} 297 ARTES LIBRARY 1817 SCIENTIA VERITAS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN PODRINUS TUMAANIAMININOTAUge MufahmartTAN MAUTO SHOWINITINERAMBURUDAN T SMANNIALL TUEBOR QUERIS PENINSULAM AMŒNAM CIRCUMSPICE Library of Franklin Ohlinger D.D. WINNING Gift of his cughtex Constance Onlinger U.of M.'23 AB MIME. 126 As a A > Constance Chlinger 14 2 aunted by Si Joshua Reynold SAMUEL JOHNSON FED Tugraved by Jame › Finler ARA. THE WORKS " OF Samuel Johnson, LL.D. A NEW EDITION, IN TWELVE VOLUMES. WITH AN ESSAY ON HIS LIFE AND GENIUS, BY ARTHUR MURPHY, Esq. VOLUME THE FIRST. LONDON: Printed by Luke Hansard & Sons, near Lincoln's-Inn Fields, For J. Nichols & Son; F. & C. Rivington; Otridge & Son; A. Strahan; Leigh & Sotheby; G. Nicol & Son; T. Payne; W. Lowndes; G. Robinson: Wilkie & Robinson; C. Davis; T. Egerton; Scatcherd & Letterman; J. Walker; Vernor, Hood, & Sharpe; R. Lea; Darton & Harvey; J. Nunn; Lackington, Allen, & Co.; J. Stockdale; J. Cuthell; Clarke & Sons; G. Kearsley; C. Law; J. White & Co.; Longman, Hurst, Rees, & Orme; Cadell & Davies; J. Barker; John Richardson; J. M. Richardson; J. Booker; J. Carpenter; B. Crosby; E. Jeffery; J. Murray; W. Miller; J. & A. Arch; Black, Parry, & Kingsbury; S. Bagster; J. Harding; J. Mackinlay; J. Hatchard; R. H. Evans; Matthews & Leigh; J. Mawman; J. Booth; J. Asperne; R. Scholey; R. Baldwin; J. Faulder; Sherwood, Neely, & Jones; J. Johnson & Co.; and T. Underwood-Deighton & Son at Cambridge; and Wilson & Son at York. 1810. F 1 808 Jb? 1910 vil 1 Gal 9.457 vola, 1-12 ADVERTISEMENT. TWENTY years have elapsed since the death of Dr. Johnson, during which his character and talents have been scrutinized with a severity unprecedented in literary biography. There never, indeed, was a human being of whom more may be known by those who have had no opportunity of personal acquaint- ance, and perhaps never a man whose failings, after having been exposed by imprudence or exaggerated by malice, were sooner forgotten in the esteem excited by his superior talents, and steady virtues. Besides many impressions of his individual pieces, three large editions of his collected works have been bought up by the Publick, and a fourth, which has been loudly called for, is now completed. What Lord Chesterfield said of Swift, may be as truly applied to this author, "Whoever in the three kingdoms has any books at all, has Johnson " In this edition, I have taken the liberty to omit "Cebes' Table, or the Ficture of Human Life. By what means it came to be printed among Dr. Johnson's productions, I know not, except that there A 2 was iv ADVERTISEMENT. was once a traditionary report that he translated it for Dodsley's Preceptor. But internal evidence may be more safely relied on in the case of Dr. Johnson than of almost any other writer, and in this article it is impossible to discover the most distant resem- blance to his style, nor has any of his biographers attributed it to him. The truth is, it was translated by Mr. Spence, first published in the third volume of Dodsley's Museum, in 1747, and copied into the Preceptor the following year. To fill up the space occupied by this article, I have supplied five papers of the ADVENTURER, hitherto omitted by the mistake of Sir John Hawkins, the first collector of Dr. Johnson's works. I have also added such of Dr. Johnson's DEDICATIONS as have been yet discovered, one or two of which Mr. Boswell overlooked or rejected. Among these is the Dedication to the Parliament, of a book entitled, "The Evangelical History of Jesus Christ." Mr. Boswell cannot allow that Dr. Johnson wrote this, because “he was no croaker, no declaimer against the times." This, however, is contradicted by the tenour of some of Dr. Johnson's writings before the present reign, and even by some of those conversa- tions which Mr. Boswell has collected. The article is as evidently Johnsonian as any which have been attributed to him from internal evidence; and it was copied into the Literary Journal while he was the editor of that publication. His other DEDICATIONS have been so long considered as models of courtly address, ADVERTISEMENT. V address, that no apology seems necessary for this addition to the many proofs he has given of excellence in every species of composition. A few illustrative notes have been appended to some parts of this edition. The time is not yet come when it will be necessary to extend this kind of infor- mation, but some events and circumstances required explanation, and some dates were wanting to the lesser pieces. I have only to add that the RAMBLERS and IDLERS were revised according to the text of the lately collated edition in the BRITISH ESSAYISTS, and several material errors have been corrected. ALEXR CHALMERS. London, January 1806. CONTENTS ! 1 i A CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. ESSAY on the Life and Genius of Dr. pp. JOHNSON; by Arthur Murphy, Efq. S1-194 POEMS. LONDON; a Poem, in imitation of the third satire of Juvenal The Vanity of Human Wishes p. 195 207 Prologue spoken by Mr. Garrick at the opening of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane Irene: a Tragedy Prologue to the Masque of Comus 220 223 1 323 Prologue to the Comedy of the Good-natured Man 324 Prologue to the Comedy of A Word to the Wise 326 Spring Midsummer Autumn Winter The Winter's Walk 327 328 329 331 332 To Miss *****, on her giving the Author a Gold and Silk Net-work Purse of her own weaving 333. To Miss ***** , on her playing upon the Harpsi- chord in a Room hung with Flower-pieces of her own painting 334 • Evening: CONTENTS. vii Evening: an Ode. To Stella To the same To a Friend Stella in Mourning p. 335 336 337 338 339 To Stella Verses, written at the Request of a Gentleman to whom a Lady had given a Sprig of Myrtle 340 To Lady Firebrace, at Bury Assizes 341 To Lyce, an elderly Lady ib. On the death of Mr. Robert Levet 342 Epitaph on Claude Phillips 344 Epitaphium in Thomam Hanmer, Baronettum 344 Paraphrase of the above, by Dr. Johnson 346 To Miss Hickman, playing on the Spinet Paraphrase of Proverbs, Chap. vi. Verses 6, 7, 8, 348 9, 10, 11 349 Horace, Lib. IV. Ode VII. translated Ode ib. Anacreon, Ode IX. 351 Lines written in Ridicule of certain Poems pub- lished in 1777 352 Parody of a Translation from the Medea of Euripedes 353 Translation of the two first Stanzas of the Song "Rio Verde, Rio Verde" 354 Imitation of the Style of ***** ib.. Burlesque of some Lines of Lopes de Vega 355 Translation of some Lines at the end of Baretti's Easy Phraseology ib. Improviso Translation of a Distich on the Duke of Modena's running away from the Comet in 1742 or 1743 Improviso Translation of some Lines of Mons. Benserade à son Lit 356 ib. Epitaph viii CONTENTS. A ! Epitaph for Mr. Hogarth P. 356 Translation of some Lines written under a Print representing Persons skaiting Impromptu Translation of the same To Mrs. Thrale, on her completing her Thirty- fifth Year Impromptu Translation of an Air in the Clemenza 357 ib. ib. de Tito of Metastatio 358 Translation of a Speech of Aquileio in the Adriano of Metastatio 359 Poemata 360 1 AN AN ESSA A Y ON THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. WHEN the works of a great Writer, who has bequeathed to posterity a lasting le- gacy, are presented to the world, it is naturally expected, that some account of his life should accompany the edition. The Reader wishes to know as much as possible of the Author. The circumstances that attended him, the features of his private character, his conver- sation, and the means by which he rose to eminence, become the favourite objects of VOL. I. enquiry. B AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND enquiry. Curiosity is excited; and the ad- mirer of his works is eager to know his pri- vate opinions, his course of study, the par- ticularities of his conduct, and, above all, whether he pursued the wisdom which he recommends, and practised the virtue which his writings inspire. A principle of grati- tude is awakened in every generous mind. For the entertainment and instruction which genius and diligence have provided for the world, men of refined and sensible tempers are ready to pay their tribute of praise, and even to form a posthumous friendship with the author. In reviewing the life of such a writer, there is, besides, a rule of justice to which the publick have an undoubted claim. Fond ad- miration and partial friendship should not be suffered to represent his virtues with exag- geration; nor should malignity be allowed, under a specious disguise, to magnify mere defects, the usual failings of human nature, into vice or gross deformity. The lights and shades of the character should be given; and, if this be done with a strict regard to truth, a just estimate of Dr. Johnson will afford GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 3. L afford a lesson perhaps as valuable as the moral doctrine that speaks with energy in every page of his works. The present writer enjoyed the conversa- tion and friendship of that excellent man more than thirty years. He thought it an honour to be so connected, and to this hour he reflects on his loss with regret: but re- gret, he knows, has secret bribes, by which the judgment may be influenced, and par- tial affection may be carried beyond the bounds of truth. In the present case, how- ever, nothing needs to be disguised, and ex- aggerated praise is unnecessary. It is an observation of the younger Pliny, in his Epistle to his friend Tacitus, that history ought never to magnify matters of fact, be- cause worthy actions require nothing but the truth. Nam nec historia debet egredi veritatem, et honeste factis veritas sufficit. This rule the present Biographer promises shall guide his pen throughout the following narrative. It may be said, the death of Dr. Johnson kept the public mind in agitation beyond all former B 2 1 4 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND f former example. No literary character ever excited so much attention; and, when the press has teemed with anecdotes, apoph- thegms, essays, and publications of every kind, what occasion now for a new tract on the same threadbare subject? The plain truth shall be the answer. The proprietors of John- son's Works thought the life, which they pre- fixed to their former edition, too unwieldy for republication. The prodigious variety of foreign matter, introduced into that per- formance, seemed to overload the memory of Dr. Johnson, and in the account of his own life to leave him hardly visible. They wished to have a more concise, and, for that reason, perhaps a more satisfactory account, such as may exhibit a just picture of the man, and keep him the principal figure in the fore ground of his own picture. To comply with that re- quest is the design of this essay, which the writer undertakes with a trembling hand. He has no discoveries, no secret anecdotes, no occasional controversy, no sudden flashes of wit and humour, no private conversation, and no new facts, to embellish his work. Every thing has been gleaned. Dr. Johnson said of himself, "I am not uncandid, nor severe: I "sometimes GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 5 "sometimes say more than I mean, in jest, "and people are apt to think me serious *." The exercise of that privilege, which is en- joyed by every man in society, has not been allowed to him. His fame has given impor- tance even to trifles; and the zeal of his friends has brought every thing to light. What should be related, and what should not, has been published without distinction. Dicenda tacenda locuti! Every thing that fell from him has been caught with eagerness by his admirers, who, as he says in one of his letters, have acted with the diligence of spies upon his conduct. To some of them the following lines, in Mallet's Poem on Verbal Criticism, are not inapplicable: "Such that grave bird in Northern seas is found, "Whose name a Dutchman only knows to sound; "Where-e'er the king of fish moves on before, "This humble friend attends from shore to shore; "With eye still earnest, and with bill inclin'd, "He picks up what his patron drops behind, "With those choice cates his palate to regale, "And is the careful TIBBALD of A WHALE.' "9 * Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. ii. p. 465. 4¹edit. B 3 After 6 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND After so many essays and volumes of Johnso- niana, what remains for the present writer? Perhaps, what has not been attempted; a short, yet full, a faithful, yet temperate, history of Dr. Johnson. SAMUEL JOHNSON was born at Lichfield, September 7, 1709, O. S.* His father Michael Johnson, was a bookseller in that city; a man of large athletic make, and violent passions; wrong-headed, positive, and at times afflicted with a degree of melan- choly, little short of madness. His mother was sister to Dr. Ford, a practising physician, and father of Cornelius Ford, generally known by the name of PARSON FORD, the same who is represented near the punch-bowl in Ho- garth's Midnight Modern Conversation. In the Life of Fenton, Johnson says, that "his abilities, instead of furnishing convivial "merriment to the voluptuous and dissolute, might have enabled him to excel among 66 *This appears in a note to Johnson's Diary, prefixed to the first of his prayers. After the alteration of the style, he kept his birth-day on the 18th of September, and it is accordingly marked September 18 7 ❝ the GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 7 66 66 "the virtuous and the wise." Being chap- lain to the Earl of Chesterfield, he wished to attend that nobleman on his embassy to the Hague. Colly Cibber has recorded the anecdote. "You should go," said the witty peer, "if to your many vices you would add 66 one more." Pray, my Lord, what is "that ?" Hypocrisy, my dear Doctor.”— Johnson had a younger brother named Na- thaniel, who died at the age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Michael Johnson, the father, was chosen in the year 1718 Under Bailiff of Lichfield; and in the year 1725 he served the office of the Senior Bailiff. He had a brother of the name of Andrew, who, for some years, kept the ring at Smithfield, ap- propriated to wrestlers and boxers. Our au- thor used to say, that he was never thrown or conquered. Michael, the father, died De- cember 1731, at the age of seventy-six his mother at eighty-nine, of a gradual decay, in the year 1759. Of the family nothing more can be related worthy of notice. Johnson did not delight in talking of his relations. “There "is little pleasure," he said to Mrs. Piozzi, "in relating the anecdotes of beggary." B 4 Johnson 3 8 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Johnson derived from his parents, or from an unwholesome nurse, the distemper called the King's Evil. The Jacobites at that time believed in the efficacy of the royal touch; and accordingly Mrs. Johnson presented her son, when two years old, before Queen Anne, who, for the first time, performed that office, and communicated to her young patient all the healing virtue in her power. He was afterwards cut for that scrophulous hu- mour, and the under part of his face was seamed and disfigured by the operation. It is supposed, that this disease deprived him of the sight of his left eye, and also im- paired his hearing. At eight years old, he was placed under Mr. Hawkins, at the Free- school at Lichfield, where he was not re- markable for diligence or regular applica- tion. Whatever he read, his tenacious me- mory made his own. In the fields with his school-fellows he talked more talked more to himself than with his companions. In 1725, when he was about sixteen years old, he went on a visit to his cousin Cornelius Ford, who detained him for some months, and in the mean time assisted him in the classics. The general GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 9 general direction for his studies, which he then received, he related to Mrs. Piozzi. "Obtain," says Ford, " some general prin- 66 66 66 64 66 66 66 ciples of every science: he who can talk only on one subject, or act only in one de- partment, is seldom wanted, and, perhaps, never wished for; while the man of general knowledge can often benefit, and always please." The advice Johnson seems to have pursued with a good inclination. His reading was always desultory, seldom resting on any particular author, but rambling from one book to another, and, by hasty snatches, hoarding up a variety of knowledge. It may be proper in this place to mention another general rule laid down by Ford for Johnson's future conduct: "You will make your way "the more easily in the world, as you are contented to dispute no man's claim to "conversation-excellence: they will, there- fore, more willingly allow your preten- "sions as a writer." 66 But," says Mrs. Piozzi," the features of peculiarity, which “mark a character to all succeeding genera- ❝tions, are slow in coming to their growth." That ingenious lady adds, with her usual vivacity, "Can one, on such an occasion, 66 "forbear 10 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND forbear recollecting the predictions of Boi- "leau's father, who said, stroking the head 6 "of the young satirist, this little man has "too much wit, but he will never speak ill of ❝ any one'?" On Johnson's return from Cornelius Ford, Mr. Hunter, then master of the Free-school at Lichfield, refused to receive him again on that foundation. At this distance of time, what his reasons were, it is vain to enquire; but to refuse assistance to a lad of promising genius must be pronounced harsh and illibe- ral. It did not, however, stop the progress of the young student's education. He was placed at another school, at Stourbridge in Worcestershire, under the care of Mr. Went- worth. Having gone through the rudiments of classic literature, he returned to his father's house, and was probably intended for the trade of a bookseller. He has been heard to say that he could bind a book. At the end of two years, being then about nineteen, he went to assist the studies of a young gen- tleman, of the name of Corbet, to the Uni versity of Oxford; and on the 31st of Octo- ber, 1728, both were entered of Pembroke College; • GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 11 College; Corbet as a gentleman-commoner, and Johnson as a commoner. The college tutor, Mr. Jordan, was a man of no genius; and Johnson, it seems, showed an early con- tempt of mean abilities, in one or two in- stances behaving with insolence to that gentleman. Of his general conduct at the university there are no particulars that merit attention, except the translation of Pope's Messiah, which was a college exercise imposed upon him as a task by Mr. Jordan. Corbet left the university in about two years, and Johnson's salary ceased. He was, by conse- quence, straitened in his circumstances; but he still remained at college. Mr. Jordan, the tutor, went off to a living; and was succeed- ed by Dr. Adams, who afterwards became head of the college, and was esteemed through life for his learning, his talents, and his ami- able character. Johnson grew more regular in his attendance. Ethics, theology, and classic literature, were his favourite studies. He discovered, notwithstanding, early symp- toms of that wandering disposition of mind which adhered to him to the end of his life. His reading was by fits and starts, undirected to any particular science. General philology, agreeably 12 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND } agreeably to his cousin Ford's advice, was the object of his ambition. He received, at that time, an early impression of piety, and a taste for the best authors ancient and modern. It may, notwithstanding, be ques- tioned whether, except his Bible, he ever read a book entirely through. Late in life, if any man praised a book in his presence, he was sure to ask, "Did you read it through?" If the answer was in the affirmative, he did not seem willing to believe it. He continued at the university till the want of pecuniary supplies obliged him to quit the place. He obtained, however, the assistance of a friend, and returning in a short time was able to complete a residence of three years. The history of his exploits at Oxford, he used to say, was best known to Dr. Taylor and Dr. Adams. Wonders are told of his memory, and, indeed, all who knew him late in life can witness that he retained that faculty in the greatest vigour. From the university Johnson returned to Lichfield. His father died soon after, De- cember 1731; and the whole receipt out of his effects, as appeared by a memorandum in GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 13 in the son's hand-writing, dated 15th June, 1732, was no more than twenty pounds *. In this exigence, determined that poverty should neither depress his spirits nor warp his integrity, he became under-master of a Grammar-school at Market Bosworth in Leicestershire. That resource, however, did not last long. Disgusted by the pride of Sir Wolstan Dixie, the patron of that little se- minary, he left the place in discontent, and ever after spoke of it with abhorrence. In 1733 he went on a visit to Mr. Hector, who had been his school-fellow, and was then a surgeon at Birmingham, lodging at the house of Warren, a bookseller. At that place Johnson translated a Voyage to Abyssinia, written by Jerome Lobo, a Portugueze mis- sionary. This was the first literary work from the pen of Dr. Johnson. His friend Hector was occasionally his amanuensis. The • * The entry of this is remarkable for his early resolu- tion to preserve through life a fair and upright character. 1732, Junii 15. Undecim aureos deposui, quo die, quid- 66 (" quid ante matris funus (quod serum sit precor) de pa- "ternis bonis sperare licet, viginti scilicet libras, accepi. (( Usque adeo mihi mea fortuna fingenda est interea, et "ne paupertate vires animi languescant, ne in flagitia egestas adigat, cavendum." work 14 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND work was, probably, undertaken at the desire of Warren, the bookseller, and was printed at Birmingham; but it appears in the Lite- rary Magazine, or History of the Works of the Learned, for March, 1735, that it was published by Bettesworth and Hitch, Pater- noster-row. It contains a narrative of the endeavours of a company of missionaries to convert the people of Abyssinia to the Church of Rome. In the preface to this work Johnson observes, "that the Portu- 66 guese traveller, contrary to the general "view of his countrymen, has amused his "readers with no romantic absurdities, or “incredible fictions. He appears, by his "modest and unaffected narration, to have "described things as he saw them; to have 66 copied nature from the life; and to have "consulted his senses, not his imagination. "He meets with no basilisks, that destroy "with their eyes; his crocodiles devour "their prey, without tears; and his cata- "racts fall from the rock, without deafening "the neighbouring inhabitants. The reader "will here find no regions cursed with ir- "remediable barrenness, or blessed with 66 spontaneous fecundity; no perpetual gloom, 66 or GENÍUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 15 CC or unceasing sun-shine; nor are the na- "tions, here described, either void of all "sense of humanity, or consummate in all 66 private and social virtues; here are no "Hottentots without religion, polity, or ar- "ticulate language; no Chinese perfectly polite, and completely skilled in all sci- 66 66 ences; he will discover, what will always "be discovered by a diligent and impartial enquirer, that wherever human nature is 66 66 to be found, there is a mixture of vice and "virtue, a contest of passion and reason; "and that the Creator doth not appear par- "tial in his distributions, but has balanced, "in most countries, their particular incon- "veniences by particular favours."-We have here an early specimen of Johnson's manner: the vein of thinking and the frame of the sentences are manifestly his we see the infant Hercules. The translation of Lobo's Narrative has been reprinted lately in a sepa- rate volume, with some other tracts of Dr. Johnson's, and therefore forms no part of this edition; but a compendious account of so interesting a work as Father Lobo's dis- covery of the head of the Nile will not, it is imagined, be unacceptable to the reader. Father 1 16 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Father Lobo, the Portuguese Missionary, embarked, in 1622, in the same fleet with the Count Vidigueira, who was appointed, by the king of Portugal, Viceroy of the Indies. They arrived at Goa; and, in January 1624, Father Lobo set out on the mission to Abys- sinia. Two of the Jesuits, sent on the same commission, were murdered in their attempt to penetrate into that empire. Lobo had better success: he surmounted all difficulties, and made his way into the heart of the country. Then follows a description of Abys- sinia, formerly the largest empire of which we have an account in history. It extended from the Red Sea to the kingdom of Congo, and from Ægypt to the Indian Sea, con- taining no less than forty provinces. At the time of Lobo's mission, it was not much larger than Spain, consisting then but of five kingdoms, of which part was entirely subject to the Emperor, and part paid him a tribute, as an acknowledgement. The provinces were inhabited by Moors, Pagans, Jews, and Christians. The last was in Lobo's time the established and reigning religion. The diversity of people and religion is the reason why GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 17 why the kingdom was under different forms of government, with laws and customs ex- tremely various. Some of the people neither sowed their land, nor improved them by any kind of culture, living upon milk and flesh, and, like the Arabs, encamping without any settled habitation. In some places they practised no rites of worship, though they believed that, in the regions above, there dwells a Being that governs a world. This Deity they call in their language Oul. The Christianity, professed by the people in some parts, is so corrupted with superstitions, errors, and heresies, and so mingled with ceremonies borrowed from the Jews, that little, besides the name of Christianity, is to be found among them. The Abyssins cannot pro- perly be said to have either cities or houses; they live in tents or cottages made of straw or clay, very rarely building with stone. Their villages or towns consist of these huts; yet even of such villages they have but few, because the grandees, the viceroys, and the emperor himself, are always in camp, that they may be prepared, upon the most sudden alarm, to meet every emergence in a country which is engaged every year VOL. I. either C 18 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND either in foreign wars or intestine commo- tions. Ethiopia produces very near the same kinds of provision as Portugal, though, by the extreme laziness of the inhabitants, in a much less quantity. What the ancients ima- gined of the torrid zone being a part of the world uninhabitable, is so far from being true, that the climate is very temperate. The blacks have better features than in other countries, and are not without wit and in- genuity. Their apprehension is quick, and their judgement sound. There are in this climate two harvests in the year: one in winter, which lasts through the months of July, August, and September; the other in the spring. They have, in the greatest plenty, raisins, peaches, pomegranates, sugar-canes, and some figs. Most of these are ripe about Lent, which the Abyssins keep with great strictness. The animals of the country are the lion, the elephant, the rhinoceros, the unicorn, horses, mules, oxen, and cows with- out number. They have a very particular custom, which obliges every man, that has a thousand cows, to save every year one day's milk of all his herd, and make a bath with it for his relations. This they do so many days GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON.. 19 days in each year, as they have thousands of cattle; so that, to express how rich a man is, they tell you, he bathes so many times. "Of the river Nile, which has furnished so much controversy, we have a full and clear description. It is called by the natives, ABAVI, the Father of Water. It rises in SACALA, a province of the kingdom of Go1- AMA, the most fertile and agreeable part of the Abyssinian dominions. On the Eastern side of the country, on the declivity of a mountain, whose descent is so easy, that it seems a beautiful plain, is that source of the Nile, which has been sought after at so much expence and labour. This spring, or rather these two springs, are two holes, each about two feet diameter, a stone's cast dis- tant from each other. One of them is about five feet and a half in depth. Lobo was not able to sink his plummet lower, per- haps, because it was stopped by roots, the whole place being full of trees. A line of ten feet did not reach the bottom of the other. These springs are supposed by the Abyssins to be the vents of a great subter- raneous lake. At a small distance to the South, C 2 ୭୦ AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND South, is a village called Guix, through which you ascend to the top of the moun- tain, where there is a little hill, which the idolatrous Agaci hold in great veneration. Their priest calls them together to this place once a year; and every one sacrifices a cow, or more, according to the different degrees of wealth and devotion. Hence we have sufficient proof, that these nations always paid adoration to the Deity of this famous river. "As to the course of the Nile, its waters, after their first rise, run towards the East, about the length of a musket-shot; then, turning Northward, continue hidden in the grass and weeds for about a quarter of a league, when they re-appear amongst a quan- tity of rocks. The Nile from its source proceeds with so inconsiderable a current, that it is in danger of being dried up by the hot season; but soon receiving an increase from the GEMMA, the KELTU, the BRANSA, and the other smaller rivers, it expands to such a breadth in the plains of Boad, which is not above three days journey from its source, that a musket-ball will scarcely fly from GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 21 from one bank to the other. Here it begins to run Northward, winding, however, a little to the East, for the space of nine or ten leagues, and then enters the so-much-talked- of Lake of DAMBIA, flowing with such vio- lent rapidity, that its waters may be distin- guished through the whole passage, which is no less than six leagues. Here begins the greatness of the Nile. Fifteen miles farther, in the land of ALATA, it rushes precipitately from the top of a high rock, and forms one of the most beautiful water-falls in the world. Lobo says, he passed under it without being wet, and resting himself, for the sake of the coolness, was charmed with a thousand de- lightful rainbows, which the sun-beams painted on the water, in all their shining and lively colours*. The fall of this mighty *This, Mr. Bruce, the late traveller, avers to be a down- right falsehood. He says, a deep pool of water reaches to the very foot of the rock; and, allowing that there was a seat or bench (which there is not) in the middle of the pool, it is absolutely impossible, by any exertion of human strength, to have arrived at it. But it may be asked, can Mr. Bruce say what was the face of the country in the year 1622, when Lobo saw the magnificent sight which he has described? Mr. Bruce's pool of water may have been formed since; and Lobo, perhaps, was content to sit down without a bench. C 3 stream, 22 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND stream, from so great a height, makes a noise that may be heard at a considerable distance; but it was not found, that the neighbouring inhabitants were deaf. After the cataract, the Nile collects its scattered stream among the rocks, which are so near each other, that, in Lobo's time, a bridge of beams, on which the whole which the whole imperial army passed, was laid over them. Sultan SEQUED has since built a stone bridge of one arch, in the same place, for which purpose he procured masons from India. Here the river alters its course, and passes through various kingdoms, such as AMHARA, OLACA, CHOAA, DAMOT, and the kingdom of Go1- AMA, and, after various windings, returns within a short day's journey of its spring. To pursue it through all its mazes, and ac- company it round the kingdom of GOIAMA, is a journey of twenty-nine days. From Abyssinia, the river passes into the countries of FAZULO and OмBARCA, two vast regions little known, inhabited by nations entirely different from the Abyssins. Their hair, like that of the other blacks in those regions, is short and curled. In the year 1615, RAS- SELA CHRISTOS, Lieutenant-general to Sultan GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 23 t Sultan SEQUED, entered those kingdoms in a hostile manner; but, not being able to get intelligence, returned without attempting any thing. As the empire of Abyssinia ter- minates at these descents, Lobo followed the course of the Nile no farther, leaving it to rage over barbarous kingdoms, and con- vey wealth and plenty into Ægypt, which owes to the annual inundations of this river its envied fertility*. Lobo knows nothing of the Nile in the rest of its passage, except that it receives great increase from many other rivers, has several cataracts like that already described, and that few fish are to be found in it; that scarcity is to be attri- buted to the river-horse and the crocodile, which destroy the weaker inhabitants of the river. Something, likewise, must be imput- ed to the cataracts, where fish cannot fall without being killed. Lobo adds, that nei- ther he, nor any with whom he conversed about the crocodile, ever saw him weep; and * After comparing this description with that lately given by Mr. Bruce, the reader will judge whether Lobo is to lose the honour of having been at the head of the Nile near two centuries before any other European traveller. C 4 therefore 24 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND therefore all that hath been said about his tears must be ranked among the fables in- vented for the amusement of children. "As to the causes of the inundations of the Nile, Lobo observes, that many an idle hypothesis has been framed. Some theorists ascribe it to the high winds, that stop the current, and force the water above its banks. Others pretend a subterraneous communica- tion between the Ocean and the Nile, and that the sea, when violently agitated, swells the river. Many are of opinion, that this mighty flood proceeds from the melting of the snow on the mountains of Ethiopia; but so much snow and such prodigious heat are never met with in the same region. Lobo never saw snow in Abyssinia, except on Mount SEMEN in the kingdom of TIGRE, very remote from the Nile; and on NA- MARA, which is, indeed, not far distant, but where there never falls snow enough to wet, when dissolved, the foot of the mountain. To the immense labours of the Portuguese, mankind is indebted for the knowledge of the real cause of these inundations, so great and so regular. By them we are informed, 24 that GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 25 that Abyssinia, where the Nile rises, is full of mountains, and, in its natural situation, is much higher than Egypt; that in the winter, from June to September, no day is without rain; that the Nile receives in its course, all the rivers, brooks, and torrents, that fall from those mountains, and, by ne- cessary consequence, swelling above its banks, fills the plains of Egypt with inundations, which come regularly about the month of July, or three weeks after the beginning of the rainy season in Ethiopia. The different degrees of this flood are such certain indica- tions of the fruitfulness or sterility of the en- suing year, that it is publicly proclaimed at Cairo how much the water hath gained during the night." Such is the account of the Nile and its inundations, which it is hoped, will not be deemed an improper or tedious digression, especially as the whole is an extract from Johnson's translation. He is all the time the actor in the scene, and in his own words re- lates the story. Having finished this work, he returned in February, 1734, to his native city, and, in the month of August follow- ing, 96 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND ing, published Proposals for printing by subscription the Latin Poems of Politian, with the History of Latin Poetry, from the Era of Petrarch to the time of Politian ; and also the Life of Politian, to be added by the Editor, Samuel Johnson. The book to be printed in thirty octavo sheets, price five shillings. It is to be regretted that this pro- ject failed for want of encouragement. John- son, it seems, differed from Boileau, Voltaire, and D'Alembert, who have taken upon them to proscribe all modern efforts to write with elegance in a dead language. For a decision pronounced in so high a tone, no good reason can be assigned. The interests of learning require, that the diction of Greece and Rome should be cultivated with care; and he who can write a language with cor- rectness, will be most likely to understand its idiom, its grammar, and its peculiar graces of style. What man of taste would willingly forego the pleasure of reading Vida, Fracastorius, Sannazaro, Strada, and others, down to the late elegant productions of Bishop Lowth? The history which Johnson proposed to himself would, beyond all ques- tion, have been a valuable addition to the history GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 27 history of letters; but his project failed. His next expedient was to offer his assistance to Cave, the original projector of the Gentle- man's Magazine. For this purpose he sent his proposals in a letter, offering, on reason- able terms, occasionally to fill some pages with poems and inscriptions never printed before; with fugitive pieces that deserved to be revived, and critical remarks on authors ancient and modern. Cave agreed to retain him as a correspondent and contributor to the Magazine. What the conditions were cannot now be known; but, certainly, they were not sufficient to hinder Johnson from casting his eyes about him in quest of other employment. Accordingly, in 1735, he made overtures to the reverend Mr. Bud- worth, Master of a Grammar-school at Brere wood, in Staffordshire, to become his assistant. This proposition did not succeed. Mr. Bud- worth apprehended, that the involuntary motions, to which Johnson's nerves were subject, might make him an object of ridi- cule with his scholars, and, by consequence, lessen their respect for their master. Another mode of advancing himself presented itself about this time. Mrs. Porter, the widow of a mercer 28 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND a mercer in Birmingham, admired his ta- lents. It is said that she had about eight hundred pounds; and that sum to a person in Johnson's circumstances was an affluent fortune. A marriage took place; and, to turn his wife's money to the best advantage, he projected the scheme of an academy for education. Gilbert Walmsley, at that time Registrar of the Ecclesiastical Court of the Bishop of Lichfield, was distinguished by his erudition and the politeness of his manners. He was the friend of Johnson, and, by his weight and influence, endeavoured to pro- mote his interest. The celebrated Garrick, whose father, Captain Garrick, lived at Lichfield, was placed in the new seminary of education by that gentleman's advice.- Garrick was then about eighteen years old. An accession of seven or eight pupils was the most that could be obtained, though notice was given by a public advertisement * that at Edial, near Lichfield, in Stafford- shire, young Gentlemen are boarded and taught the Latin and Greek Languages, by Samuel Johnson. * See the Gentleman's Magazine for 1736, p. 418. The GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 29 The undertaking proved abortive. John- son, having now abandoned all hopes of pro- moting his fortune in the country, deter- mined to become an adventurer in the world at large. His young pupil, Garrick, had formed the same resolution; and, accord- ingly, in March, 1737, they arrived in Lon- don together. Two such candidates for fame perhaps never, before that day, entered the metropolis together. Their stock of money was soon exhausted. In his visionary project of an academy, Johnson had probably wasted his wife's substance; and Garrick's father had little more than his half-pay.- The two fellow-travellers had the world be- fore them, and each was to choose his road to fortune and to fame. They brought with them genius, and powers of mind, peculiarly formed by nature for the different voca- tions to which each of them felt himself in- clined. They acted from the impulse of young minds, even then meditating great things, and with courage anticipating success. Their friend Mr. Walmsley, by a letter to the Rev. Mr. Colson, who, it seems, was a great mathematician, exerted his good offices. in A 30 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND in their favour. He gave notice of their intended journey. "David Garrick," he said, "will be with you next week; and 66 86 Johnson, to try his fate with a tragedy, "and to get himself employed in some trans- "lation either from the Latin or French. "Johnson is a very good scholar and a poet, and, I have great hopes, will turn out a "fine tragedy-writer. If it should be in your 66 way, I doubt not but you will be ready to "recommend and assist your countrymen." Of Mr. Walmsley's merit, and the excellence of his character, Johnson has left a beautiful testimonial at the end of the life of Edward Smith. It is reasonable to conclude, that a mathematician, absorbed in abstract specula- tions, was not able to find a sphere of action for two men who were to be the architects of their own fortune. In three or four years afterwards Garrick came forth with talents that astonished the publick. He began his career at Goodman's-fields, and there, mon- stratus fatis Vespasianus! he chose a lucrative profession, and consequently soon emerged from all his difficulties. Johnson was left to toil in the humble walks of literature. A tragedy, as appears by Walmsley's letter, was the GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 31 the whole of his stock. This, most proba- bly, was IRENE; but, if then finished, it was doomed to wait for a more happy period. It was offered to Fleetwood, and rejected. Johnson looked round him for employment. Having, while he remained in the country, corresponded with Cave under a feigned name, he now thought it time to make him- self known to a man whom he considered as a patron of literature. Cave had announced, by publick advertisement, a prize of fifty pounds for the best poem on Life, Death, Judgement, Heaven, and Hell; and this circumstance diffused an idea of his liberality. Johnson became connected with him in busi- ness, and in a close and intimate acquaintance. Of Cave's character it is unnecessary to say any thing in this place, as Johnson was afterwards the biographer of his first and most useful patron. To be engaged in the translation of some important book was still the object which Johnson had in view. For this purpose he proposed to give the History of the Council of Trent, with copious notes then lately added to a French edition. Twelve sheets of this work were printed, for which Johnson received forty-nine pounds, as 32 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND as appears by his receipt in the possession of Mr. Nichols, the compiler of that en- tertaining and useful work, the Gentleman's Magazine. Johnson's translation was never completed; a like design was offered to the publick, under the patronage of Dr. Zachary Pearce; and by that contention both attempts were frustrated. Johnson had been commended by Pope for the transla- tion of the Messiah into Latin verse; but he knew no approach to so eminent a man.- With one, however, who was connected with Pope, he became acquainted at St. John's Gate; and that person was no other than the well-known Richard Savage, whose life was afterwards written by Johnson with great elegance, and a depth of moral reflec- tion. Savage was a man of considerable talents. His address, his various accomplish- ments, and, above all, the peculiarity of his misfortunes, recommended him to John- son's notice. They became united in the closest intimacy. Both had great parts, and they were equally under the pressure of want. Sympathy joined them in a league of friend- ship. Johnson has been often heard to relate, that he and Savage walked round Gros- venor GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 33 venor-square till four in the morning; in the course of their conversation reforming the world, dethroning princes, establishing new forms of government, and giving laws to the several states of Europe, till, fatigued at length with their legislative office, they began to feel the want of refreshment, but could not muster up more than four-pence- halfpenny. Savage, it is true, had many vices; but vice could never strike its roots in a mind like Johnson's, seasoned early with religion, and the principles of moral recti- tude. His first prayer was composed in the year 1738. He had not at that time re- nounced the use of wine; and, no doubt, occasionally enjoyed his friend and his bot- tle. The love of late hours, which followed him through life, was, perhaps, originally contracted in company with Savage. How- ever that may be, their connection was not of long duration. In the year 1738, Savage was reduced to the last distress. Mr. Pope, in a letter to him, expressed his concern for "the miserable withdrawing of his pension "after the death of the Queen;" and gave him hopes that, "in a short time he should "find himself supplied with a competence, VOL. I. D " without S 1 34 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "without any dependance on those little creatures, whom we are pleased to call the "Great." The scheme proposed to him C6 was, that he should retire to Swansea in Wales, and receive an allowance of fifty pounds a year, to be raised by subscription; Pope was to pay twenty pounds. This plan, though finally established, took more than a year before it was carried into execution. In the mean time, the intended retreat of Savage called to Johnson's mind the third satire of Juvenal, in which that poet takes leave of a friend, who was withdrawing himself from all the vices of Rome. Struck with this idea he wrote that well-known Poem, called London. The first lines manifestly point to Savage. CC Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel, "When injur'd Thales bids the town farewell; "Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice com- "mend; "I praise the hermit, but regret the friend: "Resolv'd at length, from Vice and London far, "To breathe in distant fields a purer air; "And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore, "Give to St. David one true Briton more. "9 Johnson GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON, 35 Johnson at that time lodged at Greenwich. He there fixes the scene, and takes leave of his friend; who, he says in his Life, parted from him with tears in his eyes. The poem, when finished, was offered to Cave. It hap- pened, however, that the late Mr. Dodsley was the purchaser at the price of ten guineas. It was published in 1738; and Pope, we are told, said, "The author, whoever he is, will not be long concealed;" alluding to the pas- sage in Terence, Ubi, ubi est, diu celari non potest. Notwithstanding that prediction, it does not appear that, besides the copy-money, any advantage accrued to the author of a poem, written with the elegance and energy of Pope. Johnson, in August 1738, went, with all the fame of his poetry, to offer him- self a candidate for the mastership of the school at Appleby, in Leicestershire. The statutes of the place required, that the person chosen should be a master of arts. To re- move this objection, the late Lord Gower was induced to write to a friend, in order to obtain for Johnson a master's degree in the University of Dublin, by the recommenda D 2 tion 36 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND tion of Dr. Swift. The letter was printed in one of the Magazines, and is as follows: .66 66 SIR, "Mr Samuel Johnson (author of London, "a satire, and some other poetical pieces,) is 66 46 66 66 a native of this county, and much respected by some worthy gentlemen in the neigh- "bourhood, who are trustees of a charity- school, now vacant; the certain salary of "which is sixty pounds per year, of which they are desirous to make him master; ❝ but unfortunately, he is not capable of re- ceiving their bounty, which would make "him happy for life, by not being a master "of arts, which, by the statutes of the school, "the master of it must be. 66 "Now these gentlemen do me the honour "to think, that I have interest enough “' in you, to prevail upon you to write to "Dean Swift, to persuade the University of "Dublin to send a diploma to me, consti- 66 tuting this poor man master of arts in "their University. They highly extol the "man's learning and probity; and will not "be persuaded, that the University will make any difficulty of conferring such a "favour upon a stranger, if he is recom- "mended GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 37 "mended by the Dean. They say, he is "not afraid of the strictest examination, "though he is of so long a journey; and yet he will venture it, if the Dean thinks "it necessary, chusing rather to die upon the 66 66 • road, than to be starved to death in trans- lating for booksellers, which has been his only subsistence for some time past. "I fear there is more difficulty in this "affair than these good-natured gentlemen 66 apprehend, especially as their election can- 66 66 not be delayed longer than the 11th of "next month. If you see this matter in the same light that it appears to me, I hope you will burn this, and pardon me for giving you so much trouble about an impracticable thing; but, if you think there is a pro- 66 46 64 66 bability of obtaining the favour asked, I am sure your humanity and propensity to “relieve merit in distress will incline you to 66 66 66 serve the poor man, without my adding any more to the trouble I have already given you, than assuring you, that I am, "with great truth, Sir, "Your faithful humble servant, "Trentham, Aug. 1st." Į "GOWER. ور D 3 is 38 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND This scheme miscarried. There is reason to think, that Swift declined to meddle in the business; and to that circumstance Johnson's known dislike of Swift has been often imputed. It is mortifying to pursue a man of merit through all his difficulties; and yet this nar- rative must be, through many following years, the history of Genius and Virtue struggling with Adversity. Having lost, the school at Appleby, Johnson was thrown back on the metropolis. Bred to no profession, with- out relations, friends, or interest, he was condemned to drudgery in the service of Cave, his only patron. In November 1738 was published a translation of Crousa's Examen of Pope's Essay on Man; "con- taining a succinct View of the System of the Fatalists, and a Confutation of their 66 Opinions; with an Illustration of the "Doctrine of Free Will; and an Enquiry, "what view Mr. Pope might have in touch- 66 CC وو ing upon the Leibnitzian Philosophy, and "Fatalism. By Mr. Crousaz, Professor of Philosophy and Mathematics at Lausanne. This translation has been generally thought a production GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON, 39 production of Johnson's pen; but it is now known, that Mrs. Elizabeth Carter has ac- knowledged it to be one of her early perfor- mances. It is certain, however, that Johnson was eager to promote the publication. He considered the foreign philosopher as a man zealous in the cause of religion; and with him he was willing to join against the system of the Fatalists, and the doctrine of Leibnitz. It is well known that Warburton wrote a vindication of Mr. Pope; but there is reason to think, that Johnson conceived an early prejudice against the Essay on Man; and what once took root in a mind like his, was not easily eradicated. His letter to Cave on this subject is still extant, and may well justify Sir John Hawkins, who inferred that Johnson was the translator of Crousaz. The conclusion of the letter is remarkable. "I am yours, IMPRANSUS." If by that Latin word was meant that he had not dined, because he wanted the means, who can read it, even at this hour, without an aching heart? With a mind naturally vigorous, and quick- ened by necessity, Johnson formed a multi- plicity of projects; but most of them proved abortive. D 4 40 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND abortive. A number of small tracts issued as 66 on from his pen with wonderful rapidity; such " MARMOR NORFOLCIENSE; or an Essay an ancient prophetical Inscription, in "Monkish. Rhyme, discovered at Lynn in "Norfolk. By Probus Britannicus." This was a pamphlet against Sir Robert Walpole. According to Sir John Hawkins, a warrant was issued to apprehend the Author, who re- tired with his wife to an obscure lodging near Lambeth Marsh, and there eluded the search of the messengers. But this story has no foundation in truth. Johnson was never known to mention such an incident in his life; and Mr. Steele (late of the Treasury) caused diligent search to be made at the proper offices, and no trace of such a pro- ceeding could be found. In the same year (1739) the Lord Chamberlain prohibited the representation of a tragedy, called GUSTAVUS VASA, by Henry Brooke. Under the mask of irony Johnson published, " A Vindication of the Licenser from the malicious and "scandalous Aspersions of Mr. Brooke," Of these two pieces Sir John Hawkins says, "they have neither learning nor wit; nor a "single ray of that genius which has since ❝ blazed GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 41 "blazed forth;" but, as they have been lately re-printed, the reader, who wishes to gratify his curiosity, is referred to the fourteenth volume of Johnson's works, published by Stockdale. The lives of Boerhaave, Blake, Barratier, Father Paul, and others, were, about that time, printed in the Gentleman's Magazine. The subscription of fifty pounds a year for Savage was completed; and in July, 1739, Johnson parted with the companion of his midnight hours, never to see him more. The separation was, perhaps, an advantage to him, who wanted to make a right use of his time, and even then beheld with self- reproach the waste occasioned by dissipation, His abstinence from wine and strong liquors began soon after the departure of Savage. What habits he contracted in the course of that acquaintance cannot now be known. The ambition of excelling in conversation, and that pride of victory, which, at times, disgraced a man of Johnson's genius, were, perhaps, native blemishes. A fierce spirit of independence, even in the midst of poverty, may be seen in Savage; and, if not thence transfused by Johnson into his own manners, it may, at least, be supposed to have gained strength 1 42 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND strength from the example before him. During that connection there was, if we believe Sir John Hawkins, a short separation between our author and his wife; but a reconciliation soon took place. Johnson loved her, and shewed his affection in various modes of gal- lantry, which Garrick used to render ridi- culous by his mimicry. The affectation of soft and fashionable airs did not become an unwieldy figure: his admiration was received by the wife with the flutter of an antiquated coquette; and both, it is well known, fur- nished matter for the lively genius of Garrick. It is a mortifying reflection, that Johnson, with a store of learning and extraordinary talents, was not able, at the age of thirty, to force his way to the favour of the publick. Slow rises worth by poverty depress'd. " He "was still," as he says himself, " to provide "for the day that was passing over him." He saw Cave involved in a state of warfare with the numerous competitors, at that time struggling with the Gentleman's Magazine; and gratitude for such supplies as Johnson received GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 43 received dictated a Latin Ode on the subject of that contention. The first lines, "Urbane, nullis fesse laboribus, "Urbane, nullus victe calumniis, "" put one in mind of Casimir's Ode to Pope Urban: "Urbane, regum maxime, maxime "Urbane vatum." The Polish poet was, probably, at that time in the hands of a man who had meditated the history of the Latin poets. Guthrie the his- torian had from July 1736 composed the par- liamentary speeches for the Magazine; but, from the beginning of the session which opened on the 19th of November, 1740, Johnson succeeded to that department, and continued it from that time to the debate on spirituous liquors, which happened in the House of Lords in February, 1742-3. The eloquence, the force of argument, and the splendor of language, displayed in the several speeches, are well known, and universally admired. The whole has been collected in two volumes by Mr. Stockdale, and may form a proper supplement to this edition. That Johnson was 44 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND ! was the author of the debates during that period was not generally known; but the secret transpired several years afterwards, and was avowed by himself on the following oc- casion. Mr. Wedderburne (now Lord Lough- borough*), Dr. Johnson, Dr. Francis (the translator of Horace), the present writer, and others, dined with the late Mr. Foote. An important debate towards the end of Sir Robert Walpole's administration being men- tioned, Dr. Francis observed, "That Mr. "Pitt's speech, on that occasion, was the best " he had ever read." He added, "That he "had employed eight years of his life in the 66 study of Demosthenes, and finished a trans- "lation of that celebrated orator, with all the "decorations of style and language within "the reach of his capacity; but he had met "with nothing equal to the speech above- " mentioned." Many of the company re- membered the debate; and some passages were cited, with the approbation and applause of all present. During the ardour of con- versation Johnson remained silent. As soon as the warmth of praise subsided, he opened with these words: "That speech I wrote in * Afterwards Earl of Roslin. He died Jan. 3, 1805. a garret 1 GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 45. a garret in Exeter-street." The company was struck with astonishment. After staring at each other in silent amaze, Dr. Francis asked, "How that speech could be written “by 6:6 by him?" "Sir," said Johnson, “I wrote "it in Exeter-street. I never had been "in the gallery of the House of Commons. "but once. Cave had interest with the door- keepers. He, and the persons employed "under him, gained admittance: they brought away the subject of discussion, "the names of the speakers, the side they took, and the order in which they rose, to- 66 66 66 gether with notes of the arguments ad◄ "vanced in the course of the debate. The "whole was afterwards communicated to me, " and I composed the speeches in the form "which they now have in the Parliamentary "debates." To this discovery Dr. Francis made answer: "Then, Sir, you have exceeded De- "mosthenes himself; for to say, that you have "exceeded Francis's Demosthenes, would be 66 saying nothing." The rest of the company bestowed lavish encomiums on Johnson: one, in particular, praised his impartiality; ob- serving, that he dealt out reason and elo- quence 46 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND -3 quence with an equal hand to both parties. "That is not quite true," said Johnson; “I "saved appearances tolerably well; but I "took care that the wHIG DOGS should not "have the best of it." The sale of the Ma- gazine was greatly increased by the Parlia mentary debates, which were continued by Johnson till the month March, 1742-3. From that time the Magazine was conducted by Dr. Hawkesworth. In 1743-4, Osborne, the bookseller, who kept a shop in Gray's-Inn, purchased the Earl of Oxford's library, at the price of thir teen thousand pounds. He projected a cata- logue in five octavo volumes, at five shillings each. Johnson was employed in that painful drudgery. He was likewise to collect all such small tracts as were in any degree worth pre- serving, in order to reprint and publish the whole in a collection, called "The Harleian 66 Miscellany." The catalogue was completed; and the Miscellany in 1749 was published in eight quarto volumes. In this business John- son was a day-labourer for immediate sub- sistence, not unlike Gustavus Vasa working in i GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 47 in the mines of Dalicarlia. What Wilcox, a bookseller of eminence in the Strand, said to Johnson, on his first arrival in town, was now almost confirmed. He lent our author five guineas, and then asked him, "How do 66 66 you mean to earn your livelihood in this town?" "By my literary labours," was the answer. Wilcox, staring at him, shook his head: "By your literary labours!