(Which from the stubborn stone a torrent rends)
Precipitate the pond'rous mass descends;
From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;
At every shock the crackling wood resounds;
Still gath'ring force, it smokes; and, urg'd amain,
Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain :
There stops-So Hector. Their whole force he prov'd;
Resistless when he rag'd; and when he stopt, unmov'd.
Iliad, xiii. 187.

The image of a falling rock is certainly not ele. vating;* and yet undoubtedly the foregoing simile fires and swells the mind: it is grand therefore, if not sublime. And the following simile will afford additional evidence, that there is a real, though nice, distinction between these two feelings:

So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high,
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell
On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight,
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield
Such ruin intercept. Ten paces huge
He back recoil'd; the tenth on bended knee
His massy spear upstaid; as if on earth
Winds under ground or waters forcing way,
Sidelong had push'd a mountain from his seat
Half-sunk with all his pines.

Milton, b. vi.

A comparison by contrast may contribute to grandeur or elevation, no less than by resemblance; of which the following comparison of Lucan is a re. markable instance:

Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.

Considering that the Heathen deities possessed a rank but one degree above that of mankind, I think it would not be easy by a single expression, to exalt more one of the human species, than is done in this comparison. I am sensible, at the same time, that such a comparison among Christians, who entertain more exalted notions of the

Deity, would justly be reckoned extravagant and

absurd.

The last article mentioned, is that of lessening or depressing a hated or disagreeable object; which is effectually done by resembling it to any thing low or despicable. Thus Milton, in his description of the rout of the rebel-angels, happily expresses their terror and dismay in the following simile:

As a herd

Of goats or timorous flock together throng'd,
Drove them before him thunder-struck, pursu'd
With terrors and with furies to the bounds
And crystal wall of heav'n, which op❜ning wide,
Roll'd inward, and a spacious gap disclos'd
Into the wasteful deep: the monstrous sight
Struck them with horror backward, but far worse
Urg'd them behind; headlong themselves they threw
Down from the verge of heav'n.

Milton, b. vi.

In the same view, Homer, I think, may be justified In comparing the shouts of the Trojans in battle to the noise of cranes,* and to the bleating of a flock of sheep it is no objection that these are low images; for it was his intention to lessen the Trojans by opposing their noisy march to the silent and manly march of the Greeks. Addison,‡ describing the figure that men make in the sight of a superior being, takes opportunity to mortify their pride by comparing them to a swarm of pismires.

A comparison that has none of the good effects mentioned in this discourse, but is built upon common and trifling circumstances, makes a mighty silly figure :

* Beginning of book iii.
Guardian, No. 153.

† Book iv. 1. 498

Non sum nescius, grandia consilia a multis plerumque caúsis, ceu magna navigia a plurimis remis, impelli. Strada, de bello Belgico.

By this time, I imagine the different purposes of comparison, and the various impressions it makes on the mind, are sufficiently illustrated by proper examples. This was an easy task. It is more difficult to lay down rules about the propriety or impropriety of comparisons; in what circumstances they may be introduced, and in what circumstances they are out of place. It is evident, that a comparison is not proper on every occasion: a man when cool and sedate, is not disposed to poetical flights, nor to sacrifice truth and reality to imaginary beauties: far less is he so disposed when oppressed with care, or interested in some important transaction that engrosses him totally. On the other hand, a man, when elevated or animated by passion, is disposed to elevate or animate all his objects: he avoids familiar names, exalts objects by circumlocution and metaphor, and gives even life and voluntary action to inanimate beings. In this heat of mind, the highest poetical flights are indulged, and the boldest similes and metaphors relished.* But without soaring so high, the mind is frequently in a tone to relish chaste and moderate ornament; such as comparisons that set the principal object in a strong point of view, or that embellish and diversify the narration. In general, when by any animating passion, whether pleasant or painful, an impulse is given to the imagination; we are in that condition disposed to every sort of figurative expression, and in particular to comparisons. This in a great measure is evident from the comparisons already mentioned; and shall be further illustrated

• It is accordingly observed by Longinus, in his Treatise of the Sublime, that the proper time for metaphor, is when the passions are so swelled as to hurry on like a torrent.

by other instances. Love, for example, in its infancy, rousing the imagination, prompts the heart to display itself in figurative language, and in similes :

Troilus. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we?'
Her bed is, India; there she lies, a pearl:
Between our Ilium, and where she resides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood;
Ourself the merchant; and the sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Again :

Troilus and Cressida, Act 1. Sc. 1.

Come, gentle Night; come, loving black-brow'd Night!
Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,

Take him, and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heav'n so fine,
That all the world shall be in love with Night,
And pay no worship to the garish Sun.

Romeo and Juliet, Act III. Sc. 4.

The dread of a misfortune, however imminent, involving always some doubt and uncertainty, agitates the mind and excites the imagination:

Wolsey.

-Nay, then, farewel:

I've touch'd the highest point of all my greatness,
And from that full meridian of my glory

I haste now to my setting. I shall fall,

Like a bright exhalation in the evening,

And no man see me more.

Henry VIII. Act III. Sc. 4.

But it will be a better illustration of the present head, to give examples where comparisons are improperly introduced. I have had already occasion to observe, that similes are not the language of a man in his ordinary state of mind, despatching his daily and usual work. For that reason, the following speech of a gardener to his servants, is extremely improper:

1

Go, bind-thou up yon dangling apricots,
Which like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight:
Give some supportance to the bending twigs.
Go thou; and like an executioner,

Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth;
All must be even in our government.

Richard II. Act III. Sc. 7.

The fertility of Shakspeare's vein betrays him frequently into this error. There is the same impropriety in another simile of his :

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice;
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us:
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter; like to favourites,
Made proud by princes that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it.

Much ado about Nothing, Açt III. Sc. 1.

Rooted grief, deep anguish, terror, remorse, despair, and all the severe dispiriting passions, are declared enemies, perhaps not to figurative language in general, but undoubtedly to the pomp and solemnity of comparison. Upon that account, the simile pronounced by young Rutland, under a terror of death from an inveterate enemy, and praying mercy, is unnatural:

So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks insulting o'er his prey,
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look.

Third Part, Henry VI. Act L. Sc. 5.

Nothing appears more out of place, nor more awkwardly introduced, than the following simile: