infpired poetry, and poetry exalted devotion; the moft fublime capacities were put to the most noble ufe; purity of will, and fineness of understanding were not fuch ftrangers as they have been in latter ages, but were most frequently lodged in the fame breast, and went, as it were, hand in hand, to the glory of the world's great Ruler, and the benefit of mankind. To reclaim our modern poetry, and turn it into it's due and primitive channel, is an endeavour altogether worthy a far greater character than the Guardian of a private family. Kingdoms might be the better for the converfion of the mufes from fenfuality to natural religion, and princes on their thrones might be obliged and protected by it's power.

Were it modeft, I fhould profefs myfelf a great admirer of Poefy; but that profeffion is in effect telling the world that I have a heart tender and generous, a heart that can fwell with the joys, or be depreffed with the misfortunes, of others; nay more, even of imaginary perfons; a heart large enough to receive the greatest ideas nature can fuggeft, and delicate enough to relifh the mott beautiful: it is defiring mankind to believe that I am capable of entering into all thofe fubtle graces, and all that divine elegance, the enjoyment of which is to be felt only, and not expreffed.

All kinds of Poety are amiable, but Sacred Poefy fhould be our most efpecial delight: other poetry leads us through flowery meadows or beautiful gardens, refreshes us with cooling breezes or delicious fruits, foothes us with the murmur of waters or the melody of birds, or elfe conveys us to the court or camp; dazzles our imagination with crowns and fcepters, embattled hofts, or heroes hining in burnished teel; but Sacred Numbers feem to admit us into a folemn and magnificent temple, they encircle us with every thing that is holy and divine, they fuperadd an agreeable awe and reverer.ce to all thofe pleafing emotions we feel from other lays; an . awe and reverence that exalts, while it chafifes: it's fweet authority reftrains each undue liberty of thought, word, and action; it makes us think better and more nobly of ourselves, from a confcioufnefs of the great Prefence we are in, where faints furround us, and angels are our fellow-worshippers.

And can it, powers immortal, can it be, That this high province was referv'd for me? Whate'er the new, the rash adventure caft, In wide eternity I dare be loft. I dare launch out, and fhew the mufes more, Than e'er the learned fifters faw before. In narrow limits they were wont to fing, To teach the fwain, or celebrate the king: I grafp the whole, no more to parts confin'd, lift my voice, and fing to human-king: 1 fing to men and angels; angels join (While fuch the theme) their facred hymns with mine.

But befides the greater pleasure which we receive from Sacred Poefy, it has another vast advantage above all other; when it has placed us in that imaginary 'temple, (of which I just now spoke) methinks the mighty genius of the place covers us with an invifible hand, fecures us in the enjoyments we poffefs. We find a kind of refuge in our pleafure, and our diverfion becomes our fafely. Why then fhould not every heart that is addicted to the Mufes, cry out in the holy warmth of the beft poet that ever livedI will magnify thee, O Lord, my king; and I will praife thy name for ever ⚫ and ever."

That greater benefit may be reaped from Sacred Poefy than from any other is indifputable. But is it capable of yielding fuch exquifite delight? Has it a title only to the regard of the ferious and aged? Is it only to be read on Sundays, and to be bound in black? Or does it put in for the good esteem of the gay, the fortunate, the young? Can it rival. a ball or a theatre, or give pleasure to those who are converfant with beauty, and have their palates fet high with all the delicacies and poignancy of human wit?

That poetry gives us the greateft pleafure which affects us moft, and that affects us moft which is on a fubject in which we have the deepeft concern; for this reafon, it is a rule in epic poetry, that the tale fhould be taken from the history of that country to which it is written, or at farthest from their distant ancestors. Thus Homer fung Achilles to the defcendants of Achilles; and Virgil to Auguftus that hero's voyage

-Genus unde Latinum

Albanique patres, atque altæ mænia Roma. EN. 1. v. 6.

From whence the race of Alban fathers come, And the long glories of majestic Rome. DRYDEN.

Had they changed fubjects, they had certainly been worfe poets at Greece and Rome, whatever they had been esteemed by the rest of mankind; and in what fubjects have we the greatest concern, but in thofe at the very thought of which This world grows lefs and lefs, and 'all it's gloties fade away?'