-You "had better buy a porter's knot." Johnson used to tell this anecdote to Mr. Nichols ; but he said, Wilcox was one of my best "friends, and he meant well." In fact, Johnson, while employed in Gray's-Inn, may be said to have carried a porter's knot. He paused occasionally to peruse the book that came to his hand. Osborne thought that such curiosity tended to nothing but delay, and objected to it with all the pride and in- solence of a man, who knew that he paid daily wages. In the dispute that of course ensued, Osborne, with that roughness which was natural to him, enforced his argument by giving the lie. Johnson seized a folio, and knocked the bookseller down. This story has been related as an instance of Johnson's ferocity; but merit cannot cannot always take ! the 48 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND the spurns of the unworthy with a patient spirit ** That the history of an author must be found in his works is, in general, a true ob- servation; and was never more apparent than in the present narrative. Every æra of John- son's life is fixed by his writings. In 1744, he published the life of Savage; and then projected a new edition of Shakspeare. As a prelude to this design, he published, in 1745, Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth, with Remarks on Sir Thomas Hanmer's Edition; to which were prefixed, Proposals for a new Edition of Shakspeare, with a Specimen. Of this pamphlet War- burton, in the Preface to Shakspeare, has given his opinion: "As to all those things, "which have been published under the title "of Essays, Remarks, Observations, &c. on Shakspeare, if you except some critical notes "on Macbeth, given as a specimen of a pro- jected edition, and written, as appears, by sk 66 66 a man Mr. Boswell says, "The simple truth I had from Johnson himself. 6 Sir, he was impertinent to me, and I beat him. But it was not in his shop; it was in my own chamber'” GENÍUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 49 6C a man of parts and genius, the rest are ab- solutely below a serious notice." But the attention of the public was not excited; there was no friend to promote a subscription; and the project died to revive at a future day. A new undertaking, however, was soon after proposed; namely, an English Dictionary upon an enlarged plan. Several of the most opulent booksellers had meditated a work of this kind; and the agreement was soon ad- justed between the parties. Emboldened by this connection, Johnson thought of a better habitation than he had hitherto known. He had lodged with his wife in courts and alleys about the Strand; but now, for the purpose of carrying on his arduous undertaking, and to be near his printer and friend Mr. Strahan, he ventured to take a house in Gough-square, Fleet-street. He was told that the Earl of Chesterfield was a friend to his undertaking; and in consequence of that intelligence, he published, in 1747, The Plan of a Dictionary of the English Language, addressed to the Right Honourable Philip Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield, one of his Majesty's principal Secretaries of State. Mr. Whitehead, after- wards Poet Laureat, undertook to convey the VOL. I. E manuscript 50% AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND manuscript to his Lordship: the consequence was an invitation from Lord Chesterfield to the Author. A stronger contrast of characters could not be brought together; the Noble- man celebrated for his wit, and all the graces of polite behaviour; the Author, conscious of his own merit, towering in idea above all competition, versed in scholastic logic, but a stranger to the arts of polite conversation, uncouth, vehement, and vociferous. The co- alition was too unnatural. Johnson expected a Mæcenas, and was disappointed. No pa- tronage, no assistance followed. Visits were repeated; but the reception was not cordial, Johnson one day was left a full hour, waiting in an anti-chamber, till a gentleman should retire, and leave his lordship at leisure. This was the famous Colley Cibber. Johnson. saw him go, and fired with indignation, rushed out of the house. What Lord Chesterfield thought of his visitor may be seen in a passage in one of that Nobleman's letters to his son †. "There is a man, whose moral character, 66 deep learning, and superior parts, I ac- knowledge, { 66 * Dr. Johnson denies the whole of this story. See. Boswell's Life, vol. i. p. 128. Oct. Edit. 1804. + Letter CCXII. C. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 51 “knowledge, admire, and respect; but whom "it is so impossible for me to love, that I am almost in a fever whenever I am in his 66 66 company. His figure (without being de- "formed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule "the common structure of the human body. "His legs and arms are never in the position which, according to the situation of his body, they ought to be in, but constantly 66 66 66 66 employed in committing acts of hostility upon the Graces. He throws any where, "but down his throat, whatever he means to "drink; and mangles what he means to carve. “Inattentive to all the regards of social life, ❝he mis-times and mis-places every thing. "He disputes with heat indiscriminately, "mindless of the rank, character, and situation "of those with whom he disputes. Absolutely ignorant of the several gradations of fa- 66 66 miliarity and respect, he is exactly the same "to his superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; "and therefore, by a necessary consequence, "is absurd to two of the three. Is it possible "to love such a man? No. The utmost I can "do for him is, to consider him a respectable "Hottentot." Such was the idea entertained by Lord Chesterfield. After the incident of E 2 Colley AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Colley Cibber, Johnson never repeated his visits. In his high and decisive tone, he has been often heard to say, "Lord Chesterfield " is a Wit among Lords, and a Lord among " Wits.' وو In the course of the year 1747, Garrick, in conjunction with Lacy, became patentee of Drury-lane Playhouse. For the opening of the theatre, at the usual time, Johnson wrote for his friend the well-known prologue, which, to say no more of it, may at least be placed on a level with Pope's to the tragedy of Cato. The playhouse being now under Garrick's direction, Johnson thought the op- portunity fair to think of his tragedy of Irene, which was his whole stock on his first arrival in town, in the year 1737. That play was accordingly put into rehearsal in January, 1749. As a precursor to prepare the way, and to awaken the public attention, The Vanity of Human Wishes, a Poem in Imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal, by the Author of London, was published in the same month. In the Gentleman's Magazine, for February 1749, we find that the tragedy of Irene was acted at Drury-lane, on Monday, February the GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 53 the 6th, and from that time, without in- terruption, to Monday, February the 20th, being in all thirteen nights. Since that time it has not been exhibited on any stage. Irene may be added to some other plays in our language, which have lost their place in the theatre, but continue to please in the closet. During the representation of this piece, John- son attended every night behind the scenes. Conceiving that his character as an author required some ornament for his person, he chose, upon that occasion, to decorate himself with a handsome waistcoat, and a gold-laced hat. The late Mr. Topham Beauclerc, who had a great deal of that humour which pleases the more for seeming undesigned, used to give a pleasant description of this Green- room finery, as related by the author him- self; "But," said Johnson, with great gravity, "I soon laid aside my gold-laced hat, lest it "should make me proud." The amount of the three benefit nights for the tragedy of Irene, it is to be feared, was not very con- siderable, as the profit, that stimulating motive, never invited the author to another dramatic attempt. Some years afterwards, when the present writer was intimate with Garrick, E 3 54 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Garrick, and knew Johnson to be in dis- tress, he asked the manager why he did not produce another tragedy for his Lichfield friend? Garrick's answer was remarkable: "When Johnson writes tragedy, declamation roars, and passion sleeps: when Shakspeare 65 .. wrote, he dipped his pen in his own heart." There may, perhaps, be a degree of same- ness in this regular way of tracing an author from one work to another, and the reader may feel the effect of a tedious monotony; but in the life of Johnson there are no other landmarks. He was now forty years old, and had mixed but little with the world. He followed no profession, transacted no business, and was a stranger to what is called a town-life. We are now arrived at the brightest period he had hitherto known. His name broke out upon mankind with a degree of lustre that promised a triumph over all his difficulties. The Life of Savage was admired as a beautiful and instructive piece of biography. The two imitations of Juvenal were thought to rival even the excellence of Pope; and the tragedy of Irene, though un- interesting on the stage, was universally 2 admired GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 55 admired in the closet, for the propriety of the sentiments, the richness of the language, and the general harmony of the whole compo- sition. His fame was widely diffused; and he had made his agreement with the book- sellers for his English Dictionary at the sum of fifteen hundred guineas; part of which was to be, from time to time, advanced in pro- portion to the progress of the work. This was a certain fund for his support, without being obliged to write fugitive pieces for the petty supplies of the day. Accordingly we find that, in 1749, he established a club, con- sisting of ten in number, at Horseman's in Ivy-lane, on every Tuesday evening. This is the first scene of social life to which John- son can be traced out of his own house. The members of this little society were, Samuel Johnson; Dr. Salter (father of the late Master of the Charter-house); Dr. Hawkesworth; Mr. Ryland, a merchant; Mr. Payne, a bookseller, in Pater-noster-row; Mr. Samuel Dyer, a learned young man; Dr. William M'Ghie, a Scotch Physician; Dr. Edmund Barker, a young physician; Dr. Bathurst, another young young physician; and Sir John Hawkins. This list is given by Sir John, as J • * E 4 it 56 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND • it should seem, with no other view than to draw a spiteful and malevolent character of almost every one of them. Mr. Dyer, whom Sir John says he loved with the affection of a brother, meets with the harshest treatment, because it was his maxim, that to live in peace with mankind, and in a temper to do good offices, was the most essential part of our duty. That notion of moral goodness gave umbrage to Sir John Hawkins, and drew down upon the memory of his friend the bitterest im- putations. Mr. Dyer, however, was admired and loved through life. He was a man of literature. Johnson loved to enter with him into a discussion of metaphysical, moral, and critical subjects; in those conflicts, exercising his talents, and, according to his custom, al- ways contending for victory. Dr. Bathurst was the person on whom Johnson fixed his affec- tion. He hardly ever spoke of him without tears in his eyes. It was from him, who was a native of Jamaica, that Johnson received into his service Frank *, the black servant, whom, on account of his master, he valued to the end of his life. At the time of instituting the club in Ivy-lane, Johnson had projected * See Gent. Mag. vol. LXXI. p. 190. the : GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 57 the Rambler. The title was most probably suggested by the Wanderer; a poem which he mentions, with the warmest praise, in the Life of Savage. With the same spirit of in- dependence with which he wished to live, was now his pride to write. He communi- cated his plan to none of his friends; he de- sired no assistance, relying entirely on his own fund, and the protection of the Divine Being, which he implored in a solemn form of prayer, composed by himself for the oc- casion. Having formed a resolution to un- dertake a work that might be of use and honour to his country, he thought, with Milton, that this was not to be obtained" but 66 66 by devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit "that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and send out his seraphim. "with the hallowed fire of his altar, to "touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases." 66 Having invoked the special protection of Heaven, and by that act of piety fortified his mind, he began the great work of the Rambler. The first number was published on Tuesday, March the 20th, 1750; and from that time was 58 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND f was continued regularly every Tuesday and Saturday for the space of two years, when it finally closed on Saturday, March 14, 1752. As it began with motives of piety, so it appears that the same religious spirit glowed with unabating ardour to the last. His con- clusion is: "The Essays, professedly serious, “if I have been able to execute my own in- "tentions, will be found exactly conformable "to the precepts of Christianity, without $6 any accommodation to the licentiousness " and levity of the present age. I therefore "look back on this part of my work with pleasure, which no man shall diminish or 66 66 augment. I shall never envy the honours “which wit and learning obtain in any other 66 cause, if I can be numbered among the "writers who have given ardour to virtue, "and confidence to truth." The whole num- ber of Essays amounted to two hundred and eight. Addison's, in the Spectator, are more in number, but not half in point of quantity: Addison was not bound to publish on stated days; he could watch the ebb and flow of his genius, and send his paper to the press when his own taste was satisfied. Johnson's case was very different. He wrote singly and GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON.. 59 and alone. In the whole progress of the work he did not receive more than ten essays. This was a scanty contribution. For the rest, the author has described his situation. "He that condemns himself to compose on 66 66 a stated day, will often bring to his task an "attention dissipated, a memory embarrassed, an imagination overwhelmed, a mind dis- "tracted with anxieties, a body languishing "with disease: he will labour on a barren 66 topic, till it is too late to change it; or, in "the ardour of invention, diffuse his thoughts "into wild exuberance, which the pressing "hour of publication cannot suffer judgment “to examine or reduce." Of this excellent production the number sold on each day did not amount to five hundred of course the bookseller, who paid the author four guineas a week, did not carry on a successful trade. His generosity and perseverance deserve to be commended; and happily when the col- lection appeared in volumes, were amply re- warded. Johnson lived to see his labours flourish in a tenth edition. His posterity, as an ingenious French writer has said on a similar occasion, began in his lifetime. In 60 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND In the beginning of 1750, soon after the Rambler was set on foot, Johnson was in- duced by the arts of a vile impostor to lend his assistance, during a temporary delusion, to a fraud not to be paralleled in the annals of literature *. One LAUDER, a native of Scot- land, who had been a teacher in the Univer- sity of EDINBURGH, had conceived a mortal antipathy to the name and character of Milton. His reason was, because the prayer of Pamela, in Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, was, as he supposed, maliciously inserted by the great poet in an edition of the Eikon Basilike, in order to fix an imputation of im- piety on the memory of the murdered king. Fired with resentment, and willing to reap the profits of a gross imposition, this man collected from several Latin poets, such as Masenius the Jesuit, Staphorstius a Dutch divine, Beza, and others, all such passages as bore any kind of resemblance to different places in the Paradise Lost; and these he published, from time to time, in the Gen- tleman's * It has since been paralleled, in the case of the Shaks- peare MSS. by a yet more vile impostor. C. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 6t 1 66 C6 tleman's Magazine, with occasional interpo- lations of lines, which he himself translated from Milton. The public credulity swal- lowed all with eagerness; and Milton was supposed to be guilty of plagiarism from in- ferior modern writers. The fraud succeeded so well, that Lauder collected the whole into a volume, and advertised it under the title of "An Essay on Milton's Use and Imitation of the Moderns, in his Paradise Lost; de- "dicated to the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge." While the book was in the press, the proof-sheets were shewn to Johnson at the Ivy-lane Club, by Payne, the book- seller, who was one of the members. No man in that society was in possession of the authors from whom Lauder professed to make his extracts. The charge was believed, and the contriver of it found his way to John- son, who is represented by Sir John Hawkins, not indeed as an accomplice in the fraud, but, through motives of malignity to Milton, delighting in the detection, and exulting that the poet's reputation would suffer by the dis- covery. More malice to a deceased friend cannot well be imagined. Hawkins adds, "that he wished well to the argument must " be 62 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "be inferred from the preface, which indubi- 66 tably was written by him." The preface, it is well known, was written by Johnson, and for that reason is inserted in this edition. But if Johnson approved of the argument, it was no longer than while he believed it founded in truth. Let us advert to his own words in that very preface. Among the enquiries "to which the ardour of criticism has na- 66 66 66 turally given occasion, none is more obscure "in itself, or more worthy of rational cu- riosity, than a retrospection of the progress "of this mighty genius in the construction "of his work; a view of the fabrick gradually CS rising, perhaps from small beginnings, till "its foundation rests in the centre, and its "turrets sparkle in the skies; to trace back "the structure, through all its varieties, to "the simplicity of the first plan; to find what 66 was projected, whence the scheme was "taken, how it was improved, by what as- "sistance it was executed, and from what "stores the materials were collected; whether "its founder dug them from the quarries of nature, or demolished other buildings to "embellish his own." These were the mo- tives that induced Johnson to assist Lauder 66 - with GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 63 with a preface: and are not these the motives of a critic and a scholar? What reader of taste, what man of real knowledge, would not think his time well employed in an en- quiry so curious, so interesting, and instruc- tive? If Lauder's facts were really true, who would not be glad, without the smallest tincture of malevolence, to receive real in- formation? It is painful to be thus obliged to vindicate a man who, in his heart, towered above the petty arts of fraud and imposition, against an injudicious biographer, who under- took to be his editor, and the protector of his memory. Another writer, Dr. Towers, in an Essay on the Life and Character of Dr. Johnson, seems to countenance this calumny. He says, It can hardly be doubted, but that Johnson's aversion to Milton's politics was the cause of that alacrity with which he joined with Lauder in his infamous attack on our great epic poet, and which induced him to assist in that transaction. These words would seem to describe an accomplice, were they not immediately followed by an express de- claration, that Johnson was unacquainted with the imposture. Dr. Towers adds, It seems to 64 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND to have been by way of making some compen- sation to the memory of Milton, for the share he had in the attack of Lauder, that Johnson wrote the Prologue, spoken by Garrick, at Drury-lane theatre, 1750, on the performance of the Masque of Comus, for the benefit of Milton's grand-daughter. Dr. Towers is not free from prejudice; but, as Shakspeare has it," he begets a temperance, to give it smoothness." He is, therefore, entitled to a When Johnson wrote dispassionate answer. the prologue, it does appear that he was aware of the malignant artifices practised by Lauder. In the postscript to Johnson's pre- face, a subscription is proposed, for relieving the grand-daughter of the author of Paradise Lost. Dr. Towers will agree that this shews Johnson's alacrity in doing good. That ala- crity shewed itself again in the letter printed in the European Magazine, January, 1785, and there said to have appeared originally in the General Advertiser, 4th April, 1750, by which the public were invited to em- brace the opportunity of paying a just regard to the illustrious dead, united with the plea- sure of doing good to the living. The letter adds, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 65 66 adds, "To assist industrious indigence, strug- gling with distress, and debilitated by age, "is a display of virtue, and an acquisition of happiness and honour. Whoever, there- "fore, would be thought capable of plea- 66 66 66 66 sure in reading the works of our incom- parable Milton, and not so destitute of gratitude as to refuse to lay out a trifle, in a rational and elegant entertainment, for "the benefit of his living remains, for the "exercise of their own virtue, the increase "of their reputation, and the consciousness. "of doing good, should appear at Drury- "lane Theatre, to-morrow, April 5, when "COMUS will be performed for the benefit of "Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, grand-daughter to "the author, and the only surviving branch "of his family. Nota bene, there will be a 66 new prologue on the occasion, written by "the author of Irene, and spoken by Mr. "Garrick." The man, who had thus ex- erted himself to serve the grand-daughter, cannot be supposed to have entertained per- sonal malice to the grand-father. It is true, that the malevolence of Lauder, as well as the impostures of Archibald Bower, were fully detected by the labours, in the cause VOL. I. F of 66 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND of truth, of the Rev. Dr. Douglas, now Lord Bishop of Salisbury. "Diram qui contudit Hydram, Notaque fatali portenta labore subegit." But the pamphlet, entituled, Milton vindi- cated from the Charge of Plagiarism brought against him by Mr. Lauder, and Lauder him- self convicted of several Forgeries and gross Impositions on the Publick, by John Douglas, M. A. Rector of Eaton Constantine, Salop, was not published till the year 1751. In that work, p. 77, Dr. Douglas says, "It is to "be hoped, nay, it is expected, that the ele- gant and nervous writer, whose judicious "sentiments and inimitable style point out "the author of Lauder's preface and post- 66 66 GC 66 script, will no longer allow A MAN to plume himself with his feathers, who ap- pears so little to have deserved his assist- ance; an assistance which I am persuaded "would never have been communicated, had there been the least suspicion of those "facts, which I have been the instrument "of conveying to the world." We have here a contemporary testimony to the inte grity of Dr. Johnson throughout the whole 20 - of GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 67 а of that vile transaction. What was the con- sequence of the requisition made by Dr. Douglas? Johnson, whose ruling passion may be said to be the love of truth, convinced Lauder, that it would be more to his interest to make a full confession of his guilt, than to stand forth the convicted champion of a lie; and for this purpose he drew up, in the strong- est terms, a recantation in a Letter to the Rev. Mr. Douglas, which Lauder signed, and published in the year 1751. That piece will remain a lasting memorial of the abhorrence with which Johnson beheld a violation of truth. Mr. Nichols, whose attachment to his illustrious friend was unwearied, shewed him in 1780 a book, called Remarks on Johnson's Life of Milton, in which the affair of Lauder was renewed with virulence, and a poetical scale in the Literary Magazine 1758 (when Johnson had ceased to write in that collec- tion) was urged as an additional proof of de- liberate malice. He read the libellous pas- sage with attention, and instantly wrote on the margin: "In the business of Lauder I C6 was deceived, partly by thinking the man "too frantic to be fraudulent. Of the poetical "scale quoted from the Magazine I am not "the F 2 68 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "the author. I fancy it was put in after "I had quitted that work; for I not only "did not write it, but I do not remember "it." As a critic and a scholar, Johnson was willing to receive what numbers at the time believed to be true information: when he found that the whole was a forgery, he renounced all connection with the author. In March 1752, he felt a severe stroke of affliction in the death of his wife. The last number of the Rambler, as already men- tioned, was on the 14th of that month. The loss of Mrs. Johnson was then approaching, and, probably, was the cause that put an end to those admirable periodical essays. It appears that she died on the 28th of March: in a memorandum, at the foot of the Prayers and Meditations, that is called her Dying Day. She was buried at Bromley, under the care of Dr. Hawkesworth. Johnson placed a Latin inscription on her tomb, in which he celebrated her beauty. With the singu- larity of his prayers for his deceased wife, from that time to the end of his days, the world is sufficiently acquainted. On Easter- day, 22d April, 1764, his memorandum says: 66 Thought GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 69 66 06 Thought on Tetty, poor dear Tetty! with my eyes full. Went to Church. After ser mon I recommended Tetty in a prayer by "herself; and my father, mother, brother, "and Bathurst, in another. I did it only 66 once, so far as it might be lawful for me." In a prayer, January 23, 1759, the day on which his mother was buried, he commends, as far as may be lawful, her soul to God, im- ploring for her whatever is most beneficial to her in her present state. In this habit he persevered to the end of his days. The Rev. Mr. Strahan, the editor of the Prayers and Meditations, observes, "That Johnson, on some occasions, prays that the Almighty $6 66 may have had mercy on his wife and Mr. "Thrale; evidently supposing their sentence “to have been already passed in the Divine “Mind; and, by consequence, proving, that "he had no belief in a state of purgatory, "and no reason for praying for the dead "that could impeach the sincerity of his "profession as a protestant." Mr. Strahan adds, "That, in praying for the regretted "tenants of the grave, Johnson conformed "to a practice which has been retained by 敏 ​many learned members of the Established F 3 "Church, 70 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "Church, though the Liturgy no longer "admits it. If where the tree falleth, there "it shall be; if our state, at the close of life, "is to be the measure of our final sentence, "then prayers for the dead, being visibly "fruitless, can be regarded only as the vain "oblations of superstition. But of all super- "stitions this, perhaps, is one of the least "unamiable, and most incident to a good "mind. If our sensations of kindness be "intense, those, whom we have revered and "loved, death cannot wholly seclude from * our concern. It is true, for the reason just mentioned, such evidences of our sur 66. 66 viving affection may be thought ill-judged; "but surely they are generous, and some "natural tenderness is due even to a super- 66 stition, which thus originates in piety and "benevolence." These sentences, extracted from the Rev. Mr. Strahan's preface, if they are not a full justification, are, at least, a beautiful apology. It will not be improper to add what Johnson himself has said on the subject. Being asked by Mr Boswell*, what he thought of purgatory as believed by the * Life of Johnson, Vol. I. p. 328. 4to Edit. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 71 the Roman Catholicks? His answer was, "It is a very harmless doctrine. They are "of opinion, that the generality of man- "kind are neither so obstinately wicked as "to deserve everlasting punishment; nor so 66 good as to merit being admitted into the society of blessed spirits; and, therefore, "that God is graciously pleased to allow a "middle state, where they may be purified 66 by certain degrees of suffering. You see "there is nothing unreasonable in this; and "if it be once established that there are souls "in purgatory, it is as proper to pray for "them, as for our brethren of mankind who are yet yet in this life." This was Dr. John- son's guess into futurity; and to guess is the utmost that man can do. Shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it. Mrs. Johnson left a daughter, Lucy Porter, by her first husband. She had contracted a friendship with Mrs. Anne Williams, the daughter of Zachary Williams, a physician of eminence in South Wales, who had devoted more than thirty years of a long life to the study of the longitude, and was thought to have made great advances F 4 towards 72 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND towards that important discovery. His let- ters to Lord Halifax, and the Lords of the Admiralty, partly corrected and partly writ- ten by Dr. Johnson, are still extant in the hands of Mr. Nichols *. We there find Dr. Williams, in the eighty-third year of his age, stating, that he had prepared an instrument, which might be called an epitome or mi- niature of the terraqueous globe, shewing, with the assistance of tables constructed by himself, the variations of the magnetic nee- dle, and ascertaining the longitude for the safety of navigation. It appears that this scheme had been referred to Sir Isaac Newton; but that great philosopher excusing himself on account of his advanced age, all applications were useless till 1751, when the subject was referred, by order of Lord Anson, to Dr. Bradley, the celebrated professor of astronomy. His report was unfavourable, though it allows that a considerable progress had been made. Dr. Williams, after all his Jabour and expence, died in a short time after, a melancholy instance of unrewarded merit. His • See Gentleman's Magazine for Nov. and Dec. 1787, + Ibid, for Dec. 1787, p. 1042. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 73 His daughter possessed uncommon talents, and, though blind, had an alacrity of mind that made her conversation agreeable, and even desirable. To relieve and appease me- lancholy reflections, Johnson took her home to his house in Gough-square. In 1755, Garrick gave her a benefit-play, which pro- duced two hundred pounds. In 1766, she published, by subscription, a quarto volume of Miscellanies, and increased her little stock to three hundred pounds. That fund, with Johnson's protection, supported her through the remainder of her life. During the two years in which the Rambler was carried on, the Dictionary proceeded by slow degrees. In May 1752, having com- posed a prayer preparatory to his return from tears and sorrow to the duties of life, he resumed his grand design, and went on with vigour, giving, however, occasional assistance to his friend Dr. Hawkesworth in the Adven- turer, which began soon after the Rambler was laid aside. Some of the most valuable essays in that collection were from the pen of Johnson. The Dictionary was completed towards the end of 1754; and, Cave being then 1 4 74 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND then no more, it was a mortification to the author of that noble addition to our language, that his old friend did not live to see the triumph of his 'abours. In May 1755, that great work was published. Johnson was desirous that it should come from one who had obtained academical honours; and for that purpose his friend the Rev. Thomas Warton obtained for him, in the preceding month of February, a diploma for a master's degree from the University of Oxford. Garrick, on the publication of the Dictionary, wrote the following lines: *Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance, "That one English soldier can beat ten of France. *Would we alter the boast from the sword to the 66 pen, "Our odds are still greater, still greater our men. In the deep mines of science though Frenchmen 6.6 may toil, "Can their strength be compar'd to Locke, Newton, or Boyle? Let them rally their heroes, send forth all their "pow'rs, * Their versemen and prosemen, then match them "with ours. "First GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 75 "First Shakspeare and Milton, like gods in the fight, "Have put their whole drama and epic to flight. "In satires, epistles, and odes would they cope? "Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope. "And Johnson well arm'd, like a hero of yore, "Has beat forty French, and will beat Forty 66 more." It is, perhaps, needless to mention, that Forty was the number of the French Academy, at the time when their Dictionary was published to settle their language. ་ In the course of the winter preceding this grand publication, the late Earl of Chester- field gave two essays in the periodical Paper, called THE WORLD, dated November 28, and December 5, 1754, to prepare the public for so important a work. The original plan, addressed to his Lordship in the year 1747, is there mentioned in terms of the highest praise; and this was understood, at the time, to be a courtly way of soliciting a dedication of the Dictionary to himself. Johnson treated this civility with disdain. He said to Garrick and others, “I have sailed a long and pain- 66 ful 76 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "ful voyage round the world of the English 66 language; and does he now send out two "cockboats to tow me into harbour ?" He had said, in the last number of the Ram- bler, that, having laboured to maintain "the dignity of virtue, I will not now de- SC 66 grade it by the meanness of dedication." Such a man, when he had finished his Dic- tionary, "not," as he says himself, “in the "soft obscurities of retirement, or under the "shelter of academick bowers, but amidst in- "convenience and distraction, in sickness and "in sorrow, and without the patronage of "the Great," was not likely to be caught by the lure thrown out by lord Chesterfield. He had in vain sought the patronage of that nobleman; and his pride, exasperated by disappointment, drew from him the following letter, dated in the month of February, 1755. "To the Right Honourable the Earl of "CHESTERFIELD. "MY LORD, "I have been lately informed, by the pro- prietors of the World, that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended “to the publick, were written by your Lord- " "ship. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 77 "ship. To be so distinguished is an honour "which, being very little accustomed to "favours from the Great, I know not well "how to receive, or in what terms to ac- knowledge. 66 66 "When upon some slight encouragement, "I first visited your Lordship, I was over- powered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and could "not forbear to wish, that I might beast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de leterre; "that I might obtain that regard for which "I saw the world contending. But I found c CC my attendance so little encouraged, that "neither pride nor modesty would suffer me 66 to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in publick, I had exhausted 66 66 all the art of pleasing, which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done "all that I could; and no man is well pleased "to have his all neglected, be it ever so "little. "Seven years, my Lord, have now passed "since I waited in your outward room, or was "repulsed from your door; during which 66 time 78 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "time I have been pushing on my work #6 er 66 through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of as- "sistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not 66 expect, for I never had a patron before. "The Shepherd in Virgil grew acquainted "with Love, and found him a native of the "rocks. "Is not a patron, my Lord, one who looks "with unconcern on a man struggling for "life in the water, and, when he has reached 66 66 ground, encumbers him with help? The "notice which you have been pleased to take "of my labours, had it been early, had been "kind; but it has been delayed till I am “indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess ob- ligations where no benefit has been re- ❝ceived; or to be unwilling that the publick "should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me "to do for myself. 86 66 "Having GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 79 Having carried on my work thus far "with so little obligation to any favourer "of learning, I shall not be disappointed, though I should conclude it, if less be 66 66 possible, with less; for I have been long "wakened' from that dream of hope, in "which I once boasted myself with so much "exultation, "MY LORD, "Your Lordship's most humble " and most obedient servant, "SAMUEL JOHNSON." It is said, upon good authority, that John- son once received from Lord Chesterfield the sum of ten pounds. It were to be wished that the secret had never transpired. It was mean to receive it, and meaner to give it. It may be imagined, that for Johnson's fero- city, as it has been called, there was some foundation in his finances; and, as his Dic- tionary was brought to a conclusion, that money was now to flow in upon him. The reverse was the case. For his subsistence, during the progress of the work, he had re- - ceived at different times the amount of his contract; and when his receipts were pro- duced So AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND ! 66 duced to him at a tavern-dinner, given by the booksellers, it appeared, that he had been paid a hundred pounds and upwards more than his due. The author of a book, called Lexiphanes *, written by a Mr. Camp- Irell, a Scotchman, and purser of a man of war, endeavoured to blast his laurels, but in vain. The world applauded, and Johnson never replied. Abuse," he said, "is of- "ten of service: there is nothing so dange- ❝rous to an author as silence; his name, "like a shuttlecock, must be beat backward "and forward, or it falls to the ground." Lexiphanes professed to be an imitation of the pleasant manner of Lucian; but humour was not the talent of the writer of Lexiphanes. As Dryden says, "He had too much horse- play in his raillery." It was in the summer 1754, that the pre- sent writer became acquainted with Dr. Johnson. The cause of his first visit is re- lated by Mrs. Piozzi nearly in the following manner. "Mr. Murphy being engaged in a perio- 1 66 *This work was not published until the year 1767, when Dr. Johnson's Dictionary was fully established in reputation. Ca { GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 81 a periodical paper, the Gray's-Inn Jour- "nal, was at a friend's house in the country, "and not being disposed to lose pleasure for CC 66 66 66 business, wished to content his bookseller by some unstudied essay. He therefore "took up a French Journal Litéraire, and translating something he liked, sent it away to town. Time, however, discovered that "he translated from the French a Rambler, "which had been taken from the English "without acknowledgement. Upon this dis- 66 66 covery Mr. Murphy thought it right to "make his excuses to Dr. Johnson. He went "next day, and found him covered with soot, "like a chimney-sweeper, in a little room, as "if he had been acting Lungs in the Al- chemist, making ather. This being told. by Mr. Murphy in company, Come, come, " said Dr. Johnson, the story is black enough; "but it was a happy day that brought you "first to my house." After this first visit, the author of this narrative by degrees grew intimate with Dr. Johnson. The first striking sentence, that he heard from him, was in a few days after the publication of Lord Boling- broke's posthumous works. Mr. Garrick asked him, "If he had seen them?" "Yes, VOL. I. G "I have 1 82 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 66 66 "I have seen them." "What do you think " of them?" "Think of them!" He made a long pause, and then replied: "Think "of them! A scoundrel, and a coward! A scoundrel, who spent his life in charging a gun against Christianity; and a coward, “who was afraid of hearing the report of his “ own gun; gun; but left half a crown to a hungry "Scotchman to draw the trigger after his "death." His mind, at this time strained and over-laboured by constant exertion, called for an interval of repose and indolence. But in- dolence was the time of danger: it was then that his spirits, not employed abroad, turned with inward hostility against himself. His reflections on his own life and conduct were always severe; and, wishing to be immaculate, he destroyed his own peace by unnecessary scruples. He tells us, that when he surveyed his past life, he discovered nothing but a barren waste of time, with some disorders of body, and disturbances of mind, very near to madness. His life, he says, from his earliest years, was wasted in a morning bed; and his reigning sin was a general slug- gishness, to which he was always inclined, and, in part of his life, almost compelled, by morbid GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 83 4 morbid melancholy, and weariness of mind. This was his constitutional malady, derived, perhaps, from his father, who was, at times, overcast with a gloom that bordered on in- sanity. When to this it is added, that Johnson, about the age of twenty, drew up a description of his infirmities, for Dr. Swinfen, at that time an eminent physician in Staf- fordshire; and received an answer to his let- ter, importing, that the symptoms indicated a future privation of reason; who can wonder that he was troubled with melancholy and dejection of spirit? An apprehension of the worst calamity that can befal human nature hung over him all the rest of his life, like the sword of the tyrant suspended over his guest. In his sixtieth. year he had a mind to write the history of his melancholy; but he desisted, not knowing whether it would not too much disturb him. In a Latin poem, however, to which he has prefixed as a title. ΓΝΩΘΙ ΣΕΑΥΤΟΝ, he has left a picture of himself, drawn with as much truth, and as firm a hand, as can be seen in the portraits of Hogarth or Sir Joshua Reynolds. The learned reader will find the original poem in this volume, p. 370; and it is hoped, that a translation, G 2 84 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND translation, or rather imitation, of so curious a piece will not be improper in this place. KNOW YOURSELF. (AFTER REVISING AND ENLARGING THE ENGLISH LEXICON, OR DICTIONARY.) When Scaliger, whole years of labour past, Beheld his Lexicon complete at last, And weary of his task, with wond'ring eyes, Saw from words pil'd on words a fabric rise, He curs'd the industry, inertly strong, In creeping toil that could persist so long, And if, enrag'd he cried, Heav'n meant to shed Its keenest vengeance on the guilty head, The drudgery of words the damn'd would know, Doom'd to write Lexicons in endless woe*. Yes, you had cause, great Genius, to repent; "You lost good days, that might be better spent;" You well might grudge the hours of ling'ring pain, And view your learned labours with disdain. To you were given the large expanded mind, The flame of genius, and the taste refin'd. "Twas See Scaliger's Epigram on this subject, communi- cated without doubt by Dr. Johnson, Gent. Mag. 1748. P. 8. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 85 'Twas yours on eagle wings aloft to soar, And amidst rolling worlds the Great First Cause explore; To fix the æras of recorded time, And live in ev'ry age and ev'ry clime; Record the Chiefs, who propt their Country's cause; Who founded Empires, and establish'd Laws; To learn whate'er the Sage with virtue fraught, Whate'er the Muse of moral wisdom taught. These were your quarry; these to you were known, And the world's ample volume was your own. Yet warn'd by me, ye pigmy Wits, beware, Nor with immortal Scaliger compare. For me, though his example strike my view, Oh! not for me his footsteps to pursue. Whether first Nature, unpropitious, cold, This clay compounded in a ruder mould; Or the slow current, loit'ring at my heart, No gleam of wit or fancy can impart; Whate'er the cause, from me no numbers flow, No visions warm me, and no raptures glow. A mind like Scaliger's, superior still, No grief could conquer, no misfortune chill. Though for the maze of words his native skies. He seem'd to quit, 'twas but again to rise; To mount once more to the bright source of day, And view the wonders of th' æthereal way. G 3 The 86 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND The love of Fame his gen'rous bosom fir'd; Each Science hail'd him, and each Muse inspir'd. For him the Sons of Learning trimm'd the bays, And Nations grew harmonious in his praise. : My task perform'd, and all my labours o'er, For me what lot has Fortune now in store? The listless will succeeds, that worst disease, The rack of indolence, the sluggish ease. Care grows on care, and o'er my aching brain Black Melancholy pours her morbid train. No kind relief, no lenitive at hand, I seek at midnight clubs the social Band ; But midnight clubs, where wit with noise conspires, Where Comus revels, and where wine inspires, Delight no more: I seek my lonely bed, And call on Sleep to sooth my languid head. But Sleep from these sad lids flies far away; I mourn all night, and dread the coming day. Exhausted, tir'd, I throw my eyes around, To find some vacant spot on classic ground; And soon, vain hope! I form a grand design; Languor succeeds, and all my powers decline, If Science open not her richest vein, Without materials all our toil is vain. A form to rugged stone when Phidias gives, Beneath his touch a new creation lives. Remove GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 87 Remove his marble, and his genius dies; With Nature then no breathing statue vies. Whate'er I plan, I feel my pow'rs confin'd By Fortune's frown and penury of mind. I boast no knowledge glean'd 'with toil and strife, That bright reward of a well-acted life. I view myself, while Reason's feeble light Shoots a pale glimmer through the gloom of night, While passions, error, phantoms of the brain, And vain opinions, fill the dark domain; A dreary void, where fears with grief combin'd Waste all within, and desolate the mind. What then remains? Must I in slow decline To mute inglorious ease old age resign? Or, bold Ambition kindling in my breast, Attempt some arduous task? Or, were it best Brooding o'er Lexicons to pass the day, And in that labour drudge my life away? ! Such is the picture for which Dr. Johnson sat to himself. He gives the prominent features of his character; his lassitude, his morbid melancholy, his love of fame, his dejection, his tavern-parties, and his wan- dering G 4 88 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND dering reveries, Vacua mala somnia mentis, about which so much has been written; all are painted in miniature, but in vivid colours, by his own hand. His idea of writing more Dictionaries was not merely said in verse. Mr. Hamilton, who was at that time an eminent printer, and well acquainted with Dr. Johnson, remembers that he engaged in a Commercial Dictionary, and, as appears by the receipts in his possession, was paid his price for several sheets; but he soon relin- quished the undertaking. It is probable, that he found himself not sufficiently versed in that branch of knowledge. He was again reduced to the expedient of short compositions for the supply of the day. The writer of this narrative has now before him a letter in Dr. Johnson's hand-writing, which shews the distress and melancholy situ- ation of the man, who had written the Ram- bler, and finished the great work of his Dic-. tionary. The letter is directed to Mr. Richardson (the author of Clarissa), and is as follows: "SIR, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 89 “SIR, "I am obliged to entreat your assistance. "I am now under an arrest for five pounds 66 eighteen shillings. Mr. Strahan, from whom “I should have received the necessary help "in this case, is not at home; and I am "afraid of not finding Mr. Millar. If you "will be so good as to send me this sum I "will very gratefully repay you, and add it "to all former obligations. I am, Sir, "Your most obedient, " and most humble servant, "Gough-square, 16 March." "SAMUEL JOHNSON. In the margin of this letter there is a memo- randum in these words: " March 16, 1756, Sent six guineas. Witness, Wm. Richard- "son." For the honour of an admired writer it is to be regretted, that we do not find a more liberal entry. To his friend in distress he sent eight shillings more than was wanted. Had an incident of this kind occurred in one of his Romances, Richardson would have known how to grace his hero; but in fictitious scenes generosity costs the writer nothing. About } go AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND About this time Johnson contributed seve- ral papers to a periodical Miscellany, called The VISITOR, from motives which are highly honourable to him, a compassionate regard for the late Mr. Christopher Smart. The criticism on Pope's Epitaphs appeared in that work. In a short time after, he became a reviewer in the Literary Magazine, under the auspices of the late Mr. Newbery, a man of a projecting head, good taste, and great industry. This employment engrossed but little of Johnson's time. He resigned him- self to indolence, took no exercise, rose about two, and then received the visits of his friends. Authors, long since forgotten, waited on him as their oracle, and he gave responses in the chair of criticism. He listened to the complaints, the schemes, and the hopes and fears, of a crowd of inferior writers, "who," he said, in the words of Roger Ascham, "lived, men knew not how, and died obscure, "men marked not when." He believed, that he could give a better history of Grub-street than any man living. His house was filled with a succession of visitors till four or five in the evening. During the whole time he pre- sided GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. gr . sided at his tea-table. Tea was his favourite ་ beverage; and, when the late Jonas Hanway pronounced his anathema against the use of tea, Johnson rose in defence of his habitual practice, declaring himself " in that article a hardened sinner, who had for years diluted "his meals with the infusion of that fascinat- 66 66 ing plant; whose tea-kettle had no time to "cool; who with tea solaced the midnight “hour, and with tea welcomed the morning." The proposal for a new edition of Shak- speare, which had formerly miscarried, was resumed in the year 1756. The booksellers readily agreed to his terms; and subscription- tickets were issued out. For undertaking this work, money, he confessed, was the in- citing motive. His friends exerted them- selves to promote his interest; and, in `the mean time, he engaged in a new periodical production called THE IDLER. The first number appeared on Saturday, April 15, 1758; and the last, April 5, 1760. The profits of this work, and the subscriptions for the new edition of Shakspeare, were the means by which he supported himself för four or five years. In 1759 was published R $ Rasselas, 92 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 1 Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia. His transla- tion of Lobo's Voyage to Abyssinia seems to have pointed out that country for the scene of action; and Rassila Christos, the General of Sultan Segued, mentioned in that work, most probably suggested the name of the prince. The author wanted to set out on a journey to Lichfield, in order to pay the last offices of filial piety to his mother, who, at the age of ninety, was then near her dissolu- tion; but money was necessary. Mr. John- ston, a bookseller, who has long since left off business, gave one hundred pounds for the copy. With this supply Johnson set out-for Lichfield; but did not arrive in time to close the eyes of a parent whom he loved. He attended the funeral, which, as appears among his memorandums, was on the 23d of Ja- nuary, 1759. Johnson now found it necessary to re- french his expences. He gave up his house in Gough-square. Mrs. Williams went into lodgings. He retired to Gray's Inn, and soon removed to chambers in the Inner Temple-lane, where he lived in poverty, total idleness, and the pride of literature. Magni ✔ GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 93 Magni stat nominis umbrâ. Mr. Fitzherbert (the father of Lord St. Helen's, the present minister at Madrid) a man distinguished through life for his benevolence and other amiable qualities, used to say, that he paid a morning visit to Johnson, intending from his chambers to send a letter into the city; but, to his great surprize, he found an au- thor by profession without pen, ink, or paper. The present Bishop of Salisbury was also among those who endeavoured, by constant attention, to sooth the cares of a mind which he knew to be afflicted with gloomy appre- hensions. At one of the parties made at his house, Boscovich, the Jesuit, who had then lately introduced the Newtonian philoso- phy at Rome, and, after publishing an ele- gant Latin poem on the subject, was made a Fellow of the Royal Society, was one of the company invited to meet Dr. Johnson. The conversation at first was mostly in French. Johnson, though thoroughly versed in that language, and a professed admirer of Boileau and La Bruyere, did not understand its pro- nunciation, nor could he speak it himself with propriety. For the rest of the evening the talk was in Latin. Boscovich had a ready 1 current 94 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND current flow of that flimsy phraseology with which a priest may travel through Italy, Spain, and Germany. Johnson scorned what he called colloquial barbarisms. It was his pride to speak his best. He went on, after a little practice, with as it was his native tongue. writer well remembers. Observing that Fon- tinelle at first opposed the Newtonian philo- sophy, and embraced it afterwards, his words were: Fontinellus, ni fallor, in extremâ senec- tute, fuit transfuga ad castra Newtoniana. • + much facility as if One sentence this We have now travelled through that part of Dr. Johnson's life which was a perpetual struggle with difficulties. Halcyon days are now to open upon him. In the month of May 1762, his Majesty, to reward literary merit, signified his pleasure to grant to John- son a pension of three hundred pounds a year. The Earl of Bute was minister. Lord Loughborough, who, perhaps, was origi- nally a mover in the business, had authority to mention it. He was well acquainted with Johnson; but, having heard much of his independent spirit, and of the downfall of Osborne the bookseller, he did not know but his GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 95 1 his benevolence might be rewarded with a folio on his head. He desired the author of these Memoirs to undertake the task. This writer thought the opportunity of doing so much good, the most happy incident in his life. He went, without delay, to the cham- bers in the Inner Temple-lane, which, in fact, were the abode of wretchedness. By slow and studied approaches the message was disclosed. Johnson made a long pause: he asked if it was seriously intended? He fell into a profound meditation, and his own de- finition of a pensioner occurred to him. He was told, "That he, at least, did not come "within the definition." He desired to meet next day, and dine at the Mitre Tavern. At that meeting he gave up all his scruples. On the following day Lord Loughborough con- ducted him to the Earl of Bute. The con- versation that passed was in the evening re- lated to this writer by Dr. Johnson. He ex- pressed his sense of his Majesty's bounty, and thought himself the more highly honoured, as the favour was not bestowed on him for having dipped his pen in faction. "No, "Sir," said Lord Bute," it is not offered "to you for having dipped your pen in faction, 66 96 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 1 "faction, nor with a design that you ever "should." Sir John Hawkins will have it, that, after this interview, Johnson was often pressed to wait on Lord Bute, but with a sul- len spirit refused to comply. However that be, Johnson was never heard to utter a dis- respectful word of that nobleman. The writer of this essay remembers a circum- stance which may throw some light on this subject. The late Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, whom Johnson loved and respected, con- tended for the pre-eminence of the Scotch writers; and Ferguson's book on Civil So- ciety, then on the eve of publication, he said, would give the laurel to North Britain. "Alas! what can he do upon that subject ?” Aristotle, Polybius, Gro- said Johnson: 66 66 86 tius, Puffendorf, and Burlemaqui, have reaped in that field before him." "He "will treat it," said Dr. Rose, "in a new "manner." "A new manner! Buckinger had 66 no hands, and he wrote his name with "his toes at Charing-cross, for half a crown a-piece; that was a new manner of writ- ing!" Dr. Rose replied, "If that will not satisfy you, I will name a writer, "whom you must allow to be the best in 66 66 "the GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 97 "the kingdom." "Who is that?” "The "Earl of Bute, when he wrote an order for << ct your pension." "There, Sir," said Johnson, you have me in the toil: to Lord Bute I "must allow whatever praise you claim for "him." Ingratitude was no part of Johnson's character. Being now in the possession of a regular income, Johnson left his chambers in the Temple, and once more became master of a house in Johnson's-court, Fleet-street. Dr. Levet, his friend and physician in ordinary paid his daily visits with assiduity; made tea all the morning, talked what he had to say, and did not expect an answer. Mrs. Wil- liams had her apartment in the house, and entertained her benefactor with more en- larged conversation. Chemistry was part of Johnson's amusement. For this love of experimental philosophy, Sir John Hawkins thinks an apology necessary. He tells us, with great gravity, that curiosity was the only object in view; not an intention to grow suddenly rich by the philosopher's stone, or the transmutation of metals. To. * See Johnson's epitaph on him, in this volume, p. 342. VOL. I. H enlarge 98 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND enlarge his circle, Johnson once more had recourse to a literary club. This was at the Turk's Head, in Gerard-street, Soho, on every Tuesday evening through the year. The members were, besides himself, the right honourable Edmund Burke, Sir Joshua Rey- nolds, Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, the late Mr. Topham Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Mr. Chamier, Sir John Hawkins, and some others. Johnson's affection for Sir Joshua was founded on a long acquaintance, and a thorough knowledge of the virtuous and amiable quali- ties of that excellent artist. He delighted in the conversation of Mr. Burke. He met him for the first time at Mr. Garrick's several years ago. On the next day he said, "I suppose, Murphy, you are proud of your countryman. CUM TALIS SIT UTINAM 66 66 NOSTER ESSET!" From that time his con- stant observation was, "That a man of sense "could not meet Mr. Burke by accident, “under a gateway to avoid a shower, with- "out being convinced that he was the first 66 man in England." Johnson felt not only kindness, but zeal and ardour for his friends. He did every thing in his power to advance the reputation of Dr. Goldsmith. He loved him, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 99 ! him, though he knew his failings, and particu- larly the leaven of envy, which corroded the mind of that elegant writer, and made him im- patient, without disguise, of the praises bestow- ed on any person whatever. Of this infirmity, which marked Goldsmith's character, John- son gave a remarkable instance. It happened that he went with Sir Joshua Reynolds and Goldsmith to see the Fantoccini, which were exhibited some years ago in or near the Hay- market. They admired the curious mecha- nism by which the puppets were made to walk the stage, draw a chair to the table, sit down, write a letter, and perform a variety of other actions, with such dexterity, that, though Nature's journeymen made the men, they imitated humanity to the astonishment of the spectator. The entertainment being over, the three friends retired to a tavern. Johnson and Sir Joshua talked with pleasure of what they had seen; and says Johnson, in a tone of admiration, "How the little “fellow brandished his spontoon!" "There "is nothing in it," replied Goldsmith, start- ing up with impatience; "give me a spon- "toon; I can do it as well myself." H 2 Enjoying 100 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 1 Enjoying his amusements at his weekly club, and happy in a state of independence, Johnson gained in the year 1765 another re- source, which contributed more than any thing else to exempt him from the solicitudes of life. He was introduced to the late Mr. Thrale and his family. Mrs. Piozzi has re- lated the fact, and it is therefore needless to repeat it in this place. The author of this narrative looks back to the share he had in that business with self-congratulation, since he knows the tenderness which from that time soothed Johnson's cares at Streatham, and prolonged a valuable life. The sub- scribers to Shakspeare began to despair of ever seeing the promised edition. To acquit himself of this obligation, he went to work unwillingly, but proceeded with vigour.- In the month of October 1765, Shakspeare was published; and, in a short time after, the University of Dublin sent over a diploma, in honourable terms, creating him a Doctor of Laws. Oxford in eight or ten years af- terwards followed the example; and till then Johnson never assumed the title of Doctor. In 1766 his constitution seemed to be ** 3 I GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 101 • be in a rapid decline; and that morbid melan- choly, which often clouded his understand- ing, came upon him with a deeper gloom than ever. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale paid him a visit in this situation, and found him on his knees, with Dr. Delap, the rector of Lewes, in Sussex, beseeching God to con- tinue to him the use of his understanding, Mr. Thrale took him to his house at Strea- tham; and Johnson from that time became a constant resident in the family. He went occasionally to the club in Gerard-street; but his head quarters were fixed at Strea- tham. An apartment was fitted up for him, and the library was greatly enlarged. Parties were constantly invited from town; and Johnson was every day at an elegant table, with select and polished company. Whatever could be devised by Mr. and Mrs. Thrale to promote the happiness, and esta- blish the health of their guest, was studiously performed from that time to the end of Mr. Thrale's life, Johnson accompanied the fa- mily in all their summer excursions to Bright- helmstone, to Wales, and to Paris. It is but justice to Mr. Thrale to say, that a more ingenuous frame of mind no man possessed. H 3 His KA 102 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND His education at Oxford gave him the habits of a gentleman; his amiable temper recom- mended his conversation; and the goodness of his heart made him a sincere friend. That he was the patron of Johnson is an honour to his memory. In petty disputes with contemporary writ- ers, or the wits of the age, Johnson was sel- dom entangled. A single incident of that kind may not be unworthy of notice, since it happened with a man of great celebrity in his time. A number of friends dined with Garrick on a Christmas-day. Foote was then in Ireland. It was said at table, that the modern Aristophanes (so Foote was called) had been horse-whipped by a Dublin apo- thecary, for mimicking him on the stage. "I wonder," said Garrick, "that any man "should shew so much resentment to Foote; "he has a patent for such liberties; nobody ever thought it worth his while to quarrel "with him in London.' "I am glad," said Johnson, "to find that the man is rising in "the world." The expression was afterwards reported to Foote; who, in return, gave out, that he would produce the Caliban of literature 66 " • GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 103 1 I literature on the stage. Being informed of this design, Johnson sent word to Foote, “That the theatre being intended for the "reformation of vice, he would step from "the boxes on the stage, and correct him "before the audience." Foote knew the intrepidity of his antagonist, and abandoned the design. No ill-will ensued. Johnson used That, for broad-faced mirth, Foote "had not his equal.” to say, 66 Dr. Johnson's fame excited the curiosity of the King. His Majesty expressed a desire to see a man, of whom extraordinary things were said. Accordingly, the librarian at Buckingham-house invited Johnson to see that elegant collection of books, at the same time giving a hint of what was intended. His Majesty entered the room; and, among other things, asked the author, "If he meant 66 to give the world any more of his com- "positions?" Johnson answered, "That he "thought he had written enough." " And I "should think so too," replied his Majesty, "if you had not written so well." II 4 Though 104 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Though Johnson thought he had written enough, his genius, even in spite of bodily sluggishness, could not lie still. In 1770 we find him entering the lists as a political writer. The flame of discord that blazed throughout the nation on the expulsion of Mr. Wilkes, and the final determination of the House of Commons, that Mr. Luttrell was duly elected by 206 votes against 1143, spread a general spirit of discontent. To allay the tumult, Dr. Johnson published The Fulse Alarm. Mrs. Piozzi informs us, "That "this pamphlet was written at her house, "between eight o'clock on Wednesday night "and twelve on Thursday night." This celerity has appeared wonderful to many, and some have doubted the truth. It may, however, be placed within the bounds of probability. Johnson has observed that there are different methods of composition. Virgil was used to pour out a great number of verses in the morning, and pass the day in retrenching the exuberances, and correcting inaccuracies; and it was Pope's custom to write his first thoughts in his first words, and gradually to amplify, decorate, rectify, and refine 2,2 GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 195 1 refine them. Others employ at once me- mory and invention, and, with little inter- mediate use of the pen, form and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write their productions only, when, in their opinion, they have completed them. This last was Johnson's method. He never took his pen in hand till he had well weighed his subject, and grasped in his mind the senti- ments, the train of argument, and the ar- rangement of the whole. As he often thought aloud, he had, perhaps, talked it over to himself. This may account for that rapidity with which, in general, he dispatched his sheets to the press, without being at the trouble of a fair copy. Whatever may be the logic or eloquence of the False Alarm, the House of Commons have since erased the resolution from the Journals. But whether they have not left materials for a future con- troversy may be made a question. In 1771 he published another tract, on the subject of FALKLAND ISLANDS. The design was to shew the impropriety of going to war with Spain for an island thrown aside from human use, stormy in winter, and barren in 106 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND in summer. For this work it is apparent that materials were furnished by direction of the minister. At the approach of the general election in 1774, he wrote a short discourse, called THE PATRIOT, not with any visible applica- tion to Mr. Wilkes; but to teach the peo- ple to reject the leaders of opposition, who called themselves patriots. In 1775 he un- dertook a pamphlet of more importance, namely, Taxation no Tyranny, in answer to the Resolutions and Address of the Ameri- can Congress. The scope of the argument was, that distant colonies, which had in their assemblies a legislature of their own, were, notwithstanding, liable to be taxed in a British Parliament, where they had neither peers in one house, nor representatives in the other. He was of opinion, that this country was strong enough to enforce obedience. "When an Englishman," he says, "is told "that the Americans shoot up like the hy- "dra, he naturally considers how the hydra "was destroyed." The event has shown how much he and the minister of that day were mistaken. The GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 107 The Account of the Tour to the Western Islands of Scotland, which was undertaken in the autumn of 1773, in company with Mr. Boswell, was not published till some time in the year 1775. This book has been variously received; by some extolled for the elegance of the narrative, and the depth of observation on life and manners; by others, as much condemned, as a work of avowed hostility to the Scotch nation. The praise was, beyond all question, fairly deserved; and the censure, on due examination, will appear hasty and ill-founded. That John- son entertained some prejudices against the Scotch, must not be dissembled. It is true, as Mr. Boswell says, "that he thought their "success in England exceeded their proportion 66 of real merit, and he could not but see in “them that nationality which no liberal-minded "Scotsman will deny." The author of these memoirs well remembers, that Johnson one day asked him, "Have you observed the dif "ference between your own country im- C6 pudence and Scottish impudence?" The answer being in the negative: "Then I will "tell you,” said Johnson. "The impu- "dence : • 108 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND A 66 it * and teazes you. "dence of an Irishman is the impudence of "a fly, that buzzes about you, and you put away, but it returns again, and flutters The impudence of a "Scotsman is the impudence of a leech, that "fixes and sucks your blood." Upon an- other occasion, this writer went with him into the shop of Davis the bookseller, in Russell-street, Covent-garden. Davis came running to him almost out of breath with joy: "The Scots gentleman is come, Sir; his 66 principal wish is to see you; he is now in "the back-parlour." "Well, well, I'll see "the gentleman," said Johnson. He walked towards the room. Mr. Boswell was the person. This writer followed with no small curiosity. "I find," said Mr. Boswell, "that "I am come to London at a bad time, when "great popular prejudice has gone forth 66 66 against us North Britons; but when I am talking to you, I am talking to a large and "liberal mind, and you know that I cannot help coming from Scotland." “Sir,” said Johnson, no more can the rest of your countrymen *" 66 " 66 1 He Mr. Boswell's account of this introduction is very different from the above. See his life of Johnson, Vol. i. p. 360, 8vo. edit. 1804. f GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. fog He had other reasons that helped to alienate him from the natives of Scotland. Being a cordial well-wisher to the constitution in Church and State, he did not think that Calvin and John Knox were proper founders of a national religion. He made, however, a wide distinction between the Dissenters of Scotland and the Separatists of England. To the former he imputed no disaffection, no want of loyalty. Their soldiers and their officers had shed their blood with zeal and courage in the service of Great Britain; and the people, he used to say, were content with their own established modes of wor- ship, without wishing, in the present age, to give any disturbance to the Church of England. This he was at all times ready to admit; and therefore declared, that when- ever he found a Scotchman to whom an Eng- lishman was as a Scotchman, that Scotch- man should be as an Englishman to him. In this, surely there was no rancour, no malevolence. The Dissenters on this side the Tweed appeared to him in a different light. Their religion, he frequently said, was too worldly, too political, too restless and am- bitious. ་ - 110 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND مز > bitious. The doctrine of cashiering kings, and erecting on the ruins of the constitution a new form of government, which lately issued from their pulpits, he always thought was, under a calm disguise, the principle that lay lurking in their hearts. He knew that a wild democracy had overturned Kings, Lords, and Commons; and that a set of Republican Fanatics, who would not bow at the name of JESUS, had taken possession of all the livings and all the parishes in the kingdom. That those scenes of horror might never be renewed, was the ardent wish of Dr. Johnson; and though he apprehended no danger from Scotland, it is probable that his dislike of Calvinism mingled sometimes with his reflections on the natives of that country. The association of ideas could not be easily broken; but it is well known that he loved and respected many gentlemen from that part of the island. Dr. Robertson's History of Scotland, and Dr. Beattie's Es- says, were subjects of his constant praise. Mr. Boswell, Dr. Rose of Chiswick, Andrew Millar, Mr. Hamilton the printer, and the late Mr. Strahan, were among his most inti- mate friends. Many others might be added to } 1 GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 111 to the list. He scorned to enter Scotland as a spy; though Hawkins, his biographer, and the professing defender of his fame, allowed himself leave to represent him in that ignoble character. He went into Scotland to survey men and manners. Antiquities, fossils, and minerals, were not within his province. He did not visit that country to settle the station of Roman camps, or the spot where Galgacus fought the last battle for publick liberty. The people, their cus- toms, and the progress of literature, were his objects. The civilities which he received in the course of his tour have been repaid with grateful acknowledgement, and, generally, with great elegance of expression. His crime is, that he found the country bare of trees, and he has stated the fact. This, Mr. Boswell, in his Tour to the Hebrides, has told us, was resented by his countrymen with anger inflamed to rancour; but he admits that there are few trees on the east side of Scotland. Mr. Pennant, in his Tour, says, that in some parts of the eastern side of the country, he saw several large planta- tions of pine planted by gentlemen near their seats; and in this respect such a laudable spirit - 1 112 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND spirit prevails, that, in another half century, it never shall be said, " To spy the nakedness "of the land are you come." Johnson could not wait for that half century, and therefore mentioned things as he found them. If in any thing he has been mistaken, he has made a fair apology in the last paragraph of his book, avowing with candour, "That he 66 may have been surprised by modes of life, " and appearances of nature, that are fami- "liar to men of wider survey, and more va- "ried conversation. Novelty and ignorance "must always be reciprocal; and he is con- "scious that his thoughts on national man- 66 ners are the thoughts of one who has seen "but little." وو The Poems of Ossian made a part of John- son's enquiry during his residence in Scot- land, and the Hebrides. On his return to England, November 1773, a storm seemed to be gathering over his head; but the cloud never burst, and the thunder never fell.- Ossian, it is well known, was presented to the publick as a translation from the Earse; but that this was a fraud, Johnson declared without hesitation. "The Earse," he says, G6 was GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 113 ડ was always oral only, and never a written language. The Welch and the Irish were "more cultivated. In Earse there was not "in the world a “dred years old. 66 single manuscript a hun- Martin, who in the last century published an Account of the Wes- "tern Islands, mentions Irish, but never "Earse manuscripts, to be found in the "islands in his time. The bards could not "read; if they could, they might probably "have written. But the bard was a barba- "rian among barbarians, and, knowing no- 66 65 thing himself, lived with others that knew 66 no more. If there is a manuscript from "which the translation was made, in what age was it written, and where is it? If it was collected from oral recitation, it could only be in detached parts and scattered fragments the whole is too long to be re- "membered. Who put it together in its "6 66 66 present form ?" For these, and such like reasons, Johnson calls the whole an imposture. He adds, "The editor, or author, never "could show the original, nor can it be "shewn by any other. To revenge reason- "able incredulity, by refusing evidence, is a degree of insolence with which the world VOL. I. I 66 is J 114 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "is not yet acquainted; and stubborn au- 66 dacity is the last refuge of guilt." This reasoning carries with it great weight. It roused the resentment of Mr. Macpherson. He sent a threatening letter to the author; and Johnson answered him in the rough phrase of stern defiance. The two heroes frowned at a distance, but never came to action. 2 In the year 1777, the misfortunes of Dr. Dodd excited his compassion. He wrote a speech for that unhappy man, when called up to receive judgment of death; besides two petitions, one to the King, and an- other to the Queen; and a sermon to be preached by Dodd to the convicts in New- gate. It may appear trifling to add, that about the same time he wrote a prologue to the comedy of a Word to the Wise, written by Hugh Kelly. The play, some years before, had been damned by a party on the first night. It was revived for the benefit of the author's widow. Mrs. Piozzi relates, that when Johnson was rallied for these exertions, so close to one another, his answer was, When they come to me with a dying Parson, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 115 Parson, and a dead Stay-maker what can a man do? We come now to the last of his literary labours. At the request of the Booksellers he undertook the Lives of the Poets. The first publication was in 1779, and the whole was completed in 1781. In a memoran- dum of that year he says, some time in March he finished the Lives of the Poets, which he wrote in his usual way, dilatorily and hastily, unwilling to work, yet working with vigour and haste. In another place, he hopes they are written in such a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety. That the history of so many men, who in their dif- ferent degrees, nade themselves conspicuous in their time, was not written recently after their deaths, seems to be an omission that does no honour to the Republic of Letters. Their contemporaries in general looked on with calm indifference, and suffered Wit and Genius to vanish out of the world in total silence, unregarded, and unlamented. Was there no friend to pay the tribute of a tear? No just observer of life, to record the virtues of the deceased? Was even Envy silent? It seemed to have been agreed, that if an author's I 2 116 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND author's works survived, the history of the man was to give no moral lesson to after-ages. If tradition told us that BEN JONSON went to the Devil Tavern; that SHAKSPEARE. stole deer, and held the stirrup at playhouse doors; that DRYDEN frequented Button's Coffee-house; Curiosity was lulled asleep, and Biography forgot the best part of her function, which is to instruct mankind by examples taken from the school of life. This task re- mained for Dr. Johnson, when years had rolled away; when the channels of information were, for the most part, choked up, and little re- mained besides doubtful anecdote, uncertain tradition, and vague report. "Nunc situs informis premit et deserta Vetustas.” The value of Biography has been better understood in other ages, and in other coun- tries. Tacitus informs us, that to record the lives and characters of illustrious men was the practice of the Roman authors, in the early periods of the Republic. In France the example has been followed. Fontenelle, D'Alembert, and Monsieur Thomas, have left models in this kind of composition. They have embalmed the dead. But it is true, that they GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 117 they had incitements and advantages, even at a distant day, which could not, by any di- ligence, be obtained by Dr. Johnson. The wits of France had ample materials. They lived in a nation of critics, who had at heart the honour done to their country by their Poets, their Heroes, and their Philosophers. They had, besides, an Academy of Belles Lettres, where Genius was cultivated, refined, and encouraged. They had the tracts, the essays, and dissertations, which remain in the Memoires of the Academy, and they had the speeches of the several members, delivered at their first admission to a seat in that learned Assembly. In those speeches the new Academician did ample justice to the memory of his predecessor; and though his harangue was decorated with the colours of eloquence, and was, for that reason, called panegyric, yet being pronounced before qua- lified judges, who knew the talents, the con- duct, and morals of the deceased, the speaker could not, with propriety, wander into the regions of fiction. The truth was known before it was adorned. The Academy saw the marble before the artist polished it. But this country has had no Academy of Litera 13 ture, 118 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND as ture. The public mind, for centuries, has been engrossed by party and faction; by the madness of many for the gain of a few; by civil wars, religious dissentions, trade and commerce, and the arts of accumulating wealth. Amidst such attentions, who can wonder that cold praise has been often the only reward of merit? In this country Doctor Nathaniel Hodges, who like the good bishop of Marseilles, drew purer breath amidst the contagion of the plague in London, and, during the whole time, continued in the city, administering medical assistance, was suffered, Johnson used to relate with tears in his eyes, to die for debt in a gaol. In this country, the man who brought the New River to London was ruined by that noble project; and in this country Otway died for want on Tower Hill; Butler, the great author of Hudibras, whose name can, only die with the English language, was left to languish in poverty, the particulars of his life almost unknown, and scarce a vestige of him left except his im- mortal poem. Had there been an Academy of Literature, the lives, at least, of those celebrated persons would have been written for the benefit of posterity. Swift, it seems, 1 had GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 119 had the idea of such an institution, and pro- posed it to Lord Oxford; but Whig and Tory were more important objects. It is needless to dissemble, that Dr. Johnson, in the Life of Roscommon, talks of the inutility of such a project. "In this country," he says, " an Academy could be expected to do but "little. If an academician's place were pro- 66 " 66 fitable, it would be given by interest; if "attendance were gratuitous, it would be rarely paid, and no man would endure the "least disgust. Unanimity is impossible, and "debate would separate the assembly." To this it may be sufficient to answer, that the Royal Society has not been dissolved by sul- len disgust; and the modern Academy at Somerset-house has already performed much, and promises more. Unanimity is not ne- cessary to such an assembly. On the con- trary, by difference of opinion, and collision of sentiment, the cause of literature would thrive and flourish. The true principles of criticism, the secret of fine writing, the in- vestigation of antiquities, and other interest- ing subjects, might occasion a clash of opi- nions; but in that contention Truth would receive illustration, and the essays of the several I 4 120 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 66 several members would supply the Memoirs of the Academy. But, says Dr. Johnson, suppose the philological decree made and promulgated, what would be its authority? "In absolute government there is sometimes 66 66 a general reverence paid to all that has "the sanction of power, the countenance "of greatness. How little this is the state "of our country needs not to be told. The "edicts of an English academy would pro- 66 66 bably be read by many, only that they may be sure to disobey them. The pre- "sent manners of the nation would deride "authority, and therefore nothing is left "but that every writer should criticise him- "self." This surely is not conclusive. It is by the standard of the best writers that every man settles for himself his plan of le- gitimate composition; and since the autho- rity of superior genius is acknowledged, that authority, which the individual obtains, would not be lessened by an association with others of distinguished ability. It It may, therefore, be inferred, that an Academy of Literature would be an establishment highly useful, and an honour to Literature. In such an institution profitable places would not be wanted, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 121 wanted. Vatis avarus haud facile est animus; and the minister, who shall find leisure from party and faction to carry such a scheme into execution, will, in all probability, be respected by posterity as the Mæcenas of letters. We now take leave of Dr. Johnson as an author. Four volumes of his Lives of the Poets were published in 1778, and the work was completed in 1781. Should Biography fall again into disuse, there will not always be a Johnson to look back through a cen- tury, and give a body of critical and moral instruction. In April 1781, he lost his friend Mr. Thrale. His own words, in his diary, will best tell that melancholy event. 66 On Wednesday the 11th of April, was buried my dear friend Mr. Thrale, who died on "Wednesday the 4th, and with him were "buried many of my hopes and pleasures. "About five, I think, on Wednesday morn- 66 66 ing he expired. I felt almost the last flut- "ter of his pulse, and looked for the last "time upon the face, that, for fifteen years "before, had never been turned upon me "but with respect and benignity. Farewel: may God, that delighteth in mercy, have " had $ 122 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "had mercy on thee! I had constantly pray- "ed for him before his death. The decease "of him, from whose friendship I had ob- "tained many opportunities of amusement, "and to whom I turned my thoughts as to 66 a refuge from misfortunes, has left me heavy. But my business is with myself."- From the close of his last work, the malady that persecuted him through life came upon him with alarming severity, and his consti- tution declined apace. In 1782 his old friend Levet expired without warning, and with- out a groan. Events like these reminded Johnson of his own mortality. He conti- nued his visits to Mrs. Thrale at Streatham, to the 7th day of October, 1782, when hav- ing first composed a prayer for the happiness of a family with whom he had for many years enjoyed the pleasures and comforts of life, he removed to his own house in town. He says he was up early in the morning, and read fortuitously in the Gospel, which was his parting use of the library. The merit of the family is manifested by the sense he had of it, and we see his heart overflowing with gratitude. He leaves the place with regret, and casts a lingering look behind. The GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 123 The few remaining occurrences may be soon dispatched. In the month of June, 1783, Johnson had a paralytic stroke, which affected his speech only. He wrote to Dr. Taylor of Westminster; and to his friend Mr. Allen, the printer, who lived at the next door. Dr. Brocklesby arrived in a short time, and by his care, and that of Dr. Heberden, Johnson soon recovered. During his illness the writer of this narrative visited him, and found him reading Dr. Watson's Chemistry. Articulating with difficulty, he said, "From this book, he who knows no- thing may learn a great deal; and he who "knows, will be pleased to find his know- ledge recalled to his mind in a manner 66 66 86 highly pleasing." In the month of August he set out for Lichfield, on a visit to Mrs. Lucy Porter, the daughter of his wife by her first husband; and in his way back paid his respects to Dr. Adams at Oxford. Mrs. Williams died at his house in Bolt-court in the month of September, during his absence. This was another shock to a mind like his, ever agitated by the thoughts of futurity. The contemplation of his own approaching end 124 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND end was constantly before his eyes; and the prospect of death, he declared, was terrible. For many years, when he was not disposed to enter into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near his chair, might hear him repeating, from Shakspeare, Ay, but to die and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod, and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods And from Milton, Who would lose, For fear of pain, this intellectual being? By the death of Mrs. Williams he was left in a state of destitution, with nobody but Frank, his black servant, to sooth his an- xious moments. In November 1783, he was swelled from head to foot with a dropsy. Dr. Brocklesby, with that benevolence with which he always assists his friends, paid his visits with assiduity. The medicines pre- scribed were so efficacious, that in a few days, Johnson, while he was offering up his prayers, was GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 125 was suddenly obliged to rise, and, in the course of the day, discharged twenty pints of water. Johnson, being eased of his dropsy, began to entertain hopes that the vigour of his constitution was not entirely broken. For the sake of conversing with his friends, he established a conversation club, to meet on every Wednesday evening; and, to serve a man whom he had known in Mr. Thrale's houshold for many years, the place was fixed at his house in Essex-street near the Temple. To answer the malignant remarks of Sir John Hawkins on this subject, were a wretched waste of time. Professing to be Johnson's friend, that biographer has raised more ob- jections to his character, than all the ene- mies of that, excellent man. Sir John had a root of bitterness that put rancours in the vessel of his peace. Fielding, he says, was the inventor of a cant phrase, Goodness of heart, which means little more than the virtue of a horse or a dog. He should have known that kind affections are the essence of virtue; they are the will of God implanted in our nature, 126 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND nature, to aid and strengthen moral obliga- tion; they incite to action; a sense of bene- volence is no less necessary than a sense of duty. Good affections are an ornament not only to an author but to his writings. He who shows himself upon a cold scent for opportunities to bark and snarl throughout a volume of six hundred pages, may, if he will, pretend to moralize; but GOODNESS OF HEART, or to use that politer phrase, the virtue of a horse or a dog, would redound more to his honour. But Sir John is no more our business is with Johnson. The members of his club were respectable for their rank, their talents, and their literature. They attended with punctuality till about Midsummer 1784, when, with some appear- ance of health, Johnson went into Derby- shire, and thence to Lichfield. While he was in that part of the world, his friends in town were labouring for his benefit. The air of a more southern climate they thought might prolong a valuable life. But a pen- sion of £. 300 a year was a slender fund for a travelling valetudinarian, and it was not then known that he had saved a moderate sum GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 127 sum of money. Mr. Boswell and Sir Joshua Reynolds undertook to solicit the patronage of the Chancellor. With Lord Thurlow, while he was at the bar, Johnson was well acquainted. He was often heard to say, "Thurlow is a man of such vigour of mind, "that I never knew I was to meet him but- "I was going to say, I was afraid, but that "would not be true, for I never was afraid "of any man; but I never knew that I was "to meet Thurlow, but I knew I had some- 66 thing to encounter." The Chancellor un- dertook to recommend Johnson's case; but without success. To protract if possible the days of a man, whom he respected, he offered to advance the sum of five hundred pounds. Being informed of this at Lichfield, Johnson wrote the following letter. 66 66 My Lord, "After a long and not inattentive obser- "vation of mankind, the generosity of your Lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder "than gratitude. Bounty, so liberally be- "stowed, I should gladly receive if my con- "dition 128 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 66 "dition made it necessary; for to such a "mind who would not be proud to own his obligations? But it has pleased God to "restore me to so great a measure of health, that, if I should now appropriate so much "of a fortune destined to do good, I could "not escape from myself the charge of ad- vancing a false claim. My journey to the "continent, though I once thought it ne- 66 cessary, was never much encouraged by 66 66 my physicians and I was very desirous "that your Lordship should be told it by "Sir Joshua Reynolds as an event very un- "certain; for, if I grew much better, I "should not be willing; if much worse, I "should not be able to migrate. Your Lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but when I was told that you were pleased to honour me with your pa- 66 66 66 66 tronage, I did not expect to hear of a re- "fusal; yet, as I have had no long time to "brood hopes, and have not ricted in ima- "ginary opulence, this cold reception has "been scarce a disappointment; and from 66 your Lordship's kindness I have received a "benefit GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 129 "benefit which only men like you are able "to bestow. I shall now live mihi carior, "with a higher opinion of my own merit. "I am, my Lord, "Your Lordship's most obliged, "most grateful, " and most humble servant, "SAMUEL JOHNSON." 4 September, 1784." We have in this instance the exertion of two congenial minds; one, with a generous impulse relieving merit in distress; and the other, by gratitude and dignity of sentiment rising to an equal elevation. Dr. It seems, however, that greatness of mind is not confined to greatness of rank. Brocklesby was not content to assist with his medical art; he resolved to minister to his patient's mind, and pluck from his memory the sorrow which the late refusal from a high quarter might occasion. To enable him to visit the south of France in pursuit of health, he offered from his own funds an annuity of one hundred pounds, payable quarterly. This was a sweet oblivious antidote, but it was VOL. I.. K not 139 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND not accepted for the reasons assigned to the Chancellor. The proposal, however, will do honour to Dr. Brocklesby, as long as liberal sentiment shall be ranked among the social virtues. In the month of October, 1784, we find Dr. Johnson corresponding with Mr. Nichols, the intelligent compiler of the Gentleman's Magazine, and, in the languor of sickness, still desirous to contribute all in his power to the advancement of science and useful knowledge. He says, in a letter to that gen- tleman, dated Lichfield, October 20, that he should be glad to give so skilful a lover of Antiquities any information. He adds, " At "Ashburne, where I had very little company, "I had the luck to borrow Mr. Bowyer's “Life, a book so full of contemporary 66 history, that a literary man must find some "of his old friends. I thought that I could "now and then have told you some hints "worth your notice: We perhaps may talk 2 life over. I hope we shall be much to- 66 C6 " gether. You must now be to me what you were before, and what dear Mr. Allen was besides. He was taken unexpectedly 66 away, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 131 66 away, but I think he was a very good man. “I have made very little progress in reco- 66 very. I am very weak, and very sleepless; "but I live on and hope." In that languid condition he arrived, on the 16th of November, at his house in Bolt-court, there to end his days. He laboured with the dropsy and an asthma. He was attended by Dr. Heberden, Dr. Warren, Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Butter, and Mr. Cruikshank, the eminent surgeon. Eternity presented to his mind an awful prospect, and, with as much virtue as perhaps ever is the lot of man, he shud- dered at the thought of his dissolution. His friends awakened the comfortable reflection of a well-spent life; and, as his end drew near, they had the satisfaction of seeing him composed, and even cheerful, insomuch that he was able, in the course of his restless nights, to make translations of Greek epi- grams from the Anthologi a; and to compose a Latin epitaph for his father, his mother, and his brother Nathaniel. He meditated, at the same time, a Latin inscription to the memory of Garrick; but his vigour was exhausted. K 2 His 132 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND His love of Literature was a passion that stuck to his last sand. Seven days before his death he wrote the following letter to his friend Mr. Nichols : "SIR, "The late learned Mr. Swinton of Oxford having one day remarked that one man, meaning, I suppose, no man but himself, could assign all the parts of the Ancient Universal History to their proper authors, at the request of Sir Robert Chambers, or myself, gave the account which I now transmit to you in his own hand, being willing that of so great a work the history should be known, and that each writer should receive his due proportion of praise from posterity. "I recommend to you to preserve this scrap of literary intelligence in Mr. Swinton's own hand, or to deposit it in the Museum * that the veracity of this account may never be doubted. "I am, SIR, "Your most humble servant, " Dec. 6, 1784. "SAM. JOHNSON." * It is there deposited. J. N. Mr. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 133 Mr. Swinton, The History of the Carthaginians. Numidians. Mauritanians. Gætulians. Garamantes. Melano Gætulians. Nigritæ. Cyrenaica. of America. Marmarica. Regio Syrtica. Turks, Tartars, and Moguls. Indians. Chinese. Dissertation on the peopling The History of the Dissertation on the Inde- pendency of the Arabs. The Cosmogony, and a small part of the his- tory immediately following. By M. Sale. To the Birth of Abraham. Chiefly by Mr. Shelvock. History of the Jews, Gauls, and Spaniards. By Mr. Psalmanazar. Xenophon's Retreat. By the same. K 3 History 77. 134 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND History of the Persians, and the Constanti- nopolitan Empire. By Dr. Campbell. History of the Romans. By Mr. Bower*. On the morning of Dec. 7, Dr. Johnson requested to see Mr. Nichols. A few days before, he had borrowed some of the early volumes of the Magazine, with a professed intention to point out the pieces which he had written in that collection. The books lay on the table, with many leaves doubled down, and in particular those which con- tained his share in the Parliamentary De- bates. *Before this authentic communication, Mr. Nichols had given in the volume of the Gentleman's Magazine for 1781, p. 370, the following account of the Universal History. The proposals were published October 6, 1729; and the authors of the first seven volumes were, Vol. I. Mr. Sale, translator of the Koran. II. George Psalmanazar. III. George Psalmanazar. Archibald Bower. Captain Shelvock. Dr. Campbell. IV. The same as Vol. III. V. Mr. Bower. VI. Mr. Bower. Rev. John Swinton. VII. Mr. Swinton. Mr. Bower. GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 135 bates. Such was the goodness of Johnson's heart, that he then declared, that "those "debates were the only parts of his writings "which gave him any compunction: but 66 66 66 66 never "that at the time he wrote them he had no conception that he was imposing upon the world, though they were frequently writ- "ten from very slender materials, and often "from none at all, the mere coinage of his own imagination." He added, "that he wrote any part of his work with equal velocity. Three columns of the Magazine in an hour," he said, was no uncommon effort; which was faster than "most persons could have transcribed that quantity. In one day in particular, and "that not a very long one, he wrote twelve pages, more in quantity than ever he wrote 66 56 66 66 66 66 "at any other time, except in the Life of 66 Savage, of which forty-eight pages in oc- "tavo were the production of one long day, including a part of the night." 66 In the course of the conversation he asked, whether any of the family of Faden the printer were living. Being told that the geographer near Charing-cross was Faden's K 4 son, 136 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND ! son, he said, after a short pause, "I borrowed 66 a guinea of his father near thirty years ago; "be so good as to take this, and pay it for 66 me." Wishing to discharge every duty, and every obligation, Johnson recollected another debt of ten pounds, which he had borrowed from his friend Mr. Hamilton the printer, about twenty years before. He sent the money to Mr. Hamilton at his house in Bedford-row, with an apology for the length of time. The Reverend Mr. Strahan was the bearer of the message, about four or five days before Johnson breathed his last. Mr. Sastres (whom Dr. Johnson esteemed and mentioned in his Will) entered the room during his illness. Dr. Johnson, as soon as he saw him, stretched forth his hand, and, in a tone of lamentation, called out, JAM MORITURUS! But the love of life was still an active principle. Feeling himself swelled with the dropsy, he conceived that, by in- cisions in his legs, the water might be dis- charged. Mr. Cruikshank apprehended that a mortification might be the consequence; but, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 137 but, to appease a distempered fancy, he gently lanced the surface. Johnson cried out, Deeper, deeper! I want length of 66 66 life, and you are afraid of giving me pain, " which I do not value." On the 8th of December, the Reverend Mr. Strahan drew his will, by which, after a few legacies, the residue, amounting to about fifteen hundred pounds, was bequeathed to Frank, the Black servant, formerly consigned to the testator by his friend. Dr. Bathurst. The history of a death-bed is painful. Mr. Strahan informs us, that the strength of religion prevailed against the infirmity of nature; and his foreboding dread of the Divine Justice subsided into a pious trust and humble hope of mercy at the Throne of Grace. On Monday the 13th day of De- cember (the last of his existence on this side the grave), the desire of life returned with all its former vehemence. He still imagined, that, by puncturing his legs, relief might be obtained. At eight in the morning he tried the experiment, but no water followed. In an hour or two after, he fell into a doze, and about 138 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND about seven in the evening expired without a groan. On the 20th of the month his remains, with due solemnities, and a numerous atten- dance of his friends, were buried in West- minster Abbey, near the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and close to the grave of the late Mr. Garrick. The funeral service was read by his friend Dr. Taylor. A black marble over his grave has the following inscription: SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D. obiit XIII die Decembris, Anno Domini MDCCLX XXIV. Etatis suæ LXXV. If we now look back, as from an eminence, to view the scenes of life, and the literary la- bours in which Dr. Johnson was engaged, we may be able to delineate the features of the man, and to form an estimate of his genius. As a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in open day-light. Nothing remains undisco- vered. Whatever he said is known; and without GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 139 without allowing him the usual privilege of hazarding sentiments, and advancing posi- tions, for mere amusement, or the pleasure of discussion, Criticism has endeavoured to make him answerable for what, perhaps, he never seriously thought. His Diary, which has been printed, discovers still more. We have before us the very heart of the man, with all his inward consciousness. And yet neither in the open paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any one vice been disco- vered. We see him reviewing every year of his life, and severely censuring himself, for not keeping resolutions, which morbid me- lancholy, and other bodily infirmities, ren- dered impracticable. We see him for every little defect imposing on himself voluntary penance, going through the day with only one cup of tea without milk, and to the last, amidst paroxysms and remissions of illness, forming plans of study and resolutions to amend his life *. Many of his scruples may be called weaknesses; but they are the weak- nesses of a good, a pious, and most excellent man. His *On the subject of voluntary penance see the Rambler, N⚫ CX. 140 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND His person, it is well known, was large and unwieldy. His nerves were affected by that disorder, for which, at two years of age, he was presented to the royal touch. His head shook ; and involuntary motions made it uncertain that his legs and arms would, even at a tea-table, remain in their proper place. A person of Lord of Lord Chesterfield's delicacy might in his company be in a fever. He would sometimes of his own accord do things inconsistent with the established modes of be- haviour. Sitting at table with the celebrated Mrs. Cholmondeley, who exerted herself to circulate the subscription for Shakspeare, he took hold of her hand in the middle of dinner, and held it close to his eye, wondering at the delicacy and the whiteness, till with a smile she asked, Will he give it to me again when he has done with it? The exteriors of politeness did not belong to Johnson. Even that civility which proceeds, or ought to pro- ceed, from the mind, was sometimes violated. His morbid melancholy had an effect on his temper; his passions were irritable; and the pride of science, as well as of a fierce inde- Fendent spirit, inflamed him on some occasions above GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 141 above all bounds of moderation. Though not in the shade of academic bowers, he led a scholastic life; and the habit of pronounc- ing decisions to his friends and visitors gave him a dictatorial manner, which was much enforced by a voice naturally loud, and often overstretched. Metaphysical discussion, moral theory, systems of religion, and anecdotes of literature, were his favourite topics. General history had little of his regard. Biography was his delight. The proper study of mankind is mun. Sooner than hear of the Punic war, he would be rude to the person that intro- duced the subject. Johnson was born a logician; one of those, to whom only books of logic are said to be of use. In consequence of his skill in that art, he loved argumentation. No man thought more profoundly, nor with such acute dis- cernment. A fallacy could not stand before him; it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and a precision both in idea and expression almost unequalled. When he chose by apt illustration to place the argument of his adversary in a ludicrous light, one was almost 142 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND almost inclined to think ridicule the test of truth. He was surprized to be told, but it is certainly true, that, with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his shining talents. That he often argued for the sake of a triumph over his adversary, cannot be dissembled. Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, has been heard to tell of a friend of his, who thanked him for introducing him to Dr. Johnson, as he had been convinced, in the course of a long dispute, that an opinion, which he had em- braced as a settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error. This being reported to John- son, "Nay," said he, " do not let him be “thankful, for he was right, and I was wrong." Like his uncle Andrew, in the ring at Smithfield, Johnson, in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be thrown nor conquered. Notwithstanding all his piety, self-government, or the command of his passions in conversation, does not seem to have been among his attainments. When- ever he thought the contention was for the superiority, he has been known to break out with violence, and even ferocity. When the fray was over, he generally softened into re- pentance, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 143 pentance, and, by conciliating measures, took care that no animosity should be left rankling in the breast of his antagonist. Of this defect he seems to have been conscious. In a letter to Mrs. Thrale, he says, "Poor Baretti! do 66 66 not quarrel with him; to neglect him a little "will be sufficient. He means only to be "frank and manly, and independent, and, perhaps as you say, a little wise. To be "frank, he thinks, is to be cynical; and to "be independent, is to be rude. Forgive "him, dearest lady, the rather, because of "his misbehaviour I am afraid he learned part of me. of me. I hope to set him hereafter a "better example." For his own intolerant and overbearing spirit he apologized, by ob- serving, that it had done some good; obscenity and impiety were repressed in his company. It was late in life before he had the habit of mixing, otherwise than occasionally, with polite company. At Mr. Thrale's he saw a constant succession of well-accomplished vi- sitors. In that society he began to wear off the rugged points of his own character. He saw the advantages of mutual civility, and endeavoured to profit by the models before him. 144 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND him. He aimed at what has been called by Swift the lesser morals, and by Cicero minores virtutes. His endeavour, though new and late, gave pleasure to all his acquaintance. Men were glad to see that he was willing to be communicative on equal terms and re- ciprocal complacence. The time was then expected when he was to cease being what George Garrick, brother to the celebrated actor, called him the first time he heard him converse, "A TREMENDOUS COMPANION." He certainly wished to be polite, and even thought himself so; but his civility still re- tained something uncouth and harsh. His manners took a milder tone, but the endea- your was too palpably seen. He laboured even in trifles. He was a giant gaining a purchase to lift a feather. He It is observed by the younger Pliny, that in the confines of virtue and great qualities there are generally vices of an opposite nature. In Dr. Johnson not one ingredient can take the name of vice. From his attainments in literature grew the pride of knowledge; and from his powers of reasoning, the love of dispu- tation and the vain-glory of superiour vigour. His GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 145 His piety, in some instances, bordered on superstition. He was willing to believe in preternatural agency, and thought it not more strange that there should be evil spirits than evil men. Even the question about second sight held him in suspense. "Second sight," Mr. Pennant tells us, "is a power of seeing 66 images impressed on the organs of sight by "the power of fancy, or on the fancy by the "disordered spirits operating on the mind. "It is the faculty of seeing spectres or visions, "which represent an event actually passing "at a distance, or likely to happen at a future day. In 1771, a gentleman, the last who 66 66 was supposed to be possessed of this faculty, “had a boat at sea in a tempestuous night, 66 66 and, being anxious for his freight, suddenly "started up, and said his men would be drowned, for he had seen them pass before ❝him with wet garments and dropping locks. "The event corresponded with his disordered fancy. And thus," continues Mr. Pennant, a distempered imagination, clouded with anxiety, may make an impression on the spirits; as persons, restless and troubled with 66 66 66 66 66 indignation, see various forms and figures "while they lie awake in bed." This is what VOL. I. L Dr. 146 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Dr. Johnson was not willing to reject. He wished for some positive proof of communi- cations with another world. His benevolence embraced the whole race of man, and yet was tinctured with particular prejudices. He was pleased with the minister in the Isle of Sky, he loved him so much that he began to wish him not a Presbyterian. To that body of Dissenters his zeal for the Established Church made him in some degree an adver- sary; and his attachment to a mixed and limited Monarchy led him to declare open war against what he called a sullen Repub- lican. He would rather praise a man of Oxford than of Cambridge. He disliked a Whig, and loved a Tory. These were the shades of his character, which it has been the business of certain party-writers to represent in the darkest colours. Since virtue, or moral goodness, consists in a just conformity of our actions to the rela- tions in which we stand to the Supreme Being and to our fellow-creatures, where shall we find a man who has been, or endeavoured to be, more diligent in the discharge of those essential duties? His first prayer was com- posed in 1738; he continued those fervent ejaculations GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 147 ejaculations of piety to the end of his life. In his Meditations we see him scrutinizing himself with severity, and aiming at perfec- tion unattainable by man. His duty to his neighbour consisted in universal benevolence, and a constant aim at the production of hap- piness. Who was more sincere and steady in his friendships? It has been said that there was no real affection between him and Gar- rick. On the part of the latter, there might be some corrosions of jealousy. The charac- ter of PROSPERO, in the Rambler, N° 200, was, beyond all question, occasioned by Garrick's ostentatious display of furniture and Dresden china. It was surely fair to take from this incident a hint for a moral essay; and, though no more was intended, Garrick, we are told, remembered it with uneasiness. He was also hurt that his Litchfield friend did not think so highly of his dramatick art as the rest of the world. The fact was, Johnson could not see the passions as they rose and chased one another in the varied features of that expressive face; and by his own manner of reciting verses, which was wonderfully im- pressive, he plainly showed that he thought there was too much of artificial tone and measured L 2 148 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 66 measured cadence in the declamation of the theatre. The present writer well remembers being in conversation with Dr. Johnson near the side of the scenes during the tragedy of King Lear; when Garrick came off the stage, he said, "You two talk so loud you destroy "all my feelings." Prithee," replied John- son, "do not talk of feelings, Punch has no feelings." This seems to have been his settled opinion; admirable as Garrick's imitation of nature always was, Johnson thought it no better than mere mimickry. Yet it is certain that he esteemed and loved Garrick; that he dwelt with pleasure on his praise; and used to declare, that he deserved his great success, because on all applications for charity he gave more than was asked. After Garrick's death he never talked of him without a tear in his eyes. He offered, if Mrs. Garrick would desire it of him, to be the editor of his works and the historian of his life*. It has *It is to be regretted that he was not encouraged in this undertaking. The assistance, however, which he gave to Davies, in writing the Life of Garrick, has been ucknowledged in general terms by that writer, and, from the evidence of style, appears to have been very consi- derable. C. been GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 149 been mentioned, that on his death-bed he thought of writing a Latin inscription to the memory of his friend. Numbers are still living who know these facts, and still re- member with gratitude the friendship which he showed to them with unaltered affection for a number of years. His humanity and generosity, in proportion to his slender in- come, were unbounded. It has been truly said, that the lame, the blind, and the sor- rowful, found in his house a sure retreat. strict adherence to truth he considered as a sacred obligation, insomuch that, in relating the most minute anecdote, he would not allow himself the smallest addition to embellish his story. The late Mr. Tyers, who knew Dr. Johnson intimately, observed, "that he always "talked as if he was talking upon oath." A After a long acquaintance with this ex- cellent man, and an attentive retrospect to his whole conduct, such is the light in which he appears to the writer of this essay. The following lines of Horace may be deemed his picture in miniature. Iracundior L 3 is 150 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Iracundior est paulo, minus aptus acutis Naribus horum hominum, rideri possit, eo quod Rusticius tonso toga defluit, & male laxus In pede calceus hæret; at est bonus, ut melior vir Non alius quisquam; at tibi amicus, at ingenium ingens, Inculto latet hoc sub corpore. "Your friend is passionate, perhaps unfit For the brisk petulance of modern wit. His hair ill-cut, his robe that awkward flows, Or his large shoes, to raillery expose. The man you love; yet is he not possess'd Of virtues, with which very few are blest? While underneath this rude, uncouth disguise A genius of extensive knowledge lies. Francis's Hor. Book i. Sat. 3. It remains to give a review of Johnson's works; and this, it is imagined, will not be unwelcome to the reader. Like Milton and Addison, he seems to have been fond of his Latin poetry. Those com- positions show that he was an early scholar; but his verses have not the graceful ease that gave so much suavity to the poems of Addison. The translation of the Messiah labours GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 151 labours under two disadvantages; it is first compared with Pope's inimitable performance, and afterwards with the Pollio of Virgil. It may appear trifling to remark, that he has made the letter o, in the word Virgo, long and short in the same line; VIRGO, VIRGO PARIT. But the translation has great merit, and some admirable lines. In the odes there is a sweet flexibility, particularly, To his worthy friend Dr. Laurence; on himself at the theatre, March 8, 1771; the Ode in the isle of Sky; and that to Mrs. Thrale from the same place. His English poetry is such as leaves room to think, if he had devoted himself to the Muses, that he would have been the rival of Pope. His first production of this kind was LONDON, a poem in imitation of the third satire of Juvenal. The vices of the metro- polis are placed in the room of ancient man- ners. The author had heated his mind with the ardour of Juvenal, and, having the skill to polish his numbers, he became a sharp ac- cuser of the times. The VANITY of HUMAN WISHES is an imitation of the tenth satire of the same author. Though it is translated L 4 by 152 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND by Dryden, Johnson's imitation approaches nearest to the spirit of the original. The sub- ject is taken from the ALCIBIADES of PLATO, and has an intermixture of the sentiments of SOCRATES Concerning the object of prayers offered up to the Deity. The general pro- position is, that good and evil are so little un- derstood by mankind, that their wishes when granted are always destructive. This is ex- emplified in a variety of instances, such as riches, state-preferment, eloquence, military glory, long life, and the advantages of form and beauty. Juvenal's conclusion is worthy of a Christian poet, and such a pen as John- "Let us," he he says, "leave it to the gods to judge what is fittest for us. Man "is dearer to his Creator than to himself. If "we must pray for special favour, let it be "for a sound mind in a sound body. Let us 66 pray for fortitude, that we may think the "labours of Hercules and all his sufferings son's. 66 66 66 66 preferable to a life of luxury and the soft repose of SARDANAPALUS. This is a blessing within the reach of every man; "this we can give ourselves. It is virtue, "and virtue only, that can make us happy." In the translation the zeal of the Christian conspired GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 153 conspired with the warmth and energy of the poet; but Juvenal is not eclipsed. For the various characters in the original the reader is pleased, in the English poem, to meet with Cardinal Wolsey, Buckingham stabbed by Felton, Lord Strafford, Clarendon, Charles XII. of Sweden; and for Tully and Demos- thenes, Lydiat, Galileo, and Archbishop Laud. It is owing to Johnson's delight in biography that the name of LYDIAT is called forth from obscurity. It may, therefore, not be useless to tell, that LYDIAT was a learned divine and mathematician in the beginning of the last century. He attacked the doctrine of Aristotle and Scaliger, and wrote a number of sermons on the harmony of the Evangelists. With all his merit, he lay in the prison of Bocardo at Oxford, till Bishop Usher, Laud, and others, paid his debts. He petitioned Charles I. to be sent to Ethiopia to procure manuscripts. Having spoken in favour of mo- narchy and bishops, he was plundered by the Puritans, and twice carried away a prisoner from his rectory. He died very poor in 1646. The Tragedy of Irene is founded on a pas- sage in KNOLLES's History of the Turks; an 154 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND an author highly commended in the Rambler, N° 122. An incident in the Life of Ma- homet the Great, first emperour of the Turks, is the hinge on which the fable is made to move. The substance of the story is shortly this. In 1453 Mahomet laid siege to Con- stantinople, and having reduced the place, became enamoured of a fair Greek, whose name was IRENE. The sultan invited her to embrace the law of the Prophet, and to grace his throne. Enraged at this intended marriage, the Janizaries formed a conspiracy to dethrone the emperour. To avert the im- pending danger, Mahomet, in a full assem- bly of the grandees, "Catching with one "hand," as KNOLLES relates it," the fair "Greek by the hair of her head, and draw- 66 ing his falchion with the other, he, at one "blow, struck off her head, to the great "terrour of them all; and, having so done, "said unto them, Now, by this, judge whe- "ther your emperour is able to bridle his af- "fections or not." The story is simple, and it remained for the author to amplify it with proper episodes, and give it complication and variety. The catastrophe is changed, and horror gives place to terrour and piety. But, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 155 But, after all, the fable is cold and languid. There is not, throughout the piece, a single situation to excite curiosity, and raise a con- flict of passions. The diction is nervous, rich, and elegant; but splendid language, and me- lodious numbers, will make a fine poem, not a tragedy. The sentiments are beautiful, always happily expressed, but seldom ap- propriated to the character, and generally too philosophick. What Johnson has said of the Tragedy of Cato may be applied to Irene; "It is rather a poem in dialogue than 66 a drama; rather a succession of just senti- ments in elegant language, than a represen- "tation of natural affections. Nothing excites 66 or assuages emotion. The events are expect- "ed without solicitude, and are remembered "without joy or sorrow. Of the agents we "have no care; we consider not what they are doing, nor what they are suffering; we wish 66 66 66 only to know what they have to say. It is unaffecting elegance, and chill philosophy." The following speech, in the mouth of a Turk, who is supposed to have heard of the British constitution, has been often selected from the numberless beauties with which IRENE abounds: " If 156 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "If there be any land, as Fame reports, Where common laws restrain the prince and subject; A happy land, where circulating power Flows through each member of th' embodied state ; Sure, not unconscious of the mighty blessing, Her grateful sons shine bright with ev'ry virtue; Untainted with the LUST OF INNOVATION; Sure all unite to hold her league of rule, Unbroken as the sacred chain of Nature, That links the jarring elements in peace. These are British sentiments. Above forty years ago they found an echo in the breast of applauding audiences; and to this hour they are the voice of the people, in defiance of the metaphysicks and the new lights of certain politicians, who would gladly find their private advantage in the disasters of their country; a race of men, quibus nulla ex honesto spes. The Prologue to Irene is written with ele- gance, and, in a peculiar strain shows the literary pride and lofty spirit of the author. The Epilogue, we are told in a late publi- cation, was written by Sir William Young. This is a new discovery, but by no means probable. When the appendages to a Dra- matick GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 157 matick Performance are not assigned to a friend, or an unknown hand, or a person of fashion, they are always supposed to be writ- ten by the author of the Play. It is to be wished, however, that the Epilogue in ques- tion could be transferred to any other writer. It is the worst Jeu d' Esprit that ever fell from Johnson's pen*. It An account of the various pieces contained in this edition, such as miscellaneous tracts, and philological dissertations, would lead be- yond the intended limits of this essay. will suffice to say, that they are the produc- tions of a man who never wanted decorations of language, and always taught his reader to think. The life of the late king of Prussia, as far as it extends, is a model of the biogra- phical style. The Review of THE Origin OF EVIL was, perhaps, written with asperity; but the angry epitaph, which it provoked from SOAME JENYNS, was an ill-timed re- * Dr. Jolmson informed Mr. Boswell that this Epilogue was written by Sir William Young. See Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. 1. p. 169–70. Svo. edit. 1804. The inter- nal evidence that it is not Johnson's is very strong, par- ticularly in the line, "But how the devil," &c. C. sentment, 158 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND sentment, unworthy of the genius of that amiable author. The Rambler may be considered as John- son's great work. It was the basis of that high reputation which went on increasing to the end of his days. The circulation of those periodical essays was not, at first, equal to their merit. They had not, like the Spectators, the art of charming by variety; and indeed how could it be expected? The wits of queen Anne's reign sent their contributions to the Spectator; and Johnson stood alone. A stage-coach, says Sir Richard Steele, must go forward on stated days, whether there are So it was with the Ram- passengers or not. bler, every Tuesday and Saturday, for two years. In this collection Johnson is the great moral teacher of his countrymen; his essays form a body of ethics; the observations on life and manners are acute and instructive ; and the papers professedly critical, serve to promote the cause of literature. It must, however, be acknowledged, that a settled gloom hangs over the author's mind; and all the essays, except eight or ten, coming from the same fountain-head, no wonder that they have GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 159 have the raciness of the soil from which they sprang. Of this uniformity Johnson was sensible. He used to say, that if he had joined a friend or two, who would have been able to intermix papers of a sprightly turn, the collection would have been more miscellane- ous, and by consequence more agreeable to the generality of readers. This he used to illustrate by repeating two beautiful stanzas from his own Ode to Cave, or Sylvanus Urban : Non ulla Musis pagina gratior, Quam quæ severis ludicra jungere Novit, fatigatamque nugis Utilibus recreare mentem. Texente nymphis certa Lycoride, Rosæ ruborem sic viola adjuvat Immista, sic Iris refulget Æthereis variata fucis. It is remarkable, that the pomp of diction, which has been objected to Johnson, was first assumed in the Rambler. His Dictionary was going on at the same time, and, in the course of that work, as he grew familiar with technical 160 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND technical and scholastic words, he thought that the bulk of his readers were equally learned; or at least would admire the splen- dour and dignity of the style. And yet it is well known, that he praised in Cowley the ease and unaffected structure of the sen- tences. Cowley may be placed at the head of those who cultivated a clear and natural style. Dryden, Tillotson, and Sir William Temple, followed. Addison, Swift, and Pope, with more correctness, carried our language well nigh to perfection. Of Addison, Johnson was used to say, He is the Raphael of Essay Writers. How he differed so widely from such elegant models is a problem not to be solved, unless it be true that he took an early tincture from the writers of the last century, particularly Sir Thomas Browne. Hence the peculiarities of his style, new combina- tions, sentences of an unusual structure, and words derived from the learned languages. His own account of the matter is, "When "common words were less pleasing to the ear, or less distinct in their signification, I "familiarized the terms of philosophy, by 66 66 applying them to popular ideas." But he forgot the observation of Dryden: If too many GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 161 many foreign words are poured in upon us, it looks as if they were designed, not to assist the natives, but to conquer them. There is, it must be admitted, a swell of language, often out of all proportion to the sentiment; but there is, in general, a fulness of mind, and the thought seems to expand with the sound of the words. Determined to discard col- loquial barbarisms and licentious idioms, he forgot the elegant simplicity that distinguishes the writings of Addison. He had what Locke calls a round-about view of his subject; and though he was never tainted, like many modern wits, with the ambition of shining in paradox, he may be fairly called an ORI- GINAL THINKER. His reading was exten- sive. He treasured in his mind whatever was worthy of notice, but he added to it from his own meditation. He collected, quæ reconderet, auctaque promeret. Addison was not so pro- found a thinker. He was born to write, con- verse, and live with ease; and he found an early patron in Lord Somers. He depended, however, more upon a fine taste than the vigour of his mind. His Latin Poetry show that he relished, with a just selection, all the refined and delicate beauties of the Roman classicks; VOL. I. Μ M1 162 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND classicks; and, when he cultivated his native language, no wonder that he formed that graceful style, which has been so justly ad- mired; simple yet elegant; adorned, yet never over-wrought; rich in allusion, yet pure and perspicuous; correct, without labour; and though sometimes deficient in strength, yet always musical. His essays in general are on the surface of life; if ever original, it was in pieces of humour. Sir Roger de Coverley, and the Tory Fox-hunter, need not to be mentioned. Johnson had a fund of humour, but he did know it; nor was he willing to descend to the familiar idiom and the variety of diction which that mode of composition required. The letter, in the Rambler, N° 12, from a young girl that wants a place, will illustrate this observation. Addison possessed an unclouded imagination, alive to the first objects of nature and of art. He reaches the sublime without any apparent effort. When he tells us, "If we consider "the fixed stars as so many oceans of flame, “that are each of them attended with a dif- ferent set of planets; if we still discover new "firmaments and new lights that are sunk "farther in those unfathomable depths of "æther; GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 163 * æther; we are lost in a labyrinth of suns "and worlds, and confounded with the mag- "nificence and immensity of nature;” the ease, with which this passage rises to unaf- fected grandeur, is the secret charm that cap- tivates the reader. Johnson is always lofty; he seems, to use Dryden's phrase, to be o'er- inform'd with meaning, and his words do not appear to himself adequate to his conception. He moves in state, and his periods are always harmonious. His Oriental Tales are in the true style of Eastern magnificence, and yet none of them are so much admired as the Visions of Mirza. In matters of criticism, Johnson is never the echo of preceding writers. He thinks and decides for himself. except the Essays on the Pleasures of Ima- gination, Addison cannot be called a philoso- phical critick. His moral Essays are beautiful: but in that province nothing can exceed the Rambler, though Johnson used to say that, the Essay on The burthens of mankind (in the Spectator, N° 558) was the most exquisite he had ever read. Talking of himself, Johnson said, "Topham Beauclerk has wit, and every thing comes from him with ease; but when "I say a good thing, I seem to labour." 66 66 M 2 If we When 164 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND When we compare him with Addison, the contrast is still stronger. Addison lends grace and ornament to truth; Johnson gives it force and energy. Addison makes virtue amiable ; Johnson represents it as an awful duty. Addison insinuates himself with an air of modesty; Johnson commands like a dictator; but a dictator in his splendid robes, not Jabouring at the plough. Addison is the Jupiter of Virgil, with placid serenity talking to Venus: "Vultu, quo cœlum tempestatesque serenat." Johnson is JUPITER TONANS: he darts his lightning, and rolls his thunder, in the cause of virtue and piety. The language seems to fall short of his ideas; he pours along, fami- liarizing the terms of philosophy, with bold inversions, and sonorous periods; but we may apply to him what Pope has said of Homer; "It is the sentiment that swells and fills out "the diction, which rises with it, and forms itself about it; like glass in the furnace, "which grows to a greater magnitude, as the "breath within is more powerful, and the "heat more intense." It GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 165 It is not the design of this comparison to decide between these two eminent writers. In matters of taste every reader will choose for himself. Johnson is always profound, and of course gives the fatigue of thinking. Addison charms while he instructs; and writing, as h● always does, a pure, an elegant, and idiomatick style, he may be pronounced the safest model for imitation. The essays written by Johnson in the Ad- venturer may be called a continuation of the Rambler. The IDLER, in order to be con- sistent with the assumed character, is written with abated vigour, in a style of ease and un- laboured elegance. It is the Odyssey after the Iliad. Intense thinking would not become the IDLER. The first number presents a well- drawn portrait of an Idler, and from that character no deviation could be made. cordingly, Johnson forgets his austere man- ner, and plays us into sense. He still con- tinues his lectures on human life, but he ad- verts to common occurrences, and is often content with the topick of the day. An ad- vertisement in the beginning of the fist volume M 3 Ac- 166 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND F volume informs us, that twelve entire essays were a contribution from different hands. One of these, N° 33, is the journal of a Senior Fellow at Cambridge, but, as Johnson, being himself an original thinker, always revolted from servile imitation, he has printed the piece, with an apology, importing that the journal of a citizen in the Spectator almost precluded the attempt of any subsequent writer. This account of the Idler may be closed, after observing, that the author's mother being buried on the 23d of January, 1759, there is an admirable paper occasioned by that event, on Saturday the 27th of the same month, N° 41. The reader, if he pleases, may compare it with another fine paper in the Rambler, N° 54, on the conviction that rushes on the mind at the bed of a dying friend. "Rassellas," says Sir John Hawkins, "is a specimen of our language scarcely to be pa- ralleled; it is written in a style refined to a degree of immaculate purity, and displays the whole force of turgid eloquence." One can- not but smile at this encomium. Rasselas is undoubtedly both elegant and sublime. It is a view GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 167 a view of human life, displayed, it must be owned, in gloomy colours. The author's natural melancholy, depressed, at the time, by the approaching dissolution of his mother, darkened the picture. A tale, that should keep curiosity awake by the artifice of unex- pected incidents, was not the design of a mind pregnant with better things. He, who reads the heads of the chapters, will find, that it is not a course of adventures that invites him forward, but a discussion of interesting ques- tions; Reflections on Human Life; the His- tory of Imlac, the Man of Learning; a Dis- sertation upon Poetry; the Character of a wise and happy Man, who discourses with energy on the government of the passions, and on a sudden, when Death deprives him of his daughter, forgets all his maxims of wisdom and the eloquence that adorned them, yielding to the stroke of affliction with all the vehemence of the bitterest anguish. It is by pictures of life, and profound moral reflection, that expectation is engaged and gratified throughout the work. The History of the Mad Astronomer, who imagines, that, for five he possessed the regulation of the weather, years, M 4 168 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND weather, and that the sun passed from tropick to tropick by his direction, represents in strik- ing colours the sad effects of a distempered imagination. It becomes the more affecting when we recollect that it proceeds from one who lived in fear of the same dreadful visita- tion; from one who says emphatically, "Of "the uncertainties in our present state, the "most dreadful and alarming is the uncertain 66 continuance of reason." The inquiry into the cause of madness, and the dangerous pre- valence of imagination, till, in time, some par- ticular train of ideas fixes the attention, and the mind recurs constantly to the favourite conception, is carried on in a strain of acute observation; but it leaves us room to think that the author was transcribing from his own apprehensions. The discourse on the nature of the soul gives us all that philosophy knows, not without a tincture of superstition. It is remarkable that the vanity of human pur- suits was, about the same time, the subject that employed both Johnson and Voltaire. ; but Candide is the work of a lively imagina- tion, and Rasselas, with all its splendour of eloquence, exhibits a gloomy picture. It should ז' GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 169 should, however, be remembered, that the world has known the wEEPING as well as the LAUGHING philosopher. The Dictionary does not properly fall within the province of this essay. The pre- face however, will be found in this edition. He who reads the close of it, without ac- knowledging the force of the pathetick and sublime, must have more insensibility in his composition than usually falls to the share of a man. The work itself, though in some instances abuse has been loud, and in others malice has endeavoured to undermine its fame, still remains the MOUNT ATLAS of English Literature. Though storms and tempests thunder on its brow, And oceans break their billows at its feet, It stands unmov'd, and glories in its height. That Johnson was eminently qualified for the office of a commentator on Shakspeare, no man can doubt; but it was an office which he never cordially embraced. The publick expected more than he had diligence to per- form; and yet his edition has been the ground on 170 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND on which every subsequent commentator has chosen to build. One note, for its singularity, may be thought worthy of notice in this place. Hamlet says, For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing carrion. In this Warburton discovered the origin of evil. Hamlet, he says, breaks off in the middle of the sentence; but the learn- ed commentator knows what he was going to say, and, being unwilling to keep the secret, he goes on in a train of philosophical reason- ing that leaves the reader in astonishment. Johnson, with true piety, adopts the fanciful hypothesis, declaring it to be a noble emenda- tion, which almost sets the critick on a level with the author. The general observations at the end of the several plays, and the pre- face, will be found in this edition. The former, with great elegance and precision, give a sum- mary view of each drama. The preface is a tract of great erudition and philosophical criticism. Johnson's political pamphlets, whatever was his motive for writing them, whether grati- tude for his pension, or the solicitation of men in power, did not support the cause for which GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 171 which they were undertaken They are writ- ten in a style truly harmonious, and with his usual dignity of language. When it is said that he advanced positions repugnant to the common rights of mankind, the virulence of party may be suspected. It is, perhaps, true that in the clamour raised throughout the kingdom Johnson over-heated his mind; but he was a friend to the rights of man, and he was greatly superiour to the littleness of spirit that might incline him to advance what he did not think and firmly believe. In the False Alarm, though many of the most eminent men in the kingdom concurred in petitions to the throne, yet Johnson, having well sur- veyed the mass of the people, has given, with great humour and no less truth, what may be called, the birth, parentage, and education of a Remonstrance. On the subject of Falkland's islands, the fine dissuasive from too hastily involving the world in the calamities of war, must extort applause even from the party that wished, at that time, for scenes of tumult and commotion. It was in the same pam- phlet that Johnson offered battle to JUNIUS; a writer, who, by the uncommon elegance of his style, charmed every reader, though his object 172 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND object was to inflame the nation in favour of a faction. Junius fought in the dark; he saw his enemy, and had his full blow; while he himself remained safe in obscurity. But let us not, said Johnson, mistake the venom of the shaft for the vigour of the bow. The keen invective which he published on that occasion, promised a paper war between two combatants, who knew the use of their wea- pons. A battle between them was as eagerly expected as between Mendoza and Big Ben. But Junius, whatever was his reason, never returned to the field. He laid down his arms, and has, ever since, remained as secret as the MAN IN THE MASK in Voltaire's History. The account of his journey to the Hebrides, or Western Isles of Scotland, is a model for such as shall hereafter relate their travels. The author did not visit that part of the world in the character of an Antiquary, to amuse us with wonders taken from the dark and fabulous ages; nor as a Mathematician, to measure a degree, and settle the longitude and latitude of the several islands. Those, who expected such information, expected what was never intended. In every work regard the GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 173 the writer's end. Johnson went to see men and manners, modes of life, and the progress of civilization. His remarks are so artfully blended with the rapidity and elegance of his narrative, that the reader is inclined to wish, as Johnson did with regard to GRAY, that to travel and to tell his travels, had been more of his employment. As to Johnson's Parliamentary Debates, nothing with propriety can be said in this place. They are collected in two volumes by Mr. Stockdale; and the flow of eloquence which runs through the several speeches is sufficiently known. It will not be useless to mention two more volumes, which may form a proper supple- ment to this edition. They contain a set of Sermons left for publication by John Taylor, LL.D. The Reverend Mr. Hayes, who usher- ed these Discourses into the world, has not given them them as the composition of Dr. Taylor. All he could say for his departed friend was, that he left them in silence among his papers. Mr. Hayes knew them to be the production of a superiour mind; and the writer of 174 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND of these Memoirs owes it to the candour of that elegant scholar, that he is now warranted to give an additional proof of Johnson's ar- dour in the cause of piety, and every moral duty. The last discourse in the collection was intended to be delivered by Dr. Taylor at the funeral of Johnson's wife; but that Re- verend gentleman declined the office, because, as he told Mr. Hayes, the praise of the de- ceased was too much amplified. He, who reads the piece, will find it a beautiful moral lesson, written with temper, and no where over-charged with ambitious ornaments. The rest of the discourses were the fund, which Dr. Taylor, from time to time, carried with him to his pulpit. He had the LARGEST BULL* in England, and some of the best Sermons. We come now to the Lives of the Poets, a work undertaken at the age of seventy, yet the most brilliant, and certainly the most popular, of all our Author's writings. For this performance he needed little preparation. * See Johnson's Letters from Ashbourne, in Vol. XII. of this edition. Attentive GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 175 Attentive always to the history of letters, and by his own natural bias fond of biography, he was the more willing to embrace the pro- position of the Booksellers. He was versed in the whole body of English Poetry, and his rules of criticism were settled with precision. The dissertation, in the Life of Cowley, on the metaphysical Poets of the last century, has the attraction of novelty as well as sound observation. The writers who followed Dr. Donne went in quest of something better than truth and nature. As Sancho says in Don Quixote, they wanted better bread than is made with wheat. They took pains to be- wilder themselves, and were ingenious for no other purpose than to err, In Johnson's re- view of Cowley's works, false wit is detected in all its shapes, and the Gothic taste for glittering conceits, and far-fetched allusions, is exploded, never, it is hoped, to revive again. An author who has published his observa- tions on the Life and Writings of Dr. John- son, speaking of the Lives of the Poets, says, "These compositions, abounding in strong " and acute remark, and with many fine and 66 even 176 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND $6 even sublime 66 ' passages, have unquestionably great merit; but if they be regarded merely as containing narrations of the lives, deli- "neations of the characters, and strictures of "the several authors, they are far from being 66 always to be depended on." He adds, “The characters are sometimes partial, and "there is sometimes TOO MUCH MALIGNITY "of misrepresentation, to which, perhaps, may be joined no inconsiderable portion of erroneous criticism." The several clauses of this censure deserve to be answered as fully as the limits of this essay will permit. 66 66 In the first place, the facts are related upon the best intelligence, and the best vouchers that could be gleaned, after a great lapse of time. Probability was to be inferred from such materials as could be procured, and no man better understood the nature of historical evidence than Dr. Johnson; no man was more religiously an observer of truth. If his History is any where defective, it must be im- puted to the want of better information, and the errours of uncertain tradition. Ad nos vix tenuis famæ prelabitur aura. If GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 177 If the strictures on the works of the various authors are not always satisfactory, and if erroneous criticism may sometimes be sus- pected, who can hope that in matters of taste all shall agree? The instances in which the . public mind has differed from the positions. advanced by the author, are few in number. It has been said, that justice has not been done to Swift; that Gay and Prior are under- valued; and that Gray has been harshly treated. This charge, perhaps, ought not to be disputed. Johnson, it is well known, had conceived a prejudice against Swift. His friends trembled for him when he was writing that life, but were pleased, at last, to see it executed with temper and moderation. As to Prior, it is probable that he gave his real opinion, but an opinion that will not be adopted by mcn of lively fancy. With regard to Gray, when he condemns the apostrophe, in which Father Thames is desired to tell who drives the hoop, or tosses the ball, and then adds, that Father Thames had no better means of knowing than himself; when he compares the abrupt beginning of the first stanza of the bard to the ballad of JOHNNY ARMSTRONG, "Is there ever a man in all VOL. I. Scotland; N 178 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND "Scotland;" there are, perhaps, few friends of Johnson, who would not wish to blot out both the passages. It may be questioned whether the remarks on Pope's Essay on Man can be received without great caution. It has been already mentioned, that Crousaz, a professor in Switzerland, eminent for his Treatise of Logic, started up a professed enemy to that poem. Johnson says, "his "mind was one of those, in which philosophy "and piety are happily united. He looked "with distrust upon all metaphysical systems "of theology, and was persuaded, that the positions of Pope were intended to draw "mankind away from Revelation, and to represent the whole course of things as a <6 necessary concatenation of indissoluble fa- tality." This is not the place for a con- troversy about the Leibnitzian system. War- burton, with all the powers of his large and comprehensive mind, published a Vindication of Pope; and yet Johnson says, that "in many passages a religious eye may easily "discover expressions not very favourable to morals, or to liberty." This sentence is severe, and, perhaps, dogmatical. Crousaz wrote an Examen of THE ESSAY ON MAN, 66 46. & 66 66 and GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 179 and afterwards a Commentary on every re- markable passage; and though it now appears that Mrs. Elizabeth Carter translated the foreign Critic, yet it is certain that Johnson encouraged the work, and, perhaps, imbibed those early prejudices which adhered to him to the end of his life. He shuddered at the idea of irreligion. Hence we are told in the Life of Pope, "Never were penury of know- 66 ledge and vulgarity of sentiment so happily "disguised; Pope, in the chair of wisdom, "tells much that every man knows, and much "that he did not know himself; and gives us "comfort in the position, that though man's a fool, yet God is wise; that human ad- (6 CC vantages are unstable; that our true honour "is, not to have a great part, but to act it "well; that virtue only is our own, and that happiness is always in our power. The <6 66 66 reader, when he meets all this in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his "mother and his nurse." But may it not be said, that every system of ethics must or ought to terminate in plain and general maxims for the use of life? and, though in such axioms no discovery is made, does not the beauty of the moral theory consist in the premises, and N 2 the 180 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND the chain of reasoning that leads to the con- clusion? May not truth, as Johnson himself says, be conveyed to the mind by a new train of intermediate images? Pope's doctrine about the ruling passion does not seem to be refuted, though it is called, in harsh terms, pernicious as well as false, tending to establish a kind of moral predestination, or over-ruling principle, which cannot be resisted. But Johnson was too easily alarmed in the cause of religion. Organized as the human race is, individuals have different inlets of perception, different powers of mind, and different sensations of pleasure and pain. All spread their charms, but charm not all alike, On different senses different objects strike: Hence different passions more or less inflame, As strong or weak the organs of the frame. And hence one master-passion in the breast, Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. Brumoy says, Pascal from his infancy felt himself a geometrician; and Vandyke, in like manner, was a painter. Shakspeare, who of all poets had the deepest insight into human nature, was aware of a prevailing bias in the operations 24 GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 181 operations of every mind. By him we are told, "Masterless passion sways us to the mood of what it likes or loaths.” 66 It remains to enquire, whether in the lives before us the characters are partial, and too often drawn with malignity of misrepresenta- tion. To prove this it is alleged, that Johnson has misrepresented the circumstances relative to the translation of the first Iliad, and mali- ciously ascribed that performance to Addison, instead of Tickell, with too much reliance on the testimony of Pope, taken from the account in the papers left by Mr. Spence. For a re- futation of the fallacy imputed to Addison, we are referred to a note in the Biographia Britannica, written by the late Judge Black- stone, who, it is said, examined the whole matter with accuracy, and found that the first regular statement of the accusation against Addison was published by Ruffhead, in his Life of Pope, from the materials which he received from Dr. Warburton. But, with all due deference to the learned Judge, whose talents deserve all praise, this account is by no means accurate. N 3 Sir 17 182 1 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND Sir Richard Steele, in a dedication of the Comedy of the Drummer to Mr. Congreve, gave the first insight into that business. He says, in a style of anger anger and resentment, "If "that gentleman (Mr. Tickell) thinks him- "self injured, I will allow I have wronged "him upon this issue, that (if the reputed "translator of the first book of Homer shall please to give us another book) there shall 66 66 appear another good judge in poetry, be- "sides Mr. Alexander Pope, who shall like "it." The authority of Steele outweighs all opinions founded on vain conjecture, and, in- deed, seems to be decisive, since we do not find that Tickell, though warmly pressed, thought proper to vindicate himself. To But the grand proof of Johnson's malig- nity is the manner in which he has treated the character and conduct of Milton. enforce this charge has wearied sophistry, and exhausted the invention of a party. What they cannot deny, they palliate; what they cannot prove, they say is probable. But why all GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 183 all this rage against Dr. Johnson? Addison, before him, had said of Milton: Oh! had the Poet ne'er prophan'd his pen, To varnish o'er the guilt of faithless men! And had not Johnson an equal right to avow his sentiments! Do his enemies claim a pri- vilege to abuse whatever is valuable to English- men, either in Church or State? and must the liberty of UNLICENSED PRINTING be denied to the friends of the British con- stitution? It is unnecessary to pursue the argument through all its artifices, since, dismantled of ornament and seducing language, the plain truth may be stated in a narrow compass. Johnson knew that Milton was a republican; he says, 66 an acrimonious and surly republi- can, for which it is not known that he gave any better reason, than that a popular go- "vernment was the most frugal; for, the 66 66 66 46 trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary commonwealth." Johnson knew that Milton talked aloud" of the danger of "RE-ADMITTING KINGSHIP in this nation;" N 4 and 184 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND and when Milton adds, " that a common- "wealth was commended, or rather ENJOIN- 66 19 ED, by our Saviour himself, to all Christians, "not without a remarkable disallowance, and "the brand of Gentilism UPON KINGSHIP, Johnson thought him no better than a wild enthusiast. He knew as well as Milton, " that "the happiness of a nation must needs be "firmest and certainest in a full and free "council of their own electing, where no single 66 person, but reason only, sways;" but the example of all the republics, recorded in the annals of mankind, gave him no room to hope that REASON only would be heard. He knew that the republican form of govern- ment, having little or no complication, and no consonance of parts by a nice mechanism forming a regular whole, was too simple to be beautiful even in theory. In practice it, perhaps, never existed. In its most flourish- ing state, at Athens, Rome, and Carthage, it was a constant scene of tumult and com- motion. From the mischiefs of a wild de- mocracy, the progress has ever been to the dominion of an aristocracy; and the word aristocracy fatally includes the boldest and most turbulent citizens, who rise by their crimes, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 185 crimes, and call themselves the best men in the state. By intrigue, by cabal, and faction, a pernicious oligarchy is sure to succeed, and end at last in the tyranny of a single ruler. Tacitus, the great master of political wisdom, saw, under the mixed authority of king, nobles, and people, a better form of govern- ment, than Milton's boasted republic; and what Tacitus admired in theory, but despair- ed of enjoying, Johnson saw established in this country. He knew that it had been over- turned by the rage of frantic men; but he knew that, after the iron rod of Cromwell's usurpation, the constitution was once more restored to its first principles. Monarchy was established, and this country was regenerated. It was regenerated a second time at the Re- volution: the rights of men were then defined, and the blessings of good order and civil liberty have been ever since diffused through the whole community. The peace and happiness of society were what Dr. Johnson had at heart. He knew that Milton called his defence of the Regi- cides a defence of the people of England, but, however glossed and varnished, he thought it 186 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND it an apology for murder. Had the men, who under a show of liberty, brought their king to the scaffold, proved by their subsequent conduct, that the public good inspired their actions, the end might have given some sanction to the means; but usurpation and slavery followed. Milton undertook the office of secretary under the despotic power of Cromwell, offering the incense of adulation to his master, with the titles of Director of public Councils, the Leader of unconquered Armies, the Father of his Country. Milton declared, at the same time, that nothing is more pleasing to God, or more agreeable to reason, than that the highest mind should have the sovereign power. In this strain of servile flattery Milton gives us the right divine of tyrants. But it scems, in the same piece, he exhorts Cromwell 66 66 not to desert those great principles of li- berty which he had professed to espouse; "for, it would be a grievous enormity, if, "after having successfully opposed tyranny, "he should himself act the part of a tyrant, "and betray the cause that he had de- "fended." This desertion of every honest. principle the advocate for liberty lived to see. Cromwell acted the tyrant; and, with vile hypocrisy, GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 187 hypocrisy, told the people, that he had con- sulted the Lord, and the Lord would have it so. Milton took an under part in the tragedy. Did that become the defender of the people of England? Brutus saw his country en- slaved; he struck the blow for freedom, and he died with honour in the cause. Had he lived to be a secretary under Tiberius, what would now be said of his memory? But still, it seems, the prostitution with which Milton is charged, since it cannot be defended, is to be retorted on the character of Johnson. For this purpose a book has been published, called Remarks on Dr. Johnson's Life of Milton; to which are added Milton's Tractate of Education, and Areopagitica. In this laboured tract we are told, "one performance ascribed to the pen of the Doctor, where the prostitution is of so sin- 66 "There is gular a nature, that it would be difficult to "select an adequate motive for it out of the "mountainous heap of conjectural causes of "human passions or human caprice. It is "the speech of the late unhappy Dr. William “Dodd, when he was about to hear the sen- "tence of the law pronounced upon him, in “conse- 188 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND 66 consequence of an indictment for forgery. "The voice of the Public has given the "honour of manufacturing this speech to “Dr. Johnson; and the style and configura- "tion of the speech itself confirm the imputa- "tion. But it is hardly possible to divine "what could be his motive for accepting the "office. A man, to express the precise state "of mind of another, about to be destined to 66 an ignominious death for a capital crime, “should, one would imagine, have some con- "sciousness that he himself had incurred 66 some guilt of the same kind." In all the schools of sophistry is there to be found so vile an argument? In the purlieus of Grub- street is there such another mouthful of dirt? in the whole quiver of Malice is there so en- venomed a shaft? After this it is to be hoped, that a certain class of men will talk no more of Johnson's malignity. The last apology for Milton is, that he acted according to his principles. But Johnson thought those principles detestable; pernicious to the constitution in Church and State, destructive of the peace of society, and hostile to the great fabric of civil policy, which the GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 189 the wisdom of ages has taught every Briton to revere, to love, and cherish. He reckoned Milton in that class of men, whom the Roman historian says, when they want, by a sudden convulsion, to overturn the government, they roar and clamour for liberty; if they succeed, they destroy liberty itself. Ut imperium ever- tant, Libertatem præferunt; si perverterint, libertatem ipsam aggredientur. Such were may the sentiments of Dr. Johnson; and it be asked, in the language of Bolingbroke, "Are these sentiments, which any man, who "is born a Briton, in any circumstances, "in any situation, ought to be ashamed or "afraid to avow?" Johnson has done ample justice to Milton's poetry: the Criticism on Paradise Lost is a sublime composition. Had he thought the author as good and pious a citizen as Dr. Watts, he would have been ready, notwithstanding his non-conformity, to do equal honour to the memory of the man. It is now time to close this Essay, which the author fears has been drawn too much into length. In the progress of the work, feeble as it may be, he thought himself perform- ing the last human office to the memory of 190 AN ESSAY ON THE LIFE AND of a friend, whom he loved, esteemed, and honoured. His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani Munere. The author of these Memoirs has been anxious to give the features of the man, and the true character of the author. He has not suffered the hand of partiality to colour his excellences with too much warmth; nor has he endeavoured to throw his singularities too much into the shade. Dr. Johnson's failings may well be forgiven for the sake of his virtues. His defects were spots in the sun. His piety, his kind affections, and the goodness of his heart, present an example worthy of imitation. His works still remain a monument of genius and of learning. Had he written nothing but what is contained in this edition, the quantity shews a life spent in study and me- ditation. If to this we add the labour of his Dictionary and other various productions, it may be fairly allowed, as he used to say of himself, that he has written his share. In the volumes here presented to the Public, the reader will find a perpetual source of pleasure GENIUS OF DR. JOHNSON. 