Volume 4 — JOHN HUGHES,

William Duncomb, esq; has obliged the world with an entire edition of this author's poetical and prose works, to which he has prefixed some account of his life, written with candour and spirit. Upon his authority we chiefly build the following narration; in which we shall endeavour to do as much justice as possible to the memory of this excellent poet.

Our author was the son of a worthy citizen of London, and born at Marlborough in the county of Wilts, on the 29th of January 1677; but received the rudiments of his learning at private schools in London.

In the earliest years of his youth, he applied himself with ardour to the pursuit of the sister arts, poetry, drawing and music, in each of which by turns, he made a considerable progress; but for the most part pursued these and other polite studies, only as agreeable amusements, under frequent confinement from indisposition, and a valetudinary state of health. He had some time an employment in the office of ordinance; and was secretary to two or three commissioners under the great-seal, for purchasing lands for the better securing the docks and harbours at Portsmouth, Chatham, and Harwich.

In the year 1717 the lord chancellor Cowper, (to whom Mr. Hughes was then but lately known) was pleased, without any previous sollicitation, to make him his secretary for the commissions of the peace, and to distinguish him with singular marks of his favour and affection: And upon his lordship's laying down the great-seal, he was at his particular recommendation, and with the ready concurrence of his successor, continued in the same employment under the earl of Macclesfield.

He held this place to the time of his decease, which happened on the 17th of February 1719, the very night in which his tragedy, entitled the Siege of Damascus, was first acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

He was cut off by a consumption, after a painful life, at the age of 42, when he had just arrived at an agreeable competence, and advancing in fame and fortune. So just is the beautiful reflexion of Milton in his Lycidas;

Fame is the spur, that the clear spirit doth raise, (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon, when we hops to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind fury with th' abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life.—

He was privately buried in the vault under the chancel of St. Andrew's Church in Holborn. Mr. Hughes, as a testimony of gratitude to his noble friend, and generous patron, earl Cowper, gave his lordship a few weeks before he died, his picture drawn by Sir Godfrey Kneller, which he himself had received from that masterly painter. The value lord Cowper set upon it will be best shewn, by the letter he wrote upon this occasion to Mr. Hughes. As such a testimony from so eminent a person, was considered by himself as one of the highest honours he was capable of receiving, we shall therefore insert it.

24th Jan. 1719-20.

'Sir,

'I thank you for the most acceptable present of your picture, and assure you that none of this age can set a higher value on it than I do, and shall while I live, tho' I am sensible posterity will out-do me in that particular.'

I am with the greatest esteem, and sincerity

Your most affectionate, and oblig'd humble servant

COWPER.

Mr. Hughes was happy in the acquaintance and friendship of several of the greatest men, and most distinguished genius's of the age in which he lived; particularly of the nobleman just now mentioned, the present lord bishop of Winchester, lord chief baron Gilbert, Sir Godfrey Kneller, Mr. Congreve, Mr. Addison, Sir Richard Steele, Mr. Southern, Mr. Rowe, &c. and might have justly boasted in the words of Horace

——me Cum magnis vixisse, invita fatebitu usque Invidia.——

Having given this short account of his life, which perhaps is all that is preserved any where concerning him; we shall now consider him, first, as a poet, and then as a prose writer.

The Triumph of Peace was the earliest poem he wrote of any length, that appeared in public. It was written on occasion of the peace of Ryswick, and printed in the year 1677. A learned gentleman at Cambridge, in a letter to a friend of Mr. Hughes's, dated the 28th of February 1697-8, gives the following account of the favourable reception this poem met with there, upon its first publication.

'I think I never heard a poem read with so much admiration, as the Triumph of Peace was by our best critics here, nor a greater character given to a young poet, at his first appearing; no, not even to Mr. Congreve himself. So nobly elevated are his thoughts, his numbers so harmonious, and his turns so fine and delicate, that we cry out with Tully, on a like occasion,

'Nostræ spes altera Romæ!'

The Court of Neptune, was written on king William's return from Holland, two years after the peace, in 1699. This Poem was admired for the verification, however, the musical flow of the numbers is its least praise; it rather deserves to be valued for the propriety, and boldness of the figures and metaphors, and the machinery.

The following lines have been justly quoted as an instance of the author's happy choice of metaphors.

As when the golden god, who rules the day, Drives down his flaming chariot to the sea, And leaves the nations here, involved in night, To distant regions he transports his light; So William's rays by turns, two rations cheer, And when he sets to them, he rises here.

A friend of Mr. Hughes's soon after the publication of this poem, complimented him upon the choice of his subject, and for the moral sentiments contained in it. 'I am sure (says he) virtue is most for the interest of mankind; and those poets have ever obtained the most honour in the world, who have made that the end and design of their works. A wanton Sappho, or Anacreon, among the ancients, never had the same applause, as a Pindar, or Alexis; nor in the judgment of Horace did they deserve it. In the opinion of all posterity, a lewd and debauch'd Ovid, did justly submit to the worth of a Virgil; and, in future ages, a Dryden will never be compared to Milton. In all times, and in all places of the world, the moral poets have been ever the greatest; and as much superior to others in wit, as in virtue. Nor does this seem difficult to be accounted for, since the dignity of their subjects naturally raised their ideas, and gave a grandeur to their sentiments.'

The House of Nassau, a Pindaric Ode (printed in 1702) was occasioned by the death of king William. 'In Pindaric and Lyric Poetry (says Mr. Duncomb) our author's genius shines in its full lustre. Tho' he enjoyed all that fire of imagination, and divine enthusiasm, for which some of the ancient poets are so deservedly admired, yet did his fancy never run away with his reason, but was always guided by superior judgment; and the music of his verse is exquisite.'

The Translation of the third Ode of the third Book of Horace, and the Paraphrase of the twenty-second Ode, of the first book, were both written when he was very young; and the latter of them was his first poetical Essay, which appeared in print. Mr. Hughes, in a private letter sent to one of his friends, gives it as his opinion, that the Odes of Horace, are fitter to be paraphrased, than translated.

The Tenth Book of Lucan, was translated by Mr. Hughes, long before Mr. Rowe undertook that author. The occasion of it was this: Mr. Tonson the bookseller, sollicited a translation of Lucan, by several hands. Mr. Hughes performed his part, but others failing in their promises, the design was dropp'd; and Mr. Rowe was afterwards prevailed upon to undertake the whole, which he performed with great success.

In the year 1709 Mr. Hughes obliged the publick, with an elegant translation of Moliere's celebrated Comedy, the Misantrope. This has been since reprinted, with the other plays of that admirable author, translated by Mr. Ozell; but care is taken to distinguish this particular play.

In the year 1712 his Opera of Calypso and Telemachus, was performed at the Queen's Theatre in the Hay-Market. Perhaps it may be worth while to mention here, one circumstance concerning this Opera, as it relates to the History of Music in England, and discovers the great partiality shewn at that time to Opera's performed in Italian. After many such had been encouraged by large subscriptions, this, originally written, and set in English, after the Italian manner, was prepared with the usual expence of scenes and decorations; and being much crowded and applauded at the rehearsals, a subscription was obtained for it as usual.

This alarmed the whole Italian band, who, apprehending that their profession would suffer thereby, procured an order from the duke of Shrewsbury, then lord chamberlain, the day before the performing of this Opera, to take off the subscription for it, and to open the house at the lowest prices, or not at all. This was designed to sink it, but failed of its end. It was performed, formed, though under such great discouragement; and was revived afterwards at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. Mr. Addison, in the Spectator, Numb. 405, speaking of the just applause given this opera, by Signior Nicolini (who he says was the greatest performer in dramatic music, that perhaps ever appeared upon a stage) has these words,

'The town is highly obliged to that excellent artist, for having shewn us the Italian music in its perfection, as well as for that generous approbation he gave to an Opera of our own country, in which Mr. Galliard the composer endeavoured to do justice to the beauty of the words, by following that noble example which has been set him by the greatest foreign masters of that art.'

The Ode to the Creator of the World, occasioned by the fragments of Orpheus, was printed in the year 1713, at the particular instance of Mr. Addison; and is mentioned with applause in the Spectator. This, and the Extasy, (published since the death of the author) are justly esteemed two of the noblest Odes in our language. The seventh Stanza of the last mentioned piece, is so sublimely excellent, that it would be denying ourselves, and our poetical readers, a pleasure not to transcribe it. The whole of this Ode is beautifully heightened, and poetically conceived. It furnished a hint to a living Poet to write what he entitles the Excursion, which tho' it has very great merit, yet falls infinitely short of this animated Ode of Mr. Hughes.

After having represented the natural and artificial calamities to which man is doomed, he proceeds,

But why do I delay my flight? Or on such gloomy objects gaze? I go to realms serene, with ever-living light. Haste, clouds and whirlwinds, haste a raptured bard to raise; Mount me sublime along the shining way, Where planets, in pure streams of Aether driven, Swim thro' the blue expanse of heav'n. And lo! th' obsequious clouds and winds obey! And lo! again the nations downward fly; And wide-stretch'd kingdoms perish from my eye. Heav'n! what bright visions now arise! What op'ning worlds my ravish'd sense surprize! I pass Cerulian gulphs, and now behold New solid globes; their weight self-ballanc'd, bear Unprop'd amidst the fluid air, And all, around the central Sun, incircling eddies roll'd. Unequal in their course, see they advance And form the planetary dance! Here the pale Moon, whom the same laws ordain T' obey the earth, and rule the main; Here spots no more in shadowy streaks appear; But lakes instead, and groves of trees, The wand'ring muse, transported sees, And their tall heads discover'd mountains rear. And now once more, I downward cast my sight, When lo! the earth, a larger moon displays, Far off, amidst the heav'ns, her silver face, And to her sister moons by turns gives light! Her seas are shadowy spots, her land a milky white.

