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W

HEN

I reflect upon the various fate of those multitudes of ancient writers who flourished in Greece and Italy, I consider time as an immenfe ocean in which many noble authors are intirely swallowed up, many very much shattered and damaged, some quite disjointed and broken into pieces, while some have wholly efcaped the common wreck; but the number of the last is very small.

Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto.

Virg. Æn. 1. ver. 112. "One here and there floats on the vast abyss."

Among the mutilated poets of antiquity, there is none whose fragments are so beautiful as those of Sappho. They give us a taste of her way of writing, which is perfectly conformable with that extraordinary character we find of her, in the remarks of those great critics who were converfant with her works when they were intire. One may see by what is left of them, that she followed nature in all her thoughts, without descending to those little points, conceits, and turns of wit with which many of our modern lyrics are so miferably infected. Her foul seems to have been made up of love and poetry: the felt the passion in all its warmth, and defcribed it in all its symptoms. She is called by ancient authors the tenth muse; and by Plutarch is compared to Cacus the son of Vulcan, who breathed out nothing but flame. I do not know by the character that is given of her works, whether it is not for the benefit of mankind that they are loft. They were filled with fuch bewitching tenderness and rapture, that it might have been very dangerous to have given them a reading.

An inconstant lover, called Phaon, occafioned great calamities to this poetical lady. She fell defperately in love with him, and took a voyage into Sicily, in pursuit of him, he having withdrawn himself thither on purpose to avoid her. It was in that island, and on this occafion, she is supposed to have made the hymn to Venus, with a translation of which I shall present my reader. Her hymn was ineffectual for the procuring that happiness which the prayed for in it. Phaon was still obdurate, and Sappho so transported with the violence of her passion, that she was refolved to get rid of it at any price.

There was a promontory in Acarnania called Leucate, on the top of which was a little temple dedicated to Apollo. In this temple it was usual for despairing lovers to make their vows in fecret, and afterwards to fling themselves from the top of the precipice into the sea, where they were

sometimes taken up alive. This place was therefore called, "The Lover's Leap;" and whether or no the fright they had been in, or the refolution that could push them to so dreadful a remedy, or the bruises which they often received in their fall, banished all the tender sentiments of love, and gave their spirits another turn; those who had taken this leap were observed never to relapse into that paffion. Sappho tried the cure, but perished in the experiment.

After having given this short account of Sappho, so far as it regards the following ode, I shall subjoin the tranflation of it as it was fent me by a friend, whose admirable paftorals and Winter-piece have been already fo well received. The reader will find in it that pathetic fimplicity which is so peculiar to him, and so suitable to the ode he has here tranflated. This ode in the Greek, besides those beauties observed by Madam Dacier, has feveral harmonious turns in the words, which are not loft in the English. I must farther add, that the tranflation has preserved every image and sentiment of Sappho, notwithstanding it has all the ease and spirit of an original. In a word, if the ladies have a mind to know the manner of writing practised by the so much celebrated Sappho, they may here fee it in its genuine and natural beauty, without any foreign or affected ornaments.

An HYMN to VENUS.
I.

"O Venus, beauty of the skies,
"To whom a thousand temples rise,
"Gaily false in gentle smiles,
"Full of love-perplexing wiles;
"O goddess! from my heart remove
"The wafting cares and pains of love.

II.

"If ever thou hast kindly heard "A fong in soft distress preferr'd, "Propitious to my tuneful vow, "O gentle goddess! hear me now. "Descend thou bright, immortal guest, "In all thy radiant charms confest.

III.

"Thou once didst leave almighty Jove,
" And all the golden roofs above:
"The car thy wanton sparrows drew,
"Hov'ring in air they lightly flew;
"As to my bow'r they wing'd their way,
" I saw their quiv'ring pinions play.

IV.
"The birds dismiss'd (while you remain)
"Bore baek their empty car again:
"Then you, with looks divinely mild,
"In ev'ry heav'nly feature smil'd,
"And ask'd what new complaints I made,
"And why I call'd you to my aid ?

v.