191 pleasure and instruction. With due precau- tions authors may learn to grace their style with elegance, harmony, and precision; they may be taught to think with vigour and perspicuity; and, to crown the whole, by a diligent attention to these books all advance in virtue. may 1 1 1 ( 193 ) VOL. I. } POEM S. 1 C t 1 ( 195 ) LONDON: a POEM: IN IMITATION OF THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL. Written in 1738. -Quis ineptæ Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se ? Juv. 'THO' grief and fondness in my breast rebel, When injur'd THALES * bids the town farewel, Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, I praise the hermit, but regret the friend, Resolv'd at length, from vice and LONDON far To breathe in distant fields a purer air, And, JUV. SAT. III. 'Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici; Laudo, tamen, vacuis quod sedem figere Cumis. Destinet, atque unum civem donare Sibyllæ. * Sir John Hawkins says, that by Thales we are here to understand Savage: Mr. Boswell asserts that this is entirely groundless, and adds, "I have been assured that Dr. Johnson said, he was not so much as acquainted with Savage when he wrote his LONDON." This, added to the circumstance of the date (for Savage did not set out for Wales till July 1739) might be decisive, if unfor. tunately for Mr. Boswell he had not a few pages after, given us some highly complimentary lines, which, "he was assured were written by Dr. Johnson." Ad Ricardam Savage, in April 1738, about a month before LONDON was pub- lished. This surely implies previous acquaintance with Savage, for Dr. John- son would not have praised a stranger in such terms, and gives a very strong probability to Sir John Hawkins's conjecture. That Savage did not set out for Wales until the following year, is a matter of little consequence, as the in- tention of such a journey would justify the lines alluding to it. Sce Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. i. p. 100 and p. 139. 8vo. edit. 1804. 0 2 C. 196 LONDON: And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore, Give to St. David one true Briton more. * For who would leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land, Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand? There none are swept by sudden fate away, But all, whom hunger spares, with age decay: Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire; And now a rabble rages, now a fire; Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, And here the fell attorney prowls for prey; Here falling houses thunder on your head, And here a female Atheist talks you dead. 3 While THALES waits the wherry that contains Of dissipated wealth the small remains, On Thames's banks, in silent thought we stood Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood ; Struck with the seat that gave ELIZA* birth, We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth; In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew, And call Britannia's glories back to view; Behold her cross triumphant on the main, The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain, Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd, Or English honour grew a standing jest. A transient 2-Ego vel Prochytam præpono Suburræ, Nam quid tam miserum, tam folum vidimus ut non Deterius credas horrere incendia, lapsus Tectorum assiduos, & mille pericula sæva Urbis, & Augusto recitantes mense poetas? 3 Sed, dum tota domus rhedà componitur unâ, Substitit ad veteres arcus.— * Queen Elizabeth, born at Greenwich. 1 197 A POEM. A transient calm the happy scenes bestow, And for a moment lull the sense of woe. At length awaking, with contemptuous frown, Indignant THALES eyes the neighb'ring town. + Since worth, he cries, in these degenerate days. Wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise; In those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain, Since unrewarded science toils in vain; Since hope but sooths to double my distress, And every moment leaves my little less; While yet my steady steps no' staff sustains, And life still vig'rous revels in my veins ; Grant me, kind Heaven, to find some happier place, Where honesty and sense are no disgrace; Some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play, Some peaceful vale with Nature's paintings gay; Where once the harass'd Briton found repose, And safe in poverty defy'd his foes; Some secret cell, ye Pow'rs, indulgent give, 6 " Let live here, for - has learn'd to live. Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite To vote a patriot black, a courtier white; Explain * Hic tunc Umbritius: Quando artibus, inquit, honestis Nullus in urbe locus, nulla emolumenta laborum, Res hodie minor est, heri quam fuit, atque eadem cras Deteret exiguis aliquid: proponimus illuo Ire, fatigatas ubi Dædalus exuit alas ; Dum nova canities. 5 et pedibus me Porto meis, nullo dextram subeunte bacillo. 6 Cedamus patriâ: vivant Arturius istic Et Catullus: maneant qui nigra in candida vertunt. 03 198 LONDON: Explain their country's dear-bought rights away, And plead for * pirates in the face of day; With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth, And lend a lie the confidence of truth. 7 Let such raise palaces, and manors buy, Collect a tax, or farm a lottery; With warbling eunuchs fill our † silenc'd stage, And lull to servitude a thoughtless age. Heroes, proceed! what bounds your pride shall hold? What check restrain your thirst of pow'r and gold ? Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown, Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives, your own. To such, the plunder of a land is giv'n, When publick crimes inflame the wrath of Heaven: ⁹ But what, my friend, what hope remains for me, Who start at theft, and blush at perjury? Who scarce forbear, tho' BRITAIN'S court he sing, To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing; A statesman's logick unconvinc'd can hear, And dare to slumber o'er the Gazetteer ; Despise a fool in half his pension dress'd, And strive in vain to laugh at Clodio's jest. Others with softer smiles, and subtler art, Can sap the principles, or taint the heart; 7 Queis facile est ædem conducere, flumina, portus, Siccandam eluviem, portandum ad busta cadaver.- · Munera nunc edunt. 8 Quid Roma faciam? mentiri nescio: librum, Si malus est, nequeo laudare & poscere.- 9 Ferre ad nuptam quæ mittit adulter, Que mandat norint alii; me nemo ministro Fur erit, atque ideo nulli comes exeo. With *The invasions of the Spaniards were defended in the houses of parliament. + The licensing act was then lately made. The paper which at that time contained apologies for the court. A POEM. 100 With more address a lover's note convey, Or bribe a virgin's innocence away, Well may they rise, while I, whose rustick tongue Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong, Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy, Live unregarded, unlamented die. ΤΟ 10 For what but social guilt the friend endears? Who shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares. " But thou, should tempting villainy present All Marlb'rough hoarded, or all Villiers spent, Turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye, Nor sell for gold, what gold could never buy, The peaceful slumber, self-approving day, Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay. 12 The cheated nation's happy fav rites, see! Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me! LONDON! the needy villain's gen'ral home, The common-sewer of Paris and of Rome; With eager thirst, by folly or by fate, Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state. Forgive my transports on a theme like this, 13 I cannot bear a French metropolis. 10 Quis nunc diligitur nisi conscius ?- Carus erit Verri, qui Verrem tempore, quo vult, Accusare potest. II -Tanti tibi non sit opaci Illustrious Omnis arena Tagi, quodque in mare volvitur aurum, Ut somno careas.-- 12 Quæ nunc divitibus gens acceptissima nostris, Et quos præcipue fugiam, properabo fateri. 13➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖Non possum ferre, Quirites, Græcam urbem.- 0 4 200 LONDON: 14 Illustrious EDWARD! from the realms of day, The land of heroes and of saints survey; Nor hope the British lineaments to trace, The rustick grandeur, or the surly grace; But, lost in thoughtless ease and empty show, Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau; Sense, freedom, piety, refin'd away, Of France the mimick, and of Spain the prey. All that at home no more can beg or steal, Or like a gibbet better than a wheel ; Hiss'd from the stage, or hooted from the court, Their air, their dress, their politicks import; 15 Obsequious, artful, voluble, and gay, On Britain's fond credulity they prey. No gainful trade their industry can 'scape, 16 They sing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap: All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows, And bid him go to hell, to hell he goes. ¹7 Ah! what avails it, that, from slav'ry far, I drew the breath of life in English air; Was early taught a Briton's right to prize, And lisp the tale of HENRY's victories ; If the gull'd conqueror receives the chain, And flattery prevails when arms are vain? 14 Rusticus ille tuus sumit trechedipna, Quirine, Et ceromatico fert niceteria collo. 15 Ingenium velox, audacia perdita, sermo Promptus.- Studious 16 Augur schoenobates, medicus, magus: omnia novit, Græculus esuriens, in cœlum, jusseris, ibit. 17 Usque adeo nihil est, quod nostra infantia cœlum Hausit Aventini ? 1 A POEM. 201 18 Studious to please, and ready to submit, The supple Gaul was born a parasite : Still to his int'rest true, where'er he goes, Wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue bestows; In ev'ry face a thousand graces shine, From ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine. 19 These arts in vain our rugged natives try, Strain out with falt'ring diffidence a lie, And get a kick for aukward flattery. Besides, with justice, this discerning age Admires their wond'rous talents for the stage: 20 Well may they venture on the mimic's art, Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part; Practis'd their master's notions to embrace, Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face ; With ev'ry wild absurdity comply, And view each object with another's eye; To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear, To pour at will the counterfeited tear; And, as their patron hints the cold or heat, To shake in dog-days, in December sweat. How, when competitors like these contend, Can surely virtue hope to fix a friend? 21 18 Quid? quod adulandi gens prudentissima, laudat Sermonem indocti faciem deformis amici ? 19 Hæc eadem licet & nobis laudare: sed illis Creditur.- 20 Natio comoda est. Rides? majore cachinno Concutitur, &c. } Slaves 21 Non summus ergo pares: melior, qui semper & omni Nocte dieque potest alienum sumere vultum, A facie jactare manus: laudare paratus, Si bene ructavit, si rectum minxit amicus. 202 LONDON: Slaves that with serious inpudence beguile, And lie without a blush, without a smile; Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore, Your taste in snuff, your judgment in a whore; Can Balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear He gropes his breeches with a monarch's air. For arts like these preferr'd, admir'd, caress'd, They first invade your table, then your breast; Explore your secrets with insidious art, 12 Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart; Then soon your ill-plac'd confidence repay, Commence your lords, and govern or betray. 23 By numbers here from shame or censure free, All crimes are safe but hated poverty. This, only this, the rigid law pursues, This, only this, provokes the snarling Muse. The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke; With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. 24 Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd, Sure a most bitter is a scornful jest; Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart. 25 Has Heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore? 23 22 Scire volunt secreta domus, atque inde timeri. Materiam præbet causasque jocorum Omnibus hic idem? si fœda & scissa lacerna, &c. 24 Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, Quam quod ridiculos homines facit. 25 Agmine facto, Debuerant olim tenues migrasse Quirites. No : A POEM. 203 No secret island in the boundless main? No peaceful desert yet unclaim'd* by Spain? Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, And bear Oppression's insolence no more. This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd, 26 SLOW RISES WORTH, BY POVERTY DEPRESS'D But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold: Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, The groom retails the favours of his lord. But hark! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries Roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies: Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow`r, Some pompous palace, or some-blissful bow'r, Aghast you start, and scarce with aching sight Sustain th` approaching fire's tremendous light; Swift from pursuing horrors take your way, And leave your little ALL to flames a prey; 27 Then thro' the world a wretched vagrant roam, For where can starving merit find a home? In vain your mournful narrative disclose, While all neglect, and most insult your woes, 26 Haud facile emurgunt, quorum virtutibus obstat Res angusta domi, sed Romæ durior illis Conatus. Omnia Romæ Cum pretio. Cogimur, & cultis augere peculia servis. 27 Ultimus autem Ærumnæ cumulus, quod nudum & frustra rogantem Nemo cibo, nemo hospitio, tectoque juvabit. Should *The Spaniards at this time were said to make claim to some of our American provinces. 204 LONDON: 28 Should Heav'n's just bolts Orgilio's wealth confound, And spread his flaming palace on the ground, Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies, And public mournings pacify the skies; The laureat tribe in venal verse relate, How virtue wars with persecuting fate; 29 With well-feign'd gratitude the pensioned band Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. See! while he builds the gaudy vassals come, And crowd with sudden wealth the rising dome; The price of boroughs and of souls restore; And raise his treasures higher than before: Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great, The polish'd marble and the shining plate, 30 3° Orgilio sees the golden pile aspire, And hopes from angry Heav'n another fire. 31 Could'st thou resign the park and play content, For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent ; There might'st thou find some elegant retreat, Some hireling senator's deserted seat; And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land, For less than rent the dungeons of the Strand; 28 Si magna Afturici cecidit domus, horrida mater, Pullati proceres. 29 Jam accurrit, qui marmora donet, Conferat impensas: hic, &c. Hic modium argenti.- 32 Meliora, ac plura reponit Persicus orborum lautissimus. 31 Si potes avelli Circensibus, optima Soræ, Aut Fabrateriæ domus, aut Fusinone paratur, Quanti nunc tenebras unum conducis in annum. Hortulus hic. Vive bidentis amans & culti villicus horti, Unde epulum possis centum dare Pythagoræis, There A POEM. 205 , There prune thy walks, support thy drooping flowers, Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bowers; And, while thy grounds a cheap repast afford, Despise the dainties of a venal lord : There ev'ry bush with Nature's music rings, There ev'ry breeze bears health upon its wings; On all thy hours security shall smile, And bless thine evening walk and morning toil. 32 Prepare for death if here at night you roam, And sign your will before you sup from home. 33 Some fiery fop, with new commission vain, Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man ; Some frolick drunkard, reeling from a feast, Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest. 34 Yet ev❜n these heroes, mischievously gay, Lords of the street, and terrors of the way; Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine, Their prudent insults to the poor confine; Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach, And shun the shining train, and golden coach. 35 In vain, these dangers past, your doors you close, And hope the balmy blessings of repose ; Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, The midnight murd'rer bursts the faithless bar; Invades the sacred hour of silent rest, And leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast. 32 Possis ignavus haberi, Et subiti casus improvidus, ad cœnam si Intestatus eas.—— 33 Ebrius, ac petulans, qui nullum forte cedidit, Dat pœnas, noctem patitur lugentis amicum Peleida. 3 -Sed, quamvis improbus annis, Atque mero fervens, cavet hunc, quem coccina læna Vitari jubet, & comitum longissimus ordo, Multum præterea flammarum, atque ænea lampas. 35 Nec tamen hoc tantum metuas: nam qui spoliet to Non deerit; clausis domibus, &c. Scarce t 1 206 LONDON: A POEM. 36 Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, * Whose ways and means support the sinking land: Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring, To rig another convoy for the king t. 37 A single gaol, in ALFRED's golden reign, Could half the nation's criminals contain ; Fair justice, then, without constraint ador'd, Held high the steady scale, but sheath'd the sword; No spies were paid, no special juries known, Blest age! but ah! how diff'rent from our own! 38 Much could I add,—but see the boat at hand, The tide retiring calls me from the land : [spent, 39 Farewell!-When youth, and health, and fortune Thou fly'st for refuge to the Wilds of Kent; And, tir'd like me with follies and with crimes, In angry numbers warn'st succeeding times; Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his aid, Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian shade; In virtue's cause once more exert his rage, Thy satire point and animate thy page. 36 Maximus in vinclis ferri modus; ut timeas, ne Vomer deficiat, ne marræ & sarcula desint. 37 Felices proavorum atavos, felicia dicas Secula, quæ quondam sub regibus atque tribunis Viderunt una contentam carcere Romam. 38 His alias poteram, & pluries subnectere causas: Sed jumenta vocant. I 39 ——Ergo vale nostri memor : & quoties te Roma tuo refici properantem reddet Aquino, Me quoque ad Elvinam Cererem, vestramque Dianam Convelle à Cumis: satirarum ego, ne pudet illas, Adjutor gelidos veniam calligatus in agros. * A cant term in the House of Commons, for methods of raising money. + The nation was discontented at the visits made by the King to Hanover. f THE (207) THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES, IN IMITATION OF THE' TENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL. LET* Observation, with extensive view, Survey mankind from China to Peru; Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, And watch the busy scenes of crowded life; Then say how hope and fear, desire and hate, O'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate, Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride To chase the dreary paths without a guide, As treach'rous phantoms in the midst delude, Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good; How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice; How nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd, When Vengeance listens to the fool's request. Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, Each gift of nature and each grace of art; With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, With fatal sweetness elocution flows, Impeachment stops the speaker's pow'rful breath, And restless fire precipitates on death. Ver. 1-11. 1 But 208 THE VANITY OF * But, scarce observed, the knowing and the bold Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold; Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfin❜d, And crowds with crimes the records of mankind; For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws; Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys, The dangers gather as the treasures rise. Let Hist'ry tell where rival kings command, And dubious title shakes the madded land, 1 When statutes glean the refuse of the sword, How much more safe the vassal than the lord; Low sculks the hind beneath the rage of power, And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tower, Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, Tho' Confiscation's vultures hover round. The needy traveller, serene and gay, Walks the wild heath and sings his toil away. Does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding joy, Increase his riches, and his peace destroy, Now fears in dire vicissitude invade, The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade, Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, One shews the plunder, and one hides the thief. Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails, And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales; Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care, Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir. Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, * Ver. 12-22. † Ver. 23-27. * Ver. 28-55. See HUMAN WISHES. 209 See motley life in modern trappings dress'd, And feed with varied fools th' eternal jest: Thou who could'st laugh where want enchain'd ca- price, Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece; Where wealth unlov'd, without a mourner dy'd; And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride; Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate, Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state; Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws, And senates heard before they judg'd a cause; How would'st thou shake at Britain's modish tribe, Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe? Attentive truth and nature to descry, And pierce each scene with philosophick eye, To thee were solemn toys, or empty show, The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe : All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain. Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind, Renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind; How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare, Scarch ev'ry state, and canvass ev'ry pray`r. * Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's gate, Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great; Delusive Fortune hears th' incessant call, They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend, Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end. Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's door Pours in the morning worshipper no more; For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, To growing wealth the dedicator flies; VOL. I. • Ver. 56-107. P From 210 THE VANITY OF From ev'ry room descends the painted face, That hung the bright palladium of the place; And, smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions sold, To better features yields the frame of gold; For now no more we trace in ev'ry line Heroic worth, benevolence divine: The form distorted justifies the fall, And detestation rids th' indignant wall. But will not Britain hear the last appeal, Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal? Thro' Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings, Degrading nobles and controlling kings; Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats, And ask no questions but the price of votes ; With weekly libels and septennial ale, Their wish is full to riot and to rail. In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand : To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign, Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, His smile alone security bestows: Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r, Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r; Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please, And rights submitted left him none to scize. At length his sov'reign frowns-the train of state Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate. Where-e'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye, His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly; Now drops at once the pride of awful state, The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate, The HUMAN WISHES. 211 The regal palace, the luxurious board, The liv'ried army, and the menial lord. With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd, He seeks the refuge of monastick rest. Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings, And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine, Shall Wolsey's wealth, with Wolsey's end, be thine? Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? For, why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate, On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight? Why but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, With louder ruin to the gulfs below? *What gave great Villiers to the assassin's knife, And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life? What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde, By kings protected, and to kings ally'd? What but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine, And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign? † When first the college rolls receive his name, The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; Resistless burns the fever of renown, ļ Caught from the strong contagion of the gown: O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread, And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head. Are these thy views? Proceed, illustrious youth, And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth! † Ver. 114-132. * Ver. 108-113. There is a tradition, that the study of friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater than Bacon shall pass under it. To prevent so shocking an accident it was pulled down many years since. P 2 Yet, 212 THE VANITY OF Yet, should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat Till captive Science yields her last retreat; Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, And pour on misty Doubt resistless day; Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; Should Beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart; Should no disease thy torpid veins invade, Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade; Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee: Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, And pause awhile from Letters, to be wise; There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the gaol. See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Ilcar Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end * Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows, The glitt'ring eminence exempt from foes; See, when the vulgar 'scapes, despis'd or aw'd, Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud. From meaner minds, though smaller fines content The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent; Mark'd out by dang 'rous parts, he meets the shock, And fatal Learning leads him to the block: Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep, But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep. See Gent. Mag. vol. LXVIII. pp. 951. 1027. The HUMAN WISHES. 213 * The festal blazes, the triumphal show, The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompous tale, With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd, For such the steady Romans shook the world; For such in distant lands the Britons shine, And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine; This pow'r has praise, that virtue scarce can warm Till Fame supplies the universal charm. Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game, Where wasted nations raise a single name; And mortgag'd states their grandsires' wreaths regret, From age to age in everlasting debt; Wreaths which at last the dear-hought right convey, To rust on medals, or on stones decay. † On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide; A frame of adamnant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain; No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; Behold surrounding king, their pow'rs combine, And one capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; Think nothing gain'd," he cries, "till nought remain, "On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, "And all be mine beneath the polar sky." * Ver. 133-146. Ver. 147-167. P 3 The 214 THE VANITY OF The march begins in military state, And nations on his eye suspended wait; Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, And Winter barricades the realms of Frost; He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay;- Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day: The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, And shows his miseries in distant lands; Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale. *All times their scenes of pompous woes afford, From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord. In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, With half mankind embattled at his side, Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey, And starves exhausted regions in his way; Attendant Flattry counts his myriads o'er, Till counted myriads sooth his pride no more; Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind, The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind, New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still bestow'd, Till rude resistance lops the spreading god; Ver. 168-187. The HUMAN WISHES. 215 The daring Greeks deride the martial show, And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe; Th' insulted sea with humbler thought he gains, A single skiff to speed his flight remains; Th' encumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast Through purple billows and a floating host. The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour, Tries the dread summits of Cæsarean pow'r, With unexpected legions bursts away, And sees defenceless realms receive his sway; Short sway! fair Austria spreads her mournful charms, The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise; The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar, With all the sons of ravage crowd the war; The baffled prince, in honour's flatt'ring bloom Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom; His foes derision, and his subjects blame, And steals to death from anguish and from shame. * Enlarge my life with multitude of days! In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays : Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, That life protracted is protracted wo. Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, And shuts up all the passages of joy: In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r; With listless eyes the dotard views the store, He views, and wonders that they please no more; Ver. 188-288, P 4 Now 216 THE VANITY OF Now pall the tasteless meats, and joyless wines, And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain: No sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear, Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near; Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend, Nor sweeter musick of a virtuous friend; But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, Perversely grave, or positively wrong. The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest, While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear; The watchful guests still hint the last offence; The daughter's petulance, the son's expense, Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill, And mould his passions till they make his will, Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade, Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; But unextinguish'd Av'rice still remains, And dreaded losses aggravate his pains; He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime; An age that melts with unperceiv'd decay, And glides in modest innocence away ; Whose peaceful day Benevolence endears, Whose night congratulating Conscience cheers ; The HUMAN WISHES. 217 The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend: Such age there is, and who shall wish its end? Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings, To press the weary minutes' flagging wings New sorrow rises as the day returns, A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier, Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear; Year chases year, decay pursues decay, Still drops some joy from with ring life away; New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage, Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage, Till pitying Nature signs the last release, And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. But few there are whom hours like these await, Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate. From Lydia's monarch should the search descend, By Solon caution'd to regard his end, In life's last scene what prodigies surprise, Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise! From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires a driv'ler and a show. *The teeming mother, anxious for her race, Begs for each birth the fortune of a face; Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring; And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king. Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise; Whom joys with soft varieties invite, By day the frolick, and the dance by night; • Ver. 289-345. Who 213 THE VANITY OF Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, And ask the latest fashion of the heart; What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save, Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave? Against your fame with fondness hate combines, The rival batters, and the lover mines. With distant voice neglected Virtue calls, Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls; Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign, And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain. In crowd at once, where none the pass defend, The harmless freedom, and the private friend. The guardians yield, by force superiour ply'd : To Int❜rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride. Here Beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest. * Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find? Must. dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? Enquirer, cease; petitions yet remain Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem Religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice. Safe in his pow'r whose eyes discern afar The secret ambush of a specious pray'r; Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. • Ver. 346-366. Yet, HUMAN WISHES. 219 Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resign'd; For love, which scarce collective man can fill; For patience, sòv'reign o'er transmuted ill; For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat: These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain, These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain; With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find. PROLOGUE, ( 220 ) PROLOGUE, SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, At the Opening of the THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, WH 1747- HEN Learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakspeare rose; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new : Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil'd after him in vain. His pow'rful strokes presiding Truth impress'd, And unresisted Passion storm'd the breast. Then Jonson came, instructed from the school, To please in method, and invent by rule; His studious patience and laborious art, By regular approach assail'd the heart: Cold Approbation gave the ling'ring bays, For those, who durst not censure, scarce could praise. A mortal born, he met the gen'ral doom, But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb. The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame, Nor wish'd for Jonson's art, or Shakspeare's flame. Themselves they studied, as they felt they writ; Intrigue was plot, obscenity was wit. Vice always found a sympathetick friend; They pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend. Yet PROLOGUE, 1747. 221 Yet bards like these aspir'd to lasting praise, And proudly hop'd to pimp in future days. Their cause was gen'ral, their supports were strong, Their slaves were willing, and their reign was long: Till Shame regain'd the post that Sense betray'd, And Virtue call'd Oblivion to her aid. Then, crush'd by rules, and weaken'd as refin'd, For years the pow'r of Tragedy declin'd; From bard to bard the frigid caution crept, Till Declamation roar'd whilst Passion slept; Yet still did Virtue deign the stage to tread, Philosophy remain'd, though Nature fled. But forc'd, at length, her ancient reign to quit, She saw great Faustus lay the ghost of Wit; Exulting Folly hail'd the joyful day, And Pantomime and Song confirm'd her sway. But who the coming changes can presage, And mark the future periods of the Stage? Perhaps, if skill could distant times explore, New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in store; Perhaps where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet dy'd, On flying cars new sorcerers may ride: Perhaps (for who can guess th' effects of chance?) Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet * may dance. Hard is his lot that, here by Fortune plac'd, Must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste; With ev'ry meteor of caprice must play, And chase the new-blown bubbles of the day. * Hunt, a famous boxer on the stage; Mahomet, a rope- dancer, who had exhibited at Covent-Garden Theatre the winter before, said to be a Turk. Ah! $22 PROLOGUE, 1747. Ah! let not Censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the publick voice; The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live. Then prompt no more the follies you decry, As tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die; 'Tis Yours, this night, to bid the reign commence Of rescued Nature and reviving Sense; To chase the charms of Sound, the pomp of Show, For useful Mirth and salutary Wo; Bid scenic Virtue form the rising age, And Truth diffuse her radiance from the stage. (223) IRENE; A TRAGEDY. ! ་་ [ 225 ] YE PROLOGUE. E glitt'ring train, whom lace and velvet bless, Suspend the soft solicitudes of dress! From grov'ling bus'ness and superfluous care, Ye sons of Avarice, a moment spare! Vot'ries of Fame, and worshippers of Power, Dismiss the pleasing phantoms for an hour! Our daring bard, with spirit unconfin'd, Spreads wide the mighty moral for mankind. Learn here how Heav'n supports the virtuous mind, Daring, though calm; and vig'rous, though resign'd. Learn here what anguish racks the guilty breast, In pow'r dependent, in success deprest. Learn here that Peace from Innocence must flow; All else is empty sound and idle show. If truths like these with pleasing language join; Ennobled, yet unchang'd, if Nature shine; If no wild draught depart from Reason's rules, Nor gods his heroes, nor his lovers fools: Intriguing Wits! his artless plot forgive; And spare him, Beauties! though his lovers live. Be this at least his praise, be this his pride; To force applause no modern arts are try'd. Should partial cat-calls all his hopes confound, He bids no trumpet quell the fatal sound. Should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit, He rolls no thunders, o'er the drowsy pit. No snares to captivate the judgment spreads, Nor bribes your eyes to prejudice your heads. Unmov'd though Witlings sneer and Rivals rail; Studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail. He scorns the meek address, the suppliant strain, With merit needless, and without it vain. In Reason, Nature, Truth, he dares to trust: Ye Fops, be silent: and ye Wits, be just! VOL. I. Q PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. MEN. MAHOMET, Emperor of the Turks, Mr. BARRY. CALI BASSA, First Visier, Mr. BERRY. MUSTAPHA, A Turkish Aga, Mr. SOWDEN. ABDALLA, An Officer, Mr. HAVARD. HASAN, Mr. USHER. Turkish Captains, CARAZA, Mr. BURTON. DEMETRIUS,) Mr. GARRICK. Greek Noblemen, LEONTIUS, S Mr. BLAKES. MURZA, An Eunuch, Mr. KING. WOMEN. Mrs. CIBBEr. ASPASIA, Greek Ladies. IRENE, Mrs. PRITCHard. ATTENDANTS ON IRENE. [ 227 ] IRENE: A TRAGEDY. ACT I. SCENE I. DEMETRIUS and LEONTIUS, in Turkish Habits. LEONTIUS. AND is it thus Demetrius meets his friend, Hid in the mean disguise of Turkish robes, With servile secrecy to lurk in shades, And vent our suff'rings in clandestine groans? DEMETRIUS. Till breathless fury rested from destruction, These groans were fatal, these disguises vain; But now our Turkish conquerors have quench'd Their rage, and pall'd their appetite of murder; No more the glutted sabre thirsts for blood, And weary cruelty remits her tortures. LEONTIUS. Yet Greece enjoys no gleam of transient hope, No soothing interval of peaceful sorrow; The lust of gold succeeds the rage of conquest, The lust of gold, unfeeling and remorseless, Q.2 The 228 IRENE: The last corruption of degenerate man! Urg'd by th' imperious soldier's fierce command, The groaning Greeks break up their golden caverns Pregnant with stores that India's mines might envy, Th' accumulated wealth of toiling ages. DEMETRIUS. That wealth, too sacred for their country's use! That wealth, too pleasing to be lost for freedom! That wealth, which, granted to their weeping prince, Had rang'd embattled nations at our gates! But, thus reserv'd to lure the wolves of Turkey, Adds shame to grief, and infamy to ruin. Lamenting Av'rice now too iate discovers Her own neglected in the publick safety. LEONTIUS. Reproach not misery.-The sons of Greece, Ill-fated race! so oft besieg'd in vain, With false security beheld invasion. Why should they fear?-That Pow'r that kindly spreads The clouds, a signal of impending show'rs To warn the wand'ring linnet to the shade, Beheld without concern expiring Greece, And not one prodigy foretold our fate. DEMETRIUS. A thousand horrid prodigies foretold it. A feeble government, eluded laws, A factious populace, luxurious nobles, And all the maladies of sinking states. When publick Villany, too strong for justice, Shows his bold front, the harbinger of ruin, Can 1 A TRAGEDY. 229 Can brave Leontius call for airy wonders, Which cheats interpret, and which fools regard? When some neglected fabrick nods beneath The weight of years, and totters to the tempest, Must Heav'n dispatch the inessengers of light, Or wake the dead; to warn us of its fall? LEONTIUS. Well might the weakness of our empire sink Before such foes of more than human force; Some Pow'r invisible, from Heav'n or Hell, Conducts their armies, and asserts their cause. DEMETRIUS. And yet, my friend, what miracles were wrought Beyond the pow'r of constancy and courage! Did unresisted light'ning aid their cannon, Did roaring whirlwinds sweep us from the ramparts; 'Twas vice that shook our nerves, 'twas vice, Leontius, That froze our veins, and wither'd all our pow'rs. LEONTIUS. Whate'er our crimes, our woes demand compassion. Each night, protected by the friendly darkness, Quitting my close retreat, I range the city, And, weeping, kiss the venerable ruins: With silent pangs I view the tow'ring domes, Sacred to pray'r; and wander through the streets, Where commerce lavish'd uncxhausted plenty, And jollity maintain'd eternal revels.- DEMETRIUS. -How chang'd, alas !-Now ghastly Desolation In triumph sits upon our shatter'd spires; Q 3 Now 230 IRENE: Now superstition, ignorance, and errour, Usurp our temples, and profane our altars. LEONTIUS. From ev'ry palace bursts a mingled clamour, The dreadful dissonance of barb'rous triumph, Shrieks of affright and wailings of distress. Oft when the cries of violated beauty Arose to Heav'n, and pierc'd my bleeding breast, I felt thy pains, and trembled for Aspasia. DEMETRIUS. Aspasia ! spare that lov'd, that mournful name: Dear hapless maid-tempestuous grief o'erbears My reas'ning pow'rs-Dear, hapless, lost Aspasia ! Suspend the thought. LEONTIUS.. DEMETRIUS. All thought on her is madness; Yet let me think-I see the helpless maid, Behold the monsters gaze with savage rapture, Behold how lust and rapine struggle round her! LEONTIUS. Awake, Demetrius, from this dismal dream, Sink not beneath imaginary sorrows : Call to your aid your courage your courage and your wisdom; Think on the sudden change of human scenes ; Think on the various accidents of war; Think on the mighty power of awful virtue; Think on that Providence that guards the good, DEME- A TRAGEDY. 231 DEMETRIUS. O Providence! extend thy care to me, For Courage droops unequal to the combat, And weak Philosophy denies her succours. Sure some kind sabre in the heat of battle, Ere yet the foe found leisure to be cruel, Dismiss'd her to the sky, LEONTIUS. Some virgin-martyr, Perhaps, enamour'd of resembling virtue, With gentle hand restrain'd the streams of life, And snatch'd her timely from her country's fate. DEMETRIUS. From those bright regions of eternal day, Where now thou shin'st among thy fellow-saints, Array'd in purer light, look down on me : In pleasing visions and assuasive dreams, O! sooth my soul, and teach me how to lose thee. LEONTIUS. Enough of unavailing tears, Demetrius: I came obedient to thy friendly summons, And hop'd to share thy counsels, not thy sorrows: While thus we mourn the fortune of Aspasia, To what are we reserv'd? 1 DEMETRIUS. To what I know not: But hope, yet hope, to happiness and honour; If happiness can be without Aspasia. Q4 LEON- 232 IRENE: LEONTIUS. But whence this new-sprung hope? DEMETRIUS. From Cali Bassa, The chief, whose wisdom guides the Turkish counsels. He, iir'd of slavery, though the highest slave, Projects at once our freedom and his own; And bids us thus disguis'd await him here. LEONTIUS. Can he restore the state he could not save? In vain, when Turkey's troops assail'd our walls, His kind intelligence betray'd their measures; Their arms prevail'd, though Cali was our friend. DEMETRIUS. C When the tenth sun had set upon our sorrows, At midnight's private hour, a voice unknown Sounds in my sleeping ear, Awake, Demetrius, 'Awake, and follow me to better fortunes.' Surpris'd I start, and bless the happy dream; Then, rousing, know the fiery chief Abdalla, Whose quick impatience seiz'd my doubtful hand, Anú led me to the shore where Cali stood, Pensive and list'ning to the beating surge. There, in soft hints and in ambiguous phrase, With all the diffidence of long experience, That oft had practis'd fraud, and oft detected, The vet'ran courtier half reveal'd his project. By his command, equipp'd for speedy flight, Deep in a winding creek a galley lies, Mann'd with the bravest of our fellow-captives, Selected A TRAGEDY. 233 Selected by my care, a hardy band, That long to hail thee chief. LEONTIUS. But what avails So small a force? or why should Cali fly? Or how can Cali's flight restore our country? DEMETRIUS. Reserve these questions for a safer hour; Or hear himself, for see the Bassa comes. SCENE II. DEMETRIUS, LEONTIUS, CALI BASSA. CALI. Now summon all thy soul, illustrious Christian! Awake each faculty that sleeps within thee, The courtier's policy, the sage's firmness, The warriour's ardour, and the patriot's zeal : If, chasing past events with vain pursuit, Or wand'ring in the wilds of future being, A single thought now rove, recall it home. But can thy friend sustain the glorious cause, The cause of liberty, the cause of nations? DEMETRIUS. Observe him closely with a statesman's eye, Thou that hast long perus'd the draughts of Nature, And know'st the characters of vice and virtue, Left by the hand of Heav'n on human clay. CALI. His mien is lofty, his demeanour great ; Nor sprightly folly wantons in his air, 1 Nor 234 IRENE: Nor dull serenity becalms his eyes. Such had I trusted once as soon as seen, But cautious age suspects the flatt`ring form, And only credits what experience tells. Has silence press'd her seal upon his lips? Does adamantine faith invest his heart? Will he not bend beneath a tyrant's frown? Will he not melt before ambition's fire? Will he not soften in a friend's embrace? Or flow dissolving in a woman's tears? DEMETRIUS. Sooner the trembling leaves shall find a voice, And tell the secrets of their conscious walks; Sooner the breeze shall catch the flying sounds, And shock the tyrant with a tale of treason. Your slaughter'd multitudes, that swell the shore With monuments of death, proclaim his courage ; Virtue and liberty engross his soul, And leave no place for perfidy or fear. LEONTIUS. I scorn a trust unwillingly repos'd; Demetrius will not lead me to dishonour; Consult in private, call me when your scheme Is ripe for action, and demands the sword. [Going. Leontius, stay. DEMETRIUS, CALI. Forgive an old man's weakness, And share the deepest secrets of my soul, My wrongs, my fears, my motives, my designs.- When unsuccessful wars, and civil factions, Embroil'd A TRAGEDY. 235 Embroil'd the Turkish state, our Sultan's father, Great Amurath, at my request, forsook The cloister's ease, resum'd the tot'tring throne, And snatch'd the reins of abdicated pow'r From giddy Mahomet's unskilful hand. This fir'd the youthful king's ambitious breast: He murmurs vengeance at the name of Cali, And dooms my rash fidelity to ruin. DEMETRIUS. Unhappy lot of all that shine in courts, For forc'd compliance, or for zealous virtue, Still odious to the monarch or the people. CALI. Such are the woes when arbitrary pow'r, And lawless passion, hold the sword of justice. If there be any land, as fame reports, Where common laws restrain the prince and subject, A happy land, where circulating pow'r Flows through each member of th' embodied state; Sure, not unconscious of the mighty blessing, Her grateful sons shine bright with every virtue; Untainted with the lust of innovation, Sure all unite to hold her league of rule Unbroken as the sacred chain of nature, That links the jarring elements in peace. LEONTIUS. But say, great Bassa, why the Sultan's anger, Burning in vain, delays the stroke of death? CALI. Young, and unsettled in his father's kingdoms, Fierce as he was, he dreaded to destroy The 236 IRENE: The empire's darling and the soldier's boast; But now confirm'd, and swelling with his conquests, Secure he tramples my declining fame, Frowns unrestrain'd, and dooms me with his eyes. DEMETRIUS. What can reverse thy doom? CALI. The tyrant's death. DEMETRIUS. But Greece is still forgot. CALI. On Asia's coast, Which lately bless'd my gentle government, Soon as the Sultan's unexpected fate Fills all th' astonish'd empire with confusion, My policy shall raise an easy throne; The Turkish pow'rs from Europe shall retreat, And harass Greece no more with wasteful war. A galley mann'd with Greeks, thy charge, Leontius, Attends to waft us to repose and safety. DEMETRIUS. That vessel, if observ'd, alarms the court, And gives a thousand fatal questions birth: Why stor❜d for flight? and why prepar'd by Cali? CALI. This hour I'll beg, with unsuspecting face, Leave to perform my pilgrimage to Mecca; Which granted, hides my purpose from the world, And, though refus'd, conceals it from the Sultan. LEON- A TRAGEDY. 237 ! LEONTIUS. How can a single hand attempt a life Which armies guard, and citadels enclose? CALI. Forgetful of command, with captive beauties, Far from his troops, he toys his hours away. A roving soldier seiz'd in Sophia's temple A virgin shining with distinguish'd charms, And brought his beauteous plunder to the Sultan. DEMETRIUS. In Sophia's temple! What alarm!