Impulsu, et siccis vultus in nubibus hærent. Lib. iii. ad med. The fine description in the Gierusalemme Liberata, of a similar distress in the army of Godfrey, before the walls of Jerusalem, has probably been borrowed fromt this passage of Lucan; and it is pleasing to observe, with what address Tasso has imitated, though not copied, the picturesque circumstance with which the description of the Roman poet is closed. Instead of aggravating the distress of the soldier, by the prospect of waters, which he could not approach, he recals to his remembrance the cool shades and still fountains of his native land: a circumstance, not only singularly pathetic, but more fertile also of imagery, than perhaps any other that the poet could have imagined: S'alcun giamai tra frondeggiente rive O giù precipitose vi acque vive Per Alpe, o'n piaggia érboso à passo lento : E ministra materia al suo tormento, In Thomson's description of Winter in the northern regions, though the description itself is sublime, yet one additional circumstance adds powerfully to its sublimity: Thence, winding eastward to the Tartar coast, The buiding fury; but in all its rage Of tempest, taken by the boundless frost, In the following masterly description of a very sublime scene in nature, by Mr. Whately, I doubt not but that it will be acknowledged, how much the sublimity of it is increased, by the very picturesque imagery which the occupations of the inhabitants afford. "A scene at "the New Weir, on the river Wye, which in itself is "truly great and awful, so far from being disturbed, be"comes more interesting and important, by the business "to which it is destined. It is a chasm between two ranges of hills, which rise almost perpendicularly from "the water; the rocks on the sides are mostly heavy masses, and their colour is generally brown; but here " and there a pale craggy cliff starts up to a vast height "above the rest, unconnected, broken, and bare: large trees frequently force out their way amongst them, and 66 many of them stand far back in the covert, where their "natural dusky hue is deepened by the shadow which "overhangs them. The river, too, as it retires, loses "itself amid the woods, which close immediately above, "then rise thick and high, and darken the water. In the "midst of all this gloom is an iron forge, covered with a "black cloud of smoke, and surrounded with half-burn"ed ore, with coal, and with cinders. The fuel for it is "brought down a path, worn into steps, narrow, and steep, and winding among the precipices; and near it "is an open space of barren moor, about which are scat"tered the huts of the workmen. It stands close to the "cascade of the Weir, where the agitation of the current "is increased by large fragments of rocks which have "been swept down by floods from the banks, or shiver"ed by tempests from the brow; and at stated intervals, "the sullen sound, from the strokes of the great ham"mers in the forge, deadens the roar of the waterfall."— Page 109. There is a similar beauty, if I am not mistaken, in the conclusion of the following passage from Mons. Diderot. "Qu'est ce qu'il faut au poëte? Est-ce une nature "brute ou cultivée ? paisible ou troublée? Préféra-t-il "la beauté d'un jour pur et serein, à l'horreur d'une "nuit obscure, où le siflement interrompu des vents se "mêle par intervalles au murmure sourd et continu d'un tonnere éloigné, et où il voit l'éclair allumer le ciel sur "sa tête? Préféra-t-il le spectacle d'une mer tranquil"le, à celui des flots agitées? le muet et froid aspect “d'un palais, à la promenade parmi des ruines? un éd"ifice construit, un éspece planté de la main des hommes, au touffu d'une antique forêt, au creux ignoré "d'une roche deserte? des nappes d'eau, des bassins, "des cascades, à la vûe d'une cataracte qui se brise en "tombant à travers des rochers, et dont le bruit se fait entendre au loin du berger, qui a conduit son troupeau "dans la montagne, et qui l'écoute avec effroi ?"-Epitre à Mons. Grimm. sur la Poësie Dramatique. I shall conclude these illustrations with a very sublime one from the Paradise Regained of Milton, in which I believe the force of the concluding stroke will not be denied. -Either tropic now 'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven; the clouds From many a horrid rift abortive, pour'd Fierce rain, with lightning mix'd; nor slept the winds Book iv. In these, and a thousand other instances that might be produced, I believe every man of sensibility will be conscious of a variety of great or pleasing images passing with rapidity in his imagination, beyond what the scene or description immediately before him can of themselves excite. They seem often, indeed, to have but a very distant relation to the object that at first excited them; and the object itself appears only to serve as a hint, to awaken the imagination, and to lead it through every analogous idea that has place in the memory. It is then, indeed, in this powerless state of reverie, when we are carried on by our conceptions, not guiding them, that the deepest emotions of beauty or sublimity are felt; that our hearts swell with feelings which language is too weak to express; and that, in the depth of silence and astonishment, we pay to the charm that enthralls us, the most flattering mark of our applause. "The power of such characters in nature," says Mr. Whately (from whom I am happy to borrow the following observations, not only from the beauty of their expression, but from their singular coincidence in the illustration of the fact I have been endeavouring to establish) "the power of such characters is not confined to the "ideas which the objects themselves immediately sug66 gest; for these are connected with others, which insensibly lead to subjects far distant perhaps from the orig"inal thought, and related to it only by similitude in the "sensations they excite. In a prospect enriched and "enlivened with inhabitants and cultivation, the at"tention is caught first by the circumstances which are gayest in the season, the bloom of an orchard, the "festivity of a hay-field, and the carols of a harvest-home; "but the cheerfulness which these infuse into the mind, "expands afterwards to other objects than those immediately presented to the eye, and we are thereby dispos❝ed to receive, and delighted to pursue, a variety of pleas 66 ing ideas, and every benevolent feeling. At the sight "of a ruin, reflections on the change, the decay, and the "desolation before us naturally occur; and they intro"duce a long succession of others, all tinctured with that "melancholy which these have inspired: or if the mon"ument revive the memory of former times, we do not Even stop at the simple fact which it records, but recollect 66 many more coeval circumstances, which we see, not "perhaps as they were, but as they are come down to us, "venerable with age, and magnified by fame. "without the assistance of buildings, or other adventi❝tious circumstances, nature alone furnishes materials "for scenes which may be adapted to almost every kind "of expression. Their operation is general, and their 66 consequences infinite: the mind is elevated, depressed, "or composed, as gaiety, gloom, or tranquillity prevail "in the scene, and we soon lose sight of the means by "which the character is formed. We forget the partic"ular objects it presents, and, giving way to their effects "without recurring to the cause, we follow the track they "have begun, to any extent, which the dispositions they "accord with will allow. It suffices that the scenes of "nature have power to affect our imagination and our 46 sensibility for such is the constitution of the human mind, that if once it is agitated, the emotion often |