Oh thou my voice infpire, Who touch'd Ifaiah's hallow'd lips with fire! I have turn'd to every verse and chapter, and think you have preferv'd the fublime heavenly spirit throughout the whole, especially at-Hark a glad voice-and-The lamb with wolves fhall graze.-There is but one line which I think below the original, He wipes the tears for ever from our eyes. You have express'd it with a good and pious, but not fo exalted and poetical a spirit as the prophet, The Lord will wipe away tears from off all faces. If you agree with me in this, alter it by way of paraphrafe, or otherwise that when it comes into a volume it may be amended. Your poem is already better than the Pollio. I am LETTER II. The Anfwer. Your, &c. June 18, 1712. γου OU have obliged me with a very kind letter, by which I find you shift the scene of your life from the town to the country, and enjoy that mix'd state which wife men doth delight in, and are qualified for. Methinks the moralifts and philofophers have generally run too much into extremes in commending entirely either folitude, or public life. In the former, men for the moft part grow useless by too much reft, and in the latter are deftroy'd by too much precipitation ; as waters lying ftill, putrify, and are good for nothing, and running violently on do but the more mifchief in their paffage to others, and are fwallow'd up and loft the fooner themselves. Those indeed who can be useful to all ftates, fhould be like gentle ftreams, that not only glide thro' lonely valleys, and forefts amidst the flocks and fhepherds, but vifit populous towns in their courfe, and are at once of ornament and fervice fervice to them. But there are another fort of people who seem defign'd for folitude, fuch I mean, as have more to hide than to fhow. As for my own part, I am one of those whom Seneca fays, Tam umbratiles funt, ut putent in turbido effe quicquid in luce eft. Some men, like fome pictures, are fitter for a corner than a full light; and, I believe, fuch as have a natural bent to folitude (to carry on the former fimilitude) are like waters, which may be forced into fountains, and exalted into a great height, may make a noble figure and a louder noife, but after all they would run more fmoothly, quietly, and plentifully, in their own natural course upon the ground *. The confideration of this would make me very well contented with the poffeffion only of that quiet which Cowley calls the companion of obfcurity. But whoever has the muses too for his companions, can never be idle enough, to be uneasy. Thus, Sir, you fee, I would flatter myself into a good opinion of my own way of living. Plutarch just now told me, that 'tis in human life as in a game at tables, where a man may wish for the highest cast, but, if his chance be otherwise, he is e'en to play it as well as he can, and to make the beft of it. I am LETTER III. To Mr. STEELE. Your, &c. July 15, 1712. You formerly obferved to me, that nothing made a more rediculous figure in a man's life, than the disparity we often find in him fick and well: thus one of an unfortunate conftitution is perpetually exhibiting a miferable example of the weakness of his mind, and of his * The foregoing fimilitudes our Author had put into verse fome years before, and inserted into Mr. Wycherly's poem on Mix'd Life. We find them in the versification very diftinct from the rest of that poem. See his pofthumous works, octavo, page 3 and 4. 4 body, body, in their turns. I have had frequent opportunities of late to confider myself in these different views, and, I hope, have received fome advantage by it, if what Waller fays be true, that The foul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light thro' chinks that time has made. Then furely fickness, contributing no lefs than old age to the fhaking down this scaffolding of the body, may difcover the inward ftructure more plainly. Sickness is a fort of early old age: it teaches us a diffidence in our earthly ftate, and infpires us with the thoughts of a future, better than a thousand volumes of philofophers and divines, It gives fo warning a concuffion to those props of our va❤ nity, our strength and youth, that we think of fortifying ourselves within, when there is fo little dependance upon our outworks. Youth at the very beft is but a betrayer of human life in a gentler and smoother manner than age: tis like a stream that nourishes a plant upon a bank, and caufes it to flourish and bloffom to the fight, but at the fame time is undermining it at the root in fecret. My youth has dealt more fairly and openly with me, it has afforded feveral profpects of my danger, and given me an advantage not very common to young men, that the attractions of the world have not dazzled me very much; and I begin, where moft people end, with a full conviction of the emptiness of all forts of ambition, and the unfatisfactory nature of all human pleasures. When a fmart fit of ficknefs tells me this fourvy tenement of my body will fall in a little time, I am e'en as unconcern'd as was that honeft Hibernian, who being in bed in the great ftorm fome years ago, and told the house would tumble over his head, made answer, what care I for the houfe? I am only a lodger. I fancy 'tis the best time to die when one is in the beft humour; and fo exceffively weak as I now am, I may fay with conscience, that I am not at all uneasy at the thought, that ma ny ny men, whom I never had any efteem for, are likely to enjoy this world after me. When I reflect what an inconfiderable little atom every single man is, with respect to the whole creation, methinks 'tis fhame to be concern'd at the removal of fuch a trivial animal as I am. The morning after my exit, the fun will rise as bright as ever, the flowers fmell as fweet, the plants fpring as green, the world will proceed in its old course, people will laugh as heartily, and marry as fast, as they were us'd to do. The memory of man (as it is clegantly exprefs'd in the Book of Wisdom) paffeth away as the remembrance of a gueft that tarrieth but one day. There are reasons enough, in the fourth chapter of the fame book, to make any young man contented with the profpect of death. "For honourable age is not that which ftandeth in "length of time, or is measur'd by number of years. "But wisdom is the grey hair to men, and an unspotted life is old age. He was taken away fpeedily, left "wickedness should alter his undarstanding, or deceit be"guile his foul," &c. I am Your, &c. I LETTER IV. To Mr. STEELE, Nov. 7, 1712. Was the other day in company with five or fix men of fome learning; where chancing to mention the famous verses which the Emperor Adrian spoke on his death bed, they were all agreed that 'twas a piece of gaiety unworthy of that prince in those circumstances. I could not but differ from this opinion: methinks it was by no means a gay, but a very serious foliloquy to his foul at the point of its departure; in which sense I naturally took the verses at my first reading them, when I was very young, and þefore I knew what interpretation the world generally put upon them. Animula Animula vagula, blandula, Nec (ut foles) dabis jocą ! "Alas, my foul! thou pleafing companion of this body, "thou fleeting thing that art now deserting it! whither "art thou flying? to what unknown scene? all tremb❝ling, fearful, and penfive! what now is become of thy " former wit and humour? thou shalt jeft and be gay ❝ no more." I confess I cannot apprehend where lies the trifling in all this: 'tis the most natural and obvious reflection imaginable to a dying man: and if we confider the Emperor was a heathen, that doubt concerning the future fate of his foul will seem so far from being the effect of want of thought, that 'twas scarce reasonable he should think otherwise; not to mention that here is a plain confeffion included of his belief in its immortality. The diminutive epithets of vagula blandula, and the reft appear not to me as expreffions of levity, but rather of endearment and concern; fuch as we find in Catullus, and the authors of Hendeca-fyllabi after him, where they are used to exprefs the utmost love and tenderness for their mistreffes.If you think me right in my notion of the laft words of Adrian, be pleas'd to insert it in the Spectator: if not to fupprefs it. I am. &c. Adriani morientis ad ANIMAM, TRANSLATED. Ah fleeting fpirit! wand'ring fire, LEF |