Lyndiraca. A crown is come, and will not fate allow,
And yet I feel something like death is near.
My guards, my guards
Let not that ugly skeleton appear,
Sure Destiny mistakes; this death's not mine;
She doats, and means to cut another line.
Tell her I am a queen-hut 'tis too late ;
Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate;
Bow down, ye slaves
Bow quickly down, and your submission show;
I'm pleas'd to taste an empire ere I go.

Dies.
Conquest of Grenada, Part II. Act v.

Ventidius. But you, ere love misled your wand'ring eyes, Were, sure, the chief and best of human race, Fram'd in the very pride and boast of nature, So perfect, that the gods who form’d you wonder'd At their own skill, and cry'd, A lucky hit Has mended our design.

Dryden, An for Love, Act I.

Not to talk of the impiety of this sentiment, it is ludicrous instead of being lofty.

The famous epitaph on Raphael is no less absurd than any of the foregoing passages :

Raphael, timuit, quo sospite, vinci

Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori. Imitated by Pope in his Epitaph on Sir Godfrey Kneller:

Living, great Nature fear'd he might outvie
Her works; and dying, fears herself might die.

Such is the force of imitation ; for Pope of him. self would never have been guilty of a thought so extravagant.

So much upon sentiments; the language proper for expressing them, comes next in order.

CHAPTER XVII.

Language of Passion.

AMONG the particulars that compose the social part of our nature, a propensity to communicate our opinions, our emotions, and every thing that affects us, is remarkable. Bad fortune and injustice affect us greatly; and of these we are so prone to complain, that if we bave no friend nor acquaintance to take part in our sufferings, we sometimes utter our complaints aloud, even where there are none to listen.

But this propensity operates not in every state of mind. A man immoderately grieved, seeks to afflict himself, rejecting all consolation : immoderate grief accordingly is mute : complaining is struggling for consolation.

It is the wretch's comfort still to have
Some small reserve of near and inward wo,
Some unsuspected hoard of inward grief,
Which they unseen may wail, and weep,

and

mourn, And glutton-like alone devour.

Mourning Bride, Act I. Sc. I.

When grief subsides, it then and no sooner finds a tongue : we complain, because complaining is an effort to disburden the mind of its distress.*

Surprise and terror are silent passions for a dif. ferent reason: they agitate the mind so violently as for a time to suspend the exercise of its faculties, and among others the faculty of speech.

Love and revenge, when immoderate, are not more loquacious than immoderate grief. But when these passions become moderate, they set the tongue free, and, like moderate grief, become loquacious: moderate love, when unsuccessful, is vented in complaints; when successful, is full of joy expressed by words and gestures.

As no passion hath any long uninterrupted existence,* nor beats away with an equal pulse, the language suggested by passion is not only unequal, but frequently interrupted : and even during an uninterrupted fit of passion, we only express in words the more capital sentiments. In familiar conversation, one who vents every single thought is justly branded with the character of loquacity ; because sensible people express no thoughts but what make some figure : in the same manner, we are only disposed to express the strongest pulses of passion, especially when it returns with impetuo. sity after interruption.

I formerly had occasion to observert that the sentiments ought to be tuned to the passion, and the language to both. Elevated sentiments require ele. vated language : tender sentiments ought to be clothed in words that are soft and flowing: when the mind is depressed with any passion, the senti. ments must be expressed in words that are bomble, not low. Words being intimately connected with the ideas they represent, the greatest harmony is required between them : to express, for example, an humble sentiment in high sounding words, is disagreeable by a discordant mixture of feelings ; and the discord is not less when elevated senti. ments are dressed in low words:

Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult.
Indignatur item privatis ac prope socco
Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestä.

Horace, Ars poet. l. 89.

This however excludes not figurative expression, which, within moderate hounds, communicates to the sentiment an agreeable elevation. We are sensible of an effect directly opposite, where figurative, expression is indulged beyond a just measure: the opposition between the expression and the sentiment, makes the discord appear greater than it is in reality.*

At the same time, figures are not equally the language of every passion : pleasant emotions, which elevate or swell the mind, vent themselves in strong epithets and figurative expression; but humbling and dispiriting passions affect to speak plain :

Figurative expression, being the work of an enlivened imagination, cannot be the language of anguish or distress. Otway, sensible of this, has painted a scene of distress in colours finely adapt. ed to the subject : there is scarce a figure in it, ex. cept a short and natural simile with which the speech is introduced. Belvidera talking to her father of her husband :

Think you saw what past at our last parting;
Think you beheld him like a raging lion,
Pacing the earth, and tearing up his steps,
Fate in his eyes, and roaring with the pain
Of burning fury; think you saw his one hand
Fix'd on my throat, while the extended other
Grasp'd a keen threat’ning dagger; oh, 'twas thus
We last embrac’d, when, trembling with revenge,
He dragg’d me to the ground, and at my bosom
Presented horrid death : cry'd out, My friends!
Where are my friends? swore, wept, rag'd, threaten’d, lov’d;
For he yet lov’d, and that dear love preserv'd me
To this last trial of a father's pity.
I fear not death, but cannot bear a thought
That that dear hand should do th' unfriendly office;
If I was ever then your care, now hear me;
Fly to the senate, save the promis'd lives
Of his dear friends, ere minę be made the sacrifice.

Venice Preserved, Act V.

To preserve the foresaid resemblance between words and their meaning, the sentiments of active and hurrying passions ought to be dressed in words where syllables prevail that are pronounced short or fast; for these nake an impression of hurry and precipitation. Emotions, on the other hand, that rest upon their objects, are best expressed by words where syllables prevail that are pronounced long or slow. A person affected with melancholy has a languid and slow train of perceptions : the expression best suited to that state of mind, is where words, not only of long but of many syllables, VOL.I.

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