay  eate 
andplentyf  i.  e.  to  remain  tn  a  protperouo  etate  /  or  lastly  it  may  indicate  lAs 
otaie  after  death,  er  a  happineeo  beyond  the  grave.    This  last  meaning  the 
professor  prefers  on  account  of  the  parallelism,  since  the  corresponding 
member  of  the  sentence,  At*  oeed  ohatt  inherit  the  land,  is  undoubtedly  among 
those  blessing!  which  the  Deity  promises  to  the  righteous  after  death. 
PsAKH  cxxz.  90.    Aocofiiing.to  oar  tranftlation  t 
**  For  they  speak  against  thee  wickedly» 
**  And  th'me  enemies  take  thf  name  in  yain.*^ 
The  professor  thinks  that  naea  Hehtroe  may  be  translated  to  profett  falsely 
or  to  perf^tre  themselves.    The  sense  of  the  second  line  will  therefore  run 
thus  :    Who  twear  faUeiy  iff  thy  citiee,  i.  e.  by  Siohem,  Bethlehem,  Jems». 
lem,  &c.  by  which  it  was  customary  for  the  Jews  to  swear,  as  is  plain  from 
Matt.  y.  35,  and  this  interpretation  not  only  is  such  as  would  be  suggesti> 
ed  by  a  proper  attention  to  the  parallelism»  but  is  perfectly  conespondcBl 
to  the  context : 

**  I  would  that  thou  wouldest  slay  the  wicked,  O  God  ; 
**  And  that  the  men  of  blood  should  depart  from  me  ! 
**  Who  use  thy  name  only  ibr  deceit, 
^  And  swesr  finely  by  thy  cities. 
•«  Do  not  I  hate  them,  who  hate  thee,**  8cc. 
PsAUC  cxxxvii.  9. 

*'  Who  giveth  to  the  beast  his  food, 
**  And  to  the  young  ravens  which  ciy.*^ 
Move  agneable  to  the  Hebrew  idiom  thu», 
**  Who  giveth  to  the  bea$t  his  food, 
*<  And  to  the  young  ravens  that  for  which  they  cry.^ 
But  tile  most  complete  examples  of  the  use  of  the  parallelism  will  $e 
Ibond  in  bur  AlitlK>r*s  Prdttii^uuay  Diwertiit]oi&  to  hia  Isaiah.    T. 


35 


27«  GENERAL  CHARACTERISTICS         Lect.  2€, 

in  the  prophetic  discipline  and  precepts,  nor  afterwards 
lived  conformably  to  the  manner  of  the  prophets.  I  do 
not,  however,  comprehend  how  this  can  diminish  his 
claim  to  a  divine  mission  and  inspiration ;  it  may  pos^- 
bly  enable  us,  indeed,  to  assign  a  reason  for  the  dissimi* 
larity  between  the  style  of  Daniel  and  that  of  the  other 
prophets,  and  for  its  possessing  so  little  of  the  diction 
and  character  of  poetry,  which  the  rest  seem  to  have  im^ 
bibed  in  common  from  the  schools  and  discipline  in 
which  they  were  educated.* 

There  occur,  moreover,  in  the  writings  of  the  proph- 
ets, certain  passages,  which  although  poetical,  yet  do 
not  properly  belong  to  this  species  of  poetry.  I  a&ude 
to  some  instances  in  Isaiah,  Habbakuk,  and  Ezekiel, 
which  appear  to  constitute  complete  poems  of  diftrent 
kinds,  odes  as  well  as  ^elegies.  These  also  being  ex- 
cepted, all  the  other  predictions  of  the  prophets  (includ- 
ing such  as  are  extant  in  the  historical  books,  most  of 
which  have  been  occasionally  quoted  in  the  course  of 

s  We  may  add  the  decline  of  Uie  Hebrew  langvage^  vhich  in  the  Baby- 
lonish ci^tivity  lost  all  its  grace  and  elegance.  Nor  among  so  many  evils. 
vhich  befel  their  nation,  is  it  surprising  that  they  should  have  neither 
leisure  nor  spirit  for  the  cultivation  of  the  fine  arts  '  Besides,  when  a  Ian» 
guage  is  confined  chiefly  to  the  lowest  of  the  people»  it  is  hardly  to  he  ex- 
pected that  it  shaul4  produce  any  poets  worthy  of  the  name.  Le^  ^^y  iiian 
compare  wliat  was  written  in  Hebrew  before  and  after  the  Babylonish  ex- 
lie,  and  1  apprehend  he  will  perceive  no  less  evident  marks  of  dec&y  and 
nun  than  in  the  LAtin  language.  Wherefore  it  a|^>ears  to  n^  very  im«v 
prob|U»le»  that  any  psalms,  which  breathe  a  truly  sublime  and  poetical 
spii'it,  were  composed  after  the  return  from  Babylon,  excepting  perh^» 
that  elegant  piece  of  poetry  the  cxxxviith.  Certainly  nothii^  can  be  more 
absurd  than  the  error,  into  which  some  commentators  have  fallen,  in  at- 
tributing some  of  the  sublimest  of  tlie  psalms  to  Ezra,  than  whose  style 
npthing  can  be  meaner  or  more  ungi*aceful.  Indeed  I  have  myself  some 
doubts  concerning  the  cxxxixth,  which  I  am  more  inclined  to  attribute  ta 
Jeremiah,  or  some  contemporary  of  his  ;  and  I  think  the  taste  and  spirit  of 
the  bard,  who  s.inig  so  sweetly  elsewhere  the  miseries  of  his  nation,  may 
Very  plainly  be  di%ce;neJ  in  it.     M. 


LscT,  19.       OF  THE  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  UTT 

Aese  lectures,  form  a  whole,  and  constitute  that  partic» 
ular  species  of  poetry,  which  I  distinguish  by  the  ap- 
pellation of  prophetic  I  shall  now  endeavour,  in  the 
first  place,  to  o&r  to  your  consideration  such  a  descrip- 
don  of  this  species  of  poetry,  as  may  serve  to  distin- 
guish it  from  the  rest ;  and  afterwards  to  delineate  the 
peculiar  character  of  each  of  the  prophets,  as  far  as  may 
be  consistent  with  the  object  of  these  Lectures. 

The  genius  of  the  prophetic  poetry  is  to  be  explored 
by  a  due  attenticm  to  the  nature  and  design  of  prophecy 
itself.  The  immediate  design  of  all  prophecy  is  to  in- 
form or  amend  those  generations  that  precede  the  events 
predicted,  and  it  is  usually  calculated  either  to  excite 
their  lears  and  ^j^rehensions,  or  to  afford  them  conso- 
lation. The  means  which  it  en^loys  for  the  accom- 
plishtnent  of  these  effects,  are  a  general  amplification  of 
the  subject,  whether  it  be  of  the  menacing  or  consola- 
tory kind,  copious  des€9riptions,  diversified,  pompous, 
and  sublime ;  in  this  also  it  necessarily  avoids  too  great 
a  degree  of  exactness,  and  too  formal  a  display  of  the 
minuter  circumstances ;  rather  employing  a  vague  and 
general  style  of  description,  expressive  only  of  the  na- 
ture and  magnitude  of  the  subject :  for  prophecy  in  its  v 
very  nature  implies  some  degree  of  obscurity,  and  is  ^^>/' 
always,  as  the  apostle  elegantly  expresses  it,  *^  like  a 
**  light  glimmering  in  a  dark  place,  until  the  day  dawn, 
**  and  the  day-star  arise."^  But  there  is  also  a  further 
use  and  intention  of  prophecy,  which  regards  those  who 
live  after  the  prediction  is  accomplished,  and  that  is,  the 
demonstration  and  attestaticvi  which  it  affords  of  the  di- 
vine veracity  :  this  evidently  appears  to  demand  a  dif- 
ferent form  of  enunciation ;  for  correct  language,  apt 
imagery,  and  an  exact  display  of  circumstances,  are  pe- 

»2  Prr.il  9. 


97S  GENERAL  CHARACTERISTICS         Lsev^SO. 

cuUarly  adapted  to  this  purpose.  Sinee^  however,  k 
very  plain  description  would  totally  withdraw  the  veil 
of  obscurity,  a  more  sparing  use  of  thb  liberty  of  par- 
ticularizing is  frequently  adequate  to  that  purpose ;  for 
the  particular  notification  of  one  or  two  circanstances, 
united  with  a  general  propriety  in  the  imagery,  the 
proper  adaptation  of  which  shall  appear  after  the  event, 
will  afford  an  accumulation  of  evidence  that  cannot  be 
withstood,  as  might  be  demonstrated  in  a  number  of 
instances.^  The  prophetic  st3rie,  therefore,  is  chiefty 
constructed  on  the  former  principle ;  that  is,  it  com* 
monly  prefers  a  general  mode  of  amplifying  and  elevat» 
ing  the  subject,  rarely  and  cautiously  descending  to  a 
circumstantial  detaiU 

Tho-e  is  also  another  particular,  which  must  not  be' 
omitted.  Prophecy  frequently  takes  in,  at  a  sin^e 
glance,  a  variety  of  events,  distinct  both  in  nature  and' 
time,  and  pursues  the  extreme  and  principal  design' 
through  all  its  different  gradations.  From  this  cause 
also  it  principally  employs  general  ideas,  and  expresses 
them  by  imagery  of  established  use  and  acceptation,  fi)r 
these  are  equally  capable  of  comprehending  the  general 
scope  of  the  divine  counsels,  and  of  accompanying  the 
particular  progressions  of  circumstances,  situations,  and 
events ;  they  may  be  easily  applied  to  the  intermediate 
relations  and  ends,  but  must  be  more  accurately  weighed 
and  proportioned  to  equal  the  magnitude  and  importance 
of  the  ultimate  design. 

If  such  be  the  genius  of  prophecy ;  if  it  be  chiefiy 
employed  in  describing  only  the  exterior  lineaments  of 
events,  and  in  depicting  and  embellishing  general  effects; 
it  will  not  be  difficult  to  understand  with  how  much  ad* 
vantage  it  may  make  use  of  the  assistance  and  nilnistra- 

4  See  Lcct.  IX.  conclusi^ 


LsoT.  sa        OP  THE  PROPHETIC  t>OETItY.  tT» 

tioti  of  poetry^  and  in  particular  of  the  parabolic  style  $ 
die  nature  of  which,  as  I  have  already  copiously  stated, 
is  to  afford  an  abundance  and  variety  of  imagery  of  es» 
tafolished  use  and  acceptation,  from  which  every  subject 
may  receive  the  most  ample  and  the  most  proper  embel- 
lishments» Hence  too  we  may  eaaly  collect  the  pecuU 
iar  character  c£  the  poetry. 

This  species  of  poetry  is  more  ornamented,  more 
splendid,  and  more  florid  than  any  other.  It  abounds 
more  in  imagery,  at  least  in  that  species  of  imagery 
which,  in  the  parabolic  sty4e,  is  of  common  and  estate 
Ushed  acceptation,  and  which,  by  means  of  a  settliNl  an- 
alogy always  preserved,  is  transferred  from  certain  and 
definite  objects,  to  express  indefinite  and  general  ideas* 
Of  all  the  images  proper  to  the  parabolic  style,  it  most 
frequently  introduces  those  which  are  taken  from  natural 
objects  and  from  sacred  history  :  it  abounds  most  in 
metapbcurs,  allegories,  comparisons,  and  even  in  copious 
and  diffuse  descriptions*  It  possesses  all  that  genuine 
enthusiasm,  which  is  the  natural  attendant  on  inspira- 
tion ;  it  excels  in  the  brightness  of  imagination  and  in 
cleamess  and  energy  of  diction,  and  consequently  rises 
lo  an  uncommon  pitch  of  sublimity  :  hence  also  it  often 
is  very  happy  in  the  expression  and  delineation  of  the 
fiassions,  though  more  commonly  employed  in  the  ex- 
citing of  them ;  this  indeed  is  its  immediate  object,  over 
lhis.it  presides  as  its  peculiar  province. 

In  respect  to  the  order,  disposition,  and  symmetry  df 
a  perfect  poem  of  the  prophetic  kind,  I  do  not  know  of 
any  certain  definition,  which  will  admit  of  general  appli- 
cation. Naturally  free,  and  of  too  ardent  a  spirit  to  be 
confined  by  rule,  it  is  usually  guided  by  the  nature  of 
the  subject  only,  and  the  impulse  of  divine  inspiration. 
There  are  not  wantiDg,  it  is  true^  instances  of  great  ele- 


880  GENERAL  CHARACTERISTICS         Lbct.  iQi 

gance  and  perfection  in  these  particulars.  Among  the 
shorter  prophecies  I  need  only  mention  those  of  Balaam^ 
each  of  which  is  possessed  of  a  certain  accuracy  of  ar- 
rangement and  symmetry  of  form ;  they  opem  with  an 
elegant  exordium,  they  proceed  with  a  methodical  c(mi- 
tinuation  of  the  subject,  and  are  wound  up  with  a  full 
and  graceful  conclusion.  There  are  many  similar  in* 
stances  in  the  books  of  the  prophets,  and  particularly  in 
Isaiah,  which  deserve  the  highest  commendation,  and 
may  with  propriety  be  classed  with  the  most  perfect  and 
regular  specimens  of  poetry.  I  shall  select  for  your  con- 
sideration one  example  from  that  most  accomplished 
writer,  which  is  embellished  with  all  the  most  striking 
ornaments  of  poetry  :  from  this  instance  I  shall  not  only 
demonstrate  with  what  accuracy  the  propheticMuse  some* 
times  preserves  the  proper  order  and  arrangement  of  the 
parts  and  circumstances ;  but  I  shall  be  enabled,  at  the 
same  time,  to  illustrate  most  of  those  positions,  which  I 
have  now  laid  down,  concerning  the  nature  and  genius 
of  the  prophetic  poetry.  Such  an  illustration  will  prob- 
ably be  not  unnecessary  ;  since  it  is  to  be  apprehended, 
that  what  has  been  remarked  only  in  general  terms  upon 
so  subtile  and  difficult  a  subject,  may,  without  the  aid 
of  example,  appear  not  a  little  perplexed  and  obscure. 

The  thirty -fourth  and  thirty- fifth  chapters  of  Isaiah 
contain  a  remarkable  prophecy.  It  is  a  simple,  regular» 
and  perfect  poem,  consisting  of  two  parts  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  subject,  which,  as  to  its  general  proper- 
ties, is  explained  with  the  utmost  perspicuity.  The  first 
part  of  the  prophecy  contains  a  denunciation  of  extraor- 
dinary punishment,  indeed  nothing  short  of  total  destruc- 
tion against  the  enemies  of  the  church  of  God ;  and  after- 
wards, in  consequence  of  this  event,  a  full  and  complete 
restoration  is  promised  to  die  church  itself.    The  proph- 


hkcr.fOi       Of  THE  PROPHETIC  POETRY.  281 

et  introduces  the  subject  by  a  magnificent  exordium, 
invoking  universal  nature  to  the  observation  of  these 
events,  in  which  the  whole  world  should  seem  to  be  in<- 
terested: 

a  Draw  near,  0  ye  nations,  and  hearken ;   . 
*^  And  attend  unto  roe,  O  ye  people  ! 
tt  Let  the  earth  hear,  and  the  fulness  thereof  j 
^  The  world,  and  aU  that  spring  from  it*" 

He  then  publishes  the  decree  of  Jehovah  concerning 
the  extirpation  of  all  those  nations  against  whom  **  his 
"  wrath  is  kindled  :'*  and  he  amplifies  this  act  of  ven- 
geance and  destruction  by  an  admirable  selection  of 
splendid  imagery,  all  of  which  is  of  the  same  kind  with 
that  which  is  made  use  of  by  the  prophets  upon  similar 
occasions ;  the  nature  of  which  is  to  exaggerate  the 
force,  the  magnitude,  atrocity,  and  importance  of 
the  impending  visitation ;  whilst  nothing  determinate 
is  specified  concerning  the  manner,  the  time,  the  place, 
or  other  minute  circumstances.  He  first  exhibits  that 
truly  martial  picture  of  slaughter  and  destruction  after 
a  victory : 

^  And  their  sUin  shall  be  cast  out ; 

^  And  from  their  carcasses  their  stench  shall  ascend ; 

<<  And  the  mountains  shall  melt  down  with  their  blood."* 

He  then  takes  a  bolder  flight,  and  illustrates  his  descrip«- 
tion  by  imagery  borrowed  from  the  Mosaic  chaos 
(which  is  a  common  source  of  figurative  language  oa 
tliese  occasions,  and  is  appropriated  to  the  expression 
of  the  downfal  of  nations ;)  and,  as  if  he  were  display*- 
ing  the  total  subversion  of  the  universe  itself: 

^  And  all  the  host  of  heaven  ahail  wastfi  away ; 
»  And  the  heavens  shall  be  rolled  up  like  a  scroll : 
^  And  all  their  host  shall  wither ; 

*  Chap,  xxxiv.  1.  ♦  Vcr.  5. 

36 


UM%  GENERAL  CHARACTERISTIC»        tm^m^ 

*^  As  tbjK  withered  leaf  droppeth  from  the  fiae» 

*«  And  as  the  bii^l^ted  fruit  from  the  fig  tree."^ 

A  diflfcrent  ima^  is  immediatfly  introduced ;  a  solemQ 
sacrifice  is  celebrated,  arid  an  unconFimon  number  of  vic<^ 
tims  are  displayed  t  J  £  h  o  v  a  ir  himself  takes  a  part  in  this 
magnificent  scene,  and  every  circumstance  is  brought 
directly  before  our  eyes : 

«  For  my^^ocd  i$  imde  baet  in  tli0  hatfttm  ; 

«  Behold,  on  Edom  il  «hall  descend  i 

«  And  on  the  people  justly  by  me  deiFoted  to  destruction  v 

M  The  sword  of  JxHOTAir  is  satiated  with  blood ; 

«  It  is  pampered  with  fiit : 

«  With  ^e  blood  of  lam^  and  of  goats  *, 

^  With  the  fat  pf  the  reins  of  rams ; 

M  For  Jbbotab  celebrateth  a  sacrifice  in  Botsra, 

^  And  a  great  slaughter  in  the  land  of  Edom."*^ 

The  goats,  the  rams,  the  bulls,  the  flocks,  and  other 
animals,  which  ace  mentioned  in  this  passage  and  those, 
which  follow^  are  common^  used  by  the  prophets  ta 
denote  the  haught}%  ferocious,  and  insolent  tyrants  and 
chiefr  of  those  nations,  which  were  inimical  to  God. 
On  the  same  principle  we  may  explain  the  allusion  ta 
Botxra  and  Idumea»  a  city  and  nation  in  the  highest  de-^ 
gree  obnoxious  ta  the  people  of  God.  These,  howev-* 
cr,  the  prophecy  seems  only  slightly  or  cursorily  to 
glance  at :  the  phraseology  is  indeed  of  that  kind  wfaidi 
expresses  generals  by  particulars ;  or  consists,  as  I  for» 
meriy  remarked,  of  a  figure  taken  fiom  a  deteroiiuate 

*  Ver.  5,  6:  In  this,  prophecy  Edom  U  particularly  marked  out  as  sft 
object  of  the  pivine  vengeance.  The  principal  provocAtiou  of  Edoa  wtak 
their  insulting  the  Jews  in  their  distress,  and  joining  against  theopfc  with 
their  enemies  the  Oiakleans  :  See  Amos  i.  IL  Ezkk.  zxv.  1^  jjlzv.  15. 
Pb.  cxxzvii.  7.  Acootditsf^ly  the  Edamitet  were»  together  with  die  raat  of 
tiie  neighbouring  nations,  rav^iged  and  laid  w:;ste  by  Nebudiadncszar : 
See  Jke.  xxx.  15—86.  Mal.  i.  2,  J,  4i  and  see  Maiijihax  Can,  CA»f^  Smd 
.<&viii.  who  calls  this  the  age  of  the  deftcvction  of  cities.  Bp.  Lowtb*»^ 
Uaiafii  ch.  xxsir.  JVbfes.    T. 


|(Mb«  MU      GP  VMS'  fioniETic  Mtti'mr. 

aiid'deftfiite  obfoot,  «nd  I7  «Mlogy  Applied  in  a  more 

«xtenMve  sense;  in  which  respect  tlieMiy  words  which 

tie  made  use  of  lialrein  thb  place'a  peeulisr  form  and 

propriety/    But  the  same  circiuRstance  is  again  dc- 

acribed  by  a  succession  of  new  and  splendid  images 

borrowed  from  the    overthrow  c^  Sodo«i,  which,  as 

was  formerly  demonstrated,  may  be  tiermed  one  of  tlie 

common  places  of  the  Mspired  poets  t 

^  For  it  is  the  day  of  Tcngeance  to  Jkhot  ah  ; 

«  The  yemr  of  recdttiprnse  to  the  defender  of  ihe  came  of  8ioD. 

M  And  her  torrents  shall  be  turned  into  pitchi 

«  And  her  dust  into  sulphur.; 

<f  And  her  whole  land  shall  become  burning  pitch  x 

^  By  rifght  or  by  rfay  it  shall  hot  be  eitinguished  ; 

**  For  ever  ahall  her  smoke  ascend  ; 

^  From  i^eneraiion'  to  generation  she  shall  lie  desert ; 

^  To  everlasting  ages  no  one  shall  pass  UiroMgh  ber/'^* 

Lastly,  the  same  event  is  prefigured  under  the  image  oF 
a  vast  and  solitary  desert,  to  which,  according  to  the  di» 
vine  decree,  Aat  region  is  devoied*^  Tki»  descripiioa 
the  prophet  afterwards  improves,  diversifies,  and  en- 
brges,  by  the  addition  of  several  important  circum.- 
stances,  all  whicbi  however,  hav«  a  certafiA  ontttogy  an 
connection  with  each  other. 

The  other  part  of  the  poem  is  conatrutied  upon  simi^ 
hx  principles,  and  exhttiits  a  beautiful  contrafist  to  the 
preceding  scene.  The  imagery  possesses  ev^ry  poasi-* 
bie  advantage  of  ornament  and  variety ;  it  is,  like  the 
former,  altogether  of  a  gener^  kind,  and  of  extensive 
application ;  but  the  meaning  is  plain  aAd  perspicuous* 
Many  of  the  preceding  jmagies  ane  taken  from  the  sa* 

•  See  I^owm  and  ViTaineA  on  the  place,  and  on  chap.  Ixiii.  t. 
2*  Vene  8,  9,  10. 

M  Verse  11,  Stc-^ycrse  16.  "  Pdr  «nrr  ^  three  MSS,  hare  mn*  *•:$ 
two  others  have  it  m  a  corrected  hand.  The  Seventy  also  read  mrr."  1^ 
Two  MSS.  Erfurty  read  vri    See  Bib.  Heb.  Michaxus  on  the  place. 


ctcdhisiory;  the £^^g are afaiiMt miiidgr fr^ 
objects  oCnature  3 

M  Tbe  dKMn Mi4  «ke  wMtesfadl  be  ^lad  ; 

<«  And  the  ^ilderneM  shall  rejoice  and  fieurbb  r 

^*  Like  tbe  rose  %\n\\  it  beautifttUy  flourish  $ 

^  And  the  well-watered  plain  of  Jordan  shall  also  rejoice  ; 

<<  And  the  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  be  given  unto  it»' 

'<  The  beauty  of  Carinel  and  of  Sharon  ; 

«  These  shall  behold  tbe  glory  of  Jjueovah^ 

«'  The  majesty  of  ojur  God/'"    .  ;    . 

I  formerly  remarked  the  extensive  application  of  Leba-i 
non  and  Carmel  in  a  figurative  sense,^  and  that  they  are 
aometinnes  expressive  even  of  the  divine  glory  and  ma- 
jesty.^^  The  cultivation  and  watering  of  a  barren  and 
rocky  soil  is  so  frequently,  I  might  say  invariably^  in 
the  paraboUc  style  employed  to  denote  the  <Uvine  gmec 
and  spiritual  endowments,  that  there  is  no  necessity  for 
any  further  explanation  of  this  sythbol ;  nor  is  the  sue* 
ceediog  imagery,  which,  according  to  a  similar  analogy, 
seems  to  iUustmte  the  same  event,  less  dear  and  per- 
spicuous. 

>  To  him  whoattmtively  reads  and  considers  the  whole 
poem,  the  ordei*  and  arrangement  of  the  subject  will  be 
more  fully  apparent  The  passages  which  I  have  noted 
will,  however,  I  apprehend,  be  sufficient  to  demonstrate 
tiie  species  of  iniagery,  the  style,  and  colours  most  con* 
genial  to  the  prophetic  Muse ;  they  will  also,  I  flatter 
myself,  be  sufficient  in  some  measure  to  explain  tile 
manner  in  which  she  contrives  to  display,  in  the  strong- 
est colours,  the  general  nature,  magnitude,  and  impor- 
tance of  events ;  and  at  tbe  same  time  to  leave  the  par- 
ticular situations,  the  intermediate  gradations,  and  all  tbe 
minuter  circumstances  concealed  under  the  bold  and 
prominent  features  of  the  description,  till  the  accom-: 

«Chap.  xxxv.  1,  9.  »  See  Lcct  VI.  M  See  Lcct.  VIUv 


piihoientiof-  4w  praiktion/  There  are  indeed  one  or 
two  paaaages  in  this  prophecy  which  wootd  serve  to  iU 
Ittstrate  this  position  1^  in  the  rest,  Ihe  fwconstances 

1'  See  chap.  xxxv.  4,  5«  6,  8.  Which,  without  a  doubt»  in  their  proxi* 
mate  sense  relate  to  the  first  coining  of  the  Messiah ;  to  the  miracles  which 
vere'perfonnul  by  him ;  to  the  preacbing  of  the  Goipel  $  and  the  efiusioa 
of  the  Holy  Qpirit.  |n  the  Qtb,.  the  al>surd  interpunctualion,  rendered  sa^ 
cred  by  the  authority  qf  the  Ma^orites,  creates  a  degree  of  almost  impene- 
trable obscurity.  •  It  IB,  however,  a  true  pentacolon,  and  ought  tp  be  dis- 
^bttted  ka  tbia  maimer : 

i^AndanbigbvayahalLbetbcMi  . 

"  And  it  shall  be  called  the  way  of  ho^jness : 
'  **  So  unclean  person  shall  pass  through  it :  ' 
f*'But  be  bimidf  ihaU  be  with  them,  wtdking  hi  tha  way, 

«<  'And  the  foolish  shall  not  err  thei«in.'f 

•  > 

Hi,  that  is,  our  God,,  spoken  of  before  in  the  4th  Terse ;  «r  tnnfum  cv  ifm, 
fou  uonk^  wou  ifykhn  tp  ttfiof»  Thus  'the  C^Hix.  the  Stb.  the  VvLe.  and  some 
of  the.mofea  modem  translators  hare  distinguished  them.  ViTmiFai,  who 
is  by  i^  the  most  learned  of  the  commentators,  but  too  much  a  slave  to 
the^thority  of  the  Ifamites,  has  in  vain  attempted  a  refutation  of  them^ 

HouBieASf  remarks,  that  the  Seventy  in  the  3d  verse,  for  p^i  read  rrv» 
conccninig  which  reading,  conceiving  it  to  be  of  considerable  importance, 
IcoDSttlted  Hr.  Ksonicott.  Thpiigb  the  manuscript  copiea,  boweTer«  aibrd- 
ed  no  assistance  towards  the  restoration  of  this  word,  he  very  kindly  com- 
municated some  critical  remarks  upon  the  whole  chapter,  which  I  shall 
endeavour  to  explain  with. «9  much  brevity  aa  possible. 

Ver.  1.  <*  Jewmm  (they  wiU  rcjoicep)  The  old  venkma  do  not  allow  of 
^  the  suffix.  Perhaps  the  D  (m)  may  faaye  been  added  from  the  begmning 
^  of  the  next  word.  It  was  customary  in  the  Hebrew  manuscripts,  in  or- 
f'  der  to  fill  up  one  line  to  take  the  initial  letter  or  letters  of  the  word  that 
^  began  the  next,  which,  however,  they  failed  not  to  copy  in  its  proper 
«place.^ 

.  Ter.  3.  It  i«  well  observed  by  Houbigant,  that  the  Seventy  read  Ais  dlf- 
knu^,  §oft,  instead  of  Giitt$'Wt4%mm  (with  joy  and  singing)  they  certainly 
read  other  words,  which  they  rendered  ra  tfmfM  r«  Ufiwnt  (the  desert  plaoes 
of  Jordan)  i^  the  same  manner  also  the  ArJbic ;  and  this  reading  seems 
most  perfectly  to  agree  inth  the  dctignof  the  prophet.  He  thinkait  ougbt 
to  be  read  Qaiai  Mtikm  (the  manhes  of  Jovdan:)  I  would  myself  prefer 
Gidah  Jordtm  (the  bank  of  Jordan.)  In  the  present  reading  there  is  neithi  r 
meaning  nor  construction,  for  an  antecedent  is  wanting,  to  the  word  rf> 
(to  it)  '*  The  word  Oedot  occurs  in  four  places,  and  thrioe  is  joined  to 
V  Jordan,  (as  in  this :)  and  though  the  singular  Gidah  does  not  elsewhere 
\\  occur,  it  is  fi>und  in  the  Cbaldee  Oida  (a  bank.)** 

•'(isllSft.tenbKadY'-    If  this  be  admitted,  the  versioii  will  ^, 


QBKERAL  CHAHACTERmiCS'       LBtTi  »J 

Md  progms  of  the  particular  cireiits  are  ftotjetunSM-: 
ed ;  for  tfak  prophecy  k  evidently  one  ci  dioae  wfaioh 
are  not  yet  completely  folfiUed,  arid  of  which  the  greater 
part  at  least  is  yet  deposited  in  die  secret  counsels  of  the 
Most  High. 

That  I  may  not  however  condude  this  lecture  wid^ 
out  exMbiting  the  form  of  some  prophetic  poem  com* 
plete  in  all  parts,  I  have  selected  for  diis  puipose  one  of 
the  profrfiecaes  of  Balaam^  which  I  so  taCely  mendoMd^ 
and  which  in  the  course  of  tiiese  lectures  h^re  more  thm 
once  deservedly  attracted  oqr  attention :  for  indeed  I  do 
not  know  that  the  whole  scope  of  the  Hebrew  poetry 
contains  any  thing  more  exquisite  or  perfi^ct.  This, 
which  is  at  present  under  our  consideration^  abounds  in 
ffy  and  splendid  imagery  copied  immediately  from  the 


**  And  tlMm  «1m  ahiat  eawlft,  O  Imi^  of  Airditf  » 
**  Tbe  glory  of  Leliaooii  iJulII  be  f^ven  unto  thae.*' 
**  Bntperiiaps  the  true  reading  iMy  W  ve-thagitU  tt  (nd  tliou  ibslt  exalt, 
^  O  bank ;)  for  the  final  Pe  ia  oflen  so  written,  that  it  can  scaroely  be  dis- 
^  tinguiahed  from  the  Tau  .•  aa  ia  the  case  with  thia  aame  word  in  two  filSS." 
Ver.  7.  **  MaUtxah  (a  eo«ching-plaee}  ahould,  it  a|ipear8,  be  in  the  plv- 
'<  ral  to  agree  with  ihmum  (dragons :)  our  moat  ancient  MS.  has  mem  Ibr 
^  kef  and  another  baa  rabiixah,  retaimng  the  Jod,  though  in:  a  difierent 
*'  place.    The  meaning,  however,  of  thb  verto  is ; 

"  In  the  place,  which  waa  inhabited  by  dragons, 

'*  Shall  grass  spring  up  instead  of  reeds  and  rushes." 

Ver.  a  **  Not  only  the  %r.  but  also  fourteen  MBS.  omit  the  second  w- 
*'  demek,  Houbigant  thinks,  that  fiir  M  we  ought  to  read  nb ;  and  right- 
"  ly,  for  the  auffix  in  the  &Uowin|r  ▼ev>^  wihi^  r^tes  tslfaeaame  is  mas- 
'*  cuiine,  laav." 

Yer.  9.  ^  After  veJ^ideck»  (diall  wsjk)  the  woid  them  fthePeJ  seems 
''  wanting:  it  is  ndded  by  the  exx  and  the  Aw.**    K. 

YiTximA  approves  of  the  oprnk»  of  the  GhaMeo  pttNpbtwt,  who  in  ver. 
Bp  thua  translates :  **  and  those  who  pasa  that  way  shall  not  ikint**  He 
however  has  not  embraced  the  reading,  ibr  it  is  plain  he  did  not  perceive 
in  what  manner  it  had  been  formed  from  the  Hebrew  text  The  CniiAXiH 
paraphrast  douUess,  instead  of  *vah  Kxm  read  ion  mV  This  remark  was 
furnished  me,  with  many  otheti,  by  a  distinguiiAied  character,  whose  great 
cniditiim  neflceU  honour  upon  a.  very  exalted  sltniiftioa.    ,iliMs»V -JVt». 


lbct.  so.      of  the  prophetic  poBTRr.         ur 

tablet  of  netufc ;  and  b  duefly  eonspicuous  for  Ae 
glowing  ekgance  of  the  style,  and  die  form  aod  diversi- 
ty  of  the  fignres.  Though  every  attenpt  todiapby  dm 
beauties  of  the  Hebrew  imi^ery  in  the  poetry  of  anoth- 
er language  must  fall  gready  short  of  the  design,  it  wilt 
yet  give  a  little  vasiety  to  omriStiidini  to  intersperse 
them  occasionally  with  modem  verse*  On  these  occa- 
sions, as  indeed  on  every  other,  I  must  rely  upon  the 
candour  of  this  audienoe  to  acoepl^kir  good  past  dMt  wil* 
Ik^  tribute  of  my  fiiint  endeavours*^ 

In  proud  mgvnj  thy  tflnt»  expand,. 
Q  iiMQlt  o^sr  the  sv^eat  hmd  z- 
A»  tbe  broad  valss  in  prospect  riiOy 
As  gardens  by  the  waters  spread. 
As  cedars  of  majestic  sise. 
Thai  shiide  tbe  sscred  foumun's  head. 

Thy  torreau  sHalT  tie  earth  o'erftow> 
O'erwhelming^eoch  obdurate  fooi 
In  vain  tbe  mind  essays  to  trace 
The  glories  of  thy  countless  racey 
In  vain  thy  king's  imperial  state 
Shall  haughty  Agag  emulate. 

His  mighty  God's  protecting  hand 
Led  him  from  Pharaoh's  tyrant  land. 
Strong  as  the  beast  that  rules  the  plaiq^ 
What  power  his  fiary  sdalL  restrain  I 
Who  dares  resist»  his  ibrce  shall  fisoL 
The  nations  see,  and  trembling  fly, 
^Qr  in  th'  unequal  conflict  die ; 
And  glut  with  blood  his  thirsty  steel. 

With  aspect  keen  be  mark'd  his  preyf^ 
He  couch*4-«In  secret  ambush  lay<-«» 
Who  shall  tbe  fttrious  lion  dare  ? 
Who  shall  unmov'd  his  terrors  see  ? 
«-^Blestf  who  for  thee  exalts  his  prayer ! 
And  curst  the  wrctchj  who  curscth  thee  I  , 

^  See  NvMB.  lauv.  5— •> 


LECTURE  XXi. 

THB  Pl&CUUAB  CHARACTER  OF  EACH  OF  THE  PROPHETS. 

Tbe  ptfticultf  «tyle  and  chancter  of  the  difltoent  prapheU :  ,irti«tp«rts  of 
each  of  them  are  poetical»  and  what  otherwiae— Noth^iiy  deMnringotf 
notice  of  thii  kind  in  the  poetry  of  Greece— In  the  Latin  poetxy  the 
fourth  Eclogue  of  Tirgil  is  rcmuicable ;  that  poem  much  more  obscure 
than  It  ia  generally  acoocmted,  and  has  not  liitlierto  bean  pfopcily  eK< 
plained* 

'^  Ihe  prophets  have  each  their  peculiar  character,'* 
says  Jerome,  speaking  of  the  twelve  minor  prophets.^ 
The  same  however  might  more  properly  be  aflkmed 
with  respect  to  the  three  greater :  for  Isaiah  is  extremely 
different  from  Jeremiah ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  conceive  any 
composition  of  the  same  denomination  more  dissimilar 
to  both  of  them  than  the  book  of  Ezekiel. 

Isaiah,  the  first  of  the  prophets,  both  in  order  and 
dignity,  abounds  ia  such  transcendant  excellencies,  that 
he  may  be  properly  said  to  afford  the  most  perfect  mod- 
el of  the  prophetic  poetry.  He  is  at  once  elegant  and 
sublime,  forcible  and  ornamented;  he  unites  energy 
with  copiousness,  and  dignity  with  variety.  In  his  sen- 
timents there  is  uncommon  elevation  and  majesty;  in. 
his  imagery  the  utmost  propriety,  elegance,  dignity,  and 
diversity  ;  in  his  language  uncommon  beauty  and  en- 
ergy ;  and,  notwith^nding  the  obscurity  of  his  sub- 
jects, a  surprising  degree  of  clearness  and  simplicity. 
To  these  we  may  add,  there  is  such  sweetness  in  the 
poetical  composition  of  his  sentences,  whether  it  pro* 

1  Pref.  in  XU.  proph. 


LscT.  SI.      THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER,  Bcc.  SS9 

ceed  from  art  or  genius,  that  if  the  Hebrew  poetry  at 
present  is  possessed  of  any  remains  of  its  native  grace 
and  harm>>ny,  we  shall  chiefly  find  them  in  the  writings 
of  Isaiah :  so  that  the  saying  of  Esekiel  may  most  just* 
ly  be  applied  to  this  prophet : 

<<  Thou  art  the  confirmed  exemplar  of  measures) 

^  Full  of  wisdom^  and  perfect  in  beauty."* 

Isaiah  greatly  excels  too  in  all  the  graces  of  method, 
order,  connexion,  and  arrangement :  though  in  assert- 
ing this  we  must  not  forget  the  nature  of  the  prophetic 
impulse,  which  bears  away  the  mind  with  irresistible 
violence,  and  frequently  in  rapid  transitions  from  near 
to  remote  objects,  from  human  to  divine ;  we  must  also 
be  careful  in  remarking  the  limits  of  particular  prodic* 
tions,  since,  as  they  are  now  extant,  they  are  often  im* 
property  connected,  without  any  marks  of  discrimina- 
tion, which  injudicious  arrangement,  on  some  occasions, 
creates  almost  insuperable  difficulties*  I  lately  pro- 
duced a  specimen  from  this  prophet  of  a  complete  poen^ 
disposed  in  the  most  perspicuous  order;  and  in  the 
former  part  of  his  volume  many  instances  may  be  found, 
where  the  particular  predictions  are  distinctly  marked. 
The  latter  part,  which  I  suppose  to  commence  at  the 
fortieth  chapter,  is  perhaps  the  most  elegant  specimen 
remaining  of  inspired  composition,  and  yet  in  this  re- 
spect is  attended  with  considerable  difficulty.  It  is,  in 
feet,  a  body  or  collection  of  different  prophecies,  nearly 
allied  to  each  other  as  to  the  subject,  which,  for  that 
reason,  having  a  sort  of  connexion,  are  not  to  be  sepa- 
rated but  with  the  utmost  difficulty.  The  general  subject 
is  the  restoration  of  the  church.  Its  deliverance  from 
captivity ;  the  destruction  of  idolatry  ;  the  vindicatioa 
of  the  divine  power  and  truth ;   the  consolation  of  the 

s  BxsK.  zxviu.  12. 

37 


3W  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER        Ltct.SI. 

IvarHtea,  the  divine  invitation  which  is  extoided  to 
than,  their  incredi^ity,  impiety,  and  rejection ;  the  call- 
ing  in  of  the  Gentiles ;  the  restoration  of  the  chosen 
people ;  the  glory  and  felicity  of  the  church  in  its  per- 
fect state ;  and  the  ultimate  destruction  of  the  wickedt 
are  all  set  forth  with  a  sufficient  respect  to  order  and 
method.  If  we  read  these  passages  with  attention,  and 
duly  regard  the  nature  and  genius  of  the  mystical  alle* 
gory,  as  explained  in  the  eferenth  Lecture  ;  at  the  same 
time  ranembeiing,  that  all  these  points  have  been  fiw* 
quehtty  touched  upon  in  other  prophecies  promulged  at 
diffirreift  times,  we  shall  neither  find  any  irregularity  la 
the  arrangement  of  the  whole,  nor  any  want  of  order 
and  connexion  as  to  matter  or  sentiment  in  the  diferent 
parts.  I  must  add,  that  I  esteem  the  whole  book  of 
Isaiah  to  be  poetical,  a  few  passages  excepted,  which,  if 
brought  together,  Would  not  at  most  exceed  the  bulk 
ef  five  or  six  chapters. 

Jeremiah,  though  deficient  neither  in  elegance  nor 
sublimity,  must  give  place  in  both  to  Isaiah.  Jerome* 
seems  to  object  against  him  a  sort  of  rusticity  of  lan- 
guage, no  vestige  of  which,  I  must  however  confess,  I 
have  been  able  to  discover.  His  sentiments,  it  is  true» 
are  not  always  the  most  elevated^  nor  are  his  periods  al* 

3  P%'mf.  in  Jer,  He  probably  adoptad  Uiia  opinion  from  his  inaaten»  the 
^.Tewa.  Of  the  more  modem  Rabbiea,  Ababbavil  (prsf.  in  Jer.)  compUins 
f^rierously  of  the  grammatical  ignorance  of  the  prophet,  and  hia  freqneaft 
soleeiama  ;  which  he  aaya  Ezra  corrected  by  the  Keri  or  marginal  notea, 
for  tie  remarks  that  Uiey  occur^^more  frequently  in  him  than  dsewhcse. 
Absurd  and  ridiculous !  to  attribute  the  errors  of  transcribers,  which  occur 
in  almost  every  part  of  the  Hebrew  text,  totiie  sacred  writefB  themsoLves  i 
tUe  greater  part  of  tfaeae  errora  he  would  indeed  hare  found  acarcdy  tor 
exist,  if  he  had  consulted  the  more  correct  copies,  which  remain  even  at 
lliis  day :  for  among  these  very  marginal  readings,  there  are  but  few,  which,. 
in  the  more  ancient  BC88.  are  not  found  in  the  text  Wajltov  has  k>n|r  since 
fpren  a  remarkable  example  of  this  kind  (,Pr9leg9m.  iv.  12.)  The  colla- 
tions of  Dr.  KxinncoTT  will  aflford  many  more.    Avth^rU  JVsre. 


|;mt.  tl.      OV  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  Mi 

iways  neat  and  compact :  bot  these  are  faults  commoft 
to  those  writers,  whose  principal  aim  is  to  excite  the 
gentler  aflfections,  and  to  call  forth  the  tear  of  sympathy 
or  sorrow.  This  observation  is  very  strongly  exempli- 
fied in  the  Lamentations,  where  these  are  the  prevailing 
passions;  it  is  however  frequently  instanced  in  the 
prophecies  of  this  author,  and  most  of  all  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  book/  which  is  chiefly  poetical.  The  mid* 
die  of  it  is  almost  entirely  historical.  The  latter  part, 
i^n,  consisting  of  the  six  last  chapters,  is  altogether 
poetical ;'  it  contains  several  different  predictions,  which 
ve  distinctly  marked,  and  in  these  the  prophet  approach- 
es very  near  the  sublimity  of  Isaiah.  On  the  whole, 
however,  I  can  scarcely  pronounce  above  half  the  book 
<rf  Jeremiah  poetical. 

£zekiel  is  much  inferior  to  Jeremiah  in  elegance ;  in 
sublimity  he  is  not  even  excelled  by  Isaiah :  but  his 
sublimity  is  of  a  totally  different  kind.*  He  is  deep, 
vehement,  tragical ;  the  only  sensation  he  a&cts  to  ex- 

«  See  the  whole  of  chap.  ix.  <^p.  xiv.  17,  &c.  xx.  14—18. 

'  Chap,  xlvi— li.  to  ver.  59.  chap.  IIL  properly  beleni^  to  the  Lamenta^ 
lions,  to  which  it  senres  aa  an  exordium. 

•  I  must  confess  that  I  feel  not  perfectly  satisfied  with  myself,  when  in  a 
matter  entirely  dependent  upon  taste,  I  can  by  no  means  brings  myself  to 
jigree  with  our  author.  So  far  from  esteeming  Ezekiel  equal  to  Isaiah  in  sub* 
limity,  I  am  inclined  rather  to  think,  that  he  displays  more  art  and  luxuri- 
aace  in  amplifying  and  decorating  his  subject  than  is  consistent  with  the  po- 
etical fervour,  or  indeed  with  true  sublimity.  He  is  in  general  an  imitator, 
and  yet  he  has  the  art  of  ^ving  an  air  of  norelty  and  ingenuity,  but  n»t  of 
grandeur  and  sublimity,  to  all  his  composition.  The  imagery  which  is  fa- 
miliar to  the  Hebrew  poetry  he  constantly  mskes  use  of,  and  those  figures 
which  were  invented  by  others,  but  were  only  glanced  at,  or  partially  dis- 
played by  those  who  first  used  them,  he  dwells  upon,  and  depicts  with  such 
accuracy  and  copiouaness,  that  he  leaves  nothing  to  add  to  them,  nothing  to 
be  supplied  by  the  reader's  imagination.  On  this  scote  his  ingenuity  ia  to 
b^  commended,  and  he  is  therefi)re  of  use  to  his  readers,  because  he  enables 
them  better  to  understand  the  ancient  poets  i  but  he  certainly  does  not 
•trike  with  admiration,  or  display  any  trait  of  sublimity. 


993  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER        Lxct.  21. 

cite  is  the  terrible :  his. sentiments  aie  ekvated,  fervidt 
fttU  of  fire,  indignant ;  his  imagery  is  crowded,  owgn^ 

Of  this  I  will  propose  only  one  example :  many  of  the  lame  kind  may  be 
found  in  looking  over  the  irritings  of  this  prophet.  In  describing  a  great 
•laughter,  it  is  recy  coBinion  im  the  beat  poeta  to  introduce  a  alight  all»- 
aion  to  birds  qf  prey-    Thus  in  .the  Iliad  : 

Oiamrt  n  tfovt 

**  Whose  limbs,  unburied  on  the  naked  shone, 

*•  Devouring  dogs  and  hung^  vultures  tore.**  Pora. 

Thus,  it  is  the  language  of  boaathig  in  the  hbtovical  part  of  Scripture^ 
**  I  will  give  thy  flesh  unto  the  fowb  of  the  air,  and  unto  the  beasts  of  the 
"  field."  1  Sam.  xvii.  44.  Asaph  also  in  Psalm  Ixxviii.  48.  "  He  gave 
M  their  cattle  to  the  hail,  and  their  flocks  U>  the  birds.**  Moses  is  still 
more  sublime,  Dairr.  xzxiL  23,  24» 

**  1  will  spend  mine  arrows  upon  them. 

**  They  thaU  be  eaten  up  with  hunger,  a  prey  unto  birds, 

*<  And  to  bitter  destruction ! 

**  I  will  also  send  the  teeth  of  beaato  upon  them» 

"  With  the  poison  of  the  reptilea  of  the  earth.'* 
But  Habakkck  is  more  excellent  than  either  of  the  former,  chap.  liL  5^ 
speaking  of  the  victory  of  Jbbovab  over  his  enemies : 

••  Before  him  went  the  pestilence, 

**  And  his  footsteps  were  traced  by  the  birds.** 

Doubtless,  the  Hrdi  of  prey,  Isaiab  is  somewhat  more  copious»  chapL 
xxxiv.  6,  7. 

**  For  JjEBOVAH  celebrateth  a  sacrifice  in  Botzm, 

^  And  a  great  slaughter  in  the  Isnd  of  Edom. 

"  And  the  wild  goats  shall  fall  down  with  them ; 

<*  And  the  bullocks,  together  with  the  bulla : 

**  And  their  own  Land  shall  be  drunken  with  their  Uood, 

**  And  their  dust  shall  be  enriched  with  fat.** 
These  and  other  images  Eaekiel  baa  adopted,  and  has  atudieiisly  amplified 
with  singular  ingenuity ;  and  by  exhausting  all  the  bnagery  applicable  to 
the  subject,  has  m  a  manner  made  tiiem  his  own»  in  the  first  ptedictioa 
of  the  slaughter  of  Magog,  the  whole  chapter  consists  of  a  most  magnifi- 
cent siDplificalion  of  all  the  circumatancea  and  appsratua  of  wsr,  so  tha& 
scarcely  any  part  of  the  subject  is  left  untouched ;  be  add»  afterwards  in  a 
bold  and  unuaual  style—*'  Thus,  Son  of  msn»  saith  Jkbotab,  speak  onta 
*'  every  feathered  fowl,  and  to  every  beast  of  the  field :  aaaemble  your- 
^  aelvea  and  come,  gather  yourselves  on  every  aide  to  the  banquet,  which 
**  1  prepkre  for  you,  a  great  banquet  on  the  mountuns  of  Israel.  Ye  shall 
^  «at  flesh,  and  ye  shall  drmk  blood ;  ye  shall  «kt  the  flesh  of  the  mighty^ 


L»cT.  a  I.     OP  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  »3 

«nt^  terrific,  sometimes  almost  to  di^ust ;  his  language 
is  pompous,  sofemui  austefe,  rough,  and  at  times  unpd- 

^  and  drink  the  blood  «f  the  princes  of  the  earth,  of  rains,  of  lambs»  and 
^  of  goat9>  of  bullocks,  all  of  them  fatling^  of  Bashan.  Te  «hall  eat  fat 
''  till  ye  be  satiated,  and  drink  blood  till  ye  be  drunken  in  the  banquet 
**  which  I  haye  prepared  for  you.  Te  shall  be  filled  at  my  table  with 
*'  horses  and  chariots,  with  mighty  men,  and  with  men  of  valour,  saith  the 
**  liord  JsHOTAH.**  EzsK.  zzzviii.  17 — 20.  In  this  I  seem  to  read  a  poet, 
who  is  nnwilluig  to  onut  any  thing  of  the  figuratiTe  kind  which  presents 
itself  to  his  mind,  and  would  think  his  poem  deficient,  if  he  did  not  adorn 
it  with  every  probable  fiction  which  could  be  added :  and  for  this  very 
reason  I  cannot  help  placing  him  rather  in  the  middle  than  superior  class. 
Observe  how  the  author  of  the  Apocalypse,  who  is  in  general  an  imitator» 
but  endued  with  a  sublimer  genius,  and  in  whose  prose  all  the  splendour 
of  poetry  may  be  discerned,  has  conducted  these  sentiments  of  Ezekiel: 
^  I  saw  an  angel  standing  in  the  sun ;  and  he  cried  with  a  loud  voice  unto 
"  the  fowls  that  fly  in  the  midst  of  heaven.  Come  and  gather  yourselves 
**  together  unto  the  sapper  of  the  great  God ;  that  ye  may  eat  of  the  flesh 
**  of  kings,  and  of  captains,  and  the  flesh  of  mighty  men,  and  the  flesh  of 
«'  horses,  and  of  them  that  sit  upon  them,  and  the  flesh  of  all  men,  both 
*•  free  and  bond,  both  amall  and  great.**    Rav.  xix.  17, 18, 

But  Ezekiel  goes  yet  further,  so  delighted  is  he  with  this  image,  so  in* 
tent  is  he  upon  the  by-paths  of  the  Muses,  that  he  g^ves  even  the  trees, 
taking  them  for  empires,  to  the  birda,  and  their  shades  or  ghosts  he  con* 
signs  «to  the  infernal  regions.  Thus  ohap.  zKzi«  13-— 15,  **  Upon  his 
f*  trunk  shall  all  the  fowls  of  heaven  remain,  and  all  the  beasts  of  the  field 
**  shall  be  upon  his  branches.  To  the  end  that  none  of  all  the  trees  by  the 
**  waters  shall  exalt  themselves  fi>r  their  height,  nor  shoot  up  their  top 
^  among  the  thick  boughs ;  neither  their  trees  stand  up  in  their  height, 
^  all  that  drink  water :  fi>r  they  are  all  delivered  unto  death,  to  the  nether 
M  parts  of  the  earth  in  the  midat  of  the  children  of  men,  with  them  that  go 
•*  down  to  the  pit,  &c."  In  this  we  find  novelty  and  variety,  great  fertiU 
ity  of  genius,  but  no  sublimity. 

I  had  almost  fiirgotten  to  mention,  that  Bzekiel  lived  at  a  period  idien 
the  Hebrew  )angaage  was  visibly  on  the  decline.  And  when  we  compare 
him  with  the  Latin  poets  who  succeeded  the  Augustan  age,  we  may  find 
some  resemblance  in  the  style,  somethii^  that  indicates  the  old  age  of 
poetry.    M. 

)f  I  may  speak  my  mind  fir«ely  of  Esekiel,  I  must  confess  I  think  his 
fault  is  neither  a  want  of  novelty  nor  of  sublimity,  but  of  grace  and  uni- 
Ibrmity.  There  is  so  much  inequality  in  his  composition,  that  scarcely 
any  figure  is  kept  op  without  sinking  into  the  btuho9  /  and  if  he  introduce 
in  one  line  a  grand  image,  he  pays  no  attention  to  the  supporting  of  it  in 
the  next.  What  the  Gottingen  professor  remarks  concerning  the  decline 
of  the  Hebrew  languagi^  evident  in  the  poetry  of  this  author,  is  very  just. 

T. 


394  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER       tftcu  il* 

ished :  he  employs  frequent  repetitions,  not  for  the  sike 
of  grace  or  elegance,  but  from  the  vehemence  of  passion 
and  indignation.  Whatever  subject  he  treats  of,  that  he 
sedulously  pursues,  from  that  he  rarely  departs,  but  cleaves 
as  it  were  to  it ;  whence  the  connei^ion  is  in  general  evident 
and  well  preserved.  In  many  respects  heis  perhaps  ex* 
celled  by  the  other  prophets ;  but  in  that  species  of  com- 
position  to  which  he  seems  by  nature  adapted,  the  forei* 
ble,  the  impetuous,  the  great  and  solemn,  not  one  of 
the  sacred  writers  is  superior  to  him.  His  diction  is 
sufficiently  perspicuous,  all  hb  obscurity  consists  in  the 
nature  of  the  subject.  Visions  (as  for  instance,  amcmg 
others,  those  of  Hosea,  Amos,  and  Jeremiah)  areneces» 
sarily  dark  and  confused.  The  greater  part  of  £zekiel, 
towards  the  middle  of  the  book  especially,  is  poetical, 
whether  we  regard  the  matter  or  the  diction.  His  pe- 
riods, however,  are  frequently  so  rude  and  incompact, 
that  I  am  often  at  a  loss  how  to  pr(xiounce  concerning 
his  performance  in  this  respect. 

Isaiah,  Jeremiah,  and  Ezekiei,  as  far  as  relates  to  style, 
may  be  said  to  hold  the  same  rank  among  the  Hebrews, 
as  Homer,  Simonides,  and  ^schylus  among  the  Greeks. 

Hosea  is  the  first  in  order  of  the  minor  prophets,  and 
is,  perhaps,  Jonah  excepted,  the  most  ancient  of  them 
all.  His  style  exhibits  the  appearance  of  very  remote 
antiquity ;  it  is  pointed,  energetic,  and  concise.  It  bears 
a  distinguished  mark  of  poetical  composition,  in  that 
pristine  brevity  and  condensation,  which  is  observable 
in  the  sentences,  and  which  later  writers  have  in  some 
measure  neglected.  This  peculiarity  has  not  escaped 
the  observation  of  Jerome  :  **  He  is  altogether,"  says  he, 
speaking  of  this  prophet,  **  laconic  and  sententious.''^ 
But  this  very  circumstance,  which  anciently  was  sup* 

f  Prxf.  in  zii.  Proph. 


LlcT.SU     or  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  <95 

posed»  no  doubt,  to  impart  uncommdn  force  and  ek« 
gBDce»  in  the  present  rdinous  state  of  die  Hebrew  liter- 
atore,  is  jH-oductive  of  so  mnch  obscurity,  that  dthough 
die  general  subject  of  this  writer  be  sufficiently  obvious, 
he  is  the  most  difficult  and  perplexed  of  all  the  prophets. 
There  is,  however,  another  reason  for  the  obscurity  of 
his  style :  Hosea  prophesied  during  the  reigns  of  the 
four  kings  of  Judah,  Uzziah,  Jotham,  Ahaz,  and  Heze* 
kiah ;  the  duration  of  his  ministry,  therefore,  in  whatev* 
cr  manner  we  calculate,  must  include  a  very  considera- 
ble space  of  time ;  we  have  now  only  a  small  volume  oi 
his  remaining,  which,  it  seems,  contains  his  principal 
prophecies ;  and  these  are  extant  in  a  continued  series, 
with  no  marks  of  distinction  as  to  the  times  in  which 
they  were  published,  or  the  subjects  of  which  they  treat. 
There  is  therefore  no  cause  to  wonder,  if  in  perusing  the 
prophecies  of  Hosea,  we  sometimes  find  ourselves  in  a 
similar  predicament  with  those  who  consulted  the  scat- 
tered leaves  of  the  Sibyl. 

The  style  of  Joel  is  essentially  different  from  that  of 
Hosea ;  but  the  general  character  of  his  diction,  though 
of  a  di&rent  kind,  b  not  less  poetical.  He  is  elegant, 
|)erspicuous,  copious,  and  fluent ;  he  is  also  sublime,  an- 
imated,  and  energetic.  In  the  first  and  second  chapters 
be  displays  the  full  force  of  the  Prophetic  Poetry,  and 
shows  how  naturally  it  inclines  to  the  use  of  metaphors, 
allegories,  and  comparisons.  Nor  is  the  connection  of 
the  matter  less  clear  and  evident,  than  the  complexion 
a£  the  style :  this  is  exemplified  in  the  display  of  the  im» 
pending  evils,  which  gave  rise  to  the  prophecy ;  the  ex^ 
hortation  to  repentance ;  the  promises  of  happiness  and 
success  both  terrestrial  and  eternal  to  those  who  become 
truly  penitent ;  the  restoration  of  the  Israelites ;  and  the 
vengeance  to  be  taken  of  their  adversaries.    But  while 


39«  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER       Lbot.SI; 

we  allow  this  just  commendation  to  his  perspicuity  both 
in  language  and  arrangement,  we  roust  not  deny  that 
there  is  sometimes  great  obscurity  observable  in  his 
subject,  and  particularly  in  the  latter  part  of  the  proph- 
ecy. 

Jerome  calls  Amos  *^  rude  in  speech,  but  not  in  knowU 
^^  edge  ;''*  applying  to  him  what  St«  Paul  modestly  pro- 
fesses of  himself.*  Many  have  followed  the  authori^ 
of  Jerome,  in  speaking  of  this  prophet,  as  if  he  were  in. 
deed  quite  rude,  ineloquent,  and  destitute  of  all.die  enu 
bellishments  of  composition.  The  matter  is,  however, 
far  otherwise.  Let  any  person  who  has  candour  and 
perspicacity  enough  to  judge,  not  from  the  man  but 
from  his  writings,  open  the  volume  of  his  predictions, 
and  he  will,  I  think,  agree  with  me,  that  our  shepherd 
^*  is  not  a  whit  behind  the  very  chief  of  the  prophets."^ 
He  will  agree  that  as  in  sublimity  and  magnificence  he 
is  almost  equal  to  the  greatest,  so  in  splendour  of  dic- 
tion, and  elegance  of  expression  he  is  scarcely  inferior 
to  any.  The  same  celestial  Spirit  indeed  actuated  Isai- 
ah and  Daniel  in  the  court,  and  Amos  in  the  sheep- 
folds  ;  constandy  selecting  such  interpreters  of  the  di- 
vine will  as  were  best  adapted  to  the  occasion,  and 
sometimes  ^^  from  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings 
^*  perfecting  praise  :'*  occasionally  employing  the  nat- 
ural eloquence  of  some,  and  occasionally  making  others 
eloquent. 

The  style  of  Micah  is  for  the  most  part  close,  forcible, 
pointed,  and  concise ;  sometimes  approaching  the  ob- 
scurity of  Hosea  ;  in  many  parts  animated  and  sublime, 
and  in  general  truly  poetical. 

None *of  the  minor  prophets,  however,  seem  to  equal 
Nahum,  in  boldness,  ardour,  and  sublimity.     His  proph- 

s  Prooem.  Comment,  in  Amos.       9  2  Coa.  xL  6.       10  2  Com.  xl  5. 


Lbct.91.      of  the  different  PROPHETS.  1t97 

ecy  too  forms  a  regular  and  perfect  poem  ;  the  exordi- 
um is  not  merely  magnificent,  it  is  truly  majestic ;  the 
preparation  for  die  destruction  of  Nineveh,  and  the  des- 
cription of  its  downfal  and  desolation  are  expressed  in 
the  most  vivid  colours,  and  are  bold  and  luminous  in 
the  highest  degree. 

The  style  of  Habbakkuk  is  also  poetical ;  especially 
in  his  ode»  which  indeed  may  be  accounted  among  the 
most  perfect  specimens  of  that  class."  The  like  remark 
will  also  apply  to  Zephaniah ;  but  there  is  nothing  very 
striking  or  uncommon  either  in  the  arrangement  of  his 
matter  or  the  complexion  of  his  style. 

Of  Obadiah  there  is  little  to  be  said ;  the  only  speci- 
men of  his  genius  extant  being  very  short,  and  the  great- 
er part  of  it  included  in  one  of  the  prophecies  of  Jere- 
miah." Jonah  and  Daniel,  I  have  already  considered  as 
mere  historical  commentaries. 

Ha^ai,  Zechariah,  and  Malachi,  are  the  only  remain- 
ing prophets.  The  first  of  these  is  altogether  prosaic, 
as  well  as  the  greater  part  of  the  second ;  towards  the 
conclusion  of  the  prophecy  there  are  some  poetical  pas- 
sages, and  those  highly  ornamented ;  they  are  also  per- 
spicuous, considering  that  they  are  the  production  of  the 
most  obscure  of  all  the  prophetic  writers."  The  last  of 
the  prophetical  books,  that  of  Malachi,  is  written  in  a 
kind  of  middle  style,  which  seems  to  indicate  that  the 
Hebrew  poetry,  from  the  time  of  the  Babylonish  captiv- 

u  On  a  very  aecurate  perusal  of  Habbakkuk,  I  find  him  a  great  imitator 
of  former  poets,  but  with  some  new  additions  of  his  own ;  not  however  in 
the  manner  of  Ezekiel,  but  with  much  greater  brevity,  and  with  no  com- 
mon degree  of  sublimity.  Ezekiel,  for  the  most  part,  through  his  extreme 
copiousness,  flags  behind  those  whom  he  imitates ;  Habbakkuk  either  riacf 
superior,  or  at  least  keeps  on  an  equality  witli  them.     M. 

»  Compare  Ob.  1—9.  with  Jsa.  xlix.  14,  15,  16,  7,  9,  10. 

^  See  diap.  ix.  z.  and  the  begmning  of  xith. 

38 


3ft  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER        L  «c».  H f . 

ilj,  was  m  a  declining  sfate,  and  being  past  its  prime  and 
vigour,  was  then  fast  verging  towards  the  del»lky  of 
age. 

Thus  far  I  have  thought  proper  to  deliver  my  senti- 
ments,  as  distinctly  as  I  was  able^  coneeming  the  writ- 
ings of  the  prophets,  and  those  parts  which  are  to  be 
accounted  poetical  or  odierwise.  This  I  did  wWh  a  view 
of  clearly  explaining  my  conjecture  (For  I  d£ire  not  dig- 
nify it  with  any  higher  appellation)  concerning  the  Pro- 
phetic Poetry.  A  conjeetore,  wluch,  though  I  will  con- 
fess it  is  not  without  its  diiBcukies,  and  which  musc^ 
after  all,  depend  in  some  degree  opon  opinion,  yet  I  flat^ 
ter  myself,  you  will  concnf  with  me  in  admitliilg  not  to 
be  utterly  destitute  of  fiDundation. 

I  should  now,  according  to  the  natufe  of  my  plan, 
proceed  to  speak  of  the  Prophetic  Poetry  of  the  Greeks, 
if  indeed  any  thing  had  isfeen  transmitted  to  tis^  even 
from  their  most  celebrated  ordeles,  deservti^t  I  will  not 
say,  to  bt  compared  with  the  sacred  prophets,  bot  even 
to  be  mentioned  at  all.  The  fact  is,  there  is  no  such 
poem  now  extant,  nor  do  I  believe  ttnare  ever  was  one 
of  that  kind  among  the  Greeks :  a  few  verses  there  are 
indeed  remaining,  and  those  not  above  mediocrity ;  for 
the  Pythian  Apollo,  if  we  may  credit  the  Greeks  them- 
selves, was  not  always  upon  the  best  terms  with  the 
Muses.*^    It  appears,  therefore,  that  he  did  not  fail  to 

14  « I  find  too  Uiat  lome  of  the  oracles  of  Apollo  have  not  escaped  ndi- 
"  cule  in  this  respect,  thou{^h  the  obscurity  of  prophecy  renders  them  in 
"  general  so  difficult  to  decypher,  that  the  hearers  have  no  leisure  to  be- 
•«  stow  on  an  examination  of  the  metre."  Merc,  in  I.vciax*s  Dial,  entitled 
Jupiter  'Praffadu*. 

•*  A  response  from  an  oracle  in  verse  having  been  recited  by  one  of  the 
•«  company— I  have  often  wondered  (said  Diogenianus)  at  the  meanness  and 
*'  imperfection  of  the  Vcrses  which  conveyed  the  oracular  responses ;  espe- 
«  cially  considering  that  ApoHo  is  the  president  of  the  Mttsea,  and  one 
"  should  imagine,  would  no  lew  interest  hflnMif  m  the  style  of  bis  own 


li«cT.  iK      OF  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  899 

^Kcite  the  ridioule  of  aeouble  persons,  not  only  for  his 
ambiguoMs  and  enigmatical  divinations,  but  for  igno- 
rance in  the  art  of  versification :  nay,  even  the  rude  and 
superstitious,  wbQ  gave  bim  the  amplest  credit  for  the 
veracity  ^  hi^  predictions,  could  nol  help  confessing, 
that  he  was  a  very  indifferent  poet/' 

Among  the  literatM^re  of  the  Romans,  however,  there 
ih  extant  a  much  celebrated,  amd  indeed  admirable  poem 
of  this  kind,  no  less  remarkable  for  the  elegance  and 
perspicuity  of  the  style,  llum  for  the  obscurity  and  dark- 
faess  of  the  subject :  J  speak  of  the  fourth  Eclogue  of  Vir^ 
git^^  wtucfa  it  would  be  inexcusable  to  pass  unnoticed 
in  this  place,  since  from  ;tlie  first  ages  of  Christianity  ao 
opinion  iias  prevailed,  that  this  poem  bore  some  remote 
jpelation  to  those  genuine  remains  of  prophecy,  which 
Jiave  been  the  subject  of  this  Lecture,  and  indeed  that 
the  substance  of  it  was  originally  derived  from  some  sa- 
csed  fountain.  The  manner  in  which  this  could  happen, 
.1  must  confess,  is  not  very  easy  to  be  explained :  wheth- 
er to  account  for  the  fact  we  have  recourse  to  the  ancient 
Xiceek  tcaaslatipQ  of  the  Scr^ures,  the  publication  of 

**  predictions,  than  in  the  harmony  of  odes  and  other  poetry  :  besides»  that 
^  he  certainly  must  be  superior  to  Homer  and  Hesiod  in  poetic  taste  and 
-^  ability.  Notwithstandini^  this»  we  find  many  of  the  oracles»  both  as  to 
"  style  and  metre»  defici^t  in  prosody,  and  in  every  species  of  poetical 
**  merit.**  Plutabcb  Ing.  wfuf  the  Pyfhia  not»  ceaaet  to  deliver  her  oraclet 
im  verae, 

15  Just  as  the  Bishop's  obserratien  is,  concerning  the  prophetic  oracles 
of  the  Greeks,  yet  whoever  will  be  at  the  trouble  of  considering  the  pre- 
dictions of  Cassandra,  in  the  Agamemnon  of  JEschylus,  may  easily  perceire 
a  peculiarity  of  imagery  and  style  that  would  throw  some  light  on  the  sub- 
ject itself,  as  well  as  serve  to  illustrate  the  prophetic  phraseology  of  the 
Hebrews.        S.  H. 

1*  The  prophecy  of  the  Sibyl  in  the  sixth  iEneid  might  also  be  referred 
to  as  an  example  ;  in  it  the  prophetic  extacy  is  so  admirably  expressed, 
that  the  art  and  imitative  powers  of  Virgil  may  contribute  not  a  little  to 
/enable  us  to  imderstand  the  language  and  maimer  of  true  prophecy.    M. 


300  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER        Lect.91. 

which  was  certainly  many  years  anterior  to  the  Roman 
poet ;  or  whether  we  suppose  that  the  author  might  ap- 
ply to  those  translations,  which  were  made  from  the  sa- 
cred writings  by  some  Hellenistic  Jews,  and  which  were 
handed  about  as  the  prophecies  of  the  Sibyls.^^  How* 
ever  this  may  have  been,  there  are  so  many,  and  so  man- 
ifest indications  of  the  fact  in  the  poem  itself,  that  no  per- 
son who  reads  it  attentively  can  retain  a  doubt  upon  this 
head.  The  sentiments,  the  imagery,  even  the  language 
itself  has  so  direct  an  agreement  with  the  sacred  proph- 
ets ;  the  subject  has  so  much  of  intrinsic  sublimity  and 
magnificence ;  and  on  tlie  other  hand  it  is  enlivened  with 
so  much  boldness  and  spirit,  is  indeed  so  free  and  ele- 
vated, that  considering  it  as  the  production  of  the  chast- 
est and  most  reserved  of  all  the  later  poets,  there  is  some- 
thing altogether  mysterious  in  the  fact,  unless  we  sup- 
pose  that  he  deduced  his  materials  from  some  higher 
source  than  his  own  genius.  Though  the  subject  has 
engaged  the  attention  of  some  of  the  first  literary  char- 
acters in  the  world,  the  motive,  the  scheme,  the  inten- 
tion of  the  poet  still  remains,  and  I  fear  ever  will  remain 
undeveloped.  The  history  and  state  of  the  Roman  com- 
monwealth at  the  time  point  out  no  circumstance  or 
character,  which  appears  to  bear  a  sufficient  relation  to 
the  subject,  or  which  could  afibrd  room  for  such  great 
and  magnificent  predictions.^*    This  I  will  freely  con- 

37  See  Bishop  Chawdi^eh's  Vindication  of  the  ChriHian  JSeH^an,  chap.  i. 
and  Gbotius  on  Mattb.  ii.  I. 

u  The  learned  are  generally  agreed,  that  the  ^logue  in  question  cannot 
relate  to  Salonlnus,  a  son  of  Pollio»  bom  after  the  capture  of  Salona,  who 
is  spoken  of  by  Servius,  if  any  such  person  ever  existed,  &ince  it  appears 
from  Dion  and  Appian,  that  th^  expedition  of  PolUo  to  Illyricum  took 
place  in  the  following  year.  Some  have  conjectured,  that  this  poem  re- 
lates to  C.  Aslnius  Gall  us,  a  son  of  the  same  person,  and  indeed  with  much 
greater  appearance  of  prob.ibUity  ;  since  Asconius  Pedianus  reports,  that 
he  had  heard  from  Callus  himself,  that  this  poem  was  composed  in  honour  »f 


L«CT.  »!.      OF  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  301 

fess,  that  the  more  I  have  contemplated  this  extraordi- 
nary production  in  this  pomt  of  view,  the  less  able  I  have 

him.  See  Sxbt.  ad  Eel»g.  iv.  11.  But  Servius  himself  ftfBrros,  that  Gallus 
was  bom  in  the  preceding^  year,  while  Pollio  was  consul  elect :  and  although 
sach  a  boast  might  very  wall  agree  with  the  vanity  of  a  man,  who,  Augustus 
himself  said,  would  be  desirous  of  acquiring  the  sovereignty  after  his  death, 
though  unequal  to  it ;  (Tacit.  An.  L 13.)  yet  it  is  scarcely  probable,  that  any 
poet,  in  common  prudence,  would  predict  any  thing  so  magnificent  of  a  son  of 
Pollio.  Further,  why  has  he  foretold  this  divine  son  to  him  as  a  consul  only, 
and  not  as  a  father  ?  which  would  have  reflected  much  more  honour  on  Pollio. 
Many,  from  these  difficulties,  have  attributed  the  poet's*  compliment  to 
Gaesar  Octavius  and  to  some  child  bom  in  his  fiunily,  as  the  certain  heir  to 
the  empire.  Julia,  Marcellus,  and  Dnisus,  have  all  been  mentioned.  As 
to  Drusus,  neither  his  age  nor  person  correspond  to  the  prediction ;  and 
though  the  age  of  Marcellus  might  suit  it  better,  yet  the  personal  disa- 
greement is  the  same.  With  respect  to  Julia,  the  daughter  of  Octavius, 
there  can  be  no  objection  upon  either  account,  if  tiie  Eclogue  were  written 
during  the  pregnancy  of  Scribonia,  and  that  it  was  written  before  her  de- 
livery is  credible  from  the  invocation  it  contains  to  Lucina :  **  O,  chaste 
Lucina,  aid !" — ^But  let  it  be  remembered  by  those  who  adopt  any  of  these 
hypotheses,  who,  and  in  what  station  Octavius  then  was  \  not  emperor  and 
Augustus,  the  sovereign  lord  of  the  whole  Roman  empire,  all  which  dig. 
nities  became  his  only  after  the  battle  of  Actium,  nine  years  posterior  to 
the  date  of  this  Eclogue;  but  a  triumvir,  equal  only  in  authority  with 
Antony  at  least,  not  to  speak  of  Lepidus.  How  then  could  the  poet  pre- 
sume to  predict  to  any  son  of  Octavius,  if  at  that  time  any  son  had  been 
bora  to  him,  the  succession  to  the  empire  f  But,  if  we  should  even  grant 
what  is  really  true,  that  no  person  more  worthy  or  more  proper  could  be 
found,  or  to  whom  these  predictions  would  be  better  suited,  than  to  some 
of  the  descendants  of  Octavius ;  and  if  even  we  should  suppose  that  a  son 
of  his  was  at  that  time  in  being,  siXiX  there  is  one  argument  sufficient  to 
overturn  the  whole,  and  that  is,  that  the  Eclogue  is  inscribed  to  Pollio ; 
for  at  that  time,  and  even  for  some  time  after,  Pollio  was  of  the  party  of 
Antony,  and  in  opposition  to  Octavius.  Let  us  with  this  in  our  minds  take 
a  summary  view  of  the  actions  of  Pollio,  after  the  death  of  Julius  Cxsar ; 
and  let  us  pay  some  attention  to  the  chronology  of  the  tiroes.  In  the  year 
of  Rome  711,  C.  Asinius  Pollio  having  conducted  the  war  against  Seztus 
Pompeius,  on  his  return  from  Spain  delivered  over  his  army  to  Antony, 
after  his  flight  from  Mutina.  In  the  year  713,  Pollio  held  Cisalpine  Gaul» 
as  Antony's  lieutenant ;  and  along  with  Ventidius  hovered  about  the  rear 
of  Salvidienus,  the  lieutenant  of  Octavius,  who  was  attempting  to  annoy 
Lucius  Antonius :  Lucius  being  besieged  at  Perusia,  Pollio  in  vain  at^ 
tempted  his  relief,  and  afterwards  returned  to  Ravenna :  he  held  Venetia 
a  long  time  subject  to  Antony ;  and  after  having  performed  great  actiona 
in  that  part  of  the  world,  joined  Antony,  bringing  «ver  with  h^m,  at  tlm 


303  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER       Lmct.^U 

felt  myself  to  comprehend  it  Tfaene  is  sQch  a  spiendoiir 
of  style,  such  an  eleiganoe  in  the  versificatton,  as  decetvct 

lame  tim^,  Domidas  JEBobarbos,  and  the  fleet  underliif  conmamL  AWilt 
the  end  of  the  year  714.  the  peace  of  Brundusmm  took  place,  the  nego- 
ciaton  of  which  were  PoUio  aa  consul,  on  the  part  of  Antony,  and  Uaco^ 
naa  on  the  part  of  Octariua,  and  Cocce'iua  on  the  part  of  both,  aa  ihejr 
common  ^end ;  and  about  thia  time  the  irth  Edogue  of  Virgil  «aa  writ- 
ten. In  the  year  ri5,  Antony  aent  PoUio  as  his  lieutenant  afainat  the  Pav- 
4hini  Into  ]ll3rricam ;  who  triumphed  over  them  in  the  month  «f  Ootobec 
Thus  far  Vxixsina,  Appiait,  and  Die.  About  thia  time  «  private  diaa^^roe- 
anent  took  place  between  Pollio  and  Octavius ;  and  Ootavina  wrate  io«r 
oidecent  veraes  against  PoUio.  M^enoa.  Hmmm,  ii.  14.  Frani  thia  tiana 
to  the  battle  of  Actiom,  which  happened  in  733,  in  the  boginning  of  a<y^ 
tember,  Pollb  k^ipt  himaelf  perfectly  neutral,  and  took  no  part  in  the  con- 
test between  Antony  and  Oertavlus.  **  f  nmat  net  onut,**  aaya  Vauuva, 
ii.  86,  **  a  remarkable  action  and  aaymg  of  Aniniua  Poltio.  A<\a*  the  peaoe 
^  of  Brandusium"  (be  should  have  said  after  hia  triumph)  **  he  continue^ 
<<  in  luly,  nor  did  he  ever  aec  the  queen,  or,  af^cr  the  mind  of  Antony  bn- 
**  came  enfeebled  by  his  destnicttve  paaaion,  take  any  part  in  hia  aSaisa^ 
**  and  when  Cssar  requeated  him  to  accompany  him  to  «he  battle  of  Ae- 
^*  tium :  The  kindnes&es,  said  he,  which  1  have  rendered  Antony  ate  greal- 
^  er  m  reality  than  those  he  has  rendered  me,  but  the  latter  are  betttf 
**  known  to  the  world.  1  will  withdraw  myself  entirely  Irom  the  contest 
**  and  I  ahall  become  the  pr^  of  the  conqueror."  From  conaiderii^thesfB 
iacts,  it  appears  to  me  altogether  incredible,  that  Virgil  should  «end,  and 
inscribe  to  Pollio,  a  poun  in  praise  of  Octavius,  and  whoUy  nviUen  in  cel- 
ebration of  his  family.    .^toAarV  AW. 

Whoever  will  compare  the  three  prc^hecies  of  Isaiah  contained  in  the 
second,  elevtnlh,  and  sixty-fifth  diapters,  with  the  fourth  £clogue  of  Vir- 
{gil,  can  hardly  doubt:  whether  the  aame  images,  uni^  in  .combinations 
4»pposite  to  the  analogies  of  nature,  applied  to  aimilar  subjects,  and  bjr 
4>oth  writers  in  the  way  of  prediction,  must  not  have  ultimately  originated 
jn  one  common  source,  aod  the  latter  have  been  derived  from  the  former, 
if  so,  the  agreement  in  queatiofn  may  he  rationally  accounted  for,  eapecially 
af  it  appear  that  the  poet  has  himself  refocred  to  the  Jewish  Scriptures,  aa 
the  fountain  of  such  images,  in  the  same  mannv  aa  to  the  writings  of  Ho- 
4ner,  &c.  for  others  of  Grecian  origin.  [See  Gaoneio.  8*  iii.  1.  19*  uid  the 
notes  on  Vathek,  p.  269.}^lt  seems,  however,  by  his  k»rd^p's  concessioi^ 
Ihat  the  mjrstery  would  be  In  a  .great  measure  solved,  could  it  once  be 
ahewn,  that  the  prophecy  of  Virgil  were  applicable  to  any  child  whose 
•birth  was  expected  at  the  time  of  his  writing,  different  from  him  n^om 
the  prophet  had  fooetold.— His  lordship  having  acouted  the  psetensioqa 
4>f  Servius  and  others  in  favour  of  any  aon  of  Pollio,  and  remarked  that  the 
fioet's  prophecy  would  neither  suit  the  age  nor  situation  of  Dmsiis  or 
BCarcellus,  readily  admits  its  o(M\grtti^  so  for  as  a  «•»  is  concerned,  to  the 


LACT.  3U     OP  THE  DIFFERENT  PKOPHET&        [  30^ 

IIS  at  first  respecting  the  obscurity  of  the  matter.  But 
on  a  neaftr  inspection  of  each  particnlstri  on  a  thorough 

obiM  with  irtudi  ScriWniA  wm  at  (hit  time  pregMiit  Here  tbe  ^HficuUy 
vkh  his  lordship  begins.  For,  how,  eonsideriog  the  situation  of  OetaviHS 
at  this  period»  coald  Am  child  he  the  sobject  of  such  a  predietion  ^— Why» 
in  predicthig  the  future  greatness  of  a  son  of  Octayius,  should  Vti^  ad* 
dress  his  predietion  to  PoUio  ^— >Avd,  supposing  these  diffieulties  sohred» 
haw  can  the  imagery  ef  the  predietkm  itsdf  he  reconciled  to  the  suhfeet 
of  Hi 

lict  us  take  each  question  in  it»  order.  1.  In  staUng  the  situation  of  Oc» 
twrius»  his  lordsh^  has  unwarily  admitted  a  succession  of  facts,  which,  be* 
img  posterior  to  the  time  wiien  the  Eclogue  was  written,  could  not  hate 
bent  foreknown  by  Virgil,  and  therefore  ought  not  to  be  brought  into  qoes-^ 
tk».  In  the  year  7t4,  when  all  the  horrors  of  a  civil  wsr  were  impending 
niter  ItsJy,  a  reconeiliaiion  wss  suddenly  effected  between  Antony  and  Oe* 
taTtus,  at  tke  mterrentkm  of  Pollio,  Meciftnas  snd  Gocceius  Nerra.  The 
result  of  thu  treaty  was  a  partition  of  the  Roman  world  between  Octavlus 
and  Antony  (for  I^epidus  they  regarded  as  a  cypher.)  When  the  ratifica- 
tion of  this  agraement  was  confirmed»  and  Antony  departed  to  his  province, 
nothing  was  left  in  the  west  to  thwart  the  aimsof  Octavius,  but  what  might 
arise  horn  Ponipey,  who  still  commanded  a  fleet.  To  guard  against  any 
obstacle  from  this  quarter,  Octavius,  instead  of  attempting,  as  had  been 
projected  with  his  colleague,  to  crush  Pompey  by  violence,  chose  rather  to 
ceoeiliate  his  friendship.  With  this  view  therefore  (as  the  marriage  of 
Octavia  with  Antony  had  appeased  h^  husband  and  brother)  Octavius 
married  Scribonaa,  the  sister  of  Pempe/s  wife ;  and  the  expedient,  for  a 
short  time»  was  not  without  effect.  When  this  Eclogue  then  was  written, 
OcUvius  was  master  of  Italy  and  that  part  of  the  empire  which,  under  its 
own  aam^  comprehended  the  trorld.  At  peace  with  his  colleagues  abroad, 
kaviug  nothing  to  ^}prehend  at  home,  and  invested  with  absolute  power  to 
emnpose  those  commotions  by  which  the  empire  had  been  so  lately  convuls- 
ed» what  mi|^t  not  Ocuvius  hope-^r  what  mig^t  not  the  flattery  of  a 
poet,  who  in  circumstances  less  &vourable  had  styled  him  a  ooo»  now 
prompt  ir»  aspiring  mind»  and»  on  the  ground  of  a  divine  prediction»  to  ex- 
pect would  be  the  future  greatness  of  his  son  ? 

