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to you another circumstance, which is, that my he has affected a certain art of getting nie anne, mother, the most mercenary of all women, is gained and talking with a mighty profusion of passionate by this falsc fricnd of my husband to solicit me for words, how I am not to be resisted longer, how irhim. I am frequently chid by the poor believing resistible his wishes are, and the like. As long as man my husband, for shuwing an impatience of his I have been acquainted with him, I could not ou friend's company; and I am never alone with my suca occasions say downright to him, 'You knus mother, but she tells me shrics of the discretionary you may make me yours when you please. But part of the world, and such-a-one, and such-a-one, the other night, be with great frankuess and impewho are guilty of as much as she advises me to. dence explained to me, ihat he thought of me ty She laughs at my astonishment; and seems to hint as a mistress. I answered this declaration as it is to me, that, as virtuous as she has always appeared, served; upon which he only doubled the terins en I am not the daughter of her husband. It is pos- which he proposed my yielding. When my anger sible that printing this letter may relieve me from heightened upon him, he told me he was surts he the unnatural importunity of my mother, and the had made so little use of the unguarded houta se perfidious courtship of my husband's friend. I have had been together so remote from company, 'as isan unfeigned love of virtue, and am resolved to deed,' continued he, .so we are at present.' I lea preserve my innocence. The only way I can think from him to a neighbouring gentlewoman's book, of to avoiu the fatal consequences of the discovery and, though her husband was in the room, thru of this matter is to fly away for ever, which I must myself on a couch, and burst into a passion of tears. do to avoid my husband's fatal resentment against My friend desired her husband to leave the room. the man who attempts to abuse him, and the shame But,' said he, “there is something so extraordinary of exposing a parent to infamy. The persons con- in this, that I will partake in the affliction; and cerned will know these circumstances relate to be it what it will, she is so much your friend, that them; and though the regard to virtue is dead in she knows she may coiomand what services I can do them, I have some hopes from their fear of shame her.' The man sat down by me, and spoke so like upon reading this in your paper; which I conjure a brother, that I told him my whole affliction. He you to publish, if you have any compassion for in-spoke of the injury done me with so much indigos jured virtue.

“SYLVIA," tion, and animated me against the love he said be “ Mr. Spectator,

saw I had for the wretch who would have betrayed

me, with so much reason and humanity to my seaka "I am the husband of a woman of merit, but am fallen in love, as they call it, with a lady of her ac- and he are my comforters, and I am under no more

ness, that I doubt not of my perseverance. Ilis wile quaintance, who is going to be married to a gentle restraint in their company than if I were alobe; map who deserves ber. I am in a trust relating to and I doubt not but in a small time contempt and This lady's fortune, which makes my concurrence in hatred will take place of the remains of affection to tbis matter necessary; but I have so irresistible a

a rascal. rage and envy rise iu me when I consider his future happiness, that against all reason, equity, and com

“ I am, Sir, your affectionate Reader, mon justice, I am ever playing mean tricks to sus

* Dorinda."

“ MR. SrectATOR, pend the nuptials. I have no manner of hopes for myself: Emilia (for so I will call her,) is a woman

“ I had the misfortune to be an uncle before I of the most strict virtue; her lover is a gentleman, knew my nephews from my nieces; and now we whom of all others I could wish my friend: but envy are grown up to better acquaintance, they deny me and jealousy, though placed so unjustiy, waste my

the respect they owe. One upbraids me with being very being; and with the torment' and 'sense of a their familiar, another will hardly be persuaded that denion, I am ever cursing what I cannot but ap- I am an uncle, a third calls me little uncle, and a prove. I wish it were the beginning of repentance, fourth tells me there is no duty at all due to an that I sit down and describe my present disposition uncle. I have a brother-in-law whose son will win with so hellish an aspect: but at present the de- all my affection, unless you shall think this worthy struction of these two excellent persons would be of your cognisance, and will be pleased to prescribe more welcome to me than their happiness. Mr. some rules for our future reciprocal behaviour. It Spectator, pray let me have a paper on these ter- will be worthy the particularity of your genius to rible, groundless sufferings, and do all you can to lay down rules for his conduct, who was, as it were, exorcise crowds who are in some degree possessed born an old man; in which you will much oblige, as I am. “ CANNIBAL."