All other poefy must be dropt at the gate of death; this alone can enter with us into immortality; it will admit of an improvement only, not, ftrictly speaking, an entire alteration from the converfe of Cherubim and Seraphim: it fhall not be forgotten when the fun and moon are remembered no more; it fhall never die, but (if I may fo exprefs myfelf) be the measure of eternity, and the laudable ambition of Heaven.

How then can any other poefy come in competition with it?

Whatever great or dreadful has been done,
Within the view of confcious stars or fun,
Is far beneath my daring! I look down
On all the fplendors of the British crown;
This globe is for my verfe a narrow bound:
Attend me, all ye glorious worlds around;
Oh, all ye fpirits, howfoe'er disjoin'd,
Of every various order, place, and kind;
Hear and affift a feeble mortal's lays;
'Tis your Eternal King i ftrive to praife.

These verses, and those quoted above, are taken out of a manufcript poem on the Last Day, which will fhortly appear in public.

SIR,

TO THE GUARDIAN.

WHEN you fpeak of the good which

would arife from the labours of ingenious men, if they could be prevailed upon to turn their thoughts upon the fublime fubiects of religion, it should, methinks, be an attractive to them, if you would pleafe to lay before them, that noble ideas aggrandize the foul of him who writes with a true taste of virtue. I was just now reading David's lamentation over Saul and Jonathan, and that divine piece was peculiarly pleating to me, in that there was fuch an exqui

fite forrow expreffed in it, without the leait allufion to the difficulties from whence David was extricated by the fall of thofe great men in his way to empire. When he receives the tidings of Saul's death, his generous mind has in it no reflection upon the merit of the unhappy man who was taken out of his way, but what raises his forrow, inftead of giving him confolation.

The beauty of Ifrael is flain upon thy high places! how are the mighty • fallen!

Tell it not in Gath, publifh it not in the streets of Afkelon: left the daugh'ters of the Philiftines rejoice, left the daughters of the uncircumcifed triumph.

Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the fhield of the mighty is vilely caft away, the fhield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil.

Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleafant in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided: they were fwifter than eagles, they were ftronger than lions.

Ye daughters of Ifrael, weep over Saul, who cloathed you in fcarlet, with other delights, who put on ornaments of gold upon your apparel.'

How beautiful is the more amiable and noble parts of Saul's character reprefented by a man whom that very Saul purfued to death! But when he comes to mention Jonathan, the fublimity ceases, and, not able to mention his generous friendship, and the moft noble inftances ever given by man, he finks into a fondnefs that will not admit of high language or allufions to the greater circumtances of their life, and turns only upon their familiar converse.

I am diftreffed for thee, my brother Jonathan; very pleafant haft thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, paffing the love of women.'

In the mind of this admirable man, grandeur, majefty, and worldly power, were defpicable confiderations, when he caft his eye upon the merit of him who was fo fuddenly fnatched from them: and when he began to think of the great friendship of Jonathan, his panegyric is uttered only in broken exclamations, and tender expreflions of how much they

both

Shall not affume to myself the merit of every thing in thefe papers. Wherefoever, in reading or converfation, I obferve any thing that is curious and uncommon, useful or entertaining, I refolve to give it to the public. The greatest part of this very paper is an extract from a French manufcript, which was lent me by my good friend Mr. Charwell; he tells me he has had it about these twenty years in his poffeffion; and he feems to me to have taken from it very many of the maxims he has purfued in the new fettlement, I have heretofore fpoken of, upon his lands. He has given me full liberty to make what ufe of it I fhall think fit; either to publish it entire, or to retail it out by pennyworths. I have determined to retail it, and for that end I have tranflated divers paffages, rendering the words Livre, Sous, and many others of known fignification in France, into their equivalent fenfe, that I may the better be underftood by my Englife readers. The book contains feveral memoirs concerning Monfieur Colbert, who had the honour to be fecretary of ftate to His Moft Chriftian Majefty, and fuperintendant or chief director of the arts and manufactures of his kingdom. The paffage for to-day is as follows.

your majefty's glory, and the profperi ty of your whole people. Your territories are vastly greater than the United Netherlands; but, Sir, it is ́ ́not land that fights against land, but the ftrength and riches of one nation against the ftrength and riches of another. I fhould have faid only riches, fince it is money that feeds and cloaths the foldier, furnishes the magazine, provides the train of artillery, and anfwers the charge of all other military preparations. Now the riches of a prince or itate are juft fo much as they 'can levy upon their fubjects, still leav'ing them fufficient for their fubfiftence.