But»  2»  it  is  asked :  Why  Vij^l  on  such  an  occasion  should  address  this 
ptediction  to  Pollio»  who  had  been  not  the  friend  of  Octavius,  but  of  An- 
tony  P 

fo  answer  to  this  inquiry,  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  private  misunder- 
standing, which  his  lordship  has  alleged  to  have  arisen  between  Pollio  and 
Octavius»  a  yesr  or  more  after  Pollio  had  been  consul,  is  totally  beside  the 
question  $  except  as  it  serves  to  shew  that»  from  the  peace  of  Brundusium 
till  the  rise  of  this  disagreement»  Octavius  and  Pollio  were  friends.  But 
whatever  political  enmity  might  have  existed  between  them  prior  to  that 
«eaty»  they  ware  both  unsmmous  in  the  patronage  of  genius.    It  was  whilst 


304  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER        Lect.  ai. 

examination  of  the  nature  and  the  force  of  the  imagery 
and  diction,  so  many  things  occur  totally  different  from 

Pollk)  hdd  the  tenritoiy  of  Venice  for  Anton/,  that  his  acquaintance  vith 
Virgil  commenced  ;  and  as  the  si>lendour  of  the  poet* •  talents,  which  brolce 
through  the  obscurity  and  depreaaion  of  his  condition,  had  attrtcted  the 
notice  of  Pollio  ;  so,  by  his  means,  they  obtained  the  favour  of  Octavhis  : 
for  it  is  agreed  on  aU  hands,  that  PoUio,  either  in  person,  or  by  the  mter- 
vention  of  some  friend  (perhaps  Varus,  see  Ed.  IX.)  brought  Virgil  to  the 
knowledge  of  Octavius ;  who  restored  to  him  his  patrimony  which  the  sol- 
diers had  usurped.  Yet,  widely  as  Octavius  and  PoUio  might  have  difiered 
before  the  treaty  of  pacification,  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  them,  afto 
iU  confirmation,  upon  any  other  than  an  intimate  fiwting  {  at  least,  till  that 
prroaie  misunderstanding  to  which  his  lordship  has  adverted.  Kow,  what 
could  be  more  natural,  what  more  consistent  with  the  nicest  address,  than 
that  Virgil,  whose  poetic  talents  had  first  procured  him  the  protection  of 
PoUio,  and  by  his  means  the  munificence  of  Octavius,  should  offer  through 
his  first  patron,  who  was  not  only  at  this  time  consul,  but  had  been  chiefiy 
instrumental,  by  negociating  the  peace,  to  the  establishment  of  Octavius  * 
in  power,  a  poetic  compliment  to  his  greater  benefactor,  on  a  predictioii 
believed  to  point  out  his  son  ? 

Having  thus  answered  two  of  the  questions  proposed,  it  remains  to  con- 
sider the  third.  Virgil,  in  the  first  Eclogue,  which  was  written  on  regain- 
ing his  estate,  confines  himself  chiefly  to  hU  own  concerns  and  those  of  his 
Mantuan  neighbours,  but  in  the  present  his  voice  is  raised  to  a  loftier  strun. 
The  arhutta  hmileMque  rngfric^e  are  the  concerns  of  private  life  contrasted  with 
;S!y/v«r,  such  as  belong  to  the  empire  at  large :  thus,  Rome  is  said  in  the  first 
Eclogue,  '*  to  rear  her  head  as  high  above  other  cities,  as  the  tall  cypress 
**  above  the  lowly  shrubs." — Si  camnuu  ajfhHu,  &c.  "  if  woods  be  my  theme, 
*'  let  the  wooeb  be  worthy  of  a  consul."  This  ioMgery  is  by  no  means  cas- 
ual ;  for  we  learn  from  Suetonius  (Jul.  Cats.  c.  six.)  that  the  woods  had 
been  lately  made  a  consular  care. — Ultima  Cunun  vemi  jam  earmim*  ttttu  ; 
*'  The  last  age  of  the  Cumaean  prophecy  is  now  come."  It  is  highly  de- 
serving of  notice,  that  Cicero,  in  his  treatise  on  Divination,  has  not  only  re- 
ferred to  the  Sybilline  verses  as  containing  a  divine  prediction  of  some  fu- 
ture king,  but  also  mentioned  an  expectation  that  the  interpreter  of  them 
would  apply  that  prediction,  in  the  senate,  to  Caesar.  This  prophecy  had 
possibly  its  origin  in  the  Jewish  Scriptures,  snd  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the 
partiality  of  Julius  towards  the  Jews,  might  have  concurred  with  other  cir- 
cumstances to  point  the  application.  But  however  this  were,  an  expecta- 
tion had  been  long  prevalent  in  the  East  of  an  extraordinary  personage,  who 
was  to  establish  universal  empire  ;  and  the  prediction  whence  this  expec- 
tation arose,  was  probably  broug^it  to  Rome,  by  the  persons  whom  the  sen- 
ate had  deputed,  to  search  in  different  countries  for  prophetic  verses,  to  sup- 
ply the  loss  of  those  wiiich  liad  perished  iji  the  capitol.  Such  however  is 
the  affinity  between  the  prediction  spoken  of  by  Cicero,  and  that  which 


LECT121.      OF  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  305 

the  general  &shion''of  the  Roman  authors,  so  altogether 
foreign  to  the  conceptions  of  the  people  of  that  age  and 

Taeitus  (Hut  V.  13.)  hfts  referred  to  the  Jewish  Scriptmefl,  as  to  leare  no 
room  for  surprise  if  we  see  Yirfpl,  from  the  notion  of  both  harinp  a  com- 
mon aim*  adopt  the  one  to  adorn  the  other ;  for«  as  the  former  was  thought 
applicable  to  Julius,  and  the  latter  to  Vespasian  or  his  son,  why  might  not 
Virgil  consolidate  both»  and  apply  them  to  the  son  of  Octavius  P    And  if 
Tacitus  were  acquainted  with  the  Jewish  Scriptures»  why  might  not  Virgil 
be  also  P    His  writings  show  that  his  researches  were  uniyersal»  and  upon 
every  principle  of  just  construction^  if  the  Mvsss  and  the  Aoviav  mowni  be 
emblematical  of  the  Gbsciax  j^Mif  » bis  Idvmjba  v  pfUnu  must  equally  signify 
the  /netic  tcripturet  ^f  the  Jaws.    [See  Georg.  iii.  12,] — Ultima  ^ttu,  8tc« 
^  the  last  age  of  the  Cumaean  prediction  is  now  come."    Whatever  were  the 
particulars  of  this  prediction,  the  time  set  for  its  completion  coincides  with 
that  in  the  Scriptures.    [The  SybilUne  oracles  in  their  present  condition, 
by  the  way,  are  so  sopliisticated,  that  no  stress  can  be  rested  on  their  testis 
mony  without  the  support  of  collateral  proof.  It  will,  however,  deserve  to  be 
considered ;  If  the  heathens  were  ever  in  possession  of  a  genuine  prophecy, 
which  came  not  from  the  Jews  or  the  Christians  P]   Magnue^  &c.    ^  The 
**  great  order  of  ages  ag^n  begins  :   the  Virgin  is  already  returning :   the 
<*  Satumian  rule  returns."   This  commencement  of  the  ages  perfectly  agrees 
with  Isaiah,  who  styles  the  child  he  foretels,  "  the  Father  of  ages."    By 
the  return  of  Astrxa,  Virgil  alludes  to  the  justice  he  had  himself  experi- 
enced at  the  hands  of  Octavius.    The  renewal  of  the  Satumian  rule  will  be 
best  explained  by  referring  to  the  poet's  account  of  its  former  state. 
*«  He  [Saturn]  by  just  laws  embodied  all  the  train, 
'*  Who  roam'd  the  hills,  and  drew  them  to  the  plain : 
«*  There  fix'd ;  and  LAtium  call'd  the  new  abode, 
**  Whose  friendly  shores  concealed  the  latent  God. 
'*  These  realms  in  peace  the  monarch  long  controll'd, 
**  And  bless'd  the  nations  with  an  age  of  gold." 
Jum  nsvo  progemet  emh  demittitw  alto  .*  A  new  progeny  is  now  sent  down 
"  from  high  heaven."    Sent  dorm  in  opposition  to  the  manner  of  Satum*s 
descent: 

«« —Saturn  fled  before  victorious  Jove, 
*•  JDriven  down,  and  banish'd  from  the  realms  above.** 
The  aid  of  Lucina  is  invoked  in  favour,  nascenti  puero,  «  of  the  boy  when 
*'  he  comes  to  the  birth."  It  is  not  improbable  that  Virgil  was  induced  to 
transfer  the  Sibylline  prediction  from  Julius,  in  whom  it  had  palpably  failed, 
to  this  expected  son  of  Octavius,  from  Isaiah's  having  dwelt  so  minutely 
on  the  infancy  of  the  person  foretold. — ^to  ferrea  primum,  i^e,  **  with 
**  whom  the  iron  age  (or  age  of -war  J  shall  cease,  and  the  golden  age  sbaU 
*^  rise  over  the  world."  Though  Virgil,  when  Scribonia,  instead  of  a  son, 
WM  delivered  of  a  daughter,  discovered  his  mistake  as  to  the  rsasov  pre^ 

S9 


566  THE  PECULIAR  CHARAfctER        Lart.  «I. 

nation,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  believe  it  was  pcifectly  ufi^ 
faerstood  even  6n  its  first  publication.    But  #hef»  a  for^ 

dieted,  he  still  continued  confident  in  respect  to  the  evenitf  and  tberelbre 
when  he  rcsamcd  the  prophecy,  from  a  persuasion  that  he  could  not  a  aed- 
ond  time  err,  he  makes  the  Sibyl  herself  point  out  Auguatui  aa  the  fMA 
so  often  promised : 

«  Hie  Caesar,  &  omnia  lull 
**  Projjenies,  magpiuro  cdcli  Ventura  sub  axeih. 
«•  Hie  vir,  hic  est,  tibi  quern  promitti  sxpms  audia» 
*«  Augustus  Caesar,  Divi  genus  aurea  condet 
•*  Secula  qui  rursus  Latlo,  regnata  per  arva 
**  Salumo  quondam,  super  &  Garamantaa  &  Indo» 
"  Profcret  impcrium,  &c."*  JEw.  vi.  line  1/9. 

•«  Turn»  turn  thine  eyes !  see  here  thy  race  divincr 

"  Behold  thy  own  imperial  bbman  line  : 

"  Caesars  with  all  tlie  Julian  name  surrey ; 

**  Sec  where  the  glorious  ranks  ascend  to  day  ! — 

**  This — ^this  is  he  !  the  chief  so  long  foretold, 

**  To  bless  the  land  where  Saturn  rul*d  of  old, 

"  And  give  the  Latian  realms  a  second  ag^  of  gold  f 

"  The  promls'd  prince,  Augustus  the  divine, 

"  Of  Caesar's  race,  and  Jove's  immortal  line  ! 

"  This  mighty  chief,  this  empire  shall  extend, 

"  O'er  Indian  realms,  to  earth's  remotest  end.** 
Till,  however,  a  daughter  was  born»  Virgil  remained  undeceived.  Tlip 
mention  of  the  golden  age  rising  again  over  the  world,  is  sufBciant  proof 
that  the  Virgin  before  described  aa  returning  was  Astraea,  and  as  in  the 
Gcorgica  he  aaaerta,  that  her  lateat  footsteps  on  earth,  were  ctlacemible  i» 
rural  retreats : 

—  ^_  **  last  with  you 

**  Juatitia  InigeHd,  ere  ahe  quite  withdrew.'* 
So  by  adding,  *'  Apollo  now  reigns,**  he  seems  to  intimate,  that  the  powei» 
of  poetry  had  triumphed  over  oppression,  and  procured  him  the  interpoai» 
tion  of  justice,  in  the  restoration  of  his  pasture  and  flocks.  But  though 
this  interpretation  may  agree  with  the  context,  the  tenth  verae  will  admit 
of  a  fuller  sense.  After  invoking  aid  from  Lucina,  it  is  added,  "  thy  own 
*<  Apollo  now  reigns,**  that  is,  the  SibyOine  prediction  m  begw%  to  heJulfiUetL 
As  Apollo  was  the  Ood  of  prophecy,  it  was  in  reference  to  his  reigning  un* 
der  this  character  that  Lucina  is  invoked  to  assist  in  the  fulfilment  of  the 
prediction  himself  had  inspired,  by  granting  to  the  child  a  propitious  birth. 
—[It  ia  well  known,  that  Augustus  afterward  afTt^ted  to  be  patronized  b^ 
Apollo,  to  resemble  him,  to  assume  his  dress,  to  be  thought  his  son,  and  to 
pay  him  divine  honours  as  his  tutelary  deity;  now  what  better  account  of 
so  extraordiuary  a  cbnduct  can  be  given,  thah  that  all  was  done  wlfli'tht 


\ 


i^gn  i;(iterpretation,  sugg^^ted  by  ibt  writjngs  of  the  He* 
fxc^^  (the  full  force  and  importance  of  .whic,h  it  is  im- 

view  of  arrog^tinp  to  himself  the  Bibyl^s  prediction,  which  Virgil  in  the 
JEneid  has  appropriAted  to  him  i^Tegve  a4e9^  &c.  **  £n^  in  thjr  conti^- 
^  ship,  O  f>ollio»  in  tlune,  shall  the  glory  of  this  age  begin  to  commence» 
**  and  the  great  months  thence  to  procted."  **  The  glory  of  this  age  (ilic 
f*  age  predicted  J  shall  begin  to  commence.**  It  wa6  in  the  consulship  of 
JPoUio  that  the  niarrii^  pf  Octavius  to  Scribonia  took  place^  the  great 
montht  therefore  are  the  montht  of  her  pregnatu:jff  which  immediately  follow- 
ed her  marriage. — TV  duce,  £^c.  "  Under  your  management,  if  any  vcstigja 
**  of  our  wickedness  remain»  they  shall  be  effaced,  and  the  world  delivertrd/' 
This  plainly  refers  to  the  influence  of  Poliio  in  negociating  the  treaty  at 
Brundusium,  and  also  to  the  further  exertion  of  his  consular  power.— iZb 
J^eum  vitam  acdpiat,  Ue,  **  He  shall  receive  the  life  of  g^s,**  Sec  Sim- 
ilar, though  still  bolder,  expressions  are  applied  to  Augustus,  in  the  first 
Ceorgic,  verse  the  24th. — Pacatumque  reget  patriU  virtutihu  erbem  **  And 
^  shftll  govern  the  world  at  peace,  with  his  fathsb's  virtuf^s.**  To  whom 
«ould  this  apply,  but  a  son  of  Octavius,  and  the  son  whom,  it  was  believed, 
the  prediction  had  foretold  ?  Hence  follows  the  description  of  the  golden 
•ge'  corresponding  with  the  imagery  of  Isuah,  to  verse  26.  JU  Hmuly  C/c. 
**  But  as  soon  as  thou  shalt  be  able  to  read  the  praises  of  heroes,  and  the 
•*  atchievements  of  thy  father,  and  to  understand  what  the  energy  of  virtue 
-**  can  effect,  the  spacious  field  shall  by  degrees  become  yellow  with  the 
^**  soft  ear."  That  is,  before  you  be  old  enough  to  view  those  plains  which 
have  so  lately  been  the  theatre  of  heroism  and  horror,  the  devastations  of 
civil  discord  shall  gradually  disappear,  and  the  tranquil  occupations  of  hus- 
l»andry  imperceptibly  change  their  face.  Pauca  tamen  mbertmt  firUc^  «ea- 
Hgiafrottdit^  &c.  '*  But  there  shall  remain  beneath  the  surface  some  tra- 
**  ces  of  ancient  fraud,"  &c.  This  obviously  alludes  to  Pompey,  who  still 
retained  the  command  of  his  fleet ;  whilst  **  the  other  wars'*  seem  to  im- 
ply the  contests  to  be  looked  for  in  the  East,  whither  Antony  was  gone^ 
juid  who  therefore,  in  compliment  to  PoUic^  is  stiled  **  another  Achilles.** 
'The  poet  after  this  resumes  the  unages  expressive  of  the  golden  age  as  be- 
fore—Core DeuM  to6o&«,  magnum  JvuU  incretnentum^  Ujc,  ^  O  beloved 
^**  offspring  of  the  Gods,  great  increase  of  Jove !"  &c.  is  not  only  consonant 
to  the  language  of  scriptural  prediction,  but  in  the  sense  of  Virgil  suitable 
to  none  but  a  Gxsar.  See  the  6th  JEneid  and  2d  Georgic  before  referred  to. 
There  are  reveral  other  passages  of  the  IQclogue  which,  m  this  attempt 
ttt  iUnstration,  have  been  omitted,  for  the  sake  of  brevity,  although  they 
would  have  reflected  additional  light  on  the  mterpretation  which  is  here 
offtfed.  Such  images  of  the  poet  as  approach  the  nearest  to  those  of  the 
prophet  are  also  purposely  passed  over ;  because,  both  in  Virgil  and  Isaiah, 
they  have  no  specific  destination,  but  are  used  as  generally  symbolical  of 
innocence  and  happiness  ;  and  that  this  was  the  more  obvious  mode  of  ex- 
pUioing  the  prophetic  scriptures  is  certain,  for  the  Jews^  firom  those  verjr 


SOB  THE  PECULIAR  CHARACTER        Lbct.  21. 

possible  the  poet  himself  could  have  comprehended) 
serves  to  unravel  the  difficulties,  and  to  enlighten  all  the 
obscurities  of  this  extraodinary  poem ;  when  I  consider 
this,  I  own  I  am  at  a  loss  at  what  point  to  stop  the  licen* 
tiousness  of  conjecture  upon  this  subject :  and  indeed 
what  imagination  occasionally  suggests,  I  dare  scarcely 
express.  I  will  only  say,  the  fact  has  something  in  it  so 
extraordinary,  so  miraculous  to  my  conceptions,  that  I 
am  sometimes  half  inclined  to  £aincy ,  that  what  Sociatesi 

images  in  the  prophet»  have  constantly  inferred»  that  their  promised  Mci- 
siali  would  be  a  temporal  Saviour. 

But  there  will  be  no  necessity  to  enlarge  on  this  head ;  for  notwithstand- 
ing what  is  advanced  in  the  Lecture,  on  the  incongruity  of  Virgil's  lan- 
guage to  his  subject,  upon  any  other  idea  than  th&t  of  a  mysterious  rela- 
tion to  the  Messiah  and  his  kingdom,  it  is  the  voluntary  concession  of  his 
lordship  in  the  note,  "  that  no  person  could  be  any  where  found  more 
^*  wortiiy  qf  this  prophetic  Eclogue,  nor  whom  it  would  more  aptly  fit,  or 
*.*  with  whon^  its  contents  would  better  quadrate,  than  a  son  of  Octavius^ 
**  provided  it  could  be  shewn  that  a  ton  was  bom  to  him,  in  the  year  when 
«  PoUio  was  consul."  Now  though  it  be  impossible  to  supply  the  proof 
which  his  lordship  requires,  yet  ao  far  as  Xbe  spirit  of  the  postulate  is  con- 
cerned, a  satisfactory  answer  can  be  given.  For  notwithstanding  upon  my 
h}'pothesis  (which  perfectly  harmonises  with  the  history  of  facts)  Octavius 
had  no  child,  till  the  year  after  Pollk)  was  consul,  and  then  only  a  dkm^A- 
*er/  yet,  as  Scribonia  became  pregnant  in  the  conaulship  of  Pollio,  and  the 
Bclogue  was  written  in  that  very  year,  Virgil  (whatever  the  coincidences  nf 
the  time  with  the  Sibylline  prediction  might  have  led  him  to  expect}  cer- 
tainly could  not  know,  without  the  gift  of  prescience^  the  sex  of  this  un- 
born child. 

1  am  duly  sensible  that  an  apology  is  necessary  to  the  reader  for  so  long 
a  detention  from  the  Lectures  that  follow  ;  but  as  (notwithstanding  hia 
lordship's  opiniotn,  tlia\  *'  though  the  subject  has  engaged  the  attention  of 
**  some  of  the  first  literary  characters  in  the  world,  the  motive,  the  scheme, 
*'  the  intention  of  the  poet  still  remains  undeveloped ;"}  the  subject  does 
aot  seem  ta  have  been  hitherto  discussed  with  the  precision  it  deserved,  I 
was  willing  to  submit  it  to  the  pubLc  in  a  new  point  of  view,  with  the 
hope,  that  wiiat  appeared  convincing  to  myself,  might  be  favourablf  re» 
ceived  by  others.    S.  ^. 

Perhaps  a  still  more  decisive  objection  against  the  hypothesis  to  which 
Mr.  H.  alludes  is,  that  the  very  prophecies,  from  which  Yirgil  has  appar- 
ently copied  his  imagery,  do  not  seem  to  have  any  relation  to  the  ^sf 
coming  of  the  Messiah,  but  seem  wholly  to  relate  to  that  triumphant  $ec* 
o^d  coming,  wiiich  is  yet  unaccomplished.    T. 


L«0T.  «I.      OF  THE  DIFFERENT  PROPHETS.  309 

in  the  lo  of  Plato,  says  (probably  in  his  usual  tone  of 
irony)  of  poets  in  general,  might  have  actually  come  to 
pass :  "  Hence/*  says  the  philosopher,  "  the  god,  hav- 
**  ing  by  possessing  their  minds  deprived  them  of  their 
^^  natural  reason,  makes  use  of  them,  as  well  as  of  the 
'^  prophets  and  diviners,  as  his  ministers,  to  the  end,  that 
^  we  who  hear  them  should  understand,  that  matters  of 
"  so  great  importance  are  not  uttered  by  men  in  their 
<*  sober  senses,  but  that  it  is  the  god  himself  who  utters 
**  them,  and  addresses  us  by  their  mouths." 


OF  ELEGIAC  POETRT. 

LECTURE  XXIL 

0F  XHE/NATUEE  AND  OHIOIN  W  TW  H^PBEW  ««GjT.s  A]n> 
OF  THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMIAH. 

The  nature  and  origin  of  the  Hebrew  Elegy  traced  into  the  solemn  expres- 
sions of  grief  exhibited  in  their  funeral  ceremonies— The  office  and  func- 
tion of  professed  mourners  :  the  dirges,  which  were  sung  by  them,  were 
short,  metrical,  and  sententious  ;  many  of  the  lamentations,  which  are 
extant  ^n  the  prophets,  were  composed  in  imitation  of  them— The  whole 
of  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah  constructed  upon  the  same  principle— 
The  general  conduct  and  form  of  that  poem  ;  the  nature  of  the  ▼erne ; 
the  subject  and  the  style. 

X  HAT  poetry  is  indebted  for  its  origin  to  the  more  ve- 
hement affections  of  the  human  mind,  has  been,  I  ap- 
prehend, very  clearly  evinced.  The  distribution  of  it 
into  its  different  species  is  not,  however,  exactly  regu- 
lated by  the  nature  and  order  of  the  passions ;  though  I 
think  thb  is  a  circumstance  which  ought  not  entirely  to 
be  disregarded.  There  are,  indeed,  some  species  df 
poetry  which  admit  of  every  passion,  such  as  the  Lyric ; 
and  there  are  some  which  scarcely  admit  of  any,  such  as 
the  Didactic :  there  are  others,  however,  which  are  pe- 
culiarly adapted  to  particular  passions,  tragedy  for  in- 
stance ;  and  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  explain  the 
nature  of  the  passions  which  are  congenial  to  the  pro- 
phetic Muse.  There  is  a  distinct  species  of  poetry, 
which  b  appropriated  solely  to  one  particular  passion ; 
and,  what  b  worth  remarking,  we  have  never  known  a 
people,  who  might  be  said  to  have  made  any  proficiency 


Lict.Stf.  ULtGf.  911 

in  i^tietrjr,  who  hud  nbt  a  peculiar  tartn  of  poetrt,  inveMed 
flui-posely  tot  Iht  expression  of  sorrow,  and  appropriated 
ivhblly  to  plaintive  subjects.^  This  species  of  poem  th6 
Greeks,  and  most  riations  after  them,  distinguish  by  the 
itarhe  of  Elegy :  the  Hebrews  call  it  JTinah  or  Nefd, 
both  Which  are  significant  of  sorrow,  or  lamentation. 

The  genius  and  origin  of  this  poem  among  the  He- 
bi^ws  tnay  be  clearly  traced  into  their  mantier  of  cele- 
brating ^eir  funeral  rites.  It  may  indeed  more  properly 
ht  tieHhH  the  dictate  of  nature  than  of  custom,  to  foU 
tow  to  the  grave  the  remains  of  a  friend  with  grief  and 
lamentation.  The  ancient  Hebrews  were  not  ashamed 
of  obeying  the  voice  of  nature  on  this  occasion,  and  of 
liberally  pouring  forth  the  effusions  of  a  bleeding  heart. 
The  language  of  grief  is  simple  and  unaffected ;  it  con- 
feists  of  a  plaintive,  intermitted,  concise  form  of  expres- 
sion, if  indeed  a  simple  exclamation  of  sorrow  may  de- 
serve such  an  appellation. 

«  O  fiitlicr  !  O  my  country  !  O  house  of  Priam  !*"• 
fexclaims  Andromache  in  the  tragedy :  nor  less  pathetic 
is  the  complaint  of  the  tender  father  in  the  Sacred  His- 
tory, on  the  loss  of  his  beloved,  though  disobedient  son ; 

1  '<  Aa^  originally»  MBoHg  the  Egyptuma,  a  wn^  or  baUatL'*  Hibod.  ii. 
79.  **  Herodotus  remarks,  that  this  kind  of  song  was  very  common  in 
*'  PhcenicU  and  Cyprus.  Why,  therefore,  may  not  the  word  Kn^  (linos)  be 
«  derived  from  the  Arabic  ft'n,  fefiM,  to  be  tender,  eoft :  m  Conjug.  ii.  to 
•*  toften  or  make  tender  P*    H. 

See  a  note  on  this  .subject  on  lecture  XIIL  and  the  passage  there  eked 
horn  the  Orestes  of  Eurip. 

AIADiON  AIAINON  m^xF^  ^mdh 
WafCafoi  Kty^n  Al,  Al« 

Hie  Aixiy#»  (ailinos)  in  this  passage,  appears  to  be  compounded  of  the  ele- 
^ac  AI  (ai)  and  aii#*  (linos.)  If  so,  it  will  correspond  with  the  xiv#^  (li- 
nos) mentioned  by  Herodotosy  and  referred  to  by  Or.  Hunt  in  the  abore 

wftt.  s.a 

9  CXGSM  TUBC.  Qoxtt.  lib.  iU« 


aU  ELECT.  Ltdr.M. 

iAt  discipline  ot  imrientatioh  and  woe,  in^  with  teatv 
aliVays  at  command  for  a  reasonable  stipend.  A^  in  alf 
other  krts,  so  in  tUis,  pi^iiection  cdnsisted  iti  fiie  etiti 
imitation  of  nature.  The  ^mere^l  dirgei  w^  tHereibri 
composTci  in  general  upon  the  model  of  those  ctimplaintil 
which  flow  naturafty  and  spontiineously  from  the  aflict- 
cd  heart :  the  sentences  were  abrupt,  mournful,  paihetic» 
simple,  and  unembcUished ;  on  one  account,  indeed» 
more  elaborate  and  artificial,  because  they  consisted  of 
verse,  and  were  chaiittd  to  music.^ 

Many  vestiges  of  this  custom  are  found  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  prophets :  Cot  the  predictions  of  calamity 
impending  over  statt^s  and  eniptres  are  often  replete  with 
elegance,  and  generally  assume  the  form  of  a  funereal 
song.  But  this  reinark  will  be  more  cWarly  evidenced 
l)y  a  few  examples ;  and  these  examples  will  serve  at 
the  same  time  to  illustrate  what  has  been  alledged  con- 
cerningthis  custom.  Hear,  'says  the  prophet  Amos,  ad« 
dressing  the  Israelites,  and  denouncing  vengeance  and 
destruction  against  them,  and  their  govenxment. 

Hear  my  voice,  O  Israel,  hear  I  , 

Whilst  I  thy  fate  deplore  : 

i*hy  Virgin  dlnghter,  Sion  !  {alls-« 
ShlB  falls  to  rise  no  mbrt ! 

Ahti&lilAleaftei^',* 

Thr6ii)|^  the  streetSi  aad  thfrough  the  ptiiifl^ 

The  doleftil  ramour  flies  ( 
And  slLiihil  aaoumere  ruse  their  votce 

In  sad  funereal  cries* 

And  in  Jeremiah,  on  a  similar  oocasion,  Jehovah  of 
hosts  thus  addresses  his  people  :" 

^  See  Matt.  ix.  33,  Mnd  LidiiTMOT  Eiercitat.  Hebr.  and  Talmud,  in  loc. 

9  Amos  v.  1,  2. 

10  lb.  ▼.  16.  Tlie  particle  bN  in  the  last  clause  oUgcht  probably  to  W 
placed  at  the  beginning*  of  th^^t  clause.  So  the  Sira.  and  Va£fi.  read  it. 
See  Capeix.  Sac.  Crit.  B.  iv.  C.  xuL  i.    .4u/A«r*t  JVV#e. 

Jaa.  ix.  17—22. 


Let  those  ^e  1)-taught  in  Sorrow'^  sphoo) 

Re&oimd  the  notes  of  woe  ; 
And  mournful  music,  through  the  land, 

In  solemn  concord  iow  ; 
Tili  ^cv»  »t«M  rtuwm  fnwn  eiery  ^yp, 

y^ll  cfery  heart  shall  l^ar-f-— 
Hark)  'tis  the  mourner's  voice  that  sounds  1 

*Tia  S  ion's  airgr  I  hear  I 
Vanquished,  enthrallM,  to  plunder  giv'n> 

The  haughty  eity  falls ; 
Shrill  ikhriciks  of  wofi  aMd  respiii)^. 

While  iuifk  shfik.es  her  walls.— ^  ^ 

«  We  go— deserted  and  forlorn, 

"  To  rove  from  shore  to  shore  ;  ^ 

^  These  long-Iov'd  seats  no  more  to  viewi 

^  These  pleasapt  plains  no  more/'* ' 
Yet  hear  i-*'iis  bi^aven's  most  bigb  decide  I 

Thf  solemn  rites  prepare  I  ,        . 

Let  Sion's  daughters  raise  the  dirge. 

Replete  with  wild  despair. 
The  regal  dome,  the  sacred  fane, 

Stem  Death  invades,  and  wastes  the  land  { 
The  pride  vf  Israel  strews  (be  plam, 

Lijke  sb^^ves  beneath  the  reaper's  |)and. 

Mwy  in^lwQC^.of  d^e  «ame  kind  occur  tbrQii^u>t|t 
.liye  Propbets,  jn  vv^ich,  a»  Jin  these,  there  is  a  direct  al- 
lu^OQ  tp  the  inatitMUop  from  which  they  originated. 
There  w^  alw  ipaoy  otbtr  passages  evidently  of  the 
t^me  kindf  ^though  the  funeral  ceremonies  be  not  im- 
^qdiatcily  referred  to ;  and  the  peculiar  elegance  of 
Ihe^e  w.e  shaU  not  perceive,  unless  some  regard  be  paid 
t9  the  ot>ject  to  wiiiijh  they  allude*  The  examples  that 
I  haye  product  are,  I  apprehend*  sufficient  to  indicate 
the  nature  «ad  origin  of  this  species  of  poetry,  and  to 
demonstrate,  that  these  artificial  complaints  were  orig- 
inally formed  on  tlie  model,  and  expressed  in  the  lan- 
guage of  regl  sprrpvir»  J[lence  al^  it  will  be  apparent, 
j»  what  mannqr»  and  by  what  gradations»  the  JCmohp  qt 


S16  ELEGY.  L»CT.  21. 

lamentations  of  the  Hebrews,  assumed  the  form  of  a 
regular  poem  :  but  for  the  further  elucidation  of  this 
subject,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  examine  the  Lam- 
entations  of  Jeremiah,  the  most  remarkable  poem  of 
this  kind  extant,  according  to  the  principles  of  these 
funereal  compositions ;  for  unless  we  examine  it  in  this 
manner,  and  by  this  criterion,  it  will  be  impossible  to 
form  a  right  judgement  concerning  it. 

I  shall  endeavour  to  treat  of  this  extraordinary  pro- 
duction in  the  following  order :  First,  of  its  nature  and 
form  in  general ;  secondly,  of  the  metre  or  versification ; 
and  lastly,  of  the  subject,  the  sentiments,  and  imagery. 

The  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah  (for  the  title  is  prop- 
erly and  significantly  plural)  conust  of  a  number  of 
plaintive  eflfusions,  composed  upon  the  plan  of  the  fu^ 
neral  dir^s,  all  upon  the  same  subject,  and  uttered 
without  connexion  as  they  rose  in  the  mind,  in  a  long 
course  of  separate  stanzas.  These  have  afterwards  been 
put  together,  and  formed  into  a  collection  or  corres- 
pondent whole.  If  any  reader,  however,  should  ex- 
pect to  find  in  them  an  artificial  and  methodical  ar- 
rangement of  the  general  subject,  a  regular  disposition 
of  the  partai,  a  perfect  connexion  and  orderly  succes- 
sion in  the  matter,  and  with  all  this,  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  elegance  and  correctness,  he  will  really  expect 
what  was  foreign  to  the  prophet's  design.  In  the  char- 
acter of  a  mourner,  he  celebrates  in  plaintive  strains  the 
obsequies  of  his  ruined  country ;  whatever  presented 
itself  to  his  mind  in  the  midst  of  desolation  and  misery, 
whatever  struck  him  as  particularly  wretched  and  ca- 
lamitous, whatever  the  instant  sentiment  c^  sorrow  dic- 
tated, he  pours  forth  in  a  kind  of  spontaneous  effusion. 
He  frequently  pauses,  and,  as  it  were,  ruminates  upon 
^  sane  object ;   frequendy  varies  and  illustrates  t^ 


Lkot.  3».  ELEGY.  3ir 

same  thought  with  different  imagery,  and  a  different 
choice  of  language ;  so  that  the  whole  bears  rather  the 
appearance  of  an  accumulation  of  corresponding  sen- 
timents, than  an  accurate  and  connected  series  of  dif- 
ferent ideas,  arranged  in  the  form  of  a  regular  treatise. 
I  would  not  be  understood  to  insinuate,  that  the  author 
has  paid  no  regard  whatever  to  order  or  arrangement ; 
or  that  transitions  truly  elegant  from  one  subject,  image, 
or  character,  to  another,  are  not  sometimes  to  be  found ; 
this  only  I  wish  to  remark,  that  the  nature  and  design 
of  this  poem  (being  in  reality  a  collection  of  different 
sentiments  or  subjects,  each  of  which  assumes  the  form 
of  a  funeral  dirge)  neither  require,  nor  even  admit  of  a 
methodical  arrangement.  The  whole  poem,  however, 
may  be  divided  into  five  parts ;  in  the  first,  second, 
and  fourth,  the  prophet  addresses  the  people  in  his  own 
person,  or  else  personifies  Jerusalem,  and  introduces 
that  city  as  a  character ;  the  third  part  is  supposed  to 
be  uttered  by  the  chorus  of  Jews,  represented  by  their 
leader,^  after  the  manner  of  the  Greek  tragedies :  and 
in  the  fifth,  the  whole  nation  of  the  Jews,  on  being  led 
into  captivity,  pour  fourth  their  united  complaints  to 
Almighty  God.  This  last,  as  well  as  the  others,  is  di- 
vided into  twenty-two  periods,  according  to  the  number 
of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet ;  with  this  difference,  that 
in  the  four  other  parts  the  initial  letters  of  each  |>eriod 
exactly  correspond  with  the  alphabetical  order.  And 
from  this(  circumstance  we  have  been  enabled  to  form 
some  little  judgement  concerning  the  Hebrew  metres. 

IS  Thu9  in  rene  14,  the  ^09  ib  in  the  eonslructive  fiur  the- absolute  form. 
The  Stb.  omits  the  pronoun.  $tc  a  note  on  Lect.  ziii.  80  also  it  appears 
the  same  word  ought  to  be  understood  Psaui  cxliv.  3.  Compare  likewise 
Tbalm  xrul  48,  xlvil  4.  See  Pooock  JVoI.  in  Pff,  •Mbiit,  p.  60.  **  Liw^ 
^  iiL  14,  two  MSS.  have  D^D9«  And  observe,  that  in  M88.  the  plural  O^  i% 
9  often  expressed  K**    K.        Autkm^i  JV^to. 


31«  fiLEGY.  Lpcr-  9%. 

The  acnostic  or  alphabejtica)  poetiy  of  the  Hebrews  vj^ 
certainly  intended  to  assist  the  memory,  and  w^  conQor 
«d  altogether  to  tho^e  Qompo^itionSt  vvhic^  consisted  of 
detached  maxims  or  sentiments  withpvit  any  express  or- 
der or  connection/^    The  san^e  custpm  is  said  to  have 
been  prevalent,  indeed  is  said  still  to  prevail  in  sppie  do» 
gree,  among  the  Syrians,  the  Persians,  and  the  Ar^ibs.^* 
With  how  much  propriety  the  prophet  .i;ia$  employe^ 
this  £orm  of  compositki],  on  t.he  present  occasion,  ip 
evident  from  what  has  been  said  cpocem^i^  the  oaturp 
of  this  poem.    The  manner  and  order  pf  t^s  l^ind  qf 
verse  is  as  follows :  Each  of  the  five  p^its,  ^  gnmd  di- 
visions is  subdivided  into  twenty-two  periods»  or  stanzas; 
these  periods  in  the  three  first  parts  ace  all  of  tbeto  trip- 
Jets,  in  other  words,  Qonsist  ea^^  three  lipes,  oply,  ip 
each  of  the  two  former  parts,  there  is  one  period  coa- 
sistiog  of  four  lines."    In  the  jB^ur  first  parts,  the  initial 
letter  of  each  period  follows  the  <n*der  pf  the  alphabet; 
but  the  third  part  is  so  very  reguJiar,  that  every  line  ,i^ 
the  same  period  begins  with  tfie  sm)e  letter,  so  as  neces- 
sarily to  ascertain  tlie  length  of  every  verse  qr  line  in 
that  poem  :  indeed,  even  in  the  others,  though  the  \\i\t^ 
are  not  dbtinctly  marked  in  this  m^Rncr,  \t  is  qp  difficult 
matter  to  ascertain  their  limits,  by  resolvir\g  the  sen- 
tences into  their  constituent  members.    By  this  mode 
of  computation  it  appears,  that  in  the  fqui:th  p^  all  the 
periods  consist  of  disticht^,^  as  4^)  ip  the  fifth,  which  is 

^  M.  MIchaelis  very  justly  remarks,  that  except  the  LunentAtions  of 
^ereauMh,  and  the  xzzviith  Paalm,  none  ,of  the  alphabetic  po^ms  of  the 
Hebrews  rise  in  any  degree  above  mediocrity.  A  certain  indication,  that 
however  useful  this  kind  of  diacriminat^pn  n^ght  he  on  Bom^  occasiong,  in 
assisting  the  menoiy  of  children  and  the  vulg^,  yet  such  minute  arts  are 
in  geneml  inconsistent  with  true  genius.    T- 

)4  See  AasjutJkir  BiblMthtc  Orientai,  VqI.  ULp.  ^,  ISO,  188,  328. 

1'  In  Ch^  i  I»  in  Chap.  ii.  P* 

16  But  the  period  D  as  it  is  now  read,  can  neither  be  conYenienUy'  distrv* 
|>uted  into  two,  nor  into  three  verses.    ^uUwi^t  JVote, 


L»CT.  32.  ELEGV.'  i\9 

not  acrostic ;  but  in  tliis  I  )st  part  I  must  remark  another 
peculiarity,  namely,  that  the  lines  are  extremely  short, 
whereas  in  all  the  rest  they  are  long. 

The  length  of  these  metres  is  worthy  of  notice  :  we 
find  in  this  poem  lines  or  verses,  which  are  evidently 
Ibliger  by  almost  one  half,  than  those  which  occur  usu** 
aUy ,  and  oh  other  occasions.  The  length  of  them  seem^ 
to  be,  on  an  average,  about  twelve  syllables ;  there  are  a 
few  Which  do  not  quite  amount  to  that  number,  and 
there  are  a  few  which  perhaps  exceed  it  by  two  or  three 
sjrlhbles :  for  although  nothing  certain  can  be  determin- 
ed concerning  the  number  of  sytlabtes  (in  truth  I  pay  no 
attention  to  the  fictions  of  the  Masorites)  there  is  room, 
neverthetess,  for  very  probable  conjecture.  We  are  not 
tb  supposfe  this  peculiar  form  of  versification  utterly 
without  design  or  itnportance  :  on  the  contrary,  I  am 
persuaded,  that  the  prophet  adopted  this  kind  of  metre 
as  being  more  diffuse,  more  copious,  more  tender,  in  all 
respects  better  adapted  to  melancholy  subjects.  I  must 
add,  that  in  all  probability  the  funeral  dirges,  which  were 
sung  by  the  mourners,  were  commonly  composed  in  this 
kind  of  verse ;  for  whenever,  in  the  prophets,  any  fune- 
real  lamentations  occur,  or  any  passages  formed  upon 
tfiat  plan,  the  versification  is,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  of 
this  protracted  kind.  If  this  tht-n  be  the  case,  we  have 
discovered  a  true  legitimate  form  of  elegy  in  the  poetry 
of  the  Hebrews.  It  ought,  however,  to  be  remarked, 
that  the  same  kind  of  metre  is  sometimes,  though  rarelyi 
employed  upon  other  occasions  by  the  sacred  poets,  as 
it  was  indeed  by  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  There  are, 
moreover,  some  poems  manifestly  of  the  elegiac  kind, 
which  are  composed  in  the  usual  metre,  and  not  in  un- 
connected stanzas,  according  to  the  form  of  a  funeral 
dirge. 


«ao  ELEGV.  LBcT.JZd 

Thus  far  in  general  as  to  the  nature  and  method  of 
the  poem,  and  the  form  of  the  versification ;  it  remains 
to  offer  a  kw  remarks  concerning  the  subject  and  the 
style. 

That  the  subject  of  the  Lamentations  is  the  destruc* 
tion  of  the  holy  city  and  temple,  the  overthrow  of  the 
state,  the  exterminauon  of  the  people,  and  that  these 
events  are  described  as  actually  accdtaplished,  and  not 
in  the  style  of  prediction  merely,  must  be  evident  to  ev« 
eiy  reader.  Though  some  authors  of  considerable  rep. 
utation^^  have  imagined  this  poem  to  have  been  compos- 
ed on  the  death  of  king  Josiah.  The  prophet,  indeed» 
has  so  copiously,  so  tenderly,  and  poetically  bewailed 
the  misfortunes  of  his  country,  that  he  seems  complete- 
ly to  have  fulfilled  the  office  and  duty  of  a  mourner.  In 
my  opinion,  there  is  not  extant  any  poem,  which  displays 
such  a  happy  and  splendid  selection  of  imagery  in  so 
concentrated  a  state.  What  can  be  mcH^e  elegant  and 
poetical,  than  the  description  of  that  once  flourishing  ci- 
ty,  lately  chief  among  the  nations,  sitting  in  the  charac- 
ter of  a  female,  solitary,  afflicted,  in  a  state  of  widow- 
hood, deserted  by  her  friends,  betrayed  by  her  dearest 
connections,  imploring  relief,  and  seeking  consolation 
in  vain?  What  a  beautiful  personification  is  that  of 
^*  the  Ways  of  Sion  mourning  because  none  are  come 
**  to  her  solemn  feasts  ?"  How  tender  and  pathetic  are 
the  following  complaints  ? 

^<  Is  this  nothing  to  all  you  who  pass  along  the  way  ?  behold  and 

**  sec, 
<<  If  there  be  any  sorrow,  like  unto  my  sorrov,  which  is  inflicted 

«<  on  me ; 
<«  Which  Jehovah  iuBictec]  on  me  in  the  day  of  the  violence  of 

«<  his  wrath. 
M  For  these  things  I  weep,  my  eyes  stream  with  water ; 

17  JoSKPttVfl»  JSKOXK,  UsSXJUVSj  Scc. 


A  Because  the  comforter  u  fiur  awaj,  that  should  tranquilliie  mf 

<«8oul: 
**  My  children  are  desolatCi because  the  enemy  was  strong**'^ 

But  to  detail  its  beauties  would  be  to  transcribe  the  en- 
tire poem,  I  shall  make  but  one  remark  relative  to  cer* 
tain  passages,  ajid  to  the  former  part  of  the  second  alpha- 
bet in  particular..  If,  in  this  passage,  the  Prophet  should 
be  thought  by  some  to  aflfect  a  style  too  bdd  and  ener* 
getic  for  the  expression  of  sorrow,  let  them  only  advert 
to  the  greatness  of  the  subject,  its  importance,  sanctity» 
and  solemnity ;  and  let  them  consider  that  the  nature  of 
the  performance  absolutely  required  these  to  be  set  forth 
in  a  style  suitable,  in  some  degree  at  least,  to  their  in- 
herent dignity;  let  them  attentively  consider  these 
things,  and  I  have  not  a  doubt,  but  they  will  readily  ex* 
cuse  the  sublimity  of  the  prophet. 

tt  Lam.  L  U»  and  la.   In  the  last  vene  the  word  vy  it  n^  repeated  ki 
^  old  tcanslaUoae. 


41 


LECTURE  XXIII. 

6P  the  tFEMAINING  mj^ODSS  OF  THfi  HEBREWS. 

Uvof  poems  of  this  kind  itill  extant  In  the  writings  of  the  Hebrews.- 
eollection  of  Elegies  or  Lunentations  appears  to  be  lost.— Elegies  in  Eze> 
kiel. — Msny  passages  in  Job  may  be  accounted  Elegiac. — ^Aboat  a  ser- 
enth  part  of  the  book  of  Fsalms  consists  of  Elegies.— A  perfect  specimen 
of  elegiac  poetry  from  the  Psalms.^— The  Lamentation  of  Oayid  over  Saul 
and  Jonathan  explained  :  attempted  in  English  yerse. 

Ls  the  last  Lecture  the  nature  and  origin  of  the  He- 
brew Elegy  was  explained ;  the  form  and  commence- 
ment of  that  species  of  poetry  was  traced  into  the  sol- 
emn dirges  which  were  chanted  at  funerals  by  the  pro* 
fessed  mourners ;  and  this  was  confirmed  by  instances 
taken  from  those  short  Elegies  or  Lamentations  which 
occur  in  the  Prophets,  an4  by  an  accurate  examination 
of  that  remarkable  poem,  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah. 
I  shall  now  treat  of  some  other  poems,  which,  although 
they  do  not  exactly  assume  the  form  of  a  funereal  dirge, 
are  nevertheless  to  be  comprehended  in  thb  class. 

That  the  Hebrews  were  formerly  possessed  of  some 
collection  of  elegies  or  lamentations,  which  has  not  been 
transmitted  to  us,  we  may  understand  from  that  passage 
of  sacred  history,'  in  which  mention  is  mude  of  the  sol- 
emn mourning  publicly  celebrated  at  the  funeral  of  Jo- 
siah  ;  where  it  appears  that  a  poem,  composed  for  the 
occasion  by  Jertrmiah  the  prophet,  amongst  others  had 
a  place.     Though  the  book,  which  is  on  this  occasion 

1  2  Chron.  zxxv.  25. 


Lbct.  SS.         the  elegiac  POETRY»  &c.  $%$ 

referred  to,  and  which  probably  contained  the  most  ex* 
cellent  of  the  Hebrew  ekgies,  appears  to  be  lost»  tberp 
are  still  extant  many  specimens  of  this  kind. of  poetry; 
whence  we  may  reasonably  infer,  that  no  species  of 
composition  was  more  in  use  amoag  the  Hebrews  thaa 
the  elegiac,  the  ode  perhaps  only  excepted, 

Iq  the  first  place,  beside  those  short  dirges,  which 
4iccur  in  the  writings  of  almost  all  the  prophets,  as  was 
before  xemarkod,  there  are  some  in  Ezekiel»  which  are 
actually  distii^uished  by  the  title  oi'  Lamentations,  and 
which  may  with  the  utmost  propriety  be  referred  to  tlie 
dass of  Elegies.  Among  these  are  the  two  lamentations 
eoncemiog  Tyre,  and  the  king  of  Tyre/  In  these, 
though  the  intent  of  the  prophet  be  to  denounce  ven* 
geance  and  punishment  against  these  objects  pf  the  di« 
vine  wrath,  rather  than  to  lament  their  misfortunes;  and 
diough  he  succeed  in  his  aim  of  exciting  terror  instead 
of  pity,  yet  the  naoumful  nature  di^  the  subject  fully 
corresponds  with  the  title,  and  both  the  matter  and  tt^l» 
fieatimeitfs  bear  some  degree  of  resemblance  to  the  fu- 
nereal songs.  According  to  the  custom  which  prevail*, 
ed  on  those  solemn  occasions,  the  glory,  riches,  and 
power  of  the  deceased  are  pompously  enumerated ;  and 
thus  by  contrasting  his  former  prosperity  with  tl^  pres- 
ent calamity,  the  effect  is  considerably  augmentbd.  As 
for  the  two  prophecies,'  in  which  the  destruction  of  & 
gypt  is  predicted,  they  seem  to  have  been  entitled  La- 
mentations merely  fix>m  the  mournful  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject ;  for  they  contain  nothing  of  the  elegiac  form  or 
style,  scarcely  any  sentiment  expressive  of  sorrow,  and 
seem  altogether  composed  for  the  denunciation  ot*  ven- 
geance, and  the  exciting  of  terror.  Two  other  Lamen- 
tations,^ the  one  over  the  princes  of  Judah,  and  the  other 

s  EzsK.  xxTii.  and  zsviiU  12—19.  ^  fiuK.  xxxii, 

4  ESSK.  xix. 


5M  THE  ELEGIAC  POETRY  Lbct.  Vk 

over  Jerasalem,  majr  be  explained  upon  dmilar  princi» 
pies :  they  are  indeed  poetical  paraUes,  and  have  bees 
already  noticed  in  their  proper  [dace. 

There  are  aUo  many  passages  in  that  most  admirable 
poem,  which  bears  the  name  of  Job/  deserving  to  be 
accounted  legitimate  elegies :  and  indeed  I  do.  not  knov 
any  more  perfect  specimens  of  this  species  of  composi- 
tion ;  so  completely  are  the  inmost  recesses  of  sorroir 
di^)layed,  and  the  remotest  fountains  of  pity  explored 
and  laid  open.  But  ^ncc  these  are  parts  of  an  entire 
poem,  they  are  not  rasUy  to  be  detached  from  the  body 
of  the  work ;  and  sinoe  the  elegant  disposition,  and  the 
extraordinary  beauties  of  this  inimitable  CQmpoaitiany 
will  deserve  a  fuller  examination,  it  is  sufficient  in  this 
place  to  have  mentioned  these  passages  as  exqui^ 
treasures,  which  the  Muse  of  Sorrow  might  legally  claim 
as  her  own,  were  she  disposed  to  assert  her  rigid  rights. 

I  proceed,  therefore,  to  the  book  of  Psalms,  which  is 
a  collection,  under  the  general  title  of  hymns  to  the 
praise  of  God,  containing  poems  of  different  kinds,  and 
elegies  among  the  rest.  If  indeed  the  contents  of  the 
book  were  methodically  arranged  in  their  proper  classes, 
not  less  than  a  sixth  or  seventh  part  would  appear  to  be 
elegiac.  Since,  however,  this  is  a  matter  dependant  in 
a  great  measure  upon  opinion,  and  not  to  be  cleariy  de« 
monstrated  upon  determinate  principles ;  sibk  the  na-» 
ture  of  the  subject,  the  complexion  of  the  style,  or  the 
general  feirm  and  disposition  of  each  poem,  must  decide 
the  question ;  and  since  di&rent  persons  will  judge  dif- 
ferently upon  these  points )  it  wiU  hardly  be  expected 
that  I  should  on  this  occasion  proceed  to  the  reg^ular 
classification  of  them.  It  will  indeed  be  more  to  ytiur 
advantage,  and  more  to  our  present  purpose,  to  sded 

4  See  Job,  cbap.  ui.  vi.  tiL  x.  jir,  xriL  six.  zxiz.  xxx. 


LxcT.SS^  OF  THE  HEBREWS.  $%$ 

an  example  which  may  be  clearly  demonstrated  to  be- 
long to  the  elegiac  class. 

Under  this  appellation  then  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  re* 
commend  to  your  notice  the  finrty-second  Psalm,  since 
I  cannot  help  esteeming  it  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
specimens  of  the  Hebrew  elegy.  The  author  of  this 
elegant  complaint,  exiled  from  the  temple,  and  from  the 
public  exercise  ci  his  religion,  to  the  extreme  parts  of 
Judea,  persecuted  by  his  numerous  enemies,  and  ab- 
lated by  their  reproaches,  pours  forth  his  soul  to  God 
in  this  tender  and  pathetic  composition.  The  ardent 
feelings  of  a  devout  heart  are  admirably  expressed,  while 
the  memory  of  former  felicity,  seems  to  aggravate  his 
present  anguish.  The  extreme  anxiety  of  a  mind,  de* 
pressed  by  the  burthen  of  sorrow,  and  yet  at  the  same 
time  impatient  under  it ;  overcome  by  an  accumulation  of 
evils,  yet  in  some  degree  endeavouring  to  resist  them,  and 
admitting,  through  the  dark  cloud  of  affliction,  a  glim- 
mering ray  of  hope  and  consolati(Mi,  is  finely  depicted. 
In  frequent  and  almost  instantaneous  transitions  he  glows 
with  love,  and  droops  with  lamentation ;  he  complains, 
he  expostulates ;  he  despairs,  and  yet  hc^s ;  he  is  af- 
flicted, and  again  consoled.  It  is  not  to  be  expected 
that  any  poetical  version  should  express  these  sentiments 
with  the  force,  the  energy,  and  more  particularly  with 
the  conciseness  of  the  Hebrew,  which  is  indeed  not  to 
be  imitated  in  any  other  language :  though  it  must  be 
confessed,  that  thb  poem  is  more  diffuse  than  the  He« 
\>nw  poetry  in  general.  The  following  paraphrase, 
however,  though  infinitely  short  of  the  original  in  subn 
]imi^,  will  perhaps  serve  to  evince  the  correspondence) 
of  the  subject  and  sentiments  of  thb  poem,  with  tt^ 
degiac  productions  of  modem  times : 


396  THE  ELEGIAC  POETRY  Ltct.SS. 

As  pants  tbe  wearied  hart  for  cooling  springs 

That  sinks  exhausted  in  the  summer's  chase  ; 
So  pants  mj  soul  for  thee,  great  King  o(  kings  I 

So  thirsts  to  reach  thy  sacred  resting-place. 
On  briny  tear&*  my  famfsh'd  soul  has  fed, 

While  taunting  fees  deride  my  deep  despair; 
«  Say,  where  u  now  thy  great  DeliTercr  fled  f 

«<  Thy  mighty  God— Deserted  wandereri  where  V* 
Oft  dweU  my  thoughu  on  those  thrice  happy  days. 

When  to  thy  fane  i  led  the  jocund  throng ; 
Our  mirth  was  worship,  all  our  pleasure  praise, 

And  festal  joys  still  clus'd  with  sacred  song. 
Why  throb,  my  heart  i  Why  sink,  my  sadd'ning  soul  f 

Why  droop  to  earth  with  various  woes  oppress'd  ? 
My  years  shall  yet  in  blissful  circles  noB, 

And  joy  be  yet  an  inmate,  of  this  breast. 
By  Jordan's  banks  with  devious  sieps  I  stray^ 

O'er  Uermon's  rugged  rocks,  and  deserts  drear; 
Ev'n  there  thy  hand  shall  guide  my  lonely  way, 

There,  thy  remembrance  shall  my  spirit  cheer. 
In  rapid  floods  the  yemal  torrents  roll, 

Harsh-sounding  cataracts  responsive  roar ; 
Thine  angry  billows  overwhelm  my  soul. 

And  dash  my  shattered  bark  from  shore  to  shore. 
Yet  thy  soft  mercies,  ever  in  my  sight, 

My  heart  ahall  gladden  throu^  the  tedious  diyr  ( 
And  midst  the  dark  and  gloomy  shades  oi  night, 

To  thee  Til  iondly  tune  the  grateful  lay. 
Rock  of  my  hope  !  Great  solace  of  my  heart ! 

Why,  why  desert  the  offspring  of  thy  care, 
While  taunting  foes  thus  point  ih'  invidious  dait  i 
.  «  Where's  now  thy  God  1  abantkm'd  wanderer,  where  V 
Why  faint  my  soul  ?  why  doubt  J^sovi^h's  aid  ? 

Thy  God,  the  God  of  mercy  still  shall  prove  I 
In  his  bnght  fane  thy  thanks  shall  yet  be  paid  ; 

Unquestion'd  be  his  pity  and  his  love  I^ 

s  It  leeniB  odd  to  an  Engliah  reader  to  ttprtavA  $em  m  mtai  or  /W; 
bat  we  should  remember,  that  the  sustenance  of  tbe  ancients  Hebrews  con- 
listed  for  the  most  part  of  liquids,  such  as  broths,  ptitajret,  &c.    8.  H. 

'  This  peem  seems  to  have  been  composed  by  David,  when  he  was  ex- 


Lkct.  ts.  OF  THE  HEBREWS.  M7 

Anot)ier  point»  to  which  I  would  wish  every  .person, 
who  reads  this  Psalm  in  the  original  to  advert,  is  the 

pelled  his  kingdom  by  his  rebdllious  son,  and  compelled  to  fly  to  the  borders 
of  Liebanon,  as  it  is  plain  he  did,  from  2  Saw.  zvii.  24,  26,  27.  Undoubt* 
edly,  whoever  composed  this  Psalm  was  expelled  from  the  saered  city,  and 
wandered  as  an  exile  in  the  regions  of  Hermon»  and  the  heights  of  Leba- 
non, whtnce  Jordan  is  fed  by  the  melting  of  the  perpetual  snow,  Ver.  7. 
Let  it  be  remembered,  by  the  way,  that  David  never  betook  himself  to  these 
places  when  he  fled  from  Sanl,  but  concealed  himself  in  the  interior  parts 
of  Judea.  Here  then  he  pitched  his  camp,  protected  by  the  surroundings 
mountains  and  woods ;  and  hither  the  veteran  soldiers,  attached  personally 
to  him,  and  averse  to  change,  resorted  from  every  part  of  Palestme.  Here 
dsoy  indulging  his  melancholy,  the  prospect  and  the  objects  about  him, 
suggested  many  of  the  ideas  in  this  poem.  Observing  the  deer  which  con- 
stantly came  from  the  distant  valleys  to  the  fountains  of  Lebanon,  and  com- 
paxing  this  circumstance  with  his  earnest  desire  to  revisit  the  temple  of 
God,  and  perhaps  elevating  his  thoughts  to  a  higher,  celestial  temple,  he 
commences  his  poem  i 

*'  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks, 

*'  So  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God. 

«<  My  soul  thirsteth  fbr  God,  Ibr  the  living  God : 

<*  When  shall  I  enter,  and  appear  before  God  !" 
That  is,  enter  into  the  temple^  from  which  I  am  now  an  exile.  He  adds  a 
bitterer  cause  of  grief  than  his  exile,  namely,  the  reproaches  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  the  cruel  taunt,  that  he  is  deterted  ofhia  God^  and  that  the  Deity, 
of  whom  he  had  boasted,  fails  to  appear  to  his  assi&tance,  than  which  noth- 
ing can  be  more  grating  to  an  honest  mind,  and  a  mind  conscious  of  its 
own  piety.    Ck>mpare  2  Sax.  xvt  7,  8. 

**  My  tears  have  been  my  sustenance, 

**  By  day  and  by  night, 

**  While  they  continually  say  unto  me, 

•*  Where  is  now  thy  God  T 

The  repetition  of  the  name  of  God  raises  in  him  fresh  uneasiness,  and 
causes  all  his  wounds  to  bleed  again :  this  forces  him  to  exclaim :  "  I  re- 
member God,  and  I  dissolve  in  tears.**  For  so  the  word  rrbn  ought  to  be 
translated,  and  not  according  to  the  Masoretic  punctuation,  **  I  remember 
iheee  thinge  .***  since  an  obscurity  arises  firom  this  punctuation,  and  it  is 
difficult  to  say  what  things  are  referred  to. 

"  I  remember  God,  and  pour  out  myself  in  tears : 
**  When  I  went  with  the  multitude  to  the  temple  of  God, 
**  With  the  voice  of  joy  and  gladness,  \^\k  the  multitude  leaping  for  joy.** 
He  now  restrains  his  tears : 

"  Why  act  thou  so  cast  down,  O  my  soul } 


399  THE  ELEOIAC  POETRY  Lfter.  9S. 

division  of  the  periodst  and  the  resdution  of  them  into 
their  constituent  parts  or  members ;  he  will  findi  I  be*» 
lieve,  that  the  periods  spontaneously  divide  into  verses 
of  nearly  equal  length  and  measure,  exactly  ^milar  ta 
those  of  the  four  first  chapters  of  the  Lamentations  of 
Jeremiah ;  such  as  I  before  remarked  appeared  to  con* 
stitute  the  established  metre  of  the  Hebrew  Elegy» 
The  whole  of  the  nineteenth  Psalm  consists  also  of  the 
same  kind  of  verse,  except  the  epode^  which  contains 
two  long  verses  of  the  same  kind,  and  one  shorter, 
which  last  is  once  repeated.  The  forQr-third  Psalm  too 
seems  to  be  constructed  upon  similar  principlesi  con- 
taining eight  of  the  same  kind  of  verses,  mth  the  same 
epode.  And  since  it  is  written  in  the  same  train  of 
sentiment,  the  same  style,  and  even  apparently  in  the 
same  metre,  it  ought  not  perhaps  to  be  separaled  firom 
the  preceding  Psahn,*  but  •rather  to  be  considered  as  a 

'<  And  why  art  thou  so  disquieted  inthin  me  f 
**  Hope  thou  in  God»  for  I  still  shall  praise  him.** 
He  s^un  breaks  forth  into  lamentations,  with  which  he  eleganUy  intermin- 
gles a  poetical  description  of  Lebanon.    There  are  upon  those  hiUs  fre- 
quent cataracu,  and»  in  the  springy  season»  the  rivulets  are  uncommonly 
turbid  by  the  melting*  of  the  snow : 

*'  Deep  calleth  unto  deep  at  the  noise  of  thy  cataracts ; 

**  And  all  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  are  gone  over  me.** 
These  form  the  principal  imagery  of  the  poem,  and  I  omit  the  rest,  lest  I 
should  fatigue  the  reader  by  the  minuteness  of  criticism,  which  is  both 
useless  and  impertinent,  when  the  subject  wants  no  illustration.    H. 

B  1  find  EuBsmus  was  formerly  of  the  same  opinion.  *'  This  Paalm  is 
**  without  a  title  in  the  original,  and  consequently  in  all  the  old  transla- 
'<  tions :  tlicre  is  indeed  great  reason,  from  the  similarity  of  thought  and 
'*  expression  in  both  the  Psaims,  to  believe  that  it  originally  made  a  part 
**  of  the  Psalm  preceding."  In  Psalm  xliii.  this  conjecture  reccA«s  fur- 
ther confirmation  from  the  manuscripts.  **  The  xliid  and  xliiid  Psalms  are 
"  unitcil  together  in  twenty-two  MSS.  The  Psalms,  however,  are  distin- 
'*  guished  from  each  other  in  the  MSS.  rarely  by  the  numeral  letters,  but 
*'  chiefly  by  these  two  methods  :  either  by  a  single  word  placed  in  the  va- 
**  cant  space  between  them»  which  is  usually  the  breadth  of  ont  line :  and 


la&cT,  la.  OF  THE  HEBREWS.  SM 

put  or  continuation  of  the  same  eomposition :  if  this  be 
true,  the  whole  poem  consists  of  three  parts  almost  e- 
qual  and  alike,  each  of  which  is  concluded  by  the  same 
ime^cahuy  period  or  stanza. 

There  is  another  most  beautiful  poem  of  the  elegiac 
kind,  which  on  this  occasion  solicits  our  attention,  I 
mean  the  Lamentation  of  David  for  Saul  and  Jonathan  ;* 
which  appears  to  have  been  extracted  by  the  historian 
from  some  poetical  book,  no  longer  extant,  entitled 
Jasher.^    It  will  not,  I  Matter  myself,  be  thought  un* 

**  this  .word  is.  commonly  the  last  word  of  the  preceding»  or  the  initial  word 
**  of  the  succeeding'  Psalm  ;  or  else  by  the  first  word  of  each  Psalm  being 
*•  transcribed  in  letters  of  a  larger  size."    K.        Author'i  JVbte. 

•  2Sak.  1,17—37. 

K  Staoe  so  many  conjectures  have  been  published  concerBing'  the  book 
ofJiuher  and  its  title,  without  coming  to  any  certain  decision»  I  will  also, 
without  further  apology,  venture  to  give  my  sentiments  upon  it.   The  book 
of  Jather  is  twice  quoted,  first  in  Josa.  z  13,  where  the  quotation  is  evi- 
dently poetkftl,  and  forms  exactly  three  distichs  : 
*<  Sun,  stand  thou  still  upon  Gibeon, 
"  And  thou  Moon,  in  the  valley  of  Ajalon  : 
"  And  the  Sun  stood  still,  and  the  Moon  stayed  her  course, 
*•  Until  the  people  were  avenged  of  their  enemies. 
**  And  the  Sun  tarried  in  the  midst  of  the  heavens» 
"  And  hasted  not  to  go  down  in  a  whole  day." 
And  afierwards  in  the  passage  referred  to  m  the  text,  we  find  the  above 
lamentation  of  David  extracted  ftom  it    The  custom  of  the  Hebrews  giv- 
ing tides  to  their  books  from  the  initial  word  is  well  known,  as  Genesis  is 
called  BeretMt^  8u^   They  also  sometimes  named  the  book,  from  some  re- 
markable word  in  the  first  sentence ;   thus  the  book  of  Kumbers  is  some- 
times called  Bemidbar,    We  find  also  in  their  writings,  canticles  which  had 
been  produced  on  important  occasions,  introduced  by  some  form  of  lliis 
kind  ;  axjashar  (<Aen  ««!§•)  or  ve-jcuhar  peloni,  &c.  thus  azjaahir  Mosheh, 
'*  then  sung  Moses,"  Exod.  xv.  1.  (the  Sana  a.  restds  Jtuher)  ve^ihathar  He- 
brahf  **  and  Deborah  sang,"  Jun.  v.  1.    See  also  tlie  same  inscription  of 
PsAiiM  xviii.    Thus  I  suppose  the  book  of  Jather  to  have  been  some  collec- 
tion of  sacred  songs,  composed  at  different  times  and  on  different  occasions, 
and  to-  have  had  this  title,  because  the  book  itself  and  most  of  the  songs 
began  iu  general  witli  this  word :  ve-jathar.   And  the  old  SrniAc  translator 
was  certiunly  of  this  opinion,  when  in  these  places  he  substituted  the  word 
OMhir  (he  sung ;)  the  meaning  of  which,  says  the  Ababic  commentator,  U 

42 


290  THE  ELEGIAC  POETRT  Lkt.IS. 

reasonable  .to  request  your  attention,  while  I  endeavour 
to  investigate,  with  some  degree  of  accuracy,  the  nature 
and  composition  of  this  poem. 

The  poet  treats,  though  in  no  common  manner,  two 
common  topics,  and  those  the  best  adapted  to  the  genu- 
ine  elegy  ;  that  I  mean  which  was  employed  in  the  cele- 
bration of  the  funeral  rites ;  he  expresses  his  own  sor- 
row ;  and  he  celebrates  the  praises  of  the  deceased. 
Both  sentiments  are  displayed  in  the  exordium  ;  but, 
as  m^ht  naturally  be  expected,  sorrow  b  predominant» 
and  bursts  forth  with  the  impetuosity  of  exclamation : 

M  The  glorj  of  Israel  is  slain  on  the  high  places  : 

««  How  are  the  init^hiy  fallen  I" 

Grief  is  of  a  timid  and  suspicious  temper ;  and  alwajrs 
ready  at  inventing  causes  for  self-torment  %  easily  oflfend- 
ed  by  neglect,  and  utterly  impatient  of  ridicule  or  con- 
tempt : 

^  Thtj  heard  that  I  sighed,  for  there  was  none  to  comfort  me  : 
M  All  mine  enemies  have  heard  of  my  calamity,  and  rejoiced  that 
thou  inflictedst  it.''^^ 

So  Jerusalem  complains  in  Jeremiah,  exaggerating  in  the 
strongest  terms  her  own  misfortunes.  Our  poet  feels 
and  expresses  himself  in  almost  the  same  manner : 

*^  Declare  it  net  in  Gath, 

**>  Pobiifth  it  not  in  the  streeu  of  Aacalon ; 

<«  Lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines  rejoice, 

«*  Lest  the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  triumph.*^ 

^  boQk  oftong-t  f  in  another  place  he  hiniBelf  ezplainB  it  by  a  word  exprts- 
flive  of  J/gmnt.  T,  however»  agree  in  opinion  with  thoae,  who  suppose  this 
L;imentation  originally  to  have  borne  the  title  of  Xethei  (a  bow)  either  in 
memory  of  the  slaughter  made  by  tlie  archers  of  the  enemy,  or  from  the 
A«w  of  Jonathan,  of  which  particular  mention  is  made  verse  22.  The  VIX 
seem  to  have  favoured  this  opinion. 

"  KosB,  or  rather  ko§,  signifies  in  Arabic  t9  meamtre,  as  is  remarked  by 
"  the  teamed  Michaelis  :  but  I  do  not  remember  an  instance  of  this  won! 
«« being  used  to  signify  poetic  measure  (or  metre)."    H.        Amhor^M  Mktc. 

n  Lax.  I  2U 


LsoT.  tS.  OF  THE  HEBREWS.  331 

The  same  passion  isalao  suUen  and  querulous,  wayward 
and  peevish,  unable  to  restrain  its  impatience,  and  firing; 
at  every  thing  that  opposes  iu  *^  Would !  ne'er  that  in 
**  the  Pelian  grove'' — says  one  of  the  characters  in  the 
Medea  of  Enmus.^  On  another  occasion  we  find  a 
person  inveighing  against  the  innocent  mountain : 

»  Alas  1  Betrayer,  barren  and  accurst ! 

««  What  mem  what  heroea  hast  thou  not  deatroyed  ? 

M  Faul  alone  to  those,  whose  patriot  worth 

<<  Their  noble  birth  by  noblest  acts  proclaim*d.''^' 

Our  poet  is  not  more  temperate : 

»  O  mountains  of  Gilboa,  let  there  be  no  dew  nor  rain  upon  you  !^ 
If  these  passages  were  brought  before  the  severe  tribunal 
of  reason,  nothing  could  appear  more  absurd  ;  but  if 
examined  by  the  criterion  of  the  passions,  nothing  can 
be  more  consonant  to  nature,  more  beautiful  or  em« 
phatic.  Not  to  refer  effects  to  their  real  causes  is  ia 
logic  an  imperfection,  but  in  poetry  often  a  beauty ;  the 
appeal  in  the  one  case  b  to  reason,  in  the  other  to.  the 
passions.  When  sorrow  has  had  sufficient  vent,  there  is 
lebure  to  expatiate  on  the  accomplishments  of  the  dead. 
In  the  first  place  they  are  celebrated  for  their  virtue  and 
heroic  actions ;  next  for  their  piety  and  mutual  affection ; 
and  lasdy  for  their  agility  and  strength.  Saul  is  hon- 
oured with  a  particular  panegyric,  because  he  had  en- 
riched his  people,  and  contributed  to  the  general  felicit)* 
and  splendour  of  the  state.  This  passage,  by  the  way, 
is  most  exquisite  composition  :  the  women  of  Israel  are 
most  happily  introduced,  and  the  subject  of  the  enco- 
mium is  admirably  adapted  to  the  female  characters.^^ 

13  CiGSBo.    He  Fato.    See  Eusifidss,  Medea,  ver.  1. 

IS  Scolion  apud  ATaniAuiE»  lib.  xt.    See  EusTATorvB  ad  Iliad  A.  171, 
Edit  Aux.  PoLin  Flarentue,  and  Hbbodot.  Terpsichore,  63,  64. 

ii  *<  Ye  dangfaten  of  larael,  weep  over  Saul,"  fcc. 
The  following  passage  bears  po  remote  resemblance  to  thig  of  the  aacitd 


S«l  THK  ELEGIAC  TOETBY  Uktr.  tt. 

lonafthan  ift  at  bst  oetebrated  in  a  dicAid  euiogiuiiH 
which  is  beanttfalty  paliietfc,  is  animated  with  all  the 
fervour^  and  iweeOened  widi  aU  tiie  tenderness  of  friend- 
ship. 

I  should  have  made  some  paiticdlar  observations  on 
the  intercalary  period  or  epode  inserted  in  the  Psidin 
which  was  lately  uhder  our  consideration,  but  that  I  was 
aware  an  opportunity  would  again  present  itself  during 
the  examination  of  this  poem.  This  recurrence  of  the 
same  idea  is  perfectly  congenial  to  the  nature  of  elegy ; 
since  grief  is  fond  of  dwelling  upon  the  particular  ob« 
jects  of  the  passion,  and  frequently  repeating  them. 
There  is  something  singular,  however,  in  the  intercalary 
period  which  occurs  in  this  poem,  for  it  dties  not  rega- 
larly  assume  the  same  form  of  words,  as  is  the  case  in 
getfeiat,  but  ^appears  with  a  little  variation.  It  is  three 
times  intrt)duced,  beautifully  diversified  in  the  t>rder  and 
diction :  it  forms  part  of  the  exordium,  as  w<A  as  tdf  the 
conclusion,  and  is  once  Inserted  in  the  bodyof  thepoenu 

Another  observation,  though  it  merit  no  higher  tide 

irriter,  and  I  think  comes  nearer  it  in  sublimity  than  any  thing*  1  have  oh* 
iKrved  in  modem  poeti^  : 

•*  Ye,  who  ere  while  for  Cook's  illustrious  brow 
**  t>latk'd*the  ^reen  laurel,  and  the  oaken  1)ough ; 
*'  Vhiog  lAit  gay  garlanda  en  tlie  trQ|)lilad  ^oars,  . 
*  "  And  pour'd  bis  fame  along  a  thousand  sbftrea» 

*'  Strike  the  slow  death-bell ! — weave  the  sacred  v^rse, 
**  And  «ttew  the  cypress  o'er  his  honoofd  hearse.'* 

Miss  SsWASn's  £U^  n  CgpkOm  OMr. 

A -mm  ear  wiH  di^oem  something  peeoliar  in  the  structure  of  the  third  and 
/fih  lines  of  this  quotation.  Each  of  these  lines,  in  fact»  b^nrwith  a  tro- 
chaic, followed  by  spondees,  which,  from  its  abruptness  and  energy,  is  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  the  expression  of  sorrow : 

Hung  tlie  gay  garlands,  &c. 

Strike  tlie  slow  deiith-bcU,  &c. 
In  this  sliort  elegy  specimens  may  be  found  of  almost  every  poetical  beau- 
ty and  excellenee.    T. 


l.MT-8%  OF  TfUC  H£;BSEW9.  339 

than  a  conjecture,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  submit  to  your 
consideration.  There  appears  to  be  sometbiogsis^ular 
in  the  versification  of  this  eLegy,  and  a  very  free  4ise  of 
different  naietfes.  It  neither  consists  altogether  of  the 
long  verses,  nor  yet  of  the  short  ones  (which  are  the 
most  usual  in  die  poetry  of  the  Hebrews ;)  but  rather 
of  a  very  artful  and  happy  mixture  of  both,  so  that  the' 
concise  and  pointed  parallelism  serves  to  correct  the  lan- 
guor and  diffuseness  of  the  elegiac  verse :  and  this  form 
of  versification  takes  place  also  in  some  of  the  Psalms. 
Certainly  there  is  a  great  appearance  of  art  and  design  in 
this  nice  and  poetical  conformation  of  the  periods :  and 
that  no  grace  or  elegance  should  be  wanting  to  this  po- 
em, it  is  no  less  renu^rkable  for  the  general  beauty, 
splendour,  andjperspiouky  of  the  style. 

To  do  complete  justice  to  the  economy  of  this  excel- 
lent production,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  exhibit  it 
in  an  entire  state.  'Not  to  tire  you  therefore  with  a  rep- 
etition of  the  verbsA  translation,  I  have  endeavoured  to 
express  the  general  sentiipents  and  imagery  in  elegiac 
numbers. 

Thy  glory,  Iflrael,  dcoop»  its  laitg^id  head, 

On  Gilboa's  height»  thy  ming  bc^vvty  diesis 
In  sordid  pUesihere  sleep  th'  iilufttrip«s  dead. 

The  mighty  victor  falFn  and  vanquish'd  lies. 

Yet  dumb  be  Grief— Hush'd  be  her  clam*rou«  voice  1 

Tell  not  in  Oath  the  tidings  of  our  shame  i 
Lest  proud  Philistia  in  our  woes  rejoice. 

And  rude  barbarians  blast  fair  Israel's  fame. 

No  more,  O  Gilboa !  heavens  reviving  dew 

With  rising  verdure  crown  thy  fated  head  ! 
No  victim's  blood  thine  altars  dire  imbrue  ! 

For  there  the  blood  of  heaven's  elect  was  shed. 

The  sword  of  Saul  ne'er  spent  its  force  in  air ; 
The  shaft  of  Jonathan  brought  low  the  brave  ; 


334  THE  ELEGIAC  POETRY,  «cc.         Lbct.  83. 

In  life  united  equal  hxts  they  sharei 

In  death  united  share  one  common  grave. 

Swift  as  the  eagle  cleaves  the  aerial  way, 
Through  hosu  of  foes  they  bent  their  rapid  course ; 

Strong  as  the  lion  darts  upon  his  prey, 
They  crush'd  the  naUons  with  resistless  force. 

Daughters  of  Judah,  mourn  the  fatal  day, 

In  sable  grief  attend  your  monarch's  urn  ; 
To  solemn  notes  attune  the  pensive  lay. 

And  weep  those  joys  that  never  shall  return : 

With  various  wealth  he  made  your  tents  o'erflow. 
In  princely  pride  your  charms  profusely  dress'd ; 

Bade  the  rich  robe  with  ardent  purple  glow, 
And  sparkling  gems  adorn  the  tissued  vest 

On  Gilboa's  heights  the  mighty  vanquished  lies» 
The  son  of  Saul,  the  generous  and  the  just  i 

Let  streaming  sorrows  ever  fill  these  eyes, 
Let  sacred  tears  bedew  a  brother's  dust ! 

Thy  firm  regard  revered  thy  David's  name, 
And  kindest  thoughts  in  kindest  acts  expressed ; 

Not  brighter  glows  the  pure  and  generous  flame. 
That  lives  within  the  tender  virgin's  breast 

But  vain  the  tear,  and  vain  the  bursting  sigh. 
Though  Sion's  echoes  with  our  griefii  resound » 

The  mighty  victors  fall'n  and  vanquish'd  lie, 
And  war's  refulgent  weapons  strew  the  ground* 


OP  DIDACTIC  POETRT, 

LECTURE  XXIV. 

OP  THS  PROVERBS»  OR  DIDACTIC  POETRY  OF  THE  HEBREW». 

The  «ncient  mode  of  instructing  by  Panbles  or  Prorerb»— The  Prorerbt 
of  Solomon :  thnt  work  consists  of  two  pirts ;  the  first,  which  extends 
to  the  ninth  chapter  inclosiTe,  truly  poetical,  and  most  elegant  in  its 
kind :  the  remainder  of  the  book  consists  of  detached  niazim8.^The 
principal  charactezistics  of  a  Parable  or  Proverb ;  brevity  (which  natur- 
ally involves  in  it  some  deg^ree  of  obscurity)  and  elegance— Eccleaiastes : 
the  argument,  disposition,  and  style  of  that  work— All  the  alphabetical 
Psalms  of  this  kind,  as  well  as  some  others— The  Wisdom  of  the  son  of 
Sirach,  written  originally  in  Hebrew,  in  imitation  of  the  Proverbs  of  Sol- 

•  omon— The  fidelity  of  the  Greek  translator ;  and  the  great  elegance  of 
the  work  in  general— The  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  written  originally  in  Greek, 
and  in  imitation  of  the  Proverbs ;  the  style  and  economy  of  that  book— 
A  new  translation  of  the  sxivth  chapter  of  Ecclesiasticus. 

In  those  periods  of  remote  antiquity,  which  may  with 
the  utmost  propriety  be  styled  the  infancy  of  societies 
and  nations,  the  usual,  if  not  the  only,  n)ode  of  instruc* 
tion  was  by  detached  aphorisms  or  proverbs.  Human 
wisdom  was  then  indeed  in  a  rude  and  unfinished  state ; 
it  was  not  digested,  methodized,  or  reduced  to  order 
and  aonnexion.  Those,  who,  by  genius  and  reflexion, 
exercised  in  the  school  of  experience,  had  accumulated 
a  stock  of  knowledge,  were  desirous  of  reducing  it  into 
the  most  compendious  form,  and  comprized  in  a  few* 
maxims  those  observations  which  they  apprehended 
most  essential  to  human  happiness.  This  mode  of  in- 
struction was,  in  truth,  more  likely  than  any  other  to 
prove  efficacious  with  men  in  a  rude  stage  of  society ; 


3S6  DIDACTIC  POETRY.  Lect.  24. 

for  it  professed  not  to  dispute,  but  to  command ;  not  to 
persuade,  but  to  compel ;  it  conducted  them  not  by  a 
circuit  of  argument,  but  led  immediately  to  the  appro- 
bation and  practice  of  integrity  and  virtue.  That  it 
might  not,  however,  be  altogether  destitute  of  allure- 
ment, and  lest  it  should  disgust  by  an  appearance  of 
roughness  and  severity,  some  degree  of  ornament  be- 
came necessary  ;  and  the  instructers  of  mankind  added 
to  their  precepts  the  graces  of  barmooy,  and  iUuminated 
them  with  metaphors,  comparisons,  allusions,  and  the 
other  embellishments  of  style.  This  manner»  which 
with  other  nations  prevailed  only  during  the  first  peri- 
ods of  civilization,  with  the  Hebrews  continued  to  be  a. 
favourite  style  to  the  latest  ages  of  their  literature.  It 
obtained  among  them  the  appellation  of  Mathalim  (or 
Parables)  as  well  because  it  consisted  in  a  great  measure 
of  parables  strictly  so  called }  as  because  it  possessed 
uncommon  force  and  authority  over  the  minds  of  the 
auditors. 

Of  this  didactic  poetry  there  are  still  extant  many 
specimens  in  the  writings  of  the  Hebrews ;  and  among 
these  the  first  rank  must  be  assigned  to  the  Proverbs  of 
Solomon.  This  work  consists  of  two  parts.  The  firsts 
serving  as  a  proem  or  exordium,  includes  the  nine  firs^ 
chapters ;  and  is  varied,  elegant^  sublime,  and  truly  pa» 
etical ;  the  order  of  the  subject  is  in  general  excellently 
preserved,  and  the  parts  are  very  aptly  connected  among 
themselves.  It  is  embellished  with  many  beautiful  de- 
scriptions and  personifications ;  the  diction  is  polished, 
and  abounds  wit]^  all  the  ornaments  of  poetry ;  inso- 
much, tliat  it  scarcely  yields  in  elegance  and  splendour 
to  any  of  the  sacred  writings.  The  other  part,  which 
extends  from  the  beginning  of  the  tenth  cliapter  to  the 
end  of  the  book,  consists  almost  entirely  of  detached 


Lbct.  S4.  DIDACTIC  POETRY.  SS7 

pamUes  or  maxims,  which  have  but  little  in  them  of 
the  sublime  or  poetical,  except  a  certain  energetic  and 
concise  turn  of  expression.  Since  the  didactic  poetry, 
of  the  Hebrews  assumes  in  general  this  unconnected 
and  sententious  form,  and  since  this  style  intrudes  itself 
U)to  almost  all  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  and  occura 
frequcndy  in  poems  of  a  character  very  different  from 
the  didactic ;  I  shall  treat  principally  of  this  latter  part 
of  the  book  of  Proverbs,  and  endeavour  more  minutely 
to  investigate  the  precise  nature  of  a  parable  or  proverb. 
Solomon  himself,  in  one  of  his  proverbs,  has  explain* 
ed  the  principal  excellencies  of  this  form  of  composi» 
tion ;  exhibiting  at  once  a  complete  definition  of  a  par* 
able  or  proverb,  and  a  very  happy  specimen  of  what  he 
describes : 

M  Apples  of  gold  in  a  net-work  of  silver 
*<  Is  a  word  seasonably  spoken/*^ 

Thus  he  insinuates,  that  grave  and  profound  sentiments 
are  to  be  set  off  by  a  smooth  and  well-turned  phraseolo- 
gy,  as  the  appearance  of  the  most  beautiful  and  exqui* 
sitely-coloured  fruit,  or  the  imitation  of  it  perhaps  in 
the  most  precious  materials,  is  improved  by  the  circum- 
stance of  shining,  as  through  a  veil,  through  the  reticu- 
lations of  a  silver  vessel  exquisitely,  carved.  Nay,  he 
ftirther  intimates,  that  it  is  not  only  a  neat  turn  and  pol* 
ished  diction  which  must  recommend  them,  but  that 
truth  itself  acquires  additional  beauty,  when  partially 
discovered  through  the  veil  of  elegant  fiction  and  im- 
agery. 