Sir, your most obedient Servant, T.

“ CORNELIUS Nepos." MR. SPECTATOR, “ I have no other means but this to express my thanks to one man, and my resentment against another. My circumstances are as follow: I have

No. 403.). THURSDAY, JUNE 12, 1712. been for five years last past courted by a gentle

Qui mores hominum multorum vidis mau of greater fortune than I ought to expect, as the market for women goes. You must, to be sure,

of many men he saw the manners, have observed people who live in that sort of way, When I consider this great city in its several as all their friends reckon it will be a match, and quarters and divisions, I look upon it as an aggre are marked out by all the world for each other. In gate of various nations distinguished from cach this view, wc have been regarded for some time, and other by their respective customs, manners, and inI have above these three years loved him tenderly. terests. The courts of two countries do not sa As be is very careful of his fortune, I always thought much differ from one another, as the court and city, he lived in a near manner, to lay up what he thought in their peculiar ways of life and conversation. la was wanting in my fortune to make up what he short, the inhabitares of St. James's, notwithstand. might expect in another. Within these few months I ing they live under the same laws, and speak the have observed bis carriage very much altered, and same language, are a distinct people from those of,

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Hor. Ars Poet v. 112

Cheapside, who are likewise removed from those of the company an account of the deplorable state o. the Temple on one side, and those of Smithfield on France during the minority of the deceased king. the other, by several climates and degrees in their I then turned on my right hand into Fish-street, ways of thinking and conversing together.

where the chief politician of that quarter, upon for this reason, when any public affair is upon the hearing the news (after having taken a pipe of toanvil, I love to hear the reflections that arise upon bacco, and ruminated for some time), " If,” says it in the several districts and parishes of London he, " the king of France is certainly dead, we shall and Westminster, and to ramble up and down a bave plenty of mackerel this season : our fishery bole day together, in order to make myself ac- will not be disturbed by privateers, as it has been quainted with the opinions of my ingenious coun- for these ten years past.” He afterwards considered trymed. By this means I know the faces of all the how the death of this great man would affect our principal politicians within the bills of mortality; pilchards, and by several other remarks infused a and as every coffee-house has some particular states- general joy into his whole audience. man belonging to it, who is the mouth of the street I afterward entered a by-coffee-house that stood where he lives, I always take care to place myself at the upper end of a narrow lane, where I met near him, in order to know his judgment on the with a non-juror, engaged very warmly with a lacepresent posture of affairs. The last progress that man who was the great support of a neighbouring I made with this intention, was about ihree months conventicle. The matter in debate was, whether ago, when we had a current report of the king of the late French king was most like Augustus Cæsar France's death. As I foresaw this would produce a or Nero. The controversy was earried on with great vev face of things in Europe, and many curious heat on both sides; and as each of them looked upon speculations in our British coffee-houses, I was very me very frequently during the course of their debate, desirous to learn the thoughts of our most eminent I was under some apprehension that they would appoliticians on that occasion.

peal to me, and therefore laid down my penny at That I might begin as near the fountain-head as the bar, and made the best of my way to Cheapside. possible. I first of all called in at St. James's, where I here gazed upon the signs for some time, before I found the whole outward room in a buzz of politics. I found one to my purpose. The first object I met The speculations were but very indifferent towards in the coffec-room was a person who expressed great the door, but grew tiner as you advanced to the grief for the death of the French king; but, upon apper end of the room, and were so very much im- his explaining hinself, I found his sorrow did not proveri hy a knot of theorists, who sat in the inner arise from the loss of the monarch, but for his ruon, within the steams of the coffee-pot, that I having sold out of the bauk about three days before there heard the whole Spanish monarchy disposed he heard the news of it. Upon which, a haberdasher, of, and all the line of Bourbon provided for in less who was the oracle of the coffee-house, and had his than a quarter oť an hour.

circle of admirers about him, called several to wit, I afterwards called in at Giles's, where I saw a ness that he had declared his opinion above a week board of French gentlemen sittiay upon the life and before, that the French king was certainly dead; to death of their grand nonarque. Thuse among them which he added, that, considering the late advices who had espoused the whig interest, very positively we had received from France, it was impossible that affirmed, that he departed this life about a week it could be otherwise. As he was laying these tostace, and therefore proceeded without any further gether, and dictating to his hearers with great authodelay to the release of their friends in the galleys, rity, there came in a gentleman from Garraway's, and to their own re-establishment; but finding they who told us that there were several letters from could not agree ainong themselves, I proceeded on France just come in, with advice that the king was my intended progress.

goue out a-hunting the very morning the post came Upon my arrival at Jenny Man's I saw an alerte away: upon which, the haberdasher stole off his hat Foung fellow that cocked his hat upon a friend of that hung upon a wooden peg by him, and retired to his who entered just at the same time with myself, his shop with great confusion. This intelligence asd accosted him after the following manner: put a stop to my travels, which I had prosecuted - Wal, Jack, the old prig is dead at last. Sharp's with much satisfaction, not being a little pleased to the word. Now or never, boy. Up to the walls of hear so many different opinions upon so great an Panis directly." With several other deep reflections erent, and to observe how naturally upon such a of the same nature.

piece of news every one is apt to consider it with I met with very little variation in the politics be- regard to his own particular interest and advantween Charing-cross and Coverit-garden. And upon tage.-L. my going into Will's, I found their discourse was gone off from the death of the French king to that

No. 404.] FRIDAY, JUNE 13, 1712. of Monsieur Boileau, Racine, Corneille, and several

-Non omnia possumus ormes.-VIRG. Ecl. viii. 63. other poets, whom they regretted on this occasion, 33 persons who would have obliged the world with

With different talents formid, we variously excel. very noble elegies on the death of so great a prince, NATURE does nothing in vain: the Creator of and so eminent a patron of learning.

the universe has appointed every thing to a certain Al á euffee-house near the Temple, I found a use and purpose, and determined it to a settled coaple of young gentlemen engaged vory smartly in course and sphere of action, from which if it in the a dispute on the succession to the Spanish monarchy. least deviates, it hecomes unit to answer those ends One of them seemed to have been retained as advó- for which it was designed. In like manner, it is in ute for the Duke of Anjou, the other for his im- the dispositions of society, the civil economy is perial najesty. They were both for regulating the formed in a chair, as well as the natural: and in iitke to that kingdom by the statute laws of England; either case the breach but of one link puts the bae finding then going out of my depth, I passed whole in some disorder. It is, I think, pretiy plain, forward to St. Paul's churchyard, where I listened that most of the absurdity and ridicule we meet with with great attention to a learned man, who gavel in the world is generally owing to the impertiueat SPECTATO -Nos, 59 & 60.

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affectation of excelling in characters men are not Nature, if left to herself, leads us on in the best fit for, and for which Nature never desigued thein. course, but will do nothing by compulsion and cou.

