n sense, sound, expression, and
conduct. Its thoughts should be uncommon, sublime, and moral; its numbers
full, easy, and most harmonious; its expression pure, strong, delicate,
yet unaffected; and of a curious felicity beyond other poems; its conduct
should be rapturous, somewhat abrupt, and immethodical to a vulgar eye.
That apparent order, and connexion, which gives form and life to some
compositions, takes away the very soul of this. Fire, elevation, and
select thought, are indispensable; an humble, tame, and vulgar ode is the
most pitiful error a pen can commit.

Musa dedit fidibus divos, puerosque deorum.

And as its subjects are sublime, its writer's genius should be so too;
otherwise it becomes the meanest thing in writing, viz. an involuntary
burlesque.

It is the genuine character, and true merit of the ode, a little to
startle some apprehensions. Men of cold complexions are very apt to
mistake a want of vigour in their imaginations, for a delicacy of taste in
their judgments; and, like persons of a tender sight, they look on bright
objects, in their natural lustre, as too glaring; what is most delightful
to a stronger eye, is painful to them. Thus Pindar, who has as much logic
at the bottom as Aristotle or Euclid, to some critics has appeared as mad;
and must appear so to all who enjoy no portion of his own divine spirit.
Dwarf understandings, measuring others by their own standard, are apt to
think they see a monster, when they see a man.

And indeed it seems to be the amends which nature makes to those whom she
has not blessed with an elevation of mind, to indulge them in the
comfortable mistake, that all is wrong, which falls not within the narrow
limits of their own comprehensions and relish.

Judgment, indeed, that masculine power of the mind, in ode, as in all
compositions, should bear the supreme sway; and a beautiful imagination,
as its mistress, should be subdued to its dominion. Hence, and hence only,
can proceed the fairest offspring of the human mind.

But then in ode, there is this difference from other kinds of poetry;
that, there, the imagination, like a very beautiful mistress, is indulged
in the appearance of domineering; though the judgment, like an artful
lover, in reality carries its point; and the less it is suspected of it,
it shows the more masterly conduct, and deserves the greater commendation.

It holds true in this province of writing, as in war, "The more danger;
t