If this fhall not be left, they will de⚫fert to other countries for better usage; and I am forry to fay it, that too many of your majesty's fubjects are already among your neighbours in the condition of footmen and valets for their daily bread; many of your artifans too are fled from the feverity of your 'collectors, they are at this time improving the manufactures of your enemies. France has loft the benefit of their hands for ever, and your ma jefty all hopes of any future excifes by their confumption. For the extraordinary fums of one year, you have parted with an inheritance. I am never able, without the utmost indignation, to think of that minifter, who had the 'confidence to tell your father his fubjects were but too happy, that they 'were 'not yet reduced to eat grafs: as if ftarving his people were the only way to free himfelf from their feditions. But people will not ftarve in France, as long as bread is to be had in any other country. How much more worthy of a prince was that faying of your grandfather of glorious C memory, that he hoped to fee that day, when every houfekeeper in his dominions fhould be able to allow his fa

mily à capon for their Sunday's fup'per? I lay down this, therefore, as my firft principle, that your taxes upon your fubjects must leave them fufhOcient for their fubfiftence, at least as 'comfortable a fubfiftence as they will find among your neighbours.

Upon this principle I fhall be able to make fome comparifon between the revenues of your majefty and thofe of 'the States-General. Your territories

are near thirty times as great, your people more than four times as many; yet your revenues are not thirty, no nor four times as great, nor indeed as great again, as thofe of the United Netherlands.

where

In what one article are you able to raife twice as much from your fubjects as the States can do from theirs? Can you take twice as much from the rents of the lands and houfes? What are the yearly rents of your whole kingdom? And how much of these will your majefty be able to take without ruining the landed intereft? You 'have, Sir, above a hundred millions of acres, and not above thirteen millions of fubjects, eight acres to every fubjeft; how inconfiderable must be the ' value of land, where fo many acres are to provide for a fingle perfon? a fingle perfon is the whole market for the product of fo much land? 'And what fort of customers are your fubjects to these lands? What cloaths is it that they wear? What provifions do they confume? Black bread,onions, and other roots, are the ufual diet of the generality of your people; their common drink the pure element; they are dreffed in canvas and wooden fhoes, I mean fuch of them as are not bare-foot and half naked. How very 'mean must be the eight acres which will afford no better fubfiftence to a fingle perfon? Yet fo many of your people live in this defpicable manner, that four pounds will be eafily believed to exceed the annual expences of every one of them at a medium. And how little of this expence will be coming to the land-owner for his rent? or, which is the fame thing, for the mere product of his land? Of every thing that is confumed, the greateft part of the value is the price of labour that is beftowed upon it; and it is not a very fall part of their price that is paid to your majefty in your excites.

Of the four pounds expence of every fubject, it can hardly be thought that more than four and twenty fhillings are paid for the mere product of the land. Then if there are eight acres to every fubject, and every fubject for his confumption pays no more than four and twenty fillings to the land, three fhillings at a medium must be the full yearly value of every acre in your kingdom. Your lands feparated from the buildings cannot be valued higher.

And what then shall be thought the yearly value of the houfes, or, which is the fame thing, of the lodgings of 6 your thirteen millions of fubjects? What numbers of thefe are begging their bread throughout your kingdom? If your majefty were to walk incognito through the very treets of your capital, and would give a farthing to every beggar that afks you alms in a 'walk of one hour, you would have nothing left of a piftole. How miferable must be the lodgings of thefe wretches? Even thofe that will not afk your charity are huddled together four or five families in a houfe. Such is the lodging in your capital. That ' of your other towns is yet of lefs value; but nothing can be more ruinous than the cottages in the villages. Six 'fhillings for the lodging of every one of your thirteen millions of fubje&s at a medium, muft needs be the full yearly value of all the houses. So that at four fhillings for every acre, and fix fhillings for the lodging of every fubject, the rents of your whole kingdom will be lefs than twenty millions, and yet a great deal more than they were ever yet found to be by the molt exact furvey that has been taken.