Every man has one or more qualities which may straint: and if we are not satistied to go ber way, make him useful both to himself and others. Nature we are always the greatest sufferers by it. never fails of pointing them out; and while the in. Wherever Nature designs a production, she fant continues under her guardianship, she brings always disposes soeds proper for it, which are as him on in his way, and then offers herself for a absolutely necessary to the formation of any moral guide in what remains of the journey; if he pro- or intellectual excellence, as they are to the being ceeds in that course, he can hardly mniscarry. Na and growth of plants; and I know not by what fati ture makes good her engagements; for, as she never and folly it is, that men are taught, not to reckon promises what she is not able to perform, so she him equally absurd that will write verses in spite never fails of performing what she promises. But of Nature, with that gardener that should undertake the misfortune is, men despise what they may be to raise a jonquil or talip without the help of their masters of, and affect what they are not fit for; ihey respective seeds. reckon themselves already possessed of what their Ås there is no good or bad quality that dnes not genius inclined them to, and so bend all their am- affect both sexes, so it is not to be imagined but the bition to excel in what is out of their reach. Thus fair sex must have suffered by an affectation of this they destroy the use of their natural talents, in the nature, at least as much as the other. The ill effect same manner as covetous men do their quiet and re- of it is in non. so conspicuous as in the two opposite pose: they can enjoy no satisfaction in what they characters of Cælia and Iras: Cælia has all tha have, because of the absurd inclination they are charms of person, together with an abundant sweetpossessed with for what they have not.

ness of nature, but wants wit, and has a very ill Cleanthes bad good sense, a great memory, and a voice; Iras is ugly and ungenteel, but has wit and constitutiou capable of the closest application. In good sense. If Cælia would be silent, ber beholders a word, there was no profession in which Cleanthes would adore her: if Iras would talk, her bearers Inight not have made a very good figure; but this would admire her: but Cælia's tougue runs iuces will not satisfy him; he takes up an unaccountable santly, while Iras gives herself silent airs and soft fondness for the character of a gentleman : all his languors, so that it is difficult to persuade one's seli thoughts are bent upon this. Instead of attending that Cælia has beauty, and Iras wit: each neglects a dissection, frequenting the courts of justice, or her own excellence, and is ambitious of the oiber's studying the fathers, Cleanthes reads plays, dances, character; Iras would be thought to have as much dresses, and spends his time in drawing-rooms. beauty as Cælia, and Cælia as much wit as Iras. Instead of being a good lawyer, divine, or physician, The great misfortune of tbis affectation is, that Cleanthes is a downright cóscomb, and will remain men not only lose a good quality, but also contract to all that know him a contemptible example of ta- a bad one. They not only are unfit for what they lents misapplied. It is to this affectation the world were designed, but they assign themselves to what owes its whole race of coxcombs. Nature in her they are not fit for; and instead of making a very whole drama never drew such a part; she has some good figure one way, make a very ridiculous one times made a fool, but a coxcomb is always of a another. If Semanthe would have been satisfied inan's own making, by applying his talents” other with her natural complexion, she might still have wise than Nature designed, who ever bears a high been celebrated by the name of the olive beauty; resentment for being put out of her course, and but Semanthe has taken up an affectation to white never fails of taking her revenge on those that do and red, and is now distinguished by the character so. Opposing her tendency in ihe application of a of the lady that paints so well. Io a word, could man's parts, has the same success as declining from the world be reforined to the obedience of that famed her course in the production of vegetables. By the dictate, “ Follow Nature,” which the oracle of Del. assistance of art and a hot-bed, we may possibly phos pronounced to Cicero, when he consulted what extort an unwilling plant, or an untimely salad; course of studies he should pursue, we should sea but how weak, how tasteless and insipid ! 'Just as almost every man as eminent in his proper sphere insipid as the poetry of Valerio. Valerio had a as Tully was in his, and should in a very short time universal character, was genteel, had learning, find impertinence and affectation banished from thought justly, spoke correctly; it was believed among the women, and coxcombs and false characthere was nothing in which Valerio did not excel; ters from among the mer. For my part, I could and it was so far true, that there was but one : Va never consider this preposterous repugnancy to Nalerio had no genius for poetry, yet he is resolved to ture any otherwise, thân not only as the greatest be a poet; hc writes verses, and takes great pains folly, but also one of the most heinous crimes, since to convince the town that Valerio is not that extra- it is a direct opposition to the disposition of Prosi. ordinary person he was taken for.