The author of an Essay on Criticism, printed in the year 1728, informs us, that the Tragedy of Cato being brought upon the stage in 1713 was owing to Mr. Hughes. The circumstances recorded by this author are so remarkable, that they deserve to be related; and as they serve to shew the high opinion Mr. Addison entertained of our author's abilities as a Poet, I shall therefore transcribe his own words.—

'It has been often said by good judges, that Cato was no proper subject for a dramatic poem: That the character of a stoic philosopher, is inconsistent with the hurry and tumult of action, and passions which are the soul of tragedy. That the ingenious author miscarried in the plan of his work, but supported it by the dignity, the purity, the beauty, and justness of the sentiments. This was so much the opinion of Mr. Maynwaring, who was generally allowed to be the best critic of our time; that he was against bringing the play upon the stage, and it lay by unfinished many years. That it was play'd at last was owing to Mr. Hughes. He had read the four acts which were finished, and really thought it would be of service to the public, to have it represented at the latter end of queen Anne's reign, when the spirit of liberty was likely to be lost. He endeavoured to bring Mr. Addison into his opinion, which he did, and consented it should be acted if Mr. Hughes would write the last act; and he offered him the scenery for his assistance, excusing his not finishing it himself, upon account of some other avocations. He press'd Mr. Hughes to do it so earnestly, that he was prevailed upon, and set about it. But, a week after, seeing Mr. Addison again, with an intention to communicate to him what he thought of it, he was agreeably surprized at his producing some papers, where near half of the act was written by the author himself, who took fire at the hint, that it would be serviceable; and, upon a second reflexion, went through with the fifth act, not that he was diffident of Mr. Hughes's abilities; but knowing that no man could have so perfect a notion of his design as himself, who had been so long, and so carefully thinking of it. I was told this by Mr. Hughes, and I tell it to shew, that it was not for the love-scenes, that Mr. Addison consented to have his Tragedy acted, but to support public spirit; which in the opinion of the author was then declining.'

In the year 1720 the Siege of Damascus was acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, with universal applause. His present majesty honoured it with his presence, and the late queen distinguished it with marks of favour.

Mr. Hughes drew up the dedication of this Tragedy to the late Earl Cowper, about ten days before he died. It is indeed surprising, that he should be able to form a piece so finely turned, and at such an hour; when death was just before him, and he was too weak to transcribe it himself.

Mr. Pope, in a letter to Mr. Hughes's brother, written soon after his death, in answer to one received from him, with the printed copy of the play, has the following pathetic passage.

'I read over again your brother's play, with more concern and sorrow, than I ever felt in the reading any Tragedy. The real loss of a good man may be called a distress to the world, and ought to affect us more, than any feigned distress, how well drawn soever. I am glad of an occasion of giving you under my hand this testimony, both how excellent I think this work to be, and how excellent I thought the author.'

It is generally allowed that the characters in this play are finely varied and distinguished; that the sentiments are just, and well adapted to the characters; that it abounds with beautiful descriptions, apt allusions to the manners, and opinions of the times where the scene is laid, and with noble morals; that the diction is pure, unaffected, and sublime; and that the plot is conducted in a simple and clear manner.

Some critics have objected, that there is not a sufficient ground and foundation, for the distress in the fourth and fifth acts. That Phocyas only assists the enemy to take Damascus a few days sooner, than it must unavoidably have fallen into the hands of the Saracens by a capitulation, which was far from dishonourable. If Phocyas is guilty, his guilt must consist in this only, that he performed the same action from a sense of his own wrong, and to preserve the idol of his soul from violation, and death, which he might have performed laudably, upon better principles. But this (say they) seems not sufficient ground for those strong and stinging reproaches he casts upon himself, nor for Eudocia's rejecting him with so much severity. It would have been a better ground of distress, considering the frailty of human nature, and the violent temptations he lay under; if he had been at last prevailed upon to profess himself a Mahometan: For then his remorse, and self-condemnation, would have been natural, his punishment just, and the character of Eudocia placed in a more amiable light. In answer to these objections, and in order to do justice to the judgment of Mr. Hughes, we must observe, that he formed his play according to the plan here recommended: but, over-persuaded by some friends, he altered it as it now stands.

When our author was but in the nineteenth year of his age, he wrote a Tragedy, entitled, Amalasont Queen of the Goths, which displays a fertile genius, and a masterly invention. Besides these poetical productions Mr. Hughes is author of several works in prose, particularly, The Advices from Parnassus, and the Poetical Touchstone of Trajano Boccalini, translated by several hands, were printed in folio 1706. This translation was revised and corrected, and the preface to it was written by Mr. Hughes.

Fontenelle's Dialogues of the Dead, translated by our author; with two original Dialogues, published in the year 1708. The greatest part of this had lain by him for six years.

Fontenelle's Discourse concerning the ancients, and moderns, are printed with his conversations with a Lady, on the Plurality of Worlds, translated by Glanville.

The History of the Revolutions in Portugal, written in French, by Monsieur L'Abbé de Vertot, was translated by Mr. Hughes.

The Translation of the Letters of Abelard and Heloise, was done by Mr. Hughes; upon which Mr. Pope has built his beautiful Epistle of Heloise to Abelard.

As Mr. Hughes was an occasional contributor to the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, the reader perhaps may be curious to know more particularly what share he had in those papers, which are so justly admired in all places in the world, where taste and genius have visited. As it is the highest honour to have had any concern in works like these, so it would be most injurious to the memory of this excellent genius, not to particularize his share in them.

In the Tatler he writ,

Vol. II. Numb. 64. A Letter signed Josiah Couplet. Numb. 73. A Letter against Gamesters, signed William Trusty.

Mr. Tickell alludes to this Letter, in a Copy of Verses addressed to the Spectator, Vol. VII. No. 532.

From Felon Gamesters, the raw squire is free, And Briton owes her rescued oaks to thee.

Numb. 113. The Inventory of a Beau.

In the Spectator.

Vol. I. Numb. 33. A Letter on the Art of improving beauty. Numb. 53. A Second Letter on the same subject. Numb. 66. Two Letters concerning fine breeding.

Vol. II. Numb. 91. The History of Honoria, or the Rival Mother. Numb. 104. A Letter on Riding-Habits for Ladies. Numb. 141. Remarks on a Comedy, intitled the Lancashire-Witches.

Vol. III. Numb. 210. On the immortality of the Soul. Numb. 220. A Letter concerning expedients for Wit. Numb. 230. All, except the last Letter. Numb. 231. A Letter on the awe of appearing before public assemblies. Numb. 237. On Divine Providence.

Vol. IV. Numb. 252. A Letter on the Eloquence of Tears, and fainting fits. Numb. 302. The Character of Emilia. Numb. 311. A Letter from the Father of a great Fortune.

Vol. V. Numb. 57. A Picture of Virtue in Distress. Vol. VII. Numb. 525. On Conjugal Love. Numb. 537. On the Dignity of Human Nature. Numb. 541. Rules for Pronunciation and Action, chiefly collected from Cicero.

Vol. VII. Numb. 554. On the Improvement of the Genius, illustrated in the characters of Lord Bacon, Mr. Boyle, Sir Isaac Newton, and Leonardo da Vinci.—We have not been able to learn, what papers in the Guardian were written by him, besides Number 37, Vol. I. which contains Remarks on the Tragedy of Othello.

In the year 1715 Mr. Hughes published a very accurate edition of the works of our famous poet Edmund Spenser, in six volumes, 12mo. to this edition are prefixed the Life of Spenser; an Essay on Allegorical poetry; Remarks on the Fairy Queen; on the Shepherd's Calendar, and other writings of Spenser; and a Glossary explaining the Old and obsolete Words.

In 1718 he published a piece called Charon, or The Ferry-Boat, a Vision. This, and Mr. Walsh's Æsculapius, or Hospital of Fools, are perhaps two of the finest dialogues we have in English, as well as the most lively imitations of Lucian.

Sir Richard Steele, in a paper called The Theatre, No. 15. has paid a tribute to the memory of Mr. Hughes, with which as it illustrates his amiable character, we shall conclude his life.

'I last night (says he) saw the Siege of Damascus, and had the mortification to hear this evening that Mr. Hughes, the author of it, departed this life within some few hours after his play was acted, with universal applause. This melancholy circumstance recalled into my thought a speech in the tragedy, which very much affected the whole audience, and was attended to with the greatest, and most solemn instance of approbation, and awful silence.' The incidents of the play plunge a heroic character into the last extremity; and he is admonished by a tyrant commander to expect no mercy, unless he changes the Christian religion for the Mahometan. The words with which the Turkish general makes his exit from his prisoner are,

Farewel, and think of death.

Upon which the captive breaks into the following soliloquy,

Farewel! and think of death!—was it not so? Do murtherers then, preach morality? But how to think of what the living know not, And the dead cannot, or else may not tell! What art thou? O thou great mysterious terror! The way to thee, we know; diseases, famine, Sword, fire, and all thy ever open gates, That day and night stand ready to receive us. But what, beyond them? who will draw that veil? Yet death's not there.——No, 'tis a point of time; The verge 'twixt mortal, and immortal Being. It mocks our thought——On this side all is life; And when we've reach'd it, in that very instant, 'Tis past the thinking of——O if it be The pangs, the throes, the agonizing struggle, When soul and body part, sure I have felt it! And there's no more to fear.

