bridge flung across a chasm between rocks, a cottage on a precipice, are common examples. If I am not mistaken, the effect which such objects have on every one's mind, is to suggest an additional train of conceptions, beside what the scene or description itself would have suggested; for it is very obvious, that no objects are remarked as picturesque, which do not strike the imagination by themselves. They are, in general, such circumstances, as coincide, but are not necessarily connected with, the character of the scene or description, and which, at first affecting the mind with an emotion of surprise, produce afterwards an increased or additional train of imagery. The effect of such objects, in increasing the emotions either of beauty or sublimity, will probably be obvious from the following instances.

The beauty of sunset, in a fine autumnal evening, seems almost incapable of addition from any circumstance. The various and radiant colouring of the clouds, the soft light of the sun, that gives so rich a glow to every object on which it falls, the dark shades with which it is contrasted, and the calm and deep repose that seems to steal over universal nature, form altogether a scene, which serves, perhaps better than any other in the world, to satiate the imagination with delight: Yet there is no man who does not know how great an addition this fine scene is capable of receiving from the circumstance of the evening bell. In what, however, does the effect of this most picturesque circumstance consist? Is it not in the additional images which are thus suggested to the imagination? images indeed of melancholy and sadness, but which still are pleasing, and which serve most wonderfully to accord with that solemn and pensive state of mind, which is almost irresistibly produced by this charming scene.

Nothing can be more beautiful than Dr. Goldsmith's description of evening, in the Deserted Village:

Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close
Un yonder hill the village murmur rose.
There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came softened from below:
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind,
And the loud laugh, that spoke the vacant mind.

Yet how much is the beauty of this description increased, by the fine circumstance with which it is closed? These all in soft confusion sought the shade,

And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

There is a beauty of the same kind produced in the "Seasons," by the addition of one of the most picturesque circumstances that was ever imagined by a poet:

-Lead me to the mountain brow,

Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf,
Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun.
Around him feeds his many bleating flock,
Of various cadence, and his sportive lambs
Their frolics play; and now the sprightly race
Invites them forth, when swift, the signal given,
They start away, and sweep the mossy mound
That runs around the hill, the rampart once
Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times.

Spring.

The scene is undoubtedly beautiful of itself, without the addition of the last circumstance; yet how much more beautiful does it become by the new order of thought which this circumstance awakens in the mind, and which, contrasting the remembrance of ancient warfare and turbulent times, with the serenity and repose of the modern scene, agitate the imagination with a variety of indistinct conceptions, which otherwise could never have arisen in it!

The physical arguments of Buchanan, in his poem "de Sphæra," against the doctrine of the motion of the earth, are probably read with little emotion; but it is impossible to read the following lines of it without delight, from the very picturesque imagery which they contain:

Ergo tam celeri tellus si concita motu

Iret in Occasum, rursusque rediret in Ortum,
Cuncta simul quateret secum, vastoque fragore,
Templa, ædes, miserisque etiam cum civibus, urbes
Opprimerit subitæ strages inopina ruinæ.

Ipsæ etiam volucres tranantes aera leni
Remigio alarum, celeri vertigine terræ
Abreptas gemerent sylvas, nidosque tenella
Cum sobole et chara forsan cum conjuge: nec se
Auderet zephyro solus committere turtur,

Ne procul ablatos, terra fugiente, Hymenæos
Et viduum longo luctu defleret amorem.

Lib. i.

There is a very striking beauty of the same kind in a lit tle poem of Dr. Beattie's, entitled "Retirement."

Thy shades, thy silence now be mine,

Thy charms my only theme;

My haunt, the hollow cliff, whose pine
Waves o'er the gloomy stream,
Where the scar'd owl on pinions grey

Breaks from the rustling boughs,
And down the lone vale sails away
To more profound repose.

