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If she inquire the names of conquer'd kings,
Of mountains, rivers, and their hidden springs;
Answer to all thou know'st; and, if need be,
Of things unknown seem to speak knowingly:
This is Euphrates, crown'd with reeds: and there
Flows the swift Tigris, with his sea-green hair.
Invent new names of things unknown before;
Call this Armenia, that the Caspian shore;
Call this a Mede, and that a Parthian youth;
Talk probably no matter for the truth."
Supposed by BUDGELL.

No. 603. WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1714.

Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.

VIRG. Ecl. viii. ver. 68.

-Restore, my charms,

My ling'ring Daphnis to my longing arms.

DRYDEN.

THE following copy of verses comes from one of my correspondents, and has something in it so original, that I do not much doubt but it will divert my readers.

My time, O ye Muses, was happily spent,

*

When Phoebe went with me wherever I went;
Ten thousand sweet pleasures I felt in my breast;
Sure never fond shepherd like Colin was blest!
But now she is gone, and has left me behind,
What a marvellous change on a sudden I find!
When things were as fine as could possibly be,
I thought 'twas the spring; but, alas! it was she.

With such a companion, to tend a few sheep,
To rise up and play, or to lie down and sleep,

This Phoebe was Joanna, daughter of Dr. Richard Bentley, arch-deacon and prebendary of Ely, regius professor and master of Trinity College, Cambridge, who died in 1742. She was afterwards married to Dr. Dennison Cumberland, Bishop of Clonfert in Killaloe in Ireland, and grandson of Dr. Richard Cumberland, Bishop of Peterborough,

I was so good-humour'd, so cheerful and gay,
My heart was as light as a feather all day.
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown,
So strangely uneasy as ever was known.

My fair-one is gone, and my joys are all drown'd,
And my heart-I am sure it weighs more than a pound.

The fountain that wont to run sweetly along,
And dance to soft murmurs the pebbles among,
Thou know'st, little Cupid, if Phoebe was there,
'Twas pleasure to look at, 'twas music to hear:
But now she is absent, I walk by its side,
But still as it murmurs do nothing but chide;
Must you be so cheerful while I go in pain?:
Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.

"When my lambkins around me would oftentimes play, And when Phoebe and I were as joyful as they,

How pleasant their sporting, how happy their time,
When spring, love, and beauty, were all in their prime? -
But now in their frolics when by me they pass,

I fling at their fleeces an handful of grass;

Be still, then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad,
To see you so merry while I am so sad..

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My dog, I was ever well pleased to see
Come wagging his tail to my fair-one and me;
And Phoebe was pleas'd too, and to my dog said,
Come hither, poor fellow; and patted his head.
But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour look
Cry, Sirrah; and give him a blow with my crook:
And I'll give him another; for why should not Tray
Be as dull as his master, when Phoebe's away?

When walking with Phoebe, what sights I have seen? How fair was the flower, how fresh was the green! What a lovely appearance the trees and the shade, The corn fields and hedges, and every thing made? But now she has left me, though all are still there, They none of them now so delightful appear: 'Twas nought but the magic, I find, of her eyes, Made so many beautiful prospects arise.

'Sweet music went with us both all the wood thro', The lark, linnet, throstle, and nightingale too; Winds over us whisper'd, flocks by us did bleat, And chirp went the grasshopper under our feet.

But now she is absent, though still they sing on.
The woods are but lonely, the melody's gone:
Her voice in the concert, as now I have found,
Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable sound.

Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?

Does aught of its sweetness the blossom beguile ?
That meadow, those daisies, why do they not smile?
Ah! rivals, I see what it was that you drest
And made yourselves fine for; a place in her breast:
You put on your colours to pleasure her eye,
To be pluck'd by her hand, on her bosom to die.

How slowly Time creeps, till my Phoebe return?
While amidst the soft Zephyr's cool breezes I burn ;
Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread,

I could breathe on his wings, and 'twould melt down the lead.