'The gentleman (continues Sir Richard) to whose memory I devote this paper, may be the emulation of more persons of different talents, than any one I have ever known. His head, hand, or heart, was always employed in something worthy imitation; his pencil, his bow (string) or his pen, each of which he used in a masterly manner, were always directed to raise, and entertain his own mind, or that of others, to a more chearful prosecution of what is noble and virtuous. Peace be with thy remains, thou amiable spirit! but I talk in the language of our weakness, that is flown to the regions of immortality, and relieved from the aking engine and painful instrument of anguish and sorrow, in which for many tedious years he panted with a lively hope for his present condition.' We shall consign the trunk, in which he was so long imprisoned, to common earth, with all that is due to the merit of its inhabitant[A].

[Footnote A: There are several copies of verses written to the memory of Mr. Hughes, prefixed to Mr. Duncomb's edition of his poems, of which one by a lady who has withheld her name, deserves particular distinction.]

* * * * *

MATTHEW PRIOR, Esq;

This celebrated poet was the son of Mr. George Prior, citizen of London, who was by profession a Joiner. Our author was born in 1664. His father dying when he was very young, left him to the care of an uncle, a Vintner near Charing-Cross, who discharged the trust that was reposed in him, with a tenderness truly paternal, as Mr. Prior always acknowledged with the highest professions of gratitude. He received part of his education at Westminster school, where he distinguished himself to great advantage, but was afterwards taken home by his uncle in order to be bred up to his trade. Notwithstanding this mean employment, to which Mr. Prior seemed now doomed, yet at his leisure hours he prosecuted his study of the classics, and especially his favourite Horace, by which means he was soon taken notice of, by the polite company, who resorted to his uncle's house. It happened one day, that the earl of Dorset being at his Tavern, which he often frequented with several gentlemen of rank, the discourse turned upon the Odes of Horace; and the company being divided in their sentiments about a passage in that poet, one of the gentlemen said, I find we are not like to agree in our criticisms, but, if I am not mistaken, there is a young fellow in the house, who is able to set us all right: upon which he named Prior, who was immediately sent for, and desired to give his opinion of Horace's meaning in the Ode under consideration; this he did with great modesty, and so much to the satisfaction of the company, that the earl of Dorset, from that moment, determined to remove him from the station in which he was, to one more suited to his genius; and accordingly procured him to be sent to St. John's College in Cambridge, where he took his degree in 1686, and afterwards became fellow of the College.

During his residence in the university, he contracted an intimate friendship with Charles Montague, esq; afterwards earl of Hallifax, in conjunction with whom he wrote a very humorous piece, entitled The Hind and Panther transversed to the story of the Country Mouse, and the City Mouse, printed 1687 in 4to. in answer to Mr. Dryden's Hind and the Panther, published the year before.

Upon the revolution Mr. Prior was brought to court by his great patron the earl of Dorset, by whose interest he was introduced to public employment, and in the year 1690 was made secretary to the earl of Berkley, plenipotentiary to King William and Queen Mary at the Congress at the Hague.

In this station he acquitted himself so well, that he was afterwards appointed secretary to the earls of Pembroke, and Jersey, and Sir Joseph Williamson, ambassadors, and plenipotentiaries, at the treaty of Ryswick 1697, as he was likewise in 1698 to the earl of Portland, ambassador to the court of France. While he was in that kingdom, one of the officers of the French King's houshold, shewing him the royal apartments, and curiosities at Versailles, especially the paintings of Le Brun, wherein the victories of Lewis XIV. are described, asked him, whether King William's actions are to be seen in his palace? 'No Sir, replied Mr. Prior, the monuments of my master's actions are to be seen every where, but in his own house.'

In the year 1697 Mr. Prior was made secretary of state for Ireland, and in 1700 was created master of arts by Mandamus, and appointed one of the lords commissioners of trade and plantations, upon the resignation of Mr. Locke. He was also Member of Parliament for East-Grimstead in Sussex. In 1710 he was supposed to have had a share in writing the Examiner, and particularly a Criticism in it upon a Poem of Dr. Garth to the earl of Godolphin, taken notice of in the life of Garth.

About this time, when Godolphin was defeated by Oxford, and the Tories who had long been eclipsed by the lustre of Marlborough, began again to hold up their heads, Mr. Prior and Dr. Garth espoused opposite interests; Mr. Prior wrote for, and Garth against the court. The Dr. was so far honest, that he did not desert his patron in distress; and notwithstanding the cloud which then hung upon the party, he addressed verses to him, which, however they may fail in the poetry, bear strong the marks of gratitude, and honour.

While Mr. Prior was thus very early initiated in public business, and continued in the hurry of affairs for many years, it must appear not a little surprizing, that he should find sufficient opportunities to cultivate his poetical talents, to the amazing heights he raised them. In his preface to his poems, he says, that poetry was only the product of his leisure hours; that he had commonly business enough upon his hands, and, as he modestly adds, was only a poet by accident; but we must take the liberty of differing from him in the last particular, for Mr. Prior seems to have received from the muses, at his nativity, all the graces they could well bestow on their greatest favourite.

We must not omit one instance in Mr. Prior's conduct, which will appear very remarkable: he was chosen a member of that Parliament which impeached the Partition Treaty, to which he himself had been secretary; and though his share in that transaction was consequently very considerable, yet he joined in the impeachment upon an honest principle of conviction, that exceptionable measures attended it.

The lord Bolingbroke, who, notwithstanding many exceptions made both to his conduct, and sentiments in other instances, yet must be allowed to be an accomplished judge of fine talents, entertained the highest esteem for Mr. Prior, on account of his shining abilities. This noble lord, in a letter dated September 10, 1712, addressed to Mr. Prior, while he was the Queen's minister, and plenipotentiary at the court of France, pays him the following compliment; 'For God's sake, Matt. hide the nakedness of thy country, and give the best turn thy fertile brain will furnish thee with, to the blunders of thy countrymen, who are not much better politicians, than the French are poets.' His lordship thus concludes his epistle; 'It is near three o'clock in the morning, I have been hard at work all day, and am not yet enough recovered to bear much fatigue; excuse therefore the confusedness of this scroll, which is only from Harry to Matt, and not from the secretary to the minister. Adieu, my pen is ready to drop out of my hand, it being now three o'clock in the morning; believe that no man loves you better, or is more faithfully yours, &c.

'BOLINGBROKE.'

There are several other letters from Bolingbroke to Prior, which, were it necessary, we might insert as evidences of his esteem for him; but Mr. Prior was in every respect so great a man, that the esteem even of lord Bolingbroke cannot add much to the lustre of his reputation, both as a statesman, and a poet. Mr. Prior is represented by those who knew, and have wrote concerning him, as a gentleman, who united the elegance and politeness of a court, with the scholar, and the man of genius. This representation, in general, may be just, yet it holds almost invariably true, that they who have risen from low life, still retain some traces of their original. No cultivation, no genius, it seems, is able entirely to surmount this: There was one particular in which Mr. Prior verified the old proverb.

The same woman who could charm the waiter in a tavern, still maintained her dominion over the embassador at France. The Chloe of Prior, it seems, was a woman in this station of life; but he never forsook her in the heighth of his reputation. Hence we may observe, that associations with women are the most lasting of all, and that when an eminent station raises a man above many other acts of condescension, a mistress will maintain her influence, charm away the pride of greatness, and make the hero who fights, and the patriot who speaks, for the liberty of his country, a slave to her. One would imagine however, that this woman, who was a Butcher's wife, must either have been very handsome, or have had something about her superior to people of her rank: but it seems the case was otherwise, and no better reason can be given for Mr. Prior's attachment to her, but that she was his taste. Her husband suffered their intrigue to go on unmolested; for he was proud even of such a connexion as this, with so great a man as Prior; a singular instance of good nature.

In the year 1715 Mr. Prior was recalled from France, and upon his arrival was taken up by a warrant from the House of Commons; shortly after which, he underwent a very strict examination by a Committee of the Privy Council. His political friend, lord Bolingbroke, foreseeing a storm, took shelter in France, and secured Harry, but left poor Matt. in the lurch.

On the 10th of June Robert Walpole, esq; moved the House against him, and on the 17th Mr. Prior was ordered into close custody, and no person was admitted to see him without leave from the Speaker. For the particulars of this procedure of the Parliament, both against Mr. Prior, and many others concerned in the public transactions of the preceding reign, we refer to the histories of that time. In the year 1717 an Act of Grace was passed in favour of those who had opposed the Hanoverian succession, as well as those who had been in open rebellion, but Mr. Prior was excepted out of it. At the close of this year, however, he was discharged from his confinement, and retired to spend the residue of his days at Downhall in Essex.

The severe usage which Mr. Prior met with, perhaps was the occasion of the following beautiful lines, addressed to his Chloe;

From public noise, and factious strife, From all the busy ills of life, Take me, my Chloe, to thy breast; And lull my wearied soul to rest: For ever, in this humble cell, Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell; None enter else, but Love——and he Shall bar the door, and keep the key.

To painted roofs, and shining spires (Uneasy feats of high desires) Let the unthinking many croud, That dare be covetous, and proud; In golden bondage let them wait, And barter happiness for state: But oh! my Chloe when thy swain Desires to see a court again; May Heav'n around his destin'd head The choicest of his curses shed, To sum up all the rage of fate. In the two things I dread, and hate, May'st thou be false, and I be great.

In July 1721, within two months of his death, Mr. Prior published the following beautiful little tale on the falshood of mankind, entitled The Conversation, and applied it to the truth, honour, and justice of his grace the duke of Dorset.

The CONVERSATION. A Tale.

It always has been thought discreet To know the company you meet; And sure, there may be secret danger In talking much before a stranger. Agreed: what then? then drink your ale; I'll pledge you, and repeat my tale.

No matter where the scene is fix'd, The persons were but odly mix'd, When sober Damon thus began: (And Damon is a clever man)

I now grow old; but still from youth, Have held for modesty and truth, The men, who by these sea-marks steer, In life's great voyage, never err; Upon this point I dare defy The world; I pause for a reply.