To  consider  Hft  subject  in  a  still  more  particular 
point  of  view,  let  brevity  be  admitted  as  the  prime  ex^* 
cellence  of  a  proverb.*    This  is,  indeed,  a  necessary 

3  PbOT.  XXV.  11. 

•  s  «<  The  brevity  of  this  kind  of  cotDposition,  and  the  condensing^  of  moclk 
ihouglit  into  a  boirII  compssa^  rendera  it  more  aententioUa^  more  aage  and 

43 


33ff  DIDACTIC  POETRT.  Lxer.  9». 

condition,  without  which  it  can  neither  retain  the  name 
nor  the  nature.  -  For  if  the  sentiment  be  diffusely  ex- 
pressed, if  even  when  it  contains  a  double  image,  it  ex- 
ceed ten  or  at  most  twelve  words,  it  is  no  longer  a  prov- 
erb but  an  harangue.  For  the  discriminating  senti- 
ment must  force  itself  on  the  mind  by  a  single  effort, 
and  not  by  a  tedious  process ;  the  language  must  be 
strong  and  condensed,  rather  omitting  some  circum- 
stances that  appear  necessary,  than  admitting  any  thin^ 
superfluous.  Horace  himself  insists  upon  this  as  one 
of  the  express  rules  of  didactic  poetry,  and  he  has  as- 
signed the  reason  on  which  k  is  founded  : 

^  Short  be  the  precept»  which  with  ease  is  gaioM 
«  By  docile  minch,  and  faithfully  retain'd/'^ 

Solomon  expresses  the  same  sentiment  in  hb  own  (that 
is  the  parabolic)  manner : 

M  The  words  of  the  wise  are  like  goads, 
»  And  like  nails  that  are  firmly  fixed.''^ 

expressire.  As  m  a  smtll  seed  the  whole  power  of  ▼egetation,  which  is 
to  produce  a  tree,  is  contained.  And  If  any  writer  should  amplify  the 
sentence»  it  would  be  no  longer  a  proverb,  but  a  declamation.**  Demxt. 
Ph Ai..  nifi  SfftmnH*'  Sect.  ix. 

3  Francis's  Horace,  Art  of  Poetry,  rer.  455. 

4  R0CU8.  xii.  U.  This  I  think  is  one  of  the  ^e wftMis  proterbt  (oe  those 
which  *'  contain  a  double  imag^**  as  mentiened  before)  and  re^iives  a  dif^ 
ferent  mode  of  interpreUtion  for  the  two  images,  as  haring  nothing  coa* 
lescent  in  their  natures.— 4t  is  the  property  of  a  proverb  to  prick  sharpy, 
and  Md/rm^.  The  first  idea  is  included  in  the  image  of  a  goad— the 
latter  in  the  nail  deepfif^  and  theaefore  ^frsOit  dnrea.    S.  Hw 

In  Palestine,  it  formerly  made  an  essential  part  of  the  buUdinf^  of  a 
house,  to  furnish  the  inside  of  the  several  apartments  with  sets  of  spikes» 
aaUsy  or  large  pegs,  upon  which  to  dispose  of,  and  hang  up,  the  several 
moveables  in  common  use,  and  proper  to  the  apartment.  These  spikei 
they  worked  into  the  walls  at  the  first  erection  of  them ;  the  walls  being 
of  such  materials,  that  they  could  not  bear  their  being  driven  in  afterwards^ 
and  they  were  contrived  so  as  to  strengthen  the  Vfa\h  by  binding  the  parts 
together,  as  well  as  to  serve  for  convenieace.  See  Bishop  LowTa's  /mmA». 
cK.  zxii.  33,  n«fe«. 


laeT. «;  mOACnC  POETRY.  S9i 

That  is,  they  instantaneously  stimulate  or  aflfect  the 
mind ;  they  penetrate  deeply,  and  are  firmly  retained.  ' 
Some  degree  of  obscurity  is  generally  an  attendant 
upon  excessive  brevity ;  and  the  parabolic  style  is  S9 
far  from  being  abhorrent  of  thb  quality,  that  it  seems 
frequently  to  aflS^ct  it,  and  to  regard  it  as  a  perfectioh* 
This  obscurity  b  not  indeed  altogether  without  its  uses: 
it  whets  the  understanding,  excites  an  appetite  for 
knowledge,  keeps  alive  the  attention,  and  exercises  the 
genius  by  the  labour  of  the  investigation.  The  human 
mind,  moreover,  is  ambitious  of  having  a  ^are  in'  the 
discovery  of  truth ;  excessive  indolence  or  dulness  only 
requires  a  very  open  and  minute  display,  or  prefers  a 
passive  inermess  to  the  exercise  and  the  praise  of  per- 
^Hcacity  and  discernment ;  and  thM  knowledge  is  ever 
most  delightful,  which  we  have  ccNUpassed  by  oAtewi^ 
efforts.'  Other  causes,  however,  independent  of  the 
brevity  and  conciseness  of  the  language,  have,  in  many 
cases,  contributed  to  the  obscurity  of  the  parabolic 
style.*  In  the  first  place,  some  degree  of  dbscurity 
necessarily  attends  those  passages  in  which  different 
objects  are  applied  in  succession  to  the  illustration  of 

*  So  grettt  a  portion  of  temu  hafipincMi  consitti  ia  actvrity  tsui^eapl^j- 
nent»  Uiat  withoat  at  all  resorting  to  the  love  of  &me,  we  need  not  wondaf 
aiat  some  degne  of  difficulty  interests  and  engages  the  mind»  and  merely 
by  excttiqg  tbe  ftcyoltict  to  actkm  affords  positive  picasoie.    T. 
^  «  Pater  ipse  colendi 

**  Haud  &cilem  esse  viam  yoluit*  primusque  per  artem 

**  M OTit  agrosy  curu  acuetu  morfo/fa  ^arda  : 

*'  Kec  torpere  gravi  passus  sua  regna  vetemo.** 

^  Wbetting  with  many  a  care  the  ham»  heart'*  S.  H. 
. '«  The  brtvitg  of  the  ancient  prorerbs  may,  in  a  great  measuu^  lie  ap» 
counted  for,  from  the  want  of  alphabetical  writing,  and  their  being  intend- 
ed  to  be  committed  to  memory.  Much  of  their  obtcurity  may  be  attributed 
to  our  ignorance  of  many  local  circumstances  to  which  th^  alMe».  «id 
which  actually  served  to  assist  the  mei^ories  qf  those  for  whom  they  wtre 
designed.    T, 


^ch  ot^r,  without  my  exfiress  mi^^ks  of  compviaan) 

of  this  we  have  had  an  example  in  Uie  pamUe  just  now 

9)i(Med,  w4  of  this  there  are  many  other  examples  in 

tjie  sacred  writings.    I  wiU,  nevertheless^  select  one  or 

two»  which  are  deservuig  of  eur  itfiention  for  their  pe* 

culler  jux^priety  and  dc^^ce ; 

**  Clwda  and  vind  friihaut  rattt 

<«  Is  a  man  whp  glprie«  in  a  falladoiia  gift.''^ 

The  following  is  in  a  diflferent  form : 

«  Gold»  and  abundance  of  ruUM» 

<<  And  precious  ornaments»  are  the  lips  of  knowledge.'^ 

Again,  obscurity  is  almost  inevitablct  when  the  aubfccl 
Itiself»  to  which  the  imt^iy  appf^rtams  and  aUud(»«  in 
removed  wt  of  sightf  and  the  sentiment  assomes  the 
form  Qf  allKgory,  itoioe  MpressM  a  v«7  eommflA 
preoefft(in|4siinlangiisge:   . 

^  L^ara  the  strong  «en^e  of  pleasure  to  control ; 
.  <<  With  virtuous  pride  its  blandishments  disdain  s 
'<<  I^urtfnl  is  pleasure^  when  'tis  bought  with  pain."* 

But  with  how  much  more  elegance  does  Solomon  de- 
liver the  same  precept  in  a  figurativp  manner,  and  u%> 
der  the  veil  of  allegory  ! 

<«  Hast  thou  found  honey  ?  Eat  no  more  than  maj  suffice  thee : 
.«<  iiesi  thou  be  satiated,  and  nauseate  it.**^ 

Some  obscurity  also  attends  any  comparison  which  isi 
of  extensive  application :  of  this  the  following  seeais  a 
pertinent  example : 

«<  As  in  water  face  (answers)  to  {ace* 
u  So  doth  the  heart  of  man  to  man/'^^ 

This  is  certainly  very  difficult  to  apply  or  to  define, 
«nee  it  may  refer  in  many  difTerait  views  to  the  facul- 
^es,  genius,  affections^  will,  attachments,  mannors,  vir<> 

7  P»©Y.  XXY.  14.  •  P««T.  ML  15. 

9  Frmcit^s  Hortoe»  B.  I.  Ep.  ii.  yer.  78. 

»  PjwT.  jar.  lei  u  Pmov.  xxvii.  If. 


Li€V.M;  IHDACnC  POETIlY.  941 

tues^  and  vices  df  men,  among  which  diere  genefalfy 
mibslsts  a  certain  agreement  or  similarity  from  imita« 
tion,  and  from  habits  which  are  insensibly  caught  in 
social  intercourse.  Lastly,  not  to  dweU  too  long  upo« 
this  subject,  some  obscurity  succeeds,  when  the  princi- 
pal,  or  perhaps  the  whole  force  of  a  proverb  or  parable, 
does  not  lie  in  the  direct  loid  literal  sense,  but  in  some- 
thing not  immediately  expressed,  which  is  however 
concomitant  with  it : 

^  The  bearing  ear,  and  the  seeing  eye, 

^  JxHOTAB  made  them  both/'** 

To  dweU  ixpoa  the  external  and  literal  sense  of  this 
proverb,  will  only  bewilder  the  reader  in  the  dubious 
turn  of  the  expression ;  but  how  sublime,  how  profita- 
ble, is  the  sentiment,  when  it  comes  from'  the  pen  of 
the  Psalmist,  embellished  with  his  usual  perspicuity 
|U)d  animation? 

<<  He  who  planted  the  ear,  shall  he  not  hear  ? 
<|  He  who  formed  the  eye,  shall  he  not  see  V*^ 

The  last  quality  that  I  shall  mention  as  essential  to  a 
parable  or  proverb,  is  elegance ;  which  is  not  inconsistv 
^nt  with  brevity,  or  indeed  with  some  degree  of  obscu? 
rity,  I  speak  of  elegance  as  it  respe(its  the  septiment, 
the  imagery,  and  the  diction,  and  of  its.  union  with  al( 
these  we  have  already  had  sufficient  proof  in  all  the  par- 
ables which  have  been  «quoted  in  the  course  of  this  Lecr 
ture.  It  may  however  be  proper  to  remark  in  thi^ 
place,  that  ^ven  tho.se  proverbs,  which  are  the  plainest^^ 
inoS|t  obvious,  and  simple,  which  contain  nothing  re- 
markable either  in  sentiment  or  style,  are  not  to  be  es- 
teemed wid^out  their  peculiar  elegance,  if  they  possess^ 
enly  brevity,  and  that  neat,  compact  form,  and  round- 
ness of  period»  which  alone  are  sufficient  to  constitute  ^ 

V.  Pa»T.  aoc.  13.  V  Psaui  xcir.  9. 


Sit  DIDACTIC  POETRY.  Lkct-  M. 

parable.    Such  is  the  maxim,  quoted  by  David  in  the 

sacred  history,  as  an  ancient  proverb ; 

«  Wickedness  will  proceed  from  the  wicked/*^^ 

Such  is  that  of  Solomon, 

«(  Hate  stirreth  up  strifes ; 

^  But  love  covereth  all  transgresuons."^' 

And  many  others  which  might  easily  be  produced  from 
the  same  author. 

There  is  another  didactic  work  of  Solomon,  entided 
Kohelet,  (Ecclesiastes)  or  the  Preacher ;  or  rathet-  per- 
haps  Wisdom  the  Preacher,  the  general  tenor  and  style 
of  which  is  very  different  from  the  book  of  Proverbs, 
though  there  are  many  detached  sentiments  and  prov- 
erbs interspersed.  For  the  whole  work  is  uniform,  and 
confined  to  one  subject,  namely,  the  vanity  of  the  world 
exemplified  by  the  experience  of  Solomon,  who  is  in- 
troduced in  the  character  of  a  person  investigating  a 
very  difficult  question,  examining  the  arguments  on  ei- 
ther side,  and  at  length  disengaging  himself  from  an 
anxious  and  doubtful  disputation.  It  would  be  very 
difficult  to  distinguish  the  parts  and  arrangement  of  this, 
production ;  the  order  of  the  subject  and  the  connexion 
of  the  arguments  are  involved  in  so  much  obscurityt 
that  scarcely  any  two  commentators  have  agreed  con- 
cerning the  plan  of  the  wotlc,  and  the  accurate  division 
of  it  into  parts  or  sections.  The  truth  is,  the  laws  of 
methodical  composition  and  arrangement  were  neither 
known  by  the  Hebrews,  nor  regarded  in  their  didactic 
writings.  They  uniformly  retained  the  dd  sententious 
manner,  nor  did^they  submit  to  method,  even  where  Ae 
occasion  appeared  to  demand  it.  The  style  of  this  woifc 
is,  however,  singular ;  the  language  is  generally  low,  I 
might  almost  call  it  mean  or  vulgar ;  it  is  frequently 

M  1  Sax.  UiT.  U.  if  Ptov.  x.  ^. 


lacT.  84.  DIDACTIC  POETSY.  SM 

loose,  QQCOnnected,  approaching  to  the  incorrectnesa  oC 
conversation;  and  possesses  very  little  of  the  poetical 
character»  even  in  the  composition  and  structure  of  the 
periods  :  which  peculiarity  may  possibly  be  accounted 
for  from  the  nature  of  the  subject.  Contrary  to  the 
opinion  of  the  Rabbiest  Ecclesiastes  has  been  classed 
among  the  poetical  books ;  though  if  their  authority  and 
opinions  were  of  any  weight  or  importance,  they  mighty 
perhaps,  on  this  occasion,  deserve  some  attention.*^ 

Some  of  the  Psalms  also  belong  properly  to  this  class; 
the  alphabetical,  for  instance,  with  some  others.  The 
sdphabetical  or  acrostic  form  of  composition  has  been 
more  than  once  alluded  to.  in  the  course  of  these  lectures. 
The  chief  commendation  of  these  poems  is,  that  they 
are  excellently  accommodated  to  ordinary  use ;  that  the 
sentiments  are  serious,  devout,  and  practical :  the  lan- 
guage chaste  and  perspicuous ;  the  composition  neat, 
and  regularly  adapted  to  the  sententious  ibrm. 

There  are  extant,  besides  these,  two  other  considera» 
ble  works  of  the  didactic  kind,  which  the  Hebrew  poet- 
ry may  legally  claim,  though  they  are  only  extant  ia 
Greek  prose.  I  mean  The  Wisdom  of  the  Son  of  Si- 
rach,  and  that  which  is  entitled  The  Wisdom  of  Solo* 
mon. 

The  work  of  the  Son  of  Sirach,  translated  from  the 
Hebrew  into  Greek,  by  one  of  the  descendants  of  the 
author,  is  altogether  of  the  same  kind  with  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon ;  insomuch,  that  it  originally  bore  the  same 
title  fMashalimJ  as  we  learn  from  Jerome,  who  directly 
asserts,  that  he  had  seen  the  book  in  Hebrew  -^^  and  t 

M  It  is  Uitt  opioum  of  a  very  ingpentoas  viiter,  in  %  learned  work,  whicU 
he  has  lately  produced»  that  the  greater  part  of  this  book  was  written  ill 
prose,  bat  that  it  contains  many  scraps  of  poetry,  introduced  as  occusioa 
serred :  and  ip  this  opinion  I  am  inclined  to  assent  See  A.  V.  Ussyoxu]^ 
Tntf.  PhiL  ^  Crii.  in  Eecle*.  lib.  iL  cap.  1*       •liclAar'f  AVftw 

^  Frxf.  in  Libros  SalomoniSr 


344  DIDACTIC  POETRY.  Lbct.94. 

see  no  neason  why  his  assertion  should  not  relate  to  the 
original  Hebrew  copy,  rather  than  to  any  Syriac  version* 
However  this  may  be,  it  is  clear  even  from  the  Greek 
tanslation,  which  we  have,  that  the  book  in  every  re- 
sptct  resembles  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  as  nearly  as 
an  imitation  can  resemble  an  original.  There  is  a  great 
similarity  in  the  matter,  the  sentiments,  and  the  diction ; 
the  complexion  of  the  style,  and  the  construcUon  of  the 
periods,  are  quite  the  same ;  so  that  I  cannot  entertain  a 
doubt,  that  the  author  actually  adopted  the  same  mode 
of  versification,  whatever  it  was,  if  we  can  admit  that 
any  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  metres  was  extmt  at  the 
time  when  he  is  supposed  to  have  written.  For  all  thai 
we  are  able  to  conjecture  on  this  head  we  are  indebted 
to  the  great  fidelity  of  the  translator,  which  is  abundantly 
manifested  in  every  part  of  the  work.  He  seems  indeed 
not  at  all  to  have  affected  the  elegancies  of  the  Greek 
language,  but  to  have  performed  his  duty  with  the  most 
religious  regard  to  the  Hebrew  idiom ;  he  not  only  ex» 
hibits  faithfully  the  sentiments,  but  seems  even  to  have 
numbered  the  words,  and  exactly  to  have  preserved  their 
order ;  so  that,  were  it  literally  and  accurately  to  be  re- 
translated, I  have  ver}^  little  doubt  that,  for  the  most  part, 
the  original  diction  would  be  recovered.  If  any  person 
will  make  the  experiment  on  a  small  scale,  he  will  readily 
discern  the  perfect  coincidence  of  this  composition  with 
the  most  ancient  specimens  of  the  didactic  poetry  of  the 
Hebrews ;  so  exact  indeed  is  the  agreement  both  in  form 
and  character,  that  the  reader  might,  witliout  much  diffi- 
culty,  be  persuaded,  that  he  was  perusing  the  composi* 
tions  of  another  Solomon.  This  author  is  however  an 
imitator  chiefly  of  the  former  part  of  the  book  of  Prov- 
erbs :  for  there  is  more  connection  and  order  in  the  sen- 
timents ;  the  style  is  also  more  highly  cok>ured9  and  <- 


ikcT.  M.  triDACtiC  P6«tRt.  S45 

6dttnd$  more  in  imagery  and  figures  than  the  didactic 
poetry  of  the  Hebrews  in  general  requires.  As  an  in- 
stance,  I  need  onty  mention  that  adtnirabte  personiftcaf* 
tioh  of  Wisdom  exhibited  by  him,  in  which  he  has  so 
happily  adopted  the  manner  of  his  great  predeccsson* 

The  Wisdom  of  Solomon  \9  also  composed  ih  imita- 
tion of  that  prince  of  didactic  writers,  but  with  a  degree 
of  success  very  unequal  indeed  to  that  of  the  Son  of  Si* 
rach.    It  is  not,  like  the  book  which  bears  his  name,  a 
translation  from  the  Hebrew,  but  is  evidently  the  per- 
formance of  some  Hellenistic  Jew,  and  originally  written  in 
Greek»    The  style  is  very  unequal ;  it  is  often  pompous 
and  turg^,  as  well  as  tedious  and  diffuse,  and  abounds 
in  epithets,  directly  contrary  to  the  practice  of  the  He- 
brews ;  it  b  however  sometimes  temperate,  poetical  and 
sublime.     The  construction  is  occasionally  sententious, 
and  tolerably  accurate  in  that  respect,  so  as  to  discover 
very  plainly  that  the  author  had  the  old  Hebrew  poetry 
for  Ins  model,  though  he  fell  far  short  of  its  beauty  and 
sublimity.    The  economy  of  tlie  woiic  is  still  more  faul- 
ty ;  he  continues  the  prayers  of  Solomon  from  the  ninth 
chapter  to  the  very  end  of  the  book  ;    and  they  conse- 
quently take  up  more  than  one  half  of  the  whole.    But 
beside  the  tediousness  of  such  an  harangue,  he  indulges 
in  too  great  a  subtilty  of  disquisition  upon  abstruse  sub- 
jects, and  mingles  many  things  very  foreign  to  the  na- 
ture of  an  address  to  the  Deity :  and  after  all,  the  sub- 
ject itself  b  brought  to  no  perfect  conclusion.     On  these 
accounts  I  agree  with  those  critics,  who  suppose  thb 
book  to  be  a  much  more  modem  production  than  that  of 
the  Son  of  Sirach,  and  to  have  been  composed  in  a  less 
enlightened  age. 

That  I  may  not  dbmiss  the  subject  without  exhibit- 

^  EccLvs.  xxir. 

44 


J46  DIDACTIC  POETRT.  LacT.Mi 

ing  a  specimen  of  some  complete  poem  of  the  kind,  suck 
as  I  have  hitherto  given,  I  shall  add  to  thb  lecture  a 
translation  of  a  part  of  Ecclesiasticus,  namely,  that  ele- 
gant personification  of  Wisdom  I  lately  mentioned ;  io 
which  I  have  endeavoured  as  much  as  possible  to  pre« 
serve,  or  rather  restore,  the  form  and  character  of  die 
original  Hebrew*" 

TBS   TWBNTt-yoUETU   CHAPTZR   Ot  XCCLXSIASTICVS. 

^  Wisdom  shall  praise  her  own  spirit, 

<<  And  shall  gloty  in  the  midst  of  her  people  » 

to  Our  author's  observations  on  the  naturie  and  ori|^in  of  didactic  poetiy 
are  most  strikingly  just :  and  on  inspecting  llie  early  didactic  productions 
of  the  Greeks,  the  old  sententious  form  mt^  be  easily  discovered :  indeed, 
that  pointed  and  antithetic  manner  seems  (probably  by  the  force  of  habit 
and  imitation}  to  have  pervaded  this  kind  of  pbetry,  both  ancient  and  mod- 
em. To  our  anthoi^»  excellent  remarks  on  the  subject»  I  will  add,  that  the 
science  of  morals  appears  to  be  the  only  branch  of  discipline  which  can  be 
successfolly  treated  of  m  verse.  The  study  of  abstract  science  demands  a 
disposition  of  mind  very  different  from  that  which  enjoys  the  playfulneM 
of  foncy.  In  such  didactic  poetry,  therefore,  as  professes  to  treat  of  ai^ 
subject  but  morals,  the  mind  is  either  too  much  warmed  by  the  language, 
imagery,  and  episodes,  to  think  of  the  main  drift  of  the  author,  and  then  he 
is  not  understood,  as,  I,  believt  is  gmerally  fonnd  to  be  tht  case  in  reading 
Dr.  ▲aivsiBs's  PUiuuru  ^fOie  haagimatmn  /  or  else  the  attention  »  fixed 
upon  the  matter,  and  then  the  poetical  style  is  an  unnecessary  and  mere- 
tricious' ornament,  which  only  perplexes  the  mind,  by  diverting  it  from  its 
object  The  raason  why  ethics  may  be  safely  Uught  in  verse,  seems  to  be, 
because  that  science  is  conversant  chiefly  with  the  human  passions,  and  the 
delineation  of  them  i  and  poetry  being  no  other  than  the  language  of  pas- 
sion, win,  on  such  a  subject,  rather  Uhistrate  than  confuse.  I  may  add 
too^  that  ethics  is  a  science  with  which  mankind  are  most  generally  ae* 
quainted,  and  therefore  can  most  easily  comprahend.  I  am  aware,  that  on 
this  argument  the  success  and  popularity  of  some  didactic  poems  will  be 
aliedged  against  me,  and  particularly  that  of  the  Gcorgics,  Lucretius,  and 
Horace's  Bpistle  to  the  Pisos  ;  but  I  must  remark,  that  these  very  poems 
owe  their  whole  success  to  the  episodes  and  the  moral  sentiments  with 
which  they  abound :  and  I  appeal  to  any  candid  reader,  whether,  after  all, 
he  has  not  been  at  some  times  fstigued  with  the  didactic  parts  of  even 
these  most  elegant  productions.  I  do  not  indeed  approve  of  long  didactic 
poems,  even  upon  moral  subjects  ;  for,  unless  they  tie  enlivened  by  inter- 
esting episodes  and  descriptions,  they  can  scarcely  &il  to  i^pear  tedious 
and  dry.    T. 


Lxer.M.  DIDACTIC  POETRY.  S4t 

^  In  the  coQgregtdoD  of  the  Most  High  shall  she  open  her  numtbt 

^  And  in  the  presence  of  his  power  shall  she  glory. 

^  I  proceeded  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Most  High ; 

^  And  as  a  mist  I  covered  the  earth. 

^  I  dwelt  above  on  high, 

«  And  my  throne  was  in  the  pillar  of  a  cloud. 

^  I  compassed  the  circuit  of  the  heavens  alonoi 

**  And  walked  in  the  depth  of  the  abyss. 

^  In  the  waves  of  the  sea*  and  in  all  the  earth, 

<<  And  in  every  people,  and  every  nation  I  obtained  a  possesttOiM 

«  With  all  these  I  sought  rest, 

^  And  in  whose  inheritance  shall  I  abide  ? 

^  Then  the  Creator  of  all  things  commanded  me, 

^  And  he  that  created  me  fixed  ray  tabernacle  t 

«  And  said,  Let  thy  dwelling  be  in  Jacob, 

^  And  in  Israel  thine  inheritance. 

<«  Before  the  world  he  created  me,  from  the  beginning; 

«  And  I  shall  never  cease. 

^  In  the  tabernacle  of  holiness  I  served  before  him  ; 

<t  And  «•  was  I  established  in  Sion. 

<*  Thus  in  the  beloved  city  he  caused  me  to  rest, 

«  And  over  Jerusalem  was  my  power; 

^  I  toolL  root  in  an  honourable  people, 

^  In  the  portion  of  the  inheritance  of  Jbjiovaq. 

<<  As  a  cedar  in  Lebanon  was  I  exalted, 

tt  And  as  a  cypress  on  the  mountains  of  Hermon, 

<*  As  a  palm-tree  in  Gaddi  was  I  exalted, 

*f  And  as  planu  of  roses  in  Jericho  : 

tf  As  a  fair  olive  in  a  pleasant  field, 

«  And  as  a  plane-tree  I  was  exalted  above  the  waters ; 

*  As  cinnamon,  and  as  a  mass  of  ointment  I  yielded  fragrance^ 

«*  And  as  choice  myrrh  I  breathed  forth  a  pleasant  odour, 

<•  As  galbanum,  and  onyx,  and  storax, 

«  And  as  the  vapour  of  frankincense  in  the  tabernacle. 

<*  ly  as  the  turpentine*tree«  seat  out  my  branches, 

^  Aud  my  branches  are  the  branches  of  glory  and  favour. 

^  I,  as  the  vine,  blossomed  forth  a  pleasant  smell, 

<<  And  my  flowers  are  the  embryos  of  honour  and  wealth. 

^  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  desire  me, 

*^  And  with  my  productions  be  filled  : 

«  Por  IQ7  remembrance  is  sweeter  than  honey. 


949  PJUOACTIC  POETRY.  l^a.SH^. 

«  And  my  ppsiession  tbanlhe  cenib  oiiht  heoi* 

^  They  that  eat  me  shall  yet  be  hooj^ry ; 

<<  And  they  that  drinjL  me  shall  yet  be  thirsty. 

(<  He  that  obeyeth  me  shall  not  be  ashamed» 

«<  And  those  that  act  according  to  roe  shall  not  m- 

<<  All  these  are  in  the  boo^  of  Uie  cof  enant  of  God  aio«t  high ;. 

<«  The  law  which  Mosea  commandedf 

<«  An  inheritance  for  the  geperatioDBjpf  Jacob. 

«  Wisdom  fiileth  like  Pishoot 

<«  And  like  Hiddekel  in  tbe  month  Abib. 

«  She  makcth  the  understanding  to  overfloir  likr  l^upbniiea  | 

"  And  as  Jordan  in  the  days  of  kanrest. 

«  She  sendeth  forth  instruction  as  the  riYer,^ 

^  And  as  Gihon  in  the  days  of  the  vintage. 

^  The  first  roan  was  not  perfiect  in  the  knowledge  of  her, 

^  Neither  shall  the  last  search  her  out : 

<«  For  her  thoughts  are  more  extensive  than  the  «eat 

<|  And  her  counsels  than  the  vast  abyss. 

<<  I  came  forth  also  as  a  brook  from  ariver, 

9>  The  grandson  of  Sirach  amxars  ii\  this  place  to  have  fallen  into  aiD| 
error,  and  to  have  failed  of  expressing  th^  sentiment  of  his  ancestor :  for. 
finding  the  word  imperfectly  written  in  his  copy  be  read  it  nio,  and  rashly 
translated  it  «r  fuc  (as  the  light.)    Obsenre  also  the  incongraity  of  this 
word  with  the  context,  acooeding  to  the  common  readkig :   Pisqn,  Tigris^ 
Euphrates»  Jordan,  the  Ughtt  Gibon :   in  the  place  of  thA  Ugku  some  river 
must  certainly  be  intended,  and  therefore  we  ought  to  read  yxato*  «r  ^  l^. 
tat/btflf,  <M  tht  river,  that  is,  the  Nile,  so  called  for  the  sake  of  distinction : 
and  doubtless  to  a  Jew,  who  resided  in  its  neighbourhood,  and  who  waa  a 
spectator  of  its  wonderful  inundations,  it  would  appear  worthy  of  being 
ranked  with  the  most  noble  rivers,  and  consequently  worthy  of  this  dis- 
tinction.   Bloveever,  Jablbitskivs,  Fgnahecn  Egypt,  lib.  ir.  cap.  L  seet  2, 
is  of  opinion,  that  the  word  *iir  chiefly  refers  to  the  IGla  in  the  saeaed 
writers;  and  supposes  *vr,  in  the  Egyptian  Jabo,  to  bate  been  the  first  aid 
only  name  of  the  Nile  among  the  Egyptivis.    This  word,  however,  itself 
is  defectively  read  'VO  Axos  viii.  8,  (« it  is  read  nir:»  in  four  MSS."    K.) 
but  being  rq>eated  immediately,  it  is  more  fully  expressed  *)ir 9,  ix.  5.   See 
CArrxLL  Crit,  Sac.  iv.  2,  11.    A  learned  friend  of  mine  observed  to  me» 
that  the  great  BecBAaT  had  long  since  been  of  the  same  opinion,  whose 
authority  I  am  happy  to  adduee  in  favour  of  what  I  have  here  asserted : 
**  1M  is  a  rivfr,  as  well  as  *)icv    So  it  occurs  Amos  viii.  8,  where  it  is  ipofc*. 
"  en  of  the  Nile,  and  in  the  sapke  sense  it  is  used  by  the  sgn  of  Sirach» 
"  EccLus.  xxiv.  37,  where  it  has  been  kastUy  translated  the  lijjihi/*    Ql^ 
90011,  lib.  i.  chap.  23.     Anthior*M  JVWe. 


MuBf .  8^  MOACTIC  POETRY.  S49 

<<  And  as  a  «treaoi  in  Paradke  welled  bom  iCa  i^amaio. 

<<  I  said}  I  will  water  mf  garden) 

<«  And  I  will  abundantlf  water  my  fiirrow ; 

<<  And  behdd»  my  brook  became  a  rireri 

"  And  my  lirer  became  a  sea. 

<|  For  I  will  beam  forth  instruction  as  the  morning. 

(I  I  will  make  it  lo  shine  afar  off : 

"  Fur  I  will  pour  oat  doctrine  as  prophecy» 

<«  And  bequeath  it  to  all  generations  for  ever. 

«  Behold  I  have  not  laboured  for  myself  alone » 

<«  But  for  all  who  inquire  after  the  truth.**^ 

f  1  The  following  translation  of  diis  admirable  chapter  into  English  yerse 
was  furnished  me  by  an  ingenious  Iriendy  and  I  dare  belieye  will  prove  scf 
peptable  to  the  reader.    T. 

BccLssiasiBevs^vOnAV.  XXIV. 
Wisdsm  shall  raise  her  loud  exulting  voices 
Andy  'midst  her  people^  glory  and  rejoice ; 
Oft  the  Almighty^  awfbl  presence  near» 
Her  dulcet  sounds  sngelic  choirs  shall  hear/— 

Wak'd  by  tiie  breath  of  hewren^  high  king  to  birth^ 
I  seem'd  a  cloud  involTing  skies  and  earth ; 
Alofl,  on  places  high,  wss  my  retreat. 
Dark  mists  encircled  my  exited  seat ; 
Bound  the  broad  sky  I  solitary  roir'd. 
Or  through  the  mazy  depths  of  ocean  movM, 
My  paths  amidst  the  swelling  waTes  remun'd. 
Some  power  in  every  chang^g  clime  f  gain'd  ; 
With  each,  with  all,  I  anxious  sought  repose ; 
But  where,  say  where,  shall  Wisdom's  wanderings  close  ? 
Hark !  did  not  he,  who  fram'd  the  worlds,  command  ? 
Here  shall  thy  much-loT'd  tabernacle  stand. 
Here  on  the  plains  of  Jacob  shalt  thou  lire. 
Thy  goodly  heritage  shall  Israel  give. 

Me,  before  time  itself  he  gave  to  day, 
Kor  shall  my  spirit  fiiint,  or  feel  decay  ; 
I  bow'd  before  him  in  his  haUow'd  shrine. 
And  Sion's  pride  and  Sion's  strength  was  mine. 
Did  I  not  tall  as  those  fair  cedars  grow, 
Which  grace  our  Lebanon's  exalted  brow  ? 
Did  I  not  lofty  as  the  cypress  rise. 
Which  seems  from  Hermon's  heights  to  meet  the  skies  I 
^sh  as  Engaddi's  pahn  that  scents  the  air. 
Like  rose  of  Jericho,  so  sweet,  so  fair ; 
Careen  as  the  verdant  olire  of  the  grores. 


3V  DIDACTIC  POETRY.  LB0T«»4r 

Htnught  tt  the  plane-txee  wbich  the  atreamlet  lorei. 

Around  soft  •mnaxnon  its  odoor  fpreadsy 

AspalathuB  perfumes  our  balmy  meads ; 

More  grstef ttl  still  does  myrrh  its  fragrance  yield» 

Sweet  to  the  sense  the  glory  of  the  field  i— 

In  Salem's  temple,  st  Jsbotjlii's  shroie» 

From  frankincense  ascends  a  fiime  dirine ; 

Tet  did  my  bieath  more  precious  babns  exhale^ 

And  charge  with  fragrance  each  auspicious  gale. 

I  the  rich  produce  of  the  seasons  bring. 

And  grace  and  honour  'midst  my  foliage  spring ; 

Richer  than  vineyards  rise  my  sacred  bow'rs. 

Sweeter  than  roses  bloom  my  vernal  flew'rs ; 

fair  love  is  mine,  and  hope,  and  gentle  fear ; 

Me  science  haUowa,  aa  a  parent  dear. 

Come,  who  aspixe  beneath  my  shade  to  Qve  \ 
Come,  all  my  fragrancet  sU  my  fituta  receive ! 
Sweeter  than  honey  ate  the  strains  I  sing. 
Sweeter  than  honey-comb  the  dower  I  bring : 
Me,  taste  who  will,  shall  feel  increas'd  desire, 
Who  drinks  shall  still  my  flowing  cups  require } 
Be  whose  firm  heart  my  precepts  still  obeys. 
With  safety  walks  through  life's  perplexing  maze ; 
Who  cautious  follows  where  my  footsteps  lead, 
Ko  cares  shall  feel,  no  mgfatly  terrors  dread. 

Heaven's  book  records  my  ever  sacred  lor^ 
Beriv'd  from  hik,  whom  earth  and  sess  adore  i 
His  wisdom  guides  this  var3ring  scene  below, 
(Clear  as  in  spring  the  streams  of  Tigris  Bow) 
His  spirit  fills  with  hope  th'  expanding  soul. 
Full  as  the  waters  of  Euphrates  roll. 
Or  as,  when  harvest  sweUs  the  golden  grainy 
Impetuous  Jordan  rushes  o^er  the  plain^m 
From  him  the  ray  of  holy  science  shines. 
Bright  aa  the  sun  maturing  Geon's  vines  ^-> 
Man  breath'd  at  first  unconscious  of  the  power. 
Nor  knows  heaven's  wipdoni  at  lus  latest  hour. 

Small  was  my  stream,  when  first  I  roll'd  along. 
In  clear  meanders  Eden'9  vales  among ; 
With  freshening  draughts  each  tender  plant  I  fed. 
And  bade  each  fiow'ret  raise  its  blushing  head ; 
But  soon  my  torrent  o'er  its  margin  rose. 
Where  late  a  brook,  behold  an  oceaii  flows ! 
for  Wisdom's  blessings  shall  o'^  earth  extend,  ^ 

plessings  that  know  no  bound,  that  know  no  cnd«- 
lUch  selfish  labour  Wisdom  shall  disdain, 
}^j  fruit»  my  treasures,  all  who  seek  shall  gau^. 


OF  LTRIC  POETRY. 

LECTURE  XXV. 

OP  THE  HEBREW  ODE  IK  GENERAL ;  AND  FIRST  OP  THAT 
eLASS,  THE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  WHICH  ARE  SWEETNESS 
AND  ELEGANCE. 

Lyric  Poetry  originated  from  the  most  jocund  and  pleAsing  alfectiont  of 
the  human  mind^-The  roost  ancient  species  of  poetry,  and  almost  coeval 
vith  human  nature  itself— Particularly  cultivated  by  the  Hebrews— The 
manner»  introduced  by  David»  of  singing  their  odes  highly  magnificent— 
The  general  character  of  this  species  of  poetry :  its  principal  distinc- 
tions— ^The  first  character  of  the  Ode,  sweetness — What  passions  and  af> 
fections  it  is  intended  to  express:  examples  from  the  Psalms— The 
cxxxiiid  Psalm  in  English  verse. 

J.  HOSE  compositions  which  were  intended  for  music, 
whether  vocal  alone,  or  accompanied  with  instruments, 
obtained  among  the  Hebrews  the  appellation  of  Shir^ 
among  the  Greeks  that  of  Ode  ;  and  both  these  words 
have  exactly  the  same  power  and  signification.  The 
Hebrew  word,  as  well  as  the  Greek,  appears  in  course 
of  time  to  have  been  appropriated  to  denote  a  particular 
form  and  species  of  poetry,  with  this  diflference  howev-. 
er,  that  it  is  occasionally  used  with  greater  latitude. 

The  ode  is  in  its  nature  sufficiently  expressive  of  its 
origin.  It  was  the  offspring  of  the  most  vivid,  and  the 
most  agreeable  passions  of  the  mind,  of  love,  joy,  and 
admiration.  If  w«  consider  man  on  his  first  creation, 
such  as  the  sacred  writings  represent  him ;  in  perfect 
possession  of  reason  and  speech ;  neither  ignorant  of  his 
own  nor  of  the  divine  nature,  but  fully  conscious  oi  the 


35S  LYRIC  POETRY.  Lbct.  S5. 

goodness,  majesty,  and  power  of  God  ;  not  an  unobser* 
vant  spectator  of  the  beautiful  fabric  of  the  universe ; 
b  it  not  probable,  that  on  the  contemplation  of  these  ob- 
jects, his  heart  would  glow  with  gratitude  and  love  ? 
And  is  it  not  probable,  that  the  effect  of  such  an  emo- 
tion  would  be  an  effusion  of  praise  to  his  great  creator, 
accompanied  with  a  sukabkr  energy  and  exaltation  of 
voice?  Such  indeed  were  the  sensations  experienced 
by  the  author  of  that  most  beantifiit  psataa,  in  whidi 
Ae  whcrfe  creation  19  invited  to  cdebrate  the  glory  of 
the  most  high  God : 

^  Prme  JsROTAff  from  tbe  heafvni ; 
«  Praise  hkn  in  the  heights  : 
^  Praise  him  all  his  angels  ; 
<(  Praise  him  aU  his  hosu/*^ 

This  hjrmn  is,  therefore,  most  elegantly  imitated^  and 
put  into  the  mouth  of  Adam  by  our  countryman  Milton,* 
who  is  justly  accounted  the  next  in  sublimity  to  those 
poetSy  who  wrote  under  the  influence  of  diviner  inspi- 
ration. Indeed  wr  scarcely  seem  to  conceive  rigfacfy  of 
that  original  and  perfeet  state  of  man^  aoiess  we  assign 
him  some  of  the  aids  of  harmony  and  poetical  express 
sion,  to  enable  him  to  testify  in  terms;  becoming  the^ 
dignity  of  the  subject,  his  devout  afibctions  towards  his 
infinite  Creator. 

Without  carrjingoiiF  researches^  however,  to  objects 
so  remote  from  humaa  information,  if  we  appeal  ontjr 
to  the  common  testimony  of  histoiy,  we  shall  find  that, 
among  every  people  not  utterly  barbarous^  the  ose  erf 
music  and  poetry  in  the  celebration  of  their  reKg^s» 
mysteries,  has  prevailed  from  the  first  periods  oS  so** 
ciety.  Of  all  that  sacred  melody,  which  Plato  infora»sf 
us  was  sometimes  established  by  the  solemn  sanctioni 

«  P».  cririii.  %  Pw%fdi^Lo9tt  lib.  r. 


LsGT.dS.^  LTRIC  POETRY.  355 

of  legal  audiority,*  he  assigns  the  first  rank  to  that  which 
assumed  the  form  of  addresses  to  the  Deity,  and  wad 
distinguished  by  the  appellation  of  Hymns.  In  all  the 
Latin  poetry,  there  is  nothing  that  can  boast  equal  an- 
tiquity with  the  Salian  poems  of  Numa,  composed  by 
that  wise  and  learned  monarch  on  the  first  institution  of 
his  religious  rites,  and  sung  by  the  Salii,  whom  Dio- 
nysius  styles  "  the  chorus  of  the  gods  of  war,'**  with 
solemn  dancing  and  other  religious-ceremonies.  There 
is  scarcely  any  necessity  to  mention,  that  the  most  an* 
cient  of  all  poems  extant  (those  I  mean  of  which  the 
date  b  ascertained,  and  which  deserve  the  name  of  po* 
ems)  b  the  thanksgiving  Ode  of  Moses  on  passing  the 
Red  Sea,  the  most  perfect  in  its  kind,  and  the  true  and 
genuine  effusion  of  the  joyful  afiections.  Thus  the  or- 
igin of  the  ode  may  be  traced  into  that  of  poetry  itself, 
and  appears  to  be  coeval  with  the  commencement  of  re« 
li^on,  or  more  properly  the  creation  of  man/ 

3  Ue  Jjtgibmf  ui.  4  AnHq,  Bam,  iL  TO. 

<  ThU  conclusion  appears  to  me  neither  consonant  to  reason  nor  to  fsct. 
The  first  use  of  poetry  was  probably  to  preserve  the  remembrance  of  events, 
and  Bot  «be  eiq^ressions  of  passion ;  according^ly,  the  remuns  of  the  first  po- 
etic compositions  appear  to  have  been  of  the  fonner  kind.  One  instance 
was  given  in  a  preceding  Lecture  relative  to  the  history  of  Lamech»  and 
another  may  here  he  added  concerning  that  of  Nimrod— <*  He  was  a  mighty 
hanter  (ratber  warrior)  before  the  Lord  :'*  wherefore  it  is  said  >— 
*•  As  Nimrod  the  mighty  hunter  befidfe  the  Lerd.** 

AgieeaUe  to  this  idea  is  an  observation,  respecting  the  Arabians,  of  the 
late  ingenious  but  ill-treated  Dr.  Brown :  '*  The  oldest  comporitUma  are  in 
*  rhfthm^  or  rude  veree,  and  are  often  cited  as  proof t  of  their  oubaequent  hie- 
**  tory,**  It  is  not  only  evident  that  Hoses  applied  them  in  this  way,  but 
also  that  they  were  long  prior  to  sny  example  of  the  existence  of  an  ode; 
which,  however,  seems  to  have  been  in  fact,  as  well  as  in  nature,  the  next 
species  of  poetic  composition.    S.  H. 

The  rude  poetiy  of  barbarous  nations  (as  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the 
accounts  of  those  who  have  visited  the  9outh-sea  islands  and  the  Indian 
nations)  relates  in  general  to  love  and  war  /  it  is  employed  in  cherishing, 
er  in  exciting  the  passione.    Notwithstanding,  therefore,  the  ingenuity  of 

45 


964  LYRIC  POETRY.  Lbct^VSt. 

The  Hebrews  cultivated  this  kind  of  poetry  above 
every  other,  and  therefore  may  well  be  supposed  to  have 
been  peculiarly  excellent  in  it.  It  was  usual  in  every 
period  of  that  nation  to  celebrate  in  songs  of  joy  their 
gratitude  to  God,  their  Saviowr,  for  every  fortunate 
event,  and  particularly  for  success  in  war.  Hence  the 
triumphal  odes  of  Moses,  of  Deborah,  of  David.  The 
schools  of  the  prophets  were  also^  in  all  probability,  co- 
eval with  the  republic ;  and  were  certainly  antecedent 
to  the  monarchy  by  many  years :  there,  as  we  have  a!» 
ready  seen,  the  youth,  educated  in  the  prophetic  dis- 
cipline, applied  themselves,  among  other  studies,  par» 
ticularly  to  sacred  poetry,  and  celebrated  the  praises  of 
Almighty  God  in  Lyric  compositions,  accompanied 
with  music.  Under  the  government  of  David,  howev- 
er,  the  arts  of  music  and  poetry  were  in  their  most 
flourishing  state.  By  htm  no  less  than  four  thousand 
singers  or  musicians  were  appointed  fron^  among  the 
Levites,*  under  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  principal 
singers,  or  leaders  of  the  band,,  and  distributed  into 
twenty-four  companies,  who  officiated  weekly  by  rota- 
tion in  the  temple,,  and  whose  whole. business  v^as  to 
perform  the  sacred  hymns ;  the  one  part  chanting  or 
singing,  and  the  other  playing  upon  different  instru- 
ments/ The  chief  of  these  were  Asaph,  Heman,  and 
Iduthun,  who  also,  as  we  may  presume  from  the  titles 
of  the  Psalms,  were  composers  of  hymns.*  From  so 
very  splendid  an  establishment,  so  far  surpassing  every 
other  appointment  of  the  kind,  some  reasonable  conjec- 
tures may  be  formed  concerning  the  original  dignity 

the  above  remark  C^hich  on  Uiat  account  I  would  not  omit)  I  am  inclined 
to  t]iink  there  is  more  foundation  for  our  author's  theory  than  Mr.  tL  sup»- 
pos'?s.     See  Etaay»  HUt.  and  Mor,  Eas.  i.  p.  SI      T. 

fl  1  Caaoir.  xxiii.  5.  ''I  GBMir.  xxr.  1— 7. 

a  See  also  2  Cnaow.  xxiz.  30. 


Lkct.  9S.  LTRIC  poetry.  855 

and  grandeur  of  the  Hebrew  ode.  We  must  remember 
too,  that  we  at  present  possess  only  some  ruins  as  it 
were  of  that  magnificent  fabric,  deprived  of  every  orna- 
ment, except  that  splendour  and  elegance,  which,  not- 
withstanding the  obscurity  that  antiquity  has  cast  over 
them,  still  shine  forth  in  the  sentiments  and  language. 
Hence,  in  treating  of  the  Hebrew  ode^  we  must  be  con* 
tent  to  omit  entirely  what  relates  to  the  sacred  music, 
afnd  the  nature  of  the  instruments  which  accompanied 
the  vocal  performance;  though  there  is  the  utmost 
probability,  that  these  circumstances  were  not  without 
their  influence,  as  far  as  respects  the  form  and  construc- 
tion of  the  different  species  of  ode.  Our  information 
upon  these  subjects  is,  indeed,  so  very  scanty,  that  I 
esteem  it  safer  to  be  silent  altogether  concerning  them, 
than  to  imitate  the  example  of  some  of  the  learned,  who, 
after  saying  much,  have,  in  fact,  said  nothing.  I  shall 
therefore  proceed  to  a  brief  inquiry  into  the  general  na- 
ture and  properties  of  this  species  of  poetry ;  and  aftec 
that,  we  ^all  be  better  qualified  to  judge  of  those  spec- 
imens which  have  been  transmitted  to  us  by  the  Hebrew 
writers. 

Of  all  the  different  forms  of  poetical  composition, 
there  is  none  more  agreeable,  harmonious,  elegant,  di- 
versified and  sublime  than  the  ode ;  and  these  qualities 
are  displayed  in  the  order,  sentiments,  imagery,  diction, 
and  versification.  The  principal  beauty  of  an  ode  con- 
sists in  the  order  and  arrangement  of  the  subject ;  but 
this  excellencies  while  it  is  easily  felt,  is  difficult  to  be 
described,  for  there  is  this  peculiarity  attending  it,  that 
the  form  of  the  ode  is  by  no  means  confined  to  any  cer- 
tain rule  for  the  exact  and  accurate  distribution  of  the 
parts.  It  is  lively' and  unconstrained :  when  the  subjcrct 
is  sublime,  it  is  impetuous,  bold,  and  sometimes  might 


316  LTRIC  POETRT.  Lscr.tf. 

abnofit  deaerve  the  epithet  licentious  as  to  symmetiy 
and  method :  but  even  in  this  case,  and  uniformly  in 
every  other,  a  certain  facility  and  ease  must  pervade  the 
whole,  which  may  afford  at  least  the  appearance  of  un« 
affected  elegance,    and  seem  to  prefer  nature  to  art. 
This  appearance  is  best    preserved   by  an  exordium 
plain,  simple,  and  expressive ;    by  a  dispby  and  detail 
of  incidents  and  sentiments  risti^  delicately  and  artfully 
fipom  eadi  other,  yet  without  any  appearance  of  art ;  and 
by  a  conclusion  not  pointed  or  epigrammatic,  bot  finish» 
ing  by  a  gentle  turn  of  the  sentiment  in  a  part  where  it 
is  least  expected,  and  sometimes  as  it  were  by  chance»* 
Thus  it  b  not  the  metre  or  verification  which  constii» 
tutes  this  qiecies  of  composition ;   Cor  unless  all  tbese 
circumstances  be  adverted  to,  it  is  plain  that  whatever 
be  the  merit  of  tlie  production,  it  cannot  with  any  pro» 
priety  be  termed  an  ode.    Many  of  the  odes  of  Horace 
arc  entirely  in  this  form,  as  well  as  almost  all  of  those 
few  which  our  countryman  Hannes  has  left  behind  hira« 
There  are  two  Lyric  poems  in  the  Sylvse  of  Pj^iiriua 
Statins,'^  of  which  the  versification  is  full,  sonorous,  and 
flowing ;    the  sentiments  elegant ;    the  diction,  if  not 
highly  polished,  yet  ardent  and  glowing ;  on  the  whole, 
however,  the  form,  the  grace,  the  express  manner  of  the 
ode  b  wanting. 

The  sentiments  and  im^;ery  must  be  suitable  to  the 
nature  of  the  subject  and  the  composition^  which  b  va. 
ried  and  uncon&ied  by  strict  rule  or  ntethod.  On  fi^ 
miliar  subjects  they  will  be  sprightly,  florid,  and  agreea-. 

9  I  do  not  know  any  I^yric  poenty  to  which  this  commendatioD  is  more 
appliCitble  than  the  Arabic  :  I  do  not  speak  of  all»  but  the  best  of  them. 
I  have  scarcely  ever  observed  happier  condusioos  to  any  poevis»  than  tft 
some  ci  the  Arabic  odes.    M. 

l01ib.iT.SylT.^ai7. 


Lbct.  95.  .  LYRIC  POETRY.  Ssf 

Ue ;  on  sublime  topics^  sc^nm,  bold,  «nd  vivid  ;  oo 
every  subject»  highly  elegant,  expressive»  and  diversified. 
Imagery  from  natural  objects  ia  peculiarly  adapted  to 
the  ode;  historical  common-places  may  also  be  admits 
ted,  as  well  as  descriptions  lively  but  short,  and  (when 
it  rises  to  any  uncommon  strain  of  sublimity)  frequent 
peraonificationsb  The  diction  must  be  choice  and  ele- 
gant, it  must  be  also  luminous,  clear,  and  animated ;  it 
must  possess  some  elegancies  peculiar  to  itself,  and  be 
'fls  distinct  from  the  common  language  of  poetry,  as  the 
form  and  fashion  of  the  production  is  from  the  general 
cast  of  poetical  composition.  In  thb  that  happiness  of 
expression,  for  which  Horace  is  so  justly  celebrated, 
wholly  consists.  A  sweetness  and  variety  in  the  versifi- 
cation is  indispensable,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
language,  or  as  the  infinite  diversity  of  subjects  may  re- 
quire. 

It  is  much  to  be  hmented,  that  in  treating  of  the  He- 
brew ode,  we  must  of  necessity  be  silent  concerning  the 
numbers  or  verification,  which  (though  we  are  almost 
totally  ignorant  of  its  nature  and  principles)  we  have  the 
utmost  reason  to  suppose  was  accommodated  to  the  ma- 
MC,  and  agreeable  to  the  genius  of  the  language.^^  In 
every  other  respect,  as  the  force  and  elegance  of  the  lan- 
guage, the  beauty  and  dignity  of  the  sentiments  and  im- 
agery, the  different  graces  and  excellencies  of  order  and 
arrangement,  I  shall  not  he^tate  to  prefer  the  Hebrew 
writers  to  the  lyric  poeta  of  every  other  nation.  But  lest 
we  should  dubiously  wander  in  so  extensive  a  field,  it 
will  be  proper  to  prescribe  some  kind  of  limit  to  our 

11  This  may  Ve  presmned  from  a  Twiety  of  cbcumstaiieety  particukriy 
such  as  mi^^ht  be  pointed  out  in  theexzxTth  Psalm,  where  Jah  ia  sometimes 
used  and  sometimes  Jefuwth,  where  either  mig^ht,  for  any  other  than  a  me« 
trical  consideratioD,  have  been  indiscriminately  used.    S.  H. 


S5S  LYRIC  POETRY.  L«ct.  t5. 

course,  which  may  be  conveniently  done,  by  distribut- 
ing all  the  diversities  of  this  species  of  compositicm  into 
diree  general  classes.  Of  the  first  class  the  general  char- 
acteristic will  be  sweetness,  of  the  last  sublimity ;  and 
between  these  we  may  introduce  one  of  a  middle  nature, 
as  partaking  of  the  properties  of  both."  The  qualities, 
which  may  be  accounted  common  to  all  the  three  classes» 
are  variety  and  elegance. 

o  It  will  not  be  unseasonable  in  this  place»  perhaps,  to  oflTcr  a  few  re- 
soarks  on  the  peculiar  character  of  the  lyric  poetry  of  David.  For  some 
commentators,  by  too  indiscriminately  praising  it,  have  paid  no  regard  to 
its  peculiar  characteristics  i  and  thus  from  so  intenipente  zeal,  the  poet 
has  even  lost  a  part  of  that  commendation  which  was  justly  due  to  him. 

For  my  part,  judging  rather  by  my  taste  and  feelings,  thsn  by  any  rulea 
of  art,  I  think  David  seems  to  excel  in  this  first  species  of  ode,  the  chanc« 
teristic  of  which  is  sweetness.  He  is  unequalled  when  he  describes  the 
objects  of  nature,  the  fields,  the  woods,  the  fountains ;  and  of  his  other 
odea  those  are  most  excellent,  which  he  composed  in  his  exiles :  nor  is  this 
any  thing  extraordinary ;  he  had  then  more  lebure  for  the  cultivation  of 
poeti>',  be  experienced  more  vivid  sensations  than  at  otht»  times,  and  he 
treated  of  those  objects  which,  being  immediately  before  his  eyes,  brought 
back  to  his  mind  tlie  recollection  of  his  youth,  and  inspired  his  imaginatiott 
with  fresh  vigour.  It  is  however  remarkable,  that  those  which  he  compos- 
ed in  his  old  age,  when  he  fled  from  Absalom,  not  only  equal  the  fruits  of 
his  early  years,  but  even  surpass  them  in  fire  and  spirit :  if,  as  I  am  fully 
persuaded,  the  xxiiid  and  xltid  Psalms  were  produced  during  that  exile. 

On  the  other  hand,  those  Psalms  interest  me  less,  in  which  the  more  vio- 
lent afi'ections  prevail,  whether  of  sorrow  or  indignation,  not  even  except- 
ing such  as  imprecate  curses  on  his  enemies.  There  is  in  these  much  of 
the  terrific ;  but  in  reading  them,  the  heart  is  not  affected,  the  passions  are 
not  vehemently  excited.  These  odes  do  not  possess  that  general  solemnity 
and  awful  sublimity  which  characterize  the  book  of  Job,  a  composition  of 
a  different  class,  but  possessing  exquisite  force  in  moving  the  passions. 
Neither  are  loftiness  of  diction,  or  boldness  m  describing  objects  of  terror, 
to  be  accounted  amongst  the  excellencies  of  David ;  for  in  these  respects 
he  not  only  yields,  in  my  opinion,  to  Job,  but  also  to  Moses.  I  do  not  ex- 
cept the  xviiith  Psalm,  in  the  first  verses  of  whi<^  I  observe  more  of  art 
and  design,  than  of  real  horror  and  sublimity :  in  what  foUows,  the  warmth 
of  the  composition  subsides,  and  it  becomes  more  tesiperate  than  might  be 
expected  from  sucli  an  exordium.  The  Mosaic  Psalms  I  confess  please 
roe  more  in  this  respect,  snd  therefore  I  prefer  the  xxixth  to  that  in  quesr 
tion.    M. 


L«CT.  S5.  LYRIC  POETRY.  85* 

Although  the  lyric  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  b  always 
occupied  upon  serious  subjects,  nor  ever  descends  to 
that  levity  which  is  admitted  into  that  of  other  nations, 
the  character  of  sweetness  is  by  no  means  inconsistent 
with  it.  The  sweetness  of  the  Hebrew  ode  consists  in 
the  gende  and  tender  passions  which  it  excites ;  in  the 
gay  and  florid  imagery,  and  in  the  chaste  and  unostenta- 
tious diction  which  it  employs.  The  passions  which  it 
generally  affects  are  those  of  love,  tenderness,  hope, 
cheerfulness,  and  pensive  sorrow.  In  the  sixty-third 
Fsalm  the  royal  prophet,  supposed  to  be  then  an  exile  in 
the  wilderness,  expresses  most  elegantly  the  sentiments 
of  tenderness  and  love.  The  voice  of  grief  and  com- 
plaint is  tempered  with  the  consolations  of  hope  in  the 
eightieth  Psalm  :  and  the  ninety-second  consists  wholly 
of  joy,  which  is  not  the  less  sincere,  because  it  is  not 
excessive.  The  sweetness  of  all  these  in  composition, 
sentiment,  diction,  and  arrangement,  has  never  been 
equalled  by  the  finest  productions  of  all  the  heathen 
Muses  and  Graces  united.  Though  none  of  the  above 
are  deficient  in  imagery,  I  must  confess  I  have  never 
met  with  any  image  so  truly  pleasing  and  delightful  as 
the  following  description  of  the  Deity  in  the  characte^ 
of  a  shepherd : 

M  The  Lord  is  my  shepherd»  I  shall  not  want : 
<<  In  tender  grass  he  giveth  me  to  lie  down ; 
<<  He  guideth  me  to  streams  that  gently  flow/^^ 

19  PsAUf  xxiii.  1.  Tbia  Psalm  is  deserving  of  sU  the  commeadAtioii 
which  our  author  has  bestowed  upon  it.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  was  com* 
posed  by  David,  when  he  was  expelled  from  the  holy  city  and  temple :  foi^ 
in  the  6th  verse  he  hopes  for  a  return  to  the  house  of  God.  Since  of  sU 
the  divine  mercies  he  particularly  commemorates  this,  that  in  time  of  ne* 
cessity  he  wants  for  nothing,  and  is  even  received  to  a  banquet  in  the  sight 
of  his  enemies,  1  conceive  it  to  relate  to  that  time,  wlien  flying  from  the 
contest  with  his  disobedient  son,  he  pitched  his  camp  beyond  Jordan,  and 
was  in  danger  of  seeing  his  little  army  perish  for  want  of  provision  in  thai 
tmcultivatcd  region^  or  of  being  deserted  by  sU  his  friends.    Afisirs,howv 


HO  LYRIC  POETRY.  L»ct.  %S. 

How  graceful  and  animated  is  that  rich  and  flourishing 
picture  of  nature,  which  b  exhibited  in  the  sixty-fifth 

ever,  turned  out  quite  different :  for  what  he  could  not  foresee  or  hope,  the 
Almighty  performed  for  him.  The  veteran  loldierB  flowed  in  to  him  from 
every  qiurter«  and  hia  whole  camp  was  so  liberally  supported  by  the  good 
and  opulent  ciUcena,  that  in  this  very  situation  he  was  enabled  to  coUect 
an  army  and  risk  the  event  of  a  battle.    See  2  Saw.  xvix.  36—39. 

He  therefore  compares  himself  to  a  sheep,  and  the  Almighty  to  a  ahqp* 
herd  e  a  very  abrioos  figvret  and  whidi  every  day  oecarred  to  hia  aight 
during  his  stay  in  those  desert  parU.  The  sheep»  tiroid,  defeoeeleaa,  ex* 
posed  to  all  the  beasts  of  prey,  and  possessed  ef  little  knowledge  or  power 
of  ibresaeing  or  avoiding  danger,  are  indeAited  for  life,  safety,  and  every 
thing'*  to  Hie  care  of  the  shepherd.  We  most  remember  also,  that  the  ex- 
iled king  bad  formerly  himself  been  a  shepherd.  The  recollection  therefore 
of  his  past  life  breaks  in  upon  bis  mind.  **  Jbbovih,'*  say  he,  **  ia  my 
«<  shepherd,  I  shall  want  nothing.**  It  b  hia  province  to  provide  for  my  ex- 
istence, and  to  procure  fer  me  those  blessings  which  I  am  imable  to  dbtaia 
for  myself.  The  tender  herb  Cdaaka,  which  is  properly  the  vir^  lierb,er 
that  which  has  not  budded  into  seed  or  blossom)  is  more  gratafiil  to  aheep 
than  that  which  is  seeded  Cgne—bJ  Gair.  i.  10, 11.  In  meadows,  thetefofc^ 
covered  with  the  green  and  tender  grass,  he  supposes  Jsiovah  to  cauae  him 
to  rest  under  his  care.  He  was  expelled  to  Lebanon,  from  the  tops  of  which 
eataracta  of  melted  snow  are  constantly  falling :  these  are  dangerous  for 
sheep  to  approach,  nor  is  the  water  sufficiently  wholesome.  He  therelbie 
adds,  that  he  ia  led  to  waters  gently  flowing,  where  the  clear  atream  mean- 
dera  through  the  fertile  plain.  The  scene  which  was  before  hia  ey»  con« 
alated  of  rude  hills  snd  valleys,  deep,  gloomy,  dark,  and  horrid,  the  haunts 
only  of  the  fiercest  animals.  I.  would  here  remai-k,  that  the  word  irvAv, 
which  according  to  the  Masoretic  punctuation  b  read  TiUmunxt^  and 
translated  the  •haduwt  of  deaths  would  be  better  read  TxiUmott  and  trans- 
lated simply  shades,  *or  the  valley  of  the  thadei,  and  I  am  led  to  thia  coo- 
elusion  by  comparing  it  with  the  Arabic.  There  is  no  safety  for  the  sheep 
in  these  valleys  but  in  the  care  of  the  shepherd.  You  aie  therefore  piesent- 
ed  with  a  great  variety  of  contrasted  imagery  in  thb  Psalm ;  on  the  one 
hand,  the  open  pastures,  and  the  flowing  rivulets,  the  recollection  of  which 
never  faib  to  delight ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  cheerless  and  gloomy 
valleys,  which  inspire  the  reader  with  fresh  horror.  Descending  fi^m  fig- 
urative  to  plain  language,  he  next  celebrates  the  bounty  of  God  in  prepar- 
ing  him  a  banquet  in  the  face  of  hb  enemies ;  and  therefore  regales  himaelf 
with  the  delicious  hope,  that  he  shall  once  more  be  restored  to  hb  sacted 
temple.    M. 

Mr.  Tati  (in  our  con^mon  version  of  the  Psalms)  has  been  remarkabfy 
foKunate  in  his  paraphrase  of  the  first  verses  of  this  Psalm ;  so  much  in* 
deed,  that  for  simplicity,  and  a  close  adherence  to  the  spirit  of  the  origins^ 
I  cannot  help  preferring  it  to  the  celebrated  translation  of  Mr.  Addiaon : 


Ltct.  35.  LYRIC  POETRT.  M% 

Psalm.  When  the  Prophet,  with  a  fertilitjr  of  expre»»^ 
sbn  correspondent  to  the  subject^  praises  the  beneficence 
of  the  Deity  in  watering  the  earth  and  making  it  fruitfuL 
On  a  sublime  subject  also,  but  still  one  of  the  gay  and 
^^;reeable  kind,  I  mean  the  inauguration  of  Solomon, 
which  is  celebrated  in  the  seventy-second  Psabn,  there 
is  such  variety  and  beauty  of  imagery,  such  a  splendour 
of  diction,  such  elegance  in  the  composition,  that  I  be- 
tieve  it  will  be  impos^ble  in  the  whole  compass  of  liter* 
ature,  sacred  or  profane,  to  find  such  an  union  of  sub* 
limity  with  sweetness  and  grace. 

These  few  select  examples  of  the  elegant  and  beauti- 
ful in  lyric  composition,  I  have  pointed  out  for  your 
more  attentive  consideration  ;  and  I  am  of  opinion,  that 
«n  all  the  treasures  of  the  Muses  you  will  seek  in  vain 
far  models  more  perfect.  I  will  add  one  other  sped* 
men,  which,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  is  expressive  of  the 
true  lyric  form  and  character;  and  compresses  in  a 
small  compass  all  the  merits  and  elegance  incidental  to 
that  species  of  compositiofi.  It  is,  if  I  may  be  allowed 
to  use  the  expression  of  a  very  polite  writer» 

A  drop  from  Helicon,  a  flower 

Culi'd  from  tbe  muse's  favourite  bower.^ 

'*  The  Lord  himself,  the  mighty  Lord, 

«*  Vouchsafes  to  be  my  g^ide ; 
**  The  shepherd,  by  whose  constant  cuat 

**  My  wants  are  all  supplied» 
*  In  tender  grass  he  makes  me  feed, 

**  And  genUy  there  repose ; 
''  And  leads  me  to  cool  shades»  and  whcft 
^  Refreshing  water  flows." 
The  fifteenth  Psalm  is  also  admirably  translated  by  the  same  haftd :  the  last 
terse  in  particular  is  beantilul  and  sublime :  though  the  classical  reader 
will  see  that  the  translater  had  his  eye  on  the  **  Si  fractus  illabatur  oriiis^ 
ef  Horace.    T. 
M  Caluxacs.  Hymn,  in  Apdil.  y.  l^ 

46 


3^9  LYttTC  POETttt>  Lmt.  U. 

The  Palmist  contemplating  the  hannoiiy  which  per« 
vaded  the  solemn  assembly  of  the  people,  at  the  celebnk 
tion  of  one  of  their  festivals,  expresses  himself,  nearlj 
as  follows : 

<<  Hbw  blest  the  si^tt  the  J07  how  sweety 
«  When  brothers  jom'd  with  brditlers  meal 

^  In  bandB  of  mu«ael  love  I 
^  LcM  ftwect  Ibe  liquid  fragrance,  shed 

tB  ThH  FMlm  is  one  of  Hie  fifteen,  wbieh  tft  entitled,  6dit  •/  fke  A^ 
€enH9n9 :  that  is,  which  were  ■Qn||^  when  the  people  etmt  up  either  to  wor* 
thip  in  Jeresalem  at  the  annual  ftstivals,  or  perhaps  from  the  Babjlenish 
captivity.  The  return  is  certainly  called  **  the  tuctiuhn  or  coming  up  from 
ftabylon,^  fixR.  vii.  9.  And  the  old  Sieiao  translator,  ^o  explains  liie 
subjects  of  the  psalms  by  apposite  titles,  lefe^S'to  this  eircumstaace  al^ 
most  all  the  psalms  that  bear  this  inscription ;  some  of  them  indeed  with- 
out sufficient  foundation  ;  but  many  of  them  manifestly  hare  rdaticm  to  iC^ 
Theodore\  indiacrlmiliattly  ezplsfins  them  all  as  vdatiiig  to  the  BdbylowA 
captivity ;  and  thus  illustrates  the  title :  **  Odes  of  the  Ascenabos  :  The» 
odotion,  Songs  of  the  Ascensions  TBut  Symmachus  and  Aquila,  on  the  re> 
turtfs.  It  is  etrident  that  the  oomin|^  up,  and  the  aseent  rekte  to  the  le- 
tian  of  the  people  fix»  the'  Babykmish  captivity."  Thiob»  in  Ps.  oxs. 
But  we  must  not  omit  remarking*  also,  that  both  in  the  Old  and  New-Tes* 
tament  there  is  scarcely  a  phrase  more  common  than  *<  to  gb  up  to  Jerusa* 
lem,  to  go  up  %>  the  feast,*'  Itc.  (See  Joeir,  vii.  8^)  And  observe  above  tl^ 
rest,  Pb.  cxxii.  which  can  scarcely  be  applied  to  any  thing  but  the  celebra^ 
tion  of  some  festival.  What  the  Jews  say  about  the  steps  tmendinj  to  the 
temple  is  unworthy  the  attention  of  any  person  of  conunon  sense.  In  the 
last  period  of  this  psalm,  the  particle  cnr  (^thomj  is  neceasarily  to  be  re- 
ferred to  the  word  rnr  Ctxion  gj  and  there  is  nothing  else  to  which  it  can 
be  referred.  Besides,  to  what,  except  to  Sinn,  can  the  promises  Beraekak 
and  Chajiu  relate  ?  (See  particularly  Ps.  cxxxii.  13  and  15.)  These  words 
are  indeed  ambiguous,  so  that  they  may  refer  either  to  temporal  or  eternal 
happiness,  or  to  both  alike.  {Compare  Bsirr.  xxviiL  3,  Skc.  with  Ps.  xxir. 
5,  and  Pkot.  xxvii.  37,  with  Dav.  xxii.  2.)  And  in  this  place,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  mystical  allegory,  they  mar  be  interpreted  in  either 
sense.  If  these  remarks  be  true,  the  critics  have  tiJcen  a  g^reat  deal  of 
pains  about  nothing.  There  is  no  occaaion  ^fer  emeodatton.  U  the  ellipsis 
be  only  supplied  by  the  word  m*iai  (as  the  drw)  of  aknply  by  the  particle 
t«  or  ce  f4md  or  at  J  before  the  word  detcemSnf  (or  which  descuids)  the 
construction  witl  be  complete.  In  the  same  manner  Hezekiah  says  in  Isaiab  : 
'*  As  a  swallow,  (and  as)  a  crane,  so  I  chattered." 

Ch^.  xxxriiL  14    JbUh9i^9  AUr. 


LxcT.  %S.  LTRIC  POETRY.  StiS 

»  On  Aaron's  consecrated  headi 

**  Ran  trickling  from  above : 
**  And  reach*d  his  l>eard}  and  reach'd  his  rest: 
tt  x^ess  Hweet  the  dews  on  Hermon's  breast, 

^  Or  Sion's  hill  descend : 
«  That  hill  has  God  with  blessbgs  crown'd,        ^ 
<<  There  promised  grace  that  knows  no  buiind» 

M  And  af«  that  knows  no  end."'* 

M  On  a  former  occasion  I  thoug^ht  it  necessary  to  troul>le  the  reader 
with  an  imitation  of  Buduman't  version  of  Uus  beaatifiil  psoira.  I  have 
since  endcMroored  to  complete  it.  If  the  measure  should  seem  in  the  eyes 
of  some  to  bear  too  neat  a  resemblance  to  that  of  their  old  acquaintance 
Stembold,  I  have  only  to  urge»  that  its  simplicity  seems  to  be  more  suita* 
bk  to  the  sttlyect»  than  that  which  Mr.  Merrick  has  adopted  Notwith- 
atanding  our  author's  ingenious  deience  of  his  own  (which  is  also  Mr. 
Merrick's)  interpretation  of  the  last  verse,  I  am  well  convinced  that  Bucha* 
nsn'a  versiM  i*  right,  and  tiiat  ttte  particle  fhom  in  the  last  verse  relates  to 
the^peraonsp  imd  not  to  the  places  indeed»^not  only  a  great  part  of  the  gov 
«ral  utility,  but  even  the  beauty  of  this  ode  is  lost,  by  interpreting  it  oth-  . 
erwise.  The  following  I  submit  with  all  htmiility  to  the  judgement  of  the 
Sfader»  mex^  that  I  nu^y  mot  leave  the  former  stanzas  imperfect : 

P94]uf  txtxm. 
Sweet  it  the  Io«e,  th^t  mutual  giowi 

Within  each  brother's  breast ; 
And  binds  in  gentlest  bonds  each  heart. 

All  blessing,  and  all  blest : 
6weet  as  the  odorous  balsam  povr'd 

On  Aaron's  sacred  head. 
Which  o'er  his  beard,  and  down  his  vest, 

A  breathing  fragrance  shed. 
Like  morning  dews  on  Sion's  mount 

That  spread  their  silver  rays ; 
And  deck  with  gfema  the  verdant  pomp. 

Which  Hennon's  top  db^ys. 
To  such  the  Lord  of  life  and  love 

His  blessing  shall  extend : 
On  earth  a  life  of  joy  and  peace. 

And  lilb  that  ne'er  shall  end.  T. 


LECTURE  XXVI. 

THE  INTERMEDIATE  OE  MIXED  STYLE  OF  THE  HEBREW  OD& 

The  lyric  poetry  of  the  intermediate  or  mixed  style  consists  of  an  nnioa 
of  sweetness  snd  sublimity*— The  ninety-first  and  eighty-lirst  Ptsalms  ex- 
plained and  critically  ilhistrated— «Of  the  digressions  of  the  Hebrew  po-, 
etSy  also  of  Pindar  ;  not  upon  the  same  principle— A  criticism  upon  tlio 
serentyvaerenth  Psalro— The  nineteenth  Psalm  in  English  vcne. 

Uavikg  dismissed  the  subject  of  the  more  beauuful 
species  of  ode,  in  order  to  proceed  by  proper  stages  to 
what  I  deem  the  summit  of  excellenqe  and  sublimity  ia 
the  lyric  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  it  will  be  necessary  to. 
rest  a  while,  and  to  bestow  some  little  attention  tipoa 
that  middle  style  of  composition,  to  which  I  adverted  as 
ponstituting  one  of  the  grand  divisions  of  this  order  of 
poems,    lilts  again  may  be  considered  as  admitting  of 
a  subdivision,  as  including  both  those  Ijrric  compositions, 
in  which  sweetness  and  sublimity  are  so  uniformly  blend- 
ed, that  every  part  of  the  poem  may  be  said  to  partake 
equally  of  both ;  and  those,  in  which  these  qualities  sep* 
arately  occur  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  complexion  of 
the  poem  is  altogether  changeable  and  diversified.     Of 
each  species  I  shall  endeavour  to  produce  an  example 
or  two* 

The  subject  of  the  ninety-first  Psalm  is  the  security» 
the  success,  and  the  rewards  of  piety.  The  exordium 
exhibits  the  pious  man  placing  all  his  dependence  upoi^ 
Almighty  God : 

^  He  that  dwelleth  in  the  «ecret  place  of  the  Most  High  ; 


LicT.  36.  LYRIC  POETRY.  365 

M  Who  lodgeth  under  the  shadow  of  the  Omnipotent ; 

f<  Who  saitb  to  Jehovah»  thou  art  mj  hope  and  mj  fortress  ! 

<<  Mj  God»  in  whom  I  trust  :*'— i 

And  immediately  leaving  the  sentence  unfinished,  he 
apostrophizes  to  the  same  person,  whom  he  had  been 
describing  : 

^  He  indeed  shall  deliyer  thee 

<^  From  the  snare  of  the  fowler,  from  tbe  destroying^  pestilence/' 

The  imagery  that  follows  is  beautiful  and  diversified, 
and  at  the  same  time  uncommonly  solemn  and  sublime  t 

I  This  besutiAil  exordium  lus  l^n  uioit  egregiousljr  mistaken  by  the 
Bfasorttes,  «id  by  msny  commentstori  and  tranalators :  whose  errors  will 
be  most  effectually  demonstrated,  by  remoring  the  difficulties  of  which 
theycomplam.  Thus  the  ^on  is  in  Benom  as  well  as  nv^;  the  future  pibm 
also  has  the  force  of  a  participle,  by  the  ellipsis  of  nvM  i  of  which,  to  go  no 
further,  we  bare  tl|ree  examples  in  this  very  Psalm,  ver.  5  and  6  \  thus  also 
Symmachus,  who  has  translated  the  first  verse  in  this  ifuuuier  ; 
'<  He  dwelling  under  the  canopy  of  the  Bfost  High, 
**  liOdging  under  the  shadow  of  the  Mighty  One.^ 
Whence  it  is  plam,  that  he  did  not  take  the  verb  "idn  as  if  it  were  the  first 
person  of  the  fiitmre,  as  the  Masorites  haye  done ;  whence  principally  the 
error  has  orig^inated :   nor  indeed  has  he  compacted  into  one  nugatory  proposi- 
tion the  two  members  of  the  first  verse,  which  arefparallel  and  synonymous 
Then  in  rer.  3  an  ^lostrophe  vciy  easy  and  distinct  is  made  to  the  person 
to  whom  the  preceding  expressions  rdate :  where  it  is  also  to  be  remarked»  * 
that  the  particle  "O  is  not  causal  but  affirmative,  indeed  or  in  fact^  as  in 
Ps.  Ixxvii  13»  1  Sax.  xiv.  39,  and  44,  and  in  many  other  parts  of  Scripture. 
But  to  demonstrate  more  clearly  this  nuttter  by  example,  the  whole  form 
and  nature  of  this  exordium  is  perfectly  the  same  with  that  of  Ps.  cxxriii. 
which  hss  never  been  considered  as  involving  any  obscurity. 
**  Blessed  is  every  man  who  feareth  Jkhovas, 
'*  And  who  walketh  in  his  paths  : 
**  Thou,  indeed,  ^alt  eat  the  labour  of  thy  hands  : 
^  O  happy  art  thou)  aiid  well  ahail  it  be  with  thee.**^ 
But  if,  after  all,  any  reader  should  not  be  satisfied  with  the  apostrophe 
formed  ironi  the  abrupt  sentence,  he  may  take  the  verb  ion  for  the  third 
person  preterite,  as  the  Sts.  does.    Thus  the  first  verse  wdl  be  the  sub- 
ject, and  the  second  the  predicate  of  the  proposition.    To  this  explication 
I  am  not  averse,  and  it  is  certainly  much  better  than  that  which  is  now 
generally  received.    But  even  in  this  manner,  from  the  condensing  of  two 
iwrses  into  one  sentence,  there  will  arise  a  languor  in  the  sentiment,  and 
they  will  ibm  almost  one  and  the  same  proposition.     «I^Mor^t  A*a/0^ 


M6  LYRIC  POETRY.  U(9T.S«. 

«  With  his  feathers  will  he  cover  thee, 

^  And  under  his  wbgs  shall  thou  find  protection  : 

<«  His  truth  shall  be  thy  shield  and  thy  defencci. 

«(  Thou  shalt  not  fear  from  the  terror  by  night } 

^  From  the  arrow  that  flieth  by  day  ; 

(«  From  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness  ;^ 

«  From  the  destruction  that  wasteth  at  noon. 

«•  A  thousand  shall  fell  at  thy  side ; 

««  And  ten  tbousami  at  thy  right  hand : 

M  To  thee  it  shall  not  approach.*' 

How  exoeUent  also  are  the  succeeding  images»  the  guard 
of  angels,  the  treading  under  foot  the  fiercest  and  most 
formidable  animals :  and  afterwards,  that  sudden  but 
easy  and  elegant  change  of  the  persons?' 

a  See  a  note  on  the  History  of  the  Cal^h  VatbdE,  p.  34^,  and  940-    T.. 
s  I  appc^end  there  is  no  chsage  of  person  tiU  the  tith  Ttnei  te  the 
9th  Terse  I  tske  to  be  of  qoHie  a  diffeftnt  natuie. 

**  For  thou,  JsHoriB»  wt  my  hope : 

••  Very  high  hsst  thou  placed  thy  reiuge.** 
Hiere  are  many  mterpretationa  of  this  period»  which  are  diftivntlf  s|>» 
prored  by  different  persons.  One  of  these  is,  that  the  Arst  mtinber  eon- 
sists  of  an  address  from  the  believer  to  God,  and  the  second  of  a  rep^ 
from  the  prophet  to  the  belieyer :  which  is  extremely  harsh  and  improb»» 
hie,  although  the  phun  and  obrious  eonstruction  of  the  passage  frvows 
this  opinion.  Others,  among  which  are  the  old  UwnsUtors,  iuppose,  thaC 
in  the  second  line  there  is  no  change  of  persons  at  all,  but  that  Jmotab  is 
■till  spoken  of: 

**  Who  hast  placed  thy  dwelling  on  high  :* 
which  is  altogether  nothing.    Others,  in  fine,  to  avoid  these  absurdities, 
have  fallen  into  still  greater ;   for  they  give  quite  a  new  torn  to  the  sen* 
tence»  altering  the  construction  in  this  manner : 

**  For  thou,  JcHovAH,  who  art  my  hope^ 

*'  Hast  placed  thy  refuge  very  high  :** 
But  this  I  think  will  scarcely  be  endured  by  *  good  ear,  which  is  ever  so 
little  accustomed  to  the  Hebrew  idiom.    Tssooo»st  formerly  made  a  dif» 
frrent  attempt  upon  the  passage : 

"  There  is  wanting  to  the  conatroetkm  of  the  sentciiQe,  Taou  bast  sa», 
**  thmi  Lord  art  my  hope.  This  is  the  usual  idiom  of  the  prophetic  writ- 
**  ings,  and  especiaUy  of  the  Psalms." 

I  have  very  little  doubt  that  this  is  the  true  sense  of  the  passage.  I| 
however,  thU  ellipsis  be  unplessing  to  the  leader  (and  I  confiess  it  is  very 


LscT.  M.  LTRIC  POETKT.  36r 

«  Becmme  he  hath  loted  me,  thereforo  will  I  deliver  hia : 
M  I  will  exalt  hiiDi  for  he  hath  known  my  name." 