"All," says Mr. Whately, in describing the Tinian Lawn at Hagley, "all here is of an even temper, all mild, "placid, and serene; in the gayest season of the day, not “more than cheerful, in the stillest watch of night, not "gloomy. The scene is indeed peculiarly adapted to "the tranquillity of the latter, when the moon seems to "repose her light on the thick foliage of the grove, and "steadily marks the shade of every bough. It is de“lightful then to saunter here, and see the grass and the

gossamer which entwines it glistening with dew, to lis ten, and hear nothing stir, except perhaps a withered "leaf, dropping gently through a tree, and sheltered from "the chill, to catch the freshness of the evening air." It is difficult to conceive any thing more beautiful than this description; yet how much is its beauty increased by the concluding circumstance? "A solitary urn, chosen by "Mr. Pope for the spot, and now inscribed to his memory, when seen by a gleam of moonlight through the trees, fixes that thoughtfulness and composure, to which "the mind is insensibly led by the rest of this elegant "scene."-Observations on gardening, p. 201.

I shall conclude these instances of the effect of picturesque objects, in increasing the emotion of beauty, with a passage from the Iliad, which contains one of the most striking images that I know of in poetry, and which I am the more willing to quote, as it has not been so much taken notice of as it deserves. It is the appearance of Achilles, when Phoenix and Ulysses are sent from the Gre cian camp, to appease his wrath:

Το δε βατην παρα θινα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης,
Πολλα μαλ' ευχομενω γαιηχα Εννοσιγαίῳ,
Ρηΐδιως πεπιθειν μεγάλας Φρενας Αιακίδας
Μυρμιδόνων δ' επι τε κλισίας και νηας ἱκεσθην
Τον δ' εύρον φρενα τερπομένον φόρμιγγι λογική,
Καλή, δαιδαλέη, επι δ' αργυρίους ζυγος κεν
Την αρετ' εξ ενάρων, πτολιν Ηετίωνος ολέσσας
Τη όγε θυμον ετερπεν, αείδε δ' αρα κλέα ανδρων.
Ty
as

Iliad, lib. ix. v. 182.

Through the still night they march, and hear the roar

Of murmuring billows, on the sounding shore ;

And now arriv'd, where on the sandy bay,

The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay,
Amus'd, at ease, the godlike man they found

Pleas'd with the solemn harp's harmonious sound.
With this he sooths his angry soul, and sings
Th' immortal deeds of heroes and of kings.

B. ix. v. 236.

It was impossible for the poet to have imagined any other occupation so well fitted to the mighty mind of Achilles, or so effectual in interesting the reader in the fate of him whom Dr. Beattie calls, with truth, the most terrific human personage that poetical imagination has feigned.

The sublime is increased in the same manner, by the addition of picturesque objects. The striking image with which Virgil concludes the description of the prodigies which attended the death of Cæsar, is well known:

Scilicet et tempus veniet cum finibus illis
Agricola, incurvo terram molitus aratro,
Exesa inveniet scabrâ rubigine pila :

Aut gravibus rastris, galeas pulsabit inanes,
Grandiaque effosis mirabitur ossa sepulchris.

There are few passages more sublime in the Pharsalia of Lucan, than the description, in the third Book, of one of Pompey's armies, blocked up by Cæsar in a part of the country where there was no water, and where the soldiers were perishing with thirst. After describing, very minutely, the fruitless attempts of the army to obtain relief, and the miserable expedients with which they endeavoured to supply their wants, he proceeds, in the following nervous and beautiful lines, of which, I am persuaded, the last circumstance is too striking to require any comment:

O fortunati, fugiens quos barbarus hostis,
Fontibus immistos stravit per rura venemo.
Hos licet in fluvios saniem, tabemque ferarum
Pallida, Dictais, Cæsar, nascentia saxis
Infundas aconita palam, Romana juventus
Non decepta bibet-torrentur viscera flamma
Oraque sicca rigent squamosis aspera linguis ;
Jam marcent venæ, nulloque humore rigatus
Aëris alternos angustat Pulmo meatus,
Rescissoque nocent suspiria dura palato.
Pandant ora siti, nocturnumque aëra captant.

Expectant imbres, quorum modo cuncta natabant