What I have said suggests a capital rule for reaching the sublime in such works of art as are susceptible of it; and that is, to put in view those parts or circumstances only which make the greatest figure, keeping out of sight every thing that is low or trivial. Such judicious selection of capital circumstances, is by an eminent critic styled _grandeur of manner_[61]. The mind, from an elevation inspired by important objects, cannot, without reluctance, be forced down to bestow any share of its attention upon trifles. In none of the fine arts is there so great scope for this rule as in poetry, which, by that means, enjoys a remarkable power of bestowing upon objects and events an air of grandeur. When we are spectators, every minute object presents itself in its order. But in describing at second hand, these are laid aside, and the capital objects are brought close together. A judicious taste in selecting, after this manner, the most interesting incidents to give them an united force, accounts for a fact which at first sight may appear surprising, that we are more moved by a poetical narrative at second hand, than when we are spectators of the event itself in all its circumstanccs. Longinus exemplifies the foregoing rule by a comparison of two passages[62]. The first from Aristæus is thus translated. Ye pow’rs, what madness! how on ships so frail (Tremendous thought!) can thoughtless mortals sail? For stormy seas they quit the pleasing plain, Plant woods in waves and dwell amidst the main. Far o’er the deep (a trackless path) they go, And wander oceans in pursuit of wo. No ease their hearts, no rest their eyes can find, On heaven their looks, and on the waves their mind. Sunk are their spirits, while their arms they rear, And gods are wearied with their fruitless prayer. The other from Homer I shall give in Pope’s translation. Bursts as a wave that from the cloud impends, And swell’d with tempests on the ship descends. White are the decks with foam: the winds aloud Howl o’er the masts, and sing through every shrowd. Pale, trembling, tir’d, the sailors freeze with fears, And instant death on every wave appears. In the latter passage, the most striking circumstances are selected to fill the mind with the grand and terrible. The former is a collection of minute and low circumstances, which scatter the thought and make no impression. The passage at the same time is full of verbal antitheses and low conceit, extremely improper in a scene of distress. But this last observation is made occasionally only, as it belongs not to the present subject. The following passage from the twenty-first book of the Odyssey, deviates widely from the rule above laid down. It concerns that part of the history of Penelope and her suitors, in which she is made to declare in favour of him who should prove the most dexterous in shooting with the bow of Ulysses.