"What frenzy in my bosom rag'd, "And by what cure to be affuag'd? "What gentle youth I would allure, "Whom in my artful toils secure? "Who does thy tender heart fubdue, "Tell me, my Sappho, tell me, who?

VI.

"Tho' now he shuns thy longing arms, "He foon shall court thy flighted charms; "Tho' now thy off'rings he despise, "He foon to thee shall sacrifice; "'Tho' now he freeze, he foon shall burn, "And be thy victim in his turn.

VII. "Ce

VII.

"Celestial visitant, once more
"Thy needful presence I implore!
"In pity come and ease my grief,
"Bring my distemper'd foul relief,
"Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires,

"And give me all my heart defires.

Madam Dacier observes, there is something very pretty in that circumstance of this ode, wherein Venus is described as sending away her chariot upon her arrival at Sappho's lodgings, to denote that it was not a short tranfient visit which she intended to make her. This ode was preferved by an eminent Greek critic, who inferted it intire in his works, as a pattern of per

fection in the structure of it.

Longinus has quoted another ode of this great poetess, which is likewise admirable in its kind, and has been translated by the fame hand with the foregoing one. I shall oblige my reader with it in another paper. In the mean while, I cannot but wonder, that these two finished pieces have never been attempted before by any of our own countrymen. But the truth of it is, the compofitions of the ancients, which have not in them any of those unnatural witticisms that are the delight of ordinary readers, are extremely difficult to render into another tongue, so as the beauties of the original may not appear weak and faded in the tranflation.

N° 224. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16.
-Fulgente trabit conftrittes gloria curru
Non minùs ignotos generofis-

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HOR. Sat. 6. 1. 1. V. 23.

-Glory's shining chariot swiftly draws
With equal whirl the noble and the base.

I

CREECH.

F we look abroad upon the great multitude of mankind, and endeavour to trace out the principles of action in every individual, it will, I think, feem highly probable that ambition runs through the whole fpecies, and that every man in proportion to the vigour of his complexion is more or less actuated by it. It is indeed no uncommon thing to meet with men, who by the natural bent of their inclinations, and without the difcipline of philosophy, aspire not to the heights of power and grandeur; who never fet their hearts upon a numerous train of clients and dependencies, nor other gay appendages of greatnefs; who are contented with a competency, and will not moleft their tranquility to gain an abundance: but it is not therefore to be concluded that such a man is not ambitious: his defires may have cut out another channel, and determined, him to other pursuits; the motive however may be still the same; and in these cases likewife the man may be equally pushed on with the defire of distinction.

Though the pure confciousness of worthy actions, abstracted from the views of popular applause, be to a generous mind an ample reward, yet the defire of distinction was doubtless implanted in our natures as an additional incentive to exert ourselves in virtuous excellence.

This paffion indeed, like all others, is frequently perverted to evil and ignoble purposes; so that we may account for many of the excellencies

and follies of life upon the fame innate principle, to wit, the defire of being remarkable: for this, as it has been differently cultivated by education, study and converse, will bring forth fuitable effects as it falls in with an ingenuous disposition, or a corrupt mind; it does accordingly express itself in acts of magnanimity or selfish cunning, as it meets with a good or weak understanding. As it has been employed in embellishing the mind, or adorning the outside, it renders the man eminently praise-worthy or ridiculous. Ambition therefore is not to be confined only to one passion or pursuit; for as the same humours, in constitutions otherwise different, affect the body after different manners, so the fame afpiring principle within us fometimes breaks forth upon one object, fometimes upon another.

It cannot be doubted, but that there is as great a defire of glory in a ring of wrestlers or cudgelplayers, as in any other more refined competition for fuperiority. No man that could avoid it, would ever fuffer his head to be broken, but out of a principle of honour. This is the secret spring that pushes them forward; and the superiority which they gain above the undistinguished many, does more than repair those wounds they have received in the combat. It is Mr. Waller's opinion that Julius Cæfar, had he not been master of the Roman Empire, would in all probability have made an excellent wrestler.