If  any  reader  wiU  carefully  weigh  and  conaider  the  iia« 
ture  and  dignity  of  this  imagery,  having  due  respect  at 
the  aame  time  to  the  principles  of  the  mystical  allegory, 
I  am  persuaded  he  will  agree  with  me,  that  something 
of  a  niystical  design  is  concealed  under  the  literal  mean- 
ing of  this  Psalm.  Without  a  question,  the  pious  per* 
son,^  the  king,  or  high-priest  perhaps,  who  in  the  literal 
sense  is  the  principal  character  of  the  poem,  is  meant 
in  reality  to  represent  some  greater  and  sublimer  per« 

hanh)  we  must,  I  believe,  at  Utt  hare  lecourie  to  the  correcti(»i  of  biahop 
Hai«k  one  of  the  ableat  of  critica ;  who  thinka,  that  for  rrrm  we  should  Kad 
^*iON.  It  ia  indeed  rather  a  bold  conjecture,  yet  not  improbable»  if  we 
consider  the  parallel  places,  Ps.  xrL  3,  (where  TTvan  seems  to  hare  been 
the  reading  followed  by  all  the  old  translators,  except  the  Chal.  **  and 
«*  also  occurs  in  three  MSS?*  K.)  Ps.  zxzl  15,  cxl.  7,  cxlit.  6.  But  what 
if  we  read  lOTlD,  with  only  the  change  of  a  single  letter  ?  "  For  thee  (that 
'*  is,  as  t9  thee  J  Jbbotah  is  thy  hope.^  This  correction  was  suggestcxl  to 
me  by  the  ingenious  Mr.  Mxbhicx,  who  has  lately  published  a  Tbaxsia- 
nov  or  TBI  Psalms  ihto  Ebslisb  vbbsb  ;  a  work  of  great  erudition,  of 
infinite  taate  and  elegance,  and  replete  with  all  the  choicest  beauties  of 
poetry.    Auihor't  JVWe. 

For  thou,  JiHeTAO,  sat  ray  hepe  i 

Very  high  haat  thou  placed  thy  hahttatkM. 
t  believe  there  is  no  occasion  ja  this  instance  to  practise  on  the  original. 
The  imagery  here  remotdy  alluded  to»  ia  placed  in  a  fuller  point  of  view 
by  Habakkuk,  chap.  ii.  ver.  9. 

*>  Woe  unto  hnn  who  coveteth  an  evil  oovetouaneaa  lor  his  house ; 

**  That  he  may  set  his  nest  on  high  i 

•*  That  he  may  be  delivered  from  the  power  of  eviL*' 

And  Obadiah,  chap.  L  ver.  3. 

*«  He  that  dweUeth  in  the  clifls  of  the  rock,  the  height  of  his  habitation, 

**  Hath  said  in  his  heart.  Who  shall  bring  me  down  to  the  ground  ? 

**  Though  thou  exalt  thyself  as  the  eagle, 

**  And  though  thou  set  thy  nest  among  the  stars, 

**  Thence  will  1  bring  thee  down»  saith  Jboovab.'*    S.  H. 

#  The  LXX.  Cbaiji.  Vuio.  Syb.  Abab.  JEtbiop.  prefix  the  name  of  David 
to  this  Psalm.  The  Jews  suppose  it  to  relate  to  the  Messiah.  See  also 
Matt.  iv.  6,  Lvut  iv.  10, 11.    «AMAAsr^t  Aote» 


368  LTRTC  FOETRT.  Lsct.  26. 

sonage.  But  leaving  this  part  of  the  subject  to  the 
investigation  of  the  divine,  I  submit  it  to  any  critic  of 
true  taste  and  discernment,  whether  the  thifd  ode  of 
the  fourth  book  of  Horace  (the  beauty  of  wluch  has 
been  justly  celebrated,  and  which  bears  a  great  resem- 
blance to  that  under  our  consideration)  is  not  greatly 
excelled  by  the  sacred  poet,  as  well  in  grace  and  ele- 
gance, as  in  force  and  dignity/ 

f  At  a  very  early  period  of  life  I  amufed  loytdf  with  trBDilating  aoiiie  of 
the  Odes  of  Horace  into  English  Terse.  The  ode  alladed  to  in  the  tezi 
wu  one  of  those  which  I  attempted.  I  subjoin  my  tranilaUon  on  this  oe- 
casion,  merely  because  I  thiiik  it  gives  the  sense  of  the  original  more  com- 
pletely than  Francis's  version,  and  the  English  reader  will  probably  wiak 
to  see  the  ode  which  is  brought  into  comparison  with  that  of  the  Pialntist. 


He,  on  whose  early  natal  hour 

Thou,  queen  of  verse !  hast  sweeUy  smil*d^ 
Breath'd  all  thy  fascinating  power. 

And  mark'd  him  for  thy  favourite  child  :• 

He  emulates  no  victor's  place. 
Nor  mixes  in  the  Isthmian  games ; 

Nor,  in  the  srduous  chariot  race, 
Th'  Achaian  trophies  anxious  claims. 

He  ne*er,  adom*d  with  conquering  bi^. 
And  the  proud  pomp  of  baneful  war. 

Shall  catch  the  vagrsnt  voice  of  praise. 
While  captive  kings  surround  his  car : 

But  where  the  fertile  Tiber  glides. 
To  secret  shades  shall  oft  retire  i 

And  there  shall  charm  the  l]st*ning  tides^ 
And  tune  the  soft  JEolian  lyxe. 

Thy  noblest  sons,  imperial  Rome ! 

Assign  to  me  the  laureate  crown; 
And  Envy  now  abash'd  snd  dumb. 

Nor  dares  to  speak,  nor  dares  to  frown. 

O  goddess  of  the  vocal  shell ! 

Whose  power  can  sway  both  esrth  and  sea. 
Can  the  mute  fishes  teach  t'  eicel 

The  dying  cygnef »  melody : 


L«CT.  S*.  tYRIC  POETRY.  S69 

The  eighty.first  Psalm  will  serv^as  another  example 
upon  this  occasion,  being  pervaded  by  an  exquisite 
union  of  sublimity  and  sweetness.  It  is  an  ode  com*- 
posed  for  the  feast  of  Trumpets  in  the  ^rst  new 
moon  of  the  civil  year.^  The  exordium  contains  an 
exhortation  to  celebrate  the  praises  of  the  Almighty 
with  music  and  song,  and  (as  is  frequent  in  these  pro- 
ductions of  the  Hebrews)  is  replete  with  animation  and 
joy  even  to  exultation : 

«  Sing  unto  God  our  strength ; 

^  A  song  of  triumph  to  the  God  ot  Jacob/' 

The  different  instruments  of  music  are  named,  as  is 
common  in  the  lyric  compositions  of  all  other  nations : 

^  Take  the  psaltery,  bring  hither  the  timbre]) 
<<  The  pleasant  harp,  with  the  lute." 

The  trumpet  is  particularly  alluded  to,  because  the  soU 
emn  use  of  it  on  their  great  festivals  was  prescribed  by 
the  Mosaic  law.  The  commemoration  of  the  giving 
of  the  law,  associated  with  the  sound  of  the  trumpet 
(which  was  the  signal  of  liberty)^  introduces,  in  a  man- 
ner spontaneously,  the  miseries  of  the  Egyptian  bon- 
dage,  the  recovery  of  their  freedom,  and  the  communi* 
cation  with  God  upon  mount  Sinai  (the  awfulness  of  ^ 
which  is  expressed  in  a  very  few  words^  ''  the  secret 
place  of  thunder*')  and  finally  the  contention  with  their 
Creator  at  the  waters  of  Meribah.  The  mention  of 
Meribah  introduces  another  idea,  namely,  the  ingrati- 
tude and  contumacy  of  the  Israelites,  who  appear  to 
have  been  ever  unmindful  of  the  favours  and  indulgence 

To  thee«  sweet  muse !  I  owe  this  fame» 
That  e'er  I  pleas'd  the  gift  is  thine ; 
That,  as  I  pass,  fond  crowds  exclaim — 
**  The  Roman  bard !  the  man  divine  !*•       T. 
•  See  BsxiAVD.  JtiHf,  Heh,  iv.  7. 
V  See  JLxT.  zxiii^  24^  Kvx.  ixix«  1,  sod  Lit.  xzt.  9«  10. 

47 


Sto  tTRIC  POETRY.  L»CY.  4«: 

of  their  Beavenly  Benefactor.  The  remainder  of  the 
ode,  therefore,  contains  an  affectionate  expostulation  oT 
God  wfth  his  people,  a  confirmation  of  his  former  prom- 
ises, and  a  ten(kr  complaint,  that  his  favourable  intentions 
towards  them  have  been  so  long  prevented  by  their  dis- 
obedience. Thus  the  object  and  end  of  this  poem  ap- 
pears to  b^  an  exhortation  to  obedience  from  the  coti- 
^ideration  of  the  paternal  love,  the  beneficence,  and  the 
promises  of  the  Deity  ;^  and  we  have  seed  with  ho# 
much  art,  elegance,  variety,  and  ingenuity,  tfeiis  is  ac- . 
complished.  In  order  to  complete  the  beauty  of  this 
Composition,  the  conclusion  is  replete  with  all  the  graces 
of  sentiment,,  imagery,  and  diction.  The  sudden  and 
frequent  change  of  persons  is  remarkable ;  but  it  is  by 
no  means  harsh  or  obscure.  Some  allowance  is  how- 
ever to  be  made  for  the  Hebrew  idiom,  as  well  as  for 
the  state  of  the  author's  mind  r  he  is  not  under  the  in- 
jRuence  of  an  but  of  nature ;  through  the  impetuosity 
of  passion,  therefore,  his  transitions  are  frequent  from 
figure  and  allusion  to  plain  language,  and  back  agaitt 
with  a  kind  of  desultory  inconstancy. 

In  the  last  Lecture  I  treated  in  general  of  the  dispo- 
sition and  arrangement  of  lyric  composition,  and  en- 
deavoured, it\  some  degree,  to  define  its  usual  sydime- 
try  and  outline.  But  Oft  abstruse  and  difficult  subjects^ 
example  is  of  more  avail  than  the  utmost  accuracy  of 
description.  To  him,  therefore,  who  wishes  to  form  a 
correct  idea  of  this  kind  of  poem,  I  will  venture  to  rec- 
ommend the  Psalm  which  we  have  just  examined ;  not 
doubting,  that  if  he  can  make  himstlf  master  of  its  gen- 
eral character,  genius,  and  arrangement,  he  will  feel  per- 
fectly satisfied  concerning  the  nature  and  form'  of  a  per- 
fect ode. 

In  both  these  specimensi  the  style  and  cadence  of  the 


t.KCT.  51$.  I^TIUC  POETUT  9ri 

whole  poem  flows  in  one  equal  and  wiiform  tenoor; 
jbut  there  are  others,  which  are  more  qh&ngeable  and 
diversified»  more  unequal  both  «n  style  and  sentiment. 
The^e»  although  they  oocasionalijr  incline  to  tlie  char* 
acter  of  sweetness»  and  occasionally  to  that  of  sublimi- 
ty,  may  nevertheless  (though  opon  a  different  principle) 
he  properly  classed  among  the  odes  of  this  intermediate 
s^le*  Such  are  those  which»  from  a  mild  and  gende 
exordium»  rise  gradually  to  subtinuty^  t>oth  in  the  sub- 
ject and  sentiments ;  such  also  are  chose»  which  com- 
mence in  a  mournful  strain»  and  iconclude  with  exulta- 
tion and  triumph.  Such»  in  fine»  are  all  those  in  which 
the  style  or  matter  is  in  any  respect  diversified  and  un- 
^uaL  This  inequality  of  style  ts  perfectly  consistent 
with  the  nature  of  lyric  composition ;  for  variety  is  one 
of  the  greatest  oraaoi^nts,  if  not  essentials»  of  the  ode. 
Since»  therefore»  for  the  sake  of  variety»  lyric  writers  in 
.particular  are  indulged  in  the  liberty  of  frequent  digres- 
sions ;  that  boldness  in  thus  diverging  from  the  sub« 
ject  is  not  only  excusable»  but  on  many  occasions  is 
really  worthy  of  commendation.  Possibly  a  brief  in- 
quiry into  the  nature  of  those  liberties  which  the  He« 
brew  poets  have  allowed  themselves  in  this  respect»  or 
jrather  into  the  general  method  and  principles  of  their 
lyric  compotttions»  will  not  be  thought  altogether  un- 
seasonable in  this  place. 

By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  lyric  poetry  of  the  He- 
brews» is  occupied  wholly  in  the  celebration  of  the 
power  and  goodness  of  Almighty  God»  in  extolling  his 
kindness  and  beneficence  to  his  chosen  people»  and  in 
imploring  his  assistance  and  favour  in  time  of  adversity: 
in  other  words»  the  usual  subjects  of  these  odes  are  so 
connected  with  eveiy  part  of  the  Sacred  History»  as  .to 
«fiord  ample  scope  for  those  digressions  which  are  most 


S7%  LYRIC  POETRY.  Lxct.M. 

pleasing,  and  most  congenial  tothisspeciesofcompositioD. 
Thus,  whcthefr  the  theme  be  gay  or  mournful ;  wheth- 
er the  events  which  they  celebrate  be  prosperous  or  ad- 
verse ;    whether  they  return  thanks  to  God  their  deliv- 
erer for  assistance  in  trouble,  or  with  the  humility  of 
suppliants  acknowledge  the  justice  of  the  divine  correc- 
tion ;  the  memory  of  former  times  spontaneously  occurs, 
sind  a  variety  of  incidents  and  circumstances,  of  times, 
of  seasons,  of  countries,  of  nations,  all  the  miracles  in 
Egypt,  in  the  wilderness,  in  Judea,  are  presented  to 
their  recollection :    and  all  these  so  naturally  connect 
with  the  subject,  that  whatever  of  ornament  is  dedaoed 
from  them,  so  fkr  from  appearing  foreign  to  it,  seems 
rather  an  essential  part  of  the  principal  matter.     It 
may,  therefore,  be  with  modesty  asserted  of  the  Hebrew 
ode,  that  from  the  nature  of  the  subjects,  which  it  uso- 
ally  embraces,  it  is  possessed  of  so  easy  an  access  to  some 
of  the  most  elegant  sources  of  poetical  imagery,  and  has 
consequently  so  many  opportunities  for  agreeable  di- 
grcbsion ;  that  with  unbounded  freedom  and  uncommon 
variety,  are  united  the  most  perfect    order,   and  the 
most  pleasing  uniformity. 

The  happy  boldness  of  Pindar  in  his  Agressions  is 
deservedly  celebrated ;  but  as  he  was  very  difierendj 
situated  from  those  poets,  who  are  at  present  under  our 
consideration,  so  the  nature  of  his  subject,  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  his  composition,  are  altogether  dtfierent  from 
theirs ;  and  a  different  reason  is  to  be  assigned  for  the 
libertits  which  he  assumed  in  his  lyric  productions. 
We  are  in  no  want  of  materials  to  enable  us  to  form  a 
perfect  judgement  of  the  genius  of  Pindar ;  there  arc 
about  forty  of  his  odes  remaining,  and  the  subject  of 
them  all  is  exactly  similar.  They  are  all  composed  in 
celebration  of  some  victorious  chief,  whose  praise  is, 


tBCT.  M.  LYRIC  POETRY.  37f 

heightened  and  iOustrated  by  the  circumstances  of  his 
birth,  ancestry,  manners,  or  country.  Since,  therefore, 
this  poet  was  professedly  the  herald  of  the  Olympic  con* 
querors,  unless  he  had  determined  to  assume  great  lib- 
erty  in  treating  of  those  topics,  and  even  on  some  occa- 
sions to  have  recourse  to  topics  very  foreign  to  the  prin* 
cipal  subject,  his  poems  must  have  been  little  bett^than 
a  stale  and  disgusting  repetition.  His  apology,  therefore, 
is  necessity,  and  on  this  ground  he  has  obtained  not  only 
pardcm  but  commendation ;  and  many  things,  which  in 
another  poet  could  neither  be  defended  nor  probably  en* 
dured,  in  Pindar  have  been  approved  and  extolled.  Lest 
I  should  seem  to  assert  rashly  on  this  occasion,  I  will 
explain  myself  by  an  example.  The  third  of  the  Pyth- 
ian odes  is  inscribed  to  Hiero,  at  that  time  labouring  un- 
der a  grievous  and  chronical  disease.  The  poet  taking 
advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  impart  a  degree  of  va- 
riety to  his  poem,  introduces  it  with  a  solemn  address, 
invoking  the  medical  aid  oi  Chiron  or  ^sculapius,  if  it 
be  possible  for  them  to  revisit  the  earth.  But  surely,  on 
such  an  occasion,  it  would  be  excusable  in  no  writer 
but  Pindar  to  expend  more  than  one  hundred  verses,  that 
is,  above  half  the  poem,  on  the  history  of  ^sculapius, 
Nor  indeed  could  we  easily  pardon  it  in  Pindar  himself, 
but  from  the  consideration  that  he  hdid  already  written 
an  ode  (the  fourth)  in*  praise  of  the  same  Hiero,  upon  a 
victory  obtained  in  the  Olympic  games.  But  we  are 
willing  to  excuse  the  boldness  of  a  poet,  who^  even  with 
a  degree  of  rash  impetuosity,  escapes  from  such  narrow 
limits  into  a  more  spacious  field.  It  is,  therefore  no  dis- 
commendation of  the  Hebrew  poets  to  say,  that  in  tbisi 
respect  they  are  materially  different  from  Pindar ;  nor 
does  it  detract  from  the  merit  of  Pindar  to  assert,  that,, 
from  the  more  favourable  circumstances  of  the  Hci 
t>rews,  their  lyric  poetry  is  more  genuine  and  perfect. 


ZU  LYRIC  POSTIUr,  UoT.S^ 

The  sevent^^seveotb  Psalm  will  aflbrd  some  iUustnu 
tion  of  what  has  been  remarked  concerning  the  nature 
Itnd  economy  of  the  Hebrew  ode.  This  Psalm  is  com* 
posed  in  what  I  call  the  intermediate  style»  and  is  of  that 
diversified  and  unequal  kind  which  ascends  from  a  cool 
$md  temperate  exordium  to  a  high  degree  of  sublimity. 
The  prophet,  oppressed  with  a  heavy  weight  of  affile» 
tion,  di^lays  the  extreme  dejection  and  perturbation  of 
his  soul,  and  most  elegandy  and  pathetically  describes 
the  conflicts  and  internal  contests  to  which  he  ifi  sub» 
jrcted,  before  he  is  enabled  to  rise  from  the  depths  of 
woe  to  any  degree  of  hope  or  confidence.  In  the  char- 
acter of  a  suppliant  he  first  pours  forth  his  earnest  pray- 
ers to  the  God  of  his  hope : 

«« I  lifted  up  my  voice  unto  God  and  cried ; 

^  I  lifted  up  toy  Toice  unto  God,  tbat  be  should  hear  me." 

But  even  prayers  afford  him  no  sufficient  oonsolation. 
He  next  endeavours  to  mitigate  his  sorrow  by  the  re« 
membrance  of  former  times  i  but  this,  on  the  contrary, 
only  seems  to  exaggerate  his  su&rings,  by  the  com* 
parison  of  his  present  adversity  with  his  former  happL* 
ness,  and  extorts  from  him  the  following  pathetic  ex« 
postulation : 

<•  Will  the  Lord  reject  me  for  ever  ? 

**  And  wUl  be  reconciled  no  more  i 

*«  It  his  mercjr  eternallf  ceaied ; 

*^  Doih  his  promise  fail  from  generation  to  geoeratioii  ? 

M  HatU  God  forgotten  to  be  merciful  ? 

^  Or  hath  he  in  anger  shut  up  his  pity  i" 

Again»  recollecting  the  nature  of  the  divine  dispensations 
in  chastising  man»  **  the  change  of  the  right*hand  of  the 
**  Most  High ;"  in  other  words»  the  diffi:rent  methods 
by  which  the  Almighty  seeks  the  salvation  of  his  peo* 
pie,  appearing  frequently  to  frown  upon  and  persecute 


lAcT.  »i  LYRIC  POETRY.  ifi 

tfiose  ^  in  i^hom  he  ddighteth  :*'  reconsideiing  alfio  the 
vast  series  of  mercies  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  his 
diosen  people ;  the  miracles  which  he  had  wrought  in 
Aeir  bvour,  in  a  word,  die  goodness,  the  holiness,  the 
power  of  the  great  Ruler  of  the  universe ;  with  all  th^ 
ardour  of  gratitude  and  affection,  he  bursts  forth  into  a 
strain  of  praise  and  exultation.  In  this  passage  we  are 
at  a  loss  which  to  admire  most,  the  ease  and  grace  with 
which  the  digression  b  made,  the  choice  of  the  incidents, 
the  magnificence  of  the  imagery,  or  the  force  and  ele- 
gance of  the  diction. 

M  Thy  way,  O  God,  is  in  holiness ; 
<<  What  God  is  groat  as  our  God  ? 
^  Thou  art  the  God  that  doest  wonders  ; 
«  Thou  hast  made  known  thy  strength  among  the  nations  : 
**  With  thy  arm  hast  thou  redeemed  thy  people, 
<<  The  sons  of  Jacob  and  Joseph. 
^  The  waters  saw  thee,  O  God  ! 
^  The  waters  saw  tbee,  and  trembled ; 
,  M  The  depths  also  were  troubled. 
^  The  clouds  overflowed  with  water  i 
M  The  skies  sent  forth  thunder ; 
«  Thine  arrows  also  went  abroad  ; 
«  The  voice  of  thy  thunder  was  in  the  atmosphoM  ; 
^  Thy  lightnings  enlightened  the  world, 
«  The  earth  trembled,  and  was  disturbed/' 

The  other  example,  to  which  I  shall  refer  you  on  this 
occasion,  is  composed  upon  quite  a  di&rent  plan ;-  for 
it  declines  gradually  from  an  exordium  uncommonly 
splendid  and  sublime,  to  a  gentler  and  more  moderate 
strain,  to  the  softest  expressions  of  piety  and  devotion. 
The  whde  composition  abounds  with  great  variety  of 
both  sentiment  and  imagery.  You  will,  from  these, 
circumstances,  almost  conjecture  that  I  am  alluding  to 
tiie  nineteenth  Psalm.  The  glory  of  God  is  demon- 
strated  in  his  vrorks  both  of  nature  and  providence. 


LECTURE  XXVII. 

OF  THE  8UBUME  STTUS  OF  THE  HEBREW  On£. 

The  third  species  of  the  Hebrew  Ode,  the  characteristic  of  which  is  sub- 
limity—This sublimity  results  from  three  sources— From  the  general  fisnn 
and  arrangem^t  of  the  poem  exemplified  in  the  1th  and  xxiTth  Psalm— 
From  the  greatness  of  Uie  sentiments  and  the  force  of  the  languag&^ 
The  Ode  of  Moses  on  passing  the  Red  Sea  explained  and  illustrated^ 
The  brevity  of  the  Hebrew  style— The  xxixth  Psalm  in  English  Terse. 

iSuBLiMiTY  was  mentioned  as  the  characteristic  of  a 
third  species  of  the  Hebrew  ode.  But  having  already 
treated  very  copiously  of  the  sublime  in  general,  both 
as  the  effect  of  sentiment  and  expression,  our  present 
investigation  must  be  confined  to  that  which  is  pecu- 
liar to  this  species  of  poetry.  Now  the  sublimity  of 
lyric  compositions  results  either  from  the  plan,  the  or- 
der and  arrangement  of  the  poem ;  or  from  those  com- 
mon sources  which  I  formerly  specified,  the  sentiments 
and  the  style ;  or,  in  some  cases,  from  an  union  of  all, 
when  an  aggregate  perfection  is  produced  firom  the  beau- 
ty of  the  arrangement,  the  dignity  of  the  sentiments,  and 
Uie  splendour  of  the  diction.  I  shall  endeavour  to  ex- 
hibit a  few  examples  in  each  kind ;  and  indeed  this  sub- 
ject is  every  way  deserving  our  attention,  since  it  relates 
to  what  may  be  esteemed  the  perfection  of  the  Hebrew 
poetry,  for  its  chief  commendation  is  sublimity,  and  its 
sublimest  species  is  the  ode. 

Let  us  therefore  consider  in  the  first  place  what  dc« 
gree  of  sublimity  the  mere  form  and  disposition  of  a 


LmcT.  27.  LYRIC  POETRY.  379 

lyric  poem  can  impart  to  a  subject  not  in  itself  sublime. 
We  have  an  example  of  this  in  the  fiftieth  Psalm  ;  the 
subject  of  which  is  of  the  didactic  kind,  and  belongs  to 
the  moral  part  of  theology.  It  is  at  first  serious  and 
practical,  with  very  litde  of  sublimity  or  splendour :  it 
sets  forth,  that  the  divine  favour  is  not  to  be  conciliated 
by  sacrifices,  or  by  any  of  the  external  rites  and  services 
of  religion,  but  rather  by  sincere  piety,  and  by  the  de- 
vout effusions  of  a  grateful  heart :  and  yet,  that  even 
these  will  not  be  accepted  without  the  strictest  attention 
to  justice,  and  every  practical  virtue.  It  consists  there- 
fore  of  two  parts :  in  the  first  the  devout,  but  ignorant 
and  superstitious  worshipper  is  reproved ;  and  in  the 
second  the  hypocritical  pretender  to  virtue  and  religion. 
Each  part  of  the  subject,  if  we  regard  the  imagery  and 
the  diction  only,  is  treated  rather  with  variety  and  ele- 
gance, than  with  sublimity ;  but  if  the  general  effect,  if 
the  plot  and  machinery  of  the  whole  be  considered, 
scarcely  any  thing  can  appear  more  truly  magnificent. 
The  great  Author  of  nature,  by  a  solemn  decree,  con- 
vokes the  whole  human  race,  to  be  witness  of  the  judge- 
ment  which  he  is  about  to  execute  upon  his  people ; 
the  august  tribunal  is  established  in  Sion  : 

«  Jehovah,  God  of  gods, 

*^  HaU)  spoken,  and  hath  summoned  the  earth, 

**  From  the  rising  to  the  setting  of  the  sun : 

<<  From  Sien,  from  the  perfection  of  beauty,  God  baUi  sbined." 

The  majesty  of  God  is  depicted  by  imagery  assumed 
from  the  descent  upon  mount  Sinai,  which,  as  I  for- 
merly  observed,  is  one  of  the  common-places  that  sup- 
ply  ornaments  of  this  kind : 

<<  Our  God  shall  come,  and  shall  not  be  silent ; 

^  A  fire  shall  devour  before  him, 

^'  And  a  mighty  whirlwind  shall  surround  him." 


380  LYkiC  POETRY.  L»ct.  97. 

The  heavens  and  the  earth  are  invoked  as  witnesses, 
which  is  a  pompous  form  of  expression  common  with 
the  Hebrew  writers :' 

<<  He  shall  call  the  heavens  from  on  high ; 

«<  And  the  earth  to  the  judgement  of  his  people." 

At  length  the  Almighty  b  personally  introduced  pro- 
nouncing his  sentence,  which  constitutes  the  remainder 
of  the  ode ;  and  the  admirable  sublimity  and  splendour 
bf  the  exordium  is  continued  through  the  whole.  There 
is  in  Horace  an  ode  upon  a  similar  subject/  and  it  i^ 
not  enough  to  say,  that  he  has  treated  it  in  his  usual 
manner,  with  elegance  and  variety,  for  he  has  done  more 
than  could  be  expected  from  a  person  unenlightened  by 
divine  truth,  he  has  treated  it  with  piety  and  solemnity^ 
But  that  high  degree  of  sublimity,  to  which  the  Psalm- 
ist rises  upon  such  occasions,  is  only  to  be  attained  by 
the  Hebrew  Muse ;  for  it  is  a  truth  universally  ac- 
knowledged, that  no  religion  whatever,  no  poetic  histo- 
ry is  provided  with  a  store  of  imagery  so  striking  and 
so  magnificent,  so  capable  of  embellishing  a  scene, 
which  may  be  justly  accounted  the  most  sublime  that 
the  human  imagination  is  able  to  comprehend. 

The  next  example,  which  I  shall  produce,  will  be 
found  in  some  measure  different  from  the  former,  inas- 
much as  the  subject  itself  is  possessed  of  the  highest 
dignity  and  splendour,  though  still  no  inconsiderable 
part  of  the  sublimity  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  general 
plan  and  arrangement  of  the  poem.  The  induction  of 
the  ark  of  God  to  mount  Sion  by  David,  gave  occasion 
to  the  twenty-fourth  Psalm.*  The  removal  of  the  ark 
was  celebrated  in  a  great  assembly  of  the  people,  and 
with  suitable  splendour  during  every  part  of  the  cere- 

I  Compare  Dkut.  xsxii.  1.    Isai.  1.  2. 

'  See  HoBAT.  Lib.  iii.  Od.  xxiii.  3  See  2  Sax.  yi.    1  Chkost.  xy.. 


LECTi  W.  LYttlC  iPbETftT.  3S1 

mony.  The  Levites  led  thii  procession,  ateoihpanied 
by  a  great  variety  of  Vocal  and  instrumental  music ;  and 
this  ode  appears  to  have  been  sung  to  the  people  when 
they  arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  mountain.  The  ex-» 
ordium  is  expressive  of  the  supreme  and  infinite  do- 
minion of  God,  arising  from  the  right  of  creation ; 

*<  The  earth  is  Jehovah's  and  the  fulness  thereof; 

<<  The  world  and  all  that  inhabit  therein. 

«  For  upon  the  seas  hath  he  founded  it, 

«  And  upon  the  floods  hath  he  e^tkblished  it.*' 

How  astonishing  the  favour  and  condescension!  how 
extraordinary  the  testimony  of  his  love,  when  he  select- 
ed from  his  infinitie  dominion  a  peculiar  seat,  dnd  a  peo- 
ple for  himself !  What  a  copious  return  of  gratitude,  of 
holiness,  of  righteousness,  and  of  human  virtues,  does 
such  an  obligation  demand !  **  Behold,'*  says  Moses, 
/addressing  the  Israelites,  **  The  heaven,  and  the  heaven 
<*  of  heavens,  is  Jehovah's,  thy  God,  the  earth  also, 
^*  and  all  that  it  containeth.  Only  he  had  a  delight  in 
<*  thy  fathers  to  love  them,  and  their  posterity  after 
^*  them,  and  he  chose  you  above  all  people  as  it  is  thia 
"  day.'**  Such  is  evidently  the  reasoning  of  David  in 
the  following  passage,  though  the  chain  of  argument  is 
not  quite  so  directly  displayed : 

<<  Who  shall  ascend  unto  the  mountain  of  Jehovah  ; 

<<  And  who  shall  stand  in  the  seat  of  his  holiness  ? 

"  He  whose  hands  are  innocent,  and  whose  heart  is  pure : 

<«  Who  hath  not  put  his  trust  in  vanity/ 

4  DxuT.  X.  14—16. 

'  nvn  XBO,  this  phrase  denotes  confidence,  hope,  desire.  See  Ps.  zxv.  1. 
Ixxxvi.  4.  cxllii.  8,  aIso  Dxut.  xxiv.  1^.  Jxr.  xxii.  27.  Ezbk.  xxiv.  25. 
^:w,  an  idol :  iiwp*  mwb,  "  bum  incense  to  vain  gods."    Jtn.  xviii.  15. 

'*  Who  have  not  sworn  falsely  by  their  life."  I  offer  this  translation  'v\ 
preference  to  our  author's,  •*  Who  hath  not  put  his  trust  in  vanity,  or  in 
yain  gods,"  on  the  authority  of  M.  Michaslis  ;  who  justly  observes,  thati 
the  translation  of  the  words  now  ktheva  is  to  perjure  orfirtwear,  and  not 


382  LYftIC  POETRY.  Lbct.ST. 

«  Nor  sworn  for  the  purpose  of  deceit. 

«  He  shall  receive  a  blessing  from  Jehovah, 

«  And  righteousness  from  the  God  of  his  salvation. 

'<  This  is  the  generation  that  seeketh  him ; 

«  That  seeketh  the  face  of  the  God  of  Jaeob.'^« 

Thus  far  is  expressive,  on  the  one  hand,  of  the  infinite 
goodness  and  condescension  of  God  to  the  children  of 
Israel ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  of  their  indispensiUe  ob- 
ligation to  pietf  and  virtue ;  since  he  had  deigned  to 
make  their  nation  the  peculiar  seat  of  his  miraculous 
providence,  and  to  honour  them  with  his  actual  presence. 
We  may  now  conceive  the  procession  to  have  arrived  at 
the  gates  of  the  tabernacle.  While  the  ark  is  brought 
in,  the  Levites,  divided  into  two  choirs,  sing  alternately 
the  remainder  of  the  Psalm.  Indeed,  it  is  not  impossi- 
ble  that  this  mode  of  singing  was  pursued  through  every 
part  of  the  ode ;  but  towards  the  conclusion  the  fact  will 
not  ^dmit  of  a  doubt.     On  the  whole,  whether  we  regard 

to  nvear  byfaUe  godt,  as  b  evident  from  EtOD.  xx.  7«  and  it  is  properly 
applied  to  the  naming'  in  a  lie  the  name  of  JsiMTABy  their  vmn  Ufe,  or  the 
9aered  eiticB^  (Pa.  cxxx.  20,}  or  any  other  thin^  which  waa  accounted  «^ 
cred  or  dear  to  them^    T. 

•  It  ought  to  be  read  either  with  the  LXX.  Vui.©.  Akab.  jEtbiop. 
ypT  Vie  *3B ;  or  with  the  Str.  apr  bM  T»f  which  is  much  the  same.  ••  It 
«  is  npT  ^^VM  T3>  in  *  MS.  in  possession  of  Ebbbk  EscasirBAcB»  N«niii* 
«*  berg.  See  Nablxbi  Du9ertat.  de  Ebjcbbi  Codicibw  MStii.  1748."  K. 
The  holy  ark,  and  the  ihecfanah  which  remained  upon  it,  the  symbol  of  the 
divine  presence,  is  called  the /ace  of  God.'  and  to  seek  the  face  of  God,  is 
to  appear  before  the  ark,  to  worship  at  the  sanctnaiy  of  God ;  which  wa* 
required  of  the  Israelites  thrice  a  year.  See  3  Sax.  xxL  1.  2  Cbxob.  tU. 
14.    Ps.  xxvii.  8.    ExoD.  xxiii,  17. 

'•  Seek  Jebotab  and  bis  strength, 
••  Seek  his  face  for  ever.  Psalm  cv.  4. 

Where  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  117  (his  strength)  is  parallel  and  synony- 
mous to  'MB  (hb  face)  and  signifies  the  ari^  of  God :  compare  Psalm  Ixxviii.  1 
61,  cxxxii.  8.  They  but  trifle,  who  endeavour  to  extort  any  tiling  reasona- 
ble from  the  common  reading.  Further,  I  am  of  opinion,  that  in  ver.  ,91h 
the  verb  iKvam  in  Mphal  ought  to  be  repeated :  so  all  the  old  translators 
seem  to  have  read  it.        Author* i  »Vete. 


Lbct.  ar.  LYRIC  POETRY.  3«S 

the  subject»  the  imagery,  or  style  of  this  composition,  it 
will  be  found  to  possess  a  certain  simple  and  unaffected 
(and  therefore  admirable)  sublimity 

**  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates  ! 

^  And  be  ye  lift/ye  everlasting  doors  l^ 

•«  And  the  King  of  Glory  shall  enter. 

^  Who  is  this  King  of  Glory  I 

^  Jkr»vah  mighty  and  poverfiil, 

^  JsaovAK  powerful  in  war. 

<<  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates ; 

«  And  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors  ! 

«  And  the  King  of  Glory  shall  enter, 

<<  Who  ia  this  King  of  Glory  ? 

<<  JsHovAK  of  hosu»  he  is  the  Kiag  of  Glory.*' 

You  will  easily  perceive,  that  the  beauty  ^d  sublim- 
ity  observable  in  this  Psalm  are  of  such  a  peculiar  kind 
as  to  be  perfectly  adapted  to  the  subject  and  the  occa- 
sion, and  to  that  particular  solemnity  for  which  it  was 
composed.  You  will  perceive  too,  that  unless  we  have 
some  respect  to  these  points,  the  principal  force  and  ele- 
gance will  be  lost ;  and  even  the  propriety  of  die  scnti- 
nents,  the  splendour  of  the  diction,  the  beauty  and  or- 
der  of  the  arrangement,  will  be  almost  totally  obscured. 
If  such  be  the  state  of  the  case  in  this  single  instance,  it 
is  surely  not  unreasonable  to  conclude,  that  it  is  not  the 
only  one  which  stands  in  need  of  the  light  of  history  to 
cast  a  splendour  on  its  beauties.  It  b  surely  not  unreas- 
onable to  infer,  that  much  of  the  harmony,  propriety, 
and  elegance  of  the  sacred  poetry  must  pass  unperceived 
by  us,  who  can  only  form  distant  conjectures  of  the 
general  design,  but  are  totally  ignorant  of  the  particular 

7  I  would  prefer  tfc  ancienigate»,  that  is,  long  mnce  ennobled,  by  the  wor. 
ship  of  the  true  God.  Thus  Jacob  and  Moses  speak  of  the  ondM  nmm. 
laww,  the  everltutmg  hUU,  8tc.  The  meaning  of  the  verse  is, ««  The  gates, 
••  which  were  mean  and  contracted  before,  and  unworthy  of  Jibota^ 
"  should  now  be  extended  and  enlarged.'*    M. 


^H  tYftlC  POETRt-  UtT.  tf. 

application,*  |  Thus  of  necessity  much  of  the  delicacy  of 
sentiment^  much  of  the  felicity  of  allu^on,  and  the  force 

■  I  wish  most  earnestly,  that  this  obserration  of  our  author  might  be 
properly  attended  to  by  the  commentators  upon  the  Psalms :  since  wly>ever 
neglects  it  must  of  necessity  fall  into  very  gross  errors.    There  are  some 
who»  attempting  to  explain  the  Psalms  from  the  historical  parts  of  Scrip- 
ture, act  as  if  every  occurrence  were  kno^n  to  them,  and  as  if  nothing  had 
happened  during  the  reign  of  DavH  which  was  not  committed  to  writing. 
This,  however»  considering  the-eztieflie  hxeTity  of  the  Sacasd  Histoxy,  and 
the  number  and  magnitude  of  the  £u^  which  it  rebtes»  qui^t  of  coofae  be 
very  far  from  the  truth.    The  causes  and  motives  of  many  wars  are  sot  at 
all  adverted  to,  the  battles  that  are  related  are  few,  and  those  the  principal 
"Who  can  doubt,  though  ever  so  unexperienced  in  military  affairs,  thatmny 
things  occurred,  which  are  not  mentioned,  between  the  desertion  of  Jerusa* 
lem  by  David,  and  that  famous  battle,  which  extinguished  the  rebellion  of 
Absalom  ?  The  camp  must  have  been  frequently  removed,  as  circumstances 
varied,  to  places  of  greater  safety  »  much  trouble  must  have  been  bed  in 
collecting  the  veteran  soldiers  from  different  posts,  and  not  a  few  battles 
tnd  skirmishes  must  have  occurred,  before  the  exiled  king  could  so  far 
presume  upon  the  strength  and  increase  of  his  army  as  to  quit  liie  moun* 
tains,  and  try  the  open  field.    This  last  battle  being  fought  on  this  side 
Jordan,  in  the  forest  of  Ephraim,  is  it  not  natural  to  suppose,  that  some- 
thing  must  have  occorretl  to  oomp^  Absalom,  whose  cainp  was  beyond 
Jordan,  to  return  into  Palestine,  properly  so  called  :  possibly  the  preserva- 
tion of  the>oyaI  city  f    Or  is  it  possible  to  compare  the  history  of  2  Sax* 
viiL  13,  with  Psaijc  Ix.  and  not  to  perceive,  that  some  unfortunate  events 
must  have  haj^ned  previous  to  the  victories  over  the  Syrians  and  I^ume- 
ans,  and  that  affairs  must  have  been  unhappily  situated  in  Palestine  itself; 
that  even  the  royal  city  must  have  been  in  danger ;  since  the  Idumeitos  pen- 
etrated even  so  far  as  tlie  valley  of  Salt^  which  is  scarcely  distant  one  day's 
journey.    If  all  these  things  be  omitted ;  if,  moreover,  in  the  book  of  Sam* 
ucl  no  sufficiently  express  mention  is  made  of  the  Assyrians,  with  whoa 
David  certainly  waged  war,  Ps.  IxxxiiL  9,  why  should  we  not  suppose  that 
many  lesser  fa(cts  are  omitted  in  the  history,  to  which  however  a  poet 
miglit  allude»  as  natural  and  proper  matter  of  amplification  ?  But  toretiuii 
to  the  point  I  set  out  from,  those  who  will  not  allow  themselves  to  be  ig* 
norant  of  a  great  part  of  the  Jewish  history,  will  be  apt  to  explain  more  of 
the  Psalms  upon  the  same  principle,  and  as  relating  to  the  same  facts^  than 
they  ought :   whence  the  poetry  will  appear  tame  and  languid,  abounding' 
in  words,  but  with  little  variety  of  description  or  sentiment 

There  are  commentators  of  another  class,  who  take  inexcusable  liberties 
of  invention,  and  instead  of  resorting  to  the  records  of  the  ancients,  endeav* 
our  to  supply  facts  from  their  own  ingenuity  :  in  which  way  some  of  the 
biographers  of  David  have  greatly  indulged  themselves,  and  puticularly 
bxLAiTT.    For  example,  in  the  seventh  chap,  of  the  3d  vol.  he  takes  it  for 


UcT.n.  LYRIC  POETRY.  ns 

of  expression,  mu^,  by  the  hand  of  timei  be  cast  into 
shade ;  or  rather  I  should  say,  totally  suppressed  and 
extinguished.  The  attentive  reader  will,  indeed,  fre- 
quently feel  a  want  of  information,  concerning  the  au* 
thor,  the  age,  and  the  occasion  of  a  poem ;  stiU  more 
frequently  will  he  find  occasion  to  lament  his  own  ig- 
norance with  respect  to  many  facts  and  circumstances 
closely  connected  with  the  principal  subject,  and  on 
which,  perhaps,  its  most  striking  ornaments  depend. 
This  we  experience  in  some  degree  in  the  admirable 
poem  of  Deborah ;  and  this  I  seem  to  experience  in  the 
sixty-eighth  Psalm,  though  it  appears  to  have  some 
affinity  with  the  subject  of  that  which  we  have  just  ex- 
amined, since  it  adopts  in  the  place  of  an  exordium, 
that  well-known  form*  of  expression  which  viras  com- 
monly made  use  of  cm  the  removal  of  the  ark  :^ 

<<  Let  God  arise ;  let  hiB  enemies  be  scattered  ; 

<<  And  let  those  that  hate  him  flee  from  his  presence/' 

But  almost  every  part  of  this  most  noble  poem  is  in- 
volved in  an  impenetrable  darkness.  It  would  otherwise 
have  afforded  a  singular  example  of  the  true  sublime ; 
the  scattered  rays  of  which,  breaking  forth  with  difficul- 

grantedy  from  Pt.  xxxtUL  and  zli.  that  at  the  time  when  Absalom  Ibnned 
^e  rebellion,  Bayid  was  ill  of  the  small-poz  (a  disease  which  we  cannot 
pretend  to  assert  from  any  historical  proof  to  have  been  known  at  that  pe» 
riod,  and  fitnn  which  the  kin|f  at  his  time  of  life  could  scarcely  have  re^ 
covered)  and  to  i^ew  that  nothing  could  exceed  his  rashness  in  inventing; 
he  adds,  that  by  means  of  the  disease  he  lost  the  use  of  his  rig^t  eye  for 


Others  hawe  reeourse  to  mystical  interpretations,  or  those  historical  paay 
sages  which  they  do  not  understand  they  convert  into  prophecies :  into 
none  of  these  errors  would  mankind  have  fallen,  but  through  the  persuar 
sion,  that  the  whole  history  of  the  Jews  was  minutely  detailed  to  them  t 
and  that  there  were  no  circumstances  with  which  they  were  unacquainted» 

t  Compare  Nux.  x.  35. 

49 


385  LYRIC  POETRY.  L«eT.  It. 

tjr  through  the  thick  clouds  tihat  surround  itf  we  yet  be» 
hold  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  and  pleasure.'^ 

The  most  perfect  example  that  I  know  of  the  other 
species  of  the  sublime  ode,  which  I  pointed  out  (that  I 
mean  which  possesses  a  sublimity  dependant  wholly 
upon  the  greatness  of  the  conceptions,  and  the  dignity 
of  the  language,  without  any  pecuUar  excellence  in  the 
form  and  arrangement)  is  the  thank^ving  ode  of 
Moses,  composed  after  passing  the  Red  Sea."  Through 
every  part  of  this  poem  the  n>ost  perfect  plainness  and 
simplicity  is  maintained;  there  is  nothing  artificial, 
nothing  laboured,  either  in  respect  to  mediod  or  in- 
vention. Every  part  of  it  breathes  the  spirit  of  nature 
and  of  passion :  joy,  admiration,  and  love,  united  with 
piety  and  devotion,  burst  forth  spontaneously  in  their 
native  colours.  A  miracle  of  the  most  interesting  na- 
ture to  the  Israelites  is  displayed.  The  sea  dividies, 
and  the  waters  are  raised  into  vast  heaps  on  either  side, 
while  they  j^ass  over ;  but  their  enemies  in  attempting 
to  pursue,  are  overwhelmed  by  the  reflux  of  the  waves. 
The&e  circumstances  are  all  expressed  in  language  suit» 
able  to  the  emotions  which  they  produced,  abrupt,  fer- 
vid, concise,  animated,  with  a  frequent  repetition  of  the 
same  sentiments : 

>«  I  will  sing  to  JsBovAH,  for  he  is  veiy  highly  exalted ; 
««  TiiC  horse  sod  the  rider  he  hath  overwhelmed  in  the  sea." 

This  constitutes  the  proem  of  the  ode,  and  is  also  re« 
peated  occasionally  by  the  female  part  of  the  band  in 
the  manner  of  a  modem  chorus,  beii^  briefly  expres- 

10  Havuig  profesacd  above,  that  I  admired  not  so  much  the  sublimity  ai 
the  sweetness  of  Duvid's  Ivric  poetry,  I  think  it  my  duty  to  make  an  ex- 
ception in  favour  of  this  Psalm,  than  which  I  do  not  recollect  any  thing 
mure  sublime  in  the  whole  book  of  Psalint.    M. 

11  Exoo.  XV. 


LscT.ari  LYRIC  POETRY.  3«r 

sivc  of  the  general  subject.    The  same  idea,  however» 

occurs  in  several  parts  of  the  poem,  with  considerable 

variation  in  the  language  and  figures : 

<<  The  chariou  of  Pharoah  and  his  forces  be  cast  into  the  sea ; 

«  And  his  chosen  leaders  were  drowned  in  ihe  Red  Sea. 

<<  The  depths  have  covered  them ; 

^  They  went  down  into  the  abyss  as  a  stone.** 

And  again : 

<(  The  enemy  said,  I  will  pursue,  I  will  overtake  ; 

^  I  will  divide  the  spoil,  my  soul  shall  be  satisfied  ;i' 

*^  I  will  draw  the  sword,  my  hand  shaU  destroy  them. 

«^  Thou  didst  blow  with  thy  breath  ;  the  sea  covered  them  r 

«  They  sunk  like  lead  in  the  great  waters.*' 

Nor  do  even  these  repetitions  satisfy  the  author : 

<<  Who  b  like  unto  di^e  atnong  the  gods,  O  Jehovah  i 

M  Who  is  like  unto  thee,  glorious  in  sanctity  1 

u  Fearful  in  praises»  performing  miracles  \ 

^  Thou  estendest  thy  right-hand»  the  earth  swallowed  them ; 

In  these  examples  is  displayed  all  the  genuine  fofce  of 
nature  and  passion,  which  the  efforts  of  art  will  emulate 
in  vain.  Here  we  behold  the  passions  struggling  for 
vent,  labouring  with  a  copiousness  of  thought  and  a 
poverty  of  expressioui  and  on  that  very  account  the  more 
expressly  displayed.  To  take  a  strict  account  of  the 
sublimity  of  this  ode,  would  be  to  repeat  the  whole.  I 
will  only  remark  one  quality,  which  is  indeed  congenial 
to  all  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  but  in  this  poem  is 
more  than  usually  predominant,  I  mean  that  brevity  of 
diction  which  is  so  conducive  to  sublimity  of  style. 
Diffuse  and  exubeitoit  expression  generally  detracts  firom 
the  force  of  the  sentiment ;  as  in  the  human  body,  ex- 
cessive corpulency  is  generally  inconsistent  with  health 
and  vigour.    The  Hebrews,  if  we  contemplate  any  of 

u  **  This  is  explained  by  one  ef  the  Rabbinical  writers,  h  -mil  be  fitted 
frvm  them  /  that  is»  says  anolhery  hy  taking  their  wealth  or  eubetance/*    H, 


3BB  LYRIC  POETRY.  Lsot.ST. 

their  compositions  as  a  whole,  may  be  deemed  full  and 
copious ;  but  if  we  consider  only  the  constituent  parts  of 
any  production,  they  will  be  found  sparing  in  words, 
concise  and  energetic.  They  amplify  by  diversifying, 
by  repeating,  and  sometimes  by  adding  to  the  subject; 
therefore  it  happens,  that  it  is  frequently,  .on  the  whole,, 
treated  rather  diffusely ;  but  still  every  particular  senr 
tence  is  concise  and  nervous  in  itself.  Thus  it  happensi 
in  general,  that  neither  copiousness  nor  vigour  is  want- 
ing. This  brevity  of  style  is  in  some  measure  to  be  at-? 
tributed  to  the  genius  of  the  language,  and  in  some 
measure  to  the  nature  of  the  Hebrew  verse.  The  most 
literal  versions  therefore  commonly  fail  in  this  respect, 
and  consequendy  still  less  is  to  be  expected  from  any 
poetical  translations  or  imitations  whatever. 

Most  of  those  qualities  and  perfections,  which  have 
been  the  subject  of  this  disquisition,  will  be  found  in  a 
very  high  degree  in  the  twenty-ninth  Psalm.  The  su- 
preme dominion  of  God,  and  the  awfulness  of  his  power, 
are  demonstrated  from  the  tremendous  noise,  and  the 
astonishing^orce  of  the  thunder,  which  the  Hebrews,  by 
a  bold  but  very  apt  figure,  denominate  "  the  voice  of 
**  the  Most  High."  It  is  enough  to  say  of  it,  that  the 
sublimity  of  the  matter  is  perfectly  equalled  by  the  unn 
affected  energy  of  the  style. 

P8ALM    XXIX. 

^  Sing,  ye  sons  of  might,  O  sing 
"  Praise  to  heaven's  eternal  King  ; 
<<  Power  and  strength  to  iiirn  assign, 
«  And  before  his  hallow'd  shrine 
U  Yield  the  homage,  that  his  name 
<<  From  a  creature's  lips  may  claim. 
<*  Hark !  his  voice  in  thunder  breaks  ^ 
*<  Hush'd  to  silence,  while  he  speaks^ 
^  Ocean -B  waves  from  pde  to  pole 


LmcT.  97«  LTRIC  POETRY.  5S9 

<<  Hear  the  awful  accents  roll : 

<(  See,  as  louder  yet  they  rise, 

<<  Echoing  through  the  vaulted  skies, 

<*  Loftiest  cedars  lie  overthrown, 

^  Cedars  of  sleep  Lebanon. 

u  See,  up-rooted  from  its  seat, 

«  Trembling  at  the  threat  divine, 

«  Lebanon  itself  retreat ; 

<<  And  Sirion  haste  its  flight  to  join ! 

«  See  them  like  the  heifer  borne, 

<<  Like  the  beast  whose  pointed  bom 

tt  Strikes  with  dread  the  sylvan  train, 

<*  Bound  impetuous  on  the  plain. 

<<  Now  the  bursting  clouds  give  wa^, 

«  And  the  vivid  lightnings  play  ; 

^  And  the  wilds  by  man  untrod 

^  Hear,  disnay'd,  th*  approaching  God. 

<<  Cades  I  o*er  thy  lonely,  waste, 

<<  Oft  the  dreadful  sounds  have  past ; 

«  Oft  his  stroke  the  wood  invades : 

^  Widow'd  of  their  branchy  shades 

**  Mightiest  oaks  its  fury  know  ;^ 

U  The  oak§  ore  afeetedviih  paint  or  tremble .-  irbll  or  IT^M  is  an  eak  .• 
snd  certainly  this  word  frequently  occurs  in  the  plural  masculine»  with  the 
insertion  of  \  And  in  this  lense  the  Sth.  has  taken  it,  who  renders  it 
anVil  Tton.  For  the  word  pn  in  SyriaCy  as  well  as  Hebrew,  denotes  mo- 
tion or  agitation  of  any  kind ;  nor  is  its  meaning  confined  to  the  pains  of 
childbirth.  See  Isa.  U.  9.  '*  This  explanation  of  the  word  bVtrr  in  the 
**  sense  of  moving  or  thaking',  is  established  beyond  a  doubt  upon  the  aa- 
**  thority  of  the  Arabic  verb  y>n,  to  nurve  or  ehake."  H.  Though  the  word 
MnVN  does  not  appear  in  the  Syriac  Lexicons  to  signify  an  oak,  yet  it  oc- 
curs four  times  in  this  sense  in  the  Syriac  version,  exactly  answering  to  the 
Hebrew  word  rrbM,  3  Sax.  xviit  9,  10, 14.  as  also  in  this  place.  The  com- 
mon  translations  suppose  this  passi^  to  relate  to  the  Mnda  bringing'  firth 
young .'  which  agrees  very  little  with  the  rest  of  the  imagery  either  in  na^ 
tare  or  dignity :  nor  do  I  feel  myself  persuaded,  even  by  the  reasonings  of 
the  learned  Bochart  on  this  subject,  Hieroz.  part  L  lib.  iii.  chap.  17. 
Whereas  the  oak  struck  with  lightning  admirably  agrees  with  the  context. 
And  Bochart  himself  explains  the  word  nV«  (which  has  been  absurdly  win 
^erstood  by  the  Masorites  and  other  commentators  as  relating  to  a  stag) 
as  spoken  of  a  tree  in  a  very  beautiful  explication  of  ai|  obscure  passage  i^ 
Gav.  xlix.  31.    Jhaher't  J^te. 


19a  LTRIC  POETRY,  L»ct.  », 

«  While  the  pregimat  hind  her  throe 

*<  Instant  feels,  and  on  the  earth 

<<  Tremblbg  drops  th'  unfinished  birth. 

«  Prostrate  on  the  sacred  fleer 

tt  Israers  sons  his  name  adofle. 

<<  While  his  acts  to  every  Unifiie 

<<  Yields  its  ar^^ment  of  song. 

<<  He  the  swelling  surgexoaamanda ; 

**  Fis'd  his  throne  tat  ever  stands  i 

^  He  his  people  shall  inoteaae, 

^  Arm  with  atfeagib,  and  bless  with  peace.'' 


LECTURE  XXVm. 

rm  SUBLIME  8TTLK  OF  THE  HEBREW  ODE. 

Tht  uMSanit  Odd,  in  «hiok  all  the  eonstitiMKti  of  tabliaitf  formerly  spe- 
cified are  united— The  prophetic  Ode  of  Ho«e%  Dsirr.  xxxiL— The  tvU 
uioph»!  Ode  of  Deborah ;  the  Prayer  of  Habakkuk ;  the  Fate  of  Tyranny, 
bang  a  poetical  hnitation  of  the  zirth  duster  of  Isaiah. 

Jtf  BFOBB  we  conchide  ibis  disqubition  concerning  th6 
lyric  poetry  of  the  HebrewSi  it  will  be  proper  to  produce 
a  few  specimens  of  that  kind  of  ode,  which  derives  sub^ 
fimity  from  several  united  causes,  from  the  diction,  the 
sentiments,  the  form  and  conduct  of  the  poem ;  and 
which  accumulates,  or  in  a  manner  condenses  and  com- 
bines all  the  beauties  and  elegancies  of  this  style  of  com- 
position. The  poems  to  which  I  shall  refer  on  thid  oc- 
casion,  are  too  well  known  to  require  a  minute  explana- 
tion, and  indeed  almost  too  noble  and  perspicuous  in 
themselves  to  admit  of  any  illustration  from  criticism  t 
it  will  therefore  be  sufficient  to  notice  them  in  general 
terms,  or,  at  most,  briefly  to  recommend  a  few  passages^ 
which  are  perhaps  so  eminently  beautiful  as  to  deserve 
particular  attention. 

The  first  instance  I  shall  mention  is  that  prophetic  ode 
of  Moses,'  which  contains  a  justification  on  the  part  of 
God  against  the  Israelites,  and  an  explanation  of  the  na* 
ture  and  design  of  the  divme  judgements.  The  exor- 
dium is  singularly  magnificent ;  the  plan  and  conduct 
of  the  poem  is  just,  natural,  and  well  accommodated  to 
the  subject,  for  it  is  almost  in  the  order  of  an  historical 

1  DsYTT.  zzziL 


S93  LYRIC  POETRY.  Lsct.SS. 

narration.  It  embraces  a  variety  of  the  sublimest  sub- 
jects  and  sentiments,  it  displays  the  truth  and  justice  of 
God,  his  paternal  love,  and  his  unfailing  tenderness  to 
his  chosen  people ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  their  ungrate- 
ful and  contumacious  spirit.  The  ardour  of  the  divine 
indignation,  and  the  heavy  denunciations  of  vengeance, 
are  afterwards  expressed  in  a  remarkable  personification,, 
which  is  scarcely  to  be  paralleled  from  all  the  choicest 
treasures  of  the  Muses.  The  fervour  of  wrath  is  how- 
ever tempered  with  the  milder  beams  of  lenity  and  mer- 
cy, and  ends  at  last  in  promises  and  consolation.  When 
I  formerly  treated  of  elevation  of  sentiment,  of  the  im- 
pulse of  the  passions,  of  the  force  of  imagery  and  dic- 
tion, I  could  scarcely  have  avoided  touching  upon  this 
poem,  and  drawmg  some  of  my  examples  from  it«*  Not 
to  repeat  these,  or  accumulate  unnecessaiy  matter,  I  will 
only  add  one  remark,  namely,  that  the  subject  and  style 
of  this  poem  bear  so  exact  a  resemblance  to  the  pro- 
phetic as  well  as  the  lyric  compositions  (^  the  Hebrews, 
that  it  unites  all  the  force,  energy,  and  bddness  of  the 
latter,  with  the  exquisite  variety  and  grandeur  of  ima- 
gery so  peculiar  to  the  former.' 

Another  specimen  of  the  perfectly  sublime  ode  will 
be  found  in  the  triumphal  ode  of  Deborah/  This  poem 
consists  of  three  parts :  first,  the  exordium  ;  next,  a 
vecital  of  the  circumstances  which  preceded,  and  of 
those  which  accompanied  the  victory ;  lastly,  a  fuller 
description  of  the  concluding  event,  Uie  death  of  Sisera, 
and  the  disappointed  hopes  of  his  mother,  which  is  em- 
bellished with  all  the  choicest  flowers  of  poetry.  Qf 
this  latter  part,  I  endeavoured  to  explain  at  large  the 
principal  beauties  in  a  former  lecture.  About  the  mid- 
dle of  the  poem,  it  must  be  confessed,  some  obscurities 

s  See  LxoT.  xr.  3  Jvs.  v.  4  Seo  IfiQt  xuL 


Lbct.  St;  LYRIC  POETftT.  89S 

occur,  and  those  not  of  a  trivial  nature,  which  impair 
the  beauty  of  the  composition ;   and  what  b  worse,  I 
fear  they  will  scarcely  admit  of  elucidation,  unless  we 
were  possessed  of  some  further  historical  lights.    The 
ez<xidium  deserves  a  particular  examination,  as  well  for 
its  native  magnificence  and  sublimity,  as  because  it  will 
serve  more  completely  to  illustrate  my  remarks  con- 
cerning the  digressions  of  the  Hebrew  ode.     I  observed, 
that  the  praicipal  passages  in  the  sacred  history,  which 
in  general  constitute  the  materials  of  these  digressions, 
are  so  ccmnected  with  every  subject  of  sacred  poetry, 
that  even  in  the  most  eccentric  excursions  of  the  imag- 
ination, there  is  little  danger  of  wandering  from  the  main 
scope  and  design.     The  subject  of  this  ode  is  the  tri- 
umph of  the  Israelites  over  their  enemies  through  the 
divine  assistance,  and  the  establishment  of  their  liberty. 
At  the  very  opening  of  the  poem  this  is  proposed  as  the 
ground- work  of  it :    and  after  inviting  the  kings  and 
princes  of  the  neighbouring  nations  to  attend  to  this 
miracle  of  the  divine  goodness,  the  author  proceeds  to 
celebrate  the  praise  of  God,  not  commencing  with  the 
benefit  so  recently  received,  but  with  the  prodigies  for- 
meriy  exhibited  in  Egypt : 

^  O  JxHovAH,  when  thou  weniett  forth  out  of  Seir, 

^  When  thou  procecdedst  from  the  plams  of  Edom  ; 

^  The  earth  was  moved,  the  heavens  dropped, 

«  The  clouds  also  dropped  water ; 

«  The  mountidns  melted  from  before  the  face  of  Jxhovah. 

«  Sinah  itself  from  before  JsbotaBi  the  God  of  Israel.** 

The  sudden  introduction  of  such  important  incidents, 
breathes  the  free  and  fervid  spirit  of  the  lyric  Muse» 
There  is  however  no  defect  in  the  connexion,  nor  does 
any  degree  of  obscurity  attend  the  comparison  which  is 
50 


M4  LTRIC  POETRY.  Lmtt.n. 

implied  between  that  stopeadouB  delivenftce  and  the 
benefit  so  lately  received. 

On  the  same  principle  the  prayer  of  Rabakkuk  is 
constructed ;'  and  is  a  remarkable  instance  of  that  sob* 
limity  peculiar  to  the  Ode,  and  which  is  often  the  rerah 
of  a  bold  but  natural  digression.  The  prophet  foresee- 
ing the  judgement  of  God,  and  the  impending  calami- 
ties, which  were  to  be  inflicted  upon  bis  nation  by  the 
hands  of  the  Chaldeans,  as  well  as  the  punishments, 
which  the  latter  wcfe  themselves  to  undergo ;  parthf 
struck  with  terror,  partly  cheered  with  hope,  he  be* 
seeches  Ahnighty  God  to  hasten  the  redemption  of  his 
people : 

**  O  Jehovah,  I  have  heard  thy  speech, 
•*  I  hate  feared^  O  JsROVAn,  thy  work. 
«  As  the  yearb*  approach,  ikott  bast  abevo  Ht 
«  Aud  ID  thy  wrath  haat  remembered  mercy." 

In  this  passage,  the  resemblance  between  the  Babylonish 
and  Egyptian  captivitiea  naturally  presents  itself  to  the 
mind,  as  well  as  the  possibility  of  a  similar  deliverance 
through  the  power  aud  assistance  of  God*  With  how 
much  propriety,  thereforct  might  the  prophet  have  con*> 
tinned  his  supplications  to  that  all-powerful  and  aUU 
merciful  God ;  that,  as  he  had  formerly  wrought  so 
many  miracles  in  favour  of  his  people,  he  would  aflTord 
them  relief  and  consolation  on  the  present  occasion ; 
and  how  efficacious  a  method  would  it  have  been,  to 
confirm  the  fortitude  of  every  pious  person,  to  remind 
them,  that  he  who  had  formerly  manifested  his  infinite 
power  in  delivering  the  Israelites  from  their  great  af* 
flictionsj  might,  in  proper  time,  employ  the  same  means 

«  Uahak;  iii. 

•  See  the  Vvi.«.  and  Taxonoriov^  tt  iorf  itm*    Aavika.  and  the  LXX. 
IV  T^  tyyt^in  roc  trr    SimiAcuvf»,  trrof  raw  ntauTOf*    AU  of  them  almost  in  the 
'  same  sense,  that  is,  **  witbin  a  fixed  time.'* 


LmtttU.  XTRIC  POETRr.  -^Ms 

to  rescue  tiitiii  from  tlieir  preaent  state  of  suflfering  ? 
He  however  tot^lj  disregards  the  fprmalit)^  of  this 
method)  probably  because  he  supposed  all  the  above 
ideas  would  spootaneously  occur  to  the  reader;  nor 
does  he  labour  for  access  by  slow  and  regular  approach- 
es to  the  sacred  depository  of  the  most  splendid  materia 
als,  but  bursts  into  it  at  once,  and  by  a  sort  of  unex- 
pected impulse : 

«  God  came  TenmiH 

**  And  the  Hely  One  from  nount  Panm ; 

^  His  glory  covered  the  heaTeot ; 

«  And  the  earth  wu  full  of  bis  praiee." 

The  prophet,  indeed,  illustrates  this  subject  throughout 
with  equal  itiagnificence ;  selecting  from  such  an  as* 
semblage  of  miraculous  incidents,  the  most  noble  and 
important,  displaying  them  in  the  most  splendid  coU 
ours,  and  embellishing  them  with  the  subliihest  image- 
ry,  figures,  and  diction,  the  dignity  of  which  is  so 
heightened  and  recommended  by  the  superior  elegance 
of  the  conclusion,  that  were  it  not  for  a  lew  shades, 
which  the  hand  of  time  has  apparently  cast  over  it  in 
two  or  three  pass^es,  no  composition  of  the  kind  would^ 
I  believe,  appear  more  elegant  or  more  perfect  than  this 
poem. 

I  will  add  one  remarkable  example  more  of  the  per- 
fectly sublime  ode,  which  indeed  it  would  be  utterly 
unpardonable  to  overlook ;  I  mean^  the  triumphal  song 
of  the  Israelites  on  the  destruction  of  Babylon.  It  is 
almost  unnecessary  to  add,  that  it  is  in  no  respect  un- 
worthy of  Isaiah,  whom  I  cannot  help  esteeming  the 
first  of  poets,  a^ well  for  elegance  as  sublimity.  Having 
formerly  taken  up  a  consaderabic  portion  of  your  time 
and  attention  in  a  minute  investigation  of  its  beauties,  it 
is  now  presented  in  the  modem  form  of  a  lyric  compo- 
sition. 


9M  LYRIC  POETRT.  Lmt.  9«. 

OV   TftB  7ATm  OV  TT&AVlfT»  ISAIAH  XIT. 

<(  Oppression  diet :  the  tyrant  falls  s 
«  The  golden  City  bows  her  walls  ! 

M  Jbhotah  breaks  th'  Avenger's  rod. 
«  The  Son  of  Wrath,  whose  ruthless  hand 
^  Hurl'd  Desolation  o'er  the  land, 
^  Has  run  his  raging  race,  has  clos'd  the  scene  of  blood» 
<<  Chiefs  armM  around  behold  their  TanquiahM  lord ; 
"  Nor  spread  the  guardian  shield,  nor  lift  the  loyal  sword. 

^  He  falls  ;  and  Earth  again  b  free. 
«  Hark  !  at  the  call  of  Liberty, 

«  All  Nature  lilU  the  choral  seiig. 
^  The  Fir-trees,  on  the  noutttain's  head» 
«  Rejcnce  through  all  their  pomp  of  shade  $ 
<<  The  lordly  Cedars  nod  on  sacred  Lebanon : 
<<  Tyrant !  they  cry,  since  thy  fell  force  u  broke, 
^<  Our  proud  heads  pierce  the  skies,  nor  fear  the  woodmanls  stiob^ 

*<  Hell,  from  her  gulf  profound, 
<<  Rouses  at  thine  approach  ;  and,  all  around, 
«  ^er  dreadful  notes  of  preparation  sound. 
«  See,  at  the  awful  call, 
^  Her  shadowy  heroes  all, 
^  Ev'n  mighty  kings,  the  heirs  of  empire  wide» 
**  Rising,  with  solemn  state,  and  sloW} 
^  From  their  sable  thrones  below, 

tt  Meet,  and  insult  thy  pride. 
«  What,  dost  thou  join  our  ghostly  traisi 
<«  A  flitting  shadow  light,  and  Tain  i 
*^  Where  is  thy  pomp,  thy  festive  throng 
**  Thy  revel  dance,  and  wanton  song  I 
^  Proud  king  i  CormptioD  fastens  on  ihj  breast ; 
<<  And  calls  her  crawling  brood,  and  bids  them  share  the  feast 

*<  Oh  Lucifer  !  thou  radiant  star ; 
^  Son  of  the  Morn  ;  whose  rosy  car 

**  Fiam'd  foremost  in  the  van  of  day  s 
**  How  art  thou  fairn,  thou  king  of  light ! 
^  How  fall'n  from  thy  meridian  height ! 
«  Who  saidst  the  distant  poles  shall  hear  me»  and  obey. 
<<  High,  o'er  the  stars,  my  sapphire  throne  shall  glow, 
«« And,  as  Jshovah's  self,  my  voice  the  heey'ns  shall  boi^. 


Lb<;t.  M.  LTRIC  poetry.  S^T 

«  He  ipakey  be  died.    Diitate'd  whh  gort» 
«  Beside  yoo  yawning  cavern  hoari 

**  See,  where  his  lirid  corse  is  laid. 
«  The  aged  pilgrim  passing  by, 
^  Surreys  him  long  with  dubious  eye ; 
«  And  muses  on  bis  fate,  and  shakes  his  reverend  head. 
«  Just  heav'ns  1  is  thus  thy  pride  imperisl  gone  ? 
«  Is  thb  poor  heap  of  dust  the  king  of  Babylon  ? 

«  1«  this  the  man,  whose  nod 
«  Made  the  earth  tremble ;  whose  teniae  rod 
«  Leveird  her  loftiest  cities  ?  Where  he  trod» 

<<  Famine  pursued,  and  frown'd ; 

«  'Till  Nature»  groaning  round, 
^  Saw  her  rich  realms  transformed  tp  deserts  diy ; 
M  While  at  his  crowded  prison's  gate  ; 
^  Grasping  the  keys  of  Fate» 

«  Stood  stem  Captivity. 
^  Vain  man  1  behold  thy  righteous  doom ; 
^  Behold  each  neighboring  monarch's  tomb ; 
^  The  trophied  arch,  the  breathing  bust, 
«  The  laurel  shades  their  sacred  dust ; 
«  While  thou,  vile  out-cast,  on  this  hostile  plain, 
<<  Moulder'st,  a  vulgar  corse,  among  the  vulgar  slain. 

«  No  trophied  arch,  no  breathing  bust, 
^  Shall  dignify  thy  trampled  dust : 

^  No  laurel  flourish  o^r  thy  grave. 
«  For  why,  proud  kmg,  thy  nithlesa  hand 
^  HurPd  desolation  o'er  fhe  land, 
<<  And  crush'd  the  subject  race,  whom  kings  are  bom  to  save ; 
^  Eternal  in&my  shall  blast  thf  name, 
^  And  ail  thy  sons  shall  share  their  impious  father's  shame. 

^  Rise,  purple  Slaughter  i  furious  rise ; 
<<  Unfold  the  terror  of  thine  eyes ; 

***  Dart  thy  vindictive  shafts  around : 
M  Let  no  strange  land  a  shade  afford, 
M  No  coni^uer'd  nations  call  them  lord : 
Jf  Nor  let  their  cities  rise  tp  curse  the  goodly  ground-. 
<*  For  thus  JsnovAH  swears ;  no  namei  no  son, 
M  No  remnant,  shall  remain  of  haughty  Babylon. 


iM  LTRiC  POETRY.  i«ov.M. 

«  Thus  ««itb  the  rigbtcov»  Lord : 
<<  My  rengeance  shall  uosbeftth  the  Saouog  sword ; 
*^  O'er  all  thy  realms  my  fury  shall  be  pour'd. 
^  Where  yon  proud  city  stoodf 
<<  ril  spread  the  sugnant  flood ; 
Aftd  there  the  bittern  io  the  sedge  shall  hirk» 
M  Moaning  with  sullen  strain  t 
((  While,  sweeping  o'er  the  plsiOt 

<<  Destruction  ends  her  work. 
^  YeS)  on  mine  holy  mountain's  brow. 
«  111  crush  this  proud  Assyrian  foe. 
«  Th'  irrevocable  word  is  spoke. 
«  From  Judah's  neck  the  galling  yoke 
«  Spontaneous  falls,  she  shines  with  wonted  state  ; 
«  Thus  by  ictsblf  I  swear,  and  what  I  swear  is  Fate.*'' 

'  Bfr.  Potter  has  &TOUi«d  the  world  vith  a  rety  elfigmt  and  spirited 
psnphrase  of  this  prophetic  ode.  His  desariptioii  of  tlie  reception  of  the 
king  of  Babylon  in  .the  infieroal  legions  is  psrticttkrly  stiikiqg : 

**  To  meet  thee,  Hades  Tonsefs  A^om  beneath, 

*<  An  iron  smile  his  visage  wears  ( 
<«  He  calls  through  all  the  drear  abodes  of  dei^; 

«<  His  call  each  mighty  chieftain  bears  i 
**  And  scepteed  ki^gs,  of  empires  wide» 
**  Rise  from  their  lofty  thrones,  and  thus  accost  thy  pride. 

«  Is  this  weak  Ibrai  of  flitting  air 
««  The  potent  Lord  that  ftU'd  th'  Assyrisn  throne  } 
**  Thus  are  thy  wonted  glories  gone  ? 

**  Where  thy  rich  feasts,  thy  sprightly  viols  where  ? 
'*  Beneath  thee  is  corruption  spread, 
'<  And  worms  the  corering  of  thy  bed  f 
«« H0W  art  thon  fiAcn,  bright  star  of  orient  day, 

*<  How  fallen  from  thy  etherial  height» 
<*  Son  of  the  morning !  Thou»  whqse  ssiynne  ray 

«<  Glar'd  terribly  a  baleful  light ; 
«  War  kindled  at  the  blaae^  and  wild 

"  Rush'd  SUughter,  Havoc  nish'4  thesr  iol?es  witk  bbed  dafilU 
<«  /  m  %A  heaven  mU  As  adm^d, 

**  Abwe  the  itart  o/  God  exaU  ny  throne  i 

**  My  p9wer  9haU  sacred  Sion  ovit, 
««  7^  mount  of  God*o  fu^h  preienee  haitme  Lord. 
*«  Such  thy  vain  threats  :  Death's  daric  abode" 
f *  Yawns  to  receive  the  «aontjng  god.'* 


LscT.as.  LTMC  POETRY.  399 

The  ezpottnktlon  of  the  traveUen,  who  find  the  hody  expoied»  b  also  ez« 
pressed  in  terms  truly  magnificent : 

**  Is  this  the  man,  whose  barb'rous  hate 
^  Bound  captire  monarchs  in  his  galling  chain ; 
**  While  Outrage  call'd  his  loit'ring  train, 
*'  And  Rigour  clos'd  the  dungeon's  ruthless  gate  ? 
**  How  from  his  high  dominion  huri'd 
**  The  spoiler  of  the  ravaged  world  !^ 
«<  Shalt  thou  with  bcfnour»d  dkiefii  lepow  f 
<<  Her  jaws  'gainst  thee  the  grare  shall  close; 
*'  For  where  portentous  thy  proud  banners  wav'd, 

**  Rapine  nuh'd  o'er  tiie  wasted  Isnd^ 
**  Thy  country  too,  her  free-bom  sons  enalay'd, 
**  Or  sUughter'd,  curs'd  thy  hostile  hand." 

I  close  these  extracts  with  the  denunciation  of  /sbotas  i|^ai8st  th«  As- 
syrians % 

^  Dreadful  en  Sion's  sacred  brow 

**  The  €k)d  of  armies  shall  they  know. 
«<  Daughter  ef  Sion,  let  thy  joy  arise, 

•«  Prom  thy  griei^d  neck  his  yoke  shall  fa!!  ; 
**  Yirgm  exult,  thy  haughty  foe  despise^ 

<'  His  chain  no  more  thy  arms  shall  gtU  !*^ 


OP  TBF4  IDTLUUM  OR  HTMK. 

LECTURE  XXIX. 

OF  THE  IDYIiUUM  OF  THE  HEBKEW8. 

Betides  tlioie  poeiM  which  may  be  itrictly  termed  odes,  the  genend  tp- 
peUatioDy  which  in  the  Hebrew  is  equivilent  to  Csnticle  or  8oii|^.  in- 
cludes another  species  called  hy  the  Greeks»  the  IdyUiain.^The  reason 
of  this  name»  and  the  definition  of  the  poem  to  which  it  is  appropriated* 
->The  historical  Psalms  in  general  bdong  properly  to  this  dsas.— The 
intercalsry  stsnza  snd  the  nature  of  it-— The  elegant  plan  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  hundred  and  seventh  Psalm  explained :  also  the  ixth  ehi^ 
ler  of  Isaiah»  yer.  8»  to  chap«  x.  Ter.  4— This  psssage  a  peribet  specimen 
of  the  Idyllium :  other  examples  of  the  Idyllium  no  less  perfect  aa  to 
style  snd  form.— The  Hymn  of  Cleanthes  the  stoic  commended.  The 
Gxxzixth  Psalm  in  English  verse. 

AMoirGST  those  poems  which  by  the  Hebrews  were 
adapted  to  music,  and  dbtinguished  by  the  general  ap- 
pellation Shmm^  there  are  some  which  differ  in  thdr 
nature  from  lyric  poetry,  strictly  so  called.  It  will 
therefore  be  more  regular  to  class  them  with  those  oom« 
positions  anciently  termed  Idyllhims,  the  name  and  na« 
tore  of  which  I  shall  endeavour  to  explain. 

Whether  we  are  to  attribute  the  invention  of  the  name 
to  the  poets  themselves,  or  to  the  grammarians  who  re« 
vised  their  works,  is  difficult  to  say ;  but  we  find  some 
of  the  Greek  poems  distinguished  by  the  title  JEidS^ 
which  denotes  a  poem  without  any  certain  limitation  as 
to  form  or  subject.  Even  the  odes  of  Pindar  retam 
that  appelbtion.  But  if  tliere  were  any  upon  lighter 
subjects,  or  in  a  more  humble  strain,  indeed  in  any  re- 


Ls€T.  9f .  THE  IDTLLIUM.  40^ 

apect  ci  an  inferior  kind»  and  such  as  conld  not.be  chas- 
ed under  any  of  the  common  divisions»  they  were  en^: 
titled  Eidyllia.  Thus  the  small  poems  of  Theocritus» 
which  consist  chiefly  of  Bucolics,  intermingled  with 
others  of  different  kinds,  are  called  IdylUums.  In  th^ 
same  manner  the  Latiifs  preferred  the  name  of  Echgueg^ 
or  poems  selected  from  a  number  of  others ;  and  for  a 
contrary  and  more  modest  reason,  that  of  sffloa  (or 
woods  J  was  given  to  such  verses  as  were  hastily  com- 
{>osed,  and  promiscuously  thrown  together,  such  as 
might  afford  matter  for  a  more  accurate  revision  or  for 
a  similar  selection.  But  although  the  term  Idyllium  be 
a  vague  and  general  term,  which  denotes  nothing  cer» 
tain  relating  to  the  nature  of  the  poem,  it  still  appears 
by  use  and  custom  to  have  obtained  a  certain  and  9^- 
propriated  destination ;  and  perhaps  it  may  not  be  imi» 
properly  defined,  a  pbem  of  moderate  length ;  of  a  uni- 
form, middle  style,  chiefly  distinguished  for  elegance 
and  sweetness ;  regular  and  clear  as  to  plot,  conduct^ 
arrangement.  There  are  niany  perfept  exapaplcs  of  this 
kind  of  poem  extant  in  the  writings  of  the  Hebrews; 
some  of  which,  I  presume,  it  will  not  be  unpkasing 
singly  to  point  out  and  explain. 

The  first  c^  these  poems  which  attract  our  notice  are 
the  historical  Psalms,  in  celebration  of  the  power  and 
the  other  attributes  of  the  Deity,  as  instanced  in  the 
miracles  which  he  performed  in  &vour  of  his  people 
One  of  the  principal  of  these,  bearing  the  name  of  A* 
saph,^  pursues  the  histoiy  of  the  Israelites  from  the  time 
of  their  departure  from  Egypt  to  the  reign  of  David» 
particularizing  and  illustrating  all  the  leading  events. 
The  style  is  simple  and  uniform,  but  the  structure  is 
poetical,  and  the  sentiments  occasionally  splendid.   The 

51 


403  THE  IDVLLIUM.  Lbct.  %9. 

bistorical,  or  rather  chrondogidal  order,  canncft  be  said 
to  be  exactly  preserved  throughout ;  for  the  minute  de* 
tail  of  so  protracted  a  series  of  events  could  scarcely  fail 
to  tire  in  a  work  of  imagination.  The  Egyptian  mira* 
cles  are  introduced  in  a  veiy  happy  and  elegant  digres- 
sion, and  may  be  considered  as  forming  a  kind  of  ep* 
liode.  The  same  subject  affords  materials  for  two 
other  Psalms,  the  hundred  and  fifth,  and  the  hundred 
and  sixth :  the  one  including  the  history  of  Israel,  from 
the  call  of  Abraham  to  the  Exodus;  the  other,  from 
that  period  to  the  later  ages  of  the  commonwealth : 
both  of  them  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  seventy- 
eighth,  as  well  in  the  subject  as  in  the  style  (except 
perhaps  that  the  diction  is  rather  of  a  more  simple  cast ;) 
the  mixture  of  ease  and  grace,  disjrfayed  in  the  exordi- 
om,  is  the  same  in  all. 

These  Psalms,  both  in  plot  and  conduct,  have  a  sur* 
prizing  analogy  to  the  hymns  of  the  Greeks.  Indeed 
the  Greek  translators  might  very  properly  have  given 
the  tide  of  Hymns  to  the  book  of  Psalms,  as  that  word 
agrees  much  more  exactly  with  the  Hebrew  title  TehU- 
Im,  than  that  which  they  have  adopted.  This  species 
of  poetry  was  very  early  in  use  among  the  Greeks,  and 
was  almost  entirely  appropriated  to  the  celebration  oi 
their  reli^ous  rites.  The  subjects  in  general  were  Ac 
origin  of  the  gods,  the  places  of  their  birth,  their  a- 
chievements,  and  the  other  circumstances  of  their  his- 
tory. Such  are  all  the  poems  of  this  kind  now  extant 
in  the  Greek ;  such  are  the  elegant  hymns  of  Calima* 
chus,  as  well  as  those  which  are  attributed  to  Homer. 
The  poem  of  Theocritus,  entitled  theDiosxouROi,  or 
the  praise  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  is  also  a  genuine  hymn, 
and  very  elegant  in  its  kind :  nor  is  it  improperly  class- 
ed among  the  Idylliums,  which  may  be  said  to  indode 


Lbct.3»»  the  IDTLLIUH.  403 

all  of  this  speoks.  But  the  true  form  and  character  of 
the  hymn  is  excellently  expressed  by  the  two  choirs  of 
Salii  (or  priests  of  war)  in  Virgil : 

**  One  choir  of  oldf  another  of  the  yoang  ; 
*^  To  dance»  and  bear  the  burthen  of  the  tong  ; 
«<  The  lay  records  the  labours  and  the  praise, 
<<  And  all  th*  immortal  acts  of  Hercules."* 

Those  ancient  hymns,  which  are  falsely,  attributed  to 
Orpheus,  are  more  properly  initiatory  songs;  for  they 
contain  ^'  little  more  than  invocations  of  the  gods,  which 
^*  were  nuule  use  of  by  those  who  were  initiated  in  the 
**  sacred  mysteries  of  any  of  the  goda.^'*  Ovid»  wh^ 
was  both  an  el^ant  and  a  learned  poet,  united  the  ex*- 
cellencies  <£  both  these  species  of  hymns :  for  the  ex- 
ordium of  the  hymn  to  Bacchus  contains  the  invocation^ 
of  that  god,  or  in  other  words,  announces  solemnly  hif 
name  and  titles ;  the  remainder  celebrates  his  perfec- 
tions and  achievements/ 

There  is  yet  another  Psalm,  which  may  be  enume- 
rated among  those  of  the  historical  kind,  namdy,  the 
hundred  and  thirty-^xth.  It  celebrates  the  praises  of 
the  Almighty,  and  proclaims  hb  infinite  power  and 
goodness;  beginning  with  the  work  of  creation,  and 
{>roceeding  to  the  mirades  of  the  Exodus,  the  principal 
of  which  are  related  almost  in  the  historical  order.  The 
exordium  commences  with  this  well-known  distich : 

^  Glorify  Jbbotah,  for  he  is  good ; 
*  For  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever  j** 

which,  aecordiag  to  Ezra,'  was  commonly  sung  by  a!^ 
temate  choirs.  There  is,  however,  one  circumstance 
remarkable  attending  it,  which  is,  that  the  bitter  line  of 

S  Diyd.  Virg^.  JEneid.  riii.  379. 

s  Jos.  ScAuesB,  Annot.  in  Hymn.  Orph.  *  Metamorph.  xr.  11. 