The next question then is, how much of thefe rents your majefty will think fit to take to your own uie. Six of the twenty millions are in the hands of the clergy; and little enough for the fupport of three hundred thoufand ecclefiaftics, with all their neceffary attendants; it is no more than twenty pounds a year for every one of the mafters. Thefe, Sir, are your best guards; they keep your fubjects loyal in the midit of all their mifery. Your majefty will not think it your i to take any thing from the church. From that which remains in the hands

rintereft

of your lay-fubjects, will you be able

P

to take more than five millions to your own ufe? This is more than feven fhillings in the pound; and then, after neceffary reparations, together with loffes by the failing of tenants, how very little will be left to the ⚫ owners? These are gentlemen, who have never been bred either to trade or manufactures, they have no other way of living than by their rents; and, when these fhall be taken from them, they must fly to your armies, as to an hofpital, for their daily bread.

Now, Sir, your majefty will give me leave to examine what are the rents of the United Netherlands, and how great a part of these their governors may take to themselves without oppreffion of the owners. There are in thofe provinces three millions of acres, and as many millions of fubje&s; a fubject for every acre. Why fhould not then the fingle acre there be as valuable as the eight acres in France, fince it is to provide for as many mouths? Or if great part of the provifions of the people are fetched in by their trade from the fea or foreign countries, they will end at laft in the improvement of their lands. I have often heard, and am ready to believe, that thirty fhillings, one with another, is less than the yearly value of every acre in those provinces.

And how much lefs than this will be the yearly value of lodging, for every one of their fubjects? There are no beggars in their streets, fcarce a fingle one in a whole province. Their families in great towns are lodged in palaces, in comparison with those of Paris: even the houfes in their villages

are more coftly than in many of your cities. If fuch is the value of their three millions of acres, and of lodging for as many millions of fubjects, the yearly rents of lands and houfes are nine millions in thofe provinces.

Then how much of this may the States take without ruining the landowners, for the defence of their people? Their lands there, by the custom of defcending in equal shares to all the children, are diftributed into fo many hands, that few or no perfons are fubfifted by their rents; land-owners, as well as others, are chiefly fubfifted by trade and manufactures; and they can therefore with as much eafe part with half of their whole rents, as your ma

jefty's fubjects can a quarter. The States-General may as well take four millions and a half from their rents, as your majefty can five from thofe of your fubjects.

• It remains now only to compare the excises of both countries. And what excifes can your majefty hope to receive by the confumption of the halfftarved and half-naked beggars in your ftreets? How great a part of the price ⚫ of all that is eat or drunk, or confumed by those wretched creatures? How great a part of the price of canvas cloth and wooden fhoes, that are every where ⚫ worn throughout the country? How great a part of the price of their water, or their black bread and onions, the general diet of your people? If your majesty were to receive the whole price of thofe things, your exchequer ' would hardly run over. Yet fo much the greatest part of your fubjects live in this defpicable manner, that the annual expence of every one at a medium can be no more than I have mentioned. One would almoft think they ftarve themselves to defraud your majesty of your revenues. It is impoffible to ⚫ conceive that more than an eighth part can be excifed from the expences of your fubjects, who live fo very poorly; and then for thirteen millions of people, your whole revenue by excifes will amount to no more than fix millions and a half.

And how much less than this fum will the States be able to levy by the fame tax upon their fubjects? There are no beggars in that country. The people of their great towns live at a vaftly greater charge than yours. And even thofe in their villages are better fed and cloathed than the people of your towns. At a medium, every one of their fubiects live at twice the coft of thofe of France. Trade and manufactures are the things that furnish, them with money for this expence. Therefore if thrice as much shall be excifed from the expence of the Hollanders, yet ftill they will have more left than the fubjects of your majesty, though you should take nothing at all from them. I must believe, therefore, that it will be as eafy to levy thrice as much by excifes upon the Dutch fubject as the French, thirty fhillings upon the former, as cafily as ten upon the latter, and confequently four mil

• lions