"Great Julius, on the mountains bred,
"A flock perhaps or herd had led:
"He that the world fubdu'd, had been
"But the best wrestler on the green."

That he fubdued the world was owing to the accidents of art and knowledge; had he not met with those advantages, the same sparks of emulation would have kindled within him, and prompted him to diftinguish himself in fome enterprise of a lower nature. Since therefore no man's lot is so unalterably fixed in this life, but that a thousand accidents may either forward or difappoint his advancement, it is, methinks, a pleasant and inoffensive speculation, to con fider a great man as divested of all the adventitious circumstances of fortune, and to bring him down in one's imagination to that low station of life, the nature of which bears some distant resemblance to that high one he is at present poffeffed of. Thus one may view him exercising in miniature those talents of nature, which being drawn out by education to their full length, enable him for the discharge of fome important employment. On the other hand, one may raise uneducated merit to fuch a pitch of greatness, as may seem equal to the possible extent of his improved capacity.

Thus nature furnishes a man with a general appetite of glory, education determines it to this or that particular object. The desire of distinction is not, I think, in any instance more obfervable than in the variety of outsides and new appearances, which the modish part of the world are obliged to provide, in order to make themselves remarkable; for any thing glaring or particular, either in behaviour or apparel, is known to have this good effect, that it catches the eye, and will not fuffer you to pass over the person so adorned without due notice and observation. It has likewife, upon this account, been frequently resented as a very great flight, to leave any gentleman out of a lampoon or fatire, who has as much right to be

be there as his neighbour, because it supposes the person not eminent enough to be taken notice of. To this paffionate fondness for distinction are owing various frolicksome and irregular practices, as sallying out into nocturnal exploits, breaking of windows, finging of catches, beating the watch, getting drunk twice a day, killing a great number of horfes; with many other enterprises of the like fiery nature: for certainly many a man is more rakish and extravagant than he would willingly be, were there not others to look on and give their approbation.

One very common, and at the fame time the most absurd ambition that ever shewed itself in human nature, is that which comes upon a man with experience and old age, the season when it might be expected he should be wiseft; and therefore it cannot receive any of those lessening circumstances which do, in some measure, excuse the disorderly ferments of youthful blood: I mean the passion for getting money, exclufive of the character of the provident father, the afectionate husband, or the generous friend. It may be remarked, for the comfort of honeft poverty, that this defire reigns most in those who have but few good qualities to recommend them. This is a weed that will grow in a barren foil. Humanity, good-nature, and the advantages of a liberal education, are incompatible with avarice. It is strange to fee how fuddenly this abject passion kills all the noble sentiments and generous ambitions that adorn human nature; it renders the man who is over-run with it a peevish and cruel master, a severe parent, an unsociable husband, a distant and mistrustful friend. But it is more to the present purpose to confider it as an absurd passion of the heart, rather than as a vicious affection of the mind. As there are frequent instances to be met with of a proud humility, so this passion, contrary to most others, affects applause, by avoiding all show and appearance; for this reason it will not fometimes endure the common decencies of apparel. "A covetou man will calls himself poor, that " you may footh his vanity by contradicting " him." Love, and the defire of glory, as they are the most natural, so they are capable of being refined into the most delicate and rational pafsions. It is true, the wife man who strikes out of the secret paths of a private life, for honour and dignity, allured by the splendor of a court, and the unfelt weight of public employment, whether he succeeds in his attempts or no, ufually comes near enough to this painted greatness to difcern the daubing; he is then defirous of extricating himself out of the hurry of life, that he may pass away the remainder of his days in tranquility and retirement.