dence, and (as Tully expresses it) like the sin of If men would be content to graft upun Nature, the giants, an actual rebellion against Heaveu.-2. and assist her operations, what mighty effects might we expect! Tully would not stand so much alone in oratory, Virgil in poetry, or Cæsar in war. Το No. 405.] SATURDAY, JUNE 14, 1712 build upou Nature, is laying a foundation upon a With hymns divine the joyous banqnet ends: rock; every thing disposes itself into order as it The pæaus lengthened úll the sun descends: were of course, aud the whole work is half done as The Greeks restored, the grateful notes prolong: soon as undertaken. Cicero's genius inclined him

Apollo listens, and approves the sony-Porx. to oratory, Virgil's to follow the train of the Muses; I am very sorry to find, by the opera bills for this they piously obeyed the admonition, and were re- day, that we are likely to lose the greatest perforacer warded. Had Virgil attended the bar, his modest in dramatic music that is now living, or that perand ingenuous virtue would surely have made but a haps ever appeared upon a stage. i need not acvery indifferent figure; and Túlly's declamatory quaint my readers that I am speaking of Sigviar inclination would have been as useless in poetry. Nicelini. . The town is bighly obliged to that excel

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jent artist, for having shown us the Italian music which we have reason to believe were in high reis its perfection, as well as for that generous appro- pute among the courts of the eastern monarchs, bation, he lately gave to an opera of our own coun- were nothing else but psalms and pieces of poetry try, in which the composer endeavoured to do justice that adored or celebrated the Supreme Being. The to the beauty of the words, by following that noble greatest conqueror in this holy nation, after the example which has been set him by the greatest manner of the old Grecian lyrics, did not only comforeign masters in that art.

pose the words of his divine odes, but generally set I could heartily wish there were the same appli- them to music himself: after which, his works, cation and endeavours to cultivate and improve our though they were consecrated to the tabernacle, be church music as have been lately bestowed on that came the national entertainment as well as the deof the stage. Our composers have one very great votion of his people. incitement to it. They are sure to meet with ex- The first original of the drama was a religious cellent words, and at the same time a wonderful worship, consisting only of a chorus, which was variety of them. There is no passion that is not nothing else but a hymn to a deity. As luxury and finely' espressed in those parts of the inspired voluptuousness prevailed over innocence and reliwritings, which are proper for divine songs and gion, this form of worship degenerated into tragé. anthems.

dies; in which, however, the chorus so far rememThere is a certain coldness and indifference in the bered its first office, as to brand every thing ihat phrases of our European languages, when they are was vicious, and recommend every thing that was compared with the oriental forms of speech; and it laudable, to intercede with Heaven for the innohappens very luckily, that the Hebrew idioms run cent, and to implore its vengeance on the criminal into the English toogue with a particular grace and Homer and Hesiod intimate to us how this art beauty. Our language has received innumerable should be applied, when they represent the Muses elegancies and improvenents, from that infusion of as surrounding Jupiter and warbling their hymns Hebraisms, which are derived to it out of the poeti- about his throne. I might show, from innumerable cal passages in holy writ. They give a force and passages in ancient writers, not only that vocal and energy to our expressions, warm and animate our instrumental music were made use of in their relilanguage, and convey our thoughts in more ardent gious worship, but that their most favourite diverand intense phrases, than any that are to be met with sions were filled with songs and hymns to their rein our own tongue. There is something so pathetic spective deities. Had we frequent entertainments in this kind of diction, that it often sets the mind in of this nature among us, they would not a little a fame, and makes our hearts burn within us. purify and exalt our passions, give our thoughts a How cold and dead does a prayer appear, that is proper turn, and cherish those divine impulses in composed in the most elegant and polite forms of the soul, which every one feels that has not stifted speech, which are natural to our tongue, when it is them by sensual and immoderate pleasures. not heightened by that solemnity of phrase which Music, when thus applied, raises noble hints in may be drawn from the sacred writings. It has the mind of the bearer, and fills it with great conbeen said by some of the ancients, that if the gods ceptions. It strengthens devotion, and advances were to talk with men, they would certainly speak praise into rapture; it lengthens out every act of in Plato's style; but I think we may say with jus- worship, and produces more lasting and permanent tice, that when mortals converse with their Creator, impressions in the mind than those which accomthey cannot do it in so proper a style as in that of pany any transient form of words that are uttered the Holy Scriptures.

