1771.

elevation of his theme to the epic rank. The machinery employed, the similes used, are those in which the epic poets Et. 43. claim a peculiar property. Yet, at the same time, so closely are the most intricate and masterly moves of chess expressed in the various fortunes of the combatants, in the penalties that await their rashness or the success that attends their stratagems, that Pope Leo thought the ignorant might derive a knowledge of the game from Vida's hexameters alone.

66

Whether or not Goldsmith had any personal skill at chess, I have not been able to discover; but that he was not entirely ignorant of it may be presumed from the facility and elegance of his paraphrase. When Mr. George Jeffreys translated the same poem, and asked Pope's opinion of its execution, the poet thought it unbecoming to deliver his opinion “upon a subject to which he is a stranger;' "* but perhaps this was the civil avoidance of a disagreeable request, for what knowledge of the subject, more than Vida himself possessed, should his translator, or the critic of his translator, require? Nevertheless there may be enough in Pope's remark to favour the presumption of some acquaintance with the game in any one who should undertake such a labour of love connected with it, and it is strengthened by the confidence

* I quote from the preface to Father Francis and Sister Constance, a Poem from a Story in the Spectator. And Chess, a Poem translated into English from Vida. By George Jeffreys, Esq. (quarto, 1736). The four opening lines by Mr. Jeffreys run thus:

"A sportive image of the martial rage,

And war which two fictitious monarchs wage,
Their boxen troops inspir'd by thirst of praise,
And party-colour'd arms invite my lays."

How inferior to the ease and spirit of Goldsmith !
"Armies of box that sportively engage,
And mimick real battels in their rage,
Pleas'd I recount; how, smit with glory's charms,
Two mighty Monarchs met in adverse arms,
Sable and white."

1771.

Et. 43.

and freedom of Goldsmith's verse. There is even something in the note which he appends to the conclusion of his labour that might appear as if written by one familiar with chess. "Archers," he says, referring to Vida's verse, "are "what we call Bishops; Horse are what we call Knights; Elephants are what we call Tow'rs, Castles, or Rooks. Apollo has ye white men, Mercury ye black."

But before these Deities of the strife are introduced, let us marshal in due precedence the opposing forces.

Equal y strength & number of each foe,
Sixteen appear'd like jet, sixteen like snow.
As their Shape varies various is y' name,
Diff'rent their posts, nor is their strength ye same.
There might you see two Kings with equal pride
Gird on their arms, their Consorts by their side;
Here ye Foot-warriours glowing after fame,
There prancing Knights & dextrous Archers came,
And Elephants, that on their backs sustain
Vast tow'rs of war, & fill & shake yo plain.*

So mov'd ye boxen hosts, each double-lin'd,
Their diff'rent colours floating in ye wind:
As if an army of ye Gauls should go,

With their white standards o'er ye Alpine snow

To meet in rigid fight on scorching sands

The sun-burnt Moors & Memnon's swarthy bands.t

The last six lines run so close with those of Mr. Jeffreys as to provoke direct comparison, and further show the inferiority of the earlier translator :

"For here two Monarchs pair'd on either side

Raise their crown'd heads; with each a Royal Bride,

Prompt to engage; in quivers some delight;

Some hors'd, and some on foot, provoke the fight:
And here, for war in India's clime renown'd

The tower-sustaining Elephant is found."

I might in like manner pursue both translations to the close.

This is one of those passages which Pope has most directly imitated in the Game at Ombre (Rape of the Lock, canto iii. verses 81, &c.); but, as Joseph

1771.

The forces being thus brought into the field, the order of the fray is next shown, and the stated laws by which their Æt. 43. several weapons of assault or defence are subject to be controlled. Here is seen the elegant and easy art, not of the

poet simply, but of the master of the laws of the game.

To lead ye fight, ye Kings from all their bands
Choose whom they please to bear their great commands.
Should a black Hero first to battel go,

Instant a white one guards against ye blow;

But only one at once can charge or shun ye foe.

*

*

But ye great Indian beasts, whose backs sustain
Vast turrets arm'd, when on ye redd'ning plain
They join in all ye terrour of ye fight,

Forward or backward, to ye left or right

Run furious, and impatient of confine

Scour through ye field, and threat ye farthest line.

Yet must they ne'er obliquely aim their blows;

That only manner is allowed to those

Whom Mars has favour'd most, who bend ye stubborn bows.

