It holds true in this province of writing, as in war, "The more danger;
the more honour." It must be very enterprising: it must, in Shakespeare's
style, have hairbreadth 'scapes; and often tread the very brink of error:
nor can it ever deserve the applause of the real judge, unless it renders
itself obnoxious to the misapprehensions of the contrary.
Such is Casimire's strain among the moderns, whose lively wit, and happy
fire, is an honour to them. And Buchanan might justly be much admired, if
any thing more than the sweetness of his numbers, and the purity of his
diction, were his own: his original, from which I have taken my motto,
through all the disadvantages of a northern prose translation, is still
admirable; and, Cowley says, as preferable in beauty to Buchanan, as Judaea
is to Scotland.
Pindar, Anacreon, Sappho, and Horace, are the great masters of lyric
poetry among Heathen writers. Pindar's muse, like Sacharissa, is a
stately, imperious, and accomplished beauty; equally disdaining the use of
art, and the fear of any rival; so intoxicating that it was the highest
commendation that could be given an ancient, that he was not afraid to
taste of her charms;
Pindarici fontis qui non expalluit haustus;
a danger which Horace declares he durst not run.
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