Fly swifter, ye minutes, bring hither my dear,
And rest so much longer for't when she is here.
Ah, Colin! old Time is full of delay,

Nor will budge one foot faster for all you can say.

'Will no pitying power that hears me complain, Or cure my disquiet or soften my pain?

To be cur'd, thou must, Colin, thy passion remove;
But what swain is so silly to live without love?
No, Deity, bid the dear nymph to return,
For ne'er was poor shepherd so sadly forlorn.
Ah! what shall I do? I shall die with despair!
Take heed, all ye swains, how ye love one so fair."

BYROM.

No. 604. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1714.

Tu ne quæsieris (scire nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi,
Finem Dii dederint, Leuconoe; nec Babylonios

Tentaris numeros

HOR. Od. xi. 1. 1. ver. 1.

Ah, do not strive too much to know,

My dear Luconoe,

What the kind gods design to do

With me and thee.

CREECH.

THE desire of knowing future events is one of the

Indeed an

strongest inclinations in the mind of man. ability of foreseeing probable accidents is what, in the language of men, is called wisdom and prudence ; but not satisfied with the light that reason holds out, mankind hath endeavoured to penetrate more compendiously into futurity. Magic, oracles, omens, lucky hours, and the various arts of superstition, owe their rise to this powerful cause. As this principle is founded in self-love, every man is sure to be solicitous in the first place about his own fortune, the course of his life, and the time and manner of his death.

If we consider that we are free agents, we shall discover the absurdity of such inquiries. One of our actions, which we might have performed or neglected, is the cause of another that succeeds it, and so the whole chain of life is linked together. Pain, poverty, or infamy, are the natural product of vicious and imprudent acts, as the contrary blessings are of good ones; so that we cannot suppose our lot to be determined without impiety. A great enhancement of pleasure arises from its being unexpected; and pain is doubled by being foreseen. Upon all these, and several other accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this portion bestowed on us; to adore the hand that hath fitted every thing to our nature, and hath not more displayed his goodness in our knowledge than in our ignorance.

It is not unworthy observation, that superstitious inquir ies into future events prevail more or less, in proportion to the improvement of liberal arts and useful knowledge

in the several parts of the world. Accordingly, we find that magical incantations remain in Lapland; in the more remote parts of Scotland they have their second sight *; and several of our own countrymen have seen abundance of fairies. In Asia this credulity is strong: and the greatest part of refined learning there consists in the knowledge of amulets, talismans, ocult numbers, and the like.

When I was at Grand Cairo, I fell into the acquaintance of a good-natured Mussulman, who promised me many good offices which he designed to do me when he became prime minister, which was a fortune bestowed on his imagination by a doctor very deep in the curious sciences. At his repeated solicitations I went to learn my destiny of this wonderful sage. For a small sum I had his promise, but was desired to wait in a dark apartment until he had run through the preparatory ceremonies. Having a strong propensity, even then, to dreaming, I took a nap upon the sofa where I was placed, and had the following vision, the particulars whereof I picked up the other day among my papers.

I found myself in an unbounded plain, where methought the whole world, in several habits and with different tongues, was assembled The multitude glided swiftly along, and I found in myself a strong inclination to mingle in the train. My eyes quickly singled out some of the most splendid figures. Several in rich caftans and glittering turbans bustled through the throng, and trampled over the bodies of those they threw down; until, to my great surprise, I found that the great pace they went only hastened them to a scaffold or a bowstring. Many beautiful damsels on the other side moved forward with great gaiety; some danced until they fell all along; and others painted their faces until they lost their noses. A tribe of creatures with busy looks falling into a fit of laughter at the misfortunes of the unhappy ladies, I turned my eyes upon them. They were each of them filling his pockets with gold and jewels; and, when there was no room left for more, these wretches, looking round with

* D. Beattie, in his "Essays," 4to. edit. p. 480 et seq. has some excellent remarks on this visionary faculty.

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