Altho', Gentlemen, I am sensible of the Obligation you have laid upon me, by making Choice of me to fill this Office, esteeming it an Honour to receive Commands, much more Favours from so venerable a Body; yet I must own myself under some Concern, when I consider that I enter into a Province unattempted by others, and wherein I have no Footsteps to guide me. For so it has happen'd, that tho' all other Sciences the World can boast of, have had their Instructors and Professors in this most flourishing University; Poetry alone, neglected, as it were, and overlook'd, has hitherto wanted Schools for her Reception. 'Twas much, indeed, that in the very Seat of the Muses that Art shou'd have found none, which the Muses esteem above all others, and claim as their peculiar Property: With You it has always been its Choice to live, and with You it always has liv'd; but has wanted, however, a fix'd Habitation, and (if I may speak more poetically) has wander'd here among other Sciences, as Delos, Apollo's native Place, did among the Ægean Islands, till that excellent Gentleman, whose Munificence I now commemorate, like another Apollo, fix'd its Situation, and honour'd it with an Establishment.

But to omit these imaginary Flights, and to represent Things without any Colouring, What Thanks are due to him, who has render'd himself a perpetual MÆcenas, not only to Poets, but to Poetry itself; who has bestow'd Honours upon that Art, which adds the greatest to whatever is meritorious; who has prescribed it Laws, and secured to it a Patrimony? But still without a Patrimony it had almost been, if the reverend and worthy Trustees[1] of the Muses Legacy had not to the Patron's Benevolence contributed no small Assistance of their own, and deserved little less Praise by receding from their Due, than the other, by his original Settlement. One of them[2], especially, who, as he is himself no small Part of our University, and of that venerable Assembly, and has an Intercourse with both, makes use of it to promote Good-will and Friendship mutually between them. How near had the Poetical Revenues been lost, if they had not been in the Hands of Men therefore the most zealous for Learning and the University, because they were adorned with the Insignia of each? If these good Men reject our Praises, at least let them permit us to return our Thanks. To the Living, then, we gratefully pay the Tribute of Gratitude; to the Deceased, whose Gift they augmented, that of Glory.

He well knew that Poetry did not boast so much of her learned Poverty (noted even to a Proverb) as utterly to reject all Acquisitions. He knew, moreover, that it was no less capable of Rules than other Arts, and no less deserving of them; that it proceeded upon certain Principles, which were founded upon Truth and right Reason; that our Master Aristotle, who has accurately treated of the other Sciences, and whose Authority we follow in them all, had bestowed likewise some of his Pains on this, and has left upon no Subject greater Monuments, either of Extent of Genius, or of Care and Application.

They therefore lie under a great Mistake, that think Poetry suited only to the Theatre, and would have it banished from the Schools, as of too unbounded a Nature to submit to the Regulation of Precept. Rage, indeed, is its Property; but a Rage altogether divine; not deviating from Reason, but rendering it more ornamental and sublime. It may be said, likewise, to be a Fire; not like our consuming ones, but like those of the celestial Orbs above, that have not only the Qualities of Heat and Brightness, but maintaining one uniform Course, are carried round their Orbits at once with equal Swiftness and Regularity.

We see, then, it is no Absurdity to have Rules prescribed to this Art. And what could have been thought of, of so delicate and refined a Nature, as the Office of prescribing them? What more worthy of an University to accept, or a Courtier to appoint? A Courtier, I say, for in the City he was an Ornament to the Court; as in the University he was to that House, which has always had the Credit of abounding, and we still have the Comfort of seeing it abound with Gentlemen of the most distinguish'd Wit, Birth, and good Manners. I am sure no Gift could have been more becoming a Friend of the Muses to bestow, and he was not only an Admirer, but an Intimate of them; not only a Lover of their Art, but a skilful Practitioner in it; nor could any one so properly make Poetry his Heir, as a Poet.

He knew, by Experience, that no Pleasure was equal to the reading ancient Poets, except that of imitating them. Happy they, that can partake of both; but the former ought to be the Employment of all, that desire to have any Taste for Letters, or Politeness. Some there are, however, to whom these Studies are disagreeable, and who endeavour to make them so to others: This is not owing to any Fault in Poetry, but in themselves. Formed as they are of coarse Materials, they have naturally a Disposition either slow and frozen, callous and unpolite, or harsh and morose; so, forsooth, whilst they would appear grave, as they are, they maliciously hate, or superciliously contemn these Exercises, as the great Disturbers of their Peace. They condemn what they know nothing of; and despise the Pleasure they want a Capacity to enjoy.