Sir, either is a good assistant, Said one, who sat a little distant: Truth decks our speeches, and our books, And modesty adorns our looks: But farther progress we must take; Not only born to look and speak, The man must act. The Stagyrite Says thus, and says extremely right; Strict justice is the sovereign guide, That o'er our actions should preside; This queen of virtue is confess'd To regulate and bind the rest. Thrice happy, if you can but find Her equal balance poise your mind: All diff'rent graces soon will enter, Like lines concurrent to their center.

'Twas thus, in short, these two went on, With yea and nay, and pro and con, Thro' many points divinely dark, And Waterland assaulting Clarke; 'Till, in theology half lost, Damon took up the Evening-Post; Confounded Spain, compos'd the North, And deep in politics held forth.

Methinks, we're in the like condition, As at the treaty of partition; That stroke, for all King William's care, Begat another tedious war. Matthew, who knew the whole intrigue, Ne'er much approv'd that mystic league; In the vile Utrecht treaty too, Poor man! he found enough to do. Sometimes to me he did apply; But downright Dunstable was I, And told him where they were mistaken, And counsell'd him to save his bacon: But (pass his politics and prose) I never herded with his foes; Nay, in his verses, as a friend, I still found something to commend. Sir, I excus'd his Nut-brown maid; Whate'er severer critics said: Too far, I own, the girl was try'd: The women all were on my side. For Alma I return'd him thanks, I lik'd her with her little pranks; Indeed, poor Solomon, in rhime, Was much too grave to be sublime. Pindar and Damon scorn transition, So on he ran a new division; 'Till, out of breath, he turn'd to spit: (Chance often helps us more than wit) T'other that lucky moment took, Just nick'd the time, broke in, and spoke.

Of all the gifts the gods afford (If we may take old Tully's word) The greatest is a friend, whose love Knows how to praise, and when reprove; From such a treasure never part, But hang the jewel on your heart: And pray, sir (it delights me) tell; You know this author mighty well— Know him! d'ye question it? ods fish! Sir, does a beggar know his dish? I lov'd him, as I told you, I Advis'd him—here a stander-by Twitch'd Damon gently by the cloke, And thus unwilling silence broke: Damon, 'tis time we should retire, The man you talk with is Matt. Prior.

Patron, thro' life, and from thy birth my friend, Dorset, to thee this fable let me send: With Damon's lightness weigh thy solid worth; The foil is known to set the diamond forth: Let the feign'd tale this real moral give, How many Damons, how few Dorsets live!

Mr. Prior, after the fatigue of a length of years past in various services of action, was desirous of spending the remainder of his days in rural tranquility, which the greatest men of all ages have been fond of enjoying: he was so happy as to succeed in his wish, living a very retired, and contemplative life, at Downhall in Essex, and found, as he expressed himself, a more solid, and innocent satisfaction among woods, and meadows, than he had enjoyed in the hurry, and tumults of the world, the courts of Princes, or the conducting foreign negotiations; and where as he melodiously sings,

The remnant of his days he safely past, Nor found they lagg'd too slow, nor flew too fast; He made his wish with his estate comply, Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.

This great man died on the 18th of September, 1721, at Wimple in Cambridgshire, the seat of the earl of Oxford, with whose friendship he had been honoured for some years. The death of so distinguished a person was justly esteemed an irreparable loss to the polite world, and his memory will be ever dear to those, who have any relish for the muses in their softer charms. Some of the latter part of his life was employed in collecting materials for an History of the Transactions of his own Times, but his death unfortunately deprived the world of what the touches of so masterly a hand, would have made exceeding valuable.

Mr. Prior, by the suffrage of all men of taste, holds the first rank in poetry, for the delicacy of his numbers, the wittiness of his turns, the acuteness of his remarks, and, in one performance, for the amazing force of his sentiments. The stile of our author is likewise so pure, that our language knows no higher authority, and there is an air of original in his minutest performances.

It would be superfluous to give any detail of his poems, they are in the hands of all who love poetry, and have been as often admired, as read. The performance however, for which he is most distinguished, is his Solomon; a Poem in three Books, the first on Knowledge, the second on Pleasure, and the third on Power. We know few poems to which this is second, and it justly established his reputation as one of the best writers of his age.

This sublime work begins thus,

Ye sons of men, with just regard attend, Observe the preacher, and believe the friend, Whose serious muse inspires him to explain, That all we act, and all we think is vain: That in this pilgrimage of seventy years, O'er rocks of perils, and thro' vales of tears Destin'd to march, our doubtful steps we tend, Tir'd of the toil, yet fearful of its end: That from the womb, we take our fatal shares, Of follies, fashions, labours, tumults, cares; And at approach of death shall only know, The truths which from these pensive numbers flow, That we pursue false joy, and suffer real woe.

After an enquiry into, and an excellent description of the various operations, and effects of nature, the system of the heavens, &c. and not being fully informed of them, the first Book concludes,

How narrow limits were to wisdom given? Earth she surveys; she thence would measure Heav'n: Thro' mists obscure, now wings her tedious way; Now wanders dazl'd, with too bright a day; And from the summit of a pathless coast Sees infinite, and in that sight is lost.

In the second Book the uncertainty, disappointment, and vexation attending pleasure in general, are admirably described; and in the character of Solomon is sufficiently shewn, that nothing debases majesty, or indeed any man, more than ungovernable passion.

When thus the gath'ring storms of wretched love In my swoln bosom, with long war had strove; At length they broke their bounds; at length their force Bore down whatever met its stronger course: Laid all the civil bounds of manhood waste. And scatter'd ruin, as the torrent past.

The third Book treats particularly of the trouble and instability of greatness and power, considers man through the several stages and conditions of life, and has excellent reasoning upon life and death. On the last are these lines;

Cure of the miser's wish, and cowards fear, Death only shews us, what we knew was near. With courage therefore view the 'pointed hour; Dread not death's anger, but expect its power; Nor nature's laws, with fruitless sorrow mourn; But die, O mortal man! for thou wast born.

The poet has likewise these similies on life;

As smoke that rises from the kindling fires Is seen this moment, and the next expires: As empty clouds by rising winds are tost, Their fleeting forms no sooner found than lost: So vanishes our state; so pass our days; So life but opens now, and now decays; The cradle, and the tomb, alas! so nigh; To live is scarce distinguished from to die.

We shall conclude this account of Mr. Prior's life with the following copy of verses, written on his Death by Robert Ingram, esq; which is a very successful imitation of Mr. Prior's manner.

1.

Mat. Prior!—(and we must submit) Is at his journey's end; In whom the world has lost a wit, And I, what's more, a friend.

2.

Who vainly hopes long here to stay, May see with weeping eyes; Not only nature posts away, But e'en good nature dies! 3.

Should grave ones count these praises light, To such it may be said: A man, in this lamented wight, Of business too is dead.

4.

From ancestors, as might a fool! He trac'd no high-fetch'd stem; But gloriously revers'd the rule, By dignifying them.

5.

O! gentle Cambridge! sadly say, Why fates are so unkind To snatch thy giant sons away, Whilst pigmies stay behind?

6.

Horace and he were call'd, in haste, From this vile earth to heav'n; The cruel year not fully past, Ætatis, fifty seven.

7.

So, on the tops of Lebanon, Tall cedars felt the sword, To grace, by care of Solomon, The temple of the Lord.

8.

A tomb amidst the learned may The western abbey give! Like theirs, his ashes must decay, Like theirs, his fame shall live. 9.

Close, carver, by some well cut books, Let a thin busto tell, In spite of plump and pamper'd looks, How scantly sense can dwell!

10.

No epitaph of tedious length Should overcharge the stone; Since loftiest verse would lose its strength, In mentioning his own.

11.

At once! and not verbosely tame, Some brave Laconic pen Should smartly touch his ample name, In form of—O rare Ben!

* * * * *

Mrs. SUSANNA CENTLIVRE,

This lady was daughter of one Mr. Freeman, of Holbeack in Lincolnshire. There was formerly an estate in the family of her father, but being a Dissenter, and a zealous parliamentarian, he was so very much persecuted at the restoration, that he was laid under a necessity to fly into Ireland, and his estate was confiscated; nor was the family of our authoress's mother free from the severity of those times, they being likewise parliamentarians. Her education was in the country, and her father dying when she was but three years of age, and her mother not living 'till she was twelve, the improvements our poetess made were merely by her own industry and application. She was married before the age of fifteen, to a nephew of Sir Stephen Fox. This gentleman living with her but a year, she afterwards married Mr. Carrol, an officer in the army, and survived him likewise in the space of a year and a half. She afterwards married Mr. Joseph Centlivre, yeoman of the mouth to his late Majesty. She gave early discoveries of a genius for poetry, and Mr. Jacob in his Lives of the Poets tells us, that she composed a song before she was seven years old. She is the author of fifteen plays; her talent is comedy, particularly the contrivance of the plots, and incidents. Sir Richard Steele, in one of his Tatlers, speaking of the Busy Body, thus recommends it. 'The plot, and incidents of the play, are laid with that subtilty, and spirit, which is peculiar to females of wit, and is very seldom well performed by those of the other sex, in whom craft in love is an act of invention, and not as with women, the effect of nature, and instinct'.

She died December 1, 1723; the author of the Political State thus characterizes her. 'Mrs. Centlivre, from a mean parentage and education, after several gay adventures (over which we shall draw a veil) she had, at last, so well improved her natural genius by reading, and good conversation, as to attempt to write for the stage, in which sh had as good success as any of her sex before her. Her first dramatic performance was a Tragi-Comedy, called The Perjured Husband, but the plays which gained her most reputation were, two Comedies, the Gamester, and the Busy Body. She wrote also several copies of verses on divers subjects, and occasions, and many ingenious letters, entitled Letters of Wit, Politics, and Morality, which I collected, and published about 21 years ago[A].'