It may be thought then but common prudence in a man not to change a better state for a worse, nor ever to quit that which he knows he shall take up again with pleasure; and yet if human life be not a little moved with the gentle gales

of hope and fears, there may be fome danger of its stagnating in an unmanly indolence and security. It is a known story of Domitian, that after he had poffefsed himself of the Roman empire, his desires turned upon catching flies. Ac tive and masculine spirits in the vigour of youth neither can nor ought to remain at rest; if they debar themselves from aiming at a noble object, their defires will move downwards, and they 'will feel themselves actuated by some low and

abject passion. Thus if you cut off the to branches of a tree, and will not fuffer it to grow any higher, it will not therefore cease to grow, but will quickly shoot out at the bottom. The man indeed who goes into the world only with the narrow views of self-interest, who catches at the applaufe of an idle muititude, as he can find no folid contentment at the end of his journey, so he deferves to meet with disappointments in his way; but he who is actuated by a nobler principle, whose mind is so far enlarged as to take in the profpect of his country's good, who is enamoured with that praise which is one of the fair attendants of virtue, and values not those acclamations which are not feconded by the impartial testimony of his own mind; who repines not at the low station which Providence has at present allotted him, but yet would willingly advance himself by justifiable means to a more rising and advantageous ground; such a man is warmed with a generous emulation; it is a virtuous movement in him to wish and to endeavour that his power of doing good may be equal to his will.

The man who is fitted out by nature, and fent into the world with great abilities, is capable of doing great good or mischief in it. It ought therefore to be the care of education to infufe into the untainted youth early notices of juftice and honour, that so the possible advantages of good parts may not take an evil turn, nor be perverted to base and unworthy purposes. It is the business of religion and philofophy not fo much to extinguish our paffions, as to regulate and direct them to valuable well-chosen objects; when these have pointed out to us which course we may lawfully steer, it is no harm to set out all our fail; if the storms and tempests of adver fity fhould rise upon us, and not fuffer us to make the haven where we would be, it will however prove no small confolation to us in these circumstances, that we have neither mistaken our course, nor fallen into calamities of our own procuring.

Religion therefore, were we to confider it no farther than as it interposes in the affairs of this life, is highly valuable, and worthy of great veneration; as it settles the various pretensions, and otherwise interfering interests of mortal men, and thereby consults the harmony and order of the great community; as it gives a man room to play his part, and exert his abilities; as it animates to actions truly laudable in themselves, in their effects beneficial to society; as it inspires rational ambition, corrects love, and elegant defire,

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Tully has therefore very justly exposed a precept delivered by some ancient writers, that a man should live with his enemy in fuch a man ner, as might leave him room to become his friend; and with his friend in such a manner, that if he became his enemy, it should not be in his power to hurt him, The first part of this rule, which regards our behaviour towards an enemy, is indeed very reasonable, as well as very prudential; but the latter part of it which regards our behaviour towards a friend, favours more of cunning than of discretion, and would cut a man off from the greatest pleafures of life, which are the freedoms of conversation with a bosom friend. Besides that when a friend is turned into an enemy, and, as the fon of Sirach calls him, a bewrayer of fecrets, the world is just enough to accuse the perfidiousness of the friend, rather than the indifcretion of the perfon who confided in him.

Difcretion does not only shew itself in words, but in all the circumstances of action; and is like an under-agent of Providence, to guide and direct us in the ordinary concerns of life.

There are many more shining qualities in the, mind of man, but there is none so useful as difcretion; it is this indeed which gives a value to all the rest, which sets them at work in their proper times and places, and turns them to the advantage of the person who is possessed of them. Without it learning is pedantry, and wit impertinence; virtue itself looks like weakness; the best parts only qualify a man to be more sprightly in errors, and active to his own prejudice.

Nor does difcretion only make a man the mafter of his own parts, but of other mens. The difcreet man finds out the talents of those he converfes with, and knows how to apply them to proper ufes. Accordingly, if we look into particular communities and divisions of men, we may observe that it is the discreet man, not the witty, nor the learned, nor the brave, who guides the conversation, and gives measures to the society. A man with great talents, but void of difcretion, is like Polyphemus in the fable, strong and blind, endued with an irresistible force, which for want of fight is of no use to him.