But if at least they pay any Deference to Antiquity (and with these Men nothing uses to be more sacred, looking upon every Thing with the greater Veneration, the more antient it is) they ought on this Account to allow the Art we are speaking of its due Honours. For not to urge that Poetry is coeval with the World itself, and that the Creator may be said in working up and finishing his beautiful Poem of the Universe, to have performed the Part of a Poet, no less than of a Geometrician[3]; it is well known, that those Books have had the greatest Sanction from Time, that have been dictated by God, or writ by Poets. Those, as it is fit, have the Precedence: But these follow at no very great Distance.

Nay, why should we make this Difference between the sacred Writers and Poets, since the sacred Writers were most of them Poets; on both Accounts deservedly called Vates (a Word expressing either Character) and acted by no feigned Inspiration? That the Devils then, heretofore, usurping the Title of Gods, gave out their Oracles in Verse, was owing wholly to their imitating, in this, as well as in other Particulars, the true God, that so they might gain Honour and Reverence from their Votaries. If in the Poems of Job, and David, and the other sacred Authors, we observe the inexpressible Sublimity of their Words and Matter; their elegant, and more than human Descriptions; the happy Boldness of their Metaphors; their spiritual Ardour breathing Heaven, and winging the Souls of their Readers up to it, triumphing, as it were, by a royal Authority, over the narrow Rules of mortal Writers, it is impossible but we must in Transport own, that nothing is wanting in them, that might be expected from the Strength of Poetry heighten'd by the Energy of Inspiration.

If this, then, be the Case, who would not wonder at the Ignorance or Baseness of those, who rashly reproach an Art with Impiety, which has the Honour of being not only pleasing to God, but taught and dictated by him. 'Tis true, Poetry, as well as Religion, has, by Length of Time, been corrupted with Fables; but this is no more to be imputed to the one than the other; and we can only from hence complain, that by the Depravity of Mankind the best of Things are most liable to Corruption.

Nor is it any more owing to the Art itself, that it is sometimes polluted by obscene Writers: To them alone the Infamy redounds: The Chastity of Poetry is violated like a Virgin's, and tho' it seems to be the Instrument of doing an Injury to Virtue, yet Virtue is not more a Sufferer than she is. She acts in her proper Sphere, when, with her native Purity, she discovers the true Attractives of Virtue, nor disguises Vice with false ones; when she inflames the Mind of Man with the Love of Goodness, recounts the Works of the Almighty, and sets forth all his Praises. Undoubtedly, as the divine and sister Sciences, Poetry and Music, owe their Origin to Heaven; they love to be employed about heavenly Things; thither they tend by their native Force, and, like Fire, seek those blessed Abodes from whence they first descended.

Since Poetry, then, is so venerable, both for its Antiquity, and its Religion; they are no less to blame, who look upon it as a trifling Amusement, an Exercise for Boys only, or young Men. The Injustice of this Calumny is plain from hence, that a good Proficient in this kind of Writing must not only excel in Wit, Elegance, and Brightness; but must be endowed with the maturest Judgment, and furnished with all sorts of Literature. He must, in Truth, turn over the Annals of Time, and Monuments of History; he must trace the Situation of Countries, understand the different Manners of Nations; the Actions and Passions of Mankind in general, must explore the inmost Recesses of the Mind, and secret Avenues to them; survey the whole System of the Universe; in short, make himself Master of all Nature. Who cannot but see and admire the Learning of Homer and Horace; in Virgil especially, his almost universal Extent of Knowledge in both sorts of Philosophy, in History, Geography, and the chief of all Science, Mathematicks? In Lucretius we see how perfectly Natural Philosophy and Poetry agree; and how properly these Schools of ours are appropriated to both: Nor have the severest Philosophers Reason to complain, that the Company of the one reflects the least Dishonour on the other.

This I am sure they have not, if we duly consider the Nature of this admirable Art; from whence it will appear to contain whatever is great or beautiful in Prose, and besides to be distinguished by its own proper Ornaments; which it abundantly displays, whilst it pleases our Ears, and ravishes our Souls with its Harmony; whilst it strongly imprints in our Minds the Images of the Things it represents; by a becoming Fiction sets off Truth to Advantage, and renders it more amiable; and by a decent Liberty keeps those Laws it seems to violate.

