Like what she likes, from thence your court begin,
And whom she favours wish that he may win."

'Again, page the sixteenth.

"O when will come the day by heaven design'd,
When thou, the best and fairest of mankind,
Drawn by white horses, shalt in triumph ride,
With conquer'd slaves attending on thy side;
Slaves that no longer can be safe in flight?
O glorious object! O surprising sight!
O day of public joy, too good to end in night!
On such a day, if thou and next to thee
Some beauty sits, the spectacle to see;
If she inquires the names of conquer'd kings,
Of mountains, rivers, and their hidden springs;
Answer to all thou know'st; and, if need be,
Of things unknown seem to speak knowingly :
This is Euphrates, crown'd with reeds: and there
Flows the swift Tigris, with his sea-green hair.
Invent new names of things unknown before;
Call this Armenia, that the Caspian shore;
Call this a Mede, and that the Parthian youth;
Talk probably; no matter for the truth."

No. 603. WEDNESDAY, OCT. 6, 1714.

Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim

-Restore, my charms,

VIRG. Ecl. viii. 6.

My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.

DRYDEN.

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

*The Phoebe of this admired pastoral, was Joanna, the daughter of the very learned Dr. Richard Bentley, archdeacon and prebendary of Ely, regius professor and master of Trinity college, Cambridge, who died in 1742. She was af

6

I.

My time, O ye Muses, was happily spent,
When Phoebe went with me wherever 1 went;
Ten thousand sweet pleasures I felt in my breast:
Sure never fond shepherd like Colin was blest;
But now she is gone, and has left me behind,
What a marvellous change on a sudden I find!
When things were as fine as could possibly be,
I thought 'twas the spring, but, alas! it was she.

II.

With such a companion, to tend a few sheep,
To rise up and play, or to lie down and sleep,
I was so good-humour'd, so cheerful and gay,
My heart was as light as a feather all day.
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown,
So strangely uneasy as never was known.

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

III.

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

Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.

IV.

"When my lambkins around me would oftentimes play,
And when Phoebe and I were as joyful as they,
How pleasant their sporting, how happy their time,
When spring, love, and beauty, were all in their prime!
But now in their frolics when by me they pass,

I fling at their fleeces a handful of grass:

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

V.

'My dog I was ever well pleased to see Come wagging his tail to my fair-one and me;

terwards married to Dr. Dennison Cumberland, bishop of Clonfert in Killaloe in Ireland, and grandson of Dr. Richard Cumberland, bishop of Peterborough.

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

VI.

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

VII.

'Sweet music went with us both all the wood thro', The lark, linnet, throstle, and nightingale too; Winds over us whisper'd, flocks by us did bleat, And chirp went the grashopper under our feet. But now she is absent, though still they sing on, The woods are but lonely, the melody's gone: Her voice in the concert, as now I have found, Gave every thing else its agreeable sound.

VIII.

'Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught of its sweetness the blossom beguile?
That meadow, those daisies, why do they not smile?
Ah! rivals, I see what it was that you dress'd

And made yourselves fine for; a place on her breast:
You put on your colours to pleasure her eye,
To be pluck'd by her hand, on her bosom to die.

IX.

How slowly time creeps, till my Phœbe return! While amidst the soft zephyr's cool breezes I burn! Methinks if I knew where about he would tread,

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

lead,

Fly swfter, ye minutes, bring hither my dear,

And rest so much longer for't when she is here.

Ah, Colin! old Time is full of delay,

Nor will budge one foot faster for all thou canst say.

X.

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

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

No. 604. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1714.

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

Tentáris numeros

Ah, do not strive too much to know,

My dear Leuconoe,

What the kind gods design to do,

With me and thee.

HOR. 1 Od. xi. 1.

CREECH.

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

If we consider that we are free-agents, we shall discover the absurdity of such inquiries. One

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

It is not unworthy observation, that superstitious inquiries into future events prevailed more or less, in proportion to the improvement of liberal arts and useful knowledge in the several parts of the world. Accordingly, we find that magical incantations remain in Lapland; in the more remote parts of Scotland they have their second sight; and several of our own countrymen have seer. abundance of fairies. In Asia this credulity is strong and the greatest part of refined learning there consists in the knowledge of amulets, talismans, occult numbers, and the like.

When I was at Grand Cairo I fell into the acquaintance of a good-natured mussulman, who promised me many good offices which he designed to do me when he became prime minister, which was a fortune bestowed on his imagination by a doctor very deep in the curious sciences. At his repeated solicitations I went to learn my destiny of this wonderful sage. For a small sum I had his promise, but was desired to wait in a dark apartment until he had run through the prepara.