In 1656 Abraham Cowley published his Pindarique Odes, a collection of 15 poems emulating Pindar’s grand manner. It was a bold experiment. No less an authority than Horace had warned poets of the sad fate of anyone who attempted to rival Pindar ( Odes 4.2). For Cowley, though, the style was an end in itself. Its long digressions, bold figures, and irregular meters were thought to mimic poetic fury. The new Pindaric ode was the artificial expression of overpowering feeling.
The ode was easily reconciled to neoclassical theory. No one could deny that strong passions were natural, so there must be a poetically appropriate articulation of such feelings. And Pindar himself sanctioned the attempt. As a result, most of the important poets of the day tried their hand at the ode’s irregular measures and heightened tone. Dryden was undoubtedly the most successful. He tended to reserve the genre for special occasions calling for strong emotions, like the death of the young painter and poet Anne Killigrew. The ode also became the conventional form for writing about music, which, according to Renaissance theory, had an almost irresistible power to sway the passions. Two of Dryden’s finest odes, A Song for St. Cecilia’s Day (1687) and Alexander’s Feast (1697), are in this subgenre and were in fact written for musical accompaniment.
To modern readers, though, the Pindarics of the age seem stiff and artificial. Their diction is often conventional rather than immediate, and even the emotion generally seems contrived. Indeed, they were so out of keeping with the genius of the day that they betray less spontaneity and passion - the presumed justification for their form - than a satire by Boileau or an epistle by Pope.
World History