Her dramatic works are,

1. The Perjured Husband, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1702, dedicated to the late Duke of Bedford. Scene Venice.

2. The Beau's Duel, or a Soldier for the Ladies, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, 1703; a Criticism was written upon this play in the Post-Angel for August. 3. The Stolen Heiress, or The Salamancha Doctor Out-plotted; a Comedy; acted at the Theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields 1704. The scene Palermo.

4. The Gamester, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields 1704, dedicated to George Earl of Huntingdon. This play is an improved translation of one of the same title in French. The prologue was written by Mr. Rowe.

5. The Basset Table, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, dedicated to Arthur Lord Altham, 4to. 1706.

6. Love's Contrivance, or Le Medicin Malgre lui; a Comedy; acted at Drury-Lane 1705, dedicated to the Earl of Dorset. This is a translation from Moliere.

7. Love at a Venture, a Comedy; acted at Bath, 4to. 1706, dedicated to the Duke of Beaufort.

8. The Busy Body, acted at the Theatre-Royal 1708, dedicated to Lord Somers. This play was acted with very great applause.

9. Marplot, or the Second Part of the Busy Body; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1709, dedicated to the Earl of Portland.

10. The Perplex'd Lovers, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1710, dedicated to Sir Henry Furnace.

11. The Platonic Lady, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1711. 12. The Man's Bewitch'd, or The Devil to do about Her; a Comedy; acted at the Theatre in the Haymarket 1712, dedicated to the Duke of Devonshire.

13. The Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane. This play was acted with success.

14. The Cruel Gift, or The Royal Resentment; a Tragedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1716, for the story of this play consult Sigismonda and Guiscarda, a Novel of Boccace.

15. A Bold Stroke for a Wife, a Comedy; acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields 1717, dedicated to the Duke of Wharton. Besides these plays Mrs. Centlivre has written three Farces; Bickerstaff's Burying, or Work for the Upholders. The Gotham Election. A Wife well Managed.

[Footnote A: See Bayer's Political State, vol. xxvi. p.670.]

* * * * *

Dr. NICHOLAS BRADY,

This revd. gentleman was son of Nicholas Brady, an officer in the King's army, in the rebellion 1641, being lineally descended from Hugh Brady, the first Protestant bishop of Mieath[A]. He was born at Bandon in the county of Cork, on the 28th of October 1659, and educated in that county till he was 12 years of age, when he was removed to Westminster school, and from thence elected student of Christ's Church, Oxford. After continuing there about four years, he went to Dublin, where his father resided, at which university he immediately commenced bachelor of arts. When he was of due standing, his Diploma for the degree of doctor of divinity was, on account of his uncommon merit, presented to him from that university, while he was in England, and brought over by Dr. Pratt, then senior travelling-fellow, afterwards provost of that college. His first ecclesiastical preferment was to a prebend, in the Cathedral of St. Barry's in the city of Cork, to which he was collared by bishop Wettenhal, to whom he was domestic chaplain. He was a zealous promoter of the revolution, and suffered for it in consequence of his zeal. In 1690, when the troubles broke out in Ireland, by his interest with King James's general, Mac Carty, he thrice prevented the burning of Bandon town, after three several orders given by that Prince to destroy it. The same year, having been deputed by the people of Bandon, he went over to England to petition the Parliament, for a redress of some grievances they had suffered, while King James was in Ireland. During his stay here, and to the time of his death, he was in the highest esteem among all ranks of persons in this kingdom, for his eminent attachment to the true interest of his country. Having quitted his preferments in Ireland, he settled in London, where he, being celebrated for his abilities in the pulpit, was elected minister of St. Catherine-Cree Church, and lecturer of St. Michael's Woodstreet. He afterwards became minister of Richmond in Surry, and Stratford upon Avon in Warwickshire, and at length, rector of Clapham in the county above-mentioned; which last, together with Richmond, he held to the time of his death. He was also chaplain to the duke of Ormond's troop of Horse-guards, as he was to their Majesties King William, and Queen Anne. He died on the 20th of May 1726, in the 67th year of his age, leaving behind him the reputation of a good man; he was of a most obliging, sweet, affable temper, a polite gentleman, an excellent preacher, and no inconsiderable poet.

His compositions in poetry are chiefly these,

1. A New Version of the Psalms of David, performed by him, in conjunction with Mr. Tate, soon after he settled in London; now sung in most churches of England, and Ireland, instead of that obsolete and ridiculous Version made by Sternhold, and Hopkins, in the reign of King Edward VI. As the 104th Psalm is esteemed one of the most sublime in the whole book, we shall present the reader with the two first Parts of his Version of that Psalm as a specimen. There have not been less than forty different Versions, and Paraphrases of this Psalm, by poets of very considerable eminence, who seem to have vied with one another for the superiority. Of all these attempts, if we may trust our own judgment, none have succeeded so happily as Mr. Blackclock, a young gentleman now resident at Dumfries in Scotland. This Paraphrase is the more extraordinary, as the author of it has been blind from his cradle, and now labours under that calamity; it carries in it such elevated strains of poetry, such picturesque descriptions, and such a mellifluent flow of numbers, that we are persuaded, the reader cannot be displeased at finding it inserted here.

Dr. Brady also translated the Æneid of Virgil, which were published by subscription in four volumes octavo, the last of which came out in 1726, a little before the author's death.

He also published in his life-time three Volumes of Sermons in 8vo. each consisting of 14, all printed in London; the first in 1704, the second in 1706, and the third in 1713. After the Dr's. death, his eldest son, who is now a clergyman, published three other Volumes of his father's Sermons, each also consisting of 14, printed in London 1730, 8vo. Amongst his sermons there is one preached on St. Cecilia's day, in vindication of Church-music, first printed in 1697, in 4to.

PSALM CIV.

1. Bless God my soul; thou, Lord alone, Possessest empire without bounds: With honour thou art crown'd, thy throne Eternal Majesty surrounds. 2. With light thou dost thy self enrobe, And glory for a garment take; Heav'n's curtain stretch'd beyond the globe, The canopy of state to make.

3. God builds on liquid air, and forms His palace-chambers in the skies: The clouds his chariots are, and storms The swift-wing'd steeds with which he flies. 4. As bright as flame, as swift as wind His ministers Heav'ns palace fill; To have their sundry tasks assign'd, All proud to serve their Sovereign's will.

5., 6. Earth on her center fix'd he set, Her face with waters over spread; Not proudest mountains dar'd as yet To lift above the waves their head! 7. But when thy awful face appear'd, Th' insulting waves dispers'd; they fled When once thy thunder's voice they heard, And by their haste confess'd their dread.

8. Thence up by secret tracts they creep, And gushing from the mountain's side, Thro' vallies travel to the deep; Appointed to receive their tide. 9. There hast thou fix'd the ocean's mounds, The threat'ning surges to repel: That they no more o'erpass their bounds, Nor to a second deluge swell. PART II.

10. Yet, thence in smaller parties drawn, The sea recovers her lost hills: And starting springs from every lawn, Surprize the vales with plenteous rills. 11. The fields tame beasts are thither led Weary with labour, faint with drought, And asses on wild mountains bred, Have sense to find these currents out.

12. There shady trees from scorching beams, Yield shelter to the feather'd throng: They drink, and to the bounteous streams Return the tribute of their song. 13. His rains from heav'n parch'd hills recruit, That soon transmit the liquid store: 'Till earth is burthen'd with her fruit, And nature's lap can hold no more.

14. Grass for our cattle to devour, He makes the growth of every field: Herbs, for man's use, of various pow'r, That either food or physic yield. 15. With cluster'd grapes he crowns the vine To cheer man's heart oppress'd with cares: Gives oil that makes his face to shine. And corn that wasted strength repairs.

PSALM CIV. imitated by THOMAS BLACKCLOCK.