Another Reason of its Contempt, at least of the Abatement of its Esteem, is, that there are such Numbers of Writers, who give Offence to Men of Learning, by affecting the Title of Poets. This is a Fact we are very sensible of, and lament: I know not how it is, there's no sort of Learning to which more apply themselves, or fewer attain. Innumerable Pretenders there are, who, in spite of Genius and Nature, are daily troubling the World with their wretched Performances; who write Verse often, that scarce attempt to write any Thing else, and venture upon the most difficult of all Studies, that are unfit for any. This profane Mob of Poetasters are deservedly to be condemned, that arrogate to themselves the Credit of a Title, that no ways belongs to them; and which is due only to those who are of elevated Genius, and Souls divine. But so far is this from fixing any true Mark of Infamy on our Art, that it ought to redound to its Credit. For in this its native Excellence appears, that it is a Mistress, to whom all by natural Impulse, as it were, pay their Addresses, tho' there are so few, upon whom she bestows her Favours. Thus Wit, Wisdom, and Religion, have each those amiable Colours, in which all Mankind endeavour to appear.

Nor need we wonder it meets with such Esteem, since it excels all other Sciences, by mixing so agreeably Pleasure with Advantage. For it is found experimentally true, that by reading the ancient Poets, but especially by imitating them, the Mind is polish'd, enlivened, and enlarged; is enriched with a Stock of various Erudition, as well sacred as profane; with such Plenty of lofty Ideas, and lively Expressions, as is no small Addition to the Eloquence of even Prose itself. This no one will deny, that pays any Deference to Cicero's Opinion or Authority; who ingenuously tells us he owes no small Assistance to the Poets, runs out largely in their Praises, and seems to give them the first Place among the Learned. "We are told, says he[4], by Men of the greatestLearning, that the Science of all other Things depends upon Precepts and Art; but a Poet on Nature alone; that he is formed by the Force of Genius, and inspired, as it were, with somewhat of Divinity." This Topick he defends, and expatiates upon, with such Warmth, that Oratory seems never to have shone out brighter, or to have been more pleased with its own Force, than when it was employed in the Praise of Poetry.

But farther, it ought by all Means to be encouraged, because it raises the Mind to Virtue and Honour, by delivering down the Examples of great Men to Immortality. It not only celebrates Heroes, but makes them; and by lively Copies produces new Originals. What, in short, is it else, but the utmost Effort of the Mind of Man, that tries all its Nerves, while it infuses into it a Tincture of universal Learning temper'd with the greatest Sweetness. For its Votaries it affects with no small Pleasure, which its infinite Variety abundantly supplies. Oratory, like a River with all its Pomp of Water, confines its Waves within its own Banks; but Poetry, like the Ocean, diffuses itself, by a Variety of Channels, into Rivers, Fountains, and the remotest Springs. What can be more delightful, than to take a Survey of Things, Places, and Persons; what more elegant, than to see them represented in beautiful Pictures? Who is not charm'd with the humorous Turns of Epigram, the Softness of Elegy, the bantering Wit of one sort of Satire, the Anger of the other, the Keenness and Poignancy of both? And yet still more the Ode affects us with its daring Colours, its lofty Conceptions, its Choice of Expression, its agreeable Variety of Numbers, and (what is the distinguishing Character of the Lyrics) that Luxuriancy of Thought, conducted with the severest Judgment, by which it now and then expatiates into new Matter, connects Things it seem'd to separate, and falls by Chance, as it were, into its first Subject. Who is there that does not with Pleasure survey an Epitome of the World in the Dramatic Poets? The Life, Humours, and Customs of Mankind represented in Comedy; in Tragedy the tumultuous Passions of the Great, the Turns of Fortune and wonderful Catastrophes, the Punishment of Villainy and Rewards of Virtue, and sometimes the Misfortunes of good Men? Who, I say, is not affected with Pleasure, whether he laughs or weeps with them? For such is the Force of Poetry, that it makes us pleased with our Tears, and from Sorrow extorts Satisfaction. But far beyond all this, is the Epic Poem, that farthest Extent of the human Soul, the utmost Bounds of Study, and the Pillars, beyond which the Labours of the Mind can never pass. So abundant is it, that, besides its own peculiar Excellence, than which nothing can be greater, it comprehends within its Sphere all other Kinds of Poetry whatever; and is in this Art what the Organ is in Music, which with various Pipes, inflated with the same Breath, charms us not only with its own Harmony, but represents that of every other Instrument.