#£zra  lU.  10»  U. 


40t  THE  IDTLLIUM.  LscT.)t« 

the  distich,  being  added  by  the  second  choir,  and  also 
subjoined  to  every  verse  (which  is  a  singular  case)  forms 
a  perpetual  epode.  Hence  the  whole  nature  and  form 
of  the  intercalary  verse,  (or  burthen  of  the  song)  VMf 
be  collected :  it  expresses  in  a  clear,  concise,  and  sim- 
pie  manner,  some  particular  sentiment,  which  seems  to 
include  virtually  the  general  subject  or  design  of  tlie 
poem ;  and  it  is  thrown  in  at  proper  intervals,  according 
to  the  nature  and  arrangement  of  it,  for  the  sake  of  im- 
pressing the  subject  more  firmly  upon  tlie  mind.  That 
the  intercalary  verse  is  perfccdy  congenial  to  the  Idyll* 
ium,  is  evident  from  the  authority  of  Theocritus,  Bion^ 
Moschus,  and  even  of  Virgil.  I  shall  add  one  or  two 
examples  (h)m  the  sacred  poetry,  which  will  not  lose  in 
a  comparison  with  the  most  perfect  specimens  in  this 
department  of  poetry,  which  tliose  excellent  writers 
have  bequeathed  to  posterity :  and  in  order  to  illustrate 
as  well  the  elegance  of  the  poem  in  general,  as  the  pe« 
culiar  force  and  beauty  of  the  intercalary  verse,  the  or- 
der  and  conduct  of  the  subject  must  be  particularly  ex* 
plained. 

The  hundred  and  seventh  Psalm  may  undoubtedly 
be  enumerated  among  the  most  elegant  monuments  of 
antiquity ;  and  it  is  chiefly  indebted  for  its  elegance  to 
the  general  plan  and  conduct  of  the  poem.  It  celebrates 
the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God  towards  mankind,  as 
Remonstrated  in  the  immediate  assistance  and  comfort 
which  he  aifords,  in  the  greatest  calamities,  to  those  who 
devoutjy  implore  his  aid.  In  the  first  place,  to  those 
who  wander  in  the  desert,  and  who  encounter  the  hor- 
irors  of.  famine ;  next,  to  those  who  are  in  bondage ;  IQ 
those  who  are  afflicted  with  disease ;  and  finally,  to  those 
who  are  tossed  about  upon  the  ocean.  The  prolixity  of 
the  argument  is  occasionally  relieved  by  aarralion ;  aR4 


iMMt.M.  THE  IDTLLIUM.  4Ct» 

examples  are  superadded  of  the  divine  severity  in  pun* 
ialiing  the  wicked,  as  well  as  of  his  benignity  to  the  de- 
vout and  virtuous;  and  both  die  narrative^mid  precep- 
tive parts  are  recommended  to  the  earnest  contemplation 
of  considerate  minds.  Thus  the  whole  poem  actually 
divides  into  five  parts  nearly  equal;  the  four  first  of 
which  conclude  with  an  intercalary  verse»  expreanve  of 
the  subject  w  design  of  the  hymn : 

«  Glorify  JattovAK  for  his  mercy, 

«  And  for  his  wonders  to  the  children  of  men." 

This  distich  also  is  occasibnally  diversified,  and  anodier 
sometimes  anne3(ed  illustrative  of  the  sentiment ; 

<<  For  he  satisfieth  the  famished  soul, 
M  And  filleth  the  hungry  with  good." 

^  For  he  hath  brciken  the  brazen  gates» 

**  And  the  bolts  of  iron  be  hath  cut  in  sunder." 

The  sentinient  of  the  epode  itself  is  sometimes,  repeats 
edy  only  varied  by  different  imiagery : 

<<  Glorify  Jb90tak  for  hi^  mercy» 
<<  And  for  his  wouders  to  the  childrep  of  men : 
*^  Let  them  also  offer  sacrifices  of  praise, 
<«  And  let  them  declare  bis  works  with  melody." 
«  Let  them  exalt  biro  in  the  assembly  of  the  people, 
M  And  in  the  council  of  the  elders  let  them  celebrate  htm." 

In  aH  diese  passages,  the  transition  from  the  contempla^ 
tion  of  their  calamities,  to  that  of  their  deliverance^ 
which'is  made  by  the  perpetual  repetition  of  the  same 
dlistich,  is  truly  elegant : 

M  Let  them  also  cry  unto  Jbhotah  in  their  troubles ; 
^  And  from  their  aflUctions  he  will  deliver  tbem  s" 

^liis  however  does  not  appear  in  the  kast  to  partake  of 
the  nature  of  the  intercalary  verse.  The  latter  part  of 
^e  Psalm,  which  comprehends  a  vast  variety  of  matter^ 
concludes  with  two  distichs  expressive  of  a  sentitnent^ 


40e  THE  IDYLLIUM:  liKCT.Sf. 

gnivei  sokmn,  and  practical,  and  in  no  rea|iect  unwor- 
thy the  rest  of  the  poem. 

lliere  are  many  other  examples  to  be  found  in  tho 
Psalms ;  but  it  must  be  confessed,  few  of  them  are 
equal,  and  none  of  them  superior  to  this.  I  sliall  sdect 
another  specimen  from  Isaiah ;  and  the  more  willingiy, 
because,  in  it,  as  in  other  passages  of  the  same  author, 
the  common  division  into  chapters  has  greatly  obscured 
that  most  elegant  writer,  by  absurdly  breaking  the  unity 
of  a  very  interesting  poem,  and  connecting  each  part 
with  matter  which  b  totally  foreign  to  the  subject.  U 
we  unite  the  conclusion  of  the  ninth  chapter  with  the 
beginning  of  the  tenth,  we  shall  find  a  complete  and  con. 
hected  prophecy  against  the  kingdom  of  Israel  or  Sa- 
maria/ It  is  replete  with  terror  and  solemnity,  and  pos* 
sesses  a  degree  of  force  and  sublimity  to  which  the  Idyll* 
ium  seldom  rises ;  though  it  preserves  the  form  of  the 
Jdyllium  so  perfect  and  express,  that  it  cannot  with  pro- 
priety be  referred  to  any  other  class.  The  poem  con- 
«sts  of  four  parts,  each  of  which  contains  a  denunciation 
of  vengeance  against  the  crimes  of  this  rebellious  peo- 
ple, vehemently  accusing  them  of  some  atrocious  of- 
fence, and  distinctly  marking  out  the  particular  punish- 
ment. In  the  first,  the  pride  and  o^entation  of  the  Is- 
raelites is  reproved ;  in  the  second,  the  obduracy  of 
their  sjurit,  and  the  general  depravation  of  their  morals ; 
in  the  third,  their  audacious  impiety,  wbicb  rages  iike  a 
0ame,  destroying  and  laying  waste  the  nation ;  and  lastly* 
their  iniquity  is  set  forth  as  demonstrated  in  their  partial 
administration  of  justice,  and  their  oppression  of  the 
poor.    To  each  of  these  a  s{)ecific  punishment  is  aa- 

0  IsAi.  iz.  8. — X.  4.  "  In  one  MS.  a  vacant  space  U  left  after  Isa.  z«  4» 
^  but  no  space  of  the  same  kind  at  the  end  of  chap.  ix.  In  another  MS. 
f*  aft«r  chap.  x.  4»  a  space  of  one  line  i$  snttfposcd,'*    K. 


L»CT. ».  THE  IDTLLIVM.  407 

nexed ;  and  a  clause,  declaratoiy  of  a  further  reserve  of 
the  divine  vengeance  is  added,  which  forms  the  epode, 
and  is  admirably  calculated  to  exaggerate  the  horror  of 
the  prediction : 

<<  For  ttU  this  bis  anger  is  not  turned  awaf  $ 

^  But  his  band  is  stiU  suvicbed  out." 

The  examples  which  I  have  hitherto  produced  will, 
dCt  first  view,  explain  their  own  nature  and  kind ;  there 
are,  however,  others,  and  probably  not  a  few,  (in  the 
book  of  Psalms  particularly)  which  may  equally  be  ac« 
counted  of  the  Idyllium  ^cies.  I  have  principally  in 
contemplation  those,  in  which  some  particular  subject  is 
treated  in  a  more  copious  and  regular  manner,  than  is 
usual  in  compositions  strictly  lyric.  Such  is  the  hun- 
dred and  fourth  Psalm,  which  demonstrates  the  glory  of 
the  infinite  Creator,  from  the  wisdom,  beauty,  and  va- 
riety of  his  works.  The  poet  embellishes  this  noble 
subject  with  the  clearest  and  most  splendid  colouring  of 
language ;  and  with  imagery  the  most  magnificent,  live* 
ly,  diversified,  and  pleasing,  at  the  same  time  select,  and 
happily  adapted  to  the  subject  There  is  nothing  of  ihi 
kind  extant,  indeed  nodiing  can  be  conceived,  more  per- 
fisct  than  this  hymn,  whether  it  be  considered  with  re- 
spect to  its  intrinsic  beauties,  or  as  a  model  of  that  species 
of  composition.  Miraculous  exertions  of  the  divine 
power  have  somethii^  in  them  which  at  first  strikes  tho 
inattentive  mind  with  a  strong  sentiment  of  sublimit/ 
and  awe :  but  the  true  subject  of  praise,  the  most  worthy» 
of  God,  and  the  best  adapted  to  impress  upon  the  heart 
of  man  a  fiervent  and  permanent  sense  of  piety,  is  drawn 
from  the  contemplation  of  his  power  in  die  creation  of 
this  infinite  All,  his  wisdom  in  arranging  and  adorning^ 
it,  his  providence  in  sustaining;,  and  his  mercy  in  the 
regulation  of  its  minutest  parts,  and  in  ordering  and  di* 


40$  THE  IDVLLIUM.  liBCT.Sf^ 

recting  the  afiUrs  of  men.  The  Gre^k  hymns  consisted 
chiefly  of  fables,  and  these  fables  regarded  persons  and 
events,  which  were  neither  laudable  in  themselves,  nor 
gready  to  be  admired ;  indeed  I  do  not  recollect  any  that 
are  extant  of  this  sublime  nature,  except  that  of  the  fa- 
mous stoic  Cleanthes,  which  is  inscribed  to  Jove,  that  is 
to  God  the  Creator,  or  as  he  expresses  himself,  '*  to  the 
Eternal  Mind,  the  Creator  and  Governor  of  Nature."' 
It  is  doubdess  a  most  noble  monument  of  ancient  wis- 
dom,  and  replete  with  truths  not  less  solid  than  magnifi- 
cent. For  the  sentiments  of  the  philosopher  concerning 
the  divine  power,  concerning  the  harmony  of  nature,  and 
the  supreme  kiws,  concerning  the  folly  and  unhappiness 
of  wicked  men,  whp  are  unceasingly  subject  to  tbepain 
and  perturbation  of  a  troubled  spirit ;  and  above  att»  the 
ardent  supplication  for  the  divine  assistance,  in  order  to 
enable  him  to  celebrate  the  praises  of  the  omnipotent 
Deity  in  a  suitable  manner,  and  in  a  perpetual  strain  of 
praise  and  adoration ;  all  of  these  breathe  so  true  and  un- 
affected a  spirit  of  piety,  that  they  seem  in  some  meas- 
ure to  approach  the  excellence  of  the  sacred  poetry. 

The  hymn  of  David,  which  I  have  just  mentioned, 
deservedly  occupies  the  first  place  in  this  class  of  poems; 
that  which  comes  nearest  to  it,  as  well  in  the  conduct  of 
the  poem  as  in  the  beauty  of  the  style,  is  another  of  the 
same  author.  It  celebrates  the  omniscience  of  the  Deity, 
and  the  incomparable  art  and  design  displayed  in  the 
formation  of  the  human  body  ;  if  it  be  excelted  (as  per- 
haps it  is)  by  the  former  in  the  plan,  disposition,  and  ar- 
rangement of  the  matter,  it  is  however  not  in  the  least 
inferior  in  the  digniQr  and  elegance  g[  the  figures  and 
imagery : 

»  See  Cqawobtb,  InteOect.  SjftUm.  page  432,  or  H.  Stusjjt,  PmiAh 

JPhUo9oph. 


LVCT.  39;  Tftfi  IDYIXIUM^  4^, 

PSALM    CXXXIX. 

M  Thou,  Lord,  hast  searched  me  out,  thine  eyes 
<<  Mark  when  I  sit,  and  when  I  rise ; 
<<  By  thee  my  future  thoug;hts  are  read  ; 
*<  Thou  round  my  path,  and  round  my  bed^ 
^  Attendest  vigilant ;  each  word, 
<*  £^e  yet  I  speak,  by  thee  is  heard. 
<<  Life's  maze,  before  my  riew  outspread» 
<<  Within  thy  presence  wrapt  I  tread, 
^  And  touch'd  with  conscious  horror  stand 
^<  Beneath  the  shadow  of  thy  hand. 
^  How  deep  thy  knowledge,  Lord,  how  widt  I 
«  Long  to  the  fruitless  task  applied, 
<<  That  mighty  sea  my  thoughts  explore, 
«  Nor  reach  its  depth,  nor  find  its  shore.  , 

«  Where  shall  I  shun  thy  wakeful  eye, 
^  Or  whither  from  thy  spirit  fly  ? 
«  Aloft  to  heaven  my  course  I  bear ; 
^  In  vain ;  fi>r  thou,  my  Gkxl,  art  there  : 
<<  If  prone  to  hell  my  feet  descend, 
^  Thou  still  my  footsteps  shalt  attend  t 
<<  If  now,  on  swiftest  wings  upborne, 
**  I  seek  the  regions  of  the  mom, 
**  Or  haste  me  to  the  western  steep, 
<<  Where  eve  uts  brooding  o'er  the  deep; 
«  Thy  hand  the  fugitive  shall  stay, 
<<  And  dictate  to  my  steps  their  way. 
**  Perchance  within  its  thickest  veil 
<<  The  darkness  shall  my  head  conceal :  ' 

«  But,  instant,  thou  hast  chas'd  away 
<<  The  gloom,  and  round  me  pour'd  the  day. 
^  Darkness,  great  God !  to  thee  there's  none ; 
«  Darkness  uid  light  to  thee  are  one; 
<<  Nor  brighter  shines,  to  thee  displayed, 
**  The  noon,  than  night's  obscurest  shade. 
<*  My  reins,  my  fabric's  ev'ry  part, 
^  The  wonders  of  thy  plastic  art 
^  Proclaim,  and  prompt  my  willing  tongue 
^^  To  meditate  the  grateful  song  : 
^  With  deepest  awe  my  thoughts' their  frame 
52 


4X0  THE  IDYLLIUM.  LacT.d9. 

«  Surveja-^  I  tremble  thtt  I  HA." 

«  While  yet  a  stmnger  to  the  day 

«  Within  the  burthen'd  womb  I  lay, 

^  My  bones,  familiar  to  tby  view, 

«  By  just  degrees  to  firmness  grew  i 

«  Day  to  succeeding  day  coasign'd 

»  Tb*  unfinished  birth  i  thy  mighty  mind 

«  Each  limb,  each  nerve,  e'er  yet  they  were^ 

<c  Contemplated,  distuict,  and  clear ; 

«  Those  nerves  thy  curious  finger  spun, 

«  Those  limbs  it  fashioo'd  one  by  one  ; 

«  And,  as  thy  pen  in  fair  design 

«  Trac'd  on  thy  book  each  shadowy  llnet 

<«  Thy  handmaid  Nature  read  them  there, 

^  And  made  the  growing  work  her  care  ; 

M  Conformed  it  to  th*  unerring  plan, 

<*  And  gradual  wrought  m«  into  man. 

«  With  what  delight,  great  God,  I  trace 
«  The  acts  of  thy  siupendoos  grace  1 
<<  To  count  them,  were  to  count  the  sand 
M  That  lies  upon  the  sea-beat  strand, 
w  When  from  my  temples  sleep  retires, 
^  To  thee  my  thankful  heart  aspires, 
<<  And  with  thy  sacred  presence  blest, 
<<  Joys  to  receive  the  awful  guest. 
«  Shall  impious  men  thy  will  withstand, 
«  Nor  feel  the  vengeance  of  thy  hand  ? 
«  Hence,  murth'rers,  hence,  nor  near  me  stay  i 
«  Ye  sons  of  Violence,  away  I 
«  When  lawless  crowds,  with  insult  vain, 
«  Thy  works  revile,  tby  name  proCsne, 
«<  Can  I  unmov'd  those  insults  see, 
M  Nor  hate  the  wretch  that  hateth  thee  ? 
«  Indignant,  in  thy  cause  I  join, 
^  And  all  thy  foes,  my  God,  are  mine. 
<<  Searcher  of  hearu,  my  thoughtt  review ; 
«<  With  kind  seventy  pursue 
«<  Through  each  disguise  thy  servant's  mind, 
M  Nor  leave  one  stain  of  guilt  behind. 
«  Guide  through  th'  eternal  path  my  feet, 
^  And  bring  me  to  thy  blissful  seat*' 


OP  DRAMATIC  POETRY. 

LECTURE  XXX. 

THE  SOira  OP  SOLOMON  NOT  A  REGULAR  DRAMA. 

The  Plfttonic  diTisim  of  Poetyy  into  the  oairatiTey  dranuUic,  and  mixed 
kinds,  of  little  use ;  but  deserves  to  be  noticed  on  this  occasion,  »s  leadr 
ing  to  an  accurate  definition  of  Dramatic  Poetry,  and  clearing  up  the  am- 
Uguitj  in  vhich  the  term  bw  been  inTolved  by  the  moderos— Two  spe- 
(Hes  pointed  out :  the  lesser,  which  possesses  only  the  Ibrm  of  dialoifue» 
without  the  personal  intervention  of  the  poet ;  and  the  greater,  which 
«OBtainp  a  piot  or  fable— There  are  exjtant  some  instances  of  the  former 
m  the  writings  of  the  Hefafews  ;  but  mme  of  their  prodiietioiis  seem  to 
have  the  least  title  to  the  latter  character,  two  perhaps  excepted ;  the 
6ong  of  Solomon,  and  the  Book  of  Job— Inquiry,  whether  the  Song  of 
BolooMm  contain  a  complete  plot  or  ftble— It  is  an  Eplthalamium :  tho 
characters  which  are  represented  in  it :  the  poem  founded  upon  the  nup« 
tial  rites  of  the  Hebrews— The  opinion  of  Bossuet  cited  and  explained ; 
namely,  that  this  poem  is  a  representation  of  the  seven  days  of  festival 
which  succeeded  the  marriage,  and  consequently  consists  of  seven  parts 
or  divisions^This  opinion  the  moat  fovouxable  of  all,  to  those  who  ac- 
count this  poem  a  regular  Drama :  it  however  does  not  prove,  that  it 
contains  a  complete  plotor  fable— DefiniUpn  of  a  Dramatic  Fable— Nothp 
ing  like  it  in  the  Song  of  Solomon :  it  is  therefore  not  a  perfect  ^ramn, 
>ut  is  of  the  lesser  class  of  Dramatic  poems — ^The  chorus  of  Virgins 
bears  a  great  analogy  to  the  chorus  of  the  Greek  tragedies ;  but  could 
n^t  serve  as  a  model  for  them. 

X  HS  ancient  critics,  following  the  authority  of  Plato/ 
have  distributed  all  poetical  compositions,  according  to 
their  form  or  subject,  into  three  classes,  the  narrative, 
the  imitative  or  dramatic,  and  the  mixed.  This  arrange- 
ment is,  however,  not  of  much  use  on  the  whole  ;  it 
tieither  draws  a  perfect  line  of  distinction  between  the 

I  See  Pl4T.  De  Rep.  lib.  liL 


412  DRAMATIC  POETRY.  Lkct.  30. 

different  species  of  poems,  nor  serves  to  define  or  explain 
the  nature  and  form  of  any.     There  is  scarcely  any  spe- 
cies of  poem  perfectly  simple  in  its  nature,  scarcely  any 
which  does  not  occasionally  unite  these  different  modes 
of  expression.     The  epic  indeed  may  be  said  to  exhibit 
almost  invariably  a  narration  of  the  mixed  kind ;  and  the 
dramatic  necessarily  assumes  the  imitative  fcnm.     But 
as  other  poems  may  adopt  freely  the  mixed  narraUon ; 
so  I  do  not  see  any  just  reason  why  they  should  be  ab- 
solutely prohibited  from  assuming  the  dramatic  form. 
Custom,  however,  we  find  has  so  far  prevailed,  that  al* 
though  the  style  and  manner  dops  not  seem  necessarily 
appropriated  to  any  particular  subject  whatever,  the  name 
at  least  of  dramatic  has  been  generally  received  as  dis- 
tinguishing a  particular  species  of  poetry.    The  present 
object  of  inquiry  is,  therefore,  what  specimens  of  this 
species  of  composition  are  extant  in  the  writings  of  the 
Hebrews :  and  in  the  very  first  stage  of  our  investigation, 
some  degree  of  caution  will  be  required,  lest  the  ambi- 
guity of  the  t^i^m,  asi  it  has  been  used  by  the  modemSi 
should  mislead  or  perplex  us. 

The  term  dramatic  poetr)',  as  I  before  observed,  is 
now  restricted  to  tnq  particular  spieces  of  composition, 
tragedy  and  comedy.  It  was  originally,  however,  of 
t^ucYi  more  extensive  signification ;  it  regarded  simply 
the  external  form  ;  it  was  properly  applied  to  every  po- 
em composed  in  dialogue,  provided  that,  throughout  the 
whole,  the  conversation  was  carried  on  by  the  characters 
themselves,  without  the  intervention  of  the  poet»'    This 

3  The  nature  of  this  appropriatioflL  of  a  general  term  w^ill  perhiqM  be  bet. 
ter  explained,  by  brif  tlj-  adverting  to  tlie  History  of  the  Theatre.  In  fact, 
thcr^  U  scarcely  any  circnmstanee*  in  wkieh  the^gradnal  progress  of  human 
intention  is  more  c^templiiieda  than  in  the  origin  and  improvement  of  tbe 
Greek  drama.  It  was  originally  nothing  more  than  a  rude  song,  exhibited 
by  one  or  more  clown Isli  minstrels  or  ballad^ingers,  who  disfigured  lliem- 


lbct.  9o;  dhamatic  poetry.  4id 

mode  of  composition  is  exemplified  in  several  of  the 
Bucolics  of  Theocritus  and  Virgil,  and  in  some  of  the 
Satires  of  Horace,  and  in  two  of  his  Odes,  In  order^ 
therefore,  to  examine  the  subject  more  accurately,  it 
will  be  proper  to  distinguish  two  species  of  dramatic 
poems ;  the  lesser,  in  which,  by  means  of  dialogue  or 
characters,  the  manners,  passions,  and  actions  of  men» 
are  imitated  or  delineated ;  and  the  greater,  which  con- 
tains, moreover,  a  plot  or  fable,  that  is,  the  representa- 
tion of  some  incident  or  transaction  of  life,  regular  or 
complete,  in  which  events  succeed  each  other  in  a  con- 
nected series,  and  which  after  various  and  interesting 
vicissitudes  is  wrought  up  to  a  perfect  conclusion.  This 
latter  species  includes  both  tragedy  and  comedy ;  and 
as  the  plot  or  fable  distinguishes  them  from  the  inferior 
species  of  dramatic  poetry,  so  the  perfect  form  of  dia- 
logue serves  to  draw  the  line  between  them  and  the  epic, 
There  are  abundant  examples  of  the  former  species 
of  dramatip  poetry  manifestly  extant  in  the  writings  of 
the  Hebrews ;  apd  perhaps  there  are  many  others,  which 
we  have  not  discovered  to  be  of  this  kind.'    The  sud- 

sdves  to  excite  attention.  ThetpU  collected  a  company  of  them  together, 
and  transported  them  from  Tillage  to  villagfe  in  a  kind  of  waggon  ;  and 
something  like  this  state  of  the  drama  we  see  in  the  rude  exhibitions  of 
Mummer 9  and  Mbrrice-dancert  in  the  inland  parts  of  this  kin^om.  Thes- 
pis  added  to  the  singers  an  interlocutor,  who  served  to  explain  the  matter 
of  the  songs  ;  and  in  this  state  the  drama  continued,  till  an  accident  brought 
it  to  greater  perfection.  In  the  representation  of  a  tragedy,  in  which  the 
Furies  were  exhibited,  the  barbarous  dresses  of  the  chorus  (which  consist-, 
ed  of&fiy  persons)  frighted  the  pregnant  women  into  fits.  Hence  JEschylus 
was  induced  to  retrench  the  number  of  the  chorus,  and  to  make  up  for  tlie 
deficiency,  added  to  the  actors  or  interlocutors.  He  erected  a  stage,  and 
ornamented  it  with  machinery  ;  and  equipped  the  actors  with  the  robe,  the. 
buskin  and  the  mask.  See  more  upon  this  subject  in  Essayt  Btitoricak 
and  M^ral,  by  the  translator  of  these  Lectures.    Ess.  i.    T. 

3  Our  author  has  treated  with  his  usual  modesty  a  very  difficult  subject :« 
on  which,  those  who  have  been  more  adventurous  ha%*e  been  led  into  great 
errors.    It  is  certain  that  many  of  the  Psalms  are  dramatic,  which  uonK, 


4U  DRAMATIC  POETRT.  Ls€7«  30. 

den  change  of  persons,  when  by  the  vi^iemence  of  ps^ 
SAon  the  author  is  led,  as  it  were  insencdbly,  from  the 
narration  of  an  event  to  the  imitation  or  acting  of  it,  la 

commenUUm  observing»  deligfaUd  with  their  own  discoTeries»  wbaKTo 
they  met  with  a  pusage  more  difficult  than  usual»  or  were  able  to  catch 
any  new  and  visionary  explanation»  mone  agreeable  to  their  theological  no* 
taoos»  they  hare  eagerly  resorted  to  the  change  of  the  persons  or  ch«nc« 
ters»  though  no  such  change  existed.  Such  are  those  commentators  who 
have  fanci^  in  accommodation  to  the  quotation  of  St.  Paul»  Hxb.  L  10, 
the  spirit  and  purpose  of  wluch  they  did  not  understand»  that  the  fbnncr  pact 
of  the  ciid  Ps.  to  the  ^th  vene :  **  Take  me  not  away  m  the  midstof  my  ag^"* 
consisted  entirely  of  a  speech  of  Christ»  and  that  the  remunder  ;  '*  as  for 
thy  years»  they  endure  throughout  all  generations»"  &c.  was  the  r^ly  of 
God  the  Father.  Whoow  indulges  himself  in  this  mode  of  esplkataoi^ 
«ay  easily  6nd  out  any  thing  he  pleases  in  the  Psalms»  and  with  little  tm 
no  philological  knowledge»  without  the  smallest  assistance  from  criticism» 
can  g^ve  a  meaning  even  to  the  most  diffictilt  or  corrupted  tezta  of  Scrip* 
tore :  any  meaning  indeed  but  the  right  one. 

Our  author  very  justly  su^wrfs»  that  not  a  fiew  passages  of  the  dramatic 
kind  are  at  present  unknown :  yet  we  are  not  allowed  to  suppose  an  ode  of 
the  dramatic  kind»  unless  it  appear  so  by  some  decisive  proof ;  nor  ought 
we  to  fly  to  this  discoveiy  as  a  refuge  for  our  ignoMnoe.  For*  as  many 
passages  may  probably  be  of  the  dramatic  kind  which  we  do  not  know  to 
be  such»  so,  many  may  be  accounted  dramatic»  which  a  little  mon  philo- 
logical  knowledge»  or  the  true  reading»  which  antiquity  may  have  obaei» 
cd»  would  point  out  to  be  simple  and  r^;tilar  ogpposttiooa.  In  ocsder  t» 
demonstrate  how  cautious  commentators  ought  to  be  in  these  lespects,  I 
shall  have  recourse  to  one  example»  whence  we  shall  be  able  to  judge  hpw 
uncertain  many  others  are»  however  they  may  bear  a  face  of  probability. 

The  second  Psauc  has  been  accounted  one  of  the  principal  of  the  dra« 
matic  kind»  and  scarcely  any  person  has  doubted  of  its  being  altogether 
dramatic.  |f  you  attend  to  some  commentators»  the  holy  prophet  speak* 
in  the  1st  and  2d  verses ;  in  tlie  3d  the  rebellious  princes  $  in  the  4th  and 
^th  the  prophet  again ;  in  the  6th  God ;  in  the  7th  and  8th  the  anointed 
king ;  in  the  XOth»  11th»  and  12lh  the  holy  prophet  It  is  very  extraorc 
dinary  that  they  should  not  see»  that  it  is  not  the  rebellious  princes  who 
speak  in  the  third  verse»  but  that  their  words  are  only  referred  to  by  the 
prophet»  and  that»  according  to  the  manner  of  the  Orientals»  without  di- 
rectly identifying  the  speaker.  Nothing  is  more  common  in  the  Arabic 
poetT}',  than  to  relate  the  actions  and  sentiments  of  particuW  persona» 
and  to  annex  their  very  words  without  any  preface»  of  «o^'n/»  or  he  •aid^ 
ts.z.  It  does  not  even  appear  that  God  is  introduced  as  a  dramatic  char- 
acter» for  if  so,  what  is  the  use  of  the  words^-*"  He  shall  speak  unto  them 
\\\  his  wrath,"  &c.  \    M. 


LxcT.  do.  DRAMATIC  POETRY.  411 

frequent  fai  the  Hebrew  poetry ;  but  soiHetitnes  the  gen- 
uine dranlatic,  or  dialogue  form,  is  quite  apparent,  and 
the  pa&sage  will  admit  of  no  other  explanation.  The 
tWenty-foorth  Psalm  is  evidently  of  this  kind,  relating, 
as  I  formerly  endeavoured  to  prove,  to  the  transferring 
of  the  ark  to  Mount  Sion ;  and  the  whole  of  the  tranak 
action  is  exhibited  in  a  theatrical  manner,  though  the 
dialogue  is  not  fully  obvious  tiU  towards  the  conclusion 
of  the  poem.  That  remarkable  passage  of  Isaiah  also, 
deserves  notice  on  this  occasion,  in  which  the  Messiah, 
coming  to  vengeance,  is  introduced  conversing  with  a 
chorus  as  on  a  theatre : 

Cho.    «  Who  is  this,  that  cometh  from  Edom  ? 

^  With  garments  deeply  died  from  Botsra  i 

(<  This,  that  ia  magnificent  in  his  apparel ; 

<<  Marching  (»  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength  ? 
Msa.   ^  Ij  who  publish  righteousness,  and  am  mighty  to  save* 
Cho.    <*  Wherefore  is  thine  apparel  red  ? 

<«  And  thy  garments,  as  of  one  that  treadeth  the  wine-vat  5 
Mes.   ^  I  have  trodden  the  vat  alone  ; 

<<  And  of  the  peoples  there  was  not  a  man  with  me. 

<<  And  I  trod  them  in  mine  anger ; 

^  And  I  trampled  them  in  mine  indignadon  s 

«  Aad  their  life-blood  was  aprinklel  upon  my  garments ; 

<«  And  I  have  suined  all  my  apparel* 

"  For  the  day  of  vengeance  was  in  my  heart; 

«  And  the  year  of  my  redeemed  was  come. 

^  And  I  looked,  and  there  was  no  one  to  help ; 

«  And  I  was  astonbhed,  that  there  waa  no  one  to  uphold : 

«  Therefore  mme  own  arm  wrought  salvation  for  me^ 

^  And  mine  indignadon  itself  sustained  me* 

<<  And  I  trod  down  the  peoples  in  mine  anger ; 

<<  And  I  crushed  them  in  mine  indignation ; 

<<  And  I  spilled  their  life-blood  on  the  grouad/'^ 

4  IiA.  Ixiii  l-^.  •»  Vcr.  1,  after  «m  in  one  MS.  in  fte  margin  mrh  is 
"  added.  It  is  read  natDrt,  in  one  MS.  with  the  demonstrative  article  an- 
*•  nexed.  Alfio  n|mt,  without  a  prefixed  in  one  MS.  so  the  LXX.  and  the 
"  VuLo.  It  is  read  an^  with  i  prefixed  in  thirty-one  MSB.  so  tibe  LXX* 
«  St»,  Vum. 


416  URAMATIC  P0£TRV.  Lect.  ^. 

The  hundred  and  twenty-first  Psalm  is  of  the  same 
kind  ;  and  as  it  is  both  concise  and  elegant;  I  shall  quote 
it  at  large.  The  king,  apparently  going  forth  to  battle, 
first  approaches  the  ark  of  God  upon  Mount  Sion,  and 
humbly  implores  the*  Divine  assilstance,  on  which  alone 
he  professes  to  rest  his  confidence  : 

<<  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  mouutaiDS» 
<<  Whence  cometh  my  succour. 
'     «  My  succour  is  from  Jbhovah^  * 

«  Who  made  the  beaveM  «nd  tjhe  earth.*' 

The  high-priest  answers  him  from  the  tabernacle : 

«  He  will  not  suffer  thy  foot  to  stumble  ; 

^  He  that  preserveth  thee  will  not  slumber ; 

^  Beholdy  he  will  neither  slumber  nor  sleep  ; 

«  He  who  preserveth  IsraeL 

"  Jehovah  will  preserve  thee  ; 

<<  Jehovah  will  shade  thee  with  his  right  hand. 

<^The  sun  shall  not  injure  thee  by  day, 

<<  Nor  the.moon  by  night. 

<<  Jehovah  will  preserve  thee  from  all  evil ; 

«  He  will  preserve  thy  soul. 

^  Jehovah  will  preserve  thy  going  out  and  thy  coming  in, 

^  From  this  time  forth  for  ever  and  ever." 

Thus  much  will  suffice  for  that  inferior  species  of 
dramatic  poetry,  or  rather  that  dramatic  form  which 
may  be  assumed  by  any  species  of  poem;  The  more 
perfect  and  regular  drama,  that  I  mean  which  consists 

"  Ver.  2.  It  is  OTTic  in  twenty-eight  MSS.  and  three  edit  TJi^aVb,  pla- 
*' ral' in  twenty-one  MS8.  so  theLXX.  Ste.  for  the  first  bread  O,  according 
*'  to  all  the  old  translations. 

"  Ver.  3.  It  is  read  os^nk,  without  i  prefiked;  in  two  MSS.  so  Srti. 
«*  Vwi.0.    For  '*nVlOlf  in  one  MS.  irrViON. 

«'Ver.  4.    rov,  without  i  prefixed,  in  thicty  MSS.  and  three  edit.    So 

<«  VULO. 

•*  Ver.  5.  For  *nDm  seven  MSS.  and  thre«  edit  have  *npfin.    Sec  chap. 

«'  lix.  16.  .                 '     . 

*'  Ver..  6.  For  DtDwn  Jvad.D'ldvin  «s  occurs  in  twenjt^re  MSS.  .and 

<<  one  edit"  K. 


iMcr.  30.  DRAMATIC  POETRY.  41t 

<tf  a  plot  or  bble,  wHl  detnanda  moi^  ekborate  inVesd^ 
gstion* 

There  are  onfy  two  poems  extas^aiaong  the  writings 
oCtfae  Hebrews  which  eiii^  on  the  present  oocaraHH  at 
wSl  be  brought  into  question,  the  Song  ci  Sdooion»  waA 
the  book  of  Job ;  both  eminent  in/  the  highest  degree 
for  elegance,  sublimity,  and  I  ^Mk  worry  to  add  obscuri* 
Pf  also.  Thealmost  infinite  bboors  of  the  learned  have 
kft  us  but  tittle  new  to  svjr  upon  tUs  subject;  I  shall^ 
liowever,  proceed  to  inquire,  with  some  degree  of  mr-» 
BOteness,  into  the  form  and  structure  of  each  of  these 
pdtmb,  and  into  the>reasons  which  may  be  aUedged  in 
finrour  of  iheir  datm  to  the  appeUation  of  regular  dnH 
mas.  The  opinions  of  other  critics  shall  not  pass  un- 
regarded, if  any  remarks  or  even  conjectures  occurp* 
which  may  be  likely  to  throw  any  light  upon  the  present 
subject,  or  to  explain  or  illustrate  their  fMincipal  beau*; 
ties. 

The  Song  of  Songs  (for  so  it  is  entitled  either  on  ac-^ 
count  of  the  excellence  of  the  subject,,  or  erf*  the  comh 
pomtion)  is  an  epithalamium,  or  nuptial  dialogue ;  or 
rather,  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  give  it  a  title  more  a[« 
greeable  to  the  genius  of  the  Hebrew,  a  Sang  nf  Lover  J^ 
It  is  expressive  of  the  utmost  fervour  as  well  as  the  ut- 
most delicacy  of  passion,  it  is  instinct  with  all  the  spirit 
and  all  the  sweetness  of  affirction.  The  principal  char-» 
acters  are  Solomon  himself  and  hi^  bride,  who  are  rep* 
resented  speaking  both  in  dialogue,  and  in  soliloquy 
when  accidentally  separated.  Virjgind  also,  the  com- 
panions of  the  bride,  are  introduced,  who  seem  to  be 
CQOslaiitly  upon  the  sti^,  and  bear  a  part  in  the  dia- 
logue: mention  too  is  made  of  young  men,  friends  of 
the  bridegroom,  but  they  are  mute  persons/    This  is 

«•iidi]9tlietiUeofPt.alT.        •  C4itT.  ?.  1.    yiU.  13.    Seein.r-^IT^ 

53 


«I»  DRAMA/TIC  FOETmU  Lm««.  aOL 

«kaoAj  otrnfioMiabie  to  tkiimaiinirs  of.  ffie  Httbnevi^ 
who  had  always  a  number  of  companions  to  the  .biidctf 
li;mthr  tbthf  Tifniirhtim  vem/pieqeotin  Hoooor  of  Sam- 
tan^  at -Ins  nuptial  feasu^  In^nfae  New  Tcsfeaincnty  ai^ 
Warding  to  tKd  Hebreir  idtonu  ibef  are^oaUed  ^*  ebildrrtr 
(oc  sons)  oft&ft  brideHchambor/'*  and  :''  Mettds  x£  thb 
bnrisgtodfb  ;"^-  tkurc  too  Ivfo  find  memion  of  ten  vir-^ 
ginsi  W1k>  Went  fhr^  tahfeettfie  bride|frooii»  and  torn 
^iMatHax  kaqife  :^  Arikkk  chtmmlaMcaf  I  tJhtnlt,  indi' 
cate  thai  tfaid.pfxtni  isifbunded.opbD.tfe  nttpteal  rteftdT 
tbe.Ucbre^  aid  isiespvcssfiTe  cf  il»  fiirais  or  cemoMN 
niaE  frf  thbir  infrriagfcai  In  DhviOfiinHai,  iodc^d^ilbe 
hagteorty"  cf  tommeiitacw»  b  n^Dlen  ieraadBaUei  ttnsl 

7jirD.  xlv.ll/  »  JoHH.  iii.  29^  «Ma^.  ix.i5. 

10  LiGBTPooT  on  Matt.  iBid.  *  n'l^gAui.  xlv.  15. 

1«  It  may  seem,  a  !>old  artdcrtaking,  to  contradict  the  opinion  of'  all  the 
cAtfnnHitBtbrB  #fcl«%  I^m  ^^eii  io  to^ip  ^sttlftiMied,.Mt<tJ)e  ifrioeipal  p^- 
•onaget  of  the  Cmticks  are  a  Mde  asd  bridegroom  dtirb^  tlie  nupttU 
wtxk.  As  I- cannot,  bowcTcr,  neeoncile  t)ie  matter  to  my  mind,  I^hall 
Sricfly  assign  (He  i^easdn^  of  xfay  cnsfteiit  from  this  6ptnion;  The  flr^  is» 
tNldb  H*  dMct  Jtteiftita  ii  Huide»  durili^  the  cifnMt  of  tiik  l<iiig  poem»  df  Utift 
Q^fentoH^  of  m^ni^^  ^nor  pf  kpy  one  of  the  clrctunstaneeiK  which  attend 
that  cercninny.  Again»  4'hq  can  possibly  imagine  a  bridegrooih  so  neces- 
Sltatci  \^  \'d\ib\bf,  sii  noi  t^'  Wablfe  t6  appltipridt^  a'  fc#  dayi  iA  his  nujrtij 
\ittk;  tjtik!  ceiebrittiaiD  of,  bis  milage :  but  be  oonipeUed  ittmridlatrfy^ 
guit  his  spouse  an4  his  fjriend^  for  whole  days,  in  order  to  attend  his  eaV 
tte  in  ttie  pastures  ?  ^ay,  at  this  lime  of  festival,  he  even  does  not  retunt 
ilitSilkt)  (Alt  leaves  hi6  Brld^,  t6  Whom  he  appears  to  ihuch  aitacbM«  denl 
and  ^iflt^^y^  Qr  if  «id£(  instancfea  niight  occur  in  pariicuUr  cailes,  cok^ 
tainly  tV.e;;  i^o  rot  alTord  a  prepei;  subject  for  a  auptial  song.  At  the  same 
time,  tH  trirl'fgfooW  ik  *8uppV)sc4"(o  Hare  tRe  care  of  a  vineyatd,  and  his 
rUrO^etst  l&d  dl^pX^iB^d  wjtit'hitti  fdf'hiA^g  neglected. iti  t  'ti^  \i  BO  eotfnu 
rv  Xo  every 'idea  of  nuptial  &stifity,  that  unless  we  could  suppoce  it  meant 
in  the  way  of  burlesque,  it  is  impossible  to  c<inceir&  it  to  have  any  relation 
to  thfe  Cehbrutiou  of  i'mah'iiige.  ' 

;t1»en  j»  itill  kas  remon^tothijiki  tiiat  tbe  poem  ;r«Ute8  to.  ihc  itate  of 
tlie  partlefi  betrothed  jl>efoi;e,  marriages  and  there  are  not  the  smallest 
grounds  for  supposing  St  tlie  description  of  any  clandestine  amour,  since 
the  tnmiaction  is  de§cf|»cd  as  phbfia  and  legal»  laid  theotthsditof  ptreBts 
is  very  plainly  intimat^  '.•,,,. 


jmmtimt  of  die  work»  m4  tKe  Di^  AiKf^gi^rWgpip^nt;  ^f 
tioror,  is;«*ly.iyMtter  MQF  plot  jcyr  f«Mc  4^;cpfMMim4  pr 

icdgod,  and»  stthottr  Miboi»  «iii^i^itp  tw^  M^I^Tevfjr  l|e 
-^spbiri/hts  MillMMitpMMffl»«ng!li«<^ 

iriaim  to  ibe  tUb  4f.aM0»l»r^ 
I/iit  is  agrttd  MnU  f^h  ttotltlK.pqptii^ ^aa^^fi^  W/^ 

hebdamadaL^^  Of  lb».oir/i;um»tm()e..jiA'  J^^  iMji 
availed  himse^iiia  llh^9n4y«atMP  4f<  /1«^«^  W  be 
accordingly  divides  ilie  wbole  iaio  sswea  /fiarts»  enrres* 
ponding  to  the  seven  days  of  its  stipposcd  duiation*^ 

It  ]i|^|i|n«|  ih^ftfofp  ip  ^^A^  n^  pwn  senibne|U9^  f^d  ijiese  «re,  thft 
the  chaste  passions  of  conjugfal  and  domestic  life  are  detcril>ed  in  this  p9- 
cin«  and  that  it  has  no  relation  to  the  celebration  of  nuptiaU.  It  m^  aedii 
improbable  to  some  i^dfir8«  tt^^t  conjugal  upd  dox^eatjc  life  #hoi^d. afford 
a  subject  for  aiLamoroifs  ppy^ra  ;  but  those  reader^  have  not  reflecte/1  how 
m^teriallx  the  ip^nners  of  the  Orientals  are  different  from  ours.  Domestic 
li4  anionic  as  is,  in  -{genera]»  a  ci^  and  settled  state,  void  of  difficulties, 
IQBrpltsi^^,  f ufgifippsj  j^  «tfijTf»*  ff^^  f  i»tate  yi^  t^iis  rarely  affpr<^ 
mf ^t^  for  su9h  a  poem,  ^ut  in  the  E^t,  from  the  nature  of  pQlygarmf^ 
that  state  admits  -more  of  the  perplexities,  jealousies,  plbts,  and  artikces  of 
ftove  r  4lie  soene  is  soom  vaned,  thene  is  mora  of  norditj,  land  coflROqcntl^ 

^s.Sj^  aossvsT.  ?*r^f.  &  Comment,  in  C47T. 

14  See  Gxjr.  zxiz.  27.    Xvs.  xiv.  12. 

u  In  ad^ifion  lo  what  I  remar^d  ai^e,-  there  is  tl|js  circumstance^ 
which  miUtatfss  sg»in9tjthe  conjecture  of  Bossuet,  nsfyiely,  tlpt,  ti.oij^Jli 
the  nuptial  banquet  continues  for  seven  days,  no  time  i^ppe^s  influ9pM:in 
appto^rialed  to  the  banquet  itaelf.  Either  the  bride  and  bridegroom  are 
separated  fr«m»  v4  i»  qH(^^  ^  ^*^  other,  or  they  ase  ejiJ9yui|:^  wi^^d- 


490  DRAMATIC  POETKr.  Lttcr.  90. 

The  vicisntudes  of  day  and  n^g^  are  marked  with  some 
degree  of  distinctness ;  he  therefore  makes  use  of  these 
as  indexes,  to  point  to  the  true  diviaioQ  of  die  parts» 
The  nuptial  banquet  being  condaded,  the 'bride  is  iod 
in  the  evening  to  her  future  husband ;   and  here  com- 
mences the  nuptial  week ;  for  the  Hebrews,  m  thdr  ae- 
count  of  time,  begin  always  at  the  evening.^    The 
bridegroom,  who  is  repreaented  in  ^  ohaiacter  of  a 
diepherd,  goes  foith  early  in  the  momiiig  to  the  aocos* 
tomed  occupations  of  a  rural  and  pasumliiie ;  the  bride 
presently  awaking,  and  impatient  of  his  absence,  breaiBi 
out  into  a  80likx|uy  Ml  of  tendamcaa  aad  anxiety,  and 
this  incident  forms  the  ezordwn  of  the  pxuu    The 
eariy  departure  of  the  'bridegrooQi  aecms  to  be  accord* 
ing  to  custom ;  hence  that  procaMion  so  frequently  and 
so  anxiously  i"epeated  not  to  disturb  hb  betoved ; 
'**-<*(  adjure  .yott,  O  ye  daofcten  of  Jerasalenb 

(•Afttottoesiadtlieliiiidaof.tlie^feldf  . 

^  Tim  je  ^btorb  nail  i^tilier  Aw^ke 

^  The  beloved,  'ull  herself  be  inclined/'i^ 

Nor  less  frequent  is  the  following  exclamation  of  the 
.Virgins  ;  . 

^  Who  is  she,  rising^  up  out  of  the  desert  I 

^<  Who  is  she,  that  is  seen  like  the  morning  1"^* 

In  these  terms  they  seem  to  greet  the  bride  when  she 
first  comes  out  of  her  chamber :  and  these  several  ex» 
pressions  have  some  allusion  to  the  early  time  of  the 
morning.  The  night  is  also  sometimes  moitioned  in 
direct  terms,^  and  scmietimes  it  is  indirectly  denoted  by 
circumstances.^     If  therefore  any  reader,  admitting 

for  solitude ;  and  whenever  ihcy  converse  with  the  Virgins,  it  is  in  the 
street  or  in  the  field,  and  never  with  the  guests,  or  at  a  banquet    M. 
»*  Sec  GiH.  i.  5,  8ic. 

»▼  Chap.  li.  7.  iii.  5,  viii,  4.  »  Chap,  ill  6.  viii.  5.  vL  10, 

St  Chap,  ill  1.  T,  3.  SB  Chsp.  U.  S.  tiu.  3. 


Lbm.  Sdi  nUMATIC  POCTKT.  ifll 

die&e  indicatkms  of  time,  wiU  cwefuUy  attend  toihem, 
he  cannot,  I  thiftk,.  but  perceive,  duit  the^Whole  of  the 
wopk  consbta  of  seven  parts  or  divisions,  each  of  which 
occupies  the  space  of  a  daj/^  The  saaMr  critic  adds^ 
limt  he  can  dia»over  d»  last  day  to  be  «teariy  diatin. 
gvished  as  the  sabbath ;  for  the  bridegroom  does  not 
Aen,  as  usual,  gofortti  tohtsrufalemplognneots,  but 
proceeds  from  die  marriage-chamber  into  pobliG  with 
his  bride.^  Sucb  are  the  sentiments  of  ttua  learned  |)er« 
son  ;  to  which  I  aaa- inclined  to  accede,  not  as  .absdofb 
^omonstrationi  but  asa  very  ingeiuous  and  pubbable  coop. 
jecture  upon  an  Mmeaeiy  obscure  sofaycM :  I  fdlow 
them  therejbre  as  a  glMsmering  of  light,  which  beams 
fiMth  in  the  raadst  of  darkness,  where  it  would  beaknoat 
unreasonable  to  hope  for  any  clearer  illuminarion. 

This  opinicm  i&the  naost  ftvourable  of  aH  to  those 
vrhoaocounttheSongofSobmoa  a  regular  drama;  for 
this  arrangement  seeaasto*dispbiy,  in  some  nieaaore,  the 
order  and  method  of  a  theatrical  representation.  But  if 
they  make  use  of  the  term  dramadc  according  to  the 
common  acceptatibn  of  the  word,  tins  poem  must  be 
supposed  to  contain  a  fable,  or  entire  «id  perfect  plot  or 
action,  of  a  moderate  extent,  in  which  the  incidents  are 
all  connected,  and  proceed  regulariy  from  one  another, 
and  which,  after  several  vicissitudes,  is  brought  to  a  per» 
feet  conclusion.    But  certainly  the  bare  representation 

n  The  iaHi^wmg  i$  thtdittrUmtina  of  tbe  vork  wcosiUds  to  BomvbI  » 
IstDftj:    Chap*  I    /      *— -il        ^ 


2d     — 

:    Chap.  ii.       7,  — - 

17. 

3d     - 

1. 

4tli   — ; 

.    Chap.  ▼•      3, — »-Ti 

it. 

5th    — 

:    Ch^.  vi.    10, Tu. 

It 

6th'  — 

i 

7th  — *:    Chap.  TiiL    4^  ^-— 

14- 

«1  Chap.  via.  5L 

at  oxAVATiB  Pfwrnm  uct<49« 

(tfanufitUfartividcmiiDtmswyfffspf^  antM^rtotWi 

cd  in  tlio  ptrtiQular  lilft  md  MHprooQwa  oC  tbe  liebaMi 
laarriagca;  hut  we  have  no  raieon>ta  snmKNie,  ibptt  n 
their  oomnuMi  and  usmd  ftrm  they  ««re  poasmsed  tf 
weh  vaiie^  and  vicissitude  o(  fartames  aid  events,  an 
loaflSafdfBalKr^forBrtgufatfiilatDr^fc^  The  whole 
waaoiieevrntencmr  of  jof  ^)dltat«^itf.   Anuatapfietr: 
cd  inaidtntifliigltt  indeed  aanetimeaobmr  to  bUarroft 
the  ttsiial  aidnr^  ^  tof»MdiKMii«Mh.a  change  of  fiortyme» 
as  might ilE^rAa  bans  fi^r  a  ^nmalic  atinfy ;  aad.if  aap 
aneh  ineideni  ^i  to  be  fimnd  ia  Ae  paen  at  pmaent  nOr 
der  our  oohaidenitiDn,  i%  wili Mtadyliah  ita  duialD  thirt 
appeBatidn.    But  tlie  tvu^  is,  the  keenest  iiu^cilQn  cf 
criticiaaK  can,  thMoghoat  the:  whok,  discover  no  auob 
incident  or  citeuaastance ;  theatateof  affiuiaiauaifiirtn- 
}f  tbfi  same  firoo)  the  hegimung  tq  the  end ;  a  few  ligpt 
flnctuationa  of  paaBioii  eaKjepted,  aneh  aa  the  ^nziety  of 
absence,  and  the  anieaitjr  aoid  happinesaiwhich  the  lov» 
era  ei^oy  in  each  others  pieseaee.    The  fapide  iaotients 
the  atnenoe  of  her  beloved  ;*'  she  s^ka^  phe  finds  hint^ 
she  bi^ngs  hiqi  home ;   again  he  is  hist»  die  seeks  }i)ia 
again»  but  with  different  sMooesat  she  comfdain^  bs^ 
guishes»  indites  roessag^^  to  be  dd^veied  to  1»d,  she 
indulges  her  passion  in  a  fiill  and  animated  (jeacriptloa 
€i  bis  persop»     All  tins,  however,  'bears  no  nasemblanfie 
to  a  reguhur  plot,  nor  affords  the  piece  any  fairer  title  to 
the  appellation  of  a  perfect  drama,  than  the  Dramatic 
Eclogues  of  Theocritus  and  Vifjgil,  in  which  the  loves, 
the  amusements,  and  the  jemuj^tiiQqs  pf  sl^herds  are 
depicted,  and  wMch  uo-erttic  hasewr  okssed  with  the 
regular  fables  of  Euripides  add  Terence.     Thus  &r 
therefore  we  may  siaftly  iidnfit,  that  th^  Soogpf  Solomon 
possesses  indeed  the  dramatic  form»  and  th^in^QRe^he- 

S3  Chap.  iu.  and  v. 


LscT.  30.  DRAMATIC  POETRY.  4/iS 

longs  properly  to  that  inferior  species,  which  was  riien- 
tbned  in  the  former  part  of  thb  lecture ;  but  that  it  can« 
not)  upon  any  feir  grounds  of  reason»  be  accounted  a 
regular  drama. 

There  is  however  one  circumstance  in  which  this  po- 
em bears  a  vOrj  ntat  ai&hity  Vb  the  QkA  drama :  the 
chorus  of  virgins  seems  in  every  respect  congenial  to 
the  ttagfd  &iotn^  of  the  Gr^ks.    They  are  constamly 
present»  and  prepared  to  fulfil  all  the  duties  of  adviee 
and  consoktfiqn  :   they  converse  firequendy  with  the 
{NTineipal  chlufaeCeiBi  they  are  i^estioned  by  them,  and 
th^yt^u^n  answers  to  their  inquiries;  they  take  part 
in  the  whole  bushiess  of  the  poem,  and  I  do  not  find 
that  upon  any  ocoa!non  they  qiilt  the  scene.    Some  of 
the  lealrned  have  conjectured,  that  Theocritus,  who  was 
contemporary  with  the  seventy  Greek  translators  of  tlie 
scriptttfes,  and  lived  with  them  in  the  court  of  Ptolemy 
I^hiladelphus,  was  not  unacquainted  with  the  beauii^ 
of  this  poem,  and  that  he  has  almott  literally  introduced 
some  passages  from  it  into  his  elegant  Idylliums.^    U 
might  alpD  be  sutipQcttd,  that  tHe  Cireek  tn^;ediiui9  wei« 
indebted  for  their  chorus  to  this  poem  of  Solofoon,  weM 
not  the  probabilities  on  the  other  side  much  grtetef, 
that  the  Greeks  were  made  acquainted  with  it  at  txM 
late  a  period ;  afid  Were  it  not  evid^t^  diat  the  chortM 
of  the  Gr^ks  bad  a  very  different  origin,  weine  it  ii6t 
evident  indeed  that  the  chorus  was  not  added  to  the  fi- 
Ue,  hut  the  fable  to  the  chorus^^ 

^  Coitipu^  Caht.  L  fr.  vL  10,  with  Thioo.  xviiL  30,  26,  Cast.  iv.  11, 
yAih  TU0C.  Mk.  526,  bAWt.  Viii.  6,  ^,  with  Taxoc.  iziii.  33—26. 

u  See  Bote  C^)  <m  this  tieetore.  Thb  Uses  that  certshi  spologists  for 
Vhe  Greek  drama  have  found  for  the  chorus,  namely,  that  it  heightens  th^ 
probability,  and  corrects  the  ill  effects  of  vicious  sentiments  in  the  moutha 
6f  the  acton,  t  do  not  dlow.  How  far  t&e  hiusical  part  of  the  chorus 
might  scrire  t^  incitease  the  t^easutt^  <i§  td  excite  6t  enliven  the  passion^» 
18  a  different  question.    T. 


LECTURE  XXXI. 

OF  THE  SUBJECT  ANB  STYLE  OF  SOLOMOITS  80NO. 

"ne  question  debated»  whether  the  Song  of  Solomon  it  to  be  tiken  in  t 
literal  or  allegorical  sense:  the  allegorical  sense  defended  upon  the 
grounds  of  the  parabolic  style.--Tlie  nature  and  groond-woik  of  this  al» 
legory  explained. — The  fastidiousness  of  those  critics  reproTed,  who  pre- 
tend to  take  offisnce  at  the  freedom  of  some'  of  those  images  which  are 
Ibund  in  the  Sacred  Writings ;  the  nature  of  those  images  explained. 
The  allegorical  interpretation  confirmed  by  analogical  aigwnettts :  not 
equally  demonstrable  from  the  internal  structure  ot  the  work  itself.^ 
This  aUegory  of  the  third  or  mystical  species ;  the  subject  literally  re- 
lating to  the  nuptials  of  Solomonv— Two  cautions  to  be  observed  by 
commentators.—Tbe  style  of  the  Poem  ptttoral :  the  chamcten  ate 
represented  as  pastoral ;  how  agreeable  this  to  the  manners  of  the  He- 
farews<-«The  elegance  of  the  topics,  descriptions,  comparisons  of  this 
Pdem :  illustrated  by  examples. 

XlAyiKG,  in  my  last  Lecture,  briefly  explained  what 
appeared  to  me  most  probable,  among  the  great  variety 
of  opinions  which  have  prevailed,  concerning  the  con* 
duct  and  economy  of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  a  question 
next  presents  itself  for  our  investigation,  not  less  in* 
volved  in  doubt  and  obscurity,  I  mean  the  real  nature 
and  subject  of  the  poem.  Some  are  of  opinion,  that  it 
b  to  be  taken  altogether  in  a  literal  sense,  and  others 
esteem  it  wholly  allegorical.  There  is  no  less  disagree- 
ment also  among  those  who  consider  it  as  allegorical; 
some  conceive  it  to  be  no  more  than  a  simple  allegory 
while  others  place  it  in  that  class  which  I  have  denom* 
inated  mystical,  that,  namely,  which  is  founded  upon 
the  basis  of  history*    I  would  gladly,  from  the  first,, 


Lbgt.  SU  op  the  song»  See.  4)5 

have  considered  this  question  as  foreign  to  my  under- 
taking, and  would  have  avoided  it  as  involved  in  the 
deepest  obscurity,  had  I  not,  in  the  former  part  of  these 
Lectures,  been  under  the  necessity  of  remarking  the 
connexion  between  the  different  kinds  of  allegory  and 
the  principles  of  the  sacred  poetry ;  ha^  I  not  also  found 
it  necessary  to  advert  to  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  par- 
abolic style,  the  most  obvious  property  of  which  is  to 
express  by  certain  images,  chiefly  adopted  from  natural 
objects,  the  analogy  and  application  of  which  is  regular- 
ly preserved,  those  ideas  and  doctrines  which  are  more 
remote  from  common  apprehension.  This  I  cannot 
help  considering  as  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance, 
in  enabling  us  to  understand  properly  the  poetry  of  the 
Hebrews ;  and  upon  this  point  much  of  the  present  ar« 
gument  will  be  found  to  depend. 

I  shall  on  this,  as  well  as  upon  the  last  occassion,  pro- 
ceed with  that  cautious  reserve  which  I  think  prudent 
and  necessary  on  so  obscure  a  subject ;  and  since  cer- 
tainty is  not  to  be  obtained,  I  shall  content  myself  with 
proposing  to  your  consideration  what  appears  least  im« 
probable.  In  the  first  place  then  I  confess,  that  by 
several  reasons,  by  the  general  authority  and  consent  of 
both  the  Jewish  and  Christian  churches ;  and  still  more, 
by  the  nature  and  analogy  of  the  parabolic  style,  I  feel 
irresistibly  inclined  to  that  side  of  the  question  which 
considers  this  poem  as  an  entire  allegory.  Those,  in** 
deed,  who  have  considered  it  in  a  different  light,  and 
who  have  objected  against  the  inconsistency  and  mean- 
ness of  the  imagery,  seem  to  be  but  little  acquainted 
with  the  genius  of  the  parabolic  diction ;  for  the  remov- 
al, therefore,  of  these  difficulties,  which  I  find  have  beea 
the  cause  of  offence  to  many  persons,  1  shall  beg  leave  to 
trespass  upon  your  attention,  while  I  explain  somewhat 
54 


486  OF  THE  SONG  Lbct.  31. 

more  accurately  the  nature  of  this  allegory,  and  its  anal« 
bgy  with  other  productions  of  the  Hebrew  poets. 

The  narHowness  and  imbecility  of  the  human  mind 
jbeing  such  as  scarcely  to  comprehend  or  attain  a  cleat' 
idea  of  any  part  of  the  liivine  Nature  by  its  utmost  ex. 
ertiohs  ;    God  has  cbndtrscended,  in  a  manner,  to  con- 
tract  the  infinity  of  his  glory,  and  to  exhibit  it  to  out 
understandings  under  stich  imager}'  as  our  feeble  optica 
are  capable  of  contemplating.     Thus  the  Almighty  may 
be  said  to  descend,  as  it  were,  in  the  Holy  ScriptureSi 
trom  the  height  of  his  majesty,  to  appear  on  earth  in  a 
numah  shape,  wil^  human  ^ens^s  and  affections,  in  all 
respects  resembling  a  mortal—"  with  human  voice  and 
human  form.'*     This  kind  of  allegory  is  caBed  anthrO- 
popathy,  ani  occupies  a  considerable  portion  of  theology, 
properly  so  called,  that  is,  as  delivered  in  the  Holy  Script 
tures.    The  principal  part  df  this  imagety  is  derived 
"from  the  passiofts ;  nor  indeed  is  there  any  one  affecdoh 
or  emotion  of  the  human  soul  which  is  not,  with  aU  tt& 
circumstances,  ascribed  in  direct  tefms,  without  an;^ 
qualification  whatever,  to  the  supreme  Gofl ;  not  excepts 
ing  those  in  Which  human  fmilty  and  imperfection  ik 
'ihost  eviden'tly  displayed,  anger  and  grief,  hatred  anft 
Vevenge.    Thm  love  also,  and  that  of  the  tenderest  kind. 
%^ou)d  bear  a  p^ft  in  this  drartia,  is  highly  natural  am 
*Jjeirfect!ly  consistent.    Thuis,  not  orily  the  fondness  d[ 
'pjttemal  affection  is  attributed  to  Ood,  but  also  the  force, 
iJie  ardour,  and  the  ^iolichuAe  of  conjugal  attachroein, 
with  all  thfc  concomitant  emotions,  the  anxiety,  the  ten- 
derness, the  jealousy  incidental  to  this  passion. 

After  all,  this  figure  is  not  in  the  least  productive  df 
obscurity ;  the  nature  of  it  is  better  understood  than  that 
of  most  others  :  and  although  it  be  exhibited  in  a  varietur 
of  lights,  it  constantly  preserves  its  native  perspicuity. 


LscT.SI.'  OF  SOI.OMQN.  4S7- 

t 

iV  peculiar  people,  of  t)ie  posterity  of  Abrahaip,  was  se- 
lected by  God  from  among  the  nations,  and  be  ratified 
his  choice  by  a  solemq  covenant.  This  covenant  wa^ 
£3unded  upon  reciprocal  conditions ;  on  the  one  part 
love,  protection,  and  support  \  on  the  other  faith,  obe- 
dience, and  worship  pure  and  devout.  This  is  that  con-* 
jugal  union  between  God  and  his  church  ;  that  solemn 
compact  so  frequently  celcbn^tcd  by  almost  all  the  sacred 
writers  under  thisi  im^ge.  It  is  indeed  a  remarkable  in- 
stance  of  that  species  of  metaphor  which  Aristotle  calls 
analogical  -^  that  is,  wUen  in  a  proposition  poi|&|sting  qf 
four  ideas,  the  Qrst  bears  the  jsame  relation  to  thf  second 
as  the  third  does  to  the  fourth,  and  tlie  corresponding 
"words  may  occasionally  change  their  places  without  poy 
injury  to  the  sense.  Thus  in  this  form  of  expression 
God  is  supposed  to  bear  exactly  the  same  relation  to  the 
pburch  ^^  a  husband  to  a  wife ;  God  i^  represented  a^ 
the  spouse  of  the  church,  and  the  church  as  the  betroth* 
ed  of  God.  Thus  also,  when  the  same  figure  is  main- 
tained with  a  different  mode  of  expression,  and  cpmiectr 
ed  with  diflferent  circumstances,  the  relation  is  still  the 
jsame ;  thus  the  piety  of  the  people,  their  impiety,  their 
idolatry,  and  rejection,  stand  in  the  same  relation  with 
respect  to  the  sacred  covenant ;  as  chastity,  modesty, 
immodes^,  adultery^  divorce,  with  respect  to  the  ipar- 
riage  coouract.  And  this  notion  is  so  very  familiar  and 
well  understood  in  Scripture,  that  the  won!  adulter}^  (or 
whoredom)  is  commonly  used  to  denote  idolatrous  wor« 
ahip,  and  so  apj^-opriated  dof^  it  appear  to  this  me^u 
phorical  purpose,  that  it  very  seldom  occurs  ia  its  prop* 
er  and  literal  sense. 

Let  us  only  observe  how  freely  the  sacred  poets  em- 
ploy tUs  image,  how  they  dwell  upon  it,  in  how  many 

1  PoiBT.  cbiip.  xxil.  and  Basr*  i"-  3. 


4M  OF  THE  SONG  Lkct.  SI. 

different  forms  they  introduce  it,  and  how  little  they 
seem  to  fear  exhibiting  it  with  all  its  circumstances. 
Concerning  the  reconciliation  of  the  church  to  Almighty 
God,  and  its  restoration  to  the  divine  £ivour,  amongst 
many  images  of  a  similar  nature,  the  elegant  Isaiah  in- 
troduces the  following : 

M  For  thj  husband  is  thy  Maker ; 

**  Jkhovah,  God  of  hosts,  is  his  name : 

^  And  thy  Redeemer  is  the  Holy  Ooe  of  Israel ; 

<«  The  God  of  the  whole  earth  shall  he  be  called."' 

And  in  another  passage  in  the  form  of  a  compariaon : 

^  For  as  a  young  man  weddeth  a  virgin, 
tt  So  shall  thy  Restorer  wed  thee  ;^ 

>  IiA.  Ut.  5. 

3  The  imhtgiuty  of  the  word  which  I  translate  **  thy  reaftorer,*  haa 
created  in^xtrieahle  difficulties  to  all  the  translators  and  ccMnmentatoraa 
both  ancient  and  modenv  The  LXX  have  mbtaken  it,  and  the  Maaorites 
have  mispointed  it.  Their  anthority  has  consecrated  the  efror,  and  almost 
established  it.  Nothing  howeTer  appears  clearer  to  me»  than  that  this 
Word  *p&.  >*  i^ot  the  plural  of  the  noun  p  (^Aen,  a  son)  but  of  the  participle 
henotu  of  the  Tcrb  mil  fbenah»  to  build)  and  is  parallel  and  synonymous  to 
$hf  O0d  in  the  alternate  member.  Compare  the  aboTe  quoted  passage  of 
Isaiah,  where  also  mark  that  hu»band$  and  creMort  occur  in  the  plural, 
with  the  same  relation  to  the  same  word.  By  this  explanatioa,  every  of- 
fimsive  and  indelicate  idea  is  taken  away  ftom  the  passage,  which  I  do  not 
wonder  proved  an  impedhnent  in  the  way  of  the  commentaters^  There  is 
another  passage  of  Isaiah,  in  which  the  same  word  is  egregiously  Qjsun» 
derstood  by  the  Maaorites : 

**  They  that  destroyed  thee,  shall  soon  become  thy  builders ; 
**  And  they  that  laid  thee  waste,  shall  become  thine  offspring^** 

IsjL.  xlix.  ir. 
Thus,  in  spite  of  the  Masoriteii,  the  sentence  ought  to  be  distributed ; 
thus  it  ought  to  be  expla'med  conformably  to  the  LXX,  who  have  translated 
net  only  this  ambiguous  word,  (as  also  the  Chii..  and  Yuu.)  but  the  whole 
peried  also  with  the  greatest  accuracy,  elegance,  taste,  and  erudition : 

The  AmiB.  as  in  genial,  copies  them.  See  a  similar  idiom  in  Ps.  cri.  13. 
EzoD.  ii.  18,  and  the  same  sense  of  the  Teshjetxa,  Jam.  zxz.31.  Nam.  1. 11» 
In  this  verse  also,  for  bp3^  «3  the  LXX.  Sra,  and  Caiu  read  V9^*0  ^ 
^  Before  T^^"  oi^c  H^-  '^^^^  P*  so  the  LXX.  Stb.  Cjlhl  For  vwnx\  one 
f*  MS.  has  rwoav  and,  snother  mrDa."    K.    ^«Msr's  AWr. 


LscT.  SI.  OF  SOLOMOK.  4Sf 

«  And  as  the  bridegroom  rejoifceth  in  his  bride, 
M  So  shall  thy  God  reJMce  in  tbee/'^ 

The  same  image  a  little  diversified,  and  with  greater 
freedom  of  expression,  as  better  adapted  to  the  displajr 
of  indignation,  is  introduced  by  Jeremiah,'  when  he  de- 
claims against  the  defection  of  the  Jews  from  the  wor* 
ship  of  the  true  God.  Upon  the  same  principle  the 
former  part  of  the  prophecy  of  Hosea  ought  also  to  be 
explained ;  and  whether  that  part  of  the  prophecy  be 
taken  in  the  literal  and  historical  sense,  or  whether  it  be 
esteemed  altogether  allegorical,  still  the  nature  and  prin- 
ciples of  this  figure,  which  seems  consecrated  in  some 
measure  to  this  subject,  will  evidently  appear.  None 
of  the  prophets,  however,  have  applied  the  image  with 
so  much  boldness  and  freedom  as  Ezekiel,  an  author 
of  a  most  fervid  imagination,  who  is  little  studious  of 
elegance,  or  cautious  of  bfiending  %  insomuch,  that  I 
am  under  some  apprehension  of  his  incurring  no  iiKX>n« 
siderable  share  of  censure  from  those  over-delicate  crit- 
ics who  have  been  emitted  from  tiie  Gallic  schools.^ 

4  !•▲.  izlL  5.  See  Jobs  iii.  29,  8cc  and  note  (11)  in  answer  to  Michae-i 
lis,  on  the  allegorical  sense  of  Solomon's  Song.    S.  H. 

«  Sir  John  Cbardin,  in  his  note  on  this  place,  tells  us,  that  it  is  the  eus* 
<*  torn  in  the  Bast  for  youths,  that  were  neyer  married,  always  to  many 
<*  virgins  $  and  widowers»  howeyer  young,  to  many  widows."  Harmcr» 
Obserr.  ii.  p.  489.    T* 

'  Jim.  iii.  1,  &o. 

A  Nothing  can  be  more  disgusting  to  any  person  of  common  sense,  than 
tbe  arrogant  pretences  of  our  neighbours  on  the  continent  to  superior  re- 
Snemient  and  civilization ;  and  I  confess,  on  a  f&ir  investigation,  I  am  ut» 
terly  at  a  loss  to  find  in  what  this  boasied  superiority  consists.  Is  it  seen 
in  their  enlarged  and  liberal  notions  of  civd  government,  in  their  toleration 
»nd  general  information  on  politics  and  religion,  in  the  mildness  of  their 
punishments  and  the  equity  of  their  laws  ?  Is  it  marked  by  their  progress 
in  the  great  and  useful  sciences,  by  their  Bacons  and  their  Boyles,  their 
Kewtons  and  their  Loc1(es  f  Does  it  appear  in  the  sublimity,  the  grandeurj^ 
^e  elegance  of  their  poets  ?  Or  is  it  demonstrated  by  still  more  certaii^ 
Ibsriu  of  civilization»  by  the  general  cleanliness»  decency»  and  industry  o^ 


«tt  op  T3B  80Na  Lf cf.  f I. 

His  great  freedom  in  the  use  of  this  linage  is  particular* 
Ij  displayed  in  two  parables/  in  which  he  desoribes  the 
ingratitude  of  the  Jews  apd  Isni^lites  to  their  greaf* 
Protector,  and  their  defection  frppi  tlie  try^  worship 
under  imagery  assumed  frofn  the  ch^^racter  of  an  adu}« 
terous  wife,  and  the  meretricious  loves  of  twQ  unchaste 
women.  If  these  painbles  (which  are  put  ^lta  ih^ 
mouth  of  God  himself  with  a  direct  allegorical  flpp^C9* 
tion,  and  in  which  it  must  be  confes^4i  th^  deUcaqr 

tile  coiB|Don  people  f  U  it  ieen  iq  the  conveiuence  and  grandeur  of  their 
public  roada,  and  the  accommodations  afibrded  to  travellers  in  every  part 
of  the  kingdom  f  Does  it  appear  in  the  ftce  of  the  couotiyy  the  high  «tato 
•f  cultivation,  and  the  aoccesa  and  iniprovement  of  agrjcultuie  f  Or  lastly^ 
14  it  demonstrable  from  the  morals  of  the  people  at  large,  from  the  inde* 
pendence»  the  dignity,  the  probity,  particularly  of  the  trading  classes  of 
aociety  i  I  know  no  other  marks  of  civilisation  than  these  i  ^4  ^  ^^  >4* 
Biirers  of  Gallic  frippery  cannot  answer  these  questions  to  my  satisfactiop, 
I  shall  continue  to  give  but  little  credit  to  their  pretensions  to  extraordi- 
fkurj  refinement  and  politeness.    T. 

.  That  diversity  of  mam^ers,  Hkf^-  d^Ucacy  of  converaalion,  which  is  o^ 
«erved  by  some  nations,  and  the  coarseness  of  others,  results  chiefly  from 
the  degree  of  intercourse  which  subsists  between  the  sexes.  In  countries 
where  the  intercourse  is  free  and  familiar,  where  the  aeaes  meet  oommqp]^ 
in  mixed  companies,  they  accustom  themselves  to  a  greater  modesty  and 
$kiie»ey  an  their  oonrersatiDn,  which  modesty  is  easijly  tiiuislbrFe4  to  their 
/composition.  Such  a  people»  therefore»  with  whom  entertainments  woulf 
^eem  languid  and  duU  without  the  company  of  young  women,  though  per- 
h^M  not  free  from  Ucentiousness  in  their  manners,  will  yet  be  fshaste  and 
jMicAte  in  their  dprnsaaoB.  Qenoe  ariaei»  in  n  gxieat  degree  Mift  i^UciDt 
delica/^  in  the  people  of  modem  Europe,  which  can  scarQply  heap  some  of 
the  passages  in  Virgil,  and  the  chastest  of  the  ancient  pooM.  The  c^a^  is 
guite  difieient  with  the  people  of  the  East :  for  the  men  having  scarcely 
any  society  with  the  unmarried  women,  or  with  the  wives  of  others,  con« 
verse  togt^ther  without  being  restrained  by  the  blushes  of  females,  or  with 
their  own  wives,  whom  they  regard  in  a  very  inferior  light,  and  ponse* 
guently  treat  with  all  the  insolence  of  frmiliarity ;  the  women  alao  converse 
j^efly  with  each  other ;  and  as  they  are  similarly  situated,  are  probably 
not  less  licentious.  It  is  not  extraordinary,  tlierelbie,  if  greater  freedom 
pf  speech  should  prevail  in  those  countries,  and  if  this,  when  traasfrrred 
into  their  poetry,  should  be  found  to  offend  our  ears,  w|uch  are  acciistoaied 
^o  so  much  greater  delicacy  ii^  conversation.  M. 
.   7  BziK»  xvi.  and  xxiii* 


Llici.  31.  OF  ^LOkb^.  \ii 

Aois  not  Appear  to  ht  pairticularly  stucSed)  be  trell  con* 
ihtered,  I  aitf  persuaded,  that  the  Song  of  Solomon 
^hich  is  in  every  part  chaste  and  elegant)  will  not  ap« 
pear  unworthy  of  the  divine  sense  in  which  it  is  usually 
taken,  leither  in  matter  or  style,  or  in  any  degree  inferior 
feidier  in  gravity  or  purity  to  the  other  remains  of  the 
tecred  poets.  To  tfa^se  instances  I  may  add  the  for^r. 
fifth  PsEtlm,  which  is  a  sacred  epithalamium,  of  the  al- 
legorical application  of  which,  to  the  union  betweeh 
God  and  the  church,  I  do  not  find  that  any  doubt  has 
hitherto  been  entertained ;  though  many  suspect  it,  and 
not  without  good  reason,  to  have  been  produced  upon 
the  same  occasion,  and  with  the  same  relation  to  a  real 
fact*  as  the  Song  of  Solomon.  Neither  ought  we  to 
omit,  that  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament*  hav4 
freely  admitted  the  same  image  in  the  same  allegorical 
sense  with  their  predecessors,  and  liave  finally  conse* 
crated  it  by  their  authority .*• 

These  reasons  appear  to  me  sufficient  to  remove 
tikose  objections  founded  on  the  meanness  of  the  ima- 
gery, which  render  many  critics  averse  to  the  allegor- 
ical explanation  of  this  poem.  I  shall  not  attempt  to 
Confirm  this  opinion  by  any  internal  evidence  from  the 

•  PerbapB  the  coropletion  and  oonaacrfttum  of  tke  temple^    See  note  (U.) 

B.  H.  . 

•  See  Matt.  it.  15,  Jom  Hi.  29,  3  C»b.  si.  S,  Bra.  t.  23,  fce.  Rvr.  xis 
7,  xxi.  2,  xxli.  17. 

10  What  CBABDiir  relates  of  the  Persian  poetry,  may  perhaps  not  be  un- 
trorthy  of  the  reader's  notice  in  this  place.  *'  Debauchery  and  licentiouff* 
^  ness,**  says  he,  *'  are  the  common  topics  of  these  compositions ;  but  I 
'''mast  not  omit  remarking,  that  the  most  serious  of  their  poets  treat  at 
^the  sublimest  mysteries  of  theology,  under  the  most  licentious  language^ 
"  IB  the  way  of  allegory,  as  Afez  in  his  Xcuel**  Voyage  de  Chabdih,  4to 
tflfm.  ii.  cap.  ziv.  But  respecting  this  matter  see  the  arguments  on  both 
jides  elegantly  stated  by  the  learned  Sir  Wuuax  Jojtxs.  jPocm.  Anatica, 
tioiment»  cap^  ix.    Author^»  J^6tt. 


433  OF  THE  SONG  Lbct.  SI. 

poem  itself,  as  I  do  not  scruple  to  cookss  myself  de^ 
tcrred  by  the  great  difficulty  of  the  undertaking.  For 
though  induced  by  the  most  ancient  authority,  and  still 
more  by  the  analogy  of  this  with  other  similar  allege^ 
ries  contained  in  the  Hebrew  writings,  I  am  fully  per- 
suaded of  the  truth  of  what  I  have  advanced ;  yet  I  am 
still  apprehensive  that  it  would  be  extremely  difficult 
to  establish  the  hypothesis  by  direct  arguments  from 
the  internal  structure  of  the  work  ttself.^^ 

ti  Our  author  has  treated  this  very  difficult  suhject  with  more  modestf 
tnd  more  address  than  any  of  the  commentators ;  and  indeed  has  said  all 
that  could  he  said,  exclusive  of  the  theological  arguments  in  faTourof  the 
allegorical  sense.  I  question,  however,  whether  he  will  he  able  to  remove 
all  doubt  from  the  mind  of  a  cool  and  attentive  reader ;  the  reasons  of  m/ 
•cepticism  on  this  matter,  I  will,  as  a  person  earnestly  desirous  of  the  truth, 
«ndeavour  briefly  to  explain ;  and  I  shall  hold  myself  |^reat]y  indebted  to 
that  man,  who  shall,  upon  rational  principles,  undertake  to  remove  my 
temples. 

With  regard  to  the  authority  of  the  ancient  Christian  church,  in  a  ques- 
tion merely  depending  upon  the  exposition  of  a  passage  in  scripture,  1  hold 
it  of  very  little  importance,  not  only  because  the  exposition  of  scripture 
does  not  depend  upon  human  authority,  but  because  the  fiithers,  as  well 
on  account  of  their  ignorance  of  the  Hebrew  language,  as  of  the  principles 
of  polite  literature  in  general,  were  very  inadequate  to  the  subject,  eagerly 
pursuing  certain  mystical  meanings,  even  with  respect  to  the  clearest  pas- 
■ages,  in  the  explanation  of  which,  the  most  enlightened  of  the  modem 
commentators  have  refuted  them.  The  time  of  the  fethers  was  so  very 
distant  from  the  period  when  this  poem  was  composed,  that  it  is  impossi« 
ble  they  should  have  been  possessed  of  any  certain  tradition  concerning  its 
purpart  and  meaning.  I  should  entertain  very  different  sentiments,  if  I 
eould  find  any  mention  of  the  Song  of  Songs  in  the  New-Testament ;  but 
on  the  most  diligent  examination,  I  have  not  been  able  to  discern  the 
•lightest  allusion  to  that  poem. 

The  authority  of  the  synagogue  is  of  still  less  importance  in  my  eyes, 
aince  in  other  respects  we  have  found  it  so  little  deserving  of  confidence 
in  its  attempts  at  expounding  the  scriptures.  Such  of  the  Jewish  writers 
as  have  treated  of  the  Canticles  lived  so  many  ages  after  the  time  of  Solo» 
mon,  afler  the  total  destruction  of  the  commonwealth  and  literature  of  the 
Hebrews,  that  they  knew  no  more  of  the  matter  than  eurselves. 

With  regard  to  the  analogy  of  other  poems,  all  that  can  be  said  is,  that 
it'  was  indeed  possible  enough  for  Solomon  to  celebrate  the  Divine  love  in 
terms  analogous  to  those  descriptive  of  the  human  afiections :  but  it  is 


Lker.  SI.  OF  SOLO  MON.  483 

But  if,  after  all,  it  be  allowed  that  this  work  is  of  the 
dlegorical  kind,  another  question  remains,  namely,  to 

hoposaible  to  determme  by  tluit  inalogy»  what  kind  of  love  he  mteiided  to 
be  the  siih|ect  of  this  poem.  Shall  we  pretend  to  aay,  that  hU  attention 
was  wbcrfly  employed  upon  sacred  poetry»  and  that  he  never  celebrated  in 
v«ne  any  of  the  human  aflfections  ?  Or,  because  some  of  the  Hebrew  poenM^ 
eelebrate  the  Divine  goodness  in  terms  expressive  of  the  human  passions,. 
does  it  follow,  that  on  no  occasion  those  terms  are  to  be  taken  in  their  lit- 
eral sense? 

Our  author  has  pradentlydeclined  examining  the  srguments  which  SM 
usually  taken  from  the  poem  itself»  snd  from  its  internal  structure»  for  the 
purpose  of  establishing^  the  allegory.  It  is  indeed  very  improbable»  that  m 
^  long  a  poem,  if  it  were  really  allegorical»  no  vestiges»  no  intimatioii 
should  be  found  to  direct  us  to  apply  it  to  the  Divine  love  s  nothing»  which 
does  not  most  clearly  relate  to  the  human  passion :  and  that  too»  consid- 
ering^ it  as  the  production  of  one  of  the  Hebrew  writers»  who  are  accustom- 
ed to  mix  the  literal  sense  with  the  allegorical  in  almost  all  their  compo- 
sitions of  this  kind.  In  so  long  an  allegory  one  should  also  expect  a  deep» 
4t  moral  than  usual,  and  one  not  generally  obvious  to  be  indicated :  but  no 
sober  commentator  has  ever  been  able  to  deduce  from  the  Canticles  any 
•ther  than  this  trite  senthnent,  that  God  loves  his  church»  and  is  beloved 
hy  it.  That  this  simple  sentiment  should  be  treated  so  prolixly»  and  noth- 
ing more  distinctly  revealed  concerning  it»  who  can  credit»  but  upon  the 
soundest  basis  of  argument  or  proof  ?  But  in  support  of  it  we  have  only 
Ihe  bare  position,  that  the  Hebrew  writers  sometimes  make  use  of  allegor- 
leal  expressions  to  denote  the  Divine  love. 