Though a man has all other perfections, and wants difcretion, he will be of no great conse, quence in the world; but if he has this fingle talent in perfection, and but a common share of others, he may do what he pleases in his particular

ftation of life.

Difcretion, the more it is discovered, gives the greater authority to the person who poffefses it: cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even those events which he might have done, had he passed only for a plain man. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life; cunning is a kind of instinct, that only looks out after our immediate interest and welfare. Difcretion is only found in men of strong fenfe and good understanding: cunning is often to be met with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest remoyes from them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of difcretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the fame manner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom.

At the same time that I think difcretion the moit useful talent a man can be master of, I look ppon cunning to be the accomplishment of little mean ungenerous minds. Discretion points out the nobleit ends to us, and purfues the most proper and laudabie methods of attaining them: wunning has only private selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them fucceed. Difcretion has large and extended views, and, like a well formed eye, commands a whole horizon: cunning is a kind of short-fightedness, that discowers the minuteft objects which are near at hand, but is not able to difcern things at a distance

The caft of mind which is natural to a difcreet man, makes him look forward into futurity, and confider what will be his condition millions of ages hence, as well as what it is at present. He knows that the misery or happiness which are reserved for him in another world, lose nothing of their reality by being placed at so great a distance from him. The objects do not appear little to him because they are remote. He confiders that those pleasures and pains which lie hid in eternity, approach nearer to him every moment, and. will be present with him in their full weight and measure, as much as those pains and pleasures which he feels at this very instant. For this reafon he is careful to secure to himself that which is the proper happiness of his nature, and the ultimate design of his being. He carries his thoughts to the end of every action, and confiders the most distant, as well as the most immediate effects of it. He supersedes every little prospect of gain. and advantage which offers itself here, if he does not find it confiftent with his views of an hereafter. In a word, his hopes are full of immortality his schemes are large and glorious, and his conduct suitable to one who knows his true interest, and how to pursue it by proper methods.

I have, in this essay upon difcretion, confidered it both as an accomplisliment and as a virtue, and have therefore described it in its full extent; not only as it is converfant about worldly affairs, but as it regards our whole existence; not only as it is the guide of a mortal creature, but as it is in general the director of a reasonable Being. It is in this light that discretion is represented by the wise man, who sometimes mentions it under the name of difcretion, and sometimes under that of wisdom. It is indeed, as described in the latter part of this paper, the greatest wisdom, but at the same time in the power of every one to attain. Its advantages are infinite, but its acquisition easy; or to speak of her in the words of the apocryphal writer whom I quoted in my last Saturday's paper. "Wisdom is glorious, and never "fadeth away, yet she is easily feen of them that "love her, and found of fuch as seek her. She "preventeth them that defire her, in making "herself first known unto them. He that feeketh "her early, thall have no great travel: for he "shall find her fitting at his doors. To think "therefore upon her is perfection of wisdom, " and whoso watcheth for her shall quickly be "without care. For the goeth about feeking " such as are worthy of her, sheweth herself fa, "vourably unto them in the ways, and meeteth them in every thought."

No,

N° 226. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 19. -Mutum eft pictura poema.

A picture is a poem without words.

I

Hor.

