low, that epithets are the poet's colours, and that he can bring nothing to the eye, without a liberal use of them. When used merely to eke out the measure, without adding strength to the sense, or life to the image, they are superfluous and despicable; but not of that order are those of the Botanic Garden. You bid me look at Shakespeare and Milton. I am familiar with their writings. When they mean to describe, they use as many epithets as Mason, or the author of the extracts I sent you, or as any other good poet of the present day; and of the compound epithet they are much more lavish. More frequently, also, than any modern, do they give us several epithets, in climatic succession, to a single substantive. Conversational poetry may be impressive, pathetic, and interesting, with a very sparing use of epithets; but descriptive poetry must abundantly have them, or it can, as was observed before, bring nothing to the eye of the reader. The Botanic Garden is a professedly descriptive composition. Lavish as are its epithets, many of them we find original, and all appropriate. Let us examine if Shakespeare and Milton are less lavish of them when imagery or scenery is their theme. First for the bard of Avon, So are those crispy, snaky, golden locks, That make such wanton gambols in the wind." "Thy turfy mountains where live nibbling sheep, "The seasons alter, hoary-headed frosts " By paved fountain, and by rushy brook, "E'en till the eastern gate, all fiery red, "I warrant you The white, cold, virgin snow upon my heart This even in common dramatic dialogue. And it is worth observation, that even the agitated state of Claudio's mind, at the time he makes the ensuing speech, does not prevent his using epithets lavishly. They are dictated by passion itself, if that passion wishes to give pathetic pictures of the evils it dreads. "Ay! but to die, To lie forgotten in the silent grave, "Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun, But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky." Shew me passages, if you can, in a modern poet, more liberal of epithets than the above verses selected from Shakespeare. Let us look at Milton. "His ponderous shield, Etherial temper, massy, large, and round Five epithets in one line and half. "Now to th' ascent of that steep savage hill "Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the muses haunt "As when Heaven's fire Has scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines, "Ye vallies low, that the mild whispers use But the day and night would fail me in citing instances on this subject. They swarm through the writings of Shakespeare and Milton. Take away the epithets from any of the passages, and see how indistinct the descriptions, images, and landscapes become! You cannot dislike make-weight epithets more than I do. Had you called Pratt an epithetmonger, you had given him his proper title, who gives the following line in seven times repetition through the course of five pages: "O weak, O frail, O poor mortality." You tell me that you dislike in my poem, Louisa, the first adjective of the ensuing couplet, "Lighted with arrowy beams the ocean caves, It has always been my endeavour to paint from nature, rather than to copy from books, in my poetic landscapes; and I have often observed, that, when caves are penetrated with light, it is shot into them in pointed rays, for which arrowy is a picturesque epithet. I confess it is of my own coinage; but I flatter myself it was not coined unhappily. Its original appearance in English verse will, I believe, be found in my Elegy on Captain Cook, published first in the year 1780*. It has met with very flattering adoption in the subsequent works of superior poets. I cannot conclude my letter without adding one more observation respecting the reason you allege for your strange scorn of the extracts from the Botanic Garden. If you will not grant that I have demonstrated your mistake about Shakespeare and Milton being more sparing of the adjective than the best modern poets, I beg we may speak no more to each other on classical subjects, since we shall certainly agree no better on poetic claims, rights, usages, &c. than Archbishop Laud and Hampden would on political ones, were they to talk them over in Elysium. It hectics me painfully to see an understanding of high endowment thus unjust to contemporary abilities-to find the "mole's dim curtain," where I expected to have met the "lynx's beam." Adieu. * This word is not new, but may be found in Milton and Gray. |