As the heroic poem is required to be one whole, compounded of many various parts, relative and dependent; it is expedient that not one of those parts should be so regularly contrived, and so completely finished, as to become a whole of itself. For the mind, being once satisfied in arriving at the consummation of an orderly series of events, acquiesces in that satisfaction. Our attention and curiosity are in the midst diverted from pursuing, with due vigour, the final and general catastrophe. But while each part is left incomplete, if separated from the rest, the mind still eager to gratify its expectations, is irresistibly and imperceptibly drawn from part to part, 'till it receives a full and ultimate satisfaction from the accomplishment of one great event, which all those parts, following and illustrating each other, contributed to produce.

Our author was probably aware, that by

constituting twelve several adventures for twelve several heroes, the want of a general connexion would often appear. On this account, as I presume, he sometimes resumes and finishes in some distant book, a tale formerly begun and left imperfect. But as numberless interruptions necessarily intervene, this proceeding often occasions infinite perplexity to the reader. And it seems to be for the same reason, that after one of the twelve Knights had achieved the adventure of his proper book, the poet introduces him, in the next book, acting perhaps in, an inferior sphere, and degraded to some less dangerous exploit. But this conduct is highly inartificial for it destroys that repose which the mind feels after having accompanied a hero, through manifold struggles and various distresses, to success and victory. Besides, when we perceive him entering upon any less illustrious attempt, our former admiration is in some measure diminished, Having

seen him complete some memorable conquest, we become interested in his honour, and are jealous concerning his future reputation. To attempt, and even to achieve, some petty posterior enterprise, is to derogate from his dignity, and to sully the transcendent lustre of his former victories.

Spenser perhaps would have embarrassed himself and the reader less, had he made every book one entire detached poem of twelve cantos, without any reference to the rest. Thus he would have written twelve different books, in each of which he might have completed the pattern of a particular virtue in twelve Knights respectively: at present he has remarkably failed, in endeavouring to represent all the virtues exemplified in one. The poet might either have established twelve Knights, without an Arthur, or an Arthur without twelve Knights. Upon supposition that Spenser was resolved to characterize the

twelve moral virtues, the former plan perhaps would have been best: the latter is defective as it necessarily wants simplicity. It is an action consisting of twelve actions, all equally great and unconnected between themselves, and not compounded of one uninterrupted and coherent chain of incidents, tending to the accomplishment of one design.

I have before remarked, that Spenser intended to express the character of a hero perfected in the twelve moral virtues, by representing him as assisting in the service of all, till at last he becomes possessed of all. This plan, however injudicious, he certainly was obliged to observe. But in the third book, which is styled the Legend of Chastity, Prince Arthur does not so much as lend his assistance in the vindication of that virtue. He appears indeed; but not as an agent, or even an auxiliary, in the adventure of the book.

Yet it must be confessed, that there is something artificial in the poet's manner of varying from historical precision. This conduct is rationally illustrated by himself*. According to this plan, the reader would have been agreeably surprised in the last book, when he came to discover that the series of adventures, which he had just seen completed, were undertaken at the command of the Fairy Queen; and that the Knights had severally set forward to the execution of them, from her annual birth-day festival. But Spenser, in most of the books, has injudiciously forestalled the first of these particulars; which certainly should have been concealed 'till the last book, not only that a needless repetition of the same thing might be prevented, but that an opportunity might. be secured of striking the reader's mind with a circumstance new and unexpected.

* Letter to Sir W. Raleigh.