warnish and glaze it at your leifure, and polifh the fticks as much as you can. You may then cause it to be borne in the hands of both fexes, no lefs in Britain than it is in China; where it is ordinary for a Mandarine to fan himself cool after a debate, and a Statesman to hide his face with it when he tells a grave lye.

I am, &c.

JELCOME to your native foil!* welcome to your friends thrice welcome to me! whether returned inglory, bleft with court intereft, the love and familiarity of the great, and filled with agreeable hopes; or melancholy with dejection, contemplative of the changes of fortune, and doubtful for the future: Whether returned a triumphant Whig, or a defponding Tory, equally all hail! equally beloved and welcome to me! If happy, I am to partake in your elevation: if unhappy you have still a warm corner in my heart, and a retreat at Binfield in the worft of times at your fervice. If you are a Tory, or thought fo by any man, I know it can proceed from nothing but your gratitude to a few people who endeavoured to ferve you, and whofe politics were never your concern. If f you are a Whig, as I rather hope, and as I think, your principles and mine (as brother poets) had ever a bias to the fide of liberty, I know you will be an honeft man and an inoffenfive one. Upon the whole, I know you are incapable of being so much of either party as to be good for nothing. Therefore once more, whatever you are, or in whatever ftate you are, all hail!

One or two of your old friends complain'd they had heard nothing from you fince the Queen's death; I told them no man living lov'd Mr. Gay better than I, yet I had not once written to him in all his voyage. This I thought a convincing proof, how truly one may be a friend to another without telling him fo every month. But they had reafons to themselves to allege in your excufe; as men who really value one another, will never want fuch as make their friends and themselves eafy. The late univerfal concern

In the beginning of this year Mr. Gay went over to Earl of Clarendon, who was fint thither by Queen Anne returned to England; and it was on this occafion that Mr this friendly welcome.

Hanover with the On ber death they Pope mat him with

in public affairs, threw us all into a hurry of spirits : even I, who am more a philofopher than to expect any thing from any Reign, was bornc away with the current, and full of the expectation of the Succeffor. During your journey I knew not whither to aim a letter after you; that was a fort of shooting flying: add to this, the demand Homer had upon me, to write fifty verfes a day, befides learned notes, all which are at a conclufion for this year. Rejoice with me, O my Friend, that my labour is over; come and make merry with me in much feafting: We will feed among the lilies (by the lilies I mean the Ladies.) Are not the Rofalindas of Britain as charming as the Bloufalindas of the Hague? or have the two great Paftoral poets of our nation renounced love at the fame time? for Philips, immortal Philips, hath deferted, yea, and in a ruftic manner, kicked his Rofalinda. Dr. Parnell and I have been infeparable ever fince you went. We are now

at the Bath, where (if you are not, as I heartily hope, better engaged) your coming would be the greateft pleafure to us in the world. Talk not of expences: Homer fhall fupport his children. I beg a line from you directed to the Poft-houfe in. Bath. Poor Parnell is in an ill ftate of health.

Pardon me if I add a word of advice in the poetical way. Write fomething on the King, or Prince, or Princess. On whatsoever foot you may be with the court, this can do no harm.-I fhall never know where to end, and am confounded in the many things I have to fay to you, though they all amount but to this, that I am entirely as Your, &c.

ever,

I

LETTER V.

London, Nov. 8, 1717.

Am extremely glad to find by a Letter of yours to Mr. Fortefcue, that you have received one from me; and I beg you to keep, as the greateft of curiofities, that letter of mine which you received, and I never writ.

But the truth is, that we were made here to expect you in a fhort time, that was upon the ramble moft part of the Summer, and have concluded the season in grief, for the death of my poor father.

I fhall not enter into a detail of my concerns and troubles, for two reafons; becaufe I am really afflicted and need no airs of grief, and because they are not the con

cerns

cerns and troubles of any but myfelf. But I think you (without too great a compliment) enough my friend, to be pleased to know he died eafily, without a groan, or the fickness of two minutes; in a word, as filently and peacefully as he lived.

Sic mihi contingat vivere, ficque mori !

I am not in the humour to fay gay things, nor in the affectation of avoiding them. I can't pretend to entertain either Mr. Pultney or you, as you have done both my Lord Burlington and me, by your letter to Mr. Lowndes I am only forry you have no greater quarrel to Mr. Lowndes, and wish you paid fome hundreds a year to the land-tax. That gentleman is lately become an inoffenfive perfon to me too: fo that we may join heartily in our addreffes to him, and (like true patriots) rejoice in all that good done to the nation and government, to which we contribute nothing ourselves.

I fhould not forget to acknowledge your letter fent from Aix; you told me then that writing was not good with the waters, and, I find fince, you are of my opinion, that 'tis as bad without the waters. But, I fancy, it is not writing but thinking, that is fo bad with the waters; and then you might write without any manner of prejudice, if you writ like our brother poets of thefe days.