-Proceed. CALI. The Sultan gaz'd, he wonder'd, and he lov'd: In passion lost, he bade the conquʼring fair Renounce her faith, and be the Queen of Turkey. The pious maid, with modest indignation, Threw back the glitt'ring bribe. DEMETRIUS. Celestial goodness! It must, it must be she; her name? CALI. Aspasia. DEMETRIUS. soul! What hopes, what terrours, rush upon my O lead me quickly to the scene of fate; Break through the politician's tedious forms: Aspasia calls me, let me fly to save her. LEONTIUS. Did Mahomet reproach or praise her virtue? -- " CALI. 238 IRENE: CALI. His offers oft repeated, still refus'd, At length rekindled his accustom'd fury, And chang'd th' endearing smile and am'rous whisper To threats of torture, death, and violation. DEMETRIUS. These tedious narratives of frozen age Distract my soul; dispatch thy lingʼring tale; Say, did a voice from Heav'n restrain the tyrant? Did interposing angels guard her from him? CALI. Just in the moment of impending fate, Another plund'rer brought the bright Irene ; Of equal beauty, but of softer mien, Fear in her eye, submission on her tongue, Her mournful charms attracted his regards, Disarm'd his rage, and in repeated visits Gain'd all his heart; at length his eager love To her transferr'd the offer of a crown. LEONTIUS. Nor found again the bright temptation fail? CALI. Trembling to grant, nor daring to refuse, While Heav'n and Mahomet divide her fears, With coy caresses and with pleasing wiles She feeds his hopes, and sooths him to delay. For her, repose is banish'd from the night, And business from the day. In her apartments He lives LEONTIUS. And there must fall. CALI. A TRAGEDY. 239 Is hazardous. CALI. But yet LEONTIUS. th' attempt Forbear to speak of hazards; What has the wretch that has surviv'd his country, His friends, his liberty, to hazard? CALI. Life. DEMETRIUS. Th' inestimable privilege of breathing! Important hazard! What's that airy bubble, When weigh'd with Greece, with Virtue, with Aspasia? A floating atom, dust that falls unheeded Into the adverse scale, nor shakes the balance. CALI. At least this day be calm-If we succeed, Aspasia's thine, and all thy life is rapture.— See! Mustapha, the tyrant's minion, comes; Invest Leontius with his new command; And wait Abdalla's unsuspected visits : Remember Freedom, Glory, Greece, and Love. [Exeunt Demetrius and Leontius. SCENE III. CALI, MUSTAPHA. MUSTAPHA. By what enchantment does this lovely Greek Hold in her chains the captivated Sultan? He tires his fav'rites with Irene's praise, And 240 IRENE: And seeks the shades to muse upon Irene; Irene steals unheeded from his tongue, And mingles unperceiv'd with ev'ry thought. CALI. Why should the Sultan shun the joys of beauty, Or arm his breast against the force of love? Love, that with sweet vicissitude relieves The warriour's labours and the monarch's cares. But will she yet receive the faith of Mecca? MUSTAPHA. Those pow'rful tyrants of the female breast; Fear and Ambition, urge her to compliance; Dress'd in each charm of gay magnificence, Alluring grandeur courts her to his arms, Religion calls her from the wish'd embrace, Paints future joys, and points to distant glories. CALI. Soon will th' unequal contest be decided. Prospects, obscur'd by distance, faintly strike; Each pleasure brightens at its near approach, And ev'ry danger shocks with double horrour. MUSTAPHA. How shall I scorn the beautiful apostate! How will the bright Aspasia shine above her! CALI. Should she, for proselytes are always zealous, With pious warmth receive our Prophet's law- MUSTAPHA. Heav'n will contemn the mercenary fervour, Which love of greatness, not of truth, inflames. CALI. A TRAGEDY. 241 CALI. Cease, cease thy censures; for the Sultan comes Alone, with am'rous haste to seek his love. SCENE IV. MAHOMET, CALI BASSA, MUSTAPHA. CALI. Hail! terrour of the monarchs of the world, Unshaken be thy throne as earth's firm base, Live till the sun forgets to dart his beams, And weary planets loiter in their courses! MAHOMET. But, Cali, let Irene share thy prayers ; For what is length of days without Irene? I come from empty noise, and tasteless pomp, From crowds that hide a monarch from himself, To prove the sweets of privacy and friendship, And dwell upon the beauties of Irene. CALI. O may her beauties last unchang'd by time, As those that bless the mansions of the good! MAHOMET. Each realm, where beauty turns the graceful shape, Swells the fair breast or animates the glance, Adorns my palace with its brightest virgins; Yet, unacquainted with these soft emotions, I walk'd superiour through the blaze of charms, Prais'd without rapture, left without regret. Why rove I now, when absent from my fair, From solitude to crowds, from crowds to solitude, VOL. I. R Still 1 242 IRENE: Still restless, till I clasp the lovely maid, And ease my loaded soul upon her bosom? MUSTAPHA. Forgive, great Sultan, that intrusive duty Enquires the final doom of Menodorus, The Grecian counsellor. MAHOMET. Go see him die; His martial rhet'rick taught the Greeks resistance; Had they prevail'd, I ne'er had known Irene. [Exit Mustapha. SCENE V. MAHOMET, CALI. MAHOMET. Remote from tumult, in th' adjoining palace, Thy care shall guard this treasure of my soul; There let Aspasia, since my Fair entreats it, With converse chase the melancholy moments. Sure, chill'd with sixty winter camps, thy blood At sight of female charms will glow no more. CALI. These years, unconquer'd Mahomet, demand Desires more pure, and other cares than love. Long have I wish'd, before our prophet's tomb, To pour my pray'rs for thy successful reign, To quit the tumults of the noisy camp, And sink into the silent grave in peace. MAHOMET. What! think of peace while haughty Scanderbeg, Elate with conquest, in his native mountains, Prowls A TRAGEDY. 243 Prowls o'er the wealthy spoils of bleeding Turkey! While fair Hungaria's unexhausted valleys Pour forth their legions, and the roaring Danube Rolls half his floods unheard through shouting camps! Nor could'st thou more support a life of sloth Than Amurath-- CALI. Still full of Amurath ! MAHOMET. Than Amurath, accustom'd to command, Could bear his son upon the Turkish throne. CALI. This pilgrimage our lawgiver ordain'd- MAHOMET. [Aside. For those who could not please by nobler service.- Our warlike Prophet loves an active faith, The holy flame of enterprising virtue Mocks the dull vows of solitude and penance, And scorns the lazy hermit's cheap devotion. Shine thou, distinguish'd by superiour merit, With wonted zeal pursue the task of war, Till ev'ry nation reverence the Koran, And ev'ry suppliant lift his eyes to Mecca. CALI. This regal confidence, this pious ardour, Let prudence moderate, though not suppress. Is not each realm that smiles with kinder suns, Or boasts a happier soil, already thine? Extended empire, like expanded gold, Exchanges solid strength for feeble splendour. R 2 MAHQMET. 244 IRENE: MAHOMET. } Preach thy dull politicks to vulgar kings, Thou know'st not yet thy master's future greatness, His vast designs, his plans of boundless pow'r. When ev'ry storm in my domain shall roar, When ev'ry wave shall beat a Turkish shore; Then, Cali, shall the toils of battle cease, "1 Thien dream of prayer, and pilgrimage, and peace [Exeunt. TE ACT II. SCENE I. ASPASIA, IRENE. IRENE. ASPASIA, yet pursue the sacred theme; Exhaust the stores of pious eloquence, And teach me to repel the Sultan's passion. Still at Aspasia's voice a sudden rapture Exalts my soul, and fortifies my heart. The glitt'ring vanities of empty greatness, The hopes and fears, the joys and pains of life, Dissolve in air, and vanish into nothing. ASPASIA. Let nobler hopes and juster fears succeed, And bar the passes of Irene's mind Against returning guilt. IRENE. When thou art absent, Death rises to my view, with all his terroùrs; : Then A TRAGEDY. 245 Then visions, horrid as a murd'rer's dreams, Chill my resolves, and blast my blooming virtue : Stern Torture shakes his bloody scourge before me, And Anguish gnashes on the fatal wheel. ASPASIA, Since fear predominates in ev'ry thought, And sways thy breast with absolute dominion, Think on th' insulting scorn, the conscious pangs, The future mis'ries that wait th' apostate; So shall Timidity assist thy reason, And Wisdom into virtue turn thy frailty. IRENE. Will not that Power that form'd the heart of woman, And wove the feeble texture of her nerves, Forgive those fears that shake the tender frame? ASPASIA. The weakness we lament, ourselves create; Instructed from our infant years to court, With counterfeited fears, the aid of man, We learn to shudder at the rustling breeze, Start at the light, and tremble in the dark; Till, affectation ripening to belief, And folly frighted at her own chimeras, Habitual cowardice usurps the soul. IRENE. Not all like thee can brave the shocks of fate. Thy soul, by nature great, enlarg'd by knowledge, Soars unencumber'd with our idle cares, And all Aspasia, but her beauty, 's mati. R 3 f ASPASIA. 246 IRENE: ASPASIA. Each generous sentiment is thine, Demetrius, Whose soul, perhaps, yet mindful of Aspasia, Now hovers o'er this melancholy shade, Well pleas'd to find thy precepts not forgotten. O! could the grave restore the pious hero, Soon would his art or valour set us free, And bear us far from servitude and crimes. He yet may live. IRENE. ASPASIA. Alas! delusive dream! Too well I know him; his immoderate courage, Th' impetuous sallies of excessive virtue, Too strong for love, have hurried him on death. SCENE II. ASPASIA, IRENE, CALI, ABDALLA. CALI to ABDALLA, as they advance. Behold our future Sultaness, Abdalla ;- Let artful flatt'ry now, to lull suspicion, Glide through Irene to the Sultan's ear. Would'st thou subdue th' obdurate cannibal To tender friendship, praise him to his mistress. [to IRENE.] Well may those eyes that view these heav'nly charms Reject the daughters of contending kings; For what are pompous titles, proud alliance, Empire or wealth, to excellence like thine? ABDALLA. A TRAGEDY. 247 ABDALLA. Receive th' impatient Sultan to thy arms; And may a long posterity of monarchs, The pride and terrour of succeeding days, Rise from the happy bed; and future queens Diffuse Irene's beauty through the world! IRENE. Can Mahomet's imperial hand descend To clasp a slave? or can a soul like mine, Unus'd to pow'r, and form'd for humbler scenes, Support the splendid miseries of greatness? CALI. No regal pageant deck'd with casual honours, Scorn'd by his subjects, trampled by his foes, No feeble tyrant of a petty state, Courts thee to shake on a dependant throne; Born to command, as thou to charm mankind, The Sultan from himself derives his greatness. Observe, bright maid, as his resistless voice Drives on the tempest of destructive war, How nation after nation falls before him. ABDALLA. At his dread name the distant mountains shake Their cloudy summits, and the sons of fierceness, That range uncivilized from rock to rock, Distrust th' eternal fortresses of Nature, And wish their gloomy caverns more obscure. ASPASIA. Forbear this lavish pomp of dreadful praise; The horrid images of war and slaughter Renew our sorrows, and awake our fears. R 4 ABDALLA. 248 IRENE: ļ ABDALLA. Cali, methinks yon waving trees afford لم A doubtful glimpse of our approaching friends Just as I mark'd them, they forsook the shore, And turn'd their hasty steps toward the garden. CALI. Conduct these queens, Abdalla, to the palace: Such heav'nly beauty, form'd for adoration, The pride of monarchs, the reward of conquest ! Such beauty must not shine to vulgar eyes. SCENE III. CALI, solus. How Heav'n, in scorn of human arrogance, Commits to trivial chance the fate of nations! While with incessant thought laborious man Extends his mighty schemes of wealth and pow'r, And tow'rs and triumphs in ideal greatness; Some accidental gust of opposition Blasts all the beauties of his new creation, O'erturns the fabrick of presumptuous reason, And whelms the swelling architect beneath it. Had not the breeze untwin'd the meeting boughs, And through the parted shade disclos'd the Greeks, Th' important hour had pass'd unheeded by, In all the sweet oblivion of delight, In all the fopperies of meeting lovers; In sighs and tears, in transports and embraces, In soft complaints, and idle protestations. SCENE A TRAGEDY. 249 SCENE IV. CALI, DEMETRIUS, LEONTIUS, CALI. Could omens fright the resolute and wise, Well might we fear impending disappointments. LEONTIUS: Your artful suit, your monarch's fierce denial, The cruel doom of hapless Menodorus.- DEMETRIUS. And your new charge, that dear, that heav'nly maid.- LEONTIUS. All this we know already from Abdalla. DEMETRIUS. Such slight defeats but animate the brave To stronger efforts and maturer counsels. CALI. My doom confirm'd establishes my purpose. Calmly he heard till Amurath's resumption Rose to his thought, and set his soul on fire: When from his lips the fatal name burst out, A sudden pause th' imperfect sense suspended, Like the dread stillness of condensing storms. DEMETRIUS. The loudest cries of Nature urge us forward; Despotick rage pursues the life of Cali; His groaning country claims Leontius' aid; And yet another voice, forgive me, Greece, The 250 IRENE: The pow'rful voice of Love inflames Demetrius, Each ling'ring hour alarms me for Aspasia. CALI. What passions reign among thy crew, Leontius? Does cheerless diffidence oppress their hearts? Or sprightly hope exalt their kindling spirits? Do they with pain repress the struggling shout, And listen eager to the rising wind? LEONTIUS. All there is hope, and gaiety, and courage, No cloudy doubts, or languishing delays; Ere I could range them on the crowded deck, At once an hundred voices thunder'd round me, And ev'ry voice was Liberty and Greece. DEMETRIUS. Swift let us rush upon the careless tyrant, Nor give him leisure for another crime, LEONTIUS. Then let us now resolve, nor idly waste Another hour in dull deliberation. CALI. But see, where, destin'd to protract our counsels, Comes Mustapha.-Your Turkish robes conceal you. Retire with speed, while I prepare to meet him With artificial smiles and seeming friendship. SCENE A TRAGEDY. 251 SCENE V. CALI, MUSTAPHA. CALI. I see the gloom that low'rs upon thy brow; These days of love and pleasure charm not thee; Too slow these gentle constellations roll; Thou long'st for stars that frown on human kind, And scatter discord from their baleful beams. MUSTAPHA. How blest art thou, still jocund and serene, Beneath the load of business, and of years! CALI. Sure, by some wond'rous sympathy of souls, My heart still beats responsive to the Sultan's; I share, by secret instinct, all his joys, And feel no sorrow while my sov'reign smiles. MUSTAPHA. The sultan comes, impatient for his love; Conduct her hither; let no rude intrusion Molest these private walks, or care invade These hours assign'd to Pleasure and Irene. SCENE VI. MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA. MAHOMET. Now, Mustapha, pursue thy tale of horrour. Has treason's dire infection reach'd my palace? Can 252 IRENE: Can Cali dare the stroke of heav'nly justice In the dark precincts of the gaping grave, And load with perjuries his parting soul? Was it for this, that, sick'ning in Epirus, My father call'd me to his couch of death, Join'd Cali's hand to mine, and falt'ring cry'd, Restrain the fervour of impetuous youth With venerable Cali's faithful counsels? Are these the counsels, this the faith of Cali? Were all our favours lavish'd on a villain? Confest? MUSTAPHA. Confest by dying Menodorus, In his last agonies the gasping coward, Amidst the tortures of the burning steel, Still fond of life, groan'd out the dreadful secret, Held forth this fatal scroll, then sunk to nothing. МАНОМЕТ, examining the paper. His correspondence with our foes of Greece! His hand! his seal! The secrets of my soul Conceal'd from all but him! All, all, conspire To banish doubt, and brand him for a villain! Our schemes for ever cross'd, our mines discover'd, Betray'd some traitor lurking near my bosom. Oft have I rag'd, when their wide-wasting cannon Lay pointed at our batt'ries yet unform'd, And broke the meditated lines of war. Detested Cali too, with artful wonder, Would shake his wily head, and closely whisper, Beware of Mustapha, beware of treason. 22 MUSTAPHA. A TRAGEDY. -253 MUSTAPHA. The faith of Mustapha disdains suspicion; "But yet, great Emperor, beware of treason; Th' insidious Bassa, fir'd by disappointment- MAHOMET. Shall feel the vengeance of an injur’d king. Go, seize him, load him with reproachful chains ; Before th' assembled troops proclaim his crimes; Then leave him stretch'd upon the ling ring rack, Amidst the camp to howl his life away. MUSTAPHA. Should we before the troops proclaim his crimes, I dread his arts of seeming innocence, His bland address, and sorcery of tongue; And, should he fall unheard by sudden justice, Th' adoring soldiers would revenge their idol. MAHOMET. Cali, this day, with hypocritick zeal, Implor'd my leave to visit Mecca's temple Struck with the wonder of a statesman's goodness, I rais'd his thoughts to more sublime devotion. Now let him go, pursu'd by silent wrath, Meet unexpected daggers in his way, And in some distant land obscurely die. MUSTAPHA. There will his boundless wealth, the spoil of Asia, Heap'd by your father's ill-plac'd bounties on him, Disperse rebellion through the Eastern world; R Bribe to his cause, and list beneath his banners, Arabia's 254 IRENE: Arabia's roving troops, the sons of swiftness, And arm the Persian heretick against thee; There shall he waste thy frontiers, check thy conquests, And, though at length subdu'd, elude thy vengeance. MAHOMET. Elude my vengeance! No-My troops shall range Th' eternal snows that freeze beyond Mæotis, And Africk's torrid sands, in search of Cali. Should the fierce North upon his frozen wings Bear him almost above the wand'ring clouds, And seat him in the Pleiads' golden chariots, Thence shall my fury drag him down to tortures; Wherever guilt can fly, revenge can follow. MUSTAPHA. Wilt thou dismiss the savage from the toils, Only to hunt him round the ravag'd world? MAHOMET. Suspend his sentence-Empire and Irene Claim my divided soul. This wretch, unworthy To mix with nobler cares, I'll throw aside For idle hours, and crush him at my leisure. MUSTAPHA. Let not th' unbounded greatness of his mind Betray my king to negligence of danger. Perhaps the clouds of dark conspiracy Now roll full fraught with thunder o'er your head. Twice since the morning rose I saw the Bassa, Like a fell adder swelling in a brake, Beneath the covert of this verdant arch ** In A TRAGEDY. 255 In private conference; beside him stood Two men unknown, the partners of his bosom ; I mark'd them well, and trac'd in either face The gloomy resolution, horrid greatness, And stern composure of despairing heroes; And, to confirm my thoughts, at sight of me, As blasted by my presence, they withdrew With all the speed of terrour and of guilt. MAHOMET. The strong emotions of my troubled soul Allow no pause for art or for contrivance ; And dark perplexity distracts my counsels. Do thou resolve: for see, Irene comes! At her approach each ruder gust of thought Sinks like the sighing of a tempest spent, And gales of softer passion fan my bosom. [Cali enters with Irene, and exit with Mustapha. SCENE VII. MAHOMET, IRENE. MAHOMET. Wilt thou descend, fair daughter of perfection, To hear my vows, and give mankind a queen ? Ah! cease, Irene, cease those flowing sorrows, That melt a heart impregnable till now, And turn thy thoughts henceforth to love and empire. How will the matchless beauties of Irene, Thus bright in tears, thus amiable in ruin, With all the graceful pride of greatness heighten'd, Amidst 256 IRENE: Amidst the blaze of jewels and of gold, Adorn a throne, and dignify dominion! IRENE. Why all this glare of splendid eloquence, To paint the pageantries of guilty state? Must I for these renounce the hope of Heav'n, Immortal crowns, and fulness of enjoyment? MAHOMET. Vain raptures all-For your inferiour natures, Form'd to delight, and happy by delighting, Heav'n has reserv'd no future paradise, But bids you rove the paths of bliss, secure Of total death, and careless of hereafter; While Heaven's high Minister, whose awful volume, Records each act, each thought of sov'reign man, Surveys your plays with inattentive glance, And leaves the lovely trifler unregarded. IRENE. Why then has Nature's vain munificence Profusely pour'd her bounties upon woman? Whence then those charms thy tongue has deign'd to flatter, That air resistless, and enchanting blush, Unless the beauteous fabrick was design'd A habitation for a fairer soul? MAHOMET. Too high, bright maid, thou rat'st exteriour grace: Not always do the fairest flowers diffuse The richest odours, nor the speckled shells 1 Conceal A TRAGEDY. 257 Conceal the gem; let female arrogance Observe the feather'd wand'rers of the sky; With purple varied and bedropp'd with gold, They prune the wing, and spread the glossy plumes, Ordain'd, like you, to flutter and to shine, And cheer the weary passenger with musick. IRENE. Mean as we are, this tyrant of the world Implores our smiles, and trembles at our feet. Whence flow the hopes and fears, despair and rapture, Whence all the bliss and agonies of love? MAHOMET. Why, when the balm of sleep descends on man, Do gay delusions, wand'ring o'er the brain, Sooth the delighted soul with empty bliss? To want give affluence? and to slav'ry freedom? Such are love's joys, the lenitives of life, A fancy'd treasure and a waking dream. IRENE. Then let me once, in honour of our sex, Assume the boastful arrogance of man. Th' attractive softness, and th' endearing smile, And pow'rful glance, 'tis granted are our own; Nor has impartial Nature's frugal hand Exhausted all her nobler gifts on you. Do not we share the comprehensive thought, Th' enlivening wit, the penetrating reason? Beats not the female breast with gen'rous passions, The thirst of empire, and the love of glory? VOL. I. S 258 IRENE: MAHOMET. Illustrious maid, new wonders fix me thine, Thy soul completes the triumphs of thy face. I thought (forgive, my Fair), the noblest aim, The strongest effort of a female soul, Was but to choose the graces of the day, To tune the tongue, to teach the eye to roll, Dispose the colours of the flowing robe, And add new roses to the faded cheek. Will it not charm a mind like thine exalted, To shine the goddess of applauding nations, To scatter happiness and plenty round thee, To bid the prostrate captive rise and live, To see new cities tow'r at thy command, And blasted kingdoms flourish at thy smile? IRENE. Charm'd with the thought of blessing human kind, Too calm I listen to the flatt'ring sounds. MAHOMET. O seize the pow'r to bless-Irene's, nod Shall break the fetters of the groaning Christian; Greece, in her lovely patroness secure, Shall mourn no more her plunder'd palaces. IRENE. Forbear-O do not urge me to my ruin! MAHOMET. To state and pow'r I court thee, not to ruin : Smile on my wishes, and command the globe. 1 * Security A TRAGEDY. 259 Security shail spread her shield before thee, And love infold thee with his downy wings. If greatness please thee, mount th' imperial seat; If pleasure charm thee, view this soft retreat; Here ev'ry warbler of the sky shall sing; Here ev'ry fragrance breathe of ev'ry spring: To deck these bow'rs each region shall combine, And e'en our Prophet's gardens envy thine: Empire and love shall share the blissful day, And varied life steal unperceiv'd away. ACT III. [Exeunt. SCENE I. CALI, ABDALLA. [CALI enters with a discontented Air; to him enters ABDALLA.] CALI. Is this the fierce conspirator Abdalla ? Is this the restless diligence of treason? Where hast thou linger'd while th' encumber'd hours Fly lab'ring with the fate of future nations, And hungry slaughter scents imperial blood? ABDALLA. Important cares detain'd me from your counsels. ; TA $ 2 260 IRENE: CALI. Some petty passion! some domestic trifle ! Some vain amusement of a vacant soul! A weeping wife, perhaps, or dying friend, Hung on your neck, and hinder'd your departure. Is this a time for softness or for sorrow? Unprofitable, peaceful, female. virtues! When eager vengeance shows a naked foe, And kind Ambition points the way to greatness. ABDALLA. Must then ambition's votaries infringe The laws of kindness, break the bonds of nature, And quit the names of brother, friend, and father? CALI. This sovreign passion, scornful of restraint, E'en from the birth affects supreme command, Swells in the breast, and with resistless force O'erbears each gentler motion of the mind. As when a deluge overspreads the plains, The wand'ring rivulet, and silver lake, Mix undistinguish'd in the gen'ral roar. ABDALLA. - Yet can Ambition in Abdalla's breast Claim but the second place: there mighty Love. Has fix'd his hopes, inquietudes, and fears, His glowing wishes, and his jealous pangs.. CALI: Love is indeed the privilege of youth; Yet on a day like this, when expectation Pants for the dread event-But let us reason-- A TRAGEDY. 261 ABDALLA. Hast thou grown old amidst the crowd of courts, And turn'd th' instructive page of human life, To cant, at last, of reason to a lover? Such ill-tim'd gravity, such serious folly, Might well befit the solitary student, Th' unpractis'd dervise, or sequester'd faquir. Know'st thou not yet, when Love invades the soul, That all her faculties receive his chains? That Reason gives her sceptre to his hand, Or only struggles to be more enslav'd ? Aspasia, who can look upon thy beauties? Who hear thee speak, and not abandon reason? Reason! the hoary dotard's dull directress, That loses all because she hazards nothing! Reason! the tim'rous pilot, that, to shun The rocks of life, for ever flies the port! CALI. But why this sudden warmth? ABDALLA. Because I love : Because my slighted passion burns in vain! Why roars the lioness distress'd by hunger? Why foams the swelling waye when tempests rise? Why shakes the ground when subterraneous fires Fierce through the bursting caverns rend their way? CALI. Not till this day thou sawst this fatal fair; Did ever passion make so swift a progress? Once more reflect, suppress this infant folly. $ 3 262 IRENE: ABDALLA. Gross fires, enkindled by a mortal hand, Spread by degrees, and dread th' oppressing stream; The subtler flames emitted from the sky Flash out at once, with strength above resistance. CALI. How did Aspasia welcome your address? Did you proclaim this unexpected conquest? with speaking eyes a lover's homage? Or pay ABDALLA. Confounded, aw'd, and lost in admiration, I gaz'd, I trembled; but I could not speak ; When e'en as love was breaking off from wonder, And tender accents quiver'd on my lips, She mark'd my sparkling eyes, and heaving breast, And, smiling, conscious of her charms, withdrew. [Enter Demetrius and Leontius. CALI. Now be some moments master of thyself; Nor let Demetrius know thee for a rival. Hence! or be calm-To disagree is ruin, SCENE II. CALI, DEMETRIUS, LEONTIUS, ABDALLA. DEMETRIUS. When will occasion smile upon our wishes, And give the tortures of suspense a period? Still must we linger in uncertain hope? Still A TRAGEDY. 263 Still languish in our chains, and dream of freedom, Like thirsty sailors gazing on the clouds, Till burning death shoots through their wither'd limbs? CALI. Deliverance is at hand; for Turkey's tyrant, Sunk in his pleasures, confident and gay, With all the hero's dull security, Trusts to my care his mistress and his life, And laughs and wantons in the jaws of death. LEONTIUS. So weak is man when destin'd to destruction!- The watchful slumber, and the crafty trust. CALI. At my command yon iron gates unfold; At my command the sentinels retire; With all the license of authority, Through bowing slaves, I range the private rooms, And of to-morrow's action fix the scene. DEMETRIUS. To-morrow's action! Can that hoary wisdom, Born down with years, still doat upon to-morrow! That fatal mistress of the young, the lazy, The coward, and the fool, condemn'd to lose An useless life in waiting for to-morrow, To gaze with longing eyes upon to-morrow, Till interposing death destroys the prospect! Strange! that this gen'ral fraud from day to day Should fill the world with wretches undetected. S 4 The 264 IRENE: The soldier, lab'ring through a winter's march, Still sees to-morrow drest in robes of triumph; Still to the lover's long-expecting arms To-morrow brings the visionary bride. But thou, too old to bear another cheat, Learn, that the present hour alone is man's. LEONTIUS. The present hour with open arms invites; Seize the kind fair, and press her to thy bosom. DEMETRIUS. Who knows, ere this important morrow rise, But fear or mutiny may taint the Greeks? Who knows, if Mahomet's awaking anger May spare the fatal bow-string till to-morrow? ABDALLA. Had our first Asian foes but known this ardour, We still had wander'd on Tartarian hills. Rouse, Cali; shall the sons of conquer'd Greece Lead us to danger, and abash their victors? This night with all her conscious stars be witness, Who merits most, Demetrius or Abdalla. DEMETRIUS. Who merits most!I knew not we were rivals. CALI, Young man, forbear-the heat of youth, no more- Well,-'tis decreed-This night shall fix our fate. Soon as the veil of ev'ning clouds the sky, With cautious secrecy, Leontius, steer Th’ap- 1 A TRAGEDY. 265 1 Th' appointed vessel to yon shaded bay, Form'd by this garden jutting on the deep; There, with your soldiers arm'd, and sails expanded, Await our coming, equally prepar'd For speedy flight, or obstinate defence. [Exit Leont, SCENE III. CALI, ABDALLA, DEMETRIUS, DEMETRIUS. Now pause, great Bassa, from the thoughts of blood, And kindly grant an ear to gentler sounds. If e'er thy youth has known the pangs of absence, Or felt th' impatience of obstructed love, Give me, before th' approaching hour of fate, Once to behold the charms of bright Aspasia, And draw new virtue from her heav'nly tongue. CALI. Let prudence, ere the suit be farther urg'd, Impartial weigh the pleasure with the danger, A little longer, and she's thine for ever. DEMETRIUS. Prudence and love conspire in this request, Lest, unacquainted with our bold attempt, Surprise o'erwhelm her, and retard our flight, CALI. What I can grant, you cannot ask in vain- DEMETRIUS. I go to wait thy call; this kind consent - Completes the gift of freedom and of life. [Erit Dem. 266 IRENE: SCENE IV. CALI, ABDALLA. ABDALLA. And this is my reward-to burn, to languish, To rave unheeded; while the happy Greek, The refuse of our swords, the dross of our conquest, Throws his fond arms about Aspasia's neck, Dwells on her lips, and sighs upon her breast, Is 't not enough he lives by our indulgence, But he must live to make his masters wretched? CALI. What claim hast thou to plead? ABDALLA. The claim of pow'r, Th' unquestion'd claim of conquerors and kings! CALI. Yet in the use of pow'r remember justice, ABDALLA. Can then th' assassin lift his treach'rous hand Against his king, and cry, remember justice? Justice demands the forfeit life of Cali; Justice demands that I reveal your crimes; Justice demands-but see th' approaching sultan ! Oppose my wishes, and-remember justice. CALI. Disorder sits upon thy face-retire. [Exit Abdalla, enter Mahomet. A TRAGEDY. 267 SCENE V. CALI, MAHOMET. CALI. Long be the Sultan bless'd with happy love! My zeal marks gladness dawning on thy cheek, With raptures such as fire the Pagan crowds, When, pale and anxious for their years to come, They see the sun surmount the dark eclipse, And hait unanimous their conqu'ring god. MAHOMET. My vows, 'tis true, she hears with less aversion She sighs, she blushes, but she still denies. CALI. With warmer courtship press the yielding fair; Call to your aid, with boundless promises, Each rebel wish, each traitor inclination, That raises tumults in the female breast, The love of pow'r, of pleasure, and of show. MAHOMET. ; These arts I try'd, and to inflame her more, By hateful business, hurried from her sight, I bade a hundred virgins wait around her, Sooth her with all the pleasures of command, Applaud her charms, and court her to be great. [Exit Mahomet. 268 IRENE: SCENE VI. CALI, solus. He's gone-Here rest, my soul, thy fainting wing, Here recollect thy dissipated pow'rs. Our distant int'rests, and our different passions, Now haste to mingle in one common centre, And fate lies crowded in a narrow space, Yet in that narrow space what dangers rise!- Far more I dread Abdalla's fiery folly, Than all the wisdom of the grave divan. Reason with reason fights on equal terms; The raging madman's unconnected schemes We cannot obviate, for we cannot guess. Deep in my breast be treasur'd this resolve, When Cali mounts the throne, Abdalla dies, Too fierce, too faithless, for neglect or trust. [Enter Irene with Attendants. SCENE VII. CALI, IRENE, ASPASIA, &c. CALI. Amidst the splendour of encircling beauty, Superiour majesty proclaims thee queen, And nature justifies our monarch's choice, IRENE. Reserve this homage for some other fair; Urge ine not on to glitt'ring guilt, nor pour In my weak ear th' intoxicating sounds. A TRAGEDY. 269 CALI. Make haste, bright maid, to rule the willing world; Aw'd by the rigour of the Sultan's justice, We court thy gentleness. ASPASIA. Can Cali's voice. Concur to press a hapless captive's ruin? CALI. Long would my zeal for Mahomet and thee Detain me here. But nations call upon me, And duty bids me choose a distant walk, Nor taint with care the privacies of love. SCENE VIII. IRENE ASPASIA, attendants. ASPASIA. : If yet this shining pomp, these sudden honours, Swell not thy soul beyond advice or friendship, Nor yet inspire the follies of a queen, Or tune thine ear to soothing adulation, Suspend awhile the privilege of pow'r To hear the voice of Truth; dismiss thy train, Shake off th' encumbrances of state a moment, And lay the tow'ring sultaness aside, [Irene signs to her attendants to retire. While I foretel thy fate; that office done, No more I boast th' ambitious name of friend, But sink among thy slaves without a murmur. 270 IRENE: IRENE. Did regal diadems invest my brow, Yet should my soul, still faithful to her choice, Esteem Aspasia's breast the noblest kingdom. ASPASIAN The soul, once tainted with so foul a crime, No more shall glow with friendship's hallow'd ardour: Those holy Beings, whose superiour care Guides erring mortals to the paths of virtue, Affrighted at impiety like thine, Resign their charge to baseness and to ruin. IRENE. Upbraid me not with fancied wickedness; I am not yet a queen or an apoștate. But should I sin beyond the hope of mercy, If, when religion prompts me to refuse, The dread of instant death restrains my tongue? ASPASIA. Reflect that life and death, affecting sounds! Are only varied modes of endless being; Reflect that life, like ev'ry other blessing, Derives its value from its use alone; Not for itself, but for a nobler end, Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. When inconsistent with a greater good, Reason commands to cast the less away; Thus life, with loss of wealth is well preserv'd, And virtue cheaply sav'd with loss of life. A TRAGEDY. 271 IRENE. If built on settled thought, this constancy Not idly flutters on a boastful tongue, Why, when destruction rag'd around our walls, Why fled this haughty heroine from the battle? Why then did not this warlike Amazon Mix in the war, and shine among the heroes? ASPASIA. Heav'n, when its hand pour'd softness on our limbs, Unfit for toil, and polish'd into weakness, Made passive fortitude the praise of woman : Our only arms are innocence and meekness. Not then with raving cries I fill'd the city; But, while Demetrius, dear lamented name! Pour'd storms of fire upon our fierce invaders, Implor'd th' Eternal Pow'r to shield my country, With silent sorrows, and with calm devotion. IRENE. O! did Irene shine the queen of Turkey, No more should Greece lament those pray'rs rejected; Again should golden splendour grace her cities, Again her prostrate palaces should rise, Again her temples sound with holy musick : No more should danger fright, or want distress. The smiling widows, and protected orphans. ASPASIA. Be virtuous ends pursu'd by virtuous means, Nor think th' intention sanctifies the deed: That maxim, publish'd in an impious age, Would loose the wild enthusiast to destroy, And 272 IRENE: And fix the fierce usurper's bloody title; Then Bigotry might send her slaves to war, And bid success become the test of truth: Unpitying massacre might waste the world, And persecution boast the call of Heaven. IRENE. Shall I not wish to cheer afflicted kings, And plan the happiness of mourning millions? ASPASIA. Dream not of pow'r thou never canst attain: When social laws first harmoniz'd the world, Superiour man possess'd the charge of rule, The scale of justice, and the sword of power, Nor left us aught but flattery and state. IRENE. To me my lover's fondness will restore Whate'er man's pride has ravish'd from our sex. ASPASIA. When soft security shall prompt the Sultan, Freed from the tumults of unsettled conquest, To fix his court, and regulate his pleasures, Soon shall the dire seraglio's horrid gates Close like th' eternal bars of death upon thee. Immur'd, and buried in perpetual sloth, That gloomy slumber of the stagnant soul, There shalt thou view from far the quiet cottage, And sigh for cheerful poverty in vain ; There wear the tedious hours of life away, Beneath each curse of unrelenting Heav'n, Despair and slav'ry, solitude and guilt. A TRAGEDY. 273 IRENE. There shall we find the yet untasted bliss Of grandeur and tranquillity combin❜d. ASPASIA. Tranquillity and guilt, disjoin'd by Heaven, Still stretch in vain their longing arms afar; Nor dare to pass th' insuperable bound. Ah! let me rather seek the convent's cell; There when my thoughts, at interval of pray'r, Descend to range these mansions of misfortune, Oft shall I dwell on our disastrous friendship, And shed the pitying tear for lost Irene. IRENE. Go, languish on in dull obscurity; Thy dazzled soul, with all its boasted greatness, Shrinks at th' o'erpow'ring gleams of regal state, Stoops from the blaze like a degenerate eagle, And flies for shelter to the shades of life. ASPASIA. On me should Providence, without a crime, The weighty charge of royalty confer ; Call me to civilize the Russian wilds, Or bid soft science polish Britain's heroes: Soon should'st thou see, how false thy weak reproach. My bosom feels, enkindled from the sky, The lambent flames of mild benevolence, Untouch'd by fierce Ambition's raging fires. Vol. I. T 274 IRENE: IRENE. Ambition is the stamp impress'd by Heav'n To mark the noblest minds; with active heat Inform'd, they mount the precipice of pow'r, Grasp at command, and tow'r in quest of empire; While vulgar souls compassionate their cares, Gaze at their height, and tremble at their danger. Thus meaner spirits with amazement mark The varying seasons, and revolving skies, And ask, what guilty Pow'r's rebellious hand Rolls with eternal toil the pond'rous orbs; While some archangel, nearer to perfection, In easy state presides o'er all their motions, Directs the planets with a careless nod, Conducts the sun, and regulates the spheres. ASPASIA. 1 Well may'st thou hide in labyrinths of sound The cause that shrinks from Reason's pow'rful voice. Stoop from thy flight, trace back th' entangled thought, And set the glitt'ring fallacy to view. Not pow'r I blame, but pow'r obtained by crime Angelick greatness is angelick virtue. Amidst the glare of courts, the shout of armies, Will not th' apostate feel the pangs of guilt, And wish, too late, for innocence and peace, Curst as the tyrant of th' infernal realms, With gloomy state and agonizing pomp? A TRAGEDY. 275 SCENE IX. IRENE, ASPASIA, MAID. MAID. A Turkish stranger, of majestick mien, Asks at the gate admission to Aspasia, Commission'd, as he says, by Cali Bassa. IRENE. Whoe'er thou art, or whatsoe'er thy message, [Aside. Thanks for this kind relief-With speed admit him. ASPASIA. He comes, perhaps, to separate us for ever; When I am gone, remember, O! remember, That none are great, or happy, but the virtuous. [Exit Irene; enter Demetrius. SCENE X. ASPASIA, DEMETRIUS. DEMETRIUS. 'Tis she-my hope, my happiness, my love! Aspasia ! do I once again behold thee? Still, still the same-unclouded by misfortune! Let my blest eyes for ever gaze ASPASIA. Demetrius ! ↑ 2 276 IRENE: DEMETRIUS. Why does the blood forsake thy lovely cheek? Why shoots this chilness through thy shaking nerves ? Why does thy soul retire into herself? Recline upon my breast thy sinking beauties: Revive-Revive to freedom and to love. ASPASIA. What well-known voice pronounc'd the grateful sounds Freedom and love? Alas! I'm all confusion, A sudden mist o'ercasts my darken'd soul; The present, past, and future swim before me, Lost in a wild perplexity of joy. DEMETRIUS. Such ecstacy of love, such pure affection, What worth can merit? or what faith reward? ASPASIA. A thousand thoughts, imperfect and distracted, Demand a voice, and struggle into birth; A thousand questions press upon my tongue, But all give way to rapture and Demetrius. DEMETRIUS. O say, bright Being, in this age of absence, What fears, what griefs, what dangers hast thou known? Say how the tyrant threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd! Say, how he threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd in vain! 20. Say, A TRAGEDY. 277 Say, how the hand of Violence was rais'd! Say, how thou call'dst in tears upon Demetrius! ASPASIA. Inform me rather how thy happy courage Stemm'd in the breach the deluge of destruction, And pass'd uninjur'd through the walks of death. Did savage anger and licentious conquest Behold the hero with Aspasia's eyes? And, thus protected in the gen'ral ruin, say, what guardian pow'r convey'd. thee hither. DEMETRIUS. Such strange events, such unexpected chances, Beyond my warmest hope, or wildest wishes, Concurr'd to give me to Aspasia's arms, I stand amaz'd, and ask, if yet I clasp thee. ASPASIA. Sure Heav'n (for wonders are not wrought in vain!) That joins us thus, will never part us more. SCENE XI. DEMETRIUS, ASPASIA, ABDALLA. ABDALLA. It parts you now-The hasty Sultan sign'd The laws unread, and flies to his Irene. DEMETRIUS. Fix'd and intent on his Irene's, charms, He envies none the converse of Aspasia. * T 3 278 IRENE; ABDALLA. Aspasia's absence will inflame suspicion; She cannot, must not, shall not, linger here; Prudence and Friendship bid me force her from you. DEMETRIUS. Force her! profane her with a touch, and die! ABDALLA. "Tis Greece, 'tis Freedom, calls Aspasia hence; Your careless love betrays your country's cause. DEMETRIUS. If we must part If we must part- ASPASIA. No! let us die together. DEMETRIUS. ABDALLA. Dispatch; th' increasing danger Will not adinit a lover's long farewell, The long-drawn intercourse of sighs and kisses. DEMETRIUS, Then-O my Fair, I cannot bid thee go. Receive her, and protect her, gracious Heav'n! Yet let me watch her dear departing steps, If Fate pursues me, let it find me here. Reproach not, Greece, a lover's fond delays, Nor think thy cause neglected while I gaze; New force, new courage, from each glance I gain, And find our passions not infus'd in vain. [Exeunt. A TRAGEDY. 279 1 ACT IV. SCENE I. DEMETRIUS, ASPASIA, enter as talking. ASPASIA ENOUGH-resistless Reason calms my soul- Approving Justice smiles upon your cause, And Nature's rights entreat th' asserting sword. Yet, when your hand is lifted to destroy, Think, but excuse a woman's needless caution,-- Purge well thy mind from every private passion, Drive intrest, love, and vengeance from thy thoughts, Fill all thy ardent breast with Greece and Virtue, Then strike secure, and Heaven assist the blow! DEMETRIUS, Thou kind assistant of my better angel, Propitious guide of my bewilder'd soul, Calm of iny cares, and guardian of my virtue! ASPASIA. My soul, first kindled by thy bright example To noble thought and gen'rous emulation, Now but reflects those beams that flow'd from thee. DEMETRIUS. With native lustre and unborrow'd greatness, Thou shins't, bright maid, superiour to distress; Unlike the trifling race of vulgar beauties, Those glitt'ring dew-drops of a vernal morn, Ꭲ 4 That 280 IRENE: That spread their colours to the genial beam, And sparkling quiver to the breath of May; But, when the tempest with sonorous wing Sweeps o'er the grove, forsake the lab'ring bough, Dispers'd in air, or mingled with the dust. ASPASIA. Forbear this triumph-still new conflicts wait us, Foes unforeseen, and dangers unsuspected. Oft when the fierce besieger's eager host Beholds the fainting garrison retire, And rushes joyful to the naked wall, Destruction flashes from th' insidious mine, And sweeps th' exulting conqueror away. Perhaps in vain the Sultan's anger spar'd me, To find a meaner fate from treach'rous friendship- Abdalla!- DEMETRIUS. Can Abdalla then dissemble! That fiery chief, renown'd for gen'rous freedom, For zeal unguarded, undissembled hate, For daring truth, and turbulence of honour! ASPASIA. This open friend, this undesigning hero, With noisy falsehoods forc'd me from your arms, To shock my virtue with a tale of love. DEMETRIUS. Did not the cause of Greece restrain my sword, Aspasia should not fear a second insult. ASPASIA. His pride and love by turns inspir'd his tongue, And A TRAGEDY. 281 And intermix'd my praises with his own; His wealth, his rank, his honours, he recounted, Till, in the midst of arrogance and fondness, Th' approaching Sultan forc'd me from the palace; Then, while he gaz'd upon his yielding mistress, I stole unheeded from their ravish'd eyes, And sought this happy grove in quest of thee. DEMETRIUS. Soon may the final stroke decide our fate, Lest baleful discord crush our infant scheme, And strangled freedom perish in the birth! ASPASIA. My bosom, harass'd with alternate passions, Now hopes, now fears- DEMETRIUS. Th' anxieties of love. ASPASIA. Think how the Sov'reign Arbiter of kingdoms Detests thy false associate's black designs, And frowns on perjury, revenge, and murder. Embark'd with treason on the seas of fate, When Heaven shall bid the swelling billows rage, And point vindictive lightnings at rebellion, Will not the patriot share the traitor's danger? Oh, could thy hand unaided free thy country, Nor mingled guilt pollute the sacred cause! DEMETRIUS. Permitted oft, though not inspir'd by Heaven, Successful treasons punish impious kings. 282 IRENE: ASPASIA. Nor end my terrorus with the Sultan's death; Far as futurity's untravell'd waste Lies open to conjecture's dubious ken, On ev'ry side confusion, rage, and death, Perhaps the phantoms of a woman's fear, Beset the treacherous way with fatal anıbush; Each Turkish bosom burns for thy destruction, Ambitious Cali dreads the statesinan's arts, And hot Abdalla hates the happy lover. DEMETRIUS. Capricious man! to good and ill inconstant, Too much to fear or trust is equal weakness. Sometimes the wretch, unaw'd by Heaven or Hell, With mad devotion idolizes honour. The Bassa, reeking with his master's murder, Perhaps may start at violated friendship. ASPASIA. How soon, alas! will int'rest, fear, or envy, O'erthrow such weak, such accidental, virtue, Nor built on faith, nor fortified by conscience? DEMETRIUS. When desp'rate ills demand a speedy cure, Distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly. ASPASIA. Yet think a moment, ere you court destruction : What hand, when death has snatch'd away Demetrius, Shall guard Aspasia from triumphant lust. A TRAGEDY. 283 DEMETRIUS. Dismiss these needless fears-a troop of Greeks, Well known, long try'd, expect us on the shore. Born on the surface of the smiling deep, Soon shalt thou scorn, in safety's arms repos'd, Abdalla's rage and Cali's stratagems. ASPASIA. Still, still, distrust sits heavy on my heart. Will e'er an happier hour revisit Greece? DEMETRIUS. Should Heav'n, yet unappeas'd, refuse its aid, Disperse our hopes, and frustrate our designs, Yet shall the conscience of the great attempt Diffuse a brightness o'er our future days; Nor will his country's groans reproach Demetrius. But how canst thou support the woes of exile? Canst thou forget hereditary splendours, To live obscure upon a foreign coast, Content with science, innocence, and love? ASPASIA. Nor wealth, nor titles, make Aspasia's bliss. O'erwhelm'd and lost amidst the publick ruins, Unmov'd I saw the glitt'ring trifles perish, And thought the petty dross beneath a sigh. Cheerful I follow to the rural cell; Love be my wealth, and my distinction virtue. DEMETRIUS. Submissive, and prepar'd for each event, Now let us wait the last award of Heav'n, Secure + 284 IRENE: Secure of happiness from flight or conquest, Nor fear the fair and learn'd can want protection. The mighty Tuscan courts the banish'd arts To kind Italia's hospitable shades ; There shall soft leisure wing th' excursive soul, And Peace propitious smile on fond desire; There shall despotic Eloquence resume Her ancient empire o'er the yielding heart; There Poetry shall tune her sacred voice, And wake from ignorance the Western world. SCENE II. DEMETRIUS, ASPASIA, CALI. CALI. At length th' unwilling sun resigns the world To silence and to rest. The hours of darkness, Propitious hours to stratagem and death, Pursue the last remains of ling'ring light. DEMETRIUS. Count not these hours as part of vulgar time, Think them a sacred treasure lent by Heaven, Which, squander'd by neglect, or fear, or folly, No prayer recalls, no diligence redeems. To-morrow's dawn shall see the Turkish king Stretch'd in the dust, or tow'ring on his throne; To-morrow's dawn shall see the mighty Cali The sport of tyranny, or lord of nations. CALI. Then waste no longer these important moments In soft endearments, and in gentle murmurs; Nor lose in love the patriot and the hero. A TRAGEDY. 285 DEMETRIUS. 'Tis love, combin'd with guilt alone, that melts The soften'd soul to cowardice and sloth; But virturous passion prompts the great resolve, And fans the slumbering spark of heavenly fire, Retire, my Fair; that Pow'r that smiles on goodness, Guide all thy steps, calm ev'ry stormy thought, And still thy bosom with the voice of peace! BASPASIA. Soon may we meet again, secure and free, To feel no more the pangs of separation! DEMETRIUS, CALI. [Exit. DEMETRIUS. This night alone is ours-Our mighty foe, No longer lost in am'rous solitude, Will now remount the slighted seat of empire, And show Irene to the shouting people : Aspasia left her sighing in his arms, And list'ning to the pleasing tale of pow'r; With soften'd voice she dropt the faint refusal, Smiling consent she sat, and blushing love. CALI. Now, tyrant, with satiety of beauty ❤ Now feast thine eyes, thine eyes that ne'er hereafter Shall dart their am'rous glances at the fair, Or glare on Cali with malignant beams. 286 IRENE: SCENE III. DEMETRIUS, CALI, LEONTIUS, ABDALLA. LEONTIUS. Our bark unseen has reach'd th' appointed bay, And where yon trees wave o'er the foaming surge Reclines against the shore: our Grecian troop Extends its lines along the sandy beach, Elate with hope, and panting for a foe. ABDALLA. The fav`ring winds assist the great design, Sport in our sails, and murmur o'er the deep. CALI. 'Tis well-A single blow completes our wishes; Return with speed, Leontius, to your charge; The Greeks, disorder'd by their leader's absence, May droop dismay'd, or kindle into madness. LEONTIUS. Suspected still!-What villain's pois'nous tongue Dare join Leontius' name with fear or falsehood? Have I for this preserv'd my guiltless bosom, Pure as the thoughts of infant innocence? Have I for this defy'd the chiefs of Turkey, Intrepid in the flaming front of war? A TRAGEDY. 287 CALI. Hast thou not search'd my soul's profoundest thoughts? Is not the fate of Greece and Cali thine? LEONTIUS. Why has thy choice then pointed out Leontius Unfit to share this night's illustrious toils? To wait remote from action, and from honour, An idle list'ner to the distant cries Of slaughter'd infidels, and clash of swords? Tell me the cause, that while thy name, Demetrius, Shall soar triumphant on the wings of Glory, Despis'd and curs'd, Leontius must descend Through hissing ages, a proverbial coward, The tale of women, and the scorn of fools? DEMETRIUS. Can brave Leontius be the slave of Glory? Glory, the casual gift of thoughtless crowds! Glory, the bribe of avaricious virtue! Be but my country free, be thine the praise; I ask no witness, but attesting conscience, No records, but the records of the sky. LEONTIUS. : Wilt thou then head the troop upon the shore, While I destroy the oppressor of mankind? DEMETRIUS. What canst thou boast superiour to Demetrius? Ask to whose sword the Greeks will trust their cause, My name shall echo through the shouting field: Demand whose force yon Turkish heroes dread, The shudd'ring camp shall murmur out Demetrius 288 IRENE: CALI. Must Greece, still wretched by her childrens folly, For ever mourn their avarice or factions? Demetrius justly pleads a double title; The lover's intrest aids the patriot's claim. LEONTIUS. My pride shall ne'er protract my country's woes; Succeed, my friend, unenvied by Leontius. DEMETRIUS. I feel new spirit shoot along my nerves, My soul expands to meet approaching freedom. Now hover o'er us with propitious wings, Ye sacred shades of patriots and of martyrs ! All ye, whose blood tyrannick rage effus'd, Or persecution drank, attend our call; And from the mansions of perpetual peace Descend, to sweeten labours once your own! CALI. Go, then, and with united eloquence. Confirm your troops; and when the moon's fair beam Plays on the quiv'ring waves, to guide our flight, Return, Demetrius, and be free for ever. [Exeunt Dem. and Leon. SCENE IV. CALI, ABDALLA. ABDALLA. How the new monarch, swell'd with airy rule, Looks down, contemptuous, from his fancy'd height, And utters fate, unmindful of Abdalla ! A TRAGEDY. 289 T CALI.. Far be such black ingratitude from Cali! When Asia's nations own me for their lord, Wealth, and command, and grandeur shall be thine. ABDALLA. Is this the recompense reserv'd for me? Dar'st thou thus dally with Abdalla's passion? Henceforward hope no more my slighted friendship, Wake from thy dream of power to death and tortures, And bid thy visionary throne farewell. CALI. Name, and enjoy thy wish- ABDALLA. I need not name it; Aspasia's lovers know but one desire, Nor hope, nor wish, nor live, but for Aspasia. CALI. That fatal beauty plighted to Demetrius Heaven makes not mine to give. ABDALLA. Nor to deny. CALL. Obtain her, and possess; thou know'st thy rival. ABDALIA: Too well I know him, since on Thracia's plains I felt the force of his tempestuous arm, And saw my scatter'd squadrons fly before him. VOL. I. U Nor 1 1 * 290 IRENE: Nor will I trust th' uncertain chance of combat; The rights of princes let the sword decide, The petty claims of empire and of honour: Revenge and subtle jealousy shall teach A surer passage to his hated heart. CALI. O spare the gallant Greek, in him we lose The politician's arts, and hero's flame. ABDALLA. When next we meet before we storm the palace, The bowl shall circle to confirm our league; Then shall these juices taint Demetrius' draught, [Shewing a phial. And stream destructive through his freezing veins : Thus shall he live to strike th' important blow, And perish ere he taste the joys of conquest. SCENE. V. MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, CALI, ABDALLA. MAHOMET. Henceforth for ever happy be this day, Sacred to love, to pleasure, and Irene! The matchless fair has bless'd me with compliance; Let every tongue resound Irene's praise, And spread the general transport through mankind. CALI. Blest prince, for whom indulgent Heav'n ordains At once the joys of paradise and empire, Now A TRAGEDY. 291 Now join thy people's and thy Cali's prayers; Suspend thy passage to the seats of bliss, Nor wish for Houries in Irene's arms. MAHOMET. + Forbear-I know the long-try'd faith of Cali. CALI. O! could the eyes of kings, like those of Heav'n, Search to the dark recesses of the soul, Oft would they find ingratitude and treason, By smiles, and oaths, and praises, ill disguis'd. How rarely would they meet, in crowded courts, Fidelity so firm, so pure, as mine. MUSTAPHA. Yet, ere we give our loosen'd thoughts to rapture, Let prudence obviate an impending danger: Tainted by sloth, the parent of sedition, The hungry Janizary burns for plunder, And growls in private o'er his idle sabre. MAHOMET. To still their murmurs, ere the twentieth sun Shall shed his beams upon the bridal bed, I rouse to war, and conquer for Irene. Then shall the Rhodian mourn Iris sinking tow'rs, And Buda fall, and proud Vienna tremble: Then shall Venetia feel the Turkish pow'r, And subject seas roar round their queen in vain. ABDALLA. Then seize fair Italy's delightful coast, To fix your standard in imperial Rome. U 2 292 IRENE: MAHOMET. Her sons malicious clemency shall spare, To form new legends, sanctify new crimes, To canonize the slaves of superstition, And fill the world with follies and impostures, Till angry Heav'n shall mark them out for ruin, And war o'erwhelm them in their dream of vice. O, could her fabled saints and boasted prayers Call forth her ancient heroes to the field, How should I joy, 'midst the fierce shock of nations, To cross the tow'rings of an equal soul, And bid the master genius rule the world! Abdalla, Cali, go-proclaim my purpose. [Exeunt Cali and Abdalla. SCENE VI. MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA. MAHOMET. Still Cali lives and must he live to-morrow? That fawning villain's forc'd congratulations Will cloud my triumphs, and pollute the day. MUSTAPHA. With cautious vigilance, at my command, Two faithful captains, Hasan and Caraza, Pursue him through his labyrinths of treason, And wait your summons to report his conduct. MAHOMET. Call them-but let them not prolong their tale, Nor press too much upon a lover's patience. [Exit Mustapha จ : A TRAGEDY. 