Have very often lamented and hinted my forrow in several speculations, that the art of painting is made so little use of to the improvement of our manners. When we confider that it places the action of the perfon represented in the moît agreeable aspect imaginable, that it does not only express the paffion or concern as it fits upon him who is drawn, but has under those features the height of the painter's imagination, what strong images of virtue and humanity might we not expect would be instilled into the mind from the labours of the pencil? This is a poetry which would be understood with much less capacity, and less expence of time, than what is taught by writings; but the use of it is generally perverted, and that admirable skill prostituted to the basest and most unworthy ends. Who is the better man for beholding the most beautiful Venus, the best wrought Bacchanal, the images of fleeping Cupids, languishing nymphs, or any of the representations of gods, goddesses, demigods, fatyrs, Polyphemes, sphinxes, or fawns? But if the virtues and vices, which are fometimes pretended to be represented under such draughts, were given us by the painter in the characters of real life, and the perfons of men and women whose actions have rendered them laudable or infamous; we should not fee a good history-piece without receiving an instructive lecture. There needs no other proof of this truth, than the teftimony of every reasonable creature who has seen the cartons in her majesty's gallery at Hampton-court: these are representations of no less actions than those of our blessed Saviour and his apostles. As I now fit and recollect the warm images which the admirable Raphael has raised, it is impossible even from the faint traces in one's memory of what one has not feen these two years, to be unmoved at the horror and reverence which appear in the whole assembly when the mercenary man fell down dead; at the amazement of the man born blind, when he first receives light; or at the graceless indignation of the forcerer, when he is ftruck blind. The lame, when they first find strength in their feet, stand doubtful of their new vigour. The heavenly apostles appear acting these great things, with a deep sense of the infirmities which they relieve, but no value of themselves who administer to their weakness. They know themselves to be but instruments; and the generous distress they are painted in when divine honours are offered to them, is a representation in the most exquisite degree of the beauty of holiness. When St. Paulis preaching to the Athenians, with what wonderful art are almost all the different tempers of mankind represented in that elegant audience? You see one credulous of all that is faid, another wrapt up in deep fufpence, another faying there is some reason in what he fays, another angry that the apostle destroys a favourite opinion which he is unwilling to give up, another wholly convinced and holding out his hands in rapture, while the generality attend, and wait for the opinion of those who are of leading characters in the assembly. I will not pretend so much as to mention that chart on which is drawn the appearance of our blessed Lord after

his refurrection. Present authority, late suffering, humility and majesty, despotic command, and divine love, are at once feated in his celestial aspect. The figures of the eleven apostles are all in the same paffion of admiration, but discover it differently accordingly to their characters. Peter receives his master's orders on his knees with an admiration mixed with a more particular attention: the two next with a more open extafy, though still constrained by the awe of the divine prefence: the beloved difciple, whom I take to be the right of the two first figures, has in his countenance wonder drowned in love; and the last perfonage, whose back is towards the spectators, and his fide towards the prefence, one would fancy to be St. Thomas, as abashed by the conscience of his former diffidence; which perplexed concern it is possible Raphael thought too hard a task to draw but by this acknowledgment of the difficulty to describe it.

The whole work is an exercise of the highest piety in the painter; and all the touches of a religious mind are expressed in a manner much more forcible than can poffibly be performed by the most moving eloquence. These invaluable pieces are very justly in the hands of the greatest and most pious sovereign in the world; and cannot be the frequent object of every one at their own leisure: but as an engraver is to the painter, what a painter is to an author, it is worthy ber majesty's name, that she has encouraged that noble artist, Monfieur Dorigny, to publish these works of Raphael. We have of this gentleman a piece of the transfiguration, which, I think, is held a work second to none in the world.

Methinks it would be ridiculous in our people of condition, after their large bounty to foreigners of no name or merit, should they overlook this occasion of having, for a trifting subscription, a work which it is impossible for a man of fenfe to behold, without being warmed with the noblest sentiments that can be inspired by love, admiration, compaffion, contempt of this world, and expectation of a better.

It is certainly the greatest honour we can do our country, to diftinguish strangers of merit who apply to us with modesty and diffidence, which generally accompanies merit. No opportunity of this kind ought to be neglected; and a modest behaviour should alarm us to examine whether we do not lose something excellent under that disadvantage in the possessor of that quality. My skill in paintings, where one is not directed by the paffion of the pictures, is so inconfiderable, that I am in very great perplexity when I offer to fpeak of any performances of painters, of landskips, buildings, or single figures. This makes me at a lofs how to mention the pieces which Mr. Boul exposes to sale by auction on Wednesday next in Chandois-street: but having heard him commended by those who have bought of him heretofore for great integrity in his dealing, and overheard him himself, though a laudable painter, say nothing of his own was fit to come into the room with those he had to fell, I feared I should lose an occafion of serving a man of worth, in omitting to speak of his auction.

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