wit upon false conceits, they likewise sometimes struck out unexpected truth: if their conceits were far-fetched, they were often worth the carriage. To write on their plan it was at least necessary to read and think. No man could be born a metaphysical poet, nor assume the dignity of a writer, by descriptions copied from descriptions, by imitations borrowed from imitations, by traditional imagery, and hereditary similies, by readiness of rhyme, and volubility of syllables. In perusing the works of this race of authors, the mind is exercised either by recollection or enquiry : either something already learned is to be retrieved, or something new is to be examined. If their greatness seldom elevates, their acuteness often surprises; if the imagination is not always gratified, at least the powers of reflection and comparision are employed; and in the mass of materials which ingenious absurdity has thrown together, genuine wit and useful knowledge may be sometimes found buried perhaps in grossness of expression, but useful to those who know their value; and such as, when they are expanded to perspicuity, and polished to elegance, may give lustre to works which have more propriety though less copiousness of sentiment. This kind of writing, which was, I believe, borrowed from Marino and his followers, had been recommended by the example of Donne, a man of very extensive and various knowledge; and by Jonson, whose manner resembled that of Donne more in the ruggedness of his lines than in the cast of his sentiments. When their reputation was high, they had undoubtedly more imitators than time has left behind. Their immediate successors, of whom any remembrance can be said to remain, were Suckling, Waller, Denham, Cowley, Cleiveland, and Milton. Denham and Waller sought another way to fame, by improving the harmony of our numbers. Milton tried the metaphysic style only in his lines upon Hobson the Carrier. Cowley adopted it, and excelled his predecessors, having as much sentiment and more musick. Suckling neither improved versification, nor abounded in conceits. The fashionable style remained chiefly with Cowley; Suckling could not reach it, and Milton disdained it. Critical remarks are not easily understood without examples; and I have therefore collected instances of the modes of writing by which this species of poets (for poets they were called by themselves and their admirers) was eminently distinguished. As the authors of this race were perhaps more desirous of being admired than understood, they sometimes drew their conceits from recesses of learning not very much frequented by common readers of poetry. Thus Cowley on Knowledge : The sacred tree 'midst the fair orchard grew; The phoenix Truth did on it rest, And built his perfum❜d nest, That right Porphyrian tree which did true logick shew. Each leaf did learned notions give, And th' apples were demonstrative : So clear their colour and divine, The very shade they cast did other lights outshine. On Anacreon continuing a lover in his old age: Love was with thy life entwin'd, A powerful brand prescribed the date Of thine, like Meleager's fate. Th' antiperistasis of age More inflam'd thy amorous rage. In the following verses we have an allusion to a Rabbinical opinion concerning Manna: Variety I ask not: give me one The person Love does to us fit, Like manna, has the taste of all in it. Thus Donne shews his medicinal knowledge in some encomiastick verses: In every thing there naturally grows If 'twere not injured by extrinsique blows; Keeps off, or cures what can be done or said. Though the following lines of Donne, on the last night of the year, have something in them too scholastick, they are not inelegant : This twilight of two years, nor past nor next, Who, meteor-like, of stuff and form perplext, Debtor to th' old, nor creditor to th' new, That cannot say, my thanks I have forgot, DONNE. Yet more abstruse and profound is Donne's reflection upon man as a microcosm: If men be worlds, there is in every one Of thoughts so far-fetched, as to be not only unexpected, but unnatural, all their books are full. To a lady who wrote poesies for rings. They, who above do various circles find, Say, like a ring, th' equator Heaven des bind. 'Tis thou must write the poesy there, For it wanteth one as yet. Then the sun pass through't twice a year, The sun, COWLEY. The difficulties which have been raised about identity in philosophy, are by Cowley with still more perplexity applied to love: Five years ago (says story) I loved you, For which you call me most inconstant now; Must of all things most strangely inconstant prove, If from one subject they t' another move; My members then the father members were, From whence these take their birth which now are here. If then this body love what th' other did, "Twere incest, which by nature is forbid. The love of different women is, in geographical poetry, compared to travels through different countries: Hast thou not found each woman's breast Either by savages possést, Or wild, and uninhabited? What joy could'st take, or what repose, A lover, burnt up by his affection, is compared to Egypt: The fate of Egypt I sustain, And never feel the dew of rain But all my too much moisture owe COWLEY. The lover supposes his lady acquainted with the ancient laws of augury and rites of sacrifice: And yet this death of mine, I fear, When sound in every other part, Her sacrifice is found without a heart. For the last tempest of my death Shall sigh out that too, with my breath. That the chaos was harmonised, has been recited of old; but whence the different sounds arose remained for a modern to discover: Th' ungovern'd parts no correspondence knew; COWLEY. The tears of lovers are always of great poetical account; but Donne has extended them into worlds. If the lines are not easily understood, they may be read again. On a round ball A workman, that hath copies by, can lay And quickly make that which was nothing all. Which thee doth wear, A globe, yea world, by that impression grow, This world, by waters sent from thee my heaven dis solved so. |