I  am  aware  of  the  objections  which  are  started  by  those  who  rest  the 
natter  upon  theological  arguments  (though  I  cannot  find  that  these  are  of 
great  weight  or  utility  in  the  present  debate :  for  they  seem  rather  calcu* 
iated  to  silence  than  convince.)  They  assert»  that  though  the  book  has 
never  been  quoted  by  Christ  or  his  apostles»  it  was  yet  received  into  the 
Sacred  Canon»  and  is  therefore  to  be  accounted  of  divine  original :  and  that 
tfiere  does  not  appear  any  thing  in  it  divine»  or  worthy  of  sacred  inspira- 
^n»  unless  it  be  supposed  to  contain  the  mystery  of  the  Divine  love.  Lest, 
ftowever,  they  should  seem  to  have  proved  too  much,  and  lest  they  should 
dilsmiss  the  reader  prepossessed  with  some  doubts  concerning  the  Divine 
a&thority  of  the  book»  I  will  venture  to  remind  these  profound  reasonerst 
that  the  chaste  snd  conjugpal  afflictions  so  carefully  implanted  by  the  Deity 
in  the  human  heart,  and  upon  which  so  great  a  portion  of  human  happinese 
depends,  are  not  unworthy  of  a  muse  fraught  even  with  Divine  inspiration^ 
Only  let  us  suppose»  contrary  to  the  general  opinion  concerning  the  Canti- 
cles» that  the  affection»  which  is  described  in  this  poem,  is  not  that  oi,  lov- 
ers previous  to  their  nuptials,  but  the  attachment  of  two  delicate  persons» 
who  have  been  long  united  in  the  sacred  bond,  can  we  suppose  such  h^>pi- 
I  unworthy  of  being  recommended  u  ft  pattern  to  mankind»  und  of  be- 
55 


434  OF  THE  SONG  tKCT.  Sf. 

tirhich  of  the  three  classes  of  allegory  already  specified 
k  properly  belong.     The  first  of  these,  you  will  recol- 

ing^  celebrated  as  a  subject  of  g^titude  to  the  g^re«t  author  of  happiness  f 
This  is  indeed  a  branch  of  morals  which  may  be  treated  in  a  more  artificial 
and  phitosophical  manner ;  and  such  a  manner  will  perhaps  be  more  cod* 
vmein^  to  the  understanding*,  but  will  never  affect  the  heart  with  such  tea- 
der  sentiments  as  the  Song  of  Solomon ;  in  which  there  exists  all  the  fer- 
tour  of  passion,  with  the  utmost  chastity  of  expression,  and  with  that  deli- 
cacy and  reserve,  which  is  ever  necessary  to  the  life  and  preservation  of 
conjugfal  love.  Let  us  remember,  moreover,  that  Solomon,  in  his  Proverbs^ 
has  not  disdainevl  very  minutely  to  describe  the  felicities  and  infelicities  of 
the  conjujfal  state.     M. 

Notwithstanding^  all  that  this  learned  writer  has  so  ably  advanced  apunst 
the  allegorical  import  of  this  exquisite  Idyllium,  I  cannot  be  prevailed  upon 
entirely  to  relinquish  the  idea.  That  compositions  of  a  similar  kind  are 
still  extant  amongst  the  Asiatics  Is  certain.  The;  Loves  of  Megnoun  and 
Leileh  have  been  celebrated  in  the  Arabic,  Persic,  and  Turkish  languages, 
with  all  the  charms  of  poetic  rapture,  whilst  the  impassioned  lovers  them- 
8elves  are  regarded  in  the  same  allegorical  light,  as  the  bridegroom  and 
bride  in  the  Song  of  Songs.  Exclusive,  however,  of  this  consideration, 
there  appear  to  stand  forth  in  the  composition  itself  indisputable  traits  of 
an  allegorical  sense.  For,  though  (from  our  imperfect  knowledge  of  the 
extraneons  mannel*s,  arts,  local  peculiarities,  and  literature,  of  so  singular 
a  people,  at  so  distant  a  period)  we  be  now  unabl6  to  apply  the  thing  sig- 
nified to  its  proper  sign,  yet  a  variety  of  images  obtrude  themselves  upon 
us  that  evidently  contain  a  symbolical  meaning.— Jshovab  having  chosen 
the  Jewish  nation  as  his  peculiar  people,  and  being  frequently,  btf  the  pr9pk' 
eu  APTsm  So/bfRo»,  represented  as  their  busbavd,  and  they  personified,  as 
hit  wirx  J  might  not  the  consecration  (2  Crbov.  vii.)  of  the  temple,  as  an 
habitation  for  the  Lord  to  dwell  in,  and  there  receive  them  to  himself,  have 
sngfgested  to  Solomon  the  idea  of  a  coaritrsAL  uvioir,  and  induced  him  to 
adapt  an  allegory  to  it  ? — As  to  the  allegation,  that  this  poem  is  not  cited 
m  the  New  Testament :  it  wiU,  upon  this  g^round,  be  of  the  less  weight ;  for 
oar  Saviour,  in  the  parables  of  the  ten  Virgins  and  the  Marriage  Supper, 
has  adopted  (if  not  fi-om  it)  the  same  allegory,  as  well  as  in  other  passages 
[^fark  ix.  15,  Sec.}  and  is  himself  not  only  pointed  out  to  the  Jews  express- 
ly in  the  character  <yf  a  bridegroom,  by  John  Baptist  [John  iii.]  but  referred 
to,  under  it,  by  St.  Paul  [Eph.  v.  &c.]  and  more  particularly  in  the  Apoca* 
lypse.  How  far  this  conjecture  may  be  supported,  I  will  not  venture  at 
present  to  pronounce,  but  thus  much  it  may  be  proper  to  observe,  tliat 
such  images  as  the  tent9  of  Kedar  compared  to  the  cfftnplexion  of  a  young 
femcJr  ;  tlie  tower  of  David  to  her  neck,-  Tirza  to  her  beauty^  and  Jerttoa- 
lem  to  her  comelineot  /  the  fsh-pooh  of  NeMon  by  the  gutet  of  Bethrabbin^ 
to  her  eyet;  the  to^mer  of  Lebanon  looking  tmoardt  Danuucuo^  to  her  note  i 
tiie  mount  of  Carmel^  to  her  head,-  with  others  uf  a  similar  kind,  would,  I 


Licf .  31.  OF  SOLOMON.  431 

Icct,  was  the  continued  metaphor ;  the  second  the  par* 
able,  strictly  so  called  ;  and  the  third,  the  mystical  alle- 
gory, which,  under  the  veil  of  some  historical  fact,  con^ 
ceals  a  meaning  more  sacred   and  sublime.     I  must 
confess,  that  I  am  clearly  of  the  same  opinion  with  those 
who  assign  this  production  to  the  latter  class  of  allego- 
ries ;  the  reason  of  which  will  be  evident,  if  it  be  ad- 
mitted that  there  is  any  thing  in  the  poem  at  all  allegor- 
ical ;    since  there  can  scarcely  be  any  doubt  that  it  re- 
lates  in   a  literal  sense  to  fhe  nuptials  of  Solomon. 
Those  also,  who  are  conversant  with  the  writings  of  the 
Hebrew  poets  will  easily  perceive  how  agreeable  the 
conduct  of  this  poem  is  to  the  practice  of  those  writers, 
who  are  fond  of  annexing  a  secret  and  solemn  sense  to 
the  obvious  meaning  of  their  compositions,  and  of  look- 
ing through  the  medium  of  human  affairs  to  those  wiiich 
arc  celestial  and  divine.     The  subject  of  the  Canticles 
appears  to  be  the  marriage  feast  of  Solomon  (who  was 
both  in  name  and  in  reality  the  prince  of  peace ;)  his  bride 
is  also  called  Solomitis^^  the  same  name  with  a  femi- 
nine termination ;  though  the  latter  Jews  have  strangely 
disguised  and  obscured  it  by  a  vicious  pronunciation : 
for  Solomon  and  Solomitis  have  evidently  the  same  re- 
lation to  each  other,  as  the  Latin  names  Caius  and  Caia. 
This  circumstance  of  the  names  was  not  to  be  disregard- 
ed,  since  they  seem  to  have  a  very  strict  connexion^ 

think,  have  nerer  been  selected»  to  exemplify  the  beauties  of  a  bride,  in 
any  composition  that  was  not  allegorical. 

The  idea  above  suggested  will,  perhaps,  reeerre  no  little  countenance 
ftom  the  chapter  cited  as  above  (2  Cheo  v.  viL)  Bosquet's  division  of  the  po- 
em into  seven  days,  is  perfectly  conformable  to  the  fact  mentioned  in  the  8th 
and  9th  verses— where  ^e  learn,  that  the  dedication  of  the  altar  was  cele- 
brated by  a  festival  that  continued  for  the  same  space  of  time.    S.  II. 

w  n«oViv  maVir  5  which  may  be  expressed  in  Greek  HoMfun,  Xu^fifitrii^ 
Cast.  viii.  1. 


43«  OF  THE  SONG  Lbct.  Si. 

and  to  afibrd  a  very  distinct  intimation  of  the  latent 
meaning :   for  to  what  purpose  innovate  the  usual  prac* 
tice  of  the  Hebrews,  by  assigning  to  the  wife  of  Solo^ 
mon  the  same  name,  unkss  from  a  regard  to  the  force 
and  meaning  of  the  word  ?   Unless  it  was  meant  to  in* 
dicate,  that  the  name  of  Solomon  himself  was  not  with* 
out  importance,    not  without  some  further  aim  than 
merely  the  distinction  of  the  person  ?   Who  this  wife  of 
Solomon  was,  is  not  dearly  ascertained :  but  some  of 
the  learned  have  conjectured,  with  an  appearance  df 
probability,  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  Pharaoh,  to 
whom  Solomon  was  known  to  be  particularly  attached^ 
May  we  not  therefore,   with  some  shadow  of  reason, 
suspect,  that  under  the  allegory  of  Solomon  choosing  § 
wife  from  the  Egyptians,  might  be  darkly  typified  that 
other  Prince  of  Peace,  who  was  to  espouse  a  church, 
chosen  from  ampng  the  Gentiles  ?^ 

Concerning  the  explanation  of  tliis  allegory,  I  will 
only  add,  that,  in  the  first  place,  we  ought  to  be  cautioua 
<^  carrying  the  figurative  application  too  far,  and  of  en- 
tering into  a  precise  explication  of  every  particular :  aa 
these  minute  investigations  are  seldom  ccmducted  wit^ 
su^cient  prudence  not  to  ofiend  the  strious  part  c^  man- 
kind, learned  as  well  as  unlearned.    Again,  I  would  ad< 

SS  This  Ycry  nice  and  reinote  allusion  to  Christ  is  totally  destroyed  by 
•B  unlucky  obserratioB  of  Dr.  Hodgson,  who  very  properly  rem&rks,  that 
the  bride,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  poem,  could  not  be  the  daughter  ol 
Pharaoh,  for  in  the  third  chkpter,  ver.  4,  she  expressly  says ; 

**  1  would  not  let  him  go, 

*■  Till  1  had  led  him  into  the  house  of  my  mother.** 
**  If  therefore,"  says  the  doctor,  "  she  had  been  the  daughter  of  Pharaoh, 
**  her  mother's  house  would  have  betn  in  Bgypt ;   whereas  the  scene  of 
**  this  poem  evidently  lies  at  Jerusalem.*'    Sec  Hr.  Hodosob's  Version  of 
this  Poem»  «Aisles  tn  chap.  iiL 

The  quotations  ftom  the  Ciaiticles  in  this  and  the  last  («ciurs  fiefhkCi 
fy  taken  from  the  abovt;  ekgant  publication.    T* 


L«€T.  Hi  OF  SOLOMON.  iZX 

vise,  that  this  production  be  treated  according  to  the 
establistied  rules  of  this  kind  of  allegory,  fully  and  esu 
pressly  delivered  in  the  sacred  writings,  and  that  the 
author  be  permitted  to  be  his  own  interpreter.  In  this 
respect  the  errors  of  critics  and  divines^^  have  bren  aa 
nunoerous  as  they  have  been  pernicious*  Not  to  men- 
tion other  absurdities,  they  have  taken  the  allegory  not 
as  denoting  the  universal  state  of  the  church,  but  the 
spiritual  state  of  individuals ;  than  which,  nothing  can 
be  more  inconsistent  with  the  very  nature  and  ground* 
work  of  the  allegory  itself,  as  well  as  with  the  general 
practice  of  the  Hebrew  poets  on  these  occasions. 

It  remains  to  offer  a  few  remarks  upon  the  style  of 
this  poem.  I  formerly  intimated  that  it  was  of  the  pas- 
toral kind ;  since  the  two  principal  personages  are  rep* 
resented  in  the  character  of  shepherds.^  This  circum* 
stance  is  by  no  means  incongruous  to  the  manners  of 
the  Hebrews,  whose  principal  occupation  consisted  in 
the  care  of  cattle  .^  nor  did  they  consider  this  employ- 
ment as  beneath  the  dignity  of  the  highest  characters. 
Least  of  all,  could  it  be  supposed  inconsistent  with  the 
character  of  Solomon,^^  whose  father  was  raised  from 
the  sheep  fold  to  the  throne  of  Israel.  The  pastoral  life 
is  not  only  most  delightful  in  itself,  but,  from  the  par* 
ticular  circumstances  and  manners  of  the  Hebrews,  is 
possessed  of  a  kind  of  dignity.  In  this  poem  it  is  adorn* 
ed  with  all  the  choicest  colouring  of  language,  with  all 
the  elegance  and  variety  of  the  most  select  imagery. 
**  Every  part  of  the  Canticles,''  says  a  modern  writer, 
**  abounds  in  poetical  beauties ;  the  objects,  which  pre* 

U  BSBVABSf  DURBAX»  SAVCTIVty  B0S8V1T«  &C. 

M  See  chap.  i.  7»  8.  m  Ste  Giir.  zlvL  33—34. 

1'  Though  not  inconsistent  with  Solomon,  yet  exceedingly  to  in  respect 
to  hb  supposed  Egyptian  bride,  as  shepherds  were  held  in  abomination  by 
^E^iypUans.    This  confinn^  Hr.  Hod^;saiif«  ides  m  the  t3tk  note.    S.  Ik 


49$  OP  THE  SONG  Lxer.  SK 

"  sent  themselves  on  every  side,  are  the  choicest  plants, 
**  the  most  beautiful  flowers,  the  most  delicious  fruits, 
"  the  bloom  and  vigour  of  spring,  the  sweet  verdure  of 
*^  the  fields,  flourishing  and  well- watered  gardens,  pleas- 
**  ant  streams,  and  perennial  fountains.  The  other  senses 
**  are  represented  as  regaled  with  the  most  precious  o- 
*^  dours,  natural  and  artificial ;  with  the  sweet  singing 
^*  of  birds,  and  the  soft  voice  of  the  turtle  ;  with  milk 
**  and  honey,  and  the  choicest  of  wine.  To  these  en- 
'*  chantments  are  added  all  that  is  beautiful  and  grace- 
**  ful  in  the  human  form,  the  endearments,  the  caresses, 
*^  the  delicacy  of  love ;  if  any  object  be  introduced  which 
**  seems  not  to  harmonize  with  this  delightful  scene» 
"  such  as  the  awful  prospect  of  tremendous  precipices, 
*'  the  wildness  of  the  mountains,  or  the  haunts  of  the  li- 
**  ons ;  its  eflfect  is  only  to  heighten  by  the  contrast  the 
'^  beauty  of  the  other  objects,  and  to  add  the  charms  of 
^  variety  to  those  of  grace  and  elegance.*'^*  In  the  fol- 
lowing passage  the  force  and  splendour  of  description  is 
united  with  all  the  softness  and  tenderness  of  passion : 

**  Get  thee  up  my  companiooy 

^  My  lovely  one,  come  away  s 

M  For  lo  !  the  winter  is  past, 

<<  The  rain  is  over,  is  gone, 

*«  The  flowers  are  seen  on  the  earth ; 

^  The  season  of  the  song  is  come, 

<<  And  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land  : 

<<  The  fig-tree  puts  forth  its  green  figs, 

^  And  the  vine's  tender  grapes  yield  a  fragrance  : 

^  Arise,  my  companion,  my  fair  one,  and  come/*^ 

The  following  comparisons  abound  in  sweetness  and 
delicacy : 

"  How  sweet  is  thy  love,  O  my  sister,  O  spouse, 
«  How  much  better  than  wine  is  thy  love, 

fl  BoMVBT,  Preface  to  the  Csntidet.  *»  Chap.  ii.  ICH-li- 


iiMT.  31.  OP  SOLOMON.  439 

<<  And  the  odour  of  thy  perfumes  than  all  spices  1 

<<  Thy  lipsy  O  spouse,  distil  honey  from  the  comb, 

«  Honey  and  milk  are  under  thy  tongue, 

<<  And  the  scent  of  thy  garments  is  like  the  fragrance  of  Lebanon/ls 

There  are  some  others  which  demand  a  more  accurate 
investigation. 

«  Thy  hair  is  like  a  flock  of  goats, 
«  That  browse  upon  Mount  Gilead.**** 

The  hair  of  the  goats  was  soft,  smooth,  of  a  yellow  cast, 
like  that  of  the  bride  ;**  her  beautiful  tresses  are  compar- 
ed with  the  numerous  flocks  of  goats  which  covered  this 
flourishing  mountain  trom  the  top  to  the  bottom. 
«  Thy  teeth  are  like  the  shorn  flock** 

»  ehap.  ir.  10, 11. 

ti  Chsp.  iv.  1 — 5.  "  It  18  by  no  means  an  easy  matter  to  produce  any 
**  other  explanation  of  this  and  the  following  words,  than  that  which  had 
**  long  since  been  received  by  the  old  translators.  The  word  which  is  here 
"  rendered  hrvrnte^  denotes  in  the  Arabic  t9  ateend^  or  rt  pa9$/rom  a  lower 
*<  to  a  higher  tituatUm  g  and  I  scarcely  see  how  this  sense  can  be  admitted 
**  in  this  place.  The  LXX  haTe  it  wtmOMfktfta^  and  in  chap.  vi.  4^  onfeune» 
**  (they  appear.)  Bat  the  word  u  thine  will  perhaps  agree  better  both  ia 
*'  this  passage  and  wherever  this  word  occurs.  But  if  the  verb  v^s  be  tak- 
**  en  in  this  passage  in  the  sense  of  ascending',  we  must  take  the  whole  as 
<<  it  is  above  expressed ;  namely,  as  descriptive  of  a  flock  of  goats  covering 
'*  the  side  of  the  mountain  from  the  bottom  to  the  top."    H. 

Ckiliuh  does  not  mean  to  browte  or  to  appear^  but  to  ascend,  whether  we 
ibllow  the  Septua^^t,  the  Syriac,  the  Vulgate,  or  the  Arabic  copy.  The 
use  of  the  latter  word  in  this  place  is  not  indeed  very  easy  to  conceive,  as 
<*  to  ascend  from  mount  Oilead**  appears  an  odd  phrase.  Possibly  the  pas** 
sage  ought  to  bo  construed—"  Thy  locks  axe  as  a  flock  of  gosta  AsemM 
^  ISO,  vHeh  are  teen  from  osount  Gilead."    M. 

Thy  hair  is  like  a  herd  of  goata 

That  go  down  from  mount  Oilead  [in  the  morning  to  the  watering.] 
Beriving  «Va  from  an  Arabic  wovd,  iriiich  Sehulten»  explains  9o  gouhe 
tratered  in  the  morning. 

T%u  BBOWBs  is  a  sense  obtained  from  the  Syriac  sod  Chaldee.  Those 
who  render  the  word  ehine^  are  indebted  to  a  tcinspositiion  of  letters  in  aVr 
tnow^  for  this  signification.    S.  H. 

ss  See  chap.  viL  5,  and  compare  1  Sam.  xix.  13, 15  with  xvi.  13.  Coe« 
suit  BocBAXT,  Hieroz.  paK  L  lib.  ii.  51. 

0  c<  The  Verb  koixab  means  to  «a  o^  or  eul  thwn  ;  the  interpretatbfii'^ 


440  OF  THE  SONG  Lsct.  ft. 

«  Wluch  have  come  up  from  the  washing  placei 

«  All  of  which  have  twins,*^ 

<<  And  none  among  them  is  bereaved.** 

The  evenness,  whiteness,  and  unbroken  order  of  the. 
teeth,  is  admirably  expressed. 

^^  Like  the  twice-died  thread  of  crimson  are  thy  lipfl» 
((  And  thy  language  is  sweet." 

That  is»  thin  and  ruby-coloured,  such  as  add  peculixr 
gnoea  to  the  sweetness  of  the  voice» 

«  Like  the  sKce  of  a  pomegranate 

M  Are  thy  cbeeka  amidst  thy  tresses.^ 

^  therefore,  of  the  word  ketzubot,  (shorn)  which  many  hare  adopted,  and 
**  which  it  confirmed  by  all  the  old  translations,  appears  to  me  the  mdst 
•*  probable.    From  the  same  vei^,  I  think»  may  be  deduced  the  aignifica- 

*  tion  precuely  efual^  intimating  thait  the  sheep  were  all  exactly  ahorn  to 
^  one  staodard  as  it  were.    (See  Bocba«t,  Hicroz.  part  L  lib.  iL  45.) 

*  Will  not  this  sense  better  suit  the  connexion  ?  Is  not  the  wMteneM  and 
**  ^ciri^  of  sheep  (and  so  of  teeth)  expressed  in  these  two  lines,  rather 
**  than  their  evenmu,  which  seems  to  be  iacliaded  in  those  that  follow  i 

H. 

S4  "  Tbe  Arabic  verb  DKH  denotes  not  only  U  bring  forth  twint»  but  alsQ 
^  to  have  a  tompamon  :  whence  DKin  joined,  or  connected  in  a  oerieo  g  and 
^  iramn,  says  Gouus,  is  a  pearl,  from  the  link,  or  order  of  the  pearls. 
**  Nothing  can  be  mere  expressive  than  this  image  of  the  beautiful  regu<« 
**  larity  and  equality  of  tlie  teeth.  The  learned  Mxchailis  prefers  twine, 
**  referring  perhaps  to  the  counterpart  in  the  next  member."    H. 

ss  «  Behind  thgt  veii,  says  Michaels  from  the  Arabic  ent  «•  /meten  <•• 
^Srtker.'  and  the  weU-known  noniD  Wt\^U  Giggeius  to  have  a  e$ip0$ed 
**  head  /  plaeed  within  a  small  integument"    H. 

**  As  the  opening  blossom  of  the  pomegranate  are  thy  checks» 

«  From  within  thy  locks." 
Simon  accnnEtely  interprets  nbs  by  the  burttii^  firth  of  a  fiemer,  and 
CKiarim  fay  Wmf §!■'>>%  a  word  which  Pliny  will  enable  us  to  ^qilain.  He 
observes,  that  the  embryo  of  the  pomegranate,  which  has  its  origin  in  the 
Sower,  is  railed  by  the  CSreeks  dfyatw  /  and  adds,  that  the  young  blossom 
•  which  breaks  forth  before  the  fruit  becomes  yisible,  is  distinguished  by 
the  name  htdauetium.  Dioscorides,  however,  has  remarked,  that  haXmintivm 
b  tbe  blossum  of  the  wtU;  and  c»tymw  of  the  eumvated  pomegranate.  [See 
Notes  on  Yathek,  p.  309,  lie.]— ITDV  here  translated  locks  in  a  figurative 
sense,  is  propeily  tliat  radiated  down  which  grows  round  tlie  blossom  of 
the  pomegnmate,  and  partially  shades  it,  as  the  hair  does  the  cheeks.  S.  U. 


Lbct.  31.  OF  SOLOMON.  441 

Partly  obscured,  as  it  were,  by  her  hair,  and  exfaibitmg 
a  gentle  blush  of  red  from  beneath  the  delicate  shade^ 
as  the  seeds  of  the  pomegranate  (the  colour  of  which  is 
w|iite  tinged  with  red)  surrounded  by  the  rind« 

M  Thy  neck  U  like  the  tower  of  David 

«*  Built  for  an  armoury  ;*•  .     . 

M  A  thousand  shields  are  hun|^  up  agaiast  it, 

«(  All  bucklers  for  the  mighty." 

The  neck  is  described  as  long,  erect,  slender,  according 
to  the  nicest  proportion  ;  decorated  with  gold,  gems, 
and  large  pearls.  It  is  compared  with  some  turret  of 
the  citadel  of  Sion,  more  lofty  than  the  rest,  remarkable 
for  its  elegance,  and  not  less  illustrious  for  its  architect- 
ure than  for  the  trophies  with  which  it  was  adorned, 
being  hung  round  with  shields  and  odier  implements  of 
war. 

^  Thy  two  breasts  are  like  two  young  kids, 

<*  Twins  of  the  gazai,  that  browse  among  the  lilies.'*^ 

Delicate  and  smooth,  standing  equally  prominent  from 
the  ivory  bosom.     The  animal  with  which  they  are 

stt  **  Trhe  word  nrsbn,  which  may  be  Dumbered  among  those  that  occur 
**  but  once,  certain  critics,  says  R.  L.  B.  Gershom,  derive  from  rr^,  to 
*«  suspend,  and  nrs,  that  is,  ma'nn,  of  a  sword :  others  from  nbn,  ami  »|ba 
'*  1000,  suppose  of  swords :  thus  in  the  following  sentence,  «^^n  prsn  nblt 
**  fbp  will  afford  sn  etymological  explication  of  this  word."  H. 
sr  <<  Thy  two  paps  are  like  two  yoimg  kids, 

^  Twins  of  the  g^zal,  « 

*•  That  browse  amongst  the  lilies.'* 
The  points  of  similitude  between  the  objects  here  compared,  I  apprehend 
So  consist : 

1.  In  the  eoloitr  of  these  young  snimsls,  which  in  the  original  is  called 
*»9  white  deepening'  inte  red  (from  an  Arabic  word  of  this  import)  whence 
thi;ir  name  is  derived. 

2.  In  their  reloHve  height,  as  just  rising  above  the  growth  of  lilies :  the)r 
being  compared  to  "  paps  thai  never  gone  euek.** 

These  circumstances  are  noticed  to  justify  this  translation,  ibr  theySnunt 
•f  a  BOB,  neither  in  eoleur  nor  height,  at  all  correspond  to  the  objects 
compared.    S.  H. 

56 


Ht  OP  TU£  SkONO  Lbct.»I« 

fonpared  i$  an  animal  of  le^qubite  beauty,  and  fram 
(hat  circumstance  it  dertvca  it&  name  in  the  Hebrew» 
Nothiogr  can,  I  think,  be  imagmcdt  more  traly  elegBBt 
and  poetical  than  all  these  pass^^a,  nothing  more  apt 
or  expressive,  than  ihtae  cooiparisGfnsii  .  Th«  discovery 
of  these  excellencies,  however,  ontjr  serves  to  increase 
our  regret  for  the  many  beauties  which  we  have  lost, 
the  perhaps  superior  graces,  which  extreme  antiquity 
s^ms  to  have  overcast  wkh  an  impenetrable  shade.* 

'  90  tt  i«  i^ch  to  be  U^neAted.  Uiai  no  eomn^enUtor  ha»  arben  tufll«ientl|» 
qualified  to  explain  this  beautiful  poem.  Those  who  h&VjC  atteinpte«^  it  ha^ 
been  scholastic  dirines,  rather  indeed  nystics,  and  hare  entirely  overlook- 
ed tbe  oturious  and  mone  elegant  meaning.  Ibdeed  the  task  b  by  no  meana 
efsy  i-  bfBaides.  a.  yery  accurate  and  id^omaticml  knowledge  of  the  Orient^ 
^gfuages,  an,  intin^ite  acquaintance  with,  the  mannprs  of  antiquity,  and  no^ 
tmall  mibrmation  concerning  natural  history,  wiH  be  requisite :  to  theK 
must  be  added  a  good  deal  of  reading  in  the  Arabic  poetry,  particularigr  m 
iht'ir  compositions  of.  the  amorous  kind,  and  last  of  aU  a  true  taste  for  po- 
etry. Ver>'  few  of  these  qualities  have  existed  separately,  and  never  all  of 
them  conjunctly  in  those  who  have  undertaken  to  illustrate  this  poem. 

In  order  to  ei^empUiy  how  much,  might  be  effected,  towards  clearing  wg 
the  obscurities,  of  this  most  elegant  composition,  by  a  knowledge  of  natural 
bistory  .alone,  I  wiH  endeavour  to  explain  my  «pinion  of  some  difficult  pat* 
sages  (chap.  v.  11,  14.  vii.  6,  14.)  In  ch.  v.  ver.  6,  II.  most  people  are  ig- 
nofwit,  and  at  a  loss  to  conjecture,  what  may  be  the  meaning  of  D*bnbn  r 
the  SeveiUy  and  the  Vulgate  render  it  ihmntf  (elatas)  or  tbe  down)  sub-' 
stance  in  wtuch  the  dates  are  involved ;  nor  is  this  translation  very  differ- 
«It  from.tbe  Arabic,  which  renders  it  the  ^nmrA  of  the  pahn  tree  Jrmn 
•wideh  the  dates  depend.  But  what  relation  can  this  bear  to  the  human  bair  9 
I  answer,  the  resemblance  is  obvious  to  «ny  person»  who  ha»  sew  the  ob- 
ject  of  the  comparison,  or  has  remarked  tbe  plate  of  it  annexed  to  tbe 
notes  on  Theepkraetu^e  ffuterg  rf  JRtenit  4y  Jo.  Btrnavs.— But  how  is  Sol- 
omon couststbnt,  in  the  same  verse  speaking  of  ravsen  locks,  and  a  goldc»* 
head.^ 

**  His  bead  is  of  pure  gold, 

**  The  locks  of  uhicb  resemble  tbe  braneheaof  the  palm>tx«e, 

**  And  black  as  the  raven.** 
Up  reccnclle  this  difficulty,  it  is  necessary  to  know,  that  although  the  O- 
rientals  may  possibly  admire  rmven  leekt  in  their  natural  state,  yet  they- 
are  accustomt^  to  die  them  with  henna  (so  they  call  the  oil  of  privet)  In 
order  to  give  them  a  yellow  or  golden  cast  r  thb  ia  an  ancient  custom,  thougk 
the  existence  of  it  among  the  Hebrews  may  be  disputed ;  but  probably,  for- 


tsmn.  3a«  OF  SOLOMON.  «MP 

this  same  purpbie  ^sutf  toight  make  uic^  df  gold  dttftt»  u  thelAtiiis  are 
Jknown  to  have  done. 

With  the  same  hcyna  they  atain  the  countenance,  as  well  aa  the  hands 
«nd  arms,  which  first  changes  them  to  an  azure  blue,  and  they  gi*ow  yellow 
by  degrees ;  and  this  they  esteem  a  gre^t  object  of  beauty,  though  it  would 
Jbe  accounted  deformity  with  us. — ^This  observation  will  enable  us  to  un- 
ders^jid  better  some  {Ju'as^s  in  the  14ih  and  l^th  verses  bt  the  same 
chapter :  ,j     , 

«His  hands 4rs;iMiigoldri«gs     . 

**  Inlaid  wilh  chrysolite  i 

"  His  belljr  08  pli^tes  0f  ivory, 

'■Inclosed  in '.sapphire 'I   » 

'*  Hia  legs  ate  aajeoliUDns  of  maible 

'*  Upon  a  base  of  gold*" 

The  fingers  being  stained  with  henna,  appeared  as  if  lEhey  liad  gold  ringt 
on,  set  with  chrybolite ;  which  gem  was  formerly  of  a  yellow  colour.  I 
«ay  formerly,  because  the  same  stone  which  we  call  the  topaz  was  the  an- 
cient chrysolite.  (See  Hill's  Hitt,  of  Fouih.J  But  if  by  the  word  tar^ 
sMih  we  understand  the  ancient  hyacinth  or  amethyst,  an  azure  colour  will 
then  be  alluded  to,  which  the  same  henna  produces  on  the  skin.  The 
whiteness  of  the  body,  covered  with  a  delicate  purple  vest,  is  finely  com- 
pared to  ivory  overlaid  with  sapphire.  Sbeth  is  without  doubt  figured 
marble :  to  which  the  legs  and  thighs  are  compared,  from  the  blue  and 
serpentine  veins  which  run  alon^  them,  and  which  are  more  pellucid  in 
proportion  to  the  fineness  of  the  skin.    The  bases  are  golden  slippers. 

The  5th  verse  of  the  viith  chapter  is  among  the  most  difficult.  The 
head  of  the  king's  daughter  is  con^a^  to  the  pyramidal  top  of  Carmel, 
covered  with  thick  trees,  by  which  simile  is,  I  apprehend,  intimated  the 
«quantity  and  beauty  of  her  hair.  The  word  dallat  also  occurs  for  hair,  in 
the  explanation  of  which  commentators  have  been  .g^atly  perplexed; 
Aome,  led  Away  by  a  whimsical  etymology,  have  supposed  it  to  mean  thin 
hair,  as  if  this  could  possibly  be  a  subject  of  flattery  to  a  young  lady.  In 
my  opinion,  the  word  is  derived  firom  the  Arabic,  as  well  as  the  Chaldaic 
word  yVv  (the  fringe  of  a  garment  or  tent)  and  means  any  thing  pendant» 
or  hangmg  loose.  The  hair  is  compared  to  purple,  not  however,  I  think^ 
on  account  of  the  colours  for  the  henna»  with  which  they  stained  their 
hair,  makes  it  yellow,  not  purple :  I  suspect  some  allusion  is  rather  intend- 
ed to  the  animal  which  produces  purple.  That  animal  is  of  a  pyramidal 
form,  rising  beautifully  in  a  spiral  cone,  whence  it  is  called  aregman,  from 
its  likeness  to  the  stone  monuments.  There  follows  D^ma  niON  *]bo, 
which,  with  some  degree  of  hesitation,  1  venture  to  translate,  *'  as  a  king 
encircled  witli  a  diadem :"  the  Septuagint  has  it  or  vroffvfa  fiarOLSof,  trtf^Jt/juvn 
Mkn/Mo-*.  The  upright  Oriental  tiara  is  alluded  to,  the  m^rk  of  royalty, 
which  is  more  noble  the  higgler  it  is.  Thus  the  verse  may  be  explained,  and 
it  will  then  be  found  to  present  a  just  picture  of  the  oriental  head-drcss ; 
*'  Thine  head  resembles  Carmel  .* 


444  OF  THE  SONG)  kc.  Lbst.  31. 

*<  And  thine  hair  is  raised  like  the  sbell  of  the  purple, 
**  Like  ft  king*  encircled  with  diadems." 
In  the  latter  rerses  of  the  same  chapter  there  is  an  el^;ant  descnption 
of  springs,  hut  what  chiefly  creates  difficuh^r  is  the  dudoum^  which  are  said 
to  produce  odourt.  The  famous  CsLsirs,  in  his  Sacred  Botany,  aeems  to 
have  been  peculiarly  unfortunate  on  this  subj^^^*  '^'^  ^^'^  ^  translated 
mandragora  (or  mandrake)  on  the  most  ancient  authority :  but  Cebius  can- 
not allow  this  plant  any  place  in  a  love  poem,  because  it  has  in  reality  a 
bad  smell.  The  text  explained  from  the  Arabic  is,  **  The  mandrakes  pro- 
duce a  ttnmg  odour."  We  must  remember,  that  it  was  the  opinion  of  all 
the  Orientals,  that  the  mandrake  was  of  especial  eflkacy  in  love  potions  i 
the  truth  of  which  opinion  is  of  no  concern  to  us,  if  we  only  allow  it  to 
have  been  the  general  opinion  of  the  eastern  nations.  The  text  thcivfiore 
implies,  "  The  mandrake  will  breathe  ita  8tron|p  and  somniferous  odours, 
and  p^Toke  to  lovf ."    M. 


LECTURE  XXXII. 

OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB. 

m  order  to  criticise  the  book  of  Job  with  any  degree  of  Batisfaction  to  bis 
.  «udltor^  the  critic  must  explain  his  own  sentiments  concerning  the  work 
in  general— The  book  of  Job  a  singular  composition,  and  has  little  or  no 
connection  with  the  affairs  of  the  Hebrews— The  seat  of  the  history  is 
IduniKa :  and  the  characters  are  evidently  Idumaean  of  the  family  of 
Abraham  «  the  author  appears  to  be  an  Idumxan,  who  spoke  the  Hebrew 
as  his  vernacular  tongue— Neither  Eiihu  por  Moses,  rather  Job  himself» 
or  some  contemporary— This  appears  to  be  the  oldest  book  extant: 
founded  upon  true  history,  and  contains  no  allegory— Although  extreme- 
ly obscure,  still  the  general  subject  and  design  are  sufficiently  evident — 
A  short  and  general  analysis  of  the  whole  work ;  in  which  the  obscurer 
passages  are  brought  as  little  as  possible  in  question— The  deductions 
from  this  i^squisition— 1.  The  subject  of  the  controversy  between  Job 
and  his  friends — 2,  The  subject  of  the  whole  poem— 3.  Its  end  or  pur^ 
pose — ^AU  questions  not  necessarily  appertaining  to  this  point  to  be 
avoided. 

Ouch  a  diversity  of  opinions  has  prevailed  in  the  learn- 
ed world  concerning  the  nature  and  design  of  the  Poem 
of  Job,  that  the  only  point  in  which  commentators  seem 
to  agree,  is  the  extreme  obscurity  of  the  subject.  To  en- ' 
gage,  therefore,  in  an  undertaking  on  which  so  much  eru* 
dition  has  been  expended,  to  tread  the  same  paths  which  so 
many  have  already  traversed  in  vain,  may  seem  to  re- 
quire some  apology  for  the  temerity,  not  to  say  the  pre- 
sumption of  the  attempt.  Though  I  might  alledge,  that 
the  authority  of  the  most  learned  men  is  lessened  in  some 
iqeasure  by  the  discordance  of  their  opinions ;  and  that 
therefore  the  failure  of  others  is  the  more  readily  to  be 
excused  i  I  willy  however,  make  use  of  no  such  defence^ 


446  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lbot.  S3. 

but  will  entrench  myself  rather  in  the  necessity  and  in 
the  nature  of  my  present  undertaking.  I  pretend  not  to 
any  new  discoveries ;  I  presume  not  to  determine  the 
subtile  controversies  of  the  learned ;  I  scarcely  venture 
to  indulge  a  hope  of  being  able  to  able  to  illustrate  any 
obscurities.  My  sde  intention  is  to  collect,  from  such 
passages  as  appear  the  least  intricate,  the  most  probable 
conjectures :  and  what  I  conceive  to  have  any  tolerable 
foundation  in  fact,  that  I  mean  to  propose,  not  as  de* 
monstration,  but  as  opinion  only.  I  proceed  tn  this  man- 
ner upon  the  principle,  that,  considering  the  great  dis- 
cordance  of  sentiments  upon  this  subject,  it .  would  be 
impossible  for  any  man  to  discourse  with  a  sufficiem  de- 
gree of  accuracy  und  perspicuity  upon  the  structure  and 
parts  of  this  poem,  unless  he  previously  explained  his 
own  ideas  concerning  the  scope  and  purport  of  tlie  work 
in  general. 

The  book  of  Job  appears  to  me  to  stand  8ii^[ie  and 
unparalleicrd  in  the  Sacred  Volume.  It  seems  to  have 
littie  connexion  with  the  other  writings  of  the  Hebrews, 
and  no  relation  whatever  to  the  aftairs  of  the  Israelites. 
The  sKieAc  is  laid  in  Iduniasa  ;^  the  history  of  an  inhab- 

»  The'infonnation  which  the  learned  have  cndeiwoufed  to  collect  from  the 
^vritn^  iend  geog;nipliy  of  the  Greeks  conceBaing  the  ootmtly  and  re«i<eBce 
of  Job  and  his  frteads^  appears  to  roe  so  verjr  inconclusive*  thafl  amincUn- 
ed  to  taltt  a  quite  diiferent  method  for  tlie  solution  of  this  question,  by  ap- 
plyb?!^  solely  to  the  SacT^  Writing^ :  the  hmts  with  which  they  hav«  ftir- 
nished  me  tpwfod^  the  iiUiatratian  of  this  aulj^ect^.  ft  abali  ezpia&ft  a*  bneflf 
as  possible. 

The  land  of  KTz,  or  Omrfx,  is  evidently  Idunuea,  as  appears  from  Lajk. 
in  Sl^  Vy  WM  the  gnmdaon  of  Seir,  the  Hbrhe :  Gsk.  xxxvi  30,  21,  28« 
1  Cvaox.  i.  38, 43>  Seir  inliabifted  that  mountaiaous  tract  whicih  was  caUrd 
by  his  name  antecedent  to  the  time  of  Abraham,  but  lus  posterity  bein^  ex« 
pelled,  it' Was  occupied  by  the  lUumseans  :  Gxv.  xiv.  6.  Dsct.  ii.  X%  Two 
other /nen  are  mentioned  of  the  name  Uxf  one  tibe  gtandson  of  Shemi- 
|he  other  tiie  son  of  Nachor,  the  brother  of  Abraham ;  but  whether  any  dift< 
trict  was  called  after  iheir  name  is  not  clear.  ldumz;i  is  a  part  of  Ar^bi^ 
^f  trxa,  sitaated  on  the  southern  extttmity  of  the  tribe  of  Jiidah :  Svni' 


Lbct.31.  op  TBE  PdCM  op  job.  4i7 

itant  of  that  coontiy  is  the  basis  of  the  narrative ;  the 
charaelcrs  who  speak  are  IdufAseans^  or  at  least  Anibian$ 

sxxiv.  3.  JfWH.  XT.  1»  31 ;  tke  land  of  Us  thertfbreappn»  to  htLve  been  be* 
tve«n  Egypt  Md  Philistia.  Jik.  zxt.  20.  where  the  order  of  the  place! 
teKm»  to  have  been  «ccurate&y  obierved  hi  reviewmg  the  different  nations 
from  Egypt  to  Babylon ;  and  the  same  people  seem  ag»in  to  be  described 
in,  ti^a^Uy  the  satK  situations»  Jxn.  zlri— 1. 

ChU4r^  \f  thf  Etm  or  £ai«ers  people,  seems  to  ha:To  been  &e  genend 
ai^>elUiiOB  for  that  mingled  race  of  people  (as  they  are  called,  Jer.  xzr.  30.) 
who  inhabited  between  Egypt  and  the  Euphrates,  bordering  upon  Judea 
firom  tiie  Soulh  to  the  East ;  the  Idumcana,  the  Amalekites,  the  Bfidianitef , 
1^  MkMbites,  the  Ammonites :  see  Jvn.  vi.  3.  and  Isa.  xi.  14.  of  these  the 
Idunucans  and  Amalekites  certainly  possessed  the  southern  parts;  see 
Ntrxa.  xxxiy.  3.  xiiL  2S^     1  Sax.  xxviL  8,  10.    This  appears  t&be  the  true 
state  of  the  case :  the  whole  region  between  Egypt  and  Euphrates  was  calll 
ed  the  East,  at  first  in  respect  to  Egypt  (where  the  learned  Jos.  Mede 
thinks  the  Israelites  acquired  this  mode  of  speaklfijg.    Mkdb's  VFerkef  page 
580.)  and  afterwards  absolutely  and  without  any  relation  to  situation  or 
Gircumstanees.    Abraham  is  said  to  bane  sent  the  sons  of  his  concubines, 
Bagar  and  Keturah»  **  Eastward,  to  the  country  which  is  commonly  called 
the  East."    Gsx.  xxr,  6.  where  the  name  of  die  region  seems  to  have  been 
derived  from  the  same  situation.    Solomon  is  teported  **  to  have  excelled 
in  wisdom  all  the  Eastern  people^  and  all  Egypt:*  1  Kives  iv.  30,  that  is, 
all  the  neighbouring  people  on  that  quarter :  for  there  were  people  beyond 
the  boundaries-  of  Egypt,  and  bordering  on  the  south  of  Judea,  who  were 
Amdous  ibr  wisdom,  namely,  the  Idumaeans,.  (see  Jxa.  xlix.  T.  Os.  8.)  to 
whom  we  may  well  believe  this  passage  might  have  some  relation-.    Thus 
JanovAB  addiesses  the-Babgrloniaos :  ^  Arise,  ascend  unto  Kedar,  and  la^ 
waste  the  children  of  the  East,'*  Jan.  xlix.  38.  notwithstanding  these  were 
isally  situated  to  the  west  of  Babylon.    Although  Job,  therefoi^^  be  ae^ 
counted  one  of  the  Orientals»  it  by  no  means  fidlows,  that  his  residenee 
must  be  in  Arabia  Desevta. 

I^if^uut  the  Temamte  .•  Eliphaz  was  the  son  of  Esau,  and  Teman  tiie  sen 
sif  Eliphaz :  Gav.  xxxvL  10, 11.  The  Eliphaz  of  Job  was  without  adoubt  of 
this  race.  Teman  is  certainly  a  city  of  Idumca  i  Jxb.  xUx.  T,  30.  Bus« 
XXV.  13i    Axos  i.  11,  13.    Os.  8,  9. 

BUdad  the  SkuhUe  .*  SJmah  was  one  of  the  sons  ef  Abraham  by  Keturah, 
Whose  posterity  were  numbered  among  the  people  of  the  East,  and  his  sit- 
uation was  probably  contiguous  to  that- of  hb  brother,  Midian,  and  of  hie 
nephews,  Sbebah  and  Dedan :  see  Gair.  xxv.  8  and  3.  Dedan  is  a  city  of 
Idumapa :  Jxn»  xlix.  8,  and  seems  to  have  been  situated  on  the  eastern  side» 
ss  Teman  was  on  the  west,  Ezxk.  xxv.  13.  Prom  Sheba  originated  the 
Sabaeans  in  the  passage  from  Arabia  Felix  to  the  Red  Sea :  Sheba  is  united' 
to  Midian,  Tba.  Ix.  6,  it  is  in  the  same  region  however  with  Midian,  and* 
not  far  from  mount  Hortb,  Exon.  ii.  15,  iiL  1. 


448  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lbct.  ». 

of  the  adjacent  country,  all  originally  of  the  race  of  A- 
braham.     The  language  is  pure  Hebrew,  although  the 

Zophtw  tbd  ^aamathUe  :  tanatkg  the  cities,  which  by  lot  fell  to  the  tribe 
of  JacUb»  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Idumaea,  Naama  is  enumerated.  Joss. 
XV.  21»  4t.  Nor  does  this  nsme  elsewhere  occur :  this  probsblj  was  the 
country  of  Zophar. 

EUku  the  Bvzite :  Buz  occurs  but  once  tA  the  name  of  a  place  or  coon- 
try,  Jan.  xzT.  33,  where  it  is  mentioned  along  unth  Dedsn  and  Thema: 
Dedan,  as  was  just  now  demonstrated,  is  a  ci^  of  Idumsa ;  Thema  be- 
longed to  the  children  of  Ishmael,  who  are  said  to  have  inhsbited  irom 
Havilah  even  to  Shur,  which  is  in  the  district  of  Egypt,  Giv.  xzv.  15,  18. 
Saul,  however,  is  said  to  have  smitten  the  Amalekites  from  Havilah  even 
to  Shur,  which  is  in  the  district  of  Egypt,  1  Sax.  xv.  7.  Havilah  cannot, 
therefbfe,  be  very  far  from  the  boundaries  of  the  Amalekites ;  but  the  A- 
malekites  never  exceeded  the  boundaries  of  Arabia  Petrxa.  (See  Rxuivi» 
Palcstin.  lib.  i.  c.  xiv.)  Thema,  therefore,  lay  somewhere  between  Havilsh 
and  the  desert  of  Shur,  to  the  southward  of  Judea.  Thema  is  also  men* 
taoned  in  connexion  with  Sheba,  Job  vi.  19. 

Upon  a  &ir  review  of  these  facts  I  think  we  may  venture  to  condudc» 
•till  with  that  modesty  which  such  a  question  demands,  that  Job  was  aa 
inhabitant  of  Arabia  Petrxa,  as  well  as  his  friends,  or  at  least  of  that 
neighbourhood.  To  this  solution  one  objection  may  be  raised :  it  may  be 
asked,  how  the  Chaldeans,  who  lived  on  the  borders  of  the  Buphrates» 
oould  make  depredations  on  the  camels  of  Job,  who  lived  in  Idumaea  at  so 
great  a  distance.  This  too  is  thought  a  sufficient  cause  for  assigning  Job 
a  situation  in  And>ta  Deserts,  and  not  far  from  the  Euphrates.  But  what 
•hottld  prevent  the  Chaldeans,  as  well  as  the  Sabaeans,  a  people  addicted  to 
rapine,  and  roving  about  at  immense  distances  for  the  sake  of  plunder, 
from  wandering  through  these  defenceless  regions,  which  were  divided  into 
tribes  and  families  rather  than  into  nations,  and  pervading  from  Euphratea 
even  to  Egypt  ?  Further,  1  would  ask  on  the  other  hand,  whether  it  be 
probable  that  all  the  friends  of  Job,  who  lived  in  Idumxa  and  its  neigh» 
bourhood,  should  instantly  be  informed  of  all  that  could  happen  to  Job  in 
the  desert  of  Arabia  and  on  the  confines  of  Chaldea,  and  immediately  repair 
thither .'  Or  whether  it  be  reasonable  to  think,  that,  some  of  them  being 
inhabitants  of  Arabia  Deserta,  it  should  be  concerted  among  diem  to  meet 
at  the  residence  of  Job;  since  it  is  evident,  that  EUphas  lived  at  Tbeman, 
in  the  extreme  parts  of  Idunusa  ?  With  respect  to  the  JImtat  of  Ptolemy 
(for  so  it  is  written,  and  not  AutitatJ  it  has  no  agreement,  not  so  much  as 
in  a  single  letter  with  the  Hebrew  Gnutz,  The  LXX.  indeed  call  that 
country  by  the  name  JlntUida^  but  they  describe  it  as  situated  in  Idum«a } 
and  they  account  Job  himself  an  Idumsan,  and  a  descendant  of  Esau.  See 
tJie  Appendix  of  the  LXX.  to  the  book  of  Job,  and  Uxob,  Not  in  PeritfL 
cha^.  xL    JhithorU  JVltte, 


Lict».  3^,  Ol^  THE  POEM  OP  JOB-  44^ 

duthof  a]!»pears  to  be  an  Iduma^an ;  fdr  it  is  notimprob- 
Able  tHat  all  the  posterity  of  Abraham ,  Israelites,  Idu- 
m'ceans,  artd  Arabians,  whether  of  the  family  of  KeturaH 
Or  Ishmals!,  spok^  for  a  considerable  lengtft  of  time  one 
t6n\Tnon  languagd.  That  the  Idumaeans,  however,  and 
the  Temanites  in  particular,  were  eminent  for  the  repu- 
tation of  wisdom,  ap))ears  by  the  testimohy  of  the  proph- 
ets,  Jeremiah  and  Obadiah:*  Baruch  also  particularly 
mentionis  them  amongst  **  the  authors  (or  expounders) 
df  fabtes,  artd  searcheVs  out  of  understanding,^*  The 
teamed  are  very  much  divided  in  their  sentiments  con- 
cerning the  author  of  this  book.  Our  Lightfoot  con- 
jectures, that  it  is  the  production  of  £lihu ;  and  thi^ 
Conjecture  seems  at  first  sight  rather  countenanced  by 
thte  exordiuhi  td  the  first  Speech  of  Elihu,*  in  which  hd 
^^eems  to  assume  the  character  of  the  author,  by  contin- 
uing the  narrative  in  has  own  person.  That  passdge^ 
fcowever,  which  appears  to  interrupt  the  speech  of  Eli- 
hu,  and  to  be  a  part  of  the  narrative,  is,  I  apprehend, 
nothing  more  than  an  apostrophe  to  Job,  or  possibly  to 
himself ;  for  it  manifestly  consists  of  two  distichs,  while," 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  well  known  that  all  the  narrativei 
parts,  all  in  which  the  aothor  himself  appears  are  cer- 
tiainly  written  in  prose.  Another  opinion,  which  has 
been  still  more  generally  received,  attributes  the  work 
to  Moses.  This  conjecture,  however,  for  I  cannot  dig- 
nify  it  with  any  higher  appellation,  will  be  found  to  rest 
altogether  upon  another,  namely,  that  thb  poem  wa» 
originally  a  consolatory  address  to  the  Israelites,  aiid  an' 
allegorical  representation  of  their  situation :  and  I  must 
confess,  lean  scarcely  conceive  any  thing  more  futile  thanr 
such  an  hypothesis,  since  it  is  impossible  to  trace, 
throughout  the  whole  book,  tlie  slightest  allusion  to  the 

^JauxUx.7.    Ob  a;  8.        »  Bawcb  iil  32,  33.        «  Job.  ztxiL  15, 16; 

57 


450  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lect.  «. 

manners,  customs,  ceremonies»  or  history  of  the  Israd* 
ites.  I  will  add,  moreover,  that  the  style  of  Job  appears 
to  me  materially  difierent  from  the  poetical  ^le  of 
Moses  'r  for  it  is  much  more  compact,  concise,  or  con- 
densedf.  more  accurate  in  the  poetical  conformation  of 
the  sentences  :  as  may  be.  observed  also  in  the  prophe- 
cies of  Balaam,  the  Mesopotamian,  a  foreigner  indeed 
wifli  respect  to  the  Israelites,  but  neither  unacquainted 
)i^^iih  their  language,  nor  with  the  worship  of  the  true 
pud.  I  confess  myself  therefore,  on  the  whole,  more 
inclined  to  favour  tlie  opinion  of  those  who  suppose  Job 
himself,  or  some  contemporary,  to  be  the  author  of  this 
poem  :  for  that  it  is  the  most  ancient  of  all  the  sacred 
books,  is,  I  think,  manifest,  from  the  subject,  the  lan- 
guuj^,  the  general  character,  and  even  from  the  obscu- 
rity of  the  work.'    Concerning  the  time  also  in  which 

*  '  In  opppslticm  to  th^imttqidtr  of  the  poem,-  and  to  wKat  I  have  tirgef! 
alioire,  t])«t  it  appears  to  have  no  connection  with,  or  relaitum  to  th^  Mam 
of  the  Israelites,  appeals  have  been  made  to  Job  xxxi.  38.  See  Jijree  and 
tandid  Ejraminafiim'o/  the  Bithop  of  LondoiCt  Seiftton^  ^n^nymout,  p.  165^ 
In. which  tli«  author  enquirca,  **  In  what  nation  upon  earth  idolatrr  was 
ever  accounted  a  crime  but  under  the  Jewish  economy  ?*'  His  argument  is 
proposed  as  unanswerable^  and  is  thoupht  to  be  sufficiently  confirmed  by 
the  anttiont y  of  Mr  Locke.  I  will  however  appeal  to  a  hig^her  authority 
thuii  that  of  1^h:kk,  namely,  that  of  reaaon  and  the  siered  .writings  s  and 
will  answer  the  question  in  a  few  woids  :  under  the  Patriarchal  Economy, 
in  evei^'  tribe  and  family  under  Abraham,  Melchizt^deck,  Job,  and  the  rest. 
0a  \M  mcitnse  of  idolatry  Abraham  was  called  by  the  divine  command 
fjom^Cbaldfifty  to  the  end,  that  frmn  him  shotild  proceed  a  nation  sepiSrate 
from  all  others,  who  should  worship  the  true  God,  should  afford,  a  peHtct 
example  of  pure  rcl.gion,  and  bear  testimony  against  the  worship  of  rain 
gods.  IWaa  U  not,  thsrefin-e,  tlie.du^  of  Abraliam,  who  in  Ms  own  tribe 
or  fMfaJly  ixisjiessed  al^  the  attributes  #f  sovsreignty,  to  punish  idolatry  as 
Well  as  hutpicide,  adultery,  or  other  heinous  crimes  ?  Was  it  not  the  duty 
of  Melc^-^^deck;  of  Job,  of  all  thbse  patriarchal  princes,  who  regarded 
t^nvbnliip  bf  the  tnis  God»  sedulously  .to  prevent  evexy  defection  from 
it ;  to  restrain  Chose  who  were  di^iescd  to  forsake  it,  and  to  punish  the 
obstinate  aixl  the  nrbcUious  ?  In  fact,  in  this  allusion  to  the  exertion  of  the 
judicial'  authority  .Hgainst  idolatry,  and  against  the  particular  species  which 
is  mcniti'xicd  here,  fiumcly,  the  worship  of  the  sun  and  moon  (the  carlttst 


Lect,  32-  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  4st 

Job  lived»  although  not  directly  specified,  I  see  no  great 
reason  for  doubt.  The  length  of  his  life  evinces  that  fili 
was  before  Moses,  and  probably  contemporary  With^tlie 
patriarchs.  Not  however  to  dwell  upon  the  innumeta- 
ble  hypotheses  of  the  learned  on  this  subject,  I  will  onl/ 
mention,  that  there  is  the  utmost  probability  of  his  havi 
ing  lived  prior  to  the  promulgation  of  the  law,  from  thi 
nature  of  the  sacrifice  which  he  institutes  conformably 
to  the  command  of  God,  namely,  seven  oxen  and  seveii 
rams:  for  it  is  plain  from  the  example  of  Balaam/ that 
a  respect  for  that  number  prevailed  in  those  countries^ 
and  at  that  period,  from  the  traditional  accounts  which 
were  still  preserved'among  them  of  the  seven  days  of  crel 
ation.^    Tiic  truth  of  the  narrative  would  never,  I  ani 

•peciet  of  idoUtr>')  coiialsU  the  raostcoaqtletepfopf  pf  tbeftfkt^uityiof.tlie 
poem,  and  the  decisive  mark  of  the  patriarchal  age.  But  if^  it  should  be 
•uspected»  that  the  ingenuity  of  the  poet  might  l^ad  him  tcNuoitate  witU 
yccurac^  tlie  manners  of  the  age  which  he  describes,  this  indeed,  would  be 
more  to  the  purpose»  and  a  more  plausible  argument  against  the  Aotiquit/ 
of  the  poem  :  but  I  cannot  possibly  attribute  such  address  and  refinement 
to  a  poet  in  a  barbarous  age ;  and  after  the  Babylonish  captivity.  Fuifther 
than  this»  the  style  of  the  poem  favours  altogether  of  the  antique  s  inso- 
much, that  whoever  could  suppose  it  written  after  the  Babylonish  captivi^ 
ty»  would  fall  little  short  of  the  error  of  Hardouin,  who  ascribed  the  gold» 
en  verses  of  Virgil,  Horace,  &c.  to  the  iron  age  of  monkish  pedantry, and 
Ignorance. 

With  regard  to  the  other  difficulty,  the  solution  of  which  appears  so  em* 
barrassing,  namely»  how  any  person  not  acquunted  with  the  Jewish  econ- 
omy  could  assert,  that  **  God  visits  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  chil-. 
dren,"  Job  xxi.  19  \  Let  the  candid  obwerver  for  the  present  content  hinvr 
9elf  with  this  verse  of  Horace. 

"  Delicta  niajorum  immeritB»  Inea, 

••  Bomane."-^— ^ 

*«  Though  guiltless  of  thy  father's  crimes, 

'*  Roman,  'tis  thine,  to  latest  times, 

**  The  vengeance  of  the  gods  to  bear." — ^FaAWcrf . 

^uthof^t  JV'oto. 
•  Job  xlii.  8.    Compare  Numb,  xxiii.  1,  &c. 

There  seems  to  be  but  little  weight  in  this  reasoning,  because  Job,  as  an 
Idumseiui^  mi|[^ht  have  been  a  worship[>er  of  the  true  God,  like  Balaam  the 


4S2  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOl^  Lsct.  92, 

persui^d^  b^vie  been  called  in  question^  bujt  from  ihf 
iromoderate  affection  of  some  alle^rizing  m^'ctics  for 
their  own  fictions»  which  run  to  such  excess,  as  to  pre- 
vent them  from  acceding  to  any  thV^g  but  what  was 
visionary  and  typical.  When  I  speak  of  the  poem  a^ 
founded  in  fact,  I  ^yould  be  understood  no  further  than 
ppncerns  the  jgenera^  sujbject  of  tl^e  narrative,  for  I  ap- 
prehend all  the  dviilogue,  and  most  likely  some  olt^r 
par;^,  hav^  paft^l^^n  largely  of  tt^e  embellishments  of 
poejtr^' ;  but  I  pannot  allow  that  this  has  by  any  meam 
extended  so  far  as  to  convjert  the  whole  into  an  allegory, 
jlndeed  I  have  n^it  been  able  to  trape  any  vestige  of  an 
allegorical  meaning  throughout  the  entire  poem.  An4 
should  evpn  the  c:fprjdium  be  spspectcd  to  be  of  this 
nature/  we  must  recollect,  that  the  historical  books  are 
not  destitute  of  similar  narratives.*    The  exordium  and 

Mesopotumian  i  and  tlierefore,  tliougb  the  law  had  been  j^iFeii  to  the  Isra- 
elites, continued,  notwithstanding^,  to  offer  sacrifice  according  to  the  tn<« 
diticmo/y  mode  of  his  pro^nitors.    S.  H. 

\  T  49%  i<  O9  ftiC.  ii«  I9  &c«    ComjMre  I  Kik«8  xxii.  19—23. 

*  It  has  long^  been  a  dispute  among  the  learned,  whether  the  poen  of  Joh 
consists  of  fable  or  a  true  history  :  this  question,  if  authority  alone  be  ap.* 
|>lied  to,  must  long  since  have  been  decided  in  faTOur  of  those  who  assert 
it  to  be  a  real  history. 

With  me  I  confess,  on  the  other  hand*  it  is  no  longer  matter  of  opinion, 
but  I  feel  very  little  doubt  that  the  subject  of  the  Poem  is  altogetho*  faba« 
lous,  and  designed  to  teach  us  that  *'  the  rewards  of  virtne  being  in  another 
^  state,  it  is  very  possible  for  the  good  to  suffer  afflictions  in  this  life  : 
*'  but  that  when  it  so  happens,  it  is  permitted  by  Providence  for  the  wis« 
**  est  reasons,  though  they  may  not  be  obvious  to  human  eyes."  But  be» 
fore  I  proceed  to  examine  the  grounds  of  this  opinion,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  premise  a  few  remarks  in  reply  to  those  who  may  think  the  divine  au* 
thority  of  the  book  afTected  by  the  supposition  of  its  not  being  founded  la 
fact.  For  my  own  part,  1  cannot  conceive  that  the  sanctity,  the  dignity,  or 
the  utility  of  that  book  will  be  in  the  least  affected,  though  we  should  sttp« 
pose  no  such  person  as  Job  iiad  ever  ei^istect 

If  moral  precepts,  conveyed  in  the  garb  of  fabulous  narrations,  allure  the 
hearers  by  the  pleasure  they  afford,  if  tht^y  strike  the  mind  more  forcib^» 
are  moie  easily  understood,  and  better  retained  than  abstract  sentimentSi^ 


Lkct.  9$.  or  TVS  POSM  OF  JO».  459 

coRclttw>n  J  i\gpe^  4m&  distinct  frpm  the  pono  itself»  and 
stap4  in  .tbp  piai^  of  w  «ni^meiit  or  lUu&triaLiiion ;  ihat 

I  see  no  reason  why  this  mode  of  writinj^  should  be  deemed  unworthy  of 
mspiration.  Indeed,  on  the  contrary,  we  find  it  made  use  of  hy  Christ  him- 
self, nor  does  it  at  all  derogate  from  his  force  as  a  moral  teacher,  that  the 
good  Samaritan,  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus,  &c.  were  not  real  persons. 

I  shall  not  however  rest  here ;  for  I  assert  further,  that  the  book  of  Job 
is  more  instructive  as  a  fkble»  than  it  could  possibly  be  as  a  true  history. 
Taken  as  a  mere  relation  of  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  necessary  to  suppose  that 
the  sentiments  and  conversations  are  exhibited  exactly  as  they  were  spok- 
en, and  are  the  sentiments  of  mere  mortals  not  actuated  by  the  Spirit  of 
God ;  for  we  find  that  God  has  reproved  both  Job  and  his  firiends  as  being 
severally  mistaken.  It  would  then  be  impossible  to  determine  what  was 
true  or  what  false ;  no  doctrine  of  religion,  no  precept  of  morality,  could 
yrith  certainty  be  deduced  from  these  conversations.  In  the  whole  book, 
the  historical  part  (and  how  short  is  that !)  and  the  words  attributed  to 
God  himself  would  be  alone  divine,  or  of  divine  authority,  the  rest  would 
\)e  all  human.  Considered  as  a  fable,  the  case  is  different.  The  author, 
composing  under  the  influence  of  divine  inspiration,  we  may  reasonably 
suppose  has  attributed  to  the  fictitious  characters,  such  sentiments  as  wer^ 
proper  and  natural  to  their  state  and  circumstances  :  we  have  then,  in  the 
first  plac^  a  picture  of  the  human  mind  drawn  by  the  finger  of  God ;  and 
in  the  next,  we  may  rest  satisfied  that  Job  and  his  friends  err  only  in  the 
principal  matter  upon  which  they  dispute,  and  only  on  the  points  for  which 
God  has  reproved  them ;  but  that  whatever  is  said  exclusive  of  this  is 
founded  on  divine  truth ;  such  is  the  mention  of  the  angels  by  Eliphaz, 
god  the  assertion  of  Job,  that  there  is  none  pure  among  mortals.  Fmally, 
we  are  by  these  means  enabled  both  to  determine  what  are  the  sentiments 
which  immediately  meet  with  the  approbation  of  God,  and  what  are  the 
errors  which  are  intended  to  be  exposed.  An  able  writer  in  dialogue  never 
fails  to  discover  his  own  sentiments :  as  from  tlie  books  of  Cicero  on  the 
futiuro  of  the  God»,  we  may  collect  with  ease  what  the  author  thought, 
or  rather  doubted  upon  the  subject,  which  would  have  been  unpoasibie,  if 
lie  had  only  reported  the  actual  words  of  the  philosophers  who  are  sup[>osed 
to  have  conversed  on  that  subject 

I  will  now  proceed  freely  to  explain  what  at  first  I  undertook  to  prove 
eoDceming  the  book  in  question.  It  is  surely  more  becommg  to  consider 
the  exordium,  in  which  Satan  appears  as  the  accuser  of  Job,  rather  in  the 
lig^t  of  a  fable  than  of  a  true  narrative.  It  is  surely  incredible,  that  such 
S  conversation  ever  took  place  between  the  Almighty  and  Satan,  who  is 
si4)posed  to  retuin  with  nevf$  from  the  terrestrial  regions.  Indeed,  the 
commentators  who  have  undertaken  to  vindicate  this  part  of  the  book,. 
have  done  it  with  so  much  asperity,  that  they  seem  conscious  of  the  diffi- 
culty under  which  it  labours. 

Kor  will  it  suffice  to  answer  as  some  temperate  and  rational  commenta- 


454  OP  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lkct.  32. 

they  are  however  coeval  with  the  poetical  part,  and  the 
work  of  the  same  author,  is  evident,  since  they  are  in- 

tor»  like  ear  author,  probably  will,  and  indeed  as  he  himself  hints :  that 
the  great  outline  of  the  fact  only  is  true ;  and  that  the  exordium  is  set  off" 
with  some  poetical  ornaments»  among  which  is  to  be  accounted  the  con- 
Tcrsation  between  God  and  Satan.  For  on  this  very  conversation  the 
whole  plot  is  founded,  and  the  whole  story  and  catastrophe  depends.  One 
of  the  best  of  men  is  tlirown  into  so  many  unexpected  and  undeserved 
evils»  that  neither  he  nor  his  adversaries  are  able  to  conceive  how  it  can 
be  consistent  with  a  benevolent  being,  to  plunge  a  good  man  into  so  great 
afflictions :  nor  has  God  condescended  to  explain  the  motives  of  it  to  them» 
but  reproves  them  all  for  investigating  matters  beyond  their  raach.  But 
the  author  of  the  book  undoes  the  knot  which  Is  left  unresoived  in  these 
conversations»  and  gives  the  reader  to  understand  how  indifferently  those 
reason  concerning  the  Divine  Providence»  and  the  hi^piness  or  misery  of 
mankmd,  wlio  are  only  partially  informed  of  causes  and  events.  The  Al- 
mighty acts  for  the  honour  of  Job»  of  human  nature»  and  of  piety  itself; 
he  permits  Job  to  be  unhi^py  for  a  time,  and  refutes  the  accusations  of 
Satan  even  by  the  very  means  which  be  himself  pointed  out.  Suppose» 
therefore,  that  what  is  thus  related  of  Satan  be  fictitious,  and  all  the  rest 
true»  instead  of  the  difficulty  being  done  away»  the  coniM^uence  will  be» 
that  the  whole  plot  remains  without  any  solution  whatever.  What  our 
author  has  added  concerning  one  of  the  liistorical  books  of  Scripture»  in 
which  a  similar  passage  occurs»  1  Kiires  xxii.  19—93»  appears  not  at  all 
to  the  purpose.  It  is  not  a  history  related  by  the  author»  nor  does  the 
author  speak  in  his  own  person»  but  a  prophet  explains  a  vision  which  he 
has  had.  But  those  who  suppose  the  book  of  Job  to  be  founded  upon  fact» 
allow  tliat  the  historian  speaks  in  the  first  and  second  chapters»  who»  if  he 
did  invent»  would  certainly»  one  would  think,  take  that  liberty  only  in 
matters  which  did  not  affect  the  great  scope  of  the  history,  and  not  in  a 
matter  which»  if  it  be  supposed  fictitious»  reduces  the  whole  book  to  noth- 
ing. 

Moreover»  the  style  of  the  whole  book  being  poetical»  and  so  sublime» 
that  1  defy  any  man  to  imitate  it  in  any  extempore  effusion»  is  an  irrefra- 
gable proof  in  favour  of  my  opinion.  Our  author  indeed  pleads  a  very  spe- 
cious excuse ;  he  thinks  that  the  conversation  and  speeches  of  the  different  ' 
characters  have  been  poetically  ornamented.  And  this  argument  1  do  not 
wish  to  confute.  There  ai«  however  others  who  defend  the  historical 
truth  of  the  poem  in  a  manner  not  quite  so  modest  Among  the  rest»  the 
famous  ScauLTXHs  alledges  it  not  to  be  incredible»  that  these  are  the  actual 
words  of  the  disputants,  if  we  consider  the  amazing  faculty  which  the 
Arabians  possess  of  making  extempore  verses.  In  answer  to  this,  I  must 
confess,  that  all  he  can  urge  on  this  subject  will  never  persuade  me»  that 
poetry»  which  is  confessedly  superior  to  all  that  human  genius  has  been 
able  to  produce»  is  nothing  more  tlum  an  extempore  effusion.    Indeed 


LscT»  33.  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  455 

dispeo^lf  necessary  to  the  unravelling  of  the  plot« 
which  is  not  developed  in  the  body  of  the  poem.    There 

nothing  can  be  more  ridiculous»  than  to  suppose  men  in  circumstances  of 
so  great  distress,  in  the  midst  of  difficulties  and  afflictions»  capable  of 
amusing  themselves  with  making  extempore  verses. 

These  objections  which  I  have  just  stated  are  well  known  to  the  com* 
mentators :  but  there  are  others  not  quite  so  common,  which  induce  me  to 
suppose  the  subject  of  this  poem  not  historical  but  fabulous.  So  many 
round  numbers  and  multiplications  of  them  occur  in  the  life  of  Job»  as  to 
he  quite  incompatible  with  mere  chance.  Ten  children  perish,  teven  ^ns 
(which  though  it  be  not  a  round  number,  is  yet  held  sacred  and  mysteri- 
ous by  the  Orien^ls)  and  three  daughters :  7000  sheep,  3000  camels,  1000 
oxen,  and  exactly  half  the  number  of  asses.  In  lieu  of  these  there  are  res* 
tored  to^  him,  14,000  sheep,  6000  camels,  2000  oxen,  and  1000  asses,  ex* 
actly  th|  duplicate  of  the  former  numbers  s  together  with  exactly  the  same 
number  of  children  as  he  had  lost,  seven  sons  and  three  daughters,  and 
these  from  one  wife.  The  same  principle  is  found  to  extend  to  the  yean 
of  Job's  prosperity,  which  are  multiplications  of  the  number  70,  These 
circumstances  betray  art  and  fiction  in  the  narrator,  who  has  introduced 
these  round  numbers  which  we  know  are  the  first  to  present  themselves  to 
the  mind :  it  bears  no  appearance  of  chance  or  casualty,  which,  when  it 
predominates  in  a  series  of  events,  produces  a  wonderful  variety,  but  very 
little  of  regularity  or  equality.  The  name  of  Job  too,  which  in  the  Arabic 
means  returning  to  God,  and  loving  him,  and  hating  whatever  is  contrary 
to  him,  is  so  adapted  to  the  character  of  his  latter  years,  that  we  can  never 
suppose  it  a  name  given  to  him  by  his  parents,  but  invented  by  the  author 
of  the  story. 

A  fourth  argument  is,  that  the  scene  is  laid  in  Arabia,  yet  the  poem  a- 
bounds  so  much  in  imagery  borrowed  from  Bgypt,  that  it  is  plain  that  coun« 
try  must  hiive  been  extremely  well  known  to  the  author,  and  indeed  pre* 
dominant  in  his  mind,  as  I  have  endeavoured  to  prove  in  a  Dissertation  re- 
cited before  the  R.  S.  of  Gottingen. 

But  the  most  powerful  of  all  proofs  is,  that  some  things  appear  in  th^ 
book  of  Job  which  could  not  possibly  have  place  in  a  true  history.  At  a 
period  when  the  longevity  of  the  patriarchs  was  reduced  within  tlie  limit 
of  two  hundred  years.  Job  b  said  to  have  lived  140  years  afler  his  malady* 
and  therefore  could  not  be  very  ancient  when  he  fell  into  this  malady  t 
nevertheless  he  upbraids  his  friends  with  their  yuih  (who  by  the  way  co\dd 
not  be  very  young,  since  Elihu  in  xxxii.  6,  7,  9.  reverences  their  hoary  age) 
and  adds,  that  "  he  would  have  disdained  to  set  their /aihert  with  the  dogs 
**  of  his  flock,'*  ch.  XXX.  1.  But  what  is  more  extraordinary,  these  same 
men  boast  of  their  own  age,  and  seem  to  exact  a  degree  of  reverence  from 
Job  as  their  junior :  thus  Eliphaz,  chap.  xx.  10,  "  With  us  are  both  the 
"  grey-headed  and  the  very  aged  men  much  older  than  thy  father.**  These 
passages»  therefore,  so  directly  contradict  each  other,  that  they  cannot  be 


4^  or  tH%  tOtHf  &f  ioM.  Uiet.  «h 

are,  it  ts  truv,  phrases  extant  in  the  eyditfinm,  inl  which' 
some  critics  hiive  preterided  to  discovei'  die  hand  of  H 

eonnected^trit^  trtie  hi«bry.  fhe  dpprbbriam  which  ht  caste  updtt  the  birfli 
#f  hit  frieridfl  se^iHB'  afeo  an  inconsitftency,  ch.  xlx.  1—^.  as  it  U  incredible» 
that  BO  noble  and  rich  a'  ifiail  should  ever  have  chosen'  hli  fiiends  from  the' 
meanest  of  the  pec^'lc- 

ft  i^mains  only  to*  remove  oMe  objection,  with  #hich  those  who  contendf 
Ibr  the  historical  tfuih  of  the  book  of  Job  may  press  us.  Job  is  quoted  b/ 
fizetiel  aton^  with  Nbah  and  Daniel,  \^hoin  we  know  to  have  been  real 
IkfBons,  and  they  at^  proposed  by  James  as  an  example  of  patienbe»  Bstc 
tiv.  14,  20.  JaiTbs  v.  11.  as  if  it  were  improper  or  indecent  to  recoilimendf 
the  viitues  of 'fictitious  characters  to  our  imitation,  or  as  if  this  were  nit' 
in  &ct  the  end  of  dellrtetting  such  characters.  Neither  is  there  the  lesst' 
impit)prlety  in  irtstanclnii^'the  same  virtues  in  real  and  fictitioui  characters. 
Suppose  a  fiither  to  recommend  to  his  daughters  the  ekampleri  of  Lucretia 
and  Pamela,  as  models  of  chastity  and  virtue,  who  wduld  eftteeih  such  a 
discourte  reprehensible,  or  think  that  it  dther  todk  from  the  tmth  of  the 
iTistofy,  or  give*  a  reality  tb  the  fiction  f 

To  retam  to  the  point  fh>m  which  we  set  out :  this  poem  seemi  to  treat 
df  the  afRictloii  which  may  sometimes  happen  to  good  men,  at  the  same 
tf me  that  the  tfuthor  seemb  tb  wish  to  accommodate  the  consolation  tb  the 
people  of  God,  and  to  represent  theii*  oppression  and«i'  the  character  of 
Job.  Tb  this  opinion  it  is  objected  by  our  author,  that  there  appears 
ifotbing  in  the  book  like  an  allusion  to  the  manners,  rites,  of  afTairs  of  the 
rsraelites.  Of  the  latter  I  shall  treat,  when  we  conlie  to  spetk  of  the  ap- 
]llicatJon  of  this  poem  to  the  history  of  the  Israelites.  As  to  the  manners, 
they  are  what  I  call  ^&roAaiNJc,  or  such  as  were  at  that  period  common  to 
<nthe  seed  of  Abraham  at  that  time,  fsrielites,  Ikhnkadites,  and  fdamsans. 
But  perhaps  it  may  be  thouj^t  nc^cessary  to  instance  those  customs  which 
Were  peculiar  tb  the  Israditer,  and  by  which  they  were  distinguished  from 
the  Arabians :  this,  howevef,  would  not  display  much  judgement  in  the 
author  of  a  poem,  the  scene  of  which  lies  in  ArabU ;  besides,  that  most  of 
tSie  peculiar  customs  of  the  Israelites,  those  I  mean  which  distinguished 
them  from  the  other  descendants  of  Abraham,  were  either  dh*ived  fit>m  the' 
Egyptians,  or  Were  taught  them  by  Moses :  and  who  would  require,  that' 
■uch  things  as  the  paschal  lamb,  and  ^e  Mosaic  ftauta  and  priesthood, 
should  be  mtroduced  into  such  t  poem  f  The  frequent  allusions  however 
tb  the  comitry  and  the  productions  of  Bgypt  abundantly  answer  this  objeC- 
don.  Inlonrach,  that  though  the  scene  is  laid  in  Arabia,  one  tiDuld  im- 
agine the  actori  had  been  Egyptians.  Kor  are  there  wanting^  allusions  to 
the  cfatutnstances  of  the  Israelites  These  like' Job  lost  their  children  and 
possessions  by  the  tyranny  of  Pharkoh  :  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  dis- 
eUse  is  the  same  which  affected  Job,  wKh  that  which  prevailed  amoi)^  the 
Egyptians  by  the  command  of  Moses. 

From  these  eirtmutaneev  I  «to  much  iilclaBel  to  the  opmkm  wUeh  at* 


LttT.  $».  Of  THE  PO£M  OF  JOB.  4^7^ 

btfer  writrr ;  the  aipiments,  however»  of  these  critics  I 
cinnot  esteem  of  any  great  force  or  importance. 

tributes  this  book  to  Moses.  For  is  it  to  be  imagined,  that  a  native  of 
Humxa  should  crowd  his  poem  with  images  and  figures  borrowed  from 
lftg>-pt  ?  Or  what  natiTe  of  Arabia  (for  it  must  be  allowed  that  the  book  of 
Job  has  some  allusions  peculiar  to  Arabia)  was  so  likely  to  intermingle  the 
Imagery  of  both  countries  as  Moses  ?  To  these  may  be  added  the  allusions 
to  the  itUt  of  the  bleated,  which  are  «ommon  to  the  book  of  Job  and  the 
Mosaic  writings.  I  am  well  aware  that  there  is  more  of  the  tragic,  more 
of  strong  poetic  feeling  in  this  book,  than  in  the  other  relics  of  Mosaic 
poetry,  which  has  induced  our  author  to  remark  the  discrepancy  of  style. 
But  how  different  are  the  language  and  sentiments  of  a  man  raging  in  the 
heighu  of  despair,  from  those  which  are  to  be  sung  in  the  temple  of  God  f 
Vfe  must  also  remember,  that  the  poetic  style  of  an  author  in  the  flower  of 
his  youth  is  very  different  from  that  of  his  latter  days.  If  Moses  were 
really  the  author  of  this  poem,  he  composed  it  about  the  age  of  forty  years ; 
but  the  rest  of  his  poems  Were  written  between  the  85th  and  120th  year 
ef  his  age ;  at  which  period  I  am  often  surprized  to  meet  with  so  much 
vigour  of  lang^ag^  and  sentiment :  and  no  other  difference  of  style  have  I 
been  able  to  discover.    M. 

If  I  might  flatter  myself  that  the  reader  would  not  be  wearied  with  re- 
plications and  rejoinders,  1  would  request  his  attention  to  a  few  animadver- 
sions on  these  remarks  of  the  Gottingen  professor.  For  though  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  state  his  arguments  as  fully  as  I  could,  consistently  with  the 
limits  of  this  work,  I  must  confess  that  I  do  not  myself  feel  by  any  means 
eonvinoed ;  nor  dare  I  venture  to  affirm,  upon  any  such  presumptive  proofs» 
that  the  book  of  Job  is  altogether  fabulous.  I  think  it  by  no  means  follows, 
that  bccaose  a  book  contains  some  things  which  may  with  propriety  be 
termed  poetical  fictions,  it  has  no  foundation  whatever  in  fact  The  poems 
ef  Homer  contain  more  fictions  of  this  kind  than  any  conunentator  has  pre- 
tended clearly  to  discover  in  the  book  of  Job  :  and  yet  no  sober  critic  ham 
denied,  that  there  ever  waa  such  an  event  as  the  Trojan  war,  on  which 
those  poems  are  founded. 

I  cannot  help  thinking  with  our  author,  that  such  a  man  as  Job  might 
TTCfy  possibly  have  existed,  and  that  the  leading  facts  concerning  his  sud* 
den  depression  and  consequent  misfortunes  might  really  have  happened; 
and  yet  that  the  poet,  in  relating  these  facts,  may  have  added  such  machine- 
ly,  and  other  poetical  ornaments,  as  appeared  necessary  to  enliven  the  story, 
and  illustrate  the  moral.  Though  we  should  not  contend  with  the  learned 
professor  for  the  literal  acceptation  of  the  exordium ;  though  we  should 
even  admit  with  him,  that  it  is  not  probable  any  such  conversation  ever 
took  place  between  the  Almighty  Governor  of  the  universe  and  the  great 
enemy  of  mankind,  as  is  related  in  the  first  chapter ;  yet  it  by  no  means 
fbllows,  that  the  inspired  writer  had  no  grounds  whatever  for  what  he  de- 
icribes  perhaps  poetically.  The  manner  in  whifih  the  Deity  and  the  other 
58 


45r  OF  THE  POEM  OP  JO».  Lmt.  »• 

That  these  points  should  be  accounted  of  a  vety  aiiii- 
biguous  nature»  and  should  cause  much  embarrassment 


eelestiftl  intelligences  are  spoken  of  in  this  poem  appears  necessary,  ^ 
ibe  human  mind  is  called  upon  to  contemplate  their  actions,  and  maj  he 
considered  as  a  kind  of  personification  in  accommodation  to  our  limited 
ikculties,  and  is  common  in  many  other  parts  of  Scripture. 

