----_Horrificis juxta tonat Ætna ruinis: Interdumque atram prorumpit ad æthera nubem, Turbine fumantem piceo, & candente favilla, Attollitque globos flammarum, & sidera lambit. Interdum scopulos, avulsaque viscera montis, Erigit eructans, liquefactaque saxa sub auras Cum gemitu glomerat, fundoque exæstuat imo._
But _Ætna_ thunders nigh In dreadful Ruins. With a Whirlwind's Force Sometimes it throws to Heav'n a pitchy Cloud, Redden'd with Cinders, and involv'd in Smoke; And tosses Balls of Flame, and licks the Stars. Sometimes with loud Explosion high it hurls Vast Rocks, and Entrails from the Mountain torn, With roaring Noise slings molten Stones in Air, And boils, and bellows, from its lowest Caves.
Upon the whole, we may draw this Conclusion, that Things of common Use or Necessity, lose all their Wonder, by their Frequency; but whatever is unusual, and beyond the Course of Nature, strikes our Attention, and calls forth our Admiration.
I before observ'd, and therefore need not insist upon it farther here, that the opposite to _Sublime_ is _Bombast_ and _Fustian_. I observ'd likewise, that the _Sublime_ was not incompatible with the _plain_ Style, tho' chiefly adapted to the _Heroic_, and produc'd Examples of both; for what I said in Relation to Style, I told you, in the Beginning of this Dissertation, was _sometimes_ applicable to Thought. I would now add, that 'tis a great Mistake to think that the _Sublime_ is only, or chiefly suited to Joy, Triumphs, and pompous Descriptions; for nothing has more of that Quality than those Ideas that command _Pity_ and _Terror_. I shall produce one, but a very remarkable Instance of each, taken almost from the same Place. _Turnus_, when his Forces were defeated, and his own Death approaching, dissuades his Sister _Juturna_ from any farther fruitless Offices of her Love, in this Heroical Complaint:
[211]----_Sed quis olympo. Demissam tantos voluit te ferre labores? An fratris miseri letum ut crudele videres? Nam quid ago? aut quæ nunc spondet fortuna salutem? Vidi oculos ante ipse meos me voce vocantem Murranum, quo non superat mihi charior alter, Oppetere ingentem, atque ingenti vulnere victum. Occidit infelix, ne nostrum dedecus Ufens Aspiceret: Teucri potiuntur corpore, & armis. Exscindine domos (id rebus defuit unum) Perpetiar? dextra nec Drancis dicta refellam? Terga dabo? & Turnum fugientem hæc terra videbit? Usque adeone mori miserum est? Vos ô mihi, Manes, Este boni; quoniam Superis aversa voluntas. Sancta ad vos anima, atque istius inscia culpæ Descendam, magnorum haud unquam indignus avorum._ But who sent you down Dispatch'd from Heav'n, and will'd you to endure Such Labours? Was it that you might behold Your most unhappy Brother's cruel Death? For now what Measures can I take? What Hope Of new Success can any Fortune shew? Before these Eyes myself _Murranus_ saw (Than whom to me no dearer Name survives) Calling on me for Help, I saw him fall Mighty, and with a mighty Wound subdu'd. There _Ufens_ fell, unfortunate, nor liv'd To see our Shame: The _Trojan_ Victors keep The full Possession of his Corps and Arms. Shall I endure (that only now remains) The City to be raz'd? Nor with my Sword Refel the Taunts of _Drances_? Shall I shew My Back? And shall this Earth see _Turnus_ fly? Is Death so terrible? Ye Gods of Hell, Be kind; since those of Heav'n abhor my Pray'r. To you a guiltless Ghost I will descend, Unsully'd with this Stain, nor ever prov'd Unworthy of my great Forefather's Fame.