Arise my soul! on wings seraphic rise! And praise th' Almighty sov'reign of the skies! In whom alone essential glory shines, Which not the Heav'n of Heav'ns, nor boundless space confines! When darkness rul'd with universal sway, He spoke, and kindled up the blaze of day; First fairest offspring of th' omnific word! Which like a garment cloath'd it's sovereign lord. He stretch'd the blue expanse, from pole to pole, And spread circumfluent æther round the whole. Of liquid air he bad the columns rise, Which prop the starry concave of the skies. Soon as he bids, impetuous whirlwinds fly, To bear his sounding chariot thro' the sky: Impetuous whirlwinds the command obey, Sustain his flight, and sweep th' aerial way. Fraught with his mandates from the realms on high, Unnumber'd hosts of radiant heralds fly; From orb to orb, with progress unconfin'd, As lightn'ing swift, resistless as the wind. His word in air this pondr'ous ball sustain'd. "Be fixt, he said."—And fix'd the ball remain'd. Heav'n, air, and sea, tho' all their stores combine. Shake not its base, nor break the law divine. At thy almighty voice, old ocean raves, Wakes all his force, and gathers all his waves; Nature lies mantled in a watry robe, And shoreless ocean roils around the globe; O'er highest hills, the higher surges rise, Mix with the clouds, and leave the vaulted skies. But when in thunder, the rebuke was giv'n, That shook th' eternal firmament of heav'n, The dread rebuke, the frighted waves obey, They fled, confus'd, along th' appointed way, Impetuous rushing to the place decreed, Climb the steep hill, and sweep the humble mead: And now reluctant in their bounds subside; Th' eternal bounds restrain the raging tide: Yet still tumultuous with incessant roar, It shakes the caverns, and assaults the shore. By him, from mountains, cloth'd in livid snow, Thro' verdant vales, the mazy fountains flow. Here the wild horse, unconscious of the rein, That revels boundless, o'er the wide champaign, Imbibes the silver stream, with heat opprest To cool the fervour of his glowing breast. Here verdant boughs adorn'd with summer's pride, Spread their broad shadows o'er the silver tide: While, gently perching on the leafy spray, Each feather'd songster tunes his various lay: And while thy praise, they symphonize around, Creation ecchoes to the grateful sound. Wide o'er the heav'ns the various bow he bends. Its tincture brightens, and its arch extends: At the glad sign, aërial conduits flow, The hills relent, the meads rejoice below: By genial fervour, and prolific rain, Gay vegetation cloaths the fertile plain; Nature profusely good, with bliss o'er-flows, And still she's pregnant, tho' she still bestows: Here verdant pastures, far extended lie, And yield the grazing herd a rich supply! Luxuriant waving in the wanton air, Here golden grain rewards the peasant's care! Here vines mature, in purple clusters glow, And heav'n above, diffuses heav'n below! Erect and tall, here mountain cedars rise, High o'er the clouds, and emulate the skies! Here the winged crowds, that skim the air, with artful toil, their little dams prepare, Here, hatch their young, and nurse their rising care! Up the steep-hill ascends the nimble doe, While timid conies scour the plains below; Or in the pendent rocks elude the scenting foe. He bade the silver majesty of night, Revolve her circle, and increase her light. But if one moment thou thy face should'st hide, Thy glory clouded, or thy smiles denied, Then widow'd nature veils her mournful eyes, And vents her grief, in universal cries! Then gloomy death, with all his meagre train; Wide o'er the nations spreads his iron reign! Sea, earth, and air, the bounteous ravage mourn, And all their hosts to native dust return! Again thy glorious quickning influence shed, The glad creation rears its drooping head: New rising forms, thy potent smiles obey, And life re-kindles at the genial ray; United thanks replenish'd nature pays, And heaven and earth resound their Maker's praise.

When time shall in eternity be lost, And hoary nature languish into dust, Forever young, thy glories shall remain, Vast as thy being, endless as thy reign! Thou from the realms of everlasting day, See'st all thy works, at one immense survey! Pleas'd at one view, the whole to comprehend, Part join'd to part, concurring to one end. If thou to earth, but turn'st thy wrathful eyes, Her basis trembles, and her offspring dies. Thou smit'st the hills, and at th' almighty blow, Their summits kindle, and their entrails glow. While this immortal spark of heav'nly flame, Distends my breast, and animates my frame, To thee my ardent praises shall be born, On the first breeze, that wakes the blushing morn: The latest star shall hear the pleasing sound, And nature, in full choir shall join around! When full of thee, my soul excursive flies, Thro' earth, air, ocean or thy regal skies, From world, to world, new wonders still I find! And all the Godhead bursts upon my mind! When, wing'd with whirlwinds, vice shall take her flight, To the wide bosom of eternal night, To thee my soul shall endless praises pay; Join! men and angels! join th' exalted day! Assign'd a province to each rolling sphere, And taught the sun to regulate the year. At his command wide hov'ring o'er the plain, Primæval night resumes her gloomy reign. Then from their dens impatient of delay, The savage monsters bend their speedy way, Howl thro' the spacious waste and chase the frighted prey. Here walks the shaggy monarch of the wood, Taught from thy providence to ask his food: To thee O Father! to thy bounteous skies, He rears his main, and rolls his glaring eyes. He roars, the desarts tremble wide around! And repercusive hills repeat the sound. Now purple gems, the eastern skies adorn, And joyful nature hails th' opening morn; The rovers conscious of approaching day, Fly to their shelters, and forget their prey. Laborious man, with moderate slumber blest, Springs chearful to his toil, from downy rest; Till grateful ev'ning with her silver train, Bid labour cease, and ease the weary swain! Hail, sovereign Goodness! All productive mind! On all thy works, thyself inscribed we find! How various all! how variously endow'd! How great their number! and each part how good! How perfect then must the great parent shine! Who with one act of energy divine, Laid the vast plan, and finish'd the design. Where e'er the pleasing search my thoughts pursue, Unbounded goodness opens to my view. Nor does our world alone, its influence share; Exhaustless bounty, and unwearied care, Extend thro' all th' infinitude of space, And circle nature with a kind embrace. The wavy kingdoms of the deep below, Thy power, thy wisdom, and thy goodness shew, Here various beings without number stray, Croud the profound, or on the surface play. Leviathan here, the mightiest of the train, Enormous! sails incumbent o'er the main. All these thy watchful providence supplies; To thee alone, they turn their waiting eyes. For them thou open'st thy exhaustless store, Till the capacious wish can grasp no more.

[Footnote A: Biograph. Brit. Art, Brady.]

* * * * *

GEORGE STEPNEY, Esq;

This poet was descended of the family of the Stepneys of Pindigrast in Pembrokeshire, but born in Westminster in the year 1693. He received the rudiments of his education in Westminster school, and after making some progress in literature there, he was removed to Trinity College in Cambridge, where he was cotemporary with Charles Montague, esq; afterwards earl of Halifax; and being of the same college with him, a very strict friendship was contracted between them. To this lucky accident of being early known to Mr. Montague, was owing all the preferment Mr. Stepney afterwards enjoyed; for he seems not to have had parts sufficient to have risen to any distinction, without the immediate patronage of so great a man, as the lord Hallifax. When Stepney first set out in life, he was perhaps attached to the Tory interest, for one of the first poems he wrote, was an Address to king James the Second, on his Accession to the Throne. In this little piece, in which there is as little poetry, he compares that monarch to Hercules, but with what propriety let the reader judge. Soon after the accession of James II. when Monmouth's rebellion broke out, the university of Cambridge, to demonstrate their zeal for the King, thought proper to burn the picture of that rash Prince, who had formerly been their chancellor. Upon this occasion Stepney wrote some good verses, in answer to this question;

——Sed quid Turba Remi? sequitur fortunam, ut semper et odit damnatos.

Upon the revolution he embraced another interest, and procured himself to be nominated for several foreign embassies. In the year 1692 he went to the elector of Brandenburgh's court in quality of envoy, and, in the year following, to the Imperial court in the same character. In 1694 he was sent to the elector of Saxony, and two years after to the electors of Mentz, Cologn, &c. and the congress at Francfort. He was employed in several other embassies, and in the year 1706 Queen Anne sent him envoy to the States General. He was very successful in his negotiations, which occasioned his constant employment in the most weighty affairs. At his leisure hours he composed several other pieces of poetry besides those already mentioned; which are chiefly these,

An Epistle to the Earl of Hallifax, on his Majesty's Voyage to Holland.

A Translation of the Eighth Satire of Juvenal.

To the Earl of Carlisle upon the Death of his Son.

Some Imitations of Horace's Odes.

The Austrian Eagle.

The Nature of Dreams.

A Poem to the Memory of Queen Mary.

These performances are not very long, nor are the subjects upon which they are written very considerable. It seems probable that the eminence to which Stepney rose, must have been more owing to some personal kindness lord Hallifax had for him, than to his merit as a writer. In raising Stepney, his lordship might act as the friend of the man, but not as a patron of the poet. Friendship, in many respects, participates of the nature of love; it begins, we know not how, it strengthens by imperceptible degrees, and grows into an established firmness. Such might be the regard lord Hallifax had for Stepney, but we may venture to assert, from his lordship's exquisite taste in poetry, that he never could highly admire the pretty trifles which compose the works of this author; and which are printed amongst the works of the Minor Poets, published some years ago by Mr. Tonson in two volumes 12mo.[A]

Our author died at Chelsea in the year 1707, and was buried in Westminster-Abbey, where a fine monument is erected over him, with the following inscription upon the pedestal;

H.S.E.

GEORGIUS STEPNEIUS, Armiger,

viz.

Ob Ingenii acumen, Literarum Scientiam, Morum Suavitatem, Rerum Usum, Virorum Amplissimorum Consuetudinem, Linguæ, Styli ac Vitæ Elegantiam, Praeclara Officia cum Britanniæ; tum Europæ Praestita, Suâ ætate multum celebratus, Apud Posteros semper celebrandus; Plurimas Legationes obiit Ea Fide, Diligentiâ, & Felicitate, Ut Augustissimorum Principum GULIELMI & ANNÆ Spem in illo repositam Nunquam sesellerit, Haud raro superavit. Post longum honorum Cursum Brevi Temporis spatio confectum, Cum Naturæ parvæ Fama satis vixerat, Animam ad altiora aspirantem placide efflavit.

On the left hand.

G.S.

Ex Equestri Familia STEPNEIORUM, De PENDEGRAST, in Comitatu PEMBROCHIENSI ORIENDUS, WESTMONASTERII natus est, A.D. 1663. Electus in Collegium Sancti PETRI WESTMONAST. A, 1676. Sanctæ TRINITATIS CANTAB. 1682. Consiliariorum quibus Commercii Cura commissa est 1697. CHELSEIÆ mortuus, & Comitante Magna Procerum Frequentiâ huc elatus, 1707.

On the right hand is a particular account of all his employments abroad.