With  regard  to  the  objection  founded  on  the  round  numbers»  I  think  it 
Tcry  weak  when  applied  to  the  children  of  Job :  and  aa  to  the  cattle,  tJ|e 
cTent  being  recorded  some  time  after  it  took  place,  it  is  hardly  reasonable 
to  expect  tbat  the  numbers  should  be  specified  with  the  utmost  exactness  : 
indeed  nothing  can  be  more  awkward  or  ungraceful,  in  a  poetital  nanv 
tion,  than  to  descend  to  units  i  and  when  the  numbers  are  doubled  at  the 
conclusion,  I  look  upon  it  as  no  more  than  a  periphrasis,  expressing,  that 
the  Lord  gave  to  Job  twice  as  much  as  he  had  before. 

As  to  the  name :  it  is  well  known,  that  all  the  names  of  the  ancient» 
Were  derived  from  some  distinguishing  quality,  and  not  always  given  at 
their  birth  as  with  us.  (See  Etsays  Hittorical  and  Moral,  Ess.  vi.  p.  119.) 
Nay,  the  objection,  if  admitted,  would  strike  at  the  authority  of  a  consider- 
able part  of  holy  writ ;  for  not  only  many  of  the  persons  recorded  there 
take  their  names  from  circumstances  which  occurred  late  in  life,  but,  in 
some  instances,  from  the  very  circumstances  of  their  deaths,  as  «f  M  from 
Mabal  (vanity  or  nothingness)  because  he  left  no  offspring. 

There  appears  at  first  sight  something  more  formidable  in  the  argument 
founded  on  the  inconsistencies  which  he  boasts  of  having  detected ;  never- 
theless, I  can  by  no  means  grant  it  all  the  credit  which  its  author  seems  to 
claim.  Both  the  expressions  of  Elihu,  and  those  of  the  other  friends  aie 
very  general,  «and  I  think  improperly  applied  by  the  professor :  for  the  pas- 
sage referred  to,  ch.  xv.  10.  by  no  means  proves  that  the  friends  of  Job  were 
older  than  he  :  ''with  w,  or  ameng"  uf,"  seems  to  imply  no  more  than  this, 
**  older  persona  than  either  you  or  we«  are  vitktu,  or  of  our  aentiments.** 
Still  more  general  is  the  complaint  of  Job,  ch  xxx.  1.  indeed  so  general, 
that  to  a  fair  examiner  it  is  impossible  it  should  appear  to  have  any  rela» 
tton  at  all  to  the  friends  of  Job,  as  he  is  simply  complaining  of  hb  altered 
state»  and  among  other  evils  mentions  the  loss  of  that  respect  wliich  he  was 
accustomed  to  receive  from  all  ranks  of  people,  insomuch,  that  now  even 
the  youti^t  the  childreny  presume  to  hold  him  in  der^ion.  t*he  other  argn«^ 
ment  is  by  no  means  conclusive,  namely,  that  which  is  founded  on  the  sup- 
posed opprobrium  on  the  birth  of  his  friends,  as  really  I  cannot  conceive 
any  part  of  this  speech  to  have  the  least  reference  to  them ;  or  if  it  have,  it 
is  easy  enough  to  suppose,  that  their  fathers  or  tliemselves  might  havebeett 
raised  to  opulence  from  a  mean  station ;  and  indeed  such  a  supposition  is 
absolutely  necessaiy  to  give  any  point  to  the  sarcasm  of  Job,  admitting 
that  ;t  ought  to  be  understood  In  the  light  our  commentator  seems  to  in^ 
tend.  T. 


T,gfT.  BOi  ag  THE  POEM  OP  JOB;  41» 

and  coanoven^  intbe  learned  world,  it  noAIng eti/tn^^ 
mlinary ;    hut  that  tlic  main  object  and  design  of  the 
poem  ahotikl  ever  have  been  called  in  ({uestion,  may 
justly  excite  our  astoniahmefll.    For  though  many  pas- 
sages be  confessedly  obscure,  though  \ben  be  several 
which  I  fear  no  human  skin  will  ever  be  able  to  unrav- 
el; and  jdKH^h  the  obscurii^  consist  chieiy  in  the  con- 
neetioa  of  the  incidents  and  the  sentiments,  it  by  no 
rooms  necessarily  follo\vs,  that  the  whole  is  involved  in 
impenetrable  daBkncs&    The  case  indeed  is  far  other- 
wise, £Dr  one  and  the  same  lights  though  at  intervals  o- 
vercast,  shines  on  through  the  whole^  and,  like  a  coii- 
duotiiigstar,  unifomily  leads  to  the  same  point*     If  then 
any  person  will  follow  thb  guidance  without  perplexing 
bimadf  with  obscurities  which  he  will  oocasionally  meet, 
I  have  very  bitle  doubt  but  that  he  will  clearly  disceiR 
the  end^  the  subject,  the  connection,   and  arrangement 
^  the  whole  work,    it  will,  perhaps,  be  worth  whUe  to 
put  to  trial  the  efficaey  of  this  maxim  :  let  us,  therefore, 
for  .the  present,  pass  over  Uiose  obscurities  which  might 
iiApcde  our  progress ;  and,  making  the  best  use  of  those 
lights  which  are  ai&irded  by  the  more  obvious  passages, 
pcoceed  with  an  attentive  ey^  through  the  whole  of  the 
work,  and  observe  whether  something  satisfiiotory  is  not 
to  be  discoveiped  rebding  to  the  subject  of  the  narrative, 
and  (the  design  and  iatait  of  the  poem. 

The.  principai  object  held  forth  to  our  oontemplation 
in  this  production  is  the  example  of  a  good  man,  emi- 
nent for  Us  piety,  and  of  approved  integrity,  suddenly 
precipitated  from  the  very  summit  of  prosperity  into  the 
lowest  depths  of  misery  and  ruin :  who  having  been 
first  bereaved  of  his  wealth,  his  possessions,  and  his 
ohildren,  is  aftorwards  afflicted  with  the  most  excruciat- 
ing anguish  of  a  loathsome  disease  which  endrcly  cov- 


4M  or  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lact.  «i. 


ms  his  body.    He  sttstaitu  all  however  with  the  i 
mbmission,  and  the  most  compfete  resignation  to  the 
will  of  Providence  :   ^^  In  all  thk,"  aays  the  historian» 
*^  Job  sinned  not»  nor  charged  God  fooKshiy."^    And 
after  the  second  trial*  '*  In  all  diia  did  not  Job  m  wkh 
^*  his  lips.'*^^  The  author  of  the  history  remarks  upon 
this  circumstance  a  second  time*  in  order  to  excite  the 
«hservation  of  the  reader,  and  to  render  him  more  at» 
tentive  to  what  follows,  which  properly .  constitutes  the 
true  subject  of  the  poem :  namety,  the  conduct  of  Job 
with  respect  to  his  reverence  fcr  die  Almighty,  and  the 
changes  which  accnmulating  misery  might  produce  in 
his  temper  and  behavidur.     Accordingly  we  find  that 
another  still  more  exquisite  trial  of  his  patience  yet 
awaits  him,  and  which  indeed^  as  the  writer  seems  to 
intimate,  he  scarcely  appears  to  have  sostained  with 
equal  firmness,  namely,  the  unjust  suspicions,  the  bitter 
reproaches,  and  the  vic^nt  altercations  of  hb  friends, 
who  had  Tisited.him  on  the  pretence  of  affisrding  conso^ 
lation«    Here  commences  the  plot  or  action  of  the  Po^ 
em ;   for  when,  after  a  kx^  silence  of  ail  parties,  the 
grief  of  Jcb  breaks  forth,  into  passionate  exclamations, 
and  a  vdiement  execration  on  therday  of  his  biitfa ;  ihq 
mii)ds  of  his  fiiends  areisoddenly.exaspemted,  their  in* 
tentipna  ace  changed^  and  their  consdhitinn,  if  indeed 
they  originally  inlmded  any,  is  oonveetediotocontnaae- 
ly  and  .rtpraachts.    The.  first  of  these  ^hree  singular 
Qoaftforters  reproves  hb  impatienoc;  «eatb  in  question 
bis  integrity,,  by  indirectly  insiniaixng  that  God.  does 
not  inflict  siich  punishments  upon  the  nghteous ;  ao4 
fimJly,  admonishes:  hioii  that  the  chastisenient  of  God 
is  not  to  be  despised.    The  next  of  them,  not  less  in^ 
teinperate  in  his  leproofs,  takes  it  for  granted,  that  thQ 


JU«v.  9SU  or  TKK  VDKM  09  KHU  411 

ebidbnen  of  lob  had  oidjr.  recdved  the  reward  dte  to  didr 
o&iijoea ;  and  with  regifttd  to  himsdf,  inttiMtes,  that  if 
he  be.inaooeiit,  and  will  appty  with  proper  humitity  to 
fba  divine  mcfcy,  he  inajr  be  restoted..  The  third  up- 
braida  him  with  afrogtoce,  with  vanitjr^  and  ewn  with 
£daehoodf  because  he  lias  prcsuined  to  defeod  himself 
against  the  oa^ust  apcuaataons  of  his  GOmpainoiis ;  and 
exhorts  hhii  to  a  sounder  mode  of  leaamingand  a  more 
holy  lifeu  ^They  att,  wilh:afiian%st^  though  imfoeot 
aUnaicMi-toi  Jpbi  dtaoonrae  very  copnnify  concerning  the 
divine  judgBnenta  which  are  akwagra  openly  di^layed 
i^punat/the  wieked»  ami  of  (the  certain  destrnctioa  of 
hypocritical  pretandccs  to  viitne  and  «eligion.  In  reply 
to  this;  Job  erauneratea  hia  auftrings^.  and  com^aina 
bitierly  of  the  inhumanity  of  hia  friends,  and  cif  the  se- 
verity  wiiicb  he  has  experienced  from  the  hand  of  God ; 
he  calls  to  witness  both  God  and  man,  that  he  is  unjustw 
ly  oppreaaed ;  be  intsmates^  ^t  he  is  wuk-in  compar- 
iaon.witfa  God,  tlMtlhe  contention' is c<»arqiiem)y  une- 
qual^ and.  that  be  hia  cause.ever  ao  rig^rteoua  he  cannot 
hope  to  pmvaiL  He  espoatwhites  Mcith  God  hinaaeif 
still  more  Yehemently,.  aod>  with  greater  freedom,  affirm* 
iog,  that  he  dors  not^disciimmate  characters,  but  equal* 
ly  afiicts  the  just*  and  the  unjust.  1^  expostuhtions 
of  Job  serve  only  to  irrttate.atitt  inoDC  the  lesentment  of 
hb  pretended  friends ;  .  they  reproach  him  in  aeveren 
terms  with  pride,  iro^efy^-  passion,  andmiaiineaB}  th^ 
repeat  the  same  aig:ttmeirts  reapecting'the  justice  of  God, 
the .  punishment  of  the  wicked,  and  their  celtaiodestruc% 
tion  after  a  dmrt  period  of  ap^ent  fvosperity*  This 
smtiment  diey  confidently  pranotmde  to  be  confirmed 
both  by  their  experience  and  by  that  of  their  fiithers  i 
and  they  maliciously  exaggerate  the  ungrateful-  topic; 
\>Y  ^  almost  splendid  imagery  and  the  most  forcible  Ihq^ 


4«a  OF  THE  FORM  OP  JOB^  Lkct.  ». 

guagc  On  the  pvtof  Job*  the  genexil  «cope  of  ibe 
argumoit  is  much  the  same  as  before,  but  the  cx|»re$- 
aion  is  considerably  heigfaioied;.  it  oMaiata  of  appeab 
to  the  Almighty,. aaaeveratiaiia  of  Us  oMna  innocrnct, 
earnest  expoatuhdona,  complaints  of  the  cruder  of  his 
friends,  flMlanoholy  reflactiopia  oa  the  vanity  of  humlm 
Kfe,  and  upon  his  own  severe  nusfioitaqes,  ending  in 
grief  and  deaperation :  he  afirms^  however^  that  ha 
places  his  uUmate  hopeand  confidence  in  God  ;  and 
the  more  vdieniendy  his  adwraariea  ufge,  that  die 
wicke4  oriy  are  ofafeets  of  the  dUvine  wind»,  «nd  c^ 
aoxioos  to  puniahment,  ao  moch  the  auire  reaohitdy 
does  Job  aascit  their  peqpctual  imponkjr,  praqieriQr, 
and  hfqppinesa  eigcn  to  the  cadi  of  their  cxistmot."  'rhe 
first  of  his  opponents,  EUphaZj  ineenaed  by  this  asser^ 
tion,  deacends  directly  to  qpin  oriminationand  conto- 
ndy  I  he  acouaes  the  moatttpright  of  men  of  the  most 
atrocioua  crimes,  of  injuaiice,  rapine,  and  oppression ; 
inveighs  against  him  as  an  impious  ptetender  to  virtne 
and  religion,  and  with  a  kind  c€  oarcaadc  benevolence 
exhoru  turn  to  pcnitcnoe.  Vehemently  afiqcted  wid» 
this  reproof.  Job,  in  a  still  more  animated  aad  confident 
stmip,  appeals  to  the  tribunal^  All-aeeing.  Joatioei  and 
wishes  it  were  ody  pennitted  him  to  piesid  his  cauae  m 
die  presence  of  God  UmseUl  He  compbina  still  more 
intemperately  of  the  unequal  treaitmcnt  of  Providence ; 
exults  in  hb  own  integrity,  and  t^  more  tenacioudy 
mainfaias  his  former  opi^uon  conoeming  die  impunity 
of  the  wicked.  To  diis  another  of  the  triumvirate,  Bil- 
dad,  replies,  by  a  masterly,  though  concise  dissertadon 
#a  the  mqeafy.and  aandi^  erf  the  Divine  Being,  indi- 

11  Chap.  xxL  and  xxir.  «re  indeed  obscure ;   the  opinionp  howeTer,  of 
Schultcns  on  this  subject  appears  to  me  more  than  probable. 

.  Aiahm^i  JVWe: 


LteT.  n.  OP  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  469 

TbtHy  rebuUng  the  pretumptioh  of  Job;  who  has^ared 
to  quertkm  his  decrees*     In  reply  to  Bitdad^  Job  de* 
m6nstfatcs  himsdf  no  less  expert  at  wielding  the  treapohi 
of  satire  and  riditonle,  than  those  of  reason  and  argument  i 
and  reverlang  to  a  more  serious  tone,  he  displays  the  in- 
fimle  power  and  wisdom  of  God  more  copiously,  and 
more  poetieatt)r  than  the  foniiei-  speaker.    The  Hwd  trf^ 
file  fiends  iMkiiig  no  retorA,  and  the  oAers  remaining^ 
sHent,  Jdb  at  kngth  opens  the  tme  sentiments  of  his 
htart  cofloemhig  the  £ite  of  the  wicked ;  he  allows  that 
their  prosperi^  is  unstaUe,  and  that  they  and  thfcir  dt* 
scendants  shall  at  last  experienee  on  a  sudden,  that  Godf 
b  the  avenger  of  iniquity.    In  all  tiiis,  howerer,  he  coni> 
tends  that  the  divine  counsels  do  not  admit  of  humair 
investigation ;  but  that  the  chief  wisdom  of  man  consist 
in  the  feat  of  God.    He  beautifully  descants  upon  lus 
fortner  prosperity ;  and  exhibits  a  striking  conthist  ht^* 
tween  it  and  his  present  affliction   and  debasement* 
Lastly,  in  answer  to  tinii  crimination  of  Eliphaz  and  tiie 
implications  of  tiie  others,  he  relates  the  principal  trans«* 
actiCMis  of  his  past  life ;   he  asserts  his  integri^  as  dis^ 
phyed  in  dl  the  duties  of  life,  and  in  the  siglit  of  God 
and  man ;  and  agsun  appeals  to  the  justice  and  omnis* 
eience  of  God  in  attestation  of  his  veracity. 

If  these  circumstances  be  fiuriy  cdlected  from  die 
genoal  tenour  and  series  of  the  work,  as  &r  as  we  are 
aUe  to  trace  them  through  the  |riainer  and  more  con- 
spicuous passages,  it  will  be  no  very  difficult  task  to  ex-^ 
f^ab  and  define  thti^bject  of  tiiis  part  of  the  poem^* 
whidi  contains  the  dispute  between  Job  and  hisfriendis« 
The  argument  seems  chiefly  to  relate  to  die  piety  and 
integrity  of  Job,  and  turns  upon  this  point,  whetiier  he» 
who  by  the  divine  providence  and  visitation  is  so  severe» 
ly  punished  and  afflicted,  ought  to  be  accounted  pious 


tf4  or  THE  POEIIf  Of  JOl;*  LiitT.  at« 

and  ifmocenf.  This  leads  into  a  more  extenshre  fidd 
of  controversy,  into  a  dispute  indeed,  which  less  admits 
of  any  definition  or  limit,  concerning  the  nature  of  the 
^vine  counsels,  in  the  dispensations  of  happiness  and» 
misery  in  this  life.  The  antagonists  of  Job  m  this'dis* 
pute  observing  him  exposed  to  sudi  seveve  visilatioiisi 
concaving  that  this  affliction  has  not  fatten  upon  faimi 
mimeiitedly,  accuse  him  of  hjrpocrisy,  and  fidseiy  asctifaar 
to  him  die  guik  of  some  atrocious  bot  concealed  oflSnioe.- 
fcb,  on  the  contrary;  consdous  of  no  crime,  and  wound» 
ed  by  thdr  unjust  suspicions,  defends  lus  own  imioeettce 
before  God  with  rather  more  confidence  and  ardour  than 
b  commendable  i  and  so  strenuously  contends  for  his 
own  integrity,  that  he  seems  virtually  to  charge  God- 
himself  with  some  degree  of  injusdce. 

This  state  of  die  controversy  b  clearly  exphined  by 
what  follows :  for  when  the  three  friends  have  ceased  to 
dispute  with  Job»  **  because  he  seemeth  just  in  his  own 
eyes,""  that  b,  because  he  hai  uniformly  contended, 
that  there  was  no  wickedness  in  himself  which  ooqUL 
call  down  the  heavy  vengeance  of  God ;  Elihu  comes 
forward  jusdy  ofiended  with  both  parties ;  with  Job,  be- 
cause ^*  he  justified  himsdf  in  preference  to  God,'*"  that 
b,  because  he  defended  so  vehemendy  tlie  justice  of  iib 
own  cause,  that  he  seemed  in  some  measure  to  arra^n 
die  justice  of  God  ;  against  the  three  friends,  becausti 
<*  though  they  were  unable  to  answer  Job,  they  ceased 
not  to  condemn  htm  :"^^  that  is,  they  concluded  in  their 
own  minds,  that  Job  was  impious  and  wicked,  wUle, 
nevertheless,  they  had  nothing  specific  to  object  against 
his  assertions  of  bis  own  innocence,  or  upon  which  tliey 
might  safely  ground  their  accusation. 

I»  Chap,  xxxii.  1.  13  Chap,  Mxii.  8.    Compare  xxxv.  2.  xl.  8. 

M  Chap.  zxxiiL  3. 


UU^at.  «  TdB  fOKN  OF  IO&  4M 

The  tumdtiet  rfEttko  eridwrty  coiwspowii  withtfn$ 
m^^tl^obtmwwsf:  heprofeii8eft,itteiiaslighl:pre& 
kmty  mention  of  MmaeU;  to  reascii  wilh  Job»  iinbuwed 
ttjatitlf  brf  if¥0Qr  or  roeeotOMM»  Heitaeiifiimiieproves 
fob  ftom  bto  o«m  mooth,  booMse  he  ktA  «Mvibulod  too 
fiiodh  wMnMif  $  bec^MseheaiolaffiimedhiiMelf  tobo 
iiibgedier  free  Imn  j^ttMt  and  depiwiQr ;  beoaiiie>  be 
lied  ixresitmed  io  coMeod  wMi  God;  mdihad  not  ao«iu 
pkdto  iitsimef»^  tfaiitlie  Dei^r  m^  He 

Mserts,  thee  it  ie  nel  necceeeiy  Ibr  God  toeKpbia  and 
d^elophisoaiiiieelB'lo  men;  dMehenevorthetew  inkee 
many  occaaione  of  adnionbbiog^theni»  not  only  by  m^ 
Inm  and  neveblie»,  bot  «van  by  the  vmMon»  oThia 
providenee^  by  aendmg  eataeaitfea  )uid  dieeaeea  upon 
^em,  to  represa  their  afrogaiu:e  and  rafiiim  thdr  obdut^ 
naf.    fie  next  rebukes  Job,  beoauee  fae  hadfnonoifne. 
ed  Mmself  uprigltt,  and  affirmed  that  God  M  Mlod  kw 
jMiicaily,  tf  tiot  onjueriy  lowaida  hnn,.  whk;h  im  paovea 
to  be  tio  less  improper  thm  indecent.^  InAeifaiirdpiBoe^ 
4tfeofagcto1a4<i  Jefb^  ihit  ihoifr  die  niMfies  ^  the  goedC 
mnAiSnt  |m)6periq^'6ttheivieked,  he  iMa&lse^  and  peit. 
verily  eondoded,  liuit  there  «nsnoadram^ge  lol)&da* 
«irsd  ih)m  the  pmedee  of  fkine.    Ontheoonti^  he 
aftrms,  that  ^hen  die  «flietkAiadF  the  jiMconti        it 
h  beeaose  ffacy^donot^pkiee  a  pvoper  oenidenoeioGod» 
adc  relief  at  his  hands,  patientl^^icpeoi  it,  nor  demean 
«h^tnaelvesbefisrelMawiih  beeofMng^homilii^andaiib^ 
"tfftission.    This  observation  alane,  lie  adds  reiy  proper* 
1y,  is  at  once  a'  sufficient  reproof  of  die  contiimaoy  of 
Job,  and  afaH  refutation  <tf  the  iiajnat  auapicions  of  his 
friends."    Lastly,  he  explains  the  purposes  of  the  Dei^ 
in  chastening  men,  which  are  in  genenU  to  prove  and 
to  amend  them,  to  repress  their  arrogance,  to  afford 

V  Chap.  xxzr.  4. 

59 


4%^  OP  TUB  PO&M  OF  lOK  Lscvwii:. 

lum  te.'i)p|K»timilgr.of  e&etopli^tt^  uponihe 

Ql»t}iii0te  and  rii)cjliau$t<.wd  oC  Aumw^  &vour  to  ihr 
bumble  and  dxdieoU  ife-auppoacs  Ijjod.to  have  acted 
flo  thai  manner  iowAidaMx;  ontbMMOoiiiitbeezborta 
Ittai'to^hiMahM  UvmeU  MBtt;Jiia  rigbMoua  Judfie,  to 
Itfwabe  of  ap^eapoy  nlwrtaiifg  or  o^otmmcwoA^  in  hb 
aight,  i8Dd  of  relapBUig  i^lM.  a .  lepietilkm  <tf  ta|s  ailu  Ha 
intraata  him^froo»  Uii&cOQieppUttfNMftlbe  divine  po««r 
and  QNiieaty,  to-  endaavov,  to  iriMin  a  peepet  levereiMae 
fior  the.Abnighfgr.  .  To  theae  &aq»r«t|)t  iwewniHed  and 
jQ&Bii  atjmeadtf  adaMntkNis  of  SUImu  lob  jBudoaa  no  ra« 
4UBn. 

\1U»  onMiMiof  <M  hknwdC  «^ 
jwiiiBb.diidaitiiiig./to  dosoend  toaiqf  partieular  jexpUca» 
ikmof  bia  diwtne  cbtinacla,  but  inataocani^  aome  of  tbe 
atopendo^A  effeata  of  bb  ioftnitr  povmr,  be  inutta  upon 
4hJe  aaaar  t^ica*  iffauib  Elihu  had  befwe  lovdiDd  upoiw 
Jn  tbq  fiiBi  pbnc,.  bavi«g  raptoved  tba  taamitj  of  lob^ 
be  Convicta  bimioC  ignoiadar,  ia  being  uoabki  to  «oai» 
j^iefeirnd  «be  wo^.of  hi*  oaealian»' wbMi.  i«ne  obaioiia 
Id  every  eye;  tbe. kiattiie  etui  ataMtmepf  diofanb^ibe 
».  the  %bi^  «odibeaiMafial^bifg^  Uotheada- 
monataatea  hid  weakncaa»  by  cbaUehging  Vm  to  prove 
bi^  own  poiWf  hf  cnaulatiiy;  wyafeete^Mrtion  of  tbe 
diyiae  energy»  andrthan  i?fercngbiAe*toone>or  tsmof 
Abe  brute  Gra|iiofi«  witb  -wbi^  he  k  unable^ to  cootand 
-~how  much  leaa  iherefbre.  wich  the  uaawpoteni  CrGabar 
and  Lord  irfaU  ihings,  wbo  iaior.ean  be  aceountabk.  to 
BO  being  vAi9U»tr  f^  .  Qn  thia^  Job  bmohlb^  aobn^ta  t» 
tbe  will  of  Providenoe^  eakoQwledgti^  bia  oiimipocaaoe 
and  jjcnbccility»  and  ''  repents  iadust  aiid.a9bea4'* 
.  On  a  due,  aoMideiatiQiv  of  all  these  cm:uinataac«»  tbe 
principai  objeot  of  Uie  poem  seams  to  he  thia  third  and 

1*  See  Clwp.  xlL  2.  S. 


I^w^m  OF  the:  KEBC  «C  JOfB.  MY 

bst  «rial  tf  JMi^fird«i  Ike  ii^tioe  and  ttftkindsess  ^f 
-Iris  accusing  fMtmtia.  Tihe  conaequoioe  of  which  isfin 
*die  firet  plaee,  tbcFWgter,  indilpii^im,  and;  coQtuimc|r 
*^fidb,  md  atetiKifds  Mb  composure»'  subolufMftii:^ 
'fsenkencc.  >Tfae  design  of ,  the»  pbem-isi^  tlierefort),  to 
ofeaeh  wM^  dtot  haiHi%  adue4re6ptet  to  the  oomifxion, 
TiiiBrmkf,  ahd  ignorance  of  hiinuui  tuftui^^  ^s  wett^as^to 
*Ae  ittif  it&srkMoini  and^majfesty  iof-God^  they  are  id  re- 
4«Bt  attcQBfiricaoe  mdieirQmi  Mrength^.tn  itftir.own 
iighMHisiiess»  aridtoppsservc' ouattoocaaions  )alk:uIl^ 
tayawf  igig  yad'  m— uttcdifaMb»  mdHM^i^^mk  vitfi^bwom^ 
•iBg'Teverenca^'M  -hts  doerees» 

t.  :I  would'wish  i^*  isHDfweyfr,  to  hd*  carafiriiy'  fabMrvbd^ 
that  the  aufaject  of  the  dispute  between  Job  and  .hfe 
friends  differs  from  the  subject  of  the  poem  in  general : 
that  the  end  of  die  poetical  part  is  different  from  the  de- 
sign of  the  narrative  at  large.  For  although  the  design 
and  subject  of  the  poem  be  cxacdy  as  1  have  defined 
«them,  it  may  nevertheleas  be  granted,  that  the  whole 
history,  taken  together,  contains  an  eXMnple  of  patience, 
together  with  its  reward.  This  point  not  having  been 
treated  with  su&ient  distinctness  by  ttW  learned,  I  can- 
not he^  e^wmiDg  it  the  principal  cause  of  die  perplex- 
ity in  winch  the  stsbjeet  Im  been  involved. 

I  am  not  ignoiwit,that  to  those  who  enter  upon  tMs 
ioquiiy,  aomequeatiom  will  ocoiir,  which  appear  to  re- 
^ttireaaepaitie  examination;  sinoe many  of  them,  how- 
^aver,  are  chiefly  ooonectad  with  those  passages  M^iieh 
are  acknowledged  to  be  obscure,  which  have  not  yet 
been  dearly  ezplainedf  and  which,  whatever  they  may 
hereafter  be  fowad  to  iaapopt,  are  not  likely  to  affisct  tk^ 
truth  of  our  condusion,  I  have  thought  proper  to  omit 
them.  Nor  will  I  allow,  that  because  many  things  yet 
iremain  amlnguous  and  perplexed^  we  are  tjierefore  to 


4M  OF  TB9EL  POEM  OR  JOB*  Lkq^  » 

doubt  of  these  which  are  more  tpm  and  evidQat    ki 
vegard  to  ceftain  «lore  importaBt  doctaiocs,  labich  some 
persons  of  distinguished  learning  have  thought  to  be  ea» 
tabli^d  bgr  this  extraordinarjr  momnmuit^  aMkot 
wisdonH'  aa  they  ehhpr  depend  in  a  gfcat  degiee  on  the 
obscure  passages  above-mentiotieil»  br  «to  oet  aeen  to 
contribute  iadie  least  to  the  main  deugo  of  the  poem»  nor 
to  be  consistent  with  the  object  of  it,  which  I  just  mm 
pointed  out,  I  thought  it  still  «lore  tnnteeaaary  to  wb^ 
trodoce  them  in  this  diaquisitiqn.  .  What  I  have  ad* 
tanced,  I  coneefiml  AiHf  adequate  to^  the  purpMe  af 
this  undertaking,  and  a  sufficieot  lntrpdi9Ction  to  a  cri!»* 
^>exMiim|tioii  of  tW  «cn^oaitim  and  faMUtiefr  of  the 


.r ! 


'.'       1       .  '.  It    I       'J' 


'^i      .*••''*'    ."  :.  i     ui.        f:    .•         i  .  #,  -III/. 


I»     • 


LECTURE  XXXIII. 


THE  POEM  OF  JOB  NOT  A  PERFECT  DRAMA. 

4^      .  . 


tii  hQ  f  f  ^e  0ap\B  kM  w'^^  the  Greek  Tr«ge4y :  tbfs  opiiMon  ^zamined^ 
A  plod  or  fable. essential  to  a  re^lar  drama ;  its  defiiutbn  and  essential 
'  quaMtiet  toooati&ag  ib  Arialeftle*--Braifii«itratad,  that  the  poeift  of  Job 
4#M90tov»tiuil«i|tp|Btv  iiA.foiai  «nddofii^  moie fi^ly  txpiained-n 
QongparQd.with  the  Oedipus  Ty?aomi4  of  $ophocleSi  with  the  Oedlpiui 
Coloiieas  ;*  and'stiewn  to  differ  entirely  Aom  both  in  form  and  maimer-» 
H  b  mff^fkhAeA  m  «est  bctiitiAil  aad  peHhet  peri^anoe  iii  iu  kind : 
it  ^fijfnmbkai  T^nr  vim  ^  fiynn  tf  HF^ftAt  4f»nai  «ndg  £»r  r^riUritjP 
in  form  and  arran^ment,  justly  claims  the  first  place  amon^  the  poet- 
ical compositions  of  the  Hebrews, 
•  *   c 

fr  HEH  I  andertook  the'  present  invefltigation,  my 
principal  object  ivais  to  enable  us  to  form  some  definite 
opinion  concerning  the  poem  of  Job,  and  to  assign  it 
its  proper  place  among  the  compositions  of  the  Hebrew 
poets»  This  wiU  posi^ibly  appear  to  some  a  superflu% 
oas  and  idle  undertaking,  as  the  point  seems  long  since 
to  have  been  finally  determined,  the  fnajority  of  the 
critics  having  decidedly  adjudged  it  to  belong  to  the  dra<< 
Htiatic  class.  Since,  however,  the  term  dramatic,  as  I 
formerly  had  reason  to  remark,  is  in  itself  extremely 
aEmblguous,  the  present  disquisition  will  not  be  confined 
within  the  limits  of  a  single  question ;  for  the  first  ob*^ 
ject  of  inquiry  will  necessarily  be,  wW  idea  is  affixed 
to  the  appellation  by  those  critics  who  term  the  book  of 
lob  a  dramatic  poem :  and  after  we  have  determined 
this  point  (if  it  be  possible  to  determine  it,  for  they  da 
not  seem  wiDtiig  to  be  explicit)  we  may  then  with  safe^ 


470  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lkgt.  33. 

ty  proceed  to  enquire  whether,  pursuant  to  that  idea» 
the  piece  be  justly  entitled  to  this  aRieUation. 

A  poem  is  called  dramatic,  either  in  oonseyicpoe  of 
its  form,  the  form  I  mean  of  a  perfect  dialogue,  which 
is  sustained  entirely  by  the  charaptcra  or  paQBOBsgea 
without  the  imcrvention  of.die  poes;  and  ^thia  was  the 
definition  ^opted  by  the  ancient  critics :  or  dse,  ao» 
cording  to  the  more  modem  acceptation  6f  the  word, 
in  consequence  of  a  plotor  fiibk  being  igpucssntud  jn 
(t.  If  those  who  account  the  book  of  Job  dramatic  ad* 
here  to  the  former  definition,  I  have  little  inclination  lo 
litigate  the  point;  and  indeed  the  obfcct  of  the  coniro» 
vcrsy  would  scarcely  be  worth  the  labour.  Though  a 
critic,  if  disposed  to  be  scrupulously  CMCt,  mig^  insist 
that  the  work,  upon  the  whole,  is  by  no  means  a  perfect 
dialogue,  but  consbts  of  a  mixture  of  the  narrative  and 
colloquial  style:  for  the  historical  part,  which  is  all  com* 
po9ed  in  the  person  of  tbe^.  writer  himae^',.  is  ccrtai<4|' 
to  be  accounted  a  part  of  the  ivork  itself,  conaiflered  afi 
a  whole.  Since,  however,  on  the  other,  hand,  the  his* 
tprical  or  narrative  part  is  all  evidently.  wiitte{i.in  prosei 
apd  seems  to  me  to  be  substituted  morpjly  in  ^e  place 
of  an  argument  or  comment,  for  the  puipose  of  ext 
plaining  th^  rest,  and  certainly  does  not  con^itute  any 
part  of  the  poem;  since,  moreover,  those  short  aen« 
.  ^nces»  which  .serve  to  iotroduce  the  different  speeches^ 
contain  yery  little  vpxxp  than  the  ^lames,  I  am  willipg  to 
fliow,  that  the  structure  or  form  c^ this  poem  is. on  the 
whole  dramatic,  J3ut  this^cgofx^oh  wiUf  I  fear» 
scarcely  ^tis^  the  critics  in  qu^^tion  \.  for  they  q^eak 
pf  the  regular  pcdcr  .and  conduct  of  the  piece,  and  of 
the  dramatic  catastrophe ;  they  assert,  that  the  fnterpo» 
^itioii  of  the  Deity  is  a  necessary  part  of  the  piachinery. 
pf  the  fable ;   the^  even  enumerate  the  a^^-  and  ^(^nc;;^^ 


Lbm.  SS.  op  the  poem  of  job.  471 

and  use  the  very  stone  language  in  all'nia|iec^  aa  If 
they.spicriceofaGnidc  tragedy;  imkHBudi»  that  wheA 
tbqr  ttmi  file  ik)em  of  Job  druMtiCf^hey  ston  to 
nCthaispMiea of dnma. which  was  cultivated. and  im- 
faoved  in  the  theatce  of  Athena.  It  appeara  dmefore  a 
fiMT  ehjeot  erf*  inquiry;  vhetfaer  the  poem  of  Job  be  pos- 
aeaaod  of  the  pccu&r  propertiea  of .  die  Greek  drama^ 
and  may  whh  reason  and  justice  be  claaaed  with  the 
theatriaal  produetkms  of  that  people. 

We  have  dready  i^;reed»  that  the  greater  and  moie 
perfect  drama  ia  pecufiarly  disdoguiahed  from  the  less^ 
and  more  common  species,  ihaamuoh  as  it  reuina  not 
aidy  the  dramMic  form,  or  the  perfect  dialogue,  but  dad 
«EMbita  some  entire  action,  &ble,  or  plot.  And  this  is 
perfeetly  i^peeable  to  the  definition  of  Aristotle ;  for  al- 
though he  points  out  mai^.  parts  or  oonstituenta  in  th^ 
composition  of  a  tragedy,  he  assigns  the  first  place  to  the 
plot  or  fiMe.'  This  he  says  is  the.  beginning,  this  the 
end,  thb  is  the  most  important  part, .  the  very  soul  of  a 
tragedy,  without  which  it  is  utterly  undeserving  of  the 
iiame»  and  indeed  cannot  properly  be  said  to  exist  A 
plot  or  fiiUe  is  the  representation  of  an  action  or  even^ 
or  of  a  series  of  events  or  incidents  tending  all  to  one 
point,  which  are  detailed  wiUi  a  view  to  a  particular  ob-  ' 
ject  or  conclusion.  A  tragedy,  says  the  same  author, 
is  not  a  representation  of  men,  but  of  actions,  a  picture 
of  fife,  of  prosperity  and  adversity:  &  other  words,  the 
business  c^  the  poem  is  not  merely  to  exhibit  manners 
only,  nor  does  the  most  perfect  representation  of  man- 
ners constitute  a  tragedy ;  for  in  reality  %  tragedy  may 
exist  with  littie  or  no  display  of  manners  or  character  ; 

I  Bot  CkMJun^  Prtjaee  9ur  J^h.    Habb^  Not  ad  Ps.  «f 3. 40.    CAUMTa 
Mur9dvct.  in  Idirt  BiMie—,  ptft  iL  pb  76, 
•  Amun.  Poet.  cap.  tL 


in  OP  THE  :pobh  op  jo&         utt^.u. 

Its  bunncK  » to  exhibit  fife  mdMHion,  orsottleftigiitar 
tmte  of  aetim»  Md  evenift,  on  whioh  depetids  the  feliei- 
Qr  or  infdidQr  of  the  pcnoos  conoemed«  Tor  hutMHk 
iMppinest  or  prat]ierity  consMis  in  «otioii  $  andattiooh 
BOt  a  quaKtf^  but  is  the  end  of  ituin.  Aeoondiag  toour 
«umners  «te  are  denominaied  good  or  bad,  bnt  inr  ait 
happf  ot*  nnbappy ,  pnaaperons  »r  unaaODeasftil,  aoeort^ 
«ngtbacfionaorewnta.  Poeta  tiiercfors  d*  not  Antn  a 
plot  or  action  merely  for  the  adbe  of  imttattag  maaneia 
«  bhttwter^  bpt  tnaMsera  and  eharacter  are  added  to 
thefdot,  and  for  the  sake  of  it  are  chidBf  aonded  ttk 
Thua  £m-  he  haa  aoeurateljr  drawn  the  line  betvreen  the 
Kpreattotation  of  action  and  manners»  He  adds,  more- 
over»  dial  unity  is  caaential  to  a  rrgidnr  {dot  or  acdon, 
and  tfiat  it  oiuA  be  coaapteife  in  itaelA  and  of  a  proper 
Icagih.'  But  to  coaopnriMand  more  perfec%  the  natnit 
ofa  plot  or  fiiUe,  it  must  be  observed,  that  diere  are  two 
f»Hndpal  species :  far  they  are  either  complex  or  «im. 
|>le  ;*  the  ibrmer  contmiiB  aoaae  unexpected  vicissiiode 
nf  fortnne,  snch  as  the  recognidon  of  a  pertfm  at  irat 
nnknown^  the  recovery  of  a  lost  child,  or  a  sodden 
ohaage  an  the  ntuation  of  the  parties,  or  perlurps  bOfbs 

*  Abimt.  Ptt,  ch.  ¥ik    It  U  evidest  tiut  tfic  human  nMbd  €«i  dwell  «n 

one  object  only  at  a  time,  and  whenever  it  takes  more  into  its  riew,  it  m 
hy  tombination,  as  foHnih^  one  object  out  of  tnan^,  or  as  many  objects  coA* 
triimtif^  to  inr«etioo.  Piiutora  obutre  lhl«  rule  ao  «Inalely»  HuSt  thit 
will  not  suffer  attentim  to  be  dhdded  by  tnro  equal  groupeiy  by  tw^  prin- 
cipal figures,  two  equal  lights  or  colours,  or  even  two  equal  folds  of  drape- 
ry. I  flftttermjfvelfiit  the  abdretnmaUtkAit  have  «otobKnttedtbe  mean* 
ing  of  Ariatotle^  ao  aa  to  Mng  upon  Ite  tfae  «htrfe  of  MfSuiileacy. 
When  he  speaks  of  unit}'  being  essential  to  a  dramatic  fable  or  action,  be 
means  it,  1  appretiend,  as  speaking  of  a  whole.  When,  therefore,  he  speaks 
•fterwuds  of  plots  or  ftMct  m  Bimpkt  or  oomples,  by  the  Utttf  term  Ite 
must  mean  one  plot  or  siory,  which  consists  of  several  incidents  or  Ticissi* 
tttdcs  I  and  by  the  former  a  plot  founder)  upon  one  simple  and  uninter- 
rupted action,  and  so  our  author  btdeed  tzpUins  bun.    T. 

<  AmiaT.  Poet  chi4>.  z. 


Uer.  33.  OP  THE  POEM  01^  JOB.  4ti 

t|ie  latter  contains  nothing  of  the  kind,  but  pr6ceeds  til 
ojie  uniform  and  equal  tenoun     In  every  plot  or  fablcv 
however^  be  it  ever  so  simple,  and  though  it  contain 
nothing  <tf  the  wonderful  or  unexpected,  there  is  always 
1^  perptexity  or  embarrassment,  as  also  a  regular  solution 
or  cttastrophes'  the  latter  must  proceed  from  theform^ 
CTf  and  indeed  must  depend  upon  it ;    which  cannot  be 
the  case,  unless  there  be  a  certain  order  or  connection 
in  the  incidents  and  events  which  inclines  them  towards 
the  same  end,  and  combines  them  all  in  one  terminatioir» 
On  fairly  considering  these  circumstances,  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  affirming,  that  the  poem  of  Job  contains  no 
plot  or  action  whatever,  not  even  of  the  most  simple 
kind ;  it  uniformly,  exhibits  one  constant  state  ofthingfi' 
not  the  smallest  change  of  fortune  taking  place  from  the 
b^^ning  to  the  end ;   and  it  contains  merely  a  repre^ 
sentation  of  those  manners,  passions,  and  sentiments,; 
which  might  actually  be  expected  in  such  a  situation; 
Job  is  represented  as  reduced  from  (he  summit  of  hdi) 
man  prosperity,  to  a  condition  the  most  miserable  aMl 
aAicted :  and  the  sentiments  of  both  Job  and  hisfribnds 
are  exactly  such  as  the  occasion  ^&:tates.     For  here  a 
new  temptation  falls  upon  him,  by  which  the  constanjoy 
of  Job  is  put  to  the  severest  trial ;  and  this  circumstance 
it  is  that  constitutes  the  principal  subject  of  the  poehi. 
lob  had,  we  find,  endured  the  most  gricvtnis  calamities, 
the  loss  of  his  wealth,  the  deprivation  of  his  children, 
and  the  miserable  union  of  poverty  and  disease,  with  so 
much  fortitude  and  with  so  just  a  confidence  in  his  own 
integrity,  that  nothing  could  be  extorted  from  him  iathe 
IttM  inconsisleat  witli  the  strictest  reverence  for  the  Di- 
vine Being  ;   he  is  now  put  to  the  proof,  whether,  after 
enduring  all  this  with  firmness  and  resignation,  he  can 

^  Ibid.  clup.  xviii. 

60 


474  OF  THE  POEM  OF  lOB.  Lbct.  3f. 

with  equal  patience  endure  to  have  kis  iitnocenoe  and 
virtue  (in  which  perhaps  he  had  placed  too  much  ccmfi* 
denoe)  indirectly  questioned,  and  even  in  plain  terma 
arraigned.  Job,  now  sinking  under  the  weight  of  hb 
miaery,  latnenu  his  eom£ikin  with  more  vehemence  than 
before.  Hb  friends  reprove  his  impatience,  and  dro{^ 
scMnetfark  insinuations  to  the  apparent  disparagement  of 
his  virtue  and  integrity,  by  entering  into  very  copious  de* 
olamations  concerning  the  justice  of  God  in  proportioo* 
ing  his  visitations  to  the  crimes  of  men.  lob  is  still  more 
utolently  agitated  ;  and  his  friends  accuse  him  with  leas 
ri^aerve.  He  appeals  to  God,  and  ezpostulaies  with 
adme  degree  of  freedom^  They  urge  and  press  him  in 
t}K  very  heat  of  Ins  passion ;  and,  by  sttU  m<He  malig* 
nsnt  accusations,  escite  his  indignation  and  his  cmifi- 
deuce,  which  were  already  too  vehement.  £lUm  inters 
poses  as  an  arbiter  of  the  controversy  ;  he  reproves  die 
severe  spirh  of  the  friends,  as  welt  as  the  ju^somption 
<rflk>b,  who  trusted  too  much  in  his  own  r^^hieouaneas* 
Jaib  receives  hts  admonkions  with  mildnesa  and  temper^ 
aftd  being  rendered  more  sedate  by  Us  expostulatioii, 
makes  no  reply,  though  the  other  appeara  frequently  t6 
expect  it.  When  the  Almighty,  however,  condesoends 
to  set  before  him  his  rashness,  frailty,  and  ignorance,  ha 
submits  in  perfect  humility,  and  with  sinetre  repentance» 
Here  die  temptation  ot  Job  concludes,  in  the  course  of 
which  there  was  great  reason  to  apprehend  he  would  be 
lotaDy  vanquished :  at  the  same  time  the  poem  necesaa* 
rily  terminates,  the  state  of  things  still  remaining  with- 
out  any  change  or  vicissitude  whatever.  The  poem  in- 
deed  contains  a  great  variety  of  aemi«ient,  excellent 
representations  of  manners  and  character,  remarkaUe 
eiibrts  of  {xission,  much  important  controversy  ;  but  nfy 
change  of  fortune,  no  novelty  of  incideiit,  no  plot|^  no 
action. 


I^r.  SS.  OF  THE  POBM  OF  JOB.  47« 

If  indeed  we  rigktly  considert  we  shall,  I  dare  be^* 
Ikve,  find  that  the  very  nalure  oi  the  aubject  excludan 
even  the  possibiUty  of  a  plot  or  action.  From  that  atat» 
of  settled  and  unvarying  tnisery  in  which  Job  is  involv- 
ed, arises  the  doubt  of  bis  integrity^  and  those  insinuat 
tions  and  criminations  which  serve  to  exasperate  binii 
and  by  which  he  is  stimulated  to  expostulate  with  God^ 
and  to  glory  in  his  own  righteousness.  It  was  proper» 
therefiore,  that  by  a  continuance  of  the  same  state  and 
^ndition,  he  should  be  recalled  to  an  humble  spirit, 
and  to  a  proper  reverence  for  the  Almighty  Providence. 
f*or  it  would  have  been  altc^ther  contrary  to  what  i$ 
called  poetical  justice,  if  he  had  been  re/stored  to  prosr 
perity  previous  to  his  submission  and  penitience.  The 
repentance  of  Job,  however,  we  find  concludes  the  poem» 
Nor  was  it  at  all  necessary,  that  the  question  concerning 
die  divine  justice  should  be  reaolved  in  the  body  of  the 
work,  either  by  tbe  fortunate  issue  of  ihe  affitirs  of  Job, 
or  eiran  by  the  explication  of  tbe  divine  imcntions  :  this, 
in  fact,  was  not  the  primary  object,  nor  does  it  at  all  con* 
stitute  the  subject  of  the  poem ;  but  is  subservient,  or 
in  a  manner  an  appendage  to  iL  The  disputation  which 
takes  place  upon  this  topic,  is  no  more  than  an  instru- 
ment of  temptation,  and  is  introduced  in  order  to  ex- 
plain the  inmost  sentiments  of  Job,  and  to  lay  open  the 
latent  pride  that  existed  in  his  souL  The  Almightyj 
Iherefore,  friien  he  addresses  Job,  pays  little  regard  to 
this  point ;  nor  indeed  was  it  necessar}^  for  neither  the 
nature  nor  the  object  of  the  poem  required  a  defence  of 
the  Divine  Providence,  but  merely  a  reprehension  oi 
the  over-confidence  of  Job. 

If  indeed  we  suppose  any  change  to  have  taken  place 
in  the  state  of  affiiirs,  the  nature  and  subject  of  the  poem 
will  also  be  changed.    If  we  connect  with  the  poetical 


4r6  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lkct.  »3.. 

part  ekher  the  former  or  the  latter  part  of  die  hi&torjr,  or 
both,  the  subject  wUl  then  be  the  display  of  a  perfect 
example  of  patience  in  enduring  the  severest  outwaid 
calamities,  and  at  length  receiving  an  aaople  reward  at 
the  hands  of  the  Almighty :  from  this,  however,  the 
universal  tenour  of  the  poem  will  be  found  greatly  to 
differ.  It  will  be  found  to  exhibit  rather  the  impatience 
of  Job  in  bearing  the  reproaches  and  abuse  of  fab  pretend- 
ed friends  ;  and  this  appears  to  lead  to  the  true  object  of 
the  poem  ;  for  Job  is  irritated,  he  indulges  his  pasnon, 
he  speaks  too  confidently  of  his  own  righteousness,  and 
in  too  irreverend  a  style  concerning  the  justice  of  God ; 
in  the  end  he  is  converted  by  the  admouitions  of  EHhu^ 
and  the  reproofs  of  his  omnipotent  Creator.  The  true 
object  of  the  poem  appears  therefore  to  be,  to  demon* 
strate  the  necessity  of  hunulity,  of  trust  in  God,  and  of  ^ 
the  profoundest  reverence  for  the  divine  decrees,  eve« 
in  the  holiest  and  most  exalted  characters. 

Should  it  be  objeceed,  that  I  have  cmitended  with  a 
scrupulous  perverseness  cenoeming  the  meaning  of  a 
word ;  and  should  it  a£ter  all  be  afirmedt  that  this  very 
temptation  of  Job,  this  dispute  itself  possesses  in  some 
degree  the  form  or  appearance  of  an  action :  1  am  con» 
lent  to  submit  the  trial  to  another  issue,  and  to  be  judg^» 
ed  by  a  h\f  investigation  of  the  practice  of  the  Greek 
poets  upon  similar  occasions.  There  is  no  necessity  to 
remind  this  assepibly,  with  how  much  art  and  design 
the  fable  or  plot  of  the  Oedipus  Tyrannus  of  Sophpcles 
appears  to  have  been- constructed ;  w^h  what  powers  of 
imagination  a^id  }u4gemcnt  the  process  q£  the  dmma  is 
conducted ;  and  in  what  manner,  by  a  regular  succes- 
sion of  events,  arising  naturally  from  each  other,  the 
horrid  secret  is  developed,  which  as  soon  as  disclosed 
precipitates  the  hero  of  the  tragedy  from  the  sumtuit  of 


Lbct.  S3.  OF  THE  POEM  OF  lOB.  477 

human  happiness  into  the  lowest  depths  of  miseiy  and 
ruin.  Let  us  only  suppose  Sophocles  to  have  treated 
Ae  same  subject  in  a  different  manner,  and  to  have  form* 
ed  a  poem  on  that  part  of  the  story  alone  which  is  com- 
prized  in  the  last  act  Here  Oedipus  would  be  indeed 
exhibited  as  an  object  of  the  most  tender  compassion ; 
here  would  be  a  spacious  field  for  the  display  of  the 
most  interestbg  and  tragical  affections  2  the  fiital  catas- 
trophe would  be  deplored ;  the  blindness,  disgrace,  exile 
of  the  herd,  would'  enhance  the  distress  of  the  scene  i 
and  to  the  bitterness  of  present  calamity  would  be  added 
the  still  more  bitter  remembrance  of  the  past.  The  poet 
might  cc^iously  display  the  sorrow  and  commiseration 
of  hb  daughters,  his  detestation  of  himself,  and  of  all 
that  belong  to  him,  and  more  copiously,  of  those  who 
had  preserved  him  when  exposed,  who  had  supported 
and  educated  hi^n  ;  all  these  topics  the  poet  has  slightljr 
touched  upon  in  these  lines, 

O  curst  Cithabron  i  why  didst  thou  receive  me  ? 

Or  when  thiMi  didst»  how  couldst  thou  not  destrof  ine  ? 

The  succeeding  passages  are  also  extremely  pathetic- 
These  would  easily  admit  of  amplification,  and,  when 
the  ardour  of  grief  was  a  little  abated,  he  might  have  add-» 
ed  his  vindication  of  himself,  his  asseverations  of  h'ls  in- 
nocence, his  plea  of  ignorance,  and  fatal  necessity,  and 
his  impassioned  exclamations  against  fortune  and  the 
gods.  From  all  this  might  be  constructed  a  poem» 
great,  splendid,  copious,  diversified;  and  the  subject 
would  also  furnish  a  topic  of  disputation  not  unlike  that 
of  Job.  It  might  also  assume  in  some  measure  the  dra- 
matic form ;  the  same  characters  that  appear  in  the  trag<t 
edy  might  I^  introduced  ;  it  might  possess  the  exact 
proportions  and  all  the  requisites  of  a  drama,  fable  alone^ 
excepted,  which  indeed  constitutes  the  very  esseiKc  of 


4rs  OF  THB  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lbct.SS. 

a  dramatic  poem,  and  withcmt  whick  altoAcr  quaUdeg 
are  of  no  avail :  for  the  Greeks  would  have  oaHed  soeh  s 
production  a  monody,  or  el^^c  dialogue,  or  any  iUaag 
but  a  tragedy. 

This  ojunion  receives  still  further  confirmation  finom 
the  example  and  authority  of  Sc^ocles  himself  in  anoth- 
er instance.    For  when  he  again  introduces  the  same 
Oedipus  upon  the  stage  in  another  tragedy,  though 
the  ground-work  of  the  piece  be  neariy  that  which  we 
have  been  describing,  the  conduct  df  it  is  totally  differ* 
ent.     This  piece  is  called  Oedipus  Coloneus ;  the  jrikit 
or  &ble  is  quite  simple,  on  which  account  it  is  a  &irer 
object  of  comparison  with  the  poem  of  Job  than  any  the 
plot  of  which  is  more  complez.    Oedipus  is  introduced 
blind,  exiled,  and  oppressed  with  misery :  ncHie  of  those 
circumstances  above-mentioned  have  escaped  the  Poet; 
such  as  the  lamentation  of  hb  misery,  the  passionate  ex* 
clamations  against  Fate  and  the  Gods,  and  the  vindica* 
tion  of  his  innocence.     These,  however,  do  not  form  the 
basis  of  the  poem ;  they  are  introduced  merely  as  cin 
fcumstances,  which  afford  matter  of  amplificatioo,  and 
which  seem  to  flow  from  that  elegant  plot  or  action  he 
has  invented.     Oedipus,  led  by  hb  daughter,  arrives  at 
Colonus,  there  to  die  and  be  interred  acoonting  to  the 
admonition  of  the  Oracle ;  for  upon  diese  drcumstan* 
ces  the  victory  of  the  Athenians  over  the  Thebans  waa 
made  to  depend.    The  place  being  accounted  sacred, 
the  Athenians  are  unwilling  to  receive  him ;  but  These* 
us  affords  him  refuge  and  protection.     Another  of  h» 
daughters  is  introduced,  who  informs  hifti  of  the  dis- 
cord between  her  brothers,  also  that  Creon  b  comings 
with  an  intention  of  bringing  him  back  to  his  own  coun- 
try in  pursuance  of  a  decree  of  tlie  Thebans.     After  tfab 
Crcon  arrives ;  he  endeavours  to  per^iade  Oedipus  to 


LJI6T.  SS..  of  tH£  I^Ol!M  09  S0%  479 

Htmn  to  Thebes ;  and  on  his  refusal,  attempts  to  mske 
use  cf  violence.  Theseus  protects  Oedipus :  and  in  the 
lAean  time  Polynices  arrives,  with  a  view  oi  bringing 
over  bis  father  to  his  party  in  the  war  against  the  The* 
bans :  this  being  the  only  condition  on  which  he  was  to 
hope  for  victory.  Oedipus  refuses,  and  execrates  his 
son  in  the  severest  terms :  in  conclusion,  the  answer  of 
the  Oracle  being  communicated  to  Theseus,  Oedipus 
dks,  dnd  is  secretly  buried  there.  In  this  manner  is 
constructed  a  regutor,  perfect,  and  important  action  or 
plot ;  all  the  parts  of  which  are  connected  together  in 
one  design,  and  tend  exactly  to  the  same  conclusion,  and 
in  which  are  mvolved  the  fates  of  both  Thebes  and  A* 
thens.  The  manners,  passions,  characters,  and  senti- 
ments, serve  to  adorn,  but  not  to  support  the  fable. 
Without  any  strikii%  representation  of  these,  the  plot 
or  action  would  still  remain,  and  would  of  itself  sustain 
the  tragedy ;  but  if  the  action  be  removed,  though  all 
the  rest  remain,  it  is  evident  that  the  tragedy  b  totally 
annihilated. 

From  d^se  observations  it  wilt,  I  think,  be  evident, 
that  the  poem  of  Job  cannot  properly  be  brouglit  into 
comparison  with  either  Oedipus  of  Sophocles,  or  with 
any  other  of  the  Greek  tragedies.  It  will  be  evident, 
I  think,  that  this  poem  ought  not  to  be  accounted  of  the 
same  kind ;  nor  can  possibly  be  classed  with  them,  un- 
less the  whole  nature  and  form  of  either  the  Greek  or 
the  Hebrew  poem  be  changed ;  or  unless  the  plot  or 
action  be  taken  from  the  one,  or  added  to  the  other : 
for  without  this  great  essential  no  poem  can  indeed  be 
accounted  a  perfect  drama. 

But  though  I  have  urged  thus  much  against  its  claim' 
to  that  title,  let  it  not  be  understood  that  I  wish  to  de« 
fogate  from  its  merits.    That  censure  will  rather  appl/ 


4M  (MT  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  LxcT.Si^ 

to  those  who,  by  criticising  it  according  to  foreign  and 
improper  rules»  would  make  that  composition  appear 
lame  and  imperfect,  which  on  the  contrary  is  in  its  kind 
most  beautiful  and  perfect.  If  indeed  the  extreme  an- 
tiquity of  this  poem,  the  obscurity  and  the  difficulty  that 
necessarily  ensue  from  that  circumstance  be  considered ; 
and  if  allowance  be  made  for  the  total  want  of  plot  and 
action,  we  shall  have  cause  to  wonder  at  the  el^^ance  | 

and  interest  which  we  find  in  its  form,  conduct,  and  I 

economy.  The  arrangement  is  perfectly  regular,  and 
every  part  b  admirably  adapted  to  its  end  and  design. 
The  antiquary  or  the  critic,  who  has  been  at  the  pains 
to  trace  the  history  of  the  Grecian  drama  from  its 
first  weak  and  imperfect  efibrts,  and  has  carefully  ob- 
served  its  tardy  progress  to  perfection,*  will  scarcely,  I 
think,  without  astonishment,  contemplate  a  poem  pro- 
duced so  many  ages  before,  so  elegant  in  its  design,  so 
regular  in  its  structure,  so  animated,  soa&cting,  so 
near  to  the  true  dramatic  model :  while,  on  the  contra- 
ry, the  united  wisdom  of  Greece,  after  ages  of  study, , 
was  not  able  to  produce  any  thing  approaching  to  per- 
fection in  this  walk  of  poetry  before  the  time  of  i£schy- 
lus.  But  however  this  be^— whatever  rank  may  be  as- 
signed to  Job,  in  a  comparison  with  the  poets  of  Greece^ 
to  whom  we  mtist  at  least  allow  the  merit  of  art  and 
method ;  amongst  the  Hebrews,  it  must  certainly  be 
allowed,  in  this  respect,  to  be  unrivalled.  It  is  of  little 
consequence  whether  it  be  esteemed  a  didactic  or  an 
ethic,  a  pathetic  or  dramatic  poem ;  only  let  it  be  as- 
signed a  distinct  and  conspicuous  station  in  the  highest 
rank  of  the  Hebrew  poetry. 

•  See  note  (3)  on  Lect  XXX. 


LECTURE  XXXIV. 

OF  THE  MAKNERS,  SENTIMEKTS,  ASTD  STYLE  OF  THE  POEM 

OF  JOB. 

Though  the  poem  of  Job  do  not  contain  a  plot  or  fable,  it  possesses,  nev- 
ertheless, some  things  in  common  with  the  perlect  dramas— Kakvebs  or 
idiaracter---Tlie  manners  of  Job ;  to  be  dtstinguishad  from  the  passions 
or  emotions — ^The  opinion  of  Aristotle,  that  the  character  of  extreme 
virtue  is  not  proper  for  trag^y,  demonstrated  to  be  neither  applicable 
to  Job,  nor  true  with  respect  to  tragedy  in  general— The  design  of  the» 
poem — ^The  manners  of  the  three  friends :  the  gradations  of  passion  more 
strongly  marked  in  them  than  the  diversity  of  manners — ^Elihu — ^The 
expostulation  of  God  himself— Sismtxirrs ;  expressive  of  things  and 
ofmamien;  the  Utter  already  noticed ;  the  farmer  consist  partly  of 
passion,  partly  of  description  :  two  examples  of  the  softer  passions :  ex- 
amples of  description — ^The  Style  of  this  poem  uncommonly  elegant  and 
sublime ;  and  the  poetic  conformation  of  the  sentences  extremely  cor- 
rect—Peroration,  recommending  the  study  of  Hebrew  literature. 

W  HEN  I  contended  that  the  poem  of  Job  ought  not  to 
be  accounted  a  true  and  regular  drama,  such  as  are  the 
tragedies  of  the  Greeks,  I  was  far  from  insinuating,  that 
it  jdid  not  possess  the  dramatic  form.  I  not  only  al» 
lowed,  that  in  its  general  conduct  and  economy  it  ex- 
hibited a  similitude,  an  anticipation  as  it  were  of  genu- 
ine tragedy ;  but  that  it  contained  also  all  the  principal 
requisites  of  a  dramatic  poem,  fable  alone  excepted :  of 
these  tlie  first  and  most  important  is,  the  imitation  of 
manners  or  character. 

The  manners  are  what  serve  to  mark  or  discriminate 
the  different  persons,  who  take  a  part  in  the  action  of 
the  poem,  to  declare  and  express  each  character's  pe- 
culiar mode  of  speaking,  thinking,  and  acting;   and 
61 


489  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB,  Lbct.  34. 

compose  as  it  were  the  intellectual  image  of  the  man. 
The  principal  personage  in  this  poem  is  Job,  and  in  bis 
character  is  meant  to  he  exhibited  (as  far  as  is  consist- 
ent with  human  infirmity)  an  example  of  perfect  virtue. 
This  is  intimated  in  the<  argument  or  introduction,  but 
is  still  more  eminendy  displayed  by  his  ovm  actions  and 
aentimenls.  He  is  holy,  devout,  and  most  piously  and 
reverently  impressed  with  the  sacred  awe  of  bis  divine 
Creator ;  he  is  also  upright,  and  conscious  of  his  own 
integrity ;  he  is  patient  of  evil,  and  yet  very  remote  from 
that  insensibility  or  rather  stupidity  to  which  the  Stoic 
school  pretended.  Oppressed  therefore  with  unparallel- 
ed misfortunes,  he  laments  his  misery,  and  even  wishes 
a  release  by  death ;  in  other  words,  he  obeys,  and  gives 
place  to  the  dictates  of  nature :  irritated,  however,  by 
the  unjust  insinuations,  and  the  severe  reproaches  of  his 
pretended  friends,  he  b  more  vehemently  exasperated, 
and  the  too  great  confidence  in  his  own  righteousness 
leads  him  to  expostulate  with  God  in  terms  scarcely 
consistent  with  piety  and  strict  decorum. 

It  must  be  observed,  that  the  first  speech  of  Job, 
though  it  burist  forth  with  all  the  vehemence  of  passion, 
consists  wholly  of  complaint,  **  the  words  and  senti- 
ments of  a  despairing  person,  empty  as  the  wind  ;*'* 
which  is  indeed  the  apology  that  he  immediately  makes 
for  hb  conduct;  intimating,  that  he  b  far  from  presum- 
ing to  plead  with  God,  far  from  daring  to  call  in  ques- 
tion the  divine  decrees,  or  even  to  mention  hb  own  in- 
nocence in  the  presence  of  his  all-jost  Creator :  nor  do 
I  see  any  good  reason  for  the  censure  which  has  been 
passed  by  some  commentators  upon  this  passage.  The 
poet  seems,  with  great  judgement  and  ingenuity,  to  have 
l>erformed  in  thb  what  the  nature  of  his  work  required. 

i  Job  vl  26w 


L»CT.  34.  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  401 

He  has  depicted  the  affliction  aod  anguish  of  Job,  as 
flowing  from  his  wounded  heart  in  a  manner  so  agree-, 
able  to  human  nature  (and  certainly  so  far  venial)  that 
it  may  be  truly  said,  **  in  all  this  Job  sinned  not  with 
his  lips.'*  It  is,  nevertheless,  embellished  by  such  af- 
fecting imagery,  and  inspired  with  such  a  warmth  and 
force  of  sentiment,  that  we  find  it  a&rded  ample  scope, 
for  cdumny ;  nor  did  the  unkind  witnesses  of  his  suf^. 
ferings  permit  «so  &ir  an  opportunity  to  escape.  .  The. 
occasion  is  eagerly  embraced  by  Eliphaz^  tor^ebuke  the 
impatience  of  Job ;  and,  not  satisfied  with  thb,  he  pro- 
ceeds  to  accuse  him  in  direct  terms  of  wapting  forti- 
tude, and  obliquely  to  insinuate  something  of  a  deeper 
die.  Though  deeply  hurt  with  the  coarse  reproaches 
of  Eliphaz,  still,  however,  when  Job  afterwards  com- 
plains of  the  severity  of  God,  he  cautiously  refrains 
from  violent  expostulations  with  his  Creator  and  con- 
tented with  the  simple  expression  of  affliction,  he  hui)n- 
bly  confesses  himself  a  sinner.*  Hence,  I  think,  it  is 
evident,  that  those  vehement  and  perverse  attestations  of 
his  innocence,  those  murmurs  against  the  divine  Provi- 
dence, which  his  tottering  virtue  afterwards  permits,  are 
to  be  considered  merely  as  the  consequences  of  mo- 
mentary passion,  and  not  as  the  ordinary  eSbcts  of  his 
settled  character  or  manners.  The]r  prove  him  at  the 
very  worst  not  an  irreligious^man,  but  a  man  possessed 
of  integrity,  and  too  confident  of  it ;  a  man  oppressed 
with  almost  every  imaginable  evil,  both  corporal  and 
mental,  and  hurried  beyond  the  limits  of  virtue  by  the 
strong  influence  of  pain  and  affliction.  When,  on  the 
contrary,  his  importunate  visitors  abandon  by  silence 
the  cause  which  they  had  so  wantonly  and  so  malicious- 
ly maintained ;  and  cease  unjustly  to  load  him  with  on- 

'  See  chap.  viL  30. 


484  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  L«ct.  34. 

merited  criminations ;  though  he  defends  his  argument 
with  scarcely  less  obstinacy ;  yet  the  vehemence  of  his 
grief  appears  gradually  to  subside,  he  returns  to  him- 
self,  and  explains  his  sentiments  widi  more  candour  and 
sedateness :  and  however  we  may  blame  him  for  as- 
suming rather  too  much  of  arrogance  in  his  appeals  to 
the  Almighty,  certainly  his  defence  against  the  accusa- 
tions of  Eliphaz  is  no  more  than  the  occasion  will 
$tricdy  justify.  Observe,  in  the  first  place,  how  ad- 
mirably  the  Confidence  and  perseverance  of  Job  is  dis- 
played in;  replying  to  the  slander  of  his  false  friends : 

<<  As  God  liveth,  who  hath  remoTcd  roy  judgement ; 
'  <(  Nay,  as  the  Almighty  liveth,  who  hath  embittered  my  Boul ; 
«  Vertty  «b  long  as  f  have  life  in  me, 
**  And  the  biMtb  of  God  is  in  my  nostrils ; 
M  I4y  lipa  «ball  not  speak  perversity, 
<(  Neither  shall  my  toague  whisper  prevarication. 
<<  God  forbid  that  I  should  declare  yoa  righteous  I 
«  Till  I  expire  I  will  not  remove  my  integrity  from  me. 
«< '  I  have  fortified  myself  in  my  righteousness, 
<«  And  I  will  not  g^e  up  by  station  ; 
«<  My  heart  sbaii  not  upbraid  me  as  long  as  I  li?e. 
«<  May  my  enemy  be  a»  the  impious  man, 
<'  And  he  that  riseth  up  against  me  as  the  wicked."' 

But  how  magmficent»  how  noble,  how  inviting  and 
beautiful  is  that  image  of  virtue,  in  which  he  delineate^ 
his  past  life !  What  dignity  and  authority  docs  he  seem 
to  possess ! 

<«  If  I  came  out  to  the  ffiXtt  nigh  the  j^ace  of  public  resort^ 
<(  If  I  took  up  my  seat  in  the  street ; 
«  The  young  men  saw  me,  and  they  hid  themselves; 
X  Nay,  the  very  old  men  rose  up  and  stood.|  ' 

3  Chap.  xiYil  2--r. 

4  <*  This  is  a  most  elegant  description,  and  exhibits  mosl  correctly  that 
«  great  reverence  ttpA  teipect  which  was  paid  even  by  the  old  anddecregit 
<*  to  the  holy  man  in  passing  along  the  streets,  or  when  he  sat  in  public. 
*'  They  not  only  rose,  which  in  men  so  old  and  so  infim  was  a  great  mark 


titer.  34.  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  485 

<<  The  prbces  refrained  talking» 

«  Nay,  they  laid  their  hands  on  their  mouths. 

^  The  nobles  held  their  peace, 

<<  And  their  tongue  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  their  mouth."' 

What  liberality !  what  a  promptitude  in  beneficence ! 

K  Because  the  ear  heard»  therefore  it  blessed  me ; 
<<  The  eye  also  saw,  therefore  it  bare  testimony  for  me. 
^  That  I  delivered  the  poor  who  criedi 
**  The  orphan  also,  and  him  who  had  no  helper. 
'  **  The  blessing  of  him  who  was  ready  to  perish  came  upon  me, 
<<  And  I  caused  the  heart  of  the  widow,  to  nng  for  joy."* 

What  sanctity,  what  integrity  in  a  judicial  capacity ! 

^  I  put  on  righteousness,  and  it  clothed  me  like  a  robe ; 
«  My  justice  also  was  a  diadem. 
^  I  was  a  fotber  to  the  poor, 

«<  And  the  controversy  which  I  kaew  not,  I  aearched  it  out. 
<<  Then  brake^  I  the  grinders  of  the  oppressor, 
,  <«  And  I  plucked  the  prey  out  of  his  teeth.*'^ 

But  what  can  be  more  engaging  than  the  purity  of  his 
devotion,  and  his  reverence  for  the  .Supreme,  Being, 
founded  ijpon  the  best  and  most  philosophical  princi- 
ples ?  Besides  that  thrpugh  the  whole  there  runs  a  strain 
of  the  most  amiable  tepdemess.  and  hupianity  : 

<«  For  what  is  the  ponion  which  Ood  distributetb  from  above» 

«  And  the  inberitance  of  the  Almighty  from,  on  high  ? 

*^  Is  it  not  destruction  to  the  wicked, 

^  And  banishment*  from  their  country  to  the  doers  of  iniquity  ? 

«/  of  distinptloD^  but  they  stood :  they  centimied  t»  do  k«  thoo^  even  the 
t*  attempt  was  so  diffipulC*    H. 

'  Chap.  xxix.  7—10. 

•  Chap.  xxix.  11—13.  .  »  Cliap.  xxix.  14, 16,  17. 

S  **  Abaliena^tion :  or  reproliation,  repudiation  :  ao  the  word  signifies  in 
**  the  Arabic  dialect.  Abaltenation  agrees  with  the  Sxpt.  yersioiiy  and  pjer- 
«'  fectly  expresses  the  force  of  the  Hebrew  word.'*    H. 

This  passage  appears  to  have  a  manifest  relation  to  the  history  of  Nim- 
lodand  his  adherents,  and  may  be  added  to  the  others  which  have  been  al-;^ 
ready  mentioned,  in  proof  of  their  story  having  been  out  of  the  common^ 
phce  topics  of  the  Hebrew  poets.    9.  H. 


4S6  OF  THE  POEM  OF  lOB.  Lect.  d4. 

«  Doth  he  not  &ee  my  ways  ? 

«t  And  numberetb  he  not  alt  my  steps  ? 

M  If  I  should  despise  die  cause  of  my  senrantf 

««  Or  my  maid  when  they  had  a  coDtroversy  with  me^ 

««  What  then  should  I  do  when  God  ariseth. 

(«  And  when  he  visiteth/what  answer  could  t  make  him  ? 

<c  Did  not  he  who  formed  me  in  the  belly  form  him> 

M  And  did  not  one  fashion  us  in  the  womb  ?**^ 

Aristotle  has  remarked,  that  the  example  of  a  singu- 
latly  good  man  &lling  from  prosperous  circumstances 
into  misfortune»  is  by  no  means  a  proper  subject  fw  a 
tragedy  ;^  s^ice  it  b  offensive  and  indecent  rather  than 
piteous  or  terrible.^^  This  remark»  though  consistent 
enough  with  the  Greek  drama»  and  with  the  sentiments 
and  manners  erf*  the  heathens,  is  scarcely  aj^cable  to  oor 
tragedy,  and  stiH  less  to  ^  poem  of  Job.  "  Pity,"  says 
the  same  author  pn  another  occasion,  **  b  excited  when 
*'  adversity  fidls  upon  those  who  are  undeservinjg;  of  iL" 
Great  virtue  therefore  plunged  into  gmt  misfortunes,  so 
iar  from  being  an  unsuitable  subject,  ought  to  be  the 
most  direct  and  ptoper  Means  of  moving  compassion. 
*•  Terror  b  excited  by  a  representation  of  the  misery  of 
**  such  persons  as  bear  tfie  nearest  resemblance  to  our* 
**  «elves:"  the  misfoitunes  thevefore  of  those,  who  are 
vicious  in  an  extreme,  are  not  much  calculated  to  excite 
terror ;  but  thb  is  by  no  means  the  case  with  regard  to 
the  misery  of  such  as  are  eminently  good ;  fcnr  if  we 
fear  for  ourselves  when  we  see  moderate  virtue  in  afflic- 
tion, much  more,  surely,  when  a  superior  degree  of  it 
is  in  that  state."    It  appears  to  me,  therefore,  that  Aris- 

0  Chap.  xxzL  2—4.  13—15.  »  De.  Poet  cap.  xUL 

i>  The  opuikm  of  Aristotle  appears  to  be,  that  such  a  representation  is 
calculatert  to  excite  our  indignation  (possibly  against  the  gods ;)  and  con- 
sequently that  this  passion  is  likely  to  counteract  the  sentiments  of  pity 
and  terror.    T. 

o  **  Men  also  pity  their  equals  in  age,  nuumerf ,  rank,  situation,  and 


LxcT.  34.  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  m 

tode  was  not  of  opinioD,  that  the  example  d'a  Tdy  good 
man  in  extreme  affliction  is  ill  calculated  to  excite  either 
pity  or  terror ;  but  rather  it  is  a  spectacle  likely  to  prove 
injurious  to  the  cause  of  virtue,  and  therefore  disgusting 
and  detestable,  and  consequently  unfit  to  be  produced 
upon  the  stage.     This  opinion  of  the  philosopher  seems 
to  result  from  an  un}ust  and  visicniaiy  estimation  of  hu« 
man  virtue,  to  repress  which  appears  to  have  been  tho 
veiy  design  and  object  of  the  book  of  Job.    The  chern 
acter  of  Job  indeed,  though  approaching  so  near  to  the 
perfection  of  virtue,  seems,  notwithstanding,  to  have  a 
considerable  alloy  of  human  infirmity,  so  as  neither  to 
want  probability,  nor  to  lose  its  efiect  in  exciting  terror. 
For  if  it  be  extreme  wickedness  in  the  most  upright  of 
men,  when  oppressed  with  the  severest  misery,  to  mur- 
mur  at  all  against  the  divine  justice,  who  then  shall  stand 
before  God  ?  Who  shall  expect  to  pass  through  the  pil- 
grimi^  of  life  without  hb  portion  of  evil  and  of  sin  ? 
The  end  of  the  poem  is  moreover  by  no  means  ill  calcu* 
lated  to  excite  terror ;  since  this  moral  is  particularly 
inculcated  in  it,  **  Be  not  high-minded,  but  fear ;"  and 
Job.  himself  seta  before  us,  what  impression  the  exam- 
pie  of  his  niiaibrtunes  ought  to  make  upon  our  minds 
in  this  respect : 

<*  The  upright  will  be  astonished  at  this, 

^  Then  the  ninocent  will  surefy  rise  np  agunst  the  profligate ; 

^  The  righteous  man  will  also  hold  on  his  wny, 

«  And  he  that  hath  clean  hands  will  gather  strength."^^ 

« lurth ;  thii  indeed  hrings  the  evil  nearer  to  themselves ;  and  the  obvious 
'*  reflection  is,  that  they  are  equally  exposed  to  ft :  for  it  is  an  established 
**  maxim,  that  men  pity  others  on  the  same  accounts,  and  in  the  same  pro- 
''  portion  as  tbey  fear  for  themselves— especially  if  the  sufferers  be  esteem 
*'  cd  good  men  ;  for  the  misery  b  brought  immediately  before  their  eyas 
«  and  is  consequently  rendered  more  glaring  and  apparent'* 

AsisT.  Bhct,  ii.  8. 
IS  Chap,  zviii.  8,  9. 


4M  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lbct.  S4.- 

The  three  friends  are  exactly  such  characters  as  the  na* 
ture  of  the  poem  required.  They  are  severe,  irritable^ 
malignant  censors,  readily  and  with  apparent  satis&ctioii 
deviating  from  the  purpose  of  consolation  into  reproof 
and  contumely.  Even  from  the  very  first  they  manifest 
this  evil  propensity,  and  indicate  what  is  to  be  expected 
from  them.  The  first  ci  them,  indeed,  in  the  openii^ 
of  his  harangue,  assumes  an  air  of  candour : 

^  Wouldtt  tbott  take  it  aokbdlj  that  one  should  essay  to  speak 
to  thee  }"M 

Indignation  is,  however,  instantly  predominant-: 

<<  But  a  few  words  who  can  forbear  ? 

The  second  flames  forth  at  once  : 

«  How  long  wilt  thou  trifle  io  this  maoaer  i 

^  How  long  shall  the  words  of  thy  mouth  be  as  a  mighty  wind  ?"iJ^ 

But  remark  the  third  : 

^  Shall  not  the  master  of  words  be  aoswered  I 

<<  Or  shall  a  man  be  acquitted  for  his  fine  speeches  I 

<<  Shall  thy  prevarications  make  men  silent  ? 

'<  Shalt  thou  even  scoff,  and  there  be  no  one  to  make  thee  asham* 

ed  ?••!• 
They  are  represented  as  illiberal,  contentious ;  inclined 
to  torture  every  thing  to  the  worst  of  purposes : 

«  Doth  God  pervert  judgement  ? 

"  Doth  the  Almighty  pervert  justice  F"»^ 

Where  observe,  Job  has  not  as  yet  uttered  an  intemper» 
ate  expression  in  disparagement  of  the  divine  justice. 

•*  Nay,  thou  casteth  off  fear, 

<<  And  thou  restrainest  prayer  before  God  :"i> 
Such  is  the  invective  of  the  other  of  them.     They  are 
also  proud,  contemptuous,  and  arrogate  too  much  to 
their  own  wisdom : 

14  Chap.  iv.  2.  i*  Chap.  viii.  2.  i»  Chap,  xl  2,  3. 

IT  Chap.  viii.  3.  "  Chap,  xv,  4. 


Lkct.  84.  OF  THE  POEM  OP  JOB.  4t« 

^  Why  are  we  accounted  aa  beaali ; 

<*  Why  are  we  Ti&e  in  jour  eyes  ? 

«  Let  him  tear  himaeif  in  hia  fury  ; 

^  Whati  shall  the  earth  be  forsaken  for  thee  ?"» 
«  Or  shall  the  rock  be  outrooted  from  its  place  ? 
«  Rather  let  the  light  of  the  wicked  be  extinguished.**» 

Nor  is  Zophar,  who  takes  up  the  subject  after  Bildad, 

more  modest : 

M  Verily  the  impulse  of  my  thoughts  incite  me  to  reply, 
<*  Even  because  there  is  some  resentment  within  me : 
M  I  hear  the  ignominious  reproof  that  is  aimed  at  me» 
<<  And  the  spirit  within  me  compels  me  to  answer."*^ 

The  conduct  of  all  these  malicious  censors  is  much 
the  same  through  the  whole  piece.  Eliphaz  indeed, 
who  begins  in  the  mildest  terms,  descends  afterwards 
to  the  severest  reproaches ;  and  he  indirectly  charges 
Job  with  the  most  atrocious  offences  :  from  which  in- 
temperance of  language,  it  must  be  confessed,  the  oth- 
ers refrain.  Bildad,  not  to  be  silent,  repeats  in  a  brief  and 
florid  manner  the  subject,  which  had  already  been  twice 
treated  of  by  the  others,  namely,  the  majesty  and  holi- 
ness of  God ;  and  Zophar,  withdrawing  from  the  con- 
test, deserts  intirely  the  cause  of  his  companion,  and 
leaves  the  field  to  Job.    The  business  of  defamation  in- 

S»  So  the  LXX.  *'  What !  iftluu  diett,  thall  the  whole  earth  be  dentate  f 
**  Which  version,  or  rather  paraphrase»  is  most  elegant,  and  in  my  opinion 
**  finely  aeeommodatcd  to  the  purpose  of  the  sacied  writer.  Wlien  the 
**  OricntsU  would  reprove  the  pride  or  arrogance  of  any  person,  it  is  com- 
**  mon  for  them  to  desire  him  to  call  to  mind  how  little  and  contemptible 
^  he  and  every  mortal  is,  in  these  or  similar  apothegms  ; 

**  VHiat  though  Mohammed  were  dead  ? 

**  His  Jmaun»  (or  ministers)  conducted  the  affairt  of  the  nation. 

"  The  universe  shall  not  fall  for  his  sake. 

**  The  world  does  not  subsist  for  one  man  alone. 
**  "Sttj,  this  very  phrase  is  still  in  use  among  the  Arabic  \iTiters,  nSTy 
«'r^bM,  «the  earth  is  desoUte.'»    Ool.  col.  1570.    H. 

M  Chap.  zviaL  3—5.  n  Chap.  xx.  2,  3. 

62 


490  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  Lmt.  M* 

deed  seems  with  great  propriety^  committed  to  three 
persons.  It  would  have  been  too  confined  and  trivial  in 
the  bands  of  one ;  and,  amongst  a  crowd  of  accusers, 
too  confused  and  clamorous.  There  appears,  however, 
but  little  difference  in  the  manners  of  the  three  friends  i 
for  in  them  the  poet  has  rather  studied  to  display  the 
progress  of  the  passions,  than  any  diversity  of  character. 
But  though  the  nice  and  fastidious  criticism  of  the  mod- 
ems demand  variety  in  this  repect,  the  simplicity  of  in- 
fant ppetry  will  be  excusied  by  every  person  of  real 
judgement ;  and  I  think  this  deficiency  (if  such  it  may 
tie  called)  is  amply  compensated  by  the  gravity  and  tm- 
portanoe  of  the  subject  and  sentiments. 

The  lenity  and  moderation  of  EUhu  serves  as  abeau» 
tiful  contrast  to  the  intemperance  and  a^rity  of  the 
other  three.  He  is  pious,  mild  and  equitable  ;  equally 
bee  from  adulation  and  severity ;  and  endued  with  aio- 
gular  wisdoms  which  he  attributes  entirely  to  tfae  inspi- 
ration of  God :  smd  his  modes^,  oioderatiopi»  and  wis- 
dom, are  the  more  entitled  to  commendation  when  we 
consider  his  unripe  youth*  As  the  characters  of  his  de« 
fractors  were  in  all  respects  calculated  to  ii^me  the 
mind  of  Job ;  that  of  this  arbitrator  is  admirably  adapfted 
to  sooth  and  compose  it :  to  this  point  the  whole  drifted 
the  argument  tends,  and  on  this  the  very  purport  of  it 
^eems  to  depend. 

