with Judgment, and stops the sense from overflowing into another Line. Formerly the French, like us, and the Italians, had but five Feet, or ten Syllables in their Heroick Verse: but since Ronsard's time, as I suppose, they found their Tongue too weak to support their Epick Poetry, without the addition of another Foot. That indeed has given it somewhat of the run, and measure of a Trimeter; but it runs with more activity than strength: Their Language is not strung with Sinews like our English. It has the nimbleness of a Greyhound, but not the bulk and body of a Mastiff. Our Men and our Verses over-bear them by their weight; and Pondere non Numero, is the British Motto. The French have set up Purity for the Standard of their Language; and a Masculine Vigour is that of ours. Like their Tongue is the Genius of their Poets, light and trifling in comparison of the English; more proper for Sonnets, Madrigals, and Elegies, than Heroick Poetry. The turn on Thoughts and Words is their chief Talent, but the Epick Poem is too stately to receive those little Ornaments. The Painters draw their Nymphs in thin and airy Habits, but the weight of Gold and of Embroideries is reserv'd for Queens and Goddesses. Virgil is never frequent in those Turns, like Ovid, but much more sparing of them in his Æneis, than in his Pastorals and Georgicks:
Ignoscenda quidem, scirent si ignoscere manes.
That turn is Beautiful indeed; but he employs it in the Story of Orpheus and Eurydice, not in his great Poem. I have us'd that License in his Æneis sometimes: but I own it as my fault. 'Twas given to those who understand no better. Tis like Ovid's
Semivirumque bovem, semibovemque virum.