These are not Beauties only in Theory; we have Authors that have shone in each of these Branches of Poetry: Thus Martial pleases with his tart Facetiousness, Catullus with his sound Wit, tho' his Verse is sometimes a little harsh; Ovid, Tibullus, and Propertius, with their Ease and Fluency in both. The Man that does not admire the Boldness of Juvenal's Spirit, the Richness of his poetic Vein, and his fearless Rage in Satire; may he never love, may he never know the genteel and courtly Turns, the pleasant Sneers, the severe, and yet inviting Precepts of Virtue, the Remarks on common Life made with the greatest Penetration, Judgment, and Wisdom, with which the Satires of Horace, and especially his Epistles, are replete. In this kind of Writing, as we prefer him before all others; so in Lyric Poetry he stands not only first, but alone. With Regard to Comedy, if there were nothing remaining but what Terence has left us, viz. that Chasteness of Style, that never-failing Fund of Wit and Judgment, that Humour clear of vulgar Jests, those beautiful Images of Mankind and Nature, that exquisite Artifice in working up Plots, and unfolding them; we should ever have Reason to praise the Art and the Poet. If Tragedy has receiv'd but small Ornaments from the Latin Writers, as far as they have come to our Hands; by the Greeks that Loss has been abundantly compensated. Witness the Thunder and Vigour of Sophocles, the Grandeur and sententious Gravity of Euripides, the Art of both, with which they command the Affections of their Readers, and call forth Pity or Terror at Pleasure.

The Nature and Limits of this Discourse will not allow me even to touch upon the Characters of all the other Greek and Latin Writers that have excell'd in the several Species of Poetry. One, however, it would be unpardonable to omit, who as he is the greatest of all (not Homer himself excepted) may not improperly bring up the Rear of this shining Host, the immortal Virgil, I mean, beyond all Praises, in all Respects compleat. Who is not in Love with the plain and unaffected Beauty of his Eclogues, the finish'd and chaste Elegance of his Georgics, and in them the entertaining Descriptions with which they abound, with the Variety of their Expressions, the Usefulness of their Precepts in Husbandry, and their noble Excursions, upon every proper Occasion, into Subjects of a sublimer Nature? But the divine Æneid who can turn over without Transport, without being lost, as it were, in a happy Mixture of Joy and Wonder? Who can help being astonish'd at that Fire of Imagination temper'd with so cool a Judgment, such Strength united with so much Beauty? To nothing this Work can with Justice be compar'd, unless to that, whose Duration will have the same Period, the great Machine of the Universe. For where shall we find, in any human Composition, so exact a Harmony between the several Parts, and so much Beauty in each of them; such an infinite Fecundity of Matter, without the least Exuberance of Style, or Crowding of Incidents? It would be an endless Attempt to recount the different Images of Heroes, and other Personages that appear up and down in it, the Variety of Manners, the Conflict of Passions, almost every Object of the Imagination beautifully described, all Nature unfolded, the great Events, the unexpected Revolutions, the Incentives to Virtue; in the several Speeches the most finish'd Eloquence; in the Thoughts and Expressions the sublimest Majesty; in short, the most consummate Art, by which all these Things are brought into one uniform Piece?

After the mention of Virgil and those other great Names, Silence only should ensue; but that our Oration naturally addresses itself to him, to whose Indulgence this Liberty of speaking in the Praise of Virgil, and those other great Names, is owing; our most worthy Vice-chancellor[5], I mean, who has brought to Light this Poetic Legacy, which had been buried, as it were, for many Years in Oblivion, and has at length placed it upon a Foundation that will make it perpetual. Such Attainments, Sir, have you made in your Study of the publick Welfare! 'tis thus you make us sensible that none are so faithful and diligent Dispensers of others Bounty, as the Bountiful! I shall not enter into a Detail of the other Virtues, that make up your Character: My Business was to mention that only which relates to our present Function: Permit us, however, to wish you Length of Days in this World, that such Thanks may in Time be due to you, as may exceed the Power of Poetry itself to pay.