The  interposition  of  the  Deity,  and  its  connexion 
with  the  general  design  of  the  poem,  I  have  formerly  no- 
ticed. I  will  only  add,  that  although  some  critics  have 
really  thought  the  whole  address  inconsistent,  and  for- 
eign to  the  subject,  no  man  has  ever  accounted  it  in  any 
respect  unworthy  of  that  supreme  Majesty  to  which  it 
is  ascribed. 
Another  circumstance  deserving  particular  attention 


EscT.  U.  6T  THE  POEU  OF  Jdb.  4tt 

in  a  poem  of  this  kind,  is  the  sentiment ;  which  miist 
be  agreeable  to  the  subject,  and  embellished  with  prop, 
er  expression.  It  is  by  Aristotle  enumerated  among 
the  essentials  of  a  dramatic  poem ;  not  indeed  as  pecu- 
liar to  that  species  of  poetry  alone,  but  as  common,  and 
of  the  greatest  importance  to  alL  Manners  or  charac- 
ter are  essential  only  to  that  poetry  in  which  living  per- 
sons are  introduced ;  and  all  such  poems  must  afford  an 
exact  representation  of  human  manners :  but  sentiment 
b  essential  to  every  poem,  indeed  to  every  composition 
whatever.  It  respects  bolli  persons  and  things ;  as  far 
as  it  regards  persons,  it  is  particularly  concerned  in  the 
delineation  of  the  manners  and  passions :  and  those  in- 
stances to  which  I  have  just  been  adverting,  are  senti- 
ments expressive  of  manners.  Those  which  relate  to 
tl^e  delineation  of  the  passions,  and  to  the  description  of 
other  objects,  yet  remain  unnoticed  in  this  Lecture.  As 
I  formerly,  however,  treated  of  these  subjects  in  gener- 
al,  I  could  scarcely  avoid  producing  some  examples 
from  this  poem ;  for  in  demonstrating  the  power  of  the 
l^oetic  diction  in  exciting  the  passions,  I  could  not  pos- 
nbly  deduce  my  instances  from  a  better  source.**  On 
the  present  occasion,  therefore,  I  shaU  study  brevity, 
and  avoid  as  much  as  possible  the  tediousness  of  repe- 
tition. 

The  poem  of  Job  abounds  chiefly  in  the  more  vehe- 
ment passions,  grief  and  anger,  indignation  and  violent 
contention.  It  is  adapted  in  every  respect  to  the  incite^ 
ment  of  terror ;  and,  as  the  specimens  already  quoted 
will  sufficiently  prove,  is  universally  animated  with  the 
true  spirit  of  sublimity.  It  is  however  not  wanting  in 
the  gentler  afiections ;  the  following  complaints,  for  in- 
stance, are  replete  with  an  affecting  spirit  of  melancholy ; 

W  See  Lect.  xiv.  xvi.  xvii. 


4»%,  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  hmer.  U. 

¥  Man,  the  oflEspring  of  a  wonaoy 
<<  Is  of  few  daySf  and  full  of  inquietude  ; 
<<  He  spring^eth  up,  and  is  cut  off  like  a  flower ; 
**  He  fleeteth  like  a  shadow,  and  doth  not  abide : 
-  <<  Upon  such  a  creature  dost  thou  open  thine  eyes  ? 
*<  And  wilt  thou  briog  even  me  into  judgement  with  thee  f 
^  Turn  thy  look  from  him»  that  he  may  have  tome  respites 
^  Till  he  shall,  like  a  hireling,  have  completed*?  his  daj."*^ 

The  whole  pas^aage  abounds  with  the  most  beautiful 
imageryi  and  is  a  most  perfect  specimen  of  the  Elegiac. 
His  grief  afterwards  becomes  more  fervent ;  but  |s  at 
th^  same  time  soft  and  querimonious. 

^  How  long  will  je  vex  my  soul, 

^  And  tire  ine  with  vain  hiM^ngues  ? 

<<  These  ten  times  have  ye  loaded  me  with  reproaches, 

<<  Are  ye  not  ashamed  that  ye  are  so  obstinate  against  me  ?H 

"Pity  me,  O  pity  me,  ye  arc  my  friends, 

<<  For  the  hand  of  God  hath  smitten  me. 

"  Why  wUl  you  be  my  persecutors  as  well  as  God, 

"  And  therefore  will  ye  not  be  satisfied  with  my  flesh  V^ 

That  self-indulgence  which  is  so  natural  to  the  passion 

SS  "  Or  until  he  thaU  acqmete  .*  or  thaU  make  auH^factitn  (the  original 
**  will  bear  either  interpretation ;)  for  the  word  in  the  Arabic  dialect  some- 
^*  times  signifies.  He  did  or  aforded  la  amther,  what  he.  held  ie  be  agreeMi 
•*  la  him»e(fr    H. 

s*  Chap.  xiv.  1,  2,  3,  6. 

V  "  I  think  the  word  rorm  occurs  but  this  once  in  the  Scriptures  and 
**  (as  is  my  usual  practice  when  1  meet  with  any  sueh  words  or  phrases)  I 
"  consulted  the  Arabic  Lexicographers.  They  explain  it  by  two  other 
**  words,  the  one  is  aap  to  admire,  the  other  is  ^Mn  to  wander^  f  be  aetanr 
**  Uhed  Whence  *iarr  lo  wnder  in  amazement,  fu  be  overcome  vith  iwlon- 
*'  ithment,  as  GioaBics  explains  it)  and  the  sense  of  the  passage  will  be, 
**  are  ym  noi  a^hanifid,  to  gaxe  at  m^.  Kmcai  sayi^  bis  father  affirmed»  that 
**  the  word  isrr  signifies  in  Arabic  impudence  or  /ormardne§e  /  I  do  not 
'*  however  find  this  interpreution  confirmed  by  the  Lexicons  which  I  have 
*<  consulted.  But  still  if  we  suppose,  that  the  word  ynstm  is  derived  from 
**  *pa,  the  explication  of  Kiii^chi  may  be  accepted ;  but  uie  tbrro  of  the  verl^ 
**  wiii  be  anomalous.  It  is  however  safest  perhaps  to  adhere  to  the  com^. 
**  mon  translation.**    H. 

!•  Chap.  xix.  2,  3,  21,  22. 


L»eT.  U.  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  4$i 

of  hope ;  its  ingenuity  in  drawing  pictures  of  future  fe- 
li€ity ;  its  credulity  in  cherishing  these  ideas,  and  the 
gaiety  and  elevation  of  mind  with  which  it  describes 
^em,  are  finely  express^  by  Job  in  the  passage  imme-r 
diately  following  the  relation  of  his  past  life ; 

^  Therefore  I  said  I  shall  die  in  my  nest ; 
«« I  s)iall  multiply  my  days  like  the  sand  ; 
V  My  root  was  ^read  abroad  nigh  the  waurs» 
««  And  the  dew  lay  all  night  on  my  branches : 
<«  My  glory  was  fresh  within  mey 
"  And  my  bow  gained  strength  in  my  hand. 
«<  They  hearkened  to  me,  nay  they  waited  for  me  ; 
«  They  were  silent  also,  they  approved  my  counsel. 
^  After  I  had  spoken  they  replied  not ; 
«  For  my  words  dropped  upon  them : 
'  «  They  waited  also  for  me  as  the  rain  ; 
*^  And  their  mouths  were  open  as  for  the  latter  rain."^ 

To  this  part  of  the  subject,  which  relates  to  the  de^ 
lineation  of  the  passions,  may  be  referred  those  delicate 
touches  which  animate  almost  every  description,  and 
which  are  drawn  from  the  most  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  genuine  emotions  of  the  human  soul.  I  shall  con- 
tent myself  with  one  example  out  of  the  many  which 
the  compass  of  the  work  affords^  It  is  exactly  copied 
from  nature ;  for  when  events  take  place  according  to 
our  ardent  wishes»  but  quite  contrary  to  our  expecta- 
tions, we  have  the  utmost  difficulty  to  believe  them  reaL 
Job  thus  expresses  himself  respecting  God : 

M  If  I  called  upon  him  and  he  should  answer  me, 

^  Yei  could  I  scarcely  believe  that  he  had  heard  my  voice.'^ 

This  is  admirably  expressive  both  of  the  majesty  of 
Qod,  and  of  the  severity  which  he  exercised  towards 
Job ;  it  is  also  no  less  descriptive  of  the  humiliation  andl 
despair  of  the  sufferer. 

<<  If  I  were  merry  with  them  they  would  not  beUe?e  it  :"^> 
Vt  Chap.  zix.ll— 23.  <•  Chap.  is.  16.  »  Chap.  xxiz.  ^4, 


«4  OF  THE  POEM  OF  JOB.  LWV..M. 

wys  Job  of  his  dqwidants ;  in  which  b  expfiesaed  his 
own  digniqr  and  gravity  united  with  urfaanity,  and  at 
the  same  time  their  unvidatedattaobmcQl  to  hinu    Thus 
too,  by  the  same  circumstance  is  depkted  both  the  ar«> 
dour  and  akority  of  the  war^horsei  and  hiacagemeaslbr 
diebatde: 
«« For  ea^rneM  sad  fniy  he  deTOitreth  ths  veiy  groundi 
«<  He  bcUeveih  it  not  when  be  hesreth  the  tranpet 
«  When  the  crnaipet  toundeth,  he  «aithf  shah ! 
»  Yea  he  scentetb  the  battle  from  a&r, 
<<  The  thunder  of  the  chieftains  and  their  shoots/'* 

This  passage,  which  has  indeed  always  attracted  gen- 
eral admiration,  will  also  serve  to  exemplify  the  excel- 
lence of  the  descriptive  parts  of  this  poem :  and  from 
the  same  circumstance  we  may  fairly  conjecture,  that 
the  pictures,  which  are  exhibited  in  other  parts  of  the 
work,  would  appear  no  less  striking  resemblances  of  the 
realities,  were  we  equally  well  acquainted  with  the  orig- 
inals. To  judge  rightly  of  a  description,  we  ought  to 
have  as  clear  and  distina  ideas  of  the  thing  itself  as  the 
author.  The  idea  of  thunder  is  familiar  to  all  mankind ; 
observe,  therefore,  how  it  is  depicted  by  Efihu : 

«  At  this  mj  heart  trembleth, 

M  And  is  ready  to  booad  from  its  place. 

M  Hearken  atteotifelf,  and  tremble  at  bis  voice ; 

««  Even  at  the  sound  that  gocth  out  of  his  moiith. 

M  iu  flash  is  beneath  the  wbol^  hearena, 

«  And  its  blaze  to  the  end  of  the  earth. 

«  After  it  a  voice  roareth  ; 

»  He  thunderetb  with  the  Toice  of  his  majesty : 

M  He  deceiveth  them  not  when  his  voice  is  heard."^^ 

St  Chap,  axxix.  34w  35« 

91  That  U»  ^  They  cannot  aiittake  his  voice  for  uvy  tiikig  heside.* 
Hbath.    Job,  chap.  xzzriL  1—4. 

In  the  last  line  it  seems  as  if  we  should  read  apir  (he  will  not  decerre) 
with  the  Tvis.  and  Snutieaus.  Vw  thi»  correeuun  I  am  indebted  ta  tho 
learned  HicauiD  Gaxr»  who  has  pak^avery  erilicsl  atleatioQ  to  tluspQeas. 


UcT*  94.  QP  TiB  POCM  OP  JOB.  4tf 

It  would  be  superftuou»  to  insial  any  longer  on  a  mi- 
Ittitv  detiul,  sinoe  the  moat  splendid  examples  of  every 
beauty  and  elegance  of  sentiment,  of  imagery,  and  of 
diction,  meet  the  eye  of  the  attentive  reader  in  every 
part  of  the  poem.  Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  the  dignity 
of  the  style  is  answerable  to  that  of  the  subject ;  its  force 
and  energy  to  the  greatness  d  those  passions  which  it 
describes  :  and  as  this  production  exceb  ail  die  other 
remains  of  the  Hebrew  poetry  in  economy  and  arrange* 
mcnt,  so  it  yields  to  none  in  sublimity  of  style,  and  in 
every  grace  and  excellence  of  composition.  Among 
the  principal  of  these  may  be  accounted  the  accurate 
and  perfectly  poetical  conformation  of  the  sentences, 
which  is  indeed  generally  most  observable  in  the  most 
ancient  of  the  poetical  compositions  of  the  Hebrews. 
Here,  however,  as  is  natural  and  proper  in  a  poem  of  so 
great  length  and  sublimity,  the  writer's  skill  is  dbplay- 
ed  in  the  proper  adjustment  of  the  period,  and  in  the 
accurate  distribution  of  the  members,  rather  than  in  the 
antithesis  of  words,  or  in  any  laboured  adaptation  of  the 
parallelisms. 

Having  now  gone  through  the  several  topics,  of 
which  I  purposed  to  treat  in  my  investigation  of  the  na* 

<'  The  true  sense  is  perhaps,  he  dott  it  noi  at  inicrvaU  or  by  Jiu^  L  e^ 
<*  thtmden^  See.  but  emfmualbf  .*  whieh,  amonp  others,  is  the  sense  of  the 
**  word  in  the  Arabic  dklaet.  And  the  ezpoeitjoii  of  R.  Li.  B.  Gbbsbom,  he 
<<  doe*  not  defer^  or  delaif,  af^ree»  very  well  with  thb  opinioD  s  ae  well  ae 
**  our  eommon  Eng^lish  translation,  which  ia  thus  far  preferable  to  that  of 
**  the  VvMATB  and  Stxkacvm,  namely^  that  it  requirea  no  change  of  the 
"  text  This  also,  in  all  probability,  is  the  meaning  of  the  Septuagint  yer- 
**  sion.  Owl  avlcoxeifM  «imif  i  though  this  seems  to  relate  to  the  hearera. 
**  when  in  reality  it  should  relate  to  the  things  heard.    H.    Jkithtr^e  Jfote^ 

**  See  wheUier  the  verb  foheman^J  be  erer  construed  with  beth,  ez« 
**  cept  in  the  sense  obeying^  which  do^  not  agree  with  the  context  m 
'*  this  place.  It  seems  better  theraibre  to  construe  the  verb  with  kolu^  and 
<*  to  render  the  sentence  in  this  maiuier— Aor  hi§  voice  aiteiuivc^,  md 
**  with  tnembUg^,    B. 


496  CNP  THE  POEM  OP  JOB.  Lsct.  S4. 

ture  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  it  is  time  that  tnf  present 
undertaking  should  draw  towards  a  conclosion.  If  in 
the  prosecution  of  my  design,  I  have  by  my  industry 
been  able  to  accomplish  my  thing  that  may  be  deemed 
satisfactory,  it  is  but  common  justice  to  attribute  the 
greatest  part  of  my  success  to  you,  Gentlemen,  who 
have  condescended  to  look  with  a  propitious  eye  upon 
my  endeavours,  and  to  invigorate  my  application  by 
your  attention  and  partialis*  When,  indeed,  I  first 
meditated  this  system  of  instruction,  I  foresaw,  as  well 
from  the  native  sublimity  and  obscurity  of  the  subject, 
a$  from  the  extreme  antiquity  of  the  Hebrew  writings, 
much  subtile  investigation,  much  difficult  explication, 
much  doubtful  assertion,  and  dangerous  error.  I  fore-  ' 
saw  too,  and  daily  experience  confirmed  my  apprehen- 
sions,  that  in  this  maze  of  science,  the  vestiges  and  the 
documents  of  the  learned  would  be  frequently  found 
but  imperfect  guides.  That  my  courage  did  not  utter- 
ly forsake  me  in  the  course  of  my  undertaking,  is  to  be 
attributed  entirely  to  the  favour  and  encouragement 
which  I  received  from  you.  I  had  the  satisfaction  to 
find  my  plan  meet  with  the  approbation  of  some  of  the 
greatest  and  most  eminent  characters  in  the  learned 
world,  as  being  neither  inconsistent  with  the  design  oi 
this  institution,  the  dignity  of  .this  University,  nor  the 
profit  and  utility  of  the  students.  I  had  often  the  sin- 
gular pleasure  of  seeing,  among  my  auditors,  many  per- 
sons, to  whom  it  would  better  become  me  to  ^pply  for 
instruction  in  this  and  in  every  other  branch  of  litera- 
ture ;  and  the  young  men,  for  whose  benefit  this  insti- 
tution was  established,  I  have  found  ever  diligent  and 
constant  in  their  attendance ;  all  which  testimonies  of 
your  favour,  unless  I  accounted  as  obligations,  I  should 
think  either  too  arrogantly  of  myself,  or  too  disrespect- 


fully  of  y€M.  To  all  of  jrou,  theiefbte,  I  ftei;  tad  slnll^ 
for  ever  led  mystlf  obliged:  the  ramembnnce  of  your 
kindDess  wfll,  in  every  vidatttude  of  my  coaditioii,  be: 
pieaaiogtome;  nwis  there  any  danger  of  my  siiffimi^ 
that  to  escape  my  memoiy,  wlych  I  mua^ever  cateenv 
the  great  ornament  of  my  liibb 

But  to  return  to  a  point  which  is  of  more  iattkntanoe» 
and  which  has  indeed  been  the  principal  object  of  all  my^ 
endeavours.  I  should  now  think  myself  called  upon,  in 
the  last  pbce  to  exhort  thb  assembly  of  accomplished 
youths  to  an  asaiduous  qyplieation  to  these  studies ;  but 
that  I  confess  I  think  you  radier  demand  commendation 
than  advice.  For  the  Hebiew  language,  which  was  for 
M  series  of  years  in  a  manner  obsolete  and  neglected,  has 
been  htely  cultivated  by  you  with  such  attention  and 
application,  and  has  obtained  so  respectable  a  place  a- 
mong  the  other  branches  of  erudition,  that  it  seems^ 
through  your  means,  to  have  recovered,  after  a  tedious 
exile»  all  its  former  dignity  and  importance.  Proceed, 
therefixie,  in  the  same  career  with  the  same  ardour  and 
success,  and  consider  it  as  a  work  worthy  of  your  ut- 
most exertions  to  illustrate  and  cultivate  this  department 
of  literature.  You  will  find  it  no  less  elegant  and  agree- 
aUe,  than  useful  and  instructive ;  abounding  in  informa* 
tion  no  less  curious  for  its  extent  and  variety,  than  for 
its  great  imp<Hlance  and  venerable  sanctity ;  deserving 
the  attention  of  every  liberal  mind  ;  essential  to  all  who 
would  be  proficients  intheok>gy :  a  branch  of  literature» 
in  a  word,  which  will  confer  credit  upon  yourselves» 
will  be  an  honour  to  the  university,  and  an  advantage  to 
the  church.  I  congratukite  you,  gentiemen,  on  having 
an  instructer,*  who,  from  his  authority,  example,  assl- 

*  0r.  Thomas  Hukt,  King's  ProftMQr  Qf  Hebitv»  «nd  Itfuiduin  Profte- 
•or  of  tbe  Aimbio  ianguagv. 

63 


4M  or  TOE  POBM  Of  SOW.  Lbc^.  U. 

duiijr,  asMl  infiorciatioiii  w3l  be  footiA  in  no  respect  want» 
mg  to  your  preftt  «nd  aocommodation :  a  gentleman  ho 
kflB  eminent  for  his  abilities  and  prafonnd  eraditiony 
than  for  the  tsandour*  urbanity»  and  gentleness  of  his 
■lanners*  He  will  unfold  to  you  the  iliexhauslible  treas- 
ures of  oriental  literatm^,  he  wW  of)en  to  your  riew  an 
ynboundoft  field  of  science  and  of  ftme«  it  is  soft cient 
fcriDe  to  haiFediscoTered  to  yen  a  few  of  the  moie  dc^ 
lightful  retreats  of  this  paradise  i  and  emild  I  flatter  niy« 
self  thai  my  endeavours  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  d« 
}$iEt  orexdte  any  to  diese  studies,  eir  even  to  sdmuhrte 
and  keep  alive  your  attention  to  this  department  of  lite- 
mture,  I  should  (Unk  Aat  I  had  received  the  most  hon- 
ouraUe,  the  most  gmtefial  reward  of  my  labours. 


BRIEF  CONFUTATiON 

<^^  ■ 

Mshop  Har^s  System  <if  Hebrew  Metre. 

'*    I.'    .  •  . 

It  ia  well  known,  that  an  iifpotbeais  waft  SnTentedf  bf  the  late 
bishop  Hare  concerning  the  Hebrew  metres;  aiid  the  argomenti» 
which  he  had  advanced  in  ila  ftvour,  appeared  %o  conclusive  to 
some  persons  of  great  erudition»  as  to  persuade  them,  that  the 
learned  prelate  had  fortunately  revived  the  knowledge  tif  the  tnio 
Hebrew  versification,  after  an  oblivion  of  fAore  thafi  two  thousand 
years ;  and  that  he  had  established  his  opinion  by  such  irresistible 
proofs,  as  to  place  it  beyond  the  utmost  effotts  of  controversy. 
Whoever,  indeed,  encounters  it  in  such  a  na&neri  aa  only  to  call 
in  question  some  particular  part,  to  iatiosateoiily  an  occasional 
scruple,  or  to  attack  but  one  or  two  of  his  arguments»  will,  doubt« 
less,  M  attempt  in  vain^  to  root  out  of  their  Mitads  .«n  opinion 
<<  which  has  been  so^e^ply  implanted  ai)d.c»(a|}lished  by^^^au- 
«  thority  of  po  gr^at  a  foan :  much  less  will,  fuiy  .jpersoix  P^tjij^ 
<<  credU.wbo  shall  afiirai,  that  he  ))as  discpvcred  what  .:iyas  nqt 
M  discovered  by  the  learned  prelate,  unless  ibj^.j^lie  str^og^st  arg^t 
M  roents  be  not  only  overthrows  the  hypothesis  whifb  j^e»i)ejeci^ 
«  but  confirms  his  own.  Avoiding  therefore  every  sul^terfuge,,| 
<<  shall  CQme  immediately  u>  the  point,  ^qcl  d^i|ioi^trate  by  ^he 
^  clearest  and  most  decisive  instances,  which  is  the  only  method 
«<  of  extorting  assent  from  the  incredulaus,  thai  1 4mm  actvdly 
^  discovered  the  natuse  and  principles  of  this  ^poetry,'*  and  thdse 
directly  contrary  to  the  system  whieh  be  has  adopted.  I  shall,  on 
this  occairion,  make  use  of  the  same  eitample  thAt  bishop  tfaro 
himself  has  chosen ;  which,  when  properly  considered,  will,  I 
think,  sufficiently  explain  and  prove  my  opinion ;  and  at  the  same 
time  effectually  overturn  his  hypothesis. 

t  Sec  Hare's  prcfilicb  to  the  Psslms,  at  the  btgitoaifif. 


mm  CONFUTATION  OF 

P8ALX    CXI. 

loddijav^bec611eb6b,  L 

%  bes6d  JesMm  v^vedfiL 

a  K^doliiii  mayasft  javdh»  iL 

4.  d^nisfan  lec^  chepz6iicm,  i 

6.  veiidkatbtf  f  «iii6deCh  Iknd. 

7.  lec^r  Bsiflfli  lenfphloKhiV;  iv. 

8.  cUuianv)£rachdinjavdh. 

d.  tereph  lifithan  Kre^v,  t. 

lajiicarl^folto  berftba 

12.  Iatli6th  lahto  naclOaaai  gte. 

ISL  oissaai  jad&ir  esD^  amt^Mk;    .    m 

14l  neeiniiiim  c6i  pikdtja^ ; 

U.  acsniSdm  Ifottd  l^yottm»  viO. 

16.  ylautai  bcenfMi  vejisar. 

.     ir.  pedidth  satfcb  kgtea»  ns. 

.  18.  dvali  l^yrl&m  berttba 

1§.  kftdca^iiMfdatiii^;  ic 

**'  '  2}.  fl^el  t6b kc6}  9fȤiiem,  xi. 

'  Prdti/i  ihift  alphabetic  Psalm,  which  is  difided  into  iu  pioper 
Versus  4ccof^n|;  io  the  initial  letters;  and  restored  to  its  proper 
mshibei^  whhoat  atiy  vIolatk>n  bf  the  text,'xritbout  even  anj  cbmnge 
ttfthe  Masbretic  To#els  (except  that  with  bishop  Hare,  I  read 
fitvokj  ak  eanoiis  of  the  Hebrew  metre  are  to  be  collected  and 
ksublished.  '  ;  .' 
I.  Mb  the  first  ptaee'then,  ia  the  Hebrew  poetry  the  feet  are 

t The IbHeWli^ alethe priiwipid nrics  or  enons  of  bialkip  Ba^ 

1.  la  Oebrew  poclQr.sU  the  feet  are  tw^  igdlables. 

2.  Nojc|ptfdui|MMdifttheqD«itity(tftheqrllaUQi. 

,  3.  When  tjbe  i«imb«rof  the  fyUahk»  is  evei^  the  Terse  is  Troduuc^plac* 
ing  the  accent  on  the  first  syllable. 

4.  If  the  nuQibrr  of  syllables  be  odd,  they  are  to  be  accounted  Iambics» 
sad  the  accent  is  to  be  placed  on  the  second  syllable»  in  order  to  presenro 
the  rhythm. 

5.  The  periods  mff^jF^Qoiuiist  of  two  Terssss  ol\ei&  three  or  fimr,  sad 
sometimes  more. 


BISHOP  HAini«  HEBIEW  METRE.  Ml 

Mt^UdiMyllftblet:  for  in  verse  S,  II,  le^^Hm  may»-— €6aoh 
map»— fm  be— are  Dactyls;  in  verse  13,  14,  mavdh^,  neemi— are 
Anapxsu :  contrary  to  the  first  canon  of  bishop  Hare. 
'  II.  Attention  must  always  be  paid  to  the  quantity  of  the  sylla- 
bles, for  the  same  word,  as  oftcm  as  it  occurs,  is  always  of  the 
same  quantity ;  for  instance,  jav6h,  lec61,  are  constantly  Iambics» 
libad  is  always  a  Trochaic,  ma9H^6  aA'  Anapaest ;  l^oiim  b  uni- 
formly an  Amphimaser ;  berliho,  poni^detb,  is  an  Ampbibrachis : 
contrary  to  the  second  canon  of  bishop  Hare. 

III.  The  Terses  are  either  Trochaic,  which  admit  a  Dactyl ; 
or  Iambic»  which  admit  an  Anapaest ;  but  it  by  no  means  follows» 
that  a  verse  is  either  the  one  or  ilie  other»  from  its  consisting  of 
an  even  or  odd  number  of  syllables.  Those  indeed  which  consist 
of  an  even  number  of  syllables»  are,  for  the  most  part,  Iambic,  as 
Terse  1»  3,  7,  13,  14»  15,  30 ;  but  they  are  also  sometimes  Trocha- 
ic» as  verse  3»  4»  10»  18»  31 ;  and  those  which  consist  of  an  odd 
number  of  syllables,  are  mostly  Trochaic»  as  vere  5,  8»  9,  1 1»  16» 
19 ;  they  are  however  sometimes  Iambic»  as  verse  6»  13»  17»  33 ; 
contrary  to  the  third  and  fourth  canon. 

*  IV.  The  verses  of  the  same  period  are  of  diflTerent  kinds,  period 
Si,  iv»  vi,  viii»  ix,  x,  zi»  a  few  only  excepted,  as  period  i,  ii,  v,  vii : 
and  those  which  are  of  the  same  kind  seldom  agree  in  the  number 
of  syllables  and  feet :  for  instance,  in  period  ii.  and  v.  the  first  verse 
is  a  Trochaic  Dimeter  Catalectic,  the  second  a  Trochaic  Dimeter 
Acatalectic ;  in  period  vii.  the  first  is  an  Iambic  Dimeter  Hyper- 
catalectic,  the  second  an  Iambic  Dimeter  Catalectic :  the  only  in- 
«tance  of  verses  agreeing  in  a  kind,  agreeing  also  in  syllables  and 
feet  is  In  period  i.  and  those  are  Iambics :  and  this  is  contrary  to 
the  sixth,  seventh»  and  eighth  canons. 

V.  All  the  period  consists  of  only  two  verses ;  for  properly 
kQfih  and  re*h  constitute  the  penultimate»  and  «Al»  and  tau  the  ul- 
tlmaie  pbriod ;  as  alio  appeared  to  thie  learned  Cappell  ^  this  is 
contrary  to  the  fifth  canon. 

fi.  The  verses  of  the  same  period^  wi^  few  exceptions,  are  of  the  same 
kfaid. 

7.  The  Trochaic  verses  mostly  agree  In  the  «nnber  of  feet :  there  ai« 
however  a  few  exeeptions. 

'  8.  In  the  Iambic  verses  the  feet  aie  mostly  unequal,  thou|;h  in  some  in- 
stances they  axe  eqnaL 

9.  Bach  verse  does  not  contain  a  distinct  sense. 

See  Haxs^i  iP^/ p.  27« 

9  See  Qumt^  Grit  Sac.  lib.  i.  cap.  xil  11. 


sm  CVNfUTATKW  OT 


»  That  wliftl  I  hftT«  «dvanAml  ••  time  «nd  inditpwialil^f  u 
<<  true,  «pptm  from  the  ejcan^et  irhi0ti  I  hMr^  «iMHoed  ;  wid 
M  whoever  reiuki  «MMMiwolgr  ibo  beok  of  niai»i%  will  ted  iimil«r 
^  inmoce»  in  •Imosi  everf  pago/*^ 


^fieeHnc^fl^cfiiee»  p.  31.  The  leader  bM  doubtlfiit  obftrrted*  that  te 
esUbliih  our  two  Uit  cation^  and  pertu^ps  the  other»,  a  general  propontk» 
is  deduced  from  a  particular  instance : '  viz.  so  it  ia  in  this  Paalnif  and  so» 
fherefbre  It  must  be  in  all  Hebrew  poems  wlAtever  r  Hi  iStAs,  how«t«f,  I 
dirty  eopyBMMp  Hires  Ibr  t»  s^f  tha  tMth,  upoa 4Ms  raad* of  «eaaoiArigjt 
ead  bagi^  the  ^ueatiaii  at  the  uaia  tiaM»  depinda  hii  whole  l^paltauL' 

I  And  <haie  obaarvatloBa  have  gieatly  dkplcaaad'Or.  Tvaaua  EawAaa^ 
a  atremiotta  advocate  fior  Biahop  Hare's  Metata.  Towarda  the  copdnsk» 
of  hia  Dissertation  lately  published  be  asserts»  that  J  did  not  understand 
ivhat  I  presumed  to  censure  t  and  to  this  accusation  I  indeed  plead  guilty, 
^or  I  will  freely  conftss.  that  I  neither  dM  understand,  nor  do  t  yet  «n« 
deMtand  What  Aetre  can  exist  without  any  diatnctlon  of  ^aag  and  rimH 
ayUahfea,  or  w^t  ean  be  meaaA  by  IVoehaia,  Inibie»  «id  Anaoroaitlc  iM 
and  veraea,  where  no  regard  is  paid  to  the  quailtily  of  llie  9y\kh\t$k  «tfat 
do  I  undeestaadaay  bett«»  what  purpose  the  conAitatiOii  ofjmg^  hjinjhijaii 
fan  answer,  ainae  I^ve  it  myself  as  futile  and  frke,  mi  ainae  the  ^ttili^ 
of  it  was  one  of  the  strongest  arguallents  against  the  hypothesis  of  Hare. 
Thia  argument  can  only  be  done  away  by  proving,  that  my  hypothesis  ia 
|Mt  founded  npcn  the  same,  or  upcm  principles  equally  dor  and  eeitnn 
wUh  «shop  Hare^t  this  wii»timately  htodeftndar  haa^Oot^doos^  aoain* 
4bk1  en  ha  4a. 

With  vtgard  to  hia  aacasatioog  ^at  I  haiMe  aelad  dagnaiioal]9b  and  «hf^ 
IhayeafMmmy  own  authority,  and  intboatai^  regard  to  ae^o  aAraned,  thait 
die  hypothesis  of  Bishop  Hare  depends  altogether  upon  his  taking  iqr 
granted  the  very  point  to  be  proved  ;  in  order  to  exonerate  myself  fitim  aa 
invtdioua  an  imputation,  and  in  order  to  cott6rmwhat  I  before  had  advanc* 
ad,  I  mnvt  requeat  the  reader's  attentkm  to  the  foUowingpartknlars.  * 

Thecsiidi^Mlmiapnipoaedaa  an  euttpie,  and  ia  divided  falo  wmm^ 
■Phcnoe  ike  Uwa  of  ikteew  vwsiieatlsii  «le  to  he  dadueel  Wa«  gn«t 
that  in  diis  Psalm  the  verses  are  rightly  distiaguialied,  «hice  it  ia  alphabaiW 
ical,  and  tlia  members  of  each  period  are  nearly  equal.  But  what  is  this 
|o  the  astaWishmsnt  of  a  oeftam  wda  for  the  division  of  otheia,  wfaiphare 
neither  alphabetical,  nor  seem  capable  of  a  regular  and  equal  distributioi 
of  the  sautenQai  and  awaibers  #  Indaa^»  toah  ia  the  diiiaqlly  of  Bishop 
Hare's  hypothesis  in  this  respect,  that  accordi^f  to  it  a  number  of  th^ 
fsahns  «ra  divided,  not  on^  arbitaarily  and  oddly,  but  inal^antly^.h|jiip 
diciously,  contrary  to  the  genius  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  and  coutracy  to 
^ery  appearance  of  truth.  Wa  will  take  for  an  exaaqile  the  fisst  Bsakn» 
fn  which  the  frathof  peWea  hinaelf  not  a  little.    But  whan  «Kidded  hi^ 


BISHOP  tthW»»  HEBll&W  METRE.  SOi 

Bijice'aitistlie  osse,  tiiiee  I  hkie  deduced  happilf  the  Abatrosd 
prineipitt  of  the  Hebtew  lActre  fh>m  this  pBtlm,  or  mher  ex<* 

Vefs^,  by  Whai  fole  is  it  accented  f  Why  in  this  rather  than  any  other 
lAttfi^r  f  ftow  to  it  ftrored,  thtt  nik^fi  the  number  of  tyllabl^  to  «vcsi,  the 
^^et^  to  «reehnle»  irtufen  odd,  tottbkP?'  fyom  the  natiitv  and  prine^lea  ef 
tlQohaio  «id.iambk  tstm  ?  Pf  no  mtaaa  >  (fcr  in  the  GfMk  and  Ukti»  tfo«> 
ohaUw  .ud.  Hflil^tolb  |h«.  €iwi  in  dtoi0%  contrary)  hut  aeielj»  Itqa  thft 
pleaauro  aB4  wiU  of  th«  author^    Why  tjiea  n^y  not  I,  or  any  other  .peraon^ 
aftz  diftereni  accents  to  this  cxith  or  ai^  Psalo)»  and  so  tun  the  trochuc^ 
«f  ^tohop  Hve  inio  iambics,  and  his  iambics  Into  trochiucs  ?  By  what  ruin 
too  are  the  syUahks  mimbeted  f  According  to  the  lifasoretic  punctuation  f  By 
no  meAttii  Of  the  Ifaaotetic  number  of  syilahles  to  altered,  and  that,  as 
bgr  afeeviDttnfnka»  or  aeeordinf  to  aA  e^taMirfied  tj^Mem  of  uelw»  niueh 
«sitted  bf^^trethe  punctuation»  ia  froaa  thto  Plate  a^ofderad  §fid  illa*i 
Vnted,  the  rules  of  metre  aie  aftar^^rdi  to  be  c<dkcted*    **  But  I  do  nei^ 
^  desert  the  Masoietic  punctuation,  unless  an  erroneous  punctuation  inter<i 
'*  feres  with  the  metre/'    This  vould  be  a  sound  argument,  if  it  were  pre- 
^iMisly  determined  what  these  rules  of  metre  were.    But  (br  what  good 
leason  SM  all  trisyllabic  meirei  exclude  At>m  the  Hebrew  poetry?  ^  Be* 
*f  eatlse  tndyi  if  the  trtoyllihic  feet  were  admitted,  a  distinetion  of  long 
«iwl  short  ^yilahleewonld  hare  plaee  necessarily  iAtha  Hebrew  poetry.^- 
ladwbyehoiihiiiiiet  ?  *<In  Hebrew  poetry  these  to  no  Mepeot  at  all  tia 
•*  the  quantity  of  tho  syUablas.'*    A  most  extnovdinivy  aasortioi^  and 
scarcely  credible !  But  that  so  it  might  be^  learn  from  the  testimony  of 
your  eyes  and  ears.    *<  For  from  thto  Psalm  it  to  evident,  that  no  regard  i^, 
**  paid  to  quantity  in  the  Hebrew  poetry ;  shice  in  the  fourth  and  fif^b 
**  tetaes,  not  to  mention  other  instances,  the  le  and  ve  are  long.    OA  the 
•  *<  ««hat  hand»  i»  the  ifleenth  and  twenty-'Secaiid,  aw  hi  femuehn  $gyi  kU  ht 
**  tehmaOwy  are  short.**    That  to,  according  to  Haie,  the  shortest  ^ftkhle 
may  be  made  use  of  instead  of  the  longest  (such  mdeed  he  acknowledges 
them  to  be)  in  hto  Trochaic  and  Iambic  measures ;  and  on  the  other  hand^ 
the  longest  may  be  introduced  instead  of  the  ahortest :  of  which  this  Pudn 
affords  the  precedent :   and  en  the  authority  of  thto  precedent,  a  law  ia 
framed  to  serve  in  ail  other  cases  :  and  when  we  aak,  upon  other  evidence, 
the  reason  of  the  fact»  he  refers  us  to  hto  own  authority  and  hto  own  exam- 
ple.   For,  indeed,  aays  he,  thto  to  the  plain  state  of  the  case ;  *'  that  this» 
^  and  all  that  I  have  urged  upon  thia  subject,  to  undoubtedly  fiict,  to  plain 
'<  from  the  ezaaqilea  whichlhave  produced:  and  must  strike eveiy  reaaon- 
^  able  person  who  only  looks  into  a  single  page  of  the  book  of  Psakns."    I 
confess  it,  indeed,  most  learned  Prelate,  if  we  look  into  your  Psalms :  but 
I  fear  we  shaU  then  be  very  little  nearer  the  truth  ;  since  itto  by  no  means 
a  decided  point,  that  your  Psalms  are  rightly  and  judicjoualy  divided  into 
Terscs,  feet,  and  sylUbles. 

See  "  A  larger  ConfuUtion  of  Btohop  Hare*s  Hebrew  Metres»  in  a  Letter 
*<  to  Dr.  Bdwards,  London,  1764.'»    «JulAw^s  JVWe. 


>5M  CONFUTATION,  fc«. 

jduned  clearly  such  as  readily  presented  themsdves»  and  have 
reduced  them  to  an  art  easy»  perfect»  and  consistent ;  depending^ 
upon  principles  certain  and  self-evident :  but  not  taking  those 
Uberties  in  which  Bishop  Hare  has  prolialj  indulged  himself  so 
as  to  make  the  same  word  sometimes  Trochaic,  sometimes  Iam- 
bic, sometimes  a  Dissy  liable,  and  sometimes  a  Trisyllable ;  I  may- 
feasooably  indulge  myself  in  the  hope,  that  the  candid  reader  will 
prefer  my  hypotheus  to  that  of  Bishop  Have.  Thb  at  least  I  trust 
I  may  expect,  that  he  will  treat  them  upon  equal  terms,  and  allow 
Id  each  the  same  authotityi  that  is— nonb  at  all. 

In  the  same  manner  every  hypothesis,  which  pretends  to  define 
the  laws  of  Hebrew  metre,  and  to  prescribe  the  numbers,  the  feet, 
the  scanning  of  the  lines,  may,  I  think,  be  easily  overset:  Csr  to 
that  hypothesb  another  directly  contrary,  yet  confirmed  by  argu- 
ments equally  fi>rcible,  may,  I  am  persuaded,  be  successfaUy  op- 
posed. 

With  regard  to  the  opinion  of  those  who  suppose  the  whole  art 
of  Hebrew  metre  to  consist  in  a  similarity  of  termination  to  each 
verse  ;  though  it  has  acquired  some  popularity  and  autherity  in 
the  learned  world,  I  think  it  by  far  the  most  ill4bunded  of  ail ; 
and  I  think  ito  absurdity  so  obvious,  that  with  the  utmost  ease  it 
may  be  detected.  Since  the  endings  of  the  verses  are  defined  in 
some  of  the  alphabetical  poems,  and  since  it  b  manifest,  that  in 
these  the  verses  do  not  end  alike,  that  no  art  or  attention  has  been 
bestowed  upon  that  point,  it  follows  of  course  that  the  art  of  He- 
brew versification  does  not  consbt  in  making  verses  with  similar 
endings.. 


APPENDIX, 

Referred  to  from  page  357. 

PSALM  CXXXV. 
imASia,  or  Prehtdg.    "Part  1. 
Sigh  Priest  and  Priests,  to  the  LevHet  s 

Praiaeye  Jak/ 
Leritety  to  the  Priette : 

JPnUte ye  the  nnfitf  Jehenahi 
Priests  and  Lerites,  to  the  Gongr^tioa  *. 
PraUe  Mm,  O  ye  eervante  ^f  Jehawth  / 
The  Congregation,  to  the  Priests : 

Te,  thai  ttand  in  the  home  ofJehevah  / 
The  Ckmg^regation,  to  the  Levites : 
Jm  the  cewrte  e/the  heme  efeur  Oedf 

UVQAXMA.    2. 
Priests,  to  the  l«Tites : 

PraUe  ye  Jah,  fir  Jehovah  i$  good  ! 
Lerites,  to  the  Congiegitidn : 

9kig  praieee  wUe  hie  nameffir  it  ie  pUaemiK 
Gongregfttion,  joining  both  Priests  and  Levites : 

Fer  Jah  hath  eheeen  Jaeoh  unie  himeeif, 

leraelfir  hie  peeuMar  treaeure. 

HTMK. 
High  Priest,  Ibttowed  by  the  Priests ;. 

Fer  Iknem  that  Jehmfoh  ie  greatp 

Even  eut  herd abeve  eMgede.- 
Levites: 

Whateoever  Jehevah  pleaeed, 

Be  did  in  heaven,  and  in  earth, 

Mn  the  eeae,  and  in  deepplacee  .- 
Congregation: 

Be  caueeth  the  vapeure  te  rieefiem  the  ende  eft^tt  eartfi,^ 

Be  maketh  Ughtmngefir  the  rain  .• 

Be  bHngeth  the  wind  eu$  ^fhie  treaewiee. 
'High  Priest,  accompanied  by  the  Priests : 

flTho  emote  the  Jiret-hom  of  JBgypt, 

Both  of  man  ^f  beaet. 
Levites: 

Sent  tokene  andwendere  ifUe  the  midet  of  thee,  0  Mgypt  / 
Congregation: 

ITpon  Pharaoh,  and  i^on  aU  hie  eeroanie. 
High  Priest  and  Priests : 

Who  emote  great  natiene,  and  eUrm  mighty  kings  j 

64 


Mf  APPENDIX. 

Levitei: 

&'A«fi»  king  9/ the  Amoriteg, 

And  Og^t  king  o/Miuan^ 

And  aU  the  kingdom  tf  CaHoatL 
ikNigregaUon : 

And  he  gone  theif  iandan  heHiage^ 

Ah  heritage  with  lurttaUfpeepk^ 
Priests: 

7^  name^  O  Jehevah,  endwreth/er  sver. 
Lerites: 

Thjf  memerUd,  O  Jehovoh,  threugkmt  aU  genifatien^ 
Priests,  Lerltesy  and  6oogq^tipn  in  lull  chonii : 

Fer  Jehevah  wiUjutfge  hie  peepk  /     , 

And-wi&r^eiu  him  cemceming  hie  eenonte. 

II. 
High  Priest»  accompsnied  by  the  Priests : 

The  ideie  ^the  Meathem   Hihter  tmdgeldi 

The  werk  ^mertal  hande, 
Levites: 

7%ey  hmte  «Miillt»  hut  they  epepk  net  $ 

Eyee  home  tfoy,  kmi  they  eeenei. 
Congregation: 

Thejf  have  earef  hni  lAigp  hear  net  .- 

Jfeither  ie  there  oagr  truth  m  their  meektk%^ 
Meats,  Leritesy  and  Congregation  in  full  cfaofiis : 

They  that  make  them  are  Uke  wtte  themt 

Every  ene  thaitrueteth  in  theei. 

A9W^flfia^4f* 

Hi|^  Priest  and  Prieats,  to  the  Congregation: 

Mleee  Jehevah^  O  heuee  rfleraelf 
Congregation^  to  the  high  Priest  and  fticals : 

EleeeJehevahf  0  heuee  ^Aaren/     * 
High  Priest  and  Priests,  to  the  Levites : 

Bkee  Jehm>aK  O  h^uee  ^  Levi  / 
Lerites,  to  high  Prieat  and  Prtests : 

Te  that  fear  Jehovah,  hteoe  Jehevah  f 
Priests,  Lerites,  and  Congregation,  in  ftill  diofli»< 

Bleeeed  be  Jehevah  out  of  Sion, 

WhedmotteihinJerueaXemi 
Pull  chorus,  continuing  each  dlTision  to  both  the  rest  r 

FtaUe  ye  Jah  /    . 

The  praising  the  name  Jbhotab,  ao  often  mentioned  in  Scripture  ariaes 
from  the  answer  to  the  question  of  Moaes.    Eju»«  iii.  13.    S.  H. 


INDEX 


TO     THB     PAUAOBS    OV    THB     OLD    TEBTAMEMT»    WHICH     AHB 
OITBD9   BXPLAIHBD   OB   RBYBBBBD    TO    IB   THB    LBCTUBBt. 

f 

The  letter  a,  prefixed  to  the  page»  refien  to  a  note. 


GENESIS. 


k3 

■  5 


^^5 
420 
1141 
ii58 
58 


iK.B5 Sr      e0,349 

dr  11306 

sir.  6  n  446 

xn.  31  n  59 

szi.  6,  r     '  n  62 

zziii.  99 

zziT.  2  n  51 

60  n6d 

XXT.  2,  3  n  447 

6  n447 

15  and  18  n  446 

23  ^62 

nvil  27 ^29  60 

39, 40  60 

zxWiL  16, 17  n  62 

zxiz.  27  n  419 

ion.  39  B  41 

XXX1I 10, 11  n  447 
20  and  28  n  446 

xlri  32 ^34  437 

xliz.2 ^27n  60,249 

^16andl9&206 

9  134 

11  n41 

21  n  389 

EXODUa 

ii.  15  n  447 

18  n  428 

ill.  1.  n  447 

Tiii.  14  n  262 

ix.  8  n  121 

XT.  1 ^21  386 

1  B329 

5  n41 

6  271 
9,10  234 
11, 12  232 
SO,  21  ^54 


xix.  16  and  18  n  m 

XX.  7  n  382 

xxiii  5  n  55 

17  n382 

31  n42 

xxri.  7,  &e.  n  112 

36  110 

xxvii.  16  110 

xxTiiL  2  108 

39  110 

xxxiL  6  and  19  n  86 

18  258 
XXXV.  30—^5  110 
xL34 38  nlll 

LBvmctrs. 

x?L  2  n  111 

xix.  S3  n  136 

xxiii.  24  369 

XXT.  9, 10  369 

13 ^16  n  91 

23, 24  n  91 

NUMBEB6* 

vL7  n  59 

ix.  15, 16  n  111 

X.35  b385 

xii.  6—8  B  63 

xiiL29  n447 

XXL  14,  15  61 

17  358 

27  50 

27 — 30  .  ad 

x»i.  32  and  34  n  236 

xxiii,  xxiT.      n  50,  62, 

250^280, 

xxiiL  1,  &c.  n  451 

7 10  187 

19  220 
xxiv.  3  n  40 

5 9  287 

6         n  119, 161 

17  nSO 

xxix.  1  369 

xxxiT.  3  n  447 


DEUTERQirOMY. 
Pag» 
iL12  b446 

ir.  11,  13  n  13» 

TiiL  7  83 

X.  14i 15  381 

xi.  10, 11  as 

xxir.  15  »381 

XXTlii^^r-XXXl        280 

Xxriii.  2,  te.       n  363 
XXX.  11, 12, 13     n  laa 

xxxi.  19 ^21        349 

xxxiL      200,  233,  243, 
343,  249,  391 

I  178,  n380 
3  n  167,171, 271 
5  301 
Sf6  301 
10  309 

II  173,311 
15  300 
33,24  n293 
40—42  234 
42                 264 

xxixiiL  251 

2,3  n43 

31  n46 

JOSHUA, 
ill  15  83 

X.  12, 13  n  329 

27  99 

xv.  land  21        n44r 

21  and  41       n44S 

JUDGES. 

ii.  1  n213 

iii;ai  n91 

V.  233,  385,  392 

1  n329 

38 30  180 

29  810 

▼L3  n44r 

U  n91 

a,  7 Vi  141 

xiv.  11  418 


sot 


IIIOSX  TO  THX  PASfAOSt. 


It 
U 
18 

sv.  16 
zxi.  25 


366 
11366 

363 
n  213 


RUTH. 

iL  4  n  170 

m.3,4  n  43 

IT.  5  n  43 

I.  SABfUEL. 

it  4 7  96r 

is.  3  n  91 

z.  5 10  345 

Sl^5  n91 

Xhr.  30  and  44  n  365 

ST.  7 .  A  448 

32.23  351 

3IW.  13  B  430 

Jtwii.  44  393 

XTtii.  7  255 

lu.  13  «id  16  n439 

30 ^34  348 

tXfT.  14  n  51 

20  n60 

13  343 

zxvii.  8  and  10  n  447 

n.  SAMUEL. 

i  17 ^37  329 

18  SI  183 

19 ^37  333 

33  n330 

111.  33,  34  313 

¥i.  n  880 

Vii.  6.  n  91 

^iu  13  II384 

kii.  1—4  141 

3  210 

31  n  212 

%ri.  7,  8  n  327 

XTu.  11, 13  n  136 

26,  27  n  327.  n  361 
iCTiii.9,10andl4  n389 

X)X.  4  313 

xxi.  1  n  38S 

xzii.  13.  14  133 

xxiiL  1 7  251 

I.  KINGS. 

\r.  30  «II 447 

31  n53 

yiii.  10. 11  n  111 

xui.  SO  313 

six.  19,  30  B  91 

^i.  3  »91 

6  n  313 

tail  19 ^33  452 

48  b59 


n.  KINGS. 

ill.  15  348 

IT.  33  n  4t 

ziu.  31  99 

30  183,313 

XTiii.'34  n  60 

xiz.  31 34  351 

xxi.  13  9^ 

xxiii.  11  n  138 

I.  CHRONICUSS. 

i.  $8  and  43  n  446 

ii.  6  n53 

Xi.  8  n  313 

xit.  15  83 

XT.  b380 

33aBd3r         347 

XTi.  31  178 

xxiu.  5  354 

xxT.  1 3  346 

1 r  354 

xxriii.  18  113 

IL  CHBONICLES. 

ili.  1  94 
Till,  3        »411.434 

8,9  B  435 

14  383 

XTi.  14  99 

xxlx.  30  354 

xxxT.  35  333 

EZRA. 
Hi.  10, 11       403 
11         354 

Til  9  363 

NEHEBfUH. 
ix.  11  n  41 

xil34^31.38«iML40354 

JOB. 
See      B  137,  343,  334 
417.445 
Aaalytb  of  the  Book 

459 

I  and  ii.  193,  453 

i.  6,  h:  452 

22  460 

ILl,  &c  452 

10  460 

ill  193,334^483 

3  193 

4 r  195 

7  196 

10  197 

14  108 

17  367 

30—34  197 

IT.  3.  B  43,  B  488 

T.  ;9.  389 

ti.  324 


8,3,4,8,and9    33S 

15 — ^30  84^180,172 

19  B448 

36  48» 

Til.  334 

30  483 

Tiii.3  488 

3  488 

ix.  18  48S 

35,86  130 

X.  334 

xi.  3,  3  488 

7 9  318 

16 ^18  130 

xiT.  334 

1 3  Mid  6     403 

XT.  4  488 

10  B458 

335 

B51 

394 
483 

lOB 
489 
487 
11« 

334 
493 
493 
489 
b455 

B« 

B463 

b451 

b41 

b84 

B468 

Bl38 

b48 

nll8 

b50 

484 

30  84 

33  b41 

xxTiiL  33  175 

xxix.  334 

1  b50 

7 10  485 

'    11 13  485 

14,16aBdl7    488 

18 33  493 

33,  33  a  167 

34  493 

XXX.  334^8  458 

axxi.3— -4  488 

10  n43 

13 ^15        488 

38  b4$8 


XTi.  9 14 

30 

XTlL 

8,9 

16 

XTiii3— ^ 

8.9 

13 

XIX. 

3,3 
31,33 
XX.  3, 3 

10 

33 


19 

xxu.  3 

11 

XXIT. 

18—- 

22 
XXTi.  13 
XXTlL  1 


-31 


TO  rmm  wammjmmm 


§M 


% 


.464 

nl35 

6— zzxvii.  464^  &c. 

489 

15,  16  449 

.3  464 

18  103 

.2         11135»  464 

4  465 

SXXinLl— -4         494 

sxKviii.— ^.        466 

-11      217 

17  102 

35  IfB 

24^85  494 

Mk^xM  428 

id.8  464 

'     «135 

10 ^14  221 

x1l2,  3  466 

19  178 

xliL  7— ir  452 

8  451 

PSALMS. 

8m    63,242,324^333, 

343,  402, 407, 

n414 

iL  150 

3, 4b  5  n  41 

6  270 

iv.  8  n  135 

iiE.  U  102 

sL  6.  120 

r  n41 

xvi.  2  n  367 

xni.  7  .     n  270 

anriu.l  n  329, 358 

7 14  123 

10  128 

13,  14  120 

16  124 

48  n317 

six.  376 

8 11  268 

sauL3and8  n  261, 272 
13  85 

17 ^19         153 

aodu.  n  131,  359 

xsiT.  380, 415 

5  n362 

4b6,aBd9     0382 

XMW.  39 

1  n381 

13  n272 

szviLS  n382 

XXviiL  X  102 

VPX.  11388 


*4 

9  II389 

U.15  n3€7 

iL  3  fti  270 

iL9  216 

16,14  264 

14  B264 

n39 

6,7  218 

zsanrii.  n  39,  318 

xxxviiL  108  n  385 

xlL  n385 

zliL  325 

n  327,  358 

8  84 

zliiL  828 

xlT.  431 

1  417 

15  418 

zItL  2,  6  n  89 

zlvL  6  and  10  269 

xlvii.  4  n  317 

zliz.  5.  n  50 

L  379 

10  b4I 

Iz.  n384 

lzill2  269 

bull.  359 

Ixv.              n  128,  360 

7  109 

IzTii.  1  n  46 

IzTiii.  401 

17  128 

31  85 

Iziz.  16  102 

22  153 

Izxii.  15^,  361 

IzjcriL  374 

It  365 

16  178 

18,19  268 

IzzriiL  401 

2  n50 

38  and  40     209 

48  11392 

59  223 

61  n  382 

65  223 

69  n  113 

72,  73  n  91 

hoax.  2  n  41 

box.  359 

9, 12  and  14     210 

9 18  143 

18  143 

Izzzl.  «  369 

IssaOii.  14  and  16      93 

9  n384 


^•8« 

15—^5.     171 

Izxxv.  11  175* 

Ixzxri.  4  n  381 

Izzzviii.  1  354 

7  102 

LuLxiz.8  n41 

ze.  8  n]29 

sci.  364 

l,2,3,5a]id6  n365 

9  n366 

MIL  359 

8  84 

13  m 
zeiiL  1  109 

3,4  268 

zciv.  landd  262 

9  341 

,cri.lO 13  178,233 

zcvii.  1  263 

SLoTiiik  7,  8  178 

7—9  233,128 

zciz.  1  232 

ci.  5  n  41 

cii.  8  n  279 

3  n414 

ciii.  3      '  5  n  4$ 

civ.  487,  &e. 

1 5  n  41 

3, 4  n  128 

11  n4l 

14  n  138 
20  n41 

CT.  403 

4  n382 

20  263 

CTL  408 

13  n428 

evil.  404»  &c. 

ciz.  13  n  188 

ex.  3  135,  n  15Q 

cxi.  n  39 

cxii.  n39 

cxiii,  5,  6  265 

cxiv.  260 

8.  n4l 

cxtL  1,  9, 1%  14»  15, 

18  n270 

7  and  19  n  43 

12  n43 

odx.  n  39 

cxx,— — cxzzir.    n  362 

cxxi.  416 

cxxyiiL  1,  2  n  365 

cxxix.  1,  2  262 

6— —8  170 

cxxx.  20  S7i 

n382 

cxxziLS  n  389 


fia 


iraax-vo  «w 


13  M 

u. 


csxxrii.  9 
3 
7 
9 

9 

15 

ir 

«iL7 

cadi.  7 

citii.  6 

•iluL  8 

cslir.  2 

cxlrii.  7 
5 


15  n; 

363 

163 

a  170 

n357 

B2S5 

834^403 

n270 

d4S 


-Id 


n373 

318 

11137 

109 

n59 

B3G7 

102 

»367 

n381 

n317 

a  39 

358 

35i 

216 


PROVBBBS. 


ECCLESIA6TES. 

8ce  342n343 

li.  1  n  138 

9U.3— — 6  136 

n  33S 


TheSonrof 

SOLOMON.  Fittft 

8m             77»  140«  :i4^ 

IS  366 

7»  8  437 

9  4V^ 

U.6  420 

7  430 

10 ^13  488 

iiLl  490 

4  B436 

5  490 

6  430 
7 10  417 

it.  1 5  168p  439 

11  423 

10, 11  439 

T.  432 

1  417 

3  430 

11 14  443 

15  84 

▼i.  4  n  439 

10  420, 433 

viL2aiid4  168 
5               84^0439 

▼lit.  1  435 

3  438 

4  430 

5  430^481 
6,7  433 
13  417 

ISAIAH. 

See    376,  &c.  388»  394 

i.  3  178,  380 

5,  6  and  16  107 

30  n41 

ii.  7       '  965 

iT.  5  n  111 

V.  1 7  139, 144 

7  n306 

14  103,175 

24  n  171 

▼i.3  357 

viL2  167 

15  nl53 

ix.  8— X.  4  406 

X.  10  n  135 

14  157 

18  85 

38 33  306 

34  85 

XL  13  85 

14  11447 

xiiL  6  n  306 

6 13  388 

xiT.4 ^37  103,181 

396 

4  a43,50 


9  and  18  t08 
15  103 
19  103 
36,87  330 

»r.  1  363 

xrii»  13»  13  163 

13  9S 

zxi.3  b59 

10  9i 
xxiL16  99 
gtxJT.landlS  90130 

17  n905 

93  83 

xxr.  6^  7  B  88 

17  b88 

xxvjI.  7  n  306 

xxriiL  17  137 

35 ^39  137 

xxix.  16  B  60 

XZS.36  81 

xxxL4  364 

n336 

noon.  1  a  306 

9  85 

18r-p^30  n89 

B  134^381 

3and4  b  89 

4  iia 

6^7  n393 

8 ^10  131 

11  ai8 

14  Alls 

16  n383 
280,  B  284 

8  85 

xxx?iL33 35     351 

24  85 

xxxviii.  10-  103 

14  363 

xlw*— Ixiri.  399 

xl.  13  and  36  317 

33  nll9 

xU.  15, 16  93 

xlu.  5  B  119 

xHiL3  369 

16—19  133 

XliT.  15  B  41 

34      .  n  119 

xbr.  13  n  119. 

8  nl68 

xhriL  1,  kc.  177 

xhriil.  31  B  133 

xlix.7  363 

14k  15  158 

27  n48fr 

34  Bl36 

li  a  B  U9. 


VAMAOSB. 


411 


.  9 

»399 

•.10 

nl22 

-v.^^^^ 

118 

filLl s 

261 

4 

11261 

8 

■  41 

11 

n59 

lir.5 

265,428 

r,8 

26^ 

It.  10, 11 

166 

U19 

n4l 

iTU.  3  - 

nl03 

6 

n206 

lx.1 

263 

1 3 

260 

3  and  19 

nlll 

6 

WkUr 

19,20 

82 

bd.3 

206 

10 

109 

lxii.5 

429 

iziii.  1 

n283 

1 S 

95 

1—6 

415 

4 6 

234 

Ixhr.6 

lor 

IXT.  11, 12 

11206 

13,14 

267 

JEREMIAH. 

See  194^  290,294 

ill  1,  &C 

429 

iir.r 

n  85 

19,  Sec. 

238 

23 ^26 

iir 

26 

85 

▼L29 

nl21 

is. 

291 

17 28 

11183 

atllS 

n43 

xiiL21 

1141 

m.  17,  See. 

291 

ZTiii.  15 

381 

zz.14,15 

194 

14 18 

291 

asiL6ttid  28 

85 

nl83 

18 

312 

23 

A  41 

2r 

381 

Xtiii.  9 

248 

XXT.20 

B44r 

23 

n448 

15 ^26 

282 

30 

323 

xn.  21 

n428 

UXL31 

n41 

35 

nll8 

XlTi^— 1 

a4(ir 

xlvii.  6,  7  178 

xlvuL2  A  306 

45, 46  n  61 

xla.7  447 

11447 

7,  9  and  10  397 

7Mid30  11447 

8  n44r 

14~-.16  297 

16  1141 

19  n85 
28  n447 

IL  13  B  41 

33  93 

35  n59 

liL  11291 

LAMENTATIONS. 

Set         n  39,  316-320 

L  1,  2  and  17  178 

7  316 

8,  9  and  17  107 

12  and  16  321 

31:  330 

it  3  107 

4  335 

19  318 

lit  13  178 

14  n  317 

14  and  66  a  181 
53  99 

m3  A  43 

15  n318 
21                   A  446 

BZEKIEL. 

See  275,276,291,294 
liL  14, 15  248 

▼iL6  n206 

sir.  14  and  20  a  456 
XT.  139 

xtL         n  41»  140,  430 

10, 13  and  18  A 110 
Six.  323 

1 JQ  140 

10 14  139 

XXL31  Al20,Al67 
xxiiL  140, 436 

xxiT.  3—43  141 

25  381 

SXT.  13  B447 

12  A  282 

xxTLl2aAdl8      a  43 

20  103 
xxviL                      323 

3  A  41 

XXfiikIS  389 


i3*~i9    m 

17 ^20      393 

XXIX.  19  A  43 

85, 140, 145 

10  A 140 

11  aAd  14-17 145 
13—15  A  393 
14—18  98 

333 

3  a86 

7,8  83 

18  98 

18 ^33  102 

19,  See.  103 

33  103 

xxxiT.  18, 19  A  86 

xxxT.  15  m  382 

xxrvil7  107 

xxxniL  12,  13  a  43 

17,30  ^i93 

'     18  85 


DANIEL. 

See  375,297 

Tu.  19  A  86 

28  348 

X.8  348 

xi.4  188 

xiL3  a363 

H08BA. 

See  394 

ii.  15  358 

Ti.  1,  3  364 

ix.15  A  306 

xL  8,  9  363 

xui.  7,  8  334 

XiT.  6 8  161 

6,7  368 

50BL. 

See  395 

i.  395 

6,  7  aAd  10  206 

11.  307, 395 

iu.14  93 

15, 16  118 

18  A  89 

IT.  19  A  59 

AMOSI. 

See  396 

i.1  A  91 

3,  See.  269 

11  A  283 

11,13  A  447 

ii.9  161 

iT.  1  85 

3  A  188 

T.  1,  3  183,  314 


5U 


IKBKX  TO  T9M  MttAU». 


5 

15 
vii.  H  15 
TuL  8 


n806 

ia3,  314 

1191 

n348 


(ttAIXIAH. 
See  297 

1 9  297 

3  n36r 

a  n  447,  449 

^9  n44r 

JONAa 

See  874^397 

KICAH. 
See  296 

i%4  123 

10 ^15  n  206 


U.4 

6 

ill  12 

ir.  13 

▼i.1 


16 
Til.  IS 


n50 

nl67 

a  43»  n  171 

93 

II136 

178 

250 

181 

85 


SflC 


NAHUM. 


S96 


12 
11 
ill  12 


HABAKKUK. 


See 
ii.9 
iiL 


3 

5 

8 

10 

12 

16 


376,297 

367 

394 

348,  n  394 

11175 

nl28 

178 

93 

248 


ZEPHANIAH. 

See  297 

ii.4  n  206 

U  B4i 


See 


HAG6AL 


3 


n438 
157 


Page 


BIALACHL 

See  297 

1. 3, 4  n  283 

ECCLESIASTICUS. 

See  343 

l35  63 

▼1.35  63 

anriii  29  6B 

niv.  345, 849 

36  83 

37  348 
XMXul  15  64 
xn'iiL.  1-— «d  n63 
»!*▼.  4  B  53 
3dix.  8  nils 
1. 5 ^13  n  108 


WISDOIC 


397    TiiiS 


345 


ZECHABUa 
Sec  297 

ii.  5  B  111 

«5  264 

xLl  85 


BARUGH. 
iii.  22,23  449 

I.  BIA6CABEES. 
ciiL20  b103 


INDEX 

09  MSMAEKABM  CIRCUMSTANCBS  NOTICBD  IK  TOfi 
LECTURES  AND  NOTES. 


JiCMOSTIC,  or  Alphabetiod  Poct- 
ly,  still  preTuls  among^  the  Syr- 
ians, Persians,  and  Arabs,  318. 
Tbis  art  too  minute  to  be  {general- 
ly consistent  with  true  genius,  318. 

Jlfe^nit,  a  spirited  anertor  of  liberty 
both  by  his  sword  and  his  lyre,  16. 

Me^r^rieak  one  of  the  first  modes  of 
composition  adopted  by  natioM  e- 
merginff  from  barbari^,  133.  n. 

JBluntfij  Comparison,  and  Simile,  dis- 
tinctions observed  by  critics  in  tbm 
use  of  these  words,  155. 

Amafanitu,  works  of,  8. 

jimo9,  his  exoeUenoe  as  a  propliet, 
996. 

JbionuiUeit  instances  of  in  the  Hebrew 
language»  40.  n. 

Jip^Uo^  Pythian,  a  very  indifferent 
poet,  298. 

Ap9thegm9,  used  by  the  Orientals 
when  they  would  reprove  pride  and 
arrogance,  489. 

Jt'giUoB,  subterraneous  caverns  in- 
habited by  the  Cimmerians,  100.  n. 

JirUt9tle*9  definition  of  POe^  com- 
pared with  History,  13. 

witcefMtofw,   Odes  of  the,  362.  n. 
When  sung,  ib. 

AzarioM,  a  Jewish  Rabbi,  his  opinion 
of  the  confi>rmat]on  of  the  Hebrew 
sentences,  270. 
B. 

JSalaam^  character  of  his  prophecies, 
280. 

JKldad,   the  friend  of  Job,   who, 

447.  n. 

Brevity  and  obscurity  of  the  ancient 
proverbs,  to  what  cause  they  may 
be  ascribed,  339.  n. 

Buz,  country  of,   where   situated, 

448.  n. 

C. 
Caab,  an  Arabic  poet,  curious  simUe 

of,  88. 
Callutratui,  his  ode,  and  its  great 

celebrity,  17, 18. 

65 


Cnrmel  Mount,  a  common  image  of 
fer^itv,  weiU^,  and  beauty,  in 
the  Hebrew  poetry,  84. 

Catiu»,  Cato,  Gohimdla,  writings  oi^ 
8. 

(JieerOf  a  very  indififisient  poet,  23. 

Cimmerian  Caves  of  Campania,  g^ve 
rise  to  the  opinions  of  Homer  and 
Virgil  concerning^  the  infernal  re> 
gions.  100.  n. 

Commentatort,  errors  into  whidi  they 
have  been  betrayed  by  their  igno- 
rance of  the  Hebrew,  384.  n. 

Com^orJMfi,  the  first  and  roost  natu- 
ral of  all  rhetorical  figures,  68.  n. 

C^mpariwn,  Simile,  and  Allusion,  dis- 
tinctions observed  by  critics  in  the 
use  of  these  words,  155.  n. 

Comparieenf  two  capital  imperfec- 
tions to  which  this  figure  is  lia- 
ble, 166. 

Cretans,  Laws  of  the,  accompanied 
with  music,  55. 

Critic,  duty  of,  87,  97. 
D. 

DeBcriptiwM,  not  easy  in  some  to  de« 
cide  whether  they  are  to  be  assiffu- 
ed  to  the  Sublime  or  BeautiiuL 
Instances  of  this,  186.  n. 

DetcripHon,  to  judge  riglitly  of,  it  is 
necessary  to  have  as  distmct  and 
clear  ideas  of  the  thing  itself  as 
the  author,  494. 

IHvine  Spirit  never  takes  such  entire 
possession  of  the  mind  of  the  pro- 
phet as  to  subdue  or  eztinsniish 
the  character  and  genius  of  the 
man,  214. 

JDramatic   exhibitions,    their   com- 
mencement and  progress,  412.  n. 
E. 

Edom,  why  particularly  mariced  as 
an  object  of  divine  vengeance 
282.  n. 

Elegance,  not  inconsistent  with  bre- 
vity and  obscurity,  341. 

Elesr^,  the  ancient,  19.  Not  only 
the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah,  but 


$\4 


mDBX  09   mBMARKABtS   ClACtJliaTAVemt. 


parts  of  the  prophecy  of  Ezekiel, 
of  tiie  book  of  Job,  and  of  the 
Psalms,  are  elegiac,  323»  324. 

FMhu,  his  character,  490. 

Elithaz,  who  he  was,  and  where  he 
dwelt,  447.  n. 

Etmatefw  of  the  tcnaes  ought  never 
to  be  introduced  but  when  the 
mind  is  sufficiently  heat^  not  to 
perceive  the  allusion,  207.  n. 

JKntktmamn,  poetical,  SX 

Epic  Poetry,  iu  character  and  ef- 
forts, 14,  15. 

KeehtflUit  a  Pytha^oreon,  11. 

Euripidea,  known  amongst  his  friends 
by  the  appellation  of  tha  Dramatic 
Philosopher,  11. 

Eaekiel  inferior  in  elegance  to  Isaiah, 
291.    His  character  as  a  prophet, 
ibid.    Not  excelled  by  Isaiah  in 
ftubltmity,  ibid, 
F. 

Fitptrea,  congenial,  of  Metaphor,  Al- 
legory, and  Comparison,  used  by 
the  Hebrew  poets  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  134. 

Jhrmettt  Juliosy  an  astronomical 
writer,  8. 

G. 

Georgic9  of  Virgil  a  delightful  and 
periect  work,  8. 

O^ae*  in  the  Hebrew  language,  42.  n. 

Gi'eekw  imlebted  to  the  Egyptians  for 
their  notions  of  a  future  state,  129. 
n.  Arguments  in  support  of  the 
Hebrews  deriving  theirs  from  the 
iame  source»  visionarv»  n.  129. 
H. 

Mahakkukf  eharacter  af  bis  style, 
297. 

/To^jr*»,  the  prophet,  hia  style  alto- 
gether prosaie,  297. 

Bappine$9t  human,  oonsiats  in  action, 
47^. 

Hebrew»,  opinion  of  M.  Michaelis, 
that  they  as  Well  as  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  borrowed  their  poetical 
imagery  from  the  Egyptians,  129. 
n.  This  hypothesis  ingenious  but 
fanciful,  1  9.  n. 

Ikftrew  Metre,  a  considerable  part  of 
it  probbbly  consisted  in  the  paral- 
lelism of  the  sentences,  270. 
Jfebrevf  Poets,  their  peculiar  com- 
mend ution,  96. 
Jhhrevf  Poetry  possesses  excellencies 
peculiar  to  itseif,  37.  Its  opposi- 
tion to  the  f«rcek  and  Latin  poet- 
ry, 47.    Us  dialect  distinctly  poet- 


ical, 42.    Greatly  superior  t»  lie 

Grecian,  26. 

ffebret»  Versification,  little  knowU 
edge  of  it  now  to  be  attained,  36, 
44,  &c. 

Hebrew  word  expressive  of  the  poetic 
style  admits  of  three  sigfiifleations, 
50.  The  same  tised  to  denote  a 
Prophet,  a  Poet,  and  a  Muaiciai^ 
240. 

Ikrnc  Poetry,  iu  character,  9. 

MHefry  inferior  to  Poetry  aa  a  meaaa 
of  instruction,  12. 

Homer t  his  excellence,  10. 

Moeea^  characteristics  of  his  styles 
294. 

Horace,  the  3d  ode  of  the  4th  book 
commended,  368. 

Hyberhole  requires  passion  to  |^Te  it 
ibrce  or  propriety,  70.  n. 
L 

Jtbtmetau  eminent  for  wisdom,  449. 

Jeremiah^  probablv  the  author  of  the 
139th  Psahn,  276. 

Jews,  futility  of  their  opinions  rc- 
iqiecting  Daniel,  275. 

ImagcM  sensible,  reason  why  amongst 
such  as  are  applied  to  the  Deity, 
those  principally  which  seem  most 
remote  from  the  object,  and  most 
unworthy  of  the  Divine  Majesty» 
are,  when  used  metaphorically»  the 
most  sublime,  222. 

Ima^et  of  Light  and  Darkness,  com- 
monly used  in  ail  languages  to  de- 
note Prosperity  and  AdversitjTy  &0* 

Imaginative  and  Judgement  their  dif- 
ferent constituent  principles,  IGS. 

Imiah^  consideration  of  the  34th  and 
35th  chapters,  280.  Character  of 
baiah  as  apropliet,  288.  Superior 
in  elegance  and  sublimity  to  Jere* 
miak,  290. 

Jobf  the  book  of,  manifesttv  written 
in  Arabia,  448.  Style  of  it  mate- 
rially  different  from  the  poetical 
at^le  of  Moses^  450.  More  a<  cient 
than  any  of  tlie  sacred  books,  4501 
No  vestige  of  an  allegohcal  mean- 
ing throughout  tlie  poem,  452.  Di- 
vine autliority  of  this  book  not  af- 
fected by  the  doubt  of  its  being 
founded  in  fact,  452.  n.  Some  ar- 
guments in  favour  of  this  p<iem\ 

•  being  written  by  Moses,  456.  n. 
Invciitigation  of  and  objections  ta 
this  opinion,  457. 1%.  Wonderftil 
regularity  in  the  structure  of  thia 
poem,  480. 


IUDSK  0«  BSifAEKABLB  OlBOVKftfAflCBt; 


^IJ 


Jbd;  ehancteriatica  of  his  style,  395. 
^mig^meitt  strengthened  by  research- 
*    es  after  objects  of  taste,  5. 


iMtig^uoffe  of  the  Passions,  and  Lan- 
piage  of  Reason,  remarkable  dif- 
ference between  tiiem,  190 

J^amentaiion  of  David  for  Sanl  and 
Jonathan,  a  beautiful  poem  of  the 
elegiac  kind,  339.  Paraphrased, 
3S3. 

Zamentatioru,  book  of,  superior  to 
any  other  poem  in  splendid,  and 
at  the  same  time  concentrated,  im- 
agery, 320. 

Lttw9  originally  written  in  verse,  5.5. 
n.  Those  of  some  nations  accom- 
panied with  music,  55. 

Lebanon^  Mount,  an  usual  image  in 
Hebrew  poetry  for  whatever  is  con- 
spicuous, august  and  sublime,  84. 

JU^ru  very  commonly  make  their 
dens  among  the  reeds  upon  the 
banks  of  the  rivers,  85.  n. 

Longimu  the  most  accomplished  au- 
thor on  sublimity,  189. 

/^ric  Poetry,  its  effects»  15, 16. 

M. 

MiUaehif  book  of,  written  in  a  kind 

of  middle  style,  29r. 
•Ifandraket  opinion  of  the  Orientals 

relating  to  it,  444.  n. 
MiudHu»^  a  writer  of  the  Augustan 

age,  8.    An  indifferent  poet,  ibid. 
M^eiaphoriX»  principle  advantage  over 

the  Simile  or  Comparison,  68.  n. 
MctaphoTM  not  unnatural  in  extremes 

of  pti99imt^   though   Oomparisons 

are,  why,  69.  n. 
Metonymy^  what,  69.  n. 
Micahf  characteristics  of  his  style, 

296. 
Mndf  human,  can  dwell  only  on  one 

object  at  a  time,  472.  n. 
J^SSaraUhfy  the  only  branch  of  disci- 
pline which  can  be  successfully 

treated  of  in  verse,  why,  346.  n. 
Myttical  Allegoiy,  its  origin,  147. 

K. 
^ahuMy  characteristics  of  his  style, 

296. 
J^aiyral  objects  supply  the  principal 

ornaments  of  all  poetry,  87. 
fATumet^  his  Salian  poenis  of  higher 

antiquity  than  any  other  Latin  po- 

etly,353. 


ObatUah^  greatest  part  of  hia  proph- 
ec^  contained  in  one  of  the  pn>pH< 
ecies  of  Jeremiah,  397. 
Odct  characteristics  of,  15,  355.    Its 

effects,  15. 
OdBt  of  the  Ascensions,  362.  n. 
OetUfmt  Tyrannus  of  Sophocles,  476. 
Might  hare  been  so  constructed  as 
to  R>rm  a  poem  similar  to  that  of 
Job,  477. 
Oedifma  Coloneus  of  Sophocles,  Sto- 
ry of,  478.     Cannot  properly  be 
brought  into  comparison  with  the 
bookof  Job,  479. 
Oratmy  of  more  recent  origin  than 

poetry,  142.  n. 
OrientalM  stain  the  hair  and  complec- 
tjon  with  hennOf  in  order  to  give  it 
a  yellow  or  golden  cast,  443.  n. 
Otnarif  fbumlation  of  the  poems  at- 
tributed to  him.  56.  n. 
P. 
Parable^  necessary  that  the  literal 
shmitd  never  be  confounded  with 
the  ficriirative  sense,  142. 
ParQlieH9m,   use   and  definition  of, 

272.  n. 
Perip/traat9,  a  species  of  Metonymy, 

69.  n. 
Pertiits,  the  satirist,  the  difficulty  Of 
understanding  him  arises  princi- 
pally from  his  use  of  metaphors, 
which  are  obscure,  and  but  slight- 
ly related,  78. 
P/utrecydest   contemporary  with  Cy- 
rus, the  first  Greek  who  published 
a  prose  oration,  54. 
PInloMpky  necessary  to  poetical  emi- 
nence, 11.    Philosopher  and  Poet 
seem  principally  to  diflfer  in  pur- 
suing the  same'  ends  by  different 
means,  7.    What  these  are,  7,  8. 
Pindar,  his  excellence,  372. 
Poetry,  its  origin,  225.     Uaeful  prin- 
cipally from  its  being  agreeable, 
and  of  more  utility  Uian  Philoso- 
phy from  this  circumstance,   7. 
Proofs  of  this  position,  7,  &c.   Its 
effects,  25.    Propriety  of  assigning 
it  a  place  amongst  tlie  otiier  liber- 
al arts,  4.    By  whom  the  Professor- 
ship  at  Oxford  was  instituted,  6.  n. 
Poetrv,  lighter  kinds  of,  their  utili- 
ty. 21. 
Poetry f  sacred,  its  superior  excel- 
lence, 25.  Its  character,  35.  From 
it  we  are  to  learn  both  the  origiif 
of  the  art»  and  how  to  estimate  its 


516 


l]f»EK  09  ESMAaKABLB  ClftOVUftTAUCmi. 


excellence,  26.  Iti  connexion  with 
Prophecy,  248. 

Poetry,  prophetic,  its  chtfacter,  279. 

P9et9i  perusal  and  imitation  of  them 
ezerciaet  and  improves  the  under- 
standing, and  g'ives  a  grace  to  tbe 
manner  of  ezpresftkMi,  23.  OpinioB 
of  the  Gre^s  respecting  them,  34. 

IVv^Atfdet,  scriptttral,  many  of  them 
conspicuous  as  poems,  249.  In- 
stances, 50,  250,  &c. 

Probheejff  its  end,  and  the  means  em- 
ployed for  producing  this  end,  277. 
Its  connection  with  Poetry,  248. 

Prophtttfing  accompanied  with  mu- 
sic, 245. 

Prophet»,  their  office,  245. 

Pr99op9pmia^  69.  n.  Neariy  allied  to 
the  Metaphor,  and  still  nearer  to 
the  Metonymy,  173.  n. 

Pwimodift  Hebrew,  though  usually 
restricted  to  two  alternate  chorus- 
es, sometimes  extended  to  more, 
254. 

pgalm  23d,  when  probably  composed, 
359.  n.  Paraphrase  of  the  42d.  On 
what  occasion  this  Psalm  was  com- 
posed, 325.  Paraphrase  of  the 
133d,  162. 

B. 

MMrimcal  notions  concerning  inspi- 
ration, 275. 

MeUvum  the  source  of  poetry,  25,  26. 
The  soil  in  which  she  flourishes 
most,  27. 

B. 

Soared  WritingM,  why  it  is  not  possi- 
ble for  any  translation  to  do  per- 
fisct  justice  to  them,  113. 

Sepidekr€9t  Hebrew,  described,  99. 
Some  very  magnificent  ones,  sup- 
posed to  have  belonged  to  their 
kings,  stm  remaining  in  Judea,  99. 

Sccratet  applied  to  music  in  conse- 
quence of  a  dream,  29. 

Solomon^  his  wife  alluded  to  in  the 
Canticles,  could  not  be  the  daugh- 
ter of  Pharoah,  436.  n. 

S^lan  had  recourse  to  poetry  when 
any  difficulty  occurred  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  public  affairs,  19. 
Tbe  astonishing  effisct  produced 
by  his  versei«,  20. 

Shtur  of  Solmnon  an  allegorical  poem, 
425.  This  opinion  controverted, 
433.  n.  Again  supported,  434.  n. 
One  circimistancein  it  which  bears 


a  near  affinity  to  the  Gfeek  dnm^ 
423.  What  qualities  are  necessary 
in  a  critic  who  attempts  an  expla- 
nation of  this  poem,  442.  n. 

Steuchonu,  a  writer  of  considerable 
emin^ce,  16. 

in  the  historical  and  metrical 
parts  of  the  book  of  Job  xtmarica» 
blv  dissimilar,  192. 

Sublime  connected  with  the  paihetie^ 
Ukeans  of  exciting  it,  229.  n. 

SubUmUy,  there  is  none  where  no 
passion  is  excited,  230. 
T. 

TVnse,  speaking  of  the  preeent  m  the 
future,  not  peculiar  to  the  He- 
brews, but  still  common  in  our 
own  country,  211.  n. 

Theocritut  supposed  to  have  been  ac- 
quainted with  the  Song  of  Solo- 
mon, 423. 

T^hreMng',  four  different  methods  of 
performing  it  described,  138.  n. 
Nature  and  method  of  Uus  openr 
tion  in  Palestine,  93. 

Tragedy,  13.    Its  excellence,  14. 

Tragic  Mute^  preferred  by  Aristotle 
to  the  heroic,  11. 

Trarulatumt,  their  difficulty,  why 
that  of  the  Bible  continues  to  be 
read  with  satisfaction  and  delight» 
113.  n. 

T)fneu»^  the  Greek  tragic  poet,  20. 
V. 

Forro,  learned,  8. 

VirgiU  opinion  concerning  his  4th 
Eclo^e,  300.  n.  Enquiry  into  the 
validity  of  this  opinion,  302.  Child 
referred  to  not  the  Messiah,  but 
the  expected  offspring  of  Octavius, 
302-^08. 

U. 

UXf  or  Gnutz,  land  of,  evidently 
Idumea,  446  n.  Where  situate^ 
iUd.  n. 

W. 

Water,  frequently  used  as  a  metaphor 

*   by  the  Hebrew  poets,  why,  83. 

Wemen,  amongst  the  ancients  gener- 
ally employed  as  mourners  at  f)i> 
nerals,  313. 

Z. 

Zechariah,  his  style  chiefly  prosak^ 
297. 

Zephaniah^  bis  style  poetical,  297. 

Zophar^  where  he  probably  livedt  448. 


FINIS. 


..i^^^^^''""^//-.K,K,^P.K'^,^... 


A   A  Av  A,   4   A  *^ 


'y^mui^ 


;.'^;"vi»'..*".. 


m^mmm 


^:::*"^**^»*am««»a.,,,,:  '