in the ordinary method of religious worship.-0. If any one would judge of the beauties of poetry that are to be met with in the divine writings, and examine how kindly the Hebrew manners of speech No. 406.) MONDAY, JUNE 16, 1712. mix and incorporate with the English language; Hæc studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, se. after taviug perused the Book of Psalms, let him cundas res ornant, adversis solatium et perfugium præbent: read a literal translation of Horace or Pindar. He delectant domi, non impediumt foris; pernoctant nobiscum, will find in these two last such an absurdity and confusion of style , with such a comparative poverty These studies nourish youth ; delight old age : are the ornament

of prosperity, the solucement and the refuge of adversity: of imagination, as will make him very sensible of

they are delectable at home, and not burdensome abroad what I have been here advancing.

they gladden us at nights, and on our journeys, and in Since we have therefore such a treasury of words, country. so beautiful in themselves, and so proper for the The following letters bear a pleasing image of airs of music, I cannot but wonder that persons of the joys and satisfactions of private life. The first distinction should give so little attention and en is from a gentleman to a friend, for whom he has a couragement to that kind of music which would very great respect, and to whom he communicates have its foundation in reason, and which would in the satisfaction he takes in retirement; the other is prove our virtue in proportion as it raised our de-a letter to me, occasioned by an ode written by my light. The passions that are excited by ordinary Lapland lover: this correspondent is so kind as to compositions generally flow from such silly and ab- translate another of Scheffer's songs in a very agreekurd occasions, that a man is shamed to reflect upon able manner. I publish them together, that the ther seriously; but the fear, the love, the sorrow, young and old may find something in the same the indignation, that are awakened in the mind by paper which may be suitable to thoir respective bymns and anthems, make the heart better, and tastes in solitude; for I know no fault in the de proceed from such causes as are altogether reason. scription of ardent desires, provided they are able and praiseworthy. Pleasure and duty go hand honourable. in band; and the greater our satisfaction is, the greater is our religion.

“ DEAR SIR, Masie, among those who were styled the chosen “ You have obliged me with a very kind letter, people, was a religious art. The songs of Sion, by which I find you shift the scene of your lite 1101

peregrinantur, rusticantur.



the town to the country, and enjoy that mixt state, to have a fondness for what one does one's sell yrt which wise mien both delight in and are qualified I assure you, I would not have any thing of mise for. Methinks most of the philosophers and mo- displace a single line of yours." ralists have run too much into extremes, in praising entirely either solitude or public life; in the former,

I. men generally grow useless by too much rest; and, Haste, my rein-deer, and let us nimbly go in the latter, are destroyed by too much precipi.

Our an rous journey throu,h this dreary waste!

Haste, my rein-deer! still, sull thou art too slow, tation; as waters lying still, putrefy and are good

Impetuous love demands the lightniny's baste. for nothing; and running violently on, do but the more mischief in their passage to others, and are

II. swallowed up and lost the sooner themselves. Those Around us far the rushy moors are spread:

Soon will the sun withdraws his cheerful ray: who, like you, can make themselves useful to all

Darkling and tir'd we shall the marshes tread, states, should be like gentle streams, that not only No lay unsung to cheat the tedious way. glide through. lonely vales and forests, amidst the

INI. Hocks and shepherds, but visit populous towns in their course, and are at once of ornament and service

The wat'ry length of these unjoyous moors to them. But there is another sort of people who

Does all the ilow'ry meadows' pride excel:

Through these I fly to ber my soul adores; seem designed for solitude, those I mean who have Ye How'ry meadows, empiy pride, farewell more to hide than to show. As for my own part, I