As a specimen of Mr. Stepney's poetry, we shall quote the following lines on the Nature of Dreams,

At dead of night imperial reason sleeps, And fancy with her train loose revels keeps: Then airy phantoms a mixt scene display, Of what we heard, or saw, or wish'd by day; For memory those images retains Which passion form'd, and still the strongest reigns, Huntsmen renew the chase they lately run; And generals fight again their battles won. Spectres and furies haunt the murth'rers dreams; Grants, or disgraces, are the courtiers themes. The miser spies a thief, or some new hoard, The cit's a knight, the sycophant a lord. Thus fancy's in the wild distraction lost With what we most abhor, or covet most. But of all passions that our dreams controul, Love prints the deepest image in the soul; For vigorous fancy, and warm blood dispense Pleasures so lively, that they rival sense. Such are the transports of a willing maid, Not yet by time and place to act betray'd. Whom spies, or some faint virtue force to fly That scene of joy, which yet she dies to try. 'Till fancy bawds, and by mysterious charms Brings the dear object to her longing arms; Unguarded then she melts, acts fierce delight, And curses the returns of envious light. In such bless'd dreams Biblis enjoys a flame; Which waking she detests, and dares not name. Ixion gives a loose to his wild love, And in his airy visions cuckolds Jove. Honours and state before this phantom fall; For sleep, like death its image, equals all.

Our author likewise wrote some political pieces in prose, particularly an Essay on the present Interest of England, 1701. To which are added, The Proceedings of the House of Commons in 1677, upon the French King's Progress in Flanders. This piece is reprinted in Cogan's Collection of Tracts, called Lord Somers's Collection.

[Footnote A: And likewise of another work of the same kind, in two volumes also, published by one Cogan.]

* * * * *

Major RICHARDSON PACK,

This gentleman was the son of John Pack, of Stocke-Ash in Suffolk, esq; who in the year 1697 was high sheriff of that county. He had his early education at a private country school, and was removed from thence to Merchant Taylor's, where he received his first taste of letters; for he always reckoned that time which he spent at the former school as lost, since he had only contracted bad habits, and was obliged to unlearn what had been taught him there.

At the age of sixteen he was removed to St. John's College in Oxford. About eighteen his father entered him of the Middle Temple, designing him for the profession of the Law; and by the peculiar indulgence of the treasurer, and benchers of that honourable society, he was at eight Terms standing admitted barrister, when he had not much exceeded the age of 20. But a sedentary studious life agreeing as ill with his health, as a formal one with his inclinations, he did not long pursue those studies. After some wavering in his thoughts, he at last determined his views to the army, as being better suited to the gaiety of his temper, and the sprightliness of his genius, and where he hoped to meet with more freedom, as well as more action. His first command was that of a company of foot in March 1705. In November 1710 the regiment in which he served was one of those two of English foot, that were with the marshal Staremberg at the battle of Villa Viciosa, the day after general Stanhope, and the troops under his command were taken at Brighuega[A], where the major being killed, and our author's behaviour being equal to the occasion on which he acted, his grace the duke of Argyle confirmed his pretensions to that vacancy, by giving him the commission of the deceased major, immediately on his arrival in Spain. It was this accident which first introduced our gallant soldier to the acquaintance of that truly noble and excellent person, with whose protection and patronage he was honoured during the remaining part of his life.

The ambition he had to celebrate his grace's heroic virtues (at a time when there subsisted a jealousy between him and the duke of Marlborough, and it was fashionable by a certain party to traduce him) gave birth to some of the best of his performances.

What other pieces the major has written in verse, are, for the most part, the unlaboured result of friendship, or love; and the amusement of those few solitary intervals in a life that seldom wanted either serious business, or social pleasures, of one kind or other, entirely to fill up the circle. They are all published in one volume, together with a translation of the Life of Miltiades and Cymon, from Cornelius Nepos; the first edition was in 1725.

The most considerable of them are the following,

1. The Muse's Choice, or the Progress of Wit.

2. On Friendship. To Colonel Stanhope.

3. To Mr. Addison, occasioned by the news of the victory obtained over the Rebels in Scotland, by his Grace the Duke of Argyle.

4. To Lady Catherine Manners.

5. The Lovers Parting.

6. The Retreat.

7. An Epistle from a Half-pay Officer in the Country, to his Friend in Town.

8. Upon Religious Solitude; occasioned by reading the Inscription on the Tomb of Casimir King of Poland, who abdicated his Crown, and spent the remainder of his life in the Abbey of St. Germains, near Paris, where he lies interred.

9. A Pastoral in Imitation of Virgil's Second Eclogue.

10. The 2d, 3d, and 4th Elegies of the Fourth Book of Tibullus.

11. Elegy. Sylvia to Amintor, in Imitation of Ovid. After Sylvia is enjoyed, she gives this Advice to her sex.

Trust not the slight defence of female pride. Nor in your boasted honour much confide; So still the motion, and so smooth the dart, It steals unfelt into the heedless heart.

A Prologue to the Tragedy of Sir Walter Raleigh, and an Epilogue to Mr. Southern's Spartan Dame. In the former he has the following beautiful lines on Ambition;

Ambition is a mistress few enjoy! False to our hopes, and to our wishes coy; The bold she bafflles, and defeats the strong; And all are ruined who pursue her long; Yet so bewitching are her fatal charms, We think it heav'n to die within her arms.

Major Pack obliged the world with some Memoirs of the Life of Mr. Wycherley, which are prefixed to Theobald's edition of that author. Mr. Jacob mentions a piece of his which he saw in MS. entitled Religion and Philosophy, which, says he, with his other works, demonstrate the author to be a polite writer, and a man of wit and gallantry.

This amiable gentleman died at Aberdeen in Scotland, in the month of September 1728, colonel Montague's regiment, in which he was then a major, being quartered there.

[Footnote A: Vide Jacob's Lives.]

* * * * *

Sir WILLIAM DAWES, Baronet (Archbishop of YORK,)

This revd. prelate was descended from an ancient, and honourable family in the county of Essex; he was educated at Merchant-Taylor's school, London, and from thence elected to St. John's College in Oxford, of which he was afterwards fellow.

He was the youngest of four brothers, three of whom dying young, the title, and estate of the family fell to him. As soon as he had taken his first degree in arts, and upon the family estate devolving to him, he resigned his fellowship, and left Oxford. For some time he gave his attention to the affairs of his estate, but finding his inclination lead him more to study, than rural affairs, he entered into holy orders. Sir William did not long remain in the church without preferment; his fortune, and family assisted him to rise; for it often happens that these advantages will do much more for a man, as well in the ecclesiastical, as in other classes of life, than the brightest parts without them. Before he was promoted to the mitre, he was made master of Catherine Hall in Cambridge, chaplain to Queen Anne, and dean of Bocking.

In the year 1708 he was consecrated bishop of Chester, and in 1713 was translated to the archbishopric of York. While he was at the university, before he went into orders, he wrote the Anatomy of Atheism, a Poem, dedicated to Sir George Darcy Bart. printed in the year 1701, 8vo.

The design of this piece, as his lordship declares in the preface, 'is to expose the folly of those men, who are arrived at that pitch of impudence and prophaneness, that they think it a piece of wit to deny the Being of a God, and to laugh at that which they cannot argue against.' Such characters are well described in the following lines,

See then our Atheist all the world oppose, And like Drawcansir make all men his foes. See with what fancy pride he does pretend, His miser father's notions to amend, Huffs Plutarch, Plato, Pliny, Seneca, And bids even Cicero himself give way. Tells all the world, they follow a false light, And he alone, of all mankind is right. Thus, like a madman, who when all alone, Thinks himself King, and every chair a throne, Drunk with conceit, and foolish impudence, He prides himself in his abounding sense.

This prelate is said to have united the gentleman, and the divine, which both shone out with equal lustre in him. He was esteemed in his time a very popular preacher; his piety was great, and conspicuous; his charity and benevolence equalled by few, and his good nature, and humanity the most extensive.

Our author died in the 53d year of his age, April 30, 1724. We have no account of any other of his grace's poetical works, probably the business of his high station diverted his mind from the amusements of poetry.

The archbishop has written several sermons upon the Eternity of Hell Torments, a doctrine which he has laboured to vindicate; also sermons upon various other subjects.

* * * * *

WILLIAM CONGREVE, Esq;

This gentleman was descended from the ancient house of Congreve in Staffordshire, but authors differ as to the place of his birth; some contend that he was born in Ireland[A], others that he drew his first breath at the village of Bardsa, near Leeds in Yorkshire, which was the estate of a near relation of his by his mother's side. Mr. Jacob, in his preface to the Lives of the Poets, has informed us, that he had the advice and assistance of Mr. Congreve in that work, who communicated to him many particulars of the lives of cotemporary writers, as well as of himself, and as Mr. Congreve can hardly be thought ignorant of the place of his own birth, and Mr. Jacob has asserted it to be in England, no room is left to doubt of it. The learned antiquary of Ireland, Sir James Ware, has reckoned our author amongst his own country worthies, from the relation of Southern; but Mr. Congreve's own account, if Jacob may be relied on, is more than equal to that of Southern, who possibly might be mistaken.

About the year 1671, or 1672, our author was born, and his father carried him, when a child, into Ireland, where he then had a command in the army, but afterwards was entrusted with the management of a considerable estate, belonging to the noble family of Burlington, which fixed his residence there[B]. Mr. Congreve received the first tincture of letters in the great school of Kilkenny, and, according to common report, gave early proofs of a poetical genius; his first attempt in poetry was a copy of verses on the death of his master's Magpye.

He went from the school of Kilkenny to the university of Dublin, where under the direction of Dr. George Ash, he acquired a general knowledge of the classics. His father, who was desirous that his studies should be directed to a profitable employment, sent him over to England a little after the revolution, and placed him as a student in the Middle-Temple. But the severe study of the Law was so ill adapted to the sprightly genius of Congreve, that he never attempted to reconcile himself to a way of life, for which he had the greatest aversion. But however he disappointed his friends with respect to the proficiency they expected him to make in the Law; yet it is certain he was not negligent in those studies to which his genius led him.