These glancing sidewards in a straight career,

Yet each confin'd to their respective sphere

Or white or black, can send th' unerring dart

Wing'd with swift death to pierce through ev'ry part.

The fiery steed, regardless of ye reins,

Comes prancing on; but sullenly disdains

The path direct, and boldly wheeling round,

Leaps o'er a double space at ev'ry bound:

And shifts from white or black to diff'rent colour'd ground.

But y fierce Queen, whom dangers ne'er dismay,

The strength and terrour of ye bloody day,

In a straight line spreads her destruction wide,

To left or right, before, behind, aside.

Warton has not failed to point out (Essay on Poems and Writings of Pope, Ed. 1783, i. 241), masterly as Pope's lines are,

'Thus, when dispers'd a routed army runs," &c.,

the exquisite propriety of the original, which arises from the different colours of the men at chess, is lost by being transferred to the mixed and undistinguishable colours of the cards of Belinda and the Baron.

1771.

Æt. 43.

Yet may She never with a circling course
Sweep to ye battel like ye fretful horse;
But unconfin'd may at her pleasure stray,
If neither friend nor foe block up ye way:
For to o'erleap a Warriour, 'tis decreed
Those only dare, who curb ye snorting steed.
With greater caution & majestick state
The warlike Monarchs in ye scene of fate
Direct their motions, since for these appear
Zealous each hope, and anxious ev'ry fear.

The divine machinery is now set in motion. The Gods survey the forces in array, and, with their usual desire to enliven the dullness of Olympus, are anxious to engage along with them; but Jove checks and forbids them to take part on either side, and, summoning Mercury and Apollo, places the dark warriors under command of Hermes and the white under that of Phoebus, restricting the divine interference to these two, and limiting their power by the expressed regulations of the contest.

Then call'd he Phoebus from among ye Pow'rs,
And subtle Hermes, whom in softer hours
Fair Maia bore: Youth wanton'd in their face,
Both in life's bloom, both shone with equal grace.
Hermes as yet had never wing'd his feet;

As yet Apollo in his radiant seat

Had never driv'n his chariot through ye air,

Known by his bow alone & golden hair.

These Jove commissioned to attempt ye fray,

And rule ye sportive military day.

And now, as the fray proceeds under these respective leaders, it becomes the pleasant art of the poet to show you how superior in such a conflict are the sly resources of stratagem and deceit over those of a more generous and manly nature. The first advantage falls to Mercury,

and Apollo can only relieve his King at great sacrifice and loss.

Apollo sigh'd, & hast'ning to relieve

The straighten'd Monarch, griev'd that he must leave

His martial Elephant expos'd to fate,

And view'd with pitying eyes his dang'rous state.

First in his thoughts however was his care

To save his King, whom to ye neighb'ring square
On ye right hand, he snatcht with trembling flight;
At this with fury springs ye sable Knight,

Drew his keen sword, and rising to ye blow,
Sent ye great Indian brute to shades below.
O fatal loss! for none except ye Queen
Spreads such a terrour through ye bloody scene.
Yet shall you ne'er unpunisht boast your prize,

The Delian God with stern resentment cries;

And wedg'd him round with foot, and pour'd in fresh supplies.
Thus close besieg'd trembling he cast his eye

Around ye plain, but saw no shelter nigh,

No way for flight; for here ye Queen oppos'd,
The Foot in phalanx there ye passage clos'd :
At length he fell; yet not unpleas'd with fate,
Since victim to a Queen's vindictive hate.
With grief & fury burns ye whiten'd host,
One of their Tow'rs thus immaturely lost.
As when a bull has in contention stern

Lost his right horn; with double vengeance burn
His thoughts for war, with blood he's cover'd o'er,
And ye woods eccho to his dismal roar.
So lookt ye flaxen host, when angry fate
O'erturn'd ye Indian bulwark of their state.
Fir'd at this great success, with double rage
Apollo hurries on his troops t' engage,
For blood and havock wild; &, while he leads
His troops thus careless, loses both his steeds:
For if some adverse warriours were o'erthrown,
He little thought what dangers threat his own.
But slyer Hermes with observant eyes

Marcht slowly cautious, & at distance spies

What moves must next succeed, what dangers next arise.

1771.

Et. 43.