IV. am one of those of whom Seneca says, “ Tam um. bratiles sunt, ut putent in turbido esse quicquid in

Each moment from the charmer I'm confind,

My breast is tortur'd with impatient fires: luce est.' Some men, like pictures, are fitter for a Fly, my rein-deer, fly swister than the wind, corner than a full light; and I believe such as have Thy tardy feet wing with my fierce desires. a natural beat to solitude are like waters, which

V. may be forced into fountains, and exalted to a great

Our pleasing toil will then be soon o'erpaid, height, may make a much nobler figure, and a much

And thou, in wonder lost, shalt view my fair, louder noise, but after all, run more smootbly, Admire each feature of the lovely maid. equally, and plentifully, in their own natural course Her artless charms, her blooin, her sprightly air upon the ground. The consideration of this would

VI. make me very well contented with the possession only of that quiet which Cowley calls the companion

But, lo! with graceful motion there she swims,

Gently removing each ambitious wave: of obscurity; but whoever has the Muses too for bis The crowding waves transported clasp her limhs companions can never be idle enough to be uneasy.

When, when, oh when shall I such freedonis ba Thus, Sir, you see I would flatter myself into a good

VII. opinion of my own way of living: Plutarch just now

In vain, ye envious streams, so fast ye flow, told me, that it is in human life as in a game at To hide her from her lover's ardeut gaze: tables: one may wish he had the highest cast; but, From every touch you more transparent grow. if bis chance bé otherwise, he is even to play it as

And all reveald the beauteous wanton plays well as he can, and make the best of it.

T. “ I am, Sir, “ Your most obliged and most humble Servant.” No. 407.1 TUESDAY, JUNE 17, 1712. “ MR, SPECTATOR,

Labest facundis gratia dictis.-OVID, Met xiv. 137.

Eloquent words a graceful manner want. The town being so well pleased with the fine picture of artless love, which nature inspired the Most foreign writers, who have given any chaLaplander to paint in the ode you lately printed, racter of the English nation, whatever vices they we were in hopes that the ingenious translator ascribe to it, allow, in general, that the people are would have obliged it with the other also which naturally modest. It proceeus perhaps trom this Scheffer has given us; but since he has not, a much our national virtue, that our orators are observed to inferior hand has ventured to send you this. make less gesture or action than those of other

“ It is a custom with the northern lovers to divert countries. Our preachers stand stock-still in the themselves with a song, whilst they journey through pulpit, and will not so much as move a finger to set the feany moors to pay a visit to their mistresses. off ihe best serions in the world. We meet with This is addressed by the lover to his rein-deer, which the same speaking statues at our bars, and in all is the creature that in that country supplies the publie places of debate. Our words dow from us in want of horses. The circumstances which succes- a smooth continued stream, without those strainings sively present themselves to him in his way, are, 1 of the voice, motions of the body, and majesty of believe you will think, paturally interwoven. The the hand, which are so much celebrated in the anxiety of absence, the gloominess of the roads, and forators of Greece and Rome. We can walk of life his resolution of frequenting only those, since those and death in cold blood, and keep our temper in a only can carry him to the object of his desires; discourse which turns upon every thing that is dear the dissatisfaction he expresses even at the greatest to us. Though our zeal breaks out in the fuest swiftness with which he is carried, and his joyful tropes and figures, it is not able to stir a limb aboui surprise at an unexpected sight of his mistress as us." I have heard it observed more than once, by she is bathing, seem beautifully described in the those who have seen Italy, that an uotravelled original.

Englishnian cannot relish all the beautics of Italian * If all those pretty images of rural nature are pictures, because the postures which are espressed lost in the imitation, yet possibly you may think fit in them are often such as are peculiar in that to let this supply the place of a long letter, when country. One who has not seen an Italian in the want of leisure, or indisposition for writing, will pulpit,' will not know what to make of that ouble not permit our being entertained by your own hand. gesture in Rapbael's picture of St. Paul preacbiug I pripose such a time, becavse, though it is natural at Athens, where the apostle is represented as

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