Mr. Congreve's first performance, written when but a youth of seventeen, was a Novel, dedicated to Mrs. Katherine Leveson, which gave proof, not only of a great vivacity of wit, but also a fluency of stile, and a solid judgment. He was conscious that young men in their early productions generally aimed at a florid stile, and enthusiastic descriptions, without any regard to the plot, fable, or subserviency of the parts; for this reason he formed a new model, and gave an example how works of that kind should be written. He pursued a regular plan, observed a general moral, and carried on a connexion, as well as distinction, between his characters.

This performance is entitled Incognita, or Love and Duty Reconciled; it has been asserted that this is a real history, and though the scene is laid in Italy, the adventures happened in England; it is not our business to enter into the secret history of this entertaining piece, or to attempt giving the reader a key to what the writer took so much pains to conceal. It appears from this piece, that Mr. Congreve aimed at perfection from the very beginning, and his design in writing this novel, was to shew, how novels ought to be written. Let us hear what he says himself, and from thence we shall entertain a higher opinion of his abilities, than could possibly be raised by the warmest commendations. After very judiciously observing, that there is the same relation between romances and novels as between tragedy and comedy, he proceeds thus: 'Since all traditions must indisputably give glace to the drama, and since there is no possibility of giving that life to the writing, or repetition of a story, which it has in the action; I resolved in another beauty to imitate dramatic writing, namely, in the design, contexture, and result in the plot. I have not observed it before in a novel. Some I have seen begin with an unexpected accident which has been the only surprizing part of the story, cause enough to make the sequel look flat, tedious, and insipid; for 'tis but reasonable the reader should expect, if not to rise, at least to keep upon a level in the entertainment, for so he may be kept on, in hopes, that some time, or other, it may mend; but the other is such a baulk to a man, 'tis carrying him up stairs to shew him the dining room, and afterwards force him to make a meal in the kitchen. This I have not only endeavoured to avoid, but also have used a method for the contrary purpose. The design of this novel is obvious, after the first meeting of Aurelian and Hippolito, with Incognita, and Leonora; the difficulty is in bringing it to pass, maugre all apparent obstacles within the compass of two days. How many probable casualties intervene, in opposition to the main design, viz. of marrying two couple so oddly engaged in an intricate amour, I leave the reader at his leisure to consider; as also whether every obstacle does not, in the progress of the story, act as subservient to that purpose, which at first it seems to oppose. In a comedy this would be called the unity of action, here it may pretend to no more than an unity of contrivance. The scene is continued in Florence from the commencement of the amour, and the time from first to last, is but three days.'

Soon after Mr. Congreve's return to England, he amused himself, during a slow recovery from a fit of sickness, with writing a comedy. Captain Southern, in conjunction with Mr. Dryden, and Arthur Manwayring, esq; revised this performance, which was the Old Batchelor; of which Mr. Dryden said, he never saw such a first play in his life, adding, that the author not being acquainted with the stage, or the town, it would be pity to have it miscarry for want of a little assistance. Mr. Thomas Davenant, who had then the direction of the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, had so high a sense of the merit of the piece, and was so charmed with the author's conversation, that he granted him the freedom of the house before his play came on, which, according to the maxims of theatrical government, was not only an unusual, but an unprecedented favour. In 1693 the Old Batchelor was acted before a numerous, and polite audience. The play was received with such general applause, that Mr. Congreve was then considered as a prop to the declining stage, and a rising genius in dramatic poetry. It was this play, and the singular success which attended it upon the stage, that introduced our author to the acquaintance of the earl of Hallifax, who was then the professed patron of men of wit; and who, being desirous to raise a man of so promising a genius, above the necessity of too hasty productions, made him one of the commissioners for licensing Hackney coaches. The earl bestowed upon him soon after a place in the Pipe-Office, and gave him likewise a post in the Custom-House, to the value of 600 l. per annum.

In the following year Mr. Congreve brought upon the stage the Double Dealer, which met not with so good a reception as the former.

Mr. Congreve has informed us in the dedication of this play, to Charles Montague, esq; that he was very assiduous to learn from the critics what objections could be found to it; but, says he, 'I have heard nothing to provoke an answer. That which looks most like an objection, does not relate in particular to this play, but to all; or most that ever have been written, and that is soliloquy; therefore I will answer it, not only for my own sake, but to save others the trouble to whom it may be hereafter objected. I grant, that for a man to talk to himself, appears absurd, and unnatural, and indeed it is so in most cases, but the circumstances which may attend the occasion, makes great alteration. It often happens to a man to have designs, which require him to himself, and in their nature cannot admit of a confident. Such for certain is all villainy, and other less mischievous intentions may be very improper to be communicated to a second person. In such a case, therefore the audience must observe, whether the person upon the stage takes any notice of them at all, or no: for if he supposes any one to be by,[C] when he talks to himself, it is monstrous and ridiculous to the last degree; nay not only in this case, but in any part of a play, if there is expressed any knowledge of an audience it is insufferable. But otherwise, when a man in a soliloquy reasons with himself, and pro's and con's, and weighs all his designs, we ought not to imagine that this man either talks to us, or to himself; he is only thinking, and thinking such matter, as it were inexcusable folly in him to speak. But, because we are concealed spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it necessary to let us know the whole mystery of his contrivance, he is willing to inform us of this person's thoughts, and to that end is forced to make use of the expedient of speech, no other, or better way being yet invented for the communication of thought.'

Towards the close of the same year Queen Mary died. Upon that occasion Mr. Congreve produced an elegiac Pastoral, a composition which the admirers of this poet have extolled in the most lavish terms of admiration, but which seems not to merit the incense it obtained.

When Mr. Betterton opened the new house at Lincoln's-Inn, Congreve took part with him, and gave him his celebrated comedy of Love for Love, then introduced upon the stage, with the most extraordinary success. This comedy, with some more of our author's, was smartly criticised by the ingenious Mr. Collier, as containing lessons of immorality, and a representation of loose characters, which can never, in his opinion, appear on a stage without corrupting the audience.

Messrs. Congreve, Dennis, and Dryden, engaged in a vigorous defence of the English stage, and endeavoured to shew the necessity of such characters being introduced in order to be exposed, and laughed at. To all their defences Mr. Collier replied, and managed the point with so much learning, wit, and keenness, that in the opinion of many, he had the better of his antagonists, especially Mr. Congrove, whose comedies it must be owned, though they are admirably written, and the characters strongly marked, are so loose, that they have given great offence: and surely we pay too dear for pleasure, when we have it at the expence of morality.

The same year he distinguished himself in another kind of poetry, viz. an irregular Ode on the taking Namure, which the critics have allowed to contain fine sentiments, gracefully expressed. His reputation as a comic poet being sufficiently established, he was desirous of extending his fame, by producing a tragedy. It has been alledged, that some, who were jealous of his growing reputation, put him upon this task, in order, as they imagined, to diminish it, for he seemed to be of too gay and lively a disposition for tragedy, and in all likelihood would miscarry in the attempt. However,

In 1697, after the expectation of the town had been much raised, the Mourning Bride appeared on the New Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields: few plays ever excited so great an ardour of expectation as this, and very few ever succeeded to such an extravagant degree. There is something new in the management of the plot; after moving the passions of the audience to the greatest commiseration, he brings off his principal characters, punishes the guilty, and makes the play conclude happily.

The controversy we have just now mentioned, was thought to have occasioned a dislike in Mr. Congreve towards the stage; yet he afterwards produced another comedy called The Way of the World, which was so just a picture of the world, that, as an author prettily says,

The world could not bear it.

The reception this play met with, compleated our author's disgust to the theatre; upon which Mr. Dennis, who was a warm friend to Congreve, made this fine observation, 'that Mr. Congreve quitted the stage early, and that comedy left it with him.'

It is said that when Congreve found his play met with but indifferent success, he came in a passion on the stage, and desired the audience to save themselves the trouble of shewing their dislike; for he never intended to write again for the Theatre, nor submit his works to the censure of impotent critics. In this particular he kept his word with them, and as if he had foreseen the fate of his play, he took an ample revenge, in his Epilogue, of the race of Little Snarlers, who excited by envy, and supported by false ideas of their own importance, dared to constitute themselves judges of wit, without any just pretensions to it. This play has long ago triumphed over its enemies, and is now in great esteem amongst the best judges of Theatrical Entertainments.

Though Mr. Congreve quitted the stage, yet did not he give up the cause of poetry; for on the death of the marquis of Blandford, the only son of the duke of Marlborough, which happened in 1705, we find him composing a pastoral to soften the grief of that illustrious family, which he addressed to the lord treasurer Godolphin.

About the same time, the extraordinary success of the duke of Marlborough's arms, furnished him with materials for an Ode to Queen Anne. In another Pindaric Ode he celebrates the lord Godolphin; taking occasion from that nobleman's delight in horse-racing to imitate the Greek Poet in his favourite manner of writing, by an elegant digression; to which he added a criticism on that species of poetry.

As in the early part of his life, Mr. Congreve had received favours from people of a less exalted station, so of these he was highly sensible, and never let slip any opportunity of shewing his gratitude. He wrote an Epilogue to his old friend Southern's Tragedy of Oroonoko; and Mr. Dryden has acknowledged his assistance in the translation of Virgil: He contributed by his Version of the eleventh Satire of Juvenal, to the translation of that poet, published also by Mr. Dryden, to whom Mr. Congreve wrote a copy of Verses on his Translation of Persius. He wrote likewise a Prologue for a Play of Mr. Charles Dryden's, full of kindness for that young gentleman, and of respect for his father.

But the noblest testimony he gave of his filial regard to the memory of his poetical father, Mr. John Dryden, was the Panegyric he wrote upon his works, contained in the dedication of Dryden's plays to the duke of Newcastle.

Mr. Congreve translated the third Book of Ovid's Art of Love; some favourite passages from the Iliad, and writ some Epigrams, in all which he was not unsuccessful, though at the same time he has been exceeded by his cotemporaries in the same attempts.