The Duchefs, Lord Warwick, Lord Stanhope, Mrs. Belfenden, Mrs. Lepell, and I can't tell who elfe, had your letters: Dr. Arbuthnot and I expect to be treated like friends. I would fend my fervices to Mr. Pultney, but that he is out of favour at court; and make fome compliment to Mrs. Pulteney, if the were not a Whig. My Lord Burlington tells me fhe has as much out-fhined all the French ladies, as fhe did the English before I am forry for it, because it will be detrimental to our holy religion, if heretical women fhould eclipfe thofe Nuns and orthodox Beauties, in whofe eyes alone lie all the hopes we can have, of gaining fuch fine gentlemen as you to our church. Yours, &c.

I wish you joy of the birth of the young prince, because he is the only prince we have from whom you have had no expectations and no disappointments.

* A Poem intituled, To my ingenious and worthy friend W. Lowndes, Efq; Author of that celebrated treatife in Folio, called the LAND TAX BILL

VOL. IV.

A a

LET

LETTER VI,

From Mr. GAY to Mr, F.

Stanton-Harcourt Aug, 9, 1718.

THE only news that you can expect to have from me here, is news from heaven, for I am quite out of the world, and there is fcarce any thing can reach me except the noise of thunder, which undoubtebly you have heard too. We have read in old authors of high towers levell'd by it to the ground, while the humble valleys have escap'd: the only thing that is proof against it is the laurel, which, however, I take to be no great fecurity to the brains of modern authors. But to let you fee that the contrary to this often happens, I muft acquaint you, that the highest and moft extravagant heap of towers in the universe, which is in this neighbourhood, ftand ftill undefaced, while a cock of barley in our next field has been confumed to afhes. Would to God that this heap of barley had been all that had perished! for unhappily beneath this little fhelter fat two much more conftant Lovers than ever were found in romance under the fhade of a beech-tree. John Hewet was a well-fet man of about five and twenty, Sarah Drew might be rather called comely than beautiful, and was about the fame age. They had pafs'd through the various labours of the year together, with the greateft fatisfaction; if fhe milk'd, 'twas his morning and evening care to bring the caws to her hand; it was but laft fair that he bought her a prefent of green filk for her ftraw hat, and the pofie on her filver ring was of his chufing. Their love was the talk of the whole neighbourhood; for fcandal never affirmed that they had any other views than the lawful poffeffion of each other in marriage. It was that very morning that he had ohtain'd the confent of her parents, and it was but till the next week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps in the intervals of their work they were now talking of the wedding cloaths, and John was feiting feveral forts of poppies and field flowers to her complexion, to chufe her a knot for the wedding-day. While they were thus bufied (it was on the laft of July between two and three in the afternoon) the clouds grew black, and fuch a ftorm of lightning and thunder enfued, that all the labourers made the beft of their way to what helter the trees and hedges afforded. Sarah was frighted, and fell down in a fwoon, on a heap of barley. John, who never feparated from her, fat down by her fide, having

raked

arm

Faked together two or three heaps, the better to fecure her
from the ftorm. Immediately there was heard foloud a crack,
as if heaven had split afunder; every one was now folici-
tous for the safety of his neighbour, and call'd to one ano-
ther throughout the field; No answer being returned to
thofe who called to our Lovers, they ftept to the place
where they lay, they perceived the barley all in a smoke,
and then fpied this faithful pair: John with one
about Sarah's neck, and the other held over her as to
fkreen her from the lightning. They were ftruck dead,
and ftiffen'd in this tender pofture. Sarah's left eye-brow
was fing'd, and there appeared a black spot on her breast:
her lover was all over black, but not the leaft figns of life
were found in either. Attended by their melancholy com-
panions, they were convey'd to the town, and the next day
were interr'd in Stanton-Harcourt Church-yard. My
Lord Harcourt, at Mr. Pope's and my request, has caused
a ftone to be placed over them, upon condition that we
furnish'd the Epitaph, which is as follows;

When Eaftern lovers feed the fun'ral fire,
On the fame pile the faithful pair expire:
Here pitying Heav'n that virtue mutual found,
And blafted both, that it might neither wound.
Hearts fo fincere th' Almighty faw well pleas'd,
Sent his own lightning, and the victims feiz'd.

But my Lord is apprehenfive the country people will not understand this, and Mr. Pope fays he'll make one with fomething of Scripture in it, and with as little of pocty as Hopkins and Sternhold *.

The Epitaph was this,

Near this place lie the bodies of
JOHN HEWET and MARY DREW;
an industrious young Man

and Virtuous Maid of this Parish;
Who, being at Harvest Work
(with feveral others)

were in one inftant killed by Lightning
the last day of July 1718.
Think not by rig'rous Judgment feiz'd,
A Pair fo faithful could expire;
Victims fo pure Heav'n faw well pleas'd,
And fnatch'd them in celeflial fire:

Live well, and fear no fudden fate;
When God calls Virtue to the grave,

Alike 'tis Juftice foon or late,
Mercy alike to kill or fave.

Virtue unmov'd can hear the call,

And face the flash that melts the ball,

A a 2

Your, &c.

LET