293 SCENE VII. MAHOMET, Solus. Whome'er the hope, still blasted, still renew'd, Of happiness lures on from toil to toil, Remember Mahomet, and cease thy labour, Behold him here, in love, in war, successful, Behold him wretched in his double triumph; His fav'rite faithless, and his mistress base. Ambition only gave her to my arms, By reason not convinc'd, nor won by love. Ambition was her crime; but meaner folly Dooms me to loath at once, and doat on falsehood, And idolize th' apostate I contemn. If thou art more than the gay dream of fancy, More than a pleasing sound without a meaning, O happiness! sure thou art all Aspasia's. SCENE VIIL MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, HASAN, CARAZA. MAHOMET. Caraza, speak-have ye remark'd the Bassa? CARAZA. Close, as we might unseen, we watch'd his steps; His hair disorder'd, and his gait unequal, Betray'd the wild emotions of his mind. Sudden he stops, and inward turns his eyes, Absorb'd in thought; then, starting from his trance, Constrains a sullen smile, and shoots away. With him Abdalla we beheld- U 3 294 IRENE: } 1 MUSTAPHA. Abdalla! MAHOMET. He wears of late resentment on his brow, Deny'd the government of Servia's province. CARAZA. We mark'd him storming in excess of fury, And heard, within the thicket that concealed us, An undistinguish'd sound of threat'ning rage. MUSTAPHA, How guilt, once harbour'd in the conscious breast, Intimidates the brave, degrades the great; See Cali, dread of kings, and pride of armies, By treason levell'd with the dregs of men! Ere guilty fear depress'd the hoary chief, An angry murmur, a rebellious frown, Had stretch'd the fiery boaster in the grave. MAHOMET. Shall monarchs fear to draw the sword of justice, Aw'd by the crowd, and by their slaves restrain'd? Seize him this night, and through the private passage Convey him to the prison's inmost depths, Reserv'd to all the pangs of tedious death, [Exeunt Mahomet and Mustapha. A TRAGEDY. 295 SCENE IX. HASAN, CARAZA. HASAN. Shall then the Greeks, unpunish'd and conceal'd, Contrive perhaps the ruin of our empire, League with our chiefs, and propagate sedition? CARAZA. Whate'er their scheme, the Bassa's death defeats it, And gratitude's strong ties restrain my tongue. HASAN. What ties to slaves? what gratitude to foes? CARAZA. In that black day when slaughter'd thousands fell Around these fatal walls, the tide of war Bore me victorious onward, where Demetrius Tore unresisted from the giant hand Of stern Sebalias the triumphant crescent, And dash'd the might of Asam from the ramparts. There I became, nor blush to make it known, The captive of his sword. The coward Greeks, Enrag'd by wrongs, exulting with success, Doom'd me to die with all the Turkish captains; But brave Demetrius scorn'd the mean revenge, And gave me life.- HASAN. Do thou repay the gift, Lest unrewarded mercy lose its charms. U 4 Profuse 296 IRENE: Profuse of wealth, or bounteous of success, When Heav'n bestows the privilege to bless; Let no weak doubt the gen'rous hand restrain, For when was pow'r beneficent in vain ? A [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. ASPASIA, sola. In these dark moments of suspended fate, While yet the future fortune of my country Lies in the womb of Providence conceal'd, And anxious angels wait the mighty birth; O grant thy sacred influence, pow'rful Virtue! Attentive rise, survey the fair creation, Till, conscious of th' encircling Deity, Beyond the mists of care thy pinion tow`rs. This calm, these joys, dear Innocence! are thine: Joys ill exchang'd for gold, and pride, and empire. [Enter Irene and Attendants. SCENE II. ASPASIA, IRENE, and Attendants. IRENE. See how the Moon through all th' unclouded sky Spreads her mild radiance, and descending dews Revive A TRAGEDY. 207 Revive the languid flow'rs; thus Nature shone New from the Maker's hand, and fair array'd In the bright colours of p.inæval spring; When purity, while fraud was yet unknown, Play'd fearless in th' inviolated shades. This elemental joy, this gen'ral calm, Is sure the smile of unoffended Heav'n. Yet! why- MAID. Behold, within th' embow'ring grove Aspasia stands- IRENE. With melancholy mien, Pensive, and envious of Irene's greatness. Steal unperceiv'd upon her meditations- But see, the lofty maid, at our approach, Resumes the imperious air of haughty Virtue. Are these th' unceasing joys, th' unmingled pleasures [To Aspasia. For which Aspasia scorn'd the Turkish crown? Is this th' unshaken confidence in Heav'n? Is this the boasted bliss of conscious Virtue? When did Content sigh out her cares in secret? When did Felicity repine in deserts? ASPASIA, Ill suits with guilt the gayeties of triumph; When daring Vice insults eternal Justice, The ministers of wrath forget compassion, And snatch the flaming bolt with hasty hand. 298 IRENE: 7 IRENE. Forbear thy threats, proud Prophetess of ill, Vers'd in the secret counsels of the sky. ASPASIA. Forbear!-But thou art sunk beneath reproach; In vain affected raptures flush the cheek, And songs of pleasure warble from the tongue, When fear and anguish labour in the breast, And all within is darkness and confusion. Thus on deceitful Etna's flow'ry side Unfading verdure glads the roving eye; While secret flames, with unextinguish'd rage, Insatiate on her wasted entrails prey, And melt her treach'rous beauties into ruin. [Enter Demetrius. SCENE III. ASPASIA, IRENE, DEMETRIUS. DEMETRIUS. Fly, fly, my Love! destruction rushes on us, The rack expects us, and the sword pursues. ASPASIA, Is Greece deliver'd? is the tyrant fall'n? DEMETRIUS. Greece is no more; the prosp'rous tyrant lives, Reserv'd for other lands, the scourge of Heav'n. A TRAGEDY. 299 ASPASIA. defeated? Say by what fraud, what force, were you Betray'd by falsehood or by crowds o'erborn? DEMETRIUS. The pressing exigence forbids relation. Abdalla ASPASIA. Hated name! his jealous rage Broke out in perfidy-Oh curs'd Aspasia, Born to complete the ruin of her country! Hide me, oh hide me from upbraiding Greece; Oh, hide me from myself! DEMETRIUS. Be fruitless grief The doom of guilt alone, nor dare to seize The breast where Virtue guards the throne of Peace. Devolve, dear maid, thy sorrows on the wretch, Whose fear, or rage, or treachery, betray us! IRENE, aside. A private station may discover more Then let me rid them of Irene's presence: Proceed, and give a loose to love and treason. Yet tell, ASPASIA. [Withdraws. DEMETRIUS. To tell or hear were waste of life. 300 IRENE: ASPASIA. The life, which only this design supported, Were now well lost in hearing how you fail'd. DEMETRIUS. Or meanly fraudulent or madly gay, Abdalla, while we waited near the palace, With ill-tini'd mirth propos'd the bowl of love. Just as it reach'd my lips, a sudden cry Urg'd me to dash it to the ground untouch'd, And seize my sword with disencumber'd hand. ASPASIA. What cry? The stratagem? Did then Abdalla— DEMETRIUS. At once a thousand passions fir'd his cheek! Then all is past, he cry'd—and darted from us Nor at the call of Cali deign'd to turn, ASPASIA, Why did you stay, deserted and betray'd? What more could force attempt, or art contrive? DEMETRIUS. Amazement seiz'd us, and the hoary Eassa Stood torpid in suspense; but soon Abdalla Return'd with force that made resistance vain, And bade his new confederates seize the traitors. Cali disarm'd was born away to death; Myself escap'd, or favour'd, or neglected, ASPASIA. O Greece! renown'd for science and for wealth, Behold thy boasted honours snatch'd away. A TRAGEDY. 301 DEMETRIUS. Though disappointment blast our general scheme, Yet much remains to hope. I shall not call The day disastrous that secures our flight; Nor think that effort lost which rescues thee. [Enter Abdalla. SCENE IV. IRENE, ASPASIA, DEMETRIUS, ABDALLA. ABDALLA. At length the prize is mine-The haughty maid That bears the fate of empires in her air, Henceforth shall live for me; for me alone Shall plume her charms, and, with attentive watch, Steal from Abdalla's eye the sign to smile. DEMETRIUS. Cease this wild roar of savage exultation; Advance, and perish in the frantic boast. ASPASIA. Forbear, Demetrius, 'tis Aspasia calls thee; Thy love, Aspasia, calls; restrain thy sword; Nor rush on useless wounds with idle courage. What now remains? DEMETRIUS. ASPASIA. It now remains to fly! 302 IRENE: DEMETRIUS. Shall then the savage live, to boast his insult; Tell how Demetrius shunn'd his single hand, And stole his life and mistress from his sabre? ABDALLA. Infatuate loiterer, has Fate in vain Unclasp'd his iron gripe to set thee free? Still dost thou flutter in the jaws of death; Snar'd with thy fears, and maz'd in stupefaction? DEMETRIUS. Forgive, my Fair; 'tis life, 'tis nature, calls: Now, traitor, feel the fear that chills my hand. ASPASIA. Tis madness to provoke superfluous danger, And cowardice to dread the boast of folly. ABDALLA. Fly, wretch, while yet my pity grants thee flight; The power of Turkey waits upon my call. Leave but this maid, resign a hopeless claim, And drag away thy life in scorn and safety, Thy life, too mean a prey to lure Abdalla. DEMETRIUS. Once more I dare thy sword; behold the prize, Behold I quit her to the chance of battle. : [Quitting Aspasia. A TRAGEDY. 303 ABDALLA. Well may'st thou call thy master to the combat, And try the hazard, that hast nought to stake; Alike my death or thine is gain to thee; But soon thou shalt repent: another nioment Shall throw th' attending Janizaries round thee. [Exit hastily Abdalla. SCENE V. ASPASIA, IRENE, DEMETRIUS. IRENE. Abdalla fails; now Fortune, all is mine. Haste, Murza, to the palace, let the Sultan [Aside. [To one of her Attendants. Despatch his guards to stop the flying traitors, While I protract their stay. Be swift and faithful. [Exit Murza. This lucky stratagem shall charm the Sultan, [Aside. Secure his confidence, and fix his love. DEMETRIUS. Behold a boaster's worth! Now snatch, my fair, The happy moment; hasten to the shore, Ere he return with thousands at his side. ASPASIA. In vain. I listen to th' inviting call Of freedom and of love; my trembling joints, Relax'd with fear, refuse to bear me forward. Depart, Demetrius, lest my fate involve thee; Forsake 304 IRENE: Forsake a wretch abandon'd to despair, To share the miseries herself has caus'd. DEMETRIUS. Let us not struggle with th' eternal will, Nor languish o'er irreparable ruins; Come, haste and live-Thy innocence and truth Shall bless our wand'rings, and propitiate Heav'n. IRENE. Press not her flight, while yet her feeble nerves Refuse their office, and uncertain life Still labours with imaginary wo; Here let me tend her with officious care, Watch each unquiet flutter of the breast, And joy to feel the vital warmth return, To see the cloud forsake her kindling cheek, And hail the rosy dawn of rising health. ASPASIA. Oh! rather, scornful of flagitious greatness, Resolve to share our dangers and our toils, Companion of our flight, illustrious exile, Leave slavery, guilt, and infamy behind. IRENE. My soul attends thy voice, and banish'd Virtue Strives to regain her empire of the mind; Assist her efforts with thy strong persuasion; Sure 'tis the happy hour ordain'd above, When vanquish'd Vice shall tyrannize no more. DEMETRIUS. Remember peace and anguish are before thee, And honour and reproach, and Heav'n and Hell. A TRAGEDY. 305 ASPASIA. Content with freedom, and precarious greatness. DEMETRIUS. Now make thy choice, while yet the pow'r of choice Kind Heav'n affords thee, and inviting Mercy Holds out her hand to lead thee back to truth. IRENE. Stay in this dubious twilight of conviction, The gleams of reason, and the clouds of passion, Irradiate and obscure my breast by turns: Stay but a moment, and prevailing truth Will'spread resistless light upon my soul. DEMETRIUS. But since none knows the danger of a moment, And Heav'n forbids to lavish life away, Let kind compulsion terminate the contest. [Seizing her hand. Ye Christian captives, follow me to freedom: A galley waits us, and the winds invite. IRENE. Whence is this violence? DEMETRIUS. Will teach a gentler term. Your calmer thought IRENE. Forbear this rudeness, And learn the rev'rence due to Turkey's Queen: Fly, slaves, and call the Sultan to my rescue. VOL. I. X 306 IRENE: 71 DEMETRIUS. Farewell, unhappy maid may every joy Be thine, that wealth can give, or guilt receive! ASPASIA. And when, contemptuous of imperial pow'r, Disease shall chase the phantoms of ambition, May penitence attend thy mournful bed, And wing thy latest prayer to pitying Heav'n! [Exeunt Dem. Asp. with part of the Attendants. SCENE VI. [IRENE walks at a distance from her attendants.] After a pause. Against the head, which innocence secures, Insidious Malice aims her darts in vain, Turn'd backwards by the pow'rful breath of Heav'n. Perhaps even now the lovers unpursu'd Bound o'er the sparkling waves. Go, happy bark, Thy sacred freight shall still the raging main. To guide thy passage shall th' aërial spirits Fill all the starry lamps with double blaze; Th' applauding sky shall pour forth all its beans, To grace the triumph of victorious virtue; While I, not yet familiar to my crimes, Recoil from thought, and shudder at myself. How am I chang'd! How lately did Irene Fly from the busy pleasures of her sex, Well pleas'd to search the treasures of remembrance, And - A TRAGEDY. 307 And live her guiltless moments o'er anew! Come, let us seek new pleasures in the palace, [To her attendants, going off. Till soft fatigue invite us to reposé. SCENË VII. [Enter MUSTAPHA, meeting and stopping her.] Fair Falsehood, stay. MUSTAPHA: IRENE. What dream of sudden power Has taught my slave the language of command! Henceforth be wise, nor hope a second pardon. MUSTAPHA. Who calls for pardon from a wretch condemn'd? IRENE. Thy look, thy speech, thy action, all is wildness- Who charges guilt on me? MUSTAPHA. Who charges guilt! Ask of thy heart; attend the voice of Conscience- Who charges guilt! lay by this proud resentment That fires thy cheek, and elevates thy mien, Nor thus usurp the dignity of virtue. Review this day. IRENE. Whate'er thy accusation, The Sultan is my judge. X 2 308 IRENE: MUSTAPHA. That hope is past; Hard was the strife of justice and of love; But now 'tis o'er, and justice has prevail'd. Know'st thou not Cali? know'st thou not Demetrius? IRENE. Bold slave, I know them both-I know them traitors. MUSTAPHA. Perfidious!-yes-too well thou know'st them traitors. IRENE. Their treason throws no stain upon Irene. This day has prov'd my fondness for the Sultan; He knew Irene's truth. MUSTAPHA. The Sultan knows it, He knows how near apostasy to treason- But 'tis not mine to judge-I scorn and leave thee. go, lest vengeance urge my hand to blood, I To blood too mean to stain a soldier's sabre. [Exit Mustapha. IRENE, to her attendants. Go, blust'ring slave-He has not heard of Murza. That dext'rous message frees me from suspicion. 1 A TRAGEDY. 309 SCENE VIII. Enter HASAN, CARAZA, with Mutes, who throw the black robe upon IRENE, and sign to her at- tendants to withdraw. HASAN. Forgive, fair Excellence, th' unwilling tongue, The tongue, that, forc'd by strong necessity, Bids beauty, such as thine, prepare to die. IRENE. What wild mistake is this! Take hence with speed Your robe of mourning, and your dogs of death. Quick from my sight, you inauspicious monsters, Nor dare henceforth to shock Irene's walks. HASAN. Alas! they come commanded by the Sultan, Th' unpitying ministers of Turkish justice, Nor dare to spare the life his frown condemus. IRENE. Are these the rapid thunderbolts of war, That pour with sudden violence on kingdoms, And spread their flames resistless o'er the world? What sleepy charms benumb these active heroes, Depress their spirits, and retard their speed? Beyond the fear of ling'ring punishment, Aspasia now within her lover's arms Securely sleeps, and in delightful dreamst Smiles at the threat'nings of defeated rage. L x 3 310 IRENE: CARAZA. We come, bright Virgin, though relenting Nature Shrinks at the hated task, for thy destruction; When summon'd by the Sultan's clam'rous fury, We ask'd with tim'rous tongue th' offender's name, He struck his tortur'd breast, and roar'd, Irene. We started at the sound, again inquir'd ; Again his thund'ring voice return'd, Irene, IRENE. Whence is this rage? what barb'rous tongue has wrong'd me? What fraud misleads him? or what crimes incense? HASAN. Expiring Cali nam'd Irene's chamber, The place appointed for his master's death, IRENE. Irene's chamber! From my faithful bosom Far be the thought-But hear my protestation. CARAZA, "Tis ours, alas! to punish, not to judge, * Not call'd to try the cause, we heard the sentence, Ordain'd the mournful messengers of death. IRENE. Some ill-designing statesman's base intrigue! Some cruel stratagem of jealous beauty! Perhaps yourselves the villains that defame me, Now haste to murder, ere returning thought Recall th' extorted doom.-It must be so: Confess A TRAGEDY. 311 I Confess your crime, or lead me to the Sultan ; There dauntless truth shall blast the vile accuser; Then shall you feel what language cannot utter, Each piercing torture, ev'ry change of pain, That vengeance can invent, or pow'r inflict. [Enter ABDALLA: he stops short and listens. SCENE IX. IRENE, HASAN, CARAZA, ABDALLA. ABDALLA, aside. All is not lost, Abdalla; see the queen, See the last witness of thy guilt and fear Enrob'd in death—Despatch her, and be great, CARAZĄ. Unhappy fair! compassion calls upon me To check this torrent of imperious rage; While unavailing anger crowds thy tongue With idle threats and fruitless exclamation, The fraudful moments ply their silent wings, And steal thy life away. Death's horrid angel Already shakes his bloody sabre o'er thee. The raging Sultan burns till our return, Curses the dull delays of ling'ring mercy, And thinks his fatal mandates ill obey'd, ABDALLA, Is then your sov'reign's life so cheaply rated, That thus you parly with detected treason? Should she prevail to gain the Sultan's presence, Soon might her tears engage a lover's credit; X 4 Perhaps 3 1 * 312 IRENE: Perhaps her malice might transfer the charge; Perhaps her pois'nous tongue might blast Abdalla. IRENE. O let me but be heard, nor fear from me Or flights of pow'r, or projects of ambition. My hopes, my wishes, terminate in life, A little life, for grief, and for repentance. ABDALLA. I mark'd her wily messenger afar, And saw him skulking in the closest walks: I guess'd her dark designs, and warn'd the Sultan, And bring her former sentence new confirm'd. HASAN. Then call it not our cruelty, nor crime; Deem us not deaf to wo, nor blind to beauty, That thus constrain'd we speed the stroke of death. [Beckons the Mutes. > IRENE. O, name not death! Distraction and amazement, Horrour and agony, are in that sound! Let me but live, heap woes on woes upon me, Hide me with murd'rers in the dungeon's gloom, Send me to wander on some pathless shore, Let shame and hooting infamy pursue me, Let slav'ry harass, and let hunger gripe. CARAZA. T Could we reverse the sentence of the Sultan, Our bleeding bosoms plead Irene's cause. But J 1 A TRAGEDY. 313 But cries and tears are vain; prepare with patience To meet that fate we can delay no longer. [The Mutes at the sign lay hold of her, ABDALLA. Despatch, ye ling'ring slaves; or nimbler hands, Quick at my call, shall execute your charge; Despatch, and learn a fitter time for pity. IRENE. Grant me one hour, O grant me but a moment, And bounteous Heav'n repay the mighty mercy With peaceful death and happiness eternal. CARAZA. The prayer I cannot grant-I dare not hear. Short be thy pains. [Signs again to the Mutes, IRENE. Unutterable anguish! 1 Guilt and Despair, pale spectres! grin around me, And stun me with the yellings of damnation ! O, hear my pray'rs! accept, all-pitying Heav'n, These tears, these pangs, these last remains of life; Nor let the crimes of this detested day Be charg'd upon my soul. O, mercy! mercy ! } SCENE X. [Mutes force her out. ABDALLA, HASAN, CARAZA. ABDALLA, aside. Safe in her death, and in Demetrius's flight, Abdalla, bid thy troubled breast be calm. Now 314 IRENE: Now shalt thou shine the darling of the Sultan, The plot all Cali's, the detection thine. HASAN to CARAZA. Does not thy bosom (for I know thee tender, A stranger to th' oppressor's savage joy,) Melt at Irene's fate, and share her woes? CARAZA. Her piercing cries yet fill the loaded air, Dwell on my ear, and sadden all my soul. But let us try to clear our clouded brows, And tell the horrid tale with cheerful face; The stormy Sultan rages at our stay. ABDALLA, Frame your report with circumspective art; Inflame her crimes, exalt your own obedience; But let no thoughtless hint involve Abdalla, CARAZA. What need of caution to report the fate Of her the Sultan's voice condemn'd to die? Or why should he, whose violence of duty : Has serv'd his prince so well, demand our silence? ABDALLA. Perhaps my zeal too fierce betray'd my prudence; Perhaps my warmth exceeded my commission; Perhaps I will not stoop to plead my cause, `Or argue with the slave that sav'd Demetrius. CARAZA. From his escape learn thou the pow'r of virtue; Nor hope his fortune, while thou want'st his worth, A TRAGEDY. 315 HASAN. The Sultan comes, still gloomy, still enraged. SCENE XI. HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, ABDALLA. MAHOMET, Where's this fair trait'ress? Where's this smiling mischief, Whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind? HASAN. Thine orders, mighty Sultan! are perform'd, And all Irene now is breathless clay. MAHOMET, Your hasty zeal defrauds the claim of justice, And disappointed vengeance burns in vain. I came to heighten tortures by reproach, And add new terrours to the face of death. Was this the maid whose love I bought with empire? True, she was fair; the smile of innocence Play'd on her cheek-So shone the first apostate- Irene's chamber! Did not roaring Cali, Just as the rack forc'd out his struggling soul, Name for the scene of death Irene's chamber? r MUSTAPHA. His breath prolong'd but to detect her treason, Then in short sighs forsook his broken frame, • 316 IRENE: MAHOMET. 、 Decreed to perish in Irene's chamber! There had she lull'd me with endearing falsehoods, Clasp'd in her arms, or slumb'ring on her breast, And bar'd my bosom to the ruffian's dagger. SCENE XII. HASAN, CARAZA, MAHOMET, MUSTAPHA, MURZA, ABDALLA. MURZA. Forgive, great Sultan! that, by fate prevented, I bring a tardy message from Irene. MAHOMET. Some artful wile of counterfeited love! Some soft decoy to lure me to destruction! And thou, the curs'd accomplice of her treason, Declare thy message, and expect thy doom. MURZA. The queen requested that a chosen troop Might intercept the traitor Greek, Demetrius, Then ling'ring with his captive mistress here. MUSTAPHA. The Greek Demetrius ! whom th' expiring Bassa Declar'd the chief associate of his guilt! MAHOMET, A chosen troop-to intercept-Demetrius- The queen requested-Wretch, repeat the message; * And, if one varied accent prove thy falsehood, Or C A TRAGEDY. 317 Or but one moment's pause betray confusion, Those trembling limbs-Speak out, thou shiv'ring traitor. The queen requested MURZA. MAHOMET. Who? the dead Irene? Was she then guiltless! has my thoughtless rage Destroy'd the fairest workmanship of Heav'n! Doom'd her to death unpity'd and unheard, Amidst her kind solicitudes for me! Ye slaves of cruelty, ye tools of rage, [To Has. and Ye blind officious ministers of folly, [Car. Could not her charnis repress your zeal for murder ? Could not her prayʼrs, her innocence, her tears, Suspend the dreadful sentence for an hour? One hour had freed me from the fatal errour! One hour had sav'd me from despair and madness. CARAZA. Your fierce impatience forc'd us from your presence, Urg'd us to speed, and bade us banish pity, Nor trust our passions with her fatal charms. MAHOMET, What had'st thou lost by slighting those commands? Thy life perhaps-Were but Irene spar'd, Well if a thousand lives like thine had perish'd; Such beauty, sweetness, love, were cheaply bought With half the grov'ling slaves that load the globe, 318 IRENE: • MUSTAPHA. Great is thy wo! But think, illustrious Sultan, Such ills are sent for souls like thine to conquer. Shake off this weight of unavailing grief, Rush to the war, display thy dreadful banners, And lead thy troops victorious round the world. MAHOMET. Robb'd of the maid with whom I wish'd to triumph, No more I burn for fame, or for dominion; Success and conquest now are empty sounds, Remorse and anguish seize on all my breast; Those groves, whose shades embower'd the dear Irene, Heard her last cries, and fann'd her dying beauties, Shall hide me from the tasteless world for ever. [Mahomet goes back, and returns. Yet, ere I quit the sceptre of dominion, Let one just act conclude the hateful day. Hew down, ye guards, those vassals of distraction, [Pointing to Hasan and Caraza, Those hounds of blood, that catch the hint to kill; Bear off with eager haste th' unfinish'd sentence, And speed the stroke, lest mercy should o'ertake them. CARAZA. Then hear, great Mahomet, the voice of truth. MAHOMET. Hear, shall I hear thee! didst thou hear Irene? :. Hear but a moment. CARAZA. A TRAGEDY. 319 MAHOMET. Hadst thou heard a moment, Thou might'st have liv'd, for thou hadst spar'd Irene. CARAZA. I heard her, pitied her, and wish'd to save her. MAHOMET. And wish'd-be still thy fate to wish in vain. CARAZA. I heard, and soften'd, till Abdalla brought Her final doom, and hurried her destruction. MAHOMET. Abdalla brought her doom! Abdalla brought it! The wretch, whose guilt, declar'd by tortur'd Cali, My rage and grief had hid from my remembrance: Abdalla brought her doom! HASAN. Abdalla brought it, While yet she begg'd to plead her cause before thee. MAHOMET. O seize me, Madness--Did she call on me! I feel, I see the ruffian's barb'rous rage. He seiz'd her melting in the fond appeal, And stopp'd the heav'nly voice that call'd on me. My spirits fail, awhile support me. Vengeance- Be just, ye slaves; and, to be just, be cruel; Contrive new racks, imbitter ev'ry pang, Inflict whatever treason can deserve, Which murder'd innocence that call'd on me. [Exit Mahomet; Abdalla is dragged off. A 320 IRENE: SCENE XIII. HASAN, CARAZA, MUSTAPHA, MURZA. MUSTAPHA to MURZA. What plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee, Thou sluggish idler, dilatory slave! Behold the model of consummate beauty, Torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect. MURZA. Such was the will of Heav'n-A band of Greeks That mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose, Rush'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm'd, Breathless, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach Detain'd me, till Demetrius set me free. MUSTAPHA. So sure the fall of greatness, rais'd on crimes! So fix'd the justice of all-conscious Heav'n! When haughty guilt exults with impious joy, Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy; Weak man with erring rage may throw the dart, But Heav'n shall guide it to the guilty heart. t EPILOGUE (321) EPILOGUE. BY SIR WILLIAM YONGE. MARRY a Turk! a haughty, tyrant king! Who thinks us women born to dress and sing To please his fancy! see no other man! Let liim persuade me to it-if he can: Besides, he has fifty wives, and who can bear To have the fiftieth part her paltry share? 'Tis true, the fellow's handsome, straight, and tall, But how the devil should he please us all! My swain is little-true-but, be it known, My pride's to have that little all my own. Men will be ever to their errors blind, Where woman 's not allow'd to speak her mind. I swear this Eastern pageantry is nonsense, And for one man--one wife 's enough of conscience. In vain proud man usurps what's woman's due; For us alone, they honour's paths pursue: Inspir'd by us, they glory's heights ascend; Woman the source, the object, and the end. Though wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive, These are all trifles to what we can give. For us the statesman labours, hero fights, Bears toilsome days, and wakes long tedious nights And, when blest peace has silenc'd war's alarms, Receives his full reward in Beauty's arms. VOL. I. Y : (323) MISCELLANEOUS POEM S. PROLOGUE. SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, APRIL 5, 1750, BEFORE THE MASQUE OF COMUS. Acted at DRURY-LANE THEATRE, for the Benefit of MILTON'S Grand-daughter *. YE patriot crowds, who burn for England's fame, Ye nymphs, whose bosoms beat at Milton's name, Whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes, Shames the mean pensions of Augustan times, Immortal patrons of succeeding days, Attend this prelude of perpetual praise; Let wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage With close malevolence, or publick rage, Let study, worn with virtue's fruitless lore, Behold this theatre, and grieve no more. This night, distinguish'd by your smiles, shall tell That never Briton can in vain excel; The slighted arts futurity shall trust, And rising ages hasten to be just. At length our mighty Bard's victorious lays Fill the loud voice of universal praise; And baffled spite, with hopeless anguish dumb, Yields to renown the centuries to come; * See Vol. IX. p. 150. Y 2 With ¡ 324 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. With ardent haste each candidate of fame, Ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name; He sees, and pitying sees, vain wealth bestow Those pageant honours which he scorn'd below, While crowds aloft the laureat bust behold, Or trace his form on circulating gold. Unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay, And want hung threat'ning o'er her slow decay. What though she shine with no Miltonian fire, No fav'ring Muse her morning dreams inspire; Yet softer claims the melting heart engage, Her youth laborious, and her blameless age; Hers the mild merits of domestick life, The patient sufferer, and the faithful wife. Thus, grac'd with humble virtue's native charms, Her grandsire leaves her in Britannia's arms; Secure with peace, with competence, to dwell, While tutelary nations guard her cell. Yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wise, ye brave! Tis yours to crown desert-beyond the grave. PROLOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF THE GOOD-NATUR'D MAN, 1769. PREST by the load of life, the weary mind Surveys the gen'ral toil of human kind, With cool submission joins the labʼring train, And social sorrow loses half its pain: Our न MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 325 1 Our anxious bard without complaint may share This bustling season's epidemick care; Like Cæsar's pilot dignify'd by Fate, Tost in one common storm with all the great; Distrest alike the statesman and the wit, When one a Borough courts, and one the Pit. The busy candidates for power and fame Have hopes, and fears, and wishes, just the same; Disabled both to combat or to fly, Must hear all taunts, and hear without reply. Uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage, As mongrels bay the lion in a cage. Th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale, For that blest year when all that vote may rail; Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss, Till that glad night when all that hate may hiss. "This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," Says swelling Crispin, "begg'd a cobler's vote." "This night our wit," the pert apprentice cries, "Lies at my feet; I hiss him, and he dies." The great, 'tis true, can charm th' electing tribe; The bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe. Yet, judg'd by those whose voices ne'er were sold, He feels no want of ill-persuading gold; But, confident of praise, if praise be due, Trusts without fear to merit and to you. 1 Y 3 326 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ། PROLOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF A WORD TO THE WISE*. SPOKEN BY MR. HULL. THIS night presents a play which publick rage, Or right, or wrong, once hooted from the stage t. From zeal or malice, now no more we dread, For English vengeance wars not with the dead. A gen'rous foe regards with pitying eye The man whom fate has laid where all must lie. To wit reviving from its author's dust Be kind, ye judges, or at least be just. For no renew'd hostilities invade Th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade. Let one great payment every claim appease, And him, who cannot hurt, allow to please; To please by scenes unconscious of offence, By harmless merriment, or useful sense. Where aught of bright or fair the piece displays, Approve it only-'tis too late to praise. If want of skill or want of care appear, Forbear to hiss-the poet cannot hear. By all like him must praise and blame be found, At best a fleeting gleam, or empty sound. * Performed at Covent-Garden theatre in 1777, for the benefit of Mrs. Kelly, widow of Hugh Kelly, Esq. (the author of the play) and her children. + Upon the first representation of this play, 1770, a party assembled to damn it, and succeeded. Yet MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 327 Yet then shall calm reflection bless the night, When liberal pity dignify'd delight; When Pleasure fir'd her torch at Virtue's flame, And Mirth was Bounty with an humbler name. SPRING, AN ODE. STERN Winter now, by Spring repress'd, Forbears the long-continued strife; And Nature on her naked breast Delights to catch the gales of life. Now o'er the rural kingdom roves Soft pleasure with the laughing train, Love warbles in the vocal groves, And vegetation plants the plain. Unhappy! whom to beds of pain, Arthritic * tyranny consigns; Whom smiling nature courts in vain, Though rapture sings and beauty shines. Yet though my limbs disease invades, Her wings Imagination tries, And bears me to the peaceful shades, Where's humble turrets rise. Here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight, Nor from the pleasing groves depart, Where first great Nature charm'd my sight, Where Wisdom first inform'd my heart. * The author being ill of the gout. Y 4 Ilen 328 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ། Here let me through the vales pursue A guide a father-and a friend, Once more great Nature's works renew, - Once more on Wisdom's voice attend. From false caresses, causeless strife, Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd; Here let me learn the use of life, When best enjoy'd-when most improv'd. Teach me, thou venerable bower, Cool meditation's quiet seat, The gen'rous scorn of venal power, The silent grandeur of retreat. When pride by guilt to greatness climbs, Or raging factions rush to war, Here let me learn to shun the crimes I can't prevent, and will not share. But lest I fall by subtler foes, Bright Wisdom, teach me Curio's art, The swelling passions to compose, And quell the rebels of the heart. MIDSUMMER, AN ODE. O PHOEBUS! down the western sky, Far hence diffuse thy burning ray, Thy light to distant worlds supply, And wake them to the cares of day. Come, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 329 Come, gentle Eve, the friend of care, Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night! Refresh me with a cooling air, And cheer me with a lambent light. Lay me, where o'er the verdant ground Her living carpet Nature spreads; Where the green bower, with roses crown'd, In showers its fragrant foliage sheds ; Improve the peaceful hour with wine, Let musick die along the grove; Around the bowl let myrtles twine, And ev'ry strain be tun'd to love. Come, Stella, queen of all my heart! Come, born to fill its vast desires! Thy looks perpetual joys impart, Thy voice perpetual love inspires. Whilst all my wish and thine complete, By turns we languish and we burn, Let sighing gales our sighs repeat, Our murmurs-murmuring brooks return. Let me when nature calls to rest, And blushing skies the morn foretell, Sink on the down of Stella's breast, And bid the waking world farewell. AUTUM N, AN ODE. ALAS! with swift and silent pace, Impatient time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and nature's face Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe. - "Twas 330 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 'Twas Spring, 'twas Summer, all was gay, Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow; The flowers of Spring are swept away, And Summer-fruits desert the bough. The verdant leaves that play'd on high, And wanton'd on the western breeze, Now trod in dust neglected lie, As Boreas strips the bending trees. The fields that wav'd with golden grain, As russet heaths, are wild and bare; Not moist with dew, but drench'd with rain, Nor health, nor pleasure, wanders there. No more while through the midnight shade, Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray, Soft pleasing woes my heart invade, As Progne pours the melting lay. From this capricious clime she soars, Ch! would some god but wings supply! To where each morn the Spring restores, Companion of her flight I'd fly. Vain wish! me fate compels to bear The downward season's iron reign, Compels to breathe polluted air, And shiver on a blasted plain. What bliss to life can Autumn yield, If glooms, and showers, and storms prevail; And Ceres flics the naked field, And flowers, and fruits, and Phoebus fail? Oh! what remains, what lingers yet, To cheer me in the darkening hour! The grape remains! the friend of wit, In love, and mirth, of mighty power. Haste, Y MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 331 Haste--press the clusters, fill the bowl; Apollo! shoot thy parting ray: This gives the sunshine of the soul, This god of health, and verse, and day. Still-still the jocund strain shall flow, The pulse with vig`rous rapture beat; My Stella with new charms shall glow, And ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet. WINTER, AN ODE. NO more the Morn, with tepid rays, Unfolds the flower of various hue; Noon spreads no more the genial blaze, Nor gentle eve distils the dew. The ling'ring hours prolong the night, Usurping Darkness shares the day; Her mists restrain the force of light, And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway. By gloomy twilight half reveal'd, With sighs we view the hoary hill, The leafless wood, the naked field, The snow-topt cot, the frozen rill. No musick warbles through the grove, No vivid colours paint the plain; No more with devious steps I rove Through verdant paths now sought in vain. Aloud the driving tempest roars, Congeal'd, impetuous showers descend; Haste, close the window, bar the doors, Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend. In 332 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. In nature's aid let art supply With light and heat my little sphere; Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high, Light up a constellation here. Let musick sound the voice of joy, Or mirth repeat the jocund tale ; Let Love his wanton wiles employ, And o'er the season wine prevail. Yet time life's dreary winter brings, When Mirth's gay tale shall please no more; Nor musick charm-though Stella sings; Nor love, nor wine, the spring restore. Catch, then, Oh! catch the transient hour, Improve each moment as it flies; Life's a short summer-man a flower: He dies-alas! how soon he dies! THE WINTER'S WALK. BEHOLD, my fair, where'er we rove, What dreary prospects round us rise; The naked hill, the leafless grove, The hoary ground, the frowning skies! Nor only through the wasted plain, Stern Winter! is thy force confess'd; Still wider spreads thy horrid reign, I feel thy power usurp my breast. Enlivening hope, and fond desire, Resign the heart to spleen and care; Scarce frighted Love maintains her fire, And rapture saddens to despair. In MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 333 In groundless hope, and causeless fear, Unhappy man! behold thy doom; Still changing with the changeful year, The slave of sunshine and of gloom. Tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms, With mental and corporeal strife, Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms, And screen me from the ills of life. To Miss ***** ON HER GIVING THE AUTHOR A GOLD AND SILK NET-WORK PURSE OF HER OWN WEAVING*. THOUGH gold and silk their charms unite To make thy curious web delight, In vain the varied work would shine, If wrought by any hand but thine; Thy hand, that knows the subtler art To weave those nets that catch the heart, Spread out by me, the roving coin Thy nets may catch, but not confine; Nor can I hope thy silken chain The glittring vagrants shall restrain. Why, Stella, was it then decreed The heart once caught should ne'er be freed? * Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. 笋 ​334 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. To Miss ***** ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HARPSICHORD IN A ROOM HUNG WITH FLOWER-PIECES OF HER OWN PAINTING*. WHEN Stella strikes the tuneful string In scenes of imitated Spring, Where Beauty lavishes her powers On beds of never-fading flowers, And pleasure propagates around Each charm of modulated sound; Ah! think not, in the dang'rous hour, The Nymph fictitious as the flow'r; But shun, rash youth, the gay alcove, Nor tempt the snares of wily love. When charms thus press on ev'ry sense, What thought of flight, or of defence ? Deceitful hope, and vain desire, For ever flutter o'er her lyre, Delighting as the youth draws nigh, To point the glances of her eye, And forming with unerring art New chains to hold the captive heart. But on those regions of delight Might truth intrude with daring flight, Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young, One moment hear the moral song, Instruction with her flowers might spring, And wisdom warble from her string. • Printed among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. Mark, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 335 } Mark, when from thousand mingled dyes Thou seest one pleasing form arise, How active light, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid; Mark, when the different notes agree In friendly contrariety, How passion's well-accorded strife Gives all the harmony of life; Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, Consistent still, though not the same; Thy music teach the nobler art, To tune the regulated heart. EVENING: AN ODE. TO STELLA. EVENING now from purple wings Sheds the grateful gifts she brings; Brilliant drops bedeck the mead, Cooling breezes shake the reed; Shake the reed, and curl the stream Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam; Near the chequer'd lonely grove, Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love. Stella, thither let us stray, Lightly o'er the dewy way. Phoebus drives his burning car, Hence, my lovely Stella, far; In his stead, the Queen of Night Round us pours a lambent light; Light 336 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Light that seems but just to show Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow, Let us now, in whisper'd joy, Ev'ning's silent hours employ, Silence best, and conscious shades, Please the hearts that love invades, Other pleasures give them pain, Lovers all but love disdain. TO THE SAME. WHETHER Stella's eyes are found Fix'd on earth, or glancing round, If her face with pleasure glow, If she sigh at others wo, If her easy air express Conscious worth, or soft distress, Stella's 's eyes, and air, and face, Charm with undiminish'd grace. If on her we see display'd Pendant gems, and rich brocade, If her chintz with less expense Flows in easy negligence; Still she lights the conscious flame, Still her charms appear the same; If she strikes the vocal strings, If she's silent, speaks, or sings, If she sit, or if she move, Still we love, and still approve. Vain the casual, transient glance, Which alone can please by chance, Beauty, J MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 337 Beauty, which depends on art, Changing with the changing heart, Which demands the toilet's aid, Pendant gems and rich brocade. I those charms alone can prize Which from constant nature rise, Which nor circumstance, nor dress, E'er can make, or more, or less. TO A FRIEND: No more thus brooding o'er yon heap, With Av'rice painful vigils keep; Still unenjoy'd the present store, Still endless sighs are breath'd for more. Oh! quit the shadow, catch the prize, Which not all India's treasure buys! To purchase Heaven, has gold the power? Can gold remove the mortal hour? In life can love be bought with gold? Are friendship's pleasures to be sold? No-all that's worth a wish--a thought: Fair virtue gives unbrib'd, unbought, Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind, Let nobler views engage thy mind. With science tread the wond'rous way, Or learn the Muses' moral lay; In social hours indulge thy soul, Where mirth and temp'rance mix the bowl; VOL. I. Z To 338 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. To virtuous love resign thy breast, And be, by blessing beauty-blest. Thus taste the feast by nature spread, Ere youth and all its joys are fled; Come, taste with me the balm of life, Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife. I boast whate'er for man was meant, In health, and Stella, and content; And scorn! oh! let that scorn be thine ! Mere things of clay that dig the mine. STELLA IN MOURNING. WHEN lately Stella's form display'd The beauties of the gay brocade, The nymphs, who found their power decline, Proclaim'd her not so fair as fine. "Fate! snatch away the bright disguise, "And let the goddess trust her eyes.” Thus blindly pray'd the Fretful Fair, And Fate malicious heard the pray'r; But, brighten'd by the sable dress, As virtue rises in distress, Since Stella still extends her reign, Ah! how shall envy sooth her pain? Th' adoring Youth and envious Fair, Henceforth shall form one common prayer; And love and hate alike implore The skies" That Stella mourn no more.' 鹭 ​MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 339 TO STELLA. Nor the soft sighs of vernal gales, The fragrance of the flow'ry vales, The murmurs of the crystal rill, The vocal grove, the verdant hill; Not all their charms, though all unite, Can touch my bosom with delight. Not all the gems on India's shore, Not all Peru's unbounded store, Not all the pow'r, nor all the fame, That heroes, kings, or poets, claim; Nor knowledge, which the learn'd approve; To form one wish my soul can move. Yet nature's charms allure my eyes, And knowledge, wealth, and fame I prize; Fame, wealth, and knowledge, I obtain, Nor seek I nature's charms in vain; In lovely Stella all combine; And, lovely Stella! thou art mine. Z 2 340 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. VERSE S, WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN. A SPRIG OF MYRTLE*. WHAT hopes, what terrours, does thy gift create? Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate! The myrtle (ensign of supreme command, Consign'd by Venus to Melissa's hand) Not less capricious than a reigning fair, Oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray❜r. In myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain, In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain. The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads, Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads. Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart, And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart. Soon must this bough, as you shall fix its doom, Adorn Philander's head, or grace his tomb. N. * These Verses were first printed in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1768, p. 439, but were written many years earlier. Elegant as they are, Dr. Johnson assured me, they were composed in the short space of five minutes. 1 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 341 To Lady FIREBRACE *, AT BURY ASSIZES. · Ar length must Suffolk's beauties shine in vain, So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain ? Thy charms, at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre; For, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a Muse and Grace. This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipswich, and relict of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town. She became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of £.25,000), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Esq. uncle to the present Duke of Argyle; and died July 3, 1782. To LYCE, AN ELDERLY LADY. YE Nymphs whom starry rays invest, By flatt'ring poets given, Who shine, by lavish lovers drest, In all the pomp of Heaven; Engross not all the beams on high Which gild a lover's lays, But, as your sister of the sky, Let Lyce share the praise. 23 Her 342 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Her silver locks display the moon, Her brows, a cloudy show; Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are seen, And show'rs from either flow. Her teeth the night with darkness dyes, She's starr'd with pimples o'er; Her tongue like nimble lightning plies, And can with thunder roar. But some Zelinda, while I sing, Denies my Lyce shines; And all the pens of Cupid's wing Attack my gentle lines. Yet, spite of fair Zelinda's eye, And all her bards express, My Lyce makes as good a sky, And I but flatter less. ON THE DEATH OF Mr. ROBERT LEVET, A Practiser in Physic. CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine, As on we toil from day to day, By sudden blasts, or slow decline, Our social comforts drop away. Well try'd through many a varying year, See Levet to the grave descend, Officious, innocent, sincere, Of ev'ry friendless name the friend. Yet MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. $43 1 Yet still he fills Affection's eye, Obscurely wise, and coarsely kind; Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny Thy praise to merit unrefin’d. When fainting nature call'd for aid, And hov'ring Death prepar'd the blow, His vig'rous remedy display'd The pow'r of art without the show. In misery's darkest cavern known, His useful care was ever nigh, Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, And lonely want retir'd to die. No summons mock'd by chill delay, No petty gain disdain'd by pride, The modest wants of ev'ry day The toil of ev'ry day supply'd. His virtues walk'd their narrow round, ་ Nor made a pause, nor left a void; And sure th' Eternal Master found The single talent well employ'd. The busy day-the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm-his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh. Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way. Z 4 344 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. EPITAPH ON CLAUDE PHILLIPS, AN ITINERANT MUSICIAN *. PHILLIPS! whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love, Rest here, distrest by poverty no more, Find here that calm thou gav'st so oft before; Sleep undisturb'd within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine. * These lines are among Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies they are nevertheless recognized as Johnson's in a memorandum of his hand-writing, and were probably written at her request. Phillips was a travelling fiddler up and down Wales, and was greatly celebrated for his performance. EPITAPH I UM† IN THOMAM HANMER, BARONETTUM, Honorabilis admodum THOMAS HANMER, Baronettus, Wilhelmi Hanmer armigeri, è Peregrinâ Henrici · North De Mildenhall in Com. Suffolcia Baronetti sorore et hærede, Filius; Johannis Hanmer de Hanmer Baronetti At Hanmer church, in Flintshire. i Hæres MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 345 ། Hæres patruelis Antiquo gentis suæ et titulo et patrimonio successit. Duas uxores fortitus est; Alteram Isabellam, honore à patre derivato, de Arlington comitissam, Deindè celsissimi principis ducis de Grafton viduam dotariam: Alteram Elizabetham Thomæ Foulkes de Barton in Com. Suff. armigeri Filiam et hæredem. Inter humanitates studia felicitèr enutritus, Omnes liberalium artium disciplinas avidè arripuit, Quas morum suavitate haud leviter ornavit. Postquam excessit ex ephebis, Continuò inter populares suos famâ eminens, Et comitatûs sui legatus ad Parliamentum missus, Ad ardua regni negotia per annos prope triginta se accinxit: Cumque apud illos amplissimorum virorum ordines Solent nihil temerè effutire, Sed probè perpensa dissertè expromere, Orator gravis et pressus; Non minus integritatis quam eloquentiæ laude commendatus, Æquè omnium, utcunque inter se alioqui dissidentium, Aures atque animos attraxit. Aunoque demum M. DCC.XIII. regnante Annâ, Felicissimæ florentissimæque memoriæ reginâ, Ad Prolocutoris cathedram Communi Senatûs universi voce designatus est; Quod munus, Cum nullo tempore non difficile, Tum illo certè, negotiis 1 Et 346 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Et variis et lubricis et implicatis difficillimum, Cum dignitate sustinuit. Honores alios, et omnia quæ sibi in lucrum cedercnt munera, Sedulò detrectavit, Ut rei totus inserviret publica; Justi rectique tenax, Et fide in patriam incorruptâ notus. Ubi omnibus, quæ virum civemque bonum decent, officiis satisfecisset, Paulatim se à publicis consiliis in otium recipiens, Inter literarum amoenitates, Inter ante-actæ vitæ haud insuaves recordationes, Inter amicorum convictus et amplexus, Honorificè consenuit ; Et bonis omnibus, quibus charissimus vixit, ! Desideratissimus obiit. Hic, juxta cineres avi, suos condi voluit, et curavit Gulielmus Bunbury Bttus nepos et hæres. PARAPHRASE of the above EPITAPH. BY DR. JOHNSON *. THOU who survey'st these walls with curious eye, Pause at the tomb were HANMER's ashes lie; His various worth through varied life attend, And learn his virtues while thou mourn'st his end. His force of genius burn'd in early youth, With thirst of knowledge, and with love of truth; * This Paraphrase is inserted in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. The Latin is there said to be written by Dr. Freind. Of the person whose memory it celebrates, a copious account may be seen in the Appendix to the Supplement to the Biographia Britannica. His MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 347 His learning, join'd with each endearing art, Charm'd ev'ry ear, and gain'd on ev'ry heart. Thus early wise, th' endanger'd realm to aid, His country call'd him from the studious shade; In life's first bloom his publick toils began, At once commenc'd the senator and man. In business dext'rous, weighty in debate, Thrice ten long years he labour'd for the State; In ev'ry speech persuasive wisdom flow'd, In ev'ry act refulgent virtue glow'd: Suspended faction ceas'd from rage and strife, To hear his eloquence, and praise his life. Resistless merit fix'd the Senate's choice, Who hail'd him Speaker with united voice. Illustrious age! how bright thy glories shone, When HANMER fill'd the chair-and ANNE the throne! Then when dark arts obscur'd each fierce debate, When mutual feuds perplex'd the maze of state, The moderator firmly mild appear'd— Beheld with love-with veneration heard. This task performi'd-he sought no gainful post, Nor wish'd to glitter at his country's cost; Strict on the right he fix'd his steadfast eye, With temperate zeal and wise anxiety; Nor e'er from Virtue's paths was lur'd aside, To pluck the flow`rs of pleasure, or of pride. Her gifts despis'd, Corruption blush'd and fled, And Fame pursu'd him where Conviction led. Age call'd, at length, his active mind to rest, With honour sated, and with cares opprest; To letter'd ease retir'd, and honest mirth, To rural grandeur and domestick worth; Delighted 348 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Delighted still to please mankind, or mend, The patriot's fire yet sparkled in the friend. Calina Conscience, then, his former life survey'd, And recollected toils endear'd the shade, Till Nature call'd him to the gen'ral doom, And Virtue's sorrow dignified his tomb. To Miss HICKMAN *, playing on the Spinnet. BRIGHT Stella, form'd for universal reign, Too well you know to keep the slaves you gain; When in your eyes resistless lightnings play, Aw'd into love our conquer'd hearts obey, And yield reluctant to despotick sway: But when your musick soothes the raging pain, We bid propitious Heav'n prolong your reign, We bless the tyrant, and we hug the chain. When old Timotheus struck the vocal string, Ambition's fury fir'd the Grecian king: Unbounded projects lab'ring in his mind, He pants for room in one poor world confin'd. Thus wak'd to rage, by musick's dreadful pow'r, He bids the sword destroy, the flame devour, Had Stella's gentle touches mov'd the lyre, Soon had the monarch felt a nobler fire; No more delighted with destructive war, Ambitious only now to please the fair; Resign'd his thirst of empire to her charms, And found a thousand worlds in Stella's arms. } * These lines, which have been communicated by Dr. Turton, son to Mrs. Turton, the lady to whom they are addressed hy her maiden name of Hickman, must have been written at least 28 early as the year 1734, as that was the year of her marriage : at how much carlier a period of Dr. Johnson's life they may Lave been written, is not known. T MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 349 t PARAPHRASE of PROVERBS, Chap. VI. Verses 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. Go to the Ant, thou Sluggard*." TURN on the prudent ant thy heedful eyes, Observe her labours, sluggard, and be wise: No stern command, no monitory voice, Prescribes her duties, or directs her choice; Yet, timely provident, she hastes away, To snatch the blessings of the plenteous day; When fruitful summer loads the teeming plain, She crops the harvest, and she stores the grain. How long shall Sloth usurp thy useful hours, Unnerve thy vigour, and enchain thy pow'rs; While artful shades thy downy couch inclose, And soft solicitation courts repose? Amidst the drowsy charms of dull delight, Year chases year with unremitted flight, Till want now following, fraudulent and slow, Shall spring to seize thee like an ambush'd foe. * In Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies; but now printed from the original in Dr. Johnson's own hand writing. · HORACE, Lib. IV. Ode VII. translated. THE snow, dissolv'd, no more is seen, 1 The fields and woods, behold! are green; The changing year renews the plain, The rivers know their banks again; The sprightly nymph and naked grace The mazy dance together trace; The 350 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The changing year's successive plan Proclaims mortality to man; Rough winter's blasts to spring give way, Spring yields to summer's sov'reign ray; Then summer sinks in autumn's reign, And winter chills the world again; Her losses soon the moon supplies, But wretched man, when once he lies Where Priam and his sons are laid, Is nought but ashes and a shade. Who knows if Jove, who counts our score, Will toss us in a morning more? 4 What with your friend you nobly share At least you rescue from your heir. Not you, Torquatus, boast of Rome, When Minos once has fix'd your doom, Or eloquence, or splendid birth, Or virtue, shall restore to earth. Hippolytus, unjustly slain, Diana calls to life in vain; Nor can the might of Theseus rend The chains of Hell that hold his friend. Νου. 1784. The following TRANSLATIONS, PARODIES, and BURLESQUE VERSES, most of them extempore, are taken from ANECDOTES of Dr. JOHNSON, published by Mrs. Prozzi. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 351 1 ANACREON, ODE IX. LOVELY courier of the sky, Whence and whither dost thou fly? Scatt'ring, as thy pinions play, Liquid fragrance all the way: Is it business? is it love? Tell me, tell me, gentle dove. Soft Anacreon's vows I bear, Vows to Myrtale the fair; Grac'd with all that charms the heart, Blushing nature, smiling art. Venus, courted by an ode, On the bard her dove bestow'd: Vested with a master's right, Now Anacreon rules my flight; His the letters that you see, Weighty charge, consign'd to me: Think not yet my service hard, Joyless task without reward; Smiling at my master's gates, Freedom my return awaits; But the lib'ral grant in vain Tempts me to be wild again. Can a prudent dove decline Blissful bondage such as mine? Over hills and fields to roam, Fortune's guest without a home; Under 352 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. [ J Under leaves to hide one's head, Slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed: Now my better lot bestows Sweet repast, and soft repose; Now the gen'rous bowl I sip As it leaves Anacreon's lip: Void of care, and free from dread, From his fingers snatch his bread; Then, with luscious plenty gay, Round his chamber dance and play; Or, from wine as courage springs, O'er his face extend my wings; And when feast and frolick tire, Drop asleep upon his lyre. This is all, be quick and go, More than all thou canst not know; Let me now my pinions ply, I have chatter'd like a pye. LINES Written in ridicule of certain Poems published in 1777. WHERESOE'ER I turn my view, All is strange, yet nothing new; Endless labour all along, Endless labour to be wrong; Phrase that time hath flung away, Uncouth words in disarray, 'Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, Ode, and elegy, and sonnet. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 353 PARODY of a TRANSLATION from the MEDEA Of EURIPIDES. ERR shall they not, who resolute explore Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes; And, scanning right the practices of yore, Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. They to the dome where Smoke with curling play Announc'd the dinner to the regions round, Summon'd the singer blythe, and harper gay, And aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound. The better use of notes, or sweet or shrill, By quiv'ring string or modulated wind; Trumpet or lyre-to their harsh bosoms chill Admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. Oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun, Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around; Where gloom-enamour`d Mischief loves to dwell, And Murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound. When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish, And purple nectar glads the festive hour; The guest, without a want, without a wish, Can yield no room to musick's soothing pow'r. VOL. İ. Á A 354 MICELLANEOUS POEMS. TRANSLATION Of the Two First Stanzas of the Song "Rio verde, "Rio verde," printed in Bishop PERCY'S Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. An IMPROMPTU. GLASSY water, glassy water, Down whose current, clear and strong, Chiefs confus'd in mutual slaughter, Moor and Christian roll along. IMITATION of the Style of **** HERMIT hoar, in solemn cell Wearing out life's evening grey, Strike thy bosom, sage, and tell What is bliss, and which the way. Thus I spoke, and speaking sigh'd, Scarce repress'd the starting tear, When the hoary sage reply'd, Come, my lad, and drink some beer. 1 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 355 BURLESQUE Of the following Lines of LOPEZ DE VEGA, An IMPROMPTU. SE acquien los leones vence Vence una muger hermosa O el de flaco averguençe O ella di ser mas furiosa. If the man who turnips cries, Cry not when his father dies, "Tis a proof that he had rather Have a turnip than his father. TRANSLATION Of the following Lines at the End of BARETTI's EASY PHRASEOLOGY. An IMPROMPTU. VIVA Viva la padrona! Tutta bella, e tutta buona, La padrona è un angiolella Tutta buona e tutta bella; Tutta bella e tutta buona; Viva! viva la padrona! LONG may live my lovely Hetty! Always young, and always pretty; Always pretty, always young, Live my lovely Hetty long! Always young, and always pretty, Long may live my lovely Hetty! 1 A A 2 350 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ! IMPROVISO TRANSLATION Of the following Distich on the Duke of Modena's running away from the Comet in 1742 or 1743. SE al venir vostro i principi se n' vanno Deh venga ogni dì durate un anno. Comets! come ev'ry day —and stay a year. Ir at your coming princes disappear, IMPROVISO TRANSLATION Of the following Lines of M. BENSERADE à son Lit. THEATRE des ris, et des pleurs, Lit! où je nais, et où je meurs, Tu nous fais voir comment voisins, Sont nos plaisirs, et nos chagrins. In bed we laugh, in bed we cry, And born in bed, in bed we die The near approach a bed may show Of human bliss to human woe. EPITAPH for Mr. HOGARTIE THE hand of him here torpid lies, That drew th' essential form of grace; Here clos'd in death th' attentive eyes, That saw the manners in the face.. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 357 TRANSLATION Of the following Lines written under a Print representing Persons skaiting. SUR un mince chrystal l'hyver conduit leurs pas, Le précipice est sous la glace: Telle est de nos plaisirs la legere surface: Glissez, mortels; n'appuyez pas. O'ER ice the rapid skaiter flies, With sport above, and death below; Where mischief lurks in gay disguise, Thus lightly touch and quickly go. IMPROMPTU TRANSLATION OF THE SAME. O'ER crackling ice, o'er gulphs profound, With nimble glide the skaiters play; O'er treach'rous Pleasure's flowry ground Thus lightly skim, and haste away. To Mrs. THRALE, On her completing her thirty-fifth Year. An IMPROMPTU. Orr in danger, yet alive, We are come to thirty-five; Long may better years arrive, Better years than thirty-five! Could philosophers contrive Life to stop at thirty-five, Time his hours should never drive O'er the bounds of thirty-five. A A 3 High 358 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. [ High to soar, and deep to dive, Nature gives at thirty-five. Ladies, stock and tend your hive, Trifle not at thirty-five ; For, howe'er we boast and strive, Life declines from thirty-five. He that ever hopes to thrive" Must begin by thirty-five; And all who wisely wish to wive Must look on Thrale at thirty-five. IMPROMPTU TRANSLATION Of an AIR in the CLEMENZA DE TITO of METASTASIO, beginning, "Deh se piacermi vuoi." WOULD you hope to gain my heart, Bid your teasing doubts depart; He, who blindly trusts, will find Faith from ev'ry gen'rous mind: He, who still expects deceit, Only teaches how to cheat. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 359 TRANSLATION Of a SPEECH of AQUILEIO in the ADRIANO of METASTASIO, beginning "Tu che in Corte invechiasti." GROWN old in courts, thou surely art not one Who keeps the rigid rules of antient honour; Well skill'd to soothe a foe with looks of kindness, To sink the fatal precipice before him, And then lament his fall with seeming friendship: Open to all, true only to thyself, Thou know'st those arts which blast with envious praise, Which aggravate a fault with feign'd excuses, And drive discountenanc'd virtue from the throne; That leave the blame of rigour to the prince, And of his ev'ry gift usurp the merit; That hide in seeming zeal a wicked purpose And only build upon another's ruin. i 1 A A 4 ( 300 ) ། POEMATA. MESSIA*. Ex alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo tantum versificator. SCALIG. Poet. TOLLITE Concentum, Solymææ tollite nymphæ Nil mortale loquor; coelum mihi carminis alta Materies; poscunt gravius cœlestia plectrum. Muscosi fontes, sylvestria tecta valete, Aonidesque Deæ, et mendacis somnia Pindi: Tu, mihi, qui flanma movisti pectora sancti Sidereâ Isaiæ, dignos accende furores! Immatura calens rapitur per secula vates Sic orsus-Qualis rerum mihi nascitur ordo! Virgo! virgo parit! felix radicibus arbor Jessæis surgit, mulcentesque æthera flores Cœlestes lambunt animæ, ramisque columba,. Nuncia sacra Dei, plaudentibus insidet alis. Nectareos rores, alimentaque mitia cœlum Præbeat, et tacite fœcundos irriget imbres. Huc, fœdat quos lepra, urit quos febris, adeste, Dia falutares spirant medicamina rami; Hic requies fessis; non sacra sævit in umbra Vis Boreæ gelida, aut rapidi violentia solis. Irrita vanescent prisca vestigia fraudis Justitiæque manus pretio intemerata bilancem This translation has been severely criticised by Dr. Wharton, in his edition of Pope, vol. i. p. 105. 8vo. 1797. It certainly contains some expressions that are not classical. Let it be re- membered, however, that it was a college-exercise, performed with great rapidity, and was at first praised beyond all supicion of defect. C. Attollet POEMAT A. 361 Attollet reducis; bellis prætendet olivas Compositis pax alma suas, terrasque revisens Sedatas niveo virtus lucebit amictu: Volvantur celeres anni! lux purpuret ortum Expectata diu! naturæ claustra refringens, Nascere, magne puer! tibi primaș, ecce, corollas Deproperat tellus, fundit tibi munera, quicquid Carpit Arabs, hortis quicquid frondescit Eois, Altius, en! Lebanon gaudentia culmina tollit, En! summo exultant nutantes vertice sylvæ. Mittit aromaticas vallis Saronica nubes, Et juga Carmeli recreant fragrantia cœlum. Deserti lætâ mollescunt aspera voce Auditur Deus! ecce Deus! reboantia circum Saxa sonant, Deus; ecce Deus! deflectitur æther, Demissumque Deum tellus capit; ardua cedrus, Gloria sylvarum, dominum inclinata salutet. Surgite convalles, tumidi subsidite montes! Sternite saxa viam, rapidi discedite fluctus; En! quem turba diu eccinerunt enthea, vates En! salvator adest; vultus agnoscite cæci Divinos, surdos sacra vox permulceat aures. Ille cutim spissam visus hebetare vetabit, Reclusisque oculis infundet amabile lumen; Obstrictasque diu linguas in carinina solvet Ille vias vocis pandet, flexusque liquentis Harmoniæ purgata novos mirabitur auris. Accrescunt teneris tactu nova robora nervis : Consuetus fulcro innixus reptare bacilli Nunc saltu capreas, nunc cursu provocat euros. Non planctus, non moesta sonant suspiria; pectus Singultans mulcet, lachrymantes tergit ocellos. Vincla coercebunt luctantem adamantina mortem, Æternoque 362 POEMATA. Eternoque Orci dominator vulnere languens Invalidi raptes sceptri plorabit honores. Ut qua dulce strepent scatebræ, qua lata virescunt Pascua, qua blandum spirat purissimus aer, Pastor agit pecudes, tencros modo suscipit agnos Et gremio fotis selectas porrigit herbas, Amissas modo quærit oves, revocatque vagantes; Fidus adest custos, seu nox furat horrida nimbis, Sive dies medius morientia torreat arva. Postera sic pastor divinus scela heabit, Et curas felix patrias testabitur orbis. Non ultra infestis concurrent agmina signis, Hostiles oculis flammas jaculantia torvis; Non litui accendent bellum, non campus ahenis Triste coruscabit radiis; dabit hasta recusa Vomerem, et in falcem rigidus curvabitur ensis, Atria, pacis opus, surgent, finemque caduci Natus ad optatum perducet cæpta parentis. Qui duxit sulcos, illi teret arca messem, Et scræ texent vites umbracula proli. Attoniti dumeta vident inculta coloni Suave ruberc rosis, sitientesque inter arenas Garrula mirantur salicntis murmura rivi. Per saxa, ignivomi nuper spelæa draconis, Canna viret, juncique tremit variabilis umbra. Horruit implexo qua vallis sente, figuræ Surgit amans abics teretis, buxique sequaces Artificis frondent dextræ; palmisque rubeta Aspera, odoratæ cedunt mala gramina myrto. Per valles sociata lupo lascivict agna, Cumque leone petet tutus præsepe juvencus. Florca mansuetæ petulantes vincula tigri Per ludum pueri injicient, et fessa colubri Membra 7 POEMATA. 363 Membra viatoris recreabunt frigore lingua. Serpentes teneris nil jam lethale micantes Tractabit palmis infans, motusque trisulcæ Ridebit linguæ innocuos, squamasque. virentes Aureaque admirans rutilantis fulgura cristæ. Indue reginam, turritæ frontis honores Tolle Salema sacros, quam circum gloria pennas Explicat, incinctam radiata luce tiara! En! formosa tibi spatiosa per atria, proles Ordinibus surgit densis, vitamque requirit Impatiens, lenteque fluentes increpat annos. Ecce peregrinis fervent tua limina turbis ; Barbarus en! clarum divino lumine templum Ingreditur, cultuque tuo mansuescere gaudet. Cinnameos cumulos, Nabathæi munera veris, Ecce cremant genibus trite regalibus are! Solis Ophyræis crudum tibi montibus aurum Maturant radii; tibi balsama sudat Idume. Ætheris en portas sacro fulgore micantes Cœlicolæ pandunt, torrentis aurea lucis Flumina prorompunt; non posthac sole rubesce India nascenti, placidæve argentea noctis Luna vices revehet; radios pater ipse diei Proferet archetypos; coelestis gaudia lucis Ipso fonte bibes, quæ circumfusa beatam Regiam inundabit, nullis cessura tenebris, Littora deficiens arentia deseret æquor; Sidera fumabunt, diro labefacta tremore Saxa cadent, solidique liquescent robora montis: Tu secura tamen confusa elementa videbis, Lætaque Messia semper dominabere regc, Pollicitis firmata Dei, stabilita ruinis. 304 POEMATA. [Jan. 20, 21, 1778-) VITE qui varias vices Rerum perpetuus temperat Arbiter, Læto cedere lumini Noctis tristitiam qui gelidæ jubet, Acri sanguine turgidos, Obductosque oculos nubibus humidis Sanari voluit meos. Et me, cuncta beans cui nocuit dies, Luci reddidit et mihi. Qua te laude, Deus qua prece prosequar? Sacri discipulis libri Te semper studiis utilibus colam: Grates, summe Pater, tuis Recte qui fruitur muneribus, dedit. [Dec. 25, 1779.] NUNC dies Christo memorando nato Fulsit, in pectus mihi fonte purum Gaudium sacro fluat, et benigni Christe da tutam trepido quietem, Christe, spem præsta stabilem timenti ; Da fidem certam, precibusque fidis Gratia Coeli! Annue, Christe. POEMATA. 365 [In Lecto, die Passionis. Apr. 13, 1781.] SUMME Deus, qui semper amas quodcunque creâsti; Judice quo, scelerum est poenituisse salus: Da veteres noxas animo sic flere novato, Per Christum ut veniam sit reperire mihi. : [In Lecto. Dec. 25, 1782.] SPE non inani confugis, Peccator, ad latus meum; Quod poscis, haud unquam tibi Negabitur solatium. 1 [Nocte, inter 16 et 17 Junii, 1783*.] SUMME Pater, quodcunque tuum† de corpore Nument $ Hoc statuat, precibus § Christus adesse velit: Ingenio parcas, nec sit mihi culpa rogâsse T, Qua solum potero parte, placere ** tibi. * The night above referred to by Dr. Johnson was that in which a paralytic stroke had deprived him of his voice; and, in the anxiety he felt lest it should likewise have impaired his under- standing, he composed the above Lines, and said, concerning them, that he knew at the time that they were not good, but then that he deemed his discerning this to be sufficient for the quieting the anxiety before mentioned, as it showed him that his power of judging was not diminished. +Al. tuæ. § Al. votis. ¡Al. leges. Al. statuant. ¶ Al, precari. ** Al. litare. 366 POEMAT A. [Cal. Jan. in lecto, ante lucem. 1784-1 SUMME dator vitæ, naturæ æterne magister, Causarum series quo moderante fluit, Respice quem subiget senium, morbique seniles, Quem terret vitæ meta propinqua suæ, Respice inutiliter lapsi quem pœnitet ævi; Recte ut pœniteat, respice, magne parens. PATER benigne, summa semper lenitas, Crimine gravatam plurimo mentem leva: Concede veram pœnitentiam, precor, Concede agendam legibus vitam tuis. Sacri vagantes luminis gressus face Rege, ct tuere, quæ nocent pellens procul; Veniam petenti, summe da veniam, pater; Veniæque sancta pacis adde gaudia : Sceleris ut expers omni, et vacuus inetu, Te, mente purâ, mente tranquillâ colam: Mihi dona morte hæc impetret Christus suâ. [Jan. 18, 1784.] SUMME Pater, puro collustra lumine pectus, Anxietas noceat ne tenebrosa mihi. In me sparsa manu virtutum semina larga Sic ale, proveniat messis ut ampla boni. Noctes atque dies animo spes læta recurset, Certa mihi sancto flagret amore fides. Certa POEMATA. 367 } Certa vetat dubitare fides, spes læta timere, Velle vetet cuiquam non bene sanctus amor. Da, ne sint permissa, pater, mihi præmia frustra, Et colere, et leges semper amare tuas. Hæc mihi, quo gentes, quo secula, Christe, piâsti, Sanguine, precanti promereare tuo! [Feb. 27, 1784.] MENS mea quid quereris? veniet tibi mollior hora, In summo ut videas nuinine læta patrem; Divinam insontes iram placavit Jesus; Nunc est pro poena poenituisse reis. CHRISTIANUS PERFECTUS. QUI cupit in sanctos Christo cogente referri, Abstergat mundi labem, nec gaudia carnis Captans, nec fastu tumidus, semperque futuro Instet, et evellens terroris spicula corde, Suspiciat tandem clementem in numine patrem. Huic quoque, nec genti nec sectæ noxius ulli, Sit sacer orbis amor, miseris qui semper adesse Gestiat, et, nullo pietatis limite clausus, Cunctorum ignoscat vitijs, pietate fruatur. Ardeat huic toto sacer ignis pectore, possit Ut vitam, poscat si res, impendere vero. Cura placere Deo sit prima, sit ultima, sanctæ Irruptum vitæ cupiat servare teno:em; Et 368 POEMATA. Et sibi, delirans quanquam et peccator in horas Displiceat, servet tutun sub pectore rectum : Nec natet, et nunc has partes, nunc eligat illas, Nec dubitet quem dicat herum, sed, totus in uno, Se fidem addicat Christo, mortalia temnens. Sed timeat semper, caveatque ante omnia, turba Ne stolidæ similis, leges sibi segreget audax Quas servare velit, leges quas lentus omittat, Plenum opus effugiens, aptans juga mollia collo Sponte sua demens; nihilum decedere summæ Vult Deus, at qui cuncta debit tibi, cuncta reposcit. Denique perpetuo contendit in ardua nisu, Auxilioque Dei fretus, jam mente serena Pergit, et imperiis sentit se dulcibus actum. Paulatim mores, animum, vitamque refingit, Effigiemque Dei, quantum servare licebit, Induit, et, terris major, coelestia spirat. ÆTERNE rerum conditor, Salutis æternæ dator; Felicitatis sedibus. Qui nec scelestos exigis, Quoscumque scelerum pœnitet ; Da, Christe, pœnitentiam, Veniamque, Christe, da mihi; grum trahenti spiritum Succurre præsens corpori, Multo gravatam crimine Menten benignus alleva. POEMAT A. 369 LUCE collustret mihi pectus alma, Pellat et tristes animi tenebras, Nec sinat semper tremere ac dolore, Gratia Christi: Me pater tandem reducem benigno Summus amplexu foveat, beato Me gregi sanctus socium beatum Spiritus addat. JEJUNIUM ET CIBUS. SERVIAT ut menti corpus jejunia serva, Ut mens utatur corpore, sume cibos. AD URBANUM*. 1738. URBANE, nullis fesse laboribus, Urbane, nullis victe calumniis, Cui fronte sertum in erudita Perpetuo viret, et virebit ; Quid moliatur gens imitantium, Quid et minetur, sollicitus parum, Vacare solis perge Musis, Juxta animo studiisque fœlix. Linguæ procacis plumbea spicula, Fidens, superbo frange silentio ; Victrix per obstantes catervas Sedulitas animosa tendet. Intende nervos fortis, inanibus Risurus olim nisibus emuli; Intende jam nervos, habebis Participes opera camœnas. * See Gent. Mag. Vol. VIII. p. 156; and see also the Intro- duction to Vol. LIV. VOL. I. B B Non 370 POEMAT A. Non ulla Musis pagina gratior, Quam quæ severis ludicra jungere Novit, fatigatamque nugis Utilibus recreare mentem. Texente nymphis serta Lycoride, Rosæ ruborem sic viola adjuvat Immista, sic Iris refulget Æthereis variata fucis. IN RIVUM A MOLA STOANA LICHFELDIÆ DIFFLUENTEM. ERRAT adhuc vitreus per prata virentia rivus, Quo toties lavi membra tenella puer; Hic delusa rudi frustrabar brachia motu, Dum docuit blanda voce natare pater. Fecerunt rami latebras, tenebrisque diurnis Pendula secretas abdidit arbor aquas. Nunc veteres duris periêre securibus umbræ, Longinquisque oculis nuda lavacra patent. Lympha tamen cursus agit indefessa perennis, Tectaque qua fluxit, nunc et aperta fluit. Quid ferat externi velox, quid deterat ætas, Tu quoque securus res age, Nise, tuas. ΓΝΩΘΙ ΣΕΑΥΤΟΝ*. [Post Lexicon Anglicanum auctum et emendatum.] LEXICON ad finem longo luctamine tandem Scaliger ut dixit, tenuis pertæsus opellæ, Vile indignatus studium, nugasque molestas, → See the Life of Dr. Johnson, p. 83. Ingemit POEMATA. 371 [tum, Ingemit exosus, scribendaque lexica mandat Damnatis, pœnam pro pœnis omnibus unam. Ille quidem recte, sublimis, doctus et acer, Quem decuit majora sequi, majoribus aptum, Qui veterum modo facta ducum, modo carmina va Gesserat et quicquid virtus, sapientia quicquid, Dixerat, imperiique vices, cœlique meatus, Ingentemque animo seclorum volveret orbem. Fallimur exemplis ; temere sibi turba scholarum Ima tuas credit permitti Scaliger iras. Quisque suum nôrit modulum; tibi prime, virorum Ut studiis sperem, aut ausim par esse querelis, Non mihi sorte datum; lenti seu sanguinis obsint Frigora, seu nimium longo jacuisse veterno, Sivi mihi mentem dederit natura minorem. Te sterili functum cura, vocuinque salebris Tuto eluctatum spatiis sapientia dia Excipit æthereis, ars omnis plaudit amico, Linguarumque omni terra discordia concors Multiplici reducem circum sonatore magistrum. Me, pensi immunis cum jam mihi reddor, inertis Desidiæ sors dura manet, graviorque labore Tristis et atra quies, et tarda tædia vitæ. Nascuntur curis curæ, vexatque dolorum Importuna cohors, vacuæ mala somnia mentis. Nunc clamosa juvant nocturnæ gaudia mensæ, Nunc loca sola placent; frustra te, Somne, recumbens Alme voco, impatiens noctis metuensque diei. Omnia percurro trepidus, circum omnia lustro, Si qua usquam pateat melioris semita vitæ, Nec quid agam invenio, meditatus grandia, cogo Notior ipse mihi fieri, incultumque fateri Pectus, et ingenium vano se robore jactans. B B 2 Ingenium 372 POEMAT A. Ingenium nisi materiem doctrina ministrat. Cessat inops rerum, ut torpet, si marmoris absit Copia, Phidiaci fæcunda potentia cœli. Quicquid agam, quocunque ferar, conatibus obstat Res angusta domi, et macræ penuria mentis. Non rationis opes animus, nunc parta recensens Conspicit aggestas, et se miratur in illis, Nec sibi de gaza præsens quod postulat usus Summus adesse jubet celsa dominator ab arce; Non, operum serie seriem dum computat ævi, Præteritis fruitur, lætos aut sumit honores Ipse sui judex, actæ bene munera vitæ ; Sed sua regna videns, loca nocte silentia late Horret, ubi vanæ species, umbræque fugaces, Et rerum volitant raræ per inane figuræ. Quid faciam? tenebrisne pigram damnare senectam Restat? an accingar studiis gravioribus audax? Aut, hoc si nimium est, tandem nova lexica poscam? AD THOMAM LAURENCE, MEDICUM DOCTISSIMUM, Cum filium peregre agentem desiderio nimis tristi prosequeretur FATERIS ergo, quod populus solet Crepare væcors, nil sapientiam Prodesse vitæ, literasque ; In dubiis dare terga rebus. Tu, queis laborat sors hominuun, mala, Nec vincis acer, nec pateris pius, Te mille succorum potentem Destituit medicina mentis. Per POEMATA. 373 Per cæca noctis tædia turbidæ, Pigræ per horas lucis inutiles, Torpesque, languescisque, curis Solicitus nimis heu! paternis. Tandem dolori plus satis est datum, Exurge fortis, nunc animis opus, Te, docta, Laurenti; vetustas, Te medici revocant labores. Permitte summo quiquid habes patri, Permitte fidens, et muliebribus, Amice, majorem querelis Redde tuis, tibi redde, mentem. IN THEATRO, March 8, 1771. TERTII verso quater orbe lustri, Quid theatrales tibi, Crispie pompæ? Quam decet canos male litteratos Sera voluptas! Tene mulceri fidibus canoris ? Tene cantorum modulis stupere? Tene per pictas oculo elegante Currere formas? Inter æquales, sine felle liber, Codices, veri studiosus, inter Rectius vives. Sua quisque carpat Gaudia gratus. Lusibus gaudet puer otiosis, Luxus oblectat juvenem theatri, At seni fluxo sapienter uti Tempore restat. B B 3 374 POEMATA. INSULA KENNETHI, INTER HEBRIDAS. PARVA quidem regio, sed religione priorum Clara Caledonias panditur inter aquas. Voce ubi Cennethus populos domuisse feroces Dicitur, et vanos dedocuisse deos. Huc ego delatus placido per cærula cursu, Scire locus volui quid daret iste novi. Illic Leniades humili regnabat in aula, Leniades, magnis nobilitatus avis. Una duas cepit casa cum genitore puellas, Quas Amor undaruin crederet esse deas. Nec tamen inculti gelidis latuere sub antris, Accola Danubii qualia sævus habet. Mollia non desunt vacuæ solatia vitæ Sive libros poscant otia, sive lyram. Fulserat illa dies, legis qua docta supernæ Spes hominum et curas gens procul esse jubet. Ut precibus justas avertat numinis iras Et summi accendat pectus amore boni. Ponti inter strepitus non sacri munera cultus Cessarunt, pietas hic quoque cura fuit. Nil opus est æris sacra de turre sonantis Admonitu, ipsa suas nunciat hora vices. Quid, quod sacrifici versavit foemina libros? Sint pro legitimis pura labella sacris. Quo vagor ulterius? quod ubique requiritur hic est, Hic secura quies, hic et honestus amor. POEMATA. 375 SKIA. PONTI profundis clausa recessibus, Strepens procellis, rupibus obsita, Quam grata defesso virentem, Skia, sinum nebulosa pandis! His, cura, credo, sedibus exulat ; His blanda certe pax habitat locis ; Non ira, non moror quietis Insidias meditatur horis. At non cavatâ rupe latescere, Menti nec ægræ montibus aviis Prodest vagari, nec frementes In specula numerare fluctus. Humana virtus non sibi sufficit; Datur nec æquum cuique animum sibi Parare posse, utcunque jactet Grandiloquus nimis alta Zeno. Exæstuantis pectoris impetum Rex summe, solus tu regis, arbiter; Mentisque, te tollente, fluctus ; Te, resident, moderante fluctus. ODE DE SKIA INSULA. PERMEO terras ubi nuda rupes Saxeas miscet nebulis ruinas, Torva ubi rident steriles coloni Rura labores. BB 4 Pervagor 376 POEMA TA. Pervagor gentes hominum ferorum, Vita ubi nullo decorata cultu Squallet informis, tigurîque fumis Inter erroris salebrosa longi, Foda latescit. Inter ignotæ, strepitus loquelæ, Quot modis, mecum, quid agat, requiro, Thralia dulcis? Seu viri curas, pia nupta mulcet, Seu fovet mater sobolem benigna, Sive cum libris novitate pascit Sedula mentem. Sit memor nostri, fideique solvat Fida mercedem, meritoque blandum Thraliæ discant resonare nomen SPES. Littora Skiæ. HORA Sic peragit citata cursum; Sic diem sequitur dies fugacem! Spes novas nova lux parit, secunda Spondens omnia credulis homullis; Spes ludit stolidas, metuque cæco Lux angit, miseros ludens homullos. Apr. 16, 1783. POEMATA. 377 VERSUS, COLLARI CAPRÆ DOMINI BANKS INSCRIBENDI. PERPETUI, ambitâ bis terrâ premia lactis Hæc habet, altrici capra secunda Jovis. AD FEMINAM QUANDAM GENEROSAM QUE LI- BERTATIS CAUSE IN SERMONE PATROCINATA FUERAT. LIBER ut esse velim, suasisti, pulchra Maria : Ut maneam liber, pulchra Maria, vale. JACTURA TEMPORIS. HORA perit furtim lætis, mens temporis ægra Pigritiam incusat, nec minus hora perit. QUAS navis recipit, quantum sit pondus aquarum, Dimidium tanti ponderis intret onus. QUOT vox missa pedes abit horæ parte secunda? Undecies centum denos quater adde duosque. 378 ΡΟΕΜΑ T A. Eis BIPXION*. Εἶδεν ᾿Αληθέση πρώην χαίρουσα γράφοντα Ηρώων τε βίους Βίρχιον, ἠδὲ σοφῶν, Καὶ βίον, εἶπεν, ὅταν ρίψης θανάτοιο βέλεσσι, Σοῦ πότε γραψόμενον Βίρχιον ἄλλον ἔχοις. Εἰς τὸ τῆς ἜΛΙΣΣΗΣ περὶ τῶν Ονείρων "Αινιγματ. Τῇ κάλλες δυνάμει τὶ τέλο; Ζεὺς πάν]α δεδωκεν Κύπριδι, μηδ' αὐτὲς σκῆπῖρα μέμηλε Θεῶ. Ἐκ Διὸς ἐστὶν Όναρ, θεῖός που ἔγραψεν Ὅμηρο, ᾿Αλλὰ τόδ᾽ εἰς θνητὲς Κύπρις ἔπεμψεν Ὄναρ Ζεύς μεν φλογόεντι πόλεις ἔκπερσε κεραυνῷ, Ὄμμασι λαμπρὰ Διὸς Κύπρις διστα φέρει. In ELIZA ENIGMA. Quis formæ modus imperio? Venus arrogat audax Omnia, nec curæ sunt sua sceptra Jovi. Ab Jove Mæonides descendere somnia narrat: Hæc veniunt Cypriæ somnia missa Deæ. Jupiter unus erat, qui stravit fulmine gentes; Nunc armant Veneris lumina tela Jovis. * The Rev. Dr. Thomas Birch, author of the History of the Royal Society, and other works of note. + The lady on whom these verses, and the Latin ones that immediately follow, were written, is the celebrated Mrs. Eliza- beth Carter, who translated the works of Epictetus from the Greek. POEMATA. 379 *O QUI benignus crimina ignoscis, pater Facilisque semper confitenti ades reo, Aurem faventem precibus, O præbe meis; Scelerum catenâ me laborantem gravè Æterna tandem liberet clementia, Ut summa laus sit, summa Christo gloria. PER vitæ tenebras rerumque incerta vagantein Numine præsenti me tueare pater! Me ducat lux sancta, Deus, lux sancta sequatur; Usque regat gressus, gratia fida meos. Sic peragam tua jussa libens, accinctus ad omne Mandatum, vivam sic moriarque tibi. ME, pater omnipotens, de puro respise cœlo, Quem mæstum et timidum crimina dira gravant; Da veniam pacemque mihi, da, mente serena, Ut tibi quæ placeant, omnia promptus agam. Solvi, quo Christus cunctis delicta redemit, Et pro me pretium, tu patiare, pater. *This and the three following articles are metrical version, of collects in the Liturgy; the first, of that, beginning, "O God, "whose nature and property;" the 2d and 3d, of the collects for the 17th and 21st Sundays after Trinity; and the 4th, of the 1st collect in the Communion Service. 380 POEMATA [Dec. 5, 1784*.] SUMME Deus, cui cæca patent penetralia cordis ; Quem nulla anxietas, nulla cupido fugit; Quem nil vafrities peccantum subdola celat; Omnia qui spectans, omnia ubique regis; Mentibus afflatu terrenas ejice sordes Divino, sanctus regnet ut intus amor: Eloquiumque potens linguis torpentibus affer, Ut tibi laus omni semper ab ore sonet; Sanguine quo gentes, quo secula cuncta piavit, Hæc nobis Christus promeruisse velit! PSALMUS CXVII. ANNI qua volucris ducitur orbita, Patrem cœlicolûm perpetuo colunt Quovis sanguine cretæ Gentes undique carmine. Patrem, cujus amor blandior in dies Mortales miseros servat, alit, fovet, Omnes undique gentes, Sancto dicite carmine. 1 *The day on which he received the sacrament for the last time; and eight days before his decease. POEMATA. 381 *SEU te sæva, levitas sive improba fecit, Musca, meæ comitem, participemque dapis, Pone metum, rostrum fidens immitte culullo, Nam licet, et toto prolue læta mero. Tu, quamcunque tibi velox indulserit annus, Carpe diem, fugit, heu non revocanda dies! Quæ nos blanda comes, quæ nos perducat codem, Volvitur hora mihi, volvitur hora tibi! Una quidem, sic fata volunt, tibi vivitur æstas, Eheu, quid decies plus mihi sexta dedit! Olim præteritæ numeranti tempora vitæ, Sexaginta annis non minor unus erit. ↑ HABEO, dedi quod alteri ; Habuique, quod dedi mihi; Sed quod reliqui, perdidi. *The above is a version of the song, Busy, curious, thirsty fly." These lines are a version of three sentences that are said in the manuscript to be "On the monument of John of Doncaster;" and which are as follow: What I gave that I have; What I spent that I had; What I left that I lost. 382 ΡΟΕΜΑΤΑ. *E WALTONI PISCATORE PERFECTO EXCERPTUM. NUNC, per gramina fusi, Densâ fronde salicti, Dum defenditur imber, Molles ducimus horas. Hic, dum debita morti Paulum vita moratur. → These Lines are a Translation of part of a Song in the Com- plete Angler of Isaac Walton, written by John Chalkhill, a friend of Spenser, and a good poet in his time. They are but part of the last stanza, which, that the reader may have it entire, is here given at length. If the sun's excessive heat Make our bodies swelter, To an osier hedge we get For a friendly shelter! Where in a dike, Pearch or pike, Roach or dace, We do chase, Bleak or gudgeon, Without grudging, We are still contented. Or we sometimes pass an hour Under a green willow, That defends us from a shower, Making earth our pillow; Where we may Think and pray, Before death Stops our breath: Other joys Are but toys, And to be lumented. Nune POEMATA. 383 ། Nunc rescire priora, Nunc instare futuris, Nunc summi prece sanctâ Patris numen adire est. Quicquid quæritur ultra, Cæco ducit amore, Vel spe ludit inani, Luctus mox pariturum. * QUISQUIS iter tendis, vitreas qua lucidus undas Speluncæ latè Thamesis prætendit opacæ; Marmoreâ trepidant quæ lentæ in fornice guttæ, Crystallisque latex fractus scintillat acutis; Gemmaque, luxuriæ nondum famulata nitenti Splendit, et incoquitur tectum sine fraude metallum ; Ingredere O! rerum purâ cole mente parentem; Auriferasque auri metuens scrutare cavernas. Ingredere! Egeriæ sacrum en tibi panditur antrut..! Hic, in se totum, longe per opaca futuri Temporis, Henricum rapuit vis vivida mentis: Hic pia Vindamius traxit suspiria, in ipsâ Morte memor patriæ; hic, Marmontî pectore prima Cœlestis fido caluerunt semina flammæ. Temnere opes, pretium sceleris, patriamque tueri Fortis, ades; tibi sponte patet venerabile limen. *The above Lines are a version of Pope's verses on his own grotto, which begin, “Thou who shalt stop where Thames' translucent wave.” 384 POEMATA. GRÆCORUM EPIGRAMMATUM VER- SIONES METRICE. Pag. 2. Brodæi edit. Bas. Ann. 1549. NON Argos pugilem, non me Messana creavit; Patria Sparta mihi esti, patria clara virûm. Arte valent isti, mihi robo revivere solo est, Convenit ut natis, inclyta Sparta, tuis. QUANDOQUIDEM passim nulla ratione ferentur, Cuncta cinis, cuncta et ludicra, cuncta nihil. Br. 2. Br. 5. PECTORE qui duro, crudos de vite racemos Venturi exsecuit, vascula prima meri, Labraque constrictus, semesos, jamque terendos Sub pedibus, populo prætereunte, jacit. Supplicium huic, quoniam crescentia gaudia læsit, Det Bacchus, dederat quale, Lycurge, tibi. Hæ poterant uvæ læto convivia cantu, Mulcere, aut pectus triste levare malis. Br. FERT humeris claudum validis per compita cæcus, Hic oculos socio commodat, ille pedes. POEMAT A. 385 QUI, mutare vias ausus terræque marisque, Trajecit montes nauta, fretumque pedes, Xerxi, tercentum Spartæ Mars obstitit acris Militibus; terris sit pelagoque pudor! Br. 10. Br. 11. SIT tibi, Calliope, Parnassum, cura, tenenti, Alter ut adsit Homerus, adest etenim alter Achilles. Br. 18. AD Musas Venus hæc; Veneri parete puellæ, In vos ne missus spicula tendat amor. Hæc Musæ ad Venerem; sic Marti, diva, mineris, Huc nunquam volitat debilis iste puer. PROSPERA sors nec te strepitoso turbine tollat, Nec menti injiciat sordida cura jugum ; Nam vita incertis incerta impellitur auris, Omnesque in partes tracta, retracta fluit; Firma manet virtus; virtuti innitere, tutus Per fluctus vitæ sic tibi cursus erit. Br. 19. HORA bonis quasi nunc instet suprema fruaris, Plura ut victurus secula, parce bonis : Divitiis, utrinque cavens, qui tempore parcit, Tempore divitiis utitur, ille sapit. VOL. I. C c Br. 24. 386 POEMATA. ; NUNQUAM jugera messibus onusta, aut Quos Gyges cumulos habebat auri Quod vitæ satis est, peto, Macrine, Mi, nequid nimis, est nimis probatum. NON Opto aut precibus posco ditescere, paucis Sit contenta mihi vita dolore carens. Br. 24. Br. 24. Br. 24. RECTA ad pauperiem tendit, cui corpora cordi est Multa alere, et multas ædificare domos. Br. 24. Tu neque dulce putes alienæ accumbere mensæ, Nec probrosa avidæ grata sit offa gulæ; Nec ficto fletu, fictis solvare cachinnis, Arridens domino, callacrymansque tuo. Lætior haud tecum, tecum neque tristior unquam, Sed Miliæ ridens, atque dolens Miliæ. Br. 26. NIL non mortale est mortalibus; omne quod est hi Prætereunt, aut hos præterit omne bonum. POEMATA. 387 DEMOCRITE, invisas homines majore cachinno, Br. 26. Plus tibi ridendum secula nostra dabunt. Heraclite, fluat lacrymarum crebrior imber ; Vita hominum nunc plus quod misereris habet. Interea dubito; tecum me causa nec ulla Ridere, aut tecum me lacrimare jubet. Br. 26. ELIGE iter vitæ ut possis: rixisque dolisque Perstrepit omne forum; cura molesta domi est. Rura labor lassat; mare mille pericula terrent; Verte solum, fient causa timoris opes; Paupertas misera est; multæ cum conjuge lites Tecta ineunt; cœlebs omnia solus ages. Proles aucta gravat, rapta orbat, cæca juventæ est Virtus, canities cauta vigore caret. Ergo optent homines, aut nunquam in luminis oras Venisse, aut visâ luce repente mori. ELIGE iter vitæ ut mavis, prudentia lausque Permeat omne forum; vita quieta domi est. Rus ornat natura; levat maris aspera Lucrum, Verte solum, donet plena crumena decus; Pauperies latitat, cum conjuge gaudia multa Tecta ineunt, coelebs impediere minus; CC 2 Mulcet } 388 POEMAT A. Mulcet amor prolis, sopor est sine prole profundus Præcellit juvenis vi, pietate senex. Nemo optet nunquam venisse in luminis oras, Aut periisse; scatet vita benigna bonis. Br. 27 VITA Omnis scena est ludusque, aut ludere disce Seria seponens, aut mala dura pati. Br. 27. QUÆ sine morte fuga est vitæ, quam turba malorum Non vitanda gravem, non toleranda facit? Dulcia dat natura quidem, mare, sidera terras, Lunaque quas et sol itque reditque vias. Terror inest aliis, mærorque, et siquid habebis Forte boni, ultrices experiere vices. TERRAM adii nudus, de terra nudus abibo. Quid labor efficiet? non nisi nudus ero. Br. 27. Br. 27. NATUS eram lacrymans, lacrymans e luce recedo: Sunt quibus a lacrymis vix vacat ulla dies. Tale hominum genus est, infirmum, triste, misellum, Quod mors in cineres solvit, et abdit humo. POEMATA. 389 QUISQUIS adit lectos elatâ uxore secundos, Naufragus iratas ille retentat aquas. Br. 29. FELIX ante alios nullius debitor æris, Hunc sequitur cœlebs; tertius, orbe, venis. Nec male res cessit, subito si funere sponsam Ditatus magna dote, recondis humo. His sapiens lectis, Epicurum quærere frustra Quales sint monades, quà fit inane, sinas. Br. 30. OPTARIT quicunque senex sibi longius ævum, Dignus qui multa in lustra senescat, erit. Br. 31. Cum procul est, optat, cum venit, quisque senectam, Incusat, semper spe meliora videt. " OMNIS vita nimis brevis est felicibus, una Nox miseris longi temporis instar habet. GRATIA ter grata est velox, sin forte moretur, Gratia vix restat nomine digna suo. Br. 46. Br. 55. cc 3 390 POEMAT A. Br. 56. SEU prece poscatur, seu non, da Jupiter omne, Magne, bonum, omne malum, et poscentibus abnue nobis. ME, cane vitato, canis excipit alter; eodem In me animo tellus gignit et unda feras, Nec mirum; restat lepori conscendere cœlum, Sidereus tamen hic territat, ecce canis ! Br. 60. Br. 70. TELLURI, arboribus ver frondens, sidera cœlo Græciæ et urbs, urbi est ista propago, decus. IMPIA facta patrans, homines fortasse latebis, Non poteris, meditans prava, latere Deos. Br. 75. Br. 75° ANTIOPE satyrum, Danaë aurum, Europa juvencum, Et cycnum fecit, Leda petita Jovem. POEMATA. 391 1 Evi sat novi quam sim brevis; astra tuenti, Per certas stabili lege voluta vices, Tangitur haud pedibus tellus: conviva Deorum Expleor ambrosiis exhilarorque cibis. Br. 92. Br. 96. QUOD nimium est sit ineptum, hinc, ut dixere pri- ores, Et melli nimio fellis amaror inest. Br. 103 PUPPE gubernatrix sedisti, audacia, prima Divitiis acuens aspera corda virum ; Sola rates struis infidas, et dulcis amorem Lucri ulciscendum mox nece sola doces. Aurea secla hominum, quorum spectandus ocellis E longinquo itidem pontus et orcus erat. Br. 126. DITESCIS, credo, quid restat? quicquid habebis In tumulum tecum, morte jubente, trahes? Divitias cumulas, pereuntes negligis horas, Incrementa ævi non cumulare potes. 6 C4 392 POEMATA. MATER adulantum, prolesque pecunia curæ, Teque frui timor est, teque carere dolor. Br. 126. Br. 126. ME miserum sors omnis habet; florentibus annis Pauper eram, nummis diffluit arca senis; Queis uti poteram quondam Fortuna negavit, Queis uti nequeo, nunc mihi præbet opes. Br. 127. MNEMOSYNE, ut Sappho mellita voce canentem, Audiit, irata est ne nova Musa foret. CUM tacet indoctus, sapientior esse videtur, Et morbus tegitur, dum premit ora pudor. Br. 152. Br. 155. NUNC huic, nunc aliis cedens, cui farra Menippus Credit, Achæmenidæ nuper agellus eram. Quod nulli proprium versat Fortuna, putabat Ille suum stolidus, nunc putat ille suum. POEMATA. 393 NON Fortuna sibi te gratum tollit in altum ; At docet, exemplo, vis sibi quanta, tuo. Br. 156. Br. 162. Hic, aurum ut reperit, laqueum abjicit, alter ut aurum Non reperit, nectit quem reperit, laqueum. VIVE tuo ex animo, vario rumore loquetur De te plebs audax, hic bene, et ille male. Br. 167. Br. 168. VITE rosa brevis est, properans si carpere nolis. Quærenti obveniet mox sine flore rubus. PULICIBUS morsus, restinctâ lampade, stultus Exclamat; nunc me cernere definitis. MENODOTUM pinxit Diodorus, et exit imago, Præter Menodotum, nullius absimilis. Br. 170. Br. 202. 394 POEMATA. Br. 205. HAUD lavit Phido, haud tetigit, mihi febre calenti In mentem ut venit nominis, interii. NYCTICORAX Cantat lethale, sed ipsa canenti Demophilo auscultans Nycticorax moritur. HERMEM Deorum nuncium, pennis levem, Quo rege gaudent Arcades, furem boun, Hujus palestræ qui vigil custos stetit, Clam nocte tollit Aulus, et ridens ait; Præstat magistro sæpe discipulus suo. Br. 210. Br. 212. Br. 223. Qui jacet hic, servus vixit, nunc, lumine cassus, Dario magno non minus ille potest. FUNUS Alexandri mentitur fama; fidesque Si Phœbo, victor nescit obire diem. Br. 227. Br. 241. NAUTA, quis hoc jaceat ne percontere sepulchro, Eveniat tantum metior unda tibi ! POEMATA. 395 Br. 256. CUR opulentus eges? tua cuncta in fœnore ponis. Sic aliis dives, tu tibi pauper agis. QUI pascit barbam si crescit mente, Platoni, Hirce, parem nitido tua barba facit. Br. 262. CLARUS Joannes, reginæ affinis, ab alto Sanguine Anastasii; cuncta sepulta jacent : Et pius, et recti cultor: non illa jacere Dicam; stat virtus non subigenda neci. Br. 266. CUNCTIPARENS tellus salve, levis esto pusillo Lysigeni, fuerat non gravis ille tibi. Br. 267. Br. 285. NAUFRAGUS hic jaceo; contra, jacet ecce colonus! Idem orcus terræ, sic, pelagoque subest. Br. 301. QUID salvere jubes me, pessime? Corripe gressus; Est mihi quod non te rideo, plena salus. 396 POEMATA. Br. 304. Er ferus est Timon sub terris; janitor orci, Cerbere, te morsu ne, petat ille, cave. Br. 307. VITAM a terdecimo sextus mihi finiet annus, Astra mathematicos si modo vera docent. Sufficit hoc votis, flos hic pulcherrimus ævi est, Et senium triplex Nestoris urna capit. ZOSIMA, quæ solo fuit olim corpore serva, Corpore nunc etiam libera facta fuit. Br. 322. Br. 326. ୮ EXIGUUM en! Priami monumentum; haud ille meretur Quale, sed hostiles, quale dedere manus. Br. 326. HECTOR dat gladium Ajaci, dat Balteum et Ajax Hectori, et exitio munus utrique fuit. Br. 344. Ur vis, ponte minax; modo tres discesseris ulnas, Ingemina fluctus, ingeminaque sonum. POEMAT A. 397 Br. 344. NAUFRAGUS hic jaceo; fidens tamen utere velis, Tutum aliis æquor, me pereunte, fuit. HERACLITUS ego; indoctæ ne lædite linguæ Subtile ingenium quæro, capaxque mei, Unus homo mihi pro sexcentis, turba popelli Pro nullo, clamo nunc tumulatus idem. Br. 398. Br. 399- AMBRACIOTA, vale lux alma, Cleombrotus infit, Et saltu e muro ditis opaca petit: Triste nihil passus, animi at de sorte Platonis Scripta legens, solâ vivere mente cupit. Br. 399- SERVUS, Epictetus, mutilato corpore, vixi, Pauperieque Irus, curaque summa Deûm. UNDE hic Praxiteles? nudam vidistis, Adoni, Et Pari, et Anchisa, non alius, Venerem. Br. 445- น 398 POEMAT A. Br. 451. SUFFLATO accendis quisquis carbone lucernam, Corde meo accendans; ardeo totus ego. Br. 486. JUPITER hoc templum, ut, siquando relinquit Olym- pum, Atthide non alius desit Olympus, habet. Br. 487. CIVIS et externus grati; domus hospita nescit Quærere, quis, cujus, quis pater, unde venis. POMPEII. Br. 487. CUM fugere haud possit, fractis Victoria pennis, Te manet imperii, Roma, perenne decus. LATRONES alibi locupletum quærite tecta, Assidet huic custos strenua pauperies. FORTUNE malim adversæ tolerare procellas, Quam domini ingentis ferre supercilium. Br. 488. ! POEMAT A. 399 EN, Sexto, Sexti meditatur imago, silente, Orator statua est, statuæque orator imago. PULCHRA est virginitas intacta, at vita periret, Omnes si vellent virginitate frui; Nequitiam fugiens, servatâ contrahe lege Conjugium, ut pro te des hominem patriæ. FERT humeris, venerabile onus, Cythereius heros Per Troja flammas, densaque tela, patrem. Clamat et Argivis, vetuli, ne tangite, vita Exiguum est Marti, sed mihi grande lucrum. FORMA animos hominum capit, at, si gratia desit, Non tenet; esca natat pulchra, sed hamus abest. COGITAT aut loquitur nil vir, nil cogitat uxor, Felici thalamo non, puto, rixa strepit. BUCCINA disjecit Thebarum moenia, struxit Quæ lyra, quam sibi non concinit harmonia! 400 POEMAT A. MENTE senes olim juvenis, Faustine, premebas, Nunc juvenum terres robore corda senex. Lævum at utrumque decus, juveni quod præbuit olim Turba senum, juvenes nunc tribuere seni. EXCEPTE hospitio musæ, tribuere libellos Herodoto hospitii præmia, quæque suum. STELLA mea, observans stellas, Dii me æthera faxint Multis ut te oculis sim potis aspicere. CLARA Cheroneæ soboles, Plutarche, dicavit Hanc statuam ingenio, Roma benigna, tuo. Das bene collatos, quos Roma et Græcia jactat, Ad Divos paribus passibus ire duces ; Sed similem, Plutarche, tuæ describere vitam Non poteras, regio non tulit ulla parem. 3 DAT tibi Pythagoram pictor; quod ni ipse tacere Pythagoras mallet, vocem habuisset opus. POEMATA. 401 } PROLEM Hippi et sua quâ meliorem secula nullum Videre, Archidicen hæc tumulavit humus; Quam, regum sobolem, nuptanı, matrem, atque sororem Fecerunt nulli sors titulique gravem. CECROPIDIS gravis hic ponor, Martique dicatus, Quo tua signantur gesta, Philippe, lapis. Spreta jacet Marathon, jacet et Saliminia laurus, Omnia dum Macedûm gloria et arma premunt. Sint Demosthenicâ ut jurata cadavera voce, Stabo illis qui sunt, quique fuere, gravis. FLORIBUS in pratis, legi quos ipse, coronam Contextam variis, do, Rhodoclea, tibi: Hic anemone humet, confert narcissus odores Cum violis; spirant lilia mista rosis. His redimita comas, mores depone superbos, Hæc peritura nitent; tu peritura nites! MUREM Asclepiades sub tecto ut vidit avarus, Quid tibi, mus, mecum, dixit, amice, tibi? Mus blandum ridens, respondit, pelle timorem; Hic, bone vir, sedem, non alimenta, peto. VOL. I. D D } 402 POEMATA. SÆPE tuum in tumulum lacrymarum decidit imber Quem fundit blando junctus amore dolor; Charus enim cunctis, tanquam, dum vita manebat, Cuique esses natus, cuique sodalis, eras. Heu quam dura preces sprevit, quan surda querelas Parca, juventutem non miserata tuam! ARTI ignis lucem tribui, tamen artis et ignis. Nunc ope, supplicii vivit imago mei. เ Gratia nulla hominum mentes tenet, ista Promethei Munera muneribus, si retulere fabri. ILLA triumphatrix Graiûm consueta procorum Ante suas agmen Lais habere fores, Hoc Veneri speculum; nolo me cernere qualis Sum nunc, nec possum cernere qualis eram. CRETHIDA fabellas dulces garrire peritam Prosequitur lacrymis filia mosta Sami; Plandam lanifici sociam sine fine loquacem, Quam tenet hic, cunctas quæ manet, alta quies. DICITE, Causidici, gelido nunc marmore magni Mugitum tumulus comprimit Amphiloci. POEMATA. 403 1 Si forsan tumulum quo conditur Eumarus aufers Nil lucri facies; ossa habit et cinerem. EPICTETI ME, rex deorum, tuque, duc, necessitas, Quo, lege vestrâ, vita me feret mea. Sequar libenter, sin reluctari velim, Fiam scelestus, nec tamen minus sequar. E THEOCRITO. POETA, lector, hic quiescit Hipponax, Si fis scelestus, præteri, procul, marmor : At te bonum si nôris, et bonis natum, Tutum hic sedile, et si placet, sopor tutus. EUR. MED. 193-203. NON immerito culpanda venit Proavûm væcors insipientia, Qui convivia lautasque dapes Hilarare suis jussere modis Cantum, vitæ dulce levamen. At nemo feras iras hominum, Domibus claris exitiales, Voce aut fidibus pellere docuit DD 2 Queis 404 POEMATA. Queis tamen aptam ferre medelam Utile cunctis hoc opus esset; Namque, ubi mensas onerant epulæ, Quorsum dulcis luxuria soni? Sat lætitiâ sine subsidiis, Pectora molli mulcet dubiæ Copia cœnæ. Τοῖος Άρης βροτολοιγὸς ἐνὶ πολέμοισι μέμηνε · Και τοῖος, Παφίην πλῆξεν ἔρωτι Θεάν. The above is a Version of a Latin Epigram on the famous John Duke of Marlborough by the Abbé Salvini, which is as follows: Haud alio vultu, fremuit Mars acer in armis : Haud alio, Cypriam percurit ore Deam. The Duke was, it seems, remarkably handsome in his person, to which the second line has reference- SEPTEM ÆTATES. PRIMA parit terras ætas, siccatque secunda, Evocat Abramum dein tertia; quarta relinquit Ægyptum; templo Solomonis quinta supersit; Cyrum sexta timet; lætatur septima Christo. A ތ POEMATA. 405 * HIS Tempelmanni numeris descripseris orbem, Cum sex centuriis Judæo millia septem. 2 Myrias Ægypto cessit bis septima pingui. Myrias adsciscit sibi nonagesima septem Imperium qua Turca 3 ferox exercet iniquum. Undecies binas decadas et millia septem 4 Sortitur + Pelopis tellus quæ nomine gaudet. Myriadas decies septem numerare jubebit Pastor Arabs: decies octo sibi Persa + requirit. Myriades sibi pulchra duas, duo millia poscit 4 4 Par- *To the above Lines (which are unfinished, and can there- fore be only offered as a fragment), in the Doctor's manuscript, are prefixed the words, "Geographia Metrica." As we are re- ferred, in the first of the verses, to Templeman, for having furnished the numerical computations that are the subject of them, his work has been accordingly consulted, the title of which is, "A new Survey of the Globe," and which professes to give an accurate mensuration of all the empires, kingdoms, and other divisions thereof, in the square miles that they respectively con- tain. On comparison of the several numbers in these verses with those set down by Templeman, it appears that nearly half of them are precisely the same; the rest are not quite so exactly done.- For the convenience of the Reader, it has been thought right to subjoin each number, as it stands in Templeman's works, to that in Dr. Johnson's verses which refers to it. In this first article that is versified, there is an accurate con- formity in Dr. Johnson's number to Templeman's; who sets down the square miles of Palestine at 7,600. 2 The square miles of Egypt are, in Templeman, 140,700. ³ The whole Turkish empire, in Templeman, is computed at 960,057 square miles. * In the four following articles, the numbers, in Templeman and 406 POEMAT A. 5 Parthenope4. Novies vult tellus mille Sicana. "Papa suo regit imperio ter millia quinque. Cum sex centuriis numerat sex millia Tuscus". 8 Centuriâ Ligures augent duo millia quartâ. Centuria octavam decadem addit Lucca' secundæ. Ut dicas, spatiis quam latis imperet orbi 10 Russia, myriadas ter denas adde trecentis : "Sardiniam cum sexcentis sex millia complent. Cum sexagenis, dum plura recluserit ætas, Myriadas ter mille homini dat terra¹ colendas. Vult sibi vicenas millesima myrias addi, Vicenis quinas, Asiam "3 metata celebrem. 13 Se quinquagenis octingentesima jungit Myrias, ut menti pateat tota Africa ¹4 doctæ. Myriadas septem decies Europa" ducentis Et quadragenis quoque ter tria millia jungit. Myriadas and in Johnson's verses are alike.-We find, accordingly, the Morea, in Templeman, to be set down at 7,220 square miles— Arabia, at 700,000-Persia, at 800,000-and Naples, at 22,000. 5 Sicily, in Templeman, is put down at 9,400. The Pope's dominions, at 14,868. Tuscany, at 6,640. $ Genoa, in Templeman, as in Johnson likewise, is set down at 2,400. 9 Lucca, at 286. 10 The Russian empire, in the 29th plate of Templeman, is set down at 3,303,485 square miles. "Sardinia, in Templeman, as likewise in Johnson, 6,600. 1 The habitable world, in Templeman, is computed, in square miles, at 30,666,806 square miles. 13 Asi., at 10,257,487. 14 Africa, at 8,506,208. 15 Europe, at 2,749,349. A C POEMAT A. 407 Myriadas denas dat, quinque et millia, sexque Centurias, et tres decadas Europa Britannis ". Ter tria myriadi conjungit millia quarte, Centuriæ quartæ decades quinque " Anglia nectit Millia myriadi septem fœcunda secundæ Et quadragenis decades quinque addit Ierne 18 Quingentis quadragenis socialis adauget Millia Belga" novem. Ter sex centurias Hollandia" jactat opima Undecimum Camber 19 vult septem millibus addi. 16 The British dominions, at 105,634. 17 England, as likewise in Johnson's expression of the number, at 49,450. 18 Ireland, at 27,457. 19 In the three remaining instances, which make the whole that Dr. Johnson appears to have rendered into Latin verse, we find the numbers exactly agreeing with those of Templeman; who makes the square miles of the United Provinces, 9,540—of the province of Holland, 1,800-and of Wales, 7,011. ** END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. London: Printed by Luke Hansard & Sons, near Lincoln's-Inn Fields. DO NOT CIRCULATE A ; G 2 } 2 7 ì • | } 2 1 1 : UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 3 9015 00916 2283 A 698